you were basically the mom of the task force. you cared, cooked and sometimes did laundry for soap, gaz, price, alejandro, and ghost.

they all called you “mama” and other soldiers have been catching on. soap even went as far as to ask you to change your callsign to “mama”.

one day, (which you didn’t know was mother’s day) you were making some dinner for soap, gaz, price, alejandro, and ghost, who were all sitting on the two brown leather sofas.

you noticed on the counter next to the stove where you were stirring a pot of spaghetti, was a small stack of cards. all handmade, horribly drawn versions of you, with “HAPPY MOTHER’s DAY” written in all soap, gaz, price, alejandro, and ghost‘s different handwriting on the cards.

you glanced up at them, raising a brow and sighing. “what is this pile of cards, guys..” you asked, sounding exasperated.