My Lost Starshine (Willy Wonka x Reader)(2005)

10

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The scream had come from Veruca Salt, sharp and demanding as ever.

"Daddy, look over there. What is it? It's a little person. Over there, by the waterfall."

You followed her pointing finger. There—on the far bank of the chocolate river, half-hidden among the sugar-cane reeds—stood a small figure in a leaf-green tunic, skin the warm brown of cocoa powder, hair cropped close. He glanced up, caught your eye, and gave a quick, cheerful wave.

Your heart lifted. You smiled and waved back without thinking. Perhaps they knew you'd be here. Perhaps Willy had told them.

"There's two of them," Veruca continued.

"There's more than two," Violet added, squinting.

"Where do they come from?"

"Who are they?"

"Are they real people?"

Willy stepped forward, arms spread in that familiar theatrical way, his voice calm and delighted.

"Of course they're real people. They're Oompa-Loompas."

You moved up behind him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his coat. One of the little workers caught your gaze again and offered another small wave. You returned it, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest. They remembered you—or at least, they seemed happy to see you.

Mr. Salt frowned, arms crossed. "Oompa-Loompas?"

He didn't sound delighted. You tightened your hold on Charlie's shoulders, pulling him a little closer to your side. You weren't entirely sure what to make of the tiny workers either—not yet—but something about their bright eyes and quick movements felt... familiar. Safe, in a strange way.

"Imported, direct from Loompaland," Willy explained cheerfully.

Mr. Teavee snorted. "There's no such place."

The words landed like a slap. You felt heat rise in your cheeks—anger, protective and sudden.

"What?" Willy's voice dropped, low and dangerous. His violet eyes narrowed, and for a moment you saw the same sharp edge that had once stared down his father's disapproval all those years ago.

Charlie tugged your sleeve, whispering, "Y/n..."

You glanced down at him, then back at Willy. The anger in his eyes softened the instant they met yours—replaced by something quieter, steadier. You gave him the smallest nod: Go on. Tell them.

Mr. Teavee puffed up. "Mr. Wonka, I teach high-school geography, and I'm here to tell you—"

"Well then you'll know all about it," Willy interrupted smoothly, "and oh, what a terrible country it is."

He began to pace slowly along the riverbank, voice dropping into storyteller mode—the same cadence he'd used when you were children and he'd whisper made-up tales under the cherry tree to chase away the dark.

"The whole place is nothing but thick jungles infested by the most dangerous beasts in the entire world. Hornswogglers and snozzwangers and those terrible, wicked whangdoodles."

You drew Charlie closer instinctively. Willy glanced at you both—saw the way you held the boy—and something tender flickered across his face before he continued.

"I went to Loompaland looking for exotic new flavours for candy. Instead, I found the Oompa-Loompas. They lived in tree houses to escape from the fierce creatures who lived below. The Oompa-Loompas ate nothing but green caterpillars, which tasted revolting."