Quick lil note before we begin: THIS IS A REWRITE OF A CRINGY STORY I WROTE AS A TEEN. IT WAS BAD. VERY VERY BAD. IF YOU STILL LIKE IT... I DUNNO HOW
Anyways this is both a rewrite and a re-imagining. I fix, not only grammatical errors, but plot errors and things I just think didn't fit right upon re-reading. Story beats and interactions have been changed around, but as a whole, the overarching story will be pretty similar to the original.
I won't be deleting the original, I'll leave it up, but don't burn your eyes too hard while reading the cringy writing of an edgy fourteen-year-old who thought staying up until 3 am was the peak of my existence.
Anyways, this has a mature filter on it cause y'know... murder and thievin' and it's only the first chapter and I vaguely mention sex so...
READER BEWARE, CONTENT WARNINGS: this chapter doesn't go too in-depth into anything, discusses minor injuries and the death of a minor character off-screen. as the story progresses, the action will as well, and things will become explicit. I'll put warnings at the top of chapters I think could be very distressing, but as you read just be warned that I could mention icky gross body stuff at any point light getting shot or stabbed or bla bla bla
Anyways I'll shut up now. Have fun re-meeting Nightowl:
...
"I need a room for two nights, floor level, far away from the lobby if that's alright."
The receptionist who'd been typing away at her desktop looks startled when you slam a fistful of twenty-dollar bills onto the countertop. Three empty cups of coffee are strewn on her workspace and there're deep bags beneath her eyes. Her gaze flicks between the cash and your face, before her lips quirk into a very forced customer service smile.
"A-alright," she replies cautiously, taking the money from your hand and storing it behind the counter.
"Cash is fine to pay with?" you reply, but it was less of a question. You weren't actually asking if it was alright or not, you didn't care, and you weren't giving her a choice either. She'd take the money whether she liked it or not.
"Yes, it's quite alright, it's just we usually take credit numbers to file the room's under. Makes the um... filing process easier," she explains, pulling up a page on her computer screen to assign a vacant room to you in the system.
"Eh, I'm sure that dandy computer there could do all the sorting for you," you chuckle, casually adjusting the strap of the duffle bag on your shoulder.
"Right..." she mumbles, "anyways, I'll need a name for the room, miss...?"
"Smith. Sarah Smith," you answer.
A fake name. You weren't dumb enough to give out your real one, not with your career anyways.
"Alright Miss Smith, and may I see some identification?" the receptionist asks again, typing your information into the system.
You dig into your pocket and pull out a fake ID you'd gotten printed a few cities ago, you never liked to keep the same name for too long.
Quickly flashing the card at her, she barely glances before nodding her head, and you're quick to pocket it before she decides to look too closely and realize that the woman on the card doesn't quite resemble you fully.
After a few moments, she reaches into a drawer and hands you a key with a small card on the ring, a number 107 scrawled onto the old, cracked plastic in permanent ink.
"Just go down that hall, it's the last room on the left side," she instructs, pointing to the right side of the building, "there's a mini-fridge with water bottles and complimentary toiletries in the bathroom, please enjoy your stay."
YOU ARE READING
Fight or Flight | 2p Hetalia x Reader
FanfictionA criminal on the run, moving constantly between states, performing heists after heists, and stirring fear in every city and town she passed through. Authorities have dubbed her Nightowl. A band of peculiar men, each with their own secrets and dark...
