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nackrosor · 6 months

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Mornin' Sunshine

John 'Soap' MacTavish x Teammate!Reader

warnings/tags: MAJOR MW3 SPOILERS, this is all I can say. If you played/watched the new campaign then you know what happened during the last mission. That's all you need to know.

summary: you partake in the "Trojan Horse" mission to stop Makarov once and for all. You're not able to stop him but you prevent thousands of people to die... at the cost of something much more dear to you.

word count: 1,9k.

You’ve been cut off and held back by those Konni bastards while you were heading toward your team to rejoin. You have to cut through their unrelenting forces, losing precious time, until you can dive deeper into the tunnels and rush to aid your mates.

When you finally make it, it’s already too late. The fire has ceased, there’s no Konni in sight anymore nor do you see Makarov anywhere. Your eyes dart for a fleeting moment over all the bodies laying around and with relief you notice more enemies than familiar faces.

Your relief however is short lived for when you raise your gaze, you meet the forlorn looks on the captain, Gaz, Ghost’s faces… They're all standing in front of something, as if their intention is to block it from your view. You immediately notice that Soap is missing and you take a step forward, craning your neck as if expecting to see his face pop up from behind someone’s shoulder.

Price instantly makes a beeline toward you when he sees you move. His hand comes down hard to rest on your shoulder. Your perplexed look meets his intense gaze. There’s something wrong, you can feel it… Something must have happened, but you can't yet seem to understand what.

Your eyes flicker from face to face, your frown growing harder.

"Where's Johnny?" you ask softly, your voice failing you for a moment as if it knows something you don’t.

Upon seeing the worried glances they give each other you can feel your breathing quicken and your stomach starting to churn in anxiety. There's a horrible thought slowly taking form in the recesses of your mind but you try your best to suppress it… because it can't be true. No. It can't be.

"Where… is… Johnny?" your voice is louder now and you stress each word on purpose, making it clear that you demand an answer. Your hard gaze roams over your partners' faces once more but again, you’re only met with distraught looks and silence.

You move to step around Price's body, who's clearly - now you realize - trying to hold you in place.

"Y/N, you shouldn't-"

He tries to stop you but you're growing restless, anxiety eating at you from inside and so you shove your captain out of the way without a second thought.

Your stomach drops the moment you see him. Your heart misses a beat. You can feel the air getting pushed out of your lungs.

Despite your knees buckling, you drag yourself forward like attracted to a magnet, stumbling toward the inert body laying on the ground in a puddle of blood. His head is turned to the other side but you recognize him. How couldn't you? You've lovingly run your hands through that stupid mohawk so many times…

"No…"

A strained lament escapes your lips before your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

This time it's Ghost who steps in your way, taking advantage of your shock to wrap his strong hands around your forearms in order to prevent you from both stepping further and collapsing on the ground.

Your head is shaking in a frantic manner, your breathing growing more ragged by the second. Your eyes are wide open, blood turning to ice in your veins as panic takes hold of you.

"No, no, no, no…"

You sound like a broken record. You can't seem to be able to say anything else. Your mind is empty. Your tongue tied.

Your fingers turn white at the force you use to grab Ghost's vest. You want to shove him out of the way too but this time your arms fail you.

"Fuck off! Get out of my fucking way!" you start yelling at him, forcefully hitting him on his chest with your hands clenched into fists. You don't even know what you're saying or what you're doing. You have no control over the way your body is responding to the shock and grief.

Ghost doesn't flinch, he keeps holding you in place. Your eyes meet his for a fleeting moment and you notice the hurt in them. That rare sight only worsens your distraught state.

Your head starts shaking again, from side to side, rejecting this heinous turn of events - as if you're unwillingness to accept what's happening would change things, bring him back… back to you. It's as if you're expecting him to turn around and flash you one of those smirks of his and tell you that it was only a joke, a fucking horrible not funny at all joke… You wouldn't care. You would jump in his arms and hug him tight, delaying the scolding for later.

"Let me… Let me see him." you say quietly, feeling a lump forming in your throat as you reluctantly shake that remote fantasy off your mind.

"LET ME SEE HIM."

You're switching from subdued anguish to pure rage real quick, back and forth without control.

Ghost's hold on you doesn't budge, despite your every attempt to disentangle yourself from his clench.

You hear the sound of Price's voice but the sharp ringing in your ears makes you unable to decipher his words. You can only feel Ghost's hands releasing you a moment after. You don't hesitate even a second to rush to the body and drop on your knees beside him.

Your arms reach for him out of reflex, like you would always do whenever you saw him. But this time he's not returning the gesture. He can't. He won't move.

Your hands visibly tremble as you reach over to grab his head and turn it your way. Your heart stops once again. You feel something gnawing at the mouth of your stomach, a weight settling there.

"Johnny…" you call out to him in a soft whisper just like you would do every morning to wake him up while running your fingers along his features and through his dark hair.

"Johnny…"

He would always wake up in an instant, as if your touch was the power button to his body. And he would greet you with that beautiful smile of his that would light up even the darkest of days. And he would caress your face, eyes gazing adoringly at you before he would whisper: "Mornin' sunshine."

Your hands cup his cheeks as you lean forward to level your face with his. Your eyes search his bottomless blue gems, but all you're met with is a blank look, a lifeless look. There’s no spark anymore. No lighting up upon seeing your face like after each mission when you would rejoin.

You grab his hands in yours. The same hands that have comforted you, protected you, pleased you, worshiped every inch of your body… His touch was always warm. You would joke about it with him. He had once proclaimed himself your personal radiator and pulled your shaking body against his, simply to have another reason to touch you.

You bring one calloused palm to your face, longing for that same comfort again… but its warmth is fading. His hand is growing cold. The touch is foreign to you. You don't recognize it anymore.

"Please… Wake up …"

You're deliberately avoiding looking at the hole in his forehead. It's like your brain is preventing you from even getting a glimpse of it. If you don't see it, it's not there. Right? It's not there.

Just like the crimson blood leaking from his head is not his. No. No… He's killed plenty of those bastards. It’s their blood. And he's now taking a well deserved rest… Yes. That must be it. He's simply resting. With his eyes open… his pupils unmoving…

You bend even forward, arms wrapping around his body, turning him toward you. You pull him closer, holding him tight in your embrace. You cradle his lifeless shell, rocking back and forth in a frantic, desperate motion.

"Johnny… Oh, love… Please… No…. "

Your voice breaks due to the lump tightening in your throat. Your vision starts to blur and you squeeze your eyes closed as you nuzzle your face against his head. Your hot tears merge with his blood smeared on your skin. You feel its metallic taste on your lips but you don't care. You keep cradling him, pressing his body closer to yours as if you want to absorb him into you, to become one thing. To always have him with you.

Incomprehensible laments leave your lips without respite, your cries subdued and muffled by his flesh. You hold onto his frame for dear life as if you're hanging on by a thread.

Your mates silently watch the heart wrenching scene of you mourning your lover, incapable of saying or doing anything that could bring you any comfort. They're mourning too, in their own way. You all have just lost someone too important.

" Why … Why you… How dare you … How dare you leave me… I'm sorry … I'm sorry I couldn't save you… It should have been me … You don’t deserve it… I love you … I love you so much… Please don't leave me alone …"

Your pain surges out of you like a river in flood. Your voice swaying from shock to anger, from regret to desperation…

You can't believe he's gone. You can't accept it. His life taken from him in a blink of an eye as if he was worth nothing. You should be used to it, to the swiftness of lives getting taken on the field, each day. But when it's the person you love the most succumbing to such a crude unfair death… You can't accept it. You won't accept it.

"I will kill him with my own two hands, Johnny… I swear." you whisper against his ear as if you're confessing a secret, your fingers digging hard in his clothes as your voice trembles with pure rage. "I will wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze… squeeze until I can feel his life leave his worthless body. Until I can see his eyes roll back.” The words come out of you in one breath, spat with venom through your teeth.

“I promise you that."

"Y/N…"

You hear Price's warm voice call out to you. The hint of protest in his tone makes you snap your head in his direction and pin him with a wild- eyed look filled with anguish.

"I WILL KILL HIM." you scream in an outburst of fury, then as if all your forces have suddenly left your body, your shoulders slump and your head drops back against your lover's limp form.

You don't say anything anymore, the only sound coming from you is that of intermittent sobs. You hold desperately onto his body, brushing your lips against his cold skin, tenderly kissing his unresponsive lips. You hug him close until he's taken away from you. Or rather, until you're torn away from him by more than a pair of strong hands. You never lose him from your sight, watching with dread as he's secured into a bag and carried away.

Seeing his motionless body being handled and dragged away like that is excruciating and it serves as the final blow draining you of your last ounce of vitality; he’s really dead. You won’t see him again, talk to him, hug him, kiss him… You’ve just lost the lifeblood to your existence, the ray of sunshine brightening up your days and propelling you to keep going.

You start to feel faint. Your vision flickering and turning black, your body slumping forward toward the ground.

You see Johnny. Yes, your Johnny , promptly kneeling down in front of you, ready to catch you in his arms, to comfort you, take care of you. You smile feebly at the familiarity of the scene, before you close your eyes and abandon yourself to the darkness.