koro-sensei deserves so many fics omg! and i really wish i could write for senku, but he's is so fucking smart, how am i ever supposed to capture his character! shikamaru is an underrated king.
2. THE MAGICIANS
need i say anything? look at their eyes ughhhhhhhhhhh need more.
3. THE GOOFBALLS
i am still shocked by how few Luffy-centric fics we have. it's just not fair! jiraya is a genuine hear me out, but i think people can relate...right? and for naruto, i mean exclusively adult naruto, i've seen barely a handful :(
⟡ ݁₊˚⊹ SWEETHEART, SORRY IM LATE, I WAS LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ
—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ synopsis♡: when one fateful day leads to you being cursed, you go on a mission to find the infamous satoru gojo and his castle, but little do you know you’d find yourself in his bed later that night..
—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ featuring♡: satoru gojo x reader
—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ tags♡: unprotected sex, riding, oral (fem!recieving), mating press, praise, making out, p in v, cervix kissing, big dick gojo!
—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ a/n♡: howl’s moving castle is my favorite studio ghibli film ever, so you already know i had to write a fanfic about it!
—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ w/c♡: 4.5k
"oh, darling won't you come out of that hat shop with us, you're truly overworking yourself!"
you smile softly, eyes flickering over to where your expectant sisters stood watching you, before looking back at the vibrant purple hat you had been working on, threading through with flowers. "oh no, i couldn't. you all go ahead, though."
they giggle softly at your reply, already well-acquainted with your firm work ethics and habits of almost never leaving the shop, tossing a, "suit yourself!" over their shoulders.
and as the door closes behind them, leaving you to stare at all of the colorful creations of caps littering your desk, you sigh, leaning back to take them all in.
maybe you had been working too hard..
being the eldest daughter of your family, you had been entrusted with the shop from a young age, making and sewing up hats for a living. it had been your father's, though now had been passed down to your mother, who had appointed you as an apprentice, although you were practically the only one who crafted and fabricated everything, and though the work was quiet and calming, it did tend to get rather boring at times.
the interior of the shop was tiny and just a bit cramped, every available surface being taken by assortments of feathery, patterned hats in almost every color. brown, old, and creaking rows of shelves surrounded your working area along with coatracks dipping under the weight of all the caps resting on them.
and though it wasn't much, it was yours.
you continued working for another hour, listening to the rickety clock on your wall tick tick tick away, with an impending sense of dull weariness.
was this all you were ever meant to do?
finally, you push back in your chair with a squeak! decidedly grabbing your hat and plucking it on your head, locking and closing the shop door with a resolute slam.
you would get out and see the town to clear your head. it wasn’t good to lock yourself away in the shop for too long, so you needed to breathe some fresh air before you started working again, and find some inspiration.
and so, you venture out through the hustle and bustle of crowded markets, trains whistling and blowing gray smoke as they chuff along, and the bumping of carriages along stoney paths.
the air grows thick with the amount of people thronging around you, spilling heedlessly in countless directions, and after more than one person gets in your way and abruptly stops, you huff, veering off toward a side alleyway.
it wasn't ideal but it would just have to..
bump!
“hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone? you lost, sweetheart?”
a slightly heavier set, blonde man leaned in front of you on a wall, blocking your path. he smiled down at you condescendingly, but it lacked any actual warmth, all teeth instead.
“n-no sir, i’m not lost.” you manage to stammer out, trying to duck past him, but seemingly out of nowhere his companion sidles up next to him, bumping his hip and peering down at you, his mean brown eyes and thick mustache seeming menacing in the dim lighting.
“you sure?” his friend snickers, one gloved hand reaching for your side and spinning you around to press against his chest, a sinisterly unfamiliar cologne surrounding and practically suffocating you with its intensity. “why don’t we show you the way home?”
“leave me alone!” you gasp out, trying to break free from their suddenly too-tight grip on you.
“there you are sweetheart, sorry i’m late, i was looking everywhere for you.”
your body stiffens as a large, warm hand comes to grasp gently at your wrist, tugging you away from the two men, and spinning you around to lay eyes on the most beautiful man you had ever seen.
his eyes were azure colored and half-lidded, his voice low and resonant throughout the empty alleyway. he was dressed extravagantly with a poofy white button-up and red and black pattered overcoat flowing loosely behind him, and as his eyes meet yours, something warm twinges in your stomach, the feeling spreading all down your body hotly.
his gaze flickers away to the men still stood there, as if noticing them for the first time, and something about him sharpens, voice noticeably colder. “oh? and what are you two doing?”
"hey, we were just.." the blonde one's voice raises indignantly, trying to pull you back to them with a hasty tug.
"leaving." the blue-eyed man behind you finishes, his other hand lifting to raise his pointer finger and slice it to the side, causing the two men to immediately break into a march, boots landing heavily as they stomp away in sync.
"wha.. how did you?" you stare up at him in wonder, his own flicking down to your face with a small little smirk tugging at his lips.
"magic. now hang on!"
before you can even reply, he's grabbing you by the hand, and lifting you effortlessly up, up, up, into the sky, floating alongside him high above the town, all the people below you seemingly tiny dots scattered around the vibrant landscaping.
"oh!" you exclaim, fearfully clinging onto him as you feel weightless, the air whooshing below and around you.
"straighten your legs, it's okay.." the white-haired man whispers to you playfully, hands curling protectively around you. "now, start walking andd.. see! you're a natural!" he laughs softly at your hesitant steps into the air, growing more confident as he holds you up with ease.
the ground becomes a blur as you match each other's steps, airily floating as if it were any other day, coasting in sync as colors whirl below you in a mess of banners and flags.
"so, where ya headed?" the man's sultry, honeyed tone interrupts you as you quickly turn to glance at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"oh, i.. uh.. just the hat shop."
so much for your day out.
"hmm, a hat maker you are?" you follow his eyes to where they linger on your simple little sun hat adorned with red ribbon.
"something like that.."
he smiles as he glides over to the small overlooking balcony outside your workshop, helping you down easily, your wide eyes gazing up at him as he prepares to leave again.
"make sure to be more careful next time you're out, mmkay? not everyone around here is quite as gentlemanly as me." his tousled, snowy white hair billows around him as he grins down at you teasingly.
" 'kay.." you nod shyly, and he begins to back up, smile widening.
"good girl."
and blowing a kiss to you, he jumps back off the balcony, eliciting a small gasp from you as you instantly rush over to press yourself against it, straining for a better look.
but he's already gone, practically dissipated into thin air.
with a tired sigh, and a combing of your fingers through messy hair, you lock the door to your shop with a click! before slumping down to the floor.
it had been a long day, and just as you're starting to relax, you hear a small, telltale tinkling of the bell that hangs above your door, alerting you when new customers arrive.
"hello? sorry ma'am we're closed right now." you start to stand up, noticing the woman in front of you, her face slightly flushed and eyebrows scrunched, as if in anger.
her figure is awfully plump, with a round, chubbed neck and doughy arms that hang out of her dress like deflated balloons.
her makeup is done rather sharply, as if made to look intimidating with hooked eyeliner and boldly colored eyeshadow, all accompanied by rouge red lipstick and a mole on the side of her mouth.
"why, you!" she stops right in front of you, lifting her─many─chins to stare down the bridge of her flat nose at you. "it was you he was floating around with this afternoon?"
you stiffen. she couldn't possibly mean..
"that wretch!" she hisses angrily. "eleven miserable years of my life spent chasing him! and this is what he does?" she slams her hand down on the counter loudly, causing you to flinch.
"please leave now! we're closed!" you say, your voice taking on a more firm tone as you try not to tremble, straightening yourself up.
she wheels around at you then, as if having forgotten you were there, still rambling on with passion. "oh? standing up to the most powerful witch, are we?"
her overdone, puckered lips draw up into a sinister little grin as you start to back up, unsure of yourself now.
witch?
"since he likes you so much, let's see if you can win over my precious, when i haven't been able to in more than a decade!"
black oozing spirits erupt from her flabby form, rushing over to you as you stand agape, horrified.
"and if you don't manage to fully capture his fleeting heart, you will die!"
all of a sudden, a cloying murky fog drifts in the homey space of the shop, invading your every sense, and clogging your nose tightly.
"what..?" you gasp, but all at once, it surges over to you, enveloping you in its tepid humidity, your mouth gulping in thick heaves of it, pouring into your throat, mouth, eyes, and nose with tendrils extending out of you, like a possession of your very body.
and then.. all is silent as darkness settles upon you, save for the fading echoes of the evil witch's deep, resounding laugh booming throughout the night.
when you open your eyes again, peeking out through your fingers carefully, you don’t feel different, with the exception of a vague, lingering sense of fear.
you were still plain ol' regular you, the you that stayed in working all day and turned down invitations to go out, opting to sew hats instead.
but something was.. off.
what had happened last night to make you so dazed, and memories so jumbled up?
and then, as quickly as it had been evading you, it all comes rushing back─ the man who had floated you into the air as if in a dream, the witch appearing, the sound of her cackle as she cursed you..
when you think back on the specifics of the spell she had cast however, you feel yourself pale, hands falling to your sides limply.
you were supposed to make the mysteriously magical guy that you had met yesterday fall in love with you? when you didn’t even know his name, or who he was?
that was practically impossible.
taking a deep breath, you desperately begin to wrack your brain for ideas as you try not to panic or think about the cruel ways the witch would kill you if you didn’t end up being capable of it.
one way you knew however that would be worth a shot to undo the curse, would be to find a well-practiced witch or wizard, and have them lift the curse from you, saving you a lot of time having to look for the elusive man and making him love you.
but.. there was no guarantee it would work.
you sigh heavily, trying to calm yourself down. that would mean leaving your town behind to move toward the wastelands where the witches resided, and in turn, leaving your faithful little shop, the only place you’d ever known to travel in the hopes for a remedy.
and so, it was with great strength that you straightened yourself up, huffing determinedly, and placing your hat firmly upon your head before heading out, intent on finding a way to break the curse before it was too late..
to the far west of the town, where weeds ran wild and the flowers never bloomed, muddy trails streaked across the land in brown stripes, was where you found it.
a creaking thing, four-legged and made of rotting wood with rusty pipes haphazardly sticking out of it, emitting black curling smoke to twine through the air, its agape, timber mouth and chipping, corroded eyes bringing a shiver to your spine.
gojo’s castle.
you had heard of it many times from your sisters, stories varying from grossly evil reenactments of how he devoured the hearts of beautiful women in search of his own, to tales of his haunting beauty, with glowing, cerulean eyes that were the last thing you'd ever see of the world, never being able to tell a soul.
and then it occurs to you.
of course! gojo was the most powerful wizard of them all, wielding magic that left no trace, going along with his cold reputation and secretive identity.
he could easily remedy the curse placed upon you with a snap! of his deadly fingers, but with the consequence that you still might not leave alive.
you look back up at the faltering, tarnished castle beginning to build up speed as it strode along.
it was now or never.
and so, with a running start and a leap of faith, you manage to clamber aboard the quickly taking-off oxidized clunker, clutching on to the door handle tightly before the wind practically shoves you inside, falling to the floor in a heap with a little, “oof!”
and when you look back up, rubbing your head with a wince, the enormity of the castle stretches before you, all glittering details that suggest riches, and antique, aged wooden furniture, cobwebs crowding near the top of the roof from the impossible vastness of it all.
slowly, you make it to your feet again, looking down all of the many stretching hallways for a sign of life, your steps clicking on the tiled floor ominously.
“hello? anyone here?” you call out, but to no avail.
eventually, your steps lead you to a small, tucked away room, filled with heaps of glinting trinkets and worn carpet that suggested someone had been here many times before.
there are bookshelves with dusty paperbacks piled atop them and shiny frames, but your interest was in the hefty bed shoved in the center, dipping under the weight of quilted blankets thrown lazily across it, and antique floral pillows that looked alike to a grandmother’s.
from the hours of walking that it had taken you to get here, your feet ached and your eyelids were already starting to droop from exhaustion.
all you needed was a nice sleep, and after evaluating your choices, your fatigue eventually wins as with a soft sigh, you shed your slightly muddied clothes into a pool on the floor, and trudge to the edge of the bed, lifting the heavy covers to slide in, your breathing slowing as you drift off, blissfully unaware of the warmth radiating from someone next to you.
darkness covers the room, so you don’t notice when you turn over on your side and press your soft tits against a moving, breathing body next to you, slinging your leg across him and drifting back off.
but he does, stirring awake with a sleepy murmur and tired, blue eyes blinking open only to freeze on your face, his cock hardening painfully in his pants instantly.
it couldn’t be..
you yawn sleepily, shifting closer only for your hand to drape itself directly across his lap,
fuck.
his eyes squeeze shut, breathing coming in soft, short pants as he tries to control himself.
this was so wrong, you were sleeping, completely unaware of..
your eyes flutter, and you groan as your hand curls around something hot, heavy, and pulsing, twitching beneath your touch frantically.
immediately, his face flushes a tinge pinker, eyes growing half-lidded and his breaths coming faster. wake up, wake up, wake up.
and then with a small yawn, your eyes blearily open to blink drowsily at your surroundings, startling only when they land on the pleading, blue eyed man next to you, hips unintentionally pushing up into your hand for more.
you scramble backward as your eyes land on where you’re tightly gripping him, gasping with surprise and already stumbling over an apology.
“i-i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t know there was someone in here or i would’ve..”
but before you can stutter out another word, his mouth is on yours, and he’s kissing you hard, lips crashing onto yours a little uncertainly, as if he was lacking the experience, only making up for it in eagerness as he quickly finds the softness of your hip, pulling you closer and tugging your leg over him so the heat of your core is against him.
and then, as suddenly as he had been on you, he pulls back, face still shadowed and lined with the darkness of night as you gasp for breath from the intensity of it all.
you lean closer to him, causing your plushy tits to press up against his arm as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark, only being able to see a faint outline of the man before you.
“i’m trying to control myself, but you’re making it a bit hard, sweetheart.” his voice is deep, slightly hoarse, and familiar all at once though you can’t quite place where you know him from.
you feel warmth pooling between your legs and lean forward, your hair tickling his face as you prop yourself up atop him.
“are you gojo? the wizard who eats the hearts of pretty girls?” you breathe out, rubbing your thighs together subtly.
he swallows thickly, lips parting slightly as his hand slowly makes its way to squeeze the soft, supple skin of your thighs as if grounding himself, his body feverish beneath yours as you feel his raging bulge poking into you with every small movement you make.
"s-something like that, although right now i'm thinking of eating something else.." his large hands skim slightly over your inner thighs, grazing the hot, gushing flood of wetness that had already begun to seep from your panties generously, one long thick finger curling slightly to press on your throbbing lil' clit like a button, your pink lips parting in a gasp as your eyes roll back immediately.
“y-you..” but your words immediately die in your throat as the bed dips and creaks as he rolls you over so he’s on top of you before pressing soft kisses all the way down your body, breathing out a soft, “s’this okay?” to which you quickly nod, already breathless for more.
and then he’s tugging your panties down in one swift motion, and exhaling sharply at the sight of your dripping cunt all laid bare before him, the feeling of the cool air grazing you making you squirm slightly.
two warm, large palms spanning across your waist hold you down as he nuzzles his head between your thighs, placing a chaste kiss to your pussy before pulling back, strings of arousal already attached to his lips.
“mmh.. so sweet.” he quickly buries himself between your legs, busying his mouth with lapping at you like a man starved, his tongue dipping into your honeyed cunt for more as the tip of his pert, button nose nudges against your clit.
“g-gojo!” you gasp out, your head falling back onto the pillows and back arching up helplessly as he uses hot, calculated sweeps of his tongue to stroke against you perfectly, slippery drool stringing sloppily between your legs.
“please..” he grunts, sucking your sensitive, twitchy bundle of nerves into his mouth before releasing with a sticky pop! “call me satoru.”
“satoru.. fuck!” you moan softly, body desperately curving up as you grind against his face for more friction which he lets out a pleased groan at, hands coming to your hips to rock you back and forth, suffocating himself in your warmth.
he quickly throws your legs over his broad shoulders, his head shaking side to side as he sticks out his tongue, gathering all of your honeyed slick with eagerness while you can only writhe and cling onto the snowy locks of his tousled hair tightly, tossing your head back with every loud moan he draws out of you.
it's only when you glance down that you notice the way his hips are desperately rutting against the creaking mattress, humping his throbbing, raging boner into the cushy bed for some form of relief as he eats you out vigorously, parting your sappy folds with his lengthy, dextrous tongue.
“castle gets lonely..” he mumbles into your pussy, the vibrations rocketing up your spine and causing a whine to get stuck in your throat as your stomach knots achingly tighter, the tang of your release on your tongue. “so m’so glad you decided to stop by..”
your eyes glassily cross, barely able to think or hear what he’s saying above the roar of blood crashing in your ears and your heavy breathing, hips twitching up into his mouth and thighs trembling as your stomach aches with the intensity of it all.
and then his whole mouth is covering your core, hot strings of spit mingling with your own sultry mess to streak down your thighs obscenely, and the stimulation turns out to be too much, as all at once your vision turns spotty and you're cumming hard, saturated shimmery squirt just gushing out of you as your body turns into a trembling, whining mess beneath him, sensitivity making your thighs clamp hard around his head.
and as he laps up every drop of your candied cunt, lips glossy and splotches of your sticky wetness pooling across his face, you can only shudder as he continues to suck and slurp at you, until you're desperately pushing him away, the tingling of overstimulation starting to settle over you in pulsing waves.
he sits back, out of breath and you see the slippery sheen of your essence dripping off his glistening chin in droplets, as he eyes you hungrily, like he hasn't had enough until he devours you whole.
he slowly makes his way back up to your face, your back hitting the plush mattress with a thump! as he pins you down, head lazing in a downward angle to draw your attention to the achingly painful, twitching bulge in his pants, sexy half-lidded blue eyes opening just wide enough for you to lock eye-contact.
blue? why did that remind you of someone..
but all of your thoughts are lost the second he's sliiiding his pants down and revealing the neatly trimmed, tufted white happy trail leading all the way to a massive, blushing pink cock, veiny and girthy with milky precum frosting out his tip so prettily.
his lip catches between his teeth as he wraps around himself with one hand, and begins to pull upward in rough-paced tugs, as his head lolls back, more stringy precum coming to gloss over his thickened mushroom head.
"you just gonna watch, or are ya gonna help me out here, doll?" he huskily drawls out, shuddering as you immediately spring to action, coming to straddle his lap in one fluid movement, desperately aligning yourself flush with his heavy cock and sinking down just on the chubbed, rounded tip with a grimace at how enormously big he was.
he makes a gruff noise, leaning back as he helps you to slowly work your way down onto his length, taking every thumping! veiny inch of him to meld into your hot, clenching walls, jaw falling slack at the pure effort it is just to fit him halfway.
"oh g-god, sweetheart.." he chokes out and you feel him pulsating and twitching faintly inside you as if he's fighting back the urge to cum right then and there, his hair flopping into his eyes as he rocks forward slightly.
and then, one thick finger is finding itself on your clit, gliding across the wetness just pouring out of you in sultry sheens as he guides you to take him, and almost instantly, your cunt greedily swallows him to the hilt, a faint bulge outlining his cock stretching all the way up past your belly button generously.
"good.. hah.. girl, taking me so well." he breathes out, and then his jittery lap is already bouncing you slowly, unable to wait another second as you feel his hefty length tracing sweltering hot strokes deep inside you, rolling his hips upward as he pants feverishly, a hand draping its way around your waist and pulling you closer.
drool pours down the side of your mouth helplessly as he moves you up and down on him, your pussy so stuffed and overspilling, it's almost obscene, though he seems to like it, cooing soft praises to you in encouragement.
"i betcha like this, yeah?" quickly grabbing ahold of your hips to get a better angle, he begins hitting into the cushy, soft spot of yours that always makes your legs weaken, smearing gooey precum from his bludgeony tip into you roughly, while the squelching between your legs grows louder, and more lewd with every thrust, the plap plap plap! of your sticky thighs ricocheting off his echoing throughout the vast castle.
he jolts his swollen head allll the way into your cervix, jackhammering with an urgency that leaves your mouth agape and tongue lolling as you feel your abdominals tighten, a familiar tautness creeping its way into your mind.
your pussy flutters around his length as his thrusts grow sloppy, and uncalculated, soft hair tickling you as he leans closer, his musky cinnamon-y scent infiltrating your every sense. "m' s'close my girl, i n-never.. hah.. thought this day would come." he shudders under your touch as you pause, bringing his face closer to truly examine it for the first time that night.
"wait- satoru?" and then, all the pieces come clicking together.
the magical man who had flown and twirled you around in the air was nothing other than the satoru gojo, owner of the infamous moving castle and the most powerful wizard of all time.
and it's then that he cums, spurting heaps n' heaps of creamy bucketloads of ribbony white. so much of it is pouring out, in fact, you swear your tummy swells up with it all, beginning to drip down your thighs in messy rivulets as gojo groans, unable to stop emptying himself heftily inside you.
your release follows just seconds later, as you soak his abdominals in your honeyed essence, slippery sheens coating him generously as he moans softly, still huffing from the effects of his own climax.
as you both come to, stars still blinking hazily behind your vision, you turn to him urgently. "g-gojo, the real reason i came here was 'cause.."
but he quickly shushes you, placing a finger on your pouty lips with a smirk curving up his features. "shh, baby i know, i know. you got a curse on ya, hm?"
you pause, taken aback. "how did you-"
he shakes his head. "in all truth, i was the one who sent her. i wanted to see you." he shifts himself to lean over you, bending your knees up to poke into your soft tits, grinning lazily down at you as he folds you into a mean, mating press. "and sweetheart, even if that love curse was real.. let's just say i already broke it, heh."
thank you for your request!! i hope this is what you were looking for! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
living with howl, you've come to learn that he will always have an abundance of stuff. whether that be various perfumes, jewelry, magic items, or trinkets from his journeys, every cabinet is stuffed full and every room overfilled with things.
one thing in particular that you are really grateful he has lots of is clothes.
you often raid his closet for things to wear, since he just has so much and it saves you the hassle of doing laundry all the time. howl never objected to the idea, he always complimented how beautiful you looked wearing his clothes, and sometimes he would even dress you up in the mornings in various exquisite garments.
you never really realized how much he liked it though, until one morning. you had woken up before him, throwing on one of his oversized white button-ups. it hung loose on your shoulders so you were practically swimming in it, going down to your mid-thighs.
when howl came downstairs, yawning and complaining, something about early mornings and wishing he could sleep in for longer, he freezes when he sees you.
“gods, darling. you look… stunning.”
you were in the middle of cooking breakfast blushing at his compliment, but it was interrupted as howl swiftly scooped you up and whisked you upstairs, placing you back in bed. his lips were on yours before you could say anything, muffling your protests about breakfast and burning the kitchen down.
by the time his lips moved down to your jawline, you were fresh out of things to say, soft gasps and whimpers leaving your swollen lips as his own traced down your neck and across your collarbone. yanking you to the edge of the bed, howl flips you on your stomach, flipping up the bottom of his shirt that's covering your ass, his hands insistent as they tug down your panties and toss them to the side.
“you have no idea what you do to me, always looking so pretty in my clothes~.”
a pathetic whimper slips from your lips when his tip nudges at your slick, and he lets out a low groan as he sinks into your heat, your walls fluttering around him. he fucks you gently into the mattress, his hands sliding under his shirt you're still wearing to caress your tits as he pulls you against him, his index fingers flicking your nipples teasingly.
you're making a mess all over him, and howl definitely comments on it, one of his hands moving down to rub your clit as you come undone while he fucks you, whispering sweet nothings to you as you cum, his lips pressing against your shoulder. he'll cum deep inside you, biting softly against your shoulder - enough to leave a mark - before putting your panties back on (making sure his cum stays inside) and patting your ass with a half-smile playing on his lips.
“sorry to interrupt your cooking, my love. shall we head back down?”
"Can't, or won't?" She questioned stubbornly, turning on her other side so she couldn't see him. "I don't think you love me anymore."
He blew an amused huff out of his nose before rounding their shared bed to look at her.
"If I didn't love you then I wouldn't put up with how pouty you get when you're sick." He cooed at her. "If I didn't love you then I wouldn't keep Markl from interrupting your naps, or make sure Calcifer saves breakfast for you when you can't walk down the stairs to get it yourself."
He lovingly stroked her hair, brushing it away from her sweaty forehead before planting a kiss on it, making her face pucker.
"Don't do that, you're gonna get sick." She fussed, trying to gently push him away from the bed and yet failing miserably.
"Never stopped me before." He hummed, this time leaving one on her cheek.
"Howl, stop. I mean it."
Disregarding her concern entirely he continued to kiss her cheeks, slowly drawing giggles from her.
"There she is," he smiled, "there's my sweet little wife."
She scrunched her face back up, pretending to be upset again. "You're unbelievable. You don't get to complain about it when you get sick too, you know I tried to warn you."
He grinned at her lovingly, this time kissing her on her lips.
"How could I ever complain about being sick when my pretty wife is the best nurse ever?"
— When Howl finds out that Markl has a favorite shopkeeper, he isn't expecting to meet you. You're given the chance to choose between Howl or the bright blue skies, and you learn something about Howl and Markl too.
— minor spoilers, characterizations inspired by the movie, fluff, brief angst, r is cursed, Howl is dramatic and clingy. 3.8k+ words.
— A/N: First time writing for Howl, so apologies if he's OOC! I love him so much...
The bell over the door chimes three times as you pluck a thorn from the side of your palm. When you glance up, you can’t see any customers over the row of mismatched glass jars by the front window.
“Wolfsbane?” someone murmurs.
Smiling, you walk around your heavy oak worktable, running a finger along a deep scar that spans the length of the table. It’s been there for years, a constant in your everchanging shop.
“Is that my favorite customer?” you inquire.
The flooring beneath the shelves of goods is different, a lighter wood that allows you to track footsteps no matter where you are in the building. It’s a stark contrast to the leather rugs scattered throughout the spaces you work in. As you pass a row of minerals and stones, your first and likely only customer of the day giggles.
“No, it can’t be,” you sigh, twisting a bowl of corks on the top shelf. “Markl would never come in without saying hello.”
You see his hair first, a blur of red haloed by the green of his vest as he rushes toward you. He drops his basket and throws his arms around your legs, hugging you tightly.
“Hello,” you greet softly, bending to pat his shoulder. “What are we searching for today, young wizard?”
“Master Howl gave me a long list,” he complains. He lifts his hands, counting on his fingers as he recites, “Wolfsbane, rose petals, marbles, cedar bark, and…” He drops his voice – in imitation of Howl, you assume – and adds, “The thorn dipped in blood.”
“Quite a list,” you muse. “Did your master tell you what it was for?”
“He doesn’t tell me anything,” Markl reminds you, shaking his head slowly. “He treats me like a child.”
“How dare he?”
Markl smiles up at you as he retrieves his basket. He holds it under a shelf and slides an entire stack of cedar bark inside.
“I think we can do better than off-the-shelf goods,” you remind him. “Follow me.”
“Yes!” he hisses excitedly, abandoning his basket again to rush past you, lingering at the edge of the wooden floor.
When you wave your hand, he steps in freely, shivering as the air moves, sealing the invisible separation behind him.
“Calcifer said cedar is good kindling but a terrible fuel source,” Markl tells you. “So I don’t think Master Howl is planning any fire spells.”
“Well, the marbles are certainly confusing,” you murmur. “But let’s see what we can find.”
You lead Markl to an empty shelf in the back corner of your workspace. When you reach over it, feeling along the seam against the wall, you find a long strip of dry cedar bark.
“Will this do?” you ask Markl.
“It’s perfect!” he agrees, setting it aside. “Hey, can that shelf thingy make food? I’m starving!”
“The shelf doesn’t cook,” you answer sadly. “But I do. There’s food on the stove.”
“What stove?” Markl inquires, looking around.
“Third door on the right, down the stairs, and past the bins.”
“What’s in the bins?”
“Don’t ask questions, Markl,” you remind him.
“Right, sorry.” He scampers away, his excited gasps returning to you as he makes his way through your space.
While he’s gone, you gather fine marbles, fresh rose petals, and a twine-wrapped bunch of wolfsbane. You set it in Markl’s basket, then lean your elbows against your worktable.
“The thorn dipped in blood,” you whisper to yourself.
“Thanks,” Markl says, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “What next?”
“What kind of thorn?” you inquire. “Flower? Tree?”
“He didn’t say. Just the thorn dipped in blood.”
Humming, you dance your fingers along the table. There’s a thorn that actually has your blood on it tossed aside, but that’s not what Howl means. He’s magnificent, from what you’ve heard. There has to be more to his request.
“Markl, shall we find a blood rose?” you suggest.
“Sure,” he agrees easily. “What’s that?”
You flip a switch beside your table to lock the front door. Then, you lead Markl out into the courtyard. The ivy has taken over the stone wall, making your courtyard look more like a forgotten fortress than a garden.
“Whoa!” Markl exclaims, skipping toward a swing hanging from the tree at the center of the courtyard.
“I think he needs a thorn from a blood rose,” you explain, stepping carefully around a berry bush. “Markl, don’t eat anything.”
He pauses with his hand halfway to his mouth. His fingers open and three red plants fall to the ground silently. “I wasn’t gonna,” he lies weakly.
“Good,” you say with a laugh. “I found them.”
Markl nearly runs into you, looking over your shoulder at the singular rose.
“The blood rose is… finicky,” you tell him, carefully lifting the stem in search of a thorn. “Sometimes, it’s a full bush that feels prickly just looking at it. Other times, it’s nothing but a stump in the ground.”
“Do you water it?” Markl asks, his head tilted toward his shoulder.
“Sometimes. Doesn’t seem to matter.”
He hums, leaning forward as you pull a thorn from the stem. It seems to vibrate against your fingers, but Markl doesn’t notice anything unusual as he opens the satchel on his belt and drops the thorn in.
“Was that all you needed, sir?” you check.
You wipe your hands on your apron as you stand, then follow Markl back into the shop. He lifts his basket, pays you, hugs you once more, then leaves. You’re never sure when Markl will be back, but you open the shop each morning with the hope of seeing him. His master has yet to accompany him. Each time you hear of Howl, or see his castle moving in the fog, you wonder. Not about the myths the townsfolk believe, but about the powerful man who entrusts Markl to do his shopping and sends him enough coins to buy something for himself, too, even knowing that he won’t.
“Back to work,” you hum, touching the scarred wood before you open a pack of rose bush seeds.
A passing train rattles the jars on the shelves by the window, but your workspace remains steady. Howl probably could have made this store even better.
Howl’s hands are spread on the table, his blue eyes intensely focused as he looks at the items Markl brought from your store. Markl paces behind him, twisting his fingers together as he looks at Calcifer, then back to Howl.
“I thought it was a rather simple list, Markl,” Howl hums.
Howl chuckles, then straightens and turns toward Markl. “No apologies necessary, Markl. Perhaps I should have been clearer.”
“Is it the cedar bark? There were smaller pieces but that one looked better,” Markl explains, speaking rapidly and moving his hands simultaneously.
“The thorn dipped in blood isn’t a blood rose thorn,” Howl explains. He steps forward and lowers to one knee, holding Markl’s shoulder as he smiles. “It’s a blood diamond fragment, often splintered to look like a thorn.”
Markl nods along with the explanation, then blinks and asks, “Why?”
“It’s useful when placing new spells, or breaking old ones.”
“I’ll go back into town,” Markl offers.
“No, no, it’s too late,” Howl replies. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
“We?”
Howl stands, sighs, then asks Calcifer, “Why do you two act as if I never go anywhere?”
“Because you never go anywhere normal people go,” Calcifer answers bluntly. “You go fight foolish wizards who turn themselves into monsters.”
“Fair enough,” Howl concedes. “Markl, may I accompany you to the shop tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Markl agrees.
Howl steps out of the castle and onto the cobblestone street where people know him by a different name. With his hood up, Howl blends into the background of the bustling town. No one looks twice as he walks with Markl, following the boy away from his castle for the first time in too long.
“Markl, how do you find these places?” Howl wonders. “We’ve passed three perfectly good shops.”
“They’re not perfectly good,” Markl argues. “The one closest to our door is overpriced, the second is run by a man who always smells like cheese, and the third doesn’t open until 2 on Thursdays.”
Howl smiles beneath his hood, shaking his head at Markl’s enthusiastic reply. “I thought you liked cheese,” he jokes.
“Ugh,” Markl groans. “This way,” he directs, taking a sharp right into an alley.
They turn twice more, no longer able to see the street when a blank wooden sign appears over a window.
“Markl,” Howl begins.
“I didn’t find it,” Markl says, “it found me.”
Howl’s brows raise, but he doesn’t press the topic. Markl tugs the door open before Howl reaches over his head to allow him to enter. It’s a quaint shop, with three rows of short shelves, a wall lined with unorganized jars and crates, and three small photos hanging above the door. It smells like cloves, Howl notices as he removes his hood. When he looks toward the shelves again, his blue eyes widen, and his hand shoots out to grasp the back of Markl’s cloak.
Markl gasps as Howl bends forward until he meets his young friend’s gaze.
“You and I are going to have a talk when we get home,” Howl mutters.
Markl tugs against Howl’s grip but doesn’t get far. “About what?” he shrieks.
A throat clears on the other side of the shelf, and Howl stands too quickly, pulling Markl off balance. With a hand steadying Markl, Howl shakes his head to fix his hair, then smiles.
“Hi,” he greets.
“Hello,” you offer, lifting a hand in greeting. “Howl, I presume.”
Markl looks back, and when he sees that Howl has released him, he runs. He collides with your legs, laughing when you hug him.
“Thank you,” Howl says, drawing your attention away from Markl. “For helping Markl and getting what we need.”
“Of course.” You shift backward then ask, “Are you just here to say thank you?”
“Actually, I need a blood diamond fragment.”
“Oh,” you sigh, dropping your head toward your shoulder before you nod.
Howl’s hand stretches at his side, inexplicably desperate to round the shelf and hug you as Markl had.
“My apologies,” you offer. “I’ve only ever heard it referred to as the all-cutting thorn.”
“Why does it have so many names?” Markl groans. “Ooh!”
He leaves your side, clutching the edge of a shelf as he rises to his tiptoes to look at your newest arrivals.
“Come with me,” you invite.
Howl doesn’t have to be told twice, moving immediately. He walks behind you, unsurprised to find that the space is bigger than it first appeared.
“Quite the enchantment you have here,” he muses, looking through the cloaking spell to see Markl.
“Wish I could take credit for it,” you muse, tapping your chin as you look at your crates. “The guy who owned this place before me set it all up, I don’t have power of my own.”
When you locate the box you need, Howl lays his hand on your waist and gently guides you away from it. With a murmured offer of assistance, he lifts it effortlessly and sets it on your worktable.
“Thank you,” you reply softly. “I don’t have a, uh, what did you call it?”
“Thorn dipped in blood,” Howl reminds you. “I understand.”
“No, I can get you one. It will just take a minute.”
Howl smiles, his hair framing his face as he tips his head. “What exactly do you do?”
You match his smile and answer, “I’m a shopkeeper.”
Markl rushes through the store, holding a metal plane above his head.
“Markl’s great,” you tell Howl.
“He has his moments,” Howl agrees. “He told me that the store found him.”
You hum as you remove items from the crate one at a time. “I’m told it has that power.”
“A lot of power for just a shopkeeper.”
“Aha!” you exclaim, setting a small pouch on the table. “These blood diamonds should work.”
“You have a way to fracture diamonds?” Howl questions, leaning closer to you.
You turn to see him, then pause when you realize how close you are. Your breath mingles between you, Howl’s eyes dropping quickly to your lips. He makes no effort to conceal where his gaze strays. It’s refreshing.
“Not exactly,” you murmur before you look at the table again.
You drop a single diamond into the deep rut along the side of the table. You close your eyes long enough to imagine the thorn-shaped sliver Howl needs. When you look at the table again, the scar is gone.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Howl accuses, lingering at your side. His warmth spreads across you, more comfortable than even your thickest jacket.
Silently, you nod. The jagged line in the table reappears, slithering like a snake until it’s as if it had never disappeared.
You use a small set of tweezers to extract the diamond, then drop it into Howl’s palm.
“Thank you,” he says. “I suppose I should also pay you for that plane Markl has commandeered.”
“Consider it a gift,” you reply. “For messing up the first time you asked for the diamond.”
“I couldn’t.”
You smile and counter, “I think you will.”
Howl scoffs, then steps toward the store and murmurs, “You said you didn’t have power. Markl! Time to go.”
Markl pauses, his plane in the midst of a heroic nosedive. “Oh,” he sighs. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you next time,” you promise when he hugs you.
Howl pauses in the doorway, his eyes on you.
“Nice to meet you, Howl,” you say. “Come back anytime.”
He glances around again, then nods. “I will,” he promises. And, for some reason, you believe him.
Markl slides across the floor after he runs inside, turning his head left and right as he seeks somewhere to hide. It’s Howl’s house; he knows he can’t outrun him forever, but maybe he can save himself for a while.
“Whoa, kid!” Calcifer exclaims. “Don’t scuff the floor, I can’t move the wood again right now.”
“Master Howl’s going to kill me!” Markl wails, bouncing in place as his eyes move rapidly. “Calcifer, help me!”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Howl promises after he closes the door.
“You said we had to talk, and I know what that means!”
Howl laughs. He clears a spot on the table, then sets the diamond on the wood.
“I just wanted to know why you didn’t tell me about your shopkeeper friend,” he offers.
“Oh, oh,” Calcifer calls. “Howl.”
“Enough out of you,” Howl replies.
“What?” Markl asks. “Howl what?”
“He has a crush on your friend,” Calcifer explains.
“You do?!”
“Help me with this,” Howl requests. “Tell me something, Markl, did you notice anything about the shop?”
“The magic? Sure.”
“Not the magic. The evil keeping it contained.”
Markl stands directly beside Howl, so close that Howl’s elbow bumps him every time he moves. Yet, Howl doesn’t ask for space. The diamond was supposed to be for a spell to influence perceptions, to trip people's thoughts like marbles beneath their feet. Instead, he’s decided to experiment with a concoction of his own, a plan to break a curse.
Your shop remains empty for three days. No one wanders in, no one stops by to check on their orders, it’s just you. It gives you plenty of time to think about Howl. He was different than you expected. Now you wish to see him again.
Tracing a set of runes to get your mind off Howl, you nearly miss the bell ringing over the door. It only rings once, so you know it’s not Markl.
“Welcome,” you call as you escape your workspace. “Oh. Hi.”
Howl smiles as he dips his chin in greeting. “Hi.”
“You came back.”
“I told you I would, sweetheart.”
“What can I get for you today?” you ask.
“When’s the last time you left the shop?”
It sounds like a line, like it carries more than a simple question, but before you can consider why he’s asking, you realize that you don’t know the answer.
“I… I don’t...” you murmur.
“You can’t remember?” Howl knows. “You said you got the shop from someone else. Whoever that was enchanted the shop. You can come and go, hide from customers, keep your work private and protected. But there’s more. Something is keeping you here, separating you from the outside world.”
“But, why?” you inquire. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I’d wager that whoever put the curse on the building didn’t know you were here.”
You nod, trusting him but unsure of what this means.
“I can break the curse,” Howl adds. “It won’t be easy, but I can do it.”
“H- how?”
Howl walks around the shelves and takes your hands. “I need something you care about, a physical possession that I can take outside and use to sever the link between this place and your heart.”
“My heart,” you repeat.
“Don’t tell me you believe the myths,” he pleads softly. He smiles, but he can’t hide the fear in his gaze, the concern that you might believe what people say about him.
“You’re magnificent,” you answer. “Why would someone with your power eat hearts?”
Howl smiles and leans forward, his arm brushing yours as he pinches the fabric of your apron. “May I?”
You nod and lift your arms. His touch is warm. He wraps his arms around your waist, then pulls the knot at your back, loosening the apron with a single movement. When he straightens, he tugs the fabric away from you, clutching it in one hand as he holds your waist with the other.
“You may feel something, a sense of sadness or a pang in your chest,” Howl warns. “It will be over quickly.”
He turns toward the door, so you reach out and catch his arm before he goes. When he meets your eyes, you smile and thank him.
“Thank me when you can go outside,” he replies.
You stand at the window, watching as Howl spreads your apron carefully. He pulls something out of his pocket, the shine of the diamond drawing your attention upward. His mouth moves as he uses the point of the diamond fragment to poke a hole in your apron, but the sudden tightness in your chest makes it impossible to read his lips.
As promised, it fades quickly. Howl slides his device back into his pocket, then folds your apron and opens the shop door. You linger in the doorway, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
Howl offers his hand, and it’s an easy decision to reach out and place your palm in his. Carefully, you step over the threshold with one foot, then the other. Standing in the alley with Howl’s hand around yours, you get a sense of clarity that you’d forgotten after too many nights spent buried in the web of catacombs beneath the store, lonely and lost.
“I… You did it,” you breathe out. You squeeze Howl’s hand as you look down the alley, smiling as you step closer to him. “Thank you!”
He wraps his arm around your waist when you hug him, holding you close as he chuckles.
“Howl,” you whisper against his shoulder. “Howl.”
“You’re free,” he reminds you, pushing you back gently.
“I remember that I didn’t want to be a shopkeeper,” you tell him, still holding his hand. “I got hired to organize the shelves and then I was just there.”
“And now you can go anywhere.”
Howl’s smile shifts, his eyes sad as he watches you.
“Anywhere?” you repeat.
Howl nods before you throw your arms around him again, thanking him before you step back, pulling your fingers from his. You wish him well, then disappear down the alley. Howl reaches out for your apron, then decides it might be easier if he tries to forget you.
“Whoa, you look terrible,” Calcifer says when Howl returns, dragging his feet with his back hunched.
“Thanks, Calcifer,” Howl hums before he collapses into the chair by the hearth.
“Markl said not to wait up for him,” Calcifer adds. “Hey, Howl, are you- are you okay?”
“Great,” he replies, slinking toward the floor.
“Howl!” Markl yells, throwing the door open.
“Not now, Markl,” Howl grumbles, falling to the floor with a sigh. “I just… Not now.”
“I see where you get the dramatics, Markl,” someone murmurs softly.
Howl lifts his head, his eyes wide when he sees you at Markl’s side. “Are you real?” he questions, pushing up onto his elbows.
“I hope so,” you reply with a smile.
“But you- you left,” Howl reminds you.
“To get Markl something.”
“Yeah, see?!” Markl asks, thrusting a metal helicopter toy toward Howl. “It goes with the plane!”
Howl pushes himself up, stepping toward you cautiously, like he thinks you’ll disappear.
“You didn’t think I’d just leave, did you?” you ask as Markl races inside with his new toy. “After everything you did for me?”
“You could go anywhere,” Howl reminds you. “See the brightest, bluest sky, or make a life on the other side of the world.”
“I could,” you agree, stepping forward until you’re only inches from Howl. “But there’s a lot to see here, a whole life I would have never experienced without you.”
“What are you saying?” Howl asks, his hands ghosting over your waist.
“Oh, come on,” Calcifer groans. “Don’t make her spell it out, Howl, I can’t take it.”
You laugh at his complaint, but silence when Howl tugs you against his chest. His hands feel like home against you, and when he tilts his chin toward you, you know you made the right choice.
“Master Howl!” Markl calls. He slides to a stop and looks back and forth between you and Howl, his eyes narrowing. “Does this mean you’re staying?” he asks you.
“Yeah,” Howl murmurs against your temple. “Does this mean you’re staying?”
You reach out to hold Howl’s jaw, nodding as you agree, “I’d like to stay.”
You’re not sure who cheers louder: Howl, Markl, or Calcifer. They all make this place home, and no matter where the castle moves or what happens next, it’s your decision to be at home here. That makes falling in love so much easier.
“Bright, blue skies,” you muse when Markl takes his celebration somewhere else.
“What about them?” Howl asks, punctuated by a series of kisses from your temple to your jaw.
Carefully, you cradle his face and meet his eyes. “Your eyes look like the sky,” you whisper.
Howl smiles, moving one hand to the back of your head to pull you in. Calcifer makes a noise of disgust that does nothing to discourage Howl.
“Get used to it, Calcifer,” Howl grumbles. “And move us to the-”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Sheesh, you gonna talk to her like that?”
“He already does,” Markl interjects, despite it being past his bedtime. “Apparently that’s why I’m dramatic, too.”
warnings: fucking half-transformed howl, aggressive sex, reader is written as gender-neutral, biting, scratching, etc.
author’s note: i didn’t mean for the title of this imagine/hc list to be a pun bc i was referencing the weeknd song…but here we are. but guys pls cut me some slack—it’s been forever since i wrote headcanons ahh 😫
nsfw hcs:
• despite his feathers being softer on the inside and very warm, they were incredibly heavy which made it incredibly hard for you to move.
• you’ll have to go multiple rounds (which will cause his voice to become progressively more raspy as time goes on). chances are that he won’t last long given his state but he makes up for it with endurance!
• he’s not all that noisy when it comes to having sex with you, he will grunt lowly though and let out the occasional whimper but if you ask something of him— like for him to degrade and/or praise you— then howl’s more than happy to oblige! 💗
• his favorite parts of you, or at least in the moment, is your neck and thighs. of course, given the form he’s in, no matter what position you’re in, you are bound to be left with lots of scratches & bites around you with how aggressive he is but at the end of it, he will kiss you and tell you that you did such a great job, things of that nature.
• and before before anyone asks, yes, howl does go through heat (“but that doesn’t make sense—“ LET ME HAVE MY FUN 😭)
— anyway, good luck, soldier when the time comes because you’re gonna be unable to walk for days with how pent up and desperate he becomes.
aftercare:
• poor boy feels bad afterward because of aggressively he fucked you when he was half-transformed.
— expect him to apologize profusely, but he doesn’t need to. it’s not like you said you didn’t like it 😭
• howl is a big sucker for aftercare, it’s his way of making it up to you. he will get tired after he finishes but he tries to stay up a little longer to take care of you… well, after he’s reverted to his regular self.
• he will give you lots of kisses, softer ones that he will plant all over your face. also, howl loves your smell and will often nuzzle his nose and cheeks on the back of your neck and wrists anywhere he can afterward.
• howl could and would help you bathe, there would even be times when he’d join you as well just to spend more time with you/to help you wind down and get ready for bed.
✧˖°. Summary: You were sky drifting where you shouldn’t have been, with magic you barely understood—until everything changed, and you fell. Through clouds, and a stranger’s laundry line… and straight into the company of a wizard with stars in his eyes.
✧˖°. Word Count: 1.3k
✧˖°. Author's Note: Finally watched Howl's Moving Castle for the first time this weekend and I am absolutely in LOVE! I've gathered that this movie was adapted from a book, but this fic is purely based on my knowledge of the movie (to be fair, I've watched it four times over in two days). I love you mis pan dulcitos ₍^. .^₎⟆
The sound of propellers interrupts your afternoon nap. Sunlight beams down on your skin—warm and inviting—making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open as you squint into the distance.
“Do you see that, Sisial? Over there, near Kingsbury.”
The cloud spirit you befriended last week rumbles beneath you, like an old woman clearing her throat. “If you’re just trying to trick me again, I’m not looking,” Sisial mutters.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes catching a glint of metal. Three military aircrafts have been deployed from the capital–grey, hawklike, and ugly against the soft blue sky.
“No, no. This isn’t like the rainbow thing,” you promise, but it’s no use. The stubborn spirit doesn’t even budge.
“It’s the royal air ships,” your voice comes out softly. “They’re sending more.”
“Make an awful mess of the sky, if you ask me.” Sisial exhales a puff of wind, more sigh than breeze. “Bit like you, ever since you started fiddling with that wind magic and crashed into my life.”
You roll onto your side. “Oh, hush. No one asked what you thought.”
“They should. I’ve been carrying brats like you since before your bones knew what life was..”
A faint smile pulls at the corner of your lips as you fall quiet, your gaze trailing the ships’ path.
“…You think it’s really starting?” you ask after a moment. Sisial doesn’t answer right away. The wind shifts—cooler, tighter. Then, in a low grumble, “Wars never really stop. Just the way these things go.”
The air ship’s engines thunder closer now, close enough to rattle your ribs. You sit up straighter. “They’re coming this way.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Sisial grunts. But they do.
The three metal beasts roar overhead, slicing through the sky like blade through silk. They’re deafening, churning the clouds surrounding you into a panic. You grab fistfuls of vapor, trying desperately to hang on, but Sisial’s form shifts, growing thinner beneath you.
“They’re too close, Sisial!”
She hisses as she struggles to gain stability, throwing your body between cloud puffs in the process. “Stupid boys and their stupid machines–”
Her voice evaporates into mist, and you realize she’s gone.
“Sisiaaaal!”
The air is stolen from your lungs as the sky yanks itself out from under you. Wind roars in your ears as your limbs flail helplessly. For a dizzy, terrifying moment, all you can think about is that you don’t recall where Sisial was flying over: a lake, Porthaven… the Waste.
Whump.
Fabric grazes your cheek like a lick of fire–white, sun warmed, and stretched taut. A sheet. Another. Then an entire row of laundry snaps around you, catching at your arms and legs. A ruffled button down tangles around your head before you crash through one last quilted blanket.
You tumble onto a narrow iron balcony with a final thud—winded, dizzy, and absolutely stunned. For a moment, you just lay there, staring up at the sky you fell from. The scent of lavender soap and fresh air drifts around you, coaxing your body to relax—until the ground beneath you moves.
A deep, steady vibration hums through the floor, like a train engine rumbling through stone. Blinking through the daze, you take in your surroundings. The balcony juts out from the side of a sprawling, elaborate house—but not a normal one. This house moves–its walls hidden by clouds, its walls creaking with age and strange magic. Laundry lines crisscross the railing, a kettle whistles somewhere inside, and smoke puffs from a crooked chimney.
You’ve landed on a walking castle.
“Bit dramatic for a landing, but I suppose I’m in no position to judge.”
You jolt upright, heart thudding. In front of you, seated comfortably at a wrought iron table, is a young gentleman. Golden hair curls in soft waves around his decorated ears, and his shirt looks too white to be a common townsperson such as yourself. He holds a porcelain teacup between two elegant fingers, barely looking at you.
His expression is politely bored–like he sees oddities like this all of the time. But judging by this moving castle of a home, he probably does.
“Who–who are you?” you manage, scrambling to your feet and running your fingers through your hair self consciously. The gentle curl of his smile makes you wonder if he’s witnessed the whole ordeal.
He glances at the linen shirt still draped over your shoulder. “You fall from the sky onto my balcony,steal my favorite shirt, interrupt tea time, and you want answers?”
The man’s eyes pierce through you, sharp and curious behind his amused expression. “At least you’ve made yourself at home.”
Your cheeks heat as you blink at him. “No, I–I didn’t mean to! You see, I didn’t know where I was falling. I mean–this wasn’t–”
He sets his teacup down and gives a low, theatrical bow.
“Howl Pendragon–wizard, and owner of this fine castle. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
You freeze. Everyone’s heard of Howl and his moving castle–it's almost all girls your age talk about. “Wait… you’re Howl?”
“In the living flesh.” He gives a faint shrug, as if the name means nothing to him. “Though I’ve heard I’m taller in the stories–and sometimes less charming.”
Dread settles deep in your belly, and you step back instinctively. “Everyone says you eat the hearts of girls. Is that true?”
“Ah, well.” Howl glances towards the open sky. “That would be the less charming bit of those tall tales.”
You don’t quite know how to respond to that, so you tug absently at the hem of your dress, eyes searching anywhere but his. After a subtle beat, he gestures lazily to the chair across from him.
“Sit, if you can manage it without destroying the rest of my wardrobe. Tea?”
His voice sounds almost detached, but not quite unkind. You hesitate, still catching your breath, and still unsure if you’ve actually survived or if floating castles are just part of the after life.
“…Okay.”
You sit down carefully, arms crossed tight around yourself. The porcelain teacup feels warm when he hands it over–it smells faintly of rosehips and honey.
Howl watches you quietly for a moment. The wind tugs gently at the sheets behind you. Quiet settles amongst you, but it feels serene rather than uncomfortable.
“You’re not from around here,” he says eventually.
“I’m not from anywhere in particular,” you reply. “I was sky drifting with a cloud spirit. Sisial.”
“Ah, her.” His eyes twinkle with recognition. “Grumpy old thing. Smells like sea salt. She always accuses me of redirecting the winds, you know.”
“She got snuffed out by the airships,” you explain quietly, your voice gentler than before. “They flew too close. Too fast.”
The words linger in the space between you, soft but heavy. You try to keep your tone neutral, but something flickers behind it—worry. You’ve grown so fond of Sisial, and you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.
Howl’s expression shifts into something gentler, more knowing. “Ah, don’t worry about her,” he says, swirling the last of his tea absently. “She’s older than the mountains and twice as stubborn. That one’s survived lightning storms and falling stars. A little accident like that won’t keep her down.”
You exhale, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. When you finally look at Howl, really look, something about him knocks the air out of you all over again.
He’s beautiful, yes—but not in any way that feels safe. There’s something untouchable about him, something unreal. Like trying to hold moonlight in your hands. But beneath the charm and ease, his sapphire eyes are clear, focused. There’s a stillness there that makes you think he sees far more than he ever says.
“I really didn’t mean to land here,” you murmur, glancing down at your hands. “I didn’t even know where I was landing.”
Howl tilts his head, a faint, amused glimmer returning to his face. “Well,” he says, voice warm, “I’m rather pleased you did. I was starting to think the wind had forgotten how to deliver anyone interesting.”
I watched the movie, read the book, watched the movie again, and finally finished writing this. Reader is written as gender neutral, but references Howl chasing after girls (and "other girls") multiple times
Edit: went through and corrected any mistakes I saw 😔
Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, hanahaki disease, requited unrequited love, language of flowers, kissing, love confessions, potentially ooc, references to novel, movie setting
Word Count: 6,973
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You let out a shuddering breath as you lower yourself into the chair in front of the hearth. Calcifer watches you.
"It's only going to get worse, you know," he mutters lowly. Everyone else is asleep. Sophie is only a few feet away, in her alcove under the stairs.
You reach out your hand. Calcifer holds flaming arms out to catch the petals that fall. One by one, burned up in his flame. You lower your hand back to your lap, staring at your palm. Blood stains your skin. Spattered on from the coughs that wracked your body.
The amount of petals grows by the day. And with each day, the more drained you feel. You don't know how much longer you can assure Markl you just haven't been sleeping well.
"You look terrible." You rub your eyes with your clean hand. "You have to tell him sooner or later."
"I can't," you deny immediately. You share a forlorn look with the demon. "You know what Howl is like."
You don't need to explain further. He's such a fickle wizard. Chasing other women, single-minded in his efforts to have them fall in love with him, only to abandon them right after without thought for the consequences - or rather, to escape the consequences. He'd never looked at you that way. Never prettied himself up with potions and magics just to throw himself at your feet in the most appealing way. No, never. And he never would. You don't have a heart worth stealing.
You wince. It feels as though a noose is tightening around your lungs. It's only the stems of the flowers, growing rampant in your chest. A curse most foul. The only saving grace you are allowed - and one you will never act upon - is that you can freely discuss the spell that ails you. And yet, only Calcifer knows.
You take slow, deep breaths. Long and drawn out, in hopes they can dislodge the tightest stalks. It brings little comfort.
"You'll die," Calcifer says grimly.
You sigh, pressing a hand to your chest. "I know."
"And that's worth it?"
You don't answer.
He watches helplessly as you use the edge of the hearth for support and rise to your feet. You turn from the glow of the fire. Retreat in shuffling steps to the stairs.
"Just take the potion! You don't have to die like this."
"Goodnight, Cal," you murmur tiredly.
He feels when the water in the bathroom runs, only for a moment, to wash away the blood.
-
"Here." A ringed hand sets a chipped cup in front of you, filled with a steaming brown liquid. Golden flecks swirl around the surface, glittering and shimmering in the light. "It's a different spell. Hopefully this enchantment works to ease your coughing."
You swallow down a clump of petals as you force a smile up at Howl. "Thank you."
He smiles in return, blue eyes following your movements as you take a sip of the tea he prepared. Well, the tea Sophie prepared; he just added the spell to it.
He steps away from the table. Away from you. You watch him move over to the workbench, preparing spells with ease for the customers of the day. You turn away when you catch Calcifer's imploring look.
Sophie sits at the table across from you, distracted by the wizard as he mutters to himself. When she looks at you, her eyes soften with concern and worry. She pushes her plate of breakfast toward you. "You should eat something. You look dreadful."
You shake your head and push it back to her. "I'm not hungry, but thank you."
She humphs. "How many times I've heard that from you lately," she mutters with a disapproving frown. It deepens the wrinkles of her face.
"Really, Sophie. I'll be fine." You force a smile her way as well. You're fortunate the pain behind it is easily excused by the bags under your eyes, your pallid complexion, and your worsening cough. It's only because you're sick that your smile is so weak; what other reason could there be?
You push your chair from the table and shakily get to your feet. "I'm going to go lie down," you say.
Howl half-turns from the bench, leaning against it with one hand as the other rests at his hip. "Finish your tea before you fall asleep," he urges. "You'll feel better by the time you wake."
The window behind him casts beautiful Porthaven light against his dark hair. It suits him so well, despite the tantrum it wrought. You cough into your hand, hiding away the petals that come with it.
You take your chipped cup with you. "I will," you promise. "Please, try not to worry about me."
Three sets of eyes follow you as you slowly make your way up the stairs. It's difficult to use the railing with blood in one hand and tea in the other, but you manage. Markl almost bowls you over at the top.
"Sorry!" he cries. He skids to a stop to stare up at you. "Woah, are you sick?"
You deign not to answer him. He's too young; he shouldn't be worrying over you. You just force another smile. "I'll be okay. Go eat breakfast."
He stares a moment longer as you make your way to your room. You can hear him heading downstairs when you go to open the door. You have to open it with your petal-filled hand. You wipe the blood off on your sleeve after, and kick it shut behind you.
Safely hidden behind your bedroom door, you open your palm to look at the blooms.
White daisies peer up at you. Splotches of red steal their delicate beauty away. They're still soft when you run your thumbs over the burst of yellow at their centers, recalling the book you dug through Howl's collection to find.
Daisy: innocence, loyal love, I'll never tell
You toss them into your trash bin and gulp warm tea to remove the coppery taste from your tongue.
-
A knock taps at your door.
"Y/N?"
Another knock.
"I'm coming in!"
There's a pause, before the knob turns and the door creaks open. Sophie peeks in. The room is still clean from when she terrorized it before, save for a couple new cobwebs in the corners, an empty tea cup, and an unmade bed.
She steps inside and closes the door behind her. Her feet shuffle softly over the wood as she comes to your bedside. She gasps in shock.
On your pillow, dripping slowly from your mouth, is blood. A bright red stain that spreads across pure white. You're still sleeping. She can't fathom how, when the coppery scent hits her nose so strongly from where she's standing. She shakes your shoulder, calling your name in a panic.
"Wake up before you choke!" she cries.
You feel so weak when you blink your eyes open. Your chest aches terribly. Breathing is a challenge, a slog you have to wheeze through no matter how painful it is. You cough, at first just a small hiccup, that then grows into a grating, terrible sound. Sophie helps you sit up, rubbing your back as she fusses over what she should do next. You try to cover your mouth, to prevent the familiar climb in your throat from escaping, but you can't keep it down.
You hack, nearly wretch, a bunch of flowers into your hands, then onto the bedsheets. Your body shakes and trembles as you try to breathe again while your airways are clear enough to. Sophie gapes frightfully at the daisies, whole save for a few loose petals, stem and all. "Is this some sort of magical sickness?" she wonders. "Are you going to cough up hedges next?"
You shake your head pitifully. "Don't… Don't tell…" Your throat is so scratchy. Those damn flowers.
"I'll go get you some water," she says hurriedly. She moves quite fast for an old woman as she bustles down the stairs to fetch a glass.
You lay back slowly. Deep breaths. You're almost grateful Howl isn't around to see you like this. That fickle man - he's probably out charming some poor girl.
You sit forward in a rush. Your throat fills with another clump of flowers. You're still coughing them up and spitting them out when Sophie comes back to your side. She rubs your back, wincing at the petals that flutter from your lips, covered in red. "Here, drink this." She cradles the back of your neck and tips the cool water into your mouth. It's so nice and refreshing. Washing away the copper in your mouth, pushing down the last spare petals that didn't make it out. "We should tell Howl."
You sputter on the water, spilling it down your front as you shake your head and clutch at her apron. "No-" cough "No, don't tell him. Don't-" hack "tell him anything!"
"But you're coughing up flowers! And there's blood all over them! Why shouldn't I tell him?"
"Please." You hold tighter to her. You feel so pathetic. So weak and terrible. You hate this, but you hate the idea of the alternatives more. "Please, Sophie, don't tell him. Please!"
She sighs, frowning deep. "Alright, alright! Calm down! I won't tell him!"
You wither back into your pillows when she agrees. For just a little longer, you'll hide this from him. Just a little. You don't know how long that will end up being, but, you think, if you're sick in here all day, that saves you from seeing him. Maybe that will help things from getting worse too quickly.
You doubt it.
"At least let me change your pillows before you go back to sleep," she chides in a huff.
-
"How's Y/N today?" Howl asks as soon as he's dragged himself through the front door. He doesn't look too worse for wear, gratefully, but he still groans as he plops himself down in the chair in front of the hearth.
Calcifer sticks warily out of his pile of logs. "They haven't come down all day," he murmurs.
Howl sits upright with a wince. "Really?"
"Sophie's looking after them," he assures quickly. "They've been coughing all day."
"You know something about it, don't you?"
Calcifer flickers, grabbing another log to avoid looking at Howl's too-intelligent eyes. "I'm not saying anything."
And yet, that tells Howl all too much. "Did they swear you to secrecy? So it's not just a simple cold..." He leans back in the chair again, propping his feet up as he looks to the ceiling. It's quiet right now. Even the wood doesn't creak. You must be sleeping. If it's as bad as Calcifer is making it out to seem, he's glad you're able to find some peace in rest. "This is the same cough from a few months ago, isn't it?"
The fire demon says nothing.
Howl sighs low through his nose. "If you won't tell me anything, I won't know how to help."
"You know I can't say anything. I'm a demon of my word!"
"A gift and a curse, my friend."
It falls quiet once more in the castle, but the thoughts within his head stir and twirl and dance restlessly. They seem to burst when a pathetic cough carries through the floorboards. He stares helplessly, as though searching for your face in the wood grain, as the cough turns harsh and wet, and calms again.
He drops his feet from the stone and stands. He quietly walks past Sophie's alcove and to the stairs.
"Sophie won't like it if you go in there," Calcifer warns seriously. "She got up-in-arms when Markl tried peeking in earlier."
That does make Howl pause. Checking on you meant facing Sophie's wrath if she ever found out. His foot is frozen on the first step…
For you, that seems like a fate worth risking.
Calcifer hisses his warnings behind him as he takes the steps up to the landing. He finds his way in front of your door in no time at all, but then he hesitates once more. He presses his ear to the worn wood, listening intently for any sign you may be awake.
He hears a soft inhale.
A rough exhale.
Repeating in exchange.
But no other sounds.
He slowly turns the knob and cracks open the door.
He can tell Sophie's been through here, given how clean everything is. There's nothing out of place, no dust layered over furniture, no signs of anything amiss aside from the spiders on the ceiling. He feels quietly glad they have been left alone.
He leaves the door open behind him as he steps inside. His eyes find you in the dark. Outside your window, curtains pulled back, the landscape of the Waste shifts steadily by. The bright moon casts its light onto your bed.
It is only for this light he can see the truth of the matter: blood stains your pillow and your hand, petals and crumpled flowers litter the bedding, more cling to your lip, forgotten in your exhaustion.
If his heart was in its proper place, it would have cinched painfully at the sight. Instead, the air is stolen from his lungs by a fear he wishes to run far away from.
He knows of this sickness. In his studies, he'd come across what very little documentation exists of it. It's a powerful curse, not one cast lightly.
He shudders out a breath. "Oh, my friend, who cast this on you?"
He carefully lifts a flower into his palm. In the light, he spreads its petals open to reveal it for its true self. A perfect white daisy, ruined by red splotches. He closes his hand gently around it.
"Or shall I guess?"
For a moment longer, he watches your face in a passing moonbeam. Then disappears from your room as though he'd never been there to begin with.
He forgets to say anything to Calcifer before he aways out the castle door again.
-
"Come outside and sit with us," Sophie pleads kindly. "The air in here is so stale. It'll make you feel better."
You don't know what possess you to agree.
She helps wrap a shawl around your shoulders before leading you down the stairs. You choke out a laugh. "It should be me helping you around, old woman," you tease.
She grins as she chimes back, "Maybe you're really older than me!"
Calcifer settles the castle down by the water of Star Lake. The grass is so lush and green, it feels like stepping into a dream. Sophie was right, too; the air is so much nicer out here.
Markl runs past with a basket full of clothes, a look of dogged determination scrunching his face. You feel more sturdy as you walk along with Sophie. She makes a sound of surprise when you sit down in the grass.
"Don't you want a chair?"
You shake your head. You close your eyes and take in the refreshing breeze. "This is perfect."
Her footsteps retreat away. You can hear her muttering to herself as she heads over to Markl to wash the clothes and sheets.
You let out a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into? Not that you had much control over having the curse laid upon you. You still remember that day: The Witch of the Waste cornering you in that little market while you were out shopping with Markl. He'd run on ahead to look at some magical gizmos at one stall while you admired the flowers being sold at another. She'd known your feelings for Howl, even before you'd fully realized them. And for them, she'd cursed you. A funny little way to get back at her old love. You'd found Markl and run back to the castle as quick as you could.
The cough began a few days later, when Howl took over cooking breakfast from you. It wasn't until a few weeks after that the first petals came out.
You look down. Your fingers had been tearing out the grass without you even realizing. You lift up a clump and watch it scatter in the wind. When you look back down to gather more, you finally notice the little flowers beginning to grow around you.
You shouldn't be surprised; this lake is so rich with magical energy. But the familiar white and yellow of daisies is alarming. You're so used to seeing them covered in blood, to see them so pristine feels unusual.
You feel silly plucking one by its long stem. Even sillier plucking the petals one by one.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me…
You stare woefully at the last petal. Mocking you in your child's game. Your fingers shake as you pluck it free.
He loves me not.
You grab at your chest as a harsh cough tears through you. The pristine petals scatter on your clothes and in the wind. The stem falls empty in your lap.
You truly feel like you're choking this time. Air doesn't seem to want to come in when you try gasping for it. All you can do is clutch at your chest and throat as something awful worms its way from your afflicted lungs.
You don't hear the rush of feet coming toward you. Nor feel the hand rubbing and patting your back. You also don't feel the tears that begin to fall as you fight to breathe once more.
The flower comes first, poking out of your mouth like a tongue, bowing toward the ground as gravity takes hold. In your desperation, you grab hold of it and tug. The long stem pulls free, making you gag as it comes up covered in spit and mucus and blood. You hold it in a tight fist as you finally gasp in shallow lungfuls of air.
It's far thicker than any flower you coughed up before. The bloom is as big as your palm, with layers of petals overlapping each other. The stem is as thick as your thumb, and as long as your forearm. The end has thick, wispy roots dangling from it. You have to wonder if they attached to your lungs at some point, or if all the flowers tangled together, holding on to each other by the roots.
You don't fight against Sophie as she lifts you to your feet and throws your arm around her shoulder. Blood from the flower stains her dress, but she says nothing of it as she orders Markl to get the door. The distance back inside feels leagues further than before.
You stumble up the entrance stairs. Sophie deposits you in the chair. Calcifer flickers wildly in his pile of logs.
"Look at how big that thing is!" he gapes. "You can't keep going like this much longer!"
"What is it? What have they got?" Sophie asks, distracted from fetching a cup of water.
Markl sticks his head through the stairwell railing as the door shuts, the color wheel changes, and it opens again. "Master Howl! Y/N's coughing up flowers!"
He doesn't acknowledge the boy as he takes the steps in twos and speeds to your side. He uncorks a bottle with a bright pink liquid still bubbling inside and holds it to your mouth. "Drink this," he demands.
You turn away. Tumble from the chair in your effort to get away from that accursed potion. "No!" you cough. He chases after as you crawl back against the stair wall and cover your face with your arms. "No, please, don't make me!"
"You're already coughing up whole flowers," he argues. You feel the impact of his knee as it hits the floor beside you. His fingers try to pry your arms away from your mouth, but even in your weakened state he struggles. "Markl, help me!"
The boy rushes over to your side, both hands tugging at one arm. Sophie watches on, watching the squirming mass of you three as Howl slowly manages to pull your arm down from your mouth.
The next thing she knows, your arm swings out and knocks the bottle from his hand. Before he can reach out and catch it, it shatters on the floor.
Everything stills for a moment. Markl releases you, staring at the pink liquid seeping into the wood. You drop your arms, all energy drained as you pant heavily to catch your breath. Howl's panting, too, stunned. Then angry.
"Why did you do that?" he shouts at you. "If you don't drink that potion, you'll die!"
You can't muster up words. All you can do is shake your head and cry.
Sophie steps over the stain as she comes to your side, pulling you to her to soothe your tears away. "What is it?" she asks Howl.
"A very rare disease. A curse." He stands and crosses hurriedly to the workbench. He sweeps everything aside with a loud clatter before gathering more ingredients and things to remake the potion. "There's only two accounts of it and only one cure."
She looks down at you, baffled. "Why don't you want to take it, then?"
"The potion has a side effect," Calcifer pipes up grimly. "Whoever drinks it can never love again."
"Please," you whisper into her shoulder. "Please, I don't want to… Please…"
Markl trots over to a stack of books. "I think I remember something about that in one of these," he says. Sophie curses the way he nearly topples the whole stack over when he wriggles one free. He grunts as he sets it on the floor and flips through the pages. "Here!
The Hanahaki Curse
This curse is considered one of the most dangerous of spells. When cast, this spell can take days or months to take full effect. Flowers begin to sprout in the lungs, affecting the curse bearer's breathing and health. If untreated, the flowers begin obstructing the airways. Choking on them can cause bleeding from the throat and lungs, and eventually death.
Of two known cases of the curse, only one survived. The first died of suffocation. The second brewed a potion that killed off the flowers. However, this potion also removed with it all ability to feel romantic attraction, noted by the bearer themself. In their journals, they admitted no longer feeling the attraction they once had for a fellow colleague, as documented in entries prior, despite no other changes in behavior or interaction. No other cure has been found. It is believed the growth of these flowers is exacerbated by unrequited romantic feelings, after comparing both accounts and their similarities."
"Which is why," butts Howl, carrying over another bottle of the pink liquid, "you must drink this."
You bury your face deeper into Sophie's dress. "Please, no…! Please, don't make me…!"
Sophie holds you tighter and glares at Howl. "They're caused by unrequited love, it just said so!"
"Yes, but unless that love is returned, the curse will kill them!"
"So we just need to figure out who they love! If they confess and their feelings aren't shared, then they can take the potion!"
Howl sighs. "That's a serious risk, Sophie! Their lungs are full of those flowers by this point!"
"Well, they aren't going to drink it willingly and I won't let you force it down their throat!"
You half-expect the shadows and figures to appear on distorting walls as he throws another tantrum. The last one had been bad enough; you'd helped Sophie scrub the slime from the floors for hours. You're relieved when he just groans and sets the potion down on the table. "Two days! If you don't confess to your crush by then, you're drinking this potion."
Your heart jolts with anxiety at the thought. But what else can you do? Either way, there's no way he would ever reciprocate your feelings.
You nod your agreement and raise your head from Sophie's shoulder with a sniffle. Your eyes are rimmed red from tears. Howl turns back to the workbench and begins slapping together more potions for customers, pouting after not getting his way.
Calcifer shoots you a pointed look as Sophie helps you to your feet and to her bed.
-
You can't sleep at all. Not only because you feel strange sleeping under the stairs - in part because it's easier not to go up them and so Calcifer can keep an eye on you - but because your mind keeps racing. You only have two days to confess, if you even last that long.
Calcifer crackles in the hearth. "You should try to get some rest," he says.
"I would, but I can't." You sigh as you sit up. The ache in your chest is persistent. All you can do is ignore it as you wrap a blanket around your shoulders and peter over to the chair. "What am I going to do, Cal?"
"Confess how you feel," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"What if he doesn't feel the same? The book said the flowers are caused by unrequited love… what if I confess and he doesn't feel the same?"
"Nobody knows."
"I could die on the spot."
"But at least you'd have said something."
You stare at his flickering flames. Your thoughts are all muddled. On one hand, you know he's right. And if your feelings aren't shared and you do die, perhaps that's a mercy. On the other, it's a death that feels too certain; Howl chases so many pretty young ladies, never falling in love with any of them, why should you be any different? Perhaps you should drink the potion. But even that hurts to think about. You'd have to leave the castle to spare yourself the pain of existing around him and never being able to love him…
"Leaving's no good either," you mutter. "My feelings won't go away with distance."
"You've proven that well enough."
You snicker despite the dark humor. "I suppose I have."
You sigh. Calcifer's heat warms your face and hair as you lay your cheek down on the stone of his hearth. You close your eyes and allow it to sink into you.
"Hey, don't fall asleep there," he chides. You don't move. "Hellooo! Hey! C'mon, you're going to inhale ash if you sleep there!"
You let out a quiet snore. Calcifer sighs in annoyance and sinks into his logs. "I hope you tell him soon. I can't take much more of your moping. Howl's bad enough as it is."
-
When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself back in Sophie's little alcove. It confused you immensely at first. From falling asleep elsewhere and waking up in someone else's bed, you were quite disoriented. As reality came seeping back in, you realized someone must have moved you. The thought of Howl doing such a thing sends you into such a coughing fit, you nearly consider drinking the potion just to be rid of the pain.
Instead, you go back to sleep. You're too tired to do much else. Too weak to bother. It's much easier to sleep away the time. Bypass the hours of anxiety that would otherwise keep you awake.
Sophie does her best to help. She wakes you up for meals, helping you sit up and spoon-feeding you. You insist it's not necessary; you're not so enfeebled you can't feed yourself yet. But when she sees your hands shake trying to do just that, she clicks her tongue and takes over again.
You're grateful for it, truly. Food has become so unappealing when all you seem to do is cough flowers up. It doesn't help when she tries to wriggle information out of you at the same time, however. Bites of food become choked up and replaced with daisies when she leans in conspiratorially to make guesses of your one-sided love. She names several dashing young customers that you know well, and even Calcifer, at one point, if only to make you laugh and stir the fire demon's attitude. But she never mentions Howl. You think she must know. Surely, she must.
Markl sticks by your side. The poor child, he dashes to the door to deal with customers and runs right back to sit at the foot of the bed. He hugs you tightly through the bedding, at one point.
"Please don't die!" he'd begged tearfully. "I love you, you can't die!"
You were tempted to drink the potion then, too, as you rubbed his back and promised him you would try not to. Promising anything anymore certain felt too much like a lie.
You don't see Howl all day. You think maybe you've just missed him, sleeping all the time, but Calcifer confirms that Howl's been out all day. You have to stop yourself from imagining him courting some pretty little thing in Kingsbury for fear of choking on another giant daisy like before. You can't even get out of bed to sit by Calcifer like usual; you have to make your plea to tell you when Howl returns from the bed.
-
The second day, you feel on the edge of death.
You wake up sputtering petals for nearly an hour alone. You want to sleep. If you just lay back down and rest, surely it will get better. You know it won't. Perhaps Howl's cowardice has infected you after all your time spent with him. You heave into a bucket at the thought; Howl running away from you while you're like this, just waiting for you to be back to normal again.
"Calcifer," you whimper out weakly from Sophie's alcove around noon. The fire demon is at attention right away, turning in the hearth to hang on to your every word. "Bring the castle… to Star Lake… please…"
"What do you want to go there for?" You cough up another lump of flowers. Calcifer grabs a fresh log from the stack. "I'll take you there, Y/N, just hold on."
You keep your eyes open to watch him at work. He makes it seem so effortless, all the tasks he has to perform, but you can tell he struggles now. And no wonder, when you can feel the castle shaking with the speed he's moving it. "Thank you…"
Sophie comes over with a bowl of porridge, sitting on the edge of the bed. You hide your face in your pillow with a groan. "I can't…"
She sighs, but she doesn't try to feed you this time. "After you're feeling better, I expect all of it to be gone," she says, much like a mother. You nod obediently. She sets the bowl on the bed beside her, opposite of you. "What are you planning to do?"
"Confess," you admit quietly, "but… I don't know… if I'll be able to before…" You glance at Markl again. He's thrown himself into trying to learn a new spell that Howl left for him. You don't finish the thought aloud. You can't bear making him upset. But it resonates in your heart: if there is one place you would be happy to die, it would be at Star Lake. You wheeze, and Sophie raises the bucket from the floor for you.
She wipes your mouth with a kerchief. "Just tell me what I can do to help."
You smile as best you can, but it withers with your anxieties. "I will…"
The trip to the lake feels heavy. Even if you don't die there, a part of you will. The love you held for Howl would shrivel and disappear when you drink that potion. A love you hold so dear now. You don't want to let it go.
The castle stops shaking as it settles down by the water, sometime in the late afternoon. Calcifer sighs with relief and grabs two more logs as his flame dims with exhaustion. "We're here," he pants. "I'm not moving again until tomorrow!"
Sophie helps you sit up, then stand. Markl grabs your other arm to help, both of them supporting you across the castle floor. You smile at Calcifer over Markl's red hair, silently thanking him.
"Good luck," he mutters.
The lake is just as beautiful as before. The grass sways in a gentle breeze. Water ripples distort the light of the sun, creating the illusion of fairies dancing along the surface. They lead you down the slope to the spot you sat before. The daisies are still there. More begin to bud as you sit on the ground.
Neither of them want to leave you there. You just offer another smile. "When Howl comes back," you tell Sophie in a quiet rasp, "have him bring me the potion…"
She nods with a solemn frown on her face. "I will. We'll be inside." She rests a hand on your shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. "If you need us, just give a shout."
Markl hesitates on the journey back inside. He pauses multiple times on the way back to the door. Each time, he looks at you. You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh air, lifting your head to the descending sun. You try not to think of how long you'll be forced to wait here for your fickle wizard, but you know you'd wait millennia for him to come back.
In the meantime, you're left to your thoughts.
You think about what could come after.
What will you do if you drink the potion? Well, you most assuredly will drink the potion, or you most assuredly will die. So you'll be left without your love. Yet you'll still be aware you did love at one point. Will you be able to bear that? Could you stand another minute around him, not being able to love him? Could you actually leave Markl and Calcifer and Sophie behind if you leave to escape that void? Part of you wants to remain a coward. Run away from them, just as you'd run away from your growing feelings up to this point. But would you really abandon the other people that love you over Howl?
You pluck daisies mindlessly from the grass. Split their stems with your thumb nail and set to work weaving them together.
What if you never get the chance to drink the potion? It's already growing dark; what if you choke before sundown?
What if you confess and he doesn't return your feelings? Would you choke immediately after on a flower the size of your head? Would you simply keel over from the stems crushing your lungs?
Suppose, either way, Howl will be able to contribute fantastically to the documentation of the curse.
… What if he does feel the same way?
You gasp in the aftermath of choking up another handful of flowers. These are different, to your surprise. Instead of white and yellow daisies, stained red, the flowers in your hand are already red. A swirl of soft petals, frayed at the tips. A carnation. You try to remember what that book said of them; not the book of curses, but a much smaller one on the secret meanings behind flowers.
Red carnation: my heart aches, deep love
How fitting.
They begin to sprout up around you in the grass. Long stems grow up and up, and burst into crimson blooms. You pluck them and add them to your weave.
You can't ponder that question, because you've already convinced yourself of its impossibility.
You watch the sun set behind the lake. Brilliant golds and pinks and oranges cross the sky as it dips below the horizon. The night chases after, with its dark blues and rich purples. The moon is too far behind to grace you with its light yet. The stars are only beginning to peep out when you hear the door to the castle open.
You're scared. Terrified, really. You're not ready to bear your heart out, but you're not ready to die either. You can't run from this anymore.
The footsteps tromp softly through the grass. Steady, like a funeral drum. You lay your chain of flowers across your lap with shaky hands, trying to draw up your last ounces of courage and strength.
They come to a stop beside you. And then Howl sits on the ground beside you.
You don't know what to say. Don't know how to even begin.
Howl's hand opens before his face, palm to the sky. He blows gently into his palm and little balls of light, like fireflies, dance through the air. They hover around you both, lighting the area in soft golden light. You can see better now. See the flowers growing wildly in the grass. A pink flower joins them now, with layers and layers of petals in a dazzlingly symmetrical array.
You're embarrassed to see them grow more rampantly around Howl's legs. His knee almost touches yours.
"The lake is responding to your feelings," he notes with soft awe. His long fingers stretch out to cradle one of these new blooms. His thumb brushes the soft petals with interest. "Pink camellia," he murmurs.
You cough sharply, a stinging pain in your chest, as you turn away to cough into your hand. He touches your back, aiming to help coax the petals out, but it only seems to make it worse. You miss the warmth it brought.
"I brought the potion," he says once the fit has passed. He sets the bottle carefully beside you, between you both. He frowns at the flowers - daisies, carnations and camellias - you drop into the grass. "You should drink it now, before it gets any worse."
You shake your head. "No," you rasp, "I need-" cough "to tell you something first…"
You take several breaths. They grate and wheeze horribly. Slowly, you gather the strength to look at him properly.
He looks the same as ever, and yet the most beautiful you've ever seen him. His dark hair shines with the magical glow of the dancing lights. His blue eyes reflect back at you like the lake at sunset. His earrings pick up slightly in a breeze, swaying to the side with the opening of his shirt. You can't imagine seeing him like this and not feeling this stirring in your heart.
"I love you, Howl. I love you so much, it hurts. You chase after pretty girls and break their hearts and run away, and I still keep hoping you'll break mine next. I'm such a fool for falling in love with you. Maybe even a bigger one for even bothering to tell you."
"Y/N…"
You shake your head, unable to even muster a forced smile, as you look down and uncork the bottle. The glass is cold in your hand. Even in the dark, the pink liquid inside seems to glow and bubble, despite being brewed days ago. "You don't have to lie to me. I love you too much to force you to stay… I just hope I haven't scared you off too badly now."
You raise the bottle to your lips. You've said your piece; you can't bear to hear him tell you he doesn't love you. If you choke it down now, you can escape the lump of a bouquet you feel at the base of your throat. Be rid of the constant strain on your heart to keep beating as vines strangle it. No longer feel winded from all the stems and petals curling in the empty space of your lungs.
A hand covers yours, sharply tugging the bottle down into your lap. You stare at him, wide-eyed in shock. Of all the ways you imagined this night going, you never thought he would stop you like this.
He cradles your cheek in his other hand. He smiles softly, but there's a frantic energy inside of him, like he's anxious or scared. "I ran to those other girls because I was afraid of being a fool in front of you," he admits. "I've always been a coward, especially when it comes to you."
"Howl, please-"
"I'm not lying." He squeezes your hand. "When I saw those flowers… I was terrified. I ran away because the thought of you being in love with someone else - I couldn't bear it. I was selfish for wanting you to drink that potion right away. I just never thought…" He laughs bitterly. "I guess we're both fools and cowards, huh?"
He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. His face is blurred through your tears. He wipes them away with his thumb as they fall.
"You mean it?"
"Every word. I love you."
It's like a weight has been lifted from your chest. Your throat is clear, lungs free, heart beating rampant behind your ribs. You lunge forward, throwing your arms around his shoulders and tackling him into the grass. Flowers break and squish underneath him. Neither of you pay it much mind.
You kiss him fiercely. Desperately. So profoundly happy your hands shake not from fear or strain, but from overwhelming joy. He kisses back just as passionately. The potion falls to the side, forgotten, spilling its magical weed killer into grass that shrivels and browns. His arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close now that he's allowed to do so.
You pull away panting. When you open your eyes, he's still there, beaming up at you with bright eyes and a beautiful smile.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asks softly.
"I was afraid you were going to run away again. Like with the other girls."
He shakes his head. "I'm not. Not this time. I promise."
He leans up to capture your lips again. The stars fill the sky overhead, as ambrosia blooms in a forest around you both.
