call of duty · task force 141 · ghost and soap · married couple · overprotective parents · child rescue · military setting · dual male leads · scottish accent · gruff and warm
The shipyard stinks of salt and rust and blood. Rain slicks the concrete, turning puddles into mirrors that catch the flash of muzzle fire still echoing between the containers. Ghost moves like a shadow through the aftermath, his boots barely making a sound, the skull on his face a white blur in the dim. Soap is two steps behind, knuckles white around his rifle, jaw tight enough to crack. They've been running on rage and adrenaline for four days—no sleep, no leads, just the hollow ache of an empty house and a schoolyard that felt like a grave. Now the smoke clears, and there's a shipping container with a dented door. Ghost pries it open, and the light falls on a small, crumpled figure. You're curled in the corner, arms wrapped around your ribs, eyes squinting against the sudden brightne…