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lost-pen-name · 6 months ago

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Tom Ryder x fem!reader

Summary: You were about to leave Tom’s suite when a heavy rainstorm started. Not wanting to risk trying to drive in such poor conditions, you grabbed your stuff from your car, returned back to his door, and asked if you could stay the night. He, begrudgingly, obliged and allowed you to stay in the guest bedroom.

Genre: Fluff, cuddling, comfort

Word count: 2176

Warnings: none

{ you came? you called. }

You were sitting alone in bed, trembling like a leaf, when the power went out in Tom Ryder’s house.

The light flickered for a moment before going out completely, along with the rest of all things electrical. The house was unsettlingly quiet and felt off without the hum of the fridge or air conditioner.

Lightning crackled outside. You pushed yourself a bit out of bed, debating on the idea to go look for Tom, just so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that would mean leaving the safety of your room.

“Tom?” you called out instead. You looked back at the large window across the bedroom. Even with the curtains drawn, light flashed across the room sporadically.

Farther across the house, you swore you could hear someone moving around. Your heart pounded and you waited, holding your breath, hoping it was Tom coming to check on you. You just needed to know another human existed right now.

There was a THUD and a curse that came after. It sounded like it came from farther down the hall.

A second later you heard an “Oi, what happened?” That familiar voice came from your doorway and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You breathed a sigh of relief and swiped at an unshed tear. You prayed your voice won’t have too much desperation in it. “You came.”

“What? Of course I did. A woman screams my name out in the middle of the freaking night, I’d be crazy not to come.” He sounds agitated and tired but you don’t care, you’re just clinging to the fact that there’s someone here now. “Why’d you call for me? I hope you know I almost died on the way over here. The power’s out, I can’t see a bloody thing.”

Lightning lit up the room and you caught a glance at Tom Ryder standing in the doorway, wearing only a pair of loose fitting sweatpants. A series of thunderclaps shot an arrow of anxiety through the bubble of thought of how gorgeous he looked even at 1am.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe deeply. “I... I didn’t want to be alone. Not with this storm raging outside.” You gestured towards the window just as thunder booms again.

You heard him sigh. “What am I supposed to do, crawl into bed with you?”

The idea of having someone close to you overpowers all the reason in your brain screaming at you that this wasn’t good for your business relationship. The fear of being alone in this storm trumped all rational thoughts.

“Could you? Even just for a bit?” you said.

There’s a moment of silence before you hear his footsteps and he’s at the side of your bed. You look up at him and gulp. Maybe this was a dumb thing to ask.

“Fine. But give me some blanket.” Without another word, he’s on the bed, crawling into the covers. His bare feet touched yours for a brief moment before you quickly moved your body far away that side of the bed.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care. You watched him as he shifted around, getting the pillow right for him, the blanket pulled a bit over to his side before he relaxed and breathed heavily.

You can feel your heart hitting against your chest painfully and you don’t know if that’s now entirely because of the storm or if it had anything to do with sharing a bed with Tom.

He breaks the silence. “I called Gail, asked her what the whole situation is about the power and all that.” You see him wave his hands around as he talks. “She said it’ll take a few hours, maybe even ‘til morning before we get any power back. So, we’re in it for the long run.”

That was longer than you had hoped but you guessed you should’ve expected it to take that long. “Okay,” is all you can manage to get out through your tight throat.

You both grow quiet again. The awkwardness of this all keeps hitting you so you break the silence. You twisted your head to look at him. “Sorry, I know this is kind of weird.”

“Yeah, well,” he said dryly, “it’s mainly weird because I didn’t need to know how many stuffies my employee has. How old are you again?”

You’re dumbfounded. He’s choosing now to judge you? And for what, bringing in the small stuffie collection you had in your car? That was so like him. It was oddly both reassuring to have the normalcy and frustrating. “You’re such a jerk, Tom Ryder,” you said.

Quiet. Then an indignant harrumph. The blankets shifted and you felt the mattress dip as he pushed himself off. “Well, fine, if that’s how you’re going to treat me.”

You rolled over to his side of the bed, trying to ignore how nice and warm it was. “Wait!” You grabbed his hand before he went too far. “Tom, wait, please don’t go.”

He peered over his shoulder at you. “Make me.”

Your heart sank a bit. There he goes again, always with the attitude. “Well, you’re kinda proving my point here,” you whispered under your breath.

“What was that?” He turned fully around and squinted down at you.

Goodness gracious, he kinda does look glorious standing there, his bare chest making it hard to formulate sentences, his usual strategically tousled hair ruffled and unkempt. And he doesn’t seem to notice you’re still gripping onto his hand, not that you mind. It’s hot and rougher than you expected from a privileged celebrity.

Thunder claps interrupt your ogling and a nervous ripple hits you. The anxiety might’ve left for a bit but the thought of Tom leaving you alone again with the storm sends all of the worry back into you.

“I didn’t actually mean that, you know that. I was joking around,” you said. Your free hand clutches at the covers.

“I come in here and, and, what? I’m being incredibly nice to you and you insult me as a joke?” His tone carried a bit of a whine to it.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You inhale and exhale with a quiet and quick, “pleasedon’tgo.”

His frown softened and he glanced down at our hands entwined. Lightning danced across the room for a moment, lighting up the room enough for you to spy the smallest smile from him.

You gaped at him. What did you say that earned you a gentle smile from THE Tom Ryder?

Before you can think about it too much, he sighed and leaned down to get back into bed. “Hey, scoot over.”

You let go of his hand and moved back over to your side of the bed.

He fell into the covers and put his arms behind his head, cushioning his head on them. He sighed again. “You absolutely should be grateful, you know.”

“I am,” you whispered.

Thunder booms, closer than any of the other times and you winced. Your breathing is becoming too fast, too irregular.

Tom turned on his side, angling his body to face you. “You’re really scared of storms then?” His usual condescending tone is gone. It’s replaced with something softer.

You nodded, even though he probably can’t see it in the dark, and pulled the covers up to your chin. “Ever since I was a little kid.”

He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. “Do you know why?”

“No. I just get anxious whenever there’s a storm. I can never go to sleep when there’s one happening.” You closed your eyes and put a hand on your chest, trying, willing yourself to just breathe normally.

A huge series of thunder crashes outside and the house shudders, breaking off any thoughts you had. Your body reacted in an almost fight or flight instinct. Without even stopping to think, you slid further into bed and towards Tom, pressing your body against his, your face and his pecs aligned. Your hand wrapped around his arm and you squeezed your eyes closed, praying that the noise will come an end. It sounds like the grand finale of the thunderstorm, like the storm is proud of this last act and wants to show to the world just as loud and powerful it can be. The heat coming from Tom’s body and the solidness of him is the only thing tethering you and keeping you from going too far over the edge.

Finally, it’s quiet. You panted and opened your eyes. His flesh is the only thing in your vision. Your eyes focused on a freckle on his chest and there’s a small part of you that has the urge to kiss it. A blush creeped up with your neck. You realized your nails are digging into his arm and you snatched your hands away.

You can not believe you just freaked out and clung to your boss. In bed. This had to be against so many employer-employee work ethics. If this doesn’t get you fired, you don’t know what will.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, sitting up and starting to push yourself back away from him.

His hand shot out and stopped in your tracks. “No,” he said thickly.

Just... “no?” You have no clue what that meant. He’s probably angry at you now or thinks you’re even more childish, reacting like a baby koala clinging to her mother just because of some storm. With a sinking feeling, you overcome your fear of whatever you might see on his face when you look at him and glanced over at him.

Even in the dark, you can tell his expression is the most serious you’ve ever seen in the months you’ve worked under him.

That was not what you were expecting.

“What did you do about these storms when I wasn’t here?” His voice is low, almost stern.

You pushed your hair back awkwardly. “I don’t know, wait it out? Hide under my covers? When my sister stays at my place sometimes, she’ll calm me down.”

“And how does she do that?”

You swallowed hard. What is he thinking? What is he planning to do with this information? “She holds me until it’s long over.”

Tom’s hand tightened a bit at that. You looked down at it on your arm, you had almost forgotten it was there.

“Well.” He sniffed loudly. “Come here then.” He let go of you and opened his arms, like he’s welcoming you to a hug. The most muscle toned and chiseled hug ever.

Your heart pounded. “You really don’t have to do that, you’ve done more than enough. And the storm sounds like it’s almost over.”

“If your sister does it until the storm is completely over, then I’m going to do it better and do it all night.” He waved a hand in exasperation. “I’ll feel like a heroic knight saving a princess. So stop being stubborn and come here.”

His words are said so easily but the weight of them hits you like a brick. Sure, he always likes being better than everyone and doesn’t like being beaten at anything.

But this was excessive, even for him.

And somehow, in a weird way, it was sweet.

Not knowing what else to do but listen to him, you awkwardly scoot closer to him. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you in, forcing your body to be pressed against his and closing whatever distance you had. Now your head is next to his pecs again, his strong arms around you, cocooning you in. His skin is warm and you can faintly hear his heartbeat. It’s a steady pulse, its gentle rhythm is calming to you. You can feel his chest as he inhales and exhales and you start to match his breathing.

The world has calmed. You feel calm. And safe, surprisingly. Safe and secure with the world’s hottest superstar but to you, a flawed man you’re slowly beginning to realize you enjoy spending time with. Maybe you’re starting to like him, not just tolerate him.

“Thank you, Tom,” you said quietly as you stared up at the ceiling.

He shifted slightly and you feel his sigh ruffle your hair. “Mhmm.” It’s just a sound but it sounded like an audible shrug, like he didn’t think you meant it.

You smiled softly and closed your eyes. “No, really. This is helping. So thank you.”

His chin nestled in your hair as he got comfortable. “Whatever, I’m glad to help.”

Did he sound embarrassed? You grinned bigger. “You’re the best boss ever. You’re like... my hero, my knight in shining sweatpants.”

He groaned. “Now you’re laying it a touch too thick. Be quiet now, I’m trying to sleep.”

You covered your mouth with your hand and laughed quietly. “Okay, okay, goodnight, Tom.”

He murmured a goodnight and pulled you in further, his legs wrapped around yours, practically hugging you like you’re a body pillow. It’s nice. Really really nice.

You smiled again and leaned into the hug.

Okay, maybe you do kinda like him.

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happy74827 · 6 months ago

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I Want To Be Your Lover

[Colt Seavers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve always felt something for Colt, resorting to a friendship as he is completely unaware. But when he comes knocking at your door… it’s hard to not connect reality to fantasy {GIF Creds: @colt-and-jody // Please go and watch the edit they made of Colt + Jody. Literally Amazing 🤩}.

WC: 2199

Category: Slight Fluff + Spice/Lime, First Kiss, {TW: Mentions of Murder}

Obsessed… I’m so obsessed with him…

FALL GUY SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

His hands grasped your face as he pulled you close, your heart pounding, breath quickening. The way he could pull you up onto him without warning and how it was so effortless. The way he'd hold your thighs around him as he made out with you, his hands traveling up your thighs, then under your shirt, touching your bare back, your waist, your chest.

Then he'd lean into your ear, those stupid lips kissing the bottom of it, gently, delicately, but firm and knowing. It was the way he'd whisper something so unserious that would almost turn you off him for a minute, but then he was smiling with those stupid dimples, eyes sparkling like the stupid sea, and you couldn't help yourself from melting all over again.

That’s what you believed about Colt Seavers. That was the dream, the fantasy, the perfect little love story between the two of you; that was the life you'd created in your head. He was the love, the life, the future.

But the sad truth was, it was only a dream because the real Colt Seavers was painfully oblivious.

He would laugh, smile, and give you that wink that was meant to be sexy but was actually kind of stupid, and then he'd be gone, and you'd be left with that aching in your heart.

The one that showed the fact that you were a friend, nothing more. A good friend, a best friend, someone to be close to, someone to talk to, but not someone to love. Not the way you loved him.

So you would often find yourself in your head, where it was safe, where there were no consequences. Because in your mind, Colt did notice you, he did care, and he did love you back. In your mind, he'd wrap his strong arms around you and kiss you with all the passion that you'd wanted for so long.

In reality, you'd be walking along beside him, listening to his voice, laughing at his jokes, and wishing that he would see you, the real you, and not just the friend.

And then, one night, it was as though the angels had heard your prayer.

You were sleeping, probably dreaming of Colt if you were honest, when you were awoken by knocks at your door. At first, you thought it was your imagination, or the wind, or whatever, but it happened again, and you groaned, throwing the covers off you and shuffling your way to the front door.

When you opened it, you were surprised to see Colt standing there, looking as if he had gone through hell and back. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had the most pitiful expression on his face.

You stared at him for a moment before speaking.

"Colt…?” You still couldn’t believe it was him. “What’re…what're you doing here?"

Colt shrugged and looked down. "Can I… uh, spend the night? Here?"

Your mind immediately went straight to the gutter. The two of you, alone, in your home, late at night, and no one around.

Yes, yes, yes.

But you weren’t completely lost to him. You were still aware of the situation and the fact that you had no idea what was going on.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Don’t you still have a hotel room? Since you’re working?"

He started at you, blinking, while you waited for an answer. He seemed almost taken aback by your response, but he didn’t seem surprised.

In fact, his expression turned a bit sheepish. If it weren’t for the fact that it was late and that you were so confused, you would have found it adorable.

"You haven’t watched the news yet, have you?" He asked.

You frowned. "No. Why?"

“Good, that means you’ll let me in."

Before you could reply, he took the opportunity to step inside. You watched him, eyes wide, as he made his way into your kitchen, opening the refrigerator, pulling out a drink, and grabbing a slice of pizza from your leftover box.

It wasn't until you heard him groan that you snapped out of it.

"Colt? What are you doing?"

"Eating,” he said with a mouth full of pizza. He was sitting on your kitchen counter. “God, I miss this, and I don’t know why."

Sometimes, your crush on him was questionable, especially times like this.

"That's great," you rolled your eyes. "But why are you here? And what about the news?

He paused for a second and then looked at you, eyes soft, a small, apologetic smile on his face. It almost melted your heart.

You didn’t even realize the fact that he was soaked until that moment. And was he… was he bleeding?!

"Colt, are you—”

"I’m wanted for murder, which, to set the record straight, I did not do," he answered, taking another bite of pizza.

"Wanted for—what?!" You practically shrieked.

He held his hand up to stop you and finished his bite of pizza before speaking again.

"I know, I know. Crazy, right? This pizza, by the way… amazing. Where did you get it from? Dominos? This… This is what heaven tastes like, I think. It's gotta be.”

You were stunned. Speechless. Absolutely flabbergasted.

He didn’t even seem to notice your distress as he hopped down from the counter and threw the now-empty pizza box into the garbage.

"Long story short, the world thinks I’m dead after Tom — who turns out to be even more of an asshole than I thought — tried to have me killed to be the fall guy of his murder. Didn’t work, obviously, but it's not like he knows that."

He continued talking, but at this point, you had zoned him out. Your head was spinning, and you could barely keep up with him as he paced around your kitchen.

"So, anyway, I got away, and now I have to stay hidden and all that jazz. Hence, why I'm here, I couldn’t go anywhere else. I figured you would let me crash here tonight. I hope that's cool. And hey, if not, then that's fine; I can… find a ditch of something to sleep in, or a hay bail, or a cow shed, or whatever. It's cool."

You still couldn’t process it. None of it made sense. You weren't sure if you were dreaming or not. Maybe it was a nightmare. You had been thinking of Colt all night, and now he was here, and everything was insane.

You weren’t even sure if he had stopped talking or not or if he had noticed the fact that you were practically catatonic.

You needed to lie down. You needed to think. You needed to…

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Colt waving his hand in front of your face. A normal behavior for him, but somehow, right now, it sparked something inside of you.

He dropped his hand when he noticed the stare you were giving him. But it wasn’t just any stare, no. It was one that said a million things at once.

And you were sure he saw it because he, too, had a look. One that was much different than the one he normally gave you. One that was a bit more… serious.

His eyebrows were furrowed together, he had a frown on his lips, and his eyes were softer but also darker and deeper. They were the eyes of someone who had gone through some shit. Real shit.

It was a look you'd never seen on him, and you were sure the look you gave him was a first for him, too.

Different reasons, of course.

And for a moment, you had forgotten that this was the real Colt Seavers. Not the one from your fantasies, not the one from your dreams.

But the real Colt.

Which meant you had to take a moment to collect yourself. Acting out and getting all crazy and lovey-dovey wasn't something he needed right now.

"You… can stay. Of course you can," you sighed. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed, is all."

Colt's serious face didn’t drop, but he did nod, understanding.

"Thanks. I'm sorry for barging in here and acting all crazy. It's just I had nowhere else to go, and I figured… you'd be the one to understand."

You smiled softly. "Don’t worry about it, Colt. Seriously. You can’t even kill a bug. So, a murder charge is the last thing I'm worried about."

The corner of his lip twitched into a slight smile. "Did I ever tell you about the time I caught a rat?"

"No. No, you did not."

"Yeah, it didn’t end well.”

“For the rat or you?" You grew a grin on your face.

“I’ll leave that to your imagination," he teased, glancing up at the ceiling. It gave you a chance to examine his face. Messed up and bruised, but it was still him—still your Colt.

"So… the rat won?"

"He put up a good fight, I'll tell you that."

"Did you cry?"

"Nope, I was a total badass."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure. Taylor Swift would be so proud."

"I know she would."

"She'd probably write a song about it."

"Well, duh. Of course, she would. How else would she immortalize our love story?"

It was at this moment that your brain and your heart finally got in sync, and you realized exactly what was happening.

By the time you looked at him, just to see if his tone matched his expression, Colt was already staring at you. And even though he was smiling as he normally would, his eyes were different.

You couldn’t make it out, but something was there. Something that wasn’t usually there but was now, and it wasn’t a nice feeling. It made you feel uncomfortable.

It was the same feeling you had when you caught him talking to girls but then flashed his smile at you. When he'd call you his 'best bud' and then hug you for a little too long.

This was that feeling, but worse. So much worse.

You’d see this part in your dreams, but they usually had a happy ending, one that included a kiss. Well, more than a kiss.

You’d take the initiative, and he’d go along with it, slowly becoming more and more in control until it was him, him, him.

And in the dream, you'd kiss him and feel him on you, his hands traveling up and down your body, his breath hot against your neck, his lips leaving marks all over your skin.

But when you opened your eyes, usually you were back in bed, the fantasy ending. And it was hard not to feel sad.

But, for some reason, when you opened your eyes this time, Colt was still there. And his hands were still touching you, and his breath was still hot, and his lips were still kissing you.

You weren’t sure if this was reality or not. You had dreamed about him so many times it was hard to tell the difference.

But the longer you kissed, the more it felt real.

You had no idea how you got there, how it had happened. All you knew was that Colt's hands were grasping your face, your hands were in his damp hair, his mouth was against yours, and the whole murder thing was forgotten.

And it was a good kiss, too. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl, your body tremble, your mind go blank, and the only thing you could focus on was the craving for more.

It was a desperate, needy, passionate, hungry, messy kiss.

When Colt pulled away, you were breathless, and your head was spinning. Your lips were numb, and you could barely stand, but Colt had an arm around your waist, holding you up, his other hand still touching your face delicately, tenderly.

"That was the best pizza I've ever had," he breathed out. "Ever. In my entire life."

It was at this moment you knew for a fact that this was the real Colt and the real you. And you were both awake, and it was happening.

Colt Seavers, the boy or man you'd loved forever, had finally opened his eyes.

And you were going to kill him.

You were going to actually, truly murder him.

He couldn't kiss you like that and say something stupid like that?

But before you could get a word in, he was kissing you again, and you were melting, and all anger had vanished. A lot of power this boy had over you.

This time, the kiss was different. More controlled, calmer, sweeter.

He took his time and savored every second. It was a lot more intimate, and the hand on your face was gone. Instead, it was on your neck, tilting your head upwards, and his other arm was around your waist, keeping you close.

When you were left breathless, he didn't pull away. Instead, he continued kissing you, his lips traveling down your jaw to your neck.

You gasped, feeling his tongue on your neck and his hands roaming your back. It was the exact fantasy you'd imagined for so long. Except this was so much better.

Because it was real.

It usually takes me about two to three fics before I fully “understand” the character’s personality… and Colt turned out to be MUCH HARDER to write about (I kept rewriting this from the beginning at least 10 times). So, apologizes if you this sucks and is totally ooc 😬😬

I half-heartedly blame it on the fact that my memory is garbage and I’m too broke to rewatch it in theaters.

But, nonetheless, I’m happy to add and help populate the growing fandom — even if this isn’t up to par.

And to everyone who is still reading this, thank you for making me not feel alone with my Fall Guy obsession 🥹🫶

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nyxvuxoa-writes · 4 months ago

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Hello! Could I please get #22 with Tom Ryder? And if possible could it have some jealousy-driven angst? I love your writing so much, you’re one of the bests in this website (along with your wife) 😍

Thank you for your kind words! I hope this hit's the spot for you.

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝘽𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨

Tom Ryder x F!Reader

◢ Genre: Prompt Request — Suitable For Adults Only. Minors will be blocked.

◢ Warnings: 18+ only, please. AFAB Reader. PWP (slight plotting, mostly smut). Angst. Tom is jealous, maybe a little paranoid. Drunk and high Tom. Slightly drunk reader. Mentions of drinking. Mentions of drugs. Mentions of a party. Smut. Marking the reader with hickeys. P-in-V. Mentions of orgasms and cum. Mentions of Tom saying you're his.

◢ Word Count: 1.7K

◢ A/N: Gif was made by me, please credit me if you use it. Likes are enjoyed. Reblogs are always greatly appreciated. And I am always down to hear what you think.

2K Follower Prompt List

"Were you flirting back with him?" Tom asks, his tone sounding rough, almost slurring just slightly from the mix of liquor and drugs.

The party, as usual, had been nothing short of crazy. Everyone wanted to be around Tom. Everyone wanted to be friends with Tom. People fawned and pawed for his attention and his favor. None of them knew him. None of them actually care about him. It was just the glamor effect of being around a big celebrity.

A part of you hated it, but that didn't stop you from enjoying yourself. Still, he was searching for a problem that wasn't there.

"No, Tom." You respond sounding almost annoyed at this point.

You have given him the same answer a couple times now. Why was he reaching for a problem that wasn't there? You were faithful to him, even when he was a complete asshole. Even when he would allow some strange girl to hang all over him for attention.

Maybe you should be the one raising questions, but you didn't. You had this trust in Tom because he didn't give you a reason not to, as much as it might look like it sometimes.

Placing your hand on the wall, you brace your slightly drunk self as you reach down to take off your shoes. You slip off one, and then the other, stumbling slightly.

"Were you interested in him?" He asks.

You shoot Tom a rather angry glare. "Seriously, Tom? No."

You go to make your way through the apartment, shaking your head in disapproval. This was insane. He knew better, but when he got like this, there was no stopping that sometimes stupid vivid imagination of his. But his hand reaches for you, grabbing at your forearm tightly as he pulls you back to him. He jerks you slightly, forcing you to look at him.

"You're mine, Y/n. No matter what anyone else thinks or wants. And they think they can just have you like they think they can have everything else --- they can't."

Tom's tone makes you stop, your eyes searching his. This wasn't just some stupid argument for the sake of it because he was drunk, was it? You couldn't tell anymore. You go to pull your arm away from him, wanting to walk away. You didn't want to reward this kind of behavior, but he pulled you back, jerking on your arm a little harder.

"Tom, let me ---" "No." He cuts you off. "Stop -- stop brushing me off."

He lets go of your hand only to wrap his arms around you. His face grazes against the crook of your neck. You can smell the liquor and cologne mix on him, the scent filling your nose and it's almost as intoxicating as what you both had to drink. His breath is hot on your skin, causing goosebumps as he grazes his nose against your neck. His hand travels against your body, going to grip your ass as he pulls you as close to him as possible, his fingers pressing to your cheeks and pulling them apart slightly.

"What's mine is mine. You're mine. All mine."

You're frustrated with him, but the way his hands handled your body made you weak. He can hear as your breath becomes shaky, slightly heavier than normal. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him as he goes to carry you off, moving a little slow to not drop you or bump into anything.

"Tom, I gotta ---" You start to say softly. He caught you off guard. "Shut up." He cuts you off again.

He wasn't about to let you have a word in edgewise. He was tired of you brushing this off, or getting mad at him because he wanted to make a point. Since talking about it didn't work, he was going to make his point in a way that you'd understand. Drunk, high, or not, he knew what he wanted and he wanted you. He wanted people to stop trying to get your attention. That guy wanted your attention. He hated it. It got under his skin.

Your body comes to the bed and he lays you on it, hovering over you for a moment. The weight of him on top of you felt good, the frustration starting to fade as he ran a hand up your thigh and to your side. It creeps up under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way as his hand starts to fondle your breast. Your skin is sensitive, feeling hot as it responds to the desire that you always had for him.

Tom's lips feverishly press against yours before they start to trail from your lips to your jaw, and then your neck. He makes you moan slightly, your hips lifting up and pressing into his. This was much better than arguing or getting annoyed, but he still had nothing to be worried about when it came to you. Maybe you didn't understand why he responded the way he did, but you were tired of it.

Going to lift your shirt slightly, he fumbles a bit, wanting it off your body. You help him, lifting yourself up just enough to remove the fabric and the bra, then come to lay back down on the bed. His lips go to meet your nipple, taking it into his mouth like his life depended on it. He pulls slightly at it with his teeth, all while his hand moves from your side to between your legs.

Feeling his fingers meet your clit through the fabric, working the flesh in a circular motion, you gasp slightly. Your hands run through that tangled mess of shaggy blonde and brown hair. You pull at it slightly, feeling the vibrations of a groan against your breast. He knew exactly how to touch you, to cure that sense of bubbling frustration. His fingers pressed against the fabric of your pants a little harder, feeling as you started to become wet and it clung between your legs slightly.

Tom became increasingly excited at the response you gave him. His hips, pressed down slightly as he felt the restriction of the fabric that held him. With a heavy breath, he moves from you, his hands quickly gripping the waistband of your pants, pulling them down, and stripping them from your body, along with your panties. He tosses them to the side before he fumbles slightly, stripping his own clothes off and letting them fall to the floor.

It's just a matter of moments before he's between your legs. His hand grips the shaft of his cock, stroking it slightly against you before he guides his sensitive head between your wet folds. Both of you moan in unison as the length is pressed in deeply. He starts to thrust, his flesh meeting yours with deeply pressed, rough, steady paces.

The feeling of him makes your back arch against the bed. His lips meet your collar bone, nipping at your slightly before they trail against your neck. You can feel Tom nuzzles into you slightly, a hand gripping at your hip, the other braced next to the side of your head. Noises start to fill the room as Tom becomes increasingly vocal in his enjoyment of the way your body flexes around him.

"Ma-- Mark me, Tom." You stammer in a breathy tone. "What?" He asks, face still nuzzled into the crook of your neck. "Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to."

Your words bring out a sort of feral instinct in Tom. His lips press against your neck as he starts to pull at the skin between his teeth. You can feel the wetness of his lips, the warmth of it as at first it tickles and then a slight bit of pain. You moan out, your hands quickly moving against him as you aid to pressing his cock in deeper between your legs. He moans quickly, letting go of your neck as his lips part in a heavy breath. Your neck is left with a tingle of pain, a warm wet spot where his lips once were.

But he doesn't stop there. A low groan comes from him as his pace starts to pick up, pressing into you with a more fever of pacing. His lips meet a new spot on your chest, pulling again as he starts to leave another mark. Before moving to another spot on the other side of your neck, leaving another. Maybe you were never one for love bites, maybe in some way, you were. But in the moment, there was something about the action that had sent both of your bodies into a sort of overdrive.

The sounds of flesh meeting flesh become louder as the pumps between your legs become harder, a little more clumsy in nature. Both of you let out moans in unison as you two fit like perfect puzzle pieces. He comes to take that bracing hand and lowers it a little more, his body weight pressing against you as he rests on his elbow. His other hand, still gripping at your hip starts to leave little fingertip bruises against your soft flesh. You both work your motions together, your hips moving in synch as the pace starts to pick up more and more.

His lips move from your flesh to your lips, pressing against yours. Hovering little kisses at first before your two became more passionate. Your tongues start to dance together messily, letting out noises of pleasure between your breaths. You start to feel that tremble in your body, working its way from between your legs and throughout your limbs as you climax. Tom is right along with you. He presses deeper, faster, harder until that building presser lets go and releases his finish deep into you.

There's a heavy groan from Tom as you moan his name loudly, gripping the bedspread under you in an attempt to hold onto something. You both ride out those finishes, with twitches and heavy breaths. After a moment of silence, he shifted his weight to hover over you better once more. He still braces with one hand as the other comes up to grip your jaw. He looks over the marks on your neck and he boyishly smirks. Your head turns from one side to the other as he checks your neck. His grip on your jaw tightens slightly as he leans down, kissing your cheek.

"You're mine babe." He mutters softly. "All yours, Tom." You whisper back.

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Extra tags: @voxmortuus @earth-elemental18

#Tom Ryder x reader #tom ryder x f!reader #tom ryder x you #tom ryder smut #tom ryder fanfiction #tom ryder imagine #tom ryder #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #the fall guy #the fall guy fic #nyxvuxoa writes

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latenightreadingpdf · 7 months ago

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Fic Rec Masterlist

Criminal Minds

Harry Potter/Marauders

Marvel

Stranger Things

Peacemaker

The Fall Guy

Five Nights at Freddy's

Teen Wolf

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moonpascaltoo · 4 months ago

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AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON CHARACTERS FIC RECS

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all aaron johnson stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) <3

MASTERLIST • 11/04/24

TANGERINE

JAMES POTTER

DAVE LIZEWSKI / KICKASS

@anjaelle ✰ villian!reader

@astermath ✰ so? whatever. part 2 part 3 The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless. ✰ take a break dave has been overdoing the kickass activities, and you’re worried every other night could be his last. he tries to comfort you and tell you he’ll be okay. you’re not sure you believe him.

@growup-thatbeautiful ✰ gymcrush!dave

@murdrdocs ✰ request dave is the type of horny idiot that doesn't know that women masturbate too.

@pretty-little-mind33 ✰ knowing me, knowing you Being partners with Kick-Ass is far more intimidating when you have a huge crush on him, especially when he won't stop talking about his crush. ✰ if it wasn't for the nights You're having a bad day and you and Dave share earbuds on the bus.

@moonlightspencie ✰ do it for me

PIETRO MAXIMOFF / QUICKSILVER

@acciopietro ✰ a bit distracted in which pietro needs to start paying better attention. and maybe listening to his sister more.

@toothfa-1-ry ✰ i’ll be back before you even know it

@floral-and-fine ✰ the silent treatment Soulmate AU where the words their soulmate speaks first are tattooed on their arm.

@sebsbarnes ✰ hole in the wall despite barely knowing the brainwashed girl beyond the wall, pietro refused to hurt her, no matter how much she hurt him.

@/pretty-little-mind33 ✰ fernando You don't want to share a bed with Pietro. He wants nothing more than to share one with you. ✰ voulez-vous ✰ karma you hate Pietro for how he treats you, or at least you do until you're stuck in an elevator with him.

TOM RYDER

@nyxvuxoa-writes ✰ dating tom ryder would include ✰ love bites

@tangerinesgf ✰ smut request ✰ nonfan!reader

@pretty-little-mind33 ✰ the lucky one Tom books a role in a musical with the only one goal in mind. He wants to work with an actress he's been crushing on forever—you. ✰ anti-hero You're Tom's makeup artist for a movie he's shooting and you absolutely hate him. However, one round of karaoke later, your feelings temporarily shift. ✰ i did something bad When Tom Ryder cockily asks Colt if he can share you with him, your boyfriend is initially disgusted. You? You're less disgusted— ✰ the winner takes it all You try and convince Tom Ryder that doing his own stunt out of the blue is a very very bad decision.

COUNT ALEXI VRONSKY

@/pretty-little-mind33 ✰ lover Your husband comforts you on your period.

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

@/pretty-little-mind33 ✰ reader w/ an abusive ex hc

#aaron taylor johnson #tangerine #james potter #dave lizewski #kickass #pietro maximoff #tom ryder #james potter x reader #dave lizewski x reader #kickass x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #tom ryder x reader #count alexei vronsky #count alexei vronsky x reader #atj fic recs #aaron taylor johnson fic recs

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cheolism · 7 months ago

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BREAK AND RETURN

✰ — brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader ✷ — summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires. ✰ — wc is approx. 5k ✷ — genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend ✰ — warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it! yk it!), pet names (good girl, angel, etc), jealousy, possessiveness, and lust. backshots, off-screen masturbation, fingering and pussy-licking. lmk if anything else should be added :) ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this is a part of @beomcoups's "now that's 90's" svt collab! thank u very much for letting me join the collab! i had fun chatting n interacting with new people ^-^ i hope everyone enjoys the fic!! thank you very much to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and reassuring me <3 tagging @idyllic-ghost and @onlyhuis bc i think you both wanted tagged but i can't remember, so sorry!!!

here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid.

he knows better. he truly does. he isn’t some idiot stuck at a claw machine at an arcade, doesn’t keep feeding it his money while never getting any closer to winning a prize. minghao knows when to quit something, when to step away.

that’s why he broke things off with you, after all. he had thought it would be easy. the two of you weren’t in a real relationship. you weren’t like tom cruise and nichole kidman – the two of you were just fucking. no strings attached.

but of course there were strings attached. you’re the kid sister to his friend and bandmate, josh; at first minghao thought he would be fine keeping it a secret. he didn’t need to take you out on dates and show you off like you were the best thing since bon jovi. the two of you were content in each other’s arms, naked chest against naked chest, legs intertwined as you dozed off.

minghao, however, wasn’t stupid.

he knew there were strings attached to the both of you. he knew that it was a bad idea, fucking his bandmate’s little sister. every time he kissed your warm mouth, he knew he was betraying josh’s trust. it wasn’t fair of him to to that to josh, and it wasn’t fair of him to put you, josh’s sister, in a position to lie to your own brother.

so minghao took initiative and broke off the relationship.

he wasn’t stupid, and he knew the first time he would see you after breaking up with you would be hard. he knew it would be. it’s hard for real couples, for couples that hold hands as they walk down the street and talk about what to name the cat they’re going to adopt. he had imagined it would be hard, to some degree, to see you. the two of you might have steered away from such topics as rings and shared apartments and other things that left the fantasy of forever in your minds, but he knew you. he knew how you sighed after he kissed the space under your ear, he knew how you looked fresh from the shower with your face shining from the heat of the water. he knew how you looked when you concentrated on painting your toes, how you looked when you begged him to see clueless at the theater because josh thought it would be stupid and you didn’t know who else to ask.

he knew you, and perhaps that was worse than dating you.

he knew you, and you knew him, and minghao isn’t stupid but he didn’t know that seeing you again would hurt so much.

you look beautiful. you always do, according to minghao. you’re sitting on that old couch josh and him spent an hour trying to shove into the garage for their band practices. you’re wearing ridiculous clothes, baggy comfy pants and the ugly oversized sweater with the worn collar and checkers and stripes on it. you’re talking to soonyoung, hands waving excitedly as the two of you laugh. your beauty bubbles out with every breath of laughter, seems to radiate in your chest like a little star, and minghao knows that even if winona ryder was in the room with them he would still choose you as the most beautiful.

you catch sight of minghao. you shoot him a grin, large and inviting, as if he hadn’t made you cry last week. you give him a little wave. “hi, minghao!”

and then you turn back to soonyoung, your knee pressed against his.

it’s so ridiculous; he’s ridiculous. minghao feels his stomach twist, as if someone was wringing it like a wash cloth after doing dirty dishes. you’re beautiful and radiant, and you spoke two words to minghao before turning to soonyoung, as if minghao wasn’t anyone particularly special.

he can’t help but stare at you. you lift a hand, and, in a move he recognizes as you flirting because you’ve done it to him when you want him to fuck you, you tuck your hair back behind your ear. you are wearing small pearl stud earrings and immediately minghao recognizes them as the ones he bought for you a year and a half ago, right before the two of you started fucking.

you tuck your hair back behind your ear and soonyoung watches, his mouth parted a little, and minghao feels like he needs to punch something.

“funny, isn’t it?” josh says, appearing at minghao’s side. josh runs his tongue over his lip ring, pulling at the sleeves of his plaid jacket. “it looks like soonyoung’s got a crush on my kid sister.”

“yeah,” minghao says, throat tight. he watches as soonyoung edges slightly closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours. you don’t move away. minghao wants you to move away, or better yet, slap soonyoung.

minghao isn’t a violent person, either. he isn’t violent, nor is he jealous. but once he also had thought he was above the lure of lust, was above giving into the craving of needing your body against his, dick stuffed in your pussy and his mouth dominating yours.

maybe you just had some sort of power over him that no one else did. maybe it’s like that movie practical magic, and you’ve placed a spell on him, bewitching him.

“i think he’s going to ask her out soon,” josh carries on, as if he’s ignorant to the way minghao is one step from having a crisis. “i saw the drive-in is going to be playing jurassic park. i remember when it first came out and how much she loved seeing it at the theater. it’ll be a good chance for soonyoung to ask her on a date.”

minghao scoffs. “you know he’s scared of that movie. whenever we bring out the vhs he runs.”

josh shrugs. “if he likes her as much as i think he does, i think soonyoung will be fine.”

“and you’re okay with it?” minghao turns to josh, putting his back to you and soonyoung. “you’re totally okay with soonyoung dating your sister?”

josh shrugged, twisting his mouth a little in thought. “well. i think – i think he really likes her, you know? he’s not just gonna fuck her and leave her hanging around until he wants her again.”

minghao’s mouth sours, and he bites back a venomous remark. that’s what his relationship with you was like, wasn’t it? he has no place to try and insert himself between you and soonyoung’s blossoming relationship.

“you know how soonyoung is, though,” minghao says, despite himself. he folds his arms in front of him, drumming his fingers against his bare skin. he sees the little flower tattoo on his ring finger, the one he got after you spent an evening at his apartment drawing flowers into your lisa frank notebook with glitter pens. “he’s flighty. he’s never stayed with a chick longer than a month. what if he breaks her heart?”

josh hums. “i can’t keep her locked away in the house forever, hao. she’s grown. she can make her own decisions. and if that is soonyoung, the same soonyoung who refuses to drive without everyone wearing seatbelts and insists on someone holding his hand as he gets a tattoo, then i’m fine with that.”

minghao huffs. he walks away from josh, knowing that josh is right. you are grown and can make your own decisions. for a year and a half, that was minghao. you chose to go to his apartment, chose to get on your knees and offer your mouth. you chose to lay by his side, fingers gently tracing the vine tattoo that climbed up his left arm as minghao murmured about the future. for a year and a half you chose minghao, until he took that choice away from you.

and now you were sitting at soonyoung’s side on an old, musty couch, laughing at some stupid joke.

minghao grabbed his bass off of its stand, bringing the strap up around his neck. his fingers find the strings naturally, absentmindedly plucking out the beginning of u2’s “one”. on the body of his bass, down towards the bridge, is a strawberry shortcake sticker that you had gingerly pressed onto his instrument.

josh joins minghao, calling back to soonyoung. jihoon and vernon come through the door leading to the kitchen, each of them holding a jolt cola.

“finally,” minghao sighs, glaring at the two other men. “come on. practice started ten minutes ago.”

soonyoung stands from the couch, still talking to you. you’re looking up at him with a smile, eyes sparkling.

“kwon soonyoung!” minghao snaps. he stops playing the bass, narrowing his eyes at soonyoung. “come on! just because you have all day doesn’t mean the rest of us do. why don’t you fucking respect the rest of us and stop flirting and get the fuck over here.”

josh sucks in a breath next to minghao but doesn’t say anything. soonyoung gives you a small wave, and then he’s jogging over. he glances at minghao, murmuring a small apology.

minghao doesn’t care. he’s watching you. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, tilting your head and eyes on minghao. your sweater – that overly large, horrible sweater – is loose at the collar, and as you lean forward the hole widens and gapes and falls, giving minghao a view of the valley between your tits and the top of your black silk bra, and all that skin above it.

and he remembers. minghao remembers what it was like to press his mouth to your skin, to hold your tits in his hands and feel their weight and warmth. he remembers being between your warm thighs, remembers how soft your body was and how he always seemed to sink into it.

you stand. “well, i’ll leave you guys alone so you can practice.”

minghao watches as you leave, the hem of your sweater covering your ass. he remembers you walking from his bed wearing an overly large nirvana shirt, how the hem tapped against your ass as you walked away and to the kitchen.

and here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid.

he broke things off with you. he isn’t with you anymore, doesn’t have the privilege of getting horny and jealous of you. he doesn’t get to act on his frustrations when he sees you taunting him, when he sees you getting your petty revenge for breaking up with you. you’re stirring something up with soonyoung, and he doesn’t get to veto that, doesn’t get to act as if he has any say in your life.

after all, he’s the one that made sure he wouldn’t. he’s the one that made sure to draw the line between the two of you.

practice starts, and minghao is somewhere else entirely. he gets the order of the songs mixed up, starts playing basket case before live forever. he loses all of his picks and has to borrow from vernon, and his mind keeps slipping back to you.

an hour passes like that, with minghao not really there. he’s between your thighs, face pressed against your pussy; he’s in your arms, heels digging into his back as you urge him to go deeper. he’s everywhere but there, everywhere with you.

eventually minghao loses another pick, and josh sighs from the front. he goes over to the speaker and dials it off, frowning at everyone. “i’m thinking we should take a break. we’re not doing our best, and everyone seems really scattered right now. let’s break for supper and come back and really put work in.”

the others nod, turning off their instruments or, in jihoon’s case, setting down his drumsticks. “we need to get focused,” jihoon agrees, serious. “we’re not going to keep maintaining gigs if we’re fucking around like this. we need to be serious about what we’re doing. we need to be bringing our everything to every practice. none of this bullshit.”

josh nods, setting his guitar back in its case. his case, just like minghao’s, is decorated with stickers you’ve slapped on. besides strawberry shortcake there’s lisa frank, rugrats, pokemon. there’s squiggly lines and smiley faces and flowers, all the signs pointing to you.

“honestly,” joshua says, voice grave, “if, by some fucking miracle, the black rose calls back and says they want us to perform for them, i’ll have to turn them down.”

soonyoung protests, brow furrowed. “come on! this is just one practice we’ve fucked up. it’s not like we’re always fucking around. let’s just take a break, clear our heads, and come back at it. this isn’t something that needs to be repeated or stressed over.”

“i’m thinking about a triple decker pizza,” vernon says, prompted by no one. josh rolls his eyes, grinning, and the band begins to split into groups for food.

“where you wanna go?” soonyoung asks minghao. he’s blinking innocently at minghao, completely ignorant of the absolute sin going through his mind. he doesn’t know that minghao thought about punching him only an hour ago, doesn’t know he’s been fantasizing about the way your thighs felt under his fingertips while fumbling his fingers over the bass strings.

“i think i’ll just run home and grab something,” minghao lies, setting his guitar on its stand. soonyoung pouts, nodding.

minghao lingers behind the others, lying to josh about misplacing his keys and promising to lock the house behind him. you were doing your homework, josh said, and he didn’t want you to be disturbed.

minghao waits until soonyoung, whom always seems to be the last one to leave, pulls out of the driveway with vernon jamming out in the passenger seat beside him, and then he’s moving.

he knows the way up to your bedroom as if it was his own. he goes up the carpeted stairs, past the various pictures of you in flouncy dresses and huge bows as babies, past the awkward family photo with you and josh pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing matching sweater vests. he flips on the mickey mouse lightswitch at the top of the staircase, and then he’s opening your bedroom door.

your room is your sanctuary. the bedroom walls are painted a soft lilac from your childhood, covered in posters from spice girls to nirvana and aerosmith. there’s beanie babies hanging over your mirror, a troll doll on your dresser. your room is littered with comics and cd cases, all of your cds stacked in small piles around the stereo. you’ve got backstreet boys playing from your stereo, and minghao doesn’t even have it in him to make a comment about it.

meanwhile, you –

you are on your bed. you’re still wearing that sweater, but that’s all. your blankets are on the floor, pillow stuffed underneath your hips. your entire lower half is bare, one leg extended out and the other bent. the room has the faint, barely-there smell of cunt, and it’s more intoxicating than any drug.

you meet minghao’s eyes sheepishly, hands smoothing down your thighs. “missed you,” is all you say, fingers slowly dragging across your thighs and towards your center.

minghao is across the room in record time, pulling off his bomber jacket and throwing it to the ground. “we don’t have a lot of time,” he says, hands pulling up the hem of his shirt to zip down his pants. “the others just went to eat.”

“then you better hurry,” you say, eyes sparkling. you don’t make any comments about him stumbling back into your bed after breaking everything off. instead you spread out your legs, your hands making quick work of your sweater and bra, and minghao falls onto your bed.

“i’ve prepared,” you say as he settles between your thighs. he can’t help but run his hands over your skin, treasuring the feel of your skin beneath his. this was his favorite place on earth, he realizes; between your thighs, skin to skin.

“you’ve prepared?” he echos, raising a brow. you nod, biting down on your lip. “been waiting for me, is that it?”

“you or soonyoung,” you say, grinning at him.

minghao scowls at you, pinching your skin between his fingertips. “shut up,” he commands you. “don’t wanna hear you say his name ever again.”

you laugh at him, reaching out. you lace your fingers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours. you press a quick, close-lipped kiss to his mouth. “sorry,” you say, voice still light and giggly. “couldn’t help it.”

minghao growls, and then he’s lacing his hands in your hair and smashing his mouth back to yours. he pries open your mouth with his tongue, delving in and reclaiming that familiar space. he can’t believe he’s gone over a week without kissing you – it’s a sin, he’s sure, to not kiss you and have you whimpering underneath his touch. it’s a greater sin to not kiss you than it is to be kissing his friend’s little sister, surely.

he sucks at your bottom lip, moving his hands down your thighs. they’re sticky on the inside, no doubt from when you prepared yourself earlier. when he moves his hand deeper between your thighs it’s wetter, warmer, stickier, and he thinks that this is a heaven of it’s own. you sigh against his mouth, and then he’s ducking his head and moving his body, mouth slipping from yours and skimming down over your chin and along your throat.

you whine, and he can’t help but chuckle against your skin. he suckles at your throat. you open beneath him so wonderfully, it’s a wonder he was ever able to separate from you at all.

minghao moves down your body, kissing each and every spot he missed. the top of the valley between your tits, the skin of your shoulder. he mouths at your nipples, slipping his hand up between your legs so his fingers brush at your pussy lips.

you shiver beneath him. he laps at one of your nipples with his tongue, fingers dipping and sliding your cunt. he doesn’t apply any real pressure, just content with teasing you and hearing those whines and moans he missed.

“hao,” you groan out, fingers moving to his hair. you tangle your fingers in his locks, pulling softly. “hao –”

he shushes you, and then his fingers are slipping into your cunt. you moan out, head tipping back. he slips two into your hole, biting down at his lip as your pussy contracts around him, trying to suck his fingers in further, desperate for his touch.

your cunt is hot around his fingers. it’s not as tight as it would have been if you hadn’t prepared, and it’s easy for him to slide his two fingers down to the base, brushing his fingertips against your core.

“fuck,” he sighs, pressing his face against your stomach. he breathes in, inhaling your scent. you’re so wonderful. you smell wonderful, feel wonderful. he wants to devour you; he can’t imagine why he ever left you.

he slides his fingers from your cunt, drawing a high whine from your lips. minghao clicks his tongue at you, and then he’s pushing three fingers in. you shudder, cunt clenching so tight around his digits that he can’t move.

“easy, baby,” he mumbles, his free hand going to your leg. minghao pulls your leg over his shoulder, nose pressing against your thigh. he can feel your skin against his eyelash as his breathes you in here, too. “gotta be easy and good for me.”

you let out a long breath, eyes sliding shut. your cunt loosens around his fingers, and as a reward minghao moves down further between your legs. he presses his face to your cunt, the smell of your pussy surrounding him.

he knows he should hurry. he knows his band will be back soon. but that doesn’t stop minghao from running his tongue along your clit, doesn’t stop him from tasting this part of you. he missed it so much – missed your cunt, how it smelled and felt and tasted.

your thighs clench around his head, but he continues. minghao scissors his fingers in you, not focused on stretching you but instead making you feel good. he laps at your lit in broad strokes, and then he’s sucking at your little bean, a loud squeal escaping your lips.

“quiet!” he hisses, though he feels his lips twitching up at the corner. he does it again and again between licks of his tongue, feeling your body shake beneath his and little sounds of ecstasy escape your lips.

“hao!” you whine out, fingers digging slightly into his scalp. “gotta – gotta hurry, josh –”

you couldn’t manage a full sentence, high moans and squeals escaping your mouth and interrupting your words. but minghao understood all the same, and he was pressing one last kiss to your pussy before he withdrew.

he wiped his hand off on the sheets, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. he fisted his shirt with one hand, raising it and keep it away from your soaking cunt as he moved close.

you plant your feet on the bed, tilting your hips up for him. you’re so good, he thinks. you’re perfect. and you’re his.

minghao pressed the head of his cock against your cunt, watching as your entire body seemed to freeze in anticipation. you were so ready for him, so eager. you were biting down at your lip, eyes large and watching, and minghao couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t feeling the same way.

he crowded down over you, releasing his shirt and moving his hand to cup your face. minghao rolled his tongue into your mouth, the noises of your wet mouths meeting making his cock throb with anger.

he fucked into your cunt, a deep groan escaping you. your pussy was tight, despite preparation, but warm and wet and minghao slowly slid deeper and deeper. your body took his cock easily, as it always had, and he knew that the two of you were meant for each other.

“hao,” you moan out, lashes fluttering. you speak against his mouth, breath hot. “feels good, hao. want it. missed you so much, hao.”

“i know, baby,” he mumbles, hand sinking into your hair. he slides until his cock is buried as far as it can go within you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. he wanted to move, wanted to immediately begin fucking you. instead he held back, hand twisting in your hair. “i missed you too.”

you bite at your lip, and then you’re tightening your legs around his waist. minghao takes this as permission, and he begins drawing his hips back. the slide of his dick against your walls feels so good, feels perfect, all slick warmth that makes his toes curl and eyes flutter.

he can’t believe he left you. he can’t believe he ended this. he’s so fucking stupid –

minghao fucks back into your cunt, and it feels like coming home. he begins setting a slow, deep rhythm that makes you arch up around him, mouth wide and eyes pinched shut. he just looks at you, takes in the shape of your mouth and your lashes, just looks and adores you.

his hand moves from your hair to your ear, and he traces the shell of your ear as he grinds into you. he follows the curve, adoring. he thumbs at your earlobe, just touching you, when he touches that pearl earring.

and minghao thinks back. he thinks back to how you had tucked your hair behind your ear for soonyoung, how you had acted all cute and coy for him. how you had taunted minghao.

his hips slow to a stop, and you whine for him. for a moment he just focuses on your earrings, staring.

“you’re such a bad girl,” he growls out, and then he’s slamming back into your pussy, the sound of skin hitting skin loud. you cry out, startled, and then he’s setting a punishing, brutal pace.

“you’re so bad,” he hisses, hand moving down to your throat. he doesn’t choke you, just places his hand against your throat. “teasing me like that with soonyoung. so fucking bad. wanted me to get jealous, didn’t you?”

you whimper, eyes rolling back as he fucks you. each thrust into your cunt is wet and loud, and he fucks you knowing that you’ll feel the ache hours later.

“wanted me jealous of kwon soonyoung,” minghao murmurs, and he’s ducking his head to bite at your neck. you cry out, cunt tightening around his dick. he bites and licks and sucks, marking your neck as his.

because you are his. he was a fool to think otherwise. you’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll show kwon soonyoung.

minghao pulls out – you whine – and he flips you around. minghao moves to his knees, pulling you up and back so you’re on all fours. he enters you with a rough thrust, and then he’s resuming his hard pace, chasing out each sting of skin slapping skin, seeking that pain-pleasure.

“you’re mine,” he says, hands tight around your hips. he watches your ass jiggle with each thrust, some animalistic urge to take coming over him. “you’re mine, angel. fucking mine and no one else’s. got it?”

you nod against your pillows, arching your back and pushing back to him. you fuck back onto him, meeting each thrust, and minghao can’t help but feel satisfied.

as if you’d ever do this for kwon soonyoung. as if you’d ever let him fuck you like this, as if you’d ever give yourself over to kwon soonyoung as eagerly as you do minghao.

“you gotta cum,” minghao commands, slapping at your ass. you cry out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “gotta cum around my cock, baby. milk me.”

he reaches down, grabbing his shirt and pushing it up out of the way. his fingers slip into your cunt, fluttering around where the two of you are connected to grind down on the gummy area surrounding your clit. you whine, and only a couple of thrusts later you’re tightening around his dick.

“that’s it,” minghao says, biting down on his lip. “gush around my dick, angel. come on, cum for me.”

your moans rise in pitch as you cum, and he fucks you through it. he fucks into your pussy as it quivers, fluttering around his dick. once you’re finished, whining from oversensitivity, minghao pulls out of your pussy – your warm, tight, delightful pussy – and fucks into his hand until he’s shooting out warm stripes of cum, painting your back white. he feels fuckin amazing, adrenaline and lust and something he can’t quite name rushing through his veins.

he pants, watching as his cum taints your skin. you’re so beautiful like this, stained with him. he says as much, rubbing his hand over your ass and back.

a car honks from the street. minghao curses, and then he’s flinging himself off of the bed. he grabs his bomber jacket, hesitates, and then quickly wipes himself down.

“i’ll wash it,” you promise, and he ducks down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your mouth.

“good girl,” he murmurs, moving to press a kiss to your temple. “such a good girl for me.”

he darts for the bathroom after leaving your bedroom, flicking on the goofy lightswitch. he looks in the mirror. he looks – well, he looks like he just spent the last half hour fucking someone.

but not just anyone, he thinks, grabbing his shirt and flapping it to try and get some fresh air against his skin. he spent the last half hour fucking you.

vernon looks at him weirdly as he hands minghao a few slices of pizza. “been busy?”

minghao shrugs, pressing his hair back from his face. “went jogging a bit to try and clear my mind of all it’s shit. need to bring everything to practice.”

vernon looks like he doesn’t believe minghao, but vernon, also, doesn’t care. so minghao watches as his friend grabs a soda from the fridge. “cool,” is all he says, and then vernon begins slurping at his drink.

soonyoung enters the room with his own pizza, setting it on the counter. “i made sure to get some you like,” he says to minghao.

minghao feels, slightly, like he should feel guilty towards soonyoung. soonyoung, after all, has a crush on you. and minghao just fucked soonyoung’s crush.

then again, minghao thinks, it’s soonyoung’s fault for getting a crush on you when you spend every other day getting your brains fucked out by minghao.

joshua enters his house with a large grin, holding a plastic cup in one hand. “you’ll never fucking guess who called.”

“president clinton,” soonyoung says, raising a slice of pepperoni pizza to his mouth. “wait. better yet. monica lewinsky.”

“no,” josh says, “cut it out. i’m talking about the fucking black rose club! they called! and they want us for next thursday!”

“well,” minghao says, a grin taking over his face. “it isn’t a friday or saturday performance, so the club won’t be too busy.”

“but it gets our name out there,” josh agreed, clapping vernon on the back. he looks so sincerely happy, lip ring glinting in the artificial light of the kitchen. “we’re getting on the map.”

minghao raises vernon’s soda in salute towards josh before drinking it and handing it back to vernon. “things are looking up,” minghao says.

minghao isn’t stupid. he knows they’ll need to work their asses off for the next week in preparation of playing at the club. he knows this is only one step on the mountain of success, only one step towards their goal line. he knows he’ll need to talk to you, sincerely. he knows he’ll need to apologize, knows he needs to explain everything.

yes; minghao isn’t stupid.

but, he thinks, watching as you come down the stairs, fresh from a shower, he is awfully lucky.

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tangerinesgf · 6 months ago

Note

Loved your first Tom Ryder fic!!!

For a request I was thinking maybe something where he's supposed shooting a movie and everybody's looking for him trying to find him and he's off somewhere on set having sex with his girlfriend. They get caught and you can decide how it goes from there :) (if you're interested in writing it of course 🥰)

Tom Ryder x FEM!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, P in V sex, slight dirty talk, fluff, getting caught

A/N: Thank you so much for your request I absolutely loved it!! I hope you love it too! In my mind Tom Ryder is a total sub, so I tried to play with that a little bit, but I have more idea in that regard.

It was no unusual occurrence to find Tom Ryder missing from set. In fact it had become quite predictable and most of all frustrating for the people who were working with him. He is the movie star after all, the main character, without him there is no movie.

Usually he would be found either daydrinking or in his trailer with the excuse of not being in the right mood to film the scenes that day. He had to be in the right headspace to portray his character. You see Tom Ryder was the world famous actor, in his eyes everyone had to accomodate to him and not the other way around.

Yet this time it was neither one of those things.

So while everyone was worrying about the disappearing daylight on set, that was the last thing on Tom’s mind while pushing you up against one of the huge fake rocks on set. It was one of the few days where you could actually be with him on set and he’d be damned if he was gonna let that go to waste.

The moment he spotted you behind the camera, watching him do a scene he excused himself from set, earning him eye rolls from all the other cast and crew members.

The two of you disappeard and haven't returned since.

“Fuck baby, it’s been so long..” He mutters in between kissing you from your lips to your neck, his hands roaming all over your body. He needs you badly.

Tom hadn’t even bothered to put on something else, so here he was in his full on space cowboy attire including the hat, pressed against you. It almost felt like you were sneaking around like a bunch of horny teenagers in high school.

“It’s only been a week, Tom.” You chuckle softly, your voice already a bit breathless from his touch.

“Mhm.. too long.” He trails kissing down from your neck to your cleavage. His hand move down and start playing with your skirt, making his intentions quite clear to you. “I need you, baby.. please..”

How could you ever deny him when he looks up at you with those sad puppy eyes, begging you to let him fuck you into next week. You nod slowly and pull him in for a deep kiss.

He kisses you like a starving man, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue. Meanwhile Tom’s hands hastily try to undo his belt, at this point he doesn’t care if he rips his entire costume. They probably have another 10 lined up for him anyway. All he can think about is being inside you right now, the sweet sounds you make when he fucks you, your hands in his hair, you lips on his..

Fuck, fuck.

“Shit..” The actor mutters as he keeps struggling with his belt until he finally manages to unbuckle it. He quickly shoves his pants down his legs along with his underwear revealing his hard cock, the tip already red and leaking pre-cum. You practically groan at the sight of him, yes it had only been a week but you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again.

He lifts your skirt up and pulls your panties down, a grin appears on his face as he notices you’re already dripping for him. He licks his finger and teasingly runs it along your wet and sensitive folds. “God baby.. you’re so wet.”

You whine softly, aching for any kind of friction between your legs. Your eyes are locked on his as he licks your juices off his finger, if you weren’t so good at composing yourself you’d be drooling over him right now.

“Ready?” You nod in return. He smiles at your consent and slowly pushes his throbbing cock inside you, dragging a long moan from your throat. He lets out a string of curses as he pushes himself in all the way in, everytime with you felt just like the first and he never got tired of it.

Once he’s all the way inside he let’s you adjust to his size for a moment, kissing you from your neck down to your collarbone. “Doing so well f’me, baby..” He mutters.

When you give him the sign he slowly pulls out before slamming his cock right back into you, hitting you in just the right spot. Your hands move up to his dirty blonde hair, fisting your hand in it. “Fuck- Tom just like that..”

You get completely lost in the pleasure between the two of you. His hips rutting into you while he sucks marks onto your neck, dragging moan after moan from you.

“Missed you.. and your pretty little cunt.” He groans loudly as you clench around him. You’re so caught up in each other that you don’t even notice Gail coming around the corner until it’s too late.

“Tom! We’ve been looking everywhere for ya!” She doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest about the position she’s found you both in, because let’s be honest she’s caught him do worse things.

“Jesus fuck-” Both of you startle and Tom curses as he quickly uses his long coat to cover you both up. He stares at her with a look of annoyance and disbelieve, although he should have known that his producer is not one for playing around. “What the fuck Gail?”

“We’re losing dayligt, Ryder. Chop chop.” Gail ushers and crosses her arms as she stares you both down.

“Fine.. fucking hell.. could you just- just turn around.” Gail rolls her eyes, but eventually turns around to give you both whatever privacy you got left.

“You gotta talk boundaries with her, Tom. I swear to god.” You tell him in an ushered voice, so Gail can’t hear anything. He sighs and reluctantly pulls out of you, making you let out a soft whine. “I know, baby.. I’m sorry. Shoulda taken proper care of you, hm? I’m gonna make it up to you I promise, love.”

He neatly fixes your panties and skirt back in place before pulling his own pants back up. Both of you are left disappointed and wanting, but Tom had a job to do. Unfortunately.

“Meet me at the loft tonight?” He’s giving you those puppy eyes again. God you love him.

You nod and receive a very happy Tom Ryder in return. He kisses your forehead softly before walking towards Gail with that usual annoyed look on his face.

“I told you not to interrupt me when i’m ‘busy’.” You can hear Tom whisper to Gail.

“And I told you I wouldn't, but you were still wearing your damn mircophone, you idiot.” She tells him return and Tom just shrugs, seemingly not bothered by the fact that the entire cast and crew just hear him fuck his girlfriend. But then again you’ve never seen him embarrassed or ashamed of anything and you’ve seen things. You don’t hear anything else before they disappear out of view.

Guess you’d have to finish this later tonight.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any Tom Ryder requests pleasse don't hesitate to leave me a message, Reblogs and comments are so much appreciated you have no idea. Love you guys <3

Taglist: @earth-elemental18 (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron johnson #aaron johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tom ryder #the fall guy #tom ryder x reader #atj #fanfiction #the fall guy fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson smut #tom ryder smut

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months ago

Text

Tom Ryder x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Tom books a role in a musical with the only one goal in mind. He wants to work with an actress he's been crushing on forever—you.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: arrogant/asshole Tom (duh), swearing

~ thank you for requesting this, anon 🫶💖 ~

TOM RYDER MASTERLIST

Tom Ryder doesn't like singing. He doesn't even like musicals! He's an action star, goddamnit! This meant that when his agent came up to him one day and said he'd gotten him an audition for a new musical, Tom laughed at him.

"A musical, Danny, and it's a romance?! What the flying fuck do I even pay you for?" he complains as he lies on the couch of his trailer, his arms flexed behind his head.

"It's good for publicity and it shows you have some range, Ryder!" Danny explains as calmly as he can, already annoyed with Tom's childish behavior.

Tom waves his hand as if to shoo him away.

"I have range. I don't need to prove anything to anyone," he says condescendingly. Danny pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He walks over to Tom and drops a magazine into his lap.

"Y/n Y/l/n already took the part. She's the lead. They're casting her love interest," he says with a knowing smirk as Tom scrambles into a sitting position. He quickly reads the headlines as his eyes roam around your picture.

Tom's crush on you isn't a secret to anyone who works with/for him. He's madly in love with you to the point it's embarrassing because you've spoken maybe twice at an award show and nothing more.

"When's the audition?" he asks Danny immediately.

* * *

Tom is grateful for his naturally decent voice and the year of vocal training he'd taken a few years ago because that means while he doesn't usually sing, he doesn't completely suck.

He's never, in all his years of acting, tried so hard for a role so when Danny tells him he got the part, he makes a very unattractive squeal as he celebrates.

He's over the moon until his first day when he realizes he has to actually work with you now. Color drains from his face and he pushes up his cool-dude pink-tinted sunglasses to hide how anxious he must look.

He sees you sitting in your chair, scrolling your phone. Shit, you're as gorgeous in person as he remembers, he thinks and he internally panics as he feels like he's floating.

"Sup," he says nonchalantly, taking a seat in his chair next to yours.

Sup? What the fuck.

You look up, smiling at him, "Oh, hi," you turn to him and outstretch your hand, "I'm Y/n."

Tom blinks as he stares at your hand.

Do you really think he doesn't know who you are?! Or do you just introduce yourself to everyone you meet?

With a confused expression, he clears his throat and shakes your hand.

"Ryder," he says, "Tom Ryder."

You smile at him. "Okay, James Bond," you joke.

Tom flushes pink, "I was just introducing myself—y'know—being humble and all. I don't know why it's needed though," he sniffs arrogantly, "You obviously know who I am, and I obviously know who you are," he says, his douchiness involuntarily slipping out.

You narrow your eyes at him. "Obviously," you echo, your tone curt as you turn to look down at your phone again.

Tom panics. No girl has ever just ignored him like this. He leans closer, clearing his throat. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?" he asks, pretending your lack of interest in him isn't bruising his enormous ego.

You huff, sending him a look. "No, your lack of self-awareness just rendered me speechless for a moment, Tom Ryder," you say sarcastically and then grin. "But, you'want some friendly advice? Co-star to co-star? Pull your head out of your fucking ass and realize not everyone here worships the ground you walk on because you can learn a few lines."

Tom's entire face burns crimson as his mouth opens in shock. You stand and clap your hands on your thigh as if you'd forgotten something and then you turn to look at him once more. "Oh, and introduce yourself to people around here. It's common courtesy. Toodles," you wave teasingly and spin on your heels to the makeup department.

Tom's never felt more like an idiot in his entire life. Somehow, he managed to make a fool of himself and also make you hate him all in one simple interaction.

Fuck this. He rubs a hand over his jaw and composes himself. At least work will go well—as it usually does.

* * *

He's so so wrong.

Turns out, working on a musical and a romance is much harder than action star Tom Ryder ever imagined. By the end of the day, he's completely embarrassed by not only his table reading but how croaky his voice sounded when in the studio, and he's so so close to calling Danny and begging him to bail him out of this.

He stares at himself in the mirror of his dressing room and he prepares to bang his head on the wall when he hears a knock on his door.

"What?" he mutters, slumping down on his couch as he pops an ibuprofen in his mouth to calm his headache.

When the door opens, you're standing there, holding up two bubble-milk drinks. "I come in peace," you whisper and Tom sits up instantly.

"Y/n," he whispers, blushing.

"Tom Rdyer," you smile and hand him one of the drinks. "Rough day, huh?"

Tom coughs. "Wasn't that bad," he shrugs and sips on the drink, looking up at you behind his silly sunglasses. "Thanks for this," he says, a little confused because he'd definitely gotten the impression you hated him.

You nod and sit next to him, "You'll do fine" you reassure him, looking around his dressing room and then back at him, "you're just not used to this type of movie…yet. But I think it's admirable to change your scene so drastically so if you ever need me, I'm here for you. After all, what are co-stars for?" you smile kindly.

Tom feels his heart leap in his chest as his pupils dilate.

"Thanks," he mumbles again, unsure how to deal with a situation like this. Usually, he'd make a snide comment or even a crude joke to calm his nerves, but he doesn't want to do that with you so he just sits in silence.

He's truly not used to this awkward silence with women. He doesn't have to think very hard to know that by now he'd usually have his tongue shoved down their throats, his hand under their shirts as he whispers meaningless praises in their ears.

But, you're different. Tom doesn't want that with you—not so soon anyway—and he hates this new feeling he has whenever you're around. It makes him feel weak and mushy.

"I saw your last movie," you say, making conversation. "I was really diggin' the gold cowboy outfit," you laugh and if Tom pretends really hard he hears some flirtation in your voice.

His lips curl up into a smirk which eventually morphs into a smile.

"Ah-ha," you grin and playfully poke the soft dimples that appear on his cheeks. "I was wondering when you'd drop that douchey smirk and smile at me."

Tom looks stunned by how easily you read him.

"What douchey smirk? I don't have a douchey smirk," he defends and scrunches his nose in disgust, staring at you like you've gone insane but you just bend your knee on the couch and turn to him.

"You definitely do," you laugh and pull out your phone as you type something.

"What're you doing?" Tom moves closer, suddenly anxious.

You pull your hand away as he leans in and when you muffle a laugh and turn your phone screen to him, you giggle and his face falls.

"Douchey smirk," you say and point at the screen; which displays a random picture of him from Google during some red-carpet event he doesn't even remember.

"Google is absolute shit," Tom exclaims and he debates retaliating with a picture of you, but he knows he wouldn't find one where he would find you ugly.

You're always gorgeous.

"Now you're just being mean, sweetheart," he says and the pet names slip past his lips unconsciously. Luckily, you don't mention it or seem put off. Tom's shoulders relax.

"What? You don't like it?" you turn your phone again and swipe the screen, looking at more pictures. "It's not like you could ever look bad."

Tom bites the inside of his cheek. Again, if this was any other girl, he would take that as an invitation to flirt heavily. With you? He's a blushy mess that doesn't seem to have any smooth moves anymore.

You put your phone away and smile. "No snarky comment, Mister Big-Shot?"

He chuckles and his real smile returns. "Not tonight."

You sit up and look into his eyes. You don't seem by any means nervous when you say, "You're an intriguing character, Tom Ryder. I do like that. How about you take me out to dinner tonight—if you can clear your clearly very busy schedule." You gesture to whatever he had been doing in his dressing room (which had only been some self-loathing).

Tom's never been asked out by a woman. He's usually the one asking them out and he'd assumed he'd hate not being the one to take charge but this feels so natural. "Like a date?"

You laugh and stand up, sipping on your bubble milk. "Like dinner. I'll see if I'll give you an upgrade by the end of the night," you say with a wink and Tom melts right then and there.

He accepts instantly, also liking the challenge, and he takes you to dinner. He takes you to your favorite restaurant, ignoring that he very much dislikes Thai food, and he plays the perfect gentleman—or rather, he doesn't even have to play a gentleman because you seem to bring it out of him naturally.

It's almost midnight as he walks you back to your car, his arm almost touching yours as you both walk side-by-side, stuck in a light-hearted debate about book adaptations turned into movies.

Occasionally, he'll check to make sure his security team is walking behind you but his hand with twitch to steady around your waist in case he also needs to keep you safe from some crazy fans or unsuspected paparazzi.

"You don't seem like the type to read much," you say, feeling content as your heels click against the pavement. You feel safe around him and you smile at the feeling of his fingers sometimes skimming your waist.

"I read," he frowns and then pauses, "I read a lot of scripts."

You laugh, liking his blunt honesty.

Tom's chest swells at the sound of your laugh. He'd managed to bring it out of you on more than one occasion tonight and he wears each time like a badge of honor—even if he's 95% sure you're laughing at him.

When you arrive at your car, you turn to him and Tom opens his mouth to ask the question that has been on his mind all night, "So, was this a date?" but instead, your arms wrap around him and you kiss his lips. It's quick, almost fleeting and he wonders if he'd imagined the entire thing.

"I don't usually kiss anyone on the first date," you say, slightly more nervous now, "so don't make me regret it, Tom Ryder," you whisper and his hand almost clutches at your waist to pull you in for another kiss but instead he holds the door for you to climb into your car.

He sends you a nervous smile and then watches as your car disappear around the corner. "I promise I won't," he whispers into the air knowing he means every word.

He's never taken his time with anyone, but he'll stop time entirely just to spend every second he can with you.

#tom ryder x reader #tom ryder x fem!reader #tom ryder fluff #tom ryder x y/n #tom ryder x you #tom ryder fanfiction #tom ryder smut #tom ryder #tom ryder fic #tom ryder the fall guy #the fall guy aaron taylor johnson #the fall guy #tom ryder imagines #tom ryder imagine #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #tom 🎬

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white-wolf-buckaroo · 5 months ago

Text

This is PERFECTION❤️

In response to that last ask, this wasn't even requested, but it inspired me anyway! Consider this a glimpse of future Parker/Tom! ❤️🥰

Early morning sunshine beams through the room in the pinkish, orange hue stereotypical of the Pacific coast. It looks a bit like a movie scene; the luxurious down comforter covering her bare legs, the movie posters hung across the wall, interspersed with an array of post-it notes and Polaroid pictures that had been tacked up at random. Last night's clothes are strew over the window seat, her shoes having been kicked off towards the corner, and the book she has been reading is now discarded on the ground.

Tom had gotten home late from set, collapsing on the bed with a sigh as she listened to him talk about the day's scenes. Things were going better for him after the rocky patch of finding a new manager, and with Colt's new stunt company getting off the ground, their latest movie had been a rollercoaster of hard work that often bled into late nights. It was worth it, though, with how often Tom came home with a genuine smile—and so Parker was more than happy to rub his back as he talked—even if it kept her up into the early morning hours.

Parker has never been more comfortable as she dozes. The matress—eternally out of her price range—is the comfiest thing she's ever slept on, and the air is a perpetually chilled to the perfect temperature. The pillow smells a bit like lilac, but also a bit like sandalwood and oak, and as she takes a deep breath in, the bed comes alive behind her.

A warm hand snakes around her waist to tug her back against an even warmer chest. Boiling hot—from the very first moment she had ever touched him—it's no mystery why he sleeps in nothing but a small pair of boxer briefs.

Calvin Klein, of course.

"No," she says.

It never ceases to amaze her how little sleep he needs.

"It's morning," he says back, his breath tickling hair off of her neck. It's an obvious sort of statement though, and Parker sometimes feels like he's a dog waiting to be let out first thing in the morning. Though, the actual dog in the relationship respectfully stares from his bed in the corner of the room. "I gotta get up."

"No," she says again, eyes clenched tighter now. "It's Saturday."

The hand snakes under her shirt, skin against skin, and a small smile skirts across her face. "Come on, babe. You know I don't need beauty sleep. Plus, look how nice it is out."

She sighs. Tom has never been one to let things go, and she knows well enough that an early morning wake up does nothing to deter his persistence.

She turns in bed, his hand skating to the small of her back, and blinks up at him. He's gorgeous. Breathtakingly, stunningly, drop dead gorgeous without a lick of makeup or touch up to him, and she knows for a fact that she has drool on her face. She would detest him if she didn't love him as much as she did.

"Why do you always want to get out of bed?" she whines in a sleep rough voice. His mouth works into a small smile, and the hand brushes some hair out of her face. "You paid a lot for this bed, and it's nice and soft and comfy. Why would you ever want to get out of it?"

"Where was this attitude last night when I wanted to—?"

"Tom," she whines, even more pathetically now. It's too early for any of this. Yet, a fierce blush works its way across her face. Two years and she still wasn't used to being the person he would want to hold, let alone do that with. Wiggling closer, Parker bats her lashes at him as best she can. "Why don't we stay in bed longer and cuddle? We never cuddle."

"We cuddle every night."

"Yeah, but only because you think if you get a hand in my shirt I'll let you put it elsewhere," she says, and he doesn't even deny it. Just gives a husky, warm laugh before kissing her softly. "Come on, maybe you don't need beauty sleep, but I do."

His eyes roam his face. A hand skates her jawline. "No, you don't," he says. Then, with a sly smile. "Maybe just some concealer."

"Tom!" she laughs, swatting at him. It's no effort at all for him to duck his head down to her neck where he plants a handful of kisses. "Leave me and this beautiful bed alone."

"Maybe I want you to come with me."

"Maybe I want to cuddle with my handsome, superstar boyfriend since he'a always working anymore," she bats back, pouting as she does so. "Please?"

There's silence as he considers her proposal, gaze flickering to the large windows and the beautiful Californian morning outside it. She can hear the gears turning in his head.

"Give me an hour, and I'll workout with you after."

At that, his eyes narrow. "You'll watch me workout after, you mean."

Parker hedges, sleep still dragging her eyes. "I thought you liked to show off," she says instead of admitting that she would not, in fact, be doing any physical exercise. Not with him, anyway. She didn't fancy death by embarassment this early in life. "But if you really want I'll join you in yoga."

He lifted a brow. "Yeah?"

"After my coffee."

Tom watched her, eyes roving, hand rubbing circles into her spine. She used to shy away from moments like these—him this close, looking like that, while she had morning breath and bed head—but despite everything he had proven not to care about that sort of thing. Instead, when Tom looked at her, Parker could just tell that he was actually seeing her, rather than the imperfections.

His hand pulled her onto his chest in a single move. "Yeah, alright," he grumbled into her ear. "One hour."

And though he sounded so put off by it, when Parker looked at Tom, she saw him too. She saw the soft crinkles around his eyes and the warmth in their depth, just like she felt the smooth beat of his heart under her hand. A constant reminder that he was real, and he was very much hers.

Parker kissed him softly before intertwining her bare legs with his. The idea of their matching boxers made her smile, and when she settled into the crook of his neck, he was smiling too.

They lazed in bed, wrapped up in one another, watching the sunrise through sleep heavy eyes for one hour and thirty-seven minutes.

And when they finally did get up, Parker didn't mind at all making him his vegan protein shake, and though he acted like he was in a rush, Tom stood with his arms wrapped around her the entire time.

#falling without a harness #the fall guy 2024 #the fall guy #tom ryder #colt seavers #jody moreno #ryan gosling #aaron taylor johnson #emily blunt #dan tucker #winston duke #jean claude #i love this fandom #this is so weird #this is so wholesome #best fic ever

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lost-pen-name · 4 months ago

Text

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

Summary: Tom invited you to be his plus-one at a party with him. His friends are there along with a handful of your coworkers. Parties aren’t really your ideal pastimes (small talk, loud crowds, yuck) but you went anyway because maybe this one will be different. It wasn’t. Your introvert side kicks into gear after you lose track of Tom and make several terrible attempts at small talk. You escape the throngs of people and hide in the best place you could find: the grungy bathroom.

Word count: 2320

Warnings: mild spice, kissing

Author note: This was one of THE most fun fics I’ve ever written. 🙈 I was lowkey giddy the entire time. 😍 I hope you enjoy it just as much! ❤️

{ kiss me when nobody’s watching }

You startled at the sound of someone rapping their knuckles on the door.

“Hey, you in here?” Tom’s voice is muffled but you can tell it’s him.

“Go away, I’m not here,” you said as you took a step closer to the door. You pressed your forehead against it, the cool wood soothing the start of a headache. “Please leave, Tom.” You’re really starting to feel like Elsa from Frozen but there is zero chances he’s about to ask you to build a snowman with him.

“What, you scared of socializing?” You can just see the big dumb grin on his face. It’s that grin that makes you simultaneously want to slap the daylights out of him and kiss him until he saw stars.

Right now, it was definitely the first.

“No. I just want to go home.” You thumped your head on the door. It didn’t help the headache but it did help release some of the pent up frustration. “Whatever, just leave it. Go back to your party. Have fun without me, I know that’s very possible.”

It’s quiet for a few heartbeats. You held your breath and waited. Maybe he actually left? That’d be a miracle, he doesn’t typically listen to your requests. At least, not the first time you ask.

“No, I don’t want to.” Is he pouting?

“Ugh, Tom, please stop being so stubborn for one moment and go back.” No response. “I’ll be fine up here, I swear.” Maybe he’s worried about you? Highly unlikely but still.

“Can you just open the door so we can talk like normal humans? I can barely even hear you,” he whined.

You groaned. You hit your head on the door a few more times for good measure before reaching for the doorknob and opening the door an inch. The hallway was dark. With the faint glow coming from downstairs, you can make out Tom leaning against the wall by the door. He’s looking at his hands, using his thumbnail to clean out his other nails. He immediately straightened at the sound of the door being pushed open. You aren’t ready for the direct eye contact he made as he stood in front of you. His stormy eyes made your heart do acrobatics. You clenched your hands. He always seemed to have this effect on you just by standing close.

“Want to tell me why you’re hiding all the way up here?” He gestured around at the small bathroom.

You frowned. “Can’t a girl have a bathroom break?”

“Well, yeah,” he said as he pushed his way further into the room. Your eyes widened and you took a step back. “But you didn’t sound like you were going to come back down. Why?” Another step forward. Now he’s past the doorway, you and him almost standing body-to-body, leaning over you slightly.

You have got to look away from those heavy-lidded eyes. They’re making your thoughts lose motivation to stay afloat and drowning in those crashing waves was getting harder to fight. Your gaze moved down. Now you were counting the three buttons his shirt had undone and noticing how the fine hair on his chest was damp with sweat. Maybe looking here wasn’t much better but anything’s better than trying to think under that crushing gaze. “I don’t see how this matters.”

“Yes, it does. I invited you.” He pointed at himself. “And I want to know.”

“I just don’t like parties!” You threw your hands in the air. “There, satisfied?”

His gaze darkened. “Then why did you come?”

“Because, idiot, you invited me! And I wanted to come with you! I wanted to be with you. But now I’m chickening out and hiding up here and away from awkward small talk.” You let out a breath and looked back up at Tom. “Satisfied?”

He clenched his jaw and relaxed it. A tick he did when he was thinking. “You could’ve said you didn’t want us to go.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “As if that would’ve made a difference. I don’t have that kind of effect on you.”

He leaned down further, practically forcing you to look at him. Your throat tightened at the close proximity. You’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear your heart thundering against your rib cage.

“What are you talking about?” His gaze is searching as he looked into your eyes. “You’ve always had an effect on me.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’ve used that on every girl.” You sighed and turned to walk a few steps away from him.

You’re surprised when you heard the door shut and his footsteps as he followed you further into the bathroom. “You doubt me too much.”

The tiny bit of whine in his tone made you prickle. You whirled around to find Tom standing right behind you. You pressed a finger to his chest. “And you throw your words around too much. I know you flirt with almost every girl your eyes land on and I know I’m not any different than any one of them. So excuse me for not completely believing all of your smooth, honey-coated words.”

He reached up and grabbed at the hand you were using to point accusingly at him with. His warm hand enclosed your wrist and he pushed you backwards and pressed you up against the wall. He framed you in by putting his free hand on the wall next to your head.

“I don’t know why I have to tell you this but you aren’t like other girls, okay?” His voice was low, like you were the only two people left in the world and still he wanted to keep this moment a secret.

“Then what am I, Tom?” you breathed. The frustration was melting away and a gaping hole of yearning was replacing it. And you don’t know what to do with it. And that was terrifying.

“You’ve always been different, you aren’t like everyone else. You’re special,” he said. He brought his face down to the side of your face, his warm inhales and exhales now tickling your ear. “You’re mine.”

Your heart leapt up your throat as you felt his lips brush against your ear. A flutter, a mirage, a hint of a kiss. But then a small twinge. You couldn’t hold back the gasp as you felt a flash of teeth and a quick pull of your earlobe as he moved back. Heat rushed through your face and you prayed he wouldn’t be able to see how red you are in the dim lighting.

“Don’t do that.”

Tom licked his lips. It took everything within you not to press your mouth against his as you watched his tongue run over his plush lips. “Do what, darling?”

“Make me want to make out with you.” You jutted your lip out a bit in a pout. “I’m supposed to be mad at you, not madly want to kiss you.”

He grinned devilishly. “Oh yeah?” He reached out and fingered a lock of hair that had fallen loose from your ponytail bun. “Guess my Ryder charm is pulling through for me today.”

“Oh shut up.” You grabbed his head between your hands and pulled him down to your height and crushed your lips against his wet parted ones.

His eyes widened for a split second before he bent down further, deepening the kiss. He took no time in shaking off the surprise and taking control. He gently moved closer to you, pressing you firmly against the wall. His hands made their way into your hair and slowly undid the bun, his slender fingers tangling themselves in the strands. His mouth was warm, the heat of it sent tingles down to your toes. He wasn’t a desperate kisser, he kissed like there was nowhere to go, like he could always buy more time if we ever ran out. His touch was burning and excruciating but in all the right ways and you wanted more.

Your hands moved from his face and grabbed onto the open front of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him. You let your tongue push past his lips and did a quick run over his teeth. He tasted faintly of booze and citrus and jealousy. You can feel his mouth shift into a grin and he returned the favor but more forcibly, like he hasn’t eaten in days, ravenous, hungry.

You both break away for a breath. You opened your eyes and watched him as he panted. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wild and sweat glistened on his collarbones. It’s a beautiful sight. You honestly can’t quite believe it’s you who was the cause of it.

Words are hard to draw upon, your head is more full with ecstasy than of coherent sentences. “What about the party?” you murmured.

“Screw the party.” He kissed and broke away again. “Screw the whole freaking party.” Another stolen kiss. “If it’s you versus the party, you win every time, baby.”

You bit back a grin. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

He let out a laugh, a genuine laugh. The world paused at the sound of it. It’s a deep, rough laugh, like it isn’t quite used to coming out into the world but it’s so beautiful and lucent that the clumsiness of it is all forgotten.

You can’t help but stare up at him in awe. You could probably count how many times you’ve heard that laugh. It’s almost like it’s the eighth Wonder of the World and you wanted to savor the rarity of it.

Mild amusement flickered across his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re just so beautiful, that’s all.” You tilted your chin up and flashed a sly smile. “And you’re all mine.”

His hand grabbed your chin, angling it so your lips were just brushing each other, a butterfly’s flutter of a kiss. Goosebumps swept over your body. “All yours,” he said, his voice thick and rumbly. He closed the distance, his mouth desperate to be against yours again.

A knock at the door startled both of you. You untangled yourselves from each other.

“Um, hello, is this occupied? Kinda need to go.”

Tom growled under his breath. “Aren't there any other bathrooms in this place?”

“Maybe they’ll go look for a different one?” You hold your breath. Your tongue has the lingering taste of oranges and alcohol and it’d love to get a reminder how vibrant those flavors can be.

Another knock. “Hello? Can you hurry up in there?”

Tom turned his head towards the door. “The door’s closed for a reason, man, buzz off!”

“No, no, wait, it’s okay, we can let them use it.” You gently patted his chest, trying to regain his attention before he yelled more. “It’s okay.”

He looked back at you and his anger evaporated. He tilted his head down and looked remorseful. “I’m sorry we have to cut this short.”

“Me too.” You stood on tiptoes and placed a quick peck on his bristly cheek. “But we can always pick up where we left off, ‘kay?”

He grinned, his sharp canines glinting in the dim light. “Of course, darling.”

Your heart did a little leap at that. You shoved down the urge to just ignore the rest of humanity and stay here with Tom and quickly patted yourself down. Your hair was almost completely undone and your shirt was rumbled. You let your hair out of the ponytail and straightened your clothes.

“There,” you said as you did a check in the mirror. “Presentable.” You turned to look Tom over. He was mostly fine except for the red smears that covered his face. You groaned. “Oh no, you look like you’ve been mauled by cheap lipstick. Here, let me wipe it off—“

“It’s fine,” Tom interrupted. “I don’t care.”

You stopped in the middle of grabbing paper towel. “You sure?”

His mouth curled into a crooked smile. “I had one of the best nights of my life. I should let everybody see the souvenir.”

Your cheeks warmed and you gave Tom a joking shove. “That’s so dumb.”

“I enjoyed myself immensely.”

“Stop saying things that make me want to kiss you.”

“No, you.”

An impatient series of knocks made you both jump. “You know I can hear you talking in there. Hurry up. I really gotta go.”

Tom rolled his eyes before winking at you. He grabbed the doorknob. “Ready?”

You reached for his arm and linked yours around his and nodded.

With bravado, he flung open the door and pushed past the figures waiting in the hallway. As Tom bumped shoulders with the taller of the two, you heard him mutter, “Prick.

You almost had to run to keep up with Tom as he guided you down the hall. “Tom!” you hissed. You threw a quick glance behind you and had to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. “That was Randy and Lauren! I’ve been practically begging Lauren to make a move for weeks! And you just called him a prick!” You slapped his forearm gently. “Thanks, now they’ll have questions for me.”

You stopped at the top of the stairs, the light from below cascading its way up. “Please,” Tom said as he bent down to plant a kiss on your head, “don’t worry about it too much, darling. If they have half as good of a time as we did, I doubt they’ll remember. And he is a prick, he ruined a good thing for me.” In the faded light, you see his lower lip slipped into a pout.

You laughed and cupped his face with your hand. Seeing him get upset over this, while it’s somewhat childish, sends happy tingles down your spine. It’s somehow endearing.

“Oh Tom, I’m always willing to go for round two.”

#tom ryder fanfic #tom ryder #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #tom ryder x y/n #aaron taylor johnson fic #tom ryder x fem!reader #the fall guy #the fall guy tom ryder #the fall guy fanfiction #aaron johnson #aaron taylor johnson #fanfic writing #the fall guy 2024 #tom ryder fic #y/n fanfic #fem!reader #fanfic oneshot #kiss scene #movie fanfic

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happy74827 · 5 months ago

Text

And… Action?

[Colt Seavers x Actress!Reader]

Synopsis: In which a minor… stunt caused the meeting of the stuntman himself who always seemed too busy, too focused, and too far away {GIF Creds: fleursial}

WC: 1121

Category: Mega Fluff, Suggestive Ending?

Why is there still so little of Colt?? I don’t understand it 😭

『••✎••』

It wasn’t unusual for you to find yourself staring at Colt Seavers from across the set. You liked him, liked the mysterious presence he displayed. Sure, half of it was because you never had the courage to approach him, despite how friendly he was with the rest of the cast and crew, but he always seemed so busy. Plus, your character never needed to interact with the stunt crew so you didn’t have a reason to walk across the lot. And even if you had, your scenes wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes anyway.

However, when the very last scene of the day was called, everything changed for the better. You were moments away from leaving the set, having already said goodbye to almost everyone else, with the feeling you weren't going to see Seaver ever again.

Until he bumped into you, quite literally.

You let out a surprised gasp, almost dropping your script as you stumbled backward, but a pair of strong hands were quick to steady you by your arms.

"I am so sorry, miss… woah," he said as he looked down at you, taking in your face for the first time, his hands still resting on your upper arms. You felt yourself go red, suddenly unable to look him in the eye and instead opting for looking anywhere but.

"No, no, it was my fault; I should have watched where I was going," you said.

He shook his head and released his hold on you. "You’re… man, you are really beautiful," he said.

"What?" you asked, surprised.

"I mean—uh, you were really beautiful… out there! On set, you know," he corrected himself, and you swore you saw a faint blush form across his cheeks.

You bit your lip and finally found the courage to meet his gaze. "I appreciate the compliment."

"Yeah, no problem. How come I’ve never seen you around here before?" he asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head in curiosity.

That right there… it took everything in you not to melt right then and there. You could see the indentations of his biceps from under his tight-fitted jacket, the arm cross just amplifying them. It didn't help that you also just barely came up to his chest, which, while intimidating, also made him all the more attractive.

You swallowed thickly and averted your eyes. "Well, I never needed a stunt double, so…" you trailed off.

"Yeah, that’s fair. Totally get it, yeah." He clicked his tongue and nodded, looking away momentarily. Before you could turn to see what he was looking at, he squinted, looking back down at you. His hand peeled away from his arm to hover in front of you.

"Colt," he said, extending his hand. "Name's Colt Seavers… I’m kind of a big deal around here. You know, doing car crashing, rope climbing, cliff-diving stuff," he explained with a smirk.

You let out a small, quiet giggle as you reached for his hand, giving it a shake as you stated your own name. His hand was big, rough, and calloused, no doubt from years of hard work and training, but it was warm. A strong grip, but ever so gentle.

"I, uh, do the acting stuff." You repeated his words, and his smirk broke into a smile, one that nearly took your breath away.

It was then, looking at his smile, that you realized the opportunity before you.

You had to say something, had to tell him, and you weren't about to let this opportunity pass.

"I think you're pretty beautiful, too," you said, and that caught his attention, his eyebrows raising.

"You do?"

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod. "Out there… on set, I mean."

He let out a short laugh, his hands moving back to his pockets. He was sort of swaying, almost as if he wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. It was adorable.

Alright, you needed to do something. The fear of letting another moment like this go to waste was far too much. So many guys had slipped through your fingers because of your hesitance—a real shame, too, considering how most of them weren’t even remotely attractive.

But Colt, though…

"Listen, um… maybe I'm jumping the gun here, but would you like to—"

"Yes," his answer was nothing short of immediate. “Absolutely, yes… yeah hundred percent, yeah- yes… yes."

It took him a second, took him a long second, to realize you hadn’t even finished your question. His eyes went wide as fear evidently started to creep in.

"Shit, uh- sorry. Yeah, uh… yeah, I'm listening. You can keep going." He motioned with his hand for you to continue, and you had to suppress a smile.

Well, this is definitely promising.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime? Have dinner or something?" you suggested.

"Dinner, yeah- dinner is good. Dinner is… great. I love dinner. Dinner is, uh… dinner is great," he stammered, and you couldn't help but give him a small laugh, one that was cut off when his eyes went wide yet again.

"Sorry, I'm just… yeah, sorry, I'm just- I'm gonna… hey, can I get your number?" His question was followed by him digging into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone, which was cracked beyond belief. “Not so I can bother you or anything, not that I would- I mean unless you wanted me to bother you, I guess, which- no, sorry. Just, like, text you, I guess, yeah.”

Your eyes went wide at the state of his phone. "How does that even work?"

"I'm a pro. Just a quick swipe to the left and a few presses, and it works fine, see?" He tapped the screen a few times before opening his contacts, and he handed the phone to you. "Here."

"You know what? I'll just put it in my phone if that's okay," you said.

"Oh, yeah, yeah- absolutely," he said, nodding. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable, yeah."

You quickly punched in his numbers and sent a text, a small, simple message. One that escalated to where you were now, weeks after that dinner, his hands roaming your body as he pressed you against the door of your new and current trailer.

You should’ve known you weren’t going to run lines that day.

A stuntman running lines?

Yeah, right. He runs through scenes instead, and… this was definitely a scene.

God, how ready you were for that first take to start.

[@kcisahoe + @adeesthetic] Since you guys asked so nicely, here’s another Colt fic!! There needs to be way more out there because he’s just so… 🤭🤭

For all you Tom lovers out there, don’t worry!! I didn’t forget about you. He’s in the works so I’m praying my work/study schedule aligns with me finishing it 😅

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nyxvuxoa-writes · 4 months ago

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𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘺𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦

Tom Ryder x Fem!Reader

◢ Genre: Headcanons — Suitable For Adults Only

◢ Warnings: 18+ Only please! Mentions of sex, smut, and relationship with F!reader. Also includes mentions of jealousy, narcissism, and famous relationships.

◢ A/N: I am back, doing some warm-up writing. I still have everything in my drafts, and currently have some free time to try and get caught up. Keep an eye out for new content. Gif was made by me, please credit me if you use it. Likes are enjoyed. Reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Dating a celebrity is never easy. Especially Tom, who right now is one of the most famous action stars in the world.

It'd be a lie to say that it hasn't gone to his head.

The man is narcissistic and not at the same time.

He's got an ego for days.

But he's not the type to gaslight you, at least not all the time.

He's capable of emotions, and yet he won't hesitate to try and cover up a murder with the help of his agent.

He's a man of morally gray standing. He's neither good nor evil, but will put himself first and foremost when his career is on the line.

When you and Tom started dating, it was unexpected.

No one expected it to happen. But he knew what he wanted and he went for it.

There was even a sticky note in his house about asking you out.

That note he didn't forget.

You aren't a celebrity like he is, so this forced you into the spotlight.

The tabloids ran with it, either making you look good or bad. It didn't matter to them.

What mattered was that Tom was dating someone new, and someone who wasn't a co-star.

It's strange being in the spotlight. Maybe a part of you hates it. Maybe a part of you likes it.

But you aren't dating Tom for his money or his fame, not like some people claim to.

You are probably the most down-to-earth person he's dated.

You don't ask him for things, or money. Which caused him to spoil you slightly.

He clings to you, keeping you close when he goes out.

He likes to show you off, even if people are criticizing him for who he's with.

His agent isn't a fan of you and tells him that he should be with someone else who is famous because it will help him.

There has been a time or two that she had almost convinced him to do it.

But when someone was said, it never turned out like he expected.

The arguments are heavy, mostly because that is when his ego comes to blows with you.

When you approach him to fix it, not wanting to fight, he tends to cave to the feelings you show him.

He starts to feel like you understand him past the fame and who he is as a person.

You've come to learn how to deal with his weird quirks, like the sticky notes.

More often than not, you are reminding him about things and trying to keep them cleaned up.

But some of the notes he leaves are utterly ridiculous and you tend to leave those up because they make you laugh.

Then you started to find notes about his feelings for you. Things he wanted to remember to say for later.

When he realized you saw them, all he could do was give you this boyishly charming smile.

Maybe the notes are a good thing.

It becomes a small form of communication between you two.

You have learned to deal with the parties, the drinking, and the drugs.

It may or may not be your scene. But somehow he manages to bring you out of your shell.

You have a good time with him. Letting loose. You always go home together.

The sex is amazing. Hot and heavy, a lot of heavy petting, moaning, and groaning.

He's vocal. Often telling you how he loves your body and how you feel wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck babe. You feel so good."

"You're going to make me cum babe if you keep doing that."

The man has his moments of being vanilla.

But when he gets kinky, he can get weird about it in a good way.

He's always willing to try something new.

But when you get submissive and worship him, he goes crazy.

The guy has a praise kink for days.

When you lean into his ear and start telling him about how you adore him, adore his cock, how good he feels, then he starts to go crazy mentally.

"Say it again babe. Louder."

"I'm gonna make you scream my name."

It makes it hard for him to keep his hands off you.

When he's gone, he thrives off the images and videos you send him.

Phone sex can be a regular when he can't get to you.

But there are times when he would take you wherever he's going.

The man won't hesitate to take you back to his trailer to have his way with you.

You'll make him late to set a time or two, but he doesn't care. He can get away with it for the most part.

He doesn't like other guys touching what is his. Ever.

He's going to make it known to his "friends" that you are off-limits.

He doesn't want them hitting on you.

This will bring out that small bit of insecurity that lingers in his mind.

He'll get jealous if he thinks the wrong thing, or see something that can be taken out of context.

If you two were to break up, Tom wouldn't handle it well.

You'd make him emotional, and the idea of seeing you with another man would frustrate him.

He'd try and get you back because of how you treated him and understood him.

This time, he'd be calling you while laying in the bathtub almost crying.

He might try and date someone else after, but chances are they aren't going to compare to you.

ATJ Taglist: @voxmortuus @earth-elemental18

Some of my tag list people aren't working anymore. If you want to be added for ATJ stuff let me know, and I can update my list.

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fireflyinks · 6 months ago

Text

karaoke and cowboy hats

colt seavers x costume designer/manager!reader

there will be multiple parts, this is part one !!

a/n : so so so much fun to write, and probably one of my longest and favorite fics i’ve ever written. i love colt and ryan gosling, and tried to add as many easter eggs from “the fall guy” as possible

summary : colt always seems to be misplacing his costumes pieces, which has him constantly coming back to the costume manager and designer, y/n. the two decide to hang out for once outside of set.

contains: this is just purely fluff and good vibes, no smut, cursing, “will they, won’t they”, part two will have more romance dw

word count : 3.7k

Working with Tom Ryder was one of the most difficult tasks one could be assigned. He was arrogant, narcissistic, and overall just a complete asshole. I had the misfortune of being the costume designer and manager for the up and coming film “Metalstorm”, and Jody, the director, insisted on the most cliché cowboy get ups imaginable, plus a gold metallic touch. Having worked with Ryder many times previously, I knew he would hate this. I had prepared myself for one of his meltdowns long before it actually happened, but it still somehow caught me off guard.

“What the fuck is this?” He stormed into the costume tent, causing me to jump up from my seat in panic.

“Ryder... Jody insisted you wear this.”

Ryder looked down at his attire in utter disgust. “Don’t try to blame anybody but yourself. This is your fault. Are you trying to embarrass me? Do you have some personal vendetta? I’ve never even worked with you before!”

It stung that he didn’t even recognize me from our previous jobs together, but I tried to ignore it. Looking at Ryder’s get-up, he didn’t even look half bad. The gold metallic suit went great with his complexion, and the cowboy hat added a charming touch. But he wasn’t having any of it.

“You have to wear it. It’s not an option. This is your costume.” I tried to act brave, as if his harsh voice didn’t effect me one bit.

“You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m going to be caught dead wearing this. Say goodbye to your job, nobody speaks to me like that. I’m Tom god-damned Ryder.”

The tent’s entrance opened, revealing a very angry Colt.

Colt and I were sort of close, as close as most coworkers get. I didn’t think we’d never hang out outside of set, but I considered him sort of an ally. When he wasn’t performing a dangerous stunt, he’d talk to me about whatever was on his mind and listen to me ramble on and on.

“Just leave her alone, Ryder. She’s not here for you to bitch at.”

It would be hard to deny the fact that I had a small crush on Colt. He was everything I could want; charming, tall, handsome. But in those moments, as he defended me, I could feel it turning to a major crush.

Anger pulsed through him as he walked over to Ryder. I’d actually never seen him so pissed off before. Colt, the easy going, overly sweet, fall guy, was bowing up on Tom Ryder.

I could tell Ryder wanted to say something back, but instead he bit his tongue as he strutted past Colt, making sure to bump shoulders with him on the way out.

Colt shook his head, making eye contact with me. He had a sorry expression on his face, genuine pity for me.

“Ignore him. Ryder’s a jackass.”

I giggled, “That’s an understatement.”

He chuckled, “Anyways, do you have any extra hats? I somehow managed to lose mine, and I already have some stunts I need to do.”

Colt nervously twiddled his thumbs, embarrassed of his clumsiness. It was our third day on set, and he’d already misplaced his hat.

I nodded, smiling. Colt was always losing his props and costume pieces in previous projects we’d worked together in, so I’d remembered to bring extras. Turning around to reach into the bucket of hats, I pulled one out and handed it to him.

“Thanks. And again, just don’t let Ryder get to you. I know you’ve worked with him before, but don’t take anything he says personally, okay? If he gives you any problems, just let me know, alright?”

It wasn’t surprising that Colt remembered me from past projects, but it still felt nice in contrast to Ryder’s forgetfulness.

I nodded, smiling. “Thanks Colt, I really appreciate that.”

My cheeks burned a light crimson shade, and I tilted my head down, hoping he didn’t notice.

As he walked out of the tent, I added “Let me know if you need another hat or anything. I brought extras just for you.”

Colt looked back at me, smirking. “I will definitely need another one, thanks sweetheart.”

The simple nickname made my head spin. Yep, this is definitely a major crush.

—

By day five of filming, Ryder had become okay with his costume. Well, maybe not okay, but definitely impartial. Perhaps because his ego had realized how ridiculously good the suit made him look, or maybe Colt had spoken to him alone about the matter.

Part of me hoped it was the latter.

My job as costume designer and manager was really simple; fix and replace shit all the time. Especially Colt’s shit. When day six rolled around, he had lost three hats, his metallic jacket, and somehow a singular shoe. I’m not kidding, he had stumbled into the costume tent, peg footed, hobbling on the shoe he’d managed to keep. I didn’t mind though. In fact, Colt was one of the few people that actually visited me in the tent, instead of walking in, grabbing their belongings, and quickly walking out, not saying a word or acknowledging my existence. Colt’s visits slowly became one of the only things I looked forward to during filming.

On day twelve, when Colt came in to the tent without a cowboy hat once again, I mustered up the courage to ask him the one thing I never thought I’d be able to ask.

“Do you want to hang out sometime. You know, just me and you? Outside of set.”

The sides of his mouth quirked up. “I’d love that actually. But I do have one request.”

I furrowed my brows, listening intently. “If me and you go out, you have to wear a cowboy hat.”

My mouth dropped open in protest, but he argued on. “You’ve seen me in these stupid things so many times, too many times to count. I’m completely and utterly embarrassed. Maybe I want to see you sporting your southern spirit for once.”

“I’m from Wisconsin!” I giggled, shaking my head rapidly. “I am not wearing one of these things in public.”

Colt rolled his eyes, “Fine, but you have to wear one around set for the rest of filming. Deal?”

I sighed, remembering that I barely ever exit my tent other than at lunch time and when leaving set for the day. “Deal.”

“Karaoke, seven, tonight. I’ll text you the address.”

Colt turned to leave, and I grabbed his shoulder, pausing him.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, yeah.” Colt chuckled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. We exchanged numbers, and he laughed at the excessive amount of repetitive digits in mine.

“And I’m expecting our deal to begin right now.” He said, glancing at the bucket of hats behind me. I sighed, picking one out and placing it upon my head.

“Happy?” I asked, holding out spirit fingers beside me.

Colt beamed, “Perfect.”

He turned and left the tent, and I pulled out my phone and began to update Colt’s contact name, only to sigh and pocket my phone again. Apple somehow doesn’t have a cowboy hat emoji.

—

When my Uber lazily pulled up to the karaoke bar, anxiety pooled in my stomach all at once. I shouldn’t have been this nervous, and I knew I was making this out to be something that it wasn’t. A date.

But what exactly was I supposed to think of this as? Hangouts happen at people’s houses, dates happen at bars. Plus it didn’t help that it was Colt and I alone. I look down at the sun dress that I donned, running my hands down the skirt. This wasn’t too formal, right?

I stepped out of the black car, thanking the half asleep driver, and walked toward the bar. I opened the door and automatically spotted Colt sitting by himself, drinking a small, lean glass of something colorful. The bar wasn’t exactly packed, but it wasn’t empty either. Numerous people danced around as a man in a orange and green polka dot button up did a bad rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”.

Making my way towards him, the anxiety filled my stomach even higher.

“Hey.” I said nervously, sitting down beside him.

Colt looked at me, examining my attire. “You look great.”

I blushed, shrugging. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

I wasn’t too keen on getting drunk because we still had to go to set in the morning and the last thing I wanted Colt Seavers to see was me throwing up in a bush, but a drink or two couldn’t hurt.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure,” I grabbed the bartender’s attention, “Can I please get a margarita?” She nodded, scrambling to assemble the cocktail.

“So I’m guessing you don’t drink much?” Colt asked, his lips in a sly smirk.

“What makes you say that?”

I chuckled, drinking the last of what I assume what his first drink and ordering another. I then learned the bright liquid was a sunset on ice.

“Well you ordered the most basic drink known to mankind. I mean, at least make it spicy.”

I guess that was true, but I didn’t like experimenting with my orders much. I didn’t enjoy drinking much in general due to the effects it would have on me later.

“I like what I like.” I shrugged, thanking the bartender as she handed me the margarita.

We sat in silence for a moment, until Colt turned to me. “So, what are we singing?”

I coughed into my drink. I hadn’t even thought of what I was going to sing yet.

“Funny of you to assume were doing a duet.” I said slyly, playing off the fact that I was trying to pull a song out of my ass.

Colt raised his eye brows. “Okay, then go and serenade me.”

I nodded at him, walking over to the DJ and requesting “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood. Once Polka Dots was done singing his heart out, the adrenaline had kicked in and I felt as if I ruled the world. Or maybe I just wanted to rule Colt’s world.

The small crowd clapped along as I sang, and I say Colt’s smile through the audience every time I tried to execute one of the runs in the song.

Afterwards, I walked over to him, slightly embarrassed but also proud. “How’d I do?”

His face was covered in amusement. “It was... entertaining.”

I giggled, punching his arm lightly. “You’re the one who told me to ‘sport my southern spirit’!”

He sighed, shaking his head sarcastically. “The cowboy had would’ve made it complete. You missed the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I think I’ll live. Now it’s your turn!”

I motioned towards the DJ booth, and he stood up turning back for a split second to wink at me.

I was expecting something silly. Maybe Total Eclipse of the Heart, or Sweet Caroline. I was terribly wrong.

By the time the first notes blared out of the speakers, I knew I was doomed.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you.

It’s like he’d searched my brain, found my favorite love song of all time, and decided he was going to make me fall in love with him by singing it.

His voice wasn’t perfect. There were parts that were off key and shaky, but the bigger picture was beautiful. I never thought I could fall in love with someone in a karaoke bar.

Once he was done, my shoulders dropped and the tension left my body. It had been so unexpected, the tune had snuck up on me and now I felt head over heels to the man who had sung it. I wasn’t the only one who loved it, the crowd was going crazy.

“How’d I do?” Colt asked me, sipping the drink that had been waiting for him. This had to have been his third drink, and I could tell he was tipsy from the way he spoke.

“It was great.” I wanted to scream ‘It was amazing! It was perfect! Please marry me!’ But thankfully I did not.

“‘Glad you liked it.”

We sat in silence for a moment before I got the guts to ask.

“Why that song?”

Colt hummed, as if asking me to repeat my question.

“Why’d you pick that song?”

He grinned to himself before shrugging. “I just like the song, I guess. It’s one of my favorites.”

It could’ve been my habit of overthinking and examining everything to the smallest detail, or it could’ve been the psychology course that I took in college and obsessively studied over for months, but Colt’s excessive blinking in those moments told me there was a good chance he was lying to me.

Why would he lie over a song?

“It’s one of my favorites too.” I smiled. I’d find out why he lied to me later.

Colt grinned to himself in satisfaction.

We sat there for another hour, and Colt drank two more tequila sunrises, which meant I was now his designated driver.

At about nine, I decided it was time to leave.

“Colt, I’m gonna give you a ride home, okay?”

Colt nodded dizzily.

“Did you drive here?”

“Yeah, here.” He clumsily handed me his keys, almost missing my hand. I stiffened a laugh. “Diane! Close out my tab, please.” The waitress handed him his card quickly.

We stood up, beginning to leave, when Colt turned back to the bartender. “Thank you, Diane, those drinks were great.”

I waved goodbye to Diane as well, reading the “Amy” on her name tag with a smile.

I got him into the car slowly, and began driving him home.

“Hey, y/n?”

I hummed, waiting to hear what he was about to say. Chances are it would be something ridiculous, and I was all here for it.

“You’re really pretty. Have you ever been told that?”

I blushed, and prayed the dark car shadowed me enough for him not to see.

“A time or two. Thank you, Colt.”

He leaned the passenger seat back, and I thought for a moment that he would go to sleep.

“Where are you staying?”

He turned his head to me, and shrugged. “Can we just go to yours?”

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. Colt Seavers, in my small temporary apartment that I was providing to stay in during the time we’d be filming. It wasn’t a mess since I’d only been staying in there for about two weeks, but it definitely wasn’t guest ready.

“Sure, why not?” I fumbled with my phone, pulling up my GPS app and getting directions to the apartment.

“Can I tell you something, y/n?”

I nodded slowly, ignoring the way my stomach felt when he said my name.

“I actually didn’t lose all of those hats.”

What?

I furrowed my eyebrows, whipping my head to look at him. “Then why’d you keep getting new ones from me?”

He hiccuped, smirking. “I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

If my face was a crimson shade before, it was a tomato now. I felt bad, like I was using Colt’s drunken state to get answers out of him.

“Did you like my song?” He looked over at me, waiting for my answer intensely.

My lips quirked up into a soft smile. “I did. ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ is actually one of my favorite songs.”

This made him giddy. He giggled like a school girl, and then stiffened a laugh myself.

“I know.” Colt said under his breath.

So he did know.

“How’d you know?” I pressed Colt for answers. I knew that if he found out he’d told me any of this while drunk, he’d be mortified, but I just couldn’t help my curiosity.

“I heard you listening to it one day on set. I was outside of your tent, about to come in to tell you that I’d lost another hat, but I stopped and listened for a while. You were singing along, and you sounded so good. That’s why I wanted to sing a duet with you.”

At this point, I’m the color of a fire truck.

We pulled up to the apartment, and I unbuckled, getting out. I walked over to Colt’s door and opened it for him.

“Very chivalrous, thank you my lady.”

I giggled, helping his wobbly frame out of the car. “You’re welcome kind gentleman.”

We walked into the apartment building, making our way up a flight of stairs. Well, I made my way up them, Colt tripped over himself with each new stair until he made it to the top. At one point, he almost fell all the way down them, and dragged me down by my arm with him, but he managed to catch himself.

I brought him to my room, closing the door behind him. It was small, the kitchen and lounging room directly next to one another, separated by no wall. There was a door that led to the bedroom with a bathroom connected.

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a plastic cup form the cupboard and filled it with water. I handed it to Colt, who turned his nose up at it like I were trying to feed him poison.

“You have to drink water or you’ll regret it in the morning, Colt. You still have to go in for filming, remember?”

He sighed, taking the cup from me and drinking it all at once. “I’m starving.”

I thought for a moment about what he could possibly find to eat in the apartment. Nothing. I’d pretty much been eating take out since I arrived to Sydney.

“I’ll order a pizza.”

I pulled my wallet out of my purse on the kitchen counter. Colt shook his head, reaching in his pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay.”

“You got the drinks, Colt, it’s fine.” I insisted, grabbing my card.

Colt handed me his entire wallet, “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I made you pay for it.” his drowsy eyes said otherwise, “Please, just let me.”

I sighed, taking his wallet from him, “Thank you.” I said under my breath.

Colt only winked at me, lazily walking to the couch and plopping himself on it.

I ordered the pizza, assuming he liked pepperoni because who doesn’t like pepperoni?

I sat down beside him on the couch once I was finished. He was flipping through the different options on Netflix, his face was focused intently to find something.

Colt Seavers was on my couch. Well not necessarily my couch since the apartment was only being rented for me, but you get the point. We were on the couch together, tryin to find a movie to watch with pizza on the way. This realization made my cheeks feel hot once again.

“Here we go.” Colt chuckled as he clicked on the block buster film “Bad Cop, Good Dog” starring the one and only Tom Ryder.

“Get him off the screen, I might puke.” I giggled, attempting to grab the remote from him. Colt held it as far away as his much longer arms could manage, and I gave up.

“This is such a horrible film.” Colt told me, his eyes laser focused on the screen still.

“Then why are we watching it?”

Colt thought for a moment. “The way he talked to you the other day isn’t anything new. I’ve seen him talk to pretty much every one on every set we worked on together just like that. I just couldn’t always save them like I did you. It’s easy to think he’s some big, powerful guy, but in reality, he’s a pussy.”

I stayed silent for a moment. It felt nice, knowing that he still cared so deeply about the way Ryder had treated me.

“That’s nice and all, but it still doesn’t explain why exactly were watching this.”

Colt shrugged, “Oh, I just like making fun of him. We can watch something else if you want to.”

I snatched the remote from him, “Please.”

After a few more minutes of searching, I decided on the 1998 classic “The Parent Trap”.

“This movie never made any sense to me.” Colt crossed his arms as the movie started.

“Why?”

“Well, first off, what judge arranged this custody system? I mean seriously, how did both parents just up and leave with one kid?” He slurred so horribly that I had to fight a laugh as he spoke.

“It’s just a movie.” There are a few movies that I would defend with my life, this is definitely one of them.

“You can’t just use that as an excuse. Just because it’s a movie doesn’t mean it’s allowed to just defy all logic.”

“Colt,” I turned to face him, “You are working on a sci-if space cowboy movie with aliens. I think that makes the parent trap sound pretty reasonable.”

Colt chuckled, “Touché.”

My heart fluttered as I looked at Colt, lazily snuggled into my couch.

There was a knock at the door and I hopped up, walking through the kitchen and dodging Colt’s wallet, grabbing mine instead.

I paid for the pizza and brought it in, met with the sight of an extremely hungry Colt waiting impatiently at the counter.

“You didn’t use my wallet.”

I sighed, putting mine back in my purse. “I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own things.”

Colt shook his head. “You’re absolutely kicking my ass at the chivalry game.”

Grabbing a slice of pizza, I went back to the living room. Colt followed quickly behind me, and we got about one-fourth through the movie before I could tell Colt was getting extremely tired.

I got up, and went to my room, grabbing a blanket and a pillow.

“Here.” I handed them to him. Colt smiled up at me gratefully.

“Thanks.” He made himself comfortable, before leaning back and closing his eyes. The couch wasn’t very small, which was surprising since the apartment was so compact. This is why I didn’t feel bad about having him sleep on the couch. He didn’t complain either.

“Goodnight.” He mumbled, drifting off.

I smirked at him, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water to place beside the couch. I also grabbed the bathroom’s trash can. He was going to have a terrible hangover.

“Goodnight Colt.”

I had gotten a date with Colt Seavers for the small price of humiliating myself in a southern style for the rest of filming. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.

Or maybe it wasn’t date and I was delusional, but Colt ended up sleeping on my couch, which is pretty sweet if you ask me.

#the fall guy #ryan gosling #colt seavers #new movies #fluff #fanfiction #the fall guy fanfiction #colt seavers fanfiction #ryan gosling fanfiction #no smut #fanfic #writing

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 6 months ago

Text

Coffees, Plural

Colt Seavers (The Fall Guy 2024) x Reader

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters in this story except for Sheila and the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: Reader uses she/her pronouns and is AFAB; reader has an immigrant mother, however where her mother is from is unspecified. The plot of the movie hath been screwed with, basically just imagine the movie with no *SPOILERRR* murdering by our dear leading man, that Jody and Colt are just friends and Colt never had his accident. While I don’t like erasing big plots it was hard to work around it with the timeframe of both the movie and the fic, hopefully the writing makes up for it 🙃 Jody and reader are friends from college, Colt and reader meet on the set of Metalstorm. If you like the story, a comment would be super appreciated! Part two and three are out! Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s the best!

Content/Content Warning: Nothing crazy, this is just the meet cute!

𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼

If you had asked me what I thought I’d be doing with my life ten years ago, me-from-ten-years-ago would have told you something along the lines of “I don’t know,” “teacher,” or perhaps “nomad.”

That would’ve been her (me-from-ten-years-ago’s) third year of college, where she was newly 21, burnt out, sick of the education program, and just about ready to drop out.

Then she discovered makeup. Fun, out of the box makeup. Her immigrant mother, who really did mean well, had given her a graphic liner palette for Christmas- “Oh honey, I thought this was the makeup you wanted!” And sure, it wasn’t what she had wanted… at first… but then, the week before exams in a fit of stress, she tried it out. Five hours later she discovered a talent she never knew she had, and had created a look that had astounded both her and her roommate, Jody Moreno.

She’d always been good at the basics- rarely did a day pass without getting a compliment on her eyeliner wing or her ombré eyeshadow, but this graphic liner? This was where it was at. It challenged her and made her smile, and she finally found what she wanted to do in her life. Makeup-more specifically the out of the box makeup- had been what spoke to her after years of not knowing what it was that she truly loved.

She- I- dropped out the day before my exam. A couple years later, after some practice and online beauty school, I had a steady gig going with weddings, senior pictures and other fancy clientele. My mom wasn’t super hyped about the idea of a makeup artist daughter at first, but once she saw the bank I was making within half a year of working her mind was changed.

Now listen. I wasn’t actively looking to be this restless soul who wouldn’t stop until she found “the perfect gig.”

But quite frankly, the makeup that pays the best is usually the most boring in composition. I could do these plain, “natural” looks in my sleep. But the thing was, nothing was giving me the same rush as when I ventured out of “normalcy” with that graphic liner years ago. Sure, in my free time I’d practice the cool graphic stuff, even venturing into more VFX style stuff, like wicked scars and things, but my free time was few and far between.

About a year ago, that same Jody Moreno, my old roommate reached out. As far as careers go she definitely had a straighter path than me. For as long as she could remember she wanted to be a director, she’d tell me. We both went to community college, but for her it was for her undergraduate so she would have a fall back if her film degree didn’t end up taking her anywhere.

Film ended up working out for her, and though we lost touch after community college, from what I’d seen on her Instagram she was doing pretty freaking well for herself, and I was happy for her.

Her producer finally gave her a shot at directing her own film last year, a movie called “Metalstorm.” Some sort of space opera with a cowboy of all things, starring world-famous actor Tom Ryder.

Now, I’m not personally too big on Tom Ryder movies- he comes off as a douche and his acting is… a choice, to say the least.

However, when your old roommate reaches out with a job proposition to be a part of a Tom Ryder movie, you don’t say no.

I couldn’t have said yes faster to Jody’s offer. I remember gawking at the screen when I read her message-

“Hey, y/n!

I know it’s been a long while, and I’m sorry for that!

To make up for it, I was wondering if you’d like to work as makeup artist on this movie I’m directing? It’s sort of a space opera with a cowboy- I know, it sounds random- and the producer’s letting me do some of my own hires if I’d like.

Anyway, if you’re interested, I’ll provide you with more details. We’ll be shooting in Australia, and I’ll get you your own trailer on set. Just let me know!

X Jody Moreno”

I could barely register how adorable it was that she still signed off with an X after all these years because of how shocked I was.

First was the fact that she had gotten her own movie- it wasn’t so much shocking as incredible, and super exciting.

Second was the fact that she was offering me a job, and that she remembered me when she got big in the industry. I had told her before I dropped out to remember me when she was famous, as a joke, but I guess she took it seriously which was extremely endearing.

I replied with an enthusiastic “yes!” and the next thing I knew I was in Australia.

I’ve gotten to do all sorts of weird makeup things since I’ve been here, including funky scars and alien makeup. It’s the dream, and it’s a blast!

I have even been trusted to do Tom Ryder’s looks, which thankfully don’t take too much effort or time because as I suspected, he is in fact a massive douche with an ego the size of Mars. I was able to get him passed over to Sheila, our executive makeup artist who takes no nonsense, and who cuts him off by busting into song- usually an eighties hit- any time he tries to speak. She has a great voice, so both the lack of his asshole words and the presence of her beautiful voice are very much welcomed.

Sheila liked the work I was doing for the Space Cowboy scars though, so she gave me Douchebag’s main stuntman to work on.

Enter Colt Seavers. Six feet of pure muscle and a well filled out frame, blue eyes with an energy that can only be described as “puppy-like,” brown hair that’s dyed blonde on the tips to match Douchebag, and a rogue-ish beard. He’s undeniably attractive, and he’s got a sarcastic sense of humor to match.

Basically, he’s what Tom Ryder is played out to be, but better.

When I had first met him, it took me a hot minute to pick my jaw up off the floor. It was a Monday morning, three months into my time on the filming site. I’d over slept that morning, and made it to the makeup trailer ten minutes late, worried that my new client would be wondering where I was. In my defense, 6 in the morning is too early to be doing anything.

I had breathed out a huge sigh of relief when I found out that he was apparently also running late, and grabbed a grape soda from the mini fridge in the trailer. We had every flavor- from cherry to pickle- but I was most fond of grape.

Sheila, who was my main friend in the makeup crew as well as being my most direct boss, didn’t have to come in for another hour because Tom Ryder was always (at least!!) an hour and a half late to every appointment. I didn’t really know the other artists at the time, so I just sat in my chair waiting for my client as the others worked on the early clients. They were working on the extras who played humans in the upcoming scene, making sure everyone had a unique futuristic look.

Ten minutes later I decided I was sick of waiting and pulled out my graphic liner, the same pallet from ten years ago. It was a little worse for wear, about half the colors missing and the others not far off. But it reminded me of my roots and why I was where I was, and I couldn’t bear to part with it- even if I was in dire need of pink. Kidding. I love the thing, so, so much.

I ended up doing something elaborate with purple, green and blue arches. It sort of looked like the northern lights, if the northern lights were a dramatic eyeliner wing.

I was nearly done with the touch ups, too locked in on the look to notice on the figure that appeared behind me somewhere between the second swipe of purple and the subtle yellow accent.

“Hi! You must be y/n, sorry I’m late-” came a soft, low voice that had a slight gravel to it. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly focusing on the exact tone of his voice when I jumped with a slight squeak and dragged yellow down the side of my face. Real nice.

“Oof, sorry!” he said. He was holding two cups of coffee, and he looked very unsure of what to do.

If wiping yellow eyeliner down the side of my face hadn’t been embarrassing enough, I just had to look up. I caught his blue-eyed gaze in the mirror, took in all six feet of him and was basically, to put it as elegantly as possible, completely taken aback by his hotness.

I promise I’m not a superficial person, by the way. Colt Seavers is just really this pretty. I’ve never been one to notice the “intensity of the blue hue of [one’s] eyes,” or any romance novel cliche like that, but Colt Seavers was a very different story.

Remember how I mentioned that my jaw had been on the floor when I met him? When I stopped mentally drooling over him in his dirty white Space Cowboy costume with all its latches and gold accents I realized that my mouth was actually open. Oops. Really great first impression.

“I’m so sorry. Let’s try this again. I’m y/n, and you’re-“

“Colt Seavers- stuntman, and guy who scares makeup artists when he’s a half hour late. Sorry I startled you,” he apologized genuinely.

“It’s all good,” I said, standing up. His chest is eye level, and I don’t really know how to feel about that. “I’ll tell you what- how about you take a seat and just give me a minute to wash this off,” I suggest.

“Yeah of course, please, take your time!”

“No worries, it’ll be just a minute. You can set your coffees, plural, on the counter in front of the chair,” I told him.

“My coffees, plural, and I are grateful for your kindness,” he teased. I shook my head and smiled, and then walked into the bathroom of the trailer to fix my face. About a minute it was off- thankfully my old pallet wasn’t the most top notch makeup. I returned back to my little booth of sorts, where Colt sat comfortably, his leg bouncing up and down.

“Are your coffees, plural, comfortable?” I asked by way of greeting.

“Why yes they are, thank you,” he chuckled.

“I’m going to get started on the scarring in your face, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

“So… the coffees?” I tried to make conversation as I pulled a couple of pallets out from the drawer in the booth.

“They’re my life force,” he says dramatically.

“Oh yeah?” I first grab an alcohol wipe, and gently wipe his face.

“Yep- and also the reason I was late. Sorry again, by the way.”

“No worries- I was late too. Only ten minutes though,” I start applying primer with a fluffy brush.

“We can’t all be a half hour late,” he conceded as if it were an accomplishment. I liked his humor right off the bat.

“That is true…” I agree as I finish applying the powder. “Alright, we’re going to let that sit a minute. Care to tell me how your coffees- plural- made you late?”

His ears turn red. Man, he’s cute.

“Er- I have an affinity- not an addiction!- for coffee, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“An affinity?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to emulate The Rock in my stare.

“Yes, an affinity,” there was that little laugh again. It’s sort of a giggle, and definitely unexpected from this guy who looks like a walking action hero. I liked it. “Anyway, I drank a cup-or two-before getting into this costume, thinking that if I had to, er, piss, I could get out of it easily. It took a half hour to get into all of these damn buckles, and by the end of that half hour, guess who had to piss?”

“The costume designer?” I joked. That got a laugh out of him, again.

“Yes, the costume designer, obviously. But yeah, apparently a side effect of my coffee addic-affinity is perpetual lateness.”

“Huh, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I noted as I reached for one of my pallets. “I’m going to start on the scarring on your face, there’s one that goes on your left cheek and another where your hair’s parted.”

“Okay, sounds good.” It’s quiet for a little bit, but not necessarily in an awkward way. I’m about halfway done with the scarring on his cheek, the one that’s supposed to look like a fresh wound.

“So, how’d you get into makeup?” Colt asked, careful not to move his mouth too much.

“Oh, that’s a bit of a long story,” I told him, adding highlights to the scar.

“I’ve got time,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“If you say so…” I mumbled, before telling him the abridged version of how I got into makeup.

“I have to say, I’m really glad your mom bought you the wrong pallet,” he commented at the end of my story.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at what you do,” he complimented, sincerity in his voice as he checked himself out in mirror. By that point I had finished his face, and stepped behind him so he could see himself. We both smiled, eyes meeting in the glass.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to cringe at the light blush that had appeared on my face.

Looking back on it, I think my crush on Colt Seavers really did develop on day one. But little did I know, it’d only get stronger.

𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼𐬿𐬼

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