#caoimhewrites

[caoimhewrites]

Last Name

How TF 141 + König react to you Introducing yourself with their last name. Idea from @cherie-doll

CW: None

WC: 788

Ghost wasn't sure he heard you right. Perhaps he was hearing things? Because no way in hell did he hear you correctly... right? He’d been with you for a long while now, had fought beside you, had trusted you with his life, but hearing you say it, hearing you introduce yourself like that... it rattled him in a way he didn’t quite understand. The words hung in the air, a soft declaration that struck him more than he was willing to admit. You had never used his last name before, and the weight of it seemed almost surreal. It was a simple thing, a word, yet it felt like a thousand pounds resting on his chest. There was a moment of stillness, as if the world around him had frozen just to let the truth settle in. His own name had never been much more than a mask, a title for the man who was always in the shadows. And yet, with that simple claim, you had just made it yours.

König was sat on the couch in your shared apartment. You were angrily arguing on the phone to your bank after losing your card in Munich on vacation. König's head snapped to look at you when you told the man over the phone your name. His heart skipped a beat. His eyes locked on you as the weight of those words hit him, something soft and unspoken settling deep in his heart. He had heard you talk about taking his last name before, had known you planned to, but hearing it come from your lips now, casual and final. It felt different. It felt permanent. He hadn't realized you had hung up the phone and walked over to him, staring down at his bewildered face. "König?" you lean a bit closer, eyes meeting his. He takes a moment to just look at you. "Ja... yes, yes I'm fine. Perfectly fine" he smiles wide, feeling content in the knowledge that you were his and he was yours.

Price wrapped an arm around you waist, giving you a gentle, loving squeeze. Hearing his surname fall from your lips was like a drug, one he never wanted to quit. Just one hit and he was hooked. The way it sounded rolling off your tongue, so natural, so intimate, made something in his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. You paused, noticing the way his grip tightened around you, the faint shudder that ran through his body. "You okay?" you asked, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes softened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back in a slow, comforting rhythm. "Never thought I'd hear it, love," he finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Price... Sounds good coming from you."

Gaz was grinning ear to ear like a fool. He had brought you to base to meet the rest of the task force. You had insisted. "Kyle pleaseeeee. I'll be in and out, I swear," you had pleaded with him the night before. You even made a batch of cookies to win his friends over. You were standing in the middle of the room, trying to shake off the nerves that had settled in your stomach as Kyle introduced you. What Kyle hadn't expected was for you to stop him when he introduced you. A puzzled look settled over his face as he turned his head to look at you. The name "Garrick" slipped past your lips after your name. “Babe?” Kyle’s voice was a little unsure as he squeezed you a bit tighter, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together your unexpected declaration. You gave him a small, almost shy smile. “I mean... that is my last name now, right?”

Soap stood beside you in the little tchotchke shop that you love so much. You've spent a ridiculous amount of time and money here and no matter how many times you dragged Johnny through the store he just never understood it. He's distracted himself at the checkout, gazing off at some dorky pins with pictures of cats when he heard the name "Mactavish" come from you when you give the woman behind the counter your name for your member discount. He felt the world go still for a moment, his heart jumping in his chest. When you say it again, spelling it out for the woman, he thinks he might drop to the floor in a big puddle. He blinked several times, trying to bring himself back to reality. "Mactavish" he mumbled to himself and smiled softly, gazing at you. You know, maybe he really likes this store after all.

[caoimhewrites]

Firefighters

TF 141 + König as firefighters who help you out

CW: Mentions of fires/floods, minor injuries, mainly fluff WC: 1k

Ghost: You stood outside your office building, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to shake off the shock. The fire had been small, and contained quickly, but the panic was real. A shadow loomed over you, and you looked up to see one of the firefighters who had ushered you out of the building. “Sit still,” he said, voice commanding yet oddly comforting. You hadn’t realized until now how badly your arm hurt. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes flicking over the small, minor burn before he gently took your arm in his gloved hand. "It's not too bad, but we'll need to take you to the hospital anyway," he mutters, eyes focused on the bandages. “Thanks… for helping,” you murmured, wincing slightly as the burn stung. Ghost glanced up, his eyes softening. “It’s my job.” You feel your cheeks heating up slightly. "Thanks anyway," you give him a small, bashful smile. "You uh... see a lot of fires?" You regret it the second it leaves your mouth. Do you see a lot of fires? Seriously? Out of everything you could have said, why that? Before you faint from embarrassment, he chuckles. "How did you know?" You breathe a sigh of relief at his humor, your eyes meeting his brown ones, "Just a feeling."

König: You stood in your front yard, eyes fixed on the tree in front of you. Your cat was perched on a branch near the top, her wide eyes with fear. "Mrs Platypus!" you called, trying to coax her down. She meowed in response but refused to move. Panic rose in your chest. You'd tried everything, calling, shaking treats, even using the neighbor's ladder, but nothing worked. “You need help?” You turned to see a towering figure approaching. You swear you've never seen a man so tall. "I- yes." You nod, your eyes glued to the skyscraper of a firefighter. "I didn't call anyone or anything," you add. You were surprised to see a firefighter there on your lawn. "I'm off duty, I live next door. I thought you could use some help." he says simply and effortlessly reaches up, pulling your cat out of the tree. "What's her name?" You let out a chuckle of embarrassment, "Mrs Platypus..." He lets out an amused bark of laughter. "Really? Now that's one I definitely haven't heard before." He gently hands you the cat and smiles. You notice he has quite a nice smile. The way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Thanks. I thought I would never get her down," you thank him. He just smiles and says, "Anytime."

Price: The screech of metal against metal echoed in the dim light of the elevator. You pressed the button repeatedly, but the display above the door only flickered. Your heart raced, panic bubbling up as you tugged uselessly at the sliding doors. "Come on," you muttered, trying to calm your breath. You have no idea how long you've been in there. The emergency button naturally wasn't working and the service on your phone was pathetically weak. You were sure you were going to have a breakdown just before you finally got help on the phone. "Hey! You in there?" You froze for a moment. Was that… a man’s voice? "Yeah, I’m stuck," you called back, your voice laced with anxiety. "I need help. Please, can you get me out?" You heard the loud wrenching of the doors as they are pried open. They snapped open just enough for you to see the man on the other side. "Hey, love. You alright in there?" If your jaw dropped any wider it would be on the floor. He's gorgeous. "I'm fine," you nod rapidly, suddenly feeling like every word you've ever known has dripped out of your brain. "Sorry we took so long, love. Busy day." He gives you a wink and pries the doors open wider, extending a hand to you to help you out. You give him a small thank you as you take his hand and step out. "How ya feelin'?" He asks softly as he gazes down at you. You stammer for a moment, "good... great, excellent," you say rapidly, blushing like a tomato.

Gaz: The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burnt wood and fabric stinging your nose. Firefighters moved around you in a blur, shouting orders, directing people away from the ruins of the apartment complex. A hand on your shoulder snapped you back to reality. You looked up, blinking through the haze, and met the gaze of a firefighter in full gear. “Hey, you alright?” he asked, his voice calm and comforting. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “My apartment… it’s gone. All my stuff was in there." He nodded, stepping closer. “We’ve got the fire under control now,” he said, eyes scanning the wreckage, “but I’m sorry about your place. That’s a tough break.” You sighed and nodded, "I'll figure it out." He thinks for a second, "You know, me and my team are heading back to the station after this. We can give you a ride somewhere if you want. We can even put on the sirens for you," He says teasingly and smiles down at you warmly.

Soap: The storm had ravaged everything. Floodwaters had quickly turned your neighborhood into a river. Luckily your house wasn't damaged too badly but you definitely couldn't stay. You were lost in thought when you heard the loud knock at your door. When you opened it, there stood a firefighter, drenched from head to toe, with a look of determination in his eyes. His dark, mohawk was soaked flat on his head, and his uniform was heavy with water, but he didn’t seem to care. “Hey, you alright in here?” His voice was warm, calm, but laced with urgency. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I—I don’t know what to do." He cuts you off, “Don’t worry, love. I’m here now,” he said, stepping inside without hesitation, boots squelching in the water. His steady presence was an instant relief. "We've got time," he says reassuringly as he gently helps you out the door. He catches you when you stumble through the water. "Careful, love. I got you."

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[caoimhewrites]

Unexpected Addition

How TF 141 + König would react to coming home to find you have a new dog

CW: None

WC: 818

Ghost walked through the door of the flat, his boots echoing off the hardwood floor. All he wanted was a quiet evening, but as he stepped into the living room, his eyes immediately landed on something, no, someone that he hadn’t expected. A small and quite obese, scraggly looking dog sat on the couch... in Simon's spot. "What is this... thing?" He muttered, raising a curious eyebrow at you. “Isn’t she adorable?” You reply with an excited grin. He looked down at the little dog, its tail a blur of motion. The dog barked happily, clearly more enthusiastic about the situation than he was. "It's... ugly," he says simply "really ugly... I like it." He pulled off his balaclava and gave you a wink. "It better not get too comfortable in my spot though."

König blinked once, then twice, his eyes landing on a large mass on the carpet. A Great Dane. A huge Great Dane, with its massive body taking up nearly half the space of the room, and its ears perked up in an almost comical display. König wasn't expecting this at all. He usually avoids pets, finding them too much of a hassle. You emerged from the kitchen, casually wiping your hands on a towel. "Surprise,” you smile as you gesture vaguely to the large beast of a dog that's still lounging on the floor. "You like her?" The dog padded toward him, its giant paws almost making the floor creak. “I thought it would be nice,” you said with a grin, leaning against the wall. He stares at you for a moment before giving you a small smile, his hesitation about the dog fading when he sees you smiling so happily, "She's cute. Certainly a surprise."

Price kicked off his boots, stretching his sore shoulders, and took a deep breath, ready for the peace and quiet of home. But as he rounded the corner into the living room, he came to a screeching halt. A small, furious ball of fur was standing in the middle of the room, its beady eyes locked onto him with intense, undiluted disdain. A Chihuahua. A fucking Chihuahua? Out of all the things you could have picked? Price loved dogs, he's been wanting one but he didn't mean anything like this little, evil looking creature that was yapping up at him and biting his boots. "Hi, honey," you say brightly as you walk to the living room, drawn by the intense barking. "Love, what is this thing doing in the house?" He asks without hesitation. He really can not fathom why you brought this mangy little thing home. "You said you wanted a dog, I got one. She's cute, don't you think?" No. No, he did not think that at all. "Love, this... thing isn't what I was talking about." He says lightly, not wanting to hurt your feelings. His heart breaks when he sees you frown. "You really like her?" He asks as he steps closer to you, reaching out to play with your hair. You nod and he sighs, "So... what's her name then? She'll be needing one."

Gaz is over the moon when he walks in to see a fluffy ball waddling up to him and letting out rough barks. It's eyes were huge and bulging, going off in two different directions. It's fur was far too long for it's little skinny body and was tangled beyond belief, and it's impossibly skinny legs looked bent in all the wrong places, but he was ecstatic. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?” Kyle laughed, crouching down to pet the dog's scruffy head. Kyle picked up the bizarre looking animal, gently stroking its tangled, greasy fur. "You need a bath... like now," he chuckles, setting off for the bathroom. He's surprised to see you already in there and running a bath for the weird little dog. "Hey, Love. Where did you find this beast?"

Soap was used to this, random animals popping up around the house when he got home and tonight was no different. When he trudged up to the bedroom he came face to face with another dog perched on the bed, next to the other three that you insisted on having. It was lounging across the sheets, eyes half-closed. The dog had a massive head with big, floppy ears, and its fur was a mishmash of colors. It didn’t seem particularly energetic, but it was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, like it owned the place. "Not again," he sighs to himself and kicks his shoes off. "Love!" He calls out for you, "What's this one named? You find it on the side of the road like the last one?" He gave up on trying to stop you adopting whatever sorry animal you came across a long time ago. He never had any room on the bed now but at least you were happy.

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[caoimhewrites]

Sick Days

How TF141 + König would help you on your sick days

CW: None

WC: 505

Ghost Has you snuggled up on the couch in a nest of pillows and blankets. He'll make sure you hardly even have to leave your cozy spot until you're better. He’ll check on you regularly, especially if you're feverish. Simon is very sensible about illness, he'll make sure you do everything by the book when it comes to getting better. Plenty of water, meds and rest. He won't be hearing any argument from you about it either. Too bad if you think the medicine is gross. You need it to get better and he'll make it his personal mission to help you.

König is also very sensible, much like Simon. He'll make sure you get some rest. If that's not enough, he'll be calling the doctor for you and making sure to list off every single one of your symptoms. König has an amazing memory. Especially when it comes to you. He'll always remember how you like your tea or coffee. Expect plenty of it while you're wrapped in a mountain of blankets. You'll have your favorite everything when you're sick. No need or want goes unmet with König. He may be a huge and frankly scary man, but he's a gentle giant at heart, always helping you get better.

Price will be waiting on you hand and foot. He can't let his love do ANY work in this state. Expect all of your needs to be met. Need soup? He's making your favorite. Sweet tooth? He's already on his way to your favorite bakery to get you whatever you could want. You're cold? He'll give you extra blankets and even turn the heat up. He's overly worried about you. You could have a simple cold and he'll be on webMD checking your symptoms and calling every doctor in the area.

Gaz will 100% be your nap buddy. You'll need plenty of rest to get better and Kyle will jump on the opportunity to cuddle and sleep the day away. He's always tired after deployment so if you're tired from being sick? It works out perfectly. Any time spent awake he spends helping you. He's a great cook so he'll be making whatever you request even if it's bland and boring like plain rice or pasta with nothing but butter and salt. He's pretty quiet when you're sick, just offering some silent comfort and help.

Soap is the sick one. I have it in my head that he is ALWAYS sick with something. He hides it well when deployed but when he's home and sick? Be ready to be tending to him constantly. He's very dramatic about it too. He acts like he got the plague, whining and pleading for your help. Really he just likes your attention. He loves when you pamper him and watch over him. He'll take the opportunity to snuggle as much as he can. Giving you his best pleading puppy eyes, "pleaseeeee, love? I'm a dyin' man here." You can't help but give in, his adorable expression pulling you in.

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[caoimhewrites]

Vacation

I was just on vacation and it got me thinking about how TF 141 + König act on vacation with you so here's some headcanons

CW: None WC: 669

Ghost isn't really the kind of guy to go on vacation. He's a "stay at home and relax" man, enjoying the short amount of time he gets at home with you. "I'm always off on deployment, I don't understand why I would use my time at home to just ship myself off somewhere else," he always says. You're in disbelief when you finally manage to convince him to actually travel anywhere farther than the couch with you. He won't complain though, he'll feel too guilty if he does. So, he begrudgingly putters through the airport with you. Amusement parks are a big no for him. Too many people, long lines, overpriced food? Yeah he'll pass. But, if you take him somewhere quiet and peaceful, he'll love it. If he can sit around reading his books or window shopping in a small rural town, he'll be on top of the world.

König HATES planes. Being 6'10 makes the small spaces difficult. So, expect to be on a train or something much less cramped to get to your destination. He loves to hike and he's very intense about sunscreen use. Expect for him to be making sure you reapply it every two hours and no swimming until it's fully soaked in. Loves going to remote places with a small bed and breakfast. He'll be up early as usual, activities planned out in extreme detail. He has a detailed itinerary of every day. The breakfast is always set at exactly the same time, and he already has a map of the trails you’ll explore that day, marking spots along with estimated times of arrival. He likes to make the hikes an all day activity so he packs plenty of snacks for when you're out so you don't get hungry.

Price is an airport dad. He will make sure you're there several hours early. By the time you get to the check-in counter, he’s already double-checked your boarding passes, your IDs, and even your luggage tags, just in case. You’ve barely made it past security, and he’s already on the phone with the airline, double-confirming the gate and asking the attendant how early they’ll start boarding. He’s acting like he’s planning a military operation. He's basically power walking through the airport to your gate. While you’re busy teasing him, he’s already five steps ahead, securing the perfect spot to sit near the gate, ensuring you’re in an area that’s both close enough to the restrooms and far enough from the crowds. You can’t even get to your seat before he’s asking if you’ve got your passport, your phone, your charger, your headphones, he even offers you a neck pillow.

Gaz is really into the local scene. He spends weeks prior to your trip researching non-tourist spots that locals love. He says he wants an "authentic travel experience." He doesn't really go for the thrill seeking activities, he's much more of a city explorer. He's really into a chill vacation where he can just spend time with you exploring a new place. He's so organized that the whole trip goes smoothly. He has all the documents like passports, plane tickets, ID"s on hand at all times. Takes pictures of EVERYTHING. He loves to make them "artsy". Once you get home he's getting the pictures printed and putting them in a special photo album.

Soap is over the moon when it comes to vacation. He loves a good trip. He's down to go anywhere and do pretty much anything. If you want to go to a fancy resort and just sit by the pool he's more than happy, but if you want to go on a wilderness retreat he's all for it. Loves an amusement park. Even if it's crowded and the lines are long he's still having a great time. He would love trying all the different foods that are in the park. Much like Price, he is an airport dad all the way. He's the most prepared person in that airport (besides Price).

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[caoimhewrites]

Lazy Sunday

How TF 141 + König would spend a lazy Sunday with you at home

CW: None

WC: 689

Ghost listens to the soft patter of the rain against the window, the only sound in the small apartment. Ghost was stretched out on the couch, his mask still on, but the usual tension in his shoulders was gone. His hand reaches out to run his fingers through your hair gently. You shift slightly, your voice breaking the quiet. “You know, I thought you’d be more... restless.” He raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “What, you think I can't sit still?” You shrug and smile, leaning into his touch. "Can you blame me?" He smirks under his balaclava "Fair enough, Love" He pulls you into his lap and wraps his strong arms around you, his hand rubbing your side. You rest your head against his shoulder peacefully, silently listening to the rain, enjoying the rare quiet moment with Simon.

König has his large arm draped over you. Its nearly 11 and neither of you have bothered to get out of bed yet. He huffs quietly and turns his head, slotting his face into the space between your jaw and shoulder. He hums in content "Schatz, are you hungry?" You glance at the clock, the soft weight of his body pressing against yours making it hard to think straight. His voice is deep and warm, and you can feel the slight vibration of his chest as he speaks. The comfort of his presence is almost enough to make you forget everything. "Maybe a little," you murmur, running your fingers lightly along the back of his hand that rests on your waist. "But I don't want to get up." He chuckles softly, the sound resonating against your skin. "I could make you something" he offers but you shake your head. "No... no. Just stay here in bed with me" you protest tiredly, holding onto his hand tighter to keep him with you. "Whatever you want, Schatz" he mumbles into your skin.

Price was kneeling in the garden, sleeves rolled up, a focused look on his face as he carefully tended to the plants. The sun was warm, and the fresh scent of earth filled the air. You were beside him, hands in the soil as well, the two of you working in comfortable silence. "Careful with that one," Price murmured, pointing to a small sapling. "It’s a bit delicate."You nod, adjusting your grip. "I know, I know. I’m not a rookie." He chuckled softly, his eyes catching yours for a moment. "Just making sure." The sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves surround you both.

Gaz was stretched out beside you, the soft hum of the city outside blending with the quiet of the room. The sheets are tangled around your legs, and the warm glow from the bedside lamp casts a soft light across his face as he turns to look at you. "You’re quiet," he said, his voice low, teasing, but warm. He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost absent-minded as he traced the curve of your jaw. You smiled, nestling deeper into the pillow. "Just enjoying the moment." He chuckled softly, his arm slipping around you, pulling you a little closer. "We don’t get enough of these, do we?" You shook your head, closing your eyes for a moment. "Not nearly enough." He sighed, a content sound escaping him. "Well, I’m not going anywhere."

Soap sits beside you on the couch, his legs stretched out, a half-empty tea resting on the coffee table in front of you both. The TV flickered softly in the background, playing a movie neither of you were paying much attention to. His arm draped casually around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Don’t tell me you’re actually watching this,” he teased, his voice low, a grin playing on his lips as he glanced at the screen. "I swear, these movies are all the same." You chuckled, tilting your head to look up at him. “You’re just mad because they never get the explosions right.” He laughed, the sound warm and easy. "Aye, they never do," he agreed, brushing his fingers through your hair.

[caoimhewrites]

Dad Simon

Dad Simon Riley headcanons because I <3 him

CW: Brief mentions of Simon's father WC: 227

Dad Simon is a girl dad. He'll play dress up and tea party with his daughter whenever he's home from deployment. He'll even let her tie his short hair up into two little ponytails.

Dad Simon who shows up to his kids special events and performances whenever he can. He'll feel guilty for days if he can't be there. He'll be sitting up in the front row proudly

Dad Simon who never yells at his kids. His worst fear is turning into his father and he's determined to never treat his kids the way his father treated him. He's calm and collected even in those difficult moments.

Dad Simon who is the kind of dad who just stands there at the birthday parties, not wanting to socialize with the other parents but he wants to spend the time with his kids even if they are off playing.

Dad Simon who spoils his kids rotten. He'll buy them whatever they want. New stuffed animal? Done. Doesn't matter if his kids already have piles of them, he's buying them more. New dress? Expensive shoes? Doesn't matter what it is, he's getting it for them.

Dad Simon who will defend his kids against anyone who is giving them trouble. He'll teach them how to stand up for themselves against mean adults and how to fight defend themselves against any bullies.

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[caoimhewrites]

Accidental Text

How TF 141 + König & Roach react to you accidentally sending them a text meant for a friend of yours, confessing how you feel about them

CW: None

WC: 1143

Ghost: The message was still on your screen, taunting you as you stared at it in horror. Of course, the ONE time you put your feelings for Simon into words, you inadvertently pour your heart out to him. It wasn't meant for him at all. You could have sworn you clicked on your best friend's contact before typing the message. Minutes passed. Your thoughts spun in circles. Was it too late to apologize? Was it too awkward to explain? Simon was deep in a strategy meeting with the task force when his phone buzzed with your text. He pulled it out to see your name, not bothering to read the rest. It could wait until later. But, when later came, Simon found himself staring at the screen. Obviously, this text wasn't for him. That was clear enough. His heart practically shook in his chest. How was he supposed to respond to this? Admit his feelings for you? Reject you and keep shoving those feelings away like he's been doing for months? He wondered if you were aware of the mistake. Were you staring at your screen just like him, wishing that it would just disappear and you both could ignore the inevitable conversation?

König: You weren't paying attention. Why weren't you paying attention? You would never live this down. You would have to move, change your name, take on a completely new life. How on earth were you going to look König in the face now? However, König isn't even phased when he sees his screen light up with your name and the text, going into quite great detail about how you feel about him. He knew. He's known for a long time. You're not exactly good at hiding it. Plus, he knows how to read you by now. He chuckles softly, his gloved fingers brushing over the screen as he rereads the message. The truth is, he feels the same way. "I'm very flattered, Schatz" he sends in reply. You panic. Was this acceptance? Rejection? Why was he so vague like this? Before you completely lose your mind with worry, a second text pops up, "Dinner at 7?"

Price: Unfortunately for you, you had sent the text while he stood at the counter in the kitchen on base, making himself a tea. He was right in front of you. Yep, this is it for you. The embarrassment would be the end of you. You can feel time move in slow motion as you watch him reach for his phone that sat on the counter. You breathe a sigh of relief when Soap walks in, ready to ask Price a million questions, keeping him good and distracted. Price's hand falls away from the phone as he turns to look at Soap. You could take the phone. It would be so simple. Just delete the text off his phone. You could manage that... yeah, definitely. Just be quick, you think. You stand next to Price, slowly sliding your hand towards his phone as you try to make it look like you're just making yourself a tea. You freeze, heart stopping as his hand meets yours. He stares at you for a long moment, his hand on top of yours on his phone. No no no no, this can't be happening. Why did he have to reach for it right when you had a perfect opportunity? "What are you doin' there?" He asks, raising his eyebrow at you. Yeah, you're not talking yourself out of this one.

Gaz: He felt the world slow down as he reread it, and then, with a rush of adrenaline, reality hit. He was basically jumping out of his chair. You? HIM? As far as he is concerned this is the best day of his life. He doesn't care in the slightest that this text is not meant for him. That this isn't some great love confession, meant to be romantic and sweep him off his feet. It was an accident. But, Kyle has never been happier about an accident in his life. A confession is still a confession after all. He'll take what he can get. He moves like lightning as he pulls his shoes on in an almost frantic scramble, his hands trembling with nerves. He needs to see you. Needs to talk to you. Now. His car is in the shop, he'll have to walk to your place. But, Kyle can't bring himself to care. He's dashing down the street, hoping that you still haven't noticed that you sent the text to the wrong person and try to back out of the confession. The thought of you retracting the message made his stomach twist, but he pushed that aside. He was going to see you now. Right now.

Soap: Soap stared at his phone, his brow furrowing as he read the message that had just appeared on the screen. It wasn’t from a work contact or anything urgent, just a text from you. You two had exchanged banter before, of course, but never anything that made his heart do that annoying flip. You were just his cute neighbor that he may or may not have a massive crush on. He blinked at the message again, his eyes scanning the words once more "I think I might actually like John. A lot. Like, too much." For a moment, he just stood there, the weight of the phone in his hands suddenly feeling heavier than usual. There was a brief pause before he set the phone down carefully, his heart racing as he let out a shaky breath. You meant to send that to someone else. It was obvious. No doubt about it. And yet… he couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought of you feeling the same way.

Roach: He’d offered to pick you up after your shift. Just a favor, nothing more, and he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved to see you finally walking toward him. He smiled, leaning off the car and preparing to greet you, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Roach blinked at the message on his phone, his eyes scanning the words once, then twice. He couldn’t help but smile, a grin tugging at his lips despite the disbelief that settled in his chest. It was a mistake, he could tell but by the look on your face, he knew you were still unaware of your little accident. He just stared at you for a moment, a habit he had that drove you crazy. It always felt like he was reading every thought, pulling out every secret from your brain. "What?" you asked worriedly, your heart beating a bit faster. Why was he looking at you like that? "Nothing," he signs and opens the door for you. He'll tell you about your mistake, but not yet.

[caoimhewrites]

Undying Ground (Pt1)

When the sickness came and the world crumbled around you, you hadn't expected to make it this far, especially not with an ex lieutenant with a skull mask

CW: mentions of death, post apocalyptic world, canon typical violence, injury, grief, zombies (mentioned) WC: 1.8k

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader. Reluctant allies to lovers

Series Masterlist → here

A/N- this takes place in the southern US because idk anything about England so lets just pretend that Simon was stationed there when the infection spread

The summer heat blazed mercilessly overhead, the relentless sun casting its harsh rays down upon you. The pavement of the long-abandoned highway seemed to pulse with the heat, the black asphalt radiating waves of burning warmth beneath your sock-clad feet. The ground beneath you felt like an unforgiving furnace, each step sending a sharp discomfort through your soles. You had lost your shoes days ago, a casualty of the night when a horde of infected descended upon your small camp. It had been you, Vivienne, and a fragile sense of peace, shattered in an instant as the creatures tore through the camp with mindless hunger, leaving only destruction in their wake.

You hadn't had time to grab your shoes when they came gnawing at the doors and windows of the old shack you two had been using for the past 6 months. You two had gotten lucky. Finding shelter for that long with hardly any infected and no desperate scavengers coming to try and take what little you had was nearly impossible.

Now, it's just you, the road, and a sharp, pulsing pain in your side. In the chaos of your escape, a jagged, rusted nail had torn through your skin. The antibiotics had been in Vivienne's bag. Now they're probably under the feet of hundreds of infected, mashed into the mud along with your memories of her. You had met Vivienne just weeks after the beginning. You were both on your own and in need of someone. No one could survive alone with millions, billions even of infected running around.

The past few days alone and with an untreated injury, one measly knife to catch dinner, and burning feet was insufferable. The only thing keeping you walking was the fear of the infected catching up and taking a bite out of you.

A tidal wave of relief washes over you as the soft murmur of a running creek reaches your ears, its gentle, soothing sound cutting through the tension in your chest. Without a moment's hesitation, you dash toward the water. You hadn’t had the luxury of a proper cleanse since the day you fled the ravaged shack, and the cool embrace of the creek feels like salvation itself, a balm for your raw, scalding skin.

The water is a welcome relief as you plunge in, the chill of it stark against the heat of your body, washing away the layers of grime and sweat that have clung to you. The blood, too, is scrubbed from your skin, a necessary ritual. For the infected, blood is an invitation. The infected are drawn to it like moths to a flame.

You scrape away the dirt from your clothes, but deep down, you know it’s a futile effort. No matter how many times you try, the world always seems to find a way to soil you again. Dirt clings to you like an old companion, never letting go, no matter how hard you scrub. But still, you wash and you rinse.

This had been your routine for five years now. Five years of running, hiding, fighting the hollow husks that used to be people, their pale, ghastly faces gnawing and growling as they made a meal out of whatever or whoever got too close. Five years of scavenging for all the things you used to take for granted. The grocery stores had been one of the first things to be cleared out when everything started, making resources scarce.

As the sun begins to slip behind the trees, finally granting some relief from the blistering heat, you tie some strings with empty cans around some trees and make camp in the small circle. If any infected tried to get into your small makeshift camp, the clanking of the cans would wake you up with hopefully enough time to take out any infected or get out of there if there were too many to fight on your own.

Sleep comes easily after so many long days spent walking, each mile blending into the next beneath blistered feet and a sun that never seems to wane. You think you're somewhere in Alabama, maybe Tennessee. It’s hard to say for sure anymore. The borders have blurred, just like everything else. Most of the road signs are rusted beyond recognition or lying twisted in ditches.

The gentle babble of the creek wraps around you like a lullaby, its rhythm steady and soothing. Your body, worn and heavy with exhaustion, sinks into the dirt as your eyes grow heavy. The tension that usually coils in your chest loosens, and you drift slowly, irresistibly into sleep.

You don't hear the quiet shuffle of footsteps through the underbrush. You don’t stir as the sound of something or someone moves closer. On any other night, your instincts would have kicked in fast. You would’ve bolted upright, hand on your knife before you were fully awake. But not tonight. Tonight, you're too far gone.

Your eyes pop open when you feel a hand over your mouth. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark, unable to make out the details of the figure kneeling over you.

---

You remember exactly where you were when the world came crashing down around you in seconds. You were spending the summer with your grandmother in North Carolina. The air was warm, the kind of summer heat that wraps around you like a soft, weighty blanket, and you found yourself mindlessly flipping through the endless parade of channels on the old television in the corner.

The smell of her freshly baked berry pie from the berries you two had gotten up early to pick wafted through the house. "Baby, can you put on that little show you were showin' me yesterday? I like that funny young man. The one with the aliens," she requested softly as she puttered into the room and patted your arm.

"You wanna watch X-Files, Mawmaw?" You chuckle and find the proper channel. Navigating her TV was always a challenge. She refused to get any streaming services, set in her ways of good old fashioned cable.

"I like that... wolf boy," she giggles as she settles in.

"Wolf? Mawmaw, do you mean Fox? His name is Fox," you let out a stream of uncontrollable giggles. "You've got the hots for Fox Mulder?" Before you can keep teasing her, the TV flashes with an emergency warning, its bright red letters stark against the soft lighting of the living room.

"This is a national emergency. Please stay tuned for important information." The voice on the screen was calm, almost too calm, but something about it made your skin crawl.

"What the devil is this now?" Your grandmother stands and shuffles over to the TV.

"We interrupt your regular programming to bring you breaking news," the anchor's voice trembled just slightly. "This is not a drill. Multiple reports are coming in of unusual, and unexplainable, events taking place across the country. Please stay indoors and avoid contact with the public. Authorities will provide further instructions shortly."

She strikes the TV screen a few times, a habit she’d picked up over the years whenever it started acting up. Her wrinkled hand lands with a thud, the familiar sound filling the room as she mutters under her breath. 'Mawmaw, that won't do anything. It’s not broken,' you say gently, trying to reason with her, but your words are abruptly silenced by a spine-chilling screech that echoes from outside. Before you can even register what’s happening, the front door suddenly bursts off its hinges with a deafening crash. A group of strangers, their eyes as white as marble and their faces frozen in eerie, vacant expressions, rush into the room with unnatural speed, their slack jaws hanging as they move like something not quite human.

---

The skull of the infected holding onto you is all you can see. Panic surges through your chest like a lightning strike, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your instincts scream at you to fight, to flee, to do something, but you’re frozen. You've been in close contact with them plenty of times but it never became less terrifying. Their rotting flesh and gnashing jaws always sending fear straight into your soul.

Then it speaks.

“What are you doing here?” it growls, voice low and rough like gravel in its throat. Your body goes still.

That sound, those words, they don’t belong to the infected. They can’t. The infected don’t talk. They scream, they moan, they howl. They don’t ask questions. They don’t think. Your heart stutters. Your eyes go wide. And suddenly, what you’re looking at changes.

The skull isn’t flesh and bone, it’s a mask. The rot you thought you saw is just dirt and dried blood smeared across worn fabric. The hands holding you aren’t cold and rigid, they’re warm. Human. This isn’t an infected. It’s a man.

"I asked you a question," he growls, eyes wild and blazing in anger and defensiveness.

You blink up at him, caught off guard, your mind scrambling for something to say. "I'm sleeping," you manage, your voice shaky but laced with sarcasm you hadn’t meant to let slip.

His jaw tightens. He pulls you closer, not in comfort, but in warning. His grip firmer now, a silent show of dominance cloaked in irritation.. "What are you doing on my property?" he bites angrily, his words accusing and bitter.

“Your property?” you snap, eyes narrowing at him. Who was this guy? Who was he to wake you up, grab you and act like you’re trespassing on some made up property line. “You own the trees or something?” 

“You’re damn right I do” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His voice is steel-wrapped, unyielding.

You stare at him, searching for any hint that he might be joking. But there’s no humor in his face, just fire and suspicion. You’re still trying to catch your breath, heart hammering from the scare, and now you’ve got to deal with a lunatic who thinks he owns the wilderness? You would take a dozen infected over this freak any day.

“You can’t own the forest,” you argue, trying to sound firm, even though your legs are still trembling. “There’s no fences, no signs. Just trees. Last I checked, that doesn’t scream ‘private property.’”

There’s a long, tense silence. The man watches you like he’s still deciding whether you’re a threat or just a pest. You can feel him sizing you up, your gear (or lack thereof), your posture, the wear in your boots. He sees something in you that keeps him from turning away, and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing. "This is my property, and you're trespassing."

Finally, he exhales, sharp, and irritated. Before you can so much as flinch, his movement is a blur. Pain blossoms at the edge of your skull, and then... nothing. The world vanishes into darkness.

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

This is shorter than I wanted it to be but the next chapters will be longer

[caoimhewrites]

First Sight

How TF 141 + König react when meeting you for the first time

CW: canon typical mentions of injury/combat

WC: 831

Ghost hides his reaction effortlessly. The balaclava makes it easy. He's not one for romance or any form of relationship but he's intrigued by you. His eyes don't leave you for the entire conversation. He stares unblinking at you as you talk and interact with the team. He hardly says a word to you besides a few gruff words and grumbles. He would chalk it up to analyzing you or deciding if he can trust you if anyone was to ask but really he just likes looking at you. He won't admit that to himself... yet.

König meets you on a mission. You're the enemy... or at least you're supposed to be. He's ready to fight, and he knows he would win even with the bullet in his side. For some reason, one he can not even figure out himself, he just stares up at you as you stand over him. You weren't the one to injure him. It was your partner who's now incapacitated on the ground. He doesn't understand why you won't just take him out right here or as to why he won't get up to fight you. When you kneel down and reach out for him, bandages in hand he draws his knife. Although, he knows he won't use it. He finds himself putting the knife down as you shoot him a stern look and begin to bandage him up. "Was machst du?" He asks in a pained voice. "Helping... König" You reply and glance up at his masked face. His eyes widen in surprise as you say his name. How did you know? He'll have to ask you when you both get out of here.

Price sees you across the bar on a night out with his men. He's immediately struck by you. He's never seen anyone so attractive. Price doesn't date much, never having time or simply not caring at this point in his life but he can't help but approach you. He cuts Soap off mid sentence as he stands and strides over. You glance up at him with a smile that doesn’t just light up your face but somehow makes the entire room feel warmer. For a second, Price wonders if he’s said something ridiculous and didn't realize it. He feels his chest tighten as your eyes meet. "You’re staring, soldier," you tease lightly, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes, but the hint of softness in your voice tells him you're not just playing. Whatever he's feeling for you, you feel it too. Price clears his throat, trying to regain the edge of composure he's used to carrying. “Aye, just... wasn’t expecting you to be quite so... captivating.”

Gaz hears the sound of your keys scraping against the door handle echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway as you unlock your new apartment. You had just moved all your things into the usually vacant apartment right beside his. He stands there for a second just observing you. You look over at him and give him a polite, neighborly smile. He smiles right back, always the gentleman. For a brief moment, Kyle considers just walking away. It’s late, after all, and you probably have a thousand things to unpack. But there's something about your presence that keeps him glued in his spot in the hallway. He only looks away when your door closes. The next day you hear a knock at the door. When you open the door, Kyle is standing there. "Need a hand with anything?" Kyle asks, the words leaving his mouth almost before he realizes it. "I'm Kyle. I'm in the flat next door... number 208" He smiles and extends his hand. "Oh yeah... the man who was staring at me ominously last night" You chuckle as you shake his hand. He already knows he's going to really like you.

Soap is standing in the brightly lit aisle in the grocery store, browsing the different types of ramen. He never understood why there were so many. He feels a presence beside him, he turns to see you standing there, just as lost as him. “D’you have a favorite?” he asked, his voice warm, laced with a Scottish accent that immediately made you pause. You laughed lightly. “I usually just grab the cheapest one, but now I’m thinking I might want to actually enjoy it tonight.” He smirks and chuckles. His eyes drift to your clothing, taking you in. As his gaze lingered, he found himself a little too curious—wondering if you always got so caught up in small decisions, or if this was a one-off moment, like him. He has a desire to get to know you despite you having said very little to him. He moves slightly closer, smile on his face. "I heard there's a new ramen place just down the street. Maybe I should take you there instead. Maybe the choice will be easier" He looks at you, hoping you will take him up on his offer.

[caoimhewrites]

Trespass

(Undying Ground Pt2)

Some unexpected help from the masked stranger leaves you confused and dwelling on your past and this strange mans motives

CW: mentions of death, post apocalyptic world, canon typical violence, injury, grief, zombies (mentioned) WC: 2.4k

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader. Reluctant allies to lovers

Series Masterlist → here

A/N- Simon being ominous yayyyyy

Your head is pounding. Your skull feels like shattered glass has buried itself into the crevices of your brain. You try to open your eyes only to be blinded by the light coming through the window. At least you think it's a window. The blur in your vision and pain in your skull make it hard to tell.

It takes you a few more minutes of blinking for your vision to clear and the sight of the room to come into focus. You're in a small wooden cabin. One of those cabins that's been hand built but still much nicer than the humble shack you shared with Vivienne. The memory of her still burns, like a spark in your chest, quickly catching and burning your lungs from the inside. You push the thought away as you take in more of your surroundings.

Your eyes drift across the room. Everything appears to be handmade. Wooden chairs, a table, even the single bed frame pressed against the wall furthest from where you lay… all hand built. Quite well made, in fact. The sunlight, still slightly blinding, comes in through the singular window perched above the counter in what must be the makeshift kitchen.

You can't be bothered to will yourself up off the small cot pressed against the cold timber wall, the ache in your body debilitating. A deep sigh rolls through your lungs, the silence of the room making anxiety curl into your heart.

The creak of the door and the sound of heavy, stomping boots makes you shoot up. The cut in your side burns as you move. On instinct you reach for your knife, only to feel that it's gone. Of course, you should have known. The skull faced "private property" lunatic must have taken it. You see now just how big he really is. A behemoth of a man. He's at least 6'4, his massive frame is forged from years of relentless training and hardened discipline. The only bit of skin you can see is around his brown eyes. His clothing, all black. "You're awake," is all he says as he tosses a few rabbits he caught for food onto the simple wooden table.

"What do you want from me?" Your tone is wary and guarded. You've run into plenty of people who were hardly clinging to sanity and this terrifying man is no different. Your eyes follow his movements carefully, watching for any sign of a threat. His eyes lock with yours as he stalks towards you, chair in hand. The legs scrape against the ground, a grating screech. His eyes bore into yours as he sits, leaning forward to get an even closer look at your face.

"You were trespassing." He says it so flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Trespassing?" You ask, keeping your tone guarded.

"Trespassing," he echoes flatly, dark eyes narrowing like a blade being honed to a point. "What are you doing here?"

You swallow, but your throat is dry, like dust has settled there, thick and choking. “I wasn’t trespassing. I was sleeping.”

He tilts his head quizzically, studying you like a wolf watching a rabbit. "Sleeping, huh? And why should I believe that?"

“I didn’t know anyone lived out here,” you go on, slower now. "I'm just passing through."

"You didn't say why I should believe you," he says in the same flat, almost menacing voice. You can't blame him entirely for not believing you. Anyone will lie to anyone to get what they want. Ever since the world went to shit, no one could trust anyone. Even your allies could become your enemy when infected came around or food ran low.

You adjust your posture, instinctively leaning away from the masked man as unease coils in your gut. The chill of the wall seeps through your clothes as your back presses against the cold, damp wall. “For all I know,” he says, his voice low and edged with suspicion, “you’re just waiting for the right moment to knock me out, strip me of my weapons, and leave me here as bait for the infected. That way I won’t be able to follow you when you run.”

You swipe your tongue over your chapped, sunburned lips. "I lost my camp to a horde. I was just trying to sleep... honest." Your voice comes out more shaken than you intended, betraying your unease about the masked stranger.

"Hmmm," he hums pensively, fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh. "Quite the set up you had out there with the cans. Clever." Relief runs through your veins when he leans back in his chair, seeming to believe you. The wood creaks slightly under his weight. Neither of you speak for what feels like several minutes, the silence pressing down on you.

He finally speaks, voice quiet and low, like a sound not meant to travel far.

“How long?”

You blink, confused. “How long what?”

A pause.

“How long you been alone?”

The question hangs in the air, heavier than the silence that came before it. Your chest tightens before you answer, "six days." That’s all. You don’t offer anything more. No details, no context. He doesn’t ask, and you’re grateful for it.

He asks your name, eyes watching you closely. For a moment, you hesitate, the thought of lying flashing through your mind, wondering if giving him the truth is a mistake. But after a beat, and with a sigh that betrays your uncertainty, you give it anyway.

All he gives is a curt nod, "Ghost."

---

The fire is warm and comforting against your wet skin. You hear Vivienne moving behind you, the sound muffled and distorted. The blanket over your shoulders is heavy.

Vivienne's voice echoes in your head, the words indistinguishable. You close your eyes and try to focus, but the syllables slip through your grasp like water through cupped hands. The shadows of the fire dance in distorted figures across the walls.

The wind blowing outside morphs into the cries and snarls of the infected. Vivienne's fingers curl into your hair. You try to turn, but the weight of the blanket pulls you down, holds you there. Her ghostly grip tightens in your hair.

The cold of her hands seeps into your skin, destroying the warmth and comfort that the fire had brought you. Her breath is a ghost on the back of your neck.

"They're coming. They're at the door"

Her raspy, broken voice echoes through the shack. Your body frozen in place, limbs locked. You feel the racing of your heart, feel it pounding on your rib cage like it wishes to break free from your body.

The howling of the infected grows deafening as Vivienne vanishes like blown smoke. The door shakes and cracks, darkness from outside creeping in.

You jolt awake, the ghostly dream of your friend fading, but lingering at the forefront of your mind.

The masked man, who you've come to know as Ghost doesn't say much to you in the days that follow. Not that you're conscious for most of it anyway. The cut in your side had gotten infected, and the fever that came with it left you drifting in and out of consciousness. Ghost didn't do much to help you, only lending a hand if he absolutely had to. He keeps you fed with just the scraps from his own meals.

"You'll be out of here when you're better."

You spend much time debating why he would bother taking you in the first place if he's going to hardly patch you up and send you out on your own again. In your rare moments of lucidity you notice him watching you, studying you as if you would jump up and get him at any second. Even in your best state, taking down this mountain of a man would be a ridiculous thought. His gaze always lingers, boring into you like he can see your insides.

"Here," he grumbles as he unceremoniously drops a plate of food onto your lap. It's a measly meal, scraps of rabbit and a few small potatoes, but enough to keep you going.

This was the routine. Food scraps when you're awake, one or two grumbled words, and his suspicious stare. He seemed to believe your story, what little information you gave him at least, but trust did not seem to come along with it.

You eat slowly, careful not to make a mess, even though your hands tremble with weakness, sleep and delirium still lingering. Ghost doesn’t sit. He stands by the window, arms crossed, the lower half of his mask lifted just enough for a bite of the rabbit he caught today. You wonder what he looked like under it. All you can see is pink lips and a strong jaw. The mystery of him is quite intriguing. A man all alone in what seems to be a hand-built cabin with game readily available was interesting enough, but the mask and reluctance— no, inability to hold a conversation with you only made him more fascinating. You never dare to ask him any questions though. His piercing stare and indiscernible motive kept you quiet. 

“You should change that bandage,” he mutters, eyes flicking to the old bandages over the cut on your side.

You nod stiffly, “I will.” You had to ration the small amount of supplies you had managed to grab in your escape. Ghost made it clear several times that your supplies were yours and his were his. No sharing. Supplies were scarce, painfully so. You couldn’t really blame him for being frugal with what he had. He even refused to help you change your bandages, even if you were tired and weak. He would wait until you were awake, hurl your bag at your feet and stalk off to hunt or at least that's what you imagine he’s doing. 

You haven't heard the wails or gnashing of teeth in the few feverish days you have spent here. Wherever you were, whatever he was doing was keeping them away.

Ghost stands still as he watches you, having pulled his mask back down over the bottom of his face. You shift your weight, testing the ache in your side. It’s still there, sharp and insistent, but manageable. Ghost doesn’t speak again, just watches. Always watching. The silence claws at you. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t look away. Maybe it’s because it makes you feel like prey. 

You lick your lips. “You could try being a little less creepy, you know.”

“I’m not the one galavanting around looking like an infected on a strangers property,” he argues, head tilting slightly.

Your eyes narrow at him, “I was trying to sleep. You brought me inside. You could have just left me there.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t agree either. Just turns away, stepping toward the counter. He picks up a small, battered canteen. He tosses it to you without looking. You catch it clumsily, nearly spilling the contents as the lid jostles loose.

“Drink,” he mutters.

“Thanks,” you say before you can stop yourself. The word feels strange in your mouth, like it doesn’t belong in this space. You drink eagerly, having run out of your own water supply two days ago. 

You hug your arms around your torso, suddenly cold. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet?” The question lingers in the air between you, more dangerous than you intended.

Ghost doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. “Still deciding.”

Your brow lifts, curiosity fighting with your frustration. “Deciding what, exactly?”

Another pause. This one feels longer. Like he’s thinking about something, but the mask makes it impossible to read. He makes no move to reply to you, leaving the question hanging. 

You let out a frustrated sigh. Of course he won’t answer. Passing the canteen back to him, you speak again, “You have something against answering questions or something? You don’t have to be so… cryptic all the time.”

His expression, at least what you can see, doesn't change. He lets out an unimpressed huff, “I could kick you out right now. The infected will like you a whole lot more than I do.”

“God, alright… dramatic,” you murmur to yourself, rolling your eyes. 

After many minutes of tense silence, Ghost speaks, “You talk in your sleep. Who’s Vivienne?” His tone is stern and accusatory. Your entire body stiffens as if the mere sound of the name has reopened a wound you'd barely managed to scar over. 

You turn to face him, your voice strained and defensive. “Why do you care? She’s none of your business.”

He takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering beneath the mask, and replies with quiet intensity, “I’m making it my business.”

You let out a bitter breath, swallowing down the emotion clawing its way up your throat. “We were friends,” you say, the words clipped. “Happy now?”

You had lost Vivienne only nine days ago now but the memory of her is already slipping from your brain like a slow leaking faucet. The nightmares are a strange comfort. At least in them you can hear her voice again, even if it’s muffled and distorted. But, you won’t share any of this with Ghost. He’s not your friend and once you’re healed, you’re getting the hell out of here. He was merciful enough to let you heal in his cabin, not leaving you to run into some strong nosed infected, but he is not your friend, not your confidant. 

“Satisfied,” he nods, “We’ve all lost people.” He taps his foot for a moment as if he’s debating his next move. “You were clever.”

You blink. “What?”

“With the cans on the trees. It was… clever.” He admits it almost begrudgingly, like it pains him to compliment you, like the acknowledgement will cost him something.

“Thanks?” you offer, unsure whether to feel flattered.

He looks like he’s about to say more but he stops himself. Whatever it was getting swallowed. He opts to grab a roll of his own bandages and toss them at you. “Only use a little.”

“I have my own.” You set the bandages off to the side, hand shaking weakly, betraying how worn down you really are. 

“Not enough,” he reminds you and stalks off to the back of the cabin where his bedroom is. 

Still deciding.

The words echo in your head as you shakily clean your side, replacing the borderline decrepit bandages. Still deciding what? 

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs

[caoimhewrites]

Dad Price

Loved doing Dad! Simon headcanons and couldn't get Dad! Price out of my mind

WC: 243

Dad Price who is the kind of dad who says he doesn't want to watch your show/movie with you but will stand with his arms crossed behind the couch watching anyway. He'll slowly migrate to the couch where he sits and watches the whole thing in silence.

Dad Price who tries to scare off any romantic interests that you bring home. Will stand there, arms crossed looking absolutely terrifying to the poor guy you bring to dinner. He will just stare at him from across the table, not blinking to be extra disturbing.

Dad Price who always does that one specific dad sneeze. The whole house SHAKES when he sneezes. He always does it several times in a row, scaring everyone in the house.

Dad Price who is soooooooooooo dramatic when he teaches you how to drive. He's acting like you're going to drive off a cliff when you're literally just in a parking lot going 15mph. He's gripping the door and yelling for you to go slower.

Dad Price who never remembers your friends names. Doesn't matter how long they have been your friends, he won't remember their names. You could tell him a million times and he still won't remember.

Dad Price who spends HOURS in the hardware store and always drags you along with him. Explains everything even if you don't care. The fun side is he will push you around on those big carts meant to haul wood.

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs

[caoimhewrites]

König and the "what are we" talk. How does the Austrian handle that question of defining your relationship?

König is a very straightforward guy. He's very honest about how he feels about things with the people he's close with. Not that he's one to throw his feelings around. "What are we?" is the kind of question he doesn't have a problem asking or answering. If he's the one asking, it means he already knows how he feels. He's not asking because he's confused, he’s asking because he wants clarity. To him, that question isn’t a trap or a test; it’s a checkpoint. And if you’re the one asking, he’s going to answer honestly, maybe even more blunt than you were expecting. He'll tell you exactly how he feels about you and what he hopes will come out of your relationship.

[caoimhewrites]

Hallllo! I LOVE your missing series and was wondering if you could do a part three where tf141 + König finally find their daughter?

Missing Pt3

I wasn't planning on doing a part 3 for my Missing drabbles but you've motivated me to actually get around to doing it. Thanks for the request! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Pt1, Pt2

CW: mentions of kidnapping, canon typical violence (kinda), cute father/daughter reunions WC: 1.1k

A/N- I put the translations for König's section at the bottom of the post

Ghost stalked through the halls silently, sticking to the shadows. He feels like he's checked every inch of this stupid base looking for you, but still... nothing. A muffled cry makes him freeze in his tracks, heart in his throat. He pivoted, eyes narrowing as he followed the sound like a bloodhound. Down a flight of metal stairs, to a reinforced door. You're on the other side. He knows it. His boot slams into the door repeatedly, sending it flying off its hinges on the fifth hit. Your head snapped up at the sound, wild-eyed. You sat on the floor in the corner, shrinking away from him. Confusion and concern floods his system as he looks down at you for a moment. Oh... you don't recognize him, he realizes. Ghost’s heart cracked. He hadn't expected that. He should have really. He never wears the mask in front of you, too worried he'll frighten you. “It’s okay,” he said quickly, voice low, the gentle tone he always uses only with you. Your eyes flickered. That voice. You stared at the mask. Confused, searching. He throws himself to his knees in front of you, ignoring the sting. Without thinking, he rips the mask off, revealing his face to you. Your lips parted in a shaky gasp. “…Dad?” “Yeah, love. It’s me,” he murmurs as he cuts your bindings, hands trembling. “I’ve got you now.” He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It's a little too tight but you don't care.

König was a terrifying sight in any normal circumstance, but now? He could make the toughest of men crumble into dust out of pure terror. He's been searching for three weeks to bring you home and he's finally within arms reach. You stared at the towering figure blocking the doorway. Black combat gear and that hood casting shadows over his face. You feel your entire body shake as you stare up at him with eyes so wide you swear they might pop out. The horrified scream you let out breaks his heart. Never once had you reacted like this to him, he doesn't understand it. “Geh weg von mir!" you shriek at the top of your lungs, unable to recognize your father in all his gear and frightening hood. He knelt slowly, setting his rifle aside, palms open in front of him. “Es ist okay,” he said gently, his voice impossibly soft. “Ich werde dir nicht weh tun.” You shook your head, unsure. “Wer... Wer bist du?” He slowly pulls the hood up, careful to not scare you away, the last thing he wants to do is scare you more than he already has. "Papa?" You whisper, almost in disbelief. “Ich dachte-” your voice cracked. “Ich dachte, du kommst nicht” He cups your face in his large hands and pulls you close, “Ich habe nie aufgehört zu suchen,” he whispered into your hair as he pulls you up into his arms, his embrace crushing. “Nicht für eine Sekunde." After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His gloved hand brushed a bit of dirt from your cheek. “Dir ist kalt,” he said softly. “Lass uns dich hier rausbringen”

Price had been searching for three weeks. Twenty-one days of dead ends, sleepless nights, and silence on the other end of the line. He calls you every night even though he knows your phone is sitting in evidence somewhere. Ghost's voice crackles in his ear from his comms but he doesn't listen. He was so close just minutes ago, he SAW them there. He's had to resort to traveling farther into the shipping yard, towards the old rundown building he had seen your captors in through the window. He's crouched behind a large stack of crates when he hears sniffling no more than 30 feet away. It's you. He knows it. He's heard that sniffling more times than he can count, always offering you tea and gentle hugs as comfort. "Love," he whispers as he moves closer to the source of your sniffles. "Love, you over here?" He squints to get a better look through the crates. He sees your eyes peek out at him. "Dad?" Your eyes widen in shock, not expecting to see him in your escape attempt. "It's me, Love. I'm here," He whispers as he pushes the crates aside, taking your hand in his and kissing your forehead. "How- What-" You stammer clumsily, still in shock at seeing him. You had expected to run through the wilderness for a few days, find a phone and call him, but this is much more of a relief.

Gaz was injured. Not terribly but enough to make his search painful and tiring. He had found you in the basement of the enemy's safe house, peeking out at him, eyes watery and wide. The pain in his side didn’t stop him from crossing the room in two quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. He gathered you into his arms without hesitation, heart pounding with relief and lingering anxiety. It didn’t stop him from carrying you out, either. Even as adrenaline faded and every muscle in his body protested, he held you tight, kept his pace steady as he made it to the extraction point. He didn’t complain. Didn’t flinch. Not once. The chopper blades whipped cold air around them, slicing through the autumn night. You were still wearing the same clothes from weeks ago. Fine for mid-September, but the October chill bit at your skin cruelly. He even ignored the pain as he bundled you up in his jacket. He rubbed at your arms in an attempt to warm you quicker. “You’re alright now,” he said softly, lips close to your temple so you could hear him over the noise. “I’ve got you. We're going home."

Soap's breath came heavy, boots sinking into sand as he approached the structure. His intel had better be right this time. He's had too many false leads and dead ends. He can't be wrong this time. He kicked the door in with one swift motion. Inside, the heat didn’t let up. His eyes swept the dim interior, rifle up and ready. Then he hears it. A whimper, soft and muffled. Soap’s heart jumped and stuttered in his chest. He whipped his head around, his eyes finding yours as you hid behind a few boxes. "Dad? You... You're here." Your voice cracked as you spoke. It had been several weeks and you were starting to think he might not be able to find you all the way out here. Your face is dirt smeared and sweaty as he quickly throws himself towards you, wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses your cheek gently, not caring about the grime, "I'm here, Love. I'll always be here." You tighten your arms around him impossibly tighter. He returns the gesture, taking a moment to appreciate it. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

geh weg von mir - get away from me Es ist okay - It's okay Ich werde dir nicht weh tun - I won't hurt you Wer bist du - Who are you Ich dachte, du kommst nicht - I thought you weren't coming Ich habe nie aufgehört zu suchen - I never stopped searching Nicht für eine Sekunde - Not for a second Dir ist kalt - You're cold Lass uns dich hier rausbringen - Lets get you out of here

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[caoimhewrites]

Ok I wanted to share this with you since we both love Dad!Simon. Simon playing hide and seek with his kid(s) and it looks like this:

https://m.youtube.com/shorts/p69pWPqNjvw

Laughed my ass off watching the video and thought of Simon as the Dad immediately.

This is literally Simon with his daughter!! He's gotten so good at staying hidden so he's a hide and seek champion. It also helps that his daughter doesn't turn around when looking for him. I can just imagine him, the ridiculously tall man that he is, pressed up against the wall, being so obvious as his daughter looks for him. He's trying so hard not to laugh as she just stands there all confused.

[caoimhewrites]

Missing

how TF 141 + König react to you, their daughter going missing. Read Pt 2 here and Pt 3 here

CW: Mentions of kidnapping, surveillance (kinda), canon typical violence (mentions). Nothing crazy really but reader beware obvi

WC: 791

Ghost does not play about the people he cares about... especially you. It's been just you and him for years and when you disappear he absolutely loses it. He is DETERMINED to hunt down whoever took you. Doesn't matter how far they've taken you because he will be there the instant he figures out where you've gone. Gets the 141 to help him look and he spends day in and day out pouring over files and ANY information that could give him a clue on where you are. The other 141 boys try to keep him out of it, telling him this is too personal for him but he doesn't care at all. He will be leading this mission if it's the last thing he does.

König has had cameras in and out of the house for YEARS. He's been a soldier for a very long time and has seen A LOT so he's very very very serious about your constant safety. He regularly checks your phone and keeps tabs on who you interact with. Which is why he's so surprised when you disappear without a trace one day. He came home and you were just... gone. His first instinct was panic. He tore the house apart looking for you, leaving no place unchecked. When that proved useless he called EVERY contact in your phone. Yes he kept a list. He's right back to panic when no one knows where you are. He wastes no time searching through your room and all electronics. He'll take whatever clue he can when it comes to finding you. Just like Simon, he will be up 24/7 looking for you. Sleep means nothing to him until you are back home safe. When he finds you, trust he will be ruthless to anyone who tries to stop him or hurt you. He's carrying you out of there himself and he won't let you go until you're back home.

Price, when he sees your empty bedroom and phone on your nightstand he's immediately ready to do something crazy. Price is dad of the year... obviously, so protecting you is his main job. Forget being a soldier, you're priority #1 always. He blames himself at first, thinking he never should have left you alone, should have been even more involved than he already is, if that's even possible. He's banned from leading the search for you which eats him alive. He knows he's too close to all of this and being involved could end badly but he can't handle not knowing anything. He has the 141 boys secretly give him any updates on you. Is it allowed? Fuck no. Does he care? Absolutely not, not even a little bit. He hardly eats or sleeps at all, so consumed by his worry and lingering guilt. It's obviously not his fault but he can't help but feel like it is. His brain runs in circles, creating all sorts of horrible scenarios that make him physically sick. Were you taken by someone he knows? Did they take you to get back at him? Did he accidentally reveal something about you to an enemy?

Gaz has Price in speed dial the second you don't get home. Curfew is 10, by 10:05 the entire 141 is on the search. It's like Kyle has become a different person without you. He's usually pretty collected but he's absolutely out of his mind with worry. He's impulsive and angry. Price has to rein him in several times every day until you're found. He's ready to run in, guns blazing when they finally get your location. He's snappy and impatient, lashing out when there's a dead end in their search. He's on the edge of his seat when they finally track you down and go to get you out of there. He's like a man possessed when he gets his hands on your captors.

Soap is completely devastated when you don't come home. He's always been a bit less strict than the others but when you go out with your friends and don't come home even by the next morning he's absolutely riddled with anxiety. He calls your friend but she says you never had plans with her last night and hasn't seen you in days. This sends him into a horrible dread. He feels like he's suffocating not knowing where you are. Like Price, his mind creates horrible worst case scenarios. Simon tries to remind him that they are on it and the chance of whoever took you getting very far is low but Soap is completely lost in his own head. He can't shake the feeling that he'll never see you again. Of course he will, but not even Simon can convince him.