#Hotel Pricing Scraping

[actowiz135]

Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com – A Complete Guide

Our comprehensive guide, "Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com," takes you through the intricate art of extracting valuable information from one of the worlds most popular travel and hotel booking platforms.

[actowiz-123]

Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com – A Complete Guide

Our comprehensive guide, "Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com," takes you through the intricate art of extracting valuable information from one of the worlds most popular travel and hotel booking platforms.

[iwebscrapingblogs]

Hotel Price Monitoring - Scrape Hotels Data and Prices Data

In the digital age, data is king, and nowhere is this more evident than in the hospitality industry. Hotels, resorts, and accommodation providers operate in a highly competitive landscape where pricing strategies can make or break profitability. This is where hotel price monitoring through web scraping becomes invaluable.

Understanding Hotel Price Monitoring

Hotel price monitoring involves the systematic tracking and analysis of hotel room rates across various platforms. This process enables hoteliers, revenue managers, and travel agencies to stay informed about market trends, competitor pricing strategies, and consumer preferences.

Traditionally, gathering such data was a manual and time-consuming task. However, with advancements in technology, web scraping has emerged as a powerful tool for automating data extraction from hotel booking websites, travel aggregators, and other online platforms.

The Power of Web Scraping

Web scraping involves extracting data from websites using automated scripts or bots. By leveraging web scraping techniques, businesses can collect vast amounts of information quickly and efficiently. In the context of hotel price monitoring, web scraping enables the extraction of real-time pricing data, room availability, and other relevant information from multiple sources.

Benefits of Hotel Price Monitoring

Competitive Intelligence: By monitoring competitor pricing strategies, hotels can adjust their own rates to remain competitive in the market. This real-time insight allows them to capitalize on demand fluctuations and maximize revenue.

Dynamic Pricing: Hotel price monitoring facilitates the implementation of dynamic pricing strategies, where room rates are adjusted based on factors such as demand, seasonality, and competitor pricing. This flexibility allows hotels to optimize revenue and occupancy rates.

Market Analysis: Analyzing historical pricing data can provide valuable insights into market trends, seasonal variations, and consumer behavior. This information can inform strategic decision-making and marketing efforts.

Forecasting: Hotel price monitoring data can be used to forecast future demand and adjust pricing strategies accordingly. This proactive approach helps hotels anticipate fluctuations in demand and optimize revenue generation.

Implementing Hotel Price Monitoring

To implement hotel price monitoring effectively, businesses need to follow a structured approach:

Identify Data Sources: Determine the websites and platforms from which pricing data will be extracted. This may include hotel booking websites, online travel agencies (OTAs), and meta-search engines.

Develop Scraping Scripts: Create custom scraping scripts or utilize web scraping tools to extract data from target websites. Ensure compliance with website terms of service and legal regulations governing data extraction.

Data Cleaning and Analysis: Cleanse and preprocess the scraped data to remove duplicates, errors, and irrelevant information. Perform statistical analysis and visualization to derive actionable insights.

Automation and Monitoring: Automate the scraping process to collect real-time data at regular intervals. Set up alerts and notifications to monitor changes in competitor pricing and market conditions.

Challenges and Considerations

While hotel price monitoring offers significant benefits, there are some challenges and considerations to keep in mind:

Data Quality: Ensuring the accuracy and reliability of scraped data can be challenging, as websites may employ anti-scraping measures or frequently update their structure.

Ethical and Legal Concerns: Adhere to ethical standards and legal regulations governing web scraping, including respecting website terms of service, copyright laws, and data privacy regulations.

Technical Complexity: Developing and maintaining scraping scripts requires technical expertise in programming languages such as Python, as well as knowledge of web technologies and APIs.

Dynamic Nature of Pricing: Hotel room rates can change rapidly in response to market dynamics, requiring real-time monitoring and agile decision-making.

Conclusion

In an increasingly competitive hospitality industry, hotel price monitoring through web scraping provides businesses with a strategic advantage. By harnessing the power of data, hotels can optimize pricing strategies, enhance competitiveness, and maximize revenue potential. However, successful implementation requires careful planning, technical expertise, and adherence to ethical and legal considerations. With the right approach, hotel price monitoring can unlock valuable insights and drive business success in the dynamic world of hospitality.

[mobiledatascrape]

Hotel App Data Scraping Services | Extract Hotel Room Prices

Efficient hotel app data scraping services to extract hotel room prices in the USA, UK, UAE, China, India, Australia, Germany, and Spain. Get the best rates today!

know more:

[delulujuls]

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

[floralpascal]

Lines Crossed

Summary: Ghost realizes that he needs you more than he thought and makes a risky trip to your room while trying not to get caught.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship, Ghost realizing that he's absolutely whipped

A/N: The idea of Ghost being whipped just took over my mind and this is what came out. This was so much fun to write that I'm thinking about making this a mini series looking at various points in their relationship

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

There were lines Ghost didn’t cross.

He didn’t get involved. He didn’t let himself care. And he sure as hell didn’t let himself need someone.

For you, though, he seemed to be willing to cross every single line imaginable whether he liked it or not. He had gotten involved, telling himself then that it was just a one-time thing. He would get his fill of you for a night and he would be done, finally able to get you off of his mind. But that hadn’t been how it had gone down. Having you once only let the hold you had on him dig in deeper, settling in his bones until he found himself in your bed again. And again.

With each secret night spent in your room or his, a shitty hotel or a secluded backroom, whatever this was with you pulled him deeper into the unknown. His thoughts drifted to you even when you weren’t in the room. He found himself being more protective of you in the field. He began to check in on you enough that Soap had finally said, “Styx will be fine, Ghost. She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.” Soon, he had to finally admit that he had crossed the second line. He cared.

The third line…

Ghost groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. Staring into the darkness of his room for hours with sleep evading his grasp, he was starting to grow both restless and frustrated. Having trained himself to fall asleep under any conditions in order to scrape together any amount of sleep he could while in the field, his newfound difficulties falling asleep were an unwelcome surprise. It had plagued him for the last month, making him markedly more irritable - enough to draw the entire team’s attention. He had blown off Price when he had carefully broached the subject, asserting that there was nothing wrong at all. Lie.

It was your bloody fault. It was your face that kept him up at night in one way or another. It was the way you looked when your head was tipped back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he fucked you. It was the way you looked out in the field, your strong shoulders square and hard eyes trained forward as you held your gun and swept a building. It was your pained grimace as Ghost tried to stop the bleeding from the bullet you had taken to the stomach a year ago.

His head filled with a mix of scenes of bliss and scenes of horror, both of which you were the star of. Either way, it kept his brain whirring enough to ward away sleep. His mind was a whirlwind, fast and screaming and disorienting with the thought of you.

You were barely fifty meters away from him right now, your own room merely on the other side of the corridor. He couldn’t believe he was imagining walking down to your room now, in the middle of the night with everyone else in their own rooms right down the hall. It was dumb and reckless and-

And the thought alone made him feel better.

The thought of your skin on his, your hands buried in his hair, and your mouth on his was like a forbidden salve to his irritation. Having you under him, so vibrant and alive, chased away all the scenes of you in danger that his mind seemed to love to conjure up these days.

Irrational thoughts plagued him now, too. What if something was wrong with you? What if you were hurt? Forget the fact that they were on a secure base or that he had seen you only hours earlier, it didn’t matter to Ghost’s brain in the dark like this. Though he logically knew that his thoughts were irrational figments of his overactive mind, his body didn’t seem to be getting the memo.

It was like he wasn’t convinced you were safe until he saw you himself. Until he felt the plush of your skin under his fingers.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled, practically dumbfounded by his own decision, as he forcefully flung the covers from his body. He grabbed the balaclava from his nightstand, slipping the soft cloth over his face before throwing a random shirt over his bare torso.

The corridor was empty at this time of night, but Ghost stayed vigilant anyways. He crept toward your door, eyes on the other gray doors that housed the rest of the 141. He had never been this bold, this reckless, as to try to slip into your room when everyone was asleep in their own rooms right beside yours, usually limiting your nights together to when the other guys went out to a pub or split up to go on leave. If anyone caught him - your superior - slipping into your room in the middle of the night, there would surely be hell to pay. Yet, he couldn’t stop.

With one last look at the empty, monochrome hallway, he found the handle to your door and slipped soundlessly into your room.

Despite the fact that he had been quiet, you seemed to sense the intrusion. Your eyes snapping open, you pushed your top half up from the pillow, your body tense like you were ready for a fight. You leaned forward and flicked on the bedside lamp.

Your eyes landed on Ghost and he watched as you relaxed again, your sleep-heavy eyes softening as they held his gaze.

“Ghost…” you whispered, clearly as astounded by his presence in your room as he was.

Everything in him screamed that this was a bad idea. That he should go back to his room before he made any more bad decisions. But then you smiled at him, easy and warm and inviting. No bad decision could look like that.

“You okay?” You asked, voice light and laced with sleep. It was concern, though, that sat behind your words. Concern for him, genuine and raw.

Ghost felt something in him crack at that question. Something he knew he wouldn’t come back from.

With two quick strides across your room, he crossed that third line.

In the pale yellow light of the lamp, he pulled the balaclava from his head, letting the cloth fall to the floor. He was already climbing above you in the bed as your eyes snapped wide and you scanned his face for the first time, taking in his features above you. Him. You finally saw him.

Ghost’s breathing picked up as you lifted a hand to his cheek and ran a thumb over his cheek. He had wondered what you would look like if you ever saw him without the mask. Somehow, he had never never expected that you would look at him so tenderly. It seemed wrong that anyone could look at someone as cold and hardened as Ghost like this. But, fuck, it was doing things to him.

When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he slammed his lips into yours. You returned the kiss with a fire that made everything worth it. The blood. The explosions. The secrecy. The sleepless nights.

“Am now,” he mumbled against your lips. He couldn’t say anything else, he could only let the fire he had for you take over and burn everything left in him.

You melted into his affections, immediately grabbing onto his shoulders as he stripped your mouth bare. The little sounds you made spurred him on, making him feel better than he had the entire night. Forget sleep, he could live solely fueled by this.

Then, your hands slid up into his hair, tugging at the mask-flattened strands. A groan fell from Ghost’s lips as he started to fumble for the hem of your shirt, needing you freed from it immediately. He needed to feel you against him, as close as you possibly could be. Needed you wrapped around him in every possible way.

Need. Need. Need. It was a terrifying, unstoppable feeling.

As you both discarded your clothes, your hands desperately searching for skin, Ghost couldn’t help but think of how apt your nickname was. Styx. A mythological river, threatening to pull him under, the waters that he was drowning in also making him damn near invulnerable to all else in the world, save for his one spot of vulnerability. You.

The Styx was believed to be at the edge of the earth and the underworld, you had told him once. Being with you felt kind of like that, he supposed. Like he was at the edge of reality and the mythological. Something he never thought he would have compared to the reality of you underneath him.

Your lips wiped the fucked up worries from his mind, your hands grounding him in the raging current.

You let out a moan as Ghost slipped two fingers into you, trying to get you ready for him as quickly as possible tonight. He clamped a large hand over your mouth as he started to pump his fingers in and out.

“Keep quiet, love,” he purred into your ear, knowing exactly what his low, gravelly voice did to you. Your fingers came to clamp down on his shoulder in your desperation. “We don’t want any interruptions.”

You nodded, your eyes locking with his for a moment before they fluttered closed. He watched you like this, lost in bliss, and tried to commit the image to memory. He would store it away for another cold, lonely night when he couldn’t be here with you, when sleep evaded him.

He so desperately wanted to hear you - to hear the way he could make you scream out his name - but he knew it wasn’t possible right now. Your muffled groans and the way you tipped your head back as he curled his fingers into you would have to suffice.

“So wet for me, love,” he whispered into your ear as he increased his pace, feeling how close you were to the edge as your velvety walls fluttered around him. “Were you thinking about me?”

You jerked your head in a nod, his hand stifling another choked moan from your lips. The sincerity in your movement sent his ego soaring in a way he had never experienced before. Fucking hell, he had never experienced anything like this before. You had a frightening power over him, a grip on his very being that was so deep he didn’t think he could detach it and still survive.

It was terrifying and thrilling and oh-so wonderful.

You shattered under his touch, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you rode out the waves of pleasure he was bringing you. Your hand grasped at his forearm, searching for anything that could steady you.

When you came down and released him from your grip, your eyes fluttered back open. Through your haze, your eyes found his, a want deeper than just lust pouring from your expression. He couldn’t take it anymore. He fucking needed you.

Ghost tore his hand away from your mouth before he crashed his lips to yours again, all heat and fervor. You met him halfway, pushing up to run a hand through his hair. You had done this before in the dark, but it felt even more intense now that you knew what it looked like. What he looked like. You weren’t kissing a faceless man, you were kissing him.

“Simon…” you whined against his lips. “Please.”

Years ago, when you had first met, he wouldn’t have believed that he would ever hear you like this. Usually when you talked, your voice was strong. Unwavering. Fit for a battlefield. To hear you beg for him like this, your words strained, broken, and laced with desire, was something reverent.

He buried his cock in you in one smooth stroke, his lips still on yours. It was still a stretch to fit him, but it was always a stretch. From the very beginning his pace was brutal, his hips slamming into yours over and over. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise so he could hold you in place while he hit the spot deep inside you that always had you breaking for him. He knew he had found it when your legs boxed his hips in and your hips jerked up to meet his thrusts. Your heels rested on his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper into you.

You were squeezing him so tight as he pounded into your sweet cunt that for the first time all night, his head was clear. All that existed was you and the growing heat in his stomach.

Ghost dropped his head down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft, delicate flesh at the base of it as one of his hands released its hold on your hip to find your clit. He knew exactly what to do to send you over the edge again, exactly how hard to press, how tight of circles to draw.

“F-fuck, Simon, I’m g-gonna-” you stuttered out, unable to finish your own sentence. But he knew. He could feel how close you were, the tension drawn tight that was about to snap.

His own rhythm was growing sloppy, the pleasure about to take him under. With a few more calculated thrusts, you came once again, your whole body spasming around him. Your hands clawed at his back as your pussy squeezed him so hard it took him with you. A zap of electricity raced down his spine as he released into you, hot and thick. He fucked it into you, so deep he was sure you would still feel him at breakfast tomorrow morning.

He was so fucked. He had crossed every line and now there was no turning back. There was no stopping this anymore. He needed you. Maybe it was wrong to hope that you needed him just as much, but he did.

Ghost panted against your collar, letting the soft, methodical way you drew circles on his scalp pull him back to reality. Back to you.

He pulled out and rolled over onto the bed, pulling you with him. After taking a few minutes to clean you up, he pulled you to lay on top of him. With his arms around you and the feel of your steady breathing against his chest, sleep finally found him and pulled him under.

[charnelhouse]

Okay so-important question ;; in one of your works there was said that red and ghost started out as fuckbuddies but judging by every interaction between the two, the posessiveness, the need to be with each other; is there a chance that these two lovebirds actually...y'know...love each other? But both are afraid of saying it??

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). This is going off the comics and there is implied sexual assault. I didn't mean to go angsty and yet. Smut, too.

Perhaps, it shouldn’t have been surprising as it was. It wasn’t as if 141 hadn’t seen Red outside of fatigues before, but this was new. The dramatic make-up and the dress shoving her tits to her chin. The platform heels.

She grimaced as she stepped out of her room. A glittering pendant pulled the front of her hair back while the rest tumbled down. The gown was emerald green. Floor length with a tight bodice.

“This is humiliating,” she growled, but she was standing straight as she fixed one of her diamond earrings. The hotel light licked her shoulders. Her lashes fluttered. 

She glided toward them, apparently unphased by the sky-high heels. Truth be told, she looked comfortable, as if she was familiar with this kind of froth and glitz. 

Her eyes slid from Price to Gaz to Soap before resting on Ghost, who hadn’t moved an inch since she’d appeared. 

“Well?” she asked, a furrow in her brow the only hint that she may have been slightly self-conscious.

“Fuckin’ fit!” Gaz praised.

“Uh,” Soap’s gaze ran all over her before his lips tugged into a Cheshire grin. “Gorgeous. Christ, bonnie, did not expect this.”

But the thing was, he did. They all did. They all knew how beautiful she was, but now it was advertised - it was highlighted within an inch of its life. She was a knockout. 

Price cleared his throat as he jerked his head at her once. “Well done.”

She laughed at his awkward formality before her attention focused on Simon again. She stuck her hip out as she crossed her arms over her chest, which only managed to push her tits higher. Price inhaled sharply. 

“Do you like it?”

Ghost stiffly turned toward his captain. “I didn’t approve of this.”

His voice was utterly cool. It was even and steady as if the girl he was regularly fucking hadn’t just walked out looking like a 1940s siren. 

“We didn’t need your permission, Riley,” Price replied. “We ran out of options.”

“I don’t want them touching Red.”

She bristled. “I’m right fucking here, Ghost.”

He tensed before facing her. “I don’t want them to touch you,” he repeated. “Fuckin’ gettin’ their filthy paws on you or -” He scraped a hand over his mask before dropping it. “It’s not right.” He shook his head. “Not for you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she hissed, looking very much like a tiger. Spitting mad in all her finery.

“We’ll be outside,” Price said before grabbing both Soap and Gaz by their tactical vests and pulling them into the hallway. It probably wasn’t right to leave. This was a mission, and one Red had agreed to, but he also knew Simon needed to exorcise whatever fears he had for the sake of the task.

Red stepped closer, placing her hand on his bicep. When he didn’t pull away, she claimed another inch before pressing her chest to his and wrapping her arms around his waist. She tucked her head under his chin, and Simon’s enormous hands automatically came up to cradle the back of her skull. He squeezed her tighter as his fingers scraped across the jeweled brooch.

“I’ll be alright,” she murmured. “I won’t let them try anything.” She lifted her face, and his thumb slipped across her cheek. “I only want you.”

He grunted.

“You know it’s not about that for me." His thumb dragged across her jaw to rest on her lower lip. “I’m not jealous, but the idea...the possibility of them assaulting you and -” He trailed off, and suddenly she understood. 

Roba. That previous capture had broken him so terribly it had scorched his identity. He was never the same and there were still nights where he woke up in a cold sweat, fisting his sheets as he struggled to swallow air. She could feel pressure behind her nose and tears in her eyes, and she bit the inside of her mouth to stop them. 

She lifted herself onto her toes, grasping his mask between her hands. “You’ll be watching me,” she reminded him. “The whole time. I know I’m safe with you.”

A beat of silence before he finally nodded. “Alright, duchess.”

She knew this was always how it was going to play out. He wouldn’t stop her, but he’d want to voice his fears so that he was free of them. He wanted her assurance. If I have you, I’ll be safe. I’ll be perfect. 

They watched each other, and as they did, the air changed. It pulsed. The tension between them tightened into an impossible knot. His gloved hand ran down her back before grasping her ass. “You do look beautiful,” he murmured. “Felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

He was hard against her thigh, and she rubbed herself into him. “We have time.”

“We don’t.”

“We could.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark and demanding, before he growled and clutched her to him. He walked her back against the bureau, her head falling against the ornate mirror. He tried getting her legs around his waist, but the skirt of her fancy dress was too tight. 

“Fuck…fuck…”

She laughed before turning around, palms slapping down on the hardwood. She stared at herself in the mirror, nose practically brushing against the glass as he loomed like a behemoth behind her. It was a sight. Simon with his skull mask, bulky tactical gear, and weapons. Red in silk and diamonds, and her hair falling in curls and waves like a China doll. He gingerly lifted her dress before kicking her feet apart. She could feel his gloved finger stroke the plump, wet flesh of her cunt before he eased it inside. Her breathing hitched, and he sunk it to the knuckle. 

“That’s a girl,” he husked.

“More,” she demanded. “Give me your cock.”

It was so crude, spilling from her painted mouth. Red was rarely direct. Everything was an innuendo with her until he'd be forced to shove her against a wall or over a bar top. Coquettish. Suggestive.

Well - I'm a lady, Simon.

You weren't being a lady last night when you asked me to stick my cock in your -

"Please," she whined, arching her spine and shoving her ass against him.

He clucked his tongue. “So needy.”

But he did it. He’d do anything she asked. 

"I want to feel you when I'm walking around in there," she begged. "I want to hurt."

He froze before a deep, gritty noise sounded from his chest that he'd never made before. Christ. He popped the button on his pants before pulling himself free. There was no room for preparation. No time at all. Red braced herself as he took her in one hard stroke. It snatched her breath, the thick of him stretching her in two pieces. There was pressure in her lower half, absolute fullness. As he began to fuck her in earnest, it felt as if he was striking the back of her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was in her skull - throbbing and pulsing as her cunt twitched and flexed around him. 

He said nothing. A few rumbles. A grunt. A groan. The echo of his belt knocking against the wood of the bureau. The wet suck of her pussy taking him to the hilt over and over again. Skin against skin. She tried to muffle her whimpers, but it was a losing game.

He was too enormous. He could break her if he wanted to. There was always the possibility that she might tear, bruise, or swell, but Simon handled her like one of his weapons. Reverance. 

He slammed into her fast and hard, every snap of his cock punching against her cervix, her walls bearing down as they clung to his length like creeping ivy. Whenever he fucked her, he felt like her body threatened to absorb him completely. She was searing hot, burning like a fever, and her pussy wound around his dick with such violence that he thought he’d never get it back. He didn’t want it. He only wanted her - needed her. If he could live in her, he would.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered as his pelvis stuttered against her ass. His cock spat inside her, the warm thick spend lashing into her womb. When he eased himself out, he left a trail of it. It ran down her thigh, oozing and drooling, and he used his fingers to plug it back in. “You keep me inside of you like that, duchess, and I’ll eat that cunt for hours the second you’re back.”

She shivered, nodding once at him in the mirror. Yes. Yes. Always. Anything for you.

Abruptly, Ghost rucked his mask above his nose, and she could see his beauty: the rugged jawline, the stubble, and the full, sensual mouth. There was a pink flush to his skin due to the vigorous lovemaking. He flashed white and blinding teeth before ducking his head and kissing her cheek. His gloved fingers - shiny with both of their climax - gripped her chin, turning her face so he could capture her lips in a hard, almost ugly kiss. 

“I’ll be watching,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He pulled away, dragging his mask back down. She thought she heard him say something else. Short. Only a few words. But when she turned to look at him, he was already heading for the door. 

[1wh4re1]

Rivers and Roads

--------

Well, here we are, friends! I’m actually writing it here is the first chapter in my Ghoap x F!Reader fic. I know this is short but I do hope y’all enjoy it. If you would like to be added to or taken off of the tag list let me know! I appreciate all of the interest and will hopefully be coming out with regular updates! 

--------

Chapter 1: After the End 

Six tests. All positive.

You’re sitting on the toilet in your hotel room just trying to breathe. You’re pregnant. You suppose you have no one to blame but yourself. It’s not like you three used protection all of the time, assuming your birth control would be enough.

It's eleven weeks after Johnny's passing and the morning of day six of your two-week leave. You had been feeling sick the past several days, brushing it off as a bug you caught during travel. You managed to put it all together when, of all things, a tampon fell out of your purse. You realized that you missed your last cycle but with everything going on with Makarov you never caught on.

Your immediate thoughts turn to Simon. You have to tell Simon. Oh god, you have to tell Price too. He’ll want to pull you out of the field. Desk duty has never been a favorite of yours. You groan and put your head in your hands, you guess you're cutting your leave short.

Trashing the tests, you call the front desk while you browse airlines and hope you can get a refund on your room for the remaining days. 

------

The twelve-hour flight to London does nothing to soothe your nerves. In fact, the closer you get to base the worse your anxiety becomes. You aren't sure how you will break the news to Simon. You aren't even sure how he'll react given the current circumstances. He's been tracking Makarov, often working days at a time and leaving for short solo recon missions.

When you arrive you head straight to his office, hauling your duffle bag with you. You knock and wait for his gruff "enter". When you do open the door, you immediately notice the scattered papers and multitude of files on his desk, so unlike the organized man you know. The bags beneath his eyes are dark, accentuated by the plain facemask he wears.

You set your bag down at the door letting it softly click shut behind you and head around his desk, sitting on the edge adjacent to him.

You sigh, "Hi love...when was the last time you slept?"

"Doesn't matter," he grunts, he doesn't even bother looking up from the report he’s reading.

"You have to take care of yourself. Why don't you come to rest for a bit? I'm tired from my flight and we could both use a nap."

"No."

You blink at his harsh tone. You feel your frustration bubble beneath the surface. "Simon. You need to realize your limits right now. It's important for-"

The loud scrape of his chair across the linoleum interrupts the rest of your sentence. He turns to you for the first time since you've entered and your eyes widen at how angry he looks with you.

"What I'm working on is important. You need to grasp that concept or leave so I can get back to work."

You push off your desk and stand toe to toe with him. You've never been one to back down and your anger is now fully on the surface. "I understand it's important," you hiss. "How could you think I don't? You weren't the only one who lost him. He wouldn't want this." You deflate a little and in a softer tone, you ask. "We still have us, Simon. You won’t fight for us too?"

"The best things about us died with Johnny and you know it. You don't matter! We don't matter!” He hunches in on himself a bit before he mutedly says “The only thing that matters is finding Makarov."

His words pour over you like acid and you flinch, tears stinging the backs of your eyes. He never raises his voice at you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "I love you, Simon, I do, but I can't watch you do this to yourself. If this is it, if this relationship is not worth fighting for, then this is over." You meet his eyes, waiting for him to say something. When he does nothing but stare back at you, you nod and turn away. Snatching up your duffle bag you head out of the room and slam it behind you without looking back.

There are other people in the hallway who stare as you pass, having heard your little drama. You keep your head high despite the redness in your eyes and face, avoiding their gazes as you make your way to your old quarters. You don't think you can stand being in your shared room surrounded by all the things you have lost. 

-----

Tag list: @thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99 @http-paprika

[hypercodation]

Cpt. John Price x M!Reader

“I love you”

CW: none, fluff!!!

A/N: sorry for not posting, been kinda depressed recently… imma stick to writing fluff for a bit 👍

It started with a winding down after a mission, you and the boys all rented different hotel rooms after a mission. Almost everyone has their own room… except you and Price. Your relationship wasn’t really kept secret from the task force, but wasn’t exactly out in the open.

You plop down on the couch and beckon Price over, and pull him into your lap. This position is usually switched, but you have a little plan.

“….. It still surprises me how easy you can toss me around.” He mutters, trying his darn best to not put his whole weight on you.

“Don’t mention it. It’s what I’m trained for.” You say with a laugh.

You grab the edge of his shirt and pull. “Can you take this off?”

“Why’s that?”

“Cuz…. I wanna give you a massage.”

“How sweet. But I feel like you just wanna see my bare chest.”

“That. Annddd I wanna give you a massage. You deserve to relax, John.” You say looking up at his blue eyes, he sighs and pulls his shirt up over his head.

“Good boy.” He huffs playfully at your words.

You slowly, firmly press your warm hands into his back and he lets out a huff of air. You continue, up to his shoulders. Firm rubs and pushes…

He seemed to be holding back a bit… stifling his borderline embarrassing noises.

“Relax John… no judgment here.” You say softly, rubbing your hands over the scrapes and scars on his back…. The muscles, his… almost scarily smooth skin.

After you destress a particularly rough knot he groans, his head tilted back. You smirk. “Liked that one huh?”

His cheeks flushed at the realization and he glared down at you… “I said I’m not judging…. I promise.” You move down and continue, and he lets out a huff. “Thank you…”

You lean down to kiss his shoulders… the scars…. Dark spots.. freckles… taking him in. “You're so pretty…” you say, just loud enough he could hear. This catches him off guard….

“Pretty..?”

You nod into his neck. “Like flowers…. The stars…. The moon.”

“I’ve…. Never been described like that before…” he says, leaning back into your touch.

“Well… that’s how I see you.” You lean up and kiss his cheek, continuing to massage him.

“John, you can put your full weight on me… you're not gonna crush me.” He sighs.

“Y/N-“

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me.” You basically force him to put his full weight down.

“Chillax.”

“Chillax…?” He says, royally confused. It’s a word he’s heard Gaz use a few times. Is it even a word???

“Yeah- chill and relax.”

“I’m not sure if that’s even a word…” he says looking back at you.

You huff. “Shut up and let me love you.”

Price sighs, and smiles. “You can love me as much as you want to love…” you smile in content and hum into his neck, holding him ever so closer…you trail small kisses from the back of his neck to the sides and over again, earning a chuckle from price…

“I love you more than you know.”

“And I love you more than the stars and moon.”

[jessicaseroticramblings]

When I worked on the reception desk at a hotel I had men flirting with me all the time. It was usually men who were travelling alone on business trips that hit on me the most, probably taking advantage of being away while their wives were at home. There was this particular man who would bring me flowers whenever he checked in. I knew he was married but I always flirted back as I enjoyed getting attention from all the horny married men that stayed at the hotel. One day this man showed up to check in to his room and as usual he had bought me a bunch of roses, but this time there was a card with them that had an interesting proposition written on it. 

’$1000 to blow me tonight?’ 

I slipped the card into my pocket before anyone else saw it then continued with my day. When my shift was over I called my boyfriend to tell him I would be home a little late then headed to the staff room to change into something a little more comfortable. Then I used the elevator to reach the penthouse suite. I knocked on the door and waited. He opened the door wearing only a bath robe and invited me inside. 

“I knew you would like my offer. Something about you told me you would be my naughty girl for the right price,” he said as he closed the door behind me. 

“Where is the money?” I said as I smiled at him. He pointed to an envelope on the desk. I picked it up and checked inside. There were ten new crisp $100 bills as promised. I put the cash back down onto the desk then turned back to him. 

“Get down on your knees for me Jessica. It’s time to earn your money.” 

“Yes Sir,” I replied and dropped to my knees in front of him. He looked down at me as he opened up his robe and slipped it off, leaving me staring at his very hard cock. 

“Do you like my cock Jessica? Are you going to suck me until I fill your mouth with cum?” 

“Yes Sir,” I said as I slid my fingers around his cock. I slowly caressed his length as I stared up at him. He moaned as he felt my fingers slide along his incredibly hard cock. 

“Suck my cock Jessica,” he groaned as I licked the head before closing my lips around him. Looking up at him as I caressed the head of his cock with my tongue, then taking his shaft deeper into my mouth. He groaned as he watched my hand start to stroke him as my head bobbed back and forth in rhythm with my hand motions. “I knew you would be an amazing little cocksucker as soon as I saw you. Work my cock Jessica. Don’t make me cum too quickly though. You need to earn your money,” he said as he stood over me. I was already tasting a little precum so I slowed down a little, slipping my mouth from his cock while I continued caressing his now slick shaft. 

“I want to be a good girl for you Sir. I want to give you so much pleasure with my mouth,” I said softly as I ran a fingertip around his swollen cock head. His cock twitched and another drop of precum leaked from the tip. Looking up into his eyes as I slowly licked the precum from his cock enjoying the groan that escaped his lips. Then I took him back into my mouth, this time keeping my hands on my thighs, sliding my lips along his cock as I sucked him deeper. I slowly slid my hands up his legs until I was caressing his balls in my hand. 

“Oh god yes! Good girl not forgetting my balls. Mmmmm, squeeze them while you blow me,” he groaned. I gently squeezed them between my fingers as I took his cock deep and held still with the head in my throat. “So much cum in my balls and it’s all for you Jessica.” 

I pulled my head back until his cock slipped from my mouth leaving a trail of spit stretching from his cock head to my lips. Grabbing his shaft and stroking him while I dipped my head to take one of his balls into my mouth. He moaned as I sucked on his balls while I stroked his length a little harder. 

“Holy fuck you hot little slut. That’s it suck my balls. Show me you deserve all the cum trapped inside them,” he groaned as I teasingly but gently scraped my teeth over his swollen ball sack. Nibbling and sucking as his cock seemed to get even harder in my hand. I licked up from his balls back up to his cock, taking him back into my hungry little mouth. Stroking and sucking him as my hand slid back and forth, looking up into his lust filled eyes. “I need to cum. Oh Christ I need to cum in your mouth you little cocksucker.” 

I continued using my hand and mouth to pleasure him knowing I was going to be swallowing his seed within moments. His cock leaking precum more and more. His breathing was becoming ragged and his cock suddenly twitched and sent the first jet of sticky cum splashing into my mouth. I tasted cum as I kept stroking and sucking cock. He gasped as another jet of cum erupted from the tip as I pumped his shaft in my hand. Milking the cum from his balls as I could feel my mouth filling with his seed. It took him a while to stop cumming but when he pulled from my mouth I opened my lips wide to show him my mouth full of cum. He watched as I swallowed his cum down my throat in one big gulp. I stood up and he took my hand and kissed it. 

“Thank you princess. Enjoy spending your reward and just know that there is much more money available to you every time I’m in town. You are worth every penny,” he said as he pulled his robe back on and handed me the envelope full of money. I thanked him and left his room, my head full of ideas on what to spend $1000 bucks on 💋

[soapyghost]

Sparks

Firefighter Price x Fem! Reader

I honest to god did not expect this to get the love it did?? So thank you??? I’m blown away. Also this chapters kindaaa short- and its the epitome of slow burn and I am not sorry. It will get more- angsty soon ehehe. Also I did my best to try and remember everyone who wanted to be added to the tag list and I am so sorry if I forgot anyone! Let me know if you want/ed to be added!

Warnings: hinting at a super gross manager being gross - Mostly fluff. Swearing. Character developments babyyyy

Taglist: @330bpm-whiplash @blueoorchid @deadbranch @sofasoap @c0wb0yenthusiast @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @fruitymoonbeams-blog @averyyreads @lostmypopsicle @jxvipike @moonlighting87 @amatis-gray

A week had passed since the fire in your apartment complex. It had taken a couple days before you were able to go back to your apartment to search for any belongings that may have survived. Luckily your phone somehow managed to survive the inferno, lord knows you didn’t have the money to replace it.

After about 2 days of staying at the hotel, your best friend April was generous enough to let you stay on her couch until you could get enough money scraped together for a deposit on a new place. As nice as the hotel was, you felt terrible about the possibility of racking up a bill for Price. No matter how much you begged the receptionist she would not let you pay a dime for the room, stating that John had given her strict rules to not let you.

The images you managed to squirrel away in your mind of the egnima known as John Price would not stay hidden back there. You weren’t ready for a relationship- not after your ex. And yet, you still woke up every morning in his jacket, the smell of him was vaguely noticeable underneath the overpower scent of smoke.

You had just moved out of your ex boyfriends house and into your apartment, on the opposite side of the state. Well, your ex apartment now. The idea of having to start all over brought tears to your eyes. You had been here less than a month and already things were turning into a shit show.

Today was your first day back at work after the fire, your new manager, Sheppard or Shep for short, was surprisingly kind about the situation. He completely understood and let you take some time off to get your things together. You didn’t understand why the other waitstaff disliked him so much. They always whispered about how cruel, rude and dirty Shep was.

As you rushed into the restaraunt to start your first shift back you were taken aback to see none other than John Price and the entire crew. As you made your way passed his table your eyes locked- and that perfect smile crept upon his face. His smile felt like rays of sunshine. Like a breeze on a summer day.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N” Price bellows, drawing the attention of the whole restaraunt to you. Soap looked at you and waved, “glad to see you alive lass!” You smiled weakly back at him before glancing over to the paramedic who wrapped your hand. “Hows that hand looking” he asked, nodding at your right hand which was now bandage free.

“It’s much better. Thanks” you say, holding it up breifly. You’re positive your face is about as red as the tomatoes on the omelet Soap had infront of him. Your blood runs a cold as your eyes glance over the party and see the man in the balaclava- except this time it has a skull on it.

Who the hell wears that out in public! A shiver runs through you and Price seems to notice. “So Y/N what brings you here” he says, taking your attention away from his terrifying counterpart. “Oh uhm well. I work here” you reply, ”and if I don’t get back to clock in I might not have one much longer. But I’ll be back out!” “Good. Because you haven’t been properly introduced to the 141 house” he beams, gesturing at the men at the table with him.

With that you slip through the kitchen door and back towards the lockers. You press your forehead onto them to help cool your face down so maybe it won’t give away your embarassment. Why is he here? Does he know you still have his jacket? Oh fuck.

“You alright Y/N?” Sheps voice booms, pulling you from your daze. He drops a hand on your shoulder and looks down at you with concern in his eyes. “Yeah yeah. Sorry. I just.” You sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. Did you really want to trauma dump on your boss? His hand raises to cup your cheek, causing you to flinch.

“That crew was the one who saved me from the fire” you say, turning your face away from his hand. Something flickers in his eyes, just for a second, anger? Jealousy? Rage? You’re not sure what it is but before you can place it his eyes change back to concern. “Oh. Well. What a coincidence!” He forces a chuckle and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you out on the floor in 5” he states, before turning curtly and walking out.

You blink a bit, startled by his sudden change, the rumors about him being a piece of shit seemed a lot more plausible now. Shaking your head, you open your locker and stuff your purse in it before throwing up your hair into a ponytail and heading back out to the front.

Lucky for you, the 141 were not in your section today. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances over at their table in between taking care of your own guests. When you had finally taken care of your section, you decided to venture over to be introduced to the whole “squad”.

“Hey yall didn’t have to wait for me guys” you say, noticing the empty plates.

You sauntered over, catching the Captians eye before flashing a small smile, “sorry for making you wait boys” you say, noticing they had long since finished their breakfast. “Oh luv’, you ain’t gotta apologize to these muppets” Price replies, his accent thick. “Hey who you callin’ a muppet, Cap?” Gaz questions, his eyebrows furrowed in mock anger.

Price laughs and you swear that must be what heaven sounds like. “But I wanted to introduce you to everyone. That as you already know, is Gaz. Best paramedic this side o’ the town” he says, voice full of pride. “That shaggy man is Soap. Don’t ask” he quips, before you could even open your mouth. “Strange name for a strange guy” you giggle. Soap brings his hand up to his chest feigning pain, Price let’s put a small chuckle at that. “Those two are Alejandro and Rudy. They keep us well fed at the house and are pretty decent at their jobs” John says, gesturing to the two men at the other side of the table from him. Both men wave and flash you big smiles. “And this,” he says, gesturing to the terrifying man in the skull balaclava, “this is Ghost.”

Ghost simply grunts, “can we go now captian. We have shit to do” and begins to stand. “Ghost. You need to learn to relax once ‘n a while.” Price reprimands him. Before you have a chance to say anything or greet the team, Sheppard voice booms, “Y/N what are you doing? Get back to your section”. You whip your head around to see the face of your extremely angry boss.

“Shep, cut her some slack eh?” Price retorts, his face contorting into anger. What happened between the two of them? “No no he’s right” you smile weakly, trying to alleviate the obvious tension in the room. “Go Y/N” Shep says, before coming up behind you and putting his hand on your lower back and pivoting you away from the table.

“Sheppard. You don’t need to move her” Johns voice rises slightly, “she was going”. The temperature in the room was rising. “Boys it’s fine. Really. I’ll see you around yeah?” You say, voice quaking. “Of course luv” Prices says, relaxing slightly, “Cmon boys. We have shit to do back at the house.”

At this, the 141 house gathers their stuff and begins heading towards the door. Price and Sheppard exchange a death stare from across the room, causing goosebumps to form all over you. Now you had to know what happened between them.

You smile, feeling your heart slam in your chest at the thought of them leaving. Would you ever see them again? This is stupid. Just because John Price saved you from a burning building doesn’t mean he wants anything else to do with you. It’s his job. Just like it’s your job to serve them food. “Alright boys, you have a good rest of your day alright?” You say sweetly. Desperately trying to cover up how nervous you are.

The boys all give you a wave goodbye as they head out the door. John flashing you a smile before saying “it was good to see ya again, Y/N”. Now your heart feels like it’s about to smash through your ribs, he’s glad? To see you? You nearly melt as you whisper “you too John”. His eyes crinkle as his smile widens ever so slightly before heading out the door.

Seeing the boys climb into the fire truck and head out of the parking lot you felt a bit giddy. It wouldn't be the last you would see of John Price, if he knew your manager it had to mean he frequented your restaurant. A small smile crept on your face at the thought, but it was quickly wiped away by the shouting of Sheppard telling you to stop standing around.

You return to their table to help your coworker clean it up when you see it. Written on the back of the receipt in probably the worst handwriting you’ve ever seen, was a phone number and a simple message:

"Incase you ever want to return that jacket- John Price"

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 12)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - threats, mentions of violence, swearing, morally gray decision making, smoking

Summary: Rory and Price get their chance to interrogate Zorokov

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

October 21, 2017 07:36 - Safehouse

The awkward tension between them was thick. Murky and deep. A confused jumble of emotions that neither had made a concerted effort of facing. Rory decided to fall back on her old trick of sweeping it all under the rug, ignoring the uncomfortable gnawing inside by turning her attention to her mission. Focusing on what she could control, burying herself neck deep in what she had power over rather than feeling like she was stuck in a current leading her astray. While Price, on the other hand, seemed to remain set on the idea of keeping her under his protection. Unwavering and absolute as he was with all decisions he made. He knew what was best, even if she wasn’t willing to recognize that for herself – yet . The elephant in the room had only doubled in size, each having spilled their guts as best they could at the other's feet. Painfully aware of where they each stood on the issue. A brief hiatus put on the debate as they tried to go about their day as normal, despite being trapped in a hotel room together. 

While the sound of shower water battered the stall in the bathroom, Rory did her best to maintain professional distance in the bedroom. Cleaning her weapon while sitting on her double bed, meticulous as she slid each section of the gun apart and swabbed and wiped it down. The cigarette dangled from the corner of her lip, smoke trailing along the side of her face as a section of dark hair hung in front of her eyes, her gun oil stained fingertips drifting through the strands to brush it back behind her ear. Tapping her cigarette into the ashtray sat beside her on the bed, her fingers shook, the hand they belonged to absentmindedly drifting to her neck, rubbing at the tender bruising that circled it – covering them with makeup, burying them below the collar of her sweater – she did everything possible not to look at the discolored patches of skin where the blood had bloomed under the surface. 

It was all still too raw, too real. 

Her thoughts went to dark places as the constant stream of shower water helped provide the white noise to slip into a state of near hypnosis. She knew she was still in the safehouse even as the burning sensation of cold marble crept over her back, the smell of leather furniture filling her nostrils and then the bleach…Her nails dug at her chest, feeling her breath catch in her throat. She had always wondered how long she could hold her breath for – it was certainly never one of her strengths before, especially not as a smoker – but she supposed she had received her answer: Two minutes . Two excruciating, long minutes. 

Deep in her work and in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed her mobile had begun vibrating on the nightstand, having returned to dragging the wiry cleaning brush through the barrel of her pistol, pulling it back and forth, scraping out the old flakes of debris that had accumulated. She wasn’t aware the shower water had stopped either. Deaf to the world around her, numb to it, as if it had become entirely dull and grayed out just like it had been that morning. Lackluster, just like she felt. 

The loud buzzing of her phone finally grabbed her attention as her eyes rose to meet the bathroom door opening. Price entered the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist, hair lying flat and damp, the freckles and body hair of his torso on show as his hard muscle flexed under the soft flesh that covered it, feet padding in full strides across the carpet. She still hadn’t entirely left the confines of her head even as their gaze locked, his piercing stare narrowing beneath his furrowed brow the longer he looked at her. Saying nothing, he glanced over at her phone on the table, and then back at her. His jaw flexed, a little tic slipping through the cracks of the stoic soldier’s wall. There was no heat to the look he gave her, more a survey of her reactions, realizing something wasn’t adding up. 

Rory quickly gave him a sheepish grin, pretending she was perfectly alright despite knowing he had already read her like a book. Putting her tools down and grabbing her cigarette, she placed it back to her lips. No longer stuck in the act of repetition, broken free of the cycle, the spiral pulled taut once more. Reaching behind her and collecting the still ringing phone from the table, the call display informed her it was Andrew. She placed the phone on the bed and returned to cleaning her gun. “Andy, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh, thank Christ. It’s a miracle hearing your voice, Sinclair. Do you know how bloody worried I've been?”

She rubbed at her brow, her finger gently trailing over the scabbed over gash that cut through it. “Enough to not call until now?”

Price gave a low chuckle on the other side of the room, a smirk pulling at his lips as he cinched the waist of his pants together to button it. She gave him a sideways look, taking a drag from her cigarette and a brief moment to appreciate the captain’s form. He shook his head, rubbing the towel through his hair to dry it, leaving his short hair haphazard before he’d return the beanie to its place on top of his head.

“Oi, be nice. I come bearing news.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Smoke streamed past her lips as she spoke, starting to slot her gun back together. 

The smile in Andrew’s voice faded as he continued, "Thought  you should know, Zorokov’s lucid. Have him under guard detail at HSCT Centre hospital. I know it's no interrogation room, but if you want to get your answers, now’s the time to do it.”

Heart rate increasing, a cold sweat made Rory’s hands instantly clammy. She knew she would have to face him down eventually, look him in those cold, dark eyes once again, but there was no denying it was likely too soon. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to steel herself as she took another long drag of her cigarette.

“What room?” Price’s low, gravelly voice near her ear caused her to open her eyes and find his hand coming to press to the back of her neck, squeezing it softly. She wasn’t alone. He wasn’t going to leave her alone. 

-----

October 21, 2017 – HSCT Centre Hospital, Moscow

“I thought Laswell didn't want us starting a war?” Rory muttered as the heavy metal lift doors opened and she followed Price through the halls of the hospital, carrying their weapon for the negotiation – the laptop – under her arm. Boots thumped against the waxed linoleum floors as she kept pace with the Captain throughout the medical facility, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat as they passed by nurses and doctors, trying to appear as though they were merely any other set of visitors. 

“We won't,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, his gaze kept forward. Focused . “Leave it to me.”

“John -”

The rasping sigh he tried to let slip past did not go undetected and when he finally bothered to look at her, she could see the quick little curl of his top lip into a sneer. “Your mate got us the in. No point lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth, yeah?”

She pushed her fists deeper into the pockets of her coat, twisting the bits of fluff in between her fingertips, kneading them into miniature stress balls. “So we march in there and do what exactly? Are we actually questioning him, getting answers that we need , or is this just an excuse for you to make him suffer like you wanted to last night?”

“Gonna give ‘im a reason to talk.”

“And what's that supposed to mean, eh?”

With John Price that could be left entirely open to interpretation. From what she had gleaned in their conversations and the things he had done already, he had a moral code, but it was a loose one. One that bent and bowed with whatever came his way, whatever got him to the endgame the fastest with the least amount of resistance. He had been a soldier for longer than her, moved further up through the ranks, had more lives under his command, leading them deeper into the machine that ground up and spat most of them back out just as broken as she was, if not more so. He was drenched in the military’s wanton use of ‘the ends justifying the means'. There was no telling where the cut off was for what he was willing to do, how far he would go.  She knew that. She also knew it wasn’t a way of life most could thrive in, but he had, allowing himself to be morphed by it. It made him dangerous; it made him a threat – it made her happy he was an ally and not someone to face down herself. 

Turning to look at her once more, his slight smirk spread over his features. “It means Laswell’s helping us hit ’im where it hurts.”

Lifting her brow, she realized what he was implying. “We’re going for the jugular?”

He gave her a curt nod and continued forward. “He’s a sittin’ duck and we aren’t wastin’ this opportunity. Not when he's right there. Not after what he did. He’s going nowhere.” He paused and glanced over at her once more. “I told you, you gave us our in.”

Even if she had to bite his face off to do it. 

“Right. Well then…” she shrugged her shoulders and softly sighed. “Let's get this show on the road, eh?”

“Sure you’ll be alright goin’ in there?” The scowl reappeared on his face. Giving her the out once again. He seemed to want to give her every excuse available to turn tail and run or hide.  “I can do it on my own.”

Grabbing his arm and stopping him in his tracks, her fingers delved into the thick material of his coat, eyes boring into him, reminding him just how deadly serious she was. “I want to see what I did to him… I need to see the state I left him in.”

Tipping his head to the side, he looked at her with a cocked brow. “You’re a tough little bird, aren’t you, my girl?”

Rolling her eyes, she let go of his arm. “Christ almighty, would you stop calling me that.”

“What?”

“ Your girl.”

Price smirked as she started walking away quickly with her agitation. “Wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t at least partially agree with it, darlin’.”

Rory scoffed and looked over her shoulder back at him. “I swear to god, you just might be one of the most arrogant bastards I’ve ever met.” 

His lips downturned as she said it, tilting his head from side to side, cocking his brow, seemingly debating this fact in his head. 

“Oh, piss off.” She couldn’t help but laugh now, her footsteps slowing as she turned around to face him. “You don’t get to act like this is the first time you’ve ever heard that.”

“What if it is?” His eyes twinkled with just a hint of mischief as he looked at her. Bright and blue under the harsh fluorescent lights and darkened by his brow. 

Taking a short step forward, she gazed up at him, neck craning. “Shame on everyone else who was too scared to say it then.”

Chuckling quietly, his eyes narrowed at her. “You know why, right?”

What would be a motion that would normally put most on edge, an intimidation technique she had seen Price use several times already – his patented death glare – had little effect on her. “Because you’re the big, scary SAS captain that strikes the fear of God into people. I’m well aware, John,” she said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling.

He closed the distance between them, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned forward. “And yet here you are calling me out on it, no fear at all.”

What reason did she have to be scared? Sure he was abrasive, stern, ready to tear someone a new arsehole when needed – but he was still just a man. Willing to make the hard decisions others couldn’t at a moment’s notice, but a man, nonetheless. A man who had already clearly made his intentions known about wanting to keep her safe. Surely she could talk back a little, get a rise out of the highly decorated captain, a man well respected for his accomplishments, carrying the weight of the world and the immensity of his actions on his shoulders. In her eyes, he was more than what the military expected of him even if that was all he wanted to regard himself as. He wasn’t just the ruthless soldier he insisted on portraying. He might have been dangerous, but she had already won him over. 

“Because I still remember you as the clean-shaven Lieutenant.”

Looking down at her through his brow, his head lowered towards her. “Haven’t been him in a long time, darlin’,” he rasped.

“Did he get left behind in the stall of that loo with me?” Rory teased, her smile shifting into an incredibly self-assured smirk.

Price sighed, a little growl slipping from him with frustration.

Patting his forearm, the grin faded from her face and she returned to her professional form, readjusting the laptop under her arm. “Let’s get back to the mission, shall we?” 

------

Reaching the door to the room Zorokov was being kept in to recuperate, they were met by the guard detail organized by MI6 – definitely not police with the way they were dressed, and the assault rifles they carried, afforded the privilege of appearing frightening as hell. With the quick nod of heads, the door was opened, and Price and Rory were granted access to the room where their slumbering target awaited them.  

With the lights dimmed in the room, they moved forward, not caring one way or the other if they woke him up in the process. The thin, pale blue curtain that circled the hospital bed rustled slightly, a breeze shifting the material as the two soldiers passed by it, their shadows sweeping across with what little light there was. Price was quick to grab the two edges of the material in his fists and toss the sections open, damn near tearing the curtains right off the rings that held them. As they parted, splitting open with force, the soldiers came face to face with the Russian, now cuffed to the hospital bed, his lip sewn back together with thick black sutures, face bruised and swollen, mouth stuffed with cotton, hooked up to an IV drip for pain management. 

Rory bit down on the inside of her cheek, she hated just how lightly he seemed to come out of their struggle. Grimacing at the cold hard truth that a marred face was nothing that money couldn’t fix with plastic surgeries. Free from pain, able to sleep as though nothing at all had happened. She wished she’d left more of an indelible mark against him. Taken an eye, cut out his tongue, something to truly remember her by. 

Price couldn’t help the lopsided grin that twisted cruelly at his mouth, his hands pressed to either side of Zorokov’s feet at the end of the bed, hunching over like a guard dog ready to attack, head lowered to stare at the man in a predatory fashion. “Well, take a look at you, sunshine.” The vehement, venomous hate he held for the oligarch – for what he had done – burned behind his eyes as he maintained the cool, calm, collected demeanor of the military captain. 

Heavy eyes surrounded in puce fluttered open and locked on the mutton chopped man, widening at the sight of Rory standing in the corner, showing no sign of cowering in fear of the man who had attacked her only hours ago and in much better shape than he was. 

Stare darkening further, Price barked a command in the husky tone of a man who was used to shouting out orders on a battlefield, “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Zorokov flinched, shifting carefully in his bed. His normally well-coiffed blonde hair left greasy and unkempt. There was no fancy suit to protect him now, no air of dignity or power. He was left strung up like bait for the wolves at the door, and they were prowling. He did as he was told, his attention maintained on the brusque man at the foot of his bed. 

“You know why we’re here. So let’s not play any games, yeah?”

“What are you going to do, Captain Price ?” He emphasized the name in an attempt to regain some power, reminding the two soldiers that this wasn’t one sided, he knew them as well. “Threaten my life?” He nodded his head in Rory’s direction. “Sic your wild dog on me?”

The cold, threatening tone of the captain barely covered the growl that threatened to slip from him. “Oh, I think she had every right to do what she did to you.”

“She ripped off my fucking lip,” the Russian yelled as he shot forward, manic with fury. The IV stand nearly tipping over with the flailing movement of his arm.

“And you tried to kill her!” Price thrusted his pointed finger at Zorokov before moving around the hospital bed with a snarl, grabbing the IV tubing that connected to the Russian’s arm and tore it from the bag. “You deserved everythin’ you got and more.”

“Captain –” 

Her calm voice cut through the chaos. His hand tensed into a fist at his side. The constant stream of liquid dripping onto the floor causing everyone’s teeth in the room to grind. 

“Sir, isn’t there someone else who’s meant to be part of this conversation?”

He shifted his jaw just enough to expose his annoyance, and then flexed his shoulders, letting the broad stretch of them sit tight. Anger flared in his eyes as he tried to remain controlled, staring down at the man who he had wanted to tear asunder. 

“Price…” Rory held out the laptop towards him, trying to reel him back in. 

Glancing over his shoulder with a swallowed sigh, his nose scrunching along with a grimace as if he was swallowing back bile, he took the computer from her and continued his interrogation of the Russian. “Went to a lot of trouble to get this. Did a lot of diggin’ in your dirt. All the shit you’ve been buryin’, tryin’ to hide. But we’ve had our eyes on you for a while. Now it’s all paid off,” Price muttered, seething just being in the company of the Russian. 

“You can’t do anything to me. I’m protected.”

“You might have a lot of powerful friends. So do I. And they’ve all been looking for ways to gut you like a bloody fish.”

“Do what you will, Captain.” The Russian exuded smugness as he leaned back against his pillows, adjusting them as he settled. “I won’t see prison. I won’t be punished. There are too many hands involved and none of them want to get dirty.”

“But you’re happy to, aren’t you?” Price leaned in, gripping the side rail of the hospital bed with white knuckles.

“I’m merely a middleman. Connecting people to things they need. I’m not the villain here.”

“Oh, I think you are.” Price’s eyes narrowed, the crow’s feet by his eyes crinkling without any of the mirth that came with one of his trademark smirks. “You’re certainly not above violence, eh?”

“She seems just fine to me.” Zorokov hummed, his dark eyes landing on Rory, taking in the cuts on her face he’d left behind.

“What did I say?” Price rasped, his tone a clear threat as he gritted his teeth.

His glare returned to the captain. “So what? You have info on my business ventures? Means nothing. They’re all owned by shell companies. Nothing’ll lead back. Do you think I’m new to this?”

Price clenched his jaw once more, the tendons ready to break with the force his molars clamped down on each other, held tight like a steel trap. Opening the laptop, files and logs had been opened, unencrypted, he tossed it onto Zorokov’s lap. “CIA’s been lookin’ into your exploits. Have a whole list o’ your friends. We know exactly how you filter your dirty money. So…” His head tilted the way a canines would before it bared its teeth. “Wanna tell me how a trafficker hops into bed with terrorists?”

The Russian remained entirely self-satisfied, hardly put off by the threat he was currently under being delivered by the two soldiers. “Exploiting the market. These are countries that don’t have GDP – just war. They want freedom, their peace? Need to pay for it somehow,” he said with a shrug.

Rory’s lip curled at just the thought. The lack of humanity in taking advantage of a situation like that. Seeing human lives as a commodity. Her rage steadily boiled inside her, the blood rushing in her ears. Trying so hard to swallow it and keep her resolve. “Christ, you have no conscience at all, do you?”

A low chuckle filled the room, and her blood ran cold at the sound. “Business isn’t about conscience. It's about profit.”

Her hand curled into a fist, her nails carving crescents into the palm of her hand. “So, money’s all that matters to you then?” The anger had all faded from her voice, there was a cold defiance to it instead. Resolute in her next actions. “You must have Swiss bank accounts just spilling with rubles. Shell corporations won’t do so well without an influx of funds. A plug in the system would certainly make things difficult for you and your ilk, wouldn’t it?”

“Something like that would take you months… years to make happen.”

“Unless it's already been in the works.” Price’s smirk grew as he stood up tall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Known, suspected, and likely targets…and based on what we  know about you, well , you were pushed up that list.” He slipped the phone from his pocket and tapped on the laptop. “I suggest you keep your eyes on that screen.”

With a darkened stare, Zorokov straightened himself to sit up square in his bed. His attention turned to the computer sitting on his lap. 

Getting in contact with Laswell, Price had the phone to his ear as she answered his call. 

“ John. ” 

“In a meeting with Zorokov. You’ve got his financials available, yeah?”

“ I do .”

“Bleed the shell accounts first.”

The banking information on the laptop screen showed the drain on the account as fund blockages were accepted and transfers put on hold. 

“I have a feeling your comrades might not like that their money’s tied up with you for much longer. Might not be so safe after all. Men like that don’t take too kindly to being fucked around, eh? You’re about to owe a lot to some dangerous people. Would be a real shame if you didn’t have the funds to keep yourself alive, wouldn’t it?”

Zorokov’s eye began to twitch, his lip curling into a snarl.  “Threaten me all you want, it doesn’t change anything. War still goes on and there are those of us who will prosper.”

“Fundin’ both sides certainly helps, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m the first to do so? Look at your precious America, Britain…you think they aren’t complicit in the same fucking thing? CIA, MI6, FSB – they are all the same. Manufacturing conflict for their own ends. War is good business.”

“And Al Ghulam…” Rory stepped into the light, looking him dead in the eye. “What’s the tie to him?” 

“Never heard of him.” Glancing away from her, his body gave her all the telltale signs of a lie. The heavy swallow, shortening of breath, the sweat on the brow. He was breaking down. And an incredibly shitty liar when he wasn’t the one in control. He had grown lazy, complacent with all that money at his fingertips. 

He stood no chance against her.

“Bullshit,” she growled. “I was the one to get him to talk. I know he was working with a European PMC group when it came to transferring human lives across from Iraq in trade for weapons, a group that was working with ISIS.” She drew closer, coming within reach of the oligarch, her eyes flaring. “Why do I get the feeling you were behind that group?”

Rory and Zorokov locked eyes, like a bull seeing red she was ready to charge and attack. Ready to gore the bastard for what he had done, for the acts he was complicit in. Striking at the jugular just as Price agreed they would. 

She decided to play chicken with the man.

Her stare never wavering, she waited for him to talk. Waiting for the lack of pain medication flowing into his system to have its desired effect. Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper as she leaned over, crowding him. “Tell me I’m right.”

Zorokov flinched first.

“You hear that?” Price spoke into his phone, giving Laswell another weak spot to exploit. “Come across any ties to PMCs in the records?”

“A few…” Laswell replied.

“How many working in Syria or Iraq?”

“ Just one. Based out of Kastovia, they’ve been in and out of the middle east region for years . Recently there was an influx of funds from a Saudi oil shell.”

“Saudis, eh?” Price’s eyes lifted to meet Rory’s across from him. “You ready for a change of scenery, Sergeant?”

They were heading to the desert, back to the sand and the beaming hot heat. It was still odd to think that she had only been back in England for the last six months, put on desk duty with the SRR, and now here she was headed back into the chaos she had been given a reprieve from. Tying up loose ends that she never thought she would get the chance to. Healing old wounds after opening them up again on this mission. However, one glaring problem still existed, sitting in the hospital bed before them.

“And him?” Rory tipped her head towards the Russian in their midst.

“He's not out of the woods yet. Intelligence is going to love to get their hooks in ‘im.”

She scowled, her fixed stare burning a hole between Zorokov’s eyes. “Protection. Really ?” Her gaze shifted back to the captain; jaw clenched tight. It felt like a punch to the gut, another of these bastards being given the last thing they deserved. A slap on the wrist and then every transgression hidden from sight once more. 

“For now. Come on, Sergeant. We got what we needed.” Price closed the laptop and scooped it under his arm. “Let's move.”

She snarled, giving the Russian one last glaring look before leaving the room. Shoving her way past the security detail, fury coiled inside her. The mission wasn’t about stopping Zorokov, nor cutting off one of the heads of the hydra. It was about his ties to the greater threat, the terrorists. It was about weapons. War . The machine she was very much a part of. Women and children be damned, it was never about them.

[actowiz-123]

Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com – A Complete Guide

Introduction

In an age where information is power, data-driven decision-making has become the cornerstone of business strategies and personal choices. Whether you're a traveler seeking the best deals on accommodations or a data enthusiast looking to uncover travel industry trends, web scraping has emerged as a game-changing tool. Our comprehensive guide, "Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com," takes you through the intricate art of extracting valuable information from one of the world's most popular travel and hotel booking platforms.

Booking.com, a global leader in online travel and related services, hosts a treasure trove of hotel prices, reviews, and availability data. With the right tools, techniques, and an understanding of ethical scraping practices, you can unlock a wealth of previously hidden insights behind web pages.

So, whether you're a traveler seeking the perfect getaway or a data enthusiast looking to harness the power of web scraping, join us as we uncover the secrets to scrape hotel pricing data from Booking.com effectively and responsibly.

Booking.com: A Gateway to Global Travel Experiences

Booking.com, founded in 1996, is a globally acclaimed online travel agency headquartered in Amsterdam, Netherlands. It offers a vast array of accommodation options, including hotels, apartments, and vacation homes, in over 220 countries. The platform is famous for its intuitive user interface, making it effortless for travelers to discover and reserve accommodations that align with their tastes and financial considerations. Booking.com also provides valuable features like price comparisons and guest reviews. Handling millions of bookings each year, it has solidified its status as a reliable tool for both travelers and property owners. This platform plays a substantial part in influencing the travel and hospitality industry by simplifying and enhancing the accessibility and convenience of travel planning and reservations.

Is Booking.com Better Than Other Travel Platforms?

Whether Booking.com is better than other travel platforms depends on individual preferences, needs, and specific travel circumstances. Booking.com is a popular and well-regarded platform with several strengths, but some travelers may have better choices. Here are some factors to consider:

Advantages of Booking.com

Ease of Use: The website and mobile app have user-friendly interfaces, making searching and booking accommodations easy.

Instant Confirmation: Many properties offer instant booking confirmation, providing convenience and peace of mind.

Price Comparison: Booking.com often displays competitive prices and deals, making it convenient for price-conscious travelers.

User Reviews: The platform provides extensive guest reviews and ratings, helping travelers decide where to stay.

Wide Selection: Booking.com offers many accommodations, including hotels, apartments, and vacation homes, with properties available in numerous destinations worldwide.

Why Web Data is Essential for a Comprehensive Understanding of Hotel Pricing?

Web data is a vital resource for comprehending hotel pricing data. It offers a dynamic and real-time view of the ever-changing landscape of the hospitality industry. Hotel pricing is not static; it fluctuates based on various factors such as demand, location, seasonality, and special events. By harnessing web data, one gains access to the most current and accurate information, enabling travelers to make well-informed decisions and businesses to adapt their pricing strategies.

Comparative analysis is made possible through web data, allowing individuals and organizations to compare prices across various hotels, room types, and booking platforms. This facilitates a more nuanced understanding of the market, empowering users to identify the best-value accommodations for their needs.

Moreover, web data reveals market trends and competitive intelligence, enabling businesses to optimize their pricing strategies, forecast demand, and stay competitive. Historical pricing data offers insights into long-term pricing trends, while personalized recommendations use this data to suggest accommodations that match individual preferences and budgets

Web data is a powerful tool for travelers, businesses, researchers, and analysts to navigate the complex world of hotel pricing. It empowers users to make cost-effective decisions and assists the travel and hospitality industry in providing tailored and competitive services.

List of Data Fields You Should Consider to Scrape Hotel Pricing Data from Booking.com

When scraping hotel pricing data from Booking.com, you can extract various fields to suit your needs. Here's a list of standard data fields that you might consider scraping:

Hotel Name: The name of the hotel or accommodation.

Hotel Location: Information about the hotel's location, including the city, neighborhood, and address.

Hotel Ratings: The average user rating or star rating for the hotel.

Price: The nightly or overall price of the hotel room or accommodation.

Room Type: Details about the room type, such as standard, deluxe, suite, etc.

Amenities: The facilities and services offered by the hotel, like Wi-Fi, swimming pool, parking, etc.

User Reviews: Guest reviews and ratings, including comments about the hotel.

Availability: Information on the availability of rooms and the number of rooms left.

Check-in and Check-out Times: Times when guests can check in and check out.

Photos: Links to images of the hotel, rooms, and amenities.

Enhancing Your Travel Planning with Booking.com Hotel Pricing Data Scrapping

Booking.com hotel pricing data scraping is invaluable for travel planning. It equips travelers with real-time information on hotel rates, enabling them to make budget-conscious decisions and secure the best deals. Users can compare prices across accommodations and align their choices with their preferences and financial constraints. Dynamic factors such as seasonal fluctuations, location, and demand are factored into the data, ensuring travelers are well-prepared to seize opportunities for cost-effective and fulfilling journeys. Ultimately, Booking.com hotel pricing data scraping offers the assurance of well-informed travel choices and the satisfaction of getting the most out of every adventure.

Web Scraping Booking.com Prices for Instant Price Alerts

Scraping hotel pricing data from Booking.com for price alerts is a practical and effective way to stay updated on changes in hotel rates. By periodically scraping the website, you can monitor price fluctuations and receive timely notifications when the rates for your chosen accommodations drop to your desired level. This ensures you always take advantage of a great deal, making it an invaluable tool for budget-conscious travelers and individuals seeking the best stay value. Through web scraping, you have the ability to streamline the price tracking process, affording you a competitive advantage and the assurance that you're making prudent, budget-friendly booking choices.

Leveraging Booking.com Data Scraping for Competitor Price Analysis

Scraping Booking.com price data for competitor analysis is a strategic move for businesses in the travel and hospitality sector. It provides insights into the pricing strategies of rival hotels and accommodations, enabling companies to make informed decisions about their rates and offerings. By monitoring and comparing the pricing landscape, businesses can stay competitive, adjust prices to attract customers, and enhance revenue management. Web scraping automates this process, allowing for real-time data collection and analysis, which is critical in an industry where prices can change rapidly. In essence, scraping Booking.com for competitor pricing data is an innovative and proactive approach to achieving a competitive edge in the market.

Unlocking Market Insights: Data Scraping from Booking.com for Research

Utilizing Booking.com data scraping for market research is a game-changer in understanding the dynamic travel and hospitality industry. Competitive advantages can be acquired by extracting information related to pricing, availability, and user reviews. This data provides insights into consumer preferences, pricing trends, and seasonal variations. Researchers and analysts can uncover patterns, helping industries adapt strategies and stay ahead of market shifts. The comprehensive data obtained through scraping allows for in-depth market analysis, equipping companies with valuable information to make informed decisions, launch targeted marketing campaigns, and improve customer satisfaction by aligning services with market demands.

Optimizing Inventory Control with Booking.com Data Extraction

Scraping Booking.com data for inventory management is a strategic approach for hotels and property owners. This process involves extracting real-time data on room availability, rates, and bookings. By monitoring their property listings and competitors, businesses can optimize pricing and occupancy, reducing the risk of overbooking or underutilizing assets. It allows for efficient control of room allocations, ensuring that rooms are overbooked and occupied, ultimately enhancing revenue and customer satisfaction. Web scraping automates these tasks, providing accurate and timely data to make informed inventory management decisions and maintain a seamless booking process for guests.

Strategic Booking Made Simple: Maximizing Opportunities with Booking.com Data Scraping

Scraping Booking.com data for booking optimization is a strategic approach to ensure travelers secure the best deals. By extracting real-time pricing and availability data, users can identify opportune moments to book accommodations at favorable rates. This data empowers travelers to make informed decisions, avoiding overpaying during peak demand. Additionally, businesses can optimize their pricing strategies by tracking and analyzing competitive rates, ultimately increasing occupancy and revenue. Web scraping provides the automation needed to monitor price changes, allowing travelers and businesses to capitalize on cost-effective booking opportunities and enhance their overall booking experience.

Strategic Insights: Booking.com Data Extraction for Benchmarking in Hospitality

Booking.com data extraction plays a pivotal role in hospitality industry benchmarking. It enables businesses to gather and analyze pricing, occupancy rates, and customer reviews from Booking.com and similar platforms. This data offers invaluable insights for evaluating a hotel or property's performance compared to competitors. Benchmarking helps refine pricing strategies, identify improvement opportunities, and enhance service quality. It also facilitates informed decisions based on the market's best practices. By utilizing web scraping for data extraction, the hospitality industry gains a competitive edge and the ability to adapt to evolving market dynamics effectively.

Data-Driven Insights: The Power of Booking.com Web Scraping in Predictive Analysis

Booking.com web scraping is a critical tool for predictive analysis in the travel and hospitality industry. Businesses can develop predictive models forecasting future trends and consumer behavior by extracting historical pricing and occupancy data. This information empowers hotels and travel agencies to make data-driven decisions regarding pricing, demand, and marketing strategies. Predictive analysis aids in optimizing room rates, maximizing occupancy, and enhancing overall revenue. It's a strategic approach to stay ahead in a highly competitive market, ensuring that accommodations are priced accurately and aligned with market dynamics, resulting in improved profitability and customer satisfaction.

Smart Travel Management: Utilizing Booking.com Data Scraping for Business Trips

Booking.com data scraping serves as a valuable resource for business travel planning. Companies can efficiently manage their corporate travel expenses by extracting real-time data on hotel availability, pricing, and amenities. This allows businesses to find accommodations that align with budget constraints and the specific needs of their employees. Real-time data ensures that travelers secure bookings in line with corporate policies, enhancing compliance and cost control. Additionally, it streamlines the booking process, making it more efficient and convenient. Overall, Booking.com data scraping is a strategic tool for companies seeking to optimize their business travel planning, ensuring a seamless and cost-effective experience for their employees.

Why Choose Actowiz Solutions for Scraping Booking.com Data?

If you're considering choosing Actowiz Solutions to extract hotel pricing data from Booking.com, here are some reasons to opt for our services:

Automation: We can set up automated scraping processes, saving you time and effort while ensuring your data remains up-to-date.

Confidentiality: Data security and confidentiality are paramount to us. We take all necessary precautions to ensure your data is handled with the utmost care and discretion.

Cost-Effective Solutions: We offer cost-effective solutions that provide value for your specific use case, ensuring a positive return on investment.

Customized Solutions: We tailor our scraping solutions to meet your unique requirements. Whether you need specific data fields, frequency of scraping, or advanced data analysis, our services can be tailored to your project's objectives.

Data Analysis: Besides data extraction, we offer data analysis services, helping you derive meaningful insights from the scraped data. This can be valuable for market research, competitor analysis, and more.

Data Quality: We prioritize data quality and accuracy. Our scraping processes ensure that the extracted data is structured, clean, and reliable, providing high-quality information.

Expertise: Actowiz Solutions boasts a highly skilled and experienced web scraping expert team. We possess in-depth knowledge of web scraping techniques and tools, ensuring accurate and efficient data extraction from Booking.com.

Legal and Ethical Compliance: Actowiz Solutions adheres to the legal and ethical guidelines of web scraping. We respect the terms of service of Booking.com and take data protection and privacy regulations seriously.

Ongoing Support: We provide ongoing support and maintenance for your scraping processes, adapting to changes in the target website's structure and ensuring the continued reliability of your data.

Scalability: Whether you have a small-scale project or require large-scale data collection, Actowiz Solutions can scale up or down per your requirements.

Conclusion

Opting for Actowiz Solutions for your requirements to extract hotel pricing data from Booking.com is synonymous with placing your project in the hands of a team of dedicated experts committed to providing top-notch, ethical, and effective web scraping solutions. We collaborate closely with you to grasp your goals and customize our services to align perfectly with your objectives. For more details, contact Actowiz Solutions now! You can also reach us for all your mobile app scraping, instant data scraper and web scraping service requirements.

FAQs

Below are several commonly asked questions (FAQs) regarding the extraction of price data from Booking.com.

Is it legal to scrape data from Booking.com for personal use or research?

Web scraping Booking.com may violate their terms of service. It's essential to review and respect their policies and terms. Always consider obtaining explicit permission or using publicly available data.

Can I scrape Booking.com for commercial or business purposes?

Scraping for commercial purposes is more likely to violate Booking.com's terms of service. It's crucial to respect their policies and explore legal data access options.

What tools or technologies are recommended for scraping Booking.com price data?

You can use web scraping libraries in Python like BeautifulSoup and requests for the scraping process. Tools like Selenium may be helpful when dealing with dynamic content.

How can I ensure my scraping activities respect Booking.com's policies?

Limit the frequency of your requests to Booking.com, use proper user agents, and avoid causing unnecessary server load. Always respect their terms and policies.

What data should I scrape from Booking.com for price comparison or analysis?

Common data points to scrape include hotel names, locations, prices, and other relevant information. Your choice of data may depend on your specific analysis goals.

How do I handle dynamic elements on Booking.com's pages, especially with price data loaded via JavaScript?

To handle dynamic content, you may need to use a headless browser automation tool like Selenium, which can interact with JavaScript-driven elements and retrieve the required data.

Are there any legal considerations when scraping Booking.com data for research or analysis?

Ensure that your scraping activities comply with data protection and privacy laws. Respect intellectual property rights, and never scrape sensitive or personal data.

What should I do if Booking.com changes its website structure or policies, affecting my scrapping process?

Stay updated with any changes to Booking.com's website structure or policies. Be prepared to adapt your scraping scripts accordingly.

How should I handle pagination when scraping multiple pages of hotel data from Booking.com?

You can handle pagination by identifying the following page URL and iterating through the pages in your scraping script. Ensure your code can handle different pagination formats that Booking.com may use.

Can I share or sell the scraped data obtained from Booking.com?

Generally, sharing or selling scraped data without permission can lead to legal issues. Always respect intellectual property rights and terms of service.

Are there any best practices for responsible web scraping when dealing with Booking.com or similar websites?

Best practices include:

Respecting website terms.

Avoiding excessive requests.

Using ethical scraping techniques.

Ensuring the data is used for legitimate and ethical purposes.

How can I ensure the accuracy and quality of the scraped data, especially for price comparison purposes?

Implement data cleaning and preprocessing steps to handle inconsistencies and outliers in the scraped data. Verify data integrity and quality regularly.

What steps should be taken to ensure data privacy and security when scraping and handling scraped data?

Implement data security practices, including encryption, access controls, and data anonymization, to protect the privacy and security of scraped data.

[iwebscrapingblogs]

iWeb Scraping provides the Best Hotel Price Monitoring Services in the USA, Australia, UAE, and Singapore to scrape or extract hotel Data and price Data from travel websites and Mobile apps.

For More Information:-

[bucci-cookies]

A Trip To Naples - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

Here is a commission piece I did where the reader goes on a trip to Italy and falls in love with a lovely stranger :)

Naples: the birthplace of pizza, home of the famous Amalfi Coast and, of course, the destination of your impulsive getaway. With the stress of work pushing down on your shoulders, you needed some sort of break; those winning tickets couldn’t have come at a better time. Three weeks living in the bustling Campanian city in an all-expenses paid hotel was a perfect way to spend your annual vacation time.

One of the highlights of Naples was its colourful markets: picturesque stalls and shops lining the cobblestoned streets selling various trinkets, clothing and flowers. You found yourself in the Market of Antignano, deep in the centre of Vomero. The jovial sellers beckoned you over to look at the various slippers, cosmetics and linen sitting on the displays, eager to squeeze some money out of you before lunch. An elderly woman with thick black hair selling keyrings waved at you, shaking one of them in her hand. It was a cute little thing, a brown plastic bear holding a red heart between its paws, all connected to the metal ring. You figured that you might as well replace your old worn-out one with a new souvenir.

“Questo è perfetto per voi zucca!” She smiled, placing the ring in your hand. To your knowledge, she said it was perfect for you.

“Il mio Italiano…non è buono” You laughed awkwardly. The only fault in this seemingly perfect holiday was that you only had very little knowledge of the language. You could say enough to scrape by, but in this case, you found it easier to say you don’t know the language well.

“Ah! You speak English, zucca?” The woman asked, not phased by your inability to speak her Italian.

You sighed loudly, thankful that you could converse in a language you understood. “Yes, I do. Sorry, this is my first time in Italy.”

“Oh? How lovely!” She beamed, giving you a toothy grin. She looked down at her watch, 1 pm, almost time to close up for today. "Have you got somewhere to go for lunch?"

"Nowhere, in particular. I'll just walk around and see what looks nice." You had researched local places to eat earlier. Most of them were within the same vicinity so you planned to go to whatever seemed less busy to avoid long queues.

"Zucca, you must go to Libeccio!" She shook your hand, almost like her life depended on you going there. "It's marvellous, oh you'll love it!" She squealed. "Plus," She said with a  smirk, "it's owned by such a sweet young man, Bucciarati. He's so graceful and kind, you’ll love him!”

You remember searching up Libeccio - it was a beautiful restaurant, though you were worried it was a little out of your price range. It screamed expensive from the pictures you saw online. Well, you were on holiday, you might as well allow a little bit of luxury. You paid for the keyring, placing it in the side pocket of your bag before waving the kind woman off as she packed up her stall for the day.

Libeccio was about a ten-minute walk away, allowing you to explore parts of the region a bit more. You took note of some stylish boutiques along the way, thinking about how your wardrobe could do with a revamp. As well as some grocery stores for if you ever needed a snack.

Libeccio, unsurprisingly, was an Italianate-style building. Bay windows with pink and shamrock-like decorative window trims along both stories of the tawny-coloured building. The inside had half-cream half-dark oak walls, and a soft crimson carpet covering the entire dining area. It was a little intimidating to see so many well-dressed people sitting together. Eating meals you probably couldn’t pronounce and drinking wines you had never heard of. You felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You swallowed the lump in your throat and made your way to the waiting table where one of the floor workers stood, writing some notes in a large black book. He greeted you with a wide smile as his hazel eyes and tanned skin shone under the bright lights that reflected off his silver name badge that read ‘Alejandro’. He held up a finger, presumably asking you if you were the only diner, to which you nodded. Before you could get a word in, he placed you on a two-seater table near one of the windows with a menu and a glass of water to get you started.

You opened the sleek black booklet, revealing extensive lists of appetisers, starters, mains and desserts, all in clean, fancy, Italian writing. The best thing you could do was whip out Google and try to search for all these meals. You tried to note what sounded best, whittling down the list as best as you could, but you barely scratched the surface of the menu when the waiter returned, asking if you would like to order. With an embarrassed blush, you tried to explain how you were struggling to read the menu. But it seemed like he couldn’t understand you, especially over the noisy restaurant.

You didn’t notice that this interaction had caught the attention of a group of men who sat a couple of tables down from yours. “Scusi.” A sultry voice said. You looked up to see a tall man with darker skin standing next to the waiter. The mas w `A`1as dressed in a cropped sweater and sleek black jeans, offering a perfect view of his toned abdomen. His hair was thick and curly, framing his roundish face and drawing attention to his dark eyes. The man whispered something to the waiter, making him run off, before pulling a chair next to you.

“Buongiorno signora. Are you having trouble with your menu? I see you switching between it and your phone.” Before you could begin to question who this man was and how he knew you would speak English, he took the menu from your hands and began flicking through the pages before tapping one of the options. “This is gravlax bella, it's just cured salmon, comes in thin slices.” He turned over the page. “Ah and capricciosa! You’ve got mushroom, artichokes, baked ham, olives, my absolute favourite!” He said with gusto as he scooched a little closer to you. Truth be told, you didn’t feel too comfortable in this situation, a strange man in a strange country acting so familiar with you made you uneasy. And the way he so easily managed to get rid of the waiter rubbed you the wrong way, who knows what his intentions were? You simply tucked your lips in and nodded at his rambling about the menu, thankful that you at least had some options to order.

You avoided eye contact with the strange man until suddenly his voice stopped. You looked over to see another man standing behind him, one with lighter skin and short black hair. “Mista,” He sighed, his voice a smooth baritone, “la stai mettendo a disagio.” He whispered with a smile, squeezing the man’s shoulder. Instantly he looked back at you, bowing his head.

“I’m so sorry signora, I’ll get out of your way!” He dropped the menu back on the table and walked back to his original seat. He was met with the disapproving headshakes of the third man on the table. The new man moved the chair back to its original place opposite you before holding out a hand.

“Bruno Bucciarati, I’m the owner.” He shot you a dazzling smile. Thankful that he was at least affiliated with the restaurant and not another stranger, you calmly shook his hand. You had to admit, the woman from the market was right, he was handsome. His frame was tall and lean and he had a certain youthful essence in his speech and gestures. His hair was cut to his shoulders, neatly styled to form bangs that reached his thin black eyebrows. His eyes were the most noticeable feature on his face, soft blue ones surrounded by long lashes. If you had to guess, he was probably in his mid 20s. Part of you wondered how a young man like him could own such a lavish restaurant. “You’ll have to forgive my friend, he was only trying to help and he got a bit carried away.” Bruno turned around to face the man you now know to be Mista, presumably staring him down, before facing you again and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.

“It’s fine, thank you for clarifying.” You smiled back. “I’m really glad we can speak in English, my Italian isn’t good at all.”

He cocked his head to the side, thin eyebrows furrowed. “You weren’t able to request a menu in English?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, realising this could have been resolved if you simply asked for a different menu. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I could!” You pressed your hands against your cheeks in shame.

Bruno laughed gently, his shoulder relaxing, grateful that this wasn’t a staff complaint in the works. “It’s okay, I’m glad you know for next time, I will go get you one.” He came back shortly with an identical menu, this time with everything in English. “We get a lot of tourists here, so we print a couple menus in different languages, mainly English and French.”

“Thank you so much sir, it helps a lot.” You waved him goodbye as you flicked through the new one, picking up all of the meals you had missed out on earlier. You decided to give Mista’s suggestion a go, after all, he was just trying to be nice. A different waiter met you this time, a woman with her hair tied back in a long, blonde ponytail and an exuberant expression across on her face, ready to take your order: the capricciosa pizza, and a slice of chocolate cake with gelato for dessert.

By now the restaurant had more customers, different groups of people huddled around the tables, filling the room with the smell of their meals and another layer of noise above the soft music in the background. Couples, families and friends chuckled and chatted together, enjoying the lively mood that the Naples summer put into them as they shared glasses of wine and scrumptious desserts. It didn’t take long for your waitress to return with a piping hot thin crust pizza on a large round plate with a rich cheesy and meaty aroma exuding from it as she placed it in front of your nose. She refilled your glass of water, adding a few blocks of ice to cool you down as the weather had begun to increase, before leaving you to enjoy your meal.

You took a bite from one of the slices, enjoying how the base crunched in your mouth and sighed, it was incredible. The meat was perfectly seasoned and paired wonderfully with the assortment of vegetables. This particular version had an additional drizzle of olive oil, but to your delight, it didn’t make the dish greasy at all. You had never had a pizza as wonderful as this, you saw why that nice old lady recommended Libeccio to you, as well as why Naples is known as the pizza hotspot. It’s like the meal had some sort of hold on you, its smell wrapped around your body, making you focus on the rich ham and savoury sauce. You ordered one of the smaller sizes, making sure you had enough space for dessert, which was just as delightful. The cool vanilla gelato was a perfect pair for the thick, warm chocolate cake. You always tried to limit your sugar intake, not wanting to sacrifice your health for a few treats, but it didn’t take long for your sweet tooth to activate and completely devour the rich cake.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Mr Bucciarati returned once your plates had been cleared, sitting on the chair opposite you. “I hope everything was to your taste?” He placed his elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand.

While wiping your lips with a napkin, you nodded enthusiastically. “I did! I guess your friend was right about the capricciosa, it’s really amazing!” You definitely planned to return to Libeccio soon, especially since it wasn’t as expensive as you thought it would be.

His cerulean eyes lit up as a toothy grin formed. Libeccio had been his favourite restaurant since he was young. When he bought the establishment from the previous owner, he spared no expense to continue to do its name justice, not wanting to cut any corners regarding the quality of service or food as some would do. “Well I’m glad you liked it, it’s one of my favourites too.” He leaned in a little towards you, clearing his throat. “Can I ask, is this your first time in Italy?”

You paused a little before replying. “Yes. I never travel much, it’s far too expensive these days. I actually won these tickets in a lottery.”

He gave an understanding nod before switching to another beaming smile. “Ahh well that’s lucky, Naples is one of the best cities here. Call me biased since I grew up here, but I thoroughly prefer it to cities up north.” He folded his arms against his chest with a jokingly smug expression on his face. To Bruno, no amount of glitz and glam in Florence or Milan could match the warm pleasure that Naples made in his heart.

“Well, I’m glad I’m in the right place.” You smiled, turning to face him a little more.

“May I ask where you’re from?”

With slight hesitation, you revealed your home country to the kind stranger, watching his eyes light up at your words.

He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “Oh? I hear how beautiful it is there, especially in the Spring. I have an old friend who moved to,” He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name. “It’s escaped me now, but you know the small town in the south, the one with all the mountains and forests? I had a friend who moved there when we were younger. We would send each other postcards when we were little.” Bruno didn’t have many friends his age, especially as he grew up in a quieter area with an older population. This meant he cherished the few he had greatly. When his friend Mikhail moved away due to his father getting a job abroad, they vowed to always send each other letters and postcards. Sadly, this was cut short when he was twelve. You were familiar with the town he was referring to having visited there several times. It was a gorgeous area, filled with a lively artistic and historical culture, as well as being one of the largest cities from your home.

“Were you given any sort of activity list? Things to do here?” Bruno asked, fiddling with his fingers.

You shook your head. “Nothing, in particular, I don’t really know where to start.” You simply planned to rely on whatever the Internet suggested.

“If you would like anyone to go with you or show you some nice places, I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

“Oh no that’s completely fine! I don’t want to intrude on your schedule.” You grit your teeth, not wanting to inconvenience the lovely owner.

He scoffed with a light-hearted tone, shaking his head. “No, it's fine! You won’t be interrupting anything, I promise.” He paused, briefly before pulling a pen out of his shirt pocket and writing something on a napkin. “Here, this is my number. If you would like to go anywhere or need an idea, I would be more than willing to help.” He neatly folded it and handed it to you. “You don’t have to agree, this is just a suggestion! I know that being in a new country can be hard and sometimes daunting.” He quickly explained, holding his hands up as if to prove that this was just an innocent suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel as overwhelmed by a stranger as you did when Mista approached you.

You took the napkin from him, placing it in your purse. “Thank you Mr Bucciarati.” There was something about him that made it easy to talk to him: maybe it was his calm body language or his soft facial expressions, but it felt nice talking to him. In your gut, he seemed like a good guy. Besides, it would be nice to have a native speaker around to guide you.

“You can just call me Bruno by the way.” Usually, he was fine with being referred to as Bucciarati, but something in him felt like being less formal with you. “What can I call you?”

“y/n.”

He smiled and tilted his head to the side, causing his hair to fall slightly as he slowly repeated your name. “That’s such a beautiful name.”

**************************************************

It had been two days since you visited Libeccio, and still, the kind man’s napkin sat in your bag, stuffed underneath your purse. Bruno did seem nice, and at least he was the well-known owner of Libeccio, so he wasn’t a completely random stranger. It would be nice to have a personal tour guide, especially someone native to the area, it would also make your trip a lot less lonely. You pulled out the napkin and used the hotel phone to call him. After two rings, he picked up.

“Salve, Bucciarati parla.” He said, his voice was deep and groggy like he had just woken up and you could hear the sizzling of a frying pan in the background.

“Mr Bucciarati - Bruno?” You cleared your throat. “It’s y/n, I hope I didn’t call at a bad time.” You heard ceramic plates clanging against each other as well as the opening and closing of wooden drawers.

Bruno yawned before replying, rubbing his neck, soothing it after an uncomfortable night’s rest. “From Libeccio right?” His voice sounded a little chippier as he placed some bread in the toaster. He couldn’t deny that he was hoping you would call, at least this was something pleasant to start off his otherwise boring day.

“Mhm…I’m sorry I responded so late I-” 

“It’s fine, it was a bold move on my part.” He cut you off with a light chuckle as he spread some butter on a crisp slice of toast. He was never usually so forward, especially with new people, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured or preyed on. “Does this mean that you’ve decided to take up my offer?”

“Yes.” You nodded, perching on the end of your double bed.

He was thankful that you couldn’t see the wide grin that spread across his face. “How do you feel about pasta making?” The kettle whistled in the background, steam bursting out of the spout before settling. “There’s a place in the Spanish Quarter, they do pasta-making sessions for pretty much anyone, they’re supposedly quite fun.” Bruno poured himself his usual morning drink, a cup of coffee with a little milk and a dash of honey. He had visited his area several times before, though never to attend a class.

The opportunity to be taught how to make a true Italian pizza did sound intriguing, and a public session would be a safe option to go with a stranger. You concluded that this would be a decent idea. “That sounds great! How much does it cost?” You eyed your purse, knowing that you put yourself on a reasonably tight budget.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll cover you.” He said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his warm coffee.

“No no, I can’t just let you pay for me!”

Bruno let out another soft chuckle as took his usual seat on the sofa. “Don’t worry, the owner owes me anyways. So how does this afternoon sound?” He asked before taking a bite out of the soft buttered bread.

You turned to face the clock on the nightstand. “I can do two o’clock if that’s okay.”

“Meet me at Libeccio then.”

Bruno sat on a long wooden bench just outside the restaurant, arms resting on the back with his head tilted backwards. He wore a blue button-up shirt, opting to leave the top few buttons, exposing the top of his toned chest. Today was a lot warmer than the rest of the week, hence the cool lemonade sitting next to him with already melted ice cubes.

“Sorry I’m late!” You waved shyly, placing a hand on the bench. “I took a wrong turn and ended up at a marketplace.” An awkward laugh left your lips as Bruno sat up to face you, holding a hand above his eyes to avoid the glare of the Sun.

“No problem, the next bus will be here in a few minutes.” He smiled, looking down at his watch. You took a seat next to him, crossing your legs as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Libeccio was even busier than the last time you were there, the chatter from inside the restaurant poured out into the busy streets. This particular street seemed to be the centre of food service in the area, with cafes, bakeries and restaurants lining the road. Across from you was a small coffee shop with outdoor seating, while a dessert parlour with a white and lilac interior sat beside it. Through the window, you could see a group of kids and adults sitting in a booth enjoying an array of ice-creams and milkshakes, the perfect treat for such a hot day.

“That place does incredible cheesecakes,” Bruno’s voice caught your attention. “Probably the best you can get in Naples.” He pointed to the dessert place you were staring at.

“Do you go there often?” You asked, turning to face the man as he sipped his drink.

“Sometimes, when I have the chance. You should try it one day!” He gave you an enthusiastic grin. Libeccio only had limited dessert options, mainly a couple variations of cake with a simple scoop of vanilla gelato, but that wasn’t enough to soothe his sweet tooth. His usual order was a chocolate milkshake with a slice of either cheesecake or a brownie. The positions of Libeccio and  Più Golosi (Sweet Tooth) complimented each other well, a savoury and sweet place just across the street from each other, a perfect, tempting pair for customers.

Before you could respond, the small yellow bus pulled up to the stop, stuffed to the brim with a flood of travellers. The double doors swung open, releasing a swarm of people as they rushed to jump off the stuffy vehicle. As Libeccio was in the city centre, the majority of the travellers were ending their journeys here, leaving the bus nice and spacious for the two of you. Bruno led you to a seat in the middle of the bus, slightly behind a group of teenagers chatting away about whatever trip they were on. The bus drove slowly along the street, giving you a chance to gaze at the array of bright and beautiful buildings lining the road. Naples really was a gorgeous city, decorated in bright buildings of various styles: gothic, classical, italiante, modern. Its proximity to the water not only guaranteed you a few nice days at the beautiful beach, but it also meant that you would get some of the best seafood around. As schools were closed for the holidays, you weren’t surprised to see so many kids and teens walking around. Some were in swimwear, most likely from the aforementioned beach, while others were in various summer wear, laughing with friends over smoothies as they moved from shop to shop.

It didn’t take long to reach the place, a large stone building with several cars parked in front. Near one of the entrances was a tall man with cropped black hair, treating himself to a smoke break. “Cardinale.” Bruno waved at the man, causing him to look up from his lighter. On closer inspection, the man, Cardinale, had a large tattoo on his forearm reading “Frederica.”

“Bucciarati.” Cardinale nodded with a smile, walking towards the two of you. “Oh, you brought a friend?” He faced you, looking you up and down before reaching out a hand towards you. “Cardinale, as you have heard.”

You took his hand, noting his strong grip on your hand. “Y/n, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” He let go of your hand, looking down at his watch. “If you’re here for a class, the next one is in about five minutes, Angelica is leading. Just put on an apron and wait in the hall with the rest of the group.” He pointed you in the direction of the large entrance next to him. “Don’t worry about a fee.” He took a puff of his cigarette as he waved the two of you off.

Contrary to its rustic exterior, the inside of the culinary school was extremely modern and polished. In the long hallway stood a group of about ten people, presumably the other people joining the class, chatting amongst themselves. Along the wall was a line of aprons, well, what would have been a line of aprons if they hadn’t been taken by the rest of the group, you and Bruno helped yourselves to the last two.

The wooden door at the end of the hall swung open, revealing a young woman with thick curly hair, beckoning everyone in. “Welcome welcome! Come inside!” She held the door open for everyone, greeting each member as they entered the pristine kitchen. She was quite tall, with dark skin and hazel eyes, all complimenting the friendly smile spread across her face, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “Two people to a bench, please wash your hands before you touch anything.”

By default, you and Bruno stayed as a pair, choosing one of the benches near the large arched windows. The woman introduced herself as Angelica, explaining that she was a final-year culinary student and would be leading this session. She took you through all the steps, from making the dough, to forming the various shapes and preparing the sauce. Bruno seemed to be a master already, calmly forming little portions of perfect gnocchi, enough to get some praise from Angelica as she walked around the benches. At first, you were dreading this, worried that you would be the only one to mess up the shapes. The first few pieces of garganelli came out rather flat or irregularly folded, but after the fourth one, you started to get the hang of it. You decided to mix it up with some gemelli, they were much easier than the radiatori which Bruno made.

“You’re so good at this.” You laughed awkwardly, eyeing the array of styles Bruno had made.

He scoffed in return. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, trust me when I say that I was worse than you when I first started.” He tutted loudly, realising he had squashed the riccioli in his hands. “As you can see, I still make mistakes.”

“I don’t think I’ll even attempt the ruote or the spighe.” Angelica had a camera set up at her station, it projected a birds-eye view of her work onto the screen slightly to the left of her. On her board were roughly thirty different types of pasta she made on the spot, ready to be cooked. They were all perfectly shaped with no sign of imperfections.

“Well, maybe when you return from your holiday you can continue practising. Being able to make pasta from home can save a lot of money sometimes.” 

“Do you make all of yours from scratch then?” You asked, using the pasta machine to flatten out a new section of dough.

“I try to if I have the time.”

You shook your head. “Owning a restaurant must take a lot of your time, I can’t imagine how much work goes into it.” You began sectioning out the dough for a batch of casarecce.

“Well yes…sort of.” Owning a restaurant was time-consuming, Bruno wouldn’t deny it. But it wasn’t the only thing that limited his time and availability. His position with Passione didn’t concern you, after all, you were a tourist and a stranger. Before the conversation could continue any further, Angelica called everyone’s attention to the front where she took everyone through the sauce.

It was a simple cream sauce with bacon, parmesan and swiss cheese, a perfect match for the pasta. While the food simmered in the separate posts, the opportunity arose for the group members to mingle with each other, only for a few minutes. You ended up conversing with the couple behind you, a pair of 19-year-old university students on a date. The four of you talked about the summer, they shared their plans to travel around Naples before returning to Rome for their studies. While you and Bruno explained that you were also on holiday here and he was showing you around.

Once everything was cooked and plated to Angelica’s standards, everyone made their way to the dining area just down the hall from the kitchen. You both sat by a round wooden table situated by a window, helping yourselves to the freshly squeezed juice offered. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the worst as you took a bite of your dish. To your surprise it was delightful! The thick creamy sauce paired wonderfully with the light pasta, and the bacon gave an extra savoury crunch to the dish.

“See, I knew you weren’t as bad as you thought.” Bruno asked, topping up his glass of juice.

“I surprised myself honestly.” You laughed, collecting another forkful of food. “How is yours?” You noticed that he had already eaten half of his plate.

“As you can see, I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was lovely if I do say so myself.” He smirked proudly, his expression making you giggle. “Though I think I’ll add more vegetables to it if I remake it.” He ate another forkful.

The two of you conversed a little more as you cleaned up your plates and washed them up. Bruno was a real gentleman, even with the smallest things like holding the door open for you, he was a good listener and showed genuine interest in your stories about back home. There was something about him that made you very comfortable, he genuinely seemed like a friend to you, despite how little time you had known him for.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” You said as you walked towards the bus stop. “I’m very grateful that you did this.” You rubbed the back of your neck shyly.

Bruno gave you a smile as he dug his hands into his pocket, “It’s no problem.” The bus back to Libeccio arrived and you both got on board. It was just as empty as it was when you got on it earlier, allowing the two of you to speak openly. “Y/n? While I enjoy your company and would love to show you more interesting places, I just hope you don’t pressured to meet with me. I know that being in a new country can be daunting and I don’t want you to feel unsafe around me.” Bruno said, squeezing the fabric of his trousers.

“Well, I’m thankful that you appreciate boundaries. I’d like to think I can trust you, I would like to see more places, its better than travelling all alone. You replied, resting your back against the window so you faced him.

The corners of his lips upturned lightly. “I would like that too.” He cocked his head to the side. “Just give me a call whenever you feel like meeting again.”

**************************************************

Today marked two weeks of your trip, and of those fourteen days, ten of them had been spent with Mr Bruno Bucciarati. After the success of the pasta-making class, you met up the next day to try out that dessert place you were looking at, Più Golosi. He treated you to an ice cream sundae with a fluffy waffle, while he had a tall glass of hot chocolate with a slice of carrot cake. The day after that, he took you through the underground world of the Napoli Sotteranea, through the ancient labyrinth of aqueducts, passages and cisterns, weaving through the narrow passages by candlelight. Later you visited some of the other marketplaces, trying out some of the local street food like cuoppo and graffa. Graffa was a kind of fried fluffy, potato-based doughnut covered with sugar. Cuoppo came in land and sea variations, with the land version consisting of potato crocché stuffed with cheese and ham, pasta zeppole, zucchini flowers, ricotta and scagliuozz, arancini rice and more. With the sea version contains squid and shrimp rings, seaweed fritters and fried fravaglietti. You both shared a love for music and art and expressed these through trips to the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte and the busy busking-rich streets where guitarists and pianists were often found entertaining crowds dotting the area.

You and Bruno had grown closer over time, sharing more intimate sides of you over cups of coffee and walks through the shopping centres. You ended up meeting some of his friends, Giorno, Fugo and Mista. The latter you had already met through the awkward encounter in Libeccio, but you were thankful that now you had a more pleasant encounter with him. Mista was quite the comedian, loud and unhinged, while Giorno and Fugo were more mellow and casual like Bruno. You hit it off with them immediately, you bounced off each other quite well. You learnt about his childhood, how his parents were separated and he bought Libeccio just a couple of years ago; while letting him in on details of your life back in your home country. Bruno never pried into your personal affairs, always tiptoeing around anything that could seem intrusive (he didn’t even know which hotel you were staying at), respecting the boundaries set as new companions while remaining amicable. That little connection you felt to him when you first met had increased over time, and something inside you wanted to see him more and more. Maybe it was just a silly little crush, after all, having a handsome Italian gentleman showing you around the city would make anyone blush. And besides, you were on holiday, maybe the new scenery had changed you in a way. Regardless, you were not going to act on anything, you’d had enough bad luck with past relationships, no need to cripple yourself with a fantasy-like ordeal with a strange man in another country, and it’s not like you knew if Bruno felt the same.

Today you were at the beach again, for the third time this trip, basking in the Sun and soaking up a nice tan.

“Fancy a drink?” You pulled off your sunglasses, looking up at Bruno as he stood beside you, holding out a chilled can of Coca-Cola. You thanked him for the beverage and cracked it open, enjoying the refreshing drink. “I have to leave soon, a friend is coming to pick me up in a few minutes.” He said with an apologetic tone as he packed up his belongings. “We can drop you off at Libeccio if you would like us to?” He folded his towel, placing it in his small travel bag.

You had grown a little tired of today’s beach trip anyways, with it being a Saturday, more families were free to visit the beach making it more crowded and louder than normal. “If you could that would be great.” You began packing up your own items, making sure to not leave anything behind like your water bottle or sunscreen. The two of you walked over to the parking lot after changing, where a black Honda sat with the driver resting his head on the open window.

“Who’s that.” The man looked up, pointing to you.

“She’s a friend, y/n, I need you to drop her off at Libeccio.” Bruno opened the back door for you to get in, before making his way to the front passenger seat.

“I’m not your personal driver Bucciarati.” The man scowled, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space. Bruno scoffed and leaned on the window.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve done a lot more favours for you Abbacchio,” He turned around you face you, “don’t mind him, he’s just bitter for no reason.” He gave you a reassuring smile before facing forward once more.

The journey was short, just a few minutes of driving with very little traffic. Bruno and Abbacchio talked for most of the journey, presumably about something important as they only spoke in Italian, despite them speaking in English earlier. The man Bruno was with looked about your age with pale skin, long greyish hair tied back and a few bruises on the back of his hands. You assumed this was just a friend, or maybe someone he worked with at Libeccio. They dropped you off outside of the restaurant and Bruno waved you goodbye as the car drove off.

“So are we not going to address her?” Abbacchio asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “I didn’t know you liked picking up foreign girls, I guess this is the person you show around.” 

Bruno rolled his eyes at the teasing, refusing to let it get to him.

“Oh? Trying to act like the bigger man now?” Leone turned into the next street. “I thought you’d given up on dating after Ambra? Or Esta? Or even Genevieve?” He looked at Bruno through the corner of his eye. He picked up on the way Bruno’s jaw clenched slightly after hearing his exes' names brought into the conversation. Despite what many people would assume, Bruno Bucciarati never had any luck with girlfriends. Yes he was sweet, outgoing, polite, a great cook, loving, he checked most if not all boxes on the typical ‘perfect boyfriend’ list; but his involvement with Passione was enough to render his pros useless. Ambra and Genevieve were both frightened by this connection, cutting the relationship short and eventually just ending communication with him as a whole, while Esta ended up using him for his money, despite knowing that Bruno was in love with her. These three relationships were enough to crush his spirit and deter him from dating as a whole, not wanting to have his heart shattered by anyone else. His coping mechanisms were focussing more on Passione and buying a restaurant close to his heart, Libeccio.

“She is just a friend, that’s all.” Bruno shrugged, eyes focused on the traffic lights up ahead.

“Ha! That’s rich!” Leone snorted, stopping for the red light, he paused, considering his words before saying them. “Does she know you’re in Passione?” Abbacchio had known Bruno through two of his relationships, and as one of his closest friends, he could also tell that Bruno was already interested in you and he didn’t want him to make another mistake. 

“No, she doesn’t.” 

Leone sighed, his skepticism growing. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t need to know.” Bruno snapped, winding down the window slightly for air. In his gut, he was sure that Leone knew his feelings for you, he was good at reading people. But still, Bruno was stubborn and would rather avoid such an intrusive conversation.

They had reached their destination, an old motel on the outskirts of the city. “It’s very clear that you like her Bucciarati, she’s the one you’ve been touring the city with right?” Leone sighed, knowing that he would be treading on an uncomfortable, but necessary conversation. “How do you know she’s not using you? Taking advantage of a rich guy to improve her time here, how much have you spent on her?”

“Not much.” This was technically true, anytime Bruno paid for anything, you paid him back or simply split the fee.

Abbacchio grunted, stepping out of the car and making his way to the motel room with Bruno right behind him. “Jeez, you never learn do you?” He scoffed, trying to find the right key for the room. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I don’t like her’ crap, you know you do that’s why you spent all your time with her.” He managed to unlock the door. “Just don’t let her break your heart again, I can’t say I’m expecting anything good from this.”

**************************************************

“Do you know the Amalfi Coast?” Bruno asked, poking you lightly.

You tapped your chin. “I’ve seen a few pictures, it looks beautiful.” You turned back to your plate of lasagne, cutting another piece of the dish and piling some salad on top.

Bruno cleared his throat, poking his carbonara as he tried to figure out how to word his next comment. His words were stuck in his throat leading him to continue tiptoeing around the topic as he had before. “There’s a very nice hotel that I go to sometimes, its so close to the water.” He looked up at you, trying to gauge your interest. You simply nodded and sipped your water, humming in response. “I think it's the kind of place to go with someone.” His voice upturned slightly, almost like he was asking a question. You still didn’t react much as you sipped your lemonade. Bruno huffed and placed his fork down, leaning towards you. “Y/n, I’m asking if you would like to join me.” He blurted out, making your eyes widen.

“Oh.” That was all you said as your hands paused in the middle of loading another forkful. There was an awkward pause and the air grew thicker. A bead of sweat trailed down the back of Bruno’s neck as the regret pooled at the bottom of his stomach. How could he think you would even agree to this? You had only known each other for just over two weeks, him suddenly inviting you to a hotel in another area just made him look like a creep. Now you knew he had some sort of interest in you and there was no backtracking.

‘I just want to curl up in a ball and-’

“I would love to go with you Bruno.” You said, cutting off his thoughts. You folded your lips in, fiddling with your thumbs as you stared at your plate bashfully. With such close proximity, Bruno could see the slight redness of your cheeks. So it looked like you both shared similar feelings towards each other, Bruno wondered how long the two of you had been in this state without knowing.

“I’ll drive us there tomorrow then.” He smiled, refilling his mocktail.

It felt like forever for Saturday morning to arrive, you spent hours fretting over what to wear. You hadn’t been on a date in a while (was this a date?), even longer since you went on a trip with someone you were interested in, and that most certainly didn’t end well. But you felt like Bruno was different. Despite his classy sense of style or his popularity among the locals, he never came across as judgemental or arrogant and that made it easier to get ready for the trip.

At 10 am, Bruno arrived at your hotel. This was the first time you ever told him where you were staying and you would rather he picked you up than you took a suitcase with you to meet at Libeccio. This was also the first time you ever saw his car. It looked expensive, a shiny black convertible that people kept looking at as they walked in and out of the hotel’s front doors. He wore a plain white t-shirt and had a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head. He shot you a confident smile as he waved at you, getting out to help you put your suitcase in the back.

The journey was a little longer than expected, around three and a half hours with the traffic that clogged the highway. Bruno had a designated travel playlist, burned onto a CD which he played for any long journey. It was a mix of American and Italian songs, mainly different variations of jazz or romantic songs, he made sure to sing along to most of them, even when he fumbled the lyrics. Bruno had a very smooth singing voice, his baritone voice made every word sound like honey as he sang, you could listen to it for hours.

You and Bruno conversed for a while, passing the time as you sat in traffic once more between Trecase and Torre Annunziata. Bruno told you how Mista and Giorno had asked about you, hoping to see you again before you leave, carefully excluding how they teased him for planning this trip to Amalfi, well aware of your shared interest in each other. Abbacchio was still skeptical, this spontaneous trip to Amalfi, which was completely covered by Bruno, didn’t help his gut feeling about you using him. But seeing how the two of you acted around the rest of the group made him a little more optimistic about the situation. He just hoped you wouldn’t run back home and block his number instantly.

“We’re here!” Bruno pulled up in front of a grand hotel, ‘’. It was a large classical building with pillars along the front, all coated in bright white. The inside was a soft gold colour with a gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Being here was breathtaking, you always thought your hotel in Naples was fabulous, but this was extraordinary, does Bruno really make so much money to afford this just through restaurant owning?

After Bruno checked you in, he handed you the key to your room. You and Bruno were staying in separate large rooms next to each other on the sixth floor which gave you the perfect view of the water. After a couple hours of settling in, you took a tour around the coast. Amalfi was an interesting place, it was made up of thirteen towns, all clinging to the cliffs, reaching all the way down to the beautiful shore. Tourists traipsed up and down the area, some hiking on the Path of the Gods, while others explored the Blue Grotto caves in Capri. Bruno told you that when he was younger, he assisted his father with his duties as a fisherman: from gathering bait, to fishing, to following him on deliveries to the local fishmongers. He arranged a boat for recreational fishing just off the coast of Postiano, but for the sake of preserving the natural ecosystem, participants were asked to just catch and release.

The small boat rocked slowly on the water as Bruno guided you through fishing, holding your hands in the right position to be able to reel the fish in properly. It took a couple of tries, but you managed to catch a few small sardines.

That evening, Bruno had arranged dinner at a small restaurant near the hotel.

**************************************************

La Galleria was a cosy little place specialising in seafood from the local fishing ports. Your table was on the roof with a breathtaking view of the water below as the cooler evening breeze hit the back of your neck. You wore a simple red dress, while Bruno wore a red turtleneck with a black blazer. You both had bowls of chicken caesar salad, drizzled in a rich sauce, followed by a miso-glazed black cod on white rice for Bruno, and shrimp scampi with pasta for you. As the soft jazz from below wafted up to the roof, you and Bruno reminisced on your time together these past couple weeks, from strangers in Libeccio to sharing a meal in Amalfi. Your knee brushed against Bruno’s innocently as you talked, the close proximity making your heart race. Bruno was so handsome, and even though you told yourself that you wouldn’t let a crush grow to anything more, you couldn't help but feel the urge to have his muscular arms wrapped around you or run your fingers through his soft black hair made your stomach twist. You could listen to his voice for hours on end, enjoying his cute hand gestures and his rich accent. He was so kind to you too, planning so many trips, including paying for this one. He was way too generous to you and the last thing you wanted was to come across as a golddigger of some sort, Bruno was a genuinely nice guy, so patient and attentive.

Bruno’s heart was racing too, worried he would trip on his words or forget how to say something in English as he had before when talking to you. You always looked so beautiful to him, no matter what, you always took his breath away. He couldn’t imagine the last time he had felt so at ease around someone, much less a stranger he met a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you so much Bruno, for tonight, for everything.” You said, your fingers lightly brushing against his on the table. He wanted to hold your hand badly, to kiss it again like he had before and tell you how much you meant to him.

“You’re welcome bella, I’ve really enjoyed these past-” He was cut off by the ringing of his phone, “please excuse me.” He got up immediately, excusing himself downstairs in a rush. You didn’t see the caller ID, but usually, Bruno was fine with answering calls around you, but his behaviour made you worry. The call was short and Bruno returned within a few minutes, facing his meal as if nothing happened. Ordinarily this would be normal, but it seemed like something was on his mind, like his mood was suddenly soured. You noticed how the space between you had grown slightly bigger than before, you were no longer lightly brushing against his knuckles, and nor were your knees connected. 

“Bruno, is everything okay?” You mustered up the courage to ask, worried that you would be prying too much into private affairs. You hoped he would just tell you everything was fine, that it wasn’t anything serious, but you knew it must have been.

“Y/n…” He sighed, biting on his bottom lip, “there’s something I need to tell you. I haven’t been completely honest about myself.” He avoided making eye contact with you, which was more than enough to elevate your worry. Your stomach dropped, a million possibilities racing through your head. Maybe he didn’t really like you, maybe he was using you for attention, reeling you in with a charming persona? Maybe he had a partner and was using you to cheat?

Bruno turned to face you, clutching your hand in his as he looked earnestly into your eyes. “I’m still Bruno, bella, I’m still the same person who owns Libeccio, and likes fishing. And I do like you, so much, but I can’t keep hiding this from you and I understand if this means you don’t want to be around me anymore.” His breathing was rapid as he squeezed your hand tightly. His mind was prepared for the worst scenario, he was ready for you to scream or run away from him, locking yourself in your room and finding your way back to Naples without him. He was ready for you to get angry or upset at him for not telling you sooner. Part of him regretted bringing it up already, feeling like he had thwarted his best attempt at love, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep you in the dark if he genuinely cared.

“Y/n, do you know what Passione is?”

You exhaled deeply, yes, you had heard of Passione, a hub for organised crime in the south of Italy. Was Bruno really part of them? When you think of mafiosi you imagine much older men, using laundered money for drugs, weapons, and exploiting women, at least that is the stereotype, was Bruno really one of them? Sweet, kind, generous, optimistic Bruno who you adored being around? The same Bruno who always helped anyone he saw? Who showed the utmost respect for all the older citizens and acted with integrity? You 100% believed that not everyone involved in crime is inherently bad, many people fall into it at low points of their lives, you knew that Bruno was a good man, regardless of his affiliation with the group.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno let go of you. “I knew this was a mistake, I should have just listened to Abbacchio and stopp-”

“Bruno,” You placed a hand on his, making him lose his train of thought, “I’m not upset that you’re in Passione.” You whispered, interlocking your fingers with his. “I don’t think less of you for it, I know that people can be put in situations that make them choose that path,” your eyes darted to the side, “but I believe you’re a good person Bruno, I really do. I’m not exactly in the safest position as a woman in a foreign country, but I feel so safe with you Bruno, regardless of Passione.” You meant everything you said, keeping your eyes locked on him to show your sincerity. “I-”

Before you could speak, Bruno’s lips were on yours.

His hand remained holding yours, though squeezing slightly tighter now, while his free hand held the side of your face. His lips were soft against yours as his thumb pressed against your cheekbone. Slowly he pulled away, rubbing his nose against yours slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise, really.” You squeezed his hand gently.

Bruno’s hand found itself fitting perfectly in the curve of your waist. “I want to be with you y/n, not just for this trip.” His voice was shaky, he tried his best to not push too hard. “It’s okay for you to say no, it is.”

“I want to be with you too Bruno, I really do.” Without thinking, your hand moved up to hold the side of his neck, feeling the heat radiating off him before moving down to his shoulder. “Can I ask, Bruno…why are you with them?”

He took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to say. Bruno never liked talking about this incident, he never told anyone this story, not even his old girlfriends. “My father was in an accident when he was 12. He was in the hospital and one night some people tried to…to kill him.” The sympathetic look in your eyes made it easier for him to talk. “He wasn’t in a gang or anything, he was just an ordinary person. I was in the room when they snuck in, two men, I-” His words got trapped in his throat.  “I killed them.” He could tell from the small changes in your breathing, your posture, the glint in your eyes, that despite keeping an open mind about Passione, you couldn’t fully wrap your head around him being tied to murder. “If I didn’t they would have killed my father and come after me, there was nothing else I could do.” He begged, pleading for you to at least hear him out, scared that you would leave him after such a confession. “I had to go underground, I can’t do anything with something like that on my record.” The silence that followed was deafening, the sound of his heartbeat rang through his ears as his chest heaved slowly.

“It’s okay Bruno…it really is.” You whispered, “You’re the first person to know this and not run away or use me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships. You’re the first person I’ve been able to actually feel happy with, Bruno, the first person to actually make me feel like you care.”

“Of course, I care about you bella, you mean the most to me. I hate that people have treated you that way, you deserve everything I could possibly give you and more…everything.”

The rest of dinner carried on smoothly, with Bruno’s seat much closer to yours and his hand resting on your knee. His eyes were more focused on you than the delicious food in front of him. His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest as your leg brushed up against him and your perfume wafted into his nose. Bruno really did think you were beautiful, the way your dark hair fell to your shoulders, contrasting your crimson dress. How your cheeks turned rosy when you laughed, or your tendency to fiddle with the hem of your clothing when you were tired. There had always been something in him that knew he had feelings towards you, but kissing you, even though it was brief, solidified his feelings.

Neither of you pushed any further about the kiss, nor did you talk about your beat-around-the-bush confessions. Instead, once dinner was over, you made your way back to the hotel silently.

“I guess I will see you in the morning then?” Bruno asked, letting out a soft laugh as you stood in front of your respective doors.

“Yeah, I guess I will.” You smiled as you waved each other goodbye. It wasn’t until you had both returned to your rooms that you were able to release the tension in your body. The kiss still lingered on your lips as you pulled your night shirt over your head and you could feel your face get warmer. You couldn’t deny that the idea of him kissing you was something buried in the back of your mind, especially when he would hold you in close embraces and his natural scent would waft into your nose. There was a part of you that wanted to continue, that wanted to go to his room and lie with him on this warm evening in Amalfi. To feel what it would be like for him to hold you in his arms as more than just a friend. You shook your head, feeling like a young teenager having their first kiss.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention to the TV opposite your bed and flicked through the channels, landing on what looked like a random soap opera. By your bed was a small menu with all the items available for room service and decided on a jug of lemonade to cool you down. When there was a knock just two minutes later, you were a little surprised by the speed of service. You were even more surprised by seeing Bruno standing by your door.

Bruno had been standing outside your door for the past five minutes, contemplating knocking on your door. Would he be intruding? Jumping to conclusions over a simple kiss?

Ah, but it wasn’t a simple kiss was it, you had confessed your feelings to each other.

But you only had three more days in Naples, maybe this was your way of getting some sort of closure, getting your feelings out on the table before you disappear and never cross paths again. Even on the off chance that anything came from this, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be weird for him to approach you like this.

While Bruno reasoned this in his head, his body had other plans. It wasn’t until you swung the door open that he realised he had already knocked. 

“Hi,” He swallowed, awkwardly placing his hands behind his back. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You shook your head as you opened the door wider, welcoming him into your room. “No no, I just haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Me neither.” He perched on the edge of the desk, watching the television next to it. “What are you watching?”

“I have no idea, I couldn’t figure out how to put it in English.” The silence from both of you overpowered the noise from the TV. Usually you would bounce off each other better, but the events at dinner seemed to leave you both somewhat shy. Deep down, you both wanted more, but neither of you had the confidence to make the first move.

Bruno walked over to you, sitting next to you on your bed, knee brushing against yours.

“Y/n…” He started, taking your hand in his, “I meant everything I said earlier, about how I feel about you.” His slender fingers traced the lines of your palm slowly. “In a perfect world, I’d want you to be with you, properly. But I know that you have to go back home soon, I understand if this has to end here.”

“It doesn’t have to.” The words spilt out of your mouth before you could even process them properly. “I mean…I can always come back, maybe sometimes you can visit me.” A long-distance relationship wasn’t something you ever really thought you would find yourself pursuing, but you couldn’t miss this opportunity with Bruno.

“I like that idea.” Bruno smiled, interlocking his fingers with yours before ducked down for another kiss, this one was shorter and sweeter, the type that gives you a warm feeling in yout gut. It was like a bridge had formed between the two of you and any worries about intimacy had been crossed out. “Out of curiosity, when are you next free?” His enthusiasm made you giggle.

You tapped your chin, recalling what you discussed with your boss before you left for Italy. “I have to use up my holidays within the next three months, maybe I can come back before they’re over.” You grinned widely, enjoying the way he his face softened at your words.

“Can’t you stay a little longer? Use up your holidays now?” He pulled you onto his lap, kissing all over your face. His demeanour had suddenly changed, knowing that he might only have to wait a couple of months to see the woman he cared so much about. You giggled as you held his broad shoulders, squeezing them lightly as you tried to pull him away from your face. He ducked down to nibble where your neck connected to your head, trying to coax you into staying.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I can’t afford it Bruno, and besides, I signed papers with my boss saying I would be back to work next week.” You felt him sigh against your neck.

“How much more time do you have left to use on holidays?”

“10 days I think.”

“I’ll book you a flight.”

“Bruno!” You pulled away, pinching his soft cheek “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do bella, but I just think it’s easier to book now that the prices are cheaper.” He wrapped his arms tighter around your form. It didn’t take long for his lips to fall back on yours, moving between them and your neck, only to be broken by a knock on your door.

“So sorry for the wait signorina, the machine wasn’t working.” The waiter apologised profusely as he placed your lemonade on the table.

“It’s no problem, thank you.” You smiled, closing the door behind him. You both shared a few glasses of the cool drink, talking more about the possibility of you coming back to Naples. Despite his earlier energetic behaviour, Bruno was quite understanding of the situation. He knew that compromises would have to be made and that things may not always work out, but regardless, he chose to be optimistic about the situation.

Once the jug’s contents had been thoroughly depleted, you found yourselves tucked under your bedsheets. You didn’t realise how tired you were until you fell asleep so quickly against his soft t-shirt, to the sound of his heartbeat. Cool air blew through the window, making you press up against him in your sleep as his hands moved down to hold your waist. Bruno’s heart was pounding like it wanted to leap right out of his ribcage. Being here, holding you, this was all he wanted. For the first time in so long, he felt like he was happy again, like you were the one for him. He gave up on this feeling ages ago, not wanting to risk another heartbreak, but now he couldn’t resist it.

He was in love.

**************************************************

Sunday was quite simple. Breakfast at a lovely little cafe, a bike ride through Sorrento and lunch back at the hotel. This was certainly not the first time you and Bruno had gone out together, but this time was different. The way he held your hand, your waist, hugged you, everything felt different now, a good type of different.

This “good different” continued to Monday and Tuesday, with Bruno being even more of a gentleman to you. He made sure to cherish every moment with you like he was making up for lost time.

The sun peeked through the window, highlighting your body as you hummed in your sleep. Bruno had been awake for a while now, the lump in his throat and the twists in his stomach making it harder to enjoy the warm summer morning.

Today was your last day, the last time he would be able to see you for who knows how long. He always knew you would leave, Naples wasn’t your home after all, and there is a chance it may never be. But now that the dreaded day had come, it just made his chest ache to the point where it made his head spin.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your back was pressed against him, allowing him to nuzzle into your neck. You groaned quietly, fidgeting in your sleep before settling once more. Bruno used this as an opportunity to place a kiss on your neck, enjoying the sweet natural scent emanating from your body. He slid his other arm under your body, hugging you properly as your legs tangled together under his sheets.

“Bruno…” You grinned, feeling the pressure of his body against you as he had you in a tight embrace. “I need my sleep you know?” You patted the side of his face lightly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his soft cheek.

His heart hurt even more hearing your voice, knowing this would be the last time he would hear it in person. “y/n…” He whispered, holding your hand gently in his, bringing it down to the soft mattress and interlocking your fingers with his. “When is your flight?” He mumbled into your neck, eyes locked on his thumb stroking your skin.

You inhaled sharply, realising why his tone had been so mellow this morning. “6 pm, there’s been a car arranged.” You bit your bottom lip, feeling Bruno lean away from you with a deep sigh. His arms left your body cold air hit your back.

“I’ll come with you, I’ll see you off at security.” Bruno said, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You turned around to face him, watching the sun highlight the lower half of his face and chest, coating them in a pale yellow glaze. His lips were downturned slightly, forming an involuntary frown as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression made your heart sink to your stomach, you knew you would miss him so much.

You scooched closer, resting a head on his flattened shoulder as your fingers traced his chest gently. “I’ll come back Bruno,” You dragged your fingers down to his navel. “I promise.” You looked up at him, catching how his eyes shifted from you as soon as you made eye contact, realising that you caught him staring. His cheekbones were softly dusted with pink as he cleared his throat.

“I know you will, and I’ll find time to visit you.” He cupped the side of your face, “but you can’t blame me for being a little upset that you’re leaving.”

“I know, I am too.” You gave a half-smile, holding his wrist. Seeing you frown made his heart sink even more, it wasn’t his intention to dampen the mood so early in the morning.

“Y/n, why don’t we go to Libeccio? For your last meal here?” Bruno asked. Ending the trip with the place you met seemed perfect. It also gave Bruno the opportunity to make sure you received the best service possible.

“I’d love to.”

You both laid in bed for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth until noon when you finally got up for lunch. You wore a simple sundress with a red flower pattern along it, something that Bruno absolutely adored on you. Hand in hand, you left his home for the restaurant, deciding to have one last walk through the streets you grew to love. Libeccio was slightly quieter than usual, what with it being lunchtime on a Wednesday, this at least made it easier to talk to each other.

“Oh? If it isn’t the two lovebirds!” A familiar voice called, you looked up to see Mista leaning on the back of Bruno’s chair, much to his dismay, poking his nose into his menu. Bruno had made the mistake of being open to the group about his feelings for you, this ultimately left him vulnerable to childish teasing which would surely get worse when you weren’t around. “Y/n, Bucciarati says you’re leaving today?”

“Mhm, I need to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

“Ah, this one will certainly miss you,” He nudged Bruno with his elbow, “he goes on and on about you all the time anyways.” He scoffed.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Bruno asked, not bothering to look up from the menu.

“I actually came to collect an order,” He lifted up the black bag in his hand, that explained the sudden smell of shrimp. “But I might as well give Y/n a goodbye hug.” Mista walked towards you, pulling you out of your seat and hugging you tightly. Bruno knew what Mista was doing by pressing his palms on your lower back and hugging you for much longer than what was needed. But it was in his nature to tease people like that, after all, you and Mista grew to be quite good friends, and you both knew he was playing around. “Make sure to come back soon!” Mista waved as he left the restaurant.

Bruno turned back to you to see a smirk across your lips. “What?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Your face when Mista hugged me, I didn’t think it would get to you.” You laughed, flicking through the calzones section of the menu.

“Can you blame me for being a little jealous?” Bruno sighed, closing his menu and placing it on the table. He waved at one of the waiters, a tall, slender young man with long wavy hair, eager to take your orders.

Over lunch, you discussed plans for when you went back home: how to fit your schedules around each other, the possibility of sending each other gifts, and Bruno travelling to visit you. The thoughts alone brought butterflies to your stomach, the idea of Bruno being in your home, visiting your favourite places, your family and friends even. You already had a list of things to do with him buried at the back of your mind.

Once the plates were cleared and the bill was paid, you found yourselves in a small park, wandering along the footpaths that weaved along the luscious green grass, between the thick oak trees.

“Y/n…we need to get to the airport soon.” Bruno whispered, pulling your waist towards him as he sandwiched you between him and an old tree.

“Mhm.” You rest your head on his shoulder in a warm embrace, his rich cologne flooding your nose with a scent you would soon miss.

“Y/n…mi bella.” The pet name made your heart well up. “I know we haven’t been together for a long time but…the feelings I have for you, it’s like I-”

“I know what you mean Bruno.” You cut him off quietly, tugging his soft cotton shirt. You felt the same way Bruno did, the tingles you got when he held your hand, the way your body perfectly moulded into his, how your stomach twisted and turned anytime he looked you in the eye. Somehow, somewhere, along the line, you realised that you had fallen in love with the kind mafioso that swept you off your feet.

“So you love me too bella?” Bruno asked, a teasing tone to his words as his lips met your forehead.

You rolled your eyes playfully, enjoying how his soft lips felt against your skin. “Well if I have to put it in words, then yes.”

Bruno’s heart pounded in his chest, he could feel the shakiness in his breathing from the relief of knowing that you felt the same way he did. It was almost laughable how quickly the chains around his heart loosened when you appeared. How his vows to never give in to another person were discarded as he got closer and closer to you. You were perfect to him, everything he wanted and more, and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without letting you know how much power you had over him and his weak heart.

“Bella, I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Please remember that, always, even if I’m not there with you.”

“I love you too Bruno, truly I do. I haven’t felt this way with anyone in so long I-” Bruno’s lips pressed gently against yours, stealing your breath away.

“I’m sorry to cut you off but you just look so cute, why do you have to leave today bella, stay here with me a little longer.” He groaned, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, knowing how much he would miss this.

“Believe me, I want that more than anything, but I have to go back, Bruno.” The thought of not being able to hold him like this, to not stroke his soft black hair or look into his warm eyes, ate away at you.

“We should probably head to the airport soon then.”

Within the hour, you were at the airport, waiting in the busy queue to check in your luggage, while Bruno held you from behind, chin resting on your head. You ended up with one extra bag, filled with gifts for your friends and family: trinkets, snacks, clothing, as well as things that Bruno bought you.

“When you land, let me know okay?” Bruno hugged you one last time, his hands memorising the curve of your body, ingraining everything from your scent to the softness of your skin in his memory. His lips moved to kiss your forehead gently, “Y/n…I won’t pretend like I’m not going to miss you every day. I want us to work out bella, I’ll take time to visit you whenever I can okay?” The slight sniffles and breaks in his voice made your heart sink. Bruno loved you so much, more than he could contain, and you felt the same way about him as you inhaled his rich cologne.

“Bruno, I’ll miss you just as much, if not, more.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back mi amore.” Hearing you use that name on him made his stomach twist and turn. Being called that, by you, in your voice that soothed his soul made his heart beat even faster. At that point, he just had to steal another kiss from you, a passionate one that stuck on your lips even after you pulled away.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, letting you cross the barrier to find your gate, and with tears welling in both of your eyes, you waved each other goodbye, thankful for this spontaneous trip that brought the two of you together.

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Always Something Underneath

Chapter 3 - Sips of Chamomile

Lucifer x Fem!reader (prostitute character w/ accent)

Content warning: slow burn, writing an accent, quick proofread, reader death, reader revival, choking,

Chapter Summary: Always having done what you need to survive and get ahead, you take a job that has a lingering consequences. While trying to recover though, Lucifer notices.

Word Count: 3443

Chapter 1 𖤐 Chapter 2 𖤐 Chapter 3 (You are Here) 𖤐 Chapter 4 𖤐 Chapter 5 (WIP)

Dieing was awful. You knew that. Death had taken you, both willingly and maliciously, a multitude of different ways since you had plunged yourself into the depths of hell. It had just been so long since you had died last, your memory had somehow forgotten or glossed over just how taxing it was; the exhaustion -physically and mentally-, the adrenaline crash leaving every limb involuntarily shaking, not to mention the painful healing process. The painstaking and searing rebuilding of your body. The scorching brand of your sinner status. 

Your neck ached from holding up your head up, the ring of bruising hardly the worst of your pain. The slightest swallow unleashed a burning sensation that cascaded up towards your jaw and simultaneously down into your torso. Each breath harrowing despite it being shallow, your stenosed trachea screaming at every intake. The slightest movement, jerk, or muscle contraction evoking excruciating consequences. 

The pay was worth it. A weeks worth of clients covered by a single death. A price worth the prize. At least, that was what you told yourself. Over. And over. And over.

Who were you kidding?

It was unequivocally a boon that was insufficiently compensated by the price.

Your feet dragged as you marched onwards. The usual clack of your heels now a scraping, not that anyone cast you a second glance. Vigilantly, you surveyed your path alert for other hotel residents. The arduous task of having to dance around a conversation without your voice, draining you at just the thought. Explaining the experience you just endured, let alone why, wasn’t something you were equipped to even muddle through at the moment.

As the hotel came into view, your body relaxed a little. The thought of climbing into your bed, caccooning yourself in your favorite blanket, and passing out again kept your feet moving. You choked up at the sense of safety you knew you would find which sent a ripple of pain through you.

You just had to make it through the lobby.

Carefully, you wrapped a semi-sheer scarf around your throat as you walked towards home to mask the black and blue remnants of your work; tight enough it wouldn’t slump down but loose enough it wasn’t inflicting further pain on you. A pair of sunglasses in addition to it to hide your sunken, pale eyes that hadn’t yet recovered from your revival. You fixed the rest of your attire to make it less apparent you hadn’t dressed in a flurry, finishing just as you approached the door.

You stopped and took a quick, agonizing breath before pushing it open as slowly and quietly as you could. Thankfully, the boisterous crew over at the bar hadn’t spotted you as you let the door close with a soft ‘thunk’. You bee lined for the stairs. Someone hollered your name out as you strode with intent, which you figured would happen since you had gotten into the habit of having a drink when you got off work, but you quickly dismissed it with a polite wave as you kept moving. You heard your name once more in fading volume as you ascended the stairs, thankful that it didn’t seem like they were chasing after you.

Of course, who would have? Never in your life or afterlife would have never thought you’d be thankful for that.

Your speed didn’t waver once you were past the lobby and only as you stood in front of your door did it force you to stop. Your hands adeptly retrieving your keys and unlocking the gate to refuge. You nearly fell over as the door unlocked and hastily relented to your demand for entry. As the door lurched inwards, the effort to save yourself falling resulted in a seizing pain as your head lulled and the neck muscles flexed out of reflex. Your mouth opened for a soundless scream as tears prickled your eyes. The reaction itself further inflicting a second bout of agony. You kicked your heels off and slammed the door closed. 

In a flurry you undressed, bearing the shooting pain before crawling into bed with your phone in hand and curling up in your blankets. You began fiddling with the pillow which took some time. Finding a comfortable position that supported yet didn’t over extend the neck turned out to be quite the conundrum. Not impossible though. Once you had finally found a tolerable way to lay, your body began to unwind. Your eyes grew heavy as the tension eased from you, exhaustion lapping at your consciousness. Beckoning you to slumber and you eagerly obeyed, your eyes drifting shut before slipping into oblivion.

𖤐

The awakening that greeted you the next morning was arduous. Your body heavy with fatigue with your aching throat screaming for relief while your stomach simultaneously twisted and turned, tearing at your gut in protest of the unintentional fasting you had inflicted upon yourself. You emitted a whimper at the ailments foisted upon you first thing. The parched throat and exhaustion were things you could have turned a blind eye on in lue of returning to your slumber. Your stomach’s fit was far too much to bare.

Carefully, you tested how your throat reacted with a tentative swallow. It protested with a burning sensation but, it wasn’t as horrendous as it had been the day prior. The next test was a slow turning of your head. It was intensely stiff and it shot the sensation of pins and needles across your shoulders and upper back but, it didn’t reduce you to tears. You took a tentative deep breath, or two, before you pushed yourself up. You took pause, closing your eyes to determine the damage; feeling the aches and pains. Every infliction. 

You could make it to the kitchen and back as you were. Slowly you hoisted yourself up and fetched a loose dress and another scarf from your closet, dawning them both before beginning your quest. 

It still seemed to be early morning. The hotel eerily quiet with it’s occupants still slumbering from their late nights. Except for Niffty. You could hear her giggling somewhere in the distance, likely roach hunting, which made the haunting stillness all the more foreboding. With a quickened pace, you found yourself in the kitchen rather quickly. Niffty’s giggles barely audible now which eased some of your tension. 

Boiling water for a chamomile tea the first task you set about before turning your attention to determining what you should eat. Scouring the cupboards and fridge, the only tolerable foods seemed to be applesauce, Nilla wafers which you figured could soak in your tea, or maybe ramen if you overcooked the noodles. None of it sounded appealing. As your stomach raged, you decided a little bit of applesauce and wafers would do though. 

The assemblage of wafers on a small plate and applesauce in a bowel came together just as the water started boiling. A flick of the wrist turned off the stove and as you sought out the mug you wanted. Like nails on a chalkboard you heard from behind you, “Goooood morning. Please grab me a mug as well.”

A glance over your shoulder revealed Lucifer waltzing into the kitchen already made up for his day. His eyes bright with his practiced smile gracing his lips. As if he had already been awake for hours.

Fuck.

You hummed out a soft ‘mhm,’ to at least acknowledge him as you pulled a second mug out and turned away from him to grab a teabag. You paused a moment, glancing back at him after feeling his eyes boring into you, finding him doing just that. Normally you would already offered a good morning and would have asked if he was having tea but, you hadn’t tested your voice yet and were, admittedly, a little afraid to. You quickly tried to recall how long had it taken last time to get your voice back; as if you really could remember. 

Rather, you held up the bag of chamomile tea in your hand at him. He blinked a second and shook his head, “Oh no thank you. I’m more of a black tea drinker myself.”

You quickly smiled and nodded at him, grabbing an earl gray tea bag to hand off. His brows knitted together as you turned back to your own tea and quickly combined the bag and water before turning to him and putting water into his mug, leaving him to unwrap and soak how own.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning.”

You laughed softly at your situation, though it worked for his comment as well you supposed, realizing the afterlife wasn’t going to cut you another break. No, your luck had run out yesterday with getting through the lobby. Carefully, you blew on your basically still just hot water and took a small sip before clearing your throat to respond in a raspy, forced crackle, “Yeah, well, jus’ dealin’ with a lil’ som’in.”

Lucifer’s face contorted; brows pinched painfully tight together, his frown slanted asymmetrically making his eye squint, as his head tilted. You couldn’t stop another soft giggle from burbling up, the expression tickled you. At least until his eyes flitted down to your scarf and the expression slid from his face. 

In your hurry to appease your stomach’s tantrum, the scarf hadn’t been as well secured as you had thought. During your journey, it had slid down just enough to reveal a small band of bruising. He took a second to process the glimpse he caught before his eyes shot up; pupils dilated making him look a little crazed. “Are you okay? What happened? Was it one of the people you saw at work?” The words flooded out, frantic and panicked.

Quickly, you held up a hand, promptly halting any further grilling. “Nawt… here. Please.”

You pick up your plate and tilted your head towards the door, beckoning him to follow, before you made your way towards one of the many parlor rooms Charlie had designated for groups or social gatherings. Most people didn’t use them outside of those. The one you led him to was your favorite. It was located on the second floor, not particularly far from the kitchen, and had a set of perfectly worn club chairs with an accompanying shared end table between. Both of which faced a floor to ceiling window that overlooked the streets below. There were plenty of other seats to claim with several other sofas, tables, and arrangements set up but, you enjoyed being able to people watch.

Claiming one of the seats, you made yourself comfortable after setting your plate and cup down. Lucifer apprehensively followed suit. As he sat, you carefully grabbed your now properly steeped tea and took a sip finally finding able to take a full, flavorful taste that finally soothed some of the ache in your throat. After the moment of temporary relief passed, you opened your eyes to find him waiting.

“So…” he probed gently as you picked up a wafer to dip into your tea to soften, “what’s going on?” His fingers drummed on his mug before he too took a slow tentative sip of his piping hot tea.

Deferring your answer, you look away. Your full attention going to the wafer as it soaked up the chamomile flavor. Just as it started to crumble, you hoisted it to your mouth where it promptly fell apart with little effort or mastication. Finally, you tempted a swallow followed by another small sip of tea, pleasantly surprised to find your body amenable to this tactic. 

Your eyes met his again and were surprised to see him patiently waiting. It made you feel bad. Here he was worrying about you. Giving you space to gather yourself. To prepare. It was hell after all. Stories of being assaulted was just another Tuesday for a good number of people. Yet your truth wasn’t so tragic. You take a breath and rip the metaphorical bandaid off. “It was werk. People aw willin’ ta pay ta kill someone sometimes an’ they pay a pretty penny. I jus’ gawta heal up from it. There ain’t nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.”

Your voice sounded stronger now though talking still worked healing muscles and punished you for it. You sought out a sip of tea again, admonishing yourself for not procuring honey. You paused drinking when you heard a quiet, “Why?”

“Why… what?” you raspily counter over the rim of the cup, studying his expression. Trying to glean any information you could.

“Why did you do it?” he gave you nothing. His face relaxed. Any emotions that warred within him shielded behind a mask of impassiveness. “You mentioned when we first properly met you were just keeping the job to protect your reputation should redemption fall through. Why would you go to that extreme?”

Why did his lack of emotions dig at you so deeply?

Someone walking down along the street caught your attention through the window and you looked to them. Your eyes glued as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. As you watched them though you did think about it. Money really had been the answer to his why but, he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t actually need it at this point. During your stay you had accumulated quite the nest egg and stashed it away. Yet you had still jumped at the opportunity to make more money despite your newfound security.

“I… I think it’s cause I’m still sawta stuck in survival mode. Maybe. I dunno.” you stop a moment to clear your throat and shrug. Looking down to your tea, your thumb caressing the side of the mug. “It just…seemed supa easy. I died befoa so it didn’ seem lika big deal an’ the money is pretty nice. Can neva have ‘nough. Ya know?”

You look up to Lucifer, realized he was the king of hell, and giggled out at the absurdity of your failed epiplexis as well as to break the tension. “Well, I suppose maybe nawt. King a hell an awll. Don’ seem like the sort that gawta worry ‘bout that kinda thing.”

A long drink eased the ache again before you picked up another wafer to dunk, noting your throat felt worlds better.

“If redeeming everyone falls through, we aren’t just going to abandon everyone.”

Lucifer was looking out the window as he spoke. When your attention snapped to him, he seemed adrift in his thoughts. It was as if you were peering at a painting capturing this intimate moment in time. On hand was on his cane that was draped across his lap while the other held the handle of the mug on the table. One leg crossed over the other as he leaned all the way back. The soft red glow of pride ring illuminating his pearlescent skin with soft hints of neon accenting his jawline and brow bones from the business signs across the street. Yet his hat cast a shadow across his eyes that, in your interpretation, made him seem tired. Forlorn. 

When he turned to you, the small smile he gave made your heart squeeze. Your breath caught in your throat as your chest tightened. The uncomfortable clenching something you hadn’t felt in… how long? You hadn’t felt it during your sinner life. Having lost yourself in the feeling a moment too long, by the time you tore your eyes off of him you found the wafer you had been soaking, had fallen apart in your fingers and disappeared to the bottom of your mug.

“Charlie wouldn’t do that.” A whispered utterance. The small smile remained on his lips as he sipped his tea and looked back outside. Dawning the same expression from before.

Staring at the sunken wafer as his words processed, the silence that lingered was something of comfort. Slowly, you leaned back in your chair and looked outside with him. More people were beginning to pass by as the morning wore on.

“It’s hawd.” His head cocked slightly and he turned just enough to look towards you comfortably. You remained quiet though, watching the people outside. Someone began yelling at another person which suddenly escalated to fists being thrown. You heard Lucifer ‘tsk’ and noted the shake of his head from your peripheral. 

“What do you mean?” he finally inquired as he turned away from the skirmish.

You looked away from the brawl as well, meeting his eyes when you finally did speak, “Ta rely awn someone. ‘specially dahn here. I know ya Mornin’staws ah, quite literally, a different breed an seem ta mean what ya say but… it doesn’ stahp the emotional walls from bein’ up. From feelin’ like… ya still the only one who’ll take cara ya.” A quick sip soothed your throat again, “Can’t stahp mah’self from wonderin’ when the otha shoe’ll drop.”

You offer a small smile at him. Lucifer was gazing down at the floor though and seemed to be processing what you were saying. “Just… gonna take time. Ya know?”

Lucifer slowly looked up to you before returning the smile and nodding. His eyes slipped to the scarf for a moment before he tore his eyes away from it. It made you swallow out of reflex. You wondered for a moment if he would be willing to heal your throat but, thought better of it. You already owed him a favor and you really didn’t want him thinking you were spending time with him just because he could do something for you. 

No. You had known the consequences when you did it and were willing to accept them. That was part of this whole redemption thing wasn’t it? Accepting you fucked up. Seeking forgiveness for your wrongdoings. Letting people support you and giving you the grace to be better.

Gently, you reach your foot across the expanse between the two of you and nudge his leg with a playful bump. “Thank ya, dowll.”

“Thank you? For what?” Lucifer asked, a little surprised having shot a look at your foot before up to you again.

“For carin’. I know I prattle awn so, for listen’ as well.”

Lucifer blinked. Slowly, his face eased into an expression you couldn’t peg. It almost looked like a combination of amusement and pity but, by the way he chuckled out neither of those seemed quite right. “You’re quite welcome.” He glanced a way for a moment and then back.

“Do you think…” he took a breath and his mouth hung open a moment, the words stuck. He then seemed to think better of it and shook his head and let out a ‘hmm’ as he indulged in his tea.

Tilting your head, you smirked at him. “Cat got’cha tongue? Guess there gotta be a first time for every for everything but, ya don’t need ta clam up ‘round me, cheeks.”

Lucifer’s brows furrowed at the new nickname. “Cheeks?”

A raised brow at him and a moment to think on it didn’t seem to spark any idea on where the name came from so you lightly tapped your own cheek where his rosey red circles would have been on your face if you dawned them. He scoffed out and shook a head with a bemused roll of his eyes. “Told ya that ya opened a can-a-worms.” you laughed out, finishing off your tea leaving the crumbled wafer at the bottom.

“You’ve certainly been true to your word.” Lucifer grinned, giving you the same look from earlier you couldn’t quite figure out. It made your chest tighten.

Voices off in the distance echoed into the room, both yourself and Lucifer turning slightly at the sound. Lucifer sucked in a breath and stood up. “Thank you for the pleasant chat and for being honest with me about,” he motioned to your neck, “your ailment. I…”

He hesitated as he stood there a moment, his hand clamping down on his cane. “I do hope… you can begin to feel like you can depend upon us.” he turned and smiled, almost as if he had wanted to say ‘me’ before he had a thought and laughed out nervously at it, “I mean ‘us’ as in here at the hotel. Everyone at the hotel. Like Charlie! And Mag-, I mean Vaggie! So you don’t feel like you HAVE to do…that again.”

He wheezed, coughed, and cleared his throat. His practiced smile plastered again on his face again. “Thank you for the company.”

“I’ll see ya ‘round Luci babe.” you giggled out as he briskly retreated, leaving you to finish your snacks before making your own retreat back to your room for the rest of the day.