Who You Share it With (Willy Wonka x reader)

13. Giraffe Milk "Macaroons"

The guests bid each other goodnight after making plans to sell Willy's first batch the following morning. You watched as the lit windows turned dark one by one. Eventually, even you and Willy retreated. "Now, what was that about being eaten by a tiger?" you inquired.

"Oh, it was nothing," he shrugged, waving it off, "I just mistook the tiger door for the giraffe door."

"What!? Thank goodness you're alive!" you exclaimed, holding onto his shoulders as if he'd disappear at any moment.

"Don't worry, I've encountered many a wild beast during my time at sea, and they've only gotten a nibble!"

You stared up and down his figure, finding nothing missing. "Should I be concerned?"

"Not at the moment." Willy picked his head up, setting his hat on the bedpost over your scarf. He quickly changed the subject. "We are going to make my giraffe milk macaroons," the man took great care in emphasizing the fact that he wasn't doing it alone.

"We? I'm going to sleep," you stated flatly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Obviously, he didn't anticipate that answer, because his face turned to a startled frown. "We've got time! Four heads are better than two, and two arms are better than one!" he quickly begged.

You just squinted at the man, trying to figure out what he meant. He already had two arms, and you only had one head to add to his. He did the same for a second, head angled to the left, before his lips parted in realization and he corrected himself, "Wait. Scratch that, reverse it."

"Well..." you trailed off. Your head dipped to the ground as you pondered on how badly Willy could accidentally mix up the recipe if he couldn't even tell the difference between two and four.

He got on his knees and gave you the cutest-saddest stare. "Please, darling?"

You couldn't help but succumb to his sweet gaze, "Fine."

An eye-catching grin appeared on his face before he literally jumped up in glee, "Wooh—"

You urgently pressed a hand to the back of his head while the other clasped over his mouth. "Willy! Be quiet, Mrs. Scrubitt will hear you!" you ushered him in a strained whisper. You held onto his shoulders as his excitement quickly dissipated and... was his face red?

"We-we should get to making them," he nervously pointed out, not moving from your gentle grip.

"Mm-hm." It was only after you turned towards his suitcase and walked away that he probably realized he'd been frozen for nearly a minute.

He quickly rebounded and joined you. "Well, what now? I assume we have to make them," you asked sarcastically.

"Not to be rude, but are you always so irritated before bed?" he asked.

He took out a bag of chestnut-colored powder from his case. You assumed this was at the very least some sort of almond flour. 'Probably from Timbuktu' you thought to yourself as he combined that with the whiter in comparison, flour-like, confectioners sugar. Looked just like your father's recipe. You remembered making these with him. French desserts were always his favorites,

"You know, the French invented dessert after dinner. No sneaking a bite 'till then, munchkin."

"Hello? Y/n?" You snapped out of your daze to find Willy waving a hand in your face.

"What?" you growled at him, swatting his hand away.

His arms shot back towards himself as he recoiled in shock, eyes wide. "I-I-I'm sorry," he fearfully apologized, probably thinking it was his fault for asking such a blunt question. You immediately regretted your outburst, feeling guilty for lashing out at him because of your dad.