Hi!!! I have had this soap idea for a month now and its driving me crazy :,) i would love a fic of this if youre okay with it and accepting requests!!!
Okay! So in the original mw2, there's a scene where they are chasing Rajas through alleys and stuff and at one point they say he's getting away to which soap says through comms "no he's not" and jumps through a window and tackles the dude off a balcony and on to the top of a parked car.
I was thinking if reader, who has a huge crush on soap (can be og or remastered soap bc i love them both equally), watched it happen and found it extremely attractive. When they all get back to base, she avoids soap like the plague so she doesn't embarrass herself bc of how flustered she is about the whole ordeal. Soap notices and asks the guys for advice on what's wrong with her. Ghost, being blunt as ever and tired of them dancing around each other, tells soap straight up that reader obviously got turned on by his actions and cant face him. Soap immediately hunts down reader and corners her into confessing. Ends in fluff and smut :,)
Hello my love!!! I'm so sorry this took me as long as it did, but here it is! I hope you like it! (also, it's long, sorry)
(I went with OG Soap because PHEW - Captain MacTavish is HOT)
CW: None really? P in V, Quickie
The alley reeked of dust, smoke, and burnt metal, the city's chaos busy vibrating under her boots. She ducked behind a low wall, her heart hammering not just from the run but from the way her eyes kept finding him. Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish moved like he owned every scrap of danger that edged around them - reckless, brilliant, a storm in human form.
"Rojas' gettin' away!" one of the comms shouted, urgency splitting through the static.
"Nah, he's no'," Soap growled back, the rasp of his accent cutting through the gunfire. Before anyone could blink, he was vaulting through a shattered window, glass and dust exploding around him. She barely caught the blur of his silhouette before he hurled himself off a balcony, slamming the target onto the roof of a parked car below. The impact rang through the alley - metal warping and glass giving, her pulse spiking like a gunshot.
For a long second, she stood frozen. Everything in her body burned with the aftershock - half adrenaline, half something much, much hotter. His sheer audacity hit her harder than the firefight ever could. The sound of his voice, the power behind it, the sight of him moving without hesitation - it all tangled in her chest until her breath came short and sharp. She forced herself to look away, jaw tight, hands trembling as she reloaded. But even then she could still see him, the way he stood there on the wrecked hood like he was carved out of the chaos itself, looking up at her with that damn roguish grin.
By the time they got back to base, her composure had shattered somewhere along the way. She couldn't meet his eyes. Couldn't risk it. Every time she heard his voice echo down a corridor, her stomach flipped. She found excuses to disappear - reports, gear checks, anything. The image of him jumping through that window played on loop behind her eyes. The crack of glass. The hit. The smirk. The sound of him breathing hard over comms.
Soap noticed. Of course he did. He always did.
"Oi," he said to Ghost, leaning against the wall, those thick arms folded, still carrying that mission-born electricity that hadn't left him. "Whit's wrong wi' her, then? Been avoidin' me like I've grown a second heid."
Ghost's response was flat, almost bored. "She's got a thing fer ya, Johnny. Saw the way she looked at'cha when you went through tha' window. She's flustered, mate. Can't face ya."
Soap blinked once. Then twice. A grin ghosted over his mouth, slow and knowing. "Ye're jokin'."
Ghost stared back. "Do I look like I joke?"
The captain let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Bloody hell… lass thinks I look good bleedin' an' crashin' through glass. Tha's a first."
But he didn't let it rest there. His boots hit the floor with a purpose as he left the common area, scanning until he found her near the supply lockers, pretending to busy herself.
"Fancy seein' ye here," he said, voice dipping into something softer, though no less intense.
She spun, eyes wide. "Captain-"
"-Johnny," he corrected, stepping closer, just enough that the space between them crackled. "An' don't bother hidin'. Ghost already told me."
Her throat went dry. She tried to back up, but the lockers pressed cold against her spine. Soap leaned in, close enough that she could smell the lingering dust and gun oil on him, see the flecks of grit on his jaw. His gaze locked hers, unwavering.
"Ye dinnae need tae be embarrassed, lass," he murmured. "Aye, I saw ye lookin'. Nothin' wrong wi' it."
Her breath caught, a quiet sound swallowed by the hum of the lights overhead.
The tension between them hummed, thick and restless, the world narrowing to that single heartbeat. She felt the pull in her chest - the same wild energy that had carried through the fight, now turned inward, hotter, heavier. And when he smiled - small, crooked and impossibly sure - all she could do was breathe.
The lights in the hangar had gone soft, most of the team scattered to showers or bunks. The buzz of the generator was the only sound left. She sat on a crate, half-cleaning her rifle, trying to make her hands stop shaking.
Footsteps- the heavy, steady kind. She didn't need to look up to know who it was.
"Ye're still awake," Soap said from the doorway. His voice was quieter than it had been earlier, rough at the edges.
"Mm- Couldn't sleep."
He came closer, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the last of the mission. "Ye've been avoidin' me all bloody day."
"I have not-"
"-Aye, ye were." He crouched beside her, elbows on his knees. "Ye can tell me why, or I'll keep guessin' till dawn."
Her jaw clenched. "You already know what Ghost said."
Soap gave a low hum, part laugh, part sigh. "Aye, he did. But I dinnae want his words. I want yours."
She looked at him then - really looked - and the smirk she expected wasn't there. His expression had softened, eyes steady but not teasing. That threw her more than any grin could have.
"I just-" she started, then stopped. "It was stupid. You jumped off a balcony, Soap. You could've died." Avoidance to the third degree.
"But I didnae," he said, smile flickering again. "An' if I remember right, ye were the first one down there makin' sure I hadn't cracked my skull."
"That's not the point."
"Maybe no'." He leaned in a fraction. "So what is the point, lass?"
She exhaled, the truth slipping out with the breath. "You scared the hell out of me… and it was-" Her throat tightened. "It was impressive, alright? You move like you don't even think about it. It's hard not to notice."
Soap's eyebrows lifted, but he didn't gloat. "That all?"
Her pulse stumbled. "No. But that's all you're gettin'."
He laughed under his breath, low and warm. "Fair enough." He stood, offering a hand to pull her up. She hesitated only a moment before taking his hand. His calloused palm closed around hers, warm and rough with battlefield grit. But instead of just helping her stand, he pulled - one firm, deliberate tug that sent her stumbling forward into his chest.
"Captain-" The word caught in her throat as her body collided with his, solid muscle under worn fatigues. Her hands instinctively braced against him, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt.
His free arm slid around her waist, steadying but not releasing her. "Still want tae pretend, mm?" His lips brushed against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "I ken what ye were thinkin' about when ye watched me today," he whispered, his voice dropping to a gravelly rumble. "How ye couldn't take yer eyes off me. How ye wanted me to handle ye the same way I handle everything else - with no hesitation, no restraint."
Her knees nearly buckled. Heat flooded her face, neck, everywhere his words touched.
"An' if ye're wonderin'," he continued, that Scottish burr thickening with each word, "I'm very, very interested in explorin' that look ye gave me. The one that said ye wanted me to pin ye against somethin' solid."
"Soap- fuck-" she gasped, but the rest dissolved when his teeth grazed her earlobe.
"Tell me tae stop," he challenged, but his hand was already sliding up her side, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through her shirt. "Tell me I'm wrong."
She couldn't, didn't want to either. Not with his body pressed against hers, not with her fingers already curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. Her head fell back, exposing her throat, which he immediately claimed. His mouth hot and heavy, lips pressing a smile against her flesh like he'd done it a thousand times. His mouth blazed a trail down her neck, leaving her skin burning in its wake. She clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the solid muscle there as he pressed her back against the lockers. The metal clanged softly, a warning they both ignored.
"Someone could-" she gasped as his teeth grazed her collarbone but the protest died in her throat when his hand slid beneath her shirt, his rough palm skating over her ribs.
"Aye, they could," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire. "Does that make ye want tae stop?"
She answered by pulling his face up to hers, crushing her mouth against his. He tasted like adrenaline and gunpowder and she drank him in greedily. His stubble scraped against her chin as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her whimper into his mouth.
"Christ," he breathed, breaking away just enough to look at her with darkened eyes. "The sounds ye make hen-"
She silenced him with another kiss, one hand sliding into his short hair, the other fumbling with his belt. Soap groaned. His hands were suddenly everywhere at once, rough palms sliding beneath her shirt, yanking at her belt. She gasped as he hoisted her up against the lockers, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The metal rattled behind her but neither of them cared anymore.
"Need ye now," he growled against her throat, his accent thickened by desire. "Right fuckin' now."
Her fingers fumbled with his zipper, desperation making her clumsy. "Then take me."
They moved in a frenzied blur, clothing pushed aside rather than removed. He braced her against the lockers with one powerful arm, the other guiding himself to her entrance. She was already slick, already ready for him, her body humming with need that had been building since that moment in the alley And when he thrust into her, she bit down on his shoulder to muffle her cry. The sensation was overwhelming – the fullness, the heat, the way his breath hitched against her ear. He paused for only a heartbeat before finding a rhythm that matched the wildness in them both.
"Christ," he hissed, his forehead pressed against hers, each thrust driving her higher against the lockers. Every movement was urgent, was primal, nothing like the calculated control he showed in the field. This was raw and desperate. His fingers dug into her thighs, leaving marks she'd certainly feel tomorrow. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper and the lockers rattled loudly with each thrust, metal clanging against metal. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"Let me hear ye," he growled. "Wanna hear what I do to ye."
When she hesitated, he changed the angle, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids. A whimper of a moan escaped her throat before she could stop it, and he smiled against her neck, pleased with himself.
"Tha's it," he encouraged, his rhythm growing more erratic. "Christ, ye feel amazin'."
She tangled her fingers in his hair, dragging his mouth to hers to muffle her sounds. Their mouths collided, kisses were messy, desperate, teeth clashing as they both chased release. The tension coiled tighter in her belly, heat spreading through her limbs.
"Johnny," she gasped against his lips before gently biting them. His name from her lips was his undoing. Soap's grip on her thighs tightened, his fingers digging deeper as his rhythm faltered. He drove into her with newfound urgency, his breathing ragged against her neck. "Fuck, I'm close," he growled, his voice strained and raw. "Tell me ye want it."
"Yes, christ, yes" she gasped, clinging to his shoulders. "Don't stop- please- Johnny, please!"
He thrust once more, burying himself completely inside her with a guttural moan that vibrated through her entire body. She felt him pulsing, the heat of his release triggering something deep within her. The sensation pushing her over the edge, her body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through her.
"Johnny!" His name tore from her throat, echoing against the metal lockers as her orgasm shuddered through her. Her nails scrapping across his back, leaving marks even through his shirt.
For several heartbeats, they remained frozen together, trembling against each other. The only sounds in the hangar were their labored breathing and the distant hum of distant generators and machinery. His forehead rested against hers, their sweat mingling as they both struggled to regain control.
"Lass," he finally murmured, his accent thicker than she'd ever heard it. His eyes, when they met hers, were surprisingly soft despite the intensity of what had just happened.
She felt herself blushing, the reality of their situation fulling bearing down on her now. A soft laugh escaped her throat, bubbling up from somewhere warm and liquid inside her. Soap caught it, as always, his own chuckle rumbling against her skin as he gently lowered her feet back to the ground, hissing as he slipped from inside her, his arms still wrapped around her waist.
"Well," she whispered, her legs trembling slightly as they took her weight again. "That was-"
"-Overdue," he finished, pressing his lips to her temple. His touch had transformed, the urgent passion giving way to something tender that made her heart twist in her chest. He trailed feather-light kisses along her hairline and down her jaw, his hand cradling the back of her head. His gentleness was almost more overwhelming than his passion had been.
"This isna just a one-time thing," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and certain. "I dinnae want ye thinkin' that."
Her breath caught. "No?"
"Nay." He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his own darkened with lingering desire but also something deeper, more possessive. "I want ye. All of ye. Not just like this." His thumb traced her lower lip, still swollen, still wet. "I want ye as mine, my hen, my lass."
She felt something inside her shift, like a gear finally settling into place. The warmth that spread through her chest had nothing to do with their frantic coupling against the lockers and everything to do with the way he was looking at her now – his eyes soft yet fierce.
"Yours," she whispered, her voice steadier than she expected. "God, Johnny, I've been yours since I watched you jump through that damn window." She pressed her palm against his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath her fingers. "I thought I was going crazy, trying to hide it."
His smile broke slowly across his face, lighting his eyes in a way she'd never seen before. Not the cocky grin from the battlefield, but something genuine and almost boyish. "Aye? And here I thought I was bein' subtle," he murmured, leaning into her touch.
The absurdity of it – Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish, the most unsubtle man in the entire task force – thinking he'd been anything close to discreet, struck her all at once. A laugh bubbled up from her chest, spilling past her lips before she could stop it and he joined in. Their foreheads still pressed together, the hum of the generators and the promise of a wild future now hung in the space between them.
"Maybe let me jump with you next time, yeah?"
"Aye."
Hope you enjoyed!~ Thanks so much for the request love!
