Final Destination: Your House (CH. 1)
AKA: my first date everything fic because it's what I'm hyperfixated in rn
You decided to watch Final Destination with all the dateables and suddenly their all avoiding you?
or
The dateable realize that they're all very capable or hurting you and never wish to do so. Even if it means avoiding you.
cw: characters are worried and are having thoughts about reader getting hurt. Reader is clumsy as shit :)
(Inspired by @/dorianswhat on tiktok)
It's movie night in the house, as it is every Saturday. It's a fun little tradition that you and items developed after you received the dateviators, giving everyone a chance to socialize with one another.
Everyone took a vote on what genre of movie to watch; surprisingly, horror won this time and what better franchise to binge than famous horror-thriller Final Destination? The cheesy effects, over-the-top deaths, it's the best, obvious choice!
Everyone is crowded in the living room: Dorian stands beside the couch, Tony is pressed against your right side, Mateo sprawled on your left with some of the inanimals, Betty sits between your legs, her hair across your legs, then the rest are scattered on the floor.
The movies were fantastic! You only managed to get through the first two before everyone decided to call it a night. Betty carried you to bed at a slug’s pace, taking each stair with an air of ridiculous caution.
When you wake up the next morning, you go to put on the dateviators, but they beep at you in response: still dead. You curse in annoyance, figuring you simply didn't manage to plug them in fully before passing out.
Skylar watches with bated breath as you set the glasses on your face, releasing it when they don't work. She had Eddie and Volt cut the power to your room last night, so you wouldn't get electrocuted by anything.
Dorian sighs, shaking his head, “You really think keeping them away from us is the best solution?” he asks Skylar, casting her a disapproving look.
Everyone is worried after last night’s movies; seeing how easily any one of them could hurt you with even just a slip of the hand scared them. Even wrapping you in bubblewrap couldn’t quell their anxieties: what if you choked on it or suffocated? Anything could happen to you and they’d be the cause of it.
“It’s the best thing I think of until we all have a talk about what to do,” she retorts, pacing anxiously.
Betty grabs Skylar’s arms, pulling her into a hug, “We’ll figure it out, we’ll keep the human safe.”
You slip out of bed, switching the lights on, only for them not to. You flip the switch a few more times, brow furrowing in confusion. Did Eddie and Volt blow a fuse? They seemed fine last night when they joined in on movie night.
You can swear you feel every pair of eyes on you as you approach the closet door. The door is locked when you try to open it. Your confusion grows: this door is never locked.
“Doriannnnn? I might not be able to see you, but I know you can see and hear me, mister. Unlock, would you?” you request, wiggling the knob. Sure, Dorian warned you about the ‘unkindly’ bunch that came and went to the Breaker Box, but he’s never stopped you from coming and going.
You give the door a hard tug, not expecting him to actually have listened, but he had, so you go stumbling, bumping against Wallace.
Dorian’s eyes widen when you pull as he pushes himself open, watching as you go in the opposite direction. He curses Skylar for cutting the power, had you had the dateviators, he or Wallace could’ve caught you.
Florence gasps, covering her mouth with her hands, while Celia pulls her into a hug. All the upstairs dateables watch you intently, their minds racing with everything that could possibly happen to you.
“Let’s all head downstairs and call a meeting,” Celia suggests, leading Florence downstairs and gesturing for everybody to follow.
“Oops, sorry, Wallace,” you apologize sheepishly, lightly tapping the wall, turning back to the utility closet.
You approach the closet, pulling the breaker box open, flipping the switches carelessly, unsure which one is the root of the problem, “Hope you didn’t blow a fuse, Eds. I’ll come check on you once the dateviators charge up.”
The lights finally flicker on and you let out a victorious cheer, smiling at the metal box that typically takes the form of your lovers. You head downstairs, intent on coffee and the leftover donut you have from your last food order.
Everybody’s eyes are on you as you enter the kitchen; there’s so many things in here that could hurt you, or worse. You could trip and hit yourself on the counter, or Chairemi, or Abel. The cabinets could suddenly collapse and crush you, the broken glass could cut you. A million different scenarios and none end well for you.
“Attention, please,” Celia calls, lightly clapping her hands to draw attention onto her and away from you, “Now, I’m sure we all know why we’re here.”
There’s a chorus of ‘yes’ and questions are immediately asked, worries being voiced, “Please, please, calm down,” Celia requests, clearing her throat. Even the unflappable mayor looks concerned, “I’m well aware that after last night’s movie we are all worried about our human.”
“Worried? I think you’re a little more than worried Miss Mayor,” Doug scoffs, a smirk on his stupid, round face. This meeting is his wet dream, “You should be. All of you should be, I mean, one wrong move from any of you and and Dorkus could,” he drags a thumb across his neck, letting his head loll and sticking his tongue out.
“I think we’ve heard enough from you, mate,” Dorian tells him, stepping in front of the infuriating man, “I suggest you leave.”
“Hey! I’m just saying what you’re all thinking,” Doug raises his hands in mock surrender, “Daisuke, you could stab them--that was in the movie--Celia, Florence, Stella, and Wallace, any of you could collapse on the human. Skylar, you could spark on their face, scarring them horrifically or even blinding them. The possibilities are endless!”
Tydus steps in this time, sword raised at Doug’s meaty neck, “Leave,” she orders.
Doug freezes, only to shrug, taking a few steps back, “Think about what I said,” he sneers, then disappears into whatever land he comes from.
Murmurs break out between the dateables. As infuriating as he is, Doug is right.
The coffee maker finishes gurgling and you happily pour yourself a mugful, more than excited to have your morning coffee from Kopi. You take your first sip, nearly choking on the liquid. It’s cold! It just finished brewing, how could it possibly be cold?
“Kopi, babes, what is going on? Cold coffee? Don’t get me wrong, I love a cold coffee, but not right now,” you scold playfully, waggling your finger at the machine. “I hope I haven’t been overworking you.”
You work with it, transferring the coffee into a tumbler and plunking in a few ice cubes, making yourself a nice cold brew and donut. The house runs on Kopi!
You hum to yourself, setting your towel and change of clothes onto the closed toilet seat before hopping into the shower.
“Hey, Johnny. It’s kinda weird having a quiet shower, guess our duo will have to be solo today,” you muse lightheartedly, reaching a hand out to feel the water, “whoo, still chilly. Must’ve worn Winny out.”
You give it a couple more minutes before stepping into the spray, yelping at the still cold water. Has it gotten colder since before? You slip on the wet shower tiles as you go to step. You balance yourself, chuckling a little.
“Wow, I really should get a non-slip mat or something… Do you think Rebel would be offended if I got those slip-proof rubber ducky stickers?” you ask no one in particular, giggling to yourself at the thought of the enraged duck.
There are several almost heart attacks in the bathroom when you slip. Have you always been this clumsy? How could they have not noticed that?
“We could do that,” Johnny nods, despite knowing you can’t hear him. He’d let you put any dumb anti-slip sticker on him as long as it meant you wouldn’t slip on him.
“Azizam is fine,” Amir announces, reflecting your beautiful reflection while you go through your morning routine. He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince: everyone else or himself.
“Fine!? They nearly went head first into ya,” Johnny exclaims, brushing his soaked hair out of his eyes.
“But, they didn’t, so calm down,” Tyrell says to Johnny, gently brushing a warm towel over his shoulder.
All of them sigh in relief when you leave unharmed.
You enter your bedroom, a little disappointed that you're unshowered, but not undeterred. You flop onto your bed, checking on the dateviators. You slip them onto your nose, fist pumping when they come to life.
Now, it’s time to find out what’s up with this damn house.
