#let’s be real these have not been in my camera roll for a very long time

[s0livagant]

Sav clears out her (drafts) camera roll: Jake pt. 55

[honeyvenommusic]

.

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

[dazednmatthews]

number neighbor!matt x reader: semi face to face (part four point five)

the thrum of the facetime ring had y/n very rightfully shitting bricks.

it wasn’t that she was scared of matt, nor would she ever let him know what she really thought of him, but the thought of finally talking to him semi-face to face was something that sent a weird hum through her veins.

they’d been talking for close to three weeks now, annoying him becoming a quintessential part of her days. she wouldn’t admit it to him, but she liked matt. as a friend. he was funny, and despite what she constantly told him, he wasn’t boring at all. she would have stopped trying a long time ago if he was.

on the third ring, matt picks up. the lighting in his room is warm, pale yellow filling her screen. the motherfucker is laid in bed, shirtless of course, hair fluffy and curling into his eyes.

it makes her sick to her god damn stomach the way the silver chain sits on his collarbones. and the way she can see stubble aligning his jaw. and the way the blanket just barely covers his chest. she wants to hang up.

she’d lost her ability to speak suddenly, so when matt raises an eyebrow, she knows he’s about to start something with her. “hello?” he draws out the ‘o’. “are you going to say something or am i gonna talk to myself during this?”

it’s enough to snap her out of whatever the fuck trance he had her in. “it’s been twenty seven seconds and i already wanna hang up.”

he smirks slightly, “i think that’s a lie.”

“whatever,” she grumbles. “why don’t you have any clothes on? classless.”

“i have pants on. wanna see?” y/n holds her hand up to the camera, flipping her middle finger. matt laughs. it’s a nice laugh. oh fuck. “am i distracting you?”

“i will hang up if you start this shit again.”

“fine, fine.” matt sits up slightly, angling the camera more on his face. he leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. “let me see your room.”

y/n is sitting at her desk, avoiding open makeup bottles and random pens strewn about. she shrugs, flipping the camera. her room is filled to the brim with things. her walls are covered in posters; from her favorite horror movies and icons and just films in general to her favorite musicians. she even has a funny minion poster in the corner that her best friend got her for a gag gift. she loves it just the same though.

“other than that fucking minion poster,” matt rolls his eyes. “you kind of have good taste.”

she scoffs. “kind of? bye. my taste is impeccable.”

matt eyes the poster right next to her closet door. “you like mac miller?”

she nods fondly. “he’s one of my favorite artists.”

something in his voice changes. “me too.”

“you wanna be me so damn bad. it’s flattering.”

it’s matt’s turn to scoff. “i actually couldn’t think of anything worse.”

y/n ignores him, giving him the full tour. she shows him the extent of her cd collection, which he of course, has something to say about all the disney channel soundtracks. she simply states that, “good music knows no bounds. it’s not my fault shake it up had the best ghost writers.” and yeah, matt does laugh at that.

she shows him the various pieces of art her sister has drawn her, which he’s actually really loves. they bicker about whether or not astrology is real, again, when she shows him her crystal collection. predictably, it ends up with her calling him a bastard and him telling her she’s insane a thousand times.

when she gets to her book case, he looks surprised. “you read?” his eyes are scanning the screen. “those are all yours?”

y/n’s face twists at the borderline insult. “are you calling me fucking stupid or something?”

“no!” he sounds kind of frantic. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just meant i didn’t know you enjoyed books like that.”

she shrugs, flipping the camera back to her and sitting back at her desk. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me, matt.”

she pretends to find something interesting in her reflection, not seeing matt’s eyes turn slightly soft. “yeah. i see.”

when it’s his turn to show his room, y/n’s surprised at how clean it is. there’s a bed and a desk with a monitor, headphones next to the keyboard. his bed is big and looks comfy, dark red silk sheets on it. it makes something in her stomach flip. she tells it to shut the hell up.

she teases him for the few stuffed animals he has on his bed. “aww, matt. you big softie.”

“yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever. they’re cute.”

“mr. tough guy, making room on his bed for his plushies. adorable.”

“go to hell, y/n.”

there’s not really much else in there but a couple framed pictures, so it’s over pretty quick. and when it is, something weird happens. the two sit on the phone, for hours. they talk about any and everything, bicker about the same things and tell each other more about themselves. y/n learns that he has the cutest little dog named trevor, he also likes to read from time to time and that he’s obsessed with watching tv.

she tells him about her parents and how they aren’t as close anymore, her siblings and how she wishes she could see them more and that she has an unhealthy attachment to word searches.

it’s nice, she decides.

it only ends when there’s a bang at matt’s door, followed by it flinging open. “matt, can you take me to the gas station? i want twizzlers.” one of his brothers says.

the other one flops down next to him on his bed, poking matt in the stomach. “i need chips in my system, like now.”

matt closes his eyes and sighs. “you both are so fucking annoying.” he turns to the side. “i’m on the god damn phone.”

the middle one in that one picture matt sent, chris she thinks, pokes his head into the frame. “oh shit, is that the girl that you’ve been texting?”

the other triplet, nick, let’s out a laugh. “you mean the one he never shuts the fuck up about-“ and suddenly the audio is cut off and matt is out of his bed.

y/n is taken aback by the statement. matt talks about her to his brothers? she would definitely be putting that in her back pocket for later.

she watches matt leave his own room and hears the sound come back. “i’ve gotta go, y/n. they’ll only get more annoying and i don’t feel like cleaning up a crime scene if i kill them.”

she smiles in amusement. “that’s fine, i should probably finish my laundry anyway.”

there’s a moment of silence and then she can hear the smirk in his voice way before she sees it. “yeah i noticed. do you wash that pair of lacy black underwear on your floor on delicate or regu-“

“goodbye, matthew!”

her face heats up as she presses the end call button, cutting off his maniacal laughter.

as y/n sits in silence for a second after he’s gone, she wonders if matt felt the shift between them just as much as she did.

a/n: yes the inspo is the still of matt from the new tiktok cause that shit got me soooo bad. anyway hope you guys liked this!

TAGLIST:

@sturnioloco @peachmels @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @ilovechrisssturniolo @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez

[pinkcarnatixns]

georgia stanway | flowers for vases

synopsis georgia does her first tattoo on you, it leads to a confession after of years of feelings [1.6K] contents best friends to lovers, nervous georgia, tattooing, mentions of needles

You normally took pride in your fearlessness when it came to adding to your growing collection of ink on your skin, but now you were completely petrified.

When Georgia had first approached you to be her canvas for her very first tattoo on real skin, you had immediately agreed- your haste chalked up to a trust built on years of friendship and definitely not the fact you’d do anything she asked. 

What your sometimes scatterbrained best friend had forgotten to mention was that this was not a private affair, but a moment that was going to be televised for all the nation to see. Of course, this meant that you’d have to act like you weren’t completely smitten with the woman-  in front of a bunch of cameras while you tried to not blush at her hands on you. 

Safe to say, you were quite ticked off with Georgia when you first arrived at the small tattoo studio’s address, only to be greeted with people rushing filming equipment inside the building from a van with a big ‘BBC’ plastered on the side. When you entered the studio with a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms, her face clearly dropped as she realized her mistake, rushing over to your side. 

“I completely forgot to mention the filming part, didn’t I?” She pouts at you, grabbing a hold of your bicep to plead her case.

You sighed, “You know, I really thought this was a sweet gesture of trust between us, not to get you a big check from the BBC.”

At your jest, she deflated even further and you struggled to stop your lips from quirking up at her dramatics. You could never stay mad at her for very long, especially when she made you laugh just by being in the same room as her. Still, you were a bit mortified at the possible outing of your feelings for the girl being broadcast to the world, so you tried your best to hold your ground. 

“It’s not like that at all! You know there’s nobody else I’d rather share this with, I swear!” She held onto your biceps tightly, and you felt your resolve washing away like a sand castle with the wave of her cologne that hit your nose. 

Her hands were trembling lightly, and at her gaze and proximity you quickly turned shy, only managing to mumble out, “You don’t mind sharing it with everyone in the nation, clearly.” 

However, taking pity on her already clearly fried nerves, you followed the snark up with a playful eye roll and returned her gaze. “Well, since I’m here, let’s see what you’re going to put on my body forever.” 

Her already big brown eyes seemed to light up at your compliance, and she gently pulled on your forearms to uncross them with a blinding smile. She effortlessly initiated the intertwining of your hands, nearly dragging your shocked form to the ground with her fervor to show you what she had drawn. 

She got shy as you both approached her already prepped little work table, going quiet as you peered down at the paper and leaning into your body for comfort. The warmth that spread through your body at your still entwined hands creeped all the way up to your ears at what she had designed just for you: a little broken flower vase. 

When you two had first met as kids, Georgia, persistent to impress you with her football skills- had wrongly decided to do so inside your house. When this naturally ended in the broken heirloom, and your mother’s harsh scolding, you had taken the fall for the overexcitable girl. She had been inconsolable at the mess she had caused, promising to make up for it someday. To this day, she still felt guilty for the incident while you often brought it up, joking that she was only still by your side to repay her debt. 

Through all the growing pains and hard times, you had stuck by each other’s sides. Even when you got into fights, one of you would always bring up the vase as an olive branch, knowing that it really meant that you could never get rid of one another. 

Your eyes got misty, your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the hustle and bustle around you two, “Georgia, that’s so sweet- you sap.”

“You really like it? Don’t lie.” Her hand nervously fiddled with the rings that adorned yours, both of you refusing to meet each other’s eyes. In a moment of bravery, you pecked her on the cheek and rested your head on her slightly taller shoulder. 

“I love it. Can’t wait to have it on me forever.” You punctuated the genuine words with a squeeze to your intertwined hands, hoping to calm her nerves with the action. 

She stumbled a bit over her sentence, before forcing it out nearly too fast for you to catch it, “There’s three flowers on one side and then one on the other. Y’know like 31, like my number at Bayern.”

Your head jumped off your shoulder, gaping at her as she was locked in a staring contest with the table- cheeks red like she had just played a full 90. With your heartbeat nearly breaking at the confines of your ribcage, you decided to lean into the moment, tripping over your words a bit but whispering. “That’s perfect. I like it even more now.”

At your reassurance, she shyly met your sincere gaze, struggling to keep a goofy smile subdued as you nodded at each other.

Your little bubble was broken when a crew member called for her presence, apologizing for interrupting as he dragged her over for an interview. You watched on with hearts in your eyes as she spoke to the camera, her sincere appreciation for the art shining through with every word and the sparkle in her eye. Caught up in watching her, you barely realized when they had wrapped up, rushing over to her side after missing your name being called a couple times.  

They perched you up on a stool for her to place the stencil on your calf, sighing in relief as it peeled off exactly as she wanted it. She gently held your hand to help you down, using it to guide you over to the table while instructing you to lay down comfortably.

When she actually starts dancing the needle over your skin and attempting to answer questions at the same time, she clearly struggles. Nearly every time she punctures your flesh, she can’t help but look to you for your reaction- scared to hurt you. You try not to laugh as her sentences trail off again and again as she continually locks eyes with you, knowing she’s going to make the editor’s job a nightmare. As she nears finishing, you try to shoot her encouraging smiles, wishing you could tell her how good she was doing if not for the mics that would pick it up. 

The tattoo takes quite long for how simple the design is, partly due to her insistence on doing everything right, stopping for the littlest things. It’s sweet that she’s so adamant to not hurt you or have the ink blow out, but it’s pretty comical and clear that the camera crew is getting antsy. You are happy to sit for as long as she needs, content with the heat of her palm through her gloves soothing the ache of the needle, but try to silently encourage her in order to get everyone out on time. 

As she takes the final swipe of a paper towel over your skin and declares that she’s finished with a shaky breath, the first thing she does is to once again look at you. She visibly relaxes as you send her a beaming smile, taking your hands to move you to sit upright. You admire her work as she turns to give you her water bottle, watching you like a hawk as you take a sip.

You get shy at her attention, “I’m not going to pass out you know, I’m literally covered in tattoos already.”

“You’re really feeling alright? We can take pictures after you have a second, yeah?” 

“Georgia really, you look much more lightheaded than me. You did great, I promise.” As you try to scoot off the bench, her hands stop you- pinning your thighs to the table. The position forces her to lean closer to you, putting you at eye level with one another. She has a certain determination in her eyes, but is clearly quite mortified at the proximity her actions have caused.

Still, with her big brown eyes boring into yours, slightly rough palms on your naked thighs, and the slight dizziness that you do feel- you look around the room to see everyone busy packing up before you do something drastic. As you turn back to her soft gaze, a slight tilt to her head and a quick glance at your lips is all the encouragement you need. 

Your hands cover hers, desperate for something to ground you as you lean in to peck her lips. At your slight movement, she excitedly surges forward and you clash much harder than you had expected. 

Pulling away, you’re both reduced to hysterics at the release of the tension that the day caused, and for finally giving in to a moment to had both waited for all your lives. Who knew it would take her marking you forever for you both to make a move.

a/n: wow so sorry I have not uploaded in forever! midterms absolutely kicked my butt and then I was celebrating my birthday! anyways I'm not super happy with this but I hope yall enjoyed <3

my requests are still open and i will really try to be much quicker in getting to them lol

[karajaynetoday]

hey now, you're an all-star | jack hughes

it took one month of watching hockey for me to write fic. lmao. classic. good vibes.

thank you @littledrummeraussie for proofreading, love you angie 💖

READ PART TWO HERE

READ PART THREE HERE

word count: 2.8k

Warnings:  i don't think it needs any? just forgive my limited knowledge of hockey and canada i suppose? mentions of anxiety related to university? it's a bit angsty bc let's be real, do i ever know how to write anything else?

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

You’d known Jack Hughes for as long as you could remember. He stood up for you in the playground at kindergarten, when a bigger kid pushed you off the swings; you returned the favour by saving him from a spider on his backpack. Ever since, you’d always had each other’s backs. 

And for as long as you’d known Jack, you’d been able to tell when he was upset about something. His lips did this thing, not quite a pout, but nowhere near the easy smile you were used to seeing. He’d pull his sleeves down over his hands, and his breathing would be… deeper, somehow. He could never meet your gaze, either. 

You were scrolling through Instagram on your couch at home, where you were supposed to be studying, when you saw a video of Jack from the Devils fundraiser event, answering media questions about his injury and when he’d be back on the ice. He laughed and smiled for the cameras, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They asked about the all-star game, and you could feel his hesitation in answering. Jack tried to be positive and assure everyone that he had a chance of playing, but you both knew that wasn’t very likely. 

You sent the video to Jack with a comment bagging out his hairstyle, hoping to lift his mood a little, before dropping your phone onto the couch and drawing your attention back to the economics case study you were supposed to be analysing. 

You’d stayed in Toronto for university, while Jack headed off to New Jersey after his draft year. Long distance friendship took a lot of getting used to, but at least you were still in the same timezone, and the NHL schedule meant that Jack was contractually obliged to visit you a few times each year. Quinn too, despite how much he complained about the intensity of hockey mania in Toronto. In fact, the entire Hughes family sometimes made the trek, which you knew your parents not-so-secretly loved. It reminded you of the warmth you felt growing up in each other’s homes, filled with laughter and joy.

The little focus you had for your economics homework was broken when your phone began to vibrate beside you, Jack’s name flashing on the screen. You rolled your eyes with a smile, before leaning over to answer the video call. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” You greeted your best friend, who was already scowling at you. 

“Is it a good morning, though? When all I do is get criticism from my supposed best friend?” 

“It’s not criticism, more… encouragement, I’d say.” You teased back, Jack rolling his eyes at you.

“Encouraging what, exactly?”

“Encouraging you to make better personal style choices, especially related to hair. You are a millionaire, after all. Least you can do is get a decent haircut.” 

“Oh, my apologies. Didn’t realise I was getting encouragement from the queen of high fashion. Is that a coffee stain on that shirt?” Jack’s eyes glanced down at what little he could see of your outfit in the video call, before poking his tongue out at you.

“Hey, I’m a university student. This is high fashion, I’ll have you know. Anyway, why aren’t you at training?” You asked, cocking your head to the side in curiosity. 

Jack’s lips pressed together, and he looked away from his phone and you; you silently cursed yourself for asking the question. Even though Jack had been injured, he’d been pretty dedicated to his rehab and recovery, so it was a little odd for him to be calling you in the morning rather than be at a physio session. 

“More scans this afternoon so no session this morning. Trying to decide if I can play next weekend or if I just have to show up and look pretty.” Jack tried to joke, but you could tell that it wasn’t something he found humour in. 

“Good thing that looking pretty comes naturally to you, J.” 

“Oh, so now I’m pretty? I thought I had shit hair?!”

“You can both be a pretty face and have shit hair, buddy. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Mutually exclusive? Is that a fancy term you learnt at school?” 

You laughed at that, earning a Jack smile in return. You continued chatting back and forth for another 30 minutes or so, before Jack had to go to his scans. 

You managed to get through the rest of your economics homework, but your mind kept wandering back to Jack and his frustration at being injured. He’d been an All-Star before, so it wasn’t that specifically he was frustrated about missing, you were certain. The difference this year was Quinn’s selection in the All-Star weekend, and the building anticipation around so-called “Team Hughes” that would see Jack and Quinn on the same team for the first time in their NHL careers. That’s probably what Jack was upset about, because as much as they chirp each other and are fiercely competitive, there’s nothing Jack Hughes loves more than his brothers. You knew that he’d be in his head overthinking everything and convincing himself that he was letting Quinn down, somehow, despite it being beyond his control. 

The only further communication you got from Jack that day was a thumbs-down text message, which told you all you needed to know. You were sporadically in touch a few times throughout the week, and before you knew it, it was the day everyone was flying in for All-Star weekend.

You’d managed to persuade your parents that a full-blown neighbourhood party was not necessary, and instead convinced them to accept Quinn’s invitation to a lowkey but nice dinner downtown near the hotel where he and Jack were staying. The dinner was something you were looking forward to all week, but you hadn’t anticipated two things: accidentally deleting half your economics essay the night before it was due and having to stay up until 3am to finish it; and the butterflies that you were feeling when you were getting ready for dinner. Why on earth were you so nervous? Seeing Jack and Quinn after a while was usually something that excited you, not stressed you out. 

You had just pulled on your dress and finished wrangling your hair when your phone pinged with a message from Jack. 

Have you looked at the menu for this place? We need to order a side of the loaded mac n cheese pls and thx 

I thought you were a high performance athlete? But of course, mac n cheese is a MUST

Correct, my body is a temple. A temple of mac n cheese. Mac is a carb, cheese is calcium for my bones. Winners all around. See ya soon x

Xo

It was freezing outside, so you took an Uber from your university apartment to the restaurant. You were running behind, thanks to traffic, and then you almost toppled over on the pavement outside due to the wet weather. Between that and your sleep deprivation, you honestly wanted nothing more than to go home, put your pyjamas on and cry; but you plastered a smile on your face and headed inside the restaurant. 

The hostess greeted you warmly, and offered to take your coat once you established that your parents had already arrived and were seated on a table towards the back of the restaurant, and you could see the backs of Jack and Quinn as you approached them. Everyone stood up to greet you with hugs and kisses, and the butterflies sparked again when Jack pulled out the chair next to his for you to sit down. Jack and Quinn both had nice sweaters on with collared shirts, and you were quietly glad you’d decided to wear a dress rather than the jeans you’d initially picked out. 

“How did your essay go, sweetheart? I know economics isn’t your favourite…” Your mother enquired, obviously unaware of your crisis the night before. 

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of the diet coke in front of you (that Jack must’ve ordered for you, no doubt) before mumbling something about getting it sorted and hoping for the best. Your dad swiftly changed the subject to the weekend’s festivities, excitedly asking Quinn about his plans for the All-Star draft, but you could feel Jack’s eyes on you. You met his gaze and subtly shook your head, silently asking for him to save his questions for later. Jack frowned at you, but complied. 

The dinner felt like it went quickly, but also went for hours. Your stomach hurt from laughing (and probably too much mac and cheese), as Jack and Quinn regaled your parents with stories of their seasons and their plans for the next summer off in Michigan, where your two families would join each other for a month or so of adventures. You found yourself smiling as your dad and the Hughes brothers comically argued over who would pay the bill, before Jack excused himself to the bathroom and sneakily paid the bill on his way there. 

Jack and Quinn’s hotel was walking distance from the restaurant, and they excitedly invited you and your parents to come and see the fancy suite they’d been gifted for the weekend. Your mother made some excuse about traffic on the drive home and promised to come and see it some other time, but nudged you in your side as she told you to go and check it out. You were so tired and ready for bed, but reluctantly agreed; your window of opportunity to spend time with Jack was closing, so you figured you may as well make the most of it.

The butterflies in your stomach flitted around as Jack helped you into your coat before you headed outside the restaurant and bid your parents farewell. You fell into step in between the brothers as they traipsed back toward the hotel, conversation flowing easily as Quinn asked about your college classes and you asked him about the latest book he was reading. Jack was silent as you walked the few blocks before arriving at the hotel, and he gently placed his hand onto your back as you were guided through the hotel front door and into the elevator. 

Your jaw dropped when Quinn swiped his key card and you all entered the hotel suite. They weren’t joking about it being fancy, holy shit. 

The floor to ceiling windows had incredible views of the city skyline, with a very comfortable looking couch in the living area facing the view. Two doors at either side of the living room lead to bedrooms with luxurious linens, and the marble bathrooms were impeccably finished. 

Jack was grinning as he watched you take it all in, leaning up against the door frame to his bedroom as you stood near the window and gaped at the views. Quinn had flopped down on the couch and was texting on his phone. 

“Can they gift this to you year-round? I’d like to live here…” You mused, shaking your head at how insane this hockey lifestyle could be. 

“We could probably just buy it for you.” Jack said nonchalantly, as he wandered over to stand beside you at the window. 

“Yeah, if you want. They’d probably charge us more because I’m a Canuck, though.” Quinn deadpanned, earning a laugh from you and an eye-roll from Jack.

“Speaking of, the guys are all catching up in Petey’s room, so I think I’ll head down there. See you tomorrow after the draft, sugar plum.” Quinn pulled you into a hug, and your heart burst at him using your childhood nickname (which came from one ill-fated ballet performance and you insisted you hated, but secretly loved being called). 

You could’ve sworn you saw Quinn wink at Jack before he left the hotel room, but then again, the sleep deprivation could also be sending you loopy. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Jack asked, moving to stand behind you and loop his arms around your waist as you still faced the window. Your heart rate shot through the roof as he pulled you closer, and nestled his head in between your neck and shoulder. You cringed as you realised he could probably feel your pulse beating fast. 

“Sure, but no blaming me if I fall asleep on you, sorryyyyy.” You awkwardly maneuvered yourself out of Jack’s embrace and walked over to the couch, sitting down on it and removing your shoes. 

“The first time we’ve seen each other in MONTHS and you’re going to fall asleep? Am I that boring? Sheesh.” Jack drawled, watching you from where he stood.

“Yes.” You stuck your tongue out at him, but lost it to a yawn which made you both laugh. 

“You know I love you, J. I would happily pull an all-nighter with you, but I don’t think two in a row is probably good for me.”

“Two in a row? What, where you out partying hard last night?” Jack’s voice trailed off as he wandered off into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. You heard a drawer open and a light thud onto the floor, and your throat tightened when you realised Jack was changing his clothes. God, you’d gotten changed in front of each other a million times. Why was your brain making everything so weird tonight?

“Not quite. Had a disaster that involved accidentally deleting my entire essay, sobbing for an hour, then staying up until 3am to write the whole thing. Living the dream, as per usual.” You rattled off, trying to sound nonchalant about, even though just thinking about last night made you nauseous with anxiety. Your nonchalance was clearly unconvincing, as Jack came back out of the bedroom clad in a hoodie and sweats and bee-lined for you, his face covered in concern. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s fine, I promise. All part of the college experience.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or Jack more. He couldn’t either, but instead of pushing the issue, he threw a hoodie at your head and laughed when you looked offended. 

“I’m definitely falling asleep if I put this on, by the way. You know I love being cozy. Cozy is my natural state of being.” You pulled your hair up into a loose bun using the hair tie on your wrist, before pulling the black Devils hoodie over your head. 

Jack slotted himself beside you on the couch and reached his arm over your shoulders, finding the remote with his other hand and navigating the ridiculously large TV onto Netflix. 

“Fine by be, sugarplum. I’d rather know you’re getting sleep here than send you home to stress yourself out more.”  Jack mused, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your arm while he found the latest season of a TV show you both loved to watch and pressed play.

“I’m not stres - it was just one essay - I promise I’m fine.” You sputtered, tripping over your words when Jack locked eyes with you, his gaze empathetic but all-knowing. 

“Besides, I’m not the only one in the room worth worrying about.” You said softly, nudging Jack’s side gently. Jack rolled his lips between his teeth, and sighed; he put down the remote and pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands. 

“But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You’re not letting anyone down, though. Quinn doesn’t think that.” You continued, softly, not wanting to cause tension. 

Jack sighed deeply again and pulled his arm away from you, leaning forward and rubbing his face with both hands. 

“You don’t know what Quinny’s thinking, sugar. And it’s not just Quinn, it’s the fucking journalists, and Bratter’s vacation being ruined, and goddamn Michael Bublé being disappointed in me, and - just - fucking all of it.” Jack exhaled deeply, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

You didn’t know what to say, because you could tell that Jack wasn’t in a mood that you could talk him down out of. But you could tell he needed comfort, needed reassurance, needed to know that you still had his back. Ever since kindergarten. 

You grabbed the back of Jack’s hoodie and gently tugged it, and he leaned back against the couch. You tapped Jack’s legs next, and he moved them up onto the other side of the L-shaped couch, so he was properly reclining. You paused, trying to figure out how to position yourself without being literally on top of Jack, but while your brain was running a million miles a minute, Jack’s hand found yours and yanked you towards him gently. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before adjusting yourself between Jack’s body and the side of the couch. Jack’s arm found a home over your hips and settled gently on your stomach, pulling your back against his chest. You felt his breath on your neck as you both wriggled around, trying to get comfortable.

 

“Is this okay, sugar?” Jack’s voice was barely a whisper, directly into your ear. You didn’t trust your voice not to squeak a response so you simply nodded, trying desperately to calm your fast beating heart.

You rested your hand on top of Jack’s and gently squeezed, feeling yourself starting to lull to sleep. Despite the butterflies and your heart jumping out of your chest, you somehow had never felt more at peace, right in this moment.

This was safe, this was calm. This was home. 

[beiasluv]

cillian murphy and his ‘daughter-figure’

a/n: i can never make myself write for people in real life with a romantic interest, sorry 😩 but i won’t deny to reading allat. no proof reads :)

enjoy!

cillian had taken you under his wings (awh) a long, long time ago

thankfully, christopher nolan approve of your acting and accepted you for a movie, allowing you to meet him for the first time

becoming the youngest constant actress to be featured in nolan’s multiverse

several years later, you are, once again, walking on the red carpet with your on screen ‘father figure’

oppenhiemer ofc

walking along the red carpet, camera flashed at you and your drop-dead gorgeous outfit for the event. making sure to look around to catch every news headlines, you see flo and emily waving at you. wasting no time, you rushed to your favorite girlies.

“hii,” flo and emily enveloped you into her embraces and kisses.

“my darling, y/n, how’ve you been?”

giggling about the latest girl talk, complimenting flo on her haircut and outfit, and a little bit sprinkle of girls touch up, a third hand wrapped around your shoulders and you turned around to see those set of blue eyes.

“cill!”

“hello, darling,” without a second thought, cillian smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. not too tight but not too insecure, just the perfect spot.

liked by florencepugh, roberdowneyjr, and others

yourinsta thank you. xoxo

cillian is just a sweet soul in general

he could get protective if you were rubbed off in a wrong way

if the interviewer ask weird questions, he won’t hesitate to throw hands

he also loves going out with you just for bonding purposes

movies, restaurants, or just going out with his kids

his wife definitely adores you

his kids definitely see you as their sister

a 100 percent some photo booths sessions with him

“ok, pose now!” you looked at the camera while making a serious face, which cillian mirrored. a funny face and a silly face precedes.

“how do you click this ancient photobooth? cill!”

liked by ynnumberonefan, florencepugh, and others

yourinsta thanks for paying for mi lunch ;)

jessepas NO WAY y/n convinced cillian to do photo booths with her

kanHK trust me! cillian def convinced her 😭

gagahi imagine getting your lunch payed by emily, rdj, cillian, matt, and JOHN?

ynwifie Y/N pleaseeee i can pay for your lunchhh

view all 48,922 comments

you are feeding cillian fans with post and pictures. (come on, we are starving)

dancing to tiktoks with cillian in the background smiling <3

you can never do interviews with cillian and never laugh

it. is. impossible.

he’s just very funny in private and ‘the’ dead face humor

“three, two, one, rolling!”

“hello- cillian,” chuckling as you see cillian staring off into the distance again.

“oh- hello,” he smiled. “i am cillian murphy.”

“and i am y/n l/n, and we are here for…”

what is your favorite scene with cillian?

“are we talking about oppenheimer or just everything?” you chuckled and took a swift glance at cillian who was grinning at you.

“just in anything, anything that comes to your mind”

“wow…” poking your tongue a little bit out while you were thinking. “i…don’t know…not- not because i don’t have one but it is a journey back, you know?” smiling at the interviewer.

“we take a long way back,” cillian added while he looked over to you. “i remember meeting her when she was just a little kid in the batman trilogy.”

“i- i was young, yes,” letting out a soft laugh, you thought again.

“um…I honestly don’t know which one to pick,” you chuckled. “i’ll say my favorite one is in inception, it just amazes me how cillian delivers his emotional, tear-jerking scenes, and we got to do a lot of amazing, humorous stunts.”

“cillian doesn’t take compliments very well, does he?”

the comment made you look over to your fellow actor and saw him smiling at you and shaking his head. you laughed and adjusted your position in the chair, “irish people doesn’t take it very well, he will just turn invisible if you keep complimenting him.”

are you going to go watch barbie?

cillian smiled and glanced slowly at you, “ask her.”

“a 100% will do. as a matter of fact, i already went to watch it,” you said proudly and giggled.

“oh really? how was it?”

“it was really, really good. i wasn’t expecting to cry but…you can ask him,” you pointed at cillian who couldn’t hold his chuckle in any longer.

“so you two went to watch it together? wow-”

“yes,” cillian smiled sheepishly. “a lovely movie, made y/n cried, very touching,” cillian chuckled.

“no spoilers but- the ending scene was super tear jerking but the end credits made me confused whether I should laugh or cry,” you laughed at your memories of going to watch barbie with cillian.

what do you have each other on the phone as?

“this is going to be so embarrassing,” you fake groaned and chuckled, while digging for your phone in your dress.

“also girls, this dress has pockets. amazing,” cillian and the interviewer gained a few chuckles. you fished out your phone and unlocking it with a few swipes, and opened the contact app, scrolling to the ‘c’ sections.

“i…have him as ‘cilly shelby’,” cillian went wide eyes and look at the screen of your phone.

cillian grinned and leaned back on his chair, “i saved her as y/n and a smiley face emoji.”

“aw what? that is so nice, i feel so bad now”

one thing about the person next to you?

“cillian, cillian, cillian. i would say he is very caring and an astonishing actor, performer,” you says while putting your hands to your heart.

“no- you are”

“irish modesty, people,” you faked rolled your eyes at him, while mockingly patting him.

“he’s great, just a very supportive…i wouldn’t say brother but i don’t wanna say father figure as well, even though we played a lot of father-daughter roles together,” you laughed at your own response, fixing your hair.

biting your lips, you pondered, “ah, i would say an…‘uncle figure’.”

“what?” cillian chuckled

“it’s someone you can have fun with and someone who you can look after to, for me,” you smiled while cillian cooed his response and gave you a side hug.

“that was very sweet,” he smiled. “i would say y/n is very sweet and brave soul, just someone who you meet and brightens your day.”

cillian cleared his throat and switched his crossing leg, “well, i have two boys but bonding with her will always be special to me, like the daughter i never had.”

“thank you christopher nolan for giving me a daughter,” he chuckled and gave you another side hug.

“aw, i’m going to cry”

last but definitely not the least. a random question from the audience, what is the hottest thing a man can wear?

laughters filled the room, rolling back in your chair, “wow, that was random.”

“i know right?” the interviewer chuckles and wiped a fake tears.

“i think we should ask the man,” you pointed your fingers at cillian and he shifted in his chair.

“wow…that really caught me off-guard,” cillian cleared his throat. “i would say a nice suit or a silk shirt.”

“definitely a black silk,” you added, gaining chuckles from cillian and the crews.

“for me…wow, it’s going to be really weird. I like men who wear watches, like the leather straps one,” you chuckled and hid your face in your palms.

“i definitely rubbed it on her, sorry,” cillian smiled and hid his watch as he crossed his arms.

“hey- yeah- maybe he did…ooo, ah, another thing is properly a teacher glasses, i don’t know man, it’s hot.”

“noted, guys, you’re welcome,” the interviewer says to the camera, cutting off the interview session.

if you like my work, feel free to like or reblog; if not, critiques are appreciated. today’s a great day to take care of yourself 🤍 lots of love.

[dmwrites]

Gem wasn’t sure how she’d been roped into this, but she was standing outside, at night, with a flashlight and a hoodie from Pearl over her dress. Grian, Scar, and Impulse were gathered around a map as she approached the bridge between Grian and Mumbo’s bases.

“Ah, there’s our other G!” Grian said, turning when he heard her footsteps and waving Gem over.

“Guys, what on earth are we doing? Old houses and buildings are one thing, but Hermitcraft? Nothing here was built over two years ago! What kind of ghosts could you possibly think exist here?”

“I don’t know, but there is some serious evidence that there is a ghost on this server.” Impulse said seriously. “We have freezing temperatures in some places-”

“What, like on top of mountains? Or in ice biomes?” Gem scoffed.

Impulse gave her a withering look and continued. “Scar swears he’s seen ghost orbs-”

“I saw them with my own two eyes!” Scar said.

“I thought you could only see them through cameras?” Gem asked.

“And, most importantly, we have a witness.” Impulse said proudly.

“A witness?” Gem asked.

“With bottled proof of this ghost’s existence.” Impulse continued proudly.

“If this witness has actual, real proof that ghosts exist, this could be groundbreaking for the world of ghost hunting.” Grian said, zipping up his backpack. “Okay, let’s go! Lead the way to the witness, Impulse!”

——

The second team GIGS landed in the hole in the ground, Grian made his thoughts known.

“Zedaph is our ghost witness? Impulse, please, you’re supposed to be the brains here. It’s not that I don’t like Zed, but he’s kind of…”

“How do we know he hasn’t been sniffing his test tubes as a zedvancement and hallucinated this all up?” Scar finished the sentence for him.

“Just wait and see.” Impulse replied.

Zedaph came out of a side tunnel moments later, holding a lantern in one hand and a small jar of fluorescent green liquid in the other. He was wearing a frankly horrifying dress (or just a really long shirt) that consisted of stitched-together clothing of all the other hermits.

“Hello, hello!” Zed called to them. “If it’s ghosts you’re looking for, I’ve got the spooks!”

“Zed, what on earth are you wearing?” Gem asked.

“Oh, this is my Halloween costume! I’m all the hermits, in a horrible amalgamation of cloth!”

“Well, he’s got the horrible part down pat.” Grian muttered to Scar.

Zed didn’t seem to hear the comment, as he looked at the four ghost hunters, counting them two times over.

“My friends, aren’t you missing someone?” Zed asked. “Where is the ‘S’ in GIGGS?”

“Skizz isn’t whitelisted on this server, duh.” Scar replied.

Zed grinned, and pulled a square-shaped item from his inventory. “Well, lucky for you, I have him right here on this i-pa- hi- hi-pad. A hi-pad, yes, that’s what this is.”

“Hi there, friends! Who’s ready to hunt some Hermitcraft ghost ass!” Skizz exclaimed from the screen, waving at his friends.

“Skizz!” Grian, Gem, and Scar exclaimed.

“Now that you’ve all assembled, I can tell you my spooky tale.” Zedaph said mysteriously, handing the hi-pad to Impulse. He pulled a campfire out of his inventory and set it down on the ground between them. “It was a dark and stormy night. I was up late, finishing up wiring my newest zedvancement trophy display. I came out to stand right in this very spot, on this ledge, looking over my hole, when something flew past my face!”

Gem gasped as Zed leapt forward, wiggling his fingers at his audience. Grian rolled his eyes. Scar was looking at the dangling animals, clearly not paying attention.

“It was glowing green, and this thing fell directly into the water feature around my bed!” Zed continued, pointing down into the hole, where his bed was. Around the bed were small streams of water, clearly so Zed wouldn’t take fall damage getting down. “I, of course, scrambled to get a lead, thinking it must be dangled at once.”

“I don’t like that your first thought when seeing anything is ‘can I wrap it up in rope and dangle it’, Zed. I would hate to psychoanalyze you.” Grian said.

“But when I got down there,” Zed continued, still acting like he didn’t hear Grian’s comments, “the lead went right through it! It was translucent, clearly a ghost! A green ghost of a man covered in chains! He gave me such a fright, speaking to me with a frankly grating American accent about pinball machines and other odd things. And then he left, floating up into the air and away! And all that was left behind was… this mysterious ghost substance.” Zed finished his story, holding out the bottle of glowing green liquid.

“Mysterious ghost substance?” Impulse asked.

Skizz gasped. “Dude, maybe that’s like the ghost’s sweat, or his p-”

Impulse muted him before he could finish.

“Scar, I dare you to drink that.” Grian said, pointing at the glass.

“Okay.” Scar said, and took the glass from Zed’s hand, popped the cork, and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

“SCAR!” Grian, Impulse, Gem, and Zed cried.

“Grian, why did you dare him to drink it?” Gem asked, smacking Grian’s arm.

“I didn’t think he actually would do it!” Grian cried.

“Don’t lie, you knew he would.” Impulse said, shaking his head. “Oh, sorry Skizz, did you want to say something?” He unmuted Skizz again.

“Is Scar okay?” Skizz cried. “And also, what does it taste like?”

They all looked to Scar, who was smacking his lips thoughtfully. He looked up at all of them. “Why is everyone looking at me?” He asked.

“You just drank ghost bath water, dude.” Skizz said.

“Ohh…” Scar said, looking at the empty glass. “I zoned out, sorry. So this was the ghost evidence?”

“And you drank it, yeah.” Gem said.

“This tastes familiar. I know where the ghost is.” Scar said. “Follow me.”

He took off, leaving Gem and Grian to stare at each other in disbelief, then follow, followed by Impulse thanking Zed for his help before taking off too, holding Skizz on the hi-pad. The ghost-hunting group followed Scar all the way to the middle of the ocean, to a huge pinball machine that lit up the night sky. They landed on the top, looking around.

“Why are we at Joe Hills’ place?” Grian whispered.

“Because that’s where the ghost is.” Scar said, pointing down at a glowing green ghost on the pinball playfield, moving around, placing blocks, trailed by chains. “It’s the Beetlejoest, it’s what Joe Hills turns into sometimes. Bit of an odd guy, but he still bleeds if you use the right arrows.”

“Wow, a real ghost! On Hermitcraft!” Impulse exclaimed. “Let’s set up our ghost hunting equipment, get as much information as we can! Quick, someone grab the parabolic mic!”

“So are we just going to ignore the part where Scar knew what Joe Hills’ ghost tastes like?” Grian asked. “Was I the only one that heard that?”

[masivechaos]

vigilante shit!

── ☆ regulus black x fem! reader

── ☆ Request: yes / no

── ☆ Synopsis: it's the first time you meet James after he cheated on you, but Regulus is by your side and you're not against making your ex a little mad.

── ☆ Warning/content: celebrity au, mention of cheating (reader been cheated on in the past), swearing, idk anything about how award shows are organized so bear with me please, idk if i like this or no but err, my English

── ☆ a.n.: 1.8k words-

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist 

Your eyes travelled the room, mouth in a thin line with the most neutral expression on your face, Regulus’ arm around your waist, flashes of cameras illuminating your make-up-covered skin. It was your first apparition in public with Regulus as your new boyfriend. Well- people knew about it, thank the paparazzi for this, but for the first time, it was official, it was your choice.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say this news broke the internet. You were known to be James Potter’s wife, the lead singer of the Marauders, and your break up was sudden, nobody saw it coming.

James Potter was famous for being adorable and so so respectful. Hence your surprise when you found out he cheated. You couldn’t describe how disappointed and betrayed you felt. You genuinely thought he was a good man, but maybe celebrities were celebrities. You hope it was false because you didn’t want Regulus to fool you as James did.

But you didn’t have to worry for the moment, today was a prize award show and you were nominated in the “single of the year” category and Regulus in the “album of the year” category. You wanted both of you to win, and eventually for the Marauders not to win the album of the year prize. First, for yourself and second to prove to James what he had just lost. It was all ego and pride but you didn’t care.

── ☆ 

Finally sat at your table, you looked around and without meaning to, your eyes fell on the Marauders’ table, so on James obviously. You couldn’t help but notice no one was seated by his side, guess his secret girlfriend wasn’t that good. You rolled your eyes before turning your body to face Regulus sat next to you “You good?” he whispered as he let his thumb slide over your knuckles before pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” you murmured. You weren’t going to let your stupid ex ruin your night.

Soon the night hosts were on stage and you could escape your thoughts by listening to them but it turned out you were zoning out the entire time, your brain only focusing on what you were going to read in the news tomorrow about how it was the first time you and James were reunited after your sudden break up.

Regulus nudged your shoulder, tearing you out of your thoughts “You need to go, it's soon your performance,” he said as he tried to read your eyes. He knew it was hard for you to face James again, but his band mates too.

The world of celebrity is like a playground for adults. Everybody knows each other, some people whisper and others eavesdrop. The kindest ones weren’t always the most popular and you could have a hard time finding real and honest friends.

And for a long time you thought you did. You had what people would call a “perfect life” and you couldn’t be happier. You had an amazing husband, who was the lead singer of a very famous band and you were friends with the other members. What could possibly go wrong?

Journalists and friends were talking about you like your life was complete, that it was going to stay the same until the end. You believed them. You thought you knew James by heart, that you were going to live a perfect marriage.

But maybe you were blind by love, or maybe you were just oblivious but you never saw his furtive glances at his phone at night or the way he would be less present for you, always finding an excuse to go out without you.

One day you got suspicious and asked his bandmates about it but they said they didn’t know anything so you let it go, forgetting about everything. That was until one of your shows was cancelled and you got home a day earlier only to find James in bed with another. When you thought about it, all you can remember is how you cried and screamed and wanted him to disappear from your life.

With tears running down your face, you left the house to find comfort next to your best friend, Remus. He welcomed you, comforted you. You thought that you hadn’t lost everything, your friends were still here. If only it was true.

── ☆ 

“How could he do this to me?” you sobbed, letting your cries staining Remus’ sweater as he brushed away the strands of hair stuck to your cheeks. Remus didn’t answer anything, hugging you closer. His best friend messed up but so did he.

“Since when was this going on? When did he start to lie?” you asked, anger taking over sadness. You felt Remus tense at this. You detached yourself from him, your eyebrows furrowed “You knew about this?” you whispered, your heart clenching inside your chest.

Remus avoided your gaze, staring down at the ground, the hardwood floor being suddenly the most interesting thing of his life.

“Did you know about this, Remus?” you said through gritted teeth and he shyly nodded, ashamed of himself. You jumped out of his sofa, throwing at him the blanket he offered you for extra comfort. “Get fucked, Remus,” you spat as you left his living room.

── ☆ 

You got off of stage after your performance under the loud applause of the public, taking a deep breath in. You had done your best and you were satisfied with the outcome. Walking back to your table, you passed by the Marauders. After realising, you tried to increase your pace and when you thought they didn’t notice you, you felt a hand grabbing your elbow, turning around.

You closed your eyes, hoping this wasn’t happening “Y/n. Please, can we talk?” You winced as you recognized James’ voice.

With a sigh, you opened your eyes “No, we can’t. Bye,” you said as you tried to leave but he held onto your arm a little harder.

“Please,” he begged and the urge to punch him in the face became even stronger. “I- I messed up, okay?”

“Woah, took you a year and half to realise? You’re a bit slow.”

James took a deep breath, combing a nervous hand through his hair “I regret what I did, okay? I fucked up and I…,” he looked at you in the eyes, getting closer to you and your whole body tensed. “I miss you.”

You raised your eyebrows, there was something so satisfying about seeing him miserable like this. Before you could answer anything, an arm slid around your waist and you lifted your eyes to find Regulus by your side.

“Everything’s fine?” he asked as he kissed your temple before letting his lips linger on your skin.

“Yeah,” you whispered, leaning into him, seeking for the comfort of his smell and touch. James’s eyes travelled between you and Regulus as a frown appeared on his face.

“So you guys are dating, now?” You nodded, taking Regulus’s hand and giving it a light squeeze. “This is your revenge? Going out with my rival? You want to know all the awards he stole from us?”

“You know everything is not about you, James? My only revenge is that I’m finally happy and apparently you are not! Like what, Karma knows how to do her work!” You turned to leave before adding “And maybe he didn’t steal any award, maybe his music is just better than yours.”

“What now? You’re saying my music sucks?”

“No. I was maybe stupid enough to believe your sweet words, I wasn’t stupid enough to marry a guy who’s music sucks. All I’m saying is that maybe he’s not the problem, maybe you are. I also happen to appreciate more a music when it’s not made by a bunch of guys who spent months lying into my face because they are fucking cowards.”

You finally walked away, leaving behind you a very much shocked and confused James. He was being honest, he truly wanted you back. And the fact that you were dating his rival wasn’t helping make him feel better.

── ☆ 

When the marauders started to be known, they were immediately successful. All of them being pretty, nice and talented, the success was almost given to them. Until Regulus Black arrived. He was the marauders’ guitarist’s brother and just as handsome, if not more for you. And from there started years of rivalry, The marauders and Regulus often fighting for awards and being the number one hit of the year.

Therefore, since you were married to James, you were used to see Regulus as a rival and bad guy. But when you broke up, you reached out to him. Out of revenge first, you definitely wanted to make James jealous. But as you talked to Regulus more and more, you discovered how much of a sweetheart he was. He made you realise how much James wasn’t treating you right, because Regulus loved you and always made sure you knew it. He made you understand that the sentence “If he wanted to, he would” was definitely true. By his side you felt loved, whole and happy.

── ☆ 

Sat down at your table, your drink in hand. You were waiting for Regulus’s performance, you were sure he was going to be great, he always was. He appeared on stage and started to sing, you carefully watched him, proud of him. It was his new song, the first time he ever performed it live.

From the corner of your eyes, you looked at the marauders, they were watching Regulus and seemed pretty annoyed. You let out a chuckle. You were waiting for one particular lyric and you quickly realised it was the next sentence and watched even more carefully the band’s reaction.“

The words finally crossed Regulus’s mouth “Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife and she looks so pretty. Driving in your Benz. Lately she's been dressing for revenge.”

You couldn’t help but let a wide grin appear on your lips as you saw James’ clench his jaw as he briefly glanced at you before realising you were looking at him.

When Regulus sat down by your side again, you kissed him, the smile still present. “I can’t kiss you if you smile so much,” he said as he cupped your face between his hands.

“His reaction was priceless.”

“That’s what I wrote this for, darling,” he smirked.

You leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. “It’s maybe childish of me, but I don’t care, he deserves it.”

The night ended and the grins never left both of your faces. And while the Marauders were going back home with their heads down and hands empty, you were sleeping peacefully next to the man of your life, with both of your awards installed proudly on your fireplace.

James lost you but you won everything. You won awards but you won the game of love too. Because you’re the best thing that happened to Regulus and he’s the best thing that happened to you.

⋆ ★ regulus black taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @maroon-winestain @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @rhydianissuperior  @loveeharrington @meredarling @jackys-stuff-blog @elenatries2write @juneberrie @f4iry-blush  @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @unadulterated-syd @garfieldsladybird @starconfettii @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @innerloverpainter @kieracassette @nyxxxxxxxx @venussflytraps @oncasette @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @widowbf @starlit-epiphany @rosalyn-s @etanordiesbullsh!t @daltopia @jsjcue @mellozhi @lovings4turn

[harlowsbby]

Forever Attached

Requested, late night calls with Jack while he’s away.

“Alright I think were all done here for today I’ll see you all tomorrow morning? For rehearsals yeah?” Nemo said and almost immediately Jack was out the door and headed back to his hotel room.

“Where is he going?” Ace asked as he watched Jack quickly leave the venue.

“Yeah I haven’t seen him run off that quick in my life.” 2fo added on.

“Y’all already know he’s in a rush to call Y/N, they stay on the phone all night.” Urban said.

“Really? How do you know I thought the two of you weren’t sharing rooms this tour.” Nemo asked.

“All ima say is the walls are very very thin.” Urban shivered at thought of possibly having to hear the two of you again tonight.

Ace and Nemo gave one another a knowing look and immediately felt pity on Urban.

When Jack arrived back to the hotel he quickly made his way to his room and locked the door behind him.

He sent you a quick text stating that he was going to shower real quick and that he’d call you right after. Being away from you was one of the hardest things Jack has ever had to do.

He loved being around you and making sure you’re always around him 24/7.

After a quick wash up he turned off the water and put on a pair of gray sweats, he didn’t bother putting on a shirt. He applied some lotion and a few hair products into his hair before leaving the bathroom and flopping onto the bed.

He looked at his phone seeing you had texted him back from earlier. He went to your contact and hit the FaceTime button after a few rings you finally answered.

“Damn about time I thought your ass fell asleep.”Jack joked as your face appeared on the screen. You rolled your eyes playfully as you sat up a bit in your bed so your face would be more visible.

“Let’s not do too much now Jack or else I’ll hang up, it’s already pass my bedtime.”

He always felt guilty whenever he’d call you so late even though you reassured him that you didn’t mind, he still felt guilty keeping you up.

“You wouldn’t hang up on me.” He teased and you looked at him with a eyebrow raised. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because you miss me.” You huffed. “I do miss you but you didn’t say you missed me? Wow I guess I’m chopped liver.” You faked cried, he smacked his lips.

“Here you go you know I miss you, I’ve been talking about you to the guys all day long.”

“Oh I know Urban had sent me a few videos of you reminiscing on our little gas station runs.” He cheeks started heating up. “He did? Ima beat his ass tomorrow.” You both laughed.

“I thought it was cute I can’t wait for you to come back home, this bed gets cold when you aren’t in it to keep me warm.” You pouted and faced the camera to show his side of the bed, that was now replaced with a Winnie a Pooh bear.

“Well it doesn’t seem that empty you’ve replaced me with a stuffed animal.” He gasped which made you laugh. “You’re so silly Jack.” You smiled.

“But that’s why you love me.” You nodded.

“That’s true but I love you for many other reasons.” That last sentence had you wanting to hear more.

“You care to name a few of them?” He asked. “I think you should go first.” He smacked his lips.

“Fine, I just hope Urban can’t hear me.”

He readjusted his spot on the bed so that was he was laying flat on his stomach and holding his phone up with his right hand.

Your stomach began to flutter as you studied his face. A few of his wet curls were sticking to the side of his face and the way his eyes always seemed to shimmer like the ocean always made you so weak.

“I’m waiting.” You song sang. “How many reasons do I have to give?” You thought about it for a few seconds.

“Give me 5.” He nodded his head and thought about it.

“I love you because you’re always there for me, you’re always making sure I’m doing well even when I push you away you just never give up on me.” He said.

“Three more reasons.” He laughed.

“You make me laugh, you’re my comfort person and lastly you complete me.” He paused. “I remember telling Urban how one day I just wanna meet someone that I can love on and call mine and I’m so glad I’m able to call you mine Y/N.”

“You’re my person too Jack, I’m so glad we found one another.” He smiled as well.

“Me too baby, me too. I can’t wait to fly you out. I miss you so fucking much you have no idea.”

You grinned. “Oh yeah? What do you plan on doing when I get there.” He smirked. “I can think of a few things.”

“A few things like what?” You whispered and before Jack was able to say something a knock came from his door followed by the door being unlocked.

“Urban? Ace?! What are you two doing? And how did you get a key to my room.” You watched with a hint of glee and entertainment.

“Tell him Urban.” Ace said and pushed Urban forward. “I mean I just came to ask if you know you’d keep it down tonight I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Urban mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked and that’s when your mouth dropped in horror.

“You could hear me?!?” Jack! I thought you said you weren’t sharing rooms with Urban that’s so embarrassing.” You yelled through the phone.

“I’m not! I guess the walls are super thin.” With the two of you being away from each other and not being able to physically touch one another, phone sex was really the only option you had to satisfy your personal needs.

“And why are you here Ace?” Ace shrugged his shoulders. “I got bored and by the way you’re such a simp I heard all the reasons as to why you love Y/N.” Ace teased.

“You’re my person I just love you so much.” Urban tried mimicking Jack.

“I prayed for times like this I’m just so glad I found you.” Ace added on.

“Oh Jack you’re just so sweet! I can’t wait to give you needless kisses.” Urban mimicked you and the two of them made kissing sounds, Jack’s cheeks grew red in embarrassment.

“You know what ima knock the both of you out since you wanna be all in my business.” Urban and Ace quickly ran out the door with Jack right behind them.

“Oh, so you’re just gonna leave me here.” You spoke though the phone as Jack’s phone laid on the bed.

“Jack! Come back and get me.” You yelled and huffed before hanging up the phone call.

[ueasking]

"The real me is completely different from Wei Zhiyuan. Our personalities, the way we think, they're all very different," says Kurt Huang, who's been described as a "typical leo" by those around him.

Although he seems like the silent and dark type, Kurt Huang actually has a bright and straightforward personality. Since he was young, he has always been very "open" in that he expresses his feelings directly, is very straightforward with his words, and is incapable of pretending. This realness helped him gain popularity through variety shows. But for his acting work, which is what he loves the most, this realness made portraying characters all the more challenging.

Kurt Huang has long known that he's unable to "play" a character. Therefore, whenever he gets a role, he transforms into that character from head to toe. Instead of relying on his imagination or trying to figure out the character so that he can play the role, he lets himself become that person, to give the rawest reactions from a first-person perspective. He explains, "Wei Zhiyuan is someone who does not easily show his feelings, but I couldn't simply be expressionless or wear the exact same expression all the time! So I had to truly "become him" to know how he'd feel and act in each situation." 

In addition to his complete understanding of his character's personality, he also has high work standards and pays a lot of attention to detail, so that he can portray the role as accurately as possible. For instance, he carefully considered how he as a 26-year-old could express the pure emotions of a teen boy as well as the unique brotherhood that's portrayed in the show. He explained, "Many might think that Wei Zhiyuan's feelings for his brother are like that of a family member or a significant other. But that isn't the case. He was abandoned at a young age with no one to rely on, so his brother became his whole world. It's an important difference."

You can read a script thoroughly to thoroughly understand the character, but letting yourself truly become that character in the flesh, is a much greater challenge. In the past, Kurt Huang would find the similarities between his character and himself and use that as a starting point. However, this time round, he wasn't able to find any similarities between Wei Zhiyuan and himself as he doesn't have siblings and is an open book, so what was he to do? Two months before shooting started, he began implementing what he termed as an "extremely twisted" method: to lock his human interaction- and outdoor-loving self at home, and force himself to be still.  

During this time, he was in his room every day taking character notes, which filled eight pieces of A4-sized paper. He also shared that in order to better understand his character's emotional journey, he wrote about all of Wei Zhiyuan's "firsts," such as the first time he touched Qian and the first time he called Qian by his name. In his view, these are the moments that really made Yuan's heart flutter, and doing all this helped him better get into the role.

He can talk about this lightly now, but Kurt recalls that going through that period of repression was very difficult, and at one point he even felt as if he couldn't take it any longer. As he continued to live in Yuan's inner world, even his mother got worried. To make his portrayal as realistic as possible, he continued to live like this once filming started, even when the cameras weren't rolling. "Once we finished filming, I started filming another project and was finally able to pull myself out of this mindset. But when we started promotions (for Unknown), initially, I didn't really want to think back to that time as it was very very hard. But my manager encouraged me and said that thinking about that time and talking about it could be therapeutic in a way, and that helped me find the courage to talk about it."

Note: I only translated the parts related to Unknown.

[woozvc]

notice you

0.8

w.c - 3.1k ish

okay, this is it.

you walk into the interview room, immediately hit by the bright lights and flowers around. it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the light, maybe not wearing your glasses today wasn't the best idea. you take your seat and look ahead to them. they look unreal.

it never dawns upon you how good seventeen look in real life. almost better than their pictures. u smile at them, small bows and introductions before the cameras begin rolling. you see him and can't help but smile wider, he really is unreal.

the pd yells action and as if a new person, you're immediately more confident, reciting the script like it was engraved in your mind. "hello everyone, welcome to dingo's new show forever idol!, you've waited a long time huh? well we won't waste much time and introduce our guests for the first ep, a group who has always been very close to dingo. everyone please welcome seventeen!" small cheering by the staff followed by hoshi's "say the name" intro.

it's hard to say what exactly it is, but seventeen's energy is so calming. you don't feel like you're interviewing top idols, it feels like they're old childhood friends. the interview goes extremely smoothly, it's as if this is something you've done before. you're glad seventeen were able to make the mood a bit more lively and cheerful, they really are just a group of best friends.

asking the questions makes you understand seventeen more. the way hoshi always is excited to answer and ends up cutting someone off mid-sentence, how dk is always joining hoshi in his acts making sure he's never alone, seungkwan is always making sure that you're okay with hosting and is asking questions to you too. mingyu keeps laughing at everything and everyone and chan joins in to give small comments. vernon is usually quite, he sits back and just enjoys his members answers. sometimes he answers, and he's always answering in such a thoughtful way, it's admirable.

you wrap up your ending and the cameras are cut. you get up and offer to shake all of their hands, which they take eagerly. you get to shake vernons hand and he gives u a small smile. u return it and hope that the faint red tint creeping up your neck to your cheeks isn't noticible by him.

the pd says you guys can take some rest so they can film a behind video, ones where they run around asking them random questions. you excuse yourself from the group to the snacks aisle in the other room.

maybe it's because you're nervous, or scared, that u almost drop ur phone at the mention of your name. u catch your phone before it drops and see seungkwan and vernon before you"we surprised you huh? haha sorry but y/n we have a very serious and important question." seungkwan starts, emphasising the "serious and important" part.

you say a small yes when seungkwan hands the mic to vernon and he continues "so y/n fried chicken or ramen" a very serious question indeed u think. after a few seconds of thought u say your answer "fried chicken, it's my comfort food" and vernon gives u a victory high five with a smile while seungkwan looks to the camera in a rant about how fried chicken makes bloating worse and what not. honestly you couldn't pay attention, not when vernon looked at u.

the rest of the interviews were fun to watch, you got to know hoshi and dk LOVE having the camera on them and that dino likes being called handsome more than cute. never a dull moment with seventeen.

it's about 6pm when everyone is wrapping up to leave and u see jiwoo come in the room. she talks to a few staff and comes towards you.

"ready to leave?"

"yeah just let me check if I forgot something" you say as u turn towards the green room area. as you're about to walk you see vernon outside seventeen's room on the phone with someone. now you have 2 options, face vernon while going to your room Or just hope that you've left nothing behind.

"yeah let's go I don't think I'll leave something"

synopsis - you get invited to your first MAMA awards after debuting as a soloist. a dream come true for u. your fans are ecstatic but they can't help but notice how this one idol keeps stealing glances at u......and you can't ignore it either.

pairing — vernon x gn!reader

genre/s — smau, idol au, fluff, minor angst

warnings — a lot of cursing

previous | masterlist | next

note — giggling🤭 sorry for the late post I wanted to post the interview part on my birthday 😭😭 we grow older with simp hansol💯

also um english isn't my first language so forgive me if there's any mistakes just pretend I wrote this correctly. I'm going to try to keep this series mainly smaus but I feel like I needed to write this part out to express the interview moments a bit better 🫶

taglist :

@spilled-coffee-cup @atinytinaa @matchahyuck @wonwoos-wineparty @kawennote09 @weird-bookworm @idkwwhatimmdoiing

@maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr @thehao8 @blurryriki @atinytinaa @delicatewinterenthusiast @stqrrgirle @cloelinnnnn @sp1ng @venusprada @hellohannie @ahuihoeeee

@ddokye

@jeonghansshitester @cienlvrs @vernyangel

@thefroggybazaar

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : LATE NIGHT LIVES

After a long day of school meetings and running errands, the kids were showered and in bed. You and Jack had just finished watching a movie and now you were just in bed scrolling through your phone.

You usually don’t do live streams but tonight seemed like a good idea just to get you a little tired.

“Babe don’t say or do anything nasty. I’m going to go live on instagram.” You warn him, as you sit up against the headboard.

“But I wanted to get nasty with you.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes, “See, don’t say anything like that.” you start the live stream and wait for people to join.

“Hi guys, it’s been a while.” You say, looking at the chat. “Oh, I have a story for you guys about something that happened today. So let’s wait for more people to join.”

“What story? What happened today?” Jack asks you, placing his phone on the bedside table.

You smile, shaking your head. “Go back to texting your fans. Let me talk to mine.”

Jack scoffs,“Babe, tell me.”

“You’ll hear it when I tell them, just wait.” You read the chat real quick and laugh, nodding.

He groans, “Let me go get something to drink first.”

“Can you bring me something too please? And not Phocus, I want actual water.”

He turns around quickly gaping at you. “Wow, not you bashing my brand.”

You roll your eyes, “Stop being so dramatic.”

He heads towards the door. “Don’t start the story without me.”

“Then hurry up.” You warn and smirk seeing him run out.

“This is going to be funny you guys.” You turn to your phone and focus on the live and start reading comments.

“Yes he really is so dramatic and unserious.” You laugh. “But that’s my man, and I’m going to stick by him.”

“Okay, I’m back.” He announces and jumps on the bed. “Here.” He hands you a can of Phocus. “We ran out of your water.”

“I know what you’re doing.” You grab the can and pop it open, making sure to take a sip in camera view. “I’m sending Neelam the invoice for this”

“I’m not doing anything.” He smirks, leaning against the headboard.

“Mhmm.” You look down at your phone. “Okay guys, story time.” You smile. “Today I went to get waxed, you know, down there.”

“What kind of story is this?” Jack asks.

“It’s a funny one so don’t interrupt, I’m telling the girlies.”

“Not what I was expecting.” Jack lays down completely on the bed, pulls the covers over his body and grabs his phone.

You roll your eyes. “My usual waxer was out today, so I had to let someone else look down there and wax me. I was shy, but HE made me feel comfortable.”

“HE?!!!!” Jack quickly turns his head towards you, throwing the covers off of him.

“Yes he.” You roll your eyes. “Anyway, he was so gentle, he was so good. I honestly didn’t feel a thing. The way he put the wax, I felt kind of- I don't know, hot?”

“Are you kidding?” He sits up. “Is he gay?”

“Jack, why would I be kidding about getting my kitty waxed? And no, he’s not gay.”

“Y/N, you just said you got horny from it.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I said I got hot.” You’re smirking.

“Same thing.”

You read a comment from the chat and nod, “Yes, I’m definitely going back with him. He actually gave me his personal number and he told me he even does housecalls.”

“What the fuck?”

You smile, “Okay guys, I think I’m going to let y’all go. I need to sleep.” You quickly end the live, plug your phone into the charge and place it on your side table.

You lay down and notice Jack is sitting, staring at you. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me a guy waxed you, a straight guy at that.”

“Babe, it doesn’t matter. He was doing his job.”

“Yeah but it’s something I would've liked to know.” He mumbled out.

“Baby, are you jealous?”

“It’s not about jealousy, it’s about making sure you’re safe and comfortable.”

“Aww baby.” You push him back so he can lay down and you straddle him. “Didn’t you hear? He was very respectful, and comforting. He rubbed me the right way.” You smirk.

“You’re fucking joking huh?” He looks up at you.

You start laughing “I am.”

Jack quickly takes a hold of your waist and flips you two over so he’s now hovering over you. “That wasn’t funny, I was ready to go on YouTube and learn how to wax so I could do it for you.”

You laugh at that. “No way they show that on YouTube babe.”

“Don’t play with me again, talking about you got hot and he rubbed you the right way, what does that even mean?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, I was just reading the comments and saying them.”

He pinches one of your nipples, “No more going live late at night.”

He kneels between your legs, “Now open these up, let me see if you need waxing or not.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, but do as he says.

“Mhmm, so pretty.” He runs his finger on your bud. “I can definitely wax this myself.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree @toocriticalharlow @thefemalestorywriter

[carlyraejepsans]

> YOOOOOOOOOO 👀👀

The room goes dark, a convenient puff of air snuffing out the flames in the fireplace. For a terrifying moment, as your eyes struggle to adjust, you are blind.

"Beauties and gentle-beauties," the robotic voice booms again, "Welcome…"

A drum rolls into a crescendo.

Then from blind, you are blinded.

The light returns like a blade, cutting a sharp circle around you and Sans' figures. He's not alone in the spotlight, however.

"To tonight's melodrama!" The King concludes with a flourish.

Like a switch being flipped, the room explodes into noise and color. Colorful heart shaped lights dance along the walls, produced by drone-like machines that flutter in the air from the open window as soon as the cues are given. Cameras, screens, microphones. They fill the once quiet room with their mechanical whirring. From somewhere above you, confetti rains to the floor.

The King flashes a dashing smile at the cameras. At least, you think he does. As close to a smile as he can get in his rectangular form, anyway.

He waves one arm in the air, saluting; the other clasping Sans' shoulder in apparent good humor. Sans' smile is frozen but unfazed.

Privately, you're relieved for him that skeletons don't have much in terms of soft tissues. That grip looks like it would bruise.

"Everyone give a big hand to our two wonderful protagonists!"

The King lets go of his bodyguard to clap along to the audio track that automatically begins to play. Sans shrugs his shoulders—the characteristic gesture masking any signs of physical discomfort—before popping a lazy salute at the cameras.

Your terrified eyes meet his for a moment, but he doesn't seem to acknowledge you.

"My dear viewers, I must first of all offer you an apology. Dragging you out of your beds at this ungodly hour… where have my manners gone. However! An unforeseen development has recently unfolded."

He's fast. He's very fast for something that moves like a military grade unicycle. In the blink of an eye, he's by your side. The colorful panel of his face is unreadable; the lights of the improvised studio catch on the golden crown atop his head.

"The ghost of tears…"

His gloved hand reaches up to gently grab at your chin and turn your once crying face to the cameras.

"A midnight rendez-vous… turned to tragedy."

As fast as he came, he's gone, rolling to the centre of the room and spreading his arms to his sides with pathos.

"Could this be? A heart wrenching tale of unrequited love?!!"

Where you stare dumbfounded and frozen, Sans laughs. He takes a few steps forward, planting himself right by Mettaton's side, then throws a wink, first at you, then at the cameras.

He doesn't break a sweat. The movement is so natural it seems like second nature. You wonder, for a second, just how long he's been working for Him.

"oh you know. nothing like some light heartbreaking and entering to end the night, am i right?"

A rimshot rings out. You're not sure why, but you feel like it wasn't part of the planned sound design. The king's robotic laugh sounds even hollower than usual.

"Of course! Of course! My agent's penchant for humor is more than well known. But!"

He turns to you—and with him your knees to jelly. The King tilts his royal microphone at you, teasingly. Threateningly.

"Everyone is waiting for the real scoop, darling! Our special human guest. What do YOU have to say in all of this?"

[jesuschristmattyhealy]

you're the only one I want to see

to the anon who suggested this idea: I hope you know it has become a permanent installment of my before-bed-fantasy-dream-time. this is very much inspired by the Andrew/Amelia Golden Globe's interview, hence the title. thanks to @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars for the reader's interview theme I appreciate you bestie <33 hope you all enjoy comments and feedback is always appreciated. ilysm

////

“I think you’re being summoned.” 

“Am I?” 

You watch in professional disbelief as Harry Styles turns in profile to find that, yes, his publicist is waving him onto the next interview. 

“Oh, yeah,” he pouts, “So sad, I was having such a good time chatting.” 

“Don’t worry,” you reply with an air of chumminess you can’t quite believe is coming across as effortless, “We’ll find a time soon, darling, I promise.” 

“They can’t keep us apart, I won’t let them,” he declares, “Keep up the good work.” 

“I’ll certainly try!” You call after his retreating back. As soon as he’s out of ear and eye shot you double over, wheezing to the camera man, “I can’t believe I just had a full conversation with him.” 

It’s the 2023 Britt Awards and British GQ has hired you as a representative for the red carpet, after your web series gained popularity and got you noticed by large publications across Europe and America. In a world where every interview has to have a schtick, yours is called “Two Drink Minimum,” a show where you invite celebrities out for at least two drinks and ask them increasingly more ridiculous questions as the night progresses. So far, you’ve hosted names such as Pedro Pascal, Bryce Dallas Howard and Jonathon Van Ness and in the new year, it seems like everyone’s publicist is in your inbox asking for a feature. Your career has led you to a lot of “pinch me” moments, but watching Harry Styles’ ever-sequined back sauntering away from you calls for a punch square in the face. 

Suddenly, a male voice pulls you from your star-struck stupor. 

“I was hoping you’d be here.” 

You start, spinning around to come face to face with the man who decorated both your high school bedroom and college dorm room, and your phone lockscreen for as long as you can remember having one. Matty Healy, wearing a dark green suit and an amused smile.

You press a hand to your chest, “You scared me-” 

Instinctively, he reaches for your forearm, “-oh no, I didn’t mean to scare you-” 

You grip the sleeve of his suit, hardly believing his real skin and bone is beneath it, “-you just materialized out of nowhere-” 

“-I was just so excited to see you, I couldn’t help myself.” He giggles — really giggles. 

You can feel your face heating up in spite of yourself, “Wha- excited to see me? Matty Healy please-” 

“No, really, ask the boys I’ve been dying to meet you.” 

The knowledge that the men of the 1975 have even mentioned your name, let alone had full conversations about you, is almost too much to handle. You search for a word, anything really, that might be appropriate. Your brain feels like hot pea soup. 

“And where is your… gang this evening?” 

His brow furrows, you immediately regret saying anything. Staring at him might’ve even been better. 

His lips turn up at the end, “Gang?-” 

You’re already explaining yourself, “I don’t know why I said that you’re-” 

He’s smiling full on now, like he knows something you don’t,“Yeah, there’s a name for what we are, love, it’s a-”

“- A band, I’m sorry it’s just that I’ve been talking to Harry Styles and I’ve lost all cognitive ability,” you joke, gesturing wildly at your forehead.

He rolls his eyes, the smile becomes a smirk, “Oh that’s it, is it, you’re still thinking about him? Should I leave, should I go find him for you?” He points his thumb behind him, already turning to go. 

You reach for his arm again, giggling at his sarcasm, “No, no, Matty that’s not what I meant-” 

“- No it’s alright, I don’t want to stand in the way of true love.” He waves one hand at you, the other loosely holds your finger tips.

“No, honestly what it is is that I’m actually getting really nervous around you but I was embarrassed so I used Harry as a cover,” Truer words had never been spoken. 

He’s nodding, a single strand of hair tickling his eyebrows,“Oh, there’s the backpedal, no it’s alright the damage is done, I see where I stand. Just England’s second best male pop star, that’s alright.” 

You whistle through your teeth, donning a jokingly skeptical look,“I don’t know, I feel like Ed Sheeran might have that title.” 

His mouth actually falls open at that,“Ed Shee- right I’m leaving, you’ve slandered me for the last time-” 

You’re laughing now, the nerves have gone. It feels like you’ve been old friends forever,“No! Matty, don’t give up on us-” 

He shakes his head, looking away from you into the crowd, “-after I was so kind and complimentary to you-” 

“- you’re right I’m the worst, I’m awful-” 

“-telling you how excited I was to see you, practically baring my soul-” 

“- please come back, let’s talk about this!” 

“Ok, fine you’ve convinced me.” He circles back to you, clasping his hands in front of him. His eyes make a trail from your eyes to your mouth to your necklace back to your eyes. If you weren’t blushing before you certainly are now. 

You take a deep breath, “Ok, now you were telling me where your band is.” 

“Yeah, they’re queueing at the Glam Bot.” 

“Oh, is there a line?” 

“Yeah, it’s ages long too, I couldn’t stand there any longer. George is gonna text me when we’re up.” 

“Do you have your pose planned?” You ask. 

“No, and I’ll tell you what we should probably figure that out because that thing is proper intimidating.” 

“Yeah, it comes at you awfully fast doesn’t it?”  

“Yes! It’s so fast, I get nervous just watching it.” 

“Matty Healy? Afraid of a robot?” 

He frowns with his whole face, leaning backwards,“No, no, I’m not. I’m a big guy, I don’t get scared-” 

You roll your eyes, laughing through your nose,“That’s right I forgot, forgive me.” 

“-It’s fine, just try to remember next time,” He winks at you, just barely so much so you think you might have imagined it, “No, I’m mostly just scared that I’ll blink or something stupid.” 

You make a noise of agreement, “Do you want to practice not blinking?” 

He bites his lip in thought,“How would we do that, exactly?” 

“Easy, we’ll just have a staring contest.” 

“Oh yeah, okay .” 

You square off, each of you closing your eyes in preparation. 

“Ok,” you say, “Counting us down. Three, two, one, go.” 

You open your eyes and are immediately met with his stare, dark amber, autumn leaves and the forest at sunrise, maple and mahogany. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s smirking at you again, as if he can read your thoughts. You try to think about neutral things, dogs, going to the grocery store tomorrow, how much your feet hurt right now, just in case he can. 

“My eyes hurt already,” You whisper. 

He doesn’t say anything, just hums something under his breath. It all feels strangely intimate, all these people in the room and he’s staring at you like you’re the first person he’s ever seen in his life. An idea washes over you suddenly. He’s rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. Just as he moves forward, you lift your hand and snap your fingers in front of his nose. He blinks immediately. 

“Ha! You blinked!” 

“That’s cheating!” He’s indignant, his Northern accent evident. 

“It’s not cheating, I’m just preparing you!” You laugh as he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“This is so unfair,” he rubs his dry eyes with the heel of his palm. 

You pout sarcastically at him. “I’m so sorry, I hope someday you can forgive me.” 

“It might take a while,” He wrinkles his nose at you, then is distracted by his phone lighting up i his pocket, “Oh, George is demanding I come back now.” 

Your stomach falls slightly, “Yes, go back to your-” 

“Gang?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“-exactly.”

He touches your arm again, the skin tingles, “So sorry to leave you, I feel like that was probably the most worthless interview you’ve done all night-” 

You laugh. 

“Not like that it was bad, I just feel like I didn’t give you anything whatsoever.” 

You place your hand over your heart, “Don’t worry, it was very impactful to me.” 

“Ok, well that’s all that matters,” He’s inching away, lingering slightly, “Maybe we uh… maybe we can have a redo on your show.” 

You hum agreement, “Now there’s an idea, Healy.” 

“I have good ones sometimes.” He shrugs, thumbs in his pockets. 

“I’ll have my people get in touch with your people,” You say, and before you can stop yourself, shoot him a pair of finger guns. 

He’s almost turned away, but does a double take, laughing, “Did you just finger gun me?” 

“Pretend that didn’t happen.” 

“Sure. I’ll see you in there.” 

He walks away, giggling still, looking over his shoulder at you. You retreat to the bathroom to call your roommate in hysterics. 

[akkkkollle]

Camboy kazutora perhaps? I feel like he'd be a whiny bottom!

Pairing: Camboy!Kazutora × M!Reader.

Words: 500+.

CW/TW: praise, dressing up, pet names, pleas, overexcitation, mention of hair pulling.

Such a cutie, God... He's incredible. He's just a small, whiny kitten, very cute, loud and obedient (almost always). And he is also very sensitive and in most cases loves overexcitation for this reason. The more he cums, the much better. 

- Ah! D-damn, what orgasm is this? The fifth? O-oh my God... - his back falls on the mattress and on the pillows behind him, taking into account his lower part, covered with sperm. 

His hips are shaking even when they are lying on the bed. Cum drips onto the sheet, creating a mess. There are a lot of vibrators around him, especially small ones. But after a few seconds, he immediately rises on trembling hands, grabbing a random vibrator and turning it on. 

His popularity probably rose because of his curiosity and, obviously, his beautiful voice. He is ready to try a lot at least once to see if this or that thing excites him more. And, of course, his high-pitched voice breaking when he begs the chat to cum. 

Hm, it also probably happened because of his cute body. Well, that is, he has a great figure. A fairly thin waist, moderately thick hips, a nice dick and ass. And, of course, his long hair, which many would like to pull. 

As I mentioned earlier, he is very obedient. He constantly begs to cum and won't do it without permission. And also, perhaps, he likes to be called a kitten or a kitty. 

- A-ah, mhm, d-damn, damn, dammmn, I b-beg, pwwease, let me finish! Let me, I've been such a good boy, pwwease, pwwease, pwweeeease! - he whines, and even though his eyes are rolled back, he weakly watches the chat. 

And he lets out a moan of pleasure when the chat is filled with messages, such as: "Come on, kitten," "Come on, kitty," "Finish off your gorgeous little body," "I want to pull his hair."

Most likely, the audience will never know about your existence. He doesn't want to involve you in this activity. You're just for him. Although it's a bit unfair from this point of view, right? But, if he still wants to see if he will experience more pleasure from sex on camera than from jerking off or a fake dick...

- M/n, so deep, ah..! - he moans when his head rests on your shoulder and his hand wraps around your bicep. 

His naked torso is now open to the audience and the sight of you lifting his body up and down on your cock makes others want to do the same with him. The sight of his excited face gives unprecedented pleasure to others. 

- Kitten, I can go even deeper, you know. - you whisper, biting his neck, which makes him whine. - Let's make you come like a good boy, and then we'll do whatever you want.

He nods aggressively, after a few seconds, spilling cum on his abs and chest. You gently kiss his neck while he whines, squeezing your cock. 

Well, he won't show you after this time. Pain in his legs and thighs after sex is enough for him already, and then add streams? I won't say that he would mind repeating it, because he liked it, but... 

- So why don't we do it again if you liked it? -y ou ask, fingering the strands of his hair. 

-M/n, I'm becoming different with you, I don't want others to see it. - he blushes a little. 

- Oh, you don't want to upset me, kitty? How sweet. - you squeeze him in your arms, from which he groans with displeasure, but smiles slightly. 

Good. Now imagine him in that cat underwear and tell him he's not sexy. He's sexy. It'll suit him so damn well. 

He sits down, spreading his legs, showing a black tail with a blonde tip like his hair. He wears black ears on his head. And the body is wearing black underwear in the style of a kitty.

- Wow, do you like it? I don't know... I like. It is quite convenient. - he whispers, scratching his chest. 

He loves having sex with you after his stream. He is especially sensitive, already prepared. And what could be better than getting a real dick after all these toys, right? 

- You were moaning so loudly, kitten, do you know? I just couldn't wait for you to finish. - you whisper, squeezing his hips, making him whimper. 

- I tried to finish faster, you know I wouldn't miss it. - he presses into your groin harder, trying to make your thrusts deeper. 

Maybe once he forgot to turn off the stream.