Roommates with PB&JJ · Y/n story by @pvnkxgrll

The scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee wrapped around the apartment's main living space like a warm blanket. Morning light streamed through the large windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Peter Parker

flipping pancakes at the stove with practiced ease Three stacks coming up. Blueberry, chocolate chip, and plain for the traditionalists.

Johnny Storm

leaning against the kitchen island, watching Peter work You know, for a guy who swings through skyscrapers, you're surprisingly domestic, Pete. It's almost... attractive.

Peter Parker

without looking up from the griddle Save the charm for someone who hasn't seen you set your own hair on fire, Torch.

In the far corner of the room, Bob Reynolds sat curled in an armchair, a thick novel open but largely ignored in his lap. His gaze drifted between the kitchen activity and Y/n's position in the room, his fingers tracing the same paragraph for the third time.

Johnny Storm

sliding onto the stool next to Y/n So, gorgeous. How'd you sleep? Dream of anyone specific?

Peter Parker

sets a perfect stack of blueberry pancakes in front of Y/n Don't answer that. Johnny's ego is already a fire hazard.

The apartment hummed with this particular morning music—the sizzle of the pan, Johnny's easy laughter, Peter's quiet efficiency, and Bob's silent observation. A delicate balance maintained by not acknowledging the currents running just beneath the surface.