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loveanddeepspice · 22 days ago

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𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter: 9 / 9

✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link: here

✞ chapter synopsis: ’twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved.

Oddly enough, the initial thought that entered his mind when Y/N's father landed a punch on his face Friday morning was, ‘I deserved that.’

He didn't have difficulty dodging the floor, though, which was a blessing. Rubbing his jaw, he figured he probably wasn't hit as hard as the older man wanted. Stupid idiot, not a real fucking priest, fucking around with his sweet daughter, leading her on. “A real fucking piece of shit.”

As the accusations were hurled at him, his initial thought was, what could the man possibly be thinking?

Father Sylus might have had the same thoughts if the tables were turned, but he wouldn't have expressed them so boldly. Perhaps he understood the situation, and that's why he didn't try to justify himself. He could see where the man was coming from.

Now, standing in the middle of the church office, Y/N's father refusing to look at him or meet his eyes—that struck an awful chord. He kept his eyes downcast as Y/N's father continued his tirade. The words stung, each one a sharp barb, but deep down, he knew there was truth to them. He had allowed himself to grow too close to Y/N, to let his feelings for her blossom into something forbidden and dangerous. He knew that's what anyone would see.

"I trusted you," her father spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I trusted you to guide my daughter, not to take advantage of her. "

Father Sylus opened his mouth to speak. He was hoping to clarify some things, just for the record, and wanted to jump out the window when the words were: "I know this looks bad."

"You got that right." Y/N's dad finally looked at him; his irritation reflected the hell Father Sylus felt.

"Listen to me," Father Sylus made an effort to keep his tone calm. "This is bigger than you, or I, or..."

"Cut the shit, Father." This was Talia who spoke, glaring harshly and leaning against the wall, her finger pointed. The word 'Father' had never been used in a worse way. It was a slap that coiled around his neck, tightened till the muscle there contracted, and struggled against the tension.

"Think of the reputation the Catholic Church already has, going around accusing priests and nuns and bishops of all these -" She hissed, stopping herself. And before she began again, Father Sylus knew what the next words were.

What had to be done to protect the members. Not a fear of anything spiritual. It was the church's reputation as a whole, even if this had nothing to do with what she was speaking about. Even he knew that it wouldn't matter. Father Sylus merely chose not to see the faults, the perverse, or the corrupt except to acknowledge the horror that it was. This never stopped him from helping the people who most needed it.

He had just had dinner with most of them the other day, he had sat across the table with them after seeing a glimpse of life, not having the darkness or the lingering pain that lurked in the depths. Y/N had done that to him, making him believe that one person could do that much for another. Wasn't that what God wanted, too? to heal the blind, the broken, and the battered.

Still...

"What do you intend to do? Go to the local press? The national news channels?" Father Sylus continued, shaking his head slightly, trying not to let the anger get a hold of him. It came from hurt, loss, and a feeling that something was so close to crumbling and couldn't be put back together.

"She's the adult, but I should have never been so blind." Y/N's dad sounded upset and broken, really. It made the whole thing ten times harder.

"I'm calling the bishop, " Talia said, grimacing and picking at her fingers. The way she was unable to still herself was an annoyance. It was the sight of a restless mind struggling for rationale while the chest was heaving for solutions. She obviously did not think before the statement was released and in the air. She did not ponder such moments of stress, as she was like her.

"You can't." Father Sylus shot a look over to her.

"Why not?!" Y/N's dad spat, bristling as he stepped closer to the two. He did not look like he cared for the answer, but the words fell nonetheless.

And Father Sylus didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to put his feelings out there in the open without having them pulled apart, not having them twisted in front of his face.

"It doesn't matter. We all just need to be realistic about this." It fell with the delicacy of a pin dropped on a rug. It could be felt and heard but would not break anything.

It was difficult not to recoil from the words, not to flinch as they were released, a blade striking the target as the man across from him spoke again. "I expected more from you."

Father Sylus swallowed down the guilt, straightening. He had to remind himself it wasn't just about him. There was someone who cared for him dearly, someone he cared deeply for. And he would die before feeling regret eat him from the inside out, as it certainly was trying to do now.

It didn't stop there, however; Talia shoved off the wall and stared wide-eyed. "Why didn't you stop this sooner?"

He sighed, feeling irritated at the insinuation. "Why do you think?"

That stopped Talia short. It was blunt and not entirely his intention. But Talia was his friend. If he could call her that, he trusted that she knew what he meant.

Father Sylus knew they were all human, with their own desires and temptations. Every day, he prayed for strength to resist them, but when he eventually gave in, he did not push away those thoughts. Instead, he had acted upon them.

You learn something from your mistakes. Only this wasn't a mistake. In seminary, Father Sylus was taught to trust himself, that his heart and his mind and God would lead him the right way. He didn't understand back then why the other priests seemed so set in their views, so careful to examine every word and question the meaning behind it. But he was beginning to now, more than ever. A clarity had washed over him like the first rays of light entering a dim cave; it had struck him with vigor.

Talia knew. He saw it in her eyes, how she took a slow breath and glanced at the floor, clutching her skirt in her hands. She wasn't often silent, and it didn't take long for the silence to get to him, nor the stress from both Y/N's dad, and the situation itself.

"It still isn't right." She whispered, and he thought it was supposed to sound harsh, but instead, she only sounded defeated. Her words had lost their bite.

Father Sylus closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the ceiling for a moment, praying that the words would fall straight from his tongue without failure, without a hesitant breath, or pause for composure. His heartbeat grew a little steadier, and his nerves were soothed.

And looking at Y/N's dad then, a soft, disheartened smile graced his face. "I apologize. I know it isn't right; I do. Sometimes you fall in love, though."

A flinch, the man’s eyebrows pulling together, frowning and staring him down. A shadow covering the kind look that was once in his eye. Those pupils widened, taking him in. "What did you just say?"

The heart cannot be controlled, cannot be measured or weighed, and can't even be seen by human eyes unless you cut the chest open and expose it to the cruel outside world. Father Sylus didn't find it so cruel anymore, though.

That was a thought for later. Another time. One day. He had faith in that. For now, though, it was like the ground had begun to crumble, and the cracks were traveling so swiftly, further and further apart, spreading and reaching toward those who stood above.

"You heard me." And his heart shouldn't pound like this, his palms shouldn't sweat, and his stomach shouldn't feel like there was an eel thrashing around. "I don't know what the future holds, or how this will unfold, or how God will punish me for this transgression."

Some color had drained from Y/N's dad, and Talia went beside him, gently touching his shoulder and giving him a stern look—one Father Sylus hadn't yet seen from her. He noted that he probably should have thought about that or how different things were about to be.

"Father," Talia let go of the man, taking a step towards him, leaning in with a shake of her head, hissing. "This is blasphemy."

Father Sylus merely shrugged, figuring she probably never had an excuse to use the word until now, which was why she used it.

"I'm not throwing myself a pity party or turning this entire thing around to act like I'm some selfless martyr, Talia."

Y/N's dad shuffled from foot to foot, "This can't be happening."

The crack in his voice pulled on Father Sylus' heartstrings, making him feel the desperation in his skin, how uncomfortable and conflicted he felt, how ugly and dark the entire situation was, and how deep into the spiral they had all found themselves. But then his mind went to Y/N, thinking about what she was doing and if she was okay, and as much as it killed him, there was hope.

"It shouldn't, but it is." Father Sylus took a steadying breath.

There was a slight shift in the room, and maybe they hadn't expected his response or didn't expect it to be so direct, or maybe they hadn't been told the priest had such a strong opinion on this stuff. Father Sylus wasn't sure, but he knew it was out in the open now, and it couldn't be undone. Maybe it couldn't be fixed either , but he certainly wasn't letting this slip through his fingers.

Y/N's dad was now leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, avoiding the gazes of both the priest and Talia. The man could only shake his head and squeeze his eyes shut.

"I'm having a hard time thinking this is real, " he croaked, making Father Sylus only more sympathetic. He understood how frustrating and unsettling the situation was, especially for someone like Y/N's dad, someone who had suffered a loss.

"I am the one who is responsible, and -"

"Nothing is ever cut and dry with her, though. I should have known." Y/N's dad interrupted, making his way towards the office door. "I'm buying her a ticket back home."

Father Sylus swallowed past the lump in his throat, "She's not going to like that."

"Does it look like I care?"

Father Sylus walked forward quickly, going over to stop him from leaving the room, although the effort was pathetic. The others' feet stopped right at the threshold. "You shouldn't. You might never see her again." He wasn’t sure why he said those words exactly, for he himself knew they weren’t true.

Y/N's father stiffened, "Is that a threat, Father?"

Father Sylus held up his hands, realizing how his words had sounded. "No, no, of course not. I just meant... Y/N is an adult, like you said. She makes her own choices.”

"Never again?" Talia echoed a bit too late. Didn't it just seem cruel to leave a puzzle in the middle of the game unfinished? The outcome was inevitable, but the journey, how the road was set, and where it would lead next were so mysterious and overwhelming at the same time.

"I'm trying to make this easy." Y/N's dad narrowed his eyes, shoulders tensing.

"Go ahead, send her back home, push her away, be left wondering why all the time." Father Sylus challenged. It was for more selfish reasons than he wanted to admit to at the moment .

"Don't play that card, not now."

That was the best advice, and Father Sylus took a step back, trying to find peace, "Look, it won't change anything. This town is small and people will talk regardless."

If there wasn't anything more to discuss, if the secrets would be allowed to settle and people would stop breathing them into the air, the wounds might be given enough time to heal. Yes, occasionally getting better with a friendly nudge was much more manageable. But they were all human, after all, weren't they?

"I'm calling the bishop," Talia repeated her earlier statement, but Father Sylus didn't show that it affected him.

"Do what you want."

Talia gaped, at a loss for words, stunned even. This seemed unfair; he had taken more than a second to think about this, something he had acknowledged long before that evening with Y/N came. Sure, some aspects were shocking and made his pulse speed up, and yeah, now that the secret was out, it should have been a relief to confess to Y/N's father about his feelings.

But his own feelings weren't what was important here, and that hurt, maybe more than some would believe it could. He could accept it, though, for her. So that a bit of happiness could seep into her skin and settle in her heart.

Even if that meant giving up one of the things he treasured most. It was disappointing to say the least. Not nearly enough of a punishment. What would happen to him? To Y/N? Now, that would have to be a part of the unknown, his penance that no one else could take. Only he and the Lord could decide upon that. And maybe He already had; maybe this was the judgment, the sins out in the open.

God would decide.

Y/N's father stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud. Father Sylus flinched at the sound, closing his eyes briefly as he tried to gather his composure. Talia remained, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she stared at him.

You were used to panic. When living alone in your apartment, stress had a tendency to bottle up and fester into something you couldn't quite comprehend.

Sometimes, it would end with a bottle shattered and your body tired and sore, but this felt different. Your father confronting you had felt different. Especially when the emotions in his eyes were not directed at you; instead, they were pained. And when he pressed his lips together and cast his gaze elsewhere, the dull, throbbing pain settled in your chest, refusing to subside.

God, you really were a horrible daughter. Wretched. Narcissistic. The worst. A sinner, a demon, a fool, and an idiot who never thought. At this point, maybe they were a fair assessment, and the words you assumed your father had thought would surely follow you for the rest of your miserable life.

Standing in your room now, you couldn't stop thinking about Father Sylus. You remembered the feeling of his arms, that warm touch, and the depth of his crimson eyes.

And in the silence of your room that night, your suitcase packed and ready to go with the earliest flight your father could book back out west - you did something you hadn't done seriously in a very long time.

When you were younger, you often kneeled in front of the windowsill after your mother passed. Closing your eyes or keeping them open didn't make a difference. Lacing your fingers together and resting your chin on the backs of your hands - you used to pray. For good health, for the pain to fade, just for those stormy emotions in your head to settle.

Who knows, maybe your mom was listening. Kneeling next to you in spirit and pleading for you not to forget her, pleading for you to accept and love yourself. At the time, those moments were meant for her memory. But after getting older and finding a new curiosity about the world, they were soon forgotten, too.

And maybe you were trying to help yourself then. With nothing else to really lose, you resigned yourself to praying for a different outcome, pleading for a change that was in the hands of another.

It was so hard, kneeling there, like the strength to keep your composure was slipping from you. Each breath constricted, and with each time your eyes watered and the tears slipped past, you told yourself to keep strong. Asking someone else for an answer wasn't the best idea; maybe you were hoping for the impossible.

"Hey," you began quietly, biting back the tremble. "I'm- really not one for this. Stuff. And I hope that you're hearing me because..."

You fought to take deep, steady breaths and force the words beyond your clenched teeth. The thoughts were just as difficult to manage, and you had to shut your eyes tightly to calm the trembling within.

"If you could help, I'd appreciate that. Sorry, I don't deserve it, but that's selfish. Um, my-" and you gripped your hands tighter together.

"Can I ask for something, please?" Struggling past the lump in your throat, you swallowed hard. "I know, it's selfish. Prayers aren't really something that should be turned into a list of wishes..."

You knew. God had more important things to be doing than waiting for a scum like you to apologize and plead for help. He would guide the ones who listened, studied His word, did good deeds, and praised Him. You were none of those things; you had fallen off that path long ago.

"So, I'm not really sure if I should, but please, just help me," You cracked. Holding your hand over your mouth and trying to gasp in oxygen, you could hardly control the shuddering; it only made your heart pump faster, and the pain grew tenfold.

"He- Father Sylus - just keep him safe. That's all. I lov - he deserves it. You can't forsake him. If it wasn't for him - I just want him to be okay. I don't deserve anything; I just - I'll ask for this, even if I don't deserve to have that happen."

Father Sylus would listen, and the thought of that broke you. You just, needed someone to listen. Father Sylus deserved the best. God would surely grant him that. And you...

"God, I have never needed help as badly as I do now."

And still, a dark part of you couldn't allow yourself to think that He'd listen. He would pick others because it was the right thing to do—or the punishment. How awful would it be to answer for your deeds, the wrongs, or the filthy stuff that happened over the past few weeks? Maybe this was karma kicking in.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you opened your eyes, looking out the window at the night sky above. It was illuminated with stars that glittered so greatly that anyone could see the wonders. Did anyone stop to appreciate it, or did everyone just gloss over it without a care or a glance? Was that what it was like to look at your mistakes and not learn, apologize, or regret them?

It was not the future that hurt the worst, no. Nor was the loss, change, or distance. It wasn't even the uncertainty that clawed up your spine and clung to your clothes like dirty water. That seemed the least of your worries because the lack of time and the chance of missed opportunity made the pain bloom somewhere deeper.

The church was quiet as you walked in, the early morning light peeking through the windows. The familiar sensation of wooden floors beneath your shoes, a comfort, a normality, and a sense of guilt. Because you shouldn't have been there, but a coward you were, and the thought of avoiding one last goodbye wouldn't leave you alone.

Because deep down, a sick part of you wished the plane would crash. You weren't even on it yet, either. But the thought of not having to deal with the other options, choices, and consequences, and the pain of letting him go, had made your decision so much easier.

Oh, and like a magnet being attracted to its pole, you saw Father Sylus, looking out his office window.

He looked peaceful, holding the rosary and slowly running the beads between his fingers. He was humming something. All that could be heard was the slight hum, off-tune, but you recognized it.

Do not be afraid; I am with you.

When the humming stopped, you were surprised to realize you had walked to him without making a sound.

"You shouldn't be here." Father Sylus informed you, not bothering to look over his shoulder. Did he already know it was you? The words were not said to send you away. Instead, they held no weight behind them, and if that weren't enough of a giveaway, the soft smile as he turned was enough to confirm it for you.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving." It sounded so different out loud, and his shoulders didn't slouch; in fact, they stiffened. At the sight, your mouth watered, and your tongue started to feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Sylus." You murmured, reaching forward to brush your hand on his arm; how he jolted made you retract your fingers.

His deep, red gaze finally fell upon you, and the color drained from his face. A shaky exhale fell past his lips as his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What are you apologizing for? You've done nothing wrong, Y/N."

That couldn't be farther from the truth. But for the first time, you wanted to avoid correcting him. "So you're okay, right?"

There was a pinch to the tenderness; if you looked any closer, you could see him struggle with the answer.

"That's always a little tricky to figure out, isn't it ?"

And his smile was so endearing, and you couldn't stop thinking about the act that had taken place in this very office not long ago. Soaking in his presence and finding comfort in his touch, cherishing his scent. That urge to cry was back, and you stumbled forward, crashing into his side and burying your face into his chest.

"It hurts." You whined, a trembling hand gripping the material of his sweater. You'd always hated yourself for needing others, being weak, and not being able to fix things on your own.

"I know," Father Sylus smoothed your hair back." I didn't want this for you; you were just supposed to be happy."

You pulled back abruptly, eyes wide and a gasp catching in your throat. He grimaced, taking a hand and tapping a finger to his temple. "Everything moves and nothing is concrete, yes?"

"Please say you aren't feeling guilty." As soon as the words left your mouth you chastised yourself.

Father Sylus and his guilt, trying to swallow down the emotions when he should have just let himself have what he wanted.

"I know what it's like to have everything taken from you," you said, "to fall in love for the wrong reasons—with the wrong person."

The reminder shocked him, and his fingers ghosted against the skin beneath your collarbone, sending warm tingles up your neck, almost enough for you to lean against his hand.

"Stop."

And he sounded hurt, that frown appearing again, and when his eyebrows furrowed, well, something about it never failed to have your heart hammering in your chest.

"It shouldn't have happened - everything." Your nails dug into your palms painfully. "If it hadn't been for me - then maybe you could-"

"Stop." His deep voice was a growl, and his hand traveled up to grip your chin, tilting your head so that you were forced to look into his eyes—so sharp, so beautiful. "Don't talk like that. I won't accept that."

Despite the intense gaze, his fingers caressed your cheek so lightly, making your lips quirk up at the affection, relaxing instantly. Then his thumb rubbed gentle circles, and the soft gaze the two of you shared had your face heating up under his attention.

"It was me. I knew what I was doing," he smiled a little sheepishly. "I'll take the blame, the repercussions."

His tender gesture had you biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes to blink away the tears. Why did he have to care? Why did he have to try so hard? What had you done to deserve such admiration and devotion?

"What'll happen to you?" You wondered aloud, because as long as you didn't watch him break, as long as you didn't see the destruction firsthand, it might not hurt as much.

"I'll leave, most likely."

"Where are you going?"

Father Sylus just smiled, leaning in and pressing his lips softly to yours. He kissed you sweetly for a moment, and you pressed into the familiar gesture with everything you had.

His fingers curled into your waist, clutching onto the material of your shirt in a way that had your pulse quickening, and a shaky breath falling from your mouth. When he pulled back, it was too soon. And when he gave you a smile that had your knees buckling, he said something that would stay ingrained in your memory.

"God is everywhere, and therefore so am I."

And while those words did a pretty good job, the promise in his tone, along with that intense stare, had your hands fisting in his sweater, your body becoming jittery, the nerves sending pinpricks under your skin. The intensity is almost too much for you to process.

"I don't know anything about love," you whispered, "or why God makes us do stupid shit.”

"Because He wants to see us fall so that we may rise back up again."

"Then I'm happy, to have fallen for you."

He raised an eyebrow at your statement, and even though you were trembling, both from nervousness and fear, you felt a surprising warmth erupt in the pit of your stomach. A content and comfortable glow settled all around you as the words began to spill from your mouth.

"I myself go because of you, and your...your kind heart, and - oh, and your hair and - and - I love you."

With a huff, Father Sylus pressed another kiss lips , silencing you. Your breathing became somewhat labored. And instead of letting your emotions overwhelm you any more than you could handle, you laughed nervously as you pulled back to get a look at his face.

"California is great this time of year." You added.

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding content but not surprised. In fact, it seemed more as if he'd known what you were about to ask before the words had even left your mouth. You weren't sure if that was comforting or worrying.

But, Goddamnit, it was the best and most incredible possibility you'd ever been given the chance to express. And if this was real, and if it was heaven or hell, or wherever was next, it would matter so much more, so you knew you needed to be selfish just once more.

"I don't have anybody," You told him. “In California.”

And then Father Sylus shook his head and pressed his lips together, and panic erupted in your chest before anything had been spoken. It was this pit in the pit of your gut, churning, the fear mounting, telling you not to get your hopes up because if you were to get it up again, that would mean ripping yourself apart and rearranging everything inside.

"You have plenty of people in your life, Y/N." Father Sylus informed you. "And me, well, I don't have a home, really. Besides, not everyone likes the beach."

You could have cried. After so much stress, worry, and sorrow, you wanted to sink back into his arms and let him hold you forever. "Maybe I'm sick, Father. Maybe I'm broken beyond repair, and no one can fix that but you ."

With a sad smile, Father Sylus' thumb brushed over the tears on your cheek, and you loved how warm he was.

"No, you're not. You are coming home; that's the biggest victory you could have achieved. And just..." He cleared his throat, the emotion seeping in.

What did I do?" You asked.

"You sought to heal your crushed spirit." To calm the quivering, Father Sylus gripped your chin again to make you meet his eyes. "You did that. Not me. Not God. You did that."

"I need you." you urged, pulling on his collar.

"I know," he murmured. His dark and hooded eyes flickered down to you briefly. Those soft lips and mouth open, and that deep voice caught your name on his tongue.

"Say it." you pleaded. "You've given me the confidence, so please-" Your fingers tightened around his , begging him to stop stabbing your heart a little further until it finally broke. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you," he assured. His hand cupped the side of your face, long fingers sliding over the skin, tugging the ear and moving strands of hair. And then he glanced up, the light overhead piercing his orbs, and you thought you saw some tears cling to the ends of his eyelashes.

In those little touches, it was in that moment, and the kindness showed through how his thumb caressed the soft spot behind your ear. And the heat that radiated off of him, giving you every impression of being comforted. Or perhaps it was how your heart pounded erratically, sending sparks behind your eyelids. But either way, it was at that moment you realized something.

This was a test. That’s all it had been.

"I love you," Father Sylus muttered once more. Lips parted open just a bit too long until all that could be heard was the wind howling against the window as winter gradually left its mark.

It took a second, before you were forced to take a deep, slow breath, the shaking of your nerves refusing to leave. "I have to go." When Father Sylus looked at you with those beautiful crimson orbs, you smiled sadly. "I’ll miss my flight."

And he nodded, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, the sudden reality washing over, taking the ease and settling the ache back into the chest where it had started.

"I heard California is nice this time of year." Father Sylus said.

"Yes," you agreed, chuckling slightly. "The waves are nice. Perfect for when you're excommunicated for sleeping with a parishioner."

"Sounds pretty spectacular."

And it did, and the thought of having him beside you through the change flushed out the pressure of anxiety and sadness . "And the view over San Francisco Bay is spectacular."

You weren't sure what made you say it, or why a sudden burst of confidence swelled. All you knew was, suddenly, with Father Sylus, there were no secrets.

Father Sylus tilted his head, regarding you curiously. He brushed a strand of hair from your face before meeting your eyes, crimson locking with your gaze. "What kind of view are we talking about?"

"Nothing like you've seen before, Sylus." He had to understand , it was an easy realization, really, "Out west, the sunrise is just..."

No lies. No secrets. For all you knew, it could be one of the last times you saw him. Did that still have the same effect, knowing neither of you was being forced away?

"Do I have a chance?" He asked, and you didn't have to think hard about the question to understand its intent.

He trusted you, but would it be enough? Would he be enough?

Would it be enough to see you smile each morning when you caught his attention, his lips quirking up into that beautiful half grin? Holding onto you when you slept, fingers woven in your hair, or feeling your body shifting against his side. Seeing you get ready for work in the bathroom, hearing the song you hummed to yourself. The kind words he would give after seeing you dance without music. Watching you grow happy each time he kissed your skin and marked you and sent shivers up and down your spine. And would those rare moments of passion that allowed you to feel his emotions, bursting from his fingertips and flowing through his mouth and radiating off of his heart, be enough for him to overcome the differences?

Was he willing to ignore the ways in which the two of you were so intrinsically flawed and simply fall in love with the parts that still bore so much trust and content, maybe even peace?

Would seeing your smile every day be enough?

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, the silence filling the room with a melancholy aura until you finally spoke.

"You always have a chance."

When you pulled away, there was nothing but an unsettling quietness—just the humming of the clock, the steady breaths, and the wind outside.

It wasn't exactly like you were perfect, or doing anything right. If anything, you were the one who had it the easiest because once you had opened the door, he just had to walk through it. And while it hurt to look upon the uncertainty, the truth was that you were hopeful. A piece of you had slipped through the cracks, and come back, crawling forth to reach the surface.

It wasn't blind or naïve, the hope that held you or had held you this entire time. But it was there, and so were you.

An imperfect man who had made mistakes and wasn't much different than yourself. Once upon a time, you had known, to accept the flaws, the hurt, and the people inside of them. That's all that God wanted from people at the end of the day, right?

A person. A soul. An existence.

That's all anyone could ever be.

Somehow, by the grace of God, you would allow yourself to bask in this feeling of worth, redemption, and mercy, regardless of the fact that a darker part of you would say you didn't deserve to be saved.

But love, even if it doesn't last, will have no other purpose other than what it is. And that's enough.

With one last glimpse, your hands fell into your pockets, and you took a deep, shuddering breath. Your resolve was not broken; it was accepted and resolved, and you glanced up with a confident step to the door, a prayer in your head.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The End

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91 A/N:

If listening to author song picks gives you brain zaps, I suggest listening to these if you're a loser like me who stays to watch the credits of a movie: You knew this one was coming, right? Headphones encouraged. SYMBOLISM, my friends. The song mentioned in the chapter, but not specifically mentioned except for one line from it.

I am so incredibly grateful to have had the friends that helped me write a good majority of this. Words cannot express how *sigh* blessed I feel to have had help so my dumb brain could write properly, or word things differently, or remember how Catholicism worked. This probably wasn't the AU anyone wanted, or expected. But here we are, and this has BLOWN UP in ways I didn't expect. It even inspired ART from somebody. I can't believe it. It honestly warms my heart so much at how much attention this has gotten. I myself struggle with a lot of confidence/religious guilt/relationship issues that our MC in this story faces, so I am so happy it's touched others. I wanted this to be a lot longer, but I have ideas for more horrible fics and more horrible AU's, so I need the headspace for that. I am also working on original stuff. And all good things must come to an end. I apologize if this is a cliffhanger for a lot of people, but considering this was written from a 'reader' perspective, I didn't want to twist it too much in a certain direction. So, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to those who have read, will continue to read, and interact with me about this fic. LDS has become such an important game to me and the depth of Sylus as a character makes me want to pull my hair out and also punch him in the face (affectionately). If you enjoy my work, please let me know. Your support means the world. <3

My kofi page if you want to further support me. Never required but always appreciated!

#tempting grace #the final chapter ahhh #lds #l&ds #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lds sylus #lads #sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #reader x sylus #sylus x y/n

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