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forsaire · 1 month

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Try again

What if Ghost and Soap didn't work out? What if they loved each other more than anything and really tried to make it work but eventually, Ghost's own self-doubt and trauma built a rift between them that was impossible to overcome. And one day, they cracked.

Being reunited 15 years later, maybe the universe had finally given them the second chance Ghost so desperately craved. And with Soap's affectionate eyes crinkling warmly in Ghost's direction, he was damn sure going to seize it.

link on ao3 (with full tags) ~3000 words

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When Ghost and Soap got together for the first time, Ghost felt as though he had finally found the missing piece that his life had been so empty without. They loved each other, they really did, but it wasn’t perfect.

Between their jobs, the constant stress, the long hours, and their own personal issues, something eventually began to break. They both had their own traumas but Ghost’s was especially destructive. It slowly ate away at him, consuming him, controlling him, no matter how hard he fought back against it.

They tried, god knows how hard they tried. They wanted nothing more than to make it work. They thought they could fix it.

But one day, it broke.

Sometimes bridges collapse. Sometimes roads crack. Sometimes houses crumble.

Sometimes love isn’t enough.

Ghost struggled a lot. Not with loving Johnny – that was easy – but with being someone that Johnny could love. The gnarled and intrusive whispers in the back of his head taunted him with how little he deserved happiness. He grew paranoid, distant, and cold. As time went on, Ghost started to push Soap away, scared of inevitably losing him like he’d lost everyone else in his life.

Near the end they fought. A lot.

Ghost wanted to stop, he did, but fear had clutched its sharp claws around his heart, stealing it away from the only man he had ever wanted to give it to.

When it all became too much for them – when the scales shattered and the rope splintered – Ghost didn’t blame Soap for leaving, not for one second. He only wished with Ghost no longer being a burden in his life that Soap would find a better happiness somewhere else.

While he understood why Soap did it, it almost destroyed Ghost when he left. He struggled to see the value in trying to live anymore. But imagining Soap’s face when someone told him the news always stopped him from succumbing to these thoughts. He couldn’t hurt Soap even more than he already had.

So he continued to live.

And the sun continued to rise.

And the days continued to pass.

And before he knew it, Ghost found himself 15 years older.

Then, by happenstance, they were reunited. Enough time had passed that they were both leading their own teams. Unbeknownst to them, one of their higher ups put their two teams together to work on a complicated infiltration mission. The docket had been classified, so Ghost would only know who he was working with once he saw them face to face.

But Ghost heard his voice before seeing his face, a throb in his chest spreading quickly as his heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since he heard that voice – deep, gravelly, and sharp, but also filled with unreserved warmth and care. Could it really be him?

As Ghost rounded the corner, before him stood several men around a large wooden table, their gazes pointed downwards as they focused on the unfurled map that spread across it. Ghost’s eyes immediately locked onto the man standing in the middle, gesturing to a location with a deep furrow on his brow.

It was Soap.

He had changed – they both had. His hair was a bit longer but still sported that familiar mohawk. He’d aged beautifully, slight wrinkles around his eyes and grey hairs that peppered his sides. His lips were still full and his chin still strong and his nose still slightly askew.

He glanced up as Ghost walked in.

Those eyes. Those eyes hadn’t changed at all. They were still as stunningly deep and blue as the ocean, powerful currents that always sucked Ghost in.

Soap froze. His breath hitched. His mouth fell open. His eyes widened.

And Soap, who also hadn’t seen those eyes in years would recognize them in a heartbeat. He’d never forgotten the beauty of Ghost’s eyes, the colour of deep, rich earth that nurtured the vibrant colours of the world to flourish.

As they looked at one another there was a long, excruciatingly long, second of shocked silence.

Then, to Ghost’s immediate relief, a tender smile spread across Soap’s face, the coldness of his life immediately melting away as he was bathed in such breathtaking warmth yet again. It was a privilege he never thought he would get to experience again.

With a quiet mutter to excuse himself, Soap briefly patted the shoulder of the man to his right and started to make his way over to Ghost. Each step closer, one after another after another, the whole time a playful smirk pulling at Soap’s lips.

He relished in the way that Soap’s eyes looked him up and down. He stopped in front of Ghost, just a couple feet away which still felt like too much space.

“L.t…” Soap breathed out. It was like a song made just for his ears.

“I haven’t heard that in years…” Ghost said quietly, somehow stringing a coherent sentence together. He smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Johnny…”

Soap’s eyes crinkled, resembling sunshine, and his head briefly dropped as he let out a breathy chuckle. After a second, he looked up again, staring into Ghost’s eyes unwaveringly.

“And I only liked hearing that name from you. The only one who called me that.”

“Can I?” he said, his hesitant words heavy with implication. Could he still call Soap Johnny? Was he still Johnny? Was he still his Johnny.

“Aye…” he said sweetly. “Only you…”

They stared into each other’s eyes, forever and endless, and gleefully let the memories come rushing back like an old friend.

All of a sudden, Soap peeled his eyes away, shaking his head as if to snap out of it. He took a quick inhale and pointed a thumb over to the rest of the group.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

As they walked back to the group, Ghost couldn’t help but steal glances down at Soap’s hand to try and catch if there was a ring. It was selfish the way his heart fluttered with happiness when he didn’t see one.

And just like that, as if opposite sides of a magnet, the two of them were uncontrollably drawn to one another again, like no time had passed at all. Neither of them could help it. They were planets caught in the other’s orbit. They were the drugs that they were happily addicted to. They were the air of life in the other’s lungs.

As the days passed, their curious eyes wandered beyond, sneaking glances at lips, arms, legs, and any flash of skin. Their smiles were gifted fully in all manners of ways – teasingly, proudly, sentimentally. Their bodies always found one another with small and subtle brush ups along their shoulders, knees, and fingers.

Each touch was just as invigorating as the last.

They continued to grow closer, ignoring a strange look or two from the other members of their teams as frivolous nothings that existed beyond the gaze of each other’s eyes.

For Soap, the smallest of voices at the back of his mind told him to slow down, take it easy, think twice.

But he didn’t want to. It was all so thrilling and comfortable again.

Their evening planning sessions turned to late night joking conversations, a bottle of Scotch being passed between the two of them freely. These conversations quickly turned into flirting. Under the soft glow of the desk light, they would inch closer and closer to each other, their hearts skipping excitedly with each touch or look.

Ghost hadn’t felt so light and carefree in such a long time.

He wanted.

Soap wanted.

And one day, after weeks of this, the two of them turned that want into action.

After a final late night planning session where they spent at least most of the time doing their actual jobs, the two of them walked back to Soap’s room. As they lingered outside his door, the space between them felt thick with was unspoken need.

Soap turned around, his face pinched up in slight hesitation.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he stated, trying to make conversation, “for the raid…”

“Yeah…” Ghost said, not wanting to think beyond this moment.

Soap clasped his hands together. “And when it’s done… I’m… we’re… shipped off again. You’ve any idea where?”

Ghost shook his head. “I go where I’m needed.”

Something shifted behind Soap’s eyes, disappointment mixed with sorrow. “Right…right…”

A spark.

Ghost raised his arm to scratch at the back of his neck, feeling a sudden need to do something with his useless hands, when a familiar stabbing pain shot through his shoulder. He sucked in a breath and grimaced, lowering his arm to make the pain stop.

“Still that shoulder?” Soap asked, jokingly but still with sincere concern.

With pinched lips, Ghost smiled and rolled out his shoulder. “Same shoulder for 20 years. Only gotten worse with age. Even lifting my arm hurts it sometimes. It feels like I'm too old nowadays for most things I used to do.”

“Well…” Soap said teasingly, his eyes shifting with need. “Hopefully not everything…”

A flicker.

“Yeah?” Ghost replied, keeping his voice low. “What did you have in mind?”

Soap discreetly raised his hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around Ghost’s belt and pulling him closer. The air crackled with electricity between them.

“Are you sure…?” Ghost asked softly, tilting his head closer to Soap who lifted his chin up expectedly.

“Simon…” Soap whispered, his mouth so close he could feel its heat through his mask. “Don’t make me beg…”

A burning flame.

And that was it.

They tumbled into the room, grasping onto every inch of each other. There was nothing but lips and hands, limbs tangling and taking with need. Their bodies were infinite and Soap’s eyes, giving him nothing but trust and pleasure, were endless.

In an instant, everything came back to Ghost as he relived exactly where to touch and caress Soap’s body that would coax out all of his pretty little moans. Hands traced over old and new scars on each other’s bodies. Soap placed kisses down Ghost’s tattoos which had sprawled up his bicep and crept onto his chest over the years. There was nothing but them.

There was nothing but Johnny.

When they were done, twice surprisingly, they lay in bed together, Soap curled up against his side and Ghost’s arm wrapped around him like they always used to do. With quiet puffs that blew out across his chest, Ghost counted each of Soap’s breaths, wondering if this was going to be the last time he’d ever get to see Soap like this again before they parted tomorrow.

Ghost leisurely trailed his fingers up and down Soap’s spine, expertly noting all of the new marks and scars he knew had never been there before. The metal of Ghost’s dog tag quietly jingled as Soap absentmindedly twisted the chain around his finger.

“Not too old for that,” Soap joked quietly, the smile evident in his voice. “Thank god.”

“No,” Ghost mumbled warmly, “I suppose not. Helps that it was you.”

Soap then lifted his head off of Ghost’s chest and stared at him in wonder, awestruck as if seeing him for the first time. He unwrapped the dog tags from his hand and gently traced the line of grey hairs that had sprouted along Ghost’s temple.

“Counting my greys, are you?” he said jokingly, not-so-secretly loving all of the attention that Soap was giving him.

Soap smiled sentimentally, memories flashing behind his eyes in an instant. “I’m glad to see you like this,” he replied. “You often spoke about how you didn’t think you would make it this far. It’s proof that you did. And I think it’s beautiful.”

With a quick peck to Ghost’s cheek, Soap rested his head back against Ghost’s chest.

Ghost didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t. Come morning, he didn’t think he had the strength to say goodbye to Soap yet again. He clenched his jaw and blinked away the tears that threatened to come out.

“Is…” Ghost started, scared to ask the question. “Is there anyone else…?”

He probably should have asked that before their night together, but he wasn’t exactly thinking with the right head. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He didn’t know what would hurt more – Soap walking away alone or towards someone else.

Soap gently shook his head. “There were a few people over the years but…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“But what?” Ghost said, tenderly urging him to speak more.

After a few long seconds, Soap spoke up again.

“I never loved anyone in the same way that I loved you.” Soap’s fingers were gracing the top of Ghost’s chest, turning those meaningless shapes into artwork against his skin. “And you?” It was also hesitant but hopeful, trying not to give too much away.

Ghost placed his fingers underneath Soap’s chin and gently pushed it up so they were looking into each other’s eyes again.

“I never loved anyone after you…”

Soap took a shuddering inhale upon hearing those words. Ghost couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to know. He needed to ask. He needed to scream it out into the world.

His heart started thumping nervously in his chest. He was sure that Soap could feel it. He gathered every bit of courage he had inside, beating down years of shame and regret.

“I…I…” he stuttered, the words tumbling out without any grace. “I’ve missed you so much, more than you could ever know. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry for how I treated you. There’s someone I’ve been talking to for a long time now and they’ve been helping me. I’m not perfect, god knows I don’t think I��ll ever be. But I’m better. I really am.

“The whole time all I wanted was for you to see how I was changing. I wanted to be someone that could make you proud. I hope I am…

“I know what I’m about to ask is a lot, and I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… anything else… but… I’d never be able to forgive myself if I-”

Ghost let out an anxious sigh, letting his thumb that softly caressed Soap’s cheek calm him down.

“I want… I want…” Ghost took one final breath. “Can we try again?” He didn’t care how pathetic he sounded. He didn’t care that he was practically begging. “I’ve never stopped loving you all this time and… and seeing you again just brought back all these emotions again… and… You were the only good thing I’m my life after so many years. You made me so happy. I selfishly want that feeling again. I want you.

“So… what do you think? You and me again? I don’t know what might happen, I guess neither of us do, but I promise I won’t give up. I never want to give up on you again. I promise to make you happy, in whatever way that means now. I’m scared of you walking out of my life tomorrow. But even then, you’re still the love of my life and always will be whether or not we’re together…”

As Ghost spoke, he watched Soap’s eyes soften. He leaned into Ghost’s touch, blinking away the mistiness that had clouded his eyes. He carefully dragged his eyes up and down Ghost’s face, flickering memories dancing behind them of the life they used to share.

Ghost didn’t know if the years had been kind or cruel to him. He so desperately wanted to fight for Soap. He wanted to give him a life he deserved.

Soap let out a shuddering exhale, leaning forward to bury his face into Ghost’s neck.

“Aye…” he whispered with desperate relief against Ghost’s skin. “I do… I want that more than anything…”

Had Soap not been there in his arms grounding him, Ghost would have crumpled into ash. Dizzying, dizzying happiness swirled around his mind. He tightened his grip around Soap, holding him until they were one. His heart was soaring, grateful at the chance to love once again.

All of Ghost’s nervousness turned into giddiness, a happy chuckle bubbling up and singing a beautiful symphony for the whole world to hear.

“I can put in a transfer request…” Ghost murmured, “but… I’m not sure…”

He could feel the way Soap’s smile widened across his skin.

“Murray is leaving in a few weeks,” he stated, his controlled excitement still peeking out. “His wife is having a baby. There will be an empty spot on my team. And I have complete authority over who joins…”

“You sure the rest of the Scots won’t have an issue with me invading?” he joked. It felt so good to joke. It felt so good to hold Soap in his arms.

“They best not. Then they’ll also be having a problem with me.”

Soap lifted up his head again, gifting Ghost with such tenderness and softness. There was nothing on earth like those eyes.

He leaned forward and blissfully pressed their lips together. No longer was Ghost adrift. No longer was Ghost alone. They’d missed so much time together that Ghost wanted to make up for.

When Ghost used to think about their future, he was frozen with fear, scared that he wasn’t worth it, scared that they would never last. But now, Soap’s firm but soft body wrapped in his arms and addicting lips pressed against his, Ghost was no longer afraid.

He was excited for whatever the future may hold, hand in hand, side by side.

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link on ao3

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #my writing #ghoap writing #oneshot #try again #getting a second chance at love is such a trope that's near and dear to my heart #middle aged gays reuniting with their first love is so sweet #i need to write them falling in love in every universe #and even if it doesn't work out the first time #there was something so special about their love that they never forgot each other #and ghost never stopped loving #i adore the idea of soap loving other people but just not in the same way he ever loved ghost #and ghost never loving anyone else besides soap #feels true to their personalities #hope you liked it 🤗🤗

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softquietsteadylove · 1 year

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Hello there, beautiful ✨

I've got this wonderful Reunion idea!

What if Thena, Makkari and Druig (and bitching around Eros, unfortunately) were able to rescue the others but the way back to the Domo is blocked by at least a dozen of Gilgameshs. And Arishem is like:"I'll let you leave the World Forge IF you're able to choose the right Gilgamesh, the one who walked earth with you." But of course all of those fake versions got the same memories downloaded, and now it's on Thena to find HER sweet sweet Gilgamesh.

Hugs and much love 🖤✨

Gilgamesh--dozens of him. Looking around, looking at each other, looking at them.

Thena blinked, stumbling back a step as gold flickered under her skin.

"Easy," Druig murmured only loud enough for her. He put a hand on her back to keep her from turning and running. "Easy, T."

"What the hell is this?" Kingo said aloud, taking the sight of copies of his brother--his brother whom he saw murdered not even a year ago.

"Thena?"

"Thena!"

"Thena, what's going on?"

Arishem had told them what it was for. He intended to discover if the Eternals were really capable of retaining pieces of their past lives, or if it was nothing but a flaw in his programming. Was Mahd Wy'ry a feature or a bug?

"T, come on," Phastos gestured from a little further back in the pack. His rings were practically rattling on his hands. "For all you know, none of them are-"

"No," she gulped, eyes still wide and glued to the small battalion in front of them. "He's here."

Kingo moved forward, intent on...something. Perhaps he thought this was the kind of burden he could take on for his sister. But he looked down as Makkari tugged at his sleeve, shaking her head.

"This is nonsense," the newest one of the group - Eros - drawled, utterly bored now that their quarry had been retrieved. "I can make swift work of-"

"No!"

Thena walked forward. None of them were listening to her anyway. All of the Gilgameshs looked at her as she approached. Not even one of them raised a fist. She glanced over her shoulder at Eros, "you touch even one of them and you'll face me next."

That was about as serious a threat that could exist.

She walked closer to the mass of Gilgamesh. It was surreal, and maybe a bit horrific. Her mind desperately screamed at her that this wasn't right. That she was finally, truly Mahd and that none of this was real.

"Thena?"

She closed her eyes, inhaling, trying to pull together her mind as she had been getting better at doing. Times when Druig would help by keeping her wild thoughts contained. Times when she would just stand there, crying for someone who was still there in her mind. Times when she would tremble and Gil would be there to hold her hand.

Her Gilgamesh.

She took in a deep breath again. They all smelled like the World Forge. None of them smelled like their home in Australia. One of them walked Earth with her for years--for centuries and millennia. The rest only thought they did.

She looked around at them, all of them meeting her eye with the same intent and recognition. Arishem really was a deity who new neither love nor cruelty. This was merely an experiment with his little pets.

Ajak was many things, but she never toyed with them like this.

Thena looked each in the eye one at a time. They reacted the way one might expect. They all had gentle expressions and soft smiles. But none of them were right, yet. She would know.

She could doubt many things about her life, and herself, but she had no doubts about this.

She looked each of them over. Their eyes would meet but then nothing would happen. She would know it wasn't really him. Someone who thought himself Gilgamesh, maybe. But she would move on. Something was missing.

She took a breath again. Her Cosmic Energy was buzzing in her veins, overstimulated from the sheer volume of Eternals present. But that wasn't right. She closed her eyes again.

There was a direction in which it was pulling. One that promised calm, and peace. She took a few steps, focusing entirely within as the power in her body guided her.

"What is she doing?" The interloper was wary of her letting her guard down around the enemy.

"Let her," Sersi was the one to silence him. She was their new Prime, after all.

Thena opened her eyes. Not at the back of the group, but far from the front. This one. She looked at his eyes, soft and warm, rich brown. He looked exactly like the others but...different.

The way he stood was different. His shoulders were a little more relaxed, a little heavier. The others weren't defensive but they weren't exactly dormant. He was at ease with her in front of him.

She raised her hand up to his cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes like she was a soothing balm to an open wound. She put her other hand on his chest. His heartbeat was strong, and it fell on the same rhythm as hers.

"This one."

Arishem's voice thundered both around them and in their skulls. "You are certain?"

Thena smiled, and was awarded with a smile in return. Gil turned his head to kiss her palm and reached out for her. Her body didn't flinch, her Cosmic Energy didn't reflexively gather in her palms. Her most instilled survival instinct - her inability to relax - was dormant. She sighed as his hand found the small of her back. This was him. "This is my Gil."

He beamed at her, touching his forehead to hers, careful of the tiara of her armour. This was him.

The other Eternals watched on anxiously. Thena was as certain as the Energy they all shared, but they could still have their own doubts. Sersi was the only one who already looked relieved.

Thena kept her eyes closed as the other Gilgameshs went quiet, sentinels robbed of movement. She didn't want to see him still and lifeless again, in any form. She whispered to her Gilgamesh, "let's go."

He nodded, leading her away and into the Domo, not even looking back at the rest of his family. He kept his hand at her waist, leading her gently, "I'm right here."

He was right here, with her, safe. This was him.

"Thena?" Young - genuinely young - Sprite ran out from the console room, stopping short at the sight. She eyed the 'Gilgamesh' with her. "Th-Thena?"

"It's okay, Sprite," she whispered, not releasing Gil from being within arm's reach. She nodded, "it's him."

Sprite accepted it, although she didn't exactly run over with open arms. She leaned to look around them as the rest finally followed, filing into the Domo. She widened her eyes and shook her head slightly.

Kingo mirrored the expression and shrugged; he didn't know either! He moved to her side quickly, though, "come on, let's get outta here."

Phastos took up the helm. Eros stood at the threshold while the family whose ship this really was easily fell into their respective roles again. He was still eyeing Gilgamesh.

"Don't let Thena catch you."

He looked beside him at the Elemental Eternal--the replacement Prime, as he knew her. That was until they got their recovered Prime online again.

"It's him," Sersi confirmed, looking at her sister, gazing at Gilgamesh without a care as to who saw. "If Thena's that sure, then so am I."

"You can afford to be so certain?" Eros felt free to ask her. He nodded his head at the Warrior Eternal, lavishing in the presence of her love. "You don't think maybe she wants it to be him badly enough to convince her mind of it? A mind, which, may I add-"

"Has nothing to do with you," Sersi cut him off decisively. She drifted closer to the rest of her family, "I have known these two for thousands of years. The love they have has always escaped my full understanding. But...you know it when you see it."

Maybe Eros wasn't used to seeing such display of emotion. It wasn't something Eternals were prone to--not supposed to be prone to, at least. They were androids--inorganic and created for a purpose. They didn't mate for life.

But then, Thena wasn't a perfect Eternal. She had a bug, or a feature, rather.

"Are they gonna just stand there like that," Phastos muttered, with Kingo's agreement over watching their sister's canoodling.

"Leave 'em be," Druig muttered behind both of them, Makkari tucked into his side. In the absence of the rest of their brothers and sisters, Druig had become the presence most looming and protective of the Warrior Eternal's peace of mind.

Thena opened her eyes again, finding, indeed, her Gilgamesh. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. That was him. "Hey."

He both melted and burst, his smile warming the entire room of their cold mothership. He ducked his head closer, their noses brushing, "hey."

She sighed, settling herself in the crook of his neck like she belonged there. "You're here."

"I'm here."

"It's you," she found his hands, winding them together. They fit just right.

"It's me," he confirmed, pressing his palm to his like he had millions of times before.

This was him.

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