#megan duval
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I was waiting for these two to get together, according to me Megan had already suffered too much with her "boyfriend" and deserved to be happy with Charlie. I was left as đ€Ąđ€Ąđ€Ą
#charlie mayhew#megan duval#dr charlie mayhew#det megan duval#Meg deserved Charlie#Charlie died soon#Clown mood#Where's my charmeg?#I need they together#Revive Charlie#First ship I like and they killed one of them#Grotesquerie#ryan murphy#grotesquerie fx
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HAUNTED
Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didnât expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murdererâand even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavezâs character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future.
PREVIEW TWO
© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.
ONE
The tension in your hospital room is palpable, Detective Lois and Dr. Mayhew locking eyes as if each were ready to strike. Youâre bewildered, unsure of whom or what to believe. But one thing is clear: Dr. Mayhew is your husband. He appears to be the quickest path to recovering your memoryâeven though Lois seems convinced heâs the reason youâre in this condition.
âDetective Tryon, as eager as you are to drag a statement out of my wife, sheâll be of no use to your scheme of blaming me for your incompetence,â Dr. Mayhew says, running a hand through his hair with a clear hint of tension. âShe remembers nothing, and your persistence will only confuse her further.â He sighs heavily, while Lois watches him with a mocking smile, as if her patience has completely worn thin.
âYour performance is so convincing. You must have taken acting lessons at some point in your life,â she says, stepping toward him with a threatening air. âI canât allow you to harm this woman before she has the chance to tell the world who you really are.â
âEnough!â you exclaim, frustrated by their bickering. Both turn to you, their expressions shifting to something like concern. âDetective Tryon, I appreciate your efforts to keep me safe. But if this man truly is my husband, that must mean something,â you say, almost on instinct. Perhaps youâre being foolish, even hasty. But there has to be something to this. Taking a risk is all you have leftânow that you donât even belong to yourself.
"Are you really willing to risk your life to be near this man, Y/N?" Detective Tryon holds your arm, her grip nearly desperate, as though trying to pull you away from Dr. Mayhew. The force of it makes you uncomfortable, and you wince, letting out a low sound of pain.
âRelease my wife, Detective,â Dr. Mayhew snaps, his tone finally sharpened, his calm composure cracking. âI remind you that if we report your misconduct to your superiors, your entire baseless case will fall apart.â He steps between you and Lois, his hands slipping into his lab coat pockets, the stance a clear challenge.
"What would truly please you, right?" Lois challenges, staring straight into Dr. Mayhew's eyes. You watch them silently, still feeling the ache in your arm where Lois had grabbed you.
"Would you like to know what would actually please me?" Dr. Mayhew whispers, moving closer to Lois. "Iâd be pleased to have my wife with me again, without the interference of a lunatic so obsessed with her own failures that she needs to ruin my life just to sleep at night. Careful, Lois. Youâre becoming obsessed with me." You're uncertain of his intentions, but the authoritative tone in his voice and the way he carries himself is undeniably alluring.
Lois narrows her eyes, her expression darkening as Dr. Mayhew moves closer, his tone laced with mockery and barely concealed venom. âIs that so, Dr. Mayhew? Obsession, you call it?â she scoffs, a bitter smile playing on her lips. âLetâs not confuse dedication to justice with obsession. But perhaps youâre simply too accustomed to manipulating the truth to recognize it when you see it.â
You watch the exchange, torn between skepticism and an undeniable draw toward him. Despite the sharp edge in his words, the way Dr. Mayhew stands his ground, unyielding and unafraid, stirs something within you. Even as his gaze shifts to meet yours, thereâs an intensity there that unsettles yet captivates youâa magnetic pull that defies reason.
âWhy not focus on your own affairs, Detective,â he murmurs, his eyes still on you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, âand let my wife and I⊠reconnect. Unless, of course, youâve truly no other purpose in your life than meddling in mine.â
Your confidence is remarkable, Charlie," Lois remarks. "Mrs. Mayhew, if you need me for any reason, hereâs my number. Iâll also be visiting again soon to see if thereâs been any progress in your memory recovery." She hands you a card with her contact information, then smirks mockingly at Dr. Mayhew. "And donât worry, Charlie, Iâll let Megan know youâll be unavailable." With that, she finally exits your hospital room.
Charlie stares at you, irritation burning in his gaze. "Do you believe her?" Dr. Mayhew demands, advancing toward you with sudden intensity. You feel as if the air is being drawn from your lungs with his nearness, his gaze piercing. "Honestly, I donât know whom to believe," you murmur, leaning back against the hospital bed behind you, your eyes locked onto his.
"Fine!" he exclaims, voice laced with indignation. He turns to leave, but then hesitates, his hand lingering on the door frame as if torn between staying and leaving. After a tense pause, he steps back inside, his tone shifting from anger to something raw and vulnerable.
"Y/N⊠if you canât trust me, then at least remember what we once were. Remember the promises we made." His voice drops to a murmur, almost pleading. "Iâm not the monster sheâs painting me to be." The intensity in his words sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you more conflicted than ever as he finally, reluctantly, exits the room. What makes it all worse is that neither of them is truly thinking about you. Neither one noticed that youâve only just discovered your own name, that you're lost and confused. They donât see that you donât want to be manipulatedâyou want to be understood.
âYou are like himâŠâ you murmur, recognizing that youâre no longer in your hospital room. Everything around you is intensely whiteâthe walls, the bed you're seated on, every corner spotless and untouched. A cross hangs on the wall behind the priest, casting a shadow that flickers slightly, as if from candlelight. The room feels steeped in something sacred, almost otherworldly, like a faint echo of a memory stirring within you. The priest looks at you with a serene expression, though thereâs an unmistakable weight behind his gaze. As he steps closer, the almost sacred atmosphere around you amplifies the tension. You try to process the overwhelming resemblance to Dr. Mayhewâeven the contours of his face are identical, but the priestâs shorter, more traditional hairstyle highlights the difference. Your mind wavers between doubt and recognition, as if your subconscious is trying to unveil something long forgotten.
âYou keep searching for answers outside yourself, yet everything you need lies within,â he murmurs, his deep voice echoing through the room like a quiet revelation.
âFather, I donât know. I donât know what to do, what to feel,â you whisper, your voice breaking as you meet his gaze. Tears slip down your cheeks, and a quiet, aching desperation fills the space between you. The priest, unmoved yet tender, holds your gaze.
âFaith moves mountains, and as long as it resides within you, you will be safe,â he murmurs, his voice a gentle command that resonates deeply. âFind your faith, and you will know whatâand whomâto believe.â
Despite the haziness, a strange comfort wraps around your heart, soft yet unexplainable. His words, laced with a familiar warmth, guide you into a calm acceptance, though the reason remains unknown. Then, leaning closer, he whispers in your ear, âNow, kneel and seek forgiveness.â Almost instinctively, you find yourself on your knees before him, grasping the folds of his robe at his knees, your head bowed as though in reverence.
âFather, forgive me,â you whisper, your head bowed. His fingers lift your chin gently, compelling you to meet his gaze. âHow can I grant you absolution, when your hands are stained with blood, my sweet sinner?â he murmurs, lowering his face near yours, his breath warm against your ear, sending a chill down your spine.
Youâre shocked, frozen beneath his intense gaze, but unable to break away. As you glance down, horror floods your sensesâyou see your hands smeared with blood. Stumbling backward, you gasp, eyes wide in disbelief. The priest rises from the bed, stepping slowly toward you with an unwavering gaze, a faint trail of blood marking his face. Youâre overwhelmed with fear, a scream building in your throat until it finally erupts, piercing the silence. And thenâjust like thatâyou awaken from your haunting dream, heart racing, as the unsettling remnants of the nightmare fade into the dim light of your hospital room.
Dr. Mayhew, startled awake in the chair beside your bed, immediately reaches for you. âHey, Y/N, are you alright?â he asks, his voice filled with concern as he stands and wraps you in a firm embrace. His arms encircle you with a warmth that feels protective, grounding you in the present moment, as if heâs trying to shield you from whatever haunted you.
âI⊠I had a nightmare,â you whisper once you catch your breath, the tension beginning to ease as you lean into his hold. And everything feels like dĂ©jĂ vu. Just like before, you wake from a nightmare involving the priest, and once again, Dr. Mayhew is by your side. You can't help but wonder if thereâs a connection between his presence and the terrifying, bloody dreams that haunt you each night.
âDonât worry, darling,â Dr. Mayhew murmurs softly, his hand tracing gentle circles on your back, his touch soothing. The warmth of his embrace gives you an unexpected feeling of lightness, as though heâs holding you together amidst the lingering fragments of your nightmare.
âCan we leave this place?â you ask, your voice trembling as you try to stifle the tears that have flowed since you woke. He holds you a little closer, and you feel a subtle tension in his grip, as if considering your question carefully.
âWe will, soon,â he assures, his tone steady, though a flicker of something unreadable passes over his face. âFor now, rest. Iâll be here.â
"Stay here; I need you to answer meâwhile looking into my eyes," you insist, tugging at Dr. Mayhew's clothes, almost dislodging his tie. Though heâd intended to return to the hospital chair, he remains by your side, his gaze steady yet guarded.
âWill you even believe my answer?â he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of doubt, as though unsure anything he says would hold weight with you. His eyes search yours, wary yet attentive, as if weighing what heâs willing to reveal.
"You'll have to take the risk and believe that I will," you say softly, though you're unsure if you can truly trust anything he says. Dr. Mayhew's hand reaches gently to touch your face, but you instinctively pull back, murmuring, "Iâm sorry."
âAsk me whatever you wish, Y/N,â he says, his voice tinged with impatience, perhaps confused by your conflicting actionsâclinging to him, pulling him closer, yet retreating from his touch. You, too, are struggling to understand what youâre feeling, torn between wanting him near and pushing him away.
âDo you love me?â you ask, your gaze unwavering, trying to find answers in the depths of his eyes. His stare holds yours, as if the question should be irrelevant, as if he has already shown you everything you need to know. His expression softens, but the weight of his response carries something more.
"Iâm your husband, Y/N," he replies, his voice steady, but there's an intensity in his eyes, a depth of meaning that you canât ignore. "Doesn't that answer everything?" His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and for a moment, you wonder if the truth lies somewhere in the space between his claims and the confusion that churns in your heart.
"Answer me, Dr. Mayhew, do you love me?" you ask, using a more assertive tone, making it clear that you are not satisfied with his previous answer. He smiles, as if he can't believe it. "I love you, Mrs. Mayhew. I would die for you if necessary," he responds confidently. His eyes are fixed on you, as if waiting for something.
"Then even if the truth disappoints me. Even if you think it's going to hurt me, I need you to be honest. About these murders, about Megan, about everything." You speak firmly, staring into his eyes.
Dr. Mayhew's expression hardens as you mention the two things he surely wishes you would forget. For a moment, he looks at the hospital room wall without saying anything. "Honesty is a double-edged sword. As you inflict it on someone, someone can inflict it on you," his gaze darkens, his demeanor heavy, almost demonic. "If honesty is what you want; honesty is all you'll get."
He stands up, lifting his face to yours, now standing directly in front of you. "You think the truth will set you free, but sometimes it only binds you to something far worse," Dr. Mayhew says, so close to your face it feels as though he's about to kiss you. His words are heavy, yet his gaze is devilishly captivating. For a moment, you sense that he's savoring the expression of fear in your eyes. "Then let the truth bind us both, if that's what we deserve," you reply, challenging him, even though a part of you trembles with fear.
He straightens his coat, his hand running through his hair with a sharp, almost angry gesture, as though attempting to pull himself together. "Rest, Y/N. The truth will find its way to you, sooner or later. But I can promise you this: I am, and will always be, honest with the woman I loveâeven if she doubts me." With those words, Dr. Mayhew places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a gesture of tenderness. Then, without another word, he exits your hospital room, leaving you in a heavy silence.
#doctor charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew x y/n#charlie mayhew x reader#female reader#angst#suspense thriller#suspense romance#lois tryon#megan duval#grotesquerie fx#grotesquerie fanfic#charlie mayhew fanfic#charlie mayhew#nicholas alexander chavez#doctor charlie mayhew x reader#doctor charlie mayhew x y/n#charlie mayhew x female reader#Spotify#charlie mayhew smut#nicholas alexander chevez#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas chavez x y/n
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so utterly obsessed with her and this confusing ass show
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At first i lol'ed / And then i serioused
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this give me some stalker, freakado and obsessesive doctor charlie mayhew... maybe for lois??? or megan (idk, i bet more in lois...) .
or he is looking a crime scene... let see what's happenings in this final episode!!!
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Grotesquerie (2024-) â 1x10 i think i'm dead
#grotesquerie#grotesquerieedit#lois tryon#megan duval#marshall tryon#charlie mayhew#ed laclan#nurse redd#niecy nash#micaela diamond#nicholas alexander chavez#courtney b vance#lesley manville#travis kelce#I NEED SEASON 2 NOW
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The way we the audience viewed the other characters from episode 1 to 6 is how Lois viewed them.
In last nights episode we learned that Merritt has two degrees, sheâs confident in herself and sheâs the one in charge of her relationship with Ed. But in episodes 1 - 6 we see Merritt living at home with her mom, no degree and very insecure of herself and her body.
When we first meet Ed through Loisâs eyes heâs handsome, heâs smooth talking and heâs this gentleman thatâs here to sweep Lois off her feet and theyâre gonna ride off into the sunset. In reality Ed is not very suave, heâs got a mullet, works at Cinnabon, heâs cheating on Merritt and he was very upset about getting a divorce.
The jealousy that we see from Lois when Merritt is very happy with Ed, when she says theyâre going to move in together and how Merritt says she needs Ed because heâs going to support her no matter what. I always wondered why Lois had this animosity towards Merritt, thinking her mom was just angry with her daughter for being obese but itâs actually because of her marriage with Ed and how confident and independent Merritt actually is.
Sister Megan, who is actually the chief of police *I think*. Now this is where it starts to confuse me⊠why was Megan being portrayed as a nun? Why did Lois see her that way? Did Lois see detective Duval as this holier-than-thou person? This do-gooder?
The same goes for Charlie, who is in fact a doctor and not a priest. What did the scenes between Charlie and Megan mean? Especially since we didnât see their relationship through Loisâs eyes. Unless itâs also proof that Dr Mayhew and detective Duval are actually sleeping together. My guess is that Megan has been to the hospital visiting Lois and thatâs where the relationship started.
Or were they just roll playing this whole time and they both had a Priest/Nun kink? lmao.
Lois viewing Marshall as weak and thatâs why he ended up in the coma (if Iâm remembering correctly). Did she already view him as weak before then? was she already aware of his relationship with Redd, who appears to be some type of Cam Girl?
#grotesquerie#grotesquerie fx#lois tryon#marshall tryon#merritt tryon#eddie laclan#megan duval#sister megan duval#father charlie mayhew#dr charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew
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dont care that it happened to her it shouldve been me
#can the new eps drop on hulu im enjoying this show in a way that is very perverse and masturbatory#grotesquerie#father mayhew#sister megan#charlie mayhew#megan duval#grotesquerie spoilers
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Grotesquerie (2024â) | Season 1, Episode 9 "The Stinging Aroma of Sulfur" | Micaela Diamond as Chief of Police Megan Duval
#grotesquerie#grotesquerie fx#micaela diamond#megan duval#women of horror#dailytvwomen#dailytvsource#dailytvgifs#dailytvfilmgifs#mygifs#myedits#cinemapix#dailyflicks#filmtvcentral#cinematicsource#tvfilmsource#tvfilmgifs#tvfilmdaily#dailytvedit#fcsources#dailywomensource#dailyhorrorgifs
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no spoilers but i am distraught by the ending of grotesquerie....nobody talk to me rn
#girlblogging#grotesquerie#ryan murphy#nicholas alexander chavez#micaela diamond#niecy nash#lois tryon#megan duval#charlie mayhew x reader#father charlie mayhew#doctor charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew#fucking hell#whyyyy#like wtf
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(Camera frames from Ep 1, 2 & 4, post by em.michelle.gonzales on Instagram)
y'all are not obsessing over her enough
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Sister Megan & Father Charlie matching
(like or reblog if you used it đ)
#nicholas alexander chavez#charlie mayhew#grotesquerie#father charlie mayhew#ryan murphy#sister megan duval#megan duval#Grotesquerie matching icons
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HAUNTED
Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didnât expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murdererâand even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavezâs character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If there's no interest, unfortunately, I will be abandoning the idea.
AO3 LINK ONE
© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.
PREVIEW
Strange noises surround you, and the brightness stings your eyes, but you want to wake up. In the distance, you hear a woman shouting for a nurse to come help. Is she a relative? A friend? You wish you knew. You feel connected to machines, surrounded by tubes, which nearly makes you gag. âDonât pull on any of the wires attached to you. A nurse will be here to help you. My name is Lois Tryon. Detective Lois Tryon.â The woman speaks, trying to sound gentle but coming off as forced. She smells of cigarettes and alcohol. You remain silent, motionless. You donât want to dieâeven though you donât even know who you are.
"How long have I been here, Detective Tryon?" you murmur with some difficulty. There might be other important questions, but right now, this is the only one you need answered.
"About two years," she says, sounding almost excited about your recovery. A medical team enters your hospital room, adjusting and checking your body as if you were a dollâa sensation thatâs starting to make you feel nauseous. The detective vanishes amidst the medical team as they check your reflexes, vital signs, temperature, and run several other clinical tests that will apparently tell them how youâve woken up and if youâre truly all right.
Everything felt so secretive, with nurses whispering as if you couldnât hear them. Two doctors were even debating whether they should tell you something or not. They decided to wait for Dr. Mayhew, whoever he might be. After a while, you drifted off to sleep, still waiting for them to explain what was going on. You had the same dream as beforeâa strikingly attractive man dressed as a priest making you kneel, asking for forgiveness for some unnamed sin. What stood out was how he always touched your face gently, saying that if you truly sought forgiveness for what you had done, you would have to accept your punishment. Then you would start taking off your clothes for him. The man dressed as a priest would then put you between his legs and spank you. He used to ask if you would be a good girl for him, and when you answered; he would whisper to you to take responsibility for what you did. And then you found yourself surrounded by blood and corpses, like a nightmare.
This time, you opened your eyes, letting out an almost desperate cry. There are fewer tubes attached to you, fewer wires surrounding you. Thereâs also a doctorâa different one from those who tended to you before. Heâs lying back, asleep in a chair that doesnât look at all comfortable. You wonder if itâs common for doctors to fall asleep beside their patients or if youâre getting special treatment due to the time youâve been unconscious. The doctor is strikingly handsome. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his breathing deep and steady. Perhaps thatâs why he didnât wake at your cry.
You try to get up, nearly falling back at the sudden motion, but on the second attempt, you manage with some difficulty. Unsteady, you grab one of the spare blankets at the foot of your hospital bed and gently drape it over him. But thereâs something peculiarâyou feel as if youâve seen him before. You move closer, laying your fingers lightly on the warm skin of his hand. His hair falls messily over his face, obscuring your view. Then you recognize him: the slightly wicked priest from your dreams, too alluring to be a saint, who meted out your penance. Yet something within you stirs, as if he holds a deeper meaning, something that seduces and captivates you. You touch the scar on his forehead, feeling a surge of electricity ripple through your body.
Then he grasps your hand, pulling you down onto his lap, where you land anyway. Youâre silent for a moment, staring at him. âYou used to brush my hair away from my face whenever you wanted to tell me something embarrassing,â he says, his voice close to yours, a sly smile playing on his lips as he settles you in his lap. âYouâd say that if you focused on my scar, you wouldnât feel so shy talking to me.â Youâre surprised, but you donât move. Something about being close to him feels familiar, leaving your body unresponsive in his presence.
âI imagine you donât speak like that to all your patients, DoctorâŠâ you say, trying to keep a serious tone as you study the face of the man whose lap youâre seated on. He chuckles, clearly amused. âDr. Mayhew to some, Charlie to others. But to you, Iâm husband.â
The words startle you, and you jump off his lap, steadying yourself on the hospital bed. âIâm sorry, what did you just say?â you ask, bewildered. Youâre married?
âI know this might be difficult to understand, but we are married. Donât feel pressured to rememberâitâs all rightâŠâ he murmurs, rising from the chair and moving toward you. His calm tone, almost as if heâs trying to make you feel safe, is surprisingly comforting. Your gaze falls to his hands as they reach out to you, but you instinctively move to the opposite side of the bed.
âIâm sorry, but there must be some mistake. You canât be married to me. Your face looks like it stepped right out of a magazine. I can barely believe youâre a doctor, let alone my husband. If this is a joke, know that itâs unfair to mock someone who doesnât even know her own name,â you say, sounding slightly indignant. But honestly, what are the odds heâs really your husband?
Dr. Mayhew laughs, a sound both frustrated and enchanted. He runs a hand through his hair as if searching for patience. âItâs funny youâd say that. When we first met, you called me a âKen wannabe.â Later, you swore you hadnât fallen for me because of my looks. When you remember that, Iâll be sure to remind you of it,â he says, his gaze deep and searching, as if his eyes are speaking more than his words.
âIf youâre my husband, then tell me something only you would know about me!â you exclaim before he can come any closer. Your hands are tremblingâwhether from the intensity of his stare or some other reason, youâre not sure.
"You like to fuck when you're stressed, usually you prefer me to fuck you from behind but when you're pissed off, you bounce on me like there's no tomorrow. You don't like to feel pressure so I personally think you married me not because I'm handsome but because I let you be in charge. When I asked you to marry me, you broke up with me. You thought I was rushing things, and you couldn't stand the idea of not being able to give me children. You had two cats when you were younger and you named them 'Beelzebub' and 'Crowley' because your mother was very religious and you never liked her." He seems sincere, even if he's embarrassing you on purpose. It's obvious from the way he talks about your sex life, which you can't even confirm.
âHold on, Doctor. We both know the sexual details were unnecessary. If I canât remember other parts of my life, am I really going to remember what our⊠sex life was like?â you say, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands are beginning to sweat, but you donât break eye contact with Dr. Mayhew.
âActually, of all the details Iâve shared, those are the only ones we can test right now,â he says, closing in on you with surprising speed. His gaze is fixed on you, predatory and intent, as though youâre his prey. Strangely, you feel no embarrassmentâjust a stirring curiosity to uncover this for yourself.
âDo you often suggest casually sleeping with your patients? We are in your workplace, after all,â you say, feigning reprimand, though part of you wonders if heâs ever done this here before.
âI only suggest it to those who are married to me. And honestly,â he says, drawing closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper, âweâve done far worse in both our workplaces.â He nods between himself and you, hinting at shared memories. Thereâs a tension in the air, something almost tangible. You swallow hard, unsure why his closeness doesnât make you uncomfortableâbut rather feels strangely familiar.
âYou sound extremely dangerous saying things like that,â you murmur, holding Dr. Mayhewâs gaze as if daring him. For a moment, you think he might close the distance and kiss youâa thought that leaves you unsettled. How should you respond? Youâre not even sure if you believe heâs really your husband.
âYou were always one to take risks; has amnesia made you forget your true nature?â His fingers trace lightly along your arm, his gaze heavy with desire. He clearly wants you, yet that alone proves nothing. Whoever you once were, in this moment, you feel as though youâre standing bare before him.
"I hope Iâm not interrupting the happy couple, but I heard Mrs. Mayhew was awake. I thought Iâd finally come to speak with my most anticipated witness. Iâve waited two years for this conversation,â Detective Lois Tryon stands in the doorway of your hospital room, a victorious smile on her face. Dr. Mayhew doesnât look pleased to see her there. They exchange a tense look, while you remain close to him, caught between their silent standoff.
âI donât believe itâs appropriate to question my wife mere hours after sheâs woken from a two-year coma,â Dr. Mayhew says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. âIâm sure youâre aware of her memory issues, Detective Tryon. It would be courteous of you to give her a moment to adjust.â Youâre taken aback but stay pressed against his well-defined frame, momentarily wondering if heâs a doctor or a bodybuilder.
âItâs no surprise you donât think itâs appropriate for me to question your wife,â Detective Tryon replies, her tone laced with sharpness. âI would have to reveal to her that her husband is a primary suspect in a series of murders. That heâs so determined to evade justice he mightâve orchestrated the accident that left her comatose. And that heâs been having an affair with the lead investigator of this caseâwhile sheâs been unconscious.â Mayhew tenses, a flicker of fury crossing his face as he grips your waist tighter. You watch as his features contort slightly, weighing the situation. You canât help but wonder if youâre witnessing an innocent man being falsely accused or a guilty man feeling the noose tighten. For some reason, this only heightens your intrigue in him.
#doctor charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew x y/n#charlie mayhew x reader#female reader#angst#suspense thriller#suspense romance#lois tryon#megan duval#grotesquerie fx#grotesquerie fanfic#charlie mayhew fanfic#charlie mayhew#nicholas alexander chavez#doctor charlie mayhew x reader#doctor charlie mayhew x y/n#charlie mayhew x female reader#Spotify#charlie mayhew smut#nicholas alexander chevez#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas chavez x y/n
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obsessed with her is an understatement
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These are my two everyday moods.
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Grotesquerie (2024-) â 1x08 In Dreams
#grotesquerie#grotesquerieedit#lois tryon#merritt tryon#megan duval#nurse redd#niecy nash#micaela diamond#raven goodwin#lesley manville#tvgifs#spoilers
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