Being A Man In A Suit And Appears Charming But Is Actually A Villain Is My Favorite Combo

being a man in a suit and appears charming but is actually a villain is my favorite combo

Faced death with dignity.

A Lethiferous Date With an Art Deco Man

Pairings: James Patrick March x Female!Witch!Reader

Warnings: Violence. Death. Alcohol. Smoking. Blood. Murder. James Patrick March.

Summary: Y/N is a young witch at Miss Robichaux's Academy. Cordelia has sent her to The Cortez to find out what happened to Queenie and what a coincidence, James March is the one she should talk with.

A/N: Hope you enjoy <3

I was sitting in the bar, smoking a cigarette when I noticed the man I was looking for all day. Finally, James March. This son of a bitch. I watched him from my seat, as he approached the bar counter and started talking with a bartender. I couldn’t hear them, because of the distance, but he probably was ordering a drink. I took a minute to take a closer look at him. Perfectly pressed black striped suit with red tie. Gentleman from a black-and-white movie. 

I put out the cigarette and stood up, straightening my black mini-dress. It took me only a few seconds to take my purse, but when I turned back to the bar counter he was gone. Damn him. 

As I was walking toward the elevator, cursing myself for my sluggishness, I heard someone calling me.

“Miss, wait a minute!”

I turned back. It was a bartender lady.

“You forgot your sunglasses, dear,” she said, handing them to me.

“Thank you very much.” I smiled, getting ready to leave.

“Sorry, do I know you?” she asked, watching me intently. “God, I saw you on CNN! You are one of the witches, right?”

“Yes, I am,” answered I, a bit surprised that she recognized me.

“Gosh, such an amazing meeting!” She hugged me excitedly. “You are part of that coven, where they wear chic black and do spells, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled and then an idea formed in my mind. “Have you, by any chance, seen another witch checking in here? A few weeks ago? Her name is Queenie.”

A smile quickly disappeared from her face. The woman frowned, looking uneasy for a moment. 

"Queenie... no, I don't think I remember that name," she answered with another forced smile, looking away.

"Are you sure?" I pressed on. "She has short, curly hair and..."

"I don't know dear, I’m sorry." She interrupted me.

Her response was too quick and too defensive for my liking. 

"Really? Are you sure you don't remember meeting a woman like that? Not even seen her somewhere?" I pressed on, my eyes studying her face intensely.

The woman shifted uncomfortably, wringing her hands together. Her eyes darted nervously around the lobby, avoiding my gaze. She was clearly hiding something. 

"Well..." she started slowly. "Now that I think about it... I do remember her staying here a few weeks ago."

“And?”

She cleared her throat anxiously, still avoiding looking directly at me. "Well... she didn't stay here long. She checked out very quickly, and didn't like our rooms or something."

I studied her face, trying to determine if she was lying or not. She was a terrible actress. Her eyes were averted, and she was nervously twisting her fingers together.

Before I had a chance to say something she added. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know, dear, have a good stay.” She quickly walked away.

What the hell is going on in this place?

I sighed in annoyance and headed to my room. Walking through the halls I heard muffled screams, after all, Cortez is known as a perfect place for any sort of crime. A brilliant choice for a holiday stay, Queenie. Bravo.

After spending almost the whole day exploring this building and trying to figure out what really happened, this situation started getting on my nerves. Why are there always psychopaths in charge of grand places? 

Even though I had a sneaking suspicion that Queenie could probably be two weeks dead already, a glimpse of hope was still living in my heart. She was a strong witch after all and I hadn’t sensed her spirit here. Having finally become convinced that without magic I couldn’t know anything, I locked the door to my room and began to look for candles in my things.

I placed them in a circle and lighted them in an order. At the academy, Madison and I performed the ritual of summoning the dead a couple of times. It was my first time doing it alone. I stood at the center of the circle mumbling special spells. 

“The ghost of James Patrick March, show yourself.” Nothing really happened. It was oddly quiet and the silence was unsettling. “The ghost of James Patrick March, show yourself. Now.”

“Ah, what a demanding tone.” I heard his voice behind my back and even though I was waiting for him, I flinched anyway. “You know, darling, I may be an old-fashioned man, but I am not used to being invited on a date by women. I am a gentleman after all.”

I turned around and saw him standing in the far corner of the room, leaning casually against the wall. James March, in all of his dapper glory, was watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. "So you have a flair for the dark arts. How delightful." He smirked, looking me up and down.

“Quit your games. I have a business conversation with you.” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

“Ah, skipping the pleasantries?” James chuckled, strolling towards me. He stopped in front of me, looking down with a playful smirk.

“Two weeks ago a witch from my Coven checked in here and now she is missing. Tell everything you know.”

"Before I answer, let's set a condition. I'll tell you what happened to your friend if you give me something in return," he said, tilting his head slightly.

“I will not bargain with you. You are not in charge here, Mr. March, so you better cooperate or I will exorcize you.”

He laughed, clearly seeing through my bluff. 

With a sly smile, James March stepped closer, his eyes roaming over my face. "Oh, darling, you're just trying to scare me. You can't exorcize me, and we both know it. Many tried, but no one succeeded."

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to be intimidated by him. "Try me."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Tsk, tsk, what a feisty witch. Has anyone ever told you that it's charming?"

"Cut the flattery. Tell me what happened to Queenie."

He took another step closer, now only a few inches separating us. He was watching me intently, with a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Now, now, why don't you ask me nicely? Or are you too good for manners, darling?" He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

He chuckled and then turned away, stepping to the window. "You know, I find the tendency of using expletives that young girls have adopted nowadays depressing."

I rolled my eyes at his old-fashioned values. 

"I think you have lived for far too long, March," I retorted, walking closer to him. "It's a new world out there, and new rules apply."  

He turned back to me and smirked. 

"Ah, but old rules still can be fun, darling. And manners are a lost art, sadly," he said, his eyes drifting over my figure. "Some of us prefer a bit of elegance."

“I am happy that you keep ancient traditions,” I replied sarcastically.

He chuckled, his eyes now focused on my face. "You seem quite a character, love. Not afraid of me at all."  

I smiled. "Is that supposed to be menacing? I'm not intimidated."

He arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Most people find me unnerving. Especially the ones who know about my reputation."

"No offense, but you seem like a typical psychopath, who killed dozens and enjoyed it. Nothing special."

“Ah, that’s where you are wrong, prettyhead dear. I’m not just a psycho, as you may say, I am a man that understands true art-”

“I’m not here to analyze your mental disorder, March.” I interrupted him.

He smirked and stepped closer, getting into my personal space. "And I thought we were on such great terms, love. Why so impatient?"  

James leaned in, his breath warm on my cheek. "But you're right, let's get to business. Your friend is missing and you want me to tell you what I know, yes?"

“Right.”

“Well, hypothetically, I know something important, but why would I help you?”

I raised an eyebrow, challenging him. "Oh, please, don't pretend like you don't want to help. I see your pathetic attempts to please me."  

He smirked, enjoying this little game. "But why shouldn't I enjoy this little situation? A pretty young woman, locked in a room with me, doing anything possible to get information from me. Sounds like a win-win."

“Ugh, you are unbearable.” I sighed and sat down on a couch.

He chuckled and sat beside me, his body dangerously close, his shoulder touching mine. "Unbearable, yet you're still here." He turned his head towards me, studying my face. “I can’t fight an urge to help a beautiful lady with her problem, but I will expect something in return.”

I raised an eyebrow, wary of his request. The last thing I wanted was to owe a ghost something. But it was my mission after all.

"And what exactly do you expect in return?" I asked, my tone guarded.

James smiled slyly, leaning closer to me. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous and exciting behind their polite gaze. 

"Nothing major." He said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was cold, like a gust of winter air against my skin. "Just your attention and conversation, I could use some company.”

I tried not to visibly shiver at his icy touch. His request was reasonable enough, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface. 

"That's all? Just conversation?" I inquired, not quite convinced.

"It could be quite boring being a ghost. I don't mind a partner for… playing cards, for example, especially such an interesting one, as yourself," he said, fixing his tie and watching my figure up and down.

I let out a scoff, not entirely surprised by his response. James March, the ladies' man. Hard to admit, but still charming, even after death.

"And here I thought you were a gentleman, Mr. March," I replied, trying to keep a cool demeanor despite his flattery.

James chuckled, amused by my attempt to maintain composure. His gaze never left my face. 

"I am, darling. A gentleman who can appreciate a cunning conversation." He said, looking me in the eyes. "And I enjoy the view as well."

His eyes slowly roamed over my body, shamelessly admiring the curves of my dress. His gaze was intense like a predator sizing up its prey.  

I felt a shiver run down my spine. His blatant flirtations, coupled with the cold touch of his fingers against my skin, sent a strange mix of fascination and unease coursing through me.  

"Fine, let’s say I will owe you." I retorted, forcing myself to sound unfazed. “Now tell me everything you know.”

James chuckled, a pleased smirk playing on his lips. "You're truly delightful when you're being demanding."

He leaned in, his breath cold against my cheek. "But I'm afraid I won't tell you anything here. Let's say, a date somewhere more, hmm, private?"

I arched an eyebrow, suspicious but intrigued. "Private?"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this question. "Oh, nothing too sinister, I assure you. Just dinner. You see, I've grown quite fond of you since you graciously invited me into your room..."

I looked away in hesitation.

"So? Do we have an arrangement?" he asked, standing up from the couch. 

I weighed my options. On one hand, I didn't trust him, and a private dinner seemed... risky, to put it mildly. But on the other hand, this was a way to ensure his full cooperation. He is probably the only one who knows about things that are happening in this place.

"Fine," I replied, standing up as well. "One dinner. But no tricks, no games. I want straight answers to my questions."

He smirked, clearly satisfied with my response. “Anything for such a charming lady. I expect you at 7 pm in room 64, dear.” 

I nodded, not quite sure about the decision I just made. What have I gotten myself into?

"Seven o'clock, room 64," I repeated, looking up at him. "I'll be there."

“Good.” He said, and in a matter of seconds disappeared. 

I was left alone in the room, staring at the spot where he had been just moments ago. Had I just made a deal with a ghost? Oh, Cordelia, I hope you weren't mistaken, you sent me here alone.

I had a few hours before my “dinner”, so I decided to do some research about my “date”. I sat down on the armchair and grabbed my laptop from the desk. I started digging through every online resource I could find. Newspapers, historical records, paranormal articles. Anything that could provide me with information about James March.  

After a few hours, I got a clear picture of this man’s life. He was indeed a former hotel owner, a murderer, and apparently a rather charming psychopath.

I closed my laptop, feeling the weight of the newfound knowledge settling on my shoulders. The man I was about to have dinner with wasn’t just a ghost. He was a horrific serial killer. Cordelia has warned me that he could be dangerous and blah blah, but I haven’t really considered the scale of his crimes. Torture, rape, terrible methods of murder, and an incalculable number of victims. 

I took a deep breath, realizing that I was about to have dinner with a man who had committed the most heinous crimes that I couldn't even imagine. In a way, I was glad that Cordelia had sent me here and that she believed I could handle it. She believed that I could stand up for myself. Even against... him.

I wondered what changed in me that I wasn't horrified by this realization. Instead, the thought of our upcoming meeting was thrilling, exciting even. It was as if a dark magnetic field was sucking me in. And I couldn't resist.

I checked my watch. It was a quarter to seven. I got up from the chair and took a closer look at myself in the mirror. I fixed my makeup and decided to change it into something more “formal dinner” appropriate. The black lace dress below the knees.

The dark fabric contrasted nicely with my pale skin, and the lace pattern gave the dress a romantic flair. I took a few steps around the room to check if I was comfortable in the new outfit.

Satisfied, I looked at my watch again. I was already one minute late. I took a deep breath and headed towards the door. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mind was buzzing with anticipation and nervousness. I glanced one last time at the room as if looking for any excuse not to leave. But I knew I had to go through this.

I walked through the hallway as fast as my high heels allowed, heading towards room 64. As I approached the door, I took a deep breath and gently knocked. I tried to calm my racing heartbeat and mentally prepared myself.

A few seconds later, the door opened slowly. Standing in the doorway was James March, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and a sly smile appeared on his lips.

“Darling, you look entrancing.”

"It's good to know I could meet your standards," I replied, unable to hold in a small smirk. 

I stepped into the room, my eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles providing light. A small table was set against one wall, adorned with a white tablecloth and silverware glimmering faintly in the pale light.

James closed the door behind us, his gaze fixed on me. I walked to my seat, but he was faster. "Allow me, darling." James moved around the chair and pulled it out, gesturing for me to sit down. His manners were impeccable. A true gentleman from a past era. It was hard to believe that it was the same man, who rips open girls' guts as a hobby.

As I took a seat, he moved back to his own chair. “Black suits you splendidly, dearest.” 

I felt something like fear settling inside me for the first time in his presence.

“Would you like a drink, darling? I have a great collection of wine. Or perhaps the lady prefers something more exciting?”

"Wine, please. Red," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I wasn't sure if alcohol would help or hinder this already tense situation, but I needed something to calm my nerves. 

James got up from the chair and walked towards a small cabinet in the corner of the room. He opened it, revealing a collection of various bottles adorned with elegant labels.

He rummaged through the collection, eventually pulling out a bottle of dark red wine. It was an older vintage and had intricate designs.

James grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and returned to the table, pouring the wine into both of them. The dark liquid shimmered in the candlelight, like the blood of his victims.

He handed me one of the glasses, his fingers grazing mine for a moment. His touch was cold and unnerving, yet strangely thrilling.

I took the glass, feeling the weight of it in my hand. I took a sip, trying not to show how much I was shaking on the inside. The wine was smooth and rich, leaving a lingering warmth in my throat. Relax. He can’t harm you. 

James settled back into his chair, taking a sip of his own wine. He watched me silently for a moment, his eyes flickering over my face.

"You seem a bit unsettled, darling," he said, his voice soft and seductive. "Is something troubling you?"

I ignored his question. "You promised to cooperate. What happened to Queenie here?"

"Ah, back to the subject of our friend," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

He took a moment to swirl his wine in the glass, then looked at me again. "Let’s say, she was a necessary link, unluckily for her. Wrong place, wrong time... I suppose it's not too difficult to guess what happened to dear Queenie."

“You couldn’t kill her. She has a voodoo power and-”

James didn't even bother to listen to the end. Instead, he chuckled again, a cold, humorless sound.

"Indeed, I did kill her," he said, leaning back in his chair. “It was a shame if you will allow me, I have always been interested in bearers of the gift of the dark arts.”

“It’s impossible… No one can harm her without harming themselves too, she is a voodoo…”

James chuckled again, clearly amused by my bewilderment. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"Oh, darling, you're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?" he said, his tone mocking. “I am not alive, a ghost, if you recall.” His smirk widened.

The realization felt like a blow. I sat there silently, feeling like a fool. Of course. He was a ghost, a creature of the Hotel, our powers can’t harm him. I took another sip of my wine, silently berating myself for my oversight.

“So she is dead?” I asked calmly.

James nodded a smug smile on his lips. "Oh yes, darling," he said, an almost gleeful tone in his voice. 

“And her ghost? Why can’t I feel the presence of her spirit?”

“Souls need peace at first, she is probably trying to cope with what happened, but you will see her soon. In a few days perhaps… It’s just a matter of time before you cross paths with dear Queenie’s wandering soul.”

Suddenly anger fogged my mind.

“And why the fuck haven’t you told me this right when I asked you?”

“Ah, so the kitten is showing her claws, is she?" James raised an eyebrow at my sudden display of anger. He seemed almost amused by my reaction. “As for the reason… Well, it would be silly of me to miss the opportunity to date such a beautiful lady.” He smiled. 

I stood up from my seat and walked toward the door. God, and I have spent all this time in this dump to find out that she is dead.

"Oh, come now," he said, his voice dripping with mock hurt. "You can't just rush off like that. It's impolite to ditch your host so soon."

He moved closer to me, closing the distance between us. "And besides..."

He reached out a hand, gently touching my shoulder, a sly smile on his lips. "The night is still young, darling."

As his hand touched my shoulder, a shiver ran down my spine. But I pushed the feeling away, determined not to give in to his charms.

"The night may be young, but my patience is not," I said, my voice cold and firm. I stepped toward the exit, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Ms. Y/S, it would please me more if you could stay and join me… For a dessert.”

I tried to pull my hand away from his grip, but his hold on me was strong. His words were spoken like an invitation, but I could hear the underlying hint of demand in them.

"Dessert?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And what kind of dessert would that be? Perhaps, the one that requires my dead body on a table?” I said sarcastically.

James chuckled softly at my jest. "Oh, darling," he said, his voice dripping with fake shock. “I assure you, it's nothing so sinister as that. "He released my hand. "Although, the idea of you on a table... Now that is an enticing thought." 

“You disgust me.” I rolled my eyes and reached for the door handle. 

He blocked my way with his figure. “Please, darling, don’t leave. I will not do you any harm, you can have my word.” James slowly took both of my hands in his. “See, if I wanted you dead, I would have mixed something into your drink, don’t you think?” He brought my left hand to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

Despite my disgust, a shiver ran down my spine as James took my hands in his. His touch was smooth, almost seductive. I tried to push the feeling away, but his words rang true. If he had wanted to harm me, he could have done so many times already. As he kissed my knuckles, I felt a sudden tug of hesitation within me. I wanted to pull away, to maintain my anger toward him, but his touch was disarming. He is so handsome. I am just drunk.

“I am a man after all. Can’t a man desire a woman’s attention?” He brought one of my hands to his chest, resting it against his heart. "Can you feel it?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

My head was almost spinning, and I felt numb. James' voice was like a sweet poison, seeping into my veins and dulling my senses. I could feel my resistance weakening, my anger fading. I tried to shake off the feeling, but his touch was intoxicating.

I couldn’t feel the steady beat of his heart, because, well, he was dead, but there was something strangely soothing in this gesture. I couldn't deny it... He did have an effect on me.

“I…”

James smirked at my half-formed response, his grip tightening around my hand. "Yes, darling?" he prompted, his voice low and seductive.

He stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between us. "What were you about to say?"

“I can’t stay.” My voice was embarrassingly shaky.

James chuckled softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Can't," he echoed, the word lingering between us.

He ran a finger gently down my cheek, his touch sending another shiver down my spine. "But do you want to stay?" he whispered, his eyes searching mine. “You see… I don’t think I could let you go, dearest.”

Our faces were mere inches apart, the space between us filled with tension. I could feel his breath against my skin, his body pressed against mine.

"I..."

My voice trailed off. Part of me wanted to stay, to let myself fall into this seductive dance. But another part, a stronger part, was screaming for me to leave, to gather my thoughts and regain control over my emotions. He fucking killed hundreds of people. He fucking killed Queenie. 

As my mind fought between desire and reason, James seemed to sense my inner conflict. He smirked, and his hand gently stroked my cheek.

"Such a struggle, darling," he said softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Trying to decide between your desires and your morals?"

“Mr. March, it’s-”

“Shh…” He put his finger to my lips.

James gently shushed me, his finger on my lips silencing my words. His eyes flicked to my mouth, lingering briefly on my lips before returning to my eyes.

"Call me James, darling," he said, his voice low and intimate. 

I tried to gather my thoughts for a response, but his gaze, fixed on my mouth, made it difficult to concentrate. "James..." I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “If my supreme finds out about it… I should go.” I broke free from his grip and quickly ran out the door. Strange, but he didn't follow me. 

I continued walking, turning around a couple of times. I could still feel the lingering effects of James' touch on my skin, his words echoing in my mind.

I needed to report back to Cordelia, to tell her about what had happened here and needed to quickly get out of this damn place. I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing through the empty hotel halls. The further I got from room 64, the easier it became to think clearly again.

As I turned the corner, I saw my own room door. Relief washed over me, and I walked toward it. 

“Crazy night, don't you think?” I heard a female voice behind me. Turning around, I saw a young woman leaning against the wall. Black dress, smudged makeup, ripped tights, and a cigarette between her fingers.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked her, as she slowly walked to me. The woman took a drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she sized me up. 

She chuckled and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You indeed are quite the beauty.” The woman gave me a once-over, her gaze lingering on my features. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light as she spoke again. "Now I understand what all the fuss is about," she said, taking another casual drag from her cigarette.

I sighed tiredly. “Miss, I have no idea what you are talking about, now excuse me, but I have to sleep.” As I turned to leave, I felt a sharp pain in my side, just below my ribs. I winced, reaching a hand back to feel the spot where the pain had surged. To my shock, my fingers came back stained red with blood.

"What the-" I started, turning back to the woman in disbelief. 

“Nothing personal.” She said stabbing me right into my chest. I tried to use my powers on her, but nothing happened. The pain was searing. I was helpless. Fear ran through me, and I stumbled backward, trying to distance myself from her. She took another drag from her cigarette, a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Suddenly, everything began to spin. The hallway grew fuzzy around me, and I felt my legs give out. The pain in my chest and side was intense, and I felt myself begin to lose consciousness. I hit the floor with a thud, my head spinning. Darkness threatened to take me. 

I saw the figure of a woman standing near me, watching me bleeding out. The world around me had become a hazy blur, but I could make out a second silhouette near her. I heard a distant voice. Male voice.

“Ah, great work, Sally! I knew that I could rely on you. Now I think you deserve an evening with John.”

“This is the last time I do your dirty work, March.” I heard the woman's answer. 

“Don’t be dramatic, after all, you have just made me the happiest man on earth.” 

The last thing I heard was a soft chuckle. Then everything faded to black.

i 💚 chappell roan 🗽

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