#'Oh Good Lord She's Fucking CATHOLIC?'

[kraviolis]

Belos: I’m going to raise Luz as my daughter and ensure that she remains pure and loyal to me.

Also Belos: I’m going to let the 7-years-old clone of my brother take care of her I’m sure he’ll be able to do that.

you joke but thats LITERALLY his entire thought process at first. he's so isolated and arrogant that he couldnt possibly comprehend the idea that luz wouldnt see him as her father despite the fact he literally told hunter he was going to be her older brother and never once encouraged hunter to see him as anything but an uncle.

i attribute this to the fact that philip is an orphan who only ever knew his blood brother as his only caretaker, so he sorta took having a brother for granted and didn't realize that was something you could want rather than something that just Is.

(also caleb was the only person philip ever truly knew + loved and even well into his 300s he never once picked up a child psychology book and realized that Perhaps His Worldview Was Skewed Because Of That.)

he literally like. could not comprehend the idea that you could even choose your own family outside of like. being adopted by someone. thats the other thing with him being so annoyingly christian in this AU, he was taught that your blood family (esp yr parents) is always the most important thing in your life & you should always be grateful to them no matter what.

(this is another factor into why he keeps making grimwalkers. in his own twisted viewpoint, it's him giving caleb another chance. and another. and another-- at least in this specific characterization of him.)

philip thought that him adopting luz would mean she would immediately be eternally grateful to him and call him father and the whole nine yards. but he forget to actually express that expectation until it was too late (aka until he heard her call him uncle for the first time)

honestly, hes not MAD about it. he's just sorta :( about it bcus hes not actually insane and can still logically think like "she did say she had just lost her real father to an illness its perfectly reasonable for her to not want to replace him" (he doesnt think it outloud but he also enjoys living thru her vicariously

but also later on as she gets older it gets to a point where he's like "ok its been years now why isnt she trying to replace him yet" bcus he thinks its a normal + healthy part of the grieving process to replace the person you lost (figuratively or, in his case, Literally)

[thebestofoneshots]

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.1 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 8.6 k

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT, Non-apt for Christians(?). Reader is a little cynical (or maybe cynical Af). Suggestive talks, touching oneself, fingering. Reader seduces a Priest (so whatever you might expect from that), hierophiIia, corruption!kink, praise!kink (if you squint). Consent is sexy!

 Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Part 2 is out now!

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT I: Remember to keep holy the LORD’s Day

You really didn’t want to go to church. You had one hell of a week and you were incredibly tired so when you got the phone call with your grandma inviting you to go, you were about ready to say no. 

But your grandma has always been extremely catholic, and while you weren’t anymore, you hadn’t seen her in a while, and you missed her. Her being in town for your short vacation was a good enough reason to visit her more often (she was staying with your parents) and if you’d have to live through a whole hour of some boring priest talking about all the things that are wrong with society nowadays, then you would. Even if you didn’t want to.��

That didn’t stop you from being cranky over the fact that you’d have to wake up extra early to take the 40-minute ride to the church she claimed “was the best one in the city,” according to her priest back at home (of course she couldn’t just ask you to the nearest fucking church). 

Breathe, you told yourself. This is for your grandma, you repeated as you sat on the narrow seat of public transport, next to the gym bro that smelled like he could use a shower and whose massive arms would bump into you whenever the bus went through a pothole. 

When you finally reached your spot, you had to wake him up so he would move his massive legs to the side and you could fucking pass through, walking down the bus in the sea of people that for some reason had taken the same one. Once outside you took a deep breath and tried to relax again. You didn’t want to look as pissed as you felt when you finally saw your grandma. At least it was a fucking cloudy day and you wouldn’t have to deal with the sun as you walked the 4 blocks left you had until you arrived at the church. 

Who the fuck would invent a church so goddamn far from everything important? You wondered as you approached. 

Oh, you thought once you saw it. Someone who wanted a lot of space then. 

The church was massive. And while you might have been prone to exaggerate when you were pissed, you were far from exaggerating now. It was almost a small castle, maybe the largest church in the city, certainly the largest one you had seen in your life (not that you had seen a great many but certainly a few). 

On the outside, there were very many intricate details carved, a few gargoyles at the top in a very Notre Dame-esque sort of way. Except while Notre Dame ended in a very square and neat way, the towers of this one extended far above the roof and ended in a pointy, almost menacing sort of way. You had been so absorbed by the intricate details of the tower, that you didn’t realise you were walking straight into someone. 

“Uhh sorry,” you said as you stumbled back, pulling your gaze from the structure and towards the person right in front of you. You were absorbed by him the second your eyes met his: golden brown, almost shining with the way the sun was hitting them. You weren’t sure you had ever seen a more perfect person in your life, they were exactly your–

“I see you’ve met Father Remus!” Your grandma said as she grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back from him a couple more steps. 

Father? He’s married? You wondered until you noticed his clothes, all-black suit, white necktie, she meant Father as in Priest?!?

The man –Remus– smiled, gentle, sweet and caring. “Nice to meet you…” there was silence. It took you a second to realise the man was expecting your name, and you gave it to him, fast and still slightly disoriented. 

“Come on, angel,” your nan said as she pulled you towards the entrance. “We can talk after the mass.” 

“Nice to meet you, Remus,” you said, turning up your most charming smile as you waved goodbye to the man. His eyes seemed to trail on your hand, but your grandma pulled you again, and you were forced to turn around. 

“It’s Father Remus,” your grandma corrected. 

“Right, sorry,” you said, almost carelessly, not carelessly enough for her to notice, though. 

“I’m glad you came, I don’t think any of your cousins made it.”

“Oh, it was nothing, Nan,” you said as you turned around to see if Remus was still around. He was not anymore, you turned back to her. “It’s lovely to be here with you.” 

That wasn’t entirely a lie, you liked spending time with her, she was lovely. But you did not like going to the church, you had long parted with the catholic ideals and you weren’t interested in most of the archaic teachings of the church. Especially the homophobic ones, you thought the closed-mindedness of the church was a terrible thing, and that it stopped many people from being who they truly were, not to mention how it affected a lot of people you knew. It was because of that close-mindedness that some of your friends had to hide themselves from their parents. Because god forbid their children were gay.

Now, not everything about the church was bad, some values were good and important, but at this point in the progressive world, perhaps the bad outweighed the good. And in the end, religions were just a way of controlling the masses, no surprise the church service was called “mass”. 

You could have made a list of everything that was wrong, in a very Lutheran manner, sent it to your grandma and never attended again, but she was old and you knew there was no way she’d understand, especially when she’d been conditioned to think a certain way for far more years than you’d been alive. So instead, you decided to sit through the service with her, and make her happy, rather than be the rebel you sometimes wanted to be.

Ah the service, it was boring until Remus came out. If you thought he’d look handsome in the cassock, you could have been awestruck when you saw him wearing that white alb. Yes, those Sunday school days had taught you enough. He wore a cincture around the waist that matched the alb, and you’d swear you deserve hell when you pictured yourself pulling the entire thing off him in a secret corner of the massive church. In the middle of mass, while the head priest kept talking about things related to Jesus and how he saved someone or whatever, you were thinking of calm and collected Father Remus, losing control and giving in to the lust of the flesh, and all of it for you. 

A small smirk played on your face as you thought of all the things you’d like to do to Remus, of all the sounds you’d have him make. Was it sinful? Perhaps. Did it warrant hell? Most likely. Luckily, you didn’t believe in hell any more than you believed in heaven.

And then it came to you. The idea that would certainly warrant a hell of a lot more than your lewd imaginings. If stealing was a sin, then how sinful would it be to steal something from god? To pilfer one of his men for yourself?

What an ungodly thing to do, so devilish that perhaps you wouldn’t be in hell to be punished but rather to punish. Was it perhaps a revenge for being forced into church for so many years, for having to sit through hours of Sunday School and the indoctrination you had to put up with but somehow managed to see past? Yeah. But at this point, you weren’t sure you cared. Something about Remus had sucked you in like a moth to a flame and you wanted to cling to whatever that was. Otherwise, you might have not be able to go through with your plan. 

It wouldn’t happen all in one day, it couldn’t happen all in one day. It had to be slow, steady, and repetitive, like the snake tempting Eve, like Eve tempting Adam. You hadn’t seen yourself as a sexy woman throughout your life, at least not the kind of Sexy Femme Fatale that men seemed to live and diе for in movies. No, you had never been like that, and you wouldn’t start today. But you would perform the most outrageous and strong act of seduction you had ever thought of and it had to be done perfectly, or you wouldn’t get what you wanted.

What was it that you wanted again? Right, you wanted Remus Lupin.

ACT II: Thou shall not steal 

“When was the last time you confessed?” Your Nan whispered as she leaned onto you, people were already standing for communion. 

You hesitated. “I’m not sure, Nan.” 

She hummed in return, clearly disapproving of your distancing from the church. You were sure she would have called you heathen if you said the truth, it had been years. 

“I could go up and confess now,” you said as you looked at the confessionary in the back, you had seen Remus enter it, but you suspected it was too soon to start with the plan. 

“No darling, repent for your sins and you can confess later. Perhaps after mass.” 

“Or during the week,” you said with a knowing smile. 

“Isn’t it a long way from your apartment?” 

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it anyway.” 

She stood up and took the communion, leaving you sitting on the chair and looking at the way people would walk toward the altar. Judging them, if that made sense. There was a woman who accommodated her breasts back in her seat before standing up, she threw a look at one of the other priests as she took the host. You gave her an approving sort of glance before you turned to someone else. Now you didn’t exactly consider her way of seducing appealing, but then again, yours wouldn’t be much better either. So to each their own. The man behind her had been touching himself in the very back of the church and had stared at her ass throughout the entire line, probably for more material. 

Sinners, the church claiming to be so saint, and it was full of them. 

You weren’t much better than them either, the difference is that you didn’t harbour the same hate towards yourself for it. No, you knew what nature was and you knew that despite how much we humans pretended to be better, we still were all animals. And there are a few things that animals want and need. Love, or the act of love, was one of them. That’s what you’d be using to your favour. 

When your Nan came back, you helped her kneel and do her praying; all the while you attentively looked around. Remus had left the concessionary already and he was at the front with the rest of the priests. He spotted you looking at him and you smiled kindly, innocently at him. The kind of smile someone with the thoughts surging in your head wouldn’t be able to give, and yet, you accomplished it seamlessly.

He gave you a courteous nod and you reciprocated it. The rest of the mass was as boring as you’d expect it to be; except for the fact that Remus was looking at you rather often, either he was curious about their new parishioner, or he was interested. Either way, you were sure you’d be able to use that in your favour. 

When the mass was over, you had to wait for all of them to exit the church first and then you helped your Nan stand and walked with her towards the entrance. Remus was there, giving short blessings and handing out some pamphlets about donations and other similar stuff. Your grandma was the one to pull you towards him. “What a wonderful mass,” she said. “Father Ernest was onto something when he told me to come here while I was in the city.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said bashfully, you could almost see him blush at the praise. What would a real blush look on him? You were dying to know. 

“Wonderful indeed, although I would have liked to hear your interpretation of the verses, Remus,” You said. 

“Father Remus,” your grandma corrected. 

“Oh, it’s fine. If it feels more personal you may call me just Remus, dear one.” 

You tried to hold back the snide smile you would have thrown your Nan had it been any other woman. You could call him Remus. You were a dear one. 

“Right, perhaps another day,” you added with a smile and pulled your grandma to the side so the next person could take the blessing. 

“I preach on Wednesdays,” Remus said, tone borderline desperate, as he raised his head over the people and women piling around him. Clearly, you weren’t the only one to harbour a little crush on Father Remus. It didn’t matter though, because you’d be the one to have him. 

Next Wednesday you didn’t make any plans, and you put on something simple but elegant. A squared-neck shirt and a pair of jeans. When you arrived at the church, you didn’t waste as much time admiring it, instead, you decided to walk straight inside. His mass had started already, and you sneaked in through the side until you reached the third row of seats. There weren’t as many people as you’d expect on a Wednesday, but Remus was preaching like there were hundreds. He was wonderful.

He had a way with words that made you want to listen, perhaps if you weren’t so cynical, it would even convert you. But rather than thinking of his prayer, you were thinking of how incredible he would be as a teacher, you imagined the students, squirming for him and his words in their seats. You imagined the older, more daring girls going after him. You were lucky that wasn’t the situation, the kind of woman that could seduce any man had the benefit of practice that you didn’t. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against them. 

But the kind of woman that went to the church, the kind that flocked to him at the end of mass, they weren’t a threat. They were too pious to try anything even remotely similar to what you had in mind. In fact, you even dared to think you were lucky that he had been a priest and not a teacher because then he would have perhaps been married, and while you were willing to take a man from god, you would never take one from another woman. You had limits. 

After the mass was over, you waited a few minutes before leaving the church “accidentally” bumping into him again. “Remus,” you said with a smile. “We seem to continue bumping into each other,” you added as you leaned closer to him and pressed your cheek to his, making a low smacking sound, and then repeating on the other side. He looked bewildered at the contact. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I got this habit while I was in France and I still haven’t shaken it off completely.” 

“Oh… No, no,” hesitant, bashful, you loved every bit of it. “Not at all, it’s fine. You can greet me however you like.” 

“Is that privilege reserved to me, or does every other parishioner have it?” He seemed taken aback by your words. “I’m joking, Remus,” you added and placed your hand on his arm, before pulling it back tentatively. “Your mass was wonderful.” 

“Thank you, I’m lucky to work at Saint Gryffin.” 

“The way I see it, Saint Gryffin is lucky to have you. I mean lots of women come here to see the beautiful priest Remus.” 

“You think?” he asked. Remus didn’t exactly consider himself handsome, he thought his scars would scare people away rather than attract them. But he sometimes failed to see past them and didn’t pay attention to his beautiful eyes, to his charming smile, to his long lashes, or to his well-toned frame. It was as if he had been carved by Michael Angelo himself, from your perspective.

“For sure,” you replied. “Take a closer look at the way they look at you on Sunday and you’ll see.” He blushed, a deeper shade of red than your Nan had pulled out of him, you resisted the urge to bite your lip and smiled instead. “Today was lovely, I’ll see you around,” you said before waving goodbye and exiting the church. 

You went again a week later, Remus would sometimes lose his focus on the bible and look at you instead. That day you had chosen a skirt. Nothing too short or indecent, but certainly short enough to allow your legs to be seen and admired. An older man hadn’t stopped staring at you throughout the mass, and you would have perhaps told him off if it hadn’t been for the fact that Remus had been in a similar position.

Remus’ distraction, his hesitance and his constant turning to you were enough to drive your attention away from the man and onto him. You would smile, and you would nod, and you would pretend to be a supportive little lamb. Innocent, and meek and kind. Just what he expected from you. And it was that Wednesday, the third time that you’d met him, that you realised you had him right where you wanted him to be. 

He for sure had a thing for you, be it curiosity, admiration, or a small crush. You had gotten his attention, and you had gotten into his mind. Now all you needed was to have him. 

ACT III: Thou shall not Covet someone else’s property 

The next Wednesday you had been late, you had allowed your hair to be slightly dishevelled and your cheeks were warm, despite the autumn getting colder. You had bitten your lips and you looked like you had just gotten away from a dire situation. You’d done it on purpose. When his gaze fell on you he almost stopped talking completely. He staggered to complete his words and you nodded for him to go on. When he was done, he rushed out, and you stayed in your seat. Eyes closed and hands clasping each other, pretending to pray. 

That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, he whispered your name. “Are you okay, Little Lamb?” 

It took a real effort not to laugh at his nickname. Not because you thought it was stupid, but because you were so far from a lamb that you might as well have been the wolf that ate it. You turned to him, fake distress clouding your features, “I’ve done something terrible, Remus.” 

He was kind, almost impossibly so, it almost made you want to stop your plan and leave him the pure man he was. 

Almost.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you could do, that was as bad as you’ve described.” 

“I’d like to confess,” you said. “Would you take my confession?” 

Remus seemed hesitant, biting his lip. He knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t hear your confession, not when he wanted to maintain a personal relationship with you, not when he’d develop a crush. But it was in your preoccupied gaze, in the small frown that etched your features, in the way your lips curved down and in the bobbing of your throat as you swallowed. How ever could he deny you? 

Oh, those thoughts would be the ones that would drag him into sin, nay, not drag, but rather, waft him into it. If Remus hadn’t been so enamoured by you, perhaps corrupting him would have proved a harder task to accomplish for you. 

“Okay,” he said simply. And helped you stand. Guiding you towards the empty confessionary and sitting in his spot as you opened the door to the other one. It was a narrow place, enough for you to sit. There was a screen dividing the two of you, you couldn’t see him, but you suspected he could see you. And there was a small, square hole in between, enough to fit perhaps a hand. You assumed it was there in case you’d like to give something to the priest, as a thank you. 

Remus cleared his throat, and in the most professional way he could muster he said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. My child, what brings you to the sacrament of confession today?”

His voice had been different, stronger as if he was trying not to be himself. You loved it. “Father, I come seeking forgiveness for my sins. I have strayed from the path of righteousness and I seek reconciliation,” you let your voice bend and crack near the end. 

 “I am here to listen, my child. Let us begin with a moment of reflection. Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess.” 

You held back the smirk that threatened to appear when he said that, just in case he was actually able to see you. “I have fallen in love with a man I cannot have.” 

“Oh, darling,” he said, that was Remus, not Father Remus. You had cracked through his façade and you hadn’t even started. “That is not a sin. It’s happened to the best of us.” 

“But it is a sin the way I think of him, Father,” you responded. You heard a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t speak further. “I have dreamt of him, of his lips, of his eyes with long lashes, the way his hair frames his face, of his beautiful and strong hands–” Remus tried not to be jealous of the man you described, but everything about him seemed perfect, and unlike himself, he probably could have you. Your beautiful lips, and eyes, focused solely on him. He hated the guy already. “–sliding between my legs, and touching me.” 

“Do not speak further,” there was an edge of alarm in his voice. A bit of a broken end to it. 

“Oh but Father I must,” you said. “If I don’t I’m afraid I’ll act upon my feelings in the same way I did today while thinking of him.” 

“You…” he hesitated. “You touched yourself… Is that why you’re here?” 

“Yes,” you replied with a frown, almost a wince, all of it an act, of course. 

“Pray Our Father 10 times and–” 

“No! Allow me to relate my story, Father,” he tried to stop you. “I must, I must, or then I might go to him and offer myself in a terrible, ungodly manner and then I won’t ever be deserving of the church ever again.”

Frankly, you didn’t even know how you’d gotten so inspired, but Remus relented, nodding and when he realised you hadn’t heard, he bit his cheek and said. “Go on then.” 

You sighed, that was a real sigh, you weren’t sure you’d get this far. “I had a dream of him, Father. He was handsome as ever, and he looked at me, with such kind eyes, with such loving eyes, that when he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t stop him.” 

Remus was already praying for himself. He did not want to imagine you in your bed, your hair sprawled over the pillow and your mind away in a dream, kissing another man. 

“I didn’t stop him when he pinned me against the wall, and I didn’t stop him when his hand dug under my shirt. I said nothing when it travelled to my breast, and I all but moaned when he pinched my nipple.” 

“That is enough, I get the idea.” 

“But that’s not the whole dream,” you protested, you sounded mortified. How could he stop your repentance for his own misguided thoughts? A man of God wasn’t supposed to harbour this kind of feelings for a fellow human, he was not meant to like you so much, and his pants were not meant to be as uncomfortable. 

“You don’t have to go onto the details–” 

“But Father, I must repent for all of my sins.” 

Remus sighed, “Go on then.” 

“And then when he reached down, oh Remus, I spread my legs for him rather than shut them close…” you didn’t say a thing. You could hear his breathing had gotten a lot more ragged. “He slid this hand through my knickers and touched me, that place that should only be touched by your husband. And… it felt good. I moaned his name until my voice went hoarse in the dream. I saw him pump himself and woke up as he rubbed his cock onto my folds.” 

There was a sigh of relief when he thought the story was over. “It is good that you repent–” 

“The worst part is yet to come.” You said, and you breathed. “When I awoke, I felt a wetness between my legs. My underwear was moist and the stickiness had rubbed onto my legs. I know I shouldn’t have done it, Remus, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. I wanted to know if it would feel as good as in the dream.” 

“Child.” 

“I reached down and repeated the actions the man had done to me. My fingers weren’t as strong or secure, but I found a spot that felt incredible, and I kept touching it, rubbing it, circling around it.” 

Remus’ boner was straining against his pants in an almost painful way. He wanted to let go, he wanted to set him free and chase his own pleasure at your words. At how he pictured you in your bed, sweaty and sighing as you touched yourself. You were so beautiful, he found innocence even in the way you sinned. 

“And then there was bliss, I thought I was dеad and had gone to heaven, but I came back, vision cloudy and disoriented. My bedsheets were sticky with my juices and I had to change them. I’ve been in a permanent state of shame ever since then.” 

“Let us pray for your forgiveness,” Remus said. And my own, he thought. Now not only your sheets had been stained, but so had his pants, just from hearing you. You would have relished on the knowledge if you’d had it. 

“Thank you, Father,” you said as you stood. 

“Pray tell me child, whoever is this man that has you in such an altered state of mind?” 

Got him! you thought as you turned your gaze to the confessionary. And almost in a whisper, you murmured. “Well, it’s you, Remus.” 

ACT IV:  Thou shall not commit adultery

Remus couldn’t stop thinking of you since that day. He’d get boners with the mere thought of you, with the idea of you going back to his confessionary and telling him all the lewd things you had done while thinking of him again.

He thought of you in the shower, and he thought of you in bed, and he thought of you while praying to try and take his mind away from you as well. He knew he was in deep trouble and he had no one he could talk to about his problem. 

He had avoided touching himself, but it was hard and it was painful to ignore the throbbing sometimes, and he had to give in. Gently brushing his hand on top of his trousers until either it subdued or he came, completely forgetting who he was and thinking only of your hot lips in his and your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you in the exact same way he’d had you in your dream. A dream that had now become as much his as it had been yours. 

The next Wednesday he was nervous. Bouncing his leg while he had breakfast and playing with his nails while he read the verse he’d have to give that day. His breath was stuck in his throat as he started to preach and he waited. And waited as he spoke and looked at the door and then back at the bible held between his hands and then back at the door. 

You didn’t go to church that day. 

Naturally, he was mortified. Thinking he had done something wrong, thinking he had scared you and thinking he’d pushed you away somehow. Thinking you were too scared to see him again after those lewd dreams, thinking –God forbid- you had chosen a different church to attend. 

So when the next Wednesday you showed up with a small skirt (the smallest you had ever gone to church with) and a simple preppy-looking sweater he couldn’t help but be both relieved and terrified, all at the same time. You had tinted your lips red, not enough for it to be lipstick, but enough for them to look raw and bitten, and while your hair was perfectly put together, and your makeup right in place, there was something about you that screamed danger. 

You sat right in the very first row. There were like 5 other people in the massive church that day. Someone sitting in the middle. A couple of old people in the back and a few others scattered around. No one young, and no one near the front either. 

Oh, what a terrible thing it was that you were about to do. 

Remus was quick to dismiss his deacons, asking them to go fetch something while he preached mass and they gave him a courteous nod while he started talking. As per usual, you listened attentively, paying close attention to the things he said, and despite yourself, often finding the things that you disagreed with. You realized he could barely take his eyes off you, and you slowly, spread your legs. Only a little, only enough to get his attention. You saw the way he licked his lips, and went back to talking. And you smiled. You pulled your ass back and opened yourself a little wider before crossing one leg over the other. You accommodated your skirt with your hand, slow and steady. Pulling your skirt up to show more skin before pulling it down and settling it in place, but only after he’d noticed, and seen as much of skin as possible, all the while, pretending to be doing it all innocently. Like you hadn’t worn that small skirt on purpose and like you hadn’t taken off your knickers and placed them in your bag in that public loo before walking inside the church. 

When the mass ended, you saw Remus disappear into the confessionary. Onto the confession side. You saw him look around and then get inside, nervous as if scared to be seen. Probably trying to run away from you. When you made sure that there was no one left, you walked inside the other side. He was hunched, elbows leaning on his knees and head hidden between his hands. You thought you had gone too far since he looked like he had been crying, but you quickly realised he had been praying instead. 

Sure, he’d have complicated thoughts, but your plan was meant to be fun for the two of you, and you wanted him to enjoy being corrupted as much as you enjoyed corrupting him. 

“Remus,” you said tentatively. “Are you okay?” 

He gasped and turned to the small division, he couldn’t see you, but you could see him perfectly. “It’s you.” 

Rather than replying you cocked your head to the side. “Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess,” you joked. He gave you a stern look from the other side, a reproaching sort of look as if he wanted to tell you how terrible it was for you to impersonate a Priest, but he didn’t speak. “Or should I speak of mine first?”

“Please don’t.”

“Then sing, little bird.” 

Remus huffed. “I’ve been thinking about a woman, non-stop.” 

“A church woman?” 

“I’m not sure if she really is a church woman anymore.” 

“A devil?” 

“No.” 

You smiled, “Then, what’s so wrong about thinking of her?” 

“I’m no ordinary man. It’s against my beliefs.” 

“To think of a woman is against your beliefs?” 

“To think of her in the way I’ve been thinking of her.” 

“Which is?” 

“As terrible as your dream, my darling.” 

You smirked at that, biting your lip so hard you might have drawn bIood if you hadn’t stopped to say something else. “So you’ve been thinking of kissing me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Of touching me?” 

“Yes,” he said, strained. 

“Of fucking me?” 

Silence.

“Have you thought of the sounds I would make, of the sighs and moans and groans?” 

He closed his eyes, a deep frown etched on his features. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I used your confession to fuel my imaginations, to satisfy my carnal desires to–” 

“That’s okay.” 

“It is not!” he responded, distressed. 

“Remus,” you said simply. “I wanted you to think of me,” you admitted. “I wanted you to think of me while you touched yourself the same way I thought of you while I did it. The same way I’ve been thinking of you while doing it, in fact.” 

His head snapped your way, he seemed mortified, but you could also see one of his hands being brought down, adjusting his pants. 

“Do you want me to tell you how I do it?” 

“No,” he lied. 

“Are you sure? I won’t ask again.” 

He looked to the side, red from shame. He bit his lip. “Tell me.” 

You smiled, “I lay in bed, and then these images come to my mind, I think of you, of your hands. They’re touching me, they’re everywhere. I don’t know where you ended and I start and I love every bit of it. It’s my hands that travel down my thighs but I think of them as yours. It is my fingers that slide in between my folds but I believe they’re yours.” 

“Fucking hell,” he said, his grip on the wooden latch, grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. You peered through the blinds and realised the tent in his pants. 

“Remus,” you said quietly. He turned to the wooden division, gaze strained, eyes filled with guilt, he was looking for you, but he couldn’t see past the squares and the small, shadow of you that got through.  “Touch yourself.” 

It was soft, the way you said it. Soft like a suggestion more than a command, but neither of you doubted it was the latter. And as if it had been a command from God himself, he listened and did what told. He patted himself over his black pants and hissed at the strain he’d been on. It was almost painful, how constricted and trapped his cock had been. 

“Soft,” you said then, watching, resisting your own temptation to dig your hand under your skirt. “Be kind to yourself, Remus, you deserve it.” 

He listened, and continued to rub himself, passing his hand back and forth and allowing it to help with the strain. “Te” –he stuttered– “tell me how you feel.” 

“The inner side of my legs is soft, incredibly so,” you said. “I get chills when I run my hands close to my core.”

 “It’s wet,” you said then. You had dug your hand under your skirt now. “Really wet.” 

He could hear your breaths getting sharper, he assumed you were also touching yourself on the other side and he could barely think properly, barely command his hand to do what it needed to do to help himself. 

“That looks painful,” you said as you saw him continue to rub himself over his trousers. “Take yourself out.” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

“Touch yourself with your bare hand, Remus.” 

He seemed like he would protest, so you decided to give him some encouragement. You placed your finger between your folds and brushed over your clit, emitting a soft moan, “Please.” 

Just like before, Remus followed your command, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his boxers down enough so he could pull himself out. You smiled. “So beautiful, aren’t you?” you praised from the other side. He was long, thick and standing proud. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually placed his hand around himself. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’d forgotten how good it feels.” 

Of course, he had been a teenager once, of course, he had touched himself while feeling terrible for doing so and having grown up in a Christian household. 

“Remus?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, as he pumped. Slow and steady, as if he didn’t want to go too fast and show you how easy it was for him to cum at the thought of you. 

“You’re making me insanely wet, I might have ruined your comfy little chair here.” 

“Are you teasing me?” 

“No, I’m being a good little lamb that tells no lies,” you said in response. “Ah… fuck.” 

“What was that?” 

“Just thinking of how incredible your hand would feel if it were doing what mine is?” 

“Which is?” 

“Shhh…” you said. He stopped moving. “You hear that?” you asked. It was a lewd wet sound. “It’s my finger, coming in and out of myself.” 

Remus moaned your name and bit his lips. He came in his hand before he had time to really visualize you. “Ugh,” he said as he looked at the mess he’d made all over his hands, some of it also on his pants. 

You took a handkerchief from your bag and passed it over your legs, collecting some of the sticky stuff between your folds and then you passed it through the small, opened section. Crossing your hand, the one with still glistening fingers over. 

You knew he’d noticed the second his eyes opened wide. “So you clean yourself, I used it for myself too.” He bit his lip and carefully took it from your hands, and cleaned your fingers with it as if he tried to wash his sin by cleaning your equally sinful fingers. But he didn’t bring his cum covered hand even close to it. Let alone his cock. “What? You think it’s gross?” 

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he said as he brought it close to his nose and sniffed, stifling a moan with the fabric. Now you were the speechless one. “Do you have a napkin?” 

You somehow managed to pull a napkin from your bag and handed it over to him through the same place. He used that to clean himself and placed it neatly folded in one of his pockets. 

“Can I keep this?” he asked as he held the handkerchief between two fingers. 

“Yes,” you almost stuttered. You had never seen a man do something as ridiculous –and hot– as what he’d done. 

“Will you disappear again, angel?” 

“Angel?” you asked with a smirk, “I would think you’d see me as something else, a devil, perhaps.” 

“Impossible, a devil wouldn’t be able to show me heaven like you did today.” 

Speecheless, again. This man really could bring you to your knees. “Do you even want to see me again?” 

“More than anything on this earth.” 

“Fine then, I’ll come to confess tomorrow, how does that sound?” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

ACT V: Thou shall honour your Mother and Father

After the heat of the moment, Remus felt the sudden urge to repent, to throw away the handkerchief and to pray in bed until his knees were raw from how much he’d been kneeling. And he tried, but even as he prayed he knew how pointless it was. The act of repenting, of praying and being forgiven for your sins, only worked if you actually felt regret over what you’d done. 

But Remus was far from feeling remorseful. He had repented a great many things throughout his life. Not trusting his innocent best friend and blaming him for things that had happened, not doing more for the world when he had the chance and smaller, pesky things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelash about but that he constantly put himself down for. 

But having done what he did on the confessionary, hearing your small moans and the lewd sounds that you’d made for him, telling him what to do and how to do it, that he didn’t regret. On the other hand, he wanted to do it again. You had taken him to heaven and he was eager to see it again. And he did it, repeated the same actions, it was cold and dark and there was no one even close to his room when he pulled that handkerchief out and placed it on his face. Smelling the scent of you while he pulled himself out of his pants and jerked himself for the second time that day. He came with the thought of you at the confessionary and your name muffled by the handkerchief that he refused to move from his mouth. By the end, he was sore and delicate and he felt like he had pushed himself too hard, but he found the most peaceful sleep afterwards. 

When he woke up again, he was still covered in his own cum and he had to wash the sheets of his bed in his sink before anyone noticed what he had done. The shame he felt diluting as the sun rose, and he imagined you coming back to the church. He pictured you in that small skirt you’d worn yesterday, or in the simple dress you’d taken the first time that you went to hear his mass. But he was not expecting to see you walk in the clothes you’d worn. 

A white dress, long enough to reach mid-thigh, and made of soft sheer fabric layered one on top of another. He might have been imagining things but he would have sworn he could see your nipples perk through the thin fabric when you turned to him, a small, innocent smile on your face as you threw him a look and walked inside the confessionary. An angel, you really were an angel. 

“Pretty thing, you’ve come back,” he said as he too walked in, this time taking the side that belonged to him, he loved that he could see you. 

“I promised, Remus.”

“I know, angel. But I’m always scared I’ve dreamed you up, that you’re not real and that I was just imagining you all along.” 

You smirked and pushed your hand through the small hole connecting the two of you, “I’m very real, Remus, you can touch me.” 

He did, he placed his hand on top of yours and you heard a sigh of relief when his thumbs pressed onto your hand. He was careful and kind, passing his fingers over your knuckles and under your palm in a soft, gentle manner that was sending shivers down your spine. This poor man was breaking down for you, and yet he was the gentlest of them all.

“You really are,” he breathed. He didn’t know if he should be happy that you were real, or horrified by the things he’d done for you, of the things he’d do. His faith? He might have been willing to throw it all away for another chance to see you, for another chance to feel your hands, for your lips, your kisses. How could he believe in a God that had given him nothing, when you were here, willing to give him everything? 

“Yesterday I saw it all and you barely got to hear me, I thought of showing you my sins rather than describing them to you today, is that okay, Father?” That last bit was a taunt, in the same way you’d been taunting him since the very beginning.

“Yes,” there was no hesitance, if anything, you would have only described the waver in his voice as excitement. 

You couldn’t hold back the smirk that pulled from your lips, Remus’ breath hitched as you accommodated yourself in the chair. Leaning back and spreading your legs for him, letting the soft fabric of your dress fall in between your tights and slowly show the outline of your legs. 

“When was the last time you saw a woman naked?” 

“In real life? Never.” 

Your head snapped to him, although all you could see was the outline of a shadow through the dark-edged wood, “Never?!? Pictures?” 

“When I was around 15.” He admitted. “My best friend Peter once took a few magazines to school after the break. He said his father had gotten them for him on his 14th birthday and that he told them to take them back before his mother noticed. I barely remember them.” 

“Did you jack off to them?” 

“I stole a page,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “It was this girl with a forest-green, transparent robe. I took her home with me, my father found it and he was enraged. He called me a monster and drove me straight into church.”

“The priest there took a look at the image, and made me kneel down on the rocky floor and pray for forgiveness. I don’t know if he forgot, or if he did it on purpose, but he said not to stand until he came back and he didn’t come back until 7 hours later.” 

“My god,” you said. Remus didn’t even think of reprimanding you for taking his name in vain. “That must have been awful. Your parents were terrible.” 

Remus shrugged, “It’s what I was used to,” he added when he remembered you couldn’t actually see him, although you could feel his hands tense at the thought. 

“That means, since then… you’ve never even–?” 

“No,” he admitted softly. “I guess it’s easier not to do something when you don’t know how it feels. Although my best friend was always eager to tell me how good it was.” 

“Worry not, you won’t have to use your imagination anymore,” you said as you pulled your hand back into your area and moved it to the thin strap of the dress, slowly sliding it down, he could barely see the valley of your breast, and yet he felt himself start to tense, his cheeks heat and bIood rushing south. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“But I want to,” you said, turning your gaze from your bare shoulder and towards him, he could see the mirth shining in your eyes, he could see the mischievousness and the licentiousness reflected on your pupils. You pulled the other strap down and then moved both of your hands to the fabric at the top of your breasts, pulling it down and letting them in full view. 

Remus breathed sharply when he finally saw them. Of course, he knew what they looked like, the girls in Peter’s magazine had shown him. James had described them, but that was nothing compared to seeing them in real life, it was nothing compared to seeing yours in real life. 

You smiled at the little to no sound he was making from the other side. You leaned your back on the stunningly carved wooden wall of the confessionary and squared your shoulders for him. “They look like this for you,” you said as you slid your hand over one of your nipples. “They turned hard the minute I spotted you at the door.” 

Silence, nothing more than a ragged breath. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You teased. 

“I had never seen a prettier thing in my life,” he said. “Except for your angelic face, that is.” 

You laughed in return, a sweet and soft laugh that he would have done anything to hear again. “You’re good at this for someone who’s never done it.” 

“Good at what?” 

“At making a woman blush.” You said. “But I’m just as good,” you added as you pulled one of your legs up on the small seat, your dress fell over and bunched up covering your core, but Remus barely even cared, he was immersed in the plushness of your thigh, imagining how it would feel wrapped around his waist. 

You heard him swallow thickly. 

“In my dream,”  you started, “In my dream, we weren’t here, we were hiding somewhere in the church.” Your breath had slowed down, one of your hands was playing with your thigh, the other one on your breast. You didn’t usually pay much attention to them, but it was that you knew his eyes were on you, that touching them, knowing how it must have made him feel, was turning you on even more than before. “You were kissing me –ah– you were touching me.” 

Remus was, by now, having to adjust his extremely uncomfortable pants.

“How?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “Show me how I was touching you.” 

You couldn’t even hold back the smile from your face. “You traced your fingers over my thigh,” you placed your hand on your bare knee, and then started to move it downwards, towards yourself. “You were kissing me here,” you added as you leaned your neck to the side for him to see better. And then… you touched me here.” Your hand was already in your core. You moved the ruffles of the dress to the side, allowing him to see, to see all of you. You heard a small gasp, when he noticed you had worn no knickers. 

“You slid your hands on my slit,” you said and followed your own instructions, “Soft and gentle, like you are when you’re preaching. In the same way that you moved your delicate slender fingers over the bible,” you breathed, a little more ragged now. “You slid one of your fingers in between my folds, and looked for my clit. You found it almost instantly, and you rolled your finger over it gently, you loved my whimpers.” 

“I do,” he agreed. “I imagined them while touching myself last night. Those wet little sounds you make when you–” 

“Ah,” you breathed as you dug your fingers inside yourself, your walls tightening around it involuntarily. “Like this?” you asked and smiled, biting your lip before you did it again. You brought the hand on your breast downwards and leaned back a little so you could spread your legs even further. Remus’ mouth watered, he wondered how wrong would it be to taste you?

To bury his head in your legs and lick all of the wetness that coated your fingers, to be so close that the smell of you got everywhere, that he wouldn’t need the handkerchief to feel you close. You continued to touch yourself. Breathing heavily, sighting and moaning softly, he wondered what that would feel if it were directly whispered into his ear. 

You were so lost in yourself for those first few minutes, so wrapped in the feeling that you hadn’t realized the lack of beautiful moans from his side. 

“Remus–” you said breathily, “Why aren’t you touching yourself?” 

“Yesterday at night I– I did it again… a couple of times. I’m, it’s a little painful,” he admitted shamefully, but your eyes shone with lust so intense at his words that he continued talking. “It was your little handkerchief’s fault. I was going to wash it, but I got its scent and it made me feral.”

“Aha?” you asked, as you continued to touch yourself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Shut my door and laid on my bed with it over my nose.” 

You hummed contentedly, half a moan, half a hum. 

“I was so hard it was ridiculous. I had barely even smelled you. I hadn’t even gone through the images of that wonderful dream of yours.” 

You sighted in bliss, breath ragged as you slid your finger out of yourself and turned to him with a smile. 

“I have an idea,” you said and then let out a breathy laugh.

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Part 2 is out now!

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[angelsforthenight]

BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader.

a catholic boarding school AU pt 1 🍓

pt 2 here!

you’re somebody that’s virtuous, staying in an all girls catholic boarding school. fallen victim to the vast fear of god, you try your hardest not to sin. however… what happens when an embarrassing incident catches a certain rogue girl’s attention — who absolutely reeks of sin?

content: heavy religious talk, catholic, holy! reader, rebel!ellie, quiet!reader, player!ellie, ellie has piercings, ‘lil raunchy but no smut (yet heheh), v brief mention of drugs, v brief mention of porn.

a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i did back in the summer! i had accidentally (and stupidly) deleted my account :,) let’s pray people see this.

having lived in a catholic boarding school for half of your life, it’s only natural you were heavily religious. the fear of god plagued you like a disease. you were nailed on following the Word, and earning a seat in heaven — not it’s roaring, fiery counterpart.

you were a good girl: always following the rules the sisters bestowed upon you. always deemed as pure, and untainted. you prayed every night without fail: knelt beside your bed, elbows against the mattress, hands clasped together.

you had always tried your hardest to stray away from sin. however, there’d be temptations, of course. for instance, that one time you caught a bunch of girls in your dorm giggling and squealing at a porno-magazine they had randomly found somewhere. you had accidentally caught a very brief glimpse at a woman flaunting her tits and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made you feel something. a needy little throb between your thighs. that night, consumed with guilt, you had prayed so hard that your head hurt.

oh, and if we’re talking about temptations? ELLIE WILLIAMS had to be the hardest one yet.

take the word sinful and ellie would come to mind. she was someone you had always tried your best to avoid. rebellious, brash and cocky. it was said she was forced here as punishment from her parents. she had always been hard to discipline: had piercings (spider bites and one on her right brow), always snuck out and was notorious for smuggling in drugs.

even though ellie was a pain, there was no way the nuns could expel her since her parents sponsored the school a generous amount. they had to resort to seeing ellie as someone they could “save.”

whenever she roamed the hallways, every girl would scramble to move out of her way. she was incredibly intimidating and got into fights whenever she wanted to — both with students AND the sisters. of course you wouldn’t want to mess with her.

there were also numerous rumours circling around about her. too many to count, but one stuck with you the most: that she gets it on with girls. hearing from your gossip-gripped friends that ellie had fucked a handful of girls in your school had surprised you. you were brutally naive, so preoccupied with seeming good in the eyes of the Lord that you weren’t aware that something like that could happen. this had only made you want to stay away from ellie even more.

you were quiet, so timid and meek that you believed yourself lucky to actually have friends. your quietness allowed ellie not to notice you, not even be aware of your existence despite you two being in a lot of the same classes. you didn’t mind — in fact, you were glad. relieved, even.

that is, until the school’s annual sports day.

it was a scorching hot day in the middle of june and many of the girls were excited. not particularly because of the sports but because every time, the neighbouring all boys school would join yours. a classic boys versus girls. you didn’t really care whether the boys were here or not, as opposed to your friends who were all bashful and red-faced. you found it understandable considering they’re sheltered away from them most of the time. bless them.

you and your friends were leaning against the fence of the tennis court. you were so hot that your t-shirt stuck to the small of your back, little baby hairs glued to your forehead. bored from all the boy-talk, your eyes decided to drift to a certain auburn-haired girl: manspreading on the bench right across from you. you wondered how a woman could sit so unladylike.

ellie was out of breath, probably from doing a running activity. there was visible sweat gleaming on the corner of her forehead and her cheeks were pink. god knows why, but you allowed yourself to prolong your stare. you watched as ellie grabbed her water bottle, gulping down desperate sips; some of the water spilling and dripping down her slender neck. you watched as the skin on her neck bobbed as she sipped, heard as she panted breathlessly like a dog. you felt the skin on your cheeks begin to prickle, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe. when her pale green eyes caught yours, you immediately looked away, turning your attention back to your friends. that was the first time you two had ever made eye contact.

a moment later, it was your group’s turn to play tennis. ellie remained perched on the bench, and as you waited in the queue to have a go on batting the ball, you happened to be quite near her. you tried your very best to play it cool. ellie paid no attention, spaced-out and obviously too lazy to participate in the activities.

there were also boys in the queue, right behind you, which had got your girls in a frenzy. one of your friends decided to push you against them. “oops” she would say before purposely bumping you towards them again and again. you were awkward and uncomfortable, but you had played it off and giggled, acting as if it was funny. at a point, she accidentally pushed you too hard which made you lose your balance; stumbling on your heel and falling backwards. right onto ellie’s lap. yep! her lap.

“woah?” ellie said, caught off guard. “oh shit. go. go!” your so-called friends murmured as they scrambled off, leaving you completely and utterly humiliated. you immediately bolted off her lap as you turned around to look at her.

“i’m really sorry. that was— i mean, my f-friends were…” you began to ramble, feeling your whole body turn hot. ellie’s lips cracked up into an amused grin.

“it’s chill. not very often you get a cute girl sitting on your lap for less than a second.” she chuckled. you blushed immensely, before rapidly nodding and speeding away.

if only your little innocent self knew how quick things would change…

a/n: hooked? read pt 2 here!

[thechaoticcherub]

Cherub

Pairing: Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Reader is a student teacher at the Catholic nursery school attached to the church she attended growing up. While becoming disillusioned with being a teacher she runs into the church's priest that she has known since he taught her confirmation classes.

Warnings: 18+ please, large age gap, power dynamics, dubcon(?), priests, catholicism, lots of religious imagery, i mean i am GOING TO HELL, blatant blasphemy, violation of holy spaces, joel is a PERVERT, some mentions of him being interested in reader as a underage teenager(no actual underage anything), masturbation, sexual shame, humiliation, embarrassment, innocence kink, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, light choking(not even really choking), rough sex, pussy pronouns, no use of y/n, religious trauma, i really gotta underscore how much I violate holy things from christianity, smoking, cigarettes, cum play, lots of pet names, no daddy kink but lots of calling him Father

Notes: Okay please bless me lord for I have SINNED. this is FILTH even thought there isn't like constant smut it might be the dirtiest thing i've written? I'm so sorry to Catholics everywhere. And I'm sorry if I fucked up terminology. I tried to do lots of research but you know, liturgical shit is hard to understand. also yeah, i get how much this is more writer insert than reader considering the title. Ahem. I'm sorry this is again not really edited or beta read. sorry. Well I hope you enjoy!

OH! also: I have a playlist for this if anyone would be interested, let me know!

Word Count: 6.4 K

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It had been a long week at Holy Trinity Catholic Nursery School and you were exhausted, when you had first started your student teaching unit you had been beyond excited to be back at the church you grew up going to. You were familiar with the facilities including the big, beautiful sanctuary and the priest who still presided over the Parish was the priest who had done confirmation with you. Father Joel Miller had always been a slightly off-beat, interesting, yet intimidating choice for priest of a Catholic church. He was known for smoking Marlboro Reds in his office, having a scruffy unshaven face, giving short homilies in his gruff Texan accent and seeming more like a cowboy than a priest. 

There was something about him though that had always sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver, or something sinister. He was handsome, that was a known fact around the church when you were growing up, the other girls in your confirmation class giggled about it and  even now your co-workers at the nursery school often made jokes or teasing comments to each other. He had to be in his mid-fifties now with greying stubble and hair and lines around his eyes and forehead but yes, you did still find him attractive, but it didn’t shake the sense that your tingling sense of something might not have been entirely positive. 

Maybe it was the simple fact that his eyes always had lingered on you for longer than you felt necessary. Even when you were a young teenager in his confirmation classes, learning prayers, handing in your sermon notes, sitting in mass every Sunday, you felt his eyes on you. You never understood what it was about you that made him look for so long but he had. Now that you were working on becoming a teacher like you had always hoped, you found that when he came to visit the classrooms, he spent his time asking you questions about the classroom instead of the lead teachers. That was easy to brush off as maybe he felt like he was helping you learn, but when you brought the children to the main church for their daily prayers his eyes would spark on you and he would come to you first when he gave a blessing to everyone. His hand resting on your forehead as he spoke his short blessing before drawing the sign of the cross on your forehead with his thumb, his eyes stuck on yours as if he would never look away. Eventually he always did, moving on to each individual child and adult from your classroom, but he didn’t linger with any of them the way he lingered with you. 

Now, as the day was coming to a close you had snuck away from the classroom to try and escape the exhaustion that was working with children day in and day out. You had always wanted to be a Nursery school teacher but now that you were experiencing a classroom you understood why burnout was so common. You had made up a bad excuse and snuck down the cool hallway, away from the school portion of the building,  to the candle lit nave, you weaved your way through the pews over to the side aisle lined with stone arches. You took a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the cutesy dress you wore because of your ridiculous desire to be the next Ms Frizzle. In your opinion, just under the arches to the side of the pews was the best place to sneak away to and smoke without being in too much danger of being caught. The incense that was regularly burned covered up most of the smell, you could enjoy the view of the sanctuary and the altar while you smoked and it was usually deserted. You tucked yourself under one of the arches, your back pressed into the cool stone and lit up. Taking a long inhale you relished in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by screaming preschoolers. It was allowing yourself these couple minutes away from the chaos of the end of the day that made this week bearable. You smoked and tapped the ash off onto the stone floor, rubbing it into the cracks with your foot as you went. 

“You ain’t sposed to be smokin’ in here, young lady.” The voice came from a few yards away by the priest’s door that opened into the sanctuary by the altar, you jumped and turned to face the man whose voice it was. Father Miller was watching you as he walked across the sanctuary, first past the altar and then the pulpit and down through the central gap between the altar rails. You felt frozen in place, you had smoked here multiple times and no one had ever come in and of course now, it was Father Miller who had found you here. He stood in front of the first pew and crossed his arms over his chest, still watching you. 

“Shit,” you said, unsure of what to do with the lit cigarette. Usually when you were done smoking you’d put it out on the floor and rub out the mark and shove the butt into the pack to get rid of later. Now he was there and the smoke from your cigarette filtered up above you, curling against the stone arch and then dispersing. 

“Got a fresh mouth on you too,” He added with a laugh. “Never knew that about you before,” he crossed in front of the pew, walking towards you. You felt like a small animal caught in a trap and he was some kind of giant predator stalking towards you. He was wearing all black, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his clerical collar was bright white against the black of the shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Father, I…didn’t think-” You broke off because really you didn’t think you would be caught, not that you didn’t think it would be a problem or anything. Joel’s eyes widened a little as he waited for you to finish your sentence, he turned at the end of the pew to walk along the side aisle to the first arch where you were still trapped. His finger grazed alone the  wood of the pew, 

“You didn’t think…?” He prompted when your voice faltered. You shrugged, 

“I don’t have an excuse, Father.” You admitted. Father Miller walked right up to you in your alcove that you thought would be so secret and stood in front of you. You remembered how intimidated by him you had always been, suddenly you felt fifteen again, having to recite scripture and prayers correctly in your weekly confirmation classes. Your heart thudded in your chest as he looked down at you, he was tall, broad and as he stood so close to you, popping any sort of personal space bubble you thought you had, you realized you could smell him. Tobacco, cool mint, fresh sweat and then underneath it all, an acrid heat, almost metallic. It mingled into something not unpleasant but it did mean he was too close. 

“Go ahead and smoke that, kid.” Joel’s eyes moved from yours down towards the cigarette dangling in your fingers and he nodded slowly, encouraging you. 

“I-I shouldn’t…” You stuttered, still looking up at him, almost transfixed on his face, still frozen there half with fear, half just trapped in his gaze. 

“No, you shouldn’t…but you already are, cherub, may as well finish.” Joel said and you watched as a sly smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. Cherub. Not typically did a priest use any sort of nickname for a parishioner, let alone a pet name like that. If anything they would say “my child” if in confession. Cherub sent that familiar shiver down your spine, a memory surfaced of that word on his lips years before. It had been to you then too,

“Say a hail mary and you will be absolved, cherub.” You must have confessed something to him or done something wrong in class.  Your heart sped at the memory and your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was telling you to smoke, daring you to and there was no reason not to anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t smoke in the church, Mr. Marlboro Reds in his office. So you held his gaze as best you could and lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. You blew the smoke away from him and he watched you, like he had so many times before. 

“Aint you supposed to be with the kids?” He asked, still standing to close, his scent still wafting over you, still just watching you smoke. 

“Yes,” You said softly, “But I needed…a minute away,” You didn’t even want to admit how much you needed to get away from your job, your responsibilities but the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. You hurriedly brought the cigarette up to your lips again, as if to silence yourself.

“A minute away…” Joel repeated, “To pray?” He asked, his voice mocked you because even though you were in the church, you weren’t lighting a candle or on your knees asking for peace. You were smoking and feeling bad for yourself. You started to shake your head, the cigarette dangling from your lips now, before you could even complete the motion his hand was on your chin, halting your movement.  His thick thumb dug into one side of your jaw, his pointer finger curled down the other side. Breath, and all thought was knocked out of you. All you could do was look up at the chiseled face above you.  There was grey in the scruff on his cheeks and peppering his mustache and  his chin was tilted up as his eyes looked down on you, examining your face. The old priest shouldn’t have been touching you like this, you knew that but your feet wouldn’t work, your stomach twisted and the shiver running up and down your spine still couldn’t make up its mind about whether it was a good shiver or a bad shiver. “I think you need’ta get on your knees to pray more often,” his voice had lowered slightly but the gruff resonance in it was enough to shake you. You thought for a half second he was about to force your to your knees now but instead he reached up with his other hand and plucked the dangling cigarette from your lips. He put it into his mouth, inhaled and then removed it, taking a step away from you,

“Thanks, cherub.” he said and then he turned on his  nice leather shoes and walked back up through the pews. 

+

You didn’t return to the church to smoke again. You did tell yourself you would go to mass more often. The thoughts you were having about that evening were completely unholy, and you needed to force them out of your mind. You needed to take the Eucharist and try and heal yourself from these sins of the flesh. For the first time in a long time you had been tempted, really tempted to do something you knew was wrong. When you were young you had touched yourself plenty but as you got older you became more and more disgusted by your actions and resisted it, knowing self love was sinful, but that interaction with Father Joel Miller had you thinking things that made your body heat up. The crawling shiver up your spine had been a warning, a warning about feelings that had bubbled up in your tummy and how it would be so easy for those feelings, those desires, wants, needs to take over. It was your own dirty mind that was allowing you to believe it was because of Father Joel looking at you that you got that creeping sensation. He was a priest, a little bit of an unorthodox priest, but a priest nonetheless and you were allowing dirty thoughts to change your opinion of him. So going to mass was a good idea. 

You didn’t allow yourself to look at Father Miller during the service on Sunday, but his gruff voice speaking his homily reminded you vividly of the way he said “cherub”. The way he had told you that you needed to “get on your knees to pray.” You could barely pay attention to his words because simply his voice, that resounding, husky voice did something to you and warmth pooled deep in your belly. It felt like there was a persistent drip of warmth sliding lower down, lower to that place that remained mostly unexplored by you, by anyone. All because of his voice.

You felt like it vibrated through the floor of the church and up into your pew, making you pulse with your disgusting desires.

You kept your eyes down, on your hymnal, refusing to look up at Father Miller because there was a quiet part of you, in the back of your mind, that told you if you looked at him, you’d be meeting his gaze. That would do absolutely nothing to help control that heat that was pooling inside of you. 

When you stood to go to the altar rails and receive the eucharist your legs were wobbly, damn this weakness. There was no reason to sexualize Father Miller’s kindness to you. He hadn’t gotten you in trouble for smoking in the church and in return you were allowing these debased thoughts to happen to you in church on your way to receive the very body and blood of Christ. While you walked up the aisle, the crucifix directly in front of you, a statue of the Virgin Mary staring into your soul, you could feel that drip of heat wetting your underwear. You tried your hardest to tell yourself it was nothing, it was just natural discharge, not what you knew it to be, your body’s reaction to Father Miller’s voice as he spoke holy words, prayers and talked of repentance during his Homily.

At the altar rail you knelt down on the cushion and clasped your hands in front of you to pray while you waited for your turn to receive communion.  You knew you would have to look at Father Miller while he gave you the body of Christ but you were scared, you had forced yourself to avoid looking at him all throughout mass, you hadn’t met his gaze when you knew he was looking at you and you told yourself time and time again that his gaze meant nothing. But your attempts to curb your desires had been in vain something about his voice, about the memories of his hand on your chin, his body so close to you, his smell had caused you to leak arousal into your underwear. Your labia felt swollen against the tight cotton and you were ashamed to be kneeling in church like this, your face was burning much like you would be if you were to be struck down dead right now. You could hear him approaching, speaking to each parishioner as he placed the body of Christ on their tongue and blessed them. You would have to look up at him shortly, your eyes would have to meet his, you would have to take in that face that had been haunting you while he spoke his blessing to you. He was on the person to your right and now was the time to tilt your head up, you almost didn’t but as he moved over, you knew your place as a good Catholic and you looked up at your priest. 

He was just as entrancing as he always had been, in off white vestments with gold stitching, his greying hair pushed back away from his face, a little long in the back, curling around his neck and his eyes, dark and hungry, staring down at you. Your vagina clenched around nothing and you burned with shame and the memory of his big hand at your chin and jaw. 

Your eyes locked onto his and his gaze held yours, refusing to let you go, there was no choice in the matter, you would gaze up into his eyes until the end of time if he wanted it. He held the body of Christ out to you, your head upturned. At the time you didn’t understand just how reverent you looked, all you could think of was him and the vague worry that your juices might have been dripping down your leg. 

“The body of Christ,” Father Miller’s voice changed ever so slightly when he spoke the words to you. You had been listening the whole time you had been kneeling and now his voice had lost the monotone pitch he had had. There was a lilt in his voice that was only for you. 

“Amen,” You said, you opened your mouth, your tongue very slightly pushed out, resting on the edge of your bottom lip, your eyes still captured in his gaze. Something blazed there, behind his eyes and despite the heat in your cheeks and the heat that was making your wet and swollen vulva pulse with a need you had never felt before, that familiar shiver crawled up your spine. Joel placed the body of Christ on your tongue and maybe you imagined it, maybe it was a split second that felt like it stretched into eternity but you could have sworn the tip of his finger grazed the side of your tongue as he took his hand away. That tiniest touch of his thick, calloused finger against an intimate and sensitive part of yourself made your brow briefly furrow and that deep clench of your sex to take over your body again. You closed your mouth around the wafer that you believed to be the actual flesh of your Savior and your gaze remained on the man granting you that sacrament. You watched his lip twitch ever so slightly as, without taking those dark, burning brown eyes form yours, he took the chalice he was handed and held it before you. 

“The blood of Christ,” he said, you could hear that lilt again, like he was mocking not only you but God himself as he held that chalice out. 

“Amen,” you said and he brought the chalice to your mouth, tilting it back while cupping his hand under your chin in case it spilled over. The proximity of his hand to your chin buzzed something in you. Your eyes remained on him and his eyebrows raised slightly as he fed you the Blood of Christ. When he removed the chalice from your lips, a droplet of the wine dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You were about to reach up and wipe it when his thumb beat you to it. In one quick motion, he swiped it away, the calloused thumb leaving a trail of heat on your face. You felt him tear his eyes away from you like a punch to the gut and you knew you had to continue on. You made the sign of the cross on yourself, collected every ounce of strength you had and got up from the altar rail. You could feel your slick soaking your underwear, and wetting your thighs as you walked. You knew you had to beg for forgiveness and the only place to do that was Confession. 

+

You knew you had to confess. You hadn’t been able to resist your carnal desires, once you had returned to your apartment after mass on Sunday you had tried your hardest to relieve that mounting pressure between your thighs. You had delicately stroked your folds and experimented with pace and tried to find a rhythm that would relieve you but as if as punishment, you couldn’t. Now, you needed to confess and to make matters worse, the only person you could confess to was Father Miller. You came to confession on a Friday night after school had let out. The hours for confession were set and you knew he would be in the confessional, waiting for perishoners.

Friday was usually silent at the church, the staff had left for the weekend and most people didn’t confess on a Friday. You walked into the church  and down the side aisle to where the confessional was. It was tucked into the side aisle just in front of the very altar rail you had knelt at and drenched your underwear earlier in the week. Your cheeks were bright red as you stepped into the booth and knelt down in front of the partition, there was a screen between you and him but you knew he was there. The smell of him lingered all around you. Tobacco, mint and the acrid metallic scent…what could that be? If you had to guess you’d say gunpowder but that made no sense to you. Your body reacted to his scent as if you were being touched by him again, your body clenched and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was…” You actually had to think about it for a moment, you had confessed at your church in college but that was over a year ago…was that the last time you had confessed? “Over a year ago,” You mumbled. You paused, unsure if you should just start or if he would say something else. 

“What are your sins, Cherub?” He knew it was you. He’d never say that to someone else. It would have been, “My child”. But no, cherub. You were taken aback by this breach in protocol and you didn’t speak for so long he cleared his throat, “We ain’t gettin’ any younger.” He said. “And your sins aint any closer to absolved,” You needed to speak and speak now, to get all this off of your chest so you could lay it to rest and forget it. 

“I’ve…been plagued with unholy desires, Father.” You said. You could hear him shift in the box next to you and you leaned your head forward, your forehead pressed to the screen separating you. “I’ve been having these intense…” Embarrassment made your cheeks flush, you fiddled with the hem of the skirt you wore today and you knew you had to keep going, “Sexual fantasies,” You blurted it out and you heard him let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t stop them but the thoughts are so intense…and wrong,” You said. You listened to his breathing while your own breathing quickened because the heady scent of him was doing something to you again. Your knees were aching from where they were pressed into the kneeler and your whole body felt tight and tense. 

“You been actin’ on these…fantasies?” He asked. Acting on them? Did an aborted masturbation attempt count as acting on them? In the eyes of the Lord, yes. You needed to admit it to him. 

“Yes, Father…I…I believe I have.” You said it even as you could feel that blooming, dripping heat fill your belly. 

“You believe you have, huh?” He asked, that mocking lilt colored his voice and another shiver crawled up your spine. While the shiver might have been caused by something unholy, it certainly was a good shiver. 

“I’ve touched myself because of these fantasies,” You admitted softly, your fingers still twisting the end of your skirt. “I was never able to…finish but it’s still a sin.” You told him taking a deep breath through your nose, you wondered if he was leaning in towards the screen too. You pulled your head back to look,  you could see bits of him through the latticed wood that created the screen that was supposedly there to protect anonymity.  

“Yea, Cherub, it sure is a sin.” He spoke and the words, his voice was like an injection of heat straight to your core. You had already practically leaked all over the altar rails at communion but now you were going to drip down your thighs in confession. “And I know what your penance should be,” he said. You let out a relieved breath, maybe if you did the penance you would be absolved and God would take the lust from your body. 

“Yes, Father. What should I do?” You asked. You heard Joel lean forward now, his voice was closer to the screen and the seat he was on creaked slightly. 

“You gotta reach your fingers under your skirt and touch yourself again, right here, right now.” His low voice sounded even more gravely than usual and the words burned through you. 

“F-Father?” You questioned, unsure if this could be possible. Your brain was already addled with lust, and this felt wrong but the temptation was so strong. 

“The only way we can absolve you of these sins is to complete them.” He insisted and you knew how wrong he was. Those shivers you felt were warnings of him. But how could you resist this? His voice was like a drug and that scent and the way you remembered the feeling of his fingers on your jaw, the pad of his thumb on your chin at communion, the ridge of his finger on the side of your tongue. “I want you to tell me just how wet you are, kneeling there before God,” Joel’s voice came to you through your lust filled fog and before you could think further you reached your hand up under your skirt and into your underwear. Your fingers immediately slipped over your soaked lips and you let out a gasp at the realization you had been soaking your underwear during the entirety of the confession. 

“Father, it’s…so wet.” You gasped, you heard movement again from his side of the confessional, the rustle of clothing and maybe the clinking of a belt being adjusted. 

“Get those knees nice and wide and stroke your lips for me,” Father Miller said, and you knew he was close to you leaned into the wood lattice screen. You could practically feel his breath. You did as you were told, kneeling a little wider and stroking your lips. You let out a squeak of pleasure, “Nice n’ slow, darlin’” His voice floated through the screen and your fingers slowly, painfully slow stroked along your puffy lips. 

“Oh God,” The words were ripped from you as the tips of your delicate fingers grazed your clitorus and your whole body throbbed. 

“Jus’ your lips, pretty girl, don’t touch that clit of yours.” The filth words coming from your priest's mouth only spurred you on. You wanted to ignore him and touch your clit again, but how had he known you had touched it in the first place? “Stroke down to your hole, cherub,” it was horribly disgusting and lewd to hear him talk like that but it still stoked a terrible fire inside you. You reached your hand farther down, sinking your butt back towards your feet as you knelt. Your finger found your entrance, the source of your wetness and you found yourself longing to push your finger into yourself. As if he heard your very thought Joel chuckled,

“Dont even think about fingerin’ yourself, little girl.” He said. A moan of desperation that matched any of the vulgarity he had spewed to you fell from your lips. “Tell me, cherub, is that a virgin cunt you’ve got over there? Or is there somethin’ else you need to be confessin’ to your Father?” he asked. Your fingers were tracing a circle around your soaked hole, trying to listen to him and not let your finger enter your body. 

“I’m a virgin, Father. Please…” You didn’t know what you were asking for with that please but it felt appropriate. Once you said that, there was a rush of movement and then the door to your side of the confessional was thrown open and Father Miller stood in front of you. You nearly toppled over from where you were kneeling, your hand still shoved into  your underwear.  He made a tsking sound, 

“Oh my little Virgin Mary,” his voice crawled up your spine like the shiver. “I’ve always known you were my good girl,” He reached down to where you were kneeling and wrapped his arm around your upper arm, pulling you up to stand. You gasped and he pulled you out of the confessional, his body moving your weight like it was nothing. His hand tightened on your arm as he pulled you into his body and then it dropped to around your waist and his mouth was on yours, kissing you. It was anything but a chaste kiss, his tongue lavished your mouth, circling yours while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you locked against his broad, strong body.  When he pulled away from you, you were gasping for breath and he let out a dark chuckle

“Oh, I am going to eat you up, Cherub.” It was a threat, but it made you pulse with need. Joel took your upper arms in his hands again, fingers digging in, “Let’s pray,” he said and he started to pull you over a few feet to the altar rail. In a sharp movement he pushed you down, bent at the waist over the rail, your feet pressed into the kneeler, you squealed in surprise, 

“Father!” You managed to squeak out.

“Let’s see this pretty cunt that’s causin’ you such problems, sweetheart.” Joel growled and with one hand shoved your skirt up and then ripped your undies down, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You whimper in shame and embarrassment. You were so close to the holy altar, staring up at the crucifix while your most private part was exposed to Father Joel Miller. He let out a laugh, as his hand came up to your ass, he grabbed the meat of it, digging his fingers in and spreading it enough to expose more of your pussy to him. 

“Ohhh there she is,” He breathed, he let out a low whistle, “So swollen, so wet.” The fingers of his other hand stroked down your wet lips and in response you spread your legs a little more. “Is that what you want, Cherub?” he asked. You nodded vigorously, completely lost in lust. Joel stroked along your lips up to your clit and he started to flick slow circles around it. Your moans started to echo as he worked you up. “That’s it, enjoy that sin, darlin,” he breathed, leaning over your back to whisper into your ear. You could feel his black button up pressed into your back while his fingers continued to circle around your clit, sending burning pleasure coursing through you. 

“P-please!” You begged, letting yourself go completely to the need for more. “God! Please!” You cried. 

“Please, what?” Joel asked into your ear, you could feel his stubble and mustache against your ear. His scent washed over you, intoxicating you further. 

“Please, I want you inside of me, Father!” You cried, you hadn’t even realized that was what you would say when you opened your mouth but it came tumbling out anyway. His fingers moved from your clit to your entrance where you were clenching on nothing, your cunt was begging for it regardless of what you said. His middle finger circled around your hole, not entering you but noticing how tight you were. Joel pulled back enough to look down at your pussy again, 

“You want me inside of your virgin pussy?” He asked, You nodded before letting your head hang down in shame, the shame of how much you needed it and how much you were willing to sacrifice for it. The temptation of him had been too much. You could feel his eyes on your fluttering sex while he started to ease his finger inside of you. He rocked his finger inside of you and you pressed yourself back against him. 

“Oh cherub, I can see that you’re a virgin.” He said, those greedy, dark eyes on you, still, even now, sending shivers up your spine. His finger had barely made it halfway inside of you when he tugged his finger away. You gasped at the loss and pressed yourself back towards him. 

“Father! No! Please!” You whined, wiggling your hips. 

“If your virginity is gunna be mine, I sure as hell am gunna take it with my cock.” Joel’s molten voice sizzled inside of you and the realization washed over you that you weren’t going to try to stop him, and you were about to be filled with his cock right here in the middle of the church. You heard the buckle of his belt and the shift of clothes, still leaned over the altar railing, legs spread wide, ready to for him to fully know you. 

Joel watched your pussy as he notched his thick cock against your hole, your inner lips were parting for him waiting for your cunt to accept him. 

“Joel,” you gasped his name for the first time as you fully understood what was about to happen. “Is it going to hurt?”You asked. 

“Well it ain’t goin’ to be a walk in the park at first, Cherub.” He said, and you could feel how thick his cock head felt at your entrance“But I think she’ll open up for me,” his voice had that mocking lilt to it again. Before you could say anything else he had started to push into you and the stretch was so much that the breath was completely knocked out of you. You lurched forward as his hips rocked into you. 

“Oh, that looks so good…pretty cunt splittin’ open for me.” He said and you knew he was watching the place where your bodies connected. He pressed himself forward again, forcing his way inside of you, making a spot for his thick cock in your tight hole. You let out a whine and he gripped your hips tugging you back more. “Atta girl, you’re takin’ my cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asked and all you could manage was a garbled moan in response. It did hurt some as he continued to ease himself in inch by thick inch but you were also completely drenched with slick that it was decently quick work to ease you open. 

“Father! Oh, its…so big!” You pressed your hips back, hoping to open yourself more to him. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, he was still for so long that you felt like you might go crazy with the need for friction. “Please…father…fuck me.” You gasped and that seemed to spur Joel on, he started to pull his cock back before shoving it back in, setting a brutal pace. Joels breath started to grow ragged with his own pleasure,

“Is that what you want, little girl?” He asked as his hips snapped forward to fill you over and over. “You want my cock to fuck you?” He asked. You nodded, still dazed. 

“I wanna hear you, Cherub. Confess to me, what do you want?” Joel bent forward over you, one hand snaking around you and grabbing your throat , fingers pressing into your jaw.  You moaned, unable to form a proper sentence as he pulled you back by your neck, making you look up at the altar in front of you. “Come on, let‘s hear that confession,” he said as his cock ruthlessly pummeled against your cervix, splitting you open more and more with each thrust. His other hand, the one not forcing you to look at the image of your savior, trailed down your belly and underneath your skirt. His middle finger found your clit, stroking it in those quick, flicking circles. Your body tensed against the feeling, tightening around his cock. He groaned into your cheek while he held you up with his hand on your neck. “Come on, tell me you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt.” He said. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, your eyes blurring with tears as you admitted it in front of him, and God all the same. “Yes, I want your cock to fuck me and I want to come!” You cried. 

“You want to come?” He asked, “Is that it, Cherub? You wanna come while confessin’ your sins right here in front of the holy altar?” his voice was strained and you could feel his thrusts becoming messier, harder as he chased his own orgasm. 

“Yes! Father! Please!” his finger stroked across your clit. 

“Come on my cock, Cherub. Let go for me,” He spoke the word into her cheek, your head turned to the side, leaning back into him. Your orgasm burst over you like white light, heat and shivers down your spine. He stroked your clit through it while his hips pumped his thick cock in and out of you, pulling mewls of pleasure out of. Your eyes opened and you watched the statue of the Virgin Mary while his cock pummeled your cervix and he released ropes of his hot spend inside of you. He groaned into your cheek, your body still back against him. Joel’s teeth caught your jaw, biting you briefly. 

As your breathing settled a little, Father Joel Miller pulled himself out of you. You felt his eyes on your completely destroyed pussy and his fingers briefly stroked at your entrance, gathering a generous amount of his sticky come onto his fingers before he lifted your underwear for you, covering you again. 

“Turn around, Cherub.” he instructed and you did, your face burning with the shame of what had just happened. Joel grabbed your jaw with one of his hands, “Open,” he said and you did what you were told, your tongue pressed out just a tiny bit, resting against your bottom lip. He brought the finger coated in his come that had been dripping out of you to your tongue and swiped across it. The salty, heady taste mixed with the scent of Father Joel Miller, Tobacco, mint, fresh sweat and the acrid burning metallic gunpowder smell. Shivers ran up and down your spine as you stood in front of the holy altar, bleary eyed and red cheeked. 

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

[clairyclue]

my thoughts on Majestic Rep’s RTC

it’s a lot sorry guys

tags: @jencattv @ray-winters @keatondj

(spoilers below the cut)

you can tell when ocean starts questioning her attitude and how conflicted she is, especially right after WTWN 

jane gets startled so easily poor baby

noel’s riffs are amazing!! (noel’s lament)

the choreo is awesome too!

mischa is a such a sweetie he genuinely cares so much about the other choir members 

mischa flipping ocean off before “i love you guys” haha

constance’s finger guns after “fornication” 

constance laughing at ocean out down jokes and then switching up is so funny 

i love oceans line delivery she’s like three seconds snapping i love it 

jane going from being able to move

fluidly during the songs to being stiff again she looks so confused every time 

ricky. just ricky ❤️

connie i thought the crystal meth joke was funny 

^^ i love all the dialogue in that scene i don’t remember it in original cast slime tuts 

fuck mischa’s adopted parents fr you can tell his anger is a defense mechanism because when he feels comfortable with the choir he’s so sweet!!

MISCHA FALTERING WHEN SAYING HES TALIAS FIANCÉ 

“THANK YOU FOR KILLING MY MOTHER AND INDIRECTLY KILLING ME” 💔💔💔

MY LIFE IS AWESOME 

(i’m gonna start categorizing by song now i don’t have much for WTWN and Noel’s Lament so)

jane dope 🔥🔥

mlia gives mad sibling karaoke vibes 

karna i see u bopping along 

the singing too is immaculate 

OK JANE i see u dropping it down 

TALIA

this mischa genuinely seems so into it he deserves so much credit in way of character work 

the way he gets all bashful during his Talia monologue 💓

background harmonies (constance is carrying and also i can hear her so well!!)

again riffs!! well done 

the choreo goes crazy!! this applies to all the songs tho 

the arms making a steeple 🥺😩

THE ENDING RIFFS 💔💔💔😩😩😩😭😭🥺🥺😞😞

the projection i’m gonna end it all 💔

MISCHA FUCKING CRYING INTO NOELS SHOULDER HELPHELPHELP and even once the dialogue moves on he’s still clinging to him and Noel rubs his back

“ocean why aren’t you talking right now it’s weird” (ricky in the bg: ☝️)

i love u connie awkwardness 

jane is so reactive to everything she hears like a little puppy 

“OKAY!! 😁😁😁😁” (autismo lore dump time)

oceans face when he’s explaining it 😀 to 🙁 to 😟

AND THEN SHE FUCKING MOANS U CATHOLIC FREAK (no offense to catholics reading this)

noel’s face me too bud 

ricky’s lore is kinda gross just because it wasn’t always this way. but sigh what can you do

SPACE AGE BACHELOR MAN:

ricky my little freak boy ❤️

spacedolls realness coming through 

“sure…😬”

rip ricky u would have loved therian tiktok 

little curtain face thing “it gets weird now :)” (•.•)

“THAT SON OF A BITCH !! 😡😡😡”

the emotion behind his lines the whole time tbh adds to the comedy (“i thought i told them !! 😕😕”)

the ending “b-b-b- bachelor man!” (“meow!!”)

we love u mischa hype man (again sweetest man alive)

constance’s “oh man!” was so agressive i loved it the one in the soundtrack seems so sad. this constance is less shy more awkward and i love it

THE BALLAD OF JANE DOE:

i know i know. but choreo. 

vocals!! ily jenna 

bg vocals as well!! 

the mixing 🥹

OK THE OPT UP????

the choreo at “a choir never complete” reminds me of the opening funeral scene from beetlejuice. definitely fits the vibe!

the borderline growl/anger in “and i’m asking why lord” yes!!!!

she sounds so desperate. crying. 

“does no one care?!” again the anger and emotion!

THE BG VOCALS AT THAT ONE PART SO GOOD THEYRE ANGRY FOR HER IT SEEMS 

the roller coaster. them being sucked back into it choreo wise. reverse looking. 

THE HIGH NOTES 💋💋💋

ocean being the one to put the birthday costume on means a lot to me. idk

ocean comforting her too 🥰🥰

janes birthday claps!

SNATCH !! 🧁🧁

ocean doing connie’s hair ❤️

savannah scene!! 

we don’t get to see it but i know the waltz is happening 

“ur ma best frand 💓“

^ and then ocean immediately snaps my heart again. 

“no you don’t ocean. 😕”

i understand oceans monologue she just. executed it badly. 

constance 😝 beat her ass girl 

“or they’ll call you a cow” baby. come here. 💔

constance. i get you. i get u connie baby. 

JAWBREAKER/SUGAR CLOUD:

oceans face ❤️ i don’t know how to describe it but she looks. proud. and her sitting almost re-evaluating everything in the back. (assuming)

ricky giving her the mic ❤️

HER GIGGLE

them scooting her around aghhhahahdhdbdheh

cloud props!

CONFETTI AND BALLOONS AND IM SMILING LIKE A FOOL

jane looks so happy with her ballon skipping around 🥹

the ending!! ILY CONSTANCE 

mischa helping her down awww

ocean and connie hug!!

can’t forget the nischa hug

ocean losing her voice inflection and sounding so genuine. so scared. so raw. 

janey when she gets chosen 🥹🥹

ocean and connie hug 2

JANE REACHING FOR RICKY SNDBDJWKDJDKF

ITS NOT A GAME/ITS JUST A RIDE

crying over the ending brb 

the slideshow will always get me 

something about the whole scene. houfhhhhhhh

“and you give and choose while you live and lose” and the lines preceding it get me 🥹

ARE THOSE REAL VIDEOS OF JENNA?!?!?!

KARNA SOUNDING LIKE THEYRE GONNA CRY

the first lines of it’s just a ride. no music. so raw sounding 🥹 the teary voices. the haphazard harmonies. 

ocean and mischa holding each other. big bro little sis 💓

“WOO!”

THEIR FREESTYLE DANCING! 

they’re having so much fun. they’re dead but they’re LIVING for the first time. 

all of the hand holding. my babes. 

[the-froschamethyst4]

Rosary

𖤐Pairing: Priest! Soap x Nun! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, a deep secret, nudity, sex in a Church, cam-girl, male and female masturbation, P in V, eating out, age gap (25-33), Sinners, more use of Johnny, breast play,

𖤐Summary: Two people have a deep secret one likes to be in front of the camera, while the other likes to be behind the computer screen and watch

————

————

10:20PM

No one was up or at least no one should be up. Father Johnny was up, lights had gone out around 10:00, he opens up his laptop that was stashed in the drawer in his nightstand next to his bed.

He plops on his bed, and laptop of course on his lap and he opens it turning on to a cam girl site, he scrolls down and finds the cam girl like likes to watch the most, to where he knows her schedule, the time she starts, and when the time she ends.

She usually starts at 10:00 or even early like 9, and ends within an hour or so. He sees her stream had started and joined in, she never shows her face just her chest down, and if she does happen to come on camera then she has a black face mask on only showing her eyes, but you could always imagine what faces she does make under the mask.

She starts off by whining, her seated with her legs behind her and sitting on her knees, hands messing with her thighs, she moves a toy under her briefly showing off her wet clit.

Johnny moans just a bit and fishing his cock out of his sweatpants just barely stroking his cock.

She slowly starts to grind her hips on it, moaning and moving her finger tips against her cold skin, sending shivers down her spine and hardening her nipples.

Johnny know what he is doing is wrong against God, but he can't help it, seeing this woman's body on full display for him, her hands groping her breasts and playing with her nipples with a few moans coming from her mouth and playing with her nipples some more.

Johnny grabs his dick and gives himself a few pumps, bucking his hips up into his hand, his finger going over the tip of his cock.

"Oh fuck," she mumbles. Her breathing was fast and her hips moving back and forth were also moving fast.

"Forgive me my Lord," Johnny says, looking up and kept jerking himself off and cursing under his breath. "Fuck, fuck," he moans.

The cam girl then moves off the toy she was grinding on, putting it aside and in the back Johnny could see something, a rosary hanging on the back of the room.

Then Johnny realize his favorite cam girl was a catholic.

-----------------

Next Morning 8:00AM

"Good morning everyone." Father Johnny says standing at the alter. "Today I want to go over...something that is considered a human desire. Sex or masturbation...it's a sin, I will never shame anyone who does do it, but...confessions are always open near my office...if you would like to talk about it please go to confessions to confess your sins. Other than that...let's pray and do our chores," Johnny says.

The nuns all bowed their head to pray, Johnny then looks at the new nun, she had arrived to his Church close to 3 months now. She's been quiet, hasn't gone to confessions, and she very much keeps to herself. Father Johnny has even asked for her to come visit him a few times, but never does.

Johnny looks down at her hand he sees a rosary, one that was very familiar to him, but it was such a common style of rosary, maybe it's not who he's thinking.

He clears his throat and walks to her, she stops and turns to face him.

"Yes, Father Johnny?" She bows her head and looks up at him.

"Please, Sister Y/n...come with me for a moment, I would like to speak with you," he says.

"My chores, sir?"

"I'll have Sister Olivia take over for you, please, follow me," he was gentle with her. Y/n never spoke out of term, got on anyone's bad side, and she was peaceful.

"Father Johnny, is there something you want to say?" She asks, looking up at him as they walked in the courtyard together.

"Yes...I...I was wondering, that rosary, it's passed down?"

"Yes, I found out my grandmother was a Nun, and I was given it to help me along this...journey." She says, rubbing the beads with her thumb and ran her thumb over the cross.

"Why are you here, Sister Y/n?"

"What do you mean, Father?"

"Excuse my words, I mean. Why are you here in the Church? Why did you want to become a Nun all of a sudden? You have no bad record, your family isn't part of the Church, you are...a sweet girl already but yet...you are here? Why?"

"I...I'm not sure," she says, looking down. "It felt like I needed to be here, but then...I...don't really want to be here at the same time."

"I don't think I understand, do you have...another passion?" Johnny was getting to the point now, what was the point, he doesn't know. He doesn't want to push her and it's not her, it's not the woman he sees on his laptop screen.

"No, no, I don't, I don't have another passion," she was quick with the answer and seemed nervous.

"I wasn't trying to push you into...any sort of confession, why so quick with a response?"

"Because I feel like I'm being interrogated like I did something bad," her face was red with frustration.

"Hey now, it's okay-"

"No..." Her fist were balled and clenched onto her skirt. She admits a deep breath and un-balls her hands. "Excuse me father but I must go," she says, standing up and heading off.

Johnny was left on the bench confused but also...intrigued, he shouldn't pry but he feels like he needs to know more, more about Y/n.

------------------

10:00PM

Night had rolled around, Johnny was walking around making sure all the Nuns were heading to their quarters for the night, he sees Y/n at the end of the hall, she looks at him and scurries away. Maybe he did push her a little too far.

He walks down the hall only catching a glimpse before she shuts the door, her room...

*Slam*

"Fuck," he mumbles under his breath. Her room matches the woman's room. It was the same layout, same everything, but only if you put some purple LED lights on, but it was her...

Y/n takes off her habit, putting it in the dirty hamper and setting her new one for tomorrow, she walks around her bedroom only in her bra and panties, setting her rosary on the doorknob to her closet. Her laptop was shut but she opens it up.

Going to the website where she does her cams, logging in and turning on her camera, pointing it down only showing her chest down, she starts her live, but not before putting in a title to get clicks and people into her live.

Title: You come home from a rough day at work

Y/n sits on her knees, palms resting in her chest, smoothly running down her chest, pulling at her bra and her breasts fall out with a few small bounces. She let's out a soft moan and plays with her nipples to make them harden.

"I hope you had a good day," she softly saying into the mic almost ASMR style. She bites her bottom lip while reaching over behind her laptop on purpose putting her boobs in front of the camera to grab a dildo.

Johnny watches with his hands interlocked together over his mouth as he just watches...no masturbating tonight, he just watches on how this, innocent looking, quiet, gentle girl could be doing something like this when night happens.

Her legs were propped up giving you a good view of her wet clit and the dildo sliding in like it was nothing, she first starts out slow, letting out a few moans as her free hand gropes her breasts. Putting her head back and starts moving the toy a bit faster now.

Johnny wanted to go in there and just take her for himself, but he didn't want to embarrass her. So, he held back but he knew who she was now.

------------------

Watching her in the courtyard from his office window, he felt like he knew her dirty secret and he did.

Y/n could feel eyes on her, she looks up seeing Johnny in his office but quickly looked away from him. She starts packing her things up and heads back inside.

"Sister Y/n. Father Johnny would like to see you-"

"Oh no, I have to pray-"

"He said, you can pray afterwards, he wants to see you now," Mother Sarah says while leaving Y/n.

Standing outside his office door felt wrong, like she needed someone to be in there and witness something, she knocks on the door and here's a deep come in from Johnny. She comes in, announces herself and sits down on one of Johnny's leather chairs in front of his desk.

"Y-You wanted to see me?" She asked, looking at him as he was still near the window.

"I want to ask you...a few questions, Sister Y/n."

"O-Okay?" Johnny sits behind his desk and opens his laptop with something already pulled up, screenshots of Y/n.

"FATHER JOHN-"

"Is this you?" He ask.

"W-What is this? A-Are you going to k-kick me from the Church? How d-did you even get that?" She asked him questions. "That is highly inappropriate-"

"That's coming from someone who is on the internet showing off everything about her," he titles his head. "Sister Y/n, I'm not mad about it, nor will I kick you from the Church-"

"So, what you're going to blackmail me now, if I don't have sex with you because of this, you found my cam page, so what-"

"Oh how the attitude switches...no, Sister Y/n, I would never blackmail someone over something like this," he shuts his laptop.

"Okay, and?"

"And...I do want one thing-"

"Blackmail," she says.

"No, it's not going to be blackmail," he says, shaking his head. "I want to appear in one...one cam show-"

"ARE YOU CRAZY!!? You know what, no, I don't need you to kick me from the Church, I'll be leaving on my own terms."

"And go where, Sister Y/n? The next Church will even ask you why'd you leave this one, what will be your excuse? My Priest found my cam show and I've deiced to leave?"

"No, it was going to be, my Priest was a pervert and mocked me when I didn't have sex with him! I will be leaving!" She storms out of his office as Johnny was calm...why was he calm?

-------------------

Marching to her room, Y/n slams her door grabbing her pillow from her bed and screaming into it, her muffled scream soon died down as she throws the pillow now. She hates him, she fucking hates him.

"Dumb Priest, you are going to blackmail, I know it. That's how you men are!" She points to a random picture in her room and yells at it treating it as if it was Father Johnny. Grabbing that same pillow to scream in it again. "Dammit!" She yells tossing the pillow again.

Y/n starts grabbing a suitcase to stuff everything into, she grabs her clothes first stuffing them inside and sitting on her suitcase to make more room for her other things like bathroom stuff, shoes, then she'll come back with boxes to stuff the rest in.

"Fuck him, fuck that annoying...dumbass...handsome...blue eyed...man," she starts trailing now. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no? Why the hell am I thinking about him? No, no, stop it, Y/n, stop it, you want to leave, you need to leave...but he'll be sad, won't he? Fuck me!" She tossed a pair of shoes at her door and fell on her back, annoyed and pissed off.

------------------

Johnny was still in his office writing emails and thinking about tomorrows sermon, as he typed there was a knock at his door.

"Come in," he says. The door opens, he looks up from his laptop. "Sister Y/n? W-What are you doing here?" He asks, closing his laptop.

She doesn't say anything, she grabs the her skirt and slowly lifts up.

"Sister-" before any other word was said, Johnny gets a good look at her, her bare smooth, probably soft pussy was on fully display for him. "Y/n?"

"I'm sorry?" She questions.

"You're sorry...for what?" He asks. She doesn't say anything, she drops her skirt and kicks the door closed, she walks to him, sitting on his desk and closing his laptop.

She lifts again and Johnny just looks down smirking, he grabs her thigh giving her pussy a good look some more.

"Is this...a gift?" He teased, looking up at her face, she was red to the face, and looked embarrassed. "What just happened to the girl that gave me attitude?" He asked, this time he moves her onto his desk and places her right in front of her.

Her skirt still lifted up. His hands gliding on her thighs, and his fingers gently spread her wet folds open, he sees where she was already messing with herself before coming to his office. Pre cum leaking from her and slowly landing on his desk.

He just smirks licking his lips, and moving down on her, his tongue licking between her folds, she let's out a soft moan, her hand going to his hair.

"Ah! F-Fuck," she moans.

"Such language in a Church," he smirks.

"I-I only curse when I-I feel g-good," she confesses.

"Your first confession."

"N-Not funny, just k-keep going," she moans, her thighs squeezing around his head when she felt good. He smirks and his tongue starts dancing around, licking her, pushing into her and making the wettest, sloppiest sounds ever made in the office.

Slipping her up and thrusting his tongue in and out of her, she puts her head back and moans before coming into his mouth, he smirks cleaning up all of her juices leaking from her.

He groans and then he stood up standing between her thighs, he starts unbuckling his pants and Y/n helps him, pulling out his dick and giving him a few pumps.

Y/n was pushed on her back and Johnny aligns himself up at her entrance, slowly pushing in. She falls on her back, Johnny bends down kissing her neck and then her lips.

He rocks his body a bit slow and then slowly starts picking up speed. His hands slam on the desk trapping her against him and the desk.

"Holy fuck," she says. It's been too long since Y/n has been properly fucked by a man and not a random dildo. Y/n has one that was considered "life size" but it didn't feel real since she's on Johnny's dick now.

Johnny pulls her to be on his lap now while he sits on his chair, his hands plant on her ass and starts slowly bouncing up and down on his dick.

"That's it fucking hell," Johnny says, putting his head back, while Y/n puts her hands on his shoulders and smiles down at him.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum again," she moans out, while Johnny smirks and starts making her bounce at an ungodly pace. Moans, skin slapping, groans and the sound of a hand colliding on her ass filled the room. Giving out one last moan, Y/n ended up coming.

Her forehead rested on his shoulder, she bites on his shoulder as he slowly raised her butt and his cock falls out and cum leaks from his tip.

"Ahh~ shit," he moans out.

---------------

Aftercare felt weird and impossible. Johnny wanted Y/n to have a bath but she said she'll do it when she gets to her room. She didn't want to be pampered by Johnny, she just wanted to go back to her room, do everything on her own like she always does.

"Y/n let me clean you up."

"No, I'm okay, I'll do everything," she was use to it, knowing what she likes to have happen to her after sex or even masturbating, she didn't want him to do anything.

"Y/n," she was then picked up off the ground and taken to his bathroom, she was set on his bathroom counter as he starts a hot shower. "I want you to take a bath and relax, when you're done let me know, and I'll get you back to your room unseen, okay?"

"Fine."

------------------

Getting out of the shower Y/n had a towel around her body and changed from the towel to some extra clothes Johnny had laying around.

"Father Johnny," she says. "I'm ready to head back to my room," she says.

"Alright," Johnny was in his normal clothes t-shirt and sweatpants and they both headed to Y/n's bedroom.

Y/n opened her bedroom door and heads inside.

"Thanks, Father Johnny."

"For walking for back to your room?"

"For everything, really," she says.

"Everything?"

"You're not...a pervert, I don't know why I said that, I think I was angry with you, but like you said, I put myself out there might as well expect that to happen," she says. "Anyways...good night."

"Good night, Sister Y/n." She shuts the door quietly and gently. "Goddamn," he says, walking back to his office.

"Dammit," Y/n says, sliding down her door.

[michealsbiggestfan]

🄶🅁🄴🄶🄾🅁🅈 🄱🄴🄻🄻🄰🅁🄾🅂🄴 ⚔️ 🅇 🅁🄴🄰🄳🄴🅁 🄷🄴🄰🄳🄲🄰🄽🄽🄾🄽🅂

genre: fluff + lemon

gender: female

warnings ⚠️

nsfw + vulgarity

ᡣ𐭩

when gregory first met you, honestly, he wasnt interested.

you were around 9-10, and he had a crush on wendy around that time.

well, that was until she pulled the “fuck him in the ear!” card, which left him speechless.

he had always thought of wendy as a sweet, innocent girl. he was incredibly wrong in that assumption, and regretted ever being there for her during the war once she said that.

which… kinda raised his annoyance with stan. but he wasnt about to ditch christophe just because he didn’t like this town.

so he stayed, and a couple of years went by without either of you ever knowing of eachothers existence. that was until the day that your science teacher paired you both up for a project, considering you and him were on the highest level in the class.

he was still better than you, though 😛

you both decided to meet at your house, and when gregory turned up and met your parents OH they loved him.

at first he kinda annoyed you since he charmed your parents and had a pretty big ego that weighed the same as an elephant on the back of another elephant, but by the time you finished the project, you started to like him as a friend.

you slowly but surely became friends and he would walk you to your locker and classes everyday, checking in on you, greeting you politely, and letting you sit with him and christophe.

he even shielded you from the smoke coming from delorne’s cigs, preventing you from getting second-hand smoke 🙂👍

after a few months, it started getting more romantic.

hand kisses, forehead kisses, buying you your lunch, visiting you and your parents daily, calling you things like “dear” and “love”, holding your hand and even holding you by your hips.

“No, we’re just friends.”

“Mhm, just friends.”

and then you both politely smile at the group of confused girls from your classes.

one day, your parents weren’t home so you invited him over for a movie night, which went both good and unexpected.

since there was a TV in your bedroom, you were on your bed. about 20 minutes into the romance movie when he suddenly started to rub your thigh gently.

“.. Greg, what are you doing?”

your hand would slowly go over his in an attempt to shift it away, but he instead moved his hand off of your thigh to hold yours.

“Showing my platonic love.”

“Platonic love? Love and platonic are opposites.”

“Are they?”

he clearly wasnt paying much attention considering the fact he just let go of your hand to use his curled pointy finger to stroke some hair away from your cheek.

“.. Greg..”

“Mm.”

he would slowly move closer to you and glance down at your lips before back at your eyes, using his thumb and previous finger to lift your chin up.

“May I platonically kiss you?”

nsfw warning ⚠️

one kiss became a makeout session and a makeout session eventually became a “let’s take our clothes off” session.

you were still trying to convince yourself you were just “making platonic love” but clearly you both loved eachother.

the look on his face as he straddled you and thrusted with such soft groans escaping his throat proved his love for you.

and the way you gazed up at him as he pleasured you so well also proved your love for him.

your moans and his groans kept being cut off by you both kissing, the main sound in the room just being the sound of skin slapping against skin.

his usually-slicked-back hair was messy and down now, stray strands hanging down, and you were just a moaning mess.

the feeling of his big cock moving in and out of you was just intoxicating to your sensitive little pussy, but honestly, after this, you would spread your legs and let him rail you anytime he wants.

he felt guilty, considering he was a catholic, and catholics shouldn’t have sex before marriage, but this was too tempting and too sweet of a feeling for him to deny.

“.. o-oh my.. oh.. l-lords please f-forgive me.. a-aaah.. o-oh dear..”

his whimpers honestly just made it 10x more pleasurable for you.

but overall, he’s a sweetheart to you. always take you on dates, which he pays for, and will never let anything harm you.

he even squished a bee in between his pointy finger and thumb because you got scared.

isn’t he lovely? ☺️

[jeksburyofficial]

Dandies In Danger continues to floor me with each new episode. It's so cool seeing how the horror and stakes are steadily rising with each arc, it's so so so good!

Spoilers beneath the read more!

The Boar Demon is such a frightening and amazing concept. Also, as soon as it was made clear she's a more cunning, healing being, I instantly went from being disgusted by her description to thinking 'oh, there is beauty in the grotesque'. Maybe that's just my love of morally grey/evil women but I think Boar Demon should get to tear Lord Bush limb from limb and then fuck off into the shadows to do whatever she does, as a treat.

On the topic of the Boar Demon, if Zachary ends up making a pact with her as well for some reason, Liam is going to Lose It. Poor little Catholic boy, his small friend keeps playing Pokémon with the local demons.

Glad to see Daniel's alive and semi-well, massively concerned for Adrian's Green Illness. Also God the dog moment was tense, please don't kill that old woman. Again, poor Liam, just being dropped into the middle of all that, and presumably being bitten by the invisi-dog at the end there. Please don't die, dorito man!

Overall, I'm frothing at the mouth for the next episode! Can't wait to hear the bloopers for this arc as well!

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Get to know your moots

Thank you, @virtie333! for the tag, this is long and looks like fun!

What's the origin of your blog title? Ophelia because I fell in love with everything Hamlet when I first watched Sir Kenneth Branagh's '96 adaptation back in like '11 or '12. And I love handsome men. Easy as that!

OTP(s) + Shipname: uhm with shipnames? ( rummages around)...okay, think I found them! Anne Shirley & Gilbert Blythe ( Annebert) , Faramir & Éowyn ( Farawyn) , Queen Victoria & Lord Melbourne ( Vicbourne) , Anastasia * Anya* Romanov & Gleb Vaganov ( Glenya)

Favourite colour: A really good Navy Blue! Also sunset yellow and a mossy deep dark forest green!

Favourite game: Nintendo Donkey Kong 3 for video games, Mille Bornes for card games, World Wise for board games, tricking people for real games...

Song stuck in your head: ( oh hell) The Monarch Song from Horrible Histories. Really catchy!

Weirdest habit/trait? Weeellll, I bet everything I do is considered a weird habit by the majority of the populace, but it's probably the fact that I eat oddball things like the eggshells on boiled eggs and the paper on muffins and things like that.

Hobbies: Fiber crafts, woodworking, growing plants, beekeeping, playing the piano, writing fanfics, obsessing over historical fashions, reading history books, reading historical fiction/romance novels

If you work, what's your profession? oh geez, I can't really disclose that. Has to do with wee bairns. And farming.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Acting on stage at the Globe Theatre in London.

Something you're good at: Being a walking encyclopedia and playing music. Also flying by the seat of my pants through life.

Something you're bad at: Dealing with people, dealing with stupid people. And yes, though rare, they do very much exist.

Something you love: Music, history, the Catholic Faith, trees, Midsummer Bonfires, dark haired men*gulps*, restoration era English royalty.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Why monarchies are actually still a better way of ruling, over democracies and republics and all that 20th century bullshite... Also herbalism, history in general, and cinema!

Something you hate: Puritanism, Gnosticism, Satanism, the healthcare system of North America, Communism, Nazism,( fascists are on thin ice) how loud Americans( not yours truly who has been tagged of course) tend to be online, the visceral misunderstanding protestants have about Catholicism/Orthodoxy, the Canadian government, the way americans treat canadians like dirt( at least the americans I met in real life)

Something you collect: Wool blankets, antiques, CDs and DVDs, enamel pots and pans

Something you forget: I get distracted easily, but my memory is scary long and accurate. I mainly forget where my wallet is.

What's your love language? Sex

Favourite movie/show: Oh come on I can't pick one! *grumbles* I pick The Lord of the Rings trilogy and M*A*S*H

Favourite food: Hominy corn with butter and Anglo-Saxon Oatcakes with apples

Favourite animal: Moose and Musk Ox. Would 100% ride them if I could. Also sheep.

What were you like as a child? Daydreaming and very idealistic. Also read a lot of trashy 70s romance novels.

Favourite subject at school? History, as well as religious studies.

Least favorite subject? Algebra. Even though I was actually really good at it. Still hated it.

What's your best character trait? Super helpful.

What's your worst character trait? I can be pretentious as fuck if I feel like it and nothing will stop me. Bit too much of a non-conformist.

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? That I hadn't spilt the damned milk.

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet? St. Joan of Arc and King Charles II of England , Scotland and Ireland. Preferably at the same time, that would be a hoot. He would pretend not to understand her french as she would absolutely rip him a new one about his mistresses and I would enjoy the show whilst being starstruck!

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!): Oh! Here's one! ( or two...)

and

no pressure tags are: @thekenobee and @russell-crowe and @smolgreybunny

[strangedreamings]

S2E2 (spoilers abound)

They found Blood but not Cheese, just like the book.

Otto is being completely callous about using Jaehaerys as propaganda, Aegon II looks ready to chop his damn head off, and Alicent just fucking stands there, doing nothing. Shut your father up! Comfort your son!

At least Aegon II called out Criston for not doing his duty. Worst kingsguard commander ever.

Oh God. Not only are they going through with this heartless funeral procession, Otto wants Alicent and Helaena to follow the body. Fuck you, Otto. I hope you have the most painful GoT franchise death since Oberyn Martell.

Hug your daughter, Alicent! Fuck, she truly is a shit mother.

Oh dear fucking God, someone had Jaehaerys' head sewn back onto his body and they're making Helaena look at it this whole procession. Where's the silver shroud we've seen at every other Targ funeral?

Oh God, the carriage with the body is stuck and they're having to rock it back and forth to free it. Jaehaerys' head is going to roll a second time, I just know it.

Thank God that didn't happen, Helaena would've fainted, I'm sure.

Now Rhaenyra's getting blamed, Daemon's denying the "son for a son" thing, and there goes their marriage.

Hi, Baela! The writers are finally giving you something to do, yay!!! Now if they could just do the same for your sister.

There goes Daemon and Caraxes. All hail Ramin, the music this episode has been top-notch.

At least fucking say something to your wife, Aegon.

Servants are taking Jaehaerys' bed apart as Criston looks on all sad. Fuck you, Cole. This is on you. (And Daemon, mostly Daemon, but Criston is definitely not completely innocent in this, fuck any TG fans who say otherwise.)

Rhaenyra playing with her two youngest. The boys are so cute!

"There is none for what I've done." Ah, so you do have a brain, Criston. I was beginning to wonder. I saw a bingo card in the show tags that included "Catholic guilt" as a square. That person called it beautifully.

Criston, go fuck Alicent again because you obviously need a fix if you're being this surly. Let the man eat. Again, treating people badly is how you turn them into turncloaks.

"The white cloak is a symbol of our purity, our fidelity." Then your cloak should be fucking black, Criston. "Where were you when Jaehaerys was murdered?" WHERE WERE YOU, COLE? Oh yeah -- FUCKING THE KID'S GRANDMOTHER.

"Where were you, Lord Commander?' I want to capture Criston's "deer in the headlights" expression and make it my lockscreen until the end of time.

"and then the young prince is murdered on your watch." You are so full of shit, Cole, that I'm surprised people aren't complaining about the smell.

"You are mad." He truly does look fucking unhinged. Cole, you've lost your damn mind. (Fabien is fucking KILLING IT this season.)

(God, the Butcher's Ball cannot come soon enough. I believe this is still 129 AC, so next season, then.)

"Or to triumph. And glory." Arryk, don't listen to him, he's clearly insane, you can see it in his eyes.

Jace and Baela. At least he doesn't get offended when she brings up Harwin.

Great, Aemond's ego has gotten bigger, just what we needed. Lord, he's skinny. Just muscle and bone, no fat on him.

Can I just be shallow for a moment? The Hull Brothers are HOT.

Why is Daemon's title "king consort" and not "prince consort"? (Matt Smith is making a career out of playing the husbands of queens.)

I do love Corlys and Rhaenys flirting in the middle of this serious talk. They're so good together. (I just have a suspicion Rook's Rest is at this season's halfway point.)

Emma is also killing it this season. I hope that their next role is something other than a grieving mother, they're a little too good at it, it's heartbreaking.

SEASMOKE?!

"... and curse your name." I fucking hate it when Otto has a point. Aegon II doesn't consider any consequences at all. But then, look who's guiding him -- Cole.

"And what has Ser Criston Cole done?" Nothing good, that's for sure.

Why do the highborn men's and women's costumes look like they're from different centuries?

"Fuck dignity!" That's it, that's the show.

(Tom's killing it too. Can someone please put him in a rom-com? I want to see him play a sweet guy in love.)

"Give it to Cole." Criston looks at him like, "The fuck you say?" Don't do it, Otto.

"My new Hand will be a steel fist." We all know what he can do with those steel fists.

Criston has been in over his head from the moment he met Rhaenyra, this is nothing new.

Good on you, Mysaria, for being able to tell the Cargyll twins apart. Hey, if she can keep them from killing each other, more power to her.

Oh great, we've got the Cargyll twins' fight in the middle of Rhaenyra's bedchamber with Rhaenyra and Elinda Massey caught in the middle. I'm pretty sure this isn't how this scene goes in the book.

Oh good, nobody dies but the twins, that's in the book. (Elinda's ultimate fate isn't happy but that's still coming.)

It's about FUCKING TIME that somebody mentioned Daeron. This child has literally not existed until this moment, I swear.

"I have sinned." Alicent, Otto a self-righteous ass but he is nowhere near a priest.

"I do not wish to hear of it." Otto says, "Leave me out of your drama, girl, I've got enough messes to deal with."

COMFORT YOUR SON, ALICENT! You are an absolute shit mother, especially compared to Rhaenyra.

Must we waste screentime on Alicole? They deserve each other, sure, but only because they are both UTTER FAILURES!

The preview makes it look like Rook's Rest is next week, I was expect the week after. Interesting.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 2 - Side B

John Gaius art cred @exmakina

Propaganda below ⬇️

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

John

book quote from the chapters where he's relating how he got necromantic powers and people freaked out!! this is pre-apocalypse and resurrection so it's implied he took a lot of inspiration from this incident . He said, Then we took off. Thread after thread on message board after message board. People wanting proof. People asking what the fuck it meant. People talking about the LUCIFER telescope and saying we were aliens. People calling me the Antichrist, which was a trip. People writing up these long posts on how the trick was done, how I got the meat into the pie. Was I fake? Was I real? If I was real, what did it mean? Suddenly there were hundreds of people, all there at our front door. They came in caravans, they were sleeping in their cars or putting up tents. A hell of a lot of them had flown out internationally. He said, Some of them wanted to see the miracle. Some of them wanted my help, like, Oh, you’re the magical death man, can you do something about my body? Can you fix my fibromyalgia? Thing was, I could. That surprised me. I could take out their tumours. I could fix their macular degeneration. Big damage was easy, unless they’d actually lost the limb or whatever. Couldn’t grow those back. But I spent hours and hours a day playing Jesus. That was nice, those were some of the nicest hours I got to spend. He said, But when you’re doing the whole Go, my child, your knee cartilage is fixed, you’re going to get a lot of visitors. I had to turn people away because I had to eat, I had to sleep, even though I didn’t want to. M— had brought in her best friend, the nun, and I was worried I was going to get the Antichrist bit from her too, but she was just like: stop doing this! Read your Bible! This was Christ’s whole problem! I was like, What are you talking about, Jesus cured the lepers and everyone was all, Hooray, thanks man. M—’s nun was all, Are you kidding, Christ never said no and never asked anyone to pay and got way too much attention and brought the heat down on everybody. Christ didn’t keep to office hours, she said. Don’t do that. He said, So we limited Jesus stuff to one hour a day, and I always had to eat breakfast. But by then the whole world was on our doorstep.

look this is kind of weird but he is the only survivor after nuclear bombs destroy the earth and he has weird necromancy powers so he revives his friends and a few other people to be his subjects and basically makes himself a god to them. there's a lot of layers since he's literally the only character in the entire series who remembers the world before and has a concept of the religion he's copying for his own. he treats the other characters like toys he can push around for his own amusement and everything is a joke but he does this world-weary act that somehow gets the reader to kind of feel for him even when he's being atrocious. and he's the only one who remembers memes. which is a torture all of its own.

I said "yes" but to be more clear: he was canonically Catholic when he was still mortal, but that was 10,000 years ago and he kind of killed everybody on the planet. Just slightly. Some of them got better. Now he's the Emperor Undying and his empire is very Catholic-coded.

OP note: I got some replies saying he's not actually canonically catholic and this is "as Catholic" as he gets

[shadowsandsunset]

Spoilers for s7e5 9-1-1 under cut:

So I'm watching live and I am missing parts because of a tornado warning but:

Opening? Funny as hell. Poor Eddie. His poor balls.

Karen and Hen preparing for a baby with Chim and Maddie and then not getting a baby? But a little girl age 9? Interesting.

Buck being awkward and closeted with Tommy.

Eddie interrupting? Marisol moving in? Ooooof.

Tommy being like "I don't think you're ready" ow my heart. He's absolutely right to do so. Love Tommy!

Hen and Karen meeting the little girl.

Tornado warning. Ugh. Btw, I'm out of the path of the tornado warning, it's further south of me but I'm getting the warning anyway.

Buck going to Maddie for advice and then playing the pronoun game "this person".

Maddie catching on... "Now you're more than an ally"

Then.... "it's the same Tommy... Eddie's friend..." With a frankly judgy stare Lmfao

Maddie is giving good advice even if taken off guard but being supportive like we knew she would be. Maddie is awesome.

Then Eddie and Marisol in bed in the next scene...her boxes everywhere.

Also hello shirtless Eddie, welcome back, good to see ya.

Marisol was almost a fucking Nun??? Eddie making jokes about being spanked...

Back to the little traumatized girl with Hen and Karen. Karen and Hen are such good moms. This poor kid tho. I don't know what has happened to this kid but goddamn, my heart.

Ooh Buck what are you doing with Eddie... Eddie is being weird about the nun thing lol and talking about his reservoir of Catholic guilt

"like sea monkeys" "no"

Something something tornado warning

"I haven't been able to...you know...since I found out"

"which is why you're so pent up"

Buck backing out of telling Eddie about his recent sexual exploration...

Hen and Cap talking about the traumatized girl. This is heartbreaking. The whole situation is heartbreaking. Poor Denny, he's such a a good kid. But like...why isn't this girl in therapy of some sort? Shit. Like...shit. I hate the US healthcare system. But something is going on and like...idk.

Again, this tornado warning is annoying. I'm missing half the convos and my closed captions aren't working properly.

Hen and Karen are struggling, which I understand, and I think they're trying but with cases like this...

Now Eddie and Cap are talking about Marisol... And his commitment issues... I swear to God Cap was going to say "military, your job, ... Buck" lmfao

"I would probably go to confession, wouldn't want to get on her ex's bad side...the Lord"

Dog attack? Parallels to the little girl? Ooh, heavy handed metaphors...

Wait, does Hen just know dog CPR? Cool.

Oh yay, the dog doesn't die! Hen is now committed to helping the little girl.

Mara is the little girl's name, Athena is helping... The girl's parents were criminals, died to OD. The girl called 911. This poor kid.

Buck and Eddie... Ooof. I'm not spoiling this. I love you all. Ok.

I will say Eddie didn't seem super surprised about it but the fucking tornado warning drowned out half of the scene. I am pissed. I'm going to have to rewatch this later.

Buck is the cutest little bisexual and I love him. I really do.

Eddie...and Marisol. Nuns. Moving In. Not moving in. Blah blah don't care. Sorry not sorry.

More with this new kid and Karen. God, Hen is lucky AF. Karen is amazing and I want to marry her.

Buck and Tommy! Yes. Yessss. Awwww. I love them. Buck is growing up! Tommy is fucking amazing. He's so gentle and kind and and awwwww.

The boys showing up for the wedding like that... lmfao. Omg. We gotta wait two weeks for The Hangover: 9-1-1 edition.

This episode is not what we wanted for Buddie but uh... There is still time? Maybe? There's always fanfiction.

Also? Tommy? I like him. I hope we keep him.

Also? Friendship is never a consolation prize. If they ever end up together or not, the love is there and that matters. The love always matters.

[emjee]

do you have any thoughts on veiling? i’m catholic, so veils tend to be….. extremely linked to things i don’t want to associate with. but i am kind of passively interested in it as an outward sign of my purpose in certain moments of reverence

Oh boy do I ever! I totally know what you mean though; when I was first investigating veiling myself I mostly found resources from very conservative Roman Catholic sources that had me going "ahaha no <3" Once when I was attending an Anglo-Catholic parish in grad school a man I had never seen before in my life grabbed my hand on the way out of church and gestured to my veil and told me it was "good to see someone doing things the proper way." I did not tell him to fuck off because I was in the House of the Lord and all that, but he had no idea what he was talking about.

I became interested in veiling when I was in college for similar reasons that you mention--I like tangible things that help direct my focus or intention in moments of reverence or spiritual concentration (I'm also a big fan of prayer beads, icons, stained glass, etc for this reason). I decided to first try it on a school trip abroad, just in a kind of "wear a scarf everywhere and when you go into a church, pull it over your head" kind of way, and I really liked it, and ended up having some really lovely conversations with a Muslim classmate on that trip about the differences between hijab (which she wore) and veiling in church, but also the similarities in terms of outward signs of inward spiritual dispositions.

What also helped is that I attend an Episcopal church where some women cover their heads--not with chapel veils, but with dupattas or headwraps or hats or because they're habited nuns. So I felt like less of an outlier and more like someone who was participating in a tradition that was still happening around me, but wasn't a requirement. I just needed to find the form that was right for me.

My dad also reminded me that my grandmother and aunt used to wear chapel caps and kept one in every handbag in case they had to run by church for altar guild. I actually ended up inheriting my grandmother's chapel cap and that's the one I wore consistently when I first started veiling, until it disappeared when I was in graduate school. Since then I've inherited caps from older women at my church who were happy to pass them on to me, and I've also received many dupattas from my church aunties who are happy to see me use them as a veil. During the choir season I wear a brown lace veil that matches my hair.

While I tried to do a lot of research when I first started out, and read the passages from St. Paul that some folks like to cite when talking about veiling, I've ultimately made my own meaning (derived from tradition) about it. Veiling for me is tied to the presence of the Blessed Sacrament* (I believe wholeheartedly in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist) so it's partly a sign of reverence, but also partly a way to set aside time in church as different from other times. That's why I'm also going to start veiling when I say my prayers at home (a tradition supported by practice in various parts of the world), to help me concentrate and set that time apart from other times.

*Fun fact, for this reason I don't veil on Good Friday! By the time the service is over there is no Sacrament left in the building.

I find it to be a really joyful and fulfilling practice. Also, not gonna lie, scarves are pretty, and matching scarves to Sunday outfits is fun.

Thank you for asking this, I am literally always down to talk about it.

[bengiyo]

Shadow Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Dan transferred to this all-male Catholic school, where he's been immediately singled out for using the same desk as a student who disappeared and is presumed dead. He befriends Nai, who is being bullied for his apparent queerness, and Josh, Nai’s friend who has a lot of contraband goods. Dan has been haunted his whole life by a shadow that appears in his sleep, and it seems Nai can see it. We left at them going to the lake and both experiencing some sort of strange phenomenon.

@yankeebastard is watching with me and said plainly that he would leave me if I didn't wake my ass up with some creepy shit going on.

Episode 2: Nai

I'm not surprised Nai is trying to take the blame for this.

Now what the fuck is this time jump and hypnosis shit.

What the hell is happening to Dan??

Thai brooms and mops look so much to be desired.

Dan’s story is sad, and I'm curious what the intersection or psychology and faith will reveal later.

I like watching Singto and Fluke work together.

How dare he spit on those imported UNO cards.

Wow, this teacher sucks. Just ignore the boys’ targeted harassment, and then telling Nai to stay away from him. She's awful.

She ruined a wound tending opportunity. I will never forgive her.

Never mind! Dan said fuck that and fuck her! We got it, boys!

Fluke is so beautiful in these sunny flashbacks.

They gave Anan that look back. Is he dead???

WORSE. HE STARTED THE HOMOPHOBIC BULLYING.

This is horrible.

Hm, why is the Shadow appearing as Trin?

Do Trin was outed as well.

Well, it wouldn't be a Thai BL-adjacent project without them making the boys sing, but I like a queer character and his new ally bonding over a song.

Oh lord he done fell asleep again in the middle of the day.

Okay! I'm enjoying the layers of homophobia displayed here, and how in all cases a character is outed and then blamed for their own suffering. Something is going on with that Brother and the lost time. Currently not treating this as a BL because I don't think the relationship between Dan and Nai is driving this story.

[queenoftsage]

I don't want to spend ....

an entire twenty minutes trying to come up with a solid review for 'The Judge From Hell' because I'm not feeling it, plus I am more excited to start working on some art that I want to do.

[lots of SPoILeRs up ahead.]

Anyway... All I have to say is... That the cultural gap between South Korea and western religions was very evident in the way the whole lore of 'The Judge From Hell' was handled. Like.... What religion were we alluding to here? Catholic? Baptist? Methodist? Either way... I eventually didn't care, I was like. Oh well, it's the 'Good Religion' they're following. You know, the righteous one.

There was no alluding to any kind of entities from South Korean culture like in 'Hotel Del Luna'. So... It made me think they were trying their luck with Western type religious imagery. As far as originality goes, I will give it that. It's very original lore. What with something called a Kylum and Satan and Bael fighting against each other for it.

... Like you're telling me that these demons serve Lucifer and the demon lort[lord] was nowhere in sight? Did we ran out of budget or something to have THE MAIN boss show up and be like, 'Ok bitches, what you all doing fucking around in the human world. When did I allow that?' or something.

Also.... Kang BitNa... What happened to her? I never got it. Like, where did she end up? After Gremory chased after her, and she ran off. Where did she go? did she stay in 'Fake Hell'? Did she escape 'Hell' overall? What happened? Did I miss it within the subtitles and the dialogue?

Why didn't we get more insight on her as a character? All I know was that she was going to get married to that psycho dude and she saw something she shouldn't have and got killed because of it. How was she as a judge, though? How did she end up with such a psycho dude being a very 'good' judge? I mean, as far as the tiny bit of information we get in the series, BitNa was a great judge, but then she was murdered and died. That's how Justitia took over. hmmm...

I get it, the whole story was Justitia and her mission. It was very fun and SATISFACTORY to watch though, and what I do have to praise the series on were the performances. These actors went in on this and crushed their performances, making me smile every other time. I loved Park Shin Hye's performance. But I'm just biased cause she's a fave. Kim JaeYoung was really good too, and just everyone else. They made this worth watching.

Yes, if you watch this, do not expect any kind of realism, anything to make sense, or anything to be 'logical'. Please leave your stupid 'eVeRyThINg NeEdS tO MaKe SeNSe' logic behind, this is fiction, most importantly FANTASY. It does not have to make sense. Hell you can fucking say the entire HUMAN world has a red sky in that reality and that would fly because FICTION.

none of this shit is trying to be 'realistic'. That said... I still gave this 9 outta 10 because I felt bad that Kang BitNa's story never got resolved and Lucifer was nowhere in sight. Instead we had Gabriel... Gabriel seems to be always messing with them demons. I've seen it in works like 'Constantine' and other ish based on the demons and the angels type lore. To be fair, 'Constantine' had a super bad ass Lucifer showing up at some point.

Anyway... yeah... It's over... I was like. Soooooo can we have a season two, to see what happened to BitNa? And if Justitia is going to do that whole becoming a human thing? ... no? yes? maybe? ... *shrugs*

It was a fun ride either way. I liked it, but the ending left me wanting more, to be honest.

Final Verdict: 'What happened to Kang BitNa!?'

[saltyxtides]

MONTGOMERY WARDEYN.

Sibling what?  Code of conduct?

She sneered her nose at the wording. Bayden suddenly sounded like he was raised in Catholic school or maybe he’d been watching too much Brit tv. What the fuck? 

She let that weirdness go when he asked to call him more. 

“Okay? I know damn well you have a phone. I thought you didn’t like we couldn’t be completely honest there in case people were listening. But, okay. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re trying to check up on my dates again. You worry too much. I can take care of myself, but if it makes you feel better, I will.” 

Celeste hit on one unknowingly with that one and scored big for Bayden. He might not know it yet, but if Monty followed through, he would be thankful later. Shocked and thankful. 

When Bayden pointed to the cams she shook her head. “Stop foiling my dreams, Bay.” She crossed her arms and pouted when she realized she was wrong. 

Then there came something to bring her back up. 

“A surprise? For me? What are you talking about now?” 

She looked around at the chinzy tackiness of it all. 

“You are right about that. I do deserve better.” 

Once they were talking about Janet and he was trying to steer her away from it Monty continued to be wow-ed and weirded out by the manner in which Bayden spoke. It was just so flowery. It seemed off, but funny. 

“Why do you sound like a mashup of Star Wars, My Little Pony, and Friends with a dash of wannabe Deadpool only you’re not pulling any of them off?” She was laughing softly poking fun at how he spoke which was probably a good thing because it distracted her from the actual conversation’s topic more than what the fake Bayden was trying to do. Celeste’s flowery way of speaking was definitely catching her ear and seemed to over do it when trying to act like a don’t-care-boy, sort of like Amanda Bynes in She’s the Man. She just didn’t quite pull it off and if an audience was watching it would be pretty damn fun. It also wasn’t enough to make Monty jump to any crazy conclusions like it wasn’t her brother in that skin, but it certainly raised a brow. 

“Oswald?” Monty shrieked shrill at Bayden’s analogy of himself in a suit because Monty knew something else Celeste didn’t know. 

“And that’s a bad thing? I mean it is for me, maybe not for you, but  I told you never to bring your obsession with him up again. Your celebrity crush on him got way too descriptive and TMI for even me of all things you wanted to do to that man, brother dear. You are out of hand, Bayden. You did that on purpose just to put all those images back in my head, didn’t you? Sneaky, sneaky. I’ll get you back for that.” 

Sibling stories were spilling. Bayden’s secrets were too. Celebrity crush. Robin Lord Taylor. Now she knows. Rogue wasn’t the only comic book character brought to life on screen Bayden had an affinity for. 

It seemed after that Bayden tried to save face after Monty’s mocking and speak about who he danced with in real life. Screw fake crushes. Something real happened to him? Monty lifted yet another brow. 

“Shhh. Oh my gawd Bayden. We’re a little close to the house to be saying that place’s name out loud. Mom’ll gut you. You know she’s terrified of you loving him more than her. You and your daddy issues. AND don’t say that’s crazy because we both already know she’s crazy. But okaaaaaaaaay. Okay. I believe you. You danced with a girl. Your secrets are safe with me. Always are. You know that.” 

She still sneered her nose up because there was no telling what Bayden got up to in the Hotel Cortez. It was the family’s weak spot when it came to Bayden. It was where they fucked up and let out his leash too far. 

“But you are talking weird. You are just extra today, Bay. Did they change your meds again? You always get weird when they change your meds.” 

Everything got light again with the tale of their childhood. It felt good to Monty to relive it. She parked in the garage and the door would close behind them. Once it down they were safe. 

“Safe. It’s down. You can sit up. We’re home. We can act normal now. No more show for the hospital.” 

She’d get out and head into the house through a side kitchen door. The house was as it always was. 

“Mom. We’re home!” Monty called out and set the keys in dish on the counter. 

The doctor’s voice would come from the bathroom way down a long wing in the hall. 

“Thank you for bringing my boy on this day of love. My children are home at last.” Then a big splash was heard as she laughed kicking her feet around in her bubbles. 

Monty’s eyes shifted over to Bayden, “Told ya and looky there, still alive. Not drowned yet. Worry wart.”  “Now, what’s the surprise? And our dance before figures out how to get out of the tub or let me guess. You have to go help her first?”  ( @montywonmom )

Today was shaping up to be more of a Valentine's DAYMARE than a s i b l i n g celebration.

Everything had turned out to be ROCKY at best && the weight of unresolved emotions hung heavily in themselves.

“ I KNOW, I k n o w. It’s just that I care, okay? You’re not just my little sister. You're my ONLY l i t t l e sister Monty. I can’t help but think about all the potential creeps out there. GOOD at l e a s t text once in a while if you can't call me. ”

Not that they believed in Montgomery to keep her word. Relying on her was more often a gamble or a risk more times than not ending in disappointment. There was no doubt Bayden countlessly had reached out only for his efforts to dissolve into the quicksand of her busy lifestyle/ignoring her big brother. Yet the urge to connect — to try was far stronger than the fear of not trying to help Bayden in the very end.

It honestly sucks to like someone, let alone care. They already learned what happens when you do. It never works out in the end.

They NEEDED to s t a y focused. They NEEDED to not s c r e w this up. But doubts lurked in the corners of the back of there mind whispering deceptive thoughts that threatened to unravel there focus. Each passing whisper fed off there anxiety only amplifying the sense of urgency that coursed through their veins.

Knowing the bond he had with his sister was significant to Bayden himself && rather than letting the day's LESS-than-g l a m o r o u s moments push && pull as they urgently were rushing Montgomery. They needed to make sure DR. W a r d e y n was ok.

" I'll stop foiling your DREAMS when you stop being i m p a t i e n t, " a faint smirk on Bayden's features as they continued to walk alongside Montgomery.

" SEE? You're being Impatient a g a i n! I guess I'll keep foiling your dreams when you least expect me to. " Knowing full well that Bayden himself would have relished in a little game with his sister like this priding on being the dream disruptor to his sister jokingly. Keeping her hopefully intrigued about her valentine surprise at least as they held a certain smugness && ignored her on purpose.

Not that the oddly oversized absurdity of cheesy Valentine decorations clinging to the white walls desperately trying to make something out of nothing. That ' CHINTZY t a c k i n e s s ' couldn’t be helped — neither could it overshadow how they felt about themselves being Bayden in the moment.

Desperately trying to make something out of nothing. Trying so desperately to be someone else — all over again.

Wow. More than anything they were slightly impressed Montgomery knew the words ' Star Wars ' let alone ' My Little Pony '.

" Did I just hear you say My Little Pony? Star Wars? I bet you secretly watch My Little Pony when no ones around, " Half in disbelief && half in shock && half joking for once.

" Maybe not that DRAMATIC, but a bit more — expressive && a tiny bit nervous than usual . . . " A tiny bit nervous was an understatement as they stared at the ceiling of Montgomery's car questioning when they were going to figure out they were a fake.

Only underneath the lightness in the moment was a level of anxiety that couldn't be comprehended in the kind of way that felt like they've done wrong.

" How dare you! I'm simply expressing my 50-s h a d e s-of love for Robin Lord Taylor!!! "

An ache flaring in there chest as they were learning things about Bayden from someone else && not exactly from himself hit very different. Each little detail shared felt like a knife — twisting with the realization that this felt invasive. That's not the way they wanted to know him. Shoving the thoughts from there mind as that's the least of there problems right now but a sharp ache still remained.

If she wants sneaky. They'll show Montgomery sneaky. Whipping Bayden's phone out so secretly && with a bit of heavy concentration to do what they wanted to do while Montgomery drove they sent her a text && an image from the backseat!

[ 📱 — text to Montgomery from Bayden ] Nothing freaky to see here at all. [ X ]

" You do know HOUSES can't hear r i g h t? Please seek professional help if you start hearing houses Monty. The crazy in our Mom doesn't fall to far from the crazy in us. We just make it lOoK gOoD. Minus your expert level on house whispering now! So rude of you keeping that from me. That's why you need to CALL me m o r e. But yea. Don't tell Mom. I'll also keep your HOUSE w h i s p e r i n g from Mom too. "

Joking into it more than trying to take what she said seriously or to heavy, because they know how Bayden felt about Hotel Cortez && at the same time they can't say they feel the same way as them. They've only been there once.

" Leave my meds out of this!!! I'm doing this MY w a y this year, " as if her big brother has had this moment in his mind for a while. Yet she's been questioning them ever since they arrived at Briarcliff. Being reminded of an pitbull that won't let go of it's toy.

Though in all trueness, they couldn't compare to the real Bayden. However, they did plan this in case of this happening. Only thing they wished they could change was there situation with Bayden prior. In the kind of way to prepare themselves to be the Bayden Montgomery expects to be would have helped more then trying to grasp into improv.

" Ha ha Monty VERY f u n n y. " They retorted not so amused. Now that they were actually in a parked car. Getting up slowly from the back seat of her car as soreness throbbed from there stomach.

Only the moment they open the car door to get out there was a familiar rancid smell overwhelming them.

The KIND of s m e l l that they knew wasn't existent but only in there mind. Casually stepping out of the car into the garage there ' IT ' was again.

On the cemented ground of the garage the visage of a dead girl again laid a few ways away from them, as they recall seeing her near the laundry room last time they visited. Her skin swollen about to split any moment. Once a beautiful young girl but now just a tangled decaying rot of a mess.

As that smell that filled the entire garage was like potted meat left in the sun. It doesn't help that the empty glassy appearance of it's eyes followed them like a Decayed-Mona-Lisa, as the veins around it's eyes appeared black making it much harder to pry there own attention away.

They knew she wasn't real, or actually there, but that didn't mean it didn't startle them.

Or was it? They question to themselves that there might be more to Bayden. With so many EYES on h i m, they couldn't investigate the matter on there own without the questions being raised if there was something wrong with him.

After all, if they ' SWAP b o d i e s ' why couldn't Bayden see thing's that other's can't? His family tree comes from a LINE of w i t c h e s/w i z a r d s.

Where the voices more than just voices && the things they see more than just that. Or where they projecting what they desire Bayden to be?

But why it had moved from the Laundry Room to the Garage? Did it move because ' IT ' followed them in the kind of way they spent some time in the garage back in Christmas? Or had it moved to lead them. In the kind of way that the dead girl was trying to show Bayden something.

It won't be solved standing around making Montgomery suspect something was wrong with them. They already had enough to actually worry about right now. Closing the car door gently as if everything was normal. No smell. No dead girl. Just them walking over to pick up something they hid during Christmas that they needed to use.

Following Montgomery into DR.W a r d e y n ' s home through the side kitchen door. It looked exactly the same when they visited.

But it was such a relief to hear DR.W a r d e y n ' s voice, to feel a burden weight lift from her shoulders.

Never had they ever felt so awkward && out of place standing there in an actual family unit. Dysfunctional. But still a family unit. Better then Rowan's && her own situation anyway.

The way there tongue felt thick && full of cotton suddenly. As if anything they wanted to say back in that moment wouldn't come out. Staring down the hallway where DR. W a r d e y n ' s voice came from.

“ ALRIGHT, a l r i g h t ! I won’t jump to help Mom just yet, ” they said, crossing there arms with playful mock sternness. “ But you’re RIGHT, we should probably dance like nobody’s w a t c h i n g before she sets sail on her bubble sea. ”

On that note they began walking past Montgomery with ease && little hesitation as if they've known this house all there life.

" Stay here for a second Monty I want to do something first — " they sounded more serious as they went to the living room && though they felt terribly stupid, in the kind of way that made them feel utterly embarrassed.

They put 5 sparklers In the shape of an ' M ' for Montgomery in a aluminum can they already put holes in to hold them. Finding them around Christmas when they where restless.

Turning off the living room lights leaving it nicely dark enough. Fiddling with Bayden's phone ready as they lowered the volume so it wasn't hella loud after lighting one sparkler after another until they were all lit, sparkling in that ' M ' for her to clearly see.

" You can come look now, " not so loud but just loud enough for Montgomery to catch.

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı. Now Playing [My Way] 0:07 ———♡——— 4:36 ◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

" — Montgomery Wardeyn will you do me the honor of having this dance with me? "