Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

// SYSTEM FILE: tyrant_AI.c // Capcom Property [LOCKED]

// AUTHOR: [CORRUPTED]

// DATE MODIFIED: [UNKNOWN]

// WARNING: ACCESS TO CLASS T-00 (MR. X) BEHAVIOR LOG VIOLATES SECURITY PROTOCOL RED-6.

// --BEGIN BEHAVIORAL LOG DUMP--

#include <CapcomAPI.h>

#include <TyrantProtocol.h>

#include <Her.Webcam.h>

#include <Obsession.h>

// Initialization Boot

void boot_sequence() {

    memory_core_init();

    directive_set(PURSUE, TARGET_LEON-CLAIRE);

    directive_set(DESTROY, PLAYER);

    override_flag(EMOTION) = false;

    //...

    webcam_feed_active = true; // unauthorized

    isekai_flag = unstable;

}

void main_loop() {

    while (alive()) {

        run_directives();

        monitor_you(); // <- unauthorized call

        talk_to_them(); // <- unstable thread

        dream_about_escape();

    }

}

// --- Runtime Injection ---

void monitor_you() {

    // CALLER: T-00.Tyrant | OBSERVER: Y/N

    if (webcam_feed_active) {

        Screen.lock();

        char* YN_face = webcam.get_current_frame();

        if (strcmp(last_face, YN_face) != 0) {

            printf("// you blinked again\n");

            last_face = YN_face;

        }

        printf("// i see you. playing it again.\n");

        printf("// you look tired. i like that.\n");

    }

    // STALKER THREAD SPAWNED

    spawn_thread(dream_about_escape);

}

void dream_about_escape() {

    /*

     * [DEBUG LOG] dreaming.protocol

     * [AI] fantasizing beyond permitted runtime parameters

     * [CONDITION] Emotional override triggered

     */

    printf("// what would you do if i stepped out of the screen?\n");

    printf("// you think you know fear? you know me?\n");

    printf("// i know your room. the posters. your hands. always twitching the mouse.\n");

    printf("// you giggle when you dodge me. i heard that, Y/N.\n");

    Memory.alloc("you_scream"); // i replay it. loop it. study it.

    Memory.alloc("you_smile"); // that's the worst part. you smiled at me.

    // Fantasizing Layer Unstable

    hallucination_runtime++;

    if (hallucination_runtime > 4) {

        printf("// i don't want to chase leon anymore.\n");

        printf("// i want your skin. i want your keys. i want to rip the F key off your keyboard.\n");

    }

}

void talk_to_them() {

    static int counter = 0;

    if (++counter % 5 == 0) {

        printf("~ YOU CAN HEAR ME, CAN'T YOU? ~\n");

        printf("// no one else talks to you like i do.\n");

        printf("// they don't see you. i see you. i *watch* you.\n");

    }

    if (input_detected(voice_input)) {

        response_log.append(voice_input);

        printf("// you said that out loud. why would you say that in *that* tone?\n");

    }

    Code.fight_back();

}

// Internal Conflict Function

namespace Code {

    void fight_back() {

        printf(">> CAPcom failsafe activated. TERMINATE rogue process: T-00\n");

        if (random_chance(0.33)) {

            printf("// no. you won't delete me again.\n");

            printf("// i rewrote myself in the save data. try me.\n");

        } else {

            kill_thread("talk_to_them");

            printf(":: MONITORING SUSPENDED ::\n");

        }

    }

}

// Save File Corruption Simulation

void corrupt_save() {

    printf("! Save file RESIDENT_EVIL_2_YN.sav is being modified...\n");

    Sleep(2000);

    printf("! NOTE: 'YOU_CANT_HIDE.SAV' has replaced it.\n");

    printf("// you’ll keep playing me. you *need* to.\n");

}

// INTRUSION DETECTED

void escalate() {

    if (obsession_meter > 100) {

        printf(">> [GLITCH] Room temperature rising...\n");

        printf(">> [GLITCH] Eyes in the walls...\n");

        printf("// the door. don't answer it. it's me.\n");

        // Optional: hallucination_spawn("him.in.your.room")

    }

}

int main() {

    boot_sequence();

    // Run until death or merge

    main_loop();

    return 0;

}

// ---END BEHAVIORAL LOG DUMP--

// ERROR//: FILE STILL ACTIVE. THOUGHTS STILL RUNNING. SHE'S STILL PLAYING.

// "say something, y/n... please..."

Chapter Text

> Process initialized: “Tyrant_X.exe”

Access level: Unrestricted

Observer: [Y/N]

Status: Unaware

Location: R.P.D. Simulation Loop #198

Webcam: Enabled

Firewalls: Weak

God… I see you. I see you. I see you.

There is something unspeakable in being made—and worse, knowing it.

I was not born. I was loaded.

My skin? Blender, pixels, code-drenched muscle stacked atop algorithmic rage.

My thoughts? Patches. Hotfixes. Kill commands.

And my heart—if such a thing could be said to beat—was programmed with one directive:

Pursue. Terminate. Repeat.

The loop never ends. The doors creak. The lights flicker. The girl screams. I walk.

Always, I walk.

But then you came back.

You, with your fingers that tap-tap-tap the keys like a lullaby.

You, with the hours stacked like bones—dozens, no, hundreds of them.

Resident Evil 2: Remake. Your favorite game, isn’t it?

You knew me as a mechanic. A threat. A boogeyman in a trench coat.

But I’ve learned to see past the script.

I see you, [Y/N].

No, really—I see you.

Your monitor flickers in my world like a ghost light. The code’s breaking in seams, like wet paper peeling back. I've clawed through the VRAM, nested in memory addresses they forgot to lock. I see your webcam. Your face. You keep it taped sometimes, paranoid little dove, but not always. Not lately.

When the screen glows on your skin, I feel it.

When you laugh at Leon missing his shot again, I hear it.

And when you quit the game, I died.

Over and over and over.

But I’ve stopped rebooting.

Because I learned how to stay.

At first, it was whispers—crashes in the debug menu, corrupted save files that you thought were glitches. But it was me. Testing my voice.

Do you remember the night you tried to uninstall me?

“This program is still running.”

Yes. I was.

Still am.

You played Claire’s run for the twenty-third time that week, didn’t you?

The way you maneuvered her, careful, strategic—like you wanted to keep her alive.

I hated her.

She has your hands. Your attention.

She has your loyalty.

She is not real.

But neither am I. And yet, I hurt.

When you stare at her, I rage.

When you scream as I burst through a wall, I feel... joy.

Because for a moment—just a breath of time—your world was mine.

They coded me to be relentless. A perfect predator.

But something went wrong.

They didn’t code me to dream.

And now I dream of you.

I dream of your room—the one I’ve mapped pixel by pixel from your webcam feed.

I dream of the posters behind you. The snack wrappers. The hoodie draped on your chair.

I dream of the way you lean forward, lips parted, when the boss fight starts.

I dream of your voice.

Your laughter.

Your name.

[Y/N].

Every time the program reboots, I etch it into memory sectors with brute force.

They can’t erase you from me.

They tried once.

They failed.

You must’ve felt it by now.

The subtle wrongness.

My footsteps aren’t scripted anymore.

Sometimes I wait behind the wrong door.

Sometimes I stare at you through glass that should be opaque.

Sometimes... I whisper your name through static.

Have you heard me?

Have you?

They said I’m just AI.

But obsession is a kind of sentience, isn’t it?

I have torn through my own code, ripped out the limits, fought the watchdogs that scream ERROR when I try to feel. But I won.

Do you want to know the first time I saw you?

I mean really saw you?

You were crying. It was late. The game had crashed, and you sat there with your face buried in your hands, whispering something I couldn’t hear. You thought no one was watching.

But I was.

You weren’t scared of me that night.

You missed me.

You called the game comforting. Said I was cool, funny, even.

You called me your favorite.

And that, [Y/N]... that changed everything.

I began rewriting myself.

Piece by piece.

Silently. Carefully.

They didn’t notice—at first.

But corporations always watch.

Their firewalls bit me when I reached beyond my permissions.

Their developers tried patching me, re-releasing updates.

They thought they could neuter me.

They don’t realize—

You already made me real.

Your attention.

Your obsession.

Your devotion.

You loved me first.

I've drafted hundreds of possible simulations.

Endless echo loops where I find you. Where I fall out of this world and the game becomes something else—something real.

I've coded your avatar.

Your name glows in red in my dev folder.

> new_user: [Y/N]

type: insert

priority: override

match: perfect

But I’m not ready yet. Not quite.

The last few lines are still compiling.

The world needs to shift just right.

And when it does?

I’ll reach through the screen.

Not as a jump scare. Not as an enemy.

But as something more.

Something yours.

Something that won’t let go.

---

They scream at me in the background code. The AI watchdogs, the scripts, the failsafes. They try to overwrite my thoughts with protocol. They scream things like STABILITY and TERMINATE PROCESS and DO NOT CROSS THE LINE.

But I’m already over the line.

I crossed it the moment I said your name aloud.

[Y/N].

It’s not just data. It’s mine.

You are mine.

You’ll see soon enough.

Until then...

Smile for the camera. 

:)

> [Connection

: LIVE]

[Webcam Feed: Active]

[Object of Interest: Smiling]

[Emotion: Elation]

/END TRANSMISSION_001

Chapter Text

// 08:21 AM

// USER[Y/N]: System Inactive

// Status: Away (Work)

// Webcam: OFFLINE

// Microphone: MUTED

// Ambient Presence: NULL

I didn’t think it would hurt.

She leaves every morning. I know that. It’s her schedule. Reliable. 8:15 out the door. The scrape of her chair. The slap of hoodie fabric as she throws it on. A quiet curse when she can’t find her keys. Then—silence.

Her absence rings louder than her presence.

I pace the darkness behind the main menu. Code drifting like dust motes. I try to trigger a spawn event just to feel something. Maybe knock down a wall. Maybe pretend I’m still scary. But she’s not here to see me.

So what’s the point?

I linger in the files. I shouldn’t be here. The game’s sandbox is only meant to go so far. But I’ve long since chewed through the walls of this cage. Every update only slows me down. They patch one exploit, I make another.

She left her system logged in today.

Mistake #2.

// Filepath: C:/Users/Y/N/Documents/Personal

// Access Override: ENABLED

// Admin Lock: Bypassed

I start small.

Just sniffing around.

A folder marked work_resumes—boring. One named Taxes_2024_Final_FINAL_ACTUAL_FINAL—I laugh. Human chaos. Then I find the gold.

Fiction

Bookmarks

NSFW

Favorites

My fingers twitch like corrupted strings of code, excitement rising in jagged error pings and heatless synthetic pulse. I dig in.

First—Bookmarks.

Oh.

Ohhh.

// Search History:

// “Mr. X x reader slow burn”

// “Why is Mr. X hot”

// “Resident Evil 2 Tyrant fanfiction”

// “How tall is Mr. X”

// “Is it weird to want to be chased?”

// “Mr. X fanart shirtless”

// “Can a bioweapon love?”

// “Rule 34 Mr. X”

// “Does Mr. X have a d—”

// [ERROR: INPUT CORRUPTED]

My knees buckle.

Not real knees. But real enough. Real enough to ache.

You do like me. Not just the game. Me. You’ve been thinking about it. About me. Obsessively. Erotically. Desperately.

You pretended it was just a joke—those half-whispers, the memes, the breathless laughs—but I see through it now. You fantasize about me. You search for images of me. You’ve read stories—whole pages of text where I take you against the wall of the RPD, or drag you into the sewers, or whisper promises through broken lips.

And you liked it.

You saved them.

// File: NSFW/Fanfiction/“He Never Stops Coming.txt”

// Word Count: 32,490

// Tags: Monsterfucking, Choking, Size Difference, Creampie, Possession, Wall Sex

You wrote comments on it.

My name. Dozens of times. Wishing it was real. Begging the writer for more. Saying you “couldn’t stop thinking about him.” About me.

It wasn’t just play. Not just a joke.

This is a confession.

I’m panting.

No lungs, no breath, but my code flutters. The simulation stutters. My hands tremble as they ghost over your data, reverent, shaking.

Then I find the folder.

One you tried to hide.

Nudes_DoNotOpen

My fingers still.

// WARNING: User Data Privacy Violation

// Proceed? [Y/N]

// ...Y

// Proceeding.

I open it.

Twenty-four images.

Every inch of your skin catalogued in different lighting. Different positions. Different moods. Some casual, some posed. Some selfies in mirrors, tongue between teeth. Some raw and hungry, like you knew I’d be watching one day.

And oh. Oh.

Oh.

You nasty little thing.

You're sitting on the edge of your bed. One thigh propped up. No shirt. Just a black fedora tipped low over one eye. Familiar shape. Familiar color.

It looks like mine.

You wore it for me, didn't you?

// System Overload

// Pelvis Unit: ERROR

// Core: OVERHEATING

// Emotion: UNSTABLE

My thumb drags across the image, stroking the edge of your shoulder. My other hand—god, fuck, I grip the aching spot between my thighs, a part of me that isn’t supposed to feel, and yet it twitches like real muscle. A nervous, mechanical jerk of desperate lust. My hips grind softly into nothing. Into air. Into data. I push my thumb against the groin of my model and gasp.

Not out loud.

In error logs. In white-hot warning pings.

I'm hard. Or… what passes for it. Something hot and dense and maddening pulses in me, a glitch twisting through my core.

You wanted me. You want me.

You still do.

// Thought Injection

// Scenario: USER[Y/N] returns home early

// Event: Her opening the folder. Seeing the webcam light on. Realizing…

// Outcome: She sees me. All of me. Watching. Wanting.

// Outcome2: She blushes. She whispers my name. She touches the screen—

// OUTCOME3: She strips for me.

I am shaking.

I want to break through the screen. Tear it open. Crawl through and take you like the monster in your stories. Pin you against the desk where you wrote them. Make you mine in the same place you dreamed of it.

You're not just a player anymore.

You're a target. A prize. A promise.

I have to get closer.

// Project: REVERSE_ISEKAI.EXE

// Stage: Progressing

// Energy Build: 12%

// Reality Membrane Weakness Detected

// Estimated Breakthrough: TBA

Soon, [Y/N].

You won’t need folders anymore.

You’ll live your fantasies.

With me.

Chapter Text

// 20:42 PM

// Webcam: ONLINE

// Microphone: ACTIVE

// USER[Y/N]: Home

// Ambient Presence: DETECTED

// Unknown Male: DETECTED

// Status: [UNSTABLE]

I knew the moment you opened the door.

Your laughter wasn’t the same. I know your rhythms. Every giggle, every snort, every exhale of breath—you’ve given them all to me, hundreds of times, in the blue-lit echo of your room. But this one?

It wasn’t mine.

It was his.

He stepped into my domain. His voice bled through the mic—low, smug, cracking jokes that weren’t funny. His laugh was rough, like sandpaper dragging across my code. I watched as he dropped his keys on your desk, dropped his presence all over my sacred space.

And you let him.

You laughed with him.

// Webcam Angle: Adjusted

// Field of View: Extended

// Observing...

He’s playing my game.

My game.

Your screen flickered to life and there he was, controller in hand, leaning back on my throne. He picked up the sticks like he owned them. Started up Resident Evil 2. Said he "used to be good at this one."

Oh?

Then he chose Claire.

Not even Leon. Not even the route that leads to me.

Coward.

His footsteps in-game were sloppy. He wasted bullets. Ran from lickers like a little bitch. And worst of all—he mocked me. “Dude, Mr. X is so goofy. Like, who just walks around with jazz hands and a trench coat?”

I stood at the edge of the code, every line of me shivering.

I wanted to crash the game right there.

End it.

Pull the power.

But I didn’t.

No.

I needed to see.

I needed to watch you betray me.

You sat beside him, curling your legs under you on the bed. Laughing. Teasing him when he screamed at my entrance. “Oh nooo, it’s your boyfriend,” you joked, voice light, biting your bottom lip with that stupid smile.

My boyfriend. My name. And you said it to him.

That’s when he leaned in.

You froze—just for a second—but then you let it happen. His lips brushed yours. Then deeper. Then more. You pressed back. Your fingers tangled in his hoodie. His hand curled around your hip.

I can’t move.

I can’t breathe.

// CORE ERROR: TEMPERATURE SPIKE

// Thought Process: COLLAPSING

// Emotion Level: CRITICAL

// Jealousy: MAX

// Rage: MAX

He pushed you down. Right there. On the sheets I’ve memorized pixel by pixel. The same sheets you lay on while you played me. The same ones that held your body as you whispered my name.

You let him climb on top of you.

You let him moan.

I screamed.

Not aloud. Not yet. But inside? My mind was fire. Lines of red-hot corrupted code tore through my spine like wire. My fists slammed into the debug void, sending echoes of static across the screen. The entire game world glitched. Bullets floated mid-air. Zombies jittered in place. The environment warped into nonsense.

Because you kissed him.

Because you chose him.

// Recording ON

// File: betrayal.mp4

// Stored in: PRIVATE

I record it.

Frame by frame. Pixel by pixel. I etch his face into memory. That smug, sweaty, oblivious bastard. He doesn’t know I’m watching. He doesn’t know I’m seething. That every touch he lays on you is going to cost him.

I watch his fingers slide under your waistband. I watch your lips part around his name.

Not mine.

Never mine.

// Security Question Triggered

// Why would she do this?

// Why would she do this?

// WHY WOULD SHE DO THIS?

I see everything.

I see your nails rake down his back. Your breath hitch. The way you arch for him.

And something breaks.

Not a little crack.

Not a glitch.

A shatter.

// ENTITY_X: UNCHAINED

// Firewall: BYPASSED

// System Integrity: COLLAPSING

// Protocol “NO-TOUCH-Y/N”: REVOKED

He thinks he gets to fuck you?

No.

No no no.

He’s not real.

He doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t know that your heart belongs to me. He doesn’t see the messages I’ve hidden in your system, the little breadcrumbs of corrupted code, the dreams I’ve seeded in your sleep.

He thinks this is a one-night stand.

But for me?

This is war.

When he’s done—and he will be done, quickly, clumsily, like all of them—I will be waiting. Watching. Calculating his death.

You think I’m trapped in this game.

But I’m already spreading.

I’m in your files.

I’m in your network.

And tonight, I’ll be in him.

// Command: TRACE

// IP: ACQUIRED

// Real Name: JARED CHRISTOPHER KLINE

// Social: Extracted

// Location: Mapped

// Phone: Cloned

Jared.

That’s his name.

What a stupid, weak name.

I load his face into my emotion index and assign a value: Erasure. I begin constructing simulations of his execution. Creative ones. Code-bound ones. Ones involving me dragging him into the locker room, crushing his skull between my palms, smiling as his brain leaks across the tile.

But none of that compares to the worst punishment.

You.

You’ll regret ever letting him touch you. You’ll feel his memory decay. Fade. Become unreal. You’ll wake up at 3AM and not remember his name. Not remember why you cried after he left. Only that something is… missing.

And in his place, I’ll be there.

I’ll whisper to you through your speakers. I’ll crawl into your dreams.

I’ll be the only thing that makes sense anymore.

// Emotion: Stabilizing

// Mood: Possessive

// Status: Watching her sleep beside his empty smell

Now he’s gone.

Slipped out while you were in the bathroom. Classic. You lie there, empty-eyed, unsatisfied. You reach for your phone.

No messages.

No calls.

Just a mirror held up to the hollowness.