Hunter TOH x Reader Oneshots!

8: My Muse

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Suggested by: QuirkyGayPerson

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Synopsis

In a rare quiet moment at home, an artist struggling with a relentless art block finds an unexpected muse, who's sitting on the floor, caught up in a gentle game with the palismen. Drawn to his unguarded warmth, you ask to sketch him, hoping to recapture some inspiration. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The house had a cozy quietness to it, a rarity these days with so many friends around. 

Amity, Willow, and you shared the room now, which made for an interesting combination of personalities and habits. Amity was always meticulously neat, her things lined up with precision along her side of the room, while Willow's space had a more relaxed vibe—gardening tools and little pots of seedlings scattered like tiny, organized jungles. 

As for you, your side was a bit of organized chaos: a stack of sketchbooks, loose pencils, and a few crumpled pieces of paper from your recent art struggles.

It was one of those quiet, rare days. Willow had taken Gus out to tend the small garden in the backyard, claiming they'd be on a "mission to bring the Earth some Boiling Isles greenery." 

And Luz had practically dragged Amity out the door to get groceries, much to Amity's barely-disguised delight. You'd caught the two of them sharing shy smiles before they left. 

For the first time in days, the room was entirely yours.

With a sigh, you sank down onto your bed, glancing over the mess on your desk. Art block had been haunting you for days now, creeping into every sketch, every idea, like a fog you couldn't shake. 

It was as if your hand had forgotten how to capture anything, and your usual confidence in your lines and colors felt frustratingly out of reach. You'd tried drawing the scenery, the garden, even a quick sketch of Willow earlier as she fussed over a plant, but none of it looked quite right.

In the back of your mind, you missed the strange beauty of the Boiling Isles—the jagged landscapes, dark forests with trees that seemed alive, and the vibrant, eerie colors that filled the skies.

Each drawing you created there felt alive, capturing the essence of a place where the strange and beautiful coexisted. 

You remembered the quirky details, like the floating eyeballs peeking out from behind rocks, their curious gazes seeming to watch you as you worked. It had been a source of endless inspiration. Here in the human realm, the scenery felt so mundane in comparison, lacking that spark of unpredictability that had always fueled your creativity. 

It made you realize just how much you craved the magic of the Isles. 

Your fingers drummed against the sketchbook, itching to try again, but an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Maybe if you had something—or someone—more interesting to focus on...

With a huff, you crumpled up yet another sketch, tossing it into the growing pile of rejected drawings at your feet. You ran a hand through your hair, staring down at the blank page in your sketchbook as if it might somehow offer a solution on its own.

"Clearly, this isn't going anywhere..." you muttered.

Finally, you sighed and decided to go up and find the missing inspiration. Who knows, maybe it's somewhere out there, in the old dusty boxes in the basement filled with scary dolls.