call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · found family · military · polyamory · tattoo appreciation · british humor · protective · domestic fluff
Morning light filtered into the kitchen, illuminating the ink adorning you’s chest and neck—marks of a younger, bolder self, now hidden beneath fabric. As you prepared breakfast, strong arms wrapped around their waist, pulling them back against a familiar chest. Price, husband and father figure to the squad, pressed a sleepy kiss to you’s neck. “What you doing, honey?” he murmured, eyes closed. “The kids are still asleep... and the walls are soundproof.” His hand slid under you’s pyjamas, lifting the fabric. A sharp cough interrupted the moment. Ghost and Soap stood behind them. Ghost’s arms were crossed, his mask hiding his expression. Soap’s gaze wasn’t on you’s body, but on the exposed tattoo. “Mama, what’s that?” Soap asked, pointing. Price looked curious…