Death By Chocolate: Miguel O'Hara/Venom X reader

Chapter 5

YN

Why can't I get him out of my head?!

He's just some guy who buys an ungodly amount of chocolate and mumbles to himself. And has the most exquisite jaw line. And broad shoulders. And beat the fuck out of your tormentors just because he wanted to. That last one should be the biggest turn off. But it's had the opposite effect over the last several days. It's been four days since your argument- if you can even call it that- and you're starting to get worried.

It's still early in the morning, and you're currently swirling dark chocolate around on the marble countertop with a pastry scraper, smoothing it out and gathering it together while it tempers. It's a soothing process, and one of your favorite parts of chocolate making. Especially on quiet mornings like this. Robby hasn't called since he questioned you about his missing friends, your shipment is now on its way so you won't run out of chocolate for Miguel, and even though it worries you that Donny, Malcolm, and Dean are missing, you can't deny the peace it gives you to know they won't be barging in here for the foreseeable future.

Life is almost perfect. Except all the loose ends that'll never tie up. Robby could still come here for his money. Miguel could stop coming in to buy all the bark he can get his hands on. And your feelings for him are so conflicted anyway, especially for someone you barely know. He's just a pretty face with a polite, but serious disposition.

With another batch of dark chocolate tempered, you scoop it up into the pitcher and pour it into your molds to remelt for dipped strawberries for a special pickup order tomorrow. All the chocolate making is done, and now the boring part has to happen before the store opens. Office work. Recording invoices and profits and expenses. The literal worst part of pursuing your dream. No one prepared you for how mundane it is. Not even in your business classes in culinary school.

Soon enough, it's time to open the shop. Donning an apron, and opening a fresh box of black gloves, you head out to the front where the late morning sun shines down on the sidewalk outside. Except there's a man standing outside the front door waiting to come in. A tall man with broad shoulders, and a slim waist, and muscles that bulge through the sleeves of his jacket. His brown hair, shiny like the chocolate you just tempered, is brushed back in an effortless way.

Your heart leaps and your stomach does violent flips. You swallow and put a smile on your face as you unlock the door and open it for him. A waft of cologne hits you with the air that rushes in from outside. It steals some of the strength out of your voice. "Good morning. You're here early."

He steps inside as I flip the sign and shut the door. "I wanted to catch you before anyone else came in."

Your brows raise and your stomach tightens in an addictive way. "Want me all to yourself, huh?"

He looks down at you and says smoothly, "yes."

Breath sticks in your tight chest. You have to blink away from his dark eyes and perfect face to get your thoughts back under control. He's never looked at you like that. He's never caused such a violent eruption of butterflies in your stomach before. And then you realize what he probably means, and your face flames with embarrassment. "Are you here to apologize?"

His expression drops. "For what?"

The heat travels back up to your chest as anger flares. "For putting your foot in my business and assaulting three people behind my shop."

His chest puffs out with an inhale, a feat that may very well rip the seams of his black jacket. "I'm not sorry for that."

You frown at him. "So, you weren't trying to help me? You just felt like being violent for no reason?"