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ghoststyles · 28 days

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Casanova

HIIIII 🤍 Here is a little piece I've been working on for a while! This is inspired by the song Casanova by Rayland Baxter. Harry is a manipulative little twat in this, so bare with me 🤍

7.5K words;

TW: SLIGHT mommy kink. He doesn't call her mommy but he calls her mama and Miss/Missy. P in V sex, oral sex, phone sex. FACETIME SEX <3 Slight mentions of suicide. EXTREME drug and alcohol abuse. Arrests, jail. the works.

ENJOY AND GIVE ME A BOOP IF YOU LIKE IT :D

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Money, all I ever want is money But I never wanna work for the money So I borrow the money from a woman

Harry Styles knew who he was from a young age. A charmer. A flirt. He uses his wits and his good looks to manipulate the people around him until they have no choice but to give in, conning them and infiltrating their lives for his own gain.

His days are simple; He sleeps until 11, combs his hair into a perfect swirl of chocolate curls, brushes his perfectly white and straight teeth, spritzes his neck with his ridiculously priced Tom Ford cologne, climbs into his Porsche Cayenne to hit the gym, and grab an $18 smoothie for the ride home. From there, he lets the day unfold how it pleases, until it’s time to go to the club with his friends. Here and there, he’ll meet up with his dealer and his bookie to spice it up.

Rinse. Reuse. Repeat.

As a child, Harry was dirt poor. He’d never let anyone know that, however. His perfectly curated image blossomed the minute he got to college, leaving any ounce of mediocrity behind. His friends were none the wiser, assuming Harry was there blowing his trust fund like the rest of them, when really, he was a charity case.

Every day, he’d walk to the corner store for cigarettes for his dad and cans of tuna fish, stealing a small item to try and feel something. The owner, Mr. Abbott, knew Harry stole from him, but never said a word. He’d return to their one bedroom apartment, flicking the light on, only to find the electric bill hadn’t been paid.

His parents are not addicts or criminals, by any means. If they were, he’d at least have a touching back story. Neither of them have the drive or the desire to succeed like he does. They lived their simple lives, worked paycheck to paycheck to support him and his siblings and never worked for more.

On the day he left for college, he vowed to himself to never let anyone see him as the poor, pathetic boy he was. He’ll put his own silver spoon in his mouth, if he must.

So, as he sits high and mighty on his throne after doing a few lines off a pretty girl’s tits in the VIP section of his favorite club, The Viper, surrounded by his fellow socialite friends, he thinks of one person.

You.

Harry isn’t unemployed, per se, but, he doesn’t exactly have a job, either. Two years ago, at the ripe age of 21, he graduated magna cum laude from university, with top marks in all of his classes. But, he knew he didn’t want to work a traditional job. He wanted to travel, he wanted to live lavishly, and he wanted to party.

That’s where you come in. The gorgeous, alluring and kind-hearted woman that feeds the beast that is his lifestyle. He wouldn’t change it for the fucking world.

Swiping aimlessly one day on the dating apps, he stopped his scroll abruptly to study your profile. You’re perfectly curated - the collection of photos reflecting your outgoing personality and beauty.

38. Looking for some fun. Dog mom. CEO. Let me spoil you <3

Seeking a male ages 21-28.

His eyebrow quirks. A sugar mommy? Is that a thing?

He swipes right, hoping deep down you match. This could be it. This could be his way in. The funds from his financial aid are quickly dwindling, and he’d be sooner caught dead than with a part-time job.

He dawdles around his apartment for a few hours, pacing the room to see if you matched with him. The possibility of this arrangement is scratching an itch he’s been desperate to quell.

He readies himself to meet his friends at the club, placing cologne on his neck and wrists. For good measure, he adjusts himself in his trousers to get a little blood flowing down there.

As he plucks his keys from the door, he hears the familiar ping from the dating site ring out from his laptop. Stopping in his tracks, he pivots to stand at his desk. He swallows thickly before entering his passcode.

Congratulations, Casanova94, you matched with BabyHoneyxo

A dazed smile makes its way to his lips, his dimple popping significantly. This is going to be good.

Can you believe I never met her? Can you believe she never met me, too? But she calls me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

Now, almost two years later, you and Harry have still never met in person. But, that’s by your request. You want a companion. A call boy. Someone who will always answer the phone when you need it. And ever since you inherited your family’s wealth and company, you want someone to spoil.

It started off slow; texts asking about one another’s day, learning about hobbies and interests. Then, the wire deposits came in. Harry wasn’t sure if he had hearts in his eyes or dollar signs. You don’t tell him how to spend the money, but you definitely drop hints.

“Get yourself a new outfit, baby. Then send me a picture,” you smiled lazily on FaceTime one night. “Maybe you can find something to match the Porsche.”

Harry chuckles boyishly, “You’re too good to me. I just went shopping last week!”

He has you eating out of the palm of his hand.

“I know, I know. I just want my baby boy to be happy. Can you pull yourself out for me, baby? Wanna see you,” you purr, making yourself comfortable on your king sized bed in your quiet penthouse. You’re winding down for bed, even though your lover is just getting ready for the night.

“Mhm,” Harry responds, voice an octave higher and desperate sounding. He slides himself out, letting his cock harden slowly in his hands. “My friends will be here soon, Missy.”

“That’s okay, bubba. We’ll be quick. Mmm, look how big and gorgeous you are,” your sultry tone sends shivers up his spine. He adjusts the camera so you’re looking at his abdomen from below his thick cock.

“My perfect boy,” you moan out as you touch your clit for the first time this evening. “Always so good for me.”

“Yes, Missy. Wanna be good for you. Can I touch myself harder now?”

“Yeah, baby, go ahead. Squeeze that big cock. Tell me when you’re close.”

At this point, you’re furiously rubbing your clit, and gently teasing a finger inside. His breaths are becoming more labored as he pumps his cock at a faster pace. You pause just before your climax, sending your heart rate to a thunderous pace you can hear the ringing in your ears.

You look over at your phone propped up next to you to find your little love sweating and fisting himself hurriedly. The whimpers coming from the other end make the hairs on your arms stand up. After a beat, you continue the assault on your clit, starting off slow in order to reach that peak again.

“I-I’m close, Missy. Please let me cum. I f-feel so good,” at the tail end of his begging, he moans deeply.

“Uh-uh. Who always cums first, baby?”

“You, Mama. You cum first,” he pants, his eyes making panicked contact with yours.

“That’s right. Good boy. I’m so close baby,” you squeak out as you stick two fingers in your cunt. You cry out, at your release, gently tweaking your nipple with your other hand.

Harry isn’t far behind, taking one last swipe over his tip, using his other hand to cup his balls. He cums all over his fist, small specks of white littering his belly. He whimpers again, barely able to open his eyes.

“Let me see, baby,” you whisper, waiting for him to show you his load. He pans the camera silently, the haze already leaving his head. But he’d never tell you that.

“Thank you, Missy. I feel so good.”

“Mmm, bet you do, baby. Now go clean up and have fun with your friends. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Behave!”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”

The minute Harry presses ‘end’, an ounce of remorse bubbles in his chest. Just an ounce. He rises from his bed to jump in the shower, ridding him of his guilt and shame.

Sure, you’re gorgeous, and nice. But you’re not what’s getting him off. Or so he likes to tell himself. Throughout your sessions on FaceTime, Harry’s mind wanders to the girls he’s hooked up with the weekend before, and the countless drugs he’ll consume on a night out. That’s what gets his rocks off.

You’re the means to his ends. The gateway to his wildest dreams. He’s going to hold onto you for as long as he can, even if he has to get off over the phone a few nights, or pretend to care about the philanthropy you’re supporting that week.

Harry should be your only philanthropy, he thinks to himself. This is the easiest job he’s ever done. And it only makes it better that he can do whatever he wants, with no consequences.

As he gets out of the shower, his prick still swinging in the air, he picks up his phone to see a Venmo payment from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $2,000.00 - 😘

Without even hesitating, Harry, heart rate rising a bit, opens up a text field - to his club promoter. He ignores the dozens of texts from family members over the last few weeks. He’ll make his yearly obligation call to his mother at some point.

Hey, Mike! Can we upgrade to V.I.P tonight? I can put $2K down now.

He’ll thank you later. Tonight, he’s the hero of his friend group. A slight nervousness prickles on his neck. Harry isn’t naive - he knows he should be smarter with his money - your money. But you haven’t given him any reason to believe the well will run dry any time soon.

So far, despite your generosity, Harry still lives paycheck to paycheck. He blows his money on extravagant trips, nights out at the club, and plenty of booze and coke. It’s times he hopes to look back on one day and smile. He swears to you he’s saving the money and working towards investing and buying a house.

Scout’s honor.

I got a real bad feeling, I'ma let her down Got a hole in my pocket and I'm running around Spending all of her money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin' Back to the hole that I came from

Every night that he steps out of his apartment, he shakes the nagging feeling in his gut, the embodiment of the life he left behind. He calls his Uber Black to take him to the Viper, his little white baggy in the breast pocket of his Burberry overcoat.

He nods to the driver when he opens his door and proceeds to pour a small line of the substance onto the screen of his phone, but not without seeing another text from you.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Enjoy the night, sweet boy! Be safe xo

Harry smiles to himself at your contact in his phone. You all but had a fit when you found out he’d never seen The Graduate. Once he saw it, his world changed.

Swiping away your message, he plugs up his nostril, inhaling sharply as he moves his face over the surface of the screen. He grunts lightly, throwing his head back and shaking it out. That should hold him over until they’re in their secluded area of the club.

The car pulls up to the club around 11:45, the house music already bumping. The line looks brutal. He scans it to see if he spots any 10s waiting that can keep him company later. Miles, Marquise and Jade are already inside at their table.

The bouncers greet Harry, bumping his fist and patting him on the back. He can feel the eyes of the nobodies in line glaring at him enviously. When you spend the average person’s salary in one night at the club, you eagerly reap the benefits.

As he’s escorted through the crowd by the five-foot-nothing hostess, his senses are on high alert. He can hear his heart beating over the music and can feel the bass shaking the floors. He smiles tightly at the girl as she leads him to his table and scurries back into the crowd.

Marquise and Miles, his best friends from undergrad stand to greet him, as Jade greets him from the lap of her catch of the day, a burly, bearded dude already glowing from sweat and the 8-ball they’re about to dig into.

Taking his first swig of the Don Julio his regular bottle service girl, Tasia, pours into his mouth, he cracks a wicked smile, convincing himself there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

“So,” you start quietly on your daily FaceTime coffee date. You’re perched in your home library’s windowsill. “I was thinking of flying you in for my 40th. It’s going to be pretty chill. I’ll probably hire a chef and have a dinner at my place. Maybe 15-20 people.”

Harry is cocooned in a blanket on his bed, his iced coffee you had DoorDashed to his apartment slowly melting on his bedside table. His eyes had slowly drifted shut as he listened to you talk about everything and nothing. That’s how these things went — you talk and he listens. You’re after his companionship, after all.

At your words, his eyes shoot open, causing him to try and sit up gently so he can hear you better, not believing what you’re saying. Inhaling, he hesitates before he starts to reply.

“Uh, um,” he bites his lip and looks at himself in the corner of the screen, trying to gauge if he looks as shocked as he sounds. “W-when are you thinking? I have a couple trips coming up and plans with my friends.”

He decides to play it cool. You have to know this is a huge development in this arrangement, right?

“Well, my birthday is the 27th, obviously.”

He scoffs, “I knew that part, Miss. When is the party?”

“Watch the ‘tude, baby. I was hoping for that Saturday, maybe. But I’d be willing to work around what you have coming up.”

He’s lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have major travel plans until the summer, when his friend group will jet off to Greece. He’s been saving up your pennies to charter a private plane.

“Don’t agree to it now, but please think about it. I love spending time with you and I’d love to finally meet you. We can tell my family that you’re part of one of my philanthropy groups. I’m your largest donor, after all,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Okay, let me get myself together for the day, and I can see what’s going on,” Harry grits out, trying not to let you down.

“Okay, baby. Have a good day. Let me know if you get up to anything fun,” you say with a mild hurt in your tone. The least he can do is make an effort to finally meet you.

“Will do. Bye, Miss,” He says quietly, swiftly hanging up the call and chucking the phone towards his pillows.

“Fuck!”

Hm, Casanova You know that I'm a casanova Throw my pennies in the well Waking up in jail 'Cause I never paid attention Do you remember all the good times? Do you remember all the bad times too? She reminds me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. Every day that passes as your birthday party looms, you mention flights, or activities you can do once he arrives. Harry laughs them off, distracting you by touching himself or telling a story from his gatherings with friends.

It’s not until you’re barking orders at him over the phone, 1 week before your party, denying his orgasm that he finally relents.

“Miss, please, I-I need to cum,” he whimpers as he has a ghostly touch over his angry, red cock. “P-please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm? I want my pretty baby at my birthday party. Wanna show you off and whisper filthy things in your ear and feel that pretty cock under the table. Agree to fly out to me and I’ll let you cum, baby.”

“Miss,” he croaks out, his stomach in shambles trying to stop himself from coming for the third time. “Okay, okay, Mama, I’ll go. I-I’ll come for your birthday! Please let me cum.”

You all but squeal in delight, instructing him to finally let go. Talking him through it, he keens from your praises for following the rules. A nervous heat travels up his neck, realizing what he agreed to in his post-nut clarity.

“Good boy. Take a picture before you clean up, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning and I’ll have my assistant send over your travel information.”

He nods, unable to make eye contact. You’re oblivious and overjoyed, thinking he’s just too fucked out to look at you.

“G’night, Missy,” he chokes out.

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you hum before hanging up.

Harry snaps a photo of his messy left fist and cum-covered stomach before cleaning himself up and returning to bed. He eagerly picks up his phone to check his dating apps for his matches. He’d been talking to a new girl, Madelyn, for the past week, so excitement bubbles in his stomach.

She’s meeting him and his regular group at the Viper tonight, so he’s excited to show off to her. Maybe she’ll even be down for a romp in the back seat of his Porsche.

His phone pings, signaling another deposit from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $5,000 - Can’t wait to see you 😘

He smiles, his right thumb picking at the skin of his ring finger. The guilt he feels from abusing your kindness starts to eat at him. But he didn’t get this far by being nice to people. You can’t possibly have feelings for him, right? You haven’t even met, for god’s sake. He shivers, shaking the feeling so he can focus on the night ahead.

Pushing you far, far in the back of his mind.

It’s now the night before your 40th birthday party, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Your penthouse is decorated in pink and floral frill - almost like your Great Aunt Gertrude exploded - but it’s chic and will be a hit amongst your New York City socialite friends. Your party planner floats around the room, puttering with the florals, candles and gem stones scattered around.

You anxiously check the time, counting down the hours until Harry boards his flight from LA. He’s jumping on a red eye, so you’ll greet him with coffee and donuts when he lands. A pang of nervousness hits you as you remember how distant he was this week, saying he was busy with friends or doing god knows what an unemployed 23 year old does in Los Angeles.

Monday, 3:31 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry, missy. I’ve been at Miles’ art showing all day.

Wednesday, 11:27 AM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry! At the gym with Do Not Disturb on. Hey, can you send me some cash? Last min car maintenance 😢

Friday, 5:58 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Hi missy. My friends want to go to the opening of the new Carbone out here. Think your friends can get us a table? It’ll be 9 of us.

Hope your dad’s chemo appointment went okay.

You can’t be mad at the little monster you’ve let him become. You are always an after thought as his only priority is making sure the cash cow is alive and well. He extends effort just enough to make the butterflies in your stomach reappear when he does give you the attention you crave.

Inhaling deeply, you ascend up the grand staircase in your Upper East Side brownstone and begin your pampering routine, sending photos to Harry of the hydrating eye patches on and curlers in your hair, blowing kisses and sticking out your tongue.

Typically, Harry answers relatively quickly to your silly messages, but, tonight, he’s gone radio silent. Maybe he’s trying to conserve his phone battery for the flight?

You open your medicine cabinet to examine your fast-acting anti-anxiety pills, hoping you can will away this uneasy feeling. Padding over to your bed, you pop your pills before tucking into your silk sheets. Before putting your phone on the charger, you send Harry one last message.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Safe flight, baby ♥️ I’ll be tracking you, but tell me which terminal when you land. Can’t wait to see you 😚

Flicking out the light, you close your eyes with the hopes of finally meeting your lover in just twelve hours.

I got a real bad feeling I'ma lose my cool Everywhere that I go, everything that I do Stop me using the money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin'

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

Ping!

Harry, Delta airlines can’t wait to welcome you aboard Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35

Ping!

You may now board Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35. Welcome aboard, Harry.

Harry’s leg is bouncing uncontrollably as he watches the busy bodies move around him. Despite his social butterfly nature, his social anxiety rears its ugly head every once in a while. Or, it could be tonight’s concoction of pills.

He places his phone on Do Not Disturb, just as he gets a text from you. Closing his eyes in defeat, he comes face to face with the awful, shameful and downright despicable choice he’s made.

He’s not going to New York.

Instead, he’s standing booth side at a club next to John Summit, his favorite DJ, as he passes around a bottle of 1942. The pills he’s on are plastering a wide smile on his face as the throng of bodies around him jump around, despite the absolute panic and guilt he feels in his veins.

He’s wondering when you’ll realize he’s not coming. The lack of texts? The empty escalator to the pick-up area well after the flight has landed? He can picture your cherub cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fighting back hot tears.

To distract himself, he leans down to capture the blonde girl to his left in a kiss, despite not even making eye contact with her prior. When she peers up at him, her pupils are just as dilated as his as they sway back and forth.

He kisses her once more, just as Marquise offers him another baggie.

The panic sets in about 30 minutes after his flight landed. Surely that’s enough time to grab his bag and meet you here, right?

Your eyes urgently scan over every person that walks by probably sending them into fight or flight as a deranged woman looks them over in search for her boy.

You look down at your phone, the background a photo of your dog, completely clear of any notifications. With vigor, you throw out the box of donuts and his iced black Americano. Swallowing your pride, you skulk back to the parking lot to cry in the safety of your car.

You feel like a loser. A pathetic middle-aged woman who got fooled by a man half her age. The mental gymnastics that takes place as you drive home with white knuckles on the steering wheel should have you committed.

Your dating life wasn’t easy. It started in high school, where you were invisible to the boys, always deemed not good enough to date. Extending through college, you were still nearly invisible, working over time to find just one guy to have any interest in you and take your virginity. Just to get it over with.

As the dating scene expanded in your 20s, you still struck out with men your age. It wasn’t until your late 30s when your hopes and dreams of a family came crashing down on you that you’d made that godforsaken dating profile.

You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when you saw Harry’s photo for the first time. His boyish charm was palpable, followed by his incredibly witty prompt answers. He was your solution. If you couldn’t earn someone’s love, you could at least buy it.

The lump in your throat is preventing you from calling him and leaving the fiery voicemail you so want to do. You assume he’ll ignore any calls from you anyway.

Pulling into your private garage, you let out your frustrations by wailing and smacking the steering wheel of your Bentley. To prying eyes, the cops should be called. You allow yourself to flip for 5 minutes before putting on a brave face and going inside to begin getting ready for your birthday party, ringing in another year of heartbreak and disappointment.

3 glasses of a 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s how much alcohol it took to have you crying in front of your friends and family.

You couldn’t tell them what was really wrong, of course. They have no idea about your and Harry’s arrangement. They’d call you an idiot if they knew how much money you’ve sent him.

Everyone is shooting you sympathetic looks as you cry on your best friend’s shoulder. For all they know, you’re stressed with work and your dad’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a lot of pressure on a single woman.

Rubbing your back, Candice whispers all the affirmations she’s been telling you since college. It’s incredibly annoying to get advice from someone whose life is perfect.

You quietly thank her, clearing your throat of the lump that’s formed. Looking around the room, you make a break for it, grabbing your phone as you lock yourself in the guest bathroom.

Tears blurring your vision, you dial his number for the first time all day. It rings and rings, finally sending you to voicemail, as you’d suspected.

You’re silent for a beat after the beep.

“I-I don’t even have words for how I’m feeling right now. I was so fucking excited to see you…feel you….kiss you. And instead I’m locked in a bathroom at my own birthday party, calling you like a fucking loser,” you start, snot threatening to drip down your face.

“I give, and I give and I give, and yet you still let me look like a fucking idiot in front of my friends and family. You couldn’t do one fucking thing for me? You…You didn’t even have to put any effort. I paid for a car service, paid for a first-class seat, bought you a wardrobe…”

“I just hope whatever the fuck you’re doing right now is worth it. I don’t ask questions about what you do with my money, since I’m the one who started this. B-but I thought you were a decent person. I feel so fucking stupid right now,” you are talking to yourself at this point. You shakily inhale and stare at the ceiling.

“We’re done. I’m done with your bullshit. I’m not gonna let some ungrateful brat take advantage of me anymore. Have a nice life, Harry. Hope you have to move back to bumblefuck and lose all the friends you’ve been lying to this whole time,” you end off the message with pure venom leaking through your words.

You press end, feeling slightly better that you’d used his deepest darkest secret as ammunition. The mirror in front of you shows a shocking picture; running mascara, watery, red eyes, and disheveled hair.

Patting some toilet paper under your eyes, you clean up the best you can before returning back to the party. If you were strong, you’d block his number. But you can’t help but wonder what his response could be.

He deserves it. It’s 4:40 AM and he just mustered the courage to listen to your message. His under eyes feel heavy as he listens to your words, hitting him where it hurts. His hands are shaking as he lowers the phone to his lap, drowning out the sound of your sad, heartbreaking voice.

5 years ago, he was a decent person. Now, he looks in the mirror and sees his slightly gaunt face and tired eyes staring back at him. He even notices a few gray hairs every once in a while.

His lifestyle takes a toll on him — He’s well aware of that. But for now, he has no reason to stop. Harry lightly smacks his head back on the seat of the Uber back to his apartment. Cracking the window, he lets the sounds of the early morning deter him from vomiting.

The car arrives at his apartment — a guest house in Hidden Hills, the only place he can afford with the zip code he desires so badly. He never brings anyone to his place, too paranoid of his secrets getting out. Vision doubling, he struggles to stick his key in the lock. He knees the door has he twists the knob, sending him tumbling flat on his face.

Smacking his head on the tile floor, he recoils, lifting his hand to feel droplets of blood on his nose and bottom lip. The metallic taste is leaking into his mouth, sending him into a spiral. His front door is still wide open, allowing him to see the sun peaking over the hills in the distance.

He crawls over to the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot. He lays back down on the cool floor, exhausted from his efforts. His breathing evened out, lulling him into a comatose state before succumbing to the darkness.

But before he passes out, all he can picture is your gorgeous, disappointed face.

I'm back in the hole I got nowhere to go La la la la, la, la Spinning around In the cold dark hole deep down in the ground Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from

The thing about rock bottom is that you don’t realize you’ve hit it until you’re clawing your way back to the top.

In the days following your fallout, Harry’s experienced enough misfortunes to last a lifetime. It started off with his credit card declining on a $6 breakfast sandwich, only to come back hungry and sad to his car being repossessed in front of all the Hidden Hills housewives out and about.

The panic rises in his chest, and it’s taking everything in him not to call you and beg for forgiveness. He’s come to realize how fucked up his actions towards you became. He misses the butterflies and longing he felt when you first started your arrangement.

He stomps back inside, miserable and feeling like a loser. If it wasn’t for Marquise’s birthday party later, he’d be sure to go dive in the ocean in hopes of never resurfacing.

His closet is taunting him — full of the clothes you’ve bought him. He can remember every single piece he tried on for you, and the praise you were so quick to give him. He never reciprocated when you’d show him new pieces and showing off your incredible body. But, you hadn’t called him out on it, so he continued on.

The all black outfit he chose reflects his mental state. Filled with dread and remorse, he pulls out his kitchen drawer to peruse the substances he has left. His stash is dwindling as fast as his bank account, so he has to be strategic until he figures out his next move.

Grabbing the baggies, he situates them in the breast pocket of his jacket to conceal everything. They’re going to a new club tonight, so there’s no being saved by the bouncers if shit goes south.

The party goes off without a hitch. Bottles pouring, dancers hanging from the ceiling, and an influx of out of town girls willing to do anyone and anything. Harry has nearly pushed you completely out of his mind, but he does something completely out of character.

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: I’m sorry.

You’re at a wine bar with your girlfriends in the Village, and the message you receive shakes you to your core. You haven’t heard from him in days. Not even after you repossessed the car and canceled his credit card tied to your account. You thought for sure that would smoke him out of his foxhole. But, he’s Harry. He’s selfish and too full of pride to ever come forward and apologize.

Your friends notice the faltered look on your face, but opt to ignore it as they bitch about their husbands and kids. Despite your fleeting dreams of having a family, most of the time you’re thankful you can’t relate to them.

Turning off your phone, you throw it in your new Kelly bag — a little treat to get over the heartbreak — and return to the conversation.

He doesn’t even remember how it went down.

The last clear memory he has is being escorted out of the club to go back to Marquise’s. The combination of coke and alcohol, plus this week’s tumultuous events had him on edge, so when the unfamiliar bouncer at this mediocre club grabbed him wrong, it sent Harry into a frenzy.

To match his bloody nose and busted lip, his knuckles are now decorated with crusty amber smatterings of blood — his own, and the bouncer’s. His jaw and wrist were aching, still mouthing off like a rabid animal as the cop read him his Miranda rights.

So now, he sits in a cold cell in the county jail awaiting his arraignment — a seemingly straight forward assault and battery charge, now amplified by the 40 grams of cocaine and Adderall in his coat pocket. The bastard cop smiled to himself when he patted him down. Harry will give him this one, the rinkydink small town cop who is used to giving out traffic violations.

Tired, in dire need to piss, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, Harry’s head snaps up when the officer notifies him of his bail — a measly $75,000 — and lets him know he has one phone call. Balling his fists, he looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

The cop assists him in standing up. His wrists are chained together behind his back, after all. Releasing him from the confines, Harry rubs his wrists where the cheap metal chafed him.

“You have 5 minutes to make a call. Do you know the phone number or do you need me to access your cell phone?”

Harry scoffs. Who the fuck still memorizes phone numbers?

“Phone,” he replies, a clear edge in his voice.

“Whose contact am I looking for? Mom, Dad?”

“Fuck’s sake. No, I need the number of,” Harry pauses suddenly as he remembers your name in his phone.

“Mrs. Robinson,” he finishes quietly.

The cop raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and reads the number aloud to him. It rings, and rings, diminishing any hope that you’ll answer. It’s in this moment Harry is at his rockbottom.

“Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Department of Corrections for the City of Los Angeles. An individual is trying to contact you. Do you wish to answer?”

You gasp as the automated voice informs you of your worst nightmare.

“Hello?” you say quietly. It’s 8:15 AM, and you’re at the cafe on the corner for a latte and reading, trying not to disturb those around you.

“M-missy?” His voice sounds broken. It sends a stabbing pain straight through your chest.

“Harry, what happened? What did you do?”

“I-I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. N-not just with you. I know I fucked everything u-up,” he’s starting to sob, unable to catch his breath between words.

“B-but I got into a pretty bad fight last night, and I had some,” Harry pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure the officer isn’t listening. He wipes the tears in his eyes with his thumb. “I had some stuff on me, so now I’m in a lot more trouble. A-and I know I fucked everything up and I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t have enough money for bail.”

You sigh, not really even sure where to begin. Tears are threatening to spill over as you hear his clearly broken sobs.

“How much do you need?”

At this point, Harry hung his head at your silence. He snaps his head back up when you agree to help him.

“It’s $75,000.”

“Jesus, Harry, what the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t even know, I barely have any memory of—”

“Five minutes, inmate!” the officer interrupts him.

Harry rolls his eyes and continues.

“I’m not sure what happens next. B-but thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this in the slightest.”

You shiver at his use of your first name. Closing your eyes, “I know you don’t. Just tell me who I need to call.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you hear your incessant doorbell ring. It’s 6 in the morning, just a few days after you paid Harry’s bail. You’ve been laying low, unsure if you’ll even hear from him again.

Your doorman, Paul, informs you of a visitor. A visitor? At this time? Unable to even comprehend what’s going on, you press the button to confirm opening the door, and wait.

Your bunny slippered feet tap your coffee table anxiously. Is it your mom? Here to inform you of someone’s death? Or is it your best friend from college who couldn’t come to your party? Or is it —

You’re broken from your racing thoughts as a timid knock on the door echoes through the house. You shuffle hesitantly over to the door, unable to even bring yourself to look through the peephole.

Closing your eyes while pulling open the door, the absolute wind is knocked out of you as you eye up your waiting guest.

He’s tall, tanned and gorgeous as his photos. It’s unfair to look like this after stepping off what she assumes was a red eye flight. He looks exhausted. His lip and nose are busted, and he has a yellowing bruise on his left eye.

“W-what?” you flounder in disbelief.

His hands fold together at your reaction, unsure if he should hug you or keep a respectable distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He’ll play by your rules.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You look adorable. The sleep barely wiped from your eyes. Slight bed head and disheveled silk pajamas. Harry is in disbelief that this is the woman he’s come to realize his feelings for.

“I know this is so fucked up,” he trails off. “Coming here. I don’t deserve even a minute of your time, but I needed to come here and tell you how fucking sorry I am. How deep into the superficial bullshit I got. I took advantage of you and your kindness and I lost myself in the process.”

You must look flabbergasted, because he inches closer, placing his hands gently on your arms. His touch is searing, but the first reminder that he’s actually standing in front of you and not an extremely lifelike apparition.

“I-I,” you stumble.

“We don’t even have to talk right now. You can send me away, if you need. But I’m here, I’m here in New York and I want to change. I want to be better for you. These last few days— when I had absolutely nothing — made me realize something.”

His eyes are now earnest and starting to tear up. Your reflection is so clear in his tide pool green irises.

“I had nothing, and it made me realizing you’re my everything.”

His profession had you clutching your metaphorical pearls. Your heart is racing, sending your central nervous system into a tizzy. You know he’s not lying, because he’s looking dead in your eyes waiting for your reply.

“H-Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” you stall. Your body knows what it wants to say.

“I know and like I said, if you need time, I underst—”

“If you’re here and you’re not bullshitting me; you really want to change. Then, you’ll fuck me like it.”

If Harry’s jaw could drop to the basement, it would. Instead of word vomiting, he lunges forward, guiding both of your bodies back to the hallway and placing a panty-dropping kiss on your lips. He doesn’t even have time to admire your beautiful home.

You break the kiss, grabbing his wrist to lead him to your room. The sheets are mussed, your clothes are all over, but you can’t even begin to fucking care. You all but dive back onto your bed, pulling your nightgown up to reveal your bare, perfect pussy.

Harry drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs. The photos and the FaceTimes don’t do any justice to the sight in front of him. You’re complete and utter perfection.

He waits for your approval before leaning forward to lick from back to front. Your back arches slightly, throwing your ankles over his shoulder. His fingertips dig into your skin deliciously, so you grab onto your blankets for dear life.

“Give it to me, Missy. I’ve been waiting two years for this perfect cunt. What the fuck was I waiting for?”

You laugh, not expecting his sense of humor at this moment. For the last few months, it’s been like talking to a robot. It was an exchange of goods and services. But here, in front of you, is a man. A man who’s willing to change his ways for you. The man you’ve waited all your life for.

“Always here for you. It’s yours,” you purr, placing your hands on top of his.

He growls, vigorously licking into you. He removes his right hand to insert his two middle fingers into your center. This has you howling, unable to even remember the last time a man did this for you.

“Baby, baby. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, finally,” you whine, focusing on the immeasurable pleasure stemming from your legs.

“Mhm, I can feel you, Mama. Let go for me,” he begs, making direct eye contact with you.

It’s the moment you lock eyes that you’re letting go. All the stars are aligning and symphonies are playing in your head.

“Ah, ah! There, Harry!”

Harry keens at hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slides up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. You grab at his under shirt, insinuating that you want it off.

He peels it off and cheekily pulls your tit out of your nightie. He winks before connecting his lips to your nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud and sucking gently.

“Please, want you inside me. Gimme my big cock, baby.”

“It’s yours, Mama. All of me.”

Harry slides his briefs down his legs, revealing the main event. His dick swings slightly before hitting him in the stomach. You moan, unable to wait even another minute for him.

“Please,” you cry out, scratching down his chest.

He lines himself up, moaning in ecstasy as he pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a silent whine escaping.

“So big, baby. I should’ve flown out to you the minute you sent me a dick pic. Like a fucking middle schooler.”

Now Harry is laughing. He’s in disbelief that he would ever treat you the way he did. The clarity from the last few days is damning.

His pumps are getting faster and longer, bottoming out every other thrust. He looks down to where you’re connected, your pussy lips wrapped around him deliciously, a slight white substance leaking out of you. He leans down to kiss you, wanting this connection he’s subconsciously wanted since he met you.

“Want you to cum with me, Missy. Cum with me. Want to show you I mean it. I mean everything I said.”

You gently put your hand on his cheek, to which he immediately nuzzles in at the touch.

“I know you mean it, baby. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you again, his thrusts slowing but still ramming you to the hilt.

“You close?”

“Yes, baby boy. Cum with me, I’m cumming now.”

Harry’s cock twitches as he bumps your walls before releasing long and deep into you. You push your noses together, lips ghosting over one another’s.

Harry is finally home.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, little brat.”

He flashes a shit eating grin, kissing you again.

“I expect nothing less.”

And I don't ever Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

#harry styles #harrystyles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x yn #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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youaintnothinbuta · 4 months

Text

“thank you for telling me how you really feel” — willy wonka x reader

Summary: you and Willy go on your little day out date, and later that night share a kiss (or two) ;)

Pairing: Timothée!Wonka x fem!reader

Word count: 544

Warnings: again, disgustingly innocent fluff and maybe some typos

Part one here!

━━━━��━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe that actually works.” You marveled, in awe of his scheme that allows him to slip in and out unnoticed by Ms Scrubbit or Bleacher.

“Of course it does, I’ve been doing it for weeks.” Willy replied with a hint of pride, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You shook your head in disbelief, a laugh escaping your lips. Willy, with a confident flourish, guided you through the charming streets of the town. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as you entered a cozy cafe, the gentle chime of a bell announcing your arrival.

As you sat in the quaint cafe, sipping coffee and exchanging stories, the atmosphere hummed with an undeniable connection between you two. Willy couldn’t help but steal glances at you, his eyes filled with genuine affection.

The day unfolded with a natural ease, the initial nervousness giving way to a comfortable familiarity that hinted at a deeper connection forming between you and Willy. It became evident that this date was more than just a casual outing.

As night fell back at Mrs. Scrubbit’s, you found yourself once again in Willy’s room, a quiet sanctuary full of wonder, that seemed to let you forget about the fact that you were quite literally stuck in this place forever. He handed you a small, heart-shaped chocolate.

“Here, try this one.”

“What does this do?” you asked, eyes searching for clues in his mischievous smile.

“It makes you kiss the chocolatier,” Willy said, his tone playful.

You squinted at him, uncertain of the truth, and popped the chocolate in your mouth. The rich sweetness enveloped your senses, and you sighed with delight as it melted on your tongue. Willy watched with anticipation, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a boldness surprising to Willy, you leaned in, placing your lips against his. Tenderly, he kissed you back, his hand finding your waist.

“Yes!” The moment was interrupted by a cheer from the hallway, and both of you turned to see Noodle, her hand over her mouth in realisation.

“Noodle!” Willy scolded, swiftly closing the door on her grinning face.

“Sorry!” She shouted, before backing off into her own bedroom.

You chuckled, the sound echoing in the room as you shared a moment of laughter at Noodle’s unexpected enthusiasm. Willy, holding your waist, finally confessed, “I lied, by the way. There’s nothing in those chocolates.”

Your smile faltered, cheeks flushing red.

“But thank you for telling me how you really feel,” he added, his smile genuine.

As the laughter subsided, a comfortable silence settled between you and Willy in the dimly lit room. The mischievous glint in Willy’s eyes spoke of a shared secret, a connection that had blossomed unexpectedly. Amidst the hushed atmosphere, Willy leaned in once again, his lips meeting yours in another soft, lingering kiss.

As you pulled away, the room seemed to hold the echo of that shared kiss. Willy’s eyes met yours, and in that silent exchange, an understanding passed between you two. It was a chapter in the midst of unfolding.

“Goodnight, Willy,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

With one last stolen glance, you retreated into the hallway, leaving Willy’s room and the intimate atmosphere behind.

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flowwsblog · 4 months

Text

You’re so warm—

a/n; I’m new to the community soo please don’t be too harsh on me 😭😭 (But I need the feedback anyways). Also this fic is going to be pretty long for my first, (it being in two parts lol) but enjoy!!

Timothee!Willy wonka x f!Reader

Summary: in which reader has trouble falling asleep and runs into a certain someone. What could happen?

Warnings: pure fluff 😊

You had been working at the ‘laundry covered prison’- as you and noodle had called it- for a couple years now.

You had gotten there same as everyone, looking for a cheepy place to stay in this economy; and failed to read the fine print. So there was obviously something suspicious going on.

Worse led to worse as Mrs. Scrubbit had enslaved you (which is how you saw it) and forced you to do laundry work. Along with all the other fellow workers/people trapped in the dusty basement.

You befriended each one of them as time went by, not having any other choice. But being the second youngest one there; noodle was the first one you immediately grew close too.

And one day while scrubbing some old laundry, you heard a yell. Well everyone did.

Everyone’s attention shot towards the clothing shute, where a lanky, frightened looking young man had been thrown down.

____________

Ever since that day, your life couldn’t have been more interesting. The man, whose name you learned was Willy Wonka, was the most amazing human you had ever met. He was a magician, chocolatier, and humungous dreamer. What better man to sweep you off your feet?

But welcoming a handsome new guest meant bunking with someone else. Mrs. Scrubbit did not want the fuss of fixing up a new bedroom, leading to Mr. Wonka inhabiting your old room.

You loved noodle, she was like a little sister to you, so you did not complain in the slightest to sharing a room with her.

_____________

One night, you couldn’t sleep. You grabbed a thin blanket and wrapped it around your lightly trembling body. You made sure noodle was wrapped sorta-snug in the worn out bed before descending from the room.

Your thin loafers tapped the cold wooden floor lightly, wandering down the hall to the bathroom. As you walked by a certain door, your steps faltered, but soon continuing its journey to the wash room.

You and wonka has become close friends, similar to the friendship of yours and noodles, but being closer age wise made things different. You hadn’t talked to a boy your age since grade school, so having a male presence now made you exceedingly nervous.

Upon becoming comfortable with Willy, his presence had started to take a toll on you. Butterflies erupting when he would get particularly close. Or breath faltering when he would just, be in the room? You were confused. Maybe it was his shiny, chocolate colored curls or his full green eyes that lured you towards him. But whatever it was, you were hooked.

You closed the door and turned on the light, eyes squinting from the brightness; your handing coming up to shield them.

You turned on the sink and splashed water on your face. The water being cold not helping. You just wiped your face and turned off the light; heading out. This trip definitely helped.

As you opened the door you see another door opening. Expecting noodle’s small body to come out and ask why you left. Instead you get a taller, handsomer is that a word, man leaving his room. Rubbing his eyes softly.

You sigh, ‘What great timing!’, You think sarcastically to yourself. You carefully approach him and smile.

“Hi y/n” he hums with a sleepy smile. Which makes your stomach flutter. “What ya’ doin up so late?”

“Oh nothing, I can’t sleep. And you?” You turn to face him, studying his defined cheekbones and messy curls. Beautifully misplaced from sleep.

“Hm, I heard something and thought it was the little orange man coming to steal my chocolate again. But I’m glad it was you.” Your face grew 10 shades of pink at the comment. God, if he knew how he made you feel you would be in such trouble, or worse, jail. You’re glad it was dark or else he would’ve seen your embarrassing reaction. You smiled nonetheless. “Thank you Mr. Wonka”

He smiled at the name, knowing he prefers being called Willy.

“Well I’m gonna get going to my room, it’s cold out here.” You let out a half hearted chuckle and turned to leave, wanting him to stop you so badly. “Good night wil-“

He grabbed your arm gently, as if he was broken from a trance. “Wait y/n.”

You turned your head, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Yes?”

_______________

a/n; that’s part 1 guys 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I already have an idea in which part 2 will be posted so stay tuned! It’ll be soon :) 👐 thank you for reading!! Don’t forget to leave notes💞

#wonka #wonka imagine #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #wonka 2023

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mypimpademia · 8 months

Text

— Croissants, Cookies, & Coffee

Pro Hero! Bakugo x Cafe Worker! Black! Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Jagged edged pro hero Dynamight begins to show up to his local cafe just a little too much.

TW: Swearing

“Next in line, please,”

Customers and passerby’s gawked a the man you only smiled politely at. His tall, hulking figure towered over everyone, sticking out like a sore thumb, and his reputation did nothing to help the attention. He seemed tense about it all, the prolonged stares irritating him to no end. But seeing you unfazed, warm lights glowing on your brownskin, gave him some sort of grounding.

“Good afternoon Mr. Dynamight. Should I ring up your usual, or would you like to try one of our new items?” The words fell off your glossed lips so casually, as if you weren’t speaking to the most powerful man in Japan.

“Don’t call me that,” he snarled. “It’s policy,” you said in unison with him, his eyes rolling in annoyance as he kissed his teeth.

“I don’t give a shit about policy, you know what to call me,” he told you, before humming in thought. “I’ll try that fuckin’ peach shit, but only if you make it for me.”

“One pretty peach refresher,” you said, smiling whilst typing the order into the screen in front of you. “What size?”

“Large, and that’ll be all,” he said, reaching into his pockets for his wallet as he mumbled to himself. “Fuckin’ pretty peach refresher, who the fuck comes up with these names?”

You stifled a laugh, lips curling inward. He swiped his card on the reader before you could even tell him the price, huffing as he put his wallet away.

“Thank you, I’ll bring your order over as soon as it’s done,” you chimed.

Swapping places with one of your coworkers, you took on drinks for the moment. To anyone who didn’t know better, you were only doing this because if someone like the explosive pro hero Dynamight says, you do. And in a way, they weren’t wrong.

But your drinks are the only ones he’ll take. Hell, that’s the only time he takes anything, even the pre made baked goods, anything else gets sent back. Your coworkers were convinced your quirk had some magical touch aspect to it. How the hell could he tell if a cappuccino was made by you or not?

A scoop of ice, a cup of dehydrated peach, a cup of peach juice, some water, and a blend later, his order was ready. As you approached, his attention was turned towards the window, simply watching as people and cars passed.

“Katsuki,” you uttered, handing the drink over. “Enjoy your pretty peach refresher.”

Your emphasis on the three words made him roll his eyes again, but you didn’t miss the smile he covered with his cup as he took a sip.

For months, that’s how your interactions went. If you ever asked Katsuki why he progressed passed this in the manner he did, he’d be far to ashamed to say.

Sure, he made nearly daily visits, sometimes coming twice a day. Once in the morning, and then again on the way back home. But his visits soon became erratic, as if he was going for reasons he didn’t want anyone to know.

“Good morning, Katsuki,” you hummed, placing his plate in front of him. “One eggs, ham, and cheese croissant sandwich for you.”

You walked away too fast to see it, only focused on getting through the morning rush of people. Had you stayed a second longer, you’d have caught him watching the morning sun illuminate your features.

That was his first visit of the day. You knew he’d be back soon, as he’d been coming more frequently, just not as soon as he did.

“Since when did you guys have cookies?” The blond asked, nodding over to the display of baked goods.

“Always,” you told him. “I can ring them up for you if you wanna try?”

“Only if you bring them to me,” he smirked.

The aroma of warm chocolate chip cookies had you salivating as you walked them over to his usual window booth. You needed to remind yourself to steal some before clocking out.

“Here are your cookies. And this is your second time back in,” you checked the clock. “Six hours? You beat your record from last time.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki asked, fake surprised at his own timing as he bit into a cookie, humming in satisfaction.

“Yeah,” you smirked, running your hand over pulled back coils to make sure your hair was still neatly in its bun. “Were you hungry or did you just miss me?”

You were standing just feet away from him, and even now he missed you.

“Fucking starving,” he teased, making you kiss your teeth. “You just happen to make all the shit I like.”

You raised your eyebrow in amusement, bearing your teeth in a glossy lipped smile.

“Oh? Like the cookies I only put onto a plate for you?” You asked, pointing to the now empty plate.

“It’s just different when you put it on a plate,” he shrugged.

“Right, right,” you nodded. “Gotta get back to work, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Katsuki came back just two hours later.

“Y’know, I was joking before, but this is getting concerning,” you huffed, placing the mug of coffee onto the table. “This is your third time back, and you were here just two hours ago. And who orders coffee at noon?”

Unbotheredly, he takes a sip from his coffee and says nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you huffed.

You folded your arms over your chest, annoyed that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer. Something was obviously bothersome him, and he was itching to get it off his chest.

“Don’t get me mad on shift Katsuki,” you said sternly. “What’s actually going on.”

“Honestly? I just missed you,” he shrugged.

You were just ready to go off on him, but he sounded so genuine that you held your tongue. This was far from your usual dynamic, and the sudden shift had you at a loss for words

“You free after work?”

—

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space-invading-pigeon · 2 years

Text

Steve came home from work one day pissed as hell. His coworker had made three of his little ones cry, the service dog that was supposed to visit the long-term patients was cancelled last minute, Dustin texted him to cancel their weekly phone call because he and Suzie were fighting, Hopper had to postpone his monthly check-in because El caught a stomach bug at school, and Mrs. Ryans stopped him in the lobby to tell him that she's praying his "no good devil worshipping roommate" received the damnation he supposedly deserves.

So Steve burst into his home, fuming, face flushed red in his anger, and startled poor Eddie out of his armchair. "I called Mrs. Ryans a stupid old hag and I'm not apologizing!" He announced, practically throwing his shoes into their proper place. "She's stupid and I hope she breaks her other hip."

Eddie started his usual task of making brownies (he's a firm believer that chocolate can make anything better, and he knows that Steve's got an almost pavlovian response to the smell of brownies now) while Steve changes out of his scrubs and into something more comfortable. He'd completely bypassed his own closet, instead stealing one of Eddie's prized Iron Maiden tees to go with his threadbare pajama bottoms. Eddie opened his mouth to ask what had happened that day to make Steve so upset, but Steve didn't let him.

"Seriously, why does she hate you so much? You're like the sweetest person ever. So I told her to stop talking shit about you, and she was like, 'why should I,' so I told her that my baby sister would slap the wig off her bald little head if she kept being shitty to my boyfriend, and I might have actually given her a heart attack. Should we go check on her?" Eddie froze at Steve's admission; first of all, a baby sister?? But, more pressing, boyfriend. "Oh, my god, I might have killed our elderly neighbor. El wouldn't actually slap her! Wait, yes she would. She's still learning social norms and I don't think Hop told her that hitting old people is frowned on. I don't- does Hop know not to hit old people? Eddie, my dad might abuse the elderly."

"Stevie, honey, slow down," he finally settled on. Eddie bypassed their little dining table to sit Steve on the couch. "One thing at a time. Mrs. Ryans is not dead, we'd have heard all the munchkins singing by now."

"I'm not going to prison for shocking our neighbor to death, Eddie, I'd rather be melted into a giant flesh monster," Steve piped up. Eddie didn't have time to unpack whatever that meant, so he ignored it.

"You're talking about your sister like she's not used to humans."

"She's not, really. She was ex- she was, um, bad home life. Before we met. She's Hopper's daughter now, but before, her dad fucked her up. Like, doomsday, raise the children in isolation, fucked up." Steve was marginally calmer, but his anger gave way to nerves as everything he'd said caught up with him. "I called you my boyfriend."

"Good to know you've got beauty and brains, sweetheart," Eddie cooed at him, smacking an exaggerated kiss to his cheek. "Not every day I have such a cute guy screaming at old ladies for me."

"J-just the one old lady. You're not mad I called you my boyfriend?" Eddie paused there, giving Steve the flattest stare he could manage.

"Steve. I've been flirting with you for two years. Bruce has been trying to get me to propose to you for one of those two years."

"Bruce just had a baby, he should worry about-"

"Bruce tried to explain to you that we're dating and you called him a funny guy, honey. Congrats, you're the last to know."

"We're dating?" Steve shrieked, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh. Steve's face was so incredulous, like he really had no idea, and as sad as it was to see that, it was just too funny to Eddie that they'd been dating in almost every sense for more than a year before Steve seemed to be aware of it. "Are you telling me I could have kissed you this whole time?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. Stevie, you really didn't know? I thought it was obvious how much I love you, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson #eddie and steve #roommates au #the party #here's how they get together #as a lil treat #because im going to make them suffer later

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strawberriescherrieskiwi · 7 months

Text

Successor

Requests by @auranightangle

Here is a link to the request but it is full of spoilers so I suggest reading the fic first.

Wordcount: 7.8K+

Masterlist

Description: Willy is excited to finally meet the ticket finders and his future successor, but as the past collides with the present maybe he will find something even more important.

A/N: Ah it is finally here. And it only took over two months. I don't know why this fic was so hard to write. I suppose the request was so thought out I didn't know how to make it my own, but after quitting writing and coming back I am pleased with it. I definitely want to do a part two, maybe some past smut with Wonka and the reader who is the past lover.

Warning: Angst. Frantic and manic Wonka. DadWonka. Slight fluff. Mention of abuse. Fic is in the third person from Wonka's POV mostly. Lots of flashbacks.

“Big Day, Big Day, Big Day,” Willy repeated over and over as he got dressed with the help of the Oompa-Loompas. “Massive day indeed. I need to be at my absolute best. Need to make a good first impression of my future successor,” he continued to rant to himself.

He was nervous. How could he not be nervous he was letting people into his factory; It was like letting people into his head into his heart. It’s been over a decade, and he wanted to keep it that way, but he wouldn’t be young forever. As much as he wished he could do this forever, he learned a long time ago that nothing lasts forever.

“Okay, Mr. Wonka, I have a wonderful idea for you.” His love said walking into his workspace.

His attention was immediately given to her “What is it my taffy twist?” He asked. Always happy to hear one of her ideas.

She giggled at his chosen nickname. It always seemed to change, but the theme was always the same, a candy of some sort. But she never minded. “So. I was thinking of everlasting gobstoppers. Think about it, never getting any smaller. Changing flavors, the longer you have it. And while it might not be the best selling, it will be nice for children from poorer homes. A piece of candy to have almost forever. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Willy stood from his chair, humming lowly as he tapped his chin in thought. She stared at him with wide hopeful eyes, rocking on her heels waiting for his thoughts. This was something they always did when one had an idea about a new candy.

He hid his smirk at her eager attitude and began walking in circles around her. When she started humming sadly, he grabbed her hands and gave them two quick squeezes.

“My chocolate delight that is the best idea I have ever heard.” He replied, smiling widely.

A similar smile broke out on her face, then she threw herself into his arms. Willy caught her around the waist and spun her around the room. “Oh Willy, you had me so worried. I thought my little heart was going to burst out of my chest.”

Willy giggled kissing her sweetly. “Nonsense, my candy cane, your heart is always safe with me around,” he said, causing her heart to flutter in her chest and warmth to pool in her cheeks.

She leaned forward and pressed another loving kiss to his lips. “Your sweet words have gotten you out of this one, Mr. Wonka.”

“Like my candy, I am always overflowing with sweetness and especially for you, my lovebug,” he said, stroking her cheek lovingly.

“Ah, that is not a candy. What gives, Willy, losing your touch?” she teased.

“Never, just distracted,” he whispered, kissing her.

“Good morning starshine. The Earth says hello,” Willy grinned at all the children and their parents standing in front of his factory.

He scanned the faces of them all, trying to see if maybe they were here to steal his recipes. Each parent looked ranged from bored to excited to alarmed, all things he could handle.

He then moved his eyes to the children. He had to keep a look off his face when he saw some of them, the ones that he knew would not be fit for his factory, too spoiled brats that would run his company into the ground.

One little girl about 12 years old is alone and Willy narrows his eyes slightly. “You there, little girl? Where are your parents?”

She was startled when she gained his attention, but she didn’t let that lack of a guardian scare her. “Ah, the guardian seemed optional, as it mentions it is to keep us in order, but I can assure you disorder is something I heavily frown upon, thus bringing a guest seemed like more of a burden for you, Mr. Wonka.”

She framed it as if she were doing him a favor but, in truth, she was alone because, well, she was just alone. She had no guardian to stay with her. Her aunt only took care of her for the money, the father was gone, and her dear mother would be here if she could be.

“No taste for disorder, you say,” Wonka said, moving closer to her.

“No taste at all. The only taste I have is for chocolate and knowledge from a great chocolatier,” she replied.

“Knowledge to steal?” He asked.

“Knowledge to learn from. I like making sweets myself, it’s a hobby of mine I used to do so with my mother,” she corrected, not going into too many details.

Willy regarded her for a few moments. Something about her seemed familiar, something reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite pull the memory of who. With a shrug, he tightened his hold on his cane before addressing the whole group.

“Well, it is 10:03. We are behind schedule, so let’s not have any more delays if you all follow me,” and without waiting, he started walking only to pause glancing at the girl. “You child stay close to me, I’ll look out for you,” and then he started walking away.

She quickly jogged to be next to him with everyone else trailing behind them.

“My name is Lollie, by the way,” she said once she was next to him.

“I don’t see why I should know that” he commented not sparing her another glance.

After the introductions in the front room and dropped their coats and they were off to see the first room. Lollie glanced back at all the other children and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Awful children, she could just tell from looking at them and she saw most of their television interviews. They were here for selfish reasons, but thing again, so was Lollie. She wanted to learn and tour the factory because making chocolate and making candy made her feel closer to her mother.

“I’m Charlie,” one of the boys said approaching her.

“I know we just introduced ourselves, but I’m Lollie,” she laughed.

“Right right. I just wanted to introduce myself to you. Everyone seems to be…” He trailed off.

“Horrid?” she suggested.

Charlie laughed but nodded in agreement. “That wasn’t the world I was thinking but it works. I worked over to one and she just held up her hand and said, ‘Poor next’.”

Lollie gasped. “Awful. I think horrid was too nice a word for her,” she said. Lollie came from money, but that had nothing to do with who she was as a person. She was born into a family with money, but she still knew kindness and manners. To not speak to someone because of their financial situation was mental in her opinion.

“Everyone listens up,” Willy said calling everyone to attention. He stood in front of a door, buzzing with excitement. “Our first room is my favorite room in the factory,” he said pausing to open the door and let everyone in.

“This is the chocolate room and everything in this room is edible. Even I am edible, but that is called cannibalism and frowned upon, children.”

Lollie snorted at his comment. And Willy looked her way smiling, then he turned back to the group. “Now I will give you some time to explore and try out some things,” he said before walking away.”

She quickly chased after him having some questions. “Mr. Wonka, I have some questions, do you mind answering them.”

“I don’t mind, but the question type will depend on the answers.” He said, grabbing an apple, but when he bit into it, it was chocolate and marshmallow.

She gasped as if he had performed a magic trick and clapped. “Wow, you are brilliant.”

He chuckled. “The Brilliance is in the mind of the imaginative, the young, the dreamers.”

“Then I am even more brilliant than you are, Mr. Wonka,” she concluded.

He laughed again nodding. “I believe that is so. Should I be asking you questions then?”

“Of course, maybe I can you an idea or two,” she grinned.

“Ladies and Gentlemen and everyone in between. My name is Willy Wonka and I have something important to say. Not to just say but give. Have you ever had a craving for a piece of candy only to realize it doesn’t exist? Well, I have that candy, the non-existent, now exists. Who would like to be the first one to try it out?”

“Oh, I would very much like to try it out. The candy we have all dreamed of is now a reality.” A voice said from the back of the small crowd. The crowd parted and a woman stepped forward. Willy's mouth ran dry when he saw her. She was the most breathtaking person he had ever laid eyes on. Up until now he wanted nothing in this world but to make chocolate, but now he wanted to know her.

“Y-yes-” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am come this way. And taste the taste of dreams.”

She was skeptical but also highly intrigued and eager. She grinned widely and stood in front of him. He smiled back warmly and held out his hand and she quickly placed hers in his. Willy placed the candy in her hand in a moment that felt far more intimate than it should have.

“Now, close your eyes and taste,” he whispered to her.

She looked from the candy in her hand to him. After getting an encouraging nod, she closed her eyes, turned to face the crowd, and put the candy in her mouth. The crowd and Willy held their breaths as they waited to see what would happen.

“Oh,” she said, quietly before a full-blown grin took over her face. She opened her eyes, “It’s brilliant. The best candy I have ever had. Something from a dream,” she said in awe.

Willy smiled and she looked at him in wonder. He wished to say something else to her. Something that would make her laugh or like him. His palms felt sweaty in a way they never had before, but quickly people were in front of him begging to try this candy, shouting over, and pushing toward him.

He tried to look over their heads to see her, but she was slowly moving to the back of the crowd, she caught his eyes and smiled widely at him. Willy's heart quickened and he tore his eyes away starting to take orders and give samples, but the woman never left his mind.

“Mr. Wonka,” Lollie said, worriedly when it seemed he had slipped away.

Willy blinked a few times pulling himself from the memory of his youth and smiled at her as if nothing happened. “Sorry about that. Lost in thought, dear Lollie.”

“It’s okay. My mother used to do that a lot. I suppose it is another trait of brilliancy,” she said grabbing a leaf off a tree and popping it in her mouth. “Wow. I’ve eaten your sweets my whole life, but I can never get over the first taste.”

“Ah, that is all by design. A dear friend of mine once gave me the idea to add a bit of a secret ingredient to all my treats. At the very end, I personally, by hand, add it to each of my treats before it is sent off to packaging.”

“Really?” she asked. “What is it?”

“The keyword is secret there. I think you missed it,” he grinned smugly, tapping her nose slightly.

“Can you answer a question for me then, Mr. Wonka, don’t worry your chocolate secrets will be safe?”

Nodding once Willy stared at her expectedly. “Now when it comes to your roasting process for your cocoa beans, how long do you roast them and how do you do it?”

Willy raised an eyebrow at her question. He was not expecting a question about the process of making chocolate. No one is ever interested in the beginning process. “How old are you?” He asked.

“12,” she replied.

“Well, the roasting depends on how you want the chocolate to be, the ending form is important and should be known from the moment you start cleaning the beans. It is not one size fits all.”

As he spoke Lollie nodded pulling out a notepad and taking notes of everything he said. She asked a lot more questions throughout the day about the perfect temperature for her namesakes and the best place to order ingredients from.

Willy was more than expressed by her and enjoyed having someone to talk to about his processes and the best things about making chocolate. He missed the joy of sharing his ideas and processes with someone who cared and found them enjoyable.

As the other children slowly gave in to their vices Lollie stuck close to Charlie and Willy. “You know, Violet wasn’t turning violet. I thought she was more indigo, no?” she whispered to Charlie who covered his mouth to hold in his laughter.

“ Maybe a cross between Indigo and Violet,” Willy added as he passed by the two of them.

“Perhaps, but I don’t think I’ll ever have blueberry pie without thinking of her.” She giggled quite happy the rude girl was given her just desserts.

Lollie hoped all the other rotten children met the same end, except for Charlie. He quickly became her best friend. It was strange as they met today, but she didn’t have many friends, in fact, she had none. Yet, while coming from different worlds, they both understood each other and shared a love of adventure and, of course, chocolate.

“Charlie, what do you think the end prize will be?” Lollie asked as they all moved into the nut-sorting room.

“I don’t know. I hope it is something that will take care of my family, but I would happily lose to you,” he said, whispering back.

She smiled and grabbed his arm giving it a little squeeze. “Nonsense, if I were to win, I would just forfeit to ensure you do. Meeting you and touring the factory is enough for me.”

Charlie flushed at her words and quickly caught up to everyone else to stand next to his grandfather. Confused, she shrugged and stood next to Wonka, eyes widening when she took in the squirrels.

“What a brilliant way to get the nuts. Did you know that Squirrels almost always get the nuts out perfectly? Well, of course, you would know that it’s why you use them,” she said, excitedly.

“Well, aren’t you full of knowledge? I was just explaining that same thing to the group, Gold Star,” he said, patting her on the head.

When Veruca started to demand one of Wonka’s squirrels Lollie rolled her eyes and watched as she climbed under the rope. She wouldn’t say she was someone that enjoyed other people’s misery but watching the Squirrels attack her was one of the highlights of the day.

“A rotten nut all around,” she said to Willy, both of them trying to hide their laughter.

“Ah, but the tree that waters the nut has something to do with that,” Willy added, watching as Veruca’s father walked away. “Maybe a trip will do them both some good.” He was just as relieved that Veruca was gone as Lollie was. He liked children, for the most part, but the ones here were the worst of the bunch besides Lollie and poor boy.

Crowding into the elevator Lollie and Charlie both gasped as they passed through rooms, she wished they could explore more. Mike on the other hand was being grumpy and trying to ruin the whole mood.

She could tell from all the comments that Wonka made that he also did not enjoy the boy and she hoped he would fall prey to his own flaws like the rest of them.

“This room seems stupid. The whole idea of candy is stupid,” Mike groaned.

“It isn’t stupid. Candy is the only magic in the world, so of course the room would be about magic and the unimaginable because that is what candy is,” She finally snapped back to him.

Willy quickly turned to her at her words. “Candy is a dream made real,” he mumbled before getting lost in another memory.

“You are just wow. So amazing. Candy is a dream, a dream made real. I’ve always thought that. Having a piece of a sweet treat can feel like the best day. It can make your day, but your candy, Mr. Wonka is next level.” The women gushed to Willy as they walked arm and arm down the waterside.

He was forever grateful that the beautiful woman stuck around after all his samples and orders were placed. While he was happy that it looked like his dream was finally taking off, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

And then she was there. Sitting on the curb waiting for him. She expressed her admiration for him and her shared love of chocolate and sweets. It was an instant connection between the two of them and he was glad that she felt it too.

“What about you? You said you are working on candy creations as well. You could put me out of business before I even start,” he chuckled, patting her arm.

She flushed ducking her head. “Oh, that is exceedingly kind of you to say, but mine are going to stay dreams. My father does not believe candy making is a good enough job for his daughter. Though, I suppose no job will be,” she frowned sadly, and he needed to cheer her up.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed both of her arms and dragged her towards the water. “You know, I get my best ideas after a quick dip,” he said.

“In that water? It has to be freezing,” she said, laughing.

“That’s why I keep my clothes on, it’s just a refreshing dip,” he grinned taking off his shoes and socks and walking closer to the water.

“You are mad, Mr. Wonka,” she laughed but followed suit taking off her shoes.

“Aren’t all of the best people, gumdrop?” He winked at her and took her hand. She grinned giving him a tight squeeze back. “One the count of three, One, two, three,” he shouted before they ran into the water.

It was beyond freezing but they both laughed unabashedly, dunking themselves underwater and then huddling closer together for warmth. “Well, no one can ever say you are dull, Willy,” she giggled pushing some of his wet hair out of his face and behind his ear.

Willy burned bright red despite the freezing water. “No no. I suppose I am not known to be dull,” he said, shyly.

She chuckled, “Then we are going to have lots of fun together.”

“Mr. Wonka, are you okay?” Mike’s father asked pulling his son closer.

Willy blinked a few times before looking at everyone. “Never better, now off to the next room.”

“You seemed to be having a lot of… moments, does that happen a lot?” He asked.

“Not too often, but it’s increased significantly today,” Wonka said, looking at Lollie for a moment before ushering everyone out of the elevator.

Soon, like Lollie hoped, Mike’s hubris got the best of him and then it was only her and Charlie. She was only understanding what was happening. Wonka had to be testing them and the last kid standing would get this prize.

She looked at Charlie. He excitedly walked back to the elevator with his grandfather. He told her this was the best day of his life and from the little bit he did share about his life, it’s been a hard one.

“Mr. Wonka,” she said making up her mind.

“Yes, Lollie,” Willy said giving her his attention.

She didn’t want to seem overconfident, but she felt like she was going to be the last one standing, or at least if things came down to Willy just picking them, she thought he would choose her, she was the only one whose name he bothered to remember and use.

“I don’t want your prize,” she said, crossing her arms trying to be bratty and annoying like the other children.

Willy frowned at her. “Are you sure? You haven’t even heard it yet. And I think you will love it.”

“I am sure. I had my fun. I learned some things, but I am disappointed actually. Slugworth’s factory was better.”

Willy’s eyes widened but narrowed. “The winner gets my factory. They will become my successor.”

Her eyes widened and she had to quickly school her features. She wanted nothing more than to get to work with one of the most brilliant minds and do what she loved but, with a glance at Charlie, she knew he needed it more.

“That’s swell and all, but Charlie is your winner, not me,” Lollie said.

“Then, I’ll have someone show you out, Miss Lollie,” he said, taking off his hat and bowing before an Oompa-Loompa took her hand and walked her outside.

Willy frowned as he watched her leave. Charlie would be a good successor. He had the love and the passion, but she had the same sparkle that he only saw once before.

“Willy,” she giggled pushing his face away from her neck. “We are supposed to be working,” she added.

“I am working. We are working,” he said, adding little kisses to her neck.

“Really, then what do you call this?” She countered.

“A reward sweeter than sugar?” He questioned. Causing her to laugh and pull him closer kissing him.

“I am so immensely proud of you. Willy Wonka the proud owner of his own factory. I told you that you would have your own. That your dreams were like sugar, just waiting to be spun into a reality.”

Willy smiled widely at her. He loved her. There was no doubt in his mind. From the moment he saw her all those years ago in the crowd, from the walk in the park that turned into daily walks. To the late-night idea-sharing and dinners. She was his person.

His father was a different man after his mother died and now, he understood why, when you met your soulmate, it was all-consuming he couldn’t imagine life without her. Together they worked hard to follow their dreams and now he had a factory, and he would ask her to marry him.

“It is all thanks to you, my sugar plum. I couldn’t do any of this without your help. This is just as much your factory as it is mine.” Willy cupped her cheek and kissed her softly.

She melted against his lips, kissing him back with just as much love. “My father would have a heart attack if you said that to him,” she chuckled.

“Your father needs to see you for who you are,” he said, pulling her onto his lap and pushing a strain of fallen hair behind her ear. “The genius, innovative person you are, my lovely Pixie Stix,” he said, kissing her cheek.

She smiled sadly. “I don’t need him or anyone else to see me, you see me and that is all that matters.”

“The world should see it. Your talents, your passion it’s unrivaled.”

“Now you are just being too sweet, Willy. I have nothing on you. You are my muse without you, my partner in candy, and in life, I am nothing,” she giggled, kissing his nose.

“You have a sparkle like no one else, my sweet tart, and I have something I want to say to you, actually something I want to ask,” he said nervously.

She frowned, “Are you all right, my love?”

“Never better. In fact, I could be a bit better in a few seconds if yo-“ The door opened and the two of them instantly separated when her father walked in.

“You are coming home with me right this instant,” he said grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him.

She protested and tried to pull away. “Hey let her go,” Willy said.

“And you, stay away from my daughter if you know what’s good for you. This factory can go away with just one visit to the bank. You leave my daughter.”

She was sobbing now and so was Willy. “Please, I love her. I can make a good husband. I can take care of her, don’t take her away,” he begged.

“You and your factory are not good enough for my daughter.”

“Father please, I love him,” she begged, her voice catching only making Willy more heartbroken. The ring burning in his coat pocket.

“Enough. You are forbidden to see him.” And then her father dragged her way. She looked back at Willy, her eyes full of sorrow and pain.

“Mr. Wonka. What are you doing here?” Lollie asked.

Willy smiled at the girl. “Well, after you so rudely insulted my factory, I thought I owed it to you for a better tour.” He replied.

She looked out into her yard. “How did you get here? You don’t have a car?”

“Ah, well you missed the best part when you left. My glass elevator also flies,” he grinned.

“Really?” She said running down the steps of her house. “Where is it? Where is it? I must see this,” she said excitedly.

Willy chuckled as she ran smack into his elevator. Something he’s done too many times since creating it. “I should put a sign or something to stop that from happening,” he said as he walked over to her and checked her over. “It seems nothing is broken. Hopefully, you didn’t knock some innovative ideas out,” he teased.

“Oh, you would like that, that way you won’t have to compete with me one day in business,” she grinned getting into the elevator.

“There is nothing wrong with good competition as long as you don’t plan to steal my recipes.”

“Never.”

“Good, then I welcome the day,” he said getting into the elevator and pressing the fly button.

Lollie pressed her face close to the glass as they rose higher. “You truly are a genius, Mr. Wonka.”

“A true genius, Willy. I will never get over your amazing brain,” she gushed as they ate dinner in his small flat. It wasn’t much and he used to be insecure about it, but she never said anything horrible. She just enjoyed being around him.

Willy blushed at her words. “You are too sweet, my peppermint patty. It was a joint effort from us both. You were the one that made batch after batch, tasting, and perfecting the recipe with me.”

His newest candy had changed the game for him. His tiny shop was about to grow into the factory he always dreamed of. His candy would be shipped all over the world and his dream will be a reality.

It was her turn to flush. “I am just happy to help you, my love,” she said.

He smiled softly, kissing her hand. “You are more than happy. You inspire and create with me. My truest partner.”

The word partner had them both flushing and turning to their food. It’s been a few years since they first met and they have been a couple for over a year, but still very shy about subjects of marriage and forever.

They both wanted it, but there was a barrier stopping them. Her father would never allow it. And Willy wanted to have enough money to be able to take care of them and their future children. He didn’t want her to give up her life to struggle with him.

Coughing unsubtly Willy stood up. “I have a gift for you, my sugar plum.”

“A gift? Willy, you don’t have to buy my gifts. Spending time with you is more than enough.”

“Oh, pish posh. I just received a long sum from the newest candy, which you helped make, so of course, I got you something. Now I’ll be right back,” he said, already walking away. “Oh. And close your eyes.”

“Of course, Mr. Wonka,” she teased closing her eyes. She could admit to herself she was slightly excited to see what he got for her. She tapped her fingers on her thighs in anticipation.

Willy couldn’t help but grin goofily when he saw her impatiently waiting for him. She was just too darling, and he loved her with his whole being. He silently moved closer, leaning down until he was in front of her face.

“Willy are you th-“ she was cut off as he kissed her swiftly and sweetly.

She gasped and he giggled kissing her deeper. Her hands came up to thread through his hair and he grabbed the back of her chair. He kissed her with everything he had in him, wanting to convey just how deeply he loved her.

Her lips moved against his, echoing his words with her lips. They kissed until their lungs begged for air and even then, they waited a few more seconds before gently pulling away.

She slowly opened her eyes blinking up at him. “If that was my present, I take back what I said earlier,” she said softly. Then, as if realizing what she let slip, she flushed.

Giggling wildly Willy leaned down and kissed her once more before shaking his head. “Sorry sugar cane, but that is not the gift, but I hope you still like it,” he said holding up a necklace. “It’s a sugar pop. You said you loved sugar pops best.”

She giggled as she looked at the necklace. A golden chain with a little charm of the candy hanging. “I said I love yours best,” she said happily at him.

“Well, I made this charm with the same love I made in the sugar pops, so it should be the same,” he said.

“I am sure it is,” she grinned.

“Does that mean you like it?” He asked nervously.

“Oh, Willy. I, of course, love it. Anything by you I love, but this is wonderful. You said you made it?” She asked as she let him put it on her.

“Yes, I read a few books on how to make charms and had a bit of trial and error. The chain is of course from the jewelers, but it is a Wonka original for my favorite person. It’s always modeled after my favorite flavor.”

“Why yours?” She asked turning to face him once the charm rested around her neck.

“Well, that is because this necklace has a brother in the form of a bracelet that has your favorite flavor.” Willy held up his wrist where the bracelet sat.

“Oh. This gift is even more wonderful,” she said, standing up and hugging him. “I love it. And I love you,” she said.

“I love you too. Now we will always have a small part of each other when we are apart.” He said, kissing her.

“Mr. Wonka, are you okay?” Lollie asked.

Willy blinked away the memory. He shook his head a few times, trying to will away the painful memories. He hated that they kept coming up. He had fought them away for years, but it seemed the dam had broken them free.

“Mr. Wonka?” Lollie questioned again.

“Oh yes. I am fine. All the best geniuses get a little lost in thought sometimes be warned,” he said, trying to make a joke. And luckily, she laughed. He looked back toward her home. It was large, showing wealth, and he wondered why she was not as horrible as the other wealthy children who came to the factory.

“Where are your parents? Lollie? Should I have asked them first?” He wondered. He wasn’t good with parents, adults, or children. Or people really, but he was sure that he was technically kidnapping her.

“Oh, I don’t have any. Not really,” she said, sadly, taking a seat on the floor of the elevator.

“Oh. Well, that is just awful,” he said, a bit unsure what to do before he joined her. “I lost my mother when I was young, it was especially hard to grow without her. I also had a father that didn’t understand me.”

Lollie felt tears in her eyes and quickly looked towards the sky. “My mother was my best friend. The sweetest woman to ever live. And before you say that everyone says that about their mother. It is true for mine. She loved me and loved the world. She saw it differently from everyone else and it made her so kind, and sweet. I never saw how she married my father.”

Willy frowned in understanding and placed a hand on her shoulder. “When did your mother die?”

“She isn’t dead. At least now yet. My father was not a good man. He didn’t enjoy her unique view of the world and thought to rid her of it in the only way a brutish man knew how. She is currently in hospital.”

Willy's eyes closed as her meaning hit him. No one deserved that. How could anyone marry someone, claim to love them, and then hurt them? And enough to put them in hospital and for their young child. His heart went out to the young girl.

“You have had to grow up faster than anyone needs to, sweet Lollie. I am terribly sorry you have to deal with that. If you want to run away, my factory is home to you.” He couldn’t just let her go back after learning that. He subtly tried to scan her for marks, hoping with her mother gone, she was not her father’s next target.

Lollie smiled softly at his words. “That is a wonderful offer, but my father is gone. My mother’s father made sure I would never have to see him again. He had him sent away to prison. And then my grandfather died, so I was left in the care of my father’s sister. An awful woman, but at least she knows that all the money belongs to me and is smart enough to leave me be.”

“A terrible hand you have been dealt, but it will get better. I assure you there is a rainbow of Sherbet after a cloud of rain,” Willy said.

Lollie sniffled clutching her mother’s necklace in her fist. “But be warned that a Sherbet overloud causes a freeze to the creative juices,” She finished.

Willy froze. He blinked repeatedly, his chest tightened, and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

When she was gone, Willy had no idea how long he just stood in silence staring at the door. He didn’t know anything; his heart was gone. He felt hollow like he had nothing left in the world. His knee buckled and he was on the floor. Willy was gasping, his throat tightened, and he grabbed his chest.

His ears were ringing, and his face was growing wet. If he didn’t know any better, he would think he was having an allergic reaction to something. Maybe he was. Maybe heartbreak was his allergy.

The ring burned a hole in his pocket, and he cried harder. Quickly, he pulled the ring out of his pocket and stared at the chocolate diamond ring. He knew the ring was the most expensive ring or the most flashes, but he knew she would love it. And now she would never see it.

Willy kissed the ring with shaking hands. And then wiped his tears. He needed to get ahold of himself. He couldn’t just give up on her, she was the love of his life. She was his life, he had to fight for him.

Getting to his feet, he tripped, crashing back onto the floor. He groaned, lying his head on the ground. How was he going to save her though? Her father would never allow them to marry, and he knew how much she loved her family, even if they didn’t offer her the same.

He couldn’t make her pick between the two. It would only make her miserable in the end and that was the last thing he wanted. Defeated, Willy stayed on the floor for hours. Until someone knocked on his door asking if it was okay for the employees to go home.

In his heartbreak, he forgot all about his happiness with his factory, his craft, and his dream. Because while it was still his dream, she was a part of it. Not trying to wipe his face, he got up and opened the door.

“There is a rainbow of Sherbet soon. There is a rainbow of Sherbet soon,” he repeated to himself before walking out of his office. “You have all done wonderful today. Truly I am grateful to each one of you. I think you all earned the rest of the night off. I will see you all tomorrow,” he said.

He watched as they all began shutting down machines and chatting as they gathered their things and left. Willy walked around after everyone was gone, turning off lights and locking up.

Once outside his factory, he stood back and looked up at it. It was his dream, but it felt hollow now. “A rainbow of Sherbet. A rainbow of Sherbet.”

“But be warned that a Sherbet overloud causes a freeze to the creative juices,” a voice said sadly from behind him.

Gasping he turned to see his love and he quickly pulled her into his arms hugging her to him. He cuffed the back of her head and sobbed into the top of her head. “My chocolate delights. I-I. I shouldn’t have let him take you. Oh, I was going to come, but I didn’t want to, your family and love and you and.” He was sobbing too hard to make any sense.

But he didn’t need to, she understood him and sobbed along with him. She wrapped herself around him, sobbing into his chest. They held each other, hoping it would be enough. That their love would be enough for them.

“My father has betrayed me. He has given my hand to someone. Some rich earl’s son,” she sobbed. “He told me if I ran away, he would make sure your factory was shut down. That he would make sure you would never be able to sell anything in the country,” she sobbed, shivering against him.

The snow just hit him. In his sadness, he didn’t feel the cold, at least not the cold from the snow. He quickly ushered them back into the factory and into the living area. He sat her in front of the fireplace and made her the creamiest hot cocoa he could. Something that always made her smile.

But not this time. She took the mug but didn’t smile, just looked sadly into the cup. “He told me to come break your heart. To tell you goodbye and of his threat,” she said, watching as her tears dripped into her drink.

“My sweet,” he whimpered, kneeling in front of her and wiping her cheeks. “His threats mean nothing we can leave if you wish it. To hell with this factory. We can leave, move to America, and start a life there. I am sure I can get enough money selling my recipes and factory to someone here.”

She gasped looking up at him. “No Willy. You cannot. Your recipes are your life’s work. They are your life.”

“No, you are my life.”

“Stop it, Willy. This factory has been your dream your whole life. It is what you’ve been working towards for as long as I’ve known you. I won’t let you give it up for me no. Never. I cannot be selfish.”

“Be selfish and let me do this for you, for us. I do not want the factory if I don’t have the person who helped me build it with me.”

She sobbed harder. “You will grow to hate me if you give up your dream for me. Don’t make me have to see that.”

He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but her fear was the same one he had. He feared her picking him would make her grow resentful of him. The ring still sat in his pocket, and he pulled it out, pressing it into her hand.

She opened her hand and stared down at the ring. A lump grew in her throat and her upset stomach flipped a few dozen times. “Willy….”

“I wished to propose to you earlier. I’ve been thinking about it for years, but I wanted to wait until I was worthy of you-“

“You have always been worthy of me, Willy.”

“-I know, but I have not felt so, but now I know it is not our time to share Sherbert,” he chuckled through his tear-filled eyes and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “But it was brought for you, and you must have it. It is a piece of my heart, and I will never love you as I have loved you. So, you take it.”

She shook her head. “Willy please.”

Neither knew what she was begging for, but he just hugged her to him. They clung to each other as they knew it was going to be the last time. The snow falls hard outside, something grew despite the snow. Something neither of them knew about just yet but was there between them.

The life grew as did the sound of heartbreak between the two of them.

“We will always have our memories,” she whispered, her head resting on his chest.

“And our sugar pops,” he said, touching her necklace.

She smiled sadly, placing her hand over his on her necklace. “Our lollies.”

“Where did you hear that? H-how did you know that?” He asked.

Lollie stared at him confused. “It’s what my mother used to say.”

Willy's eyes moved to the necklace she was clutching in her hands. The necklace that he gave his sweet. The necklace that he gifted her all those years ago. His heart squeezed and without noticing he was crying.

Lollie didn’t notice his tears as she was now staring at the little lollypop charmed and the little chocolate ring that sat next to it. “My mother had a lot of strange sayings like that. This necklace was hers. She wore it every day. I used to play with it when I was a baby and as I grew, I asked her about it. She said she would tell me one day. Tell me about the second greatest love of her life. I always thought that was funny. I assumed it was a gift from my father as a child and didn’t get why she said that. Well, I suppose it is a gift from my father but not the one sitting in prison.”

Willy was going to faint. He was going to faint. “What?” He croaked.

“My mother told me that my father gave her this necklace. When I was eight, she told me that the man she loved most in the world gave it to her and that man was my father. It was not until after her accident, before my grandfather died, I learned the truth. He was talking about what to do with me. He knew he was sick, and he mentioned finding someone to take care of me. His assistant mentioned contacting my father, but my grandfather shut that down. I was confused at first, but it started to make sense. The rotten man in prison wasn’t my father.”

Willy stumbled to his feet and pressed a few buttons on the elevator. He needed to get to the ground. He needed air and he didn’t think it would do either of them good if he just jumped to his death. He couldn’t abandon his daughter.

His daughter.

Their daughter.

He choked on a sob and quickly landed the elevator. He stumbled out and fell to his knees in the grass, only it wasn’t grass. It was snow and he cursed, mentally not out loud his daughter couldn’t hear such language.

“Mr. Wonka is everything okay? Is it a memory again?” She asked, leaning close to him.

“Lollie,” he said softly. “I- I…” He couldn’t get the words out.

“Mr. Wonka? What’s wrong?” Lollie asked now more worried. She moved to her knees in the snow to get a better look at him.

“Your mother… I- I knew her,” he said looking at her. Into her eyes that were so like his own he felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Maybe it was because the color was his, but the shape and the sparkle, it was all his sweettart’s.

“You knew my mother?” She asked.

“I gave her the necklace.”

Lollie froze, staring at him. “You gave her the necklace? That means. That means... you- you-”

“I am him. That you know. The male mother. The the.

Lollie laughed. “My father.”

Willy sighed and dropped face-first into the snow before turning over on his back and staring up at the sky. “Yes.”

“Can I hug you?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

Willy’s eyes widened and he quickly sat up, brushing snow off his clothes. “Yes, of course, come here. My Lollie,” he said, hugging his daughter for the first time. “Oh, my Lollie, I can’t believe you are my daughter. Oh my. I kidnapped my own child and now have her in the snow. You will catch your death,” he said.

Lollie giggled, it was strange seeing this new side of Willy. He was strange, but that came with being as brilliant as he was, but this dad mode was funny.

“Laughing at me, I am worried about you. Into the elevator with you,” he said, pulling them both to their feet brushing the snow off of them, and pushing her towards the elevator.

“Can I call you Dad now?” She asked as they both got in.

Goodness, it hit him again. He was a father. He had an almost teenage daughter. “Of course. And you that aunt of yours is going to get a piece of my mind and we will get you situated with me. Living in the factory will be, okay?”

“It would be a dream,” she said, excitedly. “We can make candy together, right?”

Willy smiled widely at her. “Of course, we can. I used to make candy with your mother all the time.” And then his smile left his face.

His love was currently in hospital because someone put her there when he wasn’t around. He should have fought harder for her. He should have risked her hating him because this was worse.

“How about first we go visit mom?” Lollie suggested.

Willy nodded. “How long has she been… like that?”

“A year.”

“I am sorry, Lollie,” he said. And then he hugged his daughter for a second time and let her cry as the elevator took them to the hospital.

Taglist.

@gatoenlaciudad

@iloveneilperry

@valencia-rou

@s-we-e-t-t-ea

@robertpattins0nswh0re

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka fics #timmy chalamet #dad Wonka #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine

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ashlynredonovitch · 4 months

Text

Secrets In The Street

Warnings: none

Prompt: “basically y/n is a poor girl on the streets and pickpockets/shoplifts to survive, and she does that to willy but he’s super kind to her instead of telling the police on her. Then they fall in love.” - @riordanness (THANK YOU!)

“Come back here you!” A woman’s voice yelled from behind, as you sprint down an alley, a bright, crisp apple in hand from her cart.

You weren’t a runner, not in the slightest, so being chased by a woman for having an apple -well, stealing an apple- wasn’t on your list of things to today. You couldn’t help it, you were hungry. The woman wasn’t even around, you had no clue how she saw you.

You hear the woman groan from behind and turn around just in time to see her give up and walk away. Who knows some other person on the streets could’ve stolen more of her produce.

“Oh well, at least it’s something,” you muttered as you trailed along the darkening alley, holding it carefully so you can keep it safe for later. Walking in the direction towards the bench you spent most nights.

It was obviously nothing special, but no one dared to take your bench. You had a raggedy blanket that you stole from someone a while ago. A little bag with a few things of clothes you found that others had gotten rid of, and that was it.

You had heard of Mrs. Scrubitt's boardinghouse when you first arrived, but initially said no when Bleacher had came up to you. He came to your bench many times, and he eventually stopped insisting after many denials. After everything you had heard through the chain of the Galeries Gourmet, you were glad you hadn’t taken his offer though. At least there was a chance of something out here, better than being stuck in a laundry house for twenty-something years.

Nothing new ever happened in the Gourmet, the same Chocolate Cartel shooing everyone away, you had heard of one man getting through though. Willy Wonka, you had heard of his name. Apparently some magic chocolates? Even though the idea seems preposterous, you were intrigued. You, however, had heard from the gossip that his looks had caught the attention of many along the streets too. So, it apparently wasn’t only the chocolate that had gotten people interested.

Carefully hiding your apple, you started your walk towards the way of the Gourmet, wanting to investigate this new Wonka chocolate yourself.

“It’s certainly grand,” you say, as you walk into the store with the velvety magenta curtains, with a chocolate-looking tree as the centerpiece of the store, “I’m impressed.”

“Hi, I’ve never seen you around here,” a man with a can walked up to you, a top hat on his head, wearing a pleasant smile on his face.

“My name is y/n, y/n l/n, I don’t hang around the Galerie Gourmet much, not really my place of adventure.” You muttered as you look at all of the hanging candy around you, children brushing past you, trying to reach for different sweets.

The man nods his head, as he takes in your appearance, “I get it, I lived on a boat for seven years. My name is Willy, Willy Wonka”

You were not expecting that, he lived on a boat for a while, this interesting looking man who owned this place. You tried to send a brief smile in his direction, “so you’re the one who I heard sent the chocolate-trio to jail, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Wonka looked out the windows, to the places where the old chocolate stores resided in the Gourmet, now empty, as he quickly smirked, “well it had to be done, they were breaking the law, it was just a matter of time.”

You chuckled as you saw the man’s face beam towards a woman and small child who was excitingly grabbing a chocolate bar, “I have to go, it was nice meeting you, y/n.” Wonka said as he smoothly strides over to another family to talk to them.

“Likewise,” you whispered as he was already gone. You felt awful, you wanted to try his chocolate, people here have talked ‘it’s the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted’ many have claimed, and now you wanted a bite. How do you steal from someone who seemed so nice?

The trick to being a pickpocket though, is not getting caught, and you’ve had your own share of the situation going both ways. You quickly grab a little wrapped chocolate and pretend to exam it, glancing to make sure no one else is watching, before quickly stuffing it in your pocket.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, you turned to see if anyone was there, and was met with a small, orange man? You had never seen anyone, if it was a human at all, like it.

“Lofty?” You heard Wonka yell as he came running towards the area your standing in. Bolting quickly, you dodge the running kids and chasing parents, as you try to weave your way to the exit. Just about as you were at the doors, a cane came in front of your middle, stopping your motions rather quickly, “and what do you think you’re doing?” Willy asked, you were close, so close.

“Nothing, I don’t know what that man was talking about, I don’t have anything I promise.” You say as you did a little circle to prove your innocence.

“Why don’t I believe you?” He asked, as an audience formed around you two.

“I don’t know, I didn’t steal anything, Mr. Wonka, I assure you that.” You muttered, wishing everyone would ignore you two, you just wanted to try his chocolate.

“Come with me y/n, we can talk back here.” Wonka guided you towards a room in the back, something that looked like an office of sorts, “I know you took a piece of chocolate.” He sat down in his chair, prompting you to sit down on the one opposite the desk.

You felt defeated, you hadn’t ever actually gotten caught by someone, “I’m sorry.”

Willy quirked his brow as he stared at you across the desk, “so you admit it? Surprised, honestly, I didn’t think you would.”

At that you got upset, “listen I might’ve tried to take chocolate, but I’ve heard everyone talk. People say it’s the best chocolate they’ve ever had. I’ve only had apples or other stolen things to eat for a year and a half. The chocolate cartel knew me well, they would stop me at the door cause they knew I couldn’t pay for it. So do it, call the new chief of police, at least in jail I’ll have a bed.”

Willy stood and put his hands on the desk examining you, transferring his weight, “no.”

“I’m sorry, no?” You were shocked, he caught you stealing and isn’t going to call you in?

“No, there’s something about you. You intrigued me when I first saw you walk in. I’m not going to call the new chief of police. I’m actually going to give you twenty silver sovereigns.” Willy said as he opened the drawer with the money inside of it.

Flabbergasted, shocked, surprised, there weren’t any other words to describe it. You were stealing from him, and now he was giving you money? What kind of man is this? Well…a cute one, but that’s besides the point.

“I can see your shock, my mom raised me well before she passed. If you want to steal a small piece of chocolate, you must be desperate, please take it.” Willy said handing you the sovereigns, a pink flush presenting high upon his cheeks.

“Of all the times to be caught,” you whispered, glancing up in time to seem him removing his coat and hat, “at least it was by someone nice.” A faint blush forming on your cheeks as well.

Willy smiled as he walked around in front of you, “I don’t want you sleeping wherever you are, you can work here, there’s an extra room, we could put a bed in there or something.”

“I can’t believe you’re offering me anything, you could’ve had me arrested.” You told him, examining his brunette curls framing his face for the first time.

“I was taught to help someone in need, and you seem like a good person, you just need a little help. No shame in that, I was caught by Scrubitt and Bleacher when I first arrived. I needed help too. Look at this place, I have more than enough sovereigns to help you out right now.” Willy whispered inching closer to you, as he held out his hand.

Your eyes welled up with tears, no one had been this kind to you in a while, “you have no clue how much this means to me.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay here until I know.” Wonka smiled as he leaned in to press his lips to yours.

Let’s just say, you never had to worry about sovereigns or spend another night on that bench ever again.

#wonka x reader #fanfic #timothée chalamet #willy wonka #wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #i love him #he has my heart #the way he says chocolate itches my brain #chalamet wonka #willy wonka x reader

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bbanghiitomi · 3 months

Text

| haerin sucks!

synopsis: not your average vampire — haerin lives a life working night shifts at an empty convenience store every night until before the sun rises up, she's also got her eyes on a girl whose favorite past time is to pretend she's a vampire's girlfriend.

— nonidol!vampire!khaerin × nonidol!highschool!fem!reader

/⁠╲⁠/⁠\⁠╭⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)⁠╮⁠/⁠\⁠╱⁠\/⁠╲⁠/⁠\⁠╭⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)⁠╮⁠/⁠\⁠╱⁠\/⁠╲⁠/

"hyein what the hell?" haerin slams her hand on the counter as she watches her younger friend walking to the exit of the convenience store with a box of chocolate in her hands, with a disbelief expression — haerin, as if this hasn't been happening multiple times still cannot believe her friend could do such a thing. "what's up?" hyein even gets the courage to turn her whole body around with a smile.

lee hyein is another employee of this store owned by mr. kim taehyung, but unlike haerin, hyein is not a vampire and actually gets to live her life like any other ordinary person, except maybe she's insufferable sometimes. haerin used to do so too, but it's been a long time since she's felt the touch of the sunlight, nor have drank anything other than blood. it doesn't even help the fact that haerin looked like she's never had a bed to sleep on, the bags under her eyes are evident, it's as if it's carrying all the weight in this world. not to mention her pale skin, her lips the color of her cheek, porcelain white and literally no signs of life on her body.

it's only been 5 months since that unfortunate incident she had in this very same convenience store, where her life flashed before her eyes and she came out of the storage room as a different person and a different kind of species that night.

haerin rubs her eyes and glares at hyein. "why are you stealing another box of chocolate?" haerin points at hyein with a frown, brows furrowing and her eyes are barely moving. hyein raises the box with a confused look on her face, as if she doesn't get the idea why haerin would be mad.

"i'm borrowing it..." hyein states, she's always like this, there are times after her shift she doesn't steal but more like take something off the store and promises that she'll pay for it through her salary. no matter how hair says she hates when hyein does that, she had never snitched and told mr. kim taehyung, instead she takes an amount of money from hyein's salary and brings it back to the shop's money.

haerin puts a hand on her face, rubbing her forehead before sighing. "hyein — " she stops, looking up at hyein with a glare. "just watch out, goddamn it. if mr. kim taehyung finds out about this i'm dead." haerin grumbles, thinking about how horrible the store's owner is. he's so selfish! not only is he a notorious gambler, he is also very evil and takes his anger out on his minions a.k.a. the innocent people he turned into vampires.

technically, it's not him who turned haerin into one of his kind — but his sister, kim minji, that evil prick. haerin remembers that night, in this same convenience store. she was just a hopeless teenager who is trying to find a part time job, with her papers she carried them with her soul in this convenience store only to get bitten by a rabies infested younger kim. that asshole lied about it being a requirement, saying it had to be done and haerin couldn't be more regretful about everything.

now she's stuck inside this hellhole forever. with a grumpy evil owner, and a tall teenage girl.

great, just how great it is.

"he won't! he's like always away and it's not like you'll tell him, right?" hyein clutched the door, looking at haerin with begging eyes that she couldn't say no to.

"damn it, alright. just go!" haerin looks away and grumbles, watching hyein flee with stolen goods and she watches the taller girl disappear under the dark skies.

then there's the annoying, good for nothing customers — for a bunch of people who purchase nothing but the cheapest thing in the store, they do sure talk a lot. haerin hates this the most about her job, other than being a weak, fragile, coward, and awkward vampire — she's also terrible at customer service, she hates having to spend time helping strangers with the most basic stuff. that's common sense!

oh how much haerin hates talking to people, let alone doing something for them but this was her only choice, other than old vampire men who abuse the capitalist system, there's no one else in this world who would hire a weakling like her. haerin's conscience couldn't even get her to kill a bird to eat, it's just too much.

she's lost everything after what minji did to her, she had to drop out of school — with her roommate's (danielle) help, it's too hard for her and it's almost as if there's no hope left for someone like her. luckily, danielle is helping haerin to get her signed up at a work from home job, which might benefit her considering she's quite smart and all they're waiting is the result of the interview.

seriously, haerin would be nothing without her kind roommate...

that girl is working overtime to look for hospitals that sell donated bloods, at this point the city probably thinks she's a maniac, all that just to help haerin cause the girl is too weak to actually kill someone. that's where her biggest problem lies, how is she supposed to keep living with literally just donated bloods? she's too weak for a vampire, most of the time she looks like someone sucked the life out of her (which is true) still, even vampires find her ridiculous.

"welcome..." haerin mutters as someone enters the store, haerin is too absorbed by her daydreams to even care who entered maybe until she hears the voice. "uhm, do you guys have any adhesive here? like super glue or something like that..." haerin's eyes shoot up and she looks up to see you standing by the nearest aisle, looking for any strong adhesive available. haerin's eyes focus on the girl just a few meters away, and it feels like she has nothing to say.

you notice the delay in haerin's response and take a peek at her from the aisle you were standing behind, your eyes met haerin and she feels like she's about to explode. "u-uh, i think we have them... here at the counter." haerin stutters, taking a breath with a small curse in her head — she doesn't understand why she's like this around you, even before she turned into a vampire.

you've always been giving her the worst types of emotions ever.

"oh, okay." you smile and make your way to the counter, reaching over to the adhesive and the lighter. "i should also get this." you whisper to yourself, as if making a small conversation. haerin feels her fingers shake, not knowing what to do and she stretches her arm a bit to reach over to the items in your hand — when she did she feels like turning into a block of ice, right at that moment she's freezing from head to toe.

you look at her, totally not realizing the severe effect you have on her. haerin shuffles to immediately scan the items, get the amount of money to pay and then the receipt — even though she's liked you for ages, haerin always gets the urge to ask you to leave; immediately! it's hard for her to stay still when you're out there looking so damn pretty, even after she's turned into a vampire her feelings for you have never changed.

to haerin's dismay, you didn't leave — instead you stay there and give her a worried smile. "how come i never see you at school again?" you ask, tilting your head a bit to see her face better. haerin feels like shrinking, or she's always felt small when you're in her sights.

it's bad.

you noticed her absence, even if you never talked to her — you're from another class, just one door away from her room... yet haerin had always made sure to get a glimpse of you, when you're busy working with the science club or when you're just existing.

it never occurred to haerin that you'd even notice her presence, let alone care enough to ask her about it. it's bad, it's really bad...

"uhm, i changed my schedule... i'm taking irregular classes." haerin puts her hand on her forehead, trying to find that familiar warm feeling on her skin yet there was nothing.

she tries to avoid your eyes but you keep looking at her. "oh really? no wonder, it must be a bit complicated for you." you tell her, yet you were quite hesitant if you were going to believe... you really haven't seen her at all in the past few months, that it started to worry you because you've familiarized yourself to haerin's existence when she visits your club which is located at the library.

"yeah... it is." haerin mutters, closing her eyes for a second, enough for her to snap back and for you not to notice. you don't want her to feel uncomfortable, so after paying you leave — feeling quite disappointed you couldn't talk to her more.

haerin curses when you leave, finally able to breathe properly again.

she's not a vampire, which means it must be hard for her to locate the usual emotions she feels when you're around. it's not the same anymore, there's no heartbeat, no blushing, and the same warmth isn't there anymore. it feels so different that haerin isn't used to it, still couldn't get herself to get used to it and it's starting to piss her off.

her shift finishes, she doesn't want to think about you again when she shakes her head and starts pedalling her bike before the sun starts peeking out of the sky.

when she gets home, danielle rambles about the current happenings in her life, which were — thankfully, interesting. danielle doesn't forget to remind haerin about the bags of blood and then to particularly the second best part of her day (first is seeing you again and finding out you actually care about her existence more than she does herself), haerin got the work from home job and can start next week, meaning she doesn't have to rely on her stupid convenience store job.

"that's great." haerin sits on the couch, looking up at danielle who nods and clasps her hands together. "i know right! i mean, god you don't have to keep worrying about losing your job under mr. kim taehyung!" danielle chirps, clearly happy about her friend's start of an actual good story.

haerin sighs, of relief for a second.

she really can't lose her convenience store job but not for the salary, rather than the fact mr. kim taehyung and minji might hunt her down for betraying a trust that's never been there from the start.

"still, i should stay for a bit until the big guy finds his next target — i mean, i can't risk being hunted down by them." haerin shrugs, danielle frowns and nods. "you're right, i mean — no offense but, you're not fit enough to defend yourself. not against minji and definitely mr. taehyung." danielle speaks, to which haerin agrees.

"for the meantime, let's not worry about that stuff... let's focus on the good things!" danielle points at the ceiling, causing haerin to laugh but she agrees again. "you're right." she says, a smile on her lips.

maybe it's the world playing tricks on her but, haerin sees you with niki — nothing too special about him except the fact he's lying about being a vampire. you work at a clothing shop, specifically catering to those who have gothic, emo or punk sense of style. he's a regular customer apparently, and he's always bragging about being a vampire — talking about how it's hard for him to stay at the sunlight, how he's constantly on the hunt for blood, those are tales you usually see in medias portraying lies about vampires.

and you're not usually stupid but for some reason — you believe him, heck, you were even amazed! haerin had always remembered your small interests in things like vampires, gothic church architectures and stuff like that — it is to no surprise you've watched a lot of movies about vampires, read conspiracy theories and imagined stuff...

this dude is gay... haerin curses herself for being mean, but it was true!

it must be just her vampire senses... but she's got this feeling niki is gay, aside from your obvious crush on him — how could you or how could he not notice it? he's always around boys and gets so giddy around guys, when he's with you he acts as if he doesn't care sometimes he's just gonna flaunt about his obviously fake vampire life.

it's super annoying that sometimes haerin has to witness you fawning over him in the convenience store late at night when him and his friends are getting ready with their illegal racing shit.

haerin receives a message from minji, to which she scoffed.

asshole

minji: hey when you start your shift later make sure to meet me outside the store.

minji: i need you to get me some stuff to my car.

and here comes minji, she's also part of the whole illegal racing stuff — funny but minji actually knows you too, haerin assumes it's because of the fact you're always on niki's tail and that niki has friends that take part in the racing community who knows minji.

haerin starts to wonder if you have ever had a conversation with minji, for sure that girl also knows about niki's whole facade.

haerin sighs and puts her arm on her face, regret sipping on her mind again, even hatred and bitterness comes at the tip of her tongue; there's an urge to curse minji as well as niki, but for some reason she couldn't say it.

"i hate this so much..." haerin grunts.

"come here!" haerin blinks and when she opens her eyes she's met with her worst nightmare.

kim minji.

who shouts from the entrance of the store with a demanding tone, gesturing haerin to get out of the store. minji stomps down to the parking spot and haerin follows, quite lethargically with a small frown. it's late at night, and it's only the two of them right now but haerin guessed that minji is probably waiting for her minions.

"my friends are arriving in less than 5 minutes," minji starts to talk and digs her large hand in her pocket to get a severely crumpled paper and shove it towards haerin. "go get me the things listed on that paper and put it on my trunk." haerin tries to remember what job she signed up for, did she sign up to be this gaint-sized toddler's maid?

although it would be nice to teach minji a lesson, haerin knows this girl likes to deal with things physically so it's not a good idea — it's not so ideal to get thrown by someone bigger than you, so all haerin could do was nod and go.

when haerin comes out with the box of beers, she squints her eyes to see you talking to minji — she had her eyes on you, like so focus! even leaning on her car as she speaks, suddenly turning into the nicest vampire around like she just wasn't bossing haerin earlier. this is bad haerin tells herself and she wants to smack her head somewhere, maybe the roof of minji's definitely not super cool car just to get her mad? oh no, that's not a very bright idea.

haerin walks around and carefully puts minji's junk on her trunk, acting like she didn't see you but you did see her! so you move away from minji's car and wave at haerin.

"haerin! hi!" you greet her with a very bright smile, haerin's eyes try not to shift away from yours but she starts to grow nervous — because of you or maybe because minji is staring daggers at her. haerin nods her head but says nothing until maybe she realizes it was better to greet you back. "ah hi y/n." haerin knows the more she stands there the more angry minji gets.

there's nothing worse than an angry bear slash vampire.

"oh you're working? sorry, i didn't mean to bother it's just — i was just happy to see you again!" you tell her, haerin smiles back before nodding.

"yeah me too—"

"okay now don't you have things to fetch there? why not go back and finish it first." minji cuts her off with her rubbish tone, causing haerin to get startled and run back to the store.

you look at minji and wonder what's gotten into her.

"are you okay?" you ask her and she looks at you with her round eyes and says.

"oh definitely, look why don't you head to the meeting place with my friends? i just have some stuff to pick up here but i'll follow."

you nod and immediately get inside one of her friends' car who she called for.

haerin comes back outside with a box of chips and yelps as minji pulls her behind by her collar. "woah! what's wrong with you!?" haerin clutches her collar and grunts, eyes glaring at minji who scoffs at her.

"what's with you and y/n?" minji asks, eager for an immediate answer.

haerin shakes her head, even though she hates minji of course she's still scared — she has no idea what this prick could do.

"nothing! we're schoolmates before, she knows my roommate... why don't you ask that to niki?" haerin talks back, but immediately feels minji letting go of her collar and she chokes back her breath.

"who now? that gay boy?" minji chuckles and clutches her before bursting into a fit of laughter — getting a startled stare from haerin.

"there is no way! what..?" minji looks up at haerin and continues to laugh.

"yeah, y/n likes him a little."

minji looks at haerin as if she can't believe what was said, haerin walks backwards a bit, feeling minji's taller figure approach her menacingly.

"i feel like you're lying to me just like how niki lies about him being a vampire."

haerin sighs, of course minji knows about that but haerin knows she's not lying because she is scared to face it. "minji, i swear. i mean, isn't it obvious with y/n's particular interest in vampires?" haerin tries to stand properly just in case minji tries to blow a punch on her, which thankfully she's never done before but haerin does not want that to happen.

haerin realizes minji must also like you, a lot. "you shouldn't be threatened by him." haerin mutters enough for minji to hear, minji pushes haerin by her shoulder rough but not rough enough for haerin to fall. "you're crazy if you think i'm scared of that clown." minji looks around and then back at haerin.

minji with her pride, she pushes her hair back and sighs. "y/n should be with me." she mutters before hopping on her car and leaving haerin standing like an idiot.

what the hell was that? haerin slams her head on the counter, sighing. she already has zero chance to have you now it's reduced to negative? how bad can her life get?

haerin ruffles her own hair and groans.

another night again, she's on her way to her work and she stumbles upon an alley that feels unfamiliar — she walked almost a hundred times here already but she's felt something weird here.

she continues to walk further and sees minji cornering a random man and in the corner of her eyes she sees you.

"minji!" she calls for the girl who had her hands on the man's collar.

"get out of here!" minji yells back causing haerin to step back. "b-but—! mr. kim taehyung!" haerin stutters and sees minji slam the guy on the wall.

you stood behind watching everything unfold, minji's unusual strength and your eyes meet haerin. "take y/n out of here or else i'm gonna punch you!" minji shouts and haerin immediately scrambles to reach for your hand and pulls you away.

"let's go!" haerin says and you turn your head behind to look at minji. "but how about her?!"

"just leave it to her! she can manage herself!" haerin says running until you both were somewhere in the middle of the main street. haerin sighs thinking about how screwed she is that she isn't at work yet.

minji really told her to take you. she's sometimes so stupid.

haerin takes her phone.

lee hyein

haerin: hyein! please... cover for me for a bit!

haerin: i'm going to be super lateee and i need you to stay there.

haerin: i'll let you take food with you and i'll pay for it!

hyein: thanks! i was about to say no but that's a nice deal!

"what's up with minji? she's so strong? i bid her goodbye and when i was being harassed she immediately knew where i was?" you ask haerin, as if she knew — technically she did but it's not like she's gonna say it. haerin wipes the sweat off of her forehead. "she's just like that — she knows every corner in this place and she's of course strong." haerin sighs.

you take a step closer to haerin, scanning her face all over. "are you okay? you look really stressed out." you tell her, taking a peek at her face. haerin closes her eyes and nods. "i'm just worried, ugh — she's so reckless, if she gets in trouble my boss will kill me."

it's not supposed to be some kind of exaggeration, she's serious about mr. kim taehyung comes for her ass once minji comes home with a bruise or gets tangled with the police officers roaming.

"are you worried she's not gonna come out okay?" you ask while putting a hand on her shoulder, haerin freezes, then she looks at your hand and to your face. not necessarily about minji well being, more on the fact that police are now on the hunt for vampires who are the reason why the town's currently in shambles.

"yeah, she's so reckless." haerin says and immediately looks away.

haerin scratches the back of her head and proposes an idea. "i should probably accompany you home, that's probably what minji wants me to do." you look at her with a confused expression.

"we're not gonna wait for her?"

haerin nods and gulps. "her pride can't take that, besides she's gonna ask me about you later."

haerin starts walking and you skip your way to follow behind her, it doesn't matter that the sky is pitch back, the stars are not visible from your view probably because of the air pollution — and the only thing you see is haerin's back under the street lamps.

haerin is still stressing.

"i did miss you."

you start talking and haerin looks behind you and stops walking.

"what?" she asks.

you stare at her and smile, chuckling a bit.

"why not? i always see you at school, i mean yeah we're not friends and barely had any conversation but i was kind of fond of your presence somewhere..." you roll your eyes playfully and shrug, haerin still is speechless.

"uhm, i didn't know that." haerin mutters, looking away and trying not to cower away.

you laugh awkwardly, walking past her.

"i guess you don't probably feel the same, which is okay — i never found you to be the type to bond over strangers and small things." you speak, walking slowly and haerin starts to follow behind.

"no! it's just, i didn't think you'd think it's a big deal. i left and that's all." haerin is now the one trying to catch up, there was not much of a gap but it feels like haerin is trying to reach for something she cannot get a hold of.

you hear her say she left and turned around.

"you left..?" you remember her saying she took a different schedule, guess maybe vampires don't have sharp memory.

"huh? wait what did i say?"

"you said you left? but last time you told me you changed schedule and is now an irregular student." you look at her with an accusing look, why does it matter so much? what if she really did leave school? why should you care about it?

you don't know too.

all you knew is that you cared for her, even just for a bit.

"i did say that... and it's true—"

"you're not that good at lying." you cut her off, staring at her and she stops walking to stretch her hands to try and reach but she stops to put it on her head, opting to fix her hair and sighing.

"can i... yeah — i did drop out." haerin puts her hands on her face.

"that's it. it's not that hard."

haerin slowly puts her hands down like a poor kitten.

"are you mad at me for lying?" haerin asks and you stare at her before laughing. "no, i'm just worried. you've been gone for so long and i started wondering what happened to you."

haerin shakes her head. "i didn't want you to have a different view of me."

you cross your arms and sigh. "no matter what happens, i'm never gonna change how i look at you!" you tilt your head and smile at her.

"even if i was a monster?" haerin asks.

you pause and stomp your feet, raising your hands. "even if you're a cockroach or a worm!"

haerin blinks and nods. "that's nice."

you turn yourself around and start walking again, haerin watches and sighs for almost a thousand time.

"sometimes i want to be a vampire, just because i think it's very cool..." you raise your hands to the sky, as if reaching for something that's not there — haerin continues to watch, almost forgetting how short her time is outside.

"like — i want to dress so elegantly, just the darkest colors out there, my closet so perfect... i want to live in a mansion, get serve by maids and stuff... i want to live for a long time like those vampires in the books and movies."

haerin blinks and you look up, closing your fist and eventually bringing them down.

"have you ever seen a vampire working on a minimum wage job?" haerin asks, you turn your head to look at her and laugh. "huh?" you chuckle.

haerin shrugs and continues to walk, you turn your head away again and continue walking.

"i don't even think i've seen an actual vampire." you tell haerin which surprised her. "what?" haerin mutters.

"yeah... i heard they were real and roaming around our town, it's kind of hard to believe but i guess the police are just making sure."

haerin opens her mouth, pointing her index finger at you.

"but i thought niki was..."

"a vampire?"

you laugh. "you think he's saying the truth?"

haerin immediately shakes her head with her brows furrowed. "no —!"

"— i just thought you thought he was..." she continues.

you shake your head and shrug. "you know niki is actually kind of funny, he has a cool sense of style... he's fun to hang out with and honestly i love how on character he is most of the time — that's all i think about him, why i like hanging out with him."

haerin puffs her chest and breathes out, as if trying to contain herself from saying something so unnecessary. "i agree —! he's also a regular at the store you work at."

now, does that mean you don't have a crush on him? haerin would love to dip her head somewhere cold.

you eventually stop in front of your house, and you turn around to look at her and smile. "it's almost 5 am..." you tell her and haerin's face contorts into an unknown expression. "what..?" she whispers.

"can i tell you something? i was thinking if we can go out —"

"i should go now!" haerin scrambles and starts running, leaving you confused on your own standing in front of your house.

haerin feels like her soul is about to fly out of her body, she's running so fast in order to get ahead of the sun that's about to rise.

no... no, no, no, no, no!

haerin chants inside her head, wishing for the sky to stop moving and the earth to stop rotating. it's so over for her once the orange starts peeking out of the clouds.

and there's a loud boom of engine and haerin almost trips when she stops and sees minji's familiar car.

"get in you loser!" she hears minji's aggressive voice and that made her immediately climb inside the passenger seat and close the door — taking a deep sigh of relief.

"your seatbelt." minji simply says and that has haerin putting the seatbelt around her immediately and leaning on the seat with a loud grunt.

the car drives around the neighborhood and it's quiet.

"god, are you okay? were there cops chasing you?" haerin asks, looking at minji — minji glares at haerin and scoffs. "no, so don't worry about being murdered by my brother —"

"he is so violent when he's angry!" haerin fights back.

"can we stop talking about him? be honest with me." minji looks at the road again, hands on the steering wheel.

"what?" haerin looks at the window, taking in the view of the sunrise. "do you like y/n?" haerin sighs when hears minji asking.

"no —"

"i said be honest with me." minji cuts her off.

"did you get rejected?" minji chuckles and answers. "you're bold, kang. she just happened to not be my type after some time talking to each other."

"'cause she wasn't fawning over you probably, wait — why are you even asking?" haerin grumbles, minji takes a look at the younger girl and shakes her head.

"you're so bad at many things — even lying." minji says.

haerin looks at the older one dead in the eyes, she doesn't fail to make fun of haerin's capabilities as if it wasn't her fault.

"so? this is all your fault."

minji sighs and then she chuckles. "i'm sorry, alright? i'm trying to make it up to you."

haerin looks at the lines of houses.

"whatever, why'd you ask anyway?"

minji takes a swift turn, talking so smoothly.

"i think y/n likes you."

that made haerin fall, literally — as the car stops abruptly causing haerin to lose her posture, figuratively — as she remembers what you told her.

going out...

y/n :)

y/n: did i say something wrong?

haerin stares at your message when she runs to their shared house and immediately closes the door.

y/n :)

haerin: i'm so sorry i ran away!

haerin: minji needed me.

haerin: and yes! let's go out together!

y/n: great! it's a date by the way...

haerin puts her hand on her face before sliding down the door, receiving quite a stare from her roommate.

she receives a message again but from hyein.

lee hyein

hyein: you asshole...

hyein: why'd you leave me here!!???

haerin lets go of her phone with a surprised look on her face. "oh my god, my shift!"

#female reader #kpop #kpop imagines #newjeans #newjeans imagines #girl group #danielle #girlgroup imagines #kim minji #kang haerin #haerin x reader #newjeans minji #newjeans haerin #newjeans x reader

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awkwardauthorwrites · 1 year

Text

Violets and Verbena

Word Count: 3k

Themes: fluff

Summary: Two years have passed since the events in Hogwarts Legacy, in which Y/N has drifted away from Sebastian. What happens when she has to spend some time in the hospital wing and he comes to visit?

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL

Noreen Blainey, hospital matron at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood in front of the two witches, holding the curtain partition open slightly and blocking the view of the hospital cot and its owner.

“Someone’s here to see me?” Y/N shared a confused look with Poppy, who sat next to her bedside. “Do you know who it might be?”

“Natty and Garreth both have Charms right now,” she shook her head in confusion. “Maybe it's Amit or Adelaide?”

“I’ll see them,” Y/N agreed, still sounding uncertain. Nurse Blainey nodded once and left, the curtain fluttering closed behind her once more. “I wonder who it could be.”

“Maybe it’s Imelda, come to apologise for knocking you off your broom,” Poppy suggested. Y/N let out a quiet laugh and shook her head.

“You know it was an accident, and she’s already apologised more than enough.”

“Chocolates make for a good apology.”

“I don’t come bearing sweets, but I could come back with some, if you want?” a deep, masculine voice came from the other end of the partition, before Sebastian stepped into view. He fiddled with his robes nervously and gave them both a small smile. “Hi, Y/N…Poppy.”

“Sebastian?” Y/N’s eyebrows shot up slightly in surprise. After everything that had happened in their fifth year Y/N and Sebastian had drifted and stopped talking to one another, with the exception of the occasional hello as they passed each other in the halls. She still spoke to Ominis at times, but they didn’t spend as much time together as they used to. She knew he missed the man that stood in front of her, but wasn’t sure how to approach him after the death of Solomon Sallow. “You know you needn’t bring anything,” she shook her head with a small smile and gestured to the seat next to Poppy. “Come and sit.”

“So there was no need for me to stop and steal these from the gardens?” He produced a small bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back, and Y/N picked out some violets and different colours of verbena clusters among the bunch that would definitely get him into trouble with Mr Moon. Poppy jumped up to get a vase for them, shooting a look at Y/N behind Sebastian’s back as she went.

“These are beautiful, Sebastian. Thank you,” Y/N reached over to squeeze his hand in gratitude as Poppy returned and set them by her bedside. “Are these forget-me-nots? A happy coincidence, or…?” Y/N trailed off slowly and picked out the different flowers she could see.

“You told me they were your favourite once, I hoped they would help cheer you up.”

“How thoughtful of you Sebastian,” Poppy commented lightly. She turned the vase slowly as she took note of the flowers scattered within the bouquet. “Did you know one of the meanings for verbena is protection and healing?” Poppy touched the petals, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked over at Sebastian. “Amongst other things.” A faint pink dusted his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes, well. The quicker Y/N gets back on her feet, the quicker she can get to doing better than me in almost every class,” he played it off with a nervous chuckle and avoided Y/N’s gaze. “It's getting a little boring being on top.”

“It’s been three lessons,” Y/N laughed quietly and turned to look back at him. “I didn’t think you would miss me so much, Sallow.” Sebastian didn’t have a response to this, and went silent. Y/N couldn’t read the look on his face; another testament to how long it had been since they really spoke. Ominis once joked she was a Legilimens, because she could practically read Sebastian’s mind and predict what he was going to say before he actually said it.

“Is that the time?” Poppy jumped up from her seat and grabbed her bag. “I’m going to be late for Potions, Professor Sharp is not going to care that I was on the opposite end of the castle.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a herbology book before handing it to Y/N. “Here’s the book I said I would lend you, you’ll find what you need in chapter seven.” With a quick wave at a confused Y/N and a still-quiet Sebastian, Poppy turned and left.

Y/N took a moment to study Sebastian, who didn’t seem to be in a rush to get to class. He had always been attractive, that much Y/N would admit to herself only, but he had really grown up in the past two years. The last of the baby fat had disappeared from his cheeks, and his jawline had become far more pronounced. His muscles had filled out as well. He had once mentioned to her, shortly after the death of his uncle and Anne had left Feldcroft, that he had taken to fixing up the house and garden there, and she couldn’t help but appreciate how he looked.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, breaking Y/N out of her train of thought. She felt her cheeks heat up and looked away from him as if he could read her thoughts plainly on her face.

“Don’t you have class to get to?”

“Not one I care to attend,” he moved to the chair closer to her, the one Poppy had been occupying and leant back to stretch. “Not without you, anyway.” He shot her a cheeky grin and crossed his arms across his chest.

“I didn’t realise you would miss me so much,” Y/N let out a quiet chuckle to mask the strange feeling in her chest. This was the Sebastian she remembered, the one who made her constantly question if he was flirting or not. “It’s not even been a day.”

“It’s been longer than that, Y/N,” he said seriously. “Far too long.”

“Sebastian, I’m so - ”

“You better not be about to apologise to me,” he shook his head with a dry laugh. “Not after everything I put you through.”

“You didn’t - ”

“I crucio’d you,” he interrupted once more, near hissing the word out as he leant forward. Y/N sucked in a breath at the sudden reminder of the excruciating pain. “Not to mention the path I started to lead you down. My uncle…” he trailed off, his eyes going glassy. “I didn’t - and still don’t - deserve your kindness. Anyone else would have reported me and let them send me to Azkaban.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N reached forward hesitantly and took his hands in hers. “I forgive you. I forgave you before you even raised your wand. I told you to cast the spell on me.”

“You have to mean it to cast an unforgivable, Y/N. It wouldn’t have worked - I wouldn’t have been able to hurt you if I didn’t mean it.”

“If you hadn’t we would have been dead a long time ago. You, me and Ominis. You did what you had to in order to get us out.”

“How can you still defend me after everything that I’ve done?” his grip tightened before he let go and leant back in his seat once more. “I came here to make sure you were alright and here you are, making sure I’m alright.” He let out another humourless chuckle and looked at the cards and chocolates by the bedside. “Looks like our whole house has stopped by to see you.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N trailed off, unsure what to say to him. His sudden change in topic signalled he didn’t wish to continue the previous conversation, but she couldn’t let him keep blaming himself for everything that happened.

“Has Imelda stopped by?” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken and plucked one of the cards from the table.

“Between you and Poppy you would think Imelda tried to actively kill me,” Y/N rolled her eyes and settled back against her pillows. “It was an accident, and she did stop by. The hamper is from her.” She gestured to the largest present on the table, a giant basket from Honeydukes.

“Maybe I should let Reyes knock me off my broom, if that’s how she says sorry,” Sebastian let out a low whistle and picked up another card. “Is this from Ominis?” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t realise you two still spoke.”

“Not as often as I’d like, but we chat occasionally when paired together in class.” She watched as he read the message on the card and cocked her head to the side slightly. “Have…have you spoken to him recently?”

“No. Not in a way that matters, anyway.” He sighed and placed the card back down. “I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”

“I find hello is always a good place to start,” Y/N offered. Sebastian laughed, a real laugh and leant forward once more so his elbows rested on his knees. “He misses you, you know.”

“I know. I miss him too. I miss you both. But like I said, I didn’t know how to approach you both.”

“All it took was me falling fifty feet to get us here,” she remarked dryly. “I missed you too. More than I realised.”

“More than you realised, eh?” he raised a single eyebrow and there was a coy smile playing on his lips. “Old feelings resurfacing?” he teased. Y/N’s jaw fell open and her face flamed.

“What? No,” she spluttered. “I never - I don’t - did Ominis say something?”

“No…but you did. Just now,” he grinned widely and took in her red face. “Did you used to have feelings for me, Y/L/N?”

“Shut up, Sallow,” she muttered, feeling utterly embarrassed. “You can go now.”

“No, don’t,” he laughed quietly and reached out to squeeze her hand gently. “Believe it or not, I used to have feelings for you too.”

“No you didn’t,” Y/N scoffed and pulled her hand out of his. Her heart leapt at the confession, even though she refused to believe he wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better.

“Yes I did. I thought I was so obvious about it. Ominis used to joke about how he was glad he couldn’t see because he didn’t have to watch me pine after you.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, but there was still a small smile on his face. “You’re hopeless. Give me that book Poppy passed you.”

“What?”

“The herbology book. I recognised it immediately. Turn to chapter seven like she said.” He set the book between them and let her flip through until she reached the right page. The chapter was titled Flowers and their meanings. “Do you recognise any of them?” he nodded towards the bouquet he had given her earlier as she pulled the book closer.

“Some. The Forget-Me-Nots, verbena, dwarf sunflowers…” Y/N trailed off as she made her way down the page in front of her, reading the meanings behind the flowers he had picked for her.

“Now, I will admit, the forget-me-nots were because they are your favourite, but that doesn’t mean I respect you any less,” he leant forward, face tinged pink as he read respect and true love next to a picture of the small blue flowers.

“I didn’t think…I thought you had just given me whatever you could grab from the gardens.”

“You didn't think I would put effort into something I gave you?” He gave her a teasing smile and watched as she found verbena on the list. Admiration and respect next to an image of the red clusters that sat in the vase next to them.

“I’m sensing a recurring theme here.” That strange feeling had returned to Y/N’s chest in full force, the one she thought had disappeared with time and distance. Dwarf sunflowers, adoration & admiration. “Sebastian…” She looked up at him, catching sight of a flicker of emotions across his face. “Are these…do you still…?” Y/N wasn’t sure how to finish the question.

“Do I still…?” he repeated quietly. His fingers brushed against the back of her hand gently and Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Have feelings for you? Yes.” He admitted, finally catching her gaze. “Unless you don’t think you could feel the same after everything that happened. Then no.” He added quickly. Y/N let out a breathless laugh, one that seemed to relax him. “I thought they went away some time last year, but when I heard you fell today…” he stopped and grimaced. “I felt like my own heart had stopped inside my chest. I couldn’t breathe until I heard from Poppy that you were okay.”

“Poppy?”

“It seems everyone knows how I felt - feel - about you. Except for you of course,” he paused to laugh and shake his head. “I thought you were meant to be smart.”

“When did you…how long?” To say Y/N was surprised was an understatement. She never would have thought Sebastian saw her as more than just a friend. To find out he returned her feelings from before - that he still felt the same - had left her speechless.

“I’m assuming you’re oh-so-eloquently asking when I first started to have feelings for you?” his eyes sparkled with more life than Y/N had seen in a long time, and she felt her heart swell for him. “I’ll only answer if you do as well and if you go first. I can’t keep putting my heart on the line without knowing anything in return.” His fingers brushed her hand again, a little more firmly as he gained confidence.

“That night in the library. When you took the fall for me.” Y/N watched as he gave her a surprised look.

“That soon?”

“You didn’t know me,” she defended her decision. “You had no need to get yourself into trouble and lie for me like that. I didn’t realise it until later, but that was the catalyst.” He mulled over her words for a few moments before standing and sitting on the bed, turning so he could face her.

“If I’m being fully honest, from the moment you walked in late to your own sorting I was intrigued. I needed to get to know you.”

“Is that why you were so snappy the first night in the common room when I introduced myself?”

“Not my finest moment, I’m sure we can agree,” he looked abashed. “I feel it's safe to assume I made up for it, though?” He watched as she nodded in agreement, a breathtaking smile coming over his face. “Looking back I started to fall for you when you beat me in our first duel in class. I didn't realise until later though, like you.”

“What do you think would have happened if we told each other back then?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it would have ended well. I think I needed to do some growing to become worthy of you.”

“You were always worthy,” Y/N took his hand in hers again and laced their fingers together. Her heart jumped as he squeezed her hand affectionately. “We both needed to do some growing, I think.”

“You still haven’t answered the most important question.”

“What’s that?”

“Are old feelings resurfacing? Can you get past everything I’ve done?”

“Sebastian,” Y/N used her free hand to gently cup his face, her thumb running over his cheekbone. “I already told you, I forgave you a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Y/L/N. If it's alright with you, I would love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but I won’t unless I know you feel the same.” He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand and leant towards her slightly. “And if you consent, of course.” His eyes darted to her lips briefly before locking back with hers. Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest as her hand slipped from his face to rest on the back of his neck. It wasn’t even a question she needed to think about. She thought her feelings for the man in front of her had disappeared, but if her thundering pulse was any indication, they had just lay dormant until now.

“It's okay with me,” she said quietly. He muttered a quick thank Merlin under his breath and let go of her hand to reach up and cup her face in his hand. He closed the gap between them slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away if she wanted to, and paused right before his lips met hers. She looked into his eyes and saw he was already staring at her, a small smile playing on his features. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head gently, his nose bumping hers. “I just…I adore you,” he said quietly, before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers gently. Y/N felt her heart leap out of her chest and wound her hand into the hair at the back of his head as he kissed her sweetly. He was right earlier, she realised, when he said they wouldn’t have lasted had they started seeing each other in their fifth year. They both had to go through some much needed growing. It hadn’t been their time back then, and as he pulled away from their kiss, Y/N could only hope that now was.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts game #slytherin reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #awkwardauthor #awkwardauthorwrites #masterlist

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avastrasposts · 5 months

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A Baker's Dozen - Three

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hi!

Look at all the love you guys gave Din last week! I'm completely overwhelmed and flustered and I'm so happy you guys love this little series of Pedro boys and, apparently, the luckiest woman in the world. I love exploring their voices and aaaaall the fluff and sweetness I want to cram into these stories. But before we meet Pedro boy number three I have to give a few shout outs: First to @maggiemayhemnj because of certain fashion choices in this story... Secondly to @trulybetty and @for-a-longlongtime who actually made Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread from the first part! Dieter would be very proud of you both and then steal half the pan.

Series Master List

Now, enter Pedro boy number three, and look who it is...

You almost drop Mrs. Levinson’s bag of cardamom rolls when you see him stepping through the door with a hesitant look on his face. The tool belt sits low on his narrow hips, the faded denim shirt stretches tight over his shoulders and he’s looking around the bakery with a cautious frown. It’s like he’s stepped out of the pages of a calendar of sexy construction workers, and you mentally pick your jaw off the floor as he looks over at you.

“Here you go Mrs. Levinson,” you say, adding the last cardamom roll to her bag and forcing your eyes away from the man.

“Thank you dear,” she replies, giving you a sweet smile as she puts her hand on top of yours, “Have you seen Mrs Morales lately?”

“No, Mrs Levinson, I haven’t.”

“Ask her about her son the next time she comes in, he’s such a sweetheart,” she pats your hand a few times, taking her bag.

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, see you next week,” you wave as she makes her way to the front door, the man with the construction belt holding it open for her with a polite, “Ma’am.”

As he closes the door, you take a few steadying breaths, and smile as he comes over to the counter.

“How can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on his face and not let them stray to the freckles that disappear under the V of his shirt.

He rubs his hands together, wiping at a stain that won’t budge, and gives you a small smile.

“I’m wonderin’ if you offer baking lessons here?

His Texas drawl is smooth and low, a pleasant lilt to his baritone voice and it just adds to his attraction. You wonder if he’s aware of how good looking he is, he doesn’t have that air or attitude. Instead he shrugs his shoulders and puts one hand into his pocket, the other one twitching nervously at his side as he waits for your answer.

“I don’t do regular baking lessons but I’m sure I can arrange something,” you reply, “what did you have in mind?”

“Well, my daughter, her birthday’s comin’ up and I’d like to make her a cake or a pie or…or somethin’ that’s not just a supermarket cake,” he says, “But I don’t know the first thing about baking and I reckon I might need a bit of help or I’ll burn the kitchen down.” He furrows his brow as he talks, looking up at you with chocolate brown eyes, his hand still twitching by his side.

“That sounds like a very good reason to learn some baking, I'd be more than happy to help,” you smile at him and his forehead smooths out as he smiles back at you.

“Really? That’d be great, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, and I’ll only charge you for the ingredients, not the lesson,” you say as you bend down and get your calendar out from under the counter.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” the man protests, “I have to pay you for your time.”

“How about you pay me with time?” you ask, looking at the tool belt around his waist, “I have a couple of small jobs around the place that are probably pretty easy, but I don’t have the right tools, maybe you can help me with that?”

“Yeah, sure, I'd be more than happy to help you out with that,” he nods and sticks out his hand, “I’m Joel, Joel Miller.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller,” you smile back at him as you shake his hand, “How about next Monday? I’m closed on Mondays so I can give you the lesson then.”

“Umm….” he squints his eyes as if he’s thinking hard, “I think that works, afternoon alright for you?”

“Yeah, whenever,” you reply, “come by at one and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, really ‘preciate it,” he grins at you, running his hand through his hair, making the dark curls stand on end as you resist the urge to reach up and touch them.

“Do you have a preference for what to bake? Or does your daughter have a preference?”

“As long as it’s easy and contains chocolate, we’re both happy,” he says, “It’s got to be easy, I’ve never done any baking in my life.”

“Easy, gotcha, I’ll make sure it’s fool proof,” you laugh, “I think I have some ideas already, I’ll make sure you don’t burn down the house.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles, “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

He gives you a wave and a smile as he leaves.

…

You can’t help but spend some extra time on your hair on Monday morning, picking out your cutest apron as you get to the shop and telling your reflection to get a grip as you apply some make up. But the man is just…you shake your head, focus now!

You’re putting the ingredients out on the workbench in the kitchen as you hear a knock on the front door. Joel is right on time and as you walk across the front of the shop he gives you a wave through the window. He’s got his tool belt slung over his shoulder and a toolbox in one hand.

“Afternoon,“ he smiles and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your eyes from drifting over his wide shoulders, the green plaid flannel shirt he’s wearing hugging them tight. It looks as if he’s just showered, his dark curls are damp and brushed away from his face and his scruffy beard looks a little bit neater today.

“Afternoon, you’re right on time,” you smile at him, leading him back into the kitchen where he puts his tools down in a corner.

“Nice kitchen you’ve got,” Joel says, looking around the utilitarian workspace, “I never knew baking included so much equipment though.” He’s looking into your large dough mixer on the floor, the one used for big batches of bread.

“Baking is a very equipment heavy sport,” you laugh, “I’ve got so many gadgets with only one use, it’s ridiculous. But don’t worry, you’ll only need three things.”

“Sounds good,” Joel smiles at you and comes over to the counter where all the ingredients are laid out, “What are we making?”

“Texas Trash Pie,” you say, looking at him for his reaction and it doesn’t disappoint, he furrows his brow and looks thoroughly confused.

“Did you say ‘Trash Pie’?”

“Yep, a Texas Trash Pie,” you laugh, “Don’t worry, it tastes a lot better than it sounds. And it’s one of those ‘use whatever you feel like’ pies so you can adjust it to your own taste.”

“Ok, I see pretzels and pecans and chocolate, all things I like, so I’d say I’m good with that.” He smiles at you, “What’s first?”

“First we wash our hands,” you wave him over to your sink and let him clean up.

“So I’ve got two options for you, I’m going to teach you how to make the pie crust now, but you can buy a ready-made one too if you’re worried about making it from scratch,” you say as you point him to the recipe sheet you’ve printed for him, “Go on, follow that and I’ll help you out if you need it.”

“Ok, throwing me in the deep end, huh?” he chuckles and starts rolling up the sleeves of the flannel shirt.

“It’s sink or swim, Joel”, you grin, leaning next to him by the workbench, glancing down at how the sleeves of the shirt hug around his forearms when he’s got them folded up, you swear he’s flexing them on purpose, but he just leans down on the bench and picks up the paper.

He carefully reads the recipe in silence for a few minutes before he grabs the flour and gets to work. He doesn’t need any help from you in the first few steps, putting all the ingredients in the bowl and working them all together as you add cubes of cold butter. You don’t want to distract him so you stand next to him in comfortable silence while he consults the recipe every other minute to make sure he’s got all the steps.

“Alright, I think that’s holding its shape right?” he asks you after working the ingredients together into a dough ball.

“Looks very good to me,” you say, “Now, flatten it into a disc and wrap it in plastic, we’re going to let it chill for a bit.”

“Right, boss,” Joel replies, and it makes your cheeks heat up, as you try to suppress a giggle.

“We can get the filling done now but then we have to wait for a bit,” you explain as he puts the dough in the fridge.

“Ok, let’s do that and then I’ll see what you need help with around here.” Joel replies, double checking on his dough before closing the door, “Didn’t think pie dough was that easy, people make it sound real complicated.”

“No, once you’ve got a good recipe it’s easy. And this next part is foolproof.” You hoist yourself up to sit on the workbench.

“Don’t tempt me, I could still burn down your kitchen,” he chuckles, coming to stand next to you and you catch a whiff of his warm cologne. His eyes are level with yours now and you can’t help but reflect on how much like chocolate they are as he smiles at you.

“Lucky thing I know a contractor who can rebuild it then,” you smile back at him and he gives you a wink.

“Lucky you indeed. Do I know him? I could tell you if he’s any good,” he replies, picking up the recipe card.

“You might know him, he’s tall, dark hair, cute smile, built like a barn door,” you smirk, feeling your butterflies erupt up as his own smile widens.

“Cute smile huh? Must be from out of town, I don’t know any contractors with cute smiles in this place.”

“He’s really bad at baking, but he’s got potential, might be an alternative career path if his construction thing doesn’t pan out.”

Joel’s grins and glances down at his hands holding the recipe, a pink shade creeping up his neck under the shirt.

“Yeah, I might know him,” he chuckles, looking up at you again, “Is he getting lessons from a real pretty baker girl, kinda makes her customers nervous with her own cute smile?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “that’s the one.”

“Alright, good to know,” he smiles and your eyes are still locked together, both of you trying to contain your grins.

Finally Joel breaks, clearing his throat and tapping his finger on the recipe card.

“So, this is foolproof, even for me?” he asks, bending down to read the recipe as you nod.

The kitchen is quiet for a few minutes as Joel checks that he has everything he needs and then he looks up at you again.

“Really?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline, “That’s it? Dump all the stuff in a bowl and mix?”

“Told you it was foolproof,” you reply, “and you can mix in other things if you prefer.”

“Ok, but I’ll follow your recipe for now,” he says, “ ‘one cup semi sweet chocolate chips’.” He grabs the measuring cup and the chocolate chips.

You watch him as he carefully measures out the ingredients in the bowl and then mixes it all together.

“That’s it?” he asks and you nod.

“Yup, that’s it, now grab the dough from the fridge and roll it out to fit that pie form,” you point him to the form you’ve placed on the bench for him.

“Alright, never used a rolling pin, but I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Joel grins as he unwraps the dough. You watch him weigh the rolling pin in his hand as he cocks his head and looks at the dough, as if he’s sizing it up, figuring out how he’s going to tackle it.

“Any special tricks I need to know?” he asks, looking over at you.

“No, just keep even pressure and try to roll it out into a circle but don’t stress too much, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Ok, here goes then,” he laughs and starts rolling. He’s tentative at first, squinting at the dough every other time he rolls over it.

“Put your weight behind it, Joel,” you smile at him, “it won’t break.”

“If you say so, you’re the master baker,” he replies, adjusting his stance and putting more force into it. The green plaid of his flannel stretches across his back as he starts rolling in earnest across the dough, and you can’t help your eyes flitting between the way his hands grip the rolling pin and the tight seams of his shirt.

Far too soon Joel’s got the dough nice and smooth, rolled out into a neat circle.

“You’re a natural at that, Joel,” you laugh and give him a quick pat on the back that makes him puff up a little.

“Tell my daughter, she’s never going to believe me when she sees her old man with a rolling pin in hand.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very impressed,” you say, handing him the pie form, “So next step is to roll the pie dough onto the rolling pin and drape it over the form, then we bake it.”

You tell him how to move the dough into the pie form and he gives you a proud smile as it settles neatly.

“Now cut away the overhang and we’ll get it in the oven.”

While the pie crust bakes you make Joel a coffee and treat him to some of your leftovers.

“It’s not fresh but they’re still good,” you say, handing him a pain au chocolat, his large hands dwarfing the pastry.

“I’m really not complaining,” he chuckles, biting down into the flaky dough, “I’ll bring my daughter next time I come, she's got an even bigger sweet tooth than me, but not until after her birthday, or she’ll catch on to my surprise.”

“If you find out her favorite I can teach you how to make that next time,” you say, leaning against the counter with your coffee while Joel smiles at you.

“You’re being far too nice, you’re gonna ruin your business if you keep giving away baking lessons.”

“Who said I’m giving them away, I’m charging you next time,” you laugh, “this first time freebie was just to get you suckered in, now I’ve got you hooked.”

“You’ve sure got me hooked, darlin’,” Joel drawls, winking at you, and heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re a real flirt, Joel,” you giggle, trying to contain the butterflies that have erupted in your stomach again as he keeps his eyes on yours, looking up through his dark eyelashes as he smiles at you.

“Just being honest, honey,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee and finally taking his eyes off you. You feel like you can breathe normal again, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hand as you sip your from your own mug.

In the kitchen you hear the oven ping and you set your mug down as Joel looks up, “The crust is ready, time for the last step.”

“I feel like you’re going easy on me,” he chuckles, “shouldn’t baking be harder than this?” He follows you into the kitchen as you smile at his comment.

“You’re on beginner level, Miller. You’re not gonna let me build a house the first time I use a hammer right?”

He laughs at that, his eyes squinting as his shoulders jump.

“Alright, point taken, darlin’,” he chuckles, taking the oven mitts from you, “I’ll stay on the easy stuff for now.”

“And I’m actually giving you a challenge,” you point out as he carefully lifts the pie crust from the oven and sets it down on the workbench, “I could’ve given you a recipe that required no oven.”

“Wait, you’re telling me I could’ve done this lesson with no oven?”

“Sure, but here we are, and your pie is ready to be baked,” you smile, “Just dump the mixture into the crust and smooth it out as best you can, it’s going to even itself out in the oven anyway.”

Joel does as you say, dolloping the sticky mixture into the pie crust and pressing it down lightly.

“All done, but, there’s one extra addition I like to do that’s not in the recipe,” you say, nodding as he puts the final touch to the pie. “You can sprinkle just a little bit of sea salt over the top, it’s a nice contrast to the sweetness of the pie, especially with the caramel and the condensed milk.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Joel says, “if you say it’s good, I’ll trust that.”

You hand him the container and he grabs a pinch, “Just a sprinkle?”

“Just a sprinkle, try to get it evenly over the top.”

“And now in the oven?”

“Yep, just in the oven and then we wait.”

As you watch, Joel carefully slides the pie form back into the oven and closes the door and you set a timer.

“Alright, let me clean up and you can show me what needs fixin’, I’ve already seen that shelf in the corner,” he says, nodding over to your bookshelf that doubles as an office, holding all the paperwork for the bakery.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask and Joel walks over to it and gives the corner of it a gentle kick, making the whole thing sway.

“Oh, ok,” you say as Joel grabs the shelf to steady it, “please fix that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it stable, but you might want to consider replacing it, that cheap Ikea stuff will always start to wobble after a while,” he says, washing off and moving his tool box in front of the bookshelf as you start to remove some of the contents.

“Actually,” Joel says, looking around the bakery’s kitchen, “You don’t have an office, do you? Where do you do the paperwork for the business?”

“On the workbench,” you say, pointing to where Joel’s bowl still is, “or I just take it home with me.”

“You know, I did a job a few months ago, built a small fold away office set for a bedroom,” he says, giving the kitchen an appraising look, “If you get rid of the bookshelf, I could build you a new one and include a desk that you can fold away, it basically works as a door for the shelf when you put it up, and a desk when it’s down. Here, let me show you.”

He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of what he means, the office set up is a sleek custom build in a small bedroom.

“Wow, you built this?” you ask, “It’s beautiful, but I could never afford something custom built like that, I’m sorry.”

Joel gives you a warm smile, putting his phone back, “I’ve got plenty of material left over from that job, and my time is free for you, I’d be happy to build it for you,” he says but you shake your head.

“Really, Joel, that’s too much, you’ve already offered to fix things around the kitchen, I can’t let you build that too.”

“Please, stop being so infuriating and just accept the damn thing,” Joel chuckles, bending to pick up a screwdriver from the toolbox, “Plus, it gives me an excuse to come back here after we’re done with this pie.”

“You don’t need an excuse to come back, Joel,” you smile as you watch him begin tightening the screws holding the old bookshelf together.

“I don’t?” he asks, still focused on the screws but you see him glance over as you pull out what you need to make the foundations for a wedding cake for next weekend.

“Of course not,” you smile, “you’re welcome anytime, baking lessons or not.”

“I might take you up on that then,” he says with a grin, giving the bookshelf a shake. “Ok, it’s sturdy now but I’m going to take some measurements for your new one.”

“Thanks Joel, I really appreciate it,” you reply as you begin measuring the ingredients.

“You’re welcome, and it’s no bother, really,” he smiles as he comes over to you and looks over your shoulder, his arm touching yours as you move back, but he doesn’t back up, the warmth from him seeping through the layers of clothes.

“What are you making?” he asks and you tilt the bowl towards him.

“Sponge cakes, they’re the bases for a wedding cake I’m delivering on Saturday.”

“That must be the master level of baking,” he says, looking at the sketch of the cake you’ve made alongside the recipe, “It looks complicated.” The cake has four layers, each layer decorated with different coloured macarons and intricate flowers made from sugar and Joel traces his finger over the pattern, “Incredibly beautiful, I’d love to see it when it’s done.”

“I’ve got pictures of a similar one on the bakery’s Instagram page,” you say but Joel shakes his head.

“I don’t have Instagram, but my daughter keeps buggin’ me about it, says it’d be good for business if I had pictures of the stuff I make on it. But I don’t know…” he shrugs as if the very idea of social media is beyond him and it makes you laugh.

“She’s right though, it would be good for business,” you say and he shrugs again.

“I might get an account just so I can see your cakes though,” he grins and you smile up at him. He’s still standing very close, leaning his hip against the bench, his eyes flitting down to your lips and back up. Your head fills with the image of him leaning closer, soft looking lips parted as his hand finds your waist.

But he bites down on his plush bottom lip instead, the faintest shade of pink tinging his cheeks, turning to face the kitchen, “I’d better get a start on paying you back,” he says, grabbing hold of his tool belt.

“Ok,” you breathe out, momentarily flustered as you turn back to the cake batter, pulling your eyes away from the way he tightens the belt around his waist, hanging low on his hips.

Joel quickly spots a few other things that need fixing around the kitchen, things you hadn’t even noticed, and gets them sorted in quick succession, a wonky wall shelf, an exposed wire, the squeak on your back door and the glitchy handle on the inside of the fridge.

“Alright, no more getting locked into the fridge,” he says, testing the handle while you dust off your hands.

“Thanks, Joel, really, that one’s been giving me trouble for a while,” you say and he gives you another warm smile.

“Anything else you need help with?” he asks, “Maybe the AC? It’s boiling in here now.” He unbuttons his green plaid flannel and shrugs out of it, the gray t-shirt below is showing sweat stains as he hangs the shirt on your coat hanger.

“Uhm…” your brain stalls as he turns around and looks at you with a hand on his hip, “No, no, the AC works fine, it’s not on though, makes the kitchen too cold.”

“Alright, you’ll just have to put up with my sweat stink then,” he says, “Should we get back to the pie or does it need more time?” His cheeks are pink and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over his scruffy beard as he waits for your answer, his lips curving up in a smile as he catches your eyes drifting over his shoulders, the t-shirt pulled tight over the width of them.

“Ah..umm…no, I don’t think so,” you stutter, attempting to slap your brain back into shape. As a means to distract yourself you walk over to the tall shelving system that holds all your bigger equipment, reaching up to lift down your biggest cake container, “It probably needs about twenty more minutes, I set a timer.”

The container catches on something out of sight up on the shelf and you tug at it but it’s still stuck.

“Oh c’mon, don’t make me get the ladder,” you grumble, tugging at it again.

“Hang on, let me help you,” you hear Joel behind you just as you give the container another pull, and the whole shelf creaks, starting to tilt towards you, a metal bowl clanking onto the floor, hitting your shoulder on the way down.

“Oh!” you gasp, putting up your hands to stop the whole thing from falling on top of you, the heavy Husqvarna shifting and sliding above your head. Suddenly Joel is right behind you, his chest pressed up against your back as he grabs the shelf on either side, pushing it back up against the wall, making the equipment rattle.

“You ok, honey?” he asks, still pressing the shelf back, trapping you between his arms as you exhale.

“Yeah, thanks, I’m good,” you huff, “Fuck, that scared me,” you give a shaky laugh as Joel carefully releases his grip on the shelf and takes a step back, letting you turn towards him, “Thanks for catching it, that could’ve been bad.”

“That could’ve been really bad,” he nods, looking at you with concern, “If that thing hit you, you wouldn’t be walking away. I’ll get it secured to the wall for you right now.”

“It was attached to the wall, at least the guys who remodeled this space said they attached it,” you say as Joel steps to the side of the shelf and looks up at the brackets attached to the wall.

“Yeah, they might’ve, but the screws are coming out of the wall now. Do you have a ladder?” he asks, turning back to you but he frowns as he sees you. “Darlin’, you’re looking a bit pale,” he puts his hand on your cheek, his warm palm making nerves of another kind shiver inside you.

“C’mon,” he says, gently leading you back to the workbench, helping you hoist yourself up to sit on it, “looks like you had a bit of a shock, can I get you somethin’, water maybe?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, giving him a small smile. The shelf tipping had scared you but now it’s his closeness that’s making you jittery. He smells so good, even with his sweaty t-shirt you can smell his cologne, and when he smiles in return, your stomach clenches and you glance down at his lips.

“Darlin’,” Joel says, his voice low as he sees your eyes move back up to his, “if you don’t stop looking at my lips, I’m going to have to kiss you.”

You almost lose your words as his hand finds its way to your cheek again, the thumb caressing across your heated skin.

“Please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes are dark as he leans in, searching yours, and when you put your hand on his arm, his skin is warm, flexing under your fingertips. The scruff on his chin tickles your lips as he brushes his nose over your cheek, prolonging the moment before his eyes slip closed, and he takes a shallow breath.

You don’t know what to expect, a soft peck maybe, a careful first kiss, but not this. His lips finally land on yours with a gentle press, warm and plush. But his hand on your cheek holds you close as he slowly parts his lips and you feel the hot tip of his tongue lick across your bottom lip, begging you to open up. You let him in with a low moan, your hand slipping up his arm, over his shoulder, and you tangle your fingers in his hair. His tongue is gentle but insistent, letting you open up for him, but he doesn’t hold back when you do, every bit of space you give him, he claims. One hand lands on your hip, pulling you closer before he slides it up to your back and you mimic him, feeling his muscles move under the thin cotton of his t-shirt as you run your hand over his shoulder blades. When he steps in between your legs, the full length of his warm chest pressed up against yours, you’re almost embarrassed by how loud your moan is in the quiet kitchen. But Joel licks into your mouth, pulling you closer as if he wants to pull another one from you, letting you swallow down his own groans.

Minutes pass, your face feels hot, flustered, your body weightless as your lips tingle under his. You can hear his heavy breaths into your mouth, his pulse thrumming under your fingertips as you caress his neck, rake through his soft curls. And you can feel his excitement in the way he’s pressed himself against you, you’re just one bold move from hooking your legs around his waist and pulling him back onto the workbench with you.

You don’t know who pulls back first, maybe it’s the sheer lack of oxygen that makes you both separate just a little, foreheads leaning together, your eyes still closed as he runs his fingers across your cheek, tracing your lips.

“Darlin’...” he whispers, his voice low and breathless, “Open your eyes.”

You look up at him, he’s smiling softly, almost in stunned wonder, and you know he’s mirroring the look on your face.

“Will you let me take you out for dinner some time?” he asks, still letting his thumb trace the outlines of your face, “I would very much like to do this again.”

“Any day, Joel,” you reply, leaning into the warmth of his hand as he cups your cheek again.

“Alright, darlin’, then let me get that shelf secure so that you don’t end up killing yourself before I get a chance to do more of this.” He bends to your mouth again, and you part your lips in anticipation, his tongue slipping eagerly into you with a low groan.

Your head spins when he pulls back with a sigh after too short of a time pressed against you.

“You’ve got a pie to take care of too I guess,” you smile at him and he chuckles.

“I’d all but forgotten ‘bout the pie, honey.”

Right on cue the timer goes off and Joel reluctantly pulls away, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter.

“Let’s see this masterpiece then,” he grins, stepping over to open the oven door and pulling out the pie. He puts it down on the counter and gives a low whistle. “That’s a mighty nice pie, if I do say so myself,” he chuckles, looking very proud of himself.

“It’s a fantastic looking pie, Joel, you did great,” you smile and he grins at you.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, darlin’. And I’m really looking forward to trying it but I should get that shelf attached to the wall first.”

He smiles at you again, giving your thigh a quick squeeze before he turns and crouches down over his tool box, digging through it.

“You said you have a ladder?” he asks, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, out in the back room, I’ll grab it for you;” you reply and jump off the workbench. The ladder is tucked away in a corner and as you pull it out you hear Joel start up his power drill.

“Here you go,” you say, putting the ladder next to the shelf and Joel gives it a shake, testing the stability.

“Might wanna invest in a new ladder too, honey,” he says, “these cheap ones are not too stable. I’ll pick you up a new one at the hardware store, I get a good professional discount there, save you some money.”

“You’re coming in here and just fixing everything, Joel,” you smile and he gives a little chuckle, shrugging as he gets up on the ladder.

“I just like to make sure everything’s working, don’t wanna see you get hurt over something I could easily fix,” he says.

“I really appreciate it, Joel,” you say and he winks down at you.

“Now, cover your ears, darlin’, this is gonna get noisy.”

You do as he says and he gets to work. It doesn’t take him many minutes to make new holes in the wall, fill up the old ones and make sure the shelf is securely screwed to the wall again. When he gets back down onto the floor he gives the structure a hefty shake and it doesn’t budge.

“Alright, there you go, no more death traps in your kitchen, honey.”

“Thanks Joel, really,” you say, “I feel like you’ve done way much more than I could ask of you, just for teaching you one pie.”

“Make it up to me then,” he smiles, “I’ll get a babysitter and you let me take you out for that dinner on Saturday.”

“How is that me repaying you?” you laugh as Joel steps closer, capturing your chin between his thumb and finger.

“Because it gives me the chance to kiss you some more,” he smiles, bending to find your lips again.

“You’re a very cheap contractor, Joel,” you mumble into his mouth as he brushes his nose against yours while he teases your lips.

“Your kisses are worth a lot more than you think, darlin'.”

Part Four

If you want to try out Joel's Texas Trash Pie, here you go!

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