would be THRILLED with the apocalypse and the ensuing terror.
Request: “Hiya! Can you do a Reader x James where they get into an argument and he throws up his arms/steps forward or something and Reader flinches as if she thought he would hit her and it breaks his heart? Thank you” – Anon
“It doesn’t humor you at all?” Liz asks out of curiosity. Her elbow was propped atop the bar counter, resting her chin on her hand.
You were across from her, sitting on the barstool. “Humor? What do you mean?”
“That your boyfriend is a ghost who died like 90 years ago.” She scoffs playfully, shooting you a isn’t-it-obvious look.
A chuckle escapes your mouth in response and you glance at the ceiling in quick thought. “Hmm. It didn’t actually register to me until you mentioned it.”
“I didn’t mean it in offense, doll. It’s just a thought.” Liz props herself up and shrugs apologetically. “Besides, I’ve noticed a little change in James since he’s met you. He’s less grumpy.”
“Speaking of the devil.” She glances at the top of the stairs where a figure appears, her eyes follow the direction walking towards you. You look over and your eyes gleam at the sight of the man you love. The very creator of the walls surrounding you. James Patrick March.
Liz starts on distracting herself by getting to work, wiping the bar counter to prevent herself from feeling like a third wheel.
James removed the pipe in his mouth, exhaling the smoke away from my face before speaking firmly. “What on earth are these garments you’re wearing?” He spoke through gritted teeth, taking a deep inhale from his pipe. He’s obviously bothered. You frowned at what you thought was going to be a welcoming greeting that instead, reverted to a scolding.
You narrowed your eyes. “A dress. What’s your problem?” The gown you wore didn’t reveal too much cleavage, however, the slit started on the side of your upper thigh. To you and Liz, it’s classy with a touch of sexy. But by the tone in James’s voice, it’s too revealing.
“My issue is this vile garment you call a dress. Now you go straight to our suite and change in more appropriate clothing.” He pointed with his cane.
“Whatever old man. We’re in the 21st century.” You rolled your eyes.
James catches Liz wide eyed from your sass. He brings his view back to you and huffs, flaring his nostrils. “Now.” He commanded, seeing you not propping yourself off the chair.
You folded your arms in front of your chest, keeping your bottom glued to the bar stool.
“If you prefer to act like a child, my queen, then I will treat you like so and drag you there myself.” James clenches his jaw and wears a remember-the-last-time-you-didn’t-listen look.
Finally, you decided to be stubborn no longer and set your feet to the carpet to make your way to the elevator.
As soon as you exited the elevator to the designated floor of your suite, you bolted down the hallway. You held your arms at your sides with both hands held in fists. As tempted as you were to throw a fit, you chose to bite your tongue, but James could easily sense your utter frustration with him.
“Stop following me god dammit!” You shout, scoffing dramatically.
Marching down the hallway, ahead of you there was just an empty hallway until James appears before your very eyes and you practically bump into his chest.
“Mind. Your. Language.” He attempted to bite back his anger.
“Jesus Christ!” You flinch from surprisal, shoving him out of the way, then proceeded to make your way to the suite you share with James. “You can’t just pop up wherever you please just because you’re a ghost! Unfair!”
“Oh yes I can, darling. This is the last you’ll ever walk away from me!” James being incredibly furious with you, continued to follow you down the hall.
Entering the suite, you didn’t bother holding the door open for James. Instead, you rushed to your walk in closet fast enough to close the closet door shut and lock it before James could get in.
“Open this damned door!” He slammed his fist on the door, pounding and pounding away. The first hit shook you, but the more and more he pounded, the more immune you were to it.
“And why should I?!” You shouted, clenching your fists at your sides.
“Darling there will be hell to pay if you do not let me in!”
James could easily evaporate and appear in the closet, but for some odd reason he didn’t. “You idiotic ghost.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes at the thought.
Just for a moment, there was silence. Not a pound on the door and not a peep from his mouth. Then all of a sudden, you find the closet door being kicked open by James’s right foot. His fury sprang to life, bolting towards you with rage in his eyes.
The expression on his face alone frightened you. You’ve seen him angry before, but not this extreme. Now you’ve become frightened to the point that you feared he would strangle you. The thought never occurred to you before and although he is a murderer, you were convinced that you were the exception, being his beloved and all. But seeing the rage in his eyes proved otherwise.
“J-James.” You stepped backwards, lips quivering in fear.
James grabs a hold of your shoulders. “You dare to test me?!” He shoves your back so roughly at the body mirror that you’re surprised it didn’t break. Your face goes pale, too afraid to answer him. He tries to shake a word out of you. “Dearest?!” James speaks through his teeth, nostrils flaring.
A tear makes its way down your cheek, terror overtaking your face as you stare into his dark eyes. “P-please.” You started in a loud whisper. “Don’t kill me.”
James’s expression goes from raged to puzzled. He shifts backward, releasing his grip for your shoulders. “Pardon?”
You swallowed, crossing your arms in front of your chest uncomfortably. “You heard me.” Your spoke in a low tone, view shifting to the floor.
“Dearest.” James whispers, tilting your chin up so that your view was to his face again. “Dearest, never would I ever.” His forehead furrowed from confusion.
“It sure seemed like you were.” Your lower lip trembled and you were on the verge of tears. “You looked so angry and and-“
James cuts you off, running his thumb across your chin. “Shh shh shh…” He goes soft, hushing you gently.
“I do admit, I am an insatiable killer. But never you. Never my queen.” He unwinds your arms so that his hands have a hold of your fingers. “No matter how greatly you may upset me, never do I mean any harm to you.” James lifts your hands at chest level, planting kisses at them both. Relief hits you like a truck and you quickly realize that James isn’t the only one in the wrong.
“And I’m sorry. I already know you have a temper and yet, I fucking pushed you.” You shake your head, feeling ashamed of your own actions. You know exactly what ticks him off, but you didn’t care at the moment.
“That’s quite alright.” James’s mood is abruptly elevated. “Come.” He brings his left hand palm up, glancing at it.
“Where to?” You ask but take his hand anyway.
“Oblige to have this dance with your king.” He directs out into the bedroom so that he can play Benny Goodman on his record player, then the two of you can slow dance chest to chest. You both know this will aid in relaxing the mood from the still fresh argument.
You smile as you watch him walk back to you from the record player, slow jazz sounds throughout the walls of the bedroom.
He smiles back. Your opposite hands link. James grabs a hold of your waist with his unoccupied hand. You melt from his touch, resting your ear to his chest, your eyes blinking slowly as you allow the music to whisk you away, stepping with the rhythm of the song.
“I love you, James.” You broke the sweet silence.
“And I you, dearest.” He responds, shutting his eyes while he plants a kiss atop your head.
“You’re the worst roommate.” You exclaimed, as you sat up on the bed you share with your darling, James March. Nothing but your bare body was underneath the black silk robe you wore.
“And why is that, dearest?” He asks, tying his ascot in the bathroom with the door wide open.
Your lips formed into a pout, James can only picture it through the whining tone in your voice. “Because you don’t cook with me or decorate our suite with me. You send Miss Evers to do it.”
“Why spend time on an undesirable chore when you have another that finds happiness in doing so?” He refers to Miss Evers, his maid that has been loyal to him since the 1920’s.
“Yeah whatever. Gotcha!” You scoffed, gesturing a finger in the air. James steps out of the bathroom, his ascot is tied and tucked perfectly. He shifts to throw on his suit jacket that’s being held on a hanger.
“Don’t burden me with the long face, my queen. Consider yourself lucky that your beau gives you everything you desire.”
“If you say so.”
“I allow you to decorate our abode however you like, am I correct?” He asks, although he knows what the answer coming out of your mouth should be.
“Yes.” Your annoyance started to soften because he was right. Your man was right. He gives you everything you could ask for, yet you can’t help but complain. Adjusting to this lifestyle has been a rollercoaster to you. You weren’t used to being extravagantly wined and dined. Not to mention, you’ve never been with anyone who had their own personal maid.
He huffs. James’s hardened expression was hard to ignore as he stands at the foot of the bed, squaring his shoulders to look taller. Oh shit I’m in trouble. You thought to yourself. “And I cater to whatever delectable cravings you have, including Foie Gras. Am I correct?”
You propped yourself up so that your knees kept you balanced on the mattress, using your knees as your feet to walk over to where James is standing, stopping where the foot of the mattress ends. Once there was merely 2 inches of distance between the two of you, you lifted your head up, answering with a slow nod.
“Splendid.” His facial expression formed to a grin. “See to it that we meet for dinner at 7:00pm. Not a minute later.” James was always so punctual.
“Yes, Mr. March.” You bit your bottom lip, teasingly, aware that James knew it meant being freaky with him after dinner as an apology gift for being such a brat a moment ago.
He inched closer, reaching your ear, lowering his tone, “I’ll be sure to inform Miss Evers to take the rest of the night off once I’m ready for my dessert.” By dessert, you knew James meant you.
Your Divine Ruler. Congrats to Evan Peters on his Critics Choice nomination for Best Actor in a Movie Made for TV or Limited Series.