#lasin island series

[anya-anya002]

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔴𝔢𝔡 (𝔦𝔦)

ꜰᴜɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ! ᴀʟᴇx ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇɴᴛɪᴄᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: age gap (21 f, 37 m), cheating, the regular degulars of the funeral home, mentions of death, regret

(no beef to Rhode Island-)

You dusted off your emerald sweater dress as Alex’s voice echoed throughout the funeral home. He was with clients, apparently, their mother had passed. Their voices raspy with prior tears and sobs. You frowned and sat in the small chapel in the back of the funeral home.

The ‘Park and Kin Home’ was supposedly as old as the town of Lasin, and the chapel was proof of it. Old tapestries made of hand-dyed wool hung on the tall granite columns that were posted on the four corners. Their sides were carved out to house candles. What once was wax is now plastic and battery candles that artificially flickered. That didn't seem to hinder its charm. The large stained glass window that's just an ombre of greens from a pale almost clear chartreuse to a deep forest green.

While you enjoyed the quiet, the voices from the main office stopped. Possibly, they stopped a while ago; the sounds of footsteps filled the chapel. Slowly, you turned in your pew to see Alexander at the end of the nave. Dressed in grey coveralls, the zipper of it undone to the middle of his sternum as he wiped dirt-covered hands with a rag. His greying hair brushed back.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Hmm,” you replied, your eyes heavy, and the lashes you wore today made them feel heavier. You curse yourself for binge-watching cooking shows until three in the morning.

“Mara’s mother is planning a trip to Rhode Island for the girls,” he said. As you looked at him, you lifted one of your eyebrows inquisitively.

“Yea, I heard,”

“Are you going?” he asked. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Nah, I have a few things to do during the week,” you brushed off and leaned into the pew more. He arched an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“Like, not going to Rhode Island,”

He laughed loudly, the stench of cigarette smoke had reached you when he did that and you sat up slightly.

“What do you got going on that's better than a vacation?” he pried, his lips curled into a smirk as he lazily smoked his cigarette, eyeing you. You looked at him and pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from blurting out his name.

But thankfully, the tune of the funeral march interrupted your banter.

“Ah, I gotta take this,” he said as he scurried away to the foyer. You simply shrugged it off, getting up and making your way out of the chapel.

You hummed, trying to fill the emptiness of the home and most importantly, your mind. The conversation Mr.Turner was having somewhere within the place reverberated through the vacant halls. Tempting you. Your head and whole body turned, trying to face away the noise.

But, temptation is a human experience and sadly, you’re one of those things.

“I’m not telling you to calm down dearest,” Mr. Turner said. You raised a brow and stood in the corner of the atrium of the chapel quietly.

“Vivi, I’m just saying that I can’t understand you,” he said. His voice mirrored throughout the little hallway. You could hear the slight worry in him as your lips furrowed. Folding your arms and turning more toward the stained glass window.

“On Wednesday, yes, Vivienne I will drop Mara and you off,”

“At 12:45pm, at Chetfield Airport, yes, “ he said. You imagined his face saying all that. The way his muscles must hurt from holding back a series of frowns and grimaces.

“Alright,” you heard him finish; a deep sigh followed. Then silence, an eerie, thick, deafening quiet as you walked toward his voice.

A myriad of thoughts ran through your mind as your shoulders slumped. The shuffling of your shoes filled the void in your ears as the painting covered walls pass you by.

There he was in the main office. The phone cradled in one hand as he raked the other through his hair. The cigarette that was out earlier was now between his lips and leaking thin rivers of smoke.

“I love you too, baby,” he said, not a whisper but a sweet, blissful coo.

A dull ache began to steep in your chest. Your eyes screwed shut for a moment as you inhaled.

“Y/N, I didn't know you were still here,” he said. You gave a curt smile. Your nose could smell the spearmint flavoring of his cigarette’s filter.

“Yea I uh, I left my charger in the chapel,” you said. Alex looked at you for a second, ashes plopping from his cigarette onto the blue rug below.

Your skin crawled the longer he stared. Like little pinworms burrowed deep within your dermis as you check the time to see it’s ‘1:57 pm.’ Blinking, you returned your gaze to Mr.Turner.

“Uh, Mr. Turner, I gotta head back home,”

“So soon? I thought you wanted help with your restorative arts class.”

You shook your head, wanting to hide beneath your skin and never be found as you mind screamed at the pregnant pause between you two.

“Well, um, let me show you out then,” he said. Looking slightly dismayed as he puts his cigarette out and walks towards you. You looked away from him for a moment, feeling the delayed shame that should’ve hit you a while ago, hit you. Your eyes blurry as he lead the two of you out. Why in the fuck was he so kind?

His large palm met the small of your back as you tensed. Your heart sped up at the warmth of his hand.

“I’ll see you Saturday right?” He asked, a big smile on his face as you feebly nod. Scurrying out of the funeral home and to your car with tears burning in your eyes.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅: @yourstartreatment @himesuedi @disfordangerous4

* 4 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 🫧~

#anya—anya #my fics #alex turner #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #arctic monkeys #mortuary au #funeral director! alex #fluff and suggestive? #practicum #mentor x mentee #the last shadow puppets

[a-girls-geeky-shelf]

Wanted a short story to get into a Halloween🎃 mood, guess now I'm starting a new series 🙈

#halloween reads #short novel #a note below #andrew butcher #lasin island series