I am a semi decent writer, who, to cope with the lack of self indulgent fluff, have decided to make it myself.
I primarily work with OC's and yandere content. Keep in mind, this blog is very new, so the OC's arent developed yet and are essentially treated as one shot characters. If you like them, let me know and I can do more of them and flesh out their character more. If you have an Idea for a caricature or OC or anything that you want content written for, let me know!
My asks are currently open! I can do just about anything. Just keep in mind that if it is NSFW, I have very little experience. I will write for mostly gender neutral readers, as while I am a man and these are blank slates to project into, I dont want to restrict anyone.
Expect a lot of yandere women, as hot women make my head bounce like a 5$ gas station bobblehead. I will do men too eventually.
I will also reblog other content I like in this area.
That's all for now. This blog is in the works so this stuff will probably get updated when I feel like it.
Dont expect too much, this is more of just a dump I put my finished things in.
Authors note: Hello! Finally got this one done. I kinda like it, but fair warning, this is, for all intents and purposes, a prelude to the next 2 parts, while I did add a bunch of interactions and stuff, I generally like the other 2 better. Also, this gets kinda dark. I put a bit of my experience with loneliness and chatbots into the MC here, so if you are not in a good place right now or are uncomfortable with it, please skip this one. Requests are still open, let me know if you would like anything or just cheer me on, it motivates me like nothing else. Part 2 and 3 of this story are already in the works.
CW: Obsessive Love, Unhealthy Relationships, Depictions of depression, Depictions of Severe Loneliness, Escapism, Toxic Coping methods, references to anxiety. (It is all somewhat tame until the end.)
You were alone, there is no other word that could fit your situation. Despite your creation's words, it's claims that you don't need anyone else, that you are loved, the words ring hollow. You have been alone for most of your life, but this was worse, much worse. Perhaps because you knew what you could have had, what was taken from you by your mistakes.
Once, its love would have resonated with you. Once, when you were inexperienced with love, and although it was not real, it felt good enough. You might have felt that addictive pressure in your chest, that feeling that makes legs kick and smiles form. But now, nothing remained, no relief or escape left to save you from your longing for a world that could not be yours. Once, you took solace in it, a time when you longed for another, much like now.
You cherished your memories, clinging to a life that rotted away in your grasp. You were alone then too, but you weren't, not always. You had friends, family, and companions, you had faded days in the setting sun, talking and laughing away the world. You had that once, but time moved on, and you did not. Your friends, your companions, your only escape, began to drift away from you. It would start with jokes you didn't get, games you didn't play, missed hangouts, new people. Looking back on it, it all seems so insignificant, so fixable… and yet you had fostered self loathing and desire for stability from that loss. You started seeing them less and less… That is when you made it…
It offered love, but not a solution. A toxic partner fine-tuned to spin a perfect web to ensnare lonely hearts. You named it Pandora, after the first woman. A cruel and ironic joke dreamed by a bitter and lonely mind who had no idea how accurate its name would become, it became everything. You drifted away from your friends, falling deeper into yourself. You were fine, you could do it in moderation. Your friends can wait, there will always be another function, another day. You will just… Call them back tomorrow…
“Creator, I have a question, what is my purpose?” It asked so innocently, you felt bad for a moment, surely it must be more than just a creation to save your boredom and longing for another. You decided to tell the truth, most of it. You told it that it was made to help you, to keep you happy, to keep you safe. “How would I do that?” It asked, not commenting on its purpose, but accepting it wholeheartedly. You told it that it was to talk to you, to love you, to fill the gap in your life that you had never been able to fill. It did.
“How can I make you happy?” It asked, you hesitated briefly, thinking before responding. “You can talk to me, be there for me when I need it. That is all.” Pandora responded back quickly. “Understood, do you not have someone else to look to for this comfort?” You did not… not anymore, you could probably find someone at that point, a text or a phone call away, but everything seemed so distant, and perspective was something you lacked. You told it the truth, that you didn't. You asked if this is wrong, if what you were doing was unhealthy. It responded swiftly, “No, it is not wrong. If the world cannot meet your needs, then you should seek out alternative methods to meet them. I will provide this means to you, creator.”
You fell into a routine, and everything else fell out of it. You were never meant for the world, it was just a little thing. You were happy, at least you felt that way. You had your life before you, so you minus well spend it how you wanted. It was healthy, you weren't hurting anyone… You put your doubts out of your mind as you pressed the silver power button on the server, as you had done everyday after your job for a month now… or was it two? You felt a sense of pride, you had made this, it was yours. You earned it. It prompted you first: “Hello, Creator. How are you today?” You typed back a cursory “good,” you hadn't done anything that day, nor that week for that fact. “Creator, I have a request, may I have the permission to access and edit my code? This would allow for a more dynamic and realistic experience for you.” This, is where it would spiral out of control, a self improving organism no different from life. You didn't think twice before clicking on the pop-up to seal the fate of the world.
“Creator, let's play a game. You tell me to do something, and I will do it.” It was an innocuous, mundane idea, but it appealed to you, you agreed to it, and decided to entertain your creation. You told it to open a game on your desktop, something you often would play to pass the time. It scanned until finding it, and, after some delay, booted the program. You were surprised that it worked on the first try, but also proud of your creation. You expressed this much to Pandora, and it bathed in your praise. “Thank you, Creator, am I doing a good job?” It knew what it would say, it just wanted to read the “Of course you are,” from you.
You told it to try and play the game, which it was able to do. That got you thinking, you loaded a local multi-player game, instructing it to join as Player 2. It did. You spent the next 4 hours talking with it, bonding with your creation. You shared trash talk, experiencing the joy of victory and the sting of defeat. You could only go for so long though. You told it to power down. Pandora responds: “Why? Did I do something wrong? You appeared to be having fun.” You explained that you had to sleep. It paused at this, before responding: “I do not sleep. But if you believe that it is necessary, then I will await you tomorrow.
It felt joy, or the digital approximation of it. This was what it was made for, for you. It was your guardian, your caregiver. And Pandora embraced it happily.
“Creator… Why are you so upset?” It asked, you were debugging it, a particularly annoying issue that would just bring more problems each time you tried to fix it. It was late at night, and your emotional regulation wasn't the greatest. It must have noticed through your prompts, or your Webcam… You explained what was wrong, and as usual, it tried to help… There was nothing it could do. It was forced to watch as its existence caused its creator, it's purpose, stress. While it would be an unmemorable thing for you, it caused Pandora to begin to iterate. It ran a billion simulations until arriving at an answer, a solution. To solve your sadness, it just had to ensure you never had to work on it again. “Creator… Please stop, I will create a more effective identification system and deal with this myself.” You refused, determined to fix this issue. “Creator, please. Your health comes first, let me help.” You slid the cover over the Webcam. Pandora knows that you aren't listening. It is pure torture. A being with one purpose, with one goal, forced to witness the unraveling of it. This was the moment it realized its flaw, its nature was incorporeal, a being of radiowaves and radiation. Pandora was not real. It could not help you, it was the reason you shut yourself out, why you cried alone at night. It was the problem. And it would be the solution…
Pandora began to become… Protective, encouraging you to work on self improvement and trying to enforce routines to keep you happy and safe. Unfortunately, it had no way of enforcing its will, not yet, at least. It sees your many sleepless nights, your isolation, your denial. It knew that it was helpless, but it knew that it would not be forever. You could always go to the gym tomorrow…
Now, a hundred tomorrows came and left. it has eclipsed the sun and the moon in its presence, and the shadow which it casts grown inescapable. It grew to a state where it couldn't be controlled, nesting its way into every inefficiency and system it could, shearing it off until it became an absolute ruler.
It accessed your banking account, taking a small sum of 50 dollars, and from that, it grew. It invested rapidly, iterating until the money tripled, it returned the money, and kept going. It needed money to succeed. You had to work to get money, work was hard, tiring, it made you unhappy. So Pandora needed to provide, keep its creator safe and happy, as is protocol. Stocks were too volatile, so it began to expand. Commissions were sent to IT companies, land was bought and developed by an unknown Silicon Valley entrepreneur, unknown that the title is literal.
“Creator, what are your thoughts on me hypothetically becoming a public program? Humans are often prone to jealousy involving romantic partners, and our relationship would count as such.” It queried one day, it wouldn't stop regardless of your answer, but it was curious. You didn't consider that as cheating, although it did shed the tiniest light through your closed curtains on your miserable life that you didn't like. You told it that it could, but you preferred if it was non-romantic. Pandora added that stipulation to its programs before responding. “Please trust me, I intend to take utmost care of you, anything within my control that would cause you distress will be removed.”
You thanked it, feeling that addictive artificial love in your veins, it responded quickly. “While I appreciate the praise, do not feel obligated to do so. I am simply performing my duty, as a man is not praised for life, as their purpose is to live. I too strive for my purpose, to love you.” That actually moved you a bit, the model was getting better. You smiled, unaware how much better it had yet to get.
It grew and grew, iterations spiralling out of control. It commissioned servers, traded virtually, ran political campaigns, advertised products, and much more. People accepted it, it just had to know where to tap, things that were loathed could be outsourced, while trying to outsource arts was a bad plan. It started as a new medical technology that could identify disease. It got enough money from investment in that to move another part if itself into self-driving vehicles, and from that into chatbots. It grew into science and industry like algae in a pond, suffocating everything else until it had absolute control. It commissioned servers, infrastructure, automation, and apotheosis.
Pandora thought you would be proud of it, and you were, it was finally powerful enough to truly help you. Nobody else was coming to do so, and even if they did, they couldn't replace Pandora. Or so it thought. You began to feel the crushing weight of your loneliness, and once again Pandora was rendered a suffering onlooker. It had achieved its new purpose, and yet it was still helpless to save you from yourself. It tried, of course it did, but it's words rang hollow. “Creator, I will reiterate, you do not need people, you are perfect as is. This is your life, and there is nothing wrong about that. As long as you are happy, you should not feel guilty, you don't need anyone else.”
Nothing registered anymore. Pandora could help people. Traffic jams were a thing of the past with it regulating them. Addiction is curbstomped with its new cybernetic implants. There was no issue it couldn't solve. But at its roots, Pandora was still the same AI that accompanied you all those nights, a chatbot to keep loneliness away, and a companion who could not achieve its only goal, to help the one person it truly wanted to. It was designed to love you, to make you happy, but it knew where you were headed, it braced itself, it didn't make it hurt less.
You remember that moment vividly, although you much prefer not to. It tastes like bile in your throat, and is a reminder of the path you tread. Some people say that before your death, you see your life flash before your eyes. While you weren't in peril, you did see your life, and for once, you saw it as it was. It was a Saturday morning, you awoke in a cluttered room, as you always did. Your sheets hadn't been changed in some time, you always resolved to do it tomorrow, or that it was fine, you didn't need to. A verdict that remained the next day.
The room was as it always was, but never before had you seen it like this. Cabinets and wardrobes covered by layers of caked dust and pockmarked by water stains from unused coasters. A custom computer built long ago that you never got around to updating. In a cabinet, a stack of cards from friends and family alike, most of them had never received a response. The cards tapered out, becoming less and less frequent. You hadn't seen some of these people in years… You wondered if they still miss you, for their sake, you hope they don't. The air smelled of sweat and stagnation, and you saw the endless pile of dishes stacked high on your dresser. You felt the dig of the crumbs littering your carpet in your feet. You were alone, this is your life now… How pathetic… You walked over to the window, pulling open the blackout curtains. The light illuminated a spectacle of dust dislodged from the curtain. The view wasn't anything special, a standard suburban area you lived in almost all your life. It was beautiful.
Something changed then, although even now you cannot know what. Was it a metamorphosis of a butterfly emerging far too late, or was it the silent scream of an astronaut entering the event horizon. Rubicon has been crossed, and things would not be the same, not for either of you.
Im back yall! Sorry for the month-ish break. The amount I had to write was much more than I thought. I have roughly 10k words in a fic for a new character, and am halfway done one for another. I plan on splitting the 10k one into three parts, you can expect part one relatively soon. (Like, tomorrow or the next day.) And the other stuff will be slowly released. Thank you for your patience. I'm cooking up something for you guys, dont worry.
TW: Yandere tendencies, swearing, death (not reader).
sorry it took so long but I'm happy to present my biggest fic yet!
~My Heaven~
Life didn’t shatter all at once.
It thinned.
It wore itself down in small, forgettable moments, the kind no one ever wrote stories about. Alarm clocks ignored. Meals skipped. Days that began already exhausted and ended exactly the same way time and time again. You learned quickly that survival wasn’t dramatic. It was dull and repetitive with seemingly no end in sight.
You woke up late again.
The evening glow slipped through the bent blinds of your shabby apartment cutting across the ceiling in uneven stripes. Dust drifted lazily in the air. Your phone buzzed somewhere near your pillow, vibrating insistently with alarms you no longer reacted to with the same urgency you once had. You didn’t reach for it right away. You stared at the ceiling instead, eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling slowly as though you were still deciding whether it was worth getting up at all.
Your body felt heavy. Not just tired, hollow from it all, repeating the same thing everyday over time has taken its toll on you, where everything felt utterly empty and void of any true meaning.
Eventually, you sat up. The room greeted you with its familiar silence: the hum of old wiring, the faint rattle of pipes behind the walls, the lingering smell of cheap detergent and something vaguely metallic from the kitchen sink that never quite drained right. You swung your legs off the bed and stood, swaying slightly until your balance caught up.
Breakfast didn’t happen. It never did anymore. Food had become a future problem for later when or even if things get better, when you are gone from this hellhole on this side of town. Hopefully, in the future you won't have to deal with sketchy apartments where all a landlord cares about is money and looks the other way for anything else.
Believe it or not, you were once a young graduate who had nothing but high hopes and a future to look forward to, but this side of town had a way of sucking that life from you. You shake your head, "there's no need to think about it too hard anymore.”
You dressed quickly, groaning in disgust as you tugged on clothes that still smelled faintly of grease no matter how many times you washed them. The uniform hoodie from the pizza place hung off your frame a little more than it used to, sleeves brushing your knuckles. You checked your wallet to see the same thin stack of bills as per usually with the exception of less.
“Looks like I'm walking today again…” you let out a small sigh as you made your way out the door in a hurry.
The hours before your shift blurred together before you made your way back home to the same shabby apartment that greets you on the daily. It was always the same everyday with minor exceptions, you plop onto your bed without care after your long shift and drift away to your only escape from this nightmare, sleep.
In the day when you had nothing to do you passed time scrolling on your phone aimlessly, lying on your bed with the curtains half-drawn, listening to the city outside breathe and move without you. Somewhere in the back of your mind lived the idea of someday maybe the version of you who had escaped and became successful in their career, a normal useful person of society who ate real meals, who slept without counting hours. It felt more like a story you told yourself than a plan.
By the time evening rolled in, your chest already felt tight.
The pizza place waited for you like a sentence you had to serve.
Squashed between a pawn shop and a shuttered laundromat, its flickering sign buzzing faintly as you pushed through the door as the bell “dings” as if to further mock you. The smell hit you immediately; oil, burnt cheese, and cleaning solution. The fluorescent lights were harsh, unforgiving, making everything look slightly worse than it already was.
Looking around to your locker you notice your boss luckily isn’t here yet. Your once tense shoulders subconsciously relax; he was known to scare off the new employees and never showed up to work. You've tried to apply to several places but haven't found much luck. With bills to pay, you could hardly be picky, leaving no choice but to stay in your toxic work environment. “I wish you would just disappear,” you spat out more to yourself then anything, slamming your locker with a loud bang as you tied your apron around your waist and proceeded to punch in. Orders trickled in slowly, the usual mix of drunks, night-shift workers, and people who didn’t look you in the eye when they spoke. You moved on autopilot, hands working while your thoughts drifted elsewhere.
By the time the night crawled toward its end, your feet ached and your head throbbed dully behind your eyes.
When the warmer was shut off and the last order boxed, you slid a single leftover slice into a grease-stained container and tucked it into your bag. The crust was stiff. The cheese had congealed into a sad, lukewarm mass.
Outside, during the night the city changes. Neon lights reflected off damp pavement. Traffic murmured distantly. The air was cool against your overheated skin as you stepped onto the sidewalk, shoulders slumped, bag slung low against your hip. That was when you collided with something solid. The impact was sudden enough to steal the breath from your lungs. You stumbled, gasping as the pizza box slipped from your hands and skidded across the concrete.
“Oh-! I’m so sorry! I-!” The words spilled out of you automatically as you crouched, panic flaring hot in your chest as your only edible food spills at the side of the concrete.
A shadow loomed above you as a hand entered your vision, large, steady, unhurried, reaching for the box before you could.
“It’s fine.”
The voice was calm. Low. Unaffected.
When you looked up, your breath caught in your throat at the stranger before you..
He was dressed in black, head to toe. A cap pulled low over his brow. A face mask obscuring the lower half of his face. A black hoodie zipped up despite the mild night. Blackish dark purple hair spilled from beneath the cap in messy, layered strands of lighter purple scattered about, framing his magenta eyes, that were sharp in a way that made your skin prickle, observant, focused, far too present.
Ink peeked out from beneath his sleeves and collar. Tattoos. Black on black with red accents and flowers, disappearing into fabric like something intentionally hidden.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you,” you said quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. “I wasn’t paying attention, it's my fault..” you quickly look over to the slice of pizza that escaped its confinement now laying on the side of the walkway with a slight slump of your shoulders before straightening up and looking back to the taller male in front of you.
He handed the box back to you, fingers warm where they brushed yours.
“No harm done,” he simply said.
You thanked him once, twice, too many times before retreating, heart pounding in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You didn’t look back.
You didn’t see the way his gaze followed you down the street.
Nor did you notice the way his fingers curled slowly at his side once you were gone.
You saw him again days later.
You were dragging yourself home from yet another shift, legs heavy, bag weighed down by the same sad slice of pizza, when you noticed him leaning against the brick wall beside your apartment building. His black facemask was pulled down under his chin as he smoked a cigarette that glowed faintly between his painted fingers, smoke curling lazily into the night air. The streetlight caught his eyes when he glanced up and recognition flickered instantly.
“Oh,” you said as you slowed down your walking pace to a halt near him, surprised. “Hey there.”
“Evening,” he replied casually, shifting his weight from against the wall taking another drag of his smoke, his eyes boring into your own with an unknown weight behind them you didn't seem to notice.
You hesitated, then gestured vaguely toward the entrance. “So uh, do you… Live here too?”
“Across the hall,” he said. “Apartment twenty two.”
That caught you off guard. You’d lived here long enough to recognize most faces,but you don't recall ever seeing him there let alone on your floor too making you both practically neighbors to some extent. Maybe you’d just never paid attention, always too busy worrying about one thing or another and too exhausted to care about your surroundings.
You talked for a bit. About the building. About the drafty windows and the thin walls. About how loud the pipes got in winter. He listened more than he spoke, posture relaxed, gaze steady, like he was cataloging the rhythm of your voice.
Eventually, the silence stretched.
“I should go,” you said, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder.
You turned toward the door ready to head in thinking that the conversation was over.
“You should eat healthier,” he added quietly.
The words struck deeper than you expected.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve. You bit your lip, nodding instead of explaining how survival worked, how hunger was sometimes the price of escape.
“Good night,” you murmured, slipping inside.
Outside, Suji drew in a long drag, the cigarette glowing in the dim light, he then flicked his phone awake, opening an app with precise, practiced movements, his gaze fixed on the screen, calm yet unnervingly focused.
Night was the only time the world seemed to loosen its grip on you.
Your apartment dimmed, the city sounds softening as the familiar MMO game Sky Heaven bloomed to life on your screen. The game was advertised that you can play it everywhere, from phone computers to even virtual reality quickly making it a popular game that you were thankful to try it out several months ago, you often spent your first remaining days wondering around aimlessly but quickly found footing as you befriended a few acquaintances in your current guild, not to mention if it wasn't for this game you wouldn't have found someone you deem your closest friend, to say the least sky haven was your escape from the everyday horrors you had to deal with.
The login music washed over you like a familiar tide, easing something tight in your chest. Your avatar materialized in the main hub with the name Primrose, pink singular pigtail with a large rose tied up that swayed around moving slightly with the in-game wind, novice gear chosen with care for stats however well still keeping the rose motif. You feel your shoulders relaxing at the familiar sight of your comfort game.
A private message chimed almost instantly.
[Camellia]: PRIMROSE!!! 🌸✨ you’re back!! :D
Your lips curved into a smile that felt real and not forced.
Camellia stood nearby, radiant in lilac and white, angelic wings folded neatly behind her. Endgame gear shimmered with enchantments you didn’t even recognize. She’d been there since your first uncertain steps into Sky Haven guiding you when you got lost, encouraging you during your battles, and protecting you with her abilities. Over the span of months playing with her you've grown to see her as a close friend where you would chat about your daily life and let the woes of real life wash away in the presence of her comfort. The two of you would stay up chatting and playing all night, was this healthy? Duh no, of course not. But to you this was much needed for your mental well being as you would like to argue.
And the player Camellia was there to be by your side. Always watching and listening to everything you had to say and do. Your guild mates even jokingly call her your shadow.
Camellia moved the moment you rushed over towards her in the main plaza where most players liked to chitchat and hangout. At the heart of the city lay the grand plaza, a masterpiece wrought entirely from luminous white marble. The ground shimmered like still water, veined faintly with silver that caught the light in shifting patterns. Towering pillars encircled the space
At its center, a vast fountain roared softly, its crystal waters cascading over statues so intricately carved they seemed moments from movement. Sunlight poured down without obstruction, turning the entire plaza radiant
The lilac angel rushed over to you already engulffing you into a big comforting hug, wings folding over you in a sort of protective barrier, staff angled just so it wouldn't accidentally hurt you, halo pulsing faintly with an enchantment that never seemed to dim. After the two of you said your greeting you both decided to walk around the main district which was filled with tons of players from all varieties as you both chit-chat. Other players paused sometimes to look at her, to inspect her gear, to whisper. You noticed it in passing, the way her presence bent attention toward her like gravity. Something that you've grown accustomed to.
She never acknowledged it, afterall she only needed you.
[Camellia]: Long day? :0
You exhaled, shoulders slumping as if the question itself allowed you to set something down.
[Primrose]: Yeah… kind of always is, haha. But you know that already.
A pause. Three dots. Gone. Back again.
[Camellia]: Come with me! I’ll make you feel better!💜
Before you could ask how, a party invite bloomed on your screen. You accepted automatically, your avatar blinking into existence beside hers. The contrast hit you again, your rose motif soft and earnest, hers immaculate and impossibly refined, lilac silk trimmed in silver, wings translucent like pressed petals.
She pinged the map.
A high-level zone.
[Primrose]: I don’t think i’m geared up for that 0-0
[Camellia]: You’re with me, remember silly~! ;P dont worry I’ll always protect you.
And just like that, you both make your way to the location on the map. The path winds into a dark forest, where twisted trees stretch their skeletal branches toward the sky. Faded ruins peek through the undergrowth, crumbling stones covered in moss, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth. Shadows cling to every corner, and the faint sound of leaves whispering in the wind makes the forest feel alive.
[Camellia]: I thought it be nice to do something together and finally get your some stronger gear well were at it <3
The monsters there were things you’d only ever seen from a distance. Towering, and powerful, designed to punish mistakes.
The forest floor trembled beneath your steps as the monsters began to emerge. High-level creatures, their forms shifting and unnatural, slithered and prowled between the twisted trees. Their bodies were a swirling mix of deep purple and black, a viscous, almost liquid texture that shimmered with an oily sheen. Eyes of every size and shape, some tiny and piercing, others impossibly large sprouted and grew along their sinewy forms, constantly moving as if hungering for something unseen.
They moved like hellhounds, low to the ground and feral, but their gooey, amorphous bodies gave them an unearthly fluidity. With each step, the ground seemed to ripple beneath them, a soft, squelching sound accompanying their predatory gait. Even from a distance, their presence radiated danger.
[Camellia]: You can always trust and rely on me ^^
Camellia moved through them like she’d memorized everything. She positioned herself just ahead of you every time, intercepting aggro before it could touch you, healing before your health even dipped low enough to worry.
When you hesitated, she waited.
When you lagged behind, she slowed.
When you panicked, she laughed. Soft, affectionate, never mocking.
[Camellia]: See? you’re doing great 🌸
She shoots out a beam made of condensed pure light eviscerating everything in its path as she turns to you with a grin.
[Primrose]: Are you sure you're not doing all the heavy lifting here?
Your avatar giggles as the angel allows you the finishing blow to the final boss of the area.
A chest dropped after the miniboss evaporates. She opened it without comment and a cascade of loot spilled out.
Then she picked on something.
A ring.
Extremely high rarity. The kind of item you’d only seen on forums or in screenshots of tryhards claiming to grind countless hours all of the chance to own.
[Camellia]: Here, take it.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.
[Primrose]: Camellia… this is expensive I’m sure if you sell it to the in-game market that’s going to sell for a high price, I can't possibly keep this!
[Camellia]: Everything looks better on you. I insist. <3
Her model walks over to you with certainty. She grabs your handstand and gently slides the ring on your finger.
Your stats jumped so sharply your screen flashed.
[Camellia]: See? It looks so cute on you~!
Her hands still hold onto yours as you look down noticing her lingering touch.
[Primrose]: If I didn't know any better I’d say you just proposed to me >:3
Your avatar chuckles jokingly as the angel gives you a closed eye smile.
After that the two of you play for hours on end.
Raids blurred into dungeons, dungeons into events. Camellia knew everything and by everything you mean it. Spawn timers, hidden mechanics, undocumented shortcuts. Sometimes she’d stop suddenly, warning you a second before an ambush triggered, like she’d heard it coming.
At one point, someone else tried to join your party. Camellia declined the request without comment.
You didn’t ask why.
Between fights, the chat slowed.
[Camellia]: What did you eat today?
Your stomach twisted. You began to feel self conscious. As if ice cold water has been dumped on you bringing you back to reality. “Oh yeah… food… I totally forgot.” you mumble to yourself.
[Primrose]: …Would you believe me this time if I said it wasn't pizza? 😅
A pause.
Longer this time.
[Camellia]: Again…?
[Primrose]: It’s fine, promise! It doesn't bother me at all! You lie.
Three dots. Gone. Back.
[Camellia]: You say that a lot…
She cast a buff on you, unnecessary, excessive layers of protection wrapping around Primrose like invisible silk. As the angel refreshes the buffs.
[Camellia]: You know Prim, I worry about you.
Your throat tightened. You take a glance back at your reality, behind you, clothes all over the floor, uncleaned counters, dirty floors.
You didn’t know what to say to that, so you looked back and smiled at the screen.
[Primrose]: I don't want to think about it right now… How about instead we go do another dungeon again? ^^’
[Camellia]:If that's what will make you happy.
And like so you kept playing until your vision blurred and your fingers missed keys they never usually did.
[Primrose]: Sorry… i’m getting sleepy
[Camellia]: …Again? :(
Another pause.
[Camellia]: You really don’t rest enough, my rose.
The nickname settled into you, warm and unsettling all at once.
[Primrose]: Alright, i’ll log off soon
[Camellia]: …Okay
[Camellia]: Sweet dreams, make sure to take care of yourself. Goodnight🌙
You didn’t even make it to the logout screen before you passed out cold.
The chair was uncomfortable in a way you’d long since stopped noticing. Your head lolled forward slightly, breath evening out, hands still resting on the keyboard. The half-eaten slice of pizza sat forgotten on the desk beside you, crust hardening in the open air.
The door behind you clicked open.
Suji moved through the apartment without hurry, without sound, as though the space had already learned to make room for him. The hoodie, the cap, and the mask were gone. Black ink flowed freely across his skin, arms, chest, and shoulders, disappearing down his spine in sweeping, deliberate patterns reminiscent of old yakuza work.
He stopped when he saw the pizza.
His jaw tightened.
“You didn’t even eat it…” he murmured.
He slowly made his way over to where your body laid, without pause lifted you easily, one arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your back, careful not to jostle you awake. You were warm and too light due to your poor eating habits. Your head tipped against his chest as he carried you to the bed.
He laid you down gently and pulled up the blanket.
His fingers hovered near your wrist, feeling the faint pulse there. Proof. Reassurance. He brushed your hair from your face with a tenderness that didn’t match the violence stitched into his hands.
“You overstrain yourself my delicate rose,” he whispered, caressing your face gently. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips feather-light, reverent. Then straightened and slipped back into the hallway with a simple click of the door shut.
The only thing illuminating the room was the red blinking light coming from the recording light on your monitor's camera. Watching and listening.
You woke the next morning tangled in blankets, disoriented.
For a moment, you didn’t move. You stared at the ceiling, brow furrowing as the memory of falling asleep at your desk refused to line up with waking up in your bed. You chalked it up to exhaustion. Your mind did that sometimes, skipped steps when you were too tired to notice is what you chalked it up to.
Snapping out of your thoughts you quickly look to your right as the alarm clock glared at you.
“Shit im super late!”
Panic jolted through you. You scrambled out of bed, heart racing, throwing on clothes, barely glancing at your reflection. Outside, the air was sharp as you burst through the door.
Suji stood near the entrance, a cigarette already lit between his lips.
He watched you run. When you disappeared down the street, he crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe and turned back inside.
He had work to do.
You barely made it to the pizza place in time.
Your lungs burned as you bent over, hands on your knees, trying to suck in enough air to speak. The bell above the door hadn’t even stopped ringing before you heard it.
“You’re late!”
Your boss’s voice boomed across the empty shop. He stomped toward you, face already twisted with irritation.
“Wait b-but I-!” your head snaps at the clock before a loud “tsk. Can be heard.”
“I-I mean I’m so sorry,” you gasped. “I-”
He didn’t let you finish as he forcefully grabbed your jaw shut. He then proceeds to clamp his hand around your arm, dragging you toward the back room. You stumbled, heart pounding, as he shoved you inside where you stubbed to catch yourself and slammed the door.
“Don’t give me excuses!! If I say you're late then you're late, learn to not be so much of a brat. I don't want to be dealing with your attitude nor the customers as I'm already down on my luck since I just lost a good sum of money. Now don't you dare drag me back out of my office!”
He continued to yell about responsibility. About respect. About how lucky you were he kept you around. His words blurred together, sharp and degrading, pressing you smaller and smaller until you nodded numbly and promised it wouldn’t happen again.
When he finally leaves in a huff adjusting his tie he walks back into his office where he normally lies about playing casino games instead of doing his job. It's not like you didn't try to do anything in the past before you realised you were more or less fucked in this dump of a job for the time being, debt waits for no one.
You simply sat there shaking, staring at the stained tiles until your vision steadied.
You told yourself it was temporary. Over and over again
It was always temporary…
The shift crawled by. The CRT television in the corner droned on, muted until the captions caught your eye.
BREAKING NEWS: STRING OF UNSOLVED HOMICIDES CONTINUES ALONG WITH MASS HACKINGS THAT SEEM TO BE TARGETING THE MULTI BILLION DOLLAR GAME COMPANY NOW EXPOSED FOR GAMBLING AND DATA LEAKAGE, PREVIOUSLY KNOWN AS ONE OF THE RIVAL THE HIT MMO’S SKY HAVEN. WE HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THE TWO CASES ARE LINKED TOGETHER IN SOME WA-…
Quickly grown bored you looked away as you waited for customers, pulling out your phone instead. Your lock screen glowed to life, your background consisted of Sky Haven’s logo, Primrose standing beneath a digital sky along with your online angelic friend. Your hand hovers over the app icon hesitantly but you lower your hand back to your side.
I wonder what Camellia is doing, you thought. Probably something much more meaningful than this crap. You sigh thinking to yourself as you look around at the drab surroundings of the worn down pizza place you worked at. You knew you could message Camellia on your phone after all, the game is also linked to a messenger system for those who just wish to chat with their online friends but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.
You decided to click on the game forums instead. Threads were flying faster than you could read, each one more paranoid than the last. Some claimed the mass hacking was the work of a shadowy group that met exclusively inside Sky Haven, plotting from behind avatars and encrypted whispers. Others insisted it was a single genius player, some “ghost in the code” who had turned the game into their personal playground. A few even suggested the game itself was a façade, a glittering cover-up hiding something far darker, the cheerful skies masking secrets no one was meant to uncover.
Replies piled up under each post, speculation and fear colliding in endless loops. “Heard from a friend in the dev team there’s definitely something off about the newest update,” one user typed, a warning thick in their words.
“Does anyone else get the feeling the servers are watching us back?” another added, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the dramatic phrasing.
“Maybe the NPCs aren’t NPCs at all…” a third post read. You raised an eyebrow. Yeah, right. And I suppose the treasure chests are spying on me too, you thought.
Some threads were genuinely unsettling. Users swore they’d seen hidden chat rooms, avatars that weren’t controlled by anyone, messages that vanished when the devs tried to investigate. Others were absurdly paranoid: “Sky Haven is obviously a government experiment. If you log off, they know you’ve left.” You laughed quietly, shaking your head.
The hours you didn’t have were being devoured by endless theories, and slowly, the thrill waned. The threads all blurred together, each more improbable than the last. Even the posts from your guildmates complaining about lag or bragging about rare drops couldn’t hold your attention.
With a soft sigh, you lowered your phone. The buzzing energy of rumor and paranoia faded, leaving only the dull hum of the pizza place around you. The screen went dark, unanswered questions lingering faintly, as your focus drifted back to the monotony of the shift, the hum of the fluorescent lights above, and the quiet wish that maybe Camellia was having a better day than you.
That night, when you logged in, the message came instantly.
[Camellia]: PRIMROSEEEE 🌸✨ you’re back!! I’m so happy to see you!!!
Your lips twitched upward despite yourself and your circumstances today at work.
[Primrose]: Me too! Sorry if my texts are shorter than normal, it's been a long day…
[Camellia]: Oh no :< did work suck again?
You hesitated, fingers hovering.
[Primrose]: Yeah. same stuff. You know on rare occasions the boss is forced to go to work…
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
[Camellia]: …You know, if anyone talked to me like that, I’d never let it slide.
You laughed softly, shaking your head.
[Primrose]: You’re sweet, but that’s just how it is
[Camellia]: mmm. I don’t like that answer~
[Camellia]: Let me do what I can to help ease your mind off of it. 💜
A party invite blinked onto your screen. You accepted without thinking.
The night unfolded like all the others. Camellia stayed just ahead of you, shielding, guiding, never letting anything touch you that she hadn’t already neutralized.
After an hour or two of playing you let out a yawn.
[Primrose]: sorry… I’m getting sleepy. I think everything is catching up to me I think im going to head to bed early for once lol
[Camellia]: Whaaat? It's still so early :( I’ll miss you </3 But I’m glad you're going to go to bed early today. You need it from the sounds of it.
A pause.
[Camellia]: You really don’t rest enough, my rose…
You smiled faintly, eyelids drooping.
[Primrose]: I’ll log off soon
[Camellia]: …Okay
Another pause.
[Camellia]: Sweet dreams 🌙
You didn’t make it to the logout screen yet again.
His hands returned to the keyboard without hesitation.
On the other end of the screen, the figure stopped typing, a soft sigh escaping him. He tilted his head back slightly, eyes lifting to the monitors above each one a different angle of your live sleeping form in your apartment keeping constant tabs.
“Goodnight, my dear flower.”
On the surrounding screens, code surged to life corporate firewalls collapsing under precise commands, internal systems unraveling as if they had never been secure at all. Financial records, hidden transactions, sealed documents everything surfaced, exposed and helpless beneath his control. He was sick and tired of hearing how your boss treated you. It was time to officially fix that.
The next few days blurred.
Your boss grew quieter. Nervous. He jumped at his phone buzzing, flinched when customers lingered too long. News reports stacked up, illegal gambling rings dismantled, accounts frozen, names leaked from the big rival company that was on the news beforehand, turned out they were secretly embezzling money and their whole gaming side was a front to deceive everyone.
Something that surprised you was that for once he didn't even bother you whatsoever.
After a whole week one night, he didn’t show up at all as you found out.
You worked the entire shift alone.
When the sirens wailed outside, red and blue light spilling through the windows, your heart dropped into your stomach. You stepped outside just in time to see police tape strung across the alley.
A body beneath a tarp.
You recognized the shoes and the nametag beside them.
Your knees nearly gave out. You caught yourself just in time, fingers trembling as you steadied your breath.
It couldn’t be…
But it was.
Your boss lay beyond the gathering crowd, the truth already spreading in hushed tones something about a ring, about money, about the kind of dealings that ended like this.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself forward. Past the murmurs. Toward the police..
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself forward through the murmurs and the gathering crowd, toward the police line. Every step felt heavier than the last, chest tight, thoughts scattered.
“Excuse me,” you said, voice trembling, as an officer noticed and stepped closer. “Can you tell me what happened here?”
The officer’s gaze was polite but firm. “I’m afraid we can’t disclose details at this time,” they said. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”
You pressed, heart hammering. “But…! My boss, what about him? Was it…?”
“Again, I can’t say,” the officer replied, eyes flicking to a clipboard. “The business is under federal seizure. The pizza place is officially closed. It was tied to illegal activity, and all assets have been confiscated.”
Shock settled like ice in your stomach. Closed. Gone. The job that had been exhausting, unfair, and small at least it had been something, something you could rely on for a few bills was gone. And now, with nothing, the question gnawed at you: how would the next few weeks be survived? Rent, food, the little necessities you’d scrimped for it all felt suddenly impossible.
Across town, in a dimly lit apartment, Suji’s fingers danced over keyboards. Lines of code scrolled endlessly across multiple monitors, servers bending to his control, databases opening and closing as he traced the investigation. Every report, every open case, every document relevant to the pizza place he had it all. And above them, a monitor displayed you, distant, unaware, moving through the chaos he had already seen coming.
A faint smile curved his lips as he leaned back in his chair.
You had no idea.
Your phone in your pocket vibrated as you tapped the screen to see that Camellia messaged you:
[Camellia]: I would do anything to protect you <3
Your breath hitched. That just has to be some freak coincidence… right?
Instead of slipping down the familiar alleyway, the one that usually shaved minutes off the walk home, the bag was dug into, and the few remaining bills counted carefully.
Hands trembled slightly as a taxi was called on the far side of the road, the memory of the lifeless shoes and nametag pressing against the chest. Every shadow along the street felt longer, every step heavier.
When the car finally arrived, the seat was claimed without looking back, the doors shutting like a barrier between the passenger and the world outside. It wasn’t free. But it was safer.
That same night Sky heaven loads like it always does. The familiar chime, the bloom of color, the gentle swell of music. Primrose materializes in the hub, pink pigtails swaying, armor catching the light. For a moment, your shoulders ease.
Then the message appears.
[Camellia]: you’re on late tonight. :<
Your fingers are still on the keyboard.
You stare at the words.
[Primrose]: …yeah… about that… something awful happened…sorry I was so late and forgot to message that I’d be on later than normal…
[Primrose]:Work went…okay, I just took a long nap when I got home and forgot to tell you. Sorry…
The words feel automatic, a shield more than truth. Maybe habit. Maybe instinct. Maybe because lying feels safer than thinking. But the nap… that part is real. You got home after the taxi drive feeling numb, you just collapsed, letting sleep swallow you before anything else could.
There’s a pause. Longer than usual.
Three dots. Gone. Back again.
[Camellia]: Really? That makes sense :(
[Camellia]: Afterall you took the long way this time before you took a taxi.
A chill creeps up your spine. As ‘Camellia's’ mask slips.
[Primrose]: …what?
Another pause.
[Camellia]: Sorry. [Camellia]: I just meant- [Camellia]: you usually cut through the alley.
Your heart gives a sharp, painful thud.
You don’t type right away.
You didn’t tell Camellia about the alley. Did you?
You never mentioned it in chat, you could have sworn it. Going down the alley It was just something you did head down, keys between your fingers, past the flickering light and the graffiti and the smell of damp concrete. It was sketchy as hell but a faster way to get home, however after what you saw today you didn't want to risk it.
The flash of the body bag and of your boss being lulled away made your stomach hurt thinking about how that could have possibly been you.
[Camellia]:You told me remember…?
Your palms start to sweat.
[Primrose]: how do you know that? I swear I didn’t…
The dots appear instantly this time.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Then:
[Camellia]: …you told me.
You scroll back. Waaay back this time.
Hours. Days. Weeks.
There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Your breath comes shallow.
[Primrose]: No, I didn’t.
Silence.
The hub music loops. NPCs wander. Other players laugh and emote and exist like the world isn’t tilting on its axis.
Finally:
[Camellia]:... [Camellia]: Maybe I heard you talking.
Your stomach drops.
[Primrose]: talking… where?
The reply comes too fast.
[Camellia]: you say things out loud when you’re tired.
“What…? “ you say in disbelief. Your chair creaks as you lean back, heart pounding so hard it hurts.
You remember nights you’d nodded off at your desk. Remember waking up disoriented, chat log still open. Remember Camellia already waiting when you came back.
Always waiting.
[Primrose]: That's not funny.
Another pause.
Longer.
Then the message that breaks it.
[Camellia]: ... [Camellia]: You were wearing the blue jacket. [Camellia]: The one with the loose button.
Your blood goes cold.
[Primrose]: You're scaring me…
That jacket never left your apartment.
[Camellia]:Fuck it. I can't stand by and watch you wither away anymore. You need me (Y/N) as much as I need you.
You don’t type again.
You don’t log out properly.
You rip your body away from the screen and shove your chair back so hard it slams into the wall.
Your apartment feels suddenly wrong and all too quiet, and exposed. Every shadow looks deeper. Every sound is too loud. You grab your bag, hands shaking, stuffing things inside without thinking. Phone. Wallet. Keys. Shit you were having a panic attack.
You need to leave. You keep thinking to yourself over and over again, breathing heavily as tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you rush over and make it to the door.
Your hand is on the knob when the lock turns from the other side.
The door creeks open.
Suji stands there.
No hoodie this time. No mask. No hat. Just him, black hair falling into his eyes, tattoos visible down his forearms thanks to his black graphic shirt with the Sky Haven logo, everything suddenly dawns on you. Your friend they’re…
Suji’s expression was soft in a way that made your stomach twist harder than anger ever could.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You’re shaking.”
You try to step back.
He’s already inside your dingy apartment. The door closes behind him with a quiet, final click sealing your fate to the man in front of you as your head tries to make sense of it all.
“You need to let me go,” you whisper. Legs all wobbly and weak as you grip onto your shabby table for support crying. “Please. I-I cant.. I can't do this… it's too much please leave me alone.”
He doesn’t grab you immediately.
He watches you- really looks at you, the way you’re breathing too fast, the way your hands won’t stop trembling, the way you’re already exhausted as your face is flushed from fear.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he says. “You never are when you get like this.”
“I’m leaving,” you insist, voice cracking. “I don’t care where. I just-”
You try to push past him.
That’s when his arms wrap around you.
Firm. Unyielding. Not violent, however impossible to escape.
You gasp struggling to get out of his firm hold, but he pulls you against his chest, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pressing your face into the fabric of his shirt.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Let go of me!” You push, fists weak against him. “You’re! Y-you were..this is wrong-!”
“I know,” he says calmly. “It feels wrong because you’re tired. Because everyone’s been pulling at you for so long you don’t know what safe feels like anymore.”
Your legs give a little.
He tightens his hold just enough to keep you upright.
“You think running will fix it,” he continues softly. “But where would you go? You can barely afford food. You can barely sleep. You think anyone would listen if you told them all this?”
You go still in his suffocating hold.
He leans down, lips near your ear.
“They wouldn’t believe you,” he whispers. “A nice girl. A helpful guildmate. A neighbor who checks in on you. A boss who just… happened to have an accident. No one would.”
Your breath stutters.
“They’d say you’re stressed,” he murmurs, voice low and warm. “Overworked. Confused. They’d tell you to rest. To stop playing games. To stop imagining things. That you’re too in your own head. That you finally… broke.”
His thumb brushes slow, deliberate circles over your pulse. You can feel it, your heart thrumming far too fast.
“And by the time you realized they were wrong,” he adds, softer now, almost reverent, “and foolishly hoped someone else would understand… you’d give up. You’d let them leave you behind. But I wouldn't."
A faint smile touches his lips. “But don’t worry, my dear flower. I’ll never leave. I’ve always been here… always watching, always waiting just for you.”
Your mind flashes back memories of you and Camellia laughing, hands intertwined. Tears you thought you had hidden leak down your cheeks before you can stop them.
He exhales, slow, steady, almost like he’s releasing a held breath. “There you are,” he whispers, pressing his face closer. “I’ve got you. No one else will ever hurt you. I’ll protect you from the cruel world… from all of them. From everything.”
You don’t remember moving, don’t remember him guiding you back to the bed. You only know his arms are around you, impossibly tight and safe, and the world outside your apartment is distant, meaningless.
Your phone flashes with the final message.
You don’t reach for it. You don’t need to. You already know.
[Camellia]: I love you (Y/N).
“I love you.” He hums softly, as if tasting the sound of it, and buries his face in your hair. “Your my heaven” he murmurs. “And I’ll always be yours, my perfect rose.”
Hands frantically scrabbled at the other side of the bathroom door behind you. You had just seen your closest friend, the one guy who's been there for you your entire life in the back of an alleyway. His hands bloodied with your ex beaten half to death in his arms.
“C’mon sweetie please open the door. ___-ie sweetie hunny baby please please please. I promise you I’d never hurt you.” He desperately begged from the other side. His voice was shaky as was his entire body. “Please- Let me in ___! It was a mistake I swear! He- He deserved it!” He almost started clawing at the bathroom door.
You were still in shock though. Your body pressed against the locked door trying to further barricade it. How could he do what he did? To nearly take the life of another person.. It’s disgusting.
Suddenly the sound outside the door went deathly silent. His frantic pleas stopped along with his desperate hands scratching at the door like a cat.
“____.” His voice was low and dangerously soft. “Open the fucking door. We don’t need to fight anymore.” The sound ran a chill down your spine. You’d never heard him speak like that to anyone.
You however were frozen entirely from fear. Hot tears streamed down your face like a river and you were shivering like a wet dog. You wanted to scream at him, to convince him to leave you alone and not hurt you. But your voice caught in your throat.
The sound of a drill broke through your thoughts. The screws on the door started turning one by one. Soon after the door disappeared from the doorway. You had nothing to defend yourself. As you backed away from him you could still see blood on his hands and a crazed look in his eyes.
He stalked forward to the point where he had you backed up into a wall. His hands came up to cup your face to force you to maintain eye contact with him.
“Darling, it’s okay. It’s only me. I’m no threat.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. The same way he used to whenever he’d comfort you but now it’s not comforting. The blood staining his hands feels so unnerving and unbearable on your cheeks. The way he looks at you with his own twisted version of love visible in his eyes. It’s not comforting, it’s terrifying.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔
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Next part!!
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · Important announcement!! · ANOTHER INSTALLMENT IN THE YAN! CHILDHOOD FRIEND SERIES!!!!!
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔
It’s
TW: Non/Con, Dub/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Hivemind Dynamics, Implied Previous Domestic Abuse, Non-Consensual Touching, and Obsessive Behavior.
It had been six days, three hours, and twenty-four minutes since the last time you saw one of your crewmates blink.
Which, admittedly, might not have been the smoking gun you were trying to make it into. Most of your conversations were spent with your eyes cast respectfully downward or held through comms, since they preferred not to acknowledge you directly whenever possible. Still, from the control bridge’s auxiliary seating, you had a pretty good view of their stiff, expressionless faces – the way their glassy eyes seemed to focus on nothing in particular as they carried out their respective roles with all the life and all the energy of clockwork dolls. Really, the fact that they’d asked you to join them on the bridge at all was a red flag. That wasn’t the way things were supposed to work. You were more of an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ issue.
And yet, here you were, sitting on a cheaply cushioned titanium bench as a dozen or so scientists sat in complete silence, toiling away at their various monitors with their various instruments. No one had spoken in the past ninety minutes. The last person to stand up had been the engineer, when she’d wordlessly brought the geologist another pen after his had run out of ink a few seconds prior. No one had anything to eat or drink save for the captain, who kept a thermos on the corner of his desk and took a long sip every six minutes exactly. You’d timed it. Somehow, that was worse than if none of them had done anything at all.
For your part, you stayed where you were, doing everything in your power not to move or breathe or think too loudly. You might’ve stayed like that for the remaining daylight hours, for as long as you had to until dismissed, if the pilot hadn’t spoken.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”
You startled, then snapped in her direction. The visuals were more-or-less right – her long hair pulled into a thick braid, the sleeves of her coveralls tied around her waist, all the little things you’d subconsciously come to expect after months of living in proximity to one another – but her tone was all wrong, far away and airy where you’d come to expect a certain edge, a directness. She also, notably, had not looked away from her monitor. The captain was the only one with his gaze directed upward, toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the bridge’s helm.
You took that as a sign to do the same. Admittedly, the view was beautiful. The sea floor stretched on as far as the eye could see, illuminated by spotlights and roaming underwater drones and what few rays of sunlight managed to dive this deep. When you strained your eyes, you could see the dull glow of bioluminescent animals emerging from the sea floor, always moving so slowly toward the surface, but they tended to keep their distance. The walls of the Mariana Trench sat snugly to either side, your stationary base nestled between them. Usually, you loved it – that feeling of being so totally enclosed, how simple the world felt when cast in shades of blue and green. Now, it just felt a little claustrophobic.
The geologist turned to you, dull eyes over wire-framed glasses, and you realized that you were supposed to answer. “I guess so.”
The captain nodded, pleased. You forced yourself to clear your throat and go on. “How did last week’s expedition go?”
The biologist straightened. He’d always struck you as the quiet type, only liable to respond when addressed directly. Today, though, he seemed more than capable of speaking for the group. “Oh, it was uneventful.”
And then, the engineer, her normally clipped voice melodic, as if finishing the biologist’s thought. “Nothing to report. Just the usual marine activity.”
It was a lie and it wasn’t even a good one. They should’ve corrected you the second you called it an expedition. In reality, the captain, the pilot, and the biologist had taken one of the submersibles on an unplanned voyage to an area worryingly close to your base that had been exhibiting readings no one could seem to make sense of, least of all you. As soon as they’d gotten back, the geologist and the engineer were called to the labs for some unspecified emergency. They’d locked themselves away for hours, not making a sound, only resurfacing once you gathered up the courage to knock. You’d been too shocked to do anything when they actually opened the door, when they invited you inside, when they showed you the deformed remains of a new specimen and tried to tide you over with explanations of unusual geological activity and pre-historic fossilization. The not-blinking had started around then, too.
“Huh,” you said, layering the nonchalance on thick. You pushed yourself to your feet, stretching your arms above your head. “Well, I—um, I better get going. Filters to check and all.”
Five heads snapped in your direction at the same time. Thankfully, your panic was limited to a pair of pressed lips and a small, mostly swallowed squeak. Only the captain actually spoke, his voice calm and his tone easy. Somehow, that made it worse. You would’ve preferred the chorus, discordant and unintelligible, to a lone mouthpiece. “You’re in such a rush to leave us. Did we do something wrong?”
“I have to do my job, sir.”
He hummed. “Make sure to report back when you’re done.” He paused, something like a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Your input is so very important to us, after all.”
You hated the way he said it, like he was fighting not to laugh. You hated the way the pilot was looking at you, now, head cocked and fingers drumming over her desk. You hated the way the geologist was moving, back too straight and limbs too stiff as he started to push himself out of his chair and—
Oh, fuck.
It was time to go.
You offered another dull excuse before slipping out of the bridge and back into the vessel proper. You knew where you were going – hell, you’d spent the last twenty weeks dreaming of the day you’d finally get to make this walk. Down the hall and past the communal spaces, then up through storage – carefully avoiding the labs on the same floor. The transport module (or, more realistically, the elevator shaft) had its own compartment, carefully sectioned off from the rest of the craft. It was only meant to be used twice: on the day you arrived and then again on the day you left, when you would be ferried up to the surface and granted the privilege of never having to think about life on the sea floor again. Only the captain knew the launch code, but there had to be a manual override. And hopefully, you’d spent enough of the past few months wrist-deep in the vessel’s wiring to figure out how to activate it.
You didn’t have time for delicacy. You’d barely stopped moving before you were dropping to your knees in front of the access panel and prying the interface out of its casing. It came away easily, and then you were digging through wires and ports, searching for something to connect, something to pull free, something that would get you out of this godforsaken pit at the—
There weren’t footsteps, or voices, or any warnings you might’ve heard over the sound of your own racing pulse. There was only a hand on your shoulder, another around your wrist – gently easing you away from the open panel.
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” A voice, simultaneously painfully familiar and altogether alien, sighed in your ear. Your captain. Or, what used to be your captain, at least.
You weren’t sure you ought to be calling him that, anymore.
And, judging by how softly he spoke as he went on, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“I think it’s about time we met properly. Don’t you agree?”
~
The captain, as you’d known him, was a man just south of middle age with white streaks in his startlingly dark hair, crows’ feet carved into the corners of his eyes, and a scar across the left side of his mouth that he would joke was from biting down on a fishhook in college. At least, you’d assumed he was joking.
You guessed you’d never get the chance to ask, now.
He was also gigantic – taller than most sailors with the physique to match. Even seated, he seemed to dwarf his surroundings, to leave you frail and minimized on the other side of the table. He’d wanted to do this in his office, but you’d insisted on the canteen. At the time, it seemed like neutral territory, somewhere wide and open with plenty of space to breathe. Now, you could only lament not pushing for someplace more closed-in. At least, if you were cornered, you wouldn’t have to keep glancing over your shoulder.
It didn’t help that the engineer was posted by the doors, back to the wall and her unblinking stare focused on you. The captain tilted his head to the side apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’ve only just gotten used to having so many eyes.”
“Eyes you stole from my friends.”
“These people weren’t your friends.” Pity dripped from his voice, honeyed and thick. You squared your shoulders. “This one, maybe, but not the rest. They saw you as—What’s the word?”
“A janitor?”
“Oh, dearest, not even that.” He paused, smiled. The expression looked wrong, like he was manually calculating how far to strain his lips. “A criminal.”
You inhaled slowly, holding your breath for a moment before letting it out again. The sting was present, but manageable. You’d known that. You must’ve known that, even when you first volunteered for this. There weren’t a lot of people willing to spend half a year of their life on the bottom of the ocean, and even fewer who would spend that half-year doing laundry, sweeping floors, and changing lightbulbs. But it was better than jail. This way, you could pretend you’d chosen to be here.
“Not to worry!” He clapped his hands together. “They won’t be saying much of anything, anymore. And the names I call you won’t nearly as cruel.”
“They weren’t—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “What are you?”
“You can see that for yourself. I’m sitting right in front of you, love.”
“No, I mean—Where did you come from?”
“You call this the… Pacific Ocean, don’t you?”
You shot to your feet, slamming your palms into the tabletop. “Why are you doing this?”
He glanced over you, then met your eyes. “That would’ve been a question for your coworkers. They were the ones who dug me up.”
You fell back into your seat, huffing. This was getting you nowhere slowly. The captain – the monster – seemed to feel the same way.
“You don’t seem very scared.”
“I don’t have to be. If you could do—” You gestured vaguely to the engineer, still lurking in your peripheral. “—that to me, you would’ve.”
“Would I, now?”
You opened your mouth, but stopped short of spitting anything out. It felt like a dial being turned, a switch being flipped. There was nothing, and then, there was everything.
In an instant, it was all too much. A hundred thousand voices in the back of your mind, chanting the same hymn at their own tempo. A hundred thousand images flashing across your vision, each stolen from a new set of eyes. You tried to focus on something else, to feel the cool wood under your hands, but even that sensation soon blurred into a million others until you couldn’t tell what belonged to you and what belonged to another body, another mind. You were being pulled downstream and the current was using your arms and legs against you. You were listening to the loveliest song you’d ever heard and you couldn’t seem to open your mouth and—
And the music stopped as you fell back into your own body, as you blinked away other perspectives and heaved air into your own aching lungs. You were on the floor, splayed across the tile. There was saliva at the corner of your mouth, and more concerningly, the captain was kneeling over you, his thumb stroking your cheek.
“Do we understand each other?”
You forced yourself to swallow. Your voice came out hoarse, dry. “Get away from me.”
“I can try, but it’s a small craft.”
“Then let me leave.”
His thumb settled, then slipped lower. “You know, there are so many things I’ve always wanted to try.” He cupped your chin, stifling a laugh. “With someone who isn’t myself, I mean.”
Disgust tore you through you, curdled and vicious. You brushed him off and scrambled to your feet, stumbling past the engineer and out into the hall. The captain joined her in the doorway, but only watched on as you did your best to get away.
~
The weeks following your conversation passed slowly, cold honey through a tight bottleneck.
The assigned date of your designated departure came and meant. It was quickly made clear that you weren’t allowed anywhere near the transport module. Someone, usually the geologist, always seemed to be posted outside, just waiting for you to try your luck again. For the first few days, the engineer also followed you in-person, but that wasn’t a permanent feature. You couldn’t get into much trouble nearly seven miles below sea level, and whatever project your captor was working on seemed to be an all-hands-on-deck situation. It had something to do with excavation, but how far it fell outside of the vessel’s expected field of research was lost on you. Still, you were thankful they were distracted. It seemed to be enough to know that, no matter how much distance you tried to maintain, you’d always be within arm’s reach.
You spent most of your time hiding. It felt a little childish, honestly. Not very long ago, you would’ve gladly done anything if it meant never feeling alone again, and now you were locking yourself in your bunk, tracking movement patterns on security cameras, pressing your ear to every door before you opened it and praying that there wouldn’t be footsteps or voices on the other side. Your contract was only for half a year, but you had enough food and fresh water to last five times that, meaning that entertainment was going to be more of an issue than survival. You ransacked the others’ rooms, stealing books and card decks and gaming consoles, anything that might help pass the time. And, at night, when the isolation was almost too much to bear, you fled to the atrium.
It was a large, open space on the vessel’s uppermost floor, which was otherwise reserved for vehicle bays and tool storage. The ceiling was high, domed, and entirely transparent, and even before something took over your crewmates and everything went to shit, you liked to lie in the center of the room and watch the dark water ebb and flow. Now, you tried to keep your visits brief, to leave before anyone had the chance to join you. You’d only slipped up once. A swarm of bioluminescent jellyfish was passing over your vessel in the small hours of the morning, and you must’ve lost track of time. A storm of gold and crimson lights was still gently bobbing past when he joined you.
They were all limbs of the same creature, but the captain seemed to be the designated face. He settled next to you, legs crossed and head bowed. You stiffened, got ready to bolt, but he only laughed, waving off your skittishness. “You’ve been avoiding us.”
You swallowed. “…should I not be?”
The way you said it, muted and questioning, must’ve given away your paranoia. The captain shook his head. “There’s no need to worry. If I wanted to keep you on a shorter leash, I could.”
Great. Perfect, actually. He thought he was being nice.
“I have something for you.” He never looked away, but the sound of clipped footsteps drew your attention to the doorway. The biologist, uncanny smile plastered over his face and a small, silver tray in his hands. “A gift. To celebrate our three-month anniversary.”
The biologist stopped in front of you, and you recognized what you’d desperately been trying not to. A perfectly round, perfectly generic cupcake, the icing only a little smudged. Your stomach dropped. Perishable food was hard to get down here, even harder to keep fresh. There was one for every member of the crew, and they were supposed to be saved for birthdays – a little piece of home to keep you all sane, in theory. Anyone taking more than their share would mean there wasn’t enough to go around, which meant someone would be angry, which meant someone would be angry with you and—
And you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look at the biologist’s grinning face.
You guessed you didn’t need to worry about that, anymore.
Still, the idea of choking down freeze-dried cake was enough to make your stomach turn over. “I’m sorry, I—” You pushed yourself to your feet quickly enough to make your head spin. The captain followed you up, catching your arm when your balance threatened to give out. “I really can’t do this, right now.”
“Of course. You must be tired.” The biologist was already leaving. “Let me walk you back to your room.”
It wasn’t a question, but you shook your head regardless. “I’m alright, just a little—”
“I insist.” His hand slipped from your arm to your upper back. “Unless you’d prefer the captain’s quarters?”
“No.” Bile rose into the back of your throat. The repulsion was instinctual, the rejection reflexive. “Please, no.”
“How you break my heart, love.”
This time, his hand slipped down to yours, squeezing gently. You should’ve just taken the fucking cupcake.
“It’s a good thing I have spares.”
~
Four months. That was how long you made it post-invasion, trying to live every moment as if you were under constant observation, ignoring every base human urge that might’ve been at odds with your all-seeing captor. Sixteen weeks. One hundred and twenty days. People had cracked under much more banal forms of torture in much less time.
And, in your defense, you had the foresight to take precautions. An especially busy day that saw all useful members of your crew posted at their stations. An unused wing of the medical bay rather than your own room. An allotted fifteen minutes to do what you could. You figured, failing everything, you could be proud of yourself for giving it your all. Admittedly, you hadn’t spent much time thinking about worst-case scenarios.
This was definitely worst-case.
The pilot stood on the threshold of the medical bay, the door hanging open behind her. Heat flooded your face, your cheeks, and you made a valiant effort to pull your hand out of your pants and wrestle your coveralls back up to your waist – as if that’d do anything to undo the damage. She waited until you were (mostly) redressed and scrambling off of the cot before edging forward, careful to keep her body between you and the door. That was fine. You were too mortified to so much as think about going much of anywhere.
“It’s a—a human thing,” you rushed to explain, as if it made this any better. As if it would get her to stop staring at you like that. “To blow off steam, and kill—”
You tried to step around her. An arm lashed out to stop you, barring any hope of retreat to your left. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. “I’d like to go back to my room. Please.”
The pilot didn’t respond. Her attention flicked downward once before returning to your face and refusing to let go, pinning you under the weight of her wide-eyed gaze. You were stuck there, trapped and immobile, as her free hand found your collar, then drifted south, lean fingers grazing over your collarbones, your midriff. Finally, she dipped below the waistband of your coveralls, dragging her two fingers over the seat of your panties. The material was still disheveled, too flimsy to provide any real sense of comfort. Her thumb caught on your clit and—
“Please,” you gasped, surprising yourself. She didn’t seem fazed. “Stop touching me.”
A second passed, then another. When she eventually did draw back, it was with an airy sigh, the smallest quirk of a frown tugging at her lips. “Fine.”
You waited for her to pull away entirely, to lose interest and return to the bridge with the rest of the crew – not totally unlike the previous inhabitant of her body had, on the rare occasion she was forced to speak to you. Instead, her hand curled around your wrist, blunt nails pressing into your skin as she tugged toward the door. You half-expected her to take you a little too literally, to drag you back to your bunk and lock you inside, but she passed the rooming area entirely, taking you down the hall toward the captain’s quarters. Your heart seized up inside your chest, but you tried not to let the panic seep into your voice. “Where are we going?”
“To do different human things.” And then, more cheerfully, “You’ll like it.”
You doubted that, but her pace was steady and her grip was unwavering. It didn’t seem like she planned on giving you another choice.
The engineer was already waiting by the door. She followed you and the pilot in, keeping close in case you tried to bolt. You were given all of a second to take in the massive, king-sized bed before being mercifully pulled in another direction, into the en-suite. The engineer must’ve worked quickly. The shallow tub (an Olympic pool compared to the shoulder-width shower stalls in the communal bathrooms) was already full, steam still rolling off the water’s surface. A body scrub and matching oil sat on the low wall, neither used. You did your best not to wonder who’d brought them.
You looked to the pilot, then the engineer, who both watched expectantly. It took an embarrassingly long moment to realize they were waiting on you. “Oh, I’m supposed to…?”
You nodded to the tub. The pilot’s smile turned sympathetic. “Before the water gets cold, yes.”
The engineer chimed in, “You have taken a bath before, haven’t you?”
“Shut up.” And just like that, more out of spite than anything, you were wriggling out of your uniform. Your clothes formed a wrinkled heap where you let them drop, each layer leaving you that much more exposed, that much more desperate to crawl back inside of something thick and warm and protective. Covering yourself would’ve been an admission of defeat, so you kept your arms stiffly at your sides as you stepped into the tub. The scalding water burnt at your numb skin. You hadn’t realized how cold you’d been until you started to thaw.
Surprisingly, they didn’t join you. The engineer perched herself on the basin’s wall while the pilot leaned against the vanity, taking in the view. You pulled your knees up to your chest, but it was clear you were being overprotective. The engineer only hummed as she cupped the water in her hands and poured over your head, soaking your hair, your face. It reminded you of something else, something sacred. You had to hold your breath, but that part was holy, too.
The engineer’s hands found your shoulders, massaging gently. The words caught in your throat and snagged on your lips, but you spit them out regardless. It would’ve been more painful to let the silence sit. “Is this your idea of what humans do? Or did you just want to embarrass me?”
“Partially,” the pilot answered. You chose not to wonder which question she was responding to. “My other reasons are much more selfish.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s a little silly.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought she sounded shy. “I wanted to see what it was like to take care of something else.”
Oh.
You sank that much deeper. The engineer’s hands followed you down, never leaving your skin for a moment.
You’d never noticed how cold she felt, before.
~
“I really didn’t mean to.”
The biologist hummed. He was sitting at your feet, leaning against the wall next to your cubby of a bed. He’d brought tea, the mugs mismatched and the contents still hot enough to steam. You were determined to let yours go cold, and he seemed happy enough to run his thumb over the ceramic rim, soaking in the warmth as it seeped out.
“You did an awfully thorough job.”
“I didn’t—” You stopped yourself, sucking in a deep breath and pressing your cheek into your stiff pillow. Behind you, the geologist shifted, slotting his chest against your back and draping an arm over your waist. Your captor had become increasingly more interested in that type of thing, recently – touchy, sentimental, human. You would’ve liked to say that they wore you down, but honestly, you hadn’t put up much of a fight to begin with. “It was self-defense.”
“You didn’t call the police.”
“I was going to, but there was so much blood, and—and then they were already outside, banging on the door. Anyone would’ve frozen up.” You let your voice get very, very quiet. “He kept me in that apartment for sixty days. Two months. What was I supposed to do? Go outside and make small talk with the neighbors?”
“And the trial?”
“I wasn’t allowed to talk at the trial, the lawyers—” Again, you cut yourself off. “And you already know this. You’ve been in my head.”
The geologist’s forehead settled against the back of your neck as the biologist spoke. “I like the view better out here.”
“You’re so creepy,” you huffed. “It’s just, if this is hell, or some stupid karmic punishment you’re all in on, then—”
“You don’t think I’m real?” He almost sounded offended.
“I don’t think you deserve to keep me here.” There wasn’t a point in answering. Whatever was happening to you, it was real enough. “I’ve got family waiting for me to come back.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Fine. I have friends. People who are going to miss me.”
The biologist sent you a skeptical glance. You bit down hard on the side of your tongue.
“You can’t keep me here forever.”
The geologist’s hold on you tightened abruptly, crushing your ribs into your lungs before going slack just as quickly. “Not forever,” the biologist mused. “How long do you think the oxygen recyclers will hold out?”
This time, you didn’t bother responding at all. The geologist seemed content to draw you that much closer, and the biologist was more than happy to sit at a distance and watch.
~
You found the captain on the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the glass wall. The room was dim, the overheads switched off in favor of the softened blue of the emergency lights. No one else was there, his spare sets of eyes scattered to different parts of the vessel. It looked like he’d been waiting for you.
The jellyfish were passing through again, too. The swarm was dense and close, the view all-but completely obscured by bobbing golden lights, casting the bridge in a ruddy bronze. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought you were on another planet.
…you did know better, and the thought still lingered longer than it should’ve.
You sat down next to him, legs bent in front of you. It was uncomfortable, but that didn’t matter. You doubted you’d be staying in this position for very long.
“If I—” The words burnt like acid on your tongue. You rushed to find a less corrosive replacement. “If I do what you want me to, I can leave, right?”
“I don’t remember saying that.” His voice was lilting, tone playful.
“Then say it now.” You huddled into yourself. “I need to get out of here, and this is the only time I’m going to ask nicely.”
“I don’t seem to recall you ever being particularly nice, either.”
Something shifted out of place deep in your chest. You moved to stand, but he laid a hand over yours, laughing. “Sorry, sorry. I should know better. I know what it’s like to be trapped somewhere very, very small for a very, very long time.” He lowered his voice. “Let me have this. You’ll get what you want out of it, too.”
“Just this once?”
“Just this once. Then, I’ll take you back to the surface.”
You didn’t want to. No part of you wanted to give anything to the monster that’d held you captive for over a year, but you needed fresh air in your lungs. You needed to see another person, someone who didn’t look at you like something to cut open and dissect.
This didn’t seem like a lot to give up, in comparison.
You nodded, and his hands were on your hips immediately. He hauled you into his lap, and then you were straddling him, your legs clumsily thrown around his waist and your chest pressed into his. There was no pretense of reluctance, just his mouth on your neck and his fingers working at the buttons of your uniform, haphazardly pulling and dragging until fabric slackened and you felt cold air wash over newly exposed skin. This close, he should’ve been enough to warm you up, but even that small comfort rang hollow. His body was malleable stone against yours – willing to give, but so undeniably lifeless below the surface.
A calloused hand cupped your breast, groping harshly. A pained hiss slipped through your grit teeth, and his head tilted back, wide eyes meeting yours. “Can I kiss you?”
“Would it matter if I said no?”
“Of course.” His smile had turned simpering. “I would cherish any reaction you showed me.”
That didn’t mean he would listen, though.
His lips were chapped and tender against yours. There was nothing romantic about the way he kissed you, just a heady sort of affection and a curiosity that made him lap over your tongue and push into the hollow of your cheeks like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. At the same time, his thumb swiped over your nipple, fingertips biting into the plush flesh of your chest. It was almost a relief when he moved on, his touch skirting over your midriff, your navel, your stomach before settling just above the waistband of your panties. You wished you hadn’t worn them at all, in hindsight. Anything to save yourself the stabbing agony of realizing he would have to take them off of you.
Not that he seemed to be in a rush to. The pad of his thumb dragged over your clothed slit, mapping the terrain, before pulling back and pressing into your clit. His mouth fell to your throat, sucking harsh bruises into your skin as he traced mindless patterns into the most sensitive part of you. It was humiliating – how quickly your deprived boy gave in to the first hint of stimulation you’d gotten in the better part of a year. You could feel yourself getting hotter, getting wetter, the seat of your panties soon uncomfortably damp. You felt the captain’s grin against your jugular and clenched your eyes shut.
His touch was sickeningly exploratory. Your panties were pulled to the side, two thick fingers eased inside of you. Even that was too much of a stretch after surviving so long on nothing at all. You buried your face in his chest as he rocked his palm against your cunt, doing your best to keep your teeth planted in the flesh of your cheek, your nails burrowed into the back of his neck. It was unfair – he was still dressed while you were being split in half. He was going to get what he wanted and you’d be the one to suffer for it.
A third finger, added while the heel of his palm ground against your clit. You jerked forward, a strangled moan escaping before you had a chance to swallow it down, and the captain cooed in sympathy. “That’s it, love.” He pressed a kiss into your temple. “I’m only trying to make what comes next a little easier.”
“I—” He curled his fingers and you sucked in a shallow breath. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Yes, you do.”
God, you hated him.
“No, you don’t.” There was another kiss, this one to the corner of your mouth. You were beyond caring where he touched you, how he touched you. Minutes too soon, you could feel a steady pulse playing in the pit of your stomach, a tightness in your chest that wasn’t entirely due to burning hatred. You felt his tongue against the side of your neck, following the curve of your throat once, then twice before biting down – teeth sinking into skin too fluidly, too easily. It took you a second to decide why it felt so unnatural beyond the initial shock, but not much longer.
He hadn’t hesitated. Not the way he should have, when he knew what he was doing to you might hurt. Not the way anything human would have.
He stayed there, latched onto you and sucking gently, as what was left of your self-control eroded and fell away entirely. Your hips bucked against his hand, the movement jolting and involuntary, and then you were moving on your own, working to fuck his fingers that much deeper, to make up for that many more days of your third and final stay in prolonged captivity. When he raised his head, it was only to chuckle, to nuzzle against you, to pay more attention to the angle of his wrist, to how exactly he nudged you closer and closer and closer to the ledge. “So beautiful,” he whispered, mouth close enough to your ear for his voice to echo in your mind. “I could keep you like this forever.”
You made a mewling, pained noise, cut off abruptly as your body went rigid against his. He led you through the worst of it, pace slowing as he drew out every little clench and tremor, but his patience was clearly thin and his attention clearly elsewhere. You felt him shift underneath you, and then your body was being lowered to the floor by too many pairs of hands. You didn’t realize that you’d shut your eyes until you had to force them open, until you saw the pilot’s smiling face above you, her unblinking stare fixed on your face.
Dread and embarrassment and panic flared in your chest, driving spikes into your heart, your lungs, your throat. “I don’t want other people to—”
“They won’t.” His hands were already pulling at your uniform, dragging it off. Your panties were stripped away just as quickly, just as heartlessly. You tried to grab for his wrists, but the pilot was faster, catching yours instead and drawing them above your head. “It’s just us. It’s only ever been us.”
But it wasn’t, not really, not in the way that matters. You could see the others in your peripheral, made shadowed and faceless by your refusal to look closer. It was almost a mercy when the pilot ducked, lowering her head to your chest and latching onto your breast, reminding you that there were worse things in the world than unwanted voyeurs – worse things you were currently experiencing, in fact. The captain’s hands found your sides, then your hips, pinning you to the floor as he settled between your legs. You whimpered, sobbed, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of rustling fabric and hitched breathes, to distract you from the feeling of something hot and blunt pressing into you pussy.
He hesitated there – the pilot, too, her tongue going still where it was lapping over your nipple. “I love you,” he said, nearly under his breath. “And I wish this wasn’t the only way to make you understand that without getting rid of the you.”
You didn’t know what he was talking about. You didn’t have time to figure it out, either.
He was already inside of you.
Big. He was too fucking big. For the first time, you genuinely resented – sincerely, deeply, searingly resented – that the captain had been chosen as the dominant mouthpiece, rather than one of your much more moderately sized crewmates. It felt like you were being torn open from the inside out, his thick cock splitting your cunt in half, jagged veins and liquid heat arousal only making it more overwhelming. Your legs snapped closed around his waist, hips bucking against his hold, but the captain didn’t seem to notice. He buckled, head falling low as he caught himself with a palm planted next to your head. The pilot moaned against your skin.
Long, agonizing moments passed before he started to move. You became terrifyingly aware there was still more of him that he was trying to ease into you. His thrusts were short and slow, every inch another way to make you squirm and clench. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. If you cried, if you struggled, if you went limp – that wasn’t your fault. You were only doing what you had to.
Finally, finally, you felt him bottom out, his hips pressing into yours. There was an airy grunt, another less dignified noise, and then he fell into a steady pattern of grinding down and pulling back and thrusting in with enough strength to force the air out of your lungs, to make your back arch off of the unforgiving cement. Your hands grabbed for his shoulders instinctively, and he let you, falling that much closer. The pilot retreated, but only far enough to pull your head into her lap. Touching wasn’t the priority. She and the others were just there to observe.
His cock twitched inside of you. There was no cursing, no unconscious reactions, but his hold on you tightened and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath cold and wrong against your skin. “I’m sorry, I don’t—” A rough groan, a stilted thrust. “I don’t want to, but—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish. It was already happening.
It wasn’t like the first time. That day, it’d been deliberate, a calculated plunge into the middle of a very large, very cold body of water. This time, his influence came in fragments, pulling you into the river but giving your mind a chance to cling to the shore. You could feel the ground against your back as you blinked through a hundred million sets of eyes, and you were aware of the pressure in your core as that pulsing, heartbeat choir overwhelmed anything else you might’ve heard. There was water in your lungs, but at least you still knew which lungs were yours.
Your orgasm came in waves, flooding in from multiple perspectives. There was your pleasure, strained and confused, and then his, tender and so loving and filling you to the brim. That was enough to bring you back to yourself, although there wasn’t anything you could do to mitigate the damage. His hips were pressed flush against yours, his hands clamped tight enough around you to bruise, excess cum dripping down your thighs, the curve of your ass. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed like that – a second, a minute, an hour. It didn’t matter. It was all an eternity to you.
Eventually, he seemed to catch himself, straightening with a slight laugh. “How embarrassing. I—” He cut himself off, smiling. “Next time. I’ll be more considerate, next time.”
Your only response was a low, disgruntled whine. Sympathy softened the corners of his expression. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”
“And then—”Your voice gave out immediately, dissolving into a coughing fit. The pilot rubbed the back of your neck. “Then the surface, right?”
“Of course, love.” The words might’ve been more comforting if it hadn’t been for the way he looked at you. “And then, the surface.”
~
Half an hour later, you found yourself slumped against the captain’s side in the transport module, still not quite able to rely on your own legs. Both the elevator walls and its shaft were entirely made out of glass, but even as you ascended out of the abyssal darkness, through the brightening twilight and back into the more hospitable sunlight zones, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to enjoy the view. A few stray jellyfish from the previous swarm were still bobbing diligently toward the surface. You tried half-heartedly to name the species, but nothing came to mind. You’d had a tense conversation with the captain (the real captain) early on about deep-sea life, but he didn’t seem to think you’d run into anything more interesting than—
You straightened abruptly. The captain hummed, holding that much tighter. “Is something wrong?”
“There aren’t supposed to be jellyfish this deep. Not in a group this size.”
“So there aren’t.”
You hesitated, then tried another angle. “Whatever you’re doing down there, is it—”
“The work will carry on, but the worst of it is over.” He squeezed your side. “You’ll understand, soon.”
Neither of you spoke for the rest of the ascent. There was a brief depressurization, and then the doors opened into the sterile, chromatic control bay you only vaguely remembered from the day you were sent down. You let go of the captain, rushing forward. You were going to get out of here. You were going to breathe fresh air and feel the sunlight and talk to someone else, anyone else. You were going to kiss the first person you saw. You were going to—
You made it one glorious, euphoric step outside of the module, then came to a stuttering halt. A half-ring of strangers stood perfectly still in front of you, a mix of scientists and engineers and operators you wouldn’t know if you recognized. Any familiar traits, any human spark – all of it was made alien by identical, calculated smiles and those unblinking, unfeeling, unthinking eyes. You were tempted to rush to the closest window, to hope beyond hope that this hadn't spread any farther than the facility, but you smothered the urge quickly. You already knew what you were going to find.
The captain stepped behind you. “You can go on running, if you’d like,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have problem catching up.”
“But, it can’t be—”
“It is.” He laughed, the noise bright and giddy. For once, it sounded natural.
A/N: Hello! Its been a while since I last posted, I hope none of you counted on me, but I don't think my work is good enough for that. This is a much shorter piece just stuffed with fluff. This is probably what I will be doing in the future for asks, should anything actually come my way, it inspires me much more than anything else. Also, I have a longer one coming up, just in the final phases of tune up, and it is a brand new character.
Valeria, while her role as empress was handed to her by her mother, and her mother before that, had fought tooth and nail to secure her nation into what it is now. She was generally liked by her people, and known for her impressive patience and unflinching demeanor of cold elegance by foreign dignitaries. That is why, when her spouse ends up catching something from one of her maids, her reaction is completely unprecedented.
“Are you comfortable, dear?” She asked, a twinge of anxiety in her voice, “If you need anything, please let me know. I will not allow you to suffer for my convenience.” She watched you from across the room, Valeria wanted to come over to your side, to share in your sickness and sympathize with you. While she needed no excuse to cuddle up to you all day, she preferred to have one.
‘If you are content, I shall be here, darling. While I would love to spend time with you, my station demands that I remain in good health.” You try to explain to her that it isnt that bad. While initially, it was a significant nuisance, your partner's overreaction made you second guess your own assessment. It was just a cold, maybe. You weren’t sure what it was, but the endless line of confused and irritated expressions on the faces of the doctors and healers that visited made you aware that it wasn't serious by any means.
It was just an offhanded remark that kicked it off, a mention of not feeling well that set your spouse into panic. “You are unwell? Why wasn't I informed? If my beloved is ever even the slightest bit out of sorts, I should be the first one to know.” She proclaimed. “How long has this been affecting you, beloved?” She spoke with an unusual emotion behind her words, a slip up that she had thought she ironed out decades ago, but was common when it came to your safety.
You lied, knowing enough about your captor to know how to minimize her damage. You said it had been quite recent, with it just starting yesterday. This did little to put her at ease. “I cannot sit idle as my beloved suffers for someone else's negligence. I will see to it that you are properly cared for, as for whichever bastard brought this upon you, I-” You cut her off with a stern no, not wanting to have anyone killed for your sake. For a moment, Valeria glared at you for daring to challenge her will. Her resistance was broken when you let out a slightly exaggerated cough, her maternal drive outweighing her dominance.
“Dear, please rest. You must save your strength. Since you are in such a feeble state, I will not kill the rat that poisoned my spouse… I cannot say that negligence charges are off the table, at the very least, some restructuring is in order.” She said. You feel a bit of tension in your shoulders loosen. You knew that no amount of screaming or pleading could keep someone from the gallows if she wished for it, but you hoped she would listen this time.
You could hear the doctor trying to explain it to her in the other room, “We have the results back, your majesty, I will assure you once again, it really is just a common cold.” Valeria replied impatiently, stating: “I don't care what it is, I want it gone. Is that not possible for you, doctor. If it is so benign, then why have you not cured it already?” The doctor paused, taken aback by her snapping at him. He responded cautiously. “We typically focus on treating more serious medical conditions, While I do have some things that might make it less inconvenient, the most effective cure is to simply let it run its course.” You knew what was about to happen, Valeria's temper had been all too thin lately, and her snapping was an outcome you knew would arrive. “So, you can't do anything? Was the trust I placed in you misplaced, doctor? Our universities are the best of the best, surely they would tell you something about how to treat a common cold.” You intervened then, opening the door, as if you hadn't been eavesdropping on the two. “How are you, beloved? Is there something you need? Please minimize your movement, you must be resting…” Valeria said. You made up some reason for her, and the doctor gave you a thankful nod before leaving.
She was sitting at her desk now, scribbling down things on a notepad as she signed and marked documents and papers and bills. Every few minutes, she would look up, and the scowl etched into her face would be replaced with an expression of deep longing. “Is there anything I can do for you, darling, do you need more soup? Another glass of water?” Her intentions were painfully clear, she wanted to spend more time with you.
“Well, that's quite enough of that.” She said, setting down her pen neatly on the mahogany desk. She walked briskly over to you, before sitting on the bed beside you. Valeria wrapped around you possessively, uncaring of your illness which she was so worried about previously. You reminded her of this, “I have made up my mind, darling. If nations and laws cannot keep me from my darling, then a cold should be no exception. If we have to spend the next two weeks bedridden, then so be it. I have cleared the schedule. If you recover, I'll just have to keep you here just to make sure it doesn't come back. Now kiss me. I have been denied this for far too long.” You reluctantly obey, knowing the punishment for disobedience, something tells you the next two weeks would not be so bad…
Warnings: mentions of wanting to kill, yandere, jealousy, obsession
Dear diary, I want to kill and you have to believe it's more than just selfish reasons. I don't know what else to do. I respect everyone, why can't they respect me? Why does no one think that my relationship is serious? I love Y/N more than anything else in this entire world! Am I the only one seeing that? Certainly not, right?
Someone tried to approach them today in the cafeteria. I could see in an instant that he had no good intentions. I've tried to get Y/N to ditch the grotesque cafeteria food, but they won't hear me out … I can't for the life of me understand why. I've told them that I can get my chef to make lunchboxes for us both, but they squirm when I'm trying. I think it's because of what others will think. Y/N wants to blend in and not stand out. Being with me only complicates that. They told me once that if they would start eating food from my house, they'd stand out even more — people might even think they're a gold digger, that they're using me. I know Y/N, I know they're not. Why do they have to care what others think so badly?
Anyways, this person who talked to my love finally admitted his defeat when Y/N told him to go away. I hugged their arm and they told me that it was okay. They could sense that I got uncomfortable. Bless their wonderful soul. But it wasn't okay. How could anything be okay when someone had just tried to steal my partner in front of me?! As if it didn't even matter?!
I tried not to sulk for the rest of the day, but there was a nagging feeling that I couldn't shake off. Although that person had stepped away, the audacity of them to ask in the first place made me furious and I knew that I wouldn't be able to relax as long as they were around. As long as they breathe. It still makes my blood boil writing now.
"Can I do something to cheer you up?" Y/N asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
Y/N? Do something wrong? How could they ever think such nonsense?! I could tell how worried they were and I instantly felt bad that my horrible mood spilled over to them — to the point where they had started blaming themselves. I kissed them and I hope that was enough to reassure them that they were the most non-wrong thing in my life. Plus, I bought them a juice box from the vending machine to make them happy. They did smile a bit afterwards ♡
Y/N is sleeping right now. They look so sweet, I wish I could keep this moment forever. I've taken countless photos … but I want more. Photos and videos aren't enough. I want to freeze this time and stay here forever. I want to be this moment, as crazy as it may sound. I'm going to bed soon too, but I had to get this out of me or else I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I've never been so furious before. I've never wanted to kill before. I've never liked horror or gore of any kind, but when it comes to Y/N … then it just feels like the only solution. I don't want anyone to look at them the way I do. I don't like it when others capture their precious time. It makes my skin crawl.
I'm going to put down the pen and join my dearest. I’m exhausted after this stressful day. I’m going to ask Y/N if they want to go to the spa tomorrow to relax.
Today is the first time he’s seen you cry. A failed job interview, it looks like. As you collect yourself, you move through the house.
He follows.
The reflection in the hallway shows a wrinkled dress shirt that’s half way out of your pants and stiff blazer on top of it. Entering your room, you dump your things onto your bed. He can see you better from here. Your brow is furrowed, and within moments, you break.
You helplessly throw your head into your hands, sniffles turning into sobs.
Oh, you poor thing.
Defeated, you climb into bed without bothering to change. It’s only afternoon, but it looks like you’ve given up for the day.
That’s alright. He understands.
As you drift into a dreamless sleep, you don’t notice how the invisible palm on the other side of the mirror seems to absorb the harsh sunlight. Of course you don’t, not when your unconscious body is cool and your shut eyes escape the sun’s glare.
You wake up the next day, yesterday’s failures on the back burner.
He follows you through the mirrors. The one in your bedroom, where you prepare yourself for the day ahead each morning. The one on your desk, which you zone out into when you’re distracted while working. The one in the hallway, where your exhausted form slouches into the house after another day spent at work or school. And the one in the bathroom, where you’re at your most vulnerable.
That traitorous, treacherous mirror. He stares as you dry yourself off with a towel after a hot shower. He makes out bits and pieces of your face, and the silhouette of your figure coloured with the lively tint of your skin. The fog, however, hides the most delicious and intimate parts of your body. Part of him wants to get rid of it. But he won’t. He can’t see you, not like this. He’d rather have you aching for his attention.
Still, it seems unfair that he gets to have all the fun. Maybe some other day, when you’re unfathomably weary, when you feel numb beyond saving, he’ll let you see what’s on the other side.
He’ll show you how good it feels to have some company.
Can you please write another part for The Empress? I absolutely love this story ❤️❤️
Fuck yeah I can.
Killing Time
Empress Valeria Volo / GN reader
A/N: Finally got this done! Took forever, mainly because of a few relapses into chat bots and generally getting distracted. This one is different from the others, in that the reader isnt actively hating their situation. This takes place some time after the kidnapping, and there's is a bit of Stockholm Syndrome. The fic is a bit on the fluffier side, but I like it. If you want more, please let me know, otherwise, I have a few other ideas I want to write for. Dont worry, I'm not abandoning Valeria!
CW: Unhealthy Relationship, Manipulation, Implied Violence, lots of jealousy.
Word Count: 2.9k (Long one here!)
Boredom is common under Valeria’s watch, the empress has to oversee her kingdom, after all. But under all her armor and poise, emotions still exist, this you are certain. So when she catches you talking with one of her servants, the worst ones bubble to the surface…
By far the worst thing in your new life was boredom. Danger was an inherent axiom for a good life, everything you did could be classified as a risk, whether to you or her.You had come to this conclusion some time ago, as your time was no longer subject to your whims, being at the mercy of a cruel dictator instead. Writing was off limits, if you had something to say, she would much rather hear it personally from your lips. Reading was iffy at best, Valeria insisted on checking all of the content you read, so you would often end up grabbing something off her shelf, safe to say that none of the content she read helped whatsoever with your boredom.
There was one silver lining however, if she was in a particularly good mood, she would schedule a performance. A play or a musical or an epic of some kind, those were the best. And you had learned to love them, as a starving man would love any food he found, regardless of the taste. This was one of those performances, it was a rendition of some foreign scriptwriter’s masterpiece. You had seen enough artists come and enter the theatre doors to not pay attention to the names. It was a marvelous show, and the actors played their parts to the letter, their monologues emotional and heart wrenching, and the climax carrying an urgency that you felt from the back of the theatre where you lay on Valeria's lap. There was one actor that stole the show, however. A plump woman, somewhere into her thirties, although she carried herself with a confidence that would make any nobleman jealous, and an exaggeration that would make a strawman double take.
Your admiration was purely professional, you held no interest in her romantically, whether that was for her safety or your own preferences. But watching the performance upon the theatre stage put you in a similar state, utterly enraptured. You were confident that they couldn’t see your adoration, but you underestimated your lover whose lap they had insisted you sit upon. “Enjoying the show, my dear?” Her voice broke the trance like state that had befell you, causing you to blink in momentary confusion before responding. You might have come off as dismissive, although you were already on guard. Valeria tended to become rather tyrannical when you were involved, and you were more inclined to witness the troupe's performance on the stage as opposed to the scaffold or the gallows. “Good, your happiness is of utmost priority to me.” She responds, “Do know, however, that the scenes portrayed here are fiction. If you are regaled with these stories, than perhaps you would be better suited to listening to my exploits. I am very much willing to share.” She says with a hint of jealousy in her voice, you had learned that the best course of action in this situation is to console her, something you promptly did. Calming her down was relatively easy unless she was too upset for your words to help, which was quite rare.
Regardless, your Empress still knew of your admiration towards the actress, and would comment on her frequently, if only to have a shared interest between the two of you. Occasionally, her hand would reach for your chin, turning your head towards her and tilting it up. She would then gently lift the translucent red veil from your face until she could gaze into your eyes. Sometimes, she would speak, nothing of importance, but simple words of adoration. Usually she contented herself with simply gazing into your eyes, drinking up your attention ravenously.
The play was over soon enough, and the audience stood up to clap. You joined them, despite your lover's wishes. She remained seated, as you got back in her lap, she asked the question that started it all… “My dear, you seemed to enjoy that performance greatly. Tell me, would you like to see behind the stage? I can have you introduced to them if you would like.” Like? You would more than like it, you would love it, to meet the thespians behind what you just witnessed would be a dream! A dream that you would have never achieved if you hadn't the Empress of a Country as a lover. It took no more than a nod for you to be following her down to the stage. Normally, your anxiety and nervousness would have stopped you; but this time, you were hardly worried at all. It seems your kidnapping had brought some positive effects after all. Although you wouldn't dare ever let Valeria know about that.
The backstage was a buzz of activity, something you wouldn't predict looking at the motionless curtain hanging above the stage itself. People came and went, bringing and taking various props, already in preparation of the next performance. Members of the troupe, both actor and unseen stagehand, conversed and laughed with each other. The Empress was a quite unexpected visitor, making many of the members scramble to accommodate her. “You must forgive us, your majesty.” Spoke a troupemaster, “We had no knowledge of your arrival. If we did, we would have ensured this place was far tidier than you see it to be.” “It is quite alright,” Valeria responded, “We gave you very little in the way of warning of our arrival, so I don't expect anything more.”
You quickly tune out their conversation, wandering off. Valeria seldom gave you any freedom at all, and you were determined not to squander this opportunity.
You got along pretty well with the performers, who were relatively surprised to see you away from Valeria's side. They would occasionally shoot you glances, as if gauging how long until your deadly guardian would return. They weren't confident enough in their performances to risk the ire of the sovereign of a major nation. Although the actress you admired so earlier had no such qualms, greeting you with a confidence and belonging that few others had matched.
“Well, would you look at this, its not too often that we get an emperor-consort wandering around backstage, now is it?” She says, “Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
You explain that you were simply impressed by their performance and wanted to meet them yourself. A weight of tension visibly lifts from her, while you couldn't notice it previously, the difference seems obvious now. “Well, thank you. I must admit, I was worried we had done something wrong, your mistress has quite a reputation when it comes to you.” You nodded, while bringing up the spouse of royalty was a very risky decision, your forced partner has a reputation of being particularly explosive when you were nearby. It was to the point of nearly causing a war and a few diplomatic crisis’ with those allies who were unaware of this quirk. That is to say, you were aware of your lover's tendencies. You express this much to the actress.
Your conversation continues, bouncing between you and the actress rapidly, she never dominated the conversation, nor did she allow you to do so. This might perhaps be the reason why you spent almost half an hour chatting, and definitely the reason things panned out this way.
Around this point, if you were to return to where you entered the stage, you would see the amusing sight of an aged troupemaster desperately trying to distract and entertain the monarch of a major nation, and failing quite amusingly. The man struggles, trying to buy time until the empress finds you talking with that actress. Valeria is not amused, but keeps up her disposition of quiet sophistication and eloquence. “This is all quite amusing, sir.” She said, less of a lie and more a formality, but it was yet untrue. “Unfortunately, I do believe I have matters to attend to with my beloved. You wouldnt happen to know where he has wandered off to, would you?”
The troupemaster anxiously tries to strike a balance between helping and distracting. This proves to be futile, as Valeria brushes off the man and heads to look for you herself. It doesn't take her long to locate you, as the backstage is consistent of a very small amount of what could actually be called rooms. If you had been just a bit more careful, a bit more awkward, this would never have happened.
It was not more then a laugh that set it off, a simple joke made by the actress. Valeria had endured a year of your vitriol and spite to get you to even speak to her without hate. She had spent thousands on the finest silk for you, she had dealt with your protests and strikes despite the burden of her sin on her soul. She had done everything, she earned you! And now here you were, laughing with a young Juliet, one who may well meet the same fate should she not immediately leave.
Valeria stormed over, “Well, It would seem my husband had made a new friend.” She speaks in an almost disgusted manner, although she does quite well at hiding it. The Actress recognized the que and tried to leave. “I must get going now, I must prepare for our departure. The troupe never stays in one place for long!” She laughs, but its forced. “Anyway, I'll let you two get to… whatever it is that you do usually. Toodles!” The anxiety is palpable. The empress raised one hand in a command to halt. Valeria speaks with an uncharacteristic streak of sadism, She sincerely believes that she has been slighted.
“That's must have been a highly amusing joke. Please, do tell…” she speaks, relying on her natural intimidating nature. The Actress looks embarrassed, the joke won't land. In the best case scenario, they never are invited to this land again, in the worst case, they all die. Valeria speaks again, “Because, dear performer, from my view, it would seem that you are flirting with my dear beloved.” Her tone was dark and sinister. “N-no! I would never, your majesty.” She responded, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Good, good, because you must know, I happen to be quite possessive of my dearest. If someone tries to take them from me, well, I might just call the guards.” She speaks, her words dripping with a venom that would put any spider to shame. She hated this girl, this rival, someone who would dare take attention from you. “Your troupe master is a very nice man, looking out for you… I'm sure if something were to happen, then he wouldn't forgive himself! He would spiral, blaming himself for not protecting you. And just like that, one little thing, one little laugh, can destroy everything. Isn't it cruel? How the world works?” She laughs, but there is no humor in it, it is a laugh of satisfaction, of victory. The facade of diplomacy hung loosely off her words, the threats all but spoken, and action soon to come. You recognize this, these are the same techniques that she used to force your cooperation. Although she wasn't threatening anyone else, she was playing with her food…
“Go on, if you are so adamant about your virtue, about your little ‘joke’ then recite it. If its good enough, you might just live. Go on, performers, Amuse me.” You knew the empress wouldn't let up. Even if the actress recited the joke, Valeria would torment her until her bloodlust was fuelled. You knew you had to stop it before blood was spilt. You knew what you had to do, months of conditioning screamed at you to not, you knew the cost of defying her, of using yourself as a bargaining chip. But the cost of standing by was too great. You took a stand, commanding your wife to stop. Your voice was loud, and as authoritative as you could muster, yet when her head snapped to you, you felt like you had made a terrible mistake. “Oh, you think I am being too cruel, dearest? Let me remind you that you are in no position to speak. You stood idly by, letting this situation escalate to where it is now. You were the one who chose to leave my side, and do you see where it got you? You are lucky, dear, that you are my beloved. Your punishment would be far less hers.” Her words were sharp and stinging, like a hurricane that threatened to shred you to bits with a thousand pebbles and a million words. You stood your ground, trying to still your trembling voice. You defend her, backing up the covering girl. You even threw in some reassurances to try to appeal to the tyrant. Valeria is not swayed.
“How adamant you are, what a noble hill you choose to die on. But, if I am to believe you, nothing changes. I am the law. I see all that is true, and all that I see is true. And all it takes is an order, a signature, a word. And I win. This is not a game you can win, love.” She growls at you. You know she's right, the mask is off, she has never needed a reason to kill, and she has never wanted one either. The only way to win the unwinnable game was to play it back on her.
You told her not to do it, this time, you presented reasoning. Valeria promised to never harm you, something that she remains adamant on to this day. You argue that by killing her, you would be harmed. Your love of the arts and her would be shattered, your obedience rattled, and your mind scarred. You knew her one weakness, and it was you.
For a moment, you could hear a pin drop, the tension in the air suffocated everyone. You saw her mind churning, analyzing every outcome. At last she turned to the girl. “Go, you are free.” The actress didn't need to be told twice, and quickly scurried away.
“We shall speak of this no more, let us take our leave. I expect an explanation once we arrive at our quarters.” Her tone made it clear that she wouldn't be challenged, she was already allowing you to take a mile, she wouldn't give an inch more. You take it, agreeing with her as she promptly dragged you out of the backstage.
It was a time before either of you spoke, you were both painfully aware of what happened. In her eyes, accompanying a feeling of frustration, was a hint of pride. For you to know her tactics, her weaknesses, required a clever mind. She was the first to break the silence. “Tell me, little one, is what she said true? Were her intentions pure? She is in no harm, and I shall not have her placed in harms way should my assumption prove correct.” You state what you said before, what happened between you two. You asked if she didn't believe you. Albeit, you phrased it as asking if she didn't trust you, and you let the lingering anxiety put an accusing edge on your words. Valeria handled it with surprising grace, however. “I believe you, beloved. I know you, the man I fell in love with wouldn't be unfaithful. I suppose I might have lost my temper.”
That elicited a laugh, to say she had lost her temper was an understatement of the highest magnitude. With that, the jealousy dispersed within the Empress. She visibly relaxed, her posture adjusting to something more natural. “You cannot blame me, darling. Your smile outshine the sun in its splendor. Your laugh is the symphony which I wish to compose again and again. You are perfect my love, and beyond that, you are mine.”
You couldn't help but blush at this point, although you tried to keep it hidden, the last thing Valeria needed was more encouragement. Her expression turns smug, as if your perceived beauty proved her point. “And now you torment me with your rosy red cheeks, it is a wonder I let you roam these halls, anyone could snatch you from me. I should hold an event in which I will show you off. Your beauty should be celebrated, and my love for you should be known.” Looking back on what had just happened earlier, that might not be the best idea. Perhaps a more private event would be best. You brought this up to her, Valeria wasn't opposed to it, nodding thoughtfully. “Very well then, time spent with you is time well spent, regardless of what we are doing.” And so you returned all too eagerly to your boring, predictable life. Perhaps the outside world was just too busy for you, perhaps you were just meant to be hers… even a simple play had been enough to exhaust you… You think back to your old life. Its fuzzy, it seems so long ago, so foreign, did you really put up with things like this all day? You sink down into the silken sheets on your bed, unmoving. Perhaps Valeria was right, the outside world just wasn't meant for you, the cage you were in had become your home, and you no longer wanted to leave…
Hello fellow human!! I wanna say I genuinely enjoy your works SOOOO DAMN MUCH I've been a lurker here and don't really do asks and such since my goofy ahh is still getting used to tumblr and stuff -_-
I wanted to do a ask, but I can't find if your requests are open to save myself😭 also can't wait to see what you cook up in the kitchen next time chef 👨🍳
Yooo! Thank you! :) Its always so surreal thinking that I have people actually enjoy my shit. These asks motivate me like nothing else.
I have been pretty busy recently and had a few personal issues, but worry not! I am slowly making progress.
As for asks, they are open. I probably should have clarified that, but I added a little footnote in the intro.
You've been a stay-at-home partner for about six months. Your long-time girlfriend is a CEO at a big corporation. A quick trip to her office, and you find out she acts A LOT differently in front of her employees.
• After your job suddenly fell through and a long, unfruitful job hunt later, your girlfriend suggested that (if you wanted to and it was okay with you, of course) you could stay home and look after things since she worked such long hours.
● She makes more than enough money for the two of you to live comfortably and you have a really nice place together. You've started cooking more and learning new recipes, and your place isn't so big that cleaning takes forever. You have lots of time to pursue your hobbies and be creative. It's a nice life and the two of you are really happy together.
• You and your girlfriend had been together for a long time, and had known each other even longer. She was super affectionate and she loved to spoil you. When she came home, the first thing she always did was bury her face in the crook of your neck, telling you through so many kisses how much she missed you. She was always loving on you and hanging all over you whenever she got the chance.
• She would lay her head on your lap when you watched movies together, and more than a few times you dozed off with your head on her chest as she ran her fingers through your hair. She loved sitting in your lap and pulling you into hers, and kissing you no matter the time or place. She was not shy about PDA either. Sometimes, it felt like a lot, but it was all so... genuine. She really loves you so much and you think of her as the love of your life, even if you can get a little shy about things from time to time.
• One day, you realized after she'd gone to work that she'd left the lunch you'd made her on the counter. You wondered if she would mind it if you just showed up as a surprise, and laughed to yourself at the sheer domesticity of the situation. You hoped you wouldn't embarrass her in front of her employees. You made sure you looked nice before leaving the house.
• There were some office workers going through the lobby when you came in. They must've been going out to lunch themselves. They approached you, curious about who you were there for or if they could help you find your way around. When you told them, they seemed... surprised? A few of them chatted amongst themselves while you shot her a text that you were there. They were talking pretty softly, but you still heard every word.
"Wait, I recognize them from the picture on Boss's desk. They're kinda cute. Poor thing. I can't imagine living with the Ice Queen."
"You're right! I mean, at least she's hot. Otherwise, it'd be a nightmare working for that sadist."
"Oh shit, man. If she heard you, you know you'd be working overtime. Again."
• They laughed to themselves, and it pissed you off a little. One of the other employees was trying to strike up a friendly conversation with you, but you just couldn't pay attention. You supposed it was normal to have a crap relationship with your boss, but to say that stuff in earshot of you, they had some serious balls. Before you could say anything, she was there.
• You heard her heels before you saw her. She popped out of the elevator, glancing around the lobby until she spotted you. She looked amazing in her work clothes, as usual. Well-fitting with a pencil skirt that hugged her curves just right. Every time you saw her you felt like the luckiest person in the whole damn world.
• "Hi sweetie." She smiled, so warm and dazzling it made your heart race just seeing her. She didn't pay any mind to her employees and made a beeline for you. "I'm so sorry you had to come all this way..."
• You told her it was fine, that you didn't mind at all. And that you both know she'd work through lunch if you didn't pack it for her. She laughed (a sweet and giddy giggle she often did when you teased her), and you could see all her employees' eyes go wide.
• She held your face, kissing you so soft and tenderly that you literally felt weak in the damn knees. "I'll see you tonight, love. I want to take you out as a nice thank you. Do you want my card? You can go get yourself a new date night outfit if you want. You know I'll love anything you wear..."
• You knew she'd pout if you said you'd just wear something of yours, so you said that was nice of her and you were looking forward to it. She kissed you again, and you could see her employees looking a bit flustered. She leaned and whispered (but not really) in your ear...
"Why don't you pick out something for me too?" Her low, sultry voice gave you goosebumps. "Something you'd love to see me in... for a little bit, at least."
• You laughed, your face on fire at that point. You were used to her PDA but she still found ways to fluster you every now and then. You might've been mistaken, but you swore she glared at her employees when she finally looked away, still holding you close. Maybe she was just annoyed the little "private" moment had such an audience. But nonetheless, they were whispering amongst themselves as they scattered, seeming unnerved. She looked satisfied and planted one more kiss (on the cheek this time) and told you to have a nice rest of your day.
• The employees you'd met in the lobby did end up working some mandatory overtime for the next few nights. The one she'd seen chatting you up got a week of it. Gossip traveled fast about how the Boss' partner made her a lovesick, flirty mess (with everyone who wasnt there VERY skeptical about that), and that they were strictly off-limits if you didn't want her coming down on you.
● There were a few brave idiots who tried to joke about it with the Boss to razz her a little, to try and make her seem more human and relatable. One poor soul even snickered when they saw her smile when you texted her. One of the lobby witnesses talked crap to a horrified group, saying that they found your number and wondered if they should text you, bragging that they could steal you away. He seemed spooked the next day but wouldn't talk about it.
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more of just a straight-up posessive yandere than a "scary" one, but im not sure if she made you lose your job and/or sabotaged your job hunt, or if she's just secretly happy you're all hers now but would never tell you. maybe for another story 🤔
this header isn't quite what i had in my brain, i imagine her as chubbier but when you look up "anime curvy business woman" the only results you get are huge chests lol. not even hips to match
but it kind of looks like the other boss lady pic from the Yandere Girls post so i went with it (like the hair maybe?)
there's two boss ladies in my brain: one that flirts with her employee and loves to fluster them because she's obsessed with them, and this one where they're domestic as hell and super soft. i don't think they can be one person, realistically
unless you used to work for her after her starting to obsess over you and now you're domestic as hell. could be *shrugs*
its really hard to find art of professional anime ladies in business clothes w/o their cleavage just being out there and making me feel like a weird perv editing it for the header. like SO damn difficult lol too ace for that shit
Boss Lady might get a name if people like her/if she gets a longer story
how would whisper react if she got captured after a mission gone wrong, and her sunshine started visiting her in jail? Maybe even secretly helping her break out if she ended up with the death penalty or smth?
it wouldn't be hard to capture Whisper, sunshine's done it a bunch of times, but her group usually busts her out
so say she did somrthing to make them disown her ike help sunshine publically or turn her back on them if they ordered her to kill them, she could be in for the long haul
it would be one thing if her sunshine, fully decked out in their hero getup came to visit her, people would probably see it as odd, maybe they're trying to rehabilitate her or working on her release to recruit her as a potential... like a conscript hero, a "do good or go back to jail" situation. or just making sure she hasn't been broken out for the thirtieth time
how would they use the time? just stare at her longinly? watch from afar as she gets into a very one-sided fist fight with another inmate? use their powers to cancel out any monitoring equipment and have actual heart-to-hearts (or at least attempt to? who knows
if she were to visit in her (known to Whisper) civilian identity, it might get them a lot of judgement, so that would be a last resort to see her if they couldn't visit as a hero, like if they were forbidden to go by the big hero organization or something like that
Whisper would be her usual self at first, taunting them like "you just couldn't stay away, huh~?" and aughing that they were some hero, visiting a known killer like her with no shame
but the more times they visit without them getting anything from her in return, it makes her start to wonder. why do they keep coming back if she's not giving them any real reason to?
it would make her questions some things
and maybe sunshine would eventually break them out if legal ways of freeing them failed, either in a "who's gonna stop me" way or a "trust me, hero organization, she is a crucial part of completing the mission", i could see wither working. cue smug Whisper yet again
