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emsgwenstan · 1 year ago

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Personal or professional?

Chap 1 | chap 2

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Violet Hastings is a feminine and strong willed woman, who also has a lot of secrets, from her unconventional job to her personal issues, Larissa may be the one who opens violets heart but what is the price?

Warnings: eventual swearing, self criticism, hurt/angst, body issues| this chapter, none?

There it’s a lot in store for this just bare with me it’s only the intro. <3

———

“Violet get in here!” My boss called out into the work shop. “Coming!” I yell back, setting down the sand paper on the bench. Quickly making my way to his office I manage to scrape my leg yet again on a protruding piece of timber, with no time I decide against cleaning off the blood that’s now dipping down the length of my leg, when he wants me he wants me now.

Opening the door my breath was caught in my lungs upon laying eyes on the most beautiful woman i had ever seen. “Violet this is miss Weems, she’s looking to have a few cupboards made.” He said half assed with a sigh as if he’s so hard done by. The woman gleamed up at me, uncrossing her legs and extending to her full height. She was tall, very tall but not to much taller than me, already so captivating.

“Larissa.” She said with a deep voice holding out a delicate hand for me to shake. ‘My Larissa you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever gazed at’. I thought as i took her hand and gently yet professionally greeted her properly. “Violet.” I breathed hardly remembering if that was right. The touch lingered a little long, but I’m aching to be eligible enough to feel her hand once again.

“So… what exactly are you looking for.” I asked after clearing my throat. “She wants to get some tall cupboards for classroom storage at that school outta town.” He interjected. I shot him a glare at his rude behaviour. “As I recall I believe I asked miss Weems.” I snapped with a smile, returning my gaze back to her. “Well that is correct, but I was wondering if you had any ideas for the design, I want it to match the interior of the rooms if possible.” She said timidly, her English accent clear and alluring. “Of course I’ll take you to the show room.” I said turning to hold the door open for her.

On the short walk, the air was filled with a comfortable silence, which was nice because I’m not one for small talk. “Here we are, go nuts.” I chuckled. Larissa paced about the room and went from each item on display running her finger tips along the edges. I admired her for doing so, sometimes feeling something is far more important than looking, although that to is quite necessary, but I also admired her, her posture and height, her beauty and kindness, Larissa seems to be the epitome of grace, to which I envy.

“Oh my goodness these are incredible.” she said turning to look at me over her shoulder. I blushed and tilted my head down slightly flustered. “Who ever made all of this is very good, just look at the detail.” smiling and saying nothing, Larissa faced me probably observing my silence. “Did- did you do all of this?” She asked. “Guilty.” I responded returning her gaze. “Well, you very talented, your skill is remarkable.” She said, making me smile in thanks.

“So anything in particular catch your eye?” I wondered. “All of it honestly, but…personally this is my favourite.” Larissa walked a few steps to a vanity i made a few years back, not one that goes in a bathroom but the free standing one’s that go in a bedroom or foyer. I could see how her face contorted into awe at its presents, her eyes scanning over the fine details scribed into marble tops edge and the vintage gold handles, the mirror frame also a painted embellished gold. Larissa looked at me and began to speak again. “You know, this is off topic but… it was quite refreshing to see you walk in before, I thought I would be dealing with another incipient man.” She said not bothering to care if it caused offence. It was absolutely taken as a compliment.

“Well, if I’m being honest, it was lovely to see you to, we get all sorts of different clients who may I say are a handful to deal with, especially since they get palmed off to me considering I’m the only worker.” I replied in hopes of showing my gratitude for her compliance. “Your the only other person who works here… apart form your boss?” She asked almost in a concerned manner. “Yes, no body else finds him tolerant enough to stick around, so really the only reason I’m here is because I have some freedom over what I do, a little blackmail of me leaving and him shutting down for good always seems to do the trick.”

Larissa grinned at my words understanding that you need to play a little dirty if you want to survive in the business industry, something Larissa knows very well. “I tell you what… It’s yours, I have no use for it, I just have to tweak a few things before I deliver it for you.” I said hoping she would like the offer. “Oh no… I couldn’t.” She muttered but her face said otherwise. “Cant or won’t?” I asked almost as if i were daring her just to say yes.

Larissa eventually accepted the offer with much reluctance, her blush didn’t go unnoticed when i grasped her bicep smiling at her when she obliged. “Well, when would you like me to come and take some measurements?” hoping it’s soon so i don’t die of anticipation. “Does tomorrow evening work for you? It’s probably best that you come when students aren’t in the way.” She spoke. “Tomorrow it’s just fine how is four o’clock?” I asked. “Perfect.” She said.

Larissa looked down at her feet for a moment to avoid her crimson cheeks being displayed, but quickly her eyes found my shin. “Oh what have you done? Your bleeding.” She uttered, a look of worry washed over her features. Looking down remembering that i had in fact cut myself. “It’s nothing look at all the other scars, I’m sure you can tell it’s not the first time.” I laughed, shrugging it off as no big deal. Larissa opens her purse and pulled out a plaster holding it out for me to take. “Here.” She said. I sighed and took it thanking her and saying it’s not necessary. “It’s absolutely necessary, you need to look after yourself darling, I have to make sure the woman I need is in good physical health now dont I?” She protested. ‘Darling!? her charm is going to kill me!’.

Walking back to the office I said goodbye and good luck dealing with my boss to finalise some paperwork, Larissa let out a breathy chuckle at the statement and bid me farewell also. I paced back to my bench and resumed the task with only one thing on my mind, a beautiful woman called Larissa Weems.

———

The next morning was a drag, it honestly couldn’t go any slower, excitement pulsed though my body as well as butterflies in my stomach, just thinking about meeting Larissa again I’m torn between nervousness and the trill of seeing her, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt so giddy just because of a simple conversation or over anything for that matter.

After securing a few shipments of board to make a wardrobe for another client and doing some required maintenance on machinery it was finally time to drive to nevermore, that in its self was exciting. Before I started the twenty minute drive, i went to the weathervane to get a hot chocolate and a pastry on the way and hesitantly bought another set to offer Larissa. I have never done anything like this before. ‘God is she going to think I’m weird for buying her this? Does she even like this stuff? Let’s hope she’s not lactose intolerant or a gluten free person. God Just. Calm. Down’.

The drive down the road leading to the school was in some way magical, the trees making a canopy was surreal, the sunlight creeping through the branches and casting flickering rays along the windscreen, the cool breeze that was gently blowing the leaves was a beautiful sight. Anything that wasn’t four walls and loud noises was remarkable, it feels like when i take a step outside of the work shop and back into the world I’m alive or regenerated again.

Arriving through the iron gates my face dropped at the sight of the imposing school, it was huge and the architecture was to die for, it had a gothic aesthetic yet a warm nature to it. ‘My kind of place’. Parking in the staff lot, i made my way out of the car taking the drinks and paper bag holding the food and walked to what seemed to be the front entrance.

It was very quiet the only sounds were light howling of wind through the stone halls and hushed conversations of students bathing in the sun sitting in what you assume is the quad, even if it shaped as a pentagon. Walking aimlessly through archways and openings I found myself In front of a staircase, my gut is telling me to at least try to see if I’m in the right direction of her office.

At the top of the stairs there were plenty of painted portraits of people who were obviously previous headmasters and important alumni, all seemingly men to, that was until my eye was caught by a flurry of light colour. Just as I thought it was Larissa, her bright hair pinned to perfection and blue eyes radiant, i give credit to whoever captured all of her beauty, especially that little scare above her lip that i somehow absolutely adore.

My staring was cut short when I heard a door open and heals clicking against the marble floors, whipping around I immediately remember she’s far more beautiful in person. “What a horrid experience that was.” She said nodding towards the portrait. “Looks pretty incredible to me.” I said giving her a grin. “Yes well, sitting in silence for six hours without a break wasn’t very ideal, not to mention having to go back the next day to do it again was dreadful.” She chuckled. She tilted her head to look at herself and grimaced at it. “To be quite honest I try so hard to avoid it every time I step of of my office.” She said softly and turned her gaze back to me. “You shouldn’t it’s beautiful.” I said. With a huff Larissa straightened her posture and regained her mask of professionalism. “Hello violet.” She said realising she hadn’t greeted me properly. “Hi.” I responded.

Larissa turned and placed her hand on my shoulder walking me to her office. As we stepped inside the amazement came back tenfold, her interior was impeccable every colour and material held a rich aesthetic, from layered curtains to thick rugs and simple yet eye catching memorabilia that was effortlessly critiqued into place. She has wonderful taste, the only downside was her desk, a small crappy little thing that I’m sure she has trouble fitting under.

Larissa rounder her desk and sat at her throne of a chair and wordlessly asked you to sit by motioning her hand. “Oh, by the way I wasn’t exactly sure if or what you wanted but I brought you a hot chocolate and and a croissant.” You said holding up the goods. “You didn’t.” She said a grin appearing on her face. “I didn’t know what you liked or if you could eat or drink it, but I just thought I shouldn’t be selfish and offer you something anyway.” You shyly stated. “No I want it, that’s my usual actually.” She said. “I hope Your not lying to not make me feel bad are you?” You asked. “Not at all.” She smiled. “Ok well I have one that’s just plain and one that has whipped cream and marshmallows in it so take your pick.” You said pointing to the designated cups. Larissa bites on her bottom lip as she inches toward the drink with the toppings. “Don’t tell anyone but I have the biggest sweet tooth.” She giggled, the sound alone was a melody you wished to hear forever.

“So tell me about the process of making and installing the cupboards? Is it difficult? How would you manage to trek them into the school? Especially by yourself, I’d help you but I’m afraid I’m rather weak.” Larissa asked after she let out a hum at the taste of the drink, getting lost in her own mind wondering about the questions. You chuckled at her slight concern. “Well we figure out what colour or patterned board your looking for, order it and manufacture it in the work shop and I deliver and install it, as for bringing it here I’ll figure that out.” I said taking a sip of my own drink.

Larissa nodded at my words and seemingly scanned my figure, her eyes ran over the expanse of my body from hair and eyes to my clothes, crossed legs and shoes. I broke the silence feeling a little self conscious under her piercing gaze. “I’m afraid my uniform isn’t nearly as impeccable as yours I’m sorry.” I laughed nervously snapping her back to reality. “No, I was actually admiring, I think florissant pink looks great on you and I adore the pink laces on your boots.” She said politely pointing at your feet. “Oh thanks I guess, I decided that if I were to work in this industry I wanted to look quite feminine, what ever that is right?” I chucked. “Yes I see.” She smiled taking another sip.

After a few conversations about little bits of information and other steps, Larissa guided me back down stairs to a classroom. The whole time I spoke with her I realised how easy she is to talk to, Larissa comes across as sweet and charming, charismatic and intelligent, I do feel like slowly she’s peeling layers of professionalism back and being a little more personable and vulnerable, but so am I, not once have i had someone so friendly and easygoing to work or deal with, Larissa seems to understand my opinions and does everything she can to be as simple as she can to make things easier for me. Although a part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s just only being friendly for the sake of it or if Larissa genuinely likes me as a person.

After discussing the materials and rough estimates for costs Larissa and I walked back towards my car. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the results once everything is finalised.” She said clasping her hands in front of herself. “So am I, I think everything is going to look and function great.” I spoke. For a moment she didn’t say anything and just looked at me, although my gaze was diverted to behind her, a car was backing out rather quickly and without thinking i grasped her wrists and pulled her flush against me to prevent her from possibly being hit.

Larissa was stunned at the sudden movement just as much as i was, the person who was driving stopped and wound down the window, a woman with red hair and glasses far to big for her face gave an apologetic smile “oh my god I’m soo sorry I didn’t see you guys there, forgive me principal Weems.” Larissa gave you a look before stepping back and composing herself. “That’s alright Marilyn, please be careful next time.” She said, you could tell she was slightly annoyed it was actually quite funny. With that the woman drove off leaving myself and Larissa in silence. “Sorry about that.” She said. “How is that your fault?” I asked. “It’s not but…” she began. “It’s fine, I just didn’t want you to be run over.” I stated. “I suppose a thank you is in order than.” “No problem miss Weems.” I said. “Please, call me Larissa, I get sick of hearing that name every waking moment of the day.” The woman asked me hopefully. “Ok than Larissa, I’ll be seeing you sometime soon, don’t overwork yourself, I need you in good shape to tell me your thoughts on things ok?” I half joked clearly mocking her for the previous day, but wished it entirely. “I will darling, take care of yourself as well.” Again with the darling. At that I slipped into the drivers seat of my work car and waved Larissa goodbye heading back down the driveway.

Larissa slowly walked back towards her office stopping every so often to absorb the sunshine’s warmth, before heading down the cold stone corridors. She stepped inside of her room and smiled at the empty cup on her desk, Larissa wrapped her perfectly manicured hands around the paper and went to throw it in the bin, however she stopped in her tracks at the delicate handwriting with a phone number and name marked with ‘vi ;)’. She grinned at herself and whipped out her phone.

‘Meet me at the weathervane in your lunch break tomorrow? ~Larissa.’

@sabraaabra

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #principle weems #wednesday #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #gwenchrist(ie)#wlw fanfic

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 1 year ago

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Some Modern Aemond Headcanons:

Hey y'all! So the votes were pretty close, but by a slim majority it looks like one post per character was the winner! 🥳 I also just have too many ideas for certain characters! So I'm going to start with my favorite, the man, the myth the legend, Aemond himself. My internet is going to be a little spotty for the next few days, since I'm going to be moving, but stay with me! I'll get them all on here at some point :)

He has a big black/gray great dane named Vhagar. I saw someone else say he’d have a great dane, and I totally agree!

He experimented with different colors for his false eye, blue, green, maybe even the signature Targaryen lavender. But ultimately he settles with the sapphire blue stone. It’s different, and makes him feel badass, but also a little pretty :)

Mans is the embodiment of dark academia, from style to work ethic. He’d be a double major in philosophy, and history. Maybe a minor in business, just in case Aegon somehow convinces Alicent and Viserys to give him the family business instead him. He’d still be the CFO or something, but CEO does have a better ring to it…

He'd get his own apartment as soon as possible. He doesn't like having roommates all up in his business. He refused to stay in a dorm room with a total stranger, so he and Aegon teamed up for once to convince Alicent to let them do an apartment together instead. But after a year or so, Aemond needed his own space… Aegon isn’t exactly neat and tidy sometimes.

Speaking of his apartment, I think Aemond would be pretty minimalist. He doesn't super love clutter. But his office might be the one exception. Since he's a double major with a minor, he's got a lot of textbooks, and novels lying around. Unlike Helaena, he's not a collector, or a huge fan of nic nacs. But he does have his posh tea, and I think he'd have a small collection of about 3 or 4 daggers.

It would be interesting to see him with an s/o that is a collector, he'd probably end up designating a part of his house to them for all their little things. He could handle a small corner or bookshelf, but it grows on him overtime. And he gets secretly a little excited every time they bring something new home. "Hey look what I got at the antique store today!" "Add it to the shelf love :)"

Definitely a smoker. He knows it’s a bad habit, but he’s not super driven to quit either. It’s a stress reliever, and it gives him something to do while thinking. Helps him process stuff. (also it’s just kind of hot to think of Aemond with a leather coat and a cigarette, plus that motorcycle I mentioned earlier…)

Black is his favorite color/shade, at least for clothing and interior decorating. But ever since he was a kid he's had a thing for blue, a deep ocean, sapphire blue. That's probably why he settles on the blue sapphire for his eye.

Modern boyfriend Aemond would be a secret romantic I think. He didn't really have many girlfriends if any in high school. He'd have had his first kiss and all that, but they weren't really on his radar. Part of me thinks Aemond would be with someone a slightly more extroverted than himself. They would get him out of the house a little more, even if it's just to take Vhagar for a longer evening walk than usual.

I think one of his love languages would be gift giving. He can be a little closed off sometimes, so when words seem to fail him, he'd find a way through gifts. They'd range from a bouquet of your favorite flowers, to a private dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. You saw a dress, or top you liked online? It would be nicely wrapped in a box on your bed within the next couple days.

He needs someone with patience. He's insecure about his eye sometimes, (not all the time, cause I feel like he has some days where he's totally feeling it). He might take a while to let down some walls, but when he does, you can read him like a book. You see him squint a little at something his brother said? You know he's annoyed and wants to change the subject.

Looovvessss dark chocolate. More particularly though, he loves chocolate covered espresso beans. It's his snack when studying.

He runs cold, he has an extra layer with him at all times. Sometimes it's a sweater under his leather jacket, or a scarf Alicent made him tucked into his bag.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond fic #modern aemond #hotd headcanon #modern hotd #aemond headcanons #modern au #headcanon #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #team green #hotd memes #aemond x oc #hotd season 1

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ryaancreativeliving · 6 months ago

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Trendy And Organized Home Office Design Ideas

Are you planning to upgrade your home office and make it more stylish and functional? Creating a focused home office that motivates you to work requires a lot of things. From the right furniture to lighting and more, we have discussed trendy and organized home office design ideas that will help create a functional and inspiring space. Read More: Trendy And Organized Home Office Design Ideas

#HOME OFFICE DESIGN #HOME OFFICE DESIGN IDEAS #HOME OFFICE INTERIOR DESIGN #HOME OFFICE ROOM DESIGN #SMALL HOME OFFICE DESIGN

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theclassicinterior · 9 months ago

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Classic Interior: Stunning Office Interior Design Ideas for Jasola, Delhi

Experience the epitome of office interior design in Jasola, Delhi, with Classic Interior. From sleek and modern designs to timeless and traditional styles, we have the expertise to cater to all your design preferences. Let us collaborate with you to bring your vision to life and create a workspace that reflects the professionalism and success of your business.

Click Here: https://theclassicinterior.in/best-office-interior-designers-delhi-ncr

#best office interior design services in delhi #best office interior designers in delhi #latest office interior design and décor #office decorating ideas in delhi ncr #office interior design company in delhi ncr #office interior design ideas for small space #office interior design in delhi ncr #office interior design in jasola delhi #office interior design plan in delhi ncr #small office interior design in delhi ncr

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drapopia · 4 months ago

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the flames devour (everything that we are)

pairing: (young) sister imperator x (young) papa nihil emeritus

warnings: SMUT! vaginal sex, vaginal fingering/cunnilingus, groupie sex/mild infidelity, a messy coupling, some light angst and mentioned misogyny, mentioned past murder, set around the late 60's but before the Kiss the Go Goat incident, only Primo and Secondo exist

summary: Control, power, fame. Everything Sister Imperator promised the Clergy that the Ghost Project would culminate and more. But when push comes to shove and Nihil can't look past the packed backstage doors, someone has to put their foot down. (Surprise, surprise. It's not Sister Imperator).

word count: 10.2k

authors note: special thanks to @barelydaisy for commissioning this piece from me! the gratitude i feel towards you makes me ever so fond! i hope whoever reads this enjoys it, comments/reblogs/likes are always appreciated!

MINORS DNI

Read On AO3

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Facetious. Flippant. Exaggeratedly stupid enough to make her head thrum with anger on a daily basis. How unfortunate that he be so alluring.

The motel lobby was stuffy, the air thick and humid with the hum of the heater. She assumed it was the owner’s fault the heat was up so high, the flurries of snow outside swirling across the frosted panes of glass. She looked at the carpet below her, mottled with green and brown in an unappealing combination. It was a struggle to push down the urge to scoff.

Lifting her head, she studied the features in the dimly lit foyer. The furniture was mismatched in an abysmal show of ��interior design’ skills, a mixing of modern and so dreadfully outdated that it made her want to retch. Resisting the urge to openly huff, Imperator pulled her coat tighter around her. The fur trim tickles against her neck, her hair further up than normal and lessening the chance of it whipping in the wind. The silk scarf wrapped around her head protects her ears, and heightens the anticipation of walking into a room and having all eyes on her.

She walks closer to the small front office window, peering in a bit more. The urge to ring the call bell and finally get some goddamn service was at the forefront of her mind. The dingy carpet, the thick lining of dust in the creases of the front desk, she could go on about the reasons she wished they were at another motel. To put it lightly, they were shit out of luck. She was no stranger to dingy motels, but the fact that they were better than that was a nagging thought in the back of her mind.

The tour was going well. In fact, better than well. Throngs of screaming fans, clubs and bars packed with people begging for an opportunity to see Papa Nihil up close. From her spot in the wings, Sister Imperator watched with subtle glee. She knew that Nihil was charismatic, but she hadn’t anticipated the reception they had gotten from the public. There were those in it for the music, for Satan, or more overwhelmingly for him. The dingy bars had been acceptable to play, the low tickets quickly piling into more than they had ever imagined possible for the Clergy.

Sister had fought for the Ghost project, staring down the eyes of men she knew only wanted to see her on her back with her legs spread. Men who wouldn’t shirk the chance to push her down for fun, to throw down her ideas with a lackadaisical “We’ll consider it.” But Sister Imperator had listened to her, looked at her ideas with an interest that led to her taking a young woman with wild ideas under her wing. And now here she was, with her title and her status, a former name now neglected, a shallow grave in the woods at the Abbey that nobody would find, and a small syringe hidden in a lockbox that she had thrown away the key to.

But with fame and a message spreading far quicker than anticipated, Sister couldn’t help but wish to stretch the budget in other ways. For once she would like to lay her head in a bed she hadn’t voraciously searched for bed bugs, stripping the sheets to find cigarette burns in the mattress. Nihil hadn’t cared, simply flopping down beside her and mouth opening in an uncaring yawn. Though they had separate rooms, it was seldom that they spent the night away from one another. Though she was loath to admit it, she had grown used to the weight of his head on her chest and the rise and fall of his breath on her nightgown. The road was lonely, who else to turn to but him? Practically any ghoul or stage hand , she thought to herself. But where was the fun in that?

Her line of thought was broken as she heard the waddling gait of the man stationed at the front desk, his non-slip shoes certainly close to slipping on the waxed linoleum. He appeared at the window, the flannel buttoned so tightly around his neck that she was frightened it was strangling him.

He let out a huff, flipping through the pages of paperwork that the Clergy had sent months earlier in preparation for the tour. Three rooms, two for her and Nihil and one for any reclusive ghouls that didn’t want to pile in on the bus. The man looked at her, locking eyes with an uninterested, if slightly bored, look. “Alright, I found the work in the back. Took me a minute, but it was just tucked away. You have ID, right?”

Sister nodded, her hand reaching into the mustard yellow vinyl bag she kept her clutch in. After flicking through her pocket change, she found her ID behind Nihil’s credit card. She grabbed it, placing it down on the cracked plastic of the desk and pushing it towards the man. Though she had gloves on, she didn’t trust how clean the man's hands were and didn’t want to risk him staining the crisp white of her faux fur gloves. (She cared little for the plight of the leather industry, but she couldn’t deny the news articles dampened her excitement for a new addition to her closet).

The man picked up the ID, gave it a cursory glance and nodded his head in acceptance. His hand slid under the desk, looking around for the keys no doubt. She turned around, her arms lightly wrapped around herself as the heater had stopped its incessant blasting. She turned in a half circle, her boots clicking against the floor once and then stopping. Her eyes turned to the window, the flurries coming down as mercilessly as they had been when they had rolled into the parking lot.

The light from the overhead street light shone hazy light over the parking lot, blending into the dark of the winter night as seamlessly as cream stirred into coffee. The bus was in the distance, the tinted lights only showing blurry shapes moving against the inside of the vehicle. That wasn’t what she glimpsed that snatched her attention away from the moment.

Leaning against the pillar of the motel was the curved posture of Nihil, his coat wrapped around his waist in a way that posited his sculpted abdomen that anybody would blush at. His makeup was still painted on, though a familiar eye could tell where it was beginning to pill on his neck from the copious sweat that poured down in the stage lights. His legs were crossed behind him, his platforms digging into the swirls of snow that would no doubt accumulate over night. Even through the heat of his body, the flakes of snow drifting down had caught on the unruly strands of hair and failed to melt. That wasn’t what Sister couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from.

Nihil’s arm was placed along the hip of a woman, unknown to her. No doubt a fan from the way the woman’s lips were curled into gleeful disbelief at her luck. Sister could almost imagine the tittering, the vapid flustering of words that had become so commonplace that all she could do was turn with a roll of her eyes and a tap of her cigarette. The woman’s lips moved, and Sister could see Nihil’s mouth open in a laugh, the easy smile on his face directed at her. The hand on the woman’s hip visibly gripped tighter, pulling her closer to the warmth of his torso. The woman’s hand raised, gripping his clothed bicep and running up and down. Mocking.

Nihil turned, the woman moving alongside him and his arm curling around her hips, her deliciously full waist. His fingers pulled at the flesh, and his touch was… soft. Unfamiliar and with an air of understanding that no doubt made the woman’s stomach flutter with warmth. Had she ever been touched by a man, a woman? The intoxicating knowledge that she had sealed the deal with Papa Nihil, up and coming star of the Olde One himself. Did she know just how well his fingers moved, how his cock had made so many feel like their world was melting around them? She soon would.

Sister’s face was blank, her eyes narrowed in contemplation and thinly veiled vexation. Her stomach was simmering with… rage? Unclear. Her gloves squeaked as her hands squeezed together, her arms still crossed tightly together.

“Ma’am?” A voice said behind her, and she turned on her heel. What now? Imperator thought, her eyes flicking down at the set of keys on the ledge of the desk and her irritation fading. She picked up the key, gripping it in her hand.

The front desk attendant reached into the drawer, his head tilting up to meet her gaze. “Do you want the other key for your friend?” He motioned his head, leaning on his foot to look at Nihil outside.

Sister shook her head, her hair weighing heavy on top of it. She still needed to take a shower, unravel the intricate pins around her bun, and unpack her clothes for the morning. She let out a sigh, a careful shrug of her shoulders as she craned her head around to look out the window once more. Still in the cold, Nihil’s arms were wrapped tightly around the woman, his lips latched onto her neck and her mouth open in what was undoubtedly a wanton moan. In the middle of the night, no one was around to see them. But Sister knew he would have done it onstage, at an after party, on an altar at Black Mass for Satan’s sake.

She swiftly turned her head, meeting his gaze and pointedly dropping a twenty on the cracked plastic once more. “He can do it himself, I’m certain he can manage.” Her voice came out firm and stiff in the quiet of the lobby, and she turned to walk to the door. While she could ignore the way he licked at the woman's ear, turning pink from the bitter gusts of wind, she couldn’t ignore the simmering heat in her stomach. But there was nothing saying she couldn’t try.

___________________

The heat of the dressing room was sweltering, the push and pull of bodies making Imperator’s lip curl in disgust. The heat of the fire ghoul to her left was making her sweat, and she couldn’t afford to stain the new Emilio Pucci dress she had purchased earlier that day. The pink and green pattern helped to disguise the sweat no doubt attempting to push its way past her slip, the silk cool against her skin in the overwhelming bustle before the show. She was happy she opted to wear her hair in a high bun, the bump in her hair allowing the thin air to waft against her neck.

As she studied the people (and otherwise) in the room, her eyes landed on Nihil naturally. His hands were steady as he painted the lines across his lips, his mouth open in what would be a gasp if the thought to do so struck him. She smiled, her hand raising to her lips and taking a small drag of her cigarette. She let her hand fall away, tapping the ash into the crowded ashtray to her left. As the months in the tour had gone on, she had felt drawn towards Nihil. Long nights were spent with him nestled into her side, speaking about where they had come from, their dreams, what toppings they would add to a sundae, what colors they look best in. It was hard to deny the way her heart pounded when he drew near, though she hid it behind a stern demeanor and a perfectly drawn on smile.

The door opened, a ghoul walking in and looking towards Nihil. “Papa? You’ve got a call on the other line, the manager is trying to patch it through to ‘ya.” The earth ghoul spoke in a lethargic sway as he pushed his way through the crowd, the familiar pungent smell of dope stuck to his clothes. Nihil nodded, shooting the ghoul a half painted grin as he set down the brush and reached for the white marbled telephone to his left. He picked it up off the receiver, holding it against his ear. He paused, listening for the feedback of the call.

“Yello?” Nihil said into the phone, a confused look on his face, though it stretched into a grin as he let the call go on further. “Yes, it’s Papa. I thought you were supposed to be sleeping? Is it not night there, ragazzino? ( little boy).” Nihil’s lips were wide as he snickered into the phone, cradling it to his ear as he listened intently. Imperator could have bled from the ears at the urge to roll her eyes.

Nihil’s son Primo was sweet, there were no doubts about that. Quiet and intelligent, he was racing through his studies with diligence that was admirable for children his age. However, she couldn’t stop the irritation that fueled her when she saw him, heard his voice. He was a child, for Satan’s sake, she was being unreasonably harsh! But he was part of the bloodline, time would tell if he was worthy of his spot as Papa in adulthood. For now, he would watch Doctor Who and study to be the antipope. What an antithesis, she snorted to herself, pulling her cigarette to her lips for another puff.

“I will keep you on my mind, make sure to keep an eye out for your little brother. Especially him, I know he has been eating my Cordials. I have eyes on him, the piccola rana. (little frog).” NIhil laughs, his white paint creasing where he had failed to set it. After a minute or so of diligent listening, he shushes into the phone. “Goodnight, tell your fratello I send my love.” A pause, and a look of tired fondness softens his face. “Bye bye.” He pulls the phone away from his ear, placing it back on the receiver with a ring.

She wouldn’t pry, Sister thought to herself. Though she was never one to shy away from stirring up the mud with a well placed jab, she knew better than to push at the… delicate nature of Nihil’s relationship with his young children. It’s not as though they were all little monsters (She found herself grimacing internally, they weren’t little monsters all the time. But it would be no hard challenge to count on her fingers all the times she’d found leftover Chiclets from Secondo in her purse. Little bastard).

She rose from her seat, pushing through the ghouls pulling on their clothes for the performance. Walking up to stand behind his desk, she met his gaze in the mirror with a smile barely noticeable in the haze of the dimly lit room.

Nihil meets her smile with one of his own, his hand deftly gripping the small liner brush to his left and dipping it into the black grease paint. His eyes pull away from hers with a small degree of difficulty, she notices, and looks towards the mirror and continues the small strokes across his lips, above the bow of his upper lip and ending at his full lower lip. Hands rise, resting on his shoulders as she leans slowly down. Sister smiles, pulling in his scent that was so delicately him. How he managed to smell like juniper and basil eluded her, Nihil even going to a point of going into another room to spray his cologne so she couldn’t see the bottle. (“A man has to have some sort of mystery, si?” He had laughed, and she responded with a scoff. It still didn’t stop her from scouring every perfume counter in every city to find it).

She leaned her cheek against his, his eyes still locked onto his visage in the mirror, but his hands had a perceptible shake to them. “Nervous?” Sister purred, her pink frosted nails tracing along the line of his black leather coat.

Her cheek pulled away from his, her lips turning to the shell of his ear. Her breath was soft and warm on his ear, a tickle against the skin of his neck that pulled the hair on end quicker than the cold outside. Even in a warm room, Sister made him feel as if he’d gone skinny dipping in November.

“No, I am not. Merely hot.” His voice was soft in the din of the crowded room. “You would think they would have another room to dress in, si ?” He smiled at her, adding a thicker line to balance the larger stripe alongside it. Her nails continue to trace along his collar, the soft pads on her finger edging along the skin of his neck. Dipping into the countours of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple with a calculating grace. His breath was steady, but his eyes, not yet coated with black shadow, were lidded with a hazy fondness.

An excited yelp from the corner by Nihil’s own guitarist shocked her out of the moment, her hands quickly pulling away. NIhil’s smile dropped in disappointment, but it stilled as Sister’s hands returned to tug his collar closer together and quickly fasten a button.

“We have a budget, Papa.” Sister’s voice said softly, though it was said with such finality so as to stop the train of conversation from going any further. Nihil shrugged, setting down the smaller liner brush and reaching across the table for his loose powder. As he opened his mouth, she knew the attempt would go ignored.

He hummed, looking up at her with a playful smirk, “Oh? And our budget includes a new pair of pumps?” At that her smile becomes an even line, her thin eyebrows furrowing as the words drop from his lips. Of course he had to push too far. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the limits of their spending allowance. It didn’t stop him picking the most upscale restaurants in the area, loosening the buttons on his shirts as more and more drinks were sent to the table, the way his eyes roamed the women who passed by. To her annoyance, he had never noticed the way her hands gripped the stem of her wine glass with vitriol, how she met the gaze of every curious woman and turned their eyes away.

“Yes. Just as it apparently includes a new coat and- oh? What’s this?” Sister’s hands shot towards him, gripping his wrist with care. She held it with tightness, making sure not to hurt Nihil. Never hurt, she told herself. Sister’s eyes sparked with a curious viciousness, but her stomach burned with ire.

“A new watch? Where could you have possibly gotten this little gem?” She hummed similarly to his own playful song moments beforehand. If there was one thing Imperator could do, she could match someone’s game. In kindness or in truculence.

Nihil’s smile didn’t drop, but the kidnapped arm rose and cupped her cheek. She sighed, resisting the urge to lean into his palm. The hand remained around his wrist, but she let it it go somewhat lax. The thick curls of hair along his arms were soft, though the wiry swirls of hair along his stomach were similar but not quite so coarse. Her thumb rubbed along his wrist, a gentle back and forth.

“I want to look nice for you, Sister.” Nihil’s accent and the curiously odd intones of ‘Sister’ made her cheeks tighten with the urge to giggle, and the tight smile made Nihil’s lip lift even further.. “Do I not look nice for you? I try so hard, you know this.” He pouts, the pop of his lower lip making her smile spread further. Damn fool, she thought to herself. Was she speaking about herself, or Papa? She could parcel through these thoughts later in the obscured dark of the tour bus.

“You do.” Sister said in a low mumble. The way her stomach buzzed was unfamiliar, the compressed feeling around her lungs making it hard to conceive of any thought besides how Nihil smiled at her, the way his hand fit along her hip and how her hand had never felt so drawn to touch someone. His skin was so warm, a sunkissed tan that made her buzz with something unknown. Or maybe she had always known.

He pulled away, and she fought the urge to jump towards his arms again and pull him to her. No, she wouldn’t stoop to begging. He turned to the mirror, patting the powder into his lips. “Good! The crowd will love it, always so attentive. The doors are open after performances, as always.” His eyes gleamed, the devilish glow of his one white eye gleaming in the muted warmness of this damnedly hot room. Could it compare to the warmth in Sister Imperator’s chest?

The fuzziness she had felt moments earlier was extinguished in that single sentence, burned by the way she had to stop herself from reaching forward and throttling him right then and there. How stupid could a man be? She was stunned every single day by the utter idiocy of men, going from not knowing how to do laundry all the way to this. She let her face go blank, what other course of action was there? If she followed her emotions, Papa Nihil would be buried in a shallow grave behind this very club. To hold her in his hands, and then casually drop that he wanted to get his dick wet?

Satan, maybe she should have listened to her mother and just become a lesbian in Boston instead.

Sister straightened her posture. “Of course they’re always open.” she said coldly. Her hands folded in front of her. They’re always fucking open.

His eyes look towards her, the grin still on his face but his eyes speak of something she can’t pin. She turns around, pushing through the throng of bodies with the force needed. Nihil has the right to his body, just as she does to her own. She could find any man in this glorified venue, pull them into an alcove and possibly cum. There’s no guarantee of that, she thought, fighting back the mocking laugh that wanted to tumble out of her mouth.

But she won’t. She won’t do that.

_____________________

The crowd was loud, though the indescribable energy that had pulsed in the room minutes earlier had fallen as the show had come to a close. Sister Imperator looked from the wings, Nihil was glorious. Sweat dripped from his chin, his eye gleaming in the stage lights as he pranced along the edge of the stage. His shirt was unbuttoned, the ringlets of hair soaked under the fabric. His boots were clinking against the floor, the pointed tips tapping in a calculated rhythm. Women were lined along the edge, their hair curled and their lashes stark against pastel blues and blush pinks. Pink blush against dark skin, similar beads of sweat lining their cleavage that was oh so pointedly pushed forward. All for Nihil. And she knew that he knew, regardless of if he had made the asinine comments earlier.

She turned, walking along the dark corners. Stage hands were leisurely walking, some carrying side lights and some carrying cords, wrapped in loops and gingerly carried to storage closets nearby. She needed a cigarette before he came back there, shucking his coat off and waiting for women to fall to their knees before him, to curl up in his arms.

She felt the familiar burn in her stomach of anger, of envy. Where the hell did she put her handbag again? She slid along the walls, feeling her way through the dark as her boots clicked along the waxed floor. The burn of eyes along her legs made her grimace, one more nuisance to deal with. Being honest with herself, all she wanted right now was to be curled up in her blankets back at the hotel, pleasantly sated and sweaty, held in Nihil’s arms and dozing in the glow of the television set. But no, she had to see him go back to his room with one, if not several , women running their hands along his thin body.

She needed a cigarette.

The space opened, the stairs leading back to the green room intersection between a larger side door. She sighed, the flow of air leveling out in the space, away from sweaty rugged men. Reaching for the door, she felt the sweat at the nape of her neck go blessedly cold. A break was what she needed, it would be another hour or so before Sister had the opportunity to be completely alone with a nice glass of champagne. Damn it all, she’d pay for the room service her fucking self. The last thing she wanted after a night like this was the Clergy treasurer waking her up in the night wondering why they’d been notified by the hotel of another ‘useless’ purchase.

Imperator leaned against the wall, the high collar of her patterned dress constricting the skin around her neck. She was lucky she had done her hair so high, the beehive allowing her to feel the cold air on her skin as best as she could. As best as she could, the thought mocked her. Out of all the times Nihil had fucked her into the bed, it had been her controlling his moves. Grabbing him by the hair and moans punching out from his throat, riding him until he cried from the sheer ecstasy of the orgasms rung from his overextended body, sucking him down in the shitty tour bus bunks when the ghouls had finally taken the message and left. And here he was, leering over the edge of the stage like he called the shots.

Sister Imperator knew he couldn’t take initiative if it offered itself up with its legs spread. Why the hell would he start now, she lamented.

The door to her left opened, the conversation high and energetic. As the door opened, she met the gaze of three women. Their conversation halted, noticing the woman on their right. She doesn’t look at their clothes, what point does it serve? They’re back here now and have come for a reason. At one point, she had made a point to memorize what they wore. How their belts cinched their waists, how their breasts spilled softly from their blouses in an appealing display of warmth. Not that she stewed on it, she would just have a bartender conveniently card them, or they would just so happen to lose their tickets.

Her eyes meet with the first woman. She smiles, a warm if not curious smile. “Hey, sorry to bother, but could you point us in the direction of the dressing rooms?” Her smile is toothy, Imperator files this knowledge away.

Sister crosses her arms, steeling her features into a cold impasse. “No, they don’t have one.” Her voice is oppressive.

The other woman with a pale nude lip, stark against the darkness of her skin and softness of her cheeks blinks and screws her face in skepticism. The confusion is clear on her face. Here’s the thing about Sister Imperator: she doesn’t give two shits about her confusion. Sister is tired, her face baking under the powder she applied earlier that day, her feet burning from her platformed boots.

She’s not quite inclined to point these women towards Nihil and exclaim, “Here he is! His cock is always ready! Would you like condoms, or would you prefer to go raw? Both are enjoyable, I surely would know!”

At this point in the night, she’s far more inclined to being difficult.

“They don’t have a dressing room?” The first lady intones, her head tilting as she pouts in confusion.

“Precisely.” Sister says dryly, her eyes narrowing. Her arms, still crossed tightly, allow her to tap her fingers along her arm in impatience. The woman laughs, smiling at Sister. She clearly hasn’t caught on that Sister Imperator would rather be anywhere but here, especially in front of these other women.

“So does Papa just get changed in the hallways? That’d be a gas.” She giggles, leaning against the propped door. The other two women ignore her, exchanging a look that spelled their confusion more clearly than if they had spoken aloud.

Sister scoffs sarcastically, her lips lifting in sardonic aggression. “Yes, it surely would be.” The last thing she wanted was a conversation, just let her get her fucking cigarettes, go home and have a good cry away from where anyone could see her.

The woman smiles at her once more, looking forward and then turning her head back. “Do you know where he might actually be? We wanted to see him before we ditched here.”

Imperator can feel her smile tighten, shaking her head. Get the hint, lady, good fucking Lord. “He ditched earlier. You just missed him.” Her fingers still rap against her arm, the flickering lightbulb above making one of the other woman’s eye begin twitching. The toothy woman’s face falls, her smile twisting into a pout.

“Bummer.” She sighs, turning back to retreat back through the door. The third woman, her eyes narrowed, lets her eyes run over Sister’s appearance. She scoffs in dismissal, turning back. But before Sister can sigh in relief, her night continues its downward spiral into her own foray into the question of her own sanity.

The space is swallowed by the dark leather and painted face of Nihil himself, panting heavily. Though the sweat has been patted away from his face, his neck is red with exertion. Of fucking course. His eyes turned to her, and then to the three women currently staring at him with varying degrees of joy.

“Oh, hello!” Nihil chimes, his eyes flicking to Sister and then the women once more. “I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting, no?” The women smile at him, the one in the front walking forward and daringly placing a hand on his arm.

“We were in the crowd, Papa. You were unreal!” She smiles at him, her toothy grin making his own smile widen. Sister watches as the other two women walk closer, closely inspecting his wide white eye that shined intriguingly off in the shaky light of the bulb above them.

“Your eye is so beautiful, how do you get it like that?” The woman’s nude lips are wide, her arms wrapped around herself in a way that allowed her to push her tits further together. Sister frowned, her stomach roiling with annoyance. Good grief, just get it over with. Have him grab you by the hips and fuck you in his hotel room, leave the next morning and giggle about it with your girlfriends.

“A gift, bella.” Nihil purred, his hand rising to cup the second woman’s face. Her eyes widen, her cheeks filling out with a flush as he giggles at her. As much as Sister wants to move, she can’t stop. She hadn’t been wooed, as much as she was loath to admit it. Always the one to walk forward first, she had led Nihil along like a puppy on a leash. Of course she loved it, admired how much he turned to her. Either for kindness or guidance, for a fuck on the road late at night, she remained. But had he ever cornered her backstage and let him lick the sweat from her neck without her gripping him by the lapel?

“A gift? Not meaning to bug out or anything, but the speech you gave on stage was unreal. We’d love to hear more.” Ah, the usual segue. Begging for guidance on the Old One’s beliefs and then fucking at his metaphorical altar. She didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t stand to listen. It was one thing to see it at the hotel last month, another to hear him imply it earlier, but she couldn’t take the scene in front of her.

Sister turned, pushing gently past the woman at his side and walking past the gaggle. She walks briskly down the way.

“Mi dispiace belle signore , but I am unfortunately on a tight schedule. Perhaps you could ask one of the ghouls? I’m sure they would be more than happy to speak to such pretty fanciulle.” She can hear the groans of the other women, and the click of their heels as they walk away. The urge to pause and look is strong, but who knows why he did it? Nihil could have already got his rocks off with someone on the way, or the chance of another rendezvous already scheduled. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice, shame on her. She’s already gotten through a third time, and a fourth would just be pathetic.

She turns the corner to the dressing room, thankfully clear. The packing up tended to go quicker than setting up, so hopefully things were going to plan. Sister still needed to check in, but first she wanted a damn cigarette. She walks across the room, leaning against the couch and looking behind where she had kept it. A growl released from her throat, couldn’t she have anything go right tonight? She wouldn’t cry. She knew better than that. But the tightness in her throat was beginning to hurt, the anger from earlier receding. And the sickly green feeling in the pit of her stomach was back, mocking and ugly.

A knock behind her, soft and gentle. She didn’t turn, knowing the click of his boot heels as familiar as her childhood home doorbell.

“Tesoro?” A soft voice calls into the room, loud in the now silent room. Warm earlier with the countless bodies, the lack makes her skin cold under the long draped sleeves of her mini dress. Even adverse to the company of others, she wishes that someone was here to pillow the moment with a stranger's presence.

“There’s no need to speak so quietly, Papa. We’re the only two here.” Sister says plainly, pushing the emotion out of her voice. All of this because of jealousy towards some fan? Out of all the shows she could have gotten upset over, this is the one? How demeaning.

“I am aware we’re alone. I see you after all my shows, yes?” She doesn’t turn to look at him, but his hands come to her hips behind her. Imperator stills, the hot sticky feeling in her stomach still there. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Out of all the times she had seen the way he acted, why is now the time she chose to turn her back?

“Not all of them.” The accusation hangs in the air, Nihil’s hands tight on her hips through the silk of the dress. The heat of his palm almost scalds her, he burns as hot as the sun, a constant inferno that scorches her when she touches him. It burrows into her flesh, finding nirvana in the way he fits inside her. The thought is swiftly cut off as he sighs into her ear, the shell warming with the outtake of breath. She doesn’t move.

“Si, not all of them. Concerts can be stressful, after parties and such. But do I not come back to your bed?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Imperator yanked herself out of his grip. She walks across the room, looking into the dressers of the cabinet for her purse. She could just get her purse and walk out, back to the hotel. As soon as this Ghost Project was over, she could go back to her comfortable office and deal with this from the back burner. No more Nihil, no more bastard children, no more goddamned groupies.

“Indeed you do.” The words grind out of her mouth like a knife on stone, slamming the drawer closed and straightening up from where she had been crouched down. The heels click against the floor quickly, and she gasps once she feels the warmth of his torso pushed against hers, her back pushed against the dresser quickly. She can feel the ledge of the small desk pushed against the small of her back. Sister looks up towards him, the placid look on her face crumbling into something sour, and surly, and she has to stop herself from pushing him away and leaving without her purse.

The words had never been said aloud by her. Late nights where she imagined Nihil fucking her with abandon, taking her from behind and treating her like one of the sweet little things that came to pray at his altar. It lingered in the atmosphere until she saw a scene like earlier, like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter until the middle burned hot from heat. White hot heat settled in between the space between her and Nihil, in the impasse of their stares. Always looking, across a room or when she kissed the overstimulated tears from below his eyes in the night.

There is understanding finally in his eyes. The crystal clear realization that maybe his actions did matter, through the smoke and haze of the lights above him as he sang and crooned to women who had never even conceptualized an existence beyond a white picket fence. Maybe he had finally crossed the line that had always been there.

(Maybe, everything has always been filled with maybes between the two of them).

“ Innamorata… Maybe I have not been so attentive.” He says softly, his gaze never wavers. That infernal eye never moves from its impassive gaze. His hands grip her waist, and she glares. She feels it like a warm hand against her throat, and she banishes the thought.

“Attentive? There are things you want… an inexperienced fuck in a cheap hotel room with a fan that doesn’t even know where her clit is. By all means, go for it.” She spits out, the words scraping out of her throat by the fine edge of a knife: the same knife has plunged into her back countless times during this tour. Pardoned by their own lord, sanctified in blood and sin, and here they were.

“Oh? You think I don’t smell it, tesoro? It’s dripping off of you.” His hand slides from her hip to her cunt, a gasp ripping itself from her throat as he cups it softly through her dress. She knows him, knows the way his eye glows, the way his cock is pressed against her leg and how it throbs hot, hard, natural. Oh, and it feels good. Feels, she finds, even better as he rubs the palm of his hand against it.

“Dripping off of you, dripping out of you? I can think of many things I want to fill you with.” Nihil chisels a space into the emptiness between them, rasping out a groan into her neck as the silk of her dress catches on slick between her legs. She should push him away, but it feels too good to have him take the lead. It’s burning, hotter than the fires of hell they pledge to have when they leave this mortal plane. When it all burns down, it is always captivating and aposematic.

Through the back and forth of his hand Imperator can feel him lean forward, his mouth latching onto the soft molten skin of her neck. He lifts his other hand not busied with the soft skin below, grabbing the burning flesh of her breast. She has to stop this, take control. She isn’t a woman begging to be let backstage, flashing her tits at the bouncer and hoping that he’ll press his face between her legs. His mouth is an ember compared to the blaze in his eyes, lavascapes in the stark whiteness of blue and white. She could burn, she realized, but she leans into the hand pressing into her softest places.

Papa’s mouth is soft against the dewy skin of Sister’s neck, the paint so delicately applied earlier is no doubt a parting gift against the paleness of her skin. His breath ghosts against her skin, pulling away. And she pouts at the loss, ichor rushing through her veins. She never quite understood the meaning of hunger until she met Nihil, a hunger for a man and not power. He rips open a vacuum inside of her, a festering hole that is utterly insatiable. A constant ache that drives her delirious with the urge to consume him with her gaping maw. Rapacious charm, never full.

“How long have you wanted this? For me to take you like a slut?” The words drag over his tongue, and she’s alarmed by the moan pushing its way from her mouth. No, this has never happened. A step closer, her blood burns. The green feeling in her stomach has uprooted itself, destroyed in the endless warmth of his gaze. From where it had been clotted in her throat, for months upon months on tour, and it’s gone.

He smiles, leaning down and finally taking her mouth in his. His lips are firm, pressing against hers with a deliberate force that she hasn’t experienced. Is this what these women have been packing at the door for? They had surely kissed, but it was her biting and forcing her way into the soft cavern of his mouth. But at this moment, his mouth doesn’t rest. She presses against him, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. Her hands shake around his neck, the pulsing of wetness and warmth between her legs dizzying. It jars her, head gummy and full of sin. These women wanted this.

Their mouths press together, Nihil’s tongue pushing against hers in a sloppy push and pull of slickness. He tastes like sin, cigarettes and the heady tang of peppermint gum. He’s rough, a palpable hunger that pulls the last threads of jealousy from her mind. Papa pulls away, his eyes sharper than Sister had ever seen them. A yawning abyss of knowledge, and then she remembers. Women came to him for a reason, an unknown that would snap at the tips of their fingers if they got too close. And Nihil smiles, his hips pushing against hers and a sigh falling past his parted lips. It’s messy, adrenaline from onstage clearly pulsing through the fog of his mind.

“Do I interest you? Is that why you haven’t set me aside?” His voice is harsh, his eyes lidded and heavy.

“I could ask the same.” Her head is a slurry of pleasure, her clit throbbing where it meets the harsh bulge of his cock and the back and forth of silk against her body. It’s messy, less defined than anything she had ever allowed to happen. The backstage fumblings of curious women and-

“Shush.” He makes a noise, condescending and somehow sweet like a cocktail at the dingy bars they had performed at. It punches into her, makes her gasp. Her hips stutter, she’s never seen a sight more damning. If she had been more stupid, she could imagine herself in a crowd. Peering up at him, a smile tugging at her lips and watching him thrust against the mic stand. And by Satan, she realizes it. The brutality of it makes her crush her lips against his, tongue sliding against the wetness of his own slippery muscle. There is embarrassment of course, and there is shame. But she wants it, the horrible emptiness inside of her that wants to let him treat her like a slut. A groupie begging on her knees, her back, for his tongue and cock to complete her.

His hands return to her hips, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. The embers spar, blazing, when he deepens the kiss and presses the bulge of his cock into her pussy. She shivers, a whole body chill that has her breaking the kiss and moaning into the air. “Please.” It’s a plea, a whimper that she has never once spoken aloud to Nihil. And the way he chuckles, biting her lip with ravenous hunger that reminds her of the blood that courses through his veins, has her pushing back against him. She can’t resist, she wouldn’t even try.

“Oh, please?” His voice sings, a derisive coo that makes her keen. He pulls back, his hands lifting her dress to reveal the pale pink briefs beneath. Nihil crouches, kneeling before her and running his hands over her soft thighs. A sigh, and a kiss pressed against the pliable porcelain before him. He had spent hours before, his head pressed between her thighs while she gripped his hair in a domineering grip as she took her pleasure from him. But now simply gripped the edges of the table, her wide eyes meeting his as he grazes his knuckles against the soft skin. Nihil sighs, shaking his head.

“Have you thought about my head between their legs, tesoro?” The question is clipped, a grin on his face as he lets his palm glide up and down her legs. A hesitant nod, and her legs quake as Papa Nihil presses a kiss to her inner thigh. He lathes his tongue over the small scar at the influx of her thigh. Another whimper pours out as he peppers kisses against her, and she can’t tear her eyes away from his cocky grin. She should hate this, should be pulling him away and reprimanding him for taking control. But with the way he grips her thighs and the way she drips onto the table, she knows she loves this. Sister mewls as Nihil inches further, his eyes meeting her own.

“I will take my pleasure from you the same as I do from them.” He murmurs, his mouth latching onto her skin. Her hands grip into the desk tightly, keening as he meets her gaze. “A powerful woman, la mia dea. But a slut all the same, begging for my cock.” He growls, and she moans as he presses the flat arch of his painted nose against her clit, his tongue tracing circles into the slickness of her pussy.

Moans fill the silence of the room, muffled groaning and the slick movement of his mouth against her creating a back and forth cacophony of sin. Nihil’s hands against her thighs continue their back and forth as he takes his fill, his eyes closed in satisfaction. Sister whines as the sucking against her clit intensifies, his tongue swiping against her entrance. The hand against her leg moves, a finger dropping and dipping lightly at her dripping cunt, lightly swirling around the slickness collecting there. She bites her lip, catching the moan that bubbles out of her throat at the way he slurps at her cunt.

His eyes shoot open, meeting her own with his mismatched gaze. He pulls back, his mouth unlatching from her pulsing clit while his fingers continue toying with her. “Don’t keep your noises from me, I want to hear.” Papa’s finger slides inside, and Sister chokes out a gasp. “Do you think these women hold back their pleasure? Have you not pulled similar noises from me while you choke down my cock, tesoro? ” She should be angry, she thinks to herself, but she can hardly think after he pushes two fingers into her utterly drenched entrance. He grazes a knuckle against a spot inside her, a high moan punching out of her throat as her walls flutter around him.

“Nihil, I-” Sister Imperator gasps, her lips swollen and her lipstick rubbed off even earlier than now. He pulls his fingers away, and she moans in complaint. His eyes blaze with ire, his frown making her stomach clench in distraught anticipation. He rubs his fingers over her entrance, toying with the slick collected there.

Nihil shakes his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her clit. “That is not my name. What am I called?” She whines, thinking back to the times they’ve fucked. It had been either Nihil, slut, or even my love. Never had it been-

“Papa.” She whispers, his lips raising in appreciation. To everyone else, it’s Papa. His fingers slide back inside, the curls of his breath over her soaked pussy making her eyes roll back. Her hair knocking against the wall was probably a mess, her once perfect beehive now more of a honeycomb. While his tongue sucks against her raised clit, his fingers continue to coax burning pleasure that made her thighs shake. She can feel her lips are bitten raw, her knees pressed against her chest and exposing herself to him entirely. She should blush, she’s sure everyone else does, but his huffs and moans of pleasure persuade her to moan.

She whimpers, and all thoughts are stuck in the burning mess in her head, rendered out into ashes and into cries for Papa, for more. It’s all a puddle of bliss, including her. His fingers brush against a spot inside that makes her cry out, a wail that she’s sure can be heard outside of the room. The thought is knocked out of her head as the pads of his fingers bump into it again, coupled with Papa’s tongue swiping against her bud. Oh, how she needed this, for him to just show that he knew how to please.

She feels his lips curl against her clit and a muffled chuckle that makes her gasp, Coy, sweet, the type of mocking grin that he shot the crowd at the end of his show. He pulls back, fingers pistoning against her fluttering pussy, “Are you going to cum already, cara ? I thought you were a seasoned slut, opening your legs for any man with an ounce of talent?” He chuckles darkly, timbre drenched in sex and promise. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing in a defiant glare that dissolves as he begins to softly lap at her clit. Sister wants to scoff, to roll her eyes but the breadth of his shoulders spreading her legs wide and the ministrations on her cunt cut the words on her tongue short.

He circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping softly and moaning against it as he closes his eyes. The makeup around his mouth is smeared, his lips shining with her slick and his spit. His mouth is molten, and she can feel her weeping hole clench around his fingers. It’s hot, the high collar of her dress collecting sweat. It’s messy, the opposite of the nakedness she was used to with him. Debauched, wanton, desperate for him. The desperation is tangible.

“Show me how much you want my cock.” He growls into her cunt, nuzzling his cheek into her thigh as his fingers increase their speed. Imperator moans, her thighs shaking as she feels her climax approach much more quickly than usual. At the speed of his fingers, she can feel the delicious burn of pleasure that nears so deliciously into pain, a wire pulled taut and begging to be released. She arches, canting her hips greedily into his mouth. If he weren't so intent on making her cum, she’s sure he would be grinning like the damn dirty tease he is.

A particular curl of his fingers sends her over the edge, his tongue laving over her clit and his fingers fucking dangerously harshly against the sweet spot inside of her that has her choking out a moan. She can feel the rings of cum wetting her thighs, the spit that coats her lower half. She can’t help but whimper when she crests the wave, an embarrassing litany of pleads for her Papa, a melted husk of a woman drunk on the high of her orgasm.

Sister can feel the way he presses kisses into her thighs, the way his fingers have been pulled out of her and she cries at the need for him inside of her. Nothing where she rides him for control, where he begs and whimpers for her to let him cum. She lets her eyes fall open, a quavering moan from her mouth whenever she witnesses him suck her cum from his fingers. His eyes blaze as he stands above her, his mouth stretched wide into a grin that makes her heart swell.

Sister’s eyes flick down, where his bulge pushes against the black leather of his bellbottoms. Her hands shoot forward and reach for the laces, if not a bit clumsily trying to pick apart the laces. She knows he aches for it, and can feel him twitching against the confines of his trousers. His hand drops down, and Papa smiles down at her with a fond, if not condescending, smirk.

Her hands pull the laces apart, a joined moan between the two of them as his swollen cock pops out. The head of his cock is red, smeared with sticky spend at the tip that aids her as she begins to pump him leisurely. He sighs, a hand gathering in her hair as she looks up at him. “You do such a good job pleasing Papa, you know?” She nods quickly, her hand not slowing. Just as she finds a rhythm, his hands have shot out to stop her. The hardness of his cock in her hand makes the emptiness inside her known, aching even. He steps between her legs, craning her head upward towards him.

“Will you let Papa fuck you?” He whispers, stepping forward to rub his cock against her soaked folds. A whine forces its way from her throat. God, she just wants him, any way at any time. To say she’s been denying it would be an understatement. She needed him, wanted him near her always. It’s easy to worship him, she thinks to herself through the delirious haze of his weight against her cunt. Easy to kiss offerings into his skin, sing a hymn of praise into the dips of his neck.

“Yes, Papa.” A whisper, heavy and breathless. The way she addresses him makes him moan helplessly, and there’s nowhere else to burn eternally than with one another. Leaning closer, the head of his cock nudges inside her, popping in with such ease that it makes the both of them pause in the sheer buzz of skin on skin. Sister leans back, allowing herself to moan as she feels the heavy weight of him inside her. Nihil chokes on his gasp, pushing slowly inside of her. The head of his dick pushing against something soft in her cunt that makes her clench around him with a whimper.

The cloying feeling of him on top of her, inside her, makes her keen. Why had she fought this for so long, for the treatment he gave other women? The very feeling of him inside her is dizzying, the way he hovers above her with a self satisfied smile makes her match it. The fuzzy feeling in her stomach returns, her heart lifting from the well it had drifted to earlier. Control was something she had vied for, and couldn't let go. The ebb and sway of how he would let her control him, and this is where he got his kicks. Maybe now he could find his respite within her as well.

Nihil moans, rolling his hips into hers in a way that makes her eyes roll back. The thrusts are slow, a back and forth that knocks the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. Each time he retreats he comes back home, the tip of his cock kissing the place inside of her that makes her legs lock around his waist tightly. Strings of pleasure lick up her spine, her nipples hard underneath the fabric of her dress. She can smell the heady smell of sex in the air, the wetness between the two of them slick in the cool air of the dressing room. Maybe everyone would hear, hear how he fucked her like a woman, like any woman out there in the crowd.

His hair is soft beneath her hands, moussed from the sweat of the stage and his lingering adrenaline and the many times she had already gripped it in the space between the two of them.

“So good for me, you take me so well Sister,” He whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against her lips in a salacious lick against bitten lips. He tips his head forward as Sister clenches around him, his thrusts grinding his cock into her pussy in a way that makes white hot pleasure tickle her spine. She combs over his face, his perfectly debauched makeup sliding down the smoothness of his skin. A thought passes about what he may look like when he’s older, how the makeup will pool in a similar way perhaps.

As she clenches around him his dick twitches in agreement, his eyes lidded in pleasure as he continues to fuck her. A hazardous grin spreads across his smeared lips when he catches her gaze, his eyes sweeping over her bent form as he continues to fuck her, spread out and stretched over his thick cock. Anyone can hear her, she realizes, can hear how badly she wants her Papa to fill her cunt, to make her cum, how good he is at making women achieve hedonistic pleasure. A star frontman, an experienced lover.

He grins, and she can feel his cock brush against a soft spot inside of her that makes her positively wail. His hand drops from where it’s clenched around her thigh, thumb swiping over her clit and she groans, needy and breathless. Sister’s hips work with his own, Nihil’s hips knocking against the silky walls of her cunt. His head brushes deep, her back arching in pleasure that makes her quiver in a profoundly intense ache. As his hand works over her throbbing clit and his hips batter against the meat of her ass, Nihil leans over. A kiss pressed to her neck, a stream of moans into her ear dredged up from a place of love and desperation.

“Will you cum for me?” A whisper into her ear, a fervent nod answered back. Her heart flutters, a taut softness as she feels her toes curl. It pinches taut as he angles his hips, tendrils of pleasure as he pushes his cock further in. In a moment like this, she couldn’t give a damn about a groupie, some faithless devotee. The devotion is right here and right now, between the one at the altar and the abnormality present.

“Please. I want to be your whore,” Sister whispers, haze filling the curtain of her gaze as she feels the pleasure ratcheting higher and higher. Papa Nihil feels similarly, she knows this, the desperate high moans against her neck as he visibly fights the urge to call out for her like normal.

A vicious swipe against her clit sends her over, liquid bliss spuming deep within her and setting her off. The rhythmic clenching of her softness around his cock makes him gasp, his breath choked in her throat as he cums deep inside her. She sighs, eyes slipping closed as he sighed against her neck. Her hands rose to his back, slow careful swipes of her hands on his shirt as he heaved for air.

The air was warm, and she could feel their shared spend dripping down from her hole onto the floor. The sickly green feeling in her stomach was gone, filled with the deliciously delightful feeling of Nihil in her arms, his hands warm against her waist. When he quiets by the end of her gentle petting, the mushy misty eyed look in her eyes won��t leave. An odd juxtaposition for a woman who could bring Nihil down to size in a matter of moments.

“You don’t suppose I could have a cigarette after this?” She mumbled, smiling softly as she heard a muffled laugh against her neck. Pulling back, they looked at one another. His makeup was ruined, as was hers most likely. Though they still had the drive back to the hotel to fare with, nothing delighted her more than knowing she could curl up in bed delightfully moisturized and nestled against Nihil. And looking into his eyes, she knew he was just as enchanted at the ending of their night together. His hand drifted to her cheek, his eyes soft in a way that made her stomach flip.

“Never again, Genevieve. I promise.” And she knew he wasn’t talking about cigarettes. He whispered, a delicate kiss pressed against the tip of her nose. His hand was warm, and she leaned into the soft embrace of it against her dreadfully sweaty cheek. Although her heart jumped at her given name, the irony of it in her current religion a mockery to her sensibilities, Sister sighed.

The sickly feeling of envy an ever looming fear now, she knew she could push through. Though he had two children now, the fear of a third, even a fourth was gone. He was hers, and she was his, even through the possibility of another Prime Mover. Satan forbid a groupie try to coax their way into his pants in the future.

The thought passed with a drop of disdain in her eyes, and a smile making its way onto her kiss swollen lips. All these months of sweat soaked nights on a bumpy bus, a hand held out in a busy afterparty, the soft breath against her neck as she held him close. A hand held in another hand with care, with no fear to be found.

“Of course. Never again.”

#the band ghost #ghost the band #my writing #mdni #sister imperator #young sister imperator #papa nihil #young papa nihil #papa nihil x sister imperator #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #rite here rite now #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #the other two haven't been popped out yet

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tatertotsafterdark · 1 year ago

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Marking - Scott Howl x Reader

18+ MDNI. READ “CONTAINS” SECTION BEFORE READING.

|| Being a struggling college student sucks. Luckily, your werewolf boyfriend doesn't mind helping you de-stress - even if he gets a little too into it.

CONTAINS: AFAB READER, GIVING!SCOTT, RECEIVING!READER, BITING, MARKING, HICKEYS, OVER THE CLOTHES, NO AFTERCARE, MENTIONS OF MIDTERMS

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: IK I switched this fic from what was planned at the last minute but shhhhh... tried to put some characteristics of the Monster Prom writing style but I don't know how successful that was. Based mainly off the first Monster Prom game. (Ignore how the gif is monster roadtrip okay byeeee have fun reading or don't)

Midterms, midterms, midterms. Jesus fucking Christ. That’s all your life has been for the last few weeks, working on gradually revising your notes and studying for those God forsaken tests, worth a part of your grade that’s way too big. You slam your flat palms onto the desk in your small apartment, giving it a good couple of smacks. You’re frustrated, unable to grasp the topic you’re reading through. Why the hell did you have to take a math class? You hated math. Your major didn’t really use math, either.

You groan as you hear a knock at the door, lifting yourself on to tired legs. Who visits this late at night, especially when you have a giant sign on your apartment door labeled “DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE?” You’d think by now people would catch on to your witty ideas of decoration and lack of availability. Maybe studying for midterms wouldn’t be so hard if you’d stop making interior design into your impromptu passion.

Your hand quickly twists the knob, without giving much thought to check if there was some kind of evil monster or a serial killer or a Jehovah Witness outside of your door. Luckily, it’s none of those - it’s Scott! You manage a smile as his tail wags, and step aside, nonverbally inviting him inside. You can do that since he’s not a vampire. He quickly enters, wrapping his muscular arms around you.

“Dude, where have you been?!” He yells out, a large and toothy smile plastered on his face. You can practically hear his tail wagging, and you can definitely hear it hitting into his backside as it wags.

“Studying.” You reply, returning the hug weakly and shuffling back over to the living room, lit only by a singular lamp (setting the aesthetic is an important part of studying, after all). You didn’t realize it until now, but your desk was piled with sticky notes, flashcards, notebooks, highlighters, pens in every color under the sun, and empty energy drink cans.

“Studying? Who even studies anymore?” Scott cocks his head, making that stupid-yet-so-damn-cute face at you like he always did when he was questioning your totally normal decisions.

“I mean, c’mon, when was the last time you got some sun, bro? Your curtains are never open.” Scott says, a small pout on his lips as he looks down at you. You opt to ignore the comment about your currents, and instead huff and walk over to your desk.

“It doesn’t matter when I last left my apartment or opened the windows or anything like that. What’s important right now is that I teach myself everything my professor has been trying to teach us for the past few weeks.” Your ass hits the office chair a bit hard, which sends it backwards. The back of your chair hits Scott’s front, stopping it in its place.

“You haven’t even showed up to the gym recently! You’re not getting any exercise.”

“I’m not interested in exercising. I want to pass these dumbass exams, Scott. Plus, there isn’t an exercise in the world that I actually like.”

“Yes there is, bro, you know that.”

“Great, Scott, then go ahead and tell me because you definitely know me better than I know myself.” You roll your eyes, and the action could probably be heard just off of the nasty tone you dip down into using. Swapping sleep for caffeine isn’t good for your mood, note to self.

“Well, Polly says that sex burns calories, so therefore, it’s exercise.”

You freeze up for a moment, thinking about the implications of the sentence that just slipped out of Scott’s lips. Was he implying that you two-?

Before you can think much longer, one of Scott’s large hands is slowly massaging your chest, and the other is in between your thighs. He may be a bit academically challenged, but at least he wouldn’t be totally lost in an anatomy class. You can’t help but lean into the touch. It’d been ages since you’d gotten any action, even before you started obsessing over getting good grades on your midterms. Scott’s large fingers rubbing slow circles over your clit is enough to melt your brain, getting it off of finding derivatives, even if it was only for a temporary amount of time.

“Shit- don’t stop- please.” You manage to get your voice to work in between pathetic squeaks and whimpers, and Scott simply speeds up in response to your words. You close your eyes, soaking in the much needed feeling of human contact. Two of Scott’s fingers find their way to the hard bud that’s developed under your shirt, gently twisting and pinching it as your moans get louder.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, and before long, you feel fangs on the tender flesh. Love bites are completely welcome, of course, so you don’t complain. You run your fingers through his hair as he finishes you off, giving you much needed release without so much as undressing you.

“There, bro! Now you’ve got your daily workout in. Your studying is going to be way easier now.” Scott says with a proud smile, turning your office chair around to face him. The way his face drops, you can tell he’s totally marked up your entire neck to the point even a turtleneck wouldn’t be enough to hide it. Oh, shit.

“Well… a workout is exactly what I needed. Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime, dude! Just, uh, make sure you have that color corrector stuff you were talking about the one time.” Scott laughs, turning on his heel and walking to your kitchen. You rub your fingers over the bite marks, and the fact that they’re indented into your skin is enough to tell you that any amount of color corrector wouldn’t be enough anyway. They trail up to just below your ear, so you’ll just have to hide away in your room and study for a few more days until they fade.

You take a deep breath, turning away from Scott as he opens your fridge, and picking up one of your colorful pens for the umpteenth time that evening.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober2023 #x reader #mdni #Scott howl #monster prom #stressed student trope

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callsigndragon · 2 years ago

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Seeing Red | Ch. 51: Checkmate (Part II)

Wordcount: 5.3k (I KNOW I'M SORRY)

Warnings: guns, drug, blood, mentions of jake's grandpa beign murdered, DEATH, more guns, more violence, mama bear red queen is here~.

A/N: I decided that the next chapter will be the epilogue and also the start of Rooster and Ash's story. Epilogue will be out tomorrow!

Follow @jinxlibrary for updates. Masterlist on pinned!

The tunnel is dark, humid, and smells like death. Maybe some animals have tried to find refuge here over the years, perishing between the dark passageways, unable to find a way out.

It doesn't take long to find the stone spiral stairs with their small and slick steps. The stairs go up into the house, but for you, it feels like a direct descent into hell.

“No talking from now on.” Jake orders, and you nod, following him upstairs. You place your hand on his shoulder, so he knows that you’re behind him.

The stairs lead to a secret door in the pantry. It’s perfect, you think. Gregory doesn’t look like the type of guy who spends time in the kitchen. Jake opens the door that leads to the kitchen slightly, peeking to see if there’s some household employee on the other side. But the kitchen is completely empty, the lights are turned off, and not a single noise can be heard.

“This is bad,” Jake whispers, lowering his arm once he steps into the kitchen. “Gregory always wants someone in the kitchen in case he wants a midnight snack.”

“Does he have someone working here at night?”

“He has three different chefs. Eight-hour shifts.”

“This guy is absolutely bonkers.”

“You have no idea.”

You move around the ground floor of the mansion, trying to find someone or something that might be an indication that Liam is here. But there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Where the fuck is he?” Jake mutters, looking around the big living room. It’s like one of those living rooms from an interior design magazine, white furniture, black sofas, glass tables…

But not a single family picture. That says a lot about a man.

“Did you play chess with your father when you were a kid?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Why?”

“Was there any special place where you played?” You inquire, noticing his eyes widen in recognition.

“His office.”

“Take us there.”

Jake leads the way, moving quickly to the second floor. You try your best to calm your beating heart, taking deep breaths to try and regularize your heartbeat. It’s the only thing you can hear at the moment. And you need all your senses to work correctly for this.

The office is at the end of a hallway, the door is open, and you can see a man in his late fifties or early sixties sitting behind an old, dark wooden desk.

Gregory St. James, ladies and gentlemen.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you, Jacob.”

You both point your guns in his direction, Jake is one step ahead of you. “Where’s my son, Gregory?”

“In here. Come in.” Gregory smiles, getting up from his chair and buttoning the jacket of his royal blue suit. That jacket must cost more than you earn in a month.

Placing your hand again on Jake’s shoulder, both of you move inside the office, and your eyes dart around the room, trying to find the blonde locks of your baby. You find him laying down in a chaise longue, his body turned in an unnatural way.

“Liam?”

He’s not moving. No. No. No. No. No. No.

“What have you done to my son?” Jake yells, pointing his finger at Gregory.

“Relax, he’s just anesthetized. Jacob, you need to be more strict with your son, he doesn’t know how to follow orders.” Gregory tuts his tongue, and you have to take a deep breath and not pull the trigger right there and then. “We had to put him to sleep.”

“Let me check if he’s alive.” You grunt, locking eyes with him.

Gregory chuckles. “Look at that, if it’s the legendary Red Queen! Did you get my gift? I ordered a new chess set with red pieces just for you.”

You swallow, your knuckles going white the more you tighten your grip around the gun. “I don’t have time for games, Gregory. Let me check if my son is okay, we’ll talk all you want later.”

“Hmmm. Vlad!”

Vlad appears behind you, you don’t know where he’s coming from, but he has his revolver pressed against Jake’s neck. “Hello, Jacob.”

“And here I thought I would never have to see that disgusting face again.” Jake mumbles, dropping his gun on the floor. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“Red, could you please drop your gun, too? You don’t want Jacob to end up with a bullet in his head, right?” You stare at Gregory, lowering your gun.

“It doesn’t seem fair to me that your guy is the only one having a gun here.” You reply, sliding the gun into the holster you carry on your belt. “I’ll keep it for now.”

Gregory tilts his head. “Fair enough. Check on your kid and then take a seat.” He knows that even if you carry your gun around, Jake will be dead before you have time to pull it out again. He’s not worried about that. You’re not a menace.

You go to Liam, kneeling down in front of the chaise longue and checking Liam’s pulse. It’s beating. He’s just asleep. You look around his body, looking for any injury he might have, but he’s fine. Not a single scratch.

Just like you told Jake. Gregory needs Liam. He can’t hurt him.

You shift his position to prevent him from waking up in pain and kiss his brow. “Mama will get you out of here, little prince.”

“Enough, Red.” Gregory moves the chair in front of his desk, and you hear the distinctive sound of a revolver being cocked. Vlad is giving you a silent warning: If you follow orders, nobody dies.

You get up, lumber to the chair, and sit down. You can feel Jake’s eyes on you, but you can’t look at him. There’s a game to be played, and you can’t allow yourself to break down. Not now.

“Well, the whole family is complete!” Gregory sits, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Jake has a gun on his neck, Liam is knocked out, and you feel like this is something to celebrate? You should seek professional help.” You cross your legs, looking at the desk in front of you. There’s a chess board in front of you, all the pieces are missing except three. There’s the white king, and a white pawn behind him. Gregory and Liam. In front of the king, there’s a red knight. Jake.

And the only piece that’s missing is you. The red queen.

“So, you get in my house in the middle of the night, weapons in hand, and try to steal my grandson away from me.” Gregory starts, grabbing the king piece and twirling it around his fingers.

“He’s not your grandson.” Jake roars through gritted teeth.

“He has my blood. He’s a St. James.”

“Your blood? I’m pretty sure that you weren’t the one that got me pregnant.”

Gregory chuckles. “Shouldn’t you have been named Joker?”

“It was taken, sadly.” You reply, looking to your side when you notice Liam’s hand moving. Good, he’s waking up. But you need to get him out of here. “Gregory, we’ve followed your rules. You wanted us to come, we’re here. Cut the cameras.”

“Straight to the point, huh?” Gregory looks between you and Jake, observing how his eyes never leave your figure. “Seeing that my son doesn’t want to make a deal with me, I’ll do business with you. One of the boys needs to stay here; you choose which one.”

You can feel the blood boiling under your skin. How are you supposed to choose between them? Obviously, the first instinct is to get Liam out of here. But leaving Jake behind? It’s something that you didn’t even want to consider.

You must carefully consider your next move.

“How can I know that you won’t follow me and my son if I leave Jake here with you?” You question, looking around the office carefully. There’s no other possible entrance than the door behind you. On your left side, right behind Jake, there’s a large floor-to-ceiling window that allows you to see the other houses in the vicinity. On the other side, to your right, there’s a wall bookcase but no door. If you left with Liam, found a safe place to hide the child, and then returned to get Jake, you'll have to enter through the same door you left through. Gregory will see you, and goodbye to the element of surprise.

“I’ll have what I want already. I wouldn’t need you or your son. You could choke and die for all I care.”

“Well, thank you.” You snort, your gaze fixed on Jake. He nods, telling you without words that you need to get Liam and leave the house. He needs to know that at least you two are safe.

He escaped once, he can do it again.

“I’ll take Liam.” With your eyes closed and waves of nausea attacking your stomach, you make your decision. It’s not because of the pregnancy; it’s just the idea of having to leave Jake here with this psychopath.

“Leave your gun on the desk before you leave. I don’t want any surprises.” You get the gun out of the holster, dropping it on the desk and hoping that the impact will make the gun shoot itself. But it doesn’t happen.

You walk over to the chaise longue, grab Liam, and hug him tightly, inhaling the cologne residue on his clothes. He’s okay, he’s safe. You have him back.

But what did it cost you?

Everything.

You close your eyes, forcing the tears to come out. Let him think that you’re not as strong as you seem to be. Let them think that you’re just a weak, emotional, and scared mother who has been trying to play something she’s not to get her child back.

And then you’ll prove them wrong.

When the tears fall, you look at Gregory. “Can I please hug your son before I go? Just a quick hug, please.”

Gregory smiles, pleased with himself at the fact that the Red Queen herself is begging him. “Vlad.”

Jake runs to you once Vlad lowers the revolver, hugging you and Liam so close it physically hurts. He leaves kisses all over his face, checking, just like he did, that he doesn’t have a single scratch. “You need to leave now, sweets.”

You don’t need to fake the tears anymore. “I can’t leave you here, Jake.”

He shushes you, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “It’s okay. We’ll see each other soon. I promise you.”

He hugs you again, one last time, whispering in your ear. “I love you, my queen.”

“I’ll come back for you.” You whisper in return. taking a few steps backwards and glancing one last time in Gregory's direction. Keep playing the weak woman, Red. “Thank you, sir. I’ll leave now. Just… take care of him, please.”

“I will do it; don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s a pity, you know. You’ll make such a good spouse for my son.”

You ignore his comment, leaving the room quickly. Each step you take towards the main door feels like someone is throwing knives at your heart. You're leaving behind your husband, the love of your life, and the father of your son. He’s left behind with the only person he hates and fears at the same time.

But you’ll come back for him. You just need time.

When you’re close to the main entrance, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out, and read the message. Only one word, but it gives you all the hope you need.

Outside

You run to the door, open it in a swift motion, and the face you see on the other side almost makes you cry again.

“I could kiss you right now if you weren’t my cousin.” You say, looking at DiNozzo and McGee. “Doc told you?”

“Yeah, as soon as you told her to tell me where you were going, we got into the car and drove.” DiNozzo looks at Liam, moving his hair out of his face. “Is he okay?”

“Gregory drugged him. Listen, I need you to take him.”

“What?” McGee asks, looking at you as if you had grown a second head. “You’re not going back inside.”

“He’s in his office, Vlad is pointing a revolver against Jake’s head, and I’m not letting you two idiots go in there and risk your life.”

Tony places his hands on your shoulders, leaning down to make eye contact with you. “Red, you can’t go back there. He’s a bad guy. He would kill you.”

“No, Tony. That’s where you’re wrong.” You shake your head, trying to get your words together and explain everything as fast as you can so you can go save your husband. “He never pulls the trigger.”

“Well, a lot of mafia bosses don’t do that either, and that-”

You cut DiNozzo’s rambling. “He’s a coward. The only guy that worries me in that room is the one that is pointing a gun at Jake’s head. Just call the SWAT, bring a sniper, or whatever. If you go to the neighbor’s house’s terrace, you’ll have a clear view of the office. Vlad and Jake are in front of the window; it should be easy to just shoot a bullet to his head.”

Both of them look at you, surprised and amazed by all the important information that you just gave them. “Your plan was to go inside and collect all the information you could, right?”

You nod, looking at Liam. “And try to leave with Liam, if possible. That’s what we do, Tony. We collect information, make a briefing, and prepare the plan. Well, I just gave you the plan. Now, take Liam.”

“But wait, what are you gonna do?” Tony panics when you hand him Liam’s sleepy body.

“Buy you time. Maybe even get a confession.” You kiss Liam’s head and turn to McGee. “Give me your gun.”

“No fucking way I’m letting you go inside.”

“McGee!”

“No, Red. It’s a suicide.”

“I mean,” Tony starts, ignoring McGee’s glare. “We called a sniper. It shouldn’t take long for him to arrive.”

“See? You just need time.”

Tony moves Liam to the side, and McGee, seeing him struggling, decides to just carry him. “Thanks, McGoo. Take my gun and my earpiece. We can communicate with you when the sniper arrives.”

You grab the gun and the tiny earpiece that he hands you, pushing it inside your ear. “We need a mic.”

“Here.” He pulls his own out of his jacket, hiding the wiring inside the vest. “I have another one in my car, keep this one.”

“Do I have permission to shoot?”

“Make him pay a bit.”

You nod, cocking the gun, and look at Liam one last time. “If something happens, take him with Maverick. He’ll know what to do.”

“Nothing will happen, Red.” McGee tries to reassure you, but at this point you can’t believe in those words anymore. You said those same words to Jake, and look where you are.

“I have to go. Take care of him, please.”

You turn around, facing the door you just walked out of, but with a completely different sensation in your body. You’re not running away anymore, you’re now facing that evil king, who has Jake imprisoned.

Gregory doesn’t know what he's gotten himself into. He had seen Red, pretty much like the rest of your family. But nobody has seen the Red Queen.

It’s time to unleash her.

Jake observes his father walking around the office, opening one of his desk drawers and pulling out a glass and a bottle of ambar liquid. Whiskey. His father’s favorite.

“You want, son?” Gregory offers, with a content smile on his face. He really thinks he has won.

“I’d rather dehydrate, thank you so much.”

Gregory shakes his head in disappointment. “Jacob, Jacob, Jacob, you and I are going to be together for a long time. It’s time for you to accept it, or I’ll have to make you accept it.”

“You don’t have anything to use against me anymore.”

Gregory laughs, getting up from his chair and walking towards him, drinking from his glass of whiskey. “You really think I’m going to let that whore raise a St. James? Jacob, I raised you better than that.”

Jake spits on his face. “Don’t call her a whore. And you never raised me. You hired private teachers. It’s not the same.”

Gregory wipes his face with the red handkerchief that he has on his jacket. “Pathetic. Make him sit, Vlad.”

“It’s time now for you to return to the place you were supposed to occupy so many years ago, before you got in your head that silly idea of wanting to fly planes. Son, if you wanted to pretend to be a pilot, I could have bought you a plane! No need to run away and become a soldier.”

Vlad pushes Jake from the window to the desk, sitting him in the same chair that Red occupied just a minute before. He could have disarmed Vlad easily, but he couldn't risk Vlad pulling the trigger with Liam in the room. Or with his wife. He can try to get a gun now, though. He's alone. He's the only one that can get hurt.

“I didn’t want to pretend. I am a pilot. And you have no idea how many times I had to fly to another country and kill the people you had armed."

Gregory chuckles, patting his son’s head. “Well, that only made them buy more weapons. Thank you for making me even more rich than I was”

It’s futile. This guy is so full of himself, that he doesn’t care. He thinks he has won, that he has managed to get what he wanted. But Jake only needs time. Time to escape.

Make him talk. That will give you time.

“Did you make Vlad join the Navy so you could control me?”

“We only need to falsify some papers. It’s so damned easy to pretend to be someone you’re not in this country.” Vlad chuckles, acknowledging how he infiltrated on his base just to control him. The thought of him being followed for months makes him sick.

“You knew that I had a son, and you never told me?” Jake asks, looking at the gun in front of him—the one that Gregory made you leave behind. He could grab it and use it, but Vlad takes it in his hands before Jake can even move a finger in its direction.

“I was hoping that she told you sooner, so your life would be a bit more miserable, but it didn’t happen. She’s not as good as you think. She kept your kid away from you.” Gregory pats Jake’s shoulder, drinking again.

“She was protecting my son. And she did a good damn job.”

“Oh yeah, so good that he doesn’t stop crying when he’s ordered to.” Gregory rolls his eyes.

“Kids cry, Greogry. You’d know if you had spent time with me when I was little.”

“I had so many things to do, it was impossible for me to waste time with a kid.”

“Waste time. Is that all I've ever been to you? A waste of time?” Jake tries to get up from the chair, but Vlad pushes him down again.

“Well, not really, but you left me. And all the money, time, and effort I put into your education was useless!” Gregory reminds him, as if Jake wasn’t trying to leave again. “You let me down, son.”

“Then why were you so desperate to have me here again? Why did you want an heir so bad?” Jake hears his father’s words, and they are totally contradictory. He talks about him as if he were a "failed project" but yet again, he has been trying to bring him home for the past three years. There's something missing here. And he needs to know.

“I think I can answer that question.” Jake has never been more glad to hear his wife’s voice in all his life.

“What are you doing here, whore?” Vlad questions, getting up and pressing the barrel of the revolver against Jake’s head.

“If I were you, I would look around before insulting people.” You say, pressing the gun against Gregory’s back. “Drop the gun or your boss dies, Vlad.”

Gregory shakes his head, making Vlad move the barrel to Jake’s temple. “Where’s your kid, Red? Did you leave him alone?”

“Contrary to you, Greg, I have friends.” You push him towards his desk. “Sit down.”

Gregory sits on his chair, Vlad grabs Jake by the arm, moving him so both of them are in front of the window again. Perfect. Just where you want them.

“Now we’re gonna play by my rules, Greg.”

“Don’t call me Greg.” He grunts, trying to get up.

“No, no, no, Greg.” you say in a singsong voice, moving the gun to his forehead, just between his eyes. “You don’t want to have a hole in your head, right?”

“As if you could shoot me.”

You smirk, and move the gun to his leg, shooting him on the knee. Gregory grips his leg in agony, blood pouring from the wound. “Now that you know what I’m capable of, don’t make me shoot you in the head.”

“Son, you married a psychopath!” The old man screams, looking at Vlad and Jake.

Jake looks at you with a smirk that reciprocates your own. “I married a queen. And you should know better than to mess with one.”

“Vlad, are you gonna drop that revolver or not?”

“When you drop your gun, bitch.” He spits, eyes locked with yours.

“Ah, ah, ah. You don’t want to talk like that to the person who has your boss’s life in her hands.” You correct him, using the same tone you use when talking with Liam.

“I should have shot you before.” Gregory says, taking off his belt to make a tourniquet and stop the bleeding.

You laugh, sitting on the desk, not once moving the gun from Gregory’s head. “Well, remember how my husband asked you something? I think I can answer that question. I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was an evil king called… George. King George ruled a kingdom of terror. He was loved by some and feared by the rest. He, however, didn’t care about the people. He only cared about the money he could win, he wanted to fill thousands of chests with gold.”

“Are you really going to tell me a fairytale of my own life?”

“Shush, King George. I’m talking.” You clear your throat before continuing. You just need to keep going until Tony tells you that the sniper is ready to shoot. You need to gain that precious time. And what better than the story behind all this mess? “King George was married to a beautiful yet innocent queen, Queen Marian. She wasn’t as powerful as George was, but she was in love with him, and she didn’t know the King’s true intentions.”

“However,” you continue, getting the white king from the chess board and moving it around the table, as if the piece were walking around it. “The King didn’t care about his wife. He only wanted an heir. A prince. And that’s how Prince Jay was born."

You look at Jake, there’s expectation in his face. He’s waiting for you to tell him the real reason behind his father’s actions.

“Prince Jay was raised by the best teachers in the whole kingdom. But when Prince Jay grew up, and his dear grandpa was murdered, Jay decided to leave and find a better life. He didn’t want to be like his father. He wanted to amend all the damage his father had done, and that’s when he left the kingdom, became a soldier, and fought for all the lives that his father had put in serious danger. That’s when he met a queen. The Red Queen.”

You continue your story, the three men watching you, like three children listening to a storyteller. “The Red Queen and, now, King Jay, were very happy. King George, however, wasn’t happy. Not because his son had married someone. But because he found out… he was sick. And that illness that threatened his life was untreatable. He didn’t have much time left.”

You watch Gregory’s face contort in anger and shame, his whole skin turning red. You were right. He is sick.

“Afraid of the people who would inherit his kingdom after he passed away, he tried to force his son to come back to him and take his position as an heir. Be the next king of his kingdom. And to make that happen, he needed to threaten his own son. How, you may be wondering. Well, he tricked King Jay into thinking he was going to hurt his wife, even though he would never do anything... because he's a complete coward."

Gregory tries to get up, and you move the gun to his wound, pressing the muzzle against the hole in his head. “Don’t even try, Greg. Let me finish, dude. We’re getting there.”

You keep telling the story that you’ve been piecing together on the trip to Hidden Hills. You kept thinking, "Why is he behaving this way?" and then you found the answer you were looking for in one of the rooms downstairs, before coming upstairs to save Jake, a place that has been turned into an infirmary. “Well, King George waited for three years until the Red Queen told King Jay that he was a father, but she never did because she was scared of the king’s reaction. King George, tired of waiting and knowing that he was running out of time, tried to force a meeting. That's when the king dispatched Viktor to King Jay's domain.

“Really. My name is Vlad. Not Viktor.” He grunts, looking you up and down.

“That’s not even your real name.” You retort, pointing the gun at him. “Will you stop interrupting me?”

“Bitch.”

Jake turns around, looking at Vlad. “Insult my wife again, and I swear to God that’s gonna be your last word on Earth.”

“Anyway. Viktor disguised himself as a soldier, and worked in the same army as King Jay, but he didn’t plan on talking directly with the king. No, his plan was to make Cycunt bring the Red Queen to the kingdom.” You look at Gregory, waving your hand. “Yeah, I know. Cycunt isn’t a great name. But it is what it is, right? So, Vlad and Cycunt happened to be in the same place at the same time, and Vlad mentioned, loud enough for him to hear, that King Jay had been married before. That’s how Cycunt, a few months later, reached the Red Queen and got her to be in the same kingdom. And that’s how it all happened.”

“You’re sick?” Jake asks Gregory, really expecting him to negate everything.

“Cancer.”

“Fucking psychopath. What the fuck did you think would have happened once you died? I would have destroyed the whole company!” Jake yells, moving a step forward, and Vlad grabs him by the neck.

“Get your hands off him.” You warn him, clenching your jaw.

“Stop being a psycho bitch and drop the gun!” Vlad yells too, his voice echoing in the empty corridor behind you.

“Shut up, or I’ll shoot you too. Gregory, why did you kill James Seresin?”

“I didn’t kill anyone, Red.” Greg groans, taking off his tie. His face is covered in a thin layer of sweat. He’s starting to have trouble breathing, but you couldn’t care less.

“Well, you ordered someone, probably Vlad, to kill him. Why?”

"He was transforming my son into a frail, military man." I didn’t want all my work to go to waste.”

“Really? That was it? You could have just prohibited him from seeing Jake.” You deadpan.

“He didn’t take no for an answer. I had to get rid of him.”

You shake your head, not understanding anything that comes from this man’s mouth. It's like he goes to extraordinary lengths to fix situations that have the easiest solutions. He’s absolutely stupid.

“Commander Seresin?”

You hear a voice coming through the earpiece, and you almost jump from the table.

“Commander Seresin, I’m Special Agent Gibbs. I’m DiNozzo’s boss. If you can hear me, please keep talking. I’m trying to find the right window.”

“Greg, I assume that you play chess, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you consider yourself good?”

“That’s it, Commander. Keep talking. Just need a bit more time. Just a few seconds.” Gibbs says, and you want to sigh in relief. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll walk away from here. You’ll be free at last.

“I taught Jake everything he knows.”

“Well, I think you’re a liar.”

Greg raises an eyebrow at you. “And why do you think so?”

“Because if you knew the basics of chess, you'd know that the king is the most valuable piece but not the most powerful.” You reach into one of your west pockets and pull out the red queen piece. “The queen is the most powerful one. She can move around the board in every direction, unlike the king, who can only move one square at a time.”

“I already know that.”

“Then why did you think that messing with a queen would be a smart idea?” Moving your gaze away from him and leaving the piece in front of the white king, you say. “You’re not as good as you claim to be.”

Out of nowhere, Gregory pulls a small revolver and pointing it at you, making Jake step in your direction, only to be stopped by Vlad. You don’t have the upper hand anymore. Gibbs you need to move fast.

“What now, Red Queen? What are you gonna do now?” Gregory chuckles, trying to get up from his chair but failing.

“Commander, I see you and your husband. If you can hear me, grab the weapon with both hands.” Gibbs says, and you hold your breath for a second.

You do as he tells you, getting up from the chair and pointing at Gregory, holding the gun with two hands.

“That’s good, Commander. I see that he has a gun, too. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to kill him.”

That’s not what you wanted to hear, to be completely honest. But if you have to pull the trigger, you’ll do it.

Better you than him.

“You’re not so talkative now, huh?”

“Commander, I’ll count to three, and we shoot at the same time, got it? One.”

“Gregory.” You call him, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Two.”

“What?” He replies, with a sly smile.

“Checkmate.”

“Three!”

You shoot straight into his head, just at the same time, a bullet breaks the window and goes through Vlad’s head. Vlad falls to the floor, and Jake runs to you, as you watch Gregory’s body go limp in front of you.

“Are you okay? What the fuck was that?” Jake cups your face between his hands, checking your body for any injuries, but you’re okay. He kisses you passionately when you try to reply to his question.

“DiNozzo’s boss.”

“Where’s Liam?”

“With DiNozzo.” You say again, letting Jake drag you into his arms.

“It’s over now. It’s finally over. You saved me.”

“I said I would come back for you” You whisper, your body shaking now that the adrenaline is gone.

“Let’s get you out of here, my love.” He says as he leads you to the door, kiss pressing against your temple.

Then you remember that there’s something you need to do. You turn around, heading towards the desk, and, looking at the chess board, you see that the white pieces are now covered in blood.

You take the queen and hit the king, making it fall down.

That’s how you win a war.

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