Summery: As ghosts, seeing your estranged lover is hard to do. Especially when your 'final resting spot' isn't the Cortez.
Themes: Fluff -> Smut -> Fluff, Cameo/Foreshadowing, Dead Dove Don't Eat, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Cussing, Devil's Night Shenanigans, Hotel Shenanigans, Lovey Dovey James, Murder, Pet Names (Darling, Dear, my Love, etc), Sassy!Reader (I've missed them), Sloppy Kissing/Sex, Stupid!Silly!James, Unprotected Sex (They're ghosts...),
Word Count:
Once a year, only once, does he get to see you. It's and unfortunate arrangement, but there's not much to do about it. You died outside the Hotel, which he didn't learn about till the next Devil's Night.
"Oh, dear, you must be more smart next time," He chimed in that annoyingly sweet accent of his. It would drip with condensation each time he would lecture you, and now you're forced to only imagine it until October 30th each year.
The vinyl spins as the man paces, knowing you'll be the first to arrive, even before John Lowe of all people. The door opens and we swings his head around, eyes wide as he spots you. Three long strides and he's at you, arm around your waist as he sinks his nose into your neck.
People say that March is a loving man, but they don't know the half of it. He's possessive, especially when it comes to his lovers, which he's had and has many of. James is nothing more than a growl-y mess when he's without a partner, and being unable to hear your voice, see your face, touch you... he's pent up.
"Darling, how I've missed you." He purrs, lips pressed against your pulse point, despite there not being a single beat in your chest. He nips slightly, pouting as you pull away.
"You're too much already, my love." You murmur. Something about James changes you, the way you think, the way you speak. If your heart were beating, it'd be racing.
The two of you are time capsules of two different eras, but when together, you intertwine like fibers of yarn. Two sides of the same coin, if you will.
"Can't a man hunger for a beautiful thing such as you?" He hums softly, his forehead against yours as he hums and chuckles, clearly excited to see you but trying to play it cool.
Your hand comes up to his face, "Yes, but I barely took two steps into the room, dear." You smile, watching him take your hand and twirl you around before pulling you against his chest, chin resting upon your shoulder. "James!"
"Ah, ah, my darling... Shut up a moment and let me enjoy your company before anyone else gets here." He says, a slight growl in his chest.
"Ridiculous..." You murmur, but don't move. His hands wrap tightening around your waist, a hand over your stomach and another rubbing up and down your arm.
"You adore it, however..." He whispers in your ear, a few soft kisses pressing against your temple. His arms constrict around you tighter, making you tense and arch your back and gasp out his name again.
Before you can say anything more, he presses his nose into the nape of your neck. You feel that his lips slightly parted, as if ready to sink teeth into you given the command. You stay in this position, not sound but your soft yet sharp breathe and his small chuckle.
"James..." You murmur, only to me met back with your name in a loving, singalong tone, lips moving against your skin as he speaks.
"You look ravishing, my love... Why, I could just... eat you up." He whispers, leaving small bites along the side of your neck.
You groan, your eyes rolling back as you relax in his arms, "I hate you." You whisper.
"On the contrary. I believe you're just as fascinated in me as I am you."
"Mayhaps, but only if you let me turn around and kiss you silly, dear."
With that you're turned around and pressed against the door, wet sounds of lips and teeth clashing filling the space between you both. His hands cup your face and holds it in place as he explores your mouth with his tongue, reminding himself of the shape and taste after a year of not having you.
You're still pinned against the wood as he pulls away, teeth clamped down on your lip. When your lip snaps back to your faces, it's bleeding. However, you're still smiling. He grins back at you, licking your blood off his lips.
"I've missed you more than life itself." He pants out, his hand around his ascot, loosening it.
"And I the same, dear." You murmur, your hands helping him get as little undressed as he needs. You're palming him through his briefs, his eyes rolling back.
"You are bewitching." He growls, taking his cock out before quickly moving to undo your own zipper. "I can't handle it any longer, you're intoxicating. As soon as you walked in-"
"Shut up, your dirty talk is a turn off." You hiss out before kissing him roughly. He gasps, kissing back and pulling you into his surprisingly strong arms.
"You'll regret saying that." He purrs, lining up with your hole. Before you can snap back, he pushes in. You gasp, your eyes rolling shut.
James pushes deeper, eyes boring down at you as he grunts out, smiling sadistically wide. You moan out, your eyes opening slightly to see him looking down before they roll shut again.
You moan out his name with each inch he pushes in and he responds in a grunt each time, his cock twitching. "You still wish for me to be silent?"
"No- maybe- fuck shut up-" You moan out, your back arching off the door. Something snaps inside of James and he pulls out, holding you in his arms before spreading you out on the closest surface.
"No, I don't think I will. I'm going to fill you up and make you walk around like that all night, love." He growls out, spitting into his hand before stroking it onto his cock. "You're mine, you know this?"
"Y-Yours..." You repeat, gasping as he enters you again.
"Exactly, darling. Mine." He growls out, leaning over you and biting your neck again, harder this time.
You moan out, the pleasure already too much. You know he can go for hours, but he's on a time crunch. He's faster, making your body tremble. He pumps in and out of you, filling the need you both had for the past 365 days.
"James- James, slow down-" You cry out, but he doesn't. He speed up, growling and grunting with each trust inside you. "James!" You cry out, your back and ass arching completely off whatever surface he placed you on.
"That's it, love. Scream for me." He says with a sadistic purr. "Let the whole floor know you're mine." He whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your entire body.
"James- Fuck, James I'm gonna-"
"Don't you dare..." He growls out, pounding harder. "You're not allowed release. Not after being such a rude little thing to me earlier. You're getting exactly what you deserve, darling.
"You can't cum, you can't even clean up before the rest of my lovely guests arrive. You'll be dripping all night. Is that what you want?"
You nod, biting your lip and whimpering as he speed up even more. His hips meet yours, the wet sound of skin slapping filling the room.
"If you cum, I'll have to punish you, you know this, yes?" He murmurs, panting as he looks down at you with wide, feral eyes, like a predator. You nod quickly, making him grin wider. "Good." He whispers in your ear before biting at your lope teasingly.
"I'm going to fill you up. You're such a good little toy. Darling, I'm going to- agh, you devil-" He groans, cock throbbing before you fill his release paint your insides.
You moan out sharply, eyes rolling shut. The both of you are frozen in time for a long moment, one that feels like it lasts forever. You finally feel him move, opening your eyes slowly to watch as he wipes himself before tucking himself away.
"Up. You must help me fix the decorations, dear. It is your fault they're ruined now." He mumbles, rolling his eyes as if he hadn't just fucked your brain out.
You stand up and he helps, gentle, unlike earlier. He pulls you into his arms for a brief moment, nipping your ear before whispering, "Mine" one last time.
As ordered, you realign the decorations, noticing the poker chips on the table in front of each seat. "Darling, what are these for?" You ask, holding one up and looking at it.
"These are vintage chips, my love. From the year I finished the hotel, to be exact. We'll have a game with those late." James grins,taking the chip back and placing it perfectly in it's spot.
You raise and eyebrow, looking at the time. You realize that no one has come in and the party is supposed to start soon. He pulls you aside and presses his face into your neck once more, kissing softly. "I'm sure I wasn't too rough, was I, dear?"
His voice is soft, almost sorry, but that isn't the kind of word you'd use to describe James often. You shake your head, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. "Course not, sweetheart."
That's when you hear a cough behind you, both you and your lover jumping slightly and looking towards the door. That's when you see him.
John Lowe stand in the door way, dead eyed smiling at both you. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Keepsakes from Gauntlet at the Garden! Shout out to the one (1) person in my section who traded dice with me, whose mushroom D 20 I will cherish forever, and the person who had no dice to offer so instead they gave me a Mr. March friendship bracelet!
(I was in a Sofia Lee inspired outfit so I Greatly appreciated it. I also called out to my section at intermission holding a large can of Angry Orchid, asking if anyone had any dice to trade, so I would like to believe I was successfully in character)
Summery: The year is March, 1922. James Patrick March, of course, is looking forward to the perfect killing he's ever staged. The workshop title is just the day, Ides de March. Of course, being a friend of the same hobby, you want in on it.
Themes: 1920s, Angsty Fluff (it's James?), Graphic Descriptions of Violence, He Kills People™, Historical Accuracy, Predeath!March, Blood Talk (a lot of it), Cheesy and Lovey Dovey, Dancing, Kissing, Hand Holding (before marriage? gasp!), Racism mentions (KKK), You Kill a Cop!! Woo!!
Word Count: 1.2k
James sat at the desk, smoking a cigar as jazz plays the background. You sit on the couch, legs crossed as you watch him stare into place, mesmerized by the focus on his face, despite him not having spoke in a long time.
He taps at the foot of the cigar, knocking it down against the ash tray before tucking it away and folding his arms against his desk. He finally looks in your direction, eyes wide as he smiles.
"My dear, we should get this going. It is almost sun down." His grin turns almost so wicked you can taste it. He trots over to you, putting a hand out with a slight bow. "May we dance?" He asks knowingly.
You stand, taking his hand and nod, "Of course, Mr. March"
James takes your hand, placing it on his shoulder while his other wraps around your waist, his lips brushing into your neck as he pulls you impossibly close, swaying the both of your bodies side to side. "You are incredible, darling. I can't believe we pulled it off."
"Oh, dear, don't humble me. You did most of the work. I was just the one that got all the addresses, allergies, schedules... oh, well it seems I did do most the works." You snicker slightly, swaying along to the gentle jazz that rings from the radio.
You're sent back to watching March, posing the bodies of the dozen of men, to match the painting "The Death of Julius Caesar". He had prepared for it for many weeks, his brain racking up the idea later one night when the both of you had been drinking absinthe and chatting philosophy.
"You see, dear, not only am I an artist, but a genius." He boasts, breaking a bone so it snaps in place on the support. "I figured out how to hang the string without even using a ladder, you know." He grins, eyes wild with blood lust, face dripping with crimson.
"Very interesting, darling." You coo, draping a cloth over the same corpse to mimic a Roman tunic. The fabric is the same color as the blood dripping onto the floor that you'll have to wipe up in a moment. "Sweetheart, you need to be more careful, you're tracking blood all around. If you step in it, you know you'll get caught."
"Nonsense, darling. I'm not the only man in all of the City of Angels that wears Goodyear Welts." He snickers, whipping a sleeve along his chin, looking down as the fabric is dyed claret with wonder and amusement.
"But I'm sure not most men are wide-foot, flat-footed, and wear a size 9." You scold, getting on your knee and wiping the blood dribbles up quickly. "You're a very unique man, my dear." You say as you smile up at him, batting your lashes ever so slightly.
"Oh, how you know me dear. It almost makes me feel like dancing right here and now, as if you made music." He smiles deeply, holding your cheek in one hand, rubbing a stripe of blood onto your skin. He laughs, his grin growing evermore joyous. "We should celebrate. But not now, there is too much to do. Come, on to the next one, chop chop."
You hurry along, taking his hand as he pulls you toward the bodies. As you see the faces, all older, white men. You knew this men as the ones you had picked; the racists, the bigots, the scum of Los Angeles that were all members of the rancid Klu Klux Klan that ran most of Southern California. You grimaced as you picked up a new cloth, rolling your eyes as you walked behind James, who carried the large Man's corpse.
"Is this him? Our Julius?" He asks, like a kid, bouncing with each step. He's beyond giddy. You had picked the man, a rewarded police officer and member of the KKK.
"Yes, he is, darling. Doesn't he look the part?" You smile, looking at the corpse in your lover's arms. His lifeless face was going me be glamorized by you with a little glue later, to match James' preference and vision.
March shimmies over to the spot between the rest of the already posed men, laying him down against a box, which was a stand in for the statue in the painting. He cleared his throat, grimacing as he realizes the pose will be much harder, lower to the ground. He snarls, dropping the body and stomping away, looking around frantically.
"James, honey..." You say, draping the cloth over the body and walking up to him, your hands shaking slightly before meeting his arm. He looks at you, a wild look in his almost black with how dilated his pupils are with rage. He softens as he sees your concern, shaking his head as he recognized his outburst. "We can do this. Together, right?" You smile, hand clasping his.
"Together. Yes, of course. How could I get anywhere without you, darling?" He grins, pulling you into his arms and turning you around, arms wrapped around your waist tightly as he nips at your neck with a slight growl. "My, we must be finishing up soon, before I create... more evidence to clean up."
You both chuckle and laugh as you help him pose the last body, and then letting him watch you create the face expressions with a tube of glue and time.
The night passes into early morning, the moon still hung in the sky as you make it back the the Hotel Cortez. James had Miss Evers bring up a bottle of the best for the both of you, one of your favorites he swore to you up and down he didn't kill for, promising he would if he had to, however.
You dance with him, drink, exchange whispers and secrets, sweet nothings and gentle kisses. If it weren't for the fact you both were tired from the entire night of propping dozen of heavy corpses of bigots and extremely under the influence, you might have seen the sun rise before hit the hay.
James and you wake up in the morning, a wonderful assortment of fruits and pancakes waiting for you. Your clothes from the night before are already washed clean of the blood stains and gore, pressed and ready for wear.
You watch your lover as he sits at the table, twiddling his fingers around his cigarette. He finally looks up at you, placing down his cigarette holder, standing and walking around the table to you. He presses the tip of his nose into your hair, the faintest hint of blood and your shampoo filling his nose, along with something uniquely you.
"My dear, I fear I might love you more than killing."
"Oh, really?" You ask bashfully, eyes wide as you look up at him. "You think of me so fondly, James?"
"Of course, sweetheart. You make my heart beat and my soul feel alive, much more than any kill has." He says softly, eye's staring into yours as he caresses your cheek softly, thumb pinching at the ball of it.
You smile as he leans down, your lips meeting his half way as he lowers himself, a slightly groan escaping his lips. "You're like a shining light, it burns red hot. Your aura is like nothing I've ever seen. Perfect for such a rare person."
Summery: After murdering the man who was going to kill you, you find yourself wanting to stay in the hotel your kidnapper brought you to.
Themes: Angst (it's JPM) -> Fluff, Cameos if you squint, Dead Dove Don't Eat, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Cussing, Hotel Shenanigans, Kidnapping (not by James), Murder, Sassy!Reader (i love them your honer), Stupid!Silly!James (but only slightly), Reader murders said Kidnapper, Really Hotelcore (James doesn't show up forever),
Word Count: 2.1k
You wake up, head pounding as you realized your gagged and your hands are behind you back. You look around, realizing your in a bathtub in what looks to be a really nice bathroom, the door open to another room. You struggle, making enough noise to alert your taker.
"Oh look- the little shit's awake." Says the man as he watches you from the doorway. You can't see much of his face, a skull half mask over his face. "Don't you wanna know what I'mma do to ya?" He laughs.
You shake your head, eyes wide as he walks forward, brown hair cascading over his face as he look down at you. He flips open a knife and looking down at you as you shiver and squirm, trying you best to get away. The bathtub is slippery, and it doesn't help that your hands are tied behind your make.
"Too bad, sweetheart. I'm gonna cut you open. I'mma make you bleed. And you ain't gonna be able to do shit about it." He chuckles, bring the knife to your skin. You cry out, pulling away as much as you can. "Don't move!" He yells at you, a stern growl rumbling in his chest.
You shake you head, trying to talk, but he just laughs. "You wanna talk? Okay. I take that shit out your mouth, you better not scream. Or else I'mma cut your tongue out and keep you alive much longer than you'd wanna be in my hands."
You nod, tears streaming down your cheek. He presses the knife against your neck as his fingers dig into your mouth, taking out the gag. He presses a finger over your mouth, taking the knife and putting it in his pocket. "Speak."
You stammer out, begging in a whisper, "Please don't do this- I mean, is there something you want? Money?" You try to barter with him for your life.
"No, what I wanna do is see you bleed. See you cry." He says, his tone dark and intimidating.
"Okay, yeah, I get that but like- is there a reason? Is it the way I look or-... are you just crazy?"
You're met with a harsh slap against your cheek and a growl. "You are not in the position to talk to me like that!" He grunts out, standing up and throwing the gag at you. "You think you're so smart!?"
"Yeah, I do, jackass." You spit out, looking up at him as he paces.
"That mouth of yours is gonna get you nowhere! You're dead!" He yells, a low laugh coming from his chest. "You're gonna die in that fucking bathtub bitch!" The man grabs your shirt and pulls you up, his hot breath hitting your face.
This is your opportunity. You headbutt him, causing him to fall back with his grip still on you, getting you out of the tub. You crash onto of him, biting into his ear. "Un-fucking-tie me now!"
"Crazy bitch! No!" He grabs you, flipping your positions and holding you down, thumbs pushed into your throat. "Didn't want to kill you this way but you give me no choice."
Your eyes widen as you choke, rolling back slightly as you gasp for air. As you're about to pass out, you hear a thunk and finally are able to breath again, your assaulter falling down next to you.
The air around you is cold as you look up, seeing no one around. You stand, to the best of your abilities and look around, trying to find anything to free you from your binds. That's when you spot it on the side of the bathtub; his knife. You turn around, picking it up and flipping it open, carefully trying to cut at the ropes that have now burnt into your skin.
You free yourself, looking down at the unconscious man on the floor. In a fit of rage, you raise the knife and lower it down onto his back, over, and over again. You don't stop till your breathless, and even then, you find yourself carving into his skin. You turn him over, taking off his mask and looking at him. Truly looking at him.
You decide that you'll deface him. The thought of what he was going to do to you and probably had done to other people makes your heart race. You cut one word onto his forehead: EVIL.
Then everything after is a blur. You wake up, disorientated and confused. You're laying on the bed, which is actually quite plush and relaxing. "Ah, you're awake I see." You hear, a voice straight out of early radio.
You shoot up, look towards the source of the voice. A man, well dressed in a pressed suit sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. You sit up, your blood soaked hands pressing into the comforter you laid on. "Don't worry about the blood, darling, Miss Evers can get anything out of anything." He says, standing up.
"Get back, Al Capone wanna be, I'm not in the mood to talk to nobody-" You pause, looking at him. Something about him feels... off. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Lovely way of phrase, my dear," He smirk cheekily, taking one step towards you. "My name is James Patrick March, and I built the hotel you're in currently."
"This shit looks like it's from the 20th century, there's no way you- shiiiiit...." You laugh slightly, "Am I dead?"
"No, no, of course not. You're only seeing ghosts, you're not yet one of us." He laughs. "No need to panic. I have no ill intentions. In fact, quite the opposite."
"Oh, really? Cool, I get kidnapped, brought to some haunted hotel, and now a ghost is talking to me. My life's a movie or some shit." You stand up, walking to the bathroom, pausing as your hand turns the knob. You freeze, much like a deer in headlights. You swallow hard, slowly opening it to find no body, no body, or anything but the white tile and white towels.
"I had that man disposed of. Off premises, so you won't have to see him again." James says, voice almost sultry. He takes a step towards you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
Or at least he wanted. You immediately turn around and slap him. His cheek feels oddly solid. "You..." He says, his voice slightly dark. He looks at you, head down and brows furrowed. He takes a deep breathe, steeling himself. "It takes time for you to get over the first one. You may not trust me now, but you will one day."
He puts up his hands, making a slight face before he steels that as well. He looks at you and tilts his head slightly as he goes to walk away. "Take your time. I mustn't push you in any direction. Come back whenever you feel, dear." He bows before walking away. You go to look at him to bite back, but you don't see him. The room is filled with a terrible chill.
◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐
You don't know why, but you... stay. You go to the front desk, find out the dipshit who took you had said you were his drunk partner who fell asleep on the way from the airport. Got a room for the entire weekend. Fantastic. "Well... can I... get the money back?"
"No. We don't have refunds." The lady at the desk says, clearly not taking any of your suspected bull crap. You groan, turning around to see the very man you wished you'd never seen. James March. "Oh- Mister March. How can I- I help you?" The lady at the desk says, swallowing. You look back at her, seeing the slight change in demeanor.
"Wait- you know about him?" You laugh, rolling your eyes. "This whole place is crazy!" You stomp, going towards the exit.
"No, no, you don't want to leave." James says, smiling. "Or maybe... you should try." He says slightly cheekily. "Go. Go out the door." He eggs on.
"Fuck. You." You spit, watching his surprised reaction. "You know what? I will. I'll use that jackass' card and stay! I'm not leaving that fucking room, and since you fixed my little problem, why not? You know?"
He laughs softly, shaking his head as he turns around and leaves. "Have it your way."
You look back at the petrified woman behind you, who looks at you like you're either a devil or an angel. She takes a step back and you throw your hands up, making her quickly turn and walk into a room behind her.
You laugh slightly, "Your finest. Thanks." You say, walking back towards the stairs and elevator, groaning.
◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐
You sit in your room, hearing a knock on your door. "Your bubbly." A voice sings, knocking again. You go to open it, being met with another strange person. A bald woman with extravagant clothing pushes a cart, an icebox with champagne. "May I come in?"
"Uh... sure. As long as you're not gonna try and kill me too." You laugh slightly, seeing a shocked expression on her face. "Not that it's anyone you know." You quickly say.
"Oh, thank goodness, I thought you were-..." She laughs, pushing the cart in and sitting on the bed. "Tell me more. You seem shaken up bout all this."
"Uh... yeah. I was gonna die. I'm not having a great night."
"Oh, I see. And the guy? Where is he?"
"I killed him. That's 20s dude got rid of the body or whatever." You groan, pouring yourself a glass of the champagne and holding it out towards the woman.
She looks at you, wide eyes as she looks at you. "Oh. Uh, no. I'm okay. I have to tend the bar downstairs." She says, getting up quickly. "Uh... Good luck."
You look back at her, eye brows raised in shock as she quickly scrambles out of the room, leaving the cart with you. It is not long before you hear a knock on the door, expecting she'd come back for the cart. You open the door and see, not the woman, but James Patrick March standing with a bottle of green liquor.
"Way I come in?" He asks, eyes boring into your own. He's not asking, which is clear by the way he walks past you, setting the bottle on the cart. "I see you're having fun with your little... announce." He smiles, looking at you as he pulls a glass form the bottom of the cart, then another.
"The hell do you want?" You ask, steam almost pouring out your ears. "You're a creep, you know that?"
"Oh, you wound me." He chuckles, waving a dismissive hand at you. "Come on, you know you want to talk about it. The thriller, or the awakening. Come on, spill your guts, not literally."
You look at him, a disgusting feeling in the pit of your stomach, shaking your head. "No. I'm never thinking about it again." You say bluntly. The man does nothing but sip his drink, smiling at you.
He nods, sitting in the chair. He doesn't say anything, only looks at him. It makes your feeling grow, and your mind wander. You roll your eyes and try to ignore him, but the presence of another being, dead or alive, around you right now is overwhelming. You take the bottle of champagne and watch him scramble to get out the way, much like a cartoon.
"Are you MAD?!" He yells out, looking at you.
"Yeah. Get the fuck out!"
"You think I'd let something like you go? I will not let your genius and skill go to waste!" He belts out, stepping forward and looking into your eyes. "Do you not see? This is only the beginning. And what a lovely gift to come tonight."
"Gift?" You ask, backing away from his grasp as he goes to touch your cheek. "You're not making any sense, and I don't think this is a generational thing."
He laughs, tsking softly. "You wouldn't understand, not yet. Not until you see from my point of view, darling." He laughs, pouring the second glass of the emerald beverage. "Come on. Won't you celebrate with me?" He starts to hand you the drink, grabbing your wrist and looking at you with a strange look.
"Celebrate what?!"
"My Deathday, of course." He laughs, pointing at the lock. "It's almost that time, as well." He smirks, the clock reading '2:24'.
Before you can say anything, James looks at you with wide eyes. "Drink with me. Join me." He smiles wider, looking at you expectantly.
And for whatever reason? You drink. The clock switches and you hear a soft jazz start to play, a quick calming sensation as the absinthe falls into the pit of your belly and throughout your body.
