Call of Duty

How You Met Your Fandom

You have a perfect life: your own apartment, a job, and an insane love for Call of Duty. Your room is a sanctuary: Ghost and König figures on the shelves, a Soap print pillow, a Price poster above the bed, merch in a drawer, and a folder of fanfics on the desk.

The morning started normally. Coffee, work. You had no idea that at 2:00 PM, your home was illuminated by a red light, and THEY materialized in the living room.

Ghost, Keegan, Soap, Price, König, Nobody — everyone you loved so much.

"There's no way out," Ghost stated. "Lockdown."

They wandered through the house until they opened the door to your room. Dead silence. König picked up his figure. Price found the poster. And Ghost opened the drawer with the merch. Keegan froze upon seeing the pillow with Soap in an explicit pose.

"Guys..." Nobody called out, flipping through the folder. "There are stories about us here."

At 11:00 PM, you returned. Darkness in the hallway. Someone's hands grabbed you, pinned you against the wall, and a whisper brushed your ear:

"Quiet. Don't move."

Your heart sank. The voice was familiar.

Bound, you sat on a chair in the living room. The light flickered on — THEY were standing in a semicircle, staring at you. Ghost loomed over you. Price was fiddling with König's figure. And König himself was holding an open folder with a fanfic: "Bonds of Passion: König and I."

"Explain yourself," Ghost threw out in an icy tone.

You swallowed hard. What do you say to people whose photos are in your nightstand?

"Um..."

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