#tf 141 headcanons

[autumnheartsprice]

MY DREAM

I've been thinking abt a poly!tf141 with a fem!reader who like is from the country side AND I'M CRACKING, OH LAWD!!!

Task Force 141 had seen you kill a man from 700 meters away. They had seen you tear through enemy lines with the precision of a seasoned warrior, your movements deadly and efficient. But what they hadn't seen—what they couldn’t wrap their heads around—was the life you returned to after every mission.

Because while Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz spent their leave in safe houses, military bases, or the occasional urban apartment, you?

You went home.

To the countryside.

To your massive, luxurious farmhouse nestled in the hills of a quiet village, where the air smelled of fresh hay, wildflowers, and the occasional whiff of cow.

And when TF141 finally visited, they were not prepared.

The First Time They Saw the Farm : "What the fuck—" Ghost had been the first to say it when you pulled up to your estate in an old pickup truck, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as you parked in front of a sprawling wooden house with a red-tiled roof.

There were animals everywhere.

A massive black and white cow lazily chewed its cud near the wooden fence. Chickens and roosters strutted about like they owned the place. A gray donkey stared at them with judgmental eyes. Two ducks waddled past as if they were on a mission. Dogs barked excitedly at the sight of you, tails wagging. A cat lounged on the porch, stretching in the warm sun.

And then—a fucking horse trotted up to you, nuzzling into your palm like a puppy.

"Price," Gaz whispered. "She has a fucking farm."

"A fancy one at that," Soap muttered, still stunned.

"You lot gonna stand there all day?" You grinned, tossing your duffel bag over your shoulder. "Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready."

They were bewildered. They had spent years with you, fighting side by side, seeing you covered in blood, sweat, and gunpowder—and now you were leading them up the front porch of your cozy countryside mansion like a perfect little housewife.

And the worst part? They liked it.

You, The Deadly Soldier and The Perfect Housewife

Soap had expected you to relax on your leave. Maybe sleep in, drink some tea, read a book.

But no.

You were up at the crack of dawn, slipping out of bed before any of them could pull you back in, dressed in overalls and a white tank top, heading out to feed the animals like it was just another mission.

"Morning, sweetheart," Price murmured, leaning against the doorway as he watched you toss hay to the horses.

"Morning, Captain," you teased, kissing his scruffy cheek before moving on to collect eggs from the hens.

Ghost watched in silence, arms crossed, as you scolded a particularly feisty rooster. "You peck me one more time, and I swear to God, I’m making soup outta you."

Gaz almost choked on his coffee when you turned around and gave them the sweetest, most innocent smile.

"You boys want breakfast?"

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at a massive wooden table in your warm, sunlit kitchen, eating fresh farm eggs, homemade bread, and smoked bacon.

And Soap was ready to propose.

Domesticity With a Side of Chaos

Price: Loves sitting on the porch with a cigar, watching you work. He helps with repairs, fixes fences, and absolutely adores the peacefulness of your home.

Ghost: The animals are terrified of him at first (except the donkey—the donkey hates him). But the barn cats adopt him, curling up in his lap whenever he sits down.

Soap: Thinks farm life is the best thing ever. He learns how to milk a cow, names every single chicken, and gets way too attached to a piglet.

Gaz: "Babe, I love you, but this rooster is evil." (He got chased one too many times.)

And at night?

After a long day of farm work, you slip into something soft and lacy, curl up in their arms, and remind them that you’re not just a soldier, not just a farmer—you’re theirs.

They Never Want to Leave

By the end of their stay, not a single one of them wants to go back.

"You sure we have to leave?" Soap pouts, feeding the ducks.

"Darlin’," Price murmurs against your neck one night, arms wrapped around you in bed, "Ever thought about retirin’ here? With us?"

Ghost doesn’t say it out loud, but when he watches you laugh, your hands covered in flour as you bake bread, he knows he never wants to be anywhere else.

And Gaz?

He just sighs, watching the sunset over the hills. "I never thought I’d say this, but…I think I’m in love with farm life."

They were all in love. With you. With this. With the life they could have, if only they stayed.

Maybe one day.

For now, they’d enjoy every stolen moment in their countsyde paradise. But what if we make thing spicy ? A little bit, at least.

Ghost Was The First To Break

Ghost had held strong. Longer than the others.

While Soap got weak-kneed watching you bend over to pick up hay, and while Gaz couldn’t stop staring at your thighs in those tiny denim shorts, Ghost had kept his cool.

Until that damn sundress.

White. Light. Flowy. Just enough fabric to tempt, but never satisfy—clinging to your curves, slipping off your shoulders as you carried a bucket of water to the horses.

He had been cleaning his rifle on the porch, but his grip tightened the moment he saw the fabric sway with your every step.

And then?

You had the audacity to look over your shoulder and wink at him.

He dropped the rifle.

Soap Lost It In The Barn

Soap had always been shameless about his attraction to you.

But you?

You were even worse.

It was an accident—(was it?)—when you walked into the barn one night, looking for something. The others were inside, drinking whiskey in the house, but Soap had been alone, brushing down one of your horses.

And then he saw you.

Wet.

Covered in rain.

Your thin white blouse clung to you, completely see-through, nipples pebbled against the fabric.

"Lass," he had rasped, watching as you closed the barn door behind you, stepping forward, voice all honeyed and sweet.

"Johnny," you had purred, voice dripping with something that wasn’t innocence, "I’m cold."

He snapped.

The horse had seen things that night.

Price Was The Most Dangerous

Price was a man of control.

A man of restraint.

A man who knew how to bide his time.

But you?

You tested him.

You liked to push. You liked to see how far you could go before he gave in.

And God help you—you found his limit.

It was late. The others were asleep. You were making tea in the kitchen, standing on your tiptoes to reach a mug from the top shelf.

Price had walked in just as your nightgown slipped up your thighs.

It wasn’t fair.

The soft, white cotton. The little lace trim. The way your bare legs looked so smooth, so inviting—and the sleepy way you turned, so unaware of what you were doing to him.

You looked up at him, mug in hand, and smiled. "You want some tea, Cap?"

And then—his hands were on your hips.

Voice rough.

"You know damn well what I want, sweetheart."

Gaz Had It The Worst

Gaz?

Gaz was a goner the first time he saw you in nothing but boots and his shirt.

You had come in from the field soaked in sweat, hair messy, thighs speckled with dirt. You had tossed your muddy clothes into the laundry room, grabbed his green tactical shirt, and walked around the house like it wasn’t driving him insane.

"Babe," he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, watching you stretch, the hem of his shirt riding up to dangerous levels.

You blinked. All innocent. "What’s wrong?"

Gaz was a patient man. A respectful man. A man who was about to lose his goddamn mind.

"Come here."

You smirked, walking over slowly, pressing your hands to his chest.

"You’re so easy to rile up," you giggled.

His hand wrapped around your throat.

"And you’re about to learn what happens when you push too far."

[thatoneautisticshark]

Okay, okay, but consider: Ghost who cannot for the life of him figure out how to show his appreciation for the team like a normal person and the rookies are all weirded out by some of the shit he does for Price, Gaz, and Soap (memorizing oddly specific stuff about them like a stalker, giving them gifts that feel weird as hell like teeth and bullet casings, lurking behind them like a cryptid, etc.) and the boys are just like "Oh no this is fine. Sweet, even. Ghost is the sweetest, just awkward." and there's just this brick wall of a man watching them through the corner of his eye in the distance.

Idk if you can see the vision or if I'm just delusional but I figured I'd throw it out there <3

Yup. Yes absolutely. This is him.

The gifts he gives seem so out there and weird. But they are actually the sweetest and well thought through.

He gives Johnny rocks and the most random things like gum wrappers, and all the rookies wonder how terrified of ghost Johnny is to accept that.

But in reality Johnny collects rocks, and he likes gluing things like shiny gum wrappers in one of his scrap books.

He straight up gives Kyle bullets, like a tonne of different bullets, and everyone assumes it's a threat.

But Simon just knows Kyle is really interested in different guns and bullets, and collects them, so whenever he gets a chance he nicks bullets that Kyle doesn't have.

Price he gives cigars, and the rookies assume it's bribary.

It is bribary.

He also gives all of them can tabs, which the rookies question why the fuck can tabs, like he is so weird. But they all have a silly little trading deal of a can tab for a kiss, and Simon collects every single can tab he can to give them.

He is apparently really weird because he will just headbut people or rest his head on theirs and the rookies say it's sooo unsettling.

Meanwhile The team always feels so lucky. Because Simon is weird about touch, he often isn't up to too much touch, but he'll do that, resting on them, totally trusting them and having touch without to much.

Soap also love headbuts people.

I love silly guy ghost. Absolutely brilliant idea

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiiii love your work <3

Was having a bad day so I was wondering if u could write a headcanon about Simon or any of the 141 comforting you because college is difficult 🙇🏾‍♀️

If you don’t feel like it or don’t wanna write about this prompt, no worries <3 hope u have a great day :)

Hello! I can absolutely do a few headcanons about this!

@/desert-fern also requested this so I’m going to combine yours with theirs. I’ll also be covering all the 141 in this! Thanks for sending it in!!

written w/ gn!reader

John Price

Incredibly supportive but keeps a respectful distance.

Does not have your schedule save in his phone but he has it memorized.

He knows not to bother you during class (or lab or technical, etc.) and keeps to the promise until you’re available again.

He won’t force you to take breaks, but he will heavily suggest that you do until it become an annoying pestering that you can’t ignore.

If the two of you are married, John is happy to carry the financial load as well as pick up some of the domestic labor if it alleviates stress.

If you’re working on your PhD, John will insist on introducing you as “Doctor” to everyone.

If you’re going to school for something more hands on, John is happy to be your guinea pig. Need to practice a blood draw for nursing school? John will offer his arm with zero hesitation.

If college is starting to feel incredibly overwhelming and like you can’t handle it, he’s the reassuring voice that calms you down and emphasizes how important this journey means to you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Has your schedule saved in his phone.

Goes out of his way to bring you breakfast and coffee (or matcha or chai) in the morning because he understands the importance of starting the day with a fueled body.

If you’re someone who is sometimes disorganized, Kyle doesn’t mind dropping in a reminder about when you need to go to class or when something needs to be completed.

Will hold you accountable if you think you need someone else to keep you committed.

Doesn’t care if he has to rearrange plans last minute or cancel plans entirely if you have a last-minute assignment or exam to study for.

Forces you to take breaks and will physically remove you from what you’re working on if you don’t.

If everything feels a bit too overwhelming, Kyle is right there with a warm embrace and comforting words to help soothe the stress and anxiety.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Supportive but is a bit hopeless about how to help you.

Doesn’t have your schedule in his phone and doesn’t have your schedule memorized.

Absolutely calls and texts during class/lab/clinicals/etc. because he knows you’ll see it eventually. You’ve had to put your phone on Do Not Disturb because it’s nearly nonstop.

Never tells you to take a break because he’s so used to just pushing through stress that he doesn’t always recognize it in you.

Confuses bachelors, masters, and doctorate, but absolutely knows what you’re majoring in. Same goes for technical school.

Will take up the financial burden if married. Won’t even blink or bat an eye over it.

Absolutely treats you to gifts, dinner, or something special after a test, exam, or practical. He enjoys celebrating each accomplishment.

When it comes to feeling overwhelmed, Johnny doesn’t see the breakdown coming. One moment you’re fine, and the next you’re not. At first, he’s surprised, and not sure how to help.

If anything, Johnny is reassuring and gentle with you if you’re struggling with the responsibility that comes with college life. Lots of hugging and affirmations.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Has your schedule memorized and has it in his phone. Simon knows where you are at all times.

Completely supportive of your desire for pursuing higher education or even a technical trade. He joined the military as soon as he could and never had the opportunity to try out either.

Whether you’re dating or married, Simon is covering the financial cost of life while you take care of business. Now, he’s not paying for your schooling (unless married), but he’s covering the mortgage/rent, groceries, and everything else so that you can completely focus on getting your degree or certification.

While he’s not always one to give compliments, he does brag endlessly at work about you and how proud he is.

Absolutely forces you to take breaks while studying. If he’s not there, or away because of work, bet on the fact that he’s texting or calling or something to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

Sometimes he’s blunt or overly honest, and when you complain about stress or feeling overwhelmed, he might offer you a suggestion about how to manage it instead of simply listening.

When he’s off work, he will insist on driving you to and from campus.

If things prove too much, and you breakdown over the stress, Simon will completely shift gears. If all you need is to be held, he’ll hold you, and if you need to talk, he’ll listen. After the tears have dried, Simon will do his best to cheer you up, having an evening with just the two of you.

main masterlist

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Home Sweet Home

Pairing: John Price x Stay-at-Home Wife!Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff, domestic softness, Price being a loving and affectionate husband, you being adorably flustered, suggestive touches, and playful teasing.

Author's Note: Need to write more for our fave Captain honestly (definitely not procrastinating on doing my homework)

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

John Price had been counting down the hours, the minutes, the damn seconds until he could come home to you. The weight of the day clung to him, the usual exhaustion from work settling deep in his muscles, but he knew the moment he walked through that door, all of it would melt away.

And he was right.

The moment he stepped into the house, warmth wrapped around him—not just from the lingering heat of the day, but from the scent of home. Rich, savory aromas filled the air, and he could hear the faint sound of music playing from the kitchen, a soft hum accompanying it.

Then he saw you.

You were at the stove, completely in your element, swaying slightly as you stirred whatever was simmering in the pot. One of his sweatshirts hung off your frame, oversized and cozy, slipping just enough off one shoulder to tease a sliver of bare skin. Your hair was slightly tousled, loose strands framing your face, and you had that peaceful look of someone utterly content in their world.

John smiled to himself, leaning against the doorway for a moment, just watching.

Christ, he could stand there all night.

But he didn’t.

“Now that’s a sight worth coming home to,” he drawled, voice rough with warmth.

You jumped slightly, turning quickly, and the way your face lit up made his chest tighten.

“John!”

Before he could say another word, you were moving, abandoning the spoon and rushing toward him.

He barely had time to brace himself before you threw yourself into his arms, your warmth sinking into him as he wrapped you up tight. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” he murmured against your temple.

You let out a happy sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Missed you too. Feels like you’ve been gone forever.”

He hummed, pressing slow, lingering kisses into your hair, your cheek, the corner of your lips. “Would’ve come home sooner if I could.”

His voice was thick, the truth of it settling between you.

You cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the stubble lining his jaw. “You’re home now,” you whispered, eyes filled with nothing but love.

John exhaled, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Home.”

Then he kissed you.

It started slow, a soft press of lips, but when you sighed against him, he deepened it, wrapping his arms around you fully. His lips were warm, slightly chapped from the cold, but the way they moved against yours—firm, assured, completely devoted—sent warmth curling through your veins.

His hands slid down your back, gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him, sighing against your lips like he’d been starving for this all damn day.

You tangled your fingers in the short curls at the nape of his neck, losing yourself in the steady, intoxicating heat of him.

Then—

“Oh, shit—John���”

You suddenly stiffened in his arms, hands flying to his chest as you pulled back in alarm.

“What?” he murmured, lips chasing yours again.

“The food—oh my God, John, the food’s gonna burn!”

You tried to twist in his arms, frantic, but he only tightened his grip with a deep, amused chuckle.

“John!” you gasped, squealing when he effortlessly scooped you up, lifting you off your feet.

“Let it burn,” he teased, grinning against your neck as he carried you a few steps away from the stove.

“You are ridiculous!” You smacked his shoulder lightly, squirming, but he only held you tighter, the warmth of his chest against yours making your face heat.

“C’mon now, love,” he murmured, lowering his voice as he pressed a slow kiss beneath your ear. “Been thinkin’ about this all day.”

Your breath hitched slightly, his beard scratching against your skin. “John Price, put me down before I—”

A loud *sizzle* made you both freeze.

You gasped dramatically. “John, I swear—”

He finally relented, laughing as he set you back on your feet, but he didn’t let go completely. His hands settled on your hips as you frantically rushed to the stove, grabbing the spoon and stirring the sauce, muttering under your breath about men and their lack of priorities.

John just smirked, arms looping around your waist from behind as he pressed himself against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You sighed dramatically. “You act like you haven’t seen me in months.”

He let out a hum, nosing against the curve of your jaw. “Feels like it.”

Your face warmed as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck, his beard rough but his lips so, so soft. You fought back a shiver, trying to focus on the food, but the way he was holding you, warm and solid, made it impossible.

“You’re a menace,” you mumbled, exhaling as you stirred the sauce.

He chuckled, hands squeezing your hips. “And you love me for it.”

You huffed. “Debatable.”

He grinned, lips brushing against your ear. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.”

You let out a small, helpless laugh, leaning back into him. “Yeah, yeah. Now go wash up—dinner’s almost done.”

Instead of moving, he only tightened his hold.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, but the fond smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

He sighed happily, nuzzling into your neck, letting the warmth of home, of you, settle deep into his bones.

Dinner could wait just a little longer.

Hope you enjoyed it! Please consider liking and posting! –Midnight💜 

[machveil]

I think it’d be incredibly funny if the 141 went to KorTac’s favorite bar, but because they’re off the clock they (KorTac) aren’t wearing their full masks so the 141 doesn’t recognize them

Nikto and König are still somewhat hidden behind medical masks, and König has a cap on, but Krueger and Horangi are fully out there

and the 141 is none the wiser while the KorTac boys are all staring them down like, “What the fuck are they doing here—”, and Johnny is eyeing them up like, “Bet I could bag the big one.”

[spiderlilliess1]

Ghost & Soap had gotten into an argument and both of them being stubborn grown men refused to speak to each other for months, if they were on a mission they’d even risk one of them dying why? Just because the didn’t wanna talk they were still pissed.

So Price eventually finding out why his two members who are always usually touching each other and flirting finally stop and don’t even speak a word to each other’s face. So Price comes up with a great idea, telling Soap he needs him in his office pronto, then texting ghost saying that he’s needed for an ‘important mission’ and was to meet price in his office.

Price watched from afar Ghost walking into the office first he was always on time, a few moments later Soap went in, Price swiftly moved over to the office door and locked it shut. Sealing them in there together.

At first Price heard nothing, then a whole lot of arguing, but after the arguing? He just heard a lot of thumps and groans, either they were fighting or..

Price just shook his head letting out a raspy chuckle and walking away, he wanted his soldiers to re connect and this is the best way.

I FORGOT TO ADD THE TAGS

[raspberryandechinacea]

So, i got this silly thought about our beloved task force 141 when i woke up and it's still wandering in my brain and i have to share it; it's also based on real life events.

So, since they have to use radios on their deployments i can imagine them off duty wanting to say something and their hands going for the button of their portable radios and then realizing it's not there.

[callmecoke]

Sugar Baby headcanons: The type of 'Photos' they enjoy

cw: Mention of sex work (sugar baby/daddy dynamic), Sharing nudes, Poly 141 x gender neutral reader. description of fondling, masterbation, dom and sub similiar dynamic, vague allusion to spanking, teasing, Very NSFW!

After you sent them the first photo, you opened a whole new door to financial opportunities. Sure, you could normally send just about any regular photo and get a perfectly good amount of money (and praise). However, sexy pictures of you seemed to double the amount you’d normally get. So, of course, you’d capitalise on that, especially with the men who have been incredibly generous to you. Over time, you’ve even learnt how the individual boys like their photos and thus can cater when needed.

Gaz absolutely LOVES seeing you oiled up and naked for him. Especially when he gets to see those ass cheeks of yours. He loves how the body oil makes your skin glow vibrantly, how the light reflects off your skin, and how wetness defines every crevice and little detail on your body. He’s constantly talking about how much he wants to touch you, how he’d rub the oil over your uncovered breasts, groping and pulling at every bit of flesh you’d let him touch. How he’d pull your ass cheeks apart and let his skilled and defined fingers rub over your swollen and begging hole. God, he wished he could touch you.

Prices will pay for just about any small item you might want if you tell him you want it. Do you plan on going for a little shopping spree? Here’s 500 hundred, and an extra 50 for the lunch. He wouldn’t want you to starve and tire yourself out with all that walking. There is a bit of a catch, though. Anything you buy, you have to send him pictures of. And sure, he loves the normal sfw pictures you send. But nothing gets him harder than receiving a little picture of you clad in the new lacy undergarments you bought with his well-earned money. How you shyly present yourself to the camera, expensive fabric adorning your pretty flushed skin. The little twinkle in your big round eyes, silently seeking his approval. And oh, does he approve. He approves so much that he’ll describe in detail how he’d have that nice underwear dangling from your ankle as he bent you over his knee.

With Johnny, well, Johnny is an appreciator of just about any flash of skin you’d let him put his eyes on. Chest, ass, thighs, half-naked, fully naked, an inch of exposed ankle, doesn’t matter. He’ll take it, and he’ll be grateful for it. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it when you make him beg for his prize. You like to play little teasing games with him, sending him photos of you with your hands on the hem of your shirt, gently pulling it up. Enough to show your midriff, but never enough to entirely pull over your head and reveal the delicate beauty of your bare chest. With this one photo, you’d have him drooling like a dog and begging like one too. He’d try and bargain, offering up just about anything to get you to take the shirt off and show him your perky nipples. And I mean anything. You want money? He’s got money. You can take as much as you want, all of it even. He’ll beg if you want to if you’re into making a grown man paw at your feet. Whatever you want, you can have; just please, please, put the poor man out of his misery and let him get a peek of those gorgeous tits. 

Now, Simon, he’s a little trickier to figure out. He rarely makes comments or sends you messages, only using single-word responses on rare occasions. It’s challenging to get a read on him. So, instead of guessing what he wanted, you decided to just…ask. You quickly realised that having you utterly subservient to his demands was his biggest turn-on. He’d give you specific instructions detailing exactly how he wants you. Legs spread, sitting up on your bed, no clothing ‘cept for underwear (Of HIS choosing. Something thin and sluty, where he can see the whole fullness of your weeping sex behind the small fabric). He wants you to arch your back; show it to him, luv. He wants your hand on your pretty aching arousal, playing with yourself for his entertainment like his good little pet. You find he's a lot more talkative when you let him order you around like this. He’s more than happy to reward obedience, especially with such a good, obedient pet like yourself.

[ghouljams]

what sort of body hair & body types do you think the 141 boys have

So glad you asked:

Starting with pretty boy Gaz, He's absolutely got the gym body. You know the one with the perfectly sculpted muscles, tugging his shorts up to show off the flex of his thighs for the camera as he grins, rolling his shoulders back to show off the lats, flexing for the camera. He's more lean muscle than huge body builder vibes, like it's definitely tailored to his body type, but it's that instagram influencer perfect physique. He's got a well groomed smattering of hair. Not a ton on his chest but plenty of people are eyeing that neat happy trail as he does chest presses at the gym. Lemme get a peak at that man in the sauna...

Soap is a big lad, but it's all muscle. He definitely is going for more of the body builder physique. Packs on muscle really well, and tries to manage his macros so that he keeps his abs when he wants them. The man is stacked. He's also hairy. He's the motherfucker that you're hoping to death wipes off the gym equipment because you can see him sweating through that pelt he's got. Good dark hair on his arms and legs, and chest hair you just wanna bury your face in. You're not even into that stuff but when he raises his arms to grab the lat tower bar you kinda wanna run your tongue through his underarm hair. You just know that man doesn't even trim his pubic area...

Ghost is just naturally big, but he also packs on muscle like a motherfucker. Ghost has a solid strongman look, like he definitely works out, and you've seen him bench 400 lbs without breaking a sweat, but he also looks like he never turns down a slice of cake. Olympic dead lifter type. You could watch him run on the treadmill for hours with the way his pecs bounce. Doesn't look hairy because he's blond, so it's very light wispy hair, but he's got a nice map of curls at the base of his dick that just make you wanna suck him off. Always lets his towel sit too low in the sauna, when you die, you wanna come back as the sweat dripping between his tits.

Price... You wanna talk about a man that pass up a decent meal it's Price. That doesn't mean he isn't in the gym with his men, it just means he's the one in the mess at midnight grabbing that last cookie before bed. He's good at shedding the weight though. You see him before a mission and he's trimmed up, but once he's home he's a bear of a man. That goes for the hair too. That man is so fucking hairy. Thick dark hair all over his body, to the point where you're not sure he isn't a werewolf or something. You actually checked the lunar cycle once when he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt in the gym, and you saw the thick hair trailing down the center line of his stomach. (What a man, what a man, what a man)

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

this is part one || part two || part three || part four || part five

Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who always kept such a stoic, emotionless facade, couldn't help but feel drawn in when he walked past your house.

Your windows were wide open, so the loud music crept out into the street as you danced around the kitchen, belting out lyrics along to the song. Simon paused as he noticed, a huff of laughter escaping from him as a smile crept over his masked face.

Stepping forward slightly, the Lieutenant craned his neck to peer through the window, his eyebrows furrowing with amusement as you jig around to the song, your singing muffled as you bend down to put a tray in the oven.

"Not too bad," Simon mutters to himself, referring to your singing. After a moment, he snaps out of his intrigued gaze, realising how creepy he probably looked, also realising, despite these unfamiliar feelings, how different he was to this person he'd never even spoken too, like a slab of concreate being best friends with a rainbow.

He carries on walking, shaking his head as if to shake the 'sense' back into himself, however he just couldn't get rid of that slightly fluttery feeling in the base of his belly. Ghost was used to being able to walk through life not feeling anything for anyone, partly because of his rough childhood and mostly because of the mannerisms gained from his line of work. Yeah, you hadn't had a great experience growing up either, but you were so open. Simon almost found it... refreshing?

Even at work he couldn't get rid of that lingering feeling. In the mess room, it was obvious. Simon was always... grumpy, to say the least, but today he wasn't even getting angry at MacTavish when he was being annoying, which was a clear indicator something was off.

Soap stops messing around, his grin shrinking to some degree. "Alright, LT?" he inquires, tilting his head slightly. Ghost grunts, scowling through his mask. Gaz looks over, nodding in agreement at Johnny. "Yeah, to be fair you seem off Simon."

Simon turns to Soap, then Kyle, his eyes dark. "Stop fucking pestering." He says bluntly, voice deep and gravelly.

Later, (in the pub, obviously) Simon was still quiet, sulking over his drink.

"I say we buy him some more booze and get him to spill," Soap whispers to Kyle, eyebrows raised smugly like some evil genius devising a master plan. "Yeah he's being weird." Garrick responds a little to loudly, and Ghost's neck pretty much snaps round. He looks the two up and down before returning to his drink. "Aye the blokes very crabbit." MacTavish mutters, rolling his eyes.

After Kyle and John had made poor Simon tipsy from countlessly thrusting more and more drinks before him, they started to question him. "Why so silent?" Garrick's eyes flick to Johnnies, as if to ask for approval for the question. Soap grins and nods, watching as Simon slams down down his fists on the table, leaning backwards in his chair.

"There's this girl," He mutters, shaking his head as both Gaz and Soap sit up, leaning in. "A lass, aye?" MacTavish squints, smirking at Simon. "Where'd you meet?"

"We haven't- I mean, I saw her through her window..." Simon grumbles, adjusting his skull mask. "Oh?" Kyle's mouth opens in a confused O shape. "Bit pervy. Maybe talk to her?"

"No... it'd be like a bag of skittles.. and I dunno, a boring old rock shagging." Ghost pouts through the mask, eyebrows contorted slightly.

"So... yer different from each other?" Johnny frowns, evidently bewildered. "I think he went and fell in love with this window lassie," He turns to Gaz, his expression contagious.

"That's the fucking problem!" Yells Simon, his eyes shining with unironic yet comical sadness. He slams his large, gloved hands into his face, tipping back on the chair.

"Show us window girl then," Garrick chuckles, obviously not convinced. The three man stand up, Soap shoving a few notes onto the table and thumping Simon's back gently as they walk out into the dark.

"She lives like..." The lieutenant trails off, pointing randomly around before stomping off down the road. After about 10 minutes of walking, he stops abruptly in front of your small house. The downstairs lights were all on, shining cosily from inside. The three stand there for a moment before Soap nudges Simon. "You gonnae talk to her or not?" Kyle steps back slightly as Ghost groans like some enamoured softy. "Maybe not..." Gaz murmurs.

"Oh you and your sensibleness can fuck right off." Johnny says as he starts to shoves Ghost up the pathway to your house, knocking on the door before darting away and leaving the bewildered man just standing there. Simon registers what's happening as the lock starts to click. It was too late for him to walk away. His breath hitches as you open the door and open your mouth, confused. "Hi?" You say, voice slightly unsure.

His eyes widen and he grins sheepishly, taking in your beauty close up and blinking as he starts to speak. "Hello Miss," You shift around slightly, grip tight on the door. Who the fuck is this guy? You think to yourself, looking the masked figure up and down.

You step backwards slightly as you notice another two men walking up the path, one grinning and the other rather reluctant. The one with strange looking mohawk places a firm hand on the masked mans shoulder and the other one just cowers behind mohawk man.

"My friend Simon here would like your number," Soap smiles, Scottish accent loud in the crisp night air. Simon nods enthusiastically. "You're pretty," He slurs, sticking up his thumb and grinning with his eyes. You nod, trying not to burst out laughing.

"Oh, well... thanks," You smile briefly, leaning backwards into the house to grab a pen. You weren't sure why you were doing this... giving some random man your number, but something had you hooked. Maybe it was the fact you could see how toned and muscly he was, even through his hoodie, or just because of how blatantly bizarre the encounter was. "Here," You tug up masked mans sleave, scribbling your number on the inside of his wrist. "Yay," He mumbles, turning around and tripping down the path, his two buddies in close pursuit.

You can't help but notice him drunkenly punch the air as he stumbles down the path, and as you click the door shut you can't ignore the smile plastered on your face and the flush creeping over your cheeks.

should I make a part 2 ?

sorry for any mistakes I'm tired af again heh... anyway, any reblogs / support is appreciated!! hope you enjoyed !

[ohgeesoap]

TF 141 and how they test your relationship:

Ghost: Bad at apologizing. Will show you he's sorry through actions but won't actually say it out loud. Eventually texts "I'm sorry" or writes it on a sticky note and puts it on the fridge.

Soap: Bad temper. It's not directed at you but it can be a little alarming to watch that switch flip because what the fuck just happened and who is he going to fight?

Gaz: Says things very matter of factly, so it makes you feel like he's leaving no more room for discussion when you still have plenty to say. You have to let him know that you're not done.

Price: Puts his hands up in a calm down gesture when he thinks your emotions are getting the better of you. Instantly sends you over the edge because why does he think that would work on you?

[midnighvtm4ss]

Based on this viral tiktok

Laughter echoed through the barracks as Soap and Gaz had been cracking up all afternoon. It was the day after a heavy mission and the duo decided to relax by making silly tiktok trends, in particular the ‘you ladies alright’ one. The trend had been blowing up on tiktok, making the pair wanting to replicate it around the base.

Gaz was the one knocking and delivering the cheesy line, another soldier threw the ball while Soap filmed the reactions. It was going great—soldiers were either laughing, rolling their eyes, or playing along with them.

They were near the end of the hall when they reached your door. Gaz hesitated for just a split second hand half raised to knock when he recognized the plate numbers of your door. Shaking away his thoughts Gaz knocked. He was all set to say the line, confident as ever, his hands smoothly catching the ball but then his eyes met your figure.

There you were, looking effortlessly beautiful with nothing but some sweatpants and a oversized black tshirt. He never saw you with civvies on and he swore in that moment he fell impossibly harder for you. For the first time in the entire day, Gaz froze. His cool persona slipped away in an instant as his gaze locked onto yours. His heart skipped a beat, a voice far back in his mind screamed at him to just say his line and not stand there like a moron but Gaz couldn’t say it. He just stood there, his mouth slightly open as he looked at you. All the confidence he’d built up throughout the day vanished.

You blinked at him, a mixture of confusion and amusement playing on your face while your cheeks reddened. Your eyes shifted around noticing Soap with his camera pointed at the scene holding back his laughter. And then it hit you, they were doing that viral tiktok trend. You looked back at Gaz awkwardly holding a ball and couldn’t help but let out an embarrassed laugh. His cheeks mirrored yours in redness as he smiled sheepishly murmuring a small ‘you ladies alright?’.

You shook your head, chuckling, greeting Soap before closing the door.

As they walked down the hallway Soap nudged Gaz with a wide grin stretched across his face “Mate, you’re hopeless.” Gaz rolled his eyes at the scot making him swear to delete the video.

Later that night a notification popped up on Gaz’s phone, illuminating his face.

TaskForce 141

“Soap🫧sent a video”

Soap🫧: “Got our loverboy blushing in 4k”

a/n: My first time writing for the Call of Duty fandom I’m scared even though I’ve been in the fandom for years. let’s pretend I know how the military works and they have these silly little moments around base shhh. Also idk if anyone has already done this scenario so sorry in advance!!

[ssscatola]

task force 141 headcanons pt. 2 (+ a bit of ghoap)

Simon has absolutely never lost at arm wrestling

Johnny cannot wait to retire so he can adopt 150 dogs, 70 cats and 36 bunnies (he'd probably get a snake or two and a gecko or turtle as well)

Gaz really likes photography. I know this man has a shelf full of vintage analog cameras. ALSO he definitely has a collection of at least 250 polaroid photos stashed under his bed of his family and friends

Gaz also know so much shit about art and art supplies. Every medium, brand, the name of every color, every paper weight and is a master when it comes to color theory

Price is such . . . a fish guy. He loves fishing. He loves sending pictures to the force's groupchat every time he catches a huge fish and gets an ego boost when the boys reply with "nice catch, cap" along with a thumbs-up emoji from Simon

Speaking of . . . they 100% have a group chat. It's called 'Ghost's Therapists' or 'Price and the Lads' or just 'The Council'. Johnny and Gaz are the ones who spam with pics and videos and memes

Their nicknames in the chat? I'm glad you asked. Johnny: either 'SCOTLAND FOREVER' or 'Soup'. Gaz: 'Gazpacho'. Price: Mutton Chops Final Boss. Simon: Skull Boi (spelling done by Johnny)

Simon and Price prefer vanilla. Gaz and Johnny will always pick chocolate

Gaz goes to sleep by putting on ambient sounds of rain

When at the beach, Johnny and Gaz LOVE tanning. Price goes for a long swim, eats three nectarines and takes a two hour nap on his towel. Simon walks along the shore, drenched in SPF and collects tiny iridescent seashells and gives them to Johnny later

Simon Riley who likes pottery and does it as a hobby when he retires……he makes new plates and mugs for Johnny (let me have this) (i’ll write a separate post about this i have so much to say)

Not really a headcanon but Johnny and Simon at the zoo. or at a botanical garden. or having a picnic (i’m very normal about all of these ideas)

Price is a sleepy drunk. Johnny is horny/aggressive drunk. Simon is sappy drunk but hides it as much as he can. Gaz is everything is hilarious drunk

Simon WORKS a grill

Every single handyman is terrified of Gaz because he just know EVERYTHING about fixing ANYTHING

Price’s favorite fruits are strawberries and peaches. Gaz’s is passion fruit and cherries. Johnny would kill for kiwis and figs and Simon would be on a diet consisting only of oranges and raspberries if he could

ALL of them have a sweet tooth but Price and Simon are the worst

Did I mention Simon not knowing who Shrek is? No? Well, he doesn’t. Johnny remembers this and next time they’re all on a mission together, he starts quoting the dialogue (mimicking the voices, of course) from the “Muffin Man” scene into his comms and Simon is yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Gaz and Price are crying laughing

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello Gloom! If you wouldn’t mind, what are your headcanons about the 141!boys and how they’d be with a partner who has Tourette’s syndrome or tics? Happy holidays ❤️

Hello! I don’t mind at all. Also, the fact that your ask says “Happy Holidays” just goes to show how behind I am on working through my inbox. I’m more than happy to drop a few headcanons on this. I will say, if any of the 141 had a partner with Tourette’s or tics, they’d be completely fine with it, otherwise they wouldn’t be with them to begin with. So, I want to take this time to maybe highlight some specifics for each of the guys.

written w/ gn!reader

John Price

Spends a lot of time learning. He wants to understand how he can support you without expecting you to do the mental and emotional labor of teaching him.

Strongly advocates for you, but only when needed. John won’t overstep his boundaries but will make sure you receive the help you need.

For those days when your tics exhaust you, John designed a room in your home that you can escape to. All you need to do is give a word or a non-verbal sign for when it’s bad, and he understands. No pressure or hard feelings.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Never compares your experience with that of others.

Great about having reflective conversations and helping you work through what your stressors are if you’re struggling with identifying them yourself, but never forces the conversation.

Constant affirmations. Never makes you feel unsupportive. Kyle makes sure you know that you are loved.

Spends every evening massaging any afflicted muscles you might have. You might see it as a big ask but Kyle doesn’t.

Will defend you in any situation. He’s not afraid to call someone out or correct someone who is being rude and/or insensitive to you, especially if it’s acting as a stressor or trigger.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Laughs with you and not at you.

Never mocks or mimics (not that the others would, they absolutely would not.)

Makes sure that you have a calm environment somewhere at home. If the two of you are in public, Johnny goes out of his way to make sure there is a safe space for you to retreat to if you need it.

Doesn’t criticize or try to control your tics. He’s good at ignoring them entirely, and only quietly checks in with you if he notices something unusual or if you appear to be in distress.

Believes in open and clear communication. He always tries to be sensitive and empathic, but he’s also a yapper. (Johnny isn’t always perfect.)

Lots of physical affection as well as verbal affirmations.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

While support is crucial, Simon is also respectful of your boundaries and allows you to manage your own life choices as much as possible. He rarely steps in unless he thinks he needs to.

He doesn’t see you as someone who needs to be “fixed.” Simon has his own experience with people seeing him in that light due to trauma, and he never wants you to feel that way.

Never discusses your tics in public or talks about them with others behind your back.

If the two of you are in public, and someone is staring at you for too long, Simon is quick to stare them down until they become uncomfortable.

main masterlist

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Special Delivery

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, possessive Simon, arguments, annoyance (spouse and nonspouse annoyance)

Author’s Note: Simon forgot some stuff at home, you are a firecracker if anyone has ever seen one so here we are. Inspired by one of my favs @bi-writes and her younger!wife x John Price fic

Masterlist | Bi’s Fanfic

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It starts with a text.

My Ghostie: Forgot my wallet.

Then another.

My Ghostie: And my lunch.

And another.

My Ghostie: ...And the file on my desk.

You stare at your phone, lips pressing into a flat line. Unbelievable. You love your husband, truly, but some days? Some days he tests your patience.

With a sigh, you gather everything—his wallet, his carefully packed lunch, and the stupid file he swore he wouldn’t forget—before grabbing your keys. You could ignore it, let him suffer, but you both know you won’t.

Which is how you find yourself at the base entrance, staring down a soldier who looks entirely unimpressed with your existence. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, like he’s guarding the last bastion of civilization.

“I can’t just let you in, ma’am.” His voice is flat, bored, like this is the most mundane problem he’s dealt with all day.

You, on the other hand, are vibrating with irritation. “Look,” you huff, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder and waving the brown paper lunch bag in your other hand. “I’m not some crazy stalker trying to infiltrate your little clubhouse. My husband, Simon Riley, left his wallet, his lunch, and some other important stuff at home, and I’m just here to drop it off.”

The guard doesn’t budge. “Can’t confirm that without proper clearance.”

Your patience is wearing thin. You exhale sharply, then, with slow, deliberate movements, hold up a very distinct leather wallet between two fingers and shake it slightly. “Alright, genius, let’s use some logic. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, do you think I’d just so happen to have Ghost’s actual shit?”

The man hesitates, clearly uncertain. “That… that could belong to anyone—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, resisting the urge to fling the wallet at him. “If I was trying to sneak onto base, don’t you think I’d pick something a little less obvious?”

You go in for the kill. Flipping open the wallet, you shove it right into his face. “Does that look like just anyone to you?”

The poor bastard leans in, eyes locking onto the ID tucked inside. His face blanches.

It’s right there. Simon’s name. Simon’s face. Your husband’s face.

“…I mean, I still can’t—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, listen here, Private Dumbass.” You shift your stance, letting the overhead lights catch the big-ass rock sitting pretty on your ring finger. You tap it against the metal of the gate for good measure. *Clink, clink.* “See this? This means I can make your life very difficult.”

The man stiffens. You decide to twist the knife. “I may not have rank here, but I am married to a lieutenant. And if you don’t let me through in the next ten seconds, I will personally make it my mission to have you running laps around this base until your legs fall off.”

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “You… you can’t do that.”

You smirk. “You sure about that? ’Cause my husband definitely can.”

That does it. With a sigh, he gestures for another soldier to let you through. “Fine, fine. Go.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, marching past him with your head held high.

Smart man.

——

After waiting at the gate for so long, you storm onto the base with a paper bag in one hand and a duffel slung over your shoulder, exuding confidence as your boots click against the concrete. The guards barely had time to stop you before a sharp-tongued remark had them stepping aside, unsure if they were more intimidated by your presence or impressed by your sheer audacity.

Simon’s dumbass forgot his lunch, his wallet, and a few other essentials, and you’ll be damned if he goes without just because he’s too stubborn to admit he needs you. He might be the terrifying "Ghost" to everyone else, but to you, he’s just your husband—the same man who forgets his keys and leaves his socks all over the damn house.

Walking into the common area is like stepping into a lion’s den—if lions had the audacity to gawk at you like a bunch of wide-eyed recruits seeing their drill sergeant off duty for the first time. A few soldiers are loitering, some cleaning their gear, others playing cards, but the moment they spot you, their focus shifts. You can practically hear their thoughts.

Who the hell is this?

Why does she look like she owns the place?

Did we miss a briefing?

The most unsubtle reaction comes from a particularly cheeky Scot lounging with his feet kicked up on a chair.

“Well, now,” Soap drawls, an impish grin spreading across his face. “And who might you be?”

You don’t bother stopping. “Not in the mood, Braveheart. Where’s Simon?”

Soap lets out a low whistle. “Oi, no need to be feisty, lass. Maybe if ye tell me who ye are, I can help.”

You sigh, shift the duffel on your shoulder, and lift your left hand just enough for the overhead light to catch on the massive wedding ring decorating your finger.

“His wife.”

The room goes silent.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. His mouth opens, closes, then—“No shit.”

“No shit,” you confirm dryly. “And unless you lot want to deal with a grumpy, starving Ghost, you’ll tell me where he is. Now.”

Before anyone can answer, a deep, familiar voice rumbles through the space.

“Don’t need to.”

The effect is instant. The tension in the room shifts as every soldier in the vicinity straightens instinctively.

You turn just as Simon strides in, the mask covering his face doing nothing to hide the sheer command he carries with every step. He looks at you, and even though his expression is unreadable, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

You plant a hand on your hip, tilting your chin up. “Bringing you your shit.” You shove the paper bag into his chest before shrugging the duffel off your shoulder and letting it drop at his feet. “Your lunch. Your wallet. And the file you swore up and down you wouldn’t forget.”

Simon catches everything with practiced ease, his gaze dropping briefly to the items before flicking back to you. “…I would’ve managed.”

You snort. “Yeah? And by ‘managed,’ you mean sulking around all day, hangry as hell, making everyone else suffer for it?”

A muffled snicker comes from Soap. Simon’s head *slowly* turns toward him. The room collectively holds its breath.

Soap lifts his hands innocently. “What? She’s got a point.”

You smirk, smug. “See? Even he agrees with me.”

Simon exhales sharply, a sound you know is the closest thing to a fond sigh. Then, before you can react, he hooks a hand around your waist and tugs you in, pressing your body flush against his. It’s firm, grounding, and entirely possessive. His fingers spread wide over the small of your back, holding you there like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You shouldn’t’ve come all this way,” he mutters, voice softer now.

“You love when I show up unannounced.”

His grip tightens slightly. You know you’ve won. His hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer if that was possible. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you in a sense. You tilt your head up at him, grinning. “Besides, I know you missed me.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he rumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“And you’re lucky I love your grumpy ass.” You grin up at him, reaching up to brush your fingers over the side of his mask. “Eat your lunch, alright? I made sure it’s still warm.”

A long beat passes before Simon finally responds.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

Soap mutters something under his breath, and Simon growls, “MacTavish, if you don’t shut it—”

But before he can finish, you press a quick kiss to his mask-covered cheek. His grip tightens slightly, and you catch the subtle shift in his stance. Oh yeah, he missed you.

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, stepping back with a playful salute. “Try not to forget anything else next time, yeah?”

Simon grunts, his version of a reluctant thank you. But as you turn to leave, you hear him mutter, “Get home safe, love.”

As you turn to leave, you call to your husband, “Oh, by the way—told the guy at the gate he’s gotta run laps for giving me a hard time. Make sure he actually does it, yeah?”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder before strutting out, leaving a room full of stunned soldiers—and one very flustered Ghost—behind.

You don’t stay to hear the response, but you do catch the sound of Soap absolutely losing it as you step out the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[connorsui]

Ghost: You have to change jobs

MC: ...I am not changing jobs?

Ghost: And why not?

MC: Why not? ..the tips are great?

Ghost: ...Become a stripper the tips will be better

MC: how will becoming a stripper be better?!

Ghost: I'll be your only client ...the pole would be in my room

MC: ...

.......be serious?

Ghost: I am being serious ill thrown in great insurance