If you want to push it back even further Margaret Cavendish, the duchess of Newcastle (1623-1673) wrote The Blazing World in 1666, about a young woman who discovers a Utopian world that can only be accessed via the North Pole - oft credited as one of the first scifi novels
Women have always been at the forefront of literature, the first novel (what we would consider a novel in modern terms) was written by a woman (Lady Muraskai’s the Tale of Genji in the early 1000s) take your snide “Isaac Asimov” reblogs and stick it
even in terms of male scifi authors, asimov was predated by Jules Verne, HG Wells, George Orwell, you could have even cited Poe or Jonathan Swift has a case but Asimov?
PbbBFFTTBBBTBTTBBTBTTT so desperate to discredit the idea of Mary Shelly as the mother of modern science fiction you didn’t even do a frickin google search For Shame
Kinda funny, considering this Isaac Asimov quote on the subject:
Mary Shelley was the first to make use of a new finding of science which she advanced further to a logical extreme, and it is that which makes Frankenstein the first true science fiction story.
You know what else was invented by women? Masked vigilantes, the precursor to the modern superhero. Baroness Emma Orczy wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel in 1905. The character would later inspire better known masked vigilantes such as Zorro and Batman.
the first extended prose piece - ie a novel, was not, as many male scholars will shout, Don Quixote (1605) but The Tale of Genji (1008) written by a woman
hank 0/the 6th hank is actually a girl and her legal name is hannah (per your pleas and the fact that numbers aren't allowed on birth certificate), but most of the time the hanks call her junior or sixter (the old nickname they had for hank 6... and mint with pink accents was hank 6's jumpsuit color :<) or mini five.
after the hanks are realized into humans, 'hanks' becomes their shared last name and each hank takes an unique first name for their legal documents: andre for hank 1, will/william for hank 2 (after william shakespeare), tyler for hank 3 (he wanted to be mcjagger, though), kevin for hank 4 (duh), and miguel for hank 5.
the kids produced after hannah/hank 0 are hanks 8 and beyond because you're the 7th hank canonically (after their proposal on the moon).
each hanks-fathered kid gets a signature jumpsuit/color palette, usually similar to their dad's (minus hank 0/6 aka hannah, who inherits the late hank 6's colors of mint).
since polyamorous marriages aren't allowed in the USA, the hanks and you draw names (or rather numbers) from a bag. the outcomes are: hank 1 with hank 4, hank 3 with hank 5, and hank 2 with you. all of you only do this for the legal benefits and kinda loophole the system by making the hanks co-guardians of any kids not directly theirs by blood. the hanks hate that they can't all marry one another and you, but you all have one big wedding together and swap around marriage partners to smooch :3
all the hanks kids have h names and a number assigned to them so they know what stuff is theirs (H.H. is the dominant initials so the numbers are needed).
after hannah/hank 0/the 6th hank is born, the other hanks want kiddos, but you have to put your foot down and ensure a minimum 2-3 year age gap between pregnancies or else you would explode...
the method of deciding the next daddy is also done by drawing names (minus hank 5, but he gets a bonus (technically an accident) kid after all the others sire theirs and that's where you HAVE to tap out); daddy 1 is- funnily enough hank 1-, daddy 2 is hank 4, daddy 3 is hank 2, and daddy 4 is hank 3!
you end up having an even split of 4 girls and 4 boys
the boys are as followed: harlow aka hank 8 (hank 1 is the dad, he pursues basketball as his go-to sport and his signature color is amber), identical twins harley and harvey aka hanks 9 and 10 (hank 4 is the dad and gets freaked out when two pop out instead of one; harley pursues lacrosse and harvey pursues swimming, their colors are mauve and lilac), and one of the fraternal twins horatio aka hank 11 (hank 2 is the dad and was thankfully not surprised that two came out instead of one, he pursues baseball and his color is crimson)
the girls (minus the eldest aka hannah/hank 0/hank 6) are as followed: one of the fraternal twin helena aka hank 12 (again, hank 2 is the dad and was thankfully not surprised that two came out instead of one; helena does musical theatre, which is a honorary sport in the hanks' eyes because of the dancing and the amount of practice involved, her color is scarlet), heather aka hank 13 (hank 3 is the dad, she pursues cheer/gymnastics and her color is teal), and surprise baby haven aka hank 14 (she was a cryptic pregnancy and paternity testing showed hank 5 as the dad, he was so happy; she pursues ballet as her sport and her color is olive)
the hanks have different versions of dad so the kids don’t get confused: hank 1 is dad, hank 2 is baba, hank 3 is pops, hank 4 is papa, and hank 5 is papi
by the time you're finished popping babies, hannah is ready to graduate high school with a full ride to one of the best colleges on the east coast, thanks to being scouted at a softball championship; for her graduation, you and the hanks have to buy out two rows of seating at the ceremony and get scolded by the other parents for cheering the loudest when hannah crosses the stage <3
age wise at the time of hannah’s high school graduation and oldest to youngest: hannah (18), harlow (16), harley and harvey (14), horatio and helena (12), heather (10), haven (5)
the fourteen of you live in a custom house, built by the hanks with the help of folks like tony, eddie, and volt; their salaries (especially that brain surgeon money hank 3 gets) are enough to create a mansion for you and the kids, built upon a beautiful acre of land with so many features (i.e. pool, room for extreme sports). it’s kinda insane how many bedrooms there are in this home; the kids start out in shared rooms that are split up by age and gender until they start middle school. you and each hank have a room to yourselves for hobbies and work, y’all usually sleep in one massive bed!
while hanks 1/2/3 started their own dream careers, hanks 4 and 5 struggled the most with what to do after becoming human; hank 5 ultimately decides to be a stay at home dad who occasionally models (he was scouted by someone from a model agency while picking up the kids from school) while hank 4 remains as an extreme sports athlete!
to everyone’s surprise and glee, hank 4 rocks hard at maintaining an extreme sports career, making a youtube channel that garners 500k subscribers and eventually winning multiple medals in the x games for surfing and snowboarding
hank 1’s parachute for dogs business ends up expanding into accessible sports equipment after haven— who was diagnosed with spina bifida at birth and uses a wheelchair— expresses her interest in doing ballet; his business eventually secures contracts with the paralympics and disabled sports league to supply their equipment
hank 2’s first novel takes about a year to get finalized and published; while he worked on it, hank 2 would assist hank 5 in childcare and maintaining the house. his first novel— a painter’s tale, which follows the story of a man confronting the losses in his life while pursuing the person of his dreams through creating abstract artwork— becomes a new york times best seller
hank 3 struggles the most in pursuing his dream career. he has to work multiple levels of education before he achieves a neurosurgery residency at the local hospital. despite the time it took, hank 3 becomes a top brain surgeon and has improved the lives of many people with neurological conditions. attending hank 3’s graduations from college and medical school remains one of the greatest highlights of your life with the hanks
by the time all your kids grow up and move out to start their own journeys, you and the hanks retire and spend it by traveling around the world, such as backpacking through the appalachian trail or enjoying the sights in korea
you and the hanks live a long, fulfilled life as a beautiful polycule :)
bonus: the hanks kids as teens/young adults (from oldest to youngest: hannah, harlow, harley, harvey, horatio, helena, heather, and haven)
if you made it to the end of this post, please like/reblog/comment — it helps out a lot <3
I love the concept of the dateables scaring a burglar off while they're still objects, especially when you're not home, but what would happen if the burglar got their hands on the dateviators?
Imagine if they found them in the attic inside Sophia and tried them on for the first time, only to turn around and see this –
(Not pictured is Dorian, Eddie, Volt and Tony getting ready to throw punches while Sophia gets the penny whip out).
While the burglar recovered from Parker's punch, the back of their hoodie was grabbed by Attic Dorian, who looks to Eddie, Volt and Tony in the hallway.
"Let's give 'em a proper warm welcome, shall we?"
By the time you come back home, the front door is thrown open and you see the burglar screaming as they scramble to get away from your house – they had two black eyes, fried hair that stood on its ends, multiple bruises and singed clothes that exposed the whip and claw marks on their sides.
You immediately rush inside to find the house mostly untouched, though you could see multiple things out of place including Skylar, who had been thrown to the floor by the staircase.
"What happened–?!"
You pick the dateviators up and inspect her for any scratches before you put her on and face the front door.
"Nothing we couldn't handle love," Front Dorian adjusts his flat cap with busted knuckles and a rather pleased smile.
"But I don't think they're planning on coming back."
Okay this fic idea is gonna sound weird but what if the Homeowner in Date Everything! have nosy parents and relatives who kept trying to set them up with random dates or arrange marriages due to being a Old Fashion Family despite Homeowner claiming to be happily in relationship of 102
Resulting in "Suitors" popping up at Homeowner house send by relatives to impress them only for many to run away screaming from the "Haunted" House(Aka The Dateables getting jealous and protective) the final straw came when one suitor straight up propose and host a wedding in Homeowner Front Yard(Like that scene of Beauty and The Beast where Gaston try to propose and marry Belle) without asking them first let just say Homeowner Nosy Family got the fright of there life when Nightmare went to visit them
OH. OH HO HOOOO!!! Keep feeding my brain works like this and you’ll get many many stories!
Bad Romance
GN readers x fic
It’s not viable to kill your family, you love them despite their pestering, but god do your household appliances wanna kill them.
You’ve tried to calm them down, and it’s worked for the most part, but you think Tydus is about to suplex your dad. It was fine at the start with your mom subtly hinting at some person she thought you might like and how she knows their parents, and at first you were okay just turning her down. Except now she had dropped the subtlety and you didn’t really have a way to explain the 102 partners you already had without her having a heart attack.
The first time she sent someone over to your house as a way to maybe shove into a relationship, it had gone horribly wrong. You don’t know how your mom thought they were your type or what you did to make her think that, but you needed to get her to stop. They were so pushy as you tried to get them out of your house, you noticed the dishes starting to shake a bit as you did. You shoved them out of your kitchen as a way to distract them from the noise but it didn’t work.
“WHAT WAS THAT?!” They were screaming, and at that moment before you could make up something, the curtains started flowing causing the would be suitor to scream again. Then the fireplace started roaring, and your piano started playing a haunting tune, the stairs were creaking and all your electrical appliances were going crazy, the lights themselves were flickering.
You didn’t need to push them anymore as they ran out screaming. From that day on when someone came over to your house at your parent’s insistence something creepy would happen. For some of the people everything was fine, those were the ones that were nice enough to leave on their own, but the ones that overstayed their welcome? Maybe got a bit too comfortable trying to holding you? Oh yeah no, they’d run away screaming. Zoey found she really enjoyed haunting annoying people, which maybe you should be concerned about.
After every unwanted visit all your lovers would hug, kiss, and pamper you as much as they could. While they wish they could meet you parents and stop their nonsense of trying to set you up, they loved having you all to themselves most days.
Then another suitor came up to your door, and your door was not okay with what he was seeing. Dorian made sure that everyone was aware of the giant fan fair being set up outside your front door. They weren’t to sure what it was at first but they figured out pretty quickly that it was a proposal the minute your parents were there and started talking. Thankfully you were still upstairs talking to Amir about something so the objects had time to alert you and brainstorm what to do.
None of them really wanted you to open the door, and frankly neither did you, your parents had really crossed a line this time and you were starting to cry a bit. The objects stayed with you to clam you down, providing warmth and a calming presence. Hours went by with them holding you and at some point everyone outside finally left. None of them told you though in case it made you cry even more, several of them were already worried about your hydration as it was.
The objects talked amongst themselves after you fell asleep about what to do. They couldn’t really stop your parents themselves, at least not most of them. Everyone had agreed that sending in Nightmare was their best bet at a solution, being that she could actually talk to your parents in a way. So all together they made a script, one that explained their relationship with you, with a couple horrendous nightmares in between for good measure. Hey if they couldn’t kill them with kindness maybe a heart attack would do.
You got worried when your parents stopped asking about your marriage prospects, or when your mom stopped point people out to you. Not that you weren’t happy about not having the nagging anymore, but you were concerned when your parents refused to enter your home anymore. The objects have yet to tell you about their forced meeting with your parents, but they’ll tell you at some point, just, give them a minute to think of how to say it.
here a Date Everything Fanfic idea of how the Dateables will handle on there own if Homeowner is away for a while like going on a week trip to see family or work trip and the Dateables thought they'll be alright with the homeowner gone for a bit......when Homeowner comes back they got tackle by dozen of Dateables begging never to leave them alone again
Ask and ye shall receive!
Time Away
GN reader x fic
It was only a week trip you told them, just for your cousins wedding you were a part of. They were all so ecstatic to see you finally leave the house after so long that they really overdid their excitement for you. Everyone was trying to get in as much time with you as they possibly could before you headed out. Kori took a little longer explaining every coffee she gave you, and Barry spent some extra time going over your makeup for the wedding.
They all thought they could live without you around for a while. But by the second day they had started going stir crazy, maybe they overdid it the last few days, but the sudden drop in time they spent with you was jarring. By the fifth day it felt like the energy had just left them all, and it was starting to show.
They all tried their best to really help each other out, Johnny and Jean Loo had been trying their best to give each other tips on singing and sing a couple duets, Chance gathered a few different objects to play a GnG one shot that, while fun, did not distract from the glaringly human shaped whole they all had in their hearts right now. Shockingly Stefan, Errol, and Luke hadn’t fought about anything food related since you’d left, not for lack of opinion, but they just couldn’t seem to muster up any will to yell.
Eddi and Volt had each other to help with the coping, but it was hard to cope when all the acts that were on stage were love songs dedicated to you. (Johnny was the worst offender bawling halfway through his set, no body stopped him as they were all choking up too)
Celia and Florence threw themselves into work to ignore the ache of missing your intrusions on their work days, but it was hard to do when half of their work involved objects crying about missing you.
This wasn’t the first time you had left them, before you got Skylar you had gone to events and company trips and they’d been fine. Before nothing had really changed in anyone’s schedule, but now a lot of their day involved talking to you, dateviator charge or not, your presence was imprinted on their every day life.
The seventh day everyone was so antsy about you coming back, Hoove made sure everything was spotless, did he clean about five times before noon because of nerves? Maybe, you weren’t there to stop him. Hector reset the temperature constantly to make sure it was just right, trying to take into account the changes in air and weather you’ve had probably been through in the airport and on the plane.
Jerry had remodeled his museum so many times that a few of the exhibits had gotten mixed together, it took him even longer to undo the conglomerate that they became than it did to reorganize.
Betty and Mateo had been adjusting the pillows and blankets to make the bed as perfect as they could for the past hour, it was never good enough in their eyes.
Then finally Doria sounded the alarm that you were at the door, and everyone got to their places, excited and happy to see you. You unlocked the door with a sigh, thanking Dorian and he preened a bit under your thanks. You were confused on why the dateviators were on your hallway table though, you thought you had put them away with Ben Hwa in case Valdivia got any ideas while you were gone. Still perplexed you sat your things down and put on the glasses, you didn’t have time to aim as the moment you put them on they started up right away. The minute the glasses charged up you were almost toppled over from the sheer amount of hugs you were getting.
A little disoriented you tried to listen to what everyone was saying, and failing miserably. Finally Skylar hugged you tight and spoke directly in your ear so you could hear her clearly. “Please never leave us alone that long again! We were going crazy!” You hug them all tighter and chuckle, what has your life become.
You really don’t have the heart to tell them you got invited out for another wedding in a couple months.
SYNOPSIS: You were the beloved, helpful houseowner full of objects who were head over heels in love with you. Which would’ve been great if you weren’t completely dense to their flirting.
TAGS: GN!Reader, VERY suggestive, Everyone Falling for the Same Idiot, Mentions of alcohol / drinking (it’s a party), not proofread bc i lazy eheh...
Your entire house was deeply in love with you. Hopelessly and pathetically in love with you.
Which was… a bit of a problem.
Not for them, of course! For them, every brush of your hand, every conversation, every time you offered to help was another arrow through the heart! Proof that their feelings were mutual.
But for you? Well... you were just being nice.
You always had been funny, patient, and warm.
You gave everyone birthdays, even if they didn’t have one, just so they could feel celebrated. You mended them when they cracked, chipped, or broke. And you always handled them like they were something precious.
You were, quite literally, the glue that held the whole household together. So naturally, they fell for you.
No one was entirely sure when it started. It was less like a singular lightning strike and more like a slow flood, realization blooming like ivy around the chest, subtle and soft and then suddenly everywhere. You would walk into a room, hair messy from sleep, holding a mug half-filled with tea you’d forgotten you made, and every eye would turn to you with the same expression of love.
But there was just one problem for them...
Their human was so, so, so horribly, painfully, devastatingly dense.
Dorian liked to think of himself as a door with standards. A gentleman of structure and duty. He had withstood years of rough treatment—slams, kicks, storms, and the occasional toddler with a marker.
But despite everything he’d already endured, nothing could have prepared him for you.
You padded barefoot out of the bathroom, damp from your shower, skin dewy, and towel hanging dangerously low.
The hallway was quiet, sun slanting in through the skylight in lazy golden beams, warming the floor under your toes as you hummed something off-key. You smelled like soap and warmth and innocence, and it was driving Dorian absolutely mad.
He tried to avert his gaze, to maintain his usual composure, when a thump caught his attention.
"Oh shoot!" you gasped, chasing after something.
A hairbrush, Dorian registered distantly, just before it slipped from your hand again and clattered against the hardwood. It bounced once, twice, then came to a rest, pressed right up against the base of his frame.
Before he could even attempt to register what was happening, let alone help, you were already by him, reaching for it. You bent forward, and your towel, already scandalously low, hitched down just a little.
Then, suddenly, the backs of your thighs pressed warmly against his front, your ass making full, unintentional contact with his crotch.
Dorian froze. His entire frame locked in place. His hinges seized with a creak so soft it was barely more than a breath.
"Oops!" you said lightly, still crouched. "Sorry, big guy."
Big guy.
"Didn’t mean to bump into you," you added, voice bright and oblivious.
Brush in hand, you stood up and glanced back at him, one hand settling against his side. Your fingers trailed along his suit like it was nothing.
Something inside Dorian snapped. In one fluid, startlingly effortless motion, he reached around your waist, his arm wrapping across your stomach as he hauled you back against him.
You gasped, startled, as your spine collided with his chest. He completely dwarfed you, the breadth of his body enveloping yours, his height casting you in shadow even in the golden hallway light.
One of his hands slid upward, settling over your ribs. His palm alone spanned nearly the entire width of your torso, his fingers grazing the edge of your sternum.
"I do wish," Dorian muttered, his voice low and gravelly near your ear, "you’d stop calling me that."
You blinked up at him, that same unfazed, sunny smile creeping back up on your face.
"What? Big guy?"
Dorian let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a grumble, low and rough in his throat. "You're doin' it on purpose now."
"But you are big!" you said sweetly, as if you weren’t driving a stake directly through his wooden heart. "And to be fair, you were in my way."
He just stared down at you, jaw clenched, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. For a long, loaded moment, he just stood there, trying to decide whether you were messing with him or were really this much of an idiot.
Then finally, after what felt like minutes, he exhaled sharply, muttering a low curse under his breath as he let go of you.
You giggled, entirely unbothered, and gave his arm a light squeeze, right over the solid curve of his bicep.
"Guess I’ll just have to squeeze past you next time," you teased, nudging a hip against his side before walking away, towel swaying with every step.
Dorian huffed, pink creeping up his neck.
"Hate to see you go," he muttered under his breath as his eyes followed you, "but love to watch you leave."
House - 0 | Homeowner - 1
Hector was overheating.
Literally, yes... his filter was long overdue for cleaning and his internal systems were running hot, but also in the other, far more inconvenient way. The emotional one. The one caused by you sitting on your knees beside him, pulling his panel open like you were undressing a lover kind of way.
It wasn’t good for his circuits. It wasn’t good for his systems. And it was absolutely catastrophic for whatever vaguely heart-shaped piece of him had decided it was a good idea to fall in love with you.
"I’m so sorry, Hector," you murmured, your brow furrowed in soft concern as you wiped delicately at the filter casing with the edge of your cloth. "I should’ve cleaned you days ago! I kept meaning to, but everything’s been so hectic lately. You must’ve been so uncomfortable."
He wanted to respond. Really, he did. But he was fairly certain that if he tried, his voice wouldn't work.
Instead, Hector emitted a soft, strangled click-hiss, his cooling fan sputtering to life.
You, of course, mistook it for a glitch.
"Oh no, that sounds awful!" you murmured, your voice full of guilt as you leaned in closer to inspect the exposed panel.
One hand of yours braced lightly against the edge of his casing for balance as you peered into the tangle of metal and heat. Your breath warmed the inside of his frame. Your fingers skimmed the edge of his vent. Your hair, damp from your shower, fell forward and brushed against his shoulder.
That was the moment Hector ceased to function as a coherent being.
His fans rattled audibly, and he briefly considered whether it would be more dignified to combust on the spot or simply roll back into the vents.
"A-Ahm," he choked, voice static-cracked and strained as his systems tried and failed to recalibrate. "You’re... v-very close."
You didn’t move away. Instead, you looked up with wide, apologetic eyes and that same devastating softness in your expression.
"I know! Sorry—! I’m totally crowding your space, aren’t I?" you said, voice sheepish. "But your filter’s delicate, and I didn’t want to tug anything wrong. I’ll be quick, I promise."
Hector was going to die right here on the attic floor.
You resumed brushing the filter with small, circular motions. Flecks of lint came free like snowflakes, and every time you leaned in to inspect your work, Hector buzzed faintly in the chest.
"I don’t deserve this kind of attention," he said finally, voice quieter now, but more intentional. "N-Not unless you... mean it."
You looked up, soft and earnest, your eyes wide and full of the exact kind of kindness that had ruined his life.
"Of course I mean it! You take such good care of the house. Of me. I just want to return the favor."
"I wasn’t talking about the maintenance," he tried again, more firmly this time. "I meant your hands. The way you touch me... The way you speak to me."
You blinked slowly. Then lit up like you’d solved a puzzle.
"Oh! I’ve been watching a ton of HVAC maintenance tutorials on YouTube," you said proudly. "Is it working?"
Hector made a sound like he'd been punched in the chest.
"Yes," he said, flatly. "You’re very good at... modulation."
"Thank you!" you chirped, beaming at him as you resumed your gentle work. "Your filter’s almost totally clear, by the way. You’re going to feel so much better when this is done."
"I already feel better around you," he muttered.
You glanced up. "Hmm? Did you say something?"
"Nope... Must’ve been... one of my vents…"
House - 0 | Homeowner - 2
"Ah, ah—no, no, no, my dear," Keyes said, clicking her tongue and stopping you mid-chord with a firm press of her hand over yours. "That is not D. I don’t know what that one was, but it certainly wasn’t D."
You blinked up at her. "Oops! Sorry. My fingers have a mind of their own."
"Hmph," she muttered under her breath. "They should ask for directions, then."
With a sigh, she straightened beside you, every inch the proud, long-suffering teacher. You were not the composer she’d imagined when you first started tinkering at her keys. But still, you were… something. Despite being a hand-me-down, she’d become yours. You had carved out space for her and shown a stubborn eagerness to learn.
She guided you patiently, though her eyebrows betrayed her irritation. You were clumsy, untrained. And yet there was something undeniably charming, infuriatingly so, about the way you kept trying. The way you beamed every time a half-correct note rang out from her keys.
Keyes then heard three notes in a row, clear and clean, ringing out like an actual chord. You gasped, delight blooming across your face as you turned to her.
"Wow! I almost got that chord right. I’m totally getting better at fingering you!"
There was a pause.
There was a very long pause before the piano lid slammed shut with a violent clang, the strings inside shrieking in protest like she’d just tried to swallow a metal pipe. You flinched hard, yanking your hands back before the lid could slice your fingers clean off.
"What was that?!"
"Nothing!" she barked, voice jumping half an octave. "Just—a tuning fault! Environmental conditions. Hector! I do not like how he has set the temperature of this room."
You gave her the softest, most earnest look imaginable. A small frown, all concern and kindness. It nearly destroyed her.
"Aww, sorry about that. I bet you’d sound amazing if you were properly tuned. I already cleaned Hector’s filter, but I’ll take care of you soon, I promise!"
Keyes was burning. She could not deal with that kind of tenderness. Not from you. Not from the person who just said "fingering" her like it meant nothing. Like it was lunch talk.
Then, as if that weren’t enough, you giggled and reached over to lift the piano lid again. Only to dramatically slam one of her lowest keys in a perfect imitation of her earlier screech.
"NAIIIIIIL on a chalkboard," you said, grinning wide. "Just like that, right?"
Keyes dropped her head into her hands.
House - 0 | Homeowner - 3
You were sitting cross-legged on the rug in the living room, surrounded by a battlefield of tangled laundry, a knotted-up clothesline, scattered socks, and five very stuck Hanks.
"You guys really need to stop trying to Hank-glide near the drying line," you said, exasperated but patient, gently working a stubborn knot off Hank 2. "This thing’s practically a choking hazard."
"Heh. You know what else is a choking hazard—" Hank 3 started, grinning from where he was half-hogtied in last week’s laundry.
His face was scarlet, practically steaming. Hank 2 wasn’t even breathing at this point. He was just desperately pretending this wasn’t happening, not like this. Not with you this close, crouched over him, touching him like he hadn’t had dreams about this exact scenario.
"Hold still," you said softly, slipping your fingers under the clothesline tangled around his waist. "I’m gonna try to ease it off—"
You pulled hard, and the knot cinched immediately. It went down low, squeezing snug around Hank 2’s hips.
The poor hanger’s soul evacuated his body. The noise that came out of him started as a gasp but ended up as a breathless whimper.
"Oops!" you winced. "Sorry! I’m just trying to get you out without, like… yanking your frame clean off."
“I—I’m gucci,” Hank 2 managed to croak, not nearly as convincing as he thought. “Straight chillin’, homie.”
You tilted your head, frowning as you inspected the knot wrapped tight around his leg. “But… you’re really red. Is it cutting off your circulation? I can try wiggling it loose. It’s just… tight in here.”
That earned you a chorus of wheezing and muffled laughter from all around the room.
Hank 1, already freed and standing off to the side, cleared his throat a little too sharply. “Yeah. Tight. Needs gentle handling. Real finesse job, dawg.”
You glanced over your shoulder and grinned at him like he’d just handed you a compliment. “Mhm! Oh—hey, I’m gonna try to get Hank 5 loose first, but don’t worry! I’ve got magic hands.”
You wiggled your fingers proudly, flashing that sweet, innocent smile that had absolutely no business being as dangerous as it was.
“And you know, I’m super good with ropes,” you added casually, crouching down again to inspect the tangle near Hank 5’s thigh. “Sometimes you just gotta work it slow—back and forth—till it gives.”
“Back and forth,” Hank 3 echoed faintly, eyes fully glazed. “Right on, baby…”
The Hanks weren’t exactly the sharpest objects in the house, but with how dense you were acting, they were starting to think your head might actually be emptier than theirs. How were you going to say stuff like that, all sweet and serious, crouched between someone’s legs, and not realize what you were doing?
Hank 5 watched as you stepped over with that focused little frown you always got when you were being gentle. His head tilted slightly, eyes following every movement of your hands.
"You take care of us so much," he murmured before he could stop himself. It came out lower than he meant, rough around the edges, too honest.
You glanced up at him, beaming like it was the simplest truth in the world. "Of course! I love caring for people."
He flushed, hard. Something inside him flipped like a switch. He had no business thinking what he was thinking, but it was already there, thudding behind his ribs like a heartbeat.
Bet you’d love to take care of a baby, too, his mind supplied hazily. My baby. Ours.
He swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek before anything worse could slip out.
When the final knot slipped free and the line fell away from his leg, Hank 5 let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
The movement tugged the rest of the line taut, and with a soft snap, the section that had pinned Hank 2 finally gave way, freeing them both.
You lit up instantly. “Yes! Okay, that’s two down!”
You turned your attention to Hank 4, who was somehow tangled in both the clothesline and your pajama pants.
"Hmm. This one’s tricky," you muttered. "It’s wedged real deep."
Hank 4 looked down at you, lip caught between his teeth, cheeks tinged pink.
"Oh yeah," he grinned, voice dropping like he thought this was a very different kind of situation. "That one’s in real deep. Might need some serious effort to… ease it out."
"Might take a few tries," you agreed. "That’s fine. I think long, twisty cords are fun to handle."
From somewhere behind you, Hank 3 groaned. "Oh my god, bro. Bro."
With a few steady tugs, the final loop slipped free. The cord gave a soft snap as it came undone, and before you could even register it, Hank 4 let out a surprised yelp.
“Whoa—!”
He toppled backward in an ungraceful sprawl, limbs flailing briefly before landing squarely in Hank 1’s lap. There was a distinct oof from both parties.
“Okay! That’s four.”
Now, only one Hank remained.
You turned toward him, brushing a few strands of hair from your face as you assessed the last, worst knot job of the bunch. Hank 3 was slumped against the wall, half-pinned by a spiderweb of cord. It looped around his chest, through the sleeves of his wingsuit, and—
You paused. Blinked once. Then again, slower.
“Uh,” you said carefully, leaning in to poke at a stubborn knot. “Okay. So you’re… like, really tangled into my underwear.”
Hank 3 looked down at the spot in question. Then up at you.
"I’m good right here," he said, grinning way too brightly. "Don't need to untie me, gorgeous."
House - 0 | Homeowner - 4 | Hank #3 - 1
Dirk sat cross-legged on your closet floor, half-buried beneath a pile of costumes and old clothes. In one hand, he held up a glittery mesh crop top. In the other, what looked like the shredded remains of faux leather pants.
"So… Volt and Eddie’s Halloween party," you said, rummaging through a plastic bin with half-peeled stickers. "I want something cool. But also, like… hot!"
Dirk blinked up at you, adjusting the pirate hat you’d thrown on him earlier. "Is that why you dragged me in here? Costume triage?"
"Yep!" You held up a sheer, iridescent bodysuit with a smile. "Too much?"
Dirk made a strangled sound, his voice catching in his throat as he stared at the outfit. It barely qualified as clothing, and now all he could picture was you in it.
"Y—yeah. No, yeah. That’s… that’s definitely a bold choice."
You grinned, clearly taking it as a compliment. “Perfect.”
Then, you turned away and pulled your sweatshirt off in one smooth motion. Underneath, you were just in pajama shorts and a cami. You tossed the sweatshirt onto the pile beside him like it was nothing.
Dirk, still sitting cross-legged on the closet floor, looked like you’d physically drop-kicked him.
You held the bodysuit up to your chest, turning toward the mirror. "Do you think Volt or Eddie would wear something like this? I want to match their vibe, y’know?"
Dirk let out a very soft, very audible groan through gritted teeth. "I think if you show up in that, nobody’s gonna be thinking about the damn fusebox."
You blinked, tilting your head. "Huh?"
He coughed once, looking down at the crop top in his hands like it held all the answers. "Nothing. You’ll look great. Totally… on-theme."
You brightened. "Perfect! Help me zip?"
He stared at you for a moment like you’d just asked him to diffuse a bomb with one hand while blindfolded.
"Yeah. Totally. Yep. Zipping. Great," he muttered, voice a little too low, a little too strained. Then he lifted two fingers, curling them in a lazy beckon. "C’mere, bug."
You turned around and stepped in close, presenting him your bare back. The bodysuit was already halfway up your thighs, hugging every curve like it had been poured on. Dirk’s breath hitched. His hands hovered, fingers twitching slightly before they settled on the zipper.
His fingertips grazed the dip of your spine as he slid the zipper upward, and you gave a little wiggle to help it along.
Once it was fully on, you turned to admire yourself in the mirror. "Okay, but be honest… Is this too sexy-scary? Or just scary-sexy?"
You bent forward slightly, twisting to check the fit. "It’s a little tight around the back…"
Dirk’s eyes bulged. "N-nope, it’s—it’s perfect. It’s barely clothing. I mean—it looks great. On you. In a way that’s… completely hot."
"You’re such a good hype man," you added, tossing him a wink. "I’d be lost without you."
He didn’t respond at first. Just nodded, very tightly. Then turned so fast he tripped on a hoodie sleeve and nearly ate the floor.
"Are you okay?" you asked, half-laughing, half-concerned.
"Yup," he muttered, breathless and wrecked. "Totally fine. Everything’s fine. The universe is testing me, but I’m fine."
House - 0 | Homeowner - 5
Halloween night at the Breaker Box was loud. Thumping bass, flashing neon strobes, and fog machines in overdrive.
Volt had wanted it to be big, a full spectacle, especially since this was the first time their human was going to be there. That was probably the only reason Eddie had agreed to it in the first place.
Eddie held down the bar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, expression locked somewhere between irritation and resignation as he poured drinks beneath the flickering lights. Volt, on the other hand, was in his element, gliding through the crowd, all confidence and charisma.
"Hi guys!"
Eddie turned just in time to see you walk in, dressed for the occasion.
And immediately choked.
Not on a drink. Not on smoke. Just on you.
Your hair was a wild halo of static-kissed chaos, somehow framing your face perfectly despite looking completely unintentional. The outfit you had on was a sheer bodysuit layered under a cropped vest, fabric clinging and torn in just the right places. Flashes of skin peeked through: a sliver of hip, a glimpse of collarbone, the gleam of a screw-shaped clasp on the choker around your neck.
You were Frankenstein’s monster. And you looked good.
Eddie felt his whole system short-circuit. And clearly, he wasn’t the only one.
The crowd quieted for a second as heads turned, eyes wide. People stared. Someone actually dropped their drink. Heat spread across more than a few faces.
"Live wire—" Eddie muttered, voice low and a little strangled. "What the hell are you wearing!?"
You beamed at Eddie, bouncing slightly on your heels, proud as ever. "Frankenstein! Well, Frankenstein’s monster, technically. I figured I’d fit right in with you guys, you know... all alive and electric."
Eddie just stared. It took him a second to actually process what he was seeing. The way the vest clung perfectly to your frame, the delicate stitching tracing your thighs and collarbone, the gleam of bolt-shaped earrings catching the light. You looked like you belonged here.
Like you belonged to him.
To both of them.
"My, my," came Volt’s voice from behind you, silk-smooth and slow like warm static down your spine. "Isn’t this a lovely surprise?"
You turned cheerfully toward him, just as the next performer, Keyes, hurried up to the piano. You gave her a bright wave, beaming with your usual sunshine.
Face flushed, Keyes dropped onto the bench and launched into her piece like it might save her life, fingers flying over the keys as if she could outrun the image of you still lingering in her head.
Beside you, Volt let out a low whistle.
"You look like our third," he murmured, eyes trailing from your boots to your vest, lingering far too long on the space in between. His smile curled slow and dangerous, pure voltage wrapped in charm.
You turned to him, head tilted in confusion. "Third what?"
For a beat, something sharp and electric flickered behind his eyes. Then, with a wicked gleam, he recovered.
"Our third piece," Volt said, lips twitching. "You complete the look."
"Oh!" You laughed, delighted. "Yeah, that’s what I was going for! I based this on your outfits. Thought it would be fun to match."
Behind the bar, Eddie made a sound that could’ve been a groan. His hand slipped while wiping a glass, knocking over a shaker, which he caught with reflexes just a second too slow.
“Mmm. They look great, don’t they?” Volt added smoothly, clearly enjoying the show, and the effect you were having on Eddie.
“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, voice low and hoarse. “If they’re trying to kill me.”
You turned toward him. "What? Sorry—didn’t catch that."
Volt chuckled, low and knowing, stepping just a little closer to your side. “You’re going to be the end of him.”
You blinked, tilting your head. “Why?”
Then you shifted, turned fully to face Volt, and that’s when Eddie saw the back of your costume. Or rather, the complete lack of it.
You see, what little fabric you had on in front didn’t quite make it all the way around.
Eddie dropped behind the bar so fast he nearly sent a bottle of rum flying. His ears went crimson. His entire face followed.
Volt, absolutely glowing with delight, slid an arm lazily around your shoulders like you were the night’s main event. Which, frankly, you were.
"Why don’t you come with me," he purred, steering you smoothly toward the dance floor, "before poor Eddison starts shorting out the liquor shelf."
House - 0 | Homeowner - 6
You yawned as you stumbled into the dim hallway, one shoe dangling loosely from your toes, the other long since lost to the dance floor. Glitter was smeared across your cheeks, streaked with sweat and eyeliner. The distant bass from Volt and Eddie’s Halloween party still throbbed somewhere deep in your skull.
You padded toward your room, dragging your feet like a glittery zombie, and found Betty sprawled across your bed, basking in the silver wash of moonlight spilling through the window. Her dark curls fanned over the pillow like a halo, and her lips curved the second she saw you.
"Well, well," she purred, voice all velvet and slow amusement. "Look who survived the electric rave."
You blinked at her, swaying like a drunk little sapling. "Betts… I think I danced so hard my toes forgot how to be toes."
She arched a brow, eyes glinting. "That would explain the outfit."
You hiccuped out a laugh and tugged your costume shirt over your head. Glitter exploded into the air like celebratory dust. "Too many layers. I’m like… a sexy onion."
Betty’s eyes followed the shirt’s arc as it floated to the floor, then snapped back to you, lingering as you struggled with the zipper on your pants. "If that’s what onions look like now," she murmured, watching you wiggle, "I need to spend more time in the kitchen."
"Whaaaat? Why would you do that?" you asked, half-wriggling, half-collapsing. "You’re a bed. Beds can’t be in kitchens."
Your pants finally gave up their grip, and you attempted to kick them off, only to faceplant onto the mattress.
Betty sat up slowly as her gaze ran over you, hunger wrapped in amusement.
"Poor thing," she murmured, voice sticky with suggestion. "Sounds like you need someone to… take care of you."
You groaned into the sheets. "I need coffee."
She paused. "What if I offered… a massage?"
You rolled halfway onto your side and squinted up at her. "Oh my god, no. If anyone touches me, I might vomit glitter. I’m unstable."
Betty blinked, clearly unprepared for that answer. "Okay… how about a bath? Me, Bathsheba, and you?"
You peeled your remaining shirt off with the elegance of a molting animal and flung it vaguely across the room. "No time. Must become one with this mattress."
Betty, undeterred, slinked forward on her knees and leaned close, her lips brushing your ear. "You know… some people sleep better when they’re not wearing anything."
You let out a blissful sigh into her stomach, your voice muffled. "Wow… You smell like sexy marshmallows."
Betty fell flat on her back, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat.
"Sexy marshmallows," she repeated, deadpan.
You gave a solemn little nod. "So soft and squishy. I’d drink you with a spoon."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Betty let out a long, tortured sigh and wrapped her arms around you, pulling your half-naked, glitter-dusted form flush against her.
"You’re lucky you’re cute," she muttered, tucking you close as you immediately went slack and boneless in her hold.
She traced gentle circles over your back, eyes heavy-lidded.
"You know," she whispered, voice low and dangerous, "if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me into trouble. Crawling into my bed, stripping down, whispering sweet nothings…"
You snored against her stomach.
Betty groaned, defeated once and for all. "Unbelievable."
House - 0 | Homeowner - 7
a/n: my laptop charger broke so im just trying to get my drafts out before it goes lowbat TT
my new charger comes in a few dayss so the part 3 to the 100 bfs fic will take a while
