Hello! It’s been a minute since I have written but I have quite a few drabbles ready to go.
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TF141 X f Aussie Reader.
Summary: you’re new to the task force but the boys cant get over the Aussie slang you bring even though Soap cannot be talking!
“Yeah, Nah, Mate.”
She’d been with Task Force 141 for three months.
Three very long months of proving herself in the field, learning their rhythms, earning trust the hard way—and still, somehow, every single operation turned into an excuse for them to absolutely rip into her.
Today was no different.
Low-risk recon. Desert outskirts. Clear skies. Minimal hostiles. Easy day.
She crouched at the head of the formation, scanning the ridgeline with practiced ease, Aussie accent calm and steady over comms.
“Alright, reckon we cut left here. Terrain’s lookin’ a bit dodgy up ahead but we’ll be right.”
There it was.
Ghost didn’t even hesitate.
“Reckon.”
Soap immediately perked up.
“Ah dinnae like tha’ word.”
Gaz followed, delighted.
“Yeah, that one sounded made up.”
She paused mid-step and turned her head slowly, incredulous. “—What’s wrong with reckon?”
Soap crept closer, rifle raised, voice thick and musical.
“Ah’m jist sayin’, every time ye speak it sounds like ye’re aboot tae start a bar fight.”
Ghost added, “Or finish one.”
She scoffed. “You lot are cooked.”
Price’s voice came in, amused.
“Cooked?”
Gaz grinned. “That’s another.”
She threw a hand up. “It means you’re all a few snags short of a barbie!”
Soap lost it.
“A what?!”
Ghost tilted his head. “Did she just threaten us with sausages?”
She stared at them through her visor, dead serious. “I swear to God, you mob would not survive five minutes back home.”
Soap laughed breathlessly.
“Ah cannae even understand her insults an’ they still hurt.”
Despite herself, she smirked and kept moving. She flowed through the terrain like she belonged there—quiet, sharp, confident. Her movement spoke louder than her slang ever could.
She stopped near the objective, kneeling beside the rusted structure housing their intel cache.
“Target’s just in there,” she murmured. “Door’s lookin’ a bit rooted.”
The silence was immediate.
Heavy.
Then—
Soap, wheezing:
“Did—did she jist say rooted?”
Gaz nearly dropped his rifle.
“I refuse to believe that means what I think it means.”
Price sighed like a man who had seen too much.
“Sergeant. Please clarify.”
She blinked. “…Broken?”
Ghost’s voice went flat.
“You can’t just say that.”
“Why not? It is.”
Soap clutched his chest dramatically.
“Christ, Price, she’s gonnae get us written up.”
She shook her head, muttering as she pried the panel open. “Buncha softcocks.”
All four of them:
“…What.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Means you’re all bein’ sooks.”
Soap squinted.
“Ah feel personally attacked an’ Ah still dinnae ken why.”
Mission done. Clean. Smooth. No complications.
Which meant the real danger started back at base.
She kicked her boots off in the rec room, flopping onto the couch with a groan. “Bloody oath, that went smoother than I thought.”
Gaz froze mid-reach for a drink.
“Say that again.”
She waved him off. “Nah.”
Soap dropped into the chair opposite her, grinning ear to ear.
“Ye say nah like it’s a full sentence.”
“It is a full sentence.”
Ghost leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“She does it on purpose now.”
Price sat down with his mug, watching her with open amusement.
“You do realize we only give you grief because you’re new, right?”
She raised a brow. “Right. And why don’t you give him grief?” She jerked her thumb at Soap. “Half the time he sounds like he’s speakin’ through a mouthful of marbles.”
Soap gasped, scandalized.
“Ah’ll have ye ken this is a beautiful accent.”
Gaz snorted.
“Debatable.”
Soap shot him a look.
“Shut it, ye posh git.”
She laughed, finally, full and unguarded. “See? You understand him fine but I say ‘no worries’ and suddenly it’s a bloody mystery.”
Ghost replied evenly, “You said ‘no worries’ after disarming a potential explosive.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause—no worries.”
Price shook his head, smiling.
“You fit in better than you think.”
She softened a bit at that, then smirked. “Yeah, nah.”
Soap grinned.
“Ah’m startin’ tae understand that one.”
Ghost muttered, “I hate that.”
She stretched out on the couch, hands behind her head. “Face it, boys. You love me.”
Soap nodded enthusiastically.
“Aye. Ye’re like a rabid koala.”
“…That’s not a compliment.”
“Ah meant it lovingly.”
She laughed again, feeling it settle in her chest.
