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makeyoumine69 · 26 days ago

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Last Memory (Memory Reboot x5)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Some time after Patrick and Evelyn got married, Bateman thought he could live a normal life and finally forget about you, but he didn't realize that he was already starting to lose his grip on reality, slowly but surely.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, Patrick's POV, angst, lots of sex, canon violence, blood, near-death experiences, dark themes, obsession, strong hallucinations, blowjobs, pussy eating, rough vaginal and anal sex, cum eating, tainted love vibes, drug use, depressing thoughts and intentions, blackout and fainting, rough choking, spanking, masturbation, cheating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, degradation kink, self-harm and panic attacks implied, unstable Patrick is a warning himself, I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long af, so forgive me if I really did.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 15k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Narvent—Last Memory; Timecop1983—Back to You

ᴀ/ɴ: Hello dear readers, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I just wanted to make this chapter as good as possible! After several rewrites, I think I am finally happy with the result. I'm very sad that Memory Reboot will end in the next update, but I hope you enjoy this angsty story! Also, there are some easter eggs in this chapter, so be on the lookout! And please be aware that there is a lot of trigger material in this chapter, so be careful! Thank you so much for sticking with me, you are all incredible!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]

An annoying, sonorous alarm sound woke me up and I had to hit it with my fist, almost breaking it, to make it fucking stop. Yawning, I sat on the bed and realized that I was still in Evelyn's apartment; these cream-colored sheets made me want to cry from how much I hate them, but instead of ripping them off, I stretched my arms. The tension in my body, coursing from my shoulders down to my groin, was an eloquent sign that I needed release. With a loud groan, I stood up and briefly grabbed my dick through my white underwear, which seemed to have been hard all night since that bitch Evelyn, who was my wife by the way, refused to have sex again. It was the second time in a row. Sliding my messy hair back, I walked into the living room and noticed that Evelyn had already left. I sighed with relief that I didn't have to see her irritated face since I was already on the verge of going nuts.

In the kitchen, I took the bottle of Evian from the fridge and made a long gulp before checking the time on my Rolex, frowning right away as I remembered Evelyn yapping about me always keeping them on, even when I went to bed.

God, why can't women have their mouths shut sometimes?

With a wry grin, I placed the bottle on the counter and paused for a moment to check my reflection in the gleaming metal door of the refrigerator. Today’s day in the office was going to be tough as hell since I had a fuck ton of stupid meetings I tried to convince Jean to cancel, but she reassured me that it would be too rude to ignore my business partners for too long. Hmmph…

A bit later, when I was almost finishing my work out, I suddenly realized that it had already been two months since me and Evelyn got married. And no, I couldn’t really believe this since all days were like one long day—a day that seemed to never end. Huffing, I did another push-up, the 50th in a row, feeling not tired at all. Small beads of sweat rolled down my tensed forehead and I could care less about brushing them off as I was so focused on the pleasant feeling of my muscles flexing each time my chest almost touched the mat. Normally, sports could easily help me to distract myself, to let off steam, to feel refreshed and clear-headed, but now I was more detached from reality than ever before. And it seemed that no amount of exercise could help. Also, my condition was aggravated by the lack of sex, proper sex. When my muscles finally began to hurt, I stopped doing everything and just lay on the mat, panting and looking at the ceiling above. Then, I slowly looked down at my groin—still hard as rock–before my hand involuntarily grabbed it, eliciting a small gasp to fall from my wet lips. Fuck, I was about to explode from my own touch. That was not normal at all. It was pathetic.

Frustrated, I was certain that even a quick release in the shower wouldn’t soothe my mounting tension. It never did, considering that over the past few days I couldn’t even sleep, and what was worse was that even violence couldn’t bring me this much-needed relief. As I made my way to the bathroom, I was thinking, literally drowning in my obsessive thoughts.

I need more…I really need to get this done. I REALLY NEED IT! I NEED THEM!

I bit my lip and turned on the shower, then got rid of my white boxers, stepped out of them, and strided on the cold marble. The water washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and let the steam splash along my flushed face. My skin felt like it was on fire, as if I were about to crash into the sun. I couldn't find any way to relax. I felt desperate and angry. I was pretty mad, too. But would killing you have helped me find peace?

If I knew you were gone, if no one could ever be with you the way I was, would that be what I wanted?

I let out a deep, exhausted sigh and pressed my forehead against the wet tiles, ignoring the way the tip of my cock brushed against the wall, sending tingles into my very core. The images of you covered in blood, trapped beneath me, almost sent me over the edge. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, though, because I knew it would lead to addiction. As if I weren't already hooked. My breathing got a little uneven, and I started scratching at the white tiles as I got hit by a sudden, intense rush of memories. I remembered your voice, your moans, and the way you screamed my name. I wanted to ruin you, to make you bleed, to tear you apart and leave you just like you left me. The pain you caused was so deep, it lingered. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't realize what I was doing. I let my hand rest on my throbbing length while the fingers of my other hand slid down my lower back, right between my legs. The moment I touched my tensed asshole, I moaned. I was loud and needy. I was embarrassed but also aroused. I thrust into my hand, slowly at first but gradually losing control, while my digit slid inside my ass completely with ease. I couldn't hold back my whimpers as I was about to cum. My vision was filled with blood, intensifying my fantasies about you. With my eyes closed, I was on the brink of losing it when I suddenly heard some commotion coming from behind the bathroom door.

"Damn!" I groaned and hit the wall in front of me, my dick pulsing even after I let go of it.

"Honey," Evelyn's voice echoed through the bathroom. I turned to see her casually walking to the shower, her blue eyes curiously examining my bare frame as if she was seeing me like this for the first time. "You didn't close the door."

Fuck, I really didn't.

Scrunching my nose, I pushed my wet hair back and spun around completely, giving her the full view of my nakedness. "I thought I'd leave before you got back..." my reply was brash and sharp. "...at least I hoped so."

Evelyn didn't react, she just stood in front of the shower, blinking and staring at me—at the way the water flowed down my sculpted body, to be exact—and something told me that just watching wasn't going to be enough for her.

"So... are you just going to stay and watch?" I said aloud before opening the glass door and letting some steam out of the shower.

The blonde grinned broadly but remained motionless. "You're not trying to bait me like that, are you?"

Jesus Christ, this woman is really driving me crazy.

Irritated, still struggling with my boner, I wanted to drag her into the shower without even asking and make her freshly bought Chanel suit so fucking shitty that she would definitely throw a tantrum, but I managed to control myself.

Leaning against the wet glass, I watched her unclasp her jewels, gems that shone in the dim bathroom light, my hands instinctively slipping down to my aching cock as I was now the one watching Evelyn take off her jacket, the delicate shape of her collarbones forcing me to admit that my wife was, after all, absolutely gorgeous and even though I didn't feel anything... sublime towards her, I couldn't deny that every time she did things like that, she stirred up a burning desire in me.

"What if I do?" My voice dropped lower from the tension building at the base of my spine. "You'll find another stupid excuse to deny me, like you always do?" I gave myself a slow stroke, biting my lips and quickly licking them as Evelyn removed her blouse and placed her leg on the edge of the tub, pulling up her skirt so I could see her black stockings. "Why didn't you go for Bryce when you had the chance?"

My body stopped listening to me as I said these words, as if I was hypnotized, but I felt no remorse, only a pang of conscience for how pathetic I probably was right now, standing in the shower jacking off to the woman I didn't really love, who was probably having an affair with my best friend all this time as a bonus.

"And you're bringing up Bryce again," Evelyn murmured, grinning like a vixen, her hands working meticulously to remove her stockings, stopping only when she was done with her expensive clothes, leaving herself only in a white Vanity Fair lingerie I'd bought her a few days ago to stop her hysteria. "Why is this only bothering you now...after we got married?"

"W-what?" I almost choked on my breath, my hand around my cock stalled in its momentum. "What are you talking about? It...it never bothered me."

Still, her words struck a chord within me and now I was even more angry with myself than before. Evelyn obviously thought she was in control of this situation—her extra confident demeanor, the way she moved and talked, even her blue eyes looked different now, as a wicked spark glinted in them.

For a fleeting moment, I just stood there, trying to lose myself in the warm streams of water, not really knowing what to say, and a suffocating panic crept into my chest, but then, as I found myself gripping the glass shower door with all the force I could muster so that it wouldn't shatter, my vision blurred for a second before I noticed Evelyn's slender body pressed against the glass, her small but pretty breasts looking so damn inviting that I couldn't hold back a groan.

"What were you saying?" She asked indifferently, the water gurgling mixing with her voice inside my head pulling me into a trance.

"Nothing," I replied, leaning forward and pressing myself against the glass door from the opposite side, my dick brushing against it ever so slightly, but even this mere contact made me close my eyes for a dear moment. "I said nothing..." my eyes darkened, pupils dilated. "Now...get in...will you?" I grinned and tilted my head, watching my wife flutter her thick eyelashes like bird wings.

Evelyn didn't answer, standing still with her body pressed against the shower door, and I couldn't hold back anymore—I just dragged her in, not caring about her expensive lingerie getting soggy—I'd buy her a new one if I had to. With a surprised squeal, she then giggled as the streams of water ran down her fit body, her elegant fingers stroking my cheek for a fleeting moment before I picked her up and turned her around to press her against the cool marble wall. Evelyn's gasp echoed through the bathroom, sending a shiver down my spine, as if I were really into her, into all of this, and if that was not me imagining you in her place, if that was not making me want to be somewhere else right now.

Somewhere where nobody could find me. Us.

"Patrick," Evelyn's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Can you hear me? The water's too hot..."

"Too hot?" I repeated, finding her statement so funny for no reason, but I cooled the water with my free hand anyway, still holding Evelyn in my arms as if she weighed nothing. "I'd say something like..."

"It's not the water that's making it hot, it's me," she cut me off, her face turning into a serious grimace, and for a second I felt like I was going to lose my shit. Is she making fun of me? "I've heard that enough, honey."

Frowning at that fucking nickname I really hated, I noticed the way she was pressing on my shoulders, implying that she wanted me to get her down on the floor, and I did—I didn't want to think, I didn't want to guess what was going through her mind—I just wanted to follow. To feel at least something beyond hatred and disgust. But I guess that was too much to ask.

Without saying a word, I knelt before Evelyn, leveled myself with her perfectly waxed pubic area, her breath hitching as I planted a soft kiss on her mound before tracing a finger along her wet from the water folds through the absolutely drenched fabric of her panties, which were now clinging to her like a second skin. I looked up at her with a mischievous grin, the water hitting my eyes painfully, but I held on to watch that raw need emanating from her body—savoring it like a vampire thirsty for blood.

My actions were smooth, calculated. When I got rid of her damp lingerie, I let the wet clothes that were now spread out on the shower floor fall to the ground, forgotten, and I was sure that Evelyn would have to throw them in a garbage can when we were done. The involuntary arch of her back, her hips brushing against my face and the moan she let out when the tip of my tongue flicked around her feverish clit, that was something I could live with.

Letting Evelyn grind against my face, I began to eat her pussy more feverishly, my one hand holding her open while another was wrapped tightly around my hard dick as I jerked off in sync with my oral ministrations. It was actually a turn-on, but only because I managed to block out all thoughts of you... In another situation they would have helped me to orgasm, but now... now they would only destroy everything.

I groaned when Evelyn pulled my hair harder than I liked, but I didn't want to punish her for it, not now, because I was still going to fuck her and this would be a perfect moment to show her how I felt and what I really needed. But then again, all of this made me feel pathetic in some odd, twisted way, that I was a starved dog who had to struggle to find barely any food to survive—what was my life—I was not living, I was surviving.

"Yes...yes...just like that," Evelen keened again as I tongue fucked her flushed cunt. "Keep...g-going..."

I could feel that she was so close to collapsing, it was kind of amusing how fast I could always make her cum, if only she knew that I always did it for myself, not for her, but for me. "Cum around my face," I spat out, my overalls buzzing from the tensind at the base of my cock; these little tingles were going to make me explode, but I didn't hesitate, increasing the pace of my own stroking. "Let it go. Now!"

My voice was muffled, gruff, I was sure its vibration only added to the overwhelming rush of bliss that was about to descend upon my wife as her legs began to tremble, her thigh on my shoulder jerking as I dipped my tongue inside her while my thumb caressed her oversensitive bud. And then she climaxed, convulsing and barely holding herself from screaming, I watched as she silenced herself with her palm, her eyes closed tightly, I reveled in such reactions, I always had, so I didn't stop as I wanted to prolong this scene—a scene full of fake emotions and this was just an echo of something I had experienced and lost— because if I stopped, I would fucking die.

Maybe this is what I always needed? Just to...stop existing?

Panting, I finally moved away from her hot, now swollen cleft, my own heart pounding so fast, but I couldn't move, I just stayed on my knees, the water falling on me like a heavy rain from that day I followed you to the airport and watched the plane take you away from me. For the second fucking time in a row.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was slowly coming down from her high, her chest heaving and falling so fast that for a moment I thought she was going to pass out, but then she turned and leaned against the wall, swaying her hips in the most inviting gesture I'd ever seen her make.

"Shit," I murmured almost imperceptibly, my basic instincts finally taking over. "You want me to fuck you?"

Gasping, she nodded and craned her neck to look back at me, I quickly stood and hugged her from behind, my lips tracing a short trail of kisses along her shoulder as I aligned myself with her entrance, she was so aroused and ready for me that I felt no resistance as I pushed myself into her malleable body. Just a few fleeting seconds for both of us to adjust before my pace picked up, the sound of wet flesh against flesh filling the room, and I pressed closer to Evelyn, her high-pitched moans fading in my delusions as I gave in—the images of you were so clear in my mind now that I clenched my teeth to hold back my own moans—I was weak and I hated myself for it.

Luckily Evelyn was on the pill so I didn't have to worry about a sudden pregnancy, but there was still some fear I tried desperately to ignore, my thrusts became ragged, raw and deep, I was about to spill myself inside her, both palms cupping her breasts, rubbing soft mounds, but then I squeezed them quite roughly and Evelyn's loud whimper was a sheer testament to my ferocity. Feeling my whole system shatter, I managed to stop myself from sinking my teeth into her neck as my vision turned white as I reached my peak with your name on my lips, though I never let myself say it out loud.

A little later that morning, as I dressed in my freshly tailored dark charcoal flannel double-breasted suit with wide white pinstripes, the sun was high in the zenith and its rays bathed Evelyn's bedroom in a soft golden hue. This brief encounter of intimacy with my wife gave me some hope that maybe there was still a chance to live a normal life, the one my mother and father always wanted for me, the American dream family they always told me about, but my parents never really tried to understand me, but since Sean chose a different path in life, not the RIGHT one, the legacy of my family fell on my shoulders.

Trapped in my thoughts, I didn't even notice the phone ringing somewhere next to me, I turned around to see a small black phone on the nightstand. At first I decided to ignore it, since I didn't really care about Evelyn's business, I didn't care at all, but this time something inside of me started to sting.

Who can call her at this hour?

With a soft click of my tongue, I finished adjusting my cufflinks and looked back at the buzzing phone, deciding to pick it up and find out who the hell was calling my wife. "Yes? Who's this?"

"Hello, Patrick," your voice crawled into my brain like a parasite, I swallowed, my skin covered in goosebumps and I sweated almost instantly. "How's it going? Don't you think it's a bit pathetic to think of me when you're banging your lovely wife?"

"You?" Was the only thing I managed to say. "Where did you get this number?"

I heard you laughing as if you were right next to me. "Tim gave it to me," you replied with blatant audacity. "Uh...you're not happy to hear me? That's a shame because I thought you missed me."

"Listen," I spat into the phone, gripping it so tightly that it was about to break in a half in my hand. "I don't know who you think you are...but believe me when I say I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FUCKING LIFE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Patrick? Who are you talking to?" I turned to see Evelyn standing in the doorway, her blue eyes full of concern.

Caught red-handed, I took the phone away from my ear and chuckled. "It's just...a random call...nothing serious." When I said that, her face became even more worried. "Is something wrong, darling?"

Evelyn blinked several times before answering. "I definitely remember turning off the phone before I went to sleep...I always do..."

Her words hung in the air for some time before I could actually continue, and when I finally did, I tugged at my collar from the sudden lack of oxygen in my lungs.

What the fuck?

Under Evelyn's attentive gaze, I looked up at the receiver as if seeing it for the first time in my life, then I pressed it to my ear again and all I heard was silence—a deafening, eerie silence—even a single beep could not be discerned. My throat tightened uncomfortably and I felt like throwing up from the tight knot in my stomach, for I'd never felt such fear before.

"Patrick...are you okay?" The blonde woman asked, not daring to come closer. "Are you taking the medicine your psychiatrist prescribed you..."

"Evelyn!"

"No, I'm serious! This isn't funny Patrick, I'm scared," she suddenly confessed and I swore I couldn't remember seeing her so worried. "You need help...why don't you let people help you?"

With that Evelyn stormed out of the bedroom and I was sure she was crying. Damn women, never give you a chance to explain yourself. I cursed before slamming the phone down on its station with a thud, probably shattering the plastic, but who fucking cared? All they cared about was whether I was taking those fucking pills, but no one really cared about...me.

It took me some time to calm down and finally go to work. I didn't talk to Evelyn before I left, as it was pointless in her current state. As soon as I was outside, I breathed in the fresh air and watched the passers-by walking here and there without even noticing each other, this scene I saw every day, I picked out my Walkman like in a slow motion movie, put the headphones on my head and then attached it to my belt, the next moment I heard Madonna's deep voice surging through my head.

The taxi ride to the Pierce & Pierce office took longer than usual because of the heavy traffic. When I finally entered the high-rise building, I didn't take off my headphones because I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I just walked through the long corridors like a ghost without a name. It was really interesting that I never really thought about my fucking coworkers constantly messing up my name—they didn't know who I was even though we met every week—but you—you remembered it so clearly, there wasn't a single day that you mistook me for someone else. Jean greeted me as always with her sweet smile. Today she wore a dress and high heels. I smiled at such details and pulled up my headphones so I could hear her.

"Did I miss anything?" I asked casually, thinking I was late as I often was.

Brushing her blonde hair, my secretary rose from her seat, clutching her favorite notebook to her chest. "Timothy Bryce called to ask about lunch."

My eyebrows raised in skepticism at her words.

Bryce. Wants to see me after not talking to me for almost a week. Interesting.

"Uh, right, but I thought I had a pretty busy schedule today?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Well, yeah," she quickly opened her notebook and then raised her bright eyes to me. "But you have a little window..."

At some point, Jean's voice became as much white noise as Madonna's song, the lyrics of which slipped away from me like a leaf in the wind. The thought of Tim finally revealing that he and Evelyn were having an affair behind my back, as if they really thought I could be stupid enough not to notice, brought me a strange sense of relief. It was like an itchy splinter in your finger that you couldn't bring yourself to pull out, but you knew that the longer it stayed there, the worse it would get.

"Okay, Jean," I heaved abruptly. "Be a doll and make a rez in a good place. Then call Bryce back."

Jean was noticeably confused, but I was too overwhelmed with my own chaotic thoughts that there was no room for anything else. With a devoted nod, she returned to her seat and I opened the door to my office, where everything was the same, all things in the places I had left them. At least there seemed to be something constant in my life.

The rustling of chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates mingled in a wild cacophony of sounds I was quite familiar with—I was born in the middle of this madness, to say the least, the lush life of people like me was something you couldn't really avoid, though I never tried to avoid it, I enjoyed every little benefit I got from being rich.

So now I was sitting in Delmonico's lash interior, holding a glass of J&B on rocks in one hand and a cigar in the other. I waited for Bryce to come and soon I noticed his approaching figure, his black hair slicked back as usual, and I even chuckled at how fucking punctilious this man always was. Tim ordered a glass of Russian vodka and some seafood appetizers. After a short casual conversation we both fell silent and just when I was expecting him to tell me the reason why he wanted to see me, he suddenly picked up a shiny cardholder and put it on the table, then took out a pack of cigarettes to grab one.

"New cardholder?" I asked, definitely remembering that Bryce used to have a different one. "Looks...nice."

"It's platinum," Timothy commented before lighting his cigarette, his gray eyes scanning the room before focusing on me. "It's a gift...from our mutual friend."

Friend?

I almost bit the inside of my cheek to the point of bleeding. "Really?"

Bryce let out a puff of smoke and pointed to my empty glass. "I heard you quit drinking," he grinned and dabbed the ash from his cigarette. "That you're on... some medication."

"I wonder who told you that," my jaw almost snapped in anger, I had to claw at my knee to regain some composure. "And yes, I had to take medication for a while...but I'm on a break now." I hoped he could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn't going to continue this conversation. "Who else would know how it works better than you since you went through rehab. Am I right, Bryce?"

I knew how much he hated talking about it, so his recent bravado faded like a cloud of smoke, but his cheeky grin never left his face.

"I get it, I get it," he laughed softly before sipping his drink. "You definitely got off on the wrong foot today, but it's okay," the man swirled his glass in his hand, watching the ice cubes clink against its walls. "I just wanted to tell you that... you're definitely missing something. Or maybe I should say—someone."

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. "Maybe you can tell me something more...specific, or are we going to play that crappy guessing game?"

Bryce shifted in his seat and wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by two familiar voices—Craig and David.

Shit, why did those two idiots have to come right now?

The moment was ruined, and so was I.

"Wow, I can't believe my eyes! See, I told you they had a date," McDermott let out a loud chuckle, my fists clenched, and if we were somewhere else, preferably alone, I'd fucking break my glass against his smug face. "I called Jean and she said you two were having lunch together. Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh, fuck you, McDermott!" Bryce retorted, but he wasn't really angry. "Fuck you and your cheap jokes. Your sense of humor is as flat as the ass of that chick you met in the Tunnel yesterday. Besides, how was she?"

The Tunnel, that damn club that started all this shit. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the unwelcome memories of that day, but all I wanted to do was leave this place. Bryce's words became a breaking point, they helped a cup of weights to turn to another side without him even knowing it. Slowly I rose from the table, ignoring any questions, dismissing them with a clumsy gesture.

This evening was destined to be spent in the Tunnel after everything that happened today. I didn't tell anyone about my spontaneous venture to find some escape in the nightclub full of drug-addicted chicks and yuppies like me. My mind was racing with the idea of doing some coke, all I had to do was find the dealer that Bryce and I always hang out with and get a gram. A very simple plan to forget about all the shit that was going on in my life for a while.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.

As I strolled across the dance floor, I noticed the bar was pretty empty, so I decided to have a drink before finding the dealer, as the glass of whiskey I had at lunch was not enough. The bartender greeted me with a polite smile as he cleaned the bar.

"Good evening, sir," the man took a shiny glass and set it in front of me. "What would you like to drink?"

"A J&B straight and a Corona." I replied, taking a seat and fumbling for my wallet.

The bartender nodded and went to get my drinks. While I waited, I looked around when I noticed the only person sitting at the bar—it turned out to be a redheaded girl, a very good looking one—I hummed to myself, absolutely sure that such a girl was definitely not alone tonight.

"Your drinks, sir." The bartender placed an open bottle of Corona next to my glass, now filled with my favorite whiskey.

"Thank you." I handed him a few bills before he could even tell me how much I had to pay.

The young man babbled something incoherent that I couldn't even make out, but after I gave him a dead stare, he just took the money and finally left me alone. Annoyed, I checked the time on my Rolex before grabbing a bottle of Corona to take a sip, but I was interrupted again. This time not by the bartender.

"Hey," a soft female voice hung over my ear, sending a massive wave of excitement through me. I turned to see that the chick from the other end of the bar was now standing so close to me that I could smell her flowery perfume. "Are you here alone?"

I wish I could say that, but my thoughts of you were always here, with me, but instead of saying that bullshit, I nodded and grinned, checking her body in the most humiliating way, thinking it would scare her away from me, but the gleam in her green eyes only increased after my move.

God, she doesn't know what she's asking for.

"Yeah, you could say that." I smiled again as she sat down next to me. "What about you?"

The girl leaned against the bar, her ginger hair cascading down her elegant shoulders, and for a moment I couldn't take my eyes off her. "I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight, but...you know how it is...most men are total jerks."

I could barely keep myself from bursting out laughing. "Did someone offend you?" She played with the gold bracelet on her wrist and nodded shyly, a move I suddenly found very sexy. "Do you mind if I get you a drink?"

"First, tell me your name," she muttered in a challenging way—a blatant provocation that I ate like a starved man. "Then I'll think about it."

This girl is so sweet, I bet her insides are the same.

At first I wanted to use a fake name, like I always did, but then I just gave her my real name, because in the end it would make no difference. "Patrick....Patrick Bateman," I finally took a sip of Corona and savored the taste. "And you?"

"Nicole," the girl said, still fiddling with her jewelry. "But I used to have a lot of different names."

"I like this one," I chuckled, smiling charmingly. "It suits a girl like you."

"A girl like me?"

"A beautiful girl...very beautiful I must say." My voice was deep and soft like silk, I noticed the way she straightened her shoulders, slowly but gradually relaxing.

"You really think so?" She asked me, her eyes roaming over my mischievous face, then down to my lips.

Instead of answering, I just smiled in the most enchanting way possible before calling for the bartender to order her a drink. Nicole and I talked for a while—she told me she was from Canada and didn't really have any friends in New York—it was strangely satisfying but I tried to be sympathetic and supportive even though my mind was so far away from here. The ginger girl didn't even notice how she finished one cocktail and then another, while I didn't even touch my whiskey, just idly sipped my bottle of Corona because for some reason I wanted to be as sober as possible.

As the club was getting more and more empty, Nicole was ready to give me a blowjob right at the bar, but I convinced her to go to my place and to be honest, I didn't expect it to be that easy since I hadn't really planned anything like that. I forgot about the drug dealer because now I had to worry about what I was going to say to Evelyn tomorrow because I was definitely not going to spend the night with her.

"Patrick..." Nicole nestled into my side as we sat in the cab. "Did I tell you I know...F-French?"

I crossed my arms and shook my head in dismay. "No, you didn't," I said, looking down at her red, messy hair. "But it's nothing special...you're from Canada and French is your second official language."

Nicole let out a cartoonish giggle that made me cringe. "Oh...you know it? Damn, you're such a smart man...Mr. Bateman...so fucking smart...most guys I've slept with....didn't know that..." she giggled again and tried to pinch my nose, but I shooed her away. "Can you believe that?"

At a certain point, I was even starting to regret bringing her along, but I hoped I'd be able to shut her mouth with something...sharp and maybe deadly. "It happens, Nicole. Like you said, there were so many bad people in this town. Fortunately, you're lucky to have met someone like me."

The girl hugged me at my words, I could feel her drunk breath next to my lips, but instead of turning away I let her kiss me and it felt better than I expected. Soon the cab pulled up to the American Gardens Building. The walk up to my apartment didn't take much time, I was already thinking about how I was going to dispose of her body after I was done with her. Nicole, completely unaware of my dark thoughts, walked around my apartment barefoot as she kicked off her shoes, complaining about how fucking uncomfortable they were.

"Oh, this place is so fucking...c-cool!" She managed to say, swaying from side to side while moving. "Jesus, is that a telescope? Why do you even need that?" Nicole giggled like a child seeing one for the first time, but who knew, maybe she really was seeing it for the first time. "Do you... spy on people with that... thing?"

"No, Nicole." I replied curtly, standing next to her with my hands hidden in the pockets of my tailored pants.

"Are you...an astronaut...from NASA?" She asked, then winced when she finally noticed my looming figure. "Are you... going to send me to the moon tonight, handsome?"

"I'll do more than that," I crooned, placing my hand on her waist and pulling her closer. "But I must say one thing you may not like..." a short pause, then a soft rumble left my throat. "I prefer that beautiful mouth of yours to be closed. Do you understand?"

I was expecting anything other than this bitch dropping to her knees and immediately working on unbuckling my belt. The way she was behaving was both amusing and enticing, but what I enjoyed most was that she was so naive and completely dumb.

"Look at you," I murmured before grabbing a handful of her ginger curls that were blocking her vision. "So inpatient, huh?"

By the time she managed to undo my pants, I was already so hard that my dick sprang out of the confines of my clothes and almost slapped her face, but it didn't bother her at all—I could only see an uncontrollable desire in those big green eyes that were now looking at me as if asking for my permission.

Shameless, pathetic whore.

With a practiced move, I grabbed the back of her head to pull her closer to my crotch, then pressed my engorged dick against her lips, sliding it along them and making her lick off my pre-cum. "Yeah," I croaked, biting my own lips. "I definitely like you more like this...open your mouth, bitch."

Nicole obeyed and the next thing I knew I was thrusting into her mouth, her warmth welcoming me and making me grunt as I bucked my hips into her face, pushing myself further until I heard her gag around my shaft.

"'C'mon, choke on my dick," I snarled, pulling on her hair with brutal force, her nose rubbing against my pubis and I snaked my hand down to rest on her throat, wanting to feel my cock slide along it. "I'm sure no one has ever face fucked you like that...am I right, honey?"

I used that ugly nickname Evelyn always gave me and pulled myself out of her mouth to hear her answer, but she just gulped desperately for air and grabbed my legs for any semblance of support.

"Oh-Christ...you're...s-so fucking big," she wept, trying to wipe the liquid mixture off her chin, but I wouldn't let her, pulling her head back. "Shit...you're really one of those guys...who likes it rough?"

With a devilish smile, I gave myself several quick strokes before answering. "Oh, darling. You can't even imagine how MUCH I like that kind of thing."

Panting, Nicole was not ready for me to invade her mouth again, but I didn't care, just as I ignored her little protest when I fucked her throat and felt the curve of my dick slide into her wet, tight channel. It was a bliss I had always sought, that fleeting moment of raw control over another human, once you tasted it you couldn't stop yourself.

Perfection.

As time passed, I came at least twice in her abused mouth, each time making sure she swallowed every drop, but then I got bored of fucking her face and left her sprawled out on my expensive living room floor, which I would definitely have to call the maid service to clean. Barely alive, Nicole literally vomited my sperm mixed with her blood, her plump lips swollen and bruised from my beatings—I couldn't stress her pathetic whimpering anymore, so I had to act—but she would last a while longer, I was sure of it.

As I rummaged through my stuff in the bedroom to get a condom, Nicole's pathetic whimpering was like music to my ears, but at some point I considered turning on some real music to muffle the girl's screams, although to my surprise she was not that loud. But just in case, I returned to the living room and stepped over Nicole, who was still lying on the floor, to get to my stereo and put on the latest Talking Heads album, True Stories.

"I didn't ask you what kind of music you like," I suddenly chuckled and moved closer to the sobbing girl to crouch down beside her. "But I doubt it would change anything."

After that, I stood up and decided to strip completely, every move I made calculated and mastered to perfection. One second, two seconds....ten seconds and I was almost naked, when the only thing left on me was my gold Rolex, I heard her weak, shaky voice:

"Whitney Houston," she murmured, barely audible. "I love Whitney Houston."

I stopped in my tracks. "Oh...really? What is your favorite song?"

My lips were curled in a smile that came dangerously close to something insane as I carefully placed all my clothes on one of my black chairs before picking up the girl and moving her to the window—away from my white couch that I didn't want to stain with her fucking blood. She didn't struggle, she didn't struggle at all as I positioned her against the window, pressing her bruised face against the cold glass.

"Take Good Care of My Heart," the redhead added as I began to poke at her soaked pussy, which was not shaved like most of the girls I used to have, and to be honest, I really liked it. "I...I really love the whole album."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled into her ear, fixing her in place as the tip of my cock plunged into her, causing her legs to shake. "This is such a good album..."

With that I bottomed her out completely, my balls slapping against her ass, red from my spanking, I thought I could see the outline of my hand. Her little cunt felt no worse than her mouth, but it was not as tight...after being with you, nothing seemed tight enough to me.

Fuck it!

Cursing under my breath, I sped up to pound into her as hard as I could. Thank God the glass didn't break, but I changed our position anyway. Now Nicole was bent over my black leather chair, her ass wiggling every time I thrust into her and I couldn't stop myself from spanking her, I wanted her to fucking scream and cry out in pain but all I could get from her was nothing that could signal that she was in pain. On the contrary, this girl seemed to enjoy it so much, as her hips moved in rhythm with mine, she bucked in my direction to meet my movements.

"Shit, you fuck like a whore," I blurted out, grabbing her hair in a self-made ponytail. "Is that why you came to America? To be a fucktoy for men like me?"

"Mmm...f-fuck me...please...fuck me!" Nicole didn't seem to hear me, I had to squeeze her throat to shut her up. "Ye-yes...fucking...c-choke me...please!"

Stupid bitch.

In one swift motion, I pulled out only to slam into her unprepared asshole, making her scream in pain and fuck, she sounded amazing. Quickly wiping the sweat from my forehead, I pushed her down on my cock, noticing the crimson drops of her blood on my dick, which only spurred me to move faster and more ferociously. This bitch didn't see it coming, but she was still pretty obedient, which started to seem pretty weird to me, because usually by this time women start to panic, fight and try to escape, but this fucking hoe didn't even say a word about the way I was treating her.

And that started to disappoint me.

When I thought I was not going to climax, I closed my eyes and let my imagination take control of my brain. Huffing, I rammed into Nicole harder, fantasizing about you—how we could go 69, your fingers buried deep inside my asshole - I could fucking feel the sensation of them and it sent an electric shock right through my tensed sac.

"Oh, fuck," I gripped her waist with both hands, fucking her with pure abandon. "You...fucking...arrogant prick...I hate you! I hate you s-so fucking much!"

All my curses fell on deaf ears as Nicole only whimpered in response, gripping the back of the chair and the next second I found her cumming around my cock, her inner walls spasming around me, triggering my own orgasm.

When I was finally finished with her, I stood over her trembling body as she lay on the floor again. The girl was shaking and giggling, I thought she probably lost her mind already, so instead of using a knife or something, I decided to just strangle her with my bare hands. I wanted to see life slowly leave her body. I fucking craved it.

"Nicole," I shook her before getting on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of my muscular body. "Look at me."

Nicole's bloodshot eyes couldn't focus on mine for some time, she was stunned, dazed, ruined and intoxicated, I had to slap her face several times before she finally locked her hazy gaze with mine. The sweet anticipation of the kill enveloped my mind, my cock grew hard again as I placed both hands around her fragile neck, I began to squeeze it, lightly at first but then more and more forcefully.

"You made a big mistake coming to America, Nicole." I let out a taunt, not really expecting her to hear it or respond to it.

Everything was going according to plan when she suddenly smiled and covered my hands, not to take them off, but to stroke them with a wicked... attraction?

"Please...kill me already...I beg you..." She couldn't stop herself from crying and laughing.

This was a psychotic episode I had experienced so many times, but I never expected to see it with my own eyes. I froze in shock, losing my grip, and as I did, Nicole pulled my hands back to her throat, shaking me as if to wake me up.

"No, no, no, no! Please...don't stop...please...I want to die! Patrick, please...set me free!" Nicole's voice cracked and I could finally see the sheer desperation in her green eyes, but this kind of desperation was different.

This wasn't the kind of despair I'd seen before...this was something completely different. It was kind of a turn-off for me. The whole evening was fucking ruined, I couldn't believe it. Shaking my head, I stood up and stepped away from her as if from a fire.

"Patrick...please!"

"Shut up!" I yelled, looking down at my own hands—they were shaking so badly. "Shut the fuck up!"

In a panic, I rushed to the bathroom to wash my hands for who knows what reason, then grabbed my robe and put it on. I couldn't really explain what was happening to me, but when I got back to the living room, I picked up Nicole's clothes and threw them at her.

"Get dressed," I ordered, and then I went into the bedroom to unlock my safe and take out several bundles of money. What was I doing? Panting, I paused in the doorway to watch her get dressed, then walked over to her and handed her the money. "I want you to take this, go to a hospital and get back to Canada. Do you hear me, Nicole?"

The redhead was silent, just looking at me with her pleading eyes. "But I don't want to go..."

"You have to." I emphasized the words by lowering my voice. "Just do what I say and everything should be... okay."

"But I don't want it to be okay." Nicole tried to touch me, but I pulled away.

"Just go," I repeated my previous words, this time in a more serious voice. "And never come back."

I spent the rest of the night sitting in the shower, literally sitting on the floor, crying. A lot. My eyes were so red and puffy that I didn't know which ice mask would help me look normal tomorrow. The hatred of myself that rose from my chest to my cheeks and made me nauseous—I hated myself so much that I finally admitted that I had changed—you had changed me and there was no going back. The man I was before died, now I was just an empty being, or maybe a new man had been born in my shallow soul?

When I finally managed to drag my ass out of the bathroom, the phone rang and I was sure it was Evelyn trying to fuck my brain for not coming back to her apartment and to be fair, I wasn't ready for anything like that at that moment, but considering how much of a pain in the ass she was, I didn't want any more consequences if I didn't pick up the fucking call.

As I walked into the bedroom, I took the phone from my nightstand and finally answered the call. "Yes?"

"Patrick! Jesus, I thought you weren't going to answer the call!" It was you, damn it, it was you.

My teeth almost creaked with anger and disbelief. "How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off?! Are you stalking me or what? How the fuck did you know I was in my apartment?"

"I... I didn't know... I just decided to try my luck and here we are," you replied, your voice was different than it sounded this morning. "Listen Patrick, I'm in New York right now...maybe we can see each other?"

"See each other?" Those words made me sick. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I know that...things are pretty tense between us, but...maybe we can at least talk about it?"

"No, we can't," I clutched the phone as tightly as I could. "I don't want to see you and I don't want to hear you. Do you understand? If you ever call me again, I'll fucking find you and KILL YOU!"

With that, I dropped the phone on the floor and screamed so loudly that my throat began to hurt. Right now I was nothing but a living madness, the things that were happening in my mind were like an open chasm to hell—a place I'd be one day, I had no doubt about it.

The few days I spent in a dizzy state, I couldn't really remember what I was doing, but the only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Also, I didn't kill anyone for lack of thrill, there was no more adrenaline or excitement—you changed me and now spilling some blood couldn't help me to relieve myself anymore. I felt like I was being shattered into pieces, decomposed into something primitive, for the first time I saw myself as being even more inhuman than I really was.

Inhuman.

What a perfect word to describe everything about me, but I still couldn't understand where I belonged? If not here, could there be a place for a creature like me?

This question was swirling around in my head like a brain worm; that damn rainy evening when I decided to stalk my dear wife. After my rather long absence, Evelyn was about to go to the police, but then I showed up at the door of her apartment at night, high as hell, but she didn't seem surprised at all. I expected her to be mad and angry, but instead she treated me really nice, I could hear her crying and her desperate touch when she hugged me, weeping and sobbing something about being so scared and worried about me and although I didn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth, something stirred inside of me.

The raindrops were falling on my umbrella like Morse code, hitting the surface with such a precise rhythm that I really thought maybe something or someone was trying to send me a sign. The level of absurdity was over the top, and if I were in a different state mentally and physically, I'd be laughing my ass off at this shit, but today I couldn't do anything funny. I couldn't smile, I couldn't sneer, I was like a ghost, a shadow of the person I was before I met you. So here I was, following Evelyn down the street after the taxi ride until I saw her stop at some hotel—a luxury hotel in Upper Manhattan to be exact— and then, after some time, when I thought nothing interesting would happen, a sleek black Cadillac stopped by the street and I saw Timothy Bryce get out of the car—he was holding a black umbrella just like me. Evelyn was so excited to see him that she didn't even wait for them to go inside the hotel, she kissed him now and then without holding back her emotions. This scene made the stone fall off my shoulders; I was so damn happy that I was right and that this fake marriage was about to collapse, but I still couldn't understand why Evelyn married me at all. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if one day, when we finally had a serious talk about it, she would confess that she loved both of us—me and Bryce— and suggested that we all live together.

Say hello to an altered version of the American dream family.

The reality was always cruel, and I knew it too well.

A loud clap of thunder echoed through my apartment, waking me up in my living room, drenched in sweat. Breathing heavily, I turned around to register some pornography playing on my TV, my robe was undone, I was completely naked underneath, some remnants of my cum stuck to my stomach.

Shit, I just blacked out jerking off? This porn really sucks.

And this was the 5th or maybe 10th porn tape I had watched, and I only managed to cum once. Cursing and scowling, I fidgeted on my couch to find a remote control. I was disgusted with my current situation, but then I noticed two thin lines of white powder on my glass coffee table and a twisted $100 bill. Now everything started to fall into place.

Fuck, where did I even get this gram?

I rubbed my head, and instead of turning off the porn, I turned it up louder—two perfect bimbos making out, their oiled bodies wrapped around each other like two snakes—my hand instinctively sliding back to my hard cock, throbbing and soaked with my cum.

"Oh-fuck..." I murmured through clenched teeth as I pumped myself, watching the girls play with their large breasts. "Yeah...suck her tits...suck them like a fucking pacifier..."

The louder their moaning got, the more excited I got, and just when I thought I was about to climax again, I heard... a fucking phone ringing loudly—it hurt my hearing. Confused, I stopped doing anything, ignoring the fact that one slut was now riding on the face of another. There was only one thing I could think about right now— had I turned off my phone or not? Because I definitely remembered pulling the fucking cords out of it, but that thing kept ringing?

Slowly I got up on my stiff legs and walked to the kitchen island to grab the phone, the only light coming from my playing TV and I bumped into something pretty hard before the fucking receiver was in my hand.

"Patrick Bateman's apartment..." I almost whispered, pressing the receiver harder against my head.

"...Pat..." the echo of a familiar voice wailed from the other end of the line, but I still couldn't make out who it was. "...need... -h-help!"

"Who...am I talking to?"

"Patrick, please, help me," your voice sounded so clear now that it echoed inside my skull, drowning out all the sounds of the bad weather outside. "I'm...I'm at Paul Allen's...I need help...please...I think I'm gonna die..."

Was this some kind of prank?

I turned around and scanned my apartment as if someone was watching me right now. I felt insane and cornered, if I was really losing my mind the best option now would be to take more coke and trigger an overdose and then...

"Can you hear me? Please, come here, I'll... give you the address..." and then I heard loud interference and noise, so I had to pull the phone away for a second. "Patrick? Please...talk to me!"

"What...what happened?" I asked, still not believing what I was doing. "Are you in pain?"

"No...yes....Patrick...listen...you should write down the address..."

Without thinking, I grabbed the Vogue magazine lying next to the phone and a pencil, and the next second I was writing down the address where Paul Allen was supposed to live.

"Hold on! I'll be right there!" I suddenly said into the phone, but all I could hear was the agonizing beep. "Hey...I'll be there...do you hear me? I'LL BE THERE!"

Fuck!

I dropped the phone and took several deep breaths before I finally came to my senses, or so I thought. Then I rushed to the bathroom to clean up and put something on without worrying too much. So I grabbed the first suit out of my closet, fixed my hair and left my apartment to take a cab. All the way to Paul's, I was holding a crumpled page of Vogue that I had to rip out. At first I didn't even notice that I wasn't surprised when the cabbie just nodded and we drove off, so this address was real? It meant you really called me? And what about all the previous calls?

Perplexed, I leaned against the cool glass of the car window and watched the nighttime cityscape blur into something unrecognizable, almost falling asleep, but the driver turned on the radio with some cheesy pop songs that kept me awake, as I was too irritated to ignore how much I disliked such music. When the car stopped in front of a towering building like the one I lived in, I paid the driver twice what I was supposed to and got out of the cab. There were no pedestrians and for a moment I really thought that maybe I was still asleep and had to pinch myself to wake up in my living room?

As I entered the building I saw a table where the concierge should be sitting, but there was no one, so I casually opened the journal to find the number of Allen's apartment—I felt a creeping shock when I actually found his name in the journal.

Okay… this feels…too real.

Feeling a strange thrill of the rush, I closed the journal and sauntered quickly across the large lobby to the elevators. Paul's apartment was on the 15th floor, so when the door opened on the floor I needed, I stepped out of the elevator with a heavy weight in my chest. Every step I took resonated with the fast beating of my heart, and when I reached my destination, I didn't know what to do - whether to ring the bell or knock or…

Shaking myself off, I first rang the doorbell—nothing. Then I knocked several times, then again, still no answer. Finally, I put my ear to the door to listen, but I couldn't hear a single sound. Anger overcame me, so I kicked the door and turned to leave. How stupid was I? Maybe mixing my pills and coke wasn't the best idea, but this...

When I got back to the lobby, an old man, who must have been a missing concierge, greeted me with a fake polite smile. "Greetings, sir. How can I help you?"

Annoyed as hell, I stopped next to his small table, adjusted my leather gloves, and pointed to his journal. "I was looking for Paul Allen's apartment, he's my friend and I wanted to see him, but it seems...he's out tonight."

"Oh, Mr. Allen left on a business trip this morning." The concierge said casually, but then he noticed how pale I'd become. "Sir, is something wrong?"

"Did you say he left this morning?" I asked again, feeling a few beads of sweat on my tense forehead.

"Yes, sir," the old man opened the journal and began to leaf through it. "I can even tell you the exact time he left..."

"No need. Thank you." Was all I said before I turned on my heels and headed for the exit.

Outside I noticed that the taxi that had brought me here was still standing by the side of the road. It was strange but I didn't even think about it. I got in and asked the driver to take me back to my place, but first I asked him to give me a moment to sit and think. With shaking hands I picked up the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it, I traced my handwriting before throwing it out the window, my temples pounding so hard I thought my head would explode. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, not noticing that the concierge I was talking to literally ran out of the building, looking around, seeking someone.

"Let's go." I ordered the cab driver with my eyes still closed. "And can you please turn off the music...my head is killing me."

The taxi drove off and I didn't see or hear the old man following the car. "Sir, wait! I made a mistake about Mr. Allen-"

Today, after I refused to go shopping with Evelyn and help her choose a fucking curtain for her living room, she finally told me that she never loved me, that she wanted a divorce and nothing else from me. The relief I felt was comparable to a good orgasm, to say the least, Evelyn was shocked at my reaction—did she really expect me to beg for forgiveness? But the single mention of Bryce made everything come to its place, I wasn't angry, no, I just couldn't solve this fucking puzzle, what was all this for? If she really liked Bryce, why couldn't she just tell me and go for him? How many times had I told her that? A hundred? A thousand? Millions? Luckily, I wasn't inclined to leave my stuff in her apartment, so I finished my busing with 'moving out' pretty quickly and smoothly, because something glorious and important was waiting for me. The last moment of my drama.

I imagine that maybe someday there will be a show on Broadway based on my life—a great example of a life that no one should have lived—I smiled at the thought, as I always liked to romanticize things in the most clichéd and poetic way. After all, Bryce was right, I was mental, and no matter how hard I tried to run away from the dark version of myself, it would catch up with me one day. And that day seemed to have finally come.

As I walked down Wall Street, wearing my favorite headphones and listening to Huey Lewis and the News, I stumbled by the phone booth—a random idea plagued my mind before I could really think about it. Opening my briefcase, I found my notebook, and soon I was dialing your office number, hoping you wouldn't answer. But my hopes were never to be fulfilled.

To my surprise, I heard a male voice coming from the phone and all the words stuck in my throat like a lump. "Uh...hi...can I talk to..."

"Sorry sir, I can't hear you properly...it might be the bad connection," the voice replied and it made me really nervous. "I'm sorry, but if you want to talk to my boss, they are out of the office right now."

Out of the office…shit.

"Who am I talking to?" I asked, almost fainting.

"Vinc..." an unpleasant static noise came over my brain and I held my eyes closed for a second from the stabbing pain in my temples. "My name is Vincent...I'm .... assistant."

"Listen, Vincent..." I started to speak, not even knowing that he could hear my words. "I want you to tell your boss that...Patrick Bateman called and...this would be my LAST call," I laughed hysterically, leaning against the phone booth door. "I'm going to, uh... disappear..."

A short pause seemed like an eternity.

"You mean you are leaving New York City, sir?" Vincent's question surprised me.

My lips twitched in a wicked smile. "No...I mean...yes..."

"Are you going somewhere in particular, Mr. Bateman?" The man asked me and I stopped breathing for a second.

"I'm going...to a place where no one will ever...find me..."

And with that I hung up the phone. There was already a line of people by the phone booth, and as I walked away, they looked at me with the most disdainful look I could ever dream of mastering. Unfortunately, I wouldn't need it anymore.

Soon the white walls of my apartment would be the only witness to my last confession. My apartment smelled so fresh and good, the maid had just finished cleaning, and I was glad that if the police found my body, they would see that wealth and money were not a panacea for a happy life, although I had believed in it fervently for almost all these years. With deliberate steps, I walked into my bathroom, grabbed a small bottle of medicine prescribed by my psychiatrist, and popped a handful of pills at once. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror and somehow realized that the mask I had worn for most of my adult life was about to slip. Right now, at this very moment, I was about to die. An abnormal dizziness washed over me, I could barely stand on my feet when I suddenly saw your silhouette behind me in the mirror. I gulped and turned around to see nothing but the empty doorway, my hands shaking so badly that I failed to put the bottle back in its place, dropping it on the floor and scattering pills all over the bathroom.

Holy shit.

A strong gag reflex suddenly took over me and I managed to get to the toilet faster than I could throw up—I threw up all the pills—Jesus Christ, I was so weak I couldn't even finish this... I was so pathetic. In the end, I finally accepted that as the darkness took me in its cold embrace.

Knock…knock…

What is this? Am I still alive?

I kept questioning myself because I didn't feel anything, no pain, no remorse, nothing. But if I were dead, I wouldn't hear that strange sound, would I? I opened my wet eyes and looked up at the white ceiling—I was still in my bathroom— lying on my back, covered in my own vomit, saliva and bile. My mouth smelled like a rotten rat and I knew what I was talking about. The annoying knocking kept coming from my front door, and although I didn't want to get up, I felt that if I didn't, this fucking knocking would never stop.

With careful, unhurried movements, I crawled to the sink and, leaning on the bathroom counter, managed to stand up and quickly brush my teeth, avoiding looking at my reflection because I was sure I looked like shit. After that, I took off my stained clothes and put on a new robe that I had bought myself for no reason a few days ago.

As I approached the front door, the knocking stopped and I thought it was just another hallucination, but I decided to open the door anyway and to my surprise I saw my concierge who looked very worried and even scared.

"Mr. Bateman, thank God you're all right!" The man blurted out, holding his concierge hat in his hands.

"Of course I'm okay," I replied nonchalantly. "What happened? Or did you just come to check on me?"

"Well," the concierge looked away before rubbing his gray mustache. "Someone was looking for you..."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I peered out into the long corridor. "Who was it? Did they give a name? Was it a policeman or something?"

"No, sir." The old man gave me an awkward smile that made me even more angry. "They were so desperate...they were literally storming around the lobby...constantly saying things about you not answering calls and not opening the door...I told them maybe you just left..."

The rest of what he said fell on deaf ears, because now I was absolutely sure who was looking for me. "What time is it now?"

"11 a.m., sir."

"Today is Friday, right?" I asked, my head spinning. "It should be Friday."

The concierge paused. "It's Sunday, sir."

Sunday?

A sharp pang of nausea crept into my stomach, nearly breaking me in half, but I managed to grab hold of the doorjamb for support. "Where is this person?"

"Mr. Bateman, I had to call the police because they were being...kind of aggressive," the concierge explained, stepping back a bit. "The cops arrived pretty quickly...they found out this person had drugs, sir."

I stagger to the side as if from the hard blow. "And what happened next...did they arrest them?"

"I...I guess so?"

I let out a tired sigh, rolling my eyes and trying to keep it together - this poor guy was not guilty, it was just an accident, but how did you get caught with drugs? It was so fucking illogical to me.

My voice was unnaturally soft as I tried my fucking best not to snap at the man across from me. "Did the cops really take them away? Did you see that with your own eyes?" The concierge just nodded, and I could tell by his nervousness that he felt it was his fault at some level. "All right, thank you for your information, remind me to tip you next month." And with that, I closed the front door, leaving the man in a completely bewildered state.

Shit...this whole situation seemed like a fucking joke, but I had to think fast—I needed a plan how to solve this bullshit and maybe I could get some answers if I could help you. I took a moment to collect myself and told myself that one way or another I had to go there...to rescue you.

I'll do it even if I have to burn down this police station.

In record time, my impeccable appearance was ready, and now I confidently walked down the long, dimly lit corridor of the police station that was closest to where I lived—I hoped you were in that station, but if not, I would visit all of them until I found you.

Finally, I reached the reception area, where a pretty policewoman greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for..." I opened my briefcase and showed her my notebook with your full name written in it. "Are they here, in this department? I believe they were arrested today."

The officer smiled at me before she turned around and started to rummage through some papers, folds, notes... With each passing moment I was getting more and more impatient, but I had to play it cool.

"I think I found the person you were looking for," the woman said, placing several documents on the reception desk, implying that I should take a look at them. "They were delivered here an hour ago."

"Can I see them?" I asked, putting on my casual, seductive smile.

“And what is your relationship to the suspect?”

Damn, not this fucking question.

I was a little stunned at first, but then I quickly tugged at my red tie and tilted my head in a condescending way. "I'm their lawyer, and I need to see them as soon as possible."

I noticed that her expression suddenly changed, her eyes gliding over my massive form—she was obviously trying to access my appearance and compare it to the look of a successful lawyer living in New York City—when I gave her an intense look and then winked, she visibly blushed.

After a small cough, she took the documents and only then dared to look at me again. "The suspect is now in interrogation room number one. Don't get lost."

"Thanks." I grinned broadly and, after closing my briefcase, left the reception.

It didn't take me long to find the interrogation room I needed. As I stopped right next to the door, I checked myself in the reflection of the nearby window—I looked perfect, not as perfect as I used to be, but not too horrible either.

A light knock on the door before I opened it. "Good afternoon, sorry for the long wait. How is my client? I hope you haven't done anything inappropriate in my absence?"

The moment our eyes met, I could see a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something beyond human understanding.

"And who the hell is that?" One of the officers—a rather fat guy with a messy beard—asked his partner, then looked at you. "You said you were from Chicago and your lawyer had to catch a flight here."

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Why are you telling me my own words?" You crossed your arms and gave me a scorching gaze, I seized the moment of your confusion to nestle into the empty chair next to you. "Probably...my lawyer has handed this case over to his colleague in New York, so he doesn't have to come here."

Both policemen looked at us as if we were idiots—which we definitely were—but I hoped this affair would work out.

"But you asked to be allowed to make a phone call... the whole damn time," another policeman replied, pointing his finger at you and then at me. "I'm going to send you both to jail if you don't tell me what-"

"Jesus Christ, I told you several times...I was at a party...I took someone's coat by mistake and there was...this fucking bag of cocaine, but it's not mine! You can check the fingerprints and you won't find mine on this fucking bag! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?"

"My client is right. Before we get the results of the fingerprint analysis, the presumption of innocence should not be forgotten." I started in the most serious tone I could manage. "Remember that."

Both officers started arguing with each other almost immediately, using many different insults that I would definitely have to remember so that I could present them to Tim— he would love to hear them. I was about to say something clever when the door suddenly opened and a woman with dark hair stepped into the room.

"What the hell is going on?" The woman asked her colleagues, looking disappointed and quite angry. "Everyone can hear you outside."

"Oh, Miss Moore," one of the officers murmured like a guilty child. "Well, we..."

"Detective Moore to you, Rogers," she replied, her posture radiating confidence. You and I both stared at her for a while, I noticed her tanned skin and thick curly hair, she was definitely Hispanic, the accent was also quite noticeable. "Can I confide in you at least once?" Officer Rogers looked at his partner, neither of them said a word, and that made the detective even more annoyed. "We'll talk about it later, now go."

The cops didn't dare protest, and soon they left. Now it was just you, me and Detective Moore in the interrogation room. The tension was palpable in the air, my hands were sweaty and shaking, I had to brush them off my open coat, but before I could, you caught one of them and squeezed it barely sensibly—I gasped, almost choking on my saliva.

After a brief examination of the documents, the woman across from us raised her brown eyes and smiled, not too friendly, but not too menacing either. "So, my name is Andrea Moore," she turned to look at you, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "I already know your name," her piercing gaze finally stopped on me. "May I have your documents, sir?"

Swallowing hard, I unlocked my briefcase to hand her my ID. "Yeah, sure."

"Mr. Bateman...have we met before?"

"No...I don't think so."

Andrea hummed to herself. "Well, I hope you brought your law license with you?"

Your grip on my palm tightened, I almost let out a hysterical squeal. "I... I must have left it in my office."

"Listen," you suddenly spoke up, gesticulating as if you were at a school presentation. "I need to call my assistant, Vincent Eisenhower...he will help sort things out-"

"Wait a minute...did you say Vincent Eisenhower?" Andrea suddenly stopped you, obviously surprised.

"Uh, yeah, he's my assistant at the company I work-"

"...in Chicago?"

"Yes..." you replied in confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"

The detective didn't answer, and it made me nervous as hell, but you holding my hand in a gentle manner was strangely comforting, even though I despised such displays of affection.

Looking puzzled, Andrea finally took the pen and a clean piece of paper. "Can you give me the number...I'll call Mr. Eisenhower and ask him for...a real lawyer. Mr. Bateman, I hope you understand the consequences of your actions-"

"Leave him alone, it's not his fault," you cut Andrea off before I could say anything in my defense. "He didn't know what he was doing coming here...please...he hasn't done anything bad...he's just going through a hard time in his life and..."

"Enough," the detective raised her hand in a halting gesture. "I hope I can reach out to Mr. Eisenhower....You two better pray for that."

Andrea left as abruptly as she had come. We were finally alone. Both confused, frightened, and lost.

"Why did you even come here?" You asked, not looking at me, but not parting our hands. "How stupid of you to come here and act like you were my lawyer."

"I HAD NO CHOICE!" I almost screamed, turning in my seat to cut the mere distance between us. "Not after you terrorized me with those damn phone calls..."

As I said that, time stood still for us and I could see the inner conflict in your deep, mesmerizing eyes—you were broken and lost just like me—I looked down at our intertwined hands, waiting for your answer.

"What calls, Patrick? What are you talking about?"

"You know WHAT I'm talking about...don't try to fuck with my brain," I husked, inches from your lips. "You think this is funny, huh?"

"And you think it's funny to call my office and tell my assistant about your suicidal intentions?" Your warm breath wafted pleasantly around my face as you moved closer. "You think it's funny to appear and disappear in my life like I'm a toy you can play with whenever you feel bored?"

At first I didn't answer. Instead, I just kept eye contact with you, then I lowered my eyes to our hands again—my palm was bigger than yours, this little detail always made my heart flutter. Did I ever think that such a small thing would stir such strong emotions in me? Probably not.

Definitely not.

"By the way, did you manage to find out anything about that machine you told me about?" I questioned abruptly, putting my arm around your shoulders.

You frowned and chuckled in disbelief. Well, at least the tension was relieved.

"What machine?" You fidgeted in your seat as I pulled you closer. "Hey, don't change the subject..."

"A memory reboot machine," I crooned, leaning forward so our noses rubbed against each other. "If you're here... that means you probably didn't find it."

The urge to indulge in this moment, to follow the passionate momentum and just kiss these lips I'd been thinking about all along, was unbearable, but I didn't want to be the first to fall apart and drop my defenses.

"Maybe I never needed this machine," you replied, pressing your forehead against mine for a brief moment. "Because I never wanted to forget...you?"

Was it a question or a statement—we never knew as we both moved towards each other, my burning lips pressed against your soft ones as we shared the most desirable kiss I could ever imagine. Gasping into my mouth, you let go of my hand only to wrap both of them around my neck as you responded with no less favor than mine. It was so hot, so desperate, so tragic. And it was all mine— your pain, your anger, your hatred.

Because you were my salvation.

With precise deftness, I carefully tilted your head back a little to deepen the kiss, my arms eagerly but not persistently roving around your back, knowing every little detail of your body, every dent and bump. As much as I wanted to tell you how fucking perfect you were for me, I didn't want this kiss to end, but as if you could read my mind, you suddenly pulled me away a little too abruptly and roughly.

"God, I hate you..." you wept, covering your face so I couldn't see your tears. "I really... I really thought you were going to do something bad... I was afraid it was too late..."

I was at a loss, I didn't know how to react or what to say—everything about you confused me, made my brain overload with different thoughts about what you said and why—now was no exception.

"But I'm here now...in one piece," I decided not to touch you, my hand resting on the back of your chair, ready to hug you at any moment if it was needed. "You should understand that...if I really wanted to do this, no one would be able to stop me..." I whisper above your ear and place my hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on the table. "Even you."

I knew that this confession would mean nothing, just like all my previous ones, but as soon as I said it, you raised your tear-stained eyes and whimpered. "Don't say that...don't fucking say that! You can be a total asshole, but that doesn't mean you deserve to die..."

"Darling," I gently brushed your stray locks from your face, trying to distract you and keep you from saying words that would only make things worse. "You know so little about me...but I don't want you to say something you'll regret..."

"I've already said too many things that I now regret," you replied, turning away from me. "Have you ever thought about your family and how they would react if something bad happened to you? Have you thought about Evelyn?"

My eyebrows knitted together, the words you said pierced my heart like sharp daggers, but I didn't want you to stop, because you were right, I was always selfish, but you knew so little about my family, who would surely be sad about the loss, but they would recover pretty quickly, since they still had Sean. And Evelyn? I would laugh if things were not so sad.

Trembling and sobbing, you still sat with your back to my face. "I'm not going to ask you for anything except to promise me that you'll never even think about...hurting yourself."

Oh, dear.

With a soft clink of my chair, I stood up and placed both of my hands on your trembling shoulders. "I promise... if you stay with me, I'll never look back... on my previous life." I felt your body tense under my touch. "We can't reboot the memory, but we can...reboot our lives?"

This was it—the moment I had fantasized about so many times, considering different outcomes, scenarios—I was waiting for your answer when the door creaked and Detective Moore appeared in my vision. She was much more cheerful than before, which worried me a bit.

"So," she took a seat, opened a folder with documents and wrote something on it. "I spoke to Vince, and luckily for you, he has already contacted your lawyer-"

"Vince?" You asked in shock, but at least you stopped crying.

Andrea stuttered and cleared her throat. "I mean..." she paused and twirled the pen in her hand. "It happened that Vincent and I used to know each other..."

What?

We were both speechless, how the hell could such a coincidence have happened?

"Well... I really didn't see it coming..." You murmured, brushing the remnants of tears from your face.

"Neither did I," the detective chuckled curtly before resuming her work on some papers. "Listen, we should wait for the results of the fingerprint analysis, and while we wait, you are forbidden to leave the city. Please put your sign here."

"What is this?"

"Your ticket to freedom," she explained. "A street bail."

I saw you hesitate, so I gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and you looked at me, I simply nodded, and you placed the sign.

"And how long have you known Vincent?" You asked after you handed the document back to Andrea. "Just asking."

"Since childhood, I think."

"Oh... that's... a lot."

"Vince has always been known for being a good boy..." the woman paused, coughing awkwardly. "Uh, you can talk to him about... that if you're interested." Andrea closed the folder and shifted her gaze to me. "And you, I highly recommend that you never do anything like this again."

"So you're not going to put me in a cell?" I replied in a slightly teasing manner.

"No...not this time. But the officer who allowed you to come here will be severely punished, maybe even fired," Andrea explained, getting up from her chair. "It's her first day at the police station, but she let a man go through without even checking his papers. Such violations are very serious."

And although I didn't feel sad for this woman I would probably never see again, I looked at you and your big doe eyes. "Maybe there's a way not to fire her? I assured her that I was a lawyer and...I could pay a fine if I had to."

Detective Moore said nothing, she just grinned and beckoned us to follow her.

An hour later we finally left the police station. For some time we walked in complete silence, the surrounding commotion drawing out my shallow breathing, my mind overclocked with the search for topics to talk about after all the shit that had happened.

"So... where did you stay?" I asked casually, looking at you from above, your eyelashes shimmering in the sunlight. "In the Plaza?"

"No," you replied almost immediately. "Not the Plaza this time...it was all booked up."

"You were really in New York... for the whole time?"

"Depends on what time you mean exactly," your slight smile made me almost stumble, but I pretended to see someone familiar. "Maybe I haven't left New York at all?"

No, that can't be.

"You know, since you can't leave the city... maybe we should spend some time together and... you didn't answer my question."

My offer made you stall, and I followed suit. Passers-by walked past us, not paying attention even though we were standing in the middle of the street.

"Was it really a question?"

"And what do you think it was?"

"A plea?" You smiled and stepped closer to me until there was no space between us. "If you weren't so stubborn...everything could be so much easier."

"And YOU tell me that?" I let myself pull you closer to me. "I have an idea...fuck the place where you stopped! We should go to Newport."

"Newport? Would it count that I left New York?" you asked me a little shyly. "Do you have a house there or...?"

"My family has a house there and since they are out of town we can use it to kill time...have you ever been to Newport?" My hands rested possessively on your waist and before I knew it, I added. "Me and Evelyn are getting divorced..."

"No, I haven't," you replied, finally resting your hands on my shoulders. "But I really want to...since I've heard a lot of good things about this place..." then you suddenly froze. "What... What did you say? Are you kidding me? God, I can't believe this...I..."

You continued to bubble something that made me smile in amusement and I couldn't help but hold you tightly in my arms— the place you always belonged to, though I understood it too late. The fresh breeze of change swirled around us, playing with our hair and clothes. Yesterday I didn't know if I would make it to tomorrow, but today I was sure that there would be so many tomorrows because I wasn't alone anymore.

With you, for you, in your name—I was still alive and finally free.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

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sylusmistress · 1 month ago

Text

Run Kitten... Run

Chapter 1: King of the Wanderers

Five days, three hours, forty-five minutes and twenty seconds. That’s how long you’ve been searching through the dense woods outside the N109 Zone looking for the man that has been dubbed as King of the Wanderers. Originally you didn’t have plans to take on this mission, especially since you are still dealing with the grief of losing your childhood friend Caleb and your Grandma Josephine, but Tara insisted that getting out and working in the field would do wonders for your mental state instead of sulking around the office and letting your mind drift off to a dark place. Now after being out in these woods with little to no rations left, a broken tent, and the burning desire to take a five-hour long bath, you have made a mental note to chew Tara out when you return home and to never take her advice ever again.

“This is fine… this is fine… When I return to Linkon City I’ll take an extravagant bubble bath and then I’ll cook myself a feast meant for a king and eat it all by myself.” In a desperate attempt to keep your sanity from slipping you mumble softly to yourself to keep your mind distracted from how alone you feel out in these woods. The comforting autumn sun is beginning to set and with your tent being on its last leg (literally) you are dreading having to spend another sleepless night outside under the moon and stars. Although you thrive in social settings, you’ve never been much of a social butterfly and under different circumstances you would relish in the idea of being alone with your thoughts and no one to distract you. But after five days of silence besides the occasional monologues you speak out loud to yourself or the shrieking whines of low-level wanderers you’ve slayed, you are in need of communicating with someone or any living creature besides yourself.

Turning your head to the side you notice the fluttering of black crow wings as they soar through the charming blue sky and land from tree branch to tree branch until it finds a comfortable sitting position. Considering that the file you were given for this mission explicitly stated that this wooden area was desolate besides the presence of wanderers you are somewhat confused about the presence of a crow. But you aren’t someone that is willing to disregard a blessing as you scour the woodland ground in search for any fallen grains or berries you can offer to the nearby bird.

With a handful of unidentifiable berries that could possibly be poisonous if consumed by a human you carefully walk up to the birch tree that looks as if it’s been growing in the same spot for hundreds of years and hold your cupped hands up in the air like an offering to an ancient god. “Psst… Psst… hey there birdie. Would you like a snack? I’m not sure if it’s very tasty but my name is Y/N, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

After your cheerful greeting an uncomfortable silence befalls between you and the black crow that stays silent while eyeing the pitiful offering in your hands before letting out a disgruntled cawk and flying to another tree branch to sit upon. Squinting your eyes at the bird that blatantly disregarded your offering, your irritation grows as you toss the mystery berries down onto the woodland ground and wipe your hands on your pants before turning on your heels to begin your journey once more. “I swear when I get back, I’ll give Tara a piece of my mind… ‘Go on the mission,’ she says… ‘Fresh air will help get you out of this mental funk,’… blah, blah, blah. I feel worse now than when I was at home in my bed.” Another hour of you grumbling to yourself and trekking through the woods passes before you feel the Aether Core in your heart begin to rapidly thump and buzz in your chest. The sensation is unbearable and feels dangerously close to a heart attack as you let out a loud shriek and almost fall into the dry patched woodland ground before steading yourself against a nearby oak tree.

“W-W-What is happening?” Fear and panic begin settling in as you try to do your best not freak out, but your mind is swirling with different possibilities as to what could be wrong. Quickly you begin undoing the top four buttons of your shirt to expose your sternum as your eyes try to locate what could be causing you immense distress.

“A-Am I wounded?” Narrowing your eyes with circumspectly precaution at your flesh, you ensure you haven’t somehow been struck by an invisible wanderer and when you decide you aren’t dealing with any external damage you try to focus on what you are feeling internally and attempt to give yourself a self-diagnosis. “I wish Zayne was here. He would know how to fix this... whatever it is…” You whine breathlessly to yourself before taking three big deep breaths and settle your beating heart enough to focus on other breathing techniques Zayne previously taught you before departing for your mission.

One. Inhale. Two. Exhale. Three. Inhale. Four. Exhale. Repeatedly you mentally repeat the simple mantra to yourself until you feel your heartbeat return to its normal pace. Peeling your eyes back open, you gently run the tips of your fingers over your exposed flesh and slightly wince when you press down on where your Aether Core resides. It has been years since you’ve experienced such a sharp and distressing ache around your heart, and you begin to theorize that exerting yourself during this mission in combination with losing your loved ones the week before might have been too much for your heart to handle right now.

Regardless of what you may theorize, your inability to back down from a challenge is one of your biggest strengths as well as your biggest weakness and so far, your track record as a rookie Hunter has been spotless with no failed missions. Ignoring the logical voice screaming at you in the back of your mind to turn back around and schedule an appointment to visit Dr. Zayne, you decide to take one more deep breath before rebuttoning up your shirt and carrying on through the dense woods.

Unlike the previous night’s trudging through the woods, it seems that luck is finally on your side as you come across a clearing where the trees aren’t as dense, and the shining moon is shining down enough light to let you see your surroundings clearly without a fire. Using your hunter watch to scan for any possible metaflux levels, you determine that even though this area is out in the open it is a relatively safe location before finding a tree stump and plopping down next to it with an fatigued sigh.

Utilizing this moment of peace, you continue using your hunter watch and reread the file that was assigned to you for this assignment. It was previously estimated that it would take around four days to complete the journey and find the King of the Wanderers, but worry is starting to set in. You’ve been out in these woods for five days and the only wanderers you have encountered so far have all been low level cases that barely pose a threat to anyone. Additionally, it states that this land is void of any life besides wanderers and your mind drifts back to the presence of that rude black crow you met earlier. “Something about this whole mission seems off… but I can’t pinpoint what it is…” While replaying the events leading up until now a thought crosses your mind that maybe Jenna made a mistake but you quickly clear that idea from your mind. As leader of the Alpha Team, it is unlikely that someone as competent as Jenna would have made a critical error that could result in you possibly dying a tragic death out in these woods. Right?

Letting out a disgruntled sigh you lean your head back against the tree stump and close your eyes momentarily as you begin thinking deeper about the mission you are currently on. At the moment you are hungry, physically and mentally exhausted, have little to no food rations left, you aren’t sure if you experienced a heart attack earlier and need to meet with Dr. Zayne as soon as possible, your tent is of no use, and above all else you are unable to sleep the night away because every time you drift off to sleep you have flashbacks to the explosion that killed Caleb and Grandma Josephine.

You are a prideful woman, but the longer you allow yourself to weigh the pros and cons of the situation you have been placed in you are beginning to feel yourself give in to defeat just this once. Dragging your hands down your face you wipe away a lone tear that seemed to have escaped your right eye before looking down at your hunter watch and hovering your finger over the communication hub. With just a click of a button you can call for backup and be extracted from this mission in less than twenty minutes. “I tried… I really did try…” With just one… simple... click…

The momentarily feeling of weakness quickly vanishes when you press the button, and nothing happens. Wiping your eyes once more you sit up with your back straightened and your senses now on high alert as you start frantically pressing down to request for backup. The more you press the button the more your hunter watch seems to glitch until it eventually fades out to an unresponsive black screen. “Fuck!” Immediately you remove the watch from your wrist and check to see if the device has died from low battery percentage. Swallowing a nervous lump in your throat when you see that the battery and inner mechanisms of the watch are all working properly. There is technically nothing wrong with the device, but you feel your skin prickling with fear knowing that there must be something or someone nearby interfering with the connection.

Because of your intense hunter training you can momentarily get a grip on your fear and pull out one of your hunter firearms from its holster before standing to your feet and getting into a defensive position. Focusing all your senses on your Evol you attempt to seek out any enemy energy that may be lingering nearby but the moment you do this you feel your heart start rapidly beating once again. Wincing at the pain that building in your chest you decide to stop trying to use your Evol before you unintentionally cause irreparable damage to your heart.

From out of the corner of your eye you spot a looming shadowy figure dressed in a black leather jacket with red and white thorns decorating the material, a black sweater, a pair of black leather pants, boots, and gloves to finish the look. If you weren’t so busy mentally planning what your next move will be, you would have appreciated how put together this mystery man’s monochromatic outfit was. Because it is now close to midnight, the moon that sits high in the sky cascades down a spotlight to show you the man approaching has a build that is larger than life. His messy silver hair flies down over his forehead allowing you to only catch a glimpse of his bright red eyes. Living in Linkon City you’ve come across various types of people with features that could be classified as ‘abnormal’, but you have never met anyone with eyes as red as two twinkling rubies. While taking in his sharp facial features for a split second you swear that you can see his right eye glowing but when you blink it seems your imagination might be playing tricks on you because of how exhausted you are. “Well, well, well… What do we have here? A scared little kitten that seems to have lost her way?”

Tightening the grip on your weapon you hold it out in front of you and glare at the man before you with a vicious intent in your eyes. Despite your stature and appearance, you are a top ranked rookie hunter for a reason and based on the information given about this mission no one should be in these woods besides – “I am not lost and do not call me ��kitten’. My name is Y/N, now, who are you and what business do you have out here?”

The man before you simply stares at you with his piercing red eyes before quietly chuckling to himself and in the blink of an eye positions himself in front of you while directing your firearm to point directly at his chest. “It seems that you are scared like a kitten, have claws like a kitten, and dare I say you are as feisty as a kitten. Are you sure I shouldn’t call you kitten?”

All the fear you previously possessed is now replaced with the irritation you felt earlier as you do your best to keep a poker face and not show an ounce of vulnerability in the face of a possible enemy. There was no physical description on what the King of Wanderers would look like but there was a note in the file that stated once you meet him you would know in your heart who you are dealing with. When you initially read the file, you didn’t think that you would physically be able to feel in your heart how dangerous the man standing before you is. “You did not answer my questions, and I am not fond of repeating myself. I am a skilled hunter from Linkon City, and I will ask you once more, who are you and what business do you have all the way out here?”

With an amused smile plastered on his face the stranger standing before you tightly grasps your hand that’s holding onto your firearm and hovers his finger over the same trigger you have your index placed on. Again, your emotions are all over the place as your irritation now migrates to a bottomless pit of confusion. You aren’t sure what kind of man you are dealing with, especially since it seems that he is silently telling you that he feels that you holding a gun to his chest is not at all threatening or even worth acknowledging with words. “When Mephisto told me that you lacked manners I assumed he was exaggerating.” In one swift movement the gun that was held tightly in your hands is effortlessly disarmed and tossed carelessly to the ground as red and black energy tendrils appear out of nowhere and wrap around your wrist, leaving you immobilized and in a state of shock. “I’m sure whatever profile the Hunter Association has on me lists my name as ‘King of the Wanderers’, but I prefer to go by Sylus. As for my business out here, well… This is my domain, Kitten. And you are trespassing.”

The moment the words ‘my domain’ and ‘trespassing’ leaves from his lips to your ears you feel your mouth go dry and your head starts to feel light headed. Something about all this still isn’t adding up to you and you let out a soft groan when you feel the red and black tendrils tighten uncomfortably around your wrist. “Your domain?… L-Let me go!” Wiggling around to free yourself from the energy bondage you feel another batch of tendrils wrap around your neck and your ankles, forcing you to stay completely still. “I-I said l-l-let me go! Y-you are under arrest, and I need to bring you in for questioning –”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears as Sylus stares at you with an unreadable expression and tightens the hold on your body once more. Not enough to kill you but the tightness is enough to leave a bruise in the morning... if you make it until the morning. Closing the distance between the two of you the air becomes thick enough to cut through and you watch as his face momentarily contorts to one of displeasure before returning to his stoic expression. For the second time tonight, it appears that his right eye is glowing but the intensity of it this time around is a lot more obvious, and you are sure that you aren’t just seeing things because of your exhaustion or the current predicament you find yourself in.

The longer you are wrapped in his energy manipulation Evol and stare at his glowing right eye the more you begin to feel the Aether Core in your heart causing you agonizing pain in your chest. Compared to earlier, this pain in your torso is enough to bring tears to your eyes and you feel as if you just want to claw your heart out to rid your body of this insufferable pain.

With a curious expression Sylus tilts his head to the side and watches countless tears fall from your eyes. Because he has total control of his Evol he is one hundred percent sure he isn’t squeezing you tight enough to bring tears to your eyes and wonders why you are crying, but the moment you begin screaming loudly in pain a sudden surge of discomfort can be felt in his glowing right eye. “What the fu–” Blinking rapidly Sylus momentarily loses focus and almost drops your body down onto the woodland ground before refocusing his concentration and holding you within his energy tendrils again.

“It seems this little kitten is hiding a secret,” This time instead of holding your body tightly, Sylus ensures that his tendrils feel like a gentle caress against your skin. There is something familiar and comforting about being wrapped in his Evol energy, but you can’t place your finger on what exactly is so familiar about this. Nonetheless, you don’t have time to mentally shift through the varying theories in your mind as you start to feel yourself slip into a state of unconsciousness while your heart continuously beats as if it is going to burst out of your torso.

One. Inhale. Two. Exhale. Three. Fuck. FUCK! Cursing to yourself internally you attempt to use the methods from earlier to calm your heart back down but no matter how hard you try your heart insists on beating faster and faster. The pain at this point is too much to handle and you can no longer keep your body from drifting to a place of unconsciousness as your eyes grow heavy and your throat finally begins to feel the effects from all your blood-curdling screams.

Throughout your whole ordeal Sylus keeps his eyes on you until you are silent and breathing heavily while in a state of oblivion. Just like you, he feels there is a familiar energy about you that he is unable to pinpoint, and he wants to know the answer. He needs to know why the longer he stares at you and the longer he embraces you in his Evol you feel like… home?

While in a temporary coma, his eyes drift from your face and down your body until they land on your covered sternum He is tempted to reach out to touch the covered area when the sound of his two minions breaks him from his trance. Staring up at Luke and Kieran, Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a disgruntled breath already mentally preparing for whatever nonsense the duo is going to put him through.

“Sorry we are late boss! Mephisto led us down the wrong path!” Luke pauses his explanation for him and his twin’s tardiness as he looks down at your body that’s comfortably laying in a tangled web of Sylus’ black and red tendrils. “Ooooo! Is this the pretty lady that useless bird told you about?”

Ignoring Lukes inquiry, Sylus looks down at you once more before lowering you down onto the woodland ground and glaring at the bubbling duo with a stern expression. “Make yourselves useful for once and carry her back to the base.”

Behind his crow mask Luke squints his eyes and places his hands on his hips. “But Boss… aren’t you the one with super cool powers?”

After tonight’s events Sylus can feel his patience growing thinner and thinner by the second and the last thing he wants to deal with are his two minions that often need to be threatened from time to time to complete simple tasks. “If either of you value your lives you will do as I say and bring this kitten back to the base.” Without another word he cast one last look at your sleeping form and one more lethal glare at Luke and Kieran before disappearing into the darkness.

“Boss sure is in a grumpy mood tonight. Oh well, come along kitty.”

“Luke, she’s not an actual kitten. And be quiet before you wake her up.”

“But look at her and how cute she is while she sleeps. Just like a kitty cat… I want to pet her.”

“Luke!”

Luke giggles as he gently picks you up and places you over his shoulder like a delicate sack of potatoes before looking over at his frustrated twin. Even though they both wear masks that conceal their faces and emotions, Luke can tell that Kieran is rolling his eyes at him while Kieran can tell that Luke has a silly grin plastered on his face. “Okayyyyyyyyy. Back home we gooooooo.”

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benispunk · 10 months ago

Text

One special name

Irondad & Spiderson

There's never enough irondad and spiderson content, and i love and miss them so much. Here's my improvised work from last night. Sorry for my mistakes if there's any!! xx

"Pepper is going to be so mad"

"I'm sure she'll understand, Mr.Stark. Right?"

Peter fidgets with his fingers, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. They were stuck in an elevator. Peter had followed Tony around all day, per Tony's request who just wanted to spend time with him during his very boring-full of meetings-tons of work-day.

This afternoon meeting happened to be outside of the Tower, in a building Tony or FRIDAY had no control over and which’s elevator, as they had seen, wasn't reliable. What was funny about this day was that Pepper had taken their phones so that Tony wouldn't be distracted.

"Stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop acting like one." Pepper deadpanned earlier that day when Tony had refused to leave his penthouse.

He found the situation ironic, really. First, he doesn't want to go to work, then they take away his phone only to agree to Peter's presence who is almost 100% of the time the reason why Tony is always distracted, then they schedule meetings outside his workplace and life blocks him in an elevator. What a perfect a day.

"Why are you laughing?" Peter asked, clearly trying to ignore the signs of a panic attack. Tony seemed to realize that and forces Peter to sit down on the floor next to him.

"'Cause I didn't want to go to this meeting and even when I can't control it, life fulfills my biggest wishes". He watched as Peter huffed a laugh but didn’t seem to relax at all.

"Hey Pete, we're gonna be okay. And if there is a problem, need i remind you that you're Spider-Man and I believe to be Iron Man myself so..."

Peter chuckled this time, which made Tony smile in return.

"Right. It's just an elevator."

"Just an elevator. And it's pretty clean too, look at that." Tony pointed at the floor around them to distract Peter some more.

Suddenly, they felt the elevator move for an instant before it stopped again. The sound it made got Peter's ears to ring loudly. He immediately covered them with his hands and winced.

Tony instantly put his arms around Peter's shoulder to protect him. But the elevator didn't move again. They were definitely stuck now.

"It's okay, it stopped."

Peter slowly uncovered his ears and leaned against Tony's side.

"I'm sorry you have to be stuck with me" the teenager whispered, not quite enjoying the moment either.

Not only did he have to be stuck in an elevator, which is already one of the worst things that could happen to him, but Tony had to be there when he was totally freaking out over this stupid situation. Not forgetting the fact Tony was busy.

"Excuse me? That's probably going to be my favorite part of the day."

"I'm not joking, Mr.Stark. You shouldn’t be taking care of someone like me like that. And you're gonna be late."

Tony frowned.

"Okay, I think we're not on the same page right now." Peter felt Tony's perplexed stare on him. He decided to just brush it off and move away from Tony's embrace, already feeling embarrassed enough.

"Forget it, I'm sorry."

"You come back here, you're scared and I'm here for you, that's what it is." The man declared, scooting closer to Peter.

Tony waited for Peter's reaction but he didn't move. He was huddled up in the corner of the elevator. Tony sighed in defeat.

"One day you'll understand that you're as important to me as you make me feel in return."

"I don't think it's actually possible, Mr.Stark." Peter mumbled back, making Tony laugh out loud.

"Pff. Try me. You don't even call me by my name."

Peter lifted his head up with a gasp.

"Mr.Stark is your name."

"That's my old man's name. I'm Tony. Tones. Anthony for those I hate the most. Stark for the annoying ones."

"Yes, but you'll always be Mr.Stark for me." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Alright, Mr. Parker."

"No." Peter retorted, already knowing Tony was never going to stop.

"What did you say, Peter Benjamin Parker ?"

He had no idea how it could get worse than that.

"How dare you?"

"I'm not hearing you, Spider-Boy ."

Okay, now he knew.

"Tony, stop it please." The man in question raised his hands up in the air in triumph.

"That's my boy !" Peter chuckled and leaned back against Tony's side.

"I'm kidding, you know? You can call me however you want. Even the stupidest nicknames." Tony declared and looked up at him.

"Do you have stupid nicknames?" he asked.

"One time a guy called me Tony Stank."

Tony grinned when he heard Peter's loud laugh again. He doesn't think he can live without hearing his kid's laugh ever again.

Suddenly, the elevator started moving again, this time smootlhy and without any problems.

"Looks like we're going back up again."

They raised to their feet and waited for the doors to open to the meeting's floor.

"You'll wait in the corridor? It's pretty boring, i don't want you to endure these guys anyway." Tony said before the door opened and they were leaving the terrible elevator behind.

"Yeah, no problem"

Peter sat down on of the chairs and watched Tony approaching the meeting room, but before he could enter Peter stopped him,

"Oh and Mr-I mean, Tony?"

The man turned back around and nodded at him to go on.

"Even...Even Dad?" Peter's voice was shaking. Tony stood frozen in astonishment. He was not expecting this. But saying he hadn’t dream about it felt like a lie.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah that's a perfect name"

Peter grinned and Tony sent him a wink before finally entering the room.

#spiderman #peter parker #peter parker and tony stark #irondad #spiderson #mcu fandom #mcu fanfiction #spider man fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #irondad and spiderson #irondad fanfiction #irondad spiderson

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madi-writes-things · 7 months ago

Text

Nobody Pt. 7

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,255

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited

A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.

if I missed something, please let me know

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.

“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”

I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.

“”“”“”“”“”

The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.

Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-

Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.

He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.

“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”

I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”

He meant it.

I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…

But here we are.

“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”

He’s rambling, I love it.

I love him.

“”“”“”“”“”

it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.

It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.

It’s always the same:

-It starts with tossing and turning

-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)

-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake

-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.

He doesn’t have to.

I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.

I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.

I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.

“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.

he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.

I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.

“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”

“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.

“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.

“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.

“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”

“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.

“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”

“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.

“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.

“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”

I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.

“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.

Then I’m crying.

And Matt is holding me while we both cry.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi

#madi writes things #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #sh!reader

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inthepeakymidwinter · 2 years ago

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Teach Me. (Part 2) (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Y/N gets a temporary promotion and gets overwhelmed. Thomas calms her down. Flirting flirting flirting. Word Count: 1338 TW: Panic Attack, Mention of alcohol Read Part 1 Here! Tags: @globetrotter28 @theshelbyclan

———————————————

A few days had passed after Thomas and I’s brief meeting and I had a hard time thinking straight. It was a Friday and I was at my desk going through the past week’s billing statements. I was trying to focus in on all of the numbers but Thomas Shelby’s perfect face kept popping up in my mind and distracting me. “Oi! I’ve been calling you from my office for the past ten minutes. What the hell’s going on?” Polly screamed at me from in front of my desk. I looked up at her with wide eyes and shrugged. “I’m sorry I didn’t-“ She cut me off, “I’ve been trying to get you into this meeting, stupid girl. Let’s go”

She rushed off back to her office and I got up from my desk to follow her. When I stepped inside, I noticed that it was just Polly, Arthur, John, and Thomas. Instantly I felt the “oh shit” feelings and I wanted nothing more but to hide under Polly’s desk. I wasn’t prepared to face Thomas again after last nights conversation.

“Now, as you all know…I am going for a temporary leave. I’ve made plans to go visit the sea with Michael and I needed to find a good replacement for my time gone. That’s why I’m letting Y/N take over things until I’m gone starting next week” Polly’s new information shocked me. I couldn’t possibly take over her role, I didn’t even know half of the things she did around the office. “But I-“ I cried out. “Not now Y/N, you’ll do fine” She interjected. My heart raced and I didn’t dare look to anyone but Polly even though I felt everyone’s eyes on me, especially Thomas’. I could already feel the burning tension from everyone around me. I knew the other boys were mad at her news and I never wanted to take away an opportunity from them in the first place.

“Y/N, I’ll have you work closely with Thomas to prepare for Race Day. Just think of it as a two week promotion until I’m back…Anyways that’s all for now so you can go back to your desk” Polly ordered. I looked up at her and then my eyes darted towards the dark-haired Mr. Shelby. I felt him staring from the moment I walked in the office and once I finally looked in his direction his eyes met mine with a sinister smirk. I couldn’t bare to spend another minute in that office so I rushed out as soon as Polly told me I could go. I gasped for air and felt the cold office air hit my heated cheeks. I walked down towards the bathrooms and started unbuttoning the first three buttons of my blouse. I took my hair out of the neat bun I had it in and struggled even harder to breathe. I tried so hard to fight the panic attack that was about to envelope me. When I tried for the doorknob to the only bathroom, I found that it was locked tight. I sighed deeply and bent over facing the door. “There’s a bathroom in my office…if you’d like” I heard a deep, familiar voice from behind me. I closed my eyes for a minute and internally cursed myself out. I didn’t want to turn around and show him how I looked like…or more importantly the disastrous state I was in because of the recent news.

“I-..I’m..can wait..thanks” I stumbled on my words and cursed myself out again, this time a tear slid down my cheek and I couldn’t fight it on its way out. All the emotions were spilling out of me at once and there was no way I would be able to recover from the embarrassment that was soon to follow.

“Don’t be silly, love. Follow me” Thomas insisted. I slowly turned around and stared at the floor, trying hard not to get him to notice. “Oi…Now what’s happened to you?” He asked with his voice full of worry. I tried to speak but he filled in the gap between us suddenly by reaching out and feeling my cheek with the back of his hand gently. I gasped again when I felt the coldness of his hand running down my tear-stained cheek.

“I just…can’t..breathe” I gasped out once more.

“Look at me” He ordered. Against my wishes I was forced to meet my daydreams with reality. I flickered my eyes up until they met with his icy blue ones. “Breathe with me, Y/N…You can do this” He spoke and I nodded my head. I looked at his perfect jaw line as he inhaled slow and exhaled even slower. I repeated his actions and slowly felt myself come back to a somewhat normal state of mind.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby” I thanked and watched his blue eyes turn into a colder, darker gray.

“Come with me” He spoke and held out his hand for me to hold onto. My mind began to spin but I followed his orders and grabbed onto his hand. We walked at a slow pace into his office, and he locked the doors behind himself. When he turned around, I noticed him staring in my direction. “I had Polly take time off” He admitted and walked towards me. As he took steps forward, I took steps back. All the way until I stopped myself on the edge of his desk. I rested on his desk, and he stood with his knees brushing against mine.

“Why? I don’t know how to do anything she does Mr. Shelby” I asked nervously, my cheeks heating up once more.

“I needed you to be closer to me. You’re like a bottle of whiskey that I can’t get away from…no matter how hard I try to push the bottle away…I still want another sip” He admitted. I kept blinking and thinking that this moment wasn’t actually happening, but all the feelings and signs in my body proved that it was real. I felt like reaching out and saying something, but I couldn’t find the right words to say. I didn’t think he was serious. “Besides, Polly would get in the way of things if I wanted you to myself for a moment” He smirked.

“You want to spend time…with me?” I asked once more, and he nodded.

“Do you want that, love? Do you still… want me to teach you?” Thomas asked me gently as he touched the buttons on the top of my blouse and looked up at me with a flicker of fire in his eyes. I nodded at him in approval, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “You have to tell me love. Use your words” He insisted and bit the corner of his lip as he watched me.

“Yes… Mr.Shelby” I spoke up. Thomas caressed my bottom lip with his rough thumb. His touch felt like a welcomed fire to my skin.

“Good girl” He praised and slowly lifted his hand off my face. He went to lean in closer towards me and I closed my eyes thinking he was about to kiss me. Instead, I was kissed softly on the cheek. That small kiss lit a flame under me, and I craved him even more than when I was daydreaming about him earlier. He buttoned the three buttons on my blouse that I had unbuttoned earlier and created some space between us. He cleared his throat and adjusted his stance before speaking once more. “You’re uh…free to go back to your desk. I’ll see you Monday morning at 8am sharp” Thomas commented and walked out of his office. I stood there in shock for a few moments before collecting myself and heading out onto the office floor. I made way to my desk and saw a note laying nicely next to the stack of billing payments I was working on earlier. It was signed by Thomas and had a short message that made me blush. “Are you sure you don’t want to work late tonight?”

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic

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almostcolorfulcolor · 1 year ago

Text

Death Note, meet Supernatural- CHAPTER 8

Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader, L (Death Note)/Original Female Character(s)

Summary: What if Death Note existed in a world with Winchesters in it? Would L finally have the evidence he needs to prove Light is Kira? How will L fare in a world where monsters are real and not every case is solvable by him? Lucky for him, there's a hunter here to work side-by-side with him.

A/N: Um...hey! Sooooooooooooo sorry for being so late. Since the last time I uploaded, somebody hacked my work email and I've been swamped with work. But as an apology, enjoy a special feature and a 3400+ words chapter! Hurray!

Chapter Summary: A trip down memory lane...or should I say a haunting? Surprise visitor in this one!

CHAPTER 7

Chapter 8: The Boy with the Demon Blood

The warmth on my face feels too nice with the breeze coming in from the sea. With every passing moment, a thought leaves my mind- decimating my todo one task at a time. When the panic attacks came and there was no one and nothing to help me, distract me- I took it upon myself to silence my mind forcefully. Close my eyes and will my muscles unlock. Banish every thought as soon as it came. Lose awareness of the weight on my shoulders and the pain in my chest. Between my stubbornness to make this work and the tiredness in my body, it became…possible after a while. After the shitty month we’d been having, this detour feels surreal. There is a pit forming in my stomach because surely, something is about to go wrong. Peace is not easily found, not for people like us. How things can get worse than they currently are, I am not certain. But they will.

One thing in particular. Ruby.

The demon who’s convincing my friend to drink demon blood to enhance his psychic abilities to kill the mother of demons, Lilith, and rescue his brother from Hell where he was dragged by hellhounds a little over a month ago.

Definitely wrong. I’d been doing everything to stop that from happening but I wasn’t sure how long I could make him see sense. Sam loved Dean, and the fact that Dean had gone to hell because he made a demon deal to bring back Sam from the dead was definitely increasing the guilt factor. Wrong is wrong though, and drinking demon blood is a solid no-no. Even Dean would agree with that. Not that I thought much about what Dean would agree with, or about him in general. My sanity was hanging by a thread, and any prolonged thought on Dean would make me completely lose it. I want him here, beside me, drinking beer and chasing after skirts. And I will make that happen. But not by losing Sam in the process.

A beer is placed in front of me. Silently accepting it, I bring it to my mouth. Now, there’s warmth beside me too. A very comforting warmth, one I’d recognize in my sleep, one that I never want to go away, one I crave too much. I’m not relaxed now. I’m using every ounce of strength I have to stay as I am and not lean into him. Those arms that have helped me for nights while I cried, those that look so strong, and inviting, are calling my name. But I resist. Comfort is something he doesn’t want now.

He only wants Dean.

I want him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The red liquid in a bottle isn’t wine.

She finally convinced him.

I drop the groceries, sprinting, knocking the bottle from his hands. The walls are painted red.

My vision blurs as a sharp pain registers in my skull. “What the fuck, you bitch? That was my blood”, snarls Ruby as she presses me against the motel wall.

“Hands off, Ruby. Now.”

Good, atleast he cares this much.

Dropping me and whirling on him, she starts shouting. “I’m not your minion, Sam. I’ve been tailing you for months to convince you to use your powers for good and she is constantly against me. Get her in line. I won’t keep coming here to get insulted. You don’t need her. You come with me now and we can start with your training. Lilith isn’t going to kill herself.”

Sam’s expression is easier to read in his distress. He doesn’t want to leave me like this but he is set on getting revenge, getting Dean back. If he leaves now, my chances of getting him back are next to zero.

Getting onto my feet shakily, I make my way to Sam. The time for caution is gone. Stretching on tip-toes, I cup his face and bring it closer to mine. Sam’s shaky inhale gives me hope.

“Sam, look at me. Can you see what you mean to me? How much I care for you? Can you remember how much I care for Dean? I love him, and I want him back. But I also love you, and I don’t want to lose you. Please, Sam. This is demon blood. What if something happens to you? What if after drinking enough demon blood you turn into one too? It scares me, Sam. I’m so, so scared.”

My eyes close at this point, tears leaking out. I hold his face tighter, wanting to feel him after staying away for so long.

“Sam, please. We’ll start slow. We’ll develop your psychic abilities without the blood. It’s safer, right? And possible too. Please say yes, Sam. Stay with me. Dean is gone now, and until we get him back, we only have each other. Please be with me, Sam. Look at me. I need you, Sam. So much. Hold me, Sam. ”

He isn’t moving. My hands leave his face to find his hands. I place them on my waist and cup his neck. Stroke his chin. Touch his forehead to mine. “This isn’t bad, Sam, right? Please stay with me. I’m begging you.”

Cicadas are buzzing, curtains ruffling. Somewhere near, a dog barks. My heart gives a jolt.

Finally, he gives a jerky nod. Finally, I sob heaving in relief. Finally, the bitch leaves.

That’s the first night we sleep in each other’s arms.

Morning comes, and we’re both still holding onto one another.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days after that are filled with hunting demons and Sam trying to kill them with his psychic abilities. Few he manages, rest we exorcise after interrogating about Lilith's whereabouts. Every demon that proves useless makes Sam resent me more. Those are the nights he sleeps in his bed turned away from me. We still don’t talk. Barely perfunctory words are spoken, nods given, grocery lists written. I’ve taken to calling Bobby every time I’m alone, which is often. Sam needs his space and every second he’s out of my sight, I imagine Ruby cornering him again and Sam accepting her help. Bobby shares my fear but there’s not much he can do as Sam refuses to see him or any other hunter. The cases we stumble on, he ignores. I note them and ask Bobby to get some hunter on it, wishing I was on it. The thrill of the hunt would make me feel better. It’d feel wrong, without Dean. But those brief moments where nothing matters except you and the kill- I want that oblivion. The only time I get it now is in Sam’s arms at nights his highness does deign to grace my bed. Settled between his arms and chest, the world feels liveable. Like I didn’t see my best friend ripped to shreds and dragged to hell in front of me. Like there’s still warmth in the world. Like I can relax and close my eyes.

Sometimes, my growing feelings for him worry me. Because my feelings are mostly of love and worry while his eyes show nothing when he looks at me. It’s like he’s only doing this because I begged him to hold me. A duty he has to perform because someone who’s hurting asked him of it. These thoughts always make me feel guilty, and make me want to tell him to stop, lie that I don’t need it. But I never say this because what if my need is the only thing keeping him here and away from Ruby?

While trying to save Dean, I knew my biggest job would be to get him back once he got taken. I never thought it would be to save Sam from getting himself taken as well.

He shuts the TV off. In 3 steps, he’s on my bed. Lights are turned off, and I’m tugged down.

He’s spooning me today.

I allow myself a brief smile and pull his arm tighter around me.

Don’t let go, Sam .

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sipping my glass of sake, which was the only thing I could identify and pronounce in this bar, I glance around from my darkened corner at the other patrons of “Kariudo no Tsuki”, also called Hunter’s Moon. It must be popular cause I scored a ride on the app. A taxi would’ve been cheaper but my Japanese isn’t that good and I didn’t want to get lost. Currently, it’s 6 PM and people are starting to come in. I imagined it’d be like back home- mostly a hunter break stop but suits and lovebirds are also coming in. The interior looks rough but in a classy way. There is no one I can walk up to and just start talking. The hunter who gave me this address showed me a picture of a guy called Haru. He was short with a shorter mustache that reminded me of Hitler. Haru knew anything that happened here, but when I asked the bartender about him (thanks to Google translate), he just shot me a blank stare with “Haru no here”.

45 minutes later of people watching, my suspect walked in, headed straight to me and plopped down on the seat next to me after giving the bartender a meaningful look. There goes his 18%. He said nothing, just stared at me. People have been staring a lot here in Japan. Dean would stare back even longer, refusing to give in but I’m tired of this shit and want to get some work done. Plastering on my best smile, I start in English, “Mr. Haru, pleased to meet you. This is Anne. Could we please talk?” Seeing his nod, I’m inwardly relieved. Thank God he atleast understands English.

“You can guess what I do and why I’m here, correct?”

A nod.

“So can you please let me know your thoughts on how is Kira doing this murder? What have you found so far?”

Nothing this time.

I feel a headache coming.

“Mr. Haru, I understand you’re a hunter. I know you understand me. I need answers. There are mass murders happening and it’s our responsibility to stop them. Can you be of assistance?”

Nada.

My fingers tighten on the now-empty glass. I look away and count to ten. What a dick.

When I turn to him again, he’s gesturing to a girl. She comes and stands next to him and then he gestures to me.

Looking at me, she flinches a bit and I rearrange my expression into something softer bringing a tentative smile on her face.

“I’m Umi. What can I do for you?”, her sweet voice fills my ears.

Thank fucking God.

“Are you a hunter?”

She’s taken aback at this blunt question and stammers out a response. “N-no, I’m still being trained. But I know things.”

“Good. Please tell me your theories about the Kira case. Now please.”

“Well, there isn’t anything to tell. He’s been sent by God.”

Huh?

“Could you repeat that sweetheart?”

Umi’s answer is full of admiration. “Kira is only killing criminals, and he has decreased the crime rate dramatically. People feel safer with him. We believe God has sent him to deliver his divine justice. ”

Psycho alert.

“Kira is killing people, wielding a supernatural power we haven’t heard of before and you’re not concerned? What kind of hunters are you?”

Umi is quick to correct me. Me . “Not people, just criminals. And we haven’t heard of it before because that power belongs to God and we do not hunt God.”

God. of Death. Shinigami?

“So you know which God is doing it?”, wanting her to confirm my suspicions.

“That isn’t for us to know. But whoever it is has our thanks.” Her eyes have gone mad; she totally believes this crap.

Dropping my nice act, I scoff. “Are you fucking crazy? Kira murders . He is wrong. Anything, any God, helping him is wrong.”

For the first time, Haru speaks something. I don’t understand the work but his words are angry and eyes accusing.

Umi speaks up, “Haru says we know what you’ve been doing. You are just like the monsters you kill in America. We are holy people- we kill evil and respect the divine.”

“And Kira is DIVINE???”

All hints of a smile are gone from her face when she speaks next. “Keep your voice down. We won’t help you catch Kira. We don’t even want to find Kira. Let him rid the world of evil and then we can kill monsters in peace like us hunters are meant to.”

Haru speaks again and the girl nods furiously. “Seeing as you’re an American hunter, we have something of yours that we’re anxious to get rid of. Wait here.”

She disappears behind the back door. In the 15 minutes it takes her to get back, I realize I’m fucked. Being on a different continent, I have no idea how Japanese hunters work. I have no contacts. No one to turn to in case things get fucked up. I’ve told L that I’m working on a lead but this bar is a bust. Only thing I’ve left is the library now- and even then, killing a Shinigami would take weapons. Where and how to get them? L could take care of the police if there are bodies but I’d have to tell him why there are bodies. Including him in this supernatural angle could prove disastrous. Should I call Garth? Jody? Have someone come here to help me?

When Umi returns, I realize I don’t need to call another hunter from home.

Seems like they’re already here.

The girl accompanying Umi is a 15-year-old teenager looking furious and relieved at the sight of me.

Krissy.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Krissy finished her tale (with 3 burgers, 2 large fries and cokes), I marvel for the millionth time how we, who save the world, are constantly being fucked over. Her dad got her to investigate Kira, same as me but without the FBI’s help, and got eaten by a vampire. Krissy’s been stuck here since they came on a fake passport, she had no money, oh and yeah- that she’s a minor. She couldn’t contact anyone at home because who needs numbers when you have phones? But what happens when blood-crazy monsters trash your house and break all your shit? The hunters at the bar let her stay in exchange for doing some chores. I thank a God I don’t believe in or count on that it was not worse.

“So I have some yen saved from what they paid me. But if you get me back home- I have an aunt- I’ll pay you back,” Krissy says once she’s done eating.

“I’m getting you back sweetie, and don’t worry about the money. Humanity still exists no matter what you’ve seen.”

Her fingers start tapping on the table. “No matter what, huh? I’ve seen my father ignore me and go crazy to prove his worth by catching this psycho. What kind of person does that?”

Well, atleast he didn’t force Krissy to hunt. “Look sweetheart, I don’t know why your father did what he did. This life, it changes something fundamental inside people. We stop being regular people and become someone else. Just remember the good moments with him and leave it at that. Nothing’s your fault, so no need to look for answers that aren’t coming. Okay?”

Her nod is quick and shaky. The girl doesn’t cry, I respect her. “Your aunt, she reliable?”

“Um, I don’t really know. Dad only talked about her sometimes but she’s lived at the same house for 20 years. I remember the way.”

Not good.

My plan is made- atleast for her. I call my contact at FBI and tell him to have a fake US passport brought over to me with Krissy's face and a fake name. Earliest she can leave will be the day after tomorrow, six in the morning. Haneda to O’Hare, then to Sioux Falls Regional Airport. Jody will be there to pick her up and handle the rest.

Taking her back to the headquarters is a definite no. I pick the nearest motel to the airport and get ourselves a room. While Krissy’s enjoying a long-awaited bath (evident by her off-tune humming), my mind is reeling- I have 0 leads on Kira with just a hunch about Shinigami, and now a kid to take care of for 2 days. Meanwhile, L is there with Light and Misa who could very well be the murderers. What a mess.

Pulling up Watari’s number, I inform him that some personal business has come up requiring me to stay out of the headquarters until the morning of the day after tomorrow. “Your request for leave will have to be approved by Ryuzaki; please stay on the line while I confirm this with him.” Staring at the phone in disbelief, I contemplate chucking it out along with the tracker he placed on my belt.

“I thought your commitment to catching Kira would have you here with us day and night. What is so important that you must stay away?”, comes the bored drawl of the detective.

“As I told Watari, it’s personal.”

“What of the lead?”

I pinch my eyes shit remembering that shit show. “Terrible. Waste of time.”

“I could’ve told you that before and saved you a trip to Hunter’s Moon. ”

I sit up straight from where I had been lounging on the bed. Hearing hunter in L’s voice is like I’ve been in a dream and then suddenly falling in a dead drop.

God. Oh god.

“Anne? Anne?”

“Yes Ryuzaki?” I gasp. “Are you alright?” No. “Yes.”

“What happened at the bar?”, L prods. “Nothing. My lead turned out to be a Kira supporter. They don’t know who Kira is but they certainly won’t be helping us.” I wonder if the defeat in my voice is apparent to him or not. “Hm. Unsurprising. You should get back to the headquarters so you may actually prove useful.” Picking at my cuticles, I’m planning my trip to the local library to show him how useful I am. “Shut up, Ryuzaki. I told you, I have a personal thing to take care of.”

“Are you planning to engage in intercourse with a stranger?”

What. What.

My voice is a squeak. “Ryu- what the hell dude?”

“Well, you were at a bar, your location is at a motel now and asking for leave for personal reasons when you possibly can’t have any in a foreign country you’ve been in for less than 48 hours with no contacts. It’s a highly probable guess that you met a stranger at a bar and now want to have sex with him.”

His whole explanation- wow. “No, Ryuzaki. I’m not at the motel to have sex. Something really important and unrelated to the case has come up. I wasn’t expecting it. Real coincidence. But I have to take care of this. And as for being useful, I’ll do my research from the local library tomorrow and be back at the headquarters the next morning.”

“If you do anything stupid, the taskforce will not rescue you. Do not screw up the investigation. Do not draw attention to yourself during your library trip.”

Duh. “There goes the plan of wearing my big bird costume tomorrow. I was really looking forward to it.”

The robot does not laugh. I decide to get some answers for a change. “How are things at your end? Lovebirds acting usual?"

L enunciates like he’s talking to a 2 year old. “We cannot talk about that on the phone. It’s not secure.”

Rolling my eyes, I huff out a reply. “Like you haven’t got the most secure phones on the planet. Thanks for giving me one, btw. Definitely going to get up to all sorts of nefarious things on this one.”

A long-suffering sigh is my only answer.

I want more. I don’t want to hang up. I don’t want to face the surly, traumatized teenager about to get out of the bath. I don’t want to go back to planning my next move when I have nothing. I want Sam and Dean. And Cas and Bobby. And my mom and dad. And a hug. And someone to make me feel warm. And to keep talking to L- the only person I’ve allowed myself to trust one percent.

The wall I’ve been staring at goes blurry. I want a hug, now. NOW. I swallow- sharp, hot glass shards going down my throat. The call is still on. No one speaks. I disconnect.

I’ve let go.

A/N:

What do you think? First real scene of Anne with a Winchester. Sorry that the bar was a bust but I've always imagined that hunters from different countries don't collab and Team Free Will has messed up (with good intentions) so many times that I don't think they'd be too welcome.

Anyway, I've got the outline for the next chapter ready so it should be posted in a week. It's still a WIP so if anyone has got any scene request, just let me know!

Likes, comments and reblogs fuel me, don't forget to leave some :)

XOXO

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