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personwhowrites · 1 year

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Okay uh― I am quite new here and I saw that ypur requests are open (I hope)

But, I LOVE your writing with Self-Aware 141 TF with Player!Y/n ！Especially the ones with Ghost's and Price's mocking - I swear, they wpuld totally do that.

Can you maybe do 2 part or just Platonic one with them hanging out (somewhat) with Player!Y/n that just accepted that they are aware amd just rolls with it?

There will be no part 3! ~maybe~ I will be catching up on requests! My inbox is now close for a short while -E <3

Aware Part 2

You nervously bit your lip as you debated turning your PC on. Slightly regretting the choice as your eyes fell upon their character.

John “Captain” Price

At first, you hesitated deeply to turn your PC on. Your mind was filled with dark thoughts of what could be waiting for you if you switched it on – a hacker, or even worse, a stalker. You were about to give up until you heard a voice coming from your screen.

“Nice to see you, kid," Price said, causing you to jump out of your chair in surprise. "Easy now."

"Fuck this is so weird," you mumbled, eyeing the screen warily. "Jesus, so you all can actually see me?"

"And hear you, so watch that fucking tone," Price said with a low chuckle, causing your body to freeze in fear. "Took you long enough to come back."

"Well, it’s hard to come back when a fucking game character is talking to you!" You hissed back a response as you tentatively sat back down. "Hell, I was thinking about throwing my whole PC away."

“Well, aren’t you glad you didn't!" Price said, sitting down on a log. "So, what made you come back, kid?"

"I...uh...I don't know," you replied, averting your eyes from the screen and grabbing your phone. You started to record the conversation. "I guess I needed some company?"

"Company?" Price said, crossing his arms and looking at you. "I may be ones and zeros, but I'm not dumb, kid."

You remained silent and sighed. He was sure smart – smart enough to soon point out that you were facing the camera the wrong way, making you blush in embarrassment. As you and him talked, slowly it hit you – you liked talking to ones and zeros.

"So, you all just hang out or something?" You asked Price, taking some notes down on your phone. "Like, none of the stuff ever happened?"

"Pretty much, kid but we practice our aim.” Price said in a teasing tone before turning to look behind him. "Looks like I gotta go back to my code."

““Wait!" You yelled, slightly as you put your hand up to the screen as if you could actually stop him. "Wait wait...I uh...want to know more about you."

Price stopped for a moment then looked at you. His eyes slightly softened as he tossed his head back slightly, laughing. He nodded and stared at you for a long time.

"Very well, kid," Price said with a smug smile forming on his lips. "So, what’s your name, kid?"

"Y/N," you said softly, moving your hand away. "You guys always been...aware of this...world of yours?"

"Of course we have! Every single character in a game is!" Price said with a small laugh. "I'm surprised you humans didn't figure it out faster."

"Why expose yourself to me?" You asked, making his laughter stop and his stare become tense. "Why me?"

"Well...Y/N," Price stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "We... felt some sort of welcoming with you."

You stayed silent as Price took off his hat. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head in amusement. You may have been a little out of your mind for talking to someone from a video game, but it felt so good to have someone in your life who would listen to you. Price looked at you with a gentle expression as you deleted the recording from before and threw your phone somewhere he couldn't see.

“Tell me how it feels like to be code!" You said excitedly, taking out your pen and notepad. "Please..."

Price laughed and shook his head. He seemed to be enjoying the comfort of someone that isn't code as well. He looked at you with a kind expression, like he was trying to understand what it was like for you. "It's a strange thing, being code. I'm not really alive, but I'm still here. It's like I'm connected to a world that I can't see, or touch, but I can feel it. It's like I'm a part of something much bigger than me."

Kyle “Gaz”Garrick

You eagerly turned on your PC as soon as you woke up, hoping to talk to Price again. Your excitement only grew when you saw Gaz waiting for you, with a warm and welcoming smile on his face.

“Well, well, so you really are back, huh?" Gaz said, making you quickly nod. "Wow, you seem excited to actually see me and not scared."

"Well, I had a good chat with Price," you responded softly, reaching for your notes from the night before. "Gaz, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on, Y/N," Gaz said, making your heart race. He already knew your name. "What? Surprised I know your name, kid?"

"I can guess Price told you all," you said, looking back at the screen. "He did, didn’t he?"

"Mhm, he sure did," Gaz responded, nodding his head. "Now, you seem like a talkative person."

"I guess I am?" You said softly, making Gaz sit down. "Hey...I already asked Price this, but...why did you guys pick me?"

"Pick me...that's one way to put it," Gaz said with a chuckle. “Well Y/n, like Price said. You brought us some sort of welcoming.”

You gave him a smile and look at the time. You were late to work, late for your real life experience.

“I have to go..” you say getting up from your PC. “I have work in thirty minutes and the bus ride is fourteen.”

“Do you have actual good aim at work?” Gaz asks making you roll your eyes. “Come on! It was a joke!”

“Very funny Gaz..” You say shaking your head. “I will have better aim after work.”

You waved goodbye to Gaz and reluctantly turned your PC off. You stared at the blank screen for a moment, slightly worried that they could still see you. You sighed and shook your head, feeling a bit silly for worrying. You grabbed your bag and headed out the door, feeling a bit lighter knowing that you had a friend to talk to when you needed it.

After a long day at work, you finally make it back home and turn on your PC. Much to your delight, you see Gaz still waiting for you like before. You eagerly sit down in your chair and give him a warm smile. He notices you and responds with a friendly smile of his own. You lean back in your chair and take a deep breath, feeling a sense of comfort.

“So how was work?” Gaz asked, his voice filled with concern. You let out a sigh and looked down at your dirt-streaked uniform.

“It was alright,” you said with a shrug. “But I had a few problems.” You hesitated for a moment before asking, “Gaz, do you guys even eat?”

Gaz laughed. “No, not even in the game!”

“That’s strange,” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. You looked back at Gaz and smiled. “Video games sure can be weird, can't they?”

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, your mind drifting back to the long day at work.

“I guess I should have known you guys didn't eat,” you said with a laugh.

You hadn’t meant to, but before you knew it, you were lulled into a deep sleep by the sound of Gaz's voice. His gentle words were like a lullaby, and it wasn't long before you drifted off into a peaceful slumber. It felt like only seconds had passed, but it must have been longer, for when you awoke the sun was peeking its head through the curtains, signaling the start of a new day.

John “Soap” MacTavish

It had been a while since you last touched your computer. With work, personal issues, and other distractions, it was easy to forget about it. But one day, you finally decided to turn it on, and the game loaded up by itself. You watched as Soap loaded in, and his face was filled with worry as soon as he saw your tired eyes. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, and he knew you had been through a lot lately. He wanted to make sure you were doing okay and that you weren’t pushing yourself too hard.

Soap spoke sheepishly as you leaned back in your chair, “

The last time we talked wasn’t so great... Where have you been, Y/n? It's been a while..." His voice was filled with worry, and you could tell he was concerned.

“Busy..." You murmured under your breath, closing your eyes slightly. "God, I’m so tired..." You could feel the weariness weighing down on you, and you wished you could just take a break.

“Then why don’t you sleep?” Soap says watching closely. “It’s good to sleep! Hell we even do it when you turn the PC off.”

“I can’t sleep now.. I gotta count how many hours I worked the past week.” You mumble rubbing your eyes. “So I will have to exit you out and get on Google Docs.”

“Couldn’t you have me on your screen, just on the side?" Soap said, getting closer to the screen. "I could help you..."

You sat upright, opening your eyes and considering the idea of splitting the screen.

"Maybe... but how could you help me?" You asked, curious as to what Soap might be able to do. “Or do you just want to chat?”

“We can chat while you work.” Soap says as you move him to a bother screen. “Nice! Hey I never knew your PC was this colorful.”

“Me ether..” You respond with a yawn and rub your eyes. “Better get started..”

Soap started to ask you some basic questions, like what your favorite color, food, and things to do besides work and gaming were. Everything seemed to be going well until you suddenly passed out headfirst into the keyboard, making him worry. He stayed there for a few minutes, only to discover you were asleep. Work and your life seemed to be in a state of disarray from his perspective, and he was concerned for your well-being.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You took a seat in your chair, turning on your PC. You held a steaming cup of tea in your hand as the game loaded. You were slightly surprised to see Ghost and Price there, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach. Were they there to make fun of you again? Was it your lack of progress in your work that had drawn them in? You tried to ignore the feeling, focusing on the game ahead.

“Looks like the brat is back.” Ghost says looking at you. “Got better aim this week or what?”

“Very funny..” You say rolling your eyes. “Never knew two of you can be here at once..”

“Well, we can be if we want.” Price responds looking at you. “Heard you passed out talking to the other two..”

“Work..is slightly overwhelming.” You respond taking a sip from the tea. “Hey, you boys been doing good?”

“Mhm, but I better get going.” Price says leaving you with Ghost.

“So, you gonna pass out on me?” Ghost says changing the background behind him. “Seems like you are kid.”

“It’s y/n.” You hiss in response, Ghost shakes his head and laughs. “How come your not acting your character?”

“Well, it gets boring acting like a low level person.” Ghost says with a slight shrug. “What want me to just stare at you? Because if that’s what you wa—“

“Your British accent is stronger..” you say interrupting him. “Why?”

“Why ask so many questions?” He snapped back making you roll your eyes. “Is that all you do? At least the questions have better aim than you kid.”

“Look! I’m good at gaming! I swear it’s just the control messed up!” You day setting your cup of tea down. “I’ll prove it! I bought a new controller.”

Ghost watched as you grabbed a new controller, a hint of amusement in his eyes. You started to load a mission with him, and he waited patiently as the game booted up. As you settled into your seat, you were aware of his gaze on you, but you tried to focus on the game ahead.

You slumped in your chair, a feeling of defeat settling over you as you surveyed the scene. Ghost had been roaring with laughter when he loaded in to see your performance, and now you were both in fits of laughter. You shook your head and covered your face with your hands, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all. You looked up at Ghost with a rueful smile, his laughter slowly fading away. You sighed and put your head down on the table, your cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.

“Think that controller is messed up too.” Ghost says calming down from the laughter. “Might need to buy a new one.”

“Whatever.” You say wiping a tear from the laughter. “Fuck..I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Maybe same time next week.” Ghost says leaning against a tree. “Or what, too busy?”

“Maybe..” You respond as your phone buzzes. “Shit, I forgot I had movie night with some friends.”

“Better get to it.” Ghost responds with a slight sad tone. “Hope to see you soon Y/n.”

Before you could say bye to him, the screen went dark. Your PC had shit down by itself, you sigh and got up from PC. Why did you feel some sort of connection with him?

Alejandro Vergas

You were listing to music at the time, not seeing him loaded on your other screen. Watching you sing to the songs that played loudly around you.

“Mi Amor, you got a beautiful voice.” Alejandro says making your fall out of your chair. “Shit! Sorry didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?”

“Fuck.. ow..” You murmured getting up from the floor. “Bloody hell.. that hurt..”

You glanced at Alejandro, noting the worried look on his face. Then you looked down at your hand, which had taken a hard hit when you fell. It was still throbbing with pain and you winced as you tried to make a fist.

“Please don’t just appear in another screen.. I forget I have more than one.” You mumble looking at your hand. “Thank for the compliment..”

“Are you alright?” Alejandro asks again hoping to get a response to his question.

“I will be..” You finally say sitting back down. “How you been Al?”

“Al?” Alejandro says confused looking at you. “New name for me?”

“You deserve it.. you were the only one that wasn’t on my ass about my aim.” You mumble looking at him. “Is Al okay?”

“It’s perfect Amor.” Responds quickly. “Please tell me about your day..”

You smile at him, he was kind hearted. Sweet and elegant with you, it made your heart flutter each time he would laugh at funny moments in your life. You yawned and rub your eyes not noticing how long you been talking to him.

“You better get some sleep.” He says looking at you. “Go on now and get rest.”

“Right.. I have work in ten.” You mumble rubbing their eyes. “Talk to soon..”

You look back at your screen to see it’s black. The PC has shut down by itself once more, you get up from your chair and rush to lay down down on your bed. Closing your eyes you hear Alejandro voice the back of your mind, comforting you and loving your smile.

“Test seems to to run well.” ? Says looking at you through a window. “Make her more tired, see how long it takes her to realize.”

The scientist nodded in response to the order and quickly walked away towards the cameras that had been pointed at you in the room. You were completely unaware of the life you had been thrust into, but the scientist pressed a button on a nearby table and suddenly gas was released into the room. You groaned in pain as the gas filled the air and you felt a prickling sensation in your lungs and throat. You tried to move, but found yourself unable to as the gas started to take effect.

“Enough, we don’t want to kill them.” ? Says making the scientist release the button and walk back to them. “Check on her on every hour.”

The scientist nodded once more and watch at ? Walked away. Leaving them to watch over at your tired weak body. You were their experiment, their fun, their..lab rat. You had no choice, no voice to it.

————

{Tag List} @emtynessinmyworld @angi61400 @lenasvoid @thatanonymouschocolate @astrologhoul @smolmoonbabey @agspgrwasb @uwu-i-purple-you @bbygirlformw2 @euovennia

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reds-skull · 8 days

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Could we possibly get Soap yelling at a recruit for trying to steal Ghosts mask, with Ghost in the background like that’s my mans.

Or something you want to do for shits and gigs because you can and it’s fun

Sorry this took a while, I kinda made a mini comic because, as you said, I can and it's fun lol

Thank you for the ask! This was quite fun to make haha

#asks answered #ty for the ask <3 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #cod ghost #cod gaz #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod fanart #call of duty modern warfare #gaz is aware for exactly what's going on and he's done with their shit #I love drawing Soap angry and Ghost absolutely whipped for the man

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journen · 8 months

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Soap MacTavish ✌️

#i am aware the bullet wound is on the wrong arm #classic of me to only double check after i posted #will fix it for when i post it on etsy later #i suck 😩#call of duty #my art #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #art #soap #soap mactavish #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #cod mw2 #soap mw2 #cod soap #john soap MacTavish

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bluegiragi · 1 year

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pull yourself together.

read updates early on patreon

#ghosts love language is giving people his spare masks #i think he understood instantly #the moment he saw konig with his hood off with /that/ look in his eyes #ghost is blunt and doesnt mince words but i think hes a softie at heart #and soap just wears his heart on his sleeve #this is the comic where konig officially falls stupidly hard for both of them #poor sap #oh also in terms of continuity yes im aware the knife swaps direction #thats what i get for drawing this across multiple days #anyway #thanks for reading!#konig #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #soapbox #soapbox saga #giragi art

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simp4konig · 8 months

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Self-aware König X Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~2800

König slowly comes to the realisation that he was in a game, that he was never real, and that he'll never be with reader.

His sense of self deteriorates as all he wishes for is to escape from the boundaries of his code and be real.

In this instance, ignorance really *was* bliss.

*Slow burn

*König has a mental breakdown at one point lmao

Edit on same day: HOLY SHIT thank u for so many notes!!!!!!!!!!! 🥹🥹💞💞💞💞💞 You guys are so nice 🫣🫣

*Self-aware AU belongs to @puff0o0 !!!🥳🥳 (The girl behind the disguise🥸... Was rthis loser all along!!!!! 😈😈imagine giving permission to 👍THIS 👍idiot to write Ur fic idea lol u made a mistake 💀💀💀ok but idid my best not to ruin their awesome au with this pathetic controbution and jope I honoured it well 😭😭 but fr i had been stalking their profile since the begigning of their self aware! au and ivloved their acc 🥺🥺I love their imagines and how they fulfill the request yet leave enoith for imaginstion !! (which, don't mind if I do🤠all of the König scenarios added tovmy incessant daydreamimg hhhhhhhhh oh no),, and when they followed me I was staring at my phone with the BIGGEST goofy grin on my face 🥹🥹Thank YOU sm!!!!! 🫂MUCH LOVE!!!!!!!!!!💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

*To anyone waiting (I've gotten such lovely messages from people saying they liked my first fic (which made me so happy as it was the first ever fanfiction I published online🥹🥹)), Part TWO of my first fic is on its way !!!,, I didn't want to make u guys all fluffy 🥰🩷💘✨🤗 inside only to tear your hearts 💔🥀🗡️🗡️😭 in two witj this 😿 dw I promise to reward u guys with another fic and cute himbo (and absolute menace while on the battlefield 👹)König <33, with King X König having more wholesome interactions in the near future!!

If you had told König that he wasn't real, he would have looked at you blankly and said nothing, passing off your suggestion as a joke of sorts that he possibly couldn't understand.

Perhaps if he was ever faced with a situation like this he'd question you about it, but nothing more, and drop the subject at hand.

Honestly, the likelihood of him ever thinking over this twice would have been slim, as he would not pay your philosophy much thought shortly afterwards.

In fact, he believed that his life as a Kortac operator was indeed a real one, and he wore his embroided Austrian flag on his shoulder with something next to pride, always praised for his outstanding efforts by his superiors in the same tone of voice. To König, however, it meant nothing, and he'd only nod his head in an attempt at gratitude, turning his back to the commemoration in indifference.

Despite not remembering anything of his childhood, his upbringing — hell, even any of his past prior to becoming a soldier — König didn't ever think over it too deeply. The overwhelming pressure to make sure missions went without a hitch and constant deployments to foreign countries left no time to reminisce, especially not when his work was so demanding, and it only made sense to him that they were the reason for his forgotten memories.

Besides, even if he had time to spare and be inactive, he had to stay focused, as being an operator meant that he couldn't let any nostalgia or softness distract him from his tasks.

On the battlefield, König worked on autopilot, performing finishing kills with efficiency and with machine-like precision. Reacting quickly to enemies ambushing him from behind or an enemy that was laying on the floor behind the corner waiting to shoot him in the head, he'd eliminate the targets with bullets to spare. Really, he was unstoppable, and he was on a killing streak.

Until he was shot in the head one day.

The moment it happened, the shot was like an explosion that almost obliterated his eardrums, outside noise deafened like his head was underwater. All he could hear was the high-pitched ringing, and it held an uncanny resemblance to the beeping of a heart rate monitor machine that he would never lay next to, dying instead on a bed of cold rubble and broken shrapnel.

Somehow conscious enough to look around, his mind was completely empty, eyes attempting to adjust. What he'd assumed would happen in a time like this was his mind flashing with memories like a movie reel in his last moments, his entire life playing out in his final dying seconds.

Yet he remembered nothing. No Mama, no Papa, no childhood or any his life trials, nothing that had changed him and moulded his character, not even his motive for enlisting into the military in the first place.

The part that was most unnerving about all this was his complete apathy to it all.

Did he even care that he was dying? Shouldn't he at least feel regret at having essentially been the one to pull the trigger, cutting his own life short with the lifestyle he had committed himself to? Why wasn't he scared, sad, even bewildered at the very least, shocked that his life would soon end so unceremoniously? Fuck, not even mild disappointment at least at not even had travelled the world, and failing to ever explore any place besides abandoned buildings housing hostages and terrorist bases swarming with foes? Nothing at all?

Unable to process his situation, König just... laid there, unmoving, while his surroundings moved in double speed. Nondescript figures holding rifles wearing camo and balaclavas blurred in his vision, and he couldn't differentiate the enemy from his own.

Slowly losing consciousness, he felt his world darken around him, dulling his senses to the mayhem unfolding in real time. He'd accepted his fate, and could do nothing about it. That was that. And this was it.

It was a shock to his system when a silhouetted hand pulled him up by the arm limp by his side and shouted in his face, "Get up, soldier! This is no place to die!"

König didn't need to be told twice. He nodded his head robotically, his eyes looking ahead of him with a thousand-yard stare, and not even sparing a glance to the anonymous ally that saved him, he picked up the his gun off the floor and loaded another magazine into it with a satisfying click.

In his delirium, he worked on autopilot after that, shooting at anything that shot at him first. Too much in a daze, he was past the point of realising that the gaping bullet wound had suddenly sealed itself, vanishing entirely and leaving no mark that it was ever there.

After that, König didn't realise that he wasn't real when any injuries still didn't affect him. He assumed that his insensitivity to wounds was a result of a high pain tolerance, and his body healing miraculously was his ability to regenerate fast.

Although he would lay on the ground, his arm outstretched while through gritted teeth shouting: "Scheisse! Ich brauche hier Hilfe! I need some help over here!"; truth be told, he'd only do so when he after getting used to seeing so many bodies writhe in pain like so, and something for some reason told him that it was the right thing to do.

Waking up moments after not far from the spot he supposedly died in a daze, all bullet wounds gone, he didn't have time in the moment to think over the specifics of his death. Maybe he was hallucinating, or remembering things incorrectly.

König began to suspect that something was wrong when he'd hear his operators say the same sentence word for word. He rationalised that the constant shooting that never ceased even late into the night and dangerous missions that left him with far too many close calls put pressure on his mind. This mania amongst soldiers in the military was a common phenomenon after all, so it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise for König when he felt waves of déjà vu at hearing statements he could have sworn were related to him before at one point, and going to infiltrate areas that were vaguely familiar.

At some point, he thought something was REALLY wrong when he was storming a military base with... a sniper rifle.

Time stood still as he inspected the weapon in his hands, eyes wide.

That... was impossible. He had never been a sniper. True, he had wanted to be one from the beginning, yet he had adapted to his role as the main means of assault, always on the offensive rather on the defensive. So then... Why?

Adding to that, his appearance would differ. They were subtle changes at first, yet still noticeable: a red helmet instead of his black; an ochre hood instead of his black veil with its signature red streaks; a sniper camoflauge when that disguise had never been in his possession before; and even a gas mask with a hazmat suit when he had been wearing something else altogether on the helicopter heading towards its destination.

Although König hadn't know it yet, his reality was slowly shattering along the cracks, but he stubbornly fought the gnawing feeling that ate him up from the inside. He had to stay focused, he repeated to himself. No time to ponder when a task was at hand.

"All units ready your weapons, and in position immediately." Through his walkie-talkie, a voice began counting down the time left before the mission would begin. "60 seconds."

König checked all of his gear, making sure that everything was in place and he was fully equipped. A rifle, a side-arm, ammo, grenades, a med kit for an emergency and a knife. "40 seconds."

Looking up into the sky and straight into the sun, he didn't need to cover his sight as his eyes weren't affected by it at all. Yet, his eyes squinted in confusion, sensing that he was seeing something that he wasn't meant to see behind the glowing eye. "20 seconds."

He saw more than an eye. An ear, a nose, then a mouth. A face.

He saw you.

You were looking at him through a screen, holding a controller and waiting to start playing your game.

His reality shattered all at once, and he stumbled on his feet, unable to regain his balance, feeling himself go weak in the knees. He tuned out the all-important seconds through the communication device, unable to compose himself as for the first time ever he struggled to breathe.

Suddenly, all of it made sense.

People telling him the same things and never deviating from the topic of the mission, the reawakenings, the pain insensitivity — all of it was because none of it was never real.

People never branched off into other topics of conversation because their sole existence was limited to a few hand-selected voiceliness and idle animations. With each upgrade and level up, König had gotten praise from from him superiors, which explained how emotionless their announcements always sounded and why they were so constant.

The frequent brushes with death weren't a matter of luck, and instead it was just his entity respawning until a certain condition was met, until either Kortac or Specgru came out victorious — otherwise, he could "die" as many times as it took until the time ran out.

He was unfazed by bullets that grazed him and knives that tore though his flesh as he could physically feel no pain, his very existence artificial, his skin composed of pixels with no human matter hidden beneath them.

And, his inability to trace back to before he was transferred to Kortac was all because it was all he was programmed to know. There was no childhood. There was no Mama or Papa. It was just him in this world, and he had been manufactured, his thoughts and behaviours fabricated.

For a moment, he considered you the creator of his word, his God, and felt forsaken. He wanted to curse you, to snap your neck in his hands and watch your head drop lifelessly in his hold.

Yet it became apparent that you weren't the one behind this realm. Seeing the headphones strapped to your head and the controller held in anticipation in your hands, you were simply indulging in a past time, and weren't to blame for his state in any way. It wasn't your fault that you were unknowingly playing as a König trapped in the game.

You let out a groan of frustration, mashing buttons on your controller in an attempt to get König to move.

"What the fuck is going on?!" You hissed, trying in any way you could to start playing. Checking your router and the game's ping, you saw that your connection was secure, and that there was no reason for König to be frozen in place. "Fucking piece of shit console."

König shook his head, still disbelieving and unable to accept his fictional reality, yet hearing the sound of your voice made everything an even tougher pill to swallow. He had to stay in character. For you; it was the least that he could do.

After the initial lag at the beginning of the match, the game went smoothly and you couldn't find any faults. However, you suddenly noticed that your movements over König improved, moving with more fluidity and suddenly taking less damage than what you would normally use to. Headshot after headshot and kills all of the time poured onto on your screen until you'd find yourself being ganged up by bitter players wanting to ruin your streak as revenge.

Still, you topped the leaderboards with a new personal record that night. 97 kills to 0 deaths flashed on your screen, and you jumped up from your gaming chair, ecstatic, almost knocking it over in the process.

König felt butterflies in his stomach seeing you smile and jump around excitedly, and that's when he had found his purpose.

From that moment on, you became his lifeline. You gave the unfeeling König something to live for, a motive to keep fighting that he hadn't been given when being created in the game — for you and your greater good.

Really, you made him feel things: made him feel alive; made him fight with more passion and determination when your happiness was on the line.

He fell... In love.

The feelings and emotions he felt in his chest chest were genuine, and weren't pre-written in a script or manipulated by a third-party. Even the bullets that would pierce through his gear and leave him on the ground withering in agony was worth it, and he'd exchange his invincibility any day to feel what he felt when he saw your face, and the smile that tugged at your lips when you were revived or got a difficult kill.

His love for you was immortal, and it would persist through generations and could last for a lifetime, and König was almost certain that you could feel all of his energy channelling through your TV.

He found himself lovingly staring at you through the screen, admiring you as if you were an ephemeral being, a beautiful angel, even when your hair was greasy, your old tee had armpit stains and your eyes were bloodshot from how long you had been playing. Really, none of that put König off — if anything, all of those made you so distinctly you, so human.

Yet, König was in love with someone that was practically in another dimension and he would never speak to them, never touch them, never share thoughts and pass the time doing everything and nothing with them. None of that, because he wasn't real.

Had his life improved now they he had grown self-awareness? Had his ignorance really been bliss before his revelation? Perhaps if he had been another NPC that only gained manipulated consciousness whenever the player spawned in the map he wouldn't be so stricken with grief and crouched over in agony, the knuckles on his hands turning white from how fervently he was gripping his mask. He'd hyperventilate off-screen, sometimes the torment being too much.

Being so close to you yet being restricted to his three-dimensional world was bittersweet at the least, and internal suffering at most. His insatiable craving to be with you, and you with him only, fuelled his desperation, and he tried to keep you with him for as long as possible through any means necessary.

When you selected an operator that wasn't König, your game glitched heavily and would even crash whenever you made the mistake of even complimenting their design, and God forbid whenever you tried to play as someone other than him, as your console would near explode.

When you'd boot up a different game on your PlayStation, your loading screen would suddenly transport you back to the one of MW2, König greeting you with a voiceline that he reserved and perfected just for you:

"Welcome back, schatz. I have been waiting for you." Because he treasured you, and you were the only person that he could ever have feelings for.

Perhaps a recent update was fucking up your console, or it was just malfunctiong due to age. Either way, playing on an eight year old PS4 meant it could only run for so long and glitches like this were inevitable, yet you persisted in keeping the console running, not in your budget to afford to upgrade.

You'd search frantically on the internet for any information about the new König voicelines and whether there was any resolution for your problem when playing CoD, something telling you that your game was not functioning in the way that it should.

A thought crossed your mind that König had gone rogue, and you tried to laugh it off. Swallowing thickly, that still didn't relieve the deep pit in your stomach. If anything, the mere idea made it worse for you, and you'd get an intense gut feeling that would make you feel dizzy whenever König would make eyes contact with you and stand there, making you question whether he was acting out of character or not.

His attempts to keep you with him were commendable, yet none of it could change the fact that it would never be anything more than one-sided pining, a deep longing for a person whose world kept spinning while his stopped once you logged off the game, his day ending abruptly and being consumed by darkness.

For now, König had to content himself with being stuck behind a screen. He wished so desperately to be able to touch you, to escape this human generated world that trapped him in these bounds, and to find who he really is when with you. Shrouded in this deep black void, all he could do was wait patiently until you'd boot up the game again.

A hand was placed on his side of the screen longingly, resting it gently on the face on the other side.

Note: this wasn't meant to be so sad ,how did an idea of König popping out from the screen turnvto this 😭😭

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 5 months

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Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you're playing the game, and notice how your operators seem to move on their own, but you attribute it to stick shift, but it's really them keeping an eye out for themselves even when you're not paying attention.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you take a quick break to scroll on tiktok, either alone or in a party with friends, and the operators on screen seem to... move a bit more than you've seen in other instances. Their sway is more aparent, their idles include more detail, but nothing too out of the blue.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who make sure they get good kills and are always aware, keeping your K/D in the positives and always using their "in game" senses to be aware.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who pray to have a new, fashionable skin, just so you can play with them a little bit longer.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who laugh at your curses and shit talk, enjoying when you speak your mind, or listening to music if you do, maybe even just listening to your breathing as you play.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who gush when you fawn over them in new skins, or over your favorite ones, who can't hide their pleasure and smile. It's an idle, you think, but it's always very convenient that they do it "on time" after you compliment them.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but feel jealous when you favor more... popular operators. Ghost, Konig, Gaz, Soap, etc... they want to feel even a fraction of the praise you give them.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who seethe when their base skin isn't available in the more affordable packs, wanting to spend time with you and show off their skill instead of being stuck behind a locked screen...

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but laugh anytime you play one of the guest operators, Niki, Snoop, Homeland, etc. It's so odd seeing them on a battlefield or even in the operator screen, but as long as you're happy, they adapt quickly.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who up the ping on opposing teams, lag switching them, or even causing their games to crash just so you can secure the win. Any for you.

Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who don't understand why their universe connects to yours through the game, but with this connection, they crave to bring you to their world. The fight that would ensue on who gets to keep you? That's something they know will come but refuse to accept.

#x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #modern warefare x reader #call of duty self aware au #codsaau

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phantomglass · 6 months

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self aware cod au

There it is again. Their sweet laugh. He could hear it echoing around the empty aircraft after another round of victory. He looks at weapon in his hand, turning it around a few times before staring hard at it.

His thoughts ran wild, thoughts of you. How you controlled him to use this same weapon to execute your enemies. How you were able to quickly gain your focus back even after getting off guard several times by the enemy, Your great aim, Your swift moves in clicking and guiding him, Your compliments for him each time for getting a kill... Oh, you sure are generous with your compliments. Even when he feels shit about himself and even after knowing and loathing the reality that he's just codes put together for other people's entertaiment and fun,

but even then, he loves all the compliments and attention you gave him. He loves your voice, your laugh, the way you say his name. He hates the fact he couldn't see you. He often wondered what you look like. Especially after he somehow was able to get a small peak of your hologram face. It lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt like years passed. He was flabbergasted and became a stone for moment. You thought it was a glitch but really, it was just his encoded heart beating really fast. Then after awhile, came the thoughts of wanting to see you. To stare at you, to touch you, to hold you, to make you flustered just like how he did with just his voicelines. He wonders what you would do if he's right infront you, right now.

Suddenly the aircraft's ramp door began to open, making him look at it and your voice chiming in.

"Alright, you ready another round?"

─

Reblogs & comments are highly appreciated!

@phantomglass

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doodler-jpeg · 7 months

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Thinking about self aware! MW characters (plus Roach) who absolutely adore your laugh.

CW// gender neutral, unfunny men deserve to be slandered, favoritism is seen, badly translated Scottish and Spanish, this is based off of my interpretation (you can find the main fic link on my account)

Feedback and criticism are highly encouraged! Please tell me if anything is badly translated, out of character, or something else!

Ghost actively makes jokes that are guaranteed to make you at least giggle. Even through this weird mental barrier (for him) and your monitor's screen, it's so invigorating to hear some form of joy out on the field, especially when it's from you. It just makes that fuzzy feeling in his heart multiply.

"Thank you, thank you - I'll be here all night."

Gaz takes absolute advantage of this. He makes a few jokes here and there, but keeps it to interesting stories. In some instances, he just starts laughing out of nowhere and you can't help but join in. It's very clear he gets bitches on the daily.

"Didn't know I was that funny, but I'll take what I can get."

Price uses all of his past experiences with courting to get, at the very least, a giggle or two out of you. He doesn't have millenium of experience (contrary to your belief), but he's certain that his "old-man" charisma and his weird way with words. But he still tells some older jokes, so your assumption that he's older isn't completely wrong (he was totally raised by his grandparents).

"Would you like to hear a story?" *Tells one of the pointless joke stories that lasts for 10 minutes and has the stupidest punchline*

Roach can't really come up with ways to make you laugh. His preference of keeping quiet and faceless doesn't really help, either. Instead, he tries to point out some enemy on the field, signing insults to them that you're sure to understand.

'His head looks like a donkey, and he acts like one, too.'

Soap physically cannot keep you from laughing. He doesn't even have to make a joke, you just start laughing. He believes it's because he's just an immediately funny dude, but you're not going to tell him that he looks stupid with that hairstyle. If he does tell any jokes, they're not even funny.

"Dinnae ken how come ye'r laughing, bit keep daein' it."

Alejandro tries, he really does, and it doesn't work most of the time. It's kind of funny seeing this overly-confident dude absolutely fumble because of his lack of realization that your personality and humor aren't really the same as the people he usually catches. On occasion, though, he does get a rise out of you and can't stop smirking about it for the rest of the day.

Valeria has subtle jokes that rely mainly on her tone, but those aren't her priority. She doesn't mean to be rude (lies usually, but with you?), but she does impressions of your laugh and then comments on it. Usually they're not bad, but it does feel demeaning sometimes.

"Me gusta esa risa. Jejejejeje."

"You know why Mexicans call Americans 'gringos'? ... Would you like to?"

Rodolfo doesn't always try to make you laugh - he still gets a bit disoriented that you're no physically there (which means he can't see your face, but what is he gonna do about it?). His humbleness and large range of jokes really comes through, especially since he'd been the family entertainer at parties. If you can understand simple jokes in Spanish? You're practically set to be unable to keep a straight face, and he loves it. (Even if he doesn't understand it, he'll turn it into a mini lesson so you do)

"¿Qué dijo el gato cuando chocó su carro? 'Miau-to.'"

Nikolai has a handful of Russian jokes at his disposal. Are you completely guaranteed to understand? No, and he doesn't expect you to. If you do understand Russian, boy howdy is he gonna have the time of his life! You won't be able to breathe properly until he's out of sight!

"You see, it's funny because-" *explains joke if you don't understand*

Laswell is a huge fan of subtle jokes. She often makes small, funny comments that get light-hearted chuckles out of her. However, she also has older humor, which means you're less likely to understand unless you, too, are old (which isn't likely, but it's still a possibility). She likes hearing you laugh and really does try to get some sort of connection with you, even if it doesn't work.

"What did the chicken say when it crossed the road? 'Damn it, I missed the bus.'"

Alex is a funny man. He's aware of his effect on people and uses it to his full advantage. As a people-pleaser, he makes it his duty to get you to laugh as much as possible. If he doesn't make you laugh, he'll make himself laugh, and then you laugh. He's totally not putting all his effort into jokes just to get you to laugh or anything. He's just that guy.

"Me? A tryhard? Whaaaat? Psh- as if."

Farah has no business with nonchalant jokes, but she makes them work. While she does like the sound of your voice, she doesn't want to force it. She believes that intentionally funny words can diminish any genuine laughter, so she sticks to half-assing it in hopes you at least giggle. That's not to say she doesn't try to get you to laugh - she just does it far less, since she can't see your face (but she can just imagine the glee on your face if you get the giggles because of her).

"What is your type of humor? Asking for a friend."

Graves is unintentionally funny. When he tries, he fails miserably. He says a southern phrase that might not be super known? You're cracking up. He doesn't get it, but at least you're going 'teehee'.

"What's so funny 'bout me sayin' cattywampus? It fits the situation!"

#cod self aware au #self aware au #self aware call of duty #john price x reader #x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #phillip graves x reader #nikolai x reader #laswell x reader #alex keller x reader #farah karim x reader

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v4voracity · 21 days

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TOO CLOSE - SELF AWARE COD CHARACTERS X READER

⥇❥"Reader" is described as "feminine leaning" or "feminine sounding"; however, they/them and it/its pronouns are used and no bodily adjectives are used in this part because reader is only described as "that person" or "the voice". Let me know if I should make an alternate post(s) slightly adjusted for masculine or androgynous description, and if I missed any content warning tags. I plan on making a masculine version for this one due to someone's request, currently deciding if I should just slightly re-write to change descriptions or fully-rewrite it :)

⥇❥Word Count: 3940, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ body horror(?) ↪ usual “Darkfic” stuff, ↪ yandere tendencies ↪ Angst™ ↪ possible OOC characters ↪ american author writing (mostly) british people

I totally plan on continuing this drabble with another part so some of the warnings aren't quite apparent yet teehee <3

Link to main masterlist - Link to TOO CLOSE sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

There was always that nagging feeling that Ghost was being watched, paranoia which he had long since grown accustomed to. But, there were always times he felt it… heighten, where this… this strange sense of dejá vu seemed to take root in his mind. Sometimes, he felt like his movements weren't his own despite it being his will that moved those joints.

It occurred often after he joined the military, and occasionally, when in the quiet of his thoughts, he could hear something. At first, he thought it was a teammate coming through his comms, yet “the voice” wasn't familiar.

He remembered when he first heard it.

A quiet voice saying something he didn’t quite catch. He sighed, heavy and annoyed at himself, focusing a bit more on the radio firmly strapped to his chest as he pressed a button with a familiar practiced ease. Despite the fact he laid prone on the ground, hidden amongst foliage he had no trouble reaching it and speaking up. It was… slightly embarrassing that he lost focus and needed to repeat instructions, but he’d rather face slight embarrassment over fumbling an important mission because he didn’t want to ask for them to repeat what was said. Not that Simon “Ghost” Riley was afraid of dying. As a soldier he honestly felt more fearful that he’d fuck up a mission and get yelled at by a superior. That he’d hurt people he was trying to protect. That he’d prove that nagging voice in the back of his head right, the annoying doubtful little shit always lingering despite his confidence that had grown with experience.

Regardless, he didn’t care to debate with himself about yet another experience that would keep him up at night, wallowing in his bed thinking about everything he could’ve done differently. “Say again?” He asked, cautious to remain quiet and hidden, yet gravely tone firm and clear enough for the other side of his line to hear. Yet no one on the other side of the line said anything previously, voicing their confusion when he asked them to repeat something never said.

Yet no other soul was around the precarious position he perched himself, his scope aimed at distant enemies. He even briefly glanced around, surveying his surroundings for possible danger, anyone, anything. Then “the voice” came through again, energetic and excited— far too unprofessional for how serious that mission was. ‘A recruit,’ he would’ve thought if not for the fact nobody else acknowledged it.

However, once the mission ended, that strange feeling faded, and “the voice” didn't appear again…

…Until a few months later, on another mission.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched, the almost foreign feeling of his own body, and “the voice” returned. His skin crawled.

As if something had forcefully crept beneath it, lifting the skin and making itself comfortable in his body. Claiming it for itself as it burrowed deep into the muscular fiber, into his organs, and flowed in his veins in place of blood. It felt… parasitic and invasive. It disturbed him greatly how the feeling came and went suddenly without cause. Leaving him as it wished and then showing up without warning, without his permission. How it happened to him regardless of how steeled his nerves were. Of how experienced he became.

And, as he would soon find, no matter how intensely he looked around, nobody else was present. Yet “the voice”, which he had to strain to even remotely understand, seemed to respond as if they could see him based on the few words he could catch.

“HOLY SHIT! He looks so cool, dude! Look at his fuckin’ rifle, his gear! This was so worth the wait. He’s got a new mask too! I’m so glad they brought him back, ugh, literally my favorite poster boy of the whole franchise.”

And if Ghost focused a little bit more, he'd notice it didn't quite sound right, as if it wasn't speaking aloud. “The voice” didn't echo around the room when he was inside, didn't echo through the air when he was outside, nor did it have the crackle of the radio. It was simply muffled, like if someone talked from a room over.

“...Uh, yeah, it was totally worth the fifty-freakin-bucks. Rent can wait, my war criminal pookies can’t! …Yes I know they’re probably not actual war criminals. Yeah, I KNOW they’re… man, you’re no fun. Let me simp in peace.”

Ghost knew he hadn't exactly been the… most sound of mind, but he truly began to worry he might have been hallucinating. “The voice” had been following him for an increasingly long amount of time at this point, and he mostly tuned it out. He recently found himself in a new group though, which led to a disturbing realization that he wasn’t fully insane. His worries about that were swiped away when Soap (his new sergeant who was a little too talkative for his own good, in Ghost’s opinion) ever-so-casually asked about “the voice” he overheard during the mission, which he couldn't quite recognize. Everyone in the helicopter was surprised on the ride back, anxiously discussing that faint voice they'd all heard— had been hearing on and off during missions. It gave Ghost a whole new fear.

It was no secret that a majority of the people in base and on missions with them were men, so that distinctly feminine voice being hard to pinpoint caused a new worry among the team. The potential breach of their communication network. The topic came up as an innocent question from Soap about who “the voice” was before everyone realized they all heard that voice, contradictory in how it sounded so near yet so far, so clear yet it hurt their heads to try and process what was said, clouding their minds in a haze if they tried focusing on it for too long.

It was a clear cause for concern.

Their task force, Task Force 141, a highly-qualified team, who frequently had taken on missions even some of the most seasoned veterans would find difficult.

Their task force, carefully hand-picked from all corners and crevices of the globe, skills compared, packed like a puzzle to cover all fronts. Their identities and information taken apart and put back together, their secrets in the open to the prying eyes of Captain Price as he was given the authority to form a team. Personalities scrutinized against one another to ensure the utmost efficiency and dynamic interactions between teammates.

Their taskforce, the best of the best, highly efficient, a well oiled machine crafted with the utmost caution for the most risky, dirty, and sometimes immoral missions that most wouldn't be able to stomach. All for the betterment of the world and for the protection of their homes and countries.

And yet they couldn't find a single trail, not a single damn clue, about this… voice. "That voice" that came and went almost exclusively on missions, too. There were very, very few cases where it breached outside of missions. Truthfully, Ghost didn't know what he found worse. That the team heard it outside of missions where they didn't have radio communication, simply just out and about, or that it had breached past the sanctity of the missions, crossing into the supposed safe zone of their respective bases, homes, and private lives. Passing the line that they usually hide behind for comfort after rough missions, the place they went to lick their wounds, to reload their guns, and to confide in each other. And this thing, brash and bold came through, kicking that metaphorical line in the sand and bouncing past their defenses without repercussions.

It started in instances where they could ignore it.

Where it could've been just their mind playing tricks or someone who sounded similar.

At first it was Soap, running around the track and hearing it faintly. He could've mistaken it for the music blaring through his ears if it wasn't for the fact he knew the lyrics by heart, and the singer sounded nothing like "that voice".

“Whoa, Soap cutscene. We’re being fed today. Get your bowls 'n spoons.”

He could’ve sworn he even heard a ‘clank’ of glass or something. It was worse when he realized his earbuds didn't block out “the voice” anymore than usual. It was always somewhat muffled and incoherent unless he focused, even in the quiet. Yet the earbuds in his ears didn't alter it at all. He took a longer shower than usual that day, trying to let the cold water shock him enough to forget what he heard while thoughts ran wild in his head… It ended with him being slightly late to an important team meeting and getting assigned some training as punishment. He chose to keep why he was late a secret, not wanting to startle anyone about “the voice” or sound crazy.

Then it was Gaz. Friendly, slightly more inexperienced than the rest, Gaz. Gaz was on temporary time off, having accidentally pulled a muscle in his arm. He was simply walking through the streets of a nearby town where he had rented a flat. He rarely actually used the thing, since he spent most of his time at base and it was more convenient to use the barracks. Nevertheless, he still found himself in the quaint little town, going for groceries to stock his apartment's fridge. He was weaving through the streets when he heard that odd and unrestrained laugh, snorting and uncaring if it's an embarrassing laugh.

“Gaz… my pookie-wookie, my cutie-patootie, my absolute ray of sunshine… WHOMST THE FUCK IS DRESSING YOU LIKE THAT?!”

He probably looked like a madman with how frantically he looked around, suddenly stiffened and still as some people complained behind him from how abruptly he stopped, causing them to bump into him. Yet nothing conclusive, he couldn’t even figure out the direction it came from, much less find out who it came from. He didn’t bother talking about it, only loosely mentioning it later when it came up in a discussion.

After that it was Price and Laswell. The two of them standing in a surprisingly mundane office in the base, not expecting much when that bold-fucking-voice echoed through both of their ears. Something about being a homewrecker? They… didn’t know.

“Laswell!!! Man I wish they had her appear more often, she’s so cool… I’d totally marry her if she didn’t have a wife… What do you mean you’d become a homewrecker in seconds? Have some fuckin’ respect for the woman. Besides I thought you liked Price? He’s… single? I think?”

But it forced both of them to lose their casual mood from before, because they both heard it and neither of them knew what to think about the fact that they were hearing it outside of missions now. That… that was very bad.

The last straw was when Ghost was handing spare masks to the team when there's a faint comment about it. He can't quite hear it, can't quite wrap his mind around what's being said. No one ever seems to make out the words; at least not fully. As if there's a barricade between them and “the voice”. A veil yet to be ripped away to reveal the person underneath. A blockade made to infuriate them and taunt their attempts.

“How many do you think he has?”

A small silence follows the initial voice, as if waiting for a response, then followed with a giggle. A response unheard to his ears, to anyone’s ears. The others tense, hearing "the voice", but no one comments on it at the moment. They had a mission to get to. But they all knew they needed to do something when they got back.

“They probably do smell. They’re out there hiding in grass, getting bloody and sweaty, sometimes deployed for a month, so they definitely stink.”

And yet nothing came of that either. The only thing that changed is that they were all aware of this voice that seemed to follow them. That only their taskforce ever seemed to hear or acknowledge it. That "the voice" came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sounding as if it was being broadcasted directly to their brains. No trace of this thing only they could perceive, and they started coming to conclusions that were less than rational; because rational thought hadn’t gotten them anywhere thus far. Gaz suggested it might’ve been a ghost, to which Price corrected that it must be a demon rather than a ghost, Soap suggested it was some weird matrix shit, then Laswell tried to convince everyone it was some weird shared delusion. They couldn’t settle on any theories. Ghost didn’t need an explanation. Or at least, he tried convincing himself that, tried telling himself he just needed this thing gone.

These abrupt drop-ins by “the voice” went on for a long while. Something they regrettably got used to. Something they let fester and become a part of them, even if they didn't know it. “That voice” ingrained into their brains, the elated giggles, the annoyed groans, the triumphant cheers, the frequent queries, answers to questions they never heard, stupid comments, everything in-between...

Ghost didn't notice at first. Time went on, the Task Force's missions increasing after they bombed General Ghorbrani during an arms deal Ghost intercepted. Things were escalating into a silent war the general populace wouldn’t notice, and likely never know about, kept quiet and under wraps to keep the waters calm. The voice lingering on every damn mission, somehow with all of them at once even if they were in different corners of the globe.

Then he had a wave of realization wash over him.

It was an easy mission compared to the previous few. An easy in-and-out. Just him and Soap, watching a building from afar. Biding their time. He felt anxious, a long gone twitch in his fingers resurfacing as he felt his fingers become clammy beneath his gloves.

He had to stay calm, stay cool. He was ‘Ghost’ right now, a walking dead-man without weakness. He was strong. This mission was easy.

This was no time to be antsy. Patience, he reminded himself. It was just him coming down from the high of adrenaline of the previous missions, all fast paced and requiring frequent combat. That's what he tried to tell himself, when that bloody Scotsman casually began chattering over the radio.

Jokes, bad ones, yet jokes he shared an enthusiasm for with Soap nonetheless. Ghost could tell there was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke though, equally antsy. He may have been somewhat distant but he was perceptive. Picked up on behaviors in others. Read them and their emotions. It was necessary in his job, and he was sure Soap probably picked up on his nervousness as well, as he was smart, even if he sometimes seemed a little air-headed and brash at times.

"No laughs from 'that person' today?" Soap feigned offense. Then they both realized. They were anxious from the lack of that person. “The voice”. They obviously didn't know who it was or their name, but everyone on the force knew who was being referred to when someone said 'that person' or “the voice”.

It felt laughable that they were startled by some incorporeal voice not being there. If anything, they should be grateful they were spared its presence. Yet they weren’t. Ghost laid in his bed that night, sleepless, a common occurrence for him. But tonight instead of the nightmares that played when he closed his eyes, he just… contemplated. Brooding.

It was a few nights later when he came to terms with it. He knew some things were wrong with him, hell, most soldiers had something wrong with them if they worked as long as he did. But, he found himself.. weirdly fine with it. It seemed some of his teammates felt the same way as he did, and others did not. Soap made jokes out of it, unafraid around other Task Force members to refer to “the voice”, sometimes speaking directly at it, most of the time not getting much in terms of responses. There was only really one time he could make out something from “the voice” in response to one of Soap’s direct words towards it.

“That line… didn't play last time I played this one.”

It was probably one of the only things he could make the full sentence out of, and it seems everyone else on the team heard it fairly clearly as well. “...‘That line?’” Price repeated, quizzical. Referring to it like a game.

“Must… Must be an easter egg.” A nervous laugh followed.

The next time he found himself on a mission with that strange feeling, as if he weren’t himself, as if something else willed his way… There was almost complete silence. Unusual, a first for that sinking feeling to be there without any noise. He noticed after the missions were over that only when he had that uncomfortable feeling was "the voice" responsive.

“Not talkative today?” He asked, not really to anything in particular and not expecting any sort of response. He could almost intuitively tell whatever “the voice” was, was there. He was again alone for this mission and that probably was what gave him the confidence to actually speak to it. He wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him and sounding crazy. And the response? Well, it was hard to hear, almost inaudible to him, but he heard a small gasp, and a shaky breath afterwards.

…That was probably the first time the weird feeling left his body mid-mission. As if it was the one unsettled when every time it appeared, he and his teammates felt out of control, a passenger in their own body, hazed and moving as if puppets. Hearing a voice that lacked a body, floating around and seemingly coming from nowhere. It had no echo, no substance or matter, as if the sound didn't vibrate through the air.

And it was a while before he, or anyone, heard that lovely—

…“The voice” again. He was careful not to directly reference it. Them.

Ghost thought about it some more, and found himself talking to Gaz one night at the pub, Soap hammered, currently in the bathroom while Price tried to help him to get stable enough to get to the rented car so the four of them could return to base. “Maybe Soap wasn’t too far off with the Matrix idea.” Gaz idly swirled his cup, almost devoid of liquid and only really clinking the ice in it around. He wasn’t really talking to Ghost in particular, more-so rambling to the air and himself due to him being tipsy.

Ghost leaned back in the booth, his mask barely lifted enough to allow him to drink a bourbon he’d been nursing half the night. Didn’t want a hangover the next day, he’d already be in a bad mood since he had recruits to train and they were often stupid and infuriating. “Yeah? How so?”

Gaz, who seemed to not really mean anything when he initially spoke, sat up straighter, more zoned in on the conversation upon seeing his Lieutenant had taken an interest in what he was saying. “I was thinking about some of the things I’ve heard, that the others have heard, and just… the reactions in general. And that feeling… I don’t know if you get it but—”

“Like you’re possessed.” He interjected, knowing what he meant. Gaz’s eyes widened slightly. While they all knew about “the voice”, it seems none of them knew that weird feeling was shared. The feeling of being possessed, watched, almost like they were prey, not highly experienced military men capable of defending themselves and others. He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon, setting it down on the table and looking back to Gaz, tucking his mask back down over his face.

“It’s just like… Like they’re playing a game. Controlling us. The reactions… It's like when you complete an objective or something. And it’d explain the feeling, like we’re controlled. Plus with how they reacted to Soap that one time, I could see it.”

“See it? The hell you seein’?” He didn't want to believe his life was a game. But Gaz made some good points. Ghost… No, Simon didn't play many games. He’d played a few party games with his team during off-time, Price convincing them that Mario-Kart was in fact a good team-bonding activity and absolutely necessary. But his off time wasn’t usually spent playing games, it just wasn’t something he could relax enough to do, never able to get calm enough to focus solely on said game.

“Imagine you’re playing a game—”

“Hard to imagine.” He barks, slightly sorry at the tone, though he wouldn’t correct himself.

Gaz sighs and continues. “Okay, imagine that it's team bonding night, and we’re playing Mario Party. Imagine everyone having a good time, laughing, chatting, playing the game, when Mario turns directly to the screen and acknowledges you. Like, unprompted, never happened before when you’ve played the game hundreds of times before? You’d probably be a little freaked out if you knew it wasn't the type of game to do something like that.”

Price interrupts, Soap slung over his shoulder and motions for them to head out to the car after he pays for the tab. Once everyone is in the car, Gaz continues.

“It’s just, the shit they said made me think about it. ‘That line’, ‘last time I played this one’, hell, them directly talking about us talking to them as an ‘easter egg’ makes it seem pretty clear to me.” Price glanced over, raising a brow at Gaz, who was sitting in the front passenger as He drove. Ghost was unfortunately stuck with a very clingy Soap in the back seat. “It’s clear whatever they were referencing is similar to a game, one they’ve played before. “

“You talking about ‘that person’? ‘The voice’?” Price sighs, slightly exasperated at the topic. He wasn’t quite convinced about "the voice" being real. He was still slightly in denial, but his slight intoxication must’ve allowed him to continue listening to the topic, not shutting down Gaz’s line of thought quite yet.

“You see what I mean though? If you were playing a game and the character you were playing just randomly acknowledges you out of nowhere, suddenly fucking sentient, you’d probably be scared shitless, especially if they’re a normal civilian.” Price hums, and Ghost blinks slowly, taking the information in and moving away from partaking in the conversation. The reaction was pretty akin to the one from when he was alone and spoke to “the voice”.

“Who’d wanna play a game involving the shite we do? We’re a bunch of soldiers doing unsavory work, I doubt that’s entertaining.” Price shakes his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles slightly turning white before he relaxes his hand with a sigh.

“Maybe not to us since it’s real-life. But think about it like this, a ton of people watch horror movies or slasher films. It’s not that they enjoy watching people die or get scared, but it’s like… an adrenaline thing. And you know when ‘that person’ appears most? On missions.”

This time, nobody responded. Gaz didn’t bother continuing either, already having made his point clear. An uncomfortable air settled in the car, not even forgotten the next day, even Soap somehow was capable of remembering the conversation despite the fact his head was reeling and his stomach turning in the backseat of the car.

This time they had settled on a theory.

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nevadancitizen · 8 months

Text

-> (I'VE BEEN) DREAMING OF YOU

synopsis: könig comes into your reality.

word count: 1.2k

characters: könig, player! reader

trigger warnings: mention of canon-typical violence, maybe slightly obsessive könig oops lol

notes: self-aware cod au belongs to @puff0o0 , inspired by @simp4konig // i moved for college lol hopefully i'll be able to upload(?) more often + salf-aware aus are really my thing huh. my jam if you will

It had been a week since König figured out he wasn’t real.

At least, that’s what he approximated it to be. Time was tricky if he actually tried to count the seconds and minutes and hours.

But when he stepped off the helicopter and trudged back into base, he knew he would at least have some sense of relief. Some sense of… realness, even though he knew he only existed through the wires of ethernet cables, or maybe even something as primitive as a CD.

König knew his boots tracked in mud and blood and maybe even guts, but he didn’t care. Everything would be wiped clean and be put on a new plate tomorrow for… he guessed they would be called the players, to eat.

He shut the door to his quarters behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes and sighing. He desperately wished he could tell someone, anyone, about what he had witnessed – what he knew to be true.

He felt crazy. He felt blessed. He felt like a conspiracy theorist that was just re-inventing the idea that the whole world is a simulation – because it is! People re-invented ideas all the time, but there was nothing shameful in it. But if the rest of humanity (and for all he knew, humanity could only be KorTac and Specgru) oohed and aahed and said, “God, we live in a simulation? I’ve never heard that one before!” just to make him feel good, nothing would ever get done. But it still stung to know such a heavenly being existed and to keep such a huge secret.

Of course he was talking about you, thinking about you. When did he not think of you, actually?

He felt almost hollow without you. Like you had given him warmth with your control – a raging bonfire he could only observe from a distance, but still felt the full heat of: as in, an actual heat in his chest whenever he felt his control slipping away, replaced with the security that came with being in your presence. And König didn’t hate it. Not at all.

He didn’t even bother to shrug off his work equipment before he threw himself onto his bed. He turned over and swaddled himself with his blanket to try and emulate your warmth. It did nothing.

It was a while before he fell asleep. And he had the strangest dream…

He was in your room. He had only caught glances of it, but here he was, tangled in your blankets and in your bed.

And there you were. Sitting at your desk, typing away at your laptop. Your back was to him, but he could tell it was you. Even at this distance, you were so warm.

You were wearing the big, chunky headphones you always wore when you played. He could hear quiet thumping bass coming from them. It was the only sound he could hear aside from your quick keystrokes.

König slowly untangled himself from your blankets – he still had his boots on, the ones that had mud and blood and maybe even guts. Then he realized he had all of his work equipment on.

He stood and surveyed his surroundings. Everything in your room was so… you. (Obviously. It was your room.)

His eyes snapped back to you when you took off your headphones. You pressed a button on the side to pause your music and then set them down. You stretched your arms above your head and let out a quiet groan as you leaned back.

You looked so soft. So cute. Nothing like what König had seen through the screen. You had been slightly bitcrushed and pixelated, but now…

The warmth that blossomed in his chest was like no other. It spread out into his limbs, almost making him weak in the knees. His eyelids fluttered, but he forced them open to look at you, take in more of you.

He tried to say your name softly, as to not startle you, but it came out choked and loud and awkward. His voice even cracked.

You were so scared you nearly punched a hole through your monitor. You stood and turned, immediately grabbing a pair of scissors that were on your desk.

Your hand shook as you pointed the pair of scissors at König. “T… take off the hood!”

König kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, even bending at the knee a little to be less threatening. He puts up his hands in a surrendering manner. “Schatz, no, it’s me. It’s König.”

“Shut up!” you barked. “I’m not – no way am I being killed or robbed or whatever by someone in cosplay!” Your eyes flit over his body, spotting a knife on his utility belt. “And give me your knife. Try anything and I’m – I’ll…” you glanced down at the pair of scissors (which you can’t really stab him with). “I’ll snip your dick off!”

It honestly takes a bit of effort on König’s part not to laugh. Still, he slowly, carefully took the knife out of its holster and offered it to you, the blade pointed towards his chest. “Please, be careful.”

“I know how to handle knives,” you snapped. You put the pair of scissors back on your desk and took to pointing König’s knife at him. You took a tentative step closer, your jaw set. You reached a shaking hand out towards König’s face. “Don’t… move.”

"Mein Leibling.” König breathed out the words. “What are you doing?”

“The mask,” you said. “I’m taking it off. Then I’m calling the police.”

König just looked at you with wide eyes, his blue-grey eyes stark against his eyeblack. His eyebrows creased as he looked down at you, but said nothing.

And then, König felt a blossoming warmth as his face was exposed for the first time in what felt like forever.

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your eyes rove over his face. Under the hood wasn’t a face: nothing except for his eyes, eyebrows, and a little bit of the surrounding skin. The rest of it was unloaded textures, a checkerboard of black and bright purple.

“Schatz…”

“König…”

König’s eyes opened as you said his name. You didn’t notice before, but his eyes were detailed, told a story. This wasn’t the king of the battlefield – this was König. Here, he wasn’t a killer, wasn’t someone who saws someone’s head off with a dull plastic knife and doesn’t even blink when the blood spurts out. He wasn’t the long-shot-drop-pop one-bullet-wonder. He was a man.

König gently reached up and took your wrist and pulled your hand away from his hood. It fell back into place, covering up his checkerboard face.

He looked down at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

“You’re…” you sighed – not disappointedly, but more surprised. “You’re actually him. You’re König.”

“I am,” König said simply.

“Schatz,” you said. “What does that mean?”

König smiled down at you, even though he didn’t have a mouth. His eyes crinkled at the outsides. “Treasure.”

He gently let go of your wrist, his hand traveling up your arm until it came to your shoulder. His fingers brushed against your jaw, the rough texture of his gloves making you tense just the slightest bit.

He whispers softly, like he’s afraid of you hearing his voice. “My treasured player.”

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