Arming Coat Novels & Stories

Meanwhile, the custom leather shoes I had bought him—worth thousands—had been left untouched until they gathered dust. He had even criticized my taste, saying the shoes were embarrassing and impossible to wear outside. Back then, I had genuinely believed there was something wrong with my sense of style. Foolish as I had been, I had even humbly asked Chelsea for advice on improving my taste. Looking back, I realized Benjamin simply hated anything I gave him. I kicked the three pairs of shoes aside and walked into the house. The moment I looked up, I saw Chelsea lounging lazily on the couch in my nightgown, watching TV like she owned the place.

Finally, I pulled a fitted black coat from the rack. Silver embroidery lined the collar and sleeves, subtle but elegant. “This one,” I said. He took it from me. Examined it. Then looked back at me. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” He slipped it on. The moment the coat settled across his shoulders, I felt my lips curve. Perfect. The dark fabric complimented his eyes and the faint Lycan markings along his skin. Xavier caught the look on my face. “What?” I stepped closer, adjusting the collar slightly.

I haven't dressed like this in a long time. “This is the coat Mr. Shiloh's going to wear. Mr. Gruvv bought it when the fall weather was just starting.” I checked out the coat Ave gave me. Gruvv was the one that got it for me. I take my time and wear it with care. Today, just like Gruvv said, we're going to have fun in the city. Gruvv's set us up with reservations at that steakhouse he was mentioning.

It didn’t remind you to survive. Leather cracking at the knuckles, he tightened his gloves. Black, wool-lined, embroidered in silver thread, his coat draped weightily off his shoulders. It was a statement. A warning. Not fashion. Rosie would’ve hated it. She used to say he looked best in navy, when he still smiled. When his eyes hadn’t hardened into glass. When his voice still held music and not silence. She would’ve said this coat made him look like a man trying not to be seen. Or worse, a man who no longer cared who saw him.

Then with very much excitement, began dressing himself. Roy chose a tight fitting leather pant, high neck white sweater and a pitch black long coat. For this time, he left his dark raven curls free—that gave a nice shape to his angular face. Roy also felt like leaving his hair free because he didn't like wearing beanies or it's substitutes to avoid the cold wind. His long hair usually helped in this matter. He also applied some cold cream to his face. Otherwise, Ivoryina would scold him for not properly keeping his skin hydrated in winter.

he chimed. But I didn't answer, as I raised the coat off the rack. Hovering it up in front of me and squinting at it; searching for creases. The coat felt light and my eyes suddenly bulged as I brought it closer. I felt my heart skip two beats as I slowly dipped my hands in the pockets. I would've lost my mind, but I didn't. As my fingers thankfully clanked against the metal box that was still inside. "Well I don't think only a coat would do sir..." Richard came again now. "It's surprisingly colder than usual this evening, so if I may, I suggest you make do with a lot of body armor?..." he said softly.

Not the thank you for routine things. The other kind. The kind that arrived without announcement. The kind that meant he understood what the thing was. I looked at my son. "You're welcome," I said. He ate his oatmeal. The correct amount of brown sugar. --- I worked on the coat all morning. At the warehouse. In the new space. The light from the left. The cutting table in position. The fabric on the form. A charcoal grey wool. Heavy enough for December. Soft enough for a five year old who would wear it every day.

Each button on the coat was crafted from polished brass, gleaming in the dim light of the room. Beneath the coat, the guard wore a pristine white shirt with a stiff collar, accentuated by a black bowtie that contrasted starkly against the paleness of the fabric. His trousers were a dark grey, tailored to fit him perfectly, and tapered down to a pair of gleaming black boots that shone in the light.

THE GRAND HALL OF THE CASTLE Roberick manly figure was covered with a rough Black royal cloth a black long coat that elegantly drapes over his frame, exuding an air of mystery and sophistication. The coat's dark fabric contrasts sharply with his tone complexion, adding to his enigmatic allure. It fits him impeccably, accentuating his tall and lean figure, while the way he carries himself commands attention and respect.

But the owner’s mind wasn’t made of fairytales or butterflies, but of war, blood, and killing. As he stepped out, the black coat hung over his shoulders with tailored precision, its sharp lines emphasizing the authority in his stance. A broad, dark, and sleek fur collar framed him with an edge of cold elegance and mystery. Fastened neatly with large buttons, the coat fell just above his knees, its weight and cut speaking of both wealth and power. It wasn’t merely an article of clothing; it was a statement, commanding attention the moment he entered a room.