—Mii’

I write what I like. She/He | Aroace-spec

[wrotebymii]

READ ME || WROTEBYMII -> MASTERLIST

This is my blog where I’ll be posting fan fictions and other media related things towards stuff I like. I want to acknowledge that this blog is 18+ and isn’t suitable for younger ages. Self-preservation is more important than a lame blog. REQUEST: CLOSED

Hi! I’m Mii and this is my blog, I write what I enjoy on here and sometimes follow requests at are within my boundaries. I’m on the aroace-spec but I oddly enjoy writing romance/fanficion/smuts. I haven’t written in a very long time so bare with the spelling mistakes or any errors that might be in posts. Trying to find my voice again.

I also like drawing and might show some of that on here!

[yuckmr-deactivated20251218]

"I miss my wife, tails." I say, staring longingly at a picture of a grown ass man.

[chatterrbox]

Whoever drops a Prism x fem!reader fic first, I'll literally marry you. "Robert!" "Blonde blazer!" "Invisigal!" SHUT UP AND GIVE ME PRISM. I WANT PRISM TO PIN ME DOWN AND DROWN MY VOICE OUT WITH MUSIC PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND AS SHE SCISSORS ME INTO THE MATTRESS. Or ride my face to heaven, honestly don't care, I just want her.

Okay, thanks❤️

[wrotebymii]

Hi, might start writing again for Dispatch — I hope it’ll help me finish the date everything fics! However, it is a HUGE might.

[wrotebymii]

I’m gonna be so honest, pookies—All my date everything works will be put on hiatus, school has started up so I barely have time to work plus I’m out of my hyper fixation with the fandom.

I’m sorry :(

[wrotebymii]

I’m coming back with the milk, I PROMISE.

[wrotebymii]

I might add Squid Games to my fandoms I write for. I’ll finish up my drafts before working on new fandom fics but Hyun-ju MY BELOVED RAHHH.

[wrotebymii]

Okay. I’m not feeling great about ‘House Fiend’

I lowkey have a better idea for it that’s a bit more put together than what i originally published. I wished I worked on it before posting it but this new idea honestly feels like I can give you more. Fluff angst the whole nine yards.

So I’ll be unpublishing House Fiend part one soon and re-working on it.

I’m also still working on ‘Maybe it’s me…’!

[wrotebymii]

I need more Chance fics, PLEASE.

Anyways here’s a drawing of him.

[wrotebymii]

HOUSE FIEND | Date Everything gn!Reader

Summary: You are the friend of the Homeowner, they need you to house sit for a month. During the time weird things happen that you hope to ignore.

Warning: Fluff, banter. I named the homeowner ‘Homie’ cause I can’t keep calling them homeowner, Homie befriended everyone, no love plot.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME

What you thought of Homie didn’t really matter, you were friends with them and Sam. Though, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t think they were slightly crazy—since the group chat consisted of them ranting about their…household objects…and their relationship status with each of ‘em.

You’d also be a liar if you said you weren’t at least a little bit curious about ‘Dateviators’ especially now because they asked you to house-sit for them. You stared at the message blankly, not reading the entire paragraph of why they needed to be away from the house for a long period of time—something about making sure they aren’t on their trail about having the glasses…whatever that meant.

You type back “yap alert” then adding “sure”

Then going back to mundane work life, when your manager snapped at you for slacking. Hmm, maybe a month house sitting and working at home would be better.

You wouldn’t say you’re a hermit like Homie, but sitting somewhere that isn’t a cramped cubicle would be a nice new environment. And keep you from the itching that thought in the back of your head to resign.

After a few weeks of preparation and informing your bosses that you’ll be working from home for the time being, you grab your packed backpack and walk up to their home. You’re about to knock on the door with your knuckles but you notice the…rather small door knocker and gently use that instead.

Dorian was apprehensive at first seeing you, readying himself for an obnoxious pound at the door that would escalate to more knocking when Homie didn’t come fast enough, but no. You stopped yourself and used the actual door knocker and waited patiently.

He liked you already, platonically, of course.

Homie opened the door and not so gracefully dragged you inside. They looked paranoid looking you up and down with aviators as if you’re a spy—shaking their head they started explaining. Something about how their parents are finally talking with them again, and blah blah blah.

“I can’t take Sky- Er…the glasses with me cause they’d probably take her back, and these are like my prized possession…” Rightfully ignoring the feminine pronouns for the glasses, cause what? You tease them a bit.

“Good to know your bank will repossess…glasses instead of like? Your car or something to inconvenience you more” From behind you, the curtains hung up on a bronze rod ruffle. Homie glares at it.

“Okay, it seems to me that you need to spend some time out of this house…and…interact with humans” The stairs creak along with the walls—something from the living room shutters.

You don’t notice Homie muttering under their breath “they didn’t mean it like that…”

“Your house makes a lot of noise, huh?” You ask, they guide you around each room, they grab their luggage rushing out the door—waving at things…then turning to me as they’re stepping outside. The door groans as if displeased, causing Homie to sigh.

You ignore it, better for your sanity to place logical reason to it. They grab your hands firmly, then take off the glasses and place them in your palm—like it’s a sacred symbol.

“Take care of the house, I hope you get alo—ugh just be nice, don’t break things…or insult things.” They say with a wave of their hand trying to articulate their wishes best for you.

“Also, feel free to use the glasses…I think they—well maybe not all of them but new faces are nice, I think” They pause pondering the thought comedically. Their statements and backtracking is throwing you through a loop.

“Okay, I don’t have time to explain the glasses, but if you try them I’m sure Skylar is willing to help you—‘kay byyye!!” They skip away nearly tripping on the walkway payment to their car. You laugh which was more like a huff.

You placed a hand on the back of the door to close it but it quickly shuts on its own, and a click locks. You stand there processing the weirdness of that but to convince yourself you mutter.

“Must’ve been the wind…” Look down at the top lock that you knew you didn’t touch.

“…intelligent wind…” You felt a breeze caress your check—not wanting to stay and stare in one place that would likely make you lose it and probably talk to—you don’t know maybe the personification of dread, just spitballing. You take your bag and place it next to the sofa and the glasses on the coffee table. Deciding that you’ll be sleeping there after you plopped down and melted into the cushioning.

You rather not sleep in Homie’s bed after giving great detail about how the Dateviators worked and how most of their home appliances are frisky. They never said that they’ve slept with any of them but you couldn’t get the teasing comments you’d make with Sam about it.

Thus, sleeping on the sofa no matter how many kinks you get in your neck or sore spots you get. Now that you think of it. How many of your friend’s household necessities are sentient? Also, how does that work?

You look at the glasses on the table that felt like they were inching closer to you. If—hypothetically—you were to put them on in your home would it be the same set of people or different? What are the laws of their physics? Is the object their body—or does the glasses make them transform into a mirror person? Or maybe it just takes their consciousness and personifies it instead of the inanimate object—

You groan and log your head back against the couch, bringing a hand up to rub between your eyes.

First day you and you were already thinking of the impossible, becoming your friend.

You need to do something to keep your mind off it.

Maybe writing out some emails will help.

You pretend to not care about how you felt you were being watch but in a weirdly comforting—almost robotic way. Like a person looking out for someone they don’t really know but need to be friendly with.

Weird things have started happening that you refuse to understand or accept in anything other form than a vague logical explanation.

You were working inside the office, they allowed you to use their computer you ignored when they said “they’re friendly”

It ran faster than the company issued one in your cubicle, you were nearly done with a very long chain email to your co-workers when out of the corner of your eye something moved. You didn’t even glance at first thinking it was from the light coming from the windows behind you.

It happened again. You squint at the monitor forcing yourself to stay focused, then again, then—drop.

Something fell, hit the side of the desk making a wobbled thud and onto the rug. You snapped your head to the side, realizing that the red die was missing.

You get up and peer over, seeing it laying on the ground. Rolled onto a 20. You roll your eyes and snicker. Picking it up and placing it back where it was—sitting back in the chair to start typing where you left off only to notice that…it's completely finished.

You scroll through the email—your email and are completely bewildered by the perfect spelling and even creative suggestions for the upcoming events at the office. You slack your head into your palm, mouth agape as you read through it.

Homie did say…the computer was…friendly.

You take a few minutes to think about if you should scrap it or let it be and send it. Sighing with a reluctant hmm.

Mac takes it as a thank you.

You needed a break and a high dose of caffeine…or maybe something from that mini bar you’ve been eyeing—why did Homie even have a mini bar?

Through the walkway and into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. There were some cute decorative cups by it that you placed on the center of it. Tapping a few buttons and crossing your fingers that you didn’t break it. The air fills with the rich scent of coffee.

As you wait you glance at the cute cat clock on the wall thinking about what you’ll have for dinner soon. As the coffee continues you look around their cabinets and fridge noticing how it’s only junk/fast food minus the few rarities.

The coffee dings. Stopping your search for nutritional value foods. When you took the cup you stopped. The coffee was decorated with a chocolate wafer, a dollop of vanilla cream that spread out into a beautiful design similar to a leaf, and some speckles of caramel.

This was not your typical desperate espresso that the break room had…no…this was art—something you could shed a tear at.

It made you feel guilty taking a sip and ruining the artwork. It was packed with sugar but on everything that you owned—it was the best goddamn drink you’ve ever had. It literally made you moan a “oh shit—“

You slumped your shoulders letting the warm drink fill you, trying to ignore the positive energy that was radiating from the machine. Kopi was happy you enjoyed it. You were too preoccupied with the coffee you nearly trip on your way back to the office.

You look down. Your foot was on the arm of a clothes hanger. Stepping back you look up, eyes wide in confusion. There were multiple hangers hooked onto a vent, cold air flushing out.

You do something you’re not entirely why you considered it: You pick up the hang you accidentally stepped on, dusting it off annnddd…hooking it with the rest of them.

You stare at the hangers feeling stupid.

You question how the hangers got there but that’ll give you a headache. The only thing your dumb human brain comes up with is that there could be a ghost.

And honestly you’d take the ghost over sentient objects.

So, you’ll suck it up and deal with dancing around the fact your friend is in kahoots with their memorabilia and or ghost.

You had finished making dinner with the minimal ingredients that were in the kitchen and ate in peaceful silence before cleaning up.

You are hand washing them because the dishwasher gave you the creeps after you stared at it for a long period of time. You’re at the sink rinsing the plate, on with healed cracks and seams on it like it’s been meticulously fixed with delicate hands.

You wonder if Homie did this.

You smile at the thought. Daisuke smiles at you, appreciating your gentle touch to his dishes.

As you dry the plate and silverware finishing up cleaning. You turn, and there on the center of the table were the glasses…didn’t you put them on the coffee table?

Your brain couldn’t comprehend it—so much so you again choose to ignore it. Slowly walking away while maintaining eye contact with the glasses.

This is going to be a long month.

[wrotebymii]

WROTEBYMII’s MASTERLIST | Braindump hell.

As said in READ ME I am no responsible for the media you consume, but understand that my blog is 18+ I have posts that aren’t suitable for younger ages.

Please, self preservation is more important than any lame blog.

This will update with works of fandoms I’m in along with updates of what im currently working on and future ideas!

KEY= fluff ◡̈ | angst 𖦹 | smut ღ | head-canons ⌗ | TBW ✎ | series 𝄞

ᯓ DATE EVERYTHING

╰➤ MAYBE ITS ME… | Date Everything x gn!reader 𖦹 𝄞

Part One | Two | Three | Four

You aren’t sure why but almost every dateable hates you and you’re starting to wonder if you’re the problem.

╰➤ OBJECT WHISPERER | Date Everything x gn!reader ◡̈ ⌗

Before you got your dateaviator you unknowingly had made relationships with the appliances and knickknacks around you home.

╰➤EVERYTHING HAS A PLACE | Date Everything x gn!reader ⌗ ◡̈

How life is with the objects and their autistic homeowner.

╰➤ DISH IT OUUUT | Curt ‘n Rod x gn!reader ◡̈

Curt and Rod tease you, so you dish out—not just shade—but playful revenge.

╰➤ WARNING SHOCK | Volt x Eddie x gn!Reader ღ ✎

Eddie and Volt find out you have a voice kink.

╰➤ HOUSE FIEND | Date Everything x gn!reader ◡̈ 𝄞

Part One

You are the friend of the Homeowner, they need you to house sit for a month. During the time weird things happen that you hope to ignore.

ᯓ ARCANE

╰➤ TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Silco x Fem!reader (HIATUS) ◡̈ 𝄞𖦹

SERIES MASTERLIST

Young, dumb, and mostly feral is how some would describe the new underground rebellion group within the shadows of the undercity. You were indifferent to the revolt— in favor of worrying about your own survival, but you morals have seen to shift when you rescue someone in fending off an Enforcer. Morals in support of the birth of Zaun.

ᯓ K-POP DEMON HUNTERS

╰➤

[wrotebymii]

DISH IT OUUT | Curt n’ Rod x gn!reader

Summary: Curt and Rod tease you, so you dish out—not just shade—but playful revenge.

Warning: Fluff, banter. I wrote this for the ones who need help with getting them to like you. They’re the best I love them. Not edited.

MASTERLIST | READ ME

Curt and Rod weren’t the first objects you went to, however, they’re already your favorite.

They have a similar vibe like you and Sam. Throwing shade but within boundaries—It’s an art form really. One that the three of you can appreciate.

They gave you rules that were easy to follow, but you overthink sometimes. You worry that something you say will be taken poorly or won’t land like how you thought it would. You wouldn’t say you're shy, socially awkward? Sure—but you can’t help but want to be validated by the two very confident friends. The stickers of ‘oooo shade’ or ‘got ‘em!’ fill you with pride.

They’ve been teaching you well considering you’ve been covered with said stickers—it’s a bit of a hassle repositioning them on your body and face that the two dark skinned men chuckle at you.

“Yo, you’re racking up more stickers than a kindergartener’s worksheet!” Rod cackled, twirling his tassel in a leisurely manner as Curt nodded along adding on to his friend's comment.

“Yeah, maybe next we’ll give you some ‘job well done’ and ‘you did amazing’ or even those Lisa Frank ones—“ Curt has his hand up, his drip—the flowy blue sleeves ruffle as he does so. The palm of his hand is by his lips as if trying to whisper this diss to Rod, but he talks that above a whisper so you hear it. They both give you a smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, used to their teasing remarks.

“Least my collection isn’t as big as both your egos…” You don’t think before you say it, you tense and slowly look up at them. They’re looking at you shocked, they look at each other as two very suspicious grins spread on their faces.

“Oooo-they got us, That’s a hit!—“ Curt woes dramatically, a hand landing on his forehead like he’s fainting.

“—yeah! YE-OUCH!” Both Curt and Rod keep their poses still, obviously trying to keep straight faces. Rod clutches his chest with one hand, slyly digs into his pocket with the other. They relish the confused looks you give between them. 

“It hit riiiight…” Rod starts, inching closer to you, as he pressed another sticker on the center of your chest, being pressed against other stickers that were already there. “...there”

You slowly look down to your chest, even though the lettering is upside down you can make out the words, but you still gently take the thing off with your thumb and turn it.

‘Ego blast!!’ With their faces on it.

“Daamn—don’t you think they look good with our faces on ‘em?” Rod nudged his brother-friend in his side, making Curt nod.

“Oh! yeah, they do—it makes their fit better in my opinion.” They continue throwing out shade and back hand compliments. Your face heats up as they take turns teasing you. You glance down at the sticker still on your thumb and look back up.

Hmm, they’re…throwing shade…doesn’t this count for—?

The ‘o’ on your face morphs into a rambunctious expression, eyes squint and a toothless grin spreading across.

You think their shade deserves…a sticker.

Curt and Rod hold onto each other, amping up when a soft press on Curt’s bicep. They pause, mouths agape when you give Curt a ‘ooo…shade’ sticker with their faces on it.

They watch you hum in thought, as you look at the cute design, and just like that they see a light bulb above your head.

“That was worth…what? Fifty more?” As they’re about to protest you quickly jump at Curt, ignoring the gold rings digging into your arms as you hug him. Transfering the stamps onto him.

“Aye! Aye—oh god it’s on the silk!” You can tell by his voice that he’s not actually mad. You pull away, Curt’s arms are spread out looking at every inch of himself and the decals. Rod backs away while cackling at Curt’s misfortune.

“Look at you! Ha! They got you~” Rod points. His friend gives him an unamused look.

“Nah, dude! This ain’t funny—it’s in places I can’t even reach how-“ He’s cut off by Rod's laugh.

“FahahaHA!”

Curt looks at you, no malice but heated and tactical revenge, he joins your side. He puts a hand on his hip, looking smug—as he does with Rod his hand up like he’s gonna gossip with you.

“Hey, ain't he get the same score as me?” He hums in pretend thought.

“Huh?” Rod stops his laughter, immediately. Peering up at the both of you then holding up his hands like he’s trying to tame a fire.

“You know what? He did get the same score!” You chirp.

“No…nuh-uh-nuh UH! Ya can’t gang up on me like this!” He backs up, but it’s too late. Both of you lunge at him, tackling him to the ground.

“Oh-dang man! Got me tripping onto Florence!” He grumbles, mentally apologizing to the woman. He notices that the stamps have been divided between the three of you now.

“There! A true act of narcissism—“ You say, they both roll their eyes, trying to peel the stickers off themselves. Hissing as the adhesive clings to their clothes. At the end of it you can only hope that you embarrassed the two in front of Wyndolyn and those blinds across the street.

As the bear hug ends you sneakily place a new sticker on each other's cheeks. This time it has your face on it with the words ‘Master Class Shade’.

[wrotebymii]

AUTHORS NOTE | Feat. My brain

It’ll be a few before I continue ‘Maybe it’s me…’ story because I have other ideas/drafts I want to complete first! Here’s some of what will be published next when finished.

WARNING SHOCK | Eddie x Volt x gn!reader (Smut)

SHROUD IN DARK | Skips x gn!reader (Headcanons)

DISH IT OUUUT | Curt n’ Rod x gn!reader (Fluff)

Fair warning that these could get scrapped for a different idea but in the mean time these are what I’ll be working on!

[wrotebymii]

MAYBE ITS ME? … | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: After leaving your house because you can’t handle being hated in your very own home, Sam talks with you while your house becomes quiet…

Warning: minimal angst, honestly it’s a little fluffy with you and Sam. The objects are miserable now. There will be a part three and four!!

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | READ ME

Sam has been the most understanding friend what felt like your only friend she tries her hardest to bring you out of your slump and rationalize while simultaneously making fun of you as to why your relationships within your home have a burning hate for you.

She’s pointing fun yet logical, allowing you to rant about what you did and where you possibly went wrong with each. She sat across from you, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees in full concentration. You were sat back practically melting into the furniture that didn’t despise you, moving a hand around to exaggerate your speech with the other stuffing your face with food like you haven’t eaten in weeks. Lowkey, you haven’t.

“When I talked to Hoove, being nice and supportive while telling him not to work too hard—I thought I was being sweet ya’know—“ You stuff your face and swallow.

“—but apparently NOT?? He got angry with me, when I tried backtracking and apologize which crazy by the way he said he HATED ME?!” You shout, you can feel your face heat in anger at the thought before tears well up.

“Or how I tried to speak with Daisuke—“

“Who’s that one?”

“Oh my tableware, he’s like tall about yay-high with black hair a portion of it in a bun with like dishware themed robes…I heard from others in rhe kitchen that he’s into taking things seriously” You explain with a wave of the hand.

“I actually…heh I thought that we’d get along, he likes taking care of the dishes and even tries to fix them if they crack due to me but that’s not the point I too like fixing things, I want to fix things…but I guess unlike him or fake it till you make it like Tony…I just make it worse…”

“I…I just wanted to be friends or the I don’t know? Date? The whole reason of the damn glasses.” You mutter, you push the snacks away and use a napkin to clean yourself.

Dating them, any of them wasn’t the main goal. Sure it’s interesting but realizing the things around your home have their own lives in the house was so cool!

Being a hermit, a homebody it felt like a this was a way to help you as well, to get better with being social and maybe let you learn that the outside wasn’t so scary and not everything was out to get you.

But, you messed it up—perhaps you tried too hard, pushed too much, didn’t push enough, didn’t flirt when needed to, too flirty for some, or didn’t have enough specs for the correct dialogue and it came out lame. Now, you’re both miserable in the house and out of it.

Sam was trying, really was. As you spoke she’d occasionally glance around her apartment as if the ranting was making her paranoid about her house. Sighing she runs her hand down her face. She should’ve said something about the weird black stuff in that bathroom, maybe it was the fumes getting to you, but she shook her head.

“What else happened?…”

“The breaking point?”

“Yeah, what made you take off the glasses?”She asks, you groan, slumping back and wiping away a few stray tears as you remembered.

“I was going to the Breaker Box Club, ‘cause Eddie and Volt were still nice-ish from our previous conversations—I hadn’t talked to them in a bit by then cause I was trying to salvage whatever was going on between Harper the hamper and Dirk dirty clothes. I wanted to catch up and help Eddie with some of his work like last time.” You shift in your seat uncomfortably.

“When I entered it was packed, I was happy for them that their business was getting bigger but I knew it was gonna be a lot to take on so I went to find one of them to offer help…”

“…you try and help a lot…”

“I do, it’s…the only thing I can give to them—“ you stop yourself, continuing the story of the night prior.

“But, I knew I wasn’t welcomed. Everyone avoided me, whispering around like I was back in school. Again, Volt saw me. I remember waving at him as he walked over way too quickly. We talked as he pushed me along the way I came from, when I noticed I was confused and…worried I lost another person again…” You take in a deep breath.

“I did…the gossip around the club didn’t go unnoticed by the owners he wanted to get rid of me so it didn’t disturb the customers. I tried talking to him saying that I wasn’t a bad…person…” You don’t sound convinced yourself by that statement.

“He wasn’t having it, his…skin almost turned this light blue? His hand gripped my arm to drag my away from the prying eyes, it hurt…not to make him anymore mad I let him, throw me out…” Voice trailing off, Sam looks stunned, like this was the most juiciest soap opera ever.

“You got kicked out of your own break box—“

“YES, I GOT KICK OUT” you yelled but not at Sam, yelling at the absurd thought of being thrown out of your own break box.

“Crazy…” She elongates the ‘zy’ in the word, unsure how to handle the rest of this.

“Do you think there’s a way to start over with them? All of them I mean?”

The sun was setting, making the silence seem light and comforting. You’re tired, and don’t know where to tread next, so many ideas run in your mind that you—wait…

There might be a very dubious way to get your life back to normal. The thought felt terrible, too personal and guilty, but you don’t seem to have any other option. At least not right now. So, you’ll pin the idea with Keith in the back of your mind. And let it fester or wilt as you and Sam brainstorm together.

Back at the house.

The ones that cheered for your leave are quiet, basking in the dullness of the house. Sure they can talk to one another but…that’s uneventful. The house is missing apart of itself the part of you. The human part. The fragile, unpredictable, unproductive, and lonely ways of you has gone missed.

But everyone refuses to say it out loud. They’re all still bitter and angry with how you treated them—wait…why exactly are they all mad? Some can’t remember but feel justified, although, looking back they just remember you trying. No.

No. You hurt them. They think…

…

…

Okay—well they aren’t sure…not anymore.

The lights are off because there’s no need to see, the sinks and baths don’t run because there’s no one to draw it for, the wall creaks and settles sadly, coffee pot remains unused along with the beauty products, television, books, sofa, stove—all of it. All of them are…completely bored?

Maybe, making your life inconvenienced and almost down right harassed in your day to day life after you stopped interacting with them wasn’t the right way to express their anger. A day turned to four then a week then two weeks.

Dorian can feel the worry in every room about when you’ll return, he huffs. Bedroom Dorian stands still, looking up at the ceiling then down to the floor, watching Florence quickly scramble around her time book with all the new complaints and meetings for Celia.

He reluctantly…steps forward. Away from his position to stand right in front of the poor woman. He rather be doing his job, the thing he thinks so highly of. However, he too is miserable more miserable than laundry room closet Dorian because what is his purpose now that the one who he open and closes for…is gone?

But he’s convinced himself that speaking with Celia will help.

Or so he hopes.

Taglist:

@hhhhthththrd

@diablosinners

@4rt3m1y

@stargazer0x0

@apearlyheart

@airyravenmaid

@writing-munchies

@suck-me-sideways-blog

@trixie541

@redjeanjacket

@xxxshadowl0rd420xxx

@animeweeb99

[wrotebymii]

EVERYTHING HAS A PLACE | Date Everything x Autistic!gn!reader

Summary: How life is with the objects and their autistic homeowner.

Warnings: Fluffy, minimal angst, reader doesn’t know their household necessities are sentient at first, I’m autistic but low-functioning so a lot of what I wrote is how I go about my day/how I act. Not edited. Reader is also slightly demi-romantic coded.

Lost the plot a few paragraphs in I’m sorry I’m sleep deprived.

MASTERLIST | READ ME

Timothy, Penelope, and You are like three peas in a pod. Using each keeps you relatively relaxed for the upcoming day or eventual break in your neatly put together schedule—which gets increasingly difficult to think about when said break comes.

Sorry, Sam, but your hang session is place obscurely in our data monthly pin board since it’s pushing too close to workout and the everything shower. —Signed Penelope

They all try to accommodate your needs; Kopi making the coffee the exact same every time, Freddy keeping the fridge nice and cool so your comfort foods don’t spoil just yet, Teddy being found under your bed when you’re having a difficult time regulating, even Lux and Barry collaborating reluctantly together to find the perfect hand lotion that doesn’t give you sensory headaches.

Everyone thinks you’re charming, not in an infantilizing way. Every single person adores you but with respect and understanding.

Most of them love that you have a routine you stick by, it’s easy to remember and gives them chill periods in between. Its a nice break because they too can get tired, so when there’s a detour in the schedule that wasn’t place advanced. They worry.

Koa and Mateo would immediately be there with you, letting you curl in the comfort of your bedding and focus on yourself. While Telly puts on a rerun of your favorite show.

But this time it’s different. An immediate change in your entire routine when you got the Dateviators. Forcing yourself to ignore the urge to clean the broken glass of your door window because a drone had so rudely forced the box in. You picked them up, they were cute a little tacky but cute nevertheless. Internally, you were still freaked out that an unknown person knew your address and sent you a pair of sungla— holy shit.

You put them on and you’re not sure how it happened but there was a very beautiful smiling pinked haired stranger standing a few feet away from you. She was practically buzzing in excitement as she explained what was happening. Causing you to…

Quickly take the glasses off and pace.

You couldn’t believe it, almost didn’t want to believe it. Within the comforts of your own home every object, appliance, knicknacks, and the literal embodiment of concepts are all sentient. It made you feel all types of ways wrong that you quickly took laps around the house before collapsing on the floor of your living room.

…this could be a good thing? You mean…it could help with your social skill and facial recognition. Hell, maybe you’ll get a friend out of this?

Slowly you put them back on, your world being brightly lit up by rose tinted specs. It hurts your eyes. Though, Skylar shows up again, looking down at you with a strained smile and wave. Easying you up without touching you to your feet and continuing what she was saying. Before another bomb shell hit you.

Dateviators…dateables

The whole point of these glasses was to date multiple of your household items which freaked you out more. However, you were truly thankful that you met Dorian first. His announcement that friendship was also an option made it less daunting on you.

Thus began the 102 way to get everything to be friends with you!

Sure, the first few days was stressful and near exhausting but long talks with Timothy and Pen helped greatly. They helped with creating an entirely new schedule color coded as well that allowed time for your humanly needs and getting to know everyone.

Jerry and You got along great, earning his friendship fast when you told him to up-cycle.

Lux was easy to hate, but with your inability to know when you’re being insulted you became their unlikely friend they hurt your eyes.

Teddy was amazing, you were little embarrassed that he knows deeply about your breakdowns but the silly advice and stories made it go away.

Barry is probably your best friend, you help him with his memory by saying he can use things he’s interested in to aid him in keeping track of things.

Chance is your second bestie, nearly tackling him in feral hyper fixation so you could yap his ear off about the game you both like. He’s the most likely to fall for you. Besides Wallace.

However, the best place is Break Box Club, but only when it’s after hours. You can only sit through terrible act before you want to put cotton in your ears. The club is soothing at closing, lights dimmer Volt and Eddie do that just for you and you get to drink a lot of mocktails Eddie teases you.

You do your share, of course. Not wanting to free load off the two. You have knowledge on the breaker box because you were frantically cleaning one day and found the manual which you spent the next hour reading through and forgot the cleaning which you regretted later.

Currently, you’re seated at the bar working on a project you and Jerry are doing while chatting to Eddie about a new dateable, questioning the person initial reaction to you. Volt was to your right.

“They were flirting…” He said, cleaning a glass with a shake of his head. The corner of his lips turning up. You give him a once over and hum in thought.

“Nah” You say flatly, not believing it.

“The hell you mean nah?” He raised an amused brow. You shrug and sit up straight, gathering your words.

“They seemed…rude? And pushy” You concluded.

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t…” Eddie pauses and places the glass down, rubbing between his eyes like he has a headache.

“Sometimes…insults can be meant in different ways, live wire.” Volt says, chuckling. They aren’t teasing you for your like of awareness but amused by the conversation overall.

“But, that’s not how it’s like in Betty’s books” You say, maintaining strict eye contact with Eddies hands as the wipe down the counter. Enjoying the rhythmic nature of it.

“How was it shown in these books?” Volt asks with more interest.

“Flashy, and oddly poetic. Like you’d sing a ballad if you saw your lover in front of you” You say remembering the way Betty gasp and sigh wishfully when she read it out loud. You thought it was pretty, and by definition romantic, but not something you think you’d like.

“Ah of course, lovey-dovey shit…” Eddie mumbles, he leans on the bar his hands on the counter supporting his weight. Volt hums.

“Betty is the overtly romantic type.” Volt looks at you, multitasking on the project and the conversation.

“-what about you?”

“Huh?”

“What is your romance like, your love language?”

“You don’t have to answer, tap your fingers twice if you want me to stop him” Eddie teases, his voice drowning out with Volts as they banter back and forth.

What is your romance like? Love language? You aren’t sure, but you know you like foundation a connection to someone. Similarities but not too many.

“I think I like just being near someone…we don’t have uh-don’t have to speak or do anything but just be there in each other presence, I enjoy that. Looking up and seeing that they’re there and I get to be there with them…” The room is silence, it’s not awkward but settle.

Then it’s broken.

“I enjoy the firey and beautiful passi-“

“You ruined it” Eddie huffs.

“Oh-ho I did not, I’m merely adding onto-“ Volt defends himself, electricity tingling over his arms—the zapping noise of it pleases you.

You giggle as they continue, adding the last bit to the Jerry project. Watching as Eddie and Volt blabber on as Eddie begins to walk away from the conversation to go on and do workaholic things.

You might not fully understand where you are in romantic relationships but you’ll take anything if it meant being in the presence of any object within this house. If they’re flirty, hateful, passive, aloof.

You don’t mind, being around them is enough for you.

[wrotebymii]

MAYBE ITS ME?… | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: You aren’t sure why but almost every dateable hates you and you’re starting to wonder if you’re the problem.

Warning: I’m a little sad due to my seasonal depression so you get this! Angst, social anxiety, socially awkward, very self deprecating Doug is working over time. Not edited.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME

It’s driving you and all the objects in your home up the wall. You aren’t sure why but almost everyone hates you.

Everyone from Lux, and Rebel to Rainey, Betty, Dunk, Hoove, Kopi, Keyes, hell even Celia can’t look you in the eye due to the overwhelming complaints she’s been getting!

The nail in the coffin was getting thrown out of the Breaker Box club, you still can feel the shock in your arm when Volt grabbed you out the door. You were shaking and starring wide eyed at the breaker closet that Doug surely would’ve appeared if Reggie didn’t.

You couldn’t hear him, lost in your own thoughts when you cut off his passive aggressive pity party for you by…taking the dateviators off.

It still had charge left but you felt so tired. You don’t know what you were doing wrong, maybe you came off too strong or said something that was hurtful despite you just trying to fit in. Similar to what Tony said in his workshops.

Changed to fit what you thought they’d want in love or even friendship. Though, it doesn’t matter now cause almost all of your household objects hate your guts.

You curled in your spot, head tucked in your knees with your eyes peering over to stare at the glasses you held by the frame with your pointer and thumb tipping it up and down.

Maybe the hacker guy that gave you these would take them back, or maybe you can return them to David without getting accused and arrested by the government?

You just know one thing…

You don’t want to put them back on.

You tried to got back to your mundane life before realizing that everything around you is alive. But it started to make you paranoid and self conscious. Like you couldn’t live in your comfort space anymore.

You swore to Sam that the water was hot one second then cold then hot again, the coffee didn’t taste as good, you tripping on air, zapping yourself when you plugged a charger in, the food going spoiled even though you got it a day ago, the piano playing loud keys randomly, your white clothes getting stained right out of the wash, and now your comfort blanket wasn’t feeling so comforting.

You’ve had it.

One night you were laidback on the now springy uncomfortable bed, venting to Sam about how you need to get out of the house—she offered you her place for the time being. Understanding about your weird struggling relationships.

However. Out of all the people you’ve made hate you, one still remained the same throughout it all and never inconvenienced you.

Dorian. His friendship status didn’t waver at any moment of your—very fast—conversations. He found you rather interesting…respectable. When you met the firt time with Skylar he knew you’d try to get along with everyone, knew how you’d change yourself even to get everyone to like you. You were kind, thoughtful, and a little pathetic but in a charming way.

Currently, he thinks he needs to initiate the conversation this time.

You were shuffling through Dirk clothes when you heard Sam’s car honk outside. Quickly you stuff your luggage with things you knew weren’t sentient and rushed downstairs and opened the door.

Or well…tried too. Each time you turn the top lock then the bottom it shuts again. With a frustrate groan you knock your head on the front of the door, a hand still on the knob.

“Open, Dorian…” You whisper, you mind reeling in the fact that you might’ve made even Dorian upset with you. You try to open it. You curse loudly when he it doesn’t budge

You turn on your heel, leaving the luggage there as you head to your office, opening the junk drawer Jerry and searching for those fucking glasses. It was in the far back with a little dust on them. You put them on, walking pass Skylar trying to warily greet you and straight to Dorian at the front door.

He’s in his typical pose. Arms folded and chest pushed up with a ‘taking no shits’ expression. It reminds you of a conversation you had with him where you said he’d make a great bodyguard or bouncer if he were human. He had cracked a tiny smile and said that just being a door for this house was enough.

“Dorian-“

“Don’ say nothing. Let me speak.” He says, you tsk and roll you eyes but don’t say anything else.

“I don’ think you running away from your home is a good idea fro-“ You wave a hand stopping him.

“They all hate me”

“Not all-“

“Then they likely will” You voice is stern, but there’s a sadness laced in the words. He doesn’t respond to that letting you rant.

“I’m over feeling like trash in my own damn house. I need to leave, so open!” You yell, you don’t care if you’re being watched by Sam from outside or anyone from the living room.

“It’s dangerous out ther-“

“It’s better than here.” There’s a long pause.

“You’know…” Dorian starts as you’re about to take off the glasses, you glance at him. “If it means an’thing—I think we’re still friends.”

The confession makes you want to sob but you grit your teeth, look ahead at Sam’s vehicle.

“Respectfully, Dorian…I wish I never got these glasses…”

Your words stung but he doesn’t show it. You know being angry with him will likely end the same as it did with everyone else, but he remains still for a moment longer then steps aside. Letting you leave.

You toss the dateviator somewhere and walk away. Dorian closes, staring blankly at the glasses that landed in the middle of the walkway. He ignores the whispering in every room—some confusion, some even cheering

He huffs bitterly, arms still crossed and up against his chest. Dorian is ever in balance and composed, he takes his job serious and to not let any detractions get to him. However, this situation is getting out of hand even for him. He’ll have to get an appointment with Mayor Celia layer, but for now he regains his position and awaits your arrival.

How ever long that would be.

[wrotebymii]

OBJECT WHISPERER | Date Everything x gn!Reader

Summary: Before you got your dateaviator you unknowingly had made relationships with the appliances and knickknacks around you home.

Warning: Fluff, Spoilers for certain characters? This wasn’t edited, came straight from my head to my notes app.

MASTERLIST | READ ME

Before you got your dateviator and realized that you could date literally anything within your house. You unknowingly had built relationships with your appliances and knickknacks around your home. Solely because you’re a lonely person and tend to talk to yourself and random things around you.

Some of the things you used to do is apologize. Mainly to Dorian or Wallace every time you accidentally shoulder-check them because your depth perception is tarnished by being with Mac and Phonenicia all day for ‘work’ related things (you’re reading fanfics).

Whispering an ‘ow’ rubbing your shoulder and absentmindedly apologizing then going about your day. Wallace would sigh ‘wall…’ dreamily while Dorian would grunt but respect you a bit more as he watches you do the same thing and stub your toe on Abel, letting out curses and another wheeze of ‘sorry…’ before stumbling away.

Sometimes you and an object get into a scuffle and both of you become moody. Like you pleading with Connie to work, not so seriously threatening Dante when you burn yourself, yelling at yourself and Mac because a document didn’t save, or muttering curses as you try and find a pair of socks in Harper/Dirk.

But every relationship has their moments, but you try and everyone else does too. You do a lot like how you help fix them, albeit haphazardly, but the thought is there! You’d replace Lux’s light bulbs with one that has them shine brighter than ever. Fixed Phoenicia when you fell and cracked her screen which was expensive. Replace fuses for Eddie and Volt. You even helped the Hanks when they did they’re extreme sports (sponsored by Red Bowls) and Hank two got hurt!

You noticed that one of the hangers was cracked and went to Jerry and got a dog themed washi tape, you wrapped it around the crack nicely like he was good as new—the Hanks thought the tape looked rad and they all signed the cast with various ‘Hank was here’.

But the moment where (mostly) everyone collectively liked you was when you defended them. Your mother came over. It was a decent visit—but then your mom started walking around criticizing every object that brought you joy, you didn’t back down from justifying their existence and why you kept them around. It made them all feel loved.

Everyone has some sense of appreciation, respect, or even longing for you. Most of them, of course, thought you were slightly insane or just extremely lonely and in need of some sort of connection due to you talking to them when you're bored but honestly? They wouldn’t have it any other way.