Ten Days Until The Release Of The Martin Scorsese Directed Film, Killers Of The Flower Moon, Starring

Ten days until the release of the Martin Scorsese directed film, Killers Of The Flower Moon, starring Lily Gladstone. If you haven't learned about the history of the Osage Nation, read up and discover their past, present, and future.

Watching Cruella is the plan for tonight. Have a lot of work this week, so this will put me in the proper frame of mind don't you think?!

I want to make art... and I want to make trouble. Are you in?

Content/reblogs this week will be spotty except for what was already scheduled. Be kind to one another and savor the seconds, the minutes, the hours of your uniqueness.

Alright, alright, alright!

*Rubs hands together excitedly*

I read this late last night but saved commenting so thoughts could percolate a little bit along with the morning java. Going to be long so here's the TLDR for those who hate lengthy essays:

READ THIS ENTIRE FIC, YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

It's got everything promised so far and this chapter delivered better than a box from Mendl's bakery (the iconic bakery from The Grand Budapest Hotel just in case readers haven't seen the film)

Here is the remaining commentary below a cut (for spoilers) and also length:

*Paces floor, muttering: where to start, where to start*

Sooo tempted to begin with the food but I'm going with the relationship because that is, after all, the main course. And what a course it is! The delectable Chef Matt giving off quite the show for Reader in the intimate confines of Fogwell's and they're all alone too. Not for nothing was I hearing Joe Jonas singing in the background, "...let's start living dangerously..." when all that cake was right there. RIGHT. THERE. Just a little squeeze Reader, try it go on...but no...she just thinks it. Great line btw, still giggling over the quarter.

Then again, when Reader reacts instinctively and thinks less, everything just flows. The hug of reassurance was quite sweet. Not sure I would have been brave enough for that, but that is my personality talking and I'm quite tickled that it was just the natural thing to do when observing someone reveal a deeper side of them.

Ditto for the scene where Reader is attempting to gain Matt's perspective and tries the punching bag. Very nicely done.

Now, let's talk about their footwork. Boxing? No! The verbal sparring and the mental dancing around the two of them keep doing. OH MY LORD. It's half adorable half tearing my hair out and half 'just bang already'-little Crazy Stupid Love ref there-Wait, that's three halves, so maybe it's a sum of the parts expression. Anyway, I loved it. "You think I'm cool?" Yeah, Matt, she does. And then not two minutes later Reader is right back to heart on the floor with "it's just a thank you" as she mentally tries to scrape it together with a dustpan. Matt is not helping matters either, thank you very much AUTHOR. (Not really scolding you, I"m smirking at you if you can't read tone in text.) All in all, I could write about the apartment scene for four more paragraphs but I cannot hold off any longer. I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THE FOOD.

OH MY LORD. (for the second time no less). The food. Final four right there. National championship material. You had me at basil, but the guanciale mention...oh the savory seduction of guanciale. Sweatergawd, that stuff is amazing. I can understand why Matt used the pancetta though. I once grabbed a bestie for a road trip because the closest place I could buy guanciale w/o online ordering is two hours away. So, pancetta is what I use most often too.

But how she wasn't just simply 'take me I'm yours' after THAT meal is sheer torture for us readers AND YOU KNOW IT. It's raining, they've eaten a lovely meal, shared some wine, and THEY END WITH A HUG. Now, never mind Reader, you could scrape ME off the floor with a dustpan because that left me just weak from exhaustion. Matt better pour on the charm like melted butter because this reader wants to get served I'm telling you. I don't know what you have up your sleeve for the next chapter, but I've got my nose pressed to the glass window by the light of that neon sign waiting for these two knuckleheads to get out of their headspace and just react to what they feel.

I'm going to stop here, but well done all around. I love this series!

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 7

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here 

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, pining... so much pining

Word Count: ~3800

A/N: As promised, here's the 2nd half of Chef Matt & Reader's Sunday afternoon together! Enjoy!

And thank you as always to @theradioactivespidergwen for the super cute divider she made for me!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

Where the hell are we going? you wondered as you and Matt headed away from Clinton Church. 

It wasn't like you weren't afraid he was taking you off somewhere to murder you -- you truly did feel safe with Matt and hadn't been lying when you had said that you trusted him. "Any hint as to where we're going?"

Matt shook his head. "I know it sounds weird, but I'd rather just show you, if that's okay?"

You nodded. It seemed important to Matt that your destination remain a mystery, so you decided not to push. "Okay."

You continued walking past various shops and storefronts until finally Matt stopped. "Okay, we're here."

You peered at the faded letters on the door. 

Fogwell's Gym

You remembered Matt saying that he frequently worked out after service, but couldn't quite understand what was so special about the location that required the need for secrecy. Well, at least that explains the gym bag.

Matt pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door before stepping inside. "Come on in."

You followed him into the darkened gym and waited as he turned the lights on before looking around.

Cubbyholes lined the wall to the left of the door while several punching bags hung to the right. A large boxing ring was situated in the middle of the room, with wooden steps leading up to it. 

Matt gestured towards what you assumed was the locker room. "I'm going to go get changed into my workout clothes. Be right back."

You nodded. "Okay."

While Matt was in the locker room, you took the opportunity to look at the flyers advertising various past boxing matches tacked to the wall. Johnson vs Lewis, Conway vs Roberts, Creel vs Murdock…

You sucked in a breath, reaching out to touch the poster. Creel vs Murdock. Now it makes sense.

You heard Matt come out of the locker room and set his bag down. 

"This is where your dad trained, isn't it?" you asked, your eyes still on the poster.

You heard Matt sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

You turned towards him and froze. As handsome as he was while wearing his chef's coat and black slacks or a t-shirt and jeans, he was even more gorgeous in a black tank top, gray sweatpants, and tennis shoes.

Your gaze drifted up to his face. His glasses were gone, revealing beautiful hazel eyes that were fixed in your direction. 

Matt must've felt you staring at him, because he ducked his head and began rummaging through his gym bag. "I, uh, I started coming here back when I was in culinary school," he explained. "I was struggling during my first semester and thinking about dropping out, so I came to the one place I knew where I would feel close to my dad to see if I could figure out what he would say."

He took out a small bundle of what looked like Ace bandages and began to wrap his hands. "I was having a particularly bad day that day -- there was this one professor who had been giving me a hard time about my need for certain accommodations -- so I began to take my frustration out on a punching bag."

You had found when people started to open up it was better to just let them keep talking rather than interrupt with questions, so you remained silent.

"With each punch I could hear my dad telling me that he was proud of me," Matt continued as he finished wrapping one hand and started on the other. "And that Murdocks never give up no matter how hard things get. So I decided to stay in culinary school and work my ass off to prove that I have what it takes to be a great chef and make my dad proud of me."

Before you could second-guess yourself, you walked over to Matt and wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

You thought for a split second that you might have crossed a line, but before you could let go and apologize Matt relaxed into your embrace, circling his arms around you and tucking his face into your neck.

You held him briefly, then let go and stepped back. 

Matt began to redo the wrap that he had begun, keeping his face turned downward. "I've, uh, I've never actually told anybody about that before. Not even Foggy."

Your heart constricted. You couldn't even begin to imagine the hardship that Matt must have had to go through in order to prove himself as a chef. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Matt paused. "I don't suppose I can ask you to keep that off the record, can I?"

You nodded. "I will, if that's what you want. It'll stay just between us."

Matt huffed out a breath. "Thank you."

You sat on the bench as Matt moved in front of the punching bag. "So, I suppose you're going to show me some moves, huh?"

Matt chuckled. "If you'd like."

You watched as Matt did a few stretches, appreciating the way his biceps flexed as he moved. And if your eyes drifted southward, well… you were only human. Cake, indeed. One could bounce a quarter off of that ass.

Your eyes snapped back to Matt's face, which bore a small smirk. 

He reached out and touched the punching bag, found the center, then adjusted his stance, raising his fists in front of his face.

You watched in fascination as he skillfully maneuvered his way around the bag, landing punches as if he was squaring off against one of the greatest fighters of all time. He certainly doesn't fight like a blind man.

Finally he paused, chest heaving.

He steadied the punching bag. "Would you mind handing me that towel, please?"

You resisted the urge to lick the sweat off of his neck. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

You handed the towel to him. "So are you sure you haven't had professional training?"

Matt grinned as he wiped his face and neck down with the towel. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He draped the towel around his neck and picked up his gym bag. "I'm going to go take a quick shower and change, but I'll be back in a minute, if that's okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, of course."

While you waited for him to return you checked your phone for messages, replying to an email from an artist you had featured a few weeks prior thanking you for your article.

You put your phone away and stood, glancing briefly over at the entrance to the locker room before walking in front of the punching bag.

You closed your eyes, curled your right hand into a fist, and swung, missing the bag completely. 

You opened your eyes, frowning. Maybe I wasn't close enough.

You moved a bit closer, then closed your eyes again.

You swung at the bag, this time barely connecting.

"...Your stance is off."

You gasped and whirled around, a hand flying over your chest. "Jesus, Matt, you scared me."

Matt stood next to the boxing ring, this time dressed in a dark blue t-shirt that clearly showed off his muscles and dark blue sweatpants.

He smiled softly at you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

You shook your head, trying to calm your racing heart. "It's alright. I was just… um… just…"

"Trying to figure out how a blind man can hit a punching bag so easily?" Matt nodded in understanding. "I probably should have told you, but I'm not actually completely blind."

"Oh," you replied, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed…"

Matt shook his head. "It's okay. The chemicals that got into my eyes basically fried my synapses, so whatever is directly in front of me looks like a black mass and the rest of my line of vision is what I can best describe as a 'world on fire'."

He tapped the side of his glasses, which you had belatedly realized were back on his face. "The red lenses help neutralize that part."

You huffed out a light laugh. "And here I thought you just wore them because they made you look cool."

Matt grinned. "You think they make me look cool?"

More like slightly mysterious and incredibly hot. Your face heated slightly. "Eh, maybe a little."

Matt shook his head with a chuckle. "Ready to head out?"

You nodded. "Mmhmm."

Matt gestured towards the door. "After you."

"So, where to next?" you asked as the two of you headed outside.

Matt shook his head. "Actually, that was my last errand." 

"Oh." You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that you had to go your separate ways. "Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." Matt bit his lip. "Um, that is… unless you'd like to have dinner with me tonight? My place? My apartment's not too far from here."

You nodded, unable to keep a smile off of your face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd actually really like that."

Matt unfolded his cane. "Great!  I mean, it's the least I could do after you helped me out this afternoon at the soup kitchen."

Your heart sank slightly. Of course he meant it as a thank-you, how else would he have meant it? "Oh. Um, it was no problem. I was happy to help."

Matt turned the opposite of the way you were facing. "This way, then."

As you headed down the street, you couldn't help but entertain the thought of Matt having invited you over for dinner not because he felt obligated to as a thank-you, but because he hadn't been ready for your time together to end either.

You mentally shook your head. It's just as a thank-you for helping him out at the church, that's it.

…You just wished it hadn't been.

Why the hell did I say that? Matt thought to himself as the two of you walked towards his apartment. He'd had every intention of asking you to have dinner with him as a (sort-of) date, but the second you had said yes he had second-guessed himself and blurted out the bit about it being as a thank-you for helping him out at Clinton Church. 

He mentally shook his head as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk. Maybe I can fix this.

Before he could say anything, you cleared your throat. "You know, I'm sure you're tired and I don't want to be an inconvenience, so I actually think I'll just head ho--"

"No!" Matt shook his head. "I mean, no, it's not an inconvenience. I was going to make something to eat when I got home anyway, so it's not a problem to make an extra serving."

He inwardly cringed. Way to make things worse. "Actually, what I meant was that I've really enjoyed your company today and would like to have dinner with you."

He could feel you relax. "I've enjoyed your company today too," you admitted softly. "If you're sure it's not a big deal…"

Matt nodded. "I'm sure."

"Then okay. I'd love to have dinner with you."

Matt smiled in relief. "Great. And actually now that I think about it, I do have one more stop before we get back to my apartment. I need to harvest some herbs from my plot at the community garden, but it'll only take a minute."

"Okay."

The two of you continued on as the crosswalk signal beeped and changed to walk .

"So what kind of herbs do you grow?" you asked.

"All sorts of culinary varieties," Matt replied. "Rosemary, thyme, basil, lavender, and mint."

"Oh, cool."

Matt nodded. "Unfortunately I have to outsource my herbs for the restaurant since I don't have the space to grow the amount that we would need, but this works for my own personal use."

He slowed as you reached the garden. "Welcome to the Hell's Kitchen Community Garden."

"Oh wow," you said. "I never even knew this was here."

Matt led you down the center path then to the right, following along the fence line to his plot in the back corner. "It hasn't been here too terribly long, maybe six months or so."

"And you said Claire from the farmer's market runs it?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah. She petitioned the council to turn the property into a community space and keeps track of who has which plot and everything."

You hummed. "I might have to talk to my boss about covering the community garden for the paper too. This is really neat."

"That would be great. It definitely would raise more awareness and hopefully bring more funding for upkeep." Matt stopped in front of his plot. "This is mine."

He knelt down and felt his basil plants before picking a few leaves and placing them into a small storage container he kept in the side pocket of his gym bag. "All set."

He led you back out of the garden and down the street towards his apartment building, frowning at the distant rumble of thunder. Well, there goes my plan to have dinner on the roof. "Sounds like it's about to rain."

"Yeah, it does seem like it's getting a bit cloudy," you replied. "Is your place much farther?"

Matt shook his head. "No, it's just up ahead."

"Oh, okay."

You walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

"Okay, here we are," Matt said as you reached his apartment building.

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, the sound of rain beginning to fall as the elevator began to ascend. "Sounds like we made it just in time." 

"Yeah, thank goodness," you replied. "I wasn't expecting it to rain so I didn't bring my umbrella with me."

You can always just stay the night… Matt shook his head. "I have one you can borrow if you need to, or I can call you a cab if it's still raining hard when you leave later."

He took his keys out of his pocket as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. "This way."

He led you down the hall to his apartment and unlocked the door, then opened it and ushered you inside as another roll of thunder rumbled overhead.

He closed the door and dropped his keys into the bowl on the side table in the entryway before folding up his cane and setting it next to the bowl. "Come on in."

He tried to ignore his sudden nervousness. It had been a long time since he'd had someone who wasn't Foggy or Karen in his personal space and hoped you wouldn't judge how barren his apartment was.

He turned on the lights then headed to his refrigerator. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, um, sure," you replied. "Whatever you're having is fine."

He heard you walk over to the large window in his living area as he pulled out 2 bottles of beer along with a block of pecorino cheese and some pancetta. He had gotten an incredible deal on his apartment because of the gigantic neon sign that was situated on the roof of the neighboring building, so he was sure that was what you were looking at.

He quickly washed the fresh basil he had picked and patted it dry, then set the cheese and pancetta down on the kitchen island before popping the tops off of the bottles and walking over to you. "Here you go."

Your fingers brushed his as he handed you the bottle, a now-familiar tingle coursing through Matt's veins. "Thank you."

Matt swallowed and took a sip of his beer. "Quite the view, huh?" he said, gesturing out the window.

You huffed out a laugh. "It's very, um… picturesque."

Matt shook his head with a grin. "Funny, that's exactly how the real estate agent that sold me this place described it." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a feeling she might not've been telling me the truth though." 

You laughed again. "Okay, it is a bit obnoxious."

Matt chuckled. "I really do keep meaning to get some blackout curtains, but since it's just me it's never really been a bother."

You hummed. "I honestly don't mind it. It gives your apartment an interesting glow."

Matt could imagine the two of you together on his sofa, the glow of the billboard the only light in the darkened room as he gently caressed your cheek, your lips inches from his own--

He mentally shook his head and gestured to his kitchen island. "Have a seat and I'll get started on dinner."

He heard you sit as he began to gather the rest of the ingredients, placing the eggs he had taken out of his refrigerator that morning into a bowl and setting it on the island before washing his hands and filling a pot about halfway with water.

He set the pot on the stove and seasoned it with some salt, then turned the burner on high to let the water boil.

He crossed back to the island and roughly chopped the fresh basil he had picked, then quickly whisked together 3 egg yolks and an entire egg before grating a generous amount of cheese into the mixture, giving it an additional stir before setting it aside.

He could feel you quietly watching him as he unwrapped the pancetta and began cutting it into small cubes, unable to help but wonder what you were thinking. You'd had the same focus the day before when he had made your crepes, but you had been recording your conversation then and had asked questions about his culinary process. This felt… different. More personal, like you were deep in thought.

He cleared his throat. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"What?" You startled slightly. "Oh, sorry, it's nothing. Just trying to figure out what we're having for dinner."

You were lying to him, but Matt couldn't figure out exactly why or what about. "Oh, I'm making spaghetti carbonara. It's traditionally made with guanciale, but my supplier was out, so pancetta will have to suffice for today."

"Your supplier… Oh, right, Frank, wasn't it?"

Matt shook his head then moved back to the stove, dropping the spaghetti into the pot of boiling water before moving the pancetta to the pan. "He doesn't do cured meats. I get those and other specialty items from Nelson's Meats."

You made a curious sound. "Nelson… as in Chef Nelson?"

Matt nodded as he stirred the pancetta around. "Foggy's family owns it. Best capicola in the tri-state area."

He finished cooking the pancetta and turned the skillet off, then scooped some of the pasta water into a measuring cup before draining the pasta and adding it to the pancetta. "Dinner's almost ready if you want to move to the table."

"Okay."

As you moved to Matt's dining table, he gave the egg mixture another stir before pouring it into the pan, adding a bit of the pasta water and using tongs to mix it all together.

Once it was a perfectly smooth consistency, he added some freshly-ground black pepper and separated it into two bowls before adding an extra sprinkle of cheese and some chopped basil on top of each serving. 

He placed a fork in each bowl, then brought them over to you, setting yours in front of you and his in front of his spot across from you. "Dinner is served."

You gave a slight gasp. "Oh my goodness, Matt, this looks amazing."

"Thanks." Matt quickly grabbed two wine glasses and gave them a quick rinse before taking a bottle of Pinot Gris out of his refrigerator and pouring you each a glass. 

He set your glass down before sitting across from you. "The beer we were drinking doesn't really go with carbonara so I've selected a wine pairing, if that's alright?"

You gave a hum of affirmation. "Of course it's alright."

Matt nodded. "Okay, well, enjoy."

He waited nervously as you took a bite.

You let out a pleased sound. "Oh my goodness, this is so good."

Matt grinned in relief. "Yeah?"

"Yes, absolutely. Everything you've made for me so far has been amazing." 

"I'm glad." Matt took a bite of his own carbonara, the silky smoothness of the sauce pairing perfectly with the crispy pancetta and al dente noodles. "It's not quite traditional carbonara but it's very close."

"Right, you said it's traditionally made with guanciale."

Matt nodded. "And no herbs are usually added, but I like the flavor a bit of fresh basil adds to the dish."

"Mmm. Mmhmm. Yeah, I like it too."

You both continued eating and once you were done, Matt stood. "Here, I'll get this for you."

"Thanks."

"I'm afraid I don't have any dessert prepared, but would you like another glass of wine?"

"Yeah, I'd love one."

Matt grabbed the bottle of Pinot Gris and refilled your glasses. "Care to go sit on the couch?"

"Sure."

You took a sip of wine as the two of you sat together on Matt's sofa. "I really like your apartment, by the way. It suits you."

Matt shook his head with a small smile. "It's not much, but it's home."

You huffed out a laugh. "It's not what I originally expected, but to be honest, neither were you."

"Oh?" Matt turned towards you. "And what did you expect?"

"About you or your apartment?"

"Mmm, both, I suppose."

"Well, had I based my idea of what your apartment would be like on my first impression of you it would've been cold and industrial with no heart."

Matt winced. "Ouch."

"However, having gotten to know you over the past few days I would say warm and inviting with a certain charm."

A smile spread across Matt's face. "You think I'm charming?"

"Your apartment? Very. You? Maybe a tiny bit."

Matt smirked at the teasing tone in your voice. "A tiny bit? I guess I'll just have to work harder on charming you then."

You let out a light laugh. "No need, I'll send you a copy of my article before publication anyway."

"Okay, thanks." Although that's not the reason I want to charm you.

You finished your glass of wine. "And speaking of my article, I should probably get going -- I have to be at the Bulletin early tomorrow for our weekly staff meeting."

Matt nodded and stood. "Here, I'll walk you out."

"Thanks for inviting me along today," you said softly as you reached the door. "I had a really great time." 

Matt nodded, unable to keep a smile off of his face. "I did too."

"I'll see you tomorrow evening?"

Matt nodded again. "Six o'clock?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect."

"Okay, great."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer. Finally you reached out and gave Matt a brief hug. "Goodnight, Matt."

Matt hugged you back, committing what he could of you to memory. "Goodnight."

He waited as you let yourself out, an idea forming in his mind.

…He just hoped he was able to pull it off.

Thank you so much for answering the loooong ask! (You did say we could ask, so, I always have Qs for writers)

I liked that you used your favorite flower in the stories. You see, it's these little touches that make things memorable and also, personal. I think that is important, especially so in fanfiction. You write for Readers, but you also write for YOU, and I love that. Also: I'm fond of hydrangeas. Sadly cannot grow them in my area, but they're beautiful plants.

You gave me so many details, thank you thank you thank you! It's wonderful to be able to 'see' what you see when you populate your world with characters and their lives. I also am appreciative of the thought you've placed into this version of Peter, as well as the lead. I don't mind if the lead has a name or not or if an author chooses to use the Y/N, it just isn't something I quibble over in a story. What I do mind is when characters seem like an afterthought or have little depth. In other words, writers who can get me into that headspace (internal dialogue and what have you) are just mmmm. I want to feel the experience through their eyes and you do that because your characters have that depth. They're relatable. Even when they're messed up, behaving badly, or otherwise say stupid stuff (the characters I mean, not you writing them) they are relatable. Because we've all done those things. Well...I have anyway!

Thank you for taking the time to answer the long ask! Looking forward to your next piece!

I have no idea if 'asks' have a character limit so if I get cut off there's potential for more...

I'd like to begin at the beginning because the mob!peter world has several stories and w/o knowing exactly when/how it all came to be or if they're related etc, here goes, starting with 'Flirting':

What are the particulars concerning this business gala at which Peter and Reader meet?

Peter seems to operate in a murky area of legitimate and quasi-legal operations, so in what capacity is he attending? Any rivals also present (guy hitting on Reader notwithstanding)

Why is Reader there?

What was Reader's drink that Peter so thoughtfully refilled? How long was he stalking her attentive he was to notice her glass was empty among other things...

What was Reader wearing and in what way did she and Peter 'match'? You're the writer, but I confess that mob!peter in a suit makes me think things that would make Ed Sheeran blush like a tomato.

What play did they see?

From your excellent series That's The Price & the other piece, Nothing Good Ever Happens:

Is the Peter in these works the same as the Peter above? (the hydrangeas were not a coincidence in other words)

If so, what is the timeline with respect to the business gala, the wedding and the engagement ring being stolen?

What did Reader and Peter talk about during their unchaperoned park 'date'?

What type of wedding band do they each wear?

What is the name of Gwen and Harry's newborn? I can't recall it being mentioned.

Is Felicia single? Do any of the other women run a business (arising from Peter's view on gender roles and curious as to whether that plays out across the other characters)

Questions regarding the honeymoon, etc (I know how the birds and bees work):

Any idea in mind where in Italy? Near the coast (surfing) I assume, perhaps Amalfi? Side note: Still giggling over "Italy makes you mean, dove."

What was her fruity drink?

Did Reader have a boy or a girl?

Am I correct in thinking that When My Time Comes and the loose followup are a different mob!peter verse so to speak? It's all good, I'm mostly making certain if they are distinct that I place the characters in the proper world. I love getting into the weeds with stories that writers create; thank you for indulging me!

Whew that was long! Have a Campari and orange on me!

AHHHH I LOVE THESE QUESTIONS!!!!!

Following your lead and starting with Flirting

In my idea it was that the business gala was being held by the Osborn's. Both families being invalid in the mafia use it as a chance to mingle, make business deals. However, being the dickhead Norman Osborn is he fronts it as a Osborn charity and just funnels the money into his and his business partners money...one of them being Peter Parker.

Peter has his hands in a lot of different businesses in his area. However, he like any good mafia man got his start drug trades specifically getting pharmaceuticals into the hands of dealers which low-key helps people who can't afford prescriptions. But as he grew and his money grew that just became one way profit came in. He's done arms dealings, which by that he found himself pretty interested in being a hitman. But now he just gets to play boss and that's the big reason he's there. Looking out at his competition, seeing who he need to befriend (or take out) and making his presence known...basically marking his territory in the most nonchalant way. And yes rivals are present which is why he has to let everyone know he's there.

Reader is a friend of the Osborns. She also comes from a family who's dealt in and with the mob. Her father ran circles with Osborn for years and it's just the culture she grew up in.

Peter noticed Reader from the moment she stepped in on Gwen's arm. He was lurking behind or at least near her half the night trying to figure out how to approach her. Then he noticed her glass had been empty for about 20 minutes, and he'd learned throughout the night she never changed her drink: which was a very simple Long Island iced tea made with a cherry coke.

So we know this iconic suit. Reader was wearing something similar to this in my mind but more to the purple tone of his coat and a nice slit in the leg.

They go and see the phantom of the opera. Peter came into tickets from a friend and he'd never seen it and reader loved every moment of it cause she'd never been to a play/musical before.

That's the Price and Nothing Good Ever Happens

The Peter from these piece could be the Peter from Flirting. But to me they are two different versions of Peter. Also hydrangeas are never coincidental- because they're my favorite flower thus they are readers also. But if you do read flirting as a part of the That's the Price/Nothing Good Ever Happens universe it would fit in right before Peter agrees to the marriage and the dates become chaperoned and reader finds her self upset at Peter for arranging a marriage and barely even knowing her.

I'm not sure how the timeline would work since in my head they aren't a big fic. I would guess it would be: the gala a couple weeks later Peter and Tony (readers father) agree to a marriage, Reader becomes upset with Peter but moves into the house, married they do trade bands but send it out to get engraved cause that's a Parker tradition. The engagement ring gets stolen two weeks post honeymoon.

Now this is having Flirting not at all apart of this canon. At first they talk about their future together. What they'll do, how much of the business Reader will participate in because what is Peter's is hers and vice versa. But it goes into the more dreamy things. Asking Peter what he'd do if he got to have a normal life (he says he'd be a scientist or a science teacher and reader says she'd be hair stylist or a painter) What they'll name their kids, and what they're dream house looks like.

Peter splurged on the engagement ring and its matching band. green diamond with a solid gold band to match. Reader struggled to pick out Peter's because why are mens wedding bands so boring? So she got one she thought matched hers.

Gwen and Harry have a little girl named Daphne

Yes Felicia is very single and she plans on staying that way. Felicia basically is Peter's business partner no matter what Harry says and he basically runs everything through her as well. Peter will work with Silver Sable on occasion who is obvious a trained mercenary but also a great arms dealer.

Honeymoon Edition

I pictured Capo Mannu which I believe is in Sardinia. It's very pretty and apparently great for surfing from what I read. (Italy makes you mean, dove - the best line I've ever written.)

Reader's favorite fruity drink is a daiquiri. I myself am a strawberry daiquiri girl if I want a fruity drink but I see her as being a pineapple or peach girl.

OHHHHH I love this. So they have twins! A boy named Benjamin that they nick name Benji and then they have a girl name Estella or Stella for short.

When My Time Comes is basically my mob!Peter rebirth. So most, if said otherwise, my mob!Peter stuff will follow that continuity now. So married straight out of high school both still young in their late twenties. Peter in this timeline wasn't born into the mob he was kind thrown into it when he realized Spider-Man wasn't going to solve the problem from the outside and then he got in and realized that not only could he support himself doing this he could get to the bad guys easier.

See you asked another set of question. I'm gonna eat my parmesan crusted chicken and then get to those because this is literally my favorite thing. I love talking about this stuff.

Your Honor, I respectfully submit that Mandy keep issuing the #Sweater Weather Challenge annually because this fic by @shiorimakibawrites was a wonderful example of a fluffy warm cozy adorable scrumptious experience. Just all around good vibes by the writer. Well done! Lot of great works have come from this challenge and I've enjoyed them!

Baking with Love

Last-minute final entry to Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge presented by @she-likesorchids.

This one uses the prompts - baking/cooking together combined with the "You taste like cinnamon" and "Your hands are freezing."

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 1,287

Summary: Matt Murdock and You make pumpkin bread and cookies.

Tags/ Warnings: Established Matt / Reader relationship, Tooth-rotting fluff

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata thought you might enjoy some Matty fluff.

Baking with Love

You sighed with relief when you entered Matt’s building. You were very happy to be out of the wind. It hadn’t been a long walk but your cheeks, nose, and ears felt like they had been scrapped raw by the biting wind. Your hands weren’t much better. You had tried to switch your tote between your hands so each got the chance to hide in your pocket but it hadn’t helped much.

The door to Matt’s apartment swung open just as you were about to reach for the knob. Matt, of course, having likely between aware of your approach for at least a block. He did this trick all the time but it still managed to make you jump each time. Judging by the grin on his face, Matt found your reaction just as amusing as he always did.

Along with any other time he sneaked up on you. Which happened a lot. Because in addition to being a lawyer, Matt was also a ninja. You keep threatening to make him wear a bell. Which only made him laugh harder. He is so lucky that he’s cute.

He looked especially cute today. First, he was smiling wide enough for the dimples to come out. That was always going to be adorable. Second, since he was at home and neither of you was planning to go anywhere until later, he hadn’t put on his dark glasses. So you got to see his lovely hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. Third, he was wearing a snuggle sweater.

Cable-knit and dark brown in color, it looked incredibly soft. You hoped you’d get to find out later. There were plans to snuggle together on the couch under the blankets, after the baking was done, but you knew how easily those plans could get disrupted for either lawyer or vigilante reasons.

If the former, you would sigh but accept the situation. Unless it was Burke, Winthrop, & Associates being themselves again. If you had to spent your snuggle time working through another pile of motions that dance right up to the edge of being frivolous from those bastards, you might actually kill someone.

As for the later . . . Daredevil might end up being the last of their worries. You might not have Matt’s fighting skills but you had connections. The benefit of feeding the local vigilantes like the semi-feral cats that they are. You could delegate your vengeance.

You also enjoyed how that sweater clung to those board shoulders and hinted at the solid muscle of his torso. That he had paired with jeans that showed off his perfect ass was just a bonus.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Matt greeted you as he ushered you into his apartment. It was toasty warm in there. You sat down your tote on the bench and flexed your hands. Then winced. It might have been a short walk but it was long enough and air was cold enough to leave your hands stiff and aching.

You did another little startled jump when your hands were engulfed by Matt’s hands. His big, wonderfully warm hands. He started massaging the backs of your hands with his thumbs.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said. “Still can’t find your gloves?”

“No,” you said. And sighed. “I’ll find them eventually. I know they are somewhere in my apartment. They have to be.”

“Not giving up?” he asked, almost casual. As if we weren’t discussing the gloves he had given you for Christmas. The ones you distinctively remembered packing when you put away your fall and winter clothes this spring but were inexplicably missing from the box when you opened it last week.

“No,” you said firmly. “I really like those gloves. I’m not giving up on them.”

You silently prayed that Matt got the message that you weren’t just talking about your gloves.

“Thank you,” he said softly, squeezing your hands and looking a little misty-eyed.

You smiled. Looks like he got it. You squeezed his hands back. “Hey mister, where’s my kiss?”

He laughed as he dropped your hands in favor of cupping your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, then he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. It was a slow but thorough kiss. The kind of kiss that soon had your hands gripping his upper arms. That sweater was just as soft as it looked. Definitely going to kill anyone who prevented snuggle time.

The unfortunate need for air meant the kiss had to end. You tried not to pout about that.

Matt kissed your forehead and murmured, “You taste like cinnamon.”

You hummed, then remembered. “The coffee cake has cinnamon in the streusel topping.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?” he asked with a mock pout.

“Sorry but I was running out of space in the tote,” you said. You leaned up and kissed his forehead. “Maybe one of these cold night, Daredevil will come to my apartment looking for a little snack.”

“Maybe he will,” Matt said with a grin. A grin that shifted into something coy. “And afterward, he might also have some cake.”

You felt your face get warm. Along with the first stirrings of arousal. Your voice was a little breathy when you answered, “Sounds like a plan. I look forward to seeing it in action.”

Matt smirked, the cocky smug one. He knew the effect he was having on you. But he let his hands fall away from your face. He stepped to the side of you and reached the tote bag. Curiously weighted it in one hand.

“What’s all in here?”

“Cookbook, mini-loaf pan, cookie sheets, parchment paper, pumpkin puree, apples –”

“I thought we making pumpkin bread?”

“We are but I saw a recipe that I want to try for apple cinnamon oatmeal cookies. Thought that we could make those too.”

“Those do sound good,” Matt said with smile.

You both got to work.

Since the whine of the motor in your hand-mixer, especially at point-blank range, made Matt wince, the butter and sugar would need to be creamed by hand. Since Matt had giant arm muscles and superhero stamina while you didn’t, you gave him that job.

While he did that, you peeled, cored, and chopped apples. Then tossed them with a little lemon juice to prevent them from oxidizing and because it enhanced the favor of the tart apples. You might occasionally gotten distracted by Matt’s . . . everything.

Like that play of muscles under that sweater while he did the creaming.

Or his ass when he had to bend down to retrieve a larger bowl – you had underestimated how big of a bowl you need for the pumpkin bread dough. Which, it seemed to you, happened a lot with pumpkin. At least it wasn’t pumpkin pie. You always seemed to end up with more batter than you had pie shells.

But what caught you eye the most was that sweet, dopey smile that kept returning to his face. This was the most relaxed you had seen Matt in a while. You supported what he did but that didn’t meant you liked seeing him frustrated and stressed.

But the soft, loving look in his eyes after you kissed his forehead and said “I love you” that – that really made your heart flutter. And it was in that moment that you knew you wanted to marry him.

Matt’s predication proved to be accurate. The cookies were delicious. You are definitely adding those to your fall treats, you thought as you snuggled against Matt on the couch. Your predication about the sweater was also accurate. It was wonderfully soft.

“What are we watching, sweetheart?” Matt asked. It was your turn to pick the movie.

“Hocus Pocus.”

Ending Note

They are making the pumpkin bread and cookies for Foggy, Karen, Marci, Claire as well as their circle of vigilante friends – the Defenders, Frank Castle, and Spider-Man.