Author's Note: This imagine is something like a sequel or rather another part apprehended to Take Me To Church and Darker Than Sin which will be simply brief and might be more sophisticated philosophically.

It is a special dedication to Timothy enthusiasts and dearly talented friends of mine such as the lovelies southernauthor Celeste-Moore sociopathsis Trash_Bag_123 Yararebird JunykoWalker k_aldxnx !!

I genuinely hope you like and enjoy this work! ❤️❤️

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--- A Couple of Months Later or So ---

When the relentless progress of the light breeze of the mutable astronomical weather as the seasons' cusp passed with flying colours, the months bled into the late summer indicating its divine apogee of the season and the sweltering climate consuming the August and early September days.

It has been a week since you have lastly seen the priest whom you bestowed one another with your pearly treasured virginity, in fact, you didn't have enough time to separate even to set foot in the chapel where you could commonly encounter him. The job as a librarian in your own library and guiding abundance of new, unfamiliar visitors even communicating with some avid book enthusiasts for a couple of minutes at least refilled your chaotic daily schedule. The sole days when you were solely bestowed with extra time for yourself were the weekend days and having a day-off from the library, in order to compensate your absence in the chapel.

The more your very presence didn't ghostwrite the church interior, more you covet dearly to behold your favorite priest whom you had a gravely close relationship as more than friends whom are hiding their secret affair they're having. Ominously menaced on the verge to lose his own precious career in the diocese, you haven't informed the clergyman about your pregnancy with your one of a kind, marvelous unborn ray of sunshine due to the great medley of hazardous aftermaths anticipating eagerly imbibing the prospect of your nemesis. The British aristocrat's hazardous scandal leaking in the mystically diocese realm along with not being unbearable by any eavesdropped Bostonian's ear, heinously avid to acknowledge another criminally skeptical rumour ghosting the horizon. The ocean of honed fingers at both of you and utmost cynically labelling hostile nicknames about you that have nothing to do with and the immorality submerging its icy nausea the pit of your stomachs. The Cardinal and Father Malachi's sheer, vast disappointment in one of God servants for rebelliously, solemnly altering his grayish lifestyle even having a secret affair with a mere woman that could be his much younger sister.

Moreover, the real motive of evading acknowledging your lover about your unborn child and its recent updates you have been graced with after paying a couple of visits to your doctor that you feared he will be like the other men using their targets of lust and desire to dump their marbled, spongy seeds and despondently rearing up their love children all alone without the aid of another parent. You thought once you frankly informed the British aristocrat that you are both expecting your one of a kind to emerge in the crudely cold, monumental world nonetheless, subsequently he would move in another church to serve solemnly and never behold his youthfully handsome, porcelain complexion with its outstandingly kind, calm blanched ink rigidly imprinting inexorably its authentic art of nonchalance and charisma readable and visible accurately, ever again.

Even though you struggled with your boiling toxic cauldron of fears and bare, monstrous prejudices inexorably plaguing your mind with unimaginable, excessively explicit and sinister to equate the heavy rain of salty tears to strain your facial skin paired with an unspeakable, murderous heartbreak, your final decision to attend the hallowed façade eventually was accomplished.

The wee hours of the noon were victimized viciously by the heavy rain showering the small city of Massachusetts nonchalantly, squarely emphatic when you stepped inside the strangely empty hallowed façade and the whispering docile repercussion feminine footsteps of your classy jet-black comfy, elegant pumps ghostwriting the scarlet aisle flooring and you coasted your E/C bijous to imbibe the sinister vista of loneliness.

Even when you had common interactions with the older gentleman during your loyal, often attendances of the chapel, his lull moments of embarrassingly bashful, dull doldrums rendered him to question your small bump extensive growth through the elapsing days, weeks and months. He could picture the glamorously delightful scenarios of bearing your children and rearing them up together, regardless your occupations and teaching them even loving them preciously from the bottom of your flimsy hearts.

For your own surprise the prospect of the empty chapel's interior didn't mesmerize you at all, in fact, presumably the devotional clergyman was visiting other hallowed sites obligating his very presence momentarily.

The irrevocable, fiendishly frosty rattlesnake bone-chillingly crawled and wavered slowly but surely in your lower abdomen that was slightly chunky than the past weeks and months and losing its real, youthfully default elasticity, ecstatically quivering at every motion whether sluggish or otherwise joyous. The additional weight that was apprehended rapidly rabid to your anatomy highlighted your pregnant façade and nimbly affected your maternal instincts by being incessantly worried for the baby though it hasn't kicked yet. Little did you know how much pressure you are being through lately especially in your second trimester of your very pregnancy and carrying the precious unborn child inside your abdomen as armor. You have paid a visit to your doctor regularly especially per a few weeks, in case to acknowledge the unborn daughter's current condition that was clinged to your womb for a couple of months even if an exceeding woe startled even imperiled not only your life, further the unborn girl.

The suddenness of the contagious sentiment of being stealthily watched with its lethally subtle dark shadows casted in the chapel's outskirts terrifyingly, diabolically blood-curdling wobbling to glaze your throbbing pulsations into your ears and uneven, unhealthily agitated heart sync hammer in your bulkier ribcage when your elvish, stiff hands perched creamily gentle on the bump, in case to convey its meaningful cue to your unbred one of a kind, little ray of sunshine to gingerly, warily motion its premature muscle.

"Y/N!" The stark quiver of Timothy's haphazard appearance bolt from the blue coupled with his velvety, sheepishly silver-tongued voice tingling alarming tones into your vulnerable ears even if he retired from his office and the vehement heart pulsations amplifying fiercely ablaze of the pure overwhelmed adrenaline coursing through your veins, cells and muscles. In the interim, your E/C abysmal depths flicked up promisingly categorical at the larger frame that was slowly but surely, adequately approaching you. A vibrantly vague, candidly benevolent smile blossomed upon his insatiably glossy nude pink, lusciously cherub lips, permeating its marvelously thick, welcoming slit bleeding its genuine, poetic cataract of in seventh heaven, dripping its translucently straightforward stream of thousand patterns of mirth, alight by your very presence surprising him after not beholding one another for awhile.

"T-Timothy!" Opting to assimilate the true, majestically severe, afflictive tension of the atmosphere plaguing icily the church's interior where you and the ambitious Monsignor traded mutually altruistic adequate proximity maintained in a handful of inches only. A vibrantly weak, childlikely excited smile returned the generous, authentic favor when you bore your E/C optics into his twain of coffee brown, vividly shimmering the bold patterns of mirth glazing his recent gazes especially when you were amidst his sole relieves he might find comfort and unconditional love even vast warmness enveloping your bond.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" The initial thought of you crossed his mind and his doe, virginally cinnamon brown depths transfixed on your petite-frame and examining in a scrutiny from head to toes the wickedly anomalous change in your in general until his gaze landed on your petite, orthodoxy creamy hands palming the pregnant belly, attempting to distract him with your meek, humble nod in solemn agreement. "My goodness! Since the last time we have seen each other, I can tell you've really changed."

"Not exactly! We've seen each other like a week ago or so." The gloomily ironic chide foreshadowed the subsequence of your emphatic position when the British aristocrat retired to one of the polished pews to manage to usher you to participate in the platonically intimate space you maintained. In the meantime, you registered to march up to the pew and seating alongside him without having any intentions of lifting your paws from the pregnant belly. The soar thickness of the lump bulged up your feminine Adam's apple when the pious clergyman detected your childlike, indisputably unmistakable self-consciousness during your iron-willed attempts to obscure it at the moment until you decide to leak in the ideal, celestially gilt moment. "I was just really busy in the library and having somehow physical and mental anomalies that every woman is being through, you know!" A sheepishly girlish, coy smile curled upon your cherub lips nervously smooth ingraining the initial profuse layer of trepidation infernally readable not only across your softened facial attributes, further the oral dim slit permeated past your mouth.

"You can tell me anything! Don't be shy!" Gingerly crooking his fingers around the unruly fistful of strands merrily hanging sloppy your scalp until he manipulated his pristinely protective, palish fingers to tuck cozily the stray strands behind your flexible ear, whereas you struggled to snort through your nose quietly, shyly the pungent fragrance of masculine, infernally tempting cologne and gardenias. "I won't judge, Y/N!"

A long minute of demonical, resiliently comforting doldrum settled in the empty hallowed building which was solely occupied by you and the British compatriot's very presences, fleetly composing its peacefully phenomenal horripilation's symphony enduring for a minute at least except the multi-voiced participants of the hitched heavier breathing constricting your ribcages and uncomfortable volatile series of inward, indiscernible inhales pounding your bosoms. Even the silence has its own pluses. A verbal contact could be somehow futile to dedicatedly, solemnly melt in the hush's benevolently embrace, enveloping your very identities and swaddling you warmly. The persistent attempts to sort your mind and to craft the rationally logical words in your impending utterance after the vowels and syllables mellowly faultless erected your very thoughts to demonstrate your actual position.

"I-I'm pregnant with our baby!" The haphazardness of the venomous serpentine tongue's nimbleness conjugating the amorous, outspoken revelation in a handful of demure, fashionable stutters, rhythmically spooky syncing with your severe, vigorous heart drums in your chest and hammers in your eardrums, when the older gentleman maneuvered his masculinely strong, silkenly muscly arm to meander around your middle and granting you myriad of unconditional love, heavenly warmness and hair-rising consolation.

"Pregnant with our lovely little cherub angel?" A docilely angelic, promising bob of your head in the strong agreement maneuvered the older man to paw your pair of hands clawing delicately your bump. "That's good. I'm genuinely happy we will expect it quite soon the new addition to us." On reflex you dropped your head on his broad, muscly shoulder for multiplying the mischievously celestial comfort after breaking the good news to the British aristocrat.

"I'm sincerely happier."

"Y/N, I've something to confess to you!"

"Go for it, Timothy!" The soothing honey transmuting your lowered decibels on minimum scale into a docile, humble mumble tingled angelic anthems into Timothy's ears until his orthodoxy meaty, alabaster fingers kneaded on circles incessantly your brittle knuckles and fists.

"Since the first moment we encountered each other, something about you aroused my fiery interest! I'm prone to behold it with my own eyes that the first ever girl to break this curse after dedicating my life to the church and God when I was slightly older than you." At the moment a sharp exhale pronged your frail lungs and coursing through your tiny, flexible nostrils when you utterly molted in the priest's brace at last. "I was young and I'm still young. I'm realizing I've missed so much of my adulthood yet. I've plenty of adventures awaiting me even new, brilliantly fantastic experiences to hobble my way." Stifling a flabbergasted, breathy gasp to bubble up from your throat, you managed rattling your front ivory, firm teeth to nibble the delicate spot of your bottom cherub lip idly, uneasily. "I was thinking in the past weeks I could resign from the church and spend the eternity with you. Just both of us in a small, cute cottage house located in the countryside. My family was never fond of my decision to take my vows and join the priesthood emphatically especially my parents since they want grandchildren from each heir of their, including me."

"D-Do you truly mean all this?" Swapping mutually kindhearted, headstrongly stable ogles spearing one another's enchanting facial attributes, little did you know his naturally baby-pinkish, scrumptiously plumpish lips whose mouth pursued to seal eventually. "That you've thought of fleeing the church because of me?"

"I truly mean it, my rare bird!" Sealing abruptly, deftly your lips with his in a brief, steamy kiss and thereafter nuzzling mutually featherly-soft, tenderly your noses his mouth sloppily elaborated a low, silver-tongued hum as your hearts raced rapidly rabid. "You opened my eyes about the life and the ocean of hopes that await me eventually. I couldn't be more grateful for this!"

"B-But what about your vows? What about your future career to keep us with a roof over our heads?"

"You aren't presumed to be worried about it at all. I'm immensely rich though I'm planning to work as a Latin teacher in a small school where the community is fairly kindhearted."

"Your vows?" The friendly reminder conveying its urgent message to the British compatriot to bestow you with the answer your inquiry insisted caught him off guard, gliding your figure towards his.

"I don't care about my vows anymore. There is abundance of other ways to help the helpless and hopeless souls even if the vows are absent." Pressing an affectionately feather-soft, dainty peck on top of your head, his fidgety fingers circled its massage on your fists yet and lingering his sympathetically benevolent, vibrantly affable smile embellishing exquisitely his porcelain, young-looking yet complexion. "We've a whole life to plan together our futures and everything that eagerly awaits us. Come on, my bird! To leave this helpless, unpromising place for better future!" When his grip encouragingly ushered both of you to lift up your rears from the lacquered pew and slowly but surely ambling up to the monumentally double door, stilling your dropped head on his shoulder conveniently.