#i like to project onto my comfort characters

[allicat0]

hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal.  “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no. 

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer. 

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand. 

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before. 

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance. 

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second. 

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah.  .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home. 

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night. 

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you. 

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft. 

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay. 

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust. 

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you. 

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you. 

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said. 

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else. 

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”. 

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

#fanfiction #smut #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #Satoru gojo fic #gojo x reader smut #mdni #18+ mdni #jjk satoru

[lepetitloir]

They never leave, do they?

#vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #astolfo granatum #the drawing is based on my own experience with recovering from SA and emotional abuse #but please interpret it however you want! #me? projecting my issues onto the characters i like? wow! /sarcastic #not my best drawing but weirdly comforting to draw! #tw sa #(just in case) #my art

[softguarnere]

Okay no wait but have we ever considered Joe having dyslexia and no one ever realizing it until he starts dating Webster . . . Because that really opens up so many fic possibilities for Webster reading to him and I think we need that. Especially if it's Web who realizes that Joe has dyslexia

#sorry y'all I've been on my 'project the neurodivergency onto characters I like for comfort' idea train for days now #and I ain't gettin' off! choo choo!!!! #webgott #band of brothers #joe liebgott #david webster

[ohnomysoul]

I like him a normal amount (lying)

#This is just a doodle but meh i like it #sinclair lcb #lcb #emil sinclair #limbus company #sinclair #I headcanon him as chubby with some muscle from having to carry around his halberd #also hes a tank in game so he has to have some muscle to him #he’s also chubby cus im projecting onto him because comfort character and kinnie momence #my art

[flamemons]

sketches from like, july, until recently, ordered loosely by the date i drew it

#abril can draw sometimes #flamon #i need to clarify this bc idk i feel like ive gotten slightly more comfortable with drawing again sO woohoo progression #like the last picture here i drew a week or so ago #not gonna tag it as anything else bc theres a lot here #now if my ipad explodes i wont lose everything technically #unless this website explodes too i guess?? #can you guess what character i project way too much onto

[martyrbat]

batman: the abduction

[ID: Bruce Wayne shown in the foreground as he types and stares at the computer. Behind him, Alfred watches while looking mildly concern. He hesitantly proposes, “Erm... I hate to suggest it, sir—but you don't perhaps think you're suffering from some kind of delusion?” Bruce looks over his shoulder at him as he replies, “Delusion it may be, Alfred—but I'm far from alone in suffering it.” END ID]

#im a simple mentally ill bitch. i looovvveeee projecting onto my comfort characters <3 #delusions and psychosis be upon thee !! #also panel with a bit of context—alfred doesn't believe his story (about being abducted by aliens) and its kinda funny to me #given that two of bruces closest friends are aliens #like j'onn and clark just spitroasted him last tuesday! he had alien inside him! multiple times!! but this is where you think its farfetch? #c: batman: the abduction #crypt's panels #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #alfred & bruce

[glowingsand]

sleepyhead

#me projecting all of my pented up exhaustion onto this dude? more likely than you’d think #i need to draw kakashi whenever i draw something for another hyperfixation #peak comfort character #naruto #naruto shippuden #hatake kakashi #kakashi #maito gai #gai #kakagai #my art #digital art

[zibiscusloon]

Tried drawing the OG Gang in FNAF’s actual style, quickly remembered why I only draw them all in my actual style-

Anyways here’s Freddy cause he’s the only one who turned out decent-

#my art #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #freddy fazbear #shoutout to my og comfort character- #Freddy my beloved- #(no y’all don’t get how much lil me projected onto this BEAR-) #Bonnie turned out looking like shit when I tried this #I don’t even get what was going on with Chica she should’ve been the easiest- #I didn’t even try to finish Foxy-

[nonbinarylesbianherb]

i love writing alicent-centric rhaenicent fics and projecting onto alicent and rhaenyra just has to deal with her (my) (our) shit

#alicent hightower #alicent i love you! *projects my own trauma onto her* #the real ones know #nothing quite like adding some of your own spice to your favourite comfort kinnie literally me im literally her character #shes everything to me i love you alicent hightower #rhaenicent #projecting #mwhaaha

[parkeryangs]

train noises save me. save me train noises

#heard one going through town just now and GOD my heart is so full #grew up right next to train tracks & something about the sound is just. so familiar/comforting #a lot of people seem to actively dislike the sound esp at night? but i have a hard time sleeping w/o obviously #ironically though my tinnitus sounds a bit like trains sometimes in a Bad Way ssk thats. not good. but #finch chirps #rambling #anyway now that ive said this it's probably only a matter of time before i project it onto a fictional character

[djosephqueery]

The Steve Harrington that lives in my head is genderqueer.

Does he still use he/him because it’s convenient and he doesn’t mind it? Yeah.

Does he enjoy a little they/them sprinkled in every now and then? Hell yeah, all the gender euphoria.

They still wear the mom jeans and polos because that shit’s comfy goddammit.

Have they also been known to paint their nails? Absolutely . In fact, he always has at least a clear coat on and is just as finicky about his cuticles as he is his hair.

#projecting some of my own feelings on gender onto my comfort characters #at 3am on a worknight #like this is just me #but opposite #this is also not an original take #i just agree #genderqueer steve harrington #steve harrington #babygirl steve harrington

[boy-above]

an anon insinuated i have no female faves so here is an appreciation post for my favorite girlies in no particular order

#i love all of them but suigintou is one of my comfort characters #i will fully admit i post a lot more abt my male faves than my female faves #im a gay man and i love men and i love having characters to project my transness onto what can i say #that doesn't mean i dont like any women please be normal about it ):

[fandom-monium]

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

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

post m2 eddie

(poem by rus poet Boris Ryzhy)

#“how comfortable it is to die / to gaze into her eyes and - cry; and then to never ever die” #everyone experiences grief differently and i like to think about how different characters dealt with it #(i think carlo is probably my fav at this point? i think there's a lot of logic and coldness in his grief) #< i just decided to project onto him

[adastra121]

Touchstarved OC Relationship Charts

I made the relationship charts for my Touchstarved OCs!

More about their relationships with the Touchstarved LIs below!

Person who made these templates is @deiimi

Jin the Abandoned Alchemist

“Friendship is...a new venture for me. But I promise, I'll do my best!”

Likes Kuras — “You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you, doctor?” Admires Kuras for his skills as a doctor and his selflessness. Finds his presence very soothing, which is great because he is a ball of constant anxiety.

Jin and Kuras have a lot of similarities in some ways. They are both naturally curious, they both seek to help others, they are both introverted, and they are both avid readers.

Oh, and they’re both INFJs and earth signs.

Kuras seems like the kind of person Jin would like to read next to. He wonders what sort of books Kuras likes. Perhaps he would have some recommendations.

Conversation is never boring with Kuras. Jin loves to discuss alchemy, theories, and experiments that he’s pondered attempting with him.

Jin insists on helping Kuras around his clinic where he can, since he believes he owes the latter a life debt now.

He stops by to gift Kuras something every now and then, like some food or tea, because have you ever seen the doctor eat or, gods forbid, cook anything? He worries for Kuras sometimes, even though Kuras would say there’s nothing to concern himself over.

Close with Leander — “Something about you makes me want to be more than I am — and yet, whenever I’m with you, I feel like…I’m enough.” Jin’s never met anyone so friendly, generous, and brave. Leander makes him want to be brave, too.

He wholeheartedly believes Leander is a good person. A mage of that kind of power and he uses it to help people for free. He lives in Lowtown. He’s given a home to the Bloodhounds.

Leander strikes him as a kind, dazzling, and genuinely good person.

And more puzzlingly, he’s fearless. Offered to let Jin — a complete stranger — inflict his curse on him, even tie him up so Jin could feel safer.

Try as he might, Jin just can’t understand why Leander is so kind to him. His whole life, he’s never been enough just as he is. His curse — his existence — is a blight he’s always had to seek atonement for. Not even the mage who basically raised him thought otherwise.

So for someone so bright and fearless and good to offer everything he yearns for like he’s actually worthy of it…that feeling is addictive. Almost more addictive than the feeling of warm, trusting flesh and blood under his fingers.

He can’t let Leander down. It has to be different this time.

Dislikes Vere — “I never know what to expect with you. I’m still working out whether that’s good or bad.” Everything about Vere startles Jin. Not just because he’s a killer, but because of his shamelessness and Jin flusters easily.

Vere is a bit unpredictable to Jin and that makes him nervous.

Vere’s constant games and teasing will probably take some getting used to. As well as the flirting and the innuendoes.

Doesn’t know whether to take Vere seriously a lot of the time.

Most honest person you’ll ever meet if you don’t listen to a damn word he says. Jin’s starting to learn what that means.

It will take a while for Jin to warm up to Vere.

Likes/Dislikes Ais — “You are everything I have been warned against and you seem to have made it your life’s mission to piss me off at every turn! So why do I trust you?” Despite not knowing each other very long, Ais has somehow managed to push every one of Jin’s buttons. But he’s also honest, and that’s something Jin respects.

Ais challenges Jin in ways he isn’t used to, and he finds that both frustrating and frustratingly enlightening.

Ais is intriguing to Jin, unlike anyone he’s met before. His cool, relaxed, and honest demeanor — his entire character is so different from Jin, who is anxious, cautious, and constantly worried about not being a burden, not making his existence harder for others to deal with.

Jin has a bad habit of lying to himself — sometimes he doesn’t even realize it — so whether subconsciously or not, he finds Ais’s honesty refreshing and…safe. Jin feels oddly safe around him.

Ais feels like the eye of a storm. A moment of clarity in the midst of desolation.

In some ways, Jin finds the most freedom in Ais. He allows himself to get upset, to make demands, to say aloud the sarcastic comments often kept in his head. He allows himself to take up space in a way that he usually doesn’t and it terrifies him, because what if he likes it too much? What if he can’t go back to the way he used to be?

Likes Mhin — “Ah, are you busy? Sorry, I’ll try not to get in your way!” Mhin seems very reliable to Jin, but also very focused on their goal. Jin doesn’t want to bother them.

To Jin, they feel like a startled animal in an unfamiliar place. He’s very cautious around them, tries not to upset them.

Jin would leave Mhin alone for the most part, wait for them to approach him.

They’d probably end up with each other in a rowdy tavern, Mhin being a loner and Jin being a bit of a wallflower.

If they end up conversing, I think they’d bond over their interest in alchemical experiments.

Alon the Stray Hound

Likes Kuras — “I like you, Doc, maybe a bit too much. You know, you’re not giving me much incentive to avoid getting hurt.” Already liked and found him curious when they first met, but after discovering his mischievous streak? She wants to team up to pull the prank of the century.

Like Mhin, Alon admires his selflessness and how he helps the people of Lowtown, seemingly for free.

Kuras piques their curiosity. He’s graceful, mysterious, unshakable. They want to know if there’s anything more beneath that seemingly untouchable image.

He’s like an impenetrable safe they’re trying to crack. She doesn’t know what’s inside until it opens, but they’ve decided it’s worth the effort. There’s something invaluable in there, she just knows it. He’s a puzzle to them and they like puzzles.

Evading an angry Senobium cleric through Eridia’s labyrinth of a city with Kuras was the first time she felt at home since her old crew’s betrayal.

Likes Leander — “I’m no mage, but even I know you and I could make magic together.” Instantly clicked with him due to their similarities. There’s two of them now. And that’s everyone else’s problem.

Looking at both their relationship charts, it looks like they’re fighting for the Protagonist role.

Being the Hound, they’ve got good instincts and they know Leander is putting on a show most of the time. Alon’s not too worried because they’re also a performer — a jester who works and charms the crowd, both to survive and because they genuinely love it. So as far as Alon’s concerned, Leander can keep his secrets — at least, until it hurts others.

Look this is what happens when you put two people with a hero complex together okay they can end up being heroic against each other

They’re both magicians, though Leander does actual magic and Alon does sleight of hand.

Alon also probably had a Robin Hood thing going for them and their crew in the past.

Likes Vere — “You’re trouble, Foxy. I like that in a man.” Finds his assholery hilarious, shares his love for mischief and distaste for rules. The chain and collar plays right into her hero complex, though, so that might be concerning…

Loves to match Vere innuendo for innuendo. Vere’s insinuations tend to be more elegant, though, while Alon has a whole arsenal of “deez nuts” or “your mom” jokes.

Genuinely wants to help Vere out of his imprisonment, but how to make him see…

“I mean, yeah, so you killed some people — Not saying I condone it! — but the Senobium deals with that crime by…forcing you to kill people? Sheesh, and authorities call me an outlaw.”

Likes Ais — “Hey there, Soup Guardian. Guardian of the Soup. Ocudeus quivers before him.” Admires Ais’s straightforwardness and cool charisma. Thinks he’d be a loyal friend, or at the very least, a fun drinking buddy.

I don’t think Alon would be romantically attracted to Ais. They’d find Ais attractive, though. Like, they have eyes.

Would visit Ais to chat or play with Princess and the other Soulless creatures.

Finds his calm presence grounding, and likes that he listens to them ramble on about whatever pops into her mind at the moment.

Would join him in a bar brawl. Would help him start one, would help him end one.

Loves to banter with him since they’re both sarcastic little shits.

Okay, I’ll give him a serious quote from them: “Let me know if you need someone to take Princess out for a walk! I’m your guy.”

Likes Mhin — “You helped me, now I’ve got your back! So what d’ya say? You with me, partner?” Finds them interesting, cute and fun to fluster. Wants to get to know them better.

Remember when I said she likes puzzles? Mhin is a sort of puzzle to them, too. Full of odd contradictions and pieces that don’t fit together. They are lonely and they need help, but they insist on doing everything on their own. They say they don’t care, but they keep helping her. What’s their deal?

They find Mhin fun. Fun to figure out, fun to fluster, fun to chat with.

Mhin strikes Alon as lonely and in need of a friend — maybe it’s their hero complex saying to lend a hand or maybe it’s because they’re in the same spot, but Alon wants to reach out to them.

She believes they share the same goals. Of course, Mhin doesn’t have to accept her ambitious propositions of teaming up to pull a Senobium heist, but she can’t shake this hopeful feeling around them — that if they worked together, maybe neither of them would be alone anymore.

I did not intend to make them Mhin’s foil in my playthrough but um. So far…

They are both cursed. They are both newcomers to Eridia. They are both seeking to get into the Senobium. They are both lonely.

Alon is charming and outgoing and always seeking to make new friends, even if she ends up getting hurt. Mhin is the opposite, pushing people away to protect themselves, prevent themselves or others from getting hurt.

Mhin is sullen and short-tempered whereas Alon is optimistic and hard to ruffle. Though I guess that’s already evident in how she likes everyone already.

Mhin is blunt and straightforward — they have their secrets, but this is the vibe I get from them. They’re usually honest with their feelings, emotionally constipated as they seem. Alon is also emotionally constipated but in a completely different direction. She deflects and covers up their unpleasant feelings and other uncomfortable topics with jokes like it’s an Olympic sport and she’s the defending champion.

Alon is adventurous, impulsive and adaptive. They thrive in change and chaos, but deep down, they crave stability and a home. Meanwhile, Mhin strikes me as someone who prefers the security of the familiar, when they need a change.

Their fighting styles would be so different. It’s like earthbending vs airbending (if any of you guys are ATLA fans). I think Mhin has a very efficient and precise method of taking down enemies. They make every strike count and they don’t hesitate. Alon, on the other hand, likes playing tricks, using traps and diversions, discombobulating and dancing around their enemies. Mhin is a hunter, Alon is a thief — her goal isn’t usually to take down her opponents, it’s to escape or avoid direct engagement. Not that they can’t fight — they did grow up on the streets — but Alon will always choose to sweet talk, confuse, incapacitate, or run where they can.

Alon’s colour is orange to contrast Mhin’s blue. Similar to how Leander’s green contrasts against Ais’s red and Kuras’s yellow contrasts Vere’s purple. And although I wish I could say otherwise, it is completely unintentional. I wanted to give Alon a bright colour that stood out from the others because that’s their character. They are bright and colourful and fun.

Alon’s colour scheme is semi-inspired by the sun (bright orange, yellow, and pinks like the sunset) and Mhin’s colours more closely resemble the moon.

I just think this is cute. Mhin likes stargazing. Alon has freckles. And you know how there’s always poems and metaphors about freckles being constellations on skin?

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved vn #touchstarved oc #alon the hound #jin the alchemist #my ocs #oc #my oc #original character #something about Jin and Ais’s story gives me queer vibes…I don’t know I might have projected onto Jin way too much #I think Leander's supposed to feel more comforting and Ais is meant to be the opposite #but I find it interesting after exploring their potential relationship Ais’s route might be the most validating and comforting for Jin #in a different way than Leander’s of course but there’s something cathartic about being able to accept the worst parts of yourself #or what you perceive to be the worst parts of yourself anyway because they’re the parts you’ve been taught to hate #so yeah still trying to decide whether I should do Ais’s or Leander’s route first with Jin #Alon and Leander both liking everyone and being close to no one XD #well the thing is I decided to make the charts based on the initial impressions or at least the extent of their interactions in the demo #so alon doesn’t consider themself close to anyone yet #whereas jin immediately feels close to leander because leander’s the first person jin was able to touch #alon would find that incredibly special about her relationship to Leander but it wouldn’t necessarily put him ABOVE the others you know? #the potential to grow close is there for all of them #red spring studio

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

This whole saga begins with this post.

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Content warnings for perceived rejection, misunderstandings, and self-depreciating thoughts. If you struggle with similar issues or are in a bad headspace, consider skipping this one.

--

With a twitch of his elytra Scar swooped lower and banked to come around to the back of Grian's base, grinning and clutching the creeper hiss horn tighter in his hand. He could see a glimpse of his target's head bent over a multitude of chests, Grian's attention held by whatever he was searching for. As Scar landed on the planks as quietly as he could, he heard indistinct words from someone in a voice that wasn't Grian's. Two victims for the price of one? Even better.

" - ust don't put me with Scar, please."

Scar froze in place behind a column, moving further behind it as Grian turned his head to the side to look at the communicator laying on top of another chest.

"Are you sure?" came Scott's voice over the communicator speakers. "Like - to clarify, are we talking 'I'd rather be with anyone else ell-oh-ell jay kay'? Or are we talking - "

"No, this is a serious, official request," said Grian, pulling what sounded like a handful of bamboo out of the chest and contemplating it for a moment. "I can't do it, Scott. It's different being around him here at home, but after all of...that..."

Oh. Scar slipped the goat horn into his inventory and leaned heavily against the column while Grian went back to rummaging, not trusting himself to be able to get back up if he let himself slide to the floor. He knew it was something he would have to face sooner or later - had known it for a while. But sensing Grian's steadily increasing withdrawal from him and preparing himself for it didn't compare to actually facing it.

"I understand," said Scott sympathetically. "Are you sure that will affect MCC, though? You might be an absolute menace, Grian, but you've always been good at putting emotions aside for the sake of professionalism."

"Yeah, I - It's just getting to be too much, you know? And what if Build Mart gets chosen? You know how I am with that. And I was watching his debut. I know he thinks he wants to play it with me on his team, but god, Scott - "

"Ouch, yeah. Well, all of the requests are confidential," said Scott, "so if you're really certain. Is this a permanent request, or...?"

Grian closed the chest lid with a sigh. "I don't know," he said, and as hard as Scar was finding it to breathe and ignore the painful tightness in his ribcage, he didn't miss how sad Grian sounded - or the welling desire to drop everything and comfort him, to find any way he could to bring a smile to Grian's lips. "Let's call it a standing request for now."

"Got it," answered Scott. "So then! Any requests for who you do want?"

Scar snuck to the edge of the floor and stepped off, waiting until the last possible moment to activate a rocket and praying he was far enough away for Grian to not hear it. Of course you've gone and finally driven him away, he thought ruefully. Grian's amazing at MCC, he doesn't deserve having to babysit someone who can't even follow a template without choking under pressure. And he did just have to put up with my stupidity against his will in the most recent Life game, and blamed himself for losing when it was clearly because I can't...I can't...

His train of thought crumbled as he landed in the workspace under the theme park roads, all sense of coherency devolving into a vortex of every mistake he had ever made, every time his energy had been too much to handle, every disappointment he had subjected the people he loved to because of his own incompetence.

Through blurred vision Scar made his way to the makeshift sleeping quarters in his workspace and curled up under the blankets. Please don't stop looking at me, he had almost asked Grian in another world through a haze of pain and healing potions. He grimaced at the recollection of such a selfish request, before shoving it aside and seeking out the reprieve of slumber instead.

#projecting onto fictional characters? in MY fanfiction? it's more likely than you think! #buckle up kids the next installment will probably hurt worse #we're taking the scenic route to the comfort part of hurt/comfort #also there's going to be a lot more season 9 content between the previous part and this one on the AO3 version #i just had to get the brain worm out #scarian #hermitshipping #file: storm writes things