#gotta sweep and mop

[birdmenmanga]

sigh... gotta clean this dump before vege guy gets here...

[willosword]

yea you're a househusband we've already established that chop chop keep up buddy

[bookwyrminspiration]

happy clean the entire house in 2 hours Saturday to all who celebrate (me)

[lazaruspiss]

on one hand it's good that i get to do closing money tasks now instead of the guy who isn't great at math, on the other i now have to trust someone else to do all my usual cleaning tasks and i think im going to go insane

[everymlmhybrid]

Okay opening the window and climbing back into bed babyyyyy and then it's endless YouTube time

[thesoundofmadness]

1/3 tasks complete

[pucksandpower]

Burn, Baby! Burn!

Lando Norris x firefighter!Reader

Summary: Lando almost burns down his house (twice) and meets the throughly exasperated love of his life in the process

The shrill screech of the alarm pierces through the calm of the fire station. You jolt upright in your chair, coffee spilling across the table. Another firefighter bursts into the room.

“We’ve got a call! Some bloke has managed to set his kitchen on fire boiling pasta!”

You shake your head in disbelief as you follow your colleague out to the truck. Who in their right mind manages to burn water?

The sirens wail as you weave expertly through the London streets. You’ve lived here your whole life and know every nook and cranny. As you near the address, plumes of smoke curl up in the distance. Sure enough, you pull up to a posh townhouse billowing with black smoke.

You hurry to unravel the hose, pulling on your heavy fire gear with practiced ease. As you blast water at the licking flames, they hiss and retreat. Within minutes, the fire is out.

Your captain does a sweep of the place to check for any remaining embers. You start to inspect the damage. The kitchen is completely demolished — cabinets charred and counters blackened. And there, in the middle, stands a lanky man with a mop of brown hair. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in the ruin.

You stride over. “What in blazes happened here?”

“I, uh, was just trying to make some pasta,” he stammers.

You spot a scorched pot in the sink. “Pasta? All you need for that is water, salt, and noodles. How did you manage to incinerate the whole bloody kitchen?”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “I filled the pot with water, turned on the stove, went to get my phone and next thing I knew, the place was up in flames!”

You rub your temples, frustration simmering. This overgrown child clearly can’t be trusted alone.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Lando. Lando Norris.”

Lando Norris … why does that sound familiar? You rack your brain trying to place it.

“Well Lando, unless you fancy burning down the rest of London, I suggest you leave the cooking to the takeaway. Or hire a personal chef or something, sure looks like you can afford it.”

Lando chuckles at that. There’s a twinkle in his eye that irks you.

“Will do, firefighter ...”

“Y/N,” you supply.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful firefighter,” he says with a wink.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The last thing you need right now is an incompetent flirt.

Your radio crackles to life. “Y/L/N, need you to hang back with the resident until a building inspector can come assess the safety.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before responding. “Copy that.”

You turn back to Lando. “Looks like you’re stuck with me till the inspector shows up.”

“Well I certainly won’t complain about that,” Lando says with a dimpled grin.

You plop down on his couch, which by some miracle remains unscathed. Lando sits down next to you, angling his body in your direction.

“So, do you rescue fiery damsels in distress often?”

You snort. “Wouldn’t exactly call you a damsel. But putting out idiots’ fires? More often than you’d think.”

Lando clutches his chest in faux offense. “Idiot? I’m wounded!”

Despite yourself, you feel your lips quirking upwards. There’s something endearing about him, even if he is concerningly incompetent.

“Gotta admit, this is a new one,” you gesture around. “Never been called for someone catching water on fire before.”

“Ah well, I like to keep things interesting,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to respond when your radio crackles again. “The inspector’s been held up across town. Gonna be another 30 minutes.”

You lean your head back and groan. Lando perks up beside you.

“Well, lucky me! More time with the lovely firefighter.”

You toss a decorative pillow at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

Lando just laughs, dodging the pillow with ease. “So tell me, Y/N, what made you become a firefighter?”

You debate shutting him down, but something about the open curiosity on his face makes you open up.

“My dad was a firefighter,” you explain. “Some of my earliest memories are of playing at the fire station with the other firefighters’ kids while our dads were on calls. I was maybe 5 or 6 when my dad let me slide down the fire pole for the first time.”

You smile at the memory. “I knew then that I wanted to be just like my dad. I thought firefighters were the coolest people in the world.”

Lando is watching you intently as you speak.

“What about you?” You ask. “What is it you do, besides wreak havoc in the kitchen?”

Lando smirks. “I’m a Formula 1 driver.”

Your eyes widen — no wonder his name is so familiar.

Lando looks pleased at your recognition. “So you’ve heard of me then?”

You nod. “Guess that explains how you can afford a posh place like this. Though I’d think a racing driver would have a bit more common sense in the kitchen.”

Lando shrugs sheepishly. “Never really had to fend for myself until now. I’m a bit hopeless at all things domestic.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “Been living off takeout, have you?”

“You know it,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to retort when the building inspector arrives. You greet him as Lando shows him around the thoroughly singed kitchen. After an extensive examination, the inspector deems the place safe, reminding Lando to get repairs done immediately.

With that settled, you make your way outside, Lando following at your heels.

“Don’t suppose I could get your number?” Lando asks as you reach the fire truck. “You know, in case I have any other domestic mishaps that require rescuing.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “How about I just pray we don’t meet again? Since that would likely mean you almost burned your place down … again.”

Lando clutches his chest in mock offence. “You wound me! And here I thought we were really hitting it off!”

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You pause, considering him for a moment. “But seriously … try not to burn the place down again, yeah? I’d rather not have to peel you off the floor next time.”

Lando grins. “I’ll do my best to keep the place flame-free. Though I can’t promise I won’t still need rescuing from time to time.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Take care of yourself, Lando Norris.”

As you hop into the fire truck and speed away, sirens blaring, you catch Lando waving out of the corner of your eye. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

What an absolute disaster of a man.

***

It’s been nearly two weeks since the incident at Lando’s place. You’ve replayed that day in your mind more times than you’d care to admit. There was just something about that hapless yet charming Lando Norris.

Speak of the devil — the fire alarm at the station suddenly blares to life.

“Never a dull day, eh?” Your captain jokes.

You hustle to gear up, a sense of deja vu washing over you. As you near the now familiar posh townhouse, plumes of smoke once again curl into the sky. Your disbelief grows when you see a very sheepish looking Lando standing outside.

He grimaces as your truck pulls up. “Before you ask, yes, it was me again.”

You leap out of the truck, pulling the hose as your team gets to work quelling the flames.

“What the hell happened this time?” You shout over the roar of water.

“I, uh, may have tried to microwave some leftovers,” Lando says, rubbing the back of his neck.

It only takes a few minutes to extinguish the fire and assess the damage. Thankfully, it seems contained to mostly the microwave this time. Lando leads you inside, where smoke still lingers in the air. Your eyes immediately zone in on the microwave, or rather, what’s left of it. The interior is completely blackened and melted.

You whirl on Lando. “Please tell me you didn’t put something metal in there.”

Lando winces. “Right, so, funny story. I may have left a fork in the takeaway box.”

You drag a hand down your face in exasperation. “Lando, are you actually incapable of functioning like a normal adult?”

He has the decency to look ashamed. “I know, I’m a disaster, truly. But in my defense, the microwave came with the place already. I didn’t even think to check for a manual or proper usage instructions.”

You snort. “I’m pretty sure not putting metal in the microwave is common sense.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. “Suppose I don’t have much of that.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling a bit bad for berating him. He really is just hopeless, not malicious.

“Look, maybe it’s best you just avoid the kitchen altogether,” you suggest gently. “At least until you get some proper instruction.”

Lando nods enthusiastically. “You’re absolutely right. In fact, why don’t I just take you out for dinner? Be a lot safer than me bumbling about the kitchen.”

You cross your arms, biting back a smile. “Are you asking me out while I’m on duty?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No no, of course not! I would never compromise your professionalism.”

You can’t help but grin. “I’m just teasing you.”

Lando looks relieved. “Right, sorry. But truly, I’d love to take you to dinner, if you’re open to it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I could certainly use the company of someone responsible in the kitchen.”

You consider him for a moment. There are about a million reasons you shouldn’t agree to this. But despite the situation, you find yourself charmed by Lando.

“Tell you what, why don’t you swing by the station once my shift is over in ...” You check your watch. “Four hours. You can ask me again then.”

Lando’s face lights up. “It’s a date! Well, hopefully, if you say yes.”

You chuckle and turn to leave, but Lando calls out your name. You glance back and he smiles warmly.

“Thank you again for rescuing me … in more ways than one.”

Four hours later, you’re wiping down the fire truck when an expensive sports car pulls up outside the station. Lando hops out, beaming when he spots you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he calls out cheekily.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t you know this is a strictly no-playboys zone?”

Lando clutches his heart. “You wound me, Y/N! I’m much more than just extraordinarily good looks.”

“What good looks?” You challenge.

Lando strolls over and holds open the passenger door. “Have dinner with me and see for yourself.”

You pretend to consider it, then shrug. “Eh, why not. Beats more takeout on my couch.”

You hop into Lando’s flashy car and he zooms off towards the restaurant. Lando insists on opening every door for you and pulling out your chair. You poke fun at his over-the-top chivalry, but find it endearing nonetheless.

Over dinner, you learn there’s much more to Lando than his hapless antics. He’s unexpectedly clever, with a sharp wit to match. He’s passionate about racing, his eyes lighting up as he tells you about life on the circuit. And despite his lavish lifestyle, he’s remained remarkably down-to-earth.

Conversation flows easily between you two. You’re amazed at how you manage to lose track of time, the restaurant emptying out around you.

When Lando finally drives you home, you linger in the parking lot, neither of you wanting the night to end.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

Lando smiles. “Me too. Think it’s safe to say there were definitely some sparks between us.”

You groan at the terrible fire pun, shoving Lando playfully. His eyes gleam with mirth.

“In all seriousness, I’d love to see you again,” Lando says. “If you’re willing to take another chance on this walking fire hazard.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well, seeing as I’m trained to deal with hazards ...”

Lando perks up hopefully. You grin and lean over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I would love to see you again. And until then … just please stay away from anything flammable.”

***

A few months have passed since your unusual first encounters with Lando. To your surprise and delight, you’ve settled into an easy relationship that feels almost like second nature. Lando has been actively planning creative dates, seemingly determined to take you on adventures across London.

It’s been a whirlwind of posh restaurants, West End shows, helicopter rides, and more. Lando delights in lavishing you with exclusive experiences. While you appreciate the gestures, your favorite nights are spent cuddled on the couch playing video games.

You’ve helped Lando gain basic competency in the kitchen. He can now make scrambled eggs and pasta unsupervised. Progress.

In turn, Lando has taken an interest in your life as a firefighter, asking for crazy stories and even visiting you at the station with treats for those on shift. He greets you after work with hearty meals — takeaway warmed up in the oven without any explosions — a welcome respite from having to worry that you would come home to find his house burnt to a crisp.

You’re touched by how you’ve each become such a fixture in the other’s unusual life so quickly.

One morning, the two of you are lounging on Lando’s couch during a rare shared day off when he suddenly perks up.

“The British Grand Prix is in a few months! I know it might be tough for you to get the weekend off but I would love it if you could come,” Lando suggests excitedly.

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? I would love to see your world up close.”

Lando grins and pulls you in for a kiss. “It’s a date then! Fair warning though, the garage can get a bit chaotic. But I can’t wait to show you off to my team.”

You laugh. “Well in my line of work, chaotic is the norm. I think I can handle it.”

On race day, Lando picks you up in a sleek McLaren emblazoned with his number. You take in the organized chaos of the paddock, amazed by the scale of it all.

Lando guides you through the sea of team members prepping for the big day. He greets his mechanics warmly, introducing you with a hand on the small of your back.

“Lads, meet my girl Y/N,” Lando announces proudly.

The mechanics appraise you curiously. One whistles under his breath. “Nice catch, Lando. She’s clearly out of your league.”

You laugh as Lando flips him off good-naturedly.

Another mechanic, Dan, gestures to your athletic frame. “So what is it you do, Y/N? Personal trainer? Athlete? Fitness influencer?”

You smile wryly. “I’m a firefighter, actually.”

Dan gapes in disbelief. “A firefighter? No way! But you’re so ...” He vaguely gestures at you.

You quirk an eyebrow. “So what? Girls can’t be firefighters?”

Dan holds up his hands quickly. “No no, course not! Just didn’t expect it, is all.”

Lando grins and squeezes your shoulder. “She’s saved my arse more times than I can count.”

You laugh. “He’s not wrong. Man’s a walking fire hazard.”

Lando’s team ribs him fondly about his cooking mishaps. But you can tell they’re impressed, regarding you with newfound admiration.

“Go on then, show us what you can do!” Dan cajoles.

You grin mischievously. “If you insist.”

Before Dan can react, you swoop down and lift him effortlessly into a fireman’s carry. The other mechanics whoop and holler as Dan flails comically over your shoulder.

After a few seconds, you gently set a very flustered Dan back down.

Lando lets out a low whistle. “Have I mentioned how hot it is when you go all firefighter on me?”

You smirk. “Never gets old seeing you boys underestimate me.”

Dan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, fair play. Reckon I earned that.”

You laugh good-naturedly and pat Dan on the back, assuring him no harm done. As you all chat, you notice Lando’s gaze lingering on you admiringly.

As race time nears, Lando has to start prepping with his team. But he keeps glancing over at you with a newfound awe. Your little display of strength clearly left an impression.

Soon it’s time for him to get in the car. You wish Lando luck with a quick kiss, giggling at the mechanics’ dramatic groans.

Once the race gets underway, you stand behind the monitors with Lando’s performance coach, cheering him on with every overtake. You join the crew in jumping to your feet when Lando crosses the chequered flag for an exhilarating podium finish. The garage explodes into celebration, and Lando sweeps you up into a spinning hug when he arrives.

“My good luck charm,” he proclaims, keeping you close as champagne sprays wildly.

Later at an afterparty for the drivers and teams, you sip cocktails under strings of lights. Lando proudly spins you around the dancefloor, making sure everyone can see you on his arm.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” Lando murmurs into your hair.

You grin. “Might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well I’m saying it again. You’re incredible, Y/N. Today was so much better getting to share it with you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in Lando’s eyes. You cup his face gently.

“Couldn’t imagine a better first Grand Prix. Thank you for inviting me into this part of your world.”

Lando smiles softly. “You’re the best part of my world now.”

Over the following weeks, you start to notice Lando looking at you with a new hunger in his eyes. The easy affection between you has shifted into something more wanton and primal.

One night, as you’re cooking a simple pasta dish together, Lando comes up behind you, hands encircling your waist. He plants a trail of kisses down your neck as his grip tightens possessively.

You lean back into him with a pleased hum. “Well hello there.”

“Mmm, ever since I saw you lift that mechanic, I just keep thinking about all the ways you could put that sexy strength to use,” Lando murmurs against your skin.

You grin and turn in his arms. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” You purr teasingly.

Lando crashes his lips to yours, backing you against the counter hungrily. You just barely remember to turn off the burner before completely losing yourself in the feel of him around you — one burnt pot of boiling water is more than enough for your relationship, thank you very much.

Later, lying spent and sated in Lando’s bed, he nuzzles against you. “Have to say, your skills in the bedroom rival your skills as a firefighter,” he jokes.

You swat his chest playfully. “Careful or I may have to break out some new moves on you.”

Lando’s eyes gleam. “Promise?”

You grin and roll on top of him, ready to stoke the flames between you once more. Though your relationship started unconventionally, it seems things with Lando will never stop burning hot.

[kpop-reactions-povs]

Stray kids- Pregnant wife insists on keeping her independence

⸻

Bang Chan

Chan understands independence — it’s part of what he loves about you. But the first time he finds you on a step stool trying to clean a cabinet at 7 months pregnant, his heart drops.

“Babe,” he says quietly, taking you by the waist. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to get it done before you got home—”

“No,” he breathes, voice shaking slightly. “I can’t let you do things that put you or our baby at risk. Please.”

You start to argue, but he cups your face. “I know you’re strong. But part of being strong is letting someone help. And I need you to let me help. It’s all I ever wanna do.”

⸻

Lee Know

Minho gets passive-aggressively soft. Not angry — just… overly helpful.

You reach for a bag. He’s already taking it from your hands.

You start sweeping. He appears with the vacuum.

Finally, you snap, “I can still do things!”

He blinks. “And I’m still going to stop you.”

You huff. “You’re so annoying.”

He leans in, smirking, “You’re carrying my kid. That means you’ve been upgraded to queen status. Queens don’t mop floors.”

He pulls you into his chest. “Let me take care of you. You already do everything else.”

⸻

Changbin

Changbin sees you carrying groceries and immediately rushes over.

“You should’ve called me!”

“It was just a few things,” you say, brushing him off.

“Still too much for my precious girl and my baby,” he pouts, unloading the bags.

Later, he sits you down and gently cups your hands. “I know you want to be independent. I love that about you. But when it comes to your safety? I won’t ever be chill. I just won’t.”

He kisses your knuckles. “Let me spoil you. Please.”

⸻

Hyunjin

Hyunjin is half dramatic, half whipped. He catches you on your knees scrubbing the floor and gasps like it’s the end of the world.

“WHAT are you doing?”

“Cleaning!”

“You’re pregnant, not Cinderella!”

You laugh, but he’s dead serious. He pulls you up and sits you on the couch.

“I admire your fire,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. “But I need you to save your energy for growing our baby, not fighting the dust bunnies.”

From then on, he makes every task a joint effort — chore time becomes cuddle breaks, cleaning turns into dancing, and you never scrub floors alone again.

⸻

Han

Han is a mess. He walks in on you lifting a box and goes full panic mode.

“NOPE. Nope nope nope.”

“Jisung, chill.”

“You’re not a forklift! You’re growing a baby! That’s your only job now!”

He takes over, still muttering under his breath like a cartoon character. Later that night, he apologizes, arms around you.

“I know I overreact. But I just… I love you so much, I can’t take any risks. I need you both safe.”

You kiss his cheek, and he melts.

“I’ll try not to panic next time,” he says, “but you gotta let me help sometimes too, okay?”

⸻

Felix

Felix is the softest. He sees you doing something — anything — and gently pulls you away without a word.

You frown. “I was fine.”

“I know,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “But why do things alone when I want to do them with you?”

You start to protest, and he smiles. “You’re the strongest person I know. But strong people still deserve rest. And you, my angel, deserve the world.”

That night, he makes your favorite meal, rubs your feet, and whispers, “You’ve done enough. Let me take care of you now.”

( Felix without makeup 🔛🔝)

Seungmin

Seungmin pretends to be chill. Until he catches you lifting a full laundry basket.

“Oh? So we’re carrying bricks now?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s laundry.”

He takes it from you anyway, giving you the look. “You can glare all you want. You’re banned from lifting anything that’s not a fork or a baby name list.”

Later, when you’re snuggled in bed, he rubs your back and says, “I know you don’t want to feel useless. But to me? You’re doing the most important job in the world. Let me do the rest.”

I.N (Jeongin)

Jeongin doesn’t fight you. He outsmarts you.

“Oh, you’re going to mop? Cool. I already did it.”

“You were going to vacuum? Done.”

“You wanted to walk to the store? Too bad. I already ordered snacks.”

Eventually, you call him out. “Stop babying me!”

He pauses, then cups your cheeks. “I’m not babying you. I’m loving you. And our baby. And this whole little life we’re building.”

He kisses your forehead. “Let me do it all, just for a little while. You’ve done enough.”

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me- matt sturniolo

part one

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

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

your pov.

“and y/n l/n, your assigned seat is next to matthew sturniolo.” my new math teacher says with finality as his eyes sweep the room. “matthew, please raise your hand” he continues clearly acknowledging the fact that he doesn’t know any student by name yet.

while the teacher was making a rendezvous trying to figure out where matt was sitting, my eyes were bulging out of my head and matts usual stoic face turned into a scowl. we lock eyes and they harden at the sight of each other. matt scoffs before shifting his eyes to the teacher, and I already know he's going to protest before he says a word.

“teach, i know you don’t know me, but my birthdays tommorrow, and i don’t really do y/n." he says while rudely gesturing to my figure, "sooo, you gotta switch the seating chart up.” matt pierces me with his gaze before offering the teacher a very fake smile.  mr. dunn, the name I assume is his considering that its written on the whiteboard, just looks back at him clearly unimpressed with his negotiation skills. matt takes the hint and tries again. “for everyone else’s sake?” he questions and  gestures to the rest of students in the room. everyone bobs their heads up and down in silent agreement. 

its no secret that me and matthew don’t get along. ever since freshman year, we’ve had a strange animosity towards each other. matt carries himself like he’s better than everyone else. he does it even now, trying to negotiate with the teacher like he makes the rules. i can’t help but agree with him, though. if we end up sitting next to each other it will be a huge distraction. matt and i have been escorted out of classrooms for starting screaming matches before. 

“your all gonna have to deal with it. this is not my problem” mr. dunn says completely blowing everyone off. I drag my feet over to matt, sighing as i let the year ahead of us sink in. “way to go tiger, maybe if you had asked instead of demanded in the first place, he might of listened.” I say as I plop down into my seat.

“okay well, at least i said something. didn’t hear you talkin” he replies smugly and folds his arms over his chest.  Even though he’s acting like a child, i have to stop myself from openly gawking at his arm

 damn, tattoos are definitely my thing.

“the fuck you looking at.” he snaps. 

tattoos are definitely NOT my thing.

i roll my eyes.  “nothing, mop” i  smirk as soon as i say it  because i know how much he hates that stupid nickname. 

“stop calling me that!” matt says a little too loudly causing the teacher to spin around from the white board and glare in his direction. matt quickly shuts his mouth and starts to play with the strings of his hoodie in shame. i can’t stop the laugh that ripples through my chest at matts’ pussy reaction. mr. dunn swings his glare to me, but ,unlike matt, i don’t care. 

i’ll just switch out this class, simple.

 i make up my mind then and there. i'm not dealing with matt  AND a shitty teacher. 

“anywayss” mr. dunn drones on turning back to the white board  still annoyed by the disruption. i look back over at matt to make fun of him, only to see his eyes shut tight and his whole body tensed up. i can see the lean muscles in his forearms bulging from the strain. 

“um what are you doing??” i question more than a little confused. he snaps out of it and slowly opens his eyes. “mind your business” he mutters.

this is going to be a longgg year. 

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

matts pov.

“chris im telling you, i almost lost it in there.” i say panicked as i pace around my room. we’ve been out of school for about 8 hours and i’m still stressed about it. about almost losing control and killing everyone in the classroom today.

 chris gets up and grabs my shoulders. 

“bro its okay. it happens, give yourself a break. not very many vampires control themselves the way you do. when they get angry, they just snap.” chris says more casually then anyone else would on the subject, like its a normal thing. but both him and i know that nothing about what we are is normal. 

i take a deep breath, my eyes straining from the stress of it all. “i just don’t know why i let her get under my skin like that, you know. i shouldn’t ever feel like i'm about to “snap”", I say frustration seeping through my tone. i continue to take quick steps around the room, paying unnecessarily close attention to each step.

 if she had any idea what i was, she’d never bother me again, a dark voice in my mind breaks through, much to my annoyance.

 its true, us vampires are monsters through and through. even ones like me, chris, and nick who try our best to be good. we may act and look the part, but our desires are always evil. we will always be evil.

“sooo, are you excited to find out who your mate is, or what?” chris' voice cuts through the quiet that settled in the room, making my thoughts reel in a different direction.

turning day. the day in which a vampire is born. once a vampire has hit 10 yrs since their turning day,  their mates are revealed to them. its like a bomb goes off in their head and suddenly they feel completely connected to someone else.  like their souls are one, or so I've heard.

“snap out of it matt! stop spacing out and shit, its getting really annoying” chris says clearly agitated i didn’t answer his question from earlier.

“sorry” i answer sitting next to him on my bed.  after that theres a brief silence, me and chris left alone with our own thoughts. 

“Are you excited though?” chris ask quietly, clearly conflicted himself. i’m not the only one getting a mate, after all, chris and nick turned the same day i did. 

you were born on the same day and you died on the same day. what a coincidence, my dark inner voice practically chuckled at the revelation. I shudder from the thought of it.

i take a deep breath and close my eyes as i feel the stress returning. 

“i just hope shes not human.” I whisper, almost more to myself then to chris.

“yeah, me too.” chris agrees and i hum in response. its late at night, me and chris have been hanging out and nicks nowhere to be found. 

“where’s nick?” i ask. chris gets up and stretches. “i have no idea bro.” he yawns. “ but i gotta go to bed, im tired as shit. tell eachother about our mates in the morning?” chris ask, turning to me before actually leaving my room. 

“yeah sure” I replied, even though we both know neither of us are going to want to talk about it.

 we are going to want to find them and claim them as ours.

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

my alarm clock goes off. I threw the covers off my body, hot all of a sudden. vampires dont get hot. i roll my eyes. it must be the stupid mating bond thing, then.

i shut my eyes, knowing that the first person i see is going to be  my mate for life.

please let her be pretty and please let her not be human. 

one, two, three seconds go by, but still nothing. Then, her face pops up in my mind.

“FUCK” i scream. 

at least she’s pretty

a worried chris runs into my room. “what? what's wrong, matt?” he shakes my shoulders trying to get an answer. i look up at him slowly.

“its y/n” i whisper. 

@bbernard-03

@mattslolita

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Random ridiculous thot: Lloyd wearing one of his expensive, too tight polos + a ridiculous banana hammock thong speedo + his favorite pair of loafers, just because 🤣

Likely to try to get a rise, or maybe a laugh, out of you bwahaha.

The Cleaning Crew

Not much darkness, just Lloyd being his damn self.

The house is quiet thought the remnants of a rowdy night remain. You let yourself in through the front door, fingers curled under the hanger hooks that threaten to bend your tendons too far. Your toe meets an errant scotch bottle that rolls and hits the wall. 

Your next sole comes down on a pair of lacy panties. You lift your foot and turn. Odd how your employer insists that you leave your shoes at the door only to make such a mess. You suspect he likes to make you earn your money. 

The scene is akin to the morning after a frat party, though Mr. Hansen is well past those years. So are you. You go into the front room. You tut at the food on the floor and across the tinted glass coffee table.  

You go to the closet and roll out the rack to hang the shirts. You have no doubt he’s still passed out somewhere and you’re not stupid enough to wake him. Especially if he emptied that scotch bottle on his own. 

You leave the closet door open and turn, hands on hips, and sigh at the work ahead of you. He pays you well enough but you often ponder branching out. It’s not just the work, it’s him. 

You start by sweep the food and crumpled napkins, and panties into a pile. Then you work on the furniture. You’ll have to steam out the crushed quiche. Why bother with catering when it just ends up like this? 

Such a waste. You scratch dried soft cheese off the armrest. That’ll stink sooner than later. 

You dust off your hands and go to the window. You need to air this place out. You wrench open the curtain and gasp. You think you found the owner of those panties. 

The woman is passed out on the window seat, no shirt, her skirt barely on her pelvis. Her makeup is smeared and her hair is a jungle. You back up and tut. You go to retrieve the throw blanket from the seat of the velvet chair and over her with it. 

You carefully reach over her and unlatch a pane. You push it out to let in the air. You don’t judge her, you just wish better decisions are in her future. Hansen seems to be a good teacher as you’ve never seen the same lost soul twice. 

You clear away the litter then tend to the steaming of the furniture. In the cracks you find jewelry and a few bills. You leave those on the mantle.  

The vacuum doesn’t rouse the woman. You run it through the front rooms and around the kitchen and halls. You’re thorough as the morning dint shifts through the window. Next, you get out the mop and cleanse away the spilled alcohol and food. 

As you carry the bucket through the front room, your met with an unexpected sight. Hansen stand shamelessly in nothing but a skimpy pair of undergarments and velvet loafers. You’re not sure what you’d term the attire as his cheeks are out and the front is bunched into the fabric. 

His lashes are low as he dozily slips a polo from the hanger, fighting the protective plastic sheath. He growls and dispenses the latter. He swoops up the shirt over his mussed hair and grumbles, running his hand down the violet fabric with the little gold fleur-de-lis. 

You set the bucket down and scoop up the plastic bag. He sniffs and looks at you. 

“Morning,” he croaks through a dry throat. “You missed a spot.” 

He points past you to the window. The woman remains unconscious. You look at him and lift your brows. 

“You were supposed to bring these yesterday,” he poses in the shirt, his naked legs make you think of a chicken, you’re sure he’d claim the title of rooster. “Gotta go see mommy tonight. She’ll be expecting the best of baby boy.” He tugs at the hem, flexing his chest beneath the taut shirt. “Think she’ll approve?” 

You hold back the dry retort and a grimace. 

“Maybe with a pair of slacks,” you suggest. 

He cackles and taps the end of your nose, “that’s why I keep you around, Dusty.” 

You don’t react to the touch or the nickname. That’s the thing about Hansen. He wants a reaction. You’ve found the best tactic is to give none. It’s professional grey rocking. 

“So, do you need a car for tonight--” 

“I’ll be sober as a taint,” he rolls his eyes. “Mummy doesn’t like to see me drink.” 

His derision isn’t surprising. You’ve met his mother. Peripherally. It helped you understand him and the woman on the window seat. 

“Get a car for that one,” he points past you. “And any others you find.” 

“Sir,” you affirm and grab the bucket and mop. 

“Oh, and upstairs... brace yourself for that bathroom. Drysdale didn’t make it past the first course.” 

You nod, “yes, sir.” 

“But first, coffee.” He yawns and clutch his head, “I’ll take cream, whiskey, and two advil in it.” 

You step past him and his soles scuff on the floor. You go to dump the dirty water down the toilet and rinse the bucket and mop. You put it in the cleaning closet at the back of the kitchen and wash your hands. 

You measure and tap out the espresso before shoving the metal cup into the overcomplicated espresso machine. When Hansen got the thing, you asked how to use it. He shrugged and told you to figure it out. A typical command. 

“Ugh,” Hansen straggles in, still without pants. He shameless scratches his crotch. “I feel like a beat dog.” 

You don’t comment. You know better than to chide him for drinking too much. You won’t even point out he did it to himself. He’s an adult, even if he isn’t very mature. 

“The clutter in the window,” he rubs his cheeks and yawns, elbows on the counter as he leans. “It needs to be gone by the time I finish my coffee.” 

“Understood.” 

“Only fucking woman I know that can,” he mutters as he holds his head and groans again. 

You let the comment roll off you. Again, he wants a retort. Wants your hackles up. You can tell as he peeks up between his fingers. He won’t get that from you. 

“I’ll see if I can find the rest of her clothes.” 

“Well, she didn’t take em off with me,” he sits up and stretches his arms. “She passed out before we got that far.” 

“And the upstairs bathroom?” 

“Hugh will sort himself out. He’s like a cat. Leave him some water.” Hansen chuckles. “Guy’s fucked up. More than usual.” 

You turn so your thoughts don’t show. You steam the espresso and brew the cortado with hot water, adding cream, and set it before him. You go to fetch the pain killers and when you return, he’s pouring liquor from a flask into the mug. 

“I’ll deal with the guests now,” you inform him. 

“You know where the taser is,” he kids. You round the counter as he shifts. He reaches back to tug the underwear out of his ass. “These’ll need to go to the cleaner with your next batch.” 

You leave him and shake your head as you get to the front room. The visit with his mother explains a lot. He always acts out before he has to go beg for more of his trust. Nothing you need to worry about. Your work is simple. Mind the manchild’s mess. Just in the house, not beyond that. 

[staytinyweeniebeanie]

Han's Moving Castle (Part 2)

Pairing(s): Howl!Han Jisung x Sophie!reader

Content: Howl’s Moving Castle AU, fluff, found family vibes, idiots falling in love

Warning(s): suggestive themes, some explicit language, brief mentions of war

Word Count:  8.2k

Summary: Your adventures with Han the wizard continue! But things are heating up, in more ways than one. 

A/N: Please heed the updated warnings! We’ve bumped the rating of this tooth-rotting fluff into something slightly steamy~ read at your own risk. Additionally, I’ve deviated from the original story line a bit more to make certain plot points work better! Happy reading 

Part one | Part two

My masterlist 💕

All credit for the fan art in the cover image to the amazing artist (captioned)!

Cobwebs and dust bunnies the size of real bunnies rain down from the ceiling as you angrily sweep your broom as high as you can reach. You were channeling your anger over the whole aged-50-years-and-can’t-even-complain-about-it situation into cleaning every nook and cranny of the disgusting castle, heaven knows it hasn’t been cleaned in years, if ever.

“I’m sick of wizards, and aching joints, and being treated like some timid old lady!” you grumble as you aggressively clear out pile after pile of junk scattered throughout the living room. 

Amidst all the clutter you uncover a family of mice and the fact that the living space has been neglected to such an extent that there are critters and bugs makes you sweep even more aggressively.

Clouds of dust escape through the open windows and out onto the busy street below. You barely catch Jeongin muttering something that sounds like, “I’m not paid enough for this” as he rushes outside with his disguise and a thick book. It would seem he’s got a table set-up just in front of the shop to avoid your path of disinfecting. At least someone in this place has some sense.

Dusting, mopping, scrubbing, organizing, rearranging – you flit around the first floor completely immersed in your tasks. A couple hours must have passed when suddenly, whining from a very small looking Minho reaches your ears. 

You glance over and see that Minho’s flame has dwindled significantly, you figure this is the perfect time to clear the ashes out of his hearth. 

“Hey! Hey lady! Y/N, you gotta help me, you need to get me more firewood and quickly” his eyes are big and pitiful looking as he complains, but you just roll your eyes and grab some tongs. 

You pick up the last bit of firewood Minho’s clinging to and plop him into a metal canister. Minho’s still being dramatic, fussing that he’s going out, but you pay him no mind, humming as you start to clear out the ashes onto a waiting sheet on the floor.

If you were paying closer attention to the little fire demon, you’d see him clinging to the last nub of wood, desperately trying not to let go. Minho calls for help, begs you to hurry up, but you’re so close to finishing up! 

He can wait a minute more, you think as you tie off the bundle of ashes and go to dispose of them outside. 

The bit of wood crumbles and Minho falls into the canister with a yelp. A small ring of smoke drifts up and just for a moment, Minho’s flame goes out. 

When you walk back in you’re surprised to see Han bent over in front of the hearth. He’s got his hand extended over Minho (who’s sitting on two fresh logs you notice) and seems to be coaxing his bright orange flame higher. 

Han stands up tall and turns to you with a tight smile, his body language is full of tension. The warning look in his eyes freezes you to the spot and you anxiously twist your fingers up in your apron, suddenly feeling like you’ve overstepped. 

“Yah! I’d appreciate it if you didn’t torment my friend,” Han says. It sounds like he was going for a joking tone but it fell flat. 

You hear Jeongin coming back inside through the door behind you, but your attention is fixed on the wizard walking purposefully towards you. While Han hasn’t been cruel or even a little bit mean towards you this whole time, maybe you’ve exhausted his patience and he’s coming over to punish you…

You gasp and quickly stumble back, but Han breezes past you and down the stairs to the door. 

“Master Han, are you going back out?” Jeongin asks.

Han turns the dial to the black color and looks back over his shoulder with that same closed-lipped polite-but-strained smile and dull eyes as he addresses his apprentice, “Make sure the cleaning lady doesn’t do too much, yeah Innie?”

Without waiting for an answer, he opens the door and flies off into a pitch black abyss, and the door slams shut behind him.

Jeongin is giving you major side-eye when you turn to him and he asks, “Y/N… What did you do now?” 

“She almost killed me!” Minho butts in immediately, “If I die, Han dies too, I hope you know that, lady!”

You sigh at the theatrics, surely the fire demon is exaggerating. You could probably just light a match and he’d be back to his annoying self.  

“Oh hush, you were fine!” you remind him and shuffle over to grab your bucket and scrubbing brush. “Anyways, I’ve got a job to do.” 

As you head towards the stairs to start on cleaning the upper levels, Jeongin darts past you and spreads his long limbs out to block you from continuing. “Hold on! You can’t come up here yet!” he shouts, and looks nervously over his shoulder, up into the hallway.

“Whatever you don’t want me to clean, you better take care of it now~” you sing, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Jeongin squawks “Save my room for last! Han-hyung’s room and bathroom will take forever anyways!” He trips over his feet as he turns to run the rest of the way up the stairs, and you just chuckle to yourself. 

When you make it to the next level, you’re dismayed but not surprised that it’s just as dirty up here. You open the first door to your left and discover an equally dirty bathroom, only, it looks as if a paint bomb went off inside. There are streaks of color everywhere: the walls, the sink, the tub (that is still full of steaming hot water), and even the toilet, which the state of that particular fixture makes you gag. 

Letting out a groan of exasperation, you march over and throw open the windows. 

You stick your head outside to huff the fresh air but instead find yourself dazzled by the amazing view. The physical castle is still lumbering through the Wastes, but the mountainous area you’re in is beautiful. Currently, the moving castle is travelling along the edge of a steep cliff and you can spot a meandering river way down below.

“This is incredible! Minho? Minho!” You shout in the direction of the stairs, “Minho, is it you moving the castle?!” You turn and rush towards the top of the stairs to hear his answer.

“Of course it’s me,” He shouts back from his hearth, “ No one else does any work around here!”

You lean over the railing, overflowing with amazement and you grin widely at Minho, “Well you are one impressive fire demon and I like your spark!” You wink at him and giggle as you skip back to the bathroom.

You don’t see the way Minho has taken on a pink hue and how his flames shoot higher and spark wildly as he repeats your words with glee. 

You take it upon yourself to explore the rest of the upper levels of the castle, stumbling upon the hallway that contains Jeongin’s room and he rushes through piles of clothes on the floor to close his door, shouting “Not ready yet!” You pay him no mind, yanking open another door to find a small balcony.

The wind whips your hair and clothes around as you step outside to take in the view and after a few minutes, Jeongin joins you. 

He’s leaning on the railing in a way that slightly concerns you, because you just met him, but already know about his penchant for clumsiness. 

However, he just gives you a big toothy smile and his eyes turn into little crescents. The sight is so cute that you set aside your nagging and just enjoy the moment. 

Jeongin is telling you about the lake off in the distance, Star Lake he called it, when you both notice a big branch sticking out of an opening to the castle below the balcony. A very familiar looking branch. 

“Oh dear, help me with this Jeongin?” You grunt and lean over the railing to get a good hold of the branch, and together, you and the apprentice manage to get it unstuck and turned upright. 

“It’s a scarecrow!” Jeongin’s eyes are wide as he takes in the elaborately dressed figure. 

You shake your head fondly, and dust off your apron. “I’ve taken to calling him Turnip Head, and somehow he always manages to get stuck upside down.” 

Looking closely, you swear the scarecrow’s smile grows wider and it gives you that characteristic twirl before hopping off and jumping in place on one of the castle’s large steel pipes. 

“He keeps following me everywhere, like a stray cat,” you comment to Jeongin as you both watch Turnip Head hop around. “Seems to have taken a liking to me,” you finish and shrug. 

Jeongin looks at you consideringly, “That’s weird, are you sure you’re not a witch?” 

You cackle and ruffle his hair, “Oh yes, I’m the worst kind of witch! The kind that cleans!”

The castle settles close to the edge of Star Lake with many clanks and creaks of settling parts, and you, Jeongin, and Turnip Head spend a peaceful afternoon together. 

You do load after load of laundry and Turnip Head is full of energy as he helps set up drying lines. You think the scarecrow is still trying to find ways to repay you. 

Once that’s done, you and Jeongin set up a table right by the lake and have lunch. You're feeling deeply content, sipping tea and relaxing in the sun. 

You and Jeongin chat about whether Turnip Head is a demon or not (you decide yes, but definitely the good kind, like Minho), and what chores you still have left to do, and Jeongin’s interest in fashion, hence all the clothes in his room.

It’s getting late by the time Jeongin convinces you to come back inside, the sun is setting and all the laundry has been folded and put away. Even Turnip Head is ready to go in his new favorite spot on top of a pipe sticking out of the castle. So you amble inside the warm castle, and settle in for the night. 

It is the early morning hours, just before dawn breaks, by the time the dial over the door switches to black and Han creeps inside. His once pristine outfit is gone, replaced with deep midnight blue feathers and talons. 

He falls into the chair in front of the hearth with a heaving sigh, drops his head back, and props his taloned feet up. 

“Jisungie are you okay? You stink,” Minho looks over the wizard with concern. 

Han groans and the feathers recede slowly until his regular body is back. 

“You shouldn’t keep flying around like that,” Minho continues to scold him, “Soon you’ll be stuck in that form and won’t turn back human.” 

Hearing no reply, Minho decides to let up on the nagging for now. 

His eyes land on the neatly stacked firewood nearby and he grabs a log and smiles, “Isn’t this nice? Y/N put these here for me and I didn’t even have to threaten her.”    

This seems to get Han’s attention, he sits up and grunts in pain, adjusting his jacket to hold his aching ribs. 

“This war is awful,” Han begins, “They’ve bombed all the way from the southern coast to the northern border. It’s all in flames now…” His voice wavers at the end, thinking of all the destruction the pointless war has brought.

The whispered debrief continues, Minho offering commentary here and there, but also keeping an eye on the way Han seems drained of all energy and life. Minho tried to warn the wizard against flying off and interfering with the war ships’ bombing but no one ever listens to him. 

“Wait-” Minho interjects as he tunes back into Han’s tirade about wizards sacrificing their humanity for the war, “aren’t you supposed to report to the king, too?” 

Han avoids his eyes and stands, waving his hand dismissively. 

“I’m tired,” he claims and starts to walk off, “make some hot water for my bath please, Jagi.” 

Han ignores the predictable complaining from Minho and walks over to the drawn curtain on the alcove under the stairs where the daybed sits. 

Presumably, this is where you are sleeping as there are no other beds besides his and Jeongin’s in the castle and while you’ve been very bold and unapologetic with him so far, he doesn’t think you’d dare to intrude on his bed and Jeongin doesn’t like to share. Han makes a mental note to procure another bed for you soon as he carefully parts the curtain to take a peek. 

Sure enough, you are curled up under a thick blanket, but Han is frozen in place at the sight of your young and achingly familiar face instead of the wrinkled face of his new cleaning lady. As you take deep and even breathes, his eyes trace greedily over your features. 

Each detail is just as he remembered: your pretty eyelashes, your cute nose, your soft-looking lips. And your hair, longer and not silver, is splayed across your pillow, loose from its usual braid.   

His mind races as he connects the dots that in the time between dropping you off at the bakery, and you wandering into his castle, you’ve had a curse put on you. One that has turned you into an elderly version of yourself, and it’s probably a curse you can’t speak about.  

The moment stretches on and Han feels guilt well up inside of him that you were cursed for associating with him for just a few moments. But he also feels something warm and tender, unnameable, because all this time, you’ve been right under his nose. The girl he’s been dreaming about… 

A sharp pop of burning wood snaps Han out of the spell you’ve unknowingly put him under. He gently lets the curtain fall closed again, and retreats upstairs, avoiding Minho’s penetrating gaze once again.

The next day started off well enough… 

Despite being jolted awake by the roaring sound of water rushing into the tub upstairs in the early morning, you’re cheerful and upbeat as you drag Jeongin out onto the bustling streets of Porthaven for the morning market. 

Not even his grumpy mood and petulant comments about the ocean looking “the same it always looks” or pretending to hate vegetables and fish bring you down.

Everything is normal until a broken down battleship appears in the harbor, drawing all the townsfolk to the docks. 

Market stalls now closed, you and Jeongin wandered over to see what all the fuss was about. 

Just as you were about to give into Jeongin’s pleading to get a closer look, you spotted the Wizard of the Waste’s henchman in the crowd and your heart rate ratcheted up. 

As if that weren’t enough, bombs from an enemy airship were dropped into the harbor, flyers fluttering in the wind behind the ship, and panicked people running through the streets.

Not sparing a second, you snatched Jeongin up and began running as quickly as your old bones would allow, leaning heavily on your cane. You don’t stop until you’re both inside the castle, the door shut tight and locked behind you. 

You’re panting and leaning on the wall for support, who knew you could move that fast in your old age? 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Jeongin looks so worried for you and he tries to help you up the steps, it’s surprising and sweet how much he seems to care about you.

“I just need a glass of water,” you wheeze and hobble over to the chair. 

Just as you plop down, an ear-splitting shriek comes from upstairs. 

Terrified that something happened to Han, you jump up and Jeongin rushes over to you.

Thunderous footsteps and then a bright orange-haired Han is leaning over the railing, not a stitch of fabric on his steaming, dripping wet body besides a little white towel around his waist… Did Minho bump the temperature in the castle up a few degrees while you were out?

“Y/N! You’ve ruined me!” Han wails, and rushes down the stairs, “Look what you’ve done to my hair!” he demands, gripping his hair tight in his fists as he darts over to you.

Han basically shoves his head right into your face until all you can see are the tangerine-colored locks and you think it looks quite pretty on him. It’s a similar shade to Jeongin’s but much more vivid.  

“What a pretty color,” you say truthfully, but Han is having none of it. 

“It’s hideous!” He cries, big pouty eyes boring into yours, all shiny with the start of tears as he sinks to his knees. 

Your foolish brain can’t help but note how tempting Han looks right now, on his knees and pouting at you. All honeyed skin, and broad chest with the most grabbable waist…

“You completely ruined my potions in the bathroom!” He accuses, and a startled laugh slips out of you as you forcefully drag your mind out of the gutter. 

Your face feels hot and flushed but you smile fondly at the wizard. “Han, I just organized them! Nothing is ruined, I promise!”

A truly pitiful whimper is all Han offers and there are definitely tears now.

“I specifically told you not to get carried away and now look!” Han flops into the chair you were just sitting in, in front of the hearth, and drops his head into his hands, “I’m repulsive, I can’t go on like this.”

You’re trying to find the words to reassure him (it truly doesn’t look that bad!) when the strands of hair start to rapidly change color. The orange fades into burgundy red, then deep brown, and finally settling into a glossy black shade. 

“You should look at it now, I think this new color is even better!” you offer, but it’s like Han doesn’t even hear you, head still resting in his hands in a defeated hunched over position. 

“I give up,” he whispers dejectedly, “what’s the point of living if I can’t be beautiful?”

Shadows start to creep up the walls and slink across the floor and the castle seems to be warping into something sinister. All of the light aside from Minho’s flames is sucked away and an awful howling sounds starts up. 

Minho is yelling at Han to stop whatever it is he’s doing and you fearfully grasp Jeongin’s arm as the shadows fill the room.

“Hannie-hyung is calling the Spirits of Darkness,” Jeongin whispers to you, holding you just as tightly as you’re holding him.

 “I saw him do this once before, when he couldn’t get the lyrics right for a song he was writing”

You scoff, yet dig deep to try and find some patience for silly, dramatic wizards. 

Adopting a comforting tone, you try again, “Now Hannie, you’ll be alright, we can just dye it back–” 

The words die in your throat as your hand touches his shoulder because Han’s skin is secreting some weird green goo and you gasp, pulling away quickly. 

The goo oozes from his whole body, dripping onto the floor and your patience has officially run out, you’ve had just about enough of this drama!

“You think you’ve got it bad?!” Your voice cracks at the end and you’re ashamed to feel hot, stinging tears welling up in your eyes. 

“No one spares me a second glance because I’ve never been beautiful my whole life!” you sob and run over to the door, not even caring about what setting the dial is on. 

You have got to get out of this blasted house right this second!

The raining landscape of the Wastes greets you and you run down to the lake edge. Stopping just short of the water line you stare out into the distance and sniffle, trying to hold it together. 

But nothing can stop your shuddering breaths and the deep well of sadness that has overflowed within you, so you let go and just cry.

Rain soaks your clothes and tears soak your face as you weep. 

Your bawling has simmered down to sniffles and a much slower stream of tears when you notice that the freezing raindrops that were pelting you abruptly stop. 

You look up in confusion and your heart melts when you see Turnip Head standing over you with a tattered umbrella and his signature smile. Water dripping from his straw hair and soaking his suit.

“Thank you Turnip Head, how’d you get to be so kind and gentle?” you give him a genuine smile and wish so strongly in that moment that you could hug him properly. You could use a hug from someone that cares about you. 

Alas, Jeongin is running towards you and tugging the sleeve of your dress urgently.

“Y/N please come back inside, we need your help!” he begs and starts yanking your arm in the direction of the castle. 

You sigh, but put your wallowing aside and follow him in.

The scene is, quite frankly, ridiculous. Minho is holding a half-burnt log over his head while trying to avoid the puddle of depression-goo creeping closer, yelling, “Han Jisung! You better cut it out right now! I’m going to drown!”

Han looks the same as when you fled, pathetically drooped over the hearth in just his towel, limbs all folded up, but now surrounded by depression goo. It’s covering the floor surrounding him and flooding the hearth.

Minho lets out a relieved puff of smoke when he sees you and calls out, “Y/N do something! Help him please, Y/N!” 

Jeongin comes through the door behind you and hovers, “Is he dead?” he asks you and looks at Han over your shoulder with a worried look on his face.

You chuckle and shake your head, rolling your wet sleeves up your arms, “No, Innie, he’s just throwing a tantrum like a child. Come give me a hand?”

Together, you and Jeongin push the chair (Han still slumped over in it) over to the stairs, and you tell Jeongin to get the hot water running while you sling Han’s arm over your shoulder and start dragging him up the stairs. The goo is not making this any easier as he’s especially slippery, and you try to prompt Han to help you by walking, his legs aren’t broken after all!

You sigh sadly as you glance back at the trail of slime he’s leaving all over your freshly scrubbed floors but then you spot that itty bitty white towel that should be around Han’s itty bitty waist laying innocently near the bottom of the stairs. 

You squeak and determinedly turn your face up to the ceiling so as to not catch a peek at the rest of the great Wizard Han Jisung until you can deposit him in the bathroom. 

Jeongin mock salutes you and promises to get him cleaned up and you close the door. 

“Now I have to mop again…” you release a big sigh and get to work. 

By the time you’ve calmed down after the crazy events of the morning and cleaned the floors (again) it’s midday. Han’s been camped out in his room ever since Jeongin got him cleaned up, so you decide to bring him a snack, a peace offering. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

There’s no answer when you knock firmly on his door, so you announce that you’re entering anyways and step into the messiest, most maximalist bedroom you’ve ever seen. 

Despite teasing Jeongin about cleaning his room earlier, you would never invade their privacy like that without permission. So this was your first time seeing Han’s room and yeah… cleaning and organizing this room would take you three days minimum.

Your wandering eyes finally land on Han, propped up by a couple pillows and tucked in as if he’s on his deathbed. 

You shake your head fondly and approach him, “Han? I brought you a little slice of cheesecake.” 

One eye peeks open to look at the plate in your hands before closing again just as quickly and you cover your laugh with a small cough.

“Do you want a bite?” you ask sweetly.

He shakes his head, so you shrug and place the plate on the only free spot on his nightstand. You turn to leave, figuring the wizard just wants to be alone, but a hand catches your wrist and gently tugs you back.

“Y/N, wait… stay,” he whispers.

You could easily break free and head back downstairs to be entertained by Minho and Jeongin, but tingles shoot up your arm from where his skin touches yours, and your cheeks heat at the implication that he wants you there. 

You take a seat on the edge of his bed, right beside his hip, and note that he is still loosely grasping your wrist, this fact makes you unreasonably flustered and you fidget with a loose thread on the comforter. 

It’s quiet for a moment, peaceful, until one of the many decorations hanging from the ceiling starts spinning wildly, bell chiming softly, and Han takes a deep breath and finally opens his eyes. 

“The Wizard of the Waste is searching for my castle,” he states, and you gasp, suddenly remembering.

“I saw his henchman at the harbor this morning!” 

Han’s face drops into a pout as he looks away from you, “I’m a coward, all I do is hide, and all the magic stuff is to keep people from realizing how scared and broken I am.” 

His tone is so defeated and self-deprecating, you squeeze the hand that’s still holding you in sympathy. Perhaps all of his dramatics are not solely the actions of a spoiled and immature man like you initially thought.

You decide to ask Han something you had wondered since you came to the castle.

“Han, why is the Wizard of the Waste after you in the first place?”

“We trained together, a long time ago, and became close friends. We were the most skilled students in our class, and the most beautiful,” you roll your eyes at that last part but continue to listen. 

“But all the attention made us competitive and we fought a lot. When our instructor chose me to be his apprentice, he was so angry at me that he left… but I was too afraid to go after him. As usual, I hid away.” 

Boys, you think to yourself and let loose a weary sigh. 

“I can’t hide much longer, though. I have to report to the king as both Han Jisung and J.One,” Han groans and releases your hand to cover his face with a pillow. 

You don’t see the big deal though, couldn’t he just refuse the king’s invitation? 

When you say as much, Han just points at a piece of paper pinned to the wall by a dagger, “That’s the oath I took when I joined the Royal JYP Sorcery Academy, I have to report to the palace whenever summoned.” he says, muffled under the pillow but you caught enough to understand. 

“I think you should see the king, Han!” You cross your arms defiantly and grin when he whips the pillow away from his face to stare at you in disbelief. 

“I’m serious! Tell him the war is pointless and that you refuse to take part!” you say passionately.

Han flops back dramatically and sighs like you’re being ridiculous, but before you can argue your point more he jumps up with a huge gasp and brings his face so close to yours your noses are practically touching. 

It would be so easy to kiss– you stop that train of thought before it can get too far.

“I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you go to the palace for me?” he practically shouts and you lean back to protect your ears (no other reason). 

“Just say you’re my mother,” he leans closer, you lean back, “and that your son is too much of a coward to show his face,” if you lean back any further, you’ll fall off the bed, “maybe then, Professor Chan will finally give up on me!” 

Han’s eyes are so big and starry with his excitement, especially this close up, and the proximity has completely derailed your critical thinking. That’s your excuse when the only thing you manage to say spit out is, “Do you have a mommy kink?”

You spend most of your walk to the palace theorizing what disguise Han will use to discreetly trail you. 

So far you’ve ruled out crow, pigeon, and foot soldier (you’re still tense after what happened trying to visit your sister). You think he could be one of those flamboyant pilots flying overhead in their little airships with beautiful women giggling behind them, or maybe a well-dressed gentleman having tea at a cafe you walk past. 

You twist the ring Han gave you around thoughtfully as you walk, recalling the way his deep voice rumbled in your ear as he slipped it on your pointer finger with a promise that it would keep you safe. 

You try not to think too deeply on the fact that it matches the one he wears and what it all means. 

The butterflies in your belly speak to how well that’s going.   

A short time later, you’re within the outer walls of the palace. You’re heading straight towards the impressive palace entrance across the courtyard when you hear little footsteps and the occasional panting noise behind you.

When you look over your shoulder, you see a little dog of all things, trotting along. 

It only comes up to your calves, must be a puppy you think. It has golden fur that’s shaggy in the front, almost covering its eyes, and big floppy ears. It’s an odd but very cute disguise.

You glance around to see if anyone is watching, “Han? You disguised yourself as a puppy?” you quietly ask him. The puppy only gives you a small bark and nips your ankle. 

“Ow! You little shit,” you yelp, and consider hitting him with your cane, “I’m just saying! You couldn’t pick something more useful? I’m an old lady after all!” 

Just as you face forward, a carriage pulls up beside you, carried by blob henchman you’ve seen before, and dread fills your stomach.

“Look who it is! The tacky doll from the hat shop,” drawls the Wizard of the Waste from the window of his opulent carriage. “Thanks for passing along my scorching love note to Han, how’s he doing by the way?”

Most of his face is hidden behind a fan, but you can see the way he looks you up and down and the edge of a smirk on his lips . 

Your temper flares hot and bright and you glance at puppy-Han to gauge his reaction, but he’s unphased, continuing to trot a half-step behind you, so you craft a half-true story.

“He’s acting like a scaredy cat, and he’s working me to the bone as his cleaning lady.” Okay, maybe that story was completely true…

The Wizard of the Waste giggles and closes the fan with a flourish. You can see all of his face now, and it just grinds your gears that he’s gorgeous. He’s wearing makeup that highlights his sharp features, and his long hair is artfully styled.

“So what business do you have at the palace, doll?” The wizard asks conversationally, fiddling with his hair in a small compact mirror.

“Job hunting, I’m sick of working for Han,” you lie, “And what about yourself?” You try to act disinterested.

“I received a royal invitation,” he purrs, looking quite pleased with himself. “That idiot, Bang Chan finally realized how much he needs my powers.” 

“If you’re so great, why don’t you break the curse you put on me!” You bite back, but he just  laughs again. 

“Sorry doll,” you really doubt that, “my talent lies in casting spells, not breaking them!” 

He snaps his fingers, and the henchman pick up the pace, taking the infuriating wizard away while you shout after them angrily.

You huff and cut your eyes over to the puppy, “If I didn’t have you to worry about, I would have whooped him!” you grumble. The puppy’s answering bark sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

Soon after, you approach the massive staircase that leads to the palace entrance. You spot the Wizard of the Waste, henchman suspiciously absent, slowly lumbering up the stairs in that heavy looking black fur coat, but pay him no mind and begin climbing the steps yourself.

You’ve only made it up a few stairs when you hear a high-pitched whine from the bottom. 

Of course Han chose a form that wasn’t big enough to climb the stairs on his own. He rests his snout on the bottom step and looks up at you with the biggest puppy eyes and you fold immediately with a big sigh.

Dog in hand, you start up the steps a second time, slower now with the extra weight. 

“Han! Why are you so heavy?” You grunt and curse him out thoroughly in your head.

When you pass the panting and profusely sweating Wizard, he pleads with you  to help him too. 

“What was that?” you call over your shoulder, “You remembered how to break the spell you put on me?” 

A loud and dramatic groan is all you get, so you keep on climbing. 

About halfway up, you set puppy-Han down and catch your breath. You look down at the Wizard of the Waste, so far behind you and absolutely gasping for air, with pity.

“Why don’t you just give up? You’re killing yourself!” you shout down to him.

“I’ve waited too long to be invited back here, ever since Bang Chan banished me to the Wastes!” he growls and brushes sweaty strands of hair from his face.

You almost feel bad for him, but then you remember your old body and harden your heart. 

“C’mon Han, let’s go,” you gather the puppy and continue climbing what feels like a mountain of stairs.

Once you make it to the top, you’re absolutely exhausted. You set the puppy down and almost keel over trying to catch your breath. 

One of the attendants of the castle politely requests that you follow him inside, but you feel a strange need to make sure the wizard that cursed you makes it to the top. Maybe his story did touch your heart a little bit.

With some encouraging cheers and pep talks (that were decidedly not appreciated) he makes it and you walk in together, puppy-Han right behind you of course. 

You notice that where before, the wizard towered above you with intimidating height, now he’s hunched over and small looking, relying on your cane to walk and still dripping sweat.

Your cover is almost blown when the staff announcing your presence call you “Mother of Han Jisung”, but the Wizard of the Waste, who’s name you now know is Hyunjin, is too focused on recovering from the stairs to notice.

The attendant that was leading the way directs you to a fancy room with a single chair, which is claimed by Hyunjin almost immediately. 

He quickly plops down and it’s like his bones turned to liquid the way he’s sinks into it, like he’s turned into a big ferret.

But you can’t focus on him because puppy-Han runs off down some dark corridor and he ignores your frantic calling to come back. 

With no choice, you hurry after him.

The corridor seems like a dead end, but a secret door slides open abruptly, startling you. Behind it stands a young boy in what looks like a fancy school uniform. He has a pleasant smile on his beautiful face when he says, “This way ma’am.” 

You don’t see puppy-Han anywhere, so this must be your only option, you think, and follow him into a huge conservatory. The walls and ceiling are made completely of glass and its idyllic inside, filled with huge eucalyptus trees and exotic flowers that you can’t even name.

The boy leads you to an open area where you spy two chairs, one big and ornate, and the other nice but plain looking. 

Sitting in the big chair is a man. Strong jaw, short dark hair, and casual clothes, he’s commanding and very attractive. Is that a requirement to work here? 

He chats with the boy that led you here for a moment before the boy leaves, and the man turns to address you.

“So you’re Han’s mother I hear?” he smiles and you notice two dimples pop out, you nod mindlessly. 

“You must be tired, have a seat!” he gestures to the other chair. 

You thank him and gingerly sit down.

“I am Professor Bang Chan, His Majesty’s head sorcerer and director of the Sorcery Training Academy, but you can just call me Chris!”

As he introduces himself, your eyes wander over to a staff resting on the side table right next to his chair, and they nearly pop out of your head when you see the puppy resting underneath it. 

“That’s not… your dog is it?” You cautiously ask. 

“His name is Seungmin,” Chris answers breezily, “He’s my errand dog, I had him escort you here.”

You nearly facepalm after hearing that. All the things you said, thinking he was Han! Surely he’ll use his doggy magic to tell on you to the professor.

The man in question lets out a rumbly chuckle and rests his chin on his fist, “I take it Han won’t be joining us?”

Determined to salvage the visit, you tell him the story you rehearsed the whole way over; about how Han is too cowardly to show up, and that he’d be useless to the king.

Chris has a contemplative look on his face as he takes this in and nods along with a sigh, like he’s disappointed. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Han was the first and last apprentice I ever took on. I’ve never seen a more well-rounded and gifted student,” he explains. 

You’re shocked to learn that Chris was training Han to be his replacement.

“Until the day his heart was stolen by a demon. He never returned to complete his apprenticeship and has been using his magic for reckless and selfish reasons ever since.” Chris’s voice grows more stern as he speaks and it has you sitting ramrod straight like a student getting scolded.

However, your respect towards Chris’s apparent wisdom and authority starts to waver when he starts to speak about Han’s morality, claiming that he’s “dangerous” now that he has no heart. 

How dare he compare him to the Wizard of the Waste!

“Bring him in.” Chris orders, and an identical boy to the one that brought you into the conservatory wheels in a nearly unrecognizable figure.

“What did you do to him?” you breathe out, horrified.

It’s Hyunjin, but gone is the smug attitude, and flashy clothes and makeup. Even his long, inky hair is gone. What’s left is a lean figure huddled up his now too-big fur coat, cowering from you when you go to touch his shoulder, with a buzzed head. 

“I just removed all the glamors and restored him to his natural state, all his powers are gone now.” Chris says evenly, watching you with a calculating look. “Once, he too was an impressive sorcerer with so much potential. But he fell prey to a demon of envy that slowly consumed him, body and soul.”   

You loathe the casual way that Chris is talking about all of this, like it’s a children’s story instead of real people’s lives. Like they are misbehaving pawns in his game of chess. 

“If Han reports to me and vows to use his powers to serve the kingdom, I’ll show him how to break from his demon,” Chris leans forward with his elbows on his knees and crosses his fingers in front of his face, his eyes are hard when you meet his gaze. “If not, I’ll strip him of all his powers. Just like that.” he gestures towards Hyunjin.

“That is enough!” You proclaim and shoot up from your chair. Seungmin jolts awake from his snoozing.

“Now I know why Han was too scared to come see you, this is all a trap! You lure people here with an invitation from the King and then strip them of all their powers!

“Han is not heartless! He may be selfish and cowardly, and certainly dramatic, but his intentions are good.”

You don’t notice, so wrapped up in your passionate speech, but the more you speak from your heart, the younger you get, until you’re back to your real age and normal body. 

“Han won’t come here and he doesn’t need your help. He can fix his problem with his demon on his own, I’m certain of it!” you finish, full of pride for your wizard.

It’s silent for a second, and then Chris full body laughs.

“Ahh, now I see,” Chris runs his hands through his hair and gathers himself, “You’re in love with Han Jisung.” 

You recoil, quickly reverting back to old-lady Y/N, and Hyunjin speaks up for the first time, grasping your skirts and crying about Han’s heart belonging to him. 

“Han is not coming here, okay? Stop that Hyunjin,” you try to placate him.

Chris settles back into his chair and sighs, “Oh I think he is, I now know his weakness.”

Outside the glass windows of the conservatory, you both watch a small airship land in the grass. One of Chris’s servant boys opens a door and in steps the King.

This is your first time seeing him up close and your first thought is that he’s jacked; thick arms and thighs, and a chest so buff it’s straining his jacket. He’s also shorter than you expected, probably shorter than Han. 

“King Changbin,” Chris bows from his seat and keeps a small smile on his face as they speak. You watch on quietly until the King asks about your presence.

Chris swings his arm out towards you and says, “This is Han Jisung’s mother, Mrs. Y/N.”

The King approaches you and stops just a foot away. You stare at his chin, where you notice a small scar, until you gather the courage to look into his eyes. 

King Changbin is just as handsome as all the ladies in your hat shop gushed about. You flush and give him an awkward curtsey.

“Thanks for coming,” King Changbin starts, “but I’ve decided not to use magic to win this war. We have tried using the Professor’s magic to shield our palace from the enemy’s bombs, but the bombs fall on civilian homes instead. That’s the problem with magic, isn’t it Professor Chan?” 

Chris still has that polite smile on his face as he tilts his head in acknowledgment, “You’re so eloquent today, Your Majesty.”

“Channie!” A different King Changbin yells and strides confidently over to your group, waving a paper over his head. 

 Bewildered, you look back and forth between the King that’s standing right in front of you and the one talking loudly with Chris about new battle plans, waving his hands animatedly. 

“We’re going to beat them to a pulp and get my Lixie back in no time!”

He suddenly notices the identical version of himself standing by your side and dissolves into a high-pitched laugh that’s so opposite to his overall masculine demeanor. 

“Channie this is the best double you’ve made of me yet! Ha! Keep up the good work!” and off he goes, loudly chattering until he disappears into another secret corridor. 

Settling back into his seat, Chris crosses his legs and regards you and not-King Changbin with a cool and amused look. 

You think your jaw is still somewhere on the floor. 

“So nice to see you again Jisung-ah, although that was a pretty weak disguise,” Chan says.

“You’re looking good Professer Chan” replies Han’s voice. 

You whip around and see that it truly is Han next to you, in the same outfit the King was wearing. 

“I wasn’t trying to trick you,” Han pulls you into his side with a protective arm around your waist and your traitorous heart flutters at the warmth, “I kept my oath and reported when summoned. Now mother and I will go.” 

Though it’s not the time, you mumble “I knew it was a mommy thing,” to yourself anyways.

“I think not,” Chris states and claps his hands twice. 

Huge waves of water materialize out of the floor under his chair and quickly fill the room, until you’re all submerged. 

The waves fade away and now you are suspended in the air, and much like that fateful meeting with Han, his arm is around your shoulders, keeping you steady. Distantly, you feel Hyunjin grasping your dress and trying to keep from being blown away. 

“Whatever you do, don’t look down,” Han warns lowly in your ear.

“I think it’s time you show Ms. Y/N what you really are, yeah?” Chris throws his arms out and grins wide.

What happens next, you don’t really understand. 

What looked like shooting stars zipped past and scattered balls of light everywhere. It was sort of beautiful. But when they turned into little human-like figures and started circling and chanting, you started to worry. 

Hyunjin was so scared, all he could do was whimper and hide his face in your dress. 

Then Han started to change.

The arm that was wrapped around you transformed into a huge wing with talons, and Han’s face sprouted feathers. It was like a great winged-beast was taking over him, a huge beast with sharp fangs. 

Painful cries escaped Han’s throat, but amidst the chaos, you saw Chris closing in with a big glowing staff raised over his head like a spear. 

Han saw Chris too but it was like he was frozen, just growling and staring at him. 

“Han, please listen to me! It’s a trap!” You begged, scrambling to cover Han’s eyes. 

It must have worked, Han shot up like a rocket. Just in time too, Chris’s staff pinned your hat to the chair you were sitting in earlier. 

You all flew up rapidly and burst out of the magic-scape and through the ceiling, sending shards of glass raining down everywhere.

Han’s huge wings protected you from any damage and they disappeared by the time he carefully deposited you and Hyunjin on the mini airship parked outside. 

He started the ship in a second and pulled away, but not before a certain dog came running and launched himself into your lap. 

“Baby, come sit up here!” Han had called, and you shifted Seungmin into Hyunjin’s lap and took the pilot seat. He ribbed you about your stowaways, but what were you supposed to do? Kick them off the airship?!    

It was harrowing, flying an airship for the first time with only a bit of reassurance from Han  before he departed to draw the palace’s airships away. 

You know he was just trying to distract you, saying all that stuff about you giving him the courage to face Chris, about you saving him, but it worked. You successfully navigated the three of you out of Kingsbury by following the glowing light of the ring that pointed to Minho.  

Which brings you to your current situation. 

It’s dark, you’ve flown (through rain mind you) all the way past your town and into the Wastes, and finally you can see the castle up ahead. 

“The castle is coming to meet us!” You yell over your shoulder to Hyunjin, who is bundled up in his coat and replies with “nice doggy”, and Seungmin, who pops his head out from inside Hyunjin’s coat to woof at you. 

Only, as you get closer, you realize something very important: you don’t know how to land this thing! 

Jeongin shouts your name and waves from his balcony and you grip the steering wheel of the airship tight. 

“Jeongin!”  you shout back, “Innie, help me! I don’t know how to land this thing!” 

It’s no matter, the mouth of the castle opens wide and you crash land it in its belly, which happens to be the living room. Bricks and beams of wood and furniture go flying. 

Jeongin rushes down the stairs, wading through the rubble and dust to get to you, but he stops short when he sees the Wizard of the Waste and a dog pop out first. “What the fu–”

“Innie, I’m home~” you sing and carefully pick your way over, tossing the now-detached steering wheel carelessly behind you. Jeongin holds his hands out to help guide you down and then yanks you into a hug, “Are you hurt? I missed you!” he cries and squeezes you tight.

You cradle his head close, “I’m okay and I missed you too!”

You rub your cheek against his until he pulls away with a whine, and it’s true, you’re so happy to be back home.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

We got to see some new characters, maybe learned the identities of previous ones 👀, and my my my things sure are developing with reader and Han…

And surprise! This story will have 3 parts! 

I just couldn’t fit everything into a second part unless I wanted to make it like 4x the length of the first part, and I want more time to flesh everything out properly.

Anyways, thanks for reading and see you for the 3rd and final part soon! 💗

This is a reimagining of Howl’s Moving Castle, in no way am I claiming the plot as my own work, only the reimagined characters belong to me (@staytinyweeniebeanie). Additionally, I do not consent to my work being reposted on other platforms without permission!

Reblogs and Comments are always welcome and highly appreciated!

dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics 

[samo64]

Baldi's Basics Headcanons that will never be canon but are funny to think about because they're living rent free in my brain

Playtime has extreme zoomies, like when something exciting happens she runs all over the walls and ceilings in the schoolhouse so fast not even the Principal could catch her, she's too fast!

Bully only bullies the player and not the other students because if he were to bully Playtime or Arts and Crafters he'd feel bad but with the player he don't care not even a tiny bit.

If the Principal were to open his eyes i think it would have a medusa kind off effect except he doesn't turn anyone into stone instead strikes fear into those who break the rules.

Since Johnny is the shop-keeper i think he would be also a school faculty member like the other staff, like he's the only teen who works in the faculty.

Gotta sweep would have an ability to switch broom brushes by jumping out of one so he's just the pole and jumps ans twists onto another.

Baldi since he's an Anim8tor model would have the ability to take parts of his body off with no blood or gore necessary but is there for comedic affect and don't worry he can easy re-attach them because his arms and legs are segmented.

Gotta sweep's heritage consists of cleaning products like mops, brooms and farm reapers.

1st prize's hands specifically his fingers would have some form of articulation where he can grip.

Dr. Reflex has seen how some people compare him to rodents and he takes quite offense to that.

Joe would be the one character that would make some memorable cameos kinda like Stan Lee in the marvel movies.

Mrs. Pomp's is more easly quick to anger than Baldi or Dr Reflex.

The Baldloons can phase through walls like actual ghosts and mostly travel in groups of five with Red considered the leader.

Null/Filename2 can communicate to his crab bink easily.

When Null/Filename 2 Sneezes he reveals his skin for a brief second.

Baldi and Principal made the murals in the detention room with the principal's mural being written by Baldi while Baldi's mural being written by the principal.

Baldi would have vivid memories of Susan and Andrew but are usually a blur

The other head's on Red Baldloon's body imitate the main head's expressions

The Baldloons can shape-shift into other people in the schoolhouse the only difference is that they can't change color or remove the party hats.

Red Baldloon loves to eat the walls, doors, entirety of the schoolhouse when he has the chance.

These ones are for PriniciBaldi shippers

if something goes horribly wrong in the schoolhouse to the point where everyone has to evacuate, Principal would rush in and get baldi holding him birdal style and Baldi thanking him by showering Principal in kisses leaving read lipstick marks.

Baldi would hug the principal too tightly making a cracking noise in the principal's spine.

If the principal were asleep in his office, baldi would come in say goodnight and give him a little kiss on the forehead.

Back to our regularly sceduled programming

i feel like Bladder loves Badsum too much.

The Test would carry around the chalkboard where chalkes is currently on so chalkles wouldn't have to fly off somewhere

[briarpatch-kids]

ALMOST THERE

Still need to sweep, mop, and then put things back in the drawers and wipe down the faces, but... theyre almost up!!!

Also, i still gotta touch up paint and get the countertop replaced with butcher block, but thats a goal for another week lol. The important part is the drawer faces are almost on. I started this refinishing project like 2 years ago so I'm proud of myself.

[nikoniclove]

Hello. I imagine that in the beginning of the three of them officially dating, Ace would be very cautious of JJ’s and Emily’s things. She would treat them with the absolute most respect and gentleness, and since she grew up in such an abusive environment her whole life, something like accidentally dropping a glass would make her spiral.

I still feel that way after moving away from my past and it really affects me more than I realize sometimes and I just kinda need to read my feelings like you describe them.

Would that be possible to write? (You’re amazing btw <3)

For you 💜

Set right after “Out Sick Pt 2” in Different Kind of Firsts.

A Broken Glass

TW: PTSD, glass injuries, minor descriptions of blood

You’re still recovering from the pulled muscle in your back. Emily and JJ invited you over, presumably for a change of scenery since you’ve been confined to your couch for more than a few days. It promptly turned into JJ massaging out the aches in your lower back and then doing other things in the name of relaxation, which spiraled into a lot of sex and a very twitchy back muscle. Emily already helped you with a patch, and you dry-swallowed some ibuprofen. She gave you a pointed look with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, and you obediently went to the kitchen for water.

You’re at the sink filling your glass when a spasm rips through your back. You gasp in pain. The glass shatters on the floor, water spilling everywhere. Your hands grip the sink ledge, as you breathe through the intense discomfort. As soon as you can stand it even a little bit, you crouch to the floor to pick up the pieces of glass. You’re more concerned about their stuff than your muscles, which tense painfully with the position you hold yourself in to clean up.

JJ skids around the corner. She grabs shoes from the door when she sees the broken glass. When she reaches out for you, you can’t help but flinch. It’s a learned response. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Baby, I don’t care about that. C’mon. You’ve gotta get off the floor. Your back must be killing you.” Again, JJ reaches out for you, stepping carefully into the mess. Again, you flinch, expecting a physical punishment for your clumsiness.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, collecting the glass pieces in your palms. “Is there a broom? If not, I can…” You try and scoop some of the smaller fragments, wincing as some of them bite into the sides of your palm.

“Baby, stop.” You freeze, your lip wedged between your teeth. “I don’t care about the broken glass. I care about you. Please, let me help you up.” Your body trembles, stuck in the crouch you’re in to clean up the mess you made. “Ace.”

——

There’s blood. The water on the floor is diluting it, but it’s coming from little cuts on her hands and feet. It’s dripping from her lip. The girl seems immobile, repeatedly apologizing and trying to clean it all up even at the cost of her own injuries and pain. JJ steels herself for the physical reaction; for some reason, it’s breaking her heart to see Ace flinch away from her. She loops her arms around the crouched form of the young woman and lifts her off the ground, momentarily grateful for her lean, slight form.

By the time Ace is sitting on the counter, Emily is in the kitchen too. The first thing she notices is the blood. The next is the near-disassociated state, complete with full body trembles; the third is the constant flow of apologies. “She flinches at physical touch,” JJ shares sadly.

“She did say she was a foster kid,” Emily comments. “PTSD is common in victims of child abuse.”

JJ clenches her jaw, hating everything in the young woman’s past that made her respond like this to a simple accident. “Baby,” JJ calls softly. “I’m going to look at your hands to get the glass pieces out, okay? It’s just me; it’s just JJ.”

Quickly Emily sweeps up the glass shards and mops up the water, eliminating any physical evidence that something broke. Hopefully it means when they can pull Ace back to reality, that she won’t sink immediately back into her head. “M’sorry. M’sorry. M’sorry.” Over and over again. It makes JJ want to cry. They’ve seen a disturbing amount of abuse cases. They’ve seen reactions like this. They know how ingrained something like this must be to cause this kind of response. “I’ll be better. I’m sorry. Don’t make me go,” Ace whimpers. That plea sends tears cascading down JJ’s cheeks, and she makes a promise to herself to protect Ace, no matter what.

“Love, come back to us,” Emily tries. “Out of your head. We’re not mad. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to go anywhere.” As she tries to pull Ace back to the surface, Emily wonders how hard it would be to track down the ones who instilled this reaction in such a kind-hearted young woman. Emily only manages to temper her rage because she knows it won’t help her bring Ace back to herself. “Look at me. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not in trouble.” It feels surreal telling that to a grown up, but Emily knows well enough that it’s Ace’s inner child reacting right now and not the grown up she’s become.

JJ picks pieces of glass out of Ace’s palms and feet little by little. She bandages what she can and uses liquid bandage for the rest. Every so often, she glances up to see how Emily is fairing, but Ace’s eyes are still squeezed tight, her lip caught between her teeth if she’s not apologizing repeatedly.

——

Another spasm clenches your back muscles, and you groan in pain, doubling forward. Emily braces your shoulders, whispering kindly in your ear. You blink slowly and try to understand how you ended up on the counter. Your recall is always splotchy when you disassociate. Your therapist says it’s your brain trying to protect yourself. Whatever the reason, you hate it because it feels so disorienting. Mostly you recognize the worry etched in JJ and Emily’s features, and you realize how much of your crazy they likely witnessed. “I should go,” you mumble, grimacing in pain when you put pressure on your palms to slip off the counter.

“Easy,” Emily soothes. “You don’t need to go anywhere. Just breathe.” Her stabilizing grip on your shoulders hasn’t left. “It’s okay. Are you back with us?”

You nod self consciously, licking your lips and tasting blood. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Sorry,” you apologize. You remember the trigger when JJ tries to hand you another glass of water. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to quell the rising panic. “No thank you.”

“Baby, it’s okay. Drink the water. Let us help.”

“No thank you. I… umm… I don’t want to risk breaking something else. I’ll replace the glass. I’m sorry.”

Emily’s fingers curl under your chin. “Look at me.” You fight your instincts and find her eyes. “We do not care about the glass. You are not in trouble. You don’t have to go anywhere. It’s okay. It was an accident. It’s okay.” Your vision blurs with tears, and you chew on your lip again. “Drink some water.” You shake your head, refusing to touch the glass. JJ turns away, coming back with a plastic cup. “Better?” Cautiously, you take it with two hands. “Slow sips. You’re okay.”

“That was your PTSD,” JJ wonders, rubbing your back comfortingly. You don’t understand the touch; you broke something and made a mess. You melted down in front of them. You don’t have a frame of reference for this, people who genuinely seem concerned about you.

“Some of it. I’m sorry. It’s a lot.”

“It’s okay,” JJ assures you, even if you don’t believe it. “We have our own demons rooting around in our heads too. We’re no strangers to PTSD. It’s okay, baby. We’ll learn how to help you in those moments. We’ll figure out the best ways to level you out.”

The question is off your lips before you can stop it. “Why? I mean… I can handle it on my own. I always have.”

For the second time in a week, Emily assures you that you don’t have to carry it alone. “We want to help.”

JJ cradles your cheek tenderly, and it feels soft and warm in a way you doubt one-night (two-night) stands are supposed to. You have nil for experience with sex, relationships, or people genuinely treating you with kindness, so you’re immensely confused. Your history tells you what to expect, but this gentleness is nowhere in that realm. “Remember when I asked you to loop us in the next time you got hurt or sick? Your brow furrowed then too. I can’t explain it now anymore than I could then. I promise you can trust us with this. We want to help.”

“Can you stand,” Emily asks. “We can get you in clean pajamas and into bed.”

“I really should leave you alone.”

Emily won’t let you look away, and the gentle look on her face makes your stomach flip flop in a way that certainly feels as close to butterflies as you’ve ever felt. “Does being along help? I can’t imagine it does, but everyone is different I suppose.” You have a choice. Lie to her, so you can lick your wounds in private. Or tell the truth and be uncomfortable with their concern and care. You find you have a hard time lying to her in a way that’s unusual for you. “We don’t want you to leave,” she says point-blank. “We don’t care about the broken glass. We’re not scared by the PTSD. None of that changes the arrangement we discussed or how much we want to explore that with you.”

“I can stand,” you mumble hesitantly. You ignore the pain in your feet from the glass cuts. You ignore the twinge in your back. If they’re going to care for you, you’re going to give them as little as humanely possible to be worried about, and your PTSD episode was more than enough for one day.

[themultifandomgal]

Hey you! I just read that you take requests for peaky blinders and I’m wondering if you could maybe write something for John x reader? Like from s1 when he calls for a family meeting, that he wants to marry Lizzie. But reader is there maybe she works with Grace at the bar and has known John since they were young. She was in love with him but he married Martha, reader helped with their kids and her births and when his wife died she stayed around to help John. But he never thought she looked at him like anything more than a brother. But Polly knew and Tommy too, so when John asks them about Lizzie in front of you. They all tell him he’s blind to not see how reader loves him and his kids. She is really sad cause she thinks he’s going through with the wedding to Lizzie but when he gets home that night and she’s watching the kids he finally talks to her and asks her how she really feels. Like he would see her in such a loving way he couldn’t even consider she’d ever want a man like him. A real cute ending would be lovely

John Shelby- Tell Me The Truth Pt1

I just realised writing this how similar to my last request this one is so this time I’ve used actual dialogue from the season 1. Might make this one into a little series. Hope you enjoy.

Also trigger warnings- swearing, talking about vomit, violence, the usual peaky blinders stuff.

“Oh for fucks sake” YN groans as a man vomits at the bar “I gotta clean that up now, fucking twat go ‘ome to ya wife”

“Why d’ya think I’m ‘ere love” the chap wipes the vomit from his mouth making YN shudder a little. Rolling her eyes YN goes to get her mop and bucket while she leaves Freddie and Tommy to talk, although knowing it may end up in someone getting hurt

“Hi YN” Finn, the youngest Shelby sibling says smiling at her

“Hey Finn, why aren’t ya at school” the boy shrugs his shoulders

“Borin’”

“It may be borin’ but do ya wanna end up like ya brothers? an alcoholic, an other a deceiver, another married at 17 because he fucked some poor girl. Get yourself some juice then head back to school”

“Fine” the boy whines but does as he’s told, well kind off. YN doesn’t need to know that he’s took the juice and headed off home.

Walking back to the bar with a mop and bucket and some other cleaning supplies, she now sees Tommy and Freddie holding Danny up. Glass and chairs thrown everywhere

“Oh hell did I do it again?” he asks

“You did it again Danny”

“Miss YN I’m so sorry” Danny cries

“It’s ok Danny” YN says sympathising with him. She knows better than anyone how the war has changed so many people and families. She worked as a nurse to help the injured soldiers. Combat Fatigue, or shell shock is what they called it when men would return home, but they weren’t themselves. Unfortunately Danny, once a sweet caring man, now has moments where he forgets where he is. Just a noise could set him off. Knowing this YN knows that she shouldn’t be harsh on him. It’s not his fault

“Mr Shelby you have to do something about him”

“Damn right Harry. You pay the peaky blinders a lot of money for protection. Your the law around here now, aren’t ya Tommy?” Freddie say as Tommy takes a swig of whiskey

“And what would you suggest? Hm? Putting a bullet through his head? Kill an innocent man? Thought you would have done enough of that during the war”

“YN back to work” Harry says pointing at the girl

“Sorry ‘man’s business’ right? that’s a load of fucking bollocks and you know that”

“Harry get YN to drop the bill off at the betting shop. We’ll take care of this” Tommy says putting his cap back on and walking out of the bar

“I don’t know why you’re still involved with that lot” Harry mutters grabbing a broom. YN shrugs

“Grew up with John boy didn’t I. They’re family”

“Yet the man you love married another. I’d leave them before they break you” with that Harry gets to sweeping the floor. What Harry said hurt YN, not the part about them breaking her, no. They wouldn’t do that, the Shelby’s all treat YN as family. The part that hurt YN was that John married Martha, YN’s best friend. Tommy always said it was only because he got her pregnant and wanted to do the right thing, but YN always wondered if he hadn’t of got Martha pregnant would he have ever married her? Would’ve he and YN had a chance? Well it’s to late now. John married Martha and now is a widower with 4 children who YN had help Polly deliver.

Later that evening YN walks home, having to pass Johns house where she can hear the chaos that is bath and bed time. Going against her better judgement, YN finds her feet making their way to Johns house and knocking on the door. A disheveled John answers the door

“Oh thank god your here. I don’t know how Martha did this everyday” sighing YN gives him a weak smile entering his house

“Just get a glass of whiskey for me for when we’re done”

[mochis-cream]

23:55 — choi san ♡

・ cleaning up after a party is a necessity, it always has been. and yet, as tedious as it may be, as tedious as the whole process may be, you find that you really don’t mind. in fact, you’ll do it time and time again just to make sure he knows he’s loved, and to put a smile on that beautiful face

c.s x gn!reader ・ ateez ・ 에이티즈 ・ sfw ・ non!idol au ・ wc: 932 ・ genre -> fluff, slice of life?? ・ one shot! -> masterlist!

content warning: established relationship, birthday boy san, kissing, lots of fluff me thinks, one singular curse word, lowercase intended, not proofread, let me know if i missed something!

author’s note: yoo employment is crazy dawg 😭 like wdym i don’t have enough free time to actively be working on my own personal projects 😰 so yeah this definitely isn’t getting posted while it’s still his birthday 😞 but hey! it’s still his birthday in alaska, yeah? that’s gotta count for smth right?

“bye! thanks for coming!”

the night winds down as you gently usher the last party guest out of the house, exchanging tired yet happy goodbyes. the door clicks shut behind them, and you lock it, letting out a sigh of relief. turning around, you survey the battlefield residing in what was once your living room. streamers hang limply from the ceiling, confetti is scattered about like glittery snow, and popped balloons lie sadly around the floor. and there, in the dead center of your living room, draped over the couch like a cake-covered renaissance painting, is san. he’s half asleep, a mix of frosting and confetti adorning his face, and he looks like a complete utter mess.

you sigh again, this time out of resignation, and grab a broom. starting with the confetti, you sweep up the colorful pieces, the crunch of paper underfoot filling the quiet room. next, you gather the popped balloons, their deflated forms serving as a stern reminder of the earlier chaos. fallen cake chunks are carefully swept into a dustpan, and you mop up the frosting smeared across the floor, each swipe of the mop bringing back a bit of the room's former glory.

with the house now looking somewhat presentable, you return you equipment to their rightful locations and then turn your attention to san. he’s now fully asleep on the couch, one arm dangling off the side, his face still a frosting-covered mess. fighting back the urge to groan, you tiptoe past him, heading to the bathroom, and return with a wet towel. despite the mess, the sight of him makes you smile—he looks so peaceful like this you almost don’t want to disturb him. and yet still, you carefully climb on top of him, straddling his hips. you give his nose a gentle peck, smiling as you lick the frosting off your lips. san stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. you begin to gently wipe his face with the towel, the cool water making quick work of the remaining frosting. about halfway through though, san starts to wake up, his hands almost instinctively finding your hips.

he mumbles something about the towel being cold, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “mornin’, sleepyhead. did you sleep well?” you ask, your voice barely concealing your amusement.

san chuckles, eyes still half-closed, and nods. you continue cleaning his face, but he starts shifting beneath you, making it a bit difficult. “hold still for a moment, sannie. i need to get the rest of this frosting off,” you say, trying to sound stern yet failing completely.

san, ever the playful one, shakes his head and swiftly swipes some frosting from his lips onto yours, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as you nearly splutter around his fingers. “ah- come on, san, seriously?” you say, half-exasperated, half-amused. you could hardly complain though, it wasn’t like the frosting tasted bad. it was your favorite.

and just as you begin to lick the icing off your lips, san's free hand cups the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss. his tongue sweeps across your lips, licking off the remaining frosting in the process. the kiss is sweet and lingering, and when he finally pulls away, it's just enough to whisper, "thank you for making my birthday special." his words are sincere, filled with warmth, before he pulls you back in for another, gentler kiss that nearly sends your heart tumbling out your ass.

despite not wanting too, you force yourself to pull away first, instead opting to give him a soft kiss on his forehead. you don’t miss his little blissed out eye smile as you climb off of him, grabbing his arm and hoisting him up off the couch with you. as he stands, most of the confetti clinging to him falls off, fluttering to the floor in a colorful shower. you both laugh at the sight.

"don't worry, i'll clean it up later," you assure him with a smile. "let's go to bed now, kay? you promised your sister you'd spend the day with her tomorrow."

agreeing, san follows you to your shared room. you both change into your pajamas, laughing at how tired you look in the mirror. finally, you climb into bed, snuggling close to each other, the warmth and comfort of being together enveloping you both.

after a moment of peaceful silence, san speaks. his voice is quite, vulnerable, and filled with an emotion you recognize wholeheartedly as love. “seriously, thank you so much for today. i couldn’t possibly have asked for a better birthday. you always make everything feel so special, i’m so glad i met you. thank you.”

you couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried, and your heart all but burst within your chest into a puddle of sunshine and rainbows. “of course, sannie. you deserve this, you know? i want to make sure that you always feel loved by those around you, and that the love you give is returned to you tenfold. whether it’s me, or your family, or your friends, we won’t stop until we’ve put the whole world in your hands.”

san's eyes are red and glossy when they meet yours, his voice fragile and tender. “i know. thank you, i love you.”

you return his sentiment with a gentle squeeze. “i love you more. now go to sleep, okay? you have a long day ahead of you. goodnight, my love.”

“okay, yeah, goodnight.”

with a final kiss to the crown of his head, you both drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.