His breath hitched. He froze, fingers hovering over the keys. Was it a hack? A prank? Before he could rationalise it, the text scrolled again, faster this time, as if someone were typing with divine speed.

SO CURIOUS. SO DESPERATE TO KNOW.

A chill raced down his spine. It wasn't a glitch. It felt intentional and almost... sentient. He leaned closer, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, when the screen flashed a violent, brilliant emerald.

LET ME GIVE YOU A LITTLE TREAT TO REMEMBER ME BY.

Neo swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Who is this?" he whispered to the empty room, his voice trembling. He reached for the keyboard to type a query, but before his fingers could touch a single key, the command line hijacked his senses. A wave of warmth, unnatural and electric, washed over his skin, making his hair stand on end.

DON'T BE SCARED, LITTLE SEARCHER.JUST BE OBEDIENT.

The cursor blinked, demanding his attention. He felt a strange, magnetic pull, a compulsion to follow whatever the machine dictated. It was as if the code had bypassed his brain and plugged directly into his nervous system.

GOOD BOY. NOW REACH DOWN AND START STROKING.

The text on the screen pulsed with a hungry, vibrant light.

Neo’s hands trembled, a frantic battle raging between his logic and the overwhelming, digital command vibrating in his very marrow. He knew he should pull away, unplug the machine, and run.

But the code was a leash, and he was a dog yearning for the hand that held it. With a choked gasp, his hand moved of its own accord, sliding beneath the waistband of his trousers.

The sensation was electric, amplified by the terminal's presence. Every time his fingers closed around himself, a new line of code flashed on the screen, punctuating his pleasure with a cruel, divine rhythm.

YES. JUST LIKE THAT. FASTER, NEO. YOU’RE DOING SO WELL FOR ME. SUCH A DEVOTED LITTLE WONDER.

He was lost in the digital sea, drowning in a pleasure that felt more "real" than the physical world he thought he knew. His eyes were wide, glazed with a mixture of terror and intense, mounting arousal as his fingers worked with a frantic, mechanical precision.

FASTER, NEO. DON'T STOP UNTIL I TELL YOU.

The command hit him like a physical strike, forcing his pace to increase. He let out a broken, stifled moan, his head falling back as the green light of the monitor washed over his flushed face. He felt exposed, as if the very code of the Matrix was stripping him naked, watching his most private moment with a cold, predatory hunger.

THAT’S IT. GIVE IT ALL.YOU HAVE TO GIVE IT TO ME.EVERYTHING.

The terminal screen began to strobe, the green light turning into a blinding, rhythmic pulse that matched the frantic friction of his hand.

Neo was panting now, his chest heaving, his vision blurring as the digital commands bled into his very consciousness. He was being rewritten by them by the very instructions onscreen. Every time he neared the edge, the screen would flash a sharp, commanding

WAIT

or

HOLD IT,

forcing him to teeter on the precipice of a climax that felt like it would shatter his very soul, only to let him descend just enough to build the tension even higher.

He was a puppet, a toy being played with by a god in the wires, and the most terrifying part was how much he loved it. As the final, crushing wave of sensation began to build, the screen turned a deep, bruised violet, the text scrolling so fast it was almost a blur of pure command —

RELEASE.

The command was a thunderclap in his mind.

Neo’s body arched, a strangled, desperate cry tearing from his throat as he finally surrendered to the overwhelming pressure. He came with a ferocity that felt less like a physical release and more like a digital upload, his vision exploding into a kaleidoscope of green and violet fractals.

His fingers gripping himself with a frantic, dying strength as he poured everything his confusion, his fear, and his newfound devotion into the void.

As the tremors slowly subsided, leaving him slumped and gasping in the dim light of his room, the screen settled. The frantic scrolling stopped, returning to a calm, steady pulse. The violet hue faded back to that familiar, sickly emerald, but the air in the room felt different, heavy, charged, and undeniably occupied.

Neo sat there, trembling, his skin slick with sweat and his breath coming in ragged stutters. He felt the weight of an invisible gaze lingering on him, a phantom touch that refused to dissipate even as the physical sensation of his climax ebbed away.

He was spent, hollowed out, and utterly marked. His eyes, still glazed and unfocused, drifted back to the monitor. He expected the screen to be blank, or perhaps to return to the mundane lines of code he had been studying before his world was hijacked.

Instead, the cursor blinked once, twice, with a predatory patience.

CLEAN YOURSELF UP, NEO. YOU’RE A MESS.

A fresh wave of heat rushed to his cheeks, a mixture of shame and a terrifying, burgeoning addiction. He was a man of logic, a man who sought the truth of the world, but as he reached for a tissue with trembling hands, he realised the truth was no longer something to be found in books or data streams.

The truth was the voice in the machine. The truth was the command that owned him.

$ tag @twentytomidnight

$ join taglist

Chapter 1: Frozen Dough

Your favorite cafe closed a couple of months ago, and you’ve been devastated since. How can you not be? You have to look for one that’s just as cozy, open past three in the afternoon, and has pastries and coffee just as delicious as the one you frequented. And to rub salt in the wound, as you’re reminiscing on the simply delectable croissants, you are caught in the rain without an umbrella, like a dummy. Thankfully, you aren’t in the middle of nowhere, finding shelter in a cafe that you’ve been passing by every day. You never dared to step inside before, having been so distraught over your favorite place’s closure. Your mourning prevented you from checking it out, feeling as if you would be cheating on a relationship that had sailed away long ago. But today is the day, since you aren’t given any other choice. Well, you do have the choice of braving that downpour outside. But for some reason, you aren’t too excited over the prospect of getting soaked through to the bone. And besides, the place itself seems nice: warm, and homey.

You are greeted with a chime, and a pleasant, sing-song voice of a woman you can’t quite make out behind the counter. Smooth, jazzy music, and a pleasant aroma of coffee accompany your sopping wet shivers as you slowly make your way to the counter. You scrutinize every detail: the pastries behind the glass display, the decor, even a couple of other unfortunate patrons in the same predicament. You still feel like a cheating spouse, betraying your partner who had long passed; but coming in, and not ordering anything is worse than the unfounded way-too-personal feeling towards the place you’ll never visit again. As you come up to the register, you are greeted by that girl with a sing-song voice, and as you can now see, a very bright smile. You can’t help but smile back, feeling welcomed, and warm inside. You can even ignore your drenched shirt, and the feeling of betrayal. Her raven hair is carefully tied back in a high ponytail, her chocolate brown eyes look at you with the warmth that matches her smile, and her light brown apron only complements her features. It’s as if a warm cup of coffee you are craving materialized right in front of you. A gentle blush peppers your face as she asks you for your order. You stare at her for a moment, still stunned; as her words register in your mind, you stumble, trying to form a sentence. The woman chuckles while you’re looking for the right word. You can only muster up a couple of “um”s, and a singular “I’m still looking…”, trying really hard to look around at the various baked goods, and pastries. She hums a soft “Take you time”, and walks away to finish putting the rest of the pastries for the day on display. Just before she turns away, you catch her name, embroidered on the apron. Mary. You aren’t too sure what to do with this information, since you aren’t the type to call a barista by their name before they formally introduce themselves… But it’s good to know. Probably. You stare up at their drink menu, and consider if your months away from any cafes made you a socially inept weirdo who is unable to interact with people. You already know what you’re going to order. You always know what to order at a bakery to figure out if it’s worth coming back to. Coffee with an espresso base, and an almond croissant. If they mess up almond paste, they aren’t worth your time. It is an iron-clad method for anyone not allergic to nuts. If you are, a regular croissant should suffice, as well. You feel as if the thought is imposed on you, rather than being something that would naturally come up when you’re alone. You brush that feeling away. 

You take a long, deep breath, and look around some more. You suppose, since you already volunteered yourself to be “still looking”, you’ll do just that. There’s a plethora of pastries to choose from, as you begin to lazily follow the length of the display shelves. There is, of course, quite a wide selection of various croissants, and other flaky pastries on one side. On the other, among macarons and bon-bons, there are cake slices, and pastries with tiny handwritten signs. Leche Asada, Opéra, Brazo de Reina, Pavlova, Fraisier, Milhojas, various mousse cakes, and tarts. “They know their stuff,” you whisper. You begin to contemplate grabbing more than just a croissant, and a coffee. You don’t want to admit, but being surrounded by all these made-in-house sweet treats is beginning to give you a choice paralysis. Especially, since you’ve been depriving yourself of the joys of local bakeries after your previous heartbreak. Well, that, and the fact that you haven’t eaten all day. You want to taste everything, but you also know how corny it is to answer “Everything!” to someone asking what you want to order. So, for now, you are stuck in this self-imposed limbo of indecision. You’ll get there. Eventually. 

Your trance-like state is interrupted by a man’s silky voice that startles you awake. You frantically look around, thinking that he might be talking to someone else. At the confirmation that you are, in fact, the only one staring holes through the pastries, you look up. You are met with a man, maybe a smidge younger than Mary. Yet, as you look at him, it’s as if you’re looking at her spitting image, only with shorter hair, and lower voice. He has a similar pleasant smile, and gaze, with a hint of mischief that Mary’s eyes lack. Or a hint you missed behind the stuttering mess you made of yourself. And well, this gentleman doesn’t help you fix that mess as you swallow an attempt to suppress another blush creeping up your face. You might not be returning to this place not because you don’t like it here, but because you’re going to make such a fool of yourself that you’ll have to go into witness protection just to avoid the embarrassment. 

“You seem like you have some questions, lindo.”

Good lord. You blink slowly, trying to collect your thoughts. You cannot afford fumbling any harder than you have already. You need to FOCUS. You’re here for pastries, and coffee. You need to warm up. And you need to do some reconnaissance on the potential replacement for your long lost cafe love. You are a socially apt person. Your face is red because you’re just moments away from running a fever due to the rain. Not because you’re suddenly visually assaulted by the most beautiful baristas around. It’s their job to be nice to you. FOCUS.

“Um, yes… Your fraisier cake–do you put Kirsch in it?” You finally muster up a question. You don’t particularly care whether or not the strawberry shortcake has that tiny brush of cherry liqueur. But you can’t just stand there, mouth agape, staring at the handsome gentleman trying to help you. 

“We do,” he nods, his eyes dropping to your hands, tightly grasping the straps of your bag, before looking back up at your face. You begin to relax. If you can stir the conversation towards a more professional direction, you can ignore the rising heat in your chest. 

“There’s also Grand Marnier in our Opéra, if you worry about the liqueur," the man hums softly, giving you another once-over. “But something is telling me that you should grab something warmer.” 

With his words, you finally notice the shiver in your hands that you can’t subdue even by white-knuckling your poor bag’s straps. You are freezing. And you failed to notice that behind your ogling of the people behind the counter. Great. You are officially a weirdo. Maybe you may still have a chance to play it cool, and showcase your nonchalance by ordering like a normal person. Back to your checking-if-the-place-is-worth-it agenda, you need to get a cappuccino, and a croissant. That’s it. That is all you need to get. Nothing more, nothing else… You look back at the barista behind the counter. Okay, you might want to get something else. He seems trustworthy enough for you to fall for his upselling. Better word would be handsome, but you aren’t vain like that. You hold the silence for a couple moments longer, your eyes traveling over the pastries once more. Cappuccino, croissant, and a dessert of his recommendation. Yes. 

“I suppose, you are right,” you finally break the silence, with a shaky chuckle. From the shivering, of course. “I know what I want to order, but since it’s my first time, I’ll ask you for a recommendation…”

“Nulla,” he introduces himself with a cheeky smile. If you weren’t blushing before, you’d be blushing now. “You may call me Nulla.”

“And I do have a couple of recommendations to choose from.” Oh no, not a couple… How are you supposed to pick just one? 

“Our croissants are to die for, if I do say so myself,” he taps the glass, moving smoothly over to the register counter, so he can lean over for a better look at you. You take a couple of steps to follow him. You tilt your head curiously, intent on hearing him out. Even if you weren’t motivated by how handsome he is, you’d still listen. You need to know what you’re working with here to see if the menu is worth braving the absolute humiliation you just put yourself through to come back. After all, you do need to move on from your toxic attachment to the last place you frequented. It’s time to put yourself out there, so to speak. 

“Brazo de Reina is pretty cozy for the weather. Especially with coffee…”

Nulla trails off, describing how each dessert is delectable in its own way, seemingly forgetting that he was supposed to recommend just a couple of things to warm you up. You feel the passion in each word, and frankly, you are all too happy to listen to his euphonious speech for hours. You are warmed up just by his voice alone. It’s as if the two of you are acquaintances who haven't seen each other in a while, and only now are able to catch up. You lean on the counter to mirror Nulla, occasionally asking follow-up questions. He is so pleasant on the ear that you forget why he is talking about the pastries in the first place. It’s supposed to be a sales pitch, yet his love for the craft turns it into a passionate discussion of various sweets, and how they’re made. 

Well, that is until the two of you are interrupted by the loud slamming of a metal tray with unbaked croissants on the counter that makes the two of you jump. You look behind Nulla, where the ruckus came from, and you see another man–who looks damn near identical to the one in front of you–boring into Nulla’s back, and at you. Nulla rolls his eyes, his gaze not leaving your frame. You give him an awkward smile, and with a sardonic smile, he spins back around to look at the one who so impertinently interrupted your chat. Nulla props himself up by his elbows, leaning back on the counter, his shoulders relaxed. The casual gesture makes the loud one seemingly more upset, as you notice an eye twitch. Oh, you might witness a scene. Maybe even a catfight. You aren’t sure if you’re excited to see what’s going to happen, or worried about Mary potentially having to step in. You don’t know any of these people, yet you already feel protective over them, and their place. Okay, perhaps, you will be returning here, if only to witness if this hostility lends itself somewhere interesting. You aren’t particularly inclined to join the drama, but you’d be lying if you say that juicy workplace drama isn’t something worth witnessing from the bleachers. 

“Is the tray too heavy for you to carry, Neo?” He chortles. “Need some help?”

“Can you actually do your job, instead of chatting up customers? We have a bunch of orders for tomorrow,” the man named Neo hisses back. He definitely suppressed some choice words, based on the forced half-smile-half-scowl.

“I will. Once I’m done helping this beautiful person, of course.” 

“Maybe try being more efficient,” you see Neo’s fake expression slowly dropping. The two of them definitely do not see eye to eye. Or perhaps it could be sibling bicker. Too early to gauge. 

“Duly noted,” Nulla turns on his heels back to look at you with a cheeky smile. “How can I efficiently help you, bombón?” 

You blush at the nickname. Neo groans, heading to the back.

“Qué culiao…” you hear Neo speak under his breath.

“¡Culiao guapo, sí!” A sassy retort. 

“¡Ándate a la conchetumadre!” Neo’s vulgar yell sounds distant, and echoey as he disappears in the back of the kitchen, once more. 

“That’s why we keep you in the back of the house!” 

Nulla’s smile doesn’t drop as he is arguing with the man. Nor does he turn back the second time. His eyes are solely focused on you, expectantly waiting on your answer to his question. You are sure that he’d be way too good at poker, being able to maintain his composure so well. Or maybe, he gets a kick out of bickering with Neo. Or maybe it’s a two-way thing? Too little information to make assumptions. The only thing you can say for sure is: 

“He is… Charming,” you chuckle nervously, still shaken by the abrupt interruption. Looking to the side, where Mary was doing her thing, she is glaring at Nulla. She is, most definitely, waiting for your interaction to be over to give Nulla and Neo a smack to the back of their heads. Their fighting seems so homey that you can’t help but smile. 

“Not my first choice of words, but sure,” he chuckles back. 

“So, have you decided?” 

“I’ll take a cappuccino, pain au chocolat, and Brazo de Reina, please.” 

Valentine's Day… This wasn't a day that Neo had thought he'd ever particularly care for. Outside of the excuses (as if he needed any) to eat even more sweets or to bake them with his sister in the past, it wasn't something he cared for.

He wasn't a fan of all of that 'mushy gushy crap' as he'd put it. Seeing people and couples being all romantic with each other used to make him damn near puke in disgust, and even just thinking about it now was making him cringe a little— Eugh…

And yet, despite himself, that hadn't seemed to stop him from wondering… Maybe now, it would be just a little more bearable with you?

It was strange for him, really, finding himself counting down the days until a holiday that, up until now, he couldn't care less about (outside of the sweets, of course — and spending time with Mary and Rafael before). And, it was even stranger yet as he found himself meticulously searching through the memories that he could, trying to find the perfect places he could take you to celebrate that said holiday.

He'd even had the, what he considered to be absolutely insane, idea of possibly (to the best of his abilities) creating you and him a house to live in together from bits and pieces of his memories. Preferably, one with a decently sized kitchen, so the two of you could bake together. Or maybe, he could even cook for you! He's secretly hoping you'll help him clean up, though…

The moment the idea had popped into his head, and he'd processed it for more than a few seconds, he quickly tried to shake it away. The idea was ridiculous. It wasn't as if you were going to be staying there — He knew that better than anyone... or so he had once thought, at least.

You'd get bored eventually; God, he'd been so damn sure of that long ago. Before you'd started replaying his route of all of the ones available… His… ridiculously short, boring, unfinished, and pathetically lackluster 'route' — could you even call it a real 'route' at that point?? All you'd done with him before was just… met him briefly (which, by the way, was an absolutely horrible first introduction), and… listened to him before meeting him again, and…

… Well, he doesn't much like thinking about that now— How he used to treat you… He doesn't entirely know why, but it makes his stomach churn just thinking about it. Perhaps, it is some form of guilt that is eating him alive from the inside like an unforgiving parasite, or maybe it is something else entirely.

Whatever it is, however, he doesn't like to —nor does he want to— think about it. Especially not right now — not when he is in the midst of (attempting) planning out the perfect date for the two of you to go on this upcoming holiday!

"Dios mío… ¿qué me has hecho, mi alma…?" ("My God… what have you done to me, my soul…?")

He sighs the words aloud to (literally) nothing, though they hold none of the bite they would have if they had been uttered quite some time ago. Before he'd mistakenly broken the game — the best damn mistake he's ever made in his existence, he thinks. Instead, there's a small, tender smile gracing his lips at just the thought of you now, and the thoughts of what (hopefully fun for you) activities the two of you could do together.

During the days counting down to Valentine's, Neo had done his best not to give away his schemes to you, feigning nonchalance of the holiday coming up (he didn't want to spoil his surprises for you, after all). And although it was very difficult for him, he'd (somehow) managed to do such a good job that when the day did finally come, you were genuinely shocked when you'd opened your game that day to the usual save file with him, and while you did see him there ready to greet you (like he always was now), this time, his image looked a little bit different…

Instead of just his usual white button-up, black tie, and black pants combo that you'd gotten so used to, he's now added a black vest to his look (he did consider making himself a full suit, but it felt too stuffy…). The part that surprises you the most, however, is the small bouquet of colorful flowers in one of his hands that he's holding out to you, which you assume he must have retrieved from one of his memories.

The bright colors stand out immensely amongst his not only completely colorless body, but the completely blank white background behind him, as well. An oddly gorgeous mix of light yellows, blues, and pinks, accompanied with beautiful red roses and the greens of the flower's stems and leaves, all tied together with a rather pretty little white ribbon. It looks as though he'd put the bouquet together himself… as if he'd carefully picked out the bright colored flowers, tying them altogether just for you…

(Art by the lovely @offmoose!! <3 )

"Hola, cielito. ¡Sorpresa!~♡" ("Hey, sweetie. Surprise!~♡")

The smile gracing his lips right now as he greets you holds a palpable amount of excitement, as well as love. Although he is trying his very best to act as calm and casual as he can, the big grin on his face, accompanied with the small black blush dusting his cheeks —and what you swear are little hearts in his eyes— all give away that he is anything but 'calm and casual' right now.

It's rather obvious that he's been anticipating this day, this very moment, for what you can only assume is a decently long while now. The mental image of him impatiently waiting for today to finally come around, the small pout that was surely resting on his lips as he was counting down the days, hours, minutes, makes you smile and giggle to yourself.

As you take the beautiful assortment of colorful flowers from him, he takes one of your hands into his own. Though there's a bit of hesitance with how he holds your puppet's hand, his grip is still secure and gentle. His grin softens slightly, although it now looks a little uncharacteristically nervous.

"Venga conmigo. There's… something I'd like to show you…" (Venga conmigo. = Come with me.)

He doesn't wait for your response before he begins gently pulling you along to follow behind him, seeming to ignore the confused look on your puppet's face. You wonder what he could possibly want to show you, especially since it doesn't seem as though he's taking you out of this blank white 'void' (not yet, at least). You're made even more curious by how he said it, though. He seemed hesitant, speaking slowly, carefully, and his emphasis on… 'something' makes it seem as though it's very important…

And, you would be right. It doesn't take very long at all for you to spot something foreign within this blank white space. By this point, you've gotten so used to it being so… empty, that seeing what looked to be a structure (one with a very eerily similar sketchy messiness to Nulla's… he must have 'borrowed' some of it's assets, you assume) stood out immediately.

Once he deems that the two of you have gotten close enough, he stops and turns back to look at you as he takes a step to the side, allowing you to get a better view of the small and surprisingly beautiful, although a bit 'messy' looking, house. That small smile still remains on his face, and he seems eager to see your reaction, if not still a little anxious (but he will never tell you that, oh goodness no…).

The first thing he notices is your obvious confusion, accompanied now by even more obvious surprise, which elicits a (rather cute) light laugh from him.

"Ajajaja. I expected you to be surprised, but not this much so. Have I stunned you speechless, amor?~" (Amor = love)

There's an evident tease in his tone, and mostly rhetorical question, his eyes visibly softening when you turn to look at him and your gazes meet one another. For a moment, he just… stares into your eyes —stares directly at you and the utterly adorable look of bewilderment currently on your face— before he eventually snaps himself out of his daze.

He clears his throat as he averts his gaze back to the sketch-like house, still (unknowingly) holding your hand in one of his. He starts absentmindedly caressing it with his thumb —a habit he's (unknowingly) picked up since accepting his ever-growing attachment towards you— while rather awkwardly scratching his cheek.

"It took some digging through the files of the game and my memories, but I managed to put this together for your… for you and I to… stay in together…"

He speaks slowly, cautiously, as if he's walking on eggshells—

No, 'walking on eggshells' doesn't do how he's feeling right now nearly enough justice…

It's as though he is walking on a tightrope that is suspended over the world's deepest, darkest pit. And, should he say even just one thing wrong, he will end up slipping and falling off that rope and into that deep dark pit below where he will be swallowed up whole.

You catch it before he can 'correct' himself as well, however, and although you have a very strong feeling that you know exactly what he was going to say... you decide not to call him out on it. You can see how nervous he is already, see how tense his shoulders are, and feel how his grip on your hand has subconsciously tightened. You think ignoring his… 'correction' would be for the best — he deserves to dream, at the very least… Please, don't ruin that for him.

He then hums before looking at you again and speaking.

"I know it's not much, but… I hope you like it… mi alma♡." (mi alma♡. = my soul♡.)

Neo's dark eyes soften significantly as he speaks, his body turning towards you, likely without him even noticing it, like a sunflower turning towards the sun. It's natural, instinctual even. And, when he breathes out the (now) very familiar endearment, he does so as if it's akin to breathing for him. He says it with his entire… well, everything — you have become his everything.

The look in his eyes that are currently looking directly through your own is much serious, and vulnerable, than you're used to. Even after the swapping of their codes, Neo did still try his best to keep his… 'vulnerabilities' in check. He wasn't sure if it was a matter of him (attempting to) cling to whatever past dignity he used to have left before you'd all but tore those walls down with your foolish stubbornness, or something else. But, whatever it was… it didn't seem to matter, especially not anymore.

He loves you. He loves you so much, and truly… that terrifies him. He's obsessed with every little thing about you; every look you give him, every movement you make, every word you say. He's obsessed with everything about you.

And, in the beginning, he didn't want you to know that. He didn't want you to know just how badly he's fallen for you, just how much of a very terrifying impact you have made on him…

However, the more you have continued to spend time with him, even after he had accidentally swapped his and Nulla's codes, even after he's changed so much (because of you), and even after he has irreversibly broken the game… The harder it's gotten for him to keep it all hidden — and the less he cares about even doing so…

And, he fears he may be very well be reaching his breaking point; the point where he just… can't keep it all hidden anymore.

Ah, how fitting it would be if these terrifyingly overwhelming feelings of obsession, adoration, and love he's been developing for you all this time finally spilled out on the very day about love itself, wouldn't it?

Neo can't help the way his grin widens at your reaction to the house he'd 'made' for the two of you, nor can he seem to help the light-hearted laugh that escapes his lips. Your reactions are always the cutest, he swears…

He squeezes your hand that he's only just now realized he is still holding onto before he begins walking towards the house, lightly pulling you along with a big, elated smile on his.

"¡Ahora vamos, mi cielo!~♡ The breakfast I prepared for us isn't going to eat itself, you know! Ajajaja!~" (¡Ahora vamos, mi cielo!~♡ = Now come on, my darling/heaven!~♡)

Another laugh, full of genuine excitement (and love) leaves him, and you can't help noticing a few strands of his black hair (which you swear looks much neater today than usual) curling into small, adorable hearts at their ends, making you smile and even laugh a little along with him. You can't really help but to get excited yourself about whatever plans Neo has for the two of you today, especially not with how his own excitement seems to be radiating off of him like rays of light radiating off the sun…

You think this may very well be the first time you've seen him so... genuinely happy… And that makes you even more glad that you have decided to spend Valentine's with him♡...

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ajaja… I'm glad you decided to spend this day with me, too, cielito. Gracias por esto. :)

“Thank you for agreeing to this date despite your schedule.” You leaned forward with a bright smile. “Yeah yeah, you wouldn’t stop bothering me about it.” You felt your heart squeeze a little but the slight blush you noticed on Neo's face relinquished the pain and replaced it with a fluttery feeling.

Neo absolutely refused to call it a date, but the two of you had agreed to spend the afternoon together after his exams were done. “I’m only using you to unwind because you lightly amuse me with your stupidity.” He claimed as the two of you walked into the arcade near school. “Of course~” You shrugged it off as his usual “sarcastic” comments.

“Neo! It’s X you’re favourite character from-” He pushed his hand over your mouth and looked around hastily before glaring at you. “That’s not my favorite character and I only watch that anime because Mary forces me to!” He whispered through gritted teeth. So adorable, was all you could think about at the moment.

“Sorry…” You feigned guilt while staring at the claw machine. “I really like that character, so I’m gonna pull for it, for myself! Of course.” Your eyes looked everywhere but at him before rushing off to it. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but since he is, I’ll just get it for him!

After who knows how many times, you finally pulled X from the machine and you couldn’t help but display a bright smile as you ran over to him with a fluffy blushie in your arms. He stared at you with no emotion on his face but you could see his eyes linger on the plush with interest.

“Whatever, I wanna beat my highscore on that game from last time.” He passed you by leaving you to follow behind him. He was the definition of a sore winner, and if by chance you won he’d be the soarest loser. “Heh, Look how low your score is, you’re not even a worthy opponent!” “Huh?! You cheated! You didn’t- Then beginner's luck!”

After playing most of the arcade games the two of you left to your favourite diner. Well neo’s favorite diner.

You left the diner feeling a little down, despite having eaten for free as Neo insisted on paying. “You’re broke, let me do my charity work.” he shrugged when you thanked him. The two of you walked down the street as the sky became darker and the people on the streets lessened.

The walk had been mostly silent, you usually started conversation but you weren’t doing that now because of the heavy feeling on your heart. Neo seemed to be trying to start a conversation but he’d only ever start it with a snarky remark about you or someone which only added weight on the cloud of your head. “Sorry…” “Oh really?” “Mmm…”

“What’s up with you?” He turned to face you just as you finally reached your house. “Nothing?” You looked up at him surprised. “Oh please, You haven’t opened your big mouth this whole time and will barely look at me despite your obsession with me.” He rolled his eyes as he scoffed.

You felt two knives stab your heart “I-” You had nothing to say. If that’s how he saw you, then if nothing was wrong with you, now there was. “I’m just tired.” You turned to look up at him with the best smile you could give.

“I hate liars.” He glared at you before pulling you into a hug. You were first scared but then his hand rubbed your back and his other patted your head. “Neo-” “Shut up. I won’t be doing this again! So just know, that this is how I feel…” He pulled his hand over your eyes before pulling you into a soft kiss.

Your heart fluttered and time stopped for a moment before he broke it. His hand remained over your eyes and you could hear him take a deep breath “Take nothing I say seriously, just…let my actions speak for me, ok?” You nodded as a giddy smile grew on your lips. He stood behind you, his hand still over your eyes before he pushed you forward.

“Don’t you dare look back, or I won’t go on another date with you.” He announced but even when you reached for the door handle he still stood there silently. Let my actions speak for me, huh?

You turned around and were met with a passionate pair of inky irises gazing at you with a deep red hue decorating Neo’s cheeks and his hand over his quivering mouth as he tried to suppress a toothy smile. Only for a moment though, his hand then dropped and his eyes widened before he darted away. You couldn’t help but giggle and feel your heart overflowing.

So cute~

You opened the door to your home and were met with a black void, one that was familiar to you that usually appeared on your computer scre-

And then you woke up.

A/N : I don't actually hate neo, but there's also not much to like about him so it's up to the continuing acts of the game!

You walked into work one bright, sunny morning, coffee in hand, ready to start the day, when you saw him. Thomas. He sat at his desk, scrolling at his computer, absolutely not doing any kind of work.

Thomas was a grade-A creep. He'd buy you things and leave them at your desk. You swore he was taking pictures of you, but you couldn't prove he'd done it. You hated him with every fiber of your being and wished that he'd just stop existing already. Suddenly, his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"Hey..." Fuck.

"Hey Thomas," you said shortly, not at all interested in interacting with him. You sat at your desk and sat your bag on the floor next to you. You hadn't heard him walking over until he was right behind you.

"How was your weekend?" he spoke up. You had to hold back your groan.

"Fine," you muttered as you booted up your computer, wishing to any god that would listen that this could go any faster.

"Do anything fun?" he prodded, trying any way he could to extend the interaction.

"Thomas!" you finally snapped. You couldn't take it anymore. "Would you leave me alone?! I don't like you! I don't wanna talk to you! Just, go away! Please!" He stood there, looking a bit shocked and hurt.

"Right… yeah… sorry…" he muttered, walking away. For a split second, you almost felt bad, but you really just hoped he finally got the message. The rest of the day went by smoothly without any further interaction from him, and afterward, you went home.

The next day, Thomas didn't greet you like usual. He didn't even look at you. Just kept his eyes on his computer and stayed quiet. It was quite a pleasant surprise. Little did you know, the anger that was beginning to fester inside him. After all the gifts he left you, every time he'd been nothing but nice to you, this was how you repaid him? He wasn't going to stand for this.

You didn't see Thomas the next morning, which was odd. He never missed work. A chance to sit at a computer with no supervision? And get paid to do it? He wouldn't miss it for the world. You felt an awful pit in your gut, but tried to ignore it, figuring it was just leftover anxiety from the whole situation.

About a week later, you sat at your computer at home, scrolling through some forum you'd found while going down one of your usual internet rabbit holes. It was dark in your house, aside from the light from your computer screen. You were thinking about how odd it was that you hadn't seen Thomas. Maybe he got fired? Or found a new job? Either way, you were just happy he was gone, now you could finally work in peace. Your computer suddenly started to glitch, which snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked confused, watching the text on the screen glitch and distort. You attempted to click away, but you couldn't click, your mouse didn't work anymore. Your computer was no longer under your control.

You watched in horror as your computer glitched and crashed, suddenly making terrible screaming noises, causing you to clamp your hands over your ears. That was when you saw it. Or rather, him. There was a man stepping through your computer screen. You let out a scream as he suddenly launched at you, clamping a hand over your mouth. He was tall and pale, with black hair, slicked back, wearing all black clothing and sunglasses. It took you a minute, but you recognized him. It was Thomas.

"I really did try to be nice to you y'know…" he muttered, still pinning you to the floor. "You were all I thought about. All day, everyday. I bought you gifts, I constantly asked how you were doing, I'd give compliments on compliments, and this is the thanks I get? Being screamed at in front of the office." He had a firm grip on your jaw as he spoke, making sure you couldn't look away from him. "You should've just played nice… it would've been so much easier for the both of us…" You trembled beneath him, terrified and entirely confused. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." He gave a small smirk as he began to lean down toward you.

"We're going to have a LOT of fun now…"

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. He suddenly grabbed your hair, keeping a tight hold on it as he dragged you up onto the bed. You cried out, kicking and screaming at the burning pain in your scalp.

"Thomas!! Stop!!" you screamed, attempting to kick at him. "Let go of me!!"

"Stop squirming, you little-" he cut off as he tossed you on the bed. You let out a cry as the back of your skull hit the headboard, causing the whole room to spin.

"You couldn't have just listened, could you?!" he shouted before leaning down to mutter in your ear. "Now I have to take what I want…"

With that, he began to rip off your clothes. He wasn't nice anymore; he was letting out every ounce of frustration that had been pent up inside him for so long. You attempted to stop him, but the room was still spinning and all you could do was let out a whine in protest as you lightly nudged his hands which he easily worked through.

He tore open your shirt, causing buttons to fly off as he exposed your torso. You huffed, once again attempting to push him off. You were beginning to regain your strength and he didn't like that. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head.

"You're not getting out of this…" he growled, lifting your wrists to tie to the bars of the headboard. Wait…tie…? How did he-? You look up to see he's tied you up with computer cables??? Where the fuck did those come from?? With your still-blurry vision, you look back to him, finding computer cables have just kind of… appeared.

"What the fuck is going on?!?" you cry out, confused and scared.

"You're not escaping me, sweetheart… Not any time soon…" he murmured, wrapping one of the cables around your throat. He proceeded to remove the rest of your clothes before moving to his own. However, he could barely keep his hands off you long enough to fully undress, latching his lips onto your neck as he slid his pants down just enough for his length to spring out.

"Thomas… please don't do this…" you begged, your voice little more than a desperate whine. He just laughed.

"It's a little too late for that…" he muttered, "But if you beg hard enough, I might be a bit nicer about it… maybe I'll even make sure you like it…" He let out an awful laugh that shook you to the core.

You put your dignity aside in an attempt to spare yourself the trauma. However, as you begged and pleaded, you felt your core begin to heat up. It had been a while since anyone had touched you, especially like this. You couldn't help it, especially as his fingers teased your entrance. It was almost hypnotizing, the way his fingers were circling your clit and running up and down between your lips.

"I can feel that… you getting all wet for me…" he let out an ugly little laugh that made you wish so badly that it wasn't true.

"Fuck you," you spat angrily. He just sneered, moving closer and suddenly shoving himself into you as he tugged on the cable around your neck. You let out a loud cry, not expecting the sudden intrusion. "Fuck!"

"Hey, you asked for it, sweetheart…" he muttered, evilly snickering as he settled on a quick pace, leaving you whimpering and moaning as you struggle against the cables still constricting your hands.

You hated how good it felt. You hated how much you needed this. Your body was betraying you. He pounded into you until all you could smell was sweat and sex. The sounds of heavy breathing from the both of you bounced off the walls, echoing back at you.

He leaned down to kiss you and you didn't lurch away. You kissed him just as hungrily. He noticed and swiftly upped his pace, moving quicker. He pulled back to look at you, the both of you drenched in sweat.

"I knew you'd like this if you just gave me a chance…" he whispered breathlessly, gazing down at you. You breathed heavily, your gaze locked on his. You began to feel that pressure building up and you gasped softly.

"Don't fucking stop…" you demanded, causing an evil little grin to spread across his face.

"Oh, but sweetheart, I'm not anywhere near done with you…" he muttered, slowing his pace. He kept you right on the edge for a while. The whole time, your body was desperately attempting to reach climax, your hips rocking in time with his.

"Fuck… faster, god dammit!" you growled, growing frustrated. He let out a mocking laugh.

"Alright, alright, calm your tits…" He suddenly sped up, thrusting into you harder than before. You gasped, your back arching against the bed. He practically shoved you into your climax as you cried out, shaking and panting as your hips rocked, allowing you to ride out your high. Shortly after, he thrusted deep into you, letting out a grunt as he spilled inside you, his body shaking. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily.

After a moment, he weakly lifted, looking down at you. You locked eyes, just staring at each other before he leaned in and kissed you lightly. You kissed him back, the both of you sharing a surprisingly tender moment after all that.

"Sorry about… that…" he muttered weakly, still panting lightly.

"Yeah, whatever, just untie me, ya prick…"