Fictional Ppl x reader

Breakfast (SteveRogersxreader)

You woke up early enough to start making breakfast. You had wanted to do something special for your roommates especially now that you were all under one roof for at least for a couple of days until Thor had to leave for Asgard again and before you were all given assignments that would probably divide you into groups of two just like the last time.

After you showered, you had decided to wear a lazy day outfit that consisted of a (F/T.V/S) shirt that was a little big for you and a comfortable pair of (f/c) shorts. You were tying back your hair into a simple messy bun when you entered the large posh looking kitchen inside the tower. Flipping on the little red switch of the coffee maker, it immediately began to heat and bubble as the scent of freshly brewed coffee slowly started filling the room.

"Good morning JARVIS!" you called as you pulled out ingredients here and there you were in need of for the pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns as well as a frying pan and a large electric pancake griddle, which you plug in and set at 350 degrees.

"Good morning Ms. (Y/L/N) , how can I be of service today?" the AI voiced politely.

"Would you mind turning on my iTunes playlist? I need something inspiring while I cook."

"Of course Ms. (Y/L/N), shall I play it from the beginning or is there a particular song you wish to listen to first?" 

"Play track #9 please, thank you."

"Very good madam."

Placing on a (f/T.V/s) themed apron you kept in the kitchen closet, "She's a Lady" sung by Tom Jones began to play and it brought a smile to your lips as you counted off all the things you needed to start making the breakfast. Okay, it's best to make the bacon first then the pancakes then the hash browns and finally the eggs. Eggs are always so easy and quick to cook which is why you decided to make them last.

Preheating the oven to 350 degrees, you now take out two baking sheets from the bottom pantry close to the oven and line them up with parchment paper. Next you proceeded to add the strips of bacon over the parchment paper in neat horizontal lines and then once the oven was preheated you place the already prepared baking sheets in allowing them to cook. Because of the fact that you were going to be doing a continuous amount of multitasking you set the timer on the oven for twenty-five minutes to remind you about the now sizzling and hissing meat you would soon need to flip over.

"She's a Lady... Oh whoa, whoa! She's a lady! Talking about that little Lady!" Tom Jones sang overhead and you began to mouth the lyrics just as you started to mix the dry ingredients into a large bowl for the pancakes "And the lady is mine!"

Your hips started to sway along gently to the music as you now began to incorporate the wet ingredients with the dry until the batter was ready for the now hot griddle.

"Well she knows what I'm about she can take what I dish out and that's not easy!" you now start to sing with Tom just as you poured three perfect dollops of batter then watched how they bubbled perfectly on one side before flipping them so that they could cook evenly on the other side.

After making a tall stack of pancakes you snuck a peek into your bowl to see how much batter was left when you nodded n confirmation while you continued to sing. "She's a Lady... Oh whoa, whoa! She's a lady! Talking about that little Lady! And the Lady is mine!"

There was still enough batter to make three more pancakes, so again after spreading a little butter on the griddle this time around, the butter hissed a moment when you finally added three more dollops and watched them cooking again just to make sure that they didn't burn.

The moment that the song finished, "Tenerife Sea" by Ed Sheeran began to play when you heard a small applause coming from behind you. Your eyes widened and your face went hot with embarrassment. Slowly, you turned your body halfway to find Steve sitting on one of the tall stools by the island counter. While wearing a huge grin, he looked at you and was clapping at your just finished performance. He stopped after you began to address him.