🍀we're all mentally ill here🍀

Hi this is my archive of comfort She/Her pronouns lvl 21

[g00d--m0urning]

IS THIS THING ON? (Date Everything SMAU)

requst from anon

The dateables play an Uno reverse and spam your phone.

Featuring: Eddie, Volt, Dorian, Tony, Dunk, Cabrizzio, Daisuke, Amir, Cam, Curt, Rod, Cam, Jon Wick, Reggie, and Doug

[bsadushenka]

зарисовки с любимками из Date Everything. Умоляю скажите что в ру сегменте за эту игру шарят больше чем полтора землекопа

[fatal-dr0id]

╭┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╮

⟢ Sugar & Spice, Love & Hate

⋆˚࿔ Date Everything! Fanfiction

╰┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╯

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chapter Index 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

────୨ৎ────

Your eyes are closed, your body entirely relaxed for the first time in a hot minute. Everything’s been piling up on your shoulders and the state of your hands has only gotten worse since you woke up that morning. Half of your palm is white now, the color having spread down from your fingers. You had spent all morning in your bed just staring at them, unsure of what to do with yourself. The most comforting fact is that nothing hurts and you can still feel everything you touch just fine, even on the white patches of your skin. Having calmed yourself away from having a panic attack, knowing the inevitable is that this color will eventually consume your whole body, you knew going to someone who specializes in comfort would help you relax. Or, more so, someone who has a gentle demeanor who can keep you distracted.

So, here you find yourself, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, your head resting in the lap of said blanket’s connected presence.

Mateo’s fingers slowly drag along your scalp as he watches you rest, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as they trail down to your gloved hands that rest on your stomach. You had shown him the issue, having tried to keep your shaky voice from breaking entirely as you explained to him that you were just at a loss for what to do. He had listened. Mateo sympathizes with your situation, he really does, but he has no idea how to help except for what he’s doing now.

You’ve already gotten a full night of rest and had just woken up an hour and a half ago, but there’s something different about this sort of relaxation. Mateo’s holding you, gently rubbing your head and keeping you swaddled in a warm, soft blanket. It’s peaceful and beats any sort of nap you could have tried to take instead. 

“Thank you…” You finally breathe out and Mateo’s eyes meet yours. He pauses before offering you a warm smile, nodding.

“Anytime. It’s what I’m made for,” Mateo chuckles softly before quickly correcting himself, “that is to say, I do actually want to support you. I’m not just doing it because I have to.”

You chuckle softly and shake your head.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

There’s another small moment of silence, Mateo’s hand pausing over your head before he idly begins tapping his fingers gently.

“I think everything will be okay,” Mateo finally says and you let out a heavy sigh. You’ve heard that a million times before, but if anyone truly believed that, they wouldn’t be following it with a million questions about whether you’re okay in the first place. Still, you appreciate the sentiment and do feel a little better each time someone says that.

“I hope so,” you breathe out, “I just…feel like I’m stuck. I’ve never once been stuck in a situation where the possibilities are completely unknown. No one has ever experienced this before. I’ve searched all over the damn internet and there’s just…nothing.”

Mateo nods slowly, his eyes trained on his own fingers tapping idly on your head.

“No one else has had Dateviators before…and from what it sounds like, those are most likely the cause of this.”

You resist the urge to look at your hands again. They’re covered by your gloves, anyway. You’re lucky it's winter season, so long sleeves won’t make you too hot once the white starts spreading up your arms, as it most likely will.

“Still, the Dateviators aren’t deadly,” Mateo chuckles, “I’m sure if they were, Skylar would know about it.”

“I don’t think Skylar could have known…she’s never been put in this position, has she?”

Mateo hesitates and falls silent, wincing a bit. You feel guilt tug at your chest as soon as the words simmered and you look back up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a debby-downer. I’m just…freaked out.”

“No, no,” Mateo assures you, patting your head gently, “you have every right to be upset about it. I mean…none of us could possibly understand what you’re going through.”

You nod slowly and shift to sit up, unwrapping yourself from the blanket and turning your head to look back at him once propped up on your hands.

“Thanks for letting me rest here for a bit, Mateo. It means a lot.”

Mateo blinks a bit, taken aback by your sudden rise from comfort. He then gives you a warm smile and places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it a little.

“Anytime…and hey, next time if you want a little friend to play with while you’re upset, I’ve got plenty of inanimals who will love you.”

You chuckle softly at the thought. Playing with a bunch of “tassle-hounds” and cats made of wire does sound like a nice distraction. You consider asking him to see one now, it’s not like you have much else to do in the meantime, but the sound of arguing coming from a few rooms over cuts you off. You look towards the hall and sigh.

“Always something in this house…” You mumble, moving to stand. Mateo raises an eyebrow before giving you a sheepish smile.

“You know, I’m sure someone else will handle cooling the argument down. You don’t have to step in.”

You shake your head and shrug, stretching your body upwards as you adjust to being back on your feet.

“Nope,” you grunt, “breaking up an argument sounds much more entertaining than layin’ around all day.”

Mateo relents with a soft chuckle and leans back on the couch, shrugging.

“If it gets too bad, just call for Dorian, I guess.”

With that, Mateo disappears as you head out of the living room and into the bathroom, where the shouting is coming from. You would think right off the bat that it would be Amir scolding the two singers who reside there. The man has a distaste for loud annoyances and disruptions to his peace and cleanliness, especially when it comes to fogging up the mirror’s surface. You seem to be incorrect this time as you move closer and make out two very distinct voices. It sounds like the artists themselves are arguing.

“Jean Loo cannot perfect his lyricism when you are moaning and groaning things that hardly sound like lyrics less than two feet from him!”

You peek your head into the bathroom and see Johnny Splash and Jean Loo nearly chest to chest with each other, Johnny’s arms crossed and his head held up as he glares down at Jean Loo, who’s puffing his chest out to try and look bigger. The two are quite pale in complexion, so their faces are quite red from all their yelling and arguing.

“If you don’t like it, ya got two bathrooms to choose from, Loo. Just go rap upstairs!” Johnny shoots back, but Jean Loo gets closer to his face and raises his voice.

“Non!” Jean Loo exclaims, making Johnny lean back with a cringe in his nose, “Jean Loo prefers to work here. Bathsheba and Rebel are being too noisy with their gossip and judgment in the upstairs restroom. While Jean Loo can usually use their very clever insults as lyrics, it distracts his work!”

You finally fully step through the door, but alas, your presence has not yet been noticed. You step a bit closer, but they still don’t seem to see you. The bathroom is a little steamy, presumably from Johnny’s anger as he gets berated by the Frenchman.

“Well, I only got here to work. I don’t have the privilege of two studios to practice in like you do,” Johnny says with a huff.

Studios? They’re your bathrooms.

“You don’t deserve any 'studio privilege'. You can’t even sing!” Jean Loo argues back. You wince at his insult, but Johnny seems to ignore it altogether. He clearly doesn’t value any insult thrown at him by Jean Loo since the two have very opposing views on rapping versus singing in terms of “good music.”

“I have tried to be nice and respect yer style of music, but yer so goddamn selfish and self-centered that you go and criticize others without even listenin’ to any of yer own criticism!” Johnny shoots back. You almost have to applaud his response. 

“Oh, please, if you’re so high and mighty about taking criticism, your singing might actually sound better by now. Better yet, you’d quit altogether and realize your trash!” Jean Loo spats in response. You hate to say it, but there’s some truth to that statement, although Jean Loo was very mean about it.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. What are you doing? You’re just sitting there observing their arguments without actually stopping them. The two don’t even know you’re standing there.

You clear your throat and catch their attention before either one of them can continue. Johnny meets your eyes and looks downright embarrassed, his face going more red as he loosens his stiff posture, realizing he’s been yelling at Jean Loo like a fool in front of you. Jean Loo, on the other hand, seems not to care that you’ve been watching him spit out some nasty things at Johnny, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Darlin’! I didn’t see you standing there. We were just–he–I didn’t–” Jean Loo cuts Johnny’s flustered rambling off as he crosses his arms and finishes his sentence for him.

“Jean Loo was just trying to give Johnny some good career advice. You agree, non? He’s hopeless as a popstar!” Jean Loo exclaims and Johnny clenches a fist at his side, shooting Jean Loo a hardened glare. You’ve never exactly seen Johnny this angry, but he certainly wears the emotion attractively.

“I don’t agree,” you defend Johnny. Sure, his singing needs a few, maybe many, refinements, but he’s a sweetheart and the man has got a dream. Besides, after the things you two have shared, is it really your place to shoot him down? He can handle that later on in his career, “I think Johnny’s got a very unique talent you don’t see a lot nowadays.”

Johnny beams at your defense and snaps his fingers before pointing at you, giving Jean Loo a smug grin.

“Pretty girl over here doesn’t lie, frenchie,” Johnny chuckles and Jean Loo cocks an eyebrow, smirking.

“She said you had a unique talent. Not an impressive or good one,” Jean Loo snorts. Damn, he got you there. You don’t really like the idea of lying to Johnny and that was your best way around the truth. Lucky for you, Johnny doesn’t seem to acknowledge Jean Loo’s correction at all, saving you the awkwardness of trying to come up with a better defense.

“She’s stickin’ by my side no matter what my talent is, Jean Loo! I don’t see anyone backin’ up yer little ‘crapping’ talent.” Johnny snorts and Jean Loo seems to, for once in this whole argument, hesitate. He’s a bit stunned, clearly realizing he does, in fact, not have a defense backing him. He looks around and then glares at Johnny and motions to you.

“Jean Loo has not even had the chance to show off his talents to her. He’s sure once he does, she’ll love his serenading more than yours.”

Serenading? You can’t imagine Jean Loo using his rapping abilities to serenade you, but you suppose it's the thought that counts.

“You think you can serenade her with your witty lines an’ insults? What kinda serenadin’ is that!?” Johnny clearly understands where you’re coming from.

“The kind small-brained, talentless, lonely little fools like you do not understand!” Jean Loo shot back, poking Johnny’s chest, “Girls love to hear the rap songs made with the heart. You can rap about anything! Jean Loo can sweep her off her feet with just a few bars.”

Johnny snorts and crosses his arms, stepping back.

“Well then, Little Crapper. Sweep her off her pretty little feet.” Johnny says and earns a scoff from Jean Loo.

“It is Lil’ Crapper!”

Jean Loo then turns and looks at you. He pauses before smirking and adjusting his hoodie. He’s been dying to show off his talents. Now seems as good a time as ever. The thing is, there’s nothing more disconcerting than realizing you’re going to be the center of a man’s freestyle. 

“Fine…” Jean Loo chuckles as he straightens up, puffing his chest up and pulling the ballcock in his hands up to his lips, “You want to be swooned? Swept off your feet? Jean’s the charming and most fly suitor that you could ever meet!”

And he’s off. You immediately feel almost akin to standing naked in front of an entire audience. You just have to stand there while Jean Loo raps at you. While his lines are cheesy, you have to admit it’s impressive that he can think on his toes and rap line after line without even stuttering. Sure, there are a few toilet jokes thrown in that make you cringe and chuckle, but you suppose you can’t blame the man for representing himself in his art. Unlike Johnny, there is some form of talent in his work. He could definitely make it as a rapper if he put himself out there. Though you’d hate to compare. You have a liking for both of them.

“Face it, Johnny Trash, the cards’ already dealt. You’re alone, Loo’s got the throne, and made her heart melt!”

Bars.

You snort out a laugh as he finishes and crosses his arms, a smug grin on his face. You can’t resist it. You begin to clap, an amused grin on your face. It’s even funnier that Johnny looks absolutely appalled. He seems to think Jean Loo just absolutely destroyed him, and while Jean Loo’s talent is impressive, you wouldn’t exactly call it “swoon-worthy.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, “that’s actually really fucking sick.”

Jean Loo’s smug grin seems to falter a bit, almost like Jean Loo didn’t actually expect such a genuine reaction. Sure, he may think highly of himself, but it’s not often he gets praised for his talents. Jean Loo quickly recovers and barks out a laugh, shrugging.

“Child’s play,” Jean Loo says nonchalantly and you roll your eyes at his response alone, “Jean Loo can do better than that, but he thought of being kind today to spare Johnny the humiliation of heartbreak.”

Jean Loo clears his throat and points at you, grinning triumphantly.

“Jean Loo has stolen your bitch!”

You pause mid-applause, blinking in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“Now wait just a minute, frenchie!” Johnny interjects, leaving you stunned as you process Jean Loo’s sudden exclamation, “she ain’t no bitch and she certainly ain’t yours!”

You’d prefer the application of what’s “certain” to be the other way around, but you appreciate him correcting Jean Loo either way.

“Non? Y/N has already been charmed, Johnny Trash. She’s absolutely taken by Jean Loo’s impressive rap skills. Watch and weep as I sweep her off her feet!”

You can’t even begin to protest as Jean Loo pulls you close. You brace to be picked up, but Johnny’s quicker than Jean Loo and he pulls you to his chest instead. He’s got a firm grip on your arm, but it’s not enough to hurt you.

“Get yer grubby hands off her! You got no right treatin’ her like a trophy you just won,” Johnny huffs and Jean Loo pulls your other arm to drag you right back to his chest.

“Jean Loo thinks she’s a very beautiful trophy. Is it not fair for a man to believe a woman’s heart can be won?” Jean Loo shoots back, but Johnny is quick to tug you right back over.

“You ain’t the one she was holdin’ in the shower a week ago! I’ve already stolen her heart, Jean Loo!”

Jean Loo scoffs and pulls you right back to his chest.

“Pah! That doesn’t make you a charmer; that makes you a creep! Why were you spying on her in the shower?” Jean Loo snorts and Johnny Splash goes red, tugging you back over to him.

“I am the shower, dumbass!”

You sigh as you endure a game of tug of war, you being the rope, of course. Your shoulders start to ache from the insistent tugging back and forth and you’re already getting a headache from their bickering. You can only pray that someone will eventually spare you from getting both your arms ripped off before the two start forgetting to be gentle with their grips on your arms.

Luck hasn’t been on your side recently, but it is now.

“What the hell is going on in here!?” You look to see Amir standing at his post by the sink, his upper lip curled up and his nose scrunched with disgust as he looks between the two men who annoy him most in the entire household. His eyes then meet your and he immediately softens his expression. He steps closer and places his hands gently on your shoulders, walking you away from the two artists. You welcome the non-gripping touch with a sigh of relief.

“If you think any of this is charming, I can guess very well that the two of you will die alone,” Amir scoffs once he turns back to them, letting you stand behind him and avoid his wrath, which you appreciate. You tilt your head to look past him and watch as both boys get scolded. Johnny looks like a kicked puppy, his head ducked a bit from humiliation. Jean Loo has his arms crossed like a petulant child, a glare hardened on his face. What they both share is an embarrassed blush across their faces.

“Shoo! To your rooms! Both of you!” Johnny turns immediately and retreats to the shower, disappearing from your view. Jean Loo opens his mouth to argue, but Amir glares him down, “Ah, ah, ah! Go!”

Jean Loo scoffs and turns away, returning to his own object. Amir lets out a heavy breath and turns to face you, rubbing his temples.

“I apologize, joonam. I would have stepped in sooner, but I was busy elsewhere upstairs,” Amir says before gently caressing the sides of your arms, “are you hurt? They were pulling you quite a lot.”

You smile softly, relaxing at the gentle touch that brushes along your arms.

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy,” you chuckle and Amir sighs, breathing out a laugh.

“Ignore those idiots. Neither of them has a right to you. No one does,” Amir says, “though I’m sure they were just getting caught up in their hatred for each other. You are as free as a bird…a very beautiful one at that.”

With that, Amir leans forward and presses a loving kiss to your forehead. You blink in surprise before melting. Feeling the melt and small lean forward, Amir raises an eyebrow and gently nudges your lean further towards him, letting you fall into his arms as he supports you up, pressing soft kisses to your head.

“Long day?” Amir asks with a teasing smile, one you hardly catch as you close your eyes and relax further into his embrace.

“It hasn’t even started and I’m already exhausted…” You sigh.

“Yes, well, you’ve been spending every day in bed, azizam. You need to reactivate your body,” Amir says, one hand gently rubbing along your back, “a body this beautiful should not be wasted away in bed.”

You smile a little against the tanned skin of his neck and gently wrap your arms around his body.

“Can I at least waste it away in your arms?”

Amir is momentarily stunned by your clever flirt, blinking a little in surprise. He recovers and chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Clever,” Amir muses before holding you a little tighter, “not all day, but for the time being…of course.”

You stay there for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. His hand gently rubs your back while the other stays hooked around your waist. He presses gentle kisses along the side of your face. He has quite the warm embrace.

It isn’t long before you finally get yourself to pull away with a small sigh, smiling gratefully up at Amir.

“Thank you…”

“No, thank you,” Amir says, reaching out and gently tracing his knuckles along the side of your face, “I didn’t think I’d get to hold you in my arms today, but I have been unexpectedly blessed.”

You chuckle softly, charmed at his words. Stepping out of his arms, you let your hands slide down to hold his, squeezing them gently.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” you muse and Amir hums, his eyes lidded as he admires you.

“Anytime, azizam…”

You turn to leave the bathroom before Amir speaks up, taking a small step forward.

“Take care of yourself today. Make sure you get up and get your body moving so you aren’t so exhausted all the time, joonam.”

You chuckle at his gentle nagging and turn to face him as you leave the bathroom.

“I’ll take care of myself,” you assure him before turning and leaving. Amir watches you go, huffing softly and rolling his eyes. He casts a glare towards the toilet and shower before disappearing into his own room.

────୨ৎ────

“It’s disgusting. I can’t watch her do it,” Friar Errol sneers as he sits across from you at the dining table, watching you take a bite of bacon from yesterday’s breakfast that you reheated in the microwave. Two sins in one.

“You’re so dramatic,” Beverly snorts as she sets a glass down at your side, having grabbed you some juice to refresh yourself with. Non-alcoholic, of course. You don’t feel like drinking that early. It’s only midday.

It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to see Beverly doing alright. Easier to say, sober. She seemed a little on edge when you first approached her, a sense of humiliation in her eyes, knowing you’ve seen her at her worst. Even with such an elephant in the room between the two of you, you didn’t bring it up once. You appreciate when people don’t bring up your fingers when you don’t want to talk about it, so why would you put her in that position?

“I’m not dramatic,” Friar Errol says firmly, his eyes trained on the bacon as you take another bite, “I’m pure…something you will just never understand.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, setting your bacon down.

“Those words don’t sound as manly as you think they do,” you muse and Beverly snorts as she slips into the seat beside you. Fiar Errol curls his upper lip up with distaste towards you, tilting his head away.

“I'd describe myself as pious and clean. As long as I am those things, I am content with any other word you wish to try and break me down with,” Friar Errol says in a matter-of-fact tone. Beverly raises an eyebrow, grinning.

“So, little bitch applies? Is that what you’re saying?” 

You smirk and hold a fist up, which Beverly bumps against hers without hesitation. Errol looks unimpressed as his eyes dart between you two.

“Your little insults will do nothing to stray me from my path to righteousness,” Errol grumbles and you take another bite of bacon.

“I’m just saying. You’re missing out,” you muse.

“I’m very certain I’m not. Even if I am, I’m happy to ‘miss out’ on sinning.”

You had removed your gloves to eat, not wanting to get them sticky or filthy with the oils and grease Friar Errol so heavily despises. You don’t fail to notice the number of times Errol looks at your hands, but he says nothing. Really, he’s just glaring at your hands. You have yet to figure out if he’s upset at your body for doing such a frightening thing, which is admirable, or if he’s glaring at your hands because he thinks they’re disgusting and weird, which is less than admirable.

“How about alcohol?” Beverly asks, leaning in, “Do you drink? No grease in that.”

Friar Errol raises an eyebrow at her question and sighs, deciding to humor the two of you.

“I drink wine. I do not get drunk. That is simply it,” Errol says. You can’t imagine him drunk. Well, you’d like to. It’s a funny thought. You’re sure he’s either a joy or even more insufferable.

“You don’t wanna at least try?” Beverly asks and Friar Errol scoffs softly.

“I’ve seen you get drunk plenty. You drink enough for both of us and you hardly seem to enjoy it. Why would I?”

Beverly’s smile fades at his words and her expression hardens. You grimace, knowing Friar Errol probably didn’t intend to really hurt Beverly with his words, but knowing that he’s a “tough love” kind of guy, he probably intended a little sting. You rest your hand on her shoulder as you speak.

“I think getting drunk wouldn’t go against any of your teachings of avoiding oils and grease. I’m sure you’ll ascend to the pearly gates no matter what,” you chuckle, trying to save the conversation, “besides, if all fails, just pray a bunch after. Confess your sins and whatnot. Live a little, Errol.”

Friar Errol stares at you, seemingly uninterested in anything you’re saying.

“Do you take me for a fool? Is my religion a game to you?”

“Of course not,” you say, rubbing gentle circles into Beverly’s back, who seems to have recovered well from his words, “I’m just saying you can afford to have fun every once in a while.”

“And burn myself into all of your memories as a fool? I know what you’re doing. You’re only trying to convince me it’s ‘no big deal’ to see me at my lowest and use it to downplay the power of my faith,” Errol says firmly before straightening himself up, “I will not stand for it. It won’t happen.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t you not care what people think of you because you know your teachings and faith are true? Who cares what anyone else thinks? So what if you get drunk and act stupid? We all have. If anything, people will connect to you more. Similar life experiences and all.”

“Besides, you’ll enjoy yourself. And when the hangovers come to kill ya, I know some amazing hangover killers.”

Friar Errol falls silent. To your surprise, he seems to be considering it. His hands twitch a little where they rest, clasped on the dining table. He furrows his eyebrows, looks to your plate, and then meets your eyes. He then pushes to stand, looking away.

“I will ponder the idea,” he says simply before walking away.

You and Beverly watch him go before exchanging glances. Beverly snorts and you join in on her laughter.

“He’s the most ominous man I’ve ever met,” Beverly chuckles and you shake your head, your laughter slowly dying as you catch your breath.

“I’d love to see him drunk. Not only because I’m sure it’ll be fucking hilarious, but I know he’ll finally relax for once,” you muse and Beverly leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I’d love to teach him how to have a great time. He desperately needs it,” Beverly chuckles and you nod in agreement.

You continue to eat your food, silence falling over the two of you. Beverly’s eyes occasionally flick to you here and there, but she seems to hold back what she wants to say. You finish the food on your plate and look towards Beverly, finally catching her eye. She stares at you for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry I’ve been…making an idiot out of myself recently. I just…” Beverly pauses before sighing to get the tension off her chest, “I make dumb decisions and…I’m not used to being able to face the people who saw those dumb decisions. I think you’re really cool and…I don’t want you to think I’m a total alcoholic.”

You smile reassuringly and you move your hand to rub her back gently. You lean a bit closer.

“Hey,” you say gently, helping her raise her head a bit with more confidence, “I went to college, alright? I was friends with a ton of people who were fucking party animals.”

Beverly scoffs out a soft laugh at your words, the tone for the conversation already feeling much less tense and more relaxed.

“I had a roommate who was a partyholic and…I guess you could say alcoholic. There wasn’t one weekend she wouldn’t spend hammered out of her mind and I had to hold her hair back when she was keeled over the toilet way more times than I can count,” you pause, “...and she was my friend…and I miss her every god damn day because she was dope as hell and I wasn’t going to let her bad habits define who she was to me.”

You trail off and soften your gaze, reaching up and gently brushing your fingers along her fluid hair. You admire the cool feeling against your whitened fingers, brushing along the orange strands.

“I think you’re cool as hell, too…even if you have a bad habit. We all have bad habits,” you assure her, your smile becoming warmer as your gaze focuses off of her hair and back onto her face, “and that’s okay. It doesn’t define who we are.”

Beverly hasn’t been able to wipe the smile off her face since you started talking. She slowly nods once you finish, seemingly biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check before she chuckles softly and looks away.

“Okay,” she breathes out, “now I think you’re really fucking cool.”

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

word count: 4.9k

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[sillygoosedoodlez]

I dunno guys, I think I might like Amir, but I'm not sure, though

[yesandpeeps]

A little obsessed with Dorian and Lucario rn

[fatal-dr0id]

╭┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╮

⟢ Sugar & Spice, Love & Hate

⋆˚࿔ Date Everything! Fanfiction

╰┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╯

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter Index 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

────୨ৎ────

“A life goals corkboard?” Volt hums as he leans against the bar counter across from you, tilting his head to the side, “That’s sweet. Making a big change in your life, huh?”

”Eh…” you shrug, slowly swirling the drink resting on the counter in front of you around, watching the condensation dripping along the side of the glass smear along the bar, “I guess? I mean, this whole new…dateviator thing has already caused a big change in my life on its own. I more just joined in on Penelope’s board to try and have a solid plan on something I want to get better at in life.”

Volt’s grin slowly grows and he nods a bit as he speaks, “people?”

”People.” You affirm with a weak laugh, “people are hard…”

”Indeed they are, live wire,” Volt chuckles as he watches you slump forward a bit. He leans forward a little, as well, trying to meet your level, “You’re doing well so far.”

”Yeah, but the people in my house actually want to talk to me and seem to like me already. People in the real world aren’t like you guys.”

Volt hums as he nods, standing up straight again and tapping his fingers along the bar’s surface.

”I suppose that’s true. I’m sure not a single soul outside this house can match my charm and good looks…” Volt teases and you raise your head to meet his gaze, grinning right back.

”Not in a million years.”

As Volt laughs, pleased by your response, Eddie walks up beside him, tossing a rag over his shoulder.

”Volt, can you check out today’s open mic schedule? I have no idea who’s performing today…if anyone at all,” Eddie sighs and Volt pats his back, nodding.

”That I can do, spark. I’m sure at least Johnny will be in good company tonight,” Volt muses as he turns to walk away, leaving you alone with Eddie whose eyes are following Volt’s departure.

”How’s it going, Eddie?” You ask, shifting your attention fully to him. He meets your gaze and allows his shoulders to slump a bit once more, breathing out a heavy breath as he rests his elbows against the counter and leans against it a bit, shuffling his feet a bit further behind him to be at a more comfortable lean.

”As it always goes,” he grumbles out, “how about you?”

”Same as I last saw you yesterday,” you respond, twirling around your drink again, “though, I’m on a time constraint today. Timothy wants me in bed in about an hour.”

A small smirk tugs at the corners of Eddie’s lips and he nods, looking away.

”He seems like the kind of guy who’d go to bed at nine,” he chuckles and you grin, nodding.

”I couldn’t believe it when he told me. I felt like a child again. I haven’t had a nine o’clock bedtime since I was seven.”

Eddie allows his grin to grow and he chuckles again, one foot scuffing lazily back and forth on the ground below him.

”Why’s he got you on a schedule, anyway?”

“I dunno…he seems really passionate about helping me schedule my day-to-day plans and I didn’t want to make him upset,” you say, resting your chin on your hand as you recall how happy Timothy looked while you two were making your schedule for the day. He held it in, but you could see the way his tail had been flicking with excitement as you played a good sport the entirety of him scheduling your day.

”People-pleaser…” Eddie mumbles with a grin and you scrunch your nose up at him with a playful smile back.

”Yeah, I’m trying not to piss off the objects that make up my house,” you snort in response, “say I piss you off. I’m living in the dark and risking electrocution anytime I touch anything with a power source.”

Eddie laughs at your statement, covering his mouth with his hand a bit as he shakes his head.

”Right. Maybe me, but I’m not sure Volt would ever get pushed enough to want to do something that drastic,” Eddie muses and you tilt your head to the side.

”You’d do that Eddie? How rude.”

Eddie meets your gaze and bites his cheek a bit, but he knows he can’t do anything to settle the grin that’s been on his face the entire conversation.

”I’d do it now out of spite if it weren’t for the fact that powering down this whole house would be a disaster on both me and Volt,” he chuckles, pushing off the counter a bit to straighten himself up.

”You owe me a dance, you know?”

Eddie pauses in the midst of straightening himself up and he clenches his jaw a bit, scoffing out a small laugh.

”Not tonight.”

“But what if tonight?”

”No…”

His warning tone only makes you grin, eager to push further. You can tell he’s amused too, though, he tries his best to hide it.

“Come on.”

”It’s not happening.”

”You promised.”

”I did not promise. I agreed.”

”Same thing.”

”It’s not the same thing. I’m taking back my agreement.”

”That’s a declaration of war, Eddie.”

”Oh yeah? For what cause? Dancing?”

”Yeah, like the plot of Footloose.”

Volt returns to the bar and sees you and Eddie going back and forth. He can see that determined grin on your face as you relentlessly push at Eddie’s buttons, buttons that don’t quite upset Eddie, but rather make him relent with a tired grin as he responds to each childish remark like a parent scolding a child. Volt slows his approach as he looks between the two of you, slowly smirking and leaning against the counter as he watches.

”I don’t think that’s the same thing.”

“You’re making dancing illegal.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

”You are, too.”

“Am not.”

”Are too.”

”We’re not doing this.”

Volt finally slides in closer and bumps his hip against Eddie.

”Lord, you two. Get a room~” Volt chuckles and you only laugh as your banter is finally interrupted. Eddie lets out a groan as he rolls his eyes, looking at Volt.

”The last thing I need is for you to be picking at me, too.” Eddie grumbles and Volt raises an eyebrow and looks to Eddie, then to you.

”Who’s to say I won’t have your side? What are the grounds of this argument?”

”Eddie won’t dance with me.”

Volt’s eyes go from you right back to Eddie and he smirks.

”Oh, never mind. I’m most definitely on her side.”

Eddie scoffs and shakes his head.

”Volt, you out of anyone else knows the best that I can’t dance.”

“Yes you can, Eddie. You don’t dance, but you can sway,” Volt purrs and Eddie just rolls his eyes.

”It’s embarrassing.”

You shake your head quickly as you finish your drink and set the glass on the bar.

”It’s not! I can’t dance either and I was having a great time with Volt last night,” you argue but Eddie only raises an eyebrow.

”Yeah, but Volt can dance. If neither of us can dance, we both look stupid,” Eddie argues and you find yourself wanting to bite back, but you only let out a dramatic groan and heavy sigh.

”Fine! You hate me.”

Eddie sighs and Volt laughs softly.

”So cruel, Eddie…” Volt teases, as well. Eddie only leans off the bar and turns to walk away.

”I’m done with this conversation…” he grumbles, though you see as he turns to head in the back, Eddie has an unmistakable grin on his face that he’s trying to fight off. You find yourself smiling as you watch him go, glad that he seems to enjoy your presence despite acting as if he doesn’t. After all, Volt is the closest person to him and he treats Volt with the same kind of gruffness. You’re learning how to differentiate hate and begrudging enjoyment real quick.

”Another drink, live wire?” Volt asks as he slides your glass away from you and you shake your head.

”Just a water,” you say and he nods, turning away to grab you ice-cold water to settle your thirst for the night.

As he focuses behind the bar a bit away from you, you feel a seat being occupied at your side and look over. A grin makes its way on your face as the softness of your smile is quickly replaced with amusement.

”Looks like someone’s happy to see me.” Tony chuckles as he settles beside you. You chuckle and rest your elbows on the bar.

”You’re fun to talk to,” you admit, plain and simple. Tony’s already lazy grin only grows at your words and he shrugs.

”I know. I’m a joy,” he says before looking at Volt as he returns with your water, “how’s it goin’, Volt?”

”It’s going well,” Volt says as he slides you your water, “keeping our lovely homeowner here entertained before she has to go to bed.”

Tony raises an eyebrow and moves his gaze back to you.

”Bedtime? This early?”

”You wouldn’t believe how early my dinner ended up being, either,” you snort and Tony scoffs out a laugh.

“What, you also get up early or something’?”

”Nope. Got up pretty late today,” you say as you sip your water and further confusion settles over Tony’s face.

”I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you be spendin’ the night out late, then?”

”Timothy Timepiece,” is all you need to say for Tony’s face to fall to disgruntled annoyance as he rolls his eyes.

”Oh God, of course. You lettin’ that pussycat tell you what to do?” Tony snorts and you shrug, swirling your glass around on the counter and listening to the soft clinking of the ice cubes against the glass that barely reaches your ears over the bar’s music.

”I guess so,” you sigh and Tony shakes his head.

”Nah. No way in Hell I’m lettin’ you retire to ya bed in an hour,” Tony says firmly, poking the side of your head, “you’re gonna have fun tonight.”

You grin and let your head loll to the side a little with each poke.

”I had fun last night, Tony.”

”Who’s to say you can’t have fun every night!?” Tony argues, looking at Volt, “back me up ‘ere.”

”If she wants to follow a strict sleep schedule, she can,” Volt says simply as he leans against the bar and Tony waves him off, turning back to you.

”Ah, ignore him,” he says and you laugh, shaking your head.

”Tomorrow night, okay? I’m gonna stick with Timothy’s rules today,” you pat Tony’s arms, stifling a laugh at the way his face crumples into a disappointed pout. Like a dog watching you eat a piece of chicken you’d been dangling over its face for a few minutes.

”Boring…” he drawls out and you roll your eyes, turning back to Volt.

”Figure out who’s on open mic?” You ask and Volt nods.

”Johnny Splash is singing again…as always.”

Tony scrunches his nose up a bit and looks to the empty stage.

”God, someone needs to tell that kid his dream ain’t workin’ out,” Tony chuckles, “get one of those long canes backstage and yank him off stage when he’s hitting those high notes.”

You can’t help but snort, covering your mouth. You feel bad. Johnny’s such a sweet kid, and who are you to be mean after the time you two spent in the shower that morning, but you’d gotten a sneak peek of his wonderful singing before. You can’t help but find Tony’s words funny…

”She knows what I’m talkin’ about,” Tony says with a grin, motioning to you. You bump a fist against his hand, smirking.

”I know what you’re talkin’ about,” you echo and Tony looks at you with a wry grin.

”You mockin’ me?”

Before you can say much else, you feel a hand settle on your lower back and hear a very familiar voice speak up behind you. Speak of the devil.

”Well, hey there,” Johnny says as he settles behind you, his chest pressing to your shoulders. He looks down and his gaze falls on you, “Didn’t know you were in attendance tonight.”

You soften your smile as you gaze up at Johnny’s already gentle eyes. God, you can’t be mean to him. Not when he’s smiling at you like that.

”Yup. In all my glory,” you chuckle, feeling a shiver run up your spine just from processing his hand on your lower back, “I hear you’re putting on a performance tonight.”

Johnny grins sheepishly, his face heating up a bit as he tugs at his collar with his free hand.

”Yeah, but…gee, the pressure sure is on me knowin’ this pretty little lady’s watching’ me in the audience,” Johnny chuckles and you nudge him with your elbow a bit.

”Hey, I’m sure you’ll do great, Johnny,” you say and Johnny’s smile softens once more. He moves his hand from your back to your hair, ruffling it gently.

”Thanks, sweetheart. Your confidence’ll definitely keep me shining’ up there on that stage,” Johnny says before looking up at Volt, “I was lookin’ for ya.”

Volt nods and pushes off the counter.

”Of course, of course,” Volt hums, moving around the counter. Johnny moves to follow Volt as he leads him backstage. Seems like he’s getting ready to go up.

”You’re a great liar, ya know,” Tony says and you punch his arm.

”I’m hardly lying,” you scoff, “I do think he’ll do great. In his own unique way of greatness.”

Tony grins and rubs his arm.

”Right, of course. Really found a way around that one,” he snickers. You return his grin and wag a scolding finger at him.

”Be nice, Tony. I’m sure Johnny’s just fine on stage,” you say and Tony cocks his eyebrows a bit, taking your water from its place in front of you. He takes a sip and looks to the stage.

”You ain’t seen nothin’ yet…” he chuckles.

Before you can say much else, you see Volt walk onto the stage. He taps the microphone a few times before flashing his charming grin at the audience, a grin you adore with all your heart.

”Ladies, gentlemen, and other fine people we have in attendance tonight,” Volt begins, his smooth voice echoing through the bar, “for tonight’s performance, I welcome a returning favorite of the Breaker Box, Johnny Splash, to the stage.”

There’s a small round of applause and you join in, shifting on your stool to better face the stage. You see Johnny approach the microphone with a big toothy grin, nodding to the audience.

”Thank you, thank you!” He straightens himself up and places his hands on the microphone, “This uh…this song I’m gonna sing a cappella for you all. I wrote it myself.”

”Like every other one he’s performed…” Tony mumbles and you punch his arm again, shutting him up. You shoot him a friendly glare as you pick up your water glass and take a sip, your gaze falling back on Johnny as he takes a deep breath and begins singing.

And the moment he begins singing, you choke on your drink. Involuntarily, of course, but you cover your mouth to stifle your coughing as Tony turns to look at you and starts silently wheezing with laughter just from your reaction. You feel awful, but you can’t really help it. You most certainly weren’t expecting Johnny’s singing voice.

It’s like someone mocking the way Elvis Presley sings, just like how Johnny often mocks the way he speaks, too. Though, everything is just…wrong. He can’t meet the right pitch for anything and his voice is quite…squeaky. There are a lot of cracks in there and you can’t tell which ones are added for style and which ones are an accident. He sure sounds passionate for one, you’ll give him that. You wipe your mouth and set your glass down, watching Johnny with a dumbfounded expression. You see the audience mostly ignores it, clearly used to his antics by now. Tony is just admiring the show, leaning back with his usual lazy grin on his face. You see Volt standing by the side of the stage, watching with a wince and a forced smile of pity.

Soon enough, Johnny wraps up and thanks the audience. He receives less applause than he did before, except that Tony’s applause is much louder than it was at the start.

”Yeah, Johnny boy!” Tony calls out and you raise your hand, making Tony flinch away from receiving a third smack on his arm.

You yourself begin to clap, meeting Volt’s eyes for just a moment, exchanging mutual sympathy before Volt turns back to Johnny stepping off the stage and pats his arm.

You finally turn to look at Tony who’s still chuckling, leaning back on the bar.

”God, it gets better every damn time…”

”Wow…” you say and Tony meets your gaze, his grin growing.

”I know, right?”

”I just…I wasn’t expecting that…” you finally admit and Tony nods.

”I’ve seen it a million times and it still catches me off guard,” he says, turning back to greet Johnny who’s walking right up to the two of you, “Heya, Johnny.”

”What’d you guys think?” Johnny asks eagerly and you give him a sheepish smile.

”You sure sound passionate up there, Johnny,” you say, avoiding an honest answer, but avoiding a lie, as well. It fools Johnny all the same as he grins and seems pleased with your answer.

”I sure am. I think that’s one of my best performances so far,” he says. It can get worse?

”Oh, I agree,” Tony says with a nod. Now you really want to smack him a third time for his sarcastic remarks right in front of Johnny’s face, all of which are flying over Johnny’s head, but smacking him will only make it obvious. Instead, you tighten your smile and nod.

”You did great up there,” you affirm and Johnny looks like a kid who’s just won a million bucks. He gives you a big toothy grin and blushes bashfully.

”Shucks, maybe the next song I write should be about you, darlin’,” Johnny says with a breathy laugh. Despite the very unique performance he gave up on that stage, you can’t help but soften your smile at the idea of him writing you a song. Whether he can sing or not, you’re sure the lyrics will be tooth-rottingly sweet.

“That’d be really sweet of you, Johnny…” you say gently. Johnny looks away, feeling his face get more and more heated at your soft words and batting eyelashes.

”Well, I-I probably should—uh…head out for the night,” he shifts awkwardly and gives you a sheepish smile, “come by this weekend and I’ll have that song ready to go for ya, sugar.”

Your grin slowly widens and you give Johnny a firm nod.

”I’ll be there,” you say. Johnny returns your nod and moves to walk past you, mumbling soft goodbyes under his breath as he passes by. Tony watches him go and shifts his gaze to you with a raised eyebrow.

”Butterin’ ‘em up, huh?” He snorts and you swivel back towards the counter in your seat.

”Oh, shut up. Don’t be mean.”

”I ain’t bein’ mean! I was bein’ nice to him. I always am,” Tony huffs and you snort, rolling your eyes.

”I could practically taste the sarcasm,” you say. Tony rests his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his hand and leaning towards you.

”I’m sure that’s an awful taste on yer tongue, eh? I could give ya somethin’ better to taste if you’d like—“

You cut him off with a firm smack over his head and he juts his head down with a grunt of surprise. He raises his head back up and rubs it, pouting sheepishly.

“Jeez, I was kiddin’…” he grumbles as you slip out of your seat and give him a playful glare.

”No more dirty talk out of you tonight, Tony. You sound like a sleaze,” you tease him, earning a sharp huff from Tony as he looks away. He’s pouting like a child. You roll your eyes and relent, leaning in and gently pressing your hand to the other side of his face. You pull him in to meet you halfway and leave a gentle kiss to his cheek. It’s a nice sort of feeling, his stubbled jawline poking at your chin a little when you kiss him. You pull away and see Tony’s slightly wide eyes, not expecting a response like that after smacking him over the head, “Don’t be up too late, alright?”

Tony turns his head to meet your gaze better, his cheeks burning with embarrassment that he let a simple kiss on the cheek catch him off guard. He then immediately gets over it, his expression melting into that familiar lazy smile.

”Loud and clear, boss,” he says and you ruffle his dark hair gently.

”Goodnight, Tony.”

”Sleep tight, hot stuff.”

────୨ৎ────

While rounding the corner from the circuit breaker’s closet, you feel that familiar flutter in your chest that makes you look down and squeeze over your heart a little in minor confusion. In doing so, you nearly run into someone who appears rather suddenly in the hallway. Skidding your heels to a stop, you steady yourself and huff softly in surprise, looking up to see Dorian staring back down at you. He must’ve just come from the dateviators.

”Sorry, love. Shoulda timed my entrance a bit better, eh?” Dorian chuckles softly, the sound rumbling from his chest. It makes your smile soften seeing a very familiar, comforting face. You’re not sure why Dorian has that effect on you, but he certainly does. Maybe it’s because he was the first to explain everything to you. Maybe it’s because he’s tried his best to take over Skylar’s position of caring for the dateviators and your experience seeing everyone. Or, maybe it’s your memory of him cradling your head when you were in and out of consciousness after being shocked.

Either way, seeing him right before retiring to bed was a peaceful sight to see, especially in the tranquil silence of your upstairs hallway.

”It’s alright,” you hum with a small smile, “…how’s Skylar?”

”Asleep right now,” Dorian says, looking to the rather sad pair of sunglasses resting on the hallway’s table’s surface, “she seems alright. She most definitely needs to stay in bed, but health-wise…she's the same as she was before.”

You nod solemnly, twisting your shirt a bit with anxious nerves bubbling through your body. Your eyes follow his gaze to the sunglasses.

”I wish I could help…”

”You talkin’ ‘round this house is enough help. Skylar always seems much happier when she hears you’re makin’ close friends even without her guidance,” Dorian says with a reassuring smile, albeit looking a bit tired. That’s something you don’t brush off.

”You look exhausted,” You say softly, reaching up before you can stop yourself and gently cupping one side of his face. He seems to hesitate before leaning into your touch, closing his eyes a bit.

”I’m…a bit drained, I suppose,” he sighs, opening his eyes to meet your gaze again, “just worryin’ is all.”

You nod, sympathizing with his concern and feeling it a bit yourself, too.

”I know…I’m so sorry. I wish I could take back what I did,” you breathe out and Dorian shakes his head.

”What happened,” he corrects you gently, “…you didn’t do nothin’, dear. A little mistake is all that occurred.”

Dorian pats his hand over yours before gently sliding it off his face. To your surprise, he doesn’t let go. Rather, he opts to just squeeze your hand gently, holding it instead.

”How are you feelin’?” Dorian asks and you hesitate at his question before shrugging.

”I feel…alright,” you say, “also worried, but everyone around here sure is doing their part in distracting me from that.”

Dorian’s grin slowly grows, clearly pleased to hear that.

”That’s good,” he says, his eyes drifting to your hands where they’re clasped. His eyebrows slowly furrow, a small look of realization dawning on him a bit. Your eyebrows follow suit in furrowing.

”What?”

Dorian’s gaze flicks over your hand as he shifts his grip to better see your fingertips. He then speaks, releasing your hand gently.

”Spent too much time in the shower this mornin’?” Dorian asks and your face goes red. You pull your hand to your chest and sputter a bit.

”I-I…God, why does everyone have to…” You trail off as you look down at your own hand and realize Dorian wasn’t trying to pick at you and Johnny.

No, instead you realize he’s more concerned that you spent too much time in the shower letting the heat and steam get to your body. It’s hardly noticeable at first but you can see that the tips of your fingers are…white? Not a blank white, but definitely lighter than they’re meant to be. It looks like there isn’t blood flow on the tips of your fingers. You stare at them for a long moment, raising an eyebrow.

”Would…my fingers pruning up cause this?” You ask slowly and Dorian gives a half-hearted shrug.

”No, I…just spit-ballin’,” he says as he stares at the same hand you're examining. He then follows your gaze to your other hand as you hold it up. Same on that side, too, “frostbite?”

”I’ve been inside all day. Besides, it’s hardly cold enough yet outside to cause this,” you say with a small shake of your head. Dorian hums and you finally look up from your hands to see his expression. That familiar look of concern. You immediately push your own worry into your stomach seeing it and drop your hands, “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll check out the HVAC tomorrow and maybe ask about turning the heat up.”

Dorian’s eyes flick up to meet yours, a hesitant expression on his face. He then nods, allowing you a small grunt of content.

”Alright,” he sighs, “you get some sleep, then. Keep your hands warm tonight.”

You smile and nod, moving past Dorian towards your room.

”I will. Goodnight, Dorian,” you say and he follows your figure with his gaze, a small smile forming on his tired expression.

”Goodnight, Y/N.”

As you walk into your room, closing the door behind you, you hold your hands up again to see your fingertips. You flex your fingers out and in, spreading them and and then closing the gaps as you feel your hand around a little. Your fingers feel fine and are moving with no issue. As you press your fingertips together, you notice there isn’t any numbness or pain, either. Just discolorization.

You shrug it off, feeling more reassured that there isn’t any difference in touching or feeling anything. Maybe you are just cold. You’ll talk to the HVAC tomorrow. For now, you need to get to bed.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

word count: 4.5k

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[joydoesathing]

when you forget to give your homies blankets at a sleepover

[g00d--m0urning]

I'm a Mommy, I'm a Mom. Mamacita (Date Everything SMAU)

instalment 3 of 'It Takes Two To Tango'

You've been feeling a little bad about yourself after giving birth to your kid(s). Your lovers are here to help you feel better.

CW for insecurities/talking about about oneself on Reader's end.

Featuring: Eddie & Volt, Dorian, Tony, Dunk, Curt & Rod, Amir, Barry, Chance, Hector, and Doug

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-----

@worlds-most-well-adjusted-hermit your request, my dear

[fatal-dr0id]

╭┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╮

⟢ Sugar & Spice, Love & Hate

⋆˚࿔ Date Everything! Fanfiction

╰┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╯

CHAPTER SIX

Chapter Index 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

────୨ৎ────

“There you are, live wire,” you hear a smooth chuckle by your ear.

As you tilt your head upwards to see the source of the rather charming voice, you see a man gazing right back down at you with a fond look in his sharp eyes. He has long, curly white hair that looks as if it’s made entirely of raw, hot electricity. He’s wearing what seems to be a white-wired button up with a vest adorning the same switches your circuit breaker has, a few seen on his sleek, black pants, as well. He’s wearing quite a large jacket over his shoulders, too. The jacket holds many outlets on it, some left open and others filled by various plugs and wires. He’s a rather striking man and has quite sharp features to match his eyes, though he doesn’t look evil or hateful of any sort. There’s a softness he holds in his gaze that lets you know Beverly was telling the truth from the very moment you stepped into that bar.

You are under good care in that bar.

”I understand the concept of stepping inside of a solid object can be tricky,” he chuckles softly, not at all minding your staring eyes, “you seemed like you needed a hand.”

”I did,” you breathe out, finally able to step away with a small blush dusting your cheeks, “Thank you. I was worried I looked like an idiot.”

He shakes his head with a small grin on his face.

”Not at all. You’ll get used to it, I promise,” he takes your hand back in his the moment you go to pull it away, “ah ah ah, I’m not done with you yet. You think I could let such an important new patron at my bar wander around unattended? I’m sure you’d like a nice tour.”

You gaze around the bar. Considering that, for the most part, you can see almost everything there really is to know from where you stand by the door, you’re sure it’s just an excuse for this man to charm you some more and possibly just hold your hand a little longer. But who are you to refuse?

You let the man gently pull you along, following alongside him as he begins to talk about the bar, their open-mic shows, and all sorts. You sit down at the bar after a small lap around the building and he leans against the bar at your side, resting his elbows behind him on the counter top.

“Oh, where are my manners? My name is Volt. I’m the owner of the bar.” Volt holds his hand out and you shake it. You enjoy each time your hand meets his. There’s a small spark of electricity that jitters through your body upon touching him. It doesn’t hurt, no, but rather makes you feel all giddy inside. He was quite the charmer.

”It’s very nice to meet you,” you say. Volt releases your hand and leans in, almost conspiring.

”I’ve always wondered when we might finally get the infamous homeowner as a patron to our bar. We have a nice little V.I.P section near the stage that is just calling your name.” Volt chuckles and you laugh softly along with him.

”Me? V.I.P? I just bought the house. You act like I’m some celebrity,” you chuckle and Volt merely shrugs, tilting his head to the side a little.

”Well, I can say with utmost certainty that you are quite a star. Besides, how else am I going to keep the most important piece of this household as a recurring guest without some bribery?” Volt teases and you laugh, shaking your head. You can’t help but blush at everything he was saying. He had quite the way with words and his voice was just the cherry on top.

”I think you’re more than enough to keep me coming back…” you flirt back at him which only seems to please Volt more as he chuckles and leans closer.

”Good, because I’m here twenty-four hours a day, darling.”

Before you can say much else, you hear a small scoff coming from behind the bar and turn your head to see another man, in an almost similar getup to Volt, standing watching you two. He’s holding a small notepad that he slipped onto the counter, a pen rested on it.

”Don’t tell me you’re already flirting with the homeowner,” the man grumbles and Volt just shrugs with a wry grin.

”I’m just helping her feel more comfortable, Eddie. I can’t help it if she’s just so utterly charming.” He was one to talk. The man had you swooning and swaying back and forth with every word. This Eddie guy, much more gruff than Volt, seems much less amused by his response.

”Well, if you’re gonna do it, at least not in front of me. It’s embarrassing to watch.” Eddie mumbles, looking back to his pen and paper. You swivel in your barstool to face him more, resting your elbows on the counter and pressing one of your hands under your chin.

”Who are you?” you ask, immediately intrigued by this ”Eddie” guy who wears a similar outfit to Volt. He has more of a blue button-up on, black and red wires covering over his sleeves and all bundled up in outlet-like cuffs. His vest is the same as Volts, though the labels and switches of the circuit-breaker look were more worn out. His hair is shorter, parted down the middle in black, loose waves. His hair is black, each strand almost looking like wires. He has stubble across his jawline and some hair above his upper lip, looking less taken care of than Volt. He raises an eyebrow as you quickly turn your attention to him, almost taken aback that you’ve switched your interest off of Volt and onto him.

”Eddie. Eddie Watts,” he introduces himself, “former owner of this bar.”

You nod slowly as you take in what he’s saying. You then look between him and Volt, looking both of them up and down slowly before asking, “are you guys…both…like…?”

”We’re both in charge of the circuit breaker, yes,” Volt hums, catching onto your questions, “it’s a difficult job, powering the whole house, so it takes two people.”

There’s an odd wave of relief that seems to minorly impact Eddie as Volt takes on the task of explaining it. Your eyes flick to Eddie as you see his shoulders sump ever so slightly and he busies himself back with his notepad. You nod slowly, choosing not to question the matter. It makes sense. Electricity was a pretty big part of your house and it must be a tiring job for just one person to handle it. You slowly turn your attention back to Eddie and lean forward on the counter a bit.

”What’s that?” you ask, focused on his notepad. He looks up and pauses before simply shrugging.

”Inventory?” he says, almost asking it as if you’re stupid for asking. You lean away a bit and nod slowly, feeling a little bad that Eddie seems more focused on getting his job done and you’re distracting him. As Eddie focuses back down on his task, Volt nudges your arm to take your attention off of him.

”Don’t mind him. Eddie’s a hard worker at the expense of his “people skills”. He’s a good guy, but he’s not the best at showing it,” Volt’s smile softens and he gently nudges your arm again, “he’s not annoyed by you, in case you’re worried…Eddie was actually quite excited at the idea of the homeowner coming into the bar.”

Eddie’s tanned face heats up a bit and he shoots a glare at Volt from across the bar.

”I was not. I didn’t even realize she started using the dateviators.” Eddie scoffs, but Volt only focuses his eyes on you, acting like he can’t hear him.

”He hurried to the back of the bar flustered when he heard you were right outside.” Volt says, making you snort softly as Eddie quickly decides his task log doing inventory was less important than shutting Volt up. He presses his hands into the counter where Volt was leaned against and hardens his glare on him.

”One more word out of you and I’m pulling you over the counter.” Eddie threatens, his face dusted crimson at Volt’s teasing. Volt only looks at him and grins.

”What? I’m just making our lovely patron know her presence is wanted here.” Volt hums and Eddie rolls his eyes, leaning back. His eyes flick to you and he pauses before sighing

“Yeah. Whatever.” Eddie turns away and grabs his notepad off the opposite counter before heading to the back, deciding to hurry off into hiding before Volt can tease him further. Volt watches him go with a grin, but you can see that grin soften a bit with a slightly worried furrow of his brow. He turns his gentle gaze to you and pushes off the counter.

”Make yourself comfortable, livewire. I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks past you and rounds the counter, “call for me if you need anything!”

His voice fades off as he disappears into the back room and you’re left alone at the bar, tapping your hands at its surface awkwardly. There’s some chatter and quite a few patrons in the bar that you don’t recognize. There’s a few faces here and there, but for the most part…all strangers to you. You can see eyes dart to meet you, but they quickly look away, as if just as awkward to approach you as you are to them. You’ve already met so many people that day...a bar full of new faces is just too much.

The anxiety of making a choice is quickly muffled as someone slips into the seat beside you, catching your eye almost instantly. The young woman smiles a big, toothy grin at you.

”Ain’t the music they got goin’ good?” she says with a bright smile before tilting her head to the side, “much better than their open mic nights when they get poor Johnny up on stage.”

Sitting there beside you was a lovely young woman of color, her hair cut short in a curly bob, the ends curling around her face near her chin. She’s wearing a shimmering yellow headband in her hair and has a record tilted over her head almost like one of those fascinator hats women wear at tea parties. She’s wearing a dress that’s winched at the waist and flowing down to her ankles, the design of the skirt part similar to records on a shelf and the top having dials as buttons. Lots of gold and black. She looks and talks as if she’s straight out of the twenties. Almost like a flapper or even a showgirl.

”I’ve only been hearing bad things about Johnny’s singing,” you chuckle, tilting your head to the side, “should I be worried?”

”Eh, he’s a kid with a dream. I think his passion’s good enough to enjoy it,” she gives you a toothy grin, “I’m Rainey!”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, nodding to her. She has this bright energy about her that is simply infectious. She seems like a radiant ball of the sun’s energy.

”Here to meet more people?” Rainey hums, casting her eyes around the lively bar. You shrug sheepishly.

”Not exactly…I was honestly hoping there wouldn’t be this many new faces. I’m kinda burnt out today,” you sigh softly, “seems like it’ll be impossible to recharge my social battery in this house…”

Rainey gives you a sympathetic smile and pats your shoulders gently, leaning in a bit closer.

”You got a lot of supporters here, Y/N. I can assure you that if you need a breather alone, we’ll give it to you. Besides, even if you got some loud mouths trying to bother you, Dorian will be good at usherin’ them right out.” Rainey assures you with a cheeky grin. You feel yourself begin to smile and you nod a little.

“Good to know…thanks, Rainey.”

Rainey nudges your shoulders a bit, looking back over to the people in the bar and then pausing as her eyes fix on someone. She then grins and rolls her eyes.

”Well, look what the cat dragged in…” she hums and you suddenly feel a heavy hand firmly pat your shoulder, sliding into a seat on your other side.

”Ay, what’s all that for? You two talking about me or somethin’?” a very familiar Jersey accent snorts. You look to your side and grin, resting her chin on your hand.

”How’s it going Tony?” you hum and he flashes you a toothy grin.

”Not too bad. Not too bad,” he grunts, shifting to sit up a bit straight and rest his arms on the bar. You notice he’s holding a rum and coke in his hands, clasping both hands around the glass as he leans forward a bit, looking around the bar space., “where’d the bartenders scoot off to?”

”Volt went to talk to Eddie in the back. I don’t know what about, but…” you’re cut off as the lights throughout the bar buzz and flicker. There’s a small pause in the conversations before people continue talking, but you notice Tony and Rainey exchange looks. You look between them before speaking.

”Was that…?”

”Eddie and Volt? Yeah…” Rainey hums. You pause before adding on.

”Are they…okay?” You ask, but Tony only shrugs and sips his drink.

”Probably. It happens all the time.” Tony grunts, reassuring you that they were fine, but you don’t forget the way he and Rainey exchanged looks earlier. Tony may seem like an idiot, but he also seems perfectly capable of keeping a secret.

”Right…” you whisper before you see someone come out from the back. It’s Eddie, running a hand through his messy, wired hair. He notices your presence at the bar was now accompanied with two other faces, faces he’s more familiar with.

”Am I missing the party?” Eddie scoffs with a lazy chuckle. Tony only grins upon seeing Eddie and Rainey’s worried expression softens a bit into a sad smile.

”Hiya, Eddie,” Rainey hums, “Volt still back there?”

Eddie nods as he settles in front of you three on his side of the bar, letting out a small sigh as he presses his hands into the surface to hold himself up as he slumps a bit.

”Yeah, he’s just takin’ a breather. Even a guy like him can get overwhelmed in this busy place and…he wants to act his best for our guest of honor.” he nudges his head to you, his eyes lolling over to rest on your face. You smile and chuckle softly.

”I feel famous,” you snort softly and Rainey responds with a laugh, placing her hands over your arm.

”That’s ‘cause you are! You take good care of this house now, after all. We all rely on you for our health and safe keeping. Why, you’re almost like…the mayor! Except not actually because that’s Celia.” Rainey giggles. Celia? You raise an eyebrow at that statement. Was there a mayor in your house? Why wasn’t it you? Though, through piecing it together in your head, you can only assume she’s the ceiling. That would make sense. She quite literally “oversees” everything.

”I’m hopin’ if I suck up enough, you’ll move me to live in yer bedroom~” Tony grins lazily, leaning closer to you. You blush and roll your eyes, chuckling.

”You push it and you’re going in the garage,” you shoot back, making Rainey laugh with small snorts and even earning a small chuckle from Eddie. Tony looks away, grumbling softly.

”…cold down there…” was all you make out before your attention is shifted to Volt finally coming back out behind the bar, grinning upon seeing a small group gathered by the bar.

”Well, isn’t this a treat?” Volt chuckles, stopping at Eddie’s side, “my favorite people all in together waiting for my return, hm?”

You can’t help but smile at Volt’s statement. The idea of already being one of his favorite people was endearing. It makes you blush a bit and laugh softly. You also notice how Tony and Rainey seem to have fit their way into the same category. It makes more sense that out of everyone in the bar, they were the only two who really seemed to care when the lights flickered. Maybe there really is something they know that you don’t. If you’re going to be one of Volt’s favorites, though, maybe you’ll find out soon enough.

You find yourself relaxing into the calming environment the four around you provide. Small jokes, smooth conversation, and suddenly you feel like you’re not a stranger to them at all. They don’t treat you any differently than they treat each other for the most part. They seem comfortable around you. Better yet, they seem to enjoy your company very well. When first hearing your house house was alive, a part of you had been somewhat anxious that your house would be full of strangers who are not at all looking to meet you, but being able to sit and talk with some of then, being seen as a friend rather than a stranger, you’re filled with a sense of peace and contentment.

You’re not surprised Tony is good friends with Eddie and Volt. You’re sure he spends quite a lot of time in the bar considering he’s located right next to it. Rainey, however, is someone you’re curious about. She seems to be closer to Tony first, but you’re almost positive you saw the record player downstairs by the dining table. She’s quite far from the three men. Nevertheless, despite the distance, she seems very close to them. If through Tony, that must be an essential pal for him. A guy like Tony sure needs a woman to keep him on track. He doesn’t seem the kind to make sound decisions.

That’s something very apparent as Tony turns to you and grins lazily.

”Who out of the whole house so far you thinking’ of bangin’?” he asks and Rainey reaches right over to you smack him over his head, making his head drop down and earning a grunt from him.

”Tony!” she scolds him and he rubs the back of his head, his grin more sheepish.

”It’s a joke question—a joke question!” he defends himself. You look to Eddie and Volt, Volt covering his mouth and looking away to try and hide his laughter while Eddie is just shaking his head in amusement.

”You should do a lap around the bar. Meet some more people,” Eddie says as he focuses his attention back on you, “I’ve been hearing your name tossed around the bar a bit tonight.”

You hesitate and look behind you to look over the bar space again. You open your mouth to answer, unsure of how to say you don’t feel like pushing your social battery anymore without sounding rude. Thankfully, Rainey steps in for you, her hand resting on your shoulder.

”She’s feelin’ pretty burnt out today. Maybe meetin’ more people can be a job for tomorrow.” Rainey hums and the answer easily satisfies Eddie. Besides, Eddie himself seems like he understands the depletion of social battery well. He isn’t very social himself.

”Don’t blame ya. I’m sure a trip to one room in this house alone is enough to make anyone lose their minds.” Eddie chuckles softly. He wasn’t too wrong about that. So far, you haven’t found peace anywhere except your bedroom and attic since you were able to see the objects in your house.

”Can be a pretty rowdy house. Not the best living situation for an introvert,” Tony snorts, sipping his drink. He pauses and then sets his glass down, leaning over to you, “you ain’t an introvert, are you?”

You smile weakly and shrug. You don’t necessarily think you’re an introvert. You grew up around other people and handled that pretty well. Though, you most certainly don’t view yourself as an extrovert. You're more of a “stay in” kind of person on a Friday night.

”Not really.” Tony sighs in relief at your response and slaps your back, nearly making you choke. He doesn’t understand his own strength well.

”Thank God. This would be your own personal hell if you were,” he laughs. Rainey gives you a sympathetic smile, her reassurance from earlier enough to make you feel a little better. You really do hope you can find moments of peace in a house like this. With as many people as you can assume there are…privacy seems near to impossible.

As time passes, Rainey and Tony excuse themselves to head out of the bar and the patrons around seem to slowly drift out as you near the end of the night. You’re so lost in your drink and chatting with Volt that it takes Eddie walking up and patting Volt on the back to cut you two out of it.

”Closin’ time. We gotta start cleaning up.” Eddie grunts and Volt casts a look over the bar, realizing it’s empty except for…well…you.

”My, how time flies,” Volt hums, his gaze falling on you with a fond grin, “how about a dance? We have all this space to ourselves, after all.”

You blush at his offer and smile sheepishly. You’re not too good at dancing.

”I don’t know. You guys gotta clean up and—“

”Come on, livewire. Just one song?” Volt’s rather convincing with his insistence. How can you say no to one dance? Especially when Volt is looking at you like that.

”Well…” you look to Eddie, concerned that he’s in need of Volt’s help. Eddie meets your eyes and just gives you a small smile, rolling his eyes and turning away.

”Alright alright. You two get one dance and then we really gotta close up.” Eddie says as he walks off. Before you can say much, Volt is already crossing around the bar and to your side. He holds his hand out to you and you slip yours into place, feeling that electric buzz on your skin from the electricity coursing within him.

He leads you from your seat and over to the small stage, stepping up onto it with you and placing you in the center. He then leaves your side to go play a song, leaving you patiently waiting. You see Eddie down in the dining space, wiping down tables and putting up stools.

”You dance much yourself?” You ask, making Eddie look up from his work in minor surprise that you’re talking to him. He looks around, almost wondering why Volt wasn’t at my side, and then settles his gaze back on you.

”No, I don’t dance.” Eddie finally responds.

”I don’t either,” you say with a small shrug, “we’d make a good duo on the dance floor.”

Eddie seems to bite his cheek a bit before letting go, allowing himself to huff out a laugh and look away.

”We’d look like idiots.”

Your smile grows a bit and you laugh softly. You can see this sort of softness within Eddie hidden behind tired eyes and a gruff voice. You can tell he’s a good guy, even if he may act like he’s not.

Volt finally returns to the stage, the sound of music finally hitting your ears. It’s smooth, slow jazz, wafting through the air around you and filling the bar with a sense of tranquility. Volt takes your hand once more and pulls you to his chest, his gaze softening on our anxious face.

”Not much of a dancer, I hear.” Volt chuckles and you look away, your face heating up.

”I hope that doesn’t disappoint you…” you say and Volt shakes his head.

”No no not at all. I’d be honored to teach you.” Volt hums as he places your hands on his shoulders and slides his to your waist, his fingers brushing back to support the small of your back, “this isn’t the waltz or anything. Sometimes all dancing needs is feeling the music and a bit of…swaying.”

As Volt speaks, he begins to step around the stage, leading you along with him as you two sway to the music, your feet following his. He’s sure to watch your feet for you, ensuring you don’t step on him nor trip over him. In doing so, you’re able to focus your eyes comfortably on his face and he’s very pleased with that. The music is quite soothing. You’ve always held comfort within jazz music. It’s quite enjoyable when doing chores or any kind of background music. Besides, this slowness of the melody gathered by a collection of buzzing instruments, it was beginning to make you aware of the exhaustion you’ve collected over the day.

You can’t really think about it before your head gently presses into the warmth in front of you, the smell of Volt’s cologne hitting your nose mixed with the fabric of his open collar and vest. You feel your swaying slow down by Volt’s lead as soon as your head meets his chest. Volt’s hands slide up, one only moving up a little higher on your back while the other supports the back of your head.

”Tired?” Volt hums and you nod a little.

“Yeah…”

Volt chuckles softly, the rumble filling through his chest against your head. You feel his fingers gently massage over your scalp, his hands supporting you close to his body. It's a small reassurance that you can relax. If you fall, he’ll surely catch you.

”Maybe it really is time for you to head off to bed, live wire. You’ll need more energy to face whatever may come tomorrow.”

You know there’s truth to Volt’s statement and you nod, making yourself pull away from his embrace. You look up and are only met with his fond, charming smile. He gently brushes along your face, tapping your cheek gently.

”You need to wake up to make it to your bedroom, darling,” he chuckles and you huff out a small laugh, nodding as you move away and gather the strength to wake yourself up.

”Right…thanks, Volt. I really enjoyed this,” you say as you pull yourself together. Volt keeps a hold on the your hand as he helps lead you off of the small stage, taking you down step by step. Once on ground level, he leans down to kiss your hand before giving you a charming smile and turning away, heading over to the counter.

“Sweet dreams, live wire,” he calls behind him as he saunters off. You smile to yourself and mumble back a small “goodnight” as you head to the doors of the bar. You pass a table Eddie is wiping down and cast a glance in his direction. You continue walking to the door but pause just before your hand can reach it. You turn to look at him.

”Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie raises his head almost immediately, his eyes meeting yours from where he stands by one of the tables.

”You owe me a dance next time I come by, alright?”

Your words hang in the air for a moment as Eddie just stares at you, seeming minorly taken aback by your words. He takes a moment before scoffing out a laugh and straightening his posture up a bit.

”You really wanna put on a circus show?” Eddie muses. You only grin and nod.

”You know it.”

There’s another small moment of silence as Eddie looks back down to the table, almost ashamed of how much you have him smiling. He then relents and continues wiping off the surface.

”Alright then,” Eddie grunts, “get some sleep, kid.”

His answer is enough to please you as you nod and turn away, pressing your hand fully to the door handle. You pull it open and feel a buzzing shower around you, closing your eyes in minor shock. When the buzzing goes away and you open your eyes, you’re standing at the doorway of the electrical closet. You turn and see the circuit breaker on the wall behind you. It takes you a moment before you allow yourself to smile again, moving away from the closet and closing the door.

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word count: 4.7k

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[carbon-dating-everything]

date-tober day 17 l pareidolia

pairing: amir x reader

summary: you buy a beautiful mirror, and it helps you realize something about yourself - even if it's only something small.

pareidolia - noun - the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern.

content / warnings: angst (good ending), reader is really depressed (and implied to have thoughts of suicide), amir largely in mirror form for the fic until the ending so this is largely more player-focus

word count: 1.1 k

a/n: a bit of a sadder one today, simply because that's where it took me - i'm sorry amir i'll give you fluff at some point i promise

When you first buy the mirror, it’s more on a whim than anything else. You admit to yourself you’re being indulgent with your money — you don’t have a lot of it to burn, but if you’re going to spend all your life at home, you might as well have something nice to look at.

It’s beautiful, the edges deliberately splintering into smaller cut diamonds and hexagons millimeters thick. It must have taken considerable skill to glue every piece into place — far more effort than you have to spend on yourself, anyway.

(It’s likely held together far longer than you will, either, you think, but of course you don’t say that aloud.)

It isn’t doing a particularly good job right now, though that's no fault of its own. It’s dusty in uneven, scattered patches, clearly having been wiped with little care in hopes for a quick sell. What little that can be seen is dull, the glass projecting nothing but the dull, unending gray of the sky behind you.

The way the dust pattern has settled on the glass looks almost like a different person’s face, obscuring your own, as if the mark of the artist who crafted it still tries to cling to life in any way they can get it. Leaning closer, you catch a glimpse of your tired, hard time-beaten eyes in a patch of clear glass and unconsciously flinch away, not wanting to look further and see something you hate.

The seller rushes to talk when you waver, likely sensing your lack of interest and deciding to throw in another tidbit. They say that the pieces of the mirror catch and reflect light, multiplying it and scattered it across your home. Little pockets of sunshine wherever they manage to catch on your walls.

You think there’s something nice, in that, and you stay, although you don’t look at it again until it’s blanketed in a layer each of bubble wrap and brown paper. The transaction completes itself without further issue.

——

The mirror is still a little dusty when you unpack it at home, the packaging not managing to shake off the thickness of the years that have left it untouched. Once you’ve taken off your coat and scarf, you grab a cloth and try to clean it as best as you can; it’s easier to take care of it than yourself, at any rate, and when you’re done and mount it on your bedroom dresser it sits there silver and gleaming.

Maybe you should have put it somewhere where you’ll have to look at each morning when you want to check the time, but you’ve put too much effort in now, so you’ll have to live with it, you suppose. You chance a gaze into it, though, and find that you’re not as averse to your own face as you were before, though you quickly defocus your eyes to instead look at the little glass pieces surrounding its edges.

It really is a beautiful mirror, and you would hate to go without using it — that would devalue it, so you suppose you should get started on making it feel familiar. Maybe you could imagine someone staring back at you, instead, to make looking at it more bearable — someone else living your life, so someone else can see how sad it is.

If this mirror were a person, what would they look like? Someone who, unlike you is beautiful. Strikingly, devastatingly beautiful, with sharp eyes that almost seem to pierce you to the wall behind you, the edges of the mirror forming an outfit that only serves to beam back horrid copies of your own face. Someone who never has trouble believing their worth because they just are worthy of love and affection.

Funny, the isolation must already be getting to you; you swear you can almost see this person if you try, and you move to conclude this experiment, beginning to turn your head away and lie back onto the bed you spend all your time in.

And that is when for a moment — for just a brief moment — the clouds part, gray drawing back to reveal a solitary sunbeam that descends and strikes the mirror, sending it scattered into a hundred pieces. Sunlight throws itself in little diamond shapes across the room, softly alighting objects you use without thinking.

Light plays across your own face, bright but not too bright, so you feel almost spotlighted by what’s in front of you, and your reflection suddenly comes into startling focus —

Oh.

You look nice. Nicer than you had thought, actually — the foreign concept of beautiful, to you, is still a long time away, but you manage to make that step easier than you had imagined. It’s a trick of the light, surely — highlighting the good by erasing the bad — but you feel buoyed by this, inexplicably, and you smile. A genuine smile, not one strained by friends now more akin to strangers asking how you’ve been; to your neighbors watching you from their houses, muttering to themselves; it is not pulled taut at the edges higher than it ought to be, but a small, real one.

The smile lasts just about as long as the sun takes for it to disappear back behind the clouds, but the feeling itself remains — a little light in your chest, not as heavy to carry as you expected, and it makes getting through the next day a little easier.

And the next.

And the next.

—— (It’s years later when you’re finally able to see what’s been standing in front of you — quite literally — the whole time, and you manage to win their affections by allowing him to help you with yours. It’s later still, when he’s no longer a mirror at all, when you bring it up to him.

‘You’re a lot like what I pictured, you know,’ you say quietly on another day very much like when you first met — cloudy gray and threatening to rain at any moment.

‘Am I, azizam?’

‘Yeah — the day I got you, I mean. I feel like I have you to thank for helping me in a way. Did you see me? Was it you?’

‘Are you asking me if I directly asked the sun to clear away the clouds?’

‘I mean, you were like some kind of —’ — you search for the right words — ‘— sunlit angel, or something, I don’t know. Descending from the heavens and making me feel nice like that.’

‘Maybe I did. Or maybe it was your own doing, inviting the light into your life and letting me help you see what you truly are? To eshgh-e mani, aaftaab-e mani — you are certainly my sunshine, my love,’ he hums, holding you tighter in his arms.

And it’s true; you laugh, light and easy, and smile, a beautiful look that’s sunlit all on your own.)

a/n: extra farsi phrase used here: to eshgh-e mani, aaftaab-e mani - you are my sunshine, my love

i do not speak the language, though, so please let me know if it is incorrect!

[sweet-nothings-exe]

[fatal-dr0id]

╭┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╮

⟢ Sugar & Spice, Love & Hate

⋆˚࿔ Date Everything! Fanfiction

╰┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╯

CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Index 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

────୨ৎ────

You hurry downstairs to the laundry room, your soaked clothes beginning to seep onto your skin and into your t-shirt, making you move your arms to hold the bundle at arms length. You open the laundry room and step inside, only to immediately have to duck as the lid of a straw hamper is tossed at your head. It goes flying past you, crashing into the door instead. You quickly stand up straight, blinking as your eyes settle on a couple fighting with each other.

”You’re always doing this! Putting me down as if I’m nothing without you!” The raven-haired man shouts at the ginger-headed girl who crosses her arms and huffs.

”So you’re saying you’re better without me?” She shoots back, making him groan in frustration and press his hands to his face leaning his head back.

”That’s not what I’m saying and you know that!”

He sounds entirely exhausted and annoyed while the girl just looks mad and pouty. The yelling cools down for a moment and turns to annoyance and bickering, before only a few sentences later, the two are screaming again. You stand there and stare at them for a long while, slowly moving to pick the hamper lid up. You approach them and hesitate once standing right beside the two, They still aren’t looking at you.

”You know what? Maybe my life would be a whole lot more peaceful without you!”

”Excuse me!? Did you seriously just say that!? After everything I’ve done for you!”

You cringe back a bit as they raise their voices again. You’re not sure how to interject, not wanting to get yelled at yourself. So instead, very slowly, you hold the hamper lid up between their faces and they both choke on their words, cutting off and blinking in minor surprise as they weren’t expecting a sudden wall between them. Their eyes follow your arm and then land on your sheepish face. You look between them and then allow your arm to drop.

”Sorry to—uh—interrupt,” you say awkwardly, still holding your damp clothes to your chest. Your t-shirt is pretty damn most, now, but there isn’t much you can do about it, “but I gotta do my laundry, so like…if you guys could maybe…take this…somewhere else—?”

”Oh gosh!” The girl suddenly gasps, her face going red, “I’m so sorry! We must look like complete psychos.”

She tries to laugh it off, snorting a bit and smacking the man’s shoulder. He just gives you a look that tells you he is heavily grateful you stopped the argument. Poor dude…

“No, it’s fine! I mean…couple issues. It’s kind of personal. I get it,” you chuckle awkwardly, but the girl quickly interjects.

”We’re fine! Dirk’s just being difficult as always. We’re not arguing.”

”No, we are arguing because I can’t say anything right to you without you losing your shit,” the man, Dirk, bites back at her, earning a sharp glare in return.

”You can’t do anything right? I’m the one who always feels like I’m not enough for you!”

And the two are back at it again. Through yelling, you can make out names. Harper and Dirk. Harper, the laundry hamper, and Dirk, who’s wearing a bundle of the clothes you had tossed into the hamper from yesterday and from your move over to your new house. You can only assume he must be a manifestation of dirty laundry. Sort of what you may need right now, but there’s no hope in getting through those two at the moment.

To your luck, you hear. a voice behind you who may be of much better help to your situation. It’s posh, dripping sweet into your ears like honey.

”Ignore those two. They don’t go a second in this room without arguing or making out,” the voice scoffed. You turn to see a man dressed almost like an acrobat standing behind you, an unamused look on his face as he stares at the couple fighting. He has slicked back, dusty brown hair that is graying slightly at the roots and scattered in with the darker strands. Does he look old, no. He still looks rather spry and energetic. It’s the perfect connection to how wine ages. If anything, the stubble on his jawline and hair above his upper lip added with the gray hairs through his brown locks make him look far more charming. He then meets your eyes and that look of boredom quickly turns into a charming smirk.

”Why hello there! You must be the darling new human who’s moved in our house and…given Skylar quite the scare.” He chuckles. Your heart sinks a bit, but you force a sheepish smile and shrug.

”Sadly, yeah…that’s me.”

”Oh, don’t you fret. I’ve heard it was an accident. Accidents happen!” The man pats your shoulder in reassurance despite having been the one to tease you in the first place. Then, another, much deeper, voice adds in on your conversation.

”Yes, I’m sure you must know quite a lot about accidents,” the deeper voice spoke, making you quickly turn your head to look at the man. He looks around the same age, though he is certainly much larger. He has longer, more caramel-colored, hair that is tied loosely in the back. There is some graying to his hair, as well, but it blends a bit better with his natural color. His beard is much more full-grown, same with the mustache he has settled over his upper lip. His eyes are firmly set on the man on your other side, whose face seems to bitter right back.

“Yes. I would. Because it was entirely an accident—“

”An accident of you shamelessly spending our act together flirting with another man rather than doing your job. An accident where you dropped me when I needed you most.”

Oh great. Another dysfunctional couple out of the objects you need most in that moment. Though, there’s less pointless arguments between them. It seems that something deeper is happening between the two. There’s certainly a stronger connection that the two are pained to have broken. You can see it in their eyes when they argue.

Before you can try to interject after a good minute of the two going back and forth, just trying to get your clothes dry, the larger man turns away and holds up a hand to silence the other. How melodramatic.

”I cannot bear speaking to you any longer, but please. Tell any form of the story you’d like to our dear human. Continue to lie to save your charm if you wish. You cannot hurt me any more than you already have,” he huffs before disappearing back into the washer, leaving you quite stunned. As you look to, who you can assume is, the dryer beside you, he seems almost used to that sort of reaction. If anything, he just seems pained rather than almost amused by the poetic goodbye his lover gave him.

”I’m terribly sorry you had to see that. I didn’t think he’d make an appearance after avoiding me for so long,” he sighs wistfully. You slowly cast your gaze to the washer and dryer that are quite literally stacked on one another, though you keep schtum.

“I’m…so sorry you two have gone through such a…bad breakup,” you say sympathetically and the man simply shrugs with yet another sigh.

”I let him down…it is entirely my fault. This is something I must endure,” he turns his gaze to you and softens his frown a bit, turning it back into a charming grin, “but I do not wish to bore you any longer with my pathetic love life. My name is Drysdale and my old partner over there is Washford.”

You slowly smile as tensions finally start to melt away and you greet him with a nod.

”It’s nice to meet you. I was wondering if—uhm—I could have some help here?”

You offer up your soaked clothes and Drysdale looks a bit taken aback. He takes the bundle from you and hums, chuckling softly as he examines your hoodie and sweats.

”Did you decide to go swimming without a swimsuit? You know skinny-dipping is much less wasteful of perfectly good lounging clothes~” he coos. You blush a bit and snort at his words, shaking your head.

”I got a little caught up in Johnny’s…uh…singing?”

Drysdale lets out a small “ah” as he nods, rolling his eyes. He clearly knows of Johnny’s singing very well despite being a good distance from the bathroom. All that wailing and moaning you heard must be a very common occurrence and…often very loud.

”Yes, yes, of course. That makes more sense,” Drysdale then pressed your clothes to his chest, giving you an endearing grin, “Well, I will take good care of these for you. I’ll have them dry in no time before any mildew can get a hold of them. You have my word.”

You nod gratefully to him as you step away.

”Thank you so much, Drysdale.”

The sound of Harper and Dirk arguing is starting to give you a headache and there’s really no reason to stay in that laundry room any longer than you already have to. You quickly move to leave, wondering how the hell your small laundry room could be the host of two dysfunctional relationships. A room that small containing the most romantic toxicity? It was overbearing enough to be in there with its size, let alone attempting to do laundry with all of that going on.

”You look like you could use a drink.”

Your attention is quickly brought to a woman standing by your drink bar that’s sat by the window of the kitchen. She’s holding a shaker in her hands, smiling sympathetically at you. You must look quite disheveled, having not had the chance to fully get ready for the day, wearing borderline pajamas still, a big water stain on your t-shirt from where the wet clothes had been pressed to you, and a frazzled expression on your face. You soften up a bit, realizing how you look, and decide to give into the somewhat peaceful nature this lady was offering you…along with drinks.

She has long, wavy, almost liquid-looking orange hair that’s pulled back into different puffs of a ponytail. Her top and collar look similar to the top of a carton and her skirt looks like an upside down glass of some beverage, a teabag acting as an apron around it. She has iced tea cuffs and beer mug sleeves. It’s a cute look to match what she represents.

“You look pretty beat,” she chuckles softly.

”Yeah, well, the first day getting used to every object in my house can be pretty overwhelming,” you respond with a small sigh, leaning against the counter as you watch her mix up whatever’s in her shaker.

”You like margaritas?” she asks, only leading you to assume that must be what’s in the shaker.

“I do.”

You watch her pour it into a glass, admiring the way she makes your drink with practiced ease. It’s like a peaceful break among the hectic and overwhelming day you’d had. There was a moment to breathe while watching this girl make you a drink. She seems no less pleased to be helping you calm down, too.

”My name’s Beverly,” she introduces herself as she hands you the drink, topped with salt around the rim and a lime wedge pushed onto the top. You take it and nod to her.

”It’s nice to meet you…and thank you.”

She chuckles as she watches you eagerly take a drink. You feel somewhat bad as if you’d taken the drink she was making herself, but when you look over to her, she’s already making another. She seems unbothered, so you decide to not let it bother you either.

”There are some interesting characters around the house,” she hums, “it’s pretty overwhelming to meet them all in one day and I’d say you’ve met far more than you’re supposed to in one sitting already.”

”Than I’m supposed to?” You echo, your eyes focused on her making herself a drink. It’s satisfying to watch.

”Usually, when using the glasses to see us, we get pretty tired after five uses. It takes a lot for this house to be visible to you,” Beverly explains, “the weird thing is…you’re not using the glasses to see us. You just sort of…do. And from what I feel, there’s no stress of being humanized so often. It just feels normal.”

You tilt your head to the side a bit at what she informs you. You never really got to hear a lot about the glasses before. Well, probably because that was Skylar’s john to explain it to you, but you sort of sniped her before she had the chance. Guilt settles in your stomach once more.

”Skylar’s doing alright,” Beverly suddenly adds, seemingly sensing your unease and knowing exactly what you must be thinking about, “it’s nice that you’re worried about her despite hardly knowing her. Proves you’re a good person who just made an accident.”

Her reassurance makes you feel a little better, as does the drink, but you can’t help but feel bad. You crushed those glasses pretty well and having seen them before heading downstairs…they weren’t in the best of shape. Knowing that there was a person connected to those, it only makes you feel worse.

”I just feel like an idiot. I completely threw myself to the floor just from seeing a girl behind me. She looked harmless, too!” you exclaim. Beverley just laughs as she pours her drink into a glass.

”Yeah, but you saw a girl behind you in a house that’s supposed to be empty. I think you’re justified in freaking out.” Beverly snorts. You can’t help but laugh along with her, feeling a little better as your panic is justified.

”I guess so…” you sigh, finishing the rest of your drink and setting the glass down.

”You want another?” Beverly asks, but you shake your head.

”Nah…I don’t really feel like drinking away my stress in the corner of my kitchen.” Beverly chuckles softly at your statement, shaking her head.

”Hey, it’s a minibar to me. Perfect place for getting drunk. I have harder stuff, you know.” Beverly adds, but you only shake your head again.

”Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”

Beverly doesn’t push you after that, nodding in understanding as she leans against the minibar and sips her own drink.

”You’re stronger than me,” Beverly lets out a small chuckle, “it's kind of hard to refuse a drink when you feel like shit, especially.”

You couldn’t disagree with her. The drink was a nice wind down after dealing with the arguing tastes within your kitchen, moving all your things in, getting drenched by your shower, and then witnessing two couples fight in your laundry room. Getting drunk does sound somewhat…appetizing. Still, it’s your first official day moving into your new house and meeting a good chunk of the objects within your home, so getting trashed isn’t the best first impression.

”Yeah…it does sound pretty enticing, though.”

”I hope that doesn’t mean you already hate us.” Beverly snorts, but you respond with a shake of your head very quickly.

”No no, not at all. It’s very lively around here. I think…” you pause,” I was pretty damn worried being in a new town and new house alone that I’d isolate myself pretty bad.”

”Talking to the objects around your house isn’t any better.” Beverly hummed teasingly and you chuckle.

”No, but, it’s better than nothing. I won’t lose my social skills, at least. Besides, I still have incentive to leave my house. I need groceries…” you say, recalling your need to make that grocery list with Mitchell Linn to know make your shopping trip easier. It really is nice having company around the house, “I like having people here. It’s much nicer considering the people I’ve met so far seem…respectful. I most certainly don’t feel unsafe here despite a bunch of strangers living in my house now.”

Beverly laughs softly, shaking her head.

”God, I sure hope so! I can assure you that you’re safe in your own house. We’re here to make up your house, not tear it down.” Beverly hums, “I can say with…ninety-nine per cent certainty that no one here wants to kill you.”

You snort and roll your eyes, “Lovely.”

Beverly finishes her drink as well and sets her glass down, her eyes trailing down to her shaker and then back up to meet your gaze.

”Well, if you need a distraction or a good setting to get drunk, Eddie and Volt have their bar upstairs in the breaker box. It’s a pretty cool place.” Beverly says with a small shrug. You’d feel bad leaving her to go to a different place with drinks, but Beverly doesn’t seem to take it personally, a small smile on her lips as she nods to you, “besides, if you haven’t met them, you really should. They're good guys. Great to go to if you need an excuse to wind down and vent a bit. Eddie may not act like he cares, but he and Volt are some of the nicest guys I’ve had take care of me while drunk off my ass.”

You chuckle softly along with Beverly as she recalls some embarrassing moments at the bar. You push off the counter and hand her the martini glass, nodding gratefully.

”I’ll go check it out then. Thanks so much for the drink. It was really good.”

Beverly seems pleased at your compliment, nodding as she sets your glass aside.

”It is my specialty, afterall,” she chuckles before motioning her head to the exit of the kitchen, “go have fun. I’ll see you around.”

”It was nice meeting you, Beverly,” you call behind you as you leave the kitchen. you feel much more relaxed and recharged to face a bar setting after your small conversation and drink with Beverly. No stress from other people around you or weird characters to entertain your suddenly flipped lifestyle.

You make it upstairs to the closet where your circuit breaker was located. You look down and notice a toolbox on the floor, taking note of where to find Tony (like you’d necessarily be able to rely on him for anything). You stare at the circuit breaker for a long while and then reach over. Your fingers brush against the switches, feeling over the labels. You feel over the sleek metal slowly, feeling electricity coursing through it. You stare for a long while before suddenly feeling embarrassed that you’re just standing in the closet feeling over your circuit breaker. You pull your hand away, feeling a bit lost. How does one…enter…another’s space?

You find yourself looking around sheepishly, wondering how stupid you look at that moment. Before you can step away to maybe ask Dorian for help, you see a small buzz of electricity and look back, only to be taken aback as you see an arm slip from the surface of the box, electricity buzzing around where the arm and breaker fused. It was pale, the hands looking well manicured and strong. It then shifts, palm up, holding a hand out for you. It was reaching for you…inviting you in.

You stay still for a long while, the hand ever patient for your taking. Finally, as you let out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you take the hand and allow yourself to be pulled into a strange warmth, closing your eyes as you’re pulled through your wall and into a buzzing space. For a moment, there is static around you. You keep your eyes shut tight, your hand firmly gripping the one guiding you. Then, you feel yourself press to someone’s chest, a second hand now slipping around you to press against the small of your back.

”There you are, livewire,” you hear a smooth chuckle by your ear.

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word count: 3.3k

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[lethargiclarva]

Volt with a Pokemon team! Planning to do Eddie next, any suggestions for his team would be greatly appreciated. Having a lot of trouble because while Volt makes sense for having a full team of 6 with his role as a protector of sorts, Eddie's more practical and seems like he'd have like. A Chargabug. And also a Minun :)

Volt team reasoning under the cut:

Meowscarada: Fits his showman's person, and the bits about misdirection and illusion fit with Volt trying to cover up problems at the Breaker Box

Toxtricity: It's literally AMPed form how could I not

Jolteon: Fur bristles with electricity when angry, much like Volt. Also just one of my favorites

Alolan Ninetales: Very pretty and showy, but also a solid offensive Pokemon. However, it truly shines as a support Pokemon, much like how Volt was created to help Eddie. Plus it reminds me of Volt's hair.

Luxray: Every time I see it Luxray reminds me of stage lights

Plusle: Giving Eddie a Minun, those two are inextricably linked. I like to think Volt's Plusle is unusually moody, much like a certain barkeep

[alextuckrrr]

[purpleblch]

[takatul]

dateables with a homeowner that uses their objects intimately without meaning to?? LMAO pre-meeting them/suggestive (second route au, but can be separate)

With Dorian, there’s many scenarios where your hands are full/carrying stuff. You can’t really close any doors without struggling. So, when you started to use your hips to shut them, Dorian lets out a soft grunt, light pink dusting his cheeks. He understands the struggle… but it doesn’t leave him any less flustered— feeling your hips collide against him.

Same thing can be applied to Washford and Cabrizzo. For Washford, it’s when you empty out the wet clothes and throwing them into Drysale— absentmindedly hitting your hips/waist/leg against his opening. And since it needs to lock in place, you press against him just hard enough to hear a click. In this position, your skin is unintentionally pressing against his chest. He hums. It would be quite easy for him to reach and guide you in a much different position. It sends his mind racing, that’s for sure.

Cabrizzio, on the other hand, gets the fully body experience. Literally LMAO. If you’re crouching down to rummage through pots, you use your shoulder/back/ass to shut the cabinet. Wanting to close a drawer cabinet while occupied? You’ll use your hip, turn to the side, or lift a leg. It’s amusing to him how you’ll use any body part except your hands to do the job. He admires your dexterity (and the warmth you give/take every time you push against him).

On days where you use free will, you sit on top of counters and tables for shits and giggles.

Cabrizzio worries a bit when this happens. He isn’t exactly built to carry humans like couches and chairs. As he feels you shift on top of him though, it feels as if you trust him enough to keep lifted. Cabrizzo supposes this is why he has a six pack— to carry cute homeowners like you.

Abel straight up sweats, hoping you won’t hurt yourself! Gosh. He’s a table, not a gosh-darn chair. Despite the obvious issue, your weight on him actually feels comforting. And while he understands gliding your fingers across him helps you think, he’d rather you… not. It just sends a shiver down his spine!

For smaller items, they would think you can’t possible fluster them, yet you managed to prove them wrong.

Tony feels goosebumps cover his arms as you mouth a screwdriver, tinkering the breaker box. Since the og!homeowner left the house in a disarray, you’ve been keeping up with maintenance to not let that situation repeat again. As a result, the tool box is glued to your side. Tony acts like your lips don’t faze him— only to stutter out a groan as you suddenly bite down on the screwdriver. (You were getting frustrated.) Fucking hell. Tony shudders, the sharpness of your teeth nibbling his neck. You’re going to kill him at this point.

Penolope squealed the first time you dragged a pen to your lips. You were taking notes from the computer. The more engrossed you became, the more you fidgeted. Deeply concentrating, you brought the pen to your lips. Not biting down, but dragging it back and forth against your lips. Nowadays, she can usually tell when you’re going to repeat this unique quick again, but that does not mean she’s any less affected. Though… after a while, the sensation is rather… addictive… to say the least.

Chance is in the same boat as Penolope. Except you’re more prone to tossing him back and forth between your hand. On the days that doesn’t happen however… the man would practically burst into flames. You’d draw circles across his sides at an excruciating slow pace. Back and forth. Switch to a different side. Repeat. By the you shut off the computer and exit the workroom for the day, Chance is left to compose himself at how bothered he is. You’re such a tease.

Lyric has a situation only unique to him. He notices you enjoy reading, indulging in a magazine for gossip or a good book to daydream about. Sometimes you’d fall asleep while reading. But the weirdest part? You’d purposefully cover your face with the book so light won’t peak through. In this position you’re practically almost kissing him! And you don’t even know it?! He can feel himself shaking, feeling you breathe and the closeness of your lips. He— he should use this as inspiration for his story. Yes. Totally not because he wants to relive this scene over and over again.

[fatal-dr0id]

╭┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╮

⟢ Sugar & Spice, Love & Hate

⋆˚࿔ Date Everything! Fanfiction

╰┈ • ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈┈ • ┈╯

CHAPTER TWO

Previous Chapter 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

────୨ৎ────

“Hey, girl—!”

”WHAT THE FUCK!?”

You didn’t quite get a good glimpse of the girl. Well, that’s a lie. You most certainly did. Enough to make you scream loud enough to alert the whole damn neighborhood you thought you were being attacked. Enough to take in the fact that the girl sort of looked like she came from a 2014 Instagram fever dream.

She had long, straight, hot pink hair with golden streaks throughout certain strands. She wore a stylish jacket, white leather with black lining and a golden collar firmly pressed down to her chest. Underneath the open, cropped jacket, she was only wearing a bra that matched her hair color. On the bottom, she wore a tight skirt that was adorned with white, pink, and yellow hearts. Perched on her blushed nose were those glasses. Those same damn glasses resting on your face. Or…were.

The moment you launch yourself backwards, swiping the glasses off your face, they clatter to the floor at your side. You knock yourself back into your dresser before pushing off of it, tripping over your own feet and falling flat on your face. You felt a crushing impact on your chest, having hit right where the glasses had landed.

You can hear the sound of the young woman squealing in fright. You aren’t surprised that you must’ve scared the hell out of her, too. You hear a sharp crack when your chest smashes the sunglasses against the floor, followed by a zipping sound similar to an electrifying volt of energy zapping from the sunglasses. Before you know it, your whole body seizes with an electric shock, making your head shoot up before it thumps to the ground, fried.

────୨ৎ────

Everything goes black for just a moment. Your hearing is muffled, your nose fuzzy, your lips tingling, and your eyes…slowly cracking open. You wake ever so slightly to the feeling of strong calloused hands gently raising your head, keeping it cushioned from the ground. Through your muffled hearing, you can make out a gruff British voice speaking above you and can barely see black fabric right in front of your face, the fabric of pants as whoever is cradling your head is crouched down beside you.

Did your scream really alert the whole damn neighborhood? Was this your neighbor who came in to help you? Jesus, what a warm greeting. You haven’t even had the chance to meet them yet. All you really can think of is how nice your neighbor’s cologne is. You can smell it on his wrists as he holds your head up. Maybe it’s because whatever shocked you scrambled your brains a bit, but you find yourself speaking through almost numb lips with a lazy grin spreading across your stunned face.

”Nice perfume…” you slur out. What a lovely introduction. You’re never going to be able to face this man again if you happen to catch him watering his flowers on the lawn while you grab your mail or however the fuck you run into neighbors. Though, there’s a realistic part of your brain telling you that he’ll understand completely that you won’t be thinking straight after being shocked, but that realistic part of your brain is fried to a crisp.

You’re not surprised to have momentarily stopped the conversation that you were hearing happening over you, but weren’t processing. There’s a small pause of silence as if the man cradling your head and whoever else is in your room are silently communicating through either looks or mouthed words. You wonder if that girl who broke into your house is still there. She must’ve fled if her presence alone knocked you out. Even an idiot would know to get the hell out of a house they broke into if they knocked the damn owner out. You then wonder if you got robbed while out. Heh, idiot. You haven’t fully moved in yet. That’s not your shit, anyways.

Then, finally, you seem to get a response. You feel the man’s hand gently brush through your hair, thumb gently caressing over your temple for just a moment.

”Thanks, love,” is all the man says in response to your near-drunken words. You nearly forgot what you had even said in the first place and you don’t have time to remember before you finally cave into exhaustion and dizziness, falling unconscious once more.

────୨ৎ────

This time when you wake up, you’re laying in your bed. Your face is smushed into a pillow, your eyes cracking open very slowly. Your vision is blurry for only a moment before it adjusts, your gaze on the bathroom door connected to your bedroom. Before you can really take in your surroundings or gather your thoughts, you can hear mumbling behind you on the other side of the bed. At first, you think you’re going crazy because you can’t understand a word the deep, sensual voice is saying. Are you hearing things?

Then, you realize you can’t understand it because it is in a different language.

“Domine mi caelestis... munda eius essentiam a peccato unguenti et olei... purifica damnabilia mala quae os eius corruperunt…”

Is that Latin? Dear God, are you being crucified?

You find the strength within to turn your head, the rest of your body remaining limp under the covers. Standing beside your bed is a man wearing holy robes…you think. He is bald (for the most part) with the strangest arrangement of hair coiled on his head. He has a black pencil mustache and a goatee. The holy man is holding a large, black book in his hands that has a collection of foods in blue lining on the cover. He holds such gentle eyes, slightly sunken to give them just a lustful look as he gazes upon you…contrasted with the sudden curl of his upper lip as he suddenly gives you a disgusted look. Rude.

”Are you a priest?” you finally ask, your question making his grimace fall to minor confusion and shock. You can’t imagine why considering his getup. He looks at you for a long moment before reaching forward. He grips your face firmly, his thumb, gentler than his grip, swiping under your eye for a moment. He’s feeling around your eyes. Does he think you’re blind? You must have some religious neighbors if they felt your accident needed a priest to bless you.

He then pulls his hand away from your face, wiping it off on his robes. Double rude.

”I am a Friar. Friar Errol.” The man answers you.

”Same thing.”

”It is not the same thing,” he seethed at your response.

”Are you exorcising me?” you ask, making him raise an eyebrow at your question.

”Not exactly—well…perhaps. I am cleansing you.” Errol explains, making you nod. Same thing, but you bite back those two words this time knowing you’ll only receive another sneer, “you humans indulge in greasy, sinful food so often it begins to break away at your body. I found it most reasonable your healing process would only be benefited if that sin is lifted from you…in which I was clearly correct, as I always am.”

You lay there, stunned for a moment as you try to process his words. Did he just say ‘you humans’? Christ, what has religion come to now that friars were briefing themselves as higher than man…literally. Not only that, but what friar cares to believe the cause of your sickness is not the devil of some sort, but…fast food? Maybe McDonalds was the new “satanic panic” of your time.

“I wasn’t—hold on—“

”There is something else concerning, though,” Errol speaks over you, triple rude, “you can see me.”

You stare at him for a long time. Your eyebrows slowly knit together as you just…stare at him. It takes you a moment to find your words, though they aren’t as calm and collected as you usually would prefer them.

”What the fuck is your problem?” you ask, only allowing the friar’s momentary look of concern to fall back to disappointment.

”Language.” Errol scolds you firmly before speaking again, “you aren’t wearing Skylar…yet…you are speaking to me. You can see and hear me.”

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to his confusing statement, so you opt to just look away and ignore him. It’s not like you asked him to be there anyway, nor were you paying him for his time (hopefully). You instead cast your gaze to your door, thinking for a moment before speaking.

“What time is it?” you whisper.

”Mmh…seven?”

”At night?” you ask, looking back to Errol who calmly nods, “I’ve been out all day?”

”You took quite the shock. It clearly…has affected you deeply.” Errol says as he pushes his book closed and looks away, “I don’t often express this, but I am concerned.”

“I sure hope you are. I was practically just in a coma,” you grumble as you shift to stand from the bed, your bare feet pressing into the rug that was resting beneath your bed. You stretch your arms up, feeling the tensions in your body releasing.

”Maybe you should stay in bed…” a soothing, feminine voice speaks from behind you.

”No, I think I’m—“

You freeze for a moment. When the hell did the friar you were just speaking to gain a mommy voice? You whip your head around and see Friar Errol still standing by your bed, but now there’s a stunning, hefty, curvy woman laying on your mattress. She has long, curly, baby pink hair and freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. She’s wearing what looks like a mattress frame corset, seemingly made with hard wood. Her pants and robe look similar to a white comforter, a headband with small pillows similar to the ones on your bed rested on her head.

You stare at her for a long moment and she seems a bit taken aback by your gaze before she pushes to sit up, looking to Friar Errol.

”I almost forgot. The poor thing smashed Skylar and got shocked. It must be the reason she can see us,” the beautiful woman spoke to him in her sultry voice, only making Friar Errol shift his book in his hand.

”Hm…perhaps this is far more serious than I thought,” Errol mumbled, “I was going to check on Skylar next, though I know she is far less careless in her eating habits than this sinner,” he tosses a wave of his hand towards you, “so I had my priorities.”

Quadruple rude!

”Who the hell are you people and why are you in my house? You especially, you dickwad,” you point to Errol, only receiving an unamused eyebrow raise, “and you especially because you weren’t here a second ago.”

”Oh, you poor baby…” the woman spoke, placing a hand over her breast, “you must be so scared…my name is Betty. I’m your bed.”

You were silent for a moment, staring at her for a long while. Is she…flirting with you? Was that an attempt at flirting? If so, what a riddle of a flirt it was.

“Okay…” you wave your hands in front of you, closing your eyes and shaking your head as you motion both of them to be quiet, “this is…ridiculous. You two need to go.”

The two of them only exchanged glances, Betty’s full of concern and Errol’s still unimpressed.

“I am the owner of this house and I am demanding you two get out before I call the cops—“

”Take a few deep breaths, love. Maybe you should lay back down.”

There’s at least one familiar voice, even if barely familiar, standing behind you. Your neighbor! The man you remember cradling your head when you first collapsed. Also the man you can only assume is the reason a damn priest and magician is in your house.

You whip around to glare at the man standing behind you and find yourself having to slowly trail your eyes up, having come face to face with his chest rather than his face. He’s quite tall. He has short, dark brown hair combed over neatly, his upper lip, chin and jawline covered by a clean-cut beard and mustache. He has brown eyes that are glaring quite firmly at you, except he doesn’t necessarily seem to be glaring at you. It looks more like his natural gaze. He’s wearing a white button up with an odd, door-like design on it. He’s also wearing a black suit jacket with a brown collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and revealing the tattoos on his arms. On his wrist is a watch…wait…no. Is that a doorknob? There’s also what looks to be a security pad on his arm…and three chains with keys around his neck. What is with everyone’s outfits? Is there a new style trend you’re not aware of? When Errol told you it was seven at night, did he mean fifty years in the future?

“You.”

”Me.”

His response is quite unamused, seeming to not at all be intimidated by your glare. You can only assume it’s because the last, what you assume was the first, time he saw you, you drowsily complimented his cologne as “perfume” before falling unconscious on the floor. It makes your cheeks burn in embarrassment, but you stand your ground.

”Who the hell are these people in my house, why are you still in my house, did you call paramedics or did you just call this shitty priest? Sorry, Errol.” you wave vaguely back to Errol who just scoffs softly.

”Apology not accepted.”

”I didn’t…call anyone here,” he sighs gently before shaking his head and closing his eyes. He massages the bridge of his nose gently before speaking again, “Betty, Errol, why don’t you two go? I’ve got a lot to explain to miss Y/N here.”

You see Errol pass by you and the man before you, leaving through your bedroom door. When you turn around, the woman in the bed is just…gone. God, maybe she really is a magician…

”Why don’t you lay down? You’re not going to want to be standin’ for this.”

You hesitate before following his advice, laying back down in your bed and leaning back against the headboard.

“What the hell is going on?” you finally whisper, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with the fear underlying your confusion. The man sat down on the edge of your bed, his look of sympathy enough to make you feel comfortable with your acceptance of fear.

”It’s a lot to take in an’…there’s no better way I can explain it to you,” he speaks gently in his deep, gruff voice that you’re quickly learning is quite comforting to your anxiety.

”Are you my neighbor or not?” you ask, to which he shakes his head.

”I am not. I’m…your door. Well, all of your doors. Every door in this house,” he said as bluntly as he could, “name’s Dorian.”

There it is again. That claim to be an object. So…was that “Betty” woman from earlier not flirting with you when she said she was your bed? You’re confused beyond any level of comprehension, looking away and rubbing your temple gently.

”I…what?”

”Listen…as best you can,” Dorian said with a heavy sigh, “Those sunglasses you had been wearing earlier…they’re quite special. When you wear them, you can see every object in your house as what they really are on the inside…livin’ beings.”

You stay silent as you listen, though you deeply want to slam your hands over your ears and deny everything he’s saying. At this point, though, you have no real choice but to listen. Besides, his explanation makes more sense than anything else you can try and use as an excuse for what is happening…oddly enough.

”What was meant to happen, as it happened with the house owner before you, is you put the glasses on an’ can see us through those. The worst case scenario was s’posed to be what happened with the last house owner…which was to panic, move in with their parents, an’ try to sell this house as soon as possible to get away from what they thought were ghosts.” Dorian explained with a heavy sigh. That would explain why you’ve never gotten to meet the previous owner in person before…and why a lot of their stuff was left behind…, “but…it seems like there was a worse outcome we didn’t even consider which was…the sunglasses gettin’ broken an’….so does Skylar.”

You see Dorian wince a bit, a look of concern flashing over his face. You’re quiet for a moment, sensing that something is deeply wrong far beyond just you getting momentarily shocked and now able to apparently see and speak to your objects as if they are people…which…supposedly they always have been.

”It was an accident…” you add as consolation and Dorian merely sighs and nods.

”I understand that, love. We all do…” Dorian responds before pausing and turning to look at you, hearing soft beeps coming from his arm. He looks down to see you reaching forward and pressing the security pad buttons on his arm. You meet his gaze and pull your arm away.

”Sorry…it’s just…you’re a door.”

Dorian stares at you for a moment before he breathes out a deep chuckle, shaking his head.

”You’re taking this better than I hoped.” Dorian hums, shifting to face you better.

”I…don’t have much of a choice, do I? This is kinda…what I gotta deal with now. Besides, things would just be a lot harder for me if I try to deny it…which I really want to,” you pause for a long time before speaking again, “Errol is…?”

”The air fryer.” Dorian answers, to which you roll your eyes and chuckle.

“I see. Clever.”

Dorian only raises an eyebrow at your statement, but then decides he doesn’t care enough to think about it too long and stands up, folding his arms behind his back. He really did look like a guy who manned the door. He has that bar security look to him. You feel like he’s going to ID you or something at any point.

“You just focus on getting rest, sweet’eart. Leave it all to us. We’ll figure this out for you.” Dorian says with a small nod. You hesitate before nodding back to him.

”Well…alright. Thanks?”

Without another word, Dorian turns and leaves the room…and you have a moment alone. You just…sit there. You look around, a new perspective on the objects around you. Now you understand why you had felt so…watched…even now. It makes you stiffen a bit and you shift to lay back down in your bed, trying to close your eyes. As you slowly sink into the bed, you shut your eyes and decide…maybe you are dreaming. Afterall, that shock really knocked you out. You probably haven’t woken up yet. You have to move in tomorrow morning…you have so much to do.

A dream…a weird…confusing…and for some reason oddly religious dream.

And you’ll wake up tomorrow…and it will all be the same again…

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word count: 3,168

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[mochamyx]

strawpage doodle of Amir :p