✩˚｡ Summary ｡˚✩
Two days. That’s how long it’s been since you last saw him—the tall stranger who shielded you from the noise and walked at your pace. Two days of walking the same route, hoping. Two days of silence that left you wondering if maybe it had been just a fleeting kindness. Today, life nudges you out of your thoughts with something simple: a grocery trip. But sometimes even the most ordinary errands have a way of changing everything.
♡ Warnings / Info ♡
🌸 Soft fluff
🍥 Shy, overthinking, autistic reader
🐰 Slice of life, gentle pacing
🫖 Mentions of grocery shopping, quiet daydreams
🚫 No angst, no spicy content — just cozy vibes
- Your Pace: Part 3 -
It had been two days. Two whole days since you’d seen him.
You lay curled up on your couch, blanket draped over your shoulders like armor, staring at the same spot on the ceiling you’d been tracing for the past hour. Your chest felt tight with the memory of his voice, his quiet patience, the way he’d shielded you on that busy street like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You hadn’t realized how much space that brief meeting would take up inside you. How the memory of a man you’d only just met could echo louder than the TV humming in the background, or the faint buzz of your phone screen lighting up with meaningless notifications.
For two days straight, you’d taken the same route home, walking the same sidewalk where he had slowed down for you. Every time, you’d told yourself it was just coincidence—you just happened to like that path, that’s all. But in truth, your eyes had scanned the crowd, your chest tight with hope. Every tall figure made your heart skip until you got close enough to see it wasn’t him.
Tonight, the hope had dimmed. You curled deeper under your blanket, cheeks warm with embarrassment at yourself. He’s probably just some guy who was being nice. People don’t just appear again like that… right? You shook your head and stood, determined to push the thought away. Your kitchen cupboards were nearly empty anyway. You needed groceries—milk, fruit, something more than instant noodles. At least that was an excuse to get out of your own head.
The walk to the store was quieter than the city sidewalks usually felt, but you were still tense, clutching your shopping list like it might keep you grounded. The glass doors slid open with a hiss, cool air rushing out to meet you, and you stepped inside. You took your time with the aisles, letting the small motions soothe you. Picking up a carton, setting it back down. Reading labels. Holding your basket a little too tightly. By the time you reached the produce section, you were almost calm again.
Almost. You were halfway down the strawberries, carefully inspecting each pack, when you heard it. “...You’re picky with fruit, huh?” Your head snapped up so fast you almost dropped the container. There he was. Toji. Leaning lazily on the handle of a cart a few feet away, an eyebrow raised, his lips tugging at the faintest smirk. The fluorescent lights shouldn’t flatter anyone, but somehow they carved out every line of his jaw, every shadow under his sharp eyes.
Your stomach flipped violently, like all the air had been knocked out of you. “I... um. I just don’t like the mushy ones,” you stammered, clutching the strawberries too tight. Toji pushed his cart closer, unhurried, like the whole store moved at his pace. His gaze flicked from the fruit to you, studying with casual ease. “Makes sense. Gotta pick the best. You always shop here?”
You nodded quickly, fiddling with the corner of the label. “It’s... it's close to home.” He didn’t respond right away. Just watched you. The silence stretched long enough that your chest ached with heat. Then, softer, almost careful: “Been a couple days. Thought maybe I wouldn’t see you again.” The words hit harder than you expected. He noticed. He noticed.
You blinked, and before you could stop yourself, the truth slipped out, quiet and clumsy. “I... I walked the same street, but...” The words tangled and died, leaving the admission hanging in the air, too vulnerable, too much. But Toji didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. He just looked at you, something easing in his expression, like he’d heard all the parts you couldn’t say. “Guess it worked out,” he said finally, his voice warm and low.
Then he plucked the strawberries from your hands, turning the pack over like he was inspecting something delicate. “These’ll do. You should get ’em.” A laugh bubbled out of you; small, shy, but real. And standing there in the middle of the grocery store, you realized how much you’d missed this. His presence. His voice. The way the air wasn’t so heavy when he was near.
He placed the strawberries gently back in your basket and started pushing his cart down the aisle. He glanced back once, tilting his head just slightly, like an invitation. “C’mon. Walk with me. Might even show you which snacks are worth buying.” Your feet moved before your nerves could stop you. And suddenly, grocery shopping wasn’t just grocery shopping anymore. It was an excuse—no, a chance—to keep this unexpected thread from snapping.
Your steps fell in beside his, quiet but steady. The cart rattled gently on the tile, and though the store hummed with voices and faint music overhead, you felt more aware of him than anything else. He didn’t rush. He never did. After a moment, he glanced sideways at you. “So… what do you usually get when you shop?” The question was simple, but he asked it like he actually wanted to know. You hesitated, fingers tightening on your basket before you spoke. “Um… creamy peanut butter. And organic strawberry jam. The regular ones taste… kind of fake to me.”
His brows rose slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that much detail. “Yeah? And you just make sandwiches with ‘em?” You shook your head quickly, a small blush creeping up. “No. I… scoop a little of each out with a spoon. Together. It’s better that way.” For a beat, he stared at you—then a low chuckle slipped out. Not mean, just amused. “Huh. Didn’t think I’d meet someone eating peanut butter and jam like ice cream.”
Your lips twitched, almost a smile. Encouraged, you kept going. “I like Japanese pears, too. They’re crisp and sweet. Oh, and potatoes—scalloped, mashed with turkey gravy, or just diced in a pan.” Your voice softened, a little more confident. “But I like to eat meat a lot! Only chicken, turkey, and pork only a few times a year.”
Toji hummed, pushing his cart a little further. “So, picky.” The word wasn’t sharp. If anything, he sounded faintly approving. You bit your lip, thinking. “I just… know... what I like. I only drink water, cranberry-grape juice, strawberry lemonade, and apple juice.” “I see.” he muttered, nodding like he was filing it away. You hesitated before adding softly, “For my cat… I don’t use store food. I cook for her. Chicken with peas and carrots, a little paprika and turmeric. She likes it better.”
That made him stop for half a second, one hand resting loosely on the cart’s handle. His eyes flicked toward you, unreadable but intent. “…You cook for your cat.” You nodded, fiddling with your sleeve. “It’s healthier.” A slow smirk tugged at his mouth. “You’re somethin else.” The words lingered, low and almost warm, as he started moving again. He didn’t tease, didn’t push. Just walked beside you, like he’d been given a glimpse of something rare and was content to let you share at your own pace.
By the time you reached the checkout, your basket was fuller than you’d planned—fruit, juice, potatoes, peanut butter, jam. Toji leaned on his cart beside you, relaxed as ever, eyes flicking toward your choices like he was memorizing them. “You always shop like this?” he asked casually. You nodded, hugging your basket closer. “Yeah. It’s… what i need.... a routine...” His smirk deepened just a touch, not mocking. “Routine suits you.”
The words stayed with you through checkout, through the quiet shuffle out into the cool night air, groceries bagged in your arms. He was waiting just outside, cart set aside, as if he hadn’t considered leaving without you. “You eaten yet?” His voice was steady, low. “There’s a diner down the street. Nothin’ fancy. Just food.” Your heart thudded at the offer. For a moment, nerves tangled your thoughts—but you heard your own voice say, “…Okay.”
He tilted his head toward the street, grin faint and sure. “Then let’s go.” And just like that, you found yourself walking beside him again, bags in hand, the night humming around you....
Pairings: Mark Spector/Reader, Steven Grant/Reader, Jake Lockley/Reader
Warnings: Swear words, inaccurate DID
Word count: 6,153
Marc had taken over fronting by the time the three of you had walked from the parking garage over to Nelson and Murdock. Jake apparently taking a back seat now that he wasn't needed to drive. It seems like a strange trade off but you also dislike driving and wouldn't mind having someone to take care of that for you. Though you're a little more than envious that each of them seemingly get to – for the lack of a better term, stop existing for a bit. Passing over the reigns when things get too much or they aren't needed in the moment.
Not that you think it's easy by any means to live with their condition or in their situation at all. You just find existing difficult to do constantly for something that seems to go on for so long. Maybe that's the reason people pair off in sets you'd get someone to do things you dislike; like doing the dishes and as a trade off they'd find cooking to be a chore and you'd gladly take over that. Or even having someone like Jake to drive for those few times that you had to.
Unlike Jake, Marc doesn't walk behind you and Layla to keep an eye out for you, something you're very grateful for since it gives you a rest from the searing feeling of eyes on your back. Instead Marc walks beside you and it's only when he catches sight of the marquee as you pass it, that he steps ahead of you making sure he holds the door for both you and Layla.
“Thank you.” slips out from habit, but you're no less appreciative of his chivalrous gesture.
Your voice catches Foggy's attention, he unfurrows his brow as he fiddles with the furniture parts laying around him.
“I told Matt to lock the door.” he mutters to himself sounding miffed.
You lock the door and motion for Layla and Marc to take seats in the waiting area, as they warily eye the man's tense posture.
“I promise he doesn't bite, anyway seems he's occupied.” you say oblivious to the agitation of the strawberry blonde on the floor, and the glare he's giving you.
Foggy flips you off as he double checks the instructions, “And definitely not in the mood for your shit.”
His tone rolls right off of you as you walk to hover in front of him. His jaw clenches and relaxes the clenches back up again, like he's biting his tongue to stop himself from saying something. You are too busy looking at the upside down booklet to notice any of his out of place mannerisms.
“What's this anyway?” you ask crouching down across from him, still reading the booklet.
“Fish tank.” tone short and clipped.
“Duh, why are you getting fish though?” tilting your head as your eyes rest on him.
“Jesus, because waiting areas have fish in them!” he snaps.
You held his gaze for a moment and wait for his shoulders to relax before speaking. But he goes back to the two pieces of wood that look like they are the same, and probably aren't meant to connect like he's attempting.
“Like who's gonna take care of them though? Y'know cleaning and stuff, you guys don't really have a secretary not to mention Matt's liable to suck a fish into a siphon while cleaning if he tried.”
The attempted ice breaker falls on deaf ears as Foggy ignores you, in favor of flipping back a page in the booklet.
“So...” you draw out the word until he looks at you brow hunched downward and lips off set in a semi snarl, “What fish are you getting?”
Foggy's exclamation of 'God Dammit' and throwing down the pieces of wood in a huff have Marc and Layla leaping from their seats. Layla hovering next to you, ready to pull you behind her and Marc standing in front of you both.
Marc throws a pointed look at you from over his shoulder, “I think you've done enough, now sit.” he orders pointing towards the seat he had occupied just seconds ago.
Your face scrunches up at that and Foggy's does too.
“Hey man, don't talk to them like that.”
“We came to ask you a few questions, not to antagonize you. We just want some answers then we'll be on our way.” Marc explains.
Foggy looks your way catching your eyes and you see the storm cloud swirling in them. The same concern and question Marnie's held not even an hour ago. The questions and uncertainty getting darker and heavier the longer you don't say anything. You thump your foot down in a mix of frustration and annoyance.
“Will you shut up,” you direct at Foggy, “this is Layla, that's Marc. And we're all gonna be friends in the future...I think. Nothing nefarious.”
Again Foggy looks at you, this time with a questioning look that makes you think you've said something wrong. But you aren't sure what exactly, maybe adding 'nothing nefarious' seemed nefarious in itself.
“Shit kid, is this why Matt and I got weird half texts from you?” Foggy groans out.
“They weren't half texts, I thought they made perfect sense.”
“Yea, only after we put our texts together, you set up a puzzle for us. You really need to learn how a group chat works or how to string together a coherent thought.”
“Uggh, I know how group chats work I just hate them...” tossing your head back with a groan, “Anyway you guys figured it out.”
“That's not the point, I was worried something happened.” the air feels heavier as Foggy's real meaning hits you.
Taking a moment you're sure he meant 'I thought you disappeared again' and that throwing out 'technically something did happen' wasn't the best choice right now. Especially with how fried his nerves must be. Looking off to the side you rub at your elbow sheepishly.
“I wasn't thinking...”
It was mumbled but it was as close to an apology as Foggy would get, begrudgingly he'd accept it; he always did. Sighing he harshly rubbed a hand down his face before composing himself and sighing.
“I swear, between you and Matt I'll go gray before the end of the decade.”
“Pfft, I can make it the year.”
That comment gets you a stern look like a father reprimanding his child, it leaves you grinning like a fool at Foggy. He turns his attention to Marc, “What'd you need to ask?”
“Have you seen a....uh?” Marc struggles to find a way to phrase it without making him sound insane, “Hell, you made this seem so fucking casual when you found us.” he only gets a shrug in return. Layla looking just as lost as he is when Marc looks to her for clarification.
Seeing this won't get you guys far you take over for Marc, a small mercy for everyone, “A kid, specifically my son from the future who can time travel, you seen him? Maybe Matt has an idea?”
It takes a moment of staring at you slack jawed and a bit of rapid blinking for Foggy to fully process what you've just said. And once he does he throws his hands up in the air, as if pleading with the gods for one mundane moment in life.
“Why am I even fucking surprised anymore, honestly just why?”
He distracts himself by looking over the pictures for the cabinet stand of the aquarium, before speaking up, “I haven't seen any terror running around. Assuming we are keeping this under wraps, because of a certain local DnD reject.”
The insult earns a snort from you and a grinning nod.
“Naturally.”
Shaking his head Foggy continues, “The Matt wouldn't have mentioned anything to me if he did know something. He did mention that...that...news kid...uh the one with the nice-ish camera?”
Seeing Foggy struggle on the name of the photography intern working with Karen at The Bugle, you fill in the blank.
“Parker.”
He really didn't need to look up to know what expression you held. And seeing the sullen look fills him with overwhelming guilt over not remembering such a simple name, though he vaguely remembers it isn't his fault in the first place. Still he mutters 'Parker, Parker' under his breath a few times trying to commit it to memory. Despite the fact you both know he'll eventually forget again. Just like all the other times.
“Yea...Parker. Matt said he nearly crashed into the kid on his walk to your place that first night. Says he was a mess...more so than usual.”
You hum in acknowledgment, “Not surprised, asked him to look after Coo for me.”
“Shit, that devil bird is still alive?”
“And well – thanks for asking.” he rolls his eyes at you.
“Anything else you needed?” his eyes roaming the schematics before him.
“Will Matt be back soon?”
Foggy just offers you a non-committal noise, not even bothering to look up from the new piece of wood he's grabbed, “He went to the library; been a slow week and he wanted a few audio books.” his eyes flit over to you briefly, “Apparently the 17th Street Library doesn't offer a delivery service, who knew?”
You hum once again, “Yea we don't – just something I did to keep things in circulation. Same with the free libraries we have stationed around. Plus you trust Matt in a library?”
He gives an 'alright' motion with his head. When he doesn't speak again you take that as the end of the conversation and look towards Marc and Layla, you motion them to the door.
“Thanks Foggy, promise to keep you updated...but probably not today though my phone's dead.”
“For the love of – here you two take a business card, my personal number is the first just hit six as an extension. If this idiot gets themselves – or you into any trouble just call.” Layla takes the cards and smiles at him, glancing sideways at you.
“Reassuring that they have good friends, I've known them less of a day and can already tell they're quite the handful.” her voice is full of mirth as she speaks.
Whereas Foggy's is filled with exhaustion when he replies, “Like you wouldn't believe.”
Once she catches up with you and Marc outside the door she asks, “Where to now?”
“Library.” you say simply.
“Foggy said Matt should be there – operative word being should. Doesn't hurt to look; if he's there we can ask if he's noticed anything strange around my apartment.”
You're a little surprised when Jake doesn't take over for driving instead letting Marc stay in command of the body. You have no clue how long the boys will be in your life but since they seem close to Layla it wouldn't hurt to look into DID after everything gets back to some form of normalcy. It could help you understand the trio a little better and make sure you aren't sticking your foot in your mouth around them constantly, that would be embarrassing.
You notice Marc waits for you and Layla to put your seat-belts on before he starts the car, unlike Jake who would start the car the moment he got in but refused to move until seat-belts were secured.
Marc turns to face you, Layla makes a similar move in the passenger's seat to stare back at you. It's a bit disconcerting and makes you feel like you're being taken about under a microscope. Sweat builds in the palms of your hands and your stomach feels like it's taken up macrame.
“Ok, look we've been trying it your way since we stepped foot off the plane – and to be honest we're getting no where.” Marc speaks unknowingly breaking you from the build up of an anxiety attack. Distracting you from the twisting and twirling of your stomach.
You just offer a mute nod at his pause, not sure if he wants you to speak or just listen.
Sighing he continues, “We need to think of an actual game plan. Something more than aimlessly searching in possible areas. It's taking way too long – especially the way we're going about it now; it could be too late when we do find him. He's what seven? I don't know many kids who can be out on the street for days on end without any sort of help or being nabbed.”
“I don't know what you're expecting from me. This is literally the only idea I've had.” you jump to your defense.
“Well,” Layla speaks up with a thoughtful look on her face, “you said you had a few other crime fighting friends. Could they help?”
It's a good suggestion and an earnest one but you'd be giving up a lot of identities if you did get more heroes involved. You bite your lip and find a loose thread to play with on your jeans. This was the problem with having vigilantes in your corner, even when you got some of them together for a common goal things were bound to get messy. Personalities and morals tend to clash at some point and it's a security issue to have so many people know what face to put with the name.
“I can't out them like that, or you two for that matter. A lot of them would be able to pin Scarlet Scarab and Moon Knight on to the two of you the second you showed your masked faces.”
“Listen, you don't need to give us names or home addresses. Call them, send a text. Anything to get the word out for more eyes looking for this kid.” Marc's response comes off a little rough but you can tell he's trying to be reassuring.
You pull out your phone, “Nice idea and all but my phone's still dead.” you make a show of pushing the on button.
Layla turns back around with a frown. Her brown eyes skim the below street before landing on a corner store. She barely utters out 'wait here' before she's sprinting to it leaving you and Marc in the car.
“Layla!” Marc tries to get her attention but she's a woman on a mission.
He slumps in his seat and closes his eyes as the bridge of his nose wrinkles up. You watch silently from the rear view mirror. A familiar feeling eating away at you.
You can't help but sigh as you think about what just took place in Nelson and Murdock. You really don't think a lot of things through and act recklessly. This past week alone you made Foggy and probably Matt worry, forced an added responsibility onto Peter, and got Layla and the system wrapped up in this time traveler hunt. Marc especially; the man had to deal with getting bullied in his own body by his patron of sorts. It's understandable that he's so frustrated, and he is right about the search and how it's going. You aren't too proud to admit you don't know what you're doing.
“Hey Marc,” he glances up into the mirror to lock eyes with you, it nearly makes you loose your nerve but after a moment you continue after breaking eye contact, “Sorry for dragging you guys into this. I'm not really sure what to do in this situation. I may be on good terms with a few vigilantes but...I've never been on this side of the mission before. As soon as we find the kid you don't have to stick around. I know what Khonshu said but future me only said I needed Layla's help finding the kid not sending him home.”
When your eyes lock again you see that the stern look in his eyes had softened a bit, the crease in his forehead and nose were gone. The man in the driver's seat was still tense but he looked like he wasn't as stressed as a moment before.
He doesn't say anything though and you're both left in comfortable silence as you wait for Layla to return. It isn't a long wait though and she returns with a car charger in hand.
“Here give me your phone, I figured that mini mart down there would have even a crappy portable charger for us to use.” you hand over your phone easily and she plugs it in.
Once everyone's buckled up again, Marc drives out to the library.
“Hell's kitchen more like Hell's parking lot. Where the fuck do you even go – what's that guy doing...is that even legal?!” Marc's been ranting for three minutes on the lack of parking, you really want to suggest he let Jake take control since he hadn't had an issue – though if you're being fair Jake had a parking garage near the firm. So instead you keep your mouth shut.
“Marc look to the right, what about there – think it's a spot?”
Your eyes land on the section Layla's talking about, it's an open area near a cafe on the other side of the street. By the time you spin around to get to it, it'll be taken.
“Nah, just keep straight we've gotta hit something on this side at some point.”
“How the hell do you live here?” you just shake your head before going back to your phone and texting Matt.
Marc's eyes are focused on the road and scanning the area like a hawk for any opening. Actively cursing Jake out for his stupid idea to rent a car in a city where parking isn't always available; when a flash of tan and orange catches his eye. A fluffy tabby just sitting proud and tall on the black top near the edge of the side walk. The cat looked like it was waiting for something and no one seemed to notice it. One thing Marc did notice was the spot it was in was large enough for the van to pull into. Hoping the cat wouldn't have a fearless attitude and would move on once the car came near he made move to take the spot.
The cat elegantly stood up and hopped onto the side walk and sat patiently staring up into the windows. Layla having seen the whole thing eyes the cat carefully and didn't make any moves to get out of the car.
“Is it me or it that cat...waiting for something?” she asks not taking her eyes off the long haired tabby.
“It's still over there?” Marc asks as he unbuckles his seat-belt and tries to crane his neck to see over her window.
Looking up from your phone you notice the cat.
“Oh don't worry, that's Horus, he's like the library's pet. Probably hunting for someone to let him back in. Foot traffic's slow this time of day.” you scoot towards the right hand door and step out.
You catch Steven's mirthful musing of 'a cat named after a bird and god of the sky', just before you step fully out of the van. The second you're out Horus comes over brushing up against your legs and cooing up at you. You squat down as Layla and Marc get out and come up to the two of you. Upon seeing the new arrivals Horus goes right on up to Layla and brushed up against her without even sniffing. She passes the vibe check, honestly it's hard to fail a Horus vibe check – you've only seen it happen a few times. Made sure to stay clear of those few.
“Aww he's cute. He just lives at the library?” Layla asks scratching the top of his head and looking at you.
“Pretty much. His decision. We've tried to take him home a few times but he's thrown genuine hissy fits when taken away from the area, or even brought into one of those apartments about three blocks back.” The cat didn't have a mean bone in his body but the second you tried taking him way from the library he turned down right feral.
Marc's hands ball up at his sides and twitch occasionally as he unclenches and clenches his fists. He stiffens when Horus locks on to him and walks away from you and Layla to rub all over Marc's jeans. You smile knowingly because Horus is known for finding cat lovers and milking all the attention he can get. It's always a treat to see how fast big tough grizzly men fall to the feet of the overly friendly cat. Meanwhile Layla is surprised to see just how friendly the cat is with Marc, she knows most animals have a weird reaction to the system. It's the main reason Steven keeps a goldfish, despite suspecting all three men have a love for cats.
But watching the man now even he was surprised at the cat currently loving all on him. You however took his shock as nerves. “Don't worry he's super friendly. He normally does this when he wants to be held. Just pick him up like you would burp a baby. He'll be in heaven.”
Marc opens his mouth to say something before his jaw clicks shut and he goes stiff before swooping in and picking up Horus, just like you said to. His hand even went behind the cat's ears and began giving them a good scratching. Horus of course ate up all the attention and was purring up a storm, just watching the two left you grinning. You loved this cat dearly and would never get tired of watching him shamelessly beg for affection.
Layla was also left smiling knowing that the system was probably having the time of their lives. She'd have snagged a picture if she knew Marc or Jake wouldn't ruin the moment after she got caught.
When Marc spent a few minutes longer than anyone else would spend holding Horus you figured all the men were taking their turns with the cat. A cat who certainly didn't mind all the attention, furthering your belief that he is a ragdoll mix of some sort. But you were still technically on a mission and needed to move things along.
“Alright let's get a move on, Horus wants in the library so you can just keep holding him till one of you gets tired with this arrangement you've got. Fair warning Horus never gets tired.” the small tease you threw in was so worth it to see the way those brown eyes lit up and glittered with excitement.
It was a pure unadulterated joy that shone through and it warmed your chest to see, the added endearment of Horus purring so loudly was nearly drowning you in a wave of unending cuteness. The scene so sweet you were sure to be left with a mouth full of cavities, your molars practically tingled at the thought.
This time you held the door open for Layla and Marc who was still holding Horus. Stepping through the door you took out you phone to check if Matt replied yet. Though it was useless to check when a soft muted tapping sound reached your ears. Barely glancing up you spot Matt on his way over to the three of you. Layla noticing his approach and thinking you were too involved with your phone to notice the blind man walking towards you gently grasp your arm and guides you off to the side of the entrance. You send a small questioning glance her way, confused by her actions, before Matt gets close enough to tap the end of his cane with your shoe. He does it a few more times, like he always did; you think he just does it to get a laugh out of you.
It doesn't fail to make you smile, your head snapping and shaking a little at a stim from the sudden burst of excitement. Even though he can't see your reaction when he hears the small laugh that leaves you he smiles.
Such a dork.
“There you are, I'd ask what took so long but I can hear someone's powered up Horus.” Matt says bringing his cane back up.
“Yea, we got jumped the second we stepped out of the car.” you pause before starting in on the introductions, “Oh, by the way these are my new friends Layla,”
She takes your pause as her cue to speak, “Hello, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, sorry you've been dragged around by this one.” he taps you again with his cane, then sticks his hand out for her to shake.
“It's certainly been...an experience. Also this is Marc, his hands are full at the moment.” she says taking Matt's hand.
When Marc doesn't say anything you look over, a little nervous that he may not be the one fronting at the moment. You aren't sure who's fronting at the moment, their focus is entirely on the cat in their arms.
Looking back to Matt you can see the wrinkling of his forehead, he must have heard the tremor of anxiety in your heartbeat. Or did he hear some sort of internal shift with the system, did each man have a different heartbeat? It wouldn't be too strange if they all breathed differently, that may be more plausible than a change in heartbeat.
“Sorry seems he's preoccupied with Horus, you know how it is.” you joke, trying to seem like you aren't worried but you can never fool Matt.
A part of you wonders if you should have prepared them for meeting Matt; though you trust Matt to not say anything hell the man knows all heroes in the city and their identities and has never uttered a word to Foggy or you – the one who at least knows three mutual acquaintances of his. But right now you aren't sure if Matt is even able to tell of a shift in the system, or if it's something else he's concerned about. You aren't too personable so it isn't often you're found traveling with strangers. And who knows what Foggy may have told him.
Keeping information from your friends really hurts your head. It'd be so much simpler if everyone knew the vigilante thing and the DID thing but none of those tidbits of information are yours to share, so hidden they stay. Navigating the social structure of who'll be mad when everything inevitably comes out is so tedious and is starting to make you more than a little queasy.
“Can't blame him, Horus is a charmer.”
It may be you projecting but the way Matt says him makes you suspect he already knows. When will this man figure out he's not gonna get away with everything just because he's blind, there's only so many times 'just a hunch' will work for him. Matt's like the worst liar you know; it's really surprising Spiderman and Deadpool haven't figured out who he is yet...it's a bit obvious with the context.
“Oh and here I thought I was special.” Marc sasses the tabby to only get a head bonk in return.
Your lung feel like they can work properly again.
Marc smiles at the cat before putting him down on the floor, trying to get back on track. Only for Horus to keep demanding his attention by rubbing between his legs whilst purring like a little steam engine and flopping over exposing his belly. Tempting Marc in for more pets.
Marc has to stay strong, no matter how much Jake begs to pet the cat one more time.
'It's never just one more, with you and a cat Jake.'
'Bitch.'
Marc greets Matt, eyes raking over the other man, locking onto his cane and giving a side glance towards you for a moment. Your poker face is decent but your eyes show you're nervous clearly.
Matt's head tilts to the side ear closest to you turned slightly higher with a small twitch as he picks up the increase pulsing of your heartbeat. He suspects you may have said a few things that just didn't add to your new companions.
“I think you'd like to know I nearly tripped on a misplaced book coming to meet you.”
Breaking you from your spiral you can only groan out, “Parker?”
Matt chuckles, “Probably, semester just started after all. I assume that's why you divvied up the house sitting.” Matt of course catches the way Layla's breath evens out and tension leaves Marc.
You mutely nod before answering, “Yea, that and the kid needs the money, he's too proud to take it without working.” you sigh before asking, “Science section?”
“Surprisingly.” Matt chuckles lifting his hand out in front of him again.
You easily guide it to your elbow for him to grasp and say, “Come on then.” Layla and Marc follow close behind.
Once you get to the aforementioned section you just have to follow the trail of chaos towards an isle that reveals the disheveled brunette.
“Peter Parker, you are aware we have tables, right? And please at least put back the books when you're done skimming. I've lost track of how many times I've told you this.” you sigh looking at his mess. A mix of workbooks, textbooks, notebooks, two library issued ipads and library books strewn about haphazardly.
“He-hey, you're back, that was quick. Wha – no when'd you get tables here, fancy.” he whistles out the last word but it dies down as he sees your unamused expression.
“C'mon no one comes down these isles we both know that, plus I'm still using these see – marked my place in those.” he gestures to a couple of books by your feet and you can see the cheap pale sticky notes marking various spots in the books.
Your shoulders relax as you look at the man just a few years younger than yourself. Hair a mess, clothes wrinkled with crumbs of his morning bodega breakfast sandwich still on them. You know school's been far from rough for the kid despite going through his second semester of college alone and his extra circulars. All this studying is for his own personal projects, he's been trying his hardest to follow in his mentor's footsteps. It breaks your heart because the kid could've had so much better, could be doing bigger better projects had things gone a little differently. Had they actually been worked out.
Sighing you hold out the hand that wasn't attached to the arm Matt was holding, “Gimme your phone, I still owe you for babysitting. How was he?” Peter's hazel eyes look at you with confusion, you normally lecture him a bit more so the sudden change is a bit jarring but he's not about to complain. Handing you his phone without question you open it to your account to transfer a little more than what you promised him for watching your bird. Before closing out and handing it back to him.
“Oh yea, no, he was fine. Was kind of a shock to find him just like in the middle of your apartment though. Really freaked me out, was not expecting that you know, a warning woulda been nice.”
You snort a bit, Coo had been messing with the lock of his cage for a few weeks now so of course he'd finally pick it when you were gone. Looks like you'll have to switch his lock, again.
“Honestly thought it was weird you hadn't just taken him with you, but we figured things out eventually. He's very smart and pretty independent which has been fantastic – don't get me wrong though I still left him with May when I went to class. Also she's gonna have several questions for you next time she sees you.”
You raise an eyebrow at that, “Peter you didn't have to do all that, I'm sure he would've been fine on his own for a bit. Is he with May now, I can probably swing by and pick him up later tonight...maybe I have some things to take care of still – so like technically not back yet.:
Peter blinks owlishly at you before his face contorts into a confused shock, “uuhm – now I have several concerns. But no he's not with May. I thought he could use sometime out of the apartment and brought him out here with me. “
“Like to the library?” he nods confused by your confusion, “Peter, why would you bring a pigeon into the library?”
It takes a moment for Peter to respond, his brain slowly catching up to the train you'd just been on, before dropping the bomb.
“I – are you talking about Coo? I was suppose to be watching your bird?!”
When it sunk in that Peter hadn't been talking about Coo you took off. Leaving the group behind without a single word. Matt had felt the shift in your muscles just before you ran and had let go, not wanting to get dragged down in your haste or slow you down. Peter scrambled to get off the floor and to follow after you, and while Layla had taken the time to guide Matt, Marc was running close behind you. Not wanting to loose sight in case something happened.
The library was fairly large and the children's section was on the second floor so you'd had to run up a flight of stairs. He had been right under your noses for a full twenty minutes and you weren't about to loose him. Though it was frustrating to know that he'd just been with the Parkers for the past few days you were relieved to know he hadn't been in any danger. Stars knew the crimes May would commit to keep a child safe, and a child she deemed family even more so.
Speeding to the children's section you round the decorative archways, letter blocks with open books tilted on to a tip, to find the small isles empty. The stage bare and quiet, it was a school day in the middle of fall so it wasn't unusual. As you stepped further inside and checked the homework station you still turned up empty. It was when you passed on of the smaller reading nooks, meant on for a single kid, that you spotted him.
In your rush you'd almost flown by him, your sudden stop almost had Marc careen into you. When he caught your line of sight he froze. There he was tucked into the reading nook, all cozy in his red and blue windbreaker that matched the primary colored walls surrounding him. But his warm toned golden skin and dark curls stuck out to you.
You took in every aspect of him that you could, you had never seen this child before and you worked near exclusively in this department of the library for the last three years. From the moment you saw the concentrated look on his face as he read you felt as if you'd known him forever. There was a stinging behind your eyes and a weight in your chest – you'd been detached from this mission until this moment. Everything was hitting you all at once, it finally felt real and you felt acutely aware of the world actively spinning around you the moment his large brown eyes met yours.
His eyes widening at your sudden appearance, book forgotten as it threatened to slip out of his hands, but he made no move to move or say anything. A growing fear was visible on his face as his eyes flickered between the two of you, an anxiety that was eating away at him with every passing second that you stayed quiet. You could see it in the way he curled into himself to make himself smaller.
It all washed away when you whispered a single word, a name.
“Mateo.”
His reaction was instant, as he leapt off the seat and ran towards you. Tears budding and spilling out of his eyes as he ran into your arms and wept. For you it had been a few days of knowing about and searching for a future you didn't know for him it'd been the first time he'd seen a parent in days, it didn't matter to him that you didn't actually know him yet – all that mattered was you were here. You meant safety and comfort to him, and soon he'd be back home in his own time.
By the time Layla, Matt, and Peter arrived to this hidden little corner they were met with you gently swaying side to side with a crying child buried deep in your arms. An anxious and faint looking Steven standing awkwardly to the side, who kept stealing glances at you and the child before swallowing hard and looking at anything else. Only to steal more glances every few seconds.
“Is this a bad time to bring up that your pigeon did bite me?”
Autism Acceptance Month, Day 1: The Main 3 While you Have a Meltdown
Disclaimer: this headcannon (and all of the pieces in this event) are based off of my own personal experiences as an autistic person. Many people, especially people of color and AFAB folx have different support needs/daily struggles. Please do not attack anyone or belittle their experience as an autistic person, based on my own.
Warnings: N/A
Izuku
Izuku definitely has a written list of what helps you calm down written down. He’s got two copies, one on the fridge, one in his phone.
This man definitely keeps fidget toys in his bag and in those little containers on the belt of his hero costume.
Will willingly leave events if you’re feeling overwhelmed at hero galas or big parties.
Keeps emergency same foods and drinks in the pantry!
Will use his body to shield you so people don’t stare at you if you’re in public and will only try to move you once you’re ready.
Knows your triggers and will go out of his way to help you avoid them.
In the moment he’s extra quiet and soft, and anything you ask for, he’s running to go get it.
If he’s driving he’s got one hand on your thigh. He’s not telling you it’s going to be okay, because god knows you don’t want to hear that right now. He’s spitting some random, niche all might fact at you to try and distract you.
Already has the soft rain sounds or piano music queued up to play before you even make it to the car.
He encourages you to trace the scars on his hands. The raised texture is soothing, and feeling the soft pads of your fingers on his hand reassures him that he’s actually helping you.
Went out of his way to buy you a half filled build a bear, and filled it with beans so you could have a weighted stuffed animal.
Shoto
Did not know what to do the first time you had a meltdown.
Honestly just stood there for a second trying to figure out what had upset you all of a sudden.
When he figures it out, god is he apologetic.
Rather than going and just looking it up, he’s straight to the point and asks exactly what he can do next time to help you.
He shares his sunglasses if it’s too bright outside.
He already has noise canceling headphones and just hands them over.
Rubs thumbs over your knuckles and whispers comforting words.
Tries to get your mind off of it by asking what you’d like to eat or do later.
Will only touch you once he gets the green light to do so, and when he does he’s giving you all the deep pressure hugs for a long as you need.
More than willing to give you space if you need it, but he’s always close by in case you change your mind.
If you’re spacing and need to be grounded, Shoto will run cold a hand over your arm. Not too cold to hurt, but there’s definitely a thin layer of ice on his palm.
Reads to you if you’re having a meltdown at home. Normally the same chapter book that he just continues whenever you need it.
Bakugo
This grump is the surprising one.
Immediately recognizes you’re tense and overstimulated before even you do.
Hits you with a “You’re tense.”
Quietly offers you water or your weighted blanket.
Cuts down the dumbass and moron talk when you’re upset because he’s not a complete asshole.
Cuddle MASTER. Scratches your scalp, runs warm hands over your muscles or
You don’t have to say thank you. You’ll just get an eye roll and a “It’s whatever.”
Knows your same food and immediately either goes for supplies or makes it for you.
If you don’t want to be touched he takes it really well and just sits close by to monitor. He’s pretending to do something else, but he’s really watching you.
Panicked because you’ve lost something? This man is an organization genius. He’s probably seen whatever you’re looking for and will make you sit down while he looks for it.
Will hit you with the “You okay?” When you’re calm.
Don’t let anyone stare at you in public. He’s got his hands over your ears and he’s yelling at all those extras to mind their own business.
Thank you so much for reading! Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed these! See you guys tomorrow!
| Please do not copy or repost my work elsewhere, fic recs are fine! |
✩˚｡ Summary ｡˚✩
The diner was supposed to be just another quiet stop—a place for warm food and soft conversation, where the world could stay small for a little longer. But when a sharp moment cuts through the calm, Toji’s steady presence becomes something fiercer, something protective. And somehow, in the glow of neon lights and the clink of coffee mugs, you find yourself sharing more than just a meal.
♡ Warnings / Info ♡
🌸 Soft fluff, budding romance
🍥 Shy, autistic reader (fidgets, stutters, sensory sensitivities)
🐰 Gentle/protective Toji, with a glimpse of his fiercer side
🫖 Cozy diner setting, grocery shopping follow-up, mentions of reader’s routines
🚫 Mild tension (no heavy angst), no spicy content—just cozy vibes with a touch of drama
- Your Pace -
The evening air was cool, carrying the faint bite of damp pavement and car exhaust. Your grocery bags pulled at your arms, the plastic handles pressing into your palms, peanut butter, jam, cranberry-grape juice, Japanese pears, and a few potatoes tucked inside. The city’s hum was softer now, a low murmur of neon buzz and distant laughter, but it still prickled at the edges of your awareness. Toji walked beside you, his single grocery bag slung over his shoulder, his broad frame moving with an ease that made the weight seem like nothing. His sweater shifted faintly against his jeans, and you caught a trace of his cologne, cedar, maybe, with a hint of something clean, like rain.
He’d mentioned a diner down the street. “Nothing fancy. Just food,” he’d said, his voice low and unhurried. Your heart had flickered, nerves twisting, but you’d managed a quiet, “Okay,” surprised by your own certainty. Now, your steps matched his, slow, deliberate, like he was measuring his pace to yours. The city’s noise felt less sharp with him there, his presence a buffer that dulled the edges. The bags crinkled with each step, a steady rhythm that kept you grounded.
The diner appeared around the corner, its neon sign glowing red and blue, the word Diner humming faintly in the dark. Fogged windows let warm light spill onto the sidewalk, casting gold streaks across the pavement. A bell jingled as Toji held the door open, just long enough for you to slip inside. The air was warm, thick with coffee, grilled bread, and a faint sweetness, pancakes, maybe, or pie. It settled into your bones, loosening the tension in your shoulders.
The place wasn’t packed but not empty either. An older man sat at the counter, flipping through a newspaper. A couple murmured over coffee in a booth. A woman scrolled her phone, earbuds in. Chrome-edged stools lined the counter, glinting under fluorescent lights, and a jukebox in the corner played a soft, old tune, some crooner’s voice weaving through the clink of dishes and the hiss of a coffee machine.
Toji nodded toward a booth in the back, tucked against a window. “That work?” he asked, his voice cutting through the diner’s hum without overpowering it. You nodded, fingers tightening on your bags. He led the way, sliding into the booth with a casual ease, setting his bag on the floor. You hesitated, then settled opposite him, the vinyl creaking under you as you carefully placed your bags beside you.
The table was worn, smooth from years of use, with a faint stickiness under your fingertips. A laminated menu sat between you, edges curled, listing burgers, fries, and shakes in faded print. You traced the menu’s edge, the texture keeping your nerves in check. Toji leaned back, one arm along the booth’s edge, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, watching you with a quiet focus that made your chest tighten.
“Know what you want?” he asked, nodding at the menu, his tone gentle, like he knew choosing could feel heavy. You scanned the options, words blurring slightly under the weight of too many choices. Your fingers twitched, itching to fidget with your sleeve, but you kept them on the menu. “Um, fries and chicken tenders, maybe? And, strawberry lemonade?” Your voice was soft, tentative, but it came easier with him there.
He gave a small nod, like it was a perfectly reasonable choice. “Fries, tenders, lemonade. Good call.” His lips twitched, a faint smile that felt personal, not performative. “I’ll get a burger. Coffee, black. You cool if I order for you?” Relief hit you like a warm wave. “Yes, please,” you said, a little too quickly. Talking to servers always felt like navigating a minefield, your words tripping over themselves under their impatient stares. Toji just hummed, flipping the menu closed like it was no big deal.
A server approached, young, tight ponytail, name tag reading Kayla Hing. Her face was pinched, like she was counting down the minutes to the end of her shift. She tapped her pen on her notepad, barely glancing at you. “What’s the order?” she asked, voice flat, eyes flicking to her watch. Toji leaned forward, his presence steady. “Fries, chicken tenders, strawberry lemonade for her,” he said, tone firm but even. “Burger for me, medium, no onions. Black coffee.” His eyes stayed on her, making sure she heard.
Kayla scribbled, her pen scratching loudly. “That it?” she muttered, already half-turning away. You realized you’d forgotten something, your throat tightening as you forced the words out. “Can, can the lemonade be, not too sweet? Please?”
She stopped, spinning back with a sharp exhale, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t say that before,” she snapped, her tone slicing through the diner’s hum. “I already wrote it down. You want me to change it now?” The words hit hard, like a door slamming shut. Your breath caught, fingers freezing on the menu. Your thoughts scrambled, words tangling before they could form. Heat pricked at your eyes, and you felt your chest tighten, the diner’s sounds, clinking plates, the jukebox, distant voices, suddenly too loud, too close.
“I’m sorry,” you stammered, voice barely audible. “I didn’t, I just,” Your hands twitched, reaching for your sleeve, twisting the fabric hard. A tear slipped down your cheek, hot and humiliating, and you swiped at it, trying to shrink into the booth. The noise pressed in, overwhelming, and you wanted to disappear. Toji’s posture changed. He’d been relaxed, almost slouched, but now he sat up, shoulders squared, his gaze locking onto Kayla with a cold intensity. His voice, when he spoke, was low, sharp, like a blade held steady. “Hey. She’s ordering. You don’t get to talk to her like that.” The words weren’t loud, but they carried a weight that made the air feel heavy. Kayla froze, her pen hovering, her face flushing.
“I didn’t mean,” she started, but Toji cut her off, his voice still low but edged with something hard, protective. “You did. She’s being polite. You’re being rude. Fix it.” His eyes didn’t waver, and you caught a glimpse of something new in him, not just the calm, steady Toji, but something fiercer, like he’d step in front of anything that tried to hurt you. Your breath hitched, hands still trembling as you wiped your cheek again. The diner felt too bright, too exposed, but Toji’s presence was an anchor, even if his anger made your heart race. Kayla muttered something, scribbling again. “Fine. Less sweet,” she said, clipped, before turning and stalking off.
You stared at the table, fingers still twisting your sleeve, the fabric soft but not enough to stop the spinning in your head, I messed up, I shouldn’t have spoken, he’s mad, she’s mad. But Toji’s voice cut through, softer now, the edge gone. “Hey,” he said, leaning forward just enough to catch your attention. “You good?” You nodded, too fast, eyes fixed on the table’s worn grain. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to, make her mad.”
Toji exhaled, not quite a sigh, and leaned back, his posture easing. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his voice steady, like a hand pulling you back from a ledge. “She’s just got an attitude. Not on you.” He paused, then added, quieter, “You don’t gotta apologize for asking for what you want.” The words settled slowly, like leaves falling, and your shoulders loosened a fraction. You glanced at him, just for a second, his face calm again but with a new glint in his eyes, something protective, resolute. It made your chest feel warm, despite the lingering sting of the moment.
A man in a collared shirt approached, name tag reading Manager. His expression was all apology, hands clasped. “I’m so sorry about that,” he said, voice professional but genuine. “That’s not how we treat customers. Your server’s been let go, she’s had issues, and this was the last straw. Your meal’s on us, and I’ll make sure your order’s right.” He looked at you, then Toji, his tone softening. “I hope you’ll give us another chance.”
Toji gave a short nod. “Appreciate it,” he said, his jaw relaxing. The manager nodded, offered another apology, and left. The diner’s hum returned, soft music, clinking dishes, low voices, like nothing had happened. You fidgeted with your sleeve, the motion slower now. “You didn’t have to, do that,” you said, voice small but steadier. “But, thanks.” Toji’s lips twitched, a faint smile. “Don’t mention it,” he said, echoing his words from the park, but with a warmth that made your chest lighten. “Just how it should be.”
A new server brought your drinks, strawberry lemonade for you, pale pink and cool, and black coffee for Toji, steam curling from the mug. The server was quick, polite, gone before you could feel overwhelmed. You wrapped your hands around the glass, the chill soothing your palms, and took a sip. It was just right, tart, not too sweet, with a soft strawberry bite. Your shoulders relaxed fully.
Toji watched, his coffee untouched. “Good?” he asked, checking more than the drink. You nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Good,” you said, voice soft but sure. He took a sip of his coffee, his hands nearly swallowing the mug, calloused fingers steady. A thin scar crossed one knuckle, catching the light. You wanted to ask about it, but the words stayed stuck. Instead, you sipped your lemonade, letting it ground you.
“So,” he said, setting his mug down. “You cook for your cat. What else you make?” His tone was easy, like he was picking up a thread from earlier, genuinely curious. You blinked, surprised. Your fingers tapped the glass lightly, a small fidget. “Mostly simple stuff,” you said, voice soft but steadier. “Turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce. Scalloped potatoes sometimes. Things that, feel right.” You hesitated, cheeks warming. “Cozy, I guess.”
Toji’s lips twitched, like he was holding back a grin. “Cozy’s not a bad thing,” he said. “Beats takeout. You ever make soup? Seems like it’d suit you.” You tilted your head, thinking. “I’ve thought about it. Maybe potato leek. Or miso. But, no good recipe yet.” Your voice gained a little strength, the topic pulling you out of your shell. He nodded, like he was tucking that away. “I make a decent miso,” he said, casual. “Broth, miso paste, tofu. Nothing complicated. Keeps you warm.” He paused, then added, “Could show you sometime, if you want.”
Your heart did a small flip, the word sometime carrying a promise of more moments like this. You nodded, too shy to look up. “I’d like that.” The food arrived, golden fries and crisp chicken tenders in a red basket for you, a hefty burger for Toji, stacked with lettuce and tomato, the bun glossy with butter. The smell of warm bread and grilled meat mixed with your lemonade’s sweetness. You grabbed a fry, its warmth steadying your fingers, and took a bite. Salty, crisp, comforting. Your chest loosened.
Toji bit into his burger, chewing slowly, eyes half-closed like he was savoring it. You watched the way his jaw moved, the faint stubble catching the light. He caught you looking and raised an eyebrow, no judgment, just a spark of amusement. “What?” he asked, voice muffled. You flushed, shaking your head. “Nothing. Just, you seem to like it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like enough.
He chuckled, low and easy. “It’s a solid burger. Wanna try?” He tilted it toward you, not pushing. You shook your head, fingers tightening on a tender. “No, thanks. I, don’t do beef much.” He nodded, setting it down. “Fair enough.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “You said chicken, turkey, sometimes pork. Why’s that?” The question felt natural, not prying. You broke a fry in half, fidgeting. “Texture,” you said softly. “Beef’s, heavy. Chewy sometimes. Chicken’s lighter. And I like knowing what’s in my food. Feels, safer.”
He nodded, no trace of judgment. “Makes sense. Control’s good.” He sipped his coffee, eyes flicking to you. “Knew someone once, real picky about food. Said it was about knowing what’s going in you.” You tilted your head, curious. “A friend?” The words slipped out, and you froze, worried you’d crossed a line. Toji’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Yeah. Old friend. Long time ago.” His voice had a weight, like there was more to the story, but he didn’t share, and you didn’t push. The small glimpse felt like enough.
You took another bite, chewing slowly. The diner’s warmth, the soft jukebox tune, Toji’s steady presence, it all made the air feel less heavy. You felt bold enough to ask, “Do you, like the city? You seem, okay with it.” He leaned back, arm along the booth. “It’s fine,” he said, thoughtful. “Loud, crowded, but you find quiet spots if you know where to look. Like here. Or that park.” He nodded toward the window, the neon sign buzzing faintly. “You just carve out your space.”
You nodded, his words hitting home. “I try. Quiet places help. But, it’s a lot sometimes.” Your fingers tapped the table, a small rhythm. Toji’s eyes softened slightly. “Yeah. Used to hate the noise myself. Still do, some days.” He paused, then added, “That’s why I notice folks like you. Ones who look like the city’s weighing on them.” Your breath caught, eyes flicking to his before darting away. He’d noticed, not just you, but people like you, carrying too much. Your cheeks warmed, and you focused on your tenders. “Didn’t think anyone would,” you murmured.
He shrugged, like it was obvious. “I do.” The words were plain but heavy, stirring something warm in your chest. The meal passed quietly, bites, sips, small words. Toji didn’t push you to talk, but he kept the silence light, commenting on the diner’s retro vibe or the coffee’s bite. You added quiet thoughts, a food truck you liked, how the lemonade was just right. Each word felt like a step forward.
When the plates were cleared, the server brought a slice of apple pie, ice cream melting into the crust. “On the house,” she said, her voice kinder than Kayla’s. Toji nudged it toward you. “You first.” You hesitated, then took a small bite. Warm apple, cinnamon, flaky crust, it was perfect. You closed your eyes briefly, savoring it. Toji watched, his expression soft. “Good?” he asked. You nodded, a small smile forming. “Really good,” you said, voice steady for the first time that night.
He took a bite after you, fork clinking lightly. The diner’s hum faded, and for a moment, it was just you, him, and the neon glow. You didn’t want it to end. The bill, covered by the manager, came and went. Toji stood, stretching, his shirt lifting slightly to show a sliver of skin. You looked away, cheeks warm, and gathered your bags. The night air was sharp as you stepped outside, the city’s hum quieter now. Toji matched your pace, bag over his shoulder, the sidewalk streaked with light from passing cars.
You walked in silence, bags crinkling, your apartment not far. Toji’s presence felt steady, his cologne faint but grounding. You glanced at him, catching the scar on his lip in the streetlight. At your building, a narrow brick walk-up with a flickering streetlamp, Toji stopped, eyeing the steep stairs. “Bags heavy?” he asked, voice casual but careful. “Want help getting them up?” Your heart skipped, the offer unexpected but warm. You hesitated, fingers tightening on the handles. Letting him into your space felt big, but his calm expression made it seem okay. “Um, yeah,” you said softly. “If you don’t mind.”
His lips curved slightly. “Don’t mind,” he said, taking a bag, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He nodded toward the stairs. “Lead the way.” You took a breath, clutching your remaining bag, and started up, Toji’s steps steady behind you. The city’s hum faded, and for a moment, the world felt lighter, like it could fit in the space between you.
Pairings: Mark Spector/Reader, Steven Grant/Reader, Jake Lockley/Reader
Warnings: Swear words, inaccurate DID, inaccurate Spanish (I’m like lvl one guys bonus I did grow up in a bilingual family so accurate bilingual moments)
Word count: 6,441
It was a long and silent walk back to the car. Everyone was walking on eggshells to not crack under the suffocating silence that had fallen over your now large group. The occasional sniffle could be heard from the young boy gripping your hand to the point it was starting to feel numb. As Mateo played with the rings on your fingers doing his best to calm down.
After you'd released him from the hug back in the library; you, Layla, and Peter all saw double. When standing next to Steven it would be hard to even try and deny who Mateo got his genes from. It was telling if it got even Peter to shut his mouth. Matt had to make his own conclusions based off of the general reactions. Thankfully for once he'd put a lid on his sarcastic comments and was allowing everyone else to have a moment to process the big reveal. Or he was focusing on how to explain this all to Foggy later, the man was like an overprotective older brother when it came to you, he probably wouldn't be too happy to know you'd have a child with this strange man.
There were a few glances sent Steven's way by large teak wood doe eyes. All the work Mateo did to soothe himself was undone with every glance he sent in the man's direction – the you boy's eyes fluttering rapidly and the grip on your hand constricting even more.
Not one of the system had said one word to him.
And it was heart breaking to watch Mateo struggle with the silence. You wanted nothing more than to engulf him in another hug and reassure him things were fine. That Steven, Marc, and Jake just needed a little bit to get their thoughts together; that unlike you the men hadn't been expecting to meet their future son this week. But it wasn't the time to have a sit down with the kid, you still needed to get him somewhere safe, somewhere with wards built in.
Not to mention you'd hate to just put the men on the spot like that – they deserved this brief moment of contemplation. Especially with the way Steven was wringing his hands as if he were trying to pop his wrist right off of his arm.
Then the silence was abruptly shattered for you and Steven when you got to the car.
“Kid's too small, he needs a booster seat.” Jake said via reflection in the back window as you all approached.
His gaze flickered towards Steven but would linger on Mateo as he spoke to his headmate, likely forgetting that you could also hear him.
Steven jumped out of his skin when the words suddenly came flying out, breaking him from his thoughts. The system could speak in their headspace and hear each other fine, but Steven was known to block out everything when he was so deep in thought. Scaring the hell out of Steven to get his attention had become accepted by all including Steven, begrudgingly.
Steven's jump went unnoticed to the other three as Peter had stopped walking suddenly and frantically began attempting to pop his ears. Layla looked on concerned and Matt stopped as she slowed down, not wanting to bump into his guide should she stop.
“You alright Peter?” she asked confused by his sudden jittery behavior.
“Uh...hm.. yeah just, got an intense ringing just now.”
The back of Peter's neck was practically crawling and he couldn't gauge where his senses were telling him to look.
“Well then, Mr. Parker we should probably get you home then. Maybe laying down will help that.” Matt let go of Layla's arm as he used his cane to find Peter again.
Taking your focus off of Jake's ranting you ask, “Did you guys need a ride?”
“No that's alright, I should get back to the firm. Have to get some work done today.” Matt jokes.
Peter nods, “And I need to pick up some things for May before dinner tonight.” Peter presses his hand to his ear and rapidly shakes it. Wincing as the pressure and motion to nothing to stop the ringing and tingling in his ear.
“Ok, just text when you get home.”
“You too.” Matt calls out as he finds his way using his cane to catch the sidewalk.
When Peter makes to leave without saying anything you call out to him, “I'm serious Parker, don't make me call May tonight. It'll be that LEGO ship if you do.”
“Ok, yea I'll text when I get home.”
Jake was still ranting to Steven having switched to Spanish when Steven kept ignoring him. Ignoring was the wrong term, the British man seemed more stumped on how to respond to the badgering coming from his normally laid back alter.
You sigh.
“We don't have time t run and grab a booster seat Jake.” you're tired and annoyed and it comes through in your tone.
You miss the way Layla's eyes follow Peter with a questioning frown in place.
Having finally gotten a response from someone Jake hones in on you instead.
“He's too small we need a booster seat.”
“And where do you suppose we go to get one? How would we all get there?” it's clear that if you take into account Jake's concern someone will have to stay behind with Mateo as the rest of the party gets a booster seat.
“There are stores literally everywhere it won't even take thirty minutes.” he bites back.
“Hah, in this city? It'll take thirty minutes just to park, ask Marc.”
Mateo tugs on your hand gaining your attention. You tilt your head at him with a small “Hmm?”
“Papi solo se preocuparse.”
And that's what launched Jake into commanding the body from Steven who was still a bit of a space cadet, unable to follow the alter's or your argument.
“Y buena razón!” Jake gently chides the boy before facing you, his posture straight as he meets you with direct eye contact. “A seat belt won't properly fit him, he'll get hurt if there's an accident.” he stresses to you.
“Ok, I get that, I really really do but what's your solution? You run to the store while we stay out in public,” you lean into whisper, “with a time traveler? The longer we stay out in the open the more risk we're putting Mateo in. We need to think about his safety, Jake.”
“I am thinking about his safety, you want him flying through -”
Mateo lets out a shrill yell.
“Family meeting!”
It's effective in stopping the argument between you and Jake.
You're eye level with your son before you really register what he's just asked for, surprisingly Jake also followed your lead, kneeling at his side.
“What's up?”
“Qué es?”
His little shoulders relax as his eyes dart from your face to Jake's and repeats the motion a few times. Finding his words before he speaks.
Wringing his hands he looks away from Jake, keeping his eyes trained on your own hands resting on your knees.
“Hola papi.” he whispers in the smallest voice.
And still Jake's features grow impossibly soft at the timid greeting, “Hola hijo, ¿qué pasa?” he asks gently.
Biting his lip Mateo looks up at his father once more scuffing his toe into the ground. He hesitantly stretches his arms out to the man. Jake's face is a mixture of confusion and pure shock when it clicks what the boy wants. Gingerly he wraps his arms around him, one arm firmly around his torso and the other coming up to let him cradle the back on his son's head as Mateo roosts into his chest.
With shakey pupils and unsteady breath Jake looks directly into your eyes over Mateo's shoulder. In that instant you both understood you needed to work together for your son's sake.
After Jake released Mateo from the embrace he looked deeply into your eyes and spoke as if he were trying to reach your soul.
“I don't like it but...I'll drive carefully. No middle seat though.” he says with an air of finality as his eyes turn back to their normal confident indifference.
You nod, “I trust you.” and you did.
You'd all made it back to your apartment in one peace; you even shot off texts to Foggy, Peter, and Matt letting them know that you'd made it home safely. You gave everyone free run to make themselves at home in your cozy little one bedroom apartment. Mateo stayed by your side clutching your hand in one of his while his other had Jake firmly planted.
You weren't sure who had the stronger grip on who in the moment.
Layla made her way to the couch and collapsed into it, taking a minute to breathe before straightening up and looking over at the three of you. Her heart clenched a little at the small family before her, a passing thought of a future she and Marc never had – had talked about but hadn't gone further than the what if phase.
She swallows that down, evening out her tone with a heavy exhale, “We gonna talk about this elephant in the room then?”
Mateo turns scanning the part of the room, even standing on his tip toes trying to peer down the hallway.
You choke back the laugh that threatens to spill from your lips, Layla bites back her smile – Jake has no qualms about letting out a small chortle at the child's naivety.
“It's just a saying baby, Auntie Layla just wants to talk about our family.” he doesn't look convinced by your explanation, like there could still be some type of elephant in the room but he'll accept your explanation for now.
You wait for Layla to speak again, knowing she has something on her mind. She takes her time eyes roaming over Mateo who stops his search and beams over to her with a small wave of your conjoined hands.
“Hi, auntie!”
She cracks a small smile despite the clench in her chest and the stinging behind her eyes.
“Hi Mateo, nice to meet you.” it gets a giggle out of the little boy, who bashfully tries to hide behind your legs.
Layla thinks carefully about her words before she asks, “So, Mateo Marc's your dad?”
The way his nose scrunches up and his brows dip down at that question is too cute. You really hadn't thought much about kids in your future, when you did they were just passing thoughts here or there but Mateo is really winning you over.
“No.” he says shaking his head and Jake stiffens next to you as you look from him to his mini me and back. There's no possible way they can't be related.
Jake's thumb flattens his knuckles in a muted cracking but there is no pop only the dull and heavy pressure on his knuckles.
“Steven's my dad. Marc's pops, and Jake is papi.” it's spoken with the conviction only a child could convey. Simple and with no room for argument; each word was spoken as if it were truth and law.
“And what else can you tell us hijo?”
Mateo stops trying to hide behind you when Jake speaks to him, he leans close to his father bumping into his side as he sways back and forth between you two.
“Um...” he mumbles before locking eyes with Jake. He straightens out his posture and says, “I'm seven and this is my first time jump!” his voice is filled with bravado and pride. His grin fades once he remembers something. Turning in on himself his hands slip from your grasps falling limp by his sides, shoulders slumping downwards making him appear smaller as well as downcast eyes stubbornly refuse to look any of you as he mumbles out, “I think...I missed my mark. I wasn't home I was here in zazi's apartment. I was supposed to be home.”
His eyes blink rapidly now.
All of you share a concerned look amongst yourselves at his distress.
“It's gonna be ok Mateo.” you coo rubbing a hand between his shoulders.
He shrinks in on himself even more and dejectedly mutters, “But I messed up twice.”
Messing with the already flattened and misshaped curls on his head you share looks with the other two, hoping they have a helpful suggestion. Layla has a frown set in place obviously concerned about the information while Jake stares at Mateo, man looks seconds away from scooping the poor thing into his arms.
With a sigh you pat your knees standing up and change the subject.
“It's gonna be fine, we'll figure this out. For now...it's almost dinner time, we should call something in – I wasn't expecting company so the shelves are pretty bare. You got any allergies?” nudging Mateo.
He nods, “I can't have dairy or gluten. And it needs to come from a kosher kitchen.”
You look at Jake who gives a confriming nod to your unasked question, before answering Mateo, “We're in New York, it shouldn't be an issue. I'll go get the menus.”
On the way to the kitchen you pull out your phone and text Peter. Jokes are your go to coping mechanism but you aren't sure if anyone in the other room is really ready for that right now. Instead you bother the neighborhood sarcastic comedian.
'You think a Rabi would know if an enby could birth a Jew?”
His reply is instant, 'o yea...meant to ask about that. I can get aunt may to ask next time she runs into rabi ruddenstien'
'home btw' he ends
Shaking your head at his antics you reply, 'Thanks Peter. For everything.'
'np..., Hey you gonna be ok with all this? there's smt strange about the marc guy'
'I know, and I may tell you later...idk I have to ask first.'
It takes him a bit to respond, probably relaying everything to May, 'ok just so you know i heard a certain spider is creeping around sure if you yell he'd hear'
The kid was too sweet for his own good sometimes.
Putting your phone back in your pocket you open the drawer that was home to various miss matched pot holders and a number of menus. Pushing back a glass that was precariously placed at the edge of the counter as you grabbed the menus.
When you get back to the living room you notice Mateo isn't there anymore and Jake is watching the hallway like a hawk.
Spreading the menus out on the coffee table in front of her you sit down next to Layla who's been very quiet this afternoon, “Bathroom?”
She startles a little, “Oh, yeah? I think, honestly I'm not sure he said he had to check on something and ran down that way.”
You relax into the couch with a shrug, there isn't much for Mateo to get into in your apartment so there's no reason for you to be worried. This is the perfect time to kick back a little, there's no time traveling seven year old on the loose and unattended, instead he's tucked safely in your protected apartment. All that's left is to figure out how to send him home.
“Were we thinking dinner then planning or planning over dinner?” you ask her.
She sighs, “This has all been...” casting a glance down the hallway and at Jake over by the window, “a lot to take in. Maybe we just...I dunno rest and pick back up in the morning?”
“It's your call Layla, I knew how deep this water was. I've already given Marc an out; y'know for helping with the whole sending Mateo back but now-” you motion towards the newly installed sentry in your apartment and she gives a slow understanding now – the system was unlikely to leave now knowing just how connected they were to this mission. “Seriously, if you wanted to call it quits right now I wouldn't blame you – or stop you for that matter. You've done more than enough, which...thank you by the way.”
There's a sad glimmer in her eyes as she looks at you. She makes her decision in that moment.
“No, no I'm staying.” her tone was firm and there was a small fire in her eyes. “They're my friends and you are too now. So, I'm helping. For the long run, I'm helping.”
You give her a smile hoping it communicates just how grateful you are for her help. While you would've easily let them all leave you wouldn't know the first place to start when it came to sending a time traveler back home to his time.
“Mateo, come here we're ordering dinner.” you call out down the hall.
It isn't long before curly haired boy comes rushing out of your room holding a jar with Coo following after him.
Layla's eyes widen and a comically large frown is set on her face, “Oh...I don't know what I was expecting...I mean I know they all said you had a pigeon but...wow.”
Her shock was actually the best reaction you'd had to someone meeting Coo, most people tended to freak out thinking he was a wild pigeon or given his scarring from abuse thought he was a mean bird.
You shrug off her comment as Coo excitedly flys up to your shoulder to perch and greet you. “Hey buddy, been good? Kept the house spider free?” you joke with him as you give him scritches.
Layla gestures to the jar in Mateo's hands, “Whatcha got there?”
The young boy holds out what you recognize as one of your home's many protection jars, despite it's sludgey appearance. You'd never had one of your jars turn out like this; sure they sometimes caught nasty energies and would rot one or two ingredients but never had they developed what can only be described as a tar like dark liquid – clinging and staining the sides of the jar at every little movement.
“Khonshu's mad.” you aren't sure what the flash of fear that spiked through you was from. The dead serious tone of a child giving a cryptic message or the fact that he was certain the jar was a result of his father's patron.
Very calmly you kneel to his level and take the jar from him, “Right, so yea...we'll talk to him later. Right now we're going to relax and have dinner alright?” he gives you a nod and you try to send your best reassuring smile in spite of the loud forceful beating of your heart.
When he beams back up at you you gently pet the top of his head, careful of his still formed curls. Standing back up you speak to Jake and Layla, “I'm gonna go ahead and...dispose of this, you guys pick something and I'll order when I get back I shouldn't be long.”
Mateo quickly takes your spot next to Layla taking two menus and scanning their offered items. Jake catches your gaze, eyes dipping down to look at the jar in your hands with a sneer. Jake moves from the window to be closer to the couch looking over the boy's shoulder, Mateo notices and leans closer to his papi to share the menu.
Kid had the man wrapped around his little finger and everyone in the room knew it.
Your ride up to the roof felt more a kin to a death march, as you made your way to the lovely community garden. Hawkeye had bought out the buildings on this block a while after the first snap. Not only did it help tenants in the area recover but it rebuilt the community by helping everyone pull in their resources without having to worry about rent. Even after the second snap it was a community that welcomed you with open arms. At the next community meeting you were actually going to open a petition for a bee hive or two to help improve pollination of the garden up here; it's also be a way to source local honey and wax for projects for kids at the library.
But that isn't what you were up here for – now you're using this garden as a way to take care of the gross sludge in a jar Khonshu had supposedly left for you. Taking a trowel you break the seal of the jar and pour a bit of soil from the garden in to it before you reseal it. Taking care to surround it with a small force field preventing anything from leaking out and spreading through the neighborhood. You set the intention to have the dirt purify the contents before you tuck the jar away to be brought out later when it isn't a nasty ball of negativity and hate just waiting to seep into someone's life.
“You have my sincere apologies, little witch.” the sudden voice has you jolting, hands nearly dropping the glass jar.
“Christ!”
“Not quite.” he muses “I am surprised that you've found the traveler so quickly...given your many follies.”
Another voice is quick to break through the peaceful dusk skyline, “Khonshu.” Jake's warning comes out as a growl towards his patron god.
The deity bristles under the hidden accusation, “Oh please, spare me your chivalrous act Lockley. Tell me if it hadn't been so obvious that the traveler was yours would you be this protective over the witchling? To think my own Moon Knight is to spawn what is sure to be a constant thorn in my side. This has the worm's influence all over it – the impudence, done to spite me no doubt.”
“I have no idea what tangent you're on about. But yes, we've found Mateo. He's safe and accounted for; now all we have to do is figure out how to send him home.”
Khonshu has stepped closer to you now, “And yet you intend to play house for the evening now that he's been located, rather than let me send him back this very instant by myself?”
Though he poses it as a question it's more of a critique.
“We agreed that-”
“No, I did not agree. We did however, make a deal...an arrangement one I plan on keeping. But know this witchling,” he takes another step towards you and Jake moves to step in between you, “do not test me by keeping the child here longer than it takes. I will send him back regardless...if need be.”
Inhaling deeply you steady your tone and inflection before speaking.
“All due respect Lord Khonshu,” you stress, “Mateo is seven. He hasn't seen his family in days. He has a right to be overwhelmed and volatile. On top of that your Moon Knights have just found out they have a future son. I think everyone would benefit from a few hours to process and relax. I mean unless you'd rather us feeble mortals push through the exhaustion and emotional duress potentially leading to a much bigger timeline mishap if Mateo misses his next stop. We don't know how accurate his jumps are and from the sound of it he'd been prepared and prepped for the first jump that landed him here.”
Your head is tilted to meet Khonshu's eye sockets head on, he tilts his head further up leaving his beak in your line of sight.
“I pray you never meet a pettier god, my work will be cut out for me if you do. That tongue of yours could stand to remain still.”
Looking between you and Jake the god can't help but huff. Not even fully together and already you were getting on his nerves.
“Fine, I shall leave until morning. The second the moon sets we will be discussing this further.”
“Hold up!” Jake calls out halting the god in his attempt to leave.
Once he has the moon god's attention he asks, “Why give them the ability to see us – the reflections what purpose does that serve?”
Khonshu's posture is lax as he leisurely looks towards you, “You're mistaken Jake Lockley, I had nothing to do with that. The witchling is just coming into their powers now that they aren't stomping them down.”
Before either of you can ask him anything else a sharp gust of wind blows through taking Khonshu with it. Looking at each other you and Jake are left with a lot more questions than you'd started with.
The ride back down to the apartment seemed longer than the ride up to the gardens. Jake had given you the heads up that Mateo had picked out something he swore you'd love and so Jake went ahead and ordered the food. You still had about fifteen minutes left for the delivery to get there.
You thanked him and asked how much it was so you could pay him back.
Instead he changed the subject, “Mateo's a good name.” he compliments.
“Thanks, I've never been one to think about my future or the possibility of kids...but Mateo was just one name I'd throw around a bit. And – well when I saw him it was like I just knew it was meant for him.”
Jake nods, thumb rubbing the underside of his index finger.
“It suits him...and it doesn't sound too bad with our last names: Mateo Lockley, Mateo Grant, Mateo Spector.” he lists.
You find yourself staring at him with your lips pursed to the side, “You...each have different last names? Wait – sorry is that rude, I just hadn't given it much thought before so it's a bit surprising to hear.”
“It's fine. Not like it changes anything...but it may be difficult for you to choose which to take later.” he looks away with a shrug.
At first you thought one of the other men were in the reflective bit of the metal but when your gaze hit the wall it's only Jake's reflection staring back at you.
You hum out, “You mean if we all got married? I could just keep my name y'know.” you grin and look towards the man instead of the reflection as he turns to face you again.
He looks at you, brows furrowed and for a second you think it's Marc with his stone stern features, “What'd ya mean 'if'? Like we're just gonna knock ya up and be done with it?”
He seems offended by the mere thought, while you just let the comment roll off like water.
“Not everyone who have children together are married.”
Sparing a glance at your phone you do some quick calculations.
“That aside. Jake, we've only known each other for thirty-seven hours – give or take. We've just found out that we will have a child together sometime in the undisclosed future, who has special abilities. I ...we don't have to rush anything ok? We have time to figure this all out. Don't force yourself into some role just for Mateo's or my sake. If it's meant to be it will be.”
The doors open and you make your exit, Jake following behind. Before you can get too far he grabs at your wrist, holding you in place. It's not tight or suffocating and if you're honest with yourself you should have expected this level of romantic comedy drama from a man who so intensely watched Twilight on the plane last night. So, you weren't shocked that it happened, just another movie trop you can cross off the bucket list right up there with having a shitty day and getting splashed with rainwater from a truck speeding past.
“It's not forced...I want this – I want a family.”
Looking into his brown eyes all you see is truth but also a wave of uncertainty as though he's afraid of the rejection of his confession. You're in trouble in your future, those eyes all but seal it for you. All it'd take is just one glance at those captivating windows and you'd fold faster than a lawn chair, and given the exact replica just down the hall you can just about imagine how much you cave into your boys' demands.
“You are such a dork.” you say it so lightly and with a breathy laugh that Jake almost didn't hear it. Almost. His heart had skipped a best when he heard it.
“At the end of the day I guess you'll be my dork though. But again we have time.” you stress each word in your last sentence as you grab his other hand with yours rubbing a thumb along his torn up knuckles.
“We'll figure things out Jake. For tonight let's go try and relax. Be there for our son.”
Jake couldn't deny the tingling sparks he felt all over when you uttered the words 'our son', even if he wanted to he just couldn't. Jake Lockley never thought he or either of the other alters would ever be in this position but now he knows that they all get a chance at the domestic life: caring, loving spouse by their side rearing a well adjusted child who saw each man as a father. He may not know anything about you aside from being a witch with a somewhat auspicious past – if your friends were anything to go off of. But even at your worst you probably weren't as bad as he himself was. The hands you held onto so firmly yet so gently have killed people; just torn into their bodies and soaked in their blood or strangled the life out of them.
These hands of his didn't deserve to have soothing circles rubbed into them, or the feather light touches that caressed their callouses, they didn't deserve the delicate hold you had or the slight swaying of you swinging them. Jake Lockley was a bad man, not an evil one he'd just done a lot of nasty things in his life and in Marc's. But he's never been a selfish man – always put the system above himself personally...until he saw Mateo with his own eyes. Heard the boy call him 'papi'. Jake wanted to be selfish now, despite Marc's shutdown – the eerie silence triggering a meltdown for Steven – Jake wanted this. He wanted to have this nice loving family that he should have gotten as a child. Hell there was a reason you two had a child in the future so why not be selfish and find out.
He may not have known anything about you, but he was sure he could love you.
“You're right, there's no rush.” he returns the gentle grip on your hands bringing them up to his face to plant a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles. It may have been just a small thank you but the way your breath hitched and your pupils dialated left him smirking. He could slow down to enjoy this, enjoy these moments – ultimately it didn't matter how long it took to get together because there was proof sitting on the floor of your apartment. Jake could be selfish and he'd get to have his family.
Closing his eyes he savors the moment nonetheless, releasing your hands with a deep exhale he turns serious once more, like he was just outside of the library earlier today.
“We're all sleeping in the living room, your apartment has too many weak points to keep track of.”
Rolling your eyes in spite of the soft smile on your face, “Mateo's right, you do worry too much.”
You two were just beginning to walk again when the elevator dinged and a delivery girl from the Shwarma place stepped out. You weren't a regular on her deliveries but she lived in the building so she knew you by sight.
“Hey got your order right here, havin' a party tonight?”
“Thanks Cayenne, no 've got family over.” patting yourself down you come to find your wallet isn't n you.
Before you can ask her to follow you to your apartment the man beside you steps in, tipping the woman and attempting to take the bags.
Cayenne looks back at you confused, once you nod she takes the tip and hands the bags right over.
“See you around.” she calls already waiting on the elevator.
“Have a good shift!”
Getting through the door you turn to Jake fumbling with the bags.
“Thanks for reminding me, so how much do I owe you for dinner Jake?”
The man freezes and his eyes dart to the side as he bites his lips. It's what makes you notice the change in posture, how he seems shorter than he was back in the hallway.
“Oh! Sorry, hey there Steven.”
Steven's chest puffs out a bit and his head stans a little higher when you correct yourself. Heart racing at the thought of you being able to tell them apart already, to see them differently even without speaking. He pushes down the insulting quip about it only being because of how pathetic he must be compared to how calm and sauve Jake had been with you. Meanwhile he couldn't even juggle the take away properly.
“No worries mate.” voice cracking up a bit as he attempts to be causual.
He coughs then searches for a place to put the bags down. With soft eyes and a softer smile playing at your face you sigh, watching the man awkwardly shuffle his way through your entry way.
“You can just put those down on the coffee table Steven, we'll do family style tonight. I'll be right there, just need to grab plates.”
Coming back out to the table with plates and drinks for everyone you notice Mateo going through your DvD collection.
“We told him we'd watch a movie after dinner, that's alright right?” Steven asked you with a frown that had him biting his lip just the smallest fraction.
Checking the time you frown a little yourself, “Maybe not after dinner, we could watch it while we eat. It's just, it's nearly sic and I'd just about bet someone's bedtime is eight thirty at the latest.”
It's difficult to lie when three sets of eyes catch him jump at being found out. At least Mateo had the decency to send an apologetic look Steven's way.
“Cheeky.” he mutters staring his son down, one of the things that stands out to him is Mateo has the same charmingly disarming smile Marc does. The smile that's reserved for joking with the elderly women in the park on his morning jogs or sent Steven's way when he gets the brunt of a prank meant for Jake.
Steven's face goes from annoyed and impressed to sheepish and sullen when he switches his attention from Mateo to you.
“Sorry, I hadn't even thought-”
Holding a hand up to the brit, “It's fine Steven, we haven't talked about this. But I know basic child development, and if I'm gonna be strict about anything it'll be bedtimes.” honing in on Mateo, “You sir already have a predisposition towards sleeping disorders, we don't need to go agitating any hereditary insomnia just yet.”
“Yes zazi, I know.” he turns his back to you and continues his search it looks like he has a specific movie in mind. Just before you can ask he lifts a box straight into the air high above his head.
“Oh what'd he pick?” Layla asks pausing her task of setting out the food.
“Night at the Museum.” you say confidently not even taking a second glance as you help her finish, you'd know that box anywhere.
Mateo nods handing the DvD to Steven to set up, “It's really good for it's age-”
“Watch it.” you warn.
He giggles as he whispers up to Steven, “plus zazi has a crush on Ahkmenrah.”
Steven bristles a little at that, not quite sure how he should feel about his future spouse crushing on another man. He knows it's silly and irrational but you aren't even together and it feels like he doesn't have a complete chance with you.
Layla raises an eyebrow at you to which you make a face in confusion, not like you have any idea what the two were whispering about.
After helping Steven set up the movie you all fell into a nice little repreive. It was kind of surreal how familiar watching a movie and eating dinner felt with the three new additions in your life. Mateo and Layla each even took turns ripping up falafel to feed Coo. The evening was filled with laughter and Steven's quips about the awful Egyptian lore. Everyting felt so domestic and it made you miss your family. You hadn't thought about them since just after everyone was snapped back. It stung a bit but looking around your coffee table you decided that if this was your new family it seemed like a pretty great one. You just hoped you could talk to Marc soon, he's the only one who hasn't offically met Mateo. To say ir worried you would be a massive understatement.
The movie is just at it's climax where Nick and Larry are trapped with Ahkmenrah, “Oh lovely fent he is innt he?” Steven snorts.
His sarcastic mumbling had you choke on your drink, not expecting that from the soft spoken clerk. But you wait and watch as the wrappings on the mummy unwind to reveal Rami Malek's gorgeous face.
“Oh very lovely.” Layla says with approval at Rami on the screen while sipping on her drink.
Steven just scowls a bit, pouting at the attention the actor is getting from the two of you. Through the reflection in the picture frame next to him you see Jake's face also screwed up in distaste. Or you assume it's Jake.
“It's probably just the accent.” you joke grabbing Steven's hand under the table.
The other two are none the wiser about the hand holding and you focus on the screen as Steven and possibly Jake stare at you in a mixture of emotion. A whirlwind so complex they aren't even really sure what they're feeling. Either way Steven relaxes.
“A lil' on the posh side though.” he jokes.
“Yea...probably a Chelsea fan.” that comment earns you a delightful chuckle from the man.
And you all finish the movie in peace. Once it's over Layla and Steven take charge of cleaning the table off as you and Mateo set the living room up for a sleepover. It's a mad dash through the apartment, grabbing all available pillows and blankets – it's either gonna be a nest or a pillow fort tonight or both.
In honor of April being Autism Awareness Acceptance month, I’ll be creating 30 different SFW reader insert pieces for BNHA, AOT, and JJK that are all autism centric. These will include head cannons, short dribbles, a fic or two, and maybe even some art!
Requests for this event are OPEN, and will be until April 30, 2021.
When submitting an ask, please specify if you’re looking for a head cannon or drabble. Additionally, please use identity first language (autistic person, NOT person with autism) when submitting requests. You can find info on why identity first language is important, here.
LASTLY I am using these posts for education purposes, so if you have some extra cash, please consider donating to any of these organizations and NOT autism speaks! Even using hashtags like #lightitupred and #nothingaboutuswithoutus can be helpful in spreading information!
If you would like to be added to the taglist for this event, please send me an ask or message!
