Gordon Ramsay x reader

you x Gordon the murderer pt.1 😋

People really like romanticising hard subjects like murder and so I'm going to do it too.

You'd been married to Gordon for just over 5 years now, you thought you knew everything there was to know about the man you loved, his passions, his desires, his fears... You'd never suspect he'd be capable of something as vile as this.

It was a few days earlier when you first discovered the hunk of meat rotting in your basement, you'd discovered it from the strong, pungent smell, a smell you could only describe as rot, a smell you'd smell when you'd pass the bins in the alley, which was usually stronger on hotter days, it'd always make you gag and out of reflex you'd cover your nose. To have this smell permeate your home felt violating and you wanted to put an end to it. Now.

Walking into the kitchen you picked up a few cleaning supplies; bin bags, bleach, air freshener (something you'd used in excess), towels and mold remover, looking up at your husband , you were amazed he wasn't as bothered about this problem considering he was horrified at the conditions of restaurants he visited, especially because this situation seemed considerably worse, something was rotting in your home.

Sighing and walking past Gordon, you made your down to the basement, the smell growing stronger and more unbearable, you gagged as the smell seemed to invade your airways and you squinted, your eyes burning. Slowly, you opened the door and cautiously walked down, your breathing becoming shallow in an attempt to block out the stench.

You pull the string to the light switch and it flickers for a while before the luminescent light fills the room, you stand, stumped, staring at nothing but a reddish brown stain on your concrete floor, the smell was still there but... What what has made that smell ? It couldn't have been mould, mould doesn't smell that bad, could it have been a leak? When was the last time a repairman had been here to look at your plumbing system? Despite your bewilderment, you began to relentlessly scrub the floor, dousing it with bleach and warm water and scrubbing until your hands turned red. The fumes made you feel dizzy and nauseous, but the smell still seemed to stay. Feeling helpless you released the towel and sat on the cold hard floor. Trying to take a deep breath in you never noticed how thick the air in the basement seemed to be. The dizziness seemed to grow with intensity and you couldn't find the strength to stand, leaning back slowly, you let your head touch the cold concrete and slowly closed your eyes.

You woke up, groggy, on your bed, the eery feeling of being alone set in and you slowly sat up. 'Gordon?' you yell out. No response. 'Gordon.' you try again, sliding both legs off the side of your bed, planting your feet onto the floor you began to step out into your living room, wavering and leaning against the wall. 'Gordon!' you yell out, annoyed that he seemed to just leave you alone after you passed out. 'Gordon, where are you, what are you doing?' you walked onto the landing and heard noise come from the basement. You suspect Gordon had continued your work and you walk to the door. You slowly open the door, looking through the crack you see your husband dragging something, what looked like a full bin bag, away from the centre of the room. That smell was still there. You continue to watch, your curiosity growing, yet you felt cautious, this wasn't something he'd do. What was he doing? He finally got to the back door and pushed it open, dragging the bag and then closing the door behind him. You climb down the stairs and amble towards the back door and once again open a tiny crack, Gordon was throwing the bag into the alley bins, the same ones that gave off that awful smell. You began to put two and two together, the smell, the bins, Gordon, his lack of worry, this was because of him. Somehow, it's because of him.

You saw him return from the alleyway and quickly hid behind the washing machine, watching your husband walk through the door, his normal stoic self. He began to get to work with your cleaning supplies, scrubbing the floor and spraying the air freshener until there was no trace of the stain or smell.

You watched, confusion and worry continuing to invade your mind, your position behind the washing machine was cramped and uncomfortable and, to your horror, your body gave way to the claustrophobic environment and you begun to slip. Your hands stopped your fall but the slap of your hands hitting concrete and bang of your body against the machine had alerted Gordon.

Your heart pounded as Gordon turned with a look of worry anger but somehow his body kept his stoic composure. He turned fully and made his way towards the washer, your heart pounding as you shrank.