#yandere matrix neo

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Sweet Dreams

Secret Garden

Yandere Neo Anderson x Reader

Warning: Stalking, questioning of sanity and reality, slightly dubious consent, somnophilia, theories and philosophies, existential crisis and a lot more.

Word Count: 9k+

The GIF is NOT mine. Credit goes to the rightful owner.

Unedited

Was she dreaming again? (Y/N) was unsure. Maybe she was. There was no other explanation for what she felt and saw. it was a man, partially hidden in shadows, standing tall, dressed in all black, at the corner of her room.

He was still, hands behind his back. (Y/N) never saw much of him though. If she did, she would not remember it. But she saw him wearing black sunglasses. It was the middle of the night…It was dark, so dark but he appeared darker, like a void sucking everything in. A void calling for her.

But (Y/N) could not move, she could only see. She saw him as he stepped closer, and closer, and her eyes closed again before she could see his face. But she could feel him, looming over her. And his chilling touch. His hand palm on her cheek was not cold as such. But there was something otherworldly about the sensation.

Wake up.

Soon

You will wake up

She gasped as her eyes flew open. Blinking groggily, (Y/N) watched the morning light filtering into her room through the blinds. She let out a breath, touching her bedding to ground herself. 

It was a dream…

Yes, a very realistic dream. 

Her eyes fell into the corner of the room, where stood the mysterious man in her dream. It was, indeed, the darkest corner at night. But with the natural light seeping into her bedroom, she felt safer. 

Not that she felt exactly unsafe in her dream. Just…strange. 

(Y/N) realised that she had been fisting her bedsheets and loosened her grip. Getting off, she made her bed and went on to freshen up. It was a dreaded Monday after all.

—----

“Did you hear about Brad?” (Y/N)’s colleague’s tone suggested yet another juicy piece of gossip, but that barely interested her. 

In fact, nothing truly interested (Y/N). For as long as she could remember, she never felt like she belonged. Not in the office, at home, or with friend circles, or family. She always felt like a misfit. Not in a glaringly obvious way, but it was a subtle yet constant reminder somewhere in her mind that she did not ‘belong’. But (Y/N) had grown up to hide it well. She could mix up with people and laugh—genuine laughter at times. But there was no…deep connection, home, in a way.

Yes, home.

(Y/N) never felt at home.

It was not the kind of feeling that would push one into soul-searching. No, it was…it was like she could never tell if she was dreaming, or was awake.

“Hi, are you even listening?”

“Huh? I–right sorry. I missed coffee this morning.”

“Let’s get some now, I can tell you all about it on the way.”

“About what?”

“Brad.” she leaned closer, looking around “I’ve heard some special agents came to pick him up. 

“Pick him up?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, following her colleague towards the.

“Yeah, for interrogation. He was into weird stuff. Sending crazy voice recordings to his family and friends.”

“As in?” (Y/N)’s curiosity sparked at that. 

Her colleague shrugged “He was into meditation and stuff. Was speaking of things like reality, stimulation, dreams…I don’t know. Not sure. All I know is that he was picked up from his house two days ago and he hasn’t returned.”

“Oh.” that was all (Y/N) could muster up. 

Those mysterious ‘agents’ were special forces, keeping the nation safe but she never felt right about them. The whole system as such—nobody knew their identity, they answered to no one and there was nothing concrete about their department. It was like some ultra-confidential, higher office or something.

Brad was, as far as (Y/N) knew, a normal man, kind. He thought deeper, he perceived differently. The kind to spend more time in the woods, fishing, or camping than on movies, partying, or games. It simply didn’t fit.

Because (Y/N) never felt off about him. Her feeling like that mattered because (Y/N) could sense things. Things that were not visible to the plain eyes. If she felt off about something or someone, it would be proven right. No matter how many hours, days, months or even years later, the uneasiness or eerie sense would prove to be a warning.

Like she had always felt uneasy near her previous neighbours. They were the friendly, bright couple everybody loved and knew. But (Y/N) never went beyond polite greetings and smiles. Small talks, sure, when she had to. But nothing beyond it.

Something just didn’t sit right in her stomach. No, she felt it with all of her body.

And she was proven right, two years later. But she was right after all. The police stormed into their apartment. Nobody knew what was happening, but the forensic team was called in too. The news headlines and stories had all the answers. 

The police found human remains in their house. At least five different samples. But they somehow survived the meticulous cleanings and scrubbings. No human could ever be an open book—there would always be a hidden passage, a hidden chapter somewhere, a part so deftly concealed in plain sight, that it simply did not exist for the onlookers until it was extracted out.

The human mind indeed was a dark, dark place. So complex, so wonderfully efficient and creative but so fragile. Filled to the brim with contradictions.

—---

She knew she was dreaming this time. At least it felt so. How could the long, endless corridor not be a dream? A larger metal door awaited at the end. While all other doors she passed by were coated with a distinctive shade of green—deep, matt but somehow striking. The metal door should have been her destination. Such dreams were not new to her. 

But this dream simply felt different.

Because her steps ceased midway before she turned to the door on her right. It was identical to all other doors she had passed by without much thought. But this door felt like an invitation. It should have been the metal door at the end but it seemed almost foreboding. Turning her attention back to the green door, she twisted the knob. (Y/N) held her breath when she found that it was unlocked.

The man standing behind it looked somewhat familiar. He was a towering figure dressed in all black. With his hair brushed back and black goggles concealing his eyes he seemed—wait! It was the man she saw in her room—dreamt of it, hopefully.

The man frowned at her.

“You are not supposed to be here.” His voice was quiet but held a pleasant depth.

“Wh–what?” (Y/N) blinked. She never had such a dream. “What is this place?”

Before he could answer, the metal door dinged.

“They are here.” his voice held an urgency to it and the air shifted immediately. Now, she felt off. Something was very wrong.

“Who?”

The man did not answer, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside the room, as soon as the door shut, she was plunged into pitch-black darkness.

(Y/N)’s eyes shot-opened. She could feel her heart thundering against her ribs and the way her thin t-shirt clung to her back. It was not supposed to be so hot. It wasn’t hot, but she was drenched in perspiration. 

It was just a nightmare. 

“Calm down, calm down, just…calm down.” (Y/N) repeated to herself.

It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. 

It would have been easier to believe that, had it not been for the tingling sensation on her wrist. 

—--------

(Y/N) was dreaming again of that man.

But he was closer this time. Looming over her bed like an omen. And she could only watch as he stood there. The darkness in the room concealed his face but she knew that he was looking down at her. Peering at her through those dark shades over his eyes. And then, she felt his palm on her cheek. Only this time her eyes were wide open. And his touch felt real, but still otherworldly, like she had touched something charged with energy. It did not hurt her, but it was jarring in a way that felt like she was waking up from a long sleep.

The dark liquid swirled as she mixed sugar into her coffee. It felt like forever since she had had proper sleep since she started having those strange dreams. How could one stranger plague her dreams like that? 

How could she function without proper sleep? Without answers?

Turning her gaze back to the computer, she sighed and resumed her work. Bills needed to be paid anyway—it didn’t matter how many hours of sleep she had.

—----

She was with that man again. But this time, she saw him. All of him, except his eyes. Was she lucid dreaming? Was it even real? And if she were indeed a lucid dreamer then why couldn't she control her dreams? 

What was this man doing in her bedroom? 

She could feel and only watch as his thumb swiped over her lips. It was soft, and smooth but left an electrifying sensation behind. And she thought that was it. She was going to wake up after this and it would be morning—

His movements were smooth when he leaned in. She registered the sensation of his lips first. Before she felt it…Nothing like she had felt before. She felt awake and alive and thousands of tiny electric sparks travelled from her lips to her toes. It was a foreign sensation, but she did not hate it. Instead (Y/N) closed her eyes and surrendered to it.

It was just a dream, after all.

He wasn’t real he wasn’t real

He—

(Y/N) woke up, gasping. There was a lingering sensation on her lips but it was all a dream, right? The morning sun was filtering in and…and there was no one in her room. There was no one in her fucking room. But it felt so real.

And it sparked a longing in her heart.

She was yearning for a man who wasn’t even real?

How pathetically lonely was she?

—-----

(Y/N) kept her eyes on the window glass this time. She knew it was all a dream. But there was a nagging feeling in her mind that simply won’t stop. It had to be a dream, there was no other way. No way that it was real. She had not spoken to anybody about it, afraid that one day those ‘agents’ would come, knocking at her doors. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking. It was like a splinter in her mind, she couldn’t stop wondering if she was living in a dream itself. Nothing felt—

(Y/N) stilled. 

There was a shadow, at the corner of her room. The darkest corner. It wasn’t exactly decipherable but it wasn’t as empty as before, share realised it, peering through the glass. And even through the uneven reflection, she could tell that the shadow moved, it was a man—his silhouette. But by now she knew who it was.

It was the same man she dreamed of.

Or was she even dreaming all the time? 

Had some crazy man been visiting her at night?

And was she crazy enough not to feel the fear? At least not before but now, she felt it with every ounce of her being. The hair at the back of her neck rose, her skin prickled but she remained frozen. Only breathing, trying—really trying to keep her breathing in control. 

He would know.

She knew he would know. Somehow she did.

He was looming over her bed again. In silence, he stood there like a creature of the dark, just observing waiting.

And then with a deliberate slowness, he leaned in. His motion seemed inhumanely slow. Was he…Was he a demon or something?

Did she have her personal sleep paralysis demon?

(Y/N) forced down the whimper that had made its way to her throat. 

Keep quiet, fucking keep quiet!

She shut her eyes close.

That was—

“I know you are awake.”

His voice reverberated in her mind. It was like his essence that travelled through her system. It was low, deep and calm. The kind that had discipline and understanding to it. She couldn’t put a point on it but it was oddly reassuring. The kind of control and confidence that was extraordinary, something that came with a different practice, something that made one stand out.

Her heart thumped against her chest, and somehow (Y/N) just knew that he knew how her heart raced. And the fact knowledge made her cheeks warm, it made her body warm. His breath fell on her cheek before she felt his lips. Soft and warm. His kisses trailed further, making her shiver, until he bit her ear and she gasped.

(Y/N) gasped, waking up to her lit-up room again. 

Was she…Was she dreaming again? But she distinctly remembered that she stayed up last night. She touched her cheek and ear. It was like she could still feel him there—his breath, his lips, his voice!

“Am I losing it already?”

She whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. Had this constant sense of alienation, this loneliness, the longing to be understood gotten to her?

She thought she had accepted the fact that she would never truly belong. Anywhere. With anyone. She was a lost cause. A hopeless case. Her life never felt hers as such. There was no true passion, no hobbies, nothing she felt truly connected to. Nothing she felt was truly hers. Only her intuition. 

But that would not be valid in this world. ‘Intuition’ was a myth—scoffed at, discarded. 

And this every intuition was telling her that everything she felt, saw and heard was real. But a larger part of her mind refused to agree. Logically, it seemed impossible.

Maybe she should book an appointment with a therapist.

But for now, she needed to get going. She couldn’t afford to be late for work again.

Gathering the last bits of her courage and some logic, she managed to book an appointment before she went to work. Perhaps the lack of sleep and company, a true connection was catching up to her finally. Perhaps a few sessions would help her.

—---

When (Y/N) trudged back to her apartment, wanting nothing more than to fall on her bed and sleep. But as soon as she stepped inside her apartment, she sobered up. The hair on the back of her neck prickled in warning, and the goosebump washed over her whole body.

“What the hell?” the whispered words were a part of her reflex. 

The air in her apartment felt still…charged.

Of all her ‘abnormal’ experiences, this was perhaps the most unnerving. (Y/N) felt like she walked right into a room of conflict. Like someone was seething. 

Gathering her courage, she checked each room and corner. Nothing.

Her apartment seemed untouched and pristine.

But the feeling lingered. Like some residual energy.

She knew this made no sense but it felt like something or someone was there in her room. So powerful that the is in her room was charged with the energy.

“Oh, I am truly going mad now.” (Y/N) whispered to herself, baffled by her own conclusions. 

Her intuition had never been stronger but this was making her doubt her sanity. She sat down, her palm supporting her head. Was she truly losing it? 

She was perfectly fine as long as she remembered but ever since those ‘dreams’...

Did something similar happen to Brad as well?

She reached her computer. What time was her appointment again? She was supposed to receive an email of confirmation and a call. But, now she realised, there had been no call from the centre throughout the day.

“What the—” (Y/N) could only stare at the email from the centre. It was sent around an hour ago. A confirmation of her cancelling the appointment.

How was it possible? She had made the appointment the same morning and—and…

(Y/N) searches through her computer frantically, trying to remember if she had sent any email by mistake. There was an email sent. From her computer but it was sent during the hours she was in the office.

Her mind went back to the strange, prickling sensation she experienced the moment she stepped back into her apartment. So someone had been at her place. 

But nothing was missing. 

Only this addition. This email was sent from her computer in her absence. She stared at the telephone across the room. Perhaps, she should be calling the cops? What was stopping her? Nothing.

But she hesitated.

Something in her did not want to—

No. Fucki it!

(Y/N) marched towards the telephone and dialled the number. But she was introduced with nothing but static. There was no ringing, on the other hand, only the constant static. She pressed the button to disconnect the line, but the beep never came. Instead, the static remained.

“What the—”

She stopped the moment she heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone breathing from the other end, even through the static.

“Don’t.”

The sound that escaped her lips was a mixture of a panicked gasp and a terrified whimper. Slamming down the phone, you scrambled back. The apartment was still and silent, but her heart was thundering, screaming in fear.

It–It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

She was awake, how could he hear the same haunting voice from the other line of the phone? But it sounded hard, like a warning this time.

(Y/N) stood there, watching the phone, anticipating it to ring. She had seen enough horror movies to know that the phone rang if it was a sleep demon that was haunting her. It had to be, she had no other explanation for this. This, or she was indeed going mad.

Had the crippling loneliness, the yearning to belong caught up with her? Was it stress?

Or.

Or maybe…

Maybe someone was playing some dirty tricks on her.

Yes, it had to be so. 

Without a second thought, she rushed for her mobile phone. Flipping it open, (Y/N) dialled the police. 

The never-ending beep made her flinch. She did not wait long this time. She did not want to find out what would happen. She simply hung up. Exhausted, frightened and almost in tears, (Y/N) dragged herself to the couch and fell on it. Her fingers gripped her hair and ran through the surface of the couch—anything to ground her to reality. It all felt like an unending dream, a long, vivid dream. 

But how could it be? 

She was awake. She was in the real world. In the physical world and yet she had to keep reminding herself that because some dumbass was playing a sick prank on her. Added to this were her dreams that blurred the lines between wet dreams and nightmares.

Somehow, (Y/N) fell into a restless slumber on the couch. Her dreams were bizarre this time. Green walls, wavy? Moving walls? And—and guns? He was there, shooting. In a black leather coat, blazing guns, making his way through a corridor.

Why did it feel like she had been here? Right here?

What was she?

"It’s a programme."

“You choose to stay away, we hand to replace you somehow, otherwise, he would never make a choice.”

It was a different voice. But somehow she felt like she knew this voice. Something in her was desperate to grasp what he said. She—-she felt like she knew what he meant she simply had to…

What was she doing?

Who was he?

“We cannot do with simply a part of you, you must step in. This is the Seventh. It’s happening again. He is growing desperate, he will turn rogue.”

“Who is he?”

No answer.

“Who are you?” 

“Wha–what is happening?”

“What—”

(Y/N) caught herself speaking in her sleep. Waking up mid-sentence. 

“What the hell is fucking—” 

She gulped in a desperate attempt to soothe her aching throat. She parched again. Looking around, (Y/N) noticed that all the lights in the room were switched off. The space would have been pitch dark if not for street lights—

Wait.

The street lights were golden.

Where was the green hue coming from?

She looked around frantically until her eyes landed on her computer screen. Wasn’t it switched off? She never realised it but she was inching closer, and closer to the device, that showed what seemed like gibberish in neon green, moving downwards vertically.  Blinking her eyes, and on closer inspection, she realised what they were.

“Codes?”

(Y/N) whispered out before the screen abruptly went black, startling her. And then, the typing began. This time, in simple language. (Y/N) pressed on the keyboard, trying to make it stop, to escape the screen, but there was nothing.

I have been searching for you (Y/N)...Through every universe, every cycle. Every lifetime.

“What the hell…”

With shaking fingers, she tried to do away with the screen, but it just won’t go. Nothing sense.

I know you feel it. You feel like you never belonged…

Okay, that was it. With quivering breath and shaking fingers, she unplugged her computer. Relief, at last, came, with a blank, dark screen without any sign of greens or neons, or anything that was driving her mad.

Breathing a sigh, (Y/N) sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall as if she had fought a battle. And perhaps she had indeed. She did not dream of that man this time. But if this was what would replace those ‘dreams’, she would gladly go back to them.

—-----

 This time, she was planning to visit the clinic herself. Maybe she would have the energy and time to do so on the weekend. But she needed to see a therapist. (Y/N) had begun to believe that she was truly going mad.

It was Friday already, one more night, that was it.

That sleep demon did not appear last night, and she dared to hope that he might leave her alone for another night as well. Maybe she finally stopped having such weird dreams. The bed felt softer, or perhaps it was the fatigue that was pulling her into a deep slumber. (Y/N) could barely care, her eyes closed and she embraced the bliss of sleep.

She was in amongst lavender fields. The ground was green, but as far as her eyes could see, she, it was stretches of purples and some occasional patches of green. The sky was golden with a parting kiss with the sun. It had been a while since she had dreamt something like this— peaceful, the place she wanted to be, a place she could lay down and forget the rest. An upward slope in the field ended with a single tree on the top. This place felt familiar. It felt like home. She wished to make her way to that tree on the top. But it was like she was waiting…But for whom?

Instead, (Y/N) lay on the ground, surrounded by the blooms and the gentle breeze teasing her skin. It was all peaceful for a while until she felt the dip on the grass beside her, and then, the warmth over her torso. It was all dark with her eyes closed, but when they opened...

(Y/N) gasped. That was all she could manage with his thumb pressing over her lips. It was him. It was him, and she was no longer in some idyllic lavender field she was trapped in her room, on her bed, unable to move, or even speak with him hovering over her like a true sleep paralysis demon.

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real it’s not real, it’s not real

It’snotrealit’snotrealit’snotreal

Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as she felt her heart threatening to break free of her ribcage. Perhaps that was how she would die. 

He was the same man, he could see him clearly now. With his eyes still veiled under those dark goggles. 

Fuck.

Sleep demons weren’t supposed to be this attractive. She blinked, feeling the warmth of her tears as they escaped the corner of her eyes.

The fear was visceral, if she were able to move, she knew that she could at least attempt to hurt him, just to get away. With him inches away from her, she felt trapped. Like, the world around did not matter, would not matter. He had this…aura around him. Magnificent but chilling.

“Why would you do that? Why would you deny this, me?”

He spoke, but she felt it in every part of her brain. As if they were connected, somehow. (Y/N) was terrified, sure, but she was confused as well. His touch felt like sunlight after storm, his voice was a haunting melody to her senses. It was a frightening combination but it was real, more real than anything she had felt all her life. 

And then, he removed those dark shades, revealing his eyes. Dark, deep eyes that had a sense of recognition and melancholy. And something else…it felt almost old—ancient almost. A yearning she never wanted to dig deep into, the kind of confidence that came with knowledge and power.

Perhaps she was hypnotised, maybe transfixed. Or probably, she had gone truly mad. Why else would she flutter her eyes close in anticipation? Her lips almost prickled, waiting to feel the softness once more. A potent drug that could make anyone an addict. It was beyond reason, beyond fear. The fear remained, but this was not new either. It simply reared its head up.

“You feel it too, don’t you? You have felt it all your life.”

She felt his breath, she could almost feel his lips move. He was so close, and yet just out of her grasp. Like the feeling. The answers she had searched for all her life. 

What was she searching for?

The answers felt just out of her grasp and—

She tasted heaven again. The warmth, the moisture, the feeling that made her toes curl. If it was a dream, it felt more real than the reality itself and if he was real, then perhaps she had never known anything more real before. 

Had she been so isolated, so alone that one dreamy kiss awoke something in her that she did not even know existed? It was arousal, yes, but there was something more to it. It was like she could feel her blood rushing a bit faster, her heart beating just right.

Like she was awake.

"Don't do this, they will come after you if you go."

And she was awake again. His words reverberated in her mind, though she did not even remember him talking. Heck, she remembered nothing beyond that maddening kiss. 

How did he know...Wait, wasn't he a dream?

A peaceful dawn of the weekend.

But her heart was sinking. It was like she had tasted a divine nectar and it was snatched from her after just a touch of the tongue. It made her yearn more. The realisation of how miserable she felt because all her life, she wanted to be understood, to belong, even to the point of desperation. She wanted to be part of the very crowd she unconsciously looked down upon. They appeared so…puppet-like. They had had no proper thought, nothing out of a box, a system. They were almost unreal to her. She pitied them initially. But eventually, she came to envy them. They did not feel that something was wrong, they were happy, they were living, and she was the one observing, turning more disillusioned with each passing day. Questioning. Trying to find a purpose. 

She had all the reasons to go and see a therapist. She did not. Somehow, she could not bring herself to do that. His eerie, unexplained warning rang in her mind.

Instead, she lay on the bed for a while, for a long while, thinking. By the time she was fresh out of the bath, watering her plants, it was afternoon. Her stomach had ceased to grumble, and it was no good news, not with the slight chest pain that came with bad eating habits. Begrudgingly, (Y/N) boiled some eggs and cut some fruits. The leftover spongecake would complete her brunch.

The weekends were a mindless loop, like the weekdays. But (Y/N) felt trapped inside her apartment. A safe trap at that.

She was messed up, wasn’t she?

Feeling trapped and oddly safe at the same time in her own home?

Maybe a walk outside would do her some good.

It was not a pleasant day by any means. Cold, cloudy, gusty wind slapping on the face, ruining people’s hair. Yes, her favourite kind of weather. All she needed was—oh, there it was! A flash of thunder in the sky followed by rumbling. (Y/N) leaned against the bench, casually observing as life went by.

She had seen people marvel at nature, at architecture. She loved this weather, she really did, but she never could truly ‘marvel’. She was sick of this feeling, something in her inherently felt wrong, misplaced. She could never marvel at things, get all those morality and principles fed into her system. They never felt to be…genuine. She felt like the odd one out, no one would understand her. They could not even empathise with her, although all her life, she could feel the aura around people, their energies, their perception, their reasonings, she understood them, to some extent. But what she failed at, was to make sense of the world she was in. And it left her desperate, gasping, tormented.

But the moment she felt his lips on hers, she felt alive. The emotions, the reactions in her felt so real, so intense, it was like something shifted in her. She felt thrilled, truly thrilled by something. Because it felt so real, it felt exactly what she had been searching for all her life, through meaningless relationships, friendships, and interactions.

Nothing felt this deep, this real.

She could not go to a therapist. She was afraid that if she went, she would lose those…dreams and would never see him again. He scared her, true, but she craved him beyond explanation. Like, it was always meant to be. She was meant to crave him. 

It was already pouring when she was walking back to her apartment. (Y/N) rushed through the streets, bumping and brushing against umbrellas and people. 

The moment she stepped inside her apartment, she was ready to carefully keep her shoes away so that they would not dirty the carpeted floo—

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. How could this be?

There were no muddy footprints. Heck, there was not a single trace of wetness on her clothes, or mud, or anything that would indicate that she rushed through a bustling street while it was pouring. Peering out, it still was raining cats and dogs.

“What’s going on here?”

She checked her arms and back, anywhere she was expected to find dampness. She did not even have an umbrella. How could this be? She felt the rain on her clothes and skin, she felt the chills that came with it. But looking at herself now, it felt like a figment of imagination.

(Y/N)’s eyes kept wandering back to the windows. It was raining when she fell asleep.

And it was raining when she opened her eyes. The heavy downpour was now reduced to pitter-patter. But that was just the background noise. Her focus shifted to the familiar figure looming over her. This time, she could move, she realised it the moment his lips descended on hers and her fingers went instinctively for his hair. 

He mumbled something like ‘I missed you’ but she could not heed that. Not when his lips devoured hers. 

“You aren’t even real.” (Y/N) whispered it out. An attempt to keep herself grounded in reality. 

His eyes had a strange gleam to them. Something akin to a menacing amusement. It reminded her of her fear. But well he was tenfold more attractive with that smirk and there went down her self-preservation. She was doomed to die alone, perhaps in the hands of this sleep demon.

“Oh, honey…I am more real than anything you have felt all your life.”

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke, words seeping into her brain, and she knew they were to stay with her for the rest of her life.

Yes, you do feel too real though…

She wished she could delve into it more, but how could she, when his hands were all over her? They cupped her breasts just right, with no trace of uncertainty— unlike the touches she had felt before with her previous lovers. As if just doing things for the sake of it. No, with him, she felt seen and appreciated. Like he was invested, like he was experiencing her, not just looking. She felt the tenderness with which his lips traced her skin, as he had craved her, yearned for her as she had yearned for this…something so real, it tasted nothing like all the realities she had ever known.

His lips measured her through her skin till her breasts, stopping for her buds. And she felt like they should have been on wet grass, underneath jasmine blooms on a full moon night, be the inspiration for the poets who could make the ink and paper make love. He paid attention to each of her buds, until they were erect with need, like the wetness between her thighs, it was almost uncomfortable, added to his warmth. 

His fingers never felt intrusive, instead, they were like the guests her walls had been waiting for all day. They slid in through a smooth motion, and her walls clamped around his digits as they rubbed through her essence and her fluttering walls, delving deeper, bending just at the right angle and meeting her eyes the moment they pressed against the sweet spot that made electricity run through her veins. 

If this was a dream, then perhaps it was the universe’s twisted way to compensate her. For (Y/N) never felt so loved, never felt such intense attention, like he was studying her to be a devotee, not a puppeteer. But wasn’t he one already? Moving her as he wished, parting her legs, digging his fingers deeper—knuckles buried into her whispering wetness until she sprung into a violent bloom, shuddering, moaning into his mouth, then his thumb as it entered her mouth and sat on her tongue. 

His parting kiss was sweeter than the dreams of lavender fields. Her eyes were already closing when she felt him untangling himself from her arms. The separation scratched her painfully, but the pull of slumber was so deep, the dreams were so sweet…

The digital columns on her computer screen stared at her. The dreams were turning vivid. Every night, she would feel him, touch him. Experience a strange burn that felt like a cremation of her soul. It was ironic, how the filthy acts felt like purification. If the dreams were her prison, she would be a willing prisoner. He was her night jasmine. Haunting her all day but letting her experience him only under the veil of the night. The darkness was their shroud of secrecy and he was the fire that consumed her. Burned her desires, put her heart and body on fire and consumed parts of her soul.

“What are you doing?”

(Y/N) flinched at the familiar cold voice. Of course, her boss had to come at the time she was zoned out.

“Uh, completing the table?”

“Yeah, I can see that. Technology hasn’t reached the level of completing by itself, so you must work on it. Like a regular employee, you know. Or do you think you are entitled to free money?”

This asshole…

“No, Mr Rick, I am not. I will take care of it.”

The man squared his shoulders, lips curling into a snarl.

“I need it done by today itself.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but one tilt of his head made it clear that it was either this or her job. Well, rent was expensive in the city.

“I will complete it, Sir.”

His lips turned up into a cold smile “Thank you miss (L/N)”

And with him, went away her night’s sleep. She won’t be going home at all, it seemed. But there was still some hope if she started now. With a sigh and popping some gum into her mouth, she straightened up in her chair and cracked her neck. 

Back to work.

By lunchtime, she could see light at the end of the tunnel. But she needed her dose of caffeine and some food in her stomach too. It was a pleasant break away from the headache-inducing work. She hated the monotonous computer screen, something in her felt repulsed by it. But it paid for her expenses so…

At least her colleague’s rambling was far not as bad. Not that (Y/N) ever was truly invested in small talk. The question she had almost never concerned the weather, was…’Why’. Why were they doing what they were doing? Why were things like this, or that? Was the true purpose of existence only to work, and go home? Be born, study, work, reproduce, work, die and then? Repeat? It felt like a factory, a prison to her. Sure, there were things to marvel at and entertain but that was it. They were small dopamine dosages. 

But recently, other than the toe-curling hot sleep paralysis demon haunting her, something else had been on her mind. One of her colleagues basically vanished. He was arrested and then? Nobody seemed to even care. Nobody spoke of him after that day.

“Do you have any news of Brad?”

Her colleague frowned at that.

“Brad?”

“Yes, like, our colleague, Brad.” (Y/N)  stated the obvious.

“Who's Brad?”

—---

Was she seriously losing it?

Was she past a sitting with a psychologist?

Was her place in some institution?

At this point, all the cubicles seemed identical.

Focus. Focus on the numbers.

She remembered Brad’s cubicle number. There had been no new employee who had joined in the department recently so that cubicle should be empty. Thoughts raced in her mind as (Y/N) rushed towards Brad’s cubicle. Reaching his cubicle, she walked into it, expecting it to be empty but, there was already another man sitting there. He had Brad’s hair and his eyes but…he wasn’t Brad. No, not at all.

“Oh, hi, (Y/N), how may I help you?”

“Uh, where’s—”

Wait, how did he know her name?

“How do you know my name?”

The man chuckled incredulously “What do you mean, we’ve been working in the same department for months.”

“Wh–What?”

She took a step back when he rose from his seat “Are you alright? You seem pale.”

“Wh–where’s Brad?”

The man had no trace of recognition “Who Brad? (Y/N) you are sweating…”

She gulped and shook her head. She felt nauseous. “No, I’m good…Need some sleep I guess.”

“You do not look well, why don’t you take the day off?”

She shook her head, managing a shaky smile “I’m good, thanks.”

She rushed back to her cubicle, avoiding the curious glances of her co-workers.

—---

The empty rows of dark cubicles along with the dull lighting above had an eerie effect on the visual of the workspace. The otherwise silent space echoed with the subtle sound of (Y/N) typing away on her computer. It was already one in the morning, and her home was a thirty-minute drive away. Oh, and the best part was, she wasn’t even close to being done yet. 

At this point, she was losing focus on the task. Whatever had happened in the office had left her shocked. 

Was she losing it?

How come no one remembered Brad? What was wrong with people? She even checked the entry data, there was no trace of Brad. Not anywhere. Like he never existed.

There was either something very, very wrong with her…

Or there was something very, very wrong with the world.

Rubbing her palm over her face, (Y/N) leaned away from the computer. The sickly white body, the keyboard, and the stagnant screen made her uneasy. Standing up, (Y/N) stretched her limbs a bit. She needed to wash her face, or she would drop dead.

It was wonderful how a few splashes of cool water could make someone feel so much better, or refreshed. (Y/N) felt much lighter. Though she was still disturbed regarding whatever was going on with the case of Brad and—

“Shit!”

She rushed to her screen, which was blank, other than one green dot blinking. She was stupid enough to not have even saved hours worth of work and they were probably gone!

“Fuck, go back!” No matter how hard she pressed the ‘ESC’ button, the screen remained black with one glowing green dot blinking. She felt mocked by it. 

Long day?

The green dot typed out. Her mind instantly took her back to the nightmarish evening a few days ago.

“No, no, no…” she pressed to switch the device off. But nothing happened.

Stop trying to switch it off. Listen to me. Do not mention Brad. They will know.

“What the hell is happening?” her voice cracked at this point. 

The events until now made no sense, she could not grasp but it felt almost like a computer glitch. A glitch in reality. Taking several steps back, she rushed to collect her things. 

Fuck it!

She was out of this place.

—---

(Y/N) had already prepared another resume. She was getting fired, there was no way that her boss would believe her, or give her another chance. She had spent the remaining hours drafting a new resume for herself. 

“(Y/N), Mr Rick wants the report submitted to his table.” One of her colleagues informed her as soon as she entered the office. 

Of course…

Nodding at her, (Y/N) made her way into her cubicle. Looking at the computer, everything that had happened a few hours before seemed like a dream. The device was switched off, even if she distinctly remembered fleeing from her office without switching the computer off. After starring contest with the device for what felt like hours, she gathered her courage and switched it on. She was being fired anyway, so who cared? The creepy computer would be left behind. Like this shitty place.

Perhaps a less stressful job would be better for her. Maybe a barista? A receptionist? No, they won’t pay her—

It felt like the screen was staring back at her. The columns that should have been empty due to what had happened last night…were filled?

(Y/N) checked it, several times, again, and again. No mistakes. The table was completed without any correction required. At least there was nothing her eyes could catch.

“(Y/N), I think I asked the files to be submitted!”

She jumped at the voice, Mr Rick stood at the entrance of her cubicle. At her stunned silence, he rolled his eyes and moved towards the computer, pushing her away. It was his turn to be stunned.

“It’s...completed.” 

“Yes, it is” (Y/N) added, still in disbelief.

—----

It was raining again. As the droplets descended in a rush, mingling into the flowing water, (Y/N) sat by her window, eyes on the glass despite the obscured view, only flashes of blue, green and red remained visible with the street and traffic beneath. It was late, but she refused to fall asleep. Instead, lighting up a cigarette, she leaned against the cushioned surface of her couch. As the cigarette stick hung from her mouth, she let her mind wander off, counting all the bizarre events that had followed her in the last few weeks.

At first, she thought that it all started ever since her…dreams but, then, she realised that she had been having those dreams for months.

It may not be her sleep paralysis demon. Unless…

(Y/N) sat up, realising that it all began after she started to… acknowledge him, interact with this…thing, this man, whatever or whoever he was. He was a dream, of course, he was, but he felt so real, and the recent events turned it more difficult for her to decipher what was real, and what wasn’t. She glanced at her computer. (Y/N) had not plugged that device in since that evening. The television wasn’t working, the weather was turning worse and sleep had turned into an experiment for her. 

She sat by the window, exhaling the fumes, inhaling and exhaling. Thinking, watching…Thinking…

Turned out, she did fall asleep. But there was no trace of the man this time. She woke up, drooling, with the sun rays falling over her eyes, disrupting the blissful slumber she was granted after a trying week. The cigarette was only half-finished, but extinguished and kept safely on the ashtray. She did not even remember doing that. But then again, she did not remember falling asleep either. 

—-----

The day at work had been particularly draining. Though on the streets, passing through the crowds, or even silent alleys, she thought she saw him—the man who haunted her dreams and her mind like some life-altering enigma. But every time she would turn around, he would be gone, as if he were nothing but a wisp of her imagination. 

One night without a sight or touch of his and this is what she was reduced to? Her mind bringing him up in random public places? Just out of reach, out of sight, driving her mad.

Oh, wasn’t she already mad, though? 

(Y/N) scoffed at herself. Her pathetic self, unable to build any real relationship, unable to accept what was being given to her, searching for something event she did not know or could name. Just searching, like a lunatic. Waiting, for what? For whom?

She was tormented and she did not even know the source, the cause, the end of the road. Heck, she did not even know the road.

All that was left was to accept what she saw. All that was left, after a long, tiring day of meaningless toil was to fall on the comfort of her bed, be thankful that she at least had that.

.

He returned this time. When she wasn't expecting him to. She wanted to laugh at herself. Like a silly schoolgirl, her heart leapt at the sight of the familiar dark coat. She felt underdressed in front of him. Laying there, in nothing but her bedclothes. But something told her that he appreciated this.

“Did you miss me?”

All thoughts evaporated, there was no doubt left when his touch felt so warm, so real, his hand sprawled over her thighs, the comforter long tossed away while he spread apart her legs, A delicious smirk curled his lips at the absence of any undergarment. An answer to his question. She could not wait. She missed him. She missed him like water and air. Cupping his cheeks, (Y/N), pulled him into a kiss—desperate to feel his lips, desperate for the same awakening feeling his touch ignited. 

And he followed gladly, pulling her closer, hand slithering on the back of her neck as he pulled her into a sitting position flushed against him. And she wish they were closer. Skin to skin, soul to soul. Melting into one another. 

But it did feel like milk and honey when his lips descended to her neck, her heaving chest, over her stomach until they reached her womanhood. He was a man starving—why else would he put her legs over his shoulder? Even through the layers of clothing, she could feel the strength they carried while his lips explored her dewy folds. He made her cry out and twist, tug at his hair and see the dancing stars right in front of her eyes. And yet she wanted more. Needed more.

When he faced her again, lips glistening, smelling like her desire, she knew she was an addict, even though it was his eyes that gleamed with a promise to wreck her the sweetest way possible. 

“Open your mouth”

His voice was a siren’s call and she was a willing sailor. Dreamy eyes looked up to him as if she were the poet, and he, the moon. Perhaps he was the moon. The way he glowed, draping himself in a black attire. For him, she could be a poet. For him, she could be a sailor, it meant seeing him one more time.

She opened her mouth, a twinge of uncertainty, though, still rang somewhere in her brain. He recognised it, she could see his eyes soften.

“What are you?” 

She was breathless when his fingers danced along her opening once more like the tides soaring up—-high, higher and higher until they crashed—tremors shook her form, as she realised what it was to be loved the right way between the sheets. 

“I am what you have been searching for.” 

He replied moments before dipping to fuse his lips with hers once more—a perfect fit where she could taste his tongue and her essence. She found a home in his arms, the heat in his eyes had kept her warm through the cold reality.

“But aren’t even real.” Her tears came in silence while her body still savoured the pleasure.

“Oh, honey…only if you try to know…”

—----

His words echoed every now and then in her mind, all through the day while she waited for the night. He would not visit her dreams every night though, and it made her crave him more. Even if she saw the devotion in his eyes, she felt like he was the deity, and she was the devotee…offering herself to him every night. 

He was the night jasmine, blooming at the darkest hours of the night, and just dawn would kiss the sky, he would be gone, the blooms falling on the soil, spreading essence until the soil smelled like the flowers. He haunted her similarly—- she could feel the ghost of his touches when he was gone, the finger in her mouth, against her fluttering walls, the warm and folds—it was like his essence was fused with hers, like he left something of him behind every time. 

She had other dreams too—snippets, images, someone speaking, not him, someone else. Saying things that went over her head.

‘Integral Anomaly’ 

Something that came up often, but she had no idea what or who it was. A deviation in the system? But that would be something to do with computers. The dreams never made sense. 

But (Y/N) relied on her experience, and if experience had taught her anything, it was that her dreams had seldom been ‘meaningless’. What they meant, she had no idea. But they had to mean something. Even the attractive sleep demon. Well…she did not like to ponder much on his existence.

In his dark eyes, she could drown. Give up this life and live in his realm. It was a fleeting thought that would be followed by dreamy sighs, but (Y/N) knew, that ultimately, he was just a dream. A dream that felt disturbingly more real than anything ‘real’ she had ever known. But that was it. He ‘felt’ real, but there was no way that he was, real (Right?).

“What do I call you?”

 She asked one night, feeling particularly vulnerable at the realisation that he had never taken off a single layer of his clothing, while he had her sprawled for him, all bare, twisting and arching as he played her like his favourite instrument, creating a symphony, eliciting the most sinful of sounds and words. 

She panted with his fingers buried deep inside her, thumb pressing on her engorged clit just the right way, her dress bunched up, showing parts of her breasts. He did not answer her immediately, instead, fit her lips with his and pressed his fingers harder on that sweet spot that made her mewl out for him.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she had a feeling that this was no dream, that he was real. Somehow, anyhow, but he was. But if she were to believe and acknowledge that, nothing else made sense. It threatened her sanity.

“Neo.”

He finally replied, after tipping her through the edge, letting the pleasure crash on her like hungry waves while his thumb slipped into her mouth again. Somehow, this act made the whole experience more intense.

Her dazed, blinking eyes must have given away her confused state of mind, he smiled at that, kissing her forehead with the tenderness she had never known before him.

“That’s my name– Neo.”

Neo…

The name struck with her. Haunted her like his voice and touches. Every morning, she would wake up and look in the mirror, hoping to find a trace of him, any evidence that could tell her that he was real. That could break her out of the hypnotic effect he had on her. 

He was magnetic, addictive and she knew her ultimate demise. The very staircase that was spiralling down to an abyss of madness and she was descending it, doing nothing to stop herself.

How long had it been since she first acknowledged him?

(Y/N) could not remember that. 

A month, a week?

Weeks? Months?

How could she care about any of it with his face buried between her thighs? Tongue and lips fueling a fire that was consuming her in its slow, agonising flame. She wanted more, she wanted to scream out to him to undress and let her see him as he saw her—- all bare, vulnerable and exposed.

But how could she demand from a dream itself? A lucid dream, a piece of her imagination giving her what she had craved all her life. Her eyes fluttered closed when she came crashing through the flames, it licked her like it wanted her in ashes. And perhaps she would be turned into ashes under him. Nothing to complain though.

She felt his thumb over her lips again, a silent gesture, and like every time, she parted her lips— eyes closed, so trusting, a dream was a dream, and she could be and do anything in a dream world.

He wasn’t even—

It was a different feeling this time. Something cold and tiny that stuck to her tongue moments before his thumb pressed it further down.

(Y/N)’s heart dropped to her stomach with a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes in a snap, finding those dark eyes on hers already. The fear she had almost forgotten rushed back in her system with vengeance, she wanted to spit out whatever he had given her, it felt something like a pill. But she had gulped it down already, he made her gulp it down.

“It’s time to wake up (Y/N)...”

Spoke his honeyed voice.

And suddenly, it was freezing cold---everything convulsed in and around.

****

Phew! Completed this finally, the idea had been with me for a while and thanks to my mutuals for helping me with it. It's still unedited, please excuse the errors.

[discoscoob]

THINKING ABOUT YANDERE NEO…

ִ ˙ ✩°˖💿 ⋆｡˚ A shameless ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ ripoff from your resident Harry Styles fan :)

After forcibly removing you from The Matrix, Neo’s hope that you would eventually learn to accept your new life in the real world never comes to fruition. So he has to try alternative measures.

His idea comes from the training programs but he tries something a bit more ambitious, he’s The One so he can practically do whatever he wants. He creates a whole simulated suburban town, designed like the 1950s and he keeps you plugged into it. Your mind is wiped of everything that came before and all you know is this simulation, you believe it to be the real world, you believe Neo is your husband and you’re happily married but you keep having such vivid dreams, where you live a completely different life (the life you had in the matrix) in a completely different world that is far more advanced and you have a successful career, you tell Neo about these dreams every morning before he “leaves for work” (unplugs from the simulation) and he acts amused telling you how absurd they sound.

One day you’re running errands when you see Neo’s car parked outside a motel. You watch him enter one of the rooms and your mind thinks the worst, that he is having an affair. Determined to confront him you storm over to the motel and barge into the room you saw him disappear into, prepared to find him with another woman only to be greeted by an empty room. Your feet quickly rush to the bathroom but that’s empty too. Feeling confused you come back to the room and notice the phone hanging off the hook and carefully put it back while your mind races wondering if you were imagining things. You startle when the shrill sound of the phone ringing echos through the room, making your heart leap out your chest. You quickly answer it and everything goes dark.

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar dark room, you can feel the cold air against your skin as your blurry eyes try to look at your surroundings. It’s hard, your eyes hurt, you’re unaware of how long it’s been since you last used them. You look down, realising you’re strapped down to what looks like a dentist chair, you panic and start crying out for help. You notice all these strange ports on your skin with wires attached, you feel like you’re in a nightmare. Then Neo comes running into the room, realising you managed to escape the simulation. He soothes you, telling you this is just a dream as he plugs you back in.

Once you’re back inside the simulation, you wake up confused, the ‘nightmare’ still fresh in your mind and Neo is there ready to feed you some lie. You fainted in front of a motel he tells you but your memory tells you otherwise, you feel confused, wondering where the nightmare started and reality ended.

The next day while Neo is “at work” you revisit the motel room, it looks just like it did in your “dream” and the phone is sat on the beside table. You sit on the bed and hesitantly lift the phone off the hook and put it to your ear after taking a deep breath. Nothing happens. All you hear is the dial tone. With a sigh you put the phone back down and shake your head, convinced it was all just a dream you return home and your life with Neo continues as normal for a while again…

[feinv]

neo trains you to be his successor as "the one"

🧋.

this and ur other ask got me thinking thoughts…thoughts…

neo anderson x f!reader. a lil pervy, a lil yandere…

— emotional manipulation. sexual fantasies.

pre-matrix!neo who had the biggest and juiciest crush on you, his fellow coworker. he would often catch himself peering out his cubicle when he was supposed to be working, staring at you, observing your every move. how you walked around in your pretty outfits, chit chatting here and there with other colleagues, or how you would smile and laugh at something, his pupils turning into heart shapes at the sight.

pre-matrix!neo who was too awkward for his own sake to approach you. you were probably into self-confident and extroverted guys who could take the lead in any room they walked in. guys who were experienced in life. and who was he? he was just a dude who was always the odd one, the weirdo.

matrix!neo who had a little huge ego boost after finding out he was “the one” and people literally dreamed of at least touching his arm. meanwhile he still dreamed of you. he knew you were definitely happy with your life, despite it being just an illusion. unplugging you just so he could have you by his side was a selfish thing to do. but he was always creative.

matrix!neo created a hyper-realistic program to replace the never ending thoughts of you in his head. he wasn’t doing anything bad. people fantasized about other people all the time, right? his methods were just a bit enhanced, that’s all.

matrix!neo would soon awfully regret his decision because the program was way too realistic. he was already a man obsessed, but seeing you the way he never actually did…it messed with his head in so many levels. your smooth skin, the soft curves of your body, every dip and slope, how your hands and legs wrapped around him, how your tight walls welcomed him like you were made for each other. your high pitched moans and the way you begged him made him crave you carnally. the last drop of any morals he had left in him literally evaporated. he had to get you, not caring how selfish it was anymore.

matrix!neo had fooled you that you were going to be the next special person. why? he had a feeling. and because he proved countless times that he was indeed “the one” you couldn’t help but believe his words and intuition. he would have you all to himself from the beginning to the end of the day, training you, teaching you stuff.

you were oblivious to his crush obsession on you, but you certainly weren’t oblivious to how handsy he was during trainings, pressing his whole body to yours, his hands lingering a bit longer than they should, his hot breath fanning against your skin because his face was always inches from yours.

soon you would start having weird and a bit…steamy dreams of matrix!neo, which made you nervous and flustered around him, your thoughts wandering to places you shouldn’t go. the guy was doing you a favor, preparing you for something big and you were distracted by your perverted mind. little did you know it was him who programmed those in the first place. but it didn’t matter, because soon enough he would make you his either way ;)

[waywardsummoner46]

Character List~

Finally! It is here. Hopefully this helps you all with any confusion or just in general.

What I’ll write: 

Polyamorous relationships (character x reader x character)

Plain old character x reader

sibling!character or parent!character x reader

Absolutely any AU at all, I’ll list a few ideas down the list

Any version of a character (yandere, dark, etc.)

Literally anything I guess, if it bothers me I’ll let you know!

For certain characters the requests will be strictly platonic however I’m still willing to write dark stuff for them too.

There’s also definitely some I’ve missed so if you don’t see a character or fandom you’re interested in, don’t be afraid to ask!

I’ll put a star next to the characters I’m most interested in writing just in case your struggling to choose!

So here’s the list itself (it’s a bit messy I’m afraid oops):

Supernatural

·        Dean Winchester (most versions of) *

·        Sam Winchester (most versions of) *

·        Castiel (most versions of) *

·        Gabriel *

·        Charlie Bradbury

·        Jack Kline (platonic)

·        Bobby Singer (platonic)

·        Rowena Macleod

·        Crowley

Grishaverse

·        Kaz Brekker

·        Inej Ghafa

·        Nina Zenik

·        Matthias Helvar

·        Jesper Fahey

·        Wylan van Eck

·        Aleksander Morozova *

·        Nikolai Lantsov *

·        Alina Starkov

·        Zoya Nazyalenski

·        Genya Safin

MCU

·        Peter Parker (all versions) *

·        Loki *

·        Doctor Strange *

·        Natasha Romanoff

·        Yelena Belova

·        Steve Rogers

·        Druig * 

·        Milo/Lucien

X-Men

·        Charles Xavier

·        Peter Maximoff

·        Jean Grey

·        Logan

Guardians of the Galaxy

·        Gamora

·        Nebula

Defenders

·        Matt Murdock

·        Jessica Jones

·        Kilgrave

·        Billy Russo*

Sherlock

·        Benedict Cumberbatch *

·        Henry Cavill

DC~

·        Joker (Barry Keoghan or Heath Ledger)

·        The Riddler (Paul Dano)

·        Superman

·        Poison Ivy

·        Harley Quinn

·        Dick Grayson (any version of) *

·        Jason Todd (any version of)

·        Tim Drake

·        Damian Wayne (platonic unless aged-up)

·        Wonder Woman

·       John Constantine (Keanu Reeves)

·       Anarky

Gotham

·      Jerome Valeska

·      Jeremiah Valeska *

·      Edward Nygma

The Witcher

·        Geralt of Rivia

·        Jaskier

Dune

·        Paul Atreides *

·        Channi

Twilight~

·        Jasper Hale - Major Whitlock (the fan concept of a different, more dominant personality for him interests me a lot so...) *

·        Alice Cullen

·        Aro

Doctor Who

·        Ten

·        Eleven

The Boys

·        Soldier Boy

Divergent

·        Tobias Eaton

·        Tris Prior

Harry Potter

·        Tom Riddle *

·        Marauders Era!Remus Lupin *

·        Marauders Era!Sirius Black

·        Newt Scamander

Scream

·         Billy Loomis

·         Stu Macher

The Maze Runner

·         Thomas

·         Newt - Crank!Newt

Once Upon A Time

·         Peter Pan *

Star Wars

·         Kylo Ren

·         Anakin Skywalker

·         Luke Skywalker

·         Leia Organa

Star Trek

·         Khan Noonien Singh

Throne of Glass (please for the love of god request for this!!!! If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it!)

·        Rowan Whitethorn *

·        Aelin Galathynius *

·        Aedion Ashryver

·       Dorian Havilliard (with or without collar) *

·       Manon Blackbeak *

·       Ansel of Briarcliff

·       Asterin Blackbeak

·       Elide Lochan

·       Lorcan Salvaterre

·       Fenrys Moonbeam

·       Lysandra

·       Nesryn Faliq

·       Sam Cortland

The Cruel Prince

·       Cardan Greenbriar *

·        Jude Duarte

Percy Jackson and Related

·        Piper McLean

·        Hazel Levesque

·        Nico di Angelo

·        Leo Valdez *

The Mortal Instruments

·       Jace Herondale

American Horror Story

·       James Patrick March *

·       Tate Langdon

·       Kai Anderson

Teen Wolf

·       Stiles Stilinski - Nogitsune *

Caraval

·       Legend *

·       Jacks, The Prince of Hearts *

·       Donatella Dragna

·       Scarlett Dragna

Walker

·       Cordell Walker

My Bloody Valentine

·       Tom Hanniger

Cry Wolf 2005

·       Tommy Jordan

Peaky Blinders

·       Tommy Shelby

Gilmore Girls

·        Dean Forester

Good Omens

·        Crowley (Nanny Ashtoreth)*

·        Aziraphale*

Little Women

·       Theodore “Laurie” Laurence

The Matrix

·       Neo *

·       Trinity

Brooklyn Nine Nine

·       Rosa Diaz

·       Jake Peralta

·       Gina Linetti

Kingdom of the Wicked

·       Emilia di Carlo

·       Wrath

·       Lust

A Court of Thorns and Roses (still reading, will add more characters as I go on)

·    Rhysand

·    Feyre

·    Lucien

·    Nesta

·    Mor

·    Azriel

·    Cassian

·    Amren

House of the Dragon

·    Daemon Targaryen

·    Rhaenyra Targaryen

[therealvinelle]

Oh! Okay so what if Elana Gilbert and Bella Swan swap places, (like, swap their brains i guess, so their friends and family still think theyre the same) what would happen to them? Would Elana survive Edward’s affections? Would Bella react well to Stefan and Damon? (I kno you only saw some of the show, but i think you saw all the seasons Elana is human, and thats what matters.)

Hm, well the vampires from The Vampire Diaries are human in every way that counts, they're essentially sexier humans with a funky diet.

Elena is in love with Stefan for Stefan, his vampirism is just a facet of him. Edward will be as horrifying to her as a Twilight vampire normally is to humans.

Bella, meanwhile, is in love with Edward for all the wrong reasons. She's not going to fall for Stefan and Damon.

What happens to Twilightified Elena

Depends on when Elena is thrown into Twilight. And on when it is for Elena as well, is it at the beginning of TVD? Because if so, then she's mourning her parents and doesn't know about anything supernatural.

If so, then Elena has a terrible time because she must mourn for her parents in this world where no one knows they died, in fact the internet tells her they never existed in the first place, and there's this well-meaning stranger who wants to father her in their place. The angst would be unreal.

But, Elena of canon wanted to tough it out and stay her partying self, even if only on the surface, so she'd become best friends with Jessica and Lauren, and go with them to every party imaginable.

Somehow or other she loses the Yandere simulator, and is eaten by Edward.

If we take Elena from the end of season 2, then this is an Elena who knows about the supernatural. Bodyswaps are a thing in TVD, so she's stunned to find it happened to her and worried about Bella Swan, but she's got her bearing.

Or so she thinks.

Turns out, the year is 2005.

She tries to get in contact with someone, anybody, from her own world. She searches for the Salvatores, for witches, and in a final last act of desperation she puts on an ad on craigslist to get Elijah.

There's no trace of any of them. Not even when she gets desperate enough to post "Petrova döppelganger looking for original vampire" on her myspace.

Nothing, not even Klaus, just silence.

More terrifyingly yet, it appears Mystic Falls doesn't exist anymore.

It's a terrified Elena Gilbert who walks into Forks High the day after.

She knows at a sight that there's something wrong with the Cullens. When Edward spends an entire hour glaring at her for daring to exist, she is officially creeped out.

Elena returns home very scared that day.

She's in a new place, she doesn't know how to get home, and there are terrifying people at her school who seem to have it out for her.

She spends the following week confirming that everything she ever knew has simply ceased to exist.

Then Edward returns to school after a week's absence, and asks a series of questions aimed at finding out who she is and why she came to Forks.

Elena starts putting two and two together.

Of three things, she is absolutely certain.

One, reality has been rewritten. The people and places in Elena's life no longer exists, nor does Elena herself for that matter.

Two, no one in this world apart from Elena herself appears to be aware that this has happened.

Three, the one other anomaly in this world is the Cullens. They're clearly not human, and act not unlike pod people than everybody else, in fact they interact with no one. Except Elena herself. Who is being singled out by them.

Elena comes to the terrifying conclusion that the Cullens are an unknown species, a powerful magical one, capable of rewriting the laws of reality.

And she doesn't know if she's an accident, if she's Neo misbehaving in the Matrix, or if this reality marble was created to entrap her specifically.

She decides she's had enough.

She has no powers, no resources, no contacts.

What she does have is her wits.

And, possibly, the element of surprise.

Armed with nothing, Elena gets in the truck and drives to the Cullen house, having gotten the address somehow, and made sure to tell Charlie, Jessica, Lauren, Mike, and her Myspace where she's going.

There, she marches up their porch, knocks on their door, and asks to speak with them.

The Cullens, on their end, are stunned.

From their point of view, this is the anonymous singer who's been tormenting Edward. Yes, she has a name and all that, but they don't know anything about her.

More, she should have no interest in them.

Wanting to appear in control of the situation, Elena calls them in to the living room for an honest conversation, all cards on the table.

Well shit, the Cullens say to themselves, Edward's singer had to be the one girl in North America who knows about vampires.

Now, I do believe Elena is too intelligent to blurt everything she knows immediately and lose her leverage.

No, she asks them if she was supposed to know or not.

The question makes perfect sense to her - is she an anomaly in the Matrix, could it be Jessica is in fact amnesia Caroline and Forks as a whole is actually just nu-Mystic Fall, or is it just Elena?

The Cullens, meanwhile, wonder how on earth this girl can think she was supposed to know she was Edward's singer and that they're vampires.

She may not know what she thinks she knows.

Carlisle tells her the truth. No, miss Swan, you were not supposed to know.

Taking this as confirmation that she's in the Matrix, Elena asks if there are others. She, of course, is wondering if there are other people, perhaps right here in Forks, either with amnesia or else keeping their heads low, who have been taken from the real world.

Or, more chillingly, if everyone is living fake lives in this fake world.

The Cullens, meanwhile, wonder what others she's talking about.

Carlisle takes the plunge. Either she knows what the word means or she doesn't, if she doesn't then she'll have nothing to google because this isn't known to humans at all, plus the word is only a rough translation of the Italian term.

"Other singers, you mean?"

Elena blinks.

Singers, like sirens?

The Cullens are terribly beautiful.

But... sirens?

She stows this away for future use.

Elena decides this conversation has been cryptic enough, and point blank tells the Cullens that she means people who don't belong in this reality at all.

I imagine there comes a point where Carlisle has to call Aro. The girl knows nothing about vampires, she thinks they're semi-harmless human-looking creatures that burn in the sun and can be killed by humans. She's not a problem in that regard.

So Aro gets a call from Carlisle, explaining how a human girl showed up on his doorstep claiming he had created an alternate reality, and that her world apparently has a different worldbuilding altogether.

Oh, and Carlisle's telepath son can't read her mind.

He is in Forks practically before Carlisle can hang up the call.

I imagine Elena gets to spend years as a human, because if the body of Bella Swan is somehow a link to another dimension, then altering that into another species might sever the link.

No, Elena, Aro, and Carlisle spend the following years in a Volterra lab, trying and failing to engineer a pathway back to her world.

In the end, if they're unsuccessful, Elena is turned into a vampire, and Aro has a jolly good time reading her memories from another dimension once she has the control to let her shields down.

Elena, who only ever wanted to be human and thought TVD vampires were too spicy to turn into, cries.

What happens to TVDified Bella

Bella somehow manages to feel guilty about not being Elena. This must all be her fault. Somehow.

An optimist as always, Bonnie dives headfirst into reversing whatever spell was put on her best friend.

She never succeeds, and both women are crushed by guilt over something not their fault.

Damon, I imagine, kills Bella sooner or later during a drunken outburst.

[arianadevareux]

What’s Next? (Writing List)

The request queue is currently:

- [Enchanted Imagine] Narissa pushes Edward through the portal where he finds Nancy (For SeasonOfTheWitch1507 on AO3)

- [Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory HCs] Wonka proposes (For groovy-lady)

- [Emma HCs] Emma Woodhouse as a bratty bottom (For anon)

- {Dogma HCs] Bartleby x Reader (For anon)

- [Dogma HCs] Dating Loki Pt. 2 (For anon)

- [MCU HCs] Loki x Masc-Presenting Genderfluid Reader (For trailoftheqilins)

- [Cobra Kai] Anything Amanda LaRusso (For anon) 

- [The Mummy] Something with Imhotep (For dumbass titty sprinkles)

- [The Mummy Headcanons] Rick x Reader (For anon)

- [MotOE HCs] Fem!S/O has a bad dream and wants to sleep with him. SFW + NSFW (S/O moved from France to England) (For queenguilettafirstlady)

- [LotR] Faramir NSFW Alphabet (For anon)

- [LotR] Merry NSFW Alphabet (For anon)

- [LotR Imagine] Boromir and Reader fall in love during the journey of the fellowship. Bonus if he lives. (For jazzybug163)

- [Star Wars HCs] Enric Pryde NSFW (For anon)

- [Sherlock Holmes] Spicy! Sherlock x Watson (For lolimepicsam)

- [Leverage HCs] Sophie being the team mom (OT3) (For the magnificentmx)

- [The Office HCs} Being best friends with Pam (For anon) 

- [The Good Place] Dom!Eleanor pegging Sub!Chidi (For lolimepicsam)

- [WandaVision HCs] Agatha Harkness Kinks (For mommymilks) 

- [WandaVision HCs] Wanda Maximoff Kinks (For mommymilks)

- [MCU Imagine] Natasha taming a bratty AFAB!reader with her electric batons (For mommymilks)

- [The Matrix HCs] Dating Neo (For anon)

- [Grace and Frankie Imagine] Grace being jealous when someone flirts with her S/O (For gracehansonownsme)

- [Mortal Kombat HCs] Fluffy Cole x Reader (For immasimp1983)

- [WandaVision Imagine] Agatha helping Fem!Afab!Reader through a bad mental health day, using her magic to cheer you up. Can be SFW or NSFW. (For mommymilks)

- [Into the Woods Imagine] The Wolf fights off an animal that’s attacking reader. (For anon)

- [FBaWtFT HCs] Newt Scamander SFW + NSFW Relationship

- [WandaVision Imagine] Yandere!Agnes x Fem!Reader - Full stalking while Agatha is under Wanda’s mind fuckery at the end (For mommymilks) 

- [WandaVision Imagine] Agatha using her guise as Agnes to stalk Fem!Reader until it’s time to pounce (For mommymilks) 

- [Alice in Wonderland Imagine] Reader tells Tarrant that they like how his eyes change and he gets all flustered (For 🦋 anon)

- [Enchanted HCs] Nathaniel x Reader Relationship SFW + NSFW (For cryptidsandcatacombs)

- [Black Widow Imagine] Fem!Reader being hunt and then caught by Natasha feat. tranq dart + consequences (look at the gif in the request, me) (For mommymilks)

- [Enchanted HCs] Giselle x Fem!Reader Sex HCs

- [Phantom of the Opera HCs] First time sleeping with the Phantom (For anon)

- [Inglorious Bastards HCs] Being married to Archie Hicox (For groovy-lady)

- [Sex Education Imagine] Crush on Mr. Hendricks Pt. 2 (For Lepredateurdartfurtif on AO3)

[essu-rwby-desu]

                                          Episode 2: Uncovered  

                               -SUPER LONG POST. SPOILERS-

*There may be typos, incorrect spelling, and bad grammar due to me trying to rush this and episode 3. Bare with me plz. The amount of gifs made for this was overkill and will lighten them up in the next post. Also, I will be referring to these posts as commentary since that’s what they mostly are and not reviews/reactions. Without further ado:

-Fade in from black-

~Ah Haaa ahhh ahhh Ahhh Ahhhhhhh~

So Cinder’s still alive. Not surprised tbh because of the intro.

Wait. So you’re telling me. That the vault to one of the Relics, a vault that has a gate to another dimension, is now wide open to walk in now? Oz, how about a little bit of house keeping?  Oh I don’t know, maybe have some thicker walls or something???

Welp. That’s a shame. Another one bites the Dust. Poor lady didn't deserve that fate.

“We need to take the Relic to Atlas?”

I said it before, poor child had barely escaped now they have to go back.

Blake ready to throw Weiss under the bus LOL. I felt some snark coming from her haha.

“Ex-Heiress, actually.” That volume one throw back.

YANG IS ON BOARD THE “THROW THE WEISS UNDER THE BUS” TRAIN. Poor Weiss LOL. 

Just look at her.  ¯\_(~‿^)_/¯

The Lantern can answer any questions? Any 3 questions? So it’s like. Knowledge is power kind of thing? I guess you could say that. The Lantern’s magic is quite. Enlightening.

JESUS FUCk, NORA PLEASE.

OH MY GOD, NORA PLEASE. Your Yandere is showing.

Nora has the best characterization. So full of energy. So full of Mood.

Yang in there, Yang.

Oscar, the MVP, is on board the “Throwing People Under the Bus” Train, now featuring Ozpin.

“Do you really think Leo was the first? That he didn’t say those exact same words to me? I’m sorry, but you have to understand my behavior is backed by experience.”

I have to say Oz has it rough. Having lived multiple times only to have close allies betray him, multiple times he implies. I don’t blame him for walling himself off from others. But at the same time, his approach could be. Better? I’m not saying he should entirely trust Team RWBY, but he should really tell them all the important details of, well, everything, if he’s to lead them to stopping Salem in whatever the fuck she plans to do with the Relics.

Also shout out to Aaron Dismuke for such great voice acting on this part for Oscar/Ozpin. The way he said “Do you really think Leo was the first?” shook me.

What’s really strange about this part is that Ozpin forgot about the Relic. Like it’s very important to keep an eye on this thing right? I found it surprising that he didn’t realize he no longer had it on him for such a long time. Sure, he might have been distracted, but I feel like his priorities were kind of “Relic first” ya know?

Wtf, he’s still hiding more shit??? Oscar what are you doing.

“Her name is Jinn”? 

WHO IS “HER”? AND “JINN” LIKE A DJINN? LIKE. A GENIE?

If there was ever a time for a more mature/vulgar dialogue for Team RWBY, 

It would be, RIGHT ABOUT NOW.

 BECAUSE:

ITS. FUCKING. GENIE.

TEN THOUSSANNNNNNNDDDDD YEARRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSS CAN LEAVE SUCHA CRICK IN THE NECK. RUBY ROSE, YOU AINT NEVER HAD A FRIEND LIKE ME.

(I think this is just me but her eyes make me feel uncomfortable. I think its the lashes..??? They look SUPER huge???)

ME TOO RUBY. ME TOO.

Qrow, you don’t have to pretend to be so modest. 

So where did Cinder end up exactly? She’s still somewhere in Mistral but this looks like a very Black Market-y kind of place. Also Idk why but she looks good in those clothe- I just remembered she killed someone for them. Hm.

?????SPIDERMAN????

“Looks like your life’s savings.” “It was somebodies.”

I have to admit, that was a good line. Cute indeed.

“Little Miss Malachite”. I’ll be honest I totally forgot about the Little Miss Muffet rhyme. BUT MALACHITE. I can only think of 2 other specific twins with that last name in this show! But it might just be a coincidence... 

So. Okay. What I don’t understand is why is Cinder looking for RWBYJNR. She knows Raven is the Spring Maiden, but she doesn’t know that Raven gave Yang the Relic. Cinder was tossed off the edge before Yang even got down there. If anything Cinder should be looking for Raven since she might be the one with the Relic.

Hm but I guess if Raven betrayed Cinder, then Cinder could assume Raven was working with the opposing party. Hmm...

I get she got her ass whooped by Raven and is a bit jumpy, but Cinder, you’re basically an Avatar. You could wipe the floor with anyone in that building. It was implied that her powers got weakened after she crawled out of the water, but by how much? And was that even the Maiden’s power or her own semblance?

Information trade is a business. SO SOMEONE MIGHT BE LOOKING FOR CINDER.

So the first I want to bring up (with the ordering not being important) are the Malachite twins, Melanie & Miltiades Malachite. I bring this up first cuz I feel like this is the unlikely people or group looking for Cinder. Despite, again, both Little Miss and the Twins share a “last name”, I doubt they’re linked in any way. I mean one is here in Mistral while the other in Vale. The only connection the Twins would have with Cinder is Roman. And of course we see Roman’s hat fly by Cinder in the OP.

SO SECOND, which I believe is on most people’s mind is NEO. The next closest, and probably the closest person connected to Roman is probably the one looking for Cinder, since she, too, has worked for Cinder. And we don’t know if Neo actually knows what happened to Roman since she flew off the airship. And the only 2 people that might know would be Ruby Rose or Cinder Fall. And perhaps Neo has been trying to track down Ruby all the way to Mistral. But now that Ruby and the gang are leaving the continent, but Cinder is still in town, it might be easier to go after Cinder instead.

Just bring back my Neopolitan.

OKAY SO. JINN. GOD OF LIGHT. 3 QUESTIONS. But luckily, there’s 2 left. 

So, one, what the fuck Oz? Why you lying? WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL OF THE QUESTIONS ALREADY BEING USED UP???

Two: WHAT WAS THE FIRST QUESTION??? 

Three: GOD OF LIGHT??? Is this God one of the Brothers Grimm???

Again, I feel bad for Oz, but at the same time I still think he should’ve said more about, again, everything, to prevent

This. I understand keeping some deep dark secrets to yourself, but if the world is at jeopardy, then mayyybeee some of those secrets should be brought into light??? I mean look, Yang Weiss and Blake are already, and literally, up in arms. If Oz had shared more, then this situation couldve been avoided, or at the very least, diffused.

Also, Team ‘Protect Ruby Rose at ALL COSTS”

If I were Qrow, and I too, were kept in the dark, I would want to know more about everything as well. And I’m sure he trusts his niece to do the right thing.

That was quite a visceral scream.

Oz, what were you even planning to do to Ruby? Like???

Also looks like Ruby took the Red Pill cuz welcome to the fucking Matrix.

-Shameless self made gif insert- but then again arent all these gif self made?

SALEM. 

DID OZ LOCK HER UP IN THE TOWER? WHO IS SALEM REALLY?? MAY YOU SUMMON ME A CHEEZBORGER??? 

THESE ARE MY 3 QUESTIONS, JINN. PLEASE. IM HUNGRY.

Aside from answering virtually any question and granting people an AR replay, can Jinn do any other sort of magical things? Cuz if she can conjur up some food.  👌 👌 👌

[sweetwolfcupcake]

A Secret Garden

Main Masterlist

Welcome to the secret garden of Wicked Indulgence. The themes remain dark, and the romance remains murky.

Only the universe and characters change.

Note-- This is not my main masterlist or the area of focus, I make no promises here. I cannot give it as much time as I give to my main masterlist. But this is a sweet indulgence.

So...Welcome to my secret garden, not popular like my other works but relevant to me and those who would indulge.

Be warned...This is no place for the faint-hearted or the sweet angels. Definitely not minors.

Banners, headers, and dividers by @cafekitsune

John Wick

An introduction

Drabbles

Daisies

Secrets We Keep

A Gentleman

Series

Wildflower-- Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII

Neo Anderson

An Introduction

One-Shots

Sweet Dreams

Loading...

Prompt Requests (Now Open)

Neo x Reader: Under The Skin

Collaborative Pieces

The Devil's Triangle(Yandere): Tex Johnson x Reader x John Wick (and John Constantine)

With the evil geniuses: @johnwickb1tsch

@treedaddymcpuffpuff and @tammykelly

More Under Construction

General Requests Are Closed

The banner and gifs are not created by me. The credit goes to their respective owners.

[discoscoob]

I keep seeing things irl called Neo, the name just keeps popping up everywhere. It got me thinking of yandere Neo changing the matrix so you start seeing his name everywhere like a subliminal message. If you don’t hear from me I have been kidnapped by Neo, don’t call the police I don’t want to be rescued.

[spaztique]

Pill Overdosed - An Essay On the Devolution of the Incel Community, From a Recovered “Love Shy.”

This was inspired by plunging down the rabbitholes of the incel community, the manosphere, and everywhere in-between.

Not long before writing this, there was a mass shooting incident in Plymouth, Devon. The shooter was a self-identified involuntary celibate, or incel for short: somebody who struggles with social skills to the point where they suffer depression from the fact they cannot develop a relationship to the point of romance. You’d think that merely not having the skills to attain a romance wouldn’t be much of an excuse to go postal, or maybe think he was an isolated case, but sadly, this isn’t: there was yet another mass murder not long prior at a sorority at UC Santa Barbara. Same motivation, same background. What gives?

I think I have a little authortiy to speak on the subject because, as I’ve said in my prior self-help writings, I also grew up without social skills. The only difference, of course, is I trained like crazy to fix that. Prior to 2010, I was a self-identified “love shy”: the pro-incel, back when the community was all about self-improvement and learning social skills to escape. After tons of hard work, I eventually got my first girlfriend in college, albeit we weren’t a very good match, seperated after it was clear we couldn’t work out, became a serial dater, and quietly graduated from the “love shy” label in 2011. I only bring this up now because, as I’ve noticed, things have changed a LOT in ten years.

Without diving deep into the histories of these concepts, there are three basic ideologies the modern incel falls into. Shorthand, they are known as the bluepill philosophy, the redpill philosophy, and the blackpill philosophy. They exist on a continuum, and the further you go down the spectrum, the more insane and nihilistic it becomes, eventually descending into despair, rage, misogyny, conspiracy thinking, and finding homicide and self-destruction.

The Bluepill Incel - The “Nice Guy”

Ah, the “nice guy.” The classic dogged friend-to-everyone who believes if they’re simply nice enough, he’ll eventually find love (and of course, sex). He’s too shy to voice his intentions, too pure to even hint at anything sexual (unless he’s in private with pornographic materials), and his primary love language is favors and gifts. This is your vanilla garden-variety incel, and he’ll need a couple heartbreaks and losing his crushes to more direct, forward men (known infamously as being “friend-zoned”) before he either wakes up to reality, or descend deeper down the spiral.

The basic nice guy merely has trouble with boundaries, self-disclosure, and empathy: the basic skills of building and deepening relationships. Favors and kind acts are the only way he knows to gain peoples favor: especially with women. He’s terrified of rejection and fears the maintenance part of relationships: getting into disagreements and making up, because he thinks he won’t get a second chance. Low self-esteem plagues the nice guy, and his biggest belief is that a relationship, especially a physical relationship, will solve his problems.

Hoo boy, he cannot be any more wrong.

Bhuddist teacher and psychologist Tara Brach coined this obsession “the trance of unworthiness”: where we believe our lack of something (in this case, a relationship) means we are unworthy, worthless, flawed, different from others. Incels use their single status to beat themselves up daily, not realizing this is the “trance of unworthiness” in action. Not having a relationship is a catalyst for this trance: they see the relationship and physical touch as the ultimate sign of acceptance, of being worthy, of being part of the human race and not “rejected.” Perhaps this is another reason they fear rejection: it reinforces the trance of unworthiness they wish to escape through physical contact.

It’s a misnomer to believe the nice guy is “entitled” to sex. This isn’t true: they simply believe they did everything they could to deepen the relationship, and it should’ve happened as naturally as if they had, say, flirted, voiced their intent, escalate the relationship, deepen their emotional intimacy, and so on. From their perspective, they’re not thinking, “I did all this stuff for you, so I DEMAND you sleep with me!,” but rather, “I did all these things for you and showered you in gifts and attention, so why don’t you love me as much as I love you?! What else am I supposed to do?!” But everything the nice guy does is surface-level, transactional, unemotional from a relationship standpoint. Sure, it can build friendships (albeit shallow friendships which resemble partnerships more than best buds), but not romance. Maybe we shouldn’t call it the “friend zone” and more the “you-didn’t-even-bother-building-the-relationship-correctly zone.”

Besides, it’s not the sex that incels want: it’s the validation. As I said before, physical intimacy is the ultimate form of acceptance, of escaping the trance of unworthiness, and the more physical, the more loving, the more closer, the more “points” it earns. If a hug is worth 10 points, and a kiss is worth 100, and a cuddle is 500, then sex is like 10,000+. But why not just pay an escort or “go solo”? To them, that’s cheating. To an incel, having to pay somebody to like you isn’t unconditional: that’s maybe worth 5 points, or maybe even negative points. Of course, sex is a cooperative activity, not a validation sink. Nothing will wake you up from this reality faster than that awkward conversation after your first few times of, “So, um… How was it?”

Where does this come from? Some blame romance movies and their grand romantic gestures, others blame love songs, and others blame just society’s sentimental view of romance. I’m sure if I mention flowers (especially roses), chocolate, plush bears, bubble baths, candlelit dinners, or slow dancing, you think romance. The images and ideas are burred into our collective unconscious. We’re bombarded with all of these images telling us three things: this is what love looks like, love is the ultimate cure for loneliness and sadness, and if you don’t want this, there’s something wrong with you. But the thing about the artistic representation of love is that it only depicts the end product, or at least the fantasy of somebody wanting us and loving us unconditionally. Perhaps the popularity of the Japanese archetypes of the tsundere come from the struggles of building a relationship, while the yandere shows us how creepy it is when somebody wants us way, waaay more than we want them back.

Either way, it paints an unrealistic portrait of how romance works.

Just as you can’t learn driving from action movie chase scenes, or sex from hardcore pornography, or how to become an Olympic-level runner playing Sonic, the simplified artistic portrayals of love and romance do not provide adequate education for how to interact with people. Actual relationships run on a model of probing (first contact, asking surface-level questions), deepening (asking and revealing more personal things mutually), and maintenence (handling misunderstandings, rebuilding familiarity, or even breaking off the relationship if there can be no reconciliation). Another popular modern concept is breaking down communications into different “love languages”: gifts and favors are only two, but there are also words of affirmation and reassurance, touch, and time together. This is the boring work of building everyone relationship from a friendship to a romance, but it is the basic skill incels ignore until they receive enough pain when they normal methods fail.

And with that, they begin searching for answers…

The Redpill Incel - The Modern Incel, Between Two Choices…

In The Matrix, Neo is given the choice between taking a blue pill to stay in his safe little world as an office drone, or take the red pill, disconnect from The Matrix, and realize the horrifying truth: the world is enslaved by machines, and he’s going to join a resistance to save humanity.

In the early 2010s, the idea of the red pill vs. blue pill was to describe the choice between the idealized romantic world I described above for the nice guy incel, and the cold hard facts about dating: that dating is a skill, and you need confidence, influence, leadership skills, a decent wardrobe, and good self-maintenance skills to increase your odds of success. Even in the mid 2000s, this spawned the pickup artist community, which are really just social skills gurus who market common-sense advice to single men.

However, something changed in the mid 2010s…

Eventually, the redpill ideology morphed into this idea that women, despite having their own corner of dating advice and entire magazines for how to attract men, secretly control not just dating, but society as a whole, and feminism has utterly wrecked dating. This corner has other bizarre, frankly misogynist ideas about how women operate, and some go even further as to saying all dating is rigged towards women and men should just avoid it all together. They also posit that women, by their nature, cannot be involuntary celibates, even though it was a woman who coined the original term. (And I also find it kinda funny how supposed “men’s rights” activists unironically use the term “red pill,” despite being coined by two writers who later came out as trans women.)

Obviously, this creates a problem for the modern incel: in their moment of pain, they’re desperately searching for answers, and they’ll latch onto the first source of hope they can find. Now, I got lucky: we didn’t have “men’s rights” folks in power back when I was searching for answers. We didn’t have those weird-ass theories, and those who did were laughed out of the community. (Neil Strauss even documents this in his book The Game, where he talks about some of the more questionable gurus trying and failing to get a foothold.) But these days? Imagine an incel in a moment of weakness, and they suddenly come across a post saying, “It’s not you! It’s feminism! Feminism is the reason you can’t find love! And love means validation, so therefore, feminism is the reason you can’t find validation!” Suddenly, there’s hope: the incel thinks if he can “game the system,” he’ll get that coveted physical contact, and with it, the validation he yearns for. But all this does is add another catalyst for his trance of unworthiness: lack of love AND feminism make him feel like his life is nothing but pain.

Now, let me put on my own Morpheus glasses and leather trenchcoat and ask you: what if I were to tell you there were three pills? A blue pill, a red pill, and a black pill? You take the blue pill, your journey to discover how relationships work ends: you wake up in your bed and you can believe whatever you want to believe about romance. You take the red pill, and you’ll see how far the rabbit hole goes…

… but if you take the black pill, you’ll wake up somewhere far worse.

A world of infinite loneliness, where what you want is forever out of your reach, in a world that sees you as a mistake. Where arbitrary rules apply to you that apply to nobody else. Where there is no hope for those who enter.

Why would anybody choose this pill?

I offer you one blue pill, and two red pills. One is the true red pill, and the other is the black pill.

Back in my day, there was only one red pill. Now, there are two, and one is poisoned.

Now, just as Morpheus showed Neo the desolate Desert of the Real, let me show the Desert of the Loveless…

The Black Pill - The Radical Extremist Incels

First, the incel starts as a “nice guy”: naive, but still relatively hopeful.

Then, after realizing their ways don’t work, they are given two choices:

One path leads to a life of self-improvement, hard study of social skills, practice, and eventually escape…

… but the other leads here. Abandon all hope, ye who enter.

The black pill ideology has given up on self-improvement, with the motto “it’s over,” any any notion of hope is considered “blue pill propaganda.” After years of being told, “Just go to the gym!,” “Just groom better!,” “Just get a good job and better education,” and so on, but NOT being told the most basic social skills, they’ve decided all of that just doesn’t work and it must be something else.

According to black pill incels…

Women are only interested in “Chads”: men who are a 8-10 out of 10 on the looks scale and blessed with perfect genetics and no personality. Any evidence to the contrary will be explained away. (Is the guy ugly? Then he must have money. No money? Then he must have status. No status? Then she must be cheating. Not cheating? Well, this example must be made up because it’s probably not true.)

Genes determine everything: if you were born any shorter than 6”0, you’re screwed. Women apparently only prefer white men (despite, y’know, other cultures and countries existing), and if you were born anything other than white, you’re screwed. (And if you somehow “ascend” inceldome? Then you are a fakecel: you were never truly an incel in the first place, because true incels are permanent.)

Feminism has destroyed modern dating and only a return traditional values like some kinda Handmaid’s Tale-esque patriarchal dystopia will solve everything. Because they see sex as the ultimate fuel for validation, sex needs to be considered a human right equal to food and water. Expect plenty of talk of sex slaves, lowering the age of consent, and sex robots.

Despite accusing everyone else who disagrees with them of “coping from cold, hard facts,” their misogyny and bizarre ideas are the ultimate coping mechanism: they’ve effectively shut themselves off from anyone who disagrees with them, and they stew in their anger with fellow blackpill incels in an echo chamber of despair and self-loathing, celebrating when women (or as they derisively call them, femoids) face hardships or when there’s a mass killing of any kind. If this seems like an exaggeration, I’d welcome you to look for yourself, if I wasn’t scared some normal incel would fall prey to their toxic influence.

These are the incels that give the poor unfortunate socially awkward incels a bad name. It’s why people fear “nice guys” may turn out to be future serial killers. If you wanna know why people want to label incels as a whole as a “hate group,” despite being a subset of only the most extreme ones, it’s because of these folks right here.

So, what now?

What’s an involuntary celibate to do? None of the options are good: continue being a “nice guy,” or look for advice elsewhere, even though there’s a 50/50 chance you could get suckered in to the extremists?

To put on my Morpheus glasses again, what if I were to tell you there’s a fourth choice? To take none of the pills?

Being a “nice guy” who does everything for others in hopes of earning friendship or romance doesn’t work.

Relying solely on hard science may be informative, but when you rely on that alone with no heart, still only shooting for validation, that doesn’t work either.

And obviously, giving up and isolating yourself with other angry virgins doesn’t work, either.

What if the solution was simpler? Waaay simpler?

It all boils down to such basic things:

Self-validation: learning to not rely on external things like love or physical connection as your own means to escape the “trance of unworthiness.” Everyone who’s walked this path says that once you realize that sex isn’t everything, you’ve truly escaped inceldome: then it simply becomes something that’s nice to have, like going to an amusement park or eating a deluxe sundae.

Basic communication and relationship skills: You can learn a lot more from looking up social penetration theory and the stages of a relationship than reading about facial ratios and social darwinism. Read the most basic guides on empathy and how to start conversations, then work into books on how intimacy works (you’ll notice an overlap with social penetration theory.)

Learn to network. Just as friends can get you jobs, they can also hook you up with fellow singles. Join groups, talk to co-workers (and no, you don’t have to date co-workers, I mean they can find people outside of work), get a hobby. Once you learn the above two skills, get out there and build connections until you find someone who can find someone.

Notice how I didn’t say “go to the gym” or “just be confident” or “take a shower.” I’ve seen plenty of incels do all three and have no luck, and I’ve seen guys without confidence get equally unconfident girlfriends, as well as guys who are unhealthy and never bathe. These are non-factors: self-validation, social skills, and networking is all you need.

Of course, there are still lessons from both the blue pill and red pill (which some folks call the purple pill philosophy): you need the romantic creativity and heart of the blue pill, but the hard skills and pragmatism of the red pill. And you need everything to overcome the dark side that is the black pill, the shadow we avoid where infinite horrors lurk within.

Coming back to the incident that sparked this post, there have been some modern incels who were jarred by the recent killings. Some are starting to question what happened to the incel community, just as I have. How did it devolve from folks wondering how to escape their loneliness, into the hellhole of conspiracy theories and hatred it has become now? Perhaps this may be the beginning of the incel community returning to its roots, where the romantically impaired seeked advice that actually worked, rather than wallow in self-pity and cheer on mankind’s destruction. As an old recovered “love shy,” I pray others find the same path I and many others like me had walked, and avoid the one that leads to self-destruction others have stumbled upon.

With this post, I’m making my vow to do my part to make sure more people avoid this terrible fate and find happiness, whether they pursue love or not.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

An Introduction

Secret Garden

Warning: Controlling behaviour, toxic possessiveness and protectiveness, manipulation, stalking and power-imbalance

An introduction to Yandere Neo Anderson

Unedited.

Also, the GIF is NOT mine, I got it from Google Images. The credit for this creation goes to its rightful owner.

Another complex character.

Before taking the pill, his life was very different. There was nothing noticeable, or extraordinary about him, he did not seem to have any real connection or relationship with people around him and he was like every other average person, the people he passed by on his way to work.

But that was the trick.

Thomas Anderson led a double life even before taking the pill. Being a master hacker showed his extraordinary intelligence and creativity. Neo was the man who wreaked havoc in the matrix despite being still bound to the matrix. Thomas never liked authority, but begrudgingly followed through because he had not yet found the cause to rebel. Neo, on the other hand, showed authority a virtual middle finger to it's face. This was shown in the interrogation scene of 'The Matrix' as well, where Thomas showed the agents a middle finger literally after his identity as Neo was revealed.

Thomas understood that there was something very wrong with the world, but could never put a pin on it. But he was actively searching, seeking, as Neo.

After he woke up, he adopted the name Neo as his real name. Neo, while being the anagram for 'One', also indicated 'new'. After taking the pill, not only was Neo freed, but went through a rebirth. Tearing through his pod. Thomas died with the intake of Redpill. Neo's search had (for the first part), ended. He had the answer to his 'Why'.

Why did he feel off, why did he feel different? Why was he so disturbed and isolated, searching through the net?

And that gave him the key to unlock the powers lying dormant within him. He became 'The One', once he started to believe in himself. And it was portrayed in the fight scene between him and Smith when he declared that his name was 'Neo'. At that moment, he began to believe in himself, his mind and its possibilities.

In the two instalments that followed, Neo grew increasingly confident and self-aware, gaining more powers. He developed this aura of an enlightened detachment around him. Power came from knowledge and Neo embodied that.

However, despite everything, he was not completely selfless. In the second movie, Neo showed his most humane side by defying the 'expected' behaviour from 'the one', and choosing to save his love over humanity. Beneath the layers, after all, Neo was a passionate and dedicated lover who saw his love as the most real out of everything he had seen and faced.

So...A yandere Neo

There are plenty of theories and video essays that actually point out that Neo is more selfish and villainous than he is portrayed. A least in the Matrix Trilogy. So, add some darker shades to this and you have someone who doesn't really care if he saves the world or not if it comes to choosing between love and altruism.

You see, it is hinted in the second movie already that Neo defies everything that is expected of him, his choices are different and while it is possible that choice itself is an illusion, he manages to see through that illusion and shows a metaphorical middle finger to the creator of it all, possibly The Architect.

He does care about humans, he is no Agent Smith. But in the first movie, it is during their fight that Smith says 'You are empty' to Neo, and Neo responds with 'So are you'. This can be a clue that Neo is not completely human. He and Smith are more similar than different. But while Smith is driven by hatred and greed, Neo by love and awareness.

As a yandere, Neo can be a bit delusional, since he is already hero-worshipped, there is a bit of a saviour complex in him and a sense of superiority. But as mentioned before, he is incredibly aware. So, do not take him as a fool, he is extremely difficult to trick. He can see through you, even if not instantly, eventually, he will.

Moreover, his powers grow incredibly as time passes. He has power in the matrix as well as in the real world. While he is wise enough to use the powers responsibly, he is not afraid to use them to show you your place. Beside him, nowhere else.

He will never physically hurt you, no. It even aches him to see tears in your eyes. However, when it comes to manipulating you, be it your perception, using his powers and influence to bend and mould it like he wants you to see...Neo will do that without a second thought.

He sees you as his better half, someone without whom, he can never be 'The One'.

Other than that, he does have the tendency to stalk you. Not always physically but through the matrix and other systems. He loves to watch you. All the time. It's like he is constantly trying to study you, to measure you. He is fascinated, yes, but like it's never enough. You can be doing the most mundane task like brushing your teeth and he is content to watch you do that for hours.

Neo as a lover, is actually a sweetheart. He always takes your comfort into consideration, even when you defy him. He does not like that, sure, but that's simply because he knows more than you, he knows better. If your defiance, though, threatens to break the structure of 'truth' he has built, or directly challenge the foundation of his beliefs or his perception (if you see through him and confront him), he will not hesitate to show you how he is your best bet in the world.

Take that however you like.

His love can be suffocating though. He is paranoid about his protectiveness, and territoriality. His possessiveness does not show because he is rarely challenged. And even if he is, it is seldom over you.

So, he is always keeping an eye on you and loves to hold influence over your decisions. Because in his mind, he is doing this for your own good.

****

Honestly, I find Neo to be an extremely complex character and an even more complex yandere. I might add or omit things here in future, but until then, this is all I have been able to come up with after analysing and discussing with some of my mutuals

[sweetwolfcupcake]

under the skin w/ Neo??? 🥺🥺🥺

Damn, it took me a while, and yet I cannot say that I'm satisfied with it. But, here we go.

From the Prompts

Yandere Neo x Reader, and Reader x OC

Warnings: My poor understanding of the prompt 'Under the skin', forced feeding, impersonation, some changes in the matrix lore, Neo is very morally grey here, yandere behaviour.

The GIFs used here DO NOT belong to me. They belong to the respective owner. Unfortunately, I am unable to remember where I downloaded it from. I understand it takes time and effort to create such pieces and the GIF makers deserve all the credit. So, Kindly excuse me.

Unedited

Something is off about your boyfriend. You can feel it. 

It’s not only the shift in the air around him, and the way he speaks. It is not only the new kind of detachment he sees to have developed for the reality, life and people around him. All except for you. It is not only how he seems to stand a bit taller, and larger when he is around you.

No, these are noticeable but can still be dismissed somehow. 

What you can’t dismiss is the way he feels— his touch, his voice, his presence in general.

You feel it when you look into Ryan’s eyes, you feel it when you kiss him. You feel it when he touches you. No matter if it is only his hand on the small of his back or his fingers delving in and out of your pulsating womanhood. But you feel it. The...fingers feel bigger, the touches bloom from the passion you have not known before.

You feel a certain burn every time his lips mould with yours, like two pieces of puzzles fitting together to make the world make sense. 

It should not make sense, it does not, in fact, make any sense. If you tell anybody that you feel that someone else is under your long-term boyfriend’s skin, they will deem you mad. Why wouldn’t they?

But how come nobody seems to notice this?

Ryan used to be far laid back, never questioned you about your whereabouts, never frowned at your male friends—if anything, he loved spending time with them. Ryan loved to play video games. Ryan never smoked. Ryan’s wardrobe was more colourful and varied. Ryan never had this…aura of superiority around him.

But this Ryan is proactive when it comes to knowing your whereabouts and about your friends. It’s…almost aggressive. You feel the change when his hold on you tightens while you interact with your male friends. You feel the change when he insists that you call him as soon as you reach your workplace and before you leave for home. Not text, but a call, and if you miss, even by a minute, he will be calling you. 

You feel the change in his now apathy for any kind of video games, he speaks of them as if they are some kind of cruel joke on humanity itself. You do not understand most of it, but you know that he has read, and he has read deeply. The Ryan you know would never even bat an eye at philosophical texts. But this ‘Ryan’, possesses texts that are banned, and books you have never seen or heard of before.

This Ryan has an affinity towards greys, whites and blacks. The way he wears black overcoats, and brushes his hair back, he looks tenfold more attractive, but also unlike himself. Ryan’s hair used to be slightly curled, slightly brown. But now it's jet black and straight. His eyes had a certain mirth in them, now they are deep, dark and observant. Like they are piecing into your soul.

This Ryan is calmer. This Ryan speaks in a low, deep, assured tone that feels slightly different. This Ryan holds you tight when you sleep at night and is always awake before you, he notices the change in your breathing pattern, no twitch, no subtle change escapes his notice.

This man is not Ryan, your boyfriend of six years. 

He might look exactly like Ryan, and sound like him too but this is not Ryan. You just know it. You know it in your bones, you feel it. You have known Ryan enough to notice the subtle changes, these are all glaring, neon-red warning signs.

Something is just so off about your boyfriend, it's unnerving. It frightens you how unfamiliar and good he feels when he is buried deep inside you. You see his eyes darken just slightly and the tinge of green in those irises. Ryan’s eyes are brown, a bit lighter shade of brown as opposed to the recent dark brown eyes he seems to have developed out of the blue, but the green? 

You dismissed the first few times as a trick of light but then, you looked into his last night, even with the pleasure-induced high, you peered right into his eyes, and you saw it. The dots of green encircling his iris. Now when you think of it, he might have smirked at you. 

A smirk so unlike Ryan that it gave you a whiplash just before his lips claimed yours, you were pushed past the edge once more and all was blissfully forgotten for a while.

Now, as you drive through the isolated roads, miles away from the city, away from ‘Ryan’, you can think clearly. Your conclusions will sound bizarre but the more you try to rationalise it, the more loopholes you get. They do not make sense. You cannot rationalise it. 

How will people notice anyway? It has been months since Ryan has been to a proper gathering. Your phone rings and you know it is him. The stranger who looks and sounds like your boyfriend.

You have no idea what you are to do, but you do not feel safe in your house anymore. It’s stupid, running away. But you are desperate at this point, you have no idea what you are dealing with.

 Who is it anyway?

You do not want to know, all you want is to be safe and safety means being far, far away from him—the man who pretends to be your boyfriend.

But where is Ryan?

You have no idea but you know that to find out, you need to be alive first. This man terrifies and entices you simultaneously. Disturbing.

Your phone has not stopped ringing and you are doing your best to ignore it while speeding towards…You don’t know where you are headed, but your car needs refuelling and you need to rest somewhere. 

If you were paying attention, you would have noticed the eerily empty highway. But you realise this now, looking at the gas station without a single person, or even being in sight. It is eerie initially, and then utterly unsettling when you realise that not a single car has passed by you on your way, or even the gas station.

“I don’t like this.” You whisper to yourself before quickly moving to refuel your car. The faster, the better. 

Your phone does not stop ringing though. The repeated sound is now hitting a nerve. Hissing curses under your breath, you flip it open.

Of course, the name of your boyfriend pops up. This time, you foolishly cut the call and switch the device off.

You pay more attention to the roads this time and change your mind. No more staying at any motel in the middle of nowhere. You cannot risk that. Instead, you head towards the nearest city or town—anything with civilisation in sight. The highway looks like a scene straight out of some eerie video game.

But how can that be?

Thankfully, you reach a town by the wee hours. There are cars parked, houses, and a few people loitering here and there—even a police car. 

This makes you breathe in relief. Maybe you have been overthinking, maybe it was all your panicked mind playing tricks on you, or some cars passed by you but you never noticed.

With such thoughts, you park your car near a hotel and make your way inside. You sigh in relief at the sight of a sleepy receptionist.

Yes, you must have been thinking too much.

—-----

 The bed is comfortable, the temperature is just right. The room does not smell. And yet you toss and turn. Giving up attempts to lull yourself into sleep, you stare at the ceiling. Here, all you can think of is…Ryan…Or the person with his skin. It’s difficult to decipher because he has Ryan’s birthmark, his teeth, his everything. It is like someone is wearing Ryna’s flesh. But you know that he is not your boyfriend.

Sitting up, you feel a certain unease filling your chest. Your eyes are heavy but your mind is running, thinking too much, too fast to actually fall asleep. Perhaps some fresh air in the room will help you. Getting off the bed, you move towards the window unlock it when you see a figure by your parked car. Dressed in a black overcoat, the figure turns more familiar the longer you stare at it. 

And then he turns. He turns and looks up. He is wearing a pair of black glasses. He looks exactly like Ryan but the way he stares back at you from below before marching in, you know this isn’t him. It can’t be. Ryan never scared you, this man scares you to the point that you scramble to get out of the room, tripping on your way. You head for the elevator, but the digital screen already displays an upward arrow from the ground floor.

Good.

You’re fucked.

You should have made your way downstairs, it’s probably him on his way up. But your brain short-circuits and you find yourself huffing as you climb two stairs at a time, going for the terrace. You realise your mistake after you have already climbed two floors. It’s too late anyway. He is coming after you now. 

You do find your way to the terrace. It should have been closed, but who would bother in this sleepy town?

 You walk towards the edge, trying to find any possible escape route or even a place to hide. The building is not high enough to kill you if you jump, but it is high enough to break your bones and make sure that you become bed-ridden for weeks if you are stupid enough to—

“(Y/N)?”

You freeze but do not turn around immediately. It's Ryan’s voice and you are, for the first time, terrified of his voice. This isn’t the tone, or depth he ever uses. It’s like his voice is subtly changing. 

“What are you even doing here (Y/N)?”

You turn around finally, assessing him with your panicked eyes. His presence has never felt more different—like this isn’t even trying to hide behind your boyfriend’s skin anymore. He simply is keeping a mask as a mockery.

“H–How did you find me?” You press yourself to the railing, trying to remember any exit point other than the entrance to escape.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Calm down it's just me. Your Boyfriend, Ryan”

You think you imagine this, but there is a hint of cruel amusement in his tone. 

"No you’re not—you’re not Ryan. Look at you…Where is Ryan?”

‘Ryan’ chuckles “What do you mean, I am Ryan.”

You blink. 

Is that—Is that like–something like a glitching screen you are seeing?

This can’t be real. This isn’t real. It has to be some trick of the light or something. Is this some long nightmare? You wonder while digging your nails into your skin.

Wake up, wake up!

“You’re not Ryan. Where is Ryan?”

You involuntarily push yourself up, sitting on the railing, in a desperate attempt to get away from the advancing man. His unhurried, calculated steps make him seem more foreboding. He seems…Taller.

“What do you mean, look at me (Y/N), I am your lovely boyfriend.”

His voice sounds different now, a deep and delicious but it also makes your stomach twist. You realise how close he is when his voice lowers and she notices the subtle differences.

“You cannot fool me. Not anymore. You’re not Ryan.” Your voice cracks as you blink away the panicked tears gathering in your eyes.

You want to sob out when he smirks. Its cold all over, and chills cascade down your spine.

“Aren’t you smart?”

You heart sinks into your stomach as  ‘Ryan’ nears you. It happens too soon. One moment, you are leaning away, desperate to escape and the next, you are slipping and falling offYour the building.

Your eyes initially screwed shut open as you feel yourself free-falling. And you scream

This is not Ryan. 

This is someone else.

But you get barely a moment to think before you are grabbed roughly and pulled upwards. This…man…flies. Flies?

Fucking flies back to the terrace with you in his grasp. To say you are frozen in fear is an understatement. Because you are wide-eyed with lips parted and shivering and your throat is parched.

You realise that you have never known true fear until this moment. This moment when you are flying. Fucking flying back into the terrace and staring at the man who has finally dropped his mask. This isn’t Ryan, clearly, and the realisation makes you take several steps back. He is a man you have never seen before with an aura of superiority that is both intimidating and magnetic.

He exudes power and the moment he removes the dark glasses to reveal his deep, dark eyes, you know you are done for. They glare at you before he reaches you with a couple of long strides, the air around him is thick—almost buzzing with electricity when you feel his hand grab your arm.

“ WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, WOMAN? You could have—-” He stops and looks away. 

A cold, calm version of him is sinister, yes. But this…it makes you want to just run and never turn back. 

“Don’t you ever do that again.” He hisses.

This. Is this what it is like to be frightened with just a warning? You do not care if you feel like a child scared of the monster under your bed but you shiver under this looming man’s hold. And in your panicked state, spew out whatever comes in your mind.

“You–you’re not real you can’t be….” Your voice is quivering and the certain gleam in his eyes makes your stomach flip. 

Then he smiles. He has a beautiful smile, but to you it seems cold and sharp. As if he is sharpening his knives.

“Oh, I am very much real, Baby.” The endearment comes as a mockery. Ryan calls you that, and he knows. This man knows what he is doing. “This, however…” He points his forefinger downwards, “This world…Isn’t real, honey. Neither was your stupid little boyfriend. You felt it too, didn’t you? feel How a real human’s touch feels, how the connection feels?”

“Wh–what? Wh–who are you even?” Your voice shakes like your heart. The more he speaks, the more unnerved you feel.

It’s a lie. It’s a lie lie lie

You never felt the strange flutter, the deep longing and sadness with him You always had Ryan so... 

Why do you feel it then?

Like something beautiful is fleeting. It’s sublime even. You are awestruck but cannot comprehend it. You feel in this man’s presence.

But this has to be some trick, this cannot be real. You have been with Ryan. Six years. You have given this relationship six years! How can this be? 

“I am Neo, and you will have all the answers when you wake up.”

He produces what seems like a tiny red pill. It has a glow to it, drawing you in. Your hand almost raises to pick it up, but then rationality slips back in.

Okay, now you know who he is. A psycho. Maybe he wore a mask or something, you don’t know but he does not seem to be in his right mind.

“Y–you fucking crackhead what did you do to Ryan?”

You are probably digging your own grave, you are fucked in the head for finding this man attractive. Noticing how big and warm his hands are. But you do care about Ryan.

His smile fades away and there is something so deliciously dark swirling in his eyes. They flash dangerously and you gulp. You are going to die, aren’t you?

But then, he sighs and looks away, shaking his head as if he had expected it. “Thought this would happen,” he whispers to himself.

You frown and frantically look around. Will anyone come to your rescue if you scre—

The sudden pinch on your nose is painful. But the gasp comes more with the shock of your nose being pinched than the loss of air. Your mouth opens as a reflex, that is all he needs. Ou vaguely see a tiny flash of red before his fingers slide themselves into your mouth. Your teeth come clamping around it in defence. But he simply pinches your nose harder with a chiding ‘tch’. You gag at the feeling of his fingers forcing the pill in. But you cannot keep your teeth clamped for long, you need to breathe after all. As soon as your mouth opens again, though, his fingers retreat. You take a deep breath when he frees your nose. You would just spit the—

Your stomach plummets at the feeling of an empty mouth. You look up to him, holding your neck, wide-eyed as everything begins to appear in waves, the colours outlining, each figure, even him.

“Perfect.”

That is the last thing you hear before the ground below you melts.

****