"đđđđż"- Platonic Yandere! Patrick Bateman x Son! reader
In which the American Psycho welcomes his offspring...
WARNINGS: Gore, murder, isolation, reader is seven, infidelity, insanity, this also makes no sense
Growing up, you were pampered by your parents, who loved you very much; you were their pride and joy.
Your Father would come home from work with your favorite kinds of toys, as your Mother would be in the kitchen preparing dinner. Youâd run up to him in awe as she would watch the scene unfold in endearment.
Perfect family, right? Anyone would say that, but the three of you were genuinely happy. No facade unlike everyone else.
Alas, it would all changeâŚ
Christmas eve had arrived, and the wife of your Fatherâs coworker was holding a party. Every man came with their wife, children perhaps, some were just alone...Â
Everyone there knew that you were the apple of Paulâs eye, and they could see why. You were an adorable child; curious, eager, kindâŚ
You were playing with the other fellow children when you sensed someoneâs gaze burning into your back. In instinct, you looked behind to see a man staring at you, no emotion evident. He seemed like one full of hollow, yet gorgeous at the same time. When he noticed you staring back, he smiled, one that never reached his eyes. It was your way of knowing if a person was truly happy or not.Â
Your little trance was interrupted once you felt your Mother frantically lift you, muttering apologies as she hurried you into the car. Your Father kept arguing that it was ridiculous to leave an event so early, how disrespectful it was. But your Mother could not care any less, for she did not say a single word. Which was ironic, seeing as though she was one to fight back.Â
Bedtime had arrived. Paul pecked you on the cheek as he tucked you in, not leaving before apologizing about his arguing with your Mother. You didnât blame him, you too were confused. Your time of bonding with the other children was ruined. And she was always the one to tell you to make friends, so this greatly upset you.
Your mind suddenly shifted towards the strange man you encountered back at the party, wondering what he could have possibly wanted. The way he gazed at you with so much intensity, yet no emotion, caused your bones to endure an unpleasant feeling.
You woke up to your parents arguing. To understand what was going on, you decided to eavesdrop, despite your Father telling you once that it was impolite. You could hear your Mother repeating an ultimatum of not attending any of his coworkerâs events again, whilst Paul talked over her in bewilderment.Â
While your parents loved one another, they often had petty arguments, which would lead to them giving the cold shoulder for days.
This time, however, you blamed your Mother. Had it not been for her odd behavior this would have never occurred in the first place. You didnât outright ignore her, but you were distant. And she knew.
It was just you and your nanny one night, for your Father was still at work, whereas your Mother was elsewhere. Your Father eventually returned, but your Mother never did. Her number was dialed multiple times, and fellow friends were questioned. But all attempts were to no avail, she was never found.
Your Father was never the same again because deep down he knew she was never going to return. Paranoia would consume him concerning your well-being, making him breathe down your neck constantly. Whenever youâd voice your frustration to your friends, theyâd say that you had it lucky, as their parents didnât do the parenting, but rather the servants. The only one who understood you was your nanny. Paul lost his wife, while you lost your Mother. Instead of providing moral support, he continuously leaned on your shoulder, only recognizing his pleas, not yours.Â
It eventually led to alcoholism and him partying often with his friends, yet he still maintained decent money, surprisingly. While he never laid his hands on you, he did tend to be aggressive. Your nanny stressed about reporting him to child protective services, but you convinced her not to. You were an endearing little boy, something you inherited from your Mother. The thought of Paul being behind bars hurt your heart.
On a particular afternoon, your Father came home with company. He called for you to greet the guest.
You ran downstairs, not wanting to agitate him. Dread filled your mind, for the strange man from the Christmas party stood. You felt his gaze, except this time the look on his face seemed genuine. However, you could still sense something odd. Wanting to keep the peace, you were granted permission to leave and retreated to your bedroom. In two hours, you could hear faint chattering and laughter as your head was pressed against your Pillow, which lulled you to sleep. As your eyelids shut close, you could feel someoneâs presence near.
To you and Paul, he was Marcus Halberstram. But behind closed doors, he was Patrick Bateman.Â
Patrick Bateman was a man, one who was almost unreal. Physically? He existed. Emotionally? Absent. He was shallow and would feel little to nothing. The only emotions that consumed him were those that were vile.Â
In a world like this, you cannot tell whether one is feigning grace or is genuine. You can surely predict. Patrick, however, realized something. Children are pure and full of innocence; they will speak what's in their heads. Which is why he was fascinated yet disgusted by them. He never thought that one of his hookups would result in his very own offspring.Â
What infuriated him was that his worst rival was raising you, whilst you grew up for the past seven years thinking that this man is your Father.
From head to toe, he was perfect, even his pretense smile would captivate others. He was beautiful on the outside, but a beast on the inside. His fellow mates werenât indifferent, they were just like him. Selfish, materialistic, pretentious, cruel⌠psychopaths. Except they didnât kill.Â
Deep down, he had a desire. A desire to maintain a meaningful relationship, to stand out the most. His life was a rather dreadful simulation: sleep, eat, work, compete, murder⌠He yearned to feel somethingâŚÂ
So when he came to know about your existence, he felt something he had never felt in a long time, he could not tell what it was. What he did know was that it brought him joy.
Perhaps the fact that he took part in creating a literal human being praised his ego.Â
He yearned for some familial warmth, and you were most likely to grant it to him.
Patrick didn't even know that he came to admire you so much, to him you were an extension of himself.
â I cannot comprehend the fact that I took part in creating an actual human being, itâs fascinatingâŚâ
He saw you as an accomplishment, a possession.Â
Something to be shown off.
Your heart beats because of himâŚ
That being said, the thought of Paul getting to raise his pure son in glee while he'd internally suffer enraged him. Oh, but it would not be like that for too long...
The feeling of your Father's hand placed on your cheek so affectionately was now a faint memory, as well as your Mother's warm smile.
Tears poured down your swollen cheeks as you silently pleaded for things to be as it once was. Promising yourself that you'd no longer blame your Mother for the fight.
You recalled the sympathetic gaze on detective Kimball's face as he informed you about your parents' whereabouts. Paul's body was found in a quite expensive overnight bag, with his head chopped. While your Mother was found buried alive.Â
A social worker, while finding you a place to stay, found out that Patrick Bateman was your Biological Father. And when he was offered custody, he gladly accepted. Almost as if he was prepared for itâŚ
That day had been so odd. His face shone from the beads of sweat glistened by the sunshine. His eyes held a glimpse of panic as he gave short answers, followed by fast breathing.
Sheâd decided to cut the meeting short due to discomfort. As long as she was paid good money, it was not her problem.
The man who had been calling you his own wasnât even your Father. Instead, it was the one whoâd scare you away.Â
You remembered one thing, people hardly had an identity of their own. Their mannerisms, hair, and style, were all very alike. Paulâs acquaintances, including himself, could almost twin one another; the arrogance in their voices, the expensive clothing, and accessories theyâd cockily flaunt, competitive auras.Â
You had realized. This was exactly why Paul and the others confused Patrick for Marcus because every single man is horrifyingly similar and one can almost not tell the difference.Â
Nonetheless, he was delighted to have you in his care. Heâd done so much just so you could be with him.
The moment he held you in his arms, his heart bruised and spiraled out of control.Â
His Fiance, Evelyn Richards, bitched about having to deal with a child who was not hers, especially one out of wedlock.Â
But what importance did she hold? The man was happy to have a living part of him around. So he ended things with her, after a fuss, that is.Â
Just by looking at you, his madness began. You were his precious baby boy⌠and you rightfully belonged to him.Â
No matter how many tears you shed, you had a new life now. Accepting it would make it easier, rather than missing what you thought was yours.Â
People would question your existence, but Patrick would always shrug it off.
He was the kind of Father that would give his child the world with his money.
You enquired him about going to school. But he fought against it, he knew of the monsters that laid underneath oneâs charming charisma.Â
You were quite intelligent for your own age, which he never failed to show offâŚÂ
âI KILLED PAUL ALLEN WITH AN AX IN THE FACE- HIS BODY IS DISSOLVING IN A BATHTUB IN HELLâS KITCHEN. I STABBED BELINDA ALLEN AND THEN I- FUCK! I BURIED HER SIX FEET UNDER AHAHA! BECAUSE THEY BOTH TOOK MY SON FROM ME- MY- SON! ⌠When-when I first found out about him, he was- I donât know- two or three years old⌠Belinda was married to Paul and slept with me, IT WAS A MOMENT OF NAKED BODIES AS WELL AS NAKED MINDS! I FELT SOMETHING WITH HER HOWARD- I DONâT KNOW WHAT- SHE WOULDNâT LET ME HAVE CUSTODY OF MY OWN SON- NOT EVEN TELL HIM WHO I WAS- FUCK! HEâS MINE HOWARD- TELL THE FUCKING JUDGE HEâS MINE!â
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