❛ what is sin, if it feels more like truth than prayer ever did? ❜ ───────── · · ───────── ゛𝓘𝗡 𝓦𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛. . . ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ 𝓭𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝔀𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 was raised on open fields and early mornings, the kind of boy who learned right from wrong before he ever learned what he wanted. faith was stitched into him just as tightly as guilt-every thought measured, every feeling questioned, every desire something to be answered for. 𝓶𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝓻𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 built himself into something untouchable. sharp, controlled, respected-the kind of man who didn't leave room for mistakes, let alone something as messy as longing. chief of the er, steady hands, unreadable eyes. he didn't blur lines. he was the line. to dennis, he was everything he wasn't supposed to want. to michael, he was something dangerously easy to care for. they kept their distance. they had to. a touch that lingered too long, a look held just a second too much-always explainable, always forgivable. and when michael came back-closer, softer, without hesitation. dennis didn't know if it was a miracle or a 𝓼𝗶𝗻 he was finally being punished for. ───────── · · ───────── 𝓣𝐒┆GUILTY AS SIN ꪆৎ ˚ ( dennis whitaker x michael robinavitch ) © scudervia , 2026 original layout by -reputationn !!