Some oneshots of your favorites!
I write for:
- Avengers/MCU
- Criminal Minds
- Harry Potter
- Star Wars
- The Originals
- The 100
- Twilight
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I own none of these characters. All rights go to their respective creator:
- Stan Lee (Avengers/MCU)
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You frown as you look around the empty apartment, the only living soul other than yourself being Sergio. You sigh and stroke his fur, his purring bringing you little joy.
You set to making yourself breakfast, reminiscing about a time not too long ago when your girlfriend, Emily, would leave breakfast on the table for you before she left for work.
That all changed about three months ago.
She started pulling away, coming home less and less. You feared she was cheating on you, but you knew deep down that Emily was not the type to cheat, no matter how dead the relationship was— and your relationship was far from dead.
You planned on proposing a few weeks ago, but Emily never showed up to the restaurant. You waited for hours and eventually gave up and went home. The second you walked in the door, you saw Emily sitting on the couch.
"Where were you?" you ask, throwing your coat on the hanger. She looks up, surprised.
"Home?" she replies.
"We had a reservation at six," you deadpan. Emily's eyes widen, and she looks at the clock. Eight o'clock.
"Oh, God, (Y/N). I'm so sorry. I forgot. I've been swamped at work, and—"
"It's fine," you lie. You just want this conversation to end. You've had enough disappointment for one night.
"Please don't do that. Talk to me," she pleads. You slam your bag on the island and turn around.
"Now you wanna talk? Not when I asked you to tell me what's been bothering you this past month, not when I tried to comfort you while you cried for some reason I don't know, but you wanna talk when you did something wrong?" you question, trying— and failing— to stay calm. Deep down, you know you're being irrational, but your girlfriend's cold shoulder has become too much.
"I can't talk about it," she mumbles. You glare at her, wanting nothing more than to see into her mind.
"Fine. I'm going to bed. Goodnight." You say nothing more, and neither does she. You storm into the bedroom, slamming the door harder than necessary.
After that night, Emily slept on the couch. Though you're frustrated and hurt by her coldness, you would gladly take the couch, knowing she needs as much sleep as possible, but no words were exchanged on the matter.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Sergio. I miss her," you admit to the cat. He meows, rubbing against your waiting hand. You take solace in that they're done with their case today, and she'll be home. You need to talk to her and force her to talk to you. You don't know what's happening with her, but you've got to figure it out. You love her too much to let whatever it is tear you apart.
Your phone rings, and you glance at the caller ID. You furrow your eyebrows, picking it up.
"Hotch? Everything okay?" you ask, your heart beating rapidly.
"You need to get to Harding Hospital. Emily's been hurt."
That's all you need to hear before you have your shoes on and are in the car, speeding to the hospital. You haphazardly park the car, running into the hospital.
"I'm looking for Emily Prentiss," you gasp, bracing yourself on the front desk.
"(Y/N)?" a familiar voice calls. You turn around and meet Garcia's teary eyes. You rush over to her, and she wastes no time pulling you to her.
"What's going on?" you panic.
"She's been stabbed. She's in surgery," Rossi informs, his hand resting comfortingly on your back. You take a deep breath, every possible outcome flitting before your eyes.
You hadn't told her you loved her in weeks, and now you might not be able to.
"She's going to be okay, right?" you ask meekly.
"I don't know," Rossi answers truthfully. Garcia leads you to the couch, sitting you between herself and Morgan. You wait silently for any news, praying to whatever deity is listening that she makes it through.
Hours later, JJ walks out into the waiting room. You stand, focusing on JJ's face for any sign that the other half of your soul is okay.
JJ's bottom lip trembles. "She never made it off the table."
And, just like that, your world collapses.
You fall to your knees, and the only thing on your mind is that the love of your life is dead, and you can't tell her you love her.
Your tears come silently at first before your chest caves in, your cries constricting your throat and cutting off your air supply. You claw at the floor, desperate for some stability, something to ground you while your world falls apart.
You faintly feel arms wrap around you, and you grip onto the person, screaming into their shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," Rossi whispers, his voice cracking with those three words. You shake your head, unable to speak.
Emily's dead.
She died thinking you don't love her.
And now everything you wanted to say dies with her.
