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Ghost stopped walking.
It wasn't intentional—his boots just stilled as some old part of his brain snapped to attention like a tether pulled tight, because right now?
Right now, he was convinced that Kyle "Gaz" Garrick was sunlight made flesh—and for a brief moment, that truth hit so hard he forgot how to breathe.
— ☀️ —
Ghost has watched Gaz for a long, long time. Turns out he wasn't anywhere near as subtle as he'd thought, and Gaz finally takes matters into his own hands.
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It's not a bad name, and that only makes it more confusing, somehow—you've been called so much worse. Every foul thing under the sun, really: bitch, cunt, whore, worthless, slur after slur spat at your feet from people who only claimed to be toughening you up and ready you for the real world—
So why is this the one that hurts? Why is this the word that feels kind even as it slices you clean open?
— <3 —
Four times Task Force 141 calls you sweetheart… and the first time you really hear it.
— <3 —
#ficwip’s ‘hey, sweetheart’ 2026
Series
- Part 3 of little bird
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"We get dirty, and the world stays clean."
That was always the mission of Task Force 141. Two alphas, two betas, and the unshakable bond of a pack forged in bullets and blood. No omega needed, not when they had each other. But when a raid pulls you from the wreckage of a human trafficking ring, their entire world changes.
You’re a survivor first—an omega second. Thrust into a world of soldiers and secrets, you don’t trust the hands that pulled you from the dark. They say you’re safe, but instincts are louder than words, and your fractured bond to the world leaves you adrift.
In the shadows of their newfound mission, Task Force 141 struggles to piece together the horrors they've encountered. Lines blur. Tension builds.
And maybe, just maybe, you're what they never knew they'd been missing.
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"I know how I play!" Soap shouted, stepping into Ghost's space with his fists clenched and jaw tight. "And I know how to read a fuckin' game, Riley, even if you don't think I'm worth shit beyond blockin' a puck with my fuckin' face—"
"That what tonight was?" Ghost snarled, cutting him off as he loomed over Soap, eyes blazing. "You weren't blockin' shite. You were frozen, fuckin' useless in the third—you let Graves rattle you—"
"Don't you fucking say his name—"
"You let him get in your head, MacTavish! We all saw it—"
"He was in my fuckin' scent!" Soap spat back before he could stop himself, voice cracking like ice underfoot. "What the fuck did you want me to do?!"
— 🧼 — — 🏒 — — 💀 —
Being the starting goalie for the Hereford Hornets was a dream come fucking true for John "Soap" MacTavish... at least, until it came to the EIHL Challenge Cup Playoffs.
No one could know he was an omega. Not the opposing Belfast Blades, not the league... and certainly not the Hornets' alternate captain, Simon "Ghost" Riley—the scariest enforcer in the league.
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Snow whipped around them both in a frenzy. It was all Soap could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, dragging them both forward as frost nipped at his bones. Wind slammed them from all sides, roaring through the bare trees and covering Soap's footsteps as quickly as he made them. Claw-like branches grabbed at him and Ghost, but he didn't dare stop, no matter how hard they tried to force him back.
Stopping meant death.
And Soap wasn't about to let the man he loved freeze and be left forgotten in no-man's-land.
— ❄️ —
Trapped in a collapsing blind and battered by days of snow and silence, Soap is fraying at the seams—cold, half-mad, and absolutely convinced his lieutenant is some cocked-up apparition of a man. But when the mission turns, everything spirals, leaving Soap to drag an injured, hypothermic Ghost through blizzard and blood to the last safehouse still standing.
(Or: A storm. A sniper’s nest. A confession years in the making. And the quiet moment where Soap finally gets to hold the man he never stopped falling for.)
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call of booty 2.0 (booty strikes back) by pap3rtigers
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
31 Oct 2025
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The long-awaited sequel to "call of booty" has finally arrived! 14 days, 14 prompts, 14 days to watch your faves gettin' it on.
Pairings and warnings in each chapter's title and notes.
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Price Appreciation Week 2025 // Day 6 — Captured and Daddy Kink
He's no stranger to missions gone wrong, but nothing could unravel him harder than nearly losing one of his own. Which is exactly why he's not going to sleep until he feels you safe in his arms.
Series
- Part 6 of Price Appreciation Week 2025
- Part 13 of little bird
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Price Appreciation Week 2025 // Day 5 — Hurt/comfort and Soft Dom
Johnny comes back from an op bruised, shaken, and certain he's failed everyone under his command. Price holds him through the storm.
Series
- Part 5 of Price Appreciation Week 2025
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Price Appreciation Week 2025 // Day 4 — Touch-starved and Body Worship
No one ever taught Captain Price how to be held, only how to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. So Kyle does what no one else has: strips it all away.
Series
- Part 4 of Price Appreciation Week 2025
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Price Appreciation Week 2025 // Day 3 — Hybrid/Shifter and Cockwarming
Home. Safe. But not quite settled. Luckily, Price knows exactly what to do when Ghost can't relax.
Series
- Part 3 of Price Appreciation Week 2025
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Price Appreciation Week 2025 // Day 2 — Poly141 and bottom!Price
Price has been a right fucking prick the last few days. His boys decide to give their Captain some much needed stress relief.
Series
- Part 2 of Price Appreciation Week 2025
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Price Appreciation Week 2025 // Day 1 — A/B/O dynamics and Breeding Kink
Sparrow goes into heat. And really, what kind of alpha would Price be if he let his poor little bird go unfulfilled?
Series
- Part 12 of little bird
- Part 1 of Price Appreciation Week 2025
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— ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜—
a story told by interconnected vignettes, each tracing the six meanings of the original pride flag—life, healing, sunlight, nature, serenity, and spirit—and all the quiet, stubborn ways love makes a home.
— ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜—
written for the erotica abyss' pride word tasting '25
Series
- Part 11 of little bird
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(don't) bite the hand that feeds by pap3rtigers, vozart
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
21 Jun 2025
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If anyone bothered to ask Ghost who he was, he figured he'd just stare at them for a moment, and say three simple words.
"A stray dog."
He didn't mean to bite. Didn't mean to bare his teeth or snap at every outstretched hand.
It wasn't in his nature—not really.
He didn't want to be like this.
He just didn't know how to be anything else.
— # —
"Jesus fucking Christ, MacTavish," Ghost snapped, his voice cutting through Soap like a bullet through bone, making mincemeat of his heart as it dropped clear to his feet. "Shut the fuck up."
— # —
In the wake of Hassan's death and stolen moments in Las Almas, Soap can't seem to quiet his mind—and Ghost won't let himself rest. Haunted by guilt and convinced he's the problem, Ghost starts doing what he does best: pushing people away before they can see the mess he really is.
If he's alone, maybe Soap will be safe.
But Johnny MacTavish has never been good at backing down.
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For #PriceGazWeek2025 — a collection of seven short threadfics adapted from my Bluesky showcasing the progression of Kyle Garrick and John Price's relationship: strangers to friends to lovers.
— 🧢🚬 —
"D'you think this… job… makes it easier? Or harder? Connecting to someone, I mean."
"Both. Harder, 'cause of what we see. Easier, 'cause of who we trust to see it with us."
"You trust me with all that?"
"Wouldn't've picked you if I didn't, Kyle."
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It was supposed to be a fun little hike with her mates, celebrating the warm weather and spending time among the trees with no distractions.
But the woods had other plans for Leah, Tobias, and Noah… and when a wrong turn delivered them to a hidden grotto, they quickly found out that not everything is as innocent as it seems…
Series
- Part 8 of echo!Verse one-shots
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The scent of low tide and storm permeates the space, but something else follows. Something warm and green and familiar, though you can't name it. Like the memory of a place you've never been, or a song you don't quite remember the words to.
— 🧜 —
You were born on land with salt in your blood and longing in your bones. You always loved the ocean...
so it only makes sense that one day, it would finally call you home.
— 🧜 —
Poly141/Reader x Mermay x Soulmay
Series
- Part 10 of little bird
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John Price would bleed for his boys. Protect them with every last breath in his lungs. Hell, he'd die for them, if it meant they'd get their happy ending.
But loving them out loud? Asking for anything in return? That's never been in the cards. That's why, when they finally fall into each other—warm and bright and so happy—he doesn't say a word. Watches from the corner instead, with pride in his heart and flowers blooming in his lungs.
Hanahaki is a myth. A fairy tale.
Until it isn't.
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It didn't amount to much, but Soap poured his entire heart and soul into the cairn he built. Each stone felt rough against his fingers, cool and ancient, as he stacked them with careful intention. A humble thing, sure—unlikely to attract anything significant—but it was a temple crafted by his own hands, imbued with the sweat and labor of his devotion. Perhaps I'll meet a kind spirit, he mused as he stacked the last few stones and stepped back. Surveying his work, and for a few moments he thought luck might smile upon him. It looked good for its miniscule size, and that was what mattered most, right?
— & —
The God of Arepo meets Call of Duty
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This was absolutely not how Soap imagined this op going. Get in, clear the building, maybe crack a joke or two with Ghost over comms. Easy. Standard. Piece of bloody cake. Instead, he found himself crammed into a tiny broom closet, chest-to-chest with his lieutenant, both of them gasping for air like they'd been shoved into a vice.
Actually, scratch that. Crammed into a tiny broom closet, chest-to-chest with the lieutenant he'd been harboring a massive, pathetic crush on for years.
— & —
Or: the one where Soap fucks around (literally) and finds out (literally), except it spirals out of control. As per usual.
He is so fucked (again, literally.)