#Ceramic Tea Cups and Saucers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ackerifle · 7 months

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Hello! Can you please do a scenario where reader comes to help Levi do paperwork in his office and he offers her some tea. She doesn't think much of it and drinks the tea, but soon starts to feel dizzy before going unconscious. The next day, she wakes up in his bed, naked, and wrapped in his arms.

paperwork date!

yan. captain levi ackerman x fem vice captain. reader

+ CW. — abuse of power & authority, drugging, slight gaslighting, implied: rape/non-con & somnophilia.

you are starting to believe that captain levi’s office is becoming yours with how often you spend your time there. even your fellow special operations squadmates tease you for your absence now that you’ve taken on the new — and quite precarious — position as vice captain. although you have yet to find a plausible reason as to why the captain promoted you in the first place, let alone allowed your entry into his meticulously handpicked squad. and coincidentally, you simply cannot recall the last time you had a break from captain levi’s overbearing presence, and his room, since becoming his vice captain.

oftentimes, at this late hour in the evening, it is you who brews and brings tea for captain levi— per his request, that is, and for whatever godforsaken reason that he has yet to divulge, but who are you to defy orders? the first day you had been requested to his office to assist with the arduous hours of labor that was completing paperwork, you had thought to prepare some tea. it was meant to be a kind, one-time, gesture of reassurance and camaraderie from your end. but now you fear that your captain’s become rather spoiled, as the second time around when you had showed up empty handed, he looked far from pleased.

so alas, you come to a standstill in front of his office’s door. pitch perfect posture, not a thread misplaced on your uniform, and hands settled onto the handles of a small silver platter tray. your eyes absentmindedly drift to the contents atop the salver: a ceramic teapot that is far too nice to have been found in the survey corps, two matching cups and saucers of the same lavish set, a dainty teaspoon, a creamer, and a bowl for sugar cubes accompanied by sugar tongs; and even though you know quite well that he doesn’t utilize the latter two dishware, you are adamant about keeping them for formality's sake. but you can’t help but feel that you’ve neglected to include something in the assortment.

due to your hands being held hostage by the tea that captain levi was so persistent on you delivering, you clear your throat to announce your arrival, “sir, it’s vice captain name.” he doesn’t entertain your salutation with a response of his own, but rather, gauchely slams open the door with concerning haste. you dwell on the fact that it was just too fast, even for someone of his caliber, almost inhumanely so, and it makes you speculate if levi was stationed right at the entrance, waiting for you.

levi’s expression is unreadable, but his frown is apparent as ever. he’s blocking the doorway with his body, one hand holding the door at arms length, and the other pointing inside the room towards the desk at the center of his office, “you, inside. now.” his voice is stern, addressing you as if he were reprimanding you for insubordination. it causes you to grimace, but you know better than to test levi’s last nerve.

you step inside, cautious as to not tip over any of the cups, or cause the tea you had spent such a fastidious amount of time brewing to overflow out past the flange of the teapot. hurriedly and heedfully all in the same, you navigate your way to the guest-side front of levi’s desk, avoiding the chair and stacks of paperwork in your way; and you are beyond attentive whilst lowering the silver plate down until it is completely flat on the table. you don’t release your white knuckled grip on the handles until you see the contents on the platter tray have stopped trembling. had you not been so immersed in your soundless struggle to appease levi’s strict cleanliness standards, you would have picked up on the sound of the door being locked.

sighing softly, relieved, you slump your shoulders and pull the chair beside you by its crest rail, wincing when it scrapes against the floor and creating an obnoxious screech in retaliation, before taking a seat. levi enters your line of vision from the left, and you flinch when he cuts unnecessarily close to you, enough for you to feel his uniform’s coat brush past yours, but not enough to feel his body beneath it. a scowl instinctively makes its way on your face, one that you cannot hide, and you’re thankful he didn’t catch it, faced away from you entirely. levi swivels his heel with sharp precision once he’s stood on his side of the desk, standing in front of his chair, but he doesn’t sit.

there is a pair of inkwells on the desk, wedged between the piles of untouched documents, and you take hold of the one that still has its lid sealed on. near to the opened inkwell are a couple of feather pens, one is in rough condition, and two seem untainted by the ink and whatever iron grip they were unfortunately subjected to for the past few hours. you retrieve the one furthest from the middle of the table, and when it finally dawns on you that levi has still yet to make a move to sit down after a lengthy silence, you hesitantly tilt your head to take a glance in his direction.

he appears in deep thought, concentrated on something beyond your immediate comprehension, until you follow his gaze down to the silver tray. and now that you bring your attention to it, the tea has a delightful aroma to it, and smells as though it’s finally been steeped long enough— “you forgot the strainer.” levi isn’t pointing it out, he’s chastising you.

pesky tea leaves, curse you. perhaps an oversight on your part, the one that you had intuitively sensed earlier but could not place a finger to, but minuscule as a stand-alone mishap. how mean of him, really, it was as if levi was trying to find something he could fault you in. and considering the scrupulous amount of time he took to detect such a minor mistake, he would not be satisfied until he did. you can’t ascertain whether it’s because levi loathes the thought of you doing anything right without his personal interference, or he simply gets a power trip by nitpicking at you. you’re starting to believe it’s both.

“i’m sorry, i can go get one right now—” levi interrupts you, or more fittingly, silences you, without even so much as uttering a word. he takes the handle of the teapot with the two fingers of his right hand, mindful of its fragility, and gathering the teacups together in his left hand. “nonsense, i already have one.”

levi turns his back to you, setting the ceramics atop the dressers lined up on the wall behind his desk. without missing a beat, he locates the drawer containing this supposed strainer with ease, and sure enough, a tiny mesh tea strainer can be seen pinched between his pointer finger and thumb. of course captain levi has this in his office, he may as well have the whole tea set hidden in that drawer, and of course, captain levi can compensate for every single flaw and shortcoming his vice captain has.

his fondness for the craft is evident as he takes it into his own hands to strain the tea for both cups, “sir, i could have done that.” forcing yourself to avert your eyes, as if dismissing the whole (ridiculous) ordeal altogether, aggravatedly setting the closest report down in front of you and skimming the words, “i know.”

levi returns to his seat, this time, he does sit, but not after returning the teapot and teacups to their rightful places on the expertly organized platter, “here.” he lifts one of the cups in that peculiar way that he always does, by the edge of its rim, and extends a hand towards you, “you brewed it, it’d be a shame for me to enjoy all this good quality tea alone.”

reluctantly, you entangle your hands around the handle, impatiently pulling it from his grasp before he can properly let go, and you drink until the teacup is half empty. sparing a passing glance at levi as you carefully set the cup back on its respective saucer, he seems satiated.

falling into routine, the rest of your exchange is done quietly. only the sound of feather pens making detailed incisions on the papers ricocheted throughout the idle office. and perhaps it’s the finely written cursive on the papers, or that it is well past curfew, but your eyelids feel unbearably heavy. it had become increasingly difficult for you to remain upright, slightly swaying in your seat, desperately attempting to regain your composure every time you nearly fall out of your chair. one particularly long blink has you absolutely reeling once you open your eyes, but the feeling of something brushing against your knee has you retaining consciousness instantaneously.

parting your lips with a surprised exhale, your eyes peer down to your legs, but there is nothing out of the ordinary. it must have been the inner side of the desk, the opening that created leg room so two people could sit comfortably across from one another. that sounded far better than accusing your captain of purposefully invading your personal space— seeing as such a thing has never happened before, him intentionally rubbing against your knee with his own, that is. you dismiss the notion altogether, but then it happens again, and this time, it feels like a hand.

“did… did you just touch me?” levi calmly takes his focus off his paperwork, momentarily stilling the movement of his feather pen, “no.” but for some reason, you still doubt him. and levi surmises as much as his eyes narrow, though not with suspicion, but something else that you can’t quite figure out in your delirious state, “are you sure?”

“do you want me to touch you?” he inquires with such sudden seriousness, it catches you off guard. your reaction time has been awful, but you almost immediately blurt out a; “no.” and your response is a little too quick for his liking.

“no?” levi echoes coldly.

no, that is what you recall from your last moments of blurred consciousness, but you can’t remember if you had said it, or levi had. quite honestly, that had become the least of your concerns as soon as you opened your eyes. met with the unforgiving glare of the sun shining through a suspiciously large window that most certainly didn’t belong to your room, you break into a sweat when you inhale the familiar scent of someone else, and you’ve become increasingly aware of how unbearably warm you are. you’ve been stripped bare, and despite being engulfed in a tangle of blankets and sheets, you feel disturbingly exposed. and you know this feeling, one of another naked body pressed against your backside and a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. any move you had initially tried to make was futile, thrashing about to free your own arms from the lock of the other pair, tugging at his wrists and pushing them down with all your might.

it’s startling when the hold around your waist suddenly tightens, as if constricting you out of breath, “you can deny it all you want, but your body loves it when i touch you.” you don’t need to turn and face the man keeping you hostage in his arms because levi’s voice is unmistakable, “it’s about time that i fuck you while you’re conscious anyway.”

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

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That Thing I Like

Masterlist Here

Word count: 2,100+

Synopsis: You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.

Themes: Law x gn!reader, platonic yearning for more, crying, angst, swearing, hurt with comfort, processing grief, professionalism and duty getting in the way.

Notes: @feral-artistry said she wanted some comforting Law. Man needs a hug. Go comfort your captain, he needs you. I hope you enjoy your gift!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity

Written with two songs in mind: Lora Lai Lo - Patty Gurdy, Baby Mine - Sharon Rooney

Fingertips brushing with the tanned pages of your novel, focussing on the cleverly articulated poetry depicted on the pages. You began blindly reaching in front of you, your index finger meeting with the ceramic edge of your rapidly cooling teacup.

Your eyes continued to mull the same sentence over and over again, the masterful penmanship scorching into your memory as you rose your cup to your lips. Halting, you narrowed your eyes on the final two words of the sentence: “My boy.” You spoke aloud those words in a hushed whisper, brow knit and focussed.

Finally raising the teacup to your lips, you choked on the fluid within. Where you expected to taste the bitter tang and subtle sweetness of liquorice tea, your palate was assaulted immediately by the overwhelming flavor of seawater.

“Damn it, Shachi!” you immediately yelled, placing down the cup loudly on your saucer. A loud gaggle of laughter had your eyes burning with a violent rage over the spine of your novel. The redhead smirked at you, his brother in arms, Penguin, clutching his own chest alongside grasping Shachi’s bicep.

“I couldn't not!” he confessed between cackles, “It was right there!” You shook your head at him, rising to your feet and readied yourself to berate your fellow Heart-Pirate crewman, only for the drone of your Captain to spark over the Den-Den speakers.

“Ships’ Counselor, to my office,” your anger immediately cooled, huffing away your exasperation with a puff of breath.

“Saved by the captain, as per usual, Orka,” you snarled at him. His smirk only widened as you shook off the flavor of seasoned water with a shrug of your shoulders and a rotation of your neck.

“Ooooh, Counselor to the Captain’s office,” Penguin taunted you with a higher pitch to his regular drone, “How many times does that make this week, hm Shach?”

“That makes the fourth day in a row, Pen,” Shachi taunted back. You placed your marker within the pages of your novel and tucked it within your satchel. Shaking your head at the both of them, you eyed them off cautiously.

“Four days of not so secret, secret meetings,” Penguin continued in his teasing tone, “What do you get up to in there? Want to share with your two bestest friends?”

“After that little stunt?” you quipped at him, gesturing to the ceramic teacup, “Absolutely not."

“It was just a little switch-e-roo,” Shachi chuckled, “A little switch up to make things interesting.”

“I will get you back for that little switch up, boys,” you threaten them with narrowed eyes and a wide smirk, “When you least expect it, I'll enact my revenge.” The seriousness in your tone had both men on edge beneath your icy tone.

“Jokes on you,” Penguin snarled your name in a hushed whisper, “I'm always on edge.”

“A terrible coping strategy, Pen,” you remark with a soft chuckle, “When you're ready to work through that, make an appointment with me, okay?” He hummed a soft acknowledgement at your comment, both men watching as you turned to make your way through the Polar Tang.

As you left the common area and wove your body down the hall, Shachi turned to Penguin and bumped his shoulder against his.

“You reckon Cap and Sel are a little friendly?” he asked his dark-haired crewmate.

“More than that, I think,” Penguin smirked in return, scrunching his nose up, “Why else would he call ‘em into the office so much?”

Both men looked at one another with a small shrug before returning to their own recreational activities in the mess hall, leaving thoughts of romantic dalliance between you and Law alone while their hobbies occupy them.

As soon as you knock, your practiced routine for the last few days has your momentum carrying you to the desk Law remained sat behind.

“Counselor,” Law addressed you with a soft nod.

“Captain,” you mirrored his expression with a nod of your own. Your soft, melancholy smile rose up to your lips.

“I need you to do that thing I like,” he confessed with an even tone. You shook your head, your brows furrowed to a low frown.

“Captain,” you begin, shaking your head, “This is the fourth day in a row that you've-.”

“-I need it,” he spoke over you, a small growl in his tone, “I need you to do it again.” You sighed in response, weaving your way over to his position behind the desk.

He swivelled his chair, his knees parted and hands gripping the denim over his thighs. His teeth clenched behind his tightly clamped lips, his brow deepening in a frown of his own.

“Are you certain?” you asked him, reaching out and smoothing your hands over his shoulders before cupping his chin beneath your fingertips.

“I know it's a request not common in your training,” he confessed, his inked fingertips tentatively and soothingly brushing over your own, “And it's well out of your job description and comfort zone. But I need you to do this for me.”

You smile softly at him, his eyelids falling into a cresent shape with his small smile. His hat lay askew on his desk, his documents all neatly compiled in a catalogued heap beside him.

“Alright, Captain,” you smiled at your captain, turning your hands and capturing his within your digits, “Let's go do that thing you like.”

You led Law by the hands, tugging at his wrists and slowly moved yourself to a seated position over the suade sofa in his office, patting the empty space beside you to indicate for Law to sit.

Immediately, he fell in a heaped mess beside you. His head hit your thighs, his face hidden against your stomach as your hands gently began caressing his hair. He lay himself down, tucking his lanky legs against his chest as you began the routine you had been practicing for the past four days.

“My boy, dry your eyes,” you sung melodically to him, your voice not professional by any means, but well enough to carry the simple melody. He immediately became transported back into a memory.

“Tomorrow will soar, as the dove flies,” you massaged his scalp, hands soothing over the unruly strands. He tucked his head further against your stomach, using your body as a shield to muffle any uncharacteristic whimpers from falling from his lips.

“You are loved from your head to your toes,” you continued, your own emotions almost betraying you as you felt his shoulders shuddering, “May my words spread light over woes.”

“For you are my best boy,” you repeated your lilted chorus, “My only boy.”

As your words hung thick in the air, you attempted to ignore the dampened streaks of fresh, hot tears soaking through your shirt. You knew Law needed to linger in this space, process this state of grief and use you as a lightning rod to draw in his thundering strike of raw emotion.

For the past four days, he needed a space to linger in his grief. When you noticed him making simple mistakes navigating the Polar Tang through still waters, you immediately set an appointment up with him to talk through it. It took you the first month to get him to open up, the following two to reassure him that nothing ever said here would leave.

It only took two months after that one to have him process his childhood with you there as an ear, a council and a guide to usher him through. You had become friends through this, sometimes using the opportunity to discuss hobbies and jokes. But lately, he would use your time together to remember all those lost to him.

For the past four days, that focus was on his mother.

After clutching against you within this state of vulnerability for several, you chose not to make a sound. Disguising your breath by taking lengthy inhales and exhales, your heart soared, and relief washed over you when you felt your captain match your intentional breaths.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your naval, withdrawing his face from your body and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You've done well,” you acknowledged him, withdrawing your hands from his hair as he moved to sit upright, “Less time than the last few sessions we've done this together.”

He hummed, his heart feeling lighter and less overcome beneath the strangling waves of oppressed sorrow. His eyes were red and glossy, the streaks of tears now drying on his cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it this time, or do you want to leave it?” you offered him, feeling his bare grief still lingering, “We've spoken so much about Dressrosa, Corazon and Doflamingo. Do you want to tell me why this melody means so much to you?”

He sighed, his tattooed fingers drawing over his eyes as he scraped them over his cheeks and down to his whiskered chin.

“My mother sang that song to me every night,” he confessed in a voice just above a whisper, “She would change the lyrics for my sister when it was her turn. I would often catch her humming it when she thought nobody was around.”

You nodded along, ushering him to continue with your eyes supporting his release of pent up emotion.

“I was a child when my whole country perished with the poisoning, or the extermination,” he continued, a wave in his voice causing him to gulp back a dry lump forming, “I don't think I had the opportunity to process this before, and now that her birthday is coming up-...”

“...You miss them,” your hands subconsciously sought out his knee, giving the cap a gentle squeeze in acknowledging his emotions, “And there is nothing wrong with experiencing the gravity of such a loss well after experiencing it. You've been through so much, Captain.”

His hand reached down to cup yours over his knee, his head shaking a soft denial to your words.

“You likely think me weak,” he confessed with a dark smile, “You have the ability to dismiss me from duty and take command, should you no longer see me fit to lead.”

“For experiencing human emotions?” you quirk your brow up, a soft smile elevating to your lips, “Hardly a valid reason for mutiny, sir.”

He chuckled at your answer, his rare smile once again drawing over his face. The moment of the memory had left him once more, his mind now fully present beside you. Your smile was one he had seen a thousand times before, but this particular one penetrated his cold heart and swelled it with an engulfing warmth.

“I appreciate you so much, Counselor,” he admitted, his body moving against its will in a hypnotic trance as his forehead met with your own, “I will be forever grateful that Bepo convinced me that our crew needed one.”

“For what it's worth,” you whisper, closing your eyes and lingering against him, “I think you are an excellent captain,” you used your thumb to brush against his knuckles, “Your parents, your sister, your country, and Rosinante would be proud of the man you've become.”

Lingering against each other, Law fought back the urge flooding his chest to release more of his stress physically. He wanted to lunge forward and press himself against you, cry into you and show his appreciation with embracing you.

But he remembered who he was, where he was, who you were, and who you were to him. You were an equal, a colleague, a friend, and someone who acts as both therapist and deepest confidant to him as your superior.

He could never betray that to seek out a physical dalliance, no matter how much his body screamed at him to clutch against you.

You were plagued with a similar plight, desperately wanting to join your lips with Law’s and demonstrate how safe, secure, and loved he is with you. To become a person far greater than a mere colleague to him.

These past few months had drawn you both close - but these past few days had propelled you even closer. You could never betray your station and your standing as his confidante and counselor.

As the night lingered on, you both opted to remain like this for several moments: enjoying the soft, emotional touch and the world you had carved out behind the safety of the office door. Both yearning and craving the touch to deepen between you, like a swelling rush of water behind a rapidly caving dam wall.

You just needed one more, simple push before that wall would shatter for you to give into this craving. But stubourness, duty and your minds often stood in the way of you both giving in to he desires your heart screamed for.

#one piece #x reader #trafalgar law #Trafalgar Law x reader #op law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #op law x reader

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mysteryshoptls · 2 months

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SR Azul Ashengrotto - Luxe Couture Vignette

"Please come this way"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: …Now, now, don't say that!

Azul: I would be honored if you would come by the Mostro Lounge to come see my photo with Eric-san.

Vil: I'm staggered. You would not only use my father, but also myself to increase your reputation?

Grim: Oh hey, if it ain't Vil and Azul. What're you guys talkin' about?

Azul: We just happened to come across each other over here, so we were merely chatting about plans once we return to campus. Have the two of you been shopping?

1. I bought some clothes for myself.

Azul: You bought clothing at the Crystal Galleria? You must be a better shopper than I thought.

2. I bought some gifts for everyone back home.

Azul: A wonderful sentiment. Keeping people in your debt is very valuable.

Azul: I myself just finished purchasing some cosmetics. After this, I plan on perusing some tableware.

Grim: Huh, tableware? Don't really matter what gets used, to me.

Grim: The food 'n drinks're waaay more important than the plates 'n cups.

Azul: I fully believed that would be your response, Grim-san.

Vil: I absolutely adore that sort of dedication. The more opulent the tableware, the more sophisticated the mealtime becomes.

Vil: Weren't the plates, cups, and cutlery at the restaurant we dined at yesterday utterly sublime?

Grim: I don't remember a thing about 'em.

Vil: ...Right, I was a fool for even asking that in the first place.

Azul: The golden rimmed white porcelain plates at that restaurant was indeed spectacular.

Azul: Decorated in both matte and glossy gold, these surely were high-quality wares. A rare sight, indeed.

Vil: Well, now. You're well informed, Azul.

Vil: It may be interesting to shop for tableware with someone who actually knows a thing or two. I'll join you.

Azul: Why, certainly. Would you like to join us, [Yuu]-san?

1. I'd like to. 2. I'm definitely interested.

Grim: 'Kay, then I'll tag along too, then. But anyway, do they even sell stuff like that here?

Vil: Of course. Fine ceramic wares are yet another major product of the Fairest City. There are also many antique shops.

Grim: Uh-huh. So it's not just make-up 'n clothes 'n food, huh.

Azul: It is said that there were 3 primary factors that led to the development of those fine ceramic wares in the Fairest City.

Azul: The first factor was due to the nearby mines.

Azul: The neighboring mountain range had an abundance of high-quality clay, for which artisans from all over began to come for.

Azul: The second factor is the development of pharmaceuticals thanks to knowledge passed down from the Fairest Queen.

Vil: That pharmaceutical science was then used to develop a diverse array of pigments, and that allowed for the field of colors to become what it is today.

Azul: Indeed. It's just as you say.

Azul: And the final factor is the sense of beauty that every Fairest Queen-loving inhabitant of the Fairest City carries.

Azul: Thus, the potters and sculptors who were raised with a heightened awareness of beauty themselves brought their ceramics to an entirely new level when it comes to works of art.

Vil: Only the residents of the Fairest City would find ways to elevate beauty in fields other than fashion and makeup.

Azul: We've arrived. I hear this shop carries a rather large collection of antique tableware for sale.

Vil: Have you already done prior research?

Azul: Yes, indeed. I must admit I have been looking forward to purchasing new tableware.

Grim: Woah! There's a ton of sparkly dishes and stuff!

Vil: What sort of tableware are you planning on purchasing, Azul?

Azul: I believe I'd like to find teacups, saucers, and a matching teapot.

1. What about this golden tea set?

Grim: Yeah! The shiny gold color is so cool! Azul: I see they allowed gold to oxidize and used that to create a pattern for the design. I must admit it is extravagant and definitely draws an eye. Vil: An opulent design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

2. Look at this pink tea set!

Azul: I see it is a set of teacups with a frill molding. The flower pattern along the rim is so wonderfully subtle. Vil: A rather cute design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: Fufu, I agree completely. Perhaps now we can look at the wares that had caught my eye?

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: This is the one I am looking to purchase here.

Grim: This one, huh? It's just a borin' looking white cup with a tiny bit of blue stuff on it.

Azul: That dainty and subtle touch is intended to be its charm point… It seems you fail to comprehend that, Grim-san.

Azul: This bright white porcelain shows not a hint of translucency… Does it not seem to be the pinnacle of class?

Vil: It certainly does have a refined beauty about it.

Azul: The elegant design carved out of the rim of the teacup is called a "scalloped rim."

Azul: And consider this wave-like handle curled along the side… Even the minute details are so stunning.

Grim: A handle? What, you gonna steer somethin' with this cup, then?

Vil: Obviously the handle is where you hold the cup.

Vil: But, Azul. These cups and teapot are a vintage set.

Vil: Is there any need for you to use such an extravagant tea set in a café that caters to students?

Azul: Indeed. I consider this a necessary investment.

Azul: Just because my customers are students does not mean that I intend on compromising my standards.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[camera shutters clicking and screaming]

Fans: KYAAAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAAA!!!

Reporter: If I can run an article on Vil Schoenheit, then there's no doubt that both magazine sales and website traffic are gonna go through the roof!

Reporter: Alright, now I just gotta hop this barrier so I can cover Vil Schoenheit up close…

[Grrk…]

Azul: Oh, my, it is dangerous to attempt to climb the barrier. Please take all photographs from the designated area.

Reporter: You little brat, don't get in my way! [Azul starts pushing] Urgh, what strength! He's pushing the whole barrier back towards me…!

Azul: If those instructions cannot be followed properly, I may have to take appropriate countermeasures…

Azul: For example, I may be inclined to ring up your place of employment and file a complaint at the highest levels.

Reporter: Okay, fine, just get out of my way, then! I can't even take a picture with you like this!

Azul: How wonderful that we've reached an understanding. Vil-san, please come this way.

Vil: Thank you… You were awfully efficient in handling that.

Azul: When you've made as many deals as I have, it's not uncommon to encounter troubled clients in need of extra firm handling.

Azul: I'm just glad I was able to put the mediation skills I've accumulated to good use.

Vil: Not only are you handling the press well… But you are doing a fantastic job as my escort.

Azul: Well, it also is not uncommon for me to host prospective business contacts personally, either.

Azul: Ah, we are almost at the staircase.

Azul: Right this way. If you wish, my hand is yours to take.

Vil: Well, then. I shall accept it.

―A few days later

[Mostro Lounge]

Octavinelle Student: Welcome!

Azul: Oh my… If it isn't Vil-san! You've come, as promised! I'm so elated.

Vil: Excuse you. I don't recall ever promising you anything. However…

Vil: I was merely thinking back to how you handled yourself previously. I do expect exceptional service today as well.

Vil: Business seems to be going well… Are you using that tea set you purchased back then?

Azul: I am. Right now… The guests at that table are enjoying the tea served in it.

Deuce/Epel: AHAHAHA!

Vil: …There is no way those two even remotely understand the worth of those cups.

Vil: Neither would the rest of these customers. Do you still think that it was worth selecting that specific set?

Azul: Absolutely. I vow to serve drinks and meals on quality dishes that I have personally selected.

Azul: That is something that I will never compromise as the proprietor of the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: You yourself would never touch clothes or cosmetics that don't suit your design or aesthetic taste, yes?

Vil: So, just as I carefully concoct my personal brand by being particular on how I fashion myself…

Vil: You look to enhance the Mostro Lounge by careful consideration of the tableware and table linen.

Vil: I think that fastidious approach of yours is just as spectacular. Perhaps I have judged you a tad harshly.

Azul: Why, thank you. I fully believed that you of all people would understand, Vil-san.

Azul: However… I cannot deny that at times I would like to share that appreciation of the tableware's elegance with someone who actually understands their worth.

Azul: That being said, Vil-san, allow me to prepare your order on my absolute finest plates.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #vil schoenheit #deuce spade #epel felmier #twst azul #twst vil #twst deuce #twst epel #twst grim #twst yuu #twst translation #twst tapis rouge #mention: eric

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amalfieeceramic · 1 year

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The Unsurpassed Beauty of Ceramic Tea Cups and Saucers

Ceramic tea cups and saucers have been a beloved part of tea culture for centuries, adding timeless elegance and beauty to any tea time. Whether you're hosting a formal tea party or enjoying a simple cup of tea with friends, ceramic tea sets can bring sophistication to your experience. In this blog, we'll explore the history and appeal of ceramic tea cups and saucers, as well as provide tips for choosing the perfect set for your needs.

History and Appeal

Ceramic teacups and saucers have a long-standing tradition in tea culture, tracing back to ancient China where it was first cultivated. The art of making them was perfected in China but quickly spread throughout the world, becoming popular among all types of tea lovers.

The appeal lies in their timeless elegance and beauty; they offer a classic look that can make any tea time more sophisticated - from casual gatherings with friends to formal occasions. They also provide comfort while drinking since they are designed with a stable base that catches any drips or spills from the cup itself.

Choosing the Perfect Set

When selecting your ceramic teacup set there are several factors you should consider: size, design/aesthetics, quality/durability. Firstly, consider if the size is suitable for your preferences - some sets are larger or smaller than others so it's important to find one that fits your needs perfectly. Secondly, choose one that has an aesthetic that suits you - there is an array of styles available from minimalist designs to intricate patterns – so pick one that matches your taste! Lastly, check if it's made from high-quality materials – look out for ones labeled “dishwasher safe” which are designed to withstand frequent use without chipping or cracking easily over time.

#Ceramic Tea Cups #Ceramic Tea Cups and Saucers

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baeksqt · 6 months

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what do I call you? — elisa de almeida

elisa de almeida x fem!reader

(a/n: another short piece from one barista to another ^_^ enjoy my luvvies)

word count: 805

genre: fluff

The mellow, narrow streets of your small northern town were no small feat against the hectic streets of Paris that you now found yourself working in, during the city’s morning rush hour. The light pink cherry blossoms fall to settle on the awning of your aunt’s cafe. Choosing to work here as you continued job hunting in the city, which you weren’t having the most luck in.

You were behind the counter, presenting the freshly baked cakes on the display fridge, the odd scent of vanilla and coffee filled the air. It was midday and the small cafe was now empty, with a few customers either working or idly sipping their beverages.

Cloudy with a cool chill in the air, the quiet breeze was now noticeable as the hanging plants swayed, with the shopkeeper’s bell chiming, notifying someone’s arrival.

You lift your head to see Elisa, the regular you slowly acquainted yourself with over the last few months—as well as your neighbour.

Once you set the last cake stand down, Elisa is already waiting for you at the counter, throwing you her toothy grin.

“Good afternoon, to my favourite barista!” Sending you a salute, she was dressed in her practice gear, the dark blue ensemble fit her well as your eyes raked down her body.

You walked to the other end of the bar, meeting her hazel eyes, matching her smile, your heartbeat skipped for an instant. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you quickly turned to the coffee machine to get set on making her usual order, the standard flat white.

As you steam the milk, trying to get the right amount of foam to build up in your pitcher, you look over your shoulder to see Elisa setting her bag down at one of the booths by the front of the restaurant before meeting you back up at the counter.

“You weren’t here this morning,” you say as you pour the hot milk into the small ceramic. “My aunt asked for you.” Creating a small heart in the coffee, dragging the milk pitcher across slightly.

Elisa lets out a low chuckle and confesses “I woke up surprisingly late, so I wasn’t able to grab breakfast.” You turn back towards Elisa, placing her coffee on a saucer and sliding it towards her. As she reaches for it, her warm hand brushes against yours, and you can't help but notice the crinkles around her eyes as they light up in gratitude. She whispers a small thank you, and you can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having made her day a little bit better.

As you untied the apron from your waist, you slid into the comfortable leather booth and rested your chin in your hand. You swirled the warm peppermint tea around in your cup, taking in the aroma and feeling the steam rise to your face. You looked across to find Elisa watching you with a hint of a smile as she took a sip of her coffee. Her hair fell slightly forming a delicate curl above her eyes. The atmosphere in the cafe was peaceful, and the low chatter of the other patrons provided a soothing background noise.

“What? Is the coffee bad?” With knitted brows, you leaned forward a little, eyes swiftly darting between the coffee cup and the Parisian’s calm expression.

“No, no, the coffee is good, I promise,” she reassured you, drinking up a small spoonful, “I told your aunt to pass on my message to you, but I don’t think she did.” She continued.

You shake your head slightly, trying to retrace if your aunt had said anything about Elisa before she hastily left before lunch. “I don’t think so either,” you murmur to yourself “What was it?” Looking on inquisitively, taking another sip of your tea.

Elisa takes a small breath, her face slowly turning pink. “Well, we should hang out more often, outside of all this,” she gestured to the cafe, “you mentioned that small jazz club around the corner, you haven’t gone without me, right?”

You hummed in response, feeling yourself blush at her sudden shyness, making you feel a little giddy at the unexpected confession.

“I bought two tickets for Sunday, my aunt doesn’t like jazz anyway.” You teased.

“Sunday works!” The player perked up.

Elisa completed her sentence and then cast a glance at the time on her phone. You realized that it was time for her to leave. She took a sip of her coffee, finishing it in one go, and then both of you got up from the cosy booth. It was time to say your goodbyes. As usual, she would wait for you to close the cafe before embarking on the walk home together.

And with that, the shopkeeper's bell chimed, notifying Elisa’s exit.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almeida imagines #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #baeksqt writes

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

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Tea Set Painting Date With Riddle Headcanons

Masterlist

Warning: I write the Reader as female

This idea came to you one day to have a tea set painting date with your boyfriend so you went to Sam’s store (since you didn’t know if there was a Twisted Wonderland equivalent of Hobbycraft and he always seemed to have everything you needed) and purchased about five to six different blank white ceramic tea sets, the appropriate paints, paintbrushes, and all of the other supplies.

Then you handmade a very formal and professional-looking invitation card, telling Riddle to come to Ramshackle on the afternoon of the next day for your date and that you already double checked with Trey and you know that his schedule is clear, which you gave to the resident baker to give to the love of your life.

Strawberry boy is very confused but on the day of the date, he finds himself knocking on the front door of Ramshackle.

He was very excited for whatever it is you’ve scheduled. Whether it’s a study date, tea party date, picnics with his beloved hedgehogs or simply just sitting side by side in complete silence - he adores every minute he spends with his precious rose ♡

He even kept your invitation all nice and secure in the drawer of his bedside table.

You greet him with a beaming smile and usher him inside where he finds a newspaper covered table with an assortment of different arts and craft supplies

When he asks you what you’ve got planned you tell him that since you enjoy spending tea time with him, you thought it might be a fun idea to decorate your own tea sets together

As strange as the proposal sounds, he’s all for it. After all, any time spent with you is worthwhile.

So you lead him towards your table and start your relaxing painting session by playing some calming classical music on your phone

At first he’s a little insecure - since he spent his childhood locked in his room studying all day he doesn’t have the first clue on how to draw and paint, making him worry on whether or not this would reflect poorly on him in your eyes - but you reassure him like you always do

“Don’t be silly, Riddle,” you smile at him, taking his hand and pressing a kiss on his knuckles before nuzzling your cheek on them, “art is subjective and beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And allow me to tell you that my eyes will always consider you and everything that you do beautiful. So just relax and have fun, dearest. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Of course I will, my rose,” he clenched his free hand into a fist in front of his mouth and turned his head away so that you don’t see his blush

So the two of you start painting together, decorating the blank tea cups, saucers and teapots with his motifs: red roses (of course), strawberries, colourful hedgehogs wearing crowns (they looked more like lopsided spiky jelly beans, though), flamingoes

You both even sign your initials inside a heart underneath every piece of crockery

Riddle is having the time of his life decorating them, scrunching his nose in concentration as he paints on all of the finer details

Usually he’d raise a fuss if he got even a speck of paint on him but he’s having so much fun and your joy is so beautifully contagious that he doesn’t even think about the possible mess.

To anyone else they look a little slapdash and unprofessional and definitely amateurish, but to Riddle they were worth more than quadruple their weight in gold.

He keeps them all in a special tea cabinet in his bedroom so that he proudly gaze upon them in his own time, and to prevent anything from happening to them

Trey has walked in on his friend lovingly staring at one of the sets at multiple points in time

At first he was too scared to use them because he was worried that they’ll get damaged and he doesn’t want your handiwork to go to waste but you point out that tea sets are meant to be used not looked at so he relents

He likes to use them whenever he misses you, smiling fondly as he traces over your artwork

Whenever the two of you have private tea parties, you bet that those sets are going to replace the expensive one-of-a-kind limited edition royal tea set that was imported straight from the Queendom of Roses.

At one point, he was drinking from one of those tea cups during a Dorm Leader zoom meeting and he looked at everyone, just daring them to say anything about his and his precious rose’s handiwork - no really, he wanted someone to say something so that he has a reason to brag about you

Riddle in the near future: *proudly showing off the sets, which have been placed in a rich, luxurious glass cabinet* And here we have the fine china

Poor unsuspecting person: *stares confusedly at a set of tea cups with a bunch of paint splatters that appear to have been done by reception aged children*

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #fem reader

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inkedreverie · 1 year

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𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

author’s note: Well. I had this idea last year and it started out as very self indulgent fic that was originally going to just be a porn without a plot, that somehow turned into a lengthy 5k+ fic. Also I haven't written for Ransom in two years so please be kind.

pairing: ransom drysdale x mixed!rich girl! reader

warnings: featured tropes are: exes to lovers, childhood sweethearts, forced proximity, there was only one bed. angst, cheating, ransom being an asshole, soft! ransom!

summary: Y/N and Ransom's reunion ignites a spark of hope for a potential reconciliation, but the past still lingers between them.

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

She never liked high society gatherings. Endless chatter and clashed spoons against expensive china teacups were simply not her cup of tea. She knew that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and she didn't take it for granted. However, she also understood that it could be taken away from her just as quickly as it was given.

When Harlan passed away, Y/N was away at college, and she didn't fully process the news until she returned home. When she received an invitation to a High Tea party in Harlan's honor, deep down, she knew she had to go.

Harlan was more than a friend—he was like a family to her. He provided food, water, clothes, and a roof over her head when no one else would. Even though the parties bored Y/N, she knew that she owed it to Harlan to attend, and she felt guilty that she was so easily uninterested. She kept reminding herself, It's for a good cause, and you owe it to Harlan.

Y/N had been allowing her tea to go cold for quite some time now. As she raised the ceramic cup to her lips, she made the mistake of meeting her ex-boyfriend's cerulean gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, fear and excitement mingling in equal parts.

She spots a familiar face from across the room—one that she knows all too well.

Ransom stood from across the room, his arms crossed against his chest and a wicked grin plastered across his face as cerulean eyes bore into hers. She freezes for a split second, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. He shouldn't be here. How has no one else noticed him or at least greeted him at the door? A part of her begins to wonder if this is just a figment of her imagination—a product of sheer boredom from having to entertain pointless small talk with the older women at her table.

In what feels like mere seconds, Ransom is beckoning her over to him, index finger curled. Her mind is reeling, her heart hammering in her chest as she realizes that he's sure to make a scene if she refuses. She knows that he doesn't take rejection well. He's never been one to react well to being told no, or to anything getting in the way of him getting his way.

She slowly lowers her tea cup and saucer, her eyes still captivated by his. As she lowers her cup, it falls, pouring warm tea down the front of her dress. She gasps, just managing to catch the china cup before it hits the ground and shatters. When she stands from her seat, all eyes are on her. One of the ladies gives her a sympathetic glance and says, "Oh no. Why don't you get that all cleaned up, dear?"

Despite the discomfort of all the attention, she forces a small smile and makes her way across the room, sliding between the other tables in front of her. She finally makes her way across the room. "What are you doing here?" Y/N whispers to him, a hint of anger in her voice.

"What? No greeting? Not even a simple 'Hey, how are you?' I'm so happy to see you again." Ransom replies in a hushed, sarcastic tone, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"It's not nice to see you," she retorts, raising a brow and crossing her arms.

As he looks at the damp patch on her dress, she narrows her eyes. He gives her an impish look, and she feels the urge to grab him and demand answers. She knows it is not a coincidence that he showed up. But instead of reacting, she takes a deep breath and pushes past him.

As she hurries into the bathroom, she grabs a few paper towels and dabs at the wet patch on her dress. She mentally curses herself for letting Ransom distract her. Her mother had gifted her the dress for the event. An event that was supposed to be about Harlan. She sighed, shaking her head. Y/N was still processing his death, even though it had been several weeks after his funeral.

Her thoughts quickly shift back to Ransom. How dare he think he could just waltz back into her life after years of not being around. As she fixed her dress, she tried to calm her racing heart and take deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn't let Ransom ruin the entirety of her day. She needed to stay strong and not let him get to her.

As the bathroom door creaks open, Y/N sees Ransom's reflection in the mirror, making her jaw clench in frustration. "So," he starts, walking over to her by the sink, "our connection is still so strong that you can't help but spill tea when you see me, huh?" His voice is teasing, as if he's enjoying watching her squirm. He knows he’s pushing her limits but, he’s missed her and can’t help but tease her about the incident now that they’re away from prying eyes.

Even though she knows she shouldn't give him the satisfaction, she can't help but feel a twinge of anger at his words. She turns to face him, trying not to let her emotions show on her face. It's hard to maintain a cool facade when all she wants to do is scream at him for his arrogance. She takes a deep breath and gathers herself. She won't let him win. She won't give him the satisfaction of seeing her react. She'll stay calm and collected, no matter what he says or does.

"Please don't flatter yourself. It's just a dress, and I'm used to dealing with spills," she snaps, turning back to the mirror. "And better yet, I'm used to dealing with men who don't respect boundaries." She seethes, her voice dripping with contempt. She hated how he could get under her skin so easily. So much for trying to stay calm.

"Oh? So I'm just a man who doesn't respect your boundaries, eh?" he grins, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He watches her pat dry her dress, his taunting smile widening. "You know, I remember a time when you loved it when I invaded your space."

She ignores his gaze, now fixing her curls. "Yeah, well that was when I was young and foolish and it was before you broke your promise." Her voice is cold, her anger evident in every word.

She refuses to let Ransom win this argument, no matter how much he tries to provoke her. She's better than that, and she won't let him get the best of her. She tries to steady her breathing and focus on the task at hand, refusing to let him take up any more space in her head.

Ransom chuckles, shaking his head. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you still have feelings for me. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, even now.” His words pierce through her defenses, making her feel vulnerable. But she won’t let him control her, and she certainly won’t let him weaken her resolve.

Y/N finishes touching up her appearance. She straightens out her pink floral dress before turning to him. “I’m sure you would like that but, I have a boyfriend. And he’s..perfect. And ten times better than you.” She makes her way toward the door when Ransom grabs her wrist tightly.

His grip was rough and firm. "Don't even think about comparing our relationship to whatever you have now. You and I had something real, something special," he growls, his voice low and threatening. He forcefully grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer to him as he leans in to whisper in her ear. "Don't you remember?" His breath on her skin sends shivers down her spine.

She can't deny how he's making her feel: confusion, anger, frustration, panic. But she still won't let him weaken her resolve. She's stubborn and would rather die than admit he's right. Her anger boils up again, coursing through her veins. "Ransom, let me go!" She grits through her teeth, her eyes glancing around nervously as she hears footsteps outside the bathroom door.

As soon as they hear the knob to the bathroom door turning, Ransom instinctively grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the bathroom stall. Y/N's heart beats faster at the fact that she's this close to him, his chest an inch away from hers.

She notices his soft, expensive black suit, his hair perfectly pulled back. His cologne, sharp and intense, instantly invades her nostrils like the biting cold of winter wind. He raises an index finger to his lips, cautioning her to stay quiet.

She rolls her eyes and looks away, hoping they won't get caught. She can't afford to be seen by the other ladies, who would surely spread the rumor around town. Holding her breath, she peeks through the crack in the bathroom stall door as the older ladies, dressed in matching pastel silk dresses and sparkling pearl earrings, gather by the sink. The ladies all look so prim and proper, each one talking softly in a hushed tone like they are in church. Y/N feels like she is going to choke on her breath, but she keeps silent.

"That's Mrs. Wellington. If we keep our voices low, she won't even hear us," Ransom whispers, his gaze piercing through her soul. His knuckles trail down her arm, and goosebumps ghost over her skin. "Does that boyfriend know how to touch you? Does he know how to kiss you?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, his tone husky. He’s testing her. He knows she can’t make a scene unless she wants to risk getting caught. He’s got her cornered and he enjoys it immensely.

His words pierce her heart like a dagger, rekindling the pain and emotions Ransom once caused. At this moment, her resolve wavers, and for a moment, she struggles to maintain the anger she felt only moments before. She turns to face him, her eyes locked on his. Her voice is determined as she speaks, but there's an undercurrent of sadness in her words.

"I'm better off without you."

She knows it's a lie, but she says it with such conviction as if she's trying to convince herself as much as him. But she can’t deny that she's not ready to let him go, despite all the pain he's caused. She still holds out hope that things will work out between them, even though she knows it's a naive wish.

The air in the room feels thick with tension. Ransom leans back, putting his large hand on her shoulder. She thinks for a moment that he believes her. Suddenly, they both hear the clicking of heels as Mrs. Wellington, the head of the group, dressed in a bright teal silk dress, walks by with the other women. Their coiffed hair forms perfect crowns upon their heads as they exit the bathroom.

She dashes towards the door, but she feels Ransom grab her wrist again. His annoyance is evident in his voice as he questions her. "Do you really think you can lie to me after all these years?" He asks. "I just need to know that you feel the same way about him as you used to feel about me."

Y/N looks at Ransom, searching for sincerity in his eyes, and she finds it. She can't bring herself to lie about loving her boyfriend. Or the fact that she’s hurt him deeply, the pain evident in the way he’s looking at her. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She's speechless. Tears start to flood her eyes, and she shakes her head, whispering, "I can't... I can't do this."

With that, she pulls herself away from Ransom’s grasp and rushes out of the bathroom, leaving him behind.

One week later,

Linda Drysdale had invited Y/N and her mother to Harlan's old house. They hadn't seen her since she had left for college, and part of her was excited to see them. But another part of her felt nervous. She still hadn't gotten over what had happened between her and Ransom, an event that had been replaying in her mind like a broken record.

Ransom was like a phantom, with him invading her mind even more than before. She knew there was a chance that he'd be there, as it was his family's house. Just the thought of having to deal with him made her stomach churn.

The ride over to Harlan's estate was quick, with Y/N trying her best to act fine. But despite her efforts, she couldn't help but feel her mother's concerned gaze. When her mom touched her shoulder and asked her if she was okay, she forced a smile on her lips and said she was fine. But she was far from it.

When they parked in the driveway and stepped out of the car, Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door with her mother beside her. Linda answered the door and greeted them with a hug, putting her at ease. “Oh, I'm so happy you guys could make it,” she beamed as she pulled them both into her embrace. “And look at you,” she said, taking a good look at Y/N. “You look so grown-up! Come in, dinner is almost ready.” Linda stepped aside and let them walk inside.

As they walked past the foyer, Y/N noticed that the house was just how she remembered it. The living room was expansive, smelling as if Harlan had still been alive there. The aromas of the musty bookshelves, tobacco smoke from his old pipe, and the woodsy scent from the handmade furniture all came together to create a unique and nostalgic fragrance.

For a moment, she felt at ease until Linda called out from the kitchen. "Ransom! Come down here, dinner is ready!" Her heart dropped in her chest as she heard the floorboards creak above her, followed by the sight of Ransom descending the stairs.

He gave her a smug smile, seeing the look of shock on her face."What? You didn't think I'd ditch my own family's dinner party, did you?" he asked, his tone playful but with a hint of triumph.

She was left speechless as Ransom walked into the dining room, her shock almost enough to leave her unable to move. But she recovered quickly and followed him into the room, surprised to see that everyone had already taken their seats. Linda sat with her mother on one side of the table, and Richard was at the head of the table, leaving Y/N to sit between her mother and Ransom.

Feeling her heart pounding, she forced a nervous smile and took her seat next to Ransom, determined not to let her fear show on her face. Throughout the course of the meal, she felt his gaze linger on her every so often. But she kept her true feelings hidden beneath a forced smile.

Moments after dinner ended, Linda began to cry. Richard leaned over the table, holding her hands and asking, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about Harlan and how happy he would have been to see us all together. He adored the two of you so much." Linda replied, wiping her tears and nodding at Y/N and Ransom.

Y/N offered Linda a grateful smile, transported back to the times she had spent at Harlan's country estate. As she sat there, wrapped up in memories and emotions, she felt her heart ache.

Eight years ago.

Y/N and Ransom laughed as they ran down the halls of Harlan’s country estate. She suddenly darted into one of the studies, jumping onto the desk in the middle of the room. Ransom sauntered over to her.

"Bad move," he said as he approached, his eyes full of mirth. She smirked and shrugged, feeling his hands grip her chin. His thumb grazed over the soft skin of her jawline. He was now only an inch away from her. His arms caged her in, with both of his hands resting on the desk on either side of her hips.

"I missed you today," Ransom whispered, looking down at her lips. A playful glint shone in his eyes as he drew her face closer to his own, their lips almost touching. Her heart raced, knowing that he was just waiting for her to make the first move.

"I've caught you now," He said, his voice low and mischievous. "What's my prize?"

Y/N blushed, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath. "You can have...anything you want," she gazed up at him with her eyes, trying to not make it obvious that she was feeling nervous. Ransom's smirk widened, and he leaned in again, moving his lips close to her ear, a low murmur filled the air. "Anything I want, huh?" he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. Her body tensed up, not sure how she should react to his words.

She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts as she heard the sound of dishes being cleared by the butler. Richard stretched and looked out the window. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, shaking his head as he took in the sight of the heavy rain outside. Linda's eyes widened at the sight of the storm. "Oh no. We can't let you leave in that kind of weather," Linda said. "You can stay the night. We have plenty of room, you know that."

Her mother stood up from the table. "I appreciate it, Linda, but I don't want to impose. I know you're still grieving."

"Don't be ridiculous! We insist. It wouldn't be right if we left you to brave the storm," She insisted.

Y/N's heart raced at the thought of spending the night with Ransom. As she followed her mother into the living room, she felt a mix of anxiousness and excitement. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of the storm raging outside the windows. She knew it wouldn't be easy to sleep in the same room as Ransom, especially with their history. But the thought of being close to him again, even if it was just for one night, made her stomach flutter with anticipation.

The storm seemed to mirror the tension between her and Ransom, each drop of rain a symbol of the emotions that threatened to overflow and burst, just like the storm. The sound of the rain against the windows created a haunting ambiance in the room, adding to the awkwardness of the conversation.

As Linda and Richard joined them, her dread only intensified. She tried to hide her discomfort but she could feel the tension building like the storm outside. She wished they would leave before things got any worse.

"Your mother can take the guest bedroom," Linda said. "And, Y/N, we don't have another empty room here. You and Ransom will have to share a room. I'm not ready to clean out Harlan's room just yet." Her tone was melancholic as she spoke as if she didn't want to burden Y/N with her request. Y/N's guilt grew with every passing moment, knowing she had no choice but to comply with the request.

Ransom tried to suppress a grin, which only made the situation worse. She felt as though the floor was rising and falling beneath her, the weight of the situation crushing her like a ton of bricks. Her thoughts raced with dread, wondering how she could possibly share a room with her ex and still keep her sanity.

As everyone went to their assigned bedrooms, Y/N stood there, contemplating her options. Sleeping on the couch in the living room wouldn't be a good idea since she would have to explain herself, but sleeping with Ransom was even worse.

She knew she wouldn't get any rest, no matter what she did. "Shall we?" Ransom asked, the smirk on his face growing wider. She let out a heavy sigh and shoved past him up the stairs, his presence behind her like a dark shadow.

The bedroom was lavish, with a black, modern desk filled with papers and pens, a tall wooden bookshelf, a spacious walk-in bathroom, and a king-sized bed with black, modern sheets and a leather ottoman at the end. It was a far cry from her simple bedroom back home, and she felt out of place as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Ransom followed, sitting down next to her, and reached over to tuck a strand of her hair that had fallen in her face.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her body as his fingers grazed her skin. They sat there in silence, the intensity between them palpable. Y/N could feel her heart racing, knowing this was not how she wanted her visit back home to go. As she looked around the room, she couldn't help but feel uneasy and uncomfortable in the situation.

Y/N shrugged Ransom's hand away and got up from the bed, crossing her arms against her chest. She took a deep breath before speaking, determined to make her boundaries clear. "Okay, let's get something straight," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto Ransom's. "We are not sleeping in the same bed! Absolutely not!"

To her surprise, Ransom let out a light chuckle and his arrogant smirk reappeared on his smug face, making her heart race with a mix of irritation and attraction. She tried to ignore it, reminding herself that this situation was temporary and that she can make it through this. "And where would you have me sleep?" Ransom asked, a mocking tone in his voice, making her stomach knot with anger.

She shook her head with frustration, refusing to let him get under her skin. Despite her desire to see him suffer, she knew it was best to keep her emotions in check. "I don't know, but definitely not in the same bed as me," she replied, feeling the awkwardness in the room mounting with each word.

Ransom's eyebrows raised, and for a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt, knowing she was pushing him away. She took a step back, trying to distance herself from him, and repeated her boundaries with more force. "I don't care," she repeated, her voice getting louder with each word. "I'm not sharing a bed with you."

His smile faded, and his expression grew serious as he realized Y/N was not going to change her mind. "Fine," he said, his tone low but not unkind. He turned to the couch and sat down, letting out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

Another wave of guilt washed over her at the sight of him sitting there, alone on the couch. Maybe she had been a little too harsh. But she reminded herself that she had set her boundaries, and sticking to them was important. She stood up and made her way over to the couch, sitting down next to him, and nervously fumbled with her fingers.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said, keeping her voice low. "I know this is a weird situation, but I need to stick to my boundaries. I'll take the couch, and you can have the bed, okay?"

He chuckled softly and shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Y/N, we're both adults," he said with a small grin, his eyes meeting hers. "What's the big deal with us sharing a bed for one night?"

Despite his light tone, Y/N couldn't help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over her. A part of her wanted to trust Ransom and let down the walls she built up, but another part of her reminded her to keep her guard up. Reluctantly, she shook her head again. "I'm just not comfortable with it," she said softly. "I'll be fine on the couch."

Ransom nodded slowly, acknowledging her decision, but she couldn't help but feel the weight of his disappointment. Without another word, he stood up and grabbed his pajamas before disappearing into the bathroom with a small sigh.

After a few moments, he stepped out of the bathroom, only wearing his gray pajama pants. She fought the urge to lower her gaze, her eyes wanting nothing more than to linger on his well-toned chest for a moment. "Do you want to change?" he asked, holding his clothes in his arms. Y/N hesitated, trying not to let her emotions show on her face. "Nope, I'm fine in these clothes," she lied, looking down at the black midi dress she was wearing.

He threw his clothes on the end of the ottoman, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh come on! Will you stop acting like that?" he said, teasingly. "I swear, you look like I'm about to take away your virtue or something." Y/N couldn't help but laugh, feeling some of the tension leave her body, realizing that she had been holding her breath this whole time.

He was right. She was being childish, refusing to change into more comfortable clothes. They were both adults. They could both sleep in the same room without giving in to their desires. Right? "Sorry Ransom, but I think you stole my virtue away from me a long time ago." She teased, cracking a small smile. "Fine. Do you have anything I could borrow for the night?"

"Of course," Ransom said, seeming to relax a bit. It was the first time in a while that Y/N hadn't looked like she wanted to punch him in the face, and he was pleased that she seemed to be opening up to him more. Deep down, he hoped that maybe they could get back to how things used to be. He walked over to his dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

"Here you go," he said, handing her his clothes. Y/N smiled again, but this time it was genuine, compared to the forced and angry ones he had seen in the past. She whispered a soft, "Thank you" before walking towards the bathroom to get changed.

He felt a certain urgency to follow her into the bathroom and kiss her and wrap his arms around her. To feel her body pressed against his. But he knew it wasn’t the right time. Another sigh escaped his lips as he turned around, beginning to pull the covers down and crawl into bed.

–

A sudden crackling sound woke Y/N and Ransom in the middle of the night. The sound of thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, accompanied by flashes of lightning that lit up the room. The power went out soon after, leaving the room dark except for the moonlight sneaking in through the windows.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, feeling a tinge of fear rising within her. "Ransom?" she asked, her voice a slight shake.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, sounding irritated but not at her. He tried flipping the switch, but it was dead. "I think the storm cut the power out," he said, sounding annoyed but not directing it at her.

Y/N let out a heavy sigh. "Great," she grumbled. She pulled the blanket up closer to her chest, but it did little to add warmth. The cold quickly filled the room, and a chill slowly crept through the entire house. She could make out the shape of Ransom's face despite the darkness, thanks to the moonlight creeping through the window.

Despite the circumstances, Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as she looked at him. She quickly suppressed the feeling, reminding herself of their current situation. Staying safe and warm was her top priority, not her feelings for Ransom.

There were a few moments of silence, and Y/N started to shiver under the weighted blanket, her teeth chattering as she tried to bury herself deeper under the covers. Ransom broke the silence, his voice low and gentle. "Y/N, the power's out and it's going to be a long night. We might as well keep each other warm," he said.

His words were comforting, but she hesitated for a moment. As much as she craved the warmth of his body, she couldn't bring herself to face him. Her emotions were already running high, and she didn't trust herself to keep them in check.

Finally, she mustered up the courage to stand up from the couch and crawl into bed with him. She shifted, her back facing Ransom's chest. She snuggled up close to him, his body heat a welcome comfort in the otherwise cold room.

As she relaxed into him, she felt a small flutter of excitement in her chest, which she tried to suppress but it was futile. She let out a slow breath, trying to slow her racing heart. Ransom felt her shivering frame press against him as he pulled more of the covers up over the two of them.

He began rubbing her arms up and down, in an attempt to provide her with more warmth. "Does that feel better?" he whispered, his voice low and gentle. His lips curved up in a small smirk at the fact that he got to hold her in his arms again. Something he’d missed for the longest time. Despite not being able to see her face, he knew she was awake by the tense muscles in her body and the heavy breathing he could hear.

"Yeah. It feels nice." Y/N replied, her voice shaking a little from the cold. Ransom leaned closer to her ear, speaking in a low voice. "You know, you would probably get more warmth if you were facing me." There was a moment of hesitation, and then she finally replied. "I’m fine the way I am. Plus, you’re only saying that because you want me closer to you."

"Maybe," he chuckled softly, pulling her hair back from her face. For a moment, he brushed his fingers against her cheek, a gentle touch that she could barely feel through the blankets. "Or maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face." As Ransom's fingers continued to brush against her skin, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

She didn't know how to react to his small gesture of affection and sighed deeply, realizing that he wasn't going to let up. Reluctantly, she shifted onto her right side, looking away from him. "Is this better?" she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Ransom smiled softly, gently trailing his finger down toward her jaw. He knew that he shouldn't push her too much, but he couldn't help himself. He had a hard time controlling himself around her. Every time he looked at her, it reminded him of when they were together and happy. A part of him hated how they had grown apart.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I miss you, Y/N. I miss how close we were before." The words came out in a whisper, barely audible in the quiet room. But they hung in the air, heavy and full of emotion. "I never meant to hurt you that night. I was stupid and I felt like I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I…I didn’t want to hold you back."

Her breath hitched as he said those words. She knew deep down that there was no turning back now. The expression on his face was soft, and there was a tinge of remorse in his eyes. For a moment, he looked just like the boy she remembered all those years ago before they both headed off to college.

"I..." she hesitated, struggling to find the words. Then, with a deep breath, she uttered the words she had been wanting to say for so long. "Ransom, you were never holding me back. I would’ve followed you anywhere. You...you broke my heart..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Before she could say anything further, Ransom pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her waist. Their faces were so close together, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. It was a tempting sensation, one that made her heart race. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her right now, and she knew it.

“Don’t you think I know that? I regret that every damn day. It was the biggest mistake of my life,” Ransom whispered in her ear. His breath was hot on her temple as he spoke, and she could feel the tremors in his voice. It was clear that he was just as torn up about the situation as she was.

"Ransom," she murmured, pressing a hand to his bare chest. She knew where this was going and feared what she might do. Their connection had always seemed otherworldly - a drug that she had never been able to get enough of, even after they'd separated. He'd always been a source of temptation, a pull that she'd never been able to resist. She never loved anyone else quite like she did him.

He leaned his forehead against hers, a spark of desire in his eyes. "Tell me this feels wrong and I'll stop," he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction as he asked.

She sighed softly. She knew it was wrong, but the pull of temptation was too strong to resist. She couldn't force the words out - deep down, she wanted this too. And the way that he was looking at her right now - it made her heart race even faster and her belly twist with delicious uncertainty.

She closed the gap and kissed him passionately. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, even closer than before. He was stunned at first and then, without a moment's hesitation, he kissed her back. It was fierce and passionate, with a certain roughness that she had missed for so long. His hand cradled her neck as they kissed, a feeling that she never wanted to end.

A few minutes after they locked lips, she pulled away, leaving them both panting and trying to catch their breath. Even in the dimly lit room, she could still make out the familiar outline of Ransom's mischievous grin. "Just give me another chance to love you," Ransom whispered, his voice laced with sincerity and hope. "Give me another chance to show you the kind of love that you deserve. I promise I won't let you down again."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she listened to his words. It was something she had been hoping for, for the longest time, and now it was finally becoming a reality. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, she replied, "Ransom, losing you once was painful enough. I don't want to ever go through that again."

Y/N felt a sense of vulnerability wash over her as she spoke, but she pushed through it, determined to see this through. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him once more as their bodies intertwined beneath the sheets.

banner credit: @.saradika

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale oneshot #my writings #knives out

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julieschulerart · 1 year

Photo

The Green Tea Set. https://www.etsy.com/listing/1015119948

#art #painting #ceramics #tea set #jade #green #cup #saucer #teapot

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mrs-luigi-vargas · 1 month

Text

One Track Mind

Rating: General Audiences Characters: Peach, Mario, Luigi, Toadsworth Relationships: Mario & Peach, Mario & Luigi Tags: Fluff, Nonverbal Mario

Summary: Mario comes back from a trip with some souvenirs. Word Count: 1,376 words

[AO3 Link]

~~~

Taking a deep breath of floral-scented garden air, Peach placed her cup of tea back onto its saucer with a soft clink. The cup was long empty, as was the accompanying teapot; the cup sitting across from her on the garden table, on the other hand, was still half-full of tea. Not that the person who’d been sitting across from her had disliked it; he’d loudly expressed his delight as soon as its flavor had hit his tongue. Peach still wasn't sure why Luigi had been surprised. It wasn't like she wasn't going to make his favorite tea for their little meetup.

Regardless, Peach and Luigi had spent the last few hours here in the castle gardens catching each other up on the books they’d been reading lately — Peach absorbed in the discussion enough to only get through one cup of tea and Luigi rambling on and on enough to get through many more than one up until his bladder finally got through to him and he’d begged off to use the restroom.

So Peach waited for him to return, and soon enough she heard footsteps approaching. “Oh, Luigi,” she said, turning around, “I was thinking about that prince character...do you think she’s actually —?”

The words Peach was going to say next died in her throat. Because, well.

The true reason Luigi had been visiting her today was for a change in routine from minding an empty house. Mario, as was per usual when Bowser was quiet for an extended period of time, had an accumulated wanderlust that had demanded an outlet lest he vibrated out of his own skin and crumbled into dust (Luigi’s description, not hers). As such, Peach had decided to fill two needs with one deed and pointed him toward one of the kingdoms she both hardly had contact with outside the quarterly letter and the occasional formal event and knew Mario hadn't been to yet. If anyone could give an honest and inadvertently thorough account of how a kingdom’s citizens and culture were doing, it was Mario, for sure. And by the last letter he’d sent, he wasn't due back for another week or so.

So it was a complete surprise to see him standing before her now. Least of all looking like he’d picked a fight with a gang of Thwimps and had only barely managed to win by the skin of his teeth.

“Mario?!” Peach rushed forward to him. “What — what happened?”

Mario waved hello, eyes unfocused; as the motion finished he blinked down at his hand as if he was seeing the bandages wrapped around it for the first time. Peach took that hand, and used the point of contact to assess the rest of Mario’s injuries. Her lips pursed as she realized that, while none of them were life-threatening, he had way too many for her to heal on the spot. They’d need to go to the castle’s medical wing.

But when Peach said as much to Mario, Mario only tilted his head absently. He wouldn't follow her out of the garden either, not when she tried to herd him out nor when she tried to push him along by the shoulder (to which he hissed in pain and she immediately stopped). “Mario, please,” she said, growing frustrated. For all his self-sacrificial tendencies, he usually ultimately listened to her about attending to his own injuries!

Mario considered her. His face broke into a grin; with a splash of eagerness in his eyes he rooted around in his inventory, and placed an object into Peach’s hands.

Peach examined it hesitantly. In a little ceramic pot of fake dirt sat a little artificial tree; copper colored wires coiled up to shape the trunk, splitting off into branches dotted with little multicolored crystals that sparkled in the sunlight and would probably throw pretty spots of translucent color all across her desk and she was letting herself get distracted by this.

“Thank you,” Peach said automatically. She placed the gift on the edge of a nearby flowerbed. “Can I take you to the medical wing now? It would be good to treat your injuries before Luigi sees you and worries.”

Mario perked up at the mention of Luigi’s name. Peach cursed internally as Mario spotted the extra tea cup and realized Luigi was nearby. Fine. Okay. She could work with this. Luigi would want his brother to go to the medical wing, too. And unless Luigi came back right now to say so, then it was still up to her to get him there before —

“Mario?!”

On a second story balcony, Luigi leaned over the railing, eyes wide. Mario grinned up at him; it warped the bruise on his face. Peach could see Luigi’s face fall from here. Luigi looked around for the quickest way back down to the garden; said way was, technically, the direct line from him to Mario. So over the railing he jumped, falling into a tree. Then into a hedge. Then into a bush. He luckily didn't squash the daisies too badly.

Mario attempted to run to him, but made it only a few steps before stumbling. Luigi burst out of the hedge in a stumbling-run of his own to meet him. “What happened?” Luigi asked, turning Mario this way and that to examine his injuries.

“He won't go to the medical wing,” Peach burst out before Mario had a chance to answer. Luigi frowned at her, unimpressed at the interruption. Peach crossed her arms and turned away with an impressive frown of her own. Mario frowned too, finally picking up on her souring mood.

“She’s just worried, bro,” Luigi reassured him. “You look really bad. Whaddaya got that can't wait until you’re healed, anyway?”

Mario hummed, reached into his inventory, and gave Luigi a little box. Luigi opened the box and held up a bundle of packets. “Oh, are these seeds?” he asked. At Mario’s nod, he beamed and (very carefully) patted Mario’s knee. “Thanks, bro!”

Though the air between them was peaceful, the brothers couldn't quite ignore Peach’s narrowed yet concerned gaze any longer. Luigi helped Mario to his feet. Now upright and with his mini-missions accomplished, the dull ache of Mario’s injuries finally caught up with him, and a grimace pushed its way onto his face. And though the phrase ‘I told you so’ was written all over her, Peach stepped forward for him to lean against so he wouldn't fall over.

Luigi stepped forward to help, too, but not before pocketing his gift and retrieving Peach’s from where she’d left it. He passed it to her. “One track mind, yeah?” Luigi stage-whispered over Mario’s head, smirking. Mario grunted, rolling his eyes skyward. A little bit of a smile came back to Peach’s face.

Together, the trio made their way out of the garden and into the castle. They’d almost made it to the medical wing when a “My word!” gave them pause. It was Toadsworth, who had heard about Mario returning early and about a commotion outside near the gardens but hadn’t realized those two things were connected. “Master Mario! What in the world happened while you were away?!”

Mario looked up from carefully placing one foot in front of their other at the sound of Toadsworth’s voice. Luigi took one glance at Mario’s shifting facial expression and sighed. “He’ll...be fine. He’s got souvenirs for everybody,” Luigi said, which was as much of an explanation as he could give considering he hadn't been given any details yet.

Toadsworth took in the scene before him: Mario’s dawning excitement, Luigi fond exasperation, that tiny yet foreboding pinch to the corners of Peach’s eyes. “I’m quite honored you’ve gotten a gift for me,” he said, “but I’m afraid I’m a bit busy at the moment. Might I visit you in the medical wing later and you can give it to me then?”

Mario considered this. He nodded, waved goodbye, and continued his shuffle down the hall. “Thank you,” Peach mouthed to Toadsworth as they passed him.

Toadsworth winked. “Let me know if there's anything you need,” he whispered back, and strolled off down the hall in the other direction. They could still hear his whistling as they passed through the medical wing’s doors.

#mario deserves to be a little incomprehensible. as a treat.#mlv.fic #smb #super mario

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