fairytalesandfolklore

Hunter isn’t sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, “I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me” — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn’t stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months. Or: the one where Hunter and Willow are college roommates who have secretly been in love with each other since freshman year of high school. They’re just moving in together, it’s no big deal. Surely this won’t change anything between them.

"Don't play dumb with me," Luz retorts, but there's no bite to her words, only giddy excitement. "I found this in one of your books, Hunter. I'd know your handwriting anywhere." She lets the note labeled W.P.P. + H.W.W. fall into his lap, and Hunter picks it up to examine it, eyes growing wide with horror. "That's not mine!" he splutters, but the steady blush pooling in the hollows of his cheeks says otherwise. "Those could be anyone's initials!" "Except it's clearly Willow Paulina Park, isn't it, Hunter William Wittebane?" Luz challenges with a victorious smirk. Hunter swallows thickly. "And you," she says, turning her interrogation on her best friend. "After all the notes we passed in class…I suppose you're going to try to tell me that you didn't write this?" Luz hands Willow the slip of paper with the words Hunter & Willow written in curling calligraphy, the little heart-shaped border brimming with flowers and vines so obviously her signature style. Willow's heart skips several beats.

Hunter isn’t sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, “I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me” — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn’t stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months. Or: the one where Hunter and Willow are college roommates who have secretly been in love with each other since freshman year of high school. They’re just moving in together, it’s no big deal. Surely this won’t change anything between them.

The words fall out of his mouth before he can think to stop them. "What if I was your boyfriend?" Willow chokes on her tea, spluttering around a mouthful of what's supposed to be soothing sleepy-time chamomile as she turns her wide-eyed gaze on Hunter. "What?" she asks, soft and disbelieving. "Uh, I mean—" Hunter falters, blush creeping up the back of his neck like a heatwave. "What if I pretended to be your boyfriend?" he quickly course-corrects. "Came by the shop at closing time and walked you home every night? I know you're more than capable of handling yourself, but everyone needs a little backup sometimes. I could be that for you. Keep you company on your walk home." Willow blinks a few times, giving her whiplashed heart a moment to catch up. "You would do that for me?" she asks softly. "Of course," he says automatically, leaving no room for doubt as he leans in a little bit closer, draping his arms across the back of the couch and tucking his chin into the curve of his elbow, gazing up at her with that soft, something-close-to-smitten look he always seems to reserve just for her. "I'd do anything for you."

Hunter isn’t sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, “I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me” — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn’t stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months. Or: the one where Hunter and Willow are college roommates who have secretly been in love with each other since freshman year of high school. They’re just moving in together, it’s no big deal. Surely this won’t change anything between them.

The world stills, and Hunter exhales on a soft, languid sigh, heady concoction of sunlit serenity and dizzying adrenaline thrumming in his veins as he gazes at her, allowing himself this brazen, stolen moment to look without shame, without worrying whether he'll give himself away, bashful blushing be damned. There's a soft intake of breath, and then Willow is glancing up at him, dulcet smile spreading across her lips like he's the sunrise on her favorite day, bright green eyes filled with something Hunter lets himself hope is the start of what he's been feeling for her all these years. She's brilliant and beautiful and clever and kind, hard-earned strength wrapped in softened edges, a living reminder that there's still good in the world, and Hunter knows he doesn't deserve her…but maybe, just for this moment, he can let himself have this anyway.

Hunter isn’t sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, “I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me” — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn’t stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months. Or: the one where Hunter and Willow are college roommates who have secretly been in love with each other since freshman year of high school. They’re just moving in together, it’s no big deal. Surely this won’t change anything between them.

Early Christmas morning sharp at the crack of 7AM, Luz bolts out of bed and comes racing down the stairs, eager to start the holiday festivities, only to skid to a sudden halt (nearly taking the entire living room throw rug with her in the process) when she finds her path blocked by a familiar grumpy blond asshole sitting in an armchair with a mountain of presents stacked behind him, sipping his usual black-as-his-soul morning coffee with one very judgmental eyebrow raised in accusation. Bound determined, Luz attempts to swerve around him and snag a present anyway, nearly face-planting into the brightly baubled tree when she trips over the watermelon print pajama leg he stuck out to stop her. "Nope! Not until everyone else is awake," Hunter chides, putting a hand over his coffee to shield it from her grabby hands, only to relent a moment later with a wearying, long-suffering sigh. "Who put you in charge?" Luz grumbles, taking a sip from his mug, only to make a disgusted face and hand it back to him a second later, complaining that it doesn't have nearly enough sugar for her liking. "I'm six months older than you, it's just the natural pecking order," Hunter replies with a smug smile as he takes another a swig of his coffee, careful to avoid the little owl beak sticking out from the center of the mug. Luz can't help but snort with laughter at the pun. Ever since they were kids, Hunter and Luz have affectionately referred to their home as The Owl House, every surface from floor to wall to ceiling filled with Eda's magpie obsession with the fluffy winged creatures.

Hunter isn’t sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, “I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me” — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn’t stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months. Or: the one where Hunter and Willow are college roommates who have secretly been in love with each other since freshman year of high school. They’re just moving in together, it’s no big deal. Surely this won’t change anything between them.

From there, it devolves into a full-on slap war, Luz using the bouncy launchpad of the couch cushions to propel herself onto Hunter's back and slap a hand over his mouth to silence his shit-talking, only to remove it a second later with a look of pure disgust on her face as she exclaims, "Ugh, gross! Did you just lick my hand?" "We sure know how to pick 'em, don't we?" Amity chuckles as the two of them stand side by side in the middle of the living room, looking on with fond amusement. "They may be idiots," Willow laughs as she angles her phone to capture the whole thing on video — mostly because she knows Eda will get a kick out of it. "But they're our idiots." Amity glances over, clocking the look on Willow's face — the soft slant of her brows and half-lidded eyes as she gazes at him, besotted smile dimpling her freckled cheeks — and arches a curious eyebrow. "You guys look amazing, by the way," she prompts, eyes darting back and forth between Hunter and Willow's carefully-crafted Halloween costumes. "You really didn't plan it?" "No," Willow shakes her head, sounding just as surprised. "I haven't read the Bones To Earth series in a few years, but…don't those two end up together in the last book?" she asks, curious smile a little too knowing. "They—" Willow falters, breath hitching. "They get married." "Interesting," Amity says in a low voice, letting it linger in the air between them for a few seconds to watch the blush bloom in Willow's cheeks, before slipping her arm through Willow's and marching them toward the front door, calling over her shoulder at the blur of white, gold, and purple in the vague shape of her bickering girlfriend and future brother-in-law, "We'll be at The Night Market! Feel free to join us when you're done acting like overgrown toddlers."

Hunter isn’t sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, “I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me” — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn’t stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months. Or: the one where Hunter and Willow are college roommates who have secretly been in love with each other since freshman year of high school. They’re just moving in together, it’s no big deal. Surely this won’t change anything between them.

"You don't, um…" he falters, adam's apple straining against his throat as he swallows. "You don't think I'm weird for having them?" he asks, remembering how his uncle used to tease him for holding onto the little frog like a security blanket, calling him weepy, weak, and childish. In lieu of an answer, Willow takes him by the hand and leads him across the hall into her room (HER ROOM) bathing the walls in a soft golden glow as she flips on the overhead light. It's exactly how Hunter always imagined it would be, filled with soft florals and earthy greens, so cozy he could easily curl up underneath the handmade patchwork quilt draped across her bed and sleep there for hours. Willow weaves seamlessly through the room, plucks a little stuffed bumblebee from the center of her bed, and drops it into Hunter's hands. It's soft, despite being very old and well-loved, faded black bleeding into pastel yellow from so many years of snuggles and wash cycles. "This is Clover," she says, beaming up at him with a smile sweet as honey. "I've had her since I was a kid. My dads got her for me as a birthday present. I couldn't imagine not taking her with me. She's my little pal, my talisman." "She's your palisman," Hunter offers with a small smile, warmth flooding his chest when Willow barks out a laugh and exclaims, "Exactly! See? You get it." Hunter watches as Willow gives the little stuffed bee a kiss on the forehead just as she did for Flapjack, before nestling Clover back into her spot amongst an array of plush throw pillows and hand-sewn quilting, and not for the first time that day, thinks, I'm home.

A canon-divergent series following the Hexsquad’s adventures in the human realm over the course of a single year — a little bit of angst sprinkled in between lots of warm fuzzy found family fluff, humor, and slow burn huntlow romance.

The rain comes out of nowhere, big fat drops pouring down from the sky and sinking deep into the soil beneath them, a cool refreshing break from the sweltering humidity of summer's last breath, far more welcome than the downpour they'd endured when they'd first arrived. It's kind of poetic, the way it rains on both their first and last night in the human realm. While everyone else rushes inside, giggling and screaming as they splash through muddy puddles, Hunter slowly gets to his feet, but doesn't make any move to return to the house. Willow gives his hand a gentle tug to prod him forward, but he stays rooted to the spot, smiling face turned up toward the sky, letting himself get soaked through. "Hunter," Willow laughs, playfully scolding him, but she makes no move to head back inside either, her grip on his hand a little tighter as she gives his palm an identical three-pulse squeeze. Hunter glances down at her through one half-lidded eye, the other squeezed shut to keep the water out, smile growing bigger by the second. He doesn't know a single thing about dancing, but that doesn't stop him from drawing her toward him and twirling her in a little pirouette, the sound of her laughter vibrating against his ribcage as he pulls her close to his chest, slides a hand against the soft curve of her jaw, and kisses her senseless.

A canon-divergent series following the Hexsquad’s adventures in the human realm over the course of a single year — a little bit of angst sprinkled in between lots of warm fuzzy found family fluff, humor, and slow burn huntlow romance.

Since they all enjoyed the shark tunnel so much, they thought they would enjoy the shark bridge — an 80-foot reinforced rope bridge suspended mere feet above the aquarium's largest shark tank, a bold sign at the entrance asking do you dare to cross these shark-infested waters? — just as much, if not more. But they were wrong. They were so very, very wrong. As the seven of them traipse across the swaying bridge, Gus decides that this is the opportune moment to play tour guide, reading aloud from the section of the pamphlet labeled Fun Facts About Sharks. "Sharks are ancient creatures that have been roaming the earth for at least four hundred and twenty million years," he begins in a theatrical tone not unlike his father's broadcasts, showmanship clearly an inherited trait. "As of right now, we know of over five hundred different types of sharks, though new species are constantly getting discovered every year. Fossils found over time suggest that millions of years ago, there may have been well over three thousand different species of shark." Everyone hums in intrigue and appreciation. What an interesting fact! But then— "Sharks are one of earth's most powerful predators, with few known competitors," he continues with the same amount of gusto. "It's hard to see in the murky waters of the deep, but sharks have excellent vision. They can also detect electrical impulses, including another animal's beating heart." Aaaaaand good feeling gone. A shiver of fear runs up the length of all of their spines as one by one, they picture what it would be like to come across a shark in the depths of murky waters, panicked heartbeat like a beacon to the human realm's most fearsome predator. "A shark’s sense of smell is ten thousand times better than a human’s," Gus informs them a moment later. "A shark can smell a single drop of blood in the water, though this doesn't always mean they will go on the hunt. A shark will only eat when it's hungry, and they are very picky eaters. Sharks will often take a bite out of something before deciding to go for the kill — this is why they often swim away after 'tasting' a human." They're halfway across the bridge now, another family with rowdy children on their tails. One of the little ones starts shaking the sides of the bridge in excitement, eager to see a shark fin pop up out of the water, and Hunter has a sudden, visceral image of ropes unraveling, sending them all to the watery depths below. "Another fun fact!" Gus shouts, shaking Hunter out of his nightmarish daydream. "Did you know that most sharks have several rows of teeth, and some can have as many as three thousand teeth in their mouths at any given time?" Hunter's heart pounds inside his chest. Most witches and humans have about thirty-two teeth in their mouth. Sharks, evidently, have three thousand. As far as Hunter is concerned, that's 2,968 too many. "Sharks can range in size from tiny to as big as a city bus!" Gus recites from the pamphlet with unbridled excitement, oblivious to Hunter's mounting panic. "For example, the spined pygmy shark only grows to about seven inches long, while the whale shark can reach up to fifty feet in length!" Hunter remembers the size of the bus they'd ridden back home from their trip to the mall that one time. Imagines something with three thousand teeth the size of that swimming around in the water, and swallows against a sandpaper throat. "Did you know that the megalodon — the biggest and oldest shark in human history — could grow to over sixty feet in length?" Gus says enthusiastically. Hunter, Willow, and Amity turn to stare at him in wide-eyed horror. "Oh, but don't worry. They all went extinct about twenty million years ago," Gus reassures them. Waits until he sees their shoulders slump in relief to chime in with an ominous, "Probably," delighting in the way their eyes grow even wider. "Although…" he muses, a positively impish smile curling across his face. "Those time pools containing titan's blood…there's a chance one of them could've gotten through, made its way into our world. But they'd never survive the heat of the Boiling Sea…right?" Hunter's eyes are the size of dinner plates. Out of all of them, he's the only one who's actually been in the Boiling Sea. If he could survive the heat, then what if… "Get me off this nightmare bridge!" Hunter yelps, rushing past Luz, Amity, Gus, Camila, and Vee, tugging an all-too-eager Willow behind him. The moment he's off the bridge, Hunter finds a secluded area in front of a tank with harmless little starfish stuck to the sides of the glass, hugging his knees to his chest, four fingers held up as he practices Willow's breathing technique. Willow has to hold him and stroke his hair for five full minutes just to get his heart rate back to normal, and Gus has to promise to never tell him any fun facts about sharks ever again.

A canon-divergent series following the Hexsquad’s adventures in the human realm over the course of a single year — a little bit of angst sprinkled in between lots of warm fuzzy found family fluff, humor, and slow burn huntlow romance.

"Oh, this is an interesting one!" he exclaims, reading from a pamphlet titled Wolf Facts 101. "Did you know that wolves will often lick each other's mouths as a way to show affection? Kind of charming, don't you think?" A sly smile spreads across Willow's face. "Is that a hint?" she asks, eyebrows arched suggestively. Hunter stares back at her, the tips of his ears burning bright red as the meaning of her words sink in. "Oh!" he exclaims, Adam's apple straining against the column of his throat. They've kissed a few more times since that cozy, sun-filled afternoon, but Hunter swears he'll never get used to it for as long as he lives, still tripping over his own skipping heart every time he gets to call her his girlfriend, terrified that at any moment, he'll wake up and it'll all have been a dream. "No, I wasn't trying to suggest— I mean, unless you want— I—" "Easy there, wolf boy," Willow teases, leaning in close and lifting up onto her toes to press a soft kiss against his lips, giggling when she pulls back to find Hunter gazing dreamily at her, hearts in his eyes. "Did you know," she says, reaching into the depths of her purse and pulling out a pair of little grey wolves she'd snagged from the zoo's gift shop while Hunter was distracted looking at meerkats with Gus, knowing full well that her wolf-obsessed boyfriend would go absolutely bananas over them. He'd even worn his handmade wolf t-shirt to the park just for the occasion (and don't think it escaped Willow's notice that the pair of mated wolves with their noses pressed together in the entrance of the cave just so happen to have golden brown fur with red eyes, and jet black fur with green eyes — that combination must have taken him ages to track down.) "…that wolves mate for life? Kind of charming, don't you think?" she asks as she places the plushies in Hunter's outstretched hands. Hunter stares at her, lips tugging into a soft, besotted smile as he cradles the two little wolves to his chest like a precious treasure. "Is that a hint?" he asks, heart going wild as Willow's whole face lights up in a radiant smile, closing the distance between them to draw him in for another kiss.