#tf141 hcs

[gremlinmodetweeker]

TF 141 and their Morning Drink Preferences

TF 141 Dump

TF 141 Headcanons

Ghost:

Obvious tea drinker

Or is it that obvious?

Painfully British of the whole lot of them

Will only drink black teas, absolutely despises herbal, green or rooibos teas

Of the black teas avoids anything floral because he thinks it’s a bit too frilly for his palette

Never adds sugar to teas, says it ruins the flavor

Will add milk to help cool a tea, but only just slightly

Claims drinking a freshly made cup of tea on a hot summer day helps cool him down

How this works is beyond me, but he claims it anyways

Thinks adding cream is a vile concept and anyone who does so should be interrogated by the CIA

Soap

He’ll drink a cup of tea with Ghost, but he’s really more of a coffee person

Prefers medium roast with a heavy serving of cream

He can’t stand adding milk, but will use it if there’s nothing else

Adds sugar when he gets a chance

Despises sweeteners and will make little digs at anyone who does use sweetener, usually citing health reasons

Don’t try arguing that adding two spoons of sugar is just as bad, he won’t hear it

As for tea he prefers rooibos, which drives Ghost up the wall

Is down for anything, really

Gaz

Doesn’t like hot beverages

Prefers either a cool glass of water or juice

Does not understand caffeine addiction whatsoever

Claims the drinks are healthier and more refreshing

People just think he’s incredibly dehydrated in the morning

Will take orange juice from concentrate without batting an eye, but really enjoys more exotic juices if he can get his hands on them

When stationed in foreign countries he’ll try juices made from native fruits

Really likes cactus and mango juice, but is not opposed to papaya

Dislikes southern lemonade with a passion, claims it’s far too sweet

Is surprisingly peppy in the morning despite only drinking juice

Roach

Whatever’s there will work

However, he tends to prefer teas

He’s especially fond of green teas

He goes on about how healthy they are for the mind and body

Also will go on about how easy they are to transport and keeps a small sachet of matcha powder (the cheap stuff) on him to prove his point

He thinks Ghost is a snob and should just get over himself

Has tried to sway the others, but they all tell him matcha tastes like grass

He thinks they’re all idiots

Price

Coffee only

Does not fuss over his coffee whatsoever

Whatever’s in the canteen will do

His one gripe is adding cream or sugar

He will only take his coffee black

Some have tried to win him over with coffees made with cream/milk/sugar, and he’ll be polite enough to drink them and thank them, but he really doesn’t like it too much

He will tell them to not fuss too much if they get him another coffee so they don’t do it again

Cannot stand people whining about how they take their coffee and how the military doesn’t give out the good stuff

He just considers them weak whiners

This includes Ghost when he complains about not having enough black tea in the canteen

Price glad to say it to his face

He could not care less about age or temperature

He’ll pull a day-old cup straight out of the fridge and down it like there’s no tomorrow

Art from This Post

[sgt-tombstone]

hc that Simon always talks a little too loud without his mask because he spent so long with the fabric slightly muffling his already-deep voice and he had to compensate by forcing his words to be that much louder

when he starts taking his mask off around the 141, he notices all of them* wince a little at his volume and he has to make a conscious effort to relearn volume control

*all of them except Johnny, he actually loves how loud Simon is because his hearing is permanently fucked from demolitions so Simon is pretty much the only person he can hear clearly

[itsoutrageouss]

Part five of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley seeing reader cry for the first time; this one made me fucking giddy. This time it’s Simon being soft and vulnerable with you for the first time after a mission…

It’s been three days since you’ve seen him. Simon went on a solo mission and you swear you’ve never felt time go by so slowly, feeling so sluggish with each passing hour. When he volunteered for it, you had to bite your tongue to stop from protesting. You had absolutely zero entitlement to say anything, and even less arguments for why he shouldn’t be the one to do it when he was the most capable.

The day before was when he had drawn you that bath for your pain, respectfully looked away as you undressed, his ears perking at the sound of each soft thud of clothes to the floor, the water singing as you lowered yourself into it. His hands were digging into his thighs in his pockets.

It was a foamy bath because he’d found one of your products that smelled nice. You had your back to him and beckoned him to turn around. He had stared at you and felt his hands shake as he ran a cloth over the expanse of frail skin.

Then the very next day he was gone like he’d never been there at all. You even - to your own deep, mortifying embarrassment - snuck into his barracks and stole a t-shirt. Because you had none left yourself and he didn’t exactly need them right now, you tell anyone if they made notice.

Then on the fourth night, you felt like you were going insane. Because what if that was it? What if he never came back and you only ever got so close to whatever had started blooming between you as a knuckle kiss? The thought that he might never know how much space he had made for himself inside of your head was one you had to force out of your mind as you sat with the others in the rec room. It was a quiet Friday. You had an untouched beer in front of you.

Then the door was pushed open somewhere and you stood up in a heartbeat because for some reason that you didn’t have time to analyse, you recognised his footsteps. You ran.

Then you stopped as you saw him, nearly fallling over your own feet. He looked dangerous at first, chest expanded and heaving heavily. There was a dark crimson staining parts of his clothes and mask and it was dripping to the floor. He looked like a wounded lion and you were simultaneously frightened and so so relieved.

He was scowling the same way he had found himself doing the last four days, a dark veil, a black lens over his eyes. Then he saw you.

You in his shirt and a pair of sweatpants, hair tucked away, eyes a little too tired.

He fell to his knees.

A heartbeat passed, flinching at the movement before you were right there with him. His hands were slightly painful where they grabbed your waist, your hips and your shoulders, clawing and pawing to make sure you were real and here and that everything was okay. He made a sound like a groan and a whine as his head awkwardly bumped into you when he tried to nuzzle your neck and inhale. You couldn’t move, eyes wide at the way he was basically just falling apart for you, acting like some needy cat.

“You’re hurt,” you insist.

“You’re here,” he responds.

It’s like something bursts inside him. He had almost died out there and when all he found himself worrying about was who might help you with your cramps now, he knew he was fucking done for.

“M’ here Simon” you confirm softly, trying to cradle his jaw to make him look at you, but he didn’t budge from where he had somehow managed to press his face into the delicate skin of your neck.

His hands kept you under lock and it started to burn in your muscles from the position you were in, but you didn’t make a single sound, not even as you felt his shoulders tremble slightly, chest hiccuping.

“You okay, lovie?” He asks after a solid five minutes of maybe crying into your neck a little.

You almost laugh, choking on a little sound of amusement as your eyes crinkle. But you hid it well enough. He was asking if you were okay? You?

“I am now. Are you?” You pulled your head back slightly to look down, hoping he’d reveal himself from the shadows. Slowly he peeled himself away, gear shading his face. There were streaks from his eyes in that black, dried war pant that revealed slivers of his pale skin, his lashes sticking together. He just looked at you for a long moment.

“No.” He confessed, sounding like it took all his reserves of strength to admit to such a thing and he looked ready enough to bolt now that he’d finally said it. You only nodded in understanding, wary of how to treat him now, how to do this right.

You stood up and he clawed at your legs, his brute strength making you stumble. “I’m just gonna draw you a bath. Come.”

It took him a while before he wordlessly got up and slumped after you. You went into your own room, and he didn’t comment on it. Not even as he sat down on the little stool and watched you pour one of your good smelling soaps into the tub as the water streamed, creating a white noise that filled the mutual comfortable silence you had created.

“Are you hurt?”

“A little” he said, once again wincing at his own admission of vulnerability. You slowly walked over until you stood in between his legs, looking down at him with a gentle head tilt.

Then you unstrapped his headgear. Left the mask alone, his eyes tracing every move of your hands with both apprehension and affection. You undid his vest before slowly going to your knees, caged between his thighs and blinking up at him. He swore he died, something inside of him jolting at the visual. His jaw ticked. You slowly put his guns away. Peeled his layers one by one, barely touching him and he watched wordlessly.

He even lifted his hips for you until he only wore his boxers. You saw his chest rising and falling a bit rapidly. “I’ll take care of you.” You pulled on his neck as your hands met his cold skin, dragging him down and his heart stopped when your lips were closing up on his, but you angled your chin and met his forehead instead. He was relieved. Disappointed?

The soft press sent shivers down his spine and he felt deliciously awful at this vulnerable disposition he had. His shoulders slumped and he watched you clean his wound, muscles tensing at the sting.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbled.

“Never said you had to.” You respond, turning off the faucet before turning back to him. “Do you want me to leav-“

“-no.” He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even care anymore, he told himself; if he was embarrassing himself, if you found him pathetic. Each time that fear clutched him this last half hour, he looked up and saw an odd sense of assurance and calmness in your eyes. Like you knew this was the natural next step for both of you and it calmed his nerves like a balm.

“Do you want me to look away?” You ask, breaking his train of thought. He looks up at you. Then he slowly shakes his head.

“…no.”

You breathe in a little sharper than usual as nervous excitement bubbles up your spine. You nod in a way that lets him know you don’t really want to look away either. He stands up and strips himself of his boxers. You take an appreciative glance over his now bare body, lingering on his stomach, instead of where he might think you’d look. He subconsciously flexes.

“Beautiful.”

He downright blushes and therefore hurriedly lowered himself into the tub with a groan. The water melted away the worst of the grime, tickling his chest as his eyes closed with a deep sigh. You smiled as you sat on the lip or the tub. He cracked an eye open.

“Come” he said and nudged his head to the tub, not managing to say anything else, his eyes selfishly looking at your neck again. It felt primal, almost not even… sexual as you stand up, hands possessing a slight tremble as you undress before him. He watches and you let him.

The water is a bit dirty, but bubbles foam at the top as you lower yourself in front of him, facing his front as your legs tangle under the surface. The water stops at the dip of your waist. He watches it, the dangerous waver of it that caressed your skin and he wished it was him. You lathered some soap on the cloth he had used for you before. Mind you he still had the mask on, only finally taking it off and breathing in. You gently use the cloth on his face, around his eyes, down his neck, humming softly.

“I missed you. Is that… is that fucked up?” He asks, his voice hoarse. This mission, its horrors, the loneliness; it wasn’t supposed to all just go away when he saw you. So why had he suddenly forgotten these last four days?

“I don’t know. But I’m glad that you did. I was going mad.” You tell him, a soft crinkle to your eyes as you dip the cloth in the water. His stomach tenses as the material scrapes down the hard planes of muscle. He groans softly.

“Just don’t tell anyone about this, yeah?” He mumbled as he leaned his head back, eyes closed in a bliss he hadn’t known before now. You bit your lip.

“Never. God forbid Simon Riley enjoyed himself.” You shook your head with a faux stern expression and his lips hinted at a smile, eyes barely open.

“Shut up and touch me some more.”

series masterlist

[luci4theminorannoyance]

I saw one singular post from you about platonic 141 and immediately followed. You do not understand how much comfort you have bestowed on me. So I'm here to make a request 🤑🤑🤑🔥🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️‼️ What do you think about maybe a younger reader and they wear a mask so no one can see how young they are for security reasons. But on one mission there mask got ripped and the whole team saw they're face. Ever since that mission the team has somewhat soft on the reader. Like in sparring or smth they be a little careful or like whenever reader is off duty, they need to follow reader's every move. NEED TO. Yup that's all, I love yapping as you can see and if your not comfortable with this request pls ignore it. Byee and take care of yourself<33333🥰🥰🥰

a/n: sure! I ❤️ when people yap to me dw, I made it a bit vague so people reading can decide if reader is a minor or just a very young adult, and fully platonic ofc

Ghost:

-on the mission where your mask got torn, he was doing sniper work, he had only seen your face briefly through his scope, but he could pick up how young you looked even from that little detail

-nothing much that was noticeable to the blind eye changed about his treatment in particular, but he slipped you one of his spare masks and when you made little mistakes on your reports and training, he let it slide quite a bit more then usual

price:

-being the fatherly man he was, as soon as he noticed how young you were, he absolutely doted on you. Always made up excuses on why he was giving you extra portions of food or newer gear or whatever he wanted to give you, but everyone knew why in the end

-wanted to keep you safe deep down, but didn’t ever bring it up. Didn’t want you to know he saw, but wanted to know he was there for you.

Gaz:

-certainly was less caring then the others, but just more caring when it came to you, more so then he was for everyone which was saying something. Hid it better then price though

-did some more data hunting through your files and made sure everything was in order for you to not be in trouble if you were caught, with the help of laswell of course. You were his teammate in the end, and he didn’t want you to get into trouble over something as simple as age even though you we’re definitely young to be in the taskforce

soap:

-became a lot more brotherly around you, more teasing and headlocks in the softest most friendly way. It’s just how he always has been, but to the max

-had played a little less jokes on you, and more with you helping him instead since it felt more fair and less like targeting, since he knew it was no longer a perfectly even game of teasing

[starlit-writer]

okay so we all know like "military man fucking you missionary and his dogtags swinging in your face as he fucks into you"

WHAT IF

"military man getting fucked in missionary by you, the diamond around your throat swinging as you fuck into them"

the very same one that he bought you, a mark of his love, his devotion, to his very own deity.

idk man, i love writing submissive men who are in positions of abject masculinity or power

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

[gomzdrawfr]

Ever wonder why the Captain doesn't take off his shoes ever?

based on this tweet:

[8-rae-rae-8]

Ghost who had a baby face up until he joined the military. By the way. Simon who gains back a little bit of the weight as he settles into the comfortable home the 141 has made around him. His softer features returning, just enough to look like Simon Riley again

[sentientthing]

I'm playing Webfishing so CoD characters are playing webfishing hop aboard or wave the ship its Headcanon time! Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Nikolai and Laswell in this, maybe I'll make another post for others we'll see.

Price:

Shirt says: "MILF Man I Love Fishing"

Gaz:

♦ Discovered the game and just wants to fish god dammit

♦ Pretends he doesn't know what MILF actually stands for

♦ Disappointed there is no cigar

♦ Very pleased with himself for choosing a funTM hat color

♦ "These damn fish won't bite" - no bait, chat minimized, doesn't realize until his paperwork pile gets suspiciously small. Win to him.

Soap:

Cap says: "If I've gone missing - I've gone fishing"

♦ Is fishing, very innocent no crimes perfect angel

♦ YES crimes bought the boxing gloves asap and is not afraid to use them

♦ Wiki gamer, gets irrate with the rng when the drop tables 'lie'. He's right and he should say it, its all rigged.

♦ Gold Boots for extra rare fish luck (yes thats how it works no the Wiki does not know better than him just this once tyvm)

♦ #AddARodholder so he can play guitar while waiting for bites and get rid of the radio PLEASE

Ghost:

♦ Slurpee Zoomies!!!!! He is speed He is agility He is grace He fell in water Baaaack to zoomin

♦ Giggles every time he spots his hat, no exceptions. Booba hihi.

♦ Only stops zooming to draw on the floor, is a little miffed theres no chalk eating face but the fish is good enough

♦ Fell into the void first, zoomie related accident, and thought he broke the game. Last to catch a Creature, has better stuff to do (ART)

♦ No patience for fishing with a rod, constantly misses the mini game and gets most of his catch from buckets

Nikolai:

♦First to get all fish AND to complete all tiers. Simon go touch grass.

♦Void was made for him, its there or private island for bait, hasn't been anywhere else since finishing the rain fish. Good for him.

♦Has punched Nik off the pier at least once, blamed it on the booze and has not been caught.

♦ Buckets are cheating, fight him about it but keep your frog slaves out of it.

♦ Discovered one grave, looked it up and had to have the spectral rod

Laswell + wife (<3 thanks my Love):

Cap says: "Women fear me, fish fear me, men turn their eyes away from me as I walk. No beasts dare make a sound in my presense. I am alone on this barren earth." Shirt: "I survived the primordial soup and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt."

♦ Server Host, always on but afk (he's busy)

♦ Has not considered fishing since discovering the metal detector, WILL get all the accessories eventually mark his words

♦ The boozemeter is always filled, he likes seeing the critter shuffle around when he glances at the screen occasionally

♦ Knows Laswell plays, is considering inviting her wife for kicks

♦ Sitting with Nik is code for AFK, he's delighted about it

♦ Sunshine and Sunshine protector. Kate got roped into playing by her wife.

♦ Did NOT agree to matching outfits, is not changing either.

♦ Only here to parallel play with her wife, sitting in game and working irl

♦Got the buckets just to send her catch to wifey since she complained about prices

♦ Saw the game on a screen in the hangar, harrowing day for her.

[tb-png]

Idol!Gaz 🧢

Meet my latest and dumbest au!!!!!! Gaz is the idol obviously, ghost is his body guard, soap is his producer best friend, and price is his manager!!!!!!!!!! They get up to shenanigans!!!!!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

TF 141 Headcanons

Masterlist

TF 141 Dump

Art from This Post [1] [2]

So this is just my general dump of headcanons. These are really about the 141 as a whole, so it goes over each character (generally). Sometimes some characters will be included or discluded, but if multiple of the 141 are mentioned it'll most likely be here as well as in the character's personal section.

Morning Beverages

[omniscientoswald]

Laswell and Price talking about their children(TF141 and F-0-Z):

Price and Laswell discussing their teams:

Price: *Sits downs, letting out a long, annoyed sigh*

Laswell: Long week?

Price: Guess you could say that. The teams got me all over the place.

Laswell: I get that. I have to deal with my own daily shenanigans.

Price: Really? Tuesday, Soap blew up a truck with C-4's! Wednesday, Simon nearly landed half the SAS trainees in the hospital during their sparring just because they called him "Skully." And Gaz started a full on prank wars resulting in my office being flooded.

Laswell: *Lets out a spiteful chuckle* You think thats bad? Oswald took an F-35 on a joyride, nearly crashing and now I've got Shepard on my case. Dice started a gambling ring on base and is completely broke. Smokes took this opportunity to win everyones cigs and now theres brawls and cig trading hubs all over base that I gotta deal with.

Price: That doesn't even come cl-

*Explosion in background*

Price and Laswell panicking: No one's watching the kids-

[sgt-tombstone]

idk if I’ve posted about this before but I seriously headcanon that Ghost has a twelve-step skincare regimen

it includes moisturizer, witch hazel, scar gel, burn cream, etc and he sticks to it religiously when he can

it’s not that he is particularly enthused about self care or even skin care in general, but it keeps his eye black from creasing, his scars from aching, and his face from breaking out with acne under his mask

when the 141 pulls off their Ghost Team balaclavas in Las Almas, he nearly doubles over in laughter at their messed up eye black, fabric creases pressed into their dry skin, and pimples already starting to pop up

after they get back from Chicago, all three of them find a small bag with moisturizer, face cleanser, and acne cream outside of their barracks and none of them even have to ask who it came from

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

Uni AU where professor Price teaches this weird niche elective something 141 

There are four people in the roster of this class, (one of them is always absent to the point they’re not entirely sure if he’s in this class) cough Roach cough 

But after a while people who aren’t even in the class start showing up because of the stories told about this weird elective and the students in it. I could elaborate, but first, I need to know, what is the elective 👁️

The sequel to this idea will be called whatever we choose 142.

The third level of this elective? 241. 

Yes the entire basis of this AU was was just the fact that 141 sounds like a uni class number. 

[luci4theminorannoyance]

hihi1 is it okay if you do framed traitor!reader with the 141 (platonic relationship) where they turn into a social recluse due to severe anxiety? so they withdraw from the team, only speaking on missions and only showing themselves when they need to. and one day, the team gets into a life threatening situation and the reader saves them?? im not tryna make you do anything, but thank you if you choose this!

a/n: of course! :], I love accused traitor user, I really need to make a tag for all the posts about them, sorry for this taking a bit! This one I will be splitting into two parts, please remind me to do so!

Gaz:

-He always felt so guilty when he was you worried and anxious and silent through the halls. It was wrong, it was wrong for you. He missed you, missed your little jokes even if you were a bit silent to begin with

-honestly doesn’t expect you to even help them once he and price get tossed deep into enemy base territory, ghost and soap in the cell beside them. Price had tried to reassure him that you were still loyal to the team, but… gaz couldn’t forgive any of them for what they did to you

-was half fainted when you got to him, waking up in medbay… sighing softly when he noticed your signatures on a ‘get well’ card

price:

-tries anything in his power to get you to open up to him, to let him help, to let him fix the hurt and fill the void he knew he had caused you, under his orders, his command. He just wanted you to have peace

-the day before the mission went wrong, he was begging laswell to find you a bit of help without alerting people to mark things on your files, but now it looks like that issue would be put into second place.

-the cell he was in with gaz was partially stained and damaged, making him recoil as he tried to at least sleep, or calm gaz down. Price was sure you’d show up- eventually

[pampanope]

@crazyfandomluver heeehee i love the thought of lil Phillip killing so many fish that he gets a childhood nickname out of it! Also love how, despite being an utter bastard in general, he makes sure his son only has the best parts of himself and is willing to do what it takes for him.

Of course kid Phillip would have loyal dogs and horses 🥰

Lmao everyone being like “oh wow Graves is dead” but Adler would note the clear ABSENCE OF A BODY or even how the tank wasn’t searched and he’d be like “Nope, not dead. I taught him better than that.” XD

I got this hc that they got each other’s backs; Phillip would use his money and personal army to keep his dad safe while Russell would use his Many and Considerable contacts and resources to pull some strings if his son ever needed it.

Adler hates Shepherd and the hold that man has on his son. As a master manipulator, he would recognize another manipulator and would kill him if the man’s sudden death didn’t also paint a target on Phillip’s back.

Russell Adler as Graves’ dad AU 🤣

Idk man the concept is hilarious to me

Annmd GASP! They have a good relationship!

Shadows be like oh shit hot dilf on base