#soap mactavish

[fludderpy]

I recently watched Gladiator II and for some reason I just want to draw men in skirt hehe (I also had a inspo for this one 🤭)

[gloomwitchwrites]

hear me out hear me out

what if the 141 men were with reader who could not lock in before sex, like they’re out here spewing FILTH and reader is unable to do anything but giggle and hide their face- not wanting it to stop, but also having no idea how to respond without their cheeks hot enough to light a flame

What a delicious prompt, anon. Sometimes you just need something a little naughty and this one hit the spot. Thank you for sending it in!! Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): established relationship, dirty talk, suggestive themes, breeding, horny behavior

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

“You hiding from me?”

You sink further into the cushions of the sofa, hiding your face from your husband. “I can’t,” you giggle, cheeks flaming.

“Thought you wanted to ride my dick until I look like a prune.”

“John!”

His tone becomes sultry. The sofa sags under his weight as he traps you beneath him. “Let me breed you. Fill you with my cum. You can lay on your back. I’ll do all the work.”

John’s large hands find your knees, spreading you wide as he settles between.  You refuse to look at him. One peek and you won’t be able to control yourself.

He grinds himself against you, his hardness stiff and apparent. “How wet are you for me? What will I find if you allow me a touch?”

You attempt to wiggle away, but John is much stronger, and far more determined. As you twist away to claw yourself out from under him, John grasps your wrists and pins them to the cushion. He grinds his erection against your ass, and this time you gasp through the giggles.

“I’ll turn that laughter into moans, love. Just spread those legs for me.”

Your cheeks flame hotter with the promise.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Wrapping you up in his arms, Johnny lifts, and then he body slams you into the top of the bed. It’s not rough or breath stealing, more like a weighted blanket falling on you that might be a bit heavier than you expected. You’re completely smushed beneath him, unable to wiggle out from under him. Johnny’s erection pokes the curve of your ass, his need apparent and insistent.

“Johnny!” you laugh, as he starts to aggressively hump you.

Johnny nips at your ear, then your throat, growling with an over-the-top snarl which only sends you further into hysterics.

“Gonna fuck me now, lass?” he asks as you stifle your giggles with the duvet.

“Stop,” you chuckle, even though you don’t want him to.

Johnny turns from humping to grinding, all the silliness in his body leaving as he expertly rocks himself against you. “Could take you like this. Face down.” Johnny’s hand comes down firmly on your butt. “Ass up.” His palms squeezes, comes down again. “Could tie you up this time. Use the spreader bar.” Your face grows even hotter. “Eat your pussy like that for hours.”

You’re unable to look at him, embarrassment and desire clashing within you.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You don’t hear the shower door opening. You aren’t even aware Simon is there until his hands fall on your hips.

“Si—” His name on your lips is cut short as he halts your attempt to turn around.

Simon presses you up against the shower wall, his muscled body a weight you cannot escape from. His hands roam downward, and then inward to between your thighs.

“Teasing me on purpose?” he asks with a hint of a growl. “Scrubbing your body down in full view of me. Touching your breasts, tempting me with glimpses of your cunt.”

Every naughty word heats your cheeks. It might be sexy as fuck but you can’t help yourself—the flustered giggle emerges unbidden.

“So you do want to fuck me,” croons Simon, grinding his dick against your ass. “Could take you up against this wall.” He lifts one leg, opening you slightly. “Or fuck you like this. Wash away the cum after. Put it all back once we get out.”

“Simon,” you hiss, smacking his arm, face heating to new heights.

“Wet,” he whispers, dipping one and then a second finger into you. “Warm.” He pumps. Once. Twice. Thrice. “And all fucking mine.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

His strong hands are vices on your hips, guiding you backward until you bump against the edge of the kitchen countertop. There is no escape. No running from Kyle when he’s determined to make you melt in his arms. The kiss is languid and slow, sending heat through your body.

“Should I take you right here? On the counter?”

It’s the devilish smirk that bites you. Already, you feel your cheeks flaming bright hot and scorching.

“Or,” he continues, “I can bend over the kitchen table. Fuck you senseless until you come around my cock.”

“Kyle!” you laugh, shoving at him, burying your face in his chest.

But Kyle isn’t done. “All that cum dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.”

The image is luscious, but his words are sending you into a giggle fit. It’s too much too fast, and though you enjoy his words, you’re unable to control yourself.

You place your hand over his mouth, and you feel his mouth form into a smile. Kyle presses in, holding your gaze. The words repeat in your head, over and over until you’re itching to run from him.

Your hand slips and Kyle makes his move. “Bend over.”

[calqkey]

mmm hambur

[lukasaurusart]

one of the pieces i did for the CoD BigBang in collaboration with @empresscirque

[arabellasfvv]

When you blow johnny and just keep gagging and choking he'll most likely laugh at you. But because you don't just let things slide–that man needs to be put in his place anyway–you pull out one of your dildos, and tell him to suck it. He laughs incredulously at first, though not totally opposedto the idea. But once he saw the expression on your face he knows you're serious. And he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Safe to say he's gagging like a bitch. Can barely take half the thing without tears stinging at his eyes. And if you're mean you tell him, "well, that's pathetic, baby." In a mocking tone. (lt makes his cock twitch dw) and if you're even meaner you decide to 'help out'. Forcing the toy down his throat with your hand. Do it over and over. Like he does when fucking your throat without consideration. He's a mess by the end, sweaty, eyes red with tears flowing from them, drooled all over the toy, down on himself like some mutt. But some time during it he came without even being touched.

He doesn't make fun of you again.

[vxv3n0m]

Price is totally the dad of the 141

THE PRICE PAT™️ | CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE II & III

[ghouljams]

Literally cannot go to the gym without thinking about Johnny scrambling to take the machine right after you. No chance to wipe it down, still warm and damp from your sweat, man is just absolutely basking in it. Can't get banned from another gym for sniffing the bench so he just follows you around the gym and sits in your sweat so he can small his shorts later and imagine that the mixed musk is something more than it is.

Also he watches you do hip thrusts waaaaay too closely. Staring down the barrel of a gun that one.

[ruiviart]

Sinking town animation meme but with ghoap hehe

[micdixart]

soap and ghost being GAY

inspired by this post https://bsky.app/profile/hyenabones.bsky.social/post/3lngg6vc7o22m

[skauni]

It’s always Gaz who witnesses the uncomfortable moments between these two😭

Ghost, during a mission that’s going badly: Right, lads. I think we are well and truly fucked

Soap, under his breath: I would be if you’d just give me a chance

Ghost: what

Soap: what

Gaz, frantically reloading: No. Nuh-uh. I’m not dying here. I refuse to let that be the last conversation I hear

[amazeingartist]

thoughts about peacock soap (idk if he’s a hybrid or a demon so pick whichever you want lol)

I can just imagine home being showing off his pristine feathers to ghost who’s just like “that’s nice Johnny”

[tojisteddy]

Sit and do Nothing with me. | cw: fluff, roommate!soap, naive!reader.

You loved those two little, cottage core amphibians like they were your lifeline, checked out all the books when you were a kid at the library, you had the claymation burned on dvd by your cousin, a little keychain on your bag, and a small framed picture on the walls of your bathroom.

So of course you’d spent your rare day off, lounging in the living room, in a oversized green hoodie, watching Frog & Toad. It comforted you, giving you that warm comfy feeling.

Johnny plops himself down on his end of the couch, getting comfortable as Toad bangs his head against the wall trying to think of a good story to tell, “Isn’t this a bit childish?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked, the butterflies of embarrassment rising in the bit of your stomach. You didn’t react though, just grabbed the remote and changed the channel before setting it on the coffee table. Lips in a thin line, biting the inside of your mouth. You two sat in silence, you barely even noticing what your vision was taking into your brain. You didn’t even realize your eyes were glossy and face was wet with tears.

Johnny quickly notices though, regret filling him to the brim— “Hey-“

“—I’m sorry. I’m bein childish.” You hiccuped, quickly standing and wiping off your tears, “I’m makin you uncomfortable.” You tired to run off to your room, knowing at least there, no one would tease you about watching something like this. But the older guy grabs your wrist just enough to get you to look back at him.

“No Bonnie, I just— ’s my fault, thought I’d tease ya a bit but it just made ya upset. I was daft, yeah? ‘M sorry bunny. I love your show.”

You sniff, “You don’t have to make up for it. I’m fine.”

“Not makin it up lass,” he quickly gets up from his seat, leaving you with a pout on your lips. He comes back, a little keychain in hand— a crochet Frog.

You fidget with your fingers where you stand, another sniffle, “What’s that about?”

“Well, some old lady was sellin ‘em the market, thought I’d get one t’remind me ‘f ye.” He can’t help the red tint that shows on his cheeks. The keychain was more than cute, and Johnny, was being more than cute.

“ ‘M sorry, Bon. Truly. Let’s watch yer show, together yeah,” he suggests, sitting down on the couch, arms wide. One side of his lips curve up, “know ye want t’cuddle swee’art, come on, just a bit.”

You rolls your eyes, wiping your eyes and caving. You squeak out, ever so cutely, “Just a bit.”

You practically throw yourself in the brutes big arms, nuzzling your head in his chest while he holds you close.

That warm, cozy feeling growing even more with each second you spend time together.

a/n: for my girls who’s comfort show is deemed “for kids” but still so enjoyable for every age. Realizing this is kinda shit after posting it😀

most recent masterlist

[tobeholyistobeempty]

is soaps mohawk aerodynamic? can he swim faster?

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Something something coming home from mass and stopping to get a coffee and a donut from the local cafe and meeting him.

Him, of course, being a blokes named Johnny. From the moment Johnny landed eyes on your clean church clothes he knew he had to get his hands on you. For completely pious and Catholic reasons of course...

[fludderpy]

Some sketches about ghosts healing journey…..

(Captain price would listen to his thoughts and calm him if he’s having bad dreams, and ghost would bond mich more with gaz imo)

(Also laswell would make him tea)

[lostintransist]

Tansy Tea for Four

Original thought here from @spookytragedyshark. All yellow lines are directly pulled from their original thought. If the yellow is hard to read, find the all black here. Shout out to @/steddiecameraroll-graphics for the dividers.

A/N: I ran out of work a half hour after I got there but couldn't go home soooooo.... Also shout out to you coders out there. Getting the color added to this fic made my eyes cross several times.

“Okay, I’ll go for Christmas.”

Simon felt the words slide off his tongue, unable to call them back. He wonders if he would hesitate looking back. If he knew that those five words would launch change at him like a manhole cover being launched into space. That was an accident. A lot of accidents led to what Christmas became that year.

Johnny sat upright, scrambling to mark the place in his novel as he stared at his lover.

Simon fought the urge to don his mask. Johnny stared at him, eyes searching for seams as to where the man might have been body snatched.

“Who are you and where is my Simon?” Johnny uses his interrogation voice.

Blinking once to process that he heard the tone he thought he did, Simon shifts as if to move toward the desk at the end of the bed. Instead, he pounced on the man lounging on his bed. Johnny let out a squawk that shifted into a groan as Simon’s weight landed.

“I am your Simon,” he bit the curve of Johnny’s neck. “I’m agreeing because you look sad when you think of missing another Christmas with your family.”

Johnny arched under him, a gasp falling into Simon’s ears. Fingers worked their way into his hair. Simon followed the command implicit in the tug and pressed his lips to Johnny’s.

“I already told my mum I wouldn’t be making it. Now it will be a surprise. You’re in charge of buying her some mead when we land,” he pushed the words into Simon’s mouth along with his tongue. “Can I tell her about you?”

Instead of answering, Simon dipped a hand below Johnny’s waist band.

When Johnny could walk again he found his phone and booked two seats home for the holidays.

The drive to his childhood home sees Johnny’s knee bouncing as his eyes never leave the road. Simon lays a hand on the thigh closest to him. The bouncing stops.

The front door stays firmly shut against the dark as Johnny parks the rented car.

“Leave your stuff, we can grab it if Mum has a room to spare. If not, we will pop down the road,” Johnny nearly levitated from the driver’s seat.

Simon walks silently behind his love, feeding the fears in his head to the demons that dogged his steps. He was doing this for Johnny. Wiping the sadness from his face was worth the weight in every step.

Without knocking Johnny throws open the front door, hollering for his mum. Simon speeds up when Johnny’s voice cuts off with a sob.

“Tansy?”

Stepping through the door Simon gently maneuvers Johnny further into the room to shut the door. He scans every face of the ten or so people dotted around the table. He lands on yours as you step into the room. You are the only face here that doesn’t claim familiarity due to linage. A touch of movement draws his gaze down to a boy, no more than four, staring at him with wide eyes.

Pieces click in his mind as he recalls why that name sounded familiar. Johnny had spoken of you, his first love, the one that got away. The one that literally disappeared. And that child looks like Soap, a Mohawk, and all. The demons in his shadows mauled him now, under the eyes of his lover’s lost love.

“Who?” The kid is pointing directly at him, unafraid, almost entranced by his soft skull balaclava.

You don’t remove your eyes from Johnny, who stands as if struck dumb, as you answer.

“Dad,” you point, “And Ghost,” you point to him now.

Johnny wouldn’t pick him now. Surely not him, not as broken as he is. Pain, sorrow, longing, it’s all hitting him rapid, like a pinball machine.

“Skully!” The child screams excitedly.

“Yes, Ghost. From the pictures.” You glance at him with your nose still in pressed against the kids face. “My darling little soldier, could you play with Mimi for a few?”

The brows pulling together under the mohawk stab at Ghost like a knife from a hidden enemy. He knows that look, has been bested by it time and again from Johnny. The kid lifts a small hand, pointing at him again.

“Later?”

“If they’re not busy with work.” You turn at the waist, setting the child on the floor within reach of Mama MacTavish.

It is not missed on Simon that you are giving them a way out.

Once your arms are free Johnny is there, filling them. He is sobbing. Simon has never heard him cry like this. It tears open the scabs that he had so carefully covered.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, yeah?” Your arm is still looped around Johnny’s waist. Simon can’t breathe beyond the squeeze in his chest.

No one speaks as you are trailed by death into the kitchen. Settling Johnny onto the stool by the stove you step back to the sink and shove your hands into your pockets. Your ears are at your shoulders and your mouth moves fast as you start to explain. Simon stands guard near the door. He can’t decide if his placement will make it easier to run or to keep Johnny’s family out while you and he talk.

“I was planning on talking to you privately but your mum said you weren’t coming for the holidays and I couldn’t stand the thought of him missing another holiday with relatives. You know how I feel about relatives.”

Johnny remembers all the times you said you wished for your kid to have a big extended family. How you cried, scared yours would pass before you had one.

“It was too difficult to contact you, so I called your mum. Bless her, she helped me run the DNA test, so I did not have to worry or bother you if I was wrong.”

“Of course, she helped with the paperwork, so it’s all set up. If anything happens to me, you’ll get him. If you can’t, it’s between my mom and Ghost ,” You nod to Ghost as you say it. His heart has to have stopped. No one would want their child under his care. You shift your gaze back to Johnny, eyes scared. “When you’ve regained the ability to talk, could you please tell me when we slept together, though?”

Johnny, as flabbergasted as he is, blurts out, “That’s not why you disappeared?”

He reaches for you. Simon hears weeping from somewhere in his mind.

“No,” you step between his spread knees, resting one hand on his cheek and the other running over his hair, inviting him to look at you. “I left because I had to. My sister had an incident. Based on your reaction, I’d say it was when I broke up with Jonathan and got messed up?”

Simon looks from you to Johnny like he was studying a painting. The colors are all drenched in his pain. Johnny looks ready to cry, guilt lifted from his soul. He had never mentioned he felt responsible for your absence. Ghost has no clue who Jonathan is or what transpired, but the pieces are there. This, whatever this is, Soap clearly never wanted to even think about again. He had never mentioned sleeping with you before your disappearance, only the shock of the loss, the longing for the friendship lost.

“We were beyond wasted that night. I don’t blame you. We’re adults, we knew better,” you offer absolution with the swipe of your fingers along his face. Simon has never seen a more intimate moment. He wants to vomit and cave in on himself until he is no longer intruding.

“I’d have come,” Johnny’s fingers are curled above your knees, pulling you closer until his chin rests on your baby softened belly. The body changed by his seed.

Vomit creeps up Simon’s throat.

“I thought he was Jonathan’s and he never wanted kids. So it took until Callum started to resemble you. That’s when I started to look for you.”

Johnny is looking at you like an angel, all reverence and awe and bursting with love.

“You named him Callum?” Johnny’s voice broke as tears filled his eyes again.

“‘It’s my favorite name, Tansy.’ The name stuck in my head even though we were thirteen.” Your hand trails from Johnny’s forehead through his mohawk, grounding yourself, Simon guesses.

Simon’s thoughts are derailed when you turn from Johnny, tears in your eyes, to pin him to the cabinet with your gaze.

“When you two become officially public, I’ll have him start calling you Bonus Dad. Seems more fitting and all.”

You’re addressing him, looking at him as the worlds leave your mouth. Fear seizes his system, his brain slows. You know. You know he and Johnny…Johnny would want you now, Simon can’t interfere with that. How does he fix this?

You move away, pacing through the kitchen. Johnny’s hand stay reaching for you, you skirt the widespread fingers with the practice of a mother avoiding sticky giggles.

“I’m not staying anywhere nearby. Actually, I’m moving again, so we’ll have to figure something out about visiting.” You glance at Simon and then Johnny, wincing as you continue, “I steamboated again, huh?”

Johnny nods, mute. Ghost is confused by the phrase, isn’t it steamrolling?

You catch the confusion in his gaze as you address him. “Oh, one more thing. Callum is interested in anything creepy, so be prepared. He’s probably going to have a lot to say about your mask…and try to climb you.”

“Same taste as his mum then?” Johnny must be recovering if he can prod at you.

You level him with a glare. Johnny grins, unrepentant. The interaction has a flavor only time can add. Simon fights to keep his teeth from grinding.

“What about the haircut?” Johnny questions, shifting to take your hand in his.

The hand not being held is banded across your ribs.

You blow out a breath, “He saw one picture of you and demanded a mohawk. Callum was two and I had been avoiding what I knew. He was your child through and through. Jonathan had been out of the picture for over a year at that point. I have pictures of him grinning with my smile as the stylist gelled his hair up for the first time. I’ve got a whole folder of photos for you.”

Silence engulfs the room. Johnny stands, lifting a hand to your cheek as he crowds into your space.

“I would like to me our son,” he whispers the words like a love confession.

You look up at Johnny and Simon can see all the love that resulted in your shared child surfacing in your eyes.

“Okay.” Your whisper barely reaches Simon’s ears.

The moment they reenter the room Callum does in fact try to climb Simon to get a better look at his mask. You effortlessly pick him up and away from Simon’s legs.

“Callum, pause. We don’t climb people without permission. Now, let’s ask. Repeat after me: Simon, will you hold me?”

Electric blue eyes, the same shade as the man Simon would happily walk into hell for, burrow under his bones.

“Simon, will you hold me?”

At his nod, Callum stretches, legs still held firm in your grip. Simon lets out a grunt as he catches the full weight of Johnny’s son. Kid got his fathers density alright.

Small hands slap either side of Simon’s face, forcing eye contact as Callum starts into a tale about his haunted teddy bears and how they can’t move because they don’t have bones. Simon nods when appropriate to show he is listening. His stomach falls into his ass as you and Johnny step further away to sit down on the love seat.

“Did you know I went as a solider for school one day?” Callum’s brows lift as if this is shocking information.

“Oh…uh..” Simon glances away seeing you and Johnny knee to knee with faces nearly touching as you show him something on your phone. “Why?”

“My Mimi gave me a picture of my dad and you. Mum hung it on my wall with tape. You looked so cool with your skull on the outside.” Callum’s face darkens as he continues, “Mum wouldn’t let me wear a skull to school.”

The laughter sealed the deal. Simon swore to himself he will protect this kid. He is too innocent, too perfect. He may not be Soap’s lover much longer, but he will be here.

Johnny looks up from your phone. Simon is still locked in eye contact with his son. My god, he had a son. You, his first love, his Tansy flower, had given him a son. The years between that dim, sweaty night and now pull on him, setting an ache in his chest. As much as he longs to take you in his arms but this is his L.T., his Simon. He can’t give up one love for another.

Callum wiggles, pushing against Simon’s chest. Bending at the waist Simon sets Callum down. He runs directly to Johnny, hands resting on Johnny’s knees as he starts in with the rapid fire words he had also used on Simon.

“Did you know you are my dad? Mum told me all about you, and Mimi has so many stories and pictures of you!”

“Hi bud, I learned today that I’m your dad.” Johnny pulled his son into a hug before setting him on a leg. “I’ve never been a dad before, what do you think a dad does?”

Pursing his lips Callum thought before answering definitively, “Tickles.”

Both your and Johnny’s brows lift and connect gazes.

“Really? Tickles?” Johnny starts in on the request. Callum’s peels of laughter fill the room.

For a few breaths, Ghost adores the interaction. How perfectly Soap takes to his son.

He tears his eyes away. No, this isn’t his place. Simon mutters something about a smoke and steps outside. Soap is enamored with Callum, doesn’t notice at first, but you do.

Silently, you follow. The MacTavish home is small, snug even and it doesn’t take long to find Simon through the windows. Giving him time, to mostly finish his cigarette, you watch him. You are not surprised that Johnny found someone solid in stature and personality. He always was drawn to people who would call him out on his bullshit. The spooky aspect of his mask didn’t hurt either. You had always been drawn to the macabre.

Stepping through the creaky door, you join Simon. It is just you two on the porch. He rubs the remainder of his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. His eyes don’t leave the horizon.

“Hey,” you say softly, “I am sorry about everything. I know it was shocking, and I have a tendency to kinda take over or uh not rant but steamboat is what we call it. It is a result of my overactive mind.” You are rubbing your neck, looking nervous, “I really want everyone to get along. Soap and his mom have a high opinion of you so—”

“He’ll be with you.” Ghost cannot for the life of him understand why you are apologizing to him. It is out of his mouth before he realizes he even opened it. “If it comes to it, he’ll choose you.”

You look up at him and blink in shock.

“The fuck he will!” Anger is not something he expected when this interaction started. Your fists are shaking as your eye twitches beneath furrowed brows.

“He loves you.” It’s firm, as if stating a fact, it doesn’t hurt him any less to say out loud.

“You are not pulling back from him because of me,” snarling is not something he expected from you by the way his brows lift. Shows how much Johnny said about you.

Ghost hears his own insecurity in your voice, but he can’t help it. He pushes more, “He has loved you longer.”

“And he loves you more.”

The two of you stand, locked in a glaring contest as both hearts bleed out on the stones below.

The whistling of the wind is the only sound as your face softens. Simon has never seen anyone look at him like that before, understanding tinged in empathy. Simon tears his eyes from yours, even an inch further with the knife and his heart will explode.

“Then he will have both of us. No reason for you to go away."

What the hell? Simon is a big man, strong and well trained. He has not been so thoroughly disarmed since his first year of basic training. This is why he doesn’t talk to people. To many chances to fall into traps.

“He clearly loves you. His family loves you. Callum already loves you. I am not letting you walk away because of a choice that isn’t ours to make. Besides,” you tuck your arms close, chin tipping down as you look down and away. The posture reads of shame. “This is my fault. I was so blinded by my own insecurities that I did not think anyone could truly love me. I fell into bed with him because he gives so easily. Why not take what he is offering, even if I think it won’t last? I was bound to fuck it up sooner or later. Some people aren’t made to be loved, I guess.”

Hearing his own thoughts echoed back at him, Simon thinks back to that first night together. Johnny had followed him into his room, fingers deft and kind as he stripped Simon bare. Simon had cried after they lay under the blanket Johnny had found kicked to the end of the bed.

Johnny cooed to him, telling him how even when love is lost it is never gone. He spoke of you that night, how you disappeared and despite all the times he searched over the years you remained lost.

“That is love, Simon. I would search for you if I lost you.” He had grinned then. The darkness couldn’t keep Simon from feeling bathed in warmth when that look turned to him.

Johnny bursts through the door then. Maybe discussing him called im forth like the devil. His head swiveled. He spots you to the left of the door but doesn’t stop looking. Scanning right he finds Simon. His shoulders drop.

“Oh Si,” Johnny crossed the porch, pulling the larger man into a hug. He held on like his lungs might give out without the contact.

You find Simon’s eyes on you as he holds his lover close. The shifting of your lips pretends at a smile, the tears in your eyes ring of truth though. With a hard swallow, you nod once.

“I’m glad your taste in men is as good as mine, Johnny. Your Simon would be someone I chose, too,” you slip inside before either man can truly take in the full meaning of that statement.

Disappearing in a full house takes skills. Johnny nor Simon saw much of you the few days they celebrated. Callum, on the other hand, spent every waking moment pinned to either or both men. They adore the boy and Mama MacTavish sneakily snagged a photo of the three when Callum had fallen asleep on Simon, and Johnny decided a nap was the best order of business.

When gifts were being passed about you hid in the kitchen. Callum happily handed over a new sketchbook for Johnny, his name proudly scribbled under your handwriting proclaiming ‘Callum loves dad!”. Simon took the gift from Callum as carefully as a bomb handoff. He peels the wrapping paper away to expose a wide, soft wool scarf. A tiny white skull had been stitched into one corner of the garment.

Callum gasped before jumping from Johnny’s lap to help Simon put on the scarf.

“Mummy makes the best scarves.”

Everyone laughed at the boy’s exuberance.

Before they returned to work Johnny and you sat down at the table, working out phone numbers and holidays to spend with Callum and what life could look like. You couldn’t nail down a bunch of details yet as you were moving with the start of the new year. Connection had been made though, this time you wouldn’t disappear.

New Years Day saw an adorable photo of Callum seated in an airplane seat with the message ‘Adventure is out there!”

Johnny smiled so wide Simon worried that his face might crack. The photo was promptly downloaded and saved as one of multiple backgrounds. It fell in rotation right behind a photo of Simon’s lower face tucked into his elbow offering a middle finger to the camera.

Simon shoves down the twisted pride that no photos of you appear in the rotation. Johnny had sat down when they got back to base and loaded several of his favorite pictures of Simon and Callum and a photo of a yellow flower to rotate as his background and lock screen.

January 3rd found the men and women of the 141, all seven main teams meeting the first of the several new civilians that would be helping with a variety of things.

Price whistled once and all his people circled up. Simon watched as Johnny’s mouth popped open and his eyes bugged. Confused, he looked towards Price as well.

There you stood. Eyes wide and mouth open a touch, as if you had lost the battle to keep it closed, you stare at them.

“Let me introduce you to new civilian specialized gear mechanic—”

“Tansy!” You cut Price off, “You can call me Tansy.”

Price, confused but known to be one who rolls with it, finished his sentence.

“Tansy. Tansy this is the team. You’ll learn all their names in time, but if any of them give you a hard time," he glared at Johnny and a few others pointedly, "you come to me.”

Price patted you on the back as he spoke again, “Dismissed muppets.”

You send Johnny and Simon a shrug as Price starts walking, telling you about the base and where you will be set up for jobs.

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A/N: I used the hex code #f3a900, which is called Albany Paint Tansy. It's the little things, ya know?