hahaifolded

[hahaifolded]

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

[hahaifolded]

I— 😮

It’s been awhile since I’ve been gagged like this. What do you mean “that type of thinking is how or why white writers don’t step out of their comfort zone?” How uncomfortable do whites get when they write for POC characters? Why is it uncomfortable?

I saw your addition to that post. Just because a person doesn't write for Gaz or poc doesn't mean they are a terrible writer. That type of thinking is how and why white writers don't step out of their comfort zones. Maybe give them some grace. And you on your blog have stated that your target audience is black fem readers, is that not you not being inclusive? Double standards?

Mood board for tired black writers.

That's it. That's the post.

Also, do white writers ever get this?

[hahaifolded]

Not y'all tagging your shit as 141 [with a fussy wife, for example]—only to immediately exclude Gaz with the lame excuse of "He didn't fit the vibe".

Bitch, be honest and write 141 [with a fussy wife (except Gaz, because he's POC)].

Alternatively, just write CoD men with a fussy wife. Is that really so hard?

Jesus Christ. The fandom is doooooomed.

[hahaifolded]

We Want You: Ghoap x POC!FemReader (Masterlist) Summary: After getting to know you, the newest member of the 141, Simon "Ghost" Riley and Johnny "Soap" MacTavish realize that they want you. However, will the two be successful in reeling you in? Chapter 3: Bedrest (Previous) (Next) Chapter Summary: You talk to Price. Simon and Johnny overhear. Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Misunderstanding, Depictions of hospital, Injuries, Anxiety/Panic Attack

“You better have a good reason for disobeying orders.”

You should have known Price wasn’t going to let you get away that fast. You ease yourself up from your hospital bed, body screaming for you to stop, but you ignore it. John sits at your side and watches you. His gaze is stern but kind all at the same time. 

You take a good look at your surroundings while you collect your thoughts. Nothing really caught your attention in your standard hospital room. Your captain sits in one of the four chairs that stand at the side of your room. You glance at the other three and note a familiar blue cap in one of them. However, what really catches your attention is the lack of signs of use in the other two. 

“Are they okay?” Your voice is wobbly which makes sense as those are the first words you’ve uttered since you’ve woken up. 

Price sighs. “Ghost and Soap are fine, but who you should really be worried about is yourself, love.” His eyes soften. “Now tell me, why did you ignore the Lieutenant’s orders?”

You wince as you recount your last few minutes of consciousness.

“I’ve been hit,” you hissed in your comms. Everything happened way too fast. One minute, you’re downloading data from some abandoned lab, and the next, you’re in an empty room, applying pressure on your bleeding abdomen. You think through the pain as you analyze your situation. Soap is on the floor below you while Ghost is waiting outside for the both of you. 

“Stay put. I’m on my way,” Ghost answers. That immediately eases you. However, that relief is short lived as—

“You know I hate repeating myself so I’m only going to ask one more time, why did you ignore orders and run towards evac on your own despite being injured?” Price again asks. His patience is now thin.

You shift again in your seat.“In my defense, I was going to wait, but…” you train off. Shit, this is going to be such an awkward conversation. 

“But what?”

“The situation changed.”

John’s face hardens. “I’m not playing games with you right now. I don’t need a rogue soldier on my team so if you’re not going to give me an answer, I think it’s better we consider other—“

“Enemy soldiers were approaching MacTavish’s position so I made sure he got the back-up he needed.”

“Did he call for back-up?”

“No, but—“

“So that still doesn’t explain why you went against direct ord—”

You snap. “Because I knew Ghost wasn’t coming!” John stills in his seat, eyes wide from your outburst. You take in quick, shallow breaths in an attempt to calm your beating heart. “As soon as Soap said he had enemy soldiers approaching his position, I knew I was on my own.”

John shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ll have a word with them, because that’s not right. I warned them that if they couldn’t keep it professional, I’d—“

“John?” The sternness in your voice catches Price off guard. “Be completely honest with me, if you had to choose between me or your wife, who’d you choose?” 

John stutters for an answer.

A small chuckle escaped you. “John, it’s okay, I already know the answer.” You sink back in your bed and look up at the ceiling. “Ghost doesn’t need Soap to call him.” You turn to look at Price, who grimaces under your kind eyes, and jest, “Ghost loves that boy way too much to not save him, and I can’t blame him for that.” 

Without removing his eyes off you, Price slouches in his seat and lets out a deep breath. “Fine,” he concedes and softens his voice, “but I’m going to start assigning you on more missions with me and Gaz. Need to make sure you stay alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do that. You know we make a good team,” you say, referring to you, Ghost, and Soap. “Besides, who else is going to make sure your boys come back to you?” Your voice is sincere in your declaration which only breaks your captain’s heart.

“But who’s going to make sure you come back?” John whispers as his eyes wander to your covered torso. 

You let out a pained chuckle. “You let me worry about that.” 

— — —

“Breath, Simon. You’re going to pass out,” stresses Johnny as he runs after his lover.

Simon takes a seat and hides his masked face in his hands after finding some chairs at the far end of the hallway. Johnny catches up and gingerly rubs Simon’s back in an attempt to soothe him. 

After a few days of keeping their distance (as they couldn’t bear seeing you hurt), Simon and Johnny were just about to enter your room when they overheard Price say their callsigns. Catching the gravity in their captain’s voice, the two soldiers opt to wait at the door, neither wanting to interrupt a disgruntled John. 

How Simon wished they hadn’t.  

Ghost gasps for air. His right leg furiously bounces. “I was going to come, I promise,” Simon panics. Tears well in his eyes as he recalls your words. You thought that he was going to abandon you. Do you really think he doesn’t care about you? 

And despite his own heart cracking at your confession, Johnny tries to soothe his distressed lover and begs him to breathe. As much as he wants to spiral, the Scotsman had to stay strong for Simon. “I know you were, Simon. I know.” 

And Johnny knows that’s true because they had both promised to put you first if anything happened during the mission. Simon and Johnny knew that in order for this to work, they both had to show you that you matter to them as much as the other did. But, after what they heard , it’s clear that they haven't done that. And now they both have to live with that shame. 

Eventually after a few minutes of pained gasps and soft coos, Simon manages to calm down. His breathing eases but his face stays hidden in his hands.

“Johnny?” 

“Hmm?”

“What do we do if she doesn’t want us?” Johnny freezes. Simon lifts his head to face his boyfriend. The two stare at each other, neither saying a thing. With the way things are going, Simon’s question doesn’t seem so far off. As of now, you think Johnny is a dog and that Simon doesn’t care about you. They weren’t necessarily screaming “boyfriends material.”

Johnny stutters out an answer, but thankfully, doesn’t have to answer as a friendly sergeant appears.

“Hey lovebirds.” Kyle sings-songs with a coffee in his hand. His smile falters as he senses their tension. “Everything okay? Is she okay?” His words are rushed as the couple’s anxious energy gets to him. Kyle turns towards your room. Eyes wide with worry.

“No, no, she’s okay. She just woke up. We’re just--”

“SHE WOKE UP?!” Kyle’s mood shifts from worry to joy. He lets out a small cheer and runs towards your room. He turns around and yells at the two to follow.

Johnny and Simon give each other a look, one that lets the other know that they’ll continue this conversation later, and nervously follow Gaz. Would you even be excited to see them? 

Kyle is the first to enter, clearly ecstatic to see his fellow sergeant alive and well. Your tired but still cheery voice reaches their ears as they turn the corner into your room. 

Despite Kyle chirping your ear off, your eyes wander as Simon and Johnny enter your room. Kyle quiets down. Price looks up with hard eyes. You sit up and smile at the two. 

“Oh thank God, you’re both okay,” you let out. And just like that, you return to your conversation with Kyle.

Ghost freezes. He couldn’t believe it. You’re happy to see them… to see him. Despite thinking that he wasn’t going to save you, you are relieved to see him alive and well. 

Johnny nudges Simon’s side and throws him a small smile. 

Maybe not all hope is lost.

Word Count: 1350

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Note: AAAAH!! This was the FIRST chapter I thought of for this concept. Literally built a story around this! I love this chapter so much, specifically the first half. Really wish I can erase this from my memory and read it for the first time... raw

[hahaifolded]

We Want You: Ghoap x POC!FemReader (Masterlist) Summary: After getting to know you, the newest member of the 141, Simon "Ghost" Riley and Johnny "Soap" MacTavish realize that they want you. However, will the two be successful in reeling you in? Chapter 3: Bedrest (Previous) (Next) Chapter Summary: You talk to Price. Simon and Johnny overhear. Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Misunderstanding, Depictions of hospital, Injuries, military, Anxiety/Panic Attack Blog Rule: Age in bio or you will be blocked! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

“You better have a good reason for disobeying orders.”

You should have known Price wasn’t going to let you get away that fast. You ease yourself up from your hospital bed, body screaming for you to stop, but you ignore it. John sits at your side and watches you. His gaze is stern but kind all at the same time. 

You take a good look at your surroundings while you collect your thoughts. Nothing really caught your attention in your standard hospital room. Your captain sits in one of the four chairs that stand at the side of your room. You glance at the other three and note a familiar blue cap in one of them. However, what really catches your attention is the lack of signs of use in the other two. 

“Are they okay?” Your voice is wobbly which makes sense as those are the first words you’ve uttered since you’ve woken up. 

Price sighs. “Ghost and Soap are fine, but who you should really be worried about is yourself, love.” His eyes soften. “Now tell me, why did you ignore the Lieutenant’s orders?”

You wince as you recount your last few minutes of consciousness.

“I’ve been hit,” you hissed in your comms. Everything happened way too fast. One minute, you’re downloading data from some abandoned lab, and the next, you’re in an empty room, applying pressure on your bleeding abdomen. You think through the pain as you analyze your situation. Soap is on the floor below you while Ghost is waiting outside for the both of you. 

“Stay put. I’m on my way,” Ghost answers. That immediately eases you. However, that relief is short lived as—

“You know I hate repeating myself so I’m only going to ask one more time, why did you ignore orders and run towards evac on your own despite being injured?” Price again asks. His patience is now thin.

You shift again in your seat.“In my defense, I was going to wait, but…” you train off. Shit, this is going to be such an awkward conversation. 

“But what?”

“The situation changed.”

John’s face hardens. “I’m not playing games with you right now. I don’t need a rogue soldier on my team so if you’re not going to give me an answer, I think it’s better we consider other—“

“Enemy soldiers were approaching MacTavish’s position so I made sure he got the back-up he needed.”

“Did he call for back-up?”

“No, but—“

“So that still doesn’t explain why you went against direct ord—”

You snap. “Because I knew Ghost wasn’t coming!” John stills in his seat, eyes wide from your outburst. You take in quick, shallow breaths in an attempt to calm your beating heart. “As soon as Soap said he had enemy soldiers approaching his position, I knew I was on my own.”

John shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ll have a word with them, because that’s not right. I warned them that if they couldn’t keep it professional, I’d—“

“John?” The sternness in your voice catches Price off guard. “Be completely honest with me, if you had to choose between me or your wife, who’d you choose?” 

John stutters for an answer.

A small chuckle escaped you. “John, it’s okay, I already know the answer.” You sink back in your bed and look up at the ceiling. “Ghost doesn’t need Soap to call him.” You turn to look at Price, who grimaces under your kind eyes, and jest, “Ghost loves that boy way too much to not save him, and I can’t blame him for that.” 

Without removing his eyes off you, Price slouches in his seat and lets out a deep breath. “Fine,” he concedes and softens his voice, “but I’m going to start assigning you on more missions with me and Gaz. Need to make sure you stay alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do that. You know we make a good team,” you say, referring to you, Ghost, and Soap. “Besides, who else is going to make sure your boys come back to you?” Your voice is sincere in your declaration which only breaks your captain’s heart.

“But who’s going to make sure you come back?” John whispers as his eyes wander to your covered torso. 

You let out a pained chuckle. “You let me worry about that.” 

— — —

“Breath, Simon. You’re going to pass out,” stresses Johnny as he runs after his lover.

Simon takes a seat and hides his masked face in his hands after finding some chairs at the far end of the hallway. Johnny catches up and gingerly rubs Simon’s back in an attempt to soothe him. 

After a few days of keeping their distance (as they couldn’t bear seeing you hurt), Simon and Johnny were just about to enter your room when they overheard Price say their callsigns. Catching the gravity in their captain’s voice, the two soldiers opt to wait at the door, neither wanting to interrupt a disgruntled John. 

How Simon wished they hadn’t.  

Ghost gasps for air. His right leg furiously bounces. “I was going to come, I promise,” Simon panics. Tears well in his eyes as he recalls your words. You thought that he was going to abandon you. Do you really think he doesn’t care about you? 

And despite his own heart cracking at your confession, Johnny tries to soothe his distressed lover and begs him to breathe. As much as he wants to spiral, the Scotsman had to stay strong for Simon. “I know you were, Simon. I know.” 

And Johnny knows that’s true because they had both promised to put you first if anything happened during the mission. Simon and Johnny knew that in order for this to work, they both had to show you that you matter to them as much as the other did. But, after what they heard , it’s clear that they haven't done that. And now they both have to live with that shame. 

Eventually after a few minutes of pained gasps and soft coos, Simon manages to calm down. His breathing eases but his face stays hidden in his hands.

“Johnny?” 

“Hmm?”

“What do we do if she doesn’t want us?” Johnny freezes. Simon lifts his head to face his boyfriend. The two stare at each other, neither saying a thing. With the way things are going, Simon’s question doesn’t seem so far off. As of now, you think Johnny is a dog and that Simon doesn’t care about you. They weren’t necessarily screaming “boyfriends material.”

Johnny stutters out an answer, but thankfully, doesn’t have to answer as a friendly sergeant appears.

“Hey lovebirds.” Kyle sings-songs with a coffee in his hand. His smile falters as he senses their tension. “Everything okay? Is she okay?” His words are rushed as the couple’s anxious energy gets to him. Kyle turns towards your room. Eyes wide with worry.

“No, no, she’s okay. She just woke up. We’re just--”

“SHE WOKE UP?!” Kyle’s mood shifts from worry to joy. He lets out a small cheer and runs towards your room. He turns around and yells at the two to follow.

Johnny and Simon give each other a look, one that lets the other know that they’ll continue this conversation later, and nervously follow Gaz. Would you even be excited to see them? 

Kyle is the first to enter, clearly ecstatic to see his fellow sergeant alive and well. Your tired but still cheery voice reaches their ears as they turn the corner into your room. 

Despite Kyle chirping your ear off, your eyes wander as Simon and Johnny enter your room. Kyle quiets down. Price looks up with hard eyes. You sit up and smile at the two. 

“Oh thank God, you’re both okay,” you let out. And just like that, you return to your conversation with Kyle.

Ghost freezes. He couldn’t believe it. You’re happy to see them… to see him. Despite thinking that he wasn’t going to save you, you are relieved to see him alive and well. 

Johnny nudges Simon’s side and throws him a small smile. 

Maybe not all hope is lost.

Word Count: 1350

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Note: AAAAH!! This was the FIRST chapter I thought of for this concept. Literally built a story around this! I love this chapter so much, specifically the first half. Really wish I can erase this from my memory and read it for the first time... raw

[hahaifolded]

As a Latina, an American, and as someone who has somehow amassed a small following, I can no longer stay silent. While I like the idea of having a non-political space as a breather of everything that is going on, I realized that I cannot stay silent and not use this small blog of mine to speak on the blatant abuse and violence that is going on against my community.

So if you are willing and interested in helping immigrants in the United States, please look below.

DONATE TO THE DETAINED IMMIGRANT BOND FUND: When someone gets detained, their loved ones can ask for an immigrant bond, and if granted, can allow for the detained individual to let go home while they go through court proceedings. This fund helps families bring their loved ones home

DONATE TO THE IMMIGRANT DEFENDERS LAW CENTER: An immigrant rights group that provides free legal services to immigrants

DONATE TO THE COALITION FOR HUMANE IMMIGRANT RIGHTS: Another immigrant rights group that provides free legal services to immigrants

If donating is something you can't do, you can also

REPORT 🧊 SIGHTINGS: If you are in the US and see 🧊 in your community, report it to rapid response line OR websites such as People Over Papers. If you do report a sighting, please be detailed and make sure it's accurate. We want to inform communities, not incite fear!

IF YOU SEE SOMEONE GETTING DETAINED BY 🧊, RECORD/ DOCUMENT IT: Videos and photos can help connect people find their loved ones and even possibly help in their case.

SUPPORT LOCAL PRO-IMMIGRANT GROUPS/ BUSINESSES IN YOUR AREA: Google them, trust me they exist. See what you can do. Show them your support.

INFORM PEOPLE OF THEIR RIGHTS: Read more at Immigrant Resource Legal Center and the ACLU about rights that every person, no matter their legal status, has in the US.

Obviously this is not everything one can do but it's something to get started. Feel free to share and build on from this post.

Also as a heads up, from here on out, if I post something about world affairs/politics, I will tag it as "hahaifolded politics."

And lastly, thank you for taking the time to read this and thank you for your support for the immigrant community.

Gracias, Folded

[hahaifolded]

“We’re in a fanfic drought” Tell the writers you like their work.

“All Tumblr ever does is write oneshots now” Tell the writers that you’d love to see them write longer things.

“Nobody updates their fics anymore” Tell the writers you love the fic and want to see more of it.

Tell the writers.

[hahaifolded]

cuetes

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x latina!reader warnings: canon compliant violence. no beta so whatev a/n: i wrote this for @hahaifolded after we were talking about the lack of good latino representation in the fandom. hope you like it folded 🥺💕

There is something to be said about how easily Simon Riley can be bribed. Off the field, of course. He’d never put his team at risk on the field.

But with his third tamal in hand and the half drunk jarrito next to his elbow, Rudy can see how little it takes to sway him. He doesn’t get to sit with the realization too long before another body steps into the doorway.

“Who brought the ghost?” You lean your shoulder against the doorframe as you survey the stranger that’s sat in the midst of all your family members.

Rudy snorts, the unintentional pun missed on your part, while he shrugs. “You know me, always catching strays.”

Your gaze shoots over to Rudy and you raise an eyebrow, “Stray?” The incredulous tone of your voice is amplified by the once over you give Simon. “Aren’t strays supposed to be scrawny? Hanging on by a thread, pure skin and bone? He seems to be real well fed.”

Rudy shakes his head, laughter carries in his voice, “Well SAS does a pretty good job of keeping their boys working at full throttle.”

You shift, slightly, but enough for your uncle to see the way your body loses some of it’s ease.

“SAS? What are the brits doing on Mexican soil? They never venture this deep into latam.”

He grimaces, one of his hands sliding out of his pocket to rub across the face, “You know I can’t tell you that Mechas.”

You roll your eyes before turning from the party and trudging further into the orange colored kitchen, “And when the hell has that stopped you from telling me about what’s happening.”

“It’s different this time mija. We’re dealing with unprecedented  circumstances.”

“Unprecedented?” Your hands grip the edge of the ceramic tile, white and blue cover the kitchen island that separate you and your uncle, “You had no problem telling me about the routes the mareros setup but you have a problem with this?”

“Mechas.”

Whatever Rudy is looking to say next is left unsaid as the pale stranger ducks into your grandmother’s kitchen. Despite the doorframe being a bit too small for him he has no problem standing at full height in the room. The home fitted with raised ceilings to allow for hotter air to rise and helping with the circulation of air during the heat waves.

He looks out of place in the room. In this whole ordeal, really. Family had travelled from all corners of the continent to gather at the matriarchal home, bringing with them the different flavors of Spanish. It made the English speakers scarce, and those who were there were easier to spot, especially with an accent that’s not heard around Las Almas often.

Your eyes narrow, eyebrows drawing together, “What are you doing here?”

Simon’s eyes meet Rudy’s before they’re on you again, “Eating.”

If it’s an attempt at a joke it falls flat, annoying you further.

“If this is what the SAS considers their best I worry for the state of that island.” You scoff and turn around towards the pot holding the warm atole.

You focus on pouring yourself a cup of the warm liquid, missing the look exchanged between the two men. The creases around Rudy’s eyes deepen as his worrisome gaze settles on you.

Simon can’t help the clench he feels in his gut at the sight. He’s thankful there’s no one to worry for him the way you worry for your uncle. He wonders for a split second if Rudy can feel the weight of your worries on the field. A constant weight and anchor pulling him back to this house. To his family.

“Does Yaya know?”

“She doesn’t need to know my every move Mechas.”

Your back is still turned to him but he can still see you shaking your head, “Foreigners mean trouble. Yaya knows that better than anyone. So either you told her outright or you let her connect the dots himself by bringing him here.”

You turn, not bothering to look at either of them as you cross the kitchen in search of a spoon. Simon follows your movements across the kitchen, keeping Rudy in his peripheral as he observes the tightness in your shoulders.

“Mechas,” Rudy starts but he doesn’t get far before your glare cuts him off.

“Stop.” You place your cup down on the island with force. The liquid sloshes around the cup, circling the edge of the cup as if deciding if it wishes to spill. In the end it doesn’t, settling into itself again as the energy disperses.

“Don’t give me some bullshit promise you’re not even sure you can keep. Don’t tell me you’re coming back if there’s even a possibility you won’t.”

Simon’s been in Las Almas for a short amount of time, but he knows Rudy. Trusts this man with his life, he’s saved it a few times already. So it’s easy to follow the minuscule reactions of hurt at your words. He knows empty promises are one of the only things that keeps a soldier going. The belief that they’ll be able to make good on those promises.

No matter how many times others aren’t able to.

“I’ll bring him back.” The words slip out before he understands what he’s telling you. An idiotic thing to promise someone who he just now met.

You’re thinking much of the same if the way you glare at him is anything to go by.

“And who are you to promise anything to me?” The softness of your face is deceptive to the bite of your tongue. Simon has heard worse from men bigger than him, meaner, and yet your words slice at him the way a blade slices at skin. Quick, deep.

There’s molasses dripping down his throat, choking him, his words stick to it.

You scoff, “Your words are no good to me.”

Rudy leaves him no room to respond, stepping in and attempting to mitigate your concern. None of the words Rudy says tamp the fury in your eyes or the strange tight sensation Simon feels between his ribs.

Bringing Rudy back to you seems like the only solution for both.

—

The stranger brings Rudy back. Bruised, battered, and bloodied but alive. And in the end that’s all that matters.

There’s no words spoken between the three of you, a heavy silence fills the kitchen as you get to work on cleaning up your uncle. You pull rags from cabinets and fill shallow pails with cool water to tend to wounds. It’s a silent endeavor, only the straining of the rags filling the room with sound. You don’t know how long you tend to your uncle for, but by the time you turn to face his strange companion his water is murky too.

Rudy must have told him the rules of Yaya’s home because there’s no trace of military gear on him. The only evidence of the violence he’s experienced is the dark stain on his shirt. Whatever liquid soaked into the shirt darkens the black cotton even more. His jeans are caked in the familiar light brown color of the soil around Las Almas.

You stop the analysis as soon as you feel the bile rise in the back of your throat.

Instead, you busy yourself with grabbing both batches of murky water to drain out in the pila outside. You don’t have the energy to talk to your uncle right now, much less deal with the look he reserves for you when he comes back from missions. You just lather up the rags with zote and scrub them against the ribbed cement.

The water runs red for sometime before it slowly morphs to pink and then a slight cloudy view, until finally it’s clear. The hens cluck around you, Chancho also waddles nearby to investigate your movements as you wash.

You’re too focused on washing and not trying to think that you miss the stranger stepping out into the backyard with you. The hens don’t scare off, instead they cluck at him, winding themselves between his legs as they inspect him. Chancho does the same, slowly approaching him and sniffing around before the spotted pig decides there’s nothing important for him there.

“Questioning is the family trait then, yeah?” His voice is low, raspy, like he hasn’t spoken in days. Hasn’t had a drop of water in weeks.

You spare him a glance, not wanting to look at him for long, when his face catches your attention.

No new wounds, plenty of old ones, but the area around his eyes is covered in black. Giving him the look of a child with face paint on him. Instinctually, you wring the rag before stepping to him and starting to blot away at the black.

Whatever he’d come out to do is put on the back burner as he freezes at your movements. He barely breathes, eyes focusing on the focused look on your face as you drag the multicolored towel across his cheekbones. You don’t ask for permission as you gingerly take his jaw into your hand, moving his head every which way to get the eyeblack off of him.

“Is being pushy a family trait too?”

You scowl at him, the grip on his jaw tightening, “Is that what this is to you Europeans? We call it hospitality out here.”

“Invading someone’s personal space?”

“Taking care of someone’s son.”

He knows you don’t know anything about him, let alone the tragedy that was Manchester, but the words still manage to dislodge something in him. The idea that kind hands and homes are offered to children, no matter who they are.

He tucks that away to sit with in the future. Not now.

Now he focuses on the feel of your hands against the scruff on his jaw.

–

You’re on the outskirts of the room watching the conversation that swirls around the big wooden table. The extended that was local had gathered at Yaya’s to discuss El Sin Nombre’s capture.

It was a pointless conversation that you had no interest participating in. Win or not, the work was pointless. One narco falls, a vacuum opens up, another takes their place. Tale as old as time, something the Mexican government surely wont fix with this singular capture.

Simon is next to you, sitting silently as the low conversation fills the rest of the room. He’s watching the table while you stare out the window at the stray dogs circling the street. It takes them a minute to find the food you’ve left for them but when they finally do you make a happy noise.

“Not interested in the familial debrief?”

You snort at his question, not even bothering to look at him directly, “This family has lived through the capture of dozens of narcos. I already know how this conversation goes.”

Simon doesn’t respond, just shifts his attention to you while you continue to pay him no mind.

“Honestly would be cheaper if you would stay longer to come and catch the next one. Saves you a flight.”

“This your way of asking me to stick around?”

You can’t help the noise you make at that, “If you stick around here longer than you need to I don’t think you’ll be of any good service to the force. I hear men incapacitated by the heat don’t do well.”

He huffs out a laugh, bringing the Modelo up to his lips for a swig. The cool malty liquid cuts through the heat that seems to have invaded his mouth, much like the rest of the city. He glances around the quaint family home, heat pressing into him in a way that never has before, and realizes just how deep Las Almas has sunk it’s claws into him.

He spares you a glance, still engrossed in the activities of the strays, and studies you for a second. Your body rests against the cushions, not at ease but not tense. Always alert, he thinks to himself. The same way he is back home. Never letting his guard down, assured in his own abilities, but never wanting to get caught off guard. It’s how he’s been living his whole life.

You let out a small sigh, cheek pressing into the cushion, the pressure of your cheek pushing out your lips just a bit.

He takes another drink.

Yeah. He can stick around for a little more

[hahaifolded]

Sorry y'all - this has been marinating for awhile. Please accept this word vomit por favor… this is in reference to If I Can't, No One Can after this part. Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Death, Possible insinuation of suicide (depends on how you read it)

Because I can’t stop thinking how you stand nervously with Kate at the tarmac. She just got off the phone on evac, informing her that the mission had to be cut short. They don’t tell her much, but inform her that one of the teams didn’t make it. 

So you stand with her on the landing bay with baited breath to see who made it and who didn’t. You’re honestly not sure who you want to see walk off that plane. 

Do you want to see Price, the man who you still secretly look up to, or Ghost, who’s approval  you still craved, or Kyle, who’s smile makes you feel like everything will be okay even if it isn’t for you, or Johnny, the man who’s laugh never fails to make your heart flutter? Did you want to see the 141 walk off that plane, bruised and beaten, but alive? Despite everything you’ve gone through these past few months, do you still want to see them alive and well or would you prefer—

“Eyes ahead. They just landed.” Kate’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. You look ahead and see the evac plane opening up, revealing who came back.

Your heart feels like its about to explode as Price, Ghost, Kyle, and Johnny wobble out of the evac plane. If they’re here that means your boys are lying in some ditch in who knows where. That means no more words of wisdom from your gentle giant Nikto. That means no more random snack breaks with your pretty boy Keegan. That means that no more impromptu meetings about the randomest things with your sweet boy Horangi. Ultimately that means you’re still stuck here with them. 

“Thank God,” Kate whispers. She moves towards the banged-up 141 and signals you to follow. You take a step forward but falter as your knees nearly give out. Kate pauses and looks back at you. Her gaze confused at first but immediately falls as she sees the grief in your own. 

And I’ll be honest, I am not sure how Kate would react here. Because it can go one to two ways:

At that moment, everything clicks for Kate Laswell. Maybe not 100% but she at least understands that you are not ecstatic with the 141’s return. So she pauses and decides to give you a moment. She may not get what’s going on but she knows that the 141 did something for you to not be relieved by their return. 

But on the other hand, I can also see Kate being utterly confused and even annoyed because why aren’t you happy? The 141 are alive and well. Sure, the Kor-tac boys didn’t make it back but your guys did. So maybe in this scenario, she tells you to get it together and pockets this for a future scolding conversation. 

But one thing for sure, no matter how Kate reacts, the 141 make the devastating revelation. You are not relieved that they are alive. You are not happy to see them. You are devastated that they came back instead of the trio. You wish that Kor-tac had returned, not them. 

They eventually make it to you and Kate and feel the awkward energy. Kate hugs Price while you just awkwardly stand behind her, doing your very best to control the tears welling in your eyes. Despite Kate being right in front of them and expressing her relief for their return, they all stare at you. Price feels like a piece of shit. Johnny can feel is heart about to give out. Ghost goes numb despite the gun shot wounds. And Gaz feels bile climb up his throat.

Kyle tries to go in for a hug (because being so close to death made him realize that he needed you, that no-contact rule Price put can go to hell for all he knows), but Ghost stops him. The Lieutenant can tell now is not the time. 

“Gentleman, g-glad you’re back,” you manage to say through gritted teeth. You take one deep breath and mask all of your emotions. Your face hardens and goes blank. Everyone is taken aback, even Kate. 

Johnny is the first to recover from your sudden energy shift. “I am so sorry. We tried saving them but there were too ma—“

You cut him off. “No need, Sergeant. Loss is part of the job.” You nearly get away with this whole no-emotion act if it wasn’t for you swallowing as soon as you finished your declaration. 

“Love.” John calls out to you. He takes a step forward but you immediately take one back. You put a hand out and shake your head no, keep them all at bay. Your facade breaks. Tears stream your face. You try to hold back your sob, but the pain is too much. 

Why did your sweet team have to die? Why did they abandon you? Why did they leave you alone with these four who don’t care about you?

Why couldn’t you have gone with them? 

Word Count: 855

Author's Note: I genuinely considered this. But I held back because it would just be too much. Maybe some other time, in some other series, who knows. Also y'all ignore the fact that I could have reblogged this, I had my reasons

More Thoughts - Folded's Masterlist - Important Message

[hahaifolded]

ik i just run a tumblr smut page BUT!!!

FUCK ICE, free palestine, free congo, FUCK trump, FUCK musk, no one is illegal on stolen land, and if u disagree, FUCK YOU TOO!!!

i’ve said this before but if u support that fuckass orange in office, idc if ur a silent follower or ur like is ur only form of interacting with me, just know, i don’t want it!!! and u are a terrible person!!! 😛

[hahaifolded]

As a Latina, an American, and as someone who has somehow amassed a small following, I can no longer stay silent. While I like the idea of having a non-political space as a breather of everything that is going on, I realized that I cannot stay silent and not use this small blog of mine to speak on the blatant abuse and violence that is going on against my community.

So if you are willing and interested in helping immigrants in the United States, please look below.

DONATE TO THE DETAINED IMMIGRANT BOND FUND: When someone gets detained, their loved ones can ask for an immigrant bond, and if granted, can allow for the detained individual to let go home while they go through court proceedings. This fund helps families bring their loved ones home

DONATE TO THE IMMIGRANT DEFENDERS LAW CENTER: An immigrant rights group that provides free legal services to immigrants

DONATE TO THE COALITION FOR HUMANE IMMIGRANT RIGHTS: Another immigrant rights group that provides free legal services to immigrants

If donating is something you can't do, you can also

REPORT 🧊 SIGHTINGS: If you are in the US and see 🧊 in your community, report it to rapid response line OR websites such as People Over Papers. If you do report a sighting, please be detailed and make sure it's accurate. We want to inform communities, not incite fear!

IF YOU SEE SOMEONE GETTING DETAINED BY 🧊, RECORD/ DOCUMENT IT: Videos and photos can help connect people find their loved ones and even possibly help in their case.

SUPPORT LOCAL PRO-IMMIGRANT GROUPS/ BUSINESSES IN YOUR AREA: Google them, trust me they exist. See what you can do. Show them your support.

INFORM PEOPLE OF THEIR RIGHTS: Read more at Immigrant Resource Legal Center and the ACLU about rights that every person, no matter their legal status, has in the US.

Obviously this is not everything one can do but it's something to get started. Feel free to share and build on from this post.

Also as a heads up, from here on out, if I post something about world affairs/politics, I will tag it as "hahaifolded politics."

And lastly, thank you for taking the time to read this and thank you for your support for the immigrant community.

Gracias, Folded

[hahaifolded]

[hahaifolded]

girl did you add the pride flags to your pfp!?!?!? LMAOOOO

Yes maa’aam… for PRIDE MONTHHHHH!

[hahaifolded]

self imposed wound

chapter: two pairing: john 'johnny' mactavish x latina!reader warnings: depections of the beginning of an attempted sexual assault. nightmares related to ptsd. violence, reader is defending herself. sexual themes. a/n: this was not proofread so whatever :P y'all enjoy it though

The cool, grainy brick grinds into the exposed skin of your hip, leaving the minuscule imprints of its grains. It helps to cut through the heat that radiates from your skin, grounds you. You need it now more than ever as the man attached to your lips presses into the wall more, intent on devouring you.

It started off slow. A simple hand around your wrist, rubbing the area where three of your veins crossed over one another. Actively rushing blood along their enclosed routes, invigorated by the mere touch of this man. It’s dizzying to feel his calloused fingers around your skin. Even more disorientating to feel the dips of his own callouses in his hands as they press into your skin. You’re sure that off touch alone you’d be able to draw the map of his hand, where the thickest callouses lie, what curves the lines on his fingertips follow.

It leaves you a little breathless. A little wild.

It’s why you surge forward when you see his hooded eyes look up at you, asking for your permission.

You’re not even sure how you managed to get above him, but it makes kissing him easier, pushing off the step, dipping your head down, and pressing your lips to his.

It’s bold. You’ve only known of him for a few months, spoken to him for less than a week, and yet here you are initiating the kiss.

Johnny immediately wraps you up in his arms. A hand sliding to the back of your neck, heavy and warm, and another to your lower back, one finger sliding into the belt loop of your jeans so he has a solid grip on you.

He deepens the kiss. Walking you backwards until you're pressed against the wall, leaving only the space between you two to be eliminated. He’s careful, though, not trying to cage you completely, so that you understand you have an easy out if you need it.

It makes you want to kiss him more.

It’s cold in Glasgow, but you’d never be able to guess with the way your skin flares alive as you kiss. The skin he touches blazes as his lips travel down your neck, and his fingers manage to graze skin just above your waistband.

It’s maddening how it all feels. You’ve never felt this way at a man’s touch. It’s disorienting.

You steal breaths from each other's lips, catching enough to feed your lungs before you try to quench the thirst of each other with your lips. It’s never enough.

Johnny pulls away, panting, a sliver of saliva hangs between you two, connecting your shiny lips. He leans his forehead against yours, soft blue eyes looking into yours, searching for something.

“You trust me?”

For a moment, you can’t help the way your eyebrows draw together as your eyes soften at him. You’ve never trusted anyone in your life more than him. It’s uncanny how quickly he’s managed to gain your trust.

Then, the edges start blurring. Your view of Johnny’s face flickers, becoming dark as you lose track of his features. Your vision flickers in front of you, and slowly, the man in front of you morphs. Boyish smile and blue eyes replaced by something worse, unwanted.

You press yourself into the wall now, putting as much distance between yourself and the demonic entity that’s plagued your dreams, but he has your wrist in his grasp. Not gentle or reassuring, no. His grip is meant to keep you trapped.

You can feel the fear climbing up your body. Ice cold shooting from the pit of your stomach to other extremities, freezing parts of you in the process.

You’re going to throw up.

You can’t make out his face, but you can see his sly smirk. Lifted to the side, showing crooked teeth, no doubt excited about the position he has you in. You can feel the panic building, capitalizing on the frozen state of your body.

You need to get out of this. By any means necessary. You need to do something.

In the end, violence wins. The only way out is through, and for you, that means shocking your body into action with a bit of pain. Before the demon can do anything you lean forward, inching into his space despite your body screaming at you to stop, before throwing your head back against the wall.

You let out a gasp as your eyes shoot open and you’re back in your room in Glasgow. The cool air of your apartment already trying to calm and ease your clammy skin that the sheets stick to.

Four thousand eight hundred thirty kilometers of ocean is not enough to keep the nightmares away.

-

You end up at Taqueria Las Almas, veering away from the crowd of people looking for a taste of your continent, headed down a brightly lit hallway. The sound fades as you walk towards the brown door at the end, a single wooden slab hangs on it with the word “pulperia”.

Pulperia Las Almas isn’t on any map. There’s barely a trace of it online, only scraps found on the spanish forums where folks are searching for a piece of home to bring them some comfort among the highlands. You’d been guided to it by Doña Julia. She’d wrapped her weathered hand around your arm, leading you down the hallway while you spoke about home. Chastising you for the formal use of spanish with her.

“Aquí entre nosotros no hay necesidad de eso mi niña. Nosotros somos familia.”

The pulperia envelops you as soon as you walk in. Woodsy warm air fighting away the coolness of the Glasgownian air, floating through your hair just like the wind home. There’s the slight smell of seasoned meats and stewed beans that floats in from the kitchen next door, the music they’re playing dampened. Julietta sits at the register and lights up when she sees you.

“Yiyi! Yer back!”

It’s always interesting to hear how Glasgow takes hold of the children’s english, soaking into it the longer they’re here. It makes the switch to their spanish that much more jarring, Scottish and traditional Spanish an unlikely combo.

“Hi Juli,” you grin back at her, observing her bright brown eyes and curled hair. “I heard you guys finally got a shipment of crema in. Had to come and see if I can could snag some.”

Julietta leans forward in her seat, hands bracing against the counter, “Aye! Got in just yesterday. Ma made sure to get a bit of everything for what yer cooking.”

She pauses for a moment, eyes shooting across the shelves behind you, “There are actually two blokes that came in asking about that too. Haven’t seen ‘em since they walked in and honestly getting a bit worried.”

You feel your forehead creasing a little. Julietta isn’t someone you worry for, the girl can handle enough business for herself and her brother. But you’d rather she didn’t, she’s young after all.

“I’ll do a round and report back to you, sound good?”

She grins at you and nods, some of the curls falling into her face. You grin back before turning to move through the shelves. They’re filled with all kinds of goodies from home. Sweets, breads, preserved vegetables, and all kinds of beans. You grab some as you pass, looking to build out a meal like the ones you had when you were younger. It always warded off any lingering malicious energy around you. As if the grains themselves had been blessed to protect you.

It’s childish, but you think the soil still carries the love the ancestors held for their children. You’re not home anymore, it’s been years since you’ve had that soil under your feet, but these grains bring their blessings to you. An ocean’s not enough to keep that from you.

And you’re thankful it’s not enough to keep dairy from home either. You’re met with cool air as soon as you step into the lane of closed door refrigerators that house all sorts of goods from home. But you’re distracted almost immediately by two towering strangers huddled right in front of the door that houses the cheese varieties.

There’s two, but the other individual is hidden by the man closest to you. Tall, broad, decked in all black with a mask and a hat pulled as far down as possible. He’s analyzing the contents of the fridge in a way you’d think one of them wronged him. No wonder Juli seemed so skeeved out, you’d be worried if she was alone with them too. Friendly or not, that’s just the reaction the man seems to elicit. Better to try and help him and his friend out so they can get out of Julietta’s hair and let you browse the store in peace.

“Sir,” you raise your voice slightly, sweetening it, “do you need help with anything?”

Two things happen at once. The man in all black glances your way, studying you for a quick second, and then you hear your name come from behind him. He steps back, glancing to his left as he does, and you’re in the direct eyesight of John MacTavish.

Your body reacts without meaning to. Warming your belly and spreading across your body, hands tightening around the basket in your hands, heartbeat thumping in your chest. You thank whatever higher power exists that you’ve learned how to mask your reactions to anything. It makes it a hell of a lot easier to present a neutral front to the man who has no idea that he was intending to devour you in your dreams.

“John.” A short full sentence, even tone, giving nothing away. The masked man’s turned his attention back at you, eyebrow raising just slightly at John’s name.

“Johnny” he takes it in stride, smiling at you as if it’s an honest mistake. You know that he knows it’s not. That you’ve both been around each other at the center enough to know he prefers being called Johnny. John, after all, was his father’s name. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“This doesn’t seem like your scene.” Mask exhales, your eyes dart to him for a second before flicking back to John. Worried he’ll do something if you don’t keep him in your direct line of sight.

“Aye, not really no.” He laughs unabashedly, before continuing, “One of our mates sent over a mexican recipe and we’re trying to recreate it.”

You nod, glancing down at the ingredients in his basket trying to piece the recipe together. You take a few steps forward, pulling the cheese in the basket out, holding it up for John to see. “You’ve got the wrong kind of cheese.”

“Haven’t even seen the recipe, how’s that possible?”

You’re already opening the fridge door, scanning the Mexican section before you spot the queso fresco and pull out a packaged block. “Because you’re looking for queso fresco, not cuajada.”

John lights up as you pass the cheese to him, “Aye!”

“How’d you know?” Mask finally pipes up, voice low and gravelly. Mustn’t have had a drink today.

“Different regions, different uses, different cheeses. Cuajada is more common in Central American dishes.”

He nods, satisfied with your answer. You step back, stepping out of their general bubble. You should get out of here. The longer you’re in John’s space, the hotter you’re getting. It’s a problem you need to dig into in the privacy of your home, not the dairy aisle of the pulperia.

John pipes up before you can leave. “You alright?”

“I’m sorry?”

He half shurgs, dropping the cheese into the basket, passing the basket into his now free hand. “You look a bit unwell is all. You doing okay?”

You shake your head, “Fine.”

“Right,” John doesn’t seem convinced, “if you need anyth-”

“I’m alright John. Thank you.”

A beat of silence.

“I should get going. I’ll see you.”

You nod at him and Mask and make your way to pay for whatever made it into your basket. You ease Julietta’s nerves and wish her good luck on her upcoming quiz before you head straight home, no pit stops made on the way. Trying your best to keep yourself occupied to keep the thought of Johnny at bay.

It works, until it doesn’t.

Somehow, in the comfort of your own home, you feel the ghost of his hand around your wrist. It’s so real your head whips up expecting to find him sitting next to you. On his knees, pushing himself up to be over you, to trap you against the arm of the couch.

But he’s not there. No one is.

And somehow, his hands are still on you. They move from your wrists up your arms to your shoulders. His thumbs pressing against the pulse points on your neck before they stray. One hand moving to hold the back of your neck, the other exploring the front of your body.

He isn’t here. And yet, you still feel him. He’s flooding your senses despite his absence, it’s driving you insane.

It all ends with you in bed. The ghost of Johnny’s hands over you as you work yourself into a different kind of sweat on your sheets. Experiencing a different kind of touch that you thought had been robbed from you years ago.

That’s come back to you at the touch of hands calloused and worn from years of manual work. Eyes that seem to look right into you. Deep, gravelly voice that stirs something in you. Memorized to the point you can almost hear him mutter something to you in his absence.

“This alright?”

And your eyes are rolling back into your head.

[hahaifolded]

‘why do you read “various x reader stories?”’

first, i’m a narcissist and will not read it if it’s not about me

second, I love the feeling of people liking me

third, I was ignored as a child

[hahaifolded]

I went back and read this as I am considering on writing a Part 2 and damn some of the dialogue here was ROUGH. So I went back and edited it 😈

But also, as I am considering on writing a Part 2 , I need y'alls opinion on something

Pay Back - John Price x POC!FemReader

Summary: After learning more about John's love life, you are determined in helping John make his ex jealous. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, Fake Relationship, Mutual Pining, Small Age Gap, Misunderstandings, Slight Angst, Cheating (not by Price or Reader), Suggestive Themes, Military Inaccuracies, Sexism, Microaggressions, Cursing, Attempted Assault, Mild Violence Word Count: 4740

“So Cap'n, how come you're not married yet?” asked Gaz before taking the last sip of his beer. After a grueling mission and what seemed like never endless meetings, Price decided to take the team out for drinks at the local bar. But now as the conversation steered towards his love life, Price was starting to regret his decision.

“Leave the man alone,” scolded Ghost.

“Why? It’s a fair question,” whined Soap. They all looked at Price, waiting for their captain’s reaction.

However, before John could say anything, you returned to the table with 5 beers in your hands. “This round is technically on the man in the suit but seeing that I had to talk to him, it’s on me,” you gleamed as you set the beers down in front of the boys. Smiling at them, you plopped next to Ghost, holding one beer in your hand. Gaz and Soap immediately reached for one as the lieutenant nudged you, almost in gratitude. John thanked you for the drink, eyes stuck at how close you sat next to Ghost.

You were the CIA liaison, handpicked by Laswell to work with the 141. Despite being hesitant at first, Price couldn’t be happier with your arrival as you brought a much needed balance to the taskforce. You immediately matched Soap’s and Gaz’s energy, eased yourself in Ghost’s reserved sphere, and made Price’s life so much easier.

But, at the same time you also complicated it as he found himself developing a small crush on you. Instead of acting on it, however, John maintained a level of professionalism with you. First of all, he was your direct superior. In addition, he couldn’t bring himself to rob you of your youth as you were closer to Ghost's age than the old man. And besides, he suspected that something was brewing between you and Ghost with how close you two were and he wasn’t going to get in the middle of that. No matter how he felt, he couldn’t have you.

“So, what are we talking about?” you asked. Ghost tried to change the topic but Gaz beat him to it.

“I was here asking the cap'n why he hasn’t gotten married yet. But your buddy here thought we were doing too much,” informed Gaz with mischief in his eyes. Soap let out a deep chuckle as Ghost let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oooh wait, I want to know the answer, because not to be weird, but you’re an absolute catch, Captain. I’m surprised you don’t have someone waiting for you back home,” you let out. Clearly, the alcohol was starting to affect your self control.

With all the attention on him, John took a swig from his beer for some instant courage. “It’s not like I haven’t wanted to. I just haven’t had the best of luck finding a woman after my fiancée left.”

“What!” you and the boys gasped in unison. Now Price was regretting this whole night. Letting out an exasperated breath, John shared his tragic story.

Of how he was engaged with his secondary school sweetheart, Anna. How Anna and him planned to get married after his first deployment. But, something went wrong and Price accidentally caused his lieutenant at the time to break his leg. Feeling guilty, he signed up Anna to take care of the man while John and the rest of the team finished the mission. And after a month out in the desert, John came back to find his lieutenant shagging his fiancée. Heartbroken, the now-SAS captain left and threw himself into his work. The last he heard of them was that they got married as they kindly sent him an invitation. Everyone stared at John, in disbelief at his story.

“That is horrible, Cap'n. I didn’t mean to pry. Had I known, I wouldn’t have asked,” apologized Gaz. Soap and Ghost seconded him. Price just sheepishly smiled, assuring them it was fine.

“IT’S NOT FINE!” you asserted as you slammed your beer on the table. Your eyes burned with anger. You immediately turned to the team and waved your arms. “We need to do something about this!” you incredulously announced.

“And I think you need to stop drinking,” said Ghost as he grabbed your beer.

“Back off,” you said as you pulled your beer away. “I say we call Laswell, borrow some nuclear codes, and blow them up!”

“Oh, she for sure needs to stop drinking,” joked Soap. Gaz and Ghost broke out in a deep laugh, amused by your suggestion. You looked at the men with wide eyes, unable to understand why they weren’t ready to start a riot. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe someone could do such a thing to their fiancée and teammate. As a victim of cheating yourself, your heart ached for John.

You turned your gaze to Price and reached for his hand. John felt his face burn as your fingers intertwined with his. You looked deeply into his eyes and shared, “John, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but just know that what Anna and your lieutenant did to you is absolutely unacceptable and if I could,” you paused to take in a deep breath. John couldn’t help but feel shy under your gaze. “I would get revenge for you… just say the word.” Ghost pulled you back, letting you know that was enough.

Price thanked you. As much as it hurt, John learned to live with the betrayal. It wasn’t the last time he would be betrayed so he tried not to dwell too much on it. Sure, it severely hurt his view on romance but he was a SAS soldier for Christ's sake, he didn’t necessarily have time for it either.

Soap immediately changed topics, opting to talk about his recent slew of dates and how each one was a dud. Price tried to pay attention to his sergeant’s antics but found himself glancing at you as you opted to scroll on your phone instead. Whatever you were looking for, you seemed determined.

After half an hour of Soap talking, you started to whisper in Ghost’s ear, shoving your phone in the lieutenant’s face. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a clear sign that he was amused by whatever you were showing him.

“What’s got you two so cozy over there?” asked Soap with a slight lilt in his voice.

“Nothing,” you sang. You looked up at Price. “Quick question, can Ghost and I get next weekend off to go to,” you paused to look at your phone, “Edinburgh?”

“Why?” His heart sank. Maybe you and Ghost were a lot closer than he thought.

Ghost laughed. “Seems like our little spy here found your old lieutenant and ex and wants to pay them a visit.”

“I just want to talk... promise.”

Soap and Gaz immediately grabbed your phone, curious to see the woman who broke their captain’s heart.

“That's her?!" shouted Gaz. He immediately stopped when Price shot him a glare.

“And who’s the man next to her? Her dad?” inquired Soap as Gaz handed him your phone. Price took a peak at it. His eyes widened.

“Nope, I think that’s my old lieutenant. Lt. Murphy,” informed Price. He didn’t expect to see his old lieutenant look so sad. He remembered how the man used to exude strength and respect, something that John admired when he was younger. Now it looked like the years finally caught up to him.

“Well, whoever he is, he needs to make his Facebook likes private. It’s clear he has a type,” you added as you grabbed your phone. The man’s account made your skin crawl. You couldn’t believe that such a disgusting man was able to steal your boss’ fiancée right under his nose.

“So what do you say… can we get the next weekend off?” you asked again, throwing out your best puppy dog eyes to Price. Your desire to defend your captain was making John feel so good but so wrong at the same time. Ghost was a lucky man.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, you and I have the ball next week,” informed Price. To his dismay, Price had been called to London to be this year’s distinguished guest at the annual military gala. John absolutely hated the event as instead of celebrating the real valiant efforts of soldiers like his men, it was a just a sad dick measuring contest between men who forgot what real bravery was. The only silver lining was his plus one, you.

“Oh fuck, you’re right,” you recalled. You grabbed Ghost by his arm and told him to hold off on the plan which made the masked man chuckle. Price gripped his beer a little tighter to refrain from lunging at his teammate. At least he had you to himself next weekend.

— — —

“I really can’t believe you forgot to pack deodorant,” you playfully scolded your captain. After checking in to the hotel, you and Price made a quick trip to the store.

“Well, we’re not all as sharp as you, love,” he quipped. Love. That got your heart beating. Despite the boys calling you love regularly, it only ever made your heart flutter when Price said it. You knew it wasn't right, but you yearned for the man next to you. No one knew but Ghost who quickly became your confidant. However, you knew that John wasn't interested as he always kept you at arm's length, forcing you to be content with just being his co-worker.

You and Price immediately split up once inside. Price made his way towards the men’s toiletries while you perused the surrounding area.

As you looked at some vitamins, you heard a woman shriek your captain’s name. You peered over and felt your eyes almost jump out of your head. In front of John Price was a blonde woman close to his age greeting him like he was an old friend. But she was nothing close to that as it was Anna, his cheating ex-fiancée. The audacity of that woman as she tried to catch up with John like it wasn’t her fault for why it’s been a “long time no see.”

Seeing your captain look so uncomfortable made you see red. You quickly grabbed a nearby product, switched your ring from one finger to another, and made your way to Price with a plan in mind

— — —

John never wanted to die more in his life. Anna, who was once the love of his life before she discarded him like trash, stood in front of him, trying to make the most awkward small talk ever.

“So John, how have you been?” she asked.

Before John could answer, he felt a smooth hand run around his waist, dropping something in his basket. His breath got stuck in his throat when he realized it was you. You pressed up against him, head on his shoulder. He turned his head to find your face a mere few inches away. You flashed him a wide smile, eyes shining with love and adoration.

“Found what we’re looking for, baby,” you said with a wink. John looked down to see that you had dropped a big box of condoms in his basket. His mouth salivated. You giggled as you grabbed on to his arm, completely attaching yourself to his side. He must be dreaming.

“Who’s this, John?” interrupted Anna. Despite having a smile on her face, her voice sounded tense, almost accusatory.

John mentioned your name but pauses as he's unsure what you were trying to do here. “She's my um...“

“Fiancée,” you finished. You extended your hand out, showing off a ring on your fourth finger. You quickly pulled it back and placed a quick kiss on John’s cheek, further staking your claim on the man. John smiled back as he realized what you were doing. He found himself falling for you more.

“Oh wow, congrats! Can’t wait to get an invite,” quipped Anna. John felt your grip tighten around his arm.

You looked up at John, confusion written on your face. Turning back to Anna, you innocently asked, “I’m sorry, but who are you? I don’t think John’s told me about you.” John knew that hit a cord in his former fiancée as she always needed to be the center of attention.

Before Anna could say anything, a rough voice boomed from the back. “How many fucking times have I told you not to walk away while— John?” John’s day just had to get worse as Lt. Nick Murphy stood in front of him, next to his former fiancée, eyes wide at seeing Price.

“Wow, look at you, you’re all grown up now. Tell me what are you up to these days?” asked the man as he puffed out his chest. With you wrapped on his arm, John felt a burst of confidence surge through him. He straightened his posture and proudly shared his promotion to captain for special forces. John had to admit that it felt good to see his former lieutenant shrink a bit when he said that.

"Good for you, my boy. But I do have to ask, who's this cute thing wrapped around your arm?" he asked all smugly. John didn't like the way he looked at you. John instinctually grabbed your hand and proclaimed you as his fiancée.

"Who would have thought that John Price would have grown up to be a cradle robber?" joked the man. Price felt himself sink a little. Sure, you were slightly younger than the man, but he didn't think that the age gap was that obvious.

"Oh please, I had to practically beg the man to go on a date with me," you defended him with a giggle. Unable to read the room, Murphy continued to small talk and asked what brought you both here. You immediately jumped in and gushed about how your man was this year's distinguished guest at the gala. John liked the way you claimed him as yours. But unfortunately for the both of you, they too were here for the celebration.

"You know what, John? Why don't you and the girl come over for dinner tonight? We're renting an apartment in the city. Anna here can cook us some dinner and we can all catch up over some beers," announced Murphy.

"Fiancée," mumbled John. Pretend or not, he was proud to call you his. You tugged on his arm, similar to when an owner pulls on their dog's leash to stop them from lunging. You laid your head on his arm, waiting for John's response.

John was a good soldier and a decent captain, but when he accepted the invitation, he knew he wasn't a good man.

-- -- --

"Are you sure you're fine with this?" Price asked the millionth time as you reached the London apartment. Dressed in a cute sundress that accentuated all of the right parts, you fixed Price's collar, making sure that your fiancé looked the part.

"Yes, John." You rolled your eyes. "I don't think you realize how badly I want to see you win here," you said as you smoothed out the wrinkles on his shoulders. You had to admit, your captain looked good in a white button up. "And don't be scared to touch me, okay? We really have to sell this if we want to win." John laughed at your words which made your cheeks warm.

"Of course, love." There it was again. Walking hand in hand, you both walked to the door.

"Wait," you said. You unbuttoned the first few button's of John's shirt. "Show her what she missed out on." You couldn't help but feel pride at seeing Price's cheeks turned slightly red. Clearing his throat, John knocked. You immediately wrapped yourself around his arm and pressed a small kiss on his cheek at the door opened.

Anna opened the door and excitedly greeted John. The woman was not afraid to hide her distaste towards you as venom dripped in your greeting. Ushering you both in, you and John found Murphy sitting in the living room, beer in hand, lazily watching television.

"John, my boy! Take a seat. Dinner should be ready soon," he hollered. John took a seat on the recliner as he refused to sit on the couch next to his old lieutenant. Without shame, the old man patted the space next to him, calling you over. Your skin prickled as you recalled his type which you unfortunately fit perfectly.

Before you could deny his offer, John immediately pulled you in his lap. "No need. She already has the best seat in the house." He planted a loud kiss on your cheek. Fuck. You knew John was strong, but feeling him so close further proved the man he was. Feeling tonight's host scan your figure, you settled yourself further on your captain's lap.

"John, I made your favor-- oh. Well look at you, someone got comfortable," commented Anna as she walked in with a plate of sausage rolls. Unlike her husband, she glared at you. You just giggled to further get under her skin.

"Sure did," added John as he adjusted you on his lap. Quickly, Murphy and John engaged in some small talk over tonight's football game. John kept a gentle grasp on your waist, occasionally kissing you on the cheek whenever the conversation lulled. Despite being in the warm embrace of your captain, your blood ran cold whenever Murphy's eyes trailed over your body.

Eventually, Anna called you all over to the dining table as she finished cooking. Dinner started off quiet as the tension in the room became too obvious to ignore. Eventually, Murphy decided to speak up.

"So tell me, John, how did you meet this pretty thing?" You loathed this man.

John choked on his food, realizing that neither of you had settled on a backstory. You could sense your captain's hesitation. Grabbing the hand next to you, you decided to take the lead.

"I know it's kinda cliche but I was actually his assistant," you began. "I tried being professional, but the heart wants want it wants. You guys might understand." Feigning ignorance, you looked past the knowing looks in your hosts' eyes and turned your gaze to Price.

"He is literally everything that a woman could want... kind, strong, resilient... handsome. He turned me down at first as John is nothing but respectful, but now after 2 amazing years, we're set to get married in a few months." You kissed him on his lips to seal the deal.

Maybe it was too much, but if this was going to be the only time you could say he was yours, you were going to fully savor it. Besides it only secured the farce that you two had set up as Anna had a tight smile on her face and Murphy stared at John with clear jealousy in his eyes.

Anna cleared her throat in an attempt to ease her jealousy. "Well isn't that a cute story, right Nick?" Murphy just grunted in agreement. However, Anna was not going to let you have the last word as a smirk appeared on her face. "You know what John, I always imagined you settling down with a girl from back home... you know someone more of your caliber." Your chest tightened. You really couldn't believe the gall on this woman. Before you could respond, John stepped up.

"Funny, I also imagined settling down with someone different, but life has a funny way of working itself out," John said with food in mouth. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. Your heart melted. John really had your back both on the field and here. Anna's face turned red, maybe out of embarrassment or anger. You weren't sure.

-- -- --

Dinner continued with a few jabs here in there from tonight's host, but John could care less. Right now, he was just a man in love, engaged to a beautiful woman. Despite the circumstances and less than ideal dinner companions, John wanted to stay here as long as he could so he could still say you were his. However, his bladder had other thoughts.

Price was set on holding it in, opting to bounce his leg to ease the need. However, as observant as always, you gently laid your hand on his bouncing knee and asked Murphy where the bathroom was.

"Oh, the wife will show you. Anna!" he commanded. John threw you a sheepish smile with eyes asking if you would be fine. After you assured him with a small peck, John followed his ex-fiancée to the much needed bathroom.

Finally alone, John let himself loose. He felt his cheeks warm as he recalled every kiss and touch you two exchanged throughout the night. If the night goes on any longer, John would have no choice but completely claim you. Fuck whatever you and Ghost had. It would just be you and John Price, loving boyfriend, loyal fiancé, and eventually your devoted husband.

John washed those thoughts away as water ran through his hands. As much as he wanted you, he couldn't do that to his lieutenant. Ghost also deserved happiness and there it was incarnated as you. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he found himself suddenly being pushed back. Catching him off guard, Anna shoved him against the sink.

She cried out his name and shoved her face into his chest. "Can we please talk? I hate how things ended between us!" Price couldn't believe this woman.

"Fine, but get off of me," he ceded as he gently pushed her off. Anna wiped her nose and sniffled despite not having a single tear on her face. She took in a deep breath and pouted.

"I know what happened was wrong, but I think I was labeled the bad guy without having a chance to defend myself.”

"Well, I wouldn't call shagging my lieutenant while I'm away as heroic."

And instead of owning up to her mistake, Anna blamed it on John as 'he was gone all of the time.' As John heard the woman's excuses, he couldn't believe that he ever loved her. Now that you gave him a small taste of love, despite it being just a facade, he realized that what he and Anna had was nothing close to it.

Anna placed a hand on his chest, interrupting John from his thoughts. "And now seeing you here as a successful captain, I can't help but feel bad for..." Oh, maybe she was going to apologize after all. "...pushing you into the arms of that slag out there." What. "A man like you deserves a classy woman. So tell you what, I'll come back and we can pick up where we left off." What.

Any affection he possibly still harbored for this woman completely disintegrated. He got in her face. "You watch your mouth," he spat out. "(Y/N) is and will always be a better woman than you. You really think I would entertain the likes of you again when I have literal perfection by my side." Before Anna could rebuttal, a loud shriek followed by a resonant slap rung through the apartment.

John immediately rushed back to find Murphy hunched over, hand on his cheek, and you next to him with your dress slightly disheveled.

"You fucking bitch," roared Murphy, lifting his hand to strike you. John ran forward and pinned the man against the table, holding him down by his neck. His heart broke when he saw tears welling in your eyes.

John looked at you and asked, "What happened?" He tried softening his voice, but he couldn't completely mask his anger. He felt horrible. This was all his fault.

"The fucking cunt here seduced me, that’s what happened," responded Murphy through bates breath.

Further pushing him down, John spat out, "I wasn't talking you." He asked you again. With a wobble in your voice, you shared how Murphy made a move on you. Despite denying him, he grabbed you and tried kissing you. Left with no choice, you slapped him across the face.

"Don't act all innocent. You were literally begging for it all night," fought Murphy. John was in disbelief. Was this really the man he admired all those years ago? Of course it was. This was the same man that stole his fiancée. Ready to pummel his face, he looked back at you one more time and immediately calmed down. You looked so broken. Not wanting to further aggravate you, he steered away from violence... for now.

John lifted up the man and threw him towards his wife. "Honestly, you two are perfect for one another," he spat out, venom clear in his voice. “Two muppets that think way too highly of themselves when they have no reason to.”

He grabbed you by the hand and continued, “you two are scum compared to her. I'm not even worthy enough to be with her but, dammit, I try everyday to get close. So don't you dare come tomorrow or I’ll promise I'll make both of your lives a living hell.” And with that, John made his way out with you in hand.

“Oh please, who do you think you are?,” accused Murphy, following closely behind.

You turned around. You had enough. With fire in your eyes, you decided to spit back. “He might not be able to do anything but I promise you, I can and will. I know my and John’s worth and trust me, neither of you come close.”

“You bitch!” snarled Murphy as he lunged for you. It seemed that he forgot that John was still an active soldier as the SAS captain immediately threw a punch in his face. Anna rushed to the man as blood gushed out his nose. With that, you and John stepped out of that disgusting apartment.

— — —

The ride home was quiet. The only sign that your captain was alive was the gentle hold that he had on your hand. Occasionally, his thumb would rub your hand but when you would squeeze back in recognition, he would stop. His face was blank. But you knew your captain. He was probably taking the blame for the entire night which was far from the truth.

The ride up the elevator was also quiet. You snapped when it seemed like the walk to the rooms was going to be quiet too.

“Okay John, what’s wrong?”

Silence.

“John, I’m not going to play this game with you. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Price stopped. He opened his mouth but immediately shut it, hesitant to speak

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you pleaded, “John, please, talk to me.” Your captain hung his head down and began to talk.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I should have known better. They disrespected you and I—.”

You interrupted him. “John, you didn't make me go there, okay? I wanted to be there. Besides, you weren't the one who disrespected me. If anything you defended me and made sure I was okay.” You cradled his face. “So stop blaming yourself for the actions of others, okay?” John grunted in agreement, eyes looking down.

“John,” you warned. He looked you in your eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbled out. You laughed at his boyish antics.

In no time, you both reached your rooms that were side by side. Once inside, John Price would no longer be your fiancé. Before you entered your room, you called out to him one last time.

“I just want you to know that I meant every word today. You really are the greatest man I know,” you said with a smile. You wanted to say more, tell him everything, but you knew you couldn’t. This would have to do. With that, you wished him a goodnight and slipped inside.

— — —

John walked in his room with a heavy heart.

Despite your praise, John didn’t consider himself a good man. A good man doesn’t pine after another man’s woman. Ghost truly was a lucky man. John just had to make do with having you so close but so far.

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist

Author’s Notes: First ever COD fanfic! Woot woot! I hope y'all enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts! Imma be honest, everything I know about COD has been aquired through fanfic so if anything is wrong, oops. Also if this has been done before, please let me know as I genuinely didn't know.

Also super sorry for the lack of British/ Scottish accent in the characters. Literally have no clue on how to do it!

I'm still a pretty novice writer so advice and suggestions are always appreciated. I plan on writing more COD fics so if you're interested stick around.

[hahaifolded]

I feel seen