Oh lord more knight!reader and priest!Suguru thoughts. On the topic that reader wouldn't treat him as an equal, I think Suguru would almost encourage it. He's young, he's pretty, and you can't bring yourself to take him seriously. He just looks like a kid in robes, like the new recruits you help train to be your replacements one day. Suguru smiles with no teeth and looks at you with his sly fox eyes, and perhaps you let yourself be more entertained than you should be because he's too damn young to be a proper member of the clergy, which otherwise would make him untouchable.
He clings to you and guides you on too long walks that make your hip ache, chatters about the history of your city that you've never bothered to learn beyond the battles, because all that city planning nonsense is someone else's job. You know your city in and out, every house you've crossed on patrols for the better part of 30 years, all the gates you've pored over thinking about how best to defend them if the worst comes to pass and you lose all else.
Suguru doesn't really notice the source of your silence but senses the shift anyway and teases you in a silly, unknowingly tactless way. He looks so pretty right now, dressed in his long, embroidered robes not fit for battle, walking with light feet.
You feel a little appreciation for the kid, all of a sudden. And a little bloom of warmth further down, but that's something you're used to ignoring. You have no doubt he's making very good use of his looks and status to charm everyone who ever frequents that damned cathedral. Pesky little monk refusing to leave you alone, batting his dark lashes at you, staring at you like you're a puzzle to crack.
Sigh @mossmotif has me thinking about jaded knight reader x young bishop Suguru.... Maybe they're not old by our standards but prematurely grey, a body knotted with muscle that's starting to soften out with age, covered in scars, crows feet gathered around their eyes... Dressed in bulky leather and maille with fine rivets betraying their status. Only the best get to live so long when they dedicate their entire life to servitude.
And fresh faced Suguru, newly moved in to the capital by a noble as the new bishop, who can't resist the impulse to teach an old dog new tricks. He sees the worry in your eyes, the way your hands shake slightly when you pray. It used to be just a ceremonial thing but Suguru is gently ushering you deeper into the house of god, turning it into the pillar you need. He knows what you are, he knows you need outside guidance, you're not used to navigating the world without your king, but you can't depend on him anymore. The man is going mad, and inadvertently pushing his most competent knight right into Suguru's arms.
LONG utc!!! Not smut just m rated | tagging @faiyhe
You're not used to giving yourself luxuries. Suguru gets his kicks out of pulling out the church's wines and cheeses when you come over, and makes a point to walk you through the beautiful inner courtyard of his church while you follow behind him, stony faced. He loves the confusion and guilt in your eyes, the way you flinch away from allowing yourself to become soft after an entire life of routine. You're famous in the kingdom for being the perfect balance of what a knight should be: a warrior poet, well read and noble; a strong and well trained fighter; and also someone humble like a dog, willing to throw their entire life away for their king's wars. In your confessions Suguru can't help but be enchanted by how you talk. He reads your poems, about the places you've seen and conquered in the name of an old man who's rotting away on his throne. He wants that for himself.
Suguru almost stalks you, appearing in dinners at the court and greeting you when he meets with your king and you're part of his entourage. These are strange times after all, and the crown needs to be protected. Suguru notices the way your grip is almost slack, when usually it's renowned for its steadiness. As your faith wavers you've seemed to lose interest in your work. He knows you no longer believe in your cause.
You come to mass more often and he hears you've even deigned to get yourself a proper bed, instead of sleeping on hay like a monk. You comment how it's been good on your back and Suguru trembles a bit. The lines around your mouth get deeper when you smile indulgently at him and call him "bishop" like one would indulge a child. He mentions a hot spring not far from the city and you confess you've been putting off the desire to go for a long time. Suguru convinces you to go and sighs to himself when he can't accompany you, or casually plan an overlapping trip to the same place. Not even the layers of cloth and metal you wear can fully mask your bulk, your calloused hands. He wants to see more.
As the kingdom falls into ruin you become apathetic. Suguru has been managing to shepherd you into the confession booth more often than not these days. You don't like the king anymore, you don't like how the once steady man is now plunging your home into chaos. It is not god's will, you say, and Suguru nods indulgently, following the wrinkles in your forehead and the silver flashes in your hair. You wear more armour now, as the cold and the war set in, slouching in the tiny wooden box that can barely fit your bulk. You refuse to put down your weapons, even in a house of god. Suguru knows you're arguing with most of your old friends, who are either fleeing or vying for the throne themselves. One of the king's bastard sons hovers on the eastern border. Suguru goes to the castle to watch you train, his cock stirring when you land brutal blows on a wooden training dummy with your longsword.
When Suguru mentions your skills later and laughs about feeling protected you thumb your knife and keep silent, looking up into the cathedral's pillars. You hum with something that might be assent, and he realises you treat him differently now. You're not indulging a kid, someone who rose through the ranks too fast and has a job he doesn't deserve. You're talking to him as an equal, and there's a weary flicker of warmth in your eyes when you call him "bishop". His stomach flips.
And then one night, dark and still, when you slink in through the side door and sit silent in the pews for hours, when Suguru stands at the altar and watches as you try to forget the nightmares that plague you, the front door groans open. Two knights burst through the tense silence and leave muddy footprints on the stone floor, their cries bouncing off every wall. Suguru is about to vault the altar, draw the knife he's not supposed to have- but you beat him to the punch and meet the men halfway.
It's impossible that someone can move that silent and swift, with only a few rustles of maille. You take both of them head on, drawing a short sword from your belt, not bothering to say a word. It only takes a few seconds, and two heavy thumps hitting the floor, before Suguru knows it's all over.
In the dim candlelight you kneel down and wipe your sword on one of the men's capes. As your form straightens up again and you come out of the shadows, into the moonlight of the altar, he notices some blood on your clothes. You pause a step below him, separated by the cold marble of the altar, solemn.
"I couldn't let them kill a servant of god. I couldn't let them kill... you." Your eyes give nothing away, indifferent to the minute spray of blood near your hip. Indifferent to how Suguru's cock stirs below his robes.
"I'm going to fix it all." It sounds like a promise, and all of a sudden your eyes won't leave his. "It's my job to protect this kingdom, and everything in it. I stood back for so long, because I was lost. But no more of that."
Suguru leans closer, wetting his lips, watching as the final puzzle piece falls into place. He brushes a hand over your shoulder and yours snaps up to hold it in place. Your rough, broken hand and his long, pretty one, stained with ink. He leans down, over the altar, and finally captures your lips with his own.
