#voidsaddiction

But does anyone else feel like marvel is just trying to shove Natasha’s death down our throats. It’s heart breaking. The scenes of yelena in the future, the whole BW movie, and even the mentions of her in the other new shows just rubs salt in the wound.

My heart hurts.

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard X Reader

Summary/Prompt: Billie Dean Howard meets the reader while she’s visiting The Hotel Cortez, and the reader ends up saving her.

Warnings: Death, This story like any story on my page is not intended for minors, even if the content is not explicit. If you are under 18 DNI.

Word count: 3,773

A/N: I’m finally done!! I know it took a few days to get out but here is the Billie Dean fic that I’ve been working on. This is the first story I am publishing on my public account, and honestly, I am nervous as fuckk. I hope you guys like it!

Billie Dean Howard strutted into The Hotel Cortez with her usual level of flair and confidence, both of which she feigned tentatively. In one hand, she gripped a small overnight bag tightly in hopes that no one or nothing taking residence in this god-forsaken place would notice the slight tremble. Of course, she would never admit it out loud, but the blonde was apprehensive about visiting the famed residence. The rumors and warnings that surrounded the place had gotten to her head.

This was not the first Hellmouth that Billie Dean had been to, having visited another close by many times. Despite this, the minute that she walked in, she could feel the difference. The very air in this building was different. Somehow it was much more suffocating than the haunted Los Angeles home she regularly frequented. The whispers in the walls became louder with each step that she took, evidence of the many who had met their unfortunate end here.

The hotel manager had requested the famed medium’s talents on behalf of her dear friend. Iris had been working with Liz Taylor since the death of her son in ninety-four. As the years went by and guests came and went (and died), the two of them stayed working together. Then Liz, by some miracle, met the love of her life in this hellhole. But, sadly, their bliss was short-lived. The hotel’s fate tragically struck, and before they had a chance to be together, he was killed.

Iris was standing behind the front desk when Billie Dean walked up, her heels clicking across the uncarpeted strip of the lobby floor. That sound caused the shorter woman to look up from behind the thick frames of her glasses. The moment she recognized who the new guest was, Iris perked up, quickly moving to greet the well-manicured blonde.

“Miss. Howard,” The appreciative manager greeted her as the two women shook hands. “I am truly grateful that you came out. Liz is a close personal friend of mine, and you may be the only person who can be of any help.”

“Of course. I can’t promise anything, but we’ll see what I can do.” This was a typical confident response for Billie, yet this time she was unsure if she would be able to do anything to help. The darkness felt as if it was leaking from the cracks in the walls. As if death itself had been built into the bones of the building. It would be difficult hearing any single spirit in a place filled with so much grief.

There was a large part of her that desperately wanted to turn and run, a part rooted in logic and reasoning. Yet something else drew her in, demanded that she stay. It wasn’t curiosity that kept the medium from turning on her heels, nor was it greed. Instead, it was a feeling in her chest, almost as if she was meant to be there.

“I believe Liz is off any moment now; if it’s okay with you, I could bring her by your room after you get settled.” The hotel manager turned to grab a key, making sure it belonged to a room on one of the hotel’s ‘safer’ floors. This woman was doing them a favor; the least Iris could do was keep some of the less friendly residents like Sally and March off her back.

Billie agreed to this, eager to take a moment to try to relax. She took the room key from Iris before making her way over towards the elevator. The ride up was quick, and the blonde remained stiff until she made her way down the hallway. Once she was in the safety of her recently remodeled room, Billie Dean leaned back against the door. She ran her hands gently through her curls as she let out a shaky breath, taking a moment to compose herself before looking around the room.

The hotel had recently undergone a massive remodel earlier this year since the ownership of the Cortez had been transferred over to Iris and Liz Taylor. The two women had spent the last few years renovating the haunted old rooms, but a fresh coat of paint and some new linens were not enough to cover the feeling of death that seeped from the walls. The only way to rid this property of the evil rooted in it would be to tear it down, but the residents would never allow that.

Billie Dean Howard pushed herself off the door before slinking her black purse over the back of the desk chair. As she settled down in the white armchair in the corner of the room, the celebrity pulled out her phone. She checked the missed messages from her management team before sifting through some emails from various potential clients. People reached out to the medium from all over the states, requesting that she help them get in touch with their lost ones. Both Billie and her assistant’s emails were filled with requests, with more piling in every day.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later that a conversation could be heard down the hall. She was pulled from her thoughts, which were stuck on a message she received from a young woman in Orlando. The woman lost her daughter in a fire, one her ex-husband intentionally had started. It was not often that the sad stories got to her, but this one did, striking a chord in the blonde. She felt inclined to help and forwarded the email to her assistant to reach out and schedule a meeting.

Iris swung the door to her hotel room open, letting a taller woman in a red dress walk in first. The blonde got up from the armchair before gracefully moving to greet the two colleagues, with a charismatic smile dancing on her lips. “Billie Dean Howard, this is Liz.”

The medium was feeling despondent after the attempt to contact Tristan Duffy. Yes, she was fortunate that she got to give a message to Iris from her son, but she did nothing to ease the pain evident in Liz Taylor’s heart. Was that not the reason she drove down here? It felt like a defeat in this hellacious place.

The decision to make her way to the Blue Parrot Lounge for a drink came quickly at this point in the night. Nothing could soothe Billie Dean’s soul like a cigarette and a whisky on ice could. She grabbed her purse, singing it over her shoulder before leaving the hotel room. As she made her way down to the bar on the second floor, Billie went over her schedule mentally. She was eager to leave this literal Hellmouth, simply being inside this building took a toll on the spiritualist.

The Blue Parrot Lounge was almost empty, except for the familiar bartender perched behind the counter and You. The moment she saw you, she found it impossible to pull her eyes away. You were sitting on one of the barstools towards the end, hunched over a glass. The medium instantly could sense that you were one of the dead that resided in The Cortez. Yet somehow, you were different from any of the other spirits here. You had a lighter and more mesmerizing energy, one that drew Billie’s immediate attention.

The blonde boldly made her way to sit by you, stopping one stool down so that she was still leaving a respectable distance. The medium did not know your story and figured it was better not to push her luck by coming on too strong. Liz pushed off from the back of the counter where she was drying glasses to walk over and get Billie Dean’s order, watching as the celebrity studied you.

You noticed her the moment she walked in. It would have been impossible for you not to. The older woman was captivating, with gorgeous blonde hair and full pink lips. The dusty pink blouse she wore was framed perfectly by her pearl necklace. She ordered a whisky on the rocks, her voice somehow soft yet smokey. You kept your eyes trained on your drink, taking occasional sips as you pretended not to examine the woman next to you. She was unlike anyone you had seen before.

Billie’s heart raced as she waited for her drink, trying to think of what she could say to you. Striking up conversations with spirits could be difficult sometimes, and the last thing that she wanted to do was scare you off. To ease the tremor in her hand, the woman pulled out her lucky fabric cigarette case, slipping one between soft pink lips before fishing in her purse for her lighter. Before she got the chance to find what she was searching for, you gently slid your zippo across the bar top.

“Thank you,” The older woman replied, her pink acrylic nails wrapping around the cold steel. The sight of her sitting there, a cigarette elegantly placed between two perfect painted lips, was enough to make anyone fall in love. It was silent for a moment as she exhaled, the smoke dissipating from the air as she took a sip out of her glass.

“I’m Billie Dean Howard Darling,” The brown-eyed woman introduced herself, a charming smile dancing playfully on her face as she reached out her perfectly manicured hand. “Medium-To-The-Stars.”

You shook her hand hesitantly at first, soon enjoying the way the warmth of her living body felt on your skin. Everything was always cold now; it had been since the night that you were killed. So you never expected that someone could feel so warm, so full of life. It made you never want to let go of Billie’s hand, yet you did before she could notice you lingering. You were unaware that the famous blonde was in the same position, finding herself irrevocably entranced by you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/N),” There was something about the way that Billie Dean said your name that sent chills down your spine. It was as if it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. It very well might have been the most beautiful thing you ever heard.

The two of you sat together for hours, sharing drinks as the medium told you stories of her adventurous career. You loved listening to her, loved the way the excitement glistened in her eyes as she talked about the spirits she had met. Watching her light up was the closest you felt to living in a long time, and it was bitter-sweet.

It was somehow as if she sensed the shift in your mood the moment it happened. As if she could tell the moment that you started thinking about your own death. It was something that generally you tried not to dwell on since there was nothing anyone could do. Yet, despite this, when you thought far enough back in time to that unlucky night, you never failed to feel a pain in your chest.

“What happened to you,” It slipped out before Billie could control herself, her curiosity getting the better of her. She tried to buffer her statement, giving you an easy out if you were uncomfortable sharing with her. “If it’s not too personal a story for you to share. I understand that it might be traumatic.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. Mortals and their morality, their delicacy especially dealing with ‘sensitive’ topics. It was something you did not understand even when you were alive. Your history may still cause a slight ache in your chest, but you always had been an open book.

“I was one of the first guests to become trapped here after the owner, James March’s curse took hold of this property. It was the seventies, and everything was very different back then.” You reminisced, thinking back on the life you had lived many years ago.

“You were born in the seventies,” Billie said with a hint of disbelief in her voice. Theoretically speaking, you could not have been born more than a few more years before her, yet here you sat, looking so much younger. The thought made you chuckle, pausing for a minute.

“Technically, I was born in nineteen sixty. Though it was seventy-eight when I came to Los Angeles.” You began to tell the story of your passing. It was one quite similar to many of the others who died at The Cortez. “I knew some friends in the city, and so I came to visit. I figured that I would get a cheap hotel room instead of staying the night in one of their dorms, which quickly became the worst decision that I had ever made. I found myself trapped in a hallway while March axed me to death for sport.”

“I am sorry that happened to you,” The blonde’s hand instinctually went to yours as she comforted you, and the second that she realized it, anxiety started to spread through her. Before she could pull away, you ran your thumb gently against her, soothing any doubts that the older woman might have had. You hummed softly in acknowledgment, letting her shift the conversation in a different direction.

“I was thinking about doing an episode of my new Lifetime Special here, in this hotel.” This statement quickly drew your attention out of your head and back to the beautiful woman sitting next to you. Fear rushed through your body, instantly turning you to ice.

“Don’t.” Your voice was stern and clear, yet Billie could detect the slightest waver in it. She quickly went to protest, but the look in your eye itself was a clear enough warning. This hotel, and the horrors that it held, did not want to be exposed. It would fight back if she tried, and her white spirit light would not be enough to help protect her against it. You were trying to look out for her.

“Okay,” Billie Dean nodded softly in agreement, taking a sip of her glass of whisky as she contemplated the implications of what you said. Yes, there was no money to be made here, which in a sense meant there was no reason to stay. Except, of course, to get to know you. The mysterious and charming spirit that she met not much earlier in the night yet found herself enamored with.

There was something about you that was different from the others who died, and as a result, became trapped inside The Cortez. Something different from any of the ghosts that she had encountered in her past. The very air around you felt sweeter, more comforting than anything she had felt before.

“(Y/N), I need your help. You’re the only one besides March who Ms.Evers will listen to.” Before Billie had the chance to change the topic to something lighter, she was interrupted by Liz Taylor. The tall woman was rounding the bar counter with an exasperated look plastered on her face.

“What’s happening this time,” You shook your head with a chuckle. It was an old hotel, and things tended to break almost every week. On top of that, Liz was right that besides the man she had loyally served for years, you were the only one who Hazel Evers listened to. So many of the permanent residents here did not get along, but somehow you always managed to mediate the situations.

“Those two Swedish meatballs broke the washer, and now they are all screaming at each other in the laundry room. Just do what you do and fix it.” The bartender waved you away, not giving you any room to argue. If you had it your way, you would have never gotten up from the seat next to Billie, yet there was work to be done.

“Hopefully I will see you around,” Billie jested flirtatiously as you got up from your stool. Of course, the last thing she wanted was for you to leave, but it was clear that neither of you had a choice in the matter.

“I’ll be here,” You retorted with a dazzling smile before turning to walk off. It was like she could feel a shift in the atmosphere the moment you left the room. Like the darkness was starting to creep in again. Yet, somehow when you were next to her, you kept it at bay. It made her wish for you to return even more, but all she could do was take a sip of her whisky and hope you would return soon.

“They’re different, aren’t they?” Finally, Liz Taylor spoke after nearly twenty minutes, breaking the silence between the two women. The brown-eyed woman knew immediately that the hotel owner was talking about you. “I could tell that they were different when I first came to The Cortez. That they were not like any of the other souls that had died and became trapped inside this building.”

The bartender started fixing Billie Dean another whisky as she continued to speak. “This place can get intense sometimes; the people can get volatile. (Y/N) can always talk sense into them. Into all of them. It can be fascinating to watch.” The thought made the medium’s heart warm, and as the hotel owner proceeded to talk, she found herself becoming more entranced by you.

As you sat in your room later that night, you went over every interaction you had with the famous medium earlier, from the way that she called you darling to the feeling of her soft hand on yours. She made your heart race, even hours later. When you first finished settling the debate between Ms. Evers and Vendela, you went back for her, but the blonde was no longer at the bar. You were pulled from your thoughts by a scream in the hallway. It didn’t take more than a second for you to jolt up and out the door.

You made your way towards the source of the commotion, ready to yell at whoever it was to be quieter. That’s when you noticed Sally McKenna leaning against the hallway wall while her addiction demon backed Billie Dean Howard into a corner. Even in this state, disheveled and terrified, the brown-eyed woman was still breathtaking. So much so that it took a second for you to process what was long on and speak up.

When the addiction demon noticed you, it disappeared, leaving you standing in the hallway with a scared Billie and a bored-looking Sally. The shorter-haired woman rolled her eyes at the intrusion first before assuming the place that her ‘pet’ had been standing. She gripped the medium you had grown fond of tightly, eager to take her target somewhere to kill her. The sight made you growl, anger tearing through your chest.

“Let her go.” It was the second time that night that the older woman had heard that rougher tone in your voice. The one that left no room to argue, even for the dark spirits who were tormenting her. As Liz had said earlier, you were a voice of reason in this hotel.

“We can’t let her expose our home. Did you hear she wants to film a show inside The Cortez,” You could see the pout starting to form on Sally’s face as she realized that you would not budge. Her attempts to change your mind were in vain. The junkie hated when anyone interrupted her during one of her kills, but she knew her place as well. Crossing you would not be an smart decision.

“She won’t. I already talked to her; she will not be filming anything about this place.” You retorted, leaving no room for debate with your subsequent instructions. The other residents in the hotel got a kick out of tormenting mortals, and typically if they kept it quiet enough, you would let it slide, but that wouldn’t stand in regards to Miss. Howard. She was different, and if anyone touched her, you would make their hell so much worse. “Now go find somebody else to haunt.”

Sally huffed, rolling her eyes one last time before taking her hands off of Billie. Then the junkie muttered something that sounded like ‘you owe me’ under her breath before disappearing as well. You quickly made your way over to Billie, grateful that she was not hurt in any way.

“Thank you for saving me-,” Billie started, but you turned to waved her off before she could continue. If you were still alive, you would have let out a sigh of relief, just grateful that you got here on time. That you made it before she had the choice taken from her as well, before she got trapped in this hellhole forever.

“Don’t mention it” You had a gentle smile on your face and a soft look in your eyes as you stared back at her. Billie Dean took a few steps forward, not stopping till she stood only a foot or two in front of you.

“I mean it, Sweetheart. I really do appreciate you,” The woman practically purred. Her normally caramel-colored eyes darkened, dipping into shades of black as she glanced down at your lips. The air between you two crackled with electricity, the tension growing with each passing second.

Before you knew it, she had you pressed against her door, her lips only inches from your face. Billie studied you carefully, watching for any sign of discomfort. Your eyes darted down to her delicate lips as you moved in to close the gap. The blonde brought her hand up to caress your cheek gently.

Billie Dean knew the minute that she kissed you that she never would be able to walk away again. A belief that was reinforced the moment that her lips feverously moved to claim yours. It was clear to her now that she would never truly be able to move on from this place. Not because of the dark gravity that the hotel held, but because she was fated to meet you.

The feeling of her skin against yours was hypnotic beyond reason, and when the alluring blonde let out a moan, it sent a rush straight to your core. It was almost enough to make your knees give in, grateful that she was helping support you against the door. The taller woman reached behind you and opened the door before carefully pushing you back into her room. Billie Dean Howard reached back to lock the door before stalking towards you, with a lustful glisten in her eyes. The sight itself was enough to drive you wild.

“Let me show you exactly how much.”

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The Blue Parrot Lounge - Billie Dean Howard X Reader