𝐅𝐨𝐱𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬💀🧼

6k words of good old MacTavish longing.

archiveofourown.org/works/74901581

#ao3 #ghoap #soapghost #09soapghost #simonghostriley #johnsoapmactavish #ghostxsoap

Ngl, thought that was full of beans

Worth it though

Make the ultimate Mac and cheese

Some of these days look so good

Ghost tearing up because he didn't expect Soap to be so gentle with him, checking in with him at every step and he just can't help the tears that well up in his eyes when Soap asks how he's doing.
Them holding hands while Soap fucks in, giving him a moment to settle down as he strokes along his arm

bsky is the one place where reposts and/or replies matter, but it's also the one place where people just aren't doing that... 🥲 literally one repost or emoji etc makes a difference. twt is bad enough, but now I genuinely don't even want to post here. it was so good in the beginning, what happened..

would push too hard and for too long and that MacTavish would eventually lash out against him.

The tears falling down his cheeks at least clear his vision enough to see where the door was and, like the coward he was, Riley is quick to slip through the door despite the way MacTavish calls for him,

feel a headache coming on.

"I-I-" He tries again only to startle back against the wall, eyes snapping up as MacTavish is suddenly beside him, he can see his mouth moving but can't grasp the words.

MacTavish reaches for him and Riley flinches. He deserves what's coming, knew that eventually he

slips, he thinks he can hear it hit the ratty carpet but can't be sure.

"I'm s-sorry s-s-sir." He rings his hands together, gripping at his fingers to stop them shaking, it hurts but he can't bring himself to stop.

Noise seems to white out as the sound of his heart thuds in his ears and he can

air, his lungs burning in response.

"Riley, you solid?" He sees MacTavish shift at the corner of his eye, and he pushes himself closer to the wall, shifting as he tries to remember where the door was.

"Okay, I'm not coming closer, don't worry lad." Riley hears him try to placate him and a tear

look up, continues to stare at the peeling skirting board parting the wall and the floor, though that seems to be swimming in the tears collecting on his waterline.

"I, I..." He swallows as the words refuse to leave, "S-sorry, I'm," there's a lump in his throat that feels like it's constricting his

were shaking and his chest aches with fast breaths and the damn fear driven excessive blinking as he tilts his face away from MacTavish, avoiding looking at his face in fear of seeing the fury that he knew would be there.

"Riley?" He can hear his name through the haze, but can't bring himself to

own fault when MacTavish shouts at him with a loud thud of his fists hitting the desk as he raised to his feet, the chair legs squealing against the floor as it gets shoved back with the movement.

Riley didn't quite remember how he had made it to the other end of the room, just knew that his hands

why he started it in the first place either other than the fact that there's an undercurrent of nervous energy running through him that leaves him unsettled and he doesn't know how else to approach the subject with the only person who understands him.

Usually MacTavish catches on. But it's his

he probably should have stopped when the man had already been annoyed after a busy morning of meetings, from the way his back twinged from too long spent over paperwork and the hour long phone call he had just gotten off as Riley entered the room.

But Riley had to push more and doesn't even know

rapidly as if hoping that upon opening them again would perhaps make whatever was stressing him out all stop or disappear.

Both habits come about again when he was in MacTavish's office.

He had pushed too far, he knows now, prodded the tender spots until MacTavish finally snapped- understood that

cussing as he loses his place and then annoyed tears would sting at his eyes.

Another habit he had thought he'd left in his childhood, along with the bed wetting and the flinching at raised voices of too quick movements, was the blinking. Seemingly beyond his control, his eyes would flutter

feel in his mouth, Riley has all but eradicated his stutter in his everyday life.

Only with a combination of events- namely exhaustion weighing on him and stress eating away- had it rearing its ugly head again. He'd stumble over his words, frustration building as he gets caught up in a sentence,

#soapghost

While Riley was young, he had a stutter. It was evident in the day to day but would be made worse by stress and, predictably, was a target for ridicule by peers and his father alike.

Through years of training himself by reading aloud, familiarising himself with the way words would feel

I have a maltesers one

that despite the endless shit he's been handed, from his childhood marred by violence, his time kept by the cartel, the betrayal by Shepherd, he lived to see the simple act of aging.

MacTavish turns his head inwards to press a kiss to the side of his head, "It suits you."

John knows that he isn't upset about his hair being marked by time, quite the opposite. It's easy to see the awe in the man's tearful eyes, the way he's almost disbelieving that he got to live long enough to see the changes;

guiding him to look into the mirror with him.

"'m going grey" He whispers, and sure enough, in the centre of his forehead is a small cluster of silver hairs- barely anything compared to the grey that has overtaken MacTavish's mohawk, but it is definitely there.

It's not long into their retirement that John catches Riley staring at himself in the mirror, a towel around his waist and he walks up behind him to place his hands on Riley's hips, nose buried in his neck.

"You okay?"

And Riley nods, lifting his hand up to cups MacTavish's cheek,

They settle into domesticity with surprising ease, taking to lazy days spent lounging in bed, sometimes they'll go for a run together, but for the most part, they exist in each other's company- Ma MacTavish says it won't be long before they turn into hermits, and they're both okay with that.

#soapghost

MacTavish and Riley retire after Makarov is ... "put down". MacTavish doesn't renew his contract and with Shepherd dead, Riley has no handler keeping him there.

each other next to the last picture she had gotten of the pair- she remembers the way John had held Simon close as they both grumbled about the camera in their faces, together just as their tombstones were.

humour in the fact her John had given Simon their last name so that they could return home together if something like this were to happen, a failsafe so that the man was not buried alone and forgotten.

But she was without her sons in a way no mother should be, two sets of dog tags hanging besides

and perhaps he would have Simon next to him, where he belonged.

And in a way he they were together, she guessed.

Because when she opened the door to a sullen man with mutton chops, holding a small box, she knew that her boys would not be returning from this war.

She wished that she could find