the 141 recovering price after he's been taken captive; he can barely stand on his own, gaz under one arm and soap under the other, but he still takes over his own rescue op, barking out orders like he isn't clinging to consciousness
when ghost stops in front of him
he's covered head to toe in blood after running through every single person who laid their hands on price; their lives forfeit the second they dared to take his captain from him. ghost looks him over, takes stock of the bruises and the blood and missing pieces
and he sinks to his knees like his strings have been cut, the thud of them hitting the deck ringing out, and he tips forward to bury his head in price's belly
he says nothing, doesn't move to grab him, just presses as much weight as he dares into his torso
and price sighs like he can finally breathe
he unhooks his arm from around gaz and threads his hand beneath ghost's collar, thumbing up the hem of his mask to tangle broken, trembling fingers through his hair. he pulls him in closer, coaxing him to rest even more of his weight on him, and soap and gaz turn in either side of him; blocking them all from the too-sharp eyes around them
gaz drops his forehead on his shoulder, neither of them caring about the grind of his shattered collarbone
soap's hand tightens around his wrist, his other curled around his hip like he's ready to pick him up and hide him away at any second
and at their feet is ghost; their guard dog finally at rest now that he's brought him home
"my boys..." price whispers thickly. safe. "my boys..."
I dont think im gonna finish writing it but i wanted to share so here u go
another one of those "Soap survives Makarov" fics cause im obsessed with this trope
<3
They were wondering once. They heard about a guy that survived a head shot from some other’s squad’s sergeant. So naturally, Garrick and MacTavish did their little research late at night when neither of them could fall asleep.
The statistics were completely different than they expected. Soap always thought shot to the head is final, that there’s not even a spark of hope for the injured. But turns out you can survive it, if the circumstances are right. Kyle and he ended up talking right to the morning about different crazy wounds they either saw or heard about. Soap himself once saw a man run to the exfil with both legs broken, since then he learned to not underappreciate adrenaline ever again. He knew not to do that before, of course, knew their enemies can do crazy shit when injured or dying. But to see the extent with his own eyes changed him. Kyle told him about a burn victim with half their body melted to the bone that kept walking until they finally collapsed.
And then there was Ghost. Gaz knew a bit more about the man, since he knew him longer than Soap, but he didn’t want to share too much out of respect for the man’s past, which Soap understood. He himself knew some of the things Ghost went through, and that was enough of a point in their list of crazy shit adrenaline can do.
...
His maw caressed his cheek lovingly.
“My wee barra” she cooed, her voice warm melody embracing his hazy memory “I luv ye so much Johnny”
“Luv ye too, maw” he rasped and coughed weakly. His maw’s face was getting blurry, his breathing gargly, wet. He had something sticky down his throat, something tasting copper-like and kind of sweet, if he really tried to focus.
...
Face above him didn’t look like his maw anymore, which ripped a quiet sob from his lips. He missed home. He wanted to “..go ‘ome” he whispered, words barely leaving his heaving chest.
“We’re going home, we’re gonna go home just hang on” Gaz suddenly came into view and Johnny looked up at him trying to focus. If that’s Gaz, then the other one is.. He trailed back to the other face. Ghost.
Why was he on the floor, again?
He tried moving his head to the side.
And then the world went white. Soap thought he was screaming but couldn’t hear himself over the ringing in his ears. There was something holding his head, putting pressure on the pulsing pain in his temples. Something trickled down his forehead and into his eye making it sting. In a wild rush of strength his hand shot up to claw at the one holding him, but as fast as he did that, his arm went limp and everything started to spin.
“…onny! Johnny, for fucks sake stay still!” Ghost yelled from somewhere above him. Soap gasped for air that no longer wanted to go through his windpipe.
He felt his own chest stop moving, and it was the scariest feeling he ever experienced.
Right after hearing Price order to start CPR on him, that is.
…
“I was wondering”
“Oh, here we go” Ghost replied gruffly.
“Shut yer gob. I was wondering, cause ye ken, when ye blow shite up, ye already alert everyone around ye yer there. So, is there like, anything keeping us from making the explosives colorful like ba… fireworks?” Soap cocked his head, looking up at his Lt.
Ghost ran a hand over his face. “I swear it’s like you don’t get tired, just dumber with every kilometer”
“Oi” Soap furrowed his brows, scrunching his face in offense.
“I don’t think the military wants to spend any more money on explosives, especially on making them colorful.” Ghost sighed.
“But ye just have to use different chemicals to…” Ghost’s dramatic sigh made him grin even wider.
…
“He’s back” pressure in his chest was unbearable, and yet Soap could do nothing about it. He was swimming, vast, dark ocean underneath him. He could hear waves crash around him, even above him. He was standing on the edge of highlands, angry water beneath him. Wind pushed at his back, making him stumble. Someone’s hand grabbed him before he tipped over the edge.
His eyes flew open. Those were no waves, just rotor blades, floor on which he laid shaking slightly.
He could only stare ahead. His eyes wouldn’t move. He couldn’t blink, even if he wanted to.
He couldn’t move.
Everything around him blurred, making his shot-through brain make it’s own shapes take place over reality.
…
“Do you have dreams?” Soap asked quietly.
“Like, when I sleep?” Ghost’s voice was raspy, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed on his own pecs.
“No, I mean, do you have dreams like, ye want a wee house on the hills and a dog or something when ye retire” Soap propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at his lieutenant.
“I don’t plan to retire” came a gruff response.
Soap made a sad face. “Well, but imagine for a moment that ye do retire. What would ye do then?”
“Dunno, probably would live somewhere far away from everyone. People piss me off”
“You don’t say” Soap drawled, lazily arching his brows. Ghost sends him an unamused look, then shifts so he was lower on the ground, just his shoulders resting on the wall behind him. His leg falls to the side, knee touching Soap’s ribs.
“You?” Ghost asks after a few quiet moments.
“Dunno, for sure would move back to Scotland. She’s waiting fir me” Johnny smiled, tilting his head back to look at Simon, catching him rolling his eyes fondly.
“Maybe I’d move there with you” Ghost whispered, looking down at him, his warm brown eyes catching orange light from the sunset.
“I’d like that very much” Johnny felt himself smile.
He could have sworn he saw Ghost’s eyes crinkle in his own grin.
…
Someone took a sharp breath beside him.
“Is it... supposed to look like that?”
“For now, yes. We can’t close the wound due to swelling. It would do further damage, which we can not afford in his current state”
“When… uh…”
“We can’t be sure. A couple of days, at most a week. He’s strong, recovers quickly.”
“Okay, that’s… good.”
“Would you like to stay with him for a bit? I know he’s not responsive, but sickly can benefit from a familiar presence even unconscious”
“Yes, I… I will stay. Thanks for… Thank you”
…
“Don’t know. They said he can wake up any time now, after the… Y’know…”
“It looks awful.”
“Stop that, it’s a fresh wound. It’s going to fade soon. Remember to not say anything like that once he wakes, we don’t want to freak him out now.”
“Sorry, cap, it’s just…”
“It’s a lot. For all of us.”
“Yeah.”
…
“Hi” there was some shuffling next to him. His brows furrowed slightly. “Ghost went to take a shower quickly, so it’s just you and me for now.”
Who’s that? What ghost?
“Shepherd’s furious with us, you know? That old bastard. He’s mad we’re staying with you instead of going after Makarov. Mad that we helped you instead of following the bastard after the shot.”
A shot.
“I don’t want to bother you, Tav. God knows you need rest, I just… Wanted to talk with you like we always had.”
“I’m scared what’s going to happen when you wake up. I’m scared you… that there’s too much damage. Doctors told us about all this bullshit but all I could hear was… that you could possibly suffer for the rest of your life, Tav. And I started to wonder if…” the voice broke slightly, and Johnny felt sympathy for that that person. “Maybe we made the wrong call. But I… but we couldn’t go forward without you, brother. Even if I’ll have to take care of you for the rest of our days, I will do it. I will do everything I can to get you back, Johnny.”
…
“Doctors told us to talk to you, son” the voice was somewhat unsure, maybe even embarrassed. Was he embarrassed to talk to him? Why? What’d he do?
“I’m not sure if it’s going to help or change anything, but I suppose that’s better than sitting in silence. This hospital is driving me mad. I’m sure it’s going to drive you mad once you wake up, too.”
Johnny’s mind started to slowly slip away in the silence that followed, until
“We need you, John. We all need you. I know I’m your captain first, but now, here, in this hospital… I am your friend, John. And I need you to get better. I need you to prove to me that you are as indestructible as I always believed you to be. We will wait for as long as you need us to. Just make sure to come back.”
…
His eyes opened before he realized he was awake.
His gaze drifted slowly down and to the side, where he felt someone holding his limp hand. Johnny let his eyes wander up slowly, to finally rest on a pair of warm brown eyes, pale lashes and black balaclava.
“Hi, sweetheart” Simon’s whisper welcomed him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
…
“Th… swell?” his tongue felt weird in his mouth, like it’s swollen, but Simon told him multiple times already that it’s not. “M’ face?”
“The incision we had to do is looking good, we will soon be taking the stitches out. The swelling will go away with time, promise” the kind lady, doctor… something, he already forgot her name, smiled at him warmly. “Motor skills will improve with therapy, too. You should just relax, let your body recover. It did so much for you already, John” she called him Mr MacTavish earlier but, to his teammates worry, he kept forgetting it was his name and didn’t react to it. Now she was talking again but his eyes got stuck on his IV. He blinked slowly, one of his eyes opening back and other staying closed.
“Johnny” a voice rumbled beside him. That name he knew. His name. So, he looked up, dazed, to see Simon looking at him, worried. Why was the Ghost worried about him? “Did you hear what dr Kretch said?”
Johnny worked his jaw for a second, trying to remember how to respond. Finally, he croaked quietly.
“Who?” his voice came out small, barely there. His hand was limp again, and there was Simon’s hand on it. Simon shot a glance to the side, then looked back at him.
“No one, Johnny. Try to sleep a bit, okay?” his other hand came up to cup his jaw, making Johnny lean into it with a content hum.
…
“You already lost weight, try to eat anything, I beg you Tav” his friend sighed, probably tired with Johnny’s bullshit.
Nothing had any taste. When he said that to his doctor, she said it might be caused by his medication.
And that information did absolutely nothing.
Food still disgusting, stomach still empty, nerves still fried.
“Suds” Kyle sat down on the side of the bed Johnny was currently sitting on. “Come on, mate” his voice went soft, warmer. “I can try to bring you something from a pub, or cafeteria, or…”
“I want to go to sleep” Johnny whispers, looking down at a plastic fork in his hand. Kyle sighs, resigned, then stands up.
“Okay then” he takes the fork from Johnny’s hand and tosses it on the plate. “Lay down then.” Johnny does as he’s told, a blanket is being draped over him.
People come and go around him, he thinks Kyle is still with him, but he’s not sure.
His gaze drifted slowly down and to the side, where he felt someone holding his limp hand. Johnny let his eyes wander up slowly, to finally rest on a pair of warm brown eyes, pale lashes and black balaclava.
“Hi, sweetheart” Simon’s whisper welcomed him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
i started to write a fic but my motivation was short lived
i wanted to make him his own mask instead of giving him Ghost's, and i imagined him trying to get to the US border away from Roba and having to make a shitty mask from remains of his shirt to not get his face dirty from ash and sand and he just stuck with that look
Not an ask, just wanna say how much i love your art and your Ideas <3
You somehow manage to post things that makes me feel such strong emotions that makes me want to sometimes cry (good crying) and sometimes make me smile no matter where I am
omg i'm so happy you like my art and thank you so much for the kind words, they make me keep going <3
quarterly reminder that if i reblog something ai-generated it is 110% and always an accident and for the love of god please tell me so i can delete it from my blog
