#and bateman gets like really dizzy

[fluffishere]

One of my favorite American Psycho headcanons is (going with the idea that all of the murders were in his head and he never actually killed anyone): Imagine if Bateman faints at the sight of blood

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Four)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: When you meet Patrick's colleagues in Barcadia, you realize that you're getting more and more entangled in his lifestyle, which you didn't like at all. Escaping your golden cage with someone from your past is the only thing you can think about. The question is, will Bateman allow you to do that?

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, breast fucking, cum eating, swearing, implied murders, blood and violence, fainting, spanking, degradation, cheating, abusive and toxic behavior, unhealthy relationships, NSFW art, Patrick Bateman is a warning himself.

WORDS: 5.8k

A/N: Another chapter for my dear readers, I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Inflamed with an unquenchable desire for more, Patrick growled and slowed his thrusts, staring down at you. "Where shall I cum then, Becca? Huh? Your... hair? You want me to mess up your hair?" He teased, tilting his head up slightly. "I'm not putting on a fucking condom. I can't feel anything with one. "

His blatant statement about not using condoms made you nervous, but you managed to hide it. "Are you not going to use condoms...at all?" You asked with a hint of provocation. "I think...I think you told me you didn't want to have kids."

Did he really tell me that or am I hallucinating? 'Why can't I remember anything that happened this morning, and why am I so dizzy and my body feels like dough? Was that pill he gave me a painkiller or...'

Patrick huffed. "Well-no, I never told you... but there's no risk if I don't use a condom for this..." Patrick said through his teeth, averting his eyes as he lied to you. He would do everything in his power to make you believe that what happened this morning was all in your head.

Perplexed, you felt a sudden wave of nausea rise from your stomach, but Patrick continued, pressing your tits tighter against his throbbing cock. You needed him to climax or you might vomit right here and now. "Cum in my mouth...please...I beg you!" You urged him on, covering his hands with yours and opening your mouth wide so that his swollen tip now slid in and out with precious friction.

(Check out NSFW art on AO3!)

Bateman pressed your breasts together against his cock, moaning as he thrust faster. The man was a little surprised by what you wanted, but obliged. Huffing, he grinned and pulled on your hair, feeling himself on the verge of falling over the edge. Then Patrick pushed his tip into your mouth before he cummed hard, his hot seed filling your mouth and going down your throat. A little rough, Bateman yanked your head up so you wouldn't choke. With his eyes closed, he panted heavily and wiped his forehead with his arm.

Bateman's sperm did not taste as sweet as you expected. Because of your naivety and inexperience with sex, you really believed your friends' gossip about how delicious it felt when the man came right in your mouth because it tasted like fucking honey. But in reality, his seed was salty and very dense, making it hard to swallow, but spitting it out was not an option. Panting, you swallowed the last drop of the warm liquid and looked up at Patrick, who was still breathing heavily and enjoying the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

'I can't believe I made him cum...or did he do it himself?' Just the thought of him having a strong orgasm because of you made you feel strangely proud, but you shook off such thoughts before it was too late. "Can I use the bathroom, please?" You asked quietly, lying motionless under him. "I'm afraid we're going to be late."

Patrick blinked a few times before he opened his eyes. He sighed with satisfaction and moved away from you, pulling up his boxers. Relieved, Bateman didn't seem at all tired from the orgasm. He felt calmer and less impulsive now, returning to his friendly facade. The man chuckled. "You don't need to ask permission. This is your home too, you know." He said ominously before moving to the kitchen and quickly grabbing an Evian water from the fridge. He tossed it to you. "Drink this. Don't drink the tap water." Patrick stated, assuming you wanted to go to the bathroom to wash your mouth out. Then he went back to his bedroom and put his suit back on, running his hand over it to smooth out any wrinkles.

After almost 20 minutes, you finally got outside where the black limousine was waiting for you. Since it was late fall, the wind was quite cold, so you decided to put on one of your coats, and although it was not fur or super expensive, it was one of your favorites. Inside the limousine, Bateman took out his Walkman and put the earphones on his head before turning to look out the window as they pulled away. You didn't even try to get his attention. On the contrary, you even enjoyed a few moments of peace, as a new circle of hell awaited you in Barcadia. 'I brushed my teeth twice and I can still feel his taste on my tongue. God, how am I going to forget this?' Your train of thought was interrupted by a sudden tight grip on your knee. As you looked down at his large palm, then in his hazel eyes, you noticed something unusual in the way he was smiling at you, as if enjoying his triumph of getting what he wanted. Slowly, but determinedly, you removed his hand from your knee and adjusted the hem of your dress to give him no room to play. Patrick, in his Prada coat, took your hand firmly, not allowing you to pull away this time, opened the car door to get you out, and led you into the restaurant, where you were immediately seated at a table in a secluded part of the restaurant. 

(Patrick and my version of Becca by amazing @anyarlly!)

"Hello Price, Daisy-" the man greeted, then his eyes went wide. "...McDermott...and Van Patten." Bateman furrowed his brows, then looked at Price, who sat down and pulled out a chair for you. "You didn't tell me McDufus and his friend were coming tonight?" He whispered.

Price shrugged and pulled the lit cigar from between his teeth. "I invited them. They didn't have much to do tonight." He said casually before looking at you. He smiled a wolfish grin. "This must be your... oh, your FIANCE, Bateman." Price chuckled. "I can... tell it wasn't your choice. Definitely a step down from you-know-who." Timothy scoffed, chuckled at Patrick and gave him a high five. 

Soon the waitress came over and set menus for all of them. Even though you didn't hear the whole conversation, the echo of Tim's last words stuck in your head like they were imprinted on your brain. 'Just don't think about it, don't think about it.' Sighing sadly, you picked up the menu so quickly that it almost flew out of your hands, but you managed to hold it still, using it as a shield from prying eyes. You didn't listen to what they were saying, trying to concentrate on the huge list of dishes, but you weren't really hungry—you were still suffering from nausea. Patrick's sneaky touch on your leg under the table was just as sudden as it had been in the limo, but this time you couldn't just push his hand away. 'Damn it!'

Patrick chuckled, not bothering to defend you at all. Smirking, he opened the menu with one hand and looked at the list of meals. His other hand went down and rested on your leg and stayed there. He hummed and drummed on the menu with his fingers. "I think I'll have... peanut butter soup. The Times called it a... playful little dish." He smiled and put the menu down. "Is Paul Owen still handling the Fisher account?"

Craig chewed on a toothpick in his teeth, glanced up at you for a moment before looking back at the menu. He put it down and chuckled. "God, it's always the Fisher account with you, Bateman." He shook his head. "And of course the Jew still has it. Hell, I think he had to suck off some higher-ups to get it." He rolled his eyes. "I heard it's worth 800 million already."

"You're so full of shit, McDermott." Price said, shaking his cigar between his fingers. "It's only worth 400." He huffed and leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs. His eyes were on you for a moment before he looked at Daisy. "Take whatever you want, doll. Just make sure it's not too fattening." He grinned before he looked back at you. "So... where did you go to school? ACLU? Camden?" He took a drag from the cigar and blew a puff of smoke in your direction.

Timothy's question didn't really affect your mood, as you were already too fed up, but the way his girlfriend was staring at you was nothing but annoying. 'I wish I could throw that glass of water right in her smug face!'

Despite the evil thoughts in your head, you managed to keep up your fake facade of amity and politeness because you didn't want to have another scene with Bateman. "I'm a student at New York Medical College," you declared openly and without shame. "And I'm about to finish my internship as a scrub nurse." With that, you smiled at Price, realizing that your answer was not what he was expecting. Probably. As you were about to add another comment, Bateman's palm slid up your hip, almost touching you between your legs, but you stopped him just an inch away. Turning to look at him, you whispered barely audibly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"A nurse? Oh my God, that's so boring," Daisy complained, rolling her eyes. "Do you have a lighter, darling?" The blonde woman smiled at Tim and pulled out a cigarette, then wrapped her plump lips around it in a suggestive gesture. After Tim lit hers and his, Daisy noticed her nose wrinkle at the pungent scent of snuff, which only encouraged the blonde to blow more and more smoke. "I can't believe he's really going to marry that hick." Daisy whispered in Tim's ear before planting a small kiss on his neck.

Frowning, Price leaned back in his seat. "Huh... Well, I went to Stanford." He clicked his tongue. "I have a co-op here and a place in the Hamptons. And a Porsche." He bragged, running a hand through his slicked back hair. His attention was drawn back to his girlfriend, who chuckled softly. He pulled a book of matches from his pocket and struck a match, lighting her cigarette before relighting his cigar. He chuckled and tilted his head back from the kiss. "Well, it's an arranged marriage, darling. The poor bastard has no choice."

Disgusted, Daisy scoffed and took a long drag on her cigarette. "I can't believe such marriages still exist in the 20th century." The blonde continued to look at you and Patrick, and just as she was about to take another swipe, the waiter came to their table, ready to take their orders. "I think I'll have... a plate of Greek salad and fresh orange juice."

Patrick's attention was on McDermott. "Oh, Jesus McDermott—what does his being Jewish have to do with anything?" The man muttered, furrowing his brow. He moved his hand further up your thigh, his hand slipping under your dress. He touched the hem of your panties at your hips, keeping his eyes on McDermott. "A dreidel, not a menorah—you spin a dreidel." He rolled his eyes and looked back at you. He smiled, feigning ignorance. "I'm not doing anything, sweetheart."

Your fists clenched and unclenched under the table because the whole situation was so damn embarrassing and irritating. "Don't call me 'sweetheart,'" you hissed gritted clenched teeth before finally pulling Bateman's palm away from your leg. The waiter waited patiently for your order, but unfortunately you were about to disappoint him as you were not hungry at all. "Just... just a cup of coffee, please." You mumbled, dropping your eyes to the table and examining the beautiful napkin on it.

Patrick frowned at you for the tenth time during dinner, frustrated by your reluctance. The man sighed and looked back at the menu. "I'll have the peanut butter soup and an Evian." Then he pointed at you. "Along with the coffee, she'll have the pine nut salad with goat cheese." He said with a smile. Patrick didn't care if you ate it or not—he thought you could stand to lose a few pounds anyway, but it looked bad to go to a restaurant like this and not order any food.

"Well, that's what rich families do." Price shrugged and scanned the menu again. "I'll have the... tuna tartare with balsamic dressing. And a glass of red wine." He looked at Bateman with a smug smile. "No alcohol today, Bateman? Don't be such a lightweight." He chuckled. Patrick didn't react.

"I'll have the red snapper pizza with a glass of champagne." McDermott smiled and then looked at Patrick. "I'm surprised you didn't order the fucking potato pancakes, Bateman." He chuckled. 

David scratched his head, breaking his silence for the evening to place his order. "I'll have the... oh God…I think I'll have the... ceviche sandwich with pea dressing. And a cappuccino." He looked up at the waiter and adjusted his horn rimmed glasses. 

The waiter wrote down the orders and left. Soon the table was full of different dishes, and they all looked absolutely delicious, but it didn't help with the nausea at all. The men were still talking business when you noticed a tiny drop of blood on the napkin you held up to your nose, thinking you were about to sneeze. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." With that, you quickly got up from your seat and rushed to the nearest waiter to ask where you could find a bathroom.

Daisy didn't miss the sight of you walking away looking unhealthy, but the blonde just giggled. "She probably can't stand high cuisine, can she?" She chirped and looked at Tim for approval, hoping he would find her comment funny. "Patrick, do you remember my friend Claire? She has very rich parents, maybe you should meet her sometime?"

Patrick stared at his plate without touching it. The way his meal was organized was... just beautiful, he thought. He couldn't bring himself to ruin it, no matter how hungry he was. He looked up and saw you making your way to the bathroom. "Excuse me." He stood up, his eyes fixed on you. He would follow a few feet away so as not to be noticed. He slipped into the women's restroom, staying close to the wall.

Timothy watched Patrick leave, shaking his head. He started to eat, looking silently at Daisy until he swallowed. "I guess he's not interested. Don't blame him. Claire's a total bitch." He sneered.

As soon as you scooted into the ladies' room, you rushed to the sink and opened the cold water, noticing that your nosebleed was increasing. 'Damn, I haven't had a nosebleed in centuries. Maybe the pill Patrick gave me caused all this?' In panic, you hovered over the sink, almost choking, feeling the sharp headache and nausea, along with the metallic taste of blood running down your throat. You thanked God that the bathroom was empty and you wouldn't scare anyone with such a scene, but at the same time you suddenly thought that if you died here and now, no one would notice. With these cloudy thoughts, you slipped to the floor and lost consciousness.

Patrick came in just as you fainted. Annoyed, he looked down at your body with a puzzled expression on his face. Did he accidentally cause an overdose? Was the coffee poisoned? Did you have a heart attack? Were you murdered? Despite all these possibilities, he knew he had to act quickly if he didn't want you to possibly die. He took his monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and fixed your head in one place, pinching your nose to stop the flow of blood. He held your mouth open with his hand so you could breathe. Then, with ease, Bateman picked you up in his arms and slipped out the back of the restaurant. He didn't really care about abandoning his friends. They owed him a lot of paid meals anyway. 

Soon you were in his apartment again, lying on the couch with your head against the armrest.

Why is it so cold in here? Have I died? You felt nothing but a cold darkness surrounding you, as if you were falling into the black void but never reaching its bottom. Maybe you really died?  Everything was screaming about it when suddenly in your foggy head there was a loud children's noise, a group of boys chasing you, throwing stones at you and calling you an ugly face until they trapped you in the next alley.

"Look at her, boys, she's going to drown in her own tears!" One of the children laughed and pointed at you with a large wooden stick.

"Please... don't do this... I just want to go home... I didn't do anything wrong!" You begged, cowering in the dirty corner of the nearby building.

The group of bullies just giggled at your weakness when one of them suddenly screamed in pain. All eyes were on the tall, brown-haired boy, his eyebrows furrowed and his palms clenched into fists as he punched one of the boys right in his disgusting face. "Get away from her or I'll kick your asses! All of you!" Patrick barked, pulling up the sleeves of his fancy shirt.

Only now did you realize that you were dreaming, because you could see Patrick's childish face so clearly, as if you were back in time. To the moment when he had been the one to protect you from getting hurt. You wanted to stay in this dream forever, you wanted to touch Patty's soft hair and hug him tightly, but soon the image from your past began to fade and your eyes were wide open as you looked at the perfectly white ceiling above you. "Patty?" You whimpered and looked around, your eyes starting to water as you realized you were alone. "I'm so scared...I need you..." You covered your face and sobbed like a little baby.

Meanwhile, Patrick was in the kitchen, cutting up various fruits on a plate. He knew that you hadn't eaten anything today, which was probably the reason why you fainted. Patrick didn't really know how to cook, so he just cut up some fruit that you could easily eat. He perked up a bit when he heard a familiar nickname, but he couldn't remember the last time he had heard it. The man walked into the living room with the plate and set it down on the table. He stared at you with a blank face as you sobbed, unsure of what to do. "Uh-hey... stop it." Bateman nudged your shoulder with his hand, his eyebrows furrowed.

Bateman's stern voice helped you come to your senses, and now you felt so embarrassed, so humiliated. Visibly shaking, you hugged yourself, your hands rubbing nervously over your shoulders. "What was that medicine you gave me before dinner?" You asked quietly—a sheer testament to your exhaustion and weakness. "I felt bad from the moment we stepped outside," you added, closing your eyes. "I still feel like shit... Did you plan to kill me, Patrick? If you want to get rid of me so badly, you can just talk to your mother and this marriage won't happen." Despite your attempts to stop yourself from crying, several tears streamed down your tired face. You hated yourself for being so vulnerable and weak, so without caring about your poor statement, you tried to stand up.

'Christ,' Patrick thought, biting the inside of his cheek. The man couldn't stand that kind of crying. He really only liked crying when he physically caused it. "I didn't give you any medicine." He said through clenched teeth. "I gave you a Xanax and some Evian water. Evian water. Do you hear me? Xanax and an Evian. I didn't drug you." He ignored all of your words and pushed you back down from your standing position. Irritated, he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look up at him, anger behind his eyes. "Look, I want you to pull yourself together. Stop making a fucking scene." He said slowly. "How many times do I have to tell you the facts? This... marriage is going to happen whether we like it or not? Capiche? Comprende?" Then he whispered. "This, uh, situation is the only thing keeping you alive. If you weren't with me, Manhattan would eat you alive. Especially with the way you act. You really have a rotten attitude. Now stop fucking crying!"

'A rotten attitude, really?' Bateman's statement echoed in your head like a broken record. You brushed his hand away quickly. "Maybe it's you who's been spoiled by wealth and money?" You replied in a hysterical tone. "You gave me such a powerful sedative without telling me? You... you're a fucking monster, you..." your eyes suddenly rolled back into your head and you leaned on Patrick's shoulders for support. "I hate you... for killing the person... who was the light in the darkness for me... my whole life." And with that, you fainted again, going limp in his embrace.

Patrick scowled and clenched his hands at his sides. He thought about grabbing an ax and throwing it right in your face to shut you up. The man stood still. "Uh, are you... you know, mentally disabled?" He asked, almost exploding with anger. "I SPECIFICALLY told you it was a Xanax." Did he? He couldn't remember. "YOU took it. I didn't make you take it. God, I can't deal with this, you STUPID BITCH!" Bateman snapped before you passed out.

A phone call was so out of place, but the female voice on the answering machine immediately caught Patrick's attention. "Hey Patrick, it's Courtney," she paused for a second, choosing her words very carefully. "I heard you were at Barcadia today... Patrick... I really miss you and," another pause hung in the air, but this time it was obvious that Courtney was trying to suppress her sobs. "Luis is away this weekend, I thought... I thought you could come and see me... if you want."

Patrick was shaking with rage now. He stood up and pushed you away from him. Huffing, he stared down at you before he focused on the beeping phone. He walked over and brought it to his ear. "Yes... Courtney... I'll be there. Just, just don't cry when I get there. I've already had to deal with that today." Bateman said and then hung up. He looked back at you with a disdainful expression before he left the apartment and grabbed his briefcase. No sex could really calm him down from the anger he felt. He'd find a bum or a prostitute afterwards. Annoyed as hell, the man locked the apartment door and started walking to Courtney's brownstone, passing beggars and men who looked just like him and women who looked just like Evelyn.

The long day finally came to an end. 

The next time you opened your eyes, you were blinded by the light coming through the large window in Bateman's living room; you even had to cover your face from the brightness. Slowly, you got up from the couch, and after using the bathroom, you cautiously crept into the kitchen, where you found some sliced fruit that was starting to get musty, making you think that Bateman had probably forgotten about it. 'Wait, where is he?' Only now did you realize that you were alone, and that feeling lifted your spirits as you finally had the chance to call your ex-boyfriend Vincent. Although you didn't have a clear answer why the idea of calling him was so inspiring, since you had broken up a long time ago, but maybe... maybe Vincent would inform your family about Bateman's tantrums and you could escape this golden cage. With the grace of a cat, you slipped into Patrick's bedroom and picked up the phone to dial a familiar number of your college crush.

When another beep came from the receiver, you bit your lower lip. "Come on, pick up the phone, Vincent."

Just like in the movies, you heard a male voice right after you said those words. "Hello?"

"Vincent! Vincent, hi, it's Rebecca!" You brought the phone closer to you, holding it as if it were your lifeline. "I'm sorry to call you so early in the morning..."

"That's okay, I was getting ready for my daily shift anyway," the man paused and you could hear his thoughtful humming. "Did something happen?"

Closing your eyes for a second, you wanted to say yes, but then you pushed that thought away, not wanting to cause trouble for a person you once had a relationship with. "No, I just... thought maybe you could pick me up since today is my shift too."

"Sure," Vincent replied and you knew he was smiling. "Tell me the number you're calling from so I can call you back a little later."

After you gave the number, not really caring what Patrick might think about it, you and Vincent said goodbye to each other and hung up the phone. 'I hope that idiot doesn't come back before I leave'. The thought of Vincent accidentally walking into Patrick made your stomach churn. 'Dear God, please don't let this happen,' you prayed and went to the bathroom, still feeling dizzy but desperate to freshen up. At first you thought about taking a shower, but then you changed your mind and decided to take a warm, relaxing bath. It took you several minutes to get the bath ready and get out of your clothes. As you sat in the refreshing water, you let out a sigh of relief. Grinning like the most bratty child, you grabbed the bottle of soap sitting next to you and poured a handful of it. 'Ohhh, I wish Patty could see me now.' That was the first time you really had fun in this apartment. The steam soon filled the bathroom, making you too relaxed and you didn't even notice that you were falling asleep as you leaned against the edge of the tub and closed your eyes for just a second. 'Just a second.' You whispered to yourself before you drifted off.

Patrick entered the apartment at 8 in the morning. He was still wearing his Armani suit from last night, an overcoat, and black leather gloves. In his hand was a blood knife he had just used to stab a homeless woman to death. Blood and body parts were splattered on his gloves, coat, and even his face. He longed for a shower. Or better yet, a bath. A quick one. He had to go to the office today... and he had a lunch reservation with McDermott at Pastel's. And Price was going to take him to the Tunnel again. Patrick first washed the knife in the kitchen sink, watching the blood run down the drain. Frowning, he dried it and set it aside, his nose wrinkling as he noticed a strange odor in the air. He looked over and sighed, grabbed the fruit and threw it in the garbage. Then Bateman walked to the bathroom and took off his gloves and coat, leaving them on the floor. He then removed his Armani jacket, silk tie and cotton shirt. He admired his rock-hard body for a moment in the mirror before looking at the tub. He jumped and took a step back, his eyes wide with fear. He took a step closer and sighed. "Oh, Christ." He moved to the tub and tapped you on the hip with his bloodied shoe. "Get up!" Then he kicked you. "Do you know how pathetic you look?"

Suddenly you woke up with a squeal, startled by the sudden sharp pain in your leg. "Ouch!" You groaned before raising your eyes to see Patrick's tall figure standing next to the tub. "Patrick?" Shocked by the pain, you even forgot to cover yourself, as if Bateman hadn't already seen you naked. When you noticed the blood on your fiancé's face, you swallowed nervously and blinked several times as if to shake off the fear. "Is that blood? What happened? Are you hurt?" your questions were so fast and erratic that you even choked on your breath. "Do you need help?" You could not ask his question because you were a nurse.

Patrick touched the blood on his face and looked down at the red that stained his fingers. "Uh, no." The man said slowly. "It's... cranberry juice, cranapple." Then he stopped, seeing that the blood was too dark and thick. "I mean, chocolate. From a.. Dove bar. Hershey's syrup." He clicked his tongue, then looked back at you. "Now get out of my tub. What are you doing in there anyway?" He asked, then held up his hand. "You know what, I don't even care. Just... just go. Go... study or something. And stop sounding so damn sad."

Frowning, you wanted to say something in protest, but then you decided to just do what he asked, because you didn't want to have another fight. Slowly you got out of the tub and took the towel to wrap around your wet body. The fact that Bateman didn't even care about your nakedness was a bit disappointing, but now you should have concentrated on other things—exams and your work, because yesterday you had missed your preparation and hadn't even told your boss that you wouldn't come. With an annoyed face, you walked to the door, grumbling: "Have a good time, narcissistic king.

Excited, Patrick suddenly stopped you by putting a hand on your shoulder. He had a tight grip on you, the veins in his hands were visible. "A word of advice—if you're going to walk around my house like a slut..." He motioned to your body. "Then don't be a prude when I want to fuck you. Okay?" Before you could respond, he landed a hard slap on your ass before pushing you out, closing and locking the door. He sighed and finished undressing, putting an ice pack on his face as he filled the tub with water. He soaked his body and let his violent impulses slowly drift away for the day.

Even after some time, your ass still burned from the hard spanking Bateman had given you, but you tried to concentrate on your studies. Again and again you read the same sentence because you couldn't concentrate on anything, all you could think about was what had happened to Patrick and was that really a chocolate? As a nurse, you could tell blood from everything else, but why did he lie to you? Maybe he didn't want to make you nervous...although that wasn't really his type of attitude. Another thing that was bothering you was who did he spend the night with? Probably Courtney, since she called him last night, or maybe he called some prostitutes and they had an orgy. 'Fuck, why do I care?' You scoffed when suddenly the phone rang. Seizing the moment while Bateman was still in the bathroom, you dashed across the living room and grabbed the hung up phone. "Vincent? Vincent, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," the guy replied, bringing the phone closer. "Do you still want me to pick you up? I'll be leaving in a few minutes." Vincent looked out the window and saw that it was starting to pour outside. Your sudden call an hour ago was like a thunderstorm in the clear sky. It made him so nervous and stirred up some old feelings he thought had gone away long ago, but they hadn't and now he wanted to help you with anything you needed.

At the same moment, Patrick stepped out of the bathtub, grabbed his towel and ran it through his hair. He used his fingers to style it slightly, letting his bangs fall into his face. He wrapped the towel around his hips, leaving most of his body exposed. Enjoying the refreshment, he walked out and was about to go into the bedroom when he heard your voice. Bateman stopped and looked into the room to see you on the phone. 'Vincent? The name wasn't familiar. His brother had a friend named Vincent, but he doubted it was the same person. He strode into the room and took the phone from your hand, gently but forcefully. His unhappy expression suddenly changed to a smile as he put the phone to his ear. "Hi. Pat Bateman. Who do I, uh, have the pleasure of speaking to?"

Vincent almost bit his tongue when he heard Bateman's baritone on the other side of the phone. After a short cough, the man put the phone back to his ear. "I'm Rebecca's lecturer and I'm very concerned about her absence from yesterday's lectures," he lied, trying to keep his composure so that Patrick wouldn't notice. "And she also mentioned that you can be aggressive at times. Is that true?"

"Give it to me!" Suddenly you grabbed the phone and pulled it away from Bateman with all your might. "Give it to me or I'll start screaming and your neighbors will call the police!" You were absolutely cold-blooded and desperate in your attempts to snatch the phone from him. When Patrick tried to push you away as an annoying pest, you were ready to bite him without fear.

Scowling, Patrick let go of the phone when you reached for it and stared at you. He calmly walked to the phone dock and pressed a button, the phone shutting off and going to dial tone. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair before turning back to you. The man grabbed your hand to steady you, his face looking more exhausted than angry. "Listen to me." He said softly, staring at you intensely. "If you continue this behavior, you will ruin my life. If you keep acting like a...victim...like you're trapped here...calling for help and making up rumors about me to your ex-boyfriends, and yes, I know that's not your teacher—I've met her. Hear me out. You…You're going to bring down everything I've spent my life building." He inhaled slowly. "I'm just as trapped as you are... and I know my behavior can be... erratic at times, but I really am trying my best. Do you understand that? Do you hear the words I say to you?"

Breathing heavily, you fixed your still wet hair. "When you say I'm not a victim," you paused and swallowed. "Why can't I have a fucking phone call?" you asked, crossing your arms defensively. "He's not my ex-boyfriend! He's just a guy from my college and we work together..." Bateman's hot breath on your cheek made you stop talking and jerk away. "And I'm not spreading rumors, I just needed to explain why I wasn't there yesterday." The dangerous glow in the man's eyes was so damn scary that even though you had so much more to say, you decided to save it for another time. "I... I should get ready for work." Sitting on his big bed, so small and weak, wearing only a long shirt and nothing underneath, you felt like a caged bird whose owner was teasing it with an open window, proving to the statement that freedom was only an illusion.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[christianbaleismyworld]

Hi guys this is my first post so it may not be perfect but enjoy

Ship:Patrick Bateman x fem!reader

Warnings(murder,swearing,violence,patrick being nice😱)

If your a minor dont read for your own good!!!

BREAK

You were getting ready for a nice warm bubblebath,you had a hard day at work.you were in a bathrobe looking trough the mirror looking in to the abyss,finally you got out of your thoughts that you could go to the bath.you lie down,you felt a wave of relaxiationg go down your body suddenly you heard the phone ring,you couldnt just get out of the bath to answer a phone call so you just staid in bath for 30min.when you got out of the bath you went to your closet and chose a pretty and a warm pyjama (it was winter)than the phone rang again,you went to pick it up and you said “who is this?”a angry voice yelled “why havent you picked up the fucking phone you bitch!?!?”it was your toxic boyfriend,you explained why “anyway i want to break up with you i found someone better than you,so no need to bother me again you annoying brat”he said,you broke down in tears on the floor bc you really loved him even tho he was toxic but now it was all over.after having a breakdown you went to the fridge to get some icecream,after getting it you went to the living room to sit on your soft couch to watch your favourite movie.after the movie you went to bed hugging your pillow because it made you comfortable and feel safe

TIMESKIP TO WORK

At work you got so many piles of papers and they had to be done till tomorrow,you were so tired that you almost started sleeping but gladly your co-worker came in “Hey y/n there is someone that would like to meet you,can i let him in?”she said.”ofcourse i am not busy right now”(ofcourse you were lying)She letted a tall handsome man in “hello you must be Y/n L/n,im Patrick Bateman nice to meet you”he said in a gentle but a very low voice “Yes!Nice to meet you too Mr.Bateman”you said a bit flustered.”So i have some business things i would like to discuss”he said “Sure go ahead”you said quickly “Well there has been some problems in our orders that we have ordered from here,is everything okay in here?”He asks a bit worried and annoyed “Omg!im so sorry,i havent paid any attention on my workers,i apologize this wont happen anymore”You said embarassed.After 15mins of talking “Hey y/n would you like to join me and my friends to a club to night?”patrick asked “Oh sure i would like that”you answered a bit slowly “nice ill meet you there,oh and here is my business card!”He gave you his business card from his pocket “Thank you!”you answered to him

TIMESKIP TO NIGHT

You were applying your make-up on and doing your hair,after that you go to your closet to find the perfect dress for you.You found the perfect dress that was black and had diamonds on it and it wasnt too long or too short.Your cab finally dropped you to the club it was very big and you could hear loud music come out,so you went in and tried to find patrick and his friends,they were in a corner drinking alcholol like real business men after a long day at work.”you gasped and saw your exboyfriend in there with them,you got scared and almost got a panick attack until a nice man asked you if you were okay “Lady are you okay!?”He asked worried “i dont know i think i need to sit down…”you said feeling dizzy,patrick saw you across the room and came over to you and the man “y/n are you okay?”patrick asked with a annoyed and an angry voice “im fine…”(you lied again)”you can go now”Patrick shoed the man away and patrick took you with him to the corner,your heart started bounding harder and harder the closer you got to your ex.You sat next to patrick and your ex asked patrick why you where there angrily “shes my goodfriend,shes our guest today”patrick said.after a while a gorgeus man sat next to you,everyone greeted him saying “Hey Paul you finally got here”.He greeted them back and looked at you and said “oh hello miss,im paul allen”, “oh hi im Y/n L/n nice to meet you paul!”you said quick,He shouted to everyone on the table “Im serving!”and everyone started shouting,after everyone had 3rounds it was time to go home,you and Paul were totally drunk because you weren’t the best with alcohol,neither was Paul.Patrick said he’d take Paul home and he at least called a cab for you.Next day you came back from grocery shopping,when you were about to open your apartment door you saw Patrick across the hallway with a massive garbage bag “Patrick you had garbage day or something?”you asked “oh yeah,i did”he said.after you got home you took your jacket off and went to the kitchen to unpack your groceries,after a while you got a knock from the door you stood up and went to open the door,it was Patrick he looked you like some predator you were a bit scared what was about to happen, “Y/n,i’m in love with you,your gorgeous,beautiful,stunning you are like a treasure to a pirate”he said gently,you were in a shock after what you just heard “Patrick,i love you too”you smiled at him.he kissed you from happiness witch you never thought he would do because he was Patrick Bateman,obviously.After that you made food(meat soup)”mhmm…. im still suprised that he just confessed to me”you were thinking by yourself

part 2 coming soon

im tired so yall have to wait for a part 2

[mypoisonedvine]

j.d.!!!! congrats on 15k!!! that's an awesome milestone. i have been hanging out around here since hml (which honestly, changed my life). because of you, i read characters that i've never even met before just because i know the fic is going to be wonderful because you wrote it.

i spend most of my time on this site as an oscar isaac simp so i am here to say that i think you'd write any of the moon knight alters very well.

i also came around a while ago speaking the praises of ex machina's nathan batemen. and i'm here to say [re: request] that nathan bateman has a (something) understanding of the boundaries of the people living in his house. he likes to touch, especially in instances where its hard (or not possible) for the other party to say 'no'. and i think he also uses his cameras to spy on his guests (and especially the guests he finds attractive).

^^ that can be a request or a part you ignore if it doesn't spark your fancy. again, congrats! i'm excited to be hanging around for a long while longer.

oh yes, oh yes yes yes, this is a great request and nathan bateman is the oscar isaac character I understand the best so I'm happy to take a crack at this creep! somehow I just needed to write somno with him...

(and thank you for the kind words, I can't respond fully because you're so sweet and I will fully cry if I really get into it, but, THANK YOU you're amazing)

Leaning back with a sigh, Nathan settled into his chair with the glass of wine resting in his hand. Watching you sleep on the camera feeds was his new nighttime routine, though he couldn't explain exactly why; well, maybe he could, if he tried.

But he wasn't really interested in wondering if it was wrong to watch you on the cameras, or to get you tipsy on wine and get touchy while you were too out of it to really notice, or to install a new camera in your shower and jerk off to the pictures of your naked body dripping with water.

He also didn't really feel like questioning himself as he drugged your dinner, planning to finally feel you on the inside now that he'd gotten a few tastes of the outside.

"How do you like the carbonara?" he asked you after you'd taken a few bites.

"It's great-- did you make this?" you noticed, and he smiled proudly.

"You're pretty observant," he chuckled. "Yeah, I did, hopefully it's edible."

"Yeah!" you assured. "You're a good cook. Do you make Italian a lot?"

"I attempt to," he shrugged, "but I also try not to go too heavy on the carbs. Of course, I'll cheat for a special occasion..."

"Is my being here a special occasion?" you asked coyly, and he nodded as you smiled. "I figured the shine would've worn off after three weeks."

"It never does," he promised. "You're great company."

You were already blinking slower and longer; he fought back a smile. "Maybe not," you disagreed, "I'm a little tired... I might be a party pooper tonight."

"Nothing wrong with turning in early," he soothed, "but I hope you'll stay awake for the rest of dinner."

"Yeah, I hope so too," you breathed, taking another bite, likely to try to get your energy up. But, of course, it was no help at all, and he caught you getting more and more dazed as the meal went along.

He was in the middle of talking to you about some computing concept when you suddenly tried to stand up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I think I need to lie down," you mumbled, but you sat back down in the chair after only standing for a couple seconds. "I'm dizzy..."

"Hey, shh," he cooed as he got out of his chair and moved around the table, standing next to where you sat.

"Nathan, I..." you sighed, trailing off as you slumped back in your chair limply. Your eyes were shut, your breathing was slow and steady; he checked your pulse, then gave you a few light slaps to the cheek to make sure you were out.

"Okay," Nathan breathed as he scooped you up into his arms and dragged your body to the couch, "come on, let's lay you down."

He set you on the cushions with a sigh and returned to the table to get his drink before sitting next to where your head laid on the couch. For a few minutes, he just enjoyed the silence.

"You're gonna be asleep for a few hours," he informed you suddenly. "You won't remember anything when you wake up... I'll just tell you you had too much to drink."

He let out a contented exhale as he started to pull up your shirt, his shorts already getting tighter as he exposed your tits to his gaze. He kept his drink in one hand as he took turns groping your breasts with the other, pinching your nipples slightly to watch them harden. Next, he moved his hand lower, over your stomach and down into your shorts; he hummed to himself at the feeling of your slick folds, warm and silky, and your clit which already felt a little swollen. He couldn't wait to see how much more sensitive it got while your body was pliant and helpless to him.

Getting up, finally, he set his drink on the coffee table and pulled your shorts and underwear down completely, tossing them aside; but your shirt was too much work to maneuver off of an unconscious body so he just left it pushed up. He lifted and spread your legs, sitting down between them, and purring at the sight of your exposed pussy. "You've got a pretty hole," he noticed with a little smile, rubbing his fingers over you slowly. Finding you not quite wet enough yet, he went ahead and moved his hand out of the way to spit right on your cunt, before spreading it with his fingers and slipping two inside you.

He hummed at the feeling of your warmth, impressed by how tight you were and the perfect friction of your walls. He knew already how good you would feel around his cock, and so he pulled his fingers out to lift his hips and push his own shorts and boxers down. Stroking himself until he was fully hard, he stared at your sleeping form and took a deep breath in and out.

"I waited too long to do this," he decided as he sat up on the couch, turning to face you and pulling you closer by your hips. Rubbing your pussy with his fingers one more time to make sure you were ready, he groaned quietly as he grabbed his cock and leaned down to push himself inside you.

He shut his eyes tightly right as he filled you to the brim, nearly overwhelmed at the heat around him; he couldn't help but thrust right away, not too fast yet but as deep as he could go. He could tell he was reaching the end of you, because he had to really force the last inch in. He was probably hitting your cervix, and considering how he picked up his pace suddenly, he was hitting it pretty hard... poor thing, you'd be screaming bloody murder if you could feel this right now. You'll probably feel it in the morning... maybe a little injected painkiller will keep you from asking questions he doesn't want to answer tomorrow.

"Baby," he breathed as he fucked you faster, keeping himself upright with one hand and getting back to feeling your tits with the other.

It felt good to fuck you, but it felt even better to own you, right now. Your body was his to use until you woke up, and since he had a few hours, he planned to use you over and over again while he could. You'd be getting more than a few loads before the night was through, he could tell already.

The first one came quicker than expected, but after weeks of watching you and pushing the boundaries slowly, he was pretty on-edge; he pulled out and stroked himself as fast as he could until he came a few seconds later, panting as his come painted your stomach and chest in impressively-far-reaching stripes.

"Yeah, fuck," he praised you as he covered you in his seed, only to shove his dick right back in you again afterwards. That was just the effect you had on him, apparently. "Gonna come inside this time," he promised. "Don't worry, we'll wash it all out before you wake up... well, most of it, at least."

[fizzyxcustard]

Betrayal (Armitage Summer Splash. Day 4)

As part of @lathalea and I's Armitage Summer Splash, I present to you, day 4.

Masterlist of fics for Summer Splash

Prompts: "You were the best thing that ever happened to me." Betrayal trope.

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Angst, language, spoilers

Summary: Lucas and Amy are fast approaching their wedding, and Amy is now working for MI-5. Ruth comes to her with a grave concern. Is Lucas really who he says he is?

Comments/Notes: If anyone would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please say. This fic delves into spoiler territory for any of you who have not watched Spooks. My Ruth fangirling comes out strong in this fic; she was actually my favourite character in the series. It also uses the OC of Amy from my fan fiction Covert Eyes, which you can find in my master list on my blog.

"I'm so sorry, Amy," Ruth said softly.

Amy was shaking from head to foot, wishing that all of this was just a bad dream and she'd wake up in Lucas' arms, warm and content.

But as Amy opened her eyes, the photo of Lucas was still there in front of her. It was not her Lucas. This man was a stranger, and the longer that she looked at his name, printed in black ink, the more dizzy she became.

On the other side of the building, Lucas was watching Amy and Ruth on the CCTV, and there he could see a photo of the real Lucas North; he zoomed in, focusing on the image, looking into Lucas' eyes one last time. This was the man that Amy had really pledged herself to: MI-5 agent, competent, loyal, born with the name printed on the document.

He had to get to Amy, talk to her, plead with her, and use any force necessary to get her away with him.

Earlier that week and Lucas had noticed Ruth's shift in behaviour towards him, only giving weak smiles and actively trying to avoid him. Then she would sneak away from her desk for long periods, and after following her via the CCTV systems, he had found what she had been viewing.

***

Amy sat down at the table as Ruth left the room, staring at the photo in front of her. Surely there was a mix up; this man probably had the same name and that was it. But Amy trusted Ruth, more so than she did many of the other officers. Ruth Evershed would never lead anyone astray and always put what was right before emotions. In fact, it had been Amy's strong belief since she came to work at MI-5, that Ruth should have been the chief of the department, but when Lucas had been given the position, Amy had been happy for him all the same.

The door opened and closed.

"I've disabled all the CCTV in this room, but only for fifteen minutes," Lucas' deep voice came. "We need to go."

"I'm going nowhere with you," Amy wept, getting to her feet. "And don't you dare tell me that Ruth is lying. Because I know that will be what you say next."

Lucas circled the table, his eyes never leaving Amy's, who also circled, trying her hardest to maintain distance. "No, she isn't lying. You're right. I know you've always trusted her, and you're right to."

Tears fell down Amy's cheeks. "I was so stupid for ever letting you back into my life. All you've done is lie."

"Not in everything. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. There's no lie in that."

"Who are you?"

"Come with me and I'll tell you everything. We can leave, go home, get our passports and be on the next flight to wherever you want to go."

"I'm not leaving with you," Amy growled. "You will tell me right now who the fuck you are."

"My name is John Bateman." He spoke so simply and so to the point. No denying facts. "I knew Lucas many years ago and needed to get back home, so I took his passport."

"Because you just do that, don't you? Pick up someone else's passport and begin using their name..."

"I had reason to," John shouted. "And I will tell you everything if you just come with me."

"Why would I go anywhere with you? You've betrayed everyone here, the country, me. You've lied for years about who you are. Is there anything about you that is actually you, the man you were born as?"

"My love for you. None of that was ever a lie. No matter who I am and whose skin I'm in, my love for you still exists under it all."

"I'm starting to think what Sarah said was right. Maybe she saw right through your shit."

John edged closer to the table, his eyes wide, darkening. "You'll come with me right now, whether you want to or not."

Amy tensed, feeling terror hit her in the chest. She was trapped; he had the upper hand in all ways. He knew this building back to front, had more training than she did and knew all the access codes for CCTV and secure computer rooms. "And what would you do if I say no? You won't hurt me."

John raised an eyebrow. "You're right. But I can easily hurt someone you care about. Precious Ruth or Tariq, maybe? Or perhaps a bit closer to home. I can make calls and put your family in a sticky predicament."

***

Ruth dropped Lucas' file on Harry's desk. "He can't be trusted. I know you've always thought a lot of him, but he's not Lucas North." She explained the origin of the documents in front of them both. "Enquiries show that this man is the real Lucas North; everything adds up perfectly. I found his passport data, driving licence and birth certificate. The man who we believe to be Lucas is an imposter. How this wasn't picked up, I don't know."

"Does Amy know?" Harry asked, looking up.

"I've just told her. And I'm starting to worry that he might know I've been looking into this."

"Get to Amy now," Harry instructed.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @linasofia @guardianofrivendell @msjava1972 @sketch-and-write-lover @meganlpie @lilacpulse @spidergirla5 @knitastically @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @enchantzz @medusas-hairband

Richard Armitage tag list: @cryptichobbit @eunoiaastralwings

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Two)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: Patrick has drugged you and he wants to fuck you. But he still doesn't know your little secret that you are a virgin.

CONTAINS: Arranged marriage/enemies to lovers trope, explicit sexual content, choking, dub-con touching, Patrick being a dick, drugging, toxic behavior, dirty talk.

WORDS: 3.8k

A/N: Another chapter where things get even steamier.

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

'I have to stop it...I have to...run,' echoed in your head as you shook yourself. "I...I feel so dizzy," you murmured, grabbing your head. "Was it really champagne?"

Patrick frowned. The man was used to getting what he wanted, to people not saying no. He was also confused by your reluctance. It was just sex and you acted like he was taking you to Dorsia or something. Bateman shrugged. "Well, after that we can sleep together or whatever." He said, his tone annoyed.

When you tried to get up, he put his hand on your shoulder and pulled you back to the bed, making you sit down with him. Patrick knew that the ecstasy would soon cloud your mind and consume you with arousal, so he didn't feel the need to try and convince you any further. "It's just champagne, sweetheart." Bateman muttered condescendingly. "Maybe you're just not used to it. Now, why don't you take those pants off?" Patrick patted your thigh, then tightened his grip on your shoulder. "You know, you should be fucking grateful that I'm wasting my energy on you at all. I know how you saw me in high school. Everyone knew."

'Highschool...what was in Highschool? I can't fucking remember.' Confused, you blinked several times. "Patrick...I..." you hiccupped and tried to close your legs. "We can't do this," your voice was on the verge of tears. "I...I'm a virgin!"

At first you couldn't believe you had said that, but when you turned to look at Patrick, you expected him to leave you alone, but instead you saw a strange glint in his eyes and that scared you even more. Shaking, you suddenly found yourself in the worst possible situation and you didn't know how to get out of it.

Cautiously, you looked back at the box of condoms. "I don't want... I don't want this."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Virgin?" A predatory grin spread across his face. He stood up slowly, ran a hand through his hair and looked towards his closet. The man knew you wouldn't be able to escape much due to your drugged state, so he felt confident enough to leave you alone for a few moments. He quickly went into his walk-in closet and meticulously looked through his collection of ties. He chose two red ones with thin black stripes and wrapped them around his hands.

Then, Bateman stormed back into the room, a sudden look of determination on his face. Smirking wolfishly, he grabbed the back of your hair in a tight fist and pulled you forward. "You should have run when you had the chance." He taunted before throwing you back onto the bed. Patrick straddled your stomach and quickly tied your hands together with one of the ties. He used the other to tie you to the bedpost. Satisfied, he sighed and pulled away, looking down. "You're lucky I don't nail your hands to the floor like I did with Janet." He said slowly, knowing that you would either forget the remark or he would just convince you that it never happened. After that, the man moved his hand down your stomach to your jeans and quickly pulled them down to your knees.

Time seemed to stop for you the moment Bateman pulled your hair and then pinned you flat on the bed. When Patrick tied your hands, you thought you were dreaming and that everything that was happening was not real.

"Patrick...Patrick...stop!" You closed your eyes and tore at the perfect white sheets as if trying to wake up. "It's wrong...it's s-so wrong!"

Your bound hands tugged effortlessly at the ropes in a feeble attempt to free yourself, but the moment Patrick pulled your jeans all the way down, exposing your white panties, you stopped breathing. 

"My... my family would be so angry," you suddenly gasped, hallucinating. "Patrick, we can't do this..." Your mind was such a mess as childhood memories mixed with reality, making it hard to understand what was really going on.

"I don't give a fuck about your family! I hate them!" Bateman spat and put his hand over your throat, squeezing it. He felt your esophagus move against his palm and squeezed harder. Infuriated, he looked into your eyes as he did so, an unquenchable fury behind them. Then he paused for a moment, loosening his grip. The gears in his head began to turn. He was really only attacking women he didn't expect to see again... who he wanted to kill. But he... couldn't do that to you. The two of you were supposed to love each other in just a few months. That would be an impossible task if he continued with his plans. 

Patrick sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly. He slowly untied your wrists and threw the ties on the bedside table. His expression was solemn as he got off you, averting his eyes. The man frowned, he hated starting new things, he had no patience for new revelations, for events that took place beyond the realm of his immediate vision. He didn't want to get married. It was the last thing on his to-do list. But he knew it was inevitable. There was no way his anger and disgust would subside, so he would have to kill twice as much...to keep himself sane and to keep his 'future wife' safe.

"Just...forget this happened." Bateman said slowly, grabbing his robe and tying it around his waist. "Get dressed and...um...stay in bed. You're way too drunk to go to work." He then left the room to go back to his walk-in closet, leaving you alone.

A few hours later, when you opened your eyes, all you could see was darkness and there was no sound, as if you were in a vacuum. Slowly, you struggled to stand, only to fall back onto the bed—your head spinning so badly that you felt nauseous.

"W-where am I?" You mumbled, pressing a hand to your forehead.

It took you almost ten minutes to get out of bed, and only then did you realize that you were in Bateman's apartment, but you couldn't remember anything that had happened before you blacked out. Have you slept all day? 

Dazed, you sauntered into the dark living room, and as you turned on the light, you noticed a single videotape on the glass coffee table. As you approached and picked it up, you saw a sticker on it, probably in Patrick's handwriting—it simply said "Christie & Sabrina". 

Who was that?

Stunned, you took a moment to think about who those names belonged to, fighting the urge to see this tape, considering how much trouble it would get you into. But after several minutes of checking the time and calculating when Bateman might be home, you finally turned on the TV and put the tape in the VCR.

The tape showed Patrick completely naked except for a pair of sneakers. He used his hand to guide a blonde woman wearing a scarf onto the bed. He straddled the woman's back and spread her buttocks with one hand. He began to coax the other woman, a darker haired blonde wearing a tight black dress, to eat the other woman's ass. A Genesis song played in the background. A few minutes into the tape, he got the darker blonde to start dancing while he fucked the lighter blonde —sprawling her on her back as he put her legs over his shoulders. He could be seen flexing and checking himself out in the mirror as he thrust. 

"Have a good evening, Montgomery." Patrick called as he walked to his door. He was carrying a briefcase full of 'important' papers and various knives. He was wearing his pinstriped suit with a brown coat over it, a smile on his face as he waved goodbye to his neighbor. His smile faded as he turned to the door, his hand hovering over it. He could hear... familiar moans coming from the room. Angrily, the man opened the door, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw you in the living room. A flash of rage swept over him. He closed the door and walked quietly over to you before placing a hand on your shoulder. "What do you think you're doing? This is my personal tape. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to snoop around?"

The loud moaning drowned out all surrounding sounds and you had no chance to spot Bateman sneaking up behind you—your heart almost popped out of your chest when you felt his firm grip on your shoulder.

Terrified, you jerked back and fell to the floor. "You left the tape in the VCR! I just... I just turned on the TV and it started playing," you pointed at the screen. "That..."

'Why? Why him? Why did he change so much?' You tried to ignore the haunting memories of Patrick as a little boy, sometimes he was even cute, but now all you could see was the unbridled rage in his brown eyes.

"Those girls... who are they? Why did you even do that?" You asked, not caring how stupid it sounded. Crawling back, you began to sob from... jealousy? Without saying anything else, you leaned against the edge of the couch and wrapped your hands around your knees, pressing them to your chest as you finally let yourself burst into tears. "Did you fucking drug me so I would sleep all day so you could watch this fucking tape?" Your voice wavered in hysteria and you began to rock back and forth.

Puzzled, Patrick stared at you as he began to wonder if he had actually left the tape in the VCR. He remembered watching it this morning to finish himself off, but he couldn't swear that he had taken it out. He sighed softly and went to the VCR and paused the tape. The screen was stuck on a still of him pulling his dick out of the blonde prostitute. 

"They're... prostitutes." He replied stoically, his eyebrows knitted together. "I paid them to have sex with me. And I recorded it." Bateman answered as if it were normal. Well, it WAS normal for him. For his lifestyle. He watched you sob and frowned in confusion. His confusion quickly turned to anger. He couldn't stand the crying. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, keeping his eyes on your body. 

"I didn't drug you." Patrick replied quickly. "You just passed out from being drunk..." He spoke calmly and then walked over to you. He bent down and put a hand on your cheek, a warm smile on his face. "Pull yourself together... we still have a reservation for tonight." The man whispered before he stood up and went to the front door, grabbing the box that was outside the door. He was a little annoyed that you didn't wake up earlier to pick it up yourself, but he didn't say anything. Frowning, he put the box down and opened it by tearing the flaps with his hands. He pulled out a black designer dress. Quite simple. "See? Isn't that nice?"

You didn't even blink when you saw the dress—it was indeed beautiful, but instead of being grateful for such a gift, your mind was filled with images of Patrick giving such dresses to so many girls. 'I wonder if he buys them all in one place.'

"I don't feel well," and that was an absolute truth. "My head... is about to explode from the pain." A sharp pang of conscience hit you as you realized that you had missed your work and preparation for upcoming exams. "And I don't like skirts and dresses," you added, slowly getting to your feet, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. "I'm not going to wear it."

With a tired grin, you shot a challenging look at Bateman, whose jaw was visibly clenched. Though you had no intention of upsetting him, you simply didn't want to be his pet, you wanted to save your personality even if this marriage was going to happen.

Patrick's jaw clenched even more in frustration. The man approached you and pushed the dress into your hands. "You... have to wear it." He said through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "I don't like to cancel reservations... and you don't have any other clothes to wear. This isn't just some... burger joint. This is a sophisticated place with sophisticated people, and I expect you to blend in." Bateman stated, staring at you for a few seconds before pulling away. Irritated, he turned and headed for the bathroom. Shuffling could be heard inside before he returned a few moments later with a bottle of Xanax in his hand. He opened it and took one out, holding out his hand and placing it inside. 

"Here, just take this." Patrick ordered. "It will help your headache. Just drink it with a Diet Pepsi so you don't fall asleep. " He said slowly, making sure every word was heard. He wrapped an arm around the back of your head and gently pulled you forward. He wiped his thumb over your wet cheeks, the gesture comforting, but with an underlying threat. This dinner had to be perfect. Every dinner had to be perfect. He hoped you understood... or something bad might happen to you tonight. And Bateman didn't think he would be able to stop himself this time.

Though you had no trust in him or what he was doing, you had no choice, especially when the echoes of shattered memories rushed through your mind like little flashes of light—you were on the bed, tied up, and Bateman was over you, roughly choking you as you remembered that terrible feeling of suffocation.

Sighing heavily, you took the pill and strolled to the kitchen without saying a word. There you quickly found a can of Diet Pepsi and swallowed the pill in one quick gulp. Then you emotionlessly picked up the dress and disappeared behind the bathroom door. The more time passed, the more empty you felt, as if the pill had drained your personality, ripping away all the traits that made you who you were. Maybe that was exactly what Patrick wanted you to be—a blank canvas for his evil plans?

Two hours until dinner. 

You finally put on that damn dress and some makeup, your red lipstick catching Patrick's attention the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, your face looking exhausted and your eyes hazy. "What...What restaurant are we going to?" You asked, struggling to pronounce each syllable. "I feel so dizzy and... cold." With that, you strolled over to Bateman's elegant figure and wrapped your hands around him, suddenly pressing your head against his chest, completely unaware of what you were doing.

"Barcadia, it's very-" He cut himself off when he felt you wrap your arms around him. The man looked down, eyes wide, a slight smile on his face. He usually hated physical touch (unless it was sex), but this time it felt... good... which he didn't like. New feelings scared him. With visible disgust, Bateman took her shoulders and pulled her away from him. Then he led you to the couch before making you sit down. "There. I'll make you some coffee... get you some caffeine." Patrick patted you on the shoulder before walking away, nervously running a hand through his hair. He really didn't want this dinner to be like the one with Courtney—where she was so drugged out that she fell asleep on her plate. He furrowed his brow, shuddering at the memory as he brewed another pot. He returned with a mug of black coffee and placed it in your hands. "Drink it all." He ordered. "I don't want you falling asleep during dinner."

"Thank you," you replied and took the warm mug, your hands shaking slightly, but you hoped Bateman wouldn't notice. "Barcadia...Barcadia sounds nice," you added after sipping the drink. "Never been there."

To be honest, you didn't really understand the purpose of such worldly dinners. 'Why should I go? So the other girls will laugh at me for my lack of jewelry, trinkets, and stylish hair?' As you continued to drink your coffee, you tried not to look at the TV screen when you heard a loud drilling sound and then women screaming. It was frightening, you weren't going to lie.

"Listen, Patrick," you put the cup on your lap and carefully adjusted the hem of your dress. "Maybe after dinner I can stay with my family for a while?"

There was still a small hope that this marriage would not happen, you just had to convince your parents, even though your mother was a total bitch, but your father seemed to love you, not the way parents usually loved their child, but in a more twisted way. Anyway, you were willing to do anything to make them believe that Patrick Bateman was not the man he pretended to be— a cocky, successful banker from Wall Street, hell no. He was dangerous and sick, and that frightened you more than anything else in this cruel world.

Patrick kept his hands on the back of the couch, hovering over her figure. His eyes drifted down to your cleavage in the dress, but he quickly looked away. He didn't want a repeat of this morning. "Your parents?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Look, I can't let that happen. Your parents and my mother want us to get married... so that means we have to... 'bond'." He moved his fingers to mimic quotation marks. "If you want to go to your parents so badly, I'd have to come with you... and I can't take the time off work." The man said before gently running his hand through your hair, twirling a lock around his finger. "You look... amazing. You should dress like this more often..." He said slowly before walking away. Then Bateman went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, imagining a decapitated head wrapped in plastic inside. He grabbed a pint of frozen dessert. "Gelato?" He asked with a smile, suddenly acting much nicer...so you would behave today.

Bateman's sudden tenderness worried you more than it touched you, but you didn't want him to know that. "No, thank you," you replied with artificial friendliness. "My mother has diabetes, so I have to be careful with sweets, you know." Maybe that would make him try to change his mother's mind about this marriage. 'I doubt the Batemans would want an heir with diabetes.' 

"Thanks for the coffee, it was really nice." At first you put the cup on the coffee table, but then you almost jumped in your seat as if you had been hit by an electric shock, and you picked it up almost immediately and went into the kitchen, where Bateman was still standing by the refrigerator, a little shocked. "I'll clean the cup, don't worry."

How many times had you been beaten up for not simply cleaning a plate or a cup? Countless, to make a long story short. Maybe your current life was no worse than the one you had before, when you lived with your parents, but it was certainly no better, and you doubted it would be any better in the future. It felt like you were destined to suffer, and the only way to have a chance to live the life you wanted was to run away from everyone you knew.

Bateman frowned when you refused. He looked down and put it back in the fridge. Another bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. Why was he so nervous? He shook his head, ignoring the fact that your mother had diabetes. It meant nothing to him. If they had a child, God forbid, it wouldn't matter if it got diabetes. They had enough money for insulin. Besides, any child of his would still be superior to any other...no matter who the mother was. 

Patrick looked back at you, his shoulders tensing as he saw you start to put the cup down on the table. He was about to tell you to use a coaster, but before he could, you jumped up and walked into the kitchen. Patrick was surprised, a small grin playing on his lips. Maybe he finally got you. He watched you wash the dish and rubbed the back of his neck. He tried to think of something else to talk about, but only one thing came to mind. 

"Have you heard about the Zodiac Killer?" The man asked quietly, looking at you. "Serial killer from the 70's...killed five people...or 37...but the others are unconfirmed."

Bateman's question sent a shiver down her spine. "I think my dad saw a documentary about him," you stammered, picking up a kitchen towel to polish the cup. "Why?"

Thanks to the caffeine coursing through your veins, you now felt refreshed and clear-headed. Slowly, you turned to face Patrick, who was still standing by the fridge, his brown eyes gliding over your 'not-so-perfect figure', making you so embarrassed that you couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"You're interested in crime? Aren't you?" You asked without a second thought, leaning against the kitchen counter, your eyes accidentally dropping to his manhood as you noticed a visible bulge, but then quickly looked away. "I remember when we were kids, you loved to play hide and seek."

Patrick smiled and leaned confidently against the counter. "No reason... I just find it interesting... they never caught him, you know?" The man looked down at you, his eyes wandering over your curves. Normally... he didn't find such bodies attractive, but he felt a throb between his legs; his boxers felt tighter again. Bateman huffed in frustration and looked back at your face. "He could still be out there...but we wouldn't really know because he stopped writing. It's kind of... Schrodinger-esque, don't you think?" He spoke coolly.

Then he nodded. Patrick had always been interested in true crime and murder cases, but his friends never gave him the time of day. He thought for a moment, then he had an idea. He knew he couldn't try what he did this morning, but maybe he could use some... different tactics to get what he wanted. Smirking, he sighed and ran his hand along the soft fabric of his tie. "Look... Rebecca. " He looked at you with a soft expression on his face. "I'm... sorry for being erratic and... aloof." Bateman waved his hands, downplaying his behavior. "I've just been taking this new drug to help with my smoking, and it's just... it makes me irritable sometimes." He lied. "I know you don't like the situation we're in either... but I want to make you feel at home..." He spoke softly and stepped closer to you, running a finger along your jawline.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!