summary: instead of timothy being assaulted by mary eunice, the reader is in his place. finding them in the middle of it, timothy is outraged and vows to never let you get hurt again. he even goes as far as taking you with him to new york, where he reveals to you just how far he would go to protect you.
pairing: monsignor timothy howard x reader
word count: 2.3k words
warnings: ASSAULT. like. not too much into it, but the reader is assaulted by a possessed!mary eunice. so please, please, please. DO NOT read this, if that is going to do anything to you. slight NSFW scene because of the assault. but it is literally the minimum. possibility of ooc timothy howard. reader is catholic in this.
author’s notes: please for the love of everything good and holy DO NOT read this if assault will trigger anything. i’m not too sure where this came from. i really wanted to write a timothy howard thing and then this was born, shortly after i started playing anson seabra (which broken is one of the songs that inspired whatever the hell this is). i, uh, hope someone out there enjoys this train wreck
Your knuckles rapped at the wooden door to the Monsignor’s office. You heard him clear his throat before saying, “Come in.” And as you opened the door, you noticed that Sister Jude was also in there. She cast an annoyed look towards you, her back leaning into the chair she sat in.
“Monsignor,” you gave a hesitant smile towards the priest. “I was hoping that you would have a moment, but I can tell you’re busy. I’ll come back later—”
“No, Sister,” he quickly spoke. “Sister Jude was just leaving. Isn’t that right?” he asked, looking over at the nun.
Jude pursed her lips but nodded, standing up. “We will finish our conversation later, Monsignor.”
He gave a tight lipped smile before she left, leaving you standing at the door.
“Come on in,” he said, motioning towards the now empty chair. “Shut the door behind you.”
You did as you were told, shutting the door and coming over to sit down. You sat there for just a moment, trying to gather your thoughts before you looked up, your eyes meeting with the Monsignor’s.
“Is there something wrong, Sister [Your name]?”
You shook your head, but stopped yourself. “I… I think,” you messed with the edge of your sleeve, frowning deeply. “No. No, I know this. There is something going on with Sister Mary Eunice.”
He blinked slowly at you, raising an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“Monsignor, I know how it sounds. Absurd. But there is something going on with her. I cannot tell you what it is, but she isn’t the same.”
“Is that all you wish to speak with me about?” he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t believe you. You knew immediately.
Clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, that’s all, Monsignor Timothy.”
“Well, then, please show yourself out. I need to get a move on with these papers,” he spoke, not looking at you now.
You had to do something about this. No one believed you, and it was obvious.
—
Weeks had passed since your last proper conversation with Father Timothy. Sister Jude had been revoked of her status and she had actually become a patient at the hospital. You didn’t know what was worse—the fact that one of your sisters was now a patient, or the fact that Mary Eunice still walked around and no one expected anything.
For the hours that you were not needed with your job, you stuck to your bedroom. And at the moment, you were folding some of your clothes, putting them into your dresser drawer. There weren’t many inspections for the Sisters in this asylum, but it didn’t help to already be tidy so when it did happen, you didn’t have much to do.
Sitting on the edge of your bed, you finished folding a couple pieces of underwear when there was a knock at your door.
You looked up, frowning. “Come in.”
Sister Mary Eunice stood there, flashing you a quick smile as the door opened. “[Your name]. Just the person I wanted to talk to.”
You slowly sat the last pair of underwear that you had folded down, frowning over at the woman. “Can I help you? What do you need?”
“You’re the only person that can help me with this, [Your name],” she said, coming over and sitting down beside you. She took the underwear and tossed them on the floor, that same smile remaining on her lips. “[Your name],” she said, grabbing onto your wrist. “I see how you look at me.”
“What?” you deadpanned at the woman, trying to pull your wrist away. But her grip was tight. It was obvious that she wasn’t about to let you go.
She forcefully pushed you onto your back. Your head hit your pillow, and your headcovering slowly began to come off. She smirked down at you, pinning your hips underneath her with her own legs.
“Tell me, [Your name],” she said, moving down to kiss your jaw. Her hot breath fanned your neck. “You joined the Church at such a young age. Practically forced into the religion. I’m sure you’ve never been touched, have you?”
“W-what? Mary Eunice, please get off of me, I have no idea what you are implying, but I am not interested—”
She took in a breath, her smirk only growing. “Oh, dear, you’re still a virgin. We can’t have that, now, can we?” She grabbed your veil and tugged it off, watching your hair fall around your shoulders.
“Sister Mary Eunice, please. Stop it,” you said, your neck and face burning red with anxiety. Your heart pounded in your head, and you could hardly think straight as you felt her hand inch down to underneath your robes.
“You can’t tell me you don’t want this,” she grinned, pressing a rough kiss to your lips. You were sure with the force she used that your lips would be bruised.
“No, no, I don’t,” you let out, tears forming in your eyes as you felt the woman force her fingers into you. “Please. Please, Sister, please stop,” you begged, trying to sit up. With her other hand, she grabbed your wrists and held them in place.
But her assault only lasted for a couple more seconds as your door was opened for the second time that evening. Monsignor Timothy stood there, a shocked expression on his face before he looked at your state and then to Mary Eunice.
“Get off of her,” he spat, quickly rushing over. Without giving it much thought, he pushed Mary Eunice off of you. It didn’t take much, but you only assumed that was because Mary let him.
The Monsignor quickly pushed your dress down, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.
“[Your name],” he breathed out. “Are you okay?” he asked, guilt washing over him as he wiped your tears away.
“I told you.” You let out a soft sob, wrapping your arms around the man’s torso. His eyes widened a bit but he quickly hugged you back, glaring over at where Mary Eunice once stood. She was nowhere to be found, but he was sure that he would see her again.
“I.. I know you did. And I am so sorry. Sister, I will never let you out of my sight. This will never happen to you, again. I give you my word.”
You buried your face in his chest, trying to calm yourself down.
His embrace made you feel better, but it didn’t erase the fact that you had just been assaulted by someone who should have protected your soul and your dignity. Taking in a deep breath, you looked up at Timothy, your teeth taking in your bottom lip. You were just trying to calm down, at this point.
Timothy hushed you, gently running his fingers through your hair. It was all he knew to do to at least try and comfort you.
—
Seeing Mary Eunice again made you want to cry. But in this case of seeing her, you were leaving for New York with Monsignor Timothy. He kept his promise to you—he kept his eyes on you, and now, he was taking you along for his new position as the Cardinal-Archbishop of New York. You would be there for him, and he would be there for you.
You put your last suitcase in the back of his car, casting one last glance towards Briarcliff.
“You know,” you breathed out, looking towards Timothy as you did so. “I hate to say that I will not miss this place.”
He gave you a faint smile, chuckling softly. “I understand what you mean.” He looked back at it, before he went and opened the passenger door for you. You got in and he shut it, and then got in on the driver’s side. “Are you sure you want to come to New York with me?”
“Yes. I’m positive, Monsignor.”
He gave you yet another smile. “How many times have I told you to just call me Timothy? Especially since we’ll be driving all the way to New York. Enough with the formalities.”
You smiled in return. “You’re right, Timothy. Sorry.”
You looked in one of the mirrors on the side of the car, and you just watched the mental asylum get smaller and smaller as Timothy drove away.
You were unsure of your feelings towards timothy—ever since he saved you, you couldn’t help but feel inclined to have feelings for him. And with the religion. As much as you wanted to believe, there were times when you felt yourself slipping. However, despite all of this, you were grateful for Timothy and every string he has pulled to take you along with him. Had it not been for him, you might have not ever gotten out of there, let alone lived for as long as you have.
Clearing his throat to get your attention, Timothy began to speak.
“You know. I thought that I would mention this.” he looked out the window, one hand on the steering wheel as he drove. “When we get there. If you decide that you no longer want to be a part of the church…”
This caught your attention and you looked over at the man.
“I would go with you.”
Your eyes widened a bit and you stared him down. “What?”
“My title is paper only, at the moment. I have yet to go through the ceremony. But, I would back out of it. For you.”
“Are you crazy?” you watched him in disbelief. “Where is all of this coming from, Timothy? You’ve never mentioned anything like this before.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “[Your name],” he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Surely, this isn’t something you haven’t thought about.”
“Well,” you blushed. “I thought that we had gotten close. But I believed it was circumstantial. Never would I have thought that you returned my feelings—”
“—returned?”
As soon as the word had left your mouth, your face burned red. Of course, in a moment of trying to convince the Monsignor to continue on with his path in the church, you expressed that you felt the same way he did.
You looked away, leaning against your hand as you did so.
“You’ve worked hard to be where you are, Timothy. I don’t want to ruin that for you.”
He chuckled softly. “I know I’ve worked hard to be where I am. But I’ve also thought about this on more than one occasion… and I have never wanted to leave the church more, to be with you. I would give it all up.”
“Since when did you start feeling this way?”
Timothy clenched his jaw as he thought for a moment. “The night that I had walked in on Mary Eunice hurting you. I had plans on discussing my feelings for you. We have known each other for so long. I do believe that is one of the reasons I had started to believe you after you said that Mary had something wrong with her. And then, when I went to say something about it, about everything, it was far too late and far, too, a bad moment.”
You purse your lips at the mention of your assault, but you looked over at him.
“It was what I had been talking to Sister Jude about shortly before you showed up at my door. She believed that I was throwing everything away. After you left, I realized that what I had been feeling was true. I… apologize for how long it has taken for me to realize that I needed to tell that to you. And I sincerely apologize for me just now telling you this, when you were prepared to become a Sister in New York.”
“A new start.” you said.
“What?”
You began to smile. “You should think of it as a new start. We’ll be in a new place. And… we have hours more to discuss everything. I… should tell you that I feel the same way. And you’ve no need to apologize for just now realizing. I’m sure it took a lot for you to turn away from the Church after you’ve spent so long to get where you are, now.”
His expression softened at your words. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you took a hold of his free hand. It wasn’t that you scared him, he just didn’t expect you to do it.
“Thank you for saving me, Timothy. And thank you, for telling me that. All of it.”
He couldn’t help but smile. In the hours to come, the two of you would talk about what you would do once you got to the Church. How you would resign, where you would live. There was a lot to discuss, but just like you told Timothy, you reminded yourself that it was a new start. Unexpected, but new.
If anything out of what Timothy talked to you about, it would be the fact that he did feel so strongly about you—he wouldn’t give up his title or position for just anyone. What he felt about you was real. Faults, and all. All your trauma, all your self doubt, everything.
He would never reveal this to you, even though the two of you would eventually marry and settle down close to the Catholic church that you still attended, but he honestly didn't know what enticed him to give it all up. Something overcame him. Something directed him in your direction and he knew that he had to follow it. Perhaps, after all of his hard work, it was God showing His hand and giving him you. One of the best things that had happened in his long, God-loving life. That, and the new start that both of you were given.
