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rogueddie · 1 year

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Runner / End Of Beginning

Steve has never seen his father as upset, as furious, as he was when he got home with his final exam results. He'd known- suspected- that his father would flip when his results came in...

His father got angry at small things. Hearing that he'd had a party while they were away, that a girl went missing at that party, had been the closest Steve thought he'd ever get to recieving a beating.

But when he came home with his grades... when his father realized that his son, his supposed prodigy, barely passed...

Steve has never ran as fast as he currently is.

As soon as he'd seen an openning, a clear line to the door, he'd stumbled to his feet and bolted. He'd picked a random direction and ran. He isn't going to stop running until he physically has to stop, knowing that his father is most likely in his car, trying to find him.

He can't stop. He has to keep running.

Eventually, he has to pause. He has to catch his breath.

He leans against a trailer, panting. He prays that no one thinks to look outside and spot him. He prays that no one will-

"Harrington?"

"Fuck." He hisses, squinting up at- "Munson?"

"What the fuck happened to you?" He says, eyes widenning when he finally gets a look at his face. "Second round with Hargrove, or what?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Munson eyes him for a moment, frowning. "Is someone after you?"

"What do you care?" Steve heaves a deep breath, forcing himself to stand up straight. He brings his knees up in a few knee highs, gearing up for another sprint.

"Ugh. Just- you can come into my trailer," Munson says, sounding as though Steve is forcing him to make the suggestion. "No one would think to look for you there. You can, like... I don't know. Drink some water? You jocks do that, right?"

"Wh- I don't need your help!"

"I'm not waiting for you all day, come on, let's go!" He makes a wide, exaggerated gesture for Steve to follow.

"You just assume I'm gonna follow?"

"Yeah."

He sounds so confident, so sure, that Steve can't think to do anything other thank blink and say, "fuck it, yeah, alright."

Steve is a little surprised at how much space Eddies trailer has. It's cramped, but in a nice way- the way a home gets when people actually live in it. When the people inside are actually happy and chase those joys.

Munson does get him a glass of water, mumbling at him to "sit anywhere", before flopping onto the sofa himself. He turns the TV on, focusing on that.

"Thanks," Steve eventually mutters, awkwardly sitting down.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Sure."

"There isn't," he insists, despite how casual and accepting Munson is acting. "It's my fault, anyway. I deserved it."

"Did you?" Munson turns to him, eyebrow raised. "All us freaks and losers can talk about these days is your change of heart. King of Hawkins High turned lame boytoy."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Steve sneers.

"Even Jeff thinks you're alright now," he barrels on. "Said he bumped into you, pretty hard, knocked all your shit down, and you apologized. Said his coffee ended up on an essay, or something. Thought he was about to get his ass kicked and you just..."

He waves his hand at him, as though that's explination enough.

Steve doesn't know a Jeff, but he's pretty sure he knows who Munson is talking about, and; "I wasn't looking where I was going. If anything, we were both at fault."

"See?" Munson waves his hand at him again, a little more pointed. "Don't doubt you've got a long way to go, but you're not half-bad. You didn't deserve whatever the fuck happened to your face."

"Whatever."

They fall quiet, both pretending to watch whatever is on the TV. Steve is so zoned out that, when someone clears their throat, he flinchs.

"Sorry to startle you boys," the man chuckles. But the humor quickly teeters out, once he gets a good look at Steve. "You alright, kid?"

"I'm fine."

"He's not," Munson grins wide when Steve glares at him.

"Staying the night?" The man continues, only looking at Eddie now.

"If I can convince him," Munson shrugs.

"I can't stay the night," Steve tries.

"Good," the man nods, as though Steve hadn't said anything. "I'll start making us all some dinner." He finally looks to Steve. "You got any allergies?"

"I can't stay," Steve tries again, insisting.

"No," Munson answers for him. "No problems with meat either."

The man gives Munson a thumbs up, heading through to the kitchen.

"I can't stay," Steve repeats, turning to Munson. "Really. I have to go back or... I have to go back."

"What will happen if you don't go back?"

Steve grimaces. "Nothing. Just- I can't stay here."

"Why not? They gonna hit me too?"

"You know what, Munson? Yeah, probably. And your- your dad?"

"Uncle," Munson snorts, standing, stretching. "No one messes with us though. We're too scary." He wiggles his fingers in Steves face as he passes by. "And call me Eddie."

"Why?"

"It's my name."

Steve awkwardly follows him to the kitchen, hovering a good distance from the two of them, watch how they move around each other with so much comfort and ease. It makes something in Steves chest ache.

"Oh, hey, you like football right?" Eddie asks, pointing to him.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not enough to have, like, a team." Steve shrugs.

Wayne turns around slowly, eyebrows raised. "You don't got a team?"

Talking football with Wayne is so easy that, until he's halfway through the dinner he cooked, Steve doesn't notice how fast the time is going. He can't bring himself to be bothered though. It's too nice.

Plus, Eddie is almost bouncing with joy at how well Steve and Wayne are getting along.

Someone starts banging on the door, loud and aggressive, as they make their way to the kitchen.

"Alright!" Wayne calls, rolling his eyes. "Hold your horses."

Steves stomach drops when the door opens and his father is on the other side. He smiles at Steve, sickly sweet and dangerously calm.

"Oh, thank God," he sighs. "Steve, your mother and I have been looking all over for you. When you didn't get home-"

Wayne blocks his way when he tries to step inside. "Who are you?"

"Robert Harrington," Steves dad sniffs, leaning back so he can physically look down at Wayne. "I'm here for my son."

"He ain't here."

Robert Harrington splutters, face tinting red with anger and frustration. He points to Steve, voice raising as he says, "he's right there! And he's coming with me."

Wayne turns, slow and casual. "Huh. That's odd. Don't see him."

"Steve," he snaps his fingers at Steve, like he's a dog. "Come on. We're going home."

Eddie shifts so he's standing slightly in front of him.

It's enough reassurance for him to finally snap back; "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Steven-"

"Get off my property," Wayne snaps.

His father glares at them, waiting, as though he expects them to back down. When he doesn't, he snarls; "this is kidnapping."

"He's 18," Eddie drawls.

Grumbling, he stomps off.

"Asshole," Wayne mutters. He shuts and locks the door, sliding on the chain too.

Steve has to sit down, with how much his legs are shaking.

"You alright?" Eddie asks, hesitantly sitting beside him.

"Yeah," Steve says. He's surprised to find he means it. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You can stay here, long as you need," Wayne offers. "You'll have to bunk with Eds though. Not a lot of room."

"Why can't he use the sofa when you're-"

"Nope," Wayne cuts him off. There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that has Steve squinting in suspicion. "And you'll need those cuts looking at. Eddie, why don't you go with him. Medkits in the bathroom."

Steve goes ahead when Eddie points the way to the bathroom.

Eddie tries to give Wayne a warning look but he's unbothered and, with Steves back turned, he gives Eddie an encouraging wink.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #decideweekprompt #tw abuse #tw child abuse #better late than never

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writer-in-theory · 2 years

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"It's a wonder Steve's survived this long, Jesus H. Christ," Eddie hissed.

Eddie hasn't stopped pacing the hospital waiting room ever since Steve was taken back for 'testing'. The doctors had listed out various scans but there were too many acronyms to keep track of. All Eddie knew was that Steve had been hiding his pain for at least a day, maybe longer, until he collapsed at work with Robin.

That was the second worst call Eddie had ever gotten in his life.

"Harrington?" the doctor called out then, holding onto a metal clipboard tightly and looking around the busy emergency room. In an instant Eddie was on his feet, practically sprinting to where the doctor was standing.

"How is he, doc? Get to keep all his fingers?" He wanted to joke, but the words fell flat in the sterility of the room. The last time he'd been here had been after...No. The Upside Down had long since been closed off from their world and Vecna was disintegrated into that weird otherworldly ash. It was over.

"Are you family?"

Nancy and Robin had prepped him for this one, too. In everything but the law, Eddie and Steve were husbands. They'd had a wedding with Robin and Dustin as their Best (Wo)Men and Wayne as their officiant, in the middle of the night where no one would notice but them. They'd celebrated their fifth anniversary two weeks ago, they were the loves of each others' lives. But to the government, to this doctor, they weren't anything but friends who shared a bed. Fuck the nineties.

"Yeah, he's my brother-in-law," Eddie answered, knowing when Nancy showed up they could pass this lie off decently. "How's Steve doing?"

The doctor gave him a long look, but otherwise nodded and rechecked his clipboard. "Mr. Harrington is getting prepped for emergency surgery, currently, as he's s—"

"Emergency surgery? What do you mean surgery?" Already Eddie could feel the tell-tale warning signs of panic as his heart began to race and his palms got sweaty. Surgery wasn't good. They weren't supposed to do this. No more hospitals, no more surgeries, no more 'wait and see's. They'd promised after last time, Steve promised.

"Sir," the doctor pushed, looking more irritated than concerned. "This is a routine procedure, we see it all the time. Mr. Harrington has a case of appendicitis, pretty bad by the looks of it. Has he been feeling any pain lately?"

"Yeah, yeah the bastard has," Eddie hissed, not sure if he was about to laugh or cry. Appendicitis. Fucking appendicitis. He'd had that as a kid, he still remembered all the popsicles and ice creams Uncle Wayne let him have in the days after, cooped up in the trailer watching boring TV shows while all his friends were at school. "Is he already in surgery? Can I see him?"

"He's being prepped, but you can see him. We gave him some medication to calm him down and ease his pain, so Mr. Harrington may be...out of it," the doctor warned as he led Eddie through the maze of hallways behind the front desk. "Next time, let your brother-in-law know he shouldn't ignore this kind of pain."

"Oh don't you worry, doc, I'll make sure to pass on the message," Eddie answered, practically glaring at the closed hospital room door. Fucking appendicitis and Steve had ignored it, passed it off as a pulled muscle after a run.

Seeing Steve in a hospital bed didn't get any easier, though it was hard to be angry or scared when the man's head lolled across the pillow to reveal a brilliant, out-of-it smile Eddie had never seen before. "Eddie!" Steve cooed, reaching his arms out for the other man.

Eddie couldn't help but laugh, crossing the distance quickly so he could press Steve's arms back to the bed. "Hey, c'mon now, Harrington, don't wanna pull that IV line out."

"Did they tell you they're stealing my organ? They're stealing it, Eds!"

"It's a pretty useless one anyway, you won't even miss it."

Steve's face scrunched up at that, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "How dare you! Of course I'll notice one of my little guys got separated! What if he gets lonely?"

"You're..." Eddie tried not to laugh, if only because he's sure that'll make Steve fly off the handle even further. He scrubbed a hand across his tired face, sure his expression was full of nothing but fondness now for the man laying in the hospital bed. "You're afraid your appendix will get lonely?"

"I just...they're all meant to be together, you know? You can't separate one and expect it won't get lonely. Don't let them steal my organ, Eds."

"I," Eddie began, unable to help the smile that pulled on his lips. "Stevie, baby, it's not stealing if a doctor does it. They're taking it out because it's being a troublemaker. It doesn't belong there anymore, you can't keep trying to make it fit somewhere it doesn't."

"Never stopped me before," Steve answered with a little slur. "Maybe I like troublemakers." Then, leaning over with his hand by his mouth in a conspiratorial whisper, he said at full volume, "I mean you, Eddie."

There was no laugh like the one Steve was able to pull from him, of that Eddie had learned years before. He laughed until his chest hurt and tears gathered in his eyes, until even the nurse peeked their head in to check on the two of them.

"C'mon, Stevie. You go be a rockstar in there and I'll be right beside you when you wake up. We'll go get so much ice cream you forget about your stolen appendix," Eddie offered, pressing a kiss to Steve's non-IV lined hand.

"I'll be such a good rockstar you gotta put me in the band," Steve answered, blowing a kiss to Eddie as the surgical team came in to wheel him off. "Love you, Eds."

Warmth spread through his chest, warming him from the insides out until Eddie worried he might burn up from the intensity of Steve's love. "Love you too, Steve."

Eddie stands and watches as they wheel Steve out of the room, laughing as Steve yelled after him.

"I can't believe you're letting them steal my poor appendix, Munson! I won't forget this!"

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie headcanon #hospitals #surgery #jay writes in theory

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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months

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howdy, honey!

part I

older!cowboy!Eddie x honey!reader

foreword: idk what this is. other than the start of a new series I may or may not have time for lmao. just… love the idea of honey!Reader and wanted to show the origins of cowboy!Eddie into their life <3 honey!Reader is a bit of an abrasive spitfire but I heart complicated women and Eddie is the right amount of gruff to put up w/ that bratty ass <3 I’m sorry if any truck stuff is wrong I swear I researched a bit but dear god I am not a car girly plz forgive me

cw: Appalachian no magic AU, cowboy!Eddie, older!Eddie, age gap (Eddie is at least 40, R implied as younger), R is on the run from a Troubled Past ™, R has breasts (non-sexual mention) and a tattoo (no skin tone/color mentioned), smut planned for following chapters, as always +18 mdni!

wc: 5.3k

The last thing you want to hear behind you approaches: a vehicle slowing down, tires crunching to crawl at your walking pace in the gravel ditch of the road.

Maybe it’s just a concerned citizen. You soothe yourself internally, even as your guard surges up to take stock of the environment, to calculate the quickest route to safety.

To your left- a rusting red pickup, its unknown driver, the flat expanse of tarmac and heat lines rising blearily for miles on end.

To your right, just a sprint away- the line of a lush, thick forest, unfamiliar birds calling amidst the Appalachian wilderness.

Then, an even worse sound of the truck's window being rolled down.

“Not interested, pal,” you call out, in a tone you hope is commanding. “My thumb ain’t out. Keep driving.”

“I just-” it’s a man’s voice, because of course it is, who else would stop in the middle of an abandoned road to harass a young thing like you- “It’s about a hundred degrees out. Hotter than a two-buck pistol and you’re hiking in it.”

“Mind your damn business.” You don’t know this guy’s angle, but you don’t really care- if there’s anything you’ve learned from the past two weeks on the road, it’s Don’t trust strange men and keep your wits.

Heart thumping an unsteady rhythm, you swallow the fear and hike your duffle bag higher onto your aching shoulder, resolute, even as the guy sighs. As if he has the right to sound weary. “Darlin’. I don’t wanna see you die of dehydration, is all. Got some water in the back, ‘least let me offload some onto you.”

The offer is tempting enough to still your steps- your canteen is empty, ran out about an hour after being filled at the last town’s hostel. Constant thirst has been an unfortunate side effect of this journey; so far it seems you've been the only one desperate enough to actually be outside in this unrelenting heat.

The man must take your pause for acceptance because he rolls to a stop just ahead of you, brake lights giving one quick flash before the engine cuts out. Both boots hit pavement at the same time, revealing a tall, lanky figure in dark denim and a cut-off tee.

As he rounds to the trailer bed, you notice a smattering of tattoos- bats flying up one arm, a lariat and a floral piece on the other, some sort of mythological creature sitting over his heart (only spotted as he bends to unhook his truck bed’s latch, shirt shifting forward to reveal a pale expanse of skin beneath).

He’s a confusing, delightful mix of punk and cowboy- jeans just a touch too tight for working, silver hoops lining the shell of his right ear. You’d probably get a better sense of his age if his hair wasn’t hiding in a bun too shadowy to see properly, nestled under the brim of his black cowboy hat.

Eyes dark as bittersweet chocolate but kind and calm turn towards you, observing silently with crossed arms in the ditch a yard away. He closes the gap, wiping his palm on the black bandanna lining his pocket before stretching an appeasing hand towards you. “Waterin’ time.”

A laugh would signal comfortability, and you prefer to keep your cards as close to your own chest as possible, so you smother the noise, turn it into a disapproving twist of your mouth before taking his proffered hand.

He’s stronger than he looks, pulling you up to the road with an easy flex of his forearm; his other hand automatically fits to your low back to steady you as your pack shifts with the climb, but he drops all points of contact as soon as you’re stabilized.

There’s a thunk from the nearby truck, the sound of something dull hitting into the metal. On instinct, your hand snaps to the butterfly knife tucked into the front of your bra band, hidden by the extra padding but close enough to whip out at a moment's notice.

A dog sits eager and obedient in the truck bed, black and leggy and long-snouted- some type of Shepherd, if you had to guess. His long feathered tail hits the wheel with each enthusiastic wag, oversized ears perked forward.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Adrenaline leaves you feeling sticky and strung-out, even more than the heat. Between your breasts, the knife sits waiting, metal cool to the touch and reassuring through the fabric of your tanktop. You hope it just looks like you scare easily, hand over your heart with nerves and jumpiness instead of trained defense mode- cards to chest, and all that.

Safer for you, to be underestimated. Always harder to see a hit coming from someone unexpected.

This time, though, you aren’t fixing to hit. The back of your hand, like some gravitational force, draws you to the mouth of the truck bed.

A slash of pink tongue splits the all-black dog’s mouth when he licks you, thumping tailbeat picking up speed.

The man who owns both truck and dog leans a hip against the wheel, watching as you smooth your palm over the silky head of his companion. “Name’s Goblin.”

“So, your parents were hippies, I gather?” A joke slips out before you can catch and wrestle it back to be the most unassuming version of yourself.

The man laughs- full and rich, crow’s feet bursting like sunbeams, dimples springing into his cheeks- the action knocks a decade off his face.

You’re transfixed, unable to look away, Goblin nudging your hand for more pets while you memorize the way this stranger looks, laughing on the side of the road in the middle of goddamn nowhere.

“The dog is Goblin,” the man says, humor twitching at the corners of his plush lips. He takes off his hat to rest against his chest, chocolate eyes still twinkling. “I’m Eddie.”

In the truck bed next to Goblin, there’s a bulky case laying sideways, a handle on one end for carrying. It’s the last push you need, apparently, as the logic part of your mind speaks with finality: Ted Bundy never played guitar.

So you give Eddie your name. Your real one. You haven’t used it in weeks, opting for anonymity and the comfort of a pseudonym at the seedy spots you’ve been staying.

As soon as you say it, something loosens in your chest, flutters free into the bright blue sky as Eddie repeats it like something precious- like he’s known you for ages.

“Well.” As if a matter has been settled, Eddie puts his hat back on (you weren’t quite done memorizing the long pattern of his curls, shot through with grey, pulled taut against his skull to settle in a bun at the nape of his neck). “More’n welcome to take the water and send me packin’, but now that we all know each other’s names, how about a lift to town?”

Eddie scratches Goblin behind the ear, absentminded as he adds, “Could even sit in the back, ‘f you wanted. That way you could just jump on out if you think I’m tryna pull something.”

Your shoulder suddenly aches with the weight of your duffel; you let the straps slide to the crook of your elbow, then set it next to Goblin who seems happy for something new to sniff.

Unfortunately for Eddie, you’re starting to like him, which means the filter for your sarcasm and teasing has completely eroded. “Ri-ight. Like I’m gonna just sit in the back of your truck when you could floor it and fling me over the side like a ragdoll.”

Those big, doey eyes of Eddie’s roll skyward. “You always this stubborn?”

“Only on days that end in Y.”

“All right.” There’s something in his tone that makes your spine straighten- not from fear, just… something else that you’re trying hard not to analyze right now. “So sit in the damn front and put a seatbelt on, since you’re so worried ‘bout my driving.”

Eddie shuts the pickup’s gate and mutters all the way to the driver’s side door, some comparison being drawn between you and one of his cows that gets herself stuck in the fenceline, refusing sesnsible help.

The air in the cab is stale and still, warmth from the cracked leather seats soaking into the back of your shorts and bare thighs as you get in and buckle up. You’re suddenly aware of how desperately you need a shower, being in an enclosed space and next to someone with (presumably) a working sense of smell, but luckily Eddie’s already rolling down the windows.

“Air’s broke,” he says by way of apology, waving in the general direction of the AC vents before reaching to open the sliding rear window.

Something cold and wet presses against your ear- Goblin, saying hello. By the time your giggle is over, the grumble of the engine has kicked on, and the dog has found a headrest in the form of your pack, his tongue lolling into the fabric with rhythmic panting.

“Radio?” You ask, already reaching to twist at the knob on the dash- a crackle of static, and then, bliss. Johnny Cash croons from the speakers.

In trying to keep your delight casual, you slip up, telling Eddie as he straightens out the wheel to pick up speed- “God, I haven’t heard music this good in months, not since-”

Fortunately, whatever system in your brain still holding on to good sense chops the sentence in half. To cover, you clear your throat, cross your arms, and keep your eyes fixed forward when you change the subject. “So, you play guitar?”

If Eddie notices your lapse he doesn’t comment on it, picking up conversation with an easy charm. “Nah. That’s just a cover for if Sheriff Hop gets me for speedin’. That case is filled with coke and guns and all sorts’a contraband.”

You fix the side of his head with a glare, and even without seeing it full-on Eddie sputters a chuckle and admits, “Fine. I play guitar, sometimes.”

While Eddie’s eyes stay on on the road ahead, you let your own gaze linger on his face in profile: the slope of his nose, the freckles that scatter across the apple of his cheeks and neck, the tail end of another tattoo winding up his collarbone.

Eddie catches you staring, this time, jolt like an electric shock coursing through your whole body when you lock eyes for a moment, before he flicks back to the road. “Looks like you got some ink, yourself.”

He must be doing his best to remain respectful, because he doesn’t ask what the J stands for, even as your other hand jumps instinctually to cover the breadth of your wrist, hiding the little inked letter from view. “Yeah. I get one every time I kill a man. In remembrance.”

Amusement twitches at the corner of Eddie’s mouth when he asks, “Yeah? Only one so far? Would’a thought you’d be racking up your letters by now. Fierce as you are.”

“Well, we’re in public. I can’t very well take off my shirt to show you all the rest.”

This earns you another laugh, and even with the wind whipping through the cab, it fills every inch of the space. Rattles into you like a thunderstorm, knocks dust off some deep part of you kept dormant ‘til now.

You like that he called you that. Fierce. You’re loath to admit it, but you also like the pet names. Most boys are condescending or double-edged with their diminutives, but when Eddie calls you darlin’ with that Southern drawl, it feels… endearing.

Equal parts terrifyingly disarming and captivatingly charming. That’s how you’d categorize Eddie, so far, though you’re not sure what to file away about his arms- stretched out at ten and two on the Ford’s big wheel, soft white underbelly of his forearms fading into a natural freckled tan, smattering of dark hair over both.

For now, you file it under Trouble and focus on the upcoming road sign.

It looks like someone stripped a big tree and cut out a thick middle piece just to drive it at a slant into the ground. The hand-carved words appear to have been painted over many times, discolored and weathered, obscuring some of the letters.

WELC ME TO C LINE

”It’s a nice town, Celine,” Eddie says conversationally as the sign gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. “Small, but good community. Lots of farming folks, like me, some strays and stragglers, like you.”

Johnny Cash gives way to an unfamiliar folksy number; you drink in the ramshackle buildings that make up the heart of the town. It’s reminiscent of old cowboy movies you grew up watching with your brothers- flat roofs, red brick, clapboard. A hitching post outside of a General Store, a group of kids tearing around on bikes in the empty lot of the movie theater.

All that’s missing is a lone tumbleweed flipping lazily end over end across the road.

Eddie pulls his truck parallel with a stretch of curb outside a long building, another handmade sign that reads Celine Public Library. He leaves the engine running but shifts the gear to park, pointing to the phone booth just beyond your window.

“Phone’s just there, if you got someone to call. Figure’d here’s as good a place as any, if you wanna part ways now.”

Oh, right. Eddie offered you a ride to town, and he made good on it. Now is the part where you get out, collect your duffel, and wave while pretending to make a phone call until his truck has disappeared.

But you don’t. There’s lively guitar plucking over the speakers, twining with the purr of the engine. Eddie’s hands flex and unflex on the wheel, horseshoe tattoo on the first segment of his middle finger rippling with the movement like he’s working up the courage to say something,

You’d better not stick around to hear it. Fighting the thing that’s sticking you to the seat, you reach for the door handle. “Well, thanks, Eddie. ‘Preciate the lift.”

Your fingers are just grazing the handle when Eddie speaks again. “Wait-”

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t-

His eyes are just as beautiful as before, when he’d laughed- and now they’re on you, longing and hopeful and a little unsure as he speaks, gaining speed as if from nerves- “I’ve got a spare room. Spare shack, technically- it’s not much, but I used to live in there real comfortably ‘til my uncle moved and I got the house. Please come stay, at least for the night. Please?”

With a hand still on the door to your other, safer option, you pause; though the main emotion that washes through you is one of relief and gratitude, you sink your teeth into the little flare of irritation, pulling it up to the surface like one last play. “I don’t want charity.”

”Do I look like the church-goin’ type?” A bright flash of Eddie’s teeth as he grins (he knows he’s got you, goddammit). “And the shack door locks from the inside. Deadbolt. In case you’re worried about… I’m not askin’ anything from you. Just- please.”

Your hand drops from the door, falls limply into your lap as you breathe out. “And you’re not in some… weird, cowpoke-Satanic cult where you’re gonna use me as human sacrifice?”

“What part of deadbolt do you not get,” Eddie retorts, pleased, hand at the gear shift. “And my cult only meets on the full moon, so. You’ve got a few weeks of safety, at least.”

A genuine laugh bubbles up out of you, and the smile that Eddie fixes you with would’ve knocked you sideways had you been standing.

You’re both relishing in the moment too deeply to notice the bicycles approaching from behind; Goblin gives an excited yip, front paws planted on the lip of the truck, wagging up a storm as the group squeals to a halt, surrounding you and Eddie on all sides.

One of the kids, a boy with a curly mop of hair who looks on the young end of 15, slams a hand down on Eddie’s open window. “Hey!”

Eddie is the one to nearly jump out of his skin this time, hand flying to the top of his hat and cursing. “Fuck. Christ, Henderson. Whaddya want?”

“Do you require our assistance at the market this weekend?” The kid speaks in a funny, oddly formal tone as Eddie sighs and sets his hat on the seat between the two of you.

“Unfortunately so.”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t be like that.” The boy is practically leaning through the window at this point with eagerness, one foot on the ground to keep his bike from tipping. You smother a giggle at the way Eddie’s jaw ticks. “School’s out, we’re bored as hell, and-”

He stops mid sentence when he spies you in the passenger seat, eyebrows jumping up to the curls covering his forehead. “And who might this be?”

“None of your damn business,” Eddie grits out, but you ignore the all-bark-no-bite tone to stretch across and offer your hand in introduction.

“I’m Dustin,” the boy says, in answer to your own name, and rapid-fire points at the various figures loitering around the truck, naming his friends too quickly for you to store them long-term. “Now, Edward, about our payment…”

There’s a girl with red braids near your window, the only one not on a bike. When you give her a friendly smile, she glowers and plants a sneakered foot on her skateboard, rocking it aimlessly up and down the asphalt.

In the back, Goblin is basking in the attention of the rest of the group; another boy with a close-cropped Afro rubs the dog’s head lovingly, while a girl with serious brown eyes and shoulder-length curls (Eddie’s relative, maybe?) makes tentative strokes down Goblin’s side.

There are two other kids- boys, you think- near the back of the trailer, but their backs are to the group, close as two people can be while still on their own bikes. Dustin’s conversation floats back into your comprehension- he’s making a valiant attempt at twisting Eddie’s arm where ‘payment’ is concerned.

Untwistable, Eddie shakes his head. A few strands of hair have come loose from his bun, curling around his jaw with the overdramatic move he makes to throw the gear shift into drive. “All right, enough, ya scoundrel. Round up your crew and go be a pain in someone else’s ass.”

Unperturbed, Dustin straightens, grasping his bike’s handlebars with one hand and wrapping a tight fist around the metal of the truck’s side mirror.

This seems to be some sort of signal, because the rest of the group latches on like some choreographed play- hands, one from each kid, coming up to grip at any free space left on the truck, shoulders hunching forward as if preparing to be shot forth like a rubber band.

“Damn kids,” Eddie grumbles, but you can hear the fondness in his voice as he lifts his foot from the brake.

The truck lurches forward, and with it, the extra wheels; Goblin’s revved-up barking joins the excited chatter and whooping of the kids hanging on, a joyous cacophony of sound as you all head further down the empty street together.

Eddie picks up speed; there’s a twinge of fear as you watch the speedometer tick up to 10- and then he honks, once, and in perfect synchronicity all the kids let go. Some of them pedal furiously to keep up the momentum, others- like the girl on the skateboard- take advantage of the added speed to simply coast.

Soon enough, their cheerful waves and laughter recede into the distance along with the rest of the town as Eddie keeps his boot on the gas.

The heat in town was dizzying, so you’re relieved when the road dips and bends into the comfort of shade- courtesy of the wild forest flanking either side.

It’s about a ten minute drive to Munson Farms, and on the way, Eddie tells you all about it. You learn that his Uncle Wayne raised him, taught him how to work and live off the land- when Wayne retired and moved a few miles down the road, Eddie took over.

“Not really a lucrative venture, farming,” he says, trees passing in a blur as he navigates the road curves with ease. “But the end of summer Town Fair pays well, ‘specially for sheep penning demonstrations. Got a couple of dairy cows, chickens that won’t stop laying- between that ‘n Wayne’s orchards, we got more than enough to get us through the winter months.

And then there’s the hives-”

“Bees?” Unable to help the interruption, your head whips in his direction, interest piqued.

“Yup. Got about six hives right now in the southern pasture. Don’t know much about ‘em, truthfully- got a friend named Chrissy, comes once a week or so to make sure they stay maintained. I mostly just help come harvesting time, and try to stay out of her way for the rest.”

There are about a thousand other questions you want to ask- what kind of bees? Are they near your garden plot to promote pollination? Any bears in the area?- but you tamp down your excitement, settling on a neutral, “Cool,” before looking out the window again.

The sign for Munson Farms is handmade, too, but upkept much better than the one in town- it swings gently in the breeze on metal links as Eddie turns down the adjoining dirt road. About a quarter mile in, you start to see signs of life- fence lines running through the trees and the shush of a nearby water source- and then, a house.

It’s small, probably no more than a bed, bath, and kitchen inside. There’s a red brick chimney separating the straight lines of the blue-painted wood planks, ivy crawling up one side to frame the eastern-facing window.

On the covered porch, a big, long-haired white dog lifts its head at the sound of the truck pulling in. Goblin gives a greeting bark, practically tripping over his oversized paws to launch out of the truck even as Eddie gripes at him to “Be careful, dammit!”

As you follow Eddie out of the truck and to the porch, the white dog shambles over on a stiff back leg, ignoring the playful jumping and licking Goblin gives in favor of coming up to sniff you.

“This is Rosie,” Eddie says, patting her greying muzzle with a gentleness that twists something in your stomach. “She’s near older than me, was a great livestock guardian ‘til her age caught up. Been trying to train up Goblin to take her place but between you ‘n me I think his head might be full of rocks.”

As if he’s aware of the insult, Goblin gives an indignant yip and paws at Eddie’s knee; he gets laughed off by the two of you, zipping away with a deep sense of importance into the nearby forest while Rosie shambles back to her cozy porch spot.

It smells incredible, here, surrounded by so many trees- you take a deep breath, inhaling the rich pines, the verdant underbrush. Just past the house, there’s a fenced-in area with various plants spilling out of raised garden beds. You can almost smell the summer strawberries and crisp veggies.

On the other side of the fence is a plastic-sheeted greenhouse, LED lights inside making the whole thing glow artificial purple. Eddie catches you staring, then gives a wink, laying one long finger to the side of his nose. “Don’t go tellin’ the Sheriff on me and I’ll give you a joint for your troubles.”

“Deal.” Wasn’t a hard sell at all- at the rate this is going, you’re dying to get high with this man.

Eddie grabs your pack out of the truck bed and leads you across the dirt road, pointing out the fence lines in the distance, and a barn that you can just make out through a gap in the trees.

“Sheep, cows, horses, all that way. This way-” his hand rests between your shoulder blades, steering you towards a boot-worn path, “-is the guest shack. Beehives’ll be just down the hill from where you’re stayin’.”

He pauses, looking back over his shoulder at you- “I’ll take you to see ‘em tomorrow. Promise. I just don’t want you goin’ by yourself and getting stung to death, y’hear?”

Not for the first time today, you wish, desperately, to tell him things you shouldn’t. I was actually an apprentice beekeeper for a year, I know my way around a hive. Studied entomology and agriculture in college before I lost myself in the worst mistake of my life. You know that pesky little J I’ve got on my wrist…?

But if you start talking, you won’t stop. And besides, you’re not planning to stay here long enough for your secrets to matter.

So instead, you press your lips into a line, looking solemn, nodding in agreement until he’s satisfied and continues on.

The dirt path leads right to the shack, and Eddie opens the door to let you in. It’s about the size of a studio apartment- wood stove and sink next to the bathroom door, twin bed draped with a thick quilt budged up under the single window. Small, but homey and clean.

As you take it in, spinning in a slow circle, Eddie sets your duffel next to the bed and runs a hand over the top of his head, haloed frizz of his hair springing back into place. “Ain’t much, I know- usually just host the town rascals; they bring their sleeping bags and fight over who gets the mattress. But the sheets are washed, and-”

“Eddie.” You stop his rambling with a hand to his arm. “Seriously, it’s great. Better than great. I was probably gonna end up sleeping on the streets tonight, and you saved me from that. So… thank you. I mean it.”

The vulnerability in your own voice catches you off guard, but you decide to lean in to it. Eddie’s been nice for no reason- or, rather, because he seems to be a kind person- and you want to make sure he hears how grateful you are for a place to stay.

He’s staring down at your hand on his bare arm, eyes clouded with something you can’t parse out; you draw your hand back, which prompts him to speak- “Shit, darlin’. It’s nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You can stay as long as you like.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insist, arms crossing over your chest, rocking back on your heels. There’s a sudden swell of panic rising like bile in your throat; this morning, you were hell-bent on leaving, and now, you think it’ll kill you not to stay.

“Listen-” Eddie’s eyes snap up at the urgency in your voice, but you manage to push through- “I know I didn’t tell you much, about where I came from, or what I did to end up…”

On my own. The words stick in your throat, tears pricking threateningly at the corners of your vision. “...out here. But I grew up on a farm. I’m used to working livestock, riding horses- I can be helpful. Can earn my keep over the weekend, at least, doing whatever you need-”

Eddie interrupts with a shake of his head, your stomach plummeting until he says, “Got enough farmhands as it is, honey. Don’t need you getting your pretty hands dirty.”

“There has to be something. I can’t cook worth a damn, but I can clean-”

“Hey.” Eddie’s tone of voice slips into a low, soothing register, like you’re a spooked animal caught in a trap. He steps closer, and when you don’t flinch, he settles his big hands on the tops of your shoulders. “Shh. It’s okay. Like I said earlier- I’m not expecting nothin’ from you. Okay?”

There’s gotta be some sort of magical effect happening, an old Celtic carving under the floorboards, maybe a witch's spell braided in with the dried herbs hanging on the far wall. You’ve never felt so looked at before, like you’ve swam beyond your depth and Eddie’s hands are a life raft.

His eyes flit around your face, taking in the expressions you’re surely flickering through before he says, quietly- “If you want, how ‘bout you stay ‘til the end of summer. Help out where you can, and come Fair time, I’ll deal you in on the profits.”

You open your mouth to argue, and smooth as butter, his right hand slips up your shoulder, tattooed fingers wrapping firm around the back of your neck, thumb tapping the pulse point under your jaw, insistent- “This way, you’ll have cash enough in your pocket to go anywhere you want. It’s a good deal and you damn well better take it.”

You wonder if he can feel the jackrabbit pulse of your heartbeat under his thumb. When you nod, he gives a dimpled smile, satisfied. “Good. Now I’ll let you settle in and get washed up for supper. Come on over to the main house when you’re ready.”

Before the door shuts behind him, Eddie adds, “And don’t get too excited. I ain’t much of a cook, neither.”

After his footsteps have retreated down the path, you collapse onto the mattress, springs squeaking. You flip to stare up at the ceiling, running your fingertips over the ghost of his touch branded against your neck, almost nauseous from elation.

A whole summer. On Eddie’s farm. With Eddie.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, you get up to unpack your duffel, then fold your meager clothes supply neatly into the top drawer of an old oak dresser in the corner, still room enough for your canteen.

The last thing in your bag is a twine-wrapped leather pouch. Your butterfly knife makes quick work of the knots, and then, the last of your most precious things in the world are laid out on the bed.

A certificate of completion from Indiana U’s Beekeeping Department, folded and creased but still valid, signed by your last field mentor.

A driver’s license with your old address, square photo of a younger and more hopeful you smiling back.

And lastly, an engagement ring. Gold, with a teardrop-shaped diamond center and sparkling accent stones trailing up either side of the band.

It twinkles when you hold it up to the evening sunbeam streaming through the window; reflective pinpricks of light scatter and dance across the quilt.

In quick succession, you slide everything back into the pouch, securing it with the drawstring before burying it inside the hidden pocket of your bag.

Then, you shove the duffel under the bed until it hits the wall, and turn away to wash up for dinner.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie #cowboy!eddie x honey!reader #cowboy!eddie x reader

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aphrogeneias · 1 year

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 — overstimulation

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: switch!eddie. handcuffs are used with no safeword, but consent is discussed and given explicitely.

One of the first things you'd asked Eddie when you took in his room for the first time was if he had ever used those handcuffs on someone.

It was mostly a joke, really. You liked to watch him fluster, the ever confident boy — at least, on the outside, but you'd grown to know better — putty in your gaze. Saying things that would make Eddie blush and stutter was almost like a game to you, seeing how far you could push his limits.

That's until he started talking back.

Subtle, clever comebacks. Sometimes he'd just chuckle and smirk at you, and you would lose all the composure you were carefully building around him. Tiptoeing between friendship and something more, fantasizing about friends didn't do. Pushing the boundaries until they were only blurred lines and lingering stares.

Eddie must have not forgotten that question. One night, when you'd just finished smoking the second joint of the evening and contemplative silence fell over his room, Judas Priest's Defenders of the Faith spinning in the background, he blurted out, "I'd let you use them on me."

He kept looking forward, straight to where the infamous handcuffs hung on his wall. There was a slight tinge of pink in his cheeks, but you didn't know if it was from the high or if he'd just admitted something he wasn't quite ready to.

You turned to him, "Been thinking about it, huh?"

"What if I have?"

You stared at each other for what seemed to be a long moment. All it took was a nod from you, not trusting your words, and Eddie was handing the handcuffs to you, as one would submit something precious to another.

You got lost in the feeling of it. Watching Eddie undress and lay himself in the middle of the bed, pliant as you locked the cuffs around his wrists.

When they were secured in place, it started to really settle in. You were going to do this. "If you… if you want them off, you tell me, okay?"

"I will, sweetheart." His eyes seemed even bigger from above, deep pools of warm brown pouring into your own. You were used to Eddie's intensity, but this was different.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He didn't want them off. Not when you started kissing him, slowly at first, and then growing hungrier by the minute. You could tell Eddie struggled, wanting to touch you, but when you lowered your kisses down his neck, and further down, down, down, he was compliant in your hands.

You couldn't help but feed on it. Running your nails down his pale torso, watching his skin redden and his back arch. Finally taking him in your mouth, wrapping your lips around the wet, hot head of his cock, sucking it before taking more of him in your mouth, humming at the raw taste of him. You switch between stroking him and licking from his base to the head, taking him deep within your throat, pressing into the delicious bush he hid beneath his briefs, and pulling back all over again.

Eddie whined and cursed, breathless. "Fuck, fuck, fuck baby… That fucking mouth, it's gonna kill me."

Speeding up your movements, you got spurred on by the slick sounds of your mouth slurping on his length, and his moans that grew louder and louder as he got closer to the edge. You dragged it on as much as you could, relishing on the taste of him, the weight of his cock on your tongue.

"Please, please, sweetheart." You heard him whisper, "Let me cum, please. Wanna cum in your mouth. That sinful little fucking mouth is gonna make me cum."

It was your turn to smirk. You took him in your hand, jerking him off in earnest, while you took your mouth to his head, licking and sucking the sensitive flesh, feeling him twitch under you. It didn't take long until he was cumming, with a long groan that you were sure the entire trailer park was privy to. Not that you cared, you were too caught up on the power trip that was having the most beautiful boy you'd ever seen melt beneath you.

When he was, you didn't stop. Working him up again with your hand, lavishing him with praise. You didn't stop until you saw tears in his eyes, incoherent sounds coming from his bitten lips, hips trying to arch away from your mouth.

You didn't stop until you were seated on him, taking his sensitive cock inside of you, reliving a bit of the tension that had been growing inside of you, wet without even being touched. Riding him until he begged you to take his handcuffs off.

You did, but you didn't stop then, not even when he grabbed your waist and started fucking up into you. Not even when he flipped you over, and you were the one in his mercy.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #kinktober 2023

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melloreine · 10 months

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They’re kinda “wanna run lines in your trailer?” Coded 😔

#one piece #fanart #one piece fanart #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan fanart #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim takes off #spto #spto fanart #todd ingram #wallace wells #todd x wallace #tollace

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bloxach · 7 months

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Wanna run lines in your trailer

#scott pilgrim #toddallace #todd x wallace #wallace wells #todd ingram #fanart #my art #spto #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim fanart

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wildemaven · 7 months

Note

sweetest heidi!! congrats on 1000 my lovely 🤍

can I request a main dish blind drabble?!

Pedro character: let’s gooooo Javier Peña or Jack Whiskey Daniels! chef’s choice 😉

numbers: 3 and 283

😘😘😘😘

losin’ you | jack ‘whiskey’ daniels

pairing: bull rider!jack daniels x barrel racer f!reader word count: 1287 content warnings: 18+ blog: some angst, reader and jack have history, some forgiveness but he has to work for it, reader has a rebound fling, reader rides a horse but no other physical descriptions, this is an AU, cursing, I think that’s it. notes: Kay! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to this!!! I hope it was worth the wait 💕 Shoutout to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for a specific line (I won’t give away which one it is)

It’s not a world you think you’ll ever be used to. Roaring crowds and blinding lights accompanied by the adrenaline rush as you race against the clock doing what you love. It goes against the quiet life you dream of having on some land, miles outside of the bustling town and an even longer dirt road entrance to deter solicitors. But it pays the bills enough to get by for now.

Bouncing from rodeo to rodeo can be lonely, even with all the cheering from fans and their undying support. All in the name of making a living and a name for yourself with the hopes of becoming a champion barrel racer.

Tonight is a little different. Run after run chasing the fastest time. Arena dirt kicked up straight out the gate. Weaving around the three strategically placed barrels, all sharp turns and calculated verbal cues to carry you past the line. 13.58 seconds was all it took to secure the top place at the end of the event.

Instead of hiding out in your trailer with one of your two closest friends Bravo, who both happen to be a 15 hand Chestnut Quarter Horses, you allow yourself to revel in the celebration and enthusiasm fans are showering you with.

The vibrancy in the air is palpable after leaving Miller to rest up in your trailer. An effervescence pounding in your chest— all your self doubt and fears dissipating into a plume of contentment.

It’s a feat in itself meandering through rodeo dust and small crowds wanting pictures and messy signatures on your walk to pick up the grand prize shiny buckle and winner’s check, hoping to get on the road before the announcer calls the last event for the night.

The sight of a cowboy loading your tack and saddles in their proper compartments has you stopping in your tracks. Watching as he moves about with familiarity. Feeding Miller his favorite treats, already loaded and secured in his trailer stall. Bridles and lead ropes hung on their designated hooks. Gooseneck hitched into the bed of your old pickup truck.

Seemingly taking care of your long list of tasks effortlessly.

“Congratulations, Sweetheart.” He says as he latches the tack room closed, his hand giving it a good shake before turning to look at you.

“Jack—“ You’re sure he doesn’t miss the way your face almost lights up at the sight of him. Quickly controlling your expression to something a little more neutral despite wanting nothing more than to run into his arms.

“The boyfriend ain’t around is he?” His voice tempered as he took a look around, expecting a six foot something man to walk out of the shadows swinging.

“Benny? Why? You wanna compare buckles, see whose is bigger?” You snark at him, tossing your earnings in the front seat of your truck.

“Don’t wanna step on anyone’s boots if I’m not welcomed, is all.” Such a stark contrast from the man who would go toe to toe with anyone who so much as looked in your direction.

You roll your eyes as you stalk past him to open the small trailer window to allow Miller to hang his head out.

“No he ain’t around. Fell for some cute buckle bunny over in Austin. Besides— he wasn’t my boyfriend. Just a fun rebound, ya know since you broke my heart and all.” He can sense the hurt in your voice, looking to where you’re running your hand over Miller’s velvet nose

“Sweetheart, ‘M sorry.“ Jack says meekly looking to where his boot is dragging over the dirt, his tone barely audible with noise coming from the stadium cheering on the roping finals.

You know he isn’t referring to Benny and the whirlwind of a fling that he was. Seeing other people, serious or not, was part of the agreement. Benny Miller was a good time for a short time, long enough to keep you distracted from the way your heart ached for Jack.

“It’s fine. Besides, it got a little weird with his last being Miller, too. I was losing track of the amount of times he used the line ‘wanna take Miller out for a ride? And I don't mean your horse!’”

“That wasn’t what I was referring to Sweetheart and you know it. I was talkin’ about that night. I’m sorry—“ Oh, so this is a real apology. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him sound so defeated in all the years you’ve known him.

“Surprised you were able to get that big time ego of yours through the front gate. Now that you’ve got nothin’ holdin’ you back from all those sponsors and big money.”

You chance a look over to him, propped sheepishly against your trailer, hands tucked in his pockets, too ashamed to look at you directly as you call him out. Not sure how long you want to drag this out and tell him how much you’ve missed him.

“I came here to see you race. Watch you win big— jus’ like we always wanted.” He turns to meet your gaze.

“We? I think what we wanted were two very different things, Jack. I wanted to win big doing what I love with the man I love. You wanted— what was it you said that night ‘take a break a break so you could figure things out’ among the other shit that spilled from that stupid mouth of yours.” You throw his words back at him as you stomp the short distance to him, causing him to straighten up in preparation for more of your own words.

“I thought that’s what I wanted. Guess it took me losin’ you to realize I was wrong. I want you. More than the sponsors. More than the fame. I need you more than all of that shit combined, Baby.” He confesses sincerely.

The warmth of his touch has your knees nearly buckling when he brushes some dirt with his finger off your cheek.

“And so you thought you’d waltz your Mr. Professional Bull Ridin’ ass in here? Lookin’ all handsome wearin’ those blue tight jeans and my favorite denim jacket of yours. Hopin’ I would just take you back just like that?” You sound harsher than you intended to.

“Well, I didn’t even think I would make it this far. I was sure I’d already be staring at your tail lights by now.” He quips, giving you a glimpse at that lopsided smile of his you’ve missed more than you should.

You study him for a beat. Your eyes flitting across his face, each one of his beautiful features still as heart melting as always.

Against your better judgment you kiss him. His lips molding perfectly over your own. Like a puzzle you once had and misplaced. Now found and situated where it belongs.

“It’s gonna take more than an evening of groveling to get you outta the dog house— but it’s a start.” You flick the brim of his black felt hat, turning on your heels in the direction of the passenger side of the truck.

He’s amused by your candor. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, watching the way your hips sway a little more deliberately until you’ve reached the truck door.

“If I remember correctly, the 8 second ride time only applied to the arena?” Biting at your bottom lip at the remembrance of the way he took care of you in so many ways.

“Yes, ma’am!” His hat tipping with a slight nod.

“Well, this truck ain’t gonna drive itself home, Cowboy.” Giving him a wink as you hoist yourself into the cab, watching the dust kick up behind him as he sprints to the driver’s seat.

#agent jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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covetyou · 6 days

Text

performance enhancement

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: anxiety/stress, Dieter Bravo being a stubborn asshole, cute baby animals, vaguely fluffy word count: 1k summary: I couldn't stop thinking about that baby pygmy hippo and what Dieter would do if he saw it, so this fic was born. you're welcome.

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"I can't work in these fuckin' conditions!"

You hear him before you see him, sat scrolling through your phone as you wait the few hours still left until you have to pick him up. You'd got here early - as you usually did - even though Dieter was frustratingly late more often than not.

The door to the trailer is wrenched open a moment later, and you're raising your eyebrows in disapproval at the grumpy actor as he flings himself inside the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't do it," he huffs, turning anxiously in a circle, hands on his hips, running through his hair, balling into fists. "I can't fuckin' do it."

"Do what, Dee?" you say from your position curled up on the small bench seat in the trailer.

"This!" he yells, turning to face you gesturing in the vague direction of his face.

You make a face at him, still clueless as to what he's talking about. In a long line of things Dieter Bravo could be frustrated with "this" didn't really help to narrow it down.

"They want me to," he begins, fannining his eyes. "They want me to leak, and I can't."

"Cry?," you laugh. "Dee, it's in the script, of course they want you to. Have you tried the tear -"

The actor rounds on you, shaking his finger in your direction before you can even reach for your bag to see what you have to hand to help.

"No! I do not need performance aides."

"Dieter, it's just to help yo-"

"No!"

Dieter yanks off the thick knit sweater that makes part of his costume and dumps it uncermoniously onto a chair, shaking his arm in frustration as the sleeve just won't give up its hold on his wrist, growling at the garment when he's finally free. He rounds on you again when he's a little more bare, a little less claustrophobic, and flops down next to you.

"I'm not doing it," he says simply, as he tucks himself in beside you on the bench, and that's that, discussion over. You know better than to argue when he's like this so, with a roll of your eyes, you flip your phone back over and continue your aimless scrolling as Dieter's head finds its place on your shoulder.

He fidgets for a little while, the bench not really big enough for the two of you to curl up, until he's slumped down and half turned toward you, legs splayed out in front of him where yours are tucked beneath you.

"Can I watch?" he murmurs sadly a moment later, his face pressed into your arm and eyes screwed tight.

"Dieter, that's up to you. They're your rules, not mine."

Dieter didn't have a phone of his own. Not right now, anyway. That was locked away back at his house, awaiting the day it could be reunited with its owner. For now, all he had was an old send-texts-and-make-calls-only brick of a phone for emergencies, that he mostly used to bug you at all hours of the day. It was a rare day you weren't greeted with a "u up x" text in the morning, or a garbled jumble of letters as he forgot how to text with a number pad.

"I wanna watch," he mumbles into your arm, face pressed so tightly to you now you can feel his lips move against your skin.

"Then go ahead."

You watch then as he slowly opens one eye, peeking out shyly before opening the other and staring wide-eyed at your phone screen. You're only scrolling mindlessly, not really paying much attention to whatever the algorithm is throwing your way. Some stupid ads, spoilers for a show you're not even watching, the red carpet looks of a movie premiere Dieter was invited to, but couldn't make it, and endless shitty takes from random internet strangers. Just a normal day for the internet, but amazing for the man next to you who had kept himself away from the world of unsolicited advice and badly shot paparazzi pictures for weeks.

"Wait," he says suddenly, sitting up and scooting closer to you. "Go back, what was that?"

You scroll a little slower as you move back through the endless monotony on your phone, until Dieter goes stiff by your side and grips your arm.

"That," he says. "What's that? Is it fake?"

Something in you swells, oddly proud at the man for knowing to question something he'd never seen before rather than taking it at face value. More than once he'd come to you gushing over an image only for you to take one look, see the 8 fingers, and have to break the disappointing news to your employer.

"She's real," you say, opening the video for Dieter to take a look. "She's been everywhere the last few days."

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, transfixed on your phone screen. "Look at her. Get that girl an Oscar. Is there more?"

"Yeah, Dee, there's more."

"Can I see?"

You move to hand him your phone, but he refuses to take it, instead choosing to snuggle into your side as you search for the baby hippo that had taken his attention. A few minutes in you almost expect him to be sleeping by your side, but a small sniffle and the swipe of his hand tells you otherwise. Crying over baby animals wasn't new for Dieter, and each time he did it, you found it unbearably sweet. Eventually, he shifts by your side and squares off his shoulders, before standing, grabbing up his ugly sweater, and pulls open his trailer door with a determination to rival his earlier resignation.

"I think I can go back now."

You don't look up at him, transfixed on the tiny hippo staring back at you from your hands. A 180 flip like this wasn't unusual for Dieter. It probably wasn't even his first for today. Either way, you'd still be here when he got back from filming the last scenes of the day, ready to cart him back to the apartment he insisted you stay with him in.

"Do you need the tear stick? Drops? I've got some in-"

"No," he says with certainty. "No, I've got this. Just... just gonna think of that fuckin' hippo."

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x gn!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics #yes this is somehow a moo deng fanfic now #still not the weirdest thing I've written

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mynameismisty · 8 months

Text

MINE|JOHNNY CAGEX FEM!READER

☆SUMMARY: Johnny wasn't a jealous man, but you with his co-star seemed a bit too over the line.

☆ORIGIN: I don't really have a song for this LMAO btw this came from a request, thanks anon! The request is rlly long soo💀

☆WARNINGS: NSFW, obvious p in v, jealous sex, creampie, praise

MINORS DNI

You knew Daniel. He was one of Johnny's co-stars, and a friend of yours. You had come to know it after he flirts with you multiple times, knowing you were with Johnny. But Johnny didn't seem to mind at all, you knew he wasn't jealous, he was just a bit protective. He knew when it went too far.

On a day where you got to the set first before Johnny, Daniel was on the set filming a scene and apparently, the girl he was supposed to make-out with... wasn't there! And who was?

You.

"It'll just be a small little session, darling." Daniel purrs, holding you by the shoulder after convincing the director to just put a wig on you. "C'mon, aren't we friends?"

"I don't wouldn't want to-"

"But we won't kiss anyway! Just some good ol' hollywood fake-a-roo."

Still, it weirded you out that he'd be presumably slobbering over your cheek in attempts to make the scene look real. You hoped no one would tell Johnny.

So they filmed the scene, and just like you thought, you had Daniel making out with your cheek and the Camera behind him where they could only see your hair and kissing noises.

After, it was like nothing happened. You went back to Johnny's trailer to just hang around until he came. Going over to the sink, you washed your face thoroughly, turning off the faucet and getting a scare.

"Johnny, baby!" You let out a yelp, holding onto your chest.

He stood, just beside the locked door of the trailer. You must've not heard him due to the water running.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He said, it was obvious venom laced around his words.

"Huh? Enjoyed what?"

"That little make-out session you and Daniel had."

"Johnny-"

"Oh, but you enjoyed that, didn't you? Liked him kissing all over you?"

"No! We just filmed a scene since the other girl was gone!"

"Still," He walked over to you, managing to pin you on the small counter in the trailer, you leaning back in fear that he might bite. "Does it give you any permission not to talk about it to me first?"

"But, baby! It all happened so quick- I-"

"I- I- I-," Johnny imitated in a mocking fashion. "Answer me, does it give you any permission not to talk to me about it first?"

"N...No.."

"You know I'm not a jealous man, right, sweetheart?" You nod weakly. "But that just crossed the line."

You knew you were definitely in for a wild ride.

“Oh fuck, Johnny, I can't!" You moaned into the pillow, gripping the sheets tightly.

"You like that?" He pants, holding you by the hips with a death grip as if you were going to run away any minute. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Ah! Yes, Johnny, yes!" You felt a hand smack over your ass as he pushed his dick undeniably deeper into you. You felt Johnny slap it again and again, watching it jiggle, loving the sight of you squirming and moaning uncontrollably.

"You like that, huh? You like making me show my limits?" And you could only moan in response.

Johnny's pace slowed down as you whined. "Come on, baby, if you wanna cum, work for it."

"Johnny!"

"No buts, c'mom pretty girl. But you tell me who's the only person to make you feel like this and I'll help you out."

You moan, pushing your pussy back to him. "You do— ahh— please—!"

"Good girl," He cooed, this time lightly pulling you by the hair (but still having his other hand on your waist) gently and increased his pace. "Go on."

"Y-You! Only you can make me f-feel like this!" You stuttered over your own words, writhing and moaning uncontrollably.

"Mhm."

"Ahh! Please, make me cum!" You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, about to rip into two pieces as you try to hold onto the damn bed.

"Yeah, baby, just— fuck— keep talking."

"Only you, J-Johnny! I love you, n-not anyone else!"

Your ass, moans and arched back were just too much for him, burying himself into you as you felt that knot snap in two "Ahh- fuck, Johnny!"

Your orgasm washed over you, thighs trembling, threatening to give out on you, your pussy clenching around him and your juices dripping down the sides.

He wasn't done though.

"Such a good girl for me." He pounded into you, over and over again until small tears started to flow from your eyes. "Yeah, I know baby, you're sensitive?"

You nod, too tired to have anything else come out your voice rather than moans.

"Come on, make those sounds for me, pretty girl, don't hide 'em."

That made you moan even louder as he pushed into you back and forth, leaning over you so his mouth was just next to your ear. "You like that, baby?"

You felt your second orgasm approach, clenching your pussy around him and tensing up a bit.

"My girl gonna cum on my cock again?" You could feel his smug grin pressed into the back of your neck. "Fuck, yeah, hold on." He still pounded into you but you felt him reach out for something and opening it, rubbing over your back.

Then you realize. He's writing his signature on your back. In Sharpie.

"You look good like this, babygirl— shit!"

He felt you cum again, juices slipping iut faster this time and he couldn't hold back.

"Ahh, fuck, shit, baby!" He pushed your head into the pillow as he came inside you, shoving all of his seed into your stomach that it made you feel full.

"J-Johnny..."

"I know, baby, I know.." He kissed you on the forehead. "You're sorry, right?"

You give another weak nod.

"Mhm, don't worry, baby, just don't let it happen again, yeah?"

You give a sigh and fall asleep, body plumping to the side as you hear Johnny get up to go grab a towel.

"Think I'll need a talk with Daniel."

💚

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #johnny cage #smut #mortal kombat smut #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you

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brooooswriting · 1 year

Note

Hello! I’m sorry to hear you got writer's block :(

May i request “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”, with Jenna Ortega please?

I hope it helps! 🫶🏼

Funny story

Jenna Ortega x reader

Being an actress in a relationship with another actress isn’t always the greatest thing. There are fans, paparazzis, other celebrities and more things that will try to pull you apart but sometimes our self destructive minds are enough to do that.

The moment you and your girlfriend, Jenna, heard that you were cast in the same movie you were over the moon. You’ve always loved the scream movies and playing in one was a dream come true, especially since you have already met a big part of the cast due to Jenna.

The ‘over the moon’-phase was over when you got the script, you were still unbelievably happy but the fact that you’d play somebody else’s love interest wasn’t ideal. You didn’t really mind that much and Jenna, well she acted like she didn’t, but deep down it nagged her.

You’d play ‘cute girl’ (you’re taking cute boys place), Sams love interest from next door. You were happy to work so close with Melissa as she was incredibly nice and thoughtful making the whole filming a great experience.

“Y/n, wanna hang out later? We could run some scenes and get to know each other better, it makes the whole filming easier” Melissa said as she sat down on her chair next to you, “sure, Jenna is filming late today anyway” you quickly texted your girlfriend to let her know where you were before grabbing your jacket and walking with the older woman.

After you guys were out to eat you went to a small park where you ran some lines, practiced some movements and arrangements until it was completely dark. “Shit, it’s pretty late. I should get going, I bet Jenna’s waiting” you said your goodbye and hugged her before walking to your car.

“Baby, I’m Home” you called out when you entered the apartment but you didn’t receive an answer. “Baby?” You called out again as you went into the bedroom where you found your girlfriend sleeping with your pillow in her arms. You cooed before you got ready for bed and went to join her. She grumbled when you pulled the pillow out of her grip but shut up when she noticed your present next to her.

The next morning was like every other morning, you guys woke up, got ready then made breakfast and quickly ate before driving to the set. “So, where were you so long yesterday?” The brunette in front of you asked as you drank a sip of your coffee. “Oh, Melissa and I went to eat something and then we ran some lines” you answered with a small smile before asking how her day had been.

The moment you arrived on set Melissa pulled you away to discuss something causing Jenna to scoff before making her way to the makeup department. Jenna didn’t see you until you had to film a scene where Tara, Sam and their friends were in their apartment and you had eye contact with Sam from your window. While your girlfriend was already walking towards you to greet you with a kiss, the director had different plans as he immediately send her back so they could start filming.

She hated this, all of it. She hated the way the actress looked at you and even worse, she hated how you looked at and smiled at the other actress, it seemed too real. So the moment the scene ended she sprinted towards her trailer leaving everybody confused.

As it was your last scene for the day you had enough time to look after Jenna. “Jen?” You carefully whispered when you entered her trailer to see her sitting on a chair in the kitchen. “What’s wrong hun?” You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and kissed the back of her head causing her to melt into you. “Nothing, I was just a bit overwhelmed” it wasn’t hard to see that she wasn’t 100% truthful but you decided to give her space.

“Jenna, we need to film the next scene. Oh and y/n, Melissa wants to see you” Jasmin yelled from behind the door causing your girlfriend to jump up and walk off. But you quickly grabbed her wrist to pull her back into your arms, kissing her softly, before letting her walk away. You followed behind the two to find Melissa.

The filming has been rather weird, you barely saw Jenna as either you were spending time with Melissa or she was off doing who knows what. She barely talked to you at the moment, making it hard for you to concentrate and even worse, it made you crave physical touch. You missed her hugs and you missed the cuddles, the kisses and holding hands.

People on set seemed to notice that there was something wrong as especially Melissa and Jasmin offered you a whole lot of hugs whenever you wanted. It did ease it a bit but it was nothing compared to Jenna.

After barely seeing you for two weeks the small brunette finally decided to watch one of your scenes, possibly the worst scene she could have chosen. It took place after Tara’s and Sams fight where the older girl sat in the lobby waiting for you.

Melissa sat on the stairs playing with the rings on her fingers while you got yourself ready behind the door you’d walk through. Jenna sat on a chair behind the cameras.

As soon as the mark came you pushed the door open and went to get your mail, counting to five in your head before you made your way toward the older carpenter sister. You walked past her in a normal pace and slowed when you reached a certain mark on the floor, it gave Melissa the time to reach for your wirst and pull you back. Once you were situated in the right place she nearly threw herself at you, her hands on your shoulders pushing you against the wall while yours landed on her waist. In a matter of seconds her lips landed on yours in a aggressive and passionate kiss, you loved Melissa but it was uncomfortable. You could feel Jenna stare right through the woman.

When you parted you saw Jenna fuming and as soon as the scene was over she grabbed your hand and pulled you away. You were deeply confused by her behavior, not just today but the last weeks.

And then again you were pressed against a wall with someone’s hands on your shoulders, but this time it felt like home. Sure, the kiss wasn’t gentle or anything, it was rather the opposite. It was like she was trying to show anyone who could kiss you like that and god, did she know your buttons. In a couple of seconds your knees were bucking and you had to suppress your moans which was when she started to attack your neck.

In that moment Jenna wasn’t completely focused on you, she was making sure that Melissa saw how you melted under your touch, grinning when she was how the woman looked away embarrassedly.

You lightly pushed her away, “let’s get to my trailer okay?” This time you grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Her eyes were focused on Melissa, a wicked grin sporting her face while the other actress was rather confused.

As soon you entered the trailer she was on your neck again, biting down to leave a mark. “You’re mine” was the only thing she whispered against your neck and at that moment the lightbulb on top of your head lit up. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” You giggled as the other woman only grumbled.

After a small moment of silence she finally spoke up as she threw herself onto the bed. “How couldn’t I? She’s been taking all of your time, I barely saw you, people have taken pictures of you wan started shipping you and you guys have to kiss, like constantly” she was throwing her hands around as she was clearly frustrated.

You felt sorry for her, you didn’t know that she felt like that. You sat beside her and pulled her into you. “I’m sorry you feel that way, I didn’t know. When you distanced yourself I actually felt rather lonely and Melissa was there so I guess I used that. But I love you more than anything else, Melissa is just a friend and who cares what the fans think? I love you and that won’t change”

“I love you too”

@yourinstagramname

@yourinstagramname: the only love of my life ❤️

The next day Jenna said sorry to Melissa before making it clear one more time that you were hers. “Jenna we talked about this, and she has a boyfriend” Your girlfriends face fell and turned red. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Let’s just say Melissa couldn’t stop laughing.

At least it was a funny story.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #jenna #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Text

Warnings: Slight language, smut, thigh riding, touching, NSFW, and fluff!

A/N: Brief blurb that is based on tonight’s mood! I love y’all! ❤️💘

You’d become accustomed to feeling bad as the start of the week approached. It meant less sleep, more time at work, no free hours for working on the house or catching up with your friends. And most importantly, it meant that seeing Eddie wouldn’t be as frequent as those Saturday mornings you spent with him, forgetting the entire world existed and only he remained with you. This week’s promise, however, overwhelms you and you leave that part out as you kiss your boyfriend goodnight and flip over, tugging the sheets until they rest over your cheek. The wind outside picks some fall leaves into its breeze, bringing them into slight whips against the window beside your shared bed.

With the lights off and the trailer quiet, you do nothing but stare at the Corroded Coffin logo in your sights, tears gathering over your sclera, ultimately blurring it. You’re disappointed with yourself, knowing you’ll be barely conscious during your shift tomorrow if you don’t get some sleep, but you can’t fathom it. Everything weighs you down into the bed, making you shift in discomfort, restless and agitated.

“Sweetheart, why are you still awake?” Eddie’s rasp is slightly slumbering, on the cusp of a full blown sleep. You’re brimmed with guilt, furthering it by attempting to lie.

“M’ fine, baby. Just go to sleep, okay?”

You berate yourself for the crack in your voice that Eddie immediately picks up on. He reaches to you and grips your side, pinching the fabric of your t-shirt between his fingers, and he tugs on you, rolling you onto your side and scooping you into his chest. Even through the darkness that’s blanketing the bedroom, you can still see his chocolate eyes wide with concern. He’s patient, calloused thumb brushing along your jawline. There’s simply silence for a few moments, a comfortable one that’s all you and Eddie.

“I’m overwhelmed. I don’t want to deal with this week. It’s shit already.” You give him.

“And you neglected to tell me this before you got yourself worked up, princess?”

“Eddie,” you sigh. “I’m not worked up (total lie), this is just me being frustrated.”

“So being completely ‘overwhelmed’ isn’t a big deal? I call total and utter bullshit.” His tone isn’t tense, just bordering on that stern fondness he carries when you fib to him—albeit—small.

“Eddie, please…” Fuck, you did not mean to let that sniffling whimper slip.

“Shit,” he’s more prone to finding your skin and touching you, bringing you impossibly closer as he speaks. “Baby, are you crying?”

He fumbles behind him for the bedside table lamp, switching it on. His curls are frizzy from his pillow, his chain the singular piece of jewelry he’s wearing to bed tonight, laying across his inked chest. The sheets pool around his boxer clad waist as he settles with his back to the headboard, doe eyed and reaching for you. “Come here, talk to me.��

You nearly climb into his lap, folding your body into his slender frame and letting your emotions run through your system. Eddie rubs your back through it, pressing kisses across the expanse of your head.

“Don’t wanna be away from you so much. I can’t fucking stand it.” You’re choking on the words, cheekbones raw with the salty moisture.

Eddie rears back a bit, wiping away your tears with a look of finality. He’s apparently formulating an idea, one that is fed off your body language. You’re unbelievably clingy, touching his tattoos, tracing their glossy lines with your fingertips, flicking his pick chain. Your breathing has begun to accelerate, both from the nerves and the need. Eddie finds your mouth and captures it with a sloppily executed kiss.

He digs his palms into the meat of your thighs, dragging you into a straddle over his hairy leg. Pushing you down into a sitting position on his thigh, he uses his leg muscles to give a slight roll. You whine and take his offered hands, fingers lacing together. “Eds.”

“I know, sweetheart. Take what you need tonight, yeah?”

Eddie isn’t surprised to find your panties have dampened when he presses his pointer finger into the fabric, dragging the seam across your cunt. “Look at you. So needy and perfect for me. Let’s get these out of the way so we can take care of you.”

~*~

Your entire nightly ensemble ended up on the floor, Eddie’s hands using your tits as guiding leverage as he helped move your soaking wet pussy across his thigh. His skin is completely soaked in your shine, your clit sticky against him. He wants his mouth on you, his tongue in you. But for now, this is all about you. He whispers praises that caress the shell of your ear, making your nipples harden against his hands from the stimulation his hot breath brings.

“That’s my sweet and good girl. You like rubbing your little pussy all over my thigh? Making a real mess of me?”

You nod, edging closer to your orgasm, those tears finding you again—this time in the best of ways. Eddie beckons you, one hand filtering underneath your chin. “That’s it. I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t rush yourself. Take me nice and easy.”

He nudges your nose with his own, his free hand stroking your cheek, pressing your lips into his, breaking away seconds later for you to breathe through the tightening in your abdomen. “Eddie…” You’re warning him, shy, vulnerable, geared to go.

He nips at your earlobe and releases. “S’ okay, I want you to. Cum on me, sweetheart.”

Eddie dips his hand between your thighs, parting your labia and gliding his thumb pad alongside your clit, helping you. Whether it’s the vulnerability of tonight, or the position, you come harder than you have in a while, vision whiting out and legs closing around his thigh and hand. He works his wrist to help you ride out the wave, his other hand leaving your breast and cupping the back of your neck, pushing your forehead against his. He watches you as you watch him, spit-slick lips barely touching by the time you calm down, collapsing into your senses and into your partner. He’s extremely hard beneath you, automatically brushing off your advances to help him after you catch your breath.

“This wasn’t about me. I was taking care of you, you got that?” He taps your temple, smiling thay Eddie-soft grin.

“I love you.” You seek his plush mouth out once more, kissing each corner, leaving your worries behind and pouring out all of your affection.

Breaking away, Eddie pecks your nose. “Talk to me next time something—anything—is wrong. Or there will be lots of talking coming from me, and in the lecturing variety.”

“Eddie Munson, I could listen to you talk for hours.”

~*~

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detachedminxsfics · 2 years

Text

Improv

Characters: Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Actress F!Reader

Summary: You just wrapped for the day on the set of The Walking Dead, and you can't stop thinking about your impending first scene with Negan, more importantly, playing Negan's lover.

Word count: 2.6K+

Warnings: NSFW - Vaginal sex, slight rough fuck, creampie, fucking JDM in his Negan fit bc its hot

A/N: Tried something a little different to celebrate 100 followers! I'm so thankful, and eternally grateful for all the continued love on my Negan stuff. Tysm! <3

You idly tapped your feet against the floor as you held the script in your clammy hands, the spot you'd sunk into on the sofa warm with how long you'd been sitting. You'd gone over it a thousand times, and yet still feared that you wouldn't be able to act it as well as you would like. Jeffrey was most likely still out filming one of his many scenes in the Sanctuary, but you were wrapped for the day. Your characters hadn't gotten the opportunity to interact with one another on-screen yet, but tomorrow that was all going to change. The dynamic between you and Negan was intended to leave one hell of a lasting first impression on the fans, and you needed to maintain the hot-blooded chemistry you were so thrilled to portray. You skimmed over your first scene with Jeffrey for the thousandth time when the door to his trailer swung open, and a weathered black cowboy boot stepped in. He was still wearing his Negan outfit, minus the leather gloves and usual wielding of the infamous Lucille. He looked good, and tired, judging by the huff he entered with as he closed the door behind him.

"Hey." Your small mutter to make your presence known faintly startled him, and he spun to face you with a hand hovering over his racing heart.

"Shit darling, you scared me. Everything alright?"

Your lips formed a small smile, and you waved the script around in your hands to accentuate your point.

"Just going over our scene, y'know since we gotta shoot it tomorrow? And I think, I'm just not sure about it."

You and Jeff didn't know each other awfully well, but you'd spoken in passing between takes on the Sanctuary set, and under general introductory circumstances.

"Oh yeah? Talk to me." He set down the script he had been holding before making his way over to you and lowering himself down onto the space beside you, your fingertips still fiddling with the edges of the pages as you gathered the courage to confess your doubts.

"It's just, who Negan loves is so important to his character. And Lucille is so important to him in the comics, and such an iconic centerpiece to his storyline, and I'm just worried I won't be able to portray the love between our characters authentically enough. Like I can't measure up to that."

He listened to every single one of your words attentively, even nodding in places as you spoke. It was reassuring.

"Look, I've seen you act, and I've seen how much of a badass you are. You're gonna be great, I've got no doubt about that. But if you'd like I got a short break between takes, and we could run our lines together. Just to get a feel for the scene."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you glanced down at the script page in your hand. Your character's first scene with Negan is intended to set the tone for their not-so-public and flawed bond, and what the two of them mean to one another behind closed doors, essentially, in a clothes scattered on the bedroom floor kind of way. Nevertheless running through this scene with none other than the man himself would surely calm some of your nerves, and the offer was just too good to resist.

"Sure. Do you wanna stop just after my last line?" The reason you asked was that the moments that followed after your last line of dialogue was a rather steamy sequence of kissing and shoving, the scene set to cut just as you and Jeff hit the mattress, partially nude.

Jeffrey stood to his feet and made his way over to where he'd left his script, making brief eye contact with you as he flipped to the relevant pages.

"I say see what happens, and we'll do whatever feels natural. Sound good?"

"All good to me."

His eyes lowered back to skim the page, and you stood to your feet too, setting your script down on the coffee table considering you already knew your lines off by heart, thanks to your paranoia. After spending a few moments with the script Jeffrey set it down and glanced over at you, an obscure smile on his face.

"I'll walk up, and you just pretend I'm coming in. You ready?"

"Ready."

Your nerves begged to differ as to your level of supposed readiness, but you averted your focus on executing this scene. Jeffrey took a few steps back until he was on the other side of the trailer, and the elaborate shift as he immersed himself into the character was incredible. His jaw was slightly clenched with a signature scowl to match, and the way he sauntered with that leather jacket just demanded attention, it certainly captivated yours. You were sure you had gotten into character now too, feeling as you shifted the weight from one leg to the other, flexing your hip as you stood. She was bold with a firecracker attitude to match, so it was no surprise Negan was drawn to her.

"Honey, I'm home." Jeff bellowed with that noticeable drawl to his voice, and a wide unnerving smile to match.

"What do you want, Negan? You've had me standing in here longer than I ought to be, like one of your damn wives."

He feigned offense from your displeased tone, every step bringing him closer and closer.

"Well hell, aren't you just happy to see little ol' me? You're a busy woman these days."

You rolled your eyes a little at Negan's blatant self-flattery.

"I'm busy because I've got a duty to do, a job you tasked me with. If you don't like not seeing me that much, get somebody else to run my damn post." You narrowed your eyes to pair with the slight venom laced in your tone, and he closed most of the distance that was left between you.

He was invading what was left of your space now, his smile still lingering on his lips as he exhaled a mock, surprised breath at your rather brash words.

"Oh, what a big mouth on you sweetheart. If you keep forgetting exactly where you stand I might just take your suggestion on board, it would seem you've forgotten your manners."

Jeff swept a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he chastised you for your curt attitude, and you had to redirect your focus back to continue with the scene. That wasn't scripted, and you felt as though it was just a taste of the kind of improv an actor as experienced as Jeffrey would be accustomed to, and it exhilarated you.

"Not forgotten, I'm just sparing with them. Besides, we both know that if you're gonna take shit from anybody, it's me."

The slight clenching of his jaw showed that you were pushing him, urging him into toeing the line of his limits with you. He softly cups the line of your jaw, his thumb resting against your chin. Another non-scripted gesture that made the attraction between the two that much more believable.

"Alright, let's cut the bullshit, shall we? Rick the prick and his band of dickless assholes are proving to be more of a handful than we thought. I've mellowed him out a little, but I need someone I can trust back here, someone to hold the line while I deal with it. And as much as I love Simon, well, he's just not the man for this kinda gig. This is a job for my girl."

You subtly softened your stare, leaning into his touch. Though she could be a hardened, callous woman, she had a soft spot for him. It was important that the viewers could see that, could see that she had weak spots. More importantly, just to see them be vulnerable with one another.

"Your girl, hm? There's a room down the hall with six other girls that are yours too, what's supposed to make me believe I'm so different?" She was teasing him, testing the waters and gauging the level of his commitment to their secret love affair.

You kept your panic internal when you realised you uttered your last words, your features still as relaxed as they had been throughout. Jeff was thoughtful too, the whirl of thought taking place in his eyes. And though you barely knew each other enough for this kind of level of expression fuelled telepathy, you read him anyway. His eyes were wondering whether you were comfortable going ahead, and your slow lean toward his face was your answer. He responded rather fluently, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was meant to be tame and yet hungry, starved, and full. Your eyes fluttered closed, and the feeling of a hand gripping your hip to further pull you in made you all the more eager. Jeff was a good kisser, a real slow and rhythmic kind of guy. Your arms wrapped around his neck just as the script had prompted, and the movements of your mouths lasted a lot longer than you ought to. He placed his other hand on your hip to draw you towards the wall of the trailer and slam you back against it, pressing his chest against yours, positively trapping you. It was when his fingers played with the hem of your lace trim tank top that you realised you weren't acting anymore, and truthfully, you weren't sure you minded. His mouth was on your neck, his teeth making diligent heated nips at your skin, mindful of the fact that you couldn't have any marks showing for the filming of the show. You breathed a shaky, hesitant moan, and Jeff pulled back to yank your top over your head. When he leaned back in to press his lips against yours you gently placed a hand on his shoulder to halt him, and he glanced at you with a mixture of confusion and longing.

"You forgot your line." You hummed teasingly, tilting your head as you playfully chastised him for his mistake.

Jeffrey grinned at you, the lust having corrupted his gaze conveying his true lack of care for continuing with the scene, and that he surely was no longer pretending.

"Whoops, fuck it." He muttered with a sense of impulsivity, and the next thing you knew, your feet were no longer touching the ground.

He lifted you, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist whilst the grip on the underside of your thighs supported your body. The trip to the sofa was brief and rushed, and you fell into the inviting cushions a lot sooner than you thought. Jeffrey was on you in seconds, so fast that you feared you'd forget to breathe. His fingers clambered for the zipper of his black leather jacket, but your words interrupted him.

"Wait. Keep it on, I like it."

Your confession had him raising his brows, a staggered look in his eye as he fiddled with his belt.

"Sure can do, we just can't make a mess of it." He said matter of factly, pulling his now undid belt through the belt loops, and slinging it onto the ground.

You too undid your pants, pulling and shimmying your jeans off until they'd gathered at your calves. You kicked them off, and your panties were discarded shortly thereafter. You were bare besides your bra, totally exposed. When you glanced up at Jeff he'd pulled his boxers down just enough to free himself, his pants still on just in case he was suddenly called to set. You spread your legs to make adequate space for him, and he was more than happy to oblige. He settled into the space you made, placing a hand on your waist as he leaned down to hover over you, the smell of leather and expensive cologne wafting past your nose. Then you felt him, easing in at first, pacing you. Your mouth fell open as your breath hitched, and an embarrassingly breathy moan followed suit. The hand on your hip slightly clenched, gripping you, whilst the other got lost in your hair, sifting through the strands as he eased you through the onslaught of pleasure.

"God, you're so good."

His praise only made you that much more wanton, and his low groans filled your ears afterward. You were in heaven. He was the perfect scene partner, your undeniable chemistry was off the charts, and he was insanely skilled with your body too, something to which you were currently discovering. Jeffrey's thrusts grew harder, faster, a more brutally unforgiving pace as he bottomed you out entirely. His touch was merciless, and your wild and primitive whimpers were positively matched with the way his hips hungrily connected with yours. Your lips smashed together, thankfully muffling some of your noisy and earnest moans. Everything was just bliss. He tasted so good, and he felt incredible. It was as though he knew every inch of your body, and treated it as such. You were intoxicated with him, and the heat pooling in your abdomen only intensified with every thrust. When you could no longer restrain yourself you let go, his lips parting from yours enough to break the kiss but remain brushing, eyes wholeheartedly focused on you as you quivered beneath him. Your rather vocal and intense release was enough to tip him over the edge himself, and he filled you. His throaty groans filled the trailer again, filthy sounds that he hardly made any effort to stifle. You were utterly dazed, still coming down from your high when he lifted you from your place on the sofa in order to turn you towards him, and to lay the back of your head down across his lap. He'd adjusted his pants back to their presentable state, leaving you still nude, panting and splayed across him, but you didn't mind. One hand still stroked through your strands, the other idly planted just below your chest.

"Well, it would seem you've got nothing to worry about when it comes to authenticity. You are beautiful."

Your eyes lit up, and a small smile played on your lips. You parted your lips to respond when a knock on the door of the trailer startled you both, and the sudden sound of a voice from the other side of it.

"Jeffrey, you're needed on set."

A woman politely informed, and he attempted to suppress the disappointment threatening to trace his response.

"Got it, just give me a minute." He called back, a short silence ensuing as the sound of progressively distant footsteps eventually resumed your privacy.

He glanced down at you with a hint of irritation, not at you, but at the situation. He wanted to stay here with you a little longer, at least long enough to make sure you were okay, and to not make it seem so sleazy. But he couldn't. Feeling that he was about to stand up you leaned up, straightening your back as you sat up, and gave him the space necessary to stand. He stood to his feet and smoothed a hand over his somewhat messy hair, the slick that he'd been styled in having gotten ruffled during your spontaneous improv.

"Listen, I'm gonna be shooting through the night, but I've got a room at a hotel not too far from here, same hotel all the others are staying at. It's room 100. Let yourself in, get comfortable, and I'll see you there."

He finished his more demand than a request by rummaging through his pocket until eventually retrieving a set of keys, and he tossed them at you. You caught it with a smile, and you gazed back at him, top teeth dragging flirtatiously against your bottom lip.

"I'll be there." You responded with the hope that you didn't sound too desperate in your enthusiasm, and he took off.

Running your lines with him wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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