„Good Bloody Woman“ (Soap x reader)
Summary: You take a bullet meant for Soap, shattering your mask and exposing the face you've hidden from Task Force 141 for months. Separated from the team in the aftermath, you're forced to fight your way out together. Meanwhile Soap struggles to come to terms with just how close he came to losing you.
Words: 3581
It was hard to make sense of what had happened in the last thirty seconds. One moment, you were in the tunnels with Task Force 141, trying to stop Makarov's bombs. The next, the world had erupted into chaos.
Gunfire.
Shouting.
Your ears rang violently, drowning out almost every sound around you. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision. It felt like a dream to you.
Something warm trickled down the side of your face.
Blood.
Just great.
With a groan, you pushed yourself up onto one elbow. Your head felt like it had been struck by a train.
"What the hell..." you muttered.
Fragments of black material right on the ground around you. Your mask. The one you wear to every mission. Barely taking off while off duty.
Or what was left of it.
Memory crashed back into you all at once.
Makarov.
The gun.
Soap.
The gunshot.
Your stomach dropped. You forced yourself to your feet. The world tilted dangerously. For a moment, you thought you were going back down. Pain pounded behind your eyes. You ignored it. Through the loud trains running in the background, shapes slowly came into focus.
Price.
Ghost.
Gaz.
And Soap.
Relief hit you immediately. Alive. This bloody idiot was alive. You took a step toward him. Then another.
"Soap?"
The sound of your own voice seemed to snap something inside him. His head whipped toward you. Blue eyes locked onto yours. For a second, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The tunnel suddenly felt impossibly quiet. You frowned. Something was wrong.
The way he was looking at you–
Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Like if he blinked, you'd disappear.
„MacTavish?"
You barely got his name out before he was moving. The distance between you vanished. Strong arms wrapped around you. One hand pressed against the back of your head. The other locked around your waist.
You froze.
So did everyone else.
Soap wasn't a hugger.
Not like this. For a moment, he didn't say anything. His grip only tightened. As though he was making sure you were real. As though letting go meant losing you.
"You idiot."
The words were rough. Almost angry. You felt him exhale shakily.
"I thought..."
His voice broke. Just for a second.
"I thought ye were gone."
The memory hit you once more. The gun. The shot. Your mask breaking apart. The look on Makarov's face. Slowly, you lifted a hand and rested it against Soap's arm.
"I'm alright."
"No, you're not."
His response came immediately. You almost smiled.
"I'm standing, aren't I?"
"You got shot in the bloody head."
"Technically, the mask got shot."
"That is not helping your argument."
For the first time, he pulled back slightly. Just enough to look at you. And then he froze. You knew why.
The mask was gone.
::::
Months.
Months of questions.
Months of dodged answers.
Months of him trying – and failing – to figure out what you looked like beneath the damn thing. And now there was nothing left to hide behind. His eyes searched your face. Taking in every detail. Like he was trying to memorize it. Like he was afraid he wouldn't get another chance. The thought made your chest tighten.
"Johnny."
His gaze snapped back to your eyes.
"You alright?"
You nearly laughed. You had blood running down the side of your face. A pounding headache. A concussion, probably.
And he was asking if you were alright.
"I'm fine."
It was a lie. One he clearly didn't believe. Before he could argue, Price's voice cut through the tension.
"Everyone still breathing?"
"Unfortunately," Ghost replied.
Gaz snorted.
The moment shattered. You were grateful for it. You needed a second to breath. The way Soap had been looking at you was doing strange things to your pulse. Before anyone could say another word, a deep rumble echoed through the tunnel. Your brow furrowed.
"What was that?"
The sound came again.
Louder. A horrible screech of metal against metal. Price's head snapped toward the tracks.
"Move."
The single word sent everyone into motion. Then the headlights appeared. Far too close. The train shot around the bend. For one brief second, it looked like it would make it through. Then sparks erupted beneath the wheels. The rails gave way.
"Oh, bloody hell," Gaz breathed.
The front carriage lurched sideways. Metal screamed. The entire train slammed into the tunnel wall. The impact shook the ground beneath your feet. You barely had time to react.
"Down!"
A hand grabbed the back of your vest.
Soap.
The force of his pull sent both of you crashing to the ground. Something massive struck the wall where you'd been standing less than a second earlier. Concrete exploded outward.
You threw your arms over your head. The tunnel roared around you. Then suddenly–
Weight.
Heavy weight.
A body shielding yours.
Your eyes widened.
Soap.
He'd practically thrown himself on top of you. One arm wrapped around the back of your head, forcing your face against his chest while the other shielded the back of your neck.
The protective hold was so immediate, so instinctive, that for a second you forgot about the train entirely. More debris crashed around you. A chunk of concrete hit somewhere nearby.
The impact sent dust flying over both of you. Still, Soap didn't move. Didn't loosen his grip. If anything, he held on tighter. The tunnel continued to shake.
After some seconds who felt like minutes it was silent. Or as close to silence as you were going to get. For several seconds neither of you moved. Your heart hammered against your ribs.
You became painfully aware of two things.
One:
You were alive.
Two:
John was still lying on top of you.
"...Johnny?"
No response. You frowned.
"Soap."
A groan. Good. He was alive. Before you could say anything else, Ghost's voice echoed through the dust.
"MacTavish!"
A cough.
Then:
"You two alive?"
Soap finally lifted his head.
"Aye!"
His voice sounded rough. Dust covered his hair. His eyes immediately dropped to you. Checking. Only when he seemed satisfied did some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"You fine?" he asked.
You stared at him. Then at the position you were currently in. Then back at him.
"Other than being crushed by a Scotsman?"
For the first time, a corner of his mouth twitched.
"Good. Ye can still complain."
Only then did he finally help you sit up.
::::
With a firm grip, Soap pulled you to your feet, his hand holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. You looked around at the destruction left behind by the crash. Dust still hung thick in the air as you took everything in.
The tunnel was barely recognizable. Large cracks ran along the walls, chunks of concrete scattered across the ground. Cables hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly and sending occasional sparks into the darkness.
The derailed train blocked most of the tracks, its twisted metal groaning every now and then as it settled into its new position.
"Fucking hell."
The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them.
"That's an understatement."
Gaz's voice echoed from somewhere on the other side of the wreckage. You stepped closer to the train, trying to find a gap large enough to squeeze through.
There wasn't one. At least not one that wouldn't get you crushed. Price appeared through the dust on the opposite side.
"Can you get through?"
Soap's eyes swept over the wreckage. Then over you. Then back to the wreckage.
"No."
His voice was firm.
"The whole thing's wedged against the tunnel wall."
A shower of sparks rained from somewhere overhead as if to prove his point. Ghost glanced beneath one of the carriages.
"What about underneath?"
Soap immediately shook his head.
"Too dangerous."
The train let out another groan. Metal shifted. Everyone instinctively stepped back.
"One wrong move and the whole bloody thing could come down."
Price's jaw tightened. He knew Soap was right. You crossed your arms.
"So what's the plan?"
For a moment nobody answered. Then Price pointed further down the tunnel.
"There should be maintenance access routes connected to the service tunnels."
Soap nodded.
"Aye. We'll find another way around."
His gaze drifted back to you again. Almost unconsciously. You caught it immediately. Of course you did. You'd been catching him staring ever since you'd gotten back on your feet. At first, you'd blamed the concussion. Now you weren't so sure.
"Got something to say, MacTavish?"
The question slipped out before you could stop it. Gaz immediately made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Soap blinked.
Like you'd dragged him out of his own thoughts. Then he cleared his throat.
"No."
You raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"No."
His answer came a little too quickly. Ghost looked away. Price pinched the bridge of his nose. And for the first time since the train crashed, the tension eased – just a little.
:::::
Leaving the rest of the team behind for now. You and Soap made your way toward the maintenance tunnel, hoping it would lead back to the main line. Every few steps, you had to climb over broken concrete or duck beneath hanging pipes.
Eventually, you reached a collapsed section of the tunnel.
Soap climbed over first with practiced ease before turning back to face you.
"Careful."
You rolled your eyes but accepted the hand he offered.
Balancing yourself on the uneven concrete, you carefully climbed over the rubble. The drop on the other side wasn't far but with your head still pounding, it felt a lot higher than it probably was.
As your boots slipped from the edge, Soap caught you by the waist. Steadying you before your feet touched the ground.
For a second, his hands stayed on your hips.
"The gentleman of the century," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Only for ye."
His eyes did not left yours for a moment. Then, almost as if he'd just realized he was still holding you. Soap cleared his throat and stepped back.
"Come on," he muttered, turning toward the tunnel. "We've got a team to find."
"Yeah," you replied quietly.
Your heart refused to calm down. Still racing from the look he'd given you only moments before. Trying to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks, you pushed the thought aside and hurried after him. Catching up within a few strides.
From time to time, Soap glanced back as the two of you made your way through the underground passages. At first, you assumed he was simply making sure you were still behind him.
It would've made sense. The tunnels were dark and unfamiliar. But there was something about the way he looked at you. His eyes focused on you a little too long.
Almost as if he was searching your face. As if he still couldn't quite believe you were standing there. The silence between you stretched on, broken only by the sound of your boots against the floor.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore.
"What's wrong?" you asked.
Soap looked over his shoulder.
"What d'ye mean?"
"You keep looking at me."
He hesitated. Just for a second.
Then he looked ahead again.
"...How's yer head?"
You reached up, brushing your fingers against the dried blood near your temple.
"Hm." You shrugged. "Still attached."
Silence. You looked up. Soap had stopped walking. You nearly walked into his back but you could stop in time. You watched him. His jaw was clenched. His blue eyes fixed on you with an expression you'd never seen before.
"That's supposed to be funny?"
Your smile faded.
"I was only–"
"Ye took a bullet."
His voice wasn't loud. If anything, it was quieter than usual. Which somehow made it worse.
"You threw yourself in front of me."
"It hit the mask."
"It still hit ye."
You sighed.
"I'm alive."
"Barely."
"I've had worse."
"No."
His answer came instantly.
"You've never had worse."
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Soap took a slow breath.
"Don't ever do that again."
His words were firm. Almost pleading. You looked at him.
"What?"
"Don't throw yourself in front of a bullet for me."
You held his look.
"I'd do it again."
His expression hardened.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"If it means you get to go home?"
You shrugged.
"I'd make the same choice."
Soap looked away, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"...Christ."
"You would've done the same for me."
"Aye."
He didn't hesitate.
"That's the problem."
"Then stop arguing with me."
You were done with this conversation. You couldn't bear the thought of what would've happened if you hadn't acted. If you'd hesitated for even a second...
Soap would've been the one lying on the ground instead of you. You hadn't thought. You'd simply reacted. Instinct had taken over. And if you were ever faced with that choice again–
You'd make the same one.
Every single time. With a frustrated sigh, you furrowed your brows and continued down the tunnel. Leaving Soap standing there for a moment before he silently fell into step beside you.
::::
Lost in thought, both of you walked next to each other. Your shoulders were still tense from the discussion. Soap kept his focus on the path ahead, but from time to time his thoughts seemed to drift as well.
Every now and then, he looked back at you like before. His blue eyes stayed on yours. You avoided his look as much as you could, keeping your eyes fixed on the ground ahead.
Both of you came to an abrupt stop as the sound of footsteps echoed through the tunnel. They were coming your way.
Within seconds, the two of you slipped back into the routine you knew so well.
No words were needed.
Soap moved to the left, taking cover behind a cracked concrete pillar, while you ducked behind a pile of broken stones a few feet away. Your rifle was already raised, your finger resting lightly against the trigger.
The footsteps grew louder. Slow and careful. Whoever was coming hadn't spotted you yet.
You exchanged a quick glance with Soap. A silent understanding passed between you. On his signal, you'd move.
Your eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead. Watching the dark tunnel with unwavering focus. The footsteps grew louder with every passing second.
Your finger rested lightly against the trigger of your rifle. Ready to fire the moment a target appeared.
You held your breath, making yourself as still as possible. The last thing you needed was to give away your position before they stepped into view.
Another footstep.
Then another.
Then the footsteps stopped.
The tunnel fell completely silent. You glanced over at Soap. His blue eyes met yours for only a second.
That was all it took.
He gave you a short nod.
The signal.
You burst from behind cover just as he did. The tunnel exploded with gunfire. Your rifle kicked against your shoulder as you squeezed the trigger. The first soldier stumbled backward, collapsing before he had the chance to return fire.
Soap had already taken down another.
The remaining soldiers reacted instantly, diving behind the concrete walls as bullets tore through the narrow passage.
The air filled with gunfire and shouted commands. The two of you moved together without hesitation.
Years of training. Months of working side by side. Neither of you needed to speak. You simply knew where the other would be.
::::
To be fair...
You had promised yourself you would do everything in your power to protect him.
What you hadn't promised...
...was not to take another bullet for him. Deep down, you already knew the truth.
If it came down to his life or yours–
You'd choose him. Every single time. Even if he hated you for it. Even if he'd never forgive you. You knew one thing for certain. He would absolutely lose his mind if you did something that reckless again.
So how was it fair...
...that the moment you saw the enemy raise his rifle toward Soap, your body moved before your mind could stop it?
"Johnny!"
You shoved him sideways. The shot rang out. Something hot tore past your face. So close you could feel the heat of the bullet against your skin. For a split second, time seemed to stop.
Soap stumbled, catching himself before turning back. One shot. Then another. The last of Makarov's men collapsed to the ground.
Silence.
You barely had time to lower your weapon before Soap spun around to face you. His expression made your stomach drop.
It wasn't just anger.
It was fear. Raw, unmistakable fear.
"THE FUCK WERE YE THINKIN'?"
His voice run through the tunnel. You'd never heard him shout like that before. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath heavier than the last. His rifle hung forgotten at his side as he closed the distance between you.
"YOU NEARLY GOT YOURSELF KILLED. AGAIN."
"I told you I'd do it again!" Your own voice matching his volume for the first time. You didn't back away.
You didn't lower your head. Instead, you stared straight into his eyes, refusing to give an inch.
"If it means you're still standing here, then I'd do it again!"
"The hell is wrong with ye?" Soap shouted back, throwing his hands into the air. "Do ye have a death wish?"
"No!"
"Then stop throwin' yerself in front of bullets!"
"I was protecting you!"
"And who the bloody hell is protecting you?"
The words hit harder than either of you expected. Only your heavy breathing filled the tunnel.
You clenched your jaw.
"You would've done the exact same thing."
"Aye!"
Soap didn't even hesitate.
"I would have!"
"Then why are you shouting at me?"
"Because I can live with me getting shot!
"But I can't, you stupid fuck."
You didn't even have time to react before he closed the distance between you. Within seconds, his hands cupped your face as his lips crashed against yours.
Without hesitation, you kissed him back. Your hand found the back of his head, pulling him closer as though you were afraid he'd disappear if you let go. One of his hands slid down to your hip, holding you firmly in place. Making sure you couldn't pull away.
The kiss was heated, driven by every ounce of fear and frustration that had built up between you. Neither of you cared who had kissed whom first anymore. You simply collided with each other again and again. Desperate to make up for the words neither of you had been able to say.
Between kisses, soft gasps escaped your lips as neither of you seemed willing to let the other go.
"Soap..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought for air.
"No."
The word was final. Before you could say another word, his lips found yours again. His hand tightened around your hip while the other remained cupping your face. Holding you exactly where you were.
He'd nearly lost you twice today.
Twice.
He wasn't about to let you out of his arms now. Not until he was certain you were still Infront of him. That you were breathing. That your heart was still beating beneath his fingertips.
His kisses softened for only a moment before becoming desperate again. Pouring every ounce of fear and relief into them. For the first time all day. He finally had you in his arms.
And he had no intention of letting you go.
:::::
Your lips were swollen from the force of the kiss. Your eyes met his as his rough hand continued to cradle your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your skin.
Reluctantly, the two of you pulled apart. Both trying to catch your breath. Soap couldn't help but stare at you. He wished he'd kissed you sooner. It was like getting a taste of something he'd never known he needed.
Now that he had, he wasn't sure he could ever let it go.
"Good bloody woman," he muttered after a long moment of silence. A soft smile spread across your lips.
"Yeah?"
His own smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You better get yerself ready." You frowned.
"For what?"
"Because from now on, I'm keepin' ye where I can see you."
You couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh? Is that an order, Sergeant?"
"Damn right it is."
"And if I don't listen?" A grin spread across his face. "Then I'll just have to follow ye everywhere." You rolled your eyes with a smile.
"That sounds exhausting."
"For you, maybe."
He took your hand without a second thought, intertwining his fingers with yours.
"For me?" He shrugged. "Worth it." You looked down at your joined hands before glancing back up at him.
"You know Ghost's never going to let us live this down."
Soap groaned dramatically.
"Christ..."
You laughed.
"He's going to have a field day."
"Yeah."
A beat passed.
"...Still worth it."
Your smile only grew wider. "C'mon," Soap said, giving your hand a gentle tug. "We've got a team waitin' on us."