you can still win, just gotta be faster!
when dating everything goes from an enchanting experience to a neverending nerve-wracking nightmare, sometimes you have to slip into an old – or rather young – habit.
pairing(s): date everything (misc. characters/everyone) x agere!gn!reader; bedroom characters/cg!betty heavy but not centered
warning(s): paragraph/context heavy, some fighting, hurt/comfort
request | wc: 3.9k | inspired by my own agere experiences, if you catch the spider-man reference lmk 🫶
everyone has something they do behind closed doors. not everything needs to be shared with the world and not everything will be. it's sleeping for some, more.. mature activities for others, and some innocent nerding out at near midnight for all at least once in their lives. whether it's embarrassing or simply personal differs from person to person.
for you, it was just.. different. it was personal, yes, but it was coping.
coping with general life and the past; the present and even the future. the passage of time and the fact that this was the only way to ever really go back – emotionally, anyway. it'd creep up on you when you were at your worst, your adult mind unable to stay put together as you felt your world crumble around you, and your mind would crash, and suddenly, banana slices and chocolate chips sounded like the greatest treat of all time.
ever since moving out, you could regress more – allowing your mind to slip into it instead of waiting for it to forcibly rescue you from the flaming rubble of your adult life and tie you down to your bed with your favorite cartoon and a capri sun. you wouldn't have to worry about your parents coming into your room and catching you coloring away in your book or soothing yourself on biting your fingers. free in your own home, you could sit in the middle of your couch, criss cross applesauce with nothing to worry about except how the animated animals across your screen were going to solve this episode's friendship emergency.
though, the day your life went from quiet and upsettingly unemployed to eventful (and still unemployed), things started to get a little.. hectic.
day one, you met skylar specs – the cutest pair of aviators that arrived on your doorstep, a golden retriever cutie in a pretty pink package, that introduced herself as your dateviators. you also met her friends, dorian and phoenicia – your doors and your own cellphone –, and already, meeting the personified versions of the objects around your house was already a little much. to make it worse, over time, you realized how much they had known about you this whole time. like.. since you've moved in.
everytime you met a new person.. object?.. or dateable, as skylar called them, you tried to hide the slight embarrassment that murmured in the back of your mind.
despite that, the dateable were just lovely – some more than others. there was just.. something that bothered you about them practically being awake and conscious around your house at all times.
you felt yourself change over time as the days merged together. between meeting new dateables everyday and working to get to know them and the knowledge that your household items were more or less watching you constantly, the realization of how exhausting it could all get dawned on you over time.
for days without end, in your own house, your safe space, you end up masking – hiding parts of yourself to socially appeal to the beings around you. you start adapting to those around you: becoming more flirtatious with some, being sassy with others, somehow being meaner and nicer within the same hour to please your breaker box or your bathroom. some may say it's something everyone does to get by, but it's different. it's exhausting when there's no end to the way you micromanage yourself.
day whatever you're on at this point, you're introduced with a new task, story, and errand. the ghost in your attic is asking for her necklace that's been with the 80's time capsule boy you found in your crawlspace and your piano is asking – or more like demanding – for these very specific environmental factors that require you to run from your vaccum to your hvac system to your lights to your tv to your record player to make sure everything is just right. your dateviators run out before you can truly finish everything and at the end of each day, you crash on your bed with a very whiny apology slipping out of your lips to betty.
she looks at you with sweet eyes and a caring aura as she pets your hair, letting you snuggle into her pillows. the way she pets you sends a chill down your spine. it lulls you into her lap and, for a second, you feel your fingers crawl towards your lips.. but you stop them – just in time before she notices.
you cannot let yourself slip, you tell yourself. not with everyone around. not when everyone can see.
it's another stressor – debating when or even if you'll tell your housemates. you're aware they've seen you do it before. if not your chatty bar downstairs, then definitely your caregiver worthy bed and blankets. but that was before.
before you knew they could see, and form opinions, and talk. before you knew you could be judged.
and this was now – where you carefully choose what to say to others, depending on their personalities, like you were choosing dialogue options in a dating game 24/7.
and your lovers and friends have started to take notice.
when it comes to another day and another task, you're stopped on your way to your home gym. your hands are full of party supplies you're delivering with the holly jolly soul of your busy abode, but that doesn't seem to dawn on the feminine pair in front of you. a pair of sharp eyes draw you in as much as the gentle face below her, colored with carefully concealed concern.
"darling, can we borrow you for a minute?" ceilia calls you over and you notice that – not only is florence with her – but so is every being from your bedroom. including lux and tina. at first, you think you're hallucinating them, but when florence tells them to put their phones away, you're convinced you're not.
"oh gosh, did something happen? what are you all doing here?"
"we wanted to talk to you about somethin'. do you have a second?" betty's sultry voice is music to your ears, but the weight of the box in your arms interrupts her concerto.
"yeah! just let me hand these off to holly and–" you start to head into your home gym, but dorian's heavy build blocks your way. you huff, the smile on your lips growing strained. "excuse me, dorian."
"i don't think so." those crossed arms of his give off serious energy – even more serious than usual. abel comes up beside you to coax the box out of your hands, but you step back defensively, nearly protecting it.
if you don't, something might slip out, after all.
"azizam, you look exhausted. why don't you let abel help you?"
don't let it slip. you pull the box towards you.
"i've got it." you say it in the beat of a breath, a bit faster than you expected to. you hope they don't notice. they do. "i don't appreciate being boxed in like this."
"you're a busy bee, it's hard to slow you down." florence comes up to you, along with amir, and your body reacts the way a deer's would underneath the eyes of a vulture's – it freezes. there's an open circle around you. no one is too far, but you feel they are standing too close. there's nothing you could have done to be treated like a rabbit that escaped its cage, yet you shake like one regardless. "we're not meaning to corner you, dear, we just think you're in need of.. well.."
"an intervention, to put it bluntly." the mayor rejoins the front lines. "you've been running around quite a lot, haven't you? you're almost turning into a second holly."
"not that we don't love holly or her help! or your help!"
"of course. we just believe that you're handling a bit more than you should." the beings around the mayor nod carefully, a circle of agreement to a question, one unasked and unpromted. you huff, stiffly moving around everyone to the stairs, though it isn't easy. florence follows you like a fawn and you have to nudge amir's shoulder to move by him.
"i am fine, everyone."
"yeah, so was holly."
"curt, rod." you've never heard a sharp tone from florence before. it almost startles you. "we're not saying you're not fine, honey, we're just wondering when the last time you sat down for a cup of tea was, so to speak."
"just yesterday! when i was telling ceilia about the tipsy tumbler!"
"oh, not literally! when was the last time you took a break?"
"it doesn't matter, florence!" you whine like a teenager, growing tired of the conversation. even your tone grows tense, the way eddie's does when asked too many questions. "can i get back to work? i have shit to do."
"if you can talk to us, we can let you finish your task." ceilia steps forward and your grip grows impossibly tighter on the sides of the delivery box, pulling enough to nearly break through the cardboard. "we would only like for you to relax!"
"what is it to any of you what my schedule is like!?"
"well, i am the mayor–"
"–and i'm the homeowner! so, please, do not tell me to relax!" it comes out harsher than expected. you're surprised at the volume of your own voice. it startles you as much as it does everyone else. ceilia freezes, florence and betty cover their mouths, even tina and lux flinch in their spots. you haven't heard someone raise their voice in this house since you got harper and dirk sorted out. when it rips out your throat, it feels.. far away, as if it came from someone else. the next voice that comes out of you is much softer as you scramble for the right words. "i'm sorry, ceilia; i'm sorry. i shouldn't shout. i.. i'm.."
it's quiet. the top of the stairs is too quiet as eyes peer into you; watching. staring. judging. the bottom of the stairs feels like it stretches out farther and farther away, as if you're standing on the tallest mountain, and it makes you feel smaller than ever. it's the same feeling you had when playing as a child, standing proudly atop of the stairs as if you had conquered mount everest itself. though, this wasn't a joyful pride. this was.. fear. the fear that you felt when you were on top of the fireman's pole at the playground or when your parent thought you were brave enough to go down the mall's escalator without them carrying you.
except this time, there were no arms to lift you up and carry you down.
you let the box slip out of your arms. it tips on the floor, handmade letters and sparkly stickers spreading across the stairs, tumbling down the way a snowball would. you catch a glimpse of stella trying to catch it with abel's help through your tears as you slide down the wall to sit. a few figures squat down beside you and the gentle touches of their hands are both drowning and rescuing. you try to look around, but all you catch are heads peeking out of rooms to catch sight of their human breaking down on the floor. it's overwhelming. there are voices coming from the bottom of the stairs – worried ones from the office and the kitchen – and there are some calling out from the rest of the hallway behind dorian, who's trying his hardest to keep them from you to give you space.
you barely process it, but betty calls the hanks from your closest to lift you up in their arms, carrying you back into your bedroom. they set you down gently on the bed, but the ladies send them away before their panicking makes you cry any harder. she climbs in behind you, resting your head on her laps, like she always does. she pets your head, hushing you gently as you sob.
"you're okay, baby. betty's got you." she soothes.
she notices how you've curled up in her lap, how you almost have teddy in a death grip in your hands. she notices the way you press your head into her stomach, almost trying to hide underneath her.
and she notices.. you have your fingers in your mouth.
she notices, but she doesn't bring it to attention.
and in the heat of the moment, you cry yourself to sleep in her lap.
you're not sure what time it is when you wake up.
the sun is up, but you're not sure if it's friday's sun or saturday's sun. your mind is blurry with the memories of earlier. last you remember was moving around the house with letters from holly, next you were.. where you are now. in bed, snug as a bug in a rug with your teddy tight in your arms and your fingers in your mouth.
when you look around, you lock eyes with a cat boy sitting criss crossed on your dresser, nearly staring into the soul of the watch on his wrist. when you sit up, he jumps slightly, turning his attention to you as you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes.
"about time you stirred awake! don't you know you're off your sleeping schedule?" you register the funny way he pronounces that big word – schedule. schhhhedule. – before he springs off of your dresser and crawls out of your room, shouting something the staircase about you being "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed". you're a bit awkward now, alone in a big bed, in your big room, but feeling so small. it doesn't last long before a gentle hand taps your shoulder.
when you turn, the hand is connected to a beautiful face with a shimmering outfit and long black hair, but his name, you can't quite make out on your tongue. it's in your mind, but it can't travel farther than that. he dips to sit in front of you, eyes heavy with an ironically gentle concern.
"oh, goodness, you almost scared us there with how long you were out for."
so this was saturday's sun. your mind could piece that much together. the back of amir's hand presses against your cheek, then the other, then your neck, and his nails against your skin pulls a giggle from your lips. his heart nearly melts at the sound.
"does that tickle, azizam?" your doe-eyed gaze meets his when you nod, a little exaggeratedly. it's beyond adorable. "i was simply making sure you didn't work yourself into a fever. how do you feel?"
you attempt to respond, but all that comes out is a small whine. it's the sound of a hamster in its wheel – soft and high. you try again, but to no avail, you get more tiny hamster noises. you feel amir's hand hold yours, smoothing over the skin with his thumb as you wake up more. your face scrunches in disappointment when your vocal cords don't work the way you want them to. there's no pressure from the shining man in front of you, though. he sits, patiently, telling you to take your time as he tries to fix the messy bedhead you've presented him. after a minute, you conjure a small word in response. almost half a word, when you think about it.
"..hun'ry."
amir smiles, holding your chin up beneath his fingers.
"hungry?" you return his smile and hum. "well, i think ms. betty is working on a little something to fix that."
"technically, stephan made it, but i was the one who had a favor to cash in, so i hope you feel happy with some waffles." you beam when locs of pink catch your eyes. she enters, a tray in her arms and a gentle smile on her lips. you lean into her side the second she sits down, her arm wrapping around your shoulders.
"can you tell mama how old you are?" you process her words for a second, holding up your hands to show her how far you regressed. even with your little struggle, she smiles, handing you your drink. "good job, baby. eat your breakfast, okay? we have a long day ahead."
"betty?" amir leans in her ear, his laugh coming off a bit more nervous than he meant it to. "we've never taken care of them before."
he wasn't wrong. before the dateviators, whenever you regressed, you'd handle everything yourself. you'd make your own small meals and you'd comfort yourself in betty's embrace under mateo before you knew begty and mateo were even there. this time, they felt they had to be attentive to you.
it takes a minute, but betty turns her attention to you, upper lip brushed wirh a little mustache from your drink. she wipes it away with her thumb, a sparkle in her eye that matches yours.
"well then.. what do you wanna do, baby?"
throughout the rest of the day, you were passed around the house for little activities. when you got tired of coloring with artt, you were whisked away by telly and koa for some cartoons. tyrell was never far behind when you spilled the juice that freddy gave you.
parker and chance came together for the best rounds of bubblegum and candyland while mac, dolly, and lyric were the first ones to turn to whenever you needed an answer to whatever big questions you conjured up in your little mind. mateo made sure the inanimals behaved around you and airyn and hector made sure you were never too cold or too hot. even when you got fussy mid-day, betty welcomed you into her arms for naptime with a story from teddy.
rebel was much less rebellious around you and made sure to watch their ducking mouth when bathsheba was setting up your bedtime bubble bath. berry was very, very careful when helping you brush your teeth and when giving you the most fascinating fun facts about your favorite animals as tyrell was helping you dry off.
everyone, here and there, helped you relax and admired you in their own little ways.
dunk flushed about your excitement when you came around to jump rope a bit after lunch and bev whipped up the sweetest mocktails she could when you came around to beg for one of her "big kid" drinks. even when you wandered into the breaker box, eddie kept you from the real drinks while volt stayed by your side when johnny splash was singing up on stage.
it was just after total sunset when you started to talk a bit more maturely, walked a bit more balanced, and didn't have that doe-eyed glossy look anymore. you were just getting finished with your third piggyback ride from dasha when you tapped her shoulder, voice less tiny than it had been a couple minutes.
"dasha?"
"yes, malyshka?"
"can you.. put me down, please?" she's almost confused when you asked, but does so immediately, your feet touching the ground as your mind becomes less foggy. your eyes wander around to the beings around you. they're almost.. livelier than usual. there's gentle chatter all around you, from artt and lady memoria talking about your coloring books to daisuke and mitchell linn cleaning away your little dinner.
"are you done playing, my little zayka?"
fond memories of the day come into the forefront of your mind as you feel like hiding. not like when you slipped away into your little space earlier, but out of pure embarrassment. you slide your face into your hands, head banging the wall behind you. dasha fussed at you about being careful, but it went over your head for the most part. you wandered off through the living room and up the steps of the stairs, ignoring the calls of the dateables across the rooms, and landing face down in your bed. coincidentally, betty sits there with a little smile across her lips when you do.
"feeling better, hon?"
it's embarrassing, actually. because you do. you're calmer. everything you've had to do today has been up to you. surprisingly, there's less tension in your body overall. it wasn't a miracle cure for all pain, but you aren't gritting your teeth as much, and your cheeks aren't hurting from a strained smile. they burn with the genuine joy from the day.. and an awkward realization you've probably been calling your lovers and friends "mama/dada" and "sissy/bubby" all day.
"i'm sorry for... all of that."
"sorry? oh no, no, lover. there's nothing to be sorry for." she's almost taken aback when she hears your apologetic little voice. as much as you try to look away, she takes your hands into hers, earnestly. "today was such a blast. everyone had so much fun, you seemed to enjoy yourself, too. you had the cutest smile on your face when you were going through farya's bandaids." she sighs fondly. "as much as it was a break for you, it was a break for us, too – a chance to take care of you the way you take care of us, basically. i'm sure if you asked anyone in the house, they'd tell you the same."
it doesn't take long for that to be proven. even turning your head slightly to the side, you see amir nodding, alongside the hanks, who are still playing with the paper airplanes you made after lunchtime.
"lover, look at me." betty grows a bit serious while staying gentle. she never once lets go of your hands and it almost keeps you grounded in her love for you. "you don't have to hold back from slipping, y'know. you did it long before the dateviators and we never minded."
"though, it did give daisuke a heart attack when you used the knives in that state." a sharp voice crawls into the room and your face flushes with more embarrassment than ever before.
"mayor ceilia, i–"
"all we ever wanted was for you to take a break. i guess you worked yourself into a forced day off.. but, like our holly, you need a conscious day off."
"no errands, no tasks! just you and an affogato!" florence invites herself in behind her taller counterpart. "kopi taught me that one."
"can that be tomorrow's task, perhaps? a "do-nothing" task, if you will?" you give her a soft smile.
"dorian?"
"i'll make sure no one bothers you." he huffs, answering your question before you can even start it, but the small grin on his face lets you know the blunt response is out of love and care, as everyone else's actions had been throughout the day. you lay your head back against betty's chest, relaxing against her.
perhaps this was what you needed. when dating everything goes from an enchanting experience to a neverending nerve-wracking nightmare, sometimes you have to slip into an old – or rather young – habit. allowing yourself to be taken care of instead of running around for everyone gave you a breathing moment. in the next couple days, you simply revisited some of your companions before taking up another task or quest that another dateable could send you on. when you come up the stairs and tuck yourself into bed, you don't notice it, but the mayor and her darling assistant share a relieved smile with your bed as you drifted off to sleep instead of crash landing in your dream world.
despite the hesitation to get there, a bit of self care was bringing you a long way. maybe.. if you feel a box slipping in your arms again, you should let it. perhaps there will be someone – or something – there to catch you both on the way down.
