#Elegant White Gold Bracelets

[binenbaumaj]

Diamond 18k "3-Row Tennis" Bracelet 15800-8648

Indulge in the brilliance of our Vintage 3-Row Tennis Bracelet, showcasing 3.40ct of H-I SI1 diamonds in a unique fishtail setting. Crafted in Italy from white 18k gold, this piece combines timeless elegance with intricate design. 💎✨ Italy.

Details: ±3.40ct (H-I SI1) Brilliant-cut diamonds, 18k Bracelet, Italy.

Design Era: Vintage.

Dimensions: D 17,5 x W 0,7 cm .

Weight in grams: 17.

Condition: Very good condition - slightly used with small signs of wear.

Shipping and Pickup: This beautiful piece ships from our store located in the center of Amsterdam, The Netherlands. We offer both registered shipping and local pickup at our store. In the case of local pickup, any applicable shipping costs will be refunded.

About Us: Add some sparkle to your style with Binenbaum.com. We offer a stunning selection of antique and vintage jewelry that you won't find anywhere else. From timeless rings and dazzling necklaces to unique brooches, we have something for every taste and occasion. Visit our website today and treat yourself to a piece of history.

[augustinewrites]

dress + nanami

“i bought you something.”

you frown slightly, eyeing the sleek box that nanami places on the bed.

“but i didn’t get you anything…”

he simply smiles, gently taking your hand and smoothing his thumb over the gold band adorning your ring finger. “allowing me to marry you this afternoon was the greatest gift you could ever give me.”

memories of your little ceremony still linger in the forefront of your mind. you’d married him atop a small rooftop garden filled with this season’s blooms, surrounded by your closest friends and family. you’d never been an extremely sentimental person, but the way he’d gazed at you and whispered vows meant for your ears and yours alone…you’d hold that close to your heart forever.

“no take backs, by the way,” you say when you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes once more. “you’re stuck with me, even though i snore.” 

“your snores are adorable. like a bunny holding a chainsaw.”

“hey!” you laugh, letting him wrap his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

“just let your husband spoil you, hm?”

nanami loves to spoil you. he’s always had such lovely taste, picking soft, pretty things that catch his eye in shop windows— a pair of leather gloves, a stylish sweater, a diamond bracelet. each gift is thoughtful, always complimenting you perfectly,

you lift the lid of the box, peeling back layers of tissue paper to reveal a delicate, silky white dress.

“kento…” you breathe, feeling his lips curl into a smile against your skin. gingerly, you lift the feather-light dress by dainty straps, taking in the cowl neck and tasteful high slit. 

simple, yet elegant, like him. 

“for you to wear to the reception,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. “do you like it?”

“i love it,” you tell him truthfully, turning to look at him. “help me put it on?” 

your husband couldn’t look more pleased, especially when deft fingers undo the back of your bespoke wedding gown and he sees what you’d snuck on underneath.

but nanami is nothing if not efficient, clearing his throat before helping you step out of your current dress and into your new one, the material gliding against your skin like butter.

“you’re a vision,” he whispers, brushing another kiss to the back of your neck. with heat in your cheeks, you turn in his embrace, bringing your lips up to his. 

the rest of the world begins to melt away, as it often does when you’re with him. but it’s different now. it’s different because in the eyes of the law, you’ve chosen him and he’s chosen you. 

so you share eager kisses in the warm lamplight of the hotel room, his hands gentle as they slide over the smooth material of your dress. 

and eventually, up the slit resting atop your thigh. his warm hands rest on your bare skin, setting off sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“we shouldn’t,” you breathe as he plants open mouthed kisses on the hollow of your throat. “we need to check on our guests— you know satoru gets weepy when he’s had more than one drink.” 

nanami pulls back to look at you, pupils blown with desire as he takes in your smeared lipstick and wide-eyed stare.

he responds by pulling you close with his grip on your hips, a groan slipping past your lips as he does so. 

“they can wait,” he tells you, walking you backwards until your knees buckle against the edge of the bed. “i’ve waited long enough to be alone with my wife.”

he’s waited for this moment even when he hadn’t realized he’d wanted this, wanted you. he’s wanted it since the days you’d shared at jujutsu tech, when he’d been a besotted schoolboy, pining after his classmate. 

nanami’s always been a patient man—

he yanks the skirt of your new dress up around your hips and kisses a trail down your chest.

— except when he’s not.

[harmonysanreads]

Playing Dress Up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Blade

Heads up: Female!Reader, Possessive Behaviors, Very Self Indulgent

-; ੈ♡˳ SUNDAY

Sunday seeks refinement in every aspect of his life, this does not fail to extend to how you'll dress yourself while tied to his prestige as well. Sifting and digging through uncountable articles on women's fashion, extensive research on sources to make his vision come to life — Sunday hadn't even put this much effort into drafting his own style. What beget this initiative is rooted in his innate desire to make your connection to him clear through means sans saying it outright, though he'd much rather present it as his attempt in searching for a style that is uniquely yours ; which he does wish for to a degree, not to fret.

Your clothing will be weaved from scratch with the finest threads, silk and satin will be cut, folded and stitched to perfection. Even the measurements of your clothing will be penned down by the man himself : skirts must be of moderate length, not too long or too short and necklines must be modest. Said attires will be painted in shades of white, blue and gold ; his colors in short. But anything under these graceful dresses will be sleek black, a secret that'll never meet the public eye. The motifs of his halo will be skillfully engraved on the canvas that is you ; woven on the dresses, tempered in jewelry to adorn your hair and ears and not even your shoes will be spared.

The principle Sunday follows throughout this charade is complexity through simplicity. While one might think you'd look much like an over-groomed poodle after this, the gentle elegance of the reality will surprise even you. That is because Sunday practices caution in areas that are easy to complicate, jewelry for example. He's partial to earrings, bracelets, brooches and hair ornaments — not necklaces as he prefers the unobstructed beauty of your decolletage. Even those few ornaments are not gaudy in design, selected exclusively to accompany than to steal the stage. But the stones, diamonds and pearls he orders to be embedded in them are far precious than they initially suggest. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of Sunday's struggle was concentrated in the makeup area, for which, he had before anything else, scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist. Only when he had a detailed report on what products would suit your skin and what would harm you did he place the orders. Sunday thinks this endeavor to be much like conducting an orchestra : not all will understand why the conductor standing on the podium spins and twirls the baton, but when the tunes from the instruments unite and bring the melodies to life, it all makes sense.

-; ੈ♡˳ AVENTURINE

Aventurine has no patience for subtlety and employs bold tactics to get his message across. Should someone be naive enough to interrogate the man himself in his extravagant displays, he'll be unflinching in his reasoning as well. No amount of zeroes attached to the price tags or repeated cursory glances from passerbys will deter him in his shopping spree and should you complain about the mounting amount of bags — well, he has two perfectly functioning arms and adjacent shoulders sparkling in their vacancy, doesn't he? Your job is to just point out what catches your eyes, sweetheart.

The Stoneheart has discovered a sweet spot for matching since you entered his life ; which will materialize in earrings, bracelets, rings, hats, sunglasses, coats, chokers and the list goes on. Even though he gives you fair chances in choosing your attire, he'll not so discreetly sneak in pieces that'll reek of him. In occasions where this charade gets spectated by more than two pairs of eyes, Aventurine is less teasing and more edified in his intentions. Blue, pink and emerald coating fabrics that expose more than they cover will mock wanton eyes and they'll say loud and clear — this will never be yours.

Aventurine's favorite part has to be picking the perfumes for you. If you already have preferences, he'll scout the finest brand of that fragrance and make sure no other being in the expanding universe will be able to acquire it from then onwards. It just so happens that he also sees the importance of securing something that is uniquely you. If you're indecisive about perfumes, then even better! You can be doused in the fragrances he indulges in, keep no doubt that they'll be tasteful.

All this glamour might give the impression that Aventurine never allows you or himself to ever be stripped of the fanciful, glimmering and glittering layers oozing with the repute of uncountable credits. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find his lax attitude concerning your nightwear. You did not see any flickers of that ravenous flame concealed beneath enigmatic smiles even if you wore something bruised and tattered by time or, if you stole something from his wardrobe upon a random urge. Perhaps in moments overlooked by the light of distant stars, he treasures above all the sight of you in your most natural state, and wishes he could indulge in the same vulnerability as well.

-; ੈ♡˳ DR RATIO

The prodigious Veritas Ratio loves watching you get dressed, although there's a scarce chance of him openly admitting to his shameless ogling. Ironically, his genius receives negative marks when he tries to search for a rational reason as to why he continues regardless of your teasing — which, just so happen to never have sufficient burn to deter him for good. There's an odd sense of peace in spectating you building your look, in the movements of various tools and scattered, dexterous hand gestures. To him, it's almost synonymous to sculpting ; shaping something unremarkable to a display of skill and artistry.

Ratio thinks studious scholar should never limit their perspectives, which is why he tries to broaden his agenda with new experiences constantly — or at least, that's the excuse he ultimately settles on. He's yet to tell you of this, but he's certain he's acquired quite the quantity of knowledge on makeup from his observations. He knows the difference between foundations and concealers, in which order the cosmetics are applied and has a decent understanding about shades and highlights. It's safe to say, you can rely on him on this matter should there ever arise such an occasion.

When it comes to clothing, Ratio appears to be quite indecisive, form fitting or loose, he has no issues. The area where he is particularly strict, is hygiene. Which means no missed baths, or any half-hearted showers. After he's found himself comfortable in your presence, he'll take personal initiative to make sure your baths are never boring. Fragrant body washes, essential oils, exquisite rose water, bath bombs, shampoos — he has it all covered. Another astounding discovery for the scholar was that he adores taking care of your hair, in particular. He always takes extra caution when washing it, buys smoother combs so that it might not get damaged and occasionally tries different hairstyles — though he's not very skilled at it. But learning has never been an effortless process to begin with, he's sure he'll be able to decorate your hair the way he desires properly one day.

-; ੈ♡˳ BLADE

Blade seldom comments on your choice of attire, but it doesn't mean that he never thinks about it. He prefers to dismiss most of those bubbling thoughts, for what does a weapon understand of fashion senses and trends? What he does offer you instead are drawling stares tiptoeing before the line of glares. Insufficient time knowing the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter will prove your inefficiency in understanding his brooding gazes. Should you directly ask his opinion on a certain outfit, it'll not earn you more than a grunt or a hum. But coming from Blade, that would be considered a lot.

In truth, Blade finds himself bewildered before the feelings you stir within him through the most mundane actions. He was certain that wanton emotions, urges and his humanity were devoured by the curse. For centuries, he wandered without a definitive purpose, stewing in the rage and hatred bubbling from his fate. Above all, he did not think himself human. So when you, in all your bright and humane light dug through the battered cage of his ribs and made yourself its soul resident, tugging him closer closer closer towards that tunnel's end through seemingly meaningless antics — Blade was lost.

It made him afraid sometimes, for the unreachable end that he always clawed towards seemed to lose its appeal before you. When he realized one day that he liked lighter colors on you, that he enjoyed watching you practice a hairstyle for hours, that he loved how your lips shimmer after a swipe of lip gloss, that he'd not trade the matching tassels you gifted him on a whim for the universe — the appalling realization that living is just a tiny bit more bearable with you around crashed on his beliefs and destroyed him beyond repair. Which is why, for the longest time, he didn't know how to respond to any of your gestures ; far too occupied with processing whether its the talons of mara digging into his sanity or just plain pleasant emotions.

Blade is often irresolute when you ask for his opinion on your clothing, not because he has not the faintest idea of what is considered appealing but because, you just look good in everything in his eyes. There's a particular garment though, form fitting Qipao with cheeky side slits that had him run the first time you wore it. Only after Kafka's reassurance that no, it isn't his mara was he able to gather the courage to approach you again. In conclusion, be prepared for every possible outcome when you're dolling yourself up for Blade.

[bloddysnow]

Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Sylus x Dom! reader

nsfw minors dni

Sylus’s on the balcony of your quarters, feeling a light breeze caressing his skin. The stars and the moon shone brightly in the sky, giving the night a magical shade. In this tranquility, he’s enjoying the silence, allowing his thoughts to wander freely.

He remembers, the first time he went to the emperor's quarters after the wedding as a ritual. He was carefully prepared for the first night with you.

It all started with a hot bath filled with fragrant oils and rose petals. The aromas of lavender, jasmine and sandalwood mixed in the air, enveloping them in a warm cloud of exquisite aroma.

After the bath, his skin was saturated with aromas and became soft as silk. The servants with respect and caution helped to dress up in the most chic clothes decorated with precious stones, which shone like stars. These outfits were made of the finest fabrics, decorated with gold and silver threads that shone in the light of candles. It was like art created specifically for this special moment. Thin bracelets and necklaces, sounding melodious with every movement, added even more elegance and refinement.

When the preparations were completed, the waiting moment came. His heart was beating faster, filled with excitement and anticipation. He stood at the door leading to your quarters, feeling the solemnity of the moment.

Sylus remembers how he was taught to behave on the first night. He must show his respect by kissing the hem of your clothes. Eyes shouldn't have met yours. He was forbidden to address you by your name. The most important thing concerned his innocence. That night there had to be proof of his purity - blood, that would be evidence of his virginity.

If the emperor was pleased, he remained in the quarters until the morning. If you found him attractive, he got the opportunity to be breed, which was the highest sign of favor and recognition of his beauty. This meant that you found him worthy to carry your seed, symbolizing the continuation of the family and the strengthening of the dynasty.

The emperor's quarters were magnificent. The soft light of the candles was reflected in mirrors and precious stones, creating a magical play of light and shadows. The air was saturated with aromas of incense, which filled the space with peace and warmth. Floor, covered with luxurious carpets, made his steps soft and almost inaudible. There was silence around, broken only by the light crackling of the flame of candles.

He held his head low when he carefully kissed the hem of your fabric. You gently took him by the chin, lifting his face. His eyes, full of passion and fear, met yours. Sylus was the embodiment of beauty that you wanted to keep in your memory forever. You ran your hand over his cheeks, gently straightening his hair behind his ear. He was so nervous that his hands squeezed his own clothes. There was a tense silence in the room, every sound seemed louder.

"Your Highness I..." you interrupted him with an unexpected kiss on the lips. His cheeks and ears were red, and his lips were slightly open and trembling.

"I'll please you. Do you want it?" you asked, your voice was soft. He forgot how to breathe for a moment. The look of his eyes became even more focused, he seemed lost at that moment.

"Thank you for your mercy your majesty. It's a great honor for me," he whispered, struggling to hold back the trembling in his voice.

Sylus cried in pain, feeling his body torn into two parts. You wanted the process to be less painful as possible, so carefully put only the tip. He held the white sheets tightly, moaned quietly, trying to cope with the overwhealed sensations. His hole was too tight for your cock to enter. You raised his legs to his shoulders, changing the angle of penetration. At that moment, he whined loudly, hugging your neck. His breathing was intermittent and his eyes were full of tears. Your cock entered with one sharp push. A drop of blood came out of his hole, indicating that his hole had lost its innocence. Your cock is deep inside him, and he felt a mixture of pain and pride. He was proud of himself.

He remembers how on the first night you thanked him by breeding him with your seeds. He was so young and naive that when you cum inside, he sincerely told you that he’s pregnant now. Your laughter filled the room. His youth and inexperience were charming. He still smiles when he remembers that evening. This moment has become one of those bright and unforgettable memories that he keeps in his heart.

Suddenly, he felt warm hands wrapped around his waist, and a light smile played on his lips. You came up from behind, pressing your face against the curve of his neck and inhaled his pleasant, soothing aroma. His hands gently caressed yours, twisting your fingers. He looked dreamily at the stars, which seemed to crumble across the sky with endless diamonds.

Moonlight fell on his face, illuminating his features and making them even more expressive. His skin seemed silvery, and his eyes twinkled in the dark, reflecting the light of the moon and stars. You raised your hands to his chest, gently squeezing it, feeling his heart beating. His chest rose and fell with every breath.

"It's beating for you, your highness," Sylus whispered, looking at the starry sky. His words sounded like a quiet prayer or a wish directed to an endless height. You kiss his neck, gently and affectionately. Your lips touched his skin with warmth and love, as if conveying all your feelings through this simple but meaningful gesture.

Masterlist

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Can't get the whole "Do you think you'd kill for me one day ?" "Yes, of course I will my darling" out of my head, but make it the Papas x their most devoted ghouls. Basically murder ghouls offering very morbid gifts to the Papas. They like it.

TW for morally grey characters - both Papas and ghouls - blood, kind of body horror, I guess ? I think it is. It might be a bit disturbing, so. Read with caution.

Earth bringing a beautiful bottle to Primo's office one day, something definitely meant for rituals, a masterpiece of carefuly crafted glass, full of a dark red liquid. Too dark to be wine. He simply sets it on a shelf, under the First's cautious eyes, and in an instant, Primo knows.

"Won't it...coagulate, or...I don't know, dry, rot ?" he asks from behind his desk, setting his glasses down in front of him. Earth smiles, adjusting the bottle so that the light catches it just right.

"I made sure it won't."

Primo smiles when the ghoul takes his hand and presses a kiss to the ring he's wearing.

"Take care not to drink it, your body wouldn't like it much."

Primo cocks an eyebrow.

"You gift me a full bottle of blood - human, i presume - and I'm not even allowed to drink it ? How very tragic."

Earth's chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You can only wish to be a vampire, but, do not act like this isn't a power trip for you. Having someone's blood displayed in your office. Being able to admire its unique color."

Primo's smile widens.

Secondo looking up from his work, carefully setting the ancient book he's restauring on the side when Alpha leans against the doorframe, hands behind his back.

Once he's sure he has the former Papa's full attention, Alpha steps in, setting something on the desk, between Secondo's hand.

It's a paperweight, the kind he loves, heavy half globe of glass, in which is trapped a curiosity ; Secondo has a growing collection of those.

It's the first time, though, that an eye is staring blindly at him from within its transparent confine. A beautiful shade of brown, that eye, rich and deep, with flecks of gold ; Secondo leans closer to examine it.

"Fascinating," he comments, "you know me too well."

Alpha grins, rounding the desk to stand behind Secondo's chair, massaging his tense shoulders as he whispers against his ear.

"Took me a while to find the color I wanted, I know you have a thing for that kind of brown eyes."

Secondo hums, turning the paperweight this way and that, letting light bounce off it, projecting rainbows on the wall. It will definitely have a special place on his desk, so that Secondo will be able to gaze at it whenever he wishes to.

Alpha kisses the corner of his mouth, almost reverently, and Secondo puts the paperweight down, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Omega helping Terzo dress one morning, but just as the former Papa is about to move away, his ghoul tugs on his sleeve, shoving something in his hand.

What the rosary is made of is, Terzo immediately knows. The beads, the inverted cross, they're an ivory white that is quite impossible to mistake for anything other than it is.

By the way Omega hooks his chin on Terzo's shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle, the former Papa has no doubt it's important for him, that gift.

"It's lovely, my dear ghoul. Did you make it yourself ?"

Terzo really means it. The piece of jewlery is delicate and elegant, something he'll wear with pride.

"I did. I'm glad you like it."

A pause. Terzo takes a moment to bask in Omega kissing up his neck, before he slips the rosary around it.

"Should I ask who's bones I'm wearing ?"

Omega chuckles, face now burried in his hair.

"You know better. All that matters is that you look fantastic, wearing someone's bone."

Terzo does, so he simply smiles, admiring how the necklace rests on his chest in the mirror, sinking into Omega's embrace.

Dew, wordlessly slipping a bracelet around Copia's wrist after practice. He looks down, surprised, as the ghoul lingers, hovering at his side.

A thin chain, trinkets dangling from it, mostly tiny coins with infernal symbols engraved on them and....oh. Teeth. Well, they sure look healthy.

Copia takes to examinate them, tests the point of a canine, pleased to find it still sharp, humming under his breath.

"That's quite the work you've put in, Dew, thank you. It's beautiful."

The fire ghoul takes Copia's hand, turning it until he can kiss the inside of his wrist.

"I figured you'd like it. They're perfect, aren't they ?"

Copia takes another teeth between his two fingers, holding it up for further inspection, smiling at how flawless it is.

"They sure are. Wish I had that kind of dental care, eh."

Dew snorts, tail gently squeezing Copia's hips, who let himself be pulled in the ghoul's side.

[somewhereincairparavel]

What would the seven wear? - Fashion Style analysis ( HOO Girls Ver.)

as a kid I used to want to be a fashion designer so making this post healed my inner child <3 enjoy ~

HAZEL LEVESQUE - okay okay omgg this girl would have the best fashion sense out of all of them (imo) because she is influenced by SO many fashion aesthetics, like her style would be vintage and modern at the same time! I feel like she would love long flowy dresses because it was the most common clothing women would wear in the 40's, she would love floral patterns sm because they are so cheery and it lightens her mood, this would bring out her "adorable" style more. also. JACKETS. this girl is OBESSED with jackets and cardigans, particularly in the colors brown and black. Overall her style is a mix of cheery, cute but she has that pluto edge to her style aswell with the jackets.

PIPER MCLEAN- honestly as much as she would hate to admit it, i feel like Piper would LOVE pink, pale pink takes up the majority of her palette. Her style is very youthful and it's a mix of rebel indie kid and soft coquette core. LOVES LOVES LOVES denim shorts, they are like a must in her wardrobe. Also, She loves jewelry, whether it be tassel earrings, beady bracelets and necklaces, rings etc. like she defo cares more about accessorizing than the actual clothing. she wears baggy white shirts a lot for some reason, but it suits her so well. Crop tops are a must, specifically pink or purple ones with a cute image on it, remember she wore a hello kitty crop top? yeah like that. I feel like her style is the most fresh and childlike without it being over the top, it is so cute. i love her style sm.

ANNABETH CHASE- Annabeth's style is super elegant tbh, she LOVES wearing grey, orange and white imo, also, i feel like she LOVES light blue/dark blue jeans. Ofc Annabeth loves caps, its like super dear to her, she doesn't have a specific "style" she just loves changing it a lot. Annabeth LOVES long dresses especially if they are white/warm brown. Her style is just super chill and modern. Percy is down bad when she wears baggy shirts tho cuz she slays so hard in them Annabeth loves knitted lace jackets because it gives off very homely vibes. Overall her style is super authentic and fresh tbh.

REYNA AVILA RAMIREZ ARELLANO- i have a feeling that reyna would love dressing up. it brings her comfort, she was the hairdresser in circe's island after all, Reyna is just straight up royal core. she likes wearing corsets, and silk gowns, Her color palette is gold, black, white, violet, and dark maroon tbh. Reyna LOVES large gold earrings that just dangle y'know? it makes her feel and look regal. She also loves circlets that you wear on the head. uggh she has got that roman classiness y'know. Super fancy and enjoys wearing long robes and skirts, i love my fancy shmancy queen <3

[xxcrystalinerose]

Can't believe I'm actually actively playing this game again because of the Return of the King Hat Guy (and Crewmeru). That extra little WQ seals the deal for me, and made me not only clear Cyno's SQ 2 which has been sitting in my backlog due to burnout but also replay Kaveh's hangout while I'm at it.

Anyways, I guess it's time I actually share these Sabzerus festival designs I made ages ago? Starting with the birthday girl herself and her funny hat(less) man. I feel like it's an atrocity that nobody actually wears Indian traditional dress in this game, and I also put Hat Guy in one to even out the roster. Making the embroidery patterns may have killed my hand but I persevered.

Detailed shots and some design thoughts under the cut!!

Nahida's design is a game of "how many times can I draw the Dendro symbol without repeating it too obviously"

Her lehenga choli is inspired by a beautiful white and dark green set I saw on Google. My Indian friend advised to not make her outfit too predominantly white, so I made sure the dupatta is dark green and added darker borders. Honestly, Nahida would look so much better if her outfit isn't almost entirely white!

The patterns on her skirt include lotuses, vajras, and the upside-down Dendro symbol. Her jewelry are made of gold, emeralds (rejuvenation, harmony), white diamonds (strength), and pearls (elegance, grace, purity, wisdom, the Moon).

Wanderer's sherwani pattern is a lotus pattern I made myself :) It is rather heavy, but the dupatta is made of fine silk.

His bracelets are based on Buddhist prayer beads (right hand) and a kangan (ornate, heavy bangle type). The same Indian friend suggested it to me because bangles represent "delicateness" and aren't often on men, but he does canonically have a history of wearing feminine articles i.e. his veil as the Kabukimono, so I incorporated it.

His jewelry are made of gold and turquoise. His sherwani is sapphire-colored (wisdom, intuition, mental clarity).

While Nahida does have ghanta imagery on her canon outfit, I decided to emphasize the vajra on her design, and the ghanta on Wanderer's design i.e. his neck accessory. They're an inseparable, matching set.

[annacory-blog]

Dance or die

I fell in love with another fic by @ulysses000 and then Spotify provided me with a perfect song. I had to draw them to exorcise that image from my head.

As per tradition - below is my attempt in translation. I want to make complete translation so badly (this is probably one third)! I believe this story deserves more attention. But can some kind English speaker confirm it is readable???

Love this fic specially from WoD perspective, it cultivates such delicious feeling of emptiness. And while technically, it has a happy end, you can not get rid of bitter taste of loss. Their requiem is not life, and there no way back. All is gone!

—————————————————-

Music stops abruptly. The dancefloor is silent, mob looks around in bewilderment. All eyes are focused on a flimsy, dirty stage. There, litten by sophites, stands brunette, cladded in a black robe. Calmly she re-adjusts many necklaces and bracelets, adorning her bosom and wrists. She checks microphone, softly tapping it with elegant finger, nonplussed by screeching sound it makes or the yells thrown her way from down the stage. For a while she silently stares in the drunk faces below, until eventually rowdy voices are reduced to quiet, unhappy mumble in the back rows.

-"What would you like to say, before the end of the world?"

-"Go fuck yourself!" - someone yells back from the crowd. Brunette’s smiles softly. Her blue eyes sparkle. This sight will be their last before headless body collapses to the floor.

View from the stage is absolutely terrific. It reminds of a late spring evening in the mansion by the sea. Bodies sway in panic, almost as grass would in a lush fields. Writings on the wall glitter with red as if they were remnants of the sunset caught in clouds. Screams - voices of seagulls. Sweet aroma that spreads across the room reminds of freshly brewed Irish coffee. Eyes locked on the bright fountains. Droplets shimmer in the air with a multitude of colour. Content. Do not argue with Mother. It is a simple rule every kid should know. Because, no matter how kind, gentle and understanding Mother is, she is not all sweets and praises. She also has an iron glove to treat the unruly child. Anyone who dares to confront her will surely drown in their own blood.

-"Now, dance or die."

Music never heard in this walls engulfs space. Stirring voice of the violin is echoed by screams, cello is perfectly complimented by heart-rending howls. Robin is not at all surprised by this harmony of cries and choir chanting. Clocks have just reached zero and this means, time for celebration has finally come. Perfect night to forge a timeless bond between the beloved child and the dear friend. Trafalgar stands on the stage, as if he always was there. Pity no one minds what is happening in the spotlight. He looks tidier than usual, ceremonial. Shirt, tie, three piece suit, shoes - all in various shades of black, all fitted perfectly. His gaze briefly stops on the couple of cadavers lying by the stage, then moves to the brunette.

-"Playing with food, aren’t we?"

-"Tarao, symbolism never was one of your strengths." - She smiles softly and shakes her head, - "Don’t try to grasp, what is beyond you. Just think of it as a cog in the well oiled machine."

Flowers on wreath along the walls move, as if troubled by the gust of wind, candle lights flicker, and blond man appears by Robin’s side. Sanji fiddles with the hem of his suit anxiously, fixes invisible wrinkles on the bouquet wrap. Trafalgar thought he put more than enough efforts to look decent tonight, however he wouldn’t stand a chance if this was a competition. Sanji's clan has been know for this aura of perfection, but even among his kin - he is special. Where the rest emmit light of the full moon, Sanji’s light would blind you as hot summer sun in zenith. He holds ten white roses - stark contract against his black suit. Pale of petals resonates with pale of the skin, highlights the gold of his hair. Trafalgar cannot possibly look away and no disciplines are to blame for this magic. Little smile slips from under his control “this is beautiful” he thinks.

-"Sorry for being late" - blond tuck one long golden lock behind the ear. Eyes drift towards the dance floor, but do not linger there. Woman chuckles softly - so innocent.

-"I was worried you made your escape."

-"Please, don’t ruin the moment" - gaze of his blue eyes seems to be glued to the wooden planks of the stage, then he looks up, eyes meet with Robin’s.

They nod, almost simultaneously, and only after Sanji musters enough of courage to look to the other man. His gaze shamelessly devours all the minute details he can grasp, it is hard to tell, if he desperately tries to avert attention from the bloodbath on the dance floor, or genuinely admires the sight. Trafalgar thinks he would be happy with both reasonings. Laws lips move soundlessly forming few words. Sanji chuckles and replies in the same manner: “you too, idiot”.

-"Ladies and Gentlemen." - maybe a dozen of eyes flicker back in response to sweet, calm voice of the woman. Short break taken from tormenting the flesh, generously soaked with blood and tears. Bodies contort with the fear for their life. - "Tonight, before the Dark Mother’s eyes, souls of two cursed sons of hers will be united. Every kindred present here shall witness the making of endless, mutual death." - her eyes run across the dance floor, reading the mood of the guests. - "the Vinculum should not be broken. Anyone who dares an attempt to weaken the bond will be hunted by The Circle of the Crone," - she looks for a moment into particularly dark corner - "as well as by our brothers and sisters from Ordo Dracul."

Her gaze shifts to the dark haired man, waiting for him to return the attention.

-"Now you can speak your vows."

Trafalgar makes a step forward, reaches to touch cold pale fingers, swallows heavily before he starts to speak.

-"I, Trafalgar D Water Law, hereby take Vinsmoke Sanji into my Requiem forever." - envelops his hand gently and carefully - "I swear before all that is holy and all that is unholy that we, tonight, seal our fates by bonds of dedication and honor. When my partner is hungry, I will bring food." - Sanji chuckles quite and bright - "When my partner sleeps, I will watch and bear witness upon waking." - He squints, eyes slit, as if targeted by bright lamp. - "When my partner is afraid, I will give comfort, and when my partner is wronged, I will have vengeance." - Cool fingers caress back side of the hand. - "This I swear on the blood, and the flame and the spirit."

In his blue eyes flashing light reflects, candles burning twice as bright with the last spoken words. Law squises cold hand, trying to reassure, give comfort, prevent flashes from setting kindred's mind aflame.

-"I, Vinsmoke Sanji, hereby take Trafalgar D Water Law into my Requiem forever." - his voice sweetest thing that ever touched ears, in both life and un-life, - "I swear before all that is holy and all that is unholy that we, tonight, seal our fates by bonds of dedication and honor." - His fleeting touch playfully skims through tan fingers, icy sensation brings sober clarity and bliss of inebriation at the same time. - "When my partner is hungry, I will bring food." - Law’s smile is barely there. - "When my partner sleeps, I will watch and bear witness upon waking. When my partner is afraid, I will give comfort," - he is the most gentle and kindhearted, so much is obvious in every syllable of every word. - "And when my partner is wronged, I will have vengeance. This I swear on the blood, and the flame and the spirit."

Sanji’s hold on the hand gets firmer as he expects another rise of firy glow to radiate the room. Little girl steps forward from behind the stage, she is silent and obedient. So small, seven years at most, her deep chocolate eyes glazed with indifference, strawberry blond hair braided in two pig tales, white gown hugs fragile figure. She stares ahead absently, woman’s hands leading her by shoulders.

-"Time to make the sacrifice." - hand outstretched to pass the ritual knife. Fingers gently support ragged blade.

Trafalgar feels how kindred’s claws pierce his skin. He might have broken few bones, if older wouldn’t strengthen his grip in response. It is heard for Sanji. This is easily seen, his eyes shift frantically, his lips stripped of smile and crooked. Even his touch feels colder than before. He never have taken the life of a sentient being. Even in death Sanji remained pure, his hands and soul unmarred by murder of mortals. Law knows other is hurting, in his eyes this child is seen as a spit image of the older sister. Trafalgar himself lost in the shattered memories for a moment. Girl reminds his late sister, who died too young too long ago. Despite that he knows he will have enough resolve to put this innocent child to rest, as she obediently waits for her own demise.

This is essential part for the completion of the ritual. Sanji knows it. This is not news, but he can’t keep his long dead heart from burning and spasming disgusted by creeping acceptance. He was the one who proposed marriage. He organized most of the celebration. He thought about it many times, about this particular moment he has to take someone’s life, scenario played in his head on repeat. But it is not something you can be prepared for. This is wedding. They are about to enter mutual un-life, their souls are to be bound for the eternal death, forfeiting innocence, killing personification of their past. Together.

His hand is shaking, but Sanji hides it, only grip on the hilt gets stronger. Her face is gentle and soft, with neat childish features, but her eyes are dead already, trapped under Mother’s hypnotic influence. Embroidery on the gown matches hair colour. She looks like a little princess. Sanji forgets to imitate the leaving, his thorax freezes mid inhale, mechanical movement abandoned. He thought he would be able to do it, to confront the past, to kill for the sake of something new, for the sake of future. But this first step is terrifying. All his being is trapped, Staring in the eyes of the Beast, unable to move. Sanji doesn’t want to lose his humanity, he is afraid to slip, to get comfortable with the idea of supremacy over humans, his own strength, his right to take life. Few months in his death, as soon as fog of newly obtained supernatural powers thinned, allowing him to think clearly again, he made a decision to give his all to keep whatever “human” have left in this damned shell of the body. Once he got accustomed with business run by The Circle of the Crone, he found plenty of friends in each and every city morgues and knew without failure when fresh carcasses were delivered to local butcheries. When ritual required freshly drawn blood he used his own vite with no second thought. And now all workarounds are closed, blocked by unmovable boulders. Only one way ahead.

-"We are both dead. It’s not going to get any worse." His whisper is scolding hot against the skin, it reminds to expand lungs, air forced in with fake inhale. Warm palm touches softly, fingers carefully wrap around the hand that holds the hilt, the touch reassures, hand redirected slightly - outward and up.

-"Beheading is better."

For once Sanji is genuinely grateful that Trafalgar never listens and reads his thoughts at any given moment. -"One." He angles cutting edge . -"Two." Skin is burning hot -"Three." Thud. Mortal dread frozen in the eyes of the dead girl.

_________________________

And song that was a catalyst for all the efforts

[thecutestgrotto]

Return to Navigation // WIP & Queue

Aesthetic Divider Sets:

Blue Doodles -> Magenta Doodles -> White Doodles

Geodes

Cute Coquette -> Dark Coquette

Books -> Pink and Purple Books

Royal Academia -> Academia Law -> Softcore Royalty

Legos

Art Supplies

Firefighters

Pink Royalty -> Elegant Royalty

Bubbles

Glitter

Cute Bows

Red Decorative Lines

Rainbow Clouds

Fairytales

Pirates

Celestial Sun and Moons

Pixel Arcade

Black Lace -> Green Lace -> Pink Lace

Music and Radios

Jewel Toned Lines

Black and Purple Witchy Aesthetic

Steampunk

Black Bold Lines -> Blue Version

Rose Gold

Mermaids and Sirens

Cigars and Cigarettes

Fairies

Angels and Demons

Scrolls and Quills

Polka Dots

Hot Pink Dividers

Apocalypse

Media Control Buttons

Smoke and Fire

Science and Research

Romantic Couple Silhouettes -> More Silhouettes

Kawaii Dividers

Golden Elegant Décor

Swirls and Spirals

Cute Crayon Doodles -> Winter Crayon Doodles

Nazar Amulets

Window Scenery

Deep Red and White

50’s Diner

Cruises

Dark Gray Dividers

Circus

Cute Technology

Mafia Aesthetic

Fancy Restaurant

The Roaring 20’s

Fireworks

Classical Theatre

Wizard Core

Opera Aesthetic

Norse Mythology

Vintage Aesthetic

Mid Century Modern

Gloomy Lighthouses

Dark Sirens

Greek Mythology

Pink Decorative Lines

Sea Monsters

Major Arcana Tarot Cards

Makeup and Beauty Products

Hanging Laundry

Coins

Currant Red

Four Leaf Clovers

Miami Aesthetic

Sun and Ice

Cityscapes

Scene Core

Navy Blue and Gold

Cassettes and Vinyls

Highways and Roadwork

Pronoun Friendship Bracelets

[binenbaumaj]

Diamond 18k Tennis Bracelet 15798-8646

Discover the bold elegance of our 18k White Gold Tennis Bracelet. Adorned with 4.00ct black diamonds and 0.84ct white diamonds (H SI1), this vintage bracelet offers a stunning display of brilliance and contrast. A chic addition to your jewelry collection. ⚫️⚪️💎

Details: ±4.00ct black Brilliant-cut diamonds, ±0.84ct white (H SI1) Brilliant-cut diamonds, 18k Bracelet.

Design Era: Vintage.

Dimensions: D 18 x W 0.2 cm.

Weight in grams: 7.7.

Condition: Very good condition - slightly used with small signs of wear.

Shipping and Pickup: This lovely piece ships from our store located in the center of Amsterdam, The Netherlands. We offer both registered shipping and local pickup at our store. In the case of local pickup, any applicable shipping costs will be refunded.

About Us: Add some sparkle to your style with Binenbaum.com. We offer a stunning selection of antique and vintage jewelry that you won't find anywhere else. From timeless rings and dazzling necklaces to unique brooches, we have something for every taste and occasion. Visit our website today and treat yourself to a piece of history.

[errruvande]

Hello! For the drabbles challenge, may I have Elrond (cause I love him so much 🥹) and the word is "necklace"?

Thank you, dear anon for participating in this little challenge 💓

The bright white cristal was shimmering under the hot summer sun of Imladris. Elrond took you with him to the marker to find, what he said, a gift for Arwen, he thought a council of a woman could help him out in picking the best jewelry. You leaned over a long table that was adorned in beautiful jewelries of different kinds: elegant rings with stones, bracelets of gold and silver and oh! A necklace. A necklace of gold, it looked like a ring that circles the neck, with one leaf on each end, from the right side of the ring a small droplet made of nothing else but the white bright gems of Lasgalen was hanging on a tiny twirled string of gold.

“You like this one?” Elrond took the necklace in his hands gently, not to damage the delicate string. You nodded, your pupils blown with amazement. “Can we try it on?” He faced the merchant and after waiting for his nod, he asked you to turn around. “Let me put it on, I want to know how it looks like on the neck.”

You did as you was told, you knew it must be worn to know how it feels and how it looks on a person. So you turned, gathered your loose hair to open the view for Elrond and sighted, already being upset that you'll have to give it back just in a few moments.

Elrond put it on, adjusting the ends with small leaves to make it fit your neck perfectly. The smile adorned his face as he took a step beck, studying you. “It looks perfect.”

“Then Arwen would love it!” You smiled back at him, radiating warmth, since you, as anyone else in Imladris, loved Elrond’s daughter purely.

Elrond chucked softly, not diverting his gaze from your smile. “Actually, my darling Y/N, it's for you”

You froze for a second, not expecting Lord Elrond to give you such a spectacular gift. You knew each other for a small amount of time and yet nothing of his deeds towards you made you think that he was romantically interested.

But is gifting such a beautiful necklace indicating romantic feelings or was it a gift of friendship? Now, you had something to think about.

Send me a word and a character from LOTR/TH, TLK or Vikings and I will try and write a drabble or ficlet ✨

[danika-redgrave124]

Umbra Witch Yuu Ramshackle Dorm Events Part 2

Glorious Masquerade

Masquerade Mask: A beautifully ornate mask in purple and black, adorned with intricate gold filigree and small, sparkling gemstones. The mask covers the upper half of Yuu's face.

Hair: Yuu's hair is styled in an elaborate updo with elegant curls cascading down their back. The hair is adorned with small black and gold hairpins.

A luxurious, floor-length gown made of rich, purple satin and black lace. The fabric shimmers with a subtle sheen, giving the impression of opulence and sophistication.

The gown features a fitted bodice with intricate black lace detailing and gold embroidery. The neckline is an elegant off-the-shoulder design, adorned with small sparkling gemstones.

Skirt: The skirt flows gracefully to the floor, with layers of soft purple satin and black tulle creating a voluminous and elegant silhouette. The outer layer of the skirt is adorned with gold embroidery and small, sparkling gemstones, forming intricate patterns that shimmer as Yuu moves.

Train: A long, flowing train extends from the black of the gown, featuring gold lace detailing, adding an extra touch of grandeur.

Accessories

Gloves: Long, black satin Gloves that reach past the elbows, adorned with gold lace trim.

Shoes: Elegant, high-heeled black satin shoes with purple and gold detailing, completing the sophisticated look.

Jewelry: A gold choker necklace adorned with a large amethyst and delicate gold chains that drape elegantly around Yuu's neck. Matching earrings with purple gemstones and gold accents complete the ensemble.

Bride For A Day

Headpiece: A classic, floor-length white veil made of delicate tulle, adorned with intricate lace trim and tiny pearl accents. The veil cascades elegantly from a silver tiara with sparkling gemstones.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in a sophisticated updo with soft curls and elegant twists. The updo is decorated with small, pearl-studded comes and white floral accents, creating a romantic and timeless look.

A luxurious, floor-length gown made of pristine white satin and lace. The frabic has subtle sheen, reflecting light in a soft, radiant manner.

The gown features a fitted bodice with intricate lace detailing and silver embroidery. The sweetheart neckline is adorned with delicate pearls and lace appliqués, enchancing the romantic feel.

The dress has off-the-shoulder sleeves made of sheer, white lace with a subtle floral pattern. The lace is adorned with tiny pearls and silver thread accents for added elegance.

Skirt: The skirt flows gracefully to the floor, with layers of soft satin and tulle creating an elegant silhouette. The outer layer if the skirt features intricate lace embroidery and delicate pearl accents, forming a stunning, intricate pattern.

Train: A long, flowing train extends from the back of the gown, featuring elaborate detailing and pearl embellishments. The train creates a dramatic and breathtaking effect as Yuu moves.

Accessories

Gloves: Long, white satin gloves that reach past the elbows, adorned with lace trim and small pearl details at the cuffs.

Shoes: Elegant, white satin high-heeled shoes with delicate lace and pearl detailing, completing the look.

Jewelry: A sparkling silver necklace with a large, clear gemstone pendant, and matching earrings with pearl and gemstone accent. A simple elegant bracelet with silver and pearl details complements the ensemble.

Groom For A Day

Top Hat: A classic black top hat with a white satin band and a delicate floral accent. The floral detail features small white roses and a subtle hint of silver.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in a sleek, sophisticated updo. The hair is smooth and polished, with a few elegant curls framing their face, and adorned with a small, white floral hairpin.

Suit

Jacket: A tailored black tuxedo jacket with a white satin lapel. The jacket is adorned with subtle silver embroidery along the edges, adding a touch of elegance. It features a single-breasted design with a peak lapel and a fitted waist.

Vest: A white satin vest with delicate silver embroidery and a subtle sheen, providing a sharp contrast to the black jacket. The vest has a low V-neck and is fastened with silver buttons.

Shirt: A crisp, white dress shirt with a high collar and a subtle texture. The shirt features a hidden placket and is adorned with small silver cufflinks.

Trousers: Black, tailored trousers with a slim fit. The trousers are lined with a white satin stripe down the side, matching the jacket's lapel.

Accessories

Bow Tie: A white satin bow tie with a subtle silver sheen, perfectly complementing the vest and shirt.

Gloves: White, silk gloves thatvreach up to the wrists, adding a classic touch to the ensemble.

Shoes: Polished black patent leather dress shoes with a sleek, elegant design. The shoes feature a subtle silver trim for added sophistication.

Pocket Square: A white satin pocket square with a delicate silver pattern, tucked into the breast pocket of the jacket.

Jewelry: A silver tie clip and matching cufflinks, each adorned with a small, white gemstone for a touch of refinement.

Sam's New Year Sale

Hair Accessories: Yuu's hair is adorned with Kanzashi hairpins featuring floral designs in silver and midnight blue, with small hanging tassels that shimmer subtly. The cool tones of the accessories complement the overall color palette of the kimono.

Hairstyle: Their hair is styled in a sleek, modern updo with elegant twists, accentuated by subtle highlights of silver. This hairstyle exudes sophistication while keeping their hair neatly secured.

Outfit:

Kimono:

Design: A stunning Houmongi Kimono made of luxurious silk in shades of deep teal and silver. The kimono is adorned with intricate patterns of cascading wisteria, moonlit waves, and delicate plum blossoms. The motifs are embroidered in soft silver and cool lavender, creating a serene, ethereal look.

Sleeves: The kimono features long, flowing sleeves with a subtle gradient from deep teal to silver, giving a sense of movement and fluidity. The inner lining of the sleeves is a contrasting shade of cool lavender, adding a touch of elegance when she moves.

Obi: A wide obi belt in soft silver with intricate lavender embroidery depicting graceful cranes and swirling clouds. The obi is tied in a traditional style with an elegant knot at the back, and a small, decorative tassel in midnight blue hangs from the bow.

Undergarments:

Nagajuban: A traditional under-kimono garment in a pale, icy blue with subtle patterns of snowflakes and moonlit ripples, maintaining the cool and serene color scheme.

Footwear:

Zori Sandals: Traditional Zori sandals with a raised wooden sole and thongs in deep midnight blue, accented with silver. The sandals are designed to be both stylish and practical, matching the overall theme of the kimono.

Gloves:

Fingerless Gloves: Delicate, fingerless gloves made of sheer, silver lace with wisteria and plum blossom embroidery in cool lavender tones. The gloves add a touch of refinement while allowing for agility in combat.

Accessories:

Fan: A beautifully crafted folding fan with a design of wisteria and cranes in shades of silver and teal. The fan doubles as both a decorative accessory and a hidden weapon, with sharp edges for close combat.

Obi Accessories: Small, elegant charms dangle from the obi, including silver moon crescents, tiny cranes, and plum blossoms, adding a touch of traditional elegance.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐄𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 & 𝐈𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐲

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Careful on this one, was not feeling nice.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Death Of Child, Death Of Spouse, Grief, Depression, Car Accident.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

Zadkiel carefully observes this woman viewing the settling landscape from the glass window of the human medical wing. Warm colors of the sun turning cold across the city’s rooftop’s for the moon to rise. The back of her still form turning into a black silhouette.

He worry’s the resting sun would be too bright for her to look at, but she sits still upon her chair with wheels. Her eyes never looking away from the sun, never blinking at it. It was like she wasn’t affected by it at all. He would have thought her blind if he couldn’t see how her eyes were not the white of blindness, but… dull. Not glazed with life.

Now he worries about what had happened to this woman. To make her loose such sentience on this Ancient Terra that was way better than future Terra where billions would loose their sanity the moment they step out of a Hive City. Where on this Ancient Terra it was more… free and lasting. Happy, some might say.

Why wasn’t this woman happy? Shining like the brightest star in the universe? He was sure she would look radiant with a bright smile on her face, he can envision it. How her body would glow like gold with a simple smile, or how her laugh would gracefully flow through the strings of time. Little dimples on her cheeks visible against her giggles.

Yet, here she is. Her glowing star long burnt out, exploded into dust and rock. Her smile nothing but a flatline on those soft lips of hers. Distraught by something that he wants to know. That he wants to avenge, to heal.

Such beauty should never look so dull. They should be polished, enriched for a better shine. They should be carefully cared for and cleaned with the softest cloth to be set as the finest jewelry upon the galaxies. Not that she already was; a diamond in creation. Set against the suns glow, but this one in particular had not been cared for in a long while. She had not been cherished.

Oh, how he wants to decorate her body with the finest treasures he can find: rubies, diamonds, gold and silver. She would look absolutely remarkable in them. To have them wrapped around her precious neck as a necklace, or around her petite wrists like a bracelet. Perhaps have them pierced into her skin?

Ah, but he doesn’t want to ruin the natural beauty of her. Not matter how much she is doused in his gifts, her organic beauty could never compare to any loyal material worthy of her skin. She was simply too elegant for a simple diamond to be place onto her skin. For copper to stain her skin green. Something that he makes a quick note to himself of not giving her such a low quality metal.

He then stops himself for a moment, his helmet tilting to the side. Questioning himself now. Since when did he want to know of this woman? To adore her with gifts? To make sure she was properly cared for and thriving once more? As far as he’s concerned he shouldn’t even be here at this human medical wing right now. It was way past the “visiting times,” and he has no reason to be here.

Yet, the simple thought of leaving the side of this woman chips at his heart’s like a chisel. Squeezing so unnecessarily at him for thinking about anything negative on her behalf. Which was just leaving her side and nothing harmful like some others would snide about. Almost humiliating it. Wishing they could cut them down with ease but they never could. Finding a calming solstice in their small and aging humanity.

Zadkiel then realizes this was the work of the Warp testing him. Calling out to him to be here or else he wouldn’t be here in the first place, admiring a hidden jewel behind laminated glass. A “bond” his cousins and brethren had told him about it, in more ways than one. How some were blessed with it or downright cursed, refusing that bond that sounded… very hurtful to do.

He stands there behind the woman now confused on… what to do. Should he accept this bond and cherish the woman like he wants to? Craves to do? Or hurtfully reject it? Leave the woman to continue looking out the glass window with him feeling ever more regrettable the more he walks away?

He heard stories were most tried to reject their bond naturally, only to get very “sick” when too long without them. Forcing them to become bonded if they wanted to be primed back into their original state. Some would actually kill their bonded, but suffer severe consequences after it. Having its price to pay. Not a lot come back from that one, but he doesn’t want to live in fear of a bond. It’s not what he wants. What he wants to do is admire the bond, be attentive to bond. Protect the bond with his life. He wants to adore this woman.

He knows he is younger than his older battle-brother’s, but he wasn’t that young to be a cocky scout. He definitely had his experiences and medals in war to have a will of choosing his own decisions, but this one seemed more… prominent. It was not something he could kill and forget or walk off on, no. It was… more than that. Nothing that he had experience on.

“She won’t move, no matter how long you stare.” He hears the masculine voice of the human approaching behind him. Hearing him a few, beeping floors down before making it to him. The nerves of his spine tickling to move him so he can put the male nurse a little less close to the silent woman, but he doesn’t move. Finding it… indecisive to do so. He wants to move the man away, but at the same time he thinks it’s unreasonable for him to do so. This man was barely a threat to him, nor anyone else around him. An apprentice of a human Apothecary at most.

His head tilts to his other side when he puts more thought into the apprentices’ words rather than pursuing his instincts to throw him out the window for taking another step forward into what he deems the women’s bubble. She… won’t move? Why won’t she move? He doesn’t smell anything on her that tells him she is injured? More like… nothingness.

That alarms him when he realizes he can’t smell anything on her. No natural scent, no family, no spouse, nor children, not even a shift in emotion, nothing. There was nothing on this woman for him to recognize her, and that hurts him in a way. How is he to protect her if he doesn’t recognize her? How is he supposed to keep her safe if he doesn’t know what she smells like? What made her aura and scent feel so… empty? That last thought made him straighten up his form, righting his posture.

“She used to be a mother.” The nurse talks to him in a sudden, smaller voice. Zedkiels’ black helm turning to look down at the apprentice with his red visor that turned to glow once the sun fully went over the city’s rooftops, turning the ending day to the beginning of night.

Zadkiel feels like he should get this start of the conversion from the woman herself. Not wanting to get information that maybe untruthful, but this could be a way for him to start recognizing her. He doesn’t have to recognize her by scent or kin. He can do it the more… classy way. He could learn about her to have a more better feel of the bond. To try and connect with her through her soul.

The apprentice with short, messy, brown hair glances up at him before glancing back at the woman. Unable to handle being under the red hue of his visor staring him down. His hands tucking his clipboard to his chest as Zedkiel gives him a small but questioning head tilt, wanting to learn more on this tragic woman that he has a pull to.

“She… she lost the child however, due to a car crash.” The man continues, tightening his arms around his clipboard. Clearly indicating this was a wide and saddening event that had happened here with this woman. “A son it was going to be.”

Zadkiel gets a hit of anger through his systems at that, shuffling his weight. He knows these… car crashes are quite common in this world; having it world wide count of deaths, but an unborn son involved in it? He believes that is heresy itself! Just where was the father in all of this?! Did he abandon her just because she lost a heir?!

“Her husband couldn’t be found in the process of her recovery.” The apprentice sighs heavily. “Yet, once he was found, it hurt to tell the already grieving patient that he wasn’t alive himself. Either by suicide or murder. I do not know, just started working that day, and everyone was not the same that day.”

The heatwaves of his anger cool off at that information of her… husband being in the afterlife, something that most can’t prevent, but Zedkiel can’t help but be put off by it. How could one lose a mate that wasn’t in the car crash? The mate couldn’t have known in time if he lost had lost his youngling to make a suicide attempt.

“She wasn’t the same.” The apprentice adds, gesturing his head towards the woman making his helmet turn back to her. His reflection bouncing off the dark window just as hers did. Her dull eyes never leaving her own reflection. “Never moved much unless it was necessary or when we gently push her to walk around the halls. Never stoped staring through blank walls and windows. Started eating less and less. Never responded again either; all signs of a Major Depression Disorder.”

Depression Disorder? He had heard of this… disorder before by his Apothecary. The head smaller medic giving a lecture when a few of his younger brethren questioned the older Apothecary about it while he was getting his wings preened. He learned that day, just as his brethren did. That disorder is something that could potentially cause death to a bond if not treated, nor cared for correctly. That’s when some of his bonded brethren butt in with some questions of their own if anything such comes to their bonded. Wanting to know how to treat it and prevent it from happening which the medic agreeably responds with some symptoms and how to treat it. Though, he gives on extra warning to stay close to their bonded, wherever they may go when the disorder had deeply affected the bonded.

Zadkiel instincts overboard him when he suddenly takes a cautious step forward. Not wanting to crack the floor underneath him or scare his bonded away as her eyes make contact with his visor reflection in the window, her awareness sending a surprising shiver down his spine.

She reminds him of a mute swan: a large, white, water bird he seen in a younglings book and at many bodies of water he’s flown across, or even flown with a bevy of them. Squawking at him for taking up their V formation, not afraid to take his own feathers off. Despite their…intent to get him off his own flight path, they were a beautiful creature to see; just like this grief stricken woman.

He take another and another step despite the apprentice telling him he wouldn’t be able to do much, they have already tried, but Zadkiel just won’t except that as an excuse for him not to approach who he has and is being pulled to, his little swan.

The closer that he gets to his swan the more his instincts impatiently urge him on, but he does hesitate a little when her eyes narrow a little on him in the reflection. Making him briefly think he should get closer to her at a slower rate, but his instincts flare up again. Pushing him forward to kneel in front of his swan with a thunk to the ground, cracking the flooring anyways.

His instincts tell him to get a move on and touch his swan already! Coo at her! But he doesn’t. He stays still kneeling in front of her, looking down at her, waiting for her. His Apothecary words running through his mind to keep him absolutely still. He needs to wait on his fragile swan to make a move before he does.

A long, seamless moment pass by with the apprentice threatening to call security in the background for evading a patient’s privacy. Yet he doesn’t move at the wasteful threat, gaining a reward instead when his little swans eyes finally turn away from his reflection in the window and look up at him. Getting the man to shut up about his boring threats of rules.

He waits a few moments longer as the apprentice sucks in air between his teeth, forgetting how to breathe as his swan slowly lifts up her delicate hand up to his helm. Her nails briefly, brushing up the ceramite of his helmet before resting on the cheek of it. Cooling his raging instincts at her touch.

Her hand stays there where he breaks from his own will to coo, purr and very gently nuzzle into her hand. Keeping an eye on her when he does, watching how she seemed to relax at his actions. His heart’s beating at her acception as he vows to never leave her side until the day he is slain.

Let’s get you to fly once more, little swan.

[lis-likes-fics]

Sweet as Sugar

Pairings: Agent Whiskey x Reader Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pining, cunnilingus, blowjob, slight dirty talk, slight praise kink, cowboy rule, swearing (this is basic smut, I think), Whiskey’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit... A/N: I have a writer’s block toward the end of writing this, so what should have only take about a week took, like, a month. Hopefully, I’m back to writing again but I will make no promises bc it’s too gloomy outside for any good serotonin boost to write with. Thank you and enjoy this peace offering bc Pedro Pascal had found a way into my brain!

The mall was bustling with people, men and women coming and going, passing through to look at all the booths and tables showing off all the different organizations to one another as the convention continued on through the day. It was not just any convention, either. Secret services from all over the world, interconnected and soon-to-be, gathered that day to listen and learn and hopefully form closer partnerships to other companies. The entire building was rented out for this function.

Agents continued to pass by the big booth decorated with rhinestones and flowers, which advocated an elegant simplicity to represent the business they ran. Displayed on either side of the booth were two dresses: one a simple, yet fashionable wedding dress with intricate detailing sewed into every stitch, the other, a woman’s business suit with a flower pin carved from what looked like sapphires. Along the table were pieces of jewelry—watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, just samples of what the company had to offer—and pamphlets of what exactly it was the business they were running.

And displayed proudly on the sign over their booth was a symbol, a renaissance style ‘Q’ that twisted and curved in classic cursive.

You sighed as you ran your hands along the sleeves of your blazer, your fingers grazing the cufflink on your wrist that matched the symbol of your agency. You had been standing behind your booth with one of three of your coworkers for about an hour now, waning the daylight in shifts between handling the booth and exploring the convention for food or company that was not the women running your station.

You looked over your watch as you awaited the return of your colleagues so you could switch off again, so you could leave the confines of advertising your business. Your outfit—a delicate gold satin button down that loosely tucked into your perfectly tailored white dress pants, which flowed along your legs and matched with white blazer to create your formal attire suit—was a perfect representation of your agency: distinguished and efficient. Your partner, though she wore silver and blue, stood beside you to match.

You smiled and shifted the clubmaster frames sitting at the edge of your nose as Pearl and Jasper returned, both women sending you nods and smiles as they took your places behind the booth for your switch. “We found the Kings just that way,” Jasper said, pointing in the direction they’d just come from before shifting the cloud of coiled black hair away from her face and securing it in a poofy ponytail. She then slipped her hands back into the pockets of her dark red suit, glancing back at Pearl as she spoke.

“They’ve got a nice booth. We might have some competition,” she quipped, smirking as smoothed her fingers over the thin chain of her necklace.

Opal, your own partner, laughed and shook her head. “Don’t we always have competition with the Kings?” she retorted, playful as she turned to walk with you. You agreed with her joke and headed in the direction Jasper had pointed in.

On the way, a pair of eyes spotted you and you offered a large grin. One of the agencies you partner with were the Amadoda Amafulege, the Flagsmen. They were a company set in Africa who you counted on for certain resources: information, jewels or gemstones, fabrics. They were reliable friends.

You and Opal approached them with wide grins, pointing them in the direction of your own booths to greet Jasper and Pearl. The interaction was short but warm hearted, and you were off again before you could be sidetracked by some other business you happen to work with. You both continued on walking, greeting physical bodies and holographic forms with waves and nods.

The large sign of the Kingsman symbol sat atop a booth as two well-dressed gentlemen with glasses stood behind their booth. One of them spotted the both of you, recognizing the likewise fashion choices as you came closer. Opal grinned, a mix of amusement and adoration in her tone at the company which both allied and competed with your own. “The famed Kingsman.”

The younger one smiled, offering a nod to you both. “Hello,” he greeted. When you finally stood in front of their booth, he reached out and handed each of you a pamphlet. You glanced over it, disinterested in absorbing information you already know. Both agents held their hands out for you. “Agent Galahad. This is Agent Merlin.”

The older man, Merlin, gave a courteous nod, “Pleasure to meet you.”

You nodded, shaking his hand confidently. “Back at you,” you responded. “We didn’t know if you’d be coming.”

Merlin gave a nod, smiling with a slight chuckle at your words. The Kingsman had not shown up to the last convention, business had gotten in the way and they were greatly missed. “We pulled some strings.”

You looked over their table at a few gadgets, some disguised as ties or watches, and then looked over at the two suits they chose to display similarly to your own booth. “Good to have the famous Galahad and Merlin,” you said, “and with a good booth.”

Your tone offered your impressed attitude toward their well-decorated station. Some of the booths here had not offered a lot of effort, simply their symbols on a sign and some pamphlets and gadgets on their tables. Plain. Boring.

“Some of these are severely lacking,” Opal said, practically reading your mind. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the black curls out of her face so she could see as she offered her smile. “You’d think a secret service could put together a decent booth.”

Galahad extended a hand with his suggestion, "You should stop by the Statesman. You'd probably be impressed."

"We'll keep it in mind," you agreed, picking up one of the fancy watches on display. You examined it, the Kingsman symbol hiding under the glass, the gold lining on the band, the knobs and secret accesses embedded inside.

Merlin smiled, "In the meantime, we shall take a stop by yours."

Opal nodded, "Down by the Krispy Kreme. Can't miss it."

Your thumb pressed against the button on the side meant to wind the hour hand. It obeyed, pushing down and revealing a hologram of the Kingsman symbol once more.

"Very nice toy," you commented, pushing the button again to make the symbol retreat.

Merlin hummed, "You haven't found the kill button yet."

You shook your head, still examining the watch. "No, I have. You've got the poison dart here–" you tapped the near-invisible button on the side, "and the tranq dart here," you tapped the button next to it.

They raised their brows at you, impressed. "You've got them too close together, you should separate them a little more," you suggested. "Wouldn't want someone trying to knock an important target out and end up killing them instead."

The agents glanced at each other under Opal's watching gaze and your diverted one as you set the watch back down. Galahad nodded, "Right."

"Opal," you said as you turned to your partner. She hummed and you held your hand out.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled, lifting the lapel of her jacket to reach into a pocket. She handed it to you for you to present to both Kingsman. The box was lengthwise, a thin, golden thing housing a watch made by your agency.

"This is for Galahad—Harry—sent by our boss. She was hoping for us to run into you today. You'll give it?" You said, handing it over to the two.

"Of course," Merlin said, peeking inside of the box with a nod.

The two of you left again to go look at some other booths, or to find food. They sent you off with the directions to the Statesman, waving and wishing you farewell.

As you walked next to Opal, you recounted the booths you'd seen and the ones you hadn't on the way. You motioned toward the restaurant in the distance, smiling at the waft of good food as you got closer to it. You would all have to stop and eat there later today.

Your thoughts came to a halt when you heard someone's voice speaking to you, an unfamiliar voice that had you turning your head at the two figures approaching you.

"Hey there, sugar."

The voice had a Southern twang, smiling and confident as the owner slowed to stand in front of you. "Here we go," Opal mumbled beside you with an amused grin.

He was a handsome man, charming in the right ways. The black hat on his head accompanied his accent and his outfit, a suit that screamed professional cowboy. The mustache above his lip was kept and clean, and he wore it well, along with the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at you with his dark eyes, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip as he smirked. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?"

There was a woman next to him with short dark brown hair mostly shielded by her own western hat, her skin shades lighter as her own glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. She held her hand out, "Hi, I'm Ginger Ale. This is Whiskey."

"Nice to meet you," you greeted her warmly, taking in the sight of her with a look that could only be described as an evaluation.

You turned to Whiskey, raising an amused brow as you held your hand to shake his. He grabbed it gingerly, bending at the waist to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"How do you do?" he winked, holding onto your hand a little longer before letting you go.

Opal chuckled, "He's cute."

He smiled at her, satisfied with her assessment as he grinned at her like some excited pup.

You tilted your head, nodding slowly. "Yeah… In a flirty toddler kind of way." His demeanor did not shift, your words were no dagger to his ego. "Just want to pinch his cheeks and pat his head," you chuckled, half-reaching like you would actually do it.

You might, his skin looked soft and you want to see his hair underneath his hat.

He winked again, licking his bottom lip, "You can do whatever you want, sugar," he quipped.

You chuckled. Cute.

"You think so?" you asked, tilting your head as you pitched your voice a few octaves to sound as sweet as the nickname he kept calling you.

He shifted so he was standing beside you, careful with his arm in case you didn't want to be touched. Thoughtful. He walked a little with you, leaving Opal and Ginger to stand next to one another and watch him guide you a few feet away.

"I know so," he chuckled. "What's your name?" He said "your" in that way only cowboys can say it: that slurred 'u' that made the 'r' slightly bleed into the last word.

You licked your bottom lip, offering a teasing gaze as you looked at him through your lashes. "Why don't you guess it?" You turned to him, setting your hands on his chest and playing with his tie.

He seemed charmed, entranced by your little gestures and looks. "Probably something pretty like that necklace," he smirked, motioning to your chest as his fingers brushed the golden locket around your neck, resting just between your breasts.

You took it in your hands, stroking the sides. "You like my necklace?"

"It's beautiful," he agreed, staring back at you with a gaze that matched the lovestruck puppy vibe he'd given you earlier. "Just like you," he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles once more.

"You wanna take a look inside?"

"I'd be delighted," he breathed, leaning forward just a little as his face huddled closer to you. You offered a tiny giggle as you undid the clasp, slowly opening the locket as you built the suspense of what could possibly be presented inside.

A bright light flashed quickly into Whiskey's eyes, there one second and gone before a full one could pass. Whiskey's hands rushed to his face as he made a slight groan, and he stumbled backward. You reached forward, pressing a hand to his chest, and watched him fall to the ground.

He made little sounds of discomfort, laying on his back as he brought his hands away and blinked rapidly. He stared in no clear direction, looking around blankly for…something.

Opal chuckled from her spot, Ginger stared with a mix of amusement and concern, and you just looked down at him with a smile as he tried to see.

You approached him, bending at the hips and looking down at him with a smile. You brushed some hair out of your face.

"This is my partner, Opal," you gestured toward her, though you knew he could not see. Your necklace had a device within it that temporarily blinded those on the unfortunate end of it—temporarily.

You pressed a hand to your chest, "My name is Diamond," you reached out and picked up his hat, which had fallen off his head. "Agents of the Queensmaiden."

You brushed the fabric of the hat, setting it over his face before straightening your back. You looked at Ginger Ale as you rejoined Opal's side. "Nice to meet you, Ginger."

She smiled and dipped her hat at you once, waving. "You, too. Feel free to stop by the Statesman."

You nodded, looping your arm with your partner's, paying the blind agent no mind as he struggled to his feet. "We were just headed there!" you smiled, amazed at the turn of events as you pointed it out. "We'll stop by later…when he can see again."

You turned with Opal, looking over your shoulder and grinning gently. "Bye, Whiskey," you giggled before taking your leave.

Whiskey reached out hastily, grabbing a hold of Ginger, just to make sure she was still there. The way she could have rolled her eyes and shook her head as a dopey smile spread over his lips. He motioned in the direction he thought you walked out in, sighing dreamily.

"I need her."

This time, Ginger did roll her eyes and shake her head. She took his outstretched hand and started pulling him back to the booth. "Come on, lover boy."

~

You did visit the Statesman’s booth—where you met Scotch and Tequila—but did so while Whiskey was away. You wanted to tease him, make him anticipate your arrival for you not to appear and leave him wanting more.

As the night waned, the booths were taken down to make room for the afterparty that had already begun. You were standing at one of the tall, narrow tables with Opal and Tequila, enjoying the music playing in the background as people mingled through the night.

As you laughed at a sarcastic comment made by Tequila, you heard the familiarly smooth voice of his colleague fill the space between you and couldn’t fight your smile.

“I see you’ve met my associate,” he announced himself, sidling up next to you as he leaned on the table. The look on his face held no defeat or upset, he was just as smiling as before as he took in the sight of you, once again entranced.

You chuckled, looking him up and down as you watched each other. “Oh,” you smiled, “so you can see again…”

He laughed heartily at that, amusement seeping into the sound and painting your stomach with butterflies, a light, airy feeling that bounced off the bones of your ribcage. He clasped his hands together, motioning with his head toward your chest, where your golden locket still lay idly by.

“Very nifty gadget, that necklace of yours,” Whiskey smiled, his eyes never leaving yours for long.

You picked it up, tracing your thumb along it like you had done before in a slight tease. “I’d like to think so. I designed it,” you confessed, setting it back down and looking at him, your head tilted up as you straightened your spine with pride. He tilted his head to the side, his grin deepening at your clear genius.

Tequila and Opal shared a look as they took in the interaction, chuckling lightly. “I’ll go ahead and step away now,” he said, doing just that and glancing back at your partner standing by his side.

She nodded her agreement, holding her hand out to the offered crook of his arm. “And I’ll join you.” She walked away with him, shaking her head and smiling as she left to go hang out with her own new plaything—of sorts.

Whiskey’s eyes looked you up and down as he thought over something for a moment before he simply spoke again. “Can I buy you a drink, sweetness?” he offered, holding his own arm out for you as Tequila had done.

You considered him, raising a brow. “I’m still sweet, huh?”

He flashed his teeth with his next grin, dipping his head down in a nod as a gesture with his hat. “Like sugar,” he hummed.

You sighed. “Okay.” Your arm looped through his own, and he smiled triumphantly as he gently tucked you into his side. You gave him a similar gaze to the one you’d given him before he ended up walking around blindly for an hour: your head tilted down as you looked up at him through your lashes, your smile soft, and your eyes teasing—the perfect demonstration of the less eloquently put “fuck me eyes”. “Lead the way, Whiskey.”

He walked you to the bar that had opened earlier on for the convention. The liquor was all top shelf stuff—they wouldn’t dare give low-quality alcohol to these highly respectable representatives of these agencies. He made sure you were sitting comfortably on your stool before he took his seat next to you—a true gentleman.

A bartender came down to the pair of you and smiled, waiting for your orders. “Scotch, neat,” you nodded, adding a “thank you” on the end as you looked away, anywhere but Whiskey while your eyes examined the many options behind the bartender.

“Actually,” Whiskey held his finger up, “I want you to try something.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes teasingly at what he could be doing now. He turned to the bartender, pulling his hat off and setting it to the side to reveal the neatly kept hair underneath it. “Kentucky Statesman, whiskey,” he nodded.

They nodded back before stepping away to grab the bottle. You looked at him with a smirk as he gazed back at you, self-satisfied before you’d even tried the liquor he’d suggested. The bartender returned with the bottle of the amber liquid, showing off the label to ensure it was the correct one. When Whiskey nodded, they grabbed two glasses from under the bar and set it on the table, pouring the appropriate amount into each one.

You picked up the glass as it was given to you, swishing it around and examining it. You picked up the bottle in your other hand and looked at the label as you brought the lip of the glass to your nose to smell the heady scent of liquor. “Whiskey from Whiskey, huh?” you quipped, still only sampling the scent.

He laughed, sitting back with his glass in his hand, refusing to take a sip until you had. “Give it a taste.”

You smiled suspiciously, bringing the glass to your lips and sniffing it once more before finally tasting it. A sigh escaped you as whiskey lingered on your tongue before burning delightfully down your throat. It was magnificent, like liquid gold.

"Oh my god," you whispered under your breath, closing your eyes and shaking your head.

He smiled proudly, "Good, right?"

You looked at him, composing yourself once more as you straightened your back and too-slowly set your glass back down. You let out a long, calculated breath and just nodded too hard. "It's…It's good, yeah."

He finally drank from his own glass, hiding his chuckle as he beamed. "Go on," he said as he set his glass back down. "Have some more. On the house."

You looked at him, raising a brow. "I thought you were buying me a drink," you pointed out, taking another generous gulp.

He leaned back, motioning widely to the large selection of fine liquor. "Be my guest, get whatever you want."

You inhaled the intoxicating scent of the drink already in hand, your eyelids fluttering for a split second before you just shook your head. "I suppose I'll settle for this," you told him, sipping your drink and setting it down again.

Whiskey grabbed the bottle and refilled your glass. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully and smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He shook his head, "Of course not. Just tryna show you the plus side of a Statesman." He set the bottle down and winked at you.

You scoffed, anything but annoyed. "What, think I'll find you?" you swirled your drink around. "We'll hook up over some good liquor?"

His laugh was nearly explosive as he shook his head, seemingly amused in the deepest degree. "Oh, no," he said. "I intend to do more than simply 'hookin' up' with you."

You hummed your response, examining him for far too long and looking away before his dark gaze could override your self-restraint. You crossed your legs, turning your body to face away from him again.

"So," he breathed, "tell me about the Queensmaiden."

You took in a long breath and blew it out to think, reaching out and grabbing his hat discarded on the table. Feeling the fabric under your fingers, you tilted your head. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged, "Where did it come from?"

"Well," you began, "It was formed some time after Kingsman, 1952, by a man named Bobby Gold." They way you said it, with reverence and sass, Whiskey's lips twitched in a smile. "He's like… in his late eighties now, looking good." You shook your head to get back on track. "He founded the Queensmaiden to be an all-women agency, picked a protégé to take his place and run it after he stepped down."

You turned to him with a boastful smirk, "She's the first Diamond—was the first Diamond, she retired. I knew her, worked with her when I first joined. I got her name, promoted from Quartz."

He nodded, deeply invested in the way you spoke as you played with his hat, made of sturdy, soft fabric. "Fascinatin'," he smiled.

You nodded. "Gold ran a really popular jewelry business of the same name, had a younger sister who ran a tailor shop for women's clothing with her husband. He founded it, she later partnered as co-founder. Now we're a boutique found in most countries…all over the world." You shrugged your shoulder so nonchalantly, like your boast wasn't a real boast. "It's very efficient, dare I say, more efficient than the Kingsman itself."

He snorted, "Don't tell them that."

You leaned forward, too close within his space, "They probably already know." You sidled up closer to him, a clear flirt as you smiled. You raised his hat to him and set it atop your own head.

Whiskey's eyes darkened as he watched you down his nose. "You know…" he said slowly, "there's this rule where I come from… Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

You licked your bottom lip as your eyes flicked up and down his face. "Oh, I'm well aware." His hand reached out and grazed your arm, daring to bring you closer before you pulled away from him again with a sweet smile. "What about Statesman?"

It took a beat for him to recover before he was shaking his head. "Not as glamorous," he sighed thickly. "Agency in the south full of cowboys and rascals."

You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, picking it up again and bringing it to your lips. "Well, I love me a nice cowboy," you said as you looked at him over your cup.

"Lucky for me, huh?"

"We'll see." You took a sip from your glass.

Suddenly, the music which had been in the background shifted into something else. Country music blared through the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the area. Some excitedly stood to go join the small group ready who may have recognized the music, but one look at the jukebox provided by one of the agencies here proved that it was, indeed, a southerner who'd started the music.

Tequila stood there with his hat on his head as he smiled, one hand held out and grasping Opal's hand as he spun her into his chest. He glanced up at Whiskey and nodded once before hopping off to the large space cleared to dance.

He was the one to determine what dance was being done as he twirled Opal around into a half amateur-half professional swing dance. People joined in with their partners and allowed themselves to be swept away into more amateur dancing—a dance Whiskey suddenly seemed confident to prove himself in.

"C'mon, I've never missed a swing," he smiled excitedly.

He took your hand and pulled you to the floor before you could protest. He swung you, making you stumble into his chest as you breathed quickly. "I've never swing danced before," you confessed.

He looked you dead in the eye, his own sparkling with excitement and hints of giddiness. "Just follow me," he breathed, his kissable lips forming the words in a way that made it impossible to deny him this.

You sighed, "You better know what you're doing."

He smirked, this one more sly than the last. "Trust me, sugar," he leaned in. "I know what I'm doin'."

You tilted your head, standing up a little more and placing your hands in his. Once you were situated, you smiled and let out a breath of courage. "Well," you whispered, "show me how a real cowboy does it."

Whiskey beamed before he pulled you into the music, quick steps and swinging arm making it impossible to keep up. He twirled you out, he twirled you back in, he switched you to one side and swung you to the other. He spun you under his arm and into his chest. Just when you thought he might slow down, he dipped and held you in his arms with heavy breaths.

He caught the hat as it fell from your head, lingering there and staring at your lips. You stared into the depths of his gaze, catching your breath as they mingled between you in soft puffs of air. He slowly straightened his spine, standing you up and setting the hat atop your head once more, admiring its place there.

You smiled, leaning forward oh-so slowly. His eyes fluttered until they were closed. He looked so calm, so gentle and pretty. You pulled his hat from your head and put it back on him, lingering there a moment before pulling out of his arms and missing his warmth.

He felt you leave and refused to watch you leave him behind. When he opened his eyes again, you were gone. When he turned his head to a mystified Tequila, Opal was gone.

A breath poured from his lips as he couldn't help but smile. He smiled at your charm, at the way you left him starstruck, at the way he'd slipped his number in your pocket in the hopes you called him, finding him again and leaving him with a little more closure as he looked down at his boots and shook his head.

"Fuck me," he cursed, chuckling to himself.

~

That was the last he saw of you for months, the last you saw of him for months.

You hated how much you thought about him—his puppy-like flirtations, his darkened gaze, his fascination, and the way he moved you like a tornado on the dance floor. You stared at the crumpled up piece of paper with his number scrawled on it all the time, considering, thinking, wanting to call.

But you never did. Never once did you pick up the phone and dial his number. Never once did you talk about him to your colleagues or your partners—not even with Opal, who was totally smitten with her own cowboy.

You missed him, but you were determined not to.

But that didn't mean a crossing of paths would hinder a good reunion.

You smiled at the receptionist at the front desk, who granted you a smile of his own with the tilt of his head. Walking up to the desk, you adjusted the purse on your arm and spoke. “Hello, I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Sullivan. I’m his three o’clock.”

He hummed, “I wasn’t aware Mr. Sullivan was taking appointments today. Name?” he asked, turning to his computer.

“Davis. We made an appointment together over the phone,” you stated in a sickly sweet voice. “Oh, I hope I marked the right day.”

He looked at you and just smiled, shaking his head. “No worries. I don’t see you in the database, but I’ll just give him a quick call to confirm. Alright?”

You nodded, thanking him kindly as you wiped your hands down your light suit. He picked up the phone and dialed the number to his boss’ office, giving you another large grin. When the phone was picked up, he began to explain the situation, and his reaction was full of wide eyes and stutters. “Yes, sir,” he answered, setting the phone back down.

He looked back at you regretfully. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Sullivan will not be taking any appointments today. You are welcome to reschedule, if you’d like.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Great.” He reached down under the desk to grab some papers before wincing. “I’ll have to go make some copies. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Not a problem.”

He disappeared behind a door behind the desk and you sighed, turning anyway to go up to the elevator on your right. As you were walking, you noticed a group of men walking down the hall, dressed in black with shades over their eyes. Security guards. You straightened your spine and merely kept walking. You were just at the elevator when you heard shots firing behind you. You groaned loudly and ducked for cover. Their gunfire was loud and thunderous, making couch stuffing and wood splinters fly through the air as you hid behind a desk behind a sofa in the cushy lobby.

You cursed under your breath as you dug through your purse. “No, no, no,” you mumbled as you selected which weapon you would use. You dug out a little silver disc and smiled. “Yes,” you declared as you pulled a little pin out of the side.

You threw it behind you where the guards were still shooting, and ducked down, waiting for a blow that never came as the gunshots continued. “Talc!” you yelled, shaking your head at the newbie in the weapons department and one of her faulty weapons making its way into your arsenal.

You huffed as you looked behind you before you suddenly heard a body drop. You looked over and your eyes widened in shock and surprise. Hiding behind a couch a little farther away from your own was a person who definitely was not on their side. He locked eyes with you, and your expressions became mirrors of the other.

“Diamond?” “Whiskey?”

The simultaneous ringing of your names only escalated the confusion as you stared at one another. “What are you doing here?” he questioned in as low a whisper he could manage to ensure you still heard him, holding a sleek, golden gun tight in his grip as he paid no mind to the small cavalry currently shooting at you.

“I’m on a fucking mission. What are you doing here?” you countered.

He shrugged, “On a fuckin’ mission.”

Shit. “Shit,” you huffed. You thought for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “What’s your objective?”

Whiskey pressed his gun to his temple, tilting it up as a gesture of his assassination attempt. You let out a breath of relief, pulling a drive with the Queensmaiden symbol on the side from out of your bra and showing it off to him. He sighed as well.

“Cover me?” you asked.

He smiled and nodded, sending you a flirty wink. “You got it, sugar.”

You grinned and counted down for him before ducking out of your cover and rushing to the elevator closest to you. Whiskey stood, grasping his gun as he shot. You pressed the elevator door button and glanced over your shoulder, gripping your gun tight as you waited impatiently for the elevator to open.

When you heard the ding, you had half a second to celebrate as a loud shot came too close to you. You looked down at the elevator button, flashing and sparking as it sat destroyed in the wall.

You pried the door open and shouted Whiskey's name over your shoulder as he retreated back. You got inside, jamming the button closed without missing a beat or waiting for him to get through.

The doors were already closing when he finally slipped through, a bullet missing him by an inch. In the safety of the elevator, you let out a breath and calmed.

There was silence, besides the breaths blowing through the space of the elevator. Whiskey looked at you as you raised your hand, looking at the clock face of your watch.

"You never called," he accused, looking at you with a raised brow and a look on his face that wasn't mad, but not entirely giddy with joy.

You shrugged, still not looking at him. "Been busy."

He chuckled, "With what?"

You missed his voice, that smooth Southern lilt that could lull you to gentle sleep or drive you insane with desire. With the adrenaline pumping through your veins, it was the latter.

"My job," you laughed, pressing a button on your watch as a hologram arose from it, circling the Queensmaiden symbol.

You turned to him, granting him a smile. You were more happy to see him than you should have been. "Did you miss me, lover boy?" you winked. "Tequila says you did."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've been talking with Tequila?"

You smirked, nodding. "Of course," you told him, swiping the hologram aside to pull up some files off of some computer. "He's with Opal. They hooked up after the convention."

He sighed longingly, leaning on one leg as he set his gun back in his holster. "And to think," he breathed. "That coulda been us."

You snorted, "Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy."

You tapped away from the files you'd been scrolling through, pulling up some surveillance footage. There was a hall through the camera, one full of guards with more numbers than the ones downstairs.

"Aww," you muttered. "We have a whole welcome party waiting for us." You turned him with a grin, swiping away the hologram and returning your hand to your side.

He reached behind his back as he smiled. "How sweet."

Whipping his jacket to the side, he grabbed some sort of fancy handle, intricately detailed with gold and silver. You nodded, impressed as you looked at its design.

"Nice," you commented. You opened your jacket, sliding it off your arms and reaching behind you to grab a hold of a handle of your own. It was blue, a shining color that sparkled as Whiskey's eyes scanned over it.

The elevator dinged and you stood beside Whiskey with a smile. The sea of guards on the other side watched you with stern faces, ready for the inevitable fight as they stared down two people who didn't stand a chance.

"Well, howdy, fellas," Whiskey greeted, tipping his hat.

You tilted your head and smiled, "How do you do?" You pressed a small button on one end and the handle began to unfold, expanding into a dagger on one end of a strong rope and a heavy hammer-like weapon on the other.

At the sight of the weapon, the fight began. With drawn guns and angry glares, the guards were quick with their guns as they cornered you in the elevator.

The handle in Whiskey's hand extended into a lasso—a silver whip that he swung out into the small army. It wrapped around the gun of the man in the front of the group, holding on tight as he pulled it taut and sent him falling forward.

You took your rope dart and began swinging it, smacking a bullet out of the way as it hurdled toward you. You threw it and Whiskey watched, amazed, as it wrapped around some man's neck and the dagger embedded itself into his chest. You pulled it, and he spun around to the floor.

The other guards were distracted long enough for the both of you to retreat from the elevator and into the fight.

Ropes flew through the air, daggers pierced bodies, and electricity had them writhing in pain before dropping to the floor. Whiskey's rope wrapped around someone's neck as he pulled him in, punching him hard in the face and sending him to the floor.

He heard a pained yell behind him and turned to see some man falling to the floor with a blue knife in his back. You stepped forward, setting your foot on his back and pulling the dart out.

"That's cool," he said, admiring your weapon of choice.

You smiled, pulling a gun and shooting someone coming toward Whiskey from behind. "Thank you. It's made of sapphires."

"Oo," he smiled. "Duck." You did so, dipping down as he raised his own gun and shot another man aiming his gun at you.

He looked down at you, knelt on one knee in front of him, tightly gripping your rope tight. "What an interestin' position we've found ourselves in."

You scoffed, standing up too close to him. "Keep it in your pants, hotshot."

You turned on your heel, returning to the fight as the few guards who were left brandished their guns. The last of them were easy to take out, and you did. As you swung your rope at the last man standing you noticed a different rope do the same.

You turned your head to Whiskey as he smiled at you. "Looks like we made a connection."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up." You grabbed your gun and raised it to the man, shooting him instantly and collecting your rope as he dropped to the floor.

You walked over to the body, bending down and wiping the blood from your blade before stepping over him and toward the grand office door down the hall. Whiskey was more than happy to follow you.

You take a card you'd snatched from one of the bodies and swipe it along the reader, the door sliding open to allow you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you heard the sound of a gun click.

You both looked up at Mr. Sullivan pointing his gun at you, dressed in an expensive suit with hands that trembled only slightly with fear for his life. You sighed, looking back at him. "Well, you caught us," you said as you stood beside Whiskey. "Props."

"Question is…" Whiskey added, "who're you gonna shoot?"

Sullivan tilted his head. There was no amusement in his face, but he gave you a look that said "really?". He motioned between the two of you and raised a brow. "You've got some rope. I've got a gun. I can shoot both of you."

Whiskey nodded, agreeing with his logic. "Well, you caught us fair and square," he sighed dramatically. Then he smirked, "Pull the trigger."

Sullivan didn't like how calm you both were. He was holding a gun to your face, and you were telling him to pull the trigger. Why the fuck would you tell him to pull the trigger if he had the upper hand? Were you suicidal?

"There's just one little thing," you spoke, shifting on your side. "You brought a gun to a knife fight."

Sullivan missed the way you passed your rope dart to Whiskey, who took it with too much excitement and, with a few mighty swings, threw it at the unsuspecting boss. The rope wrapped around his neck, and he dropped his gun to grab it and force it away to no avail. The dagger came back around after its loops, and he had no time to process as it lodged in his chest.

Whiskey smirked before he pulled roughly on the rope, spinning the man round, unwinding him like a yo-yo. The dagger yanked from his chest and Whiskey caught it as it flung back. Mr. Sullivan dropped to the floor, choking on his own blood as it spilled from his wound.

You walked past him dismissively, stepping up to his desk and grabbing your drive. Sticking it in the computer, you began typing away as Whiskey admired your weapon.

"I needa get me one of these," he muttered.

"I've got plenty. I'll send you one," you suggested.

He looked up at you, his eyes glittering, "Really?"

"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders. Leaned over the desk, you watched the loading bar slowly climb toward completion before you were able to withdraw the drive and stuff it in your pocket.

You grabbed a butterscotch from the bowl on his desk, helping yourself as you walked back over to Whiskey. You smiled at him and tilted your head. You hold your hand out to him, making a grabby motion.

"Can I have it back?" you asked.

He tilted his head up, smiling down at you with narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" you questioned.

"Can I get something in return?"

You sighed and thought for a moment, continuing to smile at him as you returned your hand to your hip. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, pretending to think. "How about a pretty please?" he smirked, his eyes dark and inviting, his voice quiet and deep.

"You want me to say please?" you asked, standing too close as your eyes flickered to his lips for half a second.

Again, he shrugged, but his smile became more wicked. "A kiss on the cheek might suffice."

You chuckled deeply, standing on your toes as you leaned forward. You got closer, closer, and closer still until your breaths mingled. You shifted to his cheek, turning your head just enough so your lips nearly brushed his ear as you whispered to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

You took the rope from his grip and backed away from him, watching him watch you with lidded eyes. You backed toward a private elevator in the office, pressing a button on the wall as the doors opened. You looked toward the door you came in and smiled. "You've got company."

You stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed, shielding you from him as you waved.

Whiskey stood in the office, looking toward the door that was currently being beaten against by his visitors. Smiling and shaking his head, he laughed heartily. "Clever."

You stepped out onto the roof, taking the drive from your pocket and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your gun and shot at it once, destroying it entirely as you made your way to the jet waiting for you. You boarded it, climbing into the pilot's seat as you started it up and left.

As you flew away from the building, you glanced back at it and smiled when you saw a figure climbing up the side of the building to the roof. He looked over his shoulder at you, and you could make out the distinct sight of him waving his arm at you. Not to grab your attention, but to say hello.

You saluted him before departing for a second time.

~

Your next encounter with him was not so far in the future. In fact, it was later on that night.

You walked into the large house you were staying in after a long day out. Between your mission, your flights, and everything in between, you were about ready to pour yourself a drink and go to sleep early.

The house was owned by the Queensmaiden, a mission house for meetings or get-togethers or just a place for agents to crash after long days on missions. Since your trip today was done alone, your partner back at home serving as your tech that day, you were in this big empty home alone. You didn't mind much, it was a lot of space, you could turn on the stereo as loud as you want, there was plenty of expensive booze. You were all set for the night.

As you walked through the loud house, which was filled with the classic voice of Frank Sinatra, you made your way to the open bar. As you poured yourself a drink, you glanced at the label with a smile. Statesman whiskey.

"So you did like it."

You didn't turn around, but you smiled at the smooth tone of your cowboy behind you. You grabbed a second glass and poured him his own. You set the bottle down, picked up both cups, and walked over to him with a smile.

"It's alright."

You stopped in front of him, making a bad habit of standing too close. Passing the glass over, you looked up at him through your lashes. He wasn't wearing his hat, giving you a view of his tousled hair. Likewise, he was stripped down to a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, his shirt still tucked in his pants fastened with his belt. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of the shirt were undone. He saluted his glass to you, and you gladly clinked them together in a quiet cheer before taking a sip, your eyes never parting from his.

"You know," he sighed. "This disappearing act of yours is starting to get a little old, Diamond."

You shrugged a shoulder, "I can spice it up if you want."

He simply shook his head, "I think I'd rather pick a different act. It would put us in much different positions."

"Oh?" You smiled, reluctantly turning on your heel and stepping away from him. "What positions did you have in mind?"

You lounged on the couch, kicking off your shoes. You looked back at him with one hand on your glass and the other under your chin as you rested your head on the back of the couch.

He sighed once again, his whole body moving with him as he looked at you in that way that reminded you of a lovesick pup. He set his hands on his hips, leaning on the side as he contemplated.

"You never called."

His words from earlier pricked your heart in a special kind of way this time. You sighed and just shook your head, "No, I didn't."

The song playing through the speakers in the house faded out to welcome another. Sinatra's "I'm a Fool to Want You" was sharp in your mind.

You set your glass down and looked up at Whiskey again. You reached your hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in the hope that he'll hold your hand.

He did, and you smiled.

"I did miss you," you confessed.

That offered him some solace. "Honest?"

"Honest." He sighed, stepping closer. You sat up, settling on your knees as he still towered over you. He looked at you for a long time before suddenly smiling. He bent down, wrapping his arms around your body and surprising you as he hoisted you up, spinning you over the couch and setting you on your feet. You held onto him, laughing as he pulled you close to his chest. He slid his hand into your own, entwining your fingers as his other hand rested on the small of your back.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

You tilted your head, "Do I have a choice?"

He laughed and just shook his head. "No."

You laughed. He took a side step, swaying you in time with the gentle rock of the music. It was slow and steady, filled with too much emotion than should have been allowed for a couple who had only met once a few months prior. You rested your head on his chest, your eyes closed as you blew out a long breath.

His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, low and quiet. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?" he smiled.

You chuckled, recalling those words from when you first met. "Am I still allowed to do whatever I want?" you asked, looking up at him.

He spun you out, twirling you before spinning you back in, your back pressing against his chest. He leaned down to your ear. "Never revoked the privilege."

You twisted your neck to see him, smiling at his face so close to yours. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his own as you considered it. For a moment, you considered it.

You swerved to hover your lips near his ear, "Catch me."

You stepped away from him, walking backwards as your eyes stayed glued to his. You watched him with the same dark, teasing eyes as you had used before. The naughty look on your face, the proximity at which you once stood, the tingling of your lips never grazing his but teasing him with the possibility of such a sacred union…the thought of never sealing that fate with you and leaving once again for another wild goose chase where he never knew if he would see you again due to the dangers of the lives you both lived. They were possibilities that made his heart ache in ways it shouldn't have.

He just shook his head, deciding then and there that he wouldn't let you have another swift get away, wouldn't let you slip through his fingers with nothing to remember you by but the ghost breaths against the shell of his ear where you exhaled your secrets. "Not this time."

He took a few long strides toward you, taking you in his arms and crashing his lips down upon yours. You gasped into his mouth, melting instantly into him as your legs turned to jelly. He held you close to him, supporting your neck with one large hand as he consumed you in a passionate embrace.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and swaying gently as you finally kissed the cowboy you'd been craving for months. He bent down, wrapping his arms under you and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He held you up with strong arms, walking you back until he was pushing you up against a wall.

When he pulled from the kiss, heavy, hot breaths were exchanged between the two of you. His hands roamed your body, drinking you in desperately. His mouth pressed against your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along your thumping pulse. You moaned, feeling the heat between your legs igniting with a fire.

His name fell from your lips as he nibbled on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled on his messy strands.

He rolled his hips into yours, pulling a shaky breath out of you. Your leg tightened around him, bringing him closer as you mirrored his own movement from before, drawing out your pleasure with grinding hips and breathless sighs. He groaned as one of his hands gripped your waist to stop you.

Whiskey unwrapped your legs from him as he set you back down on your feet. When he sank to his knees, it was with a maddening amount of eye contact that he didn’t dare break. His hands smoothed along your sides, rounding to the front to undo the clasp of your slacks. He moved torturously slow as he pulled the slacks down your legs, revealing more and more skin to him as he went along. Your eyes fluttered when you felt his lips on your thigh.

You stepped out of the pant legs when they finally pooled around your ankle. Whiskey leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin before taking it between his teeth in a gentle nibble. You stifled a moan at the feeling, watching his dark eyes drink you in.

When he finally fingered the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down in one swift tug to reveal yourself to him. He licked his lips and you bit down on your own. “Look at that,” he praised. “So pretty.” He looked up at you with a cocky smirk, holding the back of your leg up and setting it atop his shoulder.

He leaned forward and your lips parted so delicately when his tongue darted out to lick you. Your breath hitched, halting in your throat as his hot tongue delved between your folds. Like a fire, the warmth spread through your body as you melted into him. Your hips jerked, seeking his mouth.

His lips wrapped around your pussy, tasting you with an intoxicated moan. When he sucked on your clit, your breath trembled and a whimper managed to weave its way through your vocal chords. His talented tongue glided through your folds before retreating as he pulled back from you to look at your pretty face.

You looked down, whining lightly at him as he stared at you with eyes that glittered with praise. His hand trickled up your side before dipping between your thighs and into your warmth. “You taste sweet as sugar, sugar.”

You had to fight through your eye roll as you enjoyed the sweet stretch of his thick fingers inside of you. “You have very skilled hands,” you nearly stuttered. Your eyes fluttered as he curled the length of his fingers.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he dipped his head as though he was still wearing his hat. He pushed his fingers in deeper, adding a third as he coaxed you toward a sweeter release. He was a lot gentler than you expected, treating you like a fragile lover. It warmed your heart, so used to the less patient lovers of one-night stands long since.

The sharp dig of dull nails into the flesh of your thigh contrasted with the prior feathery fingertips on your sides. You were breathless and needy, aching for him all over. With those same fingers still buried deep inside of you, he leaned forward and sucked on your throbbing clit.

The shocks of pleasure creeping up on you sparked along your skin—your fingertips, the very ends of prickly flesh. Your fingers gripped and tangled in his hair. Your hips stuttered forward, searching for his mouth in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge.

But he was doing it first, crooking his fingers in the perfect way here and digging the tip of his tongue into that sensitive bundle of nerves there as your pitch climbed higher and higher with the anticipation of a climbing buildup. The rubber band inside your belly snapped and your mouth dropped. What were supposed to be rises of whiny moans were just a symphony of shuddering breaths, arrhythmic and impassioned.

He was right there to ease you through the shocks, encouraging you with his tongue back down to the tingles that covered the expanse of exposed skin.

When he pulled away, his lips were still occupied with your body, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and lower belly with a fervor that made you tug harder on his curling locks of hair.

He looked up at you with kiss-swollen lips, smiling like an idiot in love—no, not love. This was just lust. That's all. That was it. It didn't matter if that spark in your chest only pumped through your veins when he looked at you like that.

You smiled at him, breathless. "Take me to bed."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

He tightened his grip around your waist before he stood, tossing you over his shoulder and holding you with one arm. You yelped, dissolving into giggles as he carried you through the house and through the winding halls toward the bedroom.

On the way, you smiled as you passed by his hat sitting on a table along the walls. Reaching you, you had just barely grabbed it with your fingertips as you held it to your head.

He pushed the door open to reveal the room: a king-sized bed with golden sheets, a mini chandelier reflecting diamonds all over the expensive room, paintings and frames and shelves probably hiding more tools and gadgets than there are choices of liquor behind the bar in the main room.

He kicked the door closed behind him, admiring the room with a hum and a nod of his head before plopping you down onto the bed. You fell with a bounce, chuckling again as you held onto his hat. He smiled, watching you put it on your head and look at him with eyes that expressed far too much to be an innocent one-night stand.

Part of Whiskey hoped it was more than an innocent one-night stand.

So did you.

But if it was, he would rock your world. He stared down at you with darkened eyes, undoing his shirt and tossing it somewhere in the room. The rest of his clothes followed after until he was in nothing but his boxers. Then he did the same to you, except he didn't stop until you were bare before him, left in nothing but your expensive necklace and earrings to admire the way you still looked like the perfect reflection of the woman of his dreams. He left the hat. You looked perfect in it.

"Not fair," you complained with a grin. "I'm stripped bare, and you're still dressed."

You leaned up on your elbows, sitting up until you were situated on your knees as you leaned forward. You smiled up at him, hooking your finger in the band of his boxers to pull him forward. "Your turn."

He set his hand on your cheeks and nearly melted at the way you leaned into his warm palm, your eyes fluttering shut as a gentle breath blew through you. He shifted his hand so he pinched your chin, lifting your face to see better. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, sweetness."

"Oh, yeah?" you chuckled. "Prove it to me."

He leaned forward, bending down to your face and connecting your lips again. He licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of whiskey on your tongue. You moaned, melting against him. You pulled away, your hand still hooked around his waistband. You tugged them down, ridding him of the meaningless article of clothing to reveal him to you.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Flushed tipped, thick, and throbbing. As you reached out and stroked your fist over his cock, he twitched in your hand and groaned. You bit your lip, leaning forward and giggling when his hat on your head bumped into his stomach.

He chuckled at you, tilting it up so he could see your face and you could move. You smiled at him before going back to his leaking slit. You leaned forward and licked him, flattening your tongue along his head to taste him. You moaned again, leaning forward to take a longer lick along the length of him. He breathed a curse under his breath, watching you lick him up as you worked your tongue along him.

His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, easing you forward without actually moving you. Your lips wrapped around him, slick and warm as you took him in your mouth. His head tilted back before he looked down again to see you, not wanting to miss a second of it.

"Fuck," he breathed, hips twitching. You smiled around him, working him deeper in your throat with the intent of taking the whole of him. "Fuck, you're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"

You whimpered, laving your tongue along the underside of his cock where the vein was throbbing. "You like that?" he asked. "You like when I tell you how fuckin' perfect you are?"

You nodded as best you could, wrapping a hand on the back of his thigh to pull him in some more. "You're so goddamn perfect," he promised. "Makin' me feel special like this. D'you feel special?"

You just moaned your response, suckling around him and pulling a rough moan from him. After a moment, he pulled you away, setting his hands on either side of your neck as he caught his breath. He looked down at you, smiling and pulling you forward to kiss you again. The way he kissed you this time was so much different than before, so much softer, slower, with more meaning behind it than there ever should have been. Fuck, you were drunk on it, craving his lips more and more with an impossible desperation, even while he was still kissing you.

He eased forward, moving you until you were laying on your back. His lips slipped on and off of yours, down to your neck as he buried his face there and suckled on the skin.

He settled himself between your legs, grinding down on you as you moaned into each other's mouths. You grasped his bicep, squeezing it tight as you stopped him. "Wait," you breathed.

He stopped immediately, looking down at you with a face etched in concern. "What? What's wrong?"

You smiled, "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy." Your hands flattened on his chest and you pushed him back with a huff, flipping him around so he lay on his back as you straddled him.

He smiled at you, setting his hands on your hips. "You scared me for a second there," he said, his thumbs stroking circles along your skin.

You hovered over him with shaky thighs. "Scared you weren't gonna get your cock wet tonight?" you chuckled.

He just shook his head, "Scared I hurt you."

Your breaths filled the rooms as your body slowed to a stop, staring at him. Your heart leapt and you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to succumb to its calling to him.

"You could never hurt me, Whiskey," you promised.

You only allowed him a moment to let it sink in before you were grabbing his cock in your warm palm, stroking him a couple times before guiding him to your soaked pussy. Sinking down on him, both your eyes shut as your breaths puffed into the air.

"Fuck," you moaned. You braced yourself on his shoulders, helping them guide you as you slowly rolled your hips atop his. His hands gripped your waist, blunt nails digging into skin and creating little crescent dents.

The sensations were amazing. His cock stroked along your velvet walls and sparked a desperate pleasure within you that had you forgetting about the little tingles of pain at adjusting to his length. You brought him deeper, your bodies connected indefinitely as you began your slow movements.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the blossom of pleasure deep within you. You leaned back, placing a hand on the hat to keep it there as you rolled your hips, faster and faster, chasing the euphoria you craved.

"Look at you," he groaned. "Fuckin' ridin' me like a true cowgirl."

"Lucky for you, huh?" you smirked, breaking off into a whimper as the blunt head of his cock brushed against a sweet spot inside you.

He nodded, "Lucky for me."

You rode him, and you rode him hard, ignoring the ache in your hips and your legs from the continuous motion, ignoring the breathlessness shocking your throat at all the air you were taking in, ignoring the pounding in your chest at the way he stared at you: lips kiss-swollen, eyes sparkling, hands gripping. It was so much, too much, you craved this man more than you'd ever craved anything before in your life.

"Whiskey," you moaned, stifled moans tearing from your throat as his name spilled from your lips. "Fuck, Whiskey, you feel so good."

He hummed. "Take what you need from me, sugar. Take what you want." You leaned forward, holding yourself up with your hands on his shoulders. You were desperate, fucking yourself on him like it was your last time. When his thumb brushed your clit, a guttural moan ripped at your throat and your hips jerked. "That's it, sweetness. That's it."

He was just as breathless as you, guiding your hips with one hand and circling your clit with the other. "Shit," you sighed. "More. Fuck, Whiskey, I'm almost there."

"C'mon, sugar," he urged you. "Cum for me, Diamond."

You didn't care to hold back, you couldn't. You came with a shout, dropping forward onto him and burying your face in his neck. You moaned into his neck, pitchy and breathless as you came apart on top of him. Your hand tangled in his hair, he held tightly to your hips.

Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing and spasming and bringing him to the edge as his release tumbled after yours. One of his hands flew to your hair, holding you there as his fingers carded through.

Your hips canted a couple more times, milking the last ounces of pleasure you could get before you fell against his chest. He held you as you both slowly floated down from your highs, falling into the other's embrace as you came to.

The stillness that followed was like something out of a dream. The air was heavy with the smell of sex, but light with the breaths blowing from the both of you. Every inch of your body tingled, your fingertips felt like pop rocks, your skin prickled with a mix of warm and cold. Whiskey's heartbeat resounded through you, grounding you as you traced your fingers over his chest.

You could feel his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing gently into the back of your neck and making you feel like putty. You could stay like this forever, resting atop him and feeling the life he breathed into you from his chest.

"Jack."

You took in a small breath, leaning up and shifting yourself so he slipped out of you. You sighed a little before looking up at him with a lovesick grin. "Hmm?"

He looked at you, smiling right back as he chuckled lightly. "My real name is Jack."

You smiled and shook your head, burying your face in his chest as you chuckled. "Jack Daniels?" you joked, recalling the name brand Whiskey.

The way he chuckled made you look up at him. "Yes, actually."

You looked at him, smiling so wide your face hurt. "Seriously? Your name is Jack Daniels?"

He nodded, "Yep."

You shook your head, laying your head back on his chest and reaching clumsily over to grab his hat, which had fallen off your head. You set it over your face, shielding you from the light shining from the chandelier.

You sighed slowly, tracing patterns into his skin. You whispered your own name to him, glancing up at him and then back out to the little lion figurine on the small stand against the wall on the other side of the room. It was bronze, standing proudly with one paw perched up and his mouth dropped in a mighty roar.

Whiskey smiled, stroking his hand down your back and then back up to your hair. "You've got a beautiful name, sugar."

You smiled slowly. "Sweet as sugar?"

He nodded, "Sweeter."

You leaned up, your face inches apart. "You're gonna get a cavity if you have any more of me," you kissed his lips, long and slow and wanting more.

"The sacrifices we make…" he replied, chuckling deep in his chest as he kissed you again.

Pedro Pascal taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

[pastelwitchling]

If you’re taking prompts; Isobel takes Alex as a plus one to some event as Kyle can’t come.

***

“How do I look?” Isobel asked for the tenth time that night, fixing her already perfect hair and patting down her already perfect silver dress.

Alex smiled and brought her hand up to his lips for a delicate kiss. “Perfect,” he said. “Now would you please stop panicking?"

“Panicking?” she scoffed, looking around at the gallery filled with her wealthy guests. “Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking. Why would I be panicking? Just because Kyle’s hospital donations all rely on me and my gala?”

Alex grinned. “Is that how Kyle put it?”

She tried to glare, but the thought of her fiancé softened her usually tough edges and her expression ended up more of a pout. “No. Kyle said he didn’t need me to put on a gala at all, that the annual Roswell’s-Doctors’-Bake-Sale usually pulled in more than enough funding.”

“But . . .” Alex prompted.

Her glare actually did sharpen this time. “But I’ve seen the way those rich housewives try to bid for my man like he’s the one on sale, and if I have to hold an elegant party to save him from their poorly-manicured claws, I’ll do it.”

“Woof,” Michael smirked from where he leaned against the table nearby, a flute of champagne in hand and completely at odds with his wild curls. “The world of fancy dresses and bubbles is more brutal than we thought, babe. Aren’t you glad I’m here?”

“Remind me why again?” Isobel hissed. “I gave Alex the invite.”

“I go where he goes,” Michael said simply. “And he wouldn’t have had to be here if your future husband hadn’t faked a fever.”

“He didn’t fake anything,” she snapped. “For your information, he’s barely been able to keep anything down the last two days!”

“Even more pathetic, if you ask me,” Michael grumbled. “What kind of doctor gets sick?”

“You’re such a – couldn’t you at least have worn a suit? Alex wore a suit.”

Alex had indeed worn a suit. He’d been surprised he still had it; a black jacket and pants with a white undershirt that he’d kept from his military days for their own occasional gala. Except this time, of course, he wore a gold chain necklace from his mother with an aquamarine stone in the center, his gold wedding ring, one piercing in his ear, string bracelets with engraved silver charms that Michael had made him, and his hair was tousled because this time, Alex wasn’t forcing it down with his buddy’s hair gel and it didn’t know how to settle otherwise.

Michael shrugged. He wore his classic jeans and flannel shirt, open halfway down his chest and revealing his chest hair. “Alex likes my clothes.”

“Alex likes the half-naked body underneath,” Isobel retorted with a curled lip. “Ew, gross, now I’m imagining you naked.”

“You’re welcome,” Michael smirked, and Alex held up his hands, standing between them.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s okay, guys, we’ve got a long night with each other, so let’s just . . .” he narrowed his eyes at Isobel. “Somehow, I thought Kyle not being here meant I wouldn’t have to break up any fights.”

“He’s rubbing off on her,” Michael said grimly, and winced. “Yuck, now I’m thinking about Valenti rubbing on you." He made a gagging motion which Isobel tried to whack him for, and would’ve if Alex wasn’t there to gently catch her wrist and give her hand another kiss.

“Look over there,” he pointed. “That woman’s been eying that painting for the last two minutes, if you want to swoop in . . .”

He trailed off, but Isobel was already gasping and making a beeline straight for her. When she was gone, Alex turned to the table and picked up a quiche.

“Can’t you give her a break tonight?” he said. “She’s doing this to help Kyle.”

“No, she’s not, Alex,” Michael said, annoyed. “She’s doing this because she’s jealous over seeing him around anyone else.”

“Some of those women crowd into him,” Alex defended, “and he’s representing the hospital, he can’t exactly shove them away, can he?” Michael scoffed, and Alex turned to him, hip against the table as he crossed his arms. “You know, this reaction really is rich, coming from the guy that almost set a tour bus on fire when one guy tried to hit on me.”

“He was a singer,” Michael snarled at once, and Alex had the feeling he still remembered every face that had ever flirted with Alex in the past. Probably to take their tires out if they ever drove into Roswell again. “And he was talking about his bandmates sharing you!”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “It would’ve been consensual.”

Michael stared. “Are you trying to make me set this place on fire?”

Alex laughed and turned back to watch the rest of the gallery. It really was such a gorgeous place; the glass dome, the birds and angels engraved in gold on the ivory walls, the pretty people in pretty clothes and smell fancy food and sounds of tinkling laughter in the air. It was no wonder Isobel seemed so much in her element in places like this; it was like living in an art piece.

“You want one of those?”

Alex blinked. “Hm? One of what?”

Michael gestured again with his glass. “Those.”

He raised a brow. “The paintings?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. Was he blushing? “The drawings.”

“They’re masterpieces, Michael.”

“Sure, those.” He squinted at one plaque. The night had just started, how tipsy was he? “This guy’s famous, right?”

“You mean Van Gogh?” Alex tried not to smile. “Yeah, Michael, pretty famous dude.”

Michael heard the silent teasing anyway and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yes, these. Do you want one?”

“Why?” he tilted his head. “You going to get me one?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. He was definitely blushing. “How expensive can they be anyway?”

Alex decided to spare his wonderful husband the shock, and inched closer to Michael until their arms were brushing. “I’m okay. I already have the most gorgeous artwork coming home with me.”

Michael, in his hazy thoughts, took a second to work out what Alex had said, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh ha ha.”

Alex was already laughing under his breath, his shoulders shaking, but when he looked back at Michael, he found his gaze focused, sober and serious and something very private on Alex.

“You’re the most beautiful in any room, baby,” he said.

Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and he blushed, looking down. “Thank you, hubby.”

Michael twined their pinkies together, and Alex looked up at him just as Isobel suddenly appeared and said, “Alex, quick, I think I got the lady close to writing a check, I need some eye candy to sweeten the deal.”

Alex’s brows pinched. “Is that supposed to be me?”

She rolled her eyes, looking too much like her brother. “Come on, hurry up, the hospital’s depending on you – Michael, no, just Alex!”

Michael, who had already pushed off the table, threw his head back to finish the last of his drink and set the glass down, albeit roughly.

“I already told you, sis,” he said jealously, ever the gorgeous hypocrite, “where he goes, I go.”

***

I'm quite proud of this one. Happy malex Monday ❤️