Vincent Valentine running a tea shop.
— For @/Carendsyaz1 (on Twitter)
From:
Ask Box Writing Prompt Game
📖 It's Tea Story Time...
At low volume, a strangely familiar tune can be heard playing from within. Though soft and slightly somber, there was something almost bewitching about its sound. For those who felt themselves inquisitive enough to stop by or simply take a little peek inside, the melody often served to pull them in. And if it wasn't enough to keep them there, then another provocation of the senses surely would.
While the space wasn't necessarily sizeable, it was made good use of. The interior was largely cast in black, embellished with mahogany trim and other forms of furniture and decor. Rows of shelves lined the walls - all of which were lined themselves with boxes and tins containing loose leaf tea blends. In one corner, what could best be described as "Victorian Gothic-esque" tea sets were made available with respective displays. In another, a variety of delectable baked goods could be found. It was sleek, elegant and dark. Pardoning some splashes of color, at least.
A modest collection of carmine roses and other fair forms of flower were scattered about and presented daintily, accenting the shelves and countertops. While these floral arrangements were far from abundant, oddly, their fragrance seemed to prove stronger than their number. It dared to puzzle you. Before your curiosity got the better of you, however, a door behind the counter opened.
A gentleman with long raven hair, partly obscured by a headband of a similar shade, emerged with a tray in hand. Following him, a wave of an even stronger rendition of the botanical scent wafted towards you. With a lean figure complimented by a cobalt dress shirt and black dress pants, it was soon made apparent to you...
He was tall, dark and... well... he was a pretty handsome fellow too.
Had it not been for the metallic shimmer of his silver tray, golden arm and rather pallid complexion, he threatened to blend right into the walls.
What's that? Golden arm? Why, but of course!
Donned upon his left arm was a metal gauntlet bearing a golden sheen - large, clawed and unlike anything you had ever seen an employee in your local area wear. Its peculiarity begot intrigue.
He carefully sat the tray down upon the furthest counter, retrieving a pinch of something red, then another of something violet, dropping them both into a small metal infuser. It was then that he noticed he was no longer alone.
"Welcome."
He offered a simple greeting. A moment was spared as an electric kettle was given power before he turned to face you. You were met with dark crimson eyes.
For whatever reason, you felt oddly compelled to purchase a lemon raspberry scone in particular... this same compulsion drove you to remark on the "heavenly aroma" just as well. And, as was made evident, there appeared to be a tea in the making right before your very eyes... so, naturally, one would only speculate what manner of tea it could it be, right? Right! Between the redolence and an innate sense of wonder, understandably, you found yourself pressed enough to ask about it.
Logging your order, the man then offered you a subtle nod and an even subtler smile. One that was easily missed.
He retrieved a box from nearby, handing it off to you with the assurance it was a similar blend. It was titled "Rose On The Grey."
Clearly, it contained flowers; rose petals and lavender blossoms deemed safe for consumption, but it also bore black tea layered with hints of vanilla and bergamot. In essence, it was a blend of traditional Earl Grey with mostly floral additions.
"Goes well with cream and sugar."
He added.
As you seemed preoccupied enough via examining the tea box's contents, he excused himself a moment more, tending to the now well heated kettle. He placed the infuser into a decorative black teacup, moderately gilded. It was one of two, now.
"Would you like a sample?"
Uh, yes. You would like a sample.
In fact, when he inquired whether or not you would like any additives, you insisted that it be prepared the way he would personally prepare it. To your delight, he was willing to oblige.
The lull in time placed between the present and preparing two teacups worth of specialty tea felt to pass by effortlessly. A small, intricate table made for two beckoned you over. You took a seat with your scone and the box of tea that was not quite yours (yet,) but you felt compelled to let it accompany you nonetheless. Additional details within the shop catered to the eye as you waited.
"Here."
Eventually, an elegant little cup of piping hot tea was presented to you, complete with the recommended amounts of both cream and sugar. Despite the somewhat impassive fashion in which it was bestowed upon you, you can tell it was made with love. Your intuition told you so.
Lightly blowing at the steam, you boldly went in for a sip - only to be stopped with a small "mm-mm." He had his back turned to you, returning to the counter. Had he heard you? How did he know?
The man insisted that you wait just a minute or two more, lest you burn your tongue. It was as if stories of visiting tea-samplers previous to you told themselves in the way he handled the situation.
Fine, you would wait...
... But when you were done waiting, it was all yours.
The revered first sip of the dark, mysterious shopkeeper's tea - of which seemed just as dark and mysterious, yet sweet as he.
12 notes
·
View notes
It's 2 am and I can't sleep with the thought of Hobie Brown leaving kiss marks all over his s/o face
Like- Imagine it. supermodel Hobie Brown, chilling on the dressing room with his partner, just chilling with each other. Then, he just gets up, reaches for a container of dark lipstick and just... Slowly, teasingly, sets it on his lips...
S/o immediately turns away, pretending like they weren't watching practically not blinking how their boyfriend applied the paint to his pretty lips.
He chuckles, steps closer and sits beside them. Without warning, he grabs their face and just plants a big fat kiss in their cheek. Then on their forehead. Other cheek. Lips. Jaw. It goes on and on, all the s/o can feel at this point is his warm lips, cold piercing and the sticky feeling of the lipstick coating their entire face.
When he steps back, Hobie just has this absolutely smug look on his face as he sees his finished work.
"looking good, luv."
280 notes
·
View notes