Hey I Don’t Know If You Noticed But I Just Want To Let You Know That You’ve Tagged Something As Gender

MDNI!

Price fingering you over his desk!

TW-Bondage, blindfolds, fingering, afab, part 2 maybe?

You didn’t expect the night to end up like this. You’re bent over on Prices desk, naked, handcuffed, and blindfolded. He asked you to come to his office to help with some paperwork.

His hand brushes against your core, you gasp twitching at the sudden sensation. John softly chuckles at your reaction running his hand up and down your folds.

“Your doing so good for me”

You sigh as he moves his finger onto your clit making slow circles. You tilt your head giving John access to your neck. He gladly takes your invite giving you little loves bites. His fingers circle your hole before slowly plunging in.

“Oh my fucking god! John it feels so good!”

You cry out in pleasure, the handcuffs around your wrists clatter as you hold onto his arm. His fingers brush against your g-spot over and over again. His fingers start to rapidly plunge into you while his thumb rubs at your clit.

“I-I’m gonna cum!”

John doubles his efforts fingering you even faster. The slick from between your thighs trickle down onto the bed. The loud squelches from his fingers echo through the room.

He gets close to your ear and growls out, “Fucking cum for me baby, soak my fingers”

You cry out in pleasure writhing against the desk from how strong the orgasm was. His fingers slow and you pant for breath. John removes his fingers from you sucking each finger savoring the taste.

You lay lifeless against the desk feeling boneless after such an amazing orgasm. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your chest and your breath.

His hand pets your ass before you hear his belt buckle get undone.

“I’m not done with you yet, take a couple nice deep breaths for me love, its gonna be a bit of a stretch”

Tactics

Sparring With Gaz

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x GN!Reader

Genre:Fluff

CW: Play fighting? Other than that nothing.

Authors Note: Tbh this is a drabble based off of an actual experience, I hope you enjoy the story! No use of Y/N in story✨

On one of the days that Kyle is on leave, you wrap your arms around him with a smile suggesting that you guys spar just for fun. He smiles back kissing your hands saying, “Sure babe lets do it”. He stretches before getting off of the couch taking your hand in his to go into the basement. The basement has soft padding on the bottom with some weights so Kyle can work out while he’s home.

Together you sit on the floor stretching together, as you do so Kyle steals a couple quick kisses. Both you and him stand opposed, ready to fight. You take his arm and hook your leg around his trying to get him to fall but its no use. He yanks your arm off of his and easily lifts you off the ground and back down to the floor.

You flinch expecting pain but Kyle sets you down quickly but gently with a little smirk on his face, “I would never hurt you”. Before you're able to move he straddles your lap and pins your arms above your head. Kyle chuckles and peppers your face with kisses before saying teasingly, “Y’know I had to put in some effort in that”. Scowling at his loving words you buck your hips trying to get him off, “Get your fat ass off of me Kyle!”, Kyle only laughs and says with a shit eating smirk, “I know that you love this fat ass of mine”

With a pout you relax under his hold, Kyle loosens his grip and gets off of you so he can give you a proper hug. He helps you up off the floor with a charming smile and a light blush on his cheeks wrapping his arms around your torso. His breathing is a little heavier than before but definitely not as heavy as yours. You hug him back but secretly your leg raises before trying to hook it around his to try and get it to buckle.

You hear him laugh and you look at him, he has a big smirk on his face and says, “Nice try sweetheart but that would never work on me”. Before you’re even able to answer he picks your body up with ease taking you down to the floor tangling you in his limbs. You huff a little and mumble, “I hate you”, Kyle simple chuckles kissing your cheek saying softly, “I love you too”

I need Rudy in my life

Hello! I am a new writer and I’m happy to make your acquaintance. My pronouns are she/her.

I’m going to focus on doing Call of Duty MW2!

Requests are open! Ask any questions u want✨

Things I’m willing to write:

-Fluff

-Smut

-Headcanons

Things I’m not willing to write:

-Body horror

-Incest

Minors please don’t interact!

I couldnt sleep so heres a little fluffy thing for everyone!

Ghost x GN!Reader

You lay in bed with the covers pulled up to your nose. You hold a pillow with your husband’s shirt over it. He has been gone for months for a mission you could never know about. You smell the t-shirt again trying to find a sense of comfort while he’s gone.

The bed is too cold and quiet, the room is void of noise. The lonliness was starting to gnaw at you, the need to have a warm body next to you was overwhelming. You stare into the darkness wishing that he’d come home soon. Your eyes start to flutter feeling exhausted from the day until you hear the front door open.

He’s home.

You raise from bed tripping over yourself to get untangled from the bedsheet and quickly going to the stair case. You see him close the door quietly behind him locking the door. He shucks off his boots and places them the shoe rack next to the door.

His shoulders are slouched exhausted, you can see how he winces as he stands back up. You hope he’s not too injured from this mission.

“Simon?”, your voice echoes through the house

His head snaps towards you still running on adrenaline, before relaxing with a sigh. He takes off his mask pocketing it into his trousers, his eyes softening at the sight of you.

He ascends the stairs as you descend meeting each other in the middle. Tears gather in your eyes with a wobbly smile.

“Hi Simon”

“Hello love”

Tears fall down your cheeks, you can feel his calloused fingers wipe them away. You wrap your arms around his neck burying your face into your neck relieved that he’s home. Your hands wander every part of him confirming that he’s truly home.

Gently he picks you up leading you back to your bedroom.

“No more tears, I’m home.”

You nod taking a couple deep breaths calming yourself. He gently takes your hands off of him to quickly toss off his clothes into some shadowy corner.

You lay down with him next to you feeling like this is all just a dream. Ghost chuckles when he sees one of his old shirts on a pillow.

“You really did miss me huh”

You nod and he kisses the crown of your forehead tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Simon hands snake around your waist and your circle his.

Simons hands wander your body and smelling the scent of your shampoo. No more gunpowder and blood, no more screams of the dying, just his love and a comfortable bed.

Everything feels so much more right. The bed is the perfect size, its so nice and warm, and the sound of his heartbeat calms your mind. Your eyes start to flutter shut again but you want to spend more time with Simon.

His hand pets your head as he whispers in your ear, “Sleep well love, I’ll be here when you wake up”

Your mind drifts off to sleep now at peace knowing that he’s safe in your arms once again.

⚠️ this blog does not support works created by AI software ⚠️

TF141+Vaqueros as Elementary School Teachers AU

Characters involved: John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Warnings: One mention of bullying

WC: 1.3k

Notes: Irl I actually work for an elementary school and this is how I feel the soldiers would be as teachers and what they’d teach. In this AU they’ve never been soldiers. I do have plans for Farah, Alex, Nikolai, and Graves in this au. I may make this into an actual fanfic if there is enough interest.

Ghost-Kindergarten

Ghost is a veteran teacher coming in the second year of the school's opening. Knowing that students are snotty and don’t cover their mouths when they cough so he wears a face mask around them. Despite his large frame and the dark clothes, his kids flock to him. They love to sit on his lap during story time and cuddle against him during nap time. His dry sense of humor along with his natural leadership kindergarteners become comfortable and confident at the start of their school life. He is deeply protective of his class seeing them as still young and innocent. If he catches any older student picking on one of his kids he’ll come up behind them without a sound like a ghost escorting them to the principal's office. His children affectionately call him Mr.Riley but the other kids who were never in his class call him Ghost due to his more closed off personality and strictness with the higher grades. Ghosts classroom is filled with bright colors and mats in the corner ready for nap time right after lunch.

Price- 1st and 2nd Grade Special Ed

Price has been in the school ever since it has opened along with Alejandro. He knows every staff member and does his best to learn and remember every student's names in the school. His calloused hands hold his kids small hands through the halls making sure they don’t run off and get lost or hurt. His steady and sure personality helps with his little ones having tough times, getting overstimulated, or dealing with big emotions that they don’t know how to deal with. He's able to read situations and his students quickly knowing what to do and how to help. He joins in with his students doing their breaks with little dances, holding their hands and shimmying with them encouraging their playfulness while keeping an eye out for any potential problems. From the years of working at the school he has learned that he needs to either bend or break the rules to get proper accommodations to help his children whether it be ipads for nonverbal students, earmuffs, etc he’ll do anything to make sure his kids are happy. His classroom is set up practically and a little more sparsely than the other classrooms, not because there isn’t a lot of things its more that its organized so his students know where things go throughout the day.

Soap- 2nd Grade

Soap is one of the newer teachers still with enough energy to keep up with the students. He’s the joker, out of every other teacher he’s able to make any student laugh the loudest. He goes all in for each student making sure to hear their laugh at least once a day from doing dad jokes from falling on his face. He makes sure his students are learning but he doesn’t want his students' brains to melt from studying too much so he participates in brain breaks with them such as doing dance battles or even simon says. He affectionately calls his kids lads and lasses, in his eyes they can do no wrong so he redirects them and talks to them about what's wrong, unless if there was a case of hitting or bullying. When one of his kids gets a warhawk to look just like him he almost cries tears of joy ready to sweep the kid up in a massive hug. His room consists of big desks where the students can sit at a table with a large amount of space in the back with a rug for brain breaks and library time with his students.

Kyle- 3rd Grade

Kyle is one of the newer teachers like Soap but he knows for third grade they don’t need that overwhelming energy anymore. His presence is calming and positive for his students making them feel more relaxed compared to other classes. He wants his classroom to be a safe place for his students, to feel at ease while learning. In the eyes of the students (specifically his students) he is the calmest teacher at the school. He cares for each one of his students and if he sees one of them not being their usual self he’ll subtly pull his student out of the class to make sure everything is alright. As he walks through the halls, is doing lunch duty, or playground duty he is being constantly tackled by children wanting a hug or having other little kids wanting to show him something cool they found. He softly chuckles and hugs each student giving them a pat on the head despite knowing most likely he's going to get sick from them hugging him all the time. His room is very cozy, never using the harsh overhead lights but with many lamps with warm lights along with a variety of different places his students can sit to read or just to relax.

Alejandro-4th Grade Math and Science

Alejandro started teaching along with Price at the beginning of the school's opening. He is extremely proud of each and every class that has ever passed through having his class. Alejandro and Rodolfo share a class of 40, 20 in each class so the students can get used to switching classes for middle school. He calls his students his “pequeño

vaqueros y vaqueras” (his small cowboys and cowgirls). He believes that his students are the absolute best out of any other class in the whole school always talking and showing off his amazing students. He is willing to go to any lengths to help a student who is confused wanting for his students to unlock their full potentials. He is by far the loudest teacher in the school whether it be his normal talking voice, laughing at an awful joke, or yelling at a student trying to throw food at someone in the cafeteria. He believes in punishment for those who have been wronged whether it be a student being picked on or a horrible rumor. He’s the voice for the students willing to do anything to get proper accommodations just like Price, even if it means going against the higher ups. His room is a little less decorated than the others since he and rodolfo is prepping the students for middle school. The desks are in a half circle with big pieces of paper on the wall with big writing showing off math equations or science they are currently learning.

Rodolfo-4th grade Reading, Writing, and History

Rodlfo joined the school a year after John and Alejandro. Just like Alejandro he is extremely proud of each student and calls them his “príncipes y princesas” (princes and princesses). He and Kyle are some of the most hugged teachers in the school. He teaches his kids the curriculum along with some extra fairy tales if they finish their work before the class ends. On special days if his students have been behaving he lets them watch movies of the books they are reading. Whether summer or winter he is usually wearing his gray sweatshirt which is how his students identify him in the school. He is one of the kindest and laid back teachers in the school only beaten by Kyle. His students like to spend their lunches and sometimes even recesses in his room. A lot of students ask him and Alejandro if they are siblings, although at first they saw it as cute but after being constantly asked by every student, they made matching shirts that say “we’re not brothers”. Rodolfos class has many books along with desks paired in twos for group work. There is a big desk in the back so he can have small groups talking about books they are reading, stories they are writing, or specific parts of history they are learning.

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

Hi guys I’m sorry for not posting too much, there have been some issues I’ve been going through and once those pass I’ll be able to write more. Thank you to all of the people who read my fics you dont know how much it means to me❤️