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totalswag · 15 days ago

Note

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena.

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest.

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder.

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows.

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone.

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you.

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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teletubbyinlipstick · 2 months ago

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Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader Rambles

Once again, I'm unsure what to say. I get high, I get horny for these men, and then I hallucinate scenarios with said men. Please enjoy, please feel free to send in anything about these boys! Requests are open! I really like this idea, and I might continue to add on to it. https://www.tumblr.com/teletubbyinlipstick/760241391145238528/more-hybridpoly-tf141-x-reader-pleaaasseeeee?source=share heres the second part!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OwlHybridAU!

Captain Price has big wings. When spread, they're just shy of 26 ft. A beautiful array of ash and brindle the feathers are easily the length of your arm. He keeps them tucked nicely, looking smaller than they are. On the field, if it ever comes down to it and he needs his wings, the look on enemies' faces when they spread is, in Soaps words,"so fuckin hot."

No one disagrees.

Johnny's wings are a bit smaller, around 18ft they're a deep honey brown. In the light, in-between the feathers, an indigo blue shines just slightly. His are more pointy at the end, a ripple effect used for disguising. Simon loves nothing more than to preen him.

Usually it ends with Johnny face down, high whimpers in his throat.

Speaking of Simon, he has the biggest wings in TF141 at 30ft. They're midnight black with streaks of white. When he's moving fast, they look almost like lightning across a black sky. His second layer of feathers is a dark gray. It's hard to notice the difference, but once you do, it's harder not to notice. He's intimidating. He knows.

It's his kink.

Gaz has the prettiest wings, 20ft, and the sweetest cocoa color. He has dirty blonde undertones that fade into pure auburn. His feathers get ruffled a little easily and the boys love teasing him for it.

It's a group effort to preen his wings.

Now theres you, new to the group, younger than them at early-mid twenties. Assigned as a mate for the boys by the government in hopes of reproducing strong genes. You're a sweet little thing, lithe with a pudgy tummy. Your wings are only 15ft. And very fluffy, a gorgeous cream with strawberry blonde highlights. The edges appear light tawny.

You're very beautiful. And the boys fall in love almost immediately upon receiving your file. They nest for you, soft blankets and pillows and sweatshirts placed in the rec room for a cozy habitat. They're keen to meet you, forgoing preening their feathers the night before in hopes of pack bonding tomorrow with you.

So imagine when you end up being the most reclusive, quiet church mouse they've ever met. You speak maybe 3 sentences in total at the meeting. You were quick to bat Johnny's hand away when he reached for your shoulder for a friendly pat. Feathers ruffling just slightly.

They backed off.

Simon stood quiet the whole time, eyes zeroed in on you. Assessing.

They showed you the loft to your room. Simon kept a polite distance, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Gaz and Johnny were waiting for Price to make the first move and let you know about the nest they had secured for you in the rec area. But when you politely and quickly excused yourself and darted inside, closing the door with the resounding click. They realized you weren't going to the nest. Nor were you going to the rec room in general.

They slept in their shared king bed. The nest left cold and barren. Tears were wiped from Gaz's eyes, sweet cooing coming from the bed as the boys sought solstice for each other.

No one dried your tears, and you stayed curled in the corner of your bed. Scared. Alone. And unsure what the future will bring.

#imagines #one shot #idk how to tag this #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny mactavish #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #im not well #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #taskforce 141 x reader #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader

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ddejavvu · 2 months ago

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mean!logan noticing you’re obsessed with his biceps so he makes you use them to get off one day >:)))

Greed - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: mean!logan, degradation, arm/bicep fucking, strength/power imbalance, don't like don't read

thank you to @hanasnx for helping me workshop some possible positions, even if mine differs slightly from indy's 2 examples i had to consult the arm kink professional for guidance

"'Wish you'd speak up for yourself," Logan grunts one day, voice free of criticism but scrutinizing all the same, "Would be a hell of a lot easier to get you off."

"What?" You blink bewilderedly at him, watching as he slings a wife beater over his head, the white fabric barely stretching to cover his broad chest.

"Every time I flex my arms in front of you, you get all crazy. You never say it," Logan stands at the foot of the bed, watching as you squirm, "But I always smell it."

"Your arms are nice." You supply weakly, throat suddenly dry and hollow, "I like them."

"I know." Logan laughs, a huff that's not mean but might as well be for the way it mortifies you, "Like I said, I can tell. But you never say anything, honey. Why's that?"

You detest the way his attention is fixated solely on you. It makes you writhe in your seat, it makes an ache throb between your legs while your brain desperately grasps at straws to figure out what to say.

"I dunno," Is the brilliant response you land on, and his chest rocks with a silent scoff.

"I know why," He prods, crossing his arms. The arms that you can't stop thinking about. "You think talking about what you like is dirty, and you think you're oh-so-pure. But I can smell you- you smell filthy. You're no saint. I've had you choking on my cock before, you're not fooling me. So what do you want?"

Your eyes fall to his arms without any thought behind the motion. He notices, of course, because he's studying you for any miniscule reaction.

"That's not enough." Logan growls, frustration tinging his gruff voice, and you're sure he's smelling the growing arousal between your thighs, "I said tell me."

"I- I want..." You falter, the words on the tip of your tongue but more raunchy than you'd ever be brave enough to voice.

"If you can't ask for it, you're not getting it." Logan decides, the muscles in his biceps flexing as he tightens the way they're crossed against his chest.

You consider abandoning ship. Seceding into silence, and letting Logan down as well as yourself. Taking the safe route.

But you're throbbing. You're aching, Logan's scrutiny combined with the look of his flexed arms is sending you into overdrive, and there's a steady heartbeat between your thighs that's begging for attention. It works the same way booze does, emboldening you, and you blurt out with courage never-before-seen, "I want to ride your arms."

He looks half impressed that you'd said anything at all, and half stunned that you'd said that much, that plainly.

His brows raise, bushy and angled to create a perfect arch.

"Wow. Pretty nasty stuff." He muses, faux-considerate as if he hadn't demanded a voice from you. Still, he doesn't move- so why had he asked?

You shift gently in your seat, but his eyes track your every move like a hunter.

"Well," He lingers in place, arms still crossed, the perfect eye-candy for you, "You gonna say please, or what?"

"Please," You blurt with burning cheeks, and he snickers at your eagerness.

"See? You're not so sweet." He advances, arms coming uncrossed to brace his weight on the bed, meaning thick cords of muscle strain against the confines of his skin, showcased as he crawls towards you, "You couldn't even remember to say please, just demanded to get off on me like I'm some toy."

"Logan, that's not-"

"Inconsiderate." He decides, eyes on your body instead of your face as he scans over your thinly-clad chest, "You're only in it for the sex, aren't you, you little minx?"

"Stop." You plead, feeling as dirty as his words imply. You're not- Logan is the love of your life, but you won't pretend you hate sex with him. But he's making you feel so dirty, like a fiend who wants nothing but his dick.

His hand trails between your thighs but it's different this time, and his fingers toy with your clit only as a prerequisite. You let him open you up, you let his fingers ease your muscles looser as his mouth eases your own loose. His tongue dips inside and licks you into submission, your brain activity lowering the more he kisses you. He soon snakes his arm between your legs, offering you up your real prize: the thick, muscular width of his bicep.

It's an awkward angle, you won't lie. But squeezing your thighs around his arm presses delicious friction against your clit, and the rocking of your hips is an instinct more than it is a thought-out motion.

Logan rests on his stomach on the bed, his arm stretched out in front of him to provide your seat. It means he has to crane upwards to see you, and you thank his supernatural strength for the way that he doesn't break a sweat as you rub yourself wantonly on his arm. His face is not exactly at your own level, which means you can't kiss him silly like you want to. But craning his neck upwards means that his face lands between your tits, and you feel the rough burn of his scruff against your skin as he nestles into your warm skin.

Logan is, perhaps, the ideal individual to suit your cravings for arm muscles. Not only does he have the perfect build, but his increased strength means that he's able to bare his bicep for you to get off on, even lifting it off of the bed to offer you increased friction. Perhaps a normal man would tire in seconds, but Logan- Logan could hold on longer than you.

Grinding against the plentiful mass of muscle in his bicep means that you're rutting up against him, and you have to spread your legs as far apart as possible to ensure that your cunt is met with the already-slickened surface of Logan's bare arm. You're making a mess despite still being in your pajamas, because the shorts you'd been sleeping in offer very little fabric to defend Logan's skin from your copious arousal.

Logan nips at a spot on your left breast, humming gruffly into your chest as you gasp slightly at the intrusion. It breaks your concentration and you have to grip harder at the sheets to fall back into your laborious rhythm.

"Not easy, hm? You've gotta work for it," Logan grunts, mouth moving against your chest as he takes a nipple into his mouth, "Nasty girl, 's a real workout to fuck this dirty, isn't it?"

"Logan, I- I'm not dirty," You whimper, tears beading in your eyes at his gruff accusations, "I'm not."

His laugh is more of a bark than anything, and he ducks his head away from your chest to point with his chin at the mess you're making on his arm.

"That's not dirty? You're dripping- you're making a real mess'a my arm, sweetheart. Dirty little cunt's drooling all over me."

The image of your slick coating Logan's arm, glistening against his muscles throws your pleasure into overdrive. Your orgasm rapidly approaches, the memory of his fingers inside of you only minutes before making up completely for the lack of penetration you get from his bicep. You squeeze your thighs even tighter around Logan's arm, pinning it to your cunt with an almost painful force as you hump against it desperately.

"You're fucking filthy." Logan hisses against your tits, taking one in between his teeth and biting, hard, "Humping my arm like a damn dog. Feel good, honey? Feel how strong I am?"

He flexes harder, tenses his muscles just that much more, and you feel them stiffen impossibly harder beneath your pussy. It's that and the way he mouths at your tits, growling such indecent accusations into their flushed warmth that sends you over the edge, a feeble cry escaping your lips as your hips begin trembling, twitching as you grind against his arm impossibly faster to fulfil your orgasm.

You're sure the bedsheets have suffered your release as much as Logan's arm has, but he's never seriously chided you for making a mess, and you're sure he won't this time. He groans himself as you ride through your orgasm on his arm and you realize only now as you come down from your high that he's been rutting against the mattress, cock still trapped in the confines of his sweatpants. If he hasn't managed to get off on the mattress you'll help him now, granting him access to all the slick warmth that his arm provided.

Now the pressure of his bicep is overstimulating as it presses constantly against your cunt and you ease off of it, giving Logan a prime view of your ruined, sensitive cunt as you whine at the sensitivity.

"Impressive," He hums, "Never thought I'd have you rubbing all over my arm like that."

"It's really strong. You're- you're really strong, Logan, it's nice."

"Yeah?" He grins, more of a smirk perhaps, as something sharp invades his eyes, "All that muscle gets you going? Knowing I'm stronger than you?"

"You are," Your breath shudders as you let it out, and he pushes up on his arms, one still covered in your slick release. He seems suddenly intent on showcasing that strength difference, muscles bulging as he crawls across the mattress to slot himself on top of your fucked-out form.

"I am." He agrees, mouth pressing hungrily to yours as the same arm you'd just got off on curls around your back and cements you to him, his hips already rutting against your own, "Wanna find out how much stronger I am?"

"Yes. Logan, yes, I-" He seizes your mouth in another kiss, cutting off your desperate pleas.

"Fucking try to move." He grunts, almost a growl with how guttural and gruff it sounds against the hollow of your parted lips as his other hand holds your hip firmly, almost crushingly in place, "I'll pin you down 'n hold you still, greedy girl."

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut

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wandasmaximofffs · 1 year ago

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thanks for responding! i love your wanda edits. ok this is silly but i wanted to request a wanda gifset with a red color scheme and this meme quote: 'my only moods are dumb bitch, sad bitch, and bad bitch (but add mad bitch and witch bitch cause it's wanda!)'

Hi anon!! Of course <3

Thank you so much for requesting this! I LOVED this idea, and it was so fun to make it! I hope you like it :)

Posted here!

#anon #auden speaks #anyone feel free to send in more requests!! <3

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https-papaya · 4 months ago

Text

such a gentleman — max v.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

( masterlist | guidelines | drop a request )

PAIRINGS: max verstappen x fem!reader

SUMMARY: max' best friend breaks up with her boyfriend in spectacular fashion. maybe this is the push he needs to finally admit he's in love with her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i'm genuinely blown away by the kindness and support i've received from everybody so far. i was really nervous to start posting here, but you've all been incredible! i hope that you guys enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it — WARNING that this smau involves references to infidelity (not max or the reader). have fun and feel free to send me requests!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and others

yourusername what better way to take my mind off things. monaco, you were a dream. next stop...?

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maxverstappen1 Thank you for being there. 💛

liked by yourusername

user2 hope you're feeling better!

user3 You should totally go on holiday somewhere and just forget about him tbh

yourusername that's the plan 😉

user1 ugh i hope max dropkicks him into next year

liked by maxverstappen1

danielricciardo my offer still stands...

yourusername you're just built different 😔 aus is too hot for me!!

landonorris thanks for convincing max not to order in the sushi platter

yourusername anything for my favourite papaya 🧡

oscarpiastri hey.

yourusername sorry osc, he's got the longevity :( give it a few months?

user4 oSC????

yourusername added to her story

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, landonorris and others

yourusername much needed.

view all comments

user2 the second pic???

user4 omg i cant believe max and her went together sdjhfhdj

danielricciardo and here i thought aus was too hot for you??

yourusername 🫢

user1 oh theyre in love ur honour

user7 showing the ex what he's missing fr

liked by yourusername

landonorris without me??

yourusername next time xx

user3 the fact this means max took the first pic has me spiralling

user5 no way her ex isnt seething over this LMAO

user6 his fault for cheating imo 🤷

liked by maxverstappen1

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and others

yourusername another month, another race. glad to be back 💛

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user2 no max in the likes?

user3 its over i fear

landonorris supporting the hometown boys, i hope?

yourusername count on it!

user1 and if i speak-

user4 don't.

danielricciardo was the coffee as good as he says?

yourusername even better i promise

user5 HE???

user6 surely-

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 Didn't get the win this weekend, but I won something better.

tagged: yourusername

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user1 oh my god.

yourusername thank you for loving me ❤️

maxverstappen1 Always ❤️

user4 its so over for her ex BYE-

user3 more affection than her ex ever showed her i know that's right

user2 They're sickeningly cute I can't rn

user5 parents???

danielricciardo fucking finally

landonorris it was almost painful fr

yourusername oh shut up

oscarpiastri no no he has a point

yourusername do you want me to pay for lunch tmr or not??

oscarpiastri i'm willing to take the risk

liked by landonorris and danielricciardo

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #max verstappen smau #max verstappen imagine #my work!

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flw3rrr · 4 months ago

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Could you please do one where the reader is Javis sister and she barley survived the tornado five years early. She’s married to Tyler now and something goes wrong during a chase and the reader ends up getting severely hurt and Tyler and Javi risk everything to save her. She’s unresponsive but ends up being okay

Promise me

Tyler owens x fem!reader

Warnings: slight Swearing, injured reader, Angst, Fluff, No mentions of Y/n, flashbacks to trauma

word count: 2k

A/N: Tysm for this request! I hope this goes to your Liking and please feel free to request more💖

Have a request? feel free to send me it in my inbox!

The only thing you could hear was your bother. Javi was screaming your name in the distance as you laid on the grass, your vision almost a blur as you stared at the gray sky above you. Everything felt slow and calm, as if everything was alright. But nothing was alright, barely surviving an EF5 with harsh winds throwing you around at a failed attempt to capture data of the tornado.

Not even noticing or feeling the intense pain within your lower body, just staring at the sky as if it were comforting you. In a blur, Javi stood above you, looking almost horrified as he looked over your body. immediately taking notice, a wood peace of a fence went through your right leg. "Stay awake, alright?" Shaking you slightly to keep your brain still aware. The rest of his words were muffled, not minding as you felt something pulling you above.

The last thing you heard from Javi was him yelling at you in a panic to try to stay awake more and wait for the paramedics to come rescue you before your vision went black in the most peaceful way you ever felt.

Five years later

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror at the gas station, letting the cold water run over your hands as you cleaned them thoroughly, getting rid of any germs you had on your hands for just being in the bathroom. Your wedding ring getting more shiny as the water ran through it. Bringing a smile to your face just five years ago, you were on the edge of death and now a happily married woman to none other than Tyler Owens. The tornado wrangler.

A knock broke your train of thought as Lily spoke from behind the door. "Are you almost done? Some of us have to use the bathroom too, yknow?!" Quickly drying your hands before opening the door to meet Lily. "Yeah, I'm done now. Sorry, I was just in my own world for a quick second." letting out a little laugh.

Patting your shoulder as Lily closes the door shut quickly with the sound of the lock turning. Turning away and approaching Dexter, who stood in the aisle looking at the batteries. "Need extras?" You asked, crossing your arms.

Along with Dexter and Dani, you helped them a bit with navigation, but mostly you hung out in the truck with Tyler, Boone, and Javi. Having to take it easy since the injury that took place on your leg left you weak and needed an easier job.

Having such love for this job made you never want to quit at all. As soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you wanted to go back out, but with ears full from Javi and other friends, you waited. Three years later, you still were getting the strength you had on your leg. It was hard as the years went by as Javi went on to continue to storm chase, then some time in the military. But it was all worth it as you met Tyler, who brought more happiness to your life and as well some new friends.

"Not really, but I'm getting some of these just in case you'll never know when something happens." Dexter's voice pulls you out of your thoughts once more. "Ah well, you're right on that one; you can never be sure." Giving a warm smile before hearing a voice behind speaking up. "Be sure of what?" Tyler's voice was heard as his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him lovingly.

Just at the sound of his voice, it already has you a blushing mess, it doesn't matter if both of you are married; you'd never get over it. He always treated you fairly and kindly and with respect, and you gave the same in return.

Looking up at him with a big smile and back to Dexter. "He was just telling me he's getting extra batteries just in case, y'know?" Tyler let out a laugh with a shake of his head. "always thinking ahead, which I greatly appreciate. In fact, today is supposed to be easy. With the stats we are seeing, it should be at least something tiny." Now walking out of the building with Tyler and approaching Javi, Dani, and Boone, who was checking the camera storage.

"How you feelin'?" Javi asked as you approached him by the truck. Javi has always worried for you since the injury and always double checks if you're sure you'd like to continue on. It always made you smile though; Javi was the best brother you could ask for, and you'd never wished to replace him ever.

"I am feeling good, Javi; no need to worry about me. I don't need two people to keep checking up on me every second." Tyler also always asked you if you wanted to join and go through, and it made you always feel like the safest person on earth.

Just earning a small nod from him before Tyler spoke once to the whole group, announcing one minute left before heading out. Crossing your arms, you looked at the sky. The wind was not strong, but it made your stomach turn, feeling a sense of unease and worry. Taking deep breaths to desperately fight the flashbacks, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the sound of your breaths before a hand sat on your shoulder, taking you back to reality.

Looking over your eyes met Tyler once more; his face looked concerned for you and worried. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?" His voice even carried the sound of concern. Giving him a slight smile as you turn to fully meet him, placing your hands on each side of him and holding onto him. "Of course I'm fine, Tyler. Don't worry about me." Giving a reassuring squeeze before he spoke up.

"But I'm supposed to worry about you; that's my job as your husband. Don't forget that." letting out a slight chuckle and a smile to boost the mood between one another. A chuckle escaped past your lips. Your head landing on his chest, hiding your smirk from his comment. "I could never forget Tyler... I love you too much to ever forget that," a soft smile placed on your lips.

His face lowered down to meet your's to place a soft and quick kiss against your lips. Both of you taking in the moment just the two of you as the wind slowly picked up. "Not to bother your guy's little moment, but uh, it's time to get goin'." Lilly's voice spoke, breaking the moment.

Getting in the back of the truck with Javi as Tyler sat in the driver seat and Boone in the passenger. You usually preferred the back when you felt uneasy, giving a sense of comfort. Just as Tyler started to drive, talking to the viewers through the camera, you and Javi kept an eye on the wind speeds and closely monitored, giving every piece of information to everyone.

Javi looked away for a couple of minutes to talk to the camera, joining in the fun as you kept a close eye on the monitor. The winds picked up speed, the sky got darker, and then rain began to pour down harshly. Glancing up, you look at the funnel slowly forming, doing the math and analyzing the size. This wouldn't be some EF1…

"Woah, do you guys see that now that is a good one?" Tyler spoke to the viewers once more as Boone turned to show it forming. Your body froze, unable to move. Every thought and memory came back in a flash quickly.

"Javi, I need to get this data; it's the most important one I can ever get." You spoke loudly, trying to be heard over the high winds, clutching the computer in your arms tightly. "But you'll get yourself killed; it's not worth it!" Javi yelled, trying to get you back in the van to safety.

Just as you turned back, it was too late, as the large EF5 looked as if it wasn't moving. With a great chance, it was approaching your way.

Coming back to your senses once again as Javi looks at you with worry. "Are you alright? What's the matter?" Both of his hands on your shoulder, Tyler looking at you through the little mirror, as Boone just kept the camera away from you for privacy. Quickly showing your brother the wind speed and then pointing to the almost formed tornado and speaking only five words. "We need to leave now."

But it was too late; it had already formed into a massive EF5. With no little time, Tyler quickly started to drive. Your eyes locked on the tornado in fear. "I can't see shit!" Tyler yelled through the loud rain.

"Just drive go go go!" Boone yelled. Then everything went slow for the second time in your life. The sudden calm feeling you enjoyed and overwhelmed you. You take notice of everyone's expressions. Javi was petrified as his right hand gripped on your arm. Tyler's eyes shut, hands gripping the wheel, his wedding ring shining brightly. And Boone was holding onto the camera dearly.

Then it went back to normal with a sound of a crash, then darkness once more. Perhaps it was how you were meant to go? Or someone above was cradling you in their arms, offering comfort and safety; whatever it was, it felt as if it were a dream.

It only felt as if this comfort lasted a second. The sound of a constant beeping rang through your ears. A feeling of a rough blanket beneath your fingers as you slowly moved them. Then a comforting hand laid on your forehead, slowly stroking your hair. A deep breath leaves from you before your eyes slowly flutter open.

It took time for your eyes to focus as the bright lights lit the hospital room, and the first face you met is with Tyler; he had a cut on his face going over his nose. His smile grew as you made eye contact. "Hey there.." He softly spoke, his hand still slowly stroking your hair. "What.." Your voice hurt, throat was dry, and you had a lot of head pain. He shushed you quietly before placing a loving kiss on your forehead before speaking.

"The truck flipped over... and a lot of crazy things happened. but you were the most injured. Some brain damage and bleeding. but nothing too bad." His face frowned as he gave you the story of what had happened that day.

"How long..?" You slowly leaned up with the help of Tyler and a couple of tears.

"Three weeks." Those words shocked you; it only felt like you were out for a mere second. Taking a good look around the room, you looked and saw flowers and a comfy blanket at the bottom of the bed. "Javi and the others?" You turned your head with a wince.

Tyler gave a kiss to your hand before he took a seat beside the bed. "They are all alright, I promise you. They even visited you, but you won't remember since you were out," letting out a soft laugh. You gave him one in return, which sounded heavenly to him; not hearing your laugh in three weeks was a nightmare for him. not knowing if you'd ever wake up.

Tyler looked at you with such love; his hand never let go of yours. placing one kiss upon your hand once more before speaking. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes looked at you, silently begging you to hear his question, giving him a slight nod. "Promise me that anytime from now on you will always tell me when something feels wrong or you feel uneasy, please." Reading his face, your injury left him tired, eye bags under his eyes, almost as if he waited those three weeks for you to wake up. Placing your hand on his cheek softly, caressing with your thumb before speaking up. "I promise"

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens #twisters #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens imagine #request #requests open #requests are welcome

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goldfades · 1 month ago

Text

LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW

part two!!!

for this request!!

─ summary | you and father charlie share a bond that goes beyond the confines of your church duties, with your public image as a nurturing servant masking the frustration and resentment you harbor privately. when nun megan grows suspicious and begins spying, she uncovers the intimate, vulnerable side of your relationship, catching a moment where emotions boil over into something more forbidden

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 6k

─ warnings | few kisses, kinda angsty, pretty wholesome though, nun megan being nosy AF, mentions/descriptions of being longing to be a mother + have a family, forbidden love, ends on a cliff hanger (part 2 coming soon, i just couldn't fit everything in one part)

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). again this turned out very wordy and self-indulgent, my apologies

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

The faint scent of incense lingers in the air, the wisps of smoke curling upward toward the stained glass windows, where muted beams of light filter through, casting the nave in shades of gold and crimson. The church is quiet now, save for the soft rustle of robes and the shuffling feet of the last parishioners as they take their leave. You remain rooted to your spot at the front, hands clasped in front of you, your gaze lowered in practiced reverence.

You’ve spent years perfecting this image—a serene, dutiful figure in service to the church. The warmth you offer is genuine, but it's also an armor, a shield from the world beyond the altar. You can feel their eyes on you as they depart, expecting grace, expecting humility, expecting nothing more than what you’ve always given them.

But beneath the surface, you can feel the stirrings of something else. The long hours, the endless work, the weight of expectations—it grinds against you, slowly wearing away at the image you’ve created. And no one sees it. No one, except him.

Father Charlie stands beside the altar, his back turned to you as he speaks to one of the deacons, his voice low and calming, as it always is. There’s something about him—something steady, something real—that draws you to him. He’s the only one who understands the pressures you both face, the only one who sees through the veneer you maintain for the sake of the church.

As the last of the congregation filters out, a wave of relief washes over you. The doors close with a soft echo, leaving the two of you in the lingering quiet of the empty church. You allow yourself to breathe, to let go of the tightness in your chest. It’s only in moments like these, when the others have gone, that you can finally be yourself—unburdened by the expectations of the flock, free from the eyes of those who can never truly understand.

But you sense it, don’t you? That something else is watching, something creeping at the edges of this sanctuary, waiting for you to slip.

You feel a prickle of awareness, an instinct, perhaps, that you’re not as alone as you think. But you push it aside, telling yourself it’s nothing—just the remnants of the day clinging to your thoughts. After all, in the safety of the church, what could possibly be wrong?

You step forward, closer to Father Charlie, your voice dropping to a murmur. “They never stop looking, do they?”

He turns toward you, and there’s a softness in his expression—something that tells you he’s been thinking the same thing. “No,” he says quietly, “they never do.”

You exchange a glance with Father Charlie, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He sees the cracks in your facade, the weight you carry, but you don’t speak of it yet. Instead, you let the stillness of the church settle over you like a heavy cloak.

From the corner of your eye, you notice a figure lingering near the back of the nave, her sharp eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. Nun Megan.

She’s always watching, isn’t she? Always hovering on the fringes, her gaze lingering just a second too long whenever you’re near Father Charlie. At first, you thought it was nothing—just her usual vigilance. But lately, you’ve felt her eyes more than ever, probing, curious. She’s never said anything outright, but the suspicion is there, woven into every glance, every pause when the two of you are together.

Today is no different.

She lingers by the back pew, her hands folded in front of her, eyes flicking between you and Father Charlie, as though waiting for something, anything, to confirm what she already suspects. You can feel the weight of her judgment, subtle but ever-present, like a shadow you can’t shake.

Father Charlie hasn’t noticed her yet, his focus still on you as he speaks softly, a reassuring tone to his words. “You know we can’t let this consume us. What we do here… it’s bigger than us.”

His words are meant to calm you, to pull you back from the edge of frustration, but your thoughts are already racing. You glance toward Nun Megan again, just in time to see her quickly avert her gaze, pretending to adjust a candle on the altar. She’s watching—of course, she’s watching.

You wonder if she’s been watching longer than you realize.

“I know,” you say, your voice low. But the bitterness creeps in, twisting your words. “But sometimes I think we’re expected to be more than human. How long are we supposed to pretend we don’t feel anything?”

Charlie’s eyes soften, but before he can respond, you see him glance over your shoulder—finally catching sight of Nun Megan. The tension in the room shifts, subtle but palpable. He straightens, his face smoothing into the calm, composed expression he wears so well. “Sister Megan,” he calls out, his voice gentle but pointed.

She steps forward, her smile small and tight, her eyes darting between you both. “Father Charlie,” she says softly, inclining her head in a show of respect. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just… making sure everything was in order.”

Her words hang in the air, innocuous enough on the surface, but there’s something else there, hidden beneath her polite tone. You can see it in her eyes—the doubt, the questions she doesn’t dare ask.

Not yet, anyway.

Father Charlie offers her a kind smile, though you can tell he senses it too. “Everything’s fine, Sister,” he says. “We were just finishing up.”

But even as she nods and steps back, you know this won’t be the last time. She’ll keep watching, waiting for the moment when your guard slips. And when it does, she’ll be ready.

As Nun Megan retreats to the back of the church, your pulse quickens. You’ve held your composure for now, but the unease gnaws at you. The walls feel tighter, the air more stifling. She’s already too close, and it’s only a matter of time before she sees more than you want her to.

Father Charlie steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “We have to be careful.”

You nod, but inside, you know it’s already too late. Megan’s already seen enough to suspect—and suspicion, in a place like this, is dangerous.

───

You lay on Charlie's bare chest, still breathless from the earlier exertion. The warmth of his skin radiates beneath your cheek, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the scars and soft ridges of his chest. The room is quiet, save for the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the muted sound of your heartbeats thrumming together in the aftermath of what you’ve just shared. The intimacy of the moment feels stolen—like something you shouldn't have, but neither of you can resist.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself sink into the softness of him, the way he smells of incense and something darker, something distinctly him. This is the one place where the world falls away, where the weight of your roles within the church, the expectations, the endless eyes watching your every move—they don't matter here. In these stolen moments, you’re not the pious Mother superior they expect you to be, and Charlie is not the solemn priest. Here, in the seclusion of your shared quarters, you are simply you and him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers brushing through your hair as if to anchor you to him, to the present. You shift slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, the usual veil of composure lowered, revealing the tenderness he reserves only for you. There’s a question in his gaze, though, something unspoken yet palpable, like a prayer hanging in the air between you both.

“Do you think she suspects?” you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, as though even here, in this hidden sanctuary, you’re afraid to speak too loudly.

Charlie’s hand stills for a moment in your hair, and he hesitates before answering. “She watches,” he says softly, his tone measured but tinged with a hint of unease. “Megan always watches.”

You bite your lip, trying to push away the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Nun Megan’s eyes have been everywhere lately, her presence lingering in corners, her footsteps echoing in halls where no one should be. You can feel her judgment even when she’s not there, like a shadow creeping just behind you.

“What if she knows?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. “What if she’s already seen too much?”

Charlie’s hand cups your cheek, drawing your gaze back to his. “We’ve been careful,” he reassures you, his voice steady and soothing. “But even if she suspects, we won’t let her tear us apart. Not here. Not now.”

His words should comfort you, but they don’t. There’s too much at stake—too many risks. And yet, despite everything, you can’t pull away. The bond between you both is too deep, too powerful to sever. You close your eyes again, letting the quiet blanket you both, willing the worries to dissolve into the stillness.

But somewhere beyond the walls of this sanctuary, you know Nun Megan is watching. Waiting. And it’s only a matter of time before the veil of secrecy slips, and the forbidden truth of what you share is laid bare.

The silence between you and Father Charlie feels heavier now, like the air has thickened with all the unspoken words and the knowledge that your time together might soon be fractured by someone else’s gaze. You shift your body, propping yourself up slightly on his chest so you can look at him fully.

His brow is furrowed, but he wears the same soft expression he always does when he's with you, the kind that calms your nerves even when the weight of the world presses in on you. You reach out and gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"You can’t be the one to carry all the worry," he murmurs, his voice deep and soothing, laced with that unwavering faith that you’ve come to rely on. He places his hand over yours, his thumb tracing circles against your knuckles. “I can see it in your eyes—you’ve been holding too much inside.”

You want to deny it, to say that you’re strong enough, that you can bear whatever comes next, but you know he’s right. There’s too much weighing you down—too many people to answer to, too many demands, and far too many secrets.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. “Not just of Megan… but of what happens if we get caught. What they’ll do to us. What they’ll do to you.” You lower your gaze, the vulnerability of the confession hanging between you like a leaden weight.

Charlie exhales softly, his hand moving to your jaw, tilting your chin up so that your eyes meet his again. There’s something fierce in his gaze now, an intensity that reassures you despite the uncertainty swirling around you both.

“Whatever happens,” he says, his voice firm, “we’ll face it together. They can’t take that away from us.”

“What if it’s not enough?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “What if this… this thing we share, this love—what if it’s not enough to save us?”

The church is supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of peace and solace, but lately, it’s felt more like a prison. You can sense the walls closing in, the tension rising between the expectation of holiness and the very human desires you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Charlie shakes his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It is enough,” he insists. “Love is the one thing that can’t be tainted by fear or doubt. What we have—it’s sacred in its own way. Even if the church sees it differently.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. His words wrap around you like a protective shroud, and in this space—this room, away from the watchful eyes of the others—it’s easy to imagine that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. That what you have can survive the scrutiny, the judgment, and the dangers that loom just outside these walls.

But as much as you want to cling to that hope, the doubt is still there, lurking at the edges of your thoughts.

You don’t say anything else, instead letting your head fall back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. The sound is calming, a tether to the present, to this moment you share together.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that time is running out. That soon, Nun Megan will step beyond suspicion and into certainty, and when she does, the fragile world you’ve built with Charlie will come crashing down.

Outside, the wind howls against the old stone walls of the church, a reminder of the world waiting for you beyond this small sanctuary. But for now, for this brief and precious moment, it’s just you and him—together, against whatever comes next.

───

The sun hangs high in the clear afternoon sky, casting a golden light over the open field where the annual church picnic is in full swing. Children run through the grass, their laughter ringing out like tiny bells carried on the breeze, while the adults gather around tables laden with food, exchanging pleasantries and stories. You stand near the edge of the field, watching as a group of children pulls you into their game of tag, their faces lit up with joy and mischief.

You can’t help but laugh, your heart light as you chase after them, the stress and fear that have weighed on you for so long melting away, if only for a moment. The children's energy is infectious, their innocence a brief but welcome reprieve from the gravity of the world you usually inhabit. They dart around you, giggling and shrieking with excitement as they narrowly avoid your grasp, their small hands brushing against yours in passing.

You catch a young girl in your arms, swinging her around in a playful twirl before setting her down. Her laughter is so pure, so unburdened by the weight of the world, and it stirs something inside you—a long-forgotten lightness that you’ve almost forgotten was there.

From across the field, Father Charlie watches you, his eyes softening as they follow your movements. You are radiant in this moment, free from the burden of secrets and suspicion, your face bright with genuine joy as you interact with the children. His heart swells at the sight, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.

He has always admired your strength—the way you carry so much, how you stand tall even when the weight of your responsibilities threatens to break you. But here, now, seeing you like this, surrounded by children, laughing freely, Charlie feels something different. Something deeper.

It's more than just admiration. It’s a longing, a quiet ache for something more than the life he’s chosen. Watching you with the children sparks a warmth inside him he hadn’t known he could still feel, a yearning for a different kind of closeness. One that he knows is forbidden, yet he can’t help but dream about.

You twirl around with another child, your smile wide as they tumble into your arms. For a brief second, you catch Charlie’s gaze from across the field, and your eyes meet. There’s something in his look that makes your breath catch—a tenderness, a softness that you’ve rarely seen outside the privacy of your hidden moments together. His lips curl into a small, almost shy smile, as though he’s caught himself staring but can’t quite tear his gaze away.

For a moment, it feels as if the rest of the world fades away. The laughter of the children, the hum of conversations, even the sounds of nature—all of it dulls into the background as you stand there, frozen in that quiet exchange with Charlie.

It’s a connection you feel deep in your chest, one that’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but is now rising to the forefront, too powerful to ignore.

The children pull you back into the game, and the moment is broken, but the warmth of Charlie’s gaze lingers with you. As you chase after the little ones again, you feel a blush creep up your neck, knowing that even here, in the open, with the church congregation all around, there’s something between you that no one else can touch.

Charlie tears his eyes away, his heart still beating a little faster than before. He forces himself to join in the casual conversations around him, but his thoughts remain with you, and that moment. He’s always been good at keeping his emotions at bay, keeping his desires hidden beneath the layers of duty and faith. But now, watching you like this, he feels those walls crumbling, just a little.

And for the first time in a long while, he allows himself to wonder: What would it be like to have this warmth—to hold onto it, to let it fill the hollow spaces inside him? What would it be like if the life he’d chosen wasn’t a barrier but something that could coexist with the connection he feels with you?

He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. But they cling to him, persistent, like the warmth in his chest that refuses to fade.

As the afternoon wears on, and the children slowly tire out, you make your way back toward the picnic tables where the rest of the congregation was. Your cheeks flushed with exertion, your hair slightly wind-tossed, and you catch Charlie watching you again, and this time, there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter—a promise, perhaps, or a confession yet to be spoken. Charlie begins making his way over to you, a warm smile on his lips.

One of the little girls run up to you once again, practically tumbling into your arms. You giggle, grabbing her waist and pulling her into your lap.

"Mother Y/N, have you ever wanted children?" she asks.

Her question catches you off guard. The little girl's innocent eyes peer up at you, wide and curious, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. You feel Charlie’s presence nearby, his footsteps slowing as he hears the question, and your heart skips a beat.

You smooth the girl's hair back gently, buying yourself a second to gather your thoughts. Children… it’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to think about much, not with the path you've chosen. Being a mother in the literal sense feels like an impossible dream—something meant for another life, another version of you.

Still, the warmth of the child in your lap, her trust and affection, tugs at something deep inside you.

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. “I suppose I have,” you admit, your voice gentle. “There was a time when I thought I might have a family of my own one day. But now... I think my place is here, taking care of all of you.”

The little girl tilts her head, a frown crossing her face as she processes your words. “But wouldn’t you like to be a real mama?” she asks, her small hands gripping your arm as if to anchor you to the moment, to the question.

Before you can answer, you feel a presence behind you—Charlie has arrived. He crouches down beside you, his hand brushing your shoulder in a gesture so natural, so easy, that it almost makes your heart ache.

“The way you care for everyone here,” he says softly, his voice warm and filled with admiration, “I think you’re already a mother to so many.”

You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his, and there’s something in his gaze—something gentle and understanding, but also deeper, more personal. His words resonate in a way that goes beyond the roles you’ve both taken on within the church. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine it—what it would be like if things were different, if you and Charlie could have a life beyond the confines of the walls you’ve built around yourselves.

The girl beams, nodding in agreement. “See? You’re like a mama to us already,” she declares, then wraps her small arms around your neck in a tight hug before hopping off your lap and running back toward the other children, her energy renewed.

You watch her go, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. When you turn back to Charlie, he’s still crouched beside you, his expression softened by something you can’t quite put into words.

“You handled that well,” he says quietly, his smile reaching his eyes.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I was prepared for that kind of question, if I'm being honest.”

He chuckles too, and for a brief moment, the world feels lighter, the weight of everything you’ve been holding inside lifted by the simple connection between you two.

But as the children’s laughter echoes around you and the other parishioners continue with their picnic, you feel the weight of reality creeping back in. This quiet moment with Charlie—this glimpse of what could be—feels like a fleeting dream. You know the path you’ve both chosen is far more complicated than that. Yet, as you stand together in the warm afternoon sun, you allow yourself to linger in this feeling for just a little while longer.

Charlie’s hand brushes against yours, lingering for just a moment, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever challenges come your way, you won’t be facing them alone.

───

The last light of day has faded, leaving the courtyard steeped in a deep, quiet twilight. You stand by the fountain, your fingers tracing the cold, rough surface of the stone. You try to breathe deeply, but frustration gnaws at your insides. On the outside, you wear the same mask you always do—calm, nurturing, and devout. But inside, there’s an ever-present storm, growing louder by the day.

Your thoughts drift back to Father Charlie, to the comfort he offered earlier. His words felt like a balm on your wounds, but they didn’t erase the resentment. The weight of expectations presses on your shoulders—constant demands, endless servitude, all while suppressing the truth of who you are.

Your gaze flickers toward the chapel, half-hoping to see him stepping into the courtyard. But the figure that emerges from the shadows isn’t him.

Nun Megan.

Her steps are silent but deliberate, and her eyes are as sharp as ever. You’ve noticed her watching lately—her gaze lingering on you and Father Charlie, suspicion glinting in her eyes.

“Out late again, I see,” she says, her voice carrying a quiet accusation. She stops a few feet away, her gaze fixed on you, unblinking. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time in Father Charlie’s company.”

You stiffen at her words, but force yourself to remain composed. You know how to wear the mask—how to keep the perfect image intact. “I seek guidance, Sister Megan,” you reply, your voice measured. “Father Charlie offers wisdom.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her expression hard. “Guidance, is it?” There’s no mistaking the suspicion in her voice now. “We all seek guidance, but you’ve been… close.”

The accusation hangs in the air between you, cold and heavy. You feel a flash of anger rise within you, but you suppress it, keeping your voice even. “We are all called to be close to God. To each other, Sister.”

Megan steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Perhaps. But eyes are everywhere. You should be careful. It’s my duty to protect the sanctity of this place.” Her words are a thinly veiled threat, warning you that she’s watching.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Sister Megan.”

You turn at the sound of Father Charlie’s voice, relief washing over you as he steps into the courtyard. His presence brings with it a sense of calm, as if the storm threatening to engulf you has momentarily eased. His gaze flicks between you and Megan, though when his eyes land on you, they soften.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his tone neutral, but his eyes hold a silent reassurance.

Megan stands a little straighter under his scrutiny. She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with challenging him, but her suspicion remains. “No, Father,” she says finally. “I was simply offering our sister here a reminder of her vows. It’s important we maintain propriety.”

Father Charlie’s expression doesn’t change. “Of course, Sister. We all must uphold our vows. You may return to your duties.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you think Megan might push further. But then she inclines her head and turns away, her steps sharp and purposeful as she leaves the courtyard. The weight of her presence lingers, like a shadow refusing to lift.

As soon as she’s gone, you exhale, tension slipping from your shoulders. Father Charlie steps closer to you, his voice low and steady. “She grows more suspicious.”

You nod, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The mask you’ve worn for so long feels suffocating now, the weight of expectations unbearable.

Father Charlie’s expression softens, and when he reaches out, his fingers lightly brush your arm. “You’re not alone,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

His touch sends a spark through you, and for a moment, the weight of your burdens eases. But as you stand there, alone in the darkness with him, you know that the road ahead will only grow more difficult. Still, with him beside you, it feels less daunting.

You stay silent for a long moment, standing there with Father Charlie. His presence should be enough to calm you, but the weight of your thoughts has become unbearable, pressing down harder than ever before.

“I never wanted this life,” you finally whisper, eyes fixed on the fountain’s surface, the soft ripple of water reflecting the sky. “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of something else.”

Charlie says nothing, letting you speak, his silence a kind of permission.

You take a breath, the memories flooding back. “I used to imagine myself far away from here—away from society, the rules, the eyes always watching. I dreamed of having a family, children running through an open field, laughter filling the air. I wanted to be a mother,” your voice wavers slightly, “to nurture my own, not just serve others.”

The words feel strange as they leave your mouth, like a confession you’ve never dared to speak aloud. Even though you’ve lived in service, dedicating yourself to this life, there’s always been a gnawing ache inside you for something more—something that belonged solely to you.

“I imagined a small cottage,” you continue, your voice growing softer, “with a garden, flowers blooming. Somewhere far from this place, where no one could judge me, where I could be free. I wanted to love, to build a life that was mine.”

Father Charlie shifts closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours, offering silent support.

“But instead… I ended up here.” The words hang in the air, heavy with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, choosing this path. I thought it would bring me peace. But it didn’t. It feels like every day, I’m giving up more of myself—burying my real desires so deep I hardly recognize them anymore.”

Your throat tightens as a tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. The picnic earlier flickers in your mind, how for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel happiness. Real happiness. Sitting under the sun with him, laughing, letting your guard down—it had stirred something in you, something real and raw, a glimpse of the life you had always wanted.

“That picnic…” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in so long, I felt alive. I didn’t feel like the person everyone expects me to be. I felt like… me.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he doesn’t pull away when you step closer, his presence like a steadying force. “It’s not wrong to want more,” he says gently. “You deserve to feel whole.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you confess, your voice trembling. “I’ve given up so much already. What’s left of me?”

He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, and in them, you see the same conflict, the same struggle that mirrors your own. “There’s still time,” he says, his words a quiet promise. “There’s still time to find yourself.”

Tears spill freely now, and before you can stop yourself, you collapse into his arms, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the walls around your heart crumble, and you let yourself feel the ache of all you’ve lost—the life you could have had, the dreams that seem so distant now.

“I wanted a family,” you whisper into his shoulder, your voice breaking. “I wanted to be a mother, to love, to be loved. But instead…”

He tightens his arms around you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are loved. In ways you may not see yet.”

Father Charlie holds you close, his arms steady around you as your tears soak into his robe. The dam has broken, and there’s no holding back the flood of emotions anymore. You cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s crumbling beneath your feet, each sob rising from a place so deep it scares you.

“I thought… I thought if I buried those dreams long enough, they’d go away,” you murmur into his shoulder. “But they haven’t. They’ve only grown louder. I see families, mothers with their children, and it’s like a knife in my heart. I want that—so much it hurts.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his face for understanding. His brow furrows, concern etched into every line. “I feel trapped here,” you continue, voice cracking. “I’ve spent my life giving and giving, but no matter how much I give, I can’t find peace. All I ever wanted was a simple life, with love. But instead, I’m… this.”

Father Charlie’s hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “You’re not alone in this,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “I see your struggle, and I feel it too. Every day I ask myself if I made the right choice. If this is what my life was meant to be.”

The vulnerability in his words makes your breath hitch. You’ve never heard him speak like this before, never knew he had the same doubts gnawing at him. It’s both terrifying and comforting at once—knowing that even someone like him, someone who always seems so sure, is just as lost as you are.

“I don’t know how to keep pretending,” you admit, your voice a fragile whisper. “That picnic, earlier today… it felt like a glimpse of the life I could’ve had. And for just a moment, I was happy. Truly happy. But then it all came crashing back—the guilt, the expectations. The life I chose. It feels like a prison.”

Father Charlie’s thumb pauses on your cheek, and he lets out a slow breath. “I understand,” he says quietly. “More than you know.”

The air between you feels heavy, thick with unspoken truths and shared pain. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, a longing that mirrors your own, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s wrestling with the same thoughts—if his dreams have also been sacrificed for a life he’s no longer certain of.

“I never thought…,” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. “I never thought I’d feel this way, here of all places.”

His hand slips from your cheek to your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Feelings are complicated,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sometimes, we think we’ve made peace with our choices, but deep down, our hearts tell a different story.”

A silence stretches between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. There’s something raw and honest about this moment, like the two of you are finally shedding the masks you’ve been wearing for so long.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice barely audible. “I feel so lost.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he leans in just slightly, his face close. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he murmurs. “But you don’t have to face this alone.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a blanket, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to carry this burden on your own. Maybe there’s room for something more—something real.

Your heart races in your chest, and you take a shaky breath, eyes locked with his. The closeness between you feels electric, every nerve in your body attuned to his presence, to the quiet intensity in his gaze. It’s dangerous—this connection. You both know it.

But in this moment, it’s all you have.

───

The church bells have just finished ringing, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. You stand outside with Father Charlie, your heart still heavy from the morning’s sermon. The congregation begins to disperse, everyone offering quiet blessings to one another as they leave. You and Father Charlie remain, lingering by the old stone archway. It’s quieter now, the sacred stillness of the church grounds wrapped around you both like a secret.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and familiar, and you can feel the pull between you—stronger now than ever. The unspoken connection that had simmered all week after your vulnerable conversation feels unbearable in its intensity.

“I shouldn’t…” you start, but your words falter as he steps closer, the warmth of his presence radiating into the space between you.

“I know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way his eyes flicker from yours to your lips betrays his struggle, mirroring your own.

Before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, your lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepens, fueled by the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. The world seems to disappear—just the two of you in a moment stolen from time itself, as your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

The kiss is both a comfort and a confession, a silent surrender to everything you’ve been too afraid to say. You clutch the fabric of his robe, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidness of him, to anchor yourself in this forbidden moment.

But then, a gasp—a sharp intake of breath that slices through the intimacy like a blade. You break apart, breathless, and turn to see Nun Megan standing at the edge of the churchyard. Her face is a portrait of shock and disbelief, eyes wide, hand clasped over her mouth as though she cannot believe what she’s just witnessed.

Your stomach drops, cold dread flooding your veins.

“Goodness…” she whispers, her voice laced with horror, “what have you done?”

Father Charlie immediately steps back, but the damage is done. The air is charged with accusation, and you can see the betrayal written across her face. The weight of your actions crashes down around you, guilt mixing with panic.

“Megan, it’s not—” Father Charlie begins, but there’s no stopping her now. She turns and rushes back toward the church, her steps frantic as if she’s running to report what she’s seen, to stop the corruption before it spreads further.

You and Father Charlie are left standing in the aftermath, the kiss lingering on your lips, now tainted with the knowledge that everything is about to change.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nicholas chavez #charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez fluff #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut

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riki-dazed · 7 months ago

Text

Riki can't help but shower you in hickies

suggestive · wc: 649 · requested

"Rikiiii—" you squirm beneath your boyfriend's large frame, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He hums in response to your whines, his actions against the side of your neck not slowing down in the slightest of ways; your noises only turning him on that much more.

What started as an innocent-enough make out session on your bed, has now taken a sudden turn for the.. better. After some playful bickering between the both of you, Riki managed to pin your figure against the mattress. His hands hold your wrists down by either sides of your head, his body practically laying on top of yours, not allowing you to escape him.

"So pretty for me," his breathy voice purrs beside your ear, soon before grazing his teeth lightly along it. "Wanna taste you..."

The tickling sensation sends you into a fit of quiet giggles beneath Riki, he returns you a sultry smile, his lips now trailing along the skin on your jaw. His actions continue to follow down your neck, causing the playful expression on your face to twist into one that emits pure bliss, and pleasure.

The fact that you can feel him making small movements against your thigh, considering how close your bodies are pressed against one another's, doesn't help your overly flustered situation at all.

Riki's soft lips trace the contours of your neck, as he leaves traces of his warm saliva behind. Feeling his wet kisses against your skin causes you to arch your back off the mattress, your chest meeting his in the process.

He settles his lips on a spot right beneath the back of your jaw, knowing exactly where you like having him. The needy boy wastes no time in beginning to make out with the delicate skin, muffled moans escape his mouth as he starts to suck on it shortly afterwards. He lets go of one of your wrists, his hand now cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as he continues sucking on the opposite side.

"Fuck, baby—" you barely manage to utter beneath your breath as your freed hand gravitates towards his hair, your fingers grasping the strands at the back of his head. "Mm, r-right there."

With a final kiss against your skin, and tauntingly slow lick along it, Riki slightly lifts his head back up. His gaze stays focused on the obvious mark his mouth has left behind on you, he can't help but admire it for a short moment.

Feeling a sudden longing for Riki's lips to be back on your skin, you guide his head back down to where you need it. Your fingers, yet again, tug at the strands of his hair at the feeling of having him graze his teeth along your neck. You tilt your head back, surrendering yourself to him completely.

"Does that feel good?" his low tone speaks against your skin. "Hm?"

Feeling lightheaded, your bottom lip finds itself between your teeth again at his question, "Mhm." The smile on his face only grows cockier at your breathy reply.

Riki helps you remove your top before moving his actions to your chest. With the both of your hands now being free of his grasp, you take the opportunity to tug his muscle tee off too, discarding the piece of fabric somewhere across the bed.

He lifts himself off your body, straddling your thigh, as one of his knees settle in-between the both of your thighs. Riki looks down at your figure, admiring you through his hooded eyes. He had become an artist, you, his masterpiece. A canvas for him to leave his marks of desire all over.

As he continues to eye your chest, the newly scattered marks he's left across it causes something within his sweatpants to twitch.

...

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dearsnow · 5 months ago

Text

YOUR BAR BOYFRIEND

- after being harassed by a drunken stranger, your bar boyfriend swoops in to save the day (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is intended to be on the quieter/more introverted side, but if you’re not like that you can ignore that one line ⚠️ verbal sexual harassment, drinking).

PART 2

word count: 1,206

a/n - tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACKKKK!!!! i’m so glad to be back to writing, y’all have no idea how much i missed it. i’ll probably be a bit rusty until i find my rhythm, so please ignore the not-top-quality writing until then. also, feel free to send in requests or chat!!

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You utter apologetically, side-stepping the arm of the man in front of you. He reeks of beer and a hard day’s work, his scruffy face all too unkept in the lighting of the bar. You can’t even fathom exactly why you’re in the bar in the first place- you’ve never been one to explore, but this man is making you feel like you never want to leave your house again.

Your eyes scan the room, but no one seems to notice your predicament. The bar is full of Navy men, surely one of them would be fine with pretending to help you. “C’mon, sugar, one drink. Thas’ all ya have to do. If it goes well, hey, I wouldn’t mind one fuck either.” He grins, winking. The hope that you held in your heart is quickly dissipating. “He don’t have to know.” You feel your stomach drop as he moves to grab your hand, but an firm grip shoves his fingers away instead.

“Honey, is this guy bothering you?” A voice behind you speaks. You quickly turn around.

“I… yeah.” You stutter. You’re staring right into the face of a guy in a uniform, his jaw set as he glares at the drunk through his glasses.

He moves in front of you, creating a physical barrier between you and the significantly shorter man. Relief floods you. “Then I think he’d better leave before someone kicks him out, huh?”

The intoxicated man rolls his eyes, but frantically shuffles out the door of the bar. His gait was evidently terrified.

The tension is pulled from your shoulders, and you unintentionally sigh. The guy with glasses turns around to face you. His expression is softer now that the threat is gone, and his concern is almost cute.

“Are you alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry for the pet name thing, but I overheard you and I couldn’t really just stand there and watch. I’m Bob, by the way, Bob Floyd.” He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and as you do, his hesitates through his rambling.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Bob, I’m fine. And I don’t mind.” His grip is firm but not crushing, just like his presence. You introduce yourself, and he nods like he’s desperate to commit the sound of your name to memory. The respectful tone is honestly a breath of fresh air with the raucous energy of the Hard Deck, causing your cheeks to be a few degrees warmer when you pull your hand away. Our of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his somewhat clammy hands on the sides of his pants.

“Also, I’m sorry for taking the place of your actual boyfriend. I assumed you just didn’t know where he was, so I stepped in.” His eyes search for your own, holding steady eye contact. They’re the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, but I thought a lie was the better choice. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.” Your voice has a certain breathy quality to it. You’ve completely transitioned from terror to being deeply attracted to the person who spared you an even more intense confrontation. Bob’s eyes widen just slightly.

He takes his hands away from his sides and motions to one of the tables in the corner, his face just the slightest bit pinker. “Would you want to sit down?”

You nod, and he leads the way. As he’s pulling out your chair for you, you can’t help but wonder how your night turned out this way. You went from having the worst night of your life to dizzily encountering the person you could only describe as being your bar boyfriend.

You just recently moved to this part of San Diego for a newfound job opportunity, completely unaware of your proximity to the Hard Deck and a Naval base. You didn’t know anyone or anything, and as someone who isn’t necessarily very outgoing, it was hard for you to adjust. Not even your coworkers were easy to make friends with, so you slowly became more and more isolated.

The bar was kind of your last resort. You didn’t expect to find anything great, and you still don’t know what compelled you to go, but some hidden part of you figured that at least you could get some form of entertainment. Finding Bob, though, you never expected.

Conversation feels easy with him. He seems like a quiet guy, but he knows exactly what to say to keep you talking, and he offers insights of his own that just further the subject you’re talking about. Words fly from your mouths, and you can say that you’ve never enjoyed talking more. You bounce from common topics like work and hobbies to deeper breakdowns of memories and experiences, your smile growing wider every second. You’re completely in a world that was built brick by brick for you and him.

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice the woman who rests her hand on the back of your chair until she speaks. “Bob, you of all people? Never would’ve expected you to abandon us for a pretty girl.”

Bob reddens as you turn to face her. “Sorry, Nat.”

She holds a hand out to you, which you shake. “Call me Phoenix. He’s my backseater, and apparently a lady killer tonight.”

Bob stands as Phoenix gives him a pointed look. “Sorry to steal him away from you, but he’s taken way too long of a break from our pool game. I’ll give him back to you later.”

“You say that like I’m a robot.” He grumbles, showing just a hint of disappointment at having to leave your conversation.

You wave him away. “Have fun, Bob. I’d better go anyways.”

“Wait-“ he starts as you stand up, “-could I give you my number first?”

You secretly cheer inside of your head. You nod, and he takes a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Here.” He mumbles, writing it on a spare napkin and handing it to you. His fingers brush over yours, sending electrifying sparks throughout your entire body. You could get used to this feeling, you think. His hand hovers for a split second before regretfully moving away. “It’s, uh, it’s up to you, but I’d really like it if you called or texted. I had a nice time with you.”

You tuck the napkin into your bag, eyes soft. Bob thinks he’s never seen a sight so beautiful- the sun is setting behind you, and it casts you in a golden light as your mouth quirks up. “Of course I will. I had a nice time with you too.”

Your voice is quiet, but a sound that he relishes all the same. He could’ve gotten lost in you if Phoenix wasn’t impatiently tapping her foot next to him.

She pulls him away, and though he knows he’s up for a lot of teasing, Bob can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows that he needs to see you again, and you know that no matter what, you’ll make it happen.

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