Hello and welcome! I'm a lady with strange fixations and write about ‘em sometimes. I mostly do little drabbles and headcanons but might do small one shots here and there. I may write/reblog 18+ content. So minors DNI!
Characters I write for
- Eric Draven (The Crow 1994)
- Eddie Brock/Venom (Venom 2018)
- Morbius (Comics 1971- Present/Film 2022)
- Bruce Wayne (The Batman 2022)
- Tobey!Peter Parker (Spiderman 2002)
- Bucky Barnes (Marvel 2014)
- Jake Park (Dead by Daylight)
- Billy Loomis (Scream 1996)
- Stu Macher (Scream 1996)
- Sidney Prescott (Scream 1996)
- Jacob Black (Twilight 2008)
- Emmet Cullen (Twilight 2008)
- Edward Cullen (Twilight 2008)
- Carlisle Culle (Twilight 2008)
- Bo Sinclair (House Of Wax 2005)
- Lester Sinclair (House Of Wax 2005)
- Vincent Sinclair (House Of Wax 2005)
- Jesse Cromeans aka Chromeskull (Laid To Rest 2009)
Hey all, I got the random urge to write something again. I always associate American Psycho with the holidays due to the implied cold weather in the movie and that one christmas party scene. Anyways, here's a bit of an angst one. This involes a reader who is in a coma after a car accident. Hope yall enjoy and happy holidays!
Patrick Bateman X Fem!Reader.
"Before you, I was not a man. I was a silhouette cut from a luxury magazine advertisement. I occupied space. I consumed goods. I executed transactions. But there was no one inside the suit. If you had cut me open back then, you wouldn't have found a heart or a soul. You would have found only a void, echoing with the sound of my own boredom."
"I lived in a world of static. Every interaction was a script I had memorized but didn't understand. I smiled because it was required. I laughed because the algorithm of social interaction dictated a laugh was appropriate. But behind the eyes, I was screaming. I was constantly, violently screaming, just to see if the noise would make me feel something. Anything."
"People were not people to me, (Y/N). They were obstacles. They were props. They were meat. I looked at a face and saw only flaws—pores, asymmetries, weaknesses to be exploited. Something to cut open and carve and play with. I looked at the world and saw only things I wanted to destroy because they were imperfect, and their imperfection offended the silence I was trying to curate."
"I was a ghost haunting a penthouse. I was a plague of greed and disgust wearing a mask of sanity. I was drowning in the shallow end of existence, terrified that the water would never get deep."
"Then you sat next to me."
"You didn't ask for anything. You didn't try to impress me with a business card or a dinner reservation. You simply... existed. You were quiet. And for the first time in thirty-eight years, the screaming in my head stopped."
"I realized then that I had been waiting my entire life to be haunted by you."
The only sound in the private ICU suite is the rhythmic, hydraulic hiss-click of the ventilator and the low hum of the HEPA filter Patrick had installed the day you arrived. It is 3:14 AM.
Patrick sits in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. He has draped his cashmere overcoat over the back to soften the harsh lines. He holds his phone in one hand and your limp, pale hand in the other. He is scrolling through a digital archive of New York restaurant reviews, cross-referencing them with the times he had gone with you to these places. All the restaurants you had tried together in your 2 years of marriage.
He clears his throat softly. He begins to read aloud, his voice low, steady, and devoid of the frantic energy that usually defines him. To anyone else, he is reading restaurant reviews. To you, he is praying.
"Remember Le Bernardin, (Y/N)? October 14th. You wore the silk slip dress in gunmetal grey. The lighting in the main dining room was... adequate, though I still maintain the acoustics are too bright for intimate conversation.
"Here is what the Times critic wrote: 'The poached halibut is a study in restraint, bordering on austerity. It lacks the daring of the chef’s earlier work.'"
Patrick scoffs, a sharp, dismissive sound in the quiet room.
"Idiot. Absolute philistine. You said the halibut was 'gentle.' You said it tasted like comfort. You closed your eyes when you ate it. I watched you. I watched your pulse visible in your neck. You said, 'Patrick, stop analyzing the broth and just taste it.'
"I tried. I couldn't taste it then. But I remember looking at you and thinking that the fish was irrelevant. The way you held the fork—your grip is always so light, no tension—that was the only perfect thing in the room. The critic gave it three stars. I give it four. Only because you were there."
He squeezes your hand. There is no response. He swallows hard, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and scrolls to the next entry.
"And the little Italian place in the West Village. The one with the exposed brick and the waitstaff who don't know the difference between sparkling and still. I hated it. I wanted to leave immediately. The ambient noise was seventy-five decibels. A chaotic environment."
He leans closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"The review here says: 'Charming, rustic, but the pasta is over-sauced and heavy.'
"You loved it. You ordered the carbonara. It was heavy. It was chemically disastrous—too much cream, not enough egg yolk. But you... you laughed. You got a spot of sauce on your chin. Just a tiny white dot.
"Old Patrick would have handed you a napkin immediately. He would have been disgusted. But I... I didn't say anything. I just watched you wipe it away and smile at me. You said, 'This is better than the Michelin star place, isn't it?'
"I lied and said yes. But looking back... I guess you were right... I felt this unfamiliar...warmth in that cramped, loud booth than at Per Se. Because you were happy. You were vibrating with it."
Patrick stops. He looks at the tube taped to your mouth. He hates the tape. It’s asymmetrical. He fights the urge to fix it.
"I need you to tell me, (Y/N). I’m reading a review for that new Omakase bar on 53rd. They fly the fish in from Tokyo daily. The rice vinegar is aged ten years. It opens next week. It requires a reservation made three months in advance."
He tightens his grip on your hand, desperate for a twitch, a signal, anything.
"I made the reservation, (Y/N). For two. Next Friday at 8:00 PM. I threatened the maître d’s career to get the table.
"If you are not awake, I will have to cancel. And you know I hate cancellations. They act as a mark on my reputation. They imply a lack of control."
"So you need to wake up. You need to tell me if the uni is actually sweet or if the critics are lying again. I can’t trust their palate. I only trust yours. You are the control group. You are the standard."
He rests his forehead gently on the back of your hand. His voice breaks, the clinical mask slipping completely.
"The world is just noise without you, (Y/N). It’s just... static. I can't filter it alone. Please. Come back and tell me what things taste like again."
Can you write a lestat x reader where he notices he's in love with reader?
The low hum of the city barely registered for Lestat as he watched you laugh. It was a bright, unrestrained sound that cut through the usual melancholic symphony of his existence. You were both in his penthouse overlooking the sprawl of the grungy city, a city he'd haunted for centuries, yet tonight, it felt different. Lighter.
You had been in his life for nearly six years – a blink in his endless lifespan, yet a significant stretch for a mortal. Initially, you were simply… fascinating. A vibrant splash of color in his existence of eternal dark and death. You possessed a fierce curiosity about the world, a sharp wit that could parry his most cynical remarks, and an unexpected empathy that saw past his carefully constructed arrogance. He’d enjoyed your company, the way your mortal, vibrant energy thrummed around him, a stark contrast to the stagnant stillness of his own being. You asked insightful questions about history, about art, about the very nature of existence, never flinching at his veiled allusions to his true nature. He found himself looking forward to your conversations, your shared evenings filled with music, and your surprisingly astute observations.
He’d told himself it was a diversion, a way to stave off the ennui that perpetually threatened to engulf him. Humans were fleeting, like the candles he burned during his long nights. He’d seen countless lives begin and end, felt the sting of loss enough times to build walls around his ancient heart. You were just another flame, he’d reasoned, destined to fade
But lately… lately, the thought of that fading brought a new kind of ache, a hollow resonance he hadn't felt in centuries. It started subtly. A flicker of protectiveness when a careless driver nearly clipped you on a sidewalk. A surge of something akin to jealousy when you spoke animatedly of a friend. He found himself memorizing the way the lamplight caught your eyes, so full of life and potential, the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you read, the soft curve of your smile when he told a particularly wicked anecdote.
Tonight, as you recounted a funny mishap at the bookstore, your eyes sparkling with amusement, something shifted within him. It wasn’t just the amusement reflected in your gaze that held him captive. It was the warmth that radiated from your very being, the genuine joy that seemed to illuminate the very air around him. He saw not just a fleeting human life, but a vibrant soul, a unique constellation of thoughts and feelings that had somehow, inexplicably, become precious to him.
A pang, sharp and unfamiliar, pierced through the layers of his undead existence. It felt… vulnerable. Terrifying. He, Lestat de Lioncourt, the self-proclaimed immortal rock star, the creature of the night who fed on the living, was feeling something akin to… need. Not the physical hunger, the familiar craving for blood, but a deeper, more profound yearning for your presence, for your laughter, for the simple act of being near him.
He observed you, saw you more than just another pulse for him to extinguish, and saw not a temporary companion but a person whose spirit had somehow intertwined with his own. He saw the quiet strength beneath your gentle demeanor, the unwavering kindness you extended to the world, the fierce intelligence that challenged his own. And in that moment, surrounded by the glittering lights of the city, a terrifying realization dawned within him.
He wasn't just amused. He wasn't just… interested.
He was falling. Falling for a mortal soul, a creature of sunlight and fleeting breath. A creature who, against all logic and all his carefully constructed defenses, had somehow managed to chip away at the cold, unyielding stone that had become his heart. The eternity that stretched before him suddenly felt both infinitely precious and terrifyingly fragile, all because of the being laughing beside him.
For the first time in centuries, Lestat de Lioncourt didn't know what to do.
I mean this is genuinely I think it’s so funny that the only dbd character you write for is Jake. Literally I have so much respect for that just take one bitch from that’s your guy now
LMAOOO thank you so much for this anon. Made my day LOL. Yes Jake is best boy and who I main. Since day one BABEY 😤😤
Nobody asked for this but I recently rewatched Prisoners! Such a really cool film that doesn't hold your hand <3 I fell in love with Detective Loki all over again 😭 he's such a cool character because hes really up for interpretation! Def check it out if ya aint seen it already!
(as always, not my gif!)
SFW Dating David Loki headcanons!!
Oh boy, being with this man will be pretty rocky and take a lot of communication and patience tbh. He'll often be absent, late for dates, or have to reschedule them due to his demanding job as a detective.
I'd say David doesn't really have the time to create many deep relationships, mostly fleeting ones. A few one night stands here and there, but a rare occurrence none the less. He's not too into flings but he's a rather lonely person and still a man with needs if ya know what I mean 👀
But! Back to his absentness, let's say you're someone who's stuck around for awhile and understand his life style and him as a person more or less. He never enjoys cancelling on you or not being able to spend time with you. You're very important to him but he's also got a important job to do.
It'll stress him out a bit, he's a bit of a perfectionist and a pretty empathetic person in general. He'll try his damn best to make time for you since he does really appreciate you putting up with him and being one of the very few people he can be himself and relax around. Definitely feels like he doesn't deserve you, or just got really lucky. 💖
David's not picky with dates and definitely won't mind if its just you picking out places that you enjoy. He'll like doing whatever if its with you.
I'd say one of his favorite activities to do with you is travel if you're into such a thing. He likes exploring and learning new things about people and the world, especially the more positive aspects since he mostly sees the ugly side of humanity at work.
Another one would be going to see a movie or going to your home and cooking a meal for him whilst you listen to music or what have you. It's very comforting to him and relaxes him. Being with you and being close to you really is a nice get away from the harsh world out there, that waits for him every day. He also doesn't really cook for himself too often or has time to enjoy home cooked meals. He always loves your meals even if you're not the most fancy cook.
He'll sometimes try to repay the favor, he can be a pretty decent cook when he really tries.
He'll be very grateful if you're particularly understanding of his chaotic schedule and the strain it puts him through. He'll often try to hide how much a case is wearing him out of effecting him, wanting to for your sake.
That stress tic he has will often give it away though.
He'll be very soft with you and even a little dorky at times. David enjoys making you laugh with his dry/sarcastic humor. Seeing you smile or hearing your laugh is one of the highlights of his day.
So expect phone calls from him while hes at work pretty often. He likes to keep in contact with you to try and make up for when he's not there.
But there will be times where he won't call at all due to a particularly difficult or tasking case. He'll make it up to you though.
He always tries to make it up to you.
I'd say his love languages are mostly acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch.
The detective himself isn't a very clingy person but if you are, he'll very much enjoy it actually. He didn't have the best childhood nor youth and it may take a bit to break his walls down, but once he lets you in he'll take all that you'd want to give him.
For him I'd say he likes to hold you a lot. He's a very protective guy and it relaxes him to always have you in his arms, knowing you're there and that you're safe.
David's pretty flexible though. If you enjoy certain other things more he'll definitely take note of it. He's a very perceptive guy, being a detective and all.
Like say if you enjoy receiving gifts he'll enjoy getting you the things that you like. He wants you to know that he really does love you even if he can't be by your side all the time, so he'll often express that with his actions.
Now David is a very intelligent and logical guy, but also has a lot of internal fears that he tries to hide.
So when it comes to jealousy, I'd say he'd only get a little jealous if someone was able to offer you more than he could in the stability department. It's really one of his biggest regrets that he can't be there for you more often than he'd like to.
David likes to protect and to provide, so if another person appears that you begin to become good friends with and are able to spend more time with than him, he'll start to get afraid that you'll tire of him not being around and prefer the person who can be around more.
He trusts you, and doesn't blame you- he just doesn't want to lose you. I feel you'd either notice something was up and ask him about it, or he'd eventually wisen up and awkwardly bring it up.
I feel he'd just need some reassurance and he'd realise that he was being silly, then apologise to you; also probably asking how he can make it up to you as usual. 💕
David has a great ability at remaining calm and rational, and when it comes to you, even more so. I don't ever really see him raising his voice at you, even if/when you yell during arguments and fights.
He'd try his best to diffuse whatever was going on and be understanding. Or just wait until you let it all out and give you your space before coming back to talk to you more.
Depending on how bad the fight is, and he's the angry one, David would probably need some space as well. Probably go on a drive. It helps him think and calm down.
All in all, it'll be turbulent and may take time to get close to him depending on how you are, but once he's in- he's all in.
Loyal, dependable when it matters, understanding, paitent, and a great romantic partner.
