#tom ryder one shot

[dare-writes]

Messy Kissing

Tom has a photoshoot idea.

Aaron's Masterlist

tom ryder x female reader

genre: fluff, nsfw implication (paragraph starts with The photoshoot went great until Tom decided a ‘Lunch Break’ was necessary.)

WC: 2.0k

sexual content warnings: referenced m!receiving oral

warnings: reader gets hate from Tom's fans (mentioned), kissing, publicly... Tom is your #1 fan, Reader is a Tom Tamer!, reader fixed him????, established relationship, Tom loves love, and Tom hates haters, Tom is lowkey just always hot and bothered over you

Inspired by my ‘Tom Ryder, who got that as an approved photoshoot concept but only allowed you to kiss him. (He got you to do a few down his abs (alternating sides because “isn’t that cool?!”)and one kiss mark just at the waistband of the pants/boxers he wore)’

im so back (im exhausted this was meant to be done weeks ago im sorry chat)

__

If there were some things everyone should know about Tom, it would be 1) He loves you, 2) No, he doesn’t plan to leave, and 3) He is a chronic social media scroller. If he’s between roles, he’s lounging in his Beverly Hills house in The Flats, either tanning or rotting while scrolling through various secret social media accounts he had.

More often than not, he saw comments about you. Most were cute, some were funny, and few were rancid. It made Tom coil in irritation. Managing to find a lover outside of the film industry was the greatest thing to happen to him. Hell, a lover outside the industry got him sober, makes him happy, and most importantly to him? She supports him endlessly but keeps him humble.

The first time you visited the set, Tom insulted a crew member, and you were immediately on his tail. 

“Tom, did you insult her for getting a coffee order wrong? She’s not even your PA.”

“No, Tom, that isn’t okay! She’s a part of sound, not everyone who works for you.”

“You didn’t just say that—Thomas Ryder! You’re going to drive me insane! Working with you, they work with you! Not for you!” 

It took a few months of those conversations to get Tom to listen. Of course, he still has his moments. Thankfully, he’s gotten better. It’s like Tom entirely forgot about the little devil he always listened to on his shoulder, preferring the little angel holding his hand.

Tom hated seeing distasteful comments about you, so he often mass-reported them. Sometimes, he would get reported for his… distasteful response to nasty comments, but no one hurts his angel!

Your social media was rarely used, especially since it was a private account. It wasn’t hard to avoid hateful comments if you weren't active on the apps. Twitter was never somewhere you chose to be because of hurtful language.

Tom noticed that all your social media apps were offloaded on your phone while cuddling against your chest one day. You never knew Tom to be so observant. He knew your cafe/Starbucks orders and your go-to food places, but you would never expect the guy with his walls covered in sticky notes to notice something as small as this. That's when he began planning his next shoot with a creative director he worked closely with at the beginning of his career.

Months before Valentine’s Day, he was scheduled for a themed shoot. The company worked closely with Tom to make the concept, and Tom made it for them when he heard the ideal release would be just before February 14th. 

The studio wanted sexy. Tom wanted dedication to you. So they compromised. 

__

“Tom, I never come to your shoots, ‘sides I have the quarterly report coming up soon.”

“I know, baby, but please! I need your support!” Tom said, tugging you along into the studio. “Besides, you’re going out tonight with Lucky, Malina, and Gina?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and stopped following him. His arm tried to tug you further, but you didn’t relent. He sighed and stood before you, waiting for the elevator. “Yeah, but that’s at like 7? It’s 8 in the morning, Tom.” 

Tom pouted and grabbed your other hand, “They can do your makeup; I’ll work my T.Ryder Magic! Please, baby, I want you to be there.”

“Really?” You asked skeptically. He loved your cinched eyebrows when you questioned him, even if it was slightly in doubt.

“Really,” Tom nodded. You sighed as the elevator dinged its presence. “Fine.”

Tom childishly pumped his fist and pulled you into a kiss, murmuring against you. “Good.”

It was a protracted fiasco, pulling you into costumes and makeup. The costumes weren’t bad, and Tom tried everything on while you watched. He was like a puppy, waiting for your approval for each outfit. And approval he got, each mostly dark in concept. Most also wore open shirts and praised his toned body one way or another. He tried them all on before getting pinned up for sizing to tailor. 

Soon enough, Tom was dragging you off to a new room. A few colorful backdrops, a bustling assistant, the photographer, and the digital technician were testing the camera and monitor, and a creative director was waving Tom over. 

“Stay here,” Tom mumbled before kissing your forehead. He took off his clothes, hair, and makeup, which were splendid. The director nodded at his appearance, approving his more straightforward outfits.

During the photo shoot, his clothing slowly shed, and you paid no mind. He had done plenty of scenes and photo shoots that were considered more risqué than this. As much as Tom loves his acting, he personally hates romance-related scenes. He wanted thrill and action, not slow, passionate romances. He got enough with you and was more than satisfied with you. 

White flashes have become customary to you; you are slightly used to them now. Despite that, Tom doesn’t ever want flash photography while down red carpets or any other flashy event. He tries to be considerate, even if he doesn’t seem like it. (Yes, there are instances of Tom yelling at the paparazzi for their overly white blinding flashes. It was a viral ‘issue’ that he spoke against .) 

Amid the white, a makeup artist rounded to your side. At some point, the creative director joined the MUA and, and various swatches of reds and pinks littered your now chapped lips. The occasional swipe of a random lip hydrates while they attack your drying lips with new lip colors.

Tom’s smile towards you was unknown to you; he liked watching the pampering and the unusual expression on your face. It was dumb early in the morning, your confused tilt and breathy sighs between new swipes of lip colors on you. Tom rarely got to see you dazed and confused, only getting that look from you after a very blazing night of messy kisses, heated whispers, and arousal swirling in the air. Tom would avoid looking at you as often as possible. He did his best only because he refused to get a stiffy in the middle of the photoshoot.

Lilian, the makeup artist, finally settled. After hundreds of lip swatches, thin papers are applied to the lips to create prints for kiss marks. 

Tom wandered over finally, barely in anything now. His low-rise jeans and the elastic band of his briefs peaked out. His overly defined pelvic bones pointed directly where his privates were. A pretty dark red painted across your lips. He looked back at the creative director for a moment, who nodded. 

Before you could look up at him, he leaned down to your lips and kissed you chastely. Instinctively, you leaned into the kiss. Then he moved his face to make you connect your lips to his right cheekbone. You audibly gasped when he pulled away, a well-placed dark kiss spot left on his cheekbone. 

“Tom!” 

“It’s fine,” he said, waving his hands. You tried to stand and reach his cheek to smear the red away, but he stopped—a simple soft hold on your wrist before he kissed it softly. 

“It’s a part of the shoot.”

His response fell on deaf ears. “Tom, we have to get your makeup redone-“ 

Lilian handed you a paper. The small Ariel print in the corner told you everything you needed. 

TRYDER_VDAY25_CONCEPT_SHOOT

Photoshopped kiss marks on Tom’s pre-shoot from a couple of weeks ago. He is in the same clothing from the initial fitting, dark red kiss marks littering his cheek, neck, and chest, and a few scandalous ones you can see peeking from beneath the waistband (it was half erased on the image to give that look).

The photo shoot was a whirlwind to begin with. Now, it was just making your head spin. You sighed in relief, the paper falling to your side with your other hand no longer scrunching your hair messily. The hairstylist groaned quietly in the corner underneath Tom’s coming sentence.

“Happy Valentine’s Day?” Tom questioned with a cocky smile. 

“That’s over a month away.”

“I know! But it was a surprise! For you! And between you and me?” Tom leaned in, kissing your temple softly before wrapping an arm around you. “I wanted to rub it in people's faces, and I’ve got a wonderful partner who loves me at all times.” 

Your lips unknowingly pouted as you looked up to meet his eyes. He winked back and pressed another kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

 “I love you too,” Tom said against your skin. 

“Shall we get started again?” The director asked. Tom looked back at him with a nod. “Ready.”

—

The photoshoot went great until Tom decided a ‘Lunch Break’ was necessary. He even bought a ton of food to get you stolen away to his private room for the time being. There wasn’t a lot of eating to be done, but a dark red lip stain around the base of his cock and your slightly tearful eyes said enough. 

He returned all the favor, saying he would do the same to you if he had lipstick ready. You said absolutely not. 

When the photos were released, people obviously had mixed reactions. Most people speculated they were edited. Plenty of people assumed it was just a Valentine’s Day thing. His haters were not pleased to see you in the interview behind-the-scenes videos. 

A steady camera recorded you smiling and talking with a creative director. The male director even leaned in to kiss Tom’s neck a few times to decide where it would look good on him. 

There are a few other clips of just Tom and a strangely weird close-up of you and Tom. It cut right to you just applying lipstick, your finger holding down on the next target spot to kiss. Following was of you leaning to kiss his collarbone. 

It was easy to understand why it was put in. Tom leaned down to kiss your head while you kissed his collarbone. 

Another was of Tom winking at the camera while you kissed down every opposite ab, left down right, right down left. “Isn’t that cool?” Tom said, pointing down at his girlfriend kissing his stomach. 

With a click of your tongue, you stood up. With a glare lacking real hatred, you walked beside the creative director. Watching Tom pose for the next few minutes was hypnotizing.

Tom, in his element, was never disappointing, and honestly, his attitude was deserved at the beginning of his career before it inflated his big head. If you weren't working your office job, you would find a way to watch Tom work, whether it was interviews, filming movies, or just these photoshoots. Part of you wished you were apart of this world instead of the stuffy business world you got stuck into.

Watching the video with Tom was even funnier, until the worst clip came to your disbelief.

Tom laughed maniacally as the director pointed you two into the shame corner. There was a single curtain and a full-length mirror for Tom to check his appearance. The camera zoomed in on you with your face hidden in your hand, and Tom dragged you in with a smile. 

The worst clip of all was when the creative director said you and Tom had to do the kiss stains beneath his waistband. It took about 10 minutes to find the right angle so that the kiss was visible. After those 10 minutes, Tom was finally pulling his briefs and jeans back up. 

The entire fiasco of planning a photo shoot to make haters revel in his love was worth it. Tom didn't care too much about the toxic people filling his DM requests; they weren't worth the time he could spend on you.

He was more than delighted to post you daily rather than scroll through comments from those who groveled over him.

It was even better to have Tom post a picture of you and him with a sloppy mess of dark red lipstick at midnight for Valentine’s Day that year after the photos were released. The outfits you two wore were the same as in the behind-the-scenes video.

At exactly 11:58 on February 14th, 2025, before the night ended, Tom posted another three stories about you. One is you guys on a real Valentine’s Day date from that day. You dolled up across the table from him, sporting the same dark-colored lipstick from that photoshoot.

Another was of you and him, red lipstick smeared across each of your lips again to mirror the original picture from the photo shoot.

Tom also had to make the caption Happy Messy Kissing Day, everyone!

[storiesforallfandoms]

the space cowboy and the pa ~ tom ryder;the fall guy

word count: 2869

request?: no

description: in which the big movie star takes interest in the pa of his new movie

pairing: tom ryder x female!reader

warnings: swearing, tom being tom, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

When you were hired as a PA on a major sci-fi blockbuster, you were obviously beyond ecstatic. It was a big deal for many reasons, and it would look great on your resume as the first film you worked on.

What you didn't expect was for your job to essentially become you running after Tom Ryder all the time.

You knew who Tom Ryder was before you were hired on to Metalstorm. Everyone did. His face was on every screen and every poster. But besides knowing him for his work, you were also warned about his work ethic and entitled attitude. You couldn't say you were surprised to hear that. You figured most celebrities of his status were all into themselves. But when you started working with him, you realized it wasn't just his stuck up-ness, it was his lack of work ethic. Truly, you had no idea how any of his movies ever got made.

You didn't agree to work on Metalstorm so you could chase a self obsessed ego maniac around all day and convince him to come do his job. That's now what a PA is meant to do. On the plus side, Jody was very sympathetic and apologetic to you over this. Jody had worked with Tom for years, and had actually been the one to warn you about Tom's behavior. She knew you didn't want to just be a lacky to Tom Ryder, but when Tom's personal assistant was constantly out taking care of his dogs or getting him his super (annoyingly) specific Starbucks order, and everyone else was too busy trying to make a huge blockbuster to do it themselves, the responsibility had to fall to someone.

So, when you arrived on set to see Jody with her head in her hands, a sign that she was stressed, you already knew what was happening.

"He was supposed to be here an hour ago," Jody said, exasperated. "We don't have much time left for this shoot and there's still so much to be done, but he's nowhere to be found."

You looked up at Gail, sipping her usual Diet Coke. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I've already gone to his trailer twice. Each time he said he was on his way to set."

"Clearly he wasn't," you muttered. "I'll go find him."

"(Y/N), no - " Jody started.

"Try to film something with Colt in place of Tom or something," you told her. "I'll get the dickhead to set."

You made off for Tom's trailer. It was incredibly easy to find among the sea of other cast and crew trailers because it was the biggest one. He could probably live out of it if he hadn't gotten a huge apartment to stay in while filming. His name was printed in big, bold letters on the door, as if the size of the trailer alone wasn't enough to signal that it belonged to the star of the movie.

You walked in without knocking, something you'd realize later you might've regretted if you had found Tom in a more...revealing position. Luckily, he was just laying on the trailer couch, a sleep mask over his eyes and AirPods in his ears. He didn't notice you walked into his trailer, so you did something else you'd probably regret: you flicked Tom's forehead to get his attention.

He jumped and ripped off his sleep mask, snapping, "What the fuck?!"

You crossed your arms as his eyes readjusted to the light. He looked up at you and took out a headphone. "What do you want?"

You rolled your eyes. "You, on set, now."

"Gail already came to tell me it was call time. I'll be there in a minute."

"You were meant to be on set an hour ago. There's no more 'minutes', you're coming now."

Tom sat up. "Listen, assistant, I have a very intense process before I start filming that takes time and concentration. Gail already interrupted me, and now that you have as well I'll have to start all over. Tell Jody not to worry a hair on her pretty head, I will be there."

A combination of general frustration with Tom's behavior and the fact that he was dismissing you as just an "assistant" caused you to finally snapped. You grabbed Tom's sleep mask and snatched his headphones from his ears. He protested, but you ignored him as you kicked open his trailer door and chucked the objects as far as you could.

When you turned back to Tom, he was on his feet and he looked furious. But you refused to be intimidated by him.

"You listen to me, Tom Ryder," you said. "I don't give a shit about your stupid fucking pre-filming rituals. What I do give a shit about is this movie, that you're supposed to be the star of. I am sick and tired of chasing you around like a toddle to round you onto set when that is not my job. So, please, get off your ass and do your job."

You turned to leave, but paused to add, "And I'm a PA, not your assistant."

You walked out of his trailer, the frustration slowly starting to evaporate. You didn't think your words were going to have any effect on Tom. If anything, you were sure it would just make him pissed off and he probably wouldn't even come to set at all now. You'd feel worried for your job if you weren't so happy with yourself for finally telling Tom off.

You were planning on how you were going to tell Jody about what happened with Tom when you heard his trailer door open. You turned to see Tom stepping out of the trailer, already dressed in his gold space cowboy outfit which you hadn't noticed before.

He brushed past you, saying, "Let's shoot this fucking thing."

You let out a sigh of relief as you trailed after him.

Tom, luckily, was super professional and fantastic at his job for the remainder of the day. So much so that Jody was literally jumping from her seat to praise the cast, and to show her relief that the day had finally gone well. You were equally thrilled by this because it meant you were finally able to do your actual job.

When Jody finally called it for the day, you were collecting your stuff and noticed someone approaching you. You looked up to see it was Tom. You braced yourself for the verbal berating you were likely about to get.

"Hey," he said. "PA. What's your name?"

You'd be offended if it were anyone else asking. You had been working with Tom for months, so most people would expect that he'd know your name, but considering that he viewed you as just another assistant until hours ago, you weren't shocked that he hadn't deemed you important enough to remember your name.

"(Y/N)," you told him. "And, listen, I'm sorry about what I said earlier - "

"No you're not," Tom cut you off. "That level of verbal smackdown only happens when you've been holding something in for a long time and you've finally had enough. And you're right, I haven't been making things easy for anyone on set this whole filming process."

Was this some sort of joke? Were the cameras still rolling trying to film your reaction? Had you passed out suddenly while filming and now you were dreaming? There was no way that Tom Ryder of all people was admitting to his faults, especially to someone he couldn't even be bothered to learn the name or occupation of until seconds ago.

When you didn't respond, Tom continued on, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Uh...just going back to my hotel room, I guess. Maybe grab a drink with Jody at the hotel bar."

"Change your plans. You're gonna come have a drink with me instead."

It wasn't a question because Tom Ryder didn't have to ask questions. Tom Ryder was used to just smiling at a woman - or at a man honestly - and having them fall to his feet immediately.

So imagine his surprise when you said, "No."

You started to walk away from him, but he quickly moved to follow you. "Uh...maybe you didn't hear me correctly."

"No, I heard you just fine," you said. "The answer is no."

"But...why?"

You stopped walking to turn and face him. "Tom, you are the star of this movie, and I am a production assistant. There are so many levels of not right about me getting drinks with you."

"It's just drinks," he said with a shrug.

"It's a date, and I can't go on a date with you while we're working together."

You turned to walk away from him again. This time, he didn't follow. He watched you go for a while before calling out, "What about when we're not working together?"

You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. "We'll see."

~~~~~~

Weeks later, the filming of Metalstorm came to a close. It have become much less painful on set as Tom was always in costume and on set at the time he was supposed to be, sometimes even earlier. Everyone was so shocked by his sudden change, but no one was going to question it. There was too much left of the movie to be filmed to start bringing attention to the fact that Tom was actually being a professional.

During the last few weeks, Tom did not give up on his pursuit of you. He didn't ask you out again, but he was constantly sending you gifts to remind you that he still wanted to go out with you: flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals. The one that really made you laugh was when you found a magazine with him on the cover, shirtless, in front of your hotel room door.

The last day on set, as everyone was celebrating the end of the shoot and saying their emotional goodbyes, you walked up to Tom and slipped a piece of paper into his hand. When he opened it, he saw your number written on it.

You got a text almost immediately after: "drinks, my place. i'll send a car for you"

You got ready at the hotel, putting on the nicest thing you had packed. You hadn't really packed any dresses or outfits that would be date worthy because you weren't expecting to go on any dates. The closest thing you had was a nice pair of jeans and a short sleeved button up blouse that was white with red and pink flowers on it. It seemed more professional work vibes than date vibes, but that's all you had really prepared for.

You also hadn't packed makeup, not expecting to need any when you were just here for work, so you had to hope Tom wasn't expecting you to show up completely dolled up.

The car he had sent for you showed up around 8pm and took you directly to his apartment. He was waiting for you by the door, also dressed more casually than fancy for a date, so you felt a little relieved.

"Hey," he said when you got out of the car. "You look great."

"Thanks," you said. "Are we, um, staying in for drinks?"

"Yeah, I figure that's probably the better option. Less likely to be surrounded by paparazzi or crazy fans if we just hang out in my place."

Right, that would make sense.

You hadn't really thought about the fact that someone like Tom probably didn't get to go out as much as a normal person would. He hadn't been to any of the Metalstorm cast and crew nights out, but you had chalked that up to him thinking he was too good to go out with everyone else. Maybe it was actually because he felt like he couldn't.

You followed Tom into his apartment. Although, "apartment" was definitely an understatement. The place was bigger than the house you had grown up in, and even had two floors and a rooftop pool. You couldn't help but marvel at everything - the largeness of it, as well as all the film memorabilia Tom had placed on the walls and the shelves. And then you came across the walls covered in sticky notes and found yourself confused.

Tom noticed the look on your face as you stopped to read a few of the notes and laughed. "I like to remember things."

"'Next role: paramedic vampire'?" you read, giving Tom a playful look.

"I think that could be a good role. Imagine a paramedic who is also a vampire, and sometimes they have to struggle with all the blood they're exposed to every day."

"So basically Carlisle Cullen from Twilight?"

"I've never seen those movies so I don't know."

You chuckled as you followed him to the mini bar.

"What do you drink?" he asked. "I have...basically everything."

"Give me a whiskey neat." He raised an eyebrow at you. "I had a lot of hard nights during film school. You learn to enjoy the hard stuff."

He smiled and grabbed you a glass. He filled it halfway with a whiskey that definitely looked very expensive, and then got himself a glass as well. He held his glass up to you, and you tapped yours against his.

"What are we toasting to?" you asked him.

"To the movie finally wrapping so I could take you on a date."

You couldn't help but smile as you took a sip of your whiskey.

"There's something I have to ask you before we move forward, though," you said. Tom leaned against the island between you two and motioned for you to continue. "When did you and Iggy stop dating? I mean...obviously you've stopped dating...right?"

Tom chuckled. "Would I have asked you on a date if we hadn't?"

"I don't know how you big hot shot celebrity couples do relationships. Maybe you guys are like...open? I don't know."

"We're not, and we're not together. We broke up just before Metalstorm started filming."

You winced. "That's rough."

"That's acting. You can't just throw away a whole role because you have to act alongside your ex. Besides, it was mutual, and now she's dating Jason Momoa."

"And you're on a date with the PA from Metalstorm."

Tom gave you a look. "Don't say that as if it's a downgrade or something. I like you, that's all that matters."

You were speechless. This was the most sincere you had ever heard Tom be. Usually he was yelling or cursing on set because he felt like the take he did was awful, or he was annoyed by the Australian heat in his shiny gold costume. You had no idea that Tom Ryder had a softer side of him. Actually, you weren't sure anyone knew that.

You and Tom eventually moved from the car to the couch in his lounge. He turned on a movie ("I promise it won't be my own", he had joked) and the two of you sat close but not close enough to be touching. Tom had his arm across the back of the couch behind you, just begging for you to lean into him. You'd keep inching closer every so often until finally your side was pressed against his, and you were able to rest your head on his shoulder.

You couldn't help but think about how surprised you were with how quickly things had changed these last few weeks. For a majority of filming, you had basically hated Tom. You thought he was egotistical and annoying. You never would've thought you'd be on a date with him once filming had wrapped. Sure, you thought he was attractive. Anyone with eyes could see that. But you didn't think he would ever see you as someone to go on a date with, let alone that you would have agreed if he asked.

At some point during the movie, Tom shifted and moved away from you. You looked up at him, confused, to find him already looking down at you.

"I really want to kiss you," he admitted.

"What's stopping you?" you asked.

The answer was nothing, because once the words were out of your mouth Tom was cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss. It was one of those magical kisses that people in TV shows and movies always talk about. The ones where they say you feel a spark and you see stars. You didn't want it to end.

But eventually you had to pull away for air. You looked up at Tom, who now had a small grin on his face.

"I suppose there's no chance you'd want to stay over?" he asked.

You really wanted to say yes, but you knew you shouldn't. You weren't the type of person to put out on the first date, and you knew there was a huge risk of that happening if you stayed at Tom's for the night.

So, you sighed and shook your haed.

"Thought so," Tom said. "I'll just have to get enough kissing in before I have to let you go."

You giggled as he leaned in to kiss you again.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Here it is! - Spencer's Secret

[wokeupinmars]

Forever Flowers and a Perfect Night

Pairing: Colt Seavers x Medic!Reader

Summary: Colt finally addresses the lingering feelings between him and his favorite medic

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3K

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

Colt winced as you cleaned the cut right on his cheek. “Oh quit being a baby, you’ve had worse,” you hush him. 

“Are you this mean to all the other stuntmen?” he asks, as you apply antiseptic cream to the wound. “The other stunt guys aren’t as crabby as you are.” 

He pouts, “I am not crabby.”

“You’re right, you aren’t, at least not normally,” you admit, covering the cut with a bandaid. “Chin up, Honey,” you instruct. Colt obliges, giving you access to the abrasions on his chin and jaw. You apply a layer of Vaseline to the scrapes. “If I’m not crabby then what am I?” he questions.

You let out a hum, “Normally? You’re real sweet.” You hand him a thermos, “Thought you could use this,” you murmur, taking off your gloves and tossing them in the trash.

Colt unscrews the top and is immediately met with the smell of coffee. He lets out a slight groan, “Have I told you I loved you today?” he asks before taking a sip. 

You shake your head and turn away not wanting him to see the amused look on your face. “I saw that!” he says, excitedly. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, putting away your supplies. 

“C’mon, don’t do that to me, Sunshine…depriving me of your smile is just cruel.” You roll your eyes at him and plop down next to him, “Laying it on thick today, huh?” Colt has a dopey smile on his face as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, “How long are we going to do this dance?” 

You allow him to pull you close, “What dance?” 

“You pretending that you don’t have feelings for me and me pretending that I can’t see right through your little act,” Colt answers. “Sounds like you’ve taken too many blows to the head. Didn’t check for a concussion this time, probably should have” You muse, as Colt’s hand falls from your shoulder to your hip, rubbing circles against the fabric of your pants. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like me,” he tells you. 

“I tolerate you at best,” you quip. 

“That’s a lie and you know it, the only person you tolerate is Tom, and you barely do that as is. You like me, you like like me,” he replies. 

“Like like? What are we in? The third grade?” 

Colt grins, “You’re not denying it.” 

You pause for a moment, “Okay, I’ll bite. Suppose I did like you. Then what? What happens next?” You question. “All hypothetical, of course,” you add. 

His smile widens and he pulls you in a little closer, happy that you were entertaining him instead of shutting it down. “Hypothetically speaking…if you did like me, romantically, then I’d ask why you haven’t let me take you out yet?” 

“Well that’s simple, you never asked,” you reply. 

Colt takes a sip of coffee and then speaks, “So if I were to ask, you would say yes?” You rest your head on his chest, “There's only one way to find out.”

He opens his mouth to say something but he stops when Dan’s voice blares through the walkie-talkie. “Colt! Ryder left the set for lunch and never came back. The director wants you to stand in as a body double for the shot.” 

You take a deep breath and exhale, patting his shoulder as you get up, “Sounds like duty calls.” He catches your hand before you walk away, “You get off at seven today, right?” 

“Keeping tabs on me, Seavers?” you tease. 

Colt smirks, “Just observant…is it alright if I drop by your place later?” 

“It is,” you tell him, “Got something planned?” He hums, “Something like that, I gotta make a quick stop or two and then I’ll be over at yours by nine?”

“Works for me, Honey,” you say softly, caressing his cheek. 

“Wrap it up lovebirds,” Dan’s voice, tears Colt’s focus from you. “You can put the moves on your girl later, but for right now, you're needed on set.” You try to ignore the way your cheeks heat up at being referred to as Colt’s girl. 

Dan claps Colt on the back as they walk back to set. Colt glances back, shooting you a wink and the same smile you’ve grown all too familiar with, before putting his sunglasses on. You smile back and watch them go. 

————

A set of rhythmic knocks hit the door to your apartment, at nine o'clock on the dot. 

You open up the door after glancing through the peephole. “Hi, Colt” 

“Hi,” he says with a sweet smile. “I come bearing gifts,” he adds holding up the two bags, one which was a plain green reusable shopping bag and the other was a white plastic bag with the logo of your favorite takeout spot. You step aside and open the door wider for him, “Come in, Hon.” 

Colt walks in and he sets both bags down on your coffee table. “I got your favorite and,” he takes a box out of the green bag, “Flowers” 

A smile graces my face, “Legos.” Colt nods, “I wanted to get you flowers, but then I thought about that saying about how flowers given out of love last longer so I figured why not give you ones that do last forever.” His words make your heart melt. 

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him, “You’re really living up to your nickname.” His arms snake around your waist and hold you close, “Wanna put on a movie? We can eat and watch while we build the flowers, and talk about going on a date.” 

“I think this counts as a date,” you state. Colt pulls away slightly to look down at you, “Yeah? You’re happy with this being our first date and not being wined and dined at a fancy restaurant?”

You hum contently, “Sounds like a perfect first date to me…we can wine and dine another time.” 

So there you two were, seated on the floor of your living room, building the legos and taking bites of food every so often while Meet the Robinsons plays absentmindedly in the background. 

“Would you really have said yes if I asked you out earlier?” he asks. 

You nod your head, chewing and swallowing the food in your mouth before answering, “Yeah, I would have said something but I wasn’t sure if you actually liked me or it was just friendly flirting.” 

He attaches the head of the last rose to the stem, “Just friendly flirting over the past three years? Sweetheart, I think I was one kiss on the cheek away from losing my mind.” You hold an egg roll up to his mouth and he takes a bite, “And here I thought you liked it when I kissed you better,” you tease.

“That was the problem,” he says with his mouth full. You grin and bite into the other half of the eggroll. 

The night carries on and the two of you end up snuggling on the couch watching reruns of The Nanny. You laid on his chest, his heart was thumping under your ear. You tilt your head up to look at him, he’s already looking at you. “I’d say this is a pretty good first date," he mumbles.

“Almost perfect,” you affirm. 

Colt raises an eyebrow, “Almost? What can I do to make it perfect?” His fingers run up and down your back, tracing your spine. You shift up and lean down, “Everyone knows any good date ends with a kiss.” A smirk spreads across his face, he puts his hand on the back of your neck, “Can I?” 

“Please,” you whisper, leaning in further. He meets you halfway and presses a tender kiss to his lips.

“You’re blushing,” you whisper, taking a good look at him after you both pull away. “So are you,” Colt whispers before going in for another.

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 5

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fifth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — when you finally decide you've waited long enough to tell him what he means to you.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: Things are heating up!!! As you can tell, this chapter is a bit longer, and I can promise you, it's got a lot of good stuff in it :D By far my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have, and I appreciate all your kind words and support so much!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A week after you’ve made an official friendship declaration with Colt Seavers, you’re back on the dim, grimy underground train station set, getting ready to watch him throw himself in front of a moving train.

At the moment, Colt is standing on the other side of the train tracks, and you’re watching him from a considerable distance across the set. You have every reason to be there — this is the set you’ve been working on day and night for the last month, after all — but you’re not the least bit worried about any of your props or decorations. All you care about is making sure Colt pulls off one of his most dangerous stunts yet.

It’s been a strange week for you. On one hand, you’re glad that Colt knows you have some feelings for him, and that your friendship has been able to carry on without becoming awkward. His sincere, unexpected apology only made your feelings stronger, but you’re trying to ignore that.

All the same, being “just friends” is the slowest, most excruciating torture you’ve ever known. For one whole week, Colt has not done a single thing that could be interpreted as overly flirtatious, just as he promised he wouldn’t so you could be spared the pain. No subtle touches, no saucy looks, no double-edged words. It’s kind of him, really.

It also hurts like a razorblade on a third-degree burn.

Still, it’s better than nothing. As long as you can have him in your life in some way, you’re satisfied to try to quell these overwhelming feelings that threaten to break free at any moment. You’re in love with him — you know that now if you never knew it before — but you just have to be content knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way. That you have to love him as you’d love a friend.

So here you are, being a supportive friend as he casts himself headfirst into a dangerous situation. This stunt involves standing in for the film’s star, Tom Ryder, whose character is supposed to be shackled to a railroad track directly in the path of a moving train, only to break free just in time. Colt’s job is to pretend to be shackled down and jump up in plenty of time to clear the path of the moving train, which is, to your great dismay, not a prop in the slightest.

As the camera crew makes their last arrangements to start filming this shot, Colt turns from fiddling with a handcuff prop to catch your eyes in the crowd that has gathered to watch. He smiles when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting and throwing his trademark thumbs-up high above his head.

Your heart speeds up at the sight of Colt’s smile, and you wave back at him in what you hope is an encouraging manner.

“Hey, relax,” a female voice says in your ear. You turn to see Holly grinning at you as she walks back to the cameras that are already in position. “He’s done this kind of thing a million times.”

You cut your eyes at her with a smirk. “I’m not worried,” you insist.

Holly lifts both eyebrows and laughs at you, always able to read what you’re really thinking. You laugh with her, glad to feel the knot in your stomach loosening a little. Holly gives your hand a quick squeeze in encouragement before taking her place at the lead camera station.

When you look back at the set, Colt is already in position, crouched down on one knee with his hands behind his back. You know he’s not actually tied down, but even seeing the fake handcuffs almost makes you wish you hadn’t come to watch.

Elijah Gordon, the director, is shouting some instructions at the crew as they make their last-minute preparations. He’s already cued the train to start moving, as it takes nearly half a mile to get the desired speed for the shot.

“One minute, people!” Gordon bellows, situating himself on a camera dolly high enough that he can see the action below. “We’re doing this in one take, or we’re not doing it at all. Colt, remember I want it to look real!”

Colt grins up at Gordon, his face smeared with fake dirt and his teeth shining like a white band through the grime. “It is real, Gordon!”

Gordon gives a curt nod, then listens to a voice over the walkie-talkie. Though your mind is focused on watching Colt, you can’t help the creeping disdain that you always feel when it comes to Elijah Gordon. The man is a phenomenal director, but he’s also the most callous, self-centered, inconsiderate person you’ve ever known. Knowing Colt’s life is more or less in Gordon’s hands makes you feel queasy.

The train whistle pierces the echoey tunnel chamber, and Gordon lifts his megaphone to shout, “Roll cameras!”

You put both hands over your mouth, dreading having to watch the scene play out. Colt looks entirely confident where he kneels on the railroad track, but you can’t help wondering what he feels in moments like this. Does he get scared? Does he lose faith in his own abilities? Does he ever doubt that the stunt will work perfectly? Can he afford to think like that?

A second train whistle stabs your ears, and you can feel your heart beating faster than ever before. You feel like you’re the one lingering on the tracks.

You can see the train now, and your eyes flit back to Colt, whose face is mostly hidden by the bandanna tied around his forehead. His muscles are tensed, ready to spring away at the perfect second. Gordon is shouting directions, his voice barely audible above the racket of the approaching train. He holds up his hand high in the air, signaling to Colt to stay in position.

The train eats up another hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred. Gordon’s hand doesn’t budge, and Colt keeps his eyes on the director for his cue to move.

You can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and it takes all your willpower not to screw your eyes shut. You keep them open as if caught in a trance, bouncing back and forth between Colt and the train as if you’re watching a tennis match.

The train rumbles closer and closer, now near enough that you can see the face of the man driving the engine. You hold your breath, waiting for Gordon to throw his hand down in a signal to Colt.

But Gordon’s hand doesn’t move. Another screeching whistle. The train is less than a hundred yards away now.

You know he should have given Colt the signal by now — you were there for the days of blocking and planning that went into this scene. Suddenly your lungs constrict as you realize Gordon is pushing Colt for a few more seconds on the tracks, long enough to make the film audiences gasp.

“Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice is drowned out by the roar of the train. Your feet are carrying you in a sprint before you even register your own movement. Two hundred feet away now.

“Gordon, stop it!” The director can’t hear you, but Holly does, whirling around and grabbing you by both arms to stop you from getting any closer to the set. You can see Colt’s eyes get wider as he realizes that Gordon isn’t lowering his arm.

Everything in your entire being is shuddering, wanting to shut down, wanting to scream, to explode into action, but Holly beckons for two other crew members to help hold you back. All you can do is watch as the train draws closer and Colt waits for Gordon’s signal. One hundred feet.

“Holly, make him stop!” you scream at your friend, whose distressed expression tells you you’re not alone in your confused panic.

At the last second, with the train less than fifty feet away, Gordon throws his hand down, and Colt is already in motion, somersaulting off the track and into the safety zone as the train — all forty tons of it — whizzes over the space that Colt occupied seconds ago.

Holly and her two crew members hold you back a second longer, and when the red light on the camera flickers off, you break past them and run as fast as you can onto the set. You can barely see where to step as you climb over the platform and down into the dingy, darkened train tunnel, tears blurring your vision and your pulse hammering in your ears.

Colt is leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his face as white as a ghost. Several crew members have already gathered around him, but you shove past them and throw your arms around his neck, uncaring of what anyone might think. You can feel Colt trembling in your arms even as his easygoing voice whispers in your ear, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Once you’re satisfied that he really is alive, you pull back, framing his face in your hands and searching his eyes with what you know must be a crazed look. Colt doesn’t say anything more; the color is slowly returning to his face, and his nerves are calming down now that the adrenaline wears off. He doesn’t, however, loosen his grip on you, betraying how shaken he still is.

“Nice work, Colt,” bellows a voice from the train platform. “That was just what we needed.”

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, all you can see is red.

Setting your jaw, you turn away from Colt and stride back to the platform with more rage than you can remember feeling in your entire life. Every muscle in your body is quaking visibly, and your voice rings out loud and clear over the chaos in the set when you shout, “How dare you?”

Gordon turns from his conversation with a cameraman and gives you a nonplussed glance. When he realizes that your yell and your power walk are directed at him, he dismisses the cameraman to deal with you head-on.

“Something you want to discuss?” Gordon asks you, condescension dripping from his voice.

Behind you, you hear Colt making his way onto the platform, his calm voice assuring you, “Hey, it’s okay—”

But you’re not in the mood to be comforted. “It is not okay, Colt,” you shout, your eyes still locked on Gordon. Every eye on the set is directed at you, now that you’ve chosen to make a huge scene with Elijah Gordon himself. Colt pulls to a stop beside you, but your words are still pointed at Gordon. “How could you make him do that? How dare you make him do that?”

“There wasn’t any real risk, kid,” Gordon says flippantly. “Keep your bonnet on.”

“No real risk?” you demand. “Did we just see the same scene? Colt was trying to get off the tracks to stay alive, and you forced him to stay on longer so you could get a ‘closer call’ on camera.”

Gordon’s brows lower at that. “Again, not life-threatening,” he snaps. “If it were, Colt wouldn’t have finished the stunt, and I wouldn’t have made him do it.”

“You weren’t the one staring down the headlights of a train!”

Colt rests his hand on your elbow in an attempt to get you to calm down, but Gordon fires back at you immediately, “He’s a stuntman, my dear. In case you folks in the set decorating department don’t know what that is, it means he does stunts. Sometimes those stunts are dangerous.”

Gordon’s arrogance only inflames your anger more. “I am completely aware that his job comes with risks,” you shout. “But those risks shouldn’t come from a toffee-nosed director who thinks human life is something to play with like a deck of cards.”

You feel Colt stiffen beside you, and his grip on your arm grows firmer. “Hey, it seriously is okay,” Colt assures you. “Just drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it, Colt. If that train had been a few seconds off count, you wouldn’t be part of this conversation. You’d be in pieces on the train tracks.”

Gordon raises his hands to cut in, replacing the harshness in his voice with honey. “Listen, my dear, let’s just keep a clear picture of who you are, all right? You’re here to make the sets look good. You do that very nicely, and I appreciate it. So why don’t you keep your little toffee-nosed opinions off the set where the actual movies are being made, okay?”

You feel a shift in Colt’s body language again, but this time, it’s directed towards Gordon. You stand your ground, shooting a steely-eyed stare at the director that would make any action star proud.

“I bet your producers wouldn’t appreciate hearing that you risked the life of their top stuntman,” you tell him softly.

Gordon laughs out loud at that, as do a few of the crew members standing around him. “Listen, sweetheart, the producers pay me to make their movies look good,” he informs you. His voice changes then, affecting a curious, offended tone. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on a little crusade lately about doing everything with practical effects? You want to change your stance and say I should do all the stunts in VFX? Your boyfriend will be out of a job if I do that.”

A few more crew members laugh, trying to reduce some of the tension that is radiating between you. You know you’re the only person who’s freaking out about Colt’s close call — it’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before — but you can’t help feeling like this is important.

“You absolute scumbag,” you hiss at Gordon. “You seriously are going to play this off like it’s just part of the process? Colt almost died—”

Holly comes up on your other side now, setting a calming hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, just—”

“I bet your producers would have loved to hear about that—”

“You need to calm down—” Holly says more firmly.

“And don’t you dare try to throw my own words at me like I’ve supported you risking people’s lives for a cool shot—”

Colt’s voice now. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” you explode, your voice echoing through the train station. “I mean, am I seriously the only one who sees any value in your life?”

Your comment is heavy, and everyone seems to feel the weight of it. Gordon hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between you, Colt, and Holly as if to make sure he’s not about to be physically attacked. The usual buzz of the crew is dead silent.

Finally, Gordon clears his throat and says dismissively, “If you’ve got a problem with me, kid, talk to the studio and see if they care. I can promise you they won’t.” He takes one step closer to you, and in a lower voice adds, “And in the meantime, keep your mouth shut about my processes. You’re good at your job, and I’d hate for you to have to get kicked off set just because you can’t keep your personal life separate from your professional one.”

With that, Gordon whirls around and walks back to the cameras to review the shot.

You’re still trembling with anger, your voice drying up in your throat as you realize that everyone in the crowd is still staring at you. You’re not ashamed of what you said, but you’re embarrassed that everyone on set had to witness it.

Ducking your head, you pull away from Colt and Holly and start walking out of the train station set. Only when the warm afternoon air hits your face do you realize tears have been streaming down your cheeks.

Colt is just a few steps behind you, and you look at him wordlessly, trying to read his expression. There’s not a trace of anger or confusion in his eyes — just a deep gratitude and affection. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the set.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The irony of that question isn’t lost on you. “This isn’t about me, Colt,” you state bluntly. You raise questioning eyes to him. “Does it really not bother you that he jeopardized you? Completely unnecessarily?”

Colt shrugs, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He seems so calm now, no traces of the panicky fear he couldn’t hide immediately after the stunt. “If I felt like it was unsafe,” he says carefully, “I would have jumped off the track no matter what he said.”

Another second, and it would have been too late.

“I know,” you acknowledge, a hint of emotion creeping into your voice. “I just… I don’t know. Just… seeing everyone act like it’s so casual and not important. Like your life doesn’t even make that much of a difference—”

“Hey,” Colt murmurs, stopping and turning you to face him so he can put both hands on your shoulders. “You are reading way too far into this, Picasso. No one is trying to eradicate my existence here.”

His tone is light and his eyes twinkling, and you know he’s trying to get you to laugh this off. But you just can’t.

“I know,” you whisper. “I just hate that it seems like I’m the only one who cares if you live or die. Including you.”

Your last statement makes Colt pause. You see the hesitation in his eyes as he mulls over what you’re implying. “Not true,” he replies at last, pulling you back under one arm as you resume walking towards the tents that have been set up for the crew.

“Really? Because you act like you don’t care.” Your voice holds no edge, no accusation. “You get more and more reckless with every stunt, and it just… it kills me to watch.”

You know you’re saying too much. You know you’re pushing the “just friends” agreement. But you can’t stop.

Colt takes his time responding to that. Suddenly, he seems to be really listening to the hidden meanings in your words, realizing that your outburst toward Gordon was indicative of something a lot deeper, something that you’re trying to communicate to him now. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your side, the gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder. His steps are perfectly synchronized with yours.

“Look, I don’t have a death wish,” Colt explains at last, a serious note in his voice. “This is my job; I love the danger that comes with it. It’s like I said, both of us do our jobs because it’s our passion, no matter the risks.”

You shake your head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was mad at you.”

Colt genuinely chuckles at that. “Believe me, it was obvious who you were mad at.”

“I guess I overdid it, huh?” You can feel some of the intense anger in your chest melting, and you let yourself release a slight laugh as you realize just what a spectacle you made: screaming at one of the world’s top directors on his own set.

“Maybe a little,” Colt confirms kindly. Once the two of you step inside one of the empty tents, he lifts his arm off your shoulders, and you turn to lean back against one of the wooden tables so you can face him. His face is still smeared with grime, and it suddenly reminds you of the moment you shared a few weeks ago, marking each other’s faces with your oil paints.

“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” you concede, letting your gaze fall to the ground. “I just… felt like it needed to be said after literally everyone on set witnessed it.”

Colt nods, smirking at you and crossing his arms to lean against one of the structure beams. “Hey, I appreciated it,” he says with a wink. “No one’s ever challenged a director to demand safer working conditions for me.”

“Maybe it’s about time,” you shoot back, your heart speeding up.

“Maybe.”

The moment falls quiet. The tent is empty besides the two of you, and all you can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind against the flaps of the tent. Colt tilts his head back against the beam he’s leaning on, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. You can tell that this stunt took a toll on him, even if he’s not showing it.

Without warning, all the feelings you’ve been hiding for the last few months threaten to spill out of your lips. Maybe it was seeing him so close to death; maybe it was your impassioned rant; maybe it’s just what happens when you love someone with the desperation of a drowning person reaching for air.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “I really do care about you, you know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head back up. “Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

His tone is humorous, but you’re not letting it go now that you’re committed. It’s now or never. “No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I know we’re just doing the friendship thing, but either way, I really care about you.” Colt lifts his head to fix his eyes on you, and you choose your next words carefully so he won’t misunderstand your meaning. “If you ever think that no one cares if you survive the stunts or not, I hope you know it’s not true. There’s one person in the world who would probably go insane without you around.”

Colt doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t sound completely serious either when he responds, “Ah, you’d be fine.”

“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that.”

“Look, Picasso, I’m just one guy in the world,” Colt reminds you, shaking his head as if he’s explaining something very simple. “You’re going to meet thousands in your career, which I know is going to be super long and super star-studded. You’ve got everything in your life to look forward to.”

You frown at him, caught off guard by his seemingly off-topic response. “Colt, what are you even talking about?”

He swallows hard, looking off to the side and trying to disguise the emotion tinging his voice. “I’m just… trying to tell you not to put so many big expectations on me. I’m the kind of guy who can only let you down.”

Your heart plummets at his words, and suddenly everything falls into place in your mind. He does care. He’s always cared. He just won’t show it because he thinks he isn’t good enough. The most wonderful man in the world thinks he isn’t good enough.

“That is not true,” you declare, standing up straight for emphasis. “You’re the kindest person I know, and the smartest, and the bravest, and the funniest—”

“I think you’re confusing me with Keanu Reeves.”

“I’m not joking around, Colt. When I’m with you, I can just be myself, and I know you’re going to be there for me. You’ve seen me at my worst, but you act like you only remember me at my best. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this feeling that everything in my life has led up to meeting you. Everything you do means so much to me. Every word you say, every minute we spend together is so, so precious to me. You are so precious to me.”

Your speech seems to stun Colt senseless. You have no idea where all that came from — you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to breathe until you had told him what you were feeling. Colt stands still as he processes your words, and you don’t regret a single one.

“Wow,” he finally whispers. “I have no follow-up for that.”

You shake your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t need one,” you tell him. “I just… felt like I should say it.”

Colt mulls over your words again. You wonder if anyone has ever talked to him like this, if you’re really the first one who has ever looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. How could I be? How is it possible that no one else has ever recognized you for the treasure that you are?

“It means a lot,” Colt replies softly. “Seriously, you… you have no idea. Thank you.”

You just nod in response, not sure where to go from here. Colt isn’t acting like himself, overcome by some emotion that you’re not sure of. You don’t know whether to reiterate your statements, or to wait for him to say something, or to just stand in silence together for awhile.

Colt finally breaks the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

You almost laugh at that, some of the tension sliding out of the atmosphere. “Yeah,” you assure him with a smile. “As long as you are.”

He nods at you, his own smile returning in a quiet sort of way. You’re transfixed by the gentle light reflecting in his eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, when he holds out both arms to you, lifting an eyebrow as an invitation.

You don’t hesitate for a second. Why should you, after you just confessed every secret thought in your heart?

You step into the warm circle of his arms, and he immediately lowers his forehead to rest in the curve of your neck. Colt seems so unsure of himself in this moment, in a way that you’ve never known him to be. He’s trembling slightly again the way he was after he had just leaped off the railroad tracks. You grip your arms around his neck even tighter, and Colt wraps his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.

In that moment, you know your assumption was correct. He does care about you as deeply as you do about him. You can feel it in his embrace, in his very heartbeat. Every time you move to pull him closer, he mirrors your movements, closing every inch of space that has ever separated you. The grimy film makeup on his face rubs off on your neck, but it’s the sweetest touch you ever felt.

Colt catches you off guard when he tilts his head just slightly to the side, just enough that his lips are resting on the side of your neck. His manner isn’t seductive or suggestive: it’s as if he’s just breathing you in, trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms. Your sensitive skin prickles at the sensation, and one of your hands finds its way up to thread in the ragged-cut hair at the base of his neck.

You can feel his impressive strength just by the way he holds you, but you can’t help marveling at the gentleness of his hands when he reaches up to stroke the back of your head, once, twice. When he cradles the base of your neck with all the tenderness of an old lover, your stomach twists itself into a knot. He’s killing you. It’s magnificent.

Colt finally lifts his head from your shoulder, his hand still resting at the back of your head. His thumb moves in lazy circles, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and his eyes drag up your face slowly until they meet your own in a gaze that burns hotter than a supernova.

“I’ve never told you,” you whisper, your breath filling the few inches between your faces, “and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m in love with you.”

The words are hardly out of your mouth when Colt squeezes his eyes closed, a look of pain crossing his face. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” he whispers back.

“It’s too late for that,” you tell him, tears choking your voice. “You don’t have to feel the same way. I just needed you to know.”

Colt doesn’t open his eyes, just shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in love with me,” he says softly, heartbreakingly. “My destination is a dead-end, and you deserve better than that.”

“Colt, I—”

“It’s better if we don’t go this route,” he tells you, opening his eyes so you can read the seriousness in his words. “You’ve got the most amazing future ahead of you. You’re going to be a lot better off without me dragging you down.”

Your heart constricts at his words. “Don’t you dare try to be noble about this,” you murmur, lifting your hands to frame his face. “You could never drag me down, and I couldn’t care less about what you think I ‘deserve.’ All I care about is you. All I want to do is love you, no matter what happens. If you really don’t feel that way about me, just say so. But if you feel as strongly for me as I do for you, please tell me. Please don’t break this off before we have a chance to even try it.”

The look that wells up in Colt’s eyes speaks to you in a language you’ve never understood before. His eyes roam your face, as if he’s searching for some hint that your words aren’t true, some way he can talk you out of your feelings. Realization dawns in his eyes as he reads the message you’re saying in everything but your words. I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time. You will always be enough for me. My heart is so full of you it barely even feels like it’s mine anymore.

He doesn’t kiss you — the distance between your lips and his feels like an interminable distance — but he lowers his face to yours in a way that is so tender, so intimate that all the breath leaves your body at once. He lets his cheek rest against yours, his beard brushing your skin softly, gently. You let your arms wrap around his neck again to pull him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with yours so he feels your meaning: I don’t ever want to let you go.

When his lips brush against your jaw, right below your ear, you can’t suppress your sharp intake of breath. You feel his hands resting on your waist, pulling you close against him, and you can hear his breath coming raggedly. He’s so different when he’s like this — no false confidence, no alleviating jokes, just the passion he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

You slide your fingers into his hair, and you can feel him react to your touch instantly. He raises his face from where he’s been resting it against yours, savoring in the contact every slow inch he moves. His eyes are closed when he brings his face level with yours again, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that is so effortlessly tantalizing. It takes all your strength not to tip your head back and drown in his kiss.

With his hand still resting on the back of your neck, Colt pulls you in close one more time, letting his forehead touch yours gently. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that envelops him — pine needles, cinnamon, and something salty. One moment more, just enough to savor how it feels to be wrapped up in the very essence of him, and Colt pulls back, releasing you from his hold.

“I just can’t do it to you, Picasso,” Colt says, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart plummets at his words. It wasn’t enough. All of it wasn’t enough to convince him of your love. Your words are the opposite of what you want to say, but you know there can be no other response. “If that’s what you want,” you answer quietly. “I’ll respect it.”

“I know.”

You take a few steps back, trying to ignore the agony that is so obvious is his voice. Colt still looks like he wants to snatch you back into his arms and beg you to repeat the confession you just laid at his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn, too sure he’s truly doing the right thing by letting you go. You don’t try to talk him out of it. You love him too much to try to change his mind.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You take care of yourself,” you murmur with a sad smile. “I mean it.”

“I will.” Colt doesn’t even attempt a smile back, the ache in his heart obvious on his face. His gaze wanders over your face for a moment longer, and then he turns and ducks out of the tent.

Once he’s gone, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and weep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 6

[babsworlds]

MY SAVIOR.

pairing. Tom Ryder x fem! reader

synopsis. Tom went too far with his love for parties.

warnings. drunk Tom, alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol poisoning, angst.

THERE WAS NEVER ANY DOUBT ABOUT TOM RYDER BEING A PARTY ANIMAL. He loved to party, no matter when or why.

And you were pretty aware of that; most of the time, you partied with him to enjoy yourself and also to keep an eye on him since Tom had no awareness of his surroundings when he partied.

But tonight was different. You were mad at Tom for choosing to go to a party instead of staying home with you for once. You had hoped for a quiet evening together, maybe a movie night or just some time to relax and reconnect. But Tom, true to his nature, couldn’t resist the call of another wild night out.

You sat on the couch, the flickering light of your favorite Harry Potter movie casting shadows across the room. You had hoped that immersing yourself in the world of magic and wonder would provide some comfort and distraction from your frustration. The familiar scenes and characters brought a sense of nostalgia and warmth, but it wasn't enough to fully quell the anger simmering inside you.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to Tom. You couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment and hurt that he had chosen a party over spending time with you. You wished that, just once, you could be his priority.

On the other side, Tom was enjoying himself far too much. More than any other time before. He knew you were mad at him, and in a way, he was mad at himself too. He hated that feeling of guilt and disappointment, so he decided to drown it all out with drinks.

The party was in full swing, with music blaring and people dancing. Tom moved from group to group, throwing back shots and laughing loudly. He was determined to have a good time, trying to push away the nagging thoughts of you sitting alone at home, upset with him.

But no matter how much he drank, the guilt lingered at the back of his mind. He missed you, and deep down, he knew he should have stayed home with you. The more he drank, the more he realized that the party wasn't as fun without you by his side.

He sat alone on the couch, bottles of alcohol by his side, and illegal substances scattered on the small table in front of him. He was barely conscious, his mind hazy and his vision blurred. The room around him seemed to spin, the noise of the party fading into the background as he teetered on the edge of losing consciousness.

Tom's head drooped forward, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. The realization of how far he had fallen hit him hard, even through the fog of intoxication. He knew he had pushed things too far this time, and the consequences were starting to catch up with him.

As he sat there, a wave of regret washed over him. He thought about you, alone at home, likely worried and angry. The guilt gnawed at him, intensifying the already overwhelming sense of disorientation. He needed to pull himself together, to find a way out of the spiral he was trapped in.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” His friend approached him, worry etched on his face. Tom didn't really look good, his eyes glazed and his movements sluggish.

“Hm hmm,” Tom murmured with a weak smile, his head lolling to the side. He tried to muster some semblance of reassurance, but it was clear that he was struggling.

“That’s no fun, man. You don’t look good,” the friend said, concern deepening in his voice. He knelt beside Tom, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Tom's friend scanned the scene, noticing the empty bottles and scattered substances. “You’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “You look like you have alcohol poisoning.”

“Naaah, I’m fine,” Tom said, his voice slurred. His friends gathered around, worry etched on their faces. They knew Tom could usually handle a lot of alcohol and substances, but this time was different. He didn’t look good at all.

“We should call an ambulance,” one of the group suggested, looking around for agreement. The others nodded, their concern growing.

Tom panicked as he heard the word "ambulance”, the thought of medical intervention was too much for him in his state. “No, no,” he resisted, his voice weak and desperate.

“Just call my girl,” Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper. The only thing he wished for at that moment was to be with you. He knew you could handle him, that you would know what to do.

The group shared worried looks as they all realized they didn’t have your number. Tom, noticing their concerned faces, murmured, “My phone case.”

One of his friends quickly reached for Tom’s phone next to him. Behind the plastic transparent case was a polaroid of you, smiling brightly. His friend pulled it out, and on the other side was your number. Tom had always kept this polaroid behind the case, just in case something happened to him.

Without wasting any more time, his friend dialed your number, hoping you would answer quickly. As the phone rang, they all tried to keep Tom conscious and reassured him that help was on the way.

You looked confused as you saw your phone ringing at this late hour, especially from an unknown number. “Hello?” you spoke carefully.

“Hi, Y/n. We need you to pick up Tom,” the unknown voice on the other end said. “He’s like super drunk.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and concern. “That’s his problem,” you shrugged, still mad at him for choosing the party over spending time with you.

“C’mon, Y/n, he looks like he’s poisoned,” the male voice urged, the worry in his tone evident.

This time, you finally listened. As much as you wanted to stay mad, you couldn’t allow something to happen to Tom. Despite everything, he was still your Tom, and you couldn't bear the thought of him being in danger.

You got up from the couch, your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder. "Where are you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I'll send you the location," the voice on the other end replied.

You quickly grabbed your hoodie and slipped it on, already heading towards the door. As you walked, you heard the notification ping on your phone, indicating the location had been sent. With a sense of urgency, you opened the message and quickly noted the address.

Sliding into the driver's seat of your car, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before starting the engine. Your mind raced with thoughts of Tom, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of worry and frustration. He had pushed things too far this time, and you were determined to make sure he was safe.

As you drove through the quiet streets, the glow of streetlights illuminating your path, you mentally prepared yourself for the conversation that would come once Tom was home. You needed him to understand how his actions affected you and how important it was for him to prioritize your relationship.

When you got to the location, Tom and the group were already in front of the building, sitting on the bench and waiting patiently.

“Oh my goddess,” you cursed under your breath as you saw your boyfriend in that state. Tom didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a look of shame, his eyes reflecting his regret.

His friends helped you get Tom to the passenger seat of your car. “Thank you,” you said to them, genuinely grateful for their assistance. They nodded, sharing your concern for Tom.

As you climbed into the car, you glanced over at Tom. He seemed to be barely holding on, his head resting against the window. You knew that you needed to get him home safely and that the conversation about his behavior would have to wait until he was in a better state.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you stared straight ahead at the road, refusing to look at Tom. “You’re fucking asshole,” you said through a sob, quickly wiping the tears away with one hand while keeping the other on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry,” Tom murmured against the window, his voice weak and filled with regret.

You rolled your eyes at his apology, feeling a surge of frustration. How could he think that a simple “sorry” would make everything better? The hurt and disappointment you felt couldn’t be erased so easily.

The car ride continued in tense silence, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you. You wanted to be angry, to shout at him for his reckless behavior, but the worry for his well-being overshadowed everything else.

“You’re my savior, Y/n,” Tom broke the silence, his head now turned towards you. You looked at him with a confused expression. “I love you,” he said again, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You didn’t answer. Even though you loved him more than he would ever know, you couldn’t find the words to express it. The mix of emotions—anger, relief, love—left you speechless.

“Y/n, please say something,” Tom demanded, his hand resting on your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You took a deep breath, feeling the block in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. “There’s so much I want to say,” you trailed off, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. “But I don’t know where to start.”

You threw your hands in the air, frustration bubbling over. “I mean, I love you, but I hate the way you act like I’m not your priority,” you cried out, your hands landing back on the wheel.

“But I know you don’t—” you turned your head to him, ready to continue, only to find him asleep. The sight of him, vulnerable and exhausted, softened your anger.

Deep down, you wished he would just understand how you felt. You felt like he didn't truly listen to you, like your emotions and concerns went unheard. As you drove, the weight of that realization pressed down on you, filling you with a sense of loneliness despite Tom being right there beside you.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Save a Horse, Ride a (Space) Cowboy

tom ryder x reader 2.2k words

summary: Tom in his space cowboy outfit really does something to you. Something that makes you forget about everything else.

tw! almost smut. really basically smut.

(THE PICTURE HAS BEEN UPGRADED YESSSS!!!!! thank you all for bearing with me <3)

masterlist

It's hot. It's unbearably fucking hot. You're sweaty, your shirt is sticking to your back, your sun hat seems to have no effect at all anymore and that Tom is running around right in front of your face in that gods damned space cowboy outfit is not helping at fucking all to cool you down.

Fucking hell.

It's genuinely not funny anymore.

Tom himself had you rubbing your thighs together more than often enough, but with that fucking cowboy hat on too now? Holy shit.

The only good thing about the desert heat is that you can blame the sweaty stickiness you're feeling on the temperature, the sun and the sand. Maybe not how you've soaked through your underwear, but... It's a start, at least. It's probably why Tom hasn't subjected you to one of his scrutinising stares yet - one of those with raised eyebrows and his whole attention focused on you.

You're restless because of the sand. Sweaty because of the sun. Avoiding his gaze because you're so uncomfortable in this blazing hot weather.

...Yeah.

"One more take and we're done", Jody shouts. You can hardly bite back a groan. Wonderful. One more time you'll have to watch Tom run around in that fucking outfit. At this point, it's close to torture. A part of you wants to just dash back to the trailer and take a very, very, very cold shower.

But you can't, this is your job, so you close your lips around the straw sticking out of your water bottle and watch. Watch Tom in that goddamn cowboy hat save his alien princess.

"You're drooling", Venti whispers, startling you so badly you flinch away from her. God, she has a fucking talent for appearing in places she shouldn't be.

"Fuck off", you mutter, your eyes clinging right back to Tom as he wraps his arms around his co-star. Oh, you'd very much like to switch places with her right now - even in this boiling desert hell.

"You know, technically, he's your boss", Venti goes on, entirely undeterred by your not-so workplace friendly language.

"Technically, he's my boyfriend", you bite right back at her, trying hard not to get weak in the knees as the camera zooms in closely on Tom's face, all big eyes and chiseled features appearing on the display next to you. He's fucking marvellous, goddamn him.

You still don't know just how he's your boyfriend. Venti's right - technically, he's your boss. You'd applied as his assistant one day and now here you are, dating the most famous action star of the moment. And he really does have it all: the face, the fame, the green. You're not quite sure he's even real, to be completely honest. A tiny part of you is constantly dreading that when you open your eyes in the morning, it'll turn out he's nothing but a fever dream after all. Or a hallucination. Maybe you're crazy.

"Alright, we got it!", Jody shouts, pulls you from your thoughts - from the way you'd been ogling him - and drags you back to reality. You hadn't even realised you'd started chewing on your lip. "Great shot, really, well done, we're gonna take a break before we shoot the next scene!"

The word break echoes in your mind like a fucking hallelujah. With a start, you rush towards Tom, almost stumbling over your own two feet as you grab his water bottle and hold it out for him.

"Here", you breathe, hoping, praying you don't look as debauched as you feel. Then again, you've sweated through the few layers you're wearing, so you probably do.

"Thanks, love", he smiles, reaches for the bottle and takes a sip. Then he looks you down. And up. And down. And up again. And your hoping, your praying crumbles right down to nothing, because he gives you that very stare you'd been dreading, the one that shoots like x-rays through your body and lays you bare for him. "You feeling good? You look hot."

Fuck, you are hot. Just not because of the blaring sun.

"I'm fine", you lie, even though you can feel your cheeks warm further. Just watching him close up on a screen is already enough to get you wet, but to have him this close up? That's even worse. "Just the temperature, I guess."

You shrug for good measure, but he still doesn't seem all that convinced. He eyes you once more, trailing his gaze down your body, then up again. It's hard to keep upright at this point. God, that outfit he's wearing really does something to you.

"Do you want to eat?", you blurt out, anything to get him to stop scrutinizing you. And to actually do your job. "I could get something from the buffet, take it to the trailer or-"

"I could eat", he interrupts, the corners of his lips tugging up. His sudden grin distracts you. Mindlessly, you nod along.

"Sure, I'll find something you like", you mutter, ready to turn and plunder the buffet table when his hand closes around your arm. Your heels all but dig into the sand below. He really has too much of an effect on you. You could easily slip out of his grip if you wanted, and yet you're frozen in place.

"You know what I'd like right now, baby?", he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he takes a step closer. Fuck, he's so handsome. "You."

Barely three minutes later, he's got you pressed against the inside of the trailer door, cold metal against scorching skin as you try to catch your breath. You're panting, cheeks surely flashing red, and you'd like to blame that on the sun, on the sand, on the desert - but it's him, it's him, only him. It's him and that goddamn space cowboy outfit they'd put him in.

"Tom", you breathe, your fingers cramped around the collar of his shirt, clenched so tightly that your knuckles have turned white. He's real, he must be. You just can't quite figure out how.

"You good?", he asks, his voice deeper and a little breathy around the edges.

"No", you chuckle truthfully, your fingertips dipping beneath his collar and brushing over his skin instead. Your eyes drag right after them, drinking in the bit of bare chest his costume exposes. And that fucking golden necklace, just dangling from his neck like it's not driving you fucking insane.

"Still because of the heat, baby?", he asks, grinning widely when your eyes flicker back up at his face. His tone borders on mocking. Goddamn.

You should have known.

You should have known that he knows.

Because of course he knows. Of course he'd realised that you'd been fidgety and hot and bothered for entirely different reasons than the rest of the crew. Not because of the sun and sand and desert, but because of him. Because of him and that outfit.

"No", you admit quietly, your eyes dropping back down to his necklace as your fingers work open the first buckle of his vest. There's no way you could possibly lie to him when he's got you this close. "Not because of the heat."

It's honestly a miracle that you can even talk while you're undoing his clothes.

"Oh?", he asks, his hands tightening on your waist as you open his vest and rest your palms against his button-up for just a moment. "Because of what, then?"

You bite down on your lip to keep your grin at bay, even as his thumbs sneak below the hem of your shirt. His fingers graze your skin and, as if he hadn't already done enough to you, shoot sparks right down to your core.

"You", you mutter truthfully, drag your palms up to his collar again and begin loosening the buttons of his shirt. You want your hands on him. You want to finally touch him. You're basically melting for him, melting into him, and you want to get that shirt open now. "And this fucking costume. Space cowboy, who had that idea, anyway?"

Tom chuckles at your sudden honesty.

"Jody", he says, all matter-of-factly as you scoff at him and pop open one button after the other. By now, you can feel yourself dripping down your thighs. You're not sure whether it's sweat or not - you're just sure that you need to touch him and him to touch you. Now. Or you'll end up a puddle on the floor.

"Fucking cheers to Jody", you mutter, tearing his shirt open, steadying your palms against his bare, so very, very bare skin and taking a deep, deep breath in. Fuck. He's gorgeous. Drop-dead fucking gorgeous. All abs and hard muscles, warm and sweaty against your fingertips, so enticing, so inviting. You run your hands up, then down his torso, slowly enough to take in every inch you can touch. You could do this for the rest of your life.

"Didn't think you'd be so into it, baby", he murmurs, his fingers dragging fully beneath your shirt now and trailing over your stomach. Usually, he's got you naked and begging within seconds - but he always does like it just a little too much when you marvel at him this openly. It's an ego boost he doesn't need.

"Fuck, I'm into you", you whisper, your eyes catching on his necklace again. O-fucking-kay. So it's definitely not just him. As if in reflex, your finger hooks into the chain dangling from his neck. God, you've been waiting to do that ever since you'd seen him in this damned outfit for the first time. "But the cowboy hat has its effect."

Tom grins and grabs at your waist, pushes you firmly against the door and fuck, he's hard, he's-

"Just the hat?", he asks as your finger tightens around his necklace, as you tug. Tug him right into you, tug him so close that you can feel his breath on your lips.

"No", you smile, your eyes fluttering shut. "Not just the hat."

And then you pull him in and kiss him.

He's pressed against you, his shirt open, his hands on your waist, and he's all but crowding you against the door. His beard scratches against your skin in such a heavenly way you can hardly keep from pushing back against him. He really shouldn't be such a good kisser, not when he's also that good-looking, that talented, that famous, and that rich. He's truly got it all. And you can't do anything but melt into his arms, melt against his body, melt... quite literally.

"Tom", you moan, barely above a breath as you pull at his necklace and drag your free hand down, down, down to his waistband. Your fingertips catch on the button of his pants. "Fuck me."

He's just pulling his arms away from your waist and grabbing for your thighs, grabbing to wrap your legs around him when there's a sharp knock at the trailer door. You startle so badly you flinch and so does he, stumbling further into the trailer, knocking against each other, tripping over each other, steadying yourselves in just the right moment before the door opens.

Gail.

Standing in the bright light of the sun, her sunglasses high on her nose, her expression nothing short of frantic, one hand on the doorknob and the other curled like she's trying to strangle the fucking air.

"Ryder", she seethes, then pauses and takes a deep breath. You're so shocked you can't do anything but stare at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Take off your fucking mic before you hook up with your girlfriend."

Tom scrambles to pull out the tiny, fuzzy microphone stuck to his vest. He holds it in his hands for one, two seconds, his eyes wide as he stares at it - then he chucks it at Gail, who doesn't even make a move to catch it before it lands on the ground.

Embarassment shoots through your veins, glues you into spot and if you hadn't been flushed, sweaty and trembling already, you surely would be now.

Holy fucking shit.

Tom had been wearing his mic.

He'd been wearing his fucking mic during all of this.

The entire fucking crew had listened in on you and him making out.

Gail turns around and lets the door fall shut, one deafening thump of metal against metal that tears you from your spiralling mind and hurls you straight back to reality.

"Tom", you gasp, balling your hand into a fist and hitting him right in the chest with it. "You didn't take off your fucking mic?"

He doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic as he shrugs. No, there's already a grin licking at his lips again, a grin that tells you he's neither embarrassed nor going to remember taking his mic off the next time.

"I had so much more important things to think about", he chuckles, wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close again.

He's still half-naked.

You feel your breath hitch.

"Tom", you mutter, your fist resting against his chest. He can't be fucking serious. He cannot be fucking serious. You're burning with embarrassment, petrified with shock - and he's already pulling you in again, his palms rubbing into your back. "You horny bastard."

He's already pressed his lips to yours before you can finish, and despite yourself, you have to grin.

"Promise you'll take your mic off next time", you mumble into him, then you're throwing your arms around his neck and pushing into him.

He's a lost cause. You know that. But it never hurts to try.

[twins-write]

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[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 1

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. This is the story of how he's first introduced to Colt's sister, Parker. Let's just say that neither party was all that impressed.

read the story here: next

Tom Ryder was hot.

The ads plastered on bus terminals and billboards, with all of their post-photoshoot/pre-production editing and touch-ups, weren't shit compared to the real thing.

The real thing, standing fifty feet across from her having just finished talking through his upcoming scene with the production team was tall and hunky and had gel wet tufts of blonde hair perfectly strung across his forehead. He walked—swaggered—with a sureness that was hard to find nowadays; made all the more impressive when he was swarmed by makeup artists touching up the foundation on his cheeks without stumbling once.

The outfit didn't help either. She hadn't seen Colt yet, but she was confident that her brother wouldn't be caught dead wearing tight, white pants that clung to his every curve, indent, and muscle like Ryder was. He wore them slung low on his hips, perfectly hard abs trailing down towards the sliver of white skin peeking out from beneath an underwear brand she would never be able to afford. Some sort of aloofness—or, perhaps, a love for his own toned body—had his shirt strung over his shoulder as if it were a mere accessory and not something to cover his chest.

Even his eyes were bright, star-inducing, and captivating in the way romance novels often described Fabio.

And... god damn.

Parker had to remind herself to swallow, breathe, and close her mouth before the proverbial flies started swan diving inside.

She liked to think of herself as both professional and not a total creep. She didn't have a problem keeping her eyes to herself at the gym, at the park, at the pool. Blonde men weren't even her type. Actors much less so.

A movie star? The movie star? Please.

Parker would relentlessly tease her brother when he would get all flustered staring at the poster of Cindy Crawford on the wall of his childhood bedroom. She was just a woman, after all.

But now...

Christ, how was it so hot at six am?

She brushed some hair off of her forehead while fiddling with the flimsy label on her water bottle; trying, and failing to pretend that she hadn't just been ogling the lead actor like a starving dog staring at a hambone. People milled around her as she breathed, Venti offering a wave as she hurried off to her next location.

But then there was a wayward bee she had to swat away, pulling her gaze right back up to where it had been, and this time she found that he was the one staring at her.

Static hummed in the back of her mind; no thoughts.

Just Tom Ryder.

Tom Ryder looking delectable in his lack of clothing.

Tom Ryder gazing at her with eyes so blue she suspected he had to be wearing some sort of fake contacts.

Tom Ryder who now was opening his mouth, showing off the teeniest glimpse of dimples, a row of pearly white teeth (where those real?), clearing his throat to say—

"I've been waiting on my coffee for ten minutes now. What the hell is the hold-up?"

Static.

"Huh?" she asked dumbly.

He rolled his eyes, squaring his shoulders at her as he slumped inelegantly into what had previously been her seat.

"My usual. Flat white, nonfat milk, three shots of espresso, with no foam. Extra hot, of course," he recited in a deadpan. It wasn't a polite sort of thing, though, and as she continued to stare at him Parker watched as he swatted away the same bee that had been bothering her with a huff.

As if—how dare a bee bother someone like me!

"Um," she started. Then, when she realized that she wasn't speaking real words, Parker quickly tuned her brain back to a channel that wasn't just static. This channel concentrated around the disbelief at his attitude. "Excuse me?"

He was on his phone now—she wasn't sure where he had conjured it from considering how desperately tight his pants where—and without even looking up he scoffed. "I have a scene in twenty, and I need to have time between drinking my coffee and acting so I'm not all jittery. Honestly, it's not that hard."

Parker blinked at him, then in the general area around them. For a moment she expected a bunch of cameras to be shoved in her face—ha ha! you've been punk'd!—but no one popped out of any bushes. In fact, it seemed that the moment Ryder approached her the surrounding vicinity had emptied.

A pair of assistants across the way caught her eye, immediately went pale in the face, and quickly ducked in the opposite direction as if they had forgotten some important task.

She didn't know what to say, or how to say it, and so Parker just settled with an emphatic scoff. "No."

To that, Tom paused in his texting, and glanced up at her. This time, he was the one that looked bewildered. "What?"

"I said, no," she repeated a bit firmer this time. It felt a bit like sailing, though, and now that she had some wind beneath her sails she found her thoughts functioning once more. "Find someone else to get your cappuccino. Or, better yet, do it yourself."

His eyebrows furrowed crossly. "It was a flat white."

"Fucking great," she snarked, throwing her arms up at him because she didn't quite know what else to do. "There's a Starbucks right over there."

Tom's entire face scrunched up. Ironically, it wasn't an attractive look on him, and suddenly Parker was wondering if all the photo editing was necessary if that's what he normally looked like.

Arrogance was not a good look on anyone. No matter how tight the pants.

"It's your job."

"It's absolutely not," she snapped. He responded by straightening in his (her) seat, phone cast aside, but she cut him off before he could say anything else as equally ridiculous. "And, for the record, if someone ever talked to me like that at my real job, I would quit on the spot."

His features slackened in response.

Parker half wondered if he was hearing static now.

There was the sound of a bullhorn on the far side of the parking lot, and a whole train of people slowly started swarming the area as whatever scene they were filming ended. A pair of stuntmen ambled by, followed by some camera crew, and on the far edge of everything she saw a familiar head of hair step out of a truck.

Familiar as it was identical to the man sitting in front of her.

Not having anything else to say and not trusting herself not to get escorted off the premises for verbally berating the star actor, Parker just snatched her jacket out from behind him with a pointed glare before heading towards where she had last spotted Colt.

It took a bit of effort to dodge all of the people, equipment, and vehicles.

"Uh, hey!" he called after her. Just the sound of his voice seemed to scare some nearby crew into pretending they were busy, and Parker bit the inside of her cheek when she heard his sneakers scrambling after her. "Who do you think you are?"

"Who do you think you are?" she scoffed.

He appeared at her elbow, ducking at the last minute to avoid walking directly into a wooden panel that was being hefted by two burly men. "I'm Tom Ryder."

Bleh.

Parker almost gagged. "Jesus Christ. You can't be serious?"

"Are you—? Of course I'm serious. I am Tom Ryder!"

"That was a rhetorical question," she deadpanned. Something red and embarrassed colored his cheeks. Parker may have taken sympathy on him if he didn't immediately power through the feeling to glare at her. "Just because you're Tom Ryder doesn't mean you get to be an ass to people. Employees or not."

They paused in their argument as a full length mirror was carted in front of them, and with the tug of an elbow she didn't have a choice but to face him.

"I'm not an asshole," he stressed. Though, his tone and glare counteracted the statement no matter how much emphasis he put into it.

Parker rolled her eyes, pleased when the mirror moved past, and elected not to respond at all as she continued on her way. He followed with another, sharper scoff.

"I'm not!"

"No, you're just waiting on your cappuccino, right?" she retorted before squeezing between two tightly parked trailers.

"It was a flat white!" he called after her.

Parker waved a hand flippantly over her shoulder, happy that she had finally managed to shake him, before she was popping out on the opposite side. It was much less crowded here. Just a few assistants, some guys with sound equipment, and her brother chatting a little bit too closely with a pretty blonde woman.

When they didn't notice her approach she had to clear her throat.

The pair jumped apart. The woman, with a red blush on her cheeks, smoothed out her hair with a nervous smile. Colt, on the other hand, greeted Parker with his stereotypical 'no-thoughts-behind-those-eyes' grin.

"Hey, there you are. I was worried you got lost or something."

"Once or twice, but Venti was nice enough to keep me company while we waited for you to come back. Here's your phone," she handed over the device with a half-hearted tut. "Next time don't leave it at home when you have to be on set at a quarter to dawn."

Colt faked a wince. "Sorry. Thanks for bringing it."

Parker waved him off. It wasn't the first time that her brother had forgotten something important, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time. The woman he had been canoodling with was far more interesting a subject this early in the day.

"Hi," she said, sticking her hand out. "I'm Parker."

The blonde responded with a warm smile and a firm hand shake.

Pretty, she thought. Then with a glance at her brother the snarky voice added, too pretty for this idiot.

"Jody. You're Colt's sister?"

"Ah, that's what Mom and Dad told her," Colt joked, leaning towards Jody to add in a stage whisper. "Truthfully, they found her in a parking lot. Just crying in a cardboard box, covered in shit. Tragic, you know. But what can you do? The orphanage wasn't accepting anymore walk-ins so they just had to keep her."

Parker smacked him on the back of the head while Jody laughed.

"Hey, take it easy, Park. I think I still have a concussion from this morning's barrel roll," he whined while subtly rubbing a sore spot on his neck. He was covered in sand and fake glass, and Jody took a moment to brush it out of his hair. He was utterly pleased to have her touching him. Suddenly, the wounded look didn't feel so genuine. "My insurance doesn't cover domestic violence, you know."

"Does it cover domestic kissing?" she asked with a devious waggle of the eyebrows.

Jody immediately turned pink.

"You can leave now, Park," Colt deadpanned. He waved his phone at her pointedly. "Thanks for the delivery and everything, uh, see you at Christmas, have fun with whatever it is you spend your days doing—"

Parker swatted his hands away as he tried to usher her in the direction she had come. He whined at that as well—blowing air on his bruised and bloodied knuckles—while she slipped under his elbow to shoulder right up next to Jody.

"Want to get drinks?" she asked.

Jody blinked. First at Parker, then to Colt. "Er... right now?"

"After your shift. I have an over abundance of limes and mint at the moment thanks to my roommate. I could make us some mojitos. Share some childhood stories about Colt, maybe show you some high school yearbook pictures. He had a bowl cut until his twenties, you know."

"No, no, no," Colt intervened with a nervous chuckle. His bruised knuckles didn't seem to mind manhandling her by the neck as he tugged her away from Jody. "That's not—bowl cuts were cool here in America, but, uh... You don't need to talk to her, okay. Just ignore her, Jody. There's no need to take pity on her just because she was abandoned in a Walmart parking lot."

"Oh, it's Walmart now, is it?" she chirped while struggling in his hold. Jody bit her lip to hold in her laugh. "Last time it was Target. The time before that it was a Ralph Lauren."

"It's going to be a retirement home if you don't—"

"I love mojitos," Jody chimed in much to Parker's delight.

She grinned while Colt pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat.

"You really don't have to," he tried.

"I want to."

"Are you sure? Like sure sure. Because she was arrested once for stalking, you know. And lying. She's a big ole liar, this one."

"Oh," Jody giggled with a sparkle in her eye, "I'm very sure."

"Because—"

Colt and Jody's joking was cut off when Tom Ryder—gone, but not forgotten—appeared with a huff. He still didn't have his coffee, and it looked like the lack of caffeine wasn't helping his mood in the slightest. At the very least he was now wearing his shirt. "Is she bothering you, too? Do I need to call security?"

The three froze.

Colt swung his head between Ryder and his sister (who he now had in a head lock) while his eyes grew to cartoonish proportions.

"She bothered you?" he asked in a high-pitched voice. Parker pinched the sensitive spot on his hip when he squeezed her with his elbow, and Tom's eyebrows drifted all the way up his forehead when Colt let out an embarrassingly girlish squeal. Her brother did his best to save face by clearing his throat. "I, uh, I thought I told you not to talk to anyone, Park? Or bother anyone? Or do anything other than sit and wait for me!"

"I was waiting for you."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, nothing. That's rich," he hissed down at her before planting a big smile on his face. As if he wasn't currently talking around the woman he had in a chokehold. "Sorry, Tom. She was just dropping something off for me. I told her to mind her own business, but she's never been all that good at doing what she was told. I'm pretty sure she should be in a med ward right now. Insomnia, pill addiction, the works. Nothing she says should be taken for granted. You know, one time she broke into a—"

"Okay, that's it," she sighed.

Then promptly elbowed her brother in the balls. Colt didn't have any air in his lungs to squeal, but they all watched him pitch forward with a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a gag.

She shot him a purely unimpressed look before straightening up, fixing her hair, and announcing, "I wasn't bothering him. I was minding my own business. He was bothering me."

Tom's jaw slackened in disbelief. "You called me an asshole!"

"You were being an asshole!"

"I'm Tom Ryder. I'm allowed to be an asshole if I want!"

Parker smirked. "Oh, so you admit it then. You were being an asshole."

He stuttered, unsure of how to respond to that, while Colt propped a finger in the air between them. He was still bent over in pain, breathing through his nose, as he added in a breathy voice, "you can be an asshole if you want."

The placation did nothing, and Tom's eyes bugged wide in disbelief as he shouted, "I wasn't being an asshole!"

The crewmen milling about all paused to glance at Tom; an assistant started yelling into her headset in the interim. Embarrassed, Tom took a few deep breaths while running a hand through his hair. Parker hated how easily his locks fell into perfect curls on his forehead. Effortless.

Hot.

Ugh! She really hated men.

There was a noise halfway between a giggle and a cough, and Parker peeked over her shoulder to find Jody smothering her amusement at the situation behind her hand. Her eyes still sparkled, though, and Parker was sure right then and there that she would get along just fine with Colt's new lady friend.

When Tom glanced at her, however, she pretended to swat away a bug with an innocent wide-eyed look.

"Sorry," she cleared her throat as professionally as she could manage. "There was a... fly."

Colt found his voice—and breath by then—and as he straightened to his full height he put on his best serious looking face. "Listen, man, I'm sorry about my sister. She's not even supposed to be here. I just forgot something at home and—"

"She's your sister?"

Colt hemmed and hawed. "Well, you know, not technically. There was this whole box-at-a-Walmart type situation but—we don't have to get into it," he waved a hand flippantly when he caught the bewildered furrow of Tom's eyebrows. "She was just about to leave. You'll never have to see her again. Who knows? Maybe she'll die of loneliness or something. Crazier things have happened."

Parker rolled her eyes at her brother's blatant ass kissing. It was pathetic, and a little bit embarrassing.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Tom said as he stared at her. There was a new light in his eyes; enlightened, maybe. Suspicious, definitely. Parker crossed her arms with a petulant huff through her nose. "I thought you were, like, an orphan."

"Why would you...?" Colt started, before shaking away the thought. "Nope. I got parents. And a sister. Obviously. A sister that was just about to leave. Right, Parker?"

She definitely could have hung around a little longer if she felt like being a right pain in the ass, but it wasn't even seven am, she had yet to eat breakfast, and she was getting a headache from being around someone that was so incredibly hot yet so incredibly awful. It was like her brain didn't know how to compute every time she looked at him.

Parker conceded with a sigh. "Yeah, I was just leaving."

"See?" he smiled. "She was just leaving."

She ignored her brother's pestering to smile at Jody. "It was nice meeting you. You can get my number from Colt, and I'll text you my address."

Despite the attention of Tom and Colt, Jody managed a genuine smile. "Brills. I'll see you later then. Assuming you don't die of loneliness between now and then."

Parker snorted. Jody giggled. Colt was still breathing steadily through his nose and trying not to puke.

"You can come too, dipwad," she reminded him tartly. Beside him Tom crossed one arm over the other with a sour look. She doubted he liked being talked over and not to, as well as having been called an asshole three times in a single conversation. To him she gave a pretty flap of the eyes. "You're not invited."

He ground his jaw at her, but she could see the flicker of annoyance to not be included in this little get together. "I'd rather eat dirt."

"You might have to if your coffee takes any longer," she chirped in response. Parker stuck around long enough for him to realize she was goading him before turning to leave. She waggled her fingers at him on her way past. "Break a leg!"

She was feeling pretty good about herself as she headed off in the direction that she had come from. There were even more people milling about now that the new scene was about to start. And just as she ducked past a truck of equipment, there was a shrill call of, "I have a flat white for Mr. Ryder!'

Parker peeked back just in time to watch him burn his tongue on the coffee.

Extra hot, indeed.

...............

The Fall Guy was one of the best movies I've seen in a while! As an OG Aaron Taylor-Johnson fangirl, I had to write this blurb just to get the itch out of my brain. No idea if I will transition this into something more or not. For now, please enjoy my brain itchiness and ATJ.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Fuck Tom and Storms

Requested by: @ten-cent-sleuth

I really hope you enjoy it and like it !!!

Hey! :D If I’m allowed to send more than one emoji, maybe ⚡️, 🐾, and 💪? Ofc they can all be different ficlets if you’d prefer. Or just pick your favourite from those three! :)

(Write for whoever you feel like, seriously!! But if having a specific character would help you focus an idea, maybe Colt or Scola to give ’em some love? ;P)

Colt X Reader 

Tom Ryder was the worst name you could ever hear right now and for the rest of your entire life. It was a name most people worshiped but to those who knew him it was a name that made you throw up in disgust. 

If it wasn’t one issue it was another and the topic of today’s issue was that the sun was to hot for him to work and he needed to rest in his trailer.

It was like everyone was to afraid to say something. Which you understood to because the second they did they risked loosing their jobs. 

But you were the 2nd Asst Director and you were loosing your mind because the main director was out for the day so it all rested on your shoulders. And are you all ready for the worst of it. 

There was a giant thunderstorm that was supposed to be coming in and it was a bad one.

The crew was on edge about going home, you couldn’t not get the shot or your would loose the permit to shoot on location. 

Colt was looking over at you and he could tell you were about to have a mental breakdown. 

The look on your face said that no one dare approach you or they would loose their heads. 

So colt walked over carefully and slowly.

It was a like it’s own movie scene where the FBI guy was trying to diffuse a bomb with only seconds left keeping you on the edge of anticipation. 

You were currently just staring off into the abyss not really looking at anyone or anything just trying to rack your brain on  the best solution. 

Which would be A.) Force Tom to come out of his trailer with violence or B.) cancel the whole thing and deal with it later. 

Neither one was the ideal situation. It’s like no matter what you picked you knew you were fucked. 

You were so into your thoughts you didn’t even notice that Colt had creeped up on you and was currently standing next to you just reading your face with his eyes. 

“Hey Pumpkin how you doing” Colt said in a sweet flirty voice 

You didn’t even hear him at first, way too invested in your own thoughts to even acknowledge him. 

“Muffin of love will you please look at me” Colt said a little louder and shaking you so you would pay attention. 

“What” You yelled loudly scared to death.

“Well we have a couple of issues we need to talk about.” He said 

You just kind of looked at him dumbfounded like did he come all this way to speak the obvious to you. 

He looked at you nervous and like he was deciding on what his next words to you would be

“Alright Pumpkin pie we got news the storm is now closer than ever so we have no choice but to execute.” He said in a soft voice to ease the tension. 

You just felt devastated i mean this was supposed to be your chance to shine and show what you could do and of course Tom just had to take it away from you. 

You just took the moment  to gather yourself and get up and admit defeat. It was hard because you didn’t want to look weak in the moment. 

“Come on” Colt said in a soft tone. 

You got up from your chair and as you did you began to notice the world around you again. It was getting dark and the thunder had started and everyone began taking shelter. 

You immediately looked over at Colt and you could see the worried look on his face. And let me stop you all right there. Colt was not worried about you and everyone's safety like the big bag stuntman he was. 

Or the one he pretended to be. He was worried because he was scared of the storms and inside he was a big baby. Though you thought it was really sweet and one of the reasons why you loved him so much. 

“Hey it’s gonna be okay let’s go to our trailer” You said.

You grabbed his hand and tried to guide him and then like perfect timing the rain had started. It was like the giant of a man just froze. 

“Hey Sugar plum let’s go” You said a little louder trying to get his attention. 

He wasn’t moving and it was starting to pick up and get a little worse so you weren’t sure what to do you couldn’t just leave him there scared. 

And at this point you weren’t sure what you were thinking but it felt like it was the only thing that was sane enough for you to do. 

You bent down and attempted to pick the man up bridal style. Like legit sweep him off his feet.

And yes if you all are wondering it was bad as you imagined. He didn’t even lift up a tiny but nit a half of half inch. 

But it did work on getting his attention because he snapped down and looked at you and he broke out in a laugh but also a very confused look. 

“May i help you” Was all he could get out in between laughs. 

“Yeah you can I’m soaked and i would like to leave before tornado comes up and sweeps me away” You said

He just started laughing and he reached down and picked you up bridal style and he ran to the shared trailer. 

He put you back down and you both couldn’t help but just laugh together. You walked over to him and pulled his wet shirt off of him. His abs were to die for and he knew it too. 

He walked over to you and he returned the favor. And the he cupped your face with his hands and he kissed you hard. 

Then he quickly broke the kiss and he bent down to whisper in your ear

“I was never scared I was helping you” He said.

You backed away and looked offended at him. 

“Help me how did that possibly help me” You said in a angrier tone. 

“I know you needed the win” He said. 

“How did that give me a win” you said. 

“You got to be in charge make a choice get some of that energy out you know” he said shrugging his shoulders. 

“I made zero decisions besides force you to come inside and we didn’t even get the shoot. Tom that fucker got what he wanted again and he ruinied the day for us and as soon as this storm passes I’m going over there telling him off and forcing him to work late so we can finish.” You yelled. 

“There we go that’s what we needed” Colt said.

And as soon as he said that it clicked he knew you just needed to get the anger out and work up the courage. 

Colt walked over and gave you a soft smile 

“Come on let’s get out of these clothes and lay down” Colt said 

And as soon as he said that thunder cracked again and we saw a big flash of lighting. Which honestly made us both Jump. 

“Fine but keep it professional we are at work” You said with a cheeky smile. 

Colt groaned annoyed really loud and then threw his head down and walked away. You sat for a moment watching him change to a fresh pair of jeans and hey you never said you couldn’t look. 

Colt looked over and noticed you were looking 

“Hey my eyes are up here remember” He said 

“I know I just like show” You said before trotting off and changing. 

Colt laid out on the bed and you crawled next to him pulling him on to you so his head was resting on your chest. He wrapped his legs around you. 

“It’s okay i got you the big bad thunderstorm won’t get you” You said.

“At least we know your protect me” Colt said laughing.

“For now until the movie is over then your on your own and the Miami Jacket is mine” You said smiling.

“Over my dead body” Colt said in a serious tone. 

“What ever pookie we do live in LA” You said smiling.

You were feeling better knowing that at least the day wasn't going to completely ruined and Tom was going to have his Karma.

[allaroundjejje]

Couple of Fruits and Space Cowboy

Part 4

Tangerine had disliked Tom Ryder ever since Lemon had made him watch a movie where Tom was portraying an assasin, according to Tangerine, in a less than believable way.

The brothers watched the situation from a far up on the mezzanine level. Tangerine couldn't help but focus on the woman standing next to the arrogant actor. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at some crude comment from a crew member. Something about this didn't sit well with him.

So he decided to go off plan and made his way into the empty office on the mezzanine level, which housed a door leading to a staircase on the outside, as quietly as possible. "Where the fuck are you going?" Lemon whispered angrily at his Gordon of a brother.

Not liking the way the crew treated the woman Tangerine made his way into the warehouse. "I'm here for the money," he pointed to the designer bags full of cash. "and as of now the girl" he continued with a smirk. "Oh, come on bruv" Lemon sighed to himself.

A huge fight broke out. Tangerine suffered a few cuts and grazes, nothing major. Lemon was a bit woozy from a blow to the head by a plank of wood. Tom got of basically scot-free and the woman who was with him hurt her left leg pretty badly. They had taken out the drug lord along with every single crew member when a car approached the back of the warehouse.

"Better ger tickety-boo" Tangerine said as he picked up the woman and carried her over his shoulder. She reached for the gun holstered on his lower back and fired a shot. He swung around to see a crew member falling down. "Nice shot, love".

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part five

Part six

Part seven

Part eight

[lost-pen-name]

I’m working on a longgg one shot and it’s almost done. 🙈 (It’s 4k currently and I’m still not done, whoops)

Hint: it’s another Tom Ryder x fem!reader one. (Because I’m obsessed with Tom.)

And here’s a little sneak peek because why not:

You don’t know how long you sat there, getting soaked to the bone by the rain and trembling from the cold, before you heard hurried footsteps on the pavement. They stopped close to you.

“Gosh, what are you doing out here?”

Your heart froze at that familiar tone. That casual, drawling voice you’d started to almost enjoy listening to even when that voice said stupid things and couldn’t hold his tongue.

You lifted your head, not caring that your makeup was a mess and you had tears and snot running down your face. Who really cares at this point?

Tom stood before you, his hair wet and clinging to his face. His clothes were soaked through and clung to his body in all the right places.

Of course he’d look stunning and you’d look like a drowned cat.

[rudikawhy]

I watched The Fall Guy yesterday...

... and I would again without hesitation. At first I wanted to see it because of Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt, but as soon as the movie started, I knew I would love it, no matter the actors (though Ryan and Emily made it even better).

[The following will probably contain spoilers]

The shots, the cuts, the way they talked, the way it was built, just the whole vibe the movie was giving me within the first few minutes was perfect. I would have guessed that it was a funny movie, but for some reason I didn't expect it to be that funny. I laughed so much. It felt so good. And the best part: I didn't care if I was the only one laughing or not.

I loved every second of it. Most of it was funny, or action, that I couldn't take too seriously (like, I wasn't 'afraid' something bad would happen, for some reason not even when Jody kept on letting Colt set on fire), but then when it came to "real action", when it came to the part with Tom Ryder and his other stuntman, it actually also got thrilling for me. I even believed for a good minute or so that Colt actually died (well, I actually didn't allowed myself to believe he survived, so I wouldn't be too sad if he didn't).

Okay and next up, the unicorn. No matter how many times it appeared, it was still funny. And I believe it would've still be funny if it went on further for a little bit more. No seriously, it was so random, and it wasn't constantly there it just kept appearing. Until it didn't. Bye Bye unicorn.

Then: when the CCTV footage showed Colt leaving the hotel room of the dead stuntman and he covered his face with his jacket as soon as he spots the camera - funny. Though I probably laughed too hard.

The split screen talk. I mean the phone call as such was really nice, and a nice change from all the action. They started it as a business call, and went over to a personal conversation. And the split screen added comedy. I can't really say what made it so funny; that they talked about using a split screen while using one, or that they were mirroring each other's actions. Anyway.

Taylor Swift. I felt that so much. Not actually because I was never in a situation like that, like Colt was, but the look on his face when he started the car and All Too Well started playing? That was so true. Also I heard that was actually Ryan crying because he didn't know they were already filming. I love that even more. And that montage of Jody and Colt during All Too Well was just so sweet and beautiful, and then it's cut back to Colt in the car and he is crying. Give that man a hug, please.

Emily sure can sing. Just saying. That karaoke song/performance was beautiful.

Okay and now last but not least. Can I just say how good both Emily and Ryan looked in this movie? Even when Ryan was covered in blood stains. He was still looking so good. And Emily anyway.

Also now I kind of want to see Emily Blunt with Tom Cruise's face. But on the other hand I don't because that's probably disturbing.

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: The Fall Guy

When's the last time you saw a film that was just fun? A film that's devoid of all political messaging, agenda bias and was just plain, good old fashioned fun from beginning to end. It has truly been a while where a film like that has existed and especially in the action / romantic comedy genres. This film brings that feeling back with a bang in every conceivable way and I was here for it. I never saw the original 1980's series it was based on, but I do appreciate real stunt work and when it is recognized by the masses. Like Tropic Thunder, this film has the fun and hilarious idea of showing you the inner workings of the film industry while highlighting the unsung heroes of cinema, the stunt men and women. Not only does this film feature some excellent action and stunt work, but it features a truly funny and heartwarming love story that is predictable at times, but still manages to be fresh and classical. Fortunately, this film features a cast that has brilliant chemistry to bring it all home.

Ryan Gosling was fantastic and hilarious as the awkward, charming and fun seasoned stuntman Cole Seavers. Not only did he take so many hits and look great in action, but his trademark charm and comedic timing is on full display. Its always fun to see a character's arc of remembering his self worth and what gave him purpose in life. Cole goes through that arc in a sometimes dark, but always in a fun and energetic way. Emily Blunt was fantastic as his former lover and now film director, Jody Moreno. Their chemistry never stopped being magnetic from the opening scene to the bombastic finale. You really feel the connection they had and the heartbreak between them. The best scene between them was during her direction of fiery action shot that brilliantly brought out the painful conversation that usually happens in a coffee shop or side street in other films like this. Jody gets in on the action as well and Emily shows off her often forgotten stunt capabilities. Winston Duke was awesome as Cole's bestfriend and stunt coordinator, Dan Tucker. He was truly having the time of his life in his fight scenes and of course the execution of the stunt sequences "on set". Hannah Waddingham was great and very manic as the film producer, Gail Meyer. She really nailed the always reassuring and manipulative on set producer that has a metric ton of caffeine running through her veins. Aaron Taylor-Johnson was good as the “movie star” that Cole doubles for, Tom Ryder. As Tom, he nailed that typical and over the top version of a movie star that lives the party life and never takes responsibility for his actions. Johnson was hilarious in a good number of moments and a bit sinister in others. Stephanie Hsu was good as Tom's assistant, Alma Milan and I liked that she wasn't helpless during a particular scene.

Composer Dominic Lewis brings the film to life in an epic, poppy and fun spirited way. I loved the many different variations of the classic "I Was Made For Lovin' You Baby" by KISS. Yungblud's version was raspy, full of soul and plays in a perfect moment of the film. I truly love when stunts are showcased in frame and are not cheapened with shakey cam and this film truly showcases stunts and action beautifully. There is a scene that felt like the finale of an amazing stunt show that I would totally pay to go see. This film was a love letter to the stunt performers in the film industry around the world and I had so much fun watching them work. This was definitely the best way to start the summer film season and one of my favorite films of the year. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[theatrekidstatus]

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[moviemunchies]

I had originally planned for this review to be Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, but I heard that The Fall Guy was very good, and wasn’t doing as well in the box office. I wanted to give it a shot.

And I’m glad that I did.

The Fall Guy tells the story of Colt Seavers, a stuntman for a movie star named Tom Ryder. After a stunt accident, his career and relationship with camerawoman Jody Moreno fell apart. Eighteen months later, Jody is a director of a science-fiction epic starring Ryder, and Colt is called out of retirement to be his stuntman. One problem: Tom Ryder has gone missing, and his producer Gail wants Colt to go find him. This leads to a series of misadventures in which Colt’s skills as a stuntman come in handy, while he’s desperately trying to reconnect with Jody.

Disclaimer: I am unfamiliar with the original Fall Guy. I know next to nothing about the 1980’s series, other than that it is A Thing That Exists, and it gets a shoutout in this movie. If there is something about it that would shape this review, or change one’s opinion of the movie significantly, I apologize. I don’t have that knowledge.

Great news, though: The Fall Guy is a really fun movie. You don’t need to know anything about the television series to understand or enjoy this film. It’s got pretty much everything that you could want in a movie: action, humor, romance, explosions, and likable characters. It’s one of those rare movies that I feel like I can recommend to almost anyone I know because it’s that well-rounded of a film. It’s not an epic or franchise film, it’s a standalone that has a lot of fun with its premise, and I really like that.

The leads have great chemistry! I’ve talked about how easily romance storylines can go badly in films and television–that you have two characters who get and stay together because they’re played by two attractive actors, and that’s it. Here, while you don’t necessarily know how Colt and Jody got together, as they started dating before the film starts, but they have enough chemistry and good dialogue that they’re a believable couple that you can root for as the story goes on.

This film is a love letter to stunt performers. They’ve long been a part of the movies that the industry could not do without, and yet they’re not recognized in awards shows, nor are they generally acknowledged by the audiences that line up to see the movies that they’re in. In many cases, they’re doing all the work that big-name actors get credit for, and risking their lives in the process. Honestly, guys, stuntmen and women should be getting all the props, and I like that this movie is about them.

I also think there’s a ton of interesting things you can read into the relationship between Colt and Ryder, though I don’t know if it’s necessarily meant to evoke specific examples (though TV Tropes thinks so, under “Take That!”).

There are also plenty of in-jokes about the making of movies, especially big blockbuster epics. The process of making the movie isn’t quite like the way it is in real life. It’s probably funnier if you are a part of the industry, because then you know what’s realistic and what isn’t, and what was thrown in as a joke.

And! There are a lot of practical effects in the movie. Which is to be expected, given everything, but it’s still nice to see. That also means that there are plenty of explosions going off all over the place, along with stunt driving, car crashes, and fight scenes. And also an attack dog. That’s pretty cool.

It’s a pretty good movie! Like I said above, this is a movie that I feel as if I can recommend to almost anyone (other than children, I guess, who would probably watch and enjoy it anyway). I’m sad to hear that it hasn’t been as successful as some other movies, because it’s great fun and very well-made. Please see it if you get the chance; I think you'll have a great time.