#tom ryder fanfic

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

Summary: You're Tom's makeup artist for a movie he's shooting and you absolutely hate him. However, one round of karaoke later, your feelings temporarily shift.

Genre: Fluff, smidge of angst, Enemies to Lovers (very one-sided lmao)

Warnings: Tom is a stupid asshole (but he's also just a mess), swearing, reader is described as shorter than Tom, light misogyny, slapping, alcohol, being drunk/high.

TOM RYDER MASTERLIST

The bar is dimly lit and the loud music resounds in your ear as your knee bounces. You stir the straw around your drink, sighing as you turn to Vanessa, your co-worker. "He left me another post-it note on the desk yesterday telling me he wants a new lip oil because his now tastes weird!? His last one is only from last week and it's the same brand he always uses! I'm so sick of his bullshit, V," you drop your head in your arms and then peek up at Vanessa again, "He's such a dick."

Vanessa laughs, sipping on her margarita, as she shrugs, "Didn't you know that when you took the job, honey?"

"I mean, sure. But those could have been rumors," you pout and sit up, moving some hair behind your ear as you look around the room, where other crew members have gathered around the karaoke machine.

"Listen, don't think about Tom Ryder. You're off the clock and everyone knows he's a world-class asshole—a pretty world-class asshole, I will let him have that," Vanessa hums and also turns her attention to the rest of your friends and co-workers as she claps her hands. 

You look down at your drink, your cheeks feeling warmer than usual. Not thinking about Tom Ryder was easier said than done when you had to work on his face 5 days a week. He was so infuriating most times, either talking down to you when you worked or wouldn't cooperate with anything you told him to do because he was on his phone. Sometimes he really makes you want to stab the mascara stick into his eye. 

Still, you can't deny he's extremely handsome and that just annoys you more. 

Suddenly, you hear a bunch of cheers and hoots from outside, directly accompanied by the sound of the door slamming open. When you hear an all too familiar voice, your eyes widen and you snap around to make sure you hadn't just imagined it. 

Tom Ryder coming to one of the crew parties? No fucking way. Obviously, he's always invited to them but in a very arrogant fashion he never shows up—which is one of the reasons you do, because he never does. 

Only this time he did and he's not alone. 

Tom is dressed in another one of his boisterous outfits, his shirt loosely unbuttoned to reveal his chest and a peak of his toned abs. Pink-tinted sunglasses sit on his nose and his dirty blond hair curls messily around his face.

He looks drunk, or high, when he walks in and you can't tell which one it is because he's constantly moving and laughing. He's accompanied by a few other low A-list actor friends he has and a pretty blond model hangs on his arm, her giggles instantly infuriating you. 

How can she stand to be near him for more than a minute? Even less hold his arm and be his eye-candy? 

You turn back around, desperately attempting to calm the bile rising in your throat. God, you hate him. You feel even worse when he leans beside you at the bar and orders a drink from the bartender, snapping his fingers as he does. He doesn't even address your presence beside him and your blood boils. 

Your anger immediately turns to disgust when you hear the man hosting the karaoke scream out Tom Ryder's name.

"Tom Ryder everyone! I loved your new movie, man, it was awesome! How about a song?" the man asks, eyebrows wiggling as the crew clap (mostly out of politeness) and his friends make loud, drunken noises like a bunch of animals. 

"C'mon! One song—for all the pretty ladies in the crowd!"

Tom seems intrigued when the man mentions the girls. You roll your eyes and your hand tightens around your glass as he walks up to the host, raising his hands in surrender and feigning humbleness. "Alright, alright, I have to give the ladies what they want, don't I?" Tom boasts, winking at one of the camera girls he never looks at otherwise. 

Someone put you out of your misery now.

The host seems ecstatic to have someone this famous next to him and asks Tom for a quick photo, which Tom obviously doesn't turn down. You pretend to gag when Vanessa turns to look at you and smirks at Tom's behavior.. 

"How about a duet, Ryder?" The host asks as he hands him the mic. 

"Nah, I usually sing solo," Tom says, his words slightly slurred, and then he leans in to whisper something in the host's ear—which probably goes something like, "Unless she's got a nice rack, then by all means invite her up here." 

You lean in and whisper into Vanessa's ear, "Ten bucks he takes home the girl he ends up singing with," you say with a frown, your voice a little strained. Vanessa laughs and then the worst thing happens.

"You," the host shouts and you look up alarmed. Your eyes are wide when you realize everyone, including Tom, is staring at you. "The angry-looking girl in the back. Why don't you come up and join him? I doubt he'd bite." 

Laughter, including some nervous ones from your friends, resounds around the room as Tom's smirk widens. You'd be surprised, you think. You find your voice again and say, "Um, can't you ask one of them?" you point to the group of eager fangirls swarming around the small stage as they ogle Tom. 

"C'mon, sweetheart," Tom slurs, squinting at you, "One song won't kill you." 

But you might just kill him.

Vanessa, the traitor, nudges you again and you stumble from the stool. You glare at her but when all your friends, including Tom's more obnoxious friends, chant encouragements you feel completely trapped. 

The walk to the small stage feels eerily similar to a walk of shame as you look to your co-workers in hopes someone will save you. No one does and you ignore the stares from all the girls who wish they could take your place. 

You're blinded by the lights as you step on the stage and approach the host. "Atta girl," the man smirks patronizingly as he hands you the second mic. You scrunch your nose at him and then look up at Tom, expecting him to be ignoring you like he usually is, but instead, he's staring. 

His cheeks are pink from being intoxicated and he tilts his head, watching you clutch the mic nervously. 

The host doesn't warn you when the song begins to play and he walks away. You realize too late you and Tom are now alone and everyone is watching you as dread slowly fills your stomach. 

You don't even know how to sing! This is so humiliating. 

 The familiar melody of, "Don't Go Breaking My Heart," fills the air and you feel the heat rise in your chest and up to your ears. Your heart is pounding so loudly you can only faintly hear Tom start to sing the song. He sounds fairly good and you aren't surprised considering he's an actor. 

Your voice catches in your throat and you feel tears rise. You don't sing when it's your turn and the crowd is silent. 

Suddenly, you jump when you feel a strong hand on your hip and you snap your head around to look at him. Your hand finds Tom's hand immediately, gripping it, and just as you're about to pull it away, he leans in and whispers, hot against your ear, "Baby doll, you're making me look bad," he states, his tone as condescending as it always is, and your heart does a somersault in your chest.

He looks down at you this time, his blue eyes lock with yours for a moment and his hand falters on your hip. For an actor, Tom Ryder has surprisingly no poker face because when he sees your distressed state, his demeanor shifts, and instead of frustration, he takes on a different approach.   

He takes your hand, suddenly twirling you around and you make a small sound as you stumble. It's been a few seconds since anyone has sung the song, so he sings again and this time, his eyes stay on yours as he sings your lyrics.

"You know this," he mouths, encouraging you as he does this weird, clearly drunk-induced shimmy that makes you laugh despite your better judgment. He points to the small screen where the lyrics are displayed.

You take a breath and then sing, focusing on him instead of the crowd and your head feels light. You would have never guessed there would be a day when you'd find comfort in Tom Ryder. Your friends clap with amusement and laughter swirls around the bar as you both continue to sing and dance. 

Occasionally, Tom will pull you in closer but you'll move away, flustered, and when the song finally ends, you move back and almost trip on the mic's cord. 

With a gasp, you expect to fall flat on your ass but instead, Tom wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him as your palms press on his chest. You're breathing heavily and so is he, his hand is still on your back as his eyes roam over all your features until you push him away and walk down the small stairs and back to the ground where all your friends are whispering and clapping. 

You feel like you can't breathe, your heart beating so quickly. You mumble a quick "excuse me" to Vanessa, snatch your purse from the bar counter, and open the door to outside. The cool air calms your burning skin and you lean against the building. 

What the fuck was that? Why was he looking at you like that? 

"You know, it's normal to be nervous around someone like me," Tom's voice interrupts your panic and you spin around, not expecting to see him. "But running from me? Now, darling, that's truly a first," he finishes with a chuckle and an obnoxious smirk. 

"You're so full of yourself," you whisper automatically but then your eyes round as if you've realized what you'd said. 

Tom looks surprised but he also remains cool as he strokes a hand down his jaw and puts it on his hip. "Mm, I assume you're not a fan then." 

You cross your arms and look anywhere but directly at him because fuck, why did someone so incredibly stupid and pretentious have to be so darn hot? "You could say that, sure," you shrug. "Not everyone likes you, Tom Ryder." You shut yourself up as soon as the words leave your mouth. This isn't exactly something you should say to someone who you work with.

However, Tom's expression sours and he lifts his eyebrow. "You don't like me?"

You turn to him, eyes locking with him this time. "That isn't what I said."

Tom's eyebrows crease and he squints at you, removing his stupid sunglasses and they push back his blond hair. "You're confusing me." He sounds genuine. 

You can't help but chuckle at his idiocy and surprisingly for you, your laughter makes him smile. He leans in and you lean away, eyes round when you realize how close he's becoming. "You have such a sexy laugh," he says cockily, "Bet I can make you do it again."

You hate to admit this but your heart does flutter at his words. Can anyone really blame you? It's Tom. Fucking. Ryder. You try to remind yourself how much of a dick he is—and always has been—but as you look into the blue of his eyes, his reassuring touch burns imprints on your skin and you feel dizzy. 

Shit. 

"You look familiar," Tom straightens himself, "Have I seen you somewhere? You been in any magazines? You certainly have the look."

You ignore the so-called complement and stare at him. He has to be kidding. You've been doing his makeup for over six months now and he supposedly sees you almost every day. You worked on his face every single day—how could he not recognize you? You open your mouth to ask if this is a joke but he interrupts you.

"Seriously, I must know you from somewhere. Gimme a hint, baby,"

Your stomach sinks and you feel so so stupid. Tom doesn't sense your shift as he's still focused on whatever fleeting emotion may have been between you before as his hand finds your hip. 

Instantly, your palm connects with his cheek, and the sound cracks into the air. "Don't touch me," you say harshly, ignoring how shaky your voice is.

Tom looks at you, his hand over his bruised cheek, "You hit me?!" he says in disbelief, "What the fu—" 

You don't stick around to hear his whining as you turn around and run from him. 

Again. 

"Hey–wait!" you hear Tom's shout but why would you turn around now? Tears of frustration brim your eyes as you hastily walk down the empty sidewalk.

There is no way you're fucking crying over Tom fucking Ryder right now, you tell yourself and pinch the inside of your eyes. 

No way. 

You ignore Vanessa's incessant calling and her worried texts when you arrive at your apartment. You scream in frustration, throwing your heels across the room and scaring your poor cat, Pumpkin, as she sprints into the living room, her claws against the floorboards.

Quickly, you follow her and scoop her into your arms, "'M sorry, baby," you coo and nuzzle your nose into her fur. "I'm sorry Mommy scared you."

You hear Vanessa's fifth call from your purse but you're too exhausted to deal with her and the fallout from what had happened tonight, so instead you sit on the couch and cuddle with Pumpkin, scratching behind her ears. 

* * * 

When you pull into the parking lot of the new set the next morning, you haven't slept well and you feel like shit—it doesn't help that they're filming outside today, in the summer heat, and grainy sand infiltrates into your Converse. 

You groan as you walk over to the makeup trailer and see Vanessa waiting for you. You almost called in sick this morning until you realized how guilty that would make you look, so you sucked it up. 

"Y/n?!" Vanessa shrieks and pulls you behind the trailer. "Where have you been?! I've called you a hundred times, why haven't you answered any of them? I was worried Ryder somehow took you home and that I'd lost 10 bucks—" 

"Gross, why would you think that?" you say with disgust as if you weren't surprised to hear that after you left Tom hadn't returned to the bar. 

"I mean, for one, Ryder was missing and no one knew where he went. And second, are you shitting me? Girl, the tension was more than palpable! You were practically dry-humping Tom Ryder in front of everyone!" 

You feel like someone has just punched you in the stomach and your voice comes out high and nervous when you exclaim, "I was not! It wasn't like that, V! Is that what everyone thinks?" Vanessa nods as an answer and you want to scream. 

"I swear, I- nothing happened—even outside—I- funny story I slapped him because he's a jerk and I- I don't like him!" you ramble and your heart thumps quicker when Vanessa looks behind you and her mouth curls into a devious smirk.

"Don't look now, sweetie, but your boyfriend just arrived," she pauses and checks her watch, "An hour late. As usual." Vanessa looks you dead in the eyes and then she teases, "Chop chop, time to put makeup on your man." 

Your eyes widen and you pull Vanessa further behind the trailer so Tom won't see you or her. You hold her shoulders. "Please switch with me for today. He won't even notice the difference, and Allie doesn't need to have her makeup done until noon so that way I don't have to see him! Please, V, I'll do anything!" 

Vanessa crosses her arms, "Nothing happened with him, hm?"

You look at her, your eyes round and pleading, "Please."

"Fine, but you're paying for my lunch later," she says and taps your nose, "and giving me a detailed rundown on what happened with Ryder."

You nod reluctantly, whispering a small thank you under your breath as she turns to walk into the makeup trailer behind Tom. You let out a breath, leaning against the trailer. You know you'll have to face him at some point—just not now.

The day drags on and on as the heat is becoming almost unbearable. You stand to the side, your makeup kit secured to your hip as you watch the scene from under a tent. It's another action sequence and it's very obvious Tom's makeup is fading from the warmth and his sweat. 

Shit, you realize, he needs a touch-up. Vanessa didn't use the correct primer. 

You look around, hoping to see Vanessa and tell her Ryder needs a touch but the director's voice cuts in and you tense, "Cut! Someone come to fix his face!" Jody turns to you, her eyes kind as her voice becomes a little less stressed when she sees you're prepared for this, "Can you fix his makeup?" 

Shit, shit, shit. 

This is your job, you can't say no so you walk out onto the set where Tom is leaning against a prop rock. He straightens himself and when he turns, he doesn't have the chance to process your presence as you guide him down and fumble with your kit. 

He's taller than you so he's leaning down so you can fix him up properly. You put your hand on his jaw, near his ear, to steady him as you touch up under his eyes and near his cheekbones. 

He's staring at you and you know he recognizes you this time, his blue eyes wide and puppy-like. 

Silently, you add some powder on his cheeks and nose so the product sticks better this time and when you let him go, Tom opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head no, and then you turn your head and hurry back behind the camera. 

Your ears are burning from embarrassment as you walk directly to the makeup trailer, without looking back at anyone. 

You've barely closed the door when it slams open and you scream. You spin around just as someone tries to hold onto your arm and on instinct you grab the hairspray that's in your kit and spray it directly into… Tom's eyes. 

He screams too, his voice high-pitched and very un-sexy, as he clutches his eyes. Seeing him only causes you to scream again. "Ryder?!" you exclaim and immediately take his arm, pulling him inside the trailer as he wails like a child and rubs at his eyes. 

You slap his hands away and push him down under the faucet, pouring water into his eyes and in the process drenching his blond hair and ruining his mascara. 

"Fuck," he groans as he sputters out water as he jerks away from you. You move closer to him and without thinking hold both of his cheeks in your hands, looking directly into his, now slightly irritated, eyes. 

"Does it hurt?" you whisper, clearly concerned. 

Tom rests his hands on yours and pulls them away, "What do you think?" he groans and blinks a few times. "You're the girl—" he mutters and pinches his nose, "at karaoke. I remember you now."

You realize how close you are to him now and, overwhelmed, you step back. "Lucky me," you mumble sarcastically and take his arm, pulling him to one of the seats. "I have to fix your face again or someone is gonna fire me." 

He's weirdly docile as he looks at your work as you dry his hair. Once you're done, he speaks up, "Why'd you run from me? I mean, c'mon, the way you looked at me with those fuck-me eyes—" 

Tom has no shame and of course, he wouldn't. He's probably never really been rejected in his entire life and women have most likely let him speak to them like this. You pause and pull his chin harder so he's looking at you as you continue with his mascara. 

"Tell me honestly Ryder, do you even hear yourself when you speak?" you ask, your voice strained. 

"What?" Tom asks, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You're an asshole. That's why I ran from you." You drop his chin and your word vomit comes out without you being able to help it as you cross your arms, "I mean—I have been doing your makeup for months! And you've only ever left me your stupid post-it notes when you have a demand! No "Hi," "Good morning," "How are you?" No. Nothing like that. And I tried! I really tried in the beginning because like everyone else on this fucked up planet I thought you were awesome."

Tom opens his mouth to make a snide comment but you instantly press your finger to his lips. 

"I really thought, "I'm so lucky to be Tom Ryder's makeup artist!" and then I found out Tom Ryder is a shit person that doesn't—"  

"I'm not a shit person," Tom deadpans and stares at you as if your words have hurt him. 

You tilt your head and drop your arms to your side. You don't even know what to say to him anymore. 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry I made you feel shitty, okay?" Tom defends and his cheeks are pink, "I just—I am really bad with faces—and I-I was completely shit-faced and high on–" 

He pauses, stands, and wraps his hand around your jaw, his thumb stroking your bare cheek as your eyes widen and you tense. Something about his charm makes it impossible for you to move and because his touch is gentle, you aren't too worried. For now. "'M sorry. I am. Can't we call it even since you hit me and sprayed me in the face with whatever that fucking was?!"

He continues, "—listen, I liked karaoke with you and I was shit-faced so I know I must have been a dick."

"You're always a dick, Ryder," you comment, your tone less mad than earlier.   

"Then, you don't know me very well," Tom shrugs, "or like at all." 

"So—you're saying all this dick-ishness is a persona?" You sound very skeptical and Tom just shrugs as his thumb strokes over your skin once more and then he drops his hand, putting some distance between you and him. 

"No. Not entirely. But, you know, that doesn't mean I'm incapable of genuine feelings, Y/n."

You're surprised when you hear your name fall from his lips. Tom sees your expression and another one of his smirks curls at his lips, "As I said, I remember you now. Always did—my hot makeup artist—ask anyone—ask Gail, I mention you a lot. I was just hammered, you know? High out my mind—and it heightened all my fucking senses that I couldn't get your laugh out my head for hours." 

"If you're joking," you say and glare at him, "it isn't funny." 

Tom puts a hand on his heart dramatically, "'M not. Scouts fucking honor." 

You look at him and for once, you can't read him. "Well, either way, that doesn't change how much of an asshole you've been to me. You never said "hi" but you told Gail about me? Sorry, but that doesn't impress me."

You walk up to him and tilt his head using his chin, examining his make-up once more, and then you take his arm and try to pull him out of the trailer, "Now, c'mon, you have a job to do—go do it," you hiss.

"But—" 

"No," you start but he won't move. He turns around and stares at you. Fuck, he's strong. "Why won't you leave?" you ask, breathless as you step away from him. 

"Do you hate me so much that you won't even consider that I genuinely find you interesting?" he asks with a hint of insecurity in his voice again. "That I liked spending time with you and I think you're pretty."  

Your chest tightens and you sigh, "I- I don't know," you admit and you look up at him. You can't deny that your feelings have shifted and a little voice in your head screams that this is a trap and he'll eventually break your heart. 

"Here," Tom fumbles with the pants of his costume and pulls out a pen and a post-it note. 

"You seriously just carry those on you?" you crack a smile, finding that weirdly endearing. 

Idiot. 

"Yeah," Tom says like it's the most normal thing ever and then he writes down something on the paper. When he hands it to you it's the name of a restaurant. You frown, it's your favorite restaurant. He'd written a time beside the name. 

"How do you know this is my favorite restaurant?" you ask. 

Tom looks up, his smirk turning into a smile. "I didn't—it's mine."

Your frown deepens, "Hm, I didn't take you for a low-priced family-run Chinese restaurant kinda guy—don't you have a personal chef or something," you say and look at the time he's written down, "What is this anyway?" 

Tom shrugs and adjusts his hair. "I do but I like this place. The family who owns it never tells anyone I've been there, it gives me some privacy," he sounds serious and he walks closer to you, "Don't tell anyone, it might ruin my reputation and then your favorite restaurant might be swarmed by a bunch of fangirls," he smirks, pleased with himself. 

You can't help but chuckle. 

"And this," he points to the time, "is where I'll be tomorrow evening if you'd like to join me," he says nonchalantly and then opens the trailer door. Just as he does, he takes his phone and takes a picture of the time so he remembers it and he sends you a wink. "I won't wait long but if you do come, it's on me." 

You stare at the paper and realize Tom Ryder has just asked you on a date. You look up but he's gone and your heart does about ten thousand summersaults as your brain screams in agony. Your cheeks feel warm as you fold the paper up and put it in the pocket of your jeans. 

You're so very screwed.

You hear a ding and then a text from Vanessa saying, "Ryder's mic was on—crew heard absolutely everything—we didn't wanna interrupt your moment," she adds a mocking winking emoji but you don't care. 

That's the least of your worries now that you have a date with Tom Ryder.

[lost-pen-name]

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

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

Genre: Fluff, cuddling, comfort

Word count: 2176

Warnings: none

{ you came? you called. }

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was not what you were expecting.

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

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

“And how does she do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this was excessive, even for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled again and leaned into the hug.

Okay, maybe you do kinda like him.

[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.

[happy74827]

I have to stop going to the movies because my obsession of fictional hot men just keeps growing…

That being said, who wants some Colt Seavers and Tom Ryder fics? 👀

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

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

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

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝘽𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨

Tom Ryder x F!Reader

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

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

◢ Word Count: 1.7K

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

2K Follower Prompt List

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Were you interested in him?" He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------------------------

Extra tags: @voxmortuus @earth-elemental18

[voxmortuus]

May I request #3 ☆ { overstimulating } them til they’re begging with Tom Ryder?

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Tom Ryder x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Fall Guy ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 466 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Appealing to Tom's Massive Ego | Clitoral stimulation | Overstimulation | Begging | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙ ⇘ My Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist ⇙

Your breath, you couldn't catch it. It was like the whole world was non-existent, and you felt like you were floating. Your eyes flutter, your body shakes and quakes with such a fever that you feel beads of sweat forming at your brow and across your hairline. Clenching at the arms of the chair as he hovers over you, feeling your breath grace his skin. This sensation of static kisses the surface of your flesh, unable to make sense of much, it all becomes so overwhelming.

Pressing your legs against him as he keeps them open, working your swollen bud, you let out a shaking scream, your whole body feels so overwhelmed with pleasure you're unsure what to do with it. You can't close your legs, you can't move, you're just shaking. You can't find your words, each time you try to speak, it's nothing but breathy gasps.

Looking over you, he chuckles softly, kissing the corner of your lips as you press them together, whimpering. Your eyes search his face as you grab his arms, gripping tightly. Shaking your head, you still can't find your words. Your eyes flutter as you continue to shake your head.

"You're gonna need to use those words, Babe, I can't understand what you're tellin' me." Tom smirked.

You continue to shake your head, your breathing heavy and breathy. You can't find what you're trying to say, you press your hips up as you press your head back against the chair.

"If you can't find your words, I'm just gonna keep goin'."

Taking in a gasp, finally finding the free brain moment to form your words.

"Please -- Please stop!" you plead, though on the cusp of your finish, you need a moment to breathe.

Blinking twice, he looks over you, his fingers slow just a bit, but didn't quite stop.

"No, I think I'm going to make you beg for it." He smirked.

You weren't using your safe word, so he knew he was still okay to keep going. Groaning you shook your head again, biting your lip, your nails pressed into his arms a bit as you attempted to wiggle away, but unrelentingly his fingers kept working you.

"Tom. Please, please stop, I need a moment. Please." you whimper.

"You can do better than that, come on, beg for it." he groaned against your lips.

"My God, My Sir, My Master, please, please stop, I need a moment. Please, I beg of you, stop for a moment." you plead, appealing to that ego of his.

After a few brief moments of thought, he stopped for a moment but kept his hand there, covering your wet core. He searches your face and smiles a moment.

"When you're ready, let me know. We'll keep goin." he smirked and kissed you softly.

[tangerinesgf]

yooo, could you write for Thom Ryder (or whatever his name is ) someee maybe hurt/comfort stuff. Cause I love your writings!!!,💋🙏

Tom Ryder x GN!reader

Summary: Tom Ryder is an addict. But only the person closest to him knows that.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Some fluff, Paranoia, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

A/N: Yaaayy my first Tom Ryder fic!! Tysm for your request. I'm having so much fun writing for this man. I hope you like it. Also Tom Ryder is British right? Correct me if I'm wrong here pls, his accent was so confusing to me

It was the night after Tom Ryder’s big movie premiere. Or well one of them. Another big blockbuster on his name, another couple million dollars in the bank and like every big occasion in Ryder’s life it called for a party. As his partner you have been to all the premiere's with him. From London to Paris and even Tokyo, all the way back to L.A. You were by his side through it all. The good and the bad. 

Tonight was all good. He just had a busy press tour behind him and was finally ready to unwind. He invited all of his friends and their friends to his house, or as he called it his ‘kingdom’. 

The first few hours you stuck to each other like glue, laughing dancing, ofcours a bit of flirting and kissing too. After a while you told him you were gonna go to the bathroom for a second and after some serious looks that told him that he couldn’t come with you.

When you came back Tom wasn’t in his usual spot anymore, but you didn’t really think anything of it. He was probably outside smoking weed or hanging around with his friends.

At some point during the evering you started to miss your boyfriend and started looking for him across the dancefloor, expecting to find him grinding with some random person he just met.

You’ve come to find his behaviour when high or drunk to be quite predictable. Whenever you found him dancing with another girl he’s quite genuinely confused, saying sorry over and over again, because he thought he was dancing with you. Though you couldn’t entirely blame him for it since he was high off his nuts and completely disoriented. Besides that, he was absolutely adorable while begging for your forgiveness.

Inside that asshole he protrayed himself to be was just an insecure little boy who didn’t get enough validation from his parents. 

So here you were searching his entire loft, shoving people aside left and right to find Ryder, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it appeared to be. His loft was huge with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms and just random rooms filled with whatever crazy thing Tom wanted to try this time.

As his girlfriend you were often at his place, which means you were there last week when he turned one of his rooms into a small makeshift jungle for his new Koala. You gave it 2 weeks max before animal protection would show up at his front door. 

His loft felt like an absolute madhouse everytime he held a party there, the music was deafening and the smell of weed and alcohol hung in the air. You were pretty sure Tom didn’t even know half of the people in his house right now. 

To your surprise he wasn’t shagging up with some random girl, in fact he was nowhere to be found at the party. Usually you’d stick by him during parties like this, especially when there were drugs involved. So when you couldn’t find him with his usual group of friends and he hadn’t come to find you, you knew something was wrong. 

You abandoned the party downstairs and went to find the actor upstairs where the guests weren’t allowed. The bedroom was empty, as was his second bedroom and the room he uses to practice his scenes (that particular room had a huge mirror).

“Tom? Love?” You call out in the hallway as you walk past all his movie posters. Then suddenly you stop in your tracks as you hear a voice coming from the bathroom, it sounds like Tom talking to someone, but there’s no other voice talking back. Like he’s all alone in there. 

Silently you walk over to the bathroom, the last thing you wanted to do was scare him right now. The door was open just a bit as you leaned beside it, looking through the little slit in the door. Tom was pacing the room back and forth like madman. You couldn’t exactly hear what he was saying because most of it came out hastily in a mumble. 

You decided to approach him carefully since you had no real perception of the state he was in right now. Ever so softly you knock on the bathroom door to announce your presence. At the sound Ryder’s head immediately snaps up in your direction, he looks like a deer caught in headlights with those wide eyes.

In a split second he grabs his hairbrush from the shelf above the sink and holds it in front of him like you would a knife. Ofcours you knew he wouldn’t get very far with that, but right now you just wanted to make him feel comfortable so you hold your hands up in the air to show him you mean no harm.

“Tom..” You say softly as you take a step closer to him. The beads of sweat on his forehead become apparent to you as do his frantic eyes which are constantly scanning every part of the room for threats. 

His movements are erratic as he holds the brush out in front of him and you wonder if he even reconizes you as his partner at this moment. “Stay back- I know why you’re here… I know it. Where are your friends, hm?” He raises his eyebrow at you, skeptical of your intentions. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” A frown appears on your face as he starts ranting nonsense. You were well aware of Ryder’s drug problem, but you really hated seeing him like this. The poor guy was really in a miserable state.

It had all started quite innocent, just one joint to take the edge off before a press tour or a premiere, you even did it with him sometimes. Then at parties he started to dance on the edge of safe and dangerous. Taking more and more different kinds of drugs with the excuse of ‘just experimenting’. 

In the last couple of weeks you’ve found him throwing up in the bathroom, pale as a ghost more than once. You’ve tried to offer advice but he never wants to hear it. He’s Tom Ryder. He can do whatever he wants. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You came all the way up here to get me alone, right? So there’d be no witnesses when you kill me.” The brush is shaking in his hands and his words are quick, full of distrust towards you.

You can tell it’s bad this time. You’ve never seen him so paranoide before and it’s seriously concerning. Lately one or two hits just aren’t enough for him anymore, it’s like he’s trying to numb himself. From what you wouldn’t know, he’s not exactly open about his flaws and weaknesses. That’s vulnerability and that’s bad. 

“No I’m not-” You step closer, but he cuts you off by throwing the brush in your direction which you just barely manage to dodge. You look at him with wide eyes and before he can grab the bar of soap from the sink to throw that as well you rush over to him to grab his wrists.

“Tom, listen to me- fuck..” You mutter as he struggles against you, trying to push you off him. 

“What do you want from me?!” Ryder shouts desperately. Even after doing all those movies and action scenes he has really no idea how to fight, so most of his attempts to fight you off go nowhere. 

“It’s me, Tom. No one is trying to kill you!” You yell as you finally manage to remove the bar of soap from his hands. You quickly reach your hands up to cup his face. With closed eyes you take some deep breaths to slow down your heart rate. You weren’t exactly sober either, so you took a moment to steady yourself before looking back at him.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where the paranoia came from, ofcours you did. Tom Ryder is the most famous actor in the world, everyone who didn’t want to be with him, wanted to be him. Let’s just say that both of you have experienced first hand how far some people are willing to go for celebrities. 

Yet when sober Tom didn’t seem necessarily concerned about it, more annoyed or angry when another fan tried to touch or attack him. And don’t get it wrong, Tom loves the attention and validation, but he doesn’t exactly want those crazies near him.

“Hey, hey look at me, yeah? Look at me.” Your voice is demanding and his eyes immediately snap back towards yours. His sunglasses do a poor job of hiding his wide blown, red eyes. 

“You’re okay.” You gently stroke his cheek with your thumb to try and calm him down like you’ve done countless times before. “You’re okay..” You repeat in a softer tone, a small smile spread across your lips.  

“Baby?” He whispers quietly. His eyes have softened and you can feel the man you love coming back to you. 

“Mhm..” You hum softly. “No one’s going to kill you, I promise.” 

You notice Tom’s eyes starting to water a little as he realizes everything is okay and that you’re with him to keep him safe. He holds his head down in shame.  “I’m sorry..” His voice barely comes out as a whisper as he leans forwards and buries his face in your chest. 

You wrap one arm around him, the other gently stroking his messy blonde hair to comfort him. He’s always had a weak spot for you when you played with his hair. 

“And I’m sorry I tried to hit you with my hairbrush.” He mumbles again.

“I know, love..” You whisper back as you hold him close. Then without warning Tom starts sobbing into your chest, it sounds broken and helpless. Every single thought inside his head just spilt over, unable to keep it in anymore, yet also unable to actually talk about it. 

You pull him into a tight hug, leaning his head on your shoulder as you rub his back. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before and while it felt a little bit weird, it also felt good that he trusted you enough to let himself be vulnerable with you.

For now you'd just hold him, let him air his heart as long as he needs to. You can both work on your issues later. In this moment being in the comfort of each other's arms is enough.

A/N: I'm a firm believer that Tom Ryder swings both ways, but cannot hold a normal stable relationship to save his life. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this and please if you have any Tom Ryder requests send them in.

I don't have a Taglist for Tom Ryder fanfics yet, so if you wanna be on it lemme know.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 8

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. Invited along to his party, Parker spends the entire time trying to compare the Tom Ryder being celebrated with the one that she was starting to know. Oddly enough, it seemed that no one else knew him like she did.

Read the story here: prev / next

"Ho-ly shit."

Parker peeled her sunglasses off the bridge of her nose to cast a bug-eyed glance towards the looming mansion. The driveway, long and filled to the brim with parked cars worth more than her entire life savings, led up to one of the nicest houses she had ever seen. Gail's was the only one in competition, but while the producer's house had been a modern deco build with glass walls and white washed everything, this one was a Mediterranean style villa. Cobblestone led up to the front porch, large pillars jutting up to a three story foyer, with ivy sprawled over the entirety of the front half.

Holy shit was right.

"I can't believe this is where he lives," Colt muttered with a shake of the head. They were slowly ambling towards the valet parking, and music could be heard pulsing in the distance.

Parker leant between the two fronts seats, seatbelt unbuckled, to angle her head back for a better view. "Really?" she asked with a laugh. "Because this is exactly the type of place that I would picture him living."

"No way," he argued, petering up the drive. "Tom is all about fancy and new and having his face plastered on everything. I pictured him living in a Tom Cruise style mansion. Huge windows, glass ceilings, a petting zoo. That type of thing."

"Does Tom Cruise have a petting zoo?" Jody mused from the passenger seat.

"Well... probably," Colt shrugged.

Parker sighed, tilting her head to spare Jody an over the top eyeroll. "Colt thinks that all rich people have petting zoos. Something about the illegal zebra trade."

"Ivory trade."

"He watched one documentary and now he thinks he's David Attenborough," she chirped.

Her brother didn't take kindly to that, however, and planted his palm squarely into her face to push her into the backseat. She swatted him away, but the damage to her hair had already been done, and as Jody giggled into her hand, Parker tried to smooth it down. "It's Sir David Attenborough," he corrected her. Jody, amused as always by his antics, listened intently as he added, "and it wasn't just one documentary. There's a whole bunch out there about the exotic animal trade. Really heinous stuff, you know. Tom Cruise is definitely knee deep in it. He's the A-lister, after all. I bet he has one of those safari themed rooms with taxidermy endangered animals stuck up all over the walls. Rhinos for sure."

"Oh, for sure," she agreed.

They smiled at one another as Colt drew his truck to a stop. A valet appeared on both sides, opening a door for both Colt and Jody. Parker clambered out behind them—a disgruntled glare shot towards the valets that had completely ignored her—as Colt handed over the keys.

"Be easy with her, yeah? She's hard to handle if you don't know what you're doing," he said. Of course, with all the other cars surrounding them being Ferraris and Range Rovers, his pickup was the least expensive thing they had to worry about. When one of the boys coughed into his fist, Parker grabbed her brother by the elbow and hauled him towards the door. "What—it's a 2015!"

"I think they know what they're doing," she said.

"It has a wonky shift!"

"You're a wonky shift."

Colt snatched his arm out of her grasp as they approached the front door. He looked scandalized at her comment, and Parker couldn't help but return the favor by running a hand through his hair.

Of course, he had a problem with that, and as he shoved her away she could only laugh. A good thing she wasn't wearing heels; the cobblestone entry way was hard enough to walk on in sneakers, and if Jody hadn't been there to catch her, Parker may have gone face first into Tom's expensive garden. But, the blonde was there to catch her, and as Colt fixed his hair, the girls linked arms with matching smiles.

"Well, I for one can't wait to see what the inside looks like," Jody said conversationally. "I still can't believe that he invited us."

"Why not?"

Colt popped up on her other side, fringe back in place. "Because he's never invited us to his house. For anything. Ever. Like... ever. In the history of working for him. Literal years, Park. I'm not even allowed inside his trailer."

She shrugged. "First time for everything, right?"

Her brother didn't share her sentiments. In fact, as a pair of staff opened the front door for them, he almost looked trepidatious with a frown firmly in place.

Jody, on the other hand, was smiling excitedly. "First time for everything," she echoed.

Parker grinned at her. Then at her brother.

He rolled his eyes, but eventually a smile cracked through his apprehension. "Whatever. You think they have Bud Light?"

Music and chatter met the trio in a wave as they stepped through the front door. Jody was right to be excited—the inside of the house was far more gorgeous than the outside—and though the mass of people were all arguably important, respectable figures in Hollywood, all of them seemed to having good times with smiles and drinks in hands. No different than any other party they had been to before. Not really, anyway.

At the far side of the room was a fully stocked bar, waiters moving to and fro to serve the guests.

"Yeah, Colt," Parker laughed. "I think they have Bud Light."

---

Tom Ryder's house was exactly what Parker pictured it to be; a little bit Gucci, a little bit modern, a whole lot of colorful stucco decorated with oddly shaped mirrors, and an insurmountable number of pictures and self-portraits propped up throughout the room. Cardboard cut-outs of Tom in costumes from some of his most famous movies were sprawled throughout the living room, fashion shows and MTV interviews playing soundlessly on the large TVs, with balloons and banners stuck to every available space. If she didn't know better she might have thought that he was running for presidency with how many surfaces his face was plastered on.

Even standing at the bar, elbow propped on the cool marble surface, there were napkins with Tom Ryder quotes and trivia questions scattered along it.

"To see yourself on the screen is to be loved," one quote said. Another, printed, "Hollywood isn't just about believing, it's about doing."

Parker snorted, but tucked them into her purse anyway. Every quote was as ridiculous and vapid as the last. In one sense, she could absolutely picture Tom Ryder, face of the new Versace cologne, saying these things completely seriously to whatever reporter was listening. On the other hand, she also couldn't ever picture anyone saying these things outside of a movie script.

A bad one, too.

She was in the middle of reaching for the next in the pile when someone slumped against the bar beside her. She thought for a second that it was Colt—blonde fringe carefully swept away from the forehead with meticulous detail, beard trimmed neatly along his jawline, white toothed smile in place—but she had also left her brother in conversation with some directors outside by the pool with specific instructions not to move until she came back.

Besides, something about his presence just felt different.

Parker was smiling before she even met his gaze.

"I was wondering where you were hiding," she chirped.

Tom rolled his eyes. He was dressed in a silk button down with patterns of black and gold that accentuated the color of his hair, and a pair of black jeans. Last week's sunglasses had been replaced with his funky pair of yellow tinted glasses. Casual, yet she knew his outfit likely cost over a grand for the designer tags alone. "Are you already drinking?"

"Hardly," she huffed, glancing at the overcrowded bar. "I can't get anyone to take my—"

All it took was for him to wave a hand for a bartender to materialize, and Parker blinked in surprise. "Doubleshot vodka soda on the rocks, and a cosmopolitan," he said.

"Oh, I don't drink cosmos—" she started, only for the bartender to vanish before her eyes to get their drink orders started. She blinked a second time, mouth agape. "Huh. Now I know how pretty girls at bars feel."

"You think I'm a pretty girl?"

"You definitely have the attitude of one," she teased. Tom bent an elbow, turning to face her, and although they were in a room full of people overcrowded with music and chatter, there was something so captivating about Tom's attention that made it feel like she was the only person around. She cleared her throat, waving a napkin around languidly. "These are fun."

He rolled his eyes. "Gail loves that shit."

"I think this one is my favorite. To act is to be another person ," she quoted, wiggling her brows exaggeratedly. "Very insightful."

"Who invited you?"

Parker shrugged, plopping the napkin down onto the bar. "Some asshole I think," she mused. "I really only came for the chance to snoop through his house. I bet I could sell some hand towels for a couple hundred dollars each on eBay if I said you used them before."

He harrumphed. "Unlike Gail, I lock my doors."

"Spoilsport."

He shook his head with a chuckle just as the bartender set two glasses down in front of them. The cosmopolitan, though pink and delicate, had Parker crinkling her nose distastefully. She glanced up, hoping to flag the bartender back down, but the woman was gone.

The sound of clinking glass drew her attention, and Parker watched as Tom settled the vodka soda on her napkin, before taking a sip of the cosmopolitan. "I can't believe you don't like cosmopolitans."

"I can't believe you do. I feel like I read a quote of yours citing toxic masculinity as the best thing to come out of the older generation," she mused, glancing around at the mess of napkins she had made. "Pretty sure you said pink was for babies."

"I never said that."

"I'm telling you—"

"And salmon is the color of the season," he corrected her with another sip of his cocktail. She laughed, chancing a sip of her own, and though it was strong, it was fucking good. "Ask Melissa, she'll tell you that pink is very in right now."

"Oh, Christ, don't get me started," Parker groaned. The entire week had been spent getting Melissa up to speed on how to work the cash register, how to log new books, and how dreamy Tom Ryder was. Every other question out of the girl's mouth had been about the actor, and while Parker put up with a lot, even she had to put her foot down when Melissa started throwing around the boyfriend term. "She's pretty much the de facto president of Winward High's Tom Ryder fan club, you know. Now that she knows we're friends she's never going to leave my store."

He shrugged, casting a lithe glance around. "What's wrong with that? She clearly has good taste."

"Clearly," Parker deadpanned. "Her friends have started hanging around the store too thinking they'll spot you."

"Maybe they will."

She paused, straw pinched between her fresh manicure, to arch her brows at him accordingly. "You plan on coming by every Sunday to judge our progress or something?"

Her tone was teasing and light, but there was a weight behind the question. Are you planning on sticking around? she was asking without really asking.

Maybe he sensed that or maybe she wasn't as suave as she thought because in response Tom cast her a dry look. "You expect me to go to a real bookstore every time I need a recommendation?" he asked. And though it was quite clearly an insult against her little store, in another sense, it was also quite clearly not. "At least at your store I know I won't get mobbed with attention."

She huffed. "Well, you might, if Melissa's friends stick around."

Tom took another long sip of his drink before saying, "she's not so bad. And who am I to turn away some adoring fans, huh?"

"I almost forgot. You love attention," Parker deadpanned through a growing smile. It was hard sometimes to remember why she had disliked him so thoroughly when they first met—regardless of what Colt said, Tom was certainly charming. "Nice party, by the way."

He shot her a smug look. "Oh, this?"

"Oh, this? Whatever," she laughed. Her vodka soda was going down a little too easy as they talked, and with a shake of the quickly emptying glass, she had to remind herself that she absolutely could not get drunk at this function. Colt's birthday party was one thing, but this was altogether something else. "A very casual afternoon for you, I'd guess. I'm surprised you're not being mobbed by fans right here, too."

He waved a hand at her. "I've been networking all afternoon. Besides, most of the people here are advertisers or producers that I've already worked with in one way or another. If anyone wants to sign me for something they have to talk to Gail, not me. Really, it's more her party than mine with how much attention she's getting today."

Parker glanced at the large cardboard cut-out of a shirtless Tom Ryder from his movie The Puncher. She lifted a brow. "Really? I could hardly tell. You ever get creeped out from seeing your face everywhere?"

He followed her eyeline, and smirked. "Not when I look like that. I had to put on twenty pounds for that role."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding, something offended in his tone that she didn't believe him. A lot of things could be said about Tom, but no one could claim that he was lazy when it came to his acting. "I had to give up sugar for six months."

Parker blinked at him. "Seriously?"

"Alcohol too."

She glanced back at the cut-out, paying more attention to the cut of his muscles and the leanness of his body. It felt odd ogling the man that was literally standing next to her, but when she passed her gaze back over the real Tom, he seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention. Smugly, he flexed a bicep at her.

Parker couldn't help but throw her hands up with a laugh. "Alright, alright! I believe you. Not to say I'm an actor or anything but I can't believe you gave up alcohol for that role. I don't think I could do that. Not that I'm an alcoholic or anything, but, I don't know. That sounds awful."

"S'not as easy as everyone thinks. Being an actor."

She tilted her glass at him. "Well, I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Mr. Ryder. Good thing you can drink now, right?"

He blinked at her for a moment, assessing how serious she was, and when she gestured to him a second time with her glass, his shoulders lost some tension she didn't even realizing he was carrying. Smirking, Tom clinked his own glass against hers.

Together, they finished their drinks.

She wiped some spilt vodka off her chin as Tom glanced around. Despite him being the center of attention, he was right. It seemed that the party was happy to exist around him without even needing him. Though, every odd glance his way earned a wave or an acknowledging nod of the head, no one seemed desperate to interrupt his drink.

He turned to her. "Colt here?"

"Over by the pool. I think Jody was trying to introduce herself to some people from Warner Brothers when I left. You want to go say hi?"

He licked his lips, before gesturing to the bartender. "Four shots of vodka," he said. Parker lifted her brows at him in surprise. "What?"

"I thought we were supposed to be on our best behavior."

Tom shrugged with an indifferent sniff. "Yeah, well, it's my party right? Besides, I've spent all day entertaining these assholes. May as well see what kind of shit Colt has going on. I've got to talk to him about the movie schedule anyways."

Four shot glasses with lime wedges were set down onto the bar. Tom picked up two, and when Parker did nothing but blink at him, he gestured to them impatiently.

"Fuck, come on before someone does decide they want a picture."

"Why would they want a picture when they could just steal a poster?" she mused, though she did pick up the shot glasses. After stashing another wad of napkins into her purse, of course.

"Don't steal my shit, Parker."

"What—I didn't say I was going to!"

He scoffed, but there was a laugh hidden in there as well, and when he gestured at her a second time she figured there were worse ways to get into trouble then a few measly shots. Besides, he was offering. Where was the harm in that?

The crowd parted for Tom without him even having to ask, and as she hustled after him, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have everyone worship you, but from a distance.

"Hey, listen," she said, crowding up against his shoulder. "Colt might ask you some weird questions about the exotic animal trade. He thinks all rich people secretly own zebras. Something he saw on a documentary."

"Do you really think I'd let a zebra in here? I'm allergic to them. Plus they bite."

"Wh—how could you possibly know that?"

Tom glanced at her over his shoulder with a look she couldn't quite interpret. She was pretty sure from the flatness of his brows that he was judging her, but then again, she got the distinct impression that Tom was always judging her in one way or another. It seemed a default setting for him. "I had to get allergy shots when I did that Dior commercial," he said, voice almost swallowed by the music around them. When he shrugged, she felt the ripple of muscles from where she was pressed up against him. "Besides, you ever been to Tom Cruise's house? The place is crawling in them."

That sparked more questions than she could rightly keep track of, but Tom kept on walking as though it was an entirely normal thing to say.

So, with a huff, she just followed after.

---

The afternoon sun was warm on her shoulders, but Parker didn't seem to notice from her spot on the couch. People milled all around the pool—models walking by with oversized hats to protect their skin, producers speaking behind Kardashian style sunglasses that covered most of their face, directors caught up in spirited debates about whatever they thought the best movie of the year was—yet somehow the group of four had managed to find a little spot all to themselves away from the crowd.

The patio furniture was gorgeous; a blend of wood and metal work that was just as pretty as it was functional. There was a mix of empty glasses across the table. Their shot glasses, long since empty, had been carted off sometime ago by waitstaff. In their place were crystal glasses and crumpled napkins. Jody was currently nursing a chilled glass of wine, while Colt was responsibly finishing off a water to counter all the mojitos he'd already drank. Tom had an array of fancy cocktails that he'd finished off throughout the afternoon, and beside him Parker was working on her third double vodka soda.

She could feel her nose tingling a bit, legs fluid and weightless from where they were tucked beneath her.

The whole don't drink too much from the open bar sentiment had been disregarded almost as soon as she got there. Though she wasn't trying to make an ass of herself, it was obvious that Tom wasn't the lightweight she had teased him with being. He had been steadily drinking himself through the unlimited bar, and despite not intending to do the same, every time he ordered a new drink, miraculously something would appear for Parker as well.

Not that she minded. Open bars were spectacular, and she was having too much fun to turn down a free drink.

"—so, anyway, I'm telling you," Colt was in the middle of saying, hands gestured wide and face a rosy red as he laughed. He smacked the umbrella at his side as he talked, but didn't even seem to notice. "The drop was fifty feet, and I was supposed to do it without any sort of harness."

"Isn't that a safety hazard?"

"Well, he was just dropping into the water," Tom shrugged. "That's not bad, right? Water is soft."

"Water is so not soft," Parker corrected with an incredulous giggle. "It's like hitting solid concrete! Especially from that height. He had bruises for days!"

Tom furrowed his brows. "Nah... seriously?"

"Well, uh, I mean," her brother hedged. Whatever sort of comradery that had been building between him and Tom over the last week didn't seem to negate the fact that Tom was still his boss. Anxiously, he tugged at the collar of his jacket. "S'not like falling onto pillows."

This was apparently a shock to Tom. "Seriously? You did that stunt, like, four times!"

"Right, yes, I did. I did do it like four times. But, you know, that's because the angle wasn't right and they wanted me to show less face and then there was the whole issue with my hair..." he trailed off, shrugging. "Which, totally fine. Hair is hair, I get it."

Tom thoughtfully trailed a hand through his own hair.

"But, anyway," Colt continued. Always smiling, never one to linger on bad feelings and unfortunate facts. "So, I'm sitting there, right? Totally scared shitless as everything is prepped because the night before, Parker, that asshole, had sent me all these links to a story about someone getting eaten by a shark!"

The memory came flooding back, and though she probably should have felt bad, she was too occupied by laughing at how hilarious the whole thing was. "I didn't know you were going to be in the water at the same place!" she defended with a cry. "It was a viral story! How is it my fault that a shark decided to have a surfer for lunch?"

"Oh, well, when you put it like that... I guess you could have kept that to yourself!"

The couch erupted in laughter. Partially because Colt was just as funny as he was expressive, and partially because the idea that he had been jumping fifty feet into the water but was worried about sharks was entirely ridiculous.

"Were you alright?" Jody asked.

"Who? Me?" Colt sniffed, a hand run through his own hair. He never played cool all that well, but that certainly never stopped him from trying. Parker shared an amused look with Tom. "Fine. Totally good. Not even a scratch. You know, it was a big jump too. But I did it four times and the footage came out really good. Not to brag or anything but it was the biggest jump I've done so far."

"Sounds awful."

"Very scary."

"Horrific," she continued to emphasize with him. Drunk or not, Parker wondered if Jody was ever not staring at her brother like he lit up the room. She didn't have to ask that question about Colt—when Jody was around, she swore he would walk face first into a concrete wall. "I'll add that to the list of very brave things that you do."

He made some sort of suave joke that Parker couldn't—and more importantly didn't—want to hear that had the pair leaning on each other in giggles.

Parker took a long sip of her drink before shooting Tom a derisive look.

"Isn't there a rule on set about fraternizing?"

He looked just as disturbed as she did. "Should be. Maybe I could work that into the next contract."

"I bet you have good lawyers."

"Very good."

In the same tone that Jody had used, she said, "how brave of you. I can't imagine ever leaving the house without a team of lawyers to protect me."

She was obviously teasing, and he was well aware of that. Yet, when Tom looked at her, Parker couldn't help but flush under his attention. They were pressed into one another on the couch, having been shifted closer and closer over the afternoon every time a story was told or drinks were passed out, and from this distance she could smell his cologne.

Musky and light at the same time; lemons and saltwater.

The moment passed when his face split into a grin, and just like she had been judging Colt and Jody moments before, the pair peeled forward with their own laughter.

It wasn't until an ice cube bounced off her forehead did she control herself enough to return her attention to her brother.

He had a weird look on his face; eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Tom. "What are you laughing at, weirdo?"

"Inside joke," she chirped, if only because she knew it would bother him even more to be left out. "You wouldn't understand."

As expected, Colt sat up straighter with a frown. "I'll understand. I understand everything about you. You know, since I'm you're best friend. Have been for years. Pretty much know everything about you, Park. Duh."

"You're not my best friend."

"What—what do you mean I'm not your best friend?" he hissed incredulously. Jody sipped her wine calmly, glancing between Colt and Parker as he practically leaned over her lap to argue. "Of course I'm your best friend!"

"Am I your best friend?"

Colt spluttered. "Well of course you are! You know, just behind Dan. And Johnny. And Pete has been with me for a long time, you know, through the whole... that doesn't matter. I'm your best friend! I know I am! Who else would it possibly be?"

Parker leaned closer. Jody was now angled back, trying to avoid being smacked by either of the siblings. "Doesn't matter. So why don't you mind your business?"

"Mind my—?" Colt let out a sound halfway between a groan and a squeal, and Parker settled back into her seat with a proud grin.

Honestly, he was so easy to rile up.

So easy in fact that Jody had to pat him on the shoulder, shifting between Colt and Parker so that she could console him. Parker could still make out his frown; hear his harsh muttering as well. She giggled into her straw, pleased as punch.

"And you think I'm an asshole," Tom muttered into her ear.

She smirked at him. "You are an asshole."

The same flicker of disbelief that her brother had worn flashed across Tom's face, and it only disappeared when she pitched forward in giggles.

"I swear you two are so easy to mess with!" she cackled.

He rolled his eyes, shoving her hand off his shoulder when she attempted to console him in the same way that Jody was consoling Colt. "Didn't you say something about personally kicking you out? I think I remember that being part of our negotiations."

With all the elegance she could muster, Parker stuck her tongue out at him.

Perhaps no one had done that to him since middle school, but it shocked Tom so much that he ended up coughing up his last sip of his pina colada. That only prompted her to laugh harder, of course, and even though she was quite literally laughing at his expense, the couch shook when he started laughing too.

It was nice.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't.

"Well, this looks like a good bit of fun I've just stumbled into," a cloying voice called from the edge of their couch.

Parker didn't recognize the woman watching them, but it seemed by their reactions that the other three were well familiar with her. Colt and Tom covered their laughter with coughs and large swallows of their drinks, while Jody smoothed a hand nervously through her hair. It was an immediate sort of reaction—the type kids had when the principle stopped by—and though she didn't even know her, Parker couldn't help but to fix her own hair as well.

"No, no, please, don't stop on my regard," she said, waving perfectly manicured nails at them. The gold bracelets on her arms jingled harmoniously around the diet code and rum in her hand. A striped paper straw, tainted with the equally bright red of her lipstick, swung around in the glass. "I'm so glad that you're all enjoying yourselves so much. I rarely get this glimpse of your personal lives outside of the set."

Her brother cleared his throat under her attention, a strained smile plastered in place. "Yeah, well, you know, it's a little hard to do that when you don't normally have anything to do with us outside the set," he said.

Parker's frown deepened, but the woman only laughed.

"Charming as ever, Colt! And Jody," she added, peering around Parker. The camerawoman gave an awkward smile in response. "It's so nice to see you too, my dear. I really do have quite a few people here that I think you should talk to. Lots of talent everywhere you look, really. You could learn so much just by a few conversations; it'd be so really good for your career, dear."

"Oh. Uh, of course," she nodded. "I'd love to meet anyone. I've noticed that—"

"Tom, of course, I know. Hello my darling, my shining star," she carried on as if Jody hadn't spoken at all. She responded by taking a long swig of her drink while Colt muttered something behind the curve of his hand. Parker would have paid more attention to their whispering if the woman's gaze didn't move to her next. "And who might this be?"

Tom cleared his throat. "This is Parker."

"Uh, hi," she said with an awkward half wave.

"This is Gail," he continued with another gesture. "My producer."

Oh.

Oh.

Gail the producer was not quite what Parker was expecting. And yet, in another way, she was everything that she had been expecting. Dressed elegantly in a black pantsuit, neck adorned with gold jewelry that matched the heavy earrings dangling from her ears, Gail was certainly wealthy. She had a pair of red bottomed shoes on, the type of tinted glasses that were certainly more for appearances than necessity, and her hair was in large mussed curls around her head that probably cost a hundred dollars a piece. Her makeup was spotless despite the drink in her hand, and her smile was the mega-watt type that only existed in Hollywood.

Yet, it didn't feel friendly. In fact, as Gail's gaze slipped over Parker in a torturously slow slide, she couldn't help but feel that nothing about the woman was sincere.

And that's exactly what she was starting to suspect from Tom's stories, wasn't it? That the producer wasn't so much his friend as she was in the person in charge of him.

That certainly felt true now as her smile shifted to Tom.

"Oh, this is Parker?" she asked in a high pitched voice. If possible, her smile stretched further. "Darling, so good to meet you. I had no idea that you would be joining us today—I certainly didn't think I saw your names on the guest list—but the more the merrier! Besides, I feel that I should be thanking you."

"Sorry," Parker did a double take. "Thanking me?"

"Well, you are the one that convinced Tom here to go for that sci-fi role, aren't you?" she mused, fingers carefully sticking her straw back into her mouth as she took a long sip.

"Oh, I don't think I—"

"No need to be so shy, darling! Tom told me all about it. Course, that was only after I found him reading a stack of books to prepare for the role; so dedicated this one. I had a hard enough time getting him to consider a romance movie last year," Gail continued, laughing, "and it barely took any help from you at all to get him in excited for this film. Brilliant, darling, really. I'm always telling him that he should try to expand his portfolio. And this? Well, I think this is going to be the next big thing!"

Tom took a long dreg of his drink at the comment. Parker frowned.

She hadn't done anything. It was Tom's idea to go for the audition. And hadn't Gail been telling him he wasn't right for it in the first place?

Knowing when not to be mouthy, however, kept Parker's questions to herself. She nudged Tom with her elbow, and only when he glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, did she say, "I think you're probably right. This movie will be the next big thing. Sci-fi is really in right now, you know. Right Colt?"

Her brother blinked at her like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Subtly, Parker gave him a look. "Oh, yeah, totally. Sci-fi is huge ever since, er, Star Trek got big again. This movie is gonna be a blockbuster, Gail. Definitely a game changer for, uh, Tom."

Gail hummed. "Yes, certainly. And all thanks to the star sitting right here with us. I've always said Chris Pine was nothing compared to him."

Tom gave an awkward laugh. "We haven't even started filming yet."

"Oh, hush, darling," she waved a hand at him flippantly. Parker couldn't imagine anyone dismissing Tom Ryder like that and him taking it, but his only response was to take another sip of his drink. It was empty, however, and without being asked, she offered hers.

Tom drank half of it in a single gulp.

"He's so humble, isn't he?" Gail continued cooing. "Sitting over here, all by himself. Darling, there are so many people that still want to talk to you! You can't expect to hide out all afternoon."

"Are we chopped liver?" Colt muttered under his breath, only to be shushed by Jody.

Gail didn't hear, and instead patted Tom on the shoulder with an affectionate tut. "Come on, there are a few people from Disney that want to talk to you. Big things coming already from this movie! Just think about it; this could be the next Disney prince!"

He shifted under her touch, but managed a smile. The very type that was plastered inside on every available surface. Once upon a time, it was the smile she associated with him—the Tom Ryder that everyone saw scattered across the globe—but now, seeing it just had Parker's stomach dropping.

"Fine. But I'm not singing."

"Oh, no, of course not dear. We can always have vocals brought in from someone else if it comes to that..."

The pair disappeared into the crowd, though Parker swore she could hear Gail's laugh like nails on a chalkboard. She shook the last it of her drink with a sigh, ice clinking together.

"So, that's Gail, huh?"

Colt blew a raspberry. "Don't even get me started. Once, someone got stung by a bee, and she ranted for twenty minutes at filming being held up because they needed an epi-pen. She's the only person I've ever met that's worse than Tom."

"She's the scariest women I've ever met," Jody said. Then, with a thoughtful glance around, added, "do you think there really are people here that want to meet me?"

And just like that, things went back to normal, as her brother's face lit up with a dreamy smile. "I'd bet everyone here wants to meet you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious!" he said. Two men drifting by their couch caught his attention, and Colt cupped his hands at them. "Hey! I've got Jody Moreno over here! Waiting to be talked to! Step right up!"

"Colt!" she hissed. But she was laughing too as she tugged his hands back down into his lap. Her face was beet red when the men raised their brows at her curiously. "I can't believe you've just done that. Honestly!"

Her brother didn't see the problem, and just shrugged. "What?"

And while Jody spent the next twenty minutes swatting at him in humiliation every time he tried to pull someone into conversation with her, Parker couldn't help the way that her shoulders dropped in disappointment when every new person passing by turned out not to be the only one she wanted to talk to.

Fucking Gail.

---

Turns out, drinking from an open bar whilst sitting around the pool was a recipe for getting drunker than one intended. Parker hadn't moved from their spot on the couch in over two hours, and by the time she decided she really had to pee, her movements weren't nearly as harmonious with her thoughts as they had been.

In fact, when she stood up, she almost went careening right into Jody's lap. And though she had been considering another vodka soda the way her brother teased her was advice enough to start drinking some water. Afterall, if Colt thought she was making an ass of herself, she was a lot worse off than she thought.

So, after a wobbly trip to the bathroom where she had splashed some cold water onto her face, and an extra cold water from the bar, Parker had firmly told herself that she wasn't going to drink any more. It was getting late, anyway, and they would have to leave eventually. It would do no one any good if she threw up on the windy rode back to Colt's place—especially not when it would be the second Friday in a row that those exact circumstances played out—and the idea of having to polish her brother's truck as an apology was enough to have her start sobering up.

But, by the time she got her second water from the bar, the party seemed to have moved outside as the sunset proved a beautiful backdrop for selfies. Crowded and surrounded by cameras was not something Parker was interested in.

So, while everyone else moved outside, Parker decided to wander around inside.

It was a gorgeous house. Prettier than Gail's, she thought, because while the producer's had been that sort of minimalistic white that was taking over Beverly Hills, this one was a painting of orange and red, framed memorabilia scattered across the walls, bohemian patterned rugs soundless beneath her sneakers as she aimlessly drifted throughout. A framed hockey jersey was the only thing that felt out of place, but Tom hadn't been wrong when he scolded her interior design skills; she really wasn't one to judge, and so she shrugged it off without much thought to amble on past. There was a landing at the top of his stairs just like Gail's, one that was crowded with people and drinks, and though there was a hallway that had clearly been roped off from public access, no one seemed to nice when Parker ducked underneath the rope and disappeared around the corner.

She supposed that was something she could apologize for later, but when she stumbled across an ivy colored balcony, she couldn't begrudge herself for being curious.

It sat on the side of the house, hidden well behind an overhang of trees that blocked the neighboring houses from view. A stack of yoga mats sat in the corner, weights and endurance bands sitting next to them, and a worn rug silenced her shoes as she peered over the wall. On her tip toes she could just make out the front drive, Colt's truck parked all the way at the end, but for the most part she felt hidden from everything.

"I thought I told you not to steal anything."

Or, almost everything, anyways.

Parker snorted, but flung her purse to Tom. He caught it and one handedly started to shift through its contents. His brows furrowed together. "It's just napkins."

"Some coasters too. How do you even get your face printed on a coaster?"

"Money."

She sucked her teeth dramatically. "So that's why I don't have my face on wooden coasters. Add it to the Christmas wish-list I guess."

Tom dropped her purse onto the small table with an eyeroll, before plopping down onto the small loveseat next to it. He didn't seem amused by her joke. "This area is blocked off. There's a rope and everything to keep people from snooping."

"Is there?" she mused. "Huh. Weird. I don't think I saw that."

"Are you drunk?"

She blew a raspberry with one last view at the drive before joining him on the couch. Her drink sloshed a bit, but she hardly noticed as she offered it to him. Smiling, she said, "water."

Tom turned his nose up at her. "At least if you spill that everywhere it won't ruin anything."

"It happened one time."

"Do you know how much I pay my interior designer?"

Parker set her water down onto the table with an eyeroll, but not one that missed the dangling windchimes or the birdfeeder in the corner. "Honestly, probably plenty, but I like your house, so it's worth it."

"Oh, you think it's worth it? Thank god. I was worried it wouldn't be to your taste," he snarked. It was unusually aggressive for him, though. Like he used to talk to her. Mean and cagey, with a bite to each syllable. "I'm not sure what I would do if my house didn't get your approval. Might have to buy a new one."

"O-kay," she drawled. "That was rude. What's up with you?"

"Nothing is up with me."

"Sure," she said with furrowed brows. He huffed at her tone, sneering. Awkwardly, Parker gestured between them. "Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather keep acting like a passive aggressive dick?"

"Better idea. Why don't you just fuck off?" he snapped.

For a moment, Parker could only blink at him in surprise. He'd been an ass plenty of times before, but he'd never been this outrightly rude to her. She thought he might change his tone, hoped that he would admit it was all just a joke, but instead Tom just sat there with a glare.

And fuck if that didn't hurt.

"Alright, fine," she stood, throwing her hands up. Surprise flashed across his face, clearly not having expected her to give up so easily, but she was a grown women; friends or not, Parker did not linger where she wasn't wanted. Grabbing her purse, she said, "if you'd rather yell at me then I'm going to find Colt. I think we're going to leave soon anyway."

She crossed half the porch before Tom scoffed.

"Seriously? That's it? Fucking great. You're welcome for the invites, by the way. I'm sure you drank your worth at the open bar so you may as well leave like everyone else."

"That's not fair."

"Whatever," he waved a hand at her dismissively. "If you're going to go then just go. Now that you're done snooping around and drinking I'm not sure why'd you want to stay anyway."

She crossed her arms at him, breathing sharply through her nose, trying to level out just which emotion she was feeling the most. Hurt? Betrayal? Stupid?

"Well, what do you want me to do, Tom? Huh? If you're going to be an ass then I'm going to leave you alone because I don't deserve to be treated like that. Especially since you know I didn't come for free alcohol," she said, voice hitching. He looked away from her with a stony silence. Parker continued. "I came to celebrate you . But it's your house, and your party, so if this is how it's going to be I'm going to leave. Which is—that's fine if you'd rather be left alone, alright, that's not a sin to need some space—but you can't talk to me like that just because something upset you."

"I'm not upset."

She shook her head. "Well you're either upset or you're just an asshole."

"You made it very clear which you thought I was."

Parker ground her teeth together, knowing that there were quite a lot of things she could say to that, but also well aware that he was baiting her. Slowly, she took a deep breath before biting out, "I'm not sorry that I called you an asshole the first time we met because you were being one. But," she continued, shifting on her feet with an even deeper sigh, "I'm sorry that I keep calling you one. Alright? It was a joke. I thought you knew that I don't really think that. Well, didn't before right now."

He said nothing.

She sighed a second time, awkwardly adjusting her purse on the crook of her shoulder.

He wasn't looking at her. In fact, he was pointedly looking anywhere but at her as her words echoed across the balcony. They could still hear music drifting from the other side of the house, the occasional crunch of tires across gravel up the driveway, the chatter of happy, drunk people from all around.

Deciding not to linger she swallowed her pride to leave.

"...alright."

She paused, glancing over at him. "Alright, you want to be alone?"

He cleared his throat, still not looking directly at her, before he gestured to her vacated seat beside him. "Alright, you can stay."

Despite his apparent humility, Parker felt her temper flare at his wording a second time.

Who did he think he was?

"Oh, how gracious of you to let me stay. Thanks."

"What do you want me to say?" he shot back, finally looking at her. There was something in his gaze she wasn't used to seeing—something hurt and angry and lonely. She couldn't understand how someone could ever feel lonely at a party thrown in his honor. Then again, Parker supposed it wasn't really in his honor, was it? Sure, it was his face plastered everywhere, but the only people that she had seen him talk to were ones asking for something. He ran a hand through his hair. "If you want to stay then stay. You don't have to be so fucking difficult about it."

"I'm not being difficult, you're just in a mood."

"I'm not—" he started to refute, tension lingering in his words, before catching himself. She watched him take a deep breath, eyes studying something she couldn't see. He gestured to the seat next to him a second time. "Just... stay, alright?"

It wasn't an apology. It wasn't even close to an apology. He didn't meet her eyes, didn't take back what he had said, didn't change his tone.

And yet for a reason she couldn't pinpoint... she stayed.

Parker took a calming breath, glancing at the picturesque sky, reminding herself of the good mood and fun she had been having moments before this conversation. When she felt her pulse return to a normal level she sat back down, purse plopped against the table with a rattling thud. Tom was playing with some frayed thread from his jeans as if she wasn't even there.

The petty part of Parker argued that was fine by her. If he wanted to play the quiet game, than she could play the quiet game.

But the other part of Parker...

Well, it felt bad for him. Which was ridiculous. He was an A-list movie star with a Beverly Hills mansion that overlooked the city hosting a gigantic party to celebrate his latest movie contract. He was constantly the center of attention, constantly being catered to, constantly having people sing his praises not caring if he treated them like he had just treated her. He had his own fan club for fuck's sake.

What did he have to be upset over?

That wasn't fair though. Parker knew it wasn't. Tom had proven time and time again that his life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine; that he didn't get to do whatever he wanted, that he wasn't the same face she saw on advertisements.

"Was it Gail?" she asked quietly.

"What?"

"You were in a good mood earlier, when you were hanging out with us. I thought so, anyway. And then she came and pulled you away and I didn't see you for a while and now you're... well, you don't seem to be enjoying the party anymore. I just—did she say something? "

He frowned, tugging extra hard on the thread. "Just leave it, Parker."

"But—"

"Please," he muttered. It was the first time she had ever heard him say that word, and though he wasn't looking at her, she was pretty sure that there was something broken beneath his golden framed glasses. "Just leave it alone."

And oh if that didn't hurt worse than his attitude.

Parker pulled a knee up to her chest, tucking her chin on it. She had worn her hair down today, silky from a blow-out that Jody had helped her with just for this occasion, and it slid against her back as a breeze kicked up. From where she had haphazardly thrown her purse a pair of napkins fluttered to the ground.

"Okay, fine, we don't have to talk about it, but this is officially boring," she said when the silence continued to stretch on. She snatched up the crumpled wad of napkins, and Tom furrowed his brow at her as she flattened them out. "Alright. When is your birthday?"

"What?"

"August thirteenth, November seventh, or January twenty-first?"

He blinked between her and the napkin. "What?"

She huffed, waving the napkin like a flag. "It's trivia. Some of them, anyways. A lot of them are some very questionable quotes that we're definitely going to discuss later. But for now we can at least we can entertain ourselves with these."

"Why did you take, like, a hundred of them?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Sticky fingers," she said, and when Tom's mouth flickered ever so slightly at the corner, she pressed on. "So, anyway, when is your birthday? August, November, or January?"

"You don't know?"

"Why would I know when your birthday is?"

He shrugged, hand dropping the thread of his pants to pass through his hair. His fringe had been mussed throughout the afternoon, clearly a sign that he did that a lot, but he didn't seem to even notice. "Because I'm—"

"Ugh, don't even finish that thought," she moaned, rolling her eyes. He really had to be joking sometimes. "I'm going to guess... August?"

Tom shifted on the couch, shooting her a strange look. "How'd you know?"

"Good luck, I guess. What does that make you? A virgo?"

"Leo."

"Ah," she nodded, pretending that was interesting news to her. Parker didn't know shit about astrology, but she had heard Melissa talk about it enough to know at thing or two. With mock seriousness, she continued, "that makes sense, I guess. Leo's are all about self-confidence and actualization. The sign of royalty. Some say that Julius Caesar was a Leo."

"Really?"

Parker shot him a look, brows arched towards her hairline. "I don't fucking know, astrology is total bullshit," she snickered, chucking the crumpled napkin at him. It fluttered into his lap, and he didn't look all that impressed at he set it onto the side table. Still, his mouth twitched again. The next napkin was stained with something pink. "What is your favorite sport? Basketball, hockey, or baseball?"

"Shouldn't I be reading the questions?"

"I'm not letting you dig through my purse, perv," she said. He looked scandalized by the comment, and when she started to laugh, Tom shook his head at her. She nudged his leg with her shoe. "Besides, they're my napkins."

"That I paid for."

She steamrolled on, pursing her mouth thoughtfully. "Well, I think basketball is a stupid sport, so not that. Mhmmm... hockey?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "...did you read these already?"

"So I'm right?" she asked, and with the grace of a sore loser, Tom pursed his mouth irritably. Parker pumped a fist in the air victoriously, wiggling her brows at him, and when his mouth crested into a smile, she waved the napkin in his face with the grace of a sore winner. "Ha! I'm starting to think we should put money down on the next one."

He forced the smile away with an eye roll. "Do you have money to bet?"

"Well... I'm sure there's a couple dollars somewhere in my purse. Colt always has at least twenty on him."

"Don't go betting your brother's money just yet, huh? These are easy questions."

"Easy?" she blustered.

"Everyone likes hockey."

"Everyone—baseball is literally an American sport! Everyone likes baseball!"

He ignored her, waving a flippant hand at her stack of napkins. Parker stuck her tongue out at him, tossing aside that question, to search for the next. Half the napkins she had stashed were ones with quotes, all of which were equally ridiculous, and she carefully set them into a pile on the table so she could take them home.

For comedic purposes, obviously. She wanted to stash them around Colt's apartment. She was pretty sure he would lose his mind if Jody thought he was secretly a Tom Ryder super fan.

Finding one that did have a question, she adjusted in her seat in anticipation. "Alright, alright, here's another one," she said. "What is Tom Ryder's favorite move? Fight Club, October Sky, or Pulp Fiction?"

Shit. She really didn't know for this one.

Parker narrowed her eyes at him, turning so they were facing one another directly, shoes wiggling as she tucked them underneath herself. He didn't give anything away; just met her steadfast through the tint of his glasses, no hints given, and when he raised a brow, she just knew that he was expecting her to fail.

"...Pulp Fiction?"

Tom made a face. "Okay, you're looking these up."

"Was that right?"

"Does the napkin have the answer?"

"What—no!"

"Well, you're cheating!"

" Ah—I'm not cheating!" she laughed just as he stretched over to grab the napkin out of her hand. The answers were on the back of the napkins, but she hadn't been looking at them. However, if he saw that, he would never believe her. So, as Tom grappled with her, shoving her free arm out of the way as her back dug into the armrest, Parker stretched as far as she could manage through an eruption of giggles. "You're going to—break my—arm! Ah!"

He was warm—always warm—as his chest pressed into hers, and when his fingers scraped the edge of the napkin, she twisted her shoulder back as far as it would go if only just to make him work for it a little bit harder.

Okay, so maybe she did like to be difficult. Sue her.

Tom pressed closer, stretching, laughing, as she wedged her knee against his chest to push. "Just give me the napkin!"

"No!"

"Because you were cheating?"

His hand skimmed the curve of her waist as he attempted to pull her entire body closer, and she shrieked from the ticklish feeling. That only had Tom trying twice as hard, aware that he was going to come out victorious, and in the energy of a little sister that never liked to lose, Parker pressed her free hand against his chest before chucking the napkin into the air. It caught on the breeze within seconds, and when it angled towards the edge of the balcony, Tom's hand tangled in her hair as he tried to grab it. Of course, she knew that was coming, and with all her might Parker wrapped her arm around his shoulder to pull him down towards her.

"No, no, no—!"

They became a tangle of limbs and laughter as he made a last ditch effort to grab the sailing napkin, and just when she thought he might snatch it, there was a rattle and the sound of a glass shattering against the floor.

They froze.

Together, they glanced down at the floor to find her glass broken in half, water seeping into the rug.

"Are you kidding—"

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, barely able to speak through the laughter racking her chest. "It's just water!"

"That's the second time."

"Both of them were your fault!"

"How was the other time my fault?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, fulling cackling now, still pressed tightly against his chest; tighter still because every time Tom laughed he edged further into her personal space. The napkin was long gone by now, but neither of them moved besides the way his hand shifted warmly along her waist. "Maybe because I wouldn't have spilled it if you hadn't scared the shit out of me!"

Tom laughed at her accusation. It was carefree, loud, head tipped back to show the curve of his neck where a necklace dangled, the silver chain cold against her own flushed skin.

"I was a little preoccupied," he defended. "And I didn't expect someone to barge in on me!"

"I didn't barge."

"You did."

"I don't barge," she continued to deflect, crinkling her nose at the word. Slowly, their laughter died down as she swallowed. "I, you know, prance. Like women do, but I definitely don't... ahem, barge."

Whatever fire she had fueling her defense seeped away as Parker finally realized just how close Tom was to her.

They were pressed tightly against one another on the small loveseat, hair mussed from their wrestling, sunglasses somewhere on the floor. She could smell his cologne from how his collarbone was exposed to her, buttons undone, skin roiling hot and tan beneath the shirt. Parker's own jean jacket was hanging off one shoulder, her own necklace tangled at the nape of her neck, chest catching with soft laughter and something else too.

She remembered the first time she had ever laid eyes on Tom.

She had been speechless from how handsome he was in real life; thinking of him only as a thing that was flaunted in advertisements and on tv, and not as a person. Then there was when she found him in Gail's bathroom, shirt gone, chest glistening with sweat and rippling muscles. When he had called her in a rough voice, when he showed up at her store to insult it and then ask for a favor, when he had driven her to Colt's birthday party with wind blowing through his fringe as they listened to Sabrina Carpenter's latest hit on the radio, the way he glowed in the firelight.

For a long time now there had been two Toms in her life. The one she met back on day one, with a huge ego and blisteringly white teeth, that she thought was an uptight asshole, who had just lashed out at her for no real reason. And then there was the one that she laughed with, teased in a way she doubted anyone else did, sharing secrets and talking about things like sci-fi books and birthday parties while they sipped coffee and beer.

And now, as she blinked up at him with flushed cheeks, she came to the startling realization that it wasn't two versions of the same person, but one person that had developed a second skin to survive a world that didn't see him as anything other than a dollar sign.

A person who was lying above her, piercing eyes drifting over the freckles on her nose to the curve of her mouth.

"Just tell me," he said.

"Tell you what?"

He swallowed, gaze pulled back up to meet her eyes. She felt weightless, as if she was drunk, but it wasn't because of the alcohol. Tom licked his lips. "Did you cheat?" he asked.

She huffed. Her breath ruffled the loose fringe on his forehead. "No," she shook her head slowly, knowing just by the look in his eye that whatever she said was important to him. "No, I didn't cheat. I just... you told me your birthday at Colt's party, and you have a hockey jersey hanging in the hallway."

"And Pulp Fiction?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I guess... it just felt like a movie you'd like."

That look from before returned; the one she couldn't decipher, that had his eyes paradoxically darkening and opening at the same time. Maybe she had been right before. Maybe he was lonely. But as Tom looked at her, breath mingling with her own, she couldn't help but hope that he was starting to realize he wasn't.

"You know you can talk to me... right?" she muttered, licking her lips. "I mean, I know you probably have plenty of other more important people in your life that you can talk to, and I'm not trying to pry, but I just hope that you know that I'm here if—"

And just like that, Tom Ryder kissed her.

[bimbocoreblonde]

S = Security for The Fall Guy I am bEGGING!!! Any character 💜

Why limit it to just one? Let's do Security for all five of my favourite Fall Guy chacters: Colt, Tom, Jody, Gail, and Dan!

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Colt:

Colt isn't super protective; not because he doesn't love you, but because he thinks you're the most competant person in the world. Just because he isn't protective generally, though, doesn't mean he's not paying attention. He'll send you questioning looks, and the moment it looks like you want help getting rid of someone, or some back up in an argument, he is there.

Also, if anyone upsets you, he is instantly ready (and extremely willing) to beat the shit out of them.

Tom:

Tom can't even look after himself, let alone you. The best he can do is make it clear to his security team that you are their first priority, then him.

That being said, he loves it when you're protective of him. When you're shooing away paparazzi, defending him on social media, or shutting down invasive questions from his 'friends', it makes him feel way more secure in your affection, knowing that you care enough for look out for him.

Jody:

Jody's protectiveness is a quiet thing - she's never open about it, but it's always really clear that no-one on set should ever even think about fucking with you now she's the director. It's never discussed, and actually you're kind of oblivious to it, but no-one ever gets a chance to upset you twice.

Also, Jody never forgets. That guy who stole the last sandwich from catering just as you were reaching for it? He applied for a job on Metalstorm. He didn't get it.

Gail:

Once you're one of Gail's people, there is no ends to what she'll do to protect you, even from the consequences of your own actions. Attempted murder? Cool. Actual manslaughter? No problem, here's a ten-step plan on how you can get away with it.

Luckily, you don't really need protecting from anything major. But that journalist who asked you a way-to-personal question at the last interview you did? Gail will ruin his career, and he'll probably never even know why.

Dan:

Dan is super protective. He's a stunt co-ordinator, he knows exactly what can go wrong in any situation, and he's always worried when you're on set that you're going to be involved in some kind of accident.

That being said, he'd never try to stop you from doing what you do. You're damned good at it, and he'd never want you to feel like he didn't believe in you. But if he watches your stunts with a closer eye, and has a fire extinguisher, first aid kit, and neck brace all close to hand...well, it's just in case.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotW - Apr 14 - 20, 2024

✒️ = Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA

BLADES OF LIGHT & SHADOW

A Discovery ✒️| Mal Volari x F!elf!MC - @thosehallowedhalls

A Stagger in the Woods ✒️| Mal Volar x F!human!MC - @thosehallowedhalls for @storyofmychoices

Safe ✒️| Mal Volari x F!human!MC - @storyofmychoices

BLOODBOUND

Lily Spencer Fanart 🎨by @bayleedraws-sometimesx

CRIMES OF PASSION

Move In Day ✒️| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @thosehallowedhalls

My Brother's Keeper ✒️Ⓜ️| Vasili Thorne, Sebastyan Thorne - @gaiuskamilah

"One Word From You and I Would" | m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @inlocusmads

Second Languages Part 2 ✒️| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @inlocusmads

Spring's Eternal ✒️| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @jerzwriter for @moominofthevalley

Trystan Thorne Fanart 🎨 by @/ohheyitsjulia (IG) C: @corynnellis)

Trystan Thorne x F!MC Fanart 🎨by @weetlebeetle (C: @peonierose for @jerzwriter)

THE CURSED HEART

Cursed Heart Fanart🎨| Thistle Bat by @bri1234

THE FRESHMAN SERIES

TFS MC 🎨 by @/ohheyitsjulia (OH) (C: @choiceswithmika)

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Gabe Adalhard & Cas Harlow Fanart 🎨 by @gaiuskamilah

Maybe Someday ✒️🏳️‍🌈 | Gabriela Adalhard x Cassie Harlow - @livelaughlovecassie

IT LIVES ANTHOLOGY

Harper x Tom Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈by @lilyoffandoms for @cadybear420

Noah Marshall Fanart 🎨by @payroo

Two Birds on a Wire ✒️| Lincoln McQuoid (Aquino) x MC - @saibug1022

The Way to Rome ✒️ by @noesapphic

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

Not My Birthday ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Various Characters - @aces-and-angels

NIGHTBOUND

Bound by Fate (Series) ✒️| Nik Ryder x F!MC - @ladylamrian Chapter 4: Lovers & Strangers

OPEN HEART

Complete Open Heart List - Week ending April 20, 2024

QUEEN B

Zoey Wade Fanart🎨by @artbyalz

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Forevermore (Series) ✒️ | King Marquise (Liam) x F!MC - @khoicesbyk Chapter 5: Joy of Winter

CROSSOVERS

TFS / TRR

The Royal Romance Crew's Point of View Chapter 2 ✒️ by @choiceswithmika

TRR / Platinum / OH / CoP / TNA

Isle of Misfits (Round Robin)✒️ | Multiple Stories | Liam Rys, Leo Rys - @twinkleallnight Chapter 10: Dealing With the Paparazzi

TRR / ROE

Marabelle (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!OC - @tessa-liam Chapter 11: The Game of Kings 2

[impossibleheartflower]

Fuck Zionist, racist, ableist, xenophobes, homophobes, transphobes, sexist, and Nazis

Free Palestine 🇵🇸 free congo 🇨🇩 free Sudan 🇸🇩

Hey! You can call me Marie but my friends call me mj! I'm bisexual and 19 turning 20 in August (August 8th to be more specific and I'm only saying this bc I'm so excited because not only will it be my birthday but the last season of the umbrella academy is also on the same day <3) I really am just here to have fun and read fanfics 💕 and honestly I don't even know what to say most of the time (I've been known to be very shy and sensitive) but I am really interested in what others have to say and please stay positive :)

What fandoms in in:

Peaky blinders (2013-2022) Umbrella academy (2019-2024)

Outer banks (2020-) Yellowjackets (2021-)

The wilds (2020-2022) You (2018-2024)

Scream franchise, Chucky franchise, saw franchise, the Hunger games franchise, the re-animator trilogy

Anything with Paul dano, Rory Culkin, tom Blyth, Simu Liu, Erik Knudsen, jack Rowan, cillian Murphy, Aaron Taylor Johnson, Brian Tyree Henry, Nicola coughian, Winona Ryder, Zoey Deutsch, kat graham, ana Taylor joy, lupita nyong'o, lily Gladstone, Stephanie Hsu, and Melissa Barrera 💕

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

Summary: Tom makes stupid stupid decisions.

Prompt: "Shut up. It's not like you can say anything other than my name, anyways."

Warnings: taking drugs (cocaine), please don't read if drugs/using drugs makes you uncomfortable in any way! It isn't descriptive but always take care of yourselves and your mental health first and foremost 🫶 !!

TOM RYDER MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

Being Tom Ryder's girlfriend is fun. He is fun. He has all the money in the world and an enormous ego to match. Usually, this means he's generous with his money—at least with you —but that also means he's irresponsible and spends a shit ton of dollars on stupid things. 

Stupid things like drugs. 

"Are you fuckin' shitting me right now, Tom?" you hiss, raising your hands in exasperation as you glare at him. "Seriously?!"

Tom sits on his couch, looking scolded with fresh coke sprinkled across his fancy glass coffee table in front of him. He sniffs his nose and runs a hand underneath it, glaring right back at you. 

"What are you, my mommy? Give it up."

"I'll fucking smack you, Tom Ryder," you growl and brush the remaining coke away from the table with your palm, spreading it on the carpet and rendering it unusable. This causes Tom to whine about the wasted money and try and grab your arm. You shove him away from you with a scandalized expression. 

"Don't touch me!"

"C'mon, baby," he whines again, the drugs already causing him to act loosely. You shake your head and push past him, storming up to your shared bedroom.

You feel stupid and alone. He'd promised you he would quit. You've never felt like such a fool.

Tom's sloppy footsteps are obvious as he rushes upstairs after you. He stumbles into the room and sees you lying on your stomach, your arms wrapped around the pillow. The bed dips when he sits next to you and his hand comes to pet your hair. 

"My darling," he slurs and sniffles again, "I'm sorry. Y/n," he says, his mind turning fuzzy. "Y/n, Y/n, please, Y/n."

"Oh, shut up, it's not like you can say anything other than my name, anyways," you snap at him, catching him off guard by the harshness in your tone. 

"Oh yeah?" Tom flips you over, caging you in as he hovers over you. 

You turn your head and shut your eyes. "Don't kiss me when you're like this. I'm pissed at you."

Even in his fuzzy state, he listens and sighs. "I'm sorry you're mad at me." Whatever amount of the drug he has taken is now making him feel tired as he slumps next to you, burying his face in the sheets as he hums. You watch him from the corner of your eye, sensing his distress. You know what he's like and as much as you don't want to provide him with any form of comfort now, you can't exactly help yourself.

You roll your eyes and scoot over, pulling him into you as you hold him and kiss his forehead. 

"I hate you, you dumbass," you whisper and soothe your hand over his muscled arm. 

"I love you," Tom whispers back, feeling content if not currently becoming high as hell.

tags: @tansgirlfriend, @earth-elemental18

[lost-pen-name]

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

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

Word count: 2320

Warnings: mild spice, kissing

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

{ kiss me when nobody’s watching }

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

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

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

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

Right now, it was definitely the first.

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

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

“No, I don’t want to.” Is he pouting?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I enjoyed myself immensely.”

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

“No, you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lqrlei]

to whoever has already made tom ryder and sergei kravinoff fanfics i thank you for your service

[happy74827]

And… Action?

[Colt Seavers x Actress!Reader]

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

WC: 1121

Category: Mega Fluff, Suggestive Ending?

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

『••✎••』

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

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

Until he bumped into you, quite literally.

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

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

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

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

"What?" you asked, surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You do?"

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

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

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

But Colt, though…

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

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

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

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

Well, this is definitely promising.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A stuntman running lines?

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

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

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

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

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘺𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦

Tom Ryder x Fem!Reader

◢ Genre: Headcanons — Suitable For Adults Only

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

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

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

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

The man is narcissistic and not at the same time.

He's got an ego for days.

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

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

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

When you and Tom started dating, it was unexpected.

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

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

That note he didn't forget.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe the notes are a good thing.

It becomes a small form of communication between you two.

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck babe. You feel so good."

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

The man has his moments of being vanilla.

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

He's always willing to try something new.

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

The guy has a praise kink for days.

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

"Say it again babe. Louder."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't want them hitting on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ATJ Taglist: @voxmortuus @earth-elemental18

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