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fernpetals · 2 months ago

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After Life: The Past

Masterlist

Yandere Neo Anderson Headcanons

Part II

Based on this idea

Warning: NSFW-ish, stalking, creepy behaviour, violation of privacy, obsessive tendencies, red flag 'nice guy' Thomas, deviations from the original matrix plot, and characterisations, hints of social awkwardness and anxiety.

Inspired by a post about dark Neo by @97keanu and some late-night discussions with my mutuals (wink)

Unedited piece

Thomas Anderson was a socially awkward sceptic, living in alienation. Grinding through the monotonous cycle, while being aware, at the back of his mind, that something was very, very wrong with this world.

Thomas Anderson could only peek from his cubicle as you greeted your colleagues and went on with your day.

You adhered to your team. Never mingling too close to the rest. You were not impolite. Quite the opposite. Sweet smiles, nods of acknowledgement– polite and professional. But that was it.

Despite your politeness your kindness, you were not an open book. You gave an impression of being one, though. Knowingly. Or unconsciously, Thoman did not know. But despite his keen eyes, he could decipher only a little about you.

A part of him always longed to walk up to you and start a conversation. Maybe during coffee, or snack breaks, or when he would find you in the break room, all by yourself, scribbling something.

He would linger, but never get the courage to walk up to you. The most he had done was smile, nod, and greet you. You, of course, sweet thing, greeted him back with that devastating smile of yours that left his throat parched.

Thomas Anderson’s sweet brown eyes would meet yours across cubicles, and he would sigh. He did not want to think too much about you. He had no idea what truly intrigued him, but he couldn’t stop.

He…had to know more about you. The enigma that you were. Quiet, kind—with your perfect smile, sweet eyes, and polite mannerisms. No one was perfect, surely you were no exception.

Thomas liked to tell himself that he was merely curious about the human tendencies— deception, envy, anger, destruction—perhaps the most self-destructive race to ever walk on earth. Yet something innate within prevailed. The will to go on.

Thomas Anderson was curious by nature; he was snooping into your personal life—your digital files, simply out of curiosity.

Neo was the name associated with data breaches that made it to the headlines, shook up the security systems of governments and banks alike. Yet he chose to use his skills and time on you. Your digital files, on digging up information about you.

It would seem to be grossly wasted effort in the hacker community that respected NEO so much.

But he did not regret one bit. Who knew 'Miss Polite and Perfect' had a digital diary? Who knew that her dark humour stemmed from the scepticism around the world, the way it was? You seemed more similar to him than he had thought before.

But that was not what made his blood race. It was what you had written. Short scenarios and stories of utter debauchery.

Poor, poor you, writing her fantasies that would ‘never be probably fulfilled, 'it’s all too much, too good. Your words, not his. The fact that you did not expect any man to bring you the pleasure you imagined in those writings made him tick.

More than once, he had his pants unzipped and length out, leaking and angry as he read through your 'scenarios' and got off.

There were also personal musings and mundane happenings that you wrote. How your day went, what you thought of your teammates, who you liked, who you disliked, the one co-worker who would always be passing back-handed compliments and taking credit for your work.

Thomas found himself engrossed in your life. Even to the most mundane and minute details. The way you like your caffeine first thing in the morning, the fruits you liked, and what thoughts ran through your head. Your perception, your reality, you, you, you.

He did not mean to, but it became his motivation to go home and sit in front of the computer. His search for ‘Morpheus’ was not going anywhere anyway. Instead, he focused on reading and knowing all about you.

Reading as you typed into your digital diary, and the next day, finding the correlation between your words and actions in the office.

You were pissed one night—all your hard work gone into the name of a pesky coworker. You wrote as you could see the prospect of promotion slipping from your fingers.

Thomas should not have bothered himself with it. He was not even bothered about his own promotion. He had no definite ‘vision of the future’ for himself. But it was the unjust treatment you were facing that made his jaws tighten and sweet brown eyes harden.

He knew he should have minded his business. Not even once, during months of reading through your digital diary, did he find his name. You never noticed him. He was simply one of the many employees you greeted and forgot.

He wished you would notice him. You never did. And it made something gnaw out from the gap in his chest.

Why would you not notice? Look at him. He was the one who left you a cup of coffee just right on your desk. You liked it, and he saw your smile. You should be trying to guess and find out who it was.

Why wouldn’t you just look at him? Okay, it was he who could never gather the courage to walk up to you, but he wished you would think of him, even for once, and mention him in the digital diary.

He began to obsessively search through your diary, trying to find anything remotely connected to him. You did not think of him at all. Though not surprised, it did hurt him a little. A more rational part of him knew that it should not hurt him, but how would you know?

But he was happy to see you happy and thriving. The bully of a co-worker being fired for compromising company information did not really make you happy, as he thought it would.

He spent hours breaking into the system and making it happen. But you were happy when the promotion you were eyeing landed right on your lap. It felt worth the effort.

When it was announced in the office, he was one of the first colleagues to congratulate you.

He made efforts that day. He chose a better shirt, he put time to comb his hair, he wore a more expensive cologne, he made conscious efforts to straighten up his shoulders and try keeping his nervousness down.

He was good at keeping a front, but his palms were sweaty. He had to wipe them off when he approached to congratulate you. Your hands felt so warm and soft, he thought they had finally found a blanket cosy enough to keep his soul warm.

But he ended up tripping over, almost falling until you caught him, looking at him with concern, asking if he was okay, pointing out the beads of sweat all over his forehead and nose.

He thought it was a lost battle until you pulled out your handkerchief to pat over his forehead and nose. “Thomas, you look stressed.”

He looked at you, eyes blinking in utter surprise, “You remember my name?” You noticed him? You had noticed him before?

You chuckled. “Of course I do. I greet you every day, do I not?”

He could only nod. “Are you…Are you hungry? I was about to grab lunch, but it’s okay if you aren’t. The lunch is never good anyway, it's boring, I will just slide into the cafeteria and—”

“Yeah sure.”

“What?”

Your slow smile was a knife gradually pushing into his chest. “Let's go and grab lunch.”

And so began the habit of grabbing a bite, or simply coffee with you. At times, he would just get you a cup if you were too busy to leave your cubicle and chat away for a while. Every time he would arrive at your cubicle, he couldn’t help but glance at the desk.

He nodded to what you said, listened to. But every now and then, he would be distracted thinking about how good it would feel to pick you up and place you on that desk while he stood between your legs.

If you preferred pants, he thought about how fast he could pull them down and unzip his. If you wore skirts, he imagined how your naked thighs would feel under his fingers.

His eyes would drop to your tinted lips—was your lipstick smudgeproof? He preferred it wasn’t. He could rub his thumb over your lips and watch the lipstick smudged all over. You would look prettier being a mess.

But most of all, he liked to hear your giggle, or the full-blown laughter that would turn heads in the dead and awful place. Nobody seemed to like any signs of life. The indoor plants felt fake, and everyone seemed to just type away like some robot in their cubicles.

He liked to imagine that you two stood out, laughing, softly initially, before busting into giggles and laughter that you two tried and failed to suppress.

He loved your laughter the most. The sound filled him with life, like moondust all over him, light filling him, like something restarted inside him. Like he could ride into the sunset with you by his side, laughing, talking, hair ruffled by the wind.

He could not believe how fast he turned from merely a colleague you greeted to becoming your friend. He knew he could be more than that, the flirty back and forth, the lingering stares, the awkward silences.

He would spend night after night, smoking through his thoughts and mindlessly scrolling through his computer after reading your diary. You began to write about him. You began to think of him. You began to look forward to talking to him every day you walked into the office. You liked his company, you thought he had the sweetest brown eyes and the best dry humour.

The night he finally managed to ask you out was also the day Morpheus made contact with him. For the first time. It was a phone delivered to him.

It was also the day the agents took him for interrogation. They somehow knew that Morpheus had contacted him.

The next thing he knew, he woke up in his room, and it seemed to be a nightmare. But it felt so real. Did the agents know that he was NEO? Did he show them the finger like he had been showing to the world, that felt very, very wrong? His surroundings often unsettled him.

He asked you the next day if there were any strange men dressed in suits in the office. You were just as clueless as the rest. It had to be a dream, he told himself, trying to shake off the eerie feeling.

“So, this weekend, right?”

When you asked him, looking up from the seat, expectant eyes and cheeks dusted with a tinge of warmth, Thomas was happy to shove the whole experience down at that moment.

“Yes, at seven. I’ll be waiting.”

It was the eve of your first date when Thomas was offered the chance to finally see Morpheus. The man he had been chasing for over a decade.

He was presented with a choice even before he was offered the choice between the red and the blue pill.

He glanced at the street that would lead him to the place where you would be waiting for him, and asked himself if he could live with the doubt and questions for the rest of his life. If he were content in a world that unsettled him?

The answer was no.

He could not. He needed answers. He needed to see Morpheus. So he made his choice. He got into that car, driving away from that street, but he felt like he had left a part of himself there.

When he finally met Morpheus and was presented with a life-defining choice, he asked one question: “Will I be able to come back here as I please…Like you do?”

Would he see you again?

It was a cryptic but affirmative ‘yes’.

And he made the choice he always knew he would. Even though his heart broke at the moment. But he had to know. He had to see the truth; he would always choose the truth.

His mind was consumed by your thoughts when he swallowed the red pill, and he thought of you after taking the pill.

You…

He knew you would be waiting in that cafe, but knew that had he chosen to walk away, he could have had a future with you. But he also knew that he could never live with the questions. This blind chase had to come to an end. He needed answers. He needed to know.

He made a choice, and nothing was the same again.

****

There will be a part II

#yandere neo anderson #yandere thomas anderson #neo anderson x reader #dark neo anderson #keanu reeves scenario #the matrix #keanuverse #yandere keanu reeves imagine

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discoscoob · 1 year ago

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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…

#not a full fic just wanted to put some words down bc the idea has been in my mind for a while and i need to offload it somewhere #neo #the matrix #neo anderson #thomas anderson #keanu reeves #neo x reader #yandere neo #my fics

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valentinxd · 2 months ago

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random ideas in my head that I can’t get out and may write.

John Wick being a mechanic and he’s wearing that stupid full body mechanic suit and he’s got you on a work bench pretending to work on you but it’s all smut.

Neo with a female reader who is a cyborg he built and he gave you the ability to touch. More wholesome like you two are just adorable little idiots.

Being John and Helen’s maid but like - they have a thing for you. Hiring you to clean but then slowly spoiling you and then finally just having you move in and straight to the bedroom.

Trying to build a crib with Jack but you both keep fucking it up and struggle with each little piece. Struggling to read the instructions, struggling to find the right pieces and putting things on backwards

Smoking a cigarette on a rooftop with a teenage John Constantine listening to rock music after his death attempt. Sitting in silence in the dark with only the street light on, the crickets are the only sound and he’s wearing a jean jacket hiding his arms and all you can do is hold his hand which refuses to let go because out of everyone in this world he’s scard of losing is you.

Being Donaka Mark’s first love and taking care of him after he gets into his first fight. One of the many boyfriends his absent mother has decided to put him in his place and he stumbles into your apartment holding him, bandagaing his wounds and pressing small kisses to his bruised face and seeing something inside him change and you fear you can’t get him back.

Yandere Neo and Trinity both altering your life in the Matrix because they both become obsessed with you and so they decide to make it worse to “save you.” Little things get worse in your life, you lose your job, things break, your partners start off sweet but become worse, and why do you keep seeing two people in the corner of your room at night? Your just dreaming right?

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanuverse #::for my valentine #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #neo x reader #neo x trinity #donaka mark x reader #john constantine x reader

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feinv · 1 year ago

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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 ;)

#love how all the other asks are just sub neo and dom reader so real guys #—🧋#feinv—na #neo anderson x reader #neo x reader #the matrix #neo anderson x you

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waywardsummoner46 · 3 years ago

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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

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

Note

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.

#damon salvatore #bella swan #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight headcanons #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries meta

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sweetwolfcupcake · 1 year ago

Text

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’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.

#yandere neo #yandere matrix neo #yandere neo anderson #yandere neo x reader #yandere matrix neo x reader #yandere matrix #yandere neo anderson x reader #yandere neo x y/n #yandere neo anderson x y/n

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fernpetals · 23 days ago

Text

After Life: The Present

Masterlist

Yandere Neo Anderson Headcanons

Part I Part III

Based on this idea

Warning: Stalking, unreliable perception and grasp of reality, NSFW, dub-con, power imbalance, manipulative, creepy and slightly delusional behaviour, major canon diversions and my miserable attempt at making this work. Inspired by a post about dark Neo by @97keanu and some late-night discussions with my mutuals (wink)

Unedited Piece

You are dreaming. It is the same dream, the same man, over and over again. You dream of sitting inside a cafe you have never been to, and waiting. Who are you waiting for?

You don’t know.

It is the same damn cafe, always evening. At times, a faceless man shows up. Flowers in hand, carnations. But you never quite recognise him.

It has been a year since you have been having these ‘dreams’. At this point, you want to visit the cafe. But something in you is afraid. Afraid of what? You do not know.

You just feel…different. As if something is missing. You want to reach out, but it is like a veil has been put over your mind. You are brushing against memories that do not exist, but you feel them.

It’s like you are losing your mind.

Had it been just the dreams, you would have managed. But you randomly wake up in the middle of the night to an empty and dark room, as expected. But the air feels…charged. You feel every single hair on your body stand up, and the static.

You look around like you are expecting to see something or someone. But there is no physical evidence of an intruder. Never. You just feel it in your bones.

—---

“What if they track your pattern? You are endangering yourself and her.” Morpheus’s voice is hushed on the phone.

“They can’t reach me, or trace me, I made sure of that.” Neo’s voice is soft and quiet, lower than usual. He does not want to wake you.

As Thomas Anderson, he longed to be in the position that he is now. In your room, watching over you as you sleep.

Neo does not take off his eyewear, though. It helps him keep the codes in check. He is in control of this matrix now; the agents simply do not know it yet. They never will, until he hunts down every last one of them.

For now, he is content to play a subtle game with you. He wants you to revisit the cafe. He wants you to remember him. But some systems are permanent here. Like a necessary evil.

Every person who consumes the red pill is automatically removed from the memories of the Matrix, and the people trapped here. So, according to the Matrix, Thomas Anderson never existed. No one remembers him, and there are no traces left of him. Digital, physical, nothing.

It works to keep the world from descending into chaos and madness, but also aids in keeping people from sensing that something is wrong with this world.

He retreats into the corner, waving his palm and turning invisible to those bound to the Matrix when he senses you beginning to wake up.

Like every night, he watches you wake, looking around, as if expecting to see someone. He knows you can sense him, and it only turns him more determined. You can sense him, while no other human can. Your connection to him runs deeper. It was always meant to be.

There’s a slight heaviness he feels when you frantically look around, confused, unable to express what you feel, unable to put a pin on it. But you feel him. Somewhere deep inside your subconscious, you know it's him. It knows him

—--

You are standing in front of the cafe again. You have walked into this path many times, without even noticing. But something in you never lets you step inside. The space seems inviting and warm. So why do you hesitate?

Fuck it, I’m going in.

With that, you take a deep breath and walk—

You frown, realising that the lights seem suddenly brighter, as if it's night time already. You look around, only for your lips to part at the view outside.

You walked in moments ago with the sun high up in the sky. But from the cafe, you can see the nightlife. The street lights are lit up, the buildings are all bright, the sky is dark, and there are rumbles along with flashes in the sky.

How is this…

You look around, realising that you are the only person bothered by this strange phenomenon.

Your gaze zeroes in on a corner table with a bouquet placed on it. Without another thought, you walk towards it and pick up the bouquet. Carnations. Fresh, fragrant, beautiful blooms invite you to run your fingers through them. The bouquet from your dreams. Only the mystery man is missing.

You pick it up and find a little card taped to it. ‘To (Y/N)’ it reads when you unfold it. You turn to look to see if anyone is there, waiting for you. But somehow, you feel like you are the one waiting. For what? Whom?

Your eyes stop at the view outside. With the thunder rumbling and the wind picking up speed, the streets seem calmer. But one man is standing right underneath a street light. You take a step forward for a closer look. Despite the good distance, somehow, you just know he’s looking straight at you.

He is dressed in black. The hem of his coat moves and flows in stagnant waves as the wind picks up. He stands still, though. A part of black eyewear, hair brushed back, and broad shoulders straightened with a calm sense of foreboding and self-assurance.

You rush outside the cafe, the bouquet still in your grasp, only to stumble back at the feeling of sunlight as soon as you are outside. You look up and immediately shut your eyes under the unforgiving glare of the summer sun. When you turn to see that streetlight again, you find no one.

You drink yourself to sleep at night. Unable to come to terms with the events at the cafe. Yet the bouquet sits in your guestroom vase. Something in you could not leave it behind. Your eyes keep drifting towards the door before they feel too heavy to keep open. As if you are expecting someone to walk in. Who?

At the cafe, you have felt longing like never before. Deja Vu. That is the only explanation you have for what clouded your heart and mind in that cafe. The rest…the day, the night, that…that man. You have no idea what it was. Were you hallucinating? Was it all in your mind? Who was that man? Who left the bouquet?

Whatever you have experienced was real– the bouquet sitting in your living room is the evidence. But it has unsettled you to the core. You cannot look at the world the same way again. It has been like a jolt to you. Like you had been asleep for a long, long time and are about to wake up.

Tonight, your dreams manifest out of nowhere. You see yourself back in your office. But you are not working. You are in your cubicle, and the place feels eerily quiet, except for the whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

Fingers. Moving in a deliberate pattern inside you. You see the side of his neck, the white collar of his shirt that has a tinge of green. A very faint, but not just his shirt, everything around you seems to have a shadow of green cast over it. The world is the same as the world you live in, but it does not feel real.

Yet, his fingers moving inside you, producing that squelching noise that seems to grow embarrassingly louder with each moment, are what ground you. They feel real, this man feels.

You want to look up at him. You can smell him, feel the heat of his body against yours, you feel him standing between your thighs, your skirt hiked up, and his fingers inside your ruined panties, but you only have a zoomed-in view of his face.

Your cheeks pressed against his. You nose inhaling his scent before you feel his other hand bunch up your hair and pull your head, and meet his eager lips.

Your eyes flutter close, and at the same time, he curls his fingers one last time before you burst into a million sparks of ecstasy. You whine and rub your hips against his moving fingers, feeling conquered in the way his tongue caresses yours and the top of your mouth like he is contemplating something life-altering.

You gasp awake with the sight of the ceiling of your bedroom greeting you. Your hands are on your sides, fisting the ruffled bedsheet but you catch your breath. Your tongue has a lingering taste like no other, your lips are covered with saliva, and your womanhood throbs deliciously. You feel empty, and the warmth and slickness between your thighs do not help.

You look down to find your underwear messily shoved down enough to make space for fingers to be inside. It is ruined anyway. A heady scent hangs in the air as you look at your fingers. Did you just touch yourself in your sleep? Your fingers seem dry and smell nothing of the musk you anticipate when you bring them to your nose.

No, no trace of what you expect, but…but something else. A smell you know you have never smelled before, yet feels somehow familiar. You sigh, feeling a headache catching up. You have no energy to get up. You feel heavy and exhausted after experiencing pleasure like never before.

Taking off your underwear, you toss it away and fall back on the bed. Sleep, surprisingly, comes easily.

—-

It takes everything in Neo not to pick up the discarded underwear that has landed right in front of him. He stares down at it instead, the damp cotton tests his self-control. His throat dies, but he forces himself to tear his gaze away from the piece of cloth towards the bed.

His jaws clench when he is greeted by the most delicious sight imaginable. Nothing covers your lower half. Your soft thighs, legs messily tangled with the sheet and bare mound, are all for his sight— a low burning of his desire now shooting into dangerous flames licking at his sanity.

But he remains still, silently breathing in the scent of the room now heavy with the scent of your arousal while his eyes take in your form.

Parched. He is parched and empty without you. For now, though, he is satisfied with only licking his fingers slick with your essence.

—--

You do not understand what exactly is wrong with you. But maybe everything. You have dreams every other day. They manifest from all the nasty scenarios you had written in your digital diary. You type away your experiences, thoughts and often sensual imagination on your computer almost daily.

You conclude that you must be stressed. The strange encounter at the cafe has left you rattled. So your mind has come up with a way of relief, although temporary.

The only difference is the presence of this…mysterious, faceless man. You can feel him, smell him, even address him, but never see his face. Part of him. But never his full face, nothing to visually recognise him. You simply know it's him.

It is one of your dreams again. This time, it is a tinted glass wall, high up in a skyscraper, where the world below seems like an ant kingdom. You feel the cool glass and the golden sunset. Your breath condenses against the glass with each huff.

It is a dream. You have come to realise every time this happens. It is a dream, but this time it is different. You have never written or imagined such a scenario.

But sounds of pleasure escape your throat nevertheless. You feel fingers slide across your neck, holding you still as your hips rock with his, the sensual rhythm and the delicious fullness of having him inside you elicit a breathy chuckle from you.

It is him. You know the touch, the cologne, the way he feels and the warmth he provides.

That's when you see it--the reflection on the glass, and your smile drops. This man behind you, pressing your naked body against the glass, smells and feels familiar, but is not the same you have dreamt about for so long. But it is the man you saw right outside the cafe that day.

The man with black eyewear, all dressed in black, hair brushed back and an air of authority that seems to command the room he walks into.

You gasp and try to move, but he keeps you pinned, still thrusting in and out of you, drawling out pleasure that keeps holding your rational mind hostage.

Your hands, once on the glass, come to hold or push him, desperate to turn around, yet too deep in pleasure to stop your movements or the spasming against his length.

“Wh–who—” is all you can manage.

“You know me.” His voice somehow sounds deeper, unfamiliar, despite it being the same voice you have heard in your dreams many times before. “You have to ask yourself.”

You feel his lips against your ear before his teeth clamp lightly over them, and you jolt forward. Your walls flutter uncontrollably, and you feel the slickness rolling down your thighs as he continues to thrust inside you. The flood of warmth makes your eyes roll back while a guttural moan escapes your throat. You gasp, claw and mewl, crying out in pleasure.

You are lit up in flames of desire– in this moment, you feel him filling inside you— filling your veins, mind and soul.

You open your eyes once more, damp lashes blink at the man pinning you against the glass, lazily thrusting to drag out the pleasure, before you are snuffed out of your dream world.

You wake up, glistening with sweat, and a sweet ache and emptiness between your legs. You hear the wetness and feel it. Thick and sticky, yet your mind is muddled enough to think it's only your own arousal. You fall into a dreamless sleep as soon as you wake up.

This time, you dream of a hazy figure in black, hovering over your bed, running his fingers through your hair.

—-

“Soon, I would need a red pill,” Neo says to Morpheus on the phone. He is one with the bustling market crowd, but his eyes never stray from your figure.

Your shoulders appear slumped, and your eyes are downcast. You are visibly exhausted, yet you carry on. Soon, you will be free from these meaningless burdens. Then, you can focus your energy on what truly matters, your relationship with him.

“What are you planning, Neo?” Morpheus’ voice turns slightly distorted other end “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the Matrixes that are not yet under our control?”

“She is important to me. Start preparing my apartment.”

—-

You think you are going crazy. But there is no proper sign of madness yet. Only you see that man everywhere. He is never right in front of you. No. You see glimpses of him. Like a shadow, you feel him everywhere you go, and see him from the corner of your eyes. But he disappears when you turn.

It becomes a regular occurrence, and you think you are slowly spiralling into insanity. But all the other aspects of your life remain undisturbed. You only see this mysterious man dressed in black from the corner of your eye

It started with the tail of his coat, the flowing fabric of a dramatic and rushed exit. You ignored it as any rational person would. But then, it turned to seeing the silhouette of a full-grown man from the corner of your eyes.

Every day, you feel him closer. You see a little more of him, like his pale skin, the dark eyewear and dark hair.

He just feels unreal. But he is very much real–you know it in your bones.

Every time you wake up at odd hours, you somehow expect the man looming over your bed. But you find no one. Nothing seems out of place, but your home does not feel the same. The air has shifted.

You cannot explain how, but it feels like you are no longer the only resident here. The door you remember closing turns out to be open, the windows you forgot to close before leaving are closed shut when you return, and there is this…smell.

Leather and fuel, along with hints of earthy fragrance. You have tried bringing your friends for a sleepover to see if they feel the same. But none of them seem to notice.

At this point, you are afraid to confide in any friend. What if they think that you are losing your mind? What if you really are losing it?

Your dreams become more vivid. The touches fell more profound. Not like they weren’t before. But you see more of him. And the more you see him in your dreams, the more you realise that the man in your dreams is eerily similar to the man you see from the corner of your eyes.

It must have been apparent that you're disturbed about something, at least to your friends at work. So they drag you for a fun Friday Night.

It turns out to be actually fun. You get to drink, eat, laugh and let loose a little. You find yourself on the dance floor, but no one is close enough. Yet you feel the static energy buzzing around. You are sober enough to feel the shift, but not enough to be truly alarmed.

You remain where you are, feeling suddenly braver. There is a buzzing need to ground yourself. You tell yourself that it will all go away once you face it head-on, whatever, or whoever he or it is.

But all thoughts evaporate when you feel the warmth of a palm over your swaying hips. The familiar touch jolts you awake from the haze. This time, it is different. This time, you are not in your bedroom; you are not asleep. You are awake, and you are at a nightclub. You are awake and among people, and yet you feel the familiar touch and the presence.

You feel his lips over your ears, his body pressing against yours. You smell him—leather and fuel. “Trying to run away from the truth?” You stiffen, yet your eyes flutter close in surrender.

“Thomas?” You do not know why you say that name, but it flashes in your mind, and your tongue rolls on its own.

Thomas? Who is Thomas?

You want to turn around, but he holds you firmly against him. Unlike the wild pace your heart has taken, you only feel his steady heartbeat. His lips brush against your ear with a deliberate movement. “My name…Is Neo.”

“Neo…” His name tastes like enchantment, and perhaps, you are already enchanted. You must have been too drunk, or simply lost any remaining sense of self-preservation, as you lean against him, testing his name on your tongue again.

So this is the man who haunts your dreams and infests your reality? Is he the final push to your descent into madness?

He takes your hand and leads you away from the crowd, towards the bar, where a man dressed similarly to him serves drinks to the patrons.

It's like you are in a daze— you let him lead you towards it. Maybe it is due to the joint you smoked with friends earlier? The lingering effects perhaps take away any sense of self-preservation.

He takes off his dark eyewear, and you get to look into his deep, calm orbs. He exudes an extraordinary sense of calm and authority, like you can hide nothing from him, like even if you choose to break into a sprint, it would be futile.

“Drink”, he offers you the red drink. Your hands reach out for it, even though your mind screams for you to stop. You pause and look at him. One nod of encouragement is all it takes for you to tune out every warning your mind throws at you.

It’s like you are devoid of any thought or free will. Your movements feel strange, drawn-out, unlike you. But you have no control over your own body. You take a sip. Despite the caution and confusion, the beverage tastes better than anything you have ever had.

“What do you remember about Thomas?”

You frown at the question, gazing at him while you take another sip of the irresistible drink.

“I…I don't know. It just slipped out.” You seriously have no idea. It was out of the blue.

“You aren't supposed to remember, but something in you does. This is a sign.”

“Wh-what sign?” You take a final gulp, finishing the drink while he tugs you towards the exit of the club.

You suddenly feel it, something solid and tiny passing down your throat along with the drink “Wh–what was that?” You finally feel like you are in control again and try to pull your hands away.

But his grip is iron as he drags you towards an isolated exit of the club. When he opens the door, you expect stairs, but are bewildered to find your living room.

“That, and this…” He turns to you, shutting the door, “... it's all a lie, a prison. I am saving you.”

He finally lets go, but you do not answer him, you are in no state to. Instead, you rush towards your apartment door, still in shock. Throwing it open, you find the common corridor you are familiar with.

“No...this can’t be.”

“She is not ready, Sir.” The other man states.

“She will be.” You vaguely hear him through your laboured breathing as you see thin lines of numbers appearing all around you. The colour green has never been more sickening.

“N–no…no. What’s happening?” You gasp out, feeling piercing chills all over, “I’m cold!” It’s like you are losing your voice, it comes in gasps and muffled “I’m cold!”

You try to scream, but you cannot. Your legs can no longer hold your weight, but ‘Neo’ wraps his arms around you.

He is warm, you vaguely realise, feeling the green almost blinding you. But you are still cold.

#yandere neo anderson #neo anderson #the matrix neo #yandere neo anderson x reader #the matrix #neo anderson xreader #after life

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