Merry Christmas!! I’m always so excited when you are able to be active on here :) Thinking of debbie eagan x reader where she tries to seduce reader to get back at cheating husband and ruth but it backfires in feelings. Or they smoke after a long day and end up making out. I’ll take anything honestly lol
A/N: Went with the second option bc I have another request that's a bit similar to the first :) Also this made me want a cig really bad lol
Warnings: Obviously smoking, also just the slightest bit of internalized homophobia bc this is set in the 80's
Smoking was one of your worst habits. You had others that you weren't proud of, sure, but smoking had to be at the top of the list. And ever since you had started working with Sam again, it seemed to only be getting worse.
In hindsight, you had been completely foolish to think that this was going to be a routine job. Despite all of Sam's assurances over the phone, you should have known better than to expect anything other than chaos, rising tensions between co-stars, and budget problems.
Hell, the fact that he was so desperate he called your apartment twice in the middle of the night should have been enough of a red flag to stop you. That and the fact that the first few words out of his mouth were "women's wrestling show".
A frightening lack of money in your checking account and desperation to get away from your abrasive roommate meant you were willing to put on the rose-colored glasses and go anyway. A rundown motel in the San Fernando Valley became your new home, and you suddenly knew more about wrestling than you ever thought you would as a sound technician.
"Fuck me," you mumbled, patting your breast pocket and feeling the carton inside crumble. You had gotten to the gym around 8:30 that morning, but according to the watch on your wrist it was now well past 11. Shows always ran late, and the crowd from that night's taping had dispersed around 45 minutes ago as you gathered up cables and equipment.
Praying that you at least had a couple for the walk back to the hotel, you fished out the package and flicked it open. Phew. Three left, and you had even managed to be responsible enough to put your lighter back in the pack.
Relief seeped through your system as you placed one of them between your lips and lit it, clutching the pack and lighter in one hand so that you could shield the flame from the wind with the other. You were just about to shove the items back in your pocket and set off towards the sidewalk when the hinges on the door behind you squeaked. You turned around just in time to see none other than the show's blonde starlet exiting the building.
"Oh, hi," she said, eyes immediately dropping from your own to the cigarette hanging from your mouth. Before the door had even fully closed behind her, you had extended the carton and lighter in your hand. So much for having a few for the walk home.
"Hi. Great moves tonight."
It was the first official sentence you had said directly to her despite the fact that filming started three weeks ago. That wasn't necessarily unusual, nor was it something you minded. Main cast and sound crew weren't known to mingle on most sets.
"Thank you..."
Her voice trailed off and several seconds passed before you realized she was waiting for you to light the cigarette she had accepted.
"Oh, right, sorry." You shook your head and sprang into action. The blonde leaned forward as you lifted the lighter and flicked it to life again.
"Thanks," she leaned back and took a drag before continuing, "-but I was waiting for you to tell me your name."
You blinked a few times in surprise, feeling more flustered by the second. It was an easy request, but your tongue was slow to respond.
"Y/N," you said, extending your hand. She reached out to shake it, and suddenly it dawned on you that you didn't know her name either. Well, not her real name. Unless her parents were ultra-patriotic and actually named their infant Liberty Belle.
"You'll have to forgive me, but I joined the crew a little late and haven't gotten everyone's names down. You are...?"
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and you winced, hoping you hadn't just invoked a starlet's wrath. Maybe you should have faked it until the interaction was over and then asked someone else tomorrow.
Then, just as quickly as it appeared, her expression shifted again. Much to your relief, she looked a bit bemused and you thanked the Hollywood gods that you'd live to work another day as she reached out to shake your hand.
"Debbie Eagan," she said, glancing over your shoulder into the parking lot. "You, uh, you want a ride back to the hotel? Sam probably should have warned you about this area at night."
You turned around to follow her gaze and immediately spotted a slouched figure against the stoop of the building across the street.
"Yeah, he probably should have," you agreed. "Or at least offered to let me sit in on some wrestling lessons."
Debbie chuckled a bit and you relished silently in that fact as the two of you made your way over to where her car was parked. It wasn't often you got chauffeured around in a nice vehicle by a beautiful actress, so you figured it was a decent trade off for one of your last cigs.
"Yikes," you noted as she pulled out and the car passed the hooded individual that had prompted the ride offer. "Thanks for driving me."
"Not a problem. Thanks for making us look, er-" Debbie glanced over at you briefly for confirmation, then corrected herself, "-sound good every week. Probably should have thanked you for that already, but you know how us actresses can be."
"Oh, I've worked with worse," you assured her. Now that you were past the apparent threat, you rolled down your window to ash your cigarette outside. As the cool night air rushed into the car, it circled around and carried her perfume over to your side. You tried to ignore how your stomach lurched at the smell and the way the muscles in the arm she was driving with tensed as she turned the wheel.
"Plus," you continued, hoping to distract yourself if you talked enough, "usually the only people offering me rides home are creepy dudes from the crew. So, this is a nice change, you know?"
Another little laugh. You turned fully towards the window, pretending to ash your cigarette again to keep yourself from staring at her. When you did eventually sneak another look, you almost jumped out of your skin when her eyes flickered over briefly from the road.
"Yeah, well, you aren't bad company yourself. So, what do you think of the show? Or are you too busy making sure we don't break any of your equipment to watch?"
"Despite the several heart attacks a night you guys give me over my mics, I do see a good bit. The little old ladies are funny, and I like the wolf girl thing a lot. You and the Russian chick have a good bit going."
Another lightening-quick cycle of emotions crossed her face when you spoke the last sentence, and you sensed immediately that there was some tension between the co-stars. Debbie took one last long drag of her cigarette before tossing the stump out the window.
"Yeah," she sighed, her tone much flatter than before. "Everyone sure seems to think so."
The car turned into the hotel parking lot just as you finished your own cigarette. A mixture of relief and regret that the ride was nearing it's end tangled in your mind, and you briefly wondered if this would be the only time you and the actress would speak for the rest of the job.
"Fuck, there she is."
Debbie's voice pulled you out of your thoughts as the vehicle came to a stop and she killed the engine. You looked up and over towards the pool area, where a few of the women's silhouettes were visible.
"Well," you ventured, "I have one more cigarette if you want to split it and kill some more time."
Debbie's gaze, which had narrowed significantly upon spotting the brunette, softened again as she undid her seatbelt and turned in your direction.
"You don't mind?"
"Nope," you shook your head and handed over the carton and lighter to prove it. Despite the utter disdain that had plagued her features moments before, she smiled at you as she took them. "I've smoked more than my fair share of cigarettes to avoid people. Family members, ex's, former high school classmates. The list goes on, really."
Debbie smirked as she lit up and handed you back your lighter. Between the way she was looking at you, and the feeling of her fingers grazing your palm as she returned the object, your brain was working overtime to figure out the alarm systems from your nervous system. Did her hand linger on yours, or was it just your imagination drawing out a few seconds into something more?
"You know, I'm starting to feel like I really missed out on not getting to know the sound people on my previous sets."
"Hey now, they aren't all as funny as me. Especially since most of them are men."
"Touché," she said, passing over the Marlboro. Her attention stayed on you, which was somewhat of a surprise considering you figured she'd be watching to see if her cast mate had left yet.
"You don't like them, I'm guessing?"
Damn. You hadn't been expecting that particular subject to be broached on what was supposed to be a five minute drive back, but you couldn't exactly blame the other woman for pointing out what you briefly forgot your appearance made obvious.
"I do not," you confirmed, somewhat hesitant in the statement still despite the years you had spent learning to live more comfortably with that fact. For a moment, you felt the need to brace yourself for her to react poorly.
"These days, I'm not entirely sure I like them myself."
Definitely not the reply you were expecting. The energy in the car seemed to shift, almost if the air was charged with static electricity. You shifted in the passenger seat, half expecting her to shock you when she passed the dwindling cigarette back over.
"Guy troubles?"
She shook her head, bit her lip, and looked as if she thought about saying about 10 different things at once.
"I...you could say that, yeah. Do women also typically cheat on their girlfriends with their best friends and whore secretaries?"
"Jeez," you chuckled, but shrugged. "I can't speak for every lesbian on Earth, but I think we have a much better track record generally speaking. Also, fuck your ex. Or, at least I hope he's your ex."
"Yeah, he is. He also wasn't a big fan of me being a wrestler, if you can imagine that."
"See, there's a big difference right there. I'd be over the moon to hear that you booked this show. You look incredible up there."
Even in the dim parking lot lights, you could still see a blush creeping across Debbie's cheeks at the comment.
"Incredible, huh? That's definitely not the feedback I got from him, so thank you for that." Her voice was softer, and despite the fact that you had just made her blush you suddenly felt like you were squirming under her gaze.
A sudden flicker of pain between your index and middle finger made you flinch. The ember of the cigarette, which had finished burning away in your hand, had finally reached the filter. You flicked the butt out the window and swore under your breath in an attempt to soothe the sting.
The feeling of a hand lightly coming to rest on your thigh pulled your attention back to the situation at hand. You turned your head to find Debbie's face inches from yours as she hovered over the center console, bracing herself on your leg.
"I've had a really stupid fucking week," she spoke slowly, her eyes moving between your own and your mouth, "-and you are saying all the right things right now."
Her lips were on your own a second later, soft and slightly sweet from whatever lip balm she was wearing. The frustration from the past few days was evident in the way she kissed, and the way her hand came up from your thigh to your neck, pulling you in closer. You certainly didn't mind, and as pathetic as it made you feel, it took everything in you not to whine when she pulled away eventually.
"Hmm," Debbie hummed thoughtfully, leaning back over to her side of the car. You opened your eyes to see that her face was as flushed as your own felt, and the sound of both of you catching your breath filled the car for several moments.
"What? Do you have notes?" you asked eventually, unable to stand the thought of returning to your room for the night without knowing whether that "hmm" had been good or bad.
"No, sorry, it's just-" she paused, unsure of her words for a moment. "-I guess I'm realizing how bad men are at making out."