moonsandmischief

[moonsandmischief]

Broken Once, Bound Forever Series

Chapter 3: Power or Escape

Series Masterlist

Summary/Context: Ultimately, you and Loki fall in love because of your cynical similarities. Your love is deep and soulful because of this, and you understand each other in meaningful ways. Your demise comes in your different methods to obtaining freedom. You are left devastated when your differences split you apart.

Warnings: This chapter is definitely angst heavy and has a sad ending. Just a forewarning! Arguments, screaming, conflict, sadness, abandonment

Taglist: @soulpiercing

Author’s Notes: Let the depths to this story begin… I’m so excited to post more parts to this series! Also- let me know if you want on the taglist!

And thus began the start of your and Loki’s story, which only continued to reach more depths with each and every visit you made to each other subsequently.

Not only did you help each other manage your rage, but you also bonded over your mischievous ways. Mischief actually became the focus of most of your time together.

After your initial conversation, the next few were all when you sought him out for comfort when the world began to feel like too much. Loki began to arrange more times to see you, coming up with various ways you could slip away from your husband or family, and locations where you would be hidden from others seeing you together.

Falling for Loki was as easy as breathing.

He understood you in ways you never imagined anyone could. For every part of you that was disgusted with society, there was a part of him that felt the same way. For every mischievous idea you had, he had ten more. For every hopeless thought you had, he had at least one to relate to you. For every ounce of rage you contained in your bones, he had two more to match it. For every part of you that just craved genuine acceptance, Loki was there to accept you. And for every part of him that he needed someone to accept, you were there to accept him.

The connection you had was genuine and ran deep, your souls matching one another in a seamless bond.

The thrill of your love began to intensify the more you snuck around, and your need for Loki intimately with it. A certain sense of freedom that you had never experienced boosted your confidence, and you began to feel the happiest you ever had.

The control over your life suddenly felt like it was finally in your hands, for the first time in your life.

On a particular evening, you and Loki met in the gardens, and you were feeling particularly bold. You were discussing potential ways you might be able to get out of your arranged marriage as you strolled through a dark section of the gardens many people never traveled to.

Loki was explaining his idea to you, but you were too distracted by the sound of his voice and how utterly breathtaking he looked that night in the dim light. When he stopped talking and looked at you questioningly, you moved closer to him.

“What is it, darling?” Loki asked you, smiling down at you. You grinned mischievously before biting down on your lower lip gently, eyes flicking between his eyes and lips.

You hadn’t taken your relationship past friendly interactions, but every part of your being longed to kiss him until you saw stars, and you couldn’t resist your temptation.

In a leap of faith, you initiated your first kiss hungrily. Loki let out a small chuckle and kissed you back passionately, his hands gripping your waist firmly and drawing you closer.

“Darling [Y/N],” Loki said breathlessly when you finally broke the kiss. “You are full of surprises, I must say.” You grinned up at him, breathing heavily.

“No, Loki,” you said, leaning back into him, ghosting your lips over his. “I just need you.”

You kissed him again, and this time he responded with even more passion, pinning your back to a concrete wall in the garden as he towered over you. One of his hands held your waist tightly, and the other came up to cup your cheek as he kissed you. After a few moments, you gently bit his lip and fisted his shirt in your hands. He pulled away slightly.

“You best choose your next actions wisely, darling,” he growled against your lips. “I may have lots of self-control, love, but you are tempting me into madness, and I might not be able to stop myself from taking all of you with me.” You giggled, burying your face in the crook of his neck before biting his neck gently.

“Madness is the point, silly,” you whispered in his ear, and in a split second, you were whisked away in his arms. You gasped, suddenly worried someone would see you as he began to carry you through the garden.

“Don’t worry, I have magic, remember?” He reassured you, sensing your worries immediately. “We are invisible to others. Your wish is my command, darling, so I will take you to my chambers, if you please.”

“Yes,” you said in agreement quickly, and he chuckled while you giggled, full of mischievous joy.

He quickly took you to his chambers, and that was the first night you made love of many, many more nights. It was also the first night you confessed your love for one another. From there, things very often got heated, and it quickly became an outlet for the two of you to show one another your love and release your frustrations. 

~

You and Loki were both cynical in many ways.

You had admitted to each other many dark thoughts you both often had about committing horrible actions against people who made your lives miserable. Of course, you both felt ashamed for the darkest of things. However, there were often times you would discuss ways you could get up to a little mischief and change things for the better in your lives. Loki often discussed the possibility of trying to convince his parents to remove you from your marriage so he could be with you, but both of you feared it was a long shot and worried about outing your relationship, especially when it was going so well.

It quickly became obvious to you both that your love for one another was the best part of each of your lives, but that everything else was so complicated it almost began to dampen the spark of your love.

Loki kept dreaming of different plans he could initiate to gain more power or freedom for himself and you so that you could better your lives. He became particularly obsessed with the idea of you ruling alongside him, and although you never fought him on his ideas, you more so urged to him the idea of running away from Asgard.

The difference between you and Loki quickly became apparent: Loki craved power, thinking it would set him free from all of his rage, while you craved escape as a means of freedom. 

And although you never fought Loki, you began to worry when he seemed to become busier and a little distant from you. You regretted now not questioning him more at that time, prying a little more so that you would have known of his plans before it was too late.

But deep down, you knew it probably wouldn’t have changed anything. Loki had become too obsessed with the idea of power, and although you could tell he tried to keep you involved in his plans, he was also way too protective of you. He wouldn’t put you in harm's way, no matter what, above anything else. 

You found out about his plan to try to win his father’s favor soon before the Jotuns came to attempt to kill Odin.

You had agreed with him that it was a great plan to gain his father’s favor, so long as no one found out. But you warned him about his conflicts with Thor and his friends, urging him that he needed to be more secretive, and shared your disapproval of his plans to destroy the entire Jotun race. He wouldn’t hear any of your concerns, insisted that his plan would work, and claimed he was hurt that you didn’t have faith in him, even though you tried to assure him that you did.

That was the first and only argument that you had ever had, and it ended with you begging Loki to either stop his madness and let you help him make things right, or to just run away, forget about all of Asgard’s nonsense, let go of his pursuit of power, and just live happily with you. Loki insisted he must complete his mission, that it was something he needed to do for himself.

That was the last conversation you had before Loki’s plan went south, and the memory that haunted you the most today.

You could remember how you begged and pleaded with Loki that night, feeling so powerless for the first time in the one place in your life that had given you strength. Looking back, the night seemed like a dream -- a nightmare. It was as if a dark cloud had made its way over your world, bringing out the very worst in everything around you, and hadn't really left since that sorrowful night.

You were so frustrated that your nails had dug trenches into your palms, the rage you felt numbing the pain. You were tired of Loki hiding things from you and confronted him about being secretive when he came to see you before his plan was set into motion.

“Darling, I assure you that you can trust me,” he tried to dismiss your fears. “I have everything under control, and once this is over, you will see that everything will be better for us.” You sighed in exasperation, grabbing Loki’s hands in yours. 

“I do trust you, Loki,” you promised him. “But I need you to trust me. Tell me what is going on. You know just as well as I that being in the dark is miserable. I just want you to share this with me so I can understand, so I don’t have to sit here worried out of my mind. I promise I will not doubt your plans, but please elaborate with me, I can’t take it anymore.” Loki sighed then, giving in to your pleas.

“I understand how you feel, darling, and I’m sorry,” he soothed you, smoothing your hair down tenderly on the sides of your face. “I will tell you everything, but I ask for your faith in return.”

“Of course you have my faith,” you assured him, caressing his cheek softly.

He then began to explain to you everything he had set in motion: how he had “taken care” of Thor; how the Jotuns would soon be attempting to kill Odin in his sleep, but he would be there to stop them; how he would destroy the Jotun race in just a few hours; how all of this would win him his father’s favor forever.

To say you were shocked at the extremity of it all was an understatement. You remember feeling sick at the knowledge of what he had been doing behind your back, your mind immediately worried about all of the things that could go wrong. To you, it was as though your world was crumbling. You had a horrible feeling that everything you had was about to slip through the cracks of your fingers. Although, his plan really was awfully clever. You acknowledged the intelligence of it all, but warned him of the flaws you saw: What if Thor returned? And what of the morality behind killing an entire race of beings? Would Odin deem that honorable?

Your criticism angered him, and he pulled away from you in absolute hurt. You felt horrible, but couldn’t just sit and keep your worries to yourself, or they would have made you even more sick. He turned to you with such anger that you had never seen in him, especially not directed towards you.

“Darling, why can’t you just trust me?” he said bitterly, throwing his arms up in the air as he stared at you with a fury in his eyes unknown to you.

You shrank back into yourself, looking at the floor to avoid his eye contact as you tried to tell him that you did trust him.

“You obviously do not, or you would not question my well-thought-out plan!” he spat, his chest beginning to heave as he paced. “You know, I expect these kinds of doubts from the others, but from you? Well, it is utterly disappointing, darling. Have you really no faith in me, no faith that I can execute this plan and better our lives?”

“Loki, of course I do–” you started, before he cut you off.

“You do not, or you would not have so much criticism!” he shouted, making you shrink back even more. “My plan will work, I assure you. You just wait here and stay out of it, as I had intended for you from the beginning.”

His words cut into you like knives. All you wanted was to express your concerns, to help him.

“Loki, I’m just afraid!” you said exasperatedly. “I don’t want anything to go wrong. I am simply trying to cover every possibility, not criticize you! I’m worried, my love! This plan has many risks.”

You sounded fearful even to yourself, but it was the truth. You had a horrible feeling about all of this.

“Do you not think I have also thought of the risks?” Loki questioned you harshly, not paying any mind to your genuine concern. “Do you doubt me so much to think I don’t have this all under control? You are the one person I never expected to doubt me, [Y/N]. Sure, there are risks involved, but my plan is perfectly crafted and nothing bad will come of it. I have designed it so that everything will be fixed and we will have a better future, just you wait and see, darling, I promise.”

He approached you then, cupping your face in both of his hands.

“Freedom and power wait for us, darling," he whispered as he stared into your eyes intensely. "We are a few hours away from everything changing for the better, and I wish you would share my excitement.”

He looked at you tenderly, then, and you released some of the tension in your body, but still felt so unheard and made powerless by him. He was pushing you aside just like every other person in your life had. You had spent so much time being comforted by him when others had made you feel unheard. He knew being dismissed was the thing that hurt you the most, and yet he could not see he was hurting you at all.

His recklessness was terrifying you, even though the risks were so high and the potential of his plan falling through the cracks was imminent. And yet, he would not listen to you.

“Loki,” you began, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “I trust you and have faith in you with all of my being. But I can’t just let you silence my logical concerns. I have a horrible feeling this is not going to go how you are picturing it, and I will not stop you, but I also will not condone this. I pray that it goes as you wish it will.” You embraced him, then, holding onto him tightly.

“So be it, darling, but I assure you everything will be fine,” he whispered in your ear. He held you with just as much passion until he pulled away, telling you it was almost time and he must go.

The reality of the situation began to sink in suddenly as he moved to leave, and panic began to rise in your chest.

“Please, Loki,” you called, stopping him. Your tears began to flow a little more freely.

“What if you just tried to stop it all now?" you pleaded. "We could end it and make things right. Or we could just leave here after the Frost Giants are taken care of. No risks, no potential of things going horribly wrong. We don’t have to do all of this; we could just leave this place and forget about all of the complicated issues. We could leave and just be happy together.”

You were begging at this point, sobs wracking your body. Loki sighed in frustration. 

“For all that you say you have faith in me, you really don’t appear to,” Loki said tiredly, staring at you with hurt in his eyes. “You know that running away will never fix these problems, [Y/N]. We could have so much more here. I could have so much more here. I’ve already got everything set in motion, I would be stupid to give it all up and run away now. I have to do this for myself, and I really wish you would just support me in this. If I have to go at it alone, I will... but, just know that I am doing this for us.”

You shook your head, sobs wracking your body.

“You’re not doing it for us, Loki,” you sobbed. “You’re doing it for you. I don’t want power, I just want you! I want nothing from Asgard except for you... but all you want is power! Please stop this!”

“Do not presume to know what I want!” he raged suddenly, looming over you in a fury. You jumped back, covering your head with your hands and shaking in sadness and anger.

“You know what, you’re right," Loki said, a dark tone foreign to you overtaking his voice. "I am doing this for myself, since you cannot find it in yourself to support me. I am a god, and soon I will be a king. I always wanted you to be the one ruling beside me, but if you cannot support me, then consider yourself relieved of your duties.”

With that, he turned away from you, storming to the door.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to return to," he declared, and the door closed behind him with a loud bang.

You were overcome by sobs as his final words crushed you.

You felt betrayed above all, more than anything. You knew there was no good ending, especially when Thor’s return was likely.

Most of all, you were hurt because he didn’t listen to you, and you were hurt that he felt he would be happier with power than he would be simply pursuing a life with you.

You were on the rainbow bridge that night and watched as Loki let himself go, leaving behind not only his family and home, but everything you guys had built together in your relationship.

Everything you thought meant the world to him.

[moonsandmischief]

Broken Once, Bound Forever Series

Chapter 2: The Origin

Series Masterlist

Summary/Context: Upon Loki's return into your life, you think back to where and how your relationship began. It all started when Loki became interested in you after hearing a conversation you had with Thor, quickly leading to an insatiable infatuation that led you both to discover your similarities.

Warnings: feeling outcast from society, family trauma, slight female objectification

Author's Notes: Here is part two... the story really starts to deepen soon! Thanks for reading!

Your relationship with Loki had all begun with infatuation and longing.

Your life had been traumatic from the start, and you had wanted to run away before you could even read and write. From a young age, your parents had forced you into an archetype and planned your entire life’s story for you.

It unfortunately wasn’t entirely uncommon for families in the higher class to marry off to increase familial wealth or form alliances. Most women like you were entirely compliant and happy to marry wealthy, high-class Asgardian men, as it was the social norm -- but not you. You dreamed of real love from a young age and longed to have the freedom to marry and do as you wished.

You had known even as a child that you did not want your story to be written by other people. You yearned for freedom and adventure like you yearned for air and water to live.

It was why Loki was so appealing to you – he was full of quiet chaos.

He was the God of Mischief, which was something you found yourself tangled in as you tried your damndest to rebel against your parents and arranged husband. This was what attracted Loki to you - you were not compliant, as most Asgardian women were. You weren’t afraid to get up to a little mischief to protest against everything you were forced to do.

A marriage was arranged for you despite all of your tears and pleas, and you were essentially sold off like a pig. The man you were married to was everything you weren’t: properly high-class, respected, and conforming -- and consequently, he was boring. You felt as if you were doomed to live in misery, and in response, you did everything possible to make yourself inconvenient to your husband and parents to pass the misery right along.

Loki first noticed you when you were venting to Thor, your great friend, about wishing to escape your life.

Thor always tried to give you advice and support, but he really didn’t understand your lack of power over the situation. If you left your husband, you would be doomed to a peasant’s life, losing all financial support from him and your parents. Although you considered it many times, you knew deep down you would miss the riches, and you stood no chance in a peasant’s life. You were forced to choose one hard over another.

Loki overheard your conversation and found you alone in the library on an evening a few days later. The library was one of the only places you found solace from your parents and your husband, and had become one of your secret hiding places around the palace, along with the gardens.

Loki had seen you about several times before, but never knew you were so interesting until he overheard your conversation with Thor. He had secretly been stalking you out of curiosity since then. He watched you silently from across the library for a while as you read your book, which looked to Loki like a text on ancient Asgardian warriors. This was another intriguing detail to him - why would you be reading about warriors?

Loki slowly approached you, sitting next to you on the sofa quietly. A few minutes passed before you noticed him and nearly jumped out of your skin. 

“Oh!” You shouted, jumping to your feet. “Prince Loki, I’m terribly sorry.” You bowed quickly to him, and Loki reached his hand out to you, waving dismissively.

“Oh darling, there is no need for apologies or formalities,” he said, his voice charming and smooth as he smirked at you. He gently pulled you to your feet and nudged you to sit back down. “Please sit, I was merely wishing to join your company.” You blinked at him with wide eyes, confusion making you cock your head at him.

“Join my company?” You questioned. “Why would you wish that?” Loki smiled at you once again, making intense eye contact.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, darling,” he confessed to you gently. “I find you rather intriguing. I overheard your conversation with my brother at the banquet a few days ago, and I confess that I am curious to learn more about you.”

You stared at him in silence for a few moments, a thrill running up your spine at his apparent genuine interest in you. But ultimately, you sighed, turning back to your book and staring down at it blankly.

“I appreciate your flattery, Prince Loki, but I assure you that I am not very interesting,” you said, a flat tone to your voice. “My life is rather plain, just the same as most other young, high-class Asgardian ladies.”

“But from what I understand, you don’t have the same desires as the other ladies at all,” Loki observed, peering at you curiously. “Which makes you entirely interesting. You are a peculiar creature compared to the others … rather rebellious, if I may say.” You glanced over at him, your eyes locking, thoughts swimming in your mind.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say quite rebellious,” you disagreed. “I don’t tend to cause that much of a ruckus. I just tend to be…. ah… what would I call it?”

“Mischievous,” Loki finished for you, smirking at you. A glimmer appeared in his eye that you had never seen before, and something about it made you giddy.

“Yes,” you agreed this time, a sudden smile forming on your features. Loki stared at you in awe, his smile widening.

“Gods,” he began, but paused after a moment before continuing, staring at you for moments too long to be casual. “Your smile is simply more beautiful than anything I have ever seen in all of the nine realms.” Your breathing stopped, and your heart skipped a beat. You blinked several times, but never disconnected eye contact with him.

“Prince Loki…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“It’s just Loki to you, darling,” he said charmingly, now much closer than you remembered him being seconds ago, his face glowing in the flickering light of the fireplace nearby.

You suddenly felt a wave of energy course through you, a fire lit within you.

“Loki,” you began breathlessly, turning more fully to face him. “May I confess something to you?”

“Of course, darling, whatever you wish to tell me I will not breathe to another soul,” he promised, and you believed every word, unquestionably. Something about him seemed so genuine, and you found yourself trusting him more easily than you ever had anyone else.

“I want to run away,” you confessed to him, and he nodded at you in understanding, urging you to continue explaining. “I wish to escape everything about my life … all of it has been arranged for me. It’s why I research ancient warriors, to see if I can come up with ideas on escape plans... I want to get away from my parents, my absurd husband, the fake ladies who are supposedly my friends, and every standard of this society I am expected to adhere to. It’s all meaningless… none of it gives me any genuine fulfillment, there’s nothing for me in anything…” You pondered for a moment, and Loki continued looking at you curiously.

“Part of me has wanted to run away for as long as I can remember, and another part of me wants to burn it all down,” you confessed with a shaky breath, staring deeply into Loki’s eyes as you admitted one of your deepest secrets to him. “I have a deeply felt rage inside of me that only seems to grow the longer I am trapped in this unfulfilling life. I am becoming afraid of what will happen if I don’t find anything to soothe it.”

Loki stared at you for several moments, his breath coming out just as shaky as yours.

“Darling,” he started, a hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You looked up at him in shock at his touch, and he only smirked. “I have never heard someone describe so exactly what it is that I feel every day I live.” He paused in thought for a moment. “You should come to me when you feel the rage reaching the surface … and maybe I can help you learn to control it.”

Something about what he was saying made you feel more seen than you ever had by anyone else in your entire life, and suddenly every part of you never wanted to leave his side.

“Yes, I will,” you agreed without a second thought, and you both smiled at one another.

And thus began the start of your and Loki’s story, which only continued to reach more depths with each and every visit you made to each other subsequently.

[moonsandmischief]

Broken Once, Bound Forever Masterlist

Loki x Female!Reader Series

Synopsis:

You have always been an outcast. Or, you have always felt like one inside. Nothing has ever brought you any true fulfillment, except for one thing. Or, rather, one person: Loki Laufeyson.

You were born an Asgardian, raised in the upper class of Asgardian society, and shrouded in politics. You were essentially born to be married off to increase your family's wealth and status, but you always had an innate desire for freedom. You're not afraid to act up in the face of being controlled, either, and dream of escape from a young age.

You and Loki are drawn to each other, falling madly in love. But things don't work out as you wish, ending very messily. Years later, you escape your miserable life on Asgard and become an Avenger. However, you still suffer from the memories of what happened between you and Loki.

And then, something unexpected happens: Loki also becomes an Avenger, and now you must face the rough memories that have broken you. You must face Loki, and in the end, yourself, and figure out your feelings for him.

Series Warnings: I will post individual warnings on each chapter, but here is a few I will note overall- smut, family trauma, abandonment, depression, emotional distress, isolation/withdrawing, just a dark mental state, intense anger, sadness, mentions of grape/abuse, partying, hookups, drinking, battles, injuries, self-loathing... possibly more

~~~

Chapter 1: A Haunting Void (finished)

Chapter 2: The Origin (finished)

Chapter 3: Power or Escape (finished)

Chapter 4: Rage - coming soon

Chapter 5: Avoidance - coming soon

Chapter 6: Exhaustion and Longing - coming soon

Chapter 7: Honesty - coming soon

Chapter 8: in progress

Chapter 9: in progress

Chapter 10: in progress

Possibly more chapters.......

Current Taglist: @soulpiercing

[moonsandmischief]

Broken Once, Bound Forever Series

Chapter 1: A Haunting Void

Series Masterlist

Summary/Context: You are a newer Avenger, an Asgardian who has moved to Earth due to your complicated upbringing and history. You are adapting to life on Earth and as an Avenger, trying to heal after all of your traumatic experiences. You are beginning to learn how to cope with your unstable mental health when a shocking event turns everything upside down once again for you: your ex-lover, Loki, returns to be the newest member of the team.

*Set in a timeline where the beginning of Infinity War (Loki's death and Thanos) does not happen, and the Avengers remain a team. So, right after Thor: Ragnarök.

Warnings: depression, isolation, bad habits, painful memories, sadness, trauma

Author's Notes: Hello to everyone, this is my return from hiatus! And my first Marvel fic, as I have decided to add Marvel to my list of fandoms. This idea has been forming in my mind for literal years, but I have finally gotten the inspiration and time to write it all down. This story is really for myself more than anything, with the reader going through a lot of experiences I relate to. I hope you all enjoy!

You awoke with a start, the sound of your alarm blaring interrupting a mediocre sleep.

Your first thought: another day of doing everything possible to distract yourself from the black hole inside of you.

You stared at the ceiling, listening to the alarm blare and dissociating. Finally, after a few moments, you shut the annoying sound off and climbed out of bed to get ready for another day of work as an Avenger.

You joined the Avengers just about a year ago now. You adapted quickly to the lifestyle, rather enjoying the small bit of fulfillment it brought you. It distracted you from the endless numbness you felt inside.

Some days, you thought it was the only thing that actually made you feel happy at times, knowing that you were doing something that was beneficial to others and that made a positive difference in the world. Even if that world really wasn’t yours at all, you had come to admire the humans a hell of a lot more than the Asgardians. Though you had come to find that there were lots of utterly rotten humans, too.

You slipped on your entirely black suit, applied some makeup, and did all of your morning hygiene before heading to the compound’s kitchen to find something for breakfast. Your stomach felt insanely empty, which was probably because you had skipped dinner the night before, opting to go to sleep early and avoid socializing with anyone.

It had been a rough two years for you mentally since leaving Asgard, as much as you wouldn’t really admit it to yourself and surely would never confess to anyone else.

You didn’t really know what was wrong with you, but you just couldn’t find any fulfillment in anything, it seemed. You loved the other Avengers and you loved your job, but something was missing in your life that you would never admit and pushed out of your mind because it was too painful to think about.

You’d left Asgard for a fresh start, a chance to redefine your life and find something more. Although Earth was much better than Asgard so far, you still couldn’t figure out what exactly you needed. You felt outcast and broken here just as you had on Asgard, and it was killing you inside.

You pushed all thoughts out of your head; you couldn’t do this today.

You focused on finding something to eat, entering the kitchen. You were greeted by several Avengers: Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha. They all smiled at you and bid you good morning, as did you in return. You went straight to the pantry, looking around, your stomach growling when you smelled the food Natasha was cooking. 

“Do you want some pancakes, bacon, or eggs?” Natasha asked you. 

“Oh, yes, please,” you replied, turning to look at her. “I would enjoy all of it very much, Nat.” She smiled at you, nodding in agreement and cracking more eggs into her bowl. You began to help her cook, and she gave you a side hug in appreciation.

“Oh [Y/N], I missed you at dinner last night – there’s not enough girls in this place for any of us to sit out,” she joked. You smiled at her, sighing in guilt.

“I’m sorry, Nat, I was just so tired yesterday,” you half-lied. You were a little tired, but mostly just feeling antisocial. She told you it was okay, and you carried on making breakfast.

As soon as the food was ready, you made your plate and sat down at the table. Steve, Sam, and Bucky all echoed Natasha’s sentiments, and you told them the same thing and apologized, starting to feel guilty for isolating yourself.

More members on the team arrived, and the subject changed to the day’s meeting plans. You sighed in relief, not wanting to be questioned anymore about your behavior. You ate in silence, too hungry to have any input, until you heard them talking about a new member joining the Avengers. You tuned in a little more.

“They won’t tell us who it is exactly,” Steve said. “Which is odd because they never keep things so secretive. Only Stark and Thor know, and Fury says we all need to be told in person. I think he plans it for the meeting today.”

“Why do you think Fury would be so secretive?” Natasha asked. 

“My only guess is that maybe the new member might be complicated with some of us or something,” Steve replied. They all discussed possible guesses for who it could be, and your heart stopped suddenly at one suggestion.

“I think it could be Loki,” Steve said, and the others looked at him doubtfully.

“As in: tried to destroy the world and attacked New York, Loki?” Sam questioned. “Why in the hell would that be a good idea?”

“I’ve heard he has been considerably better since then,” Steve replied. “He helped Thor out a lot with Asgardian business, and their relationship has significantly improved. His power would obviously be an asset – if used for good, of course.”

“How can we be sure he would be on good behavior, though?” Natasha questioned.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “I would hope Fury will have that figured out.”

They all nodded, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, appetite lost. You pushed your chair back and stood up.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked you. You shook your head quickly, clearing your throat. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, forcing a smile. “My stomach feels a little off. I’m going to go to my room for a while, but I’ll see you guys soon at the meeting.” You rushed quickly out of the kitchen and to your bedroom, closing the door. 

You were shaking violently, thoughts spinning. If they were right, what would this mean?

You quickly pushed the thoughts away, dismissing them all. You couldn’t think about a what-if, and even if it was true, it didn’t have to mean anything. You couldn’t let it mean anything.

You took a deep breath and went to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, staring into your own eyes and studying your own face. It doesn’t mean anything, and they were probably wrong anyway, you attempted to reassure yourself.

The meeting came before you knew it, and you walked in with false confidence, sitting next to Natasha and Wanda as you usually did. They both smiled at you, and Wanda gave you a hug in greeting.

“Are you feeling better, [Y/N]?” Natasha asked. You nodded, telling her it must’ve been from skipping dinner last night. She and Wanda scolded you for skipping dinner, and you laughed at them.

“You guys behave like you are my mother,” you joked, and they laughed.

Fury came in seconds later, and the entire team, except for Thor, was present. You ignored the nerves you felt at Thor’s absence. Fury began the meeting by debriefing everyone on the upcoming missions ahead, before getting to the news of the new member joining the team.

“This will be an adjustment for all of us, I want to advise you all first,” Fury warned, glancing around at all of you. “But I ask you all to have open minds. Thor has managed to convince me to trust this arrangement, and I assure you all that I have plans in place if something were to go awry.”

At the mention of Thor, you knew Steve had been right, and your head began to spin.

“I ask that you all trust me in this and work together as is the typical code, especially with our new member’s complicated history,” Fury continued, but paused before continuing further.

“We will be welcoming Loki to the team.”

Your stomach dropped, mouth completely dry. All of the team members exchanged shocked glances, whilst your eyes cast to the table.

“I believe his abilities will be a major asset for us, even if his reputation needs a lot of work,” Fury explained to the team. “I think we have the ability to redeem him here, as crazy as it sounds. Many of us came with a complex history just as he is, so I don’t think we have the room to talk about unredeemable qualities. I know you will all have concerns, but I ask you to instead work through them and see how this goes. Let’s be as welcoming as possible.”

As the team continued to exchange unsure glances but responded with agreement, you felt your breathing become unstable. 

“Another thing to note,” Fury continued. “I will be honest with you all, but please keep this detail quiet and especially do not say anything to Loki. We have recently gathered intel that makes it probable that Loki was mind controlled during the invasion in New York. So, the Loki you all will meet today will not be the villain you knew.”

Your mind was spinning even more. To you, it didn’t matter which “version” of Loki this was. Your history with him started hundreds of years ago, back on Asgard, before he had stepped a foot on Earth. The idea that he was really returning had panic rising in your chest.

Suddenly, the door opened. Thor was the first to walk in, followed by the one and only God of Mischief himself: Loki.

You point-blank stared at him, unable to look away. His eyes scanned the team, freezing the second they met yours.

You could see Thor in your peripheral vision with a nervous look on his face as he looked between you and Loki. Thor would be the only person in the room who knew you and Loki’s history. You couldn’t waver from staring into Loki’s eyes, and neither could he from yours.

“Well, hello darling, what a pleasure it is to see you again,” Loki said to you rather charmingly, the same voice you remembered from years ago. He smiled at you, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

Suddenly, the pain of your history hit you like a tidal wave, physical waves of ache shooting through your muscles, head-to-toe, and the breath was completely knocked out of your lungs. Your legs were moving before your brain could even process what you were doing, and you were back in your bedroom before you took another breath.

The image of his eyes and sound of his voice replayed the memories that you had tried to bury for the last two years, the memories that wedged into your soul and kept the black hole inside of you gaping.

They were the reason you were the way you were, the things you could never heal or forget. They kept you from restful sleep; they taunted you day after day.

Loki was undoubtedly the greatest heartbreak of your life.

The pain and rage you still felt from him leaving you was coming to the surface.

[moonsandmischief]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

fluff-🌸 | angst-🥀 | smut-💋

none yet!

—

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

fluff-🌸 | angst-🥀 | smut-💋

none yet!

—

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist

fluff-🌸 | angst-🥀 | smut-💋

none yet!

—

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

Loki Masterlist

fluff-🌸 | angst-🥀 | smut-💋

Series:

Broken Once, Bound Forever (Series Masterlist)

---

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

Marvel Masterlist

Loki

Wanda Maximoff

Natasha Romanoff

Bucky Barnes

---

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

this is so interesting and it’s been awhile! send some in!

asks (anon is on)

Moth ❧ What do you find attractive in a person? Doll ❧ Do you collect anything? Gravestone ❧ Have you lost anyone important to you? Roses ❧ Are you in love? Paper ❧ What are you currently reading? Locket ❧ Take a selfie. Milk ❧ Describe your family. Blood ❧ What is the worst injury you’ve gotten? Dust ❧ Talk about your past. Bible ❧ What are your moral views? Lace ❧ What kind of clothing do you wear? Angel ❧ What are your religious views? Ink ❧ Write a poem and post it. Dagger ❧ Tell one secret you have. Statue ❧ Who is your favorite artist? Candle ❧ What is your favorite scent? Absinthe ❧ Do you drink? Casket ❧ Do you believe in an afterlife?

[moonsandmischief]

y’all what if there’s more to this parallel? what if this was done on purpose... to clue into a relation between the two?

i mean think about it. kai’s real hair color is brown just like dandy’s.... idk just a thought as the writers have said that all the seasons are connected. i don’t know if ryan would just blatantly reuse lines without some connection..?

Freak show / Cult parallel

[moonsandmischief]

OMG! this was so good! i just don’t know where to start because there is so much to talk about!

first—the commitment you put into this is insane, i feel like a little fool compared to you because i can never make my works this long 😂😂 you are so freaking creative with how you think everything out—it just astonishes me! seriously there is so much in there that parallels between flashbacks and present. both the length in general and the way everything is thought out is so extensive in the best way possible. 🤪😁🤩

the fact that you can create something so vivid is just so shocking! you wrote so much but it never got boring and all added to the plot tremendously! 😆 you are seriously an author. like WOW. 🔥🔥🤩 i’m so excited to read 3.5! i’m kind of upset because i didn’t have enough time today to read both this and 3.5! but i promise girl i will respond fully to the specifics when i finish. i loved this part so much. can i just say that i love how well you write the other characters, both the ones you made and the show’s characters! you are literally amazing darling. 🤍

please everyone here on my tumblr, READ THIS! it is seriously so worth it to take the time to read it because it is literal perfection as far as literature goes.

you are a legit AUTHOR. I WILL NOT SHUT UP. thank you for making my afternoon so great 😌

Adam & Eve | Part III: The Green Little Fairy

Pairing: James March x Reader |  Part: (3 of 5)

Summary (Part Three): James shares a first dance with the bride of The Cortez, recalling a glorious nightmare of both life and death. Hazel Evers cries over her breakup. Liz Taylor introduces you to staff, in the cutest way possible. The Countess feels envious, after decades of pure apathy. This is the tale of the green little fairy. 

Warnings (To Part Three): Being a long term creative project, I literally wrote a BOOKS LENGTH LOL 🤣 I have posted Part III: The Green Little Fairy in TWO segments: Part 3 and 3.5. One will start in a past flashback; one will end in flashback (this one). So just keep that in mind when reading segment 3.5. 

‼️ (Posting 3.5 tomorrow due to technical difficulties) ‼️

Before I get started, please also take the time to go check out @evandearest​ beautiful series, ‘The Garden of Eden’! As it is not only SO inspiring and just downright an outstanding example of a literary masterpiece, but an absolutely breathtaking work of art featuring juxtaposition ideas, mixed with an exciting romance! It is definitely not something you want to miss, and such a treat if you’re a little book enthusiast like me. 😉 I love it so incredibly much. You are a gem, @evandearest​! ❤️

This chapter (Segment 3 and 3.5 included) is where things really get AHS twisted, creepy, dark, whatever other descriptions fit the fandom. It gets bloody, cause we’re dealing with James March here. There is death / slaughter / violence, and this part will really begin telling you and James’ story. It has a subtle build up to something big! 👀That’s all I’ll say; keep a look out for foreshadowing events (In both segments).

Do not read if any of the mentioned is triggering. 

Abuse in general (physical / mental / emotional), angst, arguments, alcohol, betrayal, blood, crime, cussing, cheating, demerit goods (e.g. smoking, drug mentions), death, fighting, fluff, guns, graphic descriptions, mortality, murder, mystery, mature themes, sexual suggestions (no smut), twisted religion / morality, theft, violence. 

It also includes two main original characters: Alistair Banks & Papa. There is also a bridesmaid named Missy (Minor character). They help tell the story and hence are incorporated. This was originally in third person, however morphed to second upon popular demand.

Author’s notes: This is chapter three of my James March x Reader series ‘Adam & Eve’ , after chapter two: ‘The Ring’. I recommend readers to read the series in order, because things begin to make sense in this chapter. Especially nearing the end! 🙊 Things in chapter one: ‘The Peony’ are greatly expanded here. ❤️ It may (or may not) be puzzling if you haven’t read Chapter I or II, as it has mentions of Eden and recurring themes or motifs. 

Due to the long length of this, Part III :The Green Little Fairy, is split into segments. THIS IS THE FIRST. 

I’ve added chapter indents within each segment of Part III, so readers can take a break from reading if they so choose.

The flashbacks are set from the 1925′s onwards (Important to consider when reading), however with modern day interactions at the Cortez, meaning near and around the end and finale of the show. Anything non-italicized is happening now. The next and final (?) chapter however will be entirely in the present. This means this is the last flashback! 🎉 

Despite its morbid dark themes, it’s fun because it has more characters— whether original or canon, and focuses on the relationship between you and James. It will give readers insight as to their “character” within the AHS fandom and especially in this fanfic. It was based originally on an original character, but written into second person for your enjoyment! 

The biblical inspiration behind this chapter is the more literal fall from paradise, not only within the inner workings of the characterization of Eve (Reader) we got to see in Chapter Two. Simply put, it’s like an actual kick out of the Garden of Eden. Religious allusion and symbolism are interwoven throughout. 

Nearly everything was juxtapositional in this chapter, from details, to orders of flashback memory; it was very fun to write, somewhat a great challenge for me too. I loved experimenting with every aspect of this. There are fun parallels too— I won’t spoil it here, but if you spot them you a real one! 

PLEASE NOTE THE MISS EVERS PART GOES FROM MODERN DAY INTO A FLASHBACK. It should be self-explanatory when you read it. 

Segment two of Part III: The Green Little Fairy WILL begin in a past flashback! It will be posted tomorrow, I apologize for the technical difficulties! 

I hope you enjoy my lovelies! 👼🏼

Work and school have really picked up my end. So, I really appreciate everyone’s patience. Feedback is always welcome and I truly appreciate all the love and support I’ve received whilst creating this so thank you all so much. I hope the length of this chapter (In segments) will compromise for the longer stand by time until Part 4 and 5 come out. That might be subject to change, depending on how long each chapter is.

This is a fan-fiction. Additionally it doesn’t change the original storyline of the show but molds into it, just like an OC would in a role-play. A disclaimer that I do not own AHS, it’s plot-line, or characters whatsoever, and they belong to their rightful owners; this was just a creative literature piece inspired by the fandom.

Tags: @evandearest​ @imwritingfromtheblock​

Small butterflies erupted in your stomach as you watched the whirring floors past you. You stood still within the red carpeted elevator adorned with golden art-deco interiors, only ever brushing your fingertips slightly against your form. Your hair was in curly waves, a new dress comfortably fitted around your waist; high-end powdered makeup on your prepossessing face. James March stood beside you quietly, the atmosphere between you both somewhat lewd and awkward as he fretted with the buttons of his vest, mind ticking as to the things he could say. After all, it had been almost ninety years. And— very rarely sometimes, your large eyes would avert around modestly, only ever catching James and his handsome jaw slightly. It wasn’t like James to get this self-conscious, yet with a girl like you and so much history interwoven it wasn’t surprising. But you’d always smile a reassuring, warm smile; ‘Just trying to diffuse the tension’, you would think, and it was as if he could hear that too, for before long James had to hold himself back from an impish grin. He always admired how starry-eyed and ingénue you could be— even at his slaughter house; the way you would always stay true to yourself. 

You had taken a nice, warm bath earlier, followed by James rummaging through his ex-wife’s closet in secret when you were in the bathroom of his office. By the looks of how cold you’d been, he was sure you would’ve caught a cold, even as a ghost. He told you to make yourself at home in his suite; so you did, frankly, and distracted yourself like a child taking a bubble bath. To the average person, The Hotel Cortez wasn’t a place to be tampered with and quite literally existed as a hell-mouth. Yet to you, it was your abode. Whatever you were given in life, you had an ability to make the best out of it— bringing it to perfection every time. And, as you blew your filmy lavender bubbles in the tub, James ran. He had even frightened Vendela and Agnetha in their room as they were making out with Mr. Wu, watching in vicious shock as the serial killer seemingly stormed in and raided their bathroom: of their bath bombs, tiny makeup bags, and sample size hand creams. He had been ecstatic about your sudden return, so much as to even leaving behind an outdated hundred dollar bill for them out of courtesy. March ran out so fast that by the time the three spirits had peeped out from behind their wooden door—clothed this time, he was gone. 

Subsequently, James continued to rummage every room of the hotel, for a smaller dress that could possibly fit you. Eventually he succeeded: a classy pearl-white dress that the Countess had hated back in 1929, when James had first gotten it for her. So, she’d passed it down to Liz Taylor. Elizabeth had tailored it before, and that’s why there was an elegant slit on the right side of the skirt. He knew it might be too risqué for you, yet it was the best he could do, given such short notice of your sudden arrival. The gown was full-length and timeless, embellished with flushed roses and their green woven petals— all around the high, feminine waistline, as well as the opaque white sleeves and slightly puffy skirt. If anyone else had worn it, they would have looked outdated and horrendous. Even Elizabeth Johnson couldn’t pull it off. Yet once again, for some reason, you could— for whatever anyone gave you, you hid in your vault, and brought it to perfection. The soft, silky fabric fitted your silhouette perfectly, accentuating your womanly features. So much that James found himself staring at you for way too long, especially when you weren’t paying attention.

The buttons within the elevator lit up in a way you had never seen before, having been born in the 1900’s. When it let out a ding your eyes widened in wonderment, the doors opening as James explained the miraculous works of modern technology to you. You nodded as you listened, and to everyones’ horror, James would crook a smile at you as he spoke— a genuine smile, his face appearing rather handsome with his perfected pencil-stache he’d spent extra time grooming whilst you were in your bubble bath.

“The modern world is an awfully uncomfortable place, don’t you think?” He asked, looking over towards you. 

He offered his larger hand towards you as he studied the gentle arch of your brow, his own bushier ones rising, magnetized by the appealing daze behind your [E/C] eyes. You took it innocently and stepped out of the lift as he spoke. 

“I know the accoutrements of modern living allow an ease of power supply and communication, yet the price paid for that is that no one actually sits and talks over a drink—” James paused, hesitantly, “—Would you care for a drink, darling?” 

You nodded, vacuously. The last time you were here, the Blue Parrot Lounge hadn’t been finished. 

“Is that why there’s a rip in my dress, James? From modern day accoutrements?” You asked. You wondered the possibility of trying a mint julep.

“Yes, my dear.” His accent drew out his consonants, an intrusive worry within his swarthy eyes when he thought of the possibility that you didn’t like your clothes. But they softened upon taking in your delicate features, which were somewhat blank. He sighed in relief before he focused onwards at the hallway in front of him, flickering ever so slightly towards the many residencies he knew of as he walked with a cane in one hand, you the other.

The ghoul guests, even if in hiding, all began secretly marveling at your majestic essence. For the flutter of your dress and the crunch of James’ leather boots was hard to ignore. James couldn’t blame them; you were quite the sight for sore eyes. He continued then, in a half-murmur: “You look positively gorgeous, darling.”

“And you look positively medieval, Jimmy.” You joked, curiously twiddling the chains of his pocket watch chained to his vest. 

March chuckled at your ability to always make him smile, to make him feel things, the way you’d ask him questions in your low, thrilling voice. It was amazing to him, absolutely amazing— how you could stimulate him by just your sheer presence. Your voice was literally a deathless song. And, unlike Elizabeth, you praised him in such a way any man in the world would so want to be eulogized. “What year is it, anyhow?”

The spirits within the Cortez halls took notice of how you both seemingly walked with a glide of aristocracy towards the Blue Parrot Lounge, even as they whispered amongst themselves. Will Drake appreciated your style; Sally jaundiced at it. The two Scandinavian tourists were delighted by your murmurs, all of a sudden holding in such esteem you had even used their makeup. It wasn’t that they could hear your conversations with James, however your chatter had the power to magnetize them in such a way they’d lean in front of their toes just to hear more of what was going on. James was wavering his cane up at the lighting fixtures and big chandeliers, going on about how they were inspired, almost as if trying to impress you. And you’d look up in amazement to let out a charming little laugh: “That’s a dream, James.” You would cry out, “An absolute dream.”

And the way James’ eyes looked at you immediately upon your every remark— they all knew. They all knew he loved you.

James took his time giving you the grand Cortez tour, allowing your hand to gently sneak in and link onto his arm, even if the air was still soundlessly ticklish and there was at times no direct conversation between the two of you. There was something comforting about that though, especially as you both walked through the hallways; something comforting about the fact he no longer had to put up a facade around you. 

Soon enough, he took you down the grand staircase, your feet tapping against the dark ceramic steps before you descended onto the carpeted lobby floor. You were back. Your shuffling feet came to a halt when you and James reached the center of the geometrically designed floors, surrounded by only two wooden tables and six maroon sofas. Smooth, modern jazz was playing from the bar above on the second floor, the rich saxophone sounds flowing down blissfully only to vitalize your ears. You began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before. James struggled slightly to try and transform the lounge space into a ballroom floor. It took him only seconds to nudge back the wooden tables a little, and once again with a swift turn and chivalrous bow he faced you, tossing his cane pertly on a rouge chair. This caused you to laugh; James and you looked like you both came out of a 1930’s romance movie. 

“It’s been quite a lengthy period, I know—” He started. “But [Y/N], my darling, would you do me the honor of joining me for the first dance?” 

You smiled brightly then, a gentle crinkle to your eyes, and a beam of an upturned smirk on the corners of your mouth. Curtseying back respectfully, you took his hand. “It only took you nine decades, sir.” And once again he chortled, before asking once more: “My darling, may I have your first dance?”

“But they’re watching us, James,” You mumbled. 

March closed his eyes then as he rested his cheek on the side of your gracious face; your voice— oh, the exhilarating charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle to it, the unforgettable cymbals’ song of it. The sweetness of it all. You were James’ deathless song. They’re supposed to watch you.

“Let them,” He took a deep breath inwards, smiling gently as his nose buried shamelessly into your hair, picking up your celestial scent. It was lavender, vanilla, and musk, and quite frankly smelled homey to him. “Let them envy you, my love.” He continued on, his voice a hushed whisper; a husky bedroom tenor only you could hear. 

And you hummed out in happiness then when you felt his larger hand intertwine with your own, almost instantaneously, even if his wedding band was still on his finger. The cooling silver seemingly sizzled against your warmer skin, even as a ghost. James March had never felt a more blessed day in his extensive life, dead or alive; you were together again, forever, this time— and to him, that one face, that one voice, that one very fact, erases a multitude of sins you’ve experienced with each other. And as you continued to dance with him, a paragon of perfection— your silhouette seemingly fit as an exact match to the stained glass windows that stood behind the Blue Parrot Lounge; the bride of The Cortez, as folks would call her— you were back. The wedding bells rang in the form of bluesy jazz, and fluttering his eyes shut, James fell into a reverie once more as he began savoring the very first dance alongside his never-ending romance. 

-♣-

Across your boeuf bourguignon and lyonnaise salad on the dining table, Alistair Banks sat directly across from you, in room seventy eight, standing up whilst explaining to everyone the types of graft wall street had been experiencing in New York City the previous year. James felt both proud as to have made a name of himself high enough to sit among the people of the old-money east—in his very own murderer palace in Los Angeles too— but also uneasy at the presence of such prestigiousness. This was especially the case for Alistair Banks, whom he thought of as a major competitor. Not only for you, but for the fact he owned three hotels too.

When you told your father as to your true feelings about your arranged engagement, and about James March, he couldn’t help but feel genuine contentment for you despite being clouded with preconceived notions about new-money men. You have always been your fathers most beloved child. Whenever you’d chided with your soft, sweet voice, ‘But he’s just like me, papa!’, your father couldn’t help but give in— even though he’d demanded to see James Patrick March for himself. It was an understatement to say your father was relatively pleased, though also intimidated, by the vigorous passion within the boy that once built your garden fence and marquee. Either way, the wedding of [Y/N] [Y/L/N] and Alistair Banks had been intermittently cut off until further notice; it was the talk of the whole town for a while, despite your family’s attempt to make it appear less scandalous and more of a technical error.

In fact, they blamed it all on wall-street. And, despite it booming in the 1925’s, it had it’s falls which had been your very saving grace. 

At first, they’d link the issues of money to jobs, which linked to money needed for renting vacation villas, which linked to excuses of an inability to find the perfect honeymoon location. And everyone knew [Y/N] must have the perfect honeymoon location. Alistar took refuge in the basis too, for he had ruined his own reputation through his own infidelity, which made it to the papers the night you’d left New York for California. Banks had crashed his Chevrolet into a lorry and ripped out the front wheel of his car, the girl with him also making the news because she broke her nose. What was most amazing was how unfazed you had been from it all; it was like you hadn’t encountered a day of stress throughout your whole life— that Alistar had done nothing wrong, for you had been so happy with James. You genuinely thought they were just rumors. 

“There are two kinds of gaft,” said Alistar, “—that ought to be wiped out by law. That’s wall street speculation and recent burglaries.” 

Banks had shining but arrogant eyes, which favored fixating on James before setting upon you. He somehow appeared domineering, like he was always aggressively leaning forward. “I trust you gentlemen understand what I’m on about.”

“I believe you’ve forgotten about the lady of the house,” James pointed out, gesturing a hand over towards you picking at your last crumbs of french coconut pie. A lovely smile curled onto your lips hearing your chosen suitor get called out by James, and Alistar disregarded his comment awkwardly with a gentle scratch of his head. You loved this about James; how progressive he was, despite his murderous tendencies. The subtext in the room was incredible.

“Must we always talk about money, Alistar?” You queried innocently, “Why do we always talk about money?”

“Nearly everyone would agree with you as one of them, my boy,” said Papa to Banks, with a laugh. James’ guffawed alongside the banter, seeming somewhat dramatic; laughs were always redundant when it came to the east, whether you were richistanis or not. 

“I think burglaries ought to be wiped out first,” Alistar added, looking over towards you in particular when he spoke. You looked at him absently and excused him with a fluttering blink; you were like expensive property to him, and Alistar had suspicions James had wormed into the estate through unlawful means.

Though no one said anything, Alistar could pick up on when his women seemed disinterested, let alone a girl he was engaged to. He had chosen you because you were good-natured, beautiful, pure, and gallant; the daughter of a man he used to work under. Now it was your arranged husband who stood on top, on top of all the wall street markets and things. He owned three hotels— one in the West, not that you cared to learn about. And with you so inexperienced when it came to hiding your genuine fondness, it was evident James Patrick March— though socio-economically lower, stood above him when it came to matters of affection. 

And that bothered Alistar greatly, even if he thought you were still his little virgin.

“Remember three months ago when we had bad company?” His voice was loud, “There are two times in a man’s life when he does this— when he’s dead broke, and when he’s living rich.” He took a bite out of his sliced buttered baguette then, his voice suggestive, “Wouldn’t you agree, James?” 

“Alistar’s been reading profound books lately,” You murmured with an expression of unthoughtful sadness, hoping March didn’t take offense in what Alistar had said. “I think he’s joking, though his jokes aren’t very funny…” 

James merely mused a grin at your whisper, admiring your soft locks of hair and the way your eyes glimmered underneath his chosen lighting fixtures. You were both charming people, but very antisocial. At least in the sense you’d both greatly enjoyed one another’s company; so much to the point you and James both loved with such intensity that infidelity or even flirtations would not be tolerated. No matter how hypocritical. He took a sip of his drink politely as he thought about that, only to have been slightly startled by Papas’ bark.

“James!” 

Your father broke into the silence, almost defiantly, “Are you fond of French liqueurs?” 

And this had been your religiously pious father.

Alistar sighed, rolling his eyes indiscreetly at the old mans’ attempt at fun. Things were about to go from bad to worse.

But James saw you, then; it was as if a shock of electricity jolted through you for your eyes suddenly held a mischievous sparkle. March watched you as you controlled yourself, your chaste eyes staring at him straight. It was as if you had a secret to tell him, for he felt your feet nudging him underneath the table. It was almost cheeky, and we all know he couldn’t help but cock a subtle smile at that. 

“I’ll tell you a family secret,” You whispered, enthusiastically. Your smile dimpled as you exhibited the excitement of a youthful church girl, animated at the thought of missing Sunday school. “I bet it’s about the sugar-cube ritual. Would you like to know about the sugar-cube ritual?”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone have such fascination over a sugar-cube, dearest.” He replied. God you were so cute. 

As if sporadically at your last word, a bottle of Absinthe was placed on the table with a gentle put. The liquid was a bright green. 

“[Y/N]’s always been silly,” Papa continued, “What she means is the absinthe ritual— and you must excuse her as she gets very excited. It’s because I’ll never let her have any. After all, the extent one would go to protect their most beloved child…” 

You beamed at your fathers last remark.

“I bet James can do it straight, papa,” You speculated leaning forward, your voice singing and glowing. Alistar seethed on the other side of the room, your father letting out a hearty laugh to try and diffuse the tension between you two. At the very back of your head, you couldn’t help but wonder who would win if they were placed in a cage together: the secret killer or the serial cheater. To you, James March and Alistair Banks both sinned equally— even if a normal lad would clearly point out for James to be in the wrong. But you thought Alistar was a little more cruel. You hummed:  “I’ll be on your team, Jimmy.” 

James raised his eyebrows at the ongoing conversation in the room, especially when your father started to scold you for getting too into talk of wines and spirits. March had known you to be very popular back east, even when it came to your church potlucks or Sunday gatherings. Thus it’s fair to say he knew your family moved with a fast crowd; many of them were young, rich and wild. Yet you came out with the utmost perfect reputation— a purity he didn’t know could even come to exist. And perhaps it really was because you didn’t drink. Or smoke either, for the matter, even though you’d found smog so beautiful, especially when cigars were smoked by handsome businessmen like James Patrick March. 

In fact, a slightly buzzing Alistar had used that as his next chess move. He lit flames within his own blunt just to capture your attention. And you couldn’t help it, especially when he puffed; your widened eyes stared in both inferiority and amazement, your dulcet voice following shortly after. “You look so cool,” You complimented. “You look so cool Ali.” He smirked at his nickname.

And it was a great advantage; not drinking in front of hard-drinking people. For one, you could hold your tongue, or better yet time any irregularity of your own whilst everybody else is too blind or hungover to see. 

“A complimentary gift from us, Mr. March— a thank you for having us. [Y/N] had told us you’re still building the Blue Parrot Lounge, so we brought the bar to you, the best way we know how.” 

You looked over to James gently as your papa spoke, your face innocent and with a smile. Reaching out with no hesitance, your hand sweetly gave his bigger palm a small squeeze, as if you were the one hunting him now like the first night he held your hand in prayer. And it remained there, much to Alistars demise, for the rest of the evening. 

That is, your hand only remained on his until your father mentioned a sighting of a flower trolly down the street. 

You beamed at the sound of lavenders. And though James had offered to come with you, you assured him it was only a moment until you would be back. Besides, everything was going so well! You trusted papa the most— and you’d secretly hoped for James and him to bond. Your one almighty God, alongside your biological one of course. It was true: You and James have been like family from the start.

But things got from bad to worse. Even if you did get to purchase a tiny lavender bouquet. 

When you returned to the Cortez there was a quietus quality in the air; Papa and Alistar had left, according to the front desk. But they’d left some suitcases here, almost as if allowing you to spend the night. 

“Where’s Mr.March?” You inquired at the front desk.

“Room sixty-four, miss [Y/L/N]. I make it he doesn’t wish to be disturbed—”

“Says who,” You insisted, and politely too. “Who’ll escort me there?” 

The concierge had no choice but to shoot darting eyes at the bellboy to get on with his duties. The young boy did, however he left you right after the two of you reached his office door. You even gave him a sprig of lavender then, for you felt bad for the poor boy. He looked somewhat like a wet puppy that’d witnessed a thunderstorm for the first time in his life. And you didn’t blame him— the bellboy, for something did feel very off in the Hotel Cortez. It was as if something suddenly became impaired; like a shift was happening in the air. You felt a queasiness befall your chest as your wrist flickered gently on the wooden door labeled sixty-four. To your surprise, James answered it promptly— almost as if expecting you.

“Your wedding will be at the Cortez, [Y/N].” 

Things really did shift, fast too.

He tried to keep his voice free of emotion, so it came out quite deadpan. Underneath it all, however, to say James was heartbroken would be a drastic understatement.

And you blinked, lips slightly agape as you froze midway through your greeting.

“My wedding?” You asked.

“Tomorrow. They’ve put it back on, and invited me too.” He stated. His index finger and thumb groomed his pencil mustache, the handsome features on his face in intrusively deep thought. It had been a moment of silence before he licked his lips to prep himself once more before speaking, his eyes looking directly at your smaller frame. Then, in a mellow murmur: “I really need you to go away now, hummingbird— far from me now…” 

There was an urgency in James’ voice, as if your one hour absence quickened something within him. And by the way he was leaning towards the heels of his shoes as opposed to the front, you knew something was going on, something going on within and without him in which he’d so desperately wanted to run away from. That was the thing about you and James March; you read him like an open book. In a way, he did too. For your relationship was deep, fated, committed. But you just stood there utterly confused.

“James, I don’t understand—”

“[Y/N]!” He snapped, almost in the same way his father had yelled at him all those years back.

Your eyes widened at James’ sudden roar of a reprimand, the bouquet in your hands dropping at your initial jump at his scare. He notices this however, and promptly corrects his behavior. He soothed a hand down the front of his suit, trying to keep his composure.

“Excuse my temper, darling…” 

He blamed it on the alcohol, the absinthe. 

“I’ve had… too much to drink tonight. And I know you don’t approve of such a thing.” He was bad at excuses, at least when it came to you.

You gently tilted your head, those wonderful eyes gleaming in concern as your eyebrows turned downwards, as much as they also shone in curiosity. But when James avoided your gaze, you looked away too and shifted your focus back down to your broken lavender bouquet, bending down gently to pick them up one by one. ‘Perhaps a little gift ought to do him right’, you thought.

“Well Jimmy, I got these for—”

“My darling, you should go.” He said suddenly, cutting you off. And this time James paid no attention to the lavenders you got for him out of goodwill. It seemed like he did that on purpose, too. 

However the way his accent drawled out each syllable smoothly, the way his eyes looked towards you immediately as you bent down guiltlessly— you knew. You knew he loved you. For James bent down instantly with you, picking the flowers up with you, before settling them into your hands, his two two larger ones clasped over your very own. The rigidity within those eyes melted away as he looked at you from his position knelt on the floor; those dark brown eyes searching yours until they were replaced by the warmth of a thousand suns, replaced by the richness like the dark soil of your gardens always fertile with life. There was something in those beautiful eyes of yours… something in that sweet melodic voice. And, once more James felt himself propelled to get closer to you, this time through extensive means of fixing your hair whilst you were both knelt on the floor. Your eyes— they burned so vacantly. His darkness was engulfed in it, your light, trying to absorb as much as he could. And it somehow made you feel nervous as well as flattered at the same time. You went on, never really aiming for anything at all; there was just something in that sweet voice of yours.

“But I really want to love you…” you whispered into the space between his mouth and your own. Your budding friendship had bloomed into something more; you’ve been through separation together— fell into temptation, together. And once again James fell, this time trying to resist you by pulling away and getting up. He turned his back towards you. Yet still, with your every breath, he fell.

“Who do you love, [Y/N]?” He asked. His voice held a gruffness that was overwhelmingly masculine and powerful. 

“I love you.” You confessed, still on the floor. 

A pause.

“But…”

You got up.

“But?”

James March was your almighty God. But Papa had been your creator too.

“I love my father too.” You said.

And this, this James could not relate to.

“I’m certain papa wishes for me to be with you, James.” You began lightly.

Furthermore, you stepped into room sixty-four, gently clicking close the door behind you as you did so. 

“He knows you saved me that night. Back home?” You remembered, your bright eyes looking over to James, even if it was only the back of his suit now. 

He dipped his head as he seemingly leaned his weight slightly on his office desk, which sat in front of his vault door.

Silence permeated the air between the two of you until he let out a long sigh. However, it was you who spoke.

“We’re so alike, James.” You needled delicately, your voice lovely even as it spoke with sorrowful persuasion. 

There was an absence to your voice, one which showed that you sometimes get foolish ideas in your head and didn’t know what you were doing or getting yourself into. And James, being a man that so wanted to control the world around him, had a love-hate relationship when it came to  babying you about subjects such as affection. 

“Your father wants you with Mr. Banks.” He explained, coldly. It was rigid and unemotional, and difficult to hear.

And you always told the truth, religiously so— for James March was stubborn, like you.

“That’s not true—” You denied, matter-of-factly. “He’s always wanted the best for me, James. And you were always at church with us—”

“It is, though!” He yelled out aggressively.

Now you were the one who was hurt. Suddenly, just like that, it appeared that James didn’t care about you anymore. Suddenly, he made up his mind to shut off all his emotions, and you found yourself knitting your eyebrows together as you couldn’t help but feel absolutely pre-owned. Like a commodity, a tool, a whore; you had done a deed with him in which you held onto sacredly, having been brought up so religious. And now he was to throw you away to Alistar Banks, a man you didn’t want, or care for? To top it off, it was as if he didn’t care at all. It was as if room seventy two had been some joke he made for a pretentious one night stand. And, as your mind leered on the topic, your head tilted down pessimistically to the lavenders clasped within your opaquely gloved hands, fretting at them gently almost as if distracting yourself so you wouldn’t cry.

“Take your lavenders and go, [Y/N]. You’ve reached an age you ought to know things better— that you can’t keep such silly ideas in your head. That you can’t have everything at once.” James’ speech was rapid, and came out with a hiss. But still, it showed he held no rancor, not at you, anyways.You raised your eyebrows almost as if surprised at his sudden mood swing, and only licked your lips gently, as if ready to rebuttal. But you didn’t. You held your tongue. And just continued arranging your pretty lilac flowers.

At your prolonged silence James turned his head, like a male stag now, and looked at you. And now there was something in those somber eyes of his. A sense of a plea, an idea, an asking-for-permission.

“What?” You asked softly.

And yet another silence. But his eyes met yours gently once more. The warmth in them glowed with dualistic compulsion, a desire, a delicate delinquency. He needed more light; more void; more clarity. Everything seemed so contradictory. 

“Don’t marry Alistar tomorrow.” James warned. His voice was firm but silky.

“What?” You asked again.

“Don’t marry Alistar.” 

“Who is Alistar?” You asked innocently. 

-♣-

“Well?” Agnetha prodded onwards suddenly, looking at a recently banished Hazel Evers. “Tell us the rest of the story.”

“It was the most horrific stain I had ever seen,” 

“But did you clean it?” whispered Vendela, leaning forwards on her elbows. Miss Evers looked around the bar hesitantly at the others before nodding slowly.

“She must’ve been the devil incarnate…” Mr. Wu said in a surfer boy accent. 

“Well… no.” Hazel responded.

Mr. Wu was sat by the bar shirtless, eager to hear more. It had been the case too for Liz Taylor, just she wore clothes, and even Tristan— however lost he was, only ever slightly glancing up from his couture magazine when there was a pause. John Lowe stood drinking his whisky ginger, glancing down directly by the indoor balcony where he could see you and James. Iris watched alongside him as she sat on a red cushioned chair, gazing down the ledge of the open porch towards the first floor where the lovers continued to dance. She even cranked up the 1920’s jazz she got from American Dime Stores, somewhat fan-girling over the chivalrousness of it all. There was an air of serenity to everything— an air of innocence; no ones’ ever witnessed James so non-violent before.

The ghosts of the Cortez were currently huddled by the Blue Parrot Lounge, listening intently as Hazel Evers shared her long distant memories of [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. 

“—No, quite the opposite,” Hazel continued. With that she began.

“I had to work extra diligently that week, the day of her wedding. Of course, back then I didn’t know what for— just Mr. March said his friends were coming in from New York to review the place. Something about business. Either way, I was walking along from one place to another, picking up my cleaning supplies from the old market just down the street. I was happy because I had on my new apron that fitted so perfectly over my uniform, the apron which James had given me himself…” 

Miss Evers smiled for a moment before it faltered into a look of exhaustion and misery; she was banished from James’ presence now. She took a moment before continuing, almost as if about to cry from the most wretched heartbreak of her life.

“It would blow a little in the wind— my apron, and it was spotless until I reached the front sidewalk of the hotel. A white roadster was parked beside the curb on the grass which we used to have on the streets. Suddenly the engine rumbled with a boom and my apron was pitch black from the leaking oil as I heard a little gasp. It sounded like a girl— but when I looked up it had been Mr. March who looked back at me from the driver’s seat. And there she was… right beside him. She looked just twenty— or younger. She was by far the most popular of all the young girls I’ve ever seen, people calling her name as they passed us on the streets. The hotel concierge got bombarded that week with calls requesting all for miss [Y/L/N]. She dressed in white, a white flower in her hair, white shoes, the white car belonging to her I suppose… She had the most beautiful laugh, one which made James turn his head every time. They were so engrossed in each other that neither of them noticed me until I was five feet away and ready to head into the hotel…”

“Hello, Miss Evers,” You called unexpectedly. “Please, come here.”

Hazel was very flattered by your speech, knowing that most would’ve just regarded her by her first name. More so, the laundress felt honored to speak to you, because out of all women she’s ever seen in her physical life, she admired you the most. No one she knew of, including James March, held such charm and poise, all the whilst being so polite about it in the process. She thought that you must’ve been the friend James had talked so extensively about. Hazel didn’t know why she was flattered by you; there was just something in that voice of yours.

You reached out your small gloved hand, a business card between your fingertips. Hazel took it hesitantly from you with a half-bow, almost as if nervous.

“Please excuse me,” You apologized, “I know a small designer just west of here. She can suit you up just fine, and free of charge too. Just show her this.” And as you spoke Miss Evers noticed the way James March looked at you; he looked at you in such a way that every young girl would dream of being looked at. Including herself.

“…or perhaps James could take you?” You finished off, and that was when she snapped out of her little trance. At your question Hazel began to reject your offer, profusely. 

March didn’t seem very invested, even if he was the one that ruined her new apron with the leaking gas of the vehicle. To him, he had more important things to do, such as fixing your car he’d gotten for you overnight, seeing you had to leave a while back to Alistar and Papa. You told him you were going to convince your father once more. And, James Patrick March was just about ready to do anything for you, so long as you promised to return to him. As long as you promised to return to Eden. 

“She’s a laundress, my darling. I’m sure she can take care of herself.” He said, polishing the wheel of your new drive. 

James waved her off carelessly; a signal to go prepare the Hotel Cortez for your wedding… even if he had hoped your father would come around. He wanted to take you to Mr.Banks’ hotel himself, yet at the thought that the gentleman already thought of him as an intrusion, he didn’t want to push it. Not yet, at least; after all, he’d technically made love to Alistars wife. The way you had been so popular with all the young officers and businessmen, too, added to your value— at least in James’ mind. And James, for the first time in his life, was worried about appearing too suspicious in front of everyone. In a way, he knew he would unethically bend anything in life just to end up with you, but for now the wedding requests, the want for Eden, the needs— they all had to come from you. Even he needed to know that you wanted him above Alistar before he’d dare to make a move.

When your engine revved a noise, James snapped back into the present. You somehow took over the wheel and with a firm hand he steadied yours on it, another on his hat as he called your name for you to stop. Though you merely drove a millimeter, James felt the pulse in his chest pound. 

“My God— You’re a rotten driver!” He protested with a laugh. He was somehow excited by it all. “Now [Y/N], you ought to be more careful dear, or you oughtn’t drive at all.”

“I am careful.”

“No— darling you’re not.” He said again, laughing.

“Well, other people are,” You said lightly.

“What’s that got to do with us?”

“They’ll keep out of my way,��� You insisted, a joking little smile on your face. “Don’t forget it takes two to cause a scene, you’re the genius who avidly got me a car.” You pecked his cheek.

And soon James found himself gently kissing the hollows of your temple back as he stepped out of the car, allowing you to get in the driver’s seat. He then requested an extensive debrief of what you were going to do that day: “I’m going to get pancakes from that place, then I’ll fetch Papa, then he wants to check out that place, and an old doctor friend who’s moved here from the park…”. 

Any sane person would question the way in which James so desperately needed to track your every move. But he only kissed you lovingly on the lips, before watching as you drove off, carefully this time— hoping for some luck in your persuasion. 

But you didn’t succeed. 

And instead, the following day got interesting to say the least. 

You had your small hours of hope to hold onto, just the memories of past midnight the night before, your lavender bouquet tossed carelessly on the bedside table in Eden, where you and James, who isn’t an affectionate man at all, gave most of his affection to you. It was humdrum as it was romantic; the way you two could disagree but still trust each other like man and wife. Even if you both felt a sense of inability to be wed to one another, you both still hoped, holding onto it like rope; for you were the first man and first woman of God: Adam and Eve.

Though you yourself knew it to be inappropriate— even if it was only in the emotional aspects of it, you could not refuse your forbidden relationship with James even as a soon-to-be wed off woman to Alistar. You had so much history with one another, to which you guys could talk about for hours non stop and never get tired; and James talked a lot about the past with you. If anyone were to fully observe James, you’d have gathered that James desperately wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving you. Maybe he missed parts of himself before he gave you your first kiss, before he was separated from you, for he hadn’t been as murderous as he was now back then when he was with you.

Thinking back, twilight hours in Eden were the only times you would wear his ruby ring, too. March had assured your father he had worked during ungodly hours, which was a half truth given how he’d chronically over-plan things— and this was the only valid excuse Alistar had taken for letting you stay at the Cortez overnight. You had returned too late with your bouquet of lavenders anyways and he wasn’t going to make you wander the streets alone at night. In a way, Alistair Banks wanted to show you he trusted you.

Papa too, wanted you to be happy before the day of your wedding, and you supposedly were… cuddling and sleeping soundly next to James. A part of you felt papa knew you to have loved him truly, for he allowed you your last binges of fun before becoming an official Mrs.Banks. And somehow, the lack of sex between you and James, excluding some tentative kisses and sensuous caressing you both couldn’t resist giving each other in the dark— it somehow added to the intimacy of it all. James remembered your words from that night for the rest of his life; your sweet murmurs of “You know I love you.” Then the gentle kisses, to which he’d  teasingly coo to.

“What a low, vulgar girl you are [Y/N].” 

He would smirk and kiss your neck playfully, “My mischievous little angel…”

But when you had woken up in Eden… you were alone, the red ring gone from your finger. Much like how alone you felt now, coming back in your white gifted roadster, surprised at the sight of how decorated the Cortez had become after you drove away for the daylight hours. A confused expression clouded your face; it was as if James knew it was too good to be true— the thought of being wed to you. 

When you pushed through the vintage paneled doors and into the hotel, scurrying up the stairs, you were alone— yet you searched desperately for James. There was something quite endearingly mad about it; the way you’d look for him, so uneasily too, and say to everyone: “Where’s James gone to?” You had an eventful day, with Papa, with doctors, with friends, yet nothing matched being next to your childhood friend March. 

From what you could make out at the Cortez, James left many choices of condiments for you in regards to food. But once again, you’d have to dine alone— and you certainly didn’t want to whilst people decorated the place for your wedding day. Then the hour struck and papa returned with new guests and greeted you, people came at you from the left, right and center to get you all dolled up for your big day. Yet you had also been alone, absolutely perplexed as to how James seemingly vanished. You had your hopes up a second though when you heard Alistars’ voice booming in the halls upon arrival at the Cortez; ‘Mr. March!’, he’d say, most definitely also offering his broad, flat hand with well-concealed dislike, but by the time you’d dashed out from behind the scenes and around the corner to see them, James was gone. It was like he was a ghost.

Not seeing him upset you greatly, especially given you hadn’t even said goodbye. Hadn’t apologized, though you didn’t need to, for your ‘Yes, James. I do.’ was moaned in love and not matrimony. Still, with such ingénue naivety, you felt bad. You thought you’d reached a happily-ever-after yet you were back at square one, absolutely hurt at March’s sudden disinterest towards you— and your flowers too. 

In fact, it only made your mind tick more. Soon you found yourself only able to think about the weird incident in room sixty-four; the conversation you both had together the night prior. You were both extremely closed mouthed, you and James— yet intuitively linked. And you felt like he would do something, say something; he’d walk up and face your father to profess his undying love for you, and then you could wear his gorgeous ring instead of Alistar’s. Then Banks could no longer force you to be his wife anymore. After all, James had made it— right? He was one of you now. An upper easter, filthy rich— with a hotel of his own. 

But no. Instead he just disappeared. No trail, no explanation, no final words. Poof. He was gone.

There was humidity in the air, having been a spring wedding and almost summer. But the light which shone into the Cortez that early Sunday was breathtaking, almost as if it knew of your marriage ceremony. At the end of each seated aisle, vanilla scented candles and pale orchids hung from naked indoor tree branches. It looked quite elegant even when paired with art deco, and spread down the aisle was a soft golden carpet, decorated with delicate petals, both fresh and dry— spread as far as the eyes could see. The hotel was filled to the brim with white florals, to the point it began to look like the great outdoors or a fancy greenhouse. There were peonies, roses, tulips, freesias, baby’s breath and more; the scent of it all together was magnificent. The guests were opulent, dressing even fancier than James himself. Some close family and friends wore business casual for comfort, but the majority of men wore fine suits alongside their ladies in pretty dresses and all. On either side of the aisle, they sat in lavishly white cushioned chairs, setup especially for them on the glossy floor. It was an absolutely beautiful wedding. The only thing missing from it all was God. And despite it’s utmost perfection, that was enough for you to not want it. For what’s the garden theme, what’s the Garden of Eden, without Adam and his Eve? You didn’t want any of it.

Backstage, to which was an old lounge room by the kitchen, you felt absolutely sick to your stomach as one of your bridesmaids scurried inside to find you. She was a quoted friend, holding a clipboard and small purse, and had a large bandage on her nose. You could’ve sworn it was the girl that made the papers with Alistar.

“[Y/N]! You look exquisite!” There was a fakeness in her tone, “You need to breathe… can you do that for me hon’?”

“Of course I can breathe,” You said to her sardonically, “I just need—” 

You paused, eyeing her wearily before reaching for a small pack of cigarettes on her clipboard. Her eyes were wide with shock, because you never smoked before. You were the golden girl; daughter of a kingly figure known well in near and distant churches by every pastor in town. Up high in an art-deco palace, or garden, if that’s what you preferred— an absolute, golden girl. Yet you were behaving abnormally, having been so upset. Missy let out a squeal: “[Y/N] what are you doing?” 

When you shrugged her off, she squeaked again. That only annoyed you more. You didn’t understand what Alistar saw in her. 

“You can’t smoke, [Y/N], the smell of smoke will get in your clothes!”

“I don’t care!” You cried with effort, and you began to try and light the ciggy between your fingers. As you did so, your hand, it was trembling. Soon, with an unsuccessful try, you sighed whilst you threw the burning cigarette and match on the carpet, causing an ashy burn on the ground. The paper unrolled gently as the tobacco fell out. Your bridesmaid and Miss Evers bent down instantaneously, butting their heads together in the process of cleaning it up. 

You needed your James. James March. Your James Patrick March; Your God.

From then on you didn’t say another word, Hazel to your right seemingly preparing spirits of ammonia whilst dabbing a cool cloth on your shoulders, watching you nervously as if she didn’t know what to expect from you next. She helped hook you into your wedding dress, tightly too, securing the shining pearls around your neck, ensuring your little freak-out was over. You could have sworn you felt her full eagerness of wanting you wedded off with Alistar Banks, and away from Mr. March.

Though Hazel couldn’t have been more wrong. For you beat her with your meek little compulsion, underneath all that materialistic perfection. You always got what you wanted, for you always thought about the future of man’s law, in Gods’ law, especially as a woman in the 1925’s. Unification with God was all you wanted. Something you’d devoted to so religiously ever since a child; God was your purpose. And perhaps that was what you saw in James Patrick March— the godliness behind his progressivism. His ability to see ahead of things; to create the hotel, like how God created people. His eccentricity. For you wondered why you couldn’t choose your lover; why you always needed to attend Sunday night suppers. James never faced problems like that, for he had the ability to do bad to do good— to control things carefully; something you knew nothing about. For one, why couldn’t you be with James? Why were you separated from Adam? Why, as the feminine principle of Eve, did you have no voice when it came to worldly things? Why couldn’t you eat from the forbidden tree? For Eve was tempted by the serpent, even if cluelessly. And as Adam’s own rib, she felt a compulsive little rebellion towards her own creator— even if out of love and curiosity.

You excused yourself by sliding out of the room. 

And once again, it was all at the merciful hands of God.

The hotel was locked up before the guests arrived, James having been afraid of intruders coming in that might do you and your riches harm. And you bumped into him and Alistair Banks walking together side by side down the large hallway of the Cortez then, talking like men, passing the two same wooden tables and six cushioned chairs. It was quiet, for it was only the three of you in the hall. There were glasses of green liquor in their hands— and James froze immediately as he saw you, the gentlemanly bantering quieting abruptly. It was hours before the wedding, and by the looks of it, both men were as nervous about their own sins as you were about walking down the aisle. Banks took notice of you only after Mr.March. And Alistar looked away at first with a chuckle, for it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. 

James however puffed his big cigar, long and hard, eerily still— his dark brown eyes in awe at the sight of you. You looked back at him in your wedding dress, for the first time in your life seemingly indirectly disobeying him. You were going to marry Alistar. 

And your eyes met then, the way they had met last night when you spoke in room sixty-four. There was something in those beautiful eyes of yours… something in that sweet gentle voice. And, once more James felt himself propelled to get closer to you, this time only able to by exhaling his nicotine smoke so slowly the clouds took their time to swirl over and tickle your nose. His eyes got more and more lost in yours the more puffs he took. For your eyes, they burned so clear and carelessly. His darkness was engulfed in it, your light, trying to absorb as much as he could. And it somehow made you feel nervous as well as flattered at the same time. So you went on, this time however aiming for one thing in mind. Unification with God. 

James March and [Y/N] stared together at each other, alone— in space. You were the prettiest flower of them all; prettier than the flower walls, prettier than the chandelier ornaments glowing through the halls. Pretty enough to get away with anything and everything if you so wanted to. You were a real life timeless perfection the Hotel Cortez even had a hard time competing against; A real life fallen angel, a sweet alibi. 

And then it happened; there was just something in that sweet little voice of yours.

“You look so cool.” You said innocently, eyes flickering over James’ burning cigar. “You look so cool, Mr. March.”

Alistar’s eyes jerked violently towards you then. Mr. March? 

You had told him you loved him— you had told James that, and Alistair saw. He knew something was up, that James didn’t just magically happen to work at midnight. And he was astounded. His mouth opened a little, and he looked at James, then back at you as if he had just recognized you as someone he once knew long ago. Then, the bridesmaid with the bandaged nose scurried out quickly behind you, awkwardly bumping into your back as she grabbed with her hands the ruffled tail of your wedding dress. She was about to excuse herself but you pulled on her wrist, exceptionally tight; a commandment for her to stay. She looked down.

“Good evening, Mr. Banks,” She greeted, yet your arranged husband paid her no attention this time. 

Instead, Alistar stepped closer to you slowly, his eyes still flashing between James and you. His jaw cocked in a menacing way as he forced a smile. His hand, trembling with effort at self-control, bore his glass to his lips as he swallowed his last drops of absinthe, fingers trailing then your expensive pearls. He tugged on them bringing you closer, placing a venomously vigorous kiss on your lips as he did so.

“What’s the matter now, princess?” Alistars’ temper cracked a little under his attempt at a coo. “You know it’s bad luck to see me before tonight…” He swayed his finger whilst holding his glass cup, chiding you like a baby. This was the closest thing you’d gotten with him the whole time you’ve been together. “Are you that eager to be my wife? Hm, [Y/N]?”

Your hand gripped harder around your bridesmaid’s wrist, and she stared intently at her shoes, somewhat hurt at the sight of Alistar with you. And your empty eyes didn’t leave James’ handsome face, those dewy orbs immobile for the first time as he felt you staring into his very soul. 

Alistar continued. “I want to know everything that’s been going on, my dear little hummingbird.” 

And at his nickname of you, you watched indifferently as a familiar James Patrick March emerged, the man clenching his jaw together so tight you saw visible veins by his temples, a familial tremor in his hand as he put out his large blunt with two careless taps on a nearby couch. He gulped down his liquor in one go and continued to denigrate the cigar with the bottom of his lowball glass on the seat, almost as a distraction for himself. His eyes flashed over towards you and a familiar coldness washed over his gaze as his eyes then focused on Mr. Banks. And James fought hard, he did. He fought fiercely to remain calm. With effort he looked away from you both. And at that, you innocently smiled.

The only difference was he wasn’t head-butting his father this time, but internally at himself. His hand reached for his cane, which he gripped so tight the top part snapped off with a crackle under his murderous hand. James gazed at his own error, steadying his wooden stick so it wouldn’t clank against the floor. He breathed, listening intently to the silent conversation between you both, and you seemingly breathed with him as he did so. After some time, he remained steady as he eventually triumphed his own rage with control. That is— until Alistar spoke.

“Have you not learnt one thing in church of how one shan’t commit adultery!?” Alistar shouted out at you frantically, his eyes flashing green with jealousy. 

“I have. And you’re certainly one to speak.” You muttered back, somewhat timid. 

And James March watched, his eyebrows furrowing with frustration as Alistar Banks began raising his voice at you. More so, when he started attempting to lie. 

“You know I love you, [Y/N].” Alistars’ voice dropped octaves lower, almost as attempting to reason with you. “We all make mistakes love, and you know I do. And I know publicity can get messy— but in my heart, I always love you.” 

He paused to admire your delicate face, your breaths mingling as you relaxed from the familiar smell of lavender and mint of your acquainted partnership. You felt yourself pursing your lips together as tears welled up in your eyes, clearly hurt from the confirmation of the whole thing. You let go of the bridesmaids’ wrist in the process. 

“Now, I didn’t mean to criticize you. I think your friend realizes that his uncivil little flirtation is over.” Alistar smirked, knowing his manipulation was working. And James growled. He continued: “Mrs. Banks… I’m going to take better care of you now, I promise. We’ll start with church together, anything you want.”

Empty promises them all.

Yet your childlike eyes couldn’t help but falter slightly in sorrow at his blithe words, unsure of what to say next. Instead a single tear escaped your eye and dropped onto Jame’s furnished carpets. 

Missy did though. In fact, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“There you go again!” She cried at Alistar. “It’s always about [Y/N]!”

It was as if she was more emotionally worked up than you about Banks. And, some time forwarded towards the evening as Alistar Banks and her stood face to face, discussing in impassioned voices, whether she had any right to even mention your name.

“I’ll say it whenever I want to!” She screeched. 

And James watched as you became more and more distraught, silently, the accusations thrown around within the lobby becoming increasingly personal and insensitive. You only felt yourself stupid then for not having believed the rumors of Alistar’s infidelity, and you drew more and more within yourself at every word in which was spat, even if they weren’t at you, protecting-yourself by padding over softly towards James. He sat on the couches, one of his hands massaging his temple as he stared down motionlessly on his lap. James eyes… they were jet-black.

There was an overbearing amount of hypocrisy in the air; the embarrassment of being cheated on completely fazing over your pride. James looked up at you feeling your delicate fingers wrap atop his larger hand, seemingly befuddled by the whole mess in front of you. You looked down on your lap too as you sat on the armrest of his chair, and you felt him as he leaned in just to brush his lips on your wrists tenderly, the atmosphere around you becoming exceedingly noisy. A familiar picture was painted—of you and James, praying in unison together. 

As if a gust of wind had picked up in the lobby, you only looked up at the sound of a whoosh followed by a short deft movement of Alistar’s open hand. It broke the bridesmaids’ nose again and the bandage flew off her face, onto the red carpets as she screamed. She disrespected you out of spite then, screaming at Banks: “[Y/N]! [Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N]!” 

But that was her last word. James made sure of that, for he found her disrespectful too.

Your breath juddered up your chest when James suddenly pulled you down fully onto the cushioned couch, the flutter of a quick pulse speeding up in your chest as you held down your layered wedding dress. You lay there surprised; You’d thought to land on his lap but instead your head hit the pillows of the chair as he stood. With counted, steady steps, James made his way towards the bickering pair in front of you both, a handkerchief in one hand, the splintered head of his cane in the other. He tapped on Alistars shoulder politely, and you suddenly heard a deafening wail as you scrambled to straighten up your posture. 

James forced the white cloth down Missy’s throat as she fell from his brutal force. His hands were so tense the veins aback his hand were protruding slightly with his every lurch forward. She had muffled screams, and was backpedaling on the floor. Alistar’s mouth parted to say something but was all at once choking at James single handed obstruction, his white-knuckle grip unfaltering as it held onto Alistars throat, gripping it so tight his fingerprints left an imprint as he jabbed his homemade weapon into his neck, the broken wooden splinter puncturing Alistars very flesh. James began then, sinisterly: “Pardon, sir, for thou shan’t bear false witness against thy neighbor.” You froze.

Alistar gripped March’s shirt violently back however, pushing his face with a large palm, causing a fight. You struggled for air, pupils darting back and forth as you saw a frenzied looking Mr. March steadying himself as he angled his broken shard once more. With an aggressive push and pull of utter silence, James carved a half open, splintering wound on Alistar’s vocal chords. James further pummeled the other side of his face with his free fist, watching with blackened eyes as life slowly began to seep from Alistar’s body. A familiar euphoria of Godliness heightened his senses once more; He once more felt the power of God, the power of cleaning up a messy world. 

You stared wide-eyed and trembling as James fists quavered and bloodied further with every strike, the panic in your chest tripling by the second as you heard the boff and bash of his fists against Alistars’ bone. Then your ears muffled; everything became kind of slow motion. Banks opted for his last resort, and rugby tackled James to the floor. You could barely differentiate the two brawling like wild animals on the ground, legs kicking, suits ripping, and arms scrambling just fighting for control. You drove them mad— these men. Yet you only flinched when James let out a loud roar, the argh sound causing you to shut your eyes tightly in fear of seeing him get disowned. But James only dominated Alistar like an alpha male, and got up on his two feet rapidly, almost tearing his collarbone in the process of the brawl. 

“Remember the sabbath day—” James seethed, gyrating his arm a bit. He pressed a heel on Mr. Banks back and paused, seemingly counting. When he was sure it was Sunday, he lowered his foot full force; stepping down so hard on Alistar you heard a crack. “Remember to keep it holy.”

And through it all his face remained absolutely emotionless, even if there was an intoxication heightened behind those dark brown eyes. Your mind began fogging with incomprehensible thoughts, the fast heartbeat in your ribcage overtaking your senses as you saw your arranged husband squished down on the carpets as his wound gushed rich mahogany, so much it looked inky black. March took his splinter from the floor again, and this time hit the metal part of it across the back of Alistar’s head. The regular flush in your cheeks became overbearingly hot as you tremored from the scorching heat you felt underneath your layered dress, your heart thumping as your hands clasped over your mouth and nose, grimacing at the waft of bodily sweat.

Alistar laid on the floor weak, seemingly groaning as his hands could no longer navigate his own anatomy anymore. He tried to press a hand over his leaking throat but was unsuccessful. Then, James’ face shifted into a menacing smile of satisfaction, his expression somewhat mocking Alistars’ very own. So much blood was oozing out from Banks’ neckline he’d become paralyzed and unrecognizable, his features bruising into a violet purple as his hair further disheveled. His body appeared tangled on the floor. Missy’s shuffling was what shifted both you and Jame’s attention, and the murderer even helped her up forcibly as she did so. The woman let out muffled screams as James stared intently at her face, almost bearing his teeth. She appeared to be choking. And, seemingly almost out of context, James unstuffed the handkerchief from her blocked airways. He cackled out one simple word, his mustache tingling with a voice demonically hoarse. 

“Run.” He said, his upper eyelids and eyebrows raised into a crazed stare.

You were about to say something but only squeaked and fell back on the chair as Missy ran past you rapidly, accidentally pushing you down. She was calling out the words ‘Killer!’ and ‘Help!’, and though you saw the world upside down, to your surprise, James’ lips puckered up into a sadistic smile. 

“And thou shalt not covet your neighbor’s house…” He drew out, accent thick. 

James looked at you then almost as if accomplished, his chin and chest puffed up as a sudden wham followed. He wiggled his eyebrows to your horror almost as if once again a young boy, reminding you to ‘Watch this’. Missy had hit the only corridor exit and, soon after, stuck into what looked like a secret wall. Having witnessed this from the position of laying upside down demented the whole experience further. Suddenly, as if spiders crawled upon your very skin, you felt goosebumps as your mouth parted with shocking realization she ran into something sharp. As if her movements had been too fast to even comprehend, she was then seemingly jerked off her feet violently beneath her, her whole being disappearing into the darkness of the secret chute, sliding into a rift alongside the metal that punctured her very gut. You couldn’t tell if there was flooring behind that door as it slowly creaked shut. Your mouth was parched dry, your breathing unrhythmic as you tried to process it all. For as you let out one, single, absurdist titter, you didn’t know if you were internally crying… or if you were frightened… or if you were enthralled by it all.

Then you breathed. Though you harmed no one, you were exhausted from holding in your breath too long. 

[Y/N] [Y/L/N]… the green little fairy.

The sound of Alistar gurgling his own blood caught your attention, and though you sat up absolutely motionless, your eyebrows furrowed in empathy as those innocent eyes doted on him with compulsive compassion. His face was purple by now, and it looked like the pain James inflicted on him was really settling in. James cut in.

“And thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” He said as he looked down to Alistar with haughtiness. 

With seemingly no thought, you jumped up from your seat, a confused expression settling into James’ handsome features as you did so. He walked over steadily towards you, whilst Alister stared at you one last time. There was a sorrowful hope within his eyes. You can get help. You can save him. You can stop James. 

Or you could save yourself.

“Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image…” You murmured lightly thinking aloud, your gaze trailing between James and Alistar. Who was your God? And there it was again, that void to your gaze, as ethereal as it was. And you reached for James face then when he got close enough, soothing two small knuckles tenderly on his cheek before slowly pressing a chaste kiss on his nose. Your eyes then searched within his, lovingly. “You are the Lord… thy God—” 

Your God.

James stood there, orbs hazy as his eyebrows relaxed. He looked like a hysterical wolf, with puppy dog eyes. His serious features faltered at the very sparkle behind your stare. You chose him. And he was glad. A little turned on too.

The moment seemed perfect until it was cut short; you lifted your dress and ran, ran down the elongated carpets of the lobby towards a faint source of masculine voices trying to enter the hotel. You called out then, your voice affluent— as if nothing had happened before.

“My— gentleman, it’s so hot!” 

Yet tears brimmed your eyes as your neck beaded up in sweat. You couldn’t decipher your own emotions then, but only felt a compulsion to talk nonstop about everything. “Everything’s so confused!”

They stopped dead in their tracks. “We’re here for the air ventilation, miss.”

The size of your fabricated wedding dress seemingly covered enough of the lobby from the vision of the workers in front of you. They never made it past the first set of entrance doors.

“Father called for air ventilation at my wedding hours ago, all down that way to Ali’s hotel.” You directed, pointing outside. You steadied the tremor in your hand successfully, and the two men turned their way out the door. “You know— the Hotel California,”

“I thought the wedding was—”

“What are we to do?” You cried softly, on the verge of tears. It hit you then, Alistar was gone. You pushed between them and linked your two arms with theirs, musing a charming little smile. “I’m to be wed off soon, gentlemen— why, who wants to take my car? There’s so much work to do!”

The laborers raised their eyebrows, clearly understanding you to be Mrs. Banks. The [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Especially at the sight of your emotional state, they explained onwards that it wouldn’t be necessary for you to come along. James took the cue then.

He flipped Alistar over, who was surprisingly still alive, and struck the final timbering blow of his splintered stub in his chest. Alister’s eyes reeled back, his knees trembling like aspens before straightening and giving away beneath him. Slowly, James nudged him in place before using his full strength to drag him off by the armpits, as silently as he could. They disappeared behind the grand staircase, James gelled black curls messy as he did so. He looked so handsome— your James, even when doing such inhumane, atrocious things; his shirt collar was ripped yet the suspenders remained absolutely unspotted as he backpedaled. He took extra care of his little peony.

As the handymen apologized fulsomely and turned back out the curb for a different hotel, you turned your gaze back inside the grand entrance of the hotel; James was gone again. Only Hazel Evers remained, smooth jazz music in the background as she mused an awkward grin, sat  by her bucket of bubbles, eagerly scrubbing and scrubbing; a sadness clouding her features knowing you have and always will be Jame’s darling girl.

-♣-

To be continued in Part III: The Green Little Fairy / Segment Two

[moonsandmischief]

The Garden of Eden | Part IV: Betrayal

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (4/4)~

Summary (Part Four): Warnings are to be remembered, although most stored away for future use only to be forgotten. Cycles repeat to teach lessons; to warn of future events. Threats may remain even if not for the blind eye to see. However, ignorance might be the biggest threat of all.

Warnings (in this part): murder, blood, death, poison, religious twists, dark themes

Word Count: 5,018 (haha this part ended up with the most words... to end it off I suppose!)

Notes: This is the last part of the Garden of Eden! I just want to say thank you to all who read - especially @etoile-writings , for supporting me. Please go check out her series Adam and Eve, as it is a literary masterpiece and she deserves so much recognition.

I have seriously had so much fun writing this - it really has been my pleasure. I also want to apologize to all those who may have been waiting for awhile for the final part! Disclaimer: I tried my best to edit the grammar and everything in this but this is the best I could do! I hope there’s not many mistakes I may have missed. Please ask any questions and give me all your comments about this finale - I’d love to hear any and all thoughts! I also hope everyone is safe, healthy, and happy :) Feel free to send in other requests, whether it be AHS or Supernatural.

Also a heads up - keep a look out for the final review and analysis if you are interested. It is still in progress but it should be out within a couple of days at best.

A few side notes - the Countess and James are still legally married here, as they are in the show, but in this situation it is only because they haven’t gotten the chance to divorce. This part may seem to have very long sentences, but I just wanted to let you guys know that it is a writing technique that I used to create mood, tone, and theme. That’s all, thanks!

Tag List: @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss

Something about the young couple in the bar had your mind reeling. Their hands remained interlocked on the table, both of them staring at one another with all the joy and adoration that only true love can bring. Their relationship was new and exciting. The honeymoon phase was always so perfect. You remembered how that had felt with James; so invigoratingly energizing. It was enough to make you feel as if you ruled the world; love blinding a vision of truth. It was, for many years, what you had considered paradise to be.

Paradise.

You realized now that it never had been perfect with you and James. There were so many things standing in the way, so many hidden threats. When you were younger, it had been your parents and their obsessive need to marry you off like an object to a rich man. Even as he had began his journey to success, James’ social status as new money hadn’t seemed good enough to them. When you had first gotten back with James only just around a month ago, you had thought that you’d conquered everything. You had been blind to the truth which was right in front of you once again. You should have expected some kind of change in James. It was inevitable, after all that time spent apart.

But now, however, right at this present moment... well, now, everything was out in the open. Now, you and James truly understood one another. Now there really was nothing in your way. You could see no obstacles ahead, no threat, so long as James was by your side. All you saw was James, and all that clouded your mind was your admiration and devotion to him. He was your everything; your soulmate, your leader, your God. He had dragged you from the fire and brought your paradise back to you; good, true, and everlasting this time around. Your precious Garden of Eden, controlled by none other but you and your God.

Your God; who had been the utmost of clever in his recent schemes. He’d been outraged when he did it, but it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t brilliant. He was of excellent prosecution; his statement out in the open and clear. A Sunday morning: police finding piles of dead bodies compiled with numerous copies of nothing other than the book of God himself. It was sadistic and morbid, but it was perfect. It was everything that James needed to say. He was on the verge of something momentously renowned.

Once James was finished, no one would ever forget his message: religion was the worst thing to happen to society. It controlled the will of man, when truly nothing in creation could stop anything. Everyone was put equal on the Earth to sin, to live in the most pleasurable way.

It was the entire reason Adam and Eve had been cast down. They were sinners, except the garden was a place controlled by God’s rules. They had wanted to control their own lives, so God banished them to Earth. James, however, had created his own paradise; his own Garden of Eden. He had climbed so far above all other men that he now controlled the garden. He had to prove to others the ridiculousness of holiness--for all were meant to sin. Religion was, essentially, suppression. To some, it may seem horrible, but to you, it was art. A simple expression of belief that most didn’t understand.

Voices floated into your ears, startling you out of your thoughts. Soft echoes through the lobby of your beloved’s name piqued your interest, your feet immediately carrying you to the railing without much thought. You left your drink on the bar’s counter--still full, but long forgotten. Your eyes landed on four men clad in black suits, shiny gold badges on their shoulders reflecting light from the chandeliers above. You scanned the area, noticing a certain maid standing close by, listening in, much like you were.

“We have suspicion based upon evidence that Mr. March was involved in the murder this past Sunday. We have already taken the time to get a warrant for his arrest,” one of the officers explained to the receptionist at the front desk. Time seemed to take a standstill, your heart seeming to stop completely as your brain registered the man’s words. No, this couldn’t be happening.

The cycle was repeating again. They were trying to tear you apart again.

You didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. He said he was careful, and you could never see James making a mistake with something this important. He was detail-oriented, his brain practically ran off of the certainty of perfectionism. He would never let a small mistake ruin everything for him.

The entire empire he’d built, and everything you’d rebuilt, was about to be destroyed all over again.

Your body seemed to catch up with your mind as you sprung into action. You twisted around, your feet pushing you forward only to come to a halt at the close proximity of the once unknown presence behind you. Your eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping your lips at the stop you made compared to your sudden momentum. You stared into the eyes of none other than The Countess, clad in only the most extravagant clothing and makeup.

“That’ll be a hard one to get out of,” she said, although her face was seemingly expressionless. You stared at her, your frenzied brain jumping to the first conclusion you could make.

“Did you...” you trailed off, your breathing suddenly heavy. James couldn’t have made the mistake, so that means that somebody else had to of given the police some kind of tip in order for them to seek James out. The woman standing before you was quite possibly the number one suspect. “Did you do this?” Your voice held tones of disbelief and anger.

Would Elizabeth really go to such extent when she hadn’t even expressed a major disliking? She hadn’t talked to you at all since that first time, in fact the only interactions you’d had with one another were passing glances. She’d seemed to have just steered clear of anything to do with you or James. You had no idea what she had thought, but you had supposed that she didn’t care about you and James, otherwise she would have spoke her concerns. Had you been wrong about her? Could a simple mistake end it all over again? Elizabeth scoffed, her face hardening.

“Oh God no...” she said wryly, a small sarcastic grin forming on her lips as she looked at you quizzically, “what would I get out of it now? As I am still his present wife, I don’t need James dead to use his money. And besides, now that he has you he no longer bothers me.” She was smug as she spoke to you. She grinned, all teeth and mischief, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a winning situation for the both of us if you ask me.” She paused, her grin falling slightly as her gaze wondered off to peer down into the lobby.

“I could bet I know who the rat is, though,” She said, turning back to you. “I’m wagering it’s his loyal minion. That poor woman has been in love with James since the beginning of time.” She paused, her eyes intense as they rested on your face. “And based on your expression you think so too.” She smiled at you and then turned, walking slowly away from you. “Good luck,” she called back to you without turning around, your eyes watching her back as she went.

You stood contemplating her words for a moment. Elizabeth was smart and straightforward, and from what you could tell if she had a problem she would speak her mind. And what she had said made sense. Miss Evers was in love with James, but her love was unrequited, and that’s why she constantly seemed at odds with you. She could never even have a chance to be with him, so long as you were around.

Your feet carried you quickly as you raced to the elevator. The police were still conversing with the receptionist, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out where James was. You recalled a conversation you’d had with him in the morning, concluding that he had to be caught up attending to his hobby.

The police would find him in his office, in the middle of his business, and it would all be over. He would be taken from you once again.

You didn’t even knock upon arriving; you opened the door and closed it quickly behind you. You turned to face James, in all his blood-covered, god-like glory. You took in the scene of James’ office quickly, your eyes tracing over every detail. A large bin sat in the center of the room, a rugged corpse contained within it. James had been busying himself with pouring a substance over the body, of which could only be acid, as it had sizzled upon impact with the dead man’s skin. At your arrival, James halted his methods in confusion.

Several items were scattered across the floor, one of which catching your interest. The glass of the vase; a damp spot surrounding the area where the unaltered mess remained. The roses remained too, the petals wilting from lack of nourishment. You paused, your mind trying to puzzle out their unmoved position. Miss Evers had to have been in here since last night, so why wouldn’t she move them? She might have been scheming, but she was extremely adamant on being neat when it came to James’ specific rooms. You couldn’t see her ignoring it, and yet here it was sitting puzzlingly. You were caught off guard for a reason not entirely known to you. Something about their appearance had you alarmed, a string of words suddenly ringing out in your head; perhaps a memory brought to the surface.

“If you betray the rose, the rose no longer profits you.”

The old woman was suddenly prevalent in your mind, her warning dawning upon you, your heartbeat stuttering at the looming echo of her words. James was waiting for you to explain yourself--the police were coming--Miss Evers had betrayed you--everything you and James had worked so hard for was crumbling down around you. Your heartbeat was fast, the pulse beating quickly, perhaps the reason for the pounding in your head.

You looked James in the eyes, studying his features. He was so handsome--even before you knew him, that day in the garden when you had first seen him--you had marveled at his beauty. And that was before he’d become such a man; his features sharp and masculine, beautifully sculpted by the gods. His dark brown eyes and hair, so dull yet so prominent--a symbol of his darkness. You could stare at him for eternity and never bore, your love for him everlasting.

And yet, here you were at the end with no escape, hell a threat once again hanging above your heads, looming just around the corner. Just a few more minutes and everything would be over. Just a few more minutes and you’d be lost again, stranded without your guide; your purpose--your God.

“James,” you gasped, stumbling slightly as you made your way to him. You’d just managed to get to him before you fell over slightly, your arms reaching out to grasp onto his tightly. He caught you, keeping you level as his face filled with concern. The pounding in your head was intense, beginning to drown out your thoughts and quicken your breath.

“Darling, tell me--what is it?” James demanded, his voice panic-stricken. He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, his widened orbs meeting yours with intensity.

“I-it’s--the- the police,” you barely managed to get the words out, clinging onto James like he was your lifeline. Nothing seemed right; your thoughts suddenly taking too long to form into words, your breathing heavy, vision blurry, and it was becoming much harder to stand. What was happening? You stared into James eyes, shifting all your focus into him. “They’re here to arrest you.” One hand gripped his arm firmly as you brought the other to rest upon his cheekbone, leaning chest to chest as your body began to collapse into him. He held you steady, forever the one and only thing to truly support you. “They’re going to take you from me,” you sobbed, an onslaught of tears overcoming you. “Again,” you cried quietly, gasping for air.

The door opened, your heart skipping a beat at the intrusion, your mind going straight to the thought of the police. Your eyes landed on Miss Evers instead, confusion settling on you once again. She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? Why was she here now, to prove something? You wished you had the strength to question her, to say anything, but everything felt heavier and heavier as more time passed.

“Tell me,” James barked at her just as she’d closed and locked the door, “what in all creation is happening? Speak right this instant, and quickly.”

“The police are here,” Miss Evers explained, James grip on you tightening as you leaned onto him for support. He glanced down at you, worry glinting in his eyes as you just barely managed to look up at him.

“Darling,” he whispered, “what is happening? Are you ill?” A moment of silence passed as you tried to respond, your mouth opening but no words becoming audible. A moment of silence passed, the only action being James assessing you. Your words couldn’t seem to form, a burning spreading through your entire body. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You began to wonder yourself if you were somehow ill.

“It was supposed to be me!”

The maid across the room suddenly shrieked, desperation clouding her judgement as she flung her arms up in the air. “I was the one for you!” She sobbed, stumbling slightly as an expression of hurt formed upon her face. “I always loved you, and these women--they never did! They used you, and I always cared!” James eyes widened, shock coming across his features. He stared at the woman, contemplating her words.

“But you never saw,” the woman said sadly, her head hanging in shame before her face went emotionless. “And so I did the only thing I could.” She looked at him, dead in the eye, a type of malice suddenly overcoming her. “You’d be surprised how easy it was.” Her eyes settled upon your frame, your head moving slowly to get a glance at her. You stared, blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out. You could barely comprehend what she was saying, but you felt as James’ breath quickened. It was taking all of your willpower to stay awake--you needed to, for James.

“What?” he stated, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, a rage within his eyes even you had never seen before as he stared at her. He was tense, as hard as a rock, glaring daggers at the woman who had seemingly betrayed him.

“I--,” Miss Evers hesitated, obviously intimidated by his fury, but decided to continue. “I’ve found that you have a secret stash of cyanide in the bar.” She faltered once again, her eyes shifting away from James and to the floor. “I wanted us to be together, and she-” she pointed at you, “-she was always in it for the money! They all are, all but me!” She burst into tears, falling onto her knees in hysterics. Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain to gather all of the information. She poisoned you at the bar. You remembered brief flashbacks of the one tiny sip you’d taken of your previously forgotten drink.

James seemed to be shaking as he gently moved you to sit in a chair by the wall, turning away from you for only a moment. Your eyelids began to flutter as sleep beckoned you, visions of James’ movement around the room the only thing to hold your focus. A loud pop suddenly reverberated off of the walls as it rang out, causing you to sit up slightly from your slouched posture, your eyelids flying open to search for the source. James stood over the body of his betrayer, smoking gun resting within his palm.

You felt so weak, your thoughts jumbled, unable to focus on only one. Only now you knew it wasn’t just an overreaction. You’d only taken a mere sip of the drink from the bar, but you supposed now that it had been enough for the poison to go into effect. You wondered briefly how she’d gotten the cyanide into the drink in the first place, and exactly how much she had put in for it to have such a potent effect on your body.

Your eyes traveled to her corpse, and to the fresh blood splattered across the wall from the headshot. You blinked, barely registering what had just occurred before you. You were too dazed to process the incident, even if you understood what had occurred subconsciously. Relief was the only thing you felt; relief for one less thing to worry about standing between you and James.

Eyes shifting slightly to the left, you stared at the browning roses, the sweet old lady’s warning once again echoing, a distant memory brought to the surface of your mind. James crouched in front of you, suddenly the only thing in line of sight, his lips moving but you couldn’t hear his voice over your own in your head. The roses were dead. You left them on the floor. You betrayed them for--

You sprung up once again as a loud banging at the door shocked you back into your senses. James glanced briefly at the door before turning back to you quickly. He pulled you out of the chair, holding you up and close to his chest as he stroked your hair tenderly.

“James,” you just barely whispered as he shushed you.

“I know, darling,” He said reassuringly, pulling back to look into your eyes. “It’s all going to be okay, dear. It’ll all be over before you know it.” He smiled charmingly as you nodded weakly, holding tightly onto the cloth of his shirt to maintain stability. And you believed him in that moment, as he always seemed to find a way.

One way, or another.

You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as the pounding on the door increased. Or maybe it was the pounding in your head; at this point you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was just a figment of your imagination. Cold metal pressed against the skin of your temple, your brain too bleary to question it. Mere seconds passed as you contemplated moving, but suddenly it was as if everything had settled away. James’ warm body faded from your grasp.

-🤍-

Your eyelids fluttered open, eyeballs moving back and forth as you tried to become familiar with your surroundings. You recognized the familiar room immediately, for it was your bedroom when you had first moved into the Cortez. You felt strange. Zen, almost, but maybe that was just because the pounding was gone. You felt... disconnected. It was the most out of touch with yourself you’d ever felt.

You climbed to your feet from the floor, thoughts running rampant at what was unknown to you. Where was James, how did you get here, how long had you been here, and why did you feel so cold? Flashes of what seemed to be both years ago and only moments ago clouded your mind, filling you with dread. Scenarios of what could be frightened you and sent you into a state of panic, pushing you forward.

Out of the room you went, through the quiet and empty halls, searching, searching, searching--no fixed destination ahead except something, anything, that could lead you to your James.

It seemed that days had passed before you finally found the lobby of the hotel. Navigation through the building was proving to be much more difficult than you remembered. Why was it taking so long?

The lobby was sparsely populated, unlike the usually crowded area that you were used to. You glanced around, noticing only a few people in the bar, the receptionist, and someone asleep on the sofas. Your feet carried you to the hotel entrance, pushing the first door open, the sunlight peeking through the opaque glass surprising you. If it was the daytime, then why was the hotel so empty? On ordinary occasions people came and went like flies; the Cortez was a hotspot in the city of Los Angeles, after all. Your hands reached out to push open the door to the outside, the metal handle of the door cool against your skin, and then suddenly nothing. In front of you was the door no longer; profound confusion coursing through you as you stared at the walls of your bedroom once again. You had been there one second, and in the next it was as if you had been teleported back in time.

And so the cycle repeated for what seemed like years; many times set adrift through the halls, eventually to the lobby where the sunlight no longer shone through the windows and unusually few people inhabited. You were reaching forward for the handle of the first door for what seemed to be the hundredth time, only to freeze at the call of your name from a familiar voice.

“Y/N.”

Your name sounded of honey dripping off his tongue. It was like hearing that voice for the first time again. All your worries deflated and anxieties subsided--for you had found your God once again. You turned to face him, to see his face--the face you had longed to see for what felt like years but may have been minutes. You still didn’t entirely understand the detachment from your body you felt; it was as if you no longer had a life source, no blood running course or lungs cycling air. You felt out of place and trapped at the same time.

Just as your hopes had soared, they plummeted at the sight of the bare lobby. Emptiness sat instead where you had expected James to be, crushing all sense of direction. You wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the hotel to shreds with your bare hands. But just before you gave up all hope completely, your eyes caught on the tiniest of details.

Barely noticeable, unless payed close attention to; unless already a prominent object in one’s mind. Small, dainty, white petals lay scattered in high correlation, leading on to an unknown but obviously specific destination. You treaded lightly as you followed the path closely, afraid any disturbance would somehow make them disappear.

Unease settled through you, possibly just a usual feeling as of late, but considerably appropriate when meeting the isolate hallways once again. You began questioning your sanity; was this just yet another repeat in the cycle? You’d been lost for so long, was this just another loop? What was the energy here, and why did it not feel like you and James’ beloved Cortez, the place you called home? You felt like you were stuck in a punishment of some kind; a purgatory; a hell.

And at last, you arrived; the room in which this cycle had began, or ended. The office of James Patrick March: Room sixty-four. You paused, contemplating, before making a bold decision and gripping the handle, opening the door and entering the room. There you stood in what was once James’ office, now empty of most furniture, only few items remaining. And there it remained: the vase on the table in the center of the room, petals leading straight to their source.

Inside sat the very white roses themselves, southern California glory and all. They looked just like the ones in that very first garden: huge, bright and beaming, petals spread with all the beauty and radiance of nature and purity. And just behind them stood their God; the master of the garden who held the utmost control in his realm. Your God, who’d saved you from hell; who’d broke all cycles.

The feeling you felt at sight of James did not fail to excite you just the same as it had on that first day years ago. Something about his presence next to yours soothed you, for you knew that he was still there, that he hadn’t been taken from you, that no matter what had happened you were still okay so long as he stood next to you.

You rushed forward and into him, basking in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, but the challenge once again presented itself: an unignorably apparent absence of warmth. It’d been just before you’d first woken up what seemed like years, or maybe just hours ago, that you’d been in his embrace just the same, his warmth seeping into you and igniting your soul as you had faded in and out of consciousness. But now, you couldn’t feel it. You felt his body wrapped around yours, but nothing inflaming, the detachment from your own warmth just the same. It was missing, a shell of a comfort that used to always be present; something you had gotten entirely used to, for to be absent of warmth was to be dead...

You gasped, pulling away from James to look him in the eyes, the reality setting in and the drunkenness fading away. Your mind was becoming clear, all clarity suddenly bestowed upon you.

“James, are we...” you froze in panic, for it felt as if you didn’t have lungs, the normal rise and fall of the simplicity of breathing gone... the feelings of life were all gone...

And it clicked.

“James,” you whispered, your eyes tracing over the details of the room. The blood stains on the floor and walls were the only evidence of foul play left. You felt strange, for people didn’t normally expect to see the place of their death after the fact. Realizations settled over you as you stared at the room, just as you had initially when entering to warn James of the police, the truth of the events that had happened finally dawning upon you. In your poison-induced state of mind, it’d been hard to realize. You had been dying, the poison slowly but surely shutting your body down. You’d barely processed it when James had held the gun to your head and pulled the trigger, ending your pain.

“Yes, darling?” James replied to you, bringing you back to your conversation. You stared at him longingly. Although you didn’t entirely understand why you were still here, or the concept of the afterlife, you were glad to have James next to you. A moment of silence passed as you tried to pinpoint what you wanted to ask him exactly.

“I have so many questions,” you said, deciding to just speak your mind. You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking rapidly as you tried to sort out your thoughts. “I-I’m so lost, James.”

“Of course you are, dearest,” James said reassuringly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. He stared at you sadly. “I’m terribly sorry for all that happened, you must feel perplexed beyond understanding my dear.” He paused, his eyes traveling over your features as you stared up at him, listening intently. “This was simply my only choice, darling. You were succumbing to the poison’s grip long before I finished your pain. Miss Evers...” He trailed off, his jaw clenching tightly. “Nevermind that. I came to a conclusion upon the authorities’ arrival, and that was that if I was damned to be put away I might as well flee with you, my queen... it was the only right option.” He smiled down at you softly.

You smiled right back at him, your love for him the only warmth left inside of you now that you no longer had your body to call home. You basked in the feeling of being close to him as he pulled you to his chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss against your scalp. Even if you didn’t feel warmth, simply the love you had for him was enough. He tenderly stroked your back, calming your nerves. It amazed you how he could ease your mind so easily, if only just a little. However, you couldn’t shake your thoughts away. Sure, you could just let it all go, but the truth of the matter was simple.

Your entire life had been a cycle. A cycle of undeniable foolishness; you’d been ignorant of the truth for all of your living years. Oh, how it angered you. You hated something truly for what seemed like the first time in your life. You hated yourself; you’d let yourself believe false truths just to live in an illusion that you thought was happiness. You were naïve. And ultimately, that was what had ended you.

You’d ignored all warnings and left the roses to wilt, betraying the one thing that had always been on your side. You’d ignored all threats and committed yourself to making paradise in the land of the evil; it was simply impossible. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a place for the living. It was a place of freedom, and so long as you’re living, you can never truly be free. For in life, one threat always remains: death. You could never truly be protected. You could never truly have paradise.

But with James, in the Cortez, in the paradise he’d created for you... even death didn’t stand a chance. It was a gateway to greatness; a place where nothing truly stood in your way, where no threats were great enough. You couldn’t be harmed, or imprisoned, or separated here; you were finally utterly invincible; real Gods. Hell and Earth were no longer a threat. It was your true paradise that James had promised you.

Your Garden of Eden.

---------

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

....currently finalizing and writing the explanation :) decided to tease the title a little.

The Garden of Eden Series Masterlist

Part I: Cycles

Summary (Part One): Life with James March involved has had many cycles. In a time long ago, you once flourished. But things don’t always stay the same forever, do they? Will James find his way back to you?

Part II: Reflection

Summary (Part Two): When memories are all that clouds your vision, how do you begin to break cycles and live in the present? Can you overcome your irrational fear when paradise is only a memory of long ago? Living through hell can make or break you.

Review (Part One and Two): The Garden of Eden Explanation

Summary (Review pt. 1&2): Author’s notes to help explain symbolism and literary elements used in the series. *Beneficial if you are confused!

Part III: Hidden Darkness

Summary (Part Three): Sometimes, even when things seem to be at their best, hidden truths can seep through the cracks. Sometimes, it can ruin relationships, but other times, it can make them. What will happen when you and James find that everything is not what it seems? They say opposites attract, but how far can that really go? The truth is a magnet, but the question still remains: will it bring you together, or force you apart?

Part IV: Betrayal (final part coming soon)

Review (Part Three and Four): (final review coming soon)

Main Masterlist

[moonsandmischief]

Happy 34th birthday, Evan Peters!! ❤️🎂

I adore and admire him so much. He’s the celebrity I have had a crush on for the longest, and it’s going to be like that forever because he’s just SO PERFECT.

[moonsandmischief]

January 20, 2021

Happy Birthday Skeet & Evan! 🥳🎉🎉

Today Skeet Ulrich is 51! & Evan Peters is 34!

[moonsandmischief]

Update

I’m working on part four of the Garden of Eden! I’m going to finish both part four and the review before I post either, plus I just started back at school, so it may be a little before it gets posted. It depends on whether I can finish most of it this weekend (which is very possible). I just wanted to say that I am so excited right now as I am writing this, because I am really enjoying this story. I’m so excited to let you guys in on the way all of the ideas connect together!