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manias-wordcount · 7 months

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Soft Squeezes (Howl Jenkins Pendragon)

Kinktober 2023 Day Four: Fondling

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

It’s always when Howl seems to be at his absolute softest.

That’s usually when you can expect him to stick his hands underneath the fabric of your dress.

Today was one of those days. Not that you were surprised, of course. He was sleepy this morning when you woke him up with the breakfast that you and Calcifer worked to create. He was quiet as he ate, though he answered every one of Markl’s questions with the smallest of smiles on his face. When breakfast was done, he seemed to have floated around the castle. Doing what? You’re not quite sure. There are still parts of Howl that you have to admit as being a mystery still- even to you.

But what you do know is that when he crept into your sunroom and picked you up and off the couch to plop you straight down in his lap, you knew you were in for a bit of a distracting reading session. So you didn’t even frown you just barely managed to make it to the end of the chapter. You only settled into him a little more. And you smiled.

It wasn’t a smile Howl could necessarily see, but you had a feeling he knew it was there. Because all too soon, the long fingers that were tracing the neckline of your dress. Pressing the tips of his nails just barely against any pieces of exposed skin he could get his hands on. Only enough to make you shudder and shiver. And when he noticed the quiet way you fold the top of a page in the book you were trying to read, he didn’t say anymore. He just let out a warm chuckle and let you take your time in placing the book by the side of his lap. And when you finally righted yourself in his lap? Undistracted and oh-so-eager? He finally had the chance to set out and do what he wanted to do ever since wandering in to see you.

Even so, he started off slow.

He still let a finger trace your neckline a few times for good measure. Though his other hand has already just begun gently pressing the pads of each finger just beneath the very top of your dress. At first, the touch was still a little more curious than anything else. But hand tracing your neckline had just wandered down further to cup at your breast from above your clothes. Four fingers had just reacquainted themselves with the size of your chest as they scoped from below and circled around what they could. His thumb came to top it all off as it began to draw small, small circles into you. Something you doubt you would have really noticed if it weren’t for the delicate way he treated you. Even as you fidgeted and squirmed and made all sorts of soft noises as you sat on his lap.

Speaking of which, you were starting to get a little antsy. And a little bit shy too. A brush against of part of your body that was too sensitive always managed to get a shiver out of you. And the suddenness of a squeeze or a pinch or even a warm kiss to your skin was usually met with a whimper or a gasp pouring freely from your lips. Beneath you, you could feel your lover’s own arousal growing. A stiff, firmness that wasn’t always there is now pressing against your bottom. And if you wonder if it’s because touching you genuinely makes him this excited.

Or if his body can somehow sense the growing wetness that’s now making a mess of your panties right above him.

Whatever the reason may be, it doesn’t change the fact that Howl seems more than content with just playing around with your breasts. So content that when his fingers find your nipples hardening from beneath your dress and opts to give it the quickest squeeze that sends you almost jolting out of his lap, he’s quick the grab you with a free hand and keep you rooted in place.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” He murmurs into the crook of your neck. His apology is accented by a kiss against your skin as the hand that just grabbed you went from holding at your waist to spreading across the expanse of your tummy and squeezing there as well. The action bunches up your dress a little more than sitting on his lap has already. Not enough to cause major concerns if you were out in public. But just enough to raise some eyebrows now that more of the meat of your thighs was exposed for anyone to lay their eyes upon. But you know that’s now what Howl’s most interested in. Because if he was…. “You know I just couldn’t help it.”

…then why would he be so focused on pulling down the top of your dress and letting your breasts fall free from the clothes that once confined them?

And even though you know he’s doing this all for his own enjoyment and pleasure, there’s a certain feeling of embarrassment that overtakes you as you watch your chest become more exposed and bounce freely now that they’ve been revealed to all of the sunroom. But Howl doesn’t allow you for a moment to let that shyness dwell within you. It seems as if not even a part of his agenda or factored into his fantasy. No, because before you can even really blink, the hand that is not grabbing at your body and keeping you pressed against him is now spreading against your chest and grabbing. Squeezing. Feeling. Touching. Anything. Everything.

And upon his lap, you’re left squirming and shaking. Whimper and whining. Gasping out and breathing deeply as the fabric of your dress pools around you. But behind your every reaction is a man giving into his earthly temptations. A man taking the same hands that once brushed against your pebbled nipples tenderly and turning them into hands that tug and roll the sensitive little point between two nimble fingers. A man taking the same hands that gently cupped and drew shapes along your skin and turning them into hands that give a little lift just to let fall. Or to squeeze just hard enough for him to hear your voice as you sing in surprise. Or to play and play and play with all that he can touch and all that he can feel and all that he can see.

And he’ll be like this for hours. He’ll sit you on his lap and let your dress hang off your body. Leaving you half naked and all his to play with. He’ll run his fingers against your skin. He’ll be gentle and sweet. And maybe take a quick turn to poke and prod at your limits. But you’ll never have to worry about him being a little too rough with your precious body. Because on the inside and out, you know that the man you’re dealing with is a soft, soft man. A man who just so happens to want only one thing.

And it just so happens that his hands are the absolute perfect size to enjoy that very thing.

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dawn-moths · 2 years

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“Weekend in Paradise”

Howl Pendragon x Female Reader

word count: 4,900+

(Every year for your anniversary, you and Howl take a weekend trip to some quaint, romantic little town to see some sights, try the local cuisine, and be reminded how lucky you two were to fall in love.)

disclaimer/content warning: no explicit smut, mostly just tender kisses, established relationship, this is just pure romantic devotion because i’m sad and need something soft and non-angsty right now.

*ao3 mirror*

***

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave a graceful twirl, the long skirt of your dress furling out around you in a cascade of pastel yellow, your giggles filling the room like rays of warm sunlight. You held your beautiful new hat to your head, the one with the white silk ribbon tied around the base, ending your spin with a small curtsy.

“Gorgeous, as always,” Howl replied smoothly with that signature charming smile of his as he walked towards you, pulling you in close to his side for a gentle embrace. You turned to face him, nuzzling your cheek closer into his chest, reaching up to loosely drape your arms over his shoulders, your grin widening with glee. He asked you, “Have you packed everything? Need any more help?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I have everything,” you responded, pulling away just enough to look up into his crystal blue eyes, his gaze as clear and sure as the late spring skies. “But what about you?” you then continued with a teasing lilt. “You’ve been packing for days, it seems. Weeks, even!”

Howl let out a soft chuckle, beginning to guide you out of the room with one arm still lovingly secured around your waist. “I think I’ve narrowed it down,” he joked. In the main living area, at the top of the short staircase leading to the front door, sat his suitcase which still appeared to be bursting at the seams with how many clothes he’d managed to shove inside.

You’d jokingly warned him he better not use magic to make more fit. Knowing Howl, he’d try to take his entire closet with him, if he thought he could get away with it.

And so you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you’d heard him grumbling under his breath when he’d first began trying to pack about how he wasn’t sure which shirts or coats or shoes to bring with him because he wasn’t sure what mood he’d be in during your trip.

You’d just shaken your head at him, hands on your hips as a smile spread across your face.

“It doesn’t matter what you wear,” you’d tried to reason with him. “We’re only going away for a weekend. Just pick a couple options and you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, but you don’t understand!” he’d sighed dramatically, running his bejeweled-ring adorned fingers through his silky shoulder length hair. “Who knows what the weather will be like and, not to mention accounting for any spontaneous activities we encounter on the way!”

You couldn’t help yourself from laughing, covering your mouth with one hand as if that would hide your amusement at his theatrics. “You’re going to end up being severely overdressed, aren’t you?” you asked.

Howl wore a playful smirk, then lifted a finger to accentuate his point when he replied, “Ah, but you see, even for something as simple as a picnic in the park, there’s no such thing as being overdressed, so long as you look your very best.”

You rolled your eyes, strolling over to help him shut his suitcase, in the end having to sit on top of it while he used a bit of magic to smush the rest down, tugging the zipper with nearly enough strength to snap the poor thing off in order to close it.

He’d pecked you on the cheek then, muttering a quiet, “Thank you, dear,” before helping you down from off the mountain of his packed belongings.

He did this every year, which you reminded him of— that on your anniversary vacation he always tended to get carried away.

But at least now that it was time to depart he’d seemed to have made up his mind.

“Oh, are you guys leaving now?” Markl asked as he popped his head around the corner, having come down from his room to see the two of you off.

“Indeed we are, Markl!” Howl responded to the boy triumphantly, walking towards his apprentice with his hands on his hips. “Are you and Calcifer going to be alright running things while we’re gone?”

“We’ll be fine…” Calcifer droned from his place at the hearth, flames glowing bright. “As long as Markl makes sure I have enough firewood, at least…”

“I already told you,” the boy remarked with indignance. “I’ll bring you firewood every morning and every night!”

Howl rustled the little boy’s auburn hair, causing his frown and scowl to fade back into a smile. “I’m counting on you to hold down the fort until we return, alright, Markl?”

Markl gave a playful solute, ensuring the wizard his castle was in good hands.

Howl then turned and addressed you when he heard you begin to pull your suitcase closer to the door, assuring you that you didn’t need to trouble yourself and that he’d get it for you.

“We’ll be late,” you informed him with an almost guilty smile, hating to hurry his goodbyes along, but, well…

If you didn’t keep an eye on the clock then no one would.

“Alright, everyone!” Howl called to his apprentice and fire demon, Hin puffing out a wheeze of a bark from his resting place under the table. “Take care and we’ll see you soon!” He then came to grab both of your suitcases, heading towards the door with you trailing after him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Calcifer muttered passive-aggressively as he grabbed another piece of the firewood that was stacked beside him. “You two just go galavanting about while I stay here and do all the work!”

“Oh, don’t be upset,” you smiled over your shoulder at the fire demon as Howl turned the colored dial on the door to a new one he’d added just last week, one that was a light lavender shade. “I’ll bring you back a souvenir. I hear they make the most delicious macarons in the town we’re visiting!”

That made the fire demon soften up a little, trying to suppress a bashful grin as he replied, “Well, alright… Maybe if you bring me back a few…”

And with that, you and Howl departed, the door swinging open to reveal a quaint little sea-side town as you turned to give one final wave to Markl who waved back and wished you both safe travels with a beaming grin.

***

It was a sunny day— a perfect day— and the early afternoon light sparkled off the surface of the calm sea, a scattered line of sailboats gently swaying on the horizon. The village was quiet, peaceful, the sounds of a few seagulls cawing to each other overhead as they glided under the cotton candy clouds harmonizing with the whisper of the water lightly rocking against the cliff sides and a sweet melody of a guitar being strummed somewhere in the distance. The warm spring breeze was just gentle enough to make your dress and hair drift a little bit in the direction that it blew.

“Oh, Howl!” you said through a breath of awe, unable to tear your gaze from the lovely scene. “It’s beautiful! How did you find this place?”

“I just happened upon it a little while back,” he admitted nonchalantly with an elegant shrug, movements always smooth and fluid. “I’ve been saving it for today.”

The two of you began up the hillside, you offering to take your suitcase back and Howl only allowing you to carry it once you told him that you wished to hold hands and you couldn’t do that if he carried both bags. Yours wasn’t heavy, as you’d only packed for two days since you were only going to be gone two days. You couldn’t speak for Howl (who’d probably squeezed a few extra articles of clothing into his bag at the last minute), though you were willing to bet he was using magic to assist him in lugging a generous portion of his wardrobe up towards the pastel cottage-esque bed and breakfast you’d be staying in.

You both checked into the romantic little inn and the man at the front desk handed Howl the key to your room, a little blue ribbon tied in a bow at the end of the shiny gold object.

Howl thanked the man, sliding him a few folded bills as a tip, and then continued down the hall where you both went up a short, spiraling staircase, Howl insisting on carrying your things up the climb. That time, you let him have his way.

Once at the top, he stopped at the door, hesitating. He then turned to you, holding the key out for you to take. “I think you should open it,” he suggested with a calm smile. “There’s a surprise waiting inside.”

Unsure of what you were about to walk into, you slowly took the key from his lithe grasp and went to unlock the door, pushing it open to reveal—

“Oh my gosh, Howl!” you took one step into the room, then two. “How did you— Is this magic? How did you do all this?”

The entire suite was decorated with all kinds of flowers— roses and tulips and orchids— but the majority of them consisted of your favorites, which were white lilies and delicate little bluebells. It complemented the cool tones of the furniture, like moonlight and vanilla, pearls and white wine.

There were little butterflies sculpted and etched into the details of things like the ornate frame around the oval mirror hanging above the fireplace and the headboard of the plush, king-sized bed that was stacked with an array of pillows, the texture of each one slightly different.

“I might’ve used a little,” he admitted as he came to stand beside you, lightly tugging you by the waist back to his side and kissing your forehead when you looked up at him with adoration and bewilderment in your eyes, hands clasped together in front of your chest, almost unable to believe that this place wasn’t a dream. That he wasn’t a dream.

Howl went to set your suitcases by the end of the bed as you took a closer look around, continuing to turn about the room slowly, taking it all in. Eventually you drifted back towards him, your own two feet guiding you back into his arms, guiding you back home.

“Happy anniversary,” Howl spoke in a low, quiet tone. Then he wrapped you up in his comforting embrace, his lips meeting yours for a tender kiss.

“Happy anniversary…” you replied with a lingering smile, foreheads pressed together, lightly nudging your nose to his. Your cheeks already were beginning to burn from how much you’d been smiling, so much joy filling your heart even as your romantic weekend together had barely begun.

“Now…” Howl suggested cooly, going over to pull the sheer curtains away from one set of windows to get a better view of the glittering water just outside and down the hill. He extended a hand to you, gently guiding you towards him so you could admire the scene as well, his chest pressed to your back as he rested his chin on your shoulder as his arms once again wrapped themselves around your waist. His gaze flicked from you to the view before landing back on you. He gave a slightly mischievous grin before asking, “Shall we?”

So, walking arm in arm, the two of you headed out of the beautiful inn where you probably could’ve just stayed all weekend— just you and him amongst the scent of the lilies and bluebells and the quiet crackling of a gentle fire— and headed back into the positively picturesque village, excited to see what else it had in store.

***

You’d been strolling about the town for a couple of hours, always with hands clasped or elbows interlocked, never breaking away from each other’s touch for more than a few seconds. Similar couples passed by as you ventured down the cobblestone streets, staring and pointing out at the sights that you’d just passed or were soon to venture upon.

You’d taken a tour of the nearby beach, collecting some of the little multi-colored pebbles that composed the shore as keepsakes to carry around, finding your favorites and trading ones that you thought each other would like, trying your hand at tossing others into the sea.

When Howl skipped a stone perfectly for the third time in a row, you gave him a look— one that said with playful accusation, “you’re cheating”— and Howl gave you a cheeky wink, pulling another one of those adorable giggles from you that he loved so much.

Then you’d headed towards the square where a fountain with a flawless marble statue of an angelic looking woman playing a mandolin stood ethereally in the center of the clear, flowing water, reflective sunlight glittering like gold dust over the surface, some local children tossing shiny silver coins in and making wishes. You imagined that Markl probably would’ve joined them, had he been here.

“Oh, what’s that?” you asked as you pointed towards some smoke rising from a chimney a few streets down.

“Why don’t we go find out?” Howl asked, whisking you away towards the mystery.

When you came upon the building the chimney belonged to, you saw it was a bakery, the smells of fresh sourdough bread and delectable chocolate pastries wafting outside from the open window. The sign on the door said it was soon to close for the day, but perhaps, if you were lucky, they wouldn’t be sold out of everything just yet.

“After you,” Howl remarked with a graceful nod and the extending of his hand towards the interior as he opened the bakery’s glass door for you, dainty little bells jingling overhead to signal your arrival.

Inside, tiny fairy creatures were painted on the ceiling and ivy plants hung like festival flags from corner to corner. Cupcakes frosted with pastel pinks and purples and blues were spaced evenly behind the glass counter, cute bite sized cheesecakes or single-serving pies placed a little further down. It smelled even better on the inside, the rich fudges and spicy cinnamon and nutmegs of the bakery mingling together in perfect harmony.

“Well, hello there!” a pleasant woman greeted as she walked out from the back room, a few smudges of powdered sugar and caramel drizzles spotting her multi-colored, patchwork apon. “Welcome! What can I help you with today?”

“Oh, well, it all looks so good…” You contemplated as you scanned your options from behind the display case, a finger tapping your chin as you tried to decide. You then looked back to Howl and asked with an eager smile, “What do you think?”

“I think perhaps we ought to choose a few to share,” he replied, kneeling down to get a closer look.

You nodded your head, kneeling down as well. “I think you’re right.”

So, after choosing four of the bakeries freshly made desserts, wishing the woman (who’d been very helpful in recommending the most popular pastries as well as her own personal favorites) a good day, the two of you began to head towards the docks to watch the sunset behind the sailboats and continue to enjoy the fresh air and lovely weather.

But then, just as the sea was coming back into sight, Howl suddenly seemed to have a change of plans.

“I have a better idea,” he announced, his gaze following a couple who was riding down the main path on seafoam green bicycles.

There was a bike rental station right at the corner, only two more left as if they’d been waiting there specifically for you and him.

So, with each of you carrying your desserts in the little wicker baskets attached to the front of the bikes, you took a leisurely ride further through town, venturing to the outskirts where you found a vast, sprawling field dotted with little white daisies nestled between a canopy of maple trees, dappled light freckling you both from between the star-shaped leaves.

You both decided to stop there for an evening picnic, finishing your pastries after Howl summoned a fluffy blue and white checkered blanket and placed it perfectly over the lush grass.

Little yellow butterflies flitted around, occasionally landing on a nearby flower to enjoy a sweet snack of their own, or simply drifting on the breeze. At one point, one of them fluttered over to land on the top of your head, slowly opening and closing its wings as you remained perfectly still.

Howl propped up on his side as he lay across the picnic blanket, admiring the rare moment with so much fondness you could’ve sworn the definition of the word became the color of his eyes.

“Perhaps he was a friend from a past life,” he commented with a soft grin. “He seems to really like you.”

You carefully lifted a finger to where you could feel the delicate creature perched upon you, coaxing it to crawl onto your hand, and when it did you slowly lowered it to your eye level, smiling at the insect dreamily.

“He’s beautiful…” you whispered, afraid if you raised your voice too much it would scare it away.

Howl leaned in a little closer, also moving cautiously on account of the butterfly. “Of course he is,” he began, his azure gaze drifting back to you. “Beauty has a way of finding beauty…”

As the butterfly caught the next soft gust of wind to flutter further into the field of daisies, you met eyes with Howl.

He always knew what to say, but never in a way that felt forced or inauthentic.

When Howl told you things like that, gave you charming compliments, it was always because he truly believed it, meant it from the most honest parts of his heart.

Yet, for some reason, every time he spoke such pretty words to you, it caught you off guard, as if you still weren’t accustomed to such genuine observations.

“Howl…” was all you could sigh out as he closed the gap between the two of you for another kiss, this one more passionate than the soft pecks he’d gifted you thus far, but no less tender. It was the kind that warmed you from the inside out, made you float even further into the fantasy only to remember that this was your reality, however unbelievably perfect.

After you both had gotten your fill of each other’s own unique brand of sweetness, Howl carefully brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze unable to leave you as he murmured, the tiniest twinge of guilt laced into his rich baritone, “I know we just had dessert, but there was technically a dinner reservation booked for us tonight…”

Your eyes, which had been tracking his graceful hands, migrated back to those bewitching blues. Again, you were met with a gaze that made you think— made you know— that you were his entire world. That, even in a place as mesmerizing as this, he would always find you the most entrancing, enticing thing to admire.

He turned a little apologetic then, eyebrows pinched a fraction as his smile fell slightly crooked. “Or, we could just go back to the inn and have a meal there…?”

Now it was your turn to smile, putting him at ease with the soft expression, saying, “We have all night to enjoy the inn…” You took one of his hands in both of yours, studying his long, delicate fingers, too pretty to be as strong and sure as they were. “Let’s go to dinner.”

So you rode your bikes back into town and parked them right outside the restaurant, under the dim glow of a street lantern, the sky just beginning to shift into the navy of night, the last peach hues of the fading day lining the horizon with a thin streak of periwinkle between them.

The path leading to the eatery was lined with glowing, blown glass orbs, flecks of mint green and gold freckling the delicate sculptures and casting speckles of color at your feet as you crossed over the mosaic stones.

Your table was seated outside, facing the ocean, which had gone dark now, the moonlight casting a silvery trim along the waves, a majority of the sailboats docked but a few stray vessels still illuminated and hosting late night patrons who drank wine and traded merriment as they rocked upon the water.

You liked watching them, sneaking glances throughout your meal, the echoes of their joy only furthering your own contentment as you and Howl clinked glasses, toasting to a wonderful first day of your anniversary weekend, what was sure to be a wonderful night to continue.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Howl eventually asked, catching you staring wistfully at the sea, melancholy weaving into your usual mirth.

Your attention turned back to him, looking a little caught off guard, as if you hadn’t even realized you’d been in a daze. “What am I— Oh…” Now your gentle smile reappeared, though still tinted with a tiny hint of somberness.

Your hand slid across the tabletop to find his, which turned over to clasp gently around your own with a gentle protection. “It’s just…” you began, watching as Howl’s thumb caressed the top of your hand. “Sometimes I think about how things were before I met you… How dull they seemed. But then you came into my life and suddenly there was so much color, so much life…” Your grin brightened a little bit then, and you chuckled out a teasing, “Definitely a lot more drama.” Even Howl found amusement at that, he couldn’t deny it.

Your view turned back out to the sea, the twinkling lights of the sailboat shimmering off the water. “And it’s just… Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it all…”

Howl’s expression dropped, morphing into concern— nearly into shock.

“What you did to— Well that’s obvious, don’t you think?” You looked back to him, blinking twice, a little confused. He took both your hands in his, grip flexing a fraction over your palms as his brows knit with worry. Turning a little more serious, he cleared his throat and said, “You deserve this and more. So much more. And I would do anything— anything— to give it to you.”

“Howl…” Sighing each other’s names was an emotion in its own right, between the two of you, a coded declaration of your love. “You give me more than enough. What I mean to say is that…” You leaned in a little closer to him, scooting your chair forward a few inches, tenderly cupping his cheek in one of your velvety palms. “What I mean to say, is that I never thought I’d get lucky enough to find a love like we have.” Even in the dim light, you swore you saw Howl Pendragon blush, not as accustomed to receiving your blunt words of affection as you were of his.

“But what if luck has nothing to do with it?” Howl shifted back into his confidence then, lifting an eyebrow for a moment as another one of those sly grins spread across his lips. “What if it was fate instead?”

“Then, I suppose,” you began, lightening up and letting out a tired laugh, “I should be thanking fate.” Howl learned into your touch, savoring your warmth. “Because I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” you told him, feeling him squeeze your hand a little firmer. “The luckiest girl in the entire universe.”

Howl brought the hand of yours that he was still holding to his lips, kissed the top of it, allowing his lips to linger for a moment as his crystal blue gaze held yours, his devotion as bright and steady as the stars sparkling in the sky.

“Then that must make me the luckiest man in all of eternity,” he replied, voice silky smooth and low, only loud enough for you to hear, as if, dare he speak any louder, the angels in the heavens grow jealous and try to reclaim you.

Then it was your turn to blush, a bashful smile painting your joy, sipping at your wine while trading loving glances, ankles intertwined under the table and content enough just to be in each other’s presence.

***

Once dinner was over and you and Howl took the short stroll back up the hill to the inn, you realized just how tired you really were, the many activities of the day finally catching up to you.

Howl noticed the sleepiness tugging at your eyelids, drawing them down at half-mast like the sailboats preparing to dock for the evening, and swept you off your feet, carrying you up the stairs towards your suite and carefully lowering you to the end of the bed, the plush comforter filling in around you in a nest of fluffy goose down.

Howl placed his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning down a little closer as he murmured in that sweet, deep voice of his, “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

You nodded, failing to suppress a yawn. “Definitely an eventful one,” you chuckled, a lazy smile lingering on your lips. You reached up to drape your arms over his shoulders, clasping your hands loosely behind his neck, his shiny, soft hair like silk between your fingers. “But I had a great time… So thank you, Howl. For all of this.”

Howl took a seat on the end of the bed next to you, gently pulling you into his lap and cradling you in his arms, your head lolling against his chest, hearing the steady beating of his heart— a falling star wished back between the ribs of its rightful owner. He smoothed back some of your wind tousled hair and said, “None of this would be possible without you, my dear. Who else would I share it with?”

You let out another hum of gentle adoration, nuzzling closer into him, his scent of roses and bergamot and the slightest twinge of campfire smoke putting you at ease the way it always did. Everything about Howl had a way of putting you at ease.

He’d always be your beacon on the shore, your guiding light. You found him in every bird that sang perched along the windowsill or burst of carefree laughter echoing through the market square. He would keep watch over you by way of the constellations spread out across the night sky or the refreshing breezes that winded through the streets during the day.

Because anything beautiful— whether mundane or fantastical— reminded you of him. Just the same as they reminded him of you.

Beauty has a way of finding beauty.

Perhaps he was right.

“You spoil me…” you teased. “Better watch out, Calcifer might get jealous.”

“Not if we bring him back some of those macarons like you promised,” he chuckled, now caressing your neck, following the line of your collarbones and shoulder, slowly traveling back up and down with his soothing ministrations as you melted further into his tender touch.

“I love you, Howl…” you sighed, your eyes closed, breathing calm and steady.

“I love you, too,” he replied, placing a kiss delicately on the crown of your head.

For a little while, he just held you like that, keeping you safe in his arms while you drifted off into your dreams, subconscious painted with strokes of sunset orange and glittering gold, deep blues and shining silvers, pastel purples and soft cream whites.

They were pleasant dreams, while they lasted, though as Howl shifted around you and caused you to stir, you didn’t worry about losing them. You’d gain plenty of new opportunities tomorrow to view those colors in reality, this place so gorgeous one could only imagine it to be something out of a fairy tale.

“What are you doing…?” you mumbled as Howl lowered you to lay out on your back, making sure a pillow was placed comfortably under your head.

He knelt to start unlacing your boots then, flashing something only slightly mischievous before answering, “Well, you can’t very well get into bed in all these clothes, now can you?”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips before fading back into exhaustion, laying still as Howl removed your shoes, your stockings, helped you out of your beautiful dress and then tucked you under the covers.

Once you were settled, he made good work of removing his own clothing, garments slid perfectly onto hangers and hooked on the back of the door, the suite’s wardrobe too far away to be bothered with apparently.

When he joined you under the sheets and blankets, he pulled you close, your bodies curling around each other like entangled vines traveling up towards the sun. He pressed another kiss to your forehead, muttering one last, “I love you,” before wishing you sweet dreams.

And this time, you dreamt not only of the colors, but the feelings as well.

There was enough devotion and adoration to fill all of the world’s oceans, so deep and full and undeniably real that it was no wonder it didn’t take much for you to drown in it all.

But below the surface there was always a savor waiting for you, your protector, your rescuer, the one you could always depend on. He could take your hand and guide you to unbelievable new worlds, all the beauties hidden in any nook of the land, or even his own imagination, waiting for you to happen upon them.

And you didn’t know how it was possible, that you and Howl just seemed to fall in love more and more every year, every day. But you supposed it was sort of like magic. You’d have to see it, hear it, feel it to believe it. And once you had, that was all the proof you’d need to never question how or why is was possible ever again.

***

(Me picturing post-war Howl bringing Sophie on all these amazing dates and lovely trips and just wanting that to be me T-T <3

No but really, who wasn’t in love with Howl Pendragon after their first watch of the movie haha

Anyway, this is literally from like over a year ago and I’d never finished it, so I figured I’d spruce it up a bit and just put it out there.

Also writing for Howl made me want to write for Qifrey (from Witch Hat Atelier) because, charming and mysterious wizards? sign me up!

I hope you enjoyed!

See you next time <3)

#i literally started this like an entire year ago aaaaahhhh!!#im glad its finally done lol it was haunting me whenever i opened my 'currently working on' folder #howl's moving castle #howl pendragon #howl pendragon x reader #howl pendragon x you #howl pendragon x y/n #howls moving castle #howls moving castle fanfic #howls moving castle fanfiction #howl pendragon fanfiction #howl jenkins x reader #howl jenkins pendragon #howl jenkins x you #howl jenkins x y/n #hauru no ugoku shiro

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cloudy-em · 6 months

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Howl Pendragon Fluff Headcanons

❁ Howl is incredibly loving. He is kind, caring, loyal, a bit overdramatic, and simply an amazing man to have around.

❁ One of his favorite ways to show you love is to give gifts. And I mean he makes it his sole purpose to spoil you. Love to read? Whoops, suddenly the castle has a library. Enjoy nature? He's taking you out to see the most beautiful waterfalls he knows of.

❁ He wants you to see yourself as he sees you; like starlight. He'll try everything he can to turn you into a real narcissus. Not in a "bad" way; he just wants you to know exactly how stunning you and your soul are.

❁ Howl also loves to show you off. He walks proudly around as though parading you around with your arms hooked, your hand resting just in the crook of his elbow as he leans his head down to whisper something to you.

❁ While you're shopping for bread and speaking politely with a vendor, Howl suddenly runs his hand down your bicep. When you turn around, he's bowing and offering you a flower that he bought from a nearby stand. You blush (and he takes great pride in this) and accept his gift, and when you do, he gently lifts your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

❁ I personally have an idea in which Howl gifts you books and puts folded pieces of paper between the pages to point out the quotes he thinks describe you. (Would anybody read? Please comment or send an ask!)

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soukokumychildren · 2 months

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@sensitiveheartless Tis done yes I imagined the mermaids like that because...well, I was only raised on two types of mermaids >:) Everyone else, enjoy my most favorable angst from Dazai's moving castle lol (If anyone's wondering which chapter it was featured in, it was the 13th :})

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cynosfunnyjokes · 1 year

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A Heart’s A Heavy Burden

Characters: Howl x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: None that I can think of.

Summary: Loving Howl Pendragon isn’t easy.

Word Count: 827

Summary: Not really edited or anything- I’m sure there’s mistakes all throughout but I wrote this while watching Howl’s Moving Castle for the umpteenth time lmao. No pronouns are used for the reader!

Apprenticing under Howl was such a joy- never was there a dull moment. He would brighten up the room with his smile- his laugh. It was so contagious that you and Markl couldn't fight the grins growing on your own faces.

Meeting Howl on its own was nothing but luck- you had found yourself in some trouble with the guards, their stupid remarks making you nothing but uncomfortable- and then poof, a stranger was there, whisking you away.

How strange that the random man was Howl himself- a well-known sorcerer and someone you looked up to. Of course, you nervously asked him to take you on as an apprentice, eagerly telling him about your interest in magic since you were young.

He simply laughed, smiling that bright smile everyone adored, and simply agreed to take you in.

All went well- he was a great teacher after all. Even with him being gone at random times throughout the day, you had Markl to spend time with to practice. And then there was Calcifer and his witty remarks. They never bothered you, simply jokingly throwing one back at him.

It didn't take long for feelings to grow for the mysterious sorcerer- everyone noticed it but Howl himself. Not that it was surprising.

Even Calfcifer noticed but never said about it, unlike Markl who made random remarks during the day in whispers, causing you to hide your face while the blush crept up to your ears.

Although one day, while cleaning up the firepit during the time Howl was away, Calficer clicked his tongue at you.

Raising an eyebrow, you turned your head to the burning ball of fire in front of you, silently asking him “what?”

“You really do love him, don't you?”

It was so sudden, it felt so random-

But that’s all he said. That's all he needed to say.

You were undeniably in love with Howl, and you could only hope the feelings were reciprocated. Maybe, just maybe they were.

All hope went down the drain the moment Sophie showed up. Suddenly, Howl wasn't around as much anymore- and when he was, he was with her.

It was always her. Sophie this, Sophie that.

Slowly, the feelings of sadness crept in, their sharp nails jabbing into your heart.

Is this what heartbreak felt like?

Eventually, you stopped leaving your room- opting to just study the days away instead of focusing on the pain residing in your heart.

Markl would stop by to check on you, dropping off food that would stay nothing but untouched, slowly growing cold as time passed.

Even though you appreciated Markl’s company, it didn't help that he often talked about Sophie- how cool she was. All this, all that.

It was all too much.

Howl never stopped in to talk- to check on you. Not that you expected him to. He was his own person who had his own things to do. He was a busy man after all. But still, you found yourself clinging to that hope- just to have it crushed.

Eventually, even Markl stopped popping in, choosing to set the food down on your table before retreating to Sophie.

It was fine. It was all fine. That's what you always told yourself.

But yet... Why did it hurt so much?

Pressing shaking hands against your tear-filled eyes, the only sound that could be heard was small sobs that you were trying oh so hard to muffle.

It was so unfair.

You wanted him to look at you like he does her. To experience the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, to feel his loving gaze.

But that would never happen.

There wasn't much point in staying there anymore- you refused to leave your room unless it was to quickly run to the bathroom, refused to even leave your bed unless it was necessary.

What was the point of staying there? Where the reminder of your unrequited love stayed?

It was raining outside, the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the window helping drown out any sounds that escaped you.

Bag in hand that was full of a few necessities and a small photo of you and Howl, you stopped to stare at Howl’s bedroom door for a minute.

Loving him hurt- but it wasn't something you regretted. If only things were different, maybe it would've been better. Such a false sense of hope.

Howl seemed happier with Sophie- even Calcifer and Markl were happier.

You weren't needed anymore.

So without a single thought, you turned on your heels and climbed out the hallway window to avoid Calcifer knowing.

Landing on the muddy ground below with a let thump, you looked at what used to be your home one last time, thoughts racing a thousand miles per second. You didn't want to stay and be reminded of how much happier everyone was without you.

So you left, the rain being your only company as you sobbed into the night.

#howl pendragon #howl’s moving castle #fanfiction #fanfic #howl x reader #howl x sophie #unrequited love #angst #cynosfunnyjokes writes #sophie hatter #calcifer #studio ghibli #howl pendragon x reader #non binary reader #fanfiction writer #angst fanfic #sunny needs to stop writing angst-#oneshot #short fiction

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greetingfromthedead · 2 months

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Vash's Moving Castle (Vash x Reader)

Plot: A strange building made up of old spaceship parts, moving around on two legs across the wasteland of the desert, it hisses and creaks and fills the heart of many with fear... That castle is home to the magnificent tech wizard Vash, infamous for both his gunmanship and for being a womanizer—or so the rumor goes in your city. You're the eldest child of a gunsmith and as such don't expect much from your future. However, your simple life takes a turn for the exciting when you're ensnared in a disturbing situation, and the mysterious tech wizard appears to rescue you.

Pairing: Vash x mostly GN Reader, occasional she/her pronouns, the use of "girl" etc from quotes directly from the movie. I tried making it completely GN, but my flu ridden brain short circuited on some very specific parts so I gave up.

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: Howl's Moving Castle style AU, no use of "y/n", Vash is a tech wizard, I have both brainrot and the flu, idk what else to put here, Howl is cute, Vash is cute, I tried my best.

Word count: 3.7k

Author's Note: Got the idea yesterday, yall seemed interested and the flu ridden brainrot I had to endure all day today was simply debilitating so I wrote a little something. I hope you like it, not sure if I will continue or not even though I have quite a few HC-s for this little AU situation.

The 6th city, May, is decorated more than usual. After all, May Day has arrived. Even though it is still early in the afternoon, the streets are bustling with people. The aroma of baked goods reaches your nose through your open window, and it makes you think about your sister, Meryl, who is working at the very popular doughnut shop on the other side of the city. She must be very busy today with the rush of customers coming in for their celebratory pastries. For you, it's a free day. Today, your little weapon's repair shop, which you inherited from your father, is closed. You decide to take advantage of the downtime and visit your sister, whom you haven't seen in a long time.

You put aside the little handgun you have been tinkering with and stand to close the window. Your little shop is situated quite high, and the workshop has the perfect view to look out over the roofs of all the other houses. Your eyes glance over the familiar sight—the scrappy buildingd made out of old spaceship parts and in the distance, you see the wide open desert. But today it is slightly different. You heard the commotion this morning when the people first noticed the addition to the landscape. With fearful and hushed voices, they talked about the monstrocity looming on the horizon and the kind of calamity it might bring.

"It is Vash's Moving Castle!" The people on the streets whispered and pointed. "Do you think the horrible Typhoon has come to lay waste to our city?"

You knew very well the rumors about the gunslinger and tech wizard named Vash the Stampede. He is said to be a ruthless demon specializing in murder and wide-scale destruction. Apparently, he kills without mercy—men, women, and children alike. He has wiped whole towns from the face of the planet, and his infamous castle is created with the sole purpose of being a weapon of mass destruction.

As you pull the window closed, you look at the mass of metal outside of town. Calling it a castle is a gross overstatement. You can't imagine how such a heap of scrap gets to be called anything so magnificent. It consists of layers upon layers of old spaceship parts, jutting out at odd angles and covered in rust and wires, its massive turrets and spires reaching towards the sky. It has two large legs underneath it, much like a tomas, that the building uses to move across the desert. This is not the first time Vash's fortress has passed by May City, and you think the excitement is unwarranted. Sure, the gunslinger has a reputation, but nothing catastrophic has happened so far. You can't help but wonder why everyone gets so worked up every time the castle passes by; he would surely go to the bank or somewhere else where he can get easy money. You are just a small shop owner; as long as you don't get in his way, it seems unlikely he would take any interest in you. He might be a womanizer, but he only has eyes for pretty girls.

You get quickly ready and close the shop. The streets are decorated with colorful ribbons, and you hear cheers coming from all over town as the annual parade begins. You have chosen a truly awful moment to try and make your way across the city, but you are determined to see Meryl. As you push through the crowded streets, you catch glimpses of the parade. People are showing off their inventions and talents. You see giant hydraulic pants marching down the street. Exo-suits and new kinds of weaponry. On other streets, you see entertainers dancing and singing in colorful costumes. Some are juggling fire, and others are performing daring acrobatics. This world truly is a marvel.

You make it to the gondolas and squeeze into one with some other people. It takes you over the winding roads, and you see the flags and market stalls lining the streets. The smell of freshly cooked food wafts up to you as you take in the sights and sounds of the bustling marketplace. May is filled with all kinds of people; for days, the sandsteamers have brought in travelers from all over, and it shows. The whole city is alive with excitement and energy.

You get off your ride on the slightly calmer side of the town, and you know the familiar route you need to take to get to the doughnut shop. The quiet side streets are nearly empty; just a few people mingle on the sidewalks. You try to avoid them as much as possible and turn to an even smaller ally as a group of drunkards head your way. You hold your breath and hope they don't notice you, looking nervously over your shoulder as you hurry along.

"Hey, it looks like a little mouse lost its way," you suddenly hear, and as you look back ahead, you see you nearly ran into a man who has just come around the corner. He is grinning mischievously, blocking your path. He is a lot taller than you, and you can see his rifle slung across his back. Surely he is a bounty hunter; you see them a lot, and with all the people flowing into town, you would think they have their hands full.

"Oh, no. I'm not lost," you say, shaking your head and recoiling a bit, leaning away from the man.

"This little mouse looks thirsty. We should take her for a cup of tea." The man continues like he didn't hear you at all. You try sidestepping him, but as you do, a second man appears from behind him. He is just as large with a big mustache, and he looks at you curiously as he leans closer, blocking your way further.

"No thanks. My sister's expecting me." You avoid looking directly at them, instead trying to think of a way to escape. They make you very uncomfortable.

"She's pretty cute for a mouse." You try to keep your cool and find a way to politely excuse yourself from the situation, but the mustashed man is leaning even closer, his face level with yours.

"How old are you anyway? You live around here?" The first guy leans toward you too. Neither of them sounds menacing, but they fill you with dread.

"Leave me alone!" you say with as much bravery as you can muster, taking a step backwards.

"You see? Your mustache scares all the girls," the first man nudges his comrade.

"So? I think she's even cuter when she's scared." the other replies, not taking his eyes off you.

"There you are, sweetheart." A different, smooth male voice speaks up behind you, capturing the gaze of the bountyhunters before you. "Sorry, I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."

He speaks close to your left ear, and a hand gently rests on your right shoulder. It's not a voice you recognize, and his touch makes you stiffen up. Your body had been ready to run for your life, but now you find yourself sandwitched between two unknowns. Yet something about the man behind you is comforting, or maybe it's just that you see the upset glint in the eyes of the men before you.

"Hey! Hey! We're busy here!" The man you had run into first speaks and looks like he is puffing himself up to look more menacing. His companion, too, straightens his back, ready for a violent confrontation.

"Are you really? It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving." The calm voice beside you speaks with a hint of amusement. You feel him shift slightly, but you don't turn your eyes away from the bounty hunters in front of you. You see their gazes move over the man, their eyes widening at something where his left arm would be, and you see them freeze up and then nudge each other. They look very uncomfortable.

"This is not worth it," one of them whispers nervously to the other.

"Yeah, we better get going," the other answers with a whisper, and they start to shuffle away from you, back into the alley they had come from. As they get further away, their step hastens until they take off running. You watch them disappear into the darkness, wondering what caused them to have such a reaction.

"Don't hold it against them," the soft voice next to you says, and you finally turn to look at him. He is a tall young man with a soft smile on his lips. You see his pretty blue eyes behind orange tinted round glasses, and his blonde hair is about shoulder length. A tight golden hoop hangs from his left ear. He is truly very handsome, and his expression is warm and inviting. He wears a pillowy white blouse that flows down to his slender waist. A pendant hangs from his neck, and a red coat covers his shoulders, but his arms are not in the sleeves.

"They aren't actually all that bad," he says, continuing his thought from before, and his eyes capture your gaze again. "Where to? I'll be your escort this evening."

"Oh, I'm, um, just going to the doughnut shop." You pull back a little from his closeness, but feel his hand firmly on your shoulder.

"Don't get alarmed, but I'm being followed," he says, leaning closer to you. His hand moves from your shoulder and instead hooks around your arm. "Act normal."

You avert your eyes, but he ignores your awkwardness completely and starts walking along the street with your arm intertwined with his, like it's totally normal. Your body is still stiff, a slight fear lingering in the back of your mind, yet this is exciliating in a way you never expected. You find yourself surprisingly comfortable in his presence, despite the fact that he is a total stranger. His pace is somewhat brisk, but you can easily keep up. The unknown of who could be following him is a bit frightening, and you find yourself pressing into his upper arm for reassurance.

As you walk past some dark and narrow alleys, you start to suddenly hear commotion.

"There he is! Go! Hurry!" You hear shouting, and it sends a shiver up your spine. Yet the man beside you keeps the same pace and, for the moment, seems unbothered.

"Sorry. It looks like you're involved," he says calmly as you try to glance into the alleys where the commotion stems from. You see a mob of gunslingers squeeze themselves hurriedly into the narrow gap between the buildings and start to rush towards you. It is frightening to you, and you grab a tighter hold of the man's arm. Your right hand grasps his shirt, your heart pounds in fear as your body stiffens. More voices start to echo from up ahead, and a few people stumble onto your street.

"This way!" he whispers insistently, and the man pulls you into a side alley, his pace getting faster as he leads you away from the gathering crowd. You struggle to keep up with him so you have to start running, your mind racing with questions, but you hold onto him tightly, and you feel certain that everything will be alright. He keeps going faster and faster, and you can see the main street ahead, but suddenly your view gets blocked by more armed men appearing to block our path. You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest, and the reassuring hand sliters out from your weakened cluth as you have trouble holding on while you run.

"Come on!" The mystery man's voice is soft and insistent, with a hint of amusement as you feel his arm wrap around your waist, both of you running straight towards the angry looking mob. You see that some of them have drawn their guns and have them pointed straight at you, but the thundering footsteps behind you tell you that they are unlikely to shoot here in this narrow alley to avoid hitting anybody else. Your confidence in getting out of here wavers, but suddenly you are tightly pulled against the man's side, and his other hand takes yours. It feels cold and hard; you catch a glimpse of blue, but you are too distracted by the fact that your feet are no longer on the cobbled street. You rush through the air, seemingly kept up by the mysterious blonde.

Instinctively, you curl up, looking around for an explanation. The coat that covered his shoulders before hangs over his left arm, and from his back protrubes a pair of giant feathery wings. You've never seen anything like this. Is this a new invention? Has he come here to present his masterpiece to the masses during the parade? Who is this man? He has to be a brilliant inventor. Your mind is captivated by him; you want to understand his mysterious contraption, and your gaze moves along him, down his left arm, and you see it's not a real arm at all; it is made out of strange blue metal, the hand holding yours is made out of the same material. The forearm is mostly covered by his coat, but you're sure that everything from at least his elbow down is a prosthesis; the rest is hidden by the flowy sleeve. You feel his fingers move so organically that you're sure this must be lost technology. What a strange man! You've never seen anything like this.

"Now, straighten your legs and hold on tight," you hear the man say gently, and you follow his command. You relax your legs and grab tightly onto him. His strong arm around you presses you into his side, and you wrap your legs with one of his to make sure you cannot slip away from his grasp and plummet to your death.

You are still mesmerized by his wings, how large they are as they stretch out behind him, allowing him to fly effortlessly through the air. You feel a rush of adrenaline as you soar higher. The streets beneath you look so small; people are just specs moving around. You let out a gasp of amazement, and it makes the strange man chuckle. He flies you both over some rooftops, and you see the familiar doughnut shop come into view.

"You're a natural." You hear him praise you, but to you, it makes little sense; all you do is hold onto him for dear life. But you can't deny the exhilarating rush of flying through the sky. You have never felt so free. The wind whips through your hair as you soar above the city. You feel like you could touch the clouds. You relax a little bit in his grasp, hearing his feathers rustle in the wind as they allow you to glide through the air. To your surprise, very few people pay any attention to you. Most of them are too focused on the parade passing by. The ones who did notice you stared in awe, not believing their eyes or perhaps mistaking you for a worm.

You get closer and closer to the familiar shop, and you realize he is aiming for the second floor balcony. He lands gracefully on the bannister and gently guides you onto the floor, like you weigh nothing at all. His hand holds onto yours for a little longer as he bows closer.

"I'll make sure to draw them off, but wait a bit before you head back outside." His voice is low and gentle, with a soft smile dancing on his lips and in the glimmer of his eyes.

"Okay," you say, still stunned by what had just happened. Your fingers gently grip his as he straightens up and pulls his hand from you. His wings fold down behind his back and disappear before he takes his coat and drapes it over his shoulders.

"That's my girl," he says with a low and husky voice, a hint of pride in it. He smiles brightly and takes a step back, making you gasp as he falls into nothingness. You rush to peek over the railing, only to find that he has disappeared into the crowd with no hint of anyone noticing him at all, so he must be alright. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he is safe.

You linger on the balcony for a little while longer. It all seems too incredible to be true—almost magical. Never would you have thought something like this could happen to you; you are so used to your dull life of being the eldest, but then again, that's what it means to be a responsible and reliable older sibling. Or perhaps you have caught some nasty disease and are just imagining all this during a fever dream. Either way, you enjoyed this. The realization prods you in the side as you remember that you didn't even ask the gentleman's name. Perhaps you will get lucky and see him introducing his invention at a parade in the future. Or perhaps this encounter will just remain a peculiar memory in the back of your mind.

You turn to enter the hallway and see a wide-eyed young woman staring back at you. She is frozen, like she has seen a ghost, and she looks at you with a hint of mistrust.

"Hello," you say, trying to strike up a conversation. "I'm here to see Meryl; she's my little sister. I'm sorry to have just barged in to the staff's quarters. Could you tell her I'm here? I'm in no rush; I'll wait till she has time."

She still stares at you and seems too frozen to say anything, only giving you a stiff nod and heading downstairs, where you hear a lot of commotion. You turn back to look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man again, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sweet smell of doughnuts and jam fills your nose as you patiently wait for your sister.

You fall deep into thought, only to be awoken by some loud running footsteps heading your way and Meryl's voice calling out your name. She rushes to you and grabs your hands, so you turn to face her.

"Meryl!" you say with slight apprehension as you see the surprise in her face.

"What's going on? Someone just told me you flew down into our balcony!" She says it with disbelief. It takes you a moment to process her words before responding.

"So that did happen. That wasn't a dream," you say with a mix of confusion and sadness. You hear a different voice speak to Meryl as you turn your gaze out the window again, not registering what they talk about. You relive everything that has happened to you within the last half hour in your head, trying to commit every detail to memory. Meryl looks at you with concern as you look away so apathetically and then drags you with her to the backrooms of the kitchen to sit down with you on some boxes in the storage room. She presses you until you open up and tell her everything about your track here and the strange man who saved you.

"Wow! He must have been an inventor then!" Meryl exclaims as you finish your story with how he disappeared into the crowd.

"But he was so kind to me. He rescued me, Meryl."

"Of course he did! He was trying to seduce you! You are so lucky! If that inventor was Vash, he would have done much worse right then and there! He is an awful womanizer!"

"No, he wouldn't. Vash only does that to beautiful girls."

"Ah, don't give me that! You need to be more careful! It's dangerous out there! Even the infamous Millions Knives is back on the prowl." She looks at the side of your face and leans closer. "Are you listening?"

But you are so consumed by your thoughts, you barely realize what she is saying. Your gaze had been fixed by a giant tub of custard.

"Huh?" You finally turn to face your sister again.

"Argh!" Meryl lets out a disgruntled sigh. You see it from her face that she's about to start lecturing you, but a young man informing her about a new batch of dougnuts being done saves you from it.

"Okay! I'll be right there!" She turns a touch more cheerfully toward the cook.

"Alright! I better get going then. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You stand up, ready to leave, to both avoid getting Meryl into trouble and getting an earful from her about the horrible danger that is lurking outside the city walls.

Meryl sees through you immediately but chooses not to lecture you this time on that topic. She leads you to the backdoor, where a man is carrying bags of flour.

"Now," Meryl comes close to you again. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in that gunshop?"

"The shop was just so important to father, and I'm the eldest! I don't mind." You try to keep your tone cheerful as you look into her concerned face. But deep down, you know her words stir something up.

"I'm not asking what father would have wanted. I want to know what you want," she continues insistently.

"Well," you start to answer, not sure about what to say, but the man who carried in the flour comes back to say goodbye to Meryl, and your sister turns to him to wave goodbye. You take the opportunity to start to walk away and say, "I better get going."

"It's your life! Do something for yourself for once, will you?" she says, hoping that you will finally prioritize your own happiness.

"Bye, Meryl!" you say over your shoulder with a slight smile as you head home. Your head is still filled with a million thoughts, and Meryl only added to them. Yet you are glad she seems happy with her new life after she left your family's gunshop. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever find the same peace and contentment. But it matters little; you're the eldest, and you have a duty.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun manga #trigun 98 #trigun maximum #fanfiction #fanfic #tristamp #plant boi #writing #humanoid typhoon #vash the stampede #x reader #vash x reader #cashxreader #studio ghibli #howl's moving castle

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druh19 · 2 months

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Também quero pedir icons de mbti :3 Pode fazer de personagens ISFJ?? Por favorzinho

Só personagem de qualidade, em? 🤏

༝ ISFJ characters icons |like and reblog if saved|

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in-a-mountain-pool · 10 months

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The Boy Who Swallowed a Dragon's Fire

Aemond Targaryen x Original Character (Reader)

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: T

warnings: So fluffy it made me feel sick~

word count: 4500+

summary: Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. This is, until the night of the hunt to celebrate your younger sister's marriage to her Lannister lion of a husband.

"You live inside my memories, you live forever into the melody of a brook, in the colour of this sky, in the fragrance of flowers."

The Promise of the World

authors note: I have returned from my holibobs! I've been listening to Joe Hisaishi for weeks as I've been lucky enough to get tickets to see him in London! I couldn't stop thinking about Aemond whenever I heard "A Walk in the Skies" from Howl's Moving Castle, and suddenly this little plot bunny formed. As always, likes, comments and reblogs are not a requirement, but lovely to return to. Huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @bottlesandbarricades for reading over this!

You had always hated the hunt.

Even more so the feasts afterwards and the raucous way the men would stomp around in all their armour and grandeur, proud to be covered in the blood of whatever poor animal they'd had the dumb luck to stumble upon in the woods.

The grounds of the Eyrie were covered in a rainbow patchwork of tents of all shapes and sizes. From the sky blue and silver colours of your own family to the deep black and red hues of the house of the dragon; anyone who was anyone was in attendance for this summer's eve. Smoke and the smells of spoils of barbecued boar and deer filled the air, spilt wine and blood-soaked deep into the ground beneath their feet.

And all of this, was to celebrate the wedding of your younger sister, the Lady Myranda Arryn, to her golden Lannister Lion of a husband.

You were the second daughter of the Lord of the Vale, and much to your parent’s despair, the only remaining daughter unmarried; the Lady Robyn Arryn. You had been overlooked almost all of your life, the short one with mousy brown hair and a face you had been told was 'fair but plain' on more than one occasion. When you had been lined up to greet the crowds of prospective Lord's your father had hoped to wed you to, yours was a face they often forgot.

Whilst your sisters had spent their opening seasons being dragged onto the dance floors of halls all over Westeros, you had often remained on the sidelines, slipping out as early as possible to peruse the vast libraries of the great houses you had been so lucky to visit. You still remembered the day you visited the libraries of the Red Keep after the wedding of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower. Even at the innocent age of five it had left a great impression on your mind and soul.

Ever since, your heart had ached to read every book you could get your hands on, to visit the great citadel at Hightower and to seek out the secrets of the magical world around you. The smell of an old library full of scrolls and parchment was your idea of home, of heaven… yet here you were sitting in a muggy tent at an ungodly hour, pretending to seem impressed when your new golden-haired brother-in-law brandishes the pike he'd used to gut the very boar you were eating.

You can hardly hide the distaste on your face as he shoves the pike into his squire’s hands and takes a long swig from an obnoxiously large tankard of ale, with a bejewelled lions head on the side, before pulling your sister onto his lap to stick his tongue down her throat.

With a snivelling sneer he proclaimed out loud, "I do not know what a finer conquest is, the boar I stuck this morn, or the falcon I'm going to stick tonight!"

The room explodes with the sounds of the laughter of drunken men, slamming their glasses on tables and cheering on the young lion who currently had his hand up your younger sister’s skirt.

You could hardly stand it, the disrespect, the brazen attitude of it all. Memories of your sister's childhood rush through your mind, her love of the great romantic knights, tales of gentle touches, roses and chivalry… none of which were present in this tent, at this lavish wedding party. Bile raised in your throat as a deep-seated anger filled your body, and you stand up suddenly to speak, the throw pillows underneath you falling to the ground.

Before you can spit out your vitriol, you feel a large hand on your shoulder. It was your father. He pulls you to the side pressing a goblet of wine into your hands, whispering harshly to you over bards playing the Rains of Castamere. You swore they'd already played it at least five times this eve.

"Robyn. You will do well to remember yourself. The Lannisters are family now. You should be proud of your young sister. Tis’ a good match."

You barely get to open your mouth in protest when you notice your father’s eyes flash to someone across the room, and before you know it, his hand is pressed to your back, guiding you towards a crooked old man who must have been at least twice your age.

"Lord Royce! Have you met my fair Daughter, Lady Robyn?"

Lord Royce looks you up and down with a disgusting glint in his eye, licking his lips to catch the wine he'd almost poured down his chin just a second before. You see he has a few teeth missing, and a slight shaking in the hand clutching at his wine.

"I do believe we have; I was present at her christening in the Sept of Baelor. My, how she has grown. A Lady now indeed." He drawls, slurring his words.

Your father gives him a tight smile and gestures between you both drunkenly, before shooting you a glare and all but shoving you towards the older man, "Well then, you will have much to talk about and catch up on! Mayhap a dance on this joyous of occasions?"

"Father, I-" There was no time to express your displeasure, for Lord Royce had already dragged you to the centre of the tent, his gnarled hand wrapped around yours in a vice grip and his ringed fingers digging into your skin painfully. He spun you around in time with the other dancers, his hand lingering on your waist for all too longer than necessary at every opportunity. The smell of his breath was pungent and rotten as he leaned forward to whisper into your ear.

"To think I have not laid eyes on you since you were a babe." Lord Royce's hand slips down your waist to your hip and further still to squeeze at the soft swell of your behind with a wicked chuckle. "You are a babe no longer it seems…"

A soft yelp escapes your throat, your eyes wide with shock and fear. No one had even noticed you shriek, the music too loud, the flow of wine too heady, the heat of the night all too great. You wretch your body away from him in distaste.

"My Lord, forgive me but you forget your manners! Touch me again and I will summon my sword."

A cruel grin spreads across his face, his missing teeth giving a lispy rasp to his voice as he suppresses his own laughter. "It makes no difference to me, I am afraid. Your sword is soon to be my sword, my dear. Tis' already decided. We had best practice our dances, for soon we will be dancing at our very own wedding feast."

A cold chill runs down your spine as the reality of the situation hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Father planned to marry you to Lord Royce. He needed to secure his Bannerman. You were the last unmarried daughter. It was two birds with one stone.

You stumble backwards, almost tripping on a discarded tankard on the floor of the tent, shaking your head over and over. It couldn't be true. Surely Father wouldn't be so heartless? Your vision tunnels as your feet carry you away hastily out of the tent and into the humid summer air, all to the sound of Lord Royce's cruel laughter.

Your slippered feet ache as you run away, disoriented and panting, tears streaming down your face. Shakily you grab a black discarded cape hung on the back of a chair, shrouding yourself and running as fast as you can through the hunt.

Colours of the great houses flash you by, the white falcon, the rich gold and reds of the lion, the silver wolf, all passing over you in a blur… and when you finally stop, you've ran so far you had hardly noticed the colours had turned black as night, with the blood red sigil of the three-headed dragon flying lazily upon banners in the dull summer's breeze.

You were no longer in the Lion's den; you'd wandered somewhere far more frightening… straight into the Dragon's hoard. Only your father, sister and her new husband had been allowed into the royal tents, to present themselves to the good King Viserys. If they caught you here alone and unchaperoned your reputation would be ruined.

With shaking hands, you wrap the dirty cloak around your shoulders tighter to hide the rich azure blue of your dress, as you creep away from the large tents and towards the woods at the outskirts of the camp. It was either you brave the dangers of the wood for the night, or return to the clutches of Lord Royce.

With a heavy heart you plunge deeper into the darkness of the woods. Settling upon a tree stump beside a small creek, your gaze falls upon your once silver slippers, now ruined and caked in mud. There was once a time when you would have cared about such a thing, but now all you could feel was numbness in your soul which made your whole body cold. Your hands were tied and there was nowhere to run. Life was not a beautiful song, or a romantic tale of heroes and great loves. You break into a sob, burying your face into your hands, heaving breaths leaving your chest.

You had done well to get away without an arranged marriage for this long. At the age of twenty-five you had come to be considered an old maid amongst the court. Now, gone was the age of innocence, and the dreams that you might one day experience true love.

*Crack*

The silence of the wood and the night air was broken by the snapping of twigs underfoot, as slowly from the distance two figures emerged from the brush. Your body freezes as you see the sigil on their breastplates. A shower of pebbles upon an orange square. It was two knights sworn to the House Royce. They saunter over to you smirking, as you scurry off the stump to lean against a great oak trunk protectively. The larger of the two men places his hand to lean just above your head, peering down at you with a smirk.

"Looks like a little falcon chick has lost her way."

You shake your head nervously, paling as you realise that you are so deep into the woods that no one would hear you scream. No matter how hard you try.

"No- No, I'm not lost. I-"

They share a look between them, reeking of ale and blood.

"I think this little falcon chick looks thirsty. I think we should take her for a cup of ale, don't you? Lord Royce wouldn't mind."

His eyes flicker to yours with a glassy look, he was drunk, they both were. And you'd heard stories of what drunk men like him did to women like you.

"No, no thank you. My sister will be expecting me."

They lean closer still, the smaller one getting so close you can feel the heat of his body towering over you.

"She's pretty cute for a little falcon chick. How old are you, anyway? You live up in the big castle, dontcha?" He tries to grab at your wrist, but you wrestle it away violently.

"Leave me alone!"

The taller man chuckled darkly, shooting a derisive look at the shorter knight, "You see? Your big old beard always scares off the pretty girls."

"So? I'd say she's even cuter when she's scared, don't you think?"

You decide your only chance is to run. You'd never outrun them, but you had to try. Blood starts pumping through your veins, the adrenaline hitting you as you get ready to sprint, but as soon as you try to retreat away your back hits something hard and warm… and a slender hand places itself gently on your shoulder.

A deep voice speaks down into your ear, tickling warmly at the soft skin of your neck.

"There you are sweetheart, sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."

The two men stand up straighter ready to fight with their hands upon the hilts of their broadswords.

"Hey- can you not see that we're busy here? Lord Royce wants her back in one piece."

The cloaked man behind you grips your shoulder tighter still, almost protectively. The only part of him visible to you is the curling of his lips, which seemed to twitch at the knight's words uneasily. The deep voice behind you lets out a dark chuckle before he brandishes a large sword with a black hilt, shining in the moonlight… Valyrian steel.

"Are you really? It looked to me that the two of you were just leaving."

At the sight of Valyrian steel the two men cower and shift themselves quickly, bowing at the mystery man and sprinting off into the dark of the wood. Slowly the tall man takes down his hood, and the first thing that strikes you is the glinting of long silver hair in the moonlight… and a single lilac eye searching yours.

It was him, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Aemond One-Eye.

He reaches up ever so gently to take down the hood of your dirtied cloak, his finger brushing your cheek tentatively as he does so before he takes your hand in his and bows down to kiss the back of it with the ghost of a touch of his lips.

"Lady Robyn Arryn. My apologies for not finding you sooner. Where to? I will be your escort this evening."

Words fail you as he continues to hold your hand in his like it was made of porcelain. He almost has to bend down to speak to you he was so tall and imposing, yet there's a deep kindness in his eye that has you transfixed. You'd never met him, but you'd heard the stories. He was quiet and cruel. Studious. A loner through and through. And a demon with a sword.

"Prince Aemond- I-" you try to courtesy, but he continues to hold your hand firmly, shaking his head and chuckling.

"That won't be necessary. Now tell me, where do you wish to go? You must be desperate to brave the woods all on your own." He almost whispers as he speaks, his words delicate and falling off his tongue like the sweetest honey.

You decide to tell the truth, you had no choice, he was the prince, and… he was startlingly handsome in a way that made your chest ache and your fingers itch.

"Please, my Prince, if you would escort me home? I- I cannot go back to the camp. I must not. My father- the Lord of the Vale, he wishes to marry me to Lord Royce the Elder and-"

Suddenly he lifts his hand to quiet you and surveys your surroundings, his sharp jawline prominent and strong against the night. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders, cradling you to his side and walking you both swiftly forward, as his silver hair tickles you at the collar of your low-cut dress.

"Don't be alarmed, but we’re being followed by more of his men. Just act normal."

Aemond is so close you can smell him. He was still wearing his riding leathers from the hunt, smelling like sweat, ash and the damp night air in a way that was all too intoxicating. There's something else there too, something smoky that you can't quite put your finger on. Aemond's touch was different from any other man that had placed their hands on you. He felt safe, warm, inviting and oh so protective of you.

You steal a look at his face in the moonlight as you walk and find he's far more beautiful than the stories give him credit for. It was true what they said that Targaryen's were closer to gods than men, for the beautiful creature next to you could hardly even be human. His profile was enough to make you ache with desire in a way no man had ever produced in you.

*Snap*

Another twig cracked underfoot. Aemond's face dipped down once again close to yours to whisper into your ear, watching your face carefully.

"More of Royce's men. It would appear I am to become involved in a scandal." Aemond sighs and growls slightly in annoyance. His hand releases your shoulder and slides down, enveloping your own in a strong grip. "Now, when I say run, run, ok?"

Further twigs start to snap underfoot behind you, the sound of chainmail in the distance now impossible to ignore.

"This way. Run!" He whispers, pulling you along with him.

His long legs pelt into the ground, his cloak billowing behind him, and his silver hair shining like starlight under the full moon. It's a challenge keeping up with him, his legs are so much longer than yours, but he never let's go for even a moment. All of a sudden you're pulled into a large opening in the woods and a strange burning smell fills your nose… as you’re brought face to face with the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar.

“Wha- Prince Aemond!? What are you suggesting? You can’t be serious!” Your feet dig into the ground as you pull against him, but this only makes him grin wider and chuckle darkly. The rational part of your brain tells you he’s insane, that the stories were indeed true and that you should scream… but then a flicker of wonder appeared in your mind, the very same flicker you felt when you stood in the library in the Red Keep all those years ago.

There in front of you in the flesh was a real dragon, over 150 years old. And beside her, a silver-haired, Targaryen prince. This is it; you think to yourself. All those books you had read, all those stories of old, stories of good triumphing over evil… here was your chance to live it.

“Oh, I’m deadly serious. You do want to go home, do you not? The Eyrie is situated on the top of a mountain, as I recall. Vhagar and I can have you home and in bed safe and sound in mere moments...” He teases excitedly, before his voice and face drops to a more serious and soft tone, his long index finger coming up to raise your chin to look him directly into his eye.

“… Can you trust me?”

The sounds of shouting and swords leaving their hilts echo behind you. Your eyes shift from his striking face down to his hand as he reaches it out to you invitingly. Inhaling a deep breath and closing your eyes for a moment, you utter out an answer grasping his hand in yours.

“Yes. I trust you.”

A small smile you almost miss etches itself onto his face before he leads you swiftly over to the old dragon, pulling on a large black leather coat and passing you his dark hooded cloak.

“You will need the extra layer, my Lady. Now... May I lift you? You will need to climb up to the saddle, and I fear we do not have much time.”

A deep pink blush covers your cheeks at the thought of his strong arms carrying you. There is barely any time to squeak out a small ‘yes’ before Aemond is grasping you at the waist and thrusting you up onto the ropes leading up to Vhagar’s saddle. His hands are so large on your body that they almost encompass your middle section completely. Aemond follows closely behind, catching you a few times to steady you as your foot misses the gaps in the ropes clumsily.

You pull yourself up with a strength you never knew you had, settling into the saddle nervously. You could feel Vhagar breathing underneath you, feel her stretching out at the command of Aemond who was shouting out words in a tongue you’d never heard before. Of course… he was speaking High Valyrian.

“Rȳbagon naejot nyke, Vhagar. Heed ñuha udra.” Ready yourself, Vhagar. Heed my words.

Aemond all but jumps up to the saddle, and with a heavy thud he settles himself behind you. When he scoots forwards to grab at the chains hanging at your side, an even deeper blush covers your face and neck, heat pooling in your stomach. The hard plane of his chest presses against your back, the top of his thighs nudging the underside of your own, now bare as you straddle the seat.

“My apologies, Lady Robyn, but I must strap us to the saddle, and you to me lest we fall.” He laughs softly as he feels you tense against him in fear. “But we won’t, I promise you. I’d never let any harm come to you.”

With deft hands he ties the chains across your lap and his, wrapping a rope around your waist to secure you to him. All at once it hits you just how crazy the situation had become.

“Prince Aemond… I’m frightened! Please, let me off! I can’t do this!”

Aemond leans forward to grab for the reins, his arms tight either side of you, and his chin just above your ear. With hushed tones, he stops you, whispering into your ear.

“Yes. Yes, you can. You are of the Vale. You are of the sky. You and I are made of the same… We own the skies, little Falcon.”

Determination fills you, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had to do whatever it takes. You would make your own destiny. You would make it out of here. You place your hands on the reigns next to his, so small and delicate next to his large strong fists.

“That’s my girl…” He murmurs, and you swear you can feel the crinkle of his smile against your hair before he shouts out to Vhagar.

“Vhagar, ñuha jorrāelagon, urnēptre īlva se nūmāzma hen speed!” Vhagar, my love, show us the meaning of speed!

Aemond places his hand over yours suddenly on the rope, making your heart surge.

“Hold on!”

With a deep rumble, the ground shakes, it feels like the Earth is turning when Vhagar moves to stand on her haunches. Already you are above the trees, and she had not even taken off yet. Vhagar lets out a deep roar stretching her neck into the sky, the screams of Lord Royce’s men in the woods beneath echoing around her as they scramble to run away. She stretches out her wings beating them and like a hurricane they ascend into the night sky.

The forests fade beneath you, deep greens become soft pillowy whites as you soar into the clouds together. After a short while Vhagar’s wings extend, bringing you to a slow glide just above the clouds.

“Now, straighten your posture against me… and see, you’re flying!”

A rich and infectious laugh leaves his throat as the wind surrounds you. The careful pins and ties in your hair are long forgotten, your hair now cascading behind you, flying free.

You can’t help it, you’re not sure if it’s the euphoria of the dragon flight, the drama of the night, or the way Aemond had wrapped himself around you so, but soon you’re laughing with him, exclaiming out loud in a way that was hardly lady-like.

“See? My dear, you are a natural!”

“Prince Aemond, this is incredible! Vhagar, she is magnificent!”

“Se dōna riña thinks iksā gevie, Vhagar!” The sweet girl thinks you are beautiful, Vhagar! Aemond releases a deep belly laugh, slapping the side of Vhagar’s neck fondly.

With a shaking roar, a shooting of flames and sparks spit from Vhagar’s mouth.

He cranes his neck to look at you closely, a warm smile gracing his cat-like lips. “I think she likes you, Lady Robyn! Why don’t you tell her yourself!”

“I am thoroughly impressed, Vhagar! You are a first-class dragon; I adore your spark!” You shout to the ancient dragon as loud as you can against the rushing winds, almost as if you were praising a rather large scaly cat. The rumble that leaves her jaws sounds like a purr, almost the same way her master was chuckling behind you.

Beneath you the clouds become a mismatch of greens and multicoloured tents as you approach the grounds of the Eyrie. From up here you could see the ancient castle in all its beauty. Situated in the Mountains of the Moon and surrounded by cotton clouds, at this height it almost seemed small, like a child’s playset. The waterfall, Alyssa’s tears cascaded down the side of the Giant’s Lance, reflecting off the marble walls of High Hall.

“It’s beautiful… It’s gorgeous, Aemond! It’s like a dream…” For the first time in years, you feel truly alive, and it’s all because of him.

With a whoosh of her wings, Vhagar descends towards the castle and the Maiden’s Tower and it hits you that Aemond really meant what he’d said about having you home and in bed before you knew it.

“Prince Aemond… You’re not- You don’t expect me to climb through the window?!”

A snickering laugh escapes him as he presses his head against yours. You swear for a moment you can feel him smelling your hair, the thought making your thighs clench.

“Of course not. I intend to carry you through the window.”

“What?!” You utter before he shouts over your protests to his Dragon.

“Konīr Vhagar, tegun īlva!” There Vhagar! Land us.

Vhagar’s wings billow out behind her, as she hovers down, clutching to the mountainside and the tower, bringing you level with the balcony of your chambers.

Quietly and ever so gently, he undoes the chains around you both, and the soft rope securing you to his front. Aemond swings his legs to the side, and clambers down the ropes at Vhagar’s large neck. There’s a confident look in his eyes and a glint of warmth as he reaches his arms out towards you, one leg propped up onto the edge of the balcony.

“Come down with me… I promise I’ll catch you. Vhagar already loves you, she’ll be still.”

You take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling before you climb down slowly and turn to face the Prince. His words from earlier echo in your mind… Trust me.

And you did. Without any hesitation you jump from the ropes and into the warm, strong arms of Aemond Targaryen. He cradles you to him in a bridal carry, strong legs pushing you forward through the balcony doors to place you down softly on the chaise lounge next to your fireplace.

A thousand thoughts run through your head as he lingers closely to you, laying you down gently. Aemond’s lilac eye searches yours intensely, his hand still resting beneath your neck, caressing the soft hairs at the nape.

“My lady… Robyn… you were spectacular tonight,” He swallows softly as his gaze slides down to your slim neck and collarbones, whispering your house words to himself as much as you in wonder, “As High as Honor.”

Slowly, he leans forward, staring at your bottom lip passionately. Your eyes flutter shut, your eyelashes batting against your cheek. With a gentle caress of your hair, he presses the tenderest of kisses, the only kiss you’d ever had, to your lips.

It lasted but a moment, but you knew it would stay with you forever.

Aemond pulls away gingerly, his silver hair tickling your chest. Like a knight from a storybook, he stands up tall and bows, taking your hand in his to kiss at the back of it with unearthly grace.

“… My lady, do not leave your room, keep the door locked… I will return to you soon.”

He moves to leave quickly, the sound of Vhagar rumbling outside the balcony doors. Before he can clamber over the side of the fencing you find the courage to stop him, calling from your room.

“Aemond! Aemond wait… Where are you going?”

With a flick of his silver hair, he throws a radiant smile to you over his shoulder, his lilac eye shining in the moonlight.

“To see my father. You will not be wed to Lord Royce… And I plan to fly with you till the end of my days.”

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #howl's moving castle #hotd fanfiction #aemond one eye #fics by me

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queersturbate · 11 months

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my wifi + data completely went out for the night and the only thing that would load was a few chapters of @sensitiveheartless 's Howl's Moving Castle SKK AU so i drew them

#bsd #bsd fanart #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #fanart #fanfic #howl's moving castle #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs fanart #i couldnt look up references either SO I COULDNT INCLUDE THE HAT #also im pretty sure i got their designs a little wrong

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yourteght · 29 days

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» OS PORQUÊS — pedido pessoal

⟅03.03.2024 — sendo bem sincero, a "capa tá pronta" já faz um tempo (desde o mês passado) MAS ainda não tinha colocado aquele ✨tchan✨para entregar a capa, e por isso que sim, vai ficar com essa data (essa explicação é inútil mas estou bem elétrico editando esse post então ignorem meus devaneios e sigam o flow). Eu sou apaixonado por esse filme (tanto que se eu pudesse, me juntaria a trupe e viveria nesse universo de tão perfeito que é) e até por isso que minha lista de ships supremos dos animes começou com Howl e Sophie e dado a esse fato, sou muito grato ao Castelo Animado por ser otaku fedido kkkk eu tive dificuldade com essa capa pq ainda sofro com os pombinhos e comecei com uma ideia romântica (óbvio que eu vou tentar tacar estilo romântico em tudo que é capa e não ta tudo bem) mas eu achei uma fofura essa capa gente, uma capa clean muita nhom nhom pra aquecer meu coração em tempos tão turbulentos pra mim. E é isso <3

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manias-wordcount · 1 month

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Can I request a Howl fic where he literally whisks u away to fuck and makes you forget all ur worries? I love the way you write Howl, it's so hard to find good howl fics so ty 🙏

Dizzy (Howl Jenkins Pendragon x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘅

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Dizzy. He makes you feel dizzy.

It happens all the time. When he pulls you away from your work. From your reading. From chores. From your worries. He takes you in his arms. When he holds you so tight and so close and so warm. He makes you feel dizzy. He makes your head spin and your heart swell. He makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. So hot- so damn hot to the touch. But above all else?

“You take me so well, my starlight.”

He makes you feel so, so good.

“Ah…” A soft mewl pours from your mouth. It’s the furthest thing from innocent. It’s the furthest thing from decent. But you’re helpless to stop it. Helpless to control it. The sound just pours from your open mouth. It walks free from your parted lips. The drool starting to spill out from the corners of your mouth does little to slow it down or lessen its volume. But it’s exactly how Howl wants it. It’s exactly how Howl wants you. So blissed out. So fucked out. And feeling so fucking great that you start to forget things that once were important. “Um…Howl, it’s… sogood.”

So good that you start to forget anything that isn’t his name.

“That’s it…” Howl murmurs from above you, moving his hips in time with his words. “I got you, starlight. I got you…”

You let out another sound, but you don’t even try to form words. His voice sounds so pretty yet so far away. And his words sound absent. Like he’s far too focused on what he’s doing to you rather than what he’s saying. And that isn’t too hard to believe. You can just barely recall how this started. How he seemed so concerned as he watched you flutter around the house after sending Markl on a long list of errands. The work was starting to pile up and you were starting to stress. So at first, you didn’t even want to lay down with Howl. You felt too panicked. Like you had too much work to do yet so little time.

But all it took was a few honeyed words and suddenly, you were being led to your bedroom by his hand. Candles being lit as you passed them by. The blinds being drawn closed to give you enough sunlight to see, but enough privacy to feel like the only person in the world as he swooped in and pressed his lips against yours. Sometime later, your clothes are off and his face is between your legs. He lapped at your pussy with great, great thirst in between the love bites he bit into his skin. Making you squeal and squirm until you promised him that you would take the rest of the day off to let yourself be spoiled. To be treated the way you should be treated. To be loved the way you should be loved. All by him.

Now, he has you on you on your stomach. A pillow propped up under your hips and your head resting on another one. Last you saw his pants were down to his ankles, and his hair was tied up and out of the way as he sunk his cock into your tight, awaiting hole. Now, his body crowds around you as your bodies become one. He whispers to you in these times. He tells you how pretty you looked today. He tells you how kind you are. How smart and wise and perfect you are to him. He tells you how much he wanted you today. How much he wants you all the time. How he thinks about nothing but taking you in his lap and lifting up your skirt and stuffing you nice and full of his fingers until you’re all soft for him. How he thinks about nothing but pulling your panties to the side, bending you over the nearest surface, and keeping you there until you beg for him to move. But most of all?

He tells you that your body must be made of magic. That you must be made of magic. Because why else would his own body tell him that he needs to have every inch of you claimed as his if you were anything but?

But you’re not sure of his words. You’re not sure of really anything right now. But you do know that you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want him to stop rolling his hips and filling you up. You just want him to take control. To keep making you feel good. To keep commenting about how good you feel. How wet you are. How loud you are. How sweet and pretty and pliable and needy you are. All for him. Only for him.

But you don’t tell him any of this. You can’t. Because he makes you dizzy. So dizzy that you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning little mess he speeds up his strokes and you soak his dick in your cream. So dizzy that’s all too soon, you’re clenching around him- and clenching even harder as he groans in pleasure. Your voice gets louder. Louder than the sound of the bed shaking and the frame hitting against the wall. Louder than the embarrassingly wet sounds your precious little cunt makes as it swallows him up inside. Louder than the sound of his body making contact with yours- his pelvis bouncing against your ass time and time again as he goes deeper and faster and deeper and faster and-

“See how good I take care of you, starlight?”

His voice is like heaven in your ears. But it still makes you so dizzy. He makes you so dizzy. So you don’t respond to the low, low murmurs that come out of his mouth once more. At least not with words. Because your body is all too eager to offer up squeals and whimpers and whines as he increases his pace. Your body is all too eager to shift behind him as his lips press themselves against your skin. Letting him deliver all the kisses he wants to the space behind your ears and your neck and your shoulder and wherever else he can reach. Because you’re putty in his hands. Because you want to be spoiled. Because you want to listen to him. Because you need him as he needs you.

“I’ll take care of you like this every single day if you let me.”

So you’ll do what he asks of you. You’ll only think of him. You’ll only fill your thoughts of him, him, him.

“So only think of me…”

Even if the mere mention of your Howl makes you so incredibly dizzy.

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