#neighbor romance
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#the duff#kody keplinger#hamilton high#designated ugly fat friend#enemies to lovers#high school romance#bianca piper#wesley rush#bianca and wesley#wesley x bianca#he falls first#matchmaker gone wrong#matchmaker#neighbor romance#playboy in love#two person love triangle#books recommendations#new books#libros recomendados#libros#frase libro#booklover#book couples#booknerd#fling#one night stand#couple aesthetic#book quotes#books and reading#book tumblr
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oh i just ADORE me some good neighbor romance
like you're telling me there's this absolute hunk of a man who lives next door??? and i meet him without really leaving my house?? sounds like a dream to me
(and he'll rail me?? in both of our flats?? SIGN ME TF UP)
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Beauty and the Beast
An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.
Art by ilameys
Zettai Zetsumei ⢠Co shu Nie
Word Count: 5.7k
â ď¸: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ⼠Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.
I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi đ
Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsomeâŚit was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.
You had hoped that eventually, heâd notice you and finally take you on a date!
But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake�
Well, you didnât have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.
âGood Morning.â
Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.
âOh, good morningâŚâ He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.
âHow are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.â You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. âI suppose it is.â He then yawned before saying âWhatâs wrong? Are you looking for another?â
You blinked. âHuh?â Your eyes then darted down to your hands. âO-OhâŚsure.â You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. âYouâre only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.â He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.
âTh-Thanks!â
âDonât mention it.â
After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!
Thunk!
You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.
You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasnât busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. Youâd be a good wife to him.
On the first day of the job, you didnât receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didnât pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day.Â
âI hope work is treating you well.â You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. âYeah, I suppose.â He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. âAny days off soon? Iâd like to see you outside of your uniform.â You winked at him and he just shrugged. âDunno.â
âWell, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day youâd think you would be free?âÂ
You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said âI donât really know. I think Iâm busy but Iâll let you know if that changes.â
Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. âOh, no worries.â You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a âthank youâ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasnât something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.
It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didnât want to seem like a bother. ButâŚthen you saw him again.
âFrancis?â You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.
âI-IDâŚ?â You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. âDonât have it on me.â It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled âID.â
âW-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone whoâs already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.â You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.
You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D.Â
The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before theyâd arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didnât You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with.Â
In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.
âE-Excuse me, but you need toâ!â
âLet me in.â
Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too.Â
You shook your head. âN-No! Iâm not letting a monster in.â You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.
âBut I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? Iâd love to t-tear it off of you.â The creatureâs neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldnât have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.
âCome on, Darling, I know youâre not about to call those bastards again. I donât want to have to hurt anyone else.â The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.
3312âŚ
You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.
âHello?â
âP-Please send help!â You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.
You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. âI just want to taste youâŚâ
The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.
You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didnât see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.
âWhere do you think youâre going, Princess?â
His grip around your throat was so tight that you werenât able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you werenât able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.
The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.
Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didnât let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance
âP-Please.â
You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.
It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if youâd be a good enough meal for it.
âHe-ey, beautiful. It's⌠okayâŚâÂ
The doppelgängerâs speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thingâŚlike it was learning in real time.
Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.
You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.
When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside butâŚ
âŚyou remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.
âAllow me.â The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.
The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. âI see the way you look at him.â Its voice was laced with venomâanger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.
âBut youâd never look at me that wayâŚâ
The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldnât run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.
âI-I donât know what youâreââ You couldnât even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong.Â
You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.
âTell me you donât like it ân Iâll stop.â It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. Itâs warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.
Itâs soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. âMmm.â It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. âYouâre sensitive here, arenât you?â It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.
It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain butâŚit didnât. You felt the heated bulge beneath itâs bloodied white trousers. It throbbed.Â
Thatâs when it finally clicked for you. It wasnât playing with you like you were food. It wasnât trying to taste you and pick itâs teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.
âIâah~âĄ!â You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.
It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet youâd become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.
At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it wasâŚ.soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.
It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. âSoâŚgorgeous.â It pulled you forward. âWhen I saw you, I knew I wanted you.â
âY-You didâŚ?â You squeaked. Itâs touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. âTwo years Iâve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.â
Piece of meat?
âI donât know who you mean.â You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it meanâŚ
âF-Francis?â You knitted your eyes together in confusion.
âYesâHIM!â The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. ââŚI could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then Iâd see the way you look at him.â Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. âSo, I became himâŚbut better.â
You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. Youâd need to use both hands to hold it.
There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big âmanâ picked you up by your hair.
âGet on your knees.â He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. Youâve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.
âIâm gonna split you in half with this cock.â He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. âOpen your mouth.â
Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.
âI saidâŚopen your mouth.â
He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. âOpen.â He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull.Â
You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slowâŚor maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat.Â
You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. âGood girl.â He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.
âYou struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.â You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.
âKeep sucking.â He fucked into your throat and gentle too. âIâm close.â
 Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.
The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. âHey.â He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. âSwallow.â
You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.
You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. âBend over.â
You didnât really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head.Â
You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.
He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.
You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You werenât too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.
âUah!â You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!
You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. âMmm.â You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It mustâve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.
With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didnât stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.
âI-Is that it? Is that what you wantâŚ?â You asked, but you were only ignored.
âPick a hole.â
âWh-whaââ
âPick a hole, or I will.â
PickâŚa holeâŚ?
His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.
âUmâŚIââÂ
âBoth it is!â
Your eyes widened. âWait, what?!â
You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. âDamn youâre fucking tight.â He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep theyâd leave marks.Â
âW-Wait, you have to go slow!â You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. âI am.â He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didnât decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didnât matter how wet you were. He was too big.
It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.
The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasnât much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.
âP-PleaseâŚI canât take it!â You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldnât even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy.Â
âBeg for it then. Say you love me.â His breath hitched. âSay you want me and Iâll let you go.â
âIââ Slap!Â
You tried to speak. âI waââ Slap!
It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, heâd remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldnât help but smile.
The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldnât resist you once you were sitting at that desk.
âWhatâs wrong?â He teased, his deep voice going soft. âMy dick isnât in your mouth anymoreâŚso whatâs the issue?â He chuckled. âBeg.â
âI want you!â You blurted out.
âYouâŚwant me? Say thereâs no one else. Say you love me!â It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.
âIâŚI love youââ
âFUCK!â
Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.
âI love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagineââ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. âHere they come.â He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.
You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. âWhoâs comingâŚ? What are you talking aboutâŚ?â
The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all.Â
It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. âI found her, she's in here!â Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.
Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.
What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.
After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didnât sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of youâŚso now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy.Â
You hadnât seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didnât. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that itâs been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.
You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didnât bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.
âMan, I thought youâd never come back.â
You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.
âWhat are you doing here? What do youââ
âShh, princess.â He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.
You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that heâŚit, was attractive?Â
âWhy didnât you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?â You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. âBecause I love you.â He replied flatly.Â
âI donât know what that meansâŚâÂ
You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door.Â
âIâll get it.â The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn intoâŚyou. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.
âNo!â You blurted out. âDonât do that.â
The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.
It was Francis!
âItâs him!â You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.
âFrancis? What brings you here?â You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldnât hide anything from him.
âI heard what happened. âm so glad youâre okay.â Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked âF-FrancisâŚ?â
âI felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.â Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?
Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldnât help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. âW-Well, Iâm a lot tougher than I look.â
He wanted to smile back but he couldnât. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. âI know you are.â He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.
It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that heâs actually had feelings for you all this time, so heâd save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. âStay safe. Iâll check on you again later.â
For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didnât feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesnât see you as more than just a neighbor.
Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.
But thenâŚ.
âYou look awfully happy.â
The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didnât bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.
You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. âI saw everything so donât even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I wouldâveâŚâ
âDonât hurt him!â You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didnât budge. âWhy not?!â
âBecauseâŚIâll be sad. And you donât want me to be sad, do you?â Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but youâd do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.
âShit.â The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemedâŚconflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.
âYou donât want him. You just wanna marry a guy. Iâll marry you.âÂ
You shook your head. âNo. Y-You canât. Youâre not him.â
âOf course I am.â His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. âYou can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.âÂ
You felt your stomach do a flip!
âNo! Iâm not calling you that. Even though you look just like himâŚwh-what do I call you anywayâŚ?â You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.
âFrancis.â
âStop! Iâm never using that name for you.â You got angry enough to shove him but he didnât move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldnât push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you.Â
âMmmâŚ.â You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. âWh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for youâŚ?â
Franz, huh?
âPerfect.â
Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2
#that's not my neighbor#thats not my neighbor#francis mosses#Francis Mosses x reader#Milk Man#Milk man x reader#Yandere Milk Man x Reader#Yandere francis mosses#tnmn#doppleganger#dark romance
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Yandere Short Stories:
Let Me In
Yandere Francis Mosses (Doppelgänger) x GN Reader
Swish. Swish.
You leaned back as your foot steadily rocked the cushioned seat of your desk chair from side to side. It was yet another boring day of being the doorman for this apartment complex. Yet you couldnât help the shudder run down your spine from time to time since you constantly felt under surveillance. Then again, perhaps you were going slightly insane from working such long hours in such a narrow space? There was no way someone would stalk you of all people⌠right?
You let out a low chuckle at your thoughts. You recently felt as if your days melt together. It was the same routine every single day. Stop the doppelgängers from entering the apartment complex. Check their IDs and entry requests. Call their room. You were tired of this consistent repetitive pattern! You wanted some excitement for once-
âHello.â You jumped to attention when a handsome man stood before you. Your eyes nearly shot out of your head at the blood that stained his face. Was it macabre of you to find that attractive. âI just got off work and Iâd like to call it a day in my apartment.â
âY-you have a little.â Your breath hitched when he wiped the blood off with his thumb and gave you the faintest of smiles.
âAh. I hadnât realized I made a mess earlier. Thank you.â The man then handed you his ID and entry request. Francis Mosses was it? He was indeed a looker and his ID checked out⌠but he wasnât on todayâs list.
âIâm sorry, Francis. Youâre not on the list today-â you scream when he slammed his hands on the window. His half-lidded eyes now wide open and bloodshot. This man no longer looked like an angel, but rather a demon. A demon that would no doubt rip you apart and swallow you whole.
âIâm not on the list? Iâm sure you could let me in.â You quickly push the emergency button but his large hands grab the metal doors before you can shut them completely. You gulp when you spot the veins bulging from his gray hands. âHavenât you been bored lately? You always look so lonely at your desk⌠Iâm sure I could show you a good time.â
Well, Francis wasnât wrong- no! You canât endanger the residents! You dialed the D.D.Dâs number with haste which made the doppelgänger sigh.
âFine! Have it your way.â Francis casted you one last look. âBut I will be back. And you will let me in. Remember, Iâm always watching.â
You deflated like a ballon and sunk back into your chair. Your body felt as if your bones had completely melted from how scared you were⌠youâve never encountered such an aggressive doppelgänger beforeâŚ
âYou have contacted the D.D.D. A group of agents has been sent to your building.â The garbled voice on the other end of the line brought you back down to reality.
You sighed and leaned forward to put your face in your palms. What on earth did Francis mean that he would always be watching?
#yandere fic#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere x reader#gn reader#gender neutral insert#yandere short story#yandere horror#thatâs not my neighbor#not my neighbor#francis mosses#francis moses#milk man#yandere fanfiction#yandere concept#Yandere insert#yandere obsession#yandere imagines#stalker yandere#stalker#dark romance#horror short story#Yandere doppelgänger#yandere content#yandere headcanons#yandere idea
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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]
in holy matriphony ch4. in a motherâs eyes
á° pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)
á° summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.
á° genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s
á° warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!
á° chapter. 4/x
á° words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)
a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((
nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)
âJust go ahead and sign right here for me.â
You take the pen from the hospice nurseâs hand. Itâs cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue.Â
Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouseâs signature.
âWeâll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since heâll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,â the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders.Â
The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.
You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you werenât prepared to let her go just yet. You werenât prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, sheâs been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.
But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldnât. She couldnât even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.
It was when you realized you couldnât even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.
âIs that a wedding ring?â your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, âare you married?â
You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. âYes, mom. I am.â
âWhy am I here?â she asks you, âI donât want to be here.â
You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didnât make it any easier. âI know. Iâm sorry. Itâs just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.â
âWho are you married to?â she asks.
âTo Satoru,â you tell her, âour neighbor.â
She lets out a small gasp. âThe sweet boy who fixed our A/C?â
You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days sheâll look at you like youâre a stranger. âYes mom.â
âOh, I like him,â she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. âHow long have you been married?â
You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesnât feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.
Little white lies, thatâs what they are. Harmless ones. Thatâs what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.
âIâll come back soon, okay? Iâll tell you more about him some other day,â you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.
You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.
The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like youâve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you canât quite shake from your bones.
Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. Thereâs a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and youâre guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.
When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.
The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, âTotalâs $68.65, cash or card?â
âCard.â
Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, âUh, and could I get one of those, too?â
The cashier looks behind himself to what youâre pointing at before turning around. âSure.â
The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.
âOh!! omg, y/n,â you hear a feminine voice call out and youâre instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.
You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when sheâs about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.
âOh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,â you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.
âYeah, I um,â she points over her shoulder towards the hospice thatâs standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didnât know any better, you would think it was a prison. âRemember I told you my friendâs mom is sick and sheâs at this hospice?â
âYeah,â you say.
âI was just visiting her mom with her,â she tells you.
âAw,â you comment, âI see, I see.â
You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldnât stomach going into work when your ex-best friendâs stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a ânewbie in the EDâ, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. Sheâs someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.
And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.
âWhat are you doing here?â she asks.
âI actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,â you say, âandâŚthanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.â
Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. âOh, thatâs wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!â
âShhh,â you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, âthe feds are everywhere.â
She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. âHeyâŚum, ifâŚif you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you donât have to do everything alone.â
You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. Thereâs a silent gratitude that you give her, because itâs hard for you to express any feelings with words, but youâve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them.Â
âThank you, Hana,â you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.
She smiles at you. âTake care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,â she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.
You watch her walk away until you canât see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.
When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojoâs house. You have a feeling that you wonât be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.
The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied.Â
The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.
It doesnât seem like Gojoâs home. A glance at the clock tells you itâs close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where heâs at, why heâs out so late, when heâll be home, and whatâs for dinner, but you canât even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.
Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and youâre about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husbandâs life.
With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you.Â
Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?
The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you havenât been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days youâve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If heâd think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.
Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parentsâ divorce, and youâve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights canât seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults youâve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that donât spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because youâre so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come.Â
You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You canât remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctorâs appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed.Â
But your mother is in hospice now, so youâve made time, right? Youâve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?
By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesnât really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men donât really do the whole âcluttering the house with millions of photos of their familyâ thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wifeâsâhis eventual real forever wifeâs, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.
Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? Thereâs no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home youâd have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojoâs a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So youâre not exactly surprised heâs invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too.Â
There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. Thereâs a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that itâs half empty with stale coffee. Heâs got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.
i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D
A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And youâre sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, youâd see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.
The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that thereâs a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that.Â
The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesnât seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then youâd tell him that itâs just for your peace of mind. But whether heâd compromise or not after that, youâre really not sure.
You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but itâs comfortable once youâre settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. Youâve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but itâs too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.
On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.
Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because itâs a sight that feels familiar but also one you havenât seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes.Â
Youâve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. Itâs been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict.Â
Thereâs a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex youâll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didnât know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light itâ
A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.
You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice heâs wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as heâs crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like heâs on the other end of a long work day.Â
You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way heâs looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like youâre in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.
âIââ you stutter.
He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you donât even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now youâre both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.
ây/n,â he says, âlet go.â
âNo,â you say stubbornly.
He sighs and tugs a little harder. âGive them to me.â
âButââ you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if thatâd work on him, âIâmâŚâ Your grip on them tightens. âIâm stressed.â
He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. Youâre surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. âThere are better ways to relieve stress,â he tells you candidly.Â
âLike what?â you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, âand donât say sex.â
He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. âDamn. I didnât have a back-up answer.âÂ
You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them.Â
âI didnât know you smoke,â he says after a century-long minute.Â
You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together.Â
You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. âI donât. Well, I havenât. Um, not for a while.â
âHuh. I see,â he says.
Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and youâve become entirely too aware of the feeling.
âSo,â he says, breaking the awkward silence, âyour momâs in hospice now?â
You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you wonât look like youâre entirely depressed about it.
âThatâs good,â he says, âno issues with the insurance?â
You shake your head. âThey need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,â you tell him. âWeâll have to go in person.â
He nods slowly to affirm heâll make time for it. âI really hope things get better for your mom,â he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the catâs path.Â
âMyââ you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that youâll be nice to him for once, ââŚmy mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.â You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesnât completely destroy you. âShe was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.â You try to bite your tongue, but canât help it when you say, âalthough Iâm pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.â
âYup. Thatâs exactly what I did.â
You roll your eyes and sigh.
Another awkward silence.
âCan I ask you a question?â you say.
âSure.â His voice sounds deeper, like heâs sleepy.Â
âWhy did you agree to marry me? Thatâs not something people just do out of nowhere.â
He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. âWhy? Having regrets?â he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side.Â
âJust answer me.â
He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. âI donât know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasnât going to say no.â
You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But youâre too jaded to question them.
âIt costs nothing to be nice,â he adds.Â
You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didnât want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place.Â
âI think,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, âthat sometimes it does.â
A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure youâve completely lost Gojoâs interest at this point, where heâs finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. Youâre ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing youâve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.
âSometimes,â he instead speaks up, and itâs so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, âyou can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I donât think thatâs any reason to stop being nice to others.â
You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and youâre mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that heâs just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that heâsââŚhandsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.
He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. âI sound like a fucking youth pastor.â He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. ��God, itâs getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.â
You blink up at him with no commentary to add.Â
He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one.Â
He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like youâve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.
You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. Heâs close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but itâs comforting somehow. A fragrance thatâs more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight.Â
He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.
The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like heâs inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. Youâre not sure if heâs satisfied with his inspection.
âWhere did you get itââ you blurt out.
His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before heâs back to examining the ring. âIt was my momâs.â
Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his motherâs ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didnât care about it much, some people donât care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. âeverything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalogâ, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so youâre compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too.Â
âWhy would you give me this?! You couldâve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,â you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.
âWell I wasnât exactly given much time to think of other options.â
âButââ you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.
He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when theyâre pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. âItâs kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasnât sure.â
Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasnât one of the sweetest kisses youâve ever known.
You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his.Â
âRule #1,â you remind him with a soft whisper, âno touching.â
You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. Youâre standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and youâre also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too.Â
You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like heâs confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. Youâre prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesnât press you about it.Â
âYâknow,â he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, âthose oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns youâve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.â
âGo fuck yourself.â
â˘ââââ˘â˘âŚâ˝âŚâ˘â˘ââââ˘
âSign right here for me, sir.â
You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where heâs been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if heâd suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.
Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.
The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah youâll receive an itemized bill in the mail. Youâre trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that youâve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, youâre here to scope out the quality of this place youâve just dumped your mom at.
The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasnât bad, this place.
âThanks, you too,â you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around.Â
Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.
âAlright,â he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, âwhereâs your momâs room?â
âHuh?â
âWhatâs her room number?â he asks you.
âY-You wanna go see her??â
âOf course I want to,â he says, âsheâs my mother-in-law.â
You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. âYouâre getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.â
âI get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,â he says, âof fucking course Iâd get invested.â
You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your motherâs room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojoâs face as he peers off to whoeverâs behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.
âIs that Dayton countyâs sexiest realtooorrr???â the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like âit issssâ before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight.Â
âWow! Ladies, soâ...so great to see you two,â he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesnât address them by name.
Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray thatâs probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. âOh whoâs this?? Another one of your clients??â
âOh, no, sheâs myââ
âIâm his wife,â you interrupt him, irritated for some reason.Â
Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion.Â
âI didnât know you were married,â Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.
Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. âVery happily,â he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.
Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now youâre pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you heâs safe. For now.Â
âYou werenât married when I asked you if you were a month ago,â Bombshell #1 sneers at him. Itâs true, the math wouldnât make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.
âOr when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,â Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt.Â
Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. âHow is that, by the way?â he asks in an attempt to change the subject, âthe half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?â
The woman let out an offended scoff andâwere her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. âNo. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.â
Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. âIâm the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!â She grabs her friendâs arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friendâs pull of her arm.Â
Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, âI hope you find someone who treats you better,â and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.
You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face.Â
âThatâs what you get for being a manwhore,â you tell him.
âIâm not a manwhorââ
âYou went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!â you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, âdespicable, really.â
He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. âNo. We werenât fake-married yet,â he vindicates himself, âand it wasnât a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.â
âSatoru. You do realize youâre leading these women on, right? I mean, Iâve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think youâre just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most peopleâs definition of flirting.â
âThatâs ridiculous.â
âItâs true.â
He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. âAlright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasnât worked on you then?â
You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. âYouâre never friendly with me. Youâre always rude to me.â
âWhat? Iâm not always rude to you.â
âWell, youâre certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,â you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.
âCan we not do this right now? Weâre in the middle of a hospice.âÂ
âGod, youâre such a cop-out,â you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway thatâll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojoâs on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.
âWhat the fuck is a cop-out?â he asks you from behind.
âLook it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you donât know what the Internet is, either,â you spat.Â
You waltz right up to your motherâs room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.
âHi! How can I help you?â she asks.
âIs it alright if we visit my mother?â you ask her.
âOh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.â
Your brow furrows. âB-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??â
The nurse stops in her movements. âWell, yesterday and today, thatâs just what she has decided to use.â
You immediately become hostile. âThatâs not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesnât want to use them.â
The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. âMaâam,â she squeaks out, âwe see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. Weâll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.â
Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. âRightâŚIâm sorry.â
The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that youâre just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.
You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.
âWhat?â you snap at him.
âAre you doing okay?â
âJust fine, thanks.â
âAre you sure?â
âSatoru,â you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, âjustââŚjust stop.â
His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you.Â
âAll set!â she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.
You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. âGlad to know Iâm not the only one thatâs scared of you.â
You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.
Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.
âHi mom,â you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, âhow are you doing?â
Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.
âOh, hi dear,â she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.
You match her smile with your own. âMom, I brought someone here to see you.â You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, âthis is Satoru, my husband.â
Your motherâs eyes widen, âOh! I know him,â she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like youâve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesnât know who he is, âheâs my neighbor!â
You sigh, âyes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?â You attempt to finish her sentence for her.
She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. âButââŚbut, whyâŚâ she trails off and then looks at you, âIâm sorry, are you my nurse?â
Your shoulders drop slightly. âNo, mom, itâs me. Your daughter. Do you remember?â
Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. âOhâŚyes, yesâŚmy little girl. I remember you, of course!â
Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, âIâm glad.â
âWhereâs your father?â she asks, âhe said heâd bring me someâŚoh dear, whatââŚhe said heâd bring me tea. Iâve been waiting.â
âMom, dad isââ you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. âWell, heâll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.â
âOh okayâŚâ she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. âOh youâre a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.â
Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your momâs bed. âYes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.â
âWith the lemon tree!â
âThe avocado tree,â you correct her with a small sigh. âAnd heâs my husband mom. And also our neighbor.â
âOh I see I seeâŚâ she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.
Thereâs a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.
âOh, sit down here, wonât you?â she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.
He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.
âOh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,â she glances at you, confused once more, âwell I remember her when she was so little but she looksâŚa little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.â
Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, youâre still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.
âYouâll take good care of my sweet girl, wonât you?â she asks him.
And it knocks the wind out of you.
It drops your heart to the center of the earth.
The thought that, after so many moments where she doesnât remember you, she still knows that youâre someone she wants to keep safe.
Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojoâs hand slip out from being held by your motherâs hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression youâve been growing used to seeing these days.Â
âYes,â he responds, eye contact level with hers, âI will.â
A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, âexcuse me.â And then youâre standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.
Itâs hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like youâre about to pass out.
Even in the haze of your emotions, thereâs this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your motherâs arms, but even then, you didnât want her to baby you. You would say to her, Iâm a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world.Â
That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldnât be remembered as her motherâs little girl anymore.Â
No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your motherâs voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.
In a motherâs eyes, youâll always be her baby.
And thatâs why it hurts.
Because itâs all fake.
Itâs phony.
Itâs not real.
This arrangement you have with Gojo.
And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.
Not in the way she believes there will be.
Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.
Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.
âHey,â he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, âhey, hey, hey,â he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state youâre in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.
You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You donât even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.
Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you donât have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.
âI know,â he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until thereâs nothing left to cry. âI know.â
You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.
With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly itâs suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.
Itâs possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didnât matter because youâre pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.
He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet.Â
A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you canât handle thatââŚthat way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I wonât allow it.
âI want to go home,â you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. Heâs supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry.Â
Heâs silent for a moment, but you can tell heâs searching for things to say. âYou donât want to say bye to your mom before we go?â
You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. âNo. I just want to go home.â
ây/n,â he tried to convince you.
You finally look up at him. âPlease.â
He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that itâs frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,
âOkay.â
.
.
.
.
.
[end of chapter 4]
a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0
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âŞď¸â â ĐОвОо MОНОкО đŽđĽ ââ âŞď¸
(Translation: New Milk)
â đ!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!đ
â male! subtop! Francis Mosses / male! dombottom! Reader
â overstimulation if ya squint a lil, milking, breeding, dumbification, passing out, belly bulge (If your not into this, look away!! đťđť)
â implied Russian speaking Francis (translated from google translate and research for needed accuracy, however, any form of critique or correction definetely is allowed!)
â short (I think???)
â author has played Not My Neighbor
°âânsfw under the cutââ°
You and Francis had a thing. And, fuck, for a minimum wage worker who barely gets any kind of rest at all, he's fucking good at what he does. He's a big fan of milking. Not his job, no, he could rant about how shitty it can be despite not wanting to get a new one (A/N: so real) but he's a fan of milking. Just the other kind of milking.
The first tim you two had sex, he was pretty sheepish about it, yeah. He didn't know if you prefered topping or bottoming so he settled for a handjob. You did the same as well. Until you both got used to each other and realized that he was pretty flexible. He'd do whatever you'd want to do, whatever you had in store, as long as if it wasn't too much for either of you. He loves fucking but he surely isn't a sex devient. Somewhere in the middle. Pliant to whatever you to had planned. But recently, he may or may not have discovered a new kink. Somethig that made his legs flex and his stamina increase and the gooey, warm, and fuzzy gears in his head grind back to life to keep on going. The last time you two had sex, there was now no condom, and he was pounding you into the bed that you swore Isaack would definetely send a formally written complain, persuasive enough for the both of you to not have such intense, hot, steamy sex for the next few months, (He's a reporter after all, have to respect the man informing the people, and he definetely has a way with words).
Humming, groaning, a little against your neck. You swore it was like a kitten, as if he was purring in a way. You pulled his hair as per usual and with a louder grunt his dark brown eyes roll up just a slight and flutter, closing shut as he fills you to the brim with his warm baby batter. Shaking, sweating, and biting his lip when he just keeps on cumming until theres nothing more to give. Or is there?
What he didn't expect, was when you suddenly whispered in the midst of him balls deep inside you,
"Thats it... good boy, you fuckin slut... Cum in me, keep milkin' yourself f'me"
Ah shit, he swore something inside of him just snapped loose. With the way he shivered violently, and as your hand loosened on his sweaty brown hair he moves again. Oh how odd, after a few rounds, the last one being penetration, he's always so tired, opting to give you a handjob or finger you if you didnt get a taste of your climax but shit. If this wasn't hot then what was?!
When you had basically degraded him to milk his balls dry you didn't mean literally, but fuck. This was so appealing, that your little milk boy had his quirks.
You look down at yourself seeing the bulge appearing on your abdoment everytime he thrusts in and god does it make you feel dizzy. Your hard dick, leaking as well just begging to cum while Francis gasps and shudders a little more, oh he looks so dumb. Trying to do as he's told. To keep milking himself. Milking himself for you. Just for motherfucking you. It keeps fuzzy sparks inside of his brain that has him smiling and drooling against your chest.
"Awe, what an adorable little cow you are... Milking your-...yourself for me... Giving me every ounce of that sweet sweet milk of yours, hmm? You wanna give me your milk Francis? You wanna fucking cum in me again?"
He feels so lightheaded that he smiles dumbly at the idea and nods as if his head is too heavy, full of warm cream. Muttering several words in russian mixed in with english as he nods slowly, trembling as his cock, still hard and moving perfectly against every spot inside of you.
"Please please please Đ-ĐŃкОНка please... fuck fuckk- let me cum... inside... inside... cum inside please please milk me- oh... Đ-ĐОМаНŃĐšŃŃĐ°... Đ-...ĐОНОŃŃĐľ... ĐОМаНŃĐšŃŃĐ°..."
The pathetic, brown haired man sobs. Pawing at your sides like an injured little puppy. Begging so prettily, who could deny those eyes of his? all teary and tired. Small blobs of salty water dripping down his eyebags which were now disappearing, thanks to yourself for keeping his sleep schedule normal again after years of nap malnutrition.
After a few more moments of Francis groaning so softly against your ear, you feel yourself about to cum too, and when you order it directly, he really does come undone. Panting like a dog in heat while nails dig against his back skin. All the while he buries himself deep inside of you once again and fills you up with a second load of his fluids that it's practically drooling out of your hole. You hiss as well, shutting your eyes with a shudder as your dick spurts out a thick white rope of cum, coating Francis' stomach and your chest. Fuck.
Francis pants, collapsing on you. You gently push him to the side and just watch him catch his breath. Eyes closed, skin warm and sweaty while he's still inside you. All soft. But its not uncomfortable. At least now, you definetely know how you can abuse this new found information with your lovely boyfriend.
#𤯠writes#francis mosses#francis mosses milkman#francis mosses thats not my neighbor#thats not my neighbor#milkman#milkman thats not my neighbor#reader x milkman#milkman x reader#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses x male reader#bottom francis mosses#sub francis mosses#usfw#smut#fic#fiction#tnmn#thats not my neighbor fandom#writing#writers of tumblr#romance#haha lol#doppleganger#Nacho Sama#yessss#x reader#x yn#reader#yn
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This is for the Minotaur x reader x Orc thruple. Imagine reader getting pouty cause her monster boyfriends will slap each others asses for fun just walking past one another. Or your orc boyfriend will literally just spank your Minotaur boyfriend as a form of punishment or for play. But they wonât do it to you cause they are worried to hurt you. So reader starts bratting like crazy for not getting her way and in hopes that they will put her in her place and finally spank her. Minotaur boyfriend sees whats going on and finds it amusing. Orc boyfriend realizes whatâs happening too, and his patience is thinning.
Hey darling, I've been thinking about this ask long and hard and if I should do one more part of the story aviable for everyone, and I'm sad to announce that I'm gonna pass that story to Patreon, BUT, I do love to talk about them and I'm not opposed to do tiny snipets of their lives here, so here we have a tiny snipet of the scene you propose:
[For people who hadn't read the story, heres part 1, part 2 and part 3]
You turn around when you hear a very VERY loud smack behind you. There's a muttered "ouch" and then your minotaur boyfriend is there, rubbing his now sore ass, and your orc boyfriend is smirking in that smug way that drives you fucking insane.
"Why do you ignore my ass?" You ask, they turn around to look at you completely confused. "As in, why don't you smack my ass when I pass by, for example," you explain.
"We..." The orc starts.
"We don't want to hurt you, honey," the minotaur finished for him.
"But I want to." You try not to sound too needy, but you fail.
Your orc boyfriend rises an eyebrow, "Oh? Do you want to be spanked, little human?" He asks, a hint of danger behind his words. You shiver, biting your tongue not to moan.
"We can spank you if that's what you want," your minotaur's boyfriend's tone is a lot more measured, like he's not sure about it. You smile at him, tenderly. He's so soft.
"Yes, please." As soon as the words are out of your mouth, your body is being grabbed and thrown over your orc's shoulder, his hand groping your ass on the way to the bedroom.
#helping neighbors series#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#teratophillia#monster x reader#terato#monster boyfriend#orc#minotaur#orc x minotaur#orc x minotaur x reader#monster polyamory#monsters#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster love#monster lover#monster romance#monster smut#monster x you#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft#txt#txt request
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Good morning everyone, I am ravaged by my curse (impeccable taste and correct opinions about everything)
#my stuff#totally definitely absolutely not losing my mind with lust at the thought of chomping tboy tiddy#Or tummy! whatever i can fit in my gay mouth!!#like yes i want to romance the hell out of you. yes i also wanna push your shirt up and kiss everything it hid from me#and i expect the same gay shit in return!!!#pic is from My Divorced Crybaby Neighbor#it is mid but shots like these really capture my Insanity#trans#t4t
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Theres a reason he looks like he does. Other nightmares helped style him up to bring in more prey and he replied with: "Mmmm. Alright."
#tnmn#thats not my neighbor#tnmn nightmare mode#tnmn spoilers#tnmn yog sothoth#tnmn doorman#anon#tw blood#tw romance novel cover type beat#my art#fan art
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Oh, Mr Mosses (Series) II
Part one can be found here!
https://www.tumblr.com/trulyumai/746978557424812032/oh-mr-mosses-series?source=share
Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being.
Will you be as smitten of him as he is of you? Only time will tell.
Taglist; @tfamidoingwithmylife (Let me know if you want to be added!)
Oh, Mr. Mosses II
âThere you are Ms. Svertchz, have a wonderful day!â The receptionist smiled and through the glass she carefully looked at the woman in front of her. Her nails were so clean, she noticed, they were always gelled, matching whatever premium outfit she had on that day.Â
âYes, you too dear.â Without a glance at the younger woman the resident walked off, the tapping of her heels echoed through the old corridor and finally ceased when the elevator creaked its way down.Â
It had been a week since meeting Francis, and she hadnât really gotten a true impression of the man. He was so quiet, so⌠watchful. Anything she did in front of him she could feel his eyes on her, always staring at her with this thoughtful yet blank expression.Â
He was just shy, she had thought. And if she was to make a move at all, it had to be small enough so that neither of them would be too embarrassed or caught off guard.Â
He was so handsome, he was dressed nicely all the time and his lazy gaze fit his face so well. His nose was a bit hooked and larger than the average, but he made it look rugged, sexy even.Â
With a shake to the head and a glance at the clock she let out a sigh. It was break time.Â
Clouds rolled in, the rain came down soon after and poured down mercilessly. The winds howled along with it and she swore that if it got any stronger, the building would come cascading down. Almost everyone had checked in for the night, everyone except, she eyed the list again; Francis Mosses.Â
With a squeeze to the paper she couldnât help but let out a shaky breath.Â
It was hell waiting to see if the dupe would come through the doors. Recently it had been trickier to spot the fake, they were getting smarter, better.Â
Just the other day she almost let in a double of Ms. Bubbles, if she hadnât noticed the lipstick was maroon instead of its usual raspberry who knows how many bodies would be littering the floor right now. The monster was furious she had caught on, it was so close, so close to being let in and getting its way through the building.Â
A slam startled her out of her thoughts, the doors to the plaza burst open from someone- or something walking inside.Â
The steps were slow, lazy, it had to be-Â
âMmm. Hello.â The milkman smiled, and although it was small, it comforted the receptionist dearly.Â
âHello Francis! The regular forms, please.â Straight to business, then who knows? Maybe ask him about coffee, a bookstore date, anything!Â
Grabbing the papers he slid them over to the entrance, pushing them through with ease.
Turning them over she began her rambling.Â
âHow was your day, Francis? Things have been super slow here.â She mumbled, lining up each number and form.Â
âMm, it was fine. The rain was a bit of a hindrance but it didnât stop me from completing my routes.â God, the way she said his name, he had to stop himself from biting down on his knuckles. Perfect, how could someone be so perfect all the time?Â
He was enamored, obsessed even, with everything she was. It had been a week, sure, but it felt like a lifetime for him.Â
She was distracted, per usual so he could stare at her freely now with no embarrassment to be had. Yet.
Her blouse was simple, a nice pale pink that hugged her in all the right places. And was that, a pencil skirt? Holy hell, this woman would be the death of him.Â
With a glance to her left she looked at the schedule for the hundredth time, Francis' name was indeed there.Â
âEverythingâs clear, sorry for the wait.â She smiled at him then, her perfect teeth molded smoothly around her lips and- did he say she was perfect yet?
âThank you.â Those glossy lips were tantalizing him, that had to be new lipstick, thereâs no way he hadnât noticed that sheen before on those plump, kissable-Â
âAre you okay? You space out a lot,â she laughed.Â
Quickly grabbing his forms he shoved them in his pocket, not bothering to open his wallet once more.Â
He had to leave, the thoughts were getting to him, he felt hot, sweaty and tight in all the wrong places. It was a good thing his uniform came with black pants, otherwise he wouldnât bother to show his face around any longer.Â
âMm, have a good night.â Without a pause he made his way to the elevator, and if it wasn't for the hand that shot out the paper slot he would have made it there.
âWait! Iâm sorry I didnât mean to grab you like that, but um,â his eyes couldnât help but widen, looking down her hand was still around his wrist. So small, so soft.Â
âDo you⌠want to get coffee sometime?â She mumbled, although the rain was heavy and sounded out almost anything, he heard her. Because of course he did. Lifting his other arm, he couldnât help but cover his mouth and cheeks. He rubbed his face, played it off as if he was really thinking it over, like it was a hard answer.Â
âMmm. Sure that sounds good.â And with a light smile he met her eyes. They were shining, full of emotion and if he looked any longer there was no way he was leaving.Â
âWait, really?â She gasped, letting go of his hand quickly and slotting it back to the other side.Â
âMhm, just⌠Iâll come to you, my schedule is quite hectic, you see.âÂ
âNo of course! That sounds great, I'm sorry again for grabbing you,â And she truly looked apologetic, her face was so sympathetic, chin tilted downwards and she looked more like a kicked puppy than anything else.Â
âDonât worry about it, itâs fine,â heâs totally not going to imagine her hands later, gripping his shoulders, neck, trailing them down further and further. Â
âIâll see you soon then!â She pushed her hair back, letting it fall behind her gorgeous neck, collarbones and, what was he saying again?Â
âMm? Yes. Yes Iâll see you soon.â With a little pep to his step he pushed the elevator button.Â
It was then a call rang out, it was the work phone.Â
With a dreamy sigh she imagined him, the date and how perfect it all would be. Maybe they could grab dessert after.Â
âResident desk, employee 29 speaking.âÂ
âHey 29! Great to catch you!â The manager's voice rang through and she sighed, her break was almost up and of course, the most extroverted person had to come talk her ear off.Â
âHello sir, what can I do for you?âÂ
âStraight to the point, you know I love that! You got the schedule for next week, right? Should be in a yellow envelope,â he smacked his teeth on the other end, and she could picture him now with his toothpick and big glasses staring right at her.Â
âYes sir, you told me not to open it until the day of.âÂ
He laughed. âYep yep! Just uh, making sure. So, while I have you I thought I should mention,â shuffling was heard on the other end, like papers were being sorted through and thrown about.Â
âThe D.D.D wanted to make sure all employees know that this month will be more active than ever, and uh, they're sending in new forms to sign, waivers and what not.âÂ
She frowned. Active? What, how, why?Â
Cutting him off she couldnât help but talk fast. âSir? Active? Why are they more active?âÂ
He paused, and she swore she could hear her heartbeat through her ears before he spoke up again.Â
âYeah, yeah, they said it had something to do with the weather? No idea, didnât really bother to ask them you know, itâs hard to hold a conversation with a guy in a hazmat suit.âÂ
He laughed again and she wanted to strangle him, the man couldnât take anything serious.Â
âThatâs all doll, you have a wonderful evening you here?âÂ
âWait, sir-â Click.Â
That bastard, who does he think he is? Who does management think they are? Putting the phone back on the hook she couldnât help but feel tired. Tired from work bullshit, how everyone brushed her off even though she was helping people, saving lives each and every night.Â
The clock chimed, signaling for her shift to be over and she lazily rolled her chair back, getting up while picking at her nails.Â
At least she had the date to look forward to, right?Â
A/N:Â Second chapter done! We are slowly getting to the darker side of things woo! The next chapter will be a big one. I'll be introducing Francisâ mimic and will the receptionist be able to tell which is which? Well see! Let me know if i should implement more smuttier descriptions or content, for now i haven't but that can change! See you lovelies soon, TrulyUmai
#Horror#thats not my neighbor#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses#TNMN!#x reader#slow burn#romance#horror game#game x reader#Francis Mosses x you
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pov: you look out of the peephole in your apartment and see your neighbor and his girlfriend are being weird in the hallway again
#his neighbors are either sick of his shit or deeply invested in this romance#msr#x files#scully#mulder#meme#i made this
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đ: đŞđđđđđđ
(đđđ đđ đľđđđĄâđđđ #2) đŚ˝đđ
âđ˝: đđŽđĽđ˘đ đđŤđ˘đŹđŹ
#crashed#julie kriss#mason brothers#part of a series#tessa hartigan#andrew mason#tessa and andrew#andrew x tessa#stuck together#neighbor romance#meet cute#lust at first sight#grumpy hero#sunshine heroine#friends to lovers#forced proximity#break up to save her#billionaire romance#afraid to commit#books recommendations#new books#libros recomendados#libros#frase libro#smutty books#booklover#book couples#booknerd#couple aesthetic#book aesthetic
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Some silly little ghibli + rain pfps <3
From: Kikiâs Delivery Service, Howlâs Moving Castle, Ponyo, Arrietty, and two from My Neighbour Totoro
#studio ghibli#kikiâs delivery service#howlâs moving castle#ponyo#arrietty#totoro#kikis delivery service#howls moving castle#the borrower arrietty#the secret world of arrietty#my neighbor totoro#my neighbour totoro#anime#screencaps#ghibli#ghibli films#rain#april showers#spring aesthetic#rainy#gloomy#fantasy#romance#slice of life#anime pfp#anime icons#anime profile pictures#anime cover#matching pfps#matching icons
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Beauty and the Beast
art by ilameys
-Part One-
â ď¸: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ⼠Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, double SMUT(CNC and consensual separately =), and monster cock, Shibari
I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi đ
Care for typos!
Francis decided he wanted to take things slow with you. He heard through the grapevine that your encounter with a doppelgänger was more than just a simple attack. He heard that it had violated you. Now you were being moderated by the D.D.D. It wasnât his fault but he still felt bad and used those feelings of guilt to be good to you.
The man was kind enough to take you to the local dress store so that you could pick out something new as a gift from him. You were worried that your incident with the doppelgänger would make you less desirable to Francis. At some point, youâd have to tell him that the creature took the form of him.
âHere, let me.â
You felt the presence of a large man behind you. He tugged the back of your dress, straightening it so that he could zip up the new dress. You couldnât help but blush at the contact. This is the closest the two of you had ever been. Years went by, and you could only meet him at your door or neighborhood events. Now, he was in your dressing room, touching your body.
Waitâtouching your bodyâŚ?
You felt his hand lingering on your back, slowly traveling lower and lowerâŚ
âExcuse me~!â You whipped around to face him. He was as red as a tomato with a surprised look. âYou havenât even gotten me a drink yet!â You joked cutely. It wasnât common for a woman to be forward the way you were, but you often got away with a lot of things because of your pretty privilege.
âS-Sorry, I was just straightening the fabric.â His rather deep voice was quite adorable when he was flushed. Your grin widened. It felt best to help him move things alongâŚjust a bit.
You stepped closer to him, grabbing both of his arms and ushering him to place them on your waist. He obeyed, wrapping his large hands around your midsection and pulling you closer.
âI didnât say I didnât like it.â You brought your bodies close enough to touch. Francis didnât say a word. You could tell that he was rather shy, but he didnât seem to be rejecting you.
You stood on your toes to place a kiss on his lips. His hands traveled from your waist to your ass, lifting you so that you wouldnât need to try as hard to reach him. The contact made you gasp and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.Â
You moaned at how aggressive he was, your voice sending blood rushing to his cock. You immediately felt him grow and his hard dick brushed against your leg. Your thigh touched it, causing him to react even more to the situation.Â
Francis let go of you and broke away from the kiss. âNot here.â He said, quickly remembering that the two of you were in a public dressing room.Â
At first, you were confused but your face quickly lit up when you realized what was about to happen.
The milkman took you by your hand, leading you out of the clothing store and bringing you to his car. You didnât acknowledge it earlier, but he had a newer model. Perhaps, being a milkman paid well.
Just a month ago, you had felt as if you had no chance with this man. You thought that despite being the ideal woman a man desired, you simply werenât his type. It got to a point where you felt as though you were bland. Men were easy to you. Always. When they saw how pretty you were, theyâd easily fold and become easy to read but because everything was so easy, reading a man like Francis was hard.
But here you were, straddling him in the driver's seat of his car. The man was pretty timid but he knew what he wanted and he wanted you.
You ground your pussy on his bulge. You bit your lip and hummed at the sensation. You wanted to look as attractive as possible and your panties quickly became wet. Although he was hungry, he was really gentle. He left wet kisses on your collarbone, going up to your neck and face. His hands tugged at the thin fabric of your dress, threatening to tear it if he were too rough.
Your nipples hardened and you squeezed your eyes shut. Words couldnât describe how happy you were right now. All the pining paid off. But it was just more than sex. The marks and bruises left by Franz were still there and Francis didnât think any less of you. He still loved you all the same. Such traits are rare among men these days.
You felt his hand slip under your dress. His fingers grazed themselves over your damp fabric.
Snap!
âF-Francis?â You ceased your movements and looked him in the eye. Your face was hot with pleasure and embarrassment. He looked somewhat surprised as well. âI-Iâll buy you new ones.â
He used his strength to tear the fabric of your bottoms under your dress. His forwardness took you aback but it turned you on even more. His being quite unsure of himself only added to his attractiveness. It made you want to guide him.Â
âOf course,â You licked your lips. âAnd I want a new pair of shoes as well.â You chirped, happily. Your hands were already resting on his chest. They traveled down and you made the mental note that you hadnât seen him in anything else but his work clothes until todayâŚbut he still decided to wear a white T-shirt. White suited him well.
Your free hand tugged at his trousers. You were ready to finally have him. âAre you sure?â You heard him say with uncertainty but his actions communicated otherwise. He helped you free his cock from his pants. You didnât know why but you thought of Franz and how big he was. You were grateful that Francis has a normal sizeâno, above average size.
His tip was shiny with precum, it was already smeared on the abdomen of your newly purchased dress.
âI am sure.â You reassured him. âIf you want, I can lead.â You offered. You felt him squirm beneath you. How long has it been since he was with a woman?
He shook his head. âNo, itâs fine.â He told you. âI just donât want to mess this up.â His face was as red as a tomato and his eyes were filled with lust. Your face grew warmer. He could be so hot without trying. You eased yourself and allowed him to take control.
You felt Francisâ hand creep up behind your neck while the other subtly slipped up your dress. You didnât even know until you felt his palm and fingers gripping your plump ass cheek. Upon taking you in his hand, he bit his lip, jiggling your ass meekly. His cock pulsated and leaked from the tip due to his actions. You blushed too, your panties getting wet from being touched in such a way.
âF-FrancisâMmmâŚâ His large hand guided you down to his lips, silencing you in the prettiest way. His kisses were short and hurried, it seemed like he was more concerned at feeling you up from the back. In the midst of it all, he pulled and tugged at your bottoms until he was able to pull them to the side. You grabbed his dick and pushed it between your lips. You almost jumped when you felt his warm tip in your folds.Â
âMm!â You tried to pull away but his grasp on the back of your neck wouldnât let you move as freely as you desired. His tongue forced its way inside, exploring the warm, wet cavern that was your mouth. You have no idea how many times heâs imagined doing this to you. A part of Francis thought that this was a dream. One that he didnât want to wake up from.
When Francis pulled away, you saw how his breath hitched. His skin flushed red while he huffed for air because of all the kissing.Â
His hand moved from the back of your neck to your hips. He liked the way you felt on top of him. Your sexes were so close that he could probably slip his dick inside without you even realizing it at first.
â(y/n), let me put it inside.â He muttered, lowly. It almost made you laugh. Was he still asking for consent this far in? What a gentleman. âFranciââ You opened your mouth to speak but his muttering continued.
âPlease, please please, let me put it in. I want to feel you.â
Your abdomen burned with delight. You never thought youâd be able to get Francis of all people to beg to fuck you. Having his attention made you feel sexy.
âOf course, my love.â You smiled attractively before having your pelvis brutally slammed down on his cock. The way he entered you was so perfect. He was just the right size for you.
You began to take part with him, moving your hips on his groin as best as you could. All he could do was moan your name, not caring that at any moment someone could hear him and know exactly what you were doing to him.
âFrancâah!â You pleasured yourself on his cock and you could feel yourself heating up. Your juices mixed, causing the slick to drip from inside of you onto his pelvis. It was so close to getting on his clothes.
âMmm.â You hummed in delight. âJust like that.â
At that moment, it felt like the two of you were perfect for each other. You couldnât believe how reserved he always was with you and it was so much to the point where you didnât even think he liked you. Now, here he was, fucking into you like a dog in heat, moaning your name like the two of you werenât still in public. The riskiness made things so much better!
âFuck, Iâm gonna c-cum, sweetheart!â His voice was so delightful! The way he squirmed underneath you was so satisfying.
âGo on then~ Cum for me.â You leaned forward so that your torsos touched. Your nose brushed his and his warm breath hit your face. âJust make sure to pullââ
A rush of his liquid filled you up and painted your walls.
Out.
In one large motion, Francis slammed into you, forcing you to stay on his cock whether you wanted to or not. A warm feeling filled your hole so much that it leaked from your womb, down his shaft, and onto both of your clothes. It made you climax as well. You rode your high and tried to push yourself off of him to get him to pull out but your legs were too weak from the sexual activity.
The next few minutes that followed were awkward, to say the least.
You were sitting in the passenger seat of his car again, feeling the leftover cum pooling inside of your panties. You hadnât spoken a word since the two of you finished but you could tell that Francis was getting a bit antsy.
You had occupied yourself by looking out the window as he drove. Through the reflection, you could see him glance at you from time to time as if he wanted to speak but was too nervous to.Â
The two of you were almost at your apartment when he finally gained the courage to address the elephant in the room.
âI-Iâm sorry for, uh, finishing inside of you like that.â He muttered quickly. You raise your hands slightly. âOh no! It was just a heat of the moment thing, I understandââ
âIf you get p-pregnant, you know, I can provide for youâŚâ
Your heart clenched. Youâd hate for your motherhood to begin because of some split-second decision to have sex but youâve been pining after Francis for the better part of a few years.Â
The car came to a slow and what awaited to the side of you was your apartment complex. You only blinked, a delayed response just on the tip of your tongue. How would you be able to tell him that you could already be pregnant�
ââŚIâd like that very much.â A subtle blush warmed your cheeks. Your brain made you feel better by imagining what it would be like to start a family with him. He was a father of one already so he should be familiar with being a husband and parent.
Your expression caused him to blush as well. You felt like a teenager again, doing risky things like sex in a car with your long-time crush.Â
Francis informed you that he had planned to take his daughter and some of her friends from school to the carnival. You wished that you couldâve accompanied him but it mightâve been too awkward with the daughter of his ex-wife.
Upon exchanging a kiss goodbye, you exited his vehicle and went to check yourself in so that you could rest. The new attendant was a young man that you hadnât seen before. He seems to enjoy his job regardless. You submitted your paperwork and you were quickly identified as the real deal.
It wasnât the first time but you couldnât help but get the looming feeling of being watched every time you had gotten to your door. When you reach for your doorknob, you can still feel the huge figure of Franz standing behind you. It was like you were still experiencing that horrible tragedyâŚ
Even if it felt good.
You mentioned it to your therapist immediately and she just told you that the trauma would linger a while longer since it was so fresh.
You entered your home, quickly making your way to your room to change out of your clothing and freshen up in the bathroom. Post-sex self-care is extremely crucial for a high-value woman like yourself. There was nothing you could do if you were pregnant but cleaning up did make you feel better.
Now, all that was left was to cook yourself dinner and begin planning your next week with Francis.
Yet, those thoughts of happiness left your mind when you caught a glimpse of red in your peripheral vision. You hadnât noticed it when you came in but now it was painfully obvious that something was terribly wrong.
As you began to approach the doorway that led to your kitchen, you ended up slipping on something wet. The force pulled your legs from under you, causing you to fall on your bottom but before you could actually hit the groundâyou were caught.
When you registered what was going on, you saw that your savior had glowing eyes, pale skin, and brown hair. His white attire was covered in a very red substance that made you fall. The irony crimson coated your legs and bare feet. The figure before you was now smearing it on your clothes as well.
âF-FranzâŚ!?â
Your eyes darted downward. His free hand was the one that was able to catch you, it was large and cradled your bottom. But in his other hand was one of your kitchen knives. It dripped with blood and it was fresh too.Â
Behind him, you caught a glimpse of what he was doing. Your refrigerator was wide open with a trail of blood leading from underneath you to whatever it was that he put inside.Â
Memories fill your mind of the past, sending you into panic mode. How did he get inside? How has he not been caught? Was he going to ravage you again?
âWh-What are you doing? Why are you h-here?â You could already feel your eyes welling up with tears at the sight of him. He was already terrifying but in both encounters with him, he killed someone.
âI live here now.â
The knife dropped to the ground with a loud metallic tone and you felt his bloodied hand grip the back of your head. âWhere have you been?â
The creature took a deep whiff of your hair. It enjoyed the natural scent of you, even catching a bit of your slick that you washed away. It was faint but still there. Your vaginal juice was so potent that it would know it anywhere.Â
âIâŚâ Your voice cracked before you could get out another word. You werenât ready.Â
ââŚI-I just went outââ
âWhere?â
âIt was a local dress shopâŚâ
His strong body enveloped you, picking you up from the spot where you were hovering above the floor. In his arms, he held you as if you were a princess, cradling you by the back of your knees and lower back.
Franz took you away from the kitchen before you could see what he was up to.
âWith who? And donât lie.â
Your eyes went from left to right. âWhat reason would I have to lie?â You secured your arms around his neck, coyly playing along for the sake of your safety. He might act like he wants you but he is still an it, a Dopple.
âI know what you look like when you lie. Iâve studied you. I can become you...â The corner of his mouth raised into a smirk. ââŚbut I like the taste of you better.â
Your cheeks warmed at his perverseness. You werenât used to such a handsome man acting this way towards you. It was always the men with no self-care or dignity that would catcall you in the evenings but never someone soâŚattractive. Would it be wrong to say you felt that wanted?Â
Could you make Franz behave like a normal man�
âI wasâŚwith a friend.â You answered somewhat nervously, your mind instantly going to your time with Francis. Your pupils shifted and your mouth instinctively curled into a smile. Franz didnât seem to catch that you were lying. Perhaps, he was bluffing as well to get you to tell the truth. He was somewhat aware of the effect he had on you.
âHm.â You felt his chest rumble with a hum. He took you to your bedroom where he placed you on your bed.
You gripped the sheets with anticipation. Meeting like this was so odd. He was covered in blood and it made you even more frightened that he refused to elaborate on what he was up to exactly. âJust a friend?â He repeated, leaving the room for only a moment. He didnât go far as his steps didnât fade at all. This was the first time youâve ever felt unsafe in your own home like this.
Moments later, he returned, a thick rope in hand. On his face was a dark look that you recognized all too well, so much so that it triggered your memories of the day he ravaged you.Â
âWh-Whatâs that for?â You questioned.
âYou.â He replied.Â
You blinked. âMe? Whatââ
âI donât believe you.âÂ
The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Then he began to get closer. He was planning to tie you up in your room forever, wasnât he?
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
His half-smirk turned into a cold line and silent anger washed over his features. His lifeless eyes were fixated on your smaller form, clinging to the bedsheets like a scared little girl. âYou see, I donât believe you.â He answered. You bit your lip in anticipation and fell silent. You thought heâd be gone for good so you were completely unprepared for today. You let him continue as it looked like he had more to say.Â
â...thereâs this thing you do when you lie. You donât even know that you do it, but I know it.â He grew closer like a predator stalking its prey. The bed sank from the weight of him climbing onto it with you. âAnd, I can smell him all over you!â His large hand grabbed the back of your head with a fist full of your hair. You cried out as he jerked you around like a ragdoll into whichever position he pleased.
No matter how hard you fought against him, he never budged and you couldnât stop him from tying the thick rope around your neck and limbs. You struggled, thinking that he was chaining you to your bed but that didnât seem to be it. His hands bloodied various parts of you. The clothes you just had on before he tore them off of you, more of your hair along with your arms, hips, and ass cheeks.Â
Your arms were tied behind your back and your legs together so that you could no longer push him away or run. âF-Franz, come onââ
âShut up!â Franz snarled, silencing you with a loud smack to your ass. It wouldâve hurt if it didnât feel so right. You felt your head being pushed into the mattress as a warm, thick, fleshy, hard object rubbed itself between your thighs. The contact made of his pulsating shaft was soon slick in your juices. Its potent smell of femininity made him feel like he wouldnât be able to control himself any longer.
His mouth attached to your behind, right between your cheeks. The wet muscle of his tongue went between your folds before entering your pussy.
âFranz please!â But your cries only fueled his need for your fluids. His slimy monstrous explored your innards, consuming any juices you made just as they produced. The pleasure and roughness were too much. You tried to inch away but it was like his mouth was attached to your backside.Â
You could tell that he was really into it. He kneaded and fondled your ass to his liking, making sure you felt good to maximize the amount of vaginal fluid that could be made. Like an animal, his salvation dripped and wet the bed and his calloused fingers dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks.Â
The overstimulation caused you to reach your high so quickly. Before you could even warn him, you squirted all over his face and lips. His growling intensified like he couldnât get enough, slurping all of your juices. When he was done, he didnât bother to wipe his mouth. He grabbed the decorative rope that kept you restrained for a sloppy kiss.
âSo good.â He muttered on your lips before using his strength to push you on your side. âP-Please, Franz, not so hard this timeâŚâ You sputtered out. Your legs were numb from pleasure so all of the movement from this point on was up to you. âDonât tell me what to do.â His dick slid in between your closed thighs. He gave it a few thrusts before moving to your hole slick with his saliva.
Slowly but surely he pushed himself inside. He relished in the sound of your cries as you struggled to take his size and length, proud that he could say he was the biggest youâll ever have. No human man could match him in any way, shape, or form. Every stroke sent butterflies to your stomach. The noise filled the hallway outside of your home and you were sure that your neighbors could hear. You felt so embarrassed that you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to endure until it felt like he finished.
But it felt like it went on forever. The inside of your pussy was sloshy and constantly leaking onto the bed but Franz didnât want to let up. His beautiful body was glistening with sweat after he had removed his top half through his session. His cum shot into your womb and he slumped on top of you.
The sweat, juices, and remnants of blood made you feel icky. You were still tied up and couldnât move.
âFranz.â You called.
âFranz.â
No answer.
You nudged him a bit. You needed to get cleaned up. Everything was leaking from your holes and your face was a mess from the crying and kissing. âI need to go to the bathroom.â You whined, wiggling beneath him. He was so big and heavy.
Without a word, he rose to free you from the Shibari rope. Once again, your whole body was sore despite being the bottom from how relentlessly he was. You were surprised that he seemed to be somewhat experienced with aftercare. Last time, he left so abruptly, that you felt like he wouldâve left you there.
But today was different. He carried you to the bathroom when you needed to go. He helped you clean up and put on some fresh clothes. It saddened you that the new dress Francis got you was now soiled withâŚeverything. But life goes on. Perhaps, you could salvage what was left of the dress. You could hand wash it and use your skill in sewing to repair anything else if needed. You just didnât know how youâd break the news to Francis that the gift he got you on your date was ruined at the hands of another man sucking and fucking your holes.Â
Franz seemed to exert himself. He was sprawled out on your bed while you just stood there, wondering what was supposed to happen now. You decided to finally go look at what he had been doing in the kitchen all along.
The crimson smell hit your nose again as you approached the dark room. You hit the light to see that gore covered every inch of your kitchen. A trail of blood that started from your doorway led to the fridge where Franz had been standing when you walked in on him.
You investigated further to see that inside was a man you had never seen before, freshly murdered and stuffed into the back. âOh myâ!â You covered your mouth in a desperate attempt to prevent yourself from vomiting at the sight.
In a fit of anger, you stormed to your bedroom where Franz was still sleeping to confront him about it.Â
âExcuse me!â
He didnât budge.
âFranz!âÂ
Your foot made contact with his side, knocking you off of your own feet and stumbling to keep balance. He was like a rock.
âI saw what you did in my kitchen. Who was that?! Why did you do that?!â Your soft voice firmed and wavered with emotion. You finally got him to respond but it was a mumble and the only things you could make out were âsome guy.â And âhungry.âÂ
âI canât house you if youâre bringing bodies into my home.â You told him. âTheyâve installed new cameras since last time when you first showed up. What am I supposed to say when the D.D.D. comes to investigate?â
âThey wonât come.â
âThey will.â You pressed on. âIâve been getting watched ever since youââ
âThe D.D.D. wonât come because that rat was already stowed away when I got here. I did you a favor.â He then turned over so that you could only see his back. âHe wants to be me so bad.â
âWh-whatâŚ?â You blinked. âSomeone was in my house while I was away? Doing what?â
And then he dozed off to sleep. He no longer reacted to your calls and kicks to the side. He didnât wake. He didnât budge.Â
Taglist: @crybabies-hearts @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2 @luciledreamz
There were so many ppl who wanted to be tagged that I lost track so I really hope you guys find this! Thanks for being patient with me.
#that's not my neighbor#thats not my neighbor#francis mosses#Francis Mosses x reader#Milk Man#Milk man x reader#Yandere Milk Man x Reader#Yandere francis mosses#tnmn#doppleganger#dark romance
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I feel like KĂśnig can absolutely melt your heart like this in the kitchen while a big pot of stew is simmering. Feel like it would be mid winter, a cozy fire going in the living room, probably a smudge of paint on his face from having just completed the miniature diorama he made of your wedding day or something. I JUST FEEL LIKE HES SECRETLY A HOPELESS ROMANTIC
https://www.facebook.com/share/r/CZRSbWa5D1b2ryCA/?mibextid=uSdriS
(If you don't want to click the link, it's cool. It's like a really slow beautiful old timey princess kind of dance. Lots of twirling and the holding hands behind your back kind of thing?)
I'm sorry I'm bursting yet another bubble here đ while that's a sweet thought and he has plenty of romantic actions to boot, he's not a hopeless romantic or even close to it.
A hopeless romantic is someone who believes in love conquering all and they have an idealistic view of it. They're someone who believes in love, no matter what they've seen or their past. They're someone who holds onto love above all and usually centers their life around it.
He doesn't even come close. Truth be told, he's extremely pessimistic and is near the polar opposite of that đ
He's seen a lot, experienced a lot, and has never been one to feel that way. After being ruthlessly bullied as a kid for simply existing as himself and seeing his comrades torn into meat confetti for stepping one foot too far, he's doesn't exactly have a pearly world view. He doesn't think about love first, or second, or even third, fourth, or fifth. Love wasn't a focus for him or an interest - it wasn't a necessity in that department, he's been without romantic love most of his life, why would he need it then or now?
Love didn't stop bullets from spiraling towards you on the field, love can't conquer all when things like hate, retribution, and vengeance are sung much stronger in his world. Love could motivate but it destroyed many from the inside out. He wasn't going to start believing in love or wanting it just cause.
Sure, he had familial love. He loves his parents and that did wonders in a world that was usually otherwise cruel towards him. But romantic? He wasn't ever particularly interested. To him, it's usually yet another complication in the line of things. And anyone who is nice to him, he's usually suspicious of. He doesn't let people close for a reason.
Quite frankly, he usually thinks others have ulterior motives, especially if they're trying to cozy up to him. All his life, he's pretty much been an outcast. People tended to only be nice when they wanted something. He can count on one hand the few people who have genuinely been nice to him without WANTING something from him, whether that be his perks with his rank or just to have him as a human shield as they charge into battle.
He was the awkward kid, the loner, the one no one talked to in school. He never had a romantic life there. And he went straight to the military which left him no time or room for one - not that he cared for it. It's just not something he cared for or went after because he hadn't really experienced it and it wouldn't do him any good. He's seen how many marriages end and heard of all the troubles.
He was never actively looking for it or thinking of love. He wasn't seeking it because he's seen how miserable people are in and out of it. He's very much "if it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, I'm happy with being me." KĂśnig is a very independent man, he's fine on his own and is content with himself and where he stands.
I actually wouldn't describe him as any kind of romantic aside from unintentional because it's not a conscious thought! He's not doing it to woo or impress or to be a big gesture, he's just doing it because he likes you and wants to see you happy. What he does isn't born out of romance or desire or the want for either - it's just from the heart. It's an instinct.
He's not thinking of how romantic it would be as he plants your favorite flowers in his garden. He's growing them because he wants to see you happy and wants to put more of what you like in the world. He stocks your favorite drinks and snacks in his house because he wants you over - he wants you happy, comfortable, and enjoying his company. His actions are how he shows how he feels, but he's also not actively doing it because he's enamored with love itself or loving and how it feels. He doesn't care about the idea of love in particular, but he cares about you and what he feels for you.
He isn't making a diorama of the wedding because it's a romantic gesture, he's doing it because it captured how you both felt that day - and how truly beautiful you were in that moment, outshining the stars that danced above that night. He's memorializing his love in every brushstroke and clay flower, making sure to take extra care on the model he built of you. If he could relive any day over and over, it would be that. Sadly, he doesn't have that power, so he'll stick for the photos that captured it and the replicas he could make to truly memorialize it in the physical realm for years to come.
KĂśnig's love isn't flashy, it isn't showy, it isn't meant to be something grand or fairytale levels of romance. It's simply his. Will he make you a ballgown if you wanted? Absolutely, but he's no prince, nor a king despite his name. Will he dance with you like that if you wanted? Absolutely. But that's not his first thought or a fantasy he really thinks of unless you implement it in his head. He's just him, living in the smaller moments of life. He doesn't need to show off to the world, he doesn't need it to be extravagant or formal, he doesn't need it to be by the books romantic - all of what he does is heartfelt, that's what he knows matters. And it has to be with and for you đ that's what matters the most
He's more one for holding you close and slow dancing in the kitchen as the water in the kettle boils, with no rush to be anywhere else. He's not hopelessly romantic, he's not even intentionally romantic, the only thing he's hopelessly in is love đ
Besides, he's gotta save some moves for the wedding to make it that much more special đ(he's signing you both up for ballroom dancing the second you express wanting anything like that. He's already picking out the fabric for the dress too)
#cod#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod modern warfare#konig x reader#konig cod#konig x you#konig call of duty#konig headcanons#kĂśnig headcanons#kĂśnig x reader#kĂśnig cod#kĂśnig call of duty#kĂśnig#gender neutral reader#reader insert#neighbor! KĂśnig#he doesn't do it intentionally he just thinks about it. he happens to be rather considerate and attentive#sorry but he just isn't one to think about love or romance or do grand gestures like pull out a bouquet of dozens of roses#he'll instead pull out one of your favorite flowers that he grew himself#his thing is more so depth of emotion and expressing himself rather than simply aiming to be romantic or trying to be#he's just showing that he loves you and appreciates you! his words don't always say it so his actions will#he also didn't have romantic love for like... forever#and his experiences with it have been awful so romance is usually a no-go for him#he also thinks a lot of time modern romance is disingenuous and is built on showmanship over actual love and care so he isn't a fan#he's a downer with relationships when he sees them as he knows most won't work out#that's part of why he's so careful in knowing you before he commits to anything and WHY he's trying his best here
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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]
in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!
á° pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)
á° summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.
á° genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s
á° warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!
á° chapter. 1/x (probably 10)
á° words. 7.8k
a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33
nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)
Love thy neighbor.
Cherish thy neighbor.
Tolerate thy neighbor.
Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor.Â
Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.
Itâs murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.
Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that youâd leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. Itâs the punishment heâd deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.
âSATORU!!!â you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighborâs house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just donât care. Anger is all you can see right now.
Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. Youâre pretty sure thereâs steam coming out of your ears. âUh, do you mind? Iâm trying to wash my car.â
âHow many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!â you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.
âHm?â he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. âOh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? Itâs not even parked in front of your driveway.â
âYes. It is. Are you blind? I canât move my car into my garage, hence why itâs running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boatâs on my property.â
âNo, itâs not.â
âYes. It is.â
âNuh-uh.â
âUh. Yuh-huh.â
âHoney. Iâm a real estate agent. You donât think Iâd know where my own property line starts and ends?â
âPark. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.â
âI spent a lot of money on that boat,â he sighs, âI intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isnât more than enough room for your tiny prius. Itâs not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and donât know how to pull into a driveway,â he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, âOh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, thatâs funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,â he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, âmy niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. Itâs her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.â
âOh, right,â you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, âI forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he canât rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.â
He stares at you. âOh.â
âYeah.â
âDamn.â
âMm.â
He shrugs. âThatâs fine, thanks anyway,â he swipes up on his phone, âthey had crazy hair day at my nieceâs elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?â
âSure.â
He turns his phone to show you. âMy sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldnât stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.â
âAww,â you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, âI think it suits her. Thatâs a lot of glitter though, yâknow that stuffâs really bad for the environment.â
âYeah,â he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, âanyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.â
âIâm gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.â
âHold on one sec,â he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then youâre glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. âI gotta take this.â
âWhaââ you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.
âHi, Donna!â he exclaims into his phone, âso good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. Iâm just washing my car. Nah, youâre not interrupting anything.â
The urge to smack him consumes you.
âOh okay, cool, Iâm glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if youâre still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, whatâs that? Oh,â he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, âyeah, thatâs fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, Iâll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommyâs soccer game yesterday?...Aw, thatâs okay, heâll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, whatâs up? Oh, you know that Iâd love to, and thereâs no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but Iâm actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.â He presses the end call on his phone, and thereâs an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.
âOh fuck,â he places a hand on his chest and exhales, âI didnât know you were still standing there.â
âIâm seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.âÂ
âThat gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?â he points at your hand, âyouâd have blood on your hands. Iâd be dead.â
âYeah, thatâs the goal, idiot.â
âYouâre so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmerâs. How do you sleep at night?â
âWith fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.â
â...that didnât make you sound like any less of a serial killer.â
âWhatever, at least I donât have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isnât any better than prostitution, right?âÂ
âOkay. Now I have to hear where youâre going with this.â
You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. âYou flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that theyâd buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,â and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, ââitâs okay Lorraine. If youâre still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.ââ
âYeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.âÂ
âO-Oh,â you stutter, but stand up straighter, âdoesnât matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.â
âSo what if I do? Iâm hot, why wouldnât I take advantage of that? You couldâve done the same thing too, but you didnât, and now youâre stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.â
âYouâre the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.â
He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driverâs side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.
âW-Where are you going?â you ask.
âIâm gonna park your car in your garage for you,â he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows youâre about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before heâs able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.
âWaitâ I didnât give you permission toââ you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because youâre scared heâs gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.
When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. âYou almost flattened me over my own driveway.â
âWell, you shouldnât have been standing there,â he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. âAlso, case proven, thereâs more than enough space to pull your car in. Youâre just piss poor at parking.â
âI swear to fucking god. If youâre ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isnât going to be the thing that kills you, itâs gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And Iâll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.â
His brow furrows and he frowns, but itâs in that sarcastic way that tells you heâs not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, âIâve got Kaiser, hun,â he says, âI wouldnât go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.â
âHow is it youâre stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?â
âStop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,â he hisses at you, âespecially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think Iâm a creep.â He pretends to shiver.
âBut itâs true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.â
His eyes widen. âDamn. Howâd you know.â
âThat youâre a victim?â you ask, tone derisive, âyour entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.â
He rolls his eyes. âI was never groomed, and I didnât lose my virginity to an elderly woman,â he corrects you, â...although said woman was a little older than me.â
âIâve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,â you practically spat at him, âthe last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.â You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now youâre doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.
âGood night,â he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.
Ah. Silence.
But it was never a comfortable one.Â
âMom?â you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You donât see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but sheâs not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and sheâs so still she could be a statue.
âHey,â you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. âIâm home.â
She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. âWhy are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?â she asks you, âhe helped me fix the air conditioning last week.â
Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. âIâm pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.âÂ
She doesnât respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like sheâs trying to make sense of what she sees.Â
âMom,â you gently tug her sleeve, âI think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.â
She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. âMom?â she repeats after you, âwhy are you calling me âmomâ? Who are you?â
Your blood runs cold from her words, but you donât have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But itâs cruel that sheâll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. âIâm your daughter,â you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, âI know that might be a little weird to hear right now.â
âNoâŚâ she says, âI think that makes sense. Iâm sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.â She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. âMy daughter, yes. You lookâŚoh, dear, you look like you should sleep.â
You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. âYes. You too, mom.â
You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your momâs hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, sheâs ready to take a small nap and you know that youâve earned some sleep now too.
The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though youâve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. Youâre a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, youâre not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever.Â
Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just canât bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since youâll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but itâs okay. Itâs cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.
â
âYouâre looking better,â Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, âwere you able to get a good rest?â
Your mother nods and points to you. âMy daughter made me take a nap.â
âThatâs good,â he coos, âitâs good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.â
âI know,â your mother smiles up at you, âIâm so lucky.â You return her smile with one of your own.
Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your motherâs port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag.Â
âReady for consult?â he asks you.
You grip your binder to your chest. âYeah.â
You walk into the doctorâs office, one youâve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnsonâs desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your motherâs recent lab work.
âHer tumor markers are rising,â you say as you sift through the papers.
âThey are, weâll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But itâs okay, not to worry,â he says, âtumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.â
âShe had a cold last week,â you say, âmaybe itâs the inflammation?â
Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. âIâm sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget youâre a nurse.â He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. âWhen was your motherâs last PET/CT scan?â
âIt was in February,â you say, âsheâs due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.â
âYes, I will, Iâll do it right now,â he says as he types something into the computer. âYou still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?â
âNo, thatâs okay, I got them already. Good for six months,â you reassure him.
âAlright, perfect.â
Thereâs an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your motherâs medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.
âItâs good she remembers you today,â Dr. Johnson comments, âI remember last week you were upset she didnât.â
âOh,â you say, âyeah, Iâm sorry. Sometimes itâs hard.â
His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. âAre you doing alright?â
You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. âIâm fine, thanks,â you say, âum, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that Iâve been keeping track of my momâs Alzheimerâs progression.â You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesnât really spare a proper enough look. âIâve just been noticing sheâs progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.â
âOkay,â he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, youâre a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And itâs for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.
âI was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?â you ask, âjust to rule out anythingâŚher brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and Iâm just really worried about metastasis, especially if itâs a glioma, Iâd just want to catch it as soon as possible.â
You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting whatâs best for their loved one? You donât think thatâs an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long youâve been practicing medicine.Â
He sighs. âThereâs no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. Iâd suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Letâs not get ahead of ourselves, okay?â
âI know,â you say, âbut her next scan isnât for another couple weeks, plus the week itâll take to have it read, itâll be far out, soâŚif we could just order it now?â
He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork youâve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes youâve been taking of your momâs responses to her Alzheimerâs treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. âAlright. Fine, Iâll order one. I highly doubt weâll find anything, though. But since thereâs no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,â he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, âI donât think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.â
âThatâs okay,â you quickly respond, âIâll pay for it.âÂ
You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her itâs okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.
â
âGod damn,â you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. âItâs like being hot is a part of their job requirement.â
âUh-huh,â you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.
4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded âsuck on this, bitchâ, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of ptâs behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor
âHowâs your mom doing?â Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.
âSheâs okay,â you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, âshe has a PET/CT soon. Itâs always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.â
âHave you given hospice any more thought?â she asks.
You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. Itâs becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctorâs appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you canât even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you canât remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. Youâre not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact youâre still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare.Â
âI did,â you say, âIâve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than Iâd like.â You glance down at your keyboard. âIâŚIâm going to miss having my mom home. Even though itâs hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.â
âAw, my dear,â Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, âIâm sure youâd love to have her home, but I think itâs becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I canât remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.â
Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didnât even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.
âItâs too much for just one person,â she continues, âwhile I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time youâre spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where youâre not worrying about her medication schedule or doctorâs appointments or blood draws and all that.â
You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. âThanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. IâŚI think Iâll look more seriously into hospices. Itâs just theyâre really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.â
âHmm,â she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. âYâknow, thereâs this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friendâs mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,â she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, âI think itâs only a fifteen minute drive from your house.â
You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didnât come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. âItâs probably really expensive. My momâs under the state insurance right now, but Iâve explored government insurance plans too and theyâre still really pricey. I just canât afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isnât really going to be any better either.â
She groans. âI know. Whatâs with our healthcare plan? Youâd think as a hospital, theyâd choose better plans for their employees,â she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, âbut my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. Iâm sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.â
You blink at her. âReally? T-Thatâs insaneâŚdo you know what insurance her husband has?â
âIâm pretty sure itâs a Kaiser facility.â
âOh,â you sigh, âwell, they wouldnât accept state insurance. Thatâs a private HMO.â
âShoot,â Hana looks at you apologetically, âIâm so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.â
âThatâs okay,â you smile at her, âthanks for trying. Iâm glad it worked out for your friend, at least.â
Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and youâre left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.
Hmm.
Kaiser.
You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.
Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, youâre pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you canât remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser.Â
Nope. Nothing.
Oh well, maybe itâll hit you later.
â
It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (donât ask).Â
Kaiser.
Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance.Â
And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure youâre still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that youâre not. And the idea still persists. And now youâre swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists.Â
And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? Itâll be fine.
But you can only hope he says yes.
.
.
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[reading commercial break]
hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand readerâs desperation to financially cover the costs of her motherâs healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:
âWhere America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.â p360; â...America spends more on health care than any other nationâtwo and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earnâ$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogetherâis spent on health care.â p359
unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.
but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand readerâs desperation to save a buck!!!Â
ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! đ§ââď¸đâ¨
[end of reading commercial break]
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â
Youâre sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because youâre unable to alleviate any of the anxiety youâre experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then youâre a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.
You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.
âHey,â he greets you.
âHi,â you say with a small wave.
He takes a seat across from you. âWhat did you want to talk about?â he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. Heâs not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. âAnd if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, Iâm just gonna say no again. I didnât even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.â
âItâs a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that youâre being a stuck-up prick about it?â
âYou know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?â
âWhaââ you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter â...those two-faced bitchesâ under your breath.
âSo,â he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, âwhat did you want? Iâve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.â He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.
âOh. Right. Just a favor,â you say, âI was wondering if you could marry me.â
He almost spits out his coffee.
âE-Excuse me?â he croaks out, exasperated, and heâs coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.
âI mean, if itâs not an issue, Iâd really appreciate it if you could marry me,â you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably shouldâve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now youâre too deep to backtrack, so you just hope youâll find the conversation along the way.
Heâs looking at you like youâve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you donât understand why youâre already seethingly angry about what heâs going to say next.
âOh god,â he sighs, âI knew this day would come.â
âHuh?â you squeak out.
âListen,â he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, âI know that Iâm very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armorââ
âSatoru.â
ââand yes, Iâve seen the way you look at me,â he dramatically sighs, âwhen Iâm taking the groceries up the drivewayâŚwhen Iâm out mowing the lawnâŚwhen I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like Iâm a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimesââ
âWhat the fuck are you talking about???â
âBut I get it. Really, I do. Thereâs no need to be embarrassed about itââ
âIâm not embarââ
âIt was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.âÂ
âOh my god, what the fuck are you sayingââ
âBut,â he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, âmy answer is no. I mean, I shouldnât have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why arenât you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you wouldâve known Iâd have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Yâknow, private, but also where my familyâs somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beachââ
âCan you stop talkinââ
ââwhile the sun is setting, and Iâm wearing a nice dress, and thereâs bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored youâve always been of me, and how you canât wait to spend the rest of your life with me,â he indulgently sighs, âI mean, itâs every guyâs dream. But nooooo, of course youâve got no taste or sense for romance in any capacââ
âOH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,â you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, âI cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.â Youâre about to walk away from the table, because youâre realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you canât stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and youâre not sure if heâs ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.
âWait,â he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, âyouâre being serious?â
You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. âWhy would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasnât being serious?â
He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. âUh, to fuck with me?â
Youâre still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it mightâve sounded insane on his end, and youâre also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.
âJust sit,â he sighs.
You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. âIâŚIâm being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think youâre some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?â
âIââ
âRhetorical question, shut it.â
He blinks at you. âWhat favor are you asking for thatâll be satisfied by me marrying you?â
You twiddle with your thumbs. âI want to put my mom in hospice,â you say, eyes flickering down slightly because youâre worried youâre about to tear up from the words, but when you realize youâve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, âmost of the hospices in town are further away than Iâd like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearbyâŚand that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and Iâd know sheâs being taken care of. AndâŚâ you clear your throat, âwell, itâll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up onâŚwell, whatever, you get the picture.â
His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. âIâm not sure if you can add aâŚspouseâs parent to a healthcare plan?â
âYou can,â you say, âI already called to ask.â
âOh.â
âMhm.â
Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like heâs running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when heâs made a decision.
âSure, Iâll do it,â he says.
âY-You will?â you ask him. Youâre uneasy at how easy it was to convince.
âYeah. I like your mom. Sheâs a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.â
His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like youâd usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but youâre still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week.Â
âReally?â you make sure, almost like youâre hoping heâll change his mind because now youâre suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize heâs already making you paranoid.
âYeah. Iâm saying yes to your proposal, y/n,â he says, âI mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. Iâd want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case youâre a gold digger.â
You roll your eyes. âYouâre too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think Iâd believe youâve got any gold to dig?â
He sighs. âI said in case.â
âWell, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,â you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.
He raises an eyebrow at you. âUm. Youâre going to make me shake your hand over this?â
âYeah,â you shrug, âitâs the diplomatic thing to do.â
âYes,â he says, âfor a diplomatic agreement.â
âPrecisely,â you say. âThatâs exactly what this is.â
He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. âNevermind. I donât want to touch you.â
âOkay,â he easily accepts, ânot how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, whenâs the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?â
âJust be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.â
âWhat?! This weekend? Thatâs too soon,â he panics, âI need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, andââ
âSatoru. Seriously. Justâ...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that youâve already given me gets worse.â
You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just stare off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision youâve ever made. But thatâs how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesnât piss you off.
âSo,â he interrupts your thoughts, âare you gonna take my last name?â
âFuck no, Iâd rather die.â
âAlright, jeez, I was just asking.â
.
.
.
[end of chapter 1]
a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane đ
⸠take me to chapter two!
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