Faustian

I'm always updating this post. _________________________________________________

Signed in Blood <- list is finished and has 16 chapters. TF141 x Y/n (gender not mentioned) Word Count: 21,934 TW for "Signed in Blood" before reading -> TW: Medical trauma, Non-consensual medical procedure, organ theft, Loss of bodily autonomy, Betrayal by trusted figures, manipulation, Chronic pain, disability aftermath, Emotional distress, anger, grief, War-related injury, combat violence, Coercion, lack of consent under duress.

__ No Whore, just Horror |Tf141 x reader| (unfinished) (No smut, no romance, just fear)

TW: Fear response, anxiety, psychological tension, paranoia| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6?

__ Price x You | "We're not Married!"

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Price x You | "We're not married!" "We're married."

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | (Discontinued - Next)

Price and his Missus

His seat | His lunch | His coffee | His sandwich | Your Gym Confession | What kind of Protection?| "Sharing gum... and the doomed third wheel" | "Luck or skill? Either way, lucky wife" | "Last Blow-" | "Embarrassing Mom" | "Avocado and clean Bird" | "Piss Story" | "Bedtime Rant" __

Found Family with TF141 (x young!reader)

(Read this first) "Name the dog"

"Día de los Muertos" (Day of the Dead)

"Trick or Treat!"

"Haunt House"

"Resting Face"

"Bring the kid to the bar"

"Kindness turned to disappointment"

__

Price x You | Overprotective

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

__

TF141 x Hybrid!You | Current word count: 49,803

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29?? |

__

TF141 x Y/n!Shifter

"Round Plum Bird" | "Wolf and their Rotisserie Chicken" | "Wolf Teeth" |

__

Every time the team is at the bar (One shots)

You date red flags

Soap's one nightstand story

Ghost said something outta pocket

Soap's drunk gay bible quote

The walk home after the bar

You get drunk and taken by a civilian

You lose everything after getting drunk in Manchester

"Hope is Temporary. Bigotry is Forever"

__

{One Shots}

Ghost x Y/n

Price x Y/n

Price's daydream

TF141 and Tinder

Nikolai's Grounded Wisdom

Price Edging you

TF141 | Push pop

Ghost x Y/n "Not a thing"

TF141 Deployment

"Inner Monkey"

TF141 x Y/n "Two in One"

Price x Y/n "Thailand"

Ghost x Y/n "Dirty Fallen Angel"

Price x Young!Y/n "Dino Captain"

TF141 x Young!Y/n "My... my precious"

Simon's "Ghost" Riley - "The Better Version of Me. The Doppelganger."\

Ghost x Y/n | Walk him like a Dog

__

(Unrelated to TF141 x Hybrid!Y/n, but you can think of it as a side story. If you think Y/n as a dog/wolf hybrid) ________________________________________ The courtyard of the base was rarely peaceful, but the current cacophony was particularly unhinged. Soap MacTavish was currently flat on his back in the grass, letting out a series of undignified yelps as Y/n, the hybrid dog was in a state of high spirited euphoria, their eyes gleaming with predatory joy. To the dog, this was a magnificent game; to Soap, it felt like being hunted by a sentient landslide.

"Lad! Get 'er off! It got the hem, Ghost! It's havin' a go at me trousers!" Soap bellowed, his fingers digging into the dirt as he tried to maintain some semblance of dignity while beast's jaws clamped firmly onto his gear.

Nearby, Ghost stood with his arms crossed, watching the chaos with a mask of stoic amusement, though he made sure to stand a respectful distance away. He knew better than to intervene when Y/n was in a 'playful' mood.

The sound of tearing heavy duty fabric echoed across the courtyard like a gunshot. With one final, violent jerk of their neck, Y/n succeeded in their mission. The seam of Soap's trousers surrendered completely, the fabric shredding under the sheer force of the dog's pull. In an instant, the sergeant was left exposed to the cool air of the yard, his pants effectively reduced to useless rags clutched in Y/n's teeth.

"Bloody hell!" Soap gasped, scrambling to cover himself with his hands, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson. "The beast has stripped me bare! Ghost, don't just stand there gawping, a little help?!"

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | ________________________________________________ The duffel sat open on his desk. It wasn't much. A change of clothes, field gear, a med kit he didn't think he'd need but packed anyway, a second sleeping bag, weather gear, and camping supplies.

"Right." He muttered under his breath. "Simple." A few days out in the wilderness, quiet, no interference. Just him and...

"Ah." Price stood beside the driver's side door, keys in hand, staring at the passenger seat. Nikolai was already sitting there comfortable and settled. Like he'd planned to be.

One arm slung casually over the door, sunglasses on and not even pretending this wasn't deliberate.

"Why..." Price said slowly. "Are you in my truck?"

Nikolai didn't move. Didn’t even turn his head. "You are going camping, yes? I am coming."

Price: "No, you're not."

Nikolai finally looked at him then, calm as anything. "But I was invited."

Price went still. "By who."

Nik glanced back at the backseat.

"I did."

Price shut his eyes, slow inhale, slow exhale. He turned his head.

In the back seat, Y/n had claimed the right side near the window, half curled but angled toward the sunlight pouring in. Their eyes were closed, ears relaxed, tail loosely draped along the seat.

'Innocent. Absolutely, completely, not innocent.' Price looked back at Nik.

Nik gave him a small, satisfied smile.

Price muttered under his breath. "...It's supposed to be me and Y/n."

"I'll improve the experience." Nik replied.

"You'll sabotage the experience." Price scowled.

Nikolai considered that. "Little bit."

Price stared at him another second before opening the driver's side door with visible resignation. "If you play music without asking, I'm leaving you at a gas station."

Nik waved one hand vaguely. "You say this now. But by hour three, you will beg for entertainment."

Price started the engine. "I'd rather drive off a cliff."

From the backseat, without opening their eyes, Y/n spoke quietly. "Can we stop if we see cows."

Price glanced in the mirror. "Why?"

Y/n: "I like them."

Nikolai nodded solemnly. "Reasonable."

Price looked between both of them and immediately understood he'd lost control of this trip before it had even started.

Deployment leave felt strange after months of routine. No radios crackling in the background. No briefing schedules. Just open road. The truck rolled steadily along the highway while late afternoon sunlight poured gold across the dashboard.

Y/n had eventually shifted fully into the corner of the backseat, face tipped toward the warmth coming through the window. One ear flicked every now and then whenever they heard something interesting.

Price glanced in the rearview mirror once. 'Still asleep. Or pretending to be. Hard to tell sometimes.'

Nikolai, meanwhile, had made himself entirely too comfortable.

"You know..." He said conversationally. "This is first family road trip."

Price's grip tightened slightly on the wheel. "Say that again and I'm turning this truck around."

Nik smiled faintly. "Ah. So defensive. Very paternal."

Price bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to stop the response before it left his mouth.

From the backseat: "What does paternal mean?"

Price closed his eyes briefly before looking back at the road.

Nikolai looked delighted. "It means." Nik said helpfully. "Your papa is-"

"Don't." Price warned immediately.

Nik ignored him. "-Behaving like father animal who does not realize he is father's animal."

Y/n: "You're a father to an animal?"

Both Nik and Price turn in their seats, giving Y/n a glance. _ The first stop happened because Y/n spotted a roadside fruit stand. "Stop."

Price barely reacted. "No."

Y/n: "Please?"

Price: "..."

Nikolai leaned casually against the window. "Captain. They said magic word."

Price sighed through his nose and pulled into the gravel lot.

The stand itself was tiny. Fresh peaches, strawberries, homemade jams, flowers in metal buckets, and hand painted signs that looked like they'd been there since the seventies.

Y/n stood very still beside one table, staring.

Price noticed immediately. "See something you want?"

Y/n: "They're just… here."

Price frowned faintly. "Aye?"

Y/n gestured vaguely. "People just leave fruit outside."

Nik smiled slightly behind them. "This is called trust."

Y/n looked deeply suspicious of that concept.

An older woman running the stand noticed them hovering and smiled warmly. "You three passing through?"

Price answered automatically. "Something like that."

Y/n stared at the peaches like they'd never seen so many at once.

The woman noticed. "Go ahead, sweetheart." She held one out. "Try it."

Y/n looked immediately at Price first. Permission.

Price nodded once. "Go on."

Y/n accepted the peach carefully with both hands like they'd been handed something important. Then bit into it. Their ears shot up instantly.

Price looked back in time to see genuine betrayal on Y/n's face.

Y/n: "It's sweet."

"That is usually how fruit works." Price said dryly.

Y/n looked horrified. "Why didn't anyone tell me."

The woman behind the stand looked openly charmed now. "Honey, where have you been all your life?"

Price answered before Y/n could. "Complicated places."

The woman accepted that answer easier than she should have.

Y/n quietly picked up another peach.

Price paid for six. __ The next stop was a small roadside diner two towns later.

Y/n learned that civilian waitresses would call you "sweetheart" regardless of rank or combat ability. And when their food arrived, Y/n stared openly at Price's plate. Then at Nikolai's. Then back at their own. It was not subtle. It was a full investigative comparison.

Price cut into his food. "What?"

Y/n pointed without hesitation. "Why do you have more?"

Price didn't even look up. "I don't."

Nikolai leaned forward slightly, inspecting the plates. "Ah." He nodded once. "This is American portion sizing."

Y/n frowned. "Is it wrong?"

Price exhaled through his nose. "It's unnecessary."

Nikolai, entirely unhelpful, added, "It's the emotional compensation for hunger that does not exist."

Price shot him a look. "Don't start."

Y/n stared at their plate again, then very carefully at Price's. "So yours is… normal."

Price hesitated. Just a fraction. "…Yes."

Nikolai immediately hummed. "He's lying."

Price didn't even deny it. He just cut into his food harder than strictly necessary.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself as he watched Price aggressively attempt to disassemble his own meal. Then, casually, he tapped his fork against the edge of his plate. "You know, Captain-"

Price didn't look up. "Eat your food." __ By the time the sun started lowering, the truck was quieter.

Y/n had settled back into the rear seat again, this time awake and watching the scenery pass by with slower, calmer interest than before.

Occasionally they asked questions.

Why do people put giant fake animals outside restaurants.

Why was there a store only for mattresses.

Why did civilians willingly drive tiny cars.

Nikolai answered every question with complete confidence whether the answer was correct or not.

Price had to intervene three separate times. "No, Y/n, pigeons are not government employees."

"They watch." Nikolai defended.

Price glance at Nik before looking back at the road. "Stop teaching them conspiracy theories."

Nikolai spread his hands. "I teach possibilities."

Price: "They are pigeons."

Nik: "They are suspicious pigeons."

From the backseat, Y/n looked thoughtful.

Price immediately pointed a finger toward the rearview mirror. "No."

Y/n blinked. "I didn't say anything."

Price: "You were about to."

Y/n: "I was."

Price sighed.

Then a sharp inhale. Not a normal one. A full body gasp.

Y/n: "COWS!"

Price nearly swerved.

Y/n was halfway over the seat now, face pressed to the window. "COWS!!!"

Nikolai twisted around immediately. There were, in fact, cows. A whole field of them. Black cows, brown cows. One particularly large cow standing near a fence looking profoundly unconcerned with the existence of mankind.

Y/n: "Pull over."

Price didn't even hesitate as truck rolled onto the shoulder beside the fence line. Before Price had even fully parked, Y/n scampered out of the truck and launched themselves onto the gravel.

Y/n: "COWS!"

Price opened his door. "Y/N!"

They were already halfway to the fence.

Y/n: "COWS!"

Price: "Y/N!"

The cows, meanwhile, continued existing with complete indifference.

Price stepped out of the truck. "Don't touch the fence!"

Y/n either didn't hear him or chose not to. Neither possibility improved his mood. Their tail was practically wagging behind them as they hurried toward the pasture.

Price started after them. "Y/n!"

Y/n reached the fence.

Price immediately pointed. "Do. Not. Touch-"

Too late. Y/n grabbed the wire.

SNAP.

Y/n: "YEEEEE!"

Y/n achieved a height previously thought impossible. They launched backwards with a startled screech, ears puffed, tail exploding into twice its normal size. For one glorious second they appeared to forget how gravity worked. Then they landed on their backside in the grass. The cows looked mildly interested.

Price stopped walking.

Nikolai chuckled from inside the truck, slapping the outside of the door. "Oh no." He kept laughing. "Oh, that was beautiful."

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nikolai."

Nik: "I warned nobody because this outcome was funnier."

Y/n: "I didn't know it was electric."

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's why I said don't touch it."

Y/n: "I thought you meant normal don't touch it."

Price: "What other kind of don't touch it is there???"

Y/n with a blank face, glancing at the fence and back at Price. "The lying kind."

Nikolai completely lost it again. "Cub is so funny." Nikolai wiped a tear from the corner of one eye.

Y/n cautiously approached the fence again.

Price immediately pointed. "No."

Y/n: "I wasn't going to touch it."

Price: "You were thinking about it."

Y/n: "I was."

Price sighed.

Behind the fence, one of the cows slowly lifted its head and stared at Y/n. Y/n stared back. "Can I pet one?"

Price: "No."

Y/n: "Why?"

"Because it's not yours."

Y/n frowned.

"You know." Nik said thoughtfully. "This is actually good lesson."

Price groaned immediately. "Here we go."

Nikolai ignored him. "You see cow."

Y/n nodded.

Nik: "You want cow."

Another nod.

Nik: "You touch fence."

Y/n's ears lowered.

Nik: "You receive consequences."

Price folded his arms.

Nikolai nodded sagely. "This is how wisdom is formed."

Y/n considered that. "...The wisdom is don't touch electric fence."

Nik: "Exactly."

Y/n pointed at the cow. "And if I want the cow?"

Nikolai smiled. "Then first you learn where the gate is."

That actually made Y/n pause. A slow, thoughtful expression crossed their face.

Price watched the realization happen. The fence wasn't there to stop them forever. It was there to make them use the proper path. 'Huh.' For once, Nikolai had accidentally taught something useful.

Y/n looked back at the cow. The cow looked back. Then, very solemnly, Y/n lifted a hand and waved. The cow immediately turned around and walked away.

Nikolai barked out another laugh.

Price actually felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "Rejected." ____ Elsewhere, several hundred miles away, the trip had gone very differently.

The moment the front door opened Soap has become Johnny- barely made it two steps inside before being dragged into a hug by his mother.

Mum: "You're too thin."

Johnny: "Mum, I've been here thirty seconds."

Mum: "Too thin."

Behind Johnny, Simon quietly stepped inside carrying half the luggage. Soap's mother spotted him immediately. "Oh, Simon!"

Ghost had faced armed insurgents, enemy snipers, and explosives with less concern than the expression aimed at him. "Hello, ma'am."

Mum: "You look thin too."

Ghost accepted his fate. _________________________________________ Part 29?

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Act 1: Going AWOL: Valid Crashout

Beginning of story -> Chapter 1 | Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3 | or Check out the entire -> list and Alternate Routes. (There are different 5 Routes.)

Do not read if you have not read Chapter 1. TW: Graphic violence, Murder, Medical trauma, Non-consensual medical procedure, organ theft, Loss of bodily autonomy, Betrayal by trusted figures, manipulation, Chronic pain, disability aftermath, Emotional distress, anger, grief, War-related injury, combat violence, Coercion, lack of consent under duress. Word Count: 1,890 ___________________________________________ The engine ticked as it cooled in the quiet of the parking structure. Y/n sat behind the wheel, unmoving. The hospital loomed ahead. The same sterile white glow bleeding into the night like nothing inside had ever gone wrong.

Y/n's hands rested in their lap. A gun. A knife. Heavy. Real. Grounding. For a long moment, they didn’t move. They just breathed. Slow in. Slow out.

It still hurt.

A dull, constant ache buried beneath their ribs, like their body never quite forgot what had been taken from it. Their thumb brushed absentmindedly over their side, pressing lightly against the scar beneath their clothes. The skin there was uneven. The memory came whether they wanted it to or not.

White lights. A pen forced into their hand. Price's voice urgent and pressing. "Sign this. Now."

Y/n hadn't even been able to see. Hadn't understood or consented.

For years, they'd lived with it. The infections, the fevers, the weakness that crept into Y/n's daily life. Hands that shook when they tried to do something as simple as lace their boots. A body that refused to keep up with the life they’d once had.

They'd told themselves it was the bullet. That they were lucky to be alive. That it was enough. A humorless breath slipped past their lips. "Lucky." Their grip tightened slightly around the handle of the knife.

They remembered the briefing room. Laswell's voice, casual. Careless. "If you never gave Soap your organ…" The words echoed again, just as sharp as when they’d first heard them.

Y/n's fingers curled. They hadn't given anything. It had been taken. Their gaze lifted slowly, fixing on the hospital entrance. Someone inside those walls had known.

Had read the chart, signed the forms, prepped the operating room, held them down while their body was opened and altered without permission.

Someone had looked at them; barely conscious, barely breathing and decided: "This one is expendable."

The gun shifted slightly as they adjusted their grip, checking the weight without really looking at it. The knife followed familiar, balanced. Tools. Nothing more.

Their expression didn’t change. No anger twisted their features. No visible rage. Just something quiet settled.

Then the car door opened with a soft click. Cool air slipped in, brushing against their face as they stepped out. The door shut quietly behind them. They didn't look back. The hospital lights reflected faintly in their eyes as they started forward.

They’d already adjusted before stepping out of the car. The jacket was neutral, unremarkable. A mask covered the lower half of their face, the kind no one would questioned. A badge clipped at their chest, borrowed replicated, good enough at a glance.

They walked in. No one stopped them. A nurse at the front desk glanced up briefly, eyes flicking over them before dropping back to her screen. A gurney rolled past, wheels squeaking softly against polished floors. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped in steady.

Life moved on here. It always had. Y/n's gaze stayed forward. Left turn. Past the waiting area. Down the corridor that branched toward surgical. They remembered. Not in full pictures, but in fragments. Enough to map the place out in their mind. Enough to know where to go.

A pair of doctors passed them, mid conversation, voices low and distracted. Y/n didn't look at them. Not yet. They reached the staff hallway and pushed through the door, the badge catching the sensor just enough to trigger the soft click of access granted.

Inside, it was quieter, dimmer, private. The hum of machines replaced the distant chatter. The walls here weren't for visitors. No comforting artwork. No soft colors. Just function and purpose.

Y/n exhaled slowly. Their hand brushed briefly against their side again. The ache flared sharp for a second, then settling back into its usual thrum. They kept walking with that reminder.

Their grip on the knife loosened slightly as they moved, the blade angled down, hidden against their side. The gun stayed tucked, secondary.

This required precision. Y/n turned the corner. A nurse stood at the far end of the corridor, back half turned, scanning something on a tablet. Focused and unaware. The soft blue glow lit her face as she tapped at the screen, lips moving faintly as she read.

Y/n stopped a few steps behind her. The nurse didn't notice at first. Why would she? People moved through these halls constantly. Footsteps meant nothing. Y/n reached out. One hand clamped over her mouth before the sound could form. The other caught her wrist, twisting. The tablet slipped from her grasp, clattering softly against the floor, the sound muffled against the polished surface.

Her body jerked, panic surging fast and immediate. She tried to scream, only a choked, breathless noise made it past Y/n's hand.

"Don't." Y/n said quietly, close to her ear.

The nurse froze. Y/n's grip didn't loosen. "Do you remember me?" Y/n asked. Y/n's hand shifted just enough for her to speak.

Her breathing came fast now, sharp against their palm. Her eyes darted, trying to see their face, their badge, anything recognizable. "I… I don't-" The words were muffled, barely formed.

"Emergency surgery." Y/n said. "Gunshot wound. You held my hand. You told me it would be okay."

"I- I help a lot of patients-" She tried again, voice trembling. "I was just doing my job..." Her breathing hitched. "I was trying to help-" She said quickly, words tumbling over each other now. "I was told-" she started, voice cracking. "We were told it was authorized-"

Y/n’s grip tightened. "By who?"

The nurse's breath stuttered under Y/n's hand. Her body trembled, not fighting anymore- just trying to think, to survive. "I- I don't-" She choked, eyes wide, wet. "The attending- the surgeon- they said it was cleared, it was urgent- we didn't have time-"

"Names." Y/n said.

"Dr. Young." She whispered, voice breaking. "He signed off..."

Y/n's hand slipped back over her mouth before she could say anything else. The knife came up in the same motion quick, efficient. The blade pressed in just under her ribs, angled upward. Her body jerked hard against Y/n. Y/n held her steady. Firm. Keeping a patient from thrashing. The knife pushed in deeper. Slow enough for her to feel it. Her fingers clawed weakly at Y/n's sleeve, strength already slipping, legs buckling under her. Y/n adjusted their stance, lowering her carefully so she didn't hit the floor too hard.

No noise. Her breathing stuttered, then hitched. Y/n stayed there a moment longer. Just holding her. Making sure they let go. The body settled against the floor.

Y/n straightened slowly, rolling their shoulder once like easing out tension. Their gaze dropped briefly to the nurse face slack, eyes half open, confusion still frozen there.

Y/n crouched, retrieving the fallen tablet. The screen was still lit, patient charts open, schedules, staff logs. "Dr. Young... found you.." _ The first office door was slightly ajar. Light spilled out into the hallway in a narrow strip. Y/n stopped just short of it, listening. Paper shifting. A chair creaking. The faint scratch of a pen. Working, unaware, and alive.

Y/n pushed the door open. The doctor inside barely looked up at first, eyes still scanning the chart in his hands. "You're late with-" He stopped. Confusion flickered across his face when his gaze lifted fully.

Y/n closed the door behind them with a soft click. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"…Can I help you?" He asked, cautious.

Y/n stepped closer. "Do you remember me?"

The doctor frowned slightly, searching their face. "I'm sorry, I see a lot of-"

"Tunnel incident." Y/n said quietly. "Emergency surgery. Gunshot wound."

The doctor's posture straightened a fraction. His grip on the chart tightened. "I'd have to check records-"

"You didn't." Y/n cut in again.

Silence. The room felt smaller suddenly. "You didn't check anything," they continued, voice still even. "You signed off anyway."

The doctor's eyes sharpened now, unease creeping in. "If this is about your treatment, you'll need to file-"

Y/n asked. "Was I conscious?"

The question landed heavy and direct. He hesitated.

That was all the answer Y/n needed. "Did I understand what I was signing?"

No response.

The doctor shifted back slightly, chair wheels scraping faintly. "I think you should leave."

Y/n's head tilted, just slightly. "You knew."

The doctor's mouth opened, then closed again. His eyes flicked not to Y/n, but past them. The door. The distance. The doctor's chair rolled back an inch.

"You read the form." Y/n continued. "You saw the condition I was in. You signed anyway."

"I saved your life." The response came too quickly and defensive.

Y/n's expression didn't change. "You altered it."

The doctor stood abruptly now, the chair bumping into the desk behind him. "Listen, whatever you think happened-"

"I don't think." Y/n said. Their hand moved. The knife came up, the metal catching the light for half a second before it disappeared again between them. The doctor inhaled sharply, stepping back, but there was nowhere to go.

"You knew." Y/n repeated, quieter now.

The doctor's composure cracked. "Wait-wait, we can talk about this-" The doctor's hands flew up, a useless shield of flesh and bone against honed steel.

The blade met the soft hollow beneath his ear with a wet, grating whisper. It was not a stab, but a draw, a terrible, deliberate caress. Y/n pulled the edge across with steady, unyielding pressure.

For a second, there was only the sound of parting tissue a sick, deep rasp like tearing canvas. Then the blood came, not in a spray, but in a sudden, hot torrent, a crimson curtain unleashed from a severed seam. It sheeted down the front of the doctor’s white coat, turning the fabric into a sodden, dripping maroon.

The doctor's eyes bulged, a silent, incredulous scream trapped behind them. His mouth gaped, working soundlessly as a grotesque, bubbling gurgle erupted from the new, grinning second mouth that now spanned from ear to ear. He stumbled back, hands fluttering to his throat as if to hold the ruin together, his fingers sinking into the hot, slippery mess. He hit the edge of the desk, sagging, his legs giving way. A final, wet sigh escaped him, a sigh that carried a fine mist of blood into the sterile office air. He slid down, leaving a thick, glistening smear on the cabinet behind him before collapsing onto the floor

Y/n looked down at the knife in their hand. The blade was painted a deep, gleaming red. They watched a single, perfect bead of blood gather at the tip, elongate, and fall to join the pool on the floor.

The dull ache beneath their ribs was still there. It would always be there. But for the first time in years, it was not the loudest thing in the room.

They turned, stepped over the growing crimson puddle, and opened the door. The quiet click of the latch engaging behind them was the only sound as they walked back into the humming, indifferent light of the hallway.

-- Next -> Act 2 of Route 6. Going AWOL: Valid Crashout (Coming soon.)

Beginning of story -> Chapter 1 | Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3 |

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | (I'm sorry its really short for waiting ten days for this part...) ________________________________________________

Y/n stared at the page for a long moment. "They all sound… the same."

Price let out a quiet breath through his nose. "Aye. That's bureaucracy for you."

Y/n's gaze drifted over the page again, slower this time. "Garrick. MacTavish. Riley." Then their eyes lifted slightly. "Why are they here?"

Price adjusted his grip on the folder. "Because I thought you should have a choice."

Y/n frowned faintly at that. "But I don't know what they mean."

"Doesn't matter." Price said. Then, after a beat. "They're people you know."

Y/n looked down again. Quiet. Thinking too hard for something that wasn’t built for thinking in this way. "What would you pick?"

"That's not how this works." He said.

Y/n: "Why not?"

"Because it's yours." He said, a little sharper than intended. Then he softened it immediately, exhaling. "It has to sit right with you, not me."

A long pause stretched between them.

Y/n asked again, softer this time. "But what would you pick."

"Y/n." He said exhausted. "They're just labels, please just pick one." Y/n's eyes dropped back down. "…This one." Y/n pointed out. Price closed the folder slightly, then reopened it like he needed to confirm he was still in control of the situation. "You sure?" He asked, hunched over to get on Y/n's level. "I know Soap would've-"

"I'm sure." Y/n interrupted.

Price let out a slow breath through his nose and looked away for a second. Price held the pen over the line. For a moment, he didn't move. Then he signed. Not fast. Not careless. The pen stopped. He set it down.

Y/n stared at the page for a second longer, then looked up at him again. "Is that it."

He mumbled. "For now..." Closing the folder slowly.

Y/n tilted their head slightly. "What happens now."

"Now." He said, "I take this back to Laswell. She'll run it through the proper channels. Paperwork gets processed, stamped over by people who've never met you." Price huffed faintly through his nose. "In short… we wait." Price shrugged one shoulder like that was the end of it. "Not very exciting."

Then Price cleared his throat once. "In the meantime..."

Y/n's ears flicked toward him.

Price shifted his weight slightly, already sounding like he regretted opening his mouth. "If you decide you don't want to go with MacTavish…" He gestured vaguely, like the idea hadn't been fully formed before he said it. "We could go somewhere else. A few days. Off base."

"Where?" Y/n questioned.

"Camping. I know a good place for it. Real nice for hunting." He answered.

Y/n stared at him for a long second. Then, very plainly. "You're bad at hunting."

Price: "W-what?"

Y/n didn't even hesitate. "You are."

Price's brows pulling together. "Based on what."

That stopped him.

Y/n looked at him like the answer was obvious. "Uncle Nik showed me."

Price shifted on his feet to really face Y/n, attention narrowing. "He showed you… what."

Y/n gestured vaguely with one hand. "The video."

"What video." He said a little frustrated with a flattened expression.

Y/n shrugged one shoulder. "The one where you missed."

A pause. Price's jaw tightened slightly. "Missed what."

Y/n: "The deer." Another pause.

"Which deer." Price asked, voice going dangerously even.

Y/n thought about it like they were sorting through files. "Big one."

Price's eye twitched. "…This narrows it down immensely." He said flatly. "I don't know why I bothered to ask that."

Y/n continued, unbothered. "You tripped."

Price went very still. "I did not-" He stopped himself mid sentence, inhaled through his nose, and tried again. "Explain."

Y/n: "You were aiming."

Price: "Aye."

Y/n: "Then you slipped."

Price: "I did not slip."

"You did." Y/n said, completely certain. "Your foot went-" Y/n made a small sliding motion with their hand. "And then you fell."

Price stared at them. "…I adjusted my footing." He said, very controlled.

"You fell." Y/n whispered.

Price pressed his tongue briefly against the inside of his cheek, physically stopping the first response that wanted to come out. "Y/n." He said their named sharply. "Give me the full context. Immediately of what you saw."

"You were in the woods." Y/n began, as if narrating something profound. "Uncle Nik was filming. You said something-"

Price: "What'd I say."

Y/n squinted slightly, trying to remember. "Something about… wind and then you said 'this is how you do it properly'." Y/n continued, completely unaware of the damage they were doing. "Then you slipped. The gun went up. The deer ran. Uncle Nik laughed." A Pause. "Shot in 4k." Another pause. "Actually in 480p. But you get what I mean."

Price bit the inside of his cheek again, harder this time, like he was actively suppressing several words that had no business being said within a fifty meter radius of Y/n. His posture shifted subtly, but unmistakable irritation threading through it now. "Right..."

Y/n added, almost helpfully. "You also said a bad word."

Price inhaled sharply through his nose. "Did I?" His voice tight.

Y/n nodded again. "Yes."

A pause. Price looked off to the side for a moment, jaw working, then back at Y/n. "…We are not discussing that further."

Y/n: "Okay."😊

Price walked away about 6 feet before turning back around, down to Y/n. "Firstly." He said, pointing once with his finger. "That was one incident."

Y/n: "Whatever you say."

Price stared at them. Then very slowly, very deliberately, he turned his head slightly like he was looking for something in the air. "…I'm going to have a conversation with Nikolai."

His body language said that 'conversation' would not be polite.

Y/n watched him. "So you're bad."

Price snapped back immediately. "I. Am. Not. Bad."

"You are." Y/n said, calm as anything.

"I am not." He repeated, firmer now.

"You are." Y/n said again, because apparently this was the hill they were willing to die on.

Price dragged a hand down his face.

Y/n just stood there, watching him with that same quiet, unwavering focus. Waiting.

Price dropped his hand and fixed them with a look. "You've seen one piece of highly selective, deeply compromised footage-"

"You fell." Y/n cut in.

His eye twitched.

Y/n tilted their head slightly. "Did you get the deer."

Price stared at them. "…No." He said flatly.

Y/n nodded once, like that confirmed everything. "So you're bad."

"That's not-" He stopped himself again, jaw tightening. There was a visible pause where several very colorful words were considered… and rejected. Barely. "Right." He said, voice going very calm. "That's it."

"What?" Y/n said ears pinned back.

He pointed japed his finger at their shoulder. "You are going camping."

"But family." Y/n said distraught.

"No family." Price said immediately, flat and final.

"Whhhatttttttt." Y/n said with ears lowered and pulled back.

"No MacTavish household. No Scottish interrogation. No potatoes." He started pacing once, already committed to this out of sheer stubborn momentum. "We are going somewhere quiet, controlled, and entirely free of Nikolai’s… archival material."

Y/n watched him, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Because you fell?"

"I did not-" Price cut himself off again, inhaling sharply through his nose. His jaw tightened. "That is not the point."

Y/n said out of... concern. "It sounds like the point."

"It is not the point.' He said, slower now, like he was choosing each word with extreme care to avoid saying something he'd regret. "The point is you've drawn a conclusion based on incomplete data."

Y/n tilted their head. "You didn't get the deer."

Price closed his eyes for half a second. Regret. Deep, immediate regret for engaging in this conversation at all. When he opened them again, his voice had gone very calm. Dangerously calm. "We are going camping."

Y/n stared at him. "So you can prove you're good."

Price didn't even hesitate. "Yes." Then immediately. "NO." He paused. "…Yes."

Y/n: "…You're not good."

There was a long, silent inhale. Price tuned and walked away. This time, faster. His hand coming up to cover his mouth for a second not to hide a smile, but to physically restrain whatever response was about to come out.

Behind him, Y/n followed after a second, still curious, still entirely unconvinced. Or perhaps just for the rage bait.

Y/n's tail wasn’t dragging anymore. _________________________________________ Part 28 | (This little treat of the plot came from an Anonymous ask on Apr 14 :3 )

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | ________________________________________________

The next day, Price didn't sleep much when he walked into Laswell’s office, she didn’t look surprised to see him. She rarely did.

"You're early." She said without looking up from her screen.

"I'm punctual.." Price corrected.

Laswell finally glanced over. "You're avoiding your own bed."

Price didn't answer that. Instead, he stepped forward and placed the folder on her desk. It landed with a soft thud.

Laswell paused, then reached for it. "What am I looking at?" She asked, already opening it.

"Intake." Price said flatly. "For the literacy support. Dependent educational access."

She flipped through the pages once. Then again, slower. Price stood there while she read. He didn't like waiting for people to form conclusions about things he couldn't undo. Finally, Laswell leaned back in her chair.

"John."

"Kate."

She held up the folder slightly. "This is not just paperwork. This is a classification step."

"I'm aware."

Laswell studied him for a moment longer, then set it down carefully. "Alright." A pause. "Now we deal with the part you're not going to like."

Price exhaled through his nose. "There's always a part I’m not going to like."

"That's because you keep adopting problems and calling them personnel." She replied calmly.

That earned a faint look from him.

Laswell opened a lower drawer, pulling out a slim file. "We can process educational support under an unofficial designation. That part's easy."

She tapped the folder he brought in. "But identity documentation is not."

Price's jaw tightened slightly.

"Y/n doesn't exist in any system we can safely use without raising questions." She continued. "No birth record. No national ID. No stable origin file we can lean on."

"I know." Price said.

Laswell nodded once, like she expected that answer. "So we have two options."

She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk.

"One: we assign them a temporary operational alias for internal use only. It keeps things clean, but it doesn't solve anything long term."

Price's eyes narrowed slightly. "And the second?"

Laswell didn't hesitate. "We formalize a civilian identity."

Price: "Meaning...?"

"Meaning they get a name, a birthdate, and a legal identity that can survive outside this base if it ever needs to." She tilted her head slightly. "School records. Medical coverage. The works."

Price's expression shifted slightly. "That's not simple."

"No." Laswell agreed. "It isn't."

Price said, quieter than before. "And the name part of that is my decision."

Laswell's gaze sharpened a fraction. "Yes."

He exhaled slowly through his nose. "That's the issue."

"I assumed." She said.

Price rubbed a hand over his beard once, then looked down at the desk between them.

Then she added. "You're considering giving them your surname."

Price didn't answer immediately. That was answer enough.

Laswell watched him for a second longer. "That carries weight."

"I'm aware." He said again, quieter this time.

Laswell leaned back slightly. "You could also assign them a neutral civilian name. Something unconnected. Clean start."

Price’s eyes lifted slightly. "And pretend they aren't already connected."

Laswell didn't push back on that. "Or you could choose someone else's name."

Price's brow furrowed slightly. "Explain."

Laswell opened the file again, flipping one page over like she was thinking aloud. "You have options within the unit." She said. "Garrick, MacTavish, Riley. I'm know they wouldn't mind, they love Y/n as much as you wouldn't admit it. Less personal implication for you."

Price looked away slightly.

Laswell watched him carefully. "Or you give them your name and accept what that implies."

Price let out a slow breath, that was the problem. Everything carried meaning now. Even avoiding it. For a moment, he didn't speak. "They don't understand what any of this means yet."

"No." Laswell agreed. "But they will."

Price's fingers tapped once against the edge of the desk. Then stopped. "What would you do?" He asked. "if it were your decision?"

She leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes drifting, not on him anymore. Like she was pulling the answer from somewhere that didn't usually get involved in operational decisions. "…If it were my decision." she repeated quietly. Laswell's mouth pressed into a thin line for a second, then eased. "I'd probably make a mess of it." She said, almost dry.

That earned the faintest shift in Price's expression.

She huffed a small breath through her nose. "I'm not exactly an unbiased source here, John." Laswell glanced down at her hands, then back up at him. "I wanted kids." She said plainly.

That… wasn't what he expected. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just listened.

Laswell tilted her head slightly, like she was acknowledging something she didn't usually say out loud. "Still do, if I'm being honest." A beat. "Life just… didn't line up that way."

"I have a wife. We've talked about it. Timing, work, the kind of lives we lead." She gave a small, almost humorless smile. "Turns out running intelligence operations and raising a child don't schedule well together."

Laswell went on anyway. "So if you're asking me what I would do?" She met his gaze properly now. "If I had a kid already standing in front of me, trusting me, looking at me like I was… that person?"

"I wouldn't hesitate." She said.

The room felt different now. Laswell rarely talked about anything personal unless it mattered.

He looked down at the folder again. The edges were already slightly worn from handling. Too many decisions pressed into too few pages. Price exhaled slowly through his nose. Price's fingers tapped once against the desk, then stilled. "You're telling me to choose emotion over structure."

Laswell shook her head slightly. "No." A pause. "I'm telling you that structure is already failing here. You're just the one being asked to pretend it hasn't."

His gaze drifted briefly toward the window behind her. Gray sky. "…You're assuming I can just make that call." He said finally.

Laswell leaned back slightly. "I'm assuming you already have. You’re just arguing with yourself."

Laswell watched him for a moment longer, then softened her tone just slightly. "John."

He exhaled through his nose. "Don't."

"I'm not pushing you." She said. "I'm pointing out what you've already done."

Price's jaw tightened. "I haven't done anything yet."

Laswell gave him a look that didn't agree, but didn't argue either. "You brought me a fully completed intake form for a dependent literacy program that requires legal responsibility, structured oversight, and long term educational planning."

Silence settled between them again. Price's fingers tapped once against the folder. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "If I put my name on this…" He exhaled through his nose. "It doesn’t just stay on paper."

"It doesn't just stay on paper." Laswell repeated, slower this time. "Not with this kind of situation. Not with someone who's already functionally dependent on you in every meaningful way."

Price's jaw tightened. "Define meaningful."

"They eat because you make sure they eat. They sleep somewhere safe because you decide where that is. They learn because you've decided they should. If something goes wrong, they come to you first. If they're scared, they look for you." Laswell continued. "It also means accountability. If something happens, it's on record. It's yours to answer for."

He stood then. The decision had weight and he was choosing to carry it properly.

Laswell watched him pick up the folder again. Before he left, she spoke once more. "John."

He stopped at the door, but didn't turn yet.

Laswell's voice was quieter now. "Whatever name you choose… make sure it's one you can say without hesitation."

Price didn't look back. "…Aye." he said and then he was gone. _ By the time he finally shut his office door, the sound cut off behind him like a clean sever. He stood there for a moment. Then set the folder down. The desk looked the same as it always did. Too neat in some places, too lived-in in others. A pen rolled slightly against a stack of reports before stopping at the edge.

Price didn't sit right away. Instead, he opened the folder again.

SECTION 1: CHILD / DEPENDENT IDENTIFICATION

Full Legal Name: ________________________

The pen resting between his fingers. He exhaled slowly through his nose. "Right." He muttered to himself. "Let's make a life altering decision before breakfast."

Then, without writing anything yet, he said it under his breath. "Y/n…" It fit in a way that felt too soft for something that had survived as long as they had. He tapped the pen once against the desk.

"Y/n Garrick." He wouldn't mind. Garrick was steady. Reliable. A good name. Gaz would take it seriously.

"Y/n MacTavish." MacTavish. Soap's name. He would make a joke about it. Price could already hear it. "Aye, guess I've got a wee sibling now, don't I?" Then he'd grin like Christmas came early and spend the next ten years calling himself Y/n's brother whether anyone wanted him to or not. Y/n might actually like that.

"…Y/n Riley." Ghost wouldn't say anything about it. Wouldn't object. Wouldn't claim it either. Just that unreadable stare. Then maybe later, in passing, something dry and say. "Poor kid."

Price almost snorted. Not because it was a bad name. Because it was borrowed. All of them were. Borrowed names. Borrowed connections. Borrowed ways of avoiding the truth. He looked down at the form again.

"…Y/n Price." He stared at the page. "Y/n Price." The name sat there. He exhaled sharply through his nose, closed the folder, then opened it again like that might somehow make the answer appear. "Bloody useless." He muttered.

This wasn't a decision he could logic his way through. He'd tried that already. It just looped back into the same problem. Every option meant something.

He stood up. The chair scraped quietly behind him as he grabbed the folder and headed for the door without overthinking it further. If he stopped, he'd stall. And if he stalled, he'd still be standing here an hour from now with nothing filled in and everything weighing the same. _ It didn't take long. Y/n was where they tended to end up when they weren’t being actively supervised. Positioned somewhere they could see without being seen as much. A low wall near the edge of the training yard. They were sitting on it, knees drawn up slightly, watching a group of soldiers run drills like it was something halfway between interesting and irrelevant.

Their ears flicked once when Price approached. They didn't turn immediately. They always knew it was him. Price stopped a few steps away. "Y/n."

That got their attention properly. They looked over, expression neutral but alert, like they were trying to read what kind of interaction this was going to be.

Price held up the folder slightly. "Need a second."

Y/n slid off the wall without question, landing lightly. "Okay."

Price stepped a little to the side, out of the main path of foot traffic, and opened the folder again. He flipped it around so they could see the page.

"With no context." He said evenly, tapping the page once. "You pick one."

Y/n's ears tilted slightly. They looked down. "I can't read." Just stating out the obvious.

"W-well, right..." He adjusted the folder, tapping the paper once with the pen. "Names." He clarified. "Different ones."

Y/n looked back down at the paper, even if they couldn’t read it. Their eyes followed the lines anyway, like they were trying to match the shapes to the people in their head. "Why?"

Price frowned faintly. "Why what."

"Why different ones?"

He exhaled slowly through his nose. "Because if we do this properly, you need a full name. One that goes on record."

Y/n's ears tilted back slightly. "Record?”

"You don't have to worry about that right now. Just pick one."

_________________________________________ Part 27

@bbmgirll @ducks118 @echo9821 @haruskrd @kerst666 @hypertail @1devilbat @goodsoup19 @hayleebugs @imsolotrash @danielle143 @stoner-slut @sheepispink @kitty7kitten @lilynotdilly @snuffstreams @heyitsniki18 @skullcrawler @misscaller06 @hellishbimbo @atlasbatman05 @bubblyskootch @trapdoorfalcon @z-wantstowrite @masterocelot58 @8venusflytrap8 @my-anime-garden @seistrawberrie @magicwriterinspo @lucienofthelakes @sparrowwithaquill @ilovetaquitosmmmm @weathered-and-worn @rinkashirikitateku @spiderfly-tree-rat @butlereyepatchbunny @nothoughtsonlyfanfics @theclassicvinyldragon @theonewhoshallbeunnamed @the-alt-account-for-fics @sleepyghost000 @gabi-the-first @wowtheuniverse @lordbugs @iamaunknownsecret @lyunsafebubble @pipsysstuff @jupiterslastdance @maybe-not-this @smarvolo @burrowedinnature77 @shadowpandas

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | ________________________________________________ Soap shifted his weight, gaze drifting somewhere past them for a moment before he looked back. "You should know what it's like."

Y/n's ears twitched. "Know what?"

"To have a family." Soap said.

Y/n looked at him with furrowed brows of confusion.

Soap rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little less like himself for a second. "A real one, I mean. Not just..." He made a vague motion with one hand, like he was trying to physically gesture at the weird mess of military life around them. "This place."

Y/n looked around, as if the base itself might take offense.

Soap huffed a quiet laugh through his nose. "Don't get me wrong, I love the idiots here... Some of them." He tilted his head slightly. "But this isn't exactly normal, is it?"

Y/n thought about that. "I guess not." They said honestly, though comparing it to the wilderness.

Soap nodded. "Right." He looked at them for another second before getting up. "Deployment'll be wrapping soon. Means we get to go home for a bit before the army remembers I belong to them and drags me back."

Y/n stared at him. "Home?"

"Aye." Soap smiled a little. "Home."

They looked at him carefully, like the word itself was something unfamiliar but interesting.

Soap noticed. Of course he did. His expression softened. "My mum would love you, by the way."

That got a tiny pause out of Y/n. "...What."

Soap grinned faintly. "She would. She'd take one look at you and decide you're too quiet, and clearly in need of being fed every thirty minutes."

Y/n frowned slightly. "I already eat."

"Aye, and she'd still think you don't." Soap said with absolute certainty. "Scottish mothers are built different."

That got a small twitch of their ears.

Soap continued, gentler now. "My sister too. She'll be all over you in about ten seconds. Ask too many questions. Probably bully me in front of you for fun. Might even like you more than me, which frankly would be offensive."

Y/n looked at him for a long second. "Why?"

Soap: "Why what."

Y/n: "Why would they like me."

The question was so plain and so genuine it hit him harder than he expected.

His face changed a little. "Cause you're you." He said simply.

Y/n looked unconvinced.

Soap let out a little breath through his nose and tried again. "Because you're strange in a way my family would consider charming, and because if I brought you home they'd immediately decide you were one of ours now whether I liked it or not."

Y/n's ears flicked once. "One of yours."

"Aye." Soap tilted his head. "That's sort of how family works, sometimes."

They were quiet. Then Y/n asked, very softly. "Would I have to do anything?"

That one nearly made him smile and swear at the same time. He crouched down a little more so they wouldn't have to look up so far. "No, little beastie. Not really." His voice stayed light. "You'd just... be there. Eat food. Probably get sat on a couch and interrogated a bit."

Y/n frowned. "Interrogated."

Soap nodded solemnly. "Terrible stuff. Questions like 'Are you warm enough?' and 'Do you want more potatoes?' and 'Why are you lookin' at Johnny like that, has he done somethin' stupid again?'"

That finally earned the tiniest little puff of breath from Y/n that could've almost been a laugh.

Soap pointed at them immediately. "There it is. Knew you had one."

Y/n looked away like they hadn't done anything.

Soap smiled, but it gentled again not long after. "I'm serious, though."

Their gaze shifted back to him.

"If..." He hesitated just enough for it to feel real. "If Price is alright with it. And if you want. You could come with me on leave for a few days."

Y/n's eyes widened slightly.

Soap kept his tone casual on purpose, like he wasn't trying to corner them into accepting it. "No pressure. Just..." He shrugged one shoulder. "A house. A kitchen. People who'll probably fuss over you until you're sick of it."

Y/n looked at him with that same searching expression they always got when they were trying to figure out if something was a trick.

Soap didn't rush them.

After a moment, Y/n asked, quieter this time, "Is that what family is?"

Soap glanced off to the side for a second, then back at them. "It's not always perfect. Sometimes it's annoying. Sometimes they make you want to fake your own death and move countries." He paused. "But... if it's good, it's the place you can come back to."

Then Y/n asked, in a much smaller voice than before. "Would Price come too."

He rubbed a hand over his mouth like he was hiding a smile. "Christ. If you wanted him there." Soap said carefully, "I think he'd come if he wants to."

Y/n was quiet for another few seconds, then asked. "Can I think about it."

Soap gave them a look of exaggerated offense. "Well, I should hope so. Imagine if you just said yes immediately. I'd think you had no survival instincts."

That earned him the faintest little expression from them. Not quite a smile. But close.

Soap stood fully again and stretched his shoulders. "Come on."

Y/n looked up. "Where?"

"I'm walking you back before you accidentally get adopted by someone else." He started down the path, then looked back over his shoulder when they didn't move. "And before Price starts pretending he's not worried while absolutely being worried."

Y/n hesitated only a second before following.

__

The door opened without much ceremony. Soap didn't knock. "Sir-"

Price didn't look up. "If this is about the rumor, I've already-"

"It's not." Soap paused just inside the doorway, glancing back briefly. "Well. Not entirely."

Price looked up.

Y/n hovered near the door for a second, then drifted toward the couch like it was the safest place in the room, climbing onto it quietly. They didn't interrupt. Didn't speak. Just sat there, watching.

Price's eyes flicked to them first. A quick check. Automatic. "They looked… fine." Still, something in his expression tightened anyway. Then he looked back at Soap. "What is it."

Soap rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a bit less sure of himself than usual. "Right. So, deployment's wrapping soon."

Price: "I'm aware."

"Aye." Soap exhaled once, then got to the point. "I was thinkin'… I could take them with me." Price's eyes flickered towards Y/n. "Taking Y/n? Explain."

"Just for a few days. Let them see what it's like. Proper house. Family. Somethin' normal." He hesitated, then added, quieter. "They asked what a family is, sir."

Price's gaze shifted again, slower this time.

Y/n looked away the second it did, like they hadn't meant to be caught listening.

Price didn't answer right away. His fingers tapped once against the desk. Then stilled. "…And you think that's a good idea." He said finally.

Soap didn't miss a beat. "I do."

Price leans back in his seat. "You're asking to take someone with no documentation, no official status, and no legal identity out of the country."

Soap opened his mouth and then stopped. "…Right." He pauses. "When you say it like that, it sounds… significantly more illegal."

Price's stare did not soften. "Because it is."

Soap huffed a breath through his nose, shifting his weight. "It wouldn't be long. Just a few days. I'd keep an eye on them."

Price sighs. "That isn't the issue."

Soap's jaw ticked faintly. "Then what is?"

Price didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked, again, toward the couch.

Y/n is being very quiet.

Price looked back at Soap. "You'd be taking them out of the only environment they know, into a civilian setting, with people they've never met, under a set of expectations they don't understand."

Soap held his gaze. "Aye."

"And if it goes wrong?"

Soap didn't hesitate. "Then I handle it."

Price's expression didn't change. "How."

Soap paused. That… was a harder question. "I'd..." He stopped, then tried again, more honestly. "I'd figure it out."

Price leaned back in his chair slightly, unimpressed. "That's not a plan."

Soap exhaled, a bit sharper this time. "With respect, sir, neither is keepin' them here forever hopin' they just… pick things up on their own..." Soap looked down at Price's desk, voice dropping a notch. "You're puttin' them in school."

Price: "Kind've. Private instruction. One on one."

Soap nodded slowly, eyes flicking over the forms again. "You already filled it out."

Price: "Working on it."

Behind them, the couch creaked softly.

Y/n had shifted just slightly drawing their legs up, arms loosely around their knees. Still quiet. Still watching. Their eyes flicked between them, following every word like it mattered.

His voice changed again when he spoke, less edge and more careful. "I meant what I said, sir." Soap went on, slower now. "About takin' them. Just for a bit. Let them see… somethin' different." He glanced back at Y/n briefly, then back to Price.

Price didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on Soap for a moment inevitably, to the couch. Y/n had gone quieter somehow. Not withdrawn. Not hiding. Just… listening.

Price exhaled slowly through his nose. "…And you've told them this." He said at last.

Soap didn't dodge it. "Aye."

Price's eyes narrowed slightly. "Without asking me first."

Soap lifted one shoulder. "I said they could think about it. Didn't promise anything."

Price leaned back in his chair, one hand coming up to drag briefly over his beard. "You've put an idea in their head."

Soap: "They already had questions, sir."

"Yes." Price said flatly. "I'm aware."

Silence stretched for a second.

Then, quieter, more deliberate, Soap added. "They asked if you'd come too."

Price's gaze dropped to the papers in front of him like they might offer an easier answer than the one sitting three feet away, small and quiet and listening to everything. "…Did they." He said at last.

Soap didn't soften it. "Aye."

Price didn’t look up for a second, it seemed like he might not respond at all just sit there, pen in hand, eyes fixed on paperwork that had suddenly become far too easy an excuse. "…No." He said finally.

Soap's brow pulled in slightly. "No?"

Price set the pen down with deliberate care. "I won't be leaving base during that window."

Soap nodded slowly, like he’d expected that answer but didn't particularly like it. "Aye. Figured as much..."

That should've been the end of it. It wasn't.

Price sat still for a moment longer, eyes fixed somewhere between the paperwork and the space Y/n occupied on the couch. His attention settled fully on them now. "Y/n."

Their ears flicked at the sound of their name. They looked up.

Price didn't soften his expression, but his voice dropped into something steadier than the conversation had been all afternoon. "You want to go with him?"

Y/n's fingers tightened faintly around their sleeves. "I… don't know."

Y/n swallowed. Their voice came softer. "I want to go with him…" They hesitated, ears angling back a little. "But only if you want to."

Price's gaze sharpened slightly. "Want to what."

Y/n fidgeted with the cuff of their sleeve. "For me to go."

Soap glanced between them, like he was trying to decide whether to interrupt and decided against it for once in his life.

Y/n continued, quieter now, words carefully chosen like they were afraid of breaking something. "Soap said… I could see a family." A pause. "But I don't want to go if it means… I'm leaving you." Y/n shifted slightly on the couch, ears dipping. "I'm not trying to- I just don't want to do something wrong."

Price kept his eyes on Y/n. "You're not doing anything wrong." He leaned back a fraction in his chair. "Come here."

Y/n got up from the couch and crossed the room slowly, like they weren't entirely sure they were allowed to. They stopped a few steps away from his desk.

Price nodded once toward the edge of it. "Closer."

They moved in. Not all the way into his space, but near enough that the desk separated them instead of distance.

Price glanced down at the paperwork still half-finished, then back at them. "Look at me."

Y/n did.

That alone seemed to settle something in him, even if only slightly. "You are not leaving me." Price continued. "If you go with him, you are going somewhere safe. You are coming back. Understood?"

Y/n's fingers curled lightly into their sleeves again. "Yes."

Price studied them for a moment longer, then added, quieter. "And if you don't want to go, you don't go."

Y/n hesitated. "But… Soap said family is important."

"It is!" Soap said immediately, gentle now. "It is."

Y/n looked between them. "Is that… not here?"

The question hit the room like a dropped weight. Soap opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Family isn't one thing." He said. "It's not a building. Not a name. Not a place you go to visit."

Y/n listened, very still.

Price's gaze didn't leave theirs. "It's the people. And what they do. And whether they stay when it would be easier not to." Then, quieter. "You already know what that feels like."

Y/n's ears lowered slightly. Soap glanced at Price, like he wasn't sure where this was going anymore.

Price continued anyway. "Soap is offering you something different. That doesn't replace anything here."

Y/n swallowed. "So I'm not… choosing between you."

"No." Price said immediately. "You're not."

That seemed to loosen something in Y/n's posture, just a fraction. Soap exhaled quietly, tension easing from his shoulders.

Price looked down at the edge of his desk for a moment, then back at them. "If you go, you learn something. You'll come back."

Y/n nodded once. Then, very quietly, they asked. "And you'll still be here?"

"Yes." Price said simple and certain.

Y/n held his gaze for another second, then nodded again, slower this time.

Soap straightened a little, clearing his throat. "Right then." He said, trying to bring the air back up. "So that's settled. I'll uh- make arrangements properly. No illegal kidnapping arc, unfortunately."

Price didn't look away from Y/n. "See that it stays that way."

Soap gave a mock salute. "Aye, Captain." _________________________________________ Part 26

For Y/n's birthdate

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | ________________________________________________ Ghost's footsteps faded. The quiet that followed felt heavier than before.

Y/n stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he'd been, like maybe something else would be left behind. An answer, something.

There wasn't.

Their ears lowered again. "If Ghost didn't know… if Price said he wasn't… then what was it supposed to be?"

Their tail dragged a little deeper into the gravel. After a second, they huffed under their breath, small and frustrated, and turned back toward the base. "Maybe someone else would know." _ Price sat alone at his desk with a pen in one hand and the growing certainty in the other that paperwork had been invented by the devil.

The lamp on his desk cast a low amber circle over a stack of forms Laswell had somehow produced within hours of their conversation. She had called them "preliminary options."

Price had called them something else under his breath. At the top of the first page, in bold block letters, was:

DEPENDENT EDUCATIONAL ACCESS REQUEST | SUPPLEMENTAL LITERACY SUPPORT INTAKE FORM.

He exhaled through his nose, picked up the pen, and started.

SECTION 1: CHILD / DEPENDENT IDENTIFICATION

Full Legal Name: ________________________

Price stopped immediately. He stared at the line. Then leaned back in his chair and muttered. "Right. Off to a fantastic start."

Y/n didn't exactly have a full legal anything.

No surname on file. No birth certificate. No school record. No standard intake. No proper documentation that would make any bureaucrat sleep peacefully at night.

He tapped the pen against the desk once, then wrote carefully: Y/n [Unknown / Unregistered]

Date of Birth: ______________________

Price squinted harder because it was a problem, but regardless he wrote: Unknown | (Help Price fill out the birthdate? This link will be at the end too, so you can continue reading.)

Age: ______________________

He sat there for a while. Fifteen? Sixteen? Younger in some ways. Older in others. Too old to not know their letters. Too young to ask what a father was and mean it that honestly. His jaw shifted.

He wrote: Approx. 15 - 17 years old. Then crossed out the seventeen. Then crossed out the fifteen. He hated that he had to guess. He hated more that no one before him had apparently bothered enough to know.

SECTION 2: RESPONSIBLE ADULT / GUARDIAN OF RECORD

Parent / Legal Guardian Name: ______________________

Price's pen stopped. His expression flattened instantly. He stared at the line for so long the room he began to hated the sound of the sound of the ac.

Then, with visible irritation, he scratched a line through Parent hard enough to nearly tear the paper and wrote beside it:

Captain John Price

He sat back. Looked at it. Then looked at the next question.

Relationship to Minor / Dependent: ▢ Father ▢ Mother ▢ Legal Guardian ▢ Foster Placement ▢ Temporary Custodian ▢ Other: __________

Price stared at the boxes. His mouth thinned. He read them again as if the answer might magically become less offensive the second time around.

Father. "No."

Legal Guardian. "Not officially."

Foster Placement. "Christ..."

Temporary Custodian. "That sounded like holding someone's luggage."

Other. "That was somehow worse."

Price rubbed a hand over his beard and muttered. "This is absurd." With the air of a man signing his own death warrant, he checked: ■ Other

SECTION 3: EDUCATIONAL HISTORY

Last known school attended: ______________________

Blank.

Reading level: ▢ Age appropriate ▢ Below expected level ▢ Non-reader / emergent literacy ▢ Unknown

That one got checked immediately: ■ Non-reader / emergent literacy

He didn't hesitate. That answer came too easily. His eyes flicked to the next line.

Writing ability: ▢ Independent ▢ Limited ▢ Unable to write name ▢ Unknown

He checked: ■ Unable to write name

His gaze stayed on the page. He could still picture the first time he'd put a pen in Y/n's hand properly. How they'd held it wrong. Too tight like a tool instead of a writing instrument.

How they'd looked at the paper with visible distrust. How they'd copied the shape of a letter like it was some strange ritual they weren't convinced had any purpose. How, when he'd asked them to write their name, they'd gone still. Not embarrassed. Not even ashamed. Just confused in a way that made his stomach twist. Like they genuinely hadn't known that was a thing people were supposed to be able to do.

Price exhaled slowly and moved on.

Known strengths / observations: ____________________________________________ ____________________________________________ ____________________________________________

He stared at that one for a while too.

He wrote: Learns quickly through demonstration. Strong situational awareness and excellent environmental memory. Able to recognize patterns, routines, routes, and changes in surroundings with high accuracy. Highly observant, physically capable, and responsive to practical instruction when trust is established. Strong adaptive behavior, and protective instincts. Educational delays do not reflect lack of intelligence.

SECTION 4: SPECIAL CONSIDERATIONS

Does the dependent have behavioral concerns? ▢ No ▢ Yes If yes, explain: ______________________

Price actually laughed once under his breath. A dry, humorless sound. "Behavioral concerns..." He repeated to the empty room. He checked Yes.

He wrote: Behavior under stress is strongly shaped by fear response and lack of prior stability. May withdraw, become oppositional, or react physically when startled, crowded, restrained, or overwhelmed. Functions best with consistent routine, familiar people, clear boundaries, and low pressure instruction. Responds well to patience, trust, and direct one on one guidance.

Preferred learning environment: ▢ Group classroom ▢ Small group ▢ One-on-one ▢ Other: __________

He checked One-on-one so fast the pen nearly punched through the page. No chance in hell was he putting Y/n in a classroom full of staring strangers and expecting that to go well. He could already imagine the disaster.

Someone laughs. Someone points. Y/n bolts or bites someone. No, absolutely not.

Under additional notes, he wrote: Private instruction strongly preferred. Quiet setting. Minimal audience. Avoid making subject feel observed or singled out.

SECTION 5: MEDICAL / DEVELOPMENTAL NOTES

Any known developmental delays? ▢ No ▢ Yes ▢ Unknown

Price stared at the question with immediate irritation because the problem wasn't that Y/n was slow by any means. It was that they'd clearly been left behind. There was a difference, and he hated that forms never seemed to understand nuance.

He checked: ■ Unknown

Then wrote in the margin: Possible educational and social deprivation. Requires assessment by someone competent enough to know the difference.

He looked at that sentence and didn't cross it out. Let the bastards read it.

SECTION 6: EMERGENCY CONTACT / AUTHORIZED RESPONSIBLE PARTY

Primary Emergency Contact: ______________________

Price filled it in. Captain John Price

Relationship: ______________________

He stopped again. Stared in the air, then wrote: Responsible Adult Price let out a quiet breath through his nose. "Bloody vague." He muttered... _ By the time Y/n wandered back toward the more populated part of the base, the sky had started to shift into evening. The day had cooled, but not enough to make the concrete and gravel stop holding onto heat. Their feet scuffed along the path with no real direction now, ears flicking every now and then at voices drifting from nearby buildings, open doors, passing personnel.

They weren't really looking for the cat anymore. They weren't really looking for anything. Their mind still felt caught on the same splinter.

Y/n’s tail dragged low behind them.

A laugh up ahead pulled their attention.

Soap.

He was standing near one of the side buildings with two other soldiers, leaning against the wall while talking with his hands with whatever story he was telling required a full performance. One of the others was already laughing before he'd even finished.

Soap looked entirely too comfortable, as usual.

Y/n slowed a little.

One of the soldiers noticed them first. He glanced past Soap, then gave a small jerk of his chin. “There's Captain Price's kid."

Soap turned around. The second he spotted Y/n, his face brightened automatically. "Well, there they are." He straightened up, pushing off the wall. "Thought you’d run off and joined a biker gang or somethin."

Y/n stopped a few feet away.

Soap grinned, pointing vaguely at them. "Actually, no, scratch that. You'd make a terrible biker. Too small. Could maybe get away with one of those little scooters though. Put you in a leather jacket. Tiny sunglasses. Real menace to society."

One of the soldiers snorted.

Y/n didn't laugh.

Soap's grin faltered just a fraction.

He tilted his head. "Aw, c'mon. That was at least a little funny."

Nothing.

Y/n just stood there, quiet, hands tucked into their sleeves, ears low enough now that even Soap could tell something was off.

His expression changed.

Not all at once. Just enough for the joke to drop clean out of his face. The two soldiers beside him noticed it too and went a little quieter. Soap looked at Y/n properly then. "Hey."

Y/n looked at him, but didn't say anything.

Soap straightened a bit more, voice gentler now. "You alright?"

Y/n gave a tiny shrug.

Soap stared at them for a second longer, then looked over at the two soldiers. "Right. Off you go."

"What?"

"Shoo." Soap flicked his fingers at them. "Private business. Classified."

The other soldier gave Y/n one last glance, then nudged his mate. "Come on."

A few seconds later, they were alone. Soap waited until the others were fully out of earshot before looking back down at Y/n. His voice was quieter now. "Alright." Soap crouched down a little so he wasn't towering over them. "What happened?"

For a second, it looked like Y/n might say nothing at all. Then, very quietly, they asked. "What am I to him?"

The question was so direct it caught him off guard. He frowned a little, not because he didn't hear them, but because he was suddenly very aware that this was not one of those conversations you could joke your way through and somehow make better. "What d'you mean?" he asked carefully.

Y/n's ears twitched once, then lowered again. "People keep saying…" They swallowed. "They keep saying he's my dad." Y/n looked down at the ground instead of at Soap. "But he said he's not."

Soap's face softened in a way it usually didn't unless something had gotten under his skin. For once, he didn't jump in to fill the silence.

Y/n: "I asked what a dad was. Nik said it was… someone who takes care of you teaches you things, keeps you safe. Gaz said it's supposed to be someone who stays."

Soap stayed quiet.

Y/n's ears lowered further. "So I thought maybe…" They hesitated. "Maybe that was what he was." Y/n pauses. "Then he said he wasn't. So I thought maybe I got it wrong."

Soap looked at them for a long second. Then, very carefully, he said. "I don't think you got it wrong." Soap leaned one forearm against his knee. "I think everyone around you got too excited and started puttin' names on things before you even had a chance to figure out what they meant."

Y/n finally looked up at him.

Soap gave a small shrug. "People like titles. Makes them feel like they understand what they're lookin' at."

Y/n's ears twitched. "So they were wrong."

"About the title?" Soap said. "Maybe." He tilted his head. "About him carin' about you? No."

Y/n's ears twitched. "Then what is he."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's… complicated."

Y/n frowned faintly. "Why?"

Soap gave a small, helpless huff through his nose. "Because grown ups are stupid."

That, at least, got the tiniest flicker of reaction out of them.

Soap: "No, I'm serious. You ask a simple question, and adults immediately start tripping over legal definitions, emotional repression, and whatever the hell else they've got rattling around in their skulls." Soap pauses thinking. "What do you think about him being a dad?"

Y/n's brow pinched faintly, like they were sorting through something with visible effort. "I didn't ask him to be one." Y/n looked at their hands, still half hidden in their sleeves. "I just…" They hesitated. "I just liked him."

Soap let out a slow breath through his nose. "Then maybe that's your answer." He gave a small shrug, one shoulder lifting. "Maybe you don't need to know exactly what word it is yet." Soap smiled, but gentler this time. "You didn’t start carin' about him because you thought he was your dad." He tipped his head slightly. "You started carin' because he kept showin' up."

Their voice was quieter when they asked. "So he's not leaving me?"

Soap watched them for a second, then leaned back against the wall behind him and folded his arms loosely. "No, he's not. I don't think he was rejectin' you." He pauses. "I think." Soap said carefully. "Price heard the word dad and immediately started panicking about all the ways he doesn't fit it properly." Soap gave them a crooked little smile. "He's not exactly built for emotional clarity when a title with so much responsibility."

Y/n tilted their head slightly.

Soap: "Means he's rubbish at his own feelings."

Y/n: "…Oh."

"Aye." Soap nodded gravely. "Terminal case..."

That got the faintest little huff out of them. Barely a sound, but enough that Soap counted it as a victory.

He smiled, then after a second, it faded into something softer. "Still."

Y/n looked at him.

Soap shifted his weight, gaze drifting somewhere past them for a moment before he looked back. "You should know what it's like."

Their ears twitched. "What."

"To have a family." _______________________________________ Part 25 (Help Price fill out the birthdate?)

@bbmgirll @ducks118 @echo9821 @haruskrd @kerst666 @hypertail @1devilbat @goodsoup19 @hayleebugs @imsolotrash @danielle143 @stoner-slut @sheepispink @kitty7kitten @lilynotdilly @snuffstreams @heyitsniki18 @skullcrawler @misscaller06 @hellishbimbo @atlasbatman05 @bubblyskootch @trapdoorfalcon @z-wantstowrite @masterocelot58 @8venusflytrap8 @my-anime-garden @seistrawberrie @magicwriterinspo @lucienofthelakes @sparrowwithaquill @ilovetaquitosmmmm @weathered-and-worn @rinkashirikitateku @spiderfly-tree-rat @butlereyepatchbunny @nothoughtsonlyfanfics @theclassicvinyldragon @theonewhoshallbeunnamed @the-alt-account-for-fics @sleepyghost000 @gabi-the-first @wowtheuniverse @lordbugs @iamaunknownsecret @lyunsafebubble @pipsysstuff @jupiterslastdance @maybe-not-this @smarvolo @burrowedinnature77 @shadowpandas

Favorite NPC of all time?

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | ________________________________________________ Y/n did not go looking for the cat. Not officially. If anyone asked, they were looking for the cat.

This was a believable excuse because they had, in fact, been looking for the cat on and off since yesterday, and because no one on base had yet been foolish enough to assume Y/n ever wandered aimlessly without a reason. They moved with purpose even when the purpose was questionable.

So yes. They were looking for the cat. It just so happened that the route of this search took them past the vehicle bays, around the side of the maintenance shed, and toward the sound of familiar voices.

Gaz was there, leaning against the open back of a truck with a mug in one hand while Nikolai stood beside him smoking and talking with the easy confidence of a man who acted like every base in the world belonged to him as long as he was standing on it.

"...telling you." Gaz was saying, "That's not how paperwork works."

Nikolai scoffed. "Paperwork works however long enough before angry woman in office notices."

Gaz laughed into his drink. "That is absolutely not how systems function."

"Mm. Is why you are still young." Nikolai took another drag from his cigarette, then exhaled slowly. "You think system is machine. Is not machine. Is pile of frightened man with stamps."

Gaz opened his mouth to answer, then noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Y/n had appeared around the side of the truck so quietly that for a second Gaz genuinely wasn't sure how long they had been standing there.

They stood with their arms at their sides, ears angled forward, expression unreadable.

Nikolai spotted them a second later and broke into immediate delight. "Ah! Little cub."

Y/n's ears flicked.

Nik: "There you are. Thought you were stalking wildlife again."

Y/n answered without hesitation. "Looking for the cat."

Nikolai crouched slightly, elbows on his knees, eyeing them with open amusement. "And how goes great hunt."

Y/n was quiet for a second. "The 'cat' remains.... elusive."

Nikolai nodded gravely. "A worthy enemy."

Gaz snorted.

Y/n stepped closer, toward both of them, but with the faintly deliberate air of someone approaching a subject rather than people. Their tail swayed once behind them, then stilled.

Gaz noticed the shift first. "You alright?"

Y/n looked at him. Then at Nik. Then back at Gaz. "...What is a dad?"

There was a beat of silence.

Gaz paused. Nikolai's eyebrows rose slowly. Neither of them, lacking any context whatsoever, found this alarming. Instead Gaz immediately assumed exactly what half the base had already assumed. His mouth twitched.

Nikolai's face lit up with the expression of a man who had just been handed premium entertainment free of charge.

Gaz set his mug down on the truck bed. "Oh, this is because of the rumor, isn't it."

Y/n stared at him. "I think it started it."

That only made Gaz more certain he was right.

Nikolai leaned one shoulder against the truck and folded his arms, clearly taking this extremely seriously in the way only he could. "Da. Important question." He looked at Y/n with great gravity. "Father is... how you say... man who helps make baby."

Gaz turned slowly. "Nik."

"What?" Nikolai smiled. "This is true."

Gaz rubbed his face. "That is not where you start."

Nikolai looked offended. "It's biological fact."

"Yeah, and they're not asking for a medical textbook." Gaz looked back at Y/n. "Right. Ignore him."

Nik: "I am not wrong."

Gaz: "You are being unhelpful."

Nikolai shrugged and took another drag from his cigarette.

Y/n's ears tilted slightly sideways. "So a dad is the man who made you."

Gaz hesitated. "Sometimes. Biologically, yeah. But that's not always what people mean."

Y/n's gaze sharpened slightly. "Then what do they mean."

Gaz shifted his weight against the truck and thought about it for a second, trying to explain something emotional to a creature who might take every word literally and store it forever.

"...Usually," he said slowly. "When people say 'dad,' they mean the person who's raising you."

Y/n squinted, processing.

Gaz continued, a little more carefully now. "The one who looks after you. Makes sure you're fed. Safe. Teaches you things. Tells you off when you're being a beastie menace. That sort of thing."

Nikolai nodded immediately. "Da. Big grumpy protector man. Very bossy. Usually tired."

Gaz pointed at him. "That part is actually helpful."

Nikolai looked smug.

Y/n processed in silence. Their tail gave one slow twitch.

Gaz went on, now half talking and half trying not to grin because this was getting dangerously close to confirming every rumor on base. "Doesn't have to be blood. Not always... Some dads are stepdads. Adoptive dads. Sometimes it's just..." He searched for the right word. "The person who ends up being yours."

Y/n's fingers rubbed together once. Their expression remained neutral, but there was more going on behind the eyes now. Calculation. Comparison. They looked down briefly at the concrete, then back up. "What if..." they said slowly. "The person is not your dad?"

Gaz, still missing the actual emotional landmine entirely, assumed this was hypothetical in the way people used hypotheticals when the answer was obvious and embarrassing. He leaned back against the truck. "Do you mean if they haven't said it out loud?"

Y/n said nothing.

Gaz kept going, oblivious. "Well... some people don't call themselves that even when they basically are. They're weird about labels." He took a sip from his mug. "Especially soldiers. Especially older men with authority issues."

Nikolai made a pleased sound of agreement. "Da. Very constipated emotionally."

Gaz laughed despite himself. "Exactly."

Y/n's ears flattened just a fraction. "What if they said they weren't."

That pulled Gaz up short. He looked at them properly now. The joking expression faded a little. Beside him, Nikolai also went quieter, though not by much.

Gaz lowered the mug from his mouth. "He said that?"

Y/n looked away almost immediately, as if realizing too late they had said too much. "It doesn't matter."

Gaz exchanged a glance with Nikolai. The Russian's eyes narrowed slightly.

Gaz straightened. "Y/n."

No response.

Nikolai spoke softly now, which somehow made him more serious than anything else could have. "Little cub."

Y/n's tail curled once around their own ankle. "I just wanted to know what it meant."

Gaz watched them for a moment. The pieces did not all fit yet, but enough of them did. Enough for the teasing to die in his throat. He set the mug fully aside. "Right." His voice was careful now. "Okay. Listen."

Y/n looked at him again, wary.

Gaz tilted his head slightly. "A dad is supposed to be the person who stays. Who takes care of you. Who makes you feel safe." He paused. "But people are rubbish at explaining themselves. Especially when they care about something and get strange about it."

Nikolai nodded once. "This is true."

Gaz kept his eyes on Y/n. "So if someone said they weren't your dad..." He chose his next words carefully. "That might mean they were answering one part of the question and not the whole thing."

Y/n frowned. "That makes no sense."

"Yeah..." Gaz said sympathetically. "Welcome to humans."

Nikolai gestured with his cigarette. "Humans talk terribly. Very inefficient species."

Y/n's ears twitched. "So they can be a dad but not say dad."

Gaz winced. "That is... not exactly what I said."

"But close enough," Nikolai added.

Gaz gave him a look. "You're not helping again."

Nik: "I am helping spiritually."

Gaz: "There is no such thing as helping spiritually."

Nik: "There is in Russia."

Y/n looked between them, increasingly dissatisfied. "This is confusing."

Gaz huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. It is."

Nikolai crouched down again so he was closer to eye level with them. His voice, for once, lost most of its teasing. "Sometimes title is not important thing."

Y/n watched him.

Nikolai tapped two fingers lightly against his own chest. "Important thing is..." He searched briefly for the word, then settled on. "Who comes when you need."

Y/n's fingers curled slightly at their sides. "And if they say no."

Nikolai studied them for a long second.

Then he answered just as simply. "Then maybe they are fool."

Gaz looked at him sharply, then back at Y/n. "Nik-"

"No." Nikolai stood again. "If small one asks what father is, and someone answers badly, that is foolishness."

Gaz rubbed the back of his neck. "Bit harsh."

Nikolai snorted. "I am Russian. Harsh is love language."

Despite themself, Y/n's ears flicked in what might have been amusement. It vanished quickly.

Gaz noticed. He crouched a little, resting his forearms on his knees so he wasn't towering over them. "Look at me."

Y/n hesitated, then did.

Gaz's expression had gone steady now. Kind, but serious. "Whoever you're asking about... if they're the one feeding you, teaching you, protecting you, worrying over you..." He paused. "Then whether they use the word or not, they still matter."

Y/n was very quiet.

Gaz added, softer. "And if this is about what I think it's about, I don't think he meant 'go away.'"

That landed immediately. Y/n's ears shifted, then lowered. They stared at the ground for a moment. "Oh."

Nikolai folded his arms again. "John said something stupid, da?"

Gaz exhaled sharply through his nose. "Nik."

Nik: "What? Is believable."

Y/n did not answer. That was answer enough.

Gaz stood up again, slower this time. He picked his mug back up but didn't drink from it. "Right." He glanced at Nikolai. "I'm going to have words with him."

Nikolai nodded. "Good. I will also have words. Mine louder."

Y/n's head came up fast. "No."

Both men looked at them.

Y/n's ears angled back. "Don't."

Gaz's brow furrowed. "Y/n-"

"No." More firmly now. "Don't tell him I asked."

Y/n studied his face like they were checking whether he meant it. Apparently satisfied, they nodded once. Then, with perfect seriousness, they said, "I still have to find the cat."

Y/n turned on their heel and started walking away with the same quiet purpose they'd arrived with, tail swaying once behind them.

Gaz watched them go.

After a few seconds he muttered, "This has gone horribly wrong."

Nikolai lit another cigarette with the calm of a man thoroughly enjoying disaster from a safe distance. "Da."

Gaz glanced sideways at him. "You are way too pleased about this."

Nikolai exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "I am not pleased." He smiled. "I am fascinated."

Gaz looked back toward the direction Y/n had gone, expression turning thoughtful. "He really put his foot in it this time, didn't he."

Nikolai's grin widened. "John Price?" He tucked the lighter back into his pocket. "Always." _ Y/n had been walking for long enough that even they had stopped pretending they were looking for the cat.

At first, that had been the excuse.

Looking for the cat.

A perfectly reasonable thing to be doing. The base cat wandered wherever it pleased, accepted tribute in the form of meat scraps, and had somehow outranked half the lower enlisted just by existing.

They wandered the outer paths near the base fencing with their hands tucked into their sleeves, tail dragging low behind them, ears twitching every now and then at distant voices or the hum of a passing vehicle. Gravel crunched softly under their boots. Their mind kept circling the same thing over and over, chewing on it until it felt sore.

"A dad. What made one. What counted. What didn't. If someone fed you, watched you, corrected you, made sure you slept somewhere warm... Did that count? If they said it didn't... Did that mean it really didn't?" Y/n's ears drooped a little.

???: "Out here alone?"

Y/n made a violent, full-body startled noise and nearly jumped out of their skin. They spun so fast they almost slipped on the gravel, tail puffing, ears shooting straight up in alarm.

Ghost stood there. Silent. Massive. Apparently summoned from whatever cursed dimension he crawled out of whenever he felt like frightening people for sport. He looked down at them, unreadable behind the mask.

Y/n stared at him with wide-eyed betrayal, one hand pressed to their chest.

Ghost tilted his head slightly. "Bit jumpy."

"What- what are you doing here?" they stammered, suddenly aware of how ridiculous they must look crouched over a patch of gravel, acting like the apocalypse had arrived.

Ghost’s head tilted again, slower this time, and his tone was dry, almost conversational. "Patrolling. You?"

Y/n's eyes widened as if remembering they were supposed to be looking for a cat. "…Looking for the cat." They said, voice a little too loud, too quickly. Then, after a pause, they looked up. "…Ghost, do you… do you know what a dad is?"

The question hung in the air, awkward and almost fragile. Ghost tilted his head behind the mask, silent for a long moment.

"I… don't know." He said finally, flat and quiet. His voice wasn't cruel, just empty in a way that made Y/n's stomach tighten. "Never had one I… knew."

Y/n's ears drooping evermore slightly. There was a weight in those few words that neither explanation nor consolation could touch.

Ghost took a step back, keeping his gaze on them just long enough to mark his presence. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away. His footsteps crunched on the gravel, leaving Y/n standing there in the silence, ears low, tail still dragging, and the question bouncing endlessly in their mind.

The 'cat' remained unseen. _________________________________________ Part 24

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The club had stopped being fun twenty minutes ago.

y/n had reached their limit somewhere between Soap trying to dance on an elevated platform, Gaz losing a bet and getting dragged into karaoke, and Price pretending he was not standing in the corner like a divorced father at a wedding reception.

The music was too loud. The lights were flashing in a way that made his head hurt. Someone had already spilled a drink near his shoes. And worst of all... Ghost had disappeared. Not actually disappeared. Just drifted off somewhere in the club.

Which was, somehow, more irritating.

Y/n stood near the bar with a drink in one hand and an increasingly unimpressed expression on their face, scanning the crowd until Y/n spotted him.

Black shirt. Broad shoulders. Skull balaclava shoved up just enough to drink. Massive frame leaning against the wall like he owned the place and hated every second of it.

Ghost looked perfectly content to stay there for another hour.

Y/n, however, was not. They marched across the room. Stopped directly in front of Ghost.

Ghost looked down at them lazily.

Y/n looked up at him with that calm, pretty expression that always meant they was one inconvenience away from violence. "I'm leaving." Y/n said.

Ghost: "Didn't ask."

Y/n stared at him for one flat second. Then reached out, grabbed Ghost by the front of his belt and waistband and yanked.

Ghost, who could probably deadlift a small vehicle, actually stumbled forward half a step.

"Move." Y/n said, already dragging him.

Ghost stared down at the hand fisted in his belt.

Then at Y/n. Then at the crowd they were now forcing through and instead of resisting like any normal man with dignity might...

He went. Just went. Like a giant, armed, heavily traumatized dog being led out of a public park by a shorty who'd decided walk time was over.

People actually moved out of their way. Partly because Ghost was terrifying. Partly because Y/n looked like they might bite.

Soap was bent over laughing by the time they made it halfway to the exit. "Oh my God." he wheezed.

"Like a bloody pet." Gaz choked on his spit.

Ghost let himself be dragged through the crowd with the same blank expression he wore into gunfights, but there was something deeply wrong with the fact that he was not fighting this at all.

Y/n tugged him again when he lagged. "Keep up."

The cold night air hit them the second the door swung shut behind them, muting the bass and chaos from inside.

Y/n finally let go once they were out on the sidewalk.

Ghost looked down at him.

Y/n crossed their arms. "I told you I didn't want to stay long."

Ghost, infuriatingly calm, said. "You could've asked."

Y/n stared at him in disbelief. "I did ask."

Ghost: "No, you glared at me for ten minutes."

Y/n: "That was the warning."

Ghost considered this. Then gave one slow nod, like that was somehow reasonable. "Fair enough."

Y/n exhaled sharply through their nose and looked away, already annoyed all over again.

Ghost stood there beside them, hands in his pockets, like being physically hauled out of a club by his trousers was a perfectly ordinary part of his evening. "You always this bold after ten p.m.?"

Y/n: "I'm always this bold when I'm irritated."