MCR Imagines And Oneshots

♡"For I haven't sinned | G.W.

(A/n)

Requested by liquid_dio

Priest Gerard, my beloved

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Random, I'm just curious, but how old do you guys think I am, based on my writing?

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CW: this approaches and mocks Christian topics

Not me having an idea for a part two of this

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"It's basic biology-"

"Basic biology from how long ago?" I breathe, already tired of the pointless discussion. "I mean, gender is just a social construction, after all. Or what are you going to tell me? God came down from the sky and told every girl should wear pink and dresses, and every boy should wear blue and pants, and that's it? Or someone read it on DNA codes that girls should, dunno, sit down with their legs closed and boys can take up the whole seat with their fucking legs open? Please, like if things just stopped there, even." I roll my eyes, averting my attention away from my parents to the church we walk towards.

"You shouldn't talk about God like that," my mother reprehends me with a glare, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed into a thin, displeased line. "Watch your mouth, little (girl/boy)!" And, like always, my father only complains in the background, low grumbles barely coherent, but with obvious disapproval. Like if I cared.

It isn't any busy time in the church, so there aren't many people around besides the person cleaning the church while the priest stands by the main doors, seeming to have been waiting for us for some good minutes already.

"Father Way, good morning!" My mom has the sweetest smile ever on her face while my dad nods respectfully and it's like if all the bitterness from earlier has never existed.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. (l/n)," father Way greets back with a smile before his eyes land on me. He's young, at least younger than I expected him to be, but I don't think it'll continue to be much of an advantage anymore if that twenties looking face actually hides the mind of a conservative idiot from two centuries ago. "And you must be..."

"(Y/n)," I cut him off, pressing my lips together into a fake smile , entertained by the amused face he pulls on. At least, he doesn't question it or my parents' displeasure – which isn't even half as bad as what it can be when they aren't pretending to be perfect.

"Oh, alright, it's nice to meet you, (y/n)," he says calmly, nodding slowly. He shoots me a look before turning to my parents. "So... I'll be here with (y/n) until noon, if it's alright."

"Of course!" My mother claps, laughing a bit, but it sounds so forced that I almost physically cringe. "Take the time you need to, anything to bring our (girl/boy) back to Jesus!" She wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my cheek, having a wide and over sympathetic smile on her lips. "We trust your job, father Way!" She reaches forward to place a hand around his arm in a sign of demonstrating her trust, I presume, but, even if so subtle, the manner father Way's eye twitches and he steps back as soon as she lets go demonstrates he wasn't so fond of that.

"Thank you, a lot, and don't worry about anything." The priest smiles, motioning for me to follow him as he steps back into the church. "(He/She) is in good hands."

"We know so," my mother adds and keeps saying useless things, reminders like if I was a five-year-old left with a babysitter for the first time, but it's actually me supposed to be corrected by some church guy because I don't agree with what's written on a two-hundred-old book that also says it's a sin to use clothes made out of two different fabrics.