Betty would be so heartbreaking because her whole story is about the yearning she does for you. Then she finally has you and afterwards the letter she would get? OUgh
And of course Skylar the one who made this all possible. You think she would feel guilt at the fact that she's the reason that not only had realized all people, but also was the reason why you met them in the first place?
Reggie did hate you, but you had been clever and somehow had gotten under his skin and now this letter? He hates you, actually hates you now. The pain, the angst AA
Celia and Florence having done so much to keep the household up, not finally free from that burden and yet the one who mattered so much slipping through their fingers and now wishing distance from them. I'm biting on the bars of my enclosure
@gears-twisting-and-turning
a/n ✒︎ YALL ARE FEEDING MY BRAIN WORMS SO WELL; just a heads up tho I haven’t played through MANY routes so if information is incorrect IM SORREYY
listen to she got away from chappell roan btw bc this song literally embodies this au so LOL
God just imagine the heartbreak Betty would experience :(( and it’s not like she didn’t communicate with you after the realization. In fact, she would constantly invite you over to her studio, and you’d show up with the cutest grin adorning your face. Betty then would insist you just need to stay nearby as she directs her actors. However, you would always manage to find work to do. Betty always appreciated it, rewarding you with many kisses. Her little lover and helper.
When Betty receives the your letter, she officially canceled multiple filming days for the first time ever. When did you start feeling this way? How didn’t she notice? You’re her lover for fucks sake, and yet she missed all the signs. Did she make you feel this way…?
If that’s the case, Betty’s glad you got away. She hopes you’ll be able to heal and recover from such a terrible mindset. And if it means she’ll never see you again?
Then so be it.
(So, no need to worry about her. She’ll deal with her guilt, loneliness, and the empty spot next to her alone. It’s nothing compared to the emotions she put you through. Betty would rather have her heart ripped out slowly just to see you smile once again.)
Skylar was the last one to be realized. The forgotten one. The tutorial character destined to be thrown aside for more conventional, more interesting leads. Yet you came back for her, ready to prove your truth no matter how long it would take: that you love her. It was only fair she did the same.
But after receiving your letter— reading it from top to bottom, multiple times until the sun began to set— tears streaming down her cheeks. Skylar’s whole existence is to give love… something you already did unconditionally. Yet, she left you all alone. She naively thought realizing everyone at your own pace would help with the heartache.
Skylar should’ve known the human heart will bleed in secrecy, no matter how much it’s hurting— than bother their loved ones.
(Had you always considered yourself as a ‘bother’? Despite her muddled mind, she continued to bring objects to life because it’s what she was made to do. Each time Skylar finalizes the process and sends them to explore the real word, the objects don’t mention her quivering hands.
If you ever come back with the little hope lingering in her chest, she’ll apologize. Then, if you never want to see her again, Skylar will do just that and disappear.
Because she wouldn’t forgive herself either.)
Okok so Reggie can react in two different ways about your letter. For the lighthearted readers, he 100% approves of what you’re doing. Is it also partially his fault and actively trying to crash out? Maybe. He honestly doesn’t knew whether to be proud or scornful, considering the fact he won’t be able to contact/see you either.
The second way is more angsty. Reggie would think it’s an hilarious prank you were pulling. The classic she-got-away move. He may not be the embodiment of hate anymore, but the emotion is engrained into his soul. It’s his livelihood. When he finally realizes you’re not coming back, he crashes out for real this time.
You were clever. Clever enough to get under his skin, ragebait him into state Reggie has never been in, and secured his love within ten minutes. Then you unbashfully showered him with your ‘hate’ everyday You participated in his groupie when he first made it. Every time Reggie’s eyes shined at the chaos, a mischievously grin displayed on his lips— you only gazed at the man tenderly. You would even brush a lock away from blocking his face.
(“Such a shame to cover your face, yeah? Let the world embrace who’s behind these misdeeds.”
Reggie practically preened at your words, that day, wordlessly leaning into your hand as he giggles. His one and only hater. He doesn’t acknowledge his heart fluttering at the way you would look at him.)
Yet, you decide to leave him behind anyways? Reggie’s hate organization began to wreak havoc even worse than before.
He grits his teeth as he launches a paper ball to signal the start of the groups usual crimes. Reggie feels stupid, and he briefly wonders if this is how Dorian felt like when he rejected him. Fine. If that’s how you want to play, then so be it. Your letter is in tatters— now being used as trashballs to throw at their suspecting victims.
(After all, the worst form of hate is to forget. So Reggie will do just that.)
Celia and Florence? They felt like they failed themselves, the other dateables, and most importantly— you.
Consistently managing and keeping order inside the house certainly causes headaches. However, you changed that. You freed them from their old burdens. Not only that, you taught them about society in general: how to act, what taxes are, medicine need when sick. When Florence felt overwhelmed at the information, you encouraged her. When Celia grew frustrated about her workload, you helped her relax. Then you would bid them farewell at the end of the day, departing with a kiss on their cheek.
Now you’re gone. No messages, no calls. Just a printed out letter mailed to their workplace. Florence wanted to immediately head to your place to apologize— to talk this out, but Celia stopped her, knowing you were long gone. They can only hope for your happiness. For your safety. Even when their stomach twists in desperation, unknowing if you even wanted them to care anymore.
(You had always teased them about their protection. Celia always made sure they received a text from you when arriving home. Under her usual classy demeanor, you knew it was a way to show her affection. You and Florence laugh about it everyday. After all, ensuring you’re safe proves the devotion they share.
With you gone, your text chat remains uncomfortably silent. Sometimes, Florence catches Celia just staring at her phone, almost hoping for something. A usual occurrence since you went MIA. Florence would then wrap her arms around her lover, no words being spoken.
On days where their phone does ding, they want to believe it’s you, texting that you’re back home safe and sound.
Deciding to sign your death warrant and decide to tease your lovers
Reader: Gender neutral (Afab)
People in this fic: Skylar, Connie, Harper, Betty and Ben-Hwa
Word count: 4019
Heavily inspired by @yuronic check out their account I’ve only read a little bit but I’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. I hope you don’t mind me taking some ideas and writing it out more!
If any of you wish to have more people with this prompt, do tell me because quite frankly I go insane about this prompt thank you so much for giving me this thought.
🔞SMUT MDNI🔞
---
Here was the thing: there was one thing that had terrified you more than anything when starting this whole ‘date your objects’ thing. It was when Skylar had told you that, in fact, everyone could see you even before you got the dateviators.
It was mortifying and you felt like being anywhere other than there at that moment. Like the floor could swallow you whole and you could just be safe from the embarrassment and shame you felt at that moment. Your cheeks were burning so much that it felt like you were sick.
However, after slowly gaining more and more lovers throughout the house; you realized that you could use this to your advantage. Today was the day you were going to test it out, you had found a few people that you had ideas for… Well that wasn’t entirely true, you had ideas for a lot of people, but these were like three people that were easiest to tease and two that just deserved it even if teasing them would be super hard to do.
Now you were awake and ready to put the plan into motion. It was a perfect morning and so you began.
—
Skylar was excited as always this morning. Another day another day of going around the house, dating objects and watching you just fumble or nail interactions. It was her favorite part to just watch you do your thing.
She loved just how much love you had in your heart.
The dateviators laid on your bedside table, carefully waiting for you to come back from your downstairs adventure to get breakfast and come back upstairs to put them on and get some dating done today.
Skylar watched you walk back into the room with a rather enticing smirk on your face. She smiled, excited as you carefully wrapped your fingers around the frames of the dateviators and brought the glasses closer to your chest.
But instead of putting them on you opened the legs of the glasses and grabbed something from your bedside table. It was a glasses case and you rather skillfully opened it with one hand and grabbed the soft cleaning cloth from it. That’s when you closed it and put it away again.
She watched you with confusion in her eyes, her lenses were perfectly clean. Not to mention you hadn’t even checked if they were dirty in the light or by putting them on. She watched you grab cleaning spray as well and could only narrow her eyes.
The thing was that you hadn’t once cleaned the glasses before, not to mention that Skylar kept herself perfectly clean. She liked the way you were thinking about her, but confused about your actions all at the same time.
That’s when you softly sprayed the lenses of the dateviators and Skylar couldn’t help, but gasp. It was a soft cold feeling, as if her thighs had small soft droplets of water on her thighs, slowly running down.
It was a surprising feeling, but the moment you put the soft cloth to the lenses and started softly rubbing the liquid off of the lenses, she felt herself crumble. It was as if your fingers softly grazed over her skin, rubbing her thighs.
The cloth made it feel like it wasn’t even directly on her skin, which made it feel even more infuriating. She felt herself get hot, starting to buck her hips up against absolutely nothing. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she felt herself getting more and more needy.
The worst part was that you were barely even doing anything. Maybe that was the one thing that got to her the most, she needed you to do more and yet you steadily kept rubbing the cloth on the lenses, taking your time with each lens. And that stupid fucking smirk on your face… She knew you were doing this on purpose.
A whine came out of Skylar as you sprayed the second lens and started rubbing the cloth on it. “Please, just put them on.” She whimpered to the one person that couldn’t hear her. She needed you to put your dateviators on soon.
She felt her legs buckle and she felt almost humiliated that such a soft loving touch could make her crumple this hard. Right now she didn’t think about it too much as she let herself fall to the floor.
You couldn’t feel the way she was gripping onto your pant legs, looking up at you with needy eyes. She knew you couldn’t see her, but she needed more of your touch, something, anything.
Instead the moment you were done, you softly put the dateviators away, right back on the bedside table you had with that same smirk you had been wearing this entire time. That’s when Skylar knew you had planned this. This is why you were wearing that smirk and she couldn’t help, but let out a cry of desperation.
After you had softly put her down, you left your room, going downstairs to your next target. Leaving Skylar kneeling on the ground, wishing you would come back and finish the job.
—
Connie blinked as she felt her console being turned on. The moment she looked over at the couch she saw you sitting on it, controller in hand and ready to play.
A wide grin came across her features as she bounced a bit in excitement. Sure you didn’t have the dateviators on so she wouldn’t be able to talk to you, but that was alright. You were still playing and so she was more than excited!
That’s when she faltered for a moment. You clicked on some buttons and instead of going into your inventory to check what you have for the boss battle, you went to your settings. You had already previously put them to your preferred settings so why were you changing them now?
She tilted her head to the side with a frown, unable to understand what you were doing. She leaned forwards even more confused when she saw you putting up the sensitivity of your controller, both in general and the vibration that would come through it.
That would be hard to play with, were you doing a challenge of some sorts? The spark of hope that came on Connie’s face was almost precious, if only you could see it.
It was rather easily crushed when you played into the epilogue of the character, which was basically more in the format of a visual novel. It was a long story with visuals and immersive vibrations where you simply just had to click through it. There were no shooters, none of the gameplay that would have you sitting there with your adrenaline pumping.
Safe to say Connie was confused. That was until the first vibration ran through the controller. She could feel her entire body shake, a jolt of pleasure going up her spine as it felt like electricity went through all of the important nerves to make her gasp and whine.
Now she was starting to see what you had in mind. It was made even worse when you stood up and slowly took off your pants, letting them pool at your ankles and sat right back down on the couch. Connie couldn’t ask what you were doing, couldn’t question your methods of playing a game.
It’s not like even with the dateviators she had much of a chance. You pressed one of the handles of the controller right to your clit through the thin fabric of your panties.
A strangled moan came out of Connie as she felt your heat press against her sides. That’s when another full body shiver came through her as the controller vibrated against your clit. Connie could only put her arms around her as she felt her nerves prickling.
Whines and moans came out of her, mirroring your own pleasured gasps and moans as you bucked your hips against the controller. She was panting, she couldn’t help it. Connie was a lot, a villain, a soldier, a hero, but never was she used to being in this position.
She felt herself start to drip through her bodysuit, her own cum slowly trailing down her thighs as another vibration shot through her. She felt herself start to drool, her eyes only on you as you pressed the controller tighter against you.
Connie didn’t think she could say anything. Not that you would hear anyways. She tried to grip the floor as tears of overstimulation came into her eyes. Please, please no more, I don’t think I can take another-
Her own thoughts were cut off as she felt another vibration go through her. Another strangled moan came out of herself as she came again. It was too much, the sensitivity was too high for any of this. That’s when she looked up and saw that you had finished the epilogue.
Connie’s gaze quickly snapped to you on the couch once more. She saw the damp spot in your panties as you grabbed a soft cleaning wipes and wiped off the controller. It didn’t help Connie’s skin as she felt like any touch was fire on her skin. She shivered as she felt herself being cleaned off.
The settings were set back to your normal preference and afterwards you walked over with the controller, putting it away.
The last thing Connie still remembers was your amused chuckle, a kiss on her body, before you shut off the console. Leaving Connie in the dark recovering. Oh she’s so going to get you back after that one. When she can finally remember how to move her body.
—
Harper sat in her corner, alone for the day. Just doing what she usually did; sit there and look pretty. She was waiting as usual for you to bring your dirty clothes to her and then eventually to give them up to go to Washford and Drysdale again.
Not to toot her own horn, but she feels she’s been getting a lot better with interacting with Dirk on a friendly basis and letting him go as well. Not perfect yet, but then again it was hard to do for Harper.
Last time you were with her, you had told her that you were proud of her. So she clung onto that to do even better. She didn’t have a praise kink, shut up.
Today you walked in with only a few pieces of laundry in your hands. Judging by the last time you came in, she would have assumed that you would have a few more pieces, but she isn’t one to judge very hard.
The moment you put the pieces of clothing in the hamper and left she couldn’t help, but be curious about what you left inside of her.
Harper grabbed the pieces of clothing and stopped dead in her tracks. It was a skimpy set of lingerie that had to be a size too small for you. The thought of you inside of it immediately flashed through Harper’s brain.
Her hands clamped around the fabric as the reminder of how they were barely your size made her thoughts change into all of it sitting much tighter against you. The fabric clamped harder making some of your curves spill out of the tight lingerie.
The simple thought got her already embarrassingly wet. Harper bit her lip as she shook off the thought of it. She couldn’t let her thoughts stray, she didn’t need to be needy from a simple thought of you. That felt humiliating all in itself and yet the humiliation burned deliciously in her veins. She would never admit she liked humiliation, ever.
It was easier said than done though. Her thoughts kept swirling around, no matter how much she tried to push them away. She kept biting her lip, so hard at some point that she swore she could taste blood in her mouth.
Her core felt like it was on fire as she tried to just keep her hands off the panties and inside of her hamper. She would keep them safe, safe from panty sniffing assholes like Dirk. That thought made her entire thought process stop in its tracks. A blush came on her cheeks as she pressed her thighs together.
No, she had to resist. She wasn’t going to be like him, it doesn’t matter that she wasn’t even sure if he did it okay?! Yet she could feel herself start to whimper and buck her hips into nothing to get any kind of friction as her thoughts slowly took her over.
Harper shook her head, she needed something, anything. She might otherwise go insane, she grabbed the panties out of her hamper and gripped the fabric tightly. Slowly her own fingers slipped into her skirt and into her own panties.
A relieved sigh came out of her as her fingers came into contact with her clit. Slowly she started to rub herself and couldn’t help, but put the fabric of the panties up to her nose. She practically inhaled your scent and with it was immediately thrown into a fantasy.
Slowly her daydream took form in front of her eyes. She was kneeling in front of you, waiting like a good girl until you have the good to go to start eating you out. She was waiting so well, but she just couldn’t stop herself from starting to touch herself.
You would scold her for doing so, maybe starting to move your hands to punish her. Before she could sink any further into her fantasy you walked into the laundry room. Harper’s eyes widened and with neck breaking speed threw the panties back where they were supposed to be and took her fingers out of her panties and skirt, putting both of her hands behind her back with a huge blush across her face.
Yet you still weren’t wearing the dateviators and she just embarrassed herself for nothing. Harper grumbled to herself, deciding to take a deep breath instead of flying off the handle like she usually did. Maybe she was embarrassed and felt humiliated, maybe she was disappointed you hadn’t walked into the room and caught her in a state like that. Who could tell?
The thing was that you once again walked towards her. Harper frowned and tilted her head to the side, confused. You had already dumped your clothing on her, why were you coming towards her again?
“Oh fucking shit it’s in Harper isn’t it?” She heard you mumble to yourself as you walked towards the woven hamper and took the lid off. “Sorry Harper, I lost my stud earring and I think it dropped somewhere inside of you.” You murmured towards the woven basket, still apologizing even without the dateviators on your face.
Harper yelped as she felt your body entering her woven basket form, feeling around the dirty clothes to find the stud earring you were talking about. The problem with this was that it felt like you were practically pressing up to her body, letting your hands glide over her entire body.
Right after her interruption her nerves felt like they were on fire. Her arms wrapped around your neck without you able to feel what she was doing, but she just held on as you roamed around the basket. Gasps came out of her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping this either would be over soon so she could take care of herself, or have you quickly put the dateviators on so she could ride your face sooner rather than later.
Little did she know that was not on the schedule today. You didn't want to lose your earring, but now you were digging in the woven basket looking for the tiny shiny thing, you realized that it was probably a good thing that happened.
And little did you know that it was working just as you had intended. Harper bucked up, trying to grind against you, but it had no real feeling as her physical object forms stood where it was. She couldn’t properly interact with you like this and it was fucking killing her.
Finally you found your earring and broke away from her, but it just left Harper with a whine as she crumpled to the floor. You walked away from her, but just before you left you turned back around with a smirk. “Thanks Harper.” You said with a wink.
Harper screeched. “Oh just you wait till you come back here with those stupid glasses on!”
Something that didn’t even reach your ears.
—
Finally it was time for the last two: Betty and Ben-Hwa. The two that were practically impossible to tease. They were used to a lot after all, it’s why you decided to throw both of them in the same corner. Because why not make your own life even better by teasing two rather impressive sexual powerhouses at the same time? Note the sarcasm.
You licked your lips, slightly nervous as you went back to your room. You knew this was going to definitely seal your fate the next time you put those dateviators on, but you know what? It was somewhat exciting, even though you could already feel how sore your muscles would be afterwards. It would be worth it. It’s what you told yourself. It’ll be worth it.
—
Betty watched you come back into the bedroom. She had watched your little stunt earlier with Skylar and was more than just a bit amused. She was proud even, so proud that you managed to make someone so needy for you.
Although she was slightly surprised too. You didn’t often come into the bedroom this early when you didn’t have the dateviators on, but a glint in your eyes told her there was more to this visit of yours.
That’s when she saw you walk towards the bed and softly sit on the edge of it. One of her eyebrows shot up, you weren't going to… No there was no way, was there? Betty watched you with observant eyes as you leaned forwards and took something out of your bedside table.
A smile came on her face as she knew she would most likely get to see Ben-Hwa again. And sure enough you grabbed a dildo out of the bedside table. After your ‘gag gift’ situation Ben-Hwa had made sure to get you more comfortable with sex toys, so you had a few extra all thanks to them.
You crawled fully onto the bed with the dildo. In a blink of an eye Ben-Hwa was sitting next to Betty with a sultry grin on their face. “Mhh~ We’re getting a show from our lover today?” They asked the bed who looked skeptical towards said lover.
“I’m not quite sure.” Betty answered with playfully narrowed eyes. Ben-Hwa turned to her confusion clearly on their face. “What are you talking about?” They asked, curious as to what Betty had witnessed.
Betty looked as you started taking off your clothes slowly, teasingly and she couldn’t help, but smirk. “Well you see this morning they had grabbed Skylar and made her a particularly whiny mess, before putting her back on the bedside Abel.” She said, not taking her eyes off of your tantalizing form.
She missed Ben-Hwa’s eyebrows shooting up at their eyebrows. “Wait, you think…?” They trailed off to which Betty finally broke her gaze towards you and nodded, letting her gaze land on them. “I think they’re going to try and tease us.”
Ben-Hwa couldn’t help, but smirk. “Oh, this will be interesting.” They said, matching the smirk that had made its way on Betty’s lips. Maybe even more so than her as a glint of intensity twinkled in their eyes.
They both watched as you laid down on the bed. Sure that you wouldn’t be able to do anything to tease them. The thing was you knew it was practically impossible to properly tease them. So you had thought of the one thing that might be seen as light teasing; frustrate them.
You put the dildo in between your thighs, yet not all the way up to your pussy. Then you laid on your side and breathed in deeply hoping that this would work as you didn’t want to stand there and be embarrassed by the thing you were doing.
Softly you bucked your hips forwards, feeling the dildo between your thighs, so close yet so far away. Ben-Hwa looked at you with a frown. “What are they doing? That’s it? That’s the teasing?” They asked, looking back over at Betty to check if what they were seeing was correct.
Betty just hummed, looking at your writhing form, unsure of what you were exactly doing. That’s when she tensed up, hearing a small pleading whine spill from your lips. “Betty.” It was so quiet and yet so clear to her ears.
She felt herself gulp as her eyes glued on you. Besides her, Ben-Hwa looked between you and Betty. “Ohhhh.” They didn’t say anything more. It was clear they started to understand what you were doing.
You kept doing the same thing, over and over. The soft skin on your thighs started to grate on Ben-Hwa’s skin as they had to bite on the chains between their handcuffs to ground them.
Meanwhile your soft pleads for Betty, the way you moaned and whined for her, it practically killed Betty not to be able to be there for you. You had played both of them perfectly, not easy to tease unless you knew exactly what to press on.
Ben-Hwa had never been the patient one and Betty had always yearned to have you close. Now you were once again just within reach and yet so far away, for both of them. And you didn’t stop just after a few minutes, oh no, that wouldn’t get to them.
You continued this exact same motion for what felt like hours, it was delicious torture for the both of them. “Oh my god just put it in.” Ben-Hwa whined out, even unable to touch themself or Betty. They didn’t know why, they just felt it was wrong, they wanted your touch and they had never realized how bad craving someone specific could be until now. Maybe they were starting to understand what Betty was talking about that one time you walked in on them and Betty talking, before you were the lover of either of them.
Meanwhile Betty couldn’t tear her eyes away from you, she could barely move as she was hypnotized by your movements. “They’re playing a very dangerous game.” Betty said, when she finally managed to snap out of it.
“I say we team up on them the next time they put those damn glasses on.” Ben-Hwa said towards the bed, clearly frustrated and practically vibrating with the need to touch you, to bend you over and just rail into you until you didn’t know your own name anymore.
“I agree, but I say we let the others take revenge for. I don’t know how many people were victims to them today…” Betty trailed off, before looking at Ben-Hwa with that dangerous glint they loved so much about her. “But after they’re done and they’re already overstimulated, that’s when we get them.”
Ben-Hwa smirked as they put their arms around Betty’s neck. “Have I ever told you how much I love this side of you?” They asked and Betty simply chuckled. “You’ve told me a few times, but I appreciate it every time you do, darling.”
It was as if you knew to what point you pushed them, as you removed the dildo from your now wet thighs and cleaned it, before putting it back where you stored it. As you walked away to take a long bath upstairs the two objects you just teased watched you leave.
“Oh that little-”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get them back.”
And you had not a clue just how hard you made this for yourself. But you’d survive all of that right? Right?
Skylar's app isn't working and you can't really dateviate your dateviators, so your forced to get help from the others.
or
Skylar worked herself sick and can't answer her app summoning, so you to her instead.
(CW: Sickness, obviously. Emetophobia warning)
(If anyone has a request on who they'd like to see next, feel free to ask, just pick someone off the list :3)
I'm also probably going to start writing a new fic. It'll be a Tony x male (or nonbinary, I haven't decided) reader 😌
“Skylar, Skylar, Skylar…” you repeat to an empty room, spinning around in circles, wobbling slightly.
You’re kind of hoping that saying her name enough will summon her like Beetlejuice, but so far, your efforts have been for naught. Her app hasn’t been working and you can’t exactly dateviate the dateviators.
You’re not sure if she’s purposefully doing it or if Phoenicia is in need of another update. You groan, pulling your phone out; she’s not warm, so that’s a good sign.. You think. You click on Phonecia’s app, backing up slightly when she pops up.
“Good morningggg, my love,” Phoenicia beams, wrapping you in a tight hug, “What hot goss can I fill you in on?”
“Morning, Phoenicia, I actually need help with something,” you tell her, hugging her back, “Are you ok, Sky’s app isn’t working and I wanted to make sure you were ok.”
“Oh, yeah, honey! I’m peachy,” she assures you, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, “I don’t know why Sky’s app isn’t working. I can go check on her, give me two minutes and I’ll be right back with that pretty, little lady!”
You nod, shuffling your weight nervously, waiting for Phoenicia to return. You pop your lips, rocking between the balls of your feet and your heels. She returns with a grim look on her face, and you internally start freaking out… Maybe a little externally too.
“Oh, my god. Where is she? Is she okay? Did her suspension of disbelief break again?” you try to peak over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of a certain pink haired woman.
“Sweetheart, calm down. She’s resting. Her suspension of disbelief is fine, but--”
“But?” you ask a little too loudly, interrupting Phoenicia, which gains you a smack on the back of the head, “Sorry. Continue.”
“Mhm.. Anyway, as I was saying she’s sick--”
“Sick!?” you exclaim, staring at Phoenicia like she might’ve personally inflicted Skylar with the plague. You get smacked again, a little harder this time.
“Quit interrupting me!” she orders, glaring at you, “Again, as I was saying. She’s sick. I think she’s been overworking herself.”
Your mouth opens to interrupt her again, but she pins you with a stern look and you think otherwise, allowing her to continue.
“As you’re aware, she was the one who initially suggested avoiding you and I know we apologized, but she still feels guilty, so she’s been working overtime to make sure everything is working in pristine condition,” she explains, rubbing her thumbs in soothing circles on your arms, “You can speak now.”
You release the breath you were holding, your entire chest deflating, “Can I see her?” is all you ask, deciding to spare your lovely phone your barrage of questions.
“I think she’d like that,” Phoenicia nods, taking your hand and leading you to Skylar’s room/apartment thing.
You know that all of the dateables have their own place, but you’ve only ever actually been to Eddie and Volt’s place, since it’s right above the bar. Phoenicia releases your hand, gesturing towards the door, which you can hear coughing and sniffling coming from inside the room.
“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Always happy to help,” she smiles, kissing the corner of your mouth before taking her leave.
You knock on Skylar’s door, slowly opening it, “Sky, honey bee, you in here?” you peek into the room, frowning slightly at the pile of blankets on the bed, the only sight of life being tufts of pink hair poking out.
“Noooo, go away, I’m sick,” she groans, her voice stuffy and nasally.
You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you’d be able to get sick from her, but you push forward. Even if you can, it’d be worth it. You shut the door behind you, sitting down on the edge of her bed, taking the time to look around her room.
“Hey, Sky.. Heard you were feeling under the weather,” you murmur, setting a hand on the lump of blankets, hoping that she can feel it. “Your white knight is here to nurse you back to health.”
She finally pops her head out, looking all sorts of pathetic: red and runny nose, bag under her glassy eyes, the works. She pouts at you, seemingly trying to glare at you in disapproval, “I don’t want to get you sick.”
“Can you even get me sick? I mean, how would that work?” you wonder, laying down in bed with her. You set a hand on her forehead, wincing at the warmth coming off of her, “Oh, honey bee, you’re burning up.”
“I know, I’ve been trying to sweat it out,” she mumbles, grabbing your hand, pressing it to her chest to cuddle with it.
“Do you need anything?” you ask quietly, brushing your free hand through her slightly damp hair, lightly scratching her scalp.
“No…I just want you,” she admits, reaching out for, pulling you into her chest like her own personal stuffed animal. She blearily nuzzles against your chest, squishing her cheek into your skin.
“That works,” you chuckle, curling up with her. You rest your head on top of her head, sighing softly.
“Night-night,” she slurs, eyes fluttering shut, quiet snores leaving her.
You fall asleep shortly after her, surprisingly lulled by her little snores. You don’t know how long you're asleep before you're jostled awake by Skylar rushing out of bed, the sound of heaving following shortly after.
You toss the covers off of you, following her into the bathroom, watching her lean over the toilet. You come up behind her, gathering her hair in your hands, holding it back for her. It’s over as quickly as it started, leaving Skylar resting her forehead against the rim of the bowl. It takes you a second to realize that she’s crying.
“Oh, Sky… Hey, it’s okay,” you whisper, sitting down on the floor next to you, rubbing circles onto her back. You get it, you cry every time you get sick too.
“No, it’s not okay,” she argues weakly, watching her tears hit the bathroom tile.
------------
“It is. It’ll be okay, it’s probably just a twenty-four hour stomach bug,” you tell her, still rubbing her back.
The genuine care in your tone makes her sick to her stomach- again. You’ve always been so good to her, to everybody, even after all they did to you. She reaches behind herself, weakly pushing your hand away. She doesn’t deserve your comfort.
“It’s not okay!” she exclaims, sobbing into her arm, “How can you still look at me after everything that’s happened?”
If she hadn’t been such an idiot with an idiot-er idea, then you never would’ve gotten hurt. Everybody would still be happy.
“Sky--”
“No, no, no! Don’t you ‘Sky’ me,” she scoffs, swatting your outreaching arm, “what I did was horrible. I’d hate me. I’m pretty sure some of the dateables hate me, I get it.”
She sniffles, growing more annoyed at herself and her stupid clogged nostrils and the way the lights are making her head spin and you. Stupidly perfect you, with your concerned puppy dog eyes and caring smile and sweet tone. If you were even slightly less lovely, life would be so much easier because she wouldn’t feel like major shit!
“I-I-I.. I’m horrible!” she mumbles, knocking her forehead back against the porcelain.
------------
“Skylar, you’re not horrible,” you tell her, setting a hand on her thigh, brushing your thumb over the fabric of her fuzzy pajama pants, “And nobody hates you: not me, not the dateables, and I really hope not yourself.”
When she doesn’t immediately reject the hand on her thigh, you slowly pull her into your lap, cradling her like a treasure. You brush your hands through her hair, resting your chin on her shoulder.
“It’s just the sickness talking, okay? You’re being dramatic,” you add, carefully rocking the two of you back and forth.
“It’s not,” she denies, shaking her head, accidentally bumping your heads together. You wince, but don’t move, not wanting to spook her.
“It is,” you insist, lightly kissing her shoulder before moving her out of your lap and standing up. You help her up, letting her lean against the counter. “You are going to brush your teeth and lay back down and I am going to go see if I can get Stefan to whip up some soup.”
Skylar wants to argue, she really does, but she doesn’t have the energy. It’s probably for the best anyway and soup does sound really good, “Okay.”
“Okay,” you parrot, kissing her hot forehead before leaving her alone in the bathroom.
You return a little over twenty minutes later, finding Skylar asleep in bed again. You peel some of the blankets back, pressing a hand to her forehead; she feels less warm than she did earlier, so that’s good.
“Mmm, your back,” she mumbles sleepily, cracking one of her eyes open. She perks up when she sees the bowls of soup, “Chicken noodle, no celery?”
“Ahh, no. It’s actually split pea and celery soup, Stefan said he wanted to try something new,” you tell her apologetically, a solemn look on your face. It cracks when she stares at you like you’ve grown three heads, “Kidding, it’s chicken noodle.”
“You’re so mean,” she huffs, sitting up in bed, “I could be dying and you’re teasing me.”
“Does it help if I said that I brought rolls?” you ask, sitting down on the bed in front of her, setting a tray down between the two of you, placing the food down.
“A little,” she nods, taking the spoon you hold out for her, “Thank you.”
“Mhm, happy to help,” you tell her, ripping one of your rolls in half, dipping it into your bowl of soup, “You feel any better? You didn’t feel as warm as you were.”
“Yeah, I think puking actually helped,” Skylar whispers, more focused on slurping up the soup like a heathen, “Mm-mm-mm, this is really good.”
“Yeah, Stefan always delivers. I’ll have to get him to give me his recipe one day,” you agree, following Skylar’s example and ditching the spoon.
“Ha! I don’t think he loves you enough for that,” she giggles, tearing a chunk of her roll off and tossing it at you, bouncing it off your forehead.
You scoff indignantly, tossing it back at her with a snort, “Yeahhh, I know. He may love me, but he’ll take those recipes to the grave,” you sigh wistfully, setting your bowl down. “As long as he keeps making them for me, that’s fine.”
“Exactlyyyy, I rue the day he stops cooking for us,” she nods slowly, eyes shut in bliss as she finishes up the last dredges of her soup, setting the empty bowl on her bedside table.
“Let’s hope nobody pisses him off enough that he cuts us off.” You finish shortly after her, moving the tray to the floor.
You scoot forward a little, taking her hands in yours, brushing your thumbs over her knuckles, “Do you want to talk about earlier?”
Skylar tilts her head away from you, refusing to meet your gaze, “Not really.” She chews on her bottom lip, sighing, “But we should.”
“Yeah, we should, do you want to start or should I?” you ask, grabbing a blanket to drape over your laps.
------------
“I’ll start,” she tells you, fiddling with a fraying string on the blanket, pulling at it until it snaps. “You obviously know how I feel about…everything and the role I played in it..”
She sighs, finally looking at you again. She reaches over, setting a hand on your cheek, caressing your skin. You’re so sweet it makes her teeth ache, “I made a stupid decision out of selfishness and that hurt you and I’m so, so sorry.”
Her voice cracks, tears welling up in her eyes, but she pushes forward, “I know that I’ve apologized, probably a million times by now, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough- it’s not enough. You said it yourself, apologies aren’t just a fast track to making everything right.”
Her breathing shudders, wiping her tears off with her sleeve, “That’s why I’ve been working so hard, y’know? To make sure everything is perfect for you, making sure everyone is running at their peak.”
“Sky, honey bee, that’s not your responsibility,” you murmur, leaning into her palm, mirroring the gesture and putting a hand on her cheek, swiping away a stray tear she missed.
“I know, but I feel like it is. I’m trying to prove to you that I still deserve your love,” she presses her face into your palm, nuzzling against it, “I’ve been trying to prove to myself that I still deserve your love.”
There, she said it and she didn’t spontaneously combust. That’s a good sign. She finally takes a breath, focusing on the feeling of your hand on her face.
------------
You just want to squeeze Skylar so tight right now, wrap her up in a hug and only let her go once she realizes that she’s always worthy of your love. You scoot over to her, pulling her into the tightest hug you can manage.
“Honey bee, of course you’re deserving of my love,” you promise, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “I love you, okay?”
“But--... nevermind, okay,” she nods, burying her face into your shoulder.
The two of you lay back down, limbs entangled with each other. Your hand runs through Skylar’s hair, scratching her scalp.
“I still can’t believe that you’re not mad at me,” she mumbles into your skin.
“Uh oh,” you gasp, pulling her away from you, looking at her with a grime expression.
“What?” she looks worried now, pink brows pinching together.
“I think your suspension of disbelief is broken again,” you tell her, pursing your lips and shaking your head like a doctor who just delivered a horrible prognosis.
Her worried expression drops, now looking annoyed at you, “Seriously? I thought there was something wrong!”
“There is! It’s broken!” you exclaim, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her lightly.
“It’s not!” she retorts, smacking your shoulder.
“Then take your disbelief and suspend it!” you quip, pursing your lips to try and keep your serious facade up, “Because I’m not mad at you.” You finally break, a smile replacing the thin line your lips were in, booping her nose, “I promise.”
“You’re an idiot,” she scoffs, booping your nose back.
“You’re a bigger idiot, considering you think that I should be mad at you,” you point out, flicking her nose.
“Hey!” she rubs the tip of her nose, pouting at you.
“Is your disbelief suspended?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, holding your hands up in a clawed position, ready to tickle if necessary.
Skylar’s eyes widen when she realizes what that threatening motion is, “It’s suspended!” she promises.
You sic the claws on her anyway, tickling her sides while she squirms and squeals, “I didn’t hear you! What’s been suspended?”
“My disbelief!” she squeaks, trying to wiggle her way away from the torture.
“Your disbelief of what?” you question, hooking a leg over her hip to keep her in place.
“That you're not mad at me and still love me,” she answers quickly, face turning red, “I deserve your love and you're not mad at me.”
The tickling stops once she finally admits it, a pleased smile on your face. You squeeze her tightly, kissing her forehead, “That’s right. You deserve love and I’m not mad at you.”
She pants, pushing you away, “You’re mean,” she huffs, sticking her tongue out at you like a child.
“I know, I’m so evil,” you giggle, pulling her back into a hug.
“The evil-ist.”
She cuddles into your chest, finally catching her breath, letting her eyes fall shut. You can’t tell if she’s tired from the sickness or if you wore her out. Either way, it’s probably a good idea for her to get some rest.
“I love you,” you whisper, pulling the blankets over the two of you.
She doesn’t hesitate this time or argue that you shouldn’t, “I love you too.”
(CW: panic attack, reader/player character throws up)
Everybody is back to normal now! Yay! Right? That's what you wanted, isn't it? RIGHT?
I've also decided to do more in depth one-shots of the characters apologizing after I'm done with the main story, so if anyone has requests for certain characters, ask away! I already plan on doing Abel, Celia, Daisuke, Dorian, Curt&Rod (request), Eddie&Volt, Skylar, and Tony, so no need to ask for them!
I also don't know how many more chapters I want to do, but I think we're nearing the end here, maybe three more chapters? I don't have anything planned, so we'll see.
You and Telly spend the day watching TV together; anything from Big Bang Theory to KPop Demon Hunters. Sadly, the dateviators don’t last forever, and neither does your ability to stay conscious. You left Telly with a hug and kiss, thanking him for the fun day.
The bedroom is silent when you enter, not even the Hanks make a peep, “Hey, sweetheart, come on over,” Betty coos, breaking the silence.
Your head whips up, throat going dry at the sight of her. You haven’t talked to her since movie night, and your nightmare lingers in the back of your mind. You shuffle over to the bed, sitting down next to her.
“There you are, honey,” she pulls you into a side hug, running her hand up and down your arms, “You feeling ok?”
“Mhm,” you hum affirmatively, staring directly at the wall in front of you, “Tired, y’know? Long day.”
“Oh, of course, let’s get you tucked in,” she gently pushes you down, tucking you beneath the covers, “I’ll be here when you wake up, goodnight,” she kisses your forehead and you remove the glasses, laying frigid beneath the blankets.
You can’t manage to fall asleep, no matter how hard you try. Every time you close your eyes, you feel like there’s ants crawling up your spine. There’s so many people in your room, people who can see you--and judge you--without you ever knowing.
The sun is rising the next time you open your eyes, birds whistling right at your window the way they do every morning. You stare at the dateviators long and hard before deciding to forgo them, for now at least. You can’t bear to face any of them, especially not this early in the morning.
------------
The dateables are forced to watch you go through your morning routine without them: no morning chat with Kopi over coffee, no humming along with Miranda as you make toast, no belting out lyrics horribly with Johnny as you shower, not even a ‘House Homie’ acknowledged when you get dressed.
They can’t hold it against you, but it hurts. All of them finally got used to having you be able to live life with them and now that’s gone.
------------
The glasses seem to haunt you every step you take, rose-colored lenses glaring back at you. You’re kneeled in front of the side table, debating the consequences of putting them on. Your hand juts back and forth, like playing a round of hot hands by yourself.
Ultimately, you decide that it’s best to get it over with, forcing the glasses onto your face like you’re expecting them to shoot off in the opposite direction. The house feels…Normal, almost, but there’s this weird sort of tension that makes your skin crawl.
“Morning, love,” Dorian smiles when you leave the bedroom, opening himself politely, like always.
“...Morning,” you parrot, side-shuffling through the doorway.
Everybody greets you in their typical fashion when you pass them, acquiring hugs and kisses from each of them. None of them mention anything; not about the cuts, or why they've been acting strange, it’s just right back to normal.
You peek around the corner, stepping into the kitchen so carefully one might assume it’s a landmine field, “Good morning, my dearest,” comes from your side, making you scream a little. You hadn’t heard anyone approach.
Your blood runs cold when you see Daisuke standing there, a prim smile on his perfect lips, not even a crease of anger on his face, “Daisuke, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to break it, it just slipped out of my hands and I couldn’t stop it and I’m sorry.”
“Dearest,” he grabs your hands, stopping them from their flailing gesticulating, his facade flickering ever-so-slightly at the state your hands are in, “I’m not mad.”
You pause in your teary rambling, “What?” you pull your hands back, staring at him like he’s grown three heads. Last time you broke a plate, he banned you from dinnerware for two weeks, and he yelled. Which he apologized and made up for, but still.
“I’m not mad,” he repeats, not making a move to grab your retracted hands, “It was an accident.”
“Right, it was,” you agree, biting down on the inside of your cheek, “But--”
“No buts,” he says, waggling a finger at you, “now, I do need to go do inventory, but shall I see you later?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, leaving you with a quick kiss and departing as silently as he arrived. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, taken off-kilter by the interaction. You’re snapped out of it when you hear a snicker, turning to see your duo of shady lovers.
“Not into the dirty talk, huh?” Curt teases, coming over to lean against your back, draping his arms over your shoulders.
“What’s his version of dirty talk anyway? Telling you how naughty you are for not washing a dirty dish?” Rod piles on, smoothing out wrinkles from your shirt, “... Nothing? C’mon that was funny!”
“Sorry, still waking up,” you apologize, running a hand down your face. Curt’s weight over your back is usually comforting, but now it’s overwhelming.
“It’s all good, we’ll lay off the shade this fine morning,” they promise, leaning in to nuzzle against your cheeks.
The contact raises goosebumps and not in a good way, “Thanks, I’m gonna.. Go,” you announce, squirming out of their grip, hurrying out of the kitchen.
You stumble through the house, feeling your throat close up. There’s so many people in this house, infesting every room, judging your every move. You barrel into the bathroom, tossing the glasses aside before hurling this morning’s breakfast. You make a mental note to make it up to Jean Loo later.
The world spins, tears blur your vision, and your breath is coming in short waves. You can’t tell what’s going on: one day they love you, the next they hate you, and now they’re back to normal. You can’t handle the switch. Them hating you is fine, but the flip-flopping is tearing you apart.
------------
Skylar is pacing, chewing on the ends of her hair, “What’s wrong with them? Why’re they freaking out?” she asks your back, wishing you hadn’t taken the glasses off.
“I don’t know, they just came in here!” Johnny yells back, sweeping a hand through his hair.
“Maybe they do have a concussion, I could’ve missed something,” Farya suggests, looking through her notes of your diagnosis, “Plus, concussion symptoms can take up to forty-eight hours to present themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s it, Farya,” Dorian interjects, looking over the woman’s shoulder at you, currently hunched on the floor, “They’re havin’ another panic attack.”
“But why?” Amir asks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I don’t know!” the door snaps, glaring daggers at the mirror, “Who was the last one to talk to them?”
“That’d be us,” Curt and Rod make their presence known, faces devoid of their average smirks, “one second they were fine--said they were tired, but that’s it--the next they were running off.”
“What’d you say to them?” Dorian asks gruffly, looking at the pair like he’s ready to rip their seams.
“Nothing, we swear it,” they back up slightly, not wanting to be in Dorian’s reach, “they just freaked.”
------------
You pull away from the toilet bowl, leaning against the cabinet, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths. Your hand reaches out, blindly searching for the dateviators, tucking them into your pocket for safe keeping.
You freshen up once you're calm enough, taking a second to look at yourself in the mirror. You look like shit: stitches in your forehead, a scrape on your chin, looking a total mess, feeling like it too.
The dateviators stay off the rest of the day, which you spend almost entirely on the couch. Part of you is tempted to put them back on, to converse with Telly or sit in silence with Koa, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.
------------
Skylar is in Celia’s office, a couple others waiting by the door, “I don’t know what to do! First we avoid them, so we don’t hurt them: that’s no good. We go back to normal and now they’re avoiding us! Nothing is working!”
“Skylar, freaking out isn’t going to help,” Celia reminds, guiding Skylar to sit down, “We’ll think of something.”
“Has anyone tried, I don’t know, talking to them?” someone asks out of blue, compelling head’s to turn, finding Telly standing there, a lazy look on his face, “What?” they ask, shrugging at the onslaught of looks he’s receiving.
“Listen, they talked with me yesterday and you guys really hurt them, so maybe try apologizing instead of this bullshit,” they suggest, pushing off the wall, into a fully standing position, “But, seriously, what gives? You’ve all been acting wack since movie night.”
All of them pause to think about that, they hadn’t thought about apologizing, they didn’t think they did anything wrong. Everything they did was for your own good.
“Well, yeah. That documentary showed us how dangerous we are to the human,” Abel speaks up, fiddling with the brim of his hat, “you saw what I did to them.”
They all nod in agreement, looking between each other. This never would’ve happened if you didn’t pick that stupid documentary.
“What documentary?” Telly questions, thinking back to everything they’ve watched in the past days. Unless you’re cheating on him, nobody’s watched a documentary.
“The one we watched on movie night?” Skylar asks, confused by his confusion, “Finally Destined.. Or Final Destination, I think.”
Telly’s brows shoot to his forehead, looking at them like they’re stupid, because they are, “‘Final Destination’? You mean the horror-thriller movie that depicts the over-dramatic deaths of people because they’re being hunted by a supernatural entity?”
Realization washes over everybody, thinking back to the movie, “The movie isn’t a documentary? I thought most horror movies were based on true stories,” Celia asks, brows furrowing slightly.
“Some are, but definitely not this one,” Telly informs, grimacing at their foolishness. Of all the movies, Final Destination is the one that freaked them out? “This is great. You’ve all been ignoring the human over a movie. Who needs soap operas when you live in a house like this?”
“Telly,” Celia says his name warningly, shaking her head at them.
“Sorry, it’s just… Wow!” he laughs, bowing his head to try and hide the fact, “Talk to them and remind me to never let you guys watch a horror movie again. I’m just glad we didn’t watch The Shining or poor Dorian would be trembling in his boots.”
“That’s enough from you, Telly. Thank you,” Celia waves him off and they shrug, walking back into the other room.
A hush falls over the room; no one is confident to speak up. They hurt you over a movie, not even a movie based on a true story. How could this happen? Between all of them, someone should’ve been smart enough, but no one did. They were blind.
“They’ll understand, right?” Skylar whispers, but it might as well have been announced via megaphone in the quiet room.
