“if he’s a serial killer, then what’s the worst that could happen to a girl who’s already hurt?” // james march
Request: Hi! If it's alright could I request a James March x reader where she comes to the hotel sobbing and absolutely drenched from the rain with like a fistful of money. So she gets a room and goes to the bar and drinks a bunch and spills to the bar tender that her husband hit her or cheated on her or something and James overhears and he's just super sweet and comforts the reader, maybe they fall in love and he doesn't want her to find out about him being dead/a murder?? (◕‿◕✿)
Warnings: maybe language? murder, mentions of serial killers, graphic content, mentions of abuse, mentions of toxic relationship, alcohol
Notes: literally so much fun to write! feedback is always appreciated :)
title inspired by “happiness is a butterfly” by lana del rey.
You loved the rain. Especially when it was pouring. It was so comforting, to hear the rain pitter-patter on the roof while you stayed curled up inside with a cup of something warm.
But not tonight. No, tonight was possibly the worst night of your life. Not only did you get in a horrible fight with your husband, but now you were stranded on the streets of L.A., drenched from head to toe from the pouring rain, with no place to turn.
You could hardly see the neon sign that read “Cortez” in the fog, but luckily you managed to spot it. Thank God, a hotel. You silently prayed that it was cheap; who knew where you would go if it wasn’t.
You suddenly felt tears well in your eyes. Why did this have to happen to you, of all people? What did you do to deserve this? And your husband, what were you going to do about him? You didn’t want to stay with him, that you were sure about.
A quiet sob wracked your body as you entered the doors of the hotel, hugging yourself tightly. You gasped quietly at the expensive, old-fashioned look of the hotel. Oh no, you thought, it was totally going to be expensive.
You cursed at the wet clothes clinging to your body; the reason you were shivering violently. You approached the front desk, noticing an older woman staring at you.
“Hello,” you greeted, your voice coming out scratchy. You tried to clear your throat, but even then it didn’t do much for you.
“Hey,” the elder woman said, her eyes scanning you, almost in judgement. “What can I do for you?”
“Uhm,” You said, digging through your pockets. You found what you were looking for, pulling out a wad of money. You quickly tried to straighten the bills out, fumbling under her intense gaze, and the cold feeling swallowing your entire body. You counted the bills before meeting her eyes again.
“How much for a room?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you shivered some more. The woman raised her eyebrows.
“Much more than what you have,” She grumbled, eyeing the money you were currently grasping. What was her problem?
“What do we have here?” A voice startled you, and you immediately turned to the source, on high alert. What you saw surprised you; a beautiful woman dressed in diva-like clothing.
“Um, I’m just looking for the cheapest room you have,” you said, biting your lip. You felt tears begin to form in your eyes again, your frustration taking over your self-control.
“Oh, Iris,” the new woman said in a scolding tone to the grumpy lady. “Look at this poor girl! Why would you make her pay for a room?” Iris scoffed, and disappeared into the back room. The nice woman turned to you.
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” she said, smiling softly at you. “I’ll get you a room, on me.”
“I insist,” she interjected, grabbing your hand and squeezing comfortingly. You felt another wave of emotion come over you, and quickly wiped your tears.
The woman, whom you learned was named Liz, guided you to a room. She gave you clothes to change into, even though you insisted she didn’t have to. You eventually accepted gratefully, amazed at how kind the woman was.
You took a shower and changed before making your way down to the bar, which was mostly empty. You sat down on one of the stools, smiling when you saw that Liz was the bartender.
“Want anything to take the edge off, honey?” she asked you, looking down at you softly.
“Uh,” you thought for a moment, ”do you have wine?”
“That all you want?” Liz asked in amusement.
You looked down at your lap sheepishly. “I don’t drink much.”
“Alright, I got ya something,” Liz said, laughing lightly. You nodded, smiling the best you could. You could still feel the emotional turmoil weighing down on you.
When you thought back on it, you honestly couldn’t believe what had happened. You’d never had the courage to storm out like that. But then again, your husband had never gotten physical.
Your hand traveled up to your throat, which was still sore from being gripped so tightly. You almost couldn’t remember what had led to him choking you. You could distinctly remember him yelling at you drunkenly, and you saying that you were going to leave. The next thing you knew, your back was against the wall, and his hand was around your throat. It was all a blur after that. All you knew was that you managed to get away from him. That was all that mattered.
Liz set a glass down in front of you, shifting your attention to her rather than your thoughts. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at the unknown liquid. A certain impulse lead you to downing the whole glass.
Your fingers grasped the cold glass, your face scrunching up at the subtle but apparent burn in your throat. It seemed as if immediately your mind started to get fuzzy, whatever self control you had left slipping away. Your eyes moved to Liz, who was watching you with a smirk.
“Man, this stuff is strong,” you mumbled, licking your lips, the taste of alcohol lingering on your taste buds.
Liz chuckled, leaning over on the bar next to you. She shook her head, “No, you’re just a lightweight, hun.” You coughed, nodding.
It was silent for a moment. It seemed your drunken mind couldn’t handle that, because in just a few minutes you were crying and spilling all the night’s events to Liz without a second thought. It felt nice, though. Even sober you would admit that Liz was a great listener.
“Oh, honey,” Liz said, looking down at you with a pout. “You can’t let him do that to you!” She exclaimed.
“I’ve tried,” you sighed, burying your head in your hands. “Nothing ever works, no matter what I do. He’s inescapable. I’ll never be free from him.” Liz looked down at you, her eyebrows creased in deep concern.
“Anyone can gain freedom if they desire it so much.”
The voice startled you, making you slowly spin around in your chair to see just who such an odd voice could belong to. Your hazy eyes met dark brown. His stare was intense, so intense you could feel your arms prickle with goosebumps. Or maybe it wasn’t his gaze, maybe it was simply his presence. His steps were slow paced as he began decreasing the distance between the two of you.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at the man. Your drunken mind didn’t even hardly process his clothes, his accent, and everything about him that screamed long ago. You were too busy trying to process his words, make sense of what he just said.
“Hello, darling,” he said, a charming grin appearing on his face. Darling? Was he flirting with you? You frowned, your drunken thoughts clouding your judgement.
“Who are you?” You shot at him, immediately cringing at your words. “Sorry,” You said sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to sound rude, I’m not used to drinking.” Oh God, you thought, now you were saying too much.
But the man chuckled. “Nonsense, dear,” He shushed you, smiling at you softly. “It seems to me you’ve had a rough night.”
“Now that’s an understatement,” you said, giggling a little. You were very aware that you were drunk, and making a fool of yourself in front of a handsome man. But did it really matter?
The man laughed a little at you, his eyes softening around the edges as he stared at you. He offered you a hand, “James Patrick March.”
You smiled, grabbing his hand softly. “{Y/N}.” His lips pressed against the back of your hand, making tingles shooting up your spine. You giggled again, despite yourself.
“You’re quite a lovely woman to be at a bar alone.” He slid into the seat next to you.
“And you’re quite a smooth talker, Mr. March,” you said, giving him a playful glare. He chuckled again.
“And I believe your quite... uh, drunk, is it?” He squinted his eyes in thought, then nodded. “Yes, dear, you’re quite intoxicated.”
You sighed. “Yeah, I know.” In that moment, it seemed that your memories of the night came back to haunt you once again. The mood seemed to go completely sour.
“Ah, yes,” James said, watching you intensely. “You’ve just endured a quite dramatic event, darling, no one would necessarily blame you.”
You nodded, your lips forming a straight line. A sudden tiredness had weighed down on you, a yawn escaping your slightly puffed lips.
You tried to stand, not expecting your knees to give out underneath you. The last thing you remembered before falling into darkness was James’ face, and a soft bed.
It’d been nearly three months since you had escaped your ex-husband. It seemed that ever since you had walked into the Hotel Cortez and met James March, your life had taken a whole different turn, for the better. It seemed that James had been the exit to freedom that you had prayed so desperately for.
For all the months since you had met James, your life had been what your wildest dreams were made of. A faithful lover, who you knew truly loved you, life in extravagance, and even amazing friends, like Liz and Sally. Even Iris came around. Your husband never even came looking at the hotel for you. You didn’t know where he was, neither did you care. The hotel itself seemed to just make you happy. Sure, you’d found out pretty quickly that there were some odd residents lurking around in the halls. But it wasn’t all that bad. Truly, it was amazing... that is, until you found out that James was hiding something from you.
You’d known for a while. It was obvious. He would disappear at random times of the night, and wouldn’t return until early morning, or sometimes it would even be full days where he’d be missing. You’d have to be a fool not to notice. Not to mention that every time you brought it up, he dismissed you with an excuse. And even then, you’d already been in a relationship with a liar. You knew the signs. Maybe it was good, maybe it was bad. Either way, you had to find out what he was hiding. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go through this again, even if you trusted James.
You’d came up with a plan. One night, when he slipped out, you’d follow him. You’d see exactly where he went at such an early hour, and more importantly, what he did. You’d just have to be sneaky.
You’d felt him get out of the bed. Sure, you’d been mostly asleep, but you were all too familiar to the feeling of your lover slipping out. You waited a few moments before quietly slipping out of bed, throwing on a robe, and tip-toeing after him.
You followed him through numerous halls, even figured out which floor he traveled to on the elevator. His destination was a room on the seventh floor. It seemed so odd to you, so eerily disturbing. What could he be doing at such an early hour... He had to be cheating, you decided.
You waited awhile, thinking about how you were going to approach the situation. What were you going to say to him? What would his reaction be? ...Were you ready to face the truth? You sighed, taking a deep breath. Man up, you thought. You’ve done this before, you can do it again. And with a deep breath, you opened the door.
You never could’ve been prepared for what you saw. The possibility never crossed your mind, it was never even a thought.
James scrambled when he saw you. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. There was so much blood..
“O-oh, darling, this-“ he stuttered. He didn’t know what to say. Neither did you.
“W-Who,” You began, your eyebrows furrowing as you pointed at the obviously dead man on the floor. “w-who—who was he?” You couldn’t breathe, your voice thick with emotion.
James eyes grew wide, his silence further pushing you. “Who was he?!” You shouted, your shaking hands reaching in front of you as you slowly approached the dead corpse.
“A—a businessman,” James answered, his eyes studying your reaction. “You disapprove?” He asked, slightly cringing at what was to come.
“Do I—“ your eyes widened, but you quickly closed them, and took a deep breath. Once you were slightly more calm, you opened your eyes to meet his dark brown ones. “What is going on here?”
“I, uh...” James was at a loss. For the first time ever, you had seen James speechless.
“Do you—do you do this every time you leave?” You questioned him. You stared at him intently, your ragged breathing increasing more and more as the time passed.
James stood hesitant for a moment, before nodding. “It’s a... hobby?” He said, his eyebrows raising at you nervously.
You staggered back a step, suddenly losing your balance. James instinctively reached out for you, but you quickly flinched away. His eyes traveled up to yours, sadness and guilt clouding them.
“I-I’m sorry,” you said, hesitantly grabbing his hand. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Your eyes met his, tears beginning to stain your face. “I...” You thought for a moment, before squeezing his hand. “I just need some time to think about this.”
“I-“ James choked out, tears welling up in his eyes. Your own eyes widened. You’d never seen James cry. “I understand.”
Your heart dropped. Even though you’d just found out that he was a murderer, possibly a serial killer, it didn’t mean that you could just turn off your feelings for him. You still loved him, more than anything you’d ever loved. You still felt insanely safe around him. You instinctively reached for him, pulling his body into yours.
You stood on your tiptoes as your head rested on his shoulder. His arms circled around your waist, holding you tightly. His body seemed to relax in your embrace.
“You’re still...” you whispered, silent tears dripping onto his blood-stained shirt, “you’re still you, right?” James tensed again, but nodded against your shoulder.
“Of course, darling,” he whispered back, his voice slightly breaking. He was so close to your ear that you swore you could hear his every breath.
His voice still sent shivers down your spine. His touch still made you weak in the knees. His words still warmed you up inside. He still had that dark hair that you loved so much. He was still the weirdly adorable, stubborn, emotional man that you fell in love with.
“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered.
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