#❅ out of gloves — (ooc) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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Breathless

Summary: In which Willow can't seem to catch her breath around Hunter. "You want to help with my research, right? You think I got these eyebags from only staying up till 2 am?”

WC: 8.5k

TW: Hunter x Willow Park, mostly post King’s Tide, minor post time-skip where squad returns to the Demon realm, portal works, and everyone is doing ok :D, mutual pining, cute and awkward teen romance???, teenagers amiright 💁‍♀️✨️, idiots in love, a 4 times+1 time fic bc 5+1 doesn’t make sense to me, he fell first but she fell harder, minor insecure Willow, minor Hunter having an identity crisis

AN: Inspired by the linked artwork of amazing Twitter artist @beaniewinnie96!!

⏤

Willow thinks she's getting sick.

They come and go, bouts of airless lungs and necessary deep inhales, attempts of her just trying to breathe, and you would think it should come easy. Something as basic and natural as breathing. At first, she pushes the matter aside. It’s probably just anxiety⏤mini panic attacks⏤subjects she’s familiar with. Those are a thing, right??

She eventually learns that is not the case, and she is completely out of her element.

The first time she has one of those “mini-panic attacks”, she deems them, it’s almost a week after they fell into the Human realm. It's been a hard couple of days. The transition is rough; they never thought they’d end up here, not under these circumstances. When Luz tells stories of her life in the Human realm, her eyes light up in a way the Demon realm never does for her, a kind of wistful gleam and wobbly smile that says, I miss home, though her friend doesn’t say it. But that look, it’s enough to make her dream what it’d be like, their little squad clad in human attire as Luz drags them around her hometown, showing them the wonders of her world. A world functioning without magic.

She got her wish in the worst way possible.

And Luz, ever attuned to the vibes of their team, thinks it’s a good idea to take them to the "mall". Whatever that is. Boost morale, she says. After all, Mrs. Noceda says they deserve to have something of their own while in the Human realm, and they can’t keep rotating between her and Luz’s wardrobe. They pointedly refuse to acknowledge the oversized clothes Hunter’s been borrowing since the rainy night they arrived.

But she's right. A trip to the "mall" is exactly what they need.

It’s strange yet fascinating. A structure as big as Hexside, only sleek and shinier, with store fronts lining the walls and center, reminding her of the local marketplaces at home. The thought alone makes her throat close up. But then Gus’s eyes blow wide and he squeals, practically vibrating as he tugs Mrs. Noceda to the nearest store⏤she assumes for human toys?⏤grinning the widest he’s been in what feels like centuries. Firing questions a mile a minute, he looks his age again, childlike wonder and all, and it’s enough to bring some light back into the children's tired eyes as they break off to explore, Mrs. Noceda shouting back at them to meet at that spot in an hour.

Luz and Amity are quick to pair up, and with no intention of third-wheeling, Willow saddles next to Hunter, an instinct that's quickly become second nature nowadays. They lag behind the couple as Luz directs them to the nearest clothing store (“You-knee-qui-low?” “Close enough.”). Weaving between the racks, she lets her hands brush over soft fabrics and stiff cloths, and it’s not long when she finds something for herself. Satisfied, she wanders into the next aisle to find Hunter frowning at a wall of neatly shelved clothes.

“Find anything you like?”

Hunter jolts, whirling to face her. “Captain! Um⏤” He flushes, tugging the hood over his ears tighter. Endearing, Willow thinks, unable to help the smile that automatically spreads across her face. “No, not yet.”

“Not a big fan of colors?” She asks, coming to stand next to him as she eyes the selection of shirts, all different colors and prints.

“Not necessarily. I mean, I’m used to the neutral colors from the coven, but I don’t mind a bit of color,” His voice comes hesitant, and she notes the way he fiddles with the cloth of a hanging shirt. One of his gloves, the exact pair Mrs. Noceda had to coax from him so she can dry them from the rain, is untucked from the sleeve of the sweatshirt. “But the texture…”

She hums in understanding. Hunter tilts his head curiously as she purses her lips, thoughtful and cute with the green bandana shifting over her ears. His face grows hotter, and as he bats the thought away, she turns wordlessly, scanning the store before walking off. She hears Hunter call out to her, and she gestures for him to follow, leading them a few aisles down, stopping a few times to touch clothes, only twice plucking them off its hanger or shelf.

When they come to halt by the changing rooms, Willow shoves the small stack into his arms. “Here, try these on.”

“O-oh, okay,” Hunter mumbles as she ushers him behind the curtain. The child soldier he was, he’s quick and efficient, stepping out minutes later. He smiles awkwardly, seconds passing as she stares at him, unblinking. He stands straighter, stiff arms outstretched. “So, what do you think?”

Think?

Right. Thoughts. She has those.

But not right now. Any trains of thought she has skids to a halt as her eyes trail over his figure. She knows she has a thing for fashion. Back home, her style is the one thing she feels like she has control over, the one thing she can do effortlessly before she transferred to the plant track, and she likes to think that she’s knowledgeable when it comes to aesthetics now, but she doesn’t realize that skill transcends realms.

She can’t explain it, but something about Hunter in human clothes just suits him. Almost naturally. He looks good. Like really good.

So good that she forgets breathing’s a thing.

Reminding herself that it is in fact a thing, Willow inhales deeply as she collects the first thought that comes to mind. "Perfect," she exhales, and something in her tone makes him flush redder than he already is. She chuckles, eyes crinkling as he gives her a dramatic spin, the warm, yellow flannel swishing along his lean frame, "How does it feel?"

He pauses, blinking at her. "Feel?"

"Yeah. You always seem to wear layers and the gloves would definitely clash with the shirts you were looking at earlier." Without thinking, she takes his hand, the little "meep" he lets out going over her head as she thumbs at the price tag. "This 'flan-nel' felt pretty thick and smooth. A-and both this and the beanie are soft. I thought you might like it?"

Willow looks up, meeting his eyes, and Hunter tries not to stare as her lips quirk, like she's trying to hide her hesitance and insecurity. It's a fraction compared to the first day they met, how he'd hurt her enough to make her doubt herself.

She genuinely hopes he likes what she picked out for him.

To be honest, he'd wear anything if she asked him to. Which is exactly what went through his mind the moment he entered the changing room, nearly bumping into the walls as he yanked the sweatshirt over his head. The captain picked these for you, Hunter! Make yourself presentable!! He threw on the flannel over the black t-shirt he borrowed from Mrs. Noceda, not even considering how smooth and heavy it felt on the exposed skin of his arms, and how soft the beanie felt over the tips of his ears.

The fact that she put that much thought into it, that she hadn't just snatched the first thing she came across as doable, that her decisions were calculated, warms his thundering heart.

Or galdorstone. He's still not sure what exactly beats in his chest.

Whichever one it is, it’s in his throat now as Hunter gathers the courage to take her hand, the one holding up his own. Ignoring the heat spreading to his face, he offers her a reassuring smile, not caring the brunt of his teeth are on display, “It’s perfect, Captain. Thank you.”

She beams up at him, and when she tells him to change so they can go pay with Luz and Amity, he hopes to smile as beautiful as her one day.

⏤

“We’re over budget.”

“...What?”

⏤

The second time she gets another mini-panic attack, they're coming on two weeks into their stay, it's late into the night, and Willow can’t sleep.

It's not weird; it's never easy for her to sleep anywhere that isn't home, except for Gus’s. Coupled with the disaster that was the Day of Unity and the fact she's in a new realm where everything is basically upside down to her, a decent night's rest seems far out of reach.

But she'd never admit that outloud. She doesn't need anyone fretting over her, she thinks, glancing at Luz as she snores softly in bed, and at Amity, still as the dead in her own sleeping bag. They're bigger things to worry about than her skewed sleep schedule. Like finding a way home.

So when she finds herself awake at the oddest hours again, unable to go back to sleep, she decides to head down to the kitchen. Get some more water, maybe make that warm honey milk Mrs. Noceda showed her before. It seemed to work wonders before, when everyone was too worried to sleep. Hopefully, it'll do the trick.

Careful as she shuts the bedroom door, she creeps down the stairs, flinching with every creek of the floorboards. Eventually, she reaches the first floor, only to blink back her surprise as a light from the living room seeps into the dark hallway.

She pokes her head around the corner, calling out softly, “Hunter?”

Just as she thought, there he is, settled on the couch with a thick, leather bound book and a steaming mug on the coffee table. The borrowed pajamas hang off him like a coat rack, but she ignores the burn in her ears as shadows contour his exposed sternum, sprinkled with faded scars trailing down to his chest.

Titan, calm yourself. It's just skin.

Yeah. Of a boy who is ho—

—not ugly.

“Captain?” Unaware of her turmoil, he looks at her, “What are you doing up?”

She shakes off her fluster. "Me? Why are you still awake? It's like 1 am.”

"Oh. Whoops. Sorry," He doesn't sound apologetic. Or surprised. He returns his somber gaze to the book, smoothing a gloved hand over the pages. "I'll try to sleep soon. I'm almost done anyway."

She takes a seat beside him and leans closer, scanning the text. "What's all this?"

"Just a little history, mostly of Gravesfield," Face warm, Hunter’s thankful for the dim light of the lamp as he tilts the book towards her, "Since I can't learn much about how magic works in this world, Vee's been helpful, but learning about the town might help find the root of all this. Or something."

She stares, waiting for him to continue, and he refuses to meet her eyes as he adds weakly, “And I figured, I might as well learn more about where I came from, who I was supposed to be.”

Ah.

“Caleb.” Not a question. Confirmation.

“... Yeah.”

When Hunter told them what he is, he wasn’t ready. The first week confined to their house, Mrs. Noceda and Luz agreed a tour of the town was a good idea. Then they all saw it. Placed at the center of town, a monument commemorating that tyrant, all of them frozen as carefully scuplted stone loomed over them like a taunt, reminding them there are people who don’t remember Belos as a murderer, a psychopath, a supremacist. It took a minute to register the figure beside him.

Hunter.

Or what might as well be the adult version of Hunter. With the slope of his nose, the sharp jaw—he even had the tuft of hair that refused to stay put.

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry.

She’d only just realized who she wants to be. She didn’t have much of an identity to begin with anyway. But Hunter’s a perfect counterpart to her; for the longest time, he thought he knew who he was, what he was meant to do. To have that ripped out from under him…

The conversation following was difficult for everyone, but she can’t imagine what Hunter’s been going through since.

Before anxiety gets the best of her, she pipes up, “That’s a good idea.”

He turns to her, “Really?”

“Yeah,” She gently takes the book from him, weighing it in her hands. It’s heavier than she thought. She flips through it, browsing the paragraphs and pictures, “Studying history, going back to your ‘roots’. I’m not much of a history buff, but there’s a lot we can learn from the past.” She hands the book back to him, gesturing to the spread.

He looks down, confused.

On his lap, a lone, black and white image of Caleb Wittebane stares back at him.

"Good and bad."

Silence stretches between them, and she fidgets in her seat as Hunter mulls over her words. Everyone already said what needed to be said last time. She’s not sure what he wants—needs—to hear right now, not yet anyway, but she hopes her words are enough to bring some relief.

And if they aren’t, if he needs more, she’ll do everything in her power to give it to him.

—Comfort, that is!

It–it’s what friends are for.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Hunter says after a pause, though the smile he gives her is halfhearted.

“Here,” His mind blanks as she scoots closer, “Why don’t you tell me what you've read so far? Maybe we can bounce ideas off each other.”

“Y-yeah! Good idea…” Ignoring the burn in his ears, he starts blabbing about how weird human history is. At first, he stutters, his voice cracking at one point, and he wishes the couch would swallow him whole, like the ones back in the Demon realm. Willow only urges him to go on, about oceans that don’t boil and plants that don’t try to kill you. Slowly but surely, he regains his usual confidence, the kind that only comes from a good student, and they find themselves in a deep discussion, mostly Willow asking questions while Hunter flips back and forth between pages, trying to provide as many answers as he can.

"Hey," He pauses mid rant, "Why are you up? I don't think you told me."

She stifles a yawn, "Oh, don't worry about it. Anyway, you were saying about witch hunts?"

But as she fights to keep her eyes open, he gives her a look that makes her want to bury her face into the couch cushions. It's the same look he gives her when he thinks she's not paying attention, like he can see right through her. Not like she's invisible but transparent, as if he can see her everything. Her stomach flutters.

"You know, Captain, I'm no stranger to sleepless nights," She stiffens as he fully turns to her. His eyes gleam in the lamp light, hesitant yet earnest. "Wanna talk about it?”

She sits criss-crossed on the couch. “It's nothing, really.”

“It can't be nothing if it’s bothering you.”

“We've already gone through this.”

“Then run it by me again,” Hunter offers, the book forgotten on his lap.

She thinks it over. How they've slowly begun to trust him completely. And while he wasn't ready at the time, when the truth was forced out of him, he'd given them as much as he could, about the Golden Guards, about grimwalkers, about Philip.

He deserves to have that same honesty and trust returned.

“It's just—” She takes a deep breath, tugging at her hair. “Hard to fall asleep, new, unfamiliar place and all. Don’t get me wrong, Luz and Mrs. Noceda have been so accommodating and wonderful! But…” She trails off as her heart clenches.

“It’s not home,” He finishes for her.

“Yeah,” She clears her throat, “So can I stay up with you for a little bit? If you want to work alone, I can just—hey!” She sputters as Hunter tosses the throw blanket over her. Then a throw pillow. Then another. She raises an eyebrow, lips twitching as she tries not to laugh, “Hunter, what’re you doing?”

He stands, lips pursed as he arranges the blanket over her and fluffs the pillows. "You want to help with my research, right? You think I got these eyebags from only staying up till 2 am?” She gawks at him and he flushes, “Exactly, so buckle up and get comfortable, Captain, because it’s gonna be a long night.” He turns his back to her, and after a rhythmic clinking, he faces her again, his mug outstretched to her.

She stares at it. “Isn’t this yours?”

“It’s fine,” His lips wobble like he’s struggling to maintain a straight face, his face red like it's about to explode.

It’s adorable, enough to convince her to take the mug from him with a quiet “Thank you”.

As he plops down next to her, a pillow and blanket away, thumbing through the book because he lost his place, she brings the mug to her nose, inhaling.

Honey milk.

Hunter’s a really bad liar, she smiles, taking a sip. Her stomach flutters anyway.

She’s right, however, because she only lasts an hour at best, knocking out before she could head back to Luz’s room. And when she wakes up later that morning with Hunter’s chest as her pillow, the morning light gleaming gold against his bed hair as he snores softly, suddenly she can’t breathe.

But she endures.

⏤

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”

“Fine!” Willow squeaks, gripping her newly done pigtails over her face before running off to the kitchen for breakfast.

Hunter scratches his scar, an eyebrow raised. He has a lot to learn about friendship, doesn’t he?

⏤

The next time she gets another mini panic attack, it happens so fast she chokes on her cereal.

“Captain, are you okay!?” Hunter’s at her side in an instant. Not as fast as his magical phasing but it’s close.

“I’m fine,” She coughs, chugging down her glass of juice. Gasping for breath, she wipes her mouth and gapes at him, “C-could you repeat the question?”

His ears turn red as scarred fingers tug at his fingerless gloves. He swallows slowly, “I asked if you would help me run errands today?”

“Oh. That’s what I thought you said.”

For a second, I thought he asked me on a date, She chuckles to herself. He raises an eyebrow. “Of course I’ll help you.”

She shields her eyes as his curious expression morphs into the brightest grin, so wide it almost doesn't fit on his face. “Great! We can leave in an hour.”

With that, Hunter scurries off, leaving her to finish her late breakfast. She raises another spoonful to her lips, humming in delight.

“So, going on a date with Hunter, huh?”

For the second time that morning, she chokes on her cereal. Gus laughs at her as he enters the dining room.

"It is not, and keep your voice down," She sputters as her cheeks flush, lowering her voice, "He might hear you."

He rolls his eyes. "I doubt it. Ya know, because he's so excited for your date," He smirks, whispering "date" as if it's forbidden. "He specifically asked for you. It's a date."

Her blush deepens, "Stop it. It's not—he wouldn't—"

"Okay~" His eyes soften, "Date or not—which it is by the way—just have fun, alright? You've been working hard lately; you deserve to take a break and enjoy the Human realm too."

"Thanks, Gus," She finishes her cereal, moving to the kitchen sink to clean up. "I'm sure I will, but we're just running errands. How much fun can we possibly have?" She asks rhetorically.

Turns out, a lot. They can have a lot of fun.

The funny thing is, they've barely done anything, and Willow's never enjoyed the Human realm like this before.

An hour on the dot, they bundle up, Willow doing a last minute check and asking if they need anything. With Mrs. Noceda at work and Vee at school, she fights to keep a straight face as the rest of the squad exchange suggestive eyes and knowing grins (because of course they got the wrong idea), allowing Hunter to take the lead as they walk into town. One of Mrs. Noceda’s tote bags is slung over his shoulder, stuffed to the brim with books, and she can’t help but laugh as he adjusts the strap with a huff.

("Do you want me to—"

"I got it!")

The trek into town is fairly quiet but not awkward. She never took him for idle chat but as they stroll down the street, Hunter slowing down enough to keep pace with her, he points out the weird yet fascinating human contraptions, putting in more effort to make conversation than usual. He stammers and rambles, but she can't say she minds it, enjoying his voice as she makes her own comments about what little she's seen of Luz’s world.

It's peaceful, and she relishes in the cool, autumn air brushing the pink apples of her cheeks.

But as the day goes on, she wonders, is this a date???

Since the day they met, Hunter—while he can go on tangents—seems like a goal-oriented person, at least that’s her first assumption. It’s further confirmed when Luz showed them the wonders of human realm video games, and (after hours of practicing the controls) during his turn he refused to explore the digital, free-roam world or take side-quests until he completed every main mission. Whatever’s endgame, he’d see it through before anything else. No distractions.

But as they round the corner, instead of making a beeline for the Gravesfield Public Library just down the street like she thought he would, he makes a sharp turn and ushers her into a quaint, little coffee shop, asking what she’d like to try. Too startled to question him, she picks a pretty green colored drink, something called a “mat-cha” latte. Hunter orders himself what he calls “brown bean blood”.

(“Sir, do you mean coffee?”

“No, I said brown bean blood.”)

Once he hands the cashier neatly folded human money (how did he get human money??), they leave with their drinks warming their hands as they amble towards the library.

As soon as he returns the books, he asks her if they can browse. Of course she says yes; she has literally no where else to be, and she figures he needs to find new research material for the week, so they find a table to set their things down. He’s so kind, she thinks, appreciating how he points out a few sections she might enjoy like the decorated rows of YA books. They split off, and she wanders around until she takes his suggestion, pulling books from the YA shelves to glance their synopsis.

At some point in her literary endeavors, she happens upon Hunter in the plant section, flipping through a thick book with an expression she’s only seen when they’re slaving over history books and (stolen) old texts from the Gravesfield Historical Society. His brow is furrowed and lips pursed, as if deep in concentration. He must be because he only notices her once she whispers his name, squeaking as her voice brushes his neck. He fumbles to catch the textbook.

On human realm plants.

Why?

Before she can ask, he slams the book shut, tucking it under his arm and asking if she found anything she wants to check out.

She perks up; she did, holding out a book thicker than her forearm, a hardcover of beautiful human art and design. Based on the summary in the sleeve, it sounds romantic while chock full of adventure. Her favorite.

He guides her to the self-checkout counter, and she giggles as he makes a big show of whisking out a rectangular piece of plastic. Human realm magic, she awes as Hunter scan’s their books, a line of light roaming over the book’s barcode with a small beep. This isn’t his first time at the library. She’s impressed.

Done with the library, they head outside, books tucked away in the bag, but instead of walking back, Hunter steers her to sit at the nearby bus stop, saying he wants to show her something. The bench is cool under her and her half finished matcha latte is lukewarm in her palm now. She doesn’t mind though, waiting for this “bus”. It’s nice just being around Hunter, who buzzes in his seat next to her even after they board the human contraption, his knee jumping with what she assumes to be excitement and anticipation. But as the bus starts, she notices they’re heading away from the Noceda house.

“Ummm, Hunter?” She frowns as the library shrinks in the distance.

He watches the digital clock of the bus. “Yeah?”

“Is this supposed to take us home?”

“What? Oh,” He whirls to her, face burning as he realizes he should have been more specific. “Sorry, the bus isn’t what I wanted to show you. Not that it’s not fascinating—I’ll definitely ask Luz more about it later—but this is a bit further from the library. I promise it’ll worth your while though.”

She gives him a reassuring smile, “Ahhh, I understand.” She doesn’t. As the library disappears into the horizon, the sun high and the sky less cloudier than that morning, her head spins as her mind runs a mile a minute because is this a date????

She sips at her latte, mulling over it. No, it can’t be. Right?

He did specifically ask for her.

Boy’s been sheltered almost his entire life. She’s not sure if he even knows what a date is.

Then again, he bought her a drink and introduced her to human realm fiction.

But this is Hunter, she’s talking about! He wouldn’t be into her, not like that. He’s the former Golden Guard, a prince, a—

“Captain, we’re here.”

Startled, she scrambles to follow as he weaves between the few boarded passengers with a certain level of grace that she could only assume comes from years of military training. They hop off the last step, her boots meeting cobblestone, and she straightens her clothes.

“Tada!” He gestures in front of them, beaming wide enough she can see his tooth gap. A low building stretches not too far up the road, vines snaking up its old marble walls and lovely flower bushes of all kinds lining the cobblestone walkway leading up to the entrance. On display out front, similar to the Historical Society, a simple but polished sign reads—

Gravesfield Botanical Gardens.

“I… Wha—”

“I know you’ve been homesick for a while now so, I asked Luz and Mrs. Noceda if there were any public gardens around and they told me about this place. It was hard to figure out the bus system and scheduling the best time—luckily it’s a weekday so they close late—but I thought this might cheer you up,” Hunter explains, pulling out the plant encyclopedia to show her, “I even studied a bit to try and keep up with you,” he adds with a weak chuckle. His heart hammers in his chest, and he worries it’s about to hop out and flop to the ground if Willow keeps gawking at him. He bites his lip; not in front of his captain.

She blinks as her lips close and part like a fish out of water.

Since they arrived in the human realm, all she thought about was how her dads are—how everyone is really; if Gus’s doing okay, reassuring Luz, supporting Amity and Vee if needed. And when they no longer needed her reassurance, she focused her energy into researching a way to get back home. Outside of studying human realm plants in her spare time, her research skills are abysmal by comparison, but Hunter seemed to appreciate her support nonetheless, letting her (try to) stay up late with him, always her own mug of warm honey milk ready by the time she came down to the living room.

If he noticed her self-avoidance, he said nothing, and a part of her appreciated that.

But more so, rather than making a huge deal out of it, forcing an emotionally charged conversation out of her, he tried to lift her spirits.

She recalls Gus’s talk that morning, ‘Date or not—which it is by the way—just have fun, alright? You've been working hard lately; you deserve to take a break and enjoy the Human realm too.’

You’re wrong, Gus. It’s not a date.

Mistaking her silence, the hopeful glint in his eyes fizzles out and she nearly screams when he deflates, “Sorry. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to your garden back home—oof!” He looks down, blinking as she burrows her face into his shoulder, “Captain?”

“It’s perfect,” She hugs him a little tighter and he grunts. As if trying not to scare away a stray cat, he slowly wraps his arms around her, his hands feather light as he pats her back.

She wants to cry. For a boy who’s been deprived of physical affection most of his life, something so simple and small shouldn’t feel this nice.

Before she sinks into him further, she pulls back and gives him a wobbly smile. “Thank you, I just—” She clears her throat. Get it together, Willow. “I really needed this.”

He nods, dazed and tomato-faced, “O-oh, yeah, of course.”

“Come on,” Her smile stretches into a grin as she loops her arm with his, leading the way. He clutches the book to his chest. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned!”

Yes, he’s the former Golden Guard. Yes, he’s a prince.

But he’s also her friend.

And as she drags him through the gardens, flipping through the textbook between them like a catalog, that is more than enough.

(For now.)

⏤

“So how was your date?”

“Not a date!!”

⏤

The last, most notable time it happens, they’re back in the Demon realm, or at least, what's left of it. If she thought the Human realm was upside down, this place is both upside down and backwards, remnants of the Boiling Isles scattered about like debris. The relief of their return quickly passes.

Now, they have to find The Collector.

And they do.

What was once a home welcoming outcasts and weirdos now stands a twisted rendition of the Owl House. It levitates midair, chunks of its towers and the surrounding land orbiting like planets to a sun, nestled between lightning spitting clouds as water rises from the ground.

With the help of their palismens, it’s easier breaking into the floating fortress than it is navigating within, a labyrinth of moving walls, stairs leading to nowhere, and doors going into places that shouldn't be there. Not to mention beasts birthed from what she thinks are children’s drawings, colorful, disfigured ink creatures worse than any abomination she made when she was in the track. Hunter barely snagged the back of her shirt before she could fall into a pool of paint, and her eyes burned green as she used a barrage of vines to decimate a monster, before it could consume Hunter.

Willow hopes the others are fairing better than them as they leave a trail of vines and scorch marks in their wake.

The idea is to meet at the top of the tower, clustered by squirming wooden Hooties like a rat’s nest, where The Collector most likely is keeping King and Eda. Slowly, they climb the tower floor by floor, slaying doodled beasts while keeping an eye out for the other. The Collector might try to separate them. That's the last thing they want.

They’re in the midst of battle, stuck in a long, dark hallway with seemingly no end as monsters bubble up from the floor like water. In a mess of green vines and gold flashes, they’re not sure what floor they’re on now—they lost count what feels like ages ago—but the walls groan and vibrate harder, louder, and Willow meets Hunter’s eyes, exhausted but hopeful, thinking the same thing.

They’re close.

She struggles to catch her breath. Her muscles ache, her eyes burn, and her heart hurts. Her magic is draining quick, and at the rate they’re going she’s not sure if she’ll have any left by the time they reach the top.

If they get to the top, a small, darker part of her hisses.

She shakes her head. They have to. For King. For Eda. For everyone.

Once again, with a wave of her hands she conjures two fist-sized spell circles, trying to conserve what little magic she has left. She feels the seeds buried within the walls and the floorboards, old but ripe for the picking.

Another monster lunges for her, and she does what she does best. Thin but thorny vines burst from below.

It’s as she turns another beast to puddles when she glances back at Hunter. And at the monster coming up from behind, unhinging its jaw to the floor, ready to swallow him whole.

Up until this point, Hunter’s held his own, masterfully spinning Flapjack’s staff in his hands as they plowed through monster after monster. But he’s breathing hard, his skin gleaning with sweat. There’s even blood dripping from a gash on his shoulder, probably from losing speed. He’s slowing down. Phasing must’ve took a lot of him if he’s resorted to other, more common forms of magic.

Which is how she knows he won’t dodge in time.

Her feet move faster than her mouth as she shouts his name. He meets her eyes for a split second before looking up, too late as the roof of the monster’s mouth looms over him.

Gritting her teeth, she casts a spell circle as wide as the narrow corridor, using as much magic as she can in the seconds it takes for her to barrel into Hunter’s side. Wood splinters, thick vines shoot through the cracks, and her vision grows dark as they clasp under and around them like a fist.

A beat of silence.

Then a sickening squelch and splash, and after a moment, the vines—fatal and thorny and dripping with monster goop—unfurl. Hunter squints as his eyes adjust to the light. “What—?”

She groans.

“Captain,” Hunter gasps, scrambling to his knees as he gently rests her head in his lap.

“I’m fine. Just-just give me minute,” She pants, sweat beading her forehead. She opens her eyes, wanting to reassure him, only to hiss and press her face into his stomach at the bright light.

Hunter grimaces, glancing at Willow, to the puddles of monster goo scattered on the floor and walls, and to the exit door as her breathes come ragged. He’s got that expression, she realizes, peaking up at his side profile. His brow is furrowed, and his scar shifts as his jaw clenches. She can practically see the dozens of calculations running through his mind.

As she opens her mouth, ready as she’ll ever be, he gathers her in his arms.

She blinks, “Hunter, what’re you—” She squeaks as she’s easily lifted off the floor, her face bright red.

Before she can wallow in her embarrassment, he's already kneeling down, careful as he rests her against the least messiest wall. “Stay here.”

She jerks back. “What?”

“You’re staying here. I’ll go ahead without you,” He grinds out, expression pained like it physically hurts.

“No, you’re not. I can still fight.”

“You’re almost out of magic.”

“You’re not fairing any better—”

“Willow.”

She looks at him incredulously, and he gazes back. The dark circles under his eyes improved immensely while they were in the Human realm, but in the short time they’ve been in the Demon realm, they’ve returned with a vengeance.

“I don’t get it. Why–wha–” She stutters, hurt and confused, unsure of what to ask. How to argue.

His mouth parts and closes as tired eyes shift from one place to another, like he’s trying to find an answer in the woodwork. He lets out a shaky breath, “If this fight is going the way I think it’s going, I’d rather The Collector kill me than you. Any of you.”

Before she can interrupt, he shakes his head. “And no, this has nothing to do with an identity crisis or whatever—I’ve come to terms with who I was and who I am now—this is just facts…” He meets her eyes, and she’s taken aback as they gleam with conviction.

Down the hall, the door leading to the next room thrums awake.

As if it’s their last, he hugs her, his chin resting on her shoulder as arms wrap around her, gentle and firm. It’s the best hug he’s ever given her.

“They can make another me, but they can’t make another you.”

Her breath hitches.

“Willow, if this is the last time we see each other, I just want you to know,“ He pulls back, not noticing the way his words knock the wind out of her. Exhausted as he is, his eyes crinkle as he smiles, wide enough to show off his tooth gap. “It was an honor to be in your life.”

Just like that, he stands, turning his back to her. Her mind freezes as she hears the clack of his boots grow distant as if in slow motion.

How—how dare he! She wants to scream, cry, throw a tantrum—maybe that’ll stop him—but her body refuses to move, her head a jumble of thoughts as anger and sorrow rises within her all at once.

He can’t bench me! Who does he think he is?

I’m in no condition to fight.

She thinks about every time she was ready to throw down, he was there. He had her back no matter to circumstances. Now, as her shoulders slump in defeat, watching Hunter come to a halt, eyeing the glowing door suspiciously, she can’t even follow after him.

An “honor”? What a joke. More like disgrace.

Her head aches as every memory runs through her mind like a film reel on fast-forward, remembering how much she’s learned to lean on him. How much she’s learned about him. From his little quirks to his odd hobbies. He’s considerate, intuitive, and passionate about learning.

He gazed steadily, as if he truly believed his words.

'They can make another me.’

Her throat closes. She swallows.

Another him?

“No!” Before he can grab the doorknob, with a strangled cry, her eyes burn as she conjures a small spell circle, using up the last of her magic to summon.

A vine grapples him to the floor and he grunts, turning on his back. Willow looms over him, green eyes aglow, tears welling like dewdrops as she falls to her knees beside him. “I don’t care that you’re a-a copy. I don’t care who you were made after. I care about you,” Her eyes dim, though they don’t lose their shine as she sobs, voice cracking, “So don’t ever say that. Don’t you ever say that because you’re wrong.”

Hunter blinks up at her, taken aback; in the brief months he’s known her, she’s never raised her voice at him. Not like this.

“There can never be another you. And if there was, I wouldn’t want another one.”

She misses the look Hunter gives her as she weeps and hiccups, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, no longer holding back the tears. They trail down her cheeks, drip down her chin, and her nose is getting stuffed. She's too drained to care.

She hears Hunter shift as he sits up. When she opens her eyes, he’s tugging off his gloves—scuffed and worn from battle, stained with the goo of their enemies—only for him to reach out and wipe her tear-stained cheeks with scarred, calloused hands. She lets him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” He reassures her, his voice thick and raspy. He doesn’t even have the sense to feel embarrassed of the intimacy behind the action. His captain’s crying. He just wants to make her feel better.

She sniffles, giving him a pointed look through the tears, “Don’t apologize. Just promise you’ll never say anything like that again.”

“Okay, I promise,” He nods hurriedly, a little scared.

A little more in love.

In front of them, the door glows, pulsating with a magic that makes the hair on her neck stand on end, and once they recover, side by side they step forward as Hunter pushes the door open.

⏤

“Are you ready?”

“I’m right behind you.”

⏤

Willow’s not sick. Unless you count lovesickness as an illness.

(The human version. Not the Demon realm’s lovesickness. Because that would be a bad thing.)

But there's still work to be done, so she sets it aside.

Until now.

Months after teaching the child god a lesson, most of the Demon realm goes back to their daily lives, witches and demons going back to work, school resuming its normal schedule. Even students are relieved to be back in class as life goes back to normal.

Except for the coven system.

It’s undergone huge changes with the help of the new council, consisting of some of the previous coven heads like Raine and Darius.

And Hunter, she smiles, cheeks warming.

He’s been busy lately, going to school with them during the day, all the while taking part in council meetings as an unofficial member. Proposing new laws, rewriting old ones, advocating for “wild” magic, a term that eventually loses its meaning. Darius complains he doesn’t need “Little Prince” backseat-delegating for him.

“I know it’s not my fault, but the least I can do is try,” he told her once, still feeling somewhat responsible for the mess Belos left behind. He intends to fix the monster’s mistakes one by one, and he has.

It’s slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

With so much going on in everyone’s lives, they haven’t seen each other outside of school and flyer derby practice to her dismay. But for the first time in what feels like forever they’ll be hanging out together as a squad, somewhere that’s not on school grounds or video-chatting. She's excited. She should be excited.

So why is she sweating bullets?

With pursed lips, she smooths out the white skirt of her dress. She’s the first to arrive, her boots clacking against the cobblestone bridge connecting the outer and inner rings of Bonesburough—a halfway point between where everyone lives—the clear water below calm with no bubbles in sight. Around this time of year, the waters within the city limits cool enough to a comfortable, lukewarm temperature, allowing the rare winter flora to bloom.

She can’t explain it, but she thinks winter’s her new favorite season.

Minutes pass, and she perks up every time a figure draws near, only to deflate when she sees another stranger pass by. She frowns; she’s not that early, is she…

As she’s about to check the time on her scroll, it pings several times at once and she pulls up the message notification. All from Amity, Gus, and Luz, all the same variation of:

Hey—

Something came up—

Sorry, can’t make it—

Disheartening as it is, plans fall through, so she’s not too broken up about it, but her eyes bug out of her head when she reads:

Good luck ;)

She blinks once, twice. If they’re not coming, that means…

“Hey!” With a small “eek!”, she spins on her heel as Hunter bends over, his tooth gap whistling as he tries to catch his breath. He offers her a small smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s only been a few minutes,” She waves him off.

He sighs in relief, glancing around, “Great, so—um—where’s the others?”

“Apparently, Matt needed Gus for an emergency, and Luz and Amity had to go see Mrs. Noceda for something,” she explains as her scroll dissipates. She tugs at the cuff of her sleeve. “But they said to have fun without them.”

“Oh, okay,” He bites his lip, withholding his excitement. He motions towards the inner city, and with a polite tone, “After you, Captain.”

She giggles, thanking him as they head to the shopping district.

They don’t have a plan as they keep in step with each other. Conversation ebbs and flows like water; sometimes they’re enjoying each other's presence, other times they're loudly debating on flyer derby strategies or the color beige. They talk about anything, really, about important updates in their lives to stupid small things like Flapjack making a nest out of Hunter’s old notes.

They find themselves in the market district at some point, and Hunter offers to pay when they stop at an iscream stall. She refuses, he insists, and contrary to the cool, shrieking dessert she bites the head off of, it's a warm reminder of the day he took her to the Gravesfield Botanical Gardens, the first of their many hangouts. Slow to finish her latte then. Slow to finish her iscream now.

Time passes quick, and before she realizes, they’ve come full circle back to the meet up spot as they sit on the short, stone walls of the bridge, finishing off their cups.

“This was nice,” She says before taking another scoop. The iscream has since stopped its tortured cries.

“Yeah, I missed hanging out with you,” Hunter tenses, tips of his ears pink as if they’ll blow off, “—guys! You guys. Too bad they couldn’t come. Not that I don’t enjoy being alone with you! You’re—um—”

“Thanks, Hunter.”

“You’re welcome, Captain.”

They settle into a comfortable silence as they enjoy their snack, but as Willow continues, she can feel Hunter glancing at her every ten seconds, his knee jumping.

She sighs, “Hunter?”

“Y-yes?”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No? What makes you think that?”

“You’re staring. And your iscream’s melted.”

He looks at the paper cup, “Oh…”

She sets her cup beside her. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know! I know,” His eyes soften at her, and she wants to shout, yell that she'd literally give her eyes and ears if he asked. “It’s just—there’s something I need to tell you.”

She turns her attention to him. “Okay…”

Taking a deep breath, he starts, “You know I’ve been busy with the council and fixing the coven system and going to school,” She nods, “Darius has been talking about traveling to other islands, and I've never been outside the Boiling Isles so…" He trails off, scratching his scar. "He offered to take me with him."

Her heart stops. "Oh."

"Yeah," His brow scrunches at her lack of response.

"I mean oooh! That-that's great!" Shaking her stupor, she tries to smile, "Is it just for fun or…?"

"Sort of. We'll be acting as some sort of ambassadors, studying other kingdoms and republics and sending reports back to Raine and the others. Not much different from what we've been doing now to be honest, but Darius says there's a lot we can learn from them."

“Cool, cool.” Not cool. Not cool at all!! In her head, she screaming, rolling on the floor in a panic. “So when do you leave?”

He thinks about it, “Once I finish this semester, but that’s if I—”

“What?” Her heart picks up speed, her voice rising as she argues, “He can't wait till you finish the school year? Or maybe even after graduation?”

He shrugs, her panic flying over his head. “I’ve had private tutors for most of my life. Technically, I don’t need school.”

She sputters, “But what about the Entrails? What am I supposed to do without my best flyer?”

“You guys were fine without me before—”

“That’s not the point!” Hunter’s brow shoots up as she stands, “What about your friends and family? You just made friends your own age and your family’s here: the team, Gus and Amity, Luz and Eda—”

“Well, yeah—”

“And me!”

His ears perk up. Heat crawls up her neck and across her face, and realizing what she's doing, she sits back down with a groan, "I'm sorry, this isn't how I wanted to do this. I shouldn't be trying to change your mind."

"I just really like you," She babbles without thinking, her face completely on fire now as stares at the ground, unable to look at him, “And it's hard to imagine my life without you, but if that’s what you really want then you have my full support—”

“Wait, say that again.”

She picks her head up, just wanting to curl up in bed. “You have my full support?”

“No, the other thing,” Hunter shakes his head, his forelock swishing.

“It’s hard to imagine my life without you?”

“No, before that.”

Her cheeks puff up and she’s blushing all over again. “I really like you?”

Her dress wrinkles in her fists as she squirms under his gaze. He’s so close, his eyes—more pink than wine as the sun begins to set—blinking owlishly. She’s not sure if he’s breathing, to be frank. And just when she thinks he’s about to reject her—

“I’m not going.”

She tilts her head as if she heard him wrong. “Huh?”

“I never accepted the offer,” He says. “I’ve got a pretty good thing going here. Be a shame to just leave all that now.

“…Right.”

“Eda and Raine would miss me around the house. Can’t have Luz and King turning my room into a play room either.”

“Of course, of course.”

“And I definitely can’t leave the Emerald Entrails. How else are we supposed to get to nationals, right?”

She snorts, “Okay, now hold on—”

“I still have to tell the captain how I feel too,” She pauses, and his red face reflects her own. “Also I’m pretty sure she’d drag me underground if I tried to leave.”

He gives her a loopy grin as she guffaws.

“So, I’m not leaving any time soon,” he finishes.

Once her laughter dies down, she looks at him, uncertain. “And you’re not just saying that because I confessed to you?”

“I made my decision long before this conversation. You just happen to beat me to the punch,” He pouts.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work on your timing later,” she teases as she nudges him with her shoulder.

He shoves her back, their shoulders brushing as they smile shyly at one another. She’s not sure who moves first, but they lean forward, eyes closing and lips parting. Heart doing jumping jacks, she can feel the warm puff of his breath against her lips just as they—

“Omg finally!”

They jump back, and before either can register the joyous shrieks of their friends, they tip back and yelp, arms waving frantically.

And crash into river below.

But it’s okay, Willow thinks, her dress bellowing in the water like a blooming flower. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust.

The collar of Hunter’s white shirt unfolds as he hovers in front of her. He meets her gaze, and an air bubble escapes his tooth gap as he smiles at her.

Laughing, cupping a hand over her mouth before she loses any more air, bubbles floating around them like underwater stars, she doesn’t mind how he takes her breath away.

Because Hunter’s there to give it back.

#huntlow #winter toh #hunter x willow park #hunter wittebane x willow park #hunter clawthorne x willow park #hunter toh #hunter the owl house #toh hunter #the owl house hunter #willow park #willow park toh #willow park the owl house #the owl house willow park #toh willow park #this first time ive written anything in months and its the longest oneshot ive ever done AND for my new otp?? whoops :p #had a vivid image of hunter being a self-sacrificing little shit after Hollow Mind and this popped out #also i noticed an autistic hunter tag on ao3 and idk if thats based on canon or not BUT #i like to imagine if his hands arent terribly scarred he wears gloves bc he has a thing with textures or maybe hypersensitive to touch #bc ik i do and i. must project onto my comfort character :D #this is my first time writing for huntlow hopefully theyre not ooc

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