#patrick mckenna x reader

[thornsinmycrown]

PRAYING HANDS

YANDERE!PATRICK MCKENNA x READER

warnings: [ MDNI +18 ] religious themes, yandere themes, stalking, obsession, constantly fantasizing about kidnapping (father mckenna). word count: 639

summary: you're in his mind, day and night, like a holy prayer.

Every day, he watches you pray from afar, how you come and go seldomly like the tiny flowers that grow outside the window of his room on spring, floating around the cathedral the same way the wind carries a lonely dry leaf that falls from a tree, he can't help but stutter a bit every time he looks your way when giving the sermon.

He can't decipher your glances, yours seem magnetic to him, like a deer's peering his lashes tenderly to tempt him, and the temperature of the room changes to a cozy hell whenever you close your eyes and fold your hands in front of you to pray, they look delicate — oh so soft.

Everything of you looks so soft for him to grasp, from the shiny threads that form your hair and frame your face, to the texture of your skin shimmering with the painted glass of the windows, the gracefulness in which your lips move to mumble the morning prayers and how your hands trace across your body the holy cross, he swears he can see the halo in your head once you walk in, but then why —oh God, why?— does he feel that churning inside when he sees you?

If your angelic presence's holiness is not questioned, why does he feel like he is comforted by the vision of the sweetest of all angels in hell?

Are his eyes sinning every time they admire you? Is it unholy to hold his breath when he passes so tortuously behind you through the aisles when the church closes its doors? Why are his thoughts so insistent on betraying his faith?

He can't find his resolve any sooner.

You're a God's creature and he is a servant of God, isn't it his duty to unconditionally love his every creation?

He knows he is in the wrong longing everything of you, he is aware he shouldn't be so eager to send all to the damn just to meet a caress in his cheek of the softness of your praying hands, within his soul he knows these are not God trials, these are the Devil's work to lure him. He knew well Satan was once an angel and so were you — then why couldn't he deny you?

You weren't more than a human, but that didn't make you any less than an enchantress. He imagines you in inappropriate scenarios, eyes rolled back and knuckles turning white, writhing and yearning, flesh to flesh flushed hellfire red late at night. He was never a romantic, and would never be, nevertheless, would whisper all of this nonsense like a chant into the void of his room make you come to him?

Patrick is not dumb, he can see the clear confusion in your face, your sweet features wonder what invade his mind while looking at you, and he wishes you could understand he only wants the best for you, that the pureness of his intentions should not be questioned — and how much he wants to keep you.

He grows white roses in his room, thinking they would give a bit of life to it, making it more appealing for you, he even got blankets with the colorful tones of the clothes he has seen you wear to make it seem comfortable. He hopes you like them so you can stay with him, Patrick dreams of the day when you can finally become a part of him, when you'll arrive to stay at his humble whereabouts and stay forever, he wouldn't mind if you want to or not, he would be glad to make you stay.

He prays with you in mind, prays and prays for God to let him see you again with desperation, on his knees in his praying sessions begging to his holy father to give you to him.

Author's note: I was watching angels & demons the other day and remembered Father McKenna exists so, this is a bit more of a drabble than anything else, I don't think I will do a follow-up of it unless it is well received or I get more inspiration to do another different reader.

[edgessunflower]

Ooh may I please request a cute romantic fic of Patrick McKenna and fem!Reader getting married around Easter?

Yaaaay first one to celebrate!

A wedding and Easter sunday

Pairing: Patrick Mckenna x Fem reader

Description: The two of you get married the week before Easter and have a wedding party on Sunday dinner

You and Patrick met years ago when you were 20 and he was 22 on a camping trip near his church summer camp he volunteered at as a youth pastor. The two of you became fast friends always bringing him lunch or leftovers from the dinner you and your friends had whenever he would come see and hang out with you and your friends on his breaks or when everyone else was asleep and he didn't need to do anything always enjoying the fun with you and your friends as well as funny stories. The two of you began dating 2 months later which was the happiest and greatest thing to ever happen to the both of you getting engaged 5 years later and after a long while of planning you decided to have your wedding the week before Easter everyone in both your families being very happy for the two of you waiting for the last few days before the wedding date to come. You had your wedding at a beautiful outdoor venue next door to your childhood home having dinner and the after party at the house being the best day and night of both your lives dancing in the living room of the house and going back to the house the two of you shared completely in awe and disbelief that you were finally married to each other. Both your families came over to your home for Easter sunday dinner happy the the two of you got married and were happy with each other watching as you shared small moments throughout dinner until hours later they all left leaving the two of you to shower and change in pajamas laying in bed watching tv until you both fell asleep in each other's arms already happy for the future together.

[crystaldoesmeth]

i read this religiously like the bible everyday guys. this is THE Patrick I know.

All the roses go to hell

Trigger Warning: yandere, obsession, quoting the bible, fanaticism, angst

Word Count: 2709

Character: patrick mckenna/reader

Summary: As in water face reflects face, so the heart of man reflects the man. Patrick has lived his entire sinful life in holiness, slowly climbing the career ladder in the Vatican with his head, and realizing in his heart, believed in his holiness, believed that he was going to become the second Messiah, walk down Via Dolorosa and carry the cross; mom always said that God had big plans for him. A plan was maturing in Patrick’s head, and he almost carried it out until he was prevented — by you and his feelings.

The windows of the room in which he waited tremulously were closed, but the air remained cold and unfamiliar, warning of something insidious. He was waiting for her to appear — counting the minutes, seconds. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven, Patrick was taught patience. By endurance will gain lives. He glanced at the clock hanging over the door, listened to its knocking, which sounded like nails being driven into the palms of his hands and sighed tremulously. His lips were invisibly muttering prayers, and his hands were clasped in a lock.

He prayed for her, for his beloved, and before closed eyes he saw her image, her holy image. Patrick was ready to take her to heaven, to preach faith in her to the world, because she was perfect; like Mary, she would follow him in any problem, go to the desert, retire, do everything! She will take her cross, follow him. He wanted to worship her, to build a temple.

His angel will have to leave soon; she arrived to the Vatican for a reason, she came with Mr. Langdon, the man who ruined all his plans. Oh, how his sacred heart burned, became sinful when Langdon intervened in the case of the murder of the Pope and began to spread scientific ideas in the temple. He began to desecrate the place of holiness and faith with false words about science and critical thinking. People are not obliged to believe scientists, they are obliged to obey the will of God.

She was a part of CERN, a doctor of sciences. And Patrick hated scientists.

Even as a child, Patrick realized that he was His son, that he was destined for something more. He had to fulfil all righteousness, become a symbol of light, the Messiah! for humanity. He will go through all the trials, his Passion of Jesus has already begun; any minute now she will come, the one whose love he has carried for a long time, like a cross and no one helped him. This room is his Golgotha, not overgrown with rose bushes; here his end will come and he will ascend to Him with her, leaving a mortal body.

She didn’t believe in the Lord. Her faith was weak, she said that she would never change her decision; it was her conscious choice based on evidence and facts. But Patrick knew that Langdon had brainwashed her, knew that this professor had participated in the rejection of her faith. Your faith has made you well — that’s what Patrick told her when they were alone, they had to find the prints of art in crimes and stories. He also told her that the eyes of the Lord are in every place, observing the evil and the good. But she, his sweet angel, just rolled her eyes and answered something coldly, preferring silence. In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin, so Patrick only sat down next to her with a kind patronizing smile, watched her graceful actions.

Their first meeting took place on the day when Langdon needed him — he asked for access to the archive, and she was at one with him. He called them for a private conversation, closed the shutters and asked a simple question: «Do you believe in God?» Langdon’s answer defiled his heart and harnessed his mind to act more decisively. He did not believe in the Lord, did not follow the word of God, why did people trust him? Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. In Patrick’s ideal world, anyone who defies the will of God will be punished.

She didn’t say anything, but then, before leaving, said:

“You know, Padre, when I was a child, my parents took me to church. I liked listening to the psalms,” and smiled. At that moment, Patrick understood the whole point of things: she is his Mary; she is a sinner, but he will forgive her for all her sins.

A day ago, Patrick gave her a cross. With a gentle, reverent smile, he shyly looked at her and held out a silver cross that meant the whole world to him. It was worn by his mother, the Mother of God, who so diligently protects her son from any influences of his peers. She was perfect, unattainable, and if Patrick had had the right, he would have taken her to Heaven; he was sure that she was waiting for him and his angel, his beloved. Mom had beautiful eyes, kind, she said that God had big plans for him. She said that when he was baptized,the heavens were opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form, like a dove.

Mom didn’t hug him, she said that love can only be for the Lord, but is it right or wrong to kiss mom? For Patrick, there was love for the Heavenly Father, for God, and he considered other feelings to be instincts that make people look like animals; they ceased to be like Lord.

When Patrick was little, the sun was brighter, and Mom was the strongest in the world, he watched her. Watched her behavior, posture and appearance the same way watched beloved. Patrick saw the sanctity of his mother, with a gasp and tickling in his stomach, he imagined that nameless force flowing in her and given to him.

Patrick was praying for his mother. Patrick prayed for beloved, taken away by Langdon. She accepted his gift, looked away and nodded, but he felt her awkwardness and was angry with the professor. If there was one person to whom Patrick did not treat favorably, besides father, it was Robert Langdon. He had haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among Catholic brothers. Langdon walks like a devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

The doors creaked open and rapid but careful footsteps were heard. It was her. Patrick was waiting for her appearance more than anything in the world. He hid the cross, proclaiming «amen» and turned to her in fright. She was tense, looking at him with confusion and a kind of anger, angry and determined. Patrick looked at her, tried to control his voice and thoughts, worried when answering and lost. He had never experienced feelings like this for people before; he always treated everyone with a protective love, the way the Lord treats his creatures.

Hands were shaking — was it cold or tremor? Was it reality or a dream?

She talked about the church, she talked about his decisions and Silvano’s diaries, but he could enjoy her, understood that very soon they would be waiting for the Empyrean. Patrick will teach her faith, and she will follow him. He is the Son of God, he will preach the faith all over the world! and hug his angel, stroke the hidden hair.

“He urged to notify everyone about the discovery. It could become a scientific proof of the existence of God! This could put an end to the enmity of religion and science! Why did you do that?”

“His discovery is not pleasing to God, it is blasphemous! Is it really not clear?”

She stumbled, as if accepting his words, as Patrick continued to advance. He was pleading, saying in his head like a crazy, fanatic: she will change her mind, refuse, need to become her teacher, her Rabbi! He will help her cope: her chest will be filled with faith and she will place all her hopes only on Him and the Lord. Patrick will not be able to find a single psalm, not a single verse to show her. But now she is like a black rose piercing his heart with thorns, and he is like a defenseless insect caught in the net of a formidable flower.

All roses go to Hell, but Patrick will help her gain immortality.

Her smell charmed him — she smelled of books, smelled of shampoo; as a child, mother said that there was nothing more beautiful than incense, soldiers did not talk about such topics, blamed and laughed at him. Mom also said, taught that it is always worth staying open before God and not hiding secrets, evil intentions. Every time entrance to the nave, he walked straight and, falling on his knees, prayed; Patrick talked to the Lord, spent the whole night in prayer and turning to God. Only the Almighty could understand him, His son.

In the light of the fire, her face turned red, transformed, and only half was visible. In addition to the fireplace, there were lighted candles on the candelabra in the room. It was dark outside the window, and Saturday was coming. The uncontrollable sun was setting, humbly lowered its rays in front of the sister Moon and allowed the night to rule. The stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale. The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up. Patrick did not like nights, did not like to hide sins, and it was this part of the day that was famous for debauchery and vices.

“Cardinals are adherents of the faith. Believing in the existence of evil, they fused. And all Catholics will soon rally in the face of this threat,” he spoke clearly, was not afraid and approached his angel, who was looking at him in confusion. Patrick looked meekly at her neck and did not find the cross; he pressed his lips together. She said that she would not take it off, that she would wear it in honor of the first scientific case! in honor of… in honor of Him!

“Which is not! That sounds… It sounds like nonsense!” She threw up her hands and her eyebrows jumped. There was a glimmer of hope in eyes; the hope that Patrick would understand and accept everything, confess to the crime, and they would leave. But Patrick was not a fool, he did not listen to his angel and looked at her in incomprehension. He was silent, and his beloved was silent, until he frowned and suddenly broke the silence:

“Where is your cross?”

“W-what? What cross?”

“The one that I gave you,” Patrick confidently approached her until his angel retreated and rested back against a stone wall. She grabbed sleeves, touched them, and looked anywhere but at him. Patrick kept saying something, he couldn’t believe that she, his Maria! — this is how relates to divine things. The cross he gave her was worn by His mother, His holy mother! “You said you’d wear it. Said! As a memory, only for the sake of our successes! Good luck in finding Pope’s killer!”

“Mr. McKenna, Padre,” catching his burning gaze, she stumbled, “Patrick, I’ll wear it tomorrow, you know how I feel about this theory. I promise you, I’ll put it on right before departure…”

Her speeches — and her voice, the owner of which could be either a succubus or an angel, — were interrupted by a crash: Patrick clung tightly to the cross, falling to his knees; the cassock now touched the floor and collected dust, his fingers turned white, and his lips involuntarily and incredibly quickly whispered something — there were prayers, psalms or poems, it is impossible to understand. Patrick was licking his lips, his jaw was shaking, and his eyes were tightly closed. Images of his beloved flashed through his head, His divine image seemed to him; Patrick seemed to be himself, but not in a typical cassock, but in a prayer chiton that his mother knitted for him as a child, and leather sandals.

“O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up, you discern my thoughts from afar,” the words jumped one after another, got confused. Patrick was breathing loudly, quickly, and shudderingly; his brown hair was disheveled and fell over his face. “I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come. I have been forgotten like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel. O God, you know my folly; the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you. Preserve my life, for I am godly; save your servant, who trusts in you — you are my God,” he said everything in different order, madly shaking his head and squeezing his shoulders.

Patrick looked sharply at the frightened lover, looking for a way out of a desperate situation and yes! it was about her that He was talking! «Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared», — it was his angel that was being talked about, his Mary, his beloved. She will save him with her love, and he will save her with his faith! Vows and dogmas no longer choked, did not constrict the throat, the garrotte was lowered, and he could breathe calmly. The cardinals were wrong, the interpreters and teachers were wrong, only He knew the truth: Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.

He grabbed her cold hands — the wounds on his palms were treacherously sore, the stigmata inflicted during the night reminded him of themselves; for Patrick carried for bear on body the marks of Jesus — and bowed his head, touching her tender hands with his forehead. But after that, remaining on his knees and soiling his cassock, Patrick looked at her tenderly, with the purest kindness and love. Love is only such as the Lord treats his children with.

“My dear, purest angel, I ask you to understand me, to become a part of me,” Patrick saw his beloved looking around, wants to scream and regrets that does not have a weapon with her. “I am in awe of you, I kneel. My heart flutters at the sight of you. You are my Maria, I promise to help you gain knowledge,” he kissed her hands. “I am His Son, the Son of God, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”

Belly treacherously ill, burdened the heaviness below. Patrick did not take his eyes off the frightened beloved — what was she afraid of? his words? faith? — but He knew He would help her. She walked in the dark, did not know where to go, wandered in fragments of the past, but He will be able to help her find faith, knowledge and love. And this is love, that walk according to his commandments; this is the commandment, just ashave heard from the beginning, so that should walk in it.

A mad silence, deafening silence enveloped the room. Patrick looked at beloved with fascination, looked into her eyes, but did not find love, humility, only fear in them. She was a sinner, but she will love the Truth, love the Lord, and wash her crimes with tears. Her sins, which are many, are forgiven — for she loved much. But He who is forgiven little, loves little. He felt nose begin to sting and His eyes to water when He recalled her false purpose — in moments of lull in the conversation, His angel loved to joke, to talk about some inconsistencies that she found in the Scriptures. At her conjectures, Patrick only grinned and shook head; how much carelessness there was in her words.

“…It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me,” Patrick broke the silence and kissed His beloved’s hands while she began to mumble incoherently. Her words flew past ears. How delightful and divine she was! could only be compared to His Father! He will not repeat His father’s mistake, because His father is not the Pope, His Father is He, the Lord, because Patrick is the Son of God. So Patrick humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Ubi caritas et amor

Deus ibi est

in fact, i have always been amazed by how people write about patrick here on tumblr, completely missing his character: presenting him either too soft and gentle, or else rewriting the canon where he is innocent. that is what i’m talking about - patrick is crazy, he’s a fanatic, especially if you judge by his motives (what’s in the movie, what’s in the book). so i present my version, i hope you will like it and the character of patrick has remained canonical. (but don’t really like what i’ve written, and i’ll try better next time). 

thank for three hundred subscribers!

[yandereunsolved]

🔪 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 🔪

“Normal people scare me.” – Tate Langdon

“Oh honey, goddesses don’t speak in whispers—they scream.” – The Countess

“When bad things keep happening to good people, you start to question what is right and what is wrong.” – Jimmy Darling

— 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 —

Austin Sommers

Asylum

Cordelia Goode

Dandy Mott

Freakshow

Hotel (S5)

James Patrick March

Jimmy Darling

Kai Anderson

Kit Walker

Kyle Spencer

Misty Day

Mr. Gallant

Murder House

Sally McKenna (Hypodermic Sally)

Sister Mary Eunice

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

Winter Anderson

— 𝙰𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠/ 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎 —

Yandere Austin Sommers

Yandere James Patrick March

Yandere Jimmy Darling

Yandere Kai Anderson

Yandere Kit Walker

Yandere Kyle Spencer

Yandere Sally Mckenna

Yandere Tate Langdon

Yandere Violet Harmon

— 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 —

Yandere James Patrick March (old style of writing)

Yandere Tate Langdon (old style of writing)

Clip A Hummingbird's Wings - ,, James's s/o trying to escape

Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader

F.I.T — Fucking In The Afterlife - ,, yandere ghost Kai Anderson

Fool Me Once - ,, you being James successor

Macabre Monster - ,, yandere pre & post death Kyle Spencer

Roses are Red; Violets are Blue - ,, yandere pre death Tate

Sweet Tea & Stalking - ,, yandere Jimmy Darling with a famous reader

The Honey In My Honeycomb - ,, yandere Kit Walker pre and post Asylum

When You Fell From Heaven - ,, yandere JPM with an angel reader

Yandere Kai Anderson w/ a psychologist reader ⋆

You're My Cult Leader - ,, yandere Kai Anderson

— 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 —

God's Design 𖹭 (yandere female nun reader × Kit Walker)

In Death & Life 𖹭 (James Patrick March x fallen angel gender neutral reader)

One false promise leads to another 𖹭 (yandere Kai Anderson × feminine aligned reader)

⋆ unpolished: not a full set of headcanons (still spellchecked)

[briaroftheroses]

Request Rules

I’m finally getting around to writing out my request rules! If you would like to request a fic, hc set, drabble, etc. please read over these rules before submitting. Please also check this post regularly as I will add things as I go.

Things I Will Write For

Fem/GN reader, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, dark themes/fics, praise, degradation, use of strap ons, p in v, creampies, throat fucking, both m and f receiving oral, multiple characters in one fic, choking, impact play, dacryphilia, pain play, bondage (nothing with legs specifically being restrained though), blood play (mostly only for AHS fics), d/s dynamics, BDSM, dub-con/non-con, piss, boot play/worship - feel free to ask about kinks not listed here because there is no way i named them all

Things I Will Not Write For

Male reader, character x character with no reader, beastiality, pedophilia, scat, underage characters (except platonically), gore and non-canon character death (except for in the case of things like murder house and hotel in which they would become a ghost), real-life people (such as actors), even though I might write for dom reader please do not request it.

If there’s anything not mentioned here, feel free to ask before making a request.

Specify the general length of the fic you want.

Please keep in mind that requests can take a while and I may switch between writing them and my own personal projects.

Keep in mind that if you’re vague with the description then I am less likely to write what you imagine and it will take me longer.

When asking about unlisted characters, please include the type of fic you would like to request with them.

Characters I Write For

Evan Peters

Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Austin Sommers (please no spoilers in the requests for any characters after Hotel), Peter Maximoff, Warren Lipka, Luke Cooper - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

AHS

Vivien Harmon, Violet Harmon (platonically), Billie Dean Howard, Alma Walker, Lana Winters, Sister Mary Eunice McKee, Zoe Benson, Marie Laveau, Madison Montgomery (depending on the request), Cordelia Foxx/Goode, Misty Day, Fiona Goode, young!Fiona Goode, Amazon Eve, Desiree Dupree, Edward Mordrake, Dandy Mott, The Countess, Sally McKenna, Ramona Royale, Winter Anderson (please no spoilers in the requests for any characters after Hotel) - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

Matthew Gray Gubler

Spencer Reid, Chip Taylor, Thorn (King Knight), Raymond (Suburban Gothic), Wes (Dollface), Paul ((500) Days of Summer) - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

Criminal Minds

Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Cat Adams, Megan Kane - feel free to ask about any others that aren’t here

WWE

Rhea Ripley, Dominik Mysterio, TJD (only if including Rhea), Liv Morgan, Becky Lynch

this list will be updated regularly as i watch more shows/movies/seasons of ahs, so feel free to check regularly :) also feel free to ask about characters not listed, but there is no guarantee i will write for them.

[kitkatpadywaks]

My Wips, Works & In-Betweens

Organised by Series/Love Interest (Warning: There's A Lot - 55 & counting)

Key: 💥Currently Writing - 💭Planning/Outlining - 🧠Was Writing, Doing Extra Planning - 💤I'll Get To It

TVDU:

💥Seven Days - Klaus Mikaelson x Lucy Danica(OC)

💤Sweet, But Psycho - Elijah Mikaelson x Aspen Blake(OC)

Erik Lehnsherr:

💭Goddess - Erik Lehnsherr x Cassandra Narvaes(OC)

Quinlan:

🧠The Thing In Her Mind - Quinlan x Amara McKenna(OC)

💤Destinies - The Thing In Her Mind AU - Quinlan x Amara Romano(OC)

💭Guardian Angel - Quinlan x Damaris(OC)

💭Follow The Ravens - Quinlan x Kira Michaels

💤The Stranger - Quinlan x The Stranger(OC/Reader)

💤The Siren - Quinlan x Alessandra(OC)

💤Dark Curiosities - Quinlan x Ness(OC)

💤To Love A Beast - Quinlan x (Unnamed)(OC)

Morpheus/Dream:

💤To Love An Endless - Morpheus/Dream x Mika(OC)

💤Forgotten Lives - Morpheus/Dream x Aurora Dunham(OC)

🧠La Mechancete De La Vie - Morpheus/Dream x Life(OC/Reader)

Lord Of The Rings:

💤Deadly Instinct - Legolas x Medea Darkmoor(OC)

💭Through The Stars & Sea - Thorin Oakenshield x Valencia Sitara(OC)

Prince Caspian:

💭Worlds Away - Prince Caspian x Mira Williams(OC)

Twilight:

💤The Elders - Jasper Hale x Corvina(OC)

💭The Monster Within - Carlisle Cullen x Raven Marwood(OC)

(Untitled) - Paul Lahote x (Unnamed OC)

Oberyn Martell:

🧠The Creed - Oberyn Martell x Ayanna(OC/Reader)

💤(Untitled) - Oberyn Martell x (OC)

Rick Flag

💭Angel - Rick Flag x Lenore 'Leo' Accetta(OC)

Rio/Christopher

💤(Untitled) - Rio/Christopher x (Unnamed OC)

Bucky Barnes

💤(Untitled) - Bucky Barnes x (Unnamed Stark!OC)

Leonard 'Bones' McCoy

💭Legends - Leonard 'Bones' McCoy x Captain Reagan Jenkins(OC)

The War Against God:

Multiple Names, Same OC

🧠Dancing With The Devil - Klaus Mikaelson x Celeste Gilbert(OC)

🧠Devil May Care - Spike x Celine Astor(OC)

🧠In Another Universe - Morpheus x OC(Won't name here cause spoilers)

💤The Offer - Rick Flag x OC(Won't name here cause spoilers)

💤(Untitled) - Thorin Oakenshield x OC(Won't name here cause spoilers)

💤(Untitled) - Quinlan x OC(Won't name here cause spoilers)

The Quinn Chronicles:

Quinn Darnell(OC)

💭More Than Meets The Eye I, II, III - The Doctor x OC x River Song

💥Aliens Of The Earth - DI Joseph Chandler x OC

💭New God Rising - Quinlan x OC

💭The Aftermath of Wanderlust - Captain Hilary Becker x (OC)

💤Child of Eternity - Legolas x OC x River Song

💤Amongst The Stars - Leonard 'Bones' McCoy x OC

💭Memories - Short Story - Klaus Mikaelson

Family of Shadows:

Nyx Brennan-Itzal(OC)

💭Light In The Dark - Rick Flag x OC

💭Creatures of Shadow - Adrian Chase/Vigilante x OC

🧠Into The Darkness - Morpheus/Dream x OC

The Original Ripper:

Astraea Mikaelson(OC)

💭Stranger In The Dark - Quinlan x OC

💭The Survivors - Erik Lehnsherr x OC

💤Dreams of the Past - Morpheus/Dream x OC

💤A Hybrid's Tale - Legolas x OC

💤Tender Hearts - Carlisle Cullen x OC

The Reaper:

Nya(OC)

💭Il Mietitore - Rio/Christopher x OC

💤(Unnamed) - Luke Alvez x OC

A Walk With Wolves:

Aurora Hale(OC)

💤They Walk Among Us - Luke Alvez x OC

💤Claws & Crossbows - Daryl Dixon x OC

💤Trauma Bonded - Joel Miller x OC

💤To Be Seen - Patrick Jane x OC

💤To Be Wanted - Marcus Pike x OC

TBN

Arabella Winchester(OC)

💤A Deal With Death- Quinlan x OC

💤 The Occult - Dr Lance Sweets x (OC)

💤 What We Deserve - Paul Lahote x (OC)

💤(Untitled) - James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x (OC)

💭Hell Or High Water - Gadreel x (OC)

[parvulous-writings]

Would it be a Sin? // Patrick McKenna x Fem!Reader

Request:   Hello. 💐 I'll fully disclose that I've returned with a purely a self-indulgent oneshot request. I read your Patrick McKenna NSFW alphabet the other day and I just...*sigh* So so so good!I'd love if you could write a oneshot based on the letter D, "dirty secret." Patrick wearing the clerical collar makes me feel all sorts of feelings (🥵), so I'd love to see you delve more into this and satiate our unholy desires! Feel free to make it as smutty as you wish!xoxo,polishksiezniczka ❤

Requested by: @polishksiezniczka​

Summary: A oneshot based on my NSFW alphabet for Father McKenna, focusing particularly on the letters ‘D’ and ‘W’ (Dirty secret and wildcard)

Warnings: NSFW content ahead, reader discretion is advised. Breaking of vows of chastity/celibacy.

Words: 1.6K

Notes: This is my first time writing a full smut oneshot, so, please bear with me as I get used to displaying how I write such intimacy- especially with a wider/larger audience. Just writing a fem oneshot, since this is what I am most familiar with- though if anyone wants a masc oneshot, I can do that! 

Not my gif

There had always been something.. Oddly erotic about Father McKenna’s clerical clothing. It wasn’t something you brought up to him, not ever, but you vaguely acknowledged it in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if he was aware of it, he usually blanked desires and temptations of the carnal variety. It was habit for him, something he did without thinking. Sometimes this was very much a perk for him; able to go great lengths without feeling desire towards another. Other times, it was not so much, he becomes blind to your advances, no matter how obvious or explicit they may be.  In particular, you liked his collar. The sense of power behind it’s meaning, the supposed purity that came with it. You knew all too well that McKenna’s vows of chastity and celibacy had long since been broken, but the facade of a virgin man that he still kept up to this day amongst others of his creed was something you admired, and almost yearned to an extent. Most days you could hide the way it made you feel, the things it did to you. Today was not one of those days. 

You were sat down in Patrick’s office, as per the norm. You often found yourself in here, sat in the same old chair, one leg folded over the other to try and alleviate the aching need at the apex of your thighs, such was the case today. Patrick was stood by his window- you referred it to his window simply because he was the only person to spend so much time next to that specific window. Sure, it was his office, but priests and cardinals were often in and out of the room, and none of them spent as much time next to that window. They were usually seated, like you were now.  You are drawn from your thoughts when Patrick clears his throat to grab your attention. You look at him, rather blankly, and he sighs. “I asked you if you were alright.” He said to you, and you nodded hurriedly.  “Yes, yes, fine...” You feebly attempt to assure him, shuffling in your seat. He notices this slightly odd behaviour quite quickly. He glances down at your legs, giving a soft chuckle, for once catching on to your predicament rather quickly.  “I think you’re a little more than just alright, aren’t you?” He teased lightly as he strode across the room, towards his bookcase. Your eyes trailed over his clothed body as he moved, and though you couldn’t actually see or make out any proper detail on his body, your mind was rampant with imaginings of it. He stayed at his bookcase for a brief moment, before looking over his shoulder at you. “You know... I think I know what can be done to help you...” He chuckled, an almost wicked grin starting to spread over his face. 

You feel heat settle in the pit of your belly at the expression, and he moves back to his desk, placing his hands on the surface as he looks you over. He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, “Uncross your legs, beloved.” He chuckled quietly, glancing down at your knees as he spoke. You cautiously do as he asks,keeping your hands on your needs.  “Good girl.” He praises in that low, silky tone that only seems to make an appearance when in the bedroom. You give a slight sheepish smile as he stands up straight again, perching himself on the top of the desk, looking down at you. “Now... What to do... You need assistance, clearly..” He chuckled again, folding his arms over his chest as he pondered over what to do, how to treat this... sin. That’s when an idea struck him. “On your knees, over there.” He commanded, gesturing over to the carpet in the middle of the room. You glance to him as you get to your feet, moving quickly to where he had pointed. You sink to your knees, looking expectantly to him as he still leant against his desk. “Recite three Hail Marys.” He nods to you, and you bow your head in response, mumbling the prayer before he interrupts you. “Louder. I want to hear you.” He’s smirking as he speaks- you could just hear it in the glee in his voice. You clear your throat, starting to speak again.  “Hail Mary, full of Grace, The Lord is with thee.” You start the prayer, and Patrick mouths along with you, starting to move around the room till he stood behind you. “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” You can feel his presence a pace or so behind you, but you don’t dare to raise your head just yet. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.” You shuffle a little bit as you continue, the feeling of carnal desire returning to settle in your core. You hesitate to continue with your first repetition of the prayer, and Patrick leans down to speak in your ear.  “Finish the prayer, darling.” The way he emphasises the pet name makes you shiver and your mind to go blank. “Would you like me to help you with it?” He teased, and you couldn’t help but nod. He kneels down behind you, his mouth still close to your ear as he finished the prayer, your voice echoing his. “ Glory Be to the Father..” He was speaking slowly, allowing you to speak along with him. "And to the Son... and to the Holy Spirit.” By the end of the prayer, his lips are trailing over the skin of your jaw, ghosting over the most sensitive areas, lighting your skin on fire in the wake of those truly sinful lips. 

You started to lean back into the affection he was partially giving to you, but he stops you before you can get too comfortable. “Ah-ah. You still have two Hail Marys, do you not?” He pointed out, and you gave a quiet groan of frustration. You no longer wished to complete his given task, you didn’t even think you could do so- your mind kept going completely blank every time you felt his breath against the side of your face, and the skin of your neck. At your lack of response, Patrick hums softly, burying his face into the side of your neck and pressing a few featherlight kisses there. “You need to answer me, dearest.”  “I can’t.” You whine, almost breathlessly. It was the truth, at least. You feel the vibration of his laugh against your neck, and you head falls back at the sensation. “Patrick... Please...” You whisper to him, and he pauses momentarily.  “Alright, alright...” He soothes you quietly, before pulling away briefly, moving towards the windows and drawing the drapes to overlap, blocking out the light and the rest of the world. He turns back to you, pulling the clerical collar from it’s place. He places the garment on his desk, moving back to you, crouching in front of you, and placing his fingers beneath your chin, lifting your head slightly so that you looked up at him. He presses his lips to your own, surging forward with a fire that you two shared only occasionally, in the heat of the moment. You both shuffle a little bit, your lips separating intermittently as you move onto your back, him looming over you, supported by his arms as his lips spread kiss after kiss over your cheeks, down your jaw to your neck.  You wrap your arms around him, drawing his body closer to your own, your hands snaking up into his hair, gently pulling on it. At this action, Patrick nipped a little harder at your skin, drawing a quiet mewl from your lips. 

There is more, almost awkward shuffling, as your clothes and garments were hurriedly shoved and pushed aside, though most of this was a blur to the pair of you, spurred on by the need to feel each other in the throes of passion. His lips were on yours, and yours on his, showing one another the passion you were often unable to through speech alone. It was bliss in it’s purest form; even Patrick could not deny it. The power you had over one another was unparalleled- though there were no thoughts, only the pursuit of pleasure in both of your actions. Your hands clasp at each other, bringing your closer and closer to one another, and closer to coital release.  The heavy sound of yours and Patrick’s pants and gasps are the one of the only sounds in the room- the other being the gentle slap of skin on skin. As Patrick’s grunts grow slightly louder and his hips snapped into yours, you know he is growing close to his release. He buries his face into your skin to muffle his moans as his hips stuttered and eventually, spilling into you with a final groan and a sigh. With a final few quasi-thrusts, you snap around him, giving a loud whine and clutching him close for a moment longer. 

After a few quiet moments, Patrick pulls himself away from you, readjusting himself quickly. He looked down at you, almost proud of his work, of disheveling you in such a way. He put his hand to your cheek before brushing your hair off of your forehead, though it stuck to your skin due to a sheen of sweat on your brow. “Now... Let’s see to getting you cleaned up. That helped, did it not?” He mused quietly, and you nod as he helps you redress- you leave the Vatican together, and early, so the pair of you could get cleaned up properly. 

[russian-soft-bitch]

Patrick Mckenna x reader

[polishksiezniczka]

Hello ❤

I have a request if I may. I sensed some tension between Richter and Il Camerlengo in the movie and it inspired me.

Like what if Richter had a daughter raised in Vatican City, and Patrick falls in love with her? The conflict he'd feel as a priest, and the sneaking around trying to avoid her father, the cardinals, swiss guard - even the pope himself?

Thanks Boo🙂

C x

Enjoy, my lovely! 😏❤️ And more importantly, have the happiest, most wonderful birthday ever!

Forbidden {Part 1} | Patrick McKenna x Richter Daughter!Reader (NSFW)

Dedicated to the sweet @caitie-lu ! 🌸

Notes: Did I include an Obi-Wan reference in this? You better believe I did! Part 2 is in the works, enjoy this shameless teasing for now! 1.2K words.

You walked briskly through the corridors, your feet unconsciously leading you where you meant to go—you had been there before oh so many times. Your eyes flashed, cautious and attentive, to ensure no familiar faces noticed you as you glided past. It wasn’t exactly easy to blend in when your father was Commander of the Swiss Guard—having been raised in and around the sacred basilica, you were known to many of the Vatican’s cardinals and priests, but you doubted they knew anything about you besides the pretty face they saw in Mass. Though you fervently denied it, your natural beauty was unmistakable: soft, mournful eyes; delicate cheeks which flushed at the slightest compliment; a supple, feminine figure; and a sincere and charming laugh that captivated anyone who heard it. Beneath your lovely exterior, you were a sensible woman who kept her wits about her and guarded her feelings closely. Your father had taught you this; he was very protective of you—his only daughter—and did his best to shield you from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

Gehen Sie keine unnötigen Risiken ein. Wir möchten ihnen kein zusätzliches Material zur Verfügung stellen, he would say to you in that stern voice of his. And you had obliged…until now.

Over the past year, everything had changed when you secretly began seeing someone. Normally, a daughter would be hesitant to disclose the details of her partner—let alone the nature of their relationship—with her father. This would be understandable for a conventional relationship. But yours wasn’t a conventional relationship in the slightest. Instead, you had skillfully woven a web of deception to conceal your affair, not because you worried about your father’s choosy but well-meaning critiques of your partner, nor his instinctive protectiveness—no. You hid your affair because your lover was none other than il camerlengo to His Holiness: Father Patrick McKenna.

But oh, how happy you were. You loved Patrick deeply, as he did you. Not only was he the singularly most handsome man you had ever known, but Father Patrick McKenna truly embodied the good of the Church when you were together: his selfless devotion to you, the compassion and gentleness he radiated, his generous heart and delightful sense of humor. What began as longing glances and shared smiles soon bloomed into affection—soft touches and whispered secrets. Then, for the very first time, he kissed you, sending your heart careening into the stars, never wanting to return to Earth, as he called you his angelo, a gift sent from Heaven to love and cherish his poor, wretched soul.

Needless to say, you had become very attached to him, and this attachment was the reason you now approached the large, polished door marking the entrance to the camerlengo’s private suite.

You slipped the key into the lock, silently entering the apartment. You brushed your hair from your face as you locked the door behind you with a soft click. A sense of calm washed over you then despite your heart’s quickened beating in anticipation to see him again, to feel him again.

You found him in the living room reading on the couch. He had forgone his cassock today, instead donning a pair of dark slacks and a black sweater. His clerical collar peaked from beneath the soft material, elegantly gracing his throat and making you sigh. How handsome he was.

“Hello there.” The sound of Patrick’s voice—soft and deferential, low and warm—had a way of stirring deep feelings of love within you. Despite your immense familiarity with it—the rich yet gentle timbre, the alluring accent of his native Ulster, that adorable little stutter—it turned you to putty, your infatuation running wild like a schoolgirl’s.

Patrick smiled, a hint of mischief twinkling in his eyes as he admired you from his spot.“To what do I owe the pleas—”

But before he could ask his question, you nearly bounded across the room, causing him to stand up to meet you as you practically jumped into his arms. His tone held an air concern as he tried again: “Love—mmm.” You kissed him thoroughly, immediately cutting off whatever he had meant to say.

“Love…darling…” he managed to breathe between your relentless kisses, “I-is…ever-everything…o-okay?” His voice was strained, an intoxicating mix of confusion and excitement.

A smirk curled upon your lips as you continued to caress him, your arms around his neck as you softly tugged at his hair. Knowing that you were the one responsible for riling him up so quickly into this pathetic state—breathing raggedly and rambling incoherently—it pleased you immensely, to say the least.

“Yes…” you whispered huskily in his ear before moving to lightly suck just below the lobe. You pushed him gently onto the couch, climbing atop him eagerly as his one hand found purchase at your waist, the other snaking up your back to hold you even closer. If Patrick didn’t understand the motivations behind your unannounced visit, he did now.

You wiggled your hips against him achingly, causing him to groan loudly into your shoulder. “Sweet girl, the things that y-you do to me!”

You smiled wickedly at him, your eyebrows quirking in delight before you buried your face in the crook of his neck, kissing and sucking at the soft skin there, drowning in the essence that was Patrick. You smiled at the feeling of his fingers tangling in your hair and pulling gently at the roots, his large hands delicately cradling your head. You were careful with your attentions, making sure not to leave any marks behind that wouldn’t be covered by his cassock. You trailed your way up to behind his ear and peppered dozens of soft kisses, knowing how sensitive he was in this spot.

“You taste like sin, Patrick…” you drew out, deliberately hanging onto the word.

He grunted, hips involuntarily thrusting up to meet yours, causing you to bite down on his shoulder as you trailed your lips down to his chest. You nuzzled the soft hair there with your nose, humming sweetly, his curls tickling your face as you continued your onslaught of kisses and caresses.

At that moment, Patrick pulled you up for air before immediately capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands cradling your face. “Y/N,” he breathed between kisses, “A-angelo, light o-of my life.”

“Hmmm…?” you responded distractedly, now noticing the bulge beginning to form beneath you.

“Must…stop…now…” he panted.

You apparently didn’t like his response, as you kissed him with even greater intensity than before, your hand sliding between your bodies to ghost over his length and eliciting another delicious moan from his lips.

“N-o…” you whined, beginning to palm him lightly through his clothes. You weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“You’re going to be the death of me, amore mio,” he grunted, his hand snaking down your body to capture yours. Thinking ahead, you used your free hand to stroke him even more boldly, nearly knocking the wind out of him. As he gasped at the sensation, you greedily took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth.

“Mi arrendo…” ¤

Translations

Gehen Sie keine unnötigen Risiken ein. Wir möchten ihnen kein zusätzliches Material zur Verfügung stellen = “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. We don’t want to provide them with any additional material.”

angelo = “angel”

Amore mio = “My love”

Mi arrendo = “I surrender”

Taglist

@seraferna @lemairepstuff

[edgessunflower]

Patrick Mckenna Masterlist

A wedding and Easter sunday

[kneamet]

Can you maybe write some more for patrick mckenna and roman sionis ? Like anything you want:)

I really can't find much fics that stay true to cannon patrick and there is not much for roman either

crown of thorns

Trigger Warning: angst, obsession, drabble, fanaticism, quoting the bible

Word Count: 644

Character: patrick mckenna/reader

crown of thorns

It had been raining continuously on the tiles and plank roofs for several hours — the Vatican was rarely shrouded in smoke, fog, and even more so a slushy downpour. The always clear sun hid behind the menacing clouds that descended over the houses. Patrick, every time flinching at a lightning strike or the sound of a thunderstorm, as if driving nails, looked out the window, hesitantly averted his gaze. His white-knuckled fingers were clutching his mother's cross, his head was bent down; he was talking to God, revealing his whole essence and intentions.

His secrets are sealed in an envelope that will open only at ascension. To touch the miracle, people will run to him, they will mock him, and he will watch the crying women and fall. Very soon the chosen one will appear to amuse the audience; many tears will be shed on Via Dolorosa and Patrick will step on them without shedding his own. His naked body, charred hands will carry the miraculous cross.

An impatient doorbell rang, repeated several quick times and interrupted the calm silence of a modest one-room apartment. Patrick was alarmed, alerted, his hands tensed. He was leaving the table, touching the towel, and now a couple of minutes later she was sitting in front of him — a cute, drenched angel, lost in her own desires, not knowing who to believe in and who to believe in.

He did not drive out the one who came to him. She was sitting in front of him on the bed, in wet clothes and bare legs, looking around — noticed three apples on the kitchen table, pomegranate, bread. Patrick was leaning towards her, kneeling, whispering something softly. Your sneakers were left near the front door, your socks were wet. With a towel wet from the water that Patrick used to wipe your feet,  carefully washed each finger. He was silent, but his stomach was still burdened with an unpleasant feeling - would it really end so quickly? His death, which ended with ulcers on his body, holes in his palms, will come on Friday. His soul will ascend to his Father, Patrick is worried about this, and he will take his darling from the very hell; she will wait for him in the cold and eternity.

At her blows, he turned his left cheek, listening again and again to the scientific ideas spread by Langdon. The sinful heart of Patrick knew about the evil intentions spread by the professor, the defiler of the church. His angel listened to him, and he, like the devil, brought doubts into her soul, corrupted her. She was reserved, beautiful — dove’s eyes her, hair is like a flock of goats, going down from Mount Gilead, lips are like a strand of scarlet, and her mouth is lovely.

He traded an olive branch for a crown of thorns. The light of the last bulb went out in the languor of self-immolation, Patrick learned to live in fear all his childhood; he ate ashes like bread and dissolved drinking with tears. He had a zealous love for his angel with the appearance of a malicious succubus, and love covers a multitude of sin. Memories of the oak grove, clothes created by his mother, flashed through his thoughts; a twelve-year-old boy appeared in Patrick's dreams, training adults.

He looked into her eyes — doubts swarmed in her like bacteria. In the legs there is no truth and very soon she would betray him; the devil would strike her like David Goliath. Patrick, like the Lamb of God, will endure all trials.

Patrick's dreams were to become the Messiah, but the spirit of the morning star was reflected in him. He broke the grail, throne of thorns and a cradle of bones have been waiting for Patrick for a long time.

Tomorrow the beloved traitor will reward him with a kiss.

the drabble is completely based on the moment in which jesus washed the feet of his disciples (here patrick appears as сhrist, and the reader is judas), and it was very interesting for me to write it. @moonchild-cupcake i hope you liked it and patrick's character was like in the canon! but if not, then i can write something else for you.

i think that the rest of the works on patrick will be about the same; to be honest, bible stories fit very well on him and i don't understand when people don't use it. like, damn, you watched a movie about a fanatic, why don't you take religious stories?

:_) in general, yes, something like that. the next job, most likely, will be a work on mark renton and no longer in the form of a drabble.

[darling-i-read-it]

possibly a 27. with Patrick Mckenna? i’ve been reading your writing prompts all night and let me say *chefs kiss*

27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Also thank you! I’m glad you like them ❤️

Patrick was always stressed out about something. He tried to pretend that he was at peace but it was a pretty usual occurrence that he wasn’t. Which is how you knew that whatever papers he was looking at now stressed him out. You didn’t even know what they were about but you could make an educated guess.

You leaned against the side of the desk, looking down at him. He looked up at you and away from the papers.

“Can I help you?” he asked innocently. You shrugged, sliding closer to him so that you were leaning against his chair and the desk as well. 

“Whatcha doin?” You and Patrick had to stay a secret. You could never really think about seeing him at the church or in public but at his home it was okay which is where you were now.

“Looking over some papers.” 

“What are they about?” you asked sneakily, sliding onto his lap. He couldn’t help but smile gently and he contemplated telling you but decided he should, for comedic reasons.

“The Chasity of a nun. Signing off on some things,” he said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Good for her.” You kissed him, you couldn’t help it and he kissed you back happily. You squirmed in his lap and he cupped the back of your head. 

“I have to do this,” he said sheepishly. You nodded but kissed him again anyway.

“Course. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

He kissed you anyway. 

[whirlybirbs]

birbs i want u to know that i got curious about angels and demons and now im a half an hour in and im having a crisis over clerical collar ewan mcgregor God im just so,.,.,.,, weak

He doesn’t wear the collar anymore.

Maybe it’s blasphemous to admit, after spending years of his life devoted to the cross, but he can’t help but feel a sense of unweighted freedom without the flash of white across his throat.

It’s lovely and terrifying all at once.

Much like the other changes in his life — you, namely, being the biggest one. Having another soul by his side... one that doesn’t come at the beckoned knee within a pew? One that doesn’t stain his tongue with holy writ and shepard the word of the Lord into the chambers of his heart?

It’s lovely. Terrifying and lovely.

He’d never realized how much of himself he’d surrendered when he’d been ordained. Patrick Mckenna had handed over his life, estatically, to church — and now, with the blinders stripped from his eyes and the truth laid out before him, he’s never been happier to be away from those gilded holy alters and owlish eyes of saintly figures crucified.

Patrick supposes he has the Illuminati to thank for something. For exposing the war within the church, for opening his eyes, for prompting his resignation and hiring at Harvard University alongside Professor Langdon. He has the Illuminati to thank for you, as well, as you sit across from him in the dimly lit café and huff over with a turning of papers.

When you look up, he’s smiling.

“Something on my face?”

“No, no,” he mumbles, shaking his head and reaching for his tea — no milk, one sugar, “Just thinking.”

You raise a brow, smile threatening to commandeer your expression. “About?”

“You,” a shrug, “The church. God. How nice it is not having to wear that damn collar anymore.”

He buries his excitement in a sip of tea and watches as you bloom like a rose in the light of his affection. It’s lovely, how you coax a warmth in his chest. It creeps out and weaves itself into his thoughts. All consuming and lovely.

Lovely, yet terrifying.

[miseries-mistress]

i have an issue with some of yall ewan mcgregor girlies who write fanfiction. like I'll watch the most jaw dropping, toe curling, back arching ewan mcgregor character in a movie and then move immediately to tumblr to find some fics of this delicious character and there's NOTHING.

like where are yall for Perry MacKendrick (Our Kind of Traitor)??? his hair? magnificent. his personality? jaw dropping. but there is absolutely nothing about him. i mean he is a fucking professor for gods sake.

and don't get me started on curt wild (velvet goldmine). there are only a couple of fics, which is better then nothing, but i am a slut for him. his entire being? panty dropper. his hair? ethereal. his personality? i would eat him up like its my last meal. like you guys are slacking on ewan mcgregors characters

every time i finish another movie i go to @kneamet to see if they have anything on ewans character from the movie i just watched, (it's sad ik)

this is shameful and i demand more fics of ewan mcgregors less popular characters

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

Hotel Masterlist (AHS)

James Patrick March - Coming Soon

Sally McKenna - Coming Soon

Liz Taylor - Coming Soon

Will Drake - Coming Soon

Donovan - Coming Soon

John Lowe - Coming Soon

The Countess (Elizabeth) - Coming Soom

Tristan Duffy - Coming Soon

[getlostsquidward]

no body, no crime

Sally McKenna x fem!reader

A/N: Based on the prompt date idea: bury the corpses of people your s/o killed together. I just twisted it a bit. Title from another Taylor song lmao

Warnings: blood, murder

Summary: The basement of Hotel Cortez was the dumping site of corpses. There should be a pile of bodies welcoming Sally’s sight, only to find it empty.

Another day, another body was dumped in the secret basement of the Cortez. Normally, Liz and Iris would be the ones to toss the dead people in the dark, mostly victims of the bloodthirsty residents of the hotel; but Sally had gone bored of ripping mattresses apart and keeping her victim inside. There was one time, after chucking a body, the frizzy-haired woman mounted herself in the little space and slipped her body downwards, like a kid in the playground slides.

Instead of little kids cheering for her when she’d gone down, it would be silence and a pile of corpses that would welcome her. The room reeks of rotten bodies and cigarette smoke, as Sally would often find solace in this rather twisted paradise. It was ironic that she would seek the company of dead people than the alive ones. The living ones would only leave her, bring her sadness more than she already feels, but the dead won’t leave her alone. As if they can.

Sally had gone back to the room through the vent again to come back for her latest victim who she hadn’t killed yet but decided to throw amongst the dead for the satisfaction of seeing the man’s remaining resolve crumble down with the sight of his company.

To her absolute surprise, he wasn’t there. Nor the rest of the bodies.

She frantically search the hallways, went back to her room to see if the man had gone there, only to find it empty. Then she rode the elevator, hoping to see him in the bar or at the lobby. He couldn’t have escaped that quickly, can he?

She found no one, save for Liz at the bar and Iris at the reception. Sally had asked both if they saw them. They didn’t.

She sat at the stool at the bar, her head resting on her hand. Liz gave her the usual and a cigarette stick. Sally had started rambling about how she found the basement empty and how she fucked up by not killing the man.

Liz only half-listened to the woman but she had an idea of where they had gone. Of who collected the bodies, but she didn’t speak.

Finishing her drink, the ghost went back to her room and plopped down the bed. She didn’t think that she would feel exhaustion even she’s dead.

Five minutes into slipping out of her headspace, she was startled by the scream coming from the vents. Certain that it was her victim, she scurried to the source of the voice.

Sally was momentarily blinded when she arrived in the room. What the hell? This place was as dark as the basement save for the neon signages on the walls but now the curtains were fully opened and the sunlight completely illuminates the room. Once she regained her sight she saw the corpses in different positions, and someone in the middle of the room… painting?

She didn’t reveal her presence yet, observing the way the stranger holds the paintbrush and waves her hand like a conductor in a symphony. She stood there for a while, stuck in a trance. The ghost had forgotten why she went there in the first place until her victim cried again. He was weak, limp body trying to crawl out of the room.

She watched as the painter huffed and sat to match their eye line. “Can you please go back to your spot? You’re dying, right? Why don’t you sit back there and wait peacefully for your death?”

He didn’t pay attention to her and continued to crawl, but stopped when he caught sight of Sally. Another sob escapes from his mouth, a cry of hopelessness. There was no way he would get out of the Cortez alive.

A smug grin was plastered on Sally's face as she feels the gratification pooling in the depths of her. No, the look on the man’s face right now was so much better than she imagined.

“Okay sweetheart, time’s up-” The woman stood up and turned, and was startled by Sally’s presence. Once she regained her composure, she reverted her attention to the man on the floor. She flipped the man’s body with ease so he was facing her.

“Consider this your lucky day, sweetheart,” she whispered with a honeyed voice, a finger trailing the man’s cheek. “You’re my 100th kill.”

She then slit the man’s throat by the sharp edge of her gloves, like the one the Countess uses. The woman had collected some blood, but instead of drinking it, she placed it in a small jar.

“I don’t consume blood. I mix them with my paint, in case you’re wondering,” she mused, the words directed to Sally.

Once she was done, she placed the materials back on her table and took off the gloves. She straightened out her dress and approached Sally, a hand outstretched.

“Hope you enjoyed the show. What’s your name?”

“Sally,” the ghost answered, eyes glassy and curious as to who this woman was. She’d never seen her before.

“Sally. I’m Y/N. Let me buy you a drink.”

-

You went to the bar and hugged Liz, you haven’t seen the woman for a while. Well, you haven’t let yourself be seen for a while, rather enjoying the isolation. Liz gave you and Sally a drink and excused herself.

“You’re not like them? That only means you’re a ghost too.”

“Yes, well, my sister tried to infect me but I refused. It would be hypocritical of me to say this but I’m not really fond of killing people,” you said as you stood up and went behind the bar to search for that can of beer you missed. “That’s why I just take your trash.”

Sally only chuckled about how your eyes sparked otherwise when you killed the man earlier. “Why are you here?”

“You mean how did I die?”

Sally lit your cigarette for you, and you took a puff before continuing. “James.”

Her eyebrows raised, stupefied. She didn’t speak so you let on, “I knew something that I shouldn’t have and if I relayed that information to the Countess she would leave, well, kill him. So he killed me first.”

You’d accounted how you didn’t reveal yourself at first, still overwhelmed that you were trapped in the place as the same man who killed you. When you heard that James was dead too, that’s when you showed up.

The information that you would tell your sister, how James had Valentino and his wife locked away in the same place, forbidding them to meet with the Countess and running away was in the back of your mind now, letting her find out for herself. She couldn’t possibly harm James after all. Her hatred towards him will only grow.

Babysitting your nephew Bartholomew, and sometimes the other kids were how you let time pass. Your first kill was a man who was lurking the hallways he shouldn’t be in. It was exhilarating, watching him die. The look on their faces when they realize there’s nowhere to go, that they were about to take their last breath. It’s making you feel things but limited yourself from harming just anyone. You’d rather let the bloodthirsty and other ghosts do the dirty work for you. Though sometimes you miss the tingle killing people gives you so you do it yourself, and that’s why even though you were here for a long time now, you consider a hundred a small number compared to the killings of the older residents of the Cortez made.

Sally held up her glass and clinked it with yours. “Not all can appreciate this lovely darkness. Here’s to your 100th kill.”

“Here’s to my new friend,” shooting her a wink.

“Cheers.”

“So you going back to your cave now?” your newfound friend asked, lighting another cigarette. There was a hint of sadness in her raspy voice. She was hoping you wouldn’t hide again.

“No. I found something more interesting now,” you downed the last of your drink, leaning your arms against the counter to inch closer to Sally.

Your noses were touching, and you ghost your lips against hers. “Bring another unlucky human to your room tomorrow night. I want to watch how you kill them.”

Pulling away before Sally captures your lips, you leaned towards her ear and breathed, “It’s a date.”