#dorothy love coates | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetrainbow412-blog · 4 months

Note

hii, I wish to request a Willy Wonka x reader 😭🙏 where reader doesn’t like chocolate at all because it’s too cloying, so Wonka tries to make the right candy (or chocolate) to give it to the reader at Christmas Eve (he wanted to gave reader a small gift before Christmas day, like a form of confessing his feelings to the reader). And reader also prepares a small gift to Wonka bc they also want to confess their feelings to him

Reader can be gender neutral, or however you want

English isn’t my first language so sorry any grammar mistakes, also sorry if I didn’t explain myself well

have a good day and thanks for reading 😭🫶💐

The Bittersweet Gift of Love [W. W]

Willy Wonka x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: don't worry! English is not my first language either. I have to admit that writing with neutral readers is always a challenge for me because I translate my texts directly, but I think this time it's a decent thing. I hope you like it!!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

What could a chocolatier give to a person who didn't like chocolate? That was the question Willy had been asking himself for the past few weeks.

You hadn't specifically said that you didn't like chocolate, rather it was a matter of not liking the excessively sweet or sticky taste that some had. That is, most of the chocolates he made.

“Maybe it's just that you haven't found the right flavor,” he had told you once, while the two of you were talking.

And he was quite convinced of that, even thinking that if he managed to make something special for you maybe he would earn some affection from you. It would be as if he gave you a certain part of himself, so that you could make it yours.

So it was that Wonka, after reflecting a lot, decided to try all kinds of combinations until he found one good enough to satisfy you. Christmas was approaching and he believed that the occasion would be perfect not only to give you the present, but also to take an important step for which he had not yet had the courage: he wanted to confess his feelings for you.

The man didn't know much about love, however, he knew that he liked you a lot and he wanted you to know it. It was just that he was pretty nervous about it and he hoped everything would turn out as perfect as possible, after all, you deserved it.

Christmas Eve came when he was least expecting it and then it was time to dress in shades of green and red to attend the party that the Smith family would throw, as a thank-you to everyone after Dorothy had heard what the entire group did for help Noodle when she needed it most.

Willy put a lot of effort into buying, with some of the few coins he had left, a cute outfit appropriate to the occasion that he combined with his characteristic coat. When he was in front of the library door he felt the little purple box in his hands extremely heavy and he thought it would be a better idea to put it in his pocket, or else you would realize ahead of time the surprise he had for you.

“Mr. Wonka,” Dorothy greeted, as she opened the door “Come in, come in. It's freezing outside”

“Good night, Mrs. Smith,” he murmured cordially, removing his hat and placing it on a rack in the entryway. Apparently he was the last to arrive, since everyone else was already talking happily in the room.

Of course his eyes went directly to you, who was wearing a green sweater that highlighted your beautiful skin tone and you already had a huge smile on your pink lips from the cold.

“It's good to see you, Mr. Wonka,” said Abacus, being the first to speak “Sit over here.”

He smiled internally at the good fortune that the place the man had left him was right next to you and when you gave him a look, he felt himself blush.

“Hi,” he murmured shyly.

"Hello! I'm so glad you could come."

“I would never miss it,” he responded smilingly. His knees collided with yours and suddenly your warmth seemed to invade him as well, perhaps because of the closeness, but also because of the overflowing love he felt for you “How are you?”

With this question you began a pleasant and private conversation, which developed between close whispers and giggles that made him increasingly nervous. The others didn't mind too much that you didn't participate in the general talks, as they knew that certain unresolved matters probably needed time.

You ate the delicious dinner that the family had prepared, you drank punch, you sang some Christmas carols and when the night had advanced enough you returned to your previous place, although now with fewer people around.

“This is so nice, I love Christmas. The atmosphere is always so homely and warm” you said, with your eyes resting on the simple tree that adorned the room.

It was almost midnight and the others were in the kitchen sorting through some of the cookies that Noodle had put there an hour ago, which only left you and the chocolatier in the living room.

“I guess I believe you, your eyes are literally shining now,” he said happily. He felt like sliding his hand into yours and this time, steeling himself, he didn't hold back. You flinched slightly when you felt that.

“What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” he breathed, feeling strangely excited by what he was about to do “It's a gift.”

“Oh, Willy,” you responded, a bit incredulously, as you bent down to grab something from your bag on the floor. “I have something for you, too.”

He chuckled when he saw the box lined with bright red and a purple bow decorating it, since it was a pleasant coincidence that you had also prepared something for him.

“But don't tell anyone, because he didn't bring gifts for the others,” you added, quietly, and then he helped you up, still holding onto your hand.

"Come with me"

He led you to an empty room and he closed the door behind you, hoping he only needed enough minutes to not raise suspicions among the rest of the guests. You were nervously holding the gift, with both hands now that he had let go of you.

“Okay, listen. I wanted to do something special for you today,” he began to explain, as he pulled the box out of his pocket. “And I also added, uh… a note. You don't have to read it now or anything, but it says something in it that I want you to know."

“You're starting to scare me,” you stammered, obviously nervous. Willy was going to ask what you meant until he saw you take a small envelope out of your pocket, which you placed on the red paper. “Because I have the same thing for you.”

He stumbled a little at the second coincidence of the night and he wondered what your note could be about. He knew that he had written a little poem confessing how he felt about you, but... what if you were just wishing him a Merry Christmas? He was going to look like a complete fool.

“You can read mine in a more… private place if you feel comfortable. Maybe alone,” he suggested, though he knew it was more for his comfort than yours.

“Huh, how about we just open the gifts and leave the notes for later? I wouldn't want you to read mine now either” you murmured, just as shy as him.

Willy agreed and you extended your gift in his direction, hinting that he would be the first to open. He undid the bow, carefully, and then opened the box, revealing a beautiful scarf.

“Wow, I…”

"Do you like it? I made it myself”

“I don't believe you,” he said immediately, looking even more surprised. “It's beautiful, I really love it. Thank you so much"

He wasted no time and placed the garment around his neck. Curiously, it matched the rest of his outfit.

"It looks pretty"

“Mine is also a gift made by me. Feel free to tell me if you don’t like it, I… I’ll understand, okay?” you looked a little confused at that and then he took out the piece of chocolate, carefully placed inside the box “I know you don't like chocolate, but I don't think anyone should live without consuming such a great delicacy. So I made you this, because it doesn't have those things that you don't like. It's... different, but I hope you like it”

With some shyness he offered you the sweet and you put it in your mouth, under his watchful eye during the process. You tasted what he had offered you: it was a little bitter, but not in that way that makes your head hurt or leaves a bad taste on your palate, but with just the right touch. It was firm and didn't melt in your mouth, but decent enough to chew on. And finally, it had a touch of something indecipherable to you, but that gave it a certain exotic flavor that was pleasant to your senses.

He, without knowing everything you were experiencing, kept looking at you because he wanted to analyze your reaction to know what you really thought, and luckily your reaction showed agreement with what your chocolate lips said:

“It is the best chocolate I have ever tasted”

Willy felt that like the greatest compliment in the world and he couldn't help a smile crossing his face, satisfied with himself for having achieved his goal, but above all for seeing the happy expression on your face.

“You will never have to eat chocolates you don't like again, I have a jar full of these just for you. They will even bear your name."

It was inevitable not to take a step towards him to hug him and the boy, although at first he seemed surprised, soon responded to you.

“No one had ever done anything like this for me. I appreciate it a lot"

“Well, it's my Christmas gift. I wanted it to be something special,” he confessed, feeling his heart beating in time with yours “Merry Christmas, Y/N”

“Merry Christmas, Willy,” you said. The note in his hand felt extremely heavy and he was eager to read it, but he knew he would have to wait a while.

Suddenly you heard Noodle calling your names and you got out of there before anyone else noticed your absence, which worked because the girl was walking around the hallway when you were closing the door.

“It's going to be midnight, come here,” she said and you obeyed.

Dorothy revealed that she had a small present for each person and you began to look under the tree, eager to find out what would be in those little boxes. It wasn't something very ostentatious, but you were grateful anyway.

So, when no one was looking, you ran to the bathroom to finally read whatever he had written to you, hoping it wasn't as embarrassing as the confession you had made. You were stunned to learn the content and for a moment you feared you were dreaming, but you weren't.

When you left you knew well what your intentions were and your heart stopped for a moment when you noticed that Willy was nowhere to be seen, until Lottie told you that she had seen him heading to the kitchen. You rushed over and when you opened the door you noticed that he was about to do the same, with a bright expression on his face.

A second later he had already pulled you inside and without saying another word, he kissed you.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #willy wonka x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

795 notes · View notes

afewproblems · 4 months

Text

Christmas Party Wish Part One

After The Christmas party, Steve manages to avoid everyone for all of two days before Robin shows up at his front door, ready to knock it down.

He crosses from the kitchen and into the foyer just as Robin starts yelling.

"Steven Marie Harrington, you open up this door or so help me--"

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling the door inward quickly enough that Robin loses her balance and nearly topples onto the inside floor mat. If not for Steve's quick reflexes she would be face down in a heap, he tells her as much with a sly grin as he helps her to stand.

"And whose fault would that be? Nice way to treat the person who is here to help you out Dingus," Robin huffs, brushing off imaginary dust from her shoulders while Steve moves aside to let her in.

"Merry Christmas to you too Rob," Steve says tugging her towards himself. He sighs as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, content until she blows a long wet raspberry into his check. Steve drops her with a yelp and wipes away the wet mark she left behind with grinning lips.

"That was for ignoring my call," she says with narrowed eyes, "you were supposed to come for supper on Christmas day remember?"

She shrugs off her blue parka before lifting each foot to pull off her snowy boots, Steve takes the coat and tosses it over the back of the closest chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I know," he manages after a beat, sighing as Robin scoffs. She turns on her heel and wanders into the kitchen, leaving Steve to trail after her.

"I can only assume it's because you had other plans, you can't have possibly ignored my call for some other reason, hmm?"

Steve lifts his head to stare at the ceiling and count to five.

The thing that Steve both loves and hates about his best friend is her ability to read him through and through and call him on his shit. He'd hoped to have at least a little more time to wallow in self pity though.

"You've been wallowing for two days Steve, and I know it sucks," she chews her lip for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry about the wish game, I feel like it's my fault".

Steve shakes his head and moves to the fridge. He opens it and reaches inside for two cans of cola before turning and using his foot to nudge the door closed again. He stacks the cans, holding them both with one hand and he moves to the pantry, grabbing an old open tube of Pringles, before making his way back to the kitchen island.

"Nah," he says eventually, "it wasn't your fault, if anything it proved why I was right not to say anything".

Steve places Robin's cola and the chips on the counter beside him and cracks the tab on his can with one hand as he leans heavily against the edge. He takes a long swig from the can, pounding his chest as he finishes to release a long burp.

Robin grimaces and swats at Steve's bicep as she grabs her own can and hops up onto the counter next to Steve.

"Dis-GUST-ing," she enunciates, wrinkling her nose, "and it doesn't prove anything Steve, of course Eddie would wish for his band to succeed, he doesn't even know you're on the table".

"And besides," Robin continues, gesturing to Steve with the can, "Nancy and Jonathan don't know that I'm a friend of Dorothy and we've known each other for over a year now. You've known them for three years and haven't said anything either, Dingus, so why would Eddie feel comfortable sharing something like that in front of everyone?"

And, huh, well what Robin says does make a lot more sense than the rambling depressing thoughts that he's been playing on repeat since their movie night.

He and Eddie have gotten a lot closer since they escaped from the Upside Down for the last time. Since Steve managed to carry him out of hell and got them to the hospital in time.

And Steve has been trying so hard for months not to expose himself, to show the most vulnerable parts of his heart to someone that could stomp on it as easily as Nancy did.

But Robin has a point.

On the one hand Steve has been protecting himself, and on the other he's also made sure that there would never be a possibility of--

Steve shakes his head, "first of all, I only just figured all of this, Bi-Sectional stuff, out Robin--"

"Bisexual," she sighs as Steve keeps talking.

"Whatever, and second, we have no idea if Eddie swings that way either…I just don't want to take the risk and end up fucking it all up".

Robin stares at him, an unhappy frown marring her normally sweet features. It feels too much like she's evaluating the inside of his mind --though she did always have the uncanny talent of knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"And what would you say if I told you I had a plan?" Robin says slowly, her gaze unwavering still.

Steve meets her eyes for a moment, taking in the smirk and the raised eyebrow. There's a challenge in her expression and Steve knows there's nothing for it but to listen to what she has to say.

"I'm going to regret letting you in today aren't I?" Steve says as he lifts his can towards her own.

Robin answers with a wide grin and knocks her can into his with a metallic click.

"Don't you always? Anyways," she clears her throat and looks at him with a mischievous smirk, lifting her hands into the air and wiggling her fingers, "I'm thinking, are you ready? New Year's Eve!"

"No--"

"New Year's Eve Steve, come on!" She insists as Steve grazes on a stack of chips from the Pringles tube.

"All we need to do is invite everyone over, Eddie included, to Casa Harrington for a little New Years Party," Robin continues, ignoring the eye roll Steve sends her way, "with enough liquid courage you'd have another opportunity to actually talk to Eddie, confess your feelings, and Boom! Maybe even get a midnight kiss out of the whole thing!"

Steve stares at her wide eyes and wider grin, forcing himself to keep his expression blank.

"So, just to be clear," Steve says eventually, around a mouthful of chips. Robin exaggeratedly gags and snatches her own stack from the tube.

"Your plan is for me to host another party and talk to him".

"Well, yeah--"

"...Robin, that's not a plan, that's a repeat of what already happened," Steve groans as he puts down the chips and runs his hands over his face until they've tangled into his hair.

"No, no, nuh uh, because you didn't say jack shit to him all night," she huffs, gently pulling his hands down, "the crucial difference my sweet bozo, is that you are actually going to tell him how you feel this time".

"How am I supposed to do that with my ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend, and everyone else here smart ass," he counters, letting her continue to hold his hands in her own smaller ones.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes his fingers as she continues, "it will be easy to get him alone, come on, you could tell him you want to give him his Christmas present in your room, you could ask him to go for a smoke outside, you could show him the basement stereo and your ridiculous music collection, must I go on while you don't write this down?"

With every suggestion Steve feels a surge of warm affection for his friend and allows for a fond grin to replace the skeptical frown on his face.

"Do I have to do all of those or should I pick one?" Steve asks, lifting his now free hands to protect his face as Robin whips her own at his chest and head.

"How you were ever considered a ladies man, I will never know," Robin says, though the words are rather undercut by a laugh that turns into a giggle as she finds a particularly ticklish rib and begins her assault.

"You are a fucking menace birdie," Steve manages to say as he catches the offending hands and steps away from the counter and his friends attack.

"You love it," she scoffs, stealing another chip and crunching it loudly as though to make her point.

And he does, Steve thinks to himself.

They have five days to figure out the final details, and Steve can't help but move back to the counter to swing an arm around her shoulders.

Because when in doubt, he can always count on Robin.

"Okay, New Years it is".

#afewproblems writes #steve harrington #robin buckley #i missed writing these two so much #platonic soulmates #platonic stobin #holiday steddie #holiday fic #part two christmas wish #robin and steve are chaotic siblings and no one can tell me otherwise #i saw someone asked for a part two and a part three so here we are #feels good to be writing again #the final part of the halloween au is coming along still so hopefully people are also excited for that haha #please support by commenting and reblogging

418 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 7 months

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry this one is a bit short. i am worrying myself silly until tomorrow.

masterlist

and wouldn't you love to love her?

Bucky didn't know if Y/N wouldn't be back. He had decided to give her space, allow her the time off since she never had any but explaining it to Sadie was, to say the least, complicated. The two year old had decided to live up to the terrible two cliche and between refusing to go to school and kicking any time he tried to bathe her. Whenever she asked when Y/N would be back all Bucky could say was that he did not know and, honestly, that was the truth. The more the days passed by and her viva examination got closer, he was starting to believe more and more that maybe she just wasn't coming back at all. I like you just the way you are, what ever happened to Hey Y/N, would you like to go for some coffee? No, he just had to be upfront about it.

As if Sadie living up to her prophecy wasn't enough, Christopher was equally on him blabbing and wondering about Y/N. He could only tlel him so much before Chris charted a jet to Ohio and he was certain Y/N would hate that more than what he told her.

Bucky was in the middle of dealing with Sadie screaming bloody murder about the pancakes not having chocolate chips when he heard the front door close. At this point, if someone came to shoot him in the head he wouldn't mind. However, it turned out to be a much pleasant sight dressed in a professional black dress.

- Why is she crying? - Y/N drapped her coat over the chair.

- There's no chocolate chips. - Bucky sighed both of relief that Y/N was here and of tiredness.

- Sadie Barnes, you either eat your pancakes or there will be no TV, no tablet, no toys, no Etch-a-Sketch and definitely no Bluey, Disney + or any other streaming service your dad may be paying for. Your choice.

The redhead stared at Y/N before starting to eat her pancakes. That's it, Y/N was a witch. She had to be a witch. That's it. She was a witch, a very pretty witch who looked way too polished to have come out of an Ohio farm, but a witch.

- How were the cows?

- Pardon?

- Your parents. You went to see your parents right? They live in a farm in Ohio?

- Yeah. They were ok. Apparently mum has named them Rose, Sophia, Dorothy, and Blanche much to dad's dismay.

- Like the Golden Girls. - he chuckled. - So, your viva is today.

- Don't remind me. It's like walking into a slaughter house and then being denied being called a doctor. They should decapitate me, put my head on a spike, and parade me around Columbia as the massive disappointment.

- What's decapitate? - Sadie asked.

- It's the capital. - Bucky said not wanting to traumatise his two year old with the scenario Y/N had just described. - Go wash your hands and get your backpack, bug.

Sadie nodded but not before going over to hug Y/N's leg. Y/N ruffled her head before sending her along to wash her hands. Bucky got to making Y/N a plate, patting the chair next to him. She smiled at him before taking a seat and cutting a bit of the pancake. She stopped chewing, looking at him with a forced smile.

- Good?

- Buck, why are they salty? - she put a napkin in front of her mouth to spit out the pancake.

- They're not salty. - Bucky took a forkful from her plate to try it himself.

- We've had this discussion, Buck. Salt is in the black pot and sugar in the white one.

- I'm gonna be a mess when you quit. - he pushed the plate away from her. - Speaking of which, I would like if you interviewed your future replacement. I trust you to pick the right person.

- Most likely you won't need a replacement because I'm failing my viva today.

- You are not. - Bucky put his hand on her shoulder. - You are smart, Baudelaire.

- Baudelaire?

- Do the scary thing first. Get scared latter.

(...)

Bucky drove Y/N down to Columbia, ensuring she got there safe and ready for her VIVA before driving down to take Sadie to school. Y/N swallowed in empty, merely staring at the hallowed halls of a building which had many notable alumni and she was now hoping she would be one. The VIVA was intense to say less and as she came out of the room, she was sweating buckets and wanting to be as far away from the building as possible.

- Y/N! - shit. Shit, shit, shit, she'd forgotten he existed. What ever happened to men taking a hint?

- Chris. - she turned around with a fake smile. - What are you doing here?

- Anderson told me it was your VIVA today, I wanted to come see you. I haven't seen you in a while and Barnes said you were on holiday.

- I thought after our last chat you wouldn't want to talk to me, Christopher.

- It was a hurdle, Y/N. - he got closer to her. - Listen, I understand it was rough of me to attack your job like that but you have to understand it's because I care for you and that job is beneath you.

- No job is beneath anyone, Christopher. You think that silver spoon mouthed talk is gonna make me forget you basically insulted me, my boss and the child I look after?

- You have a Bachelors and a Masters, Y/N. You should be working internships, assistant positions to help you build your curriculum, not being a silver spoon mouthed man's child's babysitter.

- That's all fine when you can afford to work a non paid position, Christopher.

- I care about you, Y/N.

- But I don't love you.

- I don't expect you to love me yet, we haven't been seeing each other for too long and if we ...

- Christopher. - she interrupted him. - I love someone else. It's not gonna stop.

(...)

Y/N dragged herself home. It was now a week, a week long of worrying wether she passed or not. She guessed it was better than having to do it again, heck she hoped she wouldn't have to do it again. She opened the door and heard mumbling with all the lights being off. She moved to turn the lights on, coming face to face with a home made sign and Sadie yelling surprise.

- What is this? - she smiled, leaning down to pick Sadie up.

- You're done, it's a party. - Bucky chuckled, pointing to the sign. - We have reservations in about 3 hours. Bought an ice cream cake and Sadie made you a card.

- You shouldn't have done this.

- What? After 3 years and a half of you moaning and whining over psychology, you need a nice night out.

- You do know she'll start crying at around 10.

- That's why we have dinner reservations at 6.30 and once she's in bed, I will allow you full control of the television. How does that sound?

- I may not pass.

- You got this far. You deserve a celebration just for you.

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @abitofblues @buckybarnessimpp

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky/reader #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n #bucky x you #bucky/you

305 notes · View notes

604to647 · 16 days

Text

Mi Galleta (Part 4 - Oatmeal Raisin)

6.4K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero tries to get back in your good graces.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), angst, reader is hard on herself, pining, pet names (Cookie, princesa, hermosa, etc.), standard warning for Biker!Pero even though this isn't a biker AU, reader can wear Pero's shirt, eventual smut, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), they are IN LOVE OKAY 🥹

A/N: It's a HEA, don't worry! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along with this mini-series! I can't believe I completed something 🥹

Series Masterlist

Pero is desperate to see you and to serve his penance for whatever you may have heard, but you won’t return any of his messages and all his calls go straight to voicemail; he’s pretty sure he’s been blocked. Of course, he knows where you work and where you live, but he doesn’t want to scare you or make any of your spaces feel unsafe by showing up unwanted and unannounced, so he doesn’t go to you. But it’s killing him.

You don’t come to the restaurant and neither do your friends. In fact, the closest Pero comes to you for a month is when he spots Dorothy leaving one of Lin’s sister restaurants. He had stopped by to grab some paper work when he sees her getting her coat from the coat check; after he calls her name, he watches her internally debate whether or not to ignore him, eventually separating from her party to stalk over to where he's awkwardly waiting.

“How is she?” he begs, unable to muster even a greeting or something remotely more eloquent.

Dorothy extends her hand and points her index finger directly into his chest, the force with which she pokes him shoving him back, “Leave her alone or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She stomps off without another word, and he’s left feeling even worse than before; he can only imagine that Dorothy’s ire is reflective of yours.

He has to talk to you, has to know what you heard those assholes say so he can explain and soothe away the hurt caused. But he doesn’t know how.

---

It’s worse than Pero thinks. He’s broken you. You remember sharing with him your insecurities surrounding letting your family’s wealth, or money in general, define you; Pero had nodded sympathetically as you explained how important it is for you to carve something into this world beyond the privilege that’s so plainly etched into your very presence. It would be one thing if he thought you silly. But this… to know that money is all he saw when he looked at you? To hear Pero, William and those men reduce you to nothing more than a rich bitch, and write you off as unworthy of respect, undeserving of true affection? It made you feel dirty. Your money made you dirty.

You’re humiliated. And your heart is broken.

You’re hard on yourself. How could you have been so stupid? Did you really think a few cookies and a kind smile would truly win over a man who abhorred snobbery? He must have pegged you for an empty, vapid trophy fuck the first time he met you when you were just some entitled brat who wanted to eat at a fancy restaurant. Why would he ever think differently of you? How stupid of you to think he might.

Once in a while, you will recall Pero’s whispered sweet nothings and his soft touches, and your eyes will well up immediately. He had fooled you so good. You wonder if it disgusted him to pretend to care for you when he actually found you pathetic. Or did it amuse him how easily you had fallen for his charms? Did he laugh at your dumb naïve heart? You hate yourself a little for being so stupid.

And you hate yourself a lot for still missing him.

“Guess what?” asks your boss, excited.

“What?” you can’t help but grin. Greg is a good boss. He’s mentored and trained you, and for the past few years, he’s treated you like his co-lead on the team, giving you the opportunities and responsibilities to help you rise in your career; broadcasting your value to the firm by seeking and relying on your opinions and decisions. He’s a good egg. You’re really lucky.

“Joanna is coming to town!”

Ahhh… Joanna is Greg’s boss. She’s a good boss too, just a bit more restrained in her positive feedback than Greg would probably like; more than once you’ve surmised that Greg cultivated with you the type of mentor-mentee relationship that he had hoped for with Joanna. Still, she’s an important figure at the firm and Greg loves impressing her.

“That’s great! Where are we going for lunch?” your eyes twinkle; if there was one thing Joanna likes, it was going out to eat on the company’s dime.

“Well… I need to ask a favour.”

“Ask away,” you smile, if you can help Greg get on Joanna’s good side, you’re happy to do it.

“I know you’ve been to that restaurant Lin? The one on Cardero and has the rave reviews for its fusion food? Joanna read about it and wants to go.”

Your heart drops the moment he says the name of the restaurant, but you successfully keep a placid expression in place and nod.

“I heard it’s hard to get into. Impossible. No, actually, I can’t even find out how to do it? Do you have any idea? Or… do you think you could get us in?” Greg puts his hands up in prayer and makes a puppy dog face at you, complete with comical pout.

It’s been almost two months since the day you had run away from Lin; no, since the day when those disgusting words and the sound of Pero’s cruel laugh had chased you out. You and your friends haven’t been back, and to be honest, you haven’t done much going out since. Eloise and Dorothy were perfectly happy to stay in with you, watch old movies, drink wine and wallow, but you hadn’t wanted them to miss out on the city scene; besides, as you reminded them, it was their job to go out. So, at your insistence, they had gone back to the social scene, leaving you at home with your still very broken heart. The idea of seeing Pero, of asking him for a favour, gives you a stomach ache just thinking about it. Would he laugh in your face? Pretend he didn’t know you? Some other equally awful possibility your imagination isn’t masochistic enough to come up with? Probably. But, Dorothy did say she had a run in with Pero at another restaurant a couple of weeks ago; perhaps he no longer worked at Lin. You wrestle internally with whether or not you want that to be true, but agree with Greg that it’s worth you giving it a try.

Pero barely registers when a group of patrons file into the lobby, most of them stepping aside into the waiting area, probably waiting for all of their party to show up. He gives them a cursory glance while maintaining his glowering expression; he counts seven (so far) office workers. After less than a minute, a man and a tall woman who’s impeccably dressed, walk in. The man is chatting excitably to her, and she is giving him polite responses while taking in the surroundings of the lobby with an air of condescension. Unexpectedly, they also move aside to join the group that’s waiting. Pero would have thought these two were heading up the party, but he doesn’t have any time to register his surprise because the figure that was hidden by theirs, revealed when they moved to the side, is yours.

Although you’re not making eye contact with him, you do continue walking towards him and Pero’s heart leaps into his throat; he holds his breath until you reach his desk.

“Hi,” you finally raise your eyes to look at him.

“Hi,” he exhales. His heart hurts. Your eyes seem dimmed, and you look like you’re trying to make yourself small, like you would rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry to have to ask. My boss’ boss is in town,” you give a small smile when you look over and nod in their direction before turning back to Pero, “She really wanted to eat here, and my boss really wants to impress her. Do you think it would be possible? I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

Pero can’t stop looking at you. You’re more beautiful than he remembered. And still so sweet and kind. Even now, it’s clear you don’t want to be here, but you’re extending yourself to help someone else. He wishes you knew you didn’t have to apologize. He would never deny you anything, happily give you anything you desired, “It’s not a problem, you don’t need to apologize. How many are you? I’ll call up to Leah to expect you.”

“Leah?!” your face lights up knowing that one of people you were closest to at the restaurant is working today, “Oh! I’m so glad! We’re ten, thank you.”

So thrilled and relieved to see your smile, Pero can’t help but break out into a grin himself, breaking the illusion of the fearsome bouncer he’s supposed to be, “She’ll be glad to see you as well. Come on, call your party over.”

After everyone has filed into the elevator, you step in last and watch as Pero reaches in to press the button; for the first time today, you really look at him and mouth, “Thank you.”

Upstairs, you find Leah waiting for you with a big smile and an even bigger hug; after an enthusiastic greeting to you and your party, she leads you to one of the best tables in the restaurant. You see Greg giving you a discreet thumbs up as Joanna looks around the large dining room, marveling at the elegant décor.

“We would like to offer you our Chef’s tasting menu today. It’s 12-courses, chef’s choice of his favourite dishes.”

“Oh!“ you look at Greg unsure, and he in turn also looks very unsure, especially when he sees Joanna smiling broadly; it sounds very expensive, maybe too expensive for a corporate lunch. You’re just contemplating how you can manage to discreetly cover some of the cost when Leah shocks you, “Everything today is complimentary, please don’t be shy. It’s everyone at Lin’s pleasure to have you as our guests.”

“Leah,” you start to protest, but she shushes you with a knowing look in her eye and a conspiratorial smile.

“That sounds wonderful!” exclaims Joanna, and when you see how she beams, impressed, at Greg, you nod in assent at Leah, who grins back at you. After she leaves to put in everyone’s drink order, you excuse yourself and follow her.

“LEAH!!” you hiss, when you catch-up to her next to the kitchen.

“Yes?” she looks up at you with an innocent expression.

“That’s too much! Let me pay for some of this!”

“No can do, hun. I’m under strict orders to spare no expense for your table today. Give your boss’ boss the VIP experience.”

“Oh Leah,” you soften.

“He misses you.”

You don’t have a response to that.

“And he’s been a miserable grump to everyone at the restaurant.”

This you can easily believe, “I’m sorry, Leah. He… broke my heart.”

She looks at you like maybe she knows something you don’t, but also with something like sympathy; after another hug she makes a silly shooing motion with her hands, “Go on back to the table. Drinks and the first course will be out shortly.”

Lunch is superb. Each course more tantalizing than the last. One might have thought 12 courses was too many, but each dish is perfectly portioned and sequenced so that the flavours of each course build upon the one previous, culminating in one very satisfying meal. Elevating the food to another level is the impeccable service and attention that you and your table receives. It seems like your party is attended to by more than twice the usual staff; each person’s needs anticipated before they can even voice them, leaving them wanting for nothing. At one point, you choke down a chuckle because it reminds of you those regency dinner scenes where each diner has a footman standing right behind them; it’s almost too much, but Joanna is eating it up. Greg is elated, and you couldn’t be more pleased at seeing him triumph.

When the after-meal coffee and tea is served, a giant cookie is wedged between your cup and its saucer; ginger molasses, your favourite. You take a nibble and it’s heavenly.

“Hey! How come the rest of us don’t get cookies?” jokes one of your teammates. You look around and realize it’s true, you’re the only one that got a cookie.

Leah is quick to answer, “It’s an apology cookie. For our lackluster performance the last time she was here.”

You know the true meaning behind the gesture and these words, but you can’t help but shake your head, “Don’t be ridiculous, no apology is necessary. And even if one was warranted, which it is NOT, today’s exemplary service and food would have been more than enough. We couldn’t be more impressed. Thank you so, so much.”

Your table mates echo your sentiments and thanks.

Before you leave you leave the restaurant with your team, you force Leah to process a generous tip for all the staff on your card; she tries to protest but stops when you give her a scowl that you think would rival Pero’s. Giving her a hug goodbye, coupled with a promise that you’ll try to come back soon, you ride the elevator back downstairs a jumble of emotions.

There’s no doubt in your mind that the special treatment your table received today was at Pero’s behest, but why would he bother? It was enough that he had granted your party access, nothing else had been expected or needed; but the staff had gone out of their way to make sure your experience had been special, that Joanna was impressed and wowed. You sneak a look at Greg’s expression next to you; he’s positively glowing. You decide that you could drive yourself crazy trying to understand Pero’s motivations, but the important thing was that he had gone to great lengths for you when he didn’t need to and you’re extremely grateful.

You find that you don’t dread seeing him now the same way you did when you came in earlier, actually looking forward to thanking him for the kindness he has just shown you and your co-workers.

You’re the last to leave elevator and by the time Pero’s desk comes into view, you see that half of your teammates have already exited the building. Ahead of you, Greg is earnestly shaking Pero’s hand, thanking him for his hospitality and singing the praises of the restaurant. When you see Pero’s kind expression and the sincerity with which he clasps Greg’s hand in thanks, your already softening heart melts a little more.

Finally, it’s your turn. Pero’s been waiting for you. Waiting since the elevator doors closed earlier. Waiting since the day he knew you were last in this very lobby. Your eyes don’t leave his as you approach; he thinks the expression in your eyes is a little softer than earlier, a little bit of the light that he’s missed is back. For a what feels like an eternity, neither of you say anything, then simultaneously,

“Cookie…”

“Thank you.” Pero gestures for you to go first.

“Pero, thank you. The lunch was such a success and an incredible dining experience in and of itself. I know it was all because of you. Thank you.”

“Cookie. Not me. It was because of you. Everything was for you,” Pero’s tone soft and pleading. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he can barely contain his emotions. To have you here before him, your sweet face looking at him like you with something that isn’t the imagined hate that’s been haunting him – it's all he’s been hoping for for the past two months.

You don’t know what to say. Why would he do this for me?

About to thank him again, you’re stopped when Pero holds something out to you. It’s an empty container. The one previously filled with the snickerdoodles you had forgotten on his desk the last time you were in this lobby. Everything comes rushing back now. Your chest tightens at the memory of the crass and demeaning words you overheard and the harshness of Pero’s cruel laughter that still rings in your ears. And just like that, your good mood is shattered, much like your heart.

You take the container back, hands shaking, and mumble another thanks; leaving quickly before you start to cry.

Pero stares at your retreating form, knowing that you’re hurting and feeling helpless that he can’t do anything but be the cause.

---

You’re unable to concentrate on anything once you get back to work, still reeling from the whiplash of emotions you’ve experience since seeing Pero again. Luckily, despite your boss’ boss’ presence, the entire department seems to have collectively decided to forgo doing any work for the rest of the day, instead chatting happily about the experience at Lin and upcoming weekend plans. Glad for everyone’s distracted state, you attempt to process your feelings. Toying mindlessly with the cleaned container that was returned to you today, you open it when you feel the slight weight of something move inside. Reaching in, you find a piece of paper, folded several times; when unfurled, you realize it’s a letter.

Cookie,

I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you overheard the day you left me the cookies that came in this container, but I have to apologize for your ears ever being exposed to anything so offensive and vile; I won’t give it any credence by repeating any of it.

The people responsible no longer work here and have not since the moment William and I were able to express our disgust for their comments. If for even a second you felt that there was any truth to what was said about you, I am truly sorry – I cannot bear it actually, because, princesa, you mean more to me than you can fathom.

I would do anything for you. Serve you willingly. Do anything to see you smile or bring you a moment’s joy. Cookie, I love you. I didn’t want the first time I said it to be in a letter, but it’s possible this may be my only chance, so here it is. I love you.

I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you; the day you came in looking for Lin felt like first day of the rest of my life. What did I ever do to deserve you even looking my way? I’m just a grumpy asshole. But you’ve lit up my life every day since you entered it.

I didn’t know life could be so sweet until I met you, my Cookie.

Te amo, princesa,

Pero

You read it three times. So he did think what was said about you was horrible. But then… why did he laugh with them? At you? You suppose that if he truly thought you as worthless as those men, he wouldn’t feel one way or another that you overheard. Oh. His feelings. You look over those words in the letter again. I love you.

I love you.

The words swim in your head and make you dizzy. If he loved you, why did he never come to see you? Beg for you to hear his side of the story? Why did he let you think he was perfectly content for you to walk out of his life? He loves you?

But you had loved him too, didn’t you? Before that day, and if you’re honest with yourself, maybe even since. You had loved how soft he would turn just for you. Loved his passion, how dedicated he was at a job he clearly loved. How he took every opportunity to make you feel special. How he made you laugh. How he showed you the core of who he was: generous, loyal, kind. How he praised those exact traits in you.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, your mind full of Pero and your chest bubbling over with conflicting and confusing emotions. At the first opportunity that presents itself, you clock out early, bid farewell to your co-workers, and walk as fast as you can to Pero’s building. Opening the door with more force than necessary, you march straight up to Pero’s desk; he sits up straighter, surprised at your appearance. You slap his letter down on his desk in front of him and practically yell, “You love me??!?” and promptly burst into tears, the whirlwind of feelings you’ve been holding in all day finally overwhelming you.

Pero is up on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest, hands stroking your hair and back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Slowly, never letting you go, he walks the two of you towards the front doors; once there, he locks each lock, including the ground pins, never letting his touch stray from your body, his gaze from your sad face. Then tucking you under his shoulder and once again wrapping his arms around you as you continue to cry soft tears, he takes you upstairs. As the elevator door opens, you hear Leah’s greeting cut short when she sees who it is. She barely gets two words in, “Pero, what ha-,” before he very definitively orders, “Leah, send everyone home, please. We’re not opening tonight. Tell everyone they will be paid and to consider it a night off.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and Leah leaves swiftly to carry out his orders.

All the wait staff who had been setting up the dining room for dinner service scatter upon you and Pero entering; he guides you to the back of the room and sits on a cushioned bench, gently pulling you down onto his lap. You remained buried into his neck, letting him calmingly rub your neck, back and legs until your sobs subside.

When you finally lift your head and look at him, eyes still glassy with tears, Pero gently dries your wet cheeks with his thumbs before answering your question, “Yes, Cookie, I love you.”

“But why,” you feel another sob welling up from your chest, “… why did you never try to come see me? Talk to me? Why was I so easy to leave?”

“Oh fuck, Cookie,” Pero presses a soft kiss to your forehead as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry. I should have. I should have tried every day. I should have begged on my knees. I wanted to. I just didn’t want to scare you or force you to see me if you hated me. But it killed me. I regret not trying everyday to get you back. I’m sorry, baby.”

He tells you about not wanting to make you feel unsafe by showing up when you didn’t expect him, and you have to admit that that was quite thoughtful. “And it wasn’t easy to be without you, princesa. I’ve missed you every day. Your laugh. And your voice. And all the sweet and funny things you say that brighten up my day. Knowing that you were hurt and that I couldn’t do anything, I felt so fucking useless.”

You glace up at him, nervous and pitiful the way you whisper, “You laughed, Pero.”

Pero looks confused until you explain what you heard. His eyes widen in comprehension, realizing that all this time, it wasn’t just the foul words that you had overheard that had hurt you, but the idea, the certainty, that he had felt the same way as those morons. His heart drops to his stomach. He cannot get down on his knees fast enough to beg your forgiveness. Gently lifting you off his lap, he slides to the ground onto his knees and takes your hands, laying them on your lap clasped in his.

“Pero, you don’t have to…” this is unnecessary, you think.

But to Pero it isn’t unnecessary. In fact, it’s entirely necessary that he assumes this position of reverence and humility. His expression solemn but desperate as he explains, trying to walk you through the events that you only partially overheard. Needing you to understand that the laughter you heard wasn’t conciliatory, but an uncontrolled outburst stemming from his own anger. As he speaks, you feel as if you were there with him, feeling the rage he felt at you being disrespected and insulted vibrating through his hands. When he finishes, Pero’s exhausted at having relived those moments; the fury he felt once again fresh in his chest, but this time paired with shame that he ever allowed you to go about your life thinking he had felt anything but love and veneration for you. He lays his head on your hands, ready to receive whatever harsh judgment you rain down on him. He deserves it.

When he feels your soft hands move to stroke his face and run gently through his hair, he looks up to see you gazing back at him softly, eyes filled with tears again, “Oh Pero, I’m so sorry.”

Confused, he frowns a little, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Cookie.”

Shaking your head, you have to disagree, “I shouldn’t have doubted you, Pero. You’ve shown me so many times how genuine and honourable you are, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and let you explain rather than assuming the worst. You deserved more from me.”

He can’t have this, you taking any blame for your own hurt; rising to his feet and pulling you up with him, he whispers, “I should have tried every day to explain. To take better care of your heart. You deserved more from me.” Then he kisses you and your heart explodes; every emotion you feel: love, regret, relief, gratefulness, joy, all spill over and your lips desperately try to calligraph what you’re unable to say onto Pero’s. He kisses you with the hunger and longing of a man far too long parched, one having just stumbled upon the oasis of your forgiveness.

“How come Leah said we’re clos--,” William’s voice cuts through your dream-like bubble. Pero looks up at his friend, who reads the situation for what it is immediately. Your heart softens further upon seeing William, realizing you had misjudged him as well. William is all smiles, his good nature not easily affected as he claps Pero’s shoulder and demonstrates happiness for his friend’s obvious joy.

“If Leah can call everyone back, how about we still open, pay everyone double for the confusion, and I call in someone to cover the front door tonight?” offers William, and Pero easily assents with a nod of his head.

“Wait,” you say, pushing back slightly from Pero’s arms so you can look between both men, “…the two of you can just open or close the restaurant whenever you want?”

Pero and William glance at each other as you continue, “…and you make the pay decisions? Like paying people for not working… or double?”

You look right at Pero, “And you have the authority to fire dishwashers and busboys?”

Pero takes a deep breath, “Cookie, there’s something I have to tell you.”

You’re looking at both him and William with such a high degree of incredulousness, Pero thinks that this is perhaps the first time he’s ever been on the receiving end of a look as stern as the ones he’s used to giving. William looks sheepish and gives Pero a wide-eyed side glance that clearly says: Can’t help you, brother. Sighing, Pero bites the bullet, “William and I… we’re not just the host and bouncer of Lin… we’re the owners.”

You take a step back and cross your arms, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows, silent while you take this in.

“The restaurant is named after Lin Mae, William’s wife… and it’s not the only restaurant we own. We have a restaurant group in the city… and in a few other cities as well,” finishes Pero, afraid to meet your eye.

“Let me get this straight,” you say very deliberately and slowly, “you’re an internationally celebrated restauranteur… and you let me cook for you??!” You punch Pero hard in the arm before covering your face in embarrassment.

Both William and Pero chuckle and Pero rubs his big strong hands up and down your arms, soothingly, “I love your cooking, Cookie.”

Voice still muffled behind your hands, you sigh, “Don’t patronize me.”

“I would never, princesa,” Pero pulls you close and presses loving kisses to your temple, “Truly, I’ve loved everything you ever made me.”

“Your cookies are the best,” chimes in William, “my favourite were the salted caramel.”

You didn’t know Pero had shared your cookie bribes, but the fact that William’s favourite were Pero’s least makes you smile a little.

A new thought strikes you, “Is this why I’ve never been to your place?”

At this, Pero does look ashamed, “Oh Cookie, I’m sorry. I knew if you saw my place, the jig would be up.”

You wave goodbye to William as you and Pero head to the locker room to grab his belongings before leaving; after Pero’s confessions today, you won’t make the mistake of assuming any ill intent on his part again, but you are curious, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t intend on keeping it from you, I swear,” says Pero, thoughtfully, “but I can’t say it wasn’t a little bit liberating to have you get to know just me, without all the bells and whistles. It’s very rare to be seen for who I am, and not what I do or what I have.”

This, you can understand well, and you know Pero knows you do. You snuggle in closer to him, listening to the steady beating of Pero’s heart for the whole of the elevator ride. As you exit the building and walk towards his bike, Pero does apologize, “But I should have told you the truth sooner, Cookie. I’m not sure why I didn’t, except that things were going well and I didn’t want anything to change.”

He looks a little like a wounded puppy, and you decide that the two of you have wasted enough time on regrets so you lace your fingers behind his neck and pull him down for a deep, tender kiss. “You’re forgiven, Pero,” you purr into his mouth, “for everything.”

“Do you want to go to my place now?” Pero smiles against your lips.

Eyes brightening, you nod. For some reason, going to Pero’s home for the first time feels like the start of a new beginning, and you can’t help but bounce a little in excitement as Pero lowers his helmet over your head. The feeling of wearing a bike helmet, Pero’s helmet in particular, and getting ready to ride on the back of his bike again, drives home for you the realness of your reconnection. You sigh in contentment as you anticipate the familiar hum of the motor beneath you. Pero revels in a similar sentiment, unable to believe the good fortune that when he takes off tonight, it will once again be with the feeling of your arms wrapped snugly around his midsection.

Speeding past your apartment and riding further north, Pero eventually pulls into a garage beneath a luxury high-rise in one of the city’s most exclusive areas. You chuckle when you realize it’s about a block away from where Dorothy lives. During the elevator’s long ride up, you jokingly ask if Pero’s ever had any near misses with Dorothy in the neighbourhood, and his laughter while he shakes his head leads you to believe he has.

When the elevator doors open to a private foyer with only one locked doorway, you realize, he lives in the penthouse, the fucker! Your breath is taken away the moment Pero opens his front door: floor to ceiling windows border the open concept space so you can admire a near 180 degree view of the city just from where you stand. The room has a simple, modern aesthetic, but you’re not fooled by the minimalist look of the furniture – your keen eye can tell that everything in this room has been thoughtfully selected for its quality, fit and function. Though understated, the luxurious feel of the décor is evident; everything has its place, fitting together elegantly. You spy a few personal touches of Pero’s, including a model of a Ducati motorcycle that looks familiar even in its miniature form. But what truly leaves you awestruck is the kitchen: the cabinets and appliances are primarily stainless steel, giving it a professional industrial look, but the accent surfaces of marble and white lacquer tie in the space with the rest of the apartment’s sleek feel. It’s huge. And well loved, you can tell. You hungrily eye all the cool kitchen gadgets and appliances resting along the counter tops and the large marble island that centers the design. Your mouth might water a little at the thought of all the delicious food that has been prepared here.

“Hungry, Cookie?” asks Pero, amused as if he can read your mind.

Turning towards him, you see how relaxed and at home he looks among all this understated luxury, and not for the first time, you find yourself stunned by how devastatingly handsome he is. Throwing yourself at him, your mouth connects with his, open and willing, “Yes, Pero. I’m hungry.”

After removing each others’ clothing in a frenzy, giggling while tossing garments behind and over furniture, flinging some to the far corners of the room, Pero gently lays you down on his plush carpet, ready to worship you. He takes his time kissing and licking each line and curve of your body, reacquainting himself with every dip and valley, as if he could ever have truly forgotten their taste. Each shudder and whimper he pulls from you a small victory for him that your body has missed him too.

By the time Pero buries his face between your legs, you’re boneless and aching, a sticky mess already painting the inside of your thighs as you cry out for Pero to give you some relief. Your hands tug and pull at his hair, your words drip with soft pleas, then desperate demands, but nothing with hurry Pero. He’s on a mission to seek penance from your pussy and nothing will deter him. Every lick and stroke of his tongue an apology, each flick and circle of your clit an atonement for his wrongs, his two, then three fingers curl inside you pleading for forgiveness. You grant it with your back arched and your mouth open in a soundless scream, forgetting why you had ever even been apart.

When he finally enters you, it’s slow and sweet, arms bracing your head and fingers stroking your hair as he whispers words of love and praise.

“Missed you so much, Cookie.”

“Feel so good around me, princesa. Never going to leave this perfect cunt again.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your eyes never leave his, even when they fill with tears. He just feels so good. And you missed him so much. Now he’s yours again. He was always yours. And he loves you. And you love him, too. You sing it so he knows.

It’s slow and sweet, until it’s not. The urgency of Pero’s thrusts is accompanied by the crushing of his lips to yours. As your tongues dance, your fingers do the same on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the summit. Every drive of Pero’s hips bottoms him out deep in your cunt, the force of which you absorb with pleasure, crying out for more, more, more. He gladly delivers - he’ll never deny you anything ever. So long as you remain his, everything that’s his is yours for the taking, “Take it, princesa. Take my cock like the good girl you are.” You do as he commands, taking it all until you come, clenching down so hard on his length that Pero’s own fall isn’t far behind. Both still panting and lightheaded from your twin highs, you hold each other close with Pero softening inside you, kissing and whispering I love you until you both come back down to Earth.

---

Padding into Pero’s kitchen wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts, you wrap your arms around Pero’s waist as he lifts the cookies from the baking sheet with a spatula. Handing you a warm cookie, he watches you in anticipation as you take a bite. The reversal of your roles from when you first met not lost on him.

The sweet taste on your tongue is heavenly, “10/10. Ginger molasses, my favourite,” you beam, “This tastes a lot like the one at the restaurant.”

“Of course it does, Cookie,” Pero answers, as if it’s obvious. He continues to transfer the remaining cookies to the cooling rack, “Who do you think gave the recipe to the kitchen? I had them start to bake them a while ago. Just wanted to have something at the restaurant that reminded me of you.”

“That so sweet,” you coo, reaching for a second cookie.

“And maybe subconsciously I thought, bake it and she will come.”

Munching down on the sweet treat, you quip, “You really have Joanna to thank you that. She’s the one who wanted to come to Lin today.”

“I mean, if we’re going to get technical about it, the person I really have to thank is Dorothy, since she’s the one who wanted to eat at Lin in the first place,” shrugs Pero.

“Should I invite her over?” you giggle, only half joking.

“Why not? But maybe put some pants on first,” chuckles Pero, as he turns to clean the dirty baking tools in the sink.

Giggling as you head to Pero’s closet to find a pair of sweatpants, you type out a message on your phone: Dorie, you’ll never guess where I am!

2 years later

“… the bride was a vision in custom off the shoulder, full length Vera Wang. The bridesmaids wore matching vintage Gucci from Tom Ford’s 1996 collection. Not to be outdone, the groom, elusive restauranteur Pero Tovar, impressed in his custom black and white Zegna tuxedo. Guests were in for a special surprise and honour; the reception of the joyous nuptials was held in the restaurateur’s newest addition to his culinary empire with the celebrations serving as the restaurant’s private opening. Per a statement from the groom and his business partner, William Garin’s representatives, the restaurant, which will have its public opening following the happy couple’s honeymoon, is named ‘Mi Galleta’ as a gift to his new wife.”

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #modern!pero tovar #modern au #no y/n

62 notes · View notes

wonik1ss · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ The Enemy To Lover ! — winter kim

pairing — non idol!winter x reader song rec : xo call me - vcha & here we go again - jini ( 1.3k ) warnings ! none ᯤ ^ ㅇ ^ happy reading ! ⸝⸝・ᘏᘏ

prompt : on a fateful Wednesday afternoon 2 people cut ties with you. but with cupid on your side you have 2 different paths to take to hopefully get back together with these 2 people by Valentine’s Day end! val event !

Drip.. drop.. drop.. drip

“Could you seriously stop?”. You eyes wondered to the redheads. You nodded and started to tap your feet. Reason? Blood circulation. If the girl asked. You had just finnished auditioning for your colleges play. There was supposed to be a ‘after party’ which was really you all just going to Danielle’s house to eat snacks and pray you got your roles.

Two minutes after you left the school the red head did too. You pulled up your scarf around your neck and braced for impact.

“So who did you audition for?”. The girl scoffed and put went to get her air pods out of her coat pocket. Even her air was cold. Totally not because it was dead fuck in the middle of winter.. right?

“Yua”. You tilted your head up towards the girl. She sighed again and stared at you.

“I auditioned for Yua”

“Oh! I auditioned for Han-“. The girl nodded and then put in her air pods. Rude.

“Hm”

“Nothing sorry”. You bowed and you could see the girls tongue poking at her cheek. Rude bitch.

As you attend at the girl heels clicking like Dorothy you saw your actual Dorothy running up to you.

“Sorry we couldn’t get here fast we didn’t know we needed two cars!”. Danielle ran to hug you and bowed to the other girl. The perfect Dorothy. As you smiled at Danielle the other girl scoffed.

“Winter are you ok sitting in the back seat? Haerin couldn’t cause she’s claustrophobic”. Translation she had a fat crush on Dani. Being the cat girls bestfriend you but you cheek and pretend to look ate the snow.

“It’s fine..”

“Oh and you too Y/n! Sunoo said something about it messing up his face I don’t really remember”. You nodded and as the bubbly girl turned around you followed. Too busy looking at the snow fall you tripped on air. For like the fifth time this day. You felt a hand on your arm and as you looked up Winter let go. You hit your head on the cars window and Ning Ning grimaced as she opened the door.

“You ok?”

“Mhm”. With out even looking you knew she was rolling her eyes. That was only the first awkward interaction between the two of you. Yua and Hana were friends. Best friends infact. But Winter didn’t seem to get that after the fifteen times you ran over lines with her.

“.. let’s.. let’s try that again”. Bless Mrs. Joys heart.

“I heard she really pretty”

“But then one of the boys will snatch her up!”. You sighed. Again and again Winter gave you dry ass lines.

“Ok.. um.. take five kids! There’s some cookies in the back if you want some”. You nodded and watched as everyone went back stage. You sat at the edge of the stage, and played both rolls.

“You know you could just ask me to rehearse lines with you”

“Oh.. sorry.. do you wa-“

“Sure”. You gulped as Winter sat next you. She put her lines face down and her hand on your thigh.

“Do you think yin’s in love?”

“Why do you say that”. That wasn’t dry..?.

“The way she stares at him makes me sick but her.. I can tell she’s overjoyed.. to bad”

“To bad what..”.Closer… so close you could feel her breath on your skin.

“I.. I heard he.. gets around.. only likes her cause.. cause she’s new”

“Then we will protect her”. As Winter took her hand of your thigh the warmth and closeness left with it.. only for a second.

“But I’m like half his wait”. You laughed. This time Winter took her hand and put it under your chin.

“Repeat after me”

“Ok..?”

“Ofcourse your not gonna protect her”

“Of- hay”. Winter smiled as she went to pinch your cheek. Putting her hand under your pouting lips after.

“We just.. strongly disagree with any attempts she makes with him”. You nodded and started to look at the empty seats. Was that—

“Plus.. shouldn’t you be worrying about-“

“Oh stop!”. You shooed Winters hand away and she laughed.

“I know I’m working on it!”. Winter lifted her hand from beside yours and messed up your hair. Your cracked a smile and she did too.

“Can’t wait t-“

“Winter that was lovely.. the chemistry was great Y/n”. Mrs. Joy (she thinks using her first name makes her hip) grabbed both of your hands. Shaking winters more Joy playfully laughed.

“Why don’t you do that on stage?”

“The people I guess”. You didn’t miss the glance winter gave you before her face went stone cold again. After that she performed better but after she treated you were a fat piece of shit.

Now as your in your dressing chair you sighed.

“Can’t believe they cancelled the play and made it a ‘theater production’ cause they aren’t getting any hype anymore”. Yoon giggled as she applied some more mascara to your lashes.

“Translation Vice Principle A was made his daughter who got rigged in wasn’t getting any attention”. You giggled as Karina flicked Yoon’s head.

“She’s nice!”

“And can’t direct! She literally told me ‘do it again but like.. happier.. you know?’”. Yoon smiled as she sprayed setting sprayed and turned your chair to the mirror.

“Won’s just defending her cause she wants her sooooo bad”. Karina rolled her eyes and then ran out the trailer. Just then you saw a text from said girl ‘can anyone help me unpack the cameras? The rest left for break and I wanna make it easier on them”. You and Yoon looked at eachother and then burst out laughing.

“K I gotta go sneak into Won’s trailer to get that glitter she wears! It looked perfect on you and for Hana’s character!”. You nodded and then stared at yourself before. Then a wave of hair fell on your face. You tried to blow it up but it didn’t work. You heard a loud laugh.

“You watch too many romcom’s”. As winter approached you bit your tongue and tried to fix your hair. The girl put her head down on yours and you immediately stopped.

“You need help?”

“No..”

“If you go out like that you’ll look like that girl the crawled out of the tv”. As Winter mimicked the girl youlaughed. And she immediately stopped. She grabbed a brush and hair spray and got to working.

“You.. you ready for the change?”

“Ya if Miyoung finally lets Wonyoung direct”. You laughed and the girl patted your head.

“Don’t move your head to much unless I do it don’t wanna ruin your eyes”. You moved your eyes up and down and Winter burst out laughing.

“What you said don’t move my head!”. As Winter finnished she turned you around and stuck her tongue out. You tried to stifle a laugh.

“Wait..”. Winter then pulled out a silver locket necklaces and put it around your neck.

“Over heard Mrs. J saying they forgot the necklaces. Winter smiled as you looked up at her.

“Thanks”

“Not problem.. I’ll go now”. Before you could even speak you got alert telling you to get to set. Meaning your schools garden. After filming Winter was distant. The scoffs and eye rolling came back. As you went to your troller you saw a girl in an all pink uniform filling her nails.

“What is up with today? All these dumbasses fumbling I just can’t!”. The girl stood up and paved around the room.

“What-“

“I cupid! Name Wonyoung! You fumbled a really pretty girl now I make you got back in time and fix it! Or you will die alone sad and mad and bad!”. The girl pointed to herself and then pointed to two boys outside of your trailer. Through the window you saw them start to aggressively make out.

“Wo-“

“Yes or no?”

“Y-“. Snap.

Just like that you were back two weeks before you auditioned. In your room listening to laufey. You were gonna say ‘You must be crazy’.

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop idol x reader #kpop imagines #kpopidol #kpop gg #kpop smau #kpop girls #reader x idol #reader insert #onwednesdaywewearpinkevent

97 notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 4 months

Text

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Eight

So Ringo walks in first thing in the morning carrying not one, but two drinks. Either he’s being very gentlemanly to MLH (likely) or we’re getting a peek at his alcohol problem (also likely)

Ringo your boooots! Ugh, I want them so bad. And paired with the shiny red shirt and jeans? Like if Dorothy was rodeo royalty.

Paul’s defense-mechanism overdone charm coming in strong today. Playfighting with some random old man, winking at someone else as he walks by, all chipper and bouncy, boyish and cute.

“If it came to a push . . . between Yoko and the Beatles, it’s Yoko, you know . . . ‘Why do you build me up, build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down?” Linda grabs his hand and he shuts up. Another on my list of covers with *meaning* and if this one isn’t obvious, I don’t know what is. Even Linda was embarrassed for him. But here’s the thing. He’s so sure that if he pushed John to choose between Yoko and the band, that John’d choose Yoko. And he’s probably right there. But what John wants, IMO, whether he knows it or not, is for Paul to push him to choose between Yoko and HIM. Not the band. I really do think that’s what John wants and the fact that Paul’s not doing that confirms John’s belief that Paul doesn’t love him.

“Permanently engaged?” *literally starts to vibrate with anxiety* *whistles to self-soothe*

Okay, but, if I’m remembering correctly, actually in the nagras Paul’s answer to MLH’s “Do you think if you put any pressure on him that he’d go your way a bit more?” is actually “I don’t know, you know . . . can’t be bothered.” Not. “I don’t know, you know . . . and then there were two.” As AKOM said in one of their Get Back episodes, that line is actually a joke not even from that moment. So the tears? Real. The line? No.

Ringo is Not a fan of Paul just casually planning ways to announce the breakup.

Couldn’t even get a picture of Paul jumping out of his chair to talk to John because he moves so fast. Poor baby.

I wonder how early on Linda and Paul developed the “she says what he can’t say while he’s gone” play? You know? I definitely don’t think this early, but this moment does remind me of that little strategy of theirs.

“He’s coming in.” Just now takes his coat off. Meaning he's just now decided to stay? Or he's just now remembered he's still got it on? Either way, Paul's suddenly all easy smiles, relaxed, joking. John’s coming in. What could be wrong?

I was literally so pissed when I first watched this lunchroom conversation. I won’t claim to be a nagras expert or anything, but I was very familiar with the secretly-taped conversation, and it was just so butchered and spliced. Also, even if it was just them talking, it’s still not a private conversation. They’re in a crowded public space. So it’s still coded and veiled and layered etc. MLH you should’ve bugged their coats for the meeting at George’s if you’d wanted a private convo. (obvs I don’t condone that sort of thing don’t come at me)

Paul and John invite Ringo to go see George. Ringo: I was going anyway. Of course you were. Ringo’s the glue, everyone. Lewisohn can think it’s John that everyone had their closest relationship with in the group, but actually, it’s Ringo.

Ringo and Mal’s little two-step. Adorable!

See, and Ringo being the one to suggest they rehearse. It’s not just Paul being bossy all the time, kids, and it’s not just John being a leader all the time, kids. Sometimes it’s Ringo.

“Why don’t I leave my favorite guitar here as a sign?” “Look, look, what greater faith could a man have than to leave his list?” You know, like when that mean teacher makes you give them a shoe or your phone or something when they let you borrow a pencil just to make sure you won’t steal it?

#Not much to say today I guess #It was kinda a blah day for everyone I think and I'm more aware of the editing today so that throws me off a bit too #Ringo is the highlight for sure today #I should be a Ringo girl probably #Oh well #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

67 notes · View notes

eppysboys · 9 months

Text

Sam Leach and Joan McEvoy's Engagement Party, 17th March 1962 🕺💃

Earlier in the evening, The Beatles performed at the Village Hall in Knotty Ash, Liverpool. The evening was billed as a "St. Patrick's Night Rock Gala". Sam Leach, (Liverpool concert booker) booked The Beatles and Rory Storm and The Hurricanes to draw a big crowd so that he could make enough profits to pay for his engagement party, scheduled to follow the night's show. Both bands attended Leach's party, which didn't end until the following afternoon. Also present at the party was Mike McCartney, Paul's girlfriend Dorothy 'Dot' Rhone, Brian Epstein, Bob Wooler and Ted 'Kingsize' Taylor.

In his book Sam Leach has a distinct memory of 'a gang of us' (presumably including Beatles and Hurricanes) travelling to the party from Knotty Ash in a van. Their driver (not Neil Aspinall) pulled out from the Village Hall into the path of a speeding articulated lorry which seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Everyone braced themselves for the inevitable impact but miraculously the lorry, its brakes screeching hysterically, managed to stop less than a foot from the side of the van. Shocked, stunned, shaken and stirred, everyone in the van travelled the 1.5 miles to the party in complete silence.

Hurricane Johnny 'Guitar' Byrne diary entry for 1962 mentions the party:

"Bought Zodiac. Knotty Ash, Orrell, then Sam Leach's engagement party. Had row with Eileen. Got home 6."

The party was at the family house in Huyton, thrown by Dolly, mother of Vera and Joan McEvoy.

"I can vouch for the fact that Brian fell in love with Vera and pursued her all night. In fact after the party he wrote more than one letter to Dolly asking her could she help him fix a date with Vera. Unfortunately for Brian she wasn't interested." Sam Leach (She seemed a little interested, as displayed below)

"Brown, who was married (but separated) at the time of her liaison with Epstein in 1962, describes him as "...very emotional. He always gave the impression of being cold and icy, but he was very softhearted, very tender, very gentle, and he had a lot of feelings. And he was all man, I don't care what they say." (Ray Coleman, The Man Who Made The Beatles)

"We’d been to the Knotty Ash Club for my sister’s engagement. The Beatles had played there, as did Rory [Storm] and a few other groups. Afterwards, as usual, we all went back to the house and Brian came along.

If you saw the Beatles in my mother’s they were just a scruffy bunch of boys. And who’d look at them? I wouldn’t bother with them but then Brian stood out and Brian looked like the real thing. He was handsome. He was tall. He was immaculate. That’s why I let Brian get behind the bar with me and help me serve the drinks. He was the best of the bunch.

So we were just behind the bar when Elvis came on, 'Heartbreak Hotel’. He loved it, I loved it, and we started dancing. There wasn’t much room. You know, you could go two steps forward, three steps back and that was it. So we sort of got a bit close and everyone was laughing at us, saying, like, 'What’s going on?’ But if you moved sideways you fell over the crates. There were crates of beer in there and everybody’s coats. We ended up on top of the coats or on top of the crates if we just moved the wrong way. And we got pretty close but I wasn’t surprised by the way he was acting towards me.

We were dancing and kissing at the same time. He was probably one of the sexiest fellas I had ever met. People say, 'Oh well, Brian was gay.’ but he wasn’t very gay with me. He was just like any other man and more. He was very easy-going and casual and funny. He’d make you laugh and he could dance. You know he could move. He said to me, 'I’ve seen you in different places and I thought you were stuck up.’ And I said, 'Well, I thought you were stuck up because I remember being in your shop and you were like the big boss.’

I think he was pretty fresh. In a house where people are looking at you it’s not like a club with all the lights out and people tend to be aware of others but Brian wasn’t that bothered. He was interested and he showed it. Maybe he’d had a bit too much to drink. I don’t know. But I can’t say that because I met Brian afterwards and he was still interested.

The next day he called round to the house. I wasn’t there so he talked to my mother about poetry. I don’t know how they got talking about poems but Brian came the following day with a book of poems for my mother with a little letter. He also gave her a letter thanking her for having the party because everyone had made such a terrible mess of the house. It was full of eggs and rubbish and bottles everywhere and he apologized for the actions of everybody else at the party.

Well, my mother just thought he was the most wonderful person in the world. At last a gentleman has come through this door and not Teddy boys and hooligans and all the rest of it. In the first letter he said he’d enjoyed meeting her, loved coming to the house, felt so welcome and would she mind if he came around again to see me. I said to my mum, 'Well, that’s impossible. How can I see him? You know I can’t go out with Brian.’ She said, 'You will have to’.

My mother was in love with Brian: 'He’s beautiful. He’s wonderful.’ So she sort of arranged it. I didn’t want him to come and pick me up at the house because I didn’t want people to see us going out. I arranged to meet him in a little cafe in Bold Street. We had a coffee and a chat and then I can’t really remember where we went. We went somewhere for a drink around Bold Street where there were all these little dives at the time. But I had to be back for nine o'clock. Another time I met him in the Tower and we had a little chat. We met in the back office and had a talk.

I liked Brian as a man and I think Brian liked me. But then he suggested if we were to go out we’d have to go to Southport or Manchester - anywhere out of Liverpool because he didn’t want to walk into my husband in Liverpool. We were separated at the time but it was a little bit awkward, you know.

It’s hard for me to believe Brian was gay. I think if I had been free and if I’d seen more of Brian I think we could have got serious. I think he was all man. I just can’t accept that he was gay.

In the shop Brian seemed like a man, like your dad shouting at you and superior. He had an attitude of superiority. But later on I discovered he was just like any other man. I thought he was a very passionate, loving person. He was like two different people. So if there’s a third person involved - this gay person - I just say he’s one hell of a man to be able to please everybody. You know, he was just unique. That’s all I can say." Vera Brown, In His Life, The Brian Epstein Story.

"George always fancied Joan and when I began dating her, he asked her to let him know when she finished seeing me. 'But don't tell Sam', he added. 'He’d batter me!' Today she probably feels like battering me for spoiling her chances." Sam Leach, The Rocking City

"Later in the evening, Joan had a headache and said she was going upstairs for a lie down. I went to fetch a couple of aspirins from the kitchen and said I'd follow her. Bob Wooler then made a typically cheap remark about pre-marital sex. Before I had a chance to sort him out, Paul and George grabbed him and made him personally apologise to Joan." Sam Leach, The Rocking City

"Rory Storm was lying on the floor hopelessly drunk. He shouted up to Paul, 'I wanna be in the picture'. So, as you can see, Paul bent down and lifted his foot into the shot." Sam Leach

"The night rolled on and I found Lennon, completely sloshed, sitting in the kitchen rolling raw eggs down Ann Barton's birds-nest hairstyle. Each time one broke, he gave a gasp of astonishment at the gooey yellow mess spreading across the tiled floor. Dolly found out and gave him a severe rollicking, which sobered him up enough to utter a sincere, 'Sorry, Mrs Mac'. Everyone liked and respected Dolly McEvoy and that was the only time I ever saw Lennon genuinely humbled. He disappeared for a while after that and was found later fast asleep in the bath.

When he finally came downstairs, he once again started to apologise. Dolly had forgotten all about it, but he was still apologising as he left at nine the next morning. As we stood outside, he shook my hand gravely. 'That was the very best party I've ever been to . . . honest,' he croaked. I was pleased everyone had enjoyed themselves, but when John started thanking me for a third time, I put him in a taxi and packed him off home. As he left, I slipped an egg into his pocket. He never did tell me how that hatched out." Sam Leach, The Rocking City

110 notes · View notes