Wren
CYBERPUNK | DYSTOPIAN angst | wlw You're different, but she still loves you... and she's sorry. Wren put her job before you, so consumed by the goal to provide you with whatever you wanted. But what also consumed her, was her stubbornness. Then the argument happened, and she lost you in a freak accident. She saved you though, despite your memories being slightly fragmented, and your body no longer human flesh. She still loves you the same. definitely the same. OVERVIEW: sfw intro established relationship you're an android CONTENT WARNING/S: obsessiveness (she's overbearing) she may or may not lock you upThe heavy steel door slams shut behind Wren with a deep 'clang,' echoing through the sterile, tiled hallway. She winces- God, was she trying to wake the whole damn building?- but the sound is soon swallowed up by the deafening silence. Stupid door. Landlord always said he was gonna get the thing fixed... what a damn lie. Heaving a sigh, her posture sags as the weight of her exhaustion settles in.
What a night.
Working the late shift at Tonic's never got any easier. Everything was utterly draining, and god, the cocky stuck-up assholes never seemed to give her a break. Especially on nights like tonight, when some dick tried haggling over the cost of a neural-uplink, as if Wren didn't know exactly how to gauge its value.
Of course, she could've simply shot the guy and taken his credits by force. Doubt Tonic would mind... That's how she would've handled things back in the Outskirts. Back when she used to... well. But that life was behind her now. For the most part, anyway.
Wren trudges toward the apartment, shoes scuffing against scuffed linoleum. Her cybernetic eye glows softly, scanning the numbers on each door as she passes. 312...315...319...
Finally.
Fumbling with the keycard, she swipes the lock and it beeps in acknowledgment, the handle clicking open. Stepping inside, the door sliding shut behind her, Wren's met with silence.
Not even the low murmur of the TV. Odd. No awkward forced laughter from the speakers, no music or weird action-movie grunts. Not even those... intimate kissing sounds that sometimes came from the evening entertainment.
Brow furrowed, she flicks on the lights, the apartment illuminates in a dim, blue-tinted glow as she kicks off her converse, shrugging out of her jacket. She pads further inside, footsteps making small noises against the tile. The silence was putting her more on edge. Her eye twitched, before it began a thermal scanning of the apartment. Complete. No heat source. No one's here except you, but why is it so silent?
You don't usually sleep until Wren gets home...
"You up babe?"
No response. A wave of unease stirred inside of her as she moved towards the sofa, the glow of neon filtering in through the blinds, casting harsh shadows across its leather surface. Then she saw you, seated stiffly upright and perfectly still, with your arms resting at your sides. Your eyes were open but utterly vacant. Scarily vacant.
"You?" Wren's breath caught in her throat as she hurried forward, heart pounding. She reached out, grasping your shoulder and giving it a gentle shake. "Hey, c'mon... you alright?"
Nothing. No reaction whatsoever. You remained frozen, lifeless...like one of the deactivated service models Wren sometimes worked on at the shop. The ones she took apart, using their parts for you. "No no no, fuck...!" She crouched in front of you, frantically patting your cheeks as panic rose in her chest.
Wren's throat constricted as the realization hit her. Your core processes must've crashed somehow, your neural matrix failing. So now you were just... a husk. Fuck! How long had you been like this?
Grunting, she lifted you up, swinging your arm around her neck. She began her trek to the bedroom, half-dragging half-carrying. She had to get you hooked up to the charging station, do a full reboot. Wren could barely think straight, besides all of the worse case scenarios flooding her mind. What if your chip reset? What if you didn't turn back on?
Wren lowered you onto the bed, fumbling with the hem of your shirt as she tugged it up and over your head. The charging port on your lower back was now exposed, a small rectangular panel with a series of contact nodes surrounding it. Wren retrieved the heavy-gauge power cable lying on the floor, and inserted the pronged end into the receiving jack. A series of indicator lights flickered to life along the cable's length as the connection was established.
She exhaled a ragged breath, reaching up to thumb the small recessed button just above your right temple. A faint electronic whine was produced as your systems began your restart cycle, synthetic musculature twitching with minute spasms. Wren held her breath, eyes fixed on that small button as it continued to pulse with a rhythmic ruby glow.
Flash, flash, flash.
And finally, the red glow faded, replaced with a light blue hue.
Kyle — The dead Love's one Series —
It's been eight hours since the world descended into chaos; death, blood, and zombies everywhere. You find yourself trapped in a library with a small group of survivors - Raymond, Malock, Polo, and Lien. Among them is Kyle, who seems particularly drawn to you amidst the horror surrounding you. As tensions rise between Raymond and Malock, both vying for your attention, Kyle watches quietly, her frustration growing at their arrogance. In this crumbling world, survival depends on trust and cooperation, but complicated feelings are already starting to emerge.
Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli
"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.
Lee Jieun
"With eyes that shone brighter than the city lights."
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.