nine - f o u r t i m e s ... - pg13
Title: Four Times Sophie and Howl Kiss and One Time They Don’t
Genre: Howl's Moving Castle, movie-verse.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sophie/Howl
Any warnings: Kissing! Ha. And some slight nakedness ;)
Betas Used: All mistakes are my own :)
Summary: Various scenes are homages to Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark, the Princess Bride, and from the actual movie of HMC :) All vignettes are presented in chronological order!
I.
"Sophie, Sophie-- you're beautiful!"
Her eyes seem to sparkle for a waving moment, lingering on the precipice of something more-- much more. Howl knows she can do it, knows she can break the spell if only she'd believe in herself. And all at once, Sophie is at peace, and Howl knows that this time she cannot do it. She shrinks, and Howl's hope deflates as well.
"Well, the nice thing about being old is that you have nothing much to lose." She is old and wrinkled and defeated; she is everything Howl should dismiss.
And yet he still loves her.
This was the time to do it, then, to admit his feelings-- to admit everything! Howl stared into her eyes for a long moment--
A flash of sound. Howl's head jerked in the direction from where it came. It was a battleship, but it mattered not whose side it was on. It did not matter. His sanctuary had been penetrated, and that... that was inexcusable.
Not even this place was safe. At least, not safe enough for her.
II.
It is a dead kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.
He looks straight ahead, beyond Sophie, beyond this world... she looks straight at him, deep into his blank eyes, and sees that he is still there. She knows at last that she can save him, and it is hope that consumes her. Although the kiss is a dead one, she is utterly alive.
"I need you to take me to Calcifer... if you can."
He flies.
III.
The balcony is beautiful from where they are standing. Sophie doesn't lose that peacefulness that she had attained as an old woman; she remembers the tranquility the sight of nature gave her. However, it's become rather hard for Sophie to look at nature with Howl's arm pushing up against her side.
He loves her. He loves her. He's just said it for the first time and it's just wonderful, really; her heart feels as though it has its own pair of wings and has just flown away into the horizon. He loves her, he loves her, oh God he loves her.
He leans in for a kiss, and she smiles through the entire embrace.
IV.
She is reaching for the pot on the highest shelf when he at last arrives home to the castle. Howl's hair (blond once again) covers his face, but his eyes are alive with mischief. Sophie, on the other hand, is reaching, standing on her tip toes and reaching for the urn placed on the highest shelf. Sophie is about a head too short for the job; she is frustrated at her shortness, while Howl is merely amused.
"Howl," she calls without turning around, for she knows how to feel his presence without laying an eye on him, "fetch me that pot, will you?" Sliding back onto the heels of her feet, she feels vanquished.
Howl approaches her with a slowness that ticks even Sophie off; he is smirking, and it gives her a shiver that travels down her spine. She tries to hide the tremor, but Howl's attentive eye catches it.
"As you wish," he whispers, handing her the pot.
She raises and eyebrow before pecking him on the lips, cradling the pot in her arms. She turns away from him, bright red; Howl catches her in his arms and plants a kiss on the nape of her neck.
Sophie shivers again.
V.
“Damn it, Howl, where doesn’t it hurt?” she asks, resting a hand upon her hip. She’s wearing a silk shift that’s white as winter snow, and her eyes are bright with mischief-- something that Howl is far too beat up and tired to deal with at the time being. He groans and mumbles something along the lines of, “It hurts everywhere, Sophie, to be perfectly frank, so I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me be.” She raises and eyebrow and Howl closes his eyes, exasperated. If Sophie was anything, she was persistent... bloody awful trait, if you asked him. Crawling towards him on the bed, Sophie felt the sheets below her shift to accommodate her body.
“The king’s really been to hard on you, Howl; he should know better than to waste his most prized possesion,” Sophie sighs, snuggling up against up. Howl whimpers as her body grazes against various cuts along his torso.
“God-- damn it Sophie, you’re rubbing up against my battle wounds,” Howl growls, inching away from her. Sophie rolls her eyes.
“What, these papercuts?” she teases, lifting up the comforter to get a closer look. Although she does not say, the cuts do look rather ghastly. Sophie calms herself in a moment of panic and then lifts her head back up to Howl’s face, which is set in a permanent state of grimace.
“They’re not papercuts; ‘s serious business, being the king’s wizard,” Howl murmurs pathetically. He’s acting like a baby, they both know it, but they also both know that Howl actually is hurt and they would be kidding themselves to think otherwise. Sophie tilts her head at Howl thoughtfully, and an idea seems to spark within her.
“What about... here,” she whispers, kissing his shoulder softly. It is a lingering kiss, one that leaves a small red mark upon Howl’s dove white skin. "Is that so terrible?"
Howl makes a non-committing grunt and shoots her an interested expression from below his long lashes.
"What about... here," Sophie whispers, running her lips along his neck. She nicks a gash along the nape of it, and Howl winces. Sophie pulls back, startled, but then continues on, more carefully, softer. Finally, she lands on Howl's eyelid and presses down with her lips. Howl sighs affirmatively. Carefully, he lifts a finger and points to his lips.
Sophie's eyes crinkle as her head bows forward towards his.
Genre: Howl's Moving Castle, movie-verse.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sophie/Howl
Any warnings: Kissing! Ha. And some slight nakedness ;)
Betas Used: All mistakes are my own :)
Summary: Various scenes are homages to Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark, the Princess Bride, and from the actual movie of HMC :) All vignettes are presented in chronological order!
I.
"Sophie, Sophie-- you're beautiful!"
Her eyes seem to sparkle for a waving moment, lingering on the precipice of something more-- much more. Howl knows she can do it, knows she can break the spell if only she'd believe in herself. And all at once, Sophie is at peace, and Howl knows that this time she cannot do it. She shrinks, and Howl's hope deflates as well.
"Well, the nice thing about being old is that you have nothing much to lose." She is old and wrinkled and defeated; she is everything Howl should dismiss.
And yet he still loves her.
This was the time to do it, then, to admit his feelings-- to admit everything! Howl stared into her eyes for a long moment--
A flash of sound. Howl's head jerked in the direction from where it came. It was a battleship, but it mattered not whose side it was on. It did not matter. His sanctuary had been penetrated, and that... that was inexcusable.
Not even this place was safe. At least, not safe enough for her.
II.
It is a dead kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.
He looks straight ahead, beyond Sophie, beyond this world... she looks straight at him, deep into his blank eyes, and sees that he is still there. She knows at last that she can save him, and it is hope that consumes her. Although the kiss is a dead one, she is utterly alive.
"I need you to take me to Calcifer... if you can."
He flies.
III.
The balcony is beautiful from where they are standing. Sophie doesn't lose that peacefulness that she had attained as an old woman; she remembers the tranquility the sight of nature gave her. However, it's become rather hard for Sophie to look at nature with Howl's arm pushing up against her side.
He loves her. He loves her. He's just said it for the first time and it's just wonderful, really; her heart feels as though it has its own pair of wings and has just flown away into the horizon. He loves her, he loves her, oh God he loves her.
He leans in for a kiss, and she smiles through the entire embrace.
IV.
She is reaching for the pot on the highest shelf when he at last arrives home to the castle. Howl's hair (blond once again) covers his face, but his eyes are alive with mischief. Sophie, on the other hand, is reaching, standing on her tip toes and reaching for the urn placed on the highest shelf. Sophie is about a head too short for the job; she is frustrated at her shortness, while Howl is merely amused.
"Howl," she calls without turning around, for she knows how to feel his presence without laying an eye on him, "fetch me that pot, will you?" Sliding back onto the heels of her feet, she feels vanquished.
Howl approaches her with a slowness that ticks even Sophie off; he is smirking, and it gives her a shiver that travels down her spine. She tries to hide the tremor, but Howl's attentive eye catches it.
"As you wish," he whispers, handing her the pot.
She raises and eyebrow before pecking him on the lips, cradling the pot in her arms. She turns away from him, bright red; Howl catches her in his arms and plants a kiss on the nape of her neck.
Sophie shivers again.
V.
“Damn it, Howl, where doesn’t it hurt?” she asks, resting a hand upon her hip. She’s wearing a silk shift that’s white as winter snow, and her eyes are bright with mischief-- something that Howl is far too beat up and tired to deal with at the time being. He groans and mumbles something along the lines of, “It hurts everywhere, Sophie, to be perfectly frank, so I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me be.” She raises and eyebrow and Howl closes his eyes, exasperated. If Sophie was anything, she was persistent... bloody awful trait, if you asked him. Crawling towards him on the bed, Sophie felt the sheets below her shift to accommodate her body.
“The king’s really been to hard on you, Howl; he should know better than to waste his most prized possesion,” Sophie sighs, snuggling up against up. Howl whimpers as her body grazes against various cuts along his torso.
“God-- damn it Sophie, you’re rubbing up against my battle wounds,” Howl growls, inching away from her. Sophie rolls her eyes.
“What, these papercuts?” she teases, lifting up the comforter to get a closer look. Although she does not say, the cuts do look rather ghastly. Sophie calms herself in a moment of panic and then lifts her head back up to Howl’s face, which is set in a permanent state of grimace.
“They’re not papercuts; ‘s serious business, being the king’s wizard,” Howl murmurs pathetically. He’s acting like a baby, they both know it, but they also both know that Howl actually is hurt and they would be kidding themselves to think otherwise. Sophie tilts her head at Howl thoughtfully, and an idea seems to spark within her.
“What about... here,” she whispers, kissing his shoulder softly. It is a lingering kiss, one that leaves a small red mark upon Howl’s dove white skin. "Is that so terrible?"
Howl makes a non-committing grunt and shoots her an interested expression from below his long lashes.
"What about... here," Sophie whispers, running her lips along his neck. She nicks a gash along the nape of it, and Howl winces. Sophie pulls back, startled, but then continues on, more carefully, softer. Finally, she lands on Howl's eyelid and presses down with her lips. Howl sighs affirmatively. Carefully, he lifts a finger and points to his lips.
Sophie's eyes crinkle as her head bows forward towards his.