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lovelikedestiny · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday @gildingthemoon!!!

I wish you a wonderful day to celebrate and all the best in the world! <3 Today belongs only to you and I hope a lot of people tell you what an incredible human being you are!

I want to gift you with a small, fluffy, happy TOG-oneshot and thank you for being an amazing beta who fights against all errors in my drafts and is delighted by the German sayings I still use unintentionally! I’m very glad to have ‘met’ you! I hope you’ll like the oneshot and you’re grinning like a honey-cake-horse as we say here ;)

*throws a big hug at you* <3

The little things

Under the midnight blue velvet of the night in the empty streets of Malta Joe looks like a celestial being and Nicky feels himself enchanted by his appearance. By his wide, flashing smile, those warm, deep eyes which are surrounded by lovely crinkles and radiate so much emotion that Nicky sometimes has the feeling his heart couldn’t cope with the amount of happiness Joe’s very existence has gifted him with.

When they're out and about and the sun makes Joe's golden skin glow and kisses his silky-soft curls with warm rays, turning his eyes into obsidian and onyx, just so much more precious than all jewelry in the world, Nicky occasionally forgets how to breathe. Of course, after more than 900 years, he knows what his love looks like and knows him better than himself, but that doesn't change the fact that Joe is still beautiful. Beautiful and a constant at his side, who always manages to lead Nicky out of any darkness back into the light.

A cheerful, warm constant that walks by Nicky's side tonight and is the most beautiful thing Nicky has ever seen.

He promptly stumbles over the sidewalk and staggers a few steps before he manages to get hold of himself, hears Joe giggling behind him and has to grin too.

They’re not totally drunk.

The pleasant warmth in his stomach and the feeling of lightness confirm Nicky in his conclusion and he tightens his grip on Joe's hand as the latter helps him regain his balance. They are only slightly drunk, if at all. Drunk? No. Tipsy! That's the word Nicky was looking for. They're tipsy, he states with satisfaction.

"Careful, my heart," Joe says with a chuckle. “We don't want you to fall on your pretty face. It would be a real shame if you’d hurt yourself today. I like the blue shirt.”

"Really?" Nicky asks, lips curled up into a small grin, pulling Joe a little closer, who willingly follows the movement.

"Really," Joe says grinning and lets his eyes slide so clearly over Nicky's appearance that he thinks he can feel Joe's gaze like a delicate touch. “It accentuates your eyes and your shoulders. And those pants…” He flicks Nicky on the ass. "... also emphasize an area of yours that is very close to my heart. I could easily come up with ideas.”

Nicky shudders when Joe looks at him from below through his eyelashes with a look he knows all too well. Heat surges through his veins and he smiles mischievously and nudges Joe's nose. "I hope they are good ideas."

"Hm," Joe hums approvingly and hooks his fingers into the loops of Nicky's belt to pull him closer. "Very good ideas."

It's so easy to tilt his head, angling it just right, and put his lips on Joe’s who has already moved towards his mouth. Flowers of red fire bloom behind Nicky's closed lids, shooting stars of silvery light and suns of golden embers.

He enjoys the passion that surges through his veins, a steady stream that has never stopped flowing since Nicky first kissed those soft lips, which can enthusiastically recite poetry, are twisted in concentration while drawing, can smile so warmly that Nicky's heart glows, showing him how much Joe loves him when they get lost in each other's bodies amid sheets and pillows.

Nicky is convinced that they are doing good in the world. They protect the innocent, they are their shield in battle and their sword when they cannot hold one themselves and he believes in what they are doing. Just as much as he believes in his family, in Joe. But even if they can make a difference in everyday life with their good deeds, there is something essential that should not be overlooked.

The little things.

Like the sultry air that dances around them through the warmth of the day and the dark sky in front of whose midnight blue canvas the moon shines large and silver. Like Joe's elegant artist hands, which he could feel blindly and which lie firmly and securely on his hips and pull him closer to the glowing, muscular body. Like the fruity taste of good wine on Joe's tongue and the salty sweat from dancing on his lips. Like the familiar tickling of his beard on Nicky's chin and the soft texture of his curls, in which Nicky buries his fingers and elicits Joe a rumble, which Nicky catches and tastes in his mouth.

It's those little things that should be cherished.

Distant laughter causes them to break the kiss, and Nicky tries to fight the urge not to pounce on Joe again when he whines softly and tries to hold on to Nicky.

Some time ago it wasn't even possible to hold Joe in public or simply to interlace their fingers. And even if there are still people who make the world more terrible than it could be, Nicky is infinitely grateful that in most countries he is allowed to kiss the other half of his heart. To kiss Joe and laugh and dance and live with him.

As soon as Nicky thinks that, Joe starts humming and grabs Nicky's hands just to rock them gently back and forth. His eyes are soft with tenderness and Nicky can feel his heart cramp from the affection he feels towards Joe.

Even though they have been together for more than nine hundred years and Nicky knows Joe better than himself, there are still new things they learn about each other. New habits that they develop, new preferences that they discover. In moments like these, when it's just the two of them in their own bubble of peace, Nicky finds no doubt about their relationship, their solid bond that binds them invisibly and is as strong as ever.

Of course, he is much older than most people on this planet and accordingly has a lot more experience, but uncertainties still exist. It is not uncommon for Nicky to lose himself in thought because nagging doubts about a decision he has made corrode him from the inside. They make mistakes in their jobs doing good because they are human. Everybody makes mistakes.

Joe is the only thing in Nicky's long life that he never doubted. An indispensable support that gives him security, just like Nicky will always have Joe's back.

Because Joe is his heart and soul.

Too many words to say and too few words to express how Nicky feels about Joe are on his tongue, so Nicky joins Joe's humming before he starts to sing softly.

Nicky has no problem with being the center of attention, but he prefers to disappear into the background and watch everything from there. If you overlook him or he does not attract attention, others tend to underestimate him and his abilities and he has already used this to his advantage several times.

Joe is the only audience Nicky will ever need, and the knowing flash in Joe's eyes and glowing smile are the only applause Nicky really wants.

Although he and Joe often sing songs together - evenings when Nicky cooks and Joe assists him while they use a wooden spoon as a microphone and Joe starts swinging the kitchen towel while dancing are one of the best - Joe stays silent.

Swaying them gently, Joe's whole focus is on Nicky, who continues to sing a song as old as time itself, tied to precious memories that only they and no one else share. Nicky sings for Joe like he often does when Joe asks him to or he sits down in the kitchen while Nicky can't get rid of a catchy tune while cutting vegetables.

Nicky sings for Joe because Joe is the song that springs from his heart and is embedded in his bones.

As he turns Joe around, Joe laughs exuberantly and the sound reverberates in Nicky like the precious echo of a long-forgotten chiming of a bell.

"I love it when you sing," Joe says, releasing Nicky to give him a little applause, for which Nicky gives an exaggerated bow. It is not easy to stay on his feet, but since the alcohol doesn’t exist that long in their body due to their healing, Nicky doesn’t worry too much about his balance.

"I love you," Nicky replies and Joe dramatically presses a hand on his heart.

"People call me the poet, but it's your words that take my breath away, habibi." He winks at Nicky and Nicky is pretty sure that he looks back with a stupid grin.

Nicky doesn't know if it's such a good idea to climb the rock at the side of the street, but before he can change his mind he has reached the top and looks down at Joe, who is watching him with amusement.

"I could take your breath away with something other than words," he says bluntly, enjoying the effect it has on Joe. Joe swallows hard, blushing slightly, which Nicky doesn't even need to see to know it's happening. Just like the dark fire that makes Joe's eyes burn.

"Is that a challenge?" Joe asks roughly and bites his lip with a grin, causing Nicky to almost fall off the stone. He catches himself in time, but would have had no problem with falling into Joe's arms.

"A promise," he corrects smirking and Joe takes a step towards the stone and tilts his head back slightly to meet Nicky's gaze.

"Are you being funny tonight, Mr. Al-Kaysani?"

"With such good company, indeed, Mr. Di Genova."

They both giggle like silly teenagers and Joe raises an arm in the air and paces up and down in front of the stone like he's on a stage. “Standing like a Greek God on a rock,” he begins to recite. "Moonlight pouring over you and you have a beautiful..."

"Cock," Nicky finishes deadpan and Joe gasps and runs into a nearby street lantern.

"I didn't mean to say that!" He protests with a meaningful smile on his face and helps Nicky jump more or less graceful off the stone.

"You thought it, I said it," Nicky says and blinks innocently at Joe, who laughs and sways slightly.

“We complement each other perfectly, huh? Such an extraordinary coincidence.” Joe nudges him right in the side where Nicky is ticklish and the snorting laugh bursts out of Nicky inexorably as he tries to turn away from Joe.

“Didn't you read the contract? A perfect match has to be guaranteed in order to be in a relationship for nine hundred years,” Nicky says snickering and Joe pretends to be amazed.

“I had no idea about that! I always leave paperwork to you.”

Nicky nods, playing seriously. "Furthermore, the contract requires that I enjoy a cuddle at least three times a week."

"Phew, luckily I have received the world cuddler Award."

"I know. I can rightly confirm that you truly deserve this title."

It is uncertain what the night will bring them, they have made no plans. Nevertheless, the random brushing of their hands and the lingering of their pinkies on the back of the other’s hand are certain indications of what the rest of the night might look like.

"I don't need any more than confirmation of my love."

"You deserve all the acknowledgment in the world because you are expensive."

"Expensive? Do you mean ‘worth it’? ”Joe frowns. “Or was it precious? Who knows what we oh! That was an alliteration!"

"What?" Alliteration sounds a little bit like alligator in Nicky's mind, and he really hopes Joe hasn't seen one. "What was what?"

“An alliteration, you know. When we want words which...haha! Another one!”

Nicky follows Joe's gaze. "Where? Oh, that's just a cat."

"Ah, Nicolo." Joe shakes his head slightly and laughs softly to himself.

"What is it?" Nicky doesn't remember saying anything funny. "Do you want to share your thoughts? A nickel for your thoughts or whatever they say."

"I think it was a coin for your thoughts. Or dollars?”

Nicky has to snort and Joe starts laughing too. "It does not matter. We could continue this conversation at home.”

"Continue it at home?" Joe repeats indignantly. "Nicolo, we were in the middle of a conversation about stilistic means!"

"Okay, uh...if you’re able to come up with another alliteration, I'll do the thing with my tongue at home," Nicky says without thinking, completely relieved of the worries the world has in store for them, through Joe's mere presence and Malta as their retreat.

Joe laughs and raises his eyebrows. "The thing with the tongue? Ya amar, I have no idea what you’re ta- oh. Oh.“ When Joe understands, he stops abruptly, eyes widening. “Lima? Do you mean...Do you mean Lima?”

Nicky nods and keeps walking, grinning, causing Joe to pull himself out of his freeze and rush after him. "Do you really mean Lima? Oh my god, you can't just say something like that and keep walking!”

"So you are not interested?"

Joe almost chokes. “Not intere...Nicolo! It is impossible that I am not interested in it! The thing with your tongue, Lima, sweet heavens! That was...that was…” Joe seems to remember Nicky's condition and squints his eyes in concentration. "On it. How much time do I have?"

While Joe is thinking hard, Nicky indulges in the serenity of strolling and reaches for Joe's hand, which Joe withdraws and places on something else.

"Yusuf?"

"Yes?"

"That is not my hand."

"Oh sorry, I guess I got a little confused in the dark," Joe says, grinning, but doesn't take his hand off Nicky's ass.

It’s the little things, Nicky thinks by himself as he watches Joe muttering under his breath and then throwing Nicky a beaming smile when he has an idea for another alliteration. It’s the little things that make this imperfect world so perfect.

#happy birthday #gildingthemoon #the old guard #oneshot #take the mistakes as what they are: loving gifts for each of you #this draft had the title 'Nicky and Joe are drunk and adorable' on my laptop

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years ago

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Best Two Out of Three

A/N: i know y’all have been waiting so anxiously to see who won the sparring fight between demon!harry and angel!Y/N and i’m more than happy to finally give it to you guys! i hope you enjoyyyyy

word count: 7.9k

content: cocky yet lovable asshole demon!h and a smidge of filth

preview:

Y/N knows that fighting has to do with impulse just as much as training, and she knows the brain finds comfort in patterns. Lower left hip, the center of the ribcage on the opposite side, meaning that instincts expect her to strike somewhere on his left side again. This is exactly why she does the contrary, slamming her palm against Harry’s right shoulder and smirking to herself when, out of her peripheral vision, she glimpses him trying to protect his left. The impact sends him jarring backwards.

Her knee zones in on his abdomen, though he manages to block it with his conjoined fingers, catapulting her heel towards the ground. She advances forward with two quick punches between his pectoral muscles and then one straight for his jaw, which he manages to evade by ducking his head sideways. Harry returns her jaw punch with one of his own and she just barely skims by unscathed, dropping towards the floor onto her belly and slipping between her boyfriend’s parted legs. She flips onto her back, pulling her legs against her chest and then jutting her heels upwards with all her might. Harry’s ass takes the heat.

He’s launched forward, stumbling a few feet and saving himself with the pads of his extended fingers against the mat. He reels around to face Y/N (who has already recovered her footing) with an expression of shocked amusement at her target. Y/N retaliates with a coy shrug of her brows.

“You quite literally just kicked my ass.”

“And I quite literally enjoyed it.”

or Y/N challenges Harry to a sparring match with two very important prizes on the line: a strip tease versus a month of litter-box duty.

///

“First rule: absolutely no powers in any way, shape, or form.” Harry tightens the neon yellow boxing tape securely around Y/N’s knuckles, tugging the last layer with finality, ripping the excess off with his teeth. “Which means you can’t shock me with that electricity shit you do with your fingers.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s static.”

Harry tosses the roll of athletic wrap into the supplies bin he has at the corner of his work-out room, eyelids dropping over his irises in a disbelieving, humorous scowl. “I’m pretty sure static doesn’t look like pastel blue lightning.”

Y/N shrugs easily as she extends and curls her bound fingers, trying to get used to the firmness of the protective cloth. She glances upwards, batting her eyelashes at him with a blank stare of faux innocence. “You never know.”

Harry reaches into the left pocket of his starch white Nike gym shorts, fishing out a hair tie as he drifts towards a rack of bo staffs at the opposite corner of the room, pulling his messy curls into a short ponytail atop his head. Y/N can’t rip her gaze from the way the taunt muscles of his back shift with his movements, rippling beneath the thin material of his grey-wash Harley Davidson muscle tank.

“Second rule,” he picks up one of the long, waxy wooden poles, giving it a slow, full spin as he passes it between his palms, “no dirty play.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Harry’s grip clenches around the middle of the combat stick, the familiar bite of the smooth surface prickling his skin and sending a buzzing up his arm. He smirks knowingly down at his feet while Y/N distractedly peers at the veins chiseling their way up his forearm. “Neither did I, but I want a fair fight so that when I beat you, there’s no wiggle room.”

“You sound so confident, it’s gonna hurt my heart when I make you eat your words.” Y/N jolts her eyebrows challengingly, a teasing grin toying with the edges of her pursed lips.

Harry tilts his head back up, eyes focusing on his girlfriend as she rests in an instinctual defensive stance a few feet away from him, clad in an old Vans tee and a pair of black compression tights he’d let her borrow. His chin edges upward, the gesture tainted with an aura of cocksure smugness. The natural glint that reflects off the usual deep canopy green of his eyes suddenly brightens— the unmistakable sign of a darker, more reflective hue washing over it.

“Lucky for me, mine stopped beating a long time ago. Means I’ll feel absolutely nothing when I wipe you across the floor.”

“Mm, I don’t believe that.”

“You’re right. I forgot ‘satisfied joy’ is an emotion.”

Harry reaches for another staff, picking the one at the bottom rung. It’s completely black, the surface twinkling alluringly under the light that streams in through the sheer silver curtains, giving away that the weapon is made out of some type of stone or gem.

He catches Y/N studying the stick intriguingly, voicing the answer to her curiosity. “It’s made of obsidian and onyx. Forged by a good friend downstairs. It’s weighted specifically to my hand, balanced to my liking.”

With his single free hand, Harry gives the staff a few quick, skillful twirls that show off his close fellowship with the tool, the pieces of onyx strewn within the tempered obsidian bouncing the faint rays of sunlight all across the maroon walls of the room. He slams one end down onto the floor, the circular flat edge digging into the royal blue safety mat covering the entirety of the ground. “Never lost a fight with it.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side a tad, licking over her lips as excited anticipation starts sparking across the tips of her fingers. “There’s a first for everything.”

Without warning, Harry hurls the other bo staff toward Y/N with his full strength, wanting to test her impulses in order to survey his competition.

Y/N doesn’t miss a beat, her body acting on centuries of muscle memory and celestially-spiked adrenaline. Her arm shoots outwards, the staff ramming longways right into the palm of her awaiting hand, digits wrapping around it tightly as she absorbs the strength behind the blow, her own canceling it out.

Harry simply gives a satisfied nod, his bare feet padding against the vinyl plastic of the mat as he draws closer to her until they’re about a yard apart. He leans against his custom prop as Y/N lowers her’s beside her right thigh, his eyes tinted their usual jade once again, full of impressed amusement.

“Final rule: best two out of three wins and if you’re down for at least three seconds, you lose the round. The first two are hand-to-hand, the last one is with the staffs. I’m guessing you’re versed in Krav Maga, right?”

“Was there when it was invented, so obviously.”

“Jujutsu?”

“Mmhm.”

“Taekwondo?”

“Yeah.”

“Boxing?”

“Yes. I can also make a mean bologna sandwich and can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue. Are you done stalling?”

“Just wanna make sure that when I win, you don’t pull ‘I wasn’t taught that style’ as an excuse.”

Y/N lightly chucks her pole just outside the bounds of the practice mat, where it won’t be an obstacle. “I’m a little insulted you’d think so little about Heaven’s first line of defense.”

“And I just don’t want you to be a sore loser. Pettiness isn’t a cute look on you.” Harry quips as his staff is strewn across Y/N’s, the crack of the impact echoing across the entire apartment.

He starts rolling his shoulders to loosen up, craning his neck from side to side, feet shifting into a diagonal, parallel fighting position. “Did you stretch? Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle mid-kick, would we?”

Y/N mirrors his posture, pushing a few rogue strands of hair from her eyes with the back of her hand, bare feet planting themselves steadily apart as she ducks slightly, knees bending a smidge to calibrate her center of gravity. The grip of the rubbery plastic beneath her toes fills her with a type of soothing hum, her muscles purring as her senses hone into crisp awareness. She can hear the blood pumping in her ears, feel the coolness of the air expanding her lungs, and she can even make out the faint, dull ringing that is suspended in the electrified air, which fills the gap of Harry’s lacking heartbeat.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m all good.”

Harry holds up his palms in a peaceful gesture, the bright boxing tape seeming to glow in the dusky light swimming across the air. “Just trying t’be a caring boyfriend.”

His hands fall into fists, thumbs instinctively resting beneath his lower round of knuckles instead of tucking under his fingers— a method he’d learned early on in his training, conceived with the notion of preventing one from breaking their thumbs with the force of their own punches. The flat side of his forearms face outwards as a first line of defense, veins carving their way under his skin as his fists clench readily, itching for the feel of collision.

His heels carve deeper into the mat, balancing his mass and revving his nerves. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Alright. Ladies first.”

As much as Y/N hates to admit it, it makes sense that Harry won the first round.

He’d recently been assigned to coaching the newest flight of demons-in-training, meaning that for the last two weeks, he’d been practicing on his combat skills for six hours a day, five days a week. Y/N hadn’t sparred in a while— months, maybe. She was unfortunately rusty and it shows pretty evidently in how it takes Harry less than a minute to give her left cheek a mat-patterned makeover.

She had started off fairly solid with a distraction technique that she was always confident in. A punch aimed right at the center of Harry’s sternum with the intent of cutting off his airflow, which he blocked swiftly, just as she predicted he would.

What she wasn’t expecting was the form he used to block her.

Y/N expected him to throw up his forearms parallel to one another to defend himself, meanwhile she would use that split second to sweep him off his feet with a hooked kick to his right ankle. That was the original plan.

Harry threw a wrench in it.

Instead, he crosses his forearms in front of his chest, Y/N’s fist ending up wedged between them. Her eyes do a terrible job of hiding her alarmed panic as she glances up momentarily, met with an expression of conceited triumph painted over her boyfriend’s annoyingly handsome features. The sly snark in his voice makes her teeth grate. “Oops.”

The small change in tactic was enough to throw her off rhythm; the rest of the round was basically his for the taking.

He doesn’t waste a single moment, delivering a quick, sharp kick to the side of her left knee, using the hold on her wrist to twist her arm roughly, throwing her body off equilibrium. She is met with another kick right to her stomach, the front of one of Harry’s calves hitting her about an inch above the belly button, right below the ribs. Y/N crumples to her hands and knees, a deep ache radiating across every one of her bones, concentrating mainly on the points that had taken the blows. All of her attention is diverted to her labored breathing, having to consciously force herself to go through the motions, her lungs rattling with every inhale. Her eyes blur with overwhelmed tears, which she messily wipes away with the back of her hand before Harry can see them.

She’s not hurt, just stunned (the ache is ebbing away fairly quick as her self-healing kicks in). She hadn’t realized just how out of practice she was until now.

Harry allows a few seconds to drag by (both for her sake and the three-count forfeit rule) and then crouches down level with her, elbows propping on his knees as his head cocks sideways to catch her line of sight. He reaches forward and gently taps on Y/N’s nose playfully, voice airy and teasing (though there’s an obvious haughtiness in the undertone). “Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but if this is what Heaven’s first line of defense is like, it’s pretty shitty.”

He offers her his hand and after a pause of petty hesitation, she begrudgingly accepts it.

Once she’s back on her feet, she balances on one foot and lightly swings the lower half of her injured leg back and forth. The joint pops back into place, drawing a faint wince on her behalf. “Asshole.”

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me, minx.”

Y/N regains her combat stance, shuffling back a step or so for a better range of motion. “Call it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a minute to—”

“Call it.”

The second round goes much better.

She takes off at a running start, pulsing herself off the ground about two feet, coming down onto Harry with her forearms crossed. She’s met with a mirror of her gesture as Harry allows her full weight to sink against his arms and then uses the momentum against her. He pushes up and forward, feeling the force leave his muscles as Y/N flies back. She lands crouched low on her feet, not phased at all. One of her palms juts down against the mattress for stability as she swings out her left leg in one quick motion, ankle colliding with Harry’s.

He teeters backwards a bit, but manages to preserve his footing.

Y/N lunges again, a punch hitting him square in the stomach. The feeling of finally pulling one on him swells here confidence. She follows with an intricate set of moves, aiming each jab at specific pressure points that should shock her opponent’s nerves just enough to grant her a window of opportunity for a total knock out. One aimed at his left hip, which throws his torso sideways. Another at the other side, higher up, concentrated between his second and third ribs. He blocks it with his wrist, but Y/N doesn’t let it distract her this time. Her mind is racing, eyes darting back and forth across Harry’s body, analyzing it for weak links and connecting it to the technique layout in her mind.

“You quite literally just kicked my ass.”

“And I quite literally enjoyed it.”

She barrels towards him and he comes to the conclusion that it seems he underestimated her.

Harry waits until the distance between them is dangerously short and then dives to the right, his tank top rustling as she attempts to brake her trajectory. He slams his forearm flat across her upper back and then follows it up with a repeat on the lower half, but with his elbow. Y/N’s body arcs, absorbing the brutal force of the blows and processing what to do next. Harry takes this chance to fling himself onto her, arms snaking around her and gluing her arms to her sides. His girlfriend tries to break free by rending from side to side, but as soon as she realizes it’s useless, she switches tactics. Y/N sprints upwards, Harry’s body leaning back to accommodate.

Instead of landing on her feet, she allows herself to fall onto her knees on the mat, ignoring the cold shot of pain that ices the joints. She then swings her upper-body forward, tumbling across the ground with Harry in tow. She ends up on top of him, his arms still clamped around her but lose enough that she can get a dig in with her elbows. There’s a crack on impact.

Harry grunts in pained alarm, releasing her out of instinct. She rolls off him onto her stomach, pushing herself up to get her legs propped on each side of his thighs. She grabs his wrists, ramming them against the safety cushion. He struggles for a hot minute, twisting, turning, and bucking to fight her off, but eventually gives up. She’s too well calibrated to budge.

Instead, he allows his head to fall back onto the mat, emitting a low, achy groan that slowly molds into an impressed chuckle. “Fuck, that hurt.”

Y/N’s breathing is ragged, her brows itchy with sweat and eyes stinging. Most of her hair has found its was out of the carefully-crafted ponytail she’d pulled it into, tickling down her jaw and across her glistening cheekbones. “It was meant to.”

His fingers dissolve from the tight fists they were bound in, tapping against the plastic covering beneath them. His tongue swipes over his chapped lips as the edges coil into a sly, lascivious simper. “But you gotta admit, this is pretty hot."

Y/N tries to ignore the way he shifts his hips between her thighs, attempting to pray away the fact that his jogging shorts are made of a sports material so thin she can feel the chiseling of his pelvis beneath them. Her voice comes out throaty and slightly quivering, defeating any authority she’d inclined for it to carry. “Stop that.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise questioningly, expression one of fake clueless innocence as he pouts his lips in a mystified frown. “Stop what?”

His eyes dash down to where their bodies meet, then back up to meet her furrowed-brow glare. His hips begin to rub up against her harder.

“Cut it out.”

Harry softens his irises into a watery, pleading facade, quivering his lower lip dramatically. “But I’m getting close.”

“Idiot.” Y/N grumbles, dismounting now that it has been well over three seconds.

He carefully sits up, one hand resting along the area of his wounded ribs to ease them back into place (it’s a literal pain when things settle incorrectly— requires him having to rebreak the parts so they recover accordingly), the other palm propped flat on the floor behind him to help keep upright as everything heals. A warm surge undulates through his fractured bones and he can feel the pieces mending back together.

Y/N is already at the edge of the practice mat, combing her hair neatly back from her face and tying it off tighter than before to ensure it doesn’t get in the way. It’s a simple action with no meaning behind it at all, but somehow, Harry finds it infuriatingly endearing. Her perfectionism is peeking through, obvious in the way she releases a soft exasperated growl when a few rebellious strands dance across her eyes. She takes down the entire do, raking her fingers through her locks once again (with a slight vengeance) and looping the neon tie-dye scrunchie around them with annoyed finality. Her hair obliges this time.

She leans down and scoops the bo staffs into her palms, giving Harry’s one last fascinated once-over before rolling it across the ground in his direction. It thuds to a halt at his outer thigh, a muted holographic glint tennising between all the pretty jewels encapsulated in the tempered midnight glass. Harry wiggles his digits underneath his weapon, rolling it comfortably back and forth before using it to brace himself into a standing position. He hoists himself up with a strained grunt (not necessarily because it hurts, but moreso to guilt Y/N a tad for the hell of it) and twists his torso from side to side to make sure all the nuts and bolts have sifted into gear.

He contemplates his girlfriend with a slow, conceited blink and the unmistakable twitch of his plump lips, the entire regard coated thick with shit-eating smugness. She avoids his gaze by glancing down at one of the ridges in the mat, willing her eyes to keep from flaring.

The intense moment passes, Harry’s voice breaking through the atmosphere with a jesting complaint. “You broke a few ribs.”

She glimpses back up at him from under her lashes, taking in his casual demeanor as he leans against the pole easily, resting it snugly in the divet along the inside of his elbow. “And you dislocated my knee. Let’s call it even.”

He runs his teeth across the length of his lower lip, pursing it and pairing the action with a thoughtful purr. “Fair enough.”

Harry cocks his chin upwards, uncurling his index finger from the staff and making a come-ether motion.

Y/N shuffles towards him, squeezing her rod anxiously. She stops about three feet in front of him, squaring her shoulders in order to mimic his nonchalant attitude. She’s well aware of the mental manipulation that goes into phasing out your opponent and she wants to let Harry know it won’t work on her.

He mulls her over for a second, then his mouth curves into a lopsided grin, dimples winking awake. “Last round, same rules.”

He holds out his bo staff before him for indication, both hands spaced evenly across the expanse. He taps the very center with his right thumb. “See that fine little line?”

Y/N studies the crevice he’s signifying. “Yeah?”

In one swift, harsh motion, Harry slams the combat stick down against his knee and Y/N can’t help but jump at the abruptness. The pole snaps cleanly in two, her boyfriend holding up either pieces and shaking them lightly in the air. He goes about his explanation without a hitch. “You can split it into two.”

Y/N looks down at her own tool, running her thumbs down its waxy wooden surface until she feels the crease he’s referring to. “Got it.”

Harry reconnects the two halves, spinning the entire five foot staff over his hand, around his wrist, and finally into default combat position. It rests parallel against his hip, the top half diagonal to his stomach, both of his hands gripping it tightly. He bends down a few inches, feet planted expertly to distribute his weight evenly as he shrugs his brows knowingly. “You better start thinking of a good song to strip to.”

Y/N assumes her own fighting stance, copying his but with her pole on the opposite side, its mass strangely comforting against the curve of her waist. “And you better get ready to clean Hemmy’s litter box for the next month.”

The final round lasts longer than the first two and both combatants have multiple close calls, but one eventually comes up victor. Harry was the first to initiate this time.

He had pounced, reeling his bo staff back and bringing it down towards Y/N at full velocity. The crack of the two sticks colliding scatters loudly along the walls of the apartment.

Y/N isn’t a fan of staff technique fighting. She favors hand-to-hand, simply because there’s a stronger confidence in having direct skin contact with one’s combatant, as well as having the fighting constricted to close quarters. Closer engagement ensures that there will be no surprise attacks from anywhere, where as with the poles, the length of the weapon can’t be focused on all at once. She could be hit on the shoulder one second and have her feet taken out not even an inhale later. It requires quicker, keen impulses and rigid, acute blows. The combinations of attacks are endless and unpredictable until a heartbeat before they happen, and it demands a defense that is also an offense, so there is no time at all to pause and recoup. Not to mention the fact that the material of the staffs is cruelly solid, so impact packs five times the pain of a regular fist.

It’s because of all of this— because of all of the limiting factors she’d encountered with this style of sport— that she had willed herself to become so good at it. It was what she practiced most whenever she sparred back home; she refuses to allow herself to be weak when it comes to protecting everything she’s ever known. Hatred is a valid catalyst for exceeding, and as much as she hates these stupid sticks, exceeding ranks higher in her priorities and it’s paid off in the long-run.

On the other end of the spectrum is Harry. He loves bo staff combat. Thrives in it. It was the form of battle that he picked up the quickest during his training and he favors it over everything else (except maybe blades). During his time in Hell, he knew nothing but agonizing anguish for fifty years. Nothing but continuous torture and abuse that seemed to rip his being to shreds, only for it to be sewn back together and demolished all over again. Once he did his time and was released from the punishment wing, he was less than ready to face all of the emotions that had been forcibly shoved to the back of his mind by the animalistic instinct to survive and persevere.

Fighting was the one place he could let it all out simultaneously, both the emotional and physical turmoil, and put to test the resilience he had gained. He excelled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat and breezed by knife-throwing as if he’d done it all his life, but bo staff warfare provided the challenge of soliciting coarse, brutal techniques with fine-tuned precision, grating accuracy, and accelerated speed responses. It was the perfect cocktail of exertion he needed to work through most of the shit he had been through, all while gaining him a name within the new community he was destined to join. He never personally saw it occur (or maybe he just doesn’t recall it considering specific instances from that time tend to blur together), but people tell him word got around enough that Lucifer himself came to watch one of his matches.

All in all, the array of details is a way of emphasizing that this round was meant to be his even before it started. However, his confidence begins to shake as they escalate further into the fighting.

Y/N is good— incredible, actually. Her technique, her timing, her strength and agility, the way she flows through her movements in such a graceful yet cut-throat manner. It all shows she’s had extensive experience in this field and she’s not holding back on showing it off. Every one of his attacks is met with a perfect counter and every one of his defenses is met with an assault of the same caliber. She looks amazing holding her own, brows cinched in extreme concentration and muscles taut as inhuman strength courses through them like a current. Her footwork is excellent, supporting her every motion with flawless balance, delivering strike after strike without a moment of hesitation.

Harry has never met anyone he could confidently say leveled him in skill, and as cheesy and sappy and idiotic as it sounds, he thinks he’s finally found his match. If he wasn’t in love before, he’s mostly definitely neck-deep in it now.

He’s lucky he’s practiced enough to multitask or else his dwellings would’ve gotten him knocked on his ass by now. His body had gone into a type of automated combat mode that relied purely on pattern experience and muscle memory, his mind focused partially on the sparring and partially on his thoughts. Harry manages to fully zone back into reality just in time to block an advance at his jaw. The obsidian glass of his pole clacks forcefully against the smoothed red oak of Y/N’s, mere centimeters from his face.

He goes cross-eyed to look at the staff and then looks past it to the assailant wielding it. “Did you really have to go for the face?”

Y/N doesn’t respond, yanking her staff back and swinging it downwards towards his ankles, which he intercepts in a blur of glittering jewels. He twists her combat stick around his, attempting to force her into releasing it. She does, letting it fall from her left hand into her right, pulling it out from its cage and spinning her entire body, packing the motion with as much momentum as possible and aiming it for the middle of Harry’s torso. He just barely meets her blow, saving himself from getting the other side of his ribcage broken. Y/N pivots on her heel again, this time aiming for the junction between his neck and shoulder. It’s a sensitive point and should cripple him enough to get him down.

Harry ducks, slamming the top half of his bo staff against his girlfriend’s stomach, hearing her exclaim on impact. He isn’t even able to celebrate finally getting in a hit because the next thing he knows, a searing ache ruptures across the top of his skull. His vision blurs into a dark red, the edges of his sight vignetting between purple and black. He drops to his hand and knees, ears ringing and teeth going numb.

The room is spinning and he feels like he might throw up, but he’s stubborn. He rolls sideways on the mat, stopping on his stomach and clumsily hobbling up onto his feet. He blindly extends his staff before him as a defense mechanism, blinking rapidly in an attempt to dissolve the red from his surroundings. He’s faced worse, and frankly, he deserves it after the way he crippled her in the first round.

Through the hazy curtain washing over his mind, he’s able to focus in on Y/N, who is edging towards him carefully with her pole poised. He works his injury to his angle, pretending to be worse off than he actually is by shaking his head as if trying to regain his bearings. When Y/N is within jumping distance, he launches, taking her by surprise and smacking along the lower half of her sternum. She staggers back, using her pole to keep from tripping, leaving her unprotected. His combat stick finds its way into the left side of her waist, causing her to bend over at the force. Harry steps past her, looking over his shoulder and getting an idea.

The weapon comes down flat, swatting Y/N right across her backside.

She yelps out in angered alarm, hands flying to her throbbing bum as she jumps forward a couple of feet, whizzing around with indignation pinching her face. Harry’s eyes flit black as he sticks his tongue out in an open-mouthed smirk, wagging his head tauntingly.

An infuriated snarl rumbles in the back of Y/N’s throat, her limbs acting out of their own accord. She unclasps the two halves of her combat stick over her knee as Harry had before, the ring of color that hugs her irises illuminating itself with a blinding celeste hue.

He just can’t keep the stereotypical asshole comment to himself, uttering it through a provoking simper. “You look hot when you’re mad.”

When her next swing comes down, it easily packs the strength of a hundred men.

Y/N advances on Harry with no remorse, her hits strong and curt, clean-cut and precise. She’s getting in consistent blows now that she has more ammunition, bruising his left shoulder and swelling his right thigh. Her two halves come down at him at once, concentrated toward his chest, and he intercepts with the center of his pole. The brunt of the clash fulfills the purpose Harry had intended, snapping his single staff into its secondary form.

He twirls each twin piece over the back of his hand, feeling them settle into his cupped fingers snugly. “That’s more like it.”

They go back and forth for what Harry dubs to be about a minute or two, the sharp clacking of the surfaces biting into the sweat-tinged air. He’s thankful bruises heal almost immediately after inflected or else he’d be purple and blue from head to toe. He’s growing bored and achey of the round, well aware of the fact that since Y/N equals him in skill, the match could go on for hours and he has to work in less than three.

Not to mention, he hasn’t even had breakfast yet and he can practically hear an omelette calling his name. Maybe with some French toast and homemade lemonade...Fuck, that’d be perfect.

He still has to take Onyx and Nimbus out for a their daily morning lap around the park nearby. He has to get there early lest he run into that fitness coach with the annoying Doberman that has some weird grudge against his dogs. And now that he recalls, he owes Dylan a coffee for that bet he’d lost over one of his trainees losing a match to another. That’d take at least ten minutes considering how busy Starbucks is in the morning, and that doesn’t include how long it takes them to make the drink due to Dylan’s peculiar (and annoyingly moronic) tastes.

Harry’s daydreaming is what teeters the fight into its end. His lack of focus leads him into making a mistake that is theatrically ironic.

After deflecting a hit to his jugular, he groups both ends of his pole above his head, bringing them down towards his girlfriend without any real target other than to just plant a hit somewhere. He knew she would block it and he figured he’d use that millisecond window to slam her backward, hopefully with enough give to render her onto her rear.

However, that is not how it goes down at all.

Instead of hindering the collision with the flat side of both her rungs, Y/N crosses her forearms diagonally before her, both of Harry’s wrists ending up wedged between them. It’s the same exact move he’d used on her to win the first round.

Y/N quirks her eyebrows up at her opponent mockingly, voice thick with sarcastically satisfied amusement. “Oops.”

She swiftly rotates her arms clockwise, Harry’s trapped wrists following suit and twisting his arms roughly sideways. This gives Y/N the perfect way in, using the butt of one of her rods and striking it across his cheekbone. Harry staggers back, flailing his weapons loosely as he tries to keep from collapsing. Y/N dives forward, her staffs connecting with the back of Harry’s hands, forcing him to release his tools out of nerve-induced impulse.

After she’s disarmed him, she directs a flat-footed kick to his abdomen, right between his ferns tattoos. The strength behind the gesture sends a vibration up the knobs of her bones, so she can only imagine how it must’ve felt to him. Harry’s feet leave the ground unintentionally for the first time during the entire match as he flies back, the nearest wall so kindly cushioning his fall. He slides down the surface, the matte paint burning the skin of his elbows until his body settles onto the mat. He immediately attempts to regain his footing, but is stopped short on his knees.

The end of a combat stick hovers a few inches in front of his nose, a sweaty, heavy-breathed Y/N looming down upon him from behind it, eyes gleaming— literally— with cocksure victory. “Stay down unless you want a matching bruise on the other side of your face.”

Harry’s chest shallowly heaves a count of three, then his eyes string upwards from the circular flat face of the bo staff to lock with his girlfriend’s. He teeths the corner of his bottom lip as it jolts with the ghost of an aroused, awed simper. “I quite enjoy being on my knees, anyways.”

Y/N’s pole rattles against the ground.

She keens over, palms resting on her knees as she gulps down air like she can’t get enough of it. Harry sits back on his heels, back flushed with the wall to support himself, head thunking against it hollowly. He hasn’t felt this exhausted since his first ever training session all those centuries back.

Sweat mazes its way down his throbbing temples and across the veins chiseled into his neck, following the curve of his collarbones and tickling its way down the valley of his chest. All he can get out is a low, scratchy, “Fucking hell...” and his throat goes sore with the effort.

Y/N throws her head back in fatigue, groaning softly as every muscle in her body complains at the motion. A weak, giddy smile dances its way across her warm cheeks. “I won.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, wincing lightly as the movement irritates the fracture he knows is running the length of his cheekbone. “Give credit where it’s due. That final move was mine, so you’re welcome.”

He sticks out his hand as a post-fight symbol of good will, wiggling his fingers when she stares at it cautiously. “C’mon, I won’t bite. No dirty play, remember?”

Y/N takes Harry’s hand and the conjoined pair shake out a final truce. She then rests down onto her knees, crawling across the mat to take the spot beside him. As her back nests again the wall, she feels a mixture of both relief and disgust. Relief because the surface is nice and cool, which works wonders for her overheating body. Disgust because the wall flattens her t-shirt against her skin and she can feel the cotton soaking up all the sweat as it sticks to her like glue.

She lulls her head over to Harry, who is dabbing at the big green and purple shiner that she’d slashed across his face. Now that the fight is over and her brain has gradually waned off of the cruel adrenalin that had been fueling her strength, guilt starts settling in. “Sorry about that.”

Harry cranes his neck in her direction, gifting her a tender smile that she knows probably hurts. “S’okay, it’s already healing. Plus, I had a good time. Was fun.”

Y/N playfully bumps his shoulder with her own. “Not as fun as it’s gonna be to watch you clean up cat feces for the next month.”

“Still can’t believe that’s what you chose.” Harry mumbles, reaching up and releasing his damp curls from the tiny ponytail atop his head, slipping the hair-tie over his wrist and shaking out his stringy locks.

Y/N rolls her eyes dismissively. “I’m sorry I’m not constantly thinking about filth like you do. Some of us have control.”

One of Harry’s eyebrows jumps up challengingly. “Oh? You have control, y’say?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then, I guess you won’t mind.”

He proceeds to grab the back of his drenched muscle tank, yanking it over his head and balling it up into a crumpled mess, using it wipe down his face.

Y/N shrugs without worry. “Go ahead. I’ve seen you without your shirt plenty of times.”

“Yeah, you have. But...” His hands trails along the ground in the space that lays between them, his index finger tracing along her left outer thigh. “It’s different when I’m covered in sweat, muscles all tight right after a workout.”

Y/N hesitantly glances over at Harry, taking in the way his strong, thick chest is rising and falling rhythmically, glistening with a sheen of water that makes his lightly tanned skin look like gold porcelain. The ink stains ripples as his tendons contract and release, biceps flexing temptingly.

Y/N swallows down the dryness in her throat, running the back of her wrist along the pearls of sweat itching her brows. “Makes no difference to me.”

Harry looks down upon her from over his shoulder, eyes flickering black for a second, her reflection painted across the glass-like surface of the dark hue. “Then why are you ogling?”

She scoffs incredulously, but can’t stop herself from looking away in embarrassment. Her voice is a begrudging grumble. “I wasn’t ogling.”

“Right. You were just staring profusely. My mistake.”

“Dickhead.”

Harry’s tongue glosses over his front teeth, pressing against the inside of his cheek, his expression one of pompous entertainment at being able to get her so flustered. He scoots a bit closer to her until their legs are touching, leaning forward to try and catch her attention. “For what it’s worth, I was doing my fair share of ogling, too.”

The comment is enough to fish her consideration.

Y/N’s vision flits to him, full of confused curiosity. “When? I’ve been fully dressed the whole time?”

Harry sways his head at her incorrect assumption, hand sneaking its way fully onto her leg. “It has nothing to do with nudity, though I won’t object if you decide to go that route.”

She ignores his suggestion. “Then what is it?”

The pads of his digits dig into the suppleness of her thigh, squeezing once testingly, tingling with glee when she doesn’t swat him away. “When you we were fighting just now. Your skills are incredible.”

Y/N blinks at him blankly. “What part of me looking sweaty and busted was attractive to you?”

Harry’s forefinger maps his name over her clothed skin, the cursive big and loopy, gentle and feathery. “The part where you showed such confident ease and deadly perfection.”

He halts the tip of his finger halfway through his last name, right at the curve of the Y. His tone carries a reflective hazy fondness. “It was so fucking beautiful.”

Y/N is intrigued in the way Harry can conjure something so outlandish as charming, but she can understand why he’d enjoy it. Demons have a warped sense of beauty. She finds herself pushing for more details, her interest wandering. “What was beautiful about it?”

His clouded jade irises meet her’s, appearing soft and admiring. “Everything. The way you moved with elegant delicacy, but somehow still made every hit dangerous. You hold your own really well, and that’s meaningful coming from me. Gotta love a girl who can beat your ass.”

Y/N laughs airily. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Harry absentmindedly reaches up, cupping her chin between his thumb and index finger, rubbing over the faint dimple endearingly. The way he’s staring at her lips hungrily makes them buzz. “Fuck, I wish you could’ve seen yourself. It was so hot.”

She swallows thickly, her eyes glimpsing anxiously between his mouth and eyes, voice full of innocent wonder. “It was?”

Harry’s gaze flirts over the dip of the crescent along her upper lip, both of his own parting open smidge at the way the light hits its peaks alluringly. “Yeah, it was. Wanted to just drop to my knees right then and have you ride my face.”

Y/N’s breathing catches in her throat, thighs clenching unintentionally.

His Cupid’s bow feathers over her’s, their foreheads knocking softly. The mood has shifted drastically, the air seeming to solidify inside her lungs as Harry’s low, melodic thrum of a voice paints itself with needy awe. “Wanted to just spread you out on this mat with my face between your thighs and your hands tangled in my hair. To feel you drip down my chin and wet the tops of my cheeks.”

“Harry...”

The word comes out as a desperate croak, begging him for something, though he’s not sure what. It can either be for him to stop, or for him to explicitly keep going. “Are you sure you don’t want to tie anything else into that prize?”

Y/N sighs shakily through her nose, eyelids drooping shut at the tension weighing in the atmosphere of the room. “Don’t tempt me.”

The snicker Harry releases is the ideal ratio of boyish giggle and arrogant chuckle. “M’afraid I have to. It’s kinda my profession and all.”

She wants to say no— wants to uphold the statement she had made about being modest enough not to include raunchiness into everything they do. Wants keep herself from giving in when she was always taught to fight off mindless desires.

She tries to search for anything to put a halt to her deteriorating control. “Don’t you have a ton of stuff to do before you leave for work? Like breakfast and handling the dogs?”

The breath of his words is warm and gooey as it rolls over the fizzling skin of her lips. “I can grab something on the way, and Onyx and Nimbus can walk themselves. I just go to keep up appearances.”

“In that case, it’s probably not a good idea to let them walk themselves, is it?”

Harry grabs Y/N by the collar of her borrowed tee, the sweaty fabric crinkling as he tugs her into a deep, wet kiss that is made up of desperate little whines and breathy whimpers. He murmurs into her mouth, his two front teeth claiming the center of her bottom lip. “You go with them later, then. Problem solved.”

She tries to pull back (despite every fiber of her being telling her not to), fabricating any excuse that comes to mind. “They hate me.”

He yanks her back in, noses bumping as his tongue works to convince her. “No they don’t.”

Her strong will proceeds despite the prickling creeping down her neck and across her temples. “Yes they do.”

“Well, I don’t hate you and at the end of the day, isn’t that what matters?”

“That has absolutely nothing to do with—”

Y/N’s counter is cut short by Harry using his hold to swiftly jerk her into his lap, maneuvering her accordingly, her heels pressing into the sides of his calves as she straddles his thighs. He slides her forward until the close proximity forces her to balance onto her knees at either sides of his hips, his face level with her navel. His head rests back against the wall, eyes drunk on the way she’s perched above him, looking down over her burning cheeks. He wastes no time in putting their position into to good use, fingers perching at her waist and beginning to fiddle with the zipper of the compression shorts he’d lent her.

“What about—”

“Why don’t you be a good girl and stay quiet.” He murmurs lowky, dragging the zipper all the way down and working on easing the nylon material down her sticky thighs, placing a slow, drawn-out peck to the swell of each hip. In all his decades of life, he’s well learned that it’s the subtle touches that work the biggest wonders.

“But—”

His lips smooth over her twitching tummy, biting it teasingly while his mouth moves over her heated skin as he forms his words, voice heavy and deep. “I said quiet, didn’t I?”

Her panties are at full access now, the hem of the sports leggings resting right below the curve of her bum, and Harry can’t stop himself from smirking coyly at her choice of daisy and sunflower print. He stretches his neck, sticking out his tongue and giving a long lap at her over the underwear, the edges of his mouth carving upwards as he feels a hot flush of sudden dampness pool at the area over her clit. He glances up at her from beneath his long lashes, eyes electric with self-assured delight as he hums appreciatively in the back of his throat.

Y/N’s fingers find their way into his tousled curls, holding his head between her thighs as she digs into his scalp, her sentences lodging in her throat. “We can’t— we shouldn’t. Y-You’ll be late for work and—”

Harry gives her another drawn out lick over the garment, flirting the tip of his tongue over the swollen little bud that lies at the thick of her crotch, savoring the way she shudders and writhes. His hands have migrated to grip her ass, keeping her in place as his face moves from side to side, tongue sloppily toying with her cunt and causing her to utterly ruin her favorite pair of undies.

“H-Harry, please. You’ll get in trouble—”

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up and let me make you cum.”

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 5 years ago

Text

Trinkets, 30: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A waterproof scrollcase containing a key and a sheaf of official documents. According to the paperwork, the key opens a bankbox in a prestigious bank in a large city far away, and the lease on it has been paid for the next 100 years.

A beautifully painted set of castanets made out of sturdy oyster shells.

A full mask of rippled black glass with thin slanted slits for the bearer’s eyes. All who look upon it see distorted reflections of their own faults and failings, the slightest doubt twisted into a horrific swarm of phantoms that claw at the psyche of the victim. The bearer is never affected by the mask’s powers but longtime users may find their sense of compassion and empathy withering away the longer they stare out of the dark veil’s slanted eye slits.

An aged papyrus scroll bearing the image of an open sarcophagus, its lid propped up against the side. In its contents are gemstones, jewelry, and even precious coin lain in among the rotting silks of long dead corpse. Wafts of green and brown can be seen emanating from the molded cloths, and around the open container the carcasses of sweltering animals and humans remain motionless as the plague eats away at the flesh.

A well crafted, black cloth banner featuring a stylized skull breathing flames. A Knowledgeable PC will recognize the object serves as a rallying point for the free company of mercenaries known as the Black Company, who are highly respect and feared by allies and foes alike.

A three-lobed spinning device with almost frictionless ball bearings in the center. There are holes in the lobes and the center has a raised disk on both sides so the device can be held while it is spinning.

A one gallon cask of Norscan Mead. Made from fermented honey, the beverage is also known as Sweet Brew and is too sugary to drink in great quantities, though a few fools do and regret it. Though it has a rich amber colour and a delicious taste, Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that occasional batches contain a few contaminants that elicit strange visions and unsettling emotional outbursts. People usually risk the unusual side effects for a sample of this expensive beverage.

A pulsing, mossy stone of unknown origin that glows with the light of life.

An ivory statuette of a mermaid that is for the most part crudely carved, with the exception of certain 'features' which have been carved with lavish detail.

A fine clay pipe, the bowl formed into the shape of a bearded man with a scarred face. The face is so detailed, that the bearer can even make out the arrow shaped earring, which Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize as the mark of a well-known pirate gang.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A beautifully painted set of castanets made out of sturdy oyster shells.

A pulsing, mossy stone of unknown origin that glows with the light of life.

An ivory statuette of a mermaid that is for the most part crudely carved, with the exception of certain 'features' which have been carved with lavish detail.

Shivered Timber: A large shard of wood from a pirate ship's mast that is constantly tipped with frost. The implement can be used a focus for casting spells that deal cold damage.

A delicate china tea set painted in motifs of faraway lands. It's well wrapped in padded cloth and comes with its own matching box.

A strange sextant crafted from tarnished brass, badly tanned leather, crudely shaped driftwood and milky glass, it's a tool only a seasoned mariner could appreciate, much less love. And yet, over the years various sailors have added their own touches such as a bundle of pigeon feathers tied with sinew to a thumbscrew, a rough etching of a stylized Kraken and an extra mirror. Regardless of its dubious decorations, the object works perfectly well as a navigational tool.

A gruesome war banner sewn from strings of congealed gore, the flag radiates bloodlust so strong that those beneath it are filled with rage.

A brightly polished tin candle holder covered in silver snowflake decorations.

A metal wargong, made from a shield that has seen more than its fair share of battle.

A glass jar containing orange and red fruit preserves. A rough and jolly swashbuckler is imprinted on the lid. Along the side is written " Jelly Roger's Marmalade: To prevent scurvy on the high seas!"

A small pane of stained glass depicting a fire.

A mask of terrifying craftsmanship, depicting in obsidian and void-fired bronze the agonized visage of a tortured angel. The facial covering constantly weeps tears of blood that evaporate without trace moments after falling from the mask

A metal torc that looks rather severe, with several upward-facing spikes. The words “Watchmen’s Friend” is etched on the inside of the band. It would be very difficult to nod off when wearing such a serious piece of neckwear as the bearer would likely prick themselves on the spikes.

A large whale's tooth that is finely carved, appearing to depict a young woman drowning at sea. Beneath is the name “Celia” and a few badly worn sentences that might explain her fate, but the words are very hard to read.

A delicate chain of hand folded paper dolls, each delicately painted.

A basket of blood fruit, a product of nature magic tainted by chaos and evil. The fruits resemble wan, black, malformed apples and are tautly filled with a mixture of blood and oily, dark ichors. Eating a blood fruit wracks the body with terrible stomach spasms and horrendous digestive issues.

A worn, brass key nearly a handspan wide and decorated with thorny vines.

A scarlet gem that shimmers in the bearer's hand like the pale cinders of cooling hearth. The bearer can feel its brittle heat wash over them, seething through their veins like serpents of liquid steel.

A dangling upside down rune etched in blood on strange leather parchment.

A perfectly preserved tarantula, encased in a glass hemisphere.

A simple wind instrument cut from a reed, commonly known as a whistlecane. They are so easy to make, that skilled bards frequently make and give them away to children-to the parents' delight or regret.

A lock of white hair trapped in amber.

A small painting depicting an ugly and extremely overweight troll with a giant club resting on its shoulder, sitting on one side of a cobblestone bridge while a party of adventurers in armor waits on the other side in preparation, their armor gleaming in the sunlight and their spear heads glinting in bloodlust.

A druid’s staff of giant fennel covered with ivy vines, assorted leaves and topped with a pinecone.

A pan flute fashioned from hollowed out oak twigs.

A single lens, hand magnifier with a wooden handle, on the grip is inscribed "For those who seek" in golden lettering.

A painted face mask of a jester with a rictus blood-red smile.

A stone tablet that bears inscriptions detailing a notable being who fell just short of achieving godhood.

A simple necromancer’s staff with an ornate head as dark as onyx and decorated with arcane symbols designed to prey on the subconscious fears of mortals.

A pair of goggles with light orange, round, translucent lenses that are mounted within a flexible metal frame that has a soft leather strap with a clasp at the back.

A beaten leather bag containing various pliers, knives, hooks, shears and mind-weakening drugs strapped to its interior. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize the symbol of an order of demon hunters sewn into the inner lining, and deduce that these were one of their member's interrogation tools. Kits such as these were incredibly useful for convincing cultists and evildoers of all kinds to divulge their nefarious plots, as the interrogation tools appear intentionally gruesome. More often than not, the very presence of the cruel looking instruments is enough to induce a prisoner to talk. Unfortunately, these tools also inspire some very convincing lies. The use of these tools (Even by virtue of having the victim see them or describing how they will be used and how immensely painful they will be) grants the bearer advantage on intimidate checks made while questioning prisoners, but they impose disadvantage on all sense motive or insight checks made to determine whether the information gleaned is accurate or not.

A fully functioning xylophone made out of Giant's toe nails.

A leather doctor’s bag contains all the accouterments a phrenologist needs to measure skulls. The kit contains several metal skull calipers of various sizes, a labeled chalkware bust of a humanoid head, and numbered charts of skulls of various species.

A black leather half-mask that covers the bearer’s nose and mouth and muffles their breathing.

A head sized array of complicated clockwork mechanisms that throb slightly as pulsing with an organic heartbeat.

A metal lantern of dwarven make that hangs from a short length of chain.

A black silk choker, with a square orange stone set in its center.

An old glass bottle with a glass stopper sealed with wax. It contains a cloudy white liquid with ribbons of black and grey suspended in it.

A firmly locked, steel chest, marked on the lid in multiple languages that this chest is ordered sealed by order of (Insert setting appropriate authority figure here), opening the chest is a crime, and that punishment for said crime is dismemberment and / or death. If opened, the container is found to be empty with the exception of a hastily scribbled note that reads “I.O.U. one Mcguffin”.

An obsidian jewelry box with a black rose embroidered on it. The box is all sharp edges, oppressively heavy and has a jagged uneven surface.

A delicate iron rod with an intricate pattern of constellations all over its surface and a moth-shaped handle in the middle. One end is marked by an eight-pointed star, while the other one displays a waning moon.

A pearlescent marble scepter topped by a blue gemstone cut in the shape of an eight-pointed star.

A porcelain mask depicting a slightly disgusted visage of an oligarch.

A dreamcatcher, made from elk antlers and a silvery thread, adorned with an arrangement of dark and brightly colored feathers. The shape defined by its threads seem to change from time to time, but the resulting patterns are hardly discernible.

A one gallon cask of Bretonnian brandy, known for being beloved by low and highborn alike. Perhaps the oldest liquor made by humans, it is made from fermented grape wine. Its distinctive taste and warming effect when consumed make it an excellent tonic for road-weary travelers.

A woodcut relief depicting a woman in a rocking chair, knitting scarves and sweaters for her many grandchildren around. A warm hearth’s fire lights the room in a golden glow, giving tone to each feature of each of the children’s smiling faces. Only something thing is off about the picture. The woman eyes are sunken in holes of what might have once been eyes, her mouth a dried picture of a smile stuck into place like the muscles seized up in a corpse, her hands covered in lumpy growths which accent her impossibly knobby fingers. And weirdly, where there might be disgust or horror, the viewer only feels sympathy like one sufferer feels towards another sufferer.

A fully functioning clarinet carved from driftwood. The holy symbol of a minor lake deity is branded into the side

An intricate wooden box with delicate gold filigree and a wind up key on the back. If it is opened after having been wound-up a beautiful melody plays out.

A slit drum made from a hollowed, fire hardened, hardwood log. The instrument has two slits on its topside, cut into the shape of an "H". The resultant strips or tongues are then struck with a pair of mallets fashioned from deer antlers which are stored with the hollowed frame. Since the tongues are of different lengths and carved into different thicknesses, the drum produces two different pitches, near a fourth apart. The exterior is decorated with relief carvings of various deities and abstract monstrous designs. Some of these creatures are open-mouthed, providing increased volume through the hole at the end. The drum is one foot long and can be easily carried and played straps about the shoulders.

A small and rather ordinary-looking flute carved from a piece of gray driftwood that plays beautiful, clear music.

A black velvet mask in the shape of a spider with four jointed wire legs protruding from each side of it. It covers the wearer's face completely but does not hinder vision or speech.

A small sack of shark leather that contains a handful of piranha teeth.

A compact ball of tightly wrapped steel wires that fits in one hand.

A long, segmented conical trumpet, made of a lightweight metal that collapses into three sections for easier transportation.

A set of soldier’s studded red leather greaves that come up over the knees and cling tightly to the calf. There are no visible closures or bindings on the armor. The red leather is artfully burned with the pattern of twining vines. To remove the armor, a command word must be whispered which awakens the vines and relaxes them, allowing the greaves to slip off easily and quickly. To don them, the same verbal command must be uttered causing the vines tighten and recess into the leather once again.

A porcelain mask bearing cracks across it. The bottom right of the face from the jawline to the cheekbone to the chin is broken off. A viewer can just make out the expression of terror carved into the remaining features of the mask.

A red potion flask fashioned in the shape of a bull filled with an amber liquid. If consumed, the drinker’s face turns red and he becomes unable to sleep or rest properly for 1d20 hours. This does no eliminate the drinker’s need for rest, it simply blocks their ability to do so.

A forest elf’s rucksack that is simply the treated husk of a giant seedpod, fitted with leather strap hinges and closed with buckled leather straps. The long, organic vessel is hard-sided and durable, with naturally formed compartments inside.

An eerie mask carved from bone to resemble the gaunt face of a terrifying vampire whose expression is that of inhuman malice.

A shining baldric that seems to be woven from threads of steel, a skill only the finest of elven smiths have accomplished. Its peculiarly angled hanger is designed to carry an elven longsword.

A tarnished bronze coin about the size of a palm. Mossy and damaged, this ancient coin is barely perceptible as valuable.

A thick canvas messenger bag with the image of an anvil on one side, surrounded by four arms, each wielding a different tool.

A worn playing card depicting an unsightly old woman with knobbled fingers peering over her shoulder towards the viewer, smiling with unholy glee, her jagged and misplaced teeth creating a haunting smile. When the bearer blinks, the figure is replaced with the viewer, looking fearful and bewildered.

A silver dragon scale that glows in the moonlight.

A silver coin which has been hollowed out and a tiny encrypted message placed inside.

A curious frogmouth purse filled with many unusually shaped dice. A few small figurines of various people and creatures and worthless coins are also in the bag.

A five inch gnome statuette that appears as if it is on the verge of speaking when it is almost out of view.

A board covered with runes and a silver weight tied to a string. Holding the weight over the board causes it to slowly spell the answer to any question asked. The response is never correct (Except by coincidence) and is always just the answer the person asking most wants to hear.

A cube, with each side having nine squares with an eldritch symbol inscribed within the rich oak finish. The bearer can slide the cube around to shift the location of each face to match others. Some of them seem to glow when matched together, but so faint that it must be a trick of the light or the bearer’s imagination.

A four high wireframe model of a humanoid figure, made out of tin. The figure has an exquisitely detailed copper heart inside the dull ribcage.

A mask of bandage wrapping that has some strands loosely hanging off and others stained with dried blood. The filthy object has a slight smell of flesh putrefaction.

A feather quill. Anything written with this quill will appear in a distinct and unknown handwriting. This unknown handwriting remains the same, regardless of who is writing with the quill.

A small pouch of glass marbles. Each marble has the abstract shape of a different animal embedded in the center of the glass.

A large decorative candle. When lit, it gives off an alluring scent which, while impossible to identify, evokes a feeling of nostalgia in anyone who smells it.

A small garden trowel. The blade and handle are made of common, if not poor-quality materials, but the handle is set with a single semiprecious stone.

A nail molded into the shape of a sword with pommel in the shape of a wolf’s head.

A tiny wooden horse with white hair for a mane and tail, and silver beads for eyes.

A ceremonial dagger with an eye engraved on the hilt. Whenever the dagger is at the very edge of one’s vision, they can swear it just blinked.

A coin pouch. It sounds, weighs, looks and feels like it’s filled with coins, but upon opening it the bearer discovers that it is empty.

A tarnished brass kazoo in the shape of a fish.

A thick hemp rope that ties itself into a hangman’s knot whenever it's left unsupervised.

A pair of dice that seem to only roll 7s when in close proximity to gold or platinum.

A hardy, darkened conch shell with an almost dangerous amount of ridges and points. By holding the shell up to their ear, the holder can hear rushing water and violent waves with an unusual degree of clarity. Continuing to listen the shell causes the bearer to slowly begin to experience sensations of seasickness and a pressure similar to being too deep underwater. As the sensations intensify, a muted, indecipherable whispering can be heard very faintly, as if it were coming from the bottom of the sea. The whispering continues to grow louder while the sensations escalate, until the whispers can almost be made out, at which point the bearer blacks out for a few seconds, dropping the shell.

A tiny bronze idol of a goblin carrying a knife in both hands and one knife clutched in his teeth.

A simple Randomly Coloured headband with a clear crystal set in the center of the brow.

A rather large iron pot covered in scratches and scorch marks that can’t seem to be taken off. Meals prepared by this pot are always palatable but in need of salt, regardless of whether the recipe called for salt, the consumer’s enjoyment of salt, or amount of salt that was used in the cooking. Coincidentally, this effect can be nullified by adding copious amounts of pepper to the pot before serving the meal, in which case the food is always surprisingly delicious.

A small, well-crafted statuette depicting a hulking metal, box-like figure of a humanoid sitting on a rock in the midst of a creek, holding in its hand a small magenta flower, examining it closely with its eye-less, mouth-less, nose-less, featureless face. The flower is richly colored which starkly contrasts the grey golem. A creature who examines the statue for more than a few seconds feels themselves growing cold and numb and only seeing in shades of grey as if their senses were fading away. The creature’s faculties return to them the moment they stop interacting with the object.

A brutal mask resembling a growling devil’s face shaped from a single piece of a dark grey metal, save that the eyes and mouth are covered by bars like a prison cell.

An ornate glasswork sculpture of a phoenix in all its resplendent glory, its wings spread majestically over the ember glow of an active volcano. The whole piece has been magically enchanted and the illusionary flames around the bird are animated and dance and drift off of the creature’s feathers and the volcano occasionally erupts in showers of harmless sparks. The glass is warm to the touch and is as durable as steel.

A single piece of parchment on which is inscribed a long list of potion ingredients, their properties, and price in a currency that doesn't exist anymore.

A small figurine of root and stone in the shape of a large earth elemental.

A minotaur’s horn carved with all the names of their clan going back generations.

A charcoal drawing displaying the scene of a mangy beast with a bovine skull looming over the corpse of a human woman. His thin body and exposed organs give the impression of hunger, a kind of starvation that consumes body and soul. The background is heavy shrouded in mist and two streams of vapor jet downward from his snout, blending into the air as if creating the blanketing fog. At the top of the image the picture is titled “Wendigo” and in the bottom right where the artist should have placed a signature simply has the hastily scrawled word “RUN”.

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furniture11 · 3 years ago

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New designs dining table top styles

Dining table tops are pivotal to adding character to your dining area and to your entire home. Besides serving dinner, it's much more than that. A gathering of people gathers around it, shares ideas, and creates moments that become engraved in the memory for a lifetime. Dining spaces are places where upscale meals are served and fine dining occurs. For the guests who are there, the ambiance, the menu, and the tabletop make it an experience.

Tops adorn dinner tables, and in general, these tops define the design of the table. The shape, material, texture, and so on, can uplift the appearance of any dining table. We discuss the overabundance of dining table tops on the market and what are the key trends that can make or break a dining décor.

Here are some dining table top styles:

Dining tables with marble tops infuse your dining area with a sense of luxury and grandeur. Marble is synonymous with classic opulence and luxury. It is exquisite and gives your home a timeless feel. Regardless of the size of your dining area, the 6 seater marble top dining table is ideal. Despite its functionality, it is attractive. Aside from its aesthetic value, it is also easy to maintain. Visit Cherry Pick India to see the latest dining tables with marble tops - ten-seater, eight-seater, six-seater, and more

A glass dining table top can keep the dining area looking light and airy. Glass tabletops can be easily drilled into the desired shape. Various shapes and sizes can be cut from them. However, scratches and abrasions can occur on these dining table tops, so care must be taken.

Wooden dining tabletop: This tabletop has been around for centuries. Different kinds of wood are used for tabletops, such as teak, rosewood, mango wood, and mahogany. It has a rustic charm, yet looks stylish and elegant. In place of this somewhat expensive and rare material, there is wooden or melamine laminate, which provides the same effect, but with greater cost-efficiency and durability. The polish on wood dining table tops ebbs over time with increased wear and tear.

The Agate dining tabletop is a limited edition product. Exquisite craftsmanship is displayed in these table tops, as agate gemstones are shaped and glued together with the utmost care, precision, and mastery. With a top made of agate, your dining area will be enhanced and you are sure to receive many compliments.

Dining table tops made of onyx are the stuff of dreams and the best option for dining tables. Onyx stones have intricate design details and their uniqueness sets them apart from other stones. Dining tables made of onyx have a superior appearance and are generally come in light or pastel colors. The patterns and veins of Onyx table tops are also unique.

If properly maintained, this dining tabletop can offer a long lifespan, even up to 100 years. Another translucent stone is onyx. A simple light around it can give a bright and ethereal feel by illuminating the surface and beyond all the way. It's simple to maintain and can just be cleaned with warm soapy water. Maintaining this top is easy and keeps it looking new for a long time. As an investment, it will certainly pay off over the long run as it clearly adds value to your home and your interiors like nothing else. As one of the most popular products in the dining décor space, Onyx dining table tops are a true champion product.

In Cherrypick, we specialize in top-of-the-line Onyx dining table tops that are sure to make a statement and can easily boost the interior of any home. Cherrypick India is happy to assist you with making sound and informed decisions regarding your home décor and we are a stop shop for all your furniture solutions.

#Newdesigndiningtable #luxuryfurniture #6 seater dining table #dining table #uniquedesign

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bhandarimarblekishangarh · 4 years ago

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THE WORLD THAT SHINE IN GOLD

GOLDEN MARBLE GRANITE FOR HOUSE ALL AROUND THE WORLD THAT SHINE IN GOLD

If you are looking for Classic Elegance in your stone requirements, Bhandari Marble World is here. Our experience and commitment to quality and service will make your project a success. We specialize in customizing Marble, Granite, Sandstone, Quartzite, Onyx, Travertine from all over the world.

We have one of the biggest processing units in Rajasthan and we process all types of Indian as well as Italian Marble, Granite, and Sandstones in any type of finishes. We have gained experience in the marble industry by exporting to all the major countries of the world. Marble is a non-foliated metamorphic rock that forms when limestone is subjected to heat and pressure of metamorphism. Under the conditions of metamorphism, the calcite (CaCO3) in the limestone recrystallizes to form a rock that is a mass of interlocking calcite crystals.

COLLECTION OF GOLDEN MARBLE

Calacatta Gold

Golden Calacatta Marble is a premium quality stone also known as Calacatta Gold Marble. It is an imported marble having the origin Apuan Mountains near Carrara, Italy. Calacatta marble is a distinctive Italian marble of whites and gold. It has a very graceful appearance for the interior of the house. There are endless looks and styles that you can achieve with a Calacatta marble. It is one of the most prestigious stones in the world. Calacatta Gold marble has been used by Architects and Designer for many projects. Calacatta marble is a distinctive Italian marble of whites and gold. It has a very graceful appearance for the interior of the house. It is popular for many constructions as well as decoration applications like flooring, wall cladding, and other decorative purposes.

Golden Portoro

Golden Portoro Marble is basically a dark shade Marble with a brown texture on it. This stone consists of an intense and bright black color. Golden Portoro Marble is the premium quality of Italian Marble. Golden Portoro is a unique material. Due to its characteristic brown pattern on a black background. This marble is one of the most popular Italian stones. Durability and long-term life are its main features. From rich cabernet tones seen in our Golden Calacatta Marble to dramatic gold. Taupes featured in our Calacatta marble, there are endless looks and styles that you can achieve with a Calacatta marble. The whiter the material, the more expensive the slabs. The more “uniform” the veining in the stone, the pricier it gets. Installing Calacatta Marble can end up being one of the best decisions that you ever make for your home.

Black Gold

Black Gold Marble is one of the common Marbles among all black marbles. Iran has many rich quarries in the country. Black Gold Marble quarries are scattered widely throughout the country but the value of this type of marble depends on the black background plus the distribution of the golden and white colors on the stone. Black & Gold marble incorporates black, brown, and gold for statement houses. Ideal for bathrooms, floors, and walls, its intense golden veins set against the night-black result in visual magic. Honed and polished, rich and unique; it’s where natural stone and chic are ultimate companions.

Giallo Siena

Giallo Siena is one of the most beautiful, prestigious, and detailed marbles that is mined in Italy. It’s characterized by a yellow background color that is dark and heterogeneous due to the presence of grains with shades ranging from ivory white to light yellow to reddish yellow ocher and very intense. Sienna Marble can vary in color from pale cream to strong yellow or even a deep orangey-brown. Traditionally it was used almost exclusively for castles and palaces, the Lodges of the Pope, etc. Today Giallo Siena is also used in various other ambiances where the golden color gives a touch of luxury and exclusivity, e. g. in hotel suites and bathrooms, for floor patterns and borders as well as columns and fireplaces.

Golden Spider

Golden Spider Marble is a white base with golden yellow streaks quarried from Greece. This stone is especially good for the Exterior & Interior. This is the finest and superior quality of Imported Marble. Golden Spider is a white marble with gold veins that gives it a bright color. Golden Spider is a white base with golden yellow streaks. It is present in honed, polished sawn cut, rock-faced & tumbled. It can be used in exterior interior walls, applications, countertops, fountains, and other design projects.

Jaisalmer Gold

Jaisalmer Yellow Marble is loved by homeowners and architects for its natural yellow-orange texture. It comes up in stunning shades making it a classy choice for home and office. Jaisalmer Yellow Marble is quarried from mines located in Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, it is the reason it is also called Desert Gold Marble. Jaisalmer stone is very hard, durable, and long-lasting, it remains good in any weather conditions, it is a better choice for flooring, paving and wall cladding, it is Indian sandstone.

Ita Gold

We are one of the renowned Ita Gold Marble Suppliers, Manufacturers, and Exporters in India. Ita Gold Marble is an outstanding golden base marble with brown or dark color veins on it. It gives a touch of wooden furniture. Due to its color and texture, it is a great option for flooring, countertops & tabletops, and furniture. This durable & beautiful Indian Yellow Marble is okay for usage indoors & outdoors in climates with freezing temperatures and for all Commercial & Residential projects especially for Interior & exterior Flooring, Floor & Wall, Backsplashes, Countertops, Fireplaces.

Teak Gold

Teak Sandstone is a smooth light-yellow veined sandstone and is known for its unique veins and campaign. This sandstone is also named Teakwood, Gold Wave, Khatu Teak sandstone and is used almost everywhere! Teakwood sandstone is made up of quartz and some other materials but is available only on the sawn finish. The classic sandstone has a honed surface such that the surface is not slippery. Hence, the popularity of this stone is more for poolside areas. It can also be used in making Wall Cladding and Tabletops, Vanity tops, Flooring, basins, Steps, Risers, and Fountains.

Golden Brown Rainforest

Rain Forest Gold is a golden brown base with dark brown and black veins, spots which show the figure of forest and trees on its exotic marble quarried in India. Rainforest Gold Marble is a stunning gold base marble with a roots-like structure of brown color on it. Rainforest marble in a green, brown, and golden hue is widely used to create kitchen countertops, vanity tops, floors, steps, and risers. rainforest golden marble slabs, tiles, and counters, at a competitive price, from the leading. Rainforest Marble gives classy look to your interior and exterior design space It is a perfect choice for your needs and demands.

COLLECTION OF GRANITE IN GOLDEN COLOR

Our premium granite selection offers over 100 granite colors. We have the perfect granite countertop for your project whether your countertop needs are for your kitchen, bathroom, or another surface. All of our granite countertop slabs are in stock and ready for prompt delivery.

Presenting our golden color granite collection

Savana Gold Granite

This beautiful Brazilian granite is recommended for both residential and commercial properties and can be used indoors as well as outdoors. Create gorgeous granite countertops, kitchen islands, floors, accent walls, backsplashes, and shower surrounds with this earthy and rich natural slab granite.

Alaska Gold Granite

Alaska Gold Granite features the golden variety of Alaska white glamorous stone. Alaska Gold is the unique combination of gold, brown and black color, which defines its perfect appearance. This is one of the most selling premium granite from India. There are various sizes like cutter size slabs, big size slabs, cut to size tiles, etc. We make Raw Blocks, Slabs, Table Tops, Kitchen Tops, Vanity Tops, Steps & Risers, Skirting, Tiles, cut to sizes, etc. are regular in this granite profile.

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mistskywalker97 · 8 years ago

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Beauty In Our Scars (Kylo Ren x Reader)

(A/n: Sorry it took me awhile to write this. But I’m making up by making this as long as possible. Thank you again for your request. Sorry about the errors I’ll edit them later.)

Genre: Smut / Angst

Length: 4500 words (I am so sorry about this...)

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: The society you live in highly values flawless skin. If someone as a scar their viewed as an outcast or ugly.

MASTERLIST

“Did you see the scar.” A soft voice whispered. I looked up from my book at the two women talking. The women gaze stuck to me like glue. The other women eyes widened. “R-really?” I shut my book getting up from the bench. “Poor girl she’ll never find a husband.” I bite my lower lip feeling the scar on my forearm burn. I looked down seeing my sleeve was rolled up. Letting the long scar be exposed to the world around me.

I swallowed hard rolling my sleeve down. Your scar doesn’t define your beauty... The two woman noticed my gaze and looked away. I walked passed them repeating Your scar doesn’t define your beauty... I breathed getting far away from their judgmental eyes. I better go get father from the bar.

....

I walked into the bar to see my father’s usually chair stool empty. Poe Dameron the Bar tender waved me over. “Hey do you known where my father is?” I asked as he wiped a glass cup. Poe meet my gaze setting the glass down.

“He said was going to the castle-” I cut him off by saying. “What the hell Poe why didn’t you stop him!?!” He chuckled leaning forward pinching my hair between his fingers. “Don’t worry Darling he probably didn’t make it far.” The corner of his lips curled up. His fingers rolled the strand.

“Now enough talk about the old man~ How about we talk about you and me.” I scoffed slapping his hand away. I rolled my eyes turning around. “Hey come on (Y/n)~” I titled my head to look back at him. “Like I said last time no.” I said narrowing my eyes at him.

“Why don’t you want to marry me.” Poe said.

“I already told you like a thousand times.” I said trying to cut the conversation short.

“Come on (Y/n). Do you know that no one else with ask.” Poe cleared his throat. “You know with your little flaw. But I’m willing to look passed it because your beautiful.” I scoffed as he mentioned my scar. The blood in my veins started to boil. I bite the inside of my cheek. Poe was the second person to know about my little flaw. Well it might be four people know remembering the woman from earlier. Ever since he found out about it, his used it as against me trying to force me into marriage. “Plus I’m one of the handsomest man in the village.” I rolled my eyes at him turning around. There a limit of how much Poe I can take and it I was passed my limit.

“Goodbye Poe!” I exclaimed before slamming the door behind me.

....

I sighed rubbing my face. I can’t find him any where... I groaned kicking the stone path below me. He couldn’t have made it far... I tilted my head back to gaze up at the castle that towered over the town. The sun was starting to set in the distance. If I don’t find him the wolfs sure will... I ran over to the entrance of the forest.

I called my father’s name hoping he’d grumble back. He couldn’t have made it far. Poe words replayed in my head. He really doesn’t known my father. I stopped in my tracks staring up at the castle. It was rumored to be homed beast and whoever dared cross into his land would meet their end. I flinched hearing a howl echo from the distance. I would rather face a breast than a wolf any day.

I ran until I got to end up in the courtyard of the castle. My heart pounded hard against my chest. I rushed over to the door pushing it open. The large wooden door creaked open. I sighed taking in my dark surrounding. The rumors about this place being abandon might be true. I flinched hearing the door creak shut behind me.

I stepped forward hearing a crunching sound. I squinted my eyes to see something shiny glistening. I quickly retracted my foot recognizing it was broken glass. The smell of beer swarmed the air. I could recognize that smell anywhere it was Poe’s brewed beer. My father did indeed fall through with his word.

“Dad?” My voice echoed in the dark void.

....

After walking around the long corders of the castle. I stumbled upon this section of jail cells. “Dad.” I said hearing a low grumble. My ears perked snapping my head in the direction of the grumble. “DAD!” I yelled.

“(Y- *Hiccup* /n)” A deep voice murmured. I dashed over to the cell holding my father. He chuckled resting his forehead against the cell doors. “H-how did you get here?” I asked examine the lock.

“How did you get in!” I flinched turning around to face a tall figure. The candle light dimly the strangers masked face. Was this the beast the village people were talking about? Light brown eyes stared down at me. I glanced at the man pink plump lips. He doesn’t seem like a beast...

“A-ah-” I gulped adverting my gaze. “I’m here for my Father.” My Father hiccuped in response.

“You mean this Trespasser is your Father?” The masked man sighed. “I guess that makes sense the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I narrowed my gaze at him standing up straight.

“What?!?” I said clenching my fist.

“You heard me.” He said plainly turning his gaze to my Father.

“You can’t keep him here.” I said crossing my arms.

“Master what is going on?” I looked passed the masked man to see another man, dressed in butler clothes, with fiery red hair, and a slender long face. His blue eyes glanced at me before turning back to the Masked man. I noticed a key ring attached to the Masked mans’ belt. I snatched for it as the man looked back at the red head.

“We have yet again another Trespasser.” The Masked man said letting out a long sigh. His long dark locks brushed his shoulder as he tilted his head to the side.

I quickly unlocked my Father’s cell. “W-what-” The man grabbed my wrist tugging me away from the cell. “RUN!” I yelled seeing my Father eyes sober up. My father broke into a dash. I yanked my wrist from the Masked man’s grip. I pushed him against the wall running after my father. I pushed the Butler back stopping him from grabbing my Father.

“GO!” I screamed as I was pulled back. My father glanced at me saying. “B-But -” I groaned fighting against the Butler’s grip. “I SAID RUN YOU DRUNK IDIOT!” He flinched turning to run down the hall. I elbowed the Butler in the side making him ease his grip. I slipped out of his arms kicking him in the jewels. He grunted cupping his lower parts collapsing to the floor.

“DAMN IT HUX!” The masked man growled grabbing me. I sighed seeing my Father run disappear into the distance. The man known as Hux grunted getting back on his feet. His hands still cupped his crotch as he chased after my Father. I winced feeling the man grip on me tighten.

“Let go.” I demanded trying to fight his grip. He said nothing yanking me back down the cell hallway. I yelped as he pushed me into my Father’s cell. He slammed the metal door shut locking it.

“If he doesn’t catch your father your going to take this place as my prisoner.” He said.

....

“Good morning~” I groaned opening my eyes to see Hux. He smiled tilting his head to the side. His lips pressed into a twisted smile. I closed my eyes turning onto my side. The cold stone sent a shiver up my spine.“Still not awake?” My eyes widened seeing the bucket in his hands. He tilted it making cold water pour down on me. I yelped leaning up into a sitting position.

“ASSHOLE!” I exclaimed making him chuckle.

“Get up Master Ren wants to clean the castle.” Hux said tossing the bucket to the side. “Theres new pair of clothes.” I groaned noticing fabric on the chair.

“I’m not a maid...” I said getting onto my feet.

“Yes you’re if your Master Ren’s prisoner, Now get changed.” Hux demanded kicking the bucket. I walked over to the wooden chair grabbing the dress. I looked over my shoulder to see Hux staring at me.

“Can you leave... I’d like to change in peace.” I said narrowing my eyes at him. He cleared his throat turning to leave. I sighed turning to face the wall.

I rubbed my forearm as I stepped out of the cell.

“What is your name? I’d like to call you by your name and not prisoner all the time.” I flinched pulling my sleeve down. I turned around to face the Masked Man.

“(Y/n).” I stated simply not meeting his gaze. “And I’m not your prisoner.” I flinched feeling a large grab my arm.

“You’re and you will call me Master Kylo Ren.” Kylo demanded squeezing my arm. I grunted yanking my arm from his grip. I brushed passed feeling the burn of his gaze.

A low growl rumbled from the distance. A patch of sliver fur turned around the corner. My eyes widened seeing two onyx orbs staring at me. Kylo chuckled walking over to the large wolf.

“I’ve seen you’ve meet Storm.” Kylo patted the wolfs head. “Warning he isn’t afraid to bite.” Storm growled flashing his long teeth.

....

I dropped the sponge letting out a long sigh. My gaze stared at the wet marble floor below me. A long yawn fell from my lips. I wiped my eye looking up at Storm. Whose was resting on the staircase. I envy the large wolf and his sleeping habits. Because I barely got an full hour of shut eye. Who could blame me because my bed it literally a cold stone floor.

I grabbed the sponge putting it into the bucket. Storm ears perked up opening his eyes to stare at me. He licked his lips getting up. I grabbed my basket walking up the stairs leading to the second floor. Storm glanced back at me every now and than. I bit my lip remembering the time he bite me for running.

I opened up a door to a room I haven’t cleaned yet. Storm fur brushed against my leg. His long nails clicked against the marble floor. I walked over to the curtain pulling it open. Dust tickled my nose making me sneeze. I groaned rubbing my nose. My eyes widened taking in my surrounding. I gasped dashing over to the large bookcases that covered every wall.

“Holy Yoda...” I murmured running my fingertips against the books spine. My gaze glided along each title. I pulled a book from the shelf. A bitter taste soured my tongue. My father actually gave me this book when I was ten. I opened to the first page remember he sold it afterwards to pay for his bar tab. He never really cared for me... If did he would have gotten help. Well that’s if he made out of the forest alive. I inhaled closing the book.

“I see you’ve found the library.” I flinched turning to see Kylo. Kylo stood only a few feet away from me. I exhaled setting the book back onto the bookshelf.

“Am I not aloud to be in here?” I asked cocking an eyebrow. He shook his head stepping closer to me.

“No you can come in here all you want... Just not the east hall.” Kylo said standing next to me. “Do you like to read?” He asked. I chuckled wiping my hands on my dress. If only you known...

“As much as I like breathing.” I answered my gaze wandering once again. “This room is like a wet dream for me.” Kylo choked out a little chuckle. My ears perked up at the sound. I looked at him to see a small smile on his lips. He cleared his throat pulling his lips into a tight line.

Kylo turned facing the bookshelf. His fingertips brushed the book spines. He frowned pulling his hand back. Dust coated his fingertips he wiped his hands on his pants leg.

“Have you read any of them.” I asked trying to start up some conversation. It was rare to have a conversation with another person. So whenever I’ve had the chance I took it. Even though half the time it was with Hux, who only knows how to hold five seconds conversation.

“A few.” Kylo simply answered. I hissed feeling my shoulder muscle tense up. I rubbed the muscle making Kylo turn to me.

“Are you okay?” Kylo asked.

“Yeah my muscles are just sore from sleeping on the floor.” I said rolling my shoulders. Kylo hummed turning his gaze at me. A long silence fell between us. I stared at the masked half of his face.

“Why do you wear that mask?” I asked breaking the silence.

Kylo glanced at me before walking towards the door. “I better see this whole library dusted and cleaned by sun down.” As he left I made a mental note never to ask him about the mask again.

....

The clicking of metal woke me up. I groaned to see Hux glaring at me. “Get up.” He plainly stated opening the cell door. “Before the sun rise would be great.” He rolled his eyes leaning against the door. My eyes widened leaning up.

“W-what’s going on?” I asked raising my eyebrows.

“Master Ren asked me to bring you to another room.” Hux said.

“Does it have a bed?” He rolled his eyes turning to walk away. I took the rude gesture as a yes. No longer shall I lie on the grounder... I thought in an over the top dramatic voice.

Hux lead me to the west wing. Storm laid in front of a large door. Hux stopped at the large door making the wolf wake up. Storm sat up turning his gaze towards me. I leaned down patting Storm on the head.

“Okay get in and go back to sleep.” Hux said pushing me inside.

The twin door shut behind me. The clicking of metal told me Hux locked the door from the outside. I turned taking in my new surroundings. The semi large room only contain a bed and dresser, along with two large windows over looking the forest. I walked over to the dresser to see a letter.

I opened it feeling my lips curl into a small smile.

‘Thought you’d like a bed instead of a cold floor.

Your welcome,

Kylo Ren.’

....

The library doors swing opened. I flinched closing the book I was reading. Storm barked running over to Kylo. I softly exhaled setting the book down. Kylo patted Storm’s head staring at me. A small grin embraced his lips.

“Known I would find you here.” Kylo said walking over to the chair next to me. Ever since that one day Kylo as been slowly opening up to me. Each day he somehow find me. Than again it isn’t hard because I spent most of my time in the library.

“So hows cleaning the library?” He asked in a skeptically tone. I chuckled wiping my hands on my dress.

“Just wonderful~” I joked grabbing the book I set aside. I turned walking over to the latter against the bookshelf. I climbed the latter reaching the top shelf. I exhaled setting the book back onto the shelf. The dust tickled my nose making me sneeze. I yelped losing my grip on the latter. The latter shook making me fall backwards.

I closed my eyes mental getting ready for the impact of pain. Instead I felt two large arms catch me. I opened my eyes to see two brown orbs staring back. He started to lean in a little to close. I glanced at his lips inching closer to mine. My eyes widened quickly getting back on my feet. Kylo cleared his throat adverting his gaze.

“I-I gotta clean...” I spaced out staring at his lips. ”Ah-a something.” I said dashing out of the library. Storm barked chasing after me. I stopped running to lean against the wall. Okay no more running... I closed my eyes catching my breath. Storm barked making me flinch. I looked down at the wolf.

“Sorry I just needed to get out of there...” I said looking around at unfamiliar surroundings. I haven’t seen this hallway before... My heart started to pounded hard against my chest. I turned to see a large painting on the wall. It was a portrait of three people who looked to be a family. My gaze stuck like glue to the little boy with beauty marks all over his smiling face. That can’t be Kylo...

Storm barked at me. “Wait a little bit...” I turned seeing a single door at the end of the hallway. Something about the room was calling me. My legs started to gain a mind of their own. I pushed open the door to walk into a small round room. In the middle lied a round table, a small blade sat upon it. I frowned my eyebrows walking over to the blade.

I brushed my fingers against it. The door slammed opened. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Kylo raised his voice. I flinched turning around to face him. “N-nothing I-” He cut me off by pulling me away from the table.

“YOUR NOT POST TO BE HERE!” He yelled making my whole body shake in fear.

“Let go of me!” I yanked my arm away from his tight grip. I rubbed my arm narrowing my gaze at him. “What the hell is wrong with you.” The flame of anger flickered even brighter.

“WHAT WRONG WITH YOU I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO IN THE EAST HALL! AND WHAT DO YOU DO! GO INTO THE EAST WING!” Kylo exclaimed clenching his fist.

“Look I didn’t mean t-” He cut me off yet again. “YOU WHAT JUST LEAVE!” My eyes widened at his sentence.

“Leave?” I said as he nodded his head. I bite my lower lip brushing passed him.

“FINE I WILL!” I yelled starting to run.

Storm barked ready to chase after me.

“STAY! LET HER GO!” He demanded the ball of sliver fur.

....

The branches of the tree cut against my cheek. I groaned falling to my knees. The rough ground started to dig into my exposed knees. Tears started to run down my cheeks. My breath was ragged and uneven from all the running. I sobbed wiping my tears away.

I was finally free. I could finally go back home... Well I don’t think I can call it home after what my father did. I turned to look back at the castle. I bite my lower lip getting back on my feet. Why are you crying over him... His done nothing but treat you like shit...

I brushed my fingertip against my lower lip. The thought of his lips against mine nearly suck all the air from my lungs. The memory of his arms around me made my head dizzy. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before...

I flinched hear a howl from the distance. The last thing I wanted was to die by a blood hungry wolf. I swore under my breath starting to run again. My foot caught by a large root. I fell blocking my face with my hands. I hissed quickly getting back on my feet.

I froze seeing a patch of sliver fur. I turned my head to hear Storm whine. His jet black eyes shined under the moonlight.

“I’m not going back...” I said turning to hear him whine again. “Nope not doing it.” Storm whined again making me glance back at him. “Nope.” He growled bitting onto the fabric of my dress. I turned tugging onto my dress. “NO!” I tugged back falling back onto my butt. Storm winced releasing my dress fabric.

I huffed glaring at the ball of fluff. Storm laid down resting his chin on my leg. His dark gaze never breaking from mine. “I hate him and you...” Storm winced snuggling his nose against the fabric of my dress.

“Fine I don’t hate you...” He whined again perking up his ears. “Maybe him too.” I known deep down I didn’t hate Kylo, I was just angry at him. Storm wiggled his tail standing up.

“Fine...” I grumbled getting back up. Storm barked tilting his head to the side. I wiped the back of my dress.

.... (Smut)

Storm brushed passed Kylo long legs.

“Your came back...” Kylo said in a low tone but I could hear the emotion in his voice. His freckled pale skin glow under the moonlight. I nodded my head staring deeply into his brown eyes. “ I told you to leave...”

“I known...” I said stepping closer to him.

“Why...” He asked.

“I think you known why.” I said getting on my tippy toes. I cupped his cheeks pulling him down. I captured his lips between mine. Kylo inhaled his hand fell from the door to grip my side.

“Please let me in...” I said placing my hand on his chest. His gaze fell to my hand. “Let me into your heart... Please don’t push me away.” Kylo pulled me into a tight embrace. He stepped back into the castle. The door slowly creaked closed behind us. I leaned in stealing another kiss. He moaned against my lips gripping my backside.

Kylo pulled away catching his breath. He grabbed my hand tugging me behind him. We walked through the long castle halls. I smiled staring at our interlocked hands. He stopped in front of two large doors. The door swung open as he pushed me against it. His lips find their way back to mine. I gasped resting my hands on his shoulders.

I dropped my hands to his shirt as he start to kiss and suck my neck. My fingers quickly undid his white shirt exposing his toned upper body. I kissed his collar bone tracing my fingers along his back muscles. His mask brushed against my skin.

I wanted to see all of him. I softly exhaled running my fingers through his dark locks. My fingers found the tie to his mask. I pressed my lips onto his jawline. I pinched the tie starting to unravel it. He flinched pulling back. But it was to late the mask fell to the floor. My eyes widened upon seeing a large scar cut across his face.

I’ve never met anyone else with a scar. A pang of guilt form in my heart. His large hands covered his face. “D-don’t look at me...” He was ashamed of his scar like I was. I kicked the mask yanked his hands away.

“Let me see you, All of you.” I said flashing his a small grin.

I traced my fingertip along Kylo’s scar. “D-do you still love...” Kylo voice was low and grasp. I retraced my hand from his face meeting his gaze. He frowned staring at my hand. I curled my fingers into the sleeve of my dress. I rolled up my sleeve showing him my scar. His eyes widened upon seeing my scar. He grabbed my forearm rubbing his thumb along the scar.

“Scars doesn’t define your beauty.” I said cupping his cheek. His plump lips curled at the corners. My gaze flickered between his lips and eyes. He started to inch closer to me. I looped my arms around his neck.

“I do still find you attractive, Kylo... Love is not just all about looks.”

I closed my eyes feeling his lips against mine. He hummed gliding his hand to my hips. I deemed the kiss brushing my tongue against his lower lip. He groaned letting my tongue wander in. I moaned feeling his hands tighten on my hips. He inhaled making his tongue fight against mine.

Kylo pulled my sleeves off my shoulder. My dress fell to the floor leaving in my undergarments. I quickly got back to work undoing his pants. Kylo broke the kiss pushing me down. I gasped feeling the bed break my fall. He pulled his pants down, kicking them aside.

I leaned up pulling him down. He leaned down supporting his weight on his hands. My lips smashed against his. He grunted spreading my legs open. I moaned feeling his clothed length against my clothed heat. My fingers found their way through his hair. He groaned bucking his hips against mine. I winced tugging on his strands.

I leaned back catching my breath. Kylo smirked making a trail of kisses leading down to my neck. I groaned rocking my hips against his. He bucked his hips roughly against me.

“Fuck Kylo~” I whined rocking against him. His hard twitched against my heat.

“What do you want?” Kylo asked his breath tickled my tender skin. I winced rolling my hips again. His right hand wandered down my body. I exhaled feeling his middle finger push aside my panties. His large fingertip tease my folds. I harshly inhaled digging my nails into his back. I started to suck onto his neck. He exhaled pressing his fingertip roughly against my clit. I moaned against his neck.

“Your already so wet.” Kylo mumbled parting my walls with his finger. I gasped throwing my head back as he added another digit. His fingertips rubbed my wall in a scissor motion. I moaned feeling my toes curl. Kylo noticed this reaction rubbing the spot again. I gasped bucking my hips against his hand.

“Kylo~” I winced pulling down his boxers. Kylo extracted his digits from my heat replacing it with something else. I gasped arching my back off the bed. He grunted rocking his hips into me. His length parted my walls even wider than his fingers. I bite my lower lip. He kept slowly rolling his hips into me.

With each thrust would extracted a wince from my lips. I inhaled clenching my walls around his girth. He grunted started to pick up his thrust. I looped my legs around his waist bringing him closer. My nails started to dig into his shoulders.

“Kylo!” I moaned rocking my hips against his. His pace started to become slow and rough. Each ridge of his cock slowly rubbed against my walls. I pulled him down for another kiss. He grunted running his fingers through my hair. His thumb rubbed against my jawline.

Kylo grunted out my name slamming into me. I closed my eyes moaning out his name. My toes curled as my back arched. Fireworks of pleasure crackled through out my body. He groaned slowly thrusting into me. I basted in my organism as he released inside my walls.

Kylo exhaled resting his face between my breast. His warm breath tickled my glossed over skin. I softly exhaled running my fingers through his hair. I kissed the top of his head. His length softened and slipped out of me. I rubbed his back feeling his muscle relax under my touch.

“Please don’t leave me...” He mumbled looking up at me.

“I don’t plan on it.” I said kissing his forehead. Kylo smiled laying on his side. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest.

“You promise...” Kylo said kissing the top of my head.

“Promise.” I said my voice was muffled by his chest. I closed my eyes wrapping my arms around him.

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