#platonic cod

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just shark hybrid!ghost who gets so stressed when he finds out secretary!reader is menstruating...

He smells it on you when you first step onto base, distinct and yours without a doubt. Ghost stops mid-conversation with price just to hunt you down.

You don't even make it to your office before a rough hand is grabbing you by the shoulder, wrenching you back to face ghost with a scowl. "You're hurt. Why aren't you in medical."

You frown at ghost, try not to snap because he's your kinda your boss, "what? No I'm not? Are you okay, sir?"

"You reek of blood, kid," ghost grunts, spinning you around to look for any obvious injury "much more than a papercut."

....no way. You look at ghost, coming to the mortifying realization he's serious. With a grimace, you say "ghost...I'm....I'm on my period."

For a second you think he might actually gasp, eye's wide and hands flying off of you into a sign of surrender. His face is so red it practically glows. "Christ– sorry kid. I'll uh. Leave you to it."

He retreats swiftly and you think that's the end of it. A bit of embarrassment but whatever.

That is, until you come back to your office after a bathroom break to find a five pound bag of chocolate on your desk. It's sat right on the edge, as if ghost deliberated with himself whether or not to leave it. Alongside the...honestly nice chocolate, is a bottle ibuprofen and some water.

You wouldn't know it, but ghosts been pacing the base all day, unable to settle down. He can usually ignore the scent of blood, surrounded as he is with people training and the whole medical wing but...it's different with people he cares about. His instincts keep screaming about the pup being hurt.

Yes, ghost spent his lunch frantically searching how to help with periods, then drove to the nearest shop just to grab you stuff. Yes, he felt weird and awkward dealing that stuff but he wants to help. Ghost can handle brutal executions and torture...a period shouldn't be hard.

You start to think its a bit overkill when two more five pound bags show up in your office. How much does he think you'll need in a day?!

[countrycritter]

POV: You’re a dog hybrid and also Ghost’s partner in crime 🐶

💣 — Constantly getting shoulder and back pats after doing well on a mission or training but he uses enough force to weigh you down a little (your tail only wags harder smh)

💣 — Based off of the last one, he literally pats you like a dad would his dog. Big, hearty pats

💣 — You have a loose-fitting collar (not in a freaky way guys 🫩) and it has a skull pendant, 141 tag, and a half dead glow stick from that time you had to do a night mission. Btw, every time Ghost would see you from on top of a roof he would laugh because you were just a little glowing dot running around.

💣 — Ghost laughs at you like you’re the funniest thing on earth. You know how people just randomly laugh at their dogs? That’s him and you. You could be doing absolutely nothing and he’ll just start giggling like a madman. People never believe you though because he’s so serious around everyone else smh 😔

💣 — One time you got all muddy so he threw you in a lake. But in retaliation, you didn’t come back up for about a minute. Right as he was about to jump in, you appeared on the surface and shook water all over him. Consider that payback. (He still throws you in the lake when you purposely get dirty.)

💣 — You get special privileges. That means if anyone tries to pet you or call out to you in a demeaning way (whistling and patting their knees) they get their shit rocked by Ghost. Only he’s allowed to do that stuff 😐

💣 — You all wear vests on missions and one day Ghost bought a big, yellow CAUTION label to attach to yours.

💣 — He has a “Beware of Dog” sign attached to his office door. You’re barely even in there.

💣 — If you’re good he lets you sleep in his bed and you make sure to take advantage of this by sprawling out on it completely (you have a perfectly good bed right next door). He can’t say no because you’d been good, he can’t take away the privilege.

💣 — You lowkey steal his clothes sometimes. He’ll spot you wearing one of his shirts while training but all he can do is glare at you from across the field because it would be unprofessional to make a scene. He is a lieutenant after all. You make the excuse that what’s his is yours. But it doesn’t go the other way. What’s yours is NOT his.

Honestly don’t know where i was going with this. Ghost needs some joy and whimsy in his life 😇

[imshymorph]

Thinking about Ghost who has been grumpy all day, and i mean way more than usual. He’s yelled at ten different recruits already, almost shoved Johnny’s face into his breakfast tray due to a bad pun, and dared to question Price’s orders in a packed strategy meeting. His skull mask covers his face, as always, but you can still feel the deep scowl and the constant glare he sports under it. It’s just 9:30AM.

It goes on for most of the day, and people just take to avoiding him as much as possible, at least until the quietly-brooding Ghost is back.

Except for you. Because you get a weird little feeling that says that there has to be something happening for him to be acting like this. Sure, Ghost is dry and blunt, a little social awkward at times, but he’s never acted like this before.

So you subtly stay around him, you hover around the kitchenette when his presence has cleared up the rec room. Or just so happen to have to clean your weapons at the same time he does, just the two of you in the armoury, occupying the two furthest placed benches.

It slowly becomes more and more obvious as you observe him throughout the day, the shifting and the huffing, the way he tugs at his clothes and tries to adjust once more. So, when you see him heading into his office, you wait for a few minutes before lightly knocking on the door.

There’s a gruff “come in”, one that sounds more like a growl than actual words, but you still open and give him a small smile. You just get a glare in return, a tilt of the head to the side that you know would instead be raised, expectant eyebrows if you were to see them.

You shift on your feet for a second before you decide to go for it, worst case scenario he yells at you and you have to leave.

“Is it itchy?”

There’s silence for a moment, and you truly believe he’s about to cuss you out and tell you to leave and not talk to him again. But instead, almost reluctant, he nods.

“Want me to take it off?” You take a small step closer, not moving any further before he gives another light nod. As soon as he does, you’re crossing his office, reaching into the first drawer of his desk to take out a pair of scissors.

As soon as you’re standing behind him, your free hand is reaching for the back of his shirt, lightly tugging on the neckline to reveal the cause of his moody state.

The itchy tags of the standard issued shirts.

They had given out new ones not long ago, and you had correctly guessed that ghost would’ve forgotten about taking them off. A quiet snip fills the silent room, as soon as soft fabric presses against his skin, his shoulders relax.

“There we go,” he sees your light, approving nod from the corner of his eye, and doesn’t say anything until you’ve thrown the tags out and put the scissors back in their spot, standing in front of him again.

You shrug it off before he can even get the «thank you» out, instead tugging your shirt a bit to reveal your already-cut shirt. “Feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t.”

He just gives a nod of understanding in return, and with a smile you wave him goodbye before leaving his office. While Ghost finally gets to relax —already thinking of sneaking some of that candy you like into your office as a way to repay you—, you head down the hallway, making a bee-line to Price’s to notify him about how the situation has been resolved.

Masterlist (not updated currently)

Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.

[spookytragedyshark]

Being Mimicked

Price was not sure what to think of the newest member of the team. Their file was not very helpful. (y/n) was clearly skilled. Seemed their hobby was taking online classes, with the number of certificates they have.

The issue Mimic had been transferred from team to team every sixish months since they joined. There were no complaints from these teams or Mimic, but every six months...

So he sat back and watched. Mimic was eerily quiet. Not too concerning given Ghost doing the same. But Mimic did not talk. Not too concerning, he supposed given Roach doing the same.

What was concerning was how quickly Mimic took to communicating like Roach did. It made sense in a way, same signals and all, but it was eerie how roach-like it was. but Roach was not bothered by it. In fact, he seemed amused.

Then he noticed how your mask shifted differently after every conversation. Fabric masks were common enough he did not question it till your shifting mask looked a little too similar to roach and ghosts.

You were closest in height to soap, and this time Price noticed immediately that you were walking like soap. Not all walking is just your stride.

Mimic was not referring to your learning abilities...

Soon after, you started mimicking Gaz's stance and slight hand gestures.

Then price saw his own cocky eyes staring back at him during a sparing match. The same exact way he looked when he knew he was twenty steps ahead of an enemy. Sure enough, he lost that Sparring match and forced himself to settle the uncanny valley feeling and congratulate you. It had been four months, so what was going to happen in the next two to result in your transferring? He decided to make some calls.

The same question every time, "Has she spoken?" As soon as he said no, they would stop talking.

But he got his answer when Roach got hurt. Mimic uses their mic. Each word is panicky and in a different one of the 141s voices.

Okay, that was terrifying. Roach is fine healing, and Mimic is not talking again. Price does not like that, but he also does not know what to do about the talking thing because terrifying. Surprisingly, a while later, Soap convinces you to talk.

Soap retales it to the team. You can not control the mimicking, and you know it makes you creepy. The more nervous you are, the worse it gets when it comes to your voice. It is almost six months, and Price thinks he gets it now.

Price doesn't even talk to the team; they just know what to do. Each one starts prompting short answers out of you. At first, you seem incredibly surprised, and the voice shift is choppy and chaotic, but as time goes on, you keep the same voice longer. Eventually, you start speaking in their voice back to them.

8 months in, that is when the boys finally sit down and talk. It is psychological, and you are improving. You can not stop mimicking, but you can control who you are mimicking. Your previous teams did not wait or watch. You are loyal. Creepy but Loyal. Worth it in all their books, so they keep treating you as normal and try to tamper the uncanny valley ness. You keep improving.

A year in you are not always mimicking others' body language. The boys throw a little anniversary party. As you look at the cake, a soft "thank you" comes out in a voice that they do not recognize.

I may or may not make some different points of view for the team. I may rewrite this one. For now, I must sleep.

[blueperry123]

Hmm something cute, a little tender

There are a lot of things Ghost expects from deployment.

Sleep deprivation? Normal.

Soap trying to freestyle during surveillance? Unfortunately, yes.

A teenager on base, following him around like a badly programmed drone? Absolutely not.

It starts with silence.

Which, under normal circumstances Ghost likes. Silence is comfortable. Predictable. But not when it’s coming from somewhere behind him.

Every time he turns a corner: footsteps.

Every time he stops to check his weapon: silence.

He looks up once during lunch to find a scrawny kid, maybe sixteen, sitting at the next table over. Dressed in black. Wearing a makeshift balaclava.

Just… staring.

Ghost blinks.

The kid blinks back.

And from that day forward, it’s like the universe decided to punish him.

Gaz nearly cries laughing the first time he catches them together.

“Mate,” Gaz wheezes, “you’ve got a fan club.”

Soap’s doubled over beside him. “Look at him! Wee man’s even got the mask! Same stance too!”

It’s true. The kid’s doing the full Ghost pose; arms crossed, shoulders square, slightly to the side. Like he’s studied hours of footage.

When Ghost moves, the kid moves.

When Ghost folds his arms, so does the kid.

When Ghost doesn’t speak, neither does the kid.

Soap snorts. “He’s like yer bloody shadow, Lt.”

“He’s not my shadow.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Look. he even follows ye into the gym.”

And he does.

Ghost tries switching routines, going earlier, later…nothing works.

Everywhere he goes, there’s this awkwardly lanky teen skulking after him with the intensity of a baby assassin.

It hits peak chaos during a mission briefing.

Price is explaining op details when the door opens.

Ghost walks in; mask, tac vest, full gear.

Behind him? The kid.

Same mask, same tac vest, oversized gear hanging off them like they’ve looted the quartermaster.

Price just stares.

“Riley.”

“Sir.”

“Care to explain the clone?”

Before Ghost can answer, the kid snaps to attention and salutes. “Recruit Ghost Jr., reporting for duty, sir.”

Soap’s gone. Crying.

Gaz is biting his knuckle trying not to laugh.

Price pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s aged ten years on the spot.

“Out,” Price says flatly.

Ghost doesn’t even argue..just turns on his heel. The kid mirrors the motion perfectly.

Later that night, Ghost finds the kid sitting by the firepit, still wearing the mask.

“You know you don’t have to copy me, yeah?” Ghost mutters.

The kid shrugs. “You’re cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah. You don’t talk. You’re scary. Everyone listens when you speak. You don’t… need to fit in.”

That makes him pause.

The way the kid says it—quiet, like it’s a prayer, like it’s about more than just mimicry—Ghost realises this isn’t just about admiration. It’s about wanting to matter.

He sighs.

“Kid,” he says, sitting down beside them, “trust me. Bein’ scary’s overrated.”

They glance over. “You mean… you don’t like it?”

“Means people don’t laugh with you. They just shut up.”

The kid thinks about that for a long moment.

Finally pulls off the mask. It’s crooked, sweaty, awkwardly held together with duct tape.

“Still,” they mumble, “you make it look kinda badass.”

Ghost huffs out something dangerously close to a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He freezes.

“What?”

“Nothing!” the kid squeaks. “Slip of the tongue!”

Soap, from somewhere behind a crate: “AYE, DAD!”

Ghost stands up. “I’ll kill him first.”

Yes this is based on a real convo I had… be nice to the kids in your life yall. Anyway there’s a version of this with the kid being extra little that’s cuter if yall want

[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.

[zer0tox1c]

Roach, Soap, Gaz, and Hyena are a menace, but their shenanigans are what makes the base more lively

Price & Ghost are amused and annoyed at the same time but it's better than the quiet

Roach being roach is already a menace on his own and has been for a long time

Soap always loves good fun especially when it involves a boom and always love to annoy Ghost a little

Gaz is the most reasonable and responsible but can't help himself when the fun sounds too tempting

Hyena already has chaotic gremlin energy and it only amplified when she's the youngest in the team aka she's their little sister

Sure they're grown ups who acts like little kids but who's gonna stop them? And even after the things they have gone through wouldn't it be nice to have some laughs here & there

[not-so-normal-wh0re]

GUYS I NEED HELP

I read every fanfic I could on here on everyone off my favourite topics I have nothing to read please tell me in the comments good fics or headcanons on here about any of the fandoms in my pinned post PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU.

Any help will be greatly appreciated,but please only x male or GN! Reader if the fic is x reader,thanks.

Also,platonic fics with x kid reader are greatly appreciated. I need to be adopted so bad,my parents suck.