#just the notes are so long looooooool

[spocksbedsidemanner]

.

[endzithefangirl]

Sleepy interruptions

Authors note: Hello, I'm back. Don't ask why or how I wrote this Max Verstappen blurb, but here we are. Also, I have like 8 more fanfics that I've been working on that I plan on publishing at some point (you can thank @angelussiderum for always reminding me to write).

Summary: An unexpected guest crashes Max's stream

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, gender not specified but the term 'girlfriend' is used, sleep deprivation? is that a warning

Word count: 516

You hated these long working hours, especially now during the summer. You can hear Max streaming on ‘Red Line’ in the other room. Now, 9.9 times out of ten, you wouldn’t bother him. But… You just haven't seen him in almost 20 hours and it's already 11pm... So, you walk into the streaming room. Max was sitting behind a huge PC that had about 4 screens; his monitors were showing a game that he was playing while he is streaming on his main monitor.

"Come on... come on.... there…!" He mutters as he plays, too caught up in his game to notice you entering the room. You, in your sleep deprivation and probably from too much diet Pepsi, just walk towards him and wrap your arms around him from behind, not giving two shits who sees at this point. His eyes widen as he feels your arms around him and turns his head enough for only you to hear him speak so that the stream doesn't hear him.

"Baby... you know I'm streaming right now…"

You can see he's surprised, but more confused, as you never really walk in when he's streaming. You, again in the sleep deprived state running on practically nothing, kiss his cheek very softly. It was maybe too tender as his face goes red and whatever he was about to say is forgotten. His mind went blank for a moment, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red as he stares at you. He wanted to say something or protest, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, his brain having stopped fully functioning after your unexpected actions.

"B-baby... I'm…" He stutters out, slowly processing what had just happened and trying to regain control by turning his gaze back to the game on his screen. You move away and then leave, your mind taking you straight to bed.

'Ohhh look who just made a stream debut, huh Max?' one of his friends from the stream laughed as Max attempted to compose himself. Max let out a shaky exhale, trying to compose himself enough to respond. "Y-yeah, unexpected cameo from my girlfriend..." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke and feeling how warm his cheeks were by now, he knew he probably looked like a tomato.

The chat started to flood with more messages as people saw how flustered Max had been and saw this as an opportunity to tease him

'Looooooool brooo you didn't know what to say to your gf'

'Did she just interrupt your game?'

'Man your cheeks are so red bro are you blushing??'

Max was silently cursing everything and everyone at that moment, including you, even if it was your actions, or lack of actions, that got him into this messy situation in the first place. He took a deep and shaky exhale trying to calm himself down so he could come up with a decent excuse to explain to chat

"Shut up guys... I just wasn't expecting that to happen... my girlfriend usually doesn't come into my room while I'm streaming... obviously"

[yoon-kooks]

In the Dark

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Tiny Angst, Tiny Humor

Summary: As Bangtan’s stylist, you’re constantly bickering with the boy who likes to leave his shit behind in the dressing rooms. On a night when you’re forced to return his shirt, you accidentally get trapped inside his studio with him.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: even though it’s like 90% fluff, this is still how i realistically imagine yoongi minus a few things looooooool

“How about this shirt, Y/N?”

“Jimin, you can’t just keep wearing stripes for every single photoshoot…” you laugh, pulling the black and white striped sweater out of Jimin’s paws and hanging it back onto the rack with the rest of the clothes in his size. In exchange for stripes, you pull out a red flannel that would go perfectly with his black jeans for a casual boyfriend look.

At a second glance, however, the flannel is all wrinkly and reeks of cologne. Someone’s personal clothes somehow got mixed in with the photoshoot wardrobe. And you can only make an educated guess as to which inconsiderate boy would so carelessly leave his shit all over the place.

“Hey Jimin, can you return this to Yoongi when you get back to the dorms?” You bundle the flannel up and underhand it to the other boy.

“Can’t you do it yourself? Last time I checked, he was still locked up in his studio,” Jimin says as he unravels the shirt and drapes it right over your head. “Besides, he’s more likely to answer his door if it’s you, Y/N~” You hear his sinister giggle from within the shirt’s suffocating cologne that you may or may not have complimented Yoongi on one time. One time.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just let him perish alone in his studio. He doesn’t need his flannel that badly.” You rip the shirt off your head, enabling yourself to finally breathe in some fresh air. “It’s better not to bother that grouchy hermit of a producer anyway.”

“Fine, but I’m telling him I caught you sniffing his clothes~”

“Jimothy, no.”

“Jimothy, yes~” the devilish boy hums, swiftly snatching the flannel from your grasp. He skips only to the doorway before pausing to give you one last chance to change your mind. As much as you dread the thousand-year wait for Yoongi to get up off his ass and answer his studio door, you don’t really have a choice. Besides, you don’t completely hate the boy—you just wish he wouldn’t be so closed-off.

“… Okay, okay,” you groan in surrender. “We don’t need to give him the wrong idea…”

-

As you step out of the elevator and make your way down the corridor to the Genius Lab, you shake your head at the flannel. This isn’t the first time Min Yoongi has forgotten something in the dressing rooms—visiting his studio to return his clothes has become a norm for you. Is it an excuse for him to flirt with you? Perhaps.

For a solid minute, you find yourself standing outside of the high-security, passcode-protected, quadruple-alarmed Genius Lab while staring at the welcome mat with a white cat who gives you the finger and tells you to “go away”. You suppose this is Min Yoongi’s way of being extra, and it kind of pisses you off for some reason.

Knock, knock! You begin counting in your head… 1, 2, 3, 4…

No response, but you can certainly hear music playing from the speakers inside… 17, 18, 19, 20…

“Yoongi.”

…32, 33, 34, 35…

8:27PM Y/N “hey you. open the door >:(”

…59, 60, 61, 6-

Finally, after what feels like a millennium, Yoongi opens the door just barely enough for you to see him bat his eyelashes at you. He waits for your explanation as to why you’ve interrupted his music production, but quite frankly you’re not in the mood. You blink back at him as you hold his flannel up for him to see, but just out of arm’s reach. If he wants his shirt back, he’s going to have to open his fucking door like a decent human being and not just peek out like a cat waiting to pounce.

With an overexaggerated sigh and a tiny curve of his kitten lips, he swings the door open all the way but continues to guard the entrance, both hands pressed against the either side of the door frame—as if you’re about to run in there and steal his MIDI equipment that you have no fucking clue how to use, nor do you even give a shit about. But at least you’re finally able to see Min Yoongi in his entirety.

The stylist in you first takes note of his lowkey cute outfit: his usual ripped jeans and, get this, a t-shirt. A t-shirt. A wild Yoongi in a plain t-shirt is quite a rare sighting even to you, his stylist. And you assume you’re only able to witness it because you’re holding the article of clothing he would otherwise be wearing to cover himself up.

“If you’re done checking me out, can I have my flannel back now?” His voice is a tad raspy like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. And after accusing you of checking him out—which you totally were not—he has the audacity to hold his grabby hand out for the flannel. As if you’re going to hand over his shirt after that snide comment.

“Of course. That’s why I fucking walked my ass all the way across the BigHit building,” you sigh. “But I’ll only give it back to you after you tell me what took you so fucking long to answer the door.”

“I was in the middle of working.” He crosses his arms as you start to see the infamous Yoongi Pout™ creeping up on you. He may or may not be aware of your one true weakness.

“On what?” You tilt your head, challenging him further.

“New songs.”

“Can I hear?”

“It’s a secret for now.”

“Then I guess your flannel is mine for now~” you say as you slip your arms into the sleeves of his shirt. The only real downfall is that you once again become engulfed in his scent.

“Y/N, please. It might be summer, but it’s still cold in my studio from the AC. So I could really use that flannel, yeah?”

“If you were really cold, you would’ve answered the door quicker, or perhaps walked over to the wardrobe department for a spare jacket~”

“Y/N.” Not only does he speak your name in the most honeyed way possible, but The Yoongi Pout™ comes out in full force. And you aren’t ready for it.

“Fine…” you surrender, almost immediately, for the second time in one day. “But at least show me proof of your diligent work, so we can pretend like you weren’t just binging Kuroko for the fifteenth time, you weeb.

“I’m not a weeb… I’ve literally only watched Kuroko twelve times,” he shakes his head at your ignorance, but finally allows you to enter the oh-so sacred Genius Lab.

You’ve never been inside Yoongi’s studio, but you’ve always wondered how the boy could stay in such a tiny space for long periods of time without growing bored or mad. You’ve only heard myths from the gossip boys, Jimin and Taehyung, that there may or may not be a dragon hiding in there.

But to be completely honest, you’re underwhelmed as soon as you step foot into the dragonless room. After all the extra security measures Yoongi went through to keep his studio safe, you’d think there’s something special, even if not a dragon, that he’s protecting behind those walls. But nope. All you feel is the chilled air from the AC.

He sits you down into one of the seats and rolls you over to his computer, his workstation. There are a bunch of buttons and knobs in front you which he warns you not to touch, even though that only makes it all the more tempting. Before you get a chance to do so, however, his computer screen flashes on and nearly blinds you in the dimness of the room.

“Here’s your proof,” Yoongi points at the jumbled mess that appeared on his screen, as if you’re supposed to know what the fuck it all means. You see a timeline with color-coded layers of what you assume are sounds or beats or whatever else goes into producing music. But beyond that, you’re not sure how to interpret the track in front of you. You’re left in the dark.

“You act like I understand your complex alien language,” you scoff. And you don’t just mean it in regards to music production.

“What don’t you understand?” There’s a softness when he speaks in pout.

“You.”

“Me?” he frowns, either out of confusion or because you ignored his cute pout. “What do you mean?”

Everything. You don’t understand why he chooses to lock himself in a tiny room with no dragons. You don’t understand why there’s twenty thousand locks on his door. You don’t understand why his welcome mat flips you off. You don’t understand why it takes him fifty years to answer his door. You don’t understand how watching Kuroko only twelve times makes him any less of a weeb. You don’t understand The Yoongi Pout™. You don’t understand why his music has to be a secret. You don’t understand why he rarely wears t-shirts even though he looks really good in them. You don’t understand what he’s hiding. You don’t understand why he won’t let you in. You don’t understand Min Yoongi.

“What I mean is that I don’t understand how watching Kuro-” You’re cut off by an abrupt surge of darkness. The computer screen shuts down along with the flashy lights from all of the studio equipment. Even if Yoongi wasn’t wearing all black to blend in with the shadows, you still would not be able to see him in the chair next to you. The two of you are sitting in pitch-black darkness. What a perfect time for a power outage.

Yoongi sighs as pitter-patters move along his desk. You assume he’s feeling around his desk for something. Probably his phone.

You pull out your own phone from your pocket and use it as a mini flashlight to guide the boy. The beam of light reflects right off of Yoongi’s pale arms, blinding you in the process. But alas, Yoongi is able to secure his phone and begins texting away rather than thanking you for your service and sacrifice.

“Is the power out for the entire building?” You bounce out of the chair with curiosity and do your best to make it over to the door without tripping on something. When you reach the door and turn the knob, however, you realize Min Yoongi is actually an idiot. “We’re locked in here because of your high-tech security system, aren’t we.” You don’t really want to hear the answer that’ll seal your fate.

“We just have to wait for the power to come back on.” Yoongi’s voice is rather calm.

“What if the power doesn’t come back on until morning?”

“Then we’ll just have to sleep here.”

“What if I need to use the bathroom?”

“…”

“…”

“Umm... good question.”

“I hate you.” You turn the flashlight off to preserve your phone’s battery. Luckily, it’s dark enough so Yoongi can’t see you sulking at the door. You didn’t even want to walk over to his studio to return his flannel in the first place, and now you’re stuck inside? With him? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he were easier to get along with. But he’s not.

You hear the wheels of his chair roll out and footsteps that certainly aren’t walking in your direction. Instead, it sounds like his ass plops down onto a wooden surface.

“Any requests?” he asks.

“Requests for what?” The only request you have is to get out the fuck out. “Where are you?”

“Just follow my voice, Genius.” You suppose that’s alien talk for inviting you over.

With a sigh, you slide your feet in the direction of Yoongi’s voice (and cologne—today he smells like peach blossoms!). You know you’ve finally reached his location when your thighs smack the edge of something hard, causing you fall forward into another set of thighs. Yoongi snickers before elevating his thigh just a bit and tapping the wood beside him to prompt you to get the fuck off of him.

You awkwardly situate yourself onto the wooden surface, which you now realize is the piano bench. Hopefully you aren’t sitting too close in proximity to the boy.

“Any requests?” he repeats, only this time, you have context. He obviously can’t work at his computer or binge Kuroko during a power outage, so piano is the next best thing.

“Agust D.” You try to pick the most obscure song to be translated into piano. But of course, it backfires.

“I didn’t realize you were a fan of mine outside of Bangtan.” Somehow you know he’s got the biggest smirk on his face.

“I never said I was a fan!” It takes everything in you to not shove the boy off the bench. “It’s just that as Bangtan’s stylist, I feel like I should support all of members’ individual activities as well. And unfortunately, that also includes you.” You say this, but you’re glad that you gave his mixtape a listen. You feel like it’s one of the few personal things Yoongi has shared so openly with not only you, but also the entire world.

“Thanks? I guess?” he chuckles softly as you hear his finger pads take position on the piano keys in front you and him. If he actually manages to pull off a pure rap like Agust D on the piano, then perhaps Min Yoongi is truly a musical genius.

But rather than A to the G to the U to the STD, you hear a melody that sounds completely different. In fact, it doesn’t even sound like a song you’ve heard before. Either it’s an extremely tranquil and loose ballad rendition of Agust D, or it’s a new song that Yoongi’s been working on.

In the dark, where neither of you can watch his fingers flow across the keys, you pay your full attention to the pure sounds of each piano note. You wonder how many hours locked in the studio it took for him to achieve that fluidity in the way his fingers grace each key, how many hours it took to decide on what to center the song around, how many hours it took to compose a melody that’s both catchy and beautiful, and how many more hours it took for him to put it all together.

When resonance of the last piano chord fades out, you sit silently to take in what Yoongi had shown you—what had previously been hidden behind closed doors.

A sudden chill in the air reminds you of why you had come to his studio in the first place. As soon as you wiggle out of flannel, you realize Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said the studio was cold as fuck. To keep the current mood, it’d be awfully romantic to drape the flannel over the boy’s shoulders to bring warmth to his bare arms, but of course you don’t give a shit about that. Instead, you toss it over the first thing you find, Yoongi’s head. His little oof makes you cackle.

“I thought your new songs were supposed to be top secret,” you say with a little more seriousness.

“I thought you said you wanted to support all of the members’ individual activities—including mine.”

“Especially yours.” Hopefully your voice is too soft for him to hear. “But the way you close yourself off makes it difficult.”

“You mean how I’m always locked up in my studio?”

“That… and like 2534 other things,” you tease.

“That’s just how I am.” You can tell he’s pouting by the cute lilt in his voice.

“I know. I’m just glad that I got to witness a wild Min Yoongi in his dungeon. I like hearing your music.”

“And why’s that?” He wants to be praised.

“I feel like it’s the language you speak best. It’s your way of opening up.”

“Is that why you were adamant about being let into my studio?”

You nod, thankful for the darkness’s ability to mask your own feelings. Some things are better left hidden for now, you suppose. Especially since you aren’t even sure what your relationship is with him. Just then, the lights flicker back on. Whether or not Yoongi caught you mid-nod, you’re not sure.

All he does is take his flannel off to drape it over your shoulders. You scoff at the cheesy gesture, but you let it slide because you enjoy staring at his naked arms.

“You should visit my studio more often,” he nods, as if it’s such a privilege to be invited to the Genius Lab. “And I’ll try to open the door more quickly.”

“Thanks I guess. But maybe I should try leaving a piece of my clothing here so you’ll have to visit me down at the wardrobe department instead~”

“Y/N, are you suggesting that I purposely left my flannel in the dressing room just so you would come visit me?”

“No, but now that you mention it, you’re looking awfully sketchy~” you giggle at how the boy just exposed himself.

“ANYWAY. It’s good for artists to get a change of scenery when they work, so I guess I’ll drop by some time and we can grab coffee or whatever.”

“Good. We can tackle that tsundere attitude of yours next.” Getting Yoongi to open up is only the first step.

[starkfish]

Spoilers for TWP ep 5 under the cut:

LOOOOOOOOL THAT ENDING WAS BANANAS YO. I can already hear everyone screaming about ~historical accuracy~ but lbr, we left that behind long ago, so I appreciate the fact that they just went BALLS TO THE WALL.  Honestly I was much more bothered by the way it was shot, like, they definitely needed to have MFairz like, lean into it more, because it was ridiculous watching this big dude flail against this tiny woman who is trying to murder him using just her forearms down. But y’know, she had the POWER OF GOD on her side I guess (and how I love that they revisited the whole HOW CONVENIENT THAT GOD ALWAYS WANTS WHAT YOU WANT, I believe they touched on that in TWQ, too, if I’m remembering correctly).  BUT the scene between them was so great, and Jacob was so great in the scene after and they said in the after the show thing that he COULDN’T STOP CRYING after, because he is a precious cupcake. And also I’m sad that we don’t have Jasper Tudor anymore even though I knew it was coming, history-wise, although obviously not many people sawing it coming THAT WAY.  OH SHOW, YOU GO ON W/ UR CRAZY SELF.  (Also just a general note that I love that they are still capturing Henry’s growing paranoia but without making him a screaming awful abusive dickwad, like WOW PG, IT IS IN FACT POSSIBLE.)