Alan Rickman x Plus-size Reader One-shots

For the love of Cheesecake

*** I don't own the picture, Alan or any other places/things mentioned.
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Traffic bustles past a busy street in Central London. Alan is stood outside a quaint bakery nestled between two large sky risers on recommendation from his friend Emma Thompson. According to her, this place sells the best cheesecake and everyone knows Alan is a sucker for a classic cheesecake.

"Are you quite sure this is the place, Emma? I mean, who opens up a bakery here? It's completely impractical and I'm damn well sure this cheesecake is not going to be worth my time," he says irritated over the phone as he's trying to shield his left ear with his finger in the hopes to try and block out the noise of the many passers-by.

"Oh, would you give it a rest! This is so you, Alan. You always hesitate to try new things. Give it a shot and then call me back once you've tried the cheesecake," Emma says firmly in her thick British accent.

While on the phone, Alan looks up over passing heads just in time to see a white Mercedes G-Wagon pull up to the curb. He rolls his eyes and sighs exasperated.

"You see, this is what I'm saying. All the rich pretentious wannabes come here to get overpriced coffee and factory-made pastries," he sneers while looking at the woman stepping out of the vehicle.

She's dressed in a short black corporate-looking dress and red heels. Alan watches her as she walks toward the left side of her car and opens the back passenger door. He stares on disinterested as she proceeds to pull a white top over her head and pulls a pair of black skinny jeans on under her dress. His eyes grow to the size of two saucers when she removes the dress in one swift maneuver from under her clothes.

"What sorcery is this?" He mumbles disbelievingly under his breath.

"What? Alan, are you still there?" A dramatic sigh can be heard from Emma over the phone.

Alan follows the woman with his eyes as she throws on a pair of white converse sneakers and heads into the bakery. 

"Look, why are we still having this conversation? Just stop wasting time. Go in and order something - anything - and enjoy the scenery," Emma advises her friend.

Still taken aback by the woman who decided to do a wardrobe change out of her car, right there and then on a busy London street, Alan reluctantly heads over to the bakery. He comes to a halt in front of the black wood and glass door and rubs the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

He slumps his shoulders and blows out a breath, "why do I know I'm going to regret this?"

A bell chimes as he steps through the door and the warm aroma of Columbian coffee instantly welcomes his nostrils. He walks over to the counter to order.

"Good afternoon, welcome to The Pastry Box. How may I serve you today, sir?"

Alan lifts his gaze from the multiple pastries on display in the glass case to meet the face belonging to the friendly voice. He does a double-take to make sure he isn't mistaken.

It's her. There she stood behind the counter - the woman from outside. Alan looks baffled and a frown settles between his eyebrows.

He clears his throat and orders in his deep velvety voice, "Uhm, yes. May I please have a regular Columbian roast coffee, black, two sugars. And then..."

He looks over to the pastries again and pulls his face in a deciding manner.

He has to admit it does look good. Chocolate croissants, French macarons, beautifully decorated cake slices, cupcakes, tartlets, and a wide variety of cheesecakes line the insides of the glass display.