~Sincerely, Your Neighbor 💌 [Milkman x Reader]

Ch.9 - Cinnamon Rolls

Useless fun fact: The title is supposed to be for ch.14 lmao

Yessir, congrats on being featured 👏

CW // V10L3NCE, GORE

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  Soft metal clanks echo in the air as I set it down on the counter. Francis comes back with a handful of ingredients in his arms, quite confused why he didn't set down one by one, but I don't bother asking him.

  He carefully place down the fragile ingredients like the eggs, where it almost fell off the counter but I caught it before it could fall into its faith. With some remaining ingredients left in his arms, he sets it down with a thud, causing a small mushroom cloud puff out of the flour bag. We both stare at the supplies, him fanning the air in front of him to be rid of the flour particles in the air.

  "So, what're we making?" I turn to him rubbing his chin in deep thought.

  "Cinnamon rolls?" He picks up a small cinnamon packet, facing it at my direction as he shakes it a bit. The clumps of powder moves within the packet. I look back at the other ingredients and scratch the back of my head, really not knowing what to do.

  He hands me over a cookbook, nodding at me to look into it. It's somewhat familiar to that one bakery downtown, hence the colors and design. It might just be a coincidence somehow, so I have no means to ask him about it.

  Following the instructions, Francis is seperating the egg yolk, while I mix the mixture on the table with a spatula. I was locked into my task, letting the world around me fade out of existence. As my hand moves automatically, a hand reaches out to my wrist, gently holding it to help me mix the mixture. Reality falls back, two hands on both of mine, a warm sensation against my back.

  "Mmm.. Like that." His voice smooth like butter, causing me to get flustered at his soothing words.

  "I didn't need your help, I can do it." I try to pull my hand out of his, but the grip he has on it made prying useless. Sighing out of defeat, I let him guide me, my hand controlled by his movements as the spatula swirls within the mixture elegantly. His feelings somehow meant a lot to me at this moment. I have no clue why, but after from what  I did to him and the kindness he's showing gave me some sort of guilt. But now overlooking this position I'm in, I can't help but chuckle quietly as my face becomes burning hot.

  The flour coats half of the entire counter as the dough is moved out of the bowl.

  "So we're gonna shape it like a roll?" I glance at him from the cookbook. He nods while he kneads the dough.