A/N: So i’m going to hell, and i’m blaming it all on Anne
Taglist: @aclamclriver @oh-adam ( + @tonguepopperr I don’t know if u want to be tagged in this B, sorry if your don’t <3 )
Warnings: NSFW under the cut, defiling a holy man of the church
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Garupe is loving after he cums - although the first thing he does is grab his rosary to return it to it’s place on his neck, sending up a small prayer for forgiveness before he helps you clean up and wipe down so you weren’t shamed by the others in the village if they ever saw something on you that could give your relationship away. He would always give you a gentle kiss on the brow - where the ash would go if it were the middle of the week. Garupe never stays long after though.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He’s a fan of his shoulders. They’re strong and large enough to show that he is in fact a man under his robes. On you though, he loves your hips and thighs. They’re so soft and womanly, he loves to hold them and watch the skin indent as his fingers dig into your flesh when he’s holding your legs up as he makes love to you on the floor of your home.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)
Garupe loves to see his cum on you. He loves to watch it drip from your mouth and cheekbones down you your shoulders and collarbones. He feels no shame in the sin he’s committed while he watches his cum fall onto the small silver crucifix the rests between your collarbones. He feels no shame as you stare up at him, swallowing what cum you had been able to catch with your mouth. This man also fucking loves having your cum on his fingers - the smell to remind him of what he’s done as he holds his hands up to his face during prayer, his pussy soaked hands the only thing he can focus on.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
You’re his dirty secret. Other than you, he’s the perfect priest. (( He sometimes likes to hear you moan his title as he kisses you in the confines of the church ))
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
PUH-LEASE. Garupe has no experience. No clue what he’s doing. Like someone wandering unknown territory during the darkness of night. He went into the church a virgin, having not even touched himself until he caught your gaze during service.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)
Missionary. It’s comfortable for him, he can hold himself up and watch you unravel and beg for him with the same lips you use to drink the communion wine and swear loyalty to god. He also enjoys holding you up against a wall - It’s quick, he can show off his strength to you, and you can fix yourselves quickly if anyone happens to accidentally come near you while you’re fucking like animals against the wall (( He also just really loves holding your thighs ok? My man Garupe is a thigh man.))
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
He doesn’t know how to be goofy. He once laughed in fear of his sin and the fact that he had betrayed his vows and he was going to hell. But other than that, he’s serious during intimate moments. They’re rare moments, and he wants to make sure you know how serious and rare they have to be.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
Not groomed, very dark hair but there’s not a lot of it. Most of his hair is on his head, chin and legs. He doesn’t bother with - or even consider - grooming down there.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Garupe is very intimate. He doesn’t get a lot of time with you. Just fleeting moments under the cover of night, or minutes between services against a pillar in one of the rooms off the chapel. He tries to be romantic, but he also makes sure not to take it too far, as he knows that this could never be anything more than what it is.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
He doesn’t masturbate until after the first time he sinks himself into you. When he goes on mission trips, he finds himself wandering off from his companion to hastily grab onto himself, pretending that you were there to bend over in front of him so he could sheath himself into you. He’s not very good at jacking off, he’ll use both hands, one at the base to keep pressure and the other to tease right under the tip of his cock until he’s spilling against his stomach.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
This boy has a praise kink. He loves to be praised by you. He loves to hear how good he makes you feel, how he’s the only one you think about and want in you. He also has a minor hair pulling kink. It’s a roughness that he enjoys - when your fingers are tangles in his hair and your tighten your grip as waves of pleasure run through your body, pulling the soft strands and tightening at the roots until he can’t help but release a guttural moan.
Garupe also 100% has an edging kink. If you have the time, he’d willing let you edge him for hours. Hours for him to beg and cry for release.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
In your home. It’s safe, private, and quiet. There’s no peering eyes, and you can always say that he was visiting for a private confession if anyone did ask questions. He loves to take you on your bed on top of the soft blankets and furs - very unlike his own bed which was stiff and uncomfortable.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
The way you look at him during service. The way you look up through your lashes during prayer, giving him the secret smile meant only for him. The way your lips wrap around the goblet as he holds it for you to drink - the way the red wine drips down your chin and onto your chest, almost exactly like his cum does. The twitch of your hips when you walk away to return to your seat. The unsettling feeling that runs through his body when the matchmakers of the town try to set you up with young men that could actually be with you - it’s often those days that he sobs into your shoulder as he makes love to you.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Public sex/voyeurism. The fear of getting caught is too high to even consider partaking in public excursions.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
Garupe loves eating you out - he’s not very good at it at first, but after a few times, you’ve never received better orgasms. You squirm a lot when he’s sucking on your clit and shoving his tongue into your cunt, and he often holds you down until you’re almost sobbing from the constant pleasurable stimulation. You give him head fairly often, when there’s not enough time to both undress and you still want some physical contact. He’s never felt pleasure like the orgasms he gets from your mouth. The way you suck at the head and tease his shaft with gentle licks of his tongue - it’s enough for a saint to want to sin (heh. Get it?)
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
Slow and sensual. Garupe likes to take his time with you, to watch you fall into the pits of pleasure. He likes to make it last with you, because he never knows when it’s going to be the official last time, so he always makes your longer moments together worthwhile.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Quickies almost don’t exist for Garupe, unless you have no time and you know you won’t be able to see each other for a lengthy period of time. Though occasionally, he’ll take you quickly against the wall of his small bedroom before rounds and praying hours are over.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
Garupe doesn’t risk anything. He worries about everything, especially when it comes to you. The only risks he’ll take is minor experimental moments with positions or oral techniques he picked up from someone’s confession.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
One or two rounds at 25 minutes for the first one, and 15 for the second. There can be roughly a five or ten minute break between the rounds. As more time goes on, he begins to last longer, his longest session with you being almost a full hour.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
No toys (does holy water as lube count???)
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
You tease him much more than he teases you. Like stated above, you can edge him for a long while, Garupe doesn’t have the heart to tease you. The moment you beg for his cock, he’ll eagerly give it to you.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Quiet. Garupe has spent his life keeping silent, which also translates to the noises he makes when he’s balls deep in you. He whimpers a lot, breathy moans - one loud groan when he cums, but other than that, he’s pretty good at keeping quiet.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
He’s masturbated in the confessional once during a service.
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
8 inches, probably looks like a micro when he’s not hard tbh.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Non-existent until he meets you. After that, he sees sex everywhere. He craves it all the time - though he’s good at keeping a straight face. He’s almost always needing you. Can have sex every day if he wanted to.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
If your relationship was under better circumstances where he was able to court you and marry you, he’d fall asleep right away while holding you close. But since that’s not the reality he lives in, he never falls asleep afterwards, he always has to make sure he leaves and returns before anyone questions his absence.
Semi-sequel to the first ‘silent patience’ but in Garupe’s POV, which I thought would be very interesting to try out and let people see Garupe’s love for her. Not too pleased by the whole thing, but I do like it and hope you will, too! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
warning: blood, illness and death. religious terms and figures also mentioned.
Francisco Garupe knew he was going to die as soon as he got into the water. He knew death would claim him for his actions in trying to save the last prisoner - for what, he couldn’t explain. He just had to try, to prove that he wouldn’t stop from innocent Christians - innocent people - die any longer in attempt to renounce his faith. He felt himself being drawn by instinct, by Heaven, to pull one last action to show that he would not fall to his knees. And, by the meaning to save at least one life, he ended up losing the other and his own…
Garupe knew he was dead when he found himself in the courtyard of the monastery, back home.
His large hands coming to his chest, Garupe found himself full. No longer emaciated or able to feel his ribs as easily, his nails clean of dirt and clothes of comfortable trousers and a loose shirt that he could only ever see himself wear only within his own chambers. Any cuts or bruises he remembered counting over and over to pass time in his capture were erased, as if cleaned away with water. Swallowing, Garupe looked along the courtyard to all the children running about, singing and playing in the sunshine as everything looked to be as the same way he left it with Rodriguez so long ago.
“Hold on one moment, dear! You’re going to trip!”
Garupe spun around at the sound of her voice. The same voice he dreamt about every night on his mission to look for the Father who brought the trio together as small children; the voice of a woman he could only find himself dreaming useless desires of living the simple life, form a family in their own little home in the village, perhaps a farm or tutoring school. Garupe felt himself grow heavy in the legs at the sight of his beloved Salome arranging a small boy’s shirt, a gentle smile on her lips as she fixed the boy’s hair while informing him of the small holes in the tiled ground that could harm him.
Her soft hands resting on the child’s shoulders for a moment, Garupe held back a cry of her name when he saw the older Sister - her superior - notice something that he hadn’t. Something wrong, but he didn’t know what. To him, even as she sat on the stone ledge of the courtyard with her uniform on, her secrets hidden, Salome only looked as beautiful and perfect in his eyes as she always have been.
“Why don’t you go and fetch yourself a drink, my dear. I will watch over the young ones until you return,” the Sister suggested in a gentle voice, as if urging Salome to take a moment to herself. In comparison to how the older woman treated Garupe and Rodriguez as children, she was so much more gentle with Salome, who was an absolute troublemaker and stubborn little girl. Garupe always feared the older Sister, yet he knew she had that maternal bone dedicated for his secret love specifically.
Seeing Salome look up to her - Garupe remembering that he was now invisible - he watched her smile timidly before nodding. “Yes, Sister,” she agreed as she pushed herself up to her feet.
Garupe watched Salome take one step, seeing her face fall to an expressionless haze before paling underneath the sun. His breath caught in his throat, Garupe sprint into a run as Salome fell sideways with a limp body. His hands reaching out to catch her, Garupe screamed out of fright as he watched with terror of his beloved’s body slip right through his ghostly form. The echo of children screaming and the Sister quickly going to Salome’s unconscious form took over the monastery’s walls.
Standing in the very same bedroom he last saw Salome and spent the night with her, Garupe watched with criticizing eyes as the older Sister left the chambers with the empty bowl and old rags. Leaving the fevered woman alone with her thoughts and the ghost of her lover watching over her boiling body. He was helpless in watching Salome’s legs bend underneath the thin material of a blanket, her whimper drying in her throat as she tried to turn to a better resting position with what little strength she had in the moment; still sore and exhausted of being so hot.
Garupe could remember how often he shared the same, small bed with Salome; how he remembered touching her skin and making her sing like an angel just by using his mouth and hands, the beautiful expressions and passionate tears whenever he gave her his body to give her pleasure in late hours of the night when everyone else was asleep. Sharing tender kisses and sleepy goodbyes before sneaking away to reunite in their occupations during the day…
How much Garupe wished he could lay beside her shaking form and hold her so close, it was absolutely painful.
Salome refused to complain to the Sister, or even the Head Priest of the monastery whenever they asked her how she felt. She only smiled tiredly to them and shook her head, asking when they thought she would be well enough to join the children in their morning prayers again or help clean the halls of the chapel. Garupe frowned whenever she did this, seeing the lack of luster in her eyes and the moments she seem to forget where she was for a split second.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Garupe reached out to hover the back of his fingers along Salome’s red cheek. Despite the major barrier between him and the mortal world, he could practically feel the fever grow underneath her skin like a new kindling. A fire he knew was going to grow more and more, no matter what they could do to ease the pain with natural remedies and medicines suggested by the village doctor.
A shiver took over Salome and she curled her legs more, her fingers digging into the cushion of the bedding, and Garupe cooed sadly at the way his love’s face twisted in absolute discomfort.
“My lovely Salome,” he whispered softly, hating how she wasn’t able to feel or hear him in any way shape or form. He wanted so much to push her damp hair away from her sweating forehead and press gentle kisses to ease her headache. “Please, please rest, my love. You need to rest…”
He watched Salome use the sleeve of her underdress to wipe against her face, as if trying to rid droplets or ease her sore eyes. The moment she shifts again to lay on her back once more, Garupe noticed the seam along her sternum unlaced and pulled open for the Sister to place the wet rags during the sessions of trying to ease the heat hidden inside her. He could see the rosary that she refused to take off, making his lips twitch to almost smile.
By some miracle of his pleas, Salome closed her eyes and fell asleep in some sort of peace, his hands phantomly drifting up and down her curves and arms, letting her breathe through her nose and mouth. Looking up to the high ceiling, Garupe waited for some sort of message from anyone who could hear him…
“Is this punishment?” he questioned coolly, his eyes soft with understanding of his own faults. “For...everything I’ve done against the code, you punish me to watch her suffer? I dedicate my life, and for the single temptation I couldn’t go without is now my own hell?”
There was no answer, and he did not expect any. “You must understand, Lord, that she is not a temptation… Salome and I have been with one another since we were children. She suffered as much as I, and shared many struggles before we both gave our lives to the church. We are faithful to you, and you know this. Please...please, do not punish her. You must understand that it was fate by your hands, not evil or sin. It had been accepted by Father Ferreira in the altar.”
Feeling tears form in his eyes, Garupe looked down to the sleeping woman. “Please...let her rest.”
Days continued on and Garupe was left without the need to eat, to sleep or even move to contain blood flow. He managed to learn more about what he became after drowning, things that he found useful to his knowledge while he watched Salome’s fever rise to the point that she couldn’t register which was day or night or feel the cold water against her skin. His hands would ghost over her form repeatedly, hoping to somehow let her know of his presence - his spirit - is right there with her. Garupe would speak softly to her, as if she could hear, of one sided conversations that were so open that he often found himself crying by the time he watched her fall asleep once again from her exhaustion.
His long fingers tracing the shape of her naked ankle, Garupe watched as Salome admired the rosary he gifted her on her first communion as an official nun from years ago. He loved how she refused to let it go, even in her illness, praying with a small smile as her thumb touched the curves of the stained wood.
“I have often dreamed of a simpler life with you, my love,” he confessed to her with a sad smile. “We would still be who we are, but they would let us have children…”
Looking up to the ceiling, Garupe laid down beside the sick woman he craved to comfort in any way he could. “I’ve dreamt of our children...both a son and daughter. They would be beautiful, like you, my love, with no possible flaws. I wouldn’t want either of them to have my ears or blemishes, but they would have my hair that you would love to groom and tuck back to kiss their heads. I would lift them in my arms and make them fly like birds.”
Turning his head to see Salome stare through him, her dry lips parted to breathe, he exhaled softly and traced his knuckle along her hallowing cheek. “Our children would crawl into our bed to sleep with us, making it difficult for me to touch you the way I love to. Any moment I attempt to have you bare and pleasure you, they would fly in and climb upon us for attention,” he chuckled at the idea. “But, despite that, I would still manage to have you in different places, where we wouldn’t be disturbed and no one would shame us of our love.
“I would hold your hand on our walks,” he continued softly, Salome’s eyes fluttering for a moment as she tried to keep her composure to stay awake. “Kiss you and watch you without abandon as we go about our days and duties with our colleagues. Sebastiao would love playing with our children… Teach them psalms and tell stories.”
Salome’s bleary eyes closed out of exhaustion, and he rolled closer to allow his nose to “touch” against the tip of hers. Pretending to be able to feel her skin with his fingers as he hovered his lips over hers, he sighed. “You would be a perfect mother, my love. I have dreamt of it so many times while sleeping beside you, I had to confess in silence every time I went back to my own room,” he told her with a sad smile. “But, surely you’ve dreamt of them as well at some point. Perhaps you dreamed of our children with my ears, because you always tell me how much you love them.”
Watching her fall into slumber, her breathing sounding like rough winds within the belltower of the monastery, lips parted as her fingers fell limp against the sheet, Garupe swallowed thickly. “Dream of our children, my lovely Salome. Dream of them, and let our children help you relax from all your aches and pains with their smiles and kisses.”
Garupe then turned his gaze up to the ceiling, silently speaking to God for some sort of conversation or answers to his unsaid questions and pleas for mercy.
Red was symbolic to the color of blood. Blood of His son’s sacrifice on the cross, therefore the color symbolizes the martyrs of those who sacrificed their own lives for the better of others…
But, as soon as the very color of Christ spilled from his beloved’s lips in her first fits of coughs, Garupe couldn’t feel any sort of forgiveness of the Lord once seeing how it stained her body and bed.
It was unexpected. Salome sat up on her bed once she awoke from her slumber and coughed once - and it soon turned into her unable to breathe properly as mouthfuls of her life dripped down her chin and down her body. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to inhale through her mouth, choking on the iron-flavored material as she gripped at her chest blindly. Garupe, out of his own nerves, rushed to try and help her, only to let out a roar of frustration when his hands phased through her struggling form as she tried to scramble out of bed. He felt himself tear up at remembering again that he couldn’t do anything.
As soon as her failing feet touched the stone floor, Salome collapsed with a bruising fall to her knees, her hands clawing at her throat before she let out a horrible shriek that shattered his own heart. Her spine bending forward as she gagged once more, Garupe could only watch helplessly while Salome threw up one more mouthful before the door was thrusted open.
The Sister rushed to Salome as the sick woman reached out to hold onto her robes, staining the white lining of the sleeves as she pulled the elder woman down. Salome attempted to speak through her mouth, blood dribbling thickly from her pout as she cried. The Sister did her best to try and hush her blood-curdling cries and push her back towards her ruined bed to lay down, but Salome blindly reached to the collar of the nightdress she wore to still her.
“Where is he?” Salome croaked out through her sobs. “Where is my Garupe?”
Garupe didn’t stop his own cries as he sunk to his knees beside the two, his head shaking as his bottom lip trembled. “I’m right here, my love... I’m sorry.”
Sister only huffed and pushed back Salome’s sweaty locks from her face, holding her cheek on her palm as she used her now-ruined nightgown to begin cleaning the younger woman’s face. “Shh, you are alright,” she lied with a sad smile. “Father Garupe will be home soon, my sweet child.”
“I’m scared,” Salome cried out, trying to push the Sister’s attempt to help her away. She tried to stand once more, only to result the same of falling down. “I want Garupe! I’m scared! Please, please get Garupe!”
The dead priest sobbed as he reached a hand out for her outstretched one, only for the Sister to pull her back and drag her to the bed. He barely registered the other nun passing by for assistance, and ignored how the Sister ordered the other to fetch rags and as much water as possible with Salome breaking down with more cries.
“Salome, stop this,” the Sister chided desperately while the sick woman attempted to fight back. Pinning her red hands back on the bed, the Sister caught her breath as she stared Salome down to submission. “Father Garupe is not here. He is not here, you know this! Listen to yourself, child!”
“I want my Garupe,” Salome sobbed. “I want my Garupe with me… I’m scared.”
“I know, I know,” Sister hushed her, petting her matted hair as the patient began to shiver from the aftermath of the episode. “I know you are scared, sweet child, but you know Garupe is not here. You must relax now.”
“I am cold. I want my Garupe,” she responded, her gaze staring upward with no focus. “Garupe is warm… He always keeps me warm.”
He watched as Sister took a careful breath, her aged fingers continuing to comb through her hair as she carefully shook her head. “I know. I know he kept you warm, darling.”
“I want my Garupe.”
The priest climbed to the edge of the bed, his face still wet and desperate for any signs of being able to touch her, to let her know that he wanted nothing more than to hold his only love in his arms. He felt his soul being torn apart as he tried again and again to hold her hand just once, only to fade through like a ghost. Garupe let out another angered roar as he yanked on his own hair, jumping up to pace around and yell towards the Heaven to be free of this painful event following his death. He couldn’t bear it any longer, being unable to touch or help the one he loved most in her most vulnerable, last state of life.
The Sister slid her hand underneath Salome’s heavy head, pulling her to her chest as she waited for the nun to come back with needed supplies. “I know he kept you warm, my poor, sweet child.”
“I have the distaste for my name. Francisco is the name of my father who bedded my mother, yet I never met him; he left without word to my mother before she birthed me, yet she still named me after him with her surname.”
The sun filtered into the room as Garupe laid next to Salome on the bed that used to be their own sanctuary. The breeze flowed through the makeshift curtain to the small window provided to the tiny, musty chamber, yet Garupe couldn’t feel anything in his current form. He only hoped that the dying woman beside him could relish some sort of the soft winds and sunlight highlighting her pailing body and her sunken face. Despite her physical form of her illness, he couldn’t help but think of her as the most beautiful woman on earth. Garupe had no trouble telling her this whenever she was awake (albeit, remained unheard), even if now he feels just as empty as her face revealed, his love was still strongly bound to her no matter what.
Now, with Salome asleep under the single layer of the blanket provided to her, her breathing so quiet and cracked that it almost reminded him of ocean waves, Garupe found himself spending his time confessing his true troubles and thoughts and memories to no one in particular.
“I remember when we were children, and the monastery called me Francisco,” he sighed. “You became so full of fire with them and demanded that they respected my wish to be called only by Garupe. I remember feeling my heart fly when you did so, saying my name like a song of a lonely singer… I even loved you with all my soul back then.”
Closing his eyes, Garupe bit his lip for a moment. “Even so, loving you, I could never see us leaving the church, no matter how much I wanted to live that life. I would not be able to provide you with any talent outside of being a priest. We wouldn’t live an easy life, yet I know you would stay with me...like when we were children, living in the streets together.
“I know I would love you, no matter what life we would have had together, my lovely Salome,” Garupe confessed softly, whispering as if he was praying to himself. “No matter, I would love you with everything in my power, even in sickness and in health. I only wish I could let you know that I am here with you, my love. I would never let you believe I couldn’t come back to you.”
Salome’s waking moments were of her coughing up blood and shaking, begging to whoever was near to help her as they passed by her marked door. Garupe remained still as he watched her transformation of losing color and shine to her body, her ribs protruding more evident as her belly sank and limbs thinning, all to remain by her side as dedicated as he was in doing the Lord’s work, as he was in traveling to Japan with his friend to find his mentor…
But how he ached to kiss the bruises under her eyes away. To warm her sensitive skin with his fingers and lips and have her cry a different way of pleasure rather than pain. How much he wanted to whisper his love into her ear and heartbeat, and take away all her pain onto his own body so that she may see the children and other sisters who adore her so much. He wanted to stop it all, just for him to take it all away and let the world be at peace for her sake!
Feeling himself space out for a moment, Garupe almost didn’t register the scent of salty water reach his nose and the light tickle of his hair against his cheeks from the breeze, causing him to snap his eyes open. Sitting up, Garupe realized that the bedding he was once laying on was replaced with tall grass and little budding flowers cushioning his body.
Looking forward, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the never-ending sea in the distance, all with the natural sounds of nature of distant birds and waves under a cliff a ways away from the beach. Twisting around, Garupe nearly fell at the way Salome’s body was back to its original form of being full and healthy; the color of her skin returned to a blossoming hue and blush in her new, clean dress that replaced her bloodstained one. Her lips plush and soft as all the bruises to her face vanished like dust, her small hand resting on the rosary he gifted her years ago.
With a shaking hand, Garupe reached to the woman’s other that was resting against the grass with ease. With a moment of hesitating, he slipped his long fingers into her palm, feeling her pulse and warmth of her body against his like he remembered - far better than he remembered from what felt like an eternity ago. His large hand encasing hers, Garupe held back tears as he watched Salome take an easy, smooth intake of breath and turn her head to the side with a sigh.
Looking up to the clear sky - a type he has never seen before but only dreamed with her - Garupe hears the voice finally responding to him that caused his hand around Salome’s to tighten with gratefulness.
A wet smile spreading along his face, Garupe whispered a small thanks before bending down to finally press a kiss to his only love’s cheek to rouse her from sleep.
In a field of flowers by the sea in your dreams.
Fun fact: The point of Garupe’s experience wasn’t as punishment, but because his spirit couldn’t stay away from Salome spiritually until they could reunite c:
I hope you enjoyed this sort of sequel and will let me know what you thought of it. As I’ve said before, I don’t really plan on doing a whole lot with Garupe. Thank you for reading!!
do you have salmone and garupe hc? i absolutly loved your fic
Yes I can!! It will be under cute for sensitive material and if you haven’t seen the movie or read the small blepblep I wrote. You can read it here, if you would like!
Both Garupe and Salome/reader were from the streets before Ferreira took them in and brought them to the monastery. They were close, even in the streets, and were probably already in love by the time Ferreira brought them home.
They knew that each other’s feelings for one another were wrong for their profession, and they would talk for hours about what they should do to fix this. Is it a sin for us to want to love each other more than companions of the church? Will be punished for our desires as lovers? Will we be thrown to Hell for thinking such thoughts?
Surprisingly, Ferreira gave them discrete advice separate from each other that the Lord would want them to feel complete and full.
Ferreira actually gave them a blessing and private ceremony to the Lord of a secret union, when they asked him so. He blessed them in the same way as a matrimony would go.
The Sister who tended to the sick Salome knew of Garupe’s death and informed her of it while she was bed-ridden. Salome had been informed, but her fevers and hallucinations prevented her from remembering.
Sister eventually discovered of the “taboo” relationship she had with Garupe, and it broke the old woman’s heart every time Salome would ask where he was.
Salome was a favorite among the children who lived with the College and often saw her as a motherly figure. Because she and Garupe could not have children in their secret relationship, Salome considered every child she cared for as her own.
Garupe and Salome’s first time was when they were in their late teens (after their ceremony), and in Garupe’s chambers. It was super sloppy and awkward, but the two eventually figured out how to give each other pleasure.
Their rooms were on opposite sides of the College, but Garupe always made it possible for him to sneak around and get into Salome’s room to be with her during the night.
Garupe made Salome’s rosary when she became a fully acknowledged nun with wood and it gave him lots of little cuts on his fingers. In order to keep his surprise, Garupe said he kept tripping from his robe and into the bushes.
Rodrigues eventually got in on it and told Salome the same thing. The three were super tight and rascals as kids.
Before Garupe would leave Salome’s chambers before his duties, he would kiss her forehead and each shoulder as an ‘I love you’ blessing while she slept.
Salome loved tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing them while he fell asleep in her bed. She would also kiss his nose and chest.
Salome possibly died of the plague or an illness, as her symptoms started with being dizzy and passing out, unable to eat, coughing up blood and hallucinating.
Salome would possibly have lived for a month or so before dying in her sleep.
