#who actually knows if hob teaches history?

[outoftimewriting]

we did that with 15min of screentime and vaguely homoerotic energy, i'm proud

[gabessquishytum]

Just so you know,,,,,,,I'm starting to think (more) Valentine's Day prompts!!! 🤗

Mr. Gadling's students wanted to do something nice for their favorite teacher for Valentine's Day -- so they (with Ms. Joanna and Ms. Unity's help) proposed marriage to Mr. Gadling's favorite actor, Dream Endless, for him.

They wrote letters and pooled their allowances to buy a nice band and sent it all with flowers to Dream Endless.

Matthew was new to the Endless team and wanted to distinguish himself, so when he saw the super cute (viral potential in) 5th graders asking Dream to marry their Elementary school teacher he pitched to Jessamy and Lucienne that while Dream shouldn't actually marry the guy, it would be a good Valentine's Day press story for Dream to visit the teacher -- he could do it up "romantically", flowers & chocolate & flirty.

Matthew figures Dream can bring the kids pizza and be charming for 2 hours for some good press. It would be like those kids who ask a star to take them to the prom or something.

Dream thinks it's a dumb idea, then the team (well really Dream's sister Death) finds a TikTok of "Hob Gadling" reading the classics in Old English (he might just teach Elementary school, but he studied to teach history to college students,,,,he likes to keep his hand in). Dream is entranced by the beautiful man with the dangerous mouth. Dream agrees to the roses and truffles visit.

With Joanna and Unity's adult help, and permission of the school, they plan to surprise Mr. Gadling (and his 5th grade class) with Action Star Dream Endless for Valentine's Day.

Hob gets a date with hot movie star Dream,,,,and the school gets a massive pizza party.

This is so cute. I love the idea of the kids setting their "sad lonely old teacher" up with a hot movie star! Hob would like it to be known that he is not sad, lonely OR old... but he is super into Dream Endless.

Dream shows up to the school in a suit (playing into the "wedding" thing), trying to act like he's not excited. Joanna and Unity quietly let him into the library where Hob is doing story hour for his own class and a bunch of others too. It's only when Hob looks up from "mary poppins" that he finally notices that they have a guest. Several cameras catch the way Hob’s face turns bright red, and his eyes immediately sparkle and hes gets this flirty kind of look. Dream offers up his flowers and humbly asks if Hob will join him for lunch?

It's perfect for the video that Matthew intends to make. What's even more perfect is the very real chemistry between Dream and Hob. They immediately seem to be in their own little world. Hob cracks open the chocolates and offers one to Dream; Dream allows Hob to pop the chocolate into his mouth for him. It's so adorable. The kids are more interested in the pizza delivery, but the adults are all side eyeing each other. This is DEFINITELY more than a PR stunt now.

Especially when Hob and Dream mysteriously disappear for half an hour and return with red, swollen lips. They're holding hands. It's enough to make even Joanna believe in true love.

A week later the kids are fascinated to see their lonely sad old teacher all over social media, as he leaves a very expensive restaurant on Dream Endless's arm. Hob waves to the cameras like he's a natural. Is that....... a ring on his finger?!?!?

[landwriter]

2!

Hounds of Love by The Futureheads. Oh! What a gem!! I first loved this song when I was a wee bab and rediscovered it this past summer. It, along with all my top songs, was on a summer driving playlist which is why it is so insanely high haha. There's a sort of lovely pastoral wildness to this and I think that suits our lads so well.

An outdoorsy AU with competence kink out the wazoo, where Dream is a bird specialist at a wildlife rehabilitative centre, who becomes a minor TikTok celebrity (much to his enormous apathy) when the centre starts doing interpretive meet-birds events and the internet falls in love with this dour hottie who only smiles when he's talking about birds (Matthew, naturally, runs the account). Hob is a hunter - bow, mostly - who is regrettably very on TikTok, very on all social media - he hates the term but he is unquestionably an 'influencer'. He just likes sharing his knowledge and passion, alright? And the gear sponsorships are nice.

He sees Dream, and sees, mostly, a really great collab opportunity, so he messages him, and Dream (who is Matthew, and just shouted HOB FUCKING GADLING? IN MY DMs? at his phone when he got the message, immediately sets up a meeting at the centre. Then he breaks the news to Dream, specifically when Dream is holding Jessamy, so he can't be murdered.)

Dream, of course, expects Hob to be some like, swaggering font of red-blooded machismo talking points, and suspects Hob is only popular because he looks like an advertisement in Outdoor Living. (Matthew showed him pictures.) He disregards Matthew, who says Hob is actually super cool, because Matthew has terrible taste and would be the first to admit it. But his interest is piqued when Lucienne also knows who Hob is. It turns out Hob is deeply involved in nature and wildlife conservancy. Gives talks at schools. Gets involved with land protection initiatives. Teaches orienteering to youth. But everyone seems to expect him to hate Hob, which he would find faintly insulting except that he also expects himself to hate Hob. He doesn't. Not that much. Even when he shows up in a plaid shirt that is made of 'technical' fabric, because he's smart and excited to talk to Dream about birds, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of falconry, and most importantly, Jessamy takes to him immediately.

They run into each other again at a renaissance fair, another thing Dream hates but has been strong-armed into doing, and so they are both dressed in very silly clothes when it happens: the first time Hob watches Dream demonstrate falconry, the first time Dream watches Hob use a longbow made from a yew tree he fell himself, the first time they go from a wary sort of respect for one another to a wanting.

Dream, who has a recurring fantasy about running away from it all, listens to Hob tell tracking stories and thinks, If I went into the woods, you would find me. But he doesn't want to run from Hob - except sometimes, when he sees Hob chew on his lip consideringly before giving a thoughtful answer about the guiding industry, or when Hob grins wildly at the crowd after his archery demonstration, and most of all, when Hob phones him out of the blue one day - he doesn't text, he phones - sounding a little breathless with excitement, and asks Dream if he wants to come with him for a week in the mountains, on "probably a wild goose chase" and promises "all sorts of birds if nothing else." (Hob had meant to only share the news with Dream. Fuck, he thinks. I am so fucked.)

He says yes, for the birds, of course, and tells Matthew the next time he's at the centre.

"So what's the wild goose chase?" asks Matthew.

Dream plumbs his memory of the phone call and says, "Hob told me he received a bighorn sheep tag." Matthew gapes at him.

"Holy shit," says Matthew. "He's in love with you."

"He is certainly not."

"Uh, no, respectfully boss, he 'certainly' is. Lucienne!" he shouts, "Hob invited Dream to come out on his Dall sheep tag. What the fuck, right?"

Lucienne comes in and raises her eyebrows. "Oh dear," she says. She's smiling.

"What," says Dream. "It's a sheep. I don't understand."

Lucienne and Matthew exchange a glance.

"Him. I cannot believe Hob chose him," says Matthew.

"Love works in mysterious ways," says Lucienne.

"I am right here," says Dream.

Matthew turns to him, "Have fun in Alberta," he says.

this would ft. nights of wild stars, rugged terrain, type ii fun, sexual tension around a campfire, homoerotic form checks, tent sharing, dream glassing beautiful birds with hob's $3000 binoculars while hob stares at him in abject adoration, dream watching hob strip off his clothes and jump into an alpine lake, and refusing to join him out of pretended prudishness when it's really because he's suddenly so hard it hurts, camp coffee, confessions about themselves instead of confessions about their feelings for each other, sore muscles for a VARIETY of reasons, and lots of allegories about wildness and taming and running away from things, and SO MUCH COMPETENCE KINK, friends. so much. i would probably write it like - act one them leading their separate lives, their desires and aches etc., act two - meetcute and circling one another, act three - The Trip. this one has a very happy ending i can tell

[murkycran]

Human!Dreamling AU

Hob is a former soldier turned history professor (original, I know)

Dream is a successful author; he writes under the pseudonym of Morpheus because he likes his privacy

Dream starts sitting in on Hob’s history classes because he’s doing research for his next book

Which would fine and all, if only 1) he had bothered to tell Hob that rather than just showing up one day, and 2) he wasn’t so distracting for the actual students in the class

As it is, Dream just starts showing up after class one day and Hob is like “um?? Can I help you???”

Dream: “your Department Chair said I could be here”

Hob: “well no one told ME that”

It starts off a bit contentious; Dream refuses to tell Hob what he’s writing about, just asks vague questions, and his attitude makes Hob feel inferior or like he’s being judged

In truth Dream is just an awkward idiot who has a hard time talking to people, hence the need for writing under a pseudonym and saving his privacy

Hob, finally reaching his limit with feeling like he’s being judged and deemed inadequate, asks why Dream doesn’t just sit in with the other history professors

Dream, getting huffy and defensive, says “my sister praised your passion and depth of knowledge in your field, but if you truly find me so bothersome, I’ll find someone else”

Hob: “sorry, did you say sister?”

Hob served in the army with Death, who was a combat medic

Death and Hob kept in touch after being discharged from the army, but they both kind of got busy with life and only occasionally saw each other on social media

While Hob went on to get his degree in history and teach, Death got her PhD in medicine and opened her own practice

When Dream complained about needing to do some research on an era of history for his next book to Death, she suggested Hob and talked about how good of a teacher he was. So Dream pulled some strings and got permission from the Department Chair to sit in on Hob’s classes.

Hob is a little embarrassed - he considers himself a pretty average professor and doesn’t have the same years of experience as some of the other professors - but feels honored that Death recommended him so highly

Ofc before he can actually say anything like that, Dream leaves because he’s Offended and needs to sulk

Feeling a little bad about how they parted (only a little bc Dream can be an ass when he wants to be), Hob reaches out to Death again and tells her about it. She’s pretty much like “sigh yeah that’s Dream for you, dw I’ll talk to him”

Cue her calling Dream and calling him an idiot and telling him he needs to use his words more rather than expecting everyone to simply accommodate him.

Death uses Older Sister Voice to strike a blow!! Dream sulks about it some more but realizes she’s right and shows up to the next class Hob is teaching

He doesn’t really apologize but he does say he overreacted; Hob DOES apologize for misjudging Dream, however. He’s still willing to give Dream a shot now that he knows Death specifically recommended him to Dream

Hob tried to ask Dream about the books he’s written before but Dream Will Not tell him what his pen name is; hob also tries to ask what the current book is about, and Dream still won’t talk about it

This is all frustrating to Hob, bc if he knew even what genre Dream was writing he could probably help more than by just giving a basic history lesson. He could be specific about what he tells Dream, give plot relevant info, etc etc.

Dream dgaf tho and plays it all close to the vest bc he doesn’t want someone ‘interfering’ with his writing process. It irks Hob, but he comes to see it as a game, trying to figure out Dream’s pseudonym from little clues in their conversations.

Leading to not only many more classes where Dream shows up (Hob’s students are INTRIGUED bc who is this man randomly hanging around our professor?), but also some one on one meetings either at Hob’s office or at the New Inn over drinks. Dream even offers to pay Hob, but Hob insists he just pay for the drinks when they go out, bc he sees his talks with Dream as a favor to his Death, who saved his life more than once out in the field

What started as a rough partnership evolves into a comfortable friendship over months, as their meetings eventually start to progress past just talking about history to other topics. They get to know each other outside the original context of their meetings by talking about things that, yknow, friends talk about. Food, hobbies, family, past experiences, etc.

I think the tipping point for Hob realizing he’s got a crush on Dream would be him coming into the university building where he teaches one day and seeing Dream talking to another professor.

All the social studies and liberal arts are taught in the same building. Dream showed up early for Hob’s class bc he thought he heard a different professor reciting Shakespeare to their class once. He likes Shakespeare ofc so he thought he’d show up a little early to listen to the Shakespeare class out of curiosity. He ends up in a discussion after the class ends with the professor. The professor, named Will (bc I think I’m hilarious), is an English professor who teaches a class on Shakespearean Literature to third and fourth year students.

On his way to his own class, Hob sees the two of them talking after the Shakespeare class ends, and feels a little weird about it but he has a class to teach so he ignores it

Or at least he tries to. The feeling grows when his class starts and Dream is nowhere to be seen for at least the first 30 min of class. When Dream finally does come in, it’s the latest he’s ever arrived and it bugs tf out of Hob so much he tells Dream after class that they can’t meet that day bc there’s a faculty meeting that Hob forgot about.

Dream is a little surprised and disappointed, but is okay with putting their meeting off for another day. After he leaves, Hob finds himself wondering exactly why he told Dream they couldn’t meet, bc now that Dream’s gone he regrets lying and just wants Dream to come back. Now irritated with both himself and Will the English professor, Hob goes home for the rest of the day to grade papers. If there’s a little more red on the essays than there normally is, that’s only bc his students had a particularly hard time with the recent unit and not at all bc he’s mad.

Hob doesn’t have any classes the next day, but he does actually have a meeting with the Department Chair about next semester’s classes, so he goes to the university. After his meeting with the Chair, he happens to walk by Will the English professor’s class out of curiosity and sees Dream sitting in the back of the class. Hob gets aggravated all over again, stewing outside the closed classroom door (it’s one of those with the window on the door) and thinking not very nice thoughts about Will the English professor when Dream looks towards him and sees Hob at the door. He looks surprised.

Without even thinking about it Hob automatically leaves bc shit! Dream caught him standing outside the class like a creepy stalker! Fuck. Hob drives all the way home mortified and cursing himself before he realizes he’s blushing all over. Cue the realization that hey maybe this is about more than just his friend becoming friends with Will the English professor.

I have more for this AU, but this post is getting a little long for mobile so I’m cutting it off here (for now…)

Now with a Part 2!

[qqueenofhades]

Spooky prompts 14 and/or 22 for Dreamling, please

The first day of autumn term, to put it mildly, is always something of an adventure. The Powers That Be have scheduled "Introduction to the Medieval World, 500-1500" at nine o'clock AM sharp, which is always a great way to get students to turn up on the first day (or indeed, at all) and when Hob reaches the classroom at quarter till nine, it turns out that this happy event has failed to be passed along to Facilities, as it is locked and dark. He then has to ring them up, wait for them to send someone along to unlock it, and when he gets inside, discovers that the A/V emphatically refuses to communicate with the projector. Hob sighs deeply, logs in with his faculty ID, fiddles with the input source, and finally gets the GOLDSMITHS UNIVERSITY OF LONDON logo to appear on the screen. By this time, students are starting to trickle in, yawning and clutching large cups from Costa Coffee and Caffe Nero. Hob has advised them all to print out the module handbook from Blackboard beforehand, but as sustained exposure to undergraduates has dented his confidence in their ability to follow simple instructions, he has brought plenty of extra copies. He hands them around, along with the attendance sheet. Only three names missing. For an early class on Day 1, that's not bad.

Hob introduces himself, explains what they'll be covering in the course (pretty much what it says on the tin), and offers them a few helpful tips to not actually have to purchase anything from the bookstore. Teaching the medieval survey is always an exercise in seeing just how high his blood pressure can go and/or how many Game of Thrones-related inanities he will have to firmly dispel, but he does enjoy it. (A few semesters ago, a student wrote in their evaluation that "Dr. Gadling teaches history like he was really there," a comment which gratified Hob immensely.) The fifty minutes of the introductory lecture fly by, which is mostly just names, dates, terms, and PowerPoints, and everyone dutifully starts packing up to go. Hob has a few hours until he has to teach Empire and the Atlantic World this afternoon, and he absently stuffs his things back into his bag. His phone buzzes, which is undoubtedly one of the three missing students emailing to apologize for their absence and asking a question that is answered on page 3 of the handbook. (That or they accidentally gave themselves food poisoning -- truly, who let these infants live alone?) Hob resolves to check it later, steps out into the hallway, and --

"Good morning, Hob."

Hob skids to a halt, extremely startled, before he spots the tall dark figure standing in the middle of the busy corridor like an extremely emo, extremely goth roadblock. The students veer around him, not without a few who's-that-guy sidelong looks, and Hob desperately tries to make sure that his own are not among them before he moves closer. "Good morning... Morpheus." The name still tastes odd on his tongue, pleasant but unusual, needing a bit of comfortable wear to feel just right. "And can I ask, what are you doing here?"

The Lord of Dreams shrugs. "Isn't it the first day of school?"

"As if that matters to you." Hob raises an eyebrow. "Well, as it so happens, I do have a few free hours until my next class. You know. If you possibly felt the need to grab a coffee."

It's unclear whether Dream has ever just grabbed a coffee in his entire eternal life, but he considers that studiously, then nods once, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long black coat and falling into step next to Hob. They emerge from the history building and into the soggy, mild London morning, a fine drizzle still sifting down from the low grey clouds. They head to the campus cafe, as Hob glances shiftily around again to make sure nobody spots Dr. Gadling in company of this... person. (Not that he's ashamed of Dream, not at all, but students do gossip like fiends, and this is all so new. He has to be extremely careful not to accidentally spook the bastard and send him running away for another hundred and thirty-three years.)

"Small latte, please," Hob says to the barista. "Blueberry muffin. Oh, and whatever he wants."

Dream looks startled. He stares at the menu as if he has never contemplated an overpriced espresso beverage in his life (almost five quid for Hob's latte alone, they are having a laugh -- why is London not a real city where real people can still afford to live?) Then he says uncertainly, "Coffee, I suppose."

The barista looks expectant.

"Uh." Hob clears his throat. "What sort of coffee, love?"

Dream looks deeply startled, and Hob is briefly afraid that he is in fact about to throw up his hands and rush out of this establishment in a fit of pique. He didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out, and well, they are seeing a lot more of each other these days (in, ah, all sorts of ways). Dream thinks about it a moment more, as there is an audible sound of impatient throat-clearing and shuffling from the queue behind them. Hob says hastily, "Just a small brew of the day, please. No cream, no sugar. Black. Like his soul."

The barista stifles a snort. Dream looks at Hob accusingly. Hob shrugs -- a bite me sort of shrug that makes Dream likewise muffle a smile -- and opens his wallet. It is, of course, far more than two small drinks and a pastry product should cost in any reasonable epoch of the world, but damn if he isn't so happy to pay it, to be here with his no-longer-stranger, to sip their drinks as Hob laments the dismal standard of essays to which he will undoubtedly be subjected and Dream listens with quiet, patient adoration, that he can hardly stand it.

[eggvvithlegs]

Headcanons about hob gadling because this man has me in a vice grip - part I because this got out of hand

Hob tries his damn best to keep up to date with all the latest trends, especially technology, he always has the latest cell phone model

Unfortunately this does mean hob got into crypto the moment he heard about it

On the bright side he got in on the ground floor and got out with a good chunk of change

I think hob has a knack for stumbling onto these things and making money by accident (see: printing press) he kind of just invests in stuff for fun and is always surprised when it pans out. He usually pulls out once it’s starts making real money tho

Hob has wisened up just a bit and keeps his money more spread out. He has a bunch of very valuable trinkets and books in his apartment that he can pawn off if he needs to

He also has a cache of like jewelry or gold or some shit hidden in a hole somewhere just in case he’s run out of town again

that one tumblr post of someone’s professor keeping an excel doc of all the new slang he hears from his students - that’s hob

Honestly you can pry professor hob gadling from my cold dead hands

I like English professor hob over history professor hob because teaching history would hurt just a little and he doesn’t want to override his memories with the cold facts of people who didn’t experience that time period (but I still do like history (or any other subject) professor hob)

Not to contradict myself but hob teaches the history of English literature and his students love him cause he always adds fun anecdotes about the day to day of the time period he likes to joke he was actually there haha!

Hob is mad that he does actually like Shakespeares work but he credits that to whatever his stranger did and NOT Shakespeare (he never outright voices his disdain for the man this to his student but they Know)

Hob tries his goddamn best to not get tenured cause he doesn’t want to have to explain quitting a position like that

Honestly I think about professor!hob too much and this post is getting too long already

hob still speaks Middle English fluently (and pulls it out sometimes for his students) and he has Opinions about the great vowel shift

He may or may not have published a few translations of books in Middle English to modern English under a pseudonym (look other translators just didn’t get it they didn’t understand the Vibe)

and lastly I would just like to say: hob with his hair up in messy bun

Posting the rest in part II cause this is already too long and I honestly don’t understand tumblrs text formatting

[whatimdoinghere-ihavenoidea]

Hogwarts!Dreamling AU

Where Hob is a the cheery, bowl of sunshine Hufflepuff 's Head of House, Morpheus is the sarcastic, kinda grumpy Slytherin's Head of House and no one has any idea how they get along so well nonetheless how they even became friends in the first place.

I needed to take all of this our of my chest, I am sorry

Please please please, if anyone write this into fanfic or draw them, please tag me

It's well known they know each other for many years, Hob has made sure everybody knows that.

The position of History of Magic was offered to Hob first, however his only condition to accept was to bring along his life-long friend Morpheus, as he knew the position of Astronomy was also available.

The inclusion of Hob to the Hogwarts' teaching staff was a breeze, the commonly boring an hated subject was now one of the student's favorites due the passion and teaching style of the new professor.

He likes to enchant miniatures to recreate historical events for his students, he got rid of the chairs and desks in the classroom and do the lectures in the floor sometimes crosslegged, sometimes completely lying on it while he reads stories doing different voices.

On the other hand Morpheus loves to be overdramatic on his lessons and yet he is very appealing to the students as well, as if there was some sort of spell hidden on his voice as he speaks.

Professor Morpheus shows more affection and sense of humor around the younger students, it has been said he once smiled at a joke from a second year's kid.

Morpheus had been unemployed for a couple of months before going to Hogwarts and although this was not expected, he was truly grateful to return to the school with Hob, as they share fond memories of Howgarts.

Few people know that they actually meet there when the where just first year students, they share the car on the Hogwarts Express.

What Hob doesn't know is that Morpheus sister tricked him to get into that car so she could spend the ride with her friends instead of babysitting her little brother.

Hob is a big fan of cooking and as the Hufflepuff's Common Room is right next to the kitchen he takes every chance to sneak in and cook something for him and Morpheus as the Astronomy teacher is a very picky eater and usually does not eat much of what the house elf's cook.

Professor Morpheus was once married, but he never talk about his former wife although he has a picture of them on their wedding day well hidden in his bedroom.

Hob remembers Morpheus' wife being a gorgeous woman but after the separation have not seen or heard about her.

Hob doesn't really understand why they decided to separate as he remembers the couple being very much in love.

He thinks it might happen due the death of his son, who died only a couple years old.

Profesor Hob was also married once, but unfortunately lost both his wife and son due the a disease nor muggle doctor or magical healer were be able to cure.

After this, Morpheus had to spend sometime helping Hob overcome a drinking problem that lead him to almost lost all his money.

After these lost Morpheus and Hob became even closer and helped one another whenever they were down.

Even though Morpheus pass through the same experience of loosing a child, he cannot speak out loud about it.

Hob learn about Morpheus' son by accident, while helping him move house.

None of them ever re-married. Although Morpheus dated a woman named Johanna for a while.

Time to time, both professors enjoy visiting muggle pubs to learn more about their way of living, although Hob enjoys it more than Morpheus.

There was a time when they had a fight that lead to them not seeing or talking to each other for at llittle over than a decade, to this day, they both regret about their words on that day.

Hob specially, as it was during this time that Morpheus' son was born and died and also divorced his wife.

What Hob does know, is that his friend was so depressed on this period he somehow ended up in a muggle prison after being involved in a car accident.

When they reconnect, none of them was bitter about the fight and were very understanding of one another, it seemed like no time had passed since they last saw each other.

During Easter Week, Morpheus spends unhealthy amounts of time in the library reading every book possible forgetting to eat something or even sleep.

Hob loves to spend this break playing Quidditch with the students or stepping in as a chaperone on the trips to Hogsmeade, always remembering to schedule a delivery of a snack for his friend in the library.

Aside from being a bookworm, Morpheus also likes to walk along the lake by himself or going to the owlery to feed the birds.

Sometimes the pair seems like they can communicate with one another by telepathy as they know each other so well.

Of course there are also rumors about they are actually a couple, but nothing has been ever confirmed.

[forgaeven1]

*  hob + more random hc about his 21st century career.   thank u to zina for shaking my brain like a salt n pepper shaker.  u let me rant about hob for like 5 mins and now i have all these headcanon that i desperately need to write somewhere.  some details may change with respective partner(s) or plot(s).

•           hob is a teacher.  this was confirmed by neil gaiman.   fun fact: i knew there was a scene of dream walking into hob who was teaching in a lecture hall that was written but never shot ( also confirmed by mr gaiman i believe but i have no idea where it is ) — so i’m torn between making him a high school teacher,  or a university lecturer.  i’m leaning more towards the second because i think the possibilities are insane and probably more fun to explore!

•           so the basis of how hob decides to teach is easy.  one day he saw an open,  free-admission seminar about a war or a battle he once apart of.  he walked in,  mostly out of curiosity,  and instead started to get into a heated argument with the guest lecturer because that did not happen.  the argument led them to argue abt it some more at a bar  —  maybe even fist fighting had ensued  —  but the next day, the professor invited hob into his research team and ...  well. that’s how it began.

•            i might get into it another day,  but hob quickly learn that proving what happened is far more difficult when what he knew and personally experienced ( from his immortality ) could not be proven,  scholarly-wise  —  especially if his old friends are no longer alive,  and there are no manuscripts,  or reliable scriptures,  or written documents that could support events that he knew had unfold.  perhaps even,  this was one of his first venture into an academic scene.

•           with that said,  hob is a very bad academia.  not because he’s not smart.  i simply just think he has no patience to actually annotate every research he discovers.  he still does it,  but it’s slow,  and he’s not anal about keeping his datas neatly or seek for it fervently.  which is why i think he also gets impatient enough to simply forge (qualification) documents so he could get a position to teach.  maybe not at a renowned school though;  hob doesn’t like prissy students ksjdksh

•           hob is a history teacher.  and if i do go down the route that he is a university staff,  i do think he would at least specify the area of history he is in.  i’m torn between him specialising in ancient warfare ( maybe in a period before he’s alive,  simply because he felt like he wanted to “close the gap” for years he didn’t live ),  or an expert of the hundred years war,  or the war of the roses,  or perhaps historical accounts of wwi or wwii.  i might be going more of him for the caroline war (during the period of 100 years war), simply because he wants to mention the black plague;  that’s how he lost his family and village after all.

•           because hob is horrible at annotation,  he has a small research team that helps him organise his research (in the event he is invited to contribute to a study journal, or book, or a full thesis itself etc).  i don’t think hob participate in these long-term,  though.  some researches take years,  and hob is always cautious that,  since he couldn’t age,  he can’t raise suspicion if he continues to be apart of studies like these. what happened if his colleague realise he hasn’t greyed or wrinkled like them?

•           i do think hob still likes learning.  maybe he’s not very good nor has the perfect patience for a scholar’s routine,  but hob finds some sort of fulfilment finally learning why the wars he was apart of had needed to happen.  maybe in a way,  he’s trying to see if his purpose then was worth it.  maybe he will never find the right answer,  but i still think he encounters peace once he does know.

•           hob is a very popular teacher!  he’s naturally charming and friendly,  and he encourages his students to always question the validity of his statements or claims,  which in turn,  easily turns the class into a whole debate session.

[jungnoir]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐛𝐭𝐬;

bts but as witches in a coven. discuss

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧: the supreme

ok not quite but he’s the most experienced in magic out of all the boys

his mother was a witch and she taught him everything he needed to know from birth to adulthood

his whole family is blessed with magic save for a few who didn’t get the gene but every family reunion they all dote on jin and talk about how powerful he’s become and how proud they are of him

the coven house where all of the boys stay is actually jin’s ancestor’s home from a long time ago

the place has brought up witches of all generations and jin was very eager to inherit it

while there’s definitely a lack of witches he’s been able to recruit, he loves his family of six so it doesn’t really bother him

he acts like he’s all serious but in reality he’s always casting spells on the youngins as tests (read: for fun)

jimin: why tf did you give me green skin

jin: if you had been paying attention during lessons you would know how to fix it :)

has definitely said this out of context more than once: ”any witch worth a broom handle knows how to get rid of poisonous snakes! you know back in my day…”

wears the flashiest outfits, but little do people know that they’re all homemade. he has a serious creative eye and seeks to make what simple human designers wish they could (taehyung is very eager to learn this talent from him)

goes all out on halloween with this talent too, creating uber realistic costumes

no he didn’t make a costume out of real human bones that year he went as a scarily realistic skeleton what are you talking about

no graves were robbed in the making of this outfit

if you couldn’t tell, his specialty is in glamours

honestly the guy should just tattoo “i’m a witch” across his forehead, he makes it so damn obvious

he openly practices magic too like it gives yoongi stress pains bc!! there’s still ppl who would very much like to burn witches still to this day!!! where is the self-preservation!!

jin doesn’t care. he’ll burn them right back. checkmate bitch

honestly charms anyone that comes in contact with him which is one of the things he never has to try at

the guys think he uses magic to do it but he’s honestly just, as jin would say, “born with it”

𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢: the right hand man

*namjoon voice* and who do we got here right now??? ˢᵘᵍᵃ!!!

when it comes to magic, yoongi is pretty neutral

an awfully interesting feeling to have given that seokjin has appointed him the heir of the coven in case anything happens to him

he’s not obsessed with magic like tae, hobi or kook

he doesn’t spend his time learning everything about it like namjoon

and he’s not playful with it like jimin and jin

yoongi just… acknowledges it. its like it exists as something he can do and he’s proud but he doesn’t really care if that makes sense

most of his friends outside of the coven are human too and he has no reservations about telling them what he is bc if they cause trouble he is more than prepared to take care of it

they’re usually like “wow so cool! i wish i was a witch” but yoongi really doesn’t care lmao

with or without magic, yoongi is the same: he loves music, he loves making music, and he loves being a musician

yoongi, however, is guilty of having used magic to make his music just right before

sometimes a note just doesn’t sit with him right and it’s driving him insane

or maybe the bass doesn’t hit hard enough

he charms his music in a way that when one listens to it, they feel exactly what yoongi wants them to feel

people are always telling him he has a real gift in music and while he most certainly does, he feels he has to give credit to his magic for helping him along sometimes

but then seokjin will be like “isn’t magic your talent too? aren’t you just exercising it when you charm your music? it’s not like you can only make music well. you should give yourself props for your magic too”

it’s just. weird to him because he’s seen how much magic can corrupt people in much higher positions than himself and it’s Terrifying

he wants to know that no matter what he makes, it’s his and his alone, not attributed to any otherworldly advantage

this just kind of contributes to his need to be as detached from magic as possible

he’s too cheap to buy one of those coffee makers that automatically start brewing at a certain time in the morning and just uses magic to do it instead

“yoongi do you want me to buy you a new coffee maker for your birthday? they have ones that do all the work for you now-” “no”

he has to be extra, okay namjoon

jimin teases him sometimes but yoongi knows it’s all out of love

jimin understands yoongi in a way, and while the others are always like “yoongi you should have more fun with your magic!” jimin is always like “no no no, let him be”

besides yoongi could probably smoke all of them in a battle of magic if it came down to it lol

𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: the perfectionist

HERE HE IS!!! ITS HE

hoseok is probably one of the most talented witches in the coven

hoseok is a perfectionist to a t so if he feels insecure about how he’s doing a certain spell he will do it over and over and over until he’s got it right which makes him a pretty formidable opponent

like even the boys wouldn’t go up against him bc they know they’re just gonna get their ass handed to them

he’s a sweetie tho and very light-hearted and he never lets his power get to his head

he mainly uses it to bother the others tbh

also uses magic to give himself and the boys cool ass hair colors

currently he’s obsessed with this orange he’s got going on

calls it “pumpkin spice” bc it angers yoongi

“it really brings out the burnt sunset hues of a pumpkin ya know? or like a mix of changing fall colors, like golden crisp and warm crimson” “it’s fucking orange” yoongi can be heard chiming in from somewhere else in the house

but don’t get me wrong, hoseok loves himself some yoongi and vice versa

yoongi taught hoseok directly bc yoongi was the one that found hoseok

he was just an average college student and wasn’t really finding a will to live outside of paying off his student debts

he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life and was pretty dead inside, working at a cafe and serving coffee to other dead inside college students when yoongi came in and sensed his strong magical aura

yoongi kinda forced hoseok’s magic out of him by tossing a cup of steaming hot coffee to the floor, causing hoseok to freeze the entire cafe in time, save for the two of them. yoongi told him what he was and the rest was history

now that it’s been so long hoseok still gets upset that yoongi was willing to break one of the cafe’s mugs to prove a point

because of course, when time unfroze, the mug fuckin shattered all over the place what a fuckin jerk guess who’s going to have to clean that up does he really have no respect for retail workers seriou

seokjin also was opposed to yoongi’s method but since it resulted in hobi joining their coven, he can’t be too mad

it was hoseok’s natural ability that yoongi was able to help hone, and when hoseok found a love for it, he took it upon himself to be the absolute best witch he could be

hoseok’s power of stopping time is uniquely his own and he’s worked hard to perfect it

sometimes he just stops time to stop it

hob: *freezes a movie theater right before something dramatic happens on screen* hold on yall I gotta piss real quick

freezing time is also super helpful during *cough* stressful exams* cough*

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧: the scholar

he knows…. everything

not only did he do the reading, he did an 8 page analysis on it and corrected a few mistakes too

namjoon was aware of his witchy nature even from the moment he was a little kid, and his parents were both human and a bit scared for him since they didn’t know how to handle it, but they gave him the option of pursuing magic or not. they made sure to do all their own research into where witches could go to hone their craft just in case

in the end, namjoon grew curious and started reading books about magic and magical things

tho he didn’t actually start using his power until his mid teens

by then he was a bit shaky with it, but he knew a lot and was very determined so he got the hang of it very quickly

rarely uses his magic outside of it being necessary tho bc he’s gone so long without having to use it that he doesn’t rely on it for anything

he also likes to be independent from his magic in a way

while magic is very much a part of him and his being, he doesn’t want it to be like a crutch, you know? his biggest fear is losing his magic, bc he’s heard it can happen

he’s also aware that some witches lose important life skills and miss out on opportunities to build their character bc they’re so used to being able to just magic their way out of a situation

went from student to teacher real quick

teaches the other boys how to properly say incantations

“its levios-ah not levios-ar”

actually?? a pretty scary dude when it comes to using his magic for real

don’t put him in a situation where someone is getting hurt because he will not go easy on the aggressor. the other boys can attest to this too, having been saved by him far too many times than is acceptable in namjoon’s eyes

basically dont fuck with namjoon’s boys or u gon die

does cute things for the boys on their birthdays with magic

one time taehyung was sad that it wasn’t snowing on his birthday so namjoon made it snow for hours

may have fucked up the climate a lil bit

yoongi almost lost a toe

namjoon frequents a library and whenever a lil kid is struggling to reach a book he uses his magic to drift the book down to the little kid and when the kid looks at him in awe he just presses his finger to his lips and winks at them

flirts using his extreme wicca knowledge, of which is either a major turn off or a major turn on. you decide

𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧: the reluctant

jimin loves magic, but it wasn’t always like that

jimin kinda struggled with accepting his magical abilities at a young age bc he was really confused

like why wasn’t he just like everyone else? why did he have to be a witch? why did he have to have magic when he could’ve just been normal?

he often rejected it, never bothering to learn anything even to impress the family at reunions

but as he grew older, his parents grew worried he’d hate his magic and never use it again, putting him in a vulnerable position if his magic were ever to just come out when jimin isn’t in a place to control it, so they let him meet a slightly older witch that could help mentor him

his parents would’ve done it but jimin hardly ever listened to his parents about magic and they wanted to show him there were witches his age that were amazing people and embraced it, that it didn’t take away from jimin’s life but in fact added to it

in comes yoongi

yoongi, at first, really pities jimin

he understands the struggle between wanting to be normal and dealing with a part of his identity that won’t ever go away

where yoongi is concerned, that struggle for him was that he wanted to be himself regardless of being talented in magic. jimin... just hates it

but then jimin starts bashing magic and witches and he’s about to get angry at his parents for trying to force him into being a witch when yoongi just,,, slaps him upside the head

jimin’s shocked and yoongi is just like “respect your parents kid, they’re looking out for you. just because you don’t use your magic doesn’t mean people won’t know you’re a witch. its dangerous for a witch to go around with magic and not know how to use it”

jimin is shocked. he never thought of it that way

jimin feels embarrassed all of a sudden and apologizes and then yoongi cracks a smile and he’s like “no biggie kid, i’m just here to teach you the basics of magic and then i’ll be out of your hair”

jimin finds that learning magic with yoongi is really fun and soon he’s asking to be apart of the coven and embracing being a witch

he becomes carefree with it, like it’s another part of him, and he’s still kinda inexperienced, but he’s learning a lot from yoongi and namjoon

loves playing with temperature

the boys make him freeze their drinks for him, or ask him to heat up some popcorn while they’re all sprawled out on the couch on movie night bc no one feels like waiting two minutes for it to cook in the microwave

makes the water in the shower cold whenever one of the boys is taking way too fucking long in there which is Everyday

also jimin: *hitting on someone at the bar* *makes the room slightly warmer* “is it hot in here or is it just you?”

relates everything he learns back to naruto in some way, much to everyone’s complete and utter confusion

he just really kins the guy i guess

100% owns every single witch pun shirt known to man

“witch please” “witches do it better” “this is my resting witch face”

jungkook: by all means jimin why don’t you just burn us all at the stake yourself

it’s ok tho bc it’s his own little way of owning his identity, and if you want to avoid having your fingers frozen off, you’ll be sure not to step to him any kind of way

𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: the transcendent 

my favorite witch!!! i wrote this whole thing for him

tae is like jin in that his whole family is magical and he grew up surrounded by magic his whole life

in fact, he’s so familiar with magic that he’s kind of sick of it (no he isn’t (most of the time))

taehyung is unique with his magic bc he’s actually able to transcend realms oooh~

the information on how many realms and parallel universes and such are limited as hell so taehyung actively helps broaden that knowledge as he travels, a very Dangerous and Scary job to anybody else

but to him he’s like!! fuck yeah astral projection!

basically, he’s able to put himself into a deep sleep where he moves through different realms, some more or less magical than the others

he’s so good at it that he can project himself into someone else’s dreams too

he’s basically capable of seeing more than most magical beings, and he can perceive spirits easily, as well as being able to actually see a magical aura around someone

so for instance, if a witch who didn’t know they were a witch walked into a bar, he’d know what they were instantly. besides the general intuitive feeling that most witches get, he can see the auras physically, like swarming tendrils of smoke unique to every person

each aura feels and looks different than others which makes it easy for him to point out shape shifters and vampires and werewolves and all the other guys pretty easily

bc of this ability, taehyung also likes to mess with the boys like everyone else lol

“tae, i just saw the most beautiful-” “they’re actually an ogre in disguise” “WHAT”

“man my english teacher is a witch” “she actually is”

in case you couldn’t tell tae’s favorite victim is jungkook

casually tells people he’s a witch just for the #reactions

if you’re wondering, no. nobody in this coven cares about keeping this shit a secret

since he’s more sensitive to dreaming, a lot of his dreams leave him incredibly emotional because sometimes he really is there

he once had a dream where all magical beings were universally accepted in the world and were loved and happy and woke up sobbing into jimin’s lap

also nightmares take a HUGE toll on him so his sleep pattern is fucked for real

usually ends up eating cake with jin in the dining room at four am and talking about life together to get the nightmares off tae’s mind

tae uses his magic on humans in a different way. like he doesn’t prank them that much, but rather manipulates their moods. he tries to charm anyone he comes in contact with to make them happy or to make them giggly

he wants to use his magic for good, because it often leaves a very painful burden on him in turn

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤: the prodigy

honestly i feel like if jungkook was a witch he’d probably be an underdeveloped one, you feel?

he finds out his power late bc either his family didn’t know (they’re all human) or they just didn’t tell him in hopes of him never becoming one

but jungkook is being bullied by some guys in his grade and they corner him after school one day and jungkook gets so frustrated that he just,,, makes them all start uncontrollably burping

as dumb as it is, those kids never bother jungkook again

when he does get a hang of it, jungkook probably uses his magic for fun more often than not

jungkook is recruited by jin for this very reason. he catches jungkook messing with old people at the park on his afternoon runs and he’s like this kid is such a brat. i want him

jungkook is SUCH a fast learner holy shit

he goes to namjoon for every little question, to the point where namjoon is positive he’s become a better witch simply because jungkook has prepared him for any fuckin scenario known to man

he also makes himself float upside down in the kitchen at night so when hoseok comes down for a glass of water he almost pisses himself

“haha did i scare you” 

cue hoseok making jungkook fall down as he mumbles “little shit” under his breath

halloween is his favorite time of year and he likes to pull harmless pranks on the kiddies while scaring the mean teenagers ruining all of the children’s fun

like he sees this guy in a deformed mask holding a plastic knife about to scare a little boy so Jungkook just gives the dude a wedgie with his magic

all the kids are laughing at him and jungkook just smirks

honestly he doesn’t like reading about magic as much as he likes just doing it from intuition/namjoon’s instruction. he’s a lot like hoseok in that he has a lot of natural talent but not a lot of proper training when he first starts honing his ability

since jin yoongi and namjoon are in charge of teaching magic they all hound on him like “did u do the reading”

jungkook maybe glosses over everything and then just over-performs as compensation

they get on him abt it but there’s no lying about it, jungkook is a strong witch on his own

he hasn’t gotten a special manifestation of his magic Just Yet but he only gets stronger as he goes. the more he applies himself, the stronger he grows

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow ch XI - For CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns​ Ch 11 / ?? - In which a monster hides in plain sight

The library had several Kitsune in it when Killian arrived, but as he climbed to the upper level, his immediate concern became the Dragon in the corner. Haku was furiously scribbling down information from a stack of books, throwing them aside in frustration. Killian made the pointed note to stay far away from him and whatever had caused his anger. 

The latest ledgers of the island census were missing as far back as five years, and many of the cultural or study of heritage scrolls were also missing as Killian searched for them amongst the rows. He found a few scrolls of painted art that showed depictions of what the rite aimed to do, though; a Fox spirit in full splendor attacking the barrier and breaking free, it's teeth and many tails shining on display. The actual rites were a mystery as he found those books missing too. 

On a sneaking suspicion, he glanced over at the piles of books Haku had stacked at the desk where he worked, still frantically taking down notes on whatever he was studying. Seeing the same bindings that matched the books in the series, Killian sighed. Of course the Dragon was using them. Resolving to wait, Killian read instead the long history recorded by what once were the Dragon elders, long gone now from the world.

In the beginning, there was fire, ice, air, and earth. We came from all four, the blending of these elements making way to the subtler magics, but leaving us perfect in primordial effortlessness. From the blending of the four came the Old Gods, the Elementals, and then magic itself. After that, time, then light and dark, followed as the Gods and Elementals made this world, and all the vast realities between. We found no use for time, for light, or darkness. Only magic, and only the elements were as wild as we. At one time we too could traverse the planes of existences, but that gift has been long lost to us. 

From magic and the elements came the old creatures, many lost to new as they burned too bright, stars bursting into a supernova, creating, changing and destroying the others. Kitsune, Draugr, Kraken, Gorgons, Sphinx, Harpies - they all come from the old magics, brought to life by their own will until there was either nothing left or just enough for permanence. 

Fire and ice made water, which made seas; earth and fire made jewels and metals, it forced rock from the seas that cooled into land. Air, earth, and water made forests that towered above the hungry ground while ice and air made snow, and water, fire, and air created storms. The Old Gods created their own beings from the many new elements that were created; starlight and moonbeams graced Elves as sunbeams and breezes molded the first Fae, born with wings. Dirt and jewels made Hob-Goblins sparkle like quartz, Anisapi the first to stand guard of places of power. Merfolk and the sea dwellers came together as foam that topped great waves and salt, the Gods loving their children as long as they could before their ends befell them. By war, sickness, age, or simply choice, they left the world to who they hoped would treasure it. 

The Old Gods did not teach their children enough, however. They did not teach their children to share, or warn them of the dangers they had kept hidden away. Trying to be like their creators, and with the last few Deities hanging on, an unknown coalition created mortals. While weak and without vitality, they were vicious, bred quickly in their short lives, and became impossible to eradicate. Before long, they were the dominant species of the world created for us. They learned our weaknesses, they learned how to take down the last of the Gods. They cornered us until something was done. 

The first wars cut lands from mortal hands and placed them in our own, establishing the sacred places that mortals should not tread. Even amongst the non-believing, the superstitions and deadly reminders of trespass passed easily through their generations. 

After that, space was limited amongst the races. A peaceful mountain dwelling species of Fae came under attack for their resources and labor by Jeoff N'lan, who imprisoned them. It wasn't until rumors of an insurrection came under the rule of his son, Jeorg N'lan, that their population was decimated. We know them now as - 

"Reading something good?" Emma's voice made him jump, and he came back to himself with a jolt. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he could practically taste the honey and sunshine smell that graced her. Coming out from behind him, she placed a picnic basket on the table as he closed the book and set it aside. "I didn't mean to make you jump, it must have been a good book -" 

"Interesting, but not necessarily good," Killian shrugged. He took in her appearance, as she had changed. She looked even better than she had previously, a red gown which had a square cut neckline, her body poured into it as he tried not to notice how lovely she looked. How did she not know the effect she had? He wondered it idly, trying to understand why he was even feeling the effect of her beauty. Sighing, she sat next to him, slumping with her head in her hands. He hesitated when he went to lay his hand on her shoulder, his eyes watching her chest rise, the sigh making her bosom press up, freezing him. 

"Killian, I am not sure how to say this," she began nervously, biting her lip. Under the light of the library, her eyes were sea glass in the sun, bright and sharp. Their appraisal snapped him out of his inappropriate trance, and he refocused quickly as he took in her words. "But I'm beginning to get a little bit scared. There's something off here, and after observing what they're proposing for this rite, I don't know -" 

A book slammed shut across from them, Haku looking at them with his steely eyed gaze. Emma rubbed her temples, body tensing. The Dragon strode over to them, leveling his glare at Emma from across the table. She looked away, and Killian immediately felt ready to spring, coiled in defense of her. 

"You know then, and you know that you could easily take her place?" Haku said quietly, his voice cold. Emma nodded, swallowing hard. 

"What is there to know? Your people chose the Maiden, Emma has nothing to do with -" Killian argued, but Haku let out a yell, his nails digging into the table. 

"You do not have any right to speak on this Dark One. If your grievances are absolved with this Royal, let mine be heard: Don't you feel any repentance for anything, or do you like the weight of your family's legacy on your shoulders?"

Emma closed her eyes, flinching when the Dragon brought his fist down on the table with a loud bang. 

"That's enough -" Killian hissed, but the Dragon shook his head. 

"It will never be enough. You were a hero to our people because you were the answer to the violence her family created, Dark One. We prayed for your return, your revenge on the Royal family, revenge on the Goblins - you were supposed to mete out justice. To think you were distracted by this, this silly girl!" Haku spat at Emma, and she yelped.

Killian ripped the Dragon across the table by his collar, blood pounding in his ears. Lifting his arms, he threw Haku, the Dragon stumbling into the bannister of the stairs down to the main level. 

"Get away from us," Killian hissed. 

"Gladly," Haku gritted out as he straightened, sending a pointed look at Emma.

Killian watched him walk away, Emma shaking in her seat. 

"What the bloody hell was that about?" he asked, before sitting next to her. She shook her head, seemingly trying to find words to explain. 

"These rites - Killian, I'm scared. I -" 

"There you are! Oh how quaint, a basket lunch. Who knew royals as far up in status as you knew how to prepare one," Maleficent purred, walking up the stairs. Lilly followed, her head bowed as she nervously fidgeted with her hands, Isaac trailing behind her. "You ran out so quickly Princess, we weren't done talking about coming to an agreement."

Emma looked up at Killian, pleading with her eyes. 

"The princess and I were talking about your rituals, actually, and thought we might have a moment alone -" 

"Yes of course, but later in the day. There's still so much to show her!" Maleficent purred, yanking Emma back, Lilly catching her as she stumbled. "Princess Emma still has things to see, but I'll leave Isaac here to help you with any questions. Lilly, make haste, come now girls."

Killian smiled apologetically, Emma's look of panic blocked by Isaac's body.  

"What do you want to know? I know almost everything in these books, and I'm the author of more than a few." The shorter man puffed up his chest proudly, and Killian inwardly screamed. Letting his jaw clench into something he hoped resembled a smile, he straightened. 

"I would like to know a bit about the workers I've seen around. The ones that wear the masks and the black outfits, are they a servant class or some leftover of the plague?" he asked, quickly moving to grab the books Haku had been using. Carrying them over, Isaac wrung his hands nervously. 

"Oh, the husks. The Dragons call them 'no faces' because of the masks and their woolen veils, but I think that's a tad tasteless," Isaac chuckled lightly. "They're those who have served us, starting back some sixty odd years. Those left live together with their attendants or with their families if their families so choose."

Killian narrowed his eyes. "Served you? They seem…" He trailed off, unable to find a way to make his meaning less blunt. 

"They seem 'gone'? Well yes, of course they do, and they should! They are fighting, their very essence of spirit attacking the barrier of this prison." Isaac grinned, spreading his palms upward. "That's what the rites are for, they create a trance like state that becomes greater every consecutive turn. This is the year we break free, I can feel it."

"And you want Emma to do this? What are the risks? Is there danger involved -"  

"Now now. The princess is surely capable of making her own choice or coming to you for counsel, yes?" Isaac asked, dropping his hands. His head quirked to the side, and he shrugged. "Besides - The only ones that fear are those who aren't faithful to our teachings. They believe that their loved ones are empty, faceless and lost, not that they are husks waiting for their successful return. The day comes that those still living will have a reunion of body and mind."

Killian thought about Haku's reaction, how vitriolic it was, and glanced at the stack of books. He returned Isaac's grin and nodded.

"Of course. Thank you for elucidating." 

Isaac bowed, backing away. "It was my pleasure to illuminate. I must be off to see to final preparations. Should Emma return, see that you remember our chat? It would certainly help win favor for an alliance."

"Of course, of course. We'll go through the process together if she wishes, and make a decision." Killian watched Isaac's smile falter marginally, confirming his suspicion. 

"Very good then. See that you do." Isaac turned, leaving the library, as Killian furiously began to dig through what Haku had left. The results were frustratingly vague answers about ‘glory to the Kitsune’, who in theory would break through the initial ward, but the magic didn't relate to any sort Killian understood or any ruminations that he was aware of. If anything, it seemed that someone with enough energy could potentially pierce the island's barrier, but any type of assault would need to be targeted, not blanketed as the current ritualistic attempts suggested. The ritual itself was vague, barely described besides a few mentions of a story being written that seemed to usher the chosen into some sort of astral state. 

There was nothing referencing any method in which a husk could be saved, Haku's notes in the margins seemingly indicating that he too had come to the same conclusion. A highlighted passage seemed to be confirmation of this, citing a tethered link being ripped away. Emma could not go through with whatever this was. The thought of her as a stumbling and soulless thing made him feel ill, the image in his mind of her eyes gone gray making him irrationally angry. The island's leaders had to know that this was wrong. A drawing Haku had made of a dome over what must be the island showed what looked like to be fractures, referencing another book on spellcraft, specifically breaking long lasting protection wards. There it showed a sketched illustration of an immortality enshrining spell being fractured while remaining unbroken, resulting in the shamaness inside not retaining her beauty as intended, aging as she should have whilst still remaining alive. Killian shuddered at the thought. 

A dog eared page caught his attention. Haku was a methodical researcher, his notes precise as he followed this ritual to its origins. The marked page was out of place in that regard - a sleeping draughts of great potency, one similar to the sleeping death he himself had given the Queen of the United Realm's, Emma's mother, under the Goblin King’s command. She was famous for overcoming it during the war and her kiss with the man she would later choose to rule by her side had led to his capture. This was not quite that curse, which had taken a great deal of dark magic to create, and ingredients Killian did not want to deal in again if at all possible. It was lesser in its extremity, seemingly focused on lucid dreaming or actively blending the dreams of others with one's own. Did the ritual require some sort of unwaking sleep? That thought was chilling as well, dreams and the magic behind their power were widely known for their unpredictable nature, and Emma’s dreams were beyond powerful and erratic. 

"It seems like you have had an easier day than me. Maybe I'll read, and you go play politics?" 

Emma's voice startled him, and he turned as he stood, almost knocking her over. She looked different than he had last seen her, her eyes kohled and lips red. If the red dress he had seen her in earlier had not attempted to kill him with impropriety, the outfit she wore now had every chance. 

The black dress was by all measure sinful in every facet of its design, and the exhale he gave was choked as she stepped in closer to place her hands on his arms. The pitch black velvet clung to every inch of her toned body, half corset tight but allowing the fullness of her curves, the neckline plunging, and the skirt slit on both sides. A red necklace hung heavy around her neck, the color a deep crimson that seemed to absorb the light. He’d been attracted to the princess before, she was beautiful as it were, but never had he wanted so much to act on it. Not only because of the dress, but because of the way her lips parted, the concerned way she looked at him through the dulled gray green of her eyes under the library lights, her red nails slightly digging into his sleeves - 

As she steadied herself, Killian felt himself falling, unable to catch himself in the sudden vertigo. 

"Emma," he breathed, and her eyes seemed to glint with mischief at how her name was practically wheezed out. He had to compose himself, had to get control - 

Emma leaned in, rising on her toes. 

"I've been waiting to get you alone all day," she whispered, smiling softly, as if she hadn't just made his brain explode. "About earlier -" 

He cleared his dry throat, suddenly far too hot. "Yes, ah, about earlier; you shouldn't go through with anything they try to pressure you into -" 

She laughed, looking at him with amusement. "Oh, no, I know that. What I meant is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier."

He blinked, and while one hand held her steady on his forearm, the fingers on her other hand played with the lacing of the collar of his shirt. Breathing seemed harder, requiring thought. 

"It wasn't about your fears involving the rites here, and the alliance?" Killian asked, and she shook her head. Looking down for a moment, chewing her lip as she let go of him, Emma eyes flitted up at him through her lashes. Taking his hand and squeezing it lightly, she smiled warmly. 

"So… Um. I was scared about talking to you, about finding the right things to say that would make sense. The thing is though… I'm not scared anymore. I feel like I know the answers to my fears just by being near you. You've been so different lately, and I feel like I know you so much better."

"I - I uh - Princess, what is it you're…?"

"You're blushing! Please I don't mean to - oh no -" 

"I'm just not sure what you're trying to convey here, love," he managed to get out, her own face heating in time with his ears. The dress was again another hurdle to his calm, the black velvet slipped tight over the farthest curve of her breasts where it could sit at without being indecent. The color in her face was settling there too, and he dragged his eyes upwards with force. 

Emma stepped forward, and he noticed that she had even streaked her hair jet black in a few places. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips, trying to fight the wave of carnal thoughts that had suddenly bloomed in his mind. She was so lovely, would feel so right curling into him as he tasted her berry colored lips, finally chasing her properly. What was wrong with him?  Where did these indecent thoughts come from - they had been contained when the Darkness had seemed to be held at bay, and yet here on the isle among the festival goers, it roared to life. 

"Killian, you don't know? I've been thinking about what I want, what we mean to each other -" Killian snapped out of the fantasy with difficulty, as if it had tried to trap him or had used some sort of charm on him. Her words didn't seem real, and he rolled them over in his thoughts. 

"What we mean to each other?" he asked. "Wait, Emma, are you suggesting that you - you feel - you want -" 

"I'm not suggesting anything, Killian," she murmured, and he thanked the Gods for approximately six seconds, before her next words fried his brain. "I'm telling you that I think I want something more from you than friendship."

"I --- I -, er… I am -" 

"Aye to you, too. Come find me later, and I'll tell you what I decided. I think you'll be very pleased." Emma twisted her red necklace in her fingers, looking up shyly at him through her lashes. "I know I am."

Another wave of want hit him, stronger than before, his mind going fuzzy at the edges. Emma was too close to him, and yet she stepped closer; he could smell the smokiness of her, the pine woods, soot, chilies, and rice wine. Vaguely he wondered why she didn't smell of her usual honey, vanilla, cinnamon, and rose, but the thought vanished when she pressed her lips to his cheek. 

Quickly retreating as he cupped his cheek, she waved goodbye, leaving down the path from the library with confident steps. 

Killian felt the small ember he carefully stoked inside the most protected regions of his being turn into a flame, hope surging as he tried to focus on anything but his confirmed feelings for the princess. For Emma. The books he tried to read could not hold his attention; nothing could draw him from his racing thoughts. 

He found a note pinned on the outer side of the door as he was leaving, telling him to meet her on the high cliffs as soon as he could, which left him feeling elated, and he smiled at the thought of trying to figure things out with her. The Darkness had been under control, she was always nearby if it wasn't, and her magic was strong. She was smart, unfailing in her kindness, brave, and he had been denying his feelings for so long. Tonight he would deny her just for a few moments longer, all to court her properly. 

There was a flower vendor for the festival he had seen earlier when walking with Mushu, her cart filled with crowns of marigold, chrysanthemums, eucalyptus and carnations. He had also seen a sweet vendor that had marzipan sculptures, noticing the swan immediately. He had planned to get it for her before they left, but tonight was much more perfect. Both in hand as fast as possible, he hoped Emma wouldn't mind his late arrival. If anything, she would be too delighted by the gifts, and Killian could finally, finally do what he realized he wanted for so long - 

"Love, if you think helping the denizens of this isle is a worthy cause, who am I to ever argue with you?" 

Killian froze, turning to the sound that sent chills down his spine. Someone was talking in his voice, a scarily good imitation of it as well. 

"When have you been wrong, Swan? When have you not risen above your challenges?"

"You're right, Killian." 

Emma's voice. His stomach dropped. Moving closer to the conversation tucked into a small aisle behind tents, he saw Emma in her red dress, and himself. Or, a poor facsimile of himself; there were a few streaks of white in his hair, and his nails seemed pointer even in the dim light. The doppelganger seemed to notice, carding a hand through, covering the white with his palm and burying them there. The other hand went snugly into his pocket. 

"I know. I have no fear for you either, so take that as reassurance. After you succeed, it will be easy to take on the Darkness… and we could…" The fake slipped an arm around her waist, tipping her chin up and stroking her face. It was like a punch in the gut, the way she blushed and swooned so innocently, the reaction so sharply different than her earlier forwardness. Killian felt the growing suspicion that it wasn't Emma that had visited him but another, realizing with anger that his feelings had been twisted into vulnerability. 

"We can talk about something more, what comes next. A future," his double whispered, laying his forehead against Emma’s. 

"I'd like that," she replied as she smiled. 

Killian began walking towards them, his rage boiling over at this deceit and jealousy that flamed into a blaze. The manipulation that was in play to create the idea she actually - that she could possibly feel something like that for him and that they could make something work; the idea was ridiculous when laid out. The princess being courted by the war criminal. Jealousy wasn't what he was feeling; he couldn't be jealous when she had been tricked, or when he had been weak. Emma didn't want anything from him, truly. He moved through the tents, following Emma to make sure that she put distance between herself and his fake, watching her through the gaps. In the cage he held tightly closed, the Darkness rattled. It took in a gasp of air, straining in its bonds. 

No one could ever want you, stupid, weak, petulant man. 

No one.  

No one, and especially not her . 

Someone so good, you would break her, you would never work. 

Never . 

Imagine what scars you would give her, imagine how easily she would see how pathetic you are… 

He stumbled, felt the pressure of someone strong on his back as he struggled, albeit briefly. A cloth was pushed over his mouth and nose, a prick of some sort of dart hitting both sides of his neck one after the other. It took seconds for his eyes to go bleary, the world spinning as he fell. 

Haku looked down at him, frowning. 

"I'm sorry," Haku whispered. The words swam along with everything else in his vision, but Killian valiantly tried to crawl towards where Emma had been, following the sound of his voice, his voice used by another. 

"Hurry now love. Don't leave Isaac waiting; they'll need you as soon as possible."

Emma's voice was bright as she called over her shoulder with a wave, unaware of Killian’s groan as he reached for her, unseen behind the many tents as Haku dragged him away. 

"I'll be seeing you soon, Killian."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The amount of interference and pressure the combined Dragon royals and the Kitsune leaders held all day on Emma was absolutely unbearable. At the beginning of the morning, Lilly had dragged her to a bathhouse, the beauty and ornateness of the place overshadowed by the obnoxiously rude company. Emma was given a robe like wrap made of thick damask, golden fish swimming on the blue fabric. Lilly helped her put it on, ignoring Emma's objections at her intrusion while she was partially nude. 

Chihiro wore a white gown, not making a sound even with bells tied in her long black hair. They glinted in the sunshine along with her braided ribbon as they all moved through the hallways, polished wood catching their many colored reflections. A paper screen door opened to reveal a large bath surrounded by rocks, a waterfall cascading into the steaming pool. One by one the women disrobed, dipping themselves, and Emma followed suit with a blush. The water felt heavenly, even if the conversation was not. 

"So, the women as a congregation join the Maiden in her cleansing, where we all purify ourselves and commune with our ancestors," Lilly sighed, kicking her toes out of the water. From across the steam, Emma could see the great plumes of green smoke coming from where Cruella sat. When the steam parted, Cruella's eyes were focused solely on her, giving Emma chills even in the heat. "After this, we go get massages, then we get facials, then tea. Then we take a processional walk through the sand gardens, after which we do a lantern ceremony in the turtle pond. Lastly, we head to the cathedral for the final rites."

"I have plans to lunch with Killian -" Emma said cautiously, biting  her lip. 

"Because of course you do," Lilly said with an eye roll. 

Emma smiled innocently. "Is there a way I can sneak away at some point?" She batted her eyes and Lilly snorted. 

"Yes, of course there is," Lilly sighed, annoyed. "But getting a chance to while fielding my Mother and Cruella is going to be tricky for you. After this, that is. Enjoy the reprieve while you have it."

"Oh no, really?" Emma let herself whine. While unbecoming, it worked effectively well for Lilly, and was fair turnabout. "Lilly, will you buy me some time? You owe me for last night."

Lilly's eyes became more cool, and calculated. She looked at Emma conspiratorially, pointing up a finger before wagging it in her direction. "Alright. One condition though." 

"Sure, I guess?" Emma said with a slight shrug. Realizing the current situation, she let herself float her toes up and down in the water in slow kicks, adding with a little edge of warning, 

"Just don't be weird" 

Lilly nodded, looking away. The Dragon collected herself, looking resolute as she began to speak in a slow and careful manner. "You've heard a lot about how much people want you to do this, but today you are going to hear some of the why. I want you to hear my reasons." Taking a deep breath, she continued while obviously trying to keep from speaking too fast. "I don't love Mushu. He's like a brother to me, a truly close friend, but I don't and have never loved him. I don't believe he feels anything for me either, but I don't care to know in fear of sympathy winning me over. We simply don't have any other options - the royal lineage either goes on, or dies with me. Unless we escape. Unless somewhere, pockets of dragons survived that did not follow the call of our elders - then I am like you, forced into a loveless marriage."

Emma had to bite off the urge she had to scoff. 

"I mean, not quite, but sure I guess. What other reasons are there?" 

"There's a lot, Emma. A whole lot. This barrier is killing us, and killing any chances of a future for the entire island." Lilly grimaced, closing her eyes. "I hate everything that the pressure from all sides under it has made us become; made me become. I hate what it's done to my family."

"I’m truly sorry, Lilly. I will try to consider this as I make my decision." Emma patted her hand, and Lilly smirked, pawing an eye. 

"Yeah," Lilly bit out, the teasing quality in her voice softer. "As I pressure you. Fiore, there's no end in sight. Come, let us at least get this tension lifted from our shoulders."

She rose along with a few others, stepping into beautiful thick silk robe like dresses held by attendants. Emma followed, letting herself be ushered into a small room with a table in the center, a paneled paper divider opening revealing a room beyond that with the same layout as the first. With the divider pushed in to halve the start of the room, Emma was led to the further table while Lilly was disrobed. Emma's attendant followed by taking her own robe, laying Emma down so she could only see Lilly's head and shoulders her own attendant was pouring oil over her upper back. Emma felt the liquid slip over her own, flinching, before practiced fingers pressed long held tension away. She tried not to moan loudly, her body coiled tight since before she had fallen into this world. 

Neither Lilly or the attendants were conversationalists, nor were there interruptions, leading Emma to daydream contently like she had done before falling through the portal into this world. After what felt like only a few minutes, Lilly's snoring joined the quiet sounds of hands working their bodies, and Emma let herself doze in and out, feeling safe for the first time in… 

A part of Emma struggled to give the answer, torn. It should have been before Nil, and before her life was thrown off its natural course, but the truth that had popped immediately into her mind confused her. As did the fact her daydreaming kept leading her to strange places, and thoughts that were untoward, childish, and ridiculous. The last time she felt safe was much more recently, to only the last night Killian laid next to her. She'd woken from the same recurring nightmare, Nil advancing just a bit further each time, but Killian had been there immediately with his arms around her tightly. 

He'd mumbled a mixture of soft, soothing things in a rough voice heavy with sleep, letting her face lay against his chest so she could hear his steady heartbeat, feel his breathing, bringing herself to calm as his nose buried in her hair. There was a sort of intense intimacy in that, and she had woken when he had begun to pull away gradually, slowly even. He began growing more fitful and Emma had struggled not to wonder if it was because he wasn't tired, but if instead… If whatever part of him that governed sleep, governed the way his innuendos had stopped, or governed the way he was when he was drunk enough to hold her close had wanted him to stay that way. Either way, she had felt cozy, and fiercely protected by him. 

Her daydreaming was not protected from him though, and had been wandering to the feel of his hands on her thigh, the way she knew his lips were soft, the secret way his fingers trailing from her curls to trace patterns on her shoulder when he comforted her, and what it might be like to have the silly idea that he felt even the slightest attraction to her be not so silly. Graham had once brought her flowers, before her father's intervention, but Emma wondered if he would court her in the modern ways of the world outside the barrier, the ways of the strict rules her parents might expect, or even the traditions here that were bits of both with their own unique twists. Killian would be a gentleman no matter how long the path the courtship was, and for that reason she felt even more longing for him. 

Maybe Lilly was right and they did both want each other? Emma drifted further into the pleasure of that idea, even as noise started in Lilly's room. The eventual heated tone and rising volume of an argument brought Emma back from her musings with quickness. 

"She should meet her, Father Isaac says to have faith and I have. I've been faithful since both sets of our parents were taken, and I've been faithful waiting for Aurora. This is a chance for her. It's like she isn't even there anymore. I can't even remember the blue of her eyes, her eyes used to be blue, almost violet. Now they're that wretched, empty, gray - "

"Phillip, be calm and be silent, I'm working on it. I don't want to pressure her and all of you are making it very difficult," Lilly hissed lowly. "Trust me, I want this as much as you, but we can't just tell them that this is a potential outcome when they don't understand."

" I don't understand. I don't understand why it feels like Aurora isn't even in there anymore. I miss her so much; we were trying to start a family and then this happened. When she gets back, if she gets back, how much time will be left?" The man's voice was growing more plaintive, and Emma tried to control her breathing to maintain the illusion she was sleeping. Her attendant hesitantly moved away, and Emma risked a glance at Lilly's room. 

The Dragon was in another of the heavy silken damask robe dresses speaking with an angry looking man, one who could only be Phillip. He was tall and broad, deep chestnut hair and a boyish face that was well tanned. Next to him stood a husk, its black cowl and mask still even as Phillip gesticulated. 

Emma had felt the strangeness of the husks pull before, attributing it to the island's own unique feeling of arcane forces. Everything on the island pulled at her, as if the ground was trying to absorb the very elements it was created from, starved of its own power. The husks were like this, but with the force of a cyclone, a gaping maw of a vacuum that demanded to be filled. This husk was no different, the stillness of it betrayed by how it gave off a dark and desperate feeling of need. 

"Please, you need to -" 

"I don't need to do anything, especially when you aren't even included in the lottery!" the man yelled. 

"Yes," Lilly drawled, sounding annoyed but dismissive. "Being on the door of extinction as a species is the epitome of an exit strategy. Bravo Phillip, you figured it out."

"Lilly, you know what I mean! I don't know how anyone else does it. She isn't Aurora anymore; she doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, doesn't talk or smile or sing - I miss her singing. I used to complain about her singing all the time and now, and now I -" 

"We need to talk somewhere else; the princess is going to wake up and I'm going to have to -" 

Emma's attendant closed the screen between their rooms, separating them once again, and leaving Emma alone as the voices carried out into the hall. The silence was not broken by any attendant, and Emma rose quietly to sit. A beautiful dress of her own sat out, in the same traditional style as Lilly's. It was a soft violet, patterned with swans, and cherry blossom blooms. Lilly had helped her tie the previous dress in the style they wore, a thick bow on the back accented with sparkling ropes that ended in beading or bells, but Emma found it was very difficult to do herself. With a few muttered curses, she managed to get it in some type of semblance just as she heard shuffling steps on the other side of the divider.

"Lilly is that you?" she called quietly. The answering noise of a soft keen came from the other room. Emma huffed out a breath as she tried to adjust the bow again. "Oh, good. Will you help me with this? I'm afraid I have it a bit askew."

The footsteps shuffled slowly to the sliding door, waiting there. Lilly let out a small moaning noise, and Emma rolled her eyes as she walked to the door herself, holding the dress in place the best she could with one hand. She attempted to push the sliding door, but it did not budge, Lilly's side holding fast. 

"Lilly, is your side stuck?" Emma asked, surprised at how quiet Lilly was being. As she thought about it, she wondered if the argument between Phillip had gone so poorly as to mollify her friend into contrition, a feeling of intense anger and upset pouring from the other side of the door. Emma swallowed hard, ready to hold knowing about the fight tightly to her chest until it could be used to her advantage. If Lilly was involved in any sort of trickery, it might be easier to coax it out with this information. The thought made her sad, but it wasn't as if it was unlikely. 

Lilly rasped something on the other side of the door, Emma's ears unable to make it out. Another soft moan followed, and a strange 'Ah' sound was heard as the divider door rattled. Emma pressed again, but the divider screen stuck firmly on its track, not sliding to open at all. Lilly was holding it shut. 

"Lilly, this isn't funny. What are you playing at?" Emma grunted, pushing harder, but the door did not give despite her best efforts. Lilly held fast on her side, her breathing heavy. Emma felt uneasy, letting go of the screen as a chorus of whispers and strange moans broke out in many voices behind the door where Lilly stood. 

The lights in Emma's room, a few simple paper lamps, went out suddenly all at once as the divider door began to rattle. From the brightness of the other room, shadows showed against the paper, people filling the space as they pressed against the divider wall, hands silently beating and clawing. Emma's hands covered her mouth as she backed up further, until she ran into the table she had been sitting on, the rattling of the door becoming louder. The voices converged, no longer whispering but now many chanting the same words against the paper.  

"Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungryyyy…!" 

The rattling stopped, the lamps in the other room going out. The divider stood dark in the pitch of the room, everything silent but Emma's thundering heart. As her eyes adjusted, she heard the door slowly slide open, her panic at what lie behind too much, too much, something was in that shadow waiting - 

The door slid open fully, revealing nothing on the other side. Emma let out a nervous laugh, her hands shaking as she lowered them. Taking deep breaths, she steadied herself, and began to put things together. 

This was obviously a Kitsune trick, Lilly most likely involved as well. It wasn't as if she shouldn't have expected it; Lilly had warned her enough times about their prankster ways and Emma's own distinct lack of popularity. 

Walking toward the door to leave, she was surprised to meet a solid black wall as she bounced back from it. The divider was blocked by a black surface, that when pressed was slightly opaque as it let her hand sink slightly. It reminded her of the Selkies flesh when they wore their pelts, the blubbery skin letting her hand sink a bit as she petted. This was not soft or furry like that however, but like that of a great mottled toad. Emma pulled her hand away and it came back wet, a black viscous slime sticking to her palm. She flicked it away, taking a step back and letting her other hand card over her face and into the crown of her hair. 

Wet and warm gunk fell on her hand and into her hair, her fingers pulling away in shock as she examined the sticky, clear, bubbled slime. It looked like some sort of saliva, strangely enough - Another glob hit her head, and she looked up. 

The husk mask was in the middle of the ceiling on a great thing , its mass huge and stretched. Black spider like arms pressed to the corners to hold its own bloated weight, its torso was stretched up through the divider, like some sort of slug. Under the mask, a dark mouth opened displaying broad, flat, teeth the size of dinner plates. A tongue lolled out slowly, dripping more thick dollops of drool. 

A single small 'Ah' came from its throat, causing Emma's eyes to go wide with terror. She felt rooted on the spot, unable to move; a glance down quickly confirming another set of arms had wrapped around her, a hand with two long fingers encircling her body. The thing smiled at her with its uneven teeth, lifting her as she tried to remember how to scream. 

"Hungry!" it roared, Emma finally shrieking in its grasp as its long tongue wrapped around her and she was plunged into its mouth. 

Images assaulted her, the smell of the creature acrid, musky, and cloying. 

An older woman sipping tea with deep wrinkles around her brown eyes. A dark haired man making smoke rings, his young son clapping at the shapes. A woman with a patient smile and raven curls tucking in the beds of children she has taken in to mother, afraid of nothing more than orphaning them again. A man with a beard and mustache the color of wetted stone, his eyes tired but posture proud. A beautiful maiden singing while gathering blueberries, her golden blonde hair catching on the sunlight as birds sung along. An older boy playing ball on the shore, shaggy hair in his eyes as he ran, his grin huge. A plump woman with reddish curls and a saucy smile, throwing tiles in some sort of game. A sullen young man with a shock of red hair, his tall height able to reach books in the library he needed. 

The voices grew louder still, her head pounding and ears ringing. 

"HUNGRY. HUNGRY!" 

A soft, melodious woman's voice sung through the noise, overcoming it. Emma recognized it as the tune she had heard in the strange vision of the woman picking blueberries. Her pretty words were hurried as if she was out of breath. 

  "Help us. Please, help us."

  The woman was swallowed by the noise again, the thing bellowing out its hunger as Emma felt its rage at being so hollow, desperate for anything to make it whole. It tore at itself as it screamed in fury, Emma's own screams lost under its cries. Hands clawed at her, shaking her as she struggled in the increasing pressure of the blackness; it would crush her surely, and soon she would be without air. 

A hard pinch on her side made her yelp, the noise fading as she opened her eyes to meet Lilly's look of annoyance. 

"What are you doing? Why are you down there freaking out like that?" she asked, pulling Emma up by her elbow. Shaking, Emma looked around the room, the husk standing in the corner with its face to the wall. Its mask lay on the floor between them, and Emma backed away as she pointed at it, unable to form words.

Lilly looked at the husk and shook her head. "Yeah, they do that sometimes. They like to be behind things, as if they find comfort in not seeing or not being seen. The masks help with that."

"No, no, that thing - it attacked me!" Emma blurted, and Lilly raised an eyebrow before laughing raucously. "Lilly, it tried to eat me or did, it was -" 

"Husks don't do anything unless you patiently, and I mean patiently, teach them. Even then, it can't be a complicated task or they'll wander off in search of some wall or cubby hole to stick their head in." Lilly shook her head as she giggled. "They don't eat or sleep, don't talk at all, so if you saw something it was most likely not her."

"But she - it did! It was a monster Lilly; it spoke to me and told me it was hungry. I don't know how I -" 

"If Aurora could speak, she would not have wasted her voice on you," a male voice said coldly. Phillip brushed past Lilly and into the room, sighing with frustration as he picked up the discarded mask. "If Aurora could speak, she'd talk to her husband who has been waiting for her to come back since she laid down in that cathedral and this took her place. She would answer when I ask her questions, where she went, if she's safe, and if she's coming back like she promised… she promised me… " His voice broke, and Emma looked down at her bare feet with shame. 

"Phillip, it was probably a Kit trick on her; she doesn't know about how difficult it is -" Lilly soothed, moving closer to Phillip. He instead turned, pulling the husk from the corner and facing it towards Emma. 

"Does this look like a monster to you?" he asked, his voice and body tense. 

The husk's face was visible in its habit, everything else swathed in black. She was pretty, her features familiar to Emma although it was difficult to place them or why the woman made her neck hair rise in nervousness. 

Emma shook her head indicating no, averting her eyes to once again look at her feet. 

"Kitsune wouldn't cross the line with this sort of prank. It could have gotten Aurora hurt, and she wouldn't be able to come back. No Kit would dare." He prodded a finger at Lilly, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

"If you're implying it was one of us -" Lilly began, her voice going steely. Phillip interrupted without pause. 

"I'm implying that I want no part in games, or politics any longer. This was a mistake." He held the husk a bit tighter, running a hand over the black fabric that covered her head. His voice softened. "I only want Aurora back." 

"I hope she comes back to you soon," Emma said lightly. "And I am sorry. I know what I saw, but never meant to -" 

"Keep the rest of your apology, princess. The beginning was enough," Phillip said coldly. He ushered the husk to the far door, its habit now askew revealing long golden blonde hair. Once placed back over her head, he placed the mask over where only her face was visible. Emma watched them go, now convinced that the woman with the blueberries who had sung and begged for help was none other than Aurora. 

Lilly interrupted her thinking. "So did you drink some special tea, or something? Or did you see smoke?" 

"Forget about it, Lilly," Emma whispered. "I… I think I'm ready to go have lunch with Killian. Can you help me steal away with a picnic basket?" 

"I can, but not for long. We slept through some of the minor traditions, so the next are really important. We have the communion with the spirits and the sacred tea ceremony before Chihiro drinks her own to traverse the veil." Lilly leaned against the table Emma had been massaged on, thinking hard. "My mother and Cruella surely have plans to grill you before that. You'll have to be quick, and leave as soon as we finish the bell ceremony in the cathedral."

"I can be. Also, not to be terribly rude, but…" Emma bit her lip and displayed her very askew and barely secured dress for Lilly's appraisal. "I would very much like to wear something that does not require so much tying and folding, please."

Lilly rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. Dragging Emma to a closet near the entrance of the bath house, she pulled out a few dresses before pushing them back in the overfilled space. Finally she found one that suited her discernment, giving it to Emma. 

"This will work. Red protects from bad spirits, and collects energy. It gives power. It suits you." Lilly helped Emma out of her dress (what Lilly called a Yukata, and Emma sighed in defeat at Lilly's, pristine and tied tight) and into the red dress. It was barely corseted, which seemed to be in favor here on the island, with a square neckline and a flare at the hips that led to a full skirt. The red was a deeply pigmented crimson, the sleeves and way the dress fit on her body as if it was made for her. 

Lilly walked with her to the cathedral, a picnic basket hidden between their skirts that they had pilfered from the kitchens in the bathhouse. 

"So we drink this tea, to commune with spirits, and Chihiro drinks a special blend of it?" Emma whispered as they walked along the path to another ornate building. Lilly nodded. "Why?" 

"The tea allows her to traverse the veil, gaining power and trust from the other spirits. She will undergo trials that allow her to command a targeted attack of the barrier, which can only be achieved by strengthening herself," Lilly intoned.  

Entering the cathedral was like being thrown into ice water. The power that lurked there and the energy made her feel queasy, the ever present feeling of wrongness heightened and magnified under the splendor of its roof. She ran to see Killian, but was cornered before she could explain anything, led back by Lilly and her mother. 

It was enough to send Emma into an uneasy conflict with herself and the power of her magic. The scope of how broken the barrier spell seemed to be, the chaotic anger of the spirits chipping away at it, how magic itself was decaying in swaths underneath it along with the population - the mounting pressure was enormous without the heavy handed encouragement of the involved parties. Later, she stumbled out of the cathedral without grace into the fresh air, her mind full of questions. A fair of sorts was being set up while the Maiden began her sleep, and Emma walked among the tents idly looking at the sugar sculptures, glass beads, dream catchers, and charms while trying to seek out Killian, finding him nowhere. 

She saw him turn the corner out of the corner her eye, spinning to look to where he had gone, but he seemed to round the opposite corner in the reflection cast by a gilded hand mirror in a booth. Emma felt herself getting lost even among the small amount of vendors, following phantoms that turned out to be mist with frustration. A hand caught her shoulder, and with relief she turned to find Killian smirking at her. 

"Looking for someone, pet?" he teased, and she sighed through a huff at his humor at her expense. In the light, his hair seemed to gleam silver, almost white, but she shook off the strange ideas that seemed to be whispered in the air surrounding them, surprised by the boldness of her imagination. It was not the time to think about how silky his uncut fringe would be between her fingers, or how soft he'd kiss below her neck if she was someone he wanted. 

"Princess?" Killian whispered salaciously, as if reading her thoughts. Emma's knees seemed to grow suddenly weaker, to her great concern, but that only made her resolve grow stronger. 

Straightening her shoulders, she spoke firmly as not to be tongue tied. "I felt unsettled, and I came to you. I have to ask of you to help me make a decision. Do you think I should take Chihiro's place and undergo this rite myself? Do you believe that it will help both sides?"

"It's the best thing we've got to get them allied to our cause. Give them everything you have. You have a reputation for being the Savior to live up to, after all." He was acting strangely, his usual nervous ear scratch replaced by scratching at his neck. His nails seemed sharper, but the light was poor as the sun fell. Emma laid a hand on his and he flinched away, bowing his head slightly. He buried a hand in his hair, looking bashful, before taking a deep breath to look at her with a sort of pride. 

"Love, if you think helping the denizens of this isle is a worthy endeavor, who am I to ever argue with you? When have you been wrong, Swan? When have you not risen above your challenges?" He searched her face, and for a moment she thought Lilly might be right about him feeling something. The idea made her stomach flutter with hope. 

Emma sighed. "You're right, Killian." 

He stepped closer, and her heart felt as if it might pound out of her chest. He'd been so forward here, but she never thought or would have even guessed that he had any interest in her, or intentions. Emma let him fill her space, the idea of him wanting to court her, or the thought of the thousands of ridiculous romances she was able to have Ruby sneak her into the castle and the scenarios therein, made her think longingly of what she possibly wanted. That is, possibly wanted with him . 

"I know. I have no fear for you either, so take that as reassurance. After you succeed, it will be easy to take on the Darkness… and we could…" Her heart skipped a beat, Killian slipping an arm around her waist, tipping her chin up and stroking her cheek. It was as if there wasn't enough air in her lungs. Blushing, she fell forward into him slightly because of dizziness. It was so warm, the night air not cooling her skin any longer, and indecent thoughts of everything he could do to her were like a spring garden's flowers, ready to be picked. 

Emma tried to speak, but couldn't find the words to do so. She settled for breathing his name out on a whisper, watching him smirk. As the wind blew gently, his eyes softened. 

"We can talk about something more, what comes next. A future." His whisper while laying his forehead against her own was so tender. 

"I'd like that." She smiled. 

"Hurry now love. Don't leave Isaac waiting, they'll need you as soon as possible."

"I'll be seeing you soon, Killian."

He gave her a wave, and she did not hear him whisper under his breath, his voice becoming a feminine purr. 

"Sweet dreams, princess."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Emma was found wandering the beach in a silken gown, with no memories of how she had gotten there. The village on the island was abuzz with it; nothing like the strangeness that her arrival heralded happened in the Blackwater, excitement in short supply. Not only was she a wisp of a thing, but she could not be a day older than seven or eight to his eleven or Liam and Elsa's fourteen. Liam had taken him to the shore to watch alongside the others as Isaac held her hand, helping her off the small beach and up the cliff side. There, hidden in the trees where no one could see, Emma Swan looked at him for the first time, her green eyes like another forest he could lose himself in. His father and mother had chastised him over dinner - worrying about some peasant girl was not fitting for his social stance as a Blackwater lordling. 

The next time he saw her, she was dancing at a harvest ball, her hair braided with autumn leaves and ribbon. It had been several years, his interest in girls going slightly beyond love notes and hand holding if that. She still drew his eyes, spinning lazily in her embroidered gown, looking like a falling blossom. Even Liam had been caught by her spell, and Killian had secretly hated him for his boldness and smooth confidence as he walked toward her. 

She froze when Liam asked her for a dance, looking at him with such confusion, as if he was a ghost. Sir Isaac ushered her away, and Killian shrugged. Liam told him later that the petrified girl had told him that he wasn't real, and had asked for Killian by name. She hadn't used proper titleage or etiquette, just his name again and again more shrill in each utterance, until Isaac took her to rest at his home. 

No one could say what happened, other than she was ill. Some said that she mumbled madly about both the future and the past, events that would come to pass or secrets that she should not know. Tongues wagged in the Blackwater; finding the truth therein was like finding a needle in a haystack. 

The seasons changed, no questions answered, and Emma was rarely around to create enough intrigue for questioning. The questions stopped eventually as she became the village herbalist, sending her wares down the mountain from her cliffside cabin with her friend Lilly. His good friend and the Lady of the Baelfire side of the Isle, Milah, confessed she had never bought Emma's strange remedies - but she credited that to her renouncing witchcraft in all forms, her name safe from spells and mind safe from the sale of esoterics. 

Magic ran rampant through the Blackwater, as they were all Fae, but it was taboo to do more than simple charms or common place spellwork. Potions, incantations, divining the future, enchanting, and the many manners of magic Emma did easily made her an outcast - and Milah agreed with the townsfolk that Emma was in league with a Demon, making her a witch. Rumors swirled that the Demon had stolen her sanity as payment for her skills. On some nights if you looked to the cliffs, a strange glow in many different colors radiated from Emma's small cabin. That did little to quell rumors. 

Life in the village went on. Killian and Milah grew closer, and they fell in love in a whirlwind romance that seemed to take the entire Blackwater with it. Their marriage was expected, and easily approved. As soon as their small home was up near the library Killian dutifully cared for, his brother followed suit. Liam and Elsa married, much to his father’s, Ingrid's, and Nemo's delight. His mother was gone for several years now, but he thought she would be proud of her children. 

Unlike the intimate affair Killian had held, the entire village was present for Liam’s marital feast. 

Including Emma. 

Her hair was in a wild braid, her dress without corseture or boning, flowing in swaths of mossy green cotton. Her fingers were stained in different colors, ranging from ochre to blackberry, crimson to indigo. 

And her eyes. They were suddenly the brightest green Killian had ever seen. 

Milah begged him not to say hello to Emma, making a symbol with her thumb, index and smallest finger that likened the woman with having horns. Like the rest of the villagers, her belief that Emma was a Demon-led witch held strong, even as they bought her herbal remedies from Lilly. Killian obliged, as not to upset his wife. In the end it was wise. As his brother stood to give a toast with Elsa looking on in adoration, there was a struggle in the back of the room. Emma was wild eyed, pointing at Liam and Elsa. 

"This is - it's impossible, this doesn't - please I don't understand, this isn't real! Someone help, why is this being shown to me? I need to get out of here, these are ghosts, memories - They aren't real! You are dead! Dead!" 

Emma's cries brought gasps from the crowd, with Nemo, Lilly, and Isaac pulling her from the room. Milah shook her head and muttered a prayer; the herbalist herself confirming the rumors that she had bouts of madness. Sir Isaac and Lilly desperately tried to keep her as rooted in reality as possible, but it was clear that she could not handle this event for whatever reason. She was calmed with a jacket and gag Isaac had made, sitting in the back where the sight would not disturb anyone. Although Killian thought it was barbaric to tie someone into sitting quietly (even in a wheeled chair), he thought that Emma was lucky enough to find an adoptive family like Sir Isaac and Lady Cruella. 

A strange feeling of wrongness fell on him, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. They were Fae, they should be able to heal her, heal each other, even in matters of madness. The thought had barely crossed his mind when Milah pulled him into a dance. As they spun with the other guests, Emma's eyes met his, Milah and him both laughing at Ingrid's clumsy footwork as she danced nearby. To his surprise, Emma smiled at them with the saddest look he had ever seen before she was wheeled away, disappearing into the crowd. 

That night he dreamed of Emma, even as Milah slept next to him in their marital bed. 

"You have to. You have to, before she's gone." 

Killian felt his mouth go dry, looking down at Emma's sleeping form. "This was a bad deal Lilly. You were supposed to be her friend, why did you let her do this?" 

"I fucked up. Please. You have to save her before she turns her into a shell of what she was or worse; you have to get her out of there. There's a potion, a sleeping draught or something - I don't know. I tried it and was able to get to her; but it's dangerous. She can -"

"I don't care. We can't stand around here while she… While she… I can't believe you did this, and that she agreed. Of all the stupid ideas to follow through on -" 

"Killian, it's not like I had a choice!" Lilly snapped. Killian glared, his anger threatening to boil over. 

"Bullshit, Lilly. Whatever you have to tell yourself, right?"

"Just listen. I was going to get her out, but you don't understand. My mother, Cruella, Isaac - none of them have seen anything like this. You can lose yourself in there; it takes over everything, rewriting your entire existence." 

"Then I'll lose myself happily. She'd already be doing that for me if it were me." 

"And for me. I hope Emma never forgives me," Lilly sniffed. 

Killian felt his jaw clench, something in his head clawing at his thoughts as he pushed it away. "That would make two of us, but she will. Emma is too good for the likes of us."

He woke with a start, Milah slightly stirring as he tried to remember the fragmented bits of the dream that lingered. 

Years passed, and Emma interacted with the village in small, rare, interactions. She bought food sparingly, but more often than not, Lilly bought it for her. The village was quiet, and Emma was too unpredictable, too loud. Killian professed sympathy for her, and Milah agreed that the herbalist truly had a terrible fate. 

Then Milah fell ill. 

It was nothing like he'd ever seen, as if she was being erased, her body falling apart quickly and her vibrancy muted. She became a shell, her fatigue and pain without relief until Milah let him try Emma's wares. A salve gave Milah almost instant comfort, and Killian bought as much as he could. As Milah deteriorated, they required more and more until they were out both at home and at the small stall where Lilly peddled her wares. When he asked for more, Lilly raised an eyebrow. 

"You could ask Emma. She does make the rare house call for extreme cases," Lilly whispered behind a cupped hand. 

So, Killian climbed the mountainside, up to the cliff Emma's cabin stood on. He peered in, noting how sparsely furnished the space was. There was no one inside, so he made his way to the back, following soft singing. Wearing a paint splattered cotton gown that did nothing to hide her body's shape, Emma stood with a brush grasped lightly in her fingers. Her hair was long and thrown back into an unkempt tumble of curls with no bonnet in sight, no corseture around her waist, and her feet were bare in the warm evening as she sang. 

Killian watched her paint in small strokes, tongue poking out as she finished and wiped her palms together with a clap. Her song abruptly ended and she turned to face him. 

"You're here," she said quietly. 

Her eyes were still so very green. 

"I… Beg pardon?" Killian shook his head, confused by why she seemed to stun him. For the first time things felt real, the moss and rocky soil on his feet even more so. "I'm here for -" 

"For Milah's medicine, yes. It's on the table there." She nodded her head to a small clay jar. He opened it, looking at the strange paste inside. Who had told her he was in need of it? 

"How did you -" 

"Not important. What is important, Killian, is that this will only help her for a day or two." Killian looked at the jar in his hand, terrified. Yes, Milah was getting worse, but days left? There was no way. Emma looked unflappable, her face empathetic. 

"What's wrong with Milah?" 

"It's complicated. She's wasting away, and I can't, she's - all I can do is slow it down. I'm so sorry, I know you both are so happy, and if I could do more I would. I can see how much you dream of a long life with her, and how scared you are of losing her." Emma seemed upset by his inquiry, and began to fidget. "I could possibly extend things longer if I was there, but… This will make things more comfortable. Less nightmarish."

"I'll ask Isaac, I'll beg -" 

"Lilly is a better bet. She sneaks me out to the beach, or makes distractions, and covers for me. She could… cover for me to help you."

"I'll ask her to, and to watch out for Isaac for us, but you'll come, right? Please say -" Killian began. Emma hushed him quietly. 

"Of course. I can't imagine how much of a torture this is, and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it better, I don't want this fear to hurt you. I just - I don't know how any of this is happening, but while it is, I don't want you to -" Emma stopped and closed her eyes, lip caught in her teeth, as if collecting her thoughts. "I don't want either of you to hurt. I never want you to hurt, and I try to stop it when I can, when I see them try to punish me or you. You're real aren't you? If I can keep you happy, it will be alright, and you'll be alright." 

"I don't - uh. I don't know what that means, Swan," he admitted, scratching behind his ear. Blinking out of her outburst, Emma sighed, kicking dirt with her bare toes. She nodded, looking downcast. 

"Have Lilly send for me as soon as she can."

The look of tired misery in eyes that matched the moss haunted him the entire way home, sitting on his shoulder and whispering strange thoughts into his brain. 

One whisper stood out from the others, and he wasn’t sure if it was true or imagined, though he’d swear it was truth : Emma’s canvas had been filled with one of his own, very blue, eyes. 

[danfanciesphil]

Phan Teacher AU (Part 3)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

It’s Friday evening, finally, and Dan is in his kitchen making pasta, reflecting on the ups and downs of his first week in his new job. He stirs the penne in the saucepan, staring down into the bubbles.

The pasta does not, unsurprisingly, provide him with any insightful comments. 

Being a TA is not as bad as he thought it would be, he eventually concludes, considering everything that’s happened to him at the school so far. The children don’t tease him like he feared they would; mostly they barely even register his existence. The faculty, whilst occasionally irritating or dull, are just normal people for the most part. It’s obvious that none of them are living their dreams, but aside from making them a little snarky, that doesn’t seem to matter to them. 

None of this applies to Phil, of course. 

Dan stops stirring pasta, the tips of his fingers tingling as a wave of admiration sweeps through his body. Phil Lester is an unexpected, but very welcome, perk of this job. 

Dan had never even considered the idea that he might develop a crush when he accepted this position. Teaching has never appealed to him, so he has never found teachers attractive in the past. But, as he mentioned to Phil on his first day, Phil is not like any other teacher that Dan has ever met. 

He switches the hob off, and finds a colander in one of the cupboards. It’s not his, obviously. Dan would never be organised enough to buy a household item as obscure as a colander, but his housemates won’t mind. Probably. 

He drains his pasta, and scoops it into a bowl, then mixes it with some pesto. He adds some chopped cherry tomatoes and a sprinkle of cheese, then takes the bowl through to his bedroom. 

He’s glad he has the house to himself tonight. His roommates are out on a date together, being an excruciatingly cute couple, as always. 

He blames the exhaustion of first week in a full time job when he climbs onto his bed to eat, opening up his laptop. Facebook is open where he left it this morning, and out of nowhere, Dan gets an idea. 

He pauses mid-chew, wondering if it would be crossing a line. 

Then, before he can think his way out of it, he clicks the search bar and types ‘Phil Lester’. 

A hundred Phil’s pop up at once. Dan scrolls through them, peering at the tiny display pictures, searching for dazzling blue eyes and a mop of jet black hair. 

He’s about to give up, but then he sees it. As soon as he notices Phil’s photo, he wonders how he could have missed it amongst the sea of other Phil Lester imposters. 

He clicks the image, heart speeding up a little. Phil’s profile fills the screen, and Dan’s eyes widen, skimming over the scant information like he’s trying to soak it all up at once. 

Phil Lester  [Image]

Intro:

💼 History Teacher at Rawtenstall Secondary School 🎓 Studied History and Philosophy at University of York 🎓 Studied French History at Université Paris-Sorbonne  🏠 Lives in Rossendale, Lancashire, United Kingdom 🏠 Lived in Paris, France 🏠 Lived in York, UK 🏠 Lived in Manchester, UK 📍 From Rossendale  ❤️ Single

His eyes are drawn to the ‘relationship status’ part of his bio before he can stop them. Embarrassingly, he smiles into his pasta, as though it changed anything at all. 

His photo is the most distracting part of the whole page. Dan stares at it as he chews, taking advantage of the opportunity to study Phil’s immaculate face. There’s something different about the photo-Phil, Dan thinks, trying to work it out. Belatedly, he realises that he’s never seen Phil dressed in anything other than a shirt.

The Phil in this picture is wearing a t-shirt in vibrant blue, covered in rows of white stars. There’s a red hemline around the neck and short sleeves too. It looks a bit like he’s low-key cosplaying as Captain America on his off-day, but somehow it suits him. 

The picture-Phil is staring into the camera with that familiar intensity Dan recognises from the times he meets Phil’s gaze in real life. He’s smiling slightly, but it’s nothing compared to the way his beaming fills the classroom. 

He clicks the photo, unable to resist seeing Phil’s face larger on his screen. He really is rather unnervingly attractive, Dan thinks, staring unashamedly at the pixels doing their best to replicate the swirling galaxies of Phil’s blue eyes. 

He shovels more pasta into his mouth, sighing to himself. Just then, his phone buzzes. Reluctantly, Dan drags his eyes away from the screen, fishing it out of his pocket. 

18:54 Unknown Number Hey Dan! This is Phil (Mr Lester)

Dan chokes on a tomato. 

He reaches over to put his bowl of pasta on the bedside table, coughing, and turns back to his phone. Phil’s face continues staring out of his screen, those all-knowing, laser-eyes burrowing into his skull. Dan flushes, feeling caught out, and slams the lid of his laptop closed. 

His phone buzzes again. 

18:55 Unknown Number (the dorky guy who makes you  wear capes and help children to  build precarious structures out  of tables and chairs)

Despite feeling as flustered by this unexpected text as a yanderé schoolgirl encountering her senpai, Dan snorts at the joke. 

Fingers trembling a little, Dan adds Phil’s name to his contacts, and spends around three minutes typing and retyping a response.

18:58 Dan Howell did i forget giving you my number in a cringey attempt at gaining friends in my new job or something 😅

18:58 Phil Lester 🌠 hah! no i actually got it from the  school office 😳 

Dan frowns in confusion. 

18:59 Dan Howell Is that even allowed?

19:00 Phil Lester 🌠 Not sure. But I’m very charming, so it wasn’t an issue 😉

19:01 Phil Lester 🌠 I told them I wanted to ask you something important, related to class

Dan’s heart immediately sinks. That makes sense, he supposes, reaching for his pasta again. Phil’s just messaging him to discuss something work-related. Nothing to get excited about, after all. 

He types out a quick response, then places his phone aside, filling the disappointment-void opening inside of him with mouthfuls of pasta. 

19:02 Dan Howell Oh cool. Do you need me to do something for Monday’s class?

19:03 Phil Lester 🌠 I just need to ask you somethng in preparation

19:03 Dan Howell Ask away Mr Lester

19:04 Phil Lester 🌠 Do you think the Year Nine’s will laugh at me if I wear this in class (Attached: 1 image)

Dan stares at the message, uncomprehending. He scrolls down, laughing in surprise as he sees the photo Phil has included. 

It’s a picture of him, close up, with his chin raised, exposing his neck. Around his shirt collar is a bowtie, white with black polka dots. 

19:06 Dan Howell Without a shadow of a doubt, yes, they will laugh at you. Sorry bud. 

19:07 Phil Lester 🌠 Perfect! Thanks. 

Dan waits expectantly, glancing at his phone every few seconds as he finishes up his pasta. After he’s scraped the bowl clean, he picks the phone up again, wondering vaguely if he’s hallucinating this entire conversation. 

19:13 Dan Howell Is that it???

19:14 Phil Lester 🌠 Your TA duties are complete. Pls feel free to go forth and enjoy your weekend, Mr Howell

Dan blinks at the text, very confused. He’s about to shove the phone in his pocket, when another text comes through.

19:15 Phil Lester 🌠 And enjoy a cool photo of ur new favourite teacher, now saved to your camera roll free of charge

19:16 Dan Howell How do u know I won’t delete it

19:17 Phil Lester 🌠 Uh, you’d better not. I don’t hand these selfies out to just anyone Daniel

A little thrill shimmers through Dan’s veins at the sight of Phil using his full name. 

19:18 Dan Howell dw I’ve got it as my wallpaper already. I might even print it out, frame it for my wall

19:20 Phil Lester 🌠 Beats stalking through my Facebook albums I bet 😉

Dan’s heart actually stops for a moment, he’s sure. No, he thinks, feeling cold sweat pearling on his brow. There’s no way Phil could know something like that, surely.

He decides to try laughing it off, still terrified. 

19:21 Dan Howell Pfft as if m8

19:22 Phil Lester 🌠 tbf if you had stalked me I’d be super miffed you didn’t friend request me

Dan’s muscles melt of tension, the relief flooding out of his pores. Phil had just been stabbing in the dark with a weirdly accurate aim. 

19:23 Dan Howell aw u wanna be my fb friend? Cute.

Dan opens his laptop again, clicking determinedly off Phil’s profile, feeling his cheeks heat like he’s being watched. He’s just about to click off of Facebook altogether, when he gets a notification. 

Phil Lester has sent you a friend request!

Dan blinks at the message, gawping. 

His phone buzzes. 

19:26 Phil Lester 🌠 yes please

*

Dan spends the weekend wishing for it to end, which is an entirely new experience for him. 

His housemates invite him out for drinks on Saturday night at their local pub. Dan doesn’t bother attempting to refuse; Teddy and Tyler are not the sort of people who can be successfully argued with. 

They fail to mention, however, that they have invited a bunch of other people to join them for drinks, including Stephanie, Dan’s ex-girlfriend. As a result, the evening turns into Dan downing more pints than he is able to handle in order to deal with the glares from the girl he dumped a few months ago. 

At the end of the night, Tyler and Teddy have Dan’s arms over their shoulders, and are merrily singing The Phantom of the Opera as they drag him home. They take off Dan’s shoes and trousers for him and lay him in bed, laughing away at Dan being a lightweight, and then promptly climb in either side of him. 

Dan groans, feeling nauseous and irritable. He loves his housemates in many ways, but they are really annoying. 

“Unngh, get out,” he says, half into his pillow. Instead of obeying, Tyler and Teddy wrap Dan in their arms, squeezing him tightly. 

“Aw, Dan’s a grump because he had to face Scary Stephanie,” Tyler teases. 

“She was more terrifying than usual tonight,” Teddy muses. “Have you spoken to her since... y’know?”

Dan doesn’t reply; he’s too focused on trying to pretend he is currently alone in this bed. He has his eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block out all evidence to the contrary. 

“Since he callously ripped out poor Stephy’s heart?” Tyler supplies, giggling. “I’d say he’s prrrobably been avoiding her since then, right Danny?” 

In the hopes it might get him some peace and quiet, Dan nods. 

“I still don’t get it,” Teddy says with a shrug that jostles the bed. “She’s pretty, and she isn’t a complete bore. Why chuck her?”

“Ted, you know why,” Tyler says, his voice mocking. “Dan’s a big fat gay now.”

Dan groans in frustration, elbowing Tyler in the side. “‘M not!” 

“Okay, that is bi-erasure, Ty.” Teddy admonishes, though there’s a smile in his voice. 

“Bi, gay, whatever.” Tyler says. “The point is, Dan’s ready to embrace his twink side at long last.”

Dan sighs, rolling his eyes despite them being shut. “Hate you both.”

“Um, no...” Tyler corrects, sounding affronted. “You love us to bits. Especially ‘cause we’re gonna take you to the hottest gay clubs in town and find you a big, beefy bear to help you transition to the dark side.” 

Tyler tickles Dan in the side, making him shriek. Teddy joins in then, laughing uproariously at Dan’s reaction. 

“No, stop, I’ll throw up on you both!” Dan cries, feebly attempting to fight back. 

“Say you love us, Dan!” Tyler cries over Dan’s agonised laughter. “Say it!”

“I’ll say it if you fuck off!” 

“Deal!” Teddy shouts. 

Despite this, in the morning, as predicted, Dan wakes up with his two terrible excuses for housemates still snoring in his bed. 

*

As soon as Dan’s alarm sounds on Monday morning, Dan hops out of bed, eager for the day to begin. 

He showers and brushes his teeth in lightning time, then spends twenty minutes sorting out his hair and changing his outfit. He tries not to think about why he’s so obsessed with his appearance today. 

After his fifth change of shirt, Dan checks the time and realises he’s about to miss his bus. Swearing loudly, he bolts out of the door, just about managing to grab his bag and coat on the way. Tyler snorts with laughter at him as he goes, blowing a kiss, and Dan just legs it to the bus stop. 

He makes it, just, but only because the bus is a minute late. Luck must be on his side today, he thinks as he struggles to get his breath back on the jolting bus, sweaty and already exhausted, his stomach rumbling. 

Forty minutes later, he’s wading through the swarms of schoolkids up the front steps, heart beginning to pound as he thinks about what lies ahead. 

He doesn’t need to check his timetable to know which class he has first today.

He gets to Classroom Nine ten minutes early, unable to dissuade himself from seizing the opportunity to spend a little bit extra time talking to Phil. 

This plan backfires a little when he opens the classroom door to find it empty and dark. 

He debates what to do, dithering on the spot, and then decides to just come back in a little while. He turns to leave, and bumps straight into Phil’s chest, spilling the mugs of coffee he’s holding in either hand. 

“Ow!” Phil shrieks, and Dan plunges feet-first into the hole opening beneath him in the earth. 

“Shit, shit, sorry!” Dan cries, taking the mugs from Phil’s hands as he flaps his hands in distress. 

“Ah!” Phil hisses, shaking his sleeves as they drip with hot coffee. “No, it’s cool don’t worry- crap, that was hot.” 

“I’ll get some napkins or something- ” Dan says, at a loss for what else to do. 

Phil chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Dan, I’ll live.” He straightens up, smiling at Dan in reassurance. “So, I brought you a coffee!” 

Dan stares at him in dismay. “I am so sorry.” 

Phil laughs. “I know. It’s fine. I just hope there’s some left in the mug.” 

Dan turns his attention to the cups in his hands. “Yeah, there is. Um, thank you.”

“No problem.” Phil says with a smile, then takes one of the mugs from him. 

He steps carefully around Dan and through the open door of the classroom, sipping as he goes. 

Dan takes a moment to internally scream at himself for being such a prat, and then follows him inside. Phil flicks on the lights, then goes to put his coffee down on his desk. 

“So, you’re keen.” Phil says to Dan, grinning as he rolls up his coffee-soaked sleeves. 

Dan notices for the first time that Phil is wearing that stupid black and white spotty bow tie he’d sent Dan a photo of on Friday. 

Distracted by the sight of it, Dan takes a moment to process what Phil said. His eyes widen. “Um, sorry?”

“You’re here early.” Phil points out, one eyebrow raised. “Not often that you see TA’s getting to class before the first bell.”

“Oh!” Dan says, relieved. “Yeah, well... I just thought...” He scrambles for a reason that might not sound weird, coming up blank.

Phil chuckles. “It’s okay! I’m glad. Setting up for first period alone is always boring.”

“I’ll do my best to entertain you.” 

Phil giggles, then goes to one of the cupboards at the back of the room. He pulls out some unreasonably large rolls of craft paper, along with several bundles of bamboo sticks. 

Dan sets his mug down immediately, going to help him haul everything out. 

“Oh, thanks,” Phil says, surprised, as Dan takes some of the things from him. “Just put them on one of the tables.”

“What are we doing with these, then?” 

Phil laughs, glancing at him. “Wait and see.”

Dan rolls his eyes, smirking. “Such an enigma.”

“It’s all part of the experience.” Phil says. “I’ve got to be mysterious and keep the kids questioning everything. Their curiosity makes them more receptive, I find.”

Dan nods thoughtfully, considering this philosophy. “But I’m not a student.”

“True.” Phil allows. He places the rolls of craft paper down on a table, turning towards him. “Maybe I'm just trying to impress you.” 

Dan laughs awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He fiddles with the sticks of bamboo, swallowing. 

“How was your weekend?” He asks, deciding a subject change is probably for the best. 

“Good!” Phil says brightly. “It was my brother’s birthday. I baked him a hummingbird cake.” 

“A hummingbird cake?” 

Phil chuckles. “Yeah! It’s pineapple and banana flavour with cream cheese frosting. Also I made it into the shape of a hummingbird, because why not?”

“Right.” Dan says, at a loss for what to say. “Why not?” 

“Wanna see?” 

Dan smiles, nodding, and Phil walks over to him, digging his phone out of his pocket. Dan stares at the device in Phil’s hands as he scrolls through his photos. 

This is the object he’d used to message Dan on Friday. Dan’s number is now saved into it. He is, in some small way, more intimately connected to Phil through this rectangular slice of technology. 

“Sorry, I took lots of photos of my brother.” Phil says, laughing, swiping through several pictures of a grumpy looking man in a glittery party hat. “He hates having his picture taken. Oh, here it is.” 

Phil moves closer, his shoulder pressing into Dan’s. He’s deliciously warm compared to the chilly, early morning air in this room, and he smells strongly of the coffee Dan covered him in a few minutes ago. 

He tilts the phone for Dan to see. The cake is astonishing to behold. It’s been moulded into a 3D hummingbird, complete with a chocolate pocky stick for a beak, and covered entirely in a pastel rainbow of frosting. 

“Okay, wow,” Dan says, not bothering to hide how impressed he is. “I was expecting a half-hearted attempt to shape a flat cake into the Twitter symbol... but that’s incredible.”

Phil giggles, looking bashful. “Thanks! It was tasty too, which is a bonus.”

“What do I have to do to get you to bake for me?” 

Phil turns his head to face Dan, still just a little too close. “Hm, I can think of some things.”

Dan can feel it as Phil leans a little more into him, his shoulder pressing slightly harder. He holds his breath, feeling like a rabbit caught in the path of a devious fox. 

And then the bell rings, of course. 

Phil leans away again, still smiling, just as the first students begin to bowl through the door. Jonah happens to be one of them, and he lets out a low whistle as he walks through strolls into the room.

“Oi, sir, you givin’ Mr Howell your number?” 

Phil laughs, pocketing the phone in his hand and moving swiftly away. “Nice to see you too, Jonah. How was your weekend?”

Dan tries to hide his furious blush by going to retrieve his coffee from the desk where he left it. 

The rest of the students file in, and Phil welcomes them all in his usual chipper way. For the first fifteen minutes, Phil does a brief recap of the last lesson about the Algerian War, then introduces the topic they’ll be looking at today, following on from it. 

Today they’re going to start studying the failed revolution of May 1968 in France. 

To emulate the frustration of the liberals taking part in the revolution, they’re going to make pickets and signs with anti-capitalist slogans out of craft paper and bamboo. 

Phil gives them an entertaining rundown of all the issues the left-wing majority of French society had in 1968, and then he tells everyone to get into this mindset, and begin crafting. 

It’s a bit of a madhouse from that point on. The students, despite being in Year Nine, seem to love being let loose with the art supplies. They’re excessive with their use of paint and glitter, creating huge, garish signs with aggressive messages. 

A few of Dan’s favourites read: 

‘We stand, we march, we dab’

‘Marx’s favourite bitchez’

‘Communism ftw’

‘Destroy France’s capitalist infrastructure u cowards’

Phil is loving the enthusiasm so much that he even lets a few curse words slide, though he does insist that Jonah change his sign to ‘We are unTRUCKable’, for the sake of his reputation as a teacher. 

Once the signs are more or less completed, Phil claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Right! Ready to get out there and protest?” 

The class look confused, a hush falling over them as they look at one another blankly. 

“Protest what, sir?” Jonah asks.

Phil tuts. “Haven’t you been paying attention? If we don’t protest, then nothing will change! Workers and students will forever be bottom of the ladder! We have to push the change! We must make Marx proud!” 

Dan stares at Phil like he’s gone insane, as do most of the students. 

“But...” A shy, timid girl Dan thinks is called Anita, pipes up. “This is all in the past, right? They already protested this in France in 1968.” 

Phil beams at her, winking. “True. But tell me, gang, has the fall of capitalism come to pass?”

The students shake their heads, looking unsure. 

“Exactly, Anita!” Phil cries. “So, did the effort these French liberals put in have any effect?”

“No,” Anita answers, her eyes round as she gazes at Phil. “They failed.”

“So we should continue what they started.” Phil says, picking up a nearby bamboo stick and raising it high. “Who’s with me? For the revolutionaries of ‘68!”

The class cheer suddenly, finally catching the glint in Phil’s eye. They grab their pickets, and follow Phil as he strides to the door of the classroom. Not knowing how else to respond, Dan hurries after them, a little panicked as the crowd of fourteen-year-olds pour out into the hall. 

If only his deadly strict advisor from teacher-training could see him now. The Health and Safety of most of Phil’s activities would absolutely not pass regulations. 

“What do we want?” Phil cries, oblivious to his own rule-breaking as he marches the gaggle of teenagers down the corridor. 

“Revolution!” Jonah shouts, laughing. 

“When do we want it?” 

“Uh, 1968?” Someone calls out, and Phil chuckles.

“Ideally, yeah, but forty-nine years later works too.” 

Marvelling at the boldness of this man, as usual, Dan jogs to the front of the pack of students, marching along beside Phil. 

The rest of the class begin a chant of their own, their signs waving above them in the air as they walk determinedly through the school. 

Several classroom doors open, and students and teachers alike poke their heads out into the corridor, laughing and pointing as they pass by. 

“You’re nuts,” Dan says to Phil, feeling breathless with the adrenaline of this mad activity. “Won’t the other teachers hate you for this? You’re probably disrupting a few classes.”

Phil laughs, shrugging. “Maybe.”

He grins at Dan as he veers unexpectedly to a nearby door leading to the playground. He holds it open for the students as they march through; several of them high five he and Dan as they go. 

Dan smirks at Phil. “I think you might be some other people’s favourite teacher too.” 

*

Dan tries not to be too gloomy as he helps gather up all the students’ pickets at the end of class. There are now just under three and a half days separating him from his next chance to assist Phil in the classroom. 

Sure, he might be able to snag some of Phil’s attention during lunch and break times between now and Thursday, but it’s not the same as having a full hour with him. 

“Guys, before you leave!” Phil shouts as the students pack away their things. “I thought that, as we’re studying the ‘68 revolution, it’d be cool for you to see a French film from around that time! Cinema is really important in French history, as a lot of the prominent left-wing figures were filmmakers, and they produced some really cool stuff about this period.” 

Dan looks up in interest, wondering where Phil is going with this. 

“So basically, as there isn’t enough time to show a whole film during class, I thought it’d be fun to have a little film night this week!” Phil tells everyone, beaming. The class squeal in excitement. “I thought Wednesday evening would work. I’ll bring a film in, and if you’re free that evening, stay behind after school and we can all watch it together!” 

The class all begin chattering at once, the excitement evident in their voices, even if it’s difficult to distinguish exactly what they’re saying. 

“Sounds like you’re all keen!” Phil laughs. “So if you can make it, I’ll start the film at about four on Wednesday.” 

“Have you invited Mr Howell, sir?” Jonah calls out, turning to wink at Dan. 

Dan glares at him, trying to suppress his own urge to blush. 

Phil chuckles, turning to Dan. “Is Mr Howell interested in coming along?”

Dan reaches up to rub the back of his neck, feeling awkward. At least twenty-six pairs of eyes glue themselves to him, eagerly awaiting his response. 

“Um... sure.” Dan says at last, shrugging like it isn’t the most exciting thing he’s been invited to in months. “I’ll try and make it.” 

The class laugh, and Jonah chucks a ball of leftover craft paper at him. “Oh, got something better to do, sir?” 

Dan chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome.” Phil says; Dan catches his eye, and has to keep himself from grinning. 

*

“Hey, we’re going to the pub tomorrow.” Tyler tells Dan on Tuesday, falling face first onto Dan’s bed. 

“I’m never going to the pub with you and Teddy again after last time.” Dan tells him, kicking Tyler with his foot in a vague attempt to push him off the bed. 

He’s been scrolling through Tumblr for an hour or so now, but just because he’s been holed up in his room since he got in from work, does not mean that Tyler gets to just wander in and annoy him. 

“Aw, come on, that’s mean.” Tyler says, pouting at Dan. “Stephanie won’t even be there this time, I swear.” 

Dan swallows, shaking his head as he turns back to his screen. “Nope, sorry.”

“Dan, you know we’re not gonna let you mope about the house while we go out.” Tyler says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, you don’t need to worry.” Dan says, feeling awkward. “I won’t be here.”

Tyler is quiet for a moment, then perks up, catlike, catching the scent of some gossip. “Oh?”

Dan just presses his lips together, saying nothing. He reblogs a photo of a cute panda, trying to stay calm. 

“Teddy!” Tyler yells, making Dan jump. “Dan’s keeping secrets!”

Dan looks up at him with scorn. “Tyler, don’t be-”

Teddy bursts into the room, wearing an apron with a naked man’s torso on the front, a spatula in one hand. 

“Secrets?” Teddy asks, wide eyes darting between Tyler and Dan. “What secrets?”

“Dan has secret plans tomorrow night.” Tyler informs him, grinning. 

“Plans?” Teddy repeats, acting shocked. “But Ty, Dan doesn’t have any friends apart from us!”

“Wrong.” Dan says gruffly. “You two are not my friends, I hate you both.”

“Is it a date?” Tyler asks, sucking in a gasp. 

Teddy leaps onto the bed beside Tyler, squealing. “Oh my God, is it a date, Dan?!” 

Dan rolls his eyes. “For Christ’s sake, no. It’s not a date.” 

He could never, in a million years, be that lucky. 

Just then, his phone pings. Ignoring the probing eyes of his two housemates, Dan plucks the thing out of his pocket to look. 

18:34 Phil Lester 🌠 excited for some french cinema tomorrow night? je suis trés  joyeux que tu viennes! :)

Dan’s heart flutters, registering who the text is from, and then his phone is being plucked out of his hand. 

“No!” Dan cries, lunging for Tyler. “Wait, don’t-”

“Okay, who is Phil?” Tyler asks, holding the phone out of Dan’s reach; Teddy grabs hold of Dan by the waist, restraining him. 

“Ooh, Phil!” Teddy repeats, giggling. “I knew you were looking for a man.”

“I honestly loathe you both.” Dan grits out, struggling uselessly against Teddy’s grip. 

“French cinema?” Tyler asks, tilting his head to one side. “Is that code for something?” 

“Give me back the phone, Tyler.” Dan says, going limp in Teddy’s arms, defeated. 

“We’re just taking an interest in your personal life, Dan,” Teddy says soothingly, patting Dan on the head. 

“Phil’s just... he’s a guy I work with.” Dan says, feeling the redness spread over his cheeks and neck, betraying him. 

“Hmm,” Tyler says, throwing Dan’s phone aside at last. “A guy who is ‘very happy you’re coming’ tomorrow.” Dan blushes harder, not having worked out what the French bit had meant just yet. “Is ‘Phil’... how do you say, un beefcake?”

“Is he a teacher?” Teddy asks excitedly, releasing Dan in order to cover his own mouth with both hands. 

“He’s a teacher, yes.” Dan confirms, snatching up his phone and pocketing it. 

“God, that’s hot.” Tyler sighs, looking wistful. “And he speaks French. Think of the roleplay opportunities.”

“Aw, we can try some schoolteacher roleplay, babe,” Teddy assures Tyler, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Fine, but I get to wear the cute schoolgirl outfit.” 

Teddy rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“I’m pretty sure I can smell burning,” Dan says, sniffing the air in distaste. 

“Shit!” Teddy exclaims, grabbing his spatula and jumping off the bed. 

As he bolts out of the door, the fire alarm begins to shriek, making Tyler scream with laughter. 

“Everything’s fine!” Teddy calls from the kitchen. 

Despite the irritation sitting under his skin, eventually Dan finds himself joining in the laughter too. 

*

Dan is half an hour early to the film screening. 

He would have come straight from his last class, which ended at 3pm, but he decided to make a quick trip to the grocery store round the corner from school. 

He returns with two enormous bags, shuffling through Phil’s classroom door with some difficulty. Phil looks at the bags in surprise, coming over to help Dan haul them in. 

“What’s this?” Phil asks, clearly intrigued. As he takes one of the bags from Dan’s hand, he looks him in the eye. “Hi, by the way. Haven’t seen you all day!” 

Dan chuckles, setting his own carrier bag on Phil’s desk. “Hi. I brought popcorn!” 

“Oh, God,” Phil moans unexpectedly. “As if you could get any more amazing.”

Dan chuckles awkwardly, a warm glow spreading through his gut. “Uh, you like popcorn?”

“It’s literally my favourite food of all time,” Phil tells him seriously. “How did you know?” 

“Damn, I need to be more subtle with my stalking.” Dan says, making Phil laugh so much that he drops one of the bags. “Anyway, it’s not all for you.” 

“In that case, the kids better hurry up before I inhale it all.”

Dan laughs, watching fondly as Phil flits around the classroom, closing blinds and straightening chairs. The projector is on, currently throwing an image of Phil’s desktop background onto the smartboard. Behind his jumble of icons, there’s a picture of what seems to be a large, photoshopped capybara taking up an entire paddling pool. 

Dan decides not to question it. 

“So what film have you picked for us all?”

Phil beams at him. “It’s called Les Quatre-Cents Coups. Have you heard of it?”

Dan shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in an almost smile. It’s obvious to see how passionate Phil is about this subject; he talks animatedly, looking eager and focused.

It’s adorable.

“Wow!” Phil exclaims. “I’m kind of jealous. I wish I could go back to a time before I’d seen it.”

“What’s it about?” Dan asks, mostly in an effort to keep Phil talking.

“Oh... well, it’s about a little boy mainly. An underprivileged boy living in Paris. But it’s about much more than that really. It’s about the oppressive structures of French economy in the fifties, classism, the bourgeoise... and it’s about growing up, y’know? How even if we all experience it differently, there’s a certain relatability about puberty too.” Phil pauses, reddening a little. He chuckles. “I mean, that’s what I take from it, anyway. I studied the history of French Cinema for a while, so I’m a bit of a geek about it. But you can form your own opinions, obviously.”

“Me?” Dan says, laughing. “I dunno. I don’t know the first thing about film. Apart from that I like going to the cinema.”

“Well that’s a good place to start.” Phil tells him happily. “There’s all sorts of theories about spectatorhood, and why audiences enjoy the activity of going to the cinema, watching films as a collective experience...”

Phil trails off again, shaking his head.

“Okay, you have to stop me if I start rambling, Dan. I get carried away.”

“I think it’s cute.” Dan says before he thinks about it.

Phil’s eyebrow lifts in surprise, but he seems to take the comment in his stride. Dan, on the other hand, blushes furiously, cursing himself for being so transparent.

“I think you’re just too nice to tell me to shut up,” Phil jokes, but he lets his eyes linger on Dan’s, warm and fond.

Luckily, before Dan can shove his foot any further into his mouth, a couple of girls from the class wander in, looking trepidatious.

“Hi, uh... can we come in yet, sir?”

“Of course, Joanna!” Phil says, jumping down from his position on the desk. “Hi Bethany! Would you guys mind helping me and Mr Howell to set up?”

They jump to the tasks Phil gives them happily, chattering to him about the petty dramas of their day, complaining about their homework and the fallouts they’re having with friends.

Dan watches with amusement, marvelling - as always - at the ease with which Phil converses with his students, giving each one his undivided attention while they’re speaking, never replying in a condescending tone.

He’s such a rare gem of a teacher, Dan thinks. Phil sends Joanna to the staffroom to collect bowls, and they put one on each table, filled with popcorn.

Soon enough, the other kids begin to arrive, all wearing the thrilled grins Dan remembers from when he used to stay behind after school. There’s something about being in the building outside of the mandatory hours that just seems a bit naughty. It doesn’t matter that they’re here for what is essentially an extended history lesson - the students are excited to be involved in this extra-curricular activity.

Dan hasn’t asked them, but he’d bet a lot of that excitement comes from having Phil here, providing his ever-shining rays of brilliant, sunny exuberance.

The kids take their seats, restless at first, but settling in once Phil dims the lights and presses play. Dan finds a seat on one of the empty tables at the back, and is all prepared to expand his cultural knowledge with some French Cinema. Then, once he’s sure the film is running, Phil walks to the back of the class and slides into the seat right beside him.

Immediately, Dan releases any hope he was holding onto of immersing himself in the film.

“Ready?” Phil asks in a low, quiet voice that pierces straight through Dan’s gut. 

He’s leaning in close, eyes sparkling as the light of the opening credits reflect in them.

All Dan can do is nod silently, and try not to let the squeak out of his throat.

Phil’s one of those people who doesn’t shut up during a film. Dan hates those sorts of people usually, but he can’t seem to find Phil’s inability to keep his comments to himself anything but ridiculously cute.

His musings vary from the way in which the cinematography emphasises certain aspects of the narrative, to the strange dress sense Parisians had in the days of the 'nouvelle vague’, as he calls it.

He talks so much that he is shushed by the students more than once, but he just giggles and apologises in a stage whisper, to which the students roll their eyes.

“See that?” Phil says at one point, basically pressing himself against Dan’s side in order to point at the screen. “The photo of the man Antoine is putting on his shrine? That’s Balzac. He’s one of the founders of realism in literature.”

Dan smiles. “How meta.”

The responding look Phil gives to Dan is something so warm and proud that Dan wants to melt it down and spread it on a thick slab of toast.

“Exactly.”

Their hands meet in the popcorn. It’s like something out a cringey teen TV show. Phil just laughs and winks at him, but Dan about faints from how fast the blood rushes to his cheeks.

Phil seems to have no issues about personal space, and allows their legs to rest comfortably against each other beneath the table. He’ll grab Dan’s shoulder during his favourite scenes, eyes shining, breath held as he watches the screen.

Honestly, by the time the final shot (apparently an incredibly famous moment in film history) appears, Dan is not totally sure whether he’d be able to say what the film had been about. He’d spent quite a lot of it staring at Phil, and the rest of it thinking about how it felt - elating, blissful, drug-like - to sit beside him in the darkness, in a room where everyone else was steadfastly facing the other way.

Phil turns to him as the image fades to black, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Did you like it?”

Dan stammers out something that isn’t really words, and nods emphatically to make up for it. Phil grins at him, tongue slightly visible through his rows of teeth, and then he stands up, much to Dan’s dismay.

“So that was Les Quatre-Cents Coups!” Phil says to the class, climbing up to sit on the desk at which he and Dan had been sat. Dan cranes his neck upwards, leaning back in his chair to watch as Phil crosses his legs underneath him on the table. “Could someone get the lights, please? Thanks Bethany.”

The lights flash on, garish and bright, and the class groan, rubbing their eyes.

“What did we all think of it, then?” Phil asks, beaming.

“Awesome!” Someone shouts.

“I thought I hated black and white films, but that was cool.” 

“I loved it! Paris is so beautiful.” 

“That kid was well sick at acting, sir.” 

Phil nods encouragingly as students call out their opinions. 

Jonah snorts loudly. “I couldn’t concentrate on half of it. Kept gettin’ distracted by Mr Lester and Mr Howell flirting in the back!”

Phil laughs, shooting Jonah a disapproving look. His smile stays in place though. 

“I’m sure Mr Howell has far better options, Jonah.” Phil teases, and Dan just tries to pretend he’s somewhere else. 

He might kill Jonah at some point, he considers. 

Then, someone sticks up their hand. Phil points at the kid, smiling. 

“Yes, Matt?”

“What’s the title mean in English, sir?”

“Well, the English version of the film is called The Four-Hundred Blows.” Phil answers. “Which is actually an inaccurate translation, as it doesn’t mean anything. The original title comes from a phrase that people use a lot in France - ‘faire les quatre cents coups’ - which kind of means ‘to raise hell’. It suits Antoine, don’t you think?”

“Suits me, sir!” Jonah calls out, making everyone chuckle. “I’mma start sayin’ that. What was it again? Fair lezzer cooper?”

Phil laughs, hands holding his ankles as he leans backwards. It’s such a sweet action, so innocent and playful, that Dan can’t help smiling.

“Faire les quatre cents coups,” Phil corrects gently, enunciating each word. “I think it suits you as well, Jonah.”

Joanna is sat at the table in front of theirs, her chin in one hand as she gazes up at Phil, marvelling.

“Do you speak French, sir?” Joanna asks, obviously smitten. Dan can relate.

Phil beams at her. “Yeah, I do! I spent a year studying in Paris.”

Dan’s eyebrows lift in surprise. He’d suspected that Phil knew a few phrases, but the fact he speaks fluent French is a surprise. Why is that such an attractive quality?

He imagines Phil speaking to him in that low, quiet voice he reserves for when he wants to tell Dan something the class or another teacher shouldn’t overhear, but in French. A warm trickle runs teasingly up his thighs, like light, tracing fingers. A full body tremor comes over him. 

Phil throws a glance towards him, presumably having seen that peculiar reaction. Dan doesn’t miss the way his mouth twitches in a smile.

“That’s so dreamy,” Joanna sighs, retrieving Phil’s attention. She sits bolt upright, blushing. “I mean! It’s a dreamy language.” The rest of the class chuckle, and she reddens further. “I wish I could speak it is all!”

“Well, you’re in luck!” Phil announces suddenly. “Because as you may or may not be aware, our Year Nine History trip is coming up in two weeks time!”

The class immediately descend into loud, excited chatter; students grab at each other, squealing.

“Hey, come on, guys! Calm down, we’re here after hours, remember?” Phil calls out, but he’s grinning, evidently pleased by their enthusiasm. The class simmer down gradually, their buzz of excitement still palpable in the air. “So, yeah! We’re off to Paris for a weekend! If you can make it, it’s only fifteen pounds per student, and if you can’t stretch that, come and have a word with me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Dan’s eyes soften as he listens to this last part. This man really is one of a kind.

Again, the class begin talking animatedly about the trip, discussing outfit choices, places they want to visit, room sharing, and other trivialities.

“Are we going up the Eiffel Tower, sir?” Someone asks.

“I’m scared of heights!”

“Where are we staying?”

“Are we sharing rooms?”

“Are we going by coach, or ferry?”

“Ooh, maybe we’re flying!”

“Can I bring my dog?”

“Hey!” Phil interrupts, hands held up in surrender. He’s laughing at them all. “All questions will be answered in class on Monday. I’ll also be sending out permission slips tonight via email, so get your folks or guardians to print them off and sign them, then bring them to me when they’re ready.”

“Sir, I just have one more question!” Jonah cries out, sticking up his hand and waving it. “Just one, sir, please?”

Phil sighs, clearly debating it. Eventually though, he rolls his eyes and nods, smiling. “Go on then. Just one.”

Jonah grins, eyes flicking to meet Dan’s. “Is Mr Howell coming with us?”

Phil lets out a low chuckle, his vivid blue eyes sliding to Dan’s, questioning. 

“I don’t know,” Phil says in a voice that surely isn’t appropriate for the situation at hand. Dan swallows, feeling singled out by the gaze. “Is he?”

(Part Four!)

[apollos-favourite-bastard]

Alright, here’s roughly the first 10k of the thing I’ve been working on. I never intended to publish any of it originally, so I’ve not got a title for it. I’ve just been calling it the magic thing. It’s below the read more, so I’m sorry if you’re a mobile user.

The thing is – Niall really loves books. He loves the smell of them, leather and paper mixing together to create a scent finer than any perfume or cologne out there. He loves the feeling in the turn of a page, rigid and flexible at the same time. He loves the way an entire world can be contained between the binding – the universes, the experiences, the lives – It’s a miracle, pure and simple.

A real miracle, mind you. Not one of the manufactured miracles that have become so commonplace since the Rupture. The kind that any neighbor or coworker with a bit of magic can unleash on the world. Real miracles are pressed between pages, written in ink, transcribing souls into a way that can be consumed and layered over the reader’s, transporting them into another existence. A real miracle lets someone be a hero, no matter who they are, or how they were born, or how they’ve been classed.

No matter if they work part time in a book shop, and in a café, and in a pub, and sometimes as an odd jobs man if someone in the village needs their hob or telly repaired.

That’s why, despite the fact that he can hear Ashton wrapping up his call with Calum, and knowing what it means, Niall’s body is reluctant to unfold itself from the way he’s become wedged into the corner of a couch that sags into the ground at the slightest hint of weight and groans angrily with even a breath’s worth of movement. It’s his little hidden away bit of paradise, a place where he can put his responsibilities on hold for a little bit and sink into someone else’s miracle.

“Your girl is getting impatient.” is what Ashton says as he comes around the corner, not bothering to hide the roll of his eyes at finding Niall reading instead of doing anything that resembles actually working. “If you don’t get home soon, Cal’s going to run away with her.”

“She’d eat him alive.” Niall hums, filing away the last bit of the chapter as he slips the book in his hands shut and places it back on the shelf where someone will probably see and buy it before he gets the chance to finish it proper. “He wouldn’t stand a chance with her in anything more than little spurts.”

“I know that, and you know that, but he just refuses to know that.” Ashton snorts. “Stubbornly optimistic, that one.”

“Better get home before he learns better then, yeah?” Niall chuckles, dusting off the back of his trousers. If he’d properly cleaned, like he was supposed to have done, then it wouldn’t be a problem. The look Ashton shoots him tells him as much. In Niall’s opinion though, a good book shop should be properly dusty. It adds an air of history and mystery that just feels right.

“That would probably be best for everyone involved.” Ashton says absentmindedly, focused on filing away some new acquisitions. “I don’t think I’d like seeing how that would turn out.”

“You gonna be okay if I head out early?” Niall asks, grabbing his bag out from behind the counter.

“Not sure there’d be much difference.” Ashton scoffs. “When’s the last time you did any work around here?”

“Who came in on Sunday and sorted that big shipment you got in from that estate sale while you sat and ogled your piano player next door?” Niall asks flatly. “Two hundred books I went through, with no help from you.”

“And how many did you nick for yourself before anyone else could go through them?” Ashton fires back, not missing a beat or the empty slot on the shelf he was slipping a book into.

“The list is on your desk.” Niall shrugs. “And you know they’re mostly for Molly, not me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go get home to your pretty, little thing and leave me to get some real work done.” Ashton waves him off.

“See you tomorrow.” Niall tosses over his shoulder as he heads towards the door.

He doesn’t hear Ashton’s likely sarcastic response, too distracted by the body he just barely manages to avoid colliding with as he steps out onto the street. It nearly sends his knee out of joint, twisting away and slipping under the arm of the tall, brunet bloke who had opened the door at the same time Niall had reached for the knob. He narrowly avoids falling face-first into the cobblestones, stopped only by a precarious grip on the handle and the quick reaction of the stranger who’d caused the incident in the first place.

Niall mumbles out a quick apology, sheepishly darting his eyes away from the sharp angles of the bloke’s face, hearing a slurred together acceptance in a deep, gravelly voice that goes in one ear and out the other as Niall turns his attention towards the path home. The stranger disappears into Ashton’s shop and out of Niall’s head, so as to spare him any further thought of his embarrassment.

It’s unusual to see someone around the village that Niall doesn’t know once they reach this time of year, but not unheard of. It’s not so unusual as to merit any consideration. After all, the town’s main source of revenue is in tourism, a bank of cabins dotted along the coastline attracting the sort of people who want to believe they like the country, because they only spend a couple of weeks there during the summer hols, in fully furnished cottages, cooing at the locals who play along with the condescension because an arsehole’s money is as good as the next person’s.

Most of the tourists have gone, though, disappearing as quickly as the leaves from the rowan trees that litter the lanes in the commercial district of the village with the first chills of autumn. Some people like that, though. There’s always a few stragglers or latecomers that like to avoid the clutter of a crowded village when they take a break for themselves from the chaos of their daily lives. People who like the solitude, who like the grey in the sky and the rush of a chilly wind pressing, cold and insistent, on the fabric of the jumpers and scarves they bundle up in.

Niall thinks, under different circumstances from the ones he’s found himself in over the course of the years in his life that have felt too few and too many all at the same time, that probably would have been him too. The sun is nice, and he’s never been one to shy away from crowds, but there’s something so free and open about a small seaside village like this once summer has faded into fall. Like the rest of the world doesn’t have to exist if you don’t think too hard about it.

Green sparks flare to life when Niall rounds a corner a few blocks from his house, quickly twisting themselves into the form of a dragon as some young bloke spots him with a grin and a bright sparkle in his eyes. A performer, trying to prolong his days of profitability in this little place before he has to move on to a bigger town, somewhere with more competition and fewer unexposed people who might be awed by his parlor tricks. He clearly thinks he can draw Niall in, the mandated beige color of his jumper a giveaway of his status and possibility as a mark.

Niall has stepped into the street before the wings can even unfurl on the creature, crossing to the other side of the road without a second thought. He has no intention of contributing to the lad’s delusions of grandeur, or encouraging him to stay in the village any longer than necessary.

“Well, fuck you too.” the lad calls after him, making Niall’s eye twitch, but eliciting no other outward response, until the added, “Fucking non-magicals.”

“You got a problem, mate?” Niall spits out harshly across the empty street, his body going rigid as he turns to glare at the lad.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” the lad says, stalking across the street. “I just tried to put on a nice show for you, and you can’t even be bothered to look. You cross the street, like I’m some kind of menace, out to hurt you. I’m just trying to make a living here, and the least you could do is appreciate it and drop a few pounds in the box.”

“I’m not interested in your show, and I don’t owe you anything.” Niall bites out.

“You say that, but I think you owe us a lot.” the lad smirks. “After all, this isn’t the S.E. You don’t live in a labor camp. We let you roam around freely. I think that deserves a bit of a tax.”

“You’re, what, nineteen? Twenty?” Niall asks, looking the guy over. “You’re young. Stupid. But I’m going to give you a chance to take that back and reform your opinion before you regret it.”

“And what’ll you do if I don’t?” the lad asks, stepping forward while the green sparks flare up again in both of his hands this time. They don’t take form, just jump around in electric arcs between his fingers, a simple shock spell. His mistake.

“Make you regret it.” Niall answers firmly, eyes locked with the kid’s.

A typical magician, the lad thinks with his magic before his head. He’s too cocky, reaching for Niall’s arm to remind him of his place, painfully. He doesn’t expect Niall to know anything about anything, because non-magicals don’t know anything in his mind. They’re laborers, commoners, inferiors. How could Niall possibly comprehend anything when he doesn’t have a spark of magic in his veins?

The real question, though, is how could this lad have survived this long while being so dense?

His hands are coated in sparks, but his clothes aren’t. His wrists and arms are covered in expensive fabric that he likely doesn’t want to char just to protect himself from someone he sees as beneath him, and that leaves him open. Niall is quick, years of training kicking his reflexes into gear as soon as he sees something coming at him. He grabs the lad’s arm after ducking under it, bringing his leg forward to sweep the kid’s out from under him.

In one fluid movement, he turns the magician’s weapon in on his own chest, connecting with the skin there and sending an electric pulse through him. He shrieks and collapses to the ground, not two seconds having passed since he decided he would teach Niall a lesson.

Niall crouches down, voice dropping low as he says, “A low-level magic user like you hasn’t got the brains or talent to be a threat to anyone. Remember that before you decide you deserve anything. And remember that there are a lot more of us than there are of you.”

The kid doesn’t respond, can’t, in his state. He’s too busy twitching and literally pissing his pants to have even heard a word Niall said. He doesn’t need to, though. Niall’s message got across just fine.

“Oh, look who decided to come home sometime tonight.” Calum scoffs as Niall makes his way into the sitting room.

“Sorry. Got a little caught up on the way home.” Niall says quietly. “Got you some muffins to take back to the shop, though.”

“You know the way to my heart.” Calum grins, catching the brown, paper sack that Niall tosses to him. “But you only get sweets when you’ve done something bad.”

“Just got into a little scuffle.” Niall shrugs, setting the bag with Molly’s favorite orange and cranberry scones on the table and toeing off his boots. “Reminded some arse that not all of us are livestock.”

“Niall.” Calum sighs out his name in a quiet reprimand. “You can’t just go around assaulting magicals.”

“’t was self-defense.” Niall mutters. “Bloke said I should pay him a tax just because I’m not in a labor camp, and tried to attack me when I told him to back off.”

“Well- I have nothing to say to that, then.” Calum hums. “We don’t all think that way, I promise.”

“I know.” Niall sighs. “I do know that. He just- Fuck, he pissed me off. But he also made the first move.”

“I’m sure he did.” Calum nods. “Let me guess, magician?”

“That bloke doing parlor tricks on Rose and Vine.” Niall tells him.

“Oh, I’ve wanted to teach him a thing or two before.” Calum smirks. “He’s gotten mouthy with Luke and Ash as well.”

“Well he’s probably waking up right about now, if you want to add in your thoughts.” Niall tells him. “I’ve got it from here. Give Luke my love. Not Ash, though. He’s been right grumpy.”

“He dropped Luke’s favorite teacup, so Luke’s been withholding contact.” Calum giggles in explanation, pushing himself up off the couch and heading for the door. “Drawn me in on it just so we can watch him twitch and take the piss out of him for it.”

“Not something I needed to know.” Niall scoffs, wrinkling his nose up.

“Don’t be bitter.” Calum hums, slipping his shoes on. “Your celibacy is showing. You know you’ve got an open invitation.”

“Shut it.” Niall groans, halfheartedly chucking a wadded up napkin from the table at him, only to watch it flutter uselessly to the ground halfway there. “Innocent ears.”

“She’s asleep.” Calum says with a roll of his eyes.

“No you aren’t, are you, lovebug?” Niall asks into the air, turning to look at the chunk of wall that hides the hallway from view. “You’re awake and listening to conversations you shouldn’t be, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” comes a drawn out, high-pitched giggling response, accompanied by a head of messy hair and bright blue eyes peeking around. “How’d you know, da?”

“I always know when you’re up to no good.” Niall chuckles, opening up his arms. “Got a sense for it, I do.”

“Shit!” Calum hisses out, making Molly shriek out another giggle as she tears across the room into Niall’s waiting arms.

“Get going.” Niall says, shooting Calum a withering glare. Calum, thankfully, gives a sheepish wave to both of them and then disappears out the door, closing it behind himself. Molly settles into Niall’s lap, head resting against his chest, and he asks, “How much of that did you hear, then?”

“Just the last bit.” Molly admits, eyes already half-lidded now that she’s got her favorite pillow in the form of Niall’s body. “I have to move slow to get over there without you hearing.”

“Slowly.” Niall corrects her, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to the top of hers. “You have to move slowly.”

“What’s cell-busy?” Molly asks, grabbing the arm Niall hasn’t got around her back and pulling it closer to ask for a hug, to which Niall gladly obliges her.

“Nothing important, lovebug.” Niall chuckles. “Did you have fun with Cal?”

“Yeah.” Molly says around a yawn, fighting the steady increase of weight on her eyelids. “He helped me draw some pictures, and then we did a puzzle.”

“You’ll have to show me tomorrow.” Niall murmurs, hiding his smile in her frizzed-out hair, already a tangled mess from the ten minutes or so she spent in bed before she decided to sneak out and eavesdrop.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Molly asks, the words muffled by her own fist in front of her mouth, her go-to comfort position, even after Niall finally got her to break her thumb-sucking habit a couple years ago.

“Not until nighttime.” Niall tells her.

“Can we go to the shop and get a new book?” Molly begs.

“I just got you three new books.” Niall points out.

“I finished ‘em.” Molly tells him, making his smile grow even larger.

“Suppose we have to, then.” Niall agrees. “But now it’s time to get you to bed, lovebug.”

“I wanna sleep with you, da.” Molly says, breaking the spell of drowsiness just enough to look up at him with pleading eyes.

“How could I say no to that face?” Niall gives in, the urge to fight never crossing his mind.

“Molls.” Niall sighs, seeing the flutter of motion out of the corner of his eye while he stands at the hob, cooking eggs for their breakfast.

“I want juice.” Molly says simply, ignoring the disapproving look Niall shoots at her over his shoulder to focus on levitating her favorite teacup through the air towards herself. She hates tea, very like her mother that way, but she loves teacups, particularly the pink and gold floral one she’s got steadily moving through the open space between herself and the cabinet.

“Molls.” Niall repeats, more firmly this time. “If you want juice, you ask. You know better.”

“Nobody can see, da.” Molly replies stubbornly, fishing the teacup out of the air.

“Molly Elizabeth Horan, that’s not the point, and you know it.” Niall says through a sharp inhale. “You need to be more careful. You can’t just do whatever you want. If you do that in public-”

“Cal does it.” Molly cuts in. “Why can he do it, and I can’t?”

“Because you’ll be taken away!” Niall snaps, shoving the pan of eggs to the back of the hob before gripping the counter to keep himself from turning around and scaring Molly with what he’s sure is a wild look in his eyes.

He can’t help it when it comes to Molly’s magic, when it comes to the possibility of her forced removal and education in some government run academy. Ever since her powers started manifesting, it’s been a constant fear, thrumming in the back of his mind and growing stronger with every display she puts on.

It has him cursing her mother nightly like a prayer, damning her magical genes for passing on, damning her for running off as soon as she could and leaving him alone, with no preparation for raising a child, let alone a magical one.

They were supposed to be in this together. That’s what they decided when a fling a few weeks old, between a first year uni student and a professor’s assistant, turned into a stick with a little pink plus on it.

Niall decided to do the right thing. Niall decided to drop out of university and get a job to support their child and try to make a proper go of it with Barbara. Things hadn’t been easy during the pregnancy, what with his parents disowning him and them not even really knowing each other at first. But they’d fallen in love over the course of those months leading up to the birth. They’d fallen in love.

That’s what Niall thought, anyways, until he woke up in the middle of the night to a screaming baby, an empty spot where Barbara was supposed to be sleeping, and a letter on her pillow that was shorter than the notes she’d leave in the margins on the papers she’d graded, explaining why she’d abandoned Niall and Molly.

It hadn’t been perfect. Niall knew it wasn’t perfect. He was young, but he wasn’t stupid. They hadn’t meant to turn into anything more than some occasional sex for stress relief. They fought pretty hard after she’d told Niall that she was pregnant, and at the same time telling him that she didn’t need for him to be involved.

Those memories haunt Niall to this day, the question of if she would still have abandoned Molly if she’d gotten what she said she wanted and Niall hadn’t been involved. That Molly could have grown up in some orphanage with nobody to love her, nobody to protect her.

She would have been adopted, without question. That’s a no brainer, considering she’s magical, and more than just a magician. Molly is a witch, and would have been taken in by a family shortly after her powers manifested around two.

Niall remembers the day clearly, couldn’t forget it if he tried.

He’d been in a mood, out of diapers and out of money and out of sanity.

When Barbara had left, she’d given one present to Molly. There was a necklace that she’d been wearing ever since Niall met her. A gold feather medallion on the end of a leather cord. She’d worn it in the class he’d accidentally sat in on for a full lesson before realizing it wasn’t even his course, too mesmerized by the girl behind the professor, eyes sharp and smart without any questions of who really knew more, to care about the content of the lecture.

She’d worn it through their first date, when Niall had bumbled through the conversation until it became obvious that she thought he was about as bright as a blown out lightbulb, and he’d decided to prove that, despite his non-magical status, he wasn’t a fool. She’d worn it the first time they slept together, hanging on her naked chest while Niall quaked with nerves from the first time he’d ever done more than kiss someone else.

She’d worn it through the labor, squeezing it in one hand while she nearly fractured Niall’s fingers with the other until the doctor had said that Molly would need to come out surgically.

Apparently she’d thought it was funny to spell cast a spell on the necklace to make it the same for their daughter as it was for her. It couldn’t be removed from Molly’s person, at least not permanently. It could be taken off over her head, but would return to her instantly, teleporting itself onto her neck again. Niall had tried over the years to find some way to get rid of the thing, worried that it could choke her in her sleep, and also not wanting the painful reminder every day of Barbara’s disappearance, but nothing had worked.

Calum, the only magical person that Niall let know about Molly’s existence, hadn’t been able to do anything more than Niall had.

That hadn’t mattered that day, though. The necklace, dangling from Molly’s neck as Niall carried her around the room, trying to find anything he could wrap around her bum long enough to take her to the shop and beg Ashton for an advance on his pay, had caught on his arm and scratched him so hard he’d nearly dropped Molly.

He hadn’t slept in days, and hadn’t thought about the fact that the necklace would just pop back into place when he’d taken it off over her head and thrown it at the wall. He hadn’t thought about the fact that Molly wasn’t a baby anymore, and had a tenuous grasp on understanding emotions, both hers and Niall’s.

She’d started wailing, and Niall had set her down to give himself a moment to calm down, handing her a stuffed bear, her favorite toy. The necklace had popped back into existence around her neck before he could even put her down.

He’d been turned away from her, standing in the corner with the heels of his hands digging into his eyes and a wail of his own trapped in his throat, when he felt something soft rub against his back. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin at the contact, and only managed not to sprint away in complete panic because his knees had given out at the sight when he’d turned around.

Molly’s bear was nudging up against him, hovering in the air while she waved her hand at it while making the same face she had as a baby when she was letting out a particularly hard poop.

When she’d managed to grunt out, “Da, burr,” he’d known that she knew exactly what she was doing, that she had meant to do it, and that his entire world was changed with no way back.

It’s been four years since then. Four years of panicking over every use of her powers. Four years of dread coiling in his stomach at every question she had. Four years of hiding her so that she isn’t taken away from him.

“Da?” Molly asks, her voice quiet, but close, pulling Niall out of his head as a tiny hand curls into the hem of his shirt. “What do you mean?”

Niall sighs and crouches down next to her, taking her hands in his own while he looks her in the eyes and says, “If people know you have magic, they’ll take you away to somewhere I’m not allowed to go so that they can put you in a special school.”

“Why?” Molly questions, her eyes going wide.

“Because your magic makes you very special.” Niall murmurs, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “But that means that the other people who have magic too want you to think like they do. They want you to be just like them, and that means they won’t want you near me, because I’m not like them. I don’t have magic. I’m not special, and that means that they don’t think I’m good enough to be your da.”

“You’re special to me.” Molly mumbles, taking her hands out of Niall’s and slipping them around his neck to hug him tight. “And they’re stupid, because you’re the best da.”

“You can use magic here in the house, lovebug.” Niall says softly into her hair. “I won’t – I won’t yell at you for it again. I promise. I’m sorry that I did. I just need you to be careful about using it. Don’t do it when the windows are open, because someone could see. You can’t let anyone know except me, Cal, Luke and Ash. We love you, and we’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.” Molly says, nodding against Niall’s chest. “Da?”

“Yes, lovebug?” Niall questions.

“I want to go to the café for breakfast.” Molly says, pulling back and pressing a kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Your eggs are rubbish.”

Niall can’t help but laugh before he digs his fingers into Molly’s sides and wriggles them around, making her shriek in his revenge before he agrees that muffins and cocoa would be a much better breakfast.

“Why do I bother getting you muffins if you’re only going to eat the top?” Niall sighs, swapping one of his muffins for Molly’s so she can get a decent breakfast by eating two.

“Because you like eating the bottoms.” Molly says with a shrug, knocking Niall’s muffin on its side and using her fork to separate the top from the bottom.

Niall hears Calum snort out a laugh from behind the counter as he puts the finishing touches on their drinks, and shoots him a sharp glare.

“I like eating the whole muffin.” Niall corrects her. “I eat the bottoms that you don’t so that they don’t go to waste.”

“So you’re a versatile muffin eater?” Calum asks with a shit-eating grin, setting down a cup of cocoa in front of Molly and a cup of tea in front of Niall.

“Sure.” Niall says dryly, rolling his eyes. “I eat it all.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to dive into the specifics of that right now, it’s going to have to wait.” Calum shrugs.

“You think?” Niall scoffs, waving his hand at Molly.

“I mean- There’s that.” Calum nods. “But actually it’s because I need you to stand watch behind the counter while I run over to the shop and pick something up from Ash.”

“Why couldn’t all your places be right next to each other?” Niall asks with a grunt.

“Because moguls have to diversify.” Calum chuckles. “I buy what I can get. If it’s spread out, that’s fine by me.”

“How about diversifying into more employees than just me and your boyfriends then?” Niall mutters, pushing his chair back from the table and dropping a kiss to the crown of Molly’s head before he stands up. “Ten minutes, and I’m not wearing the apron.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Calum hums, pressing a kiss to Niall’s cheek and darting out the door.

“Ten minutes!” Niall repeats, shouting it after Calum before the door can close. He turns back to Molly and asks, “You alright with this, lovebug?”

“I wish Calum didn’t go.” Molly pouts, picking at her muffin top with her fork.

“I know.” Niall snorts, running his hand over the top of her head and getting a huffy glare in response. “He’ll be back soon enough, and we can stay with him as long as you like today, as long as we don’t get in the way when he has to work. I know he’s your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite, da.” Molly says with a roll of her eyes. “Calum’s just my second favorite.”

“And what about us?” a voice asks behind Niall, making him whirl around and ball his hands into fists before the familiarity of it strikes him and he drops his guard again. Ashton’s smile is easy, but the hand he has on Luke’s shoulder tells Niall that his defensiveness hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Calum undoubtedly told them about Niall’s misadventure with the magician last night, so they were probably expecting it. They’ve seen him through worse. They’ve seen him when that kind of thing wasn’t an uncommon experience, when they’d have to drag him inside off the stoop and clean his bloodied face and use Calum’s salves to heal the wounds on his body.

They’ve taken care of Molly when Niall was too banged up or angry to be around her.

They’ve known him better than he ever wants to know himself, so he’s not surprised when Ashton’s hand comes off Luke’s shoulder and pulls Niall in to peck a kiss next to his lips and whisper, “You did a good thing, love. But it’s time to uncoil.”

His hand finds Niall’s hip, and Niall leans into the touch, sagging against Ashton’s chest and letting out a shaky breath while he murmurs, “Sorry. Shit- I- Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Ashton says gently, butting his forehead against Niall’s and rubbing their noses together. “I know how you get. We shouldn’t have snuck up on you today.”

“Could relieve some of that tension for you, if you want to.” Luke grins, throwing a cheeky wink at Niall before he strides over to Molly, crouching down and asking, “So, Molls, what’s your answer to Ash’s question?”

“Ashton is third.” Molly says with a bright smile, waving over at him.

“And what about me?” Luke pouts.

“Eh.” Molly says with a shrug, taking a bite of her muffin. Niall knows she’s only doing it to hide a smile, though. Luke is one of Molly’s favorite people in the world, and she absolutely adores him. He gets all needy for her love when she denies it to him, though, and that means she gets presents.

“Calum just left going to the shop to come get something from you.” Niall tells Ash, not bothering to save Luke from Molly’s manipulations. Every time he’s tried, Luke ignores him and presses on anyways. He’s the perfect mark for Molly and her charms.

“Idiot.” Ashton snorts, shaking his head. “I told him we’d bring it over when we could.”

“What is it he couldn’t wait on, then?” Niall questions.

“A present for the little bird.” Ashton tells him, pressing a book into Niall’s hands. “A collection of the original Grimm’s fairytales. He found it last night when he was doing the dusting, and forgot it this morning.”

“Let him give it to her.” Niall chuckles, nodding at Luke. “You know she’ll keep this up for days, otherwise.”

“Cal’s gonna be jealous.” Ashton smirks. “Which works just fine for me. Might break their little alliance.”

“Shouldn’t have broken his porcelain.” Niall hums, bumping his hip into Ashton’s. “You know the princess doesn’t like you nearly as much as he likes his things.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Luke huffs, giving them both a stern look over his shoulder.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Niall counters. “Can’t withhold anything from me like with this one. Besides, I already know you love being called that, don’t you, princess?”

“You only get to call me that if you sleep in the same bed as me, and you keep turning us down, so – Shut it.” Luke grumbles. “And give me that.”

He reaches out with one of his absurdly long arms and snatches the book out of Niall’s hands before turning back to Molly with a look on his face that a puppy would have trouble matching.

“About that-” Ashton says, trailing off, but making his intentions perfectly clear in the way his fingers slide over the back of Niall’s neck.

“Not now.” Niall cuts him off, shaking his head. “Even if this wouldn’t end up being a repeat of a conversation we’ve had a dozen times before, now isn’t the time for it. Not while she’s here.”

“Niall-” Ashton murmurs, but he’s cut off again, this time by the little bell over the door announcing a customer entering the shop.

Niall turns to look at him, and feels his heart stop in his chest. It’s the same stranger from last night, the one who’d nearly knocked him off of his feet. It’s not anything about the bloke, though. He’s got a nice face, sure, and he’s tall and well-muscled with big hands and long legs and a dozen other things that would be eye-catching in different circumstances. It’s something that Niall hadn’t noticed last night that catches him off guard, though; his clothes.

He doesn’t have a single bit of beige on him. They wear black and white too, brought it into their fashions a few years ago like it was a joke between them, dressing like non-magicals, but they never wear the beige. That’s what sets the two groups apart in the empire.

And that means he’s magical.

“This, um – This is a café, right?” the stranger asks. “Because I’m pretty sure you run the bookstore? We met last night?”

“It is.” Luke says with a genial smile but a tension in his shoulders that Niall recognizes instantly. “You’ll see us and our mate Calum in a lot of places. We run a few things here in the village. This place, the bookstore, the pub, and a piano studio. We also own most of the cabins over by the shore and the cliffs, and a few of the houses here in the village.”

“But I can get a cup of coffee and a pastry here?” the guy asks carefully.

“Yeah.” Ashton nods, stepping forward in between Niall and the stranger. He turns back to Niall and says, “You go on and get out of here. We’ll take over until Cal gets back. Can’t have you working and eating into our profit margin.”

Niall knows what it really means, though. Get out. Get Molly out. This guy is no low-level, full of himself magician. He’s got more power and more brains than the guy Niall took out last night.

There’s a scar on his cheek, a burn. There’s a rigidity in the way he holds himself. A sharpness to the eyes Niall knows are taking in more than just the surface of things, despite the easy look on his face as he moves to the counter that Luke goes behind. All of it together means only one thing.

Military, or, worse, an agent.

“Come on, lovebug.” Niall says gently, reaching down and taking Molly’ hand in his own.

“But you said-” Molly starts with a whine.

“We’ll see Cal and the lads later.” Niall says firmly. “Right now we need to get home, get you changed out of that dress, because you’ve got cocoa spots on your sleeves, and we’ll find something fun to do until Cal is free, okay?”

“Fine.” Molly grumbles, grabbing her book in her other hand and sliding out of her seat.

She comes along with Niall without any further protest, and Niall thanks the heavens for it as he passes the stranger, keeping his head down until they’ve gotten out the door and turned down the next street. It’s not until then that his heart stops trying to beat out of his chest, either.

“If you don’t lose that tension soon, I’m going to have Calum spike your drink with one of his little potions to make you relax.” Luke murmurs, running his fingers lightly over the hairs at the nape of Niall’s neck.

“I get to be tense.” Niall mutters, turning his head to bite at Luke’s wrist. “There’s a fucking agent in the village.”

“We don’t know that he’s an agent.” Luke points out with a roll of his eyes, pushing Niall’s face back around so she can keep watch over Molly, and so the blond can resume his attempts at relaxing Niall.

“Military, then. Whatever.” Niall huffs. “Whatever he is, he’s dangerous.”

“I don’t get that sense from him.” Luke says quietly. “He doesn’t strike me as a threat.”

“Because it’s not you he’s a threat to.” Niall breathes out, watching as Molly pushes her face into a cluster of daisies with a bright smile. “It’s us. It’s me and Molly.”

“Niall.” Luke says sharply, making Niall shrink just a bit.

He knew better before he said it. He wouldn’t dream of saying it normally, would never think to imply that Molly isn’t just as important to them as she is to him. But this stranger is a threat, and if they don’t put their walls up around themselves and Molly, then Niall is going to have to build his four times as high to protect her.

“Sorry.” Niall mumbles out, leaning into Luke’s shoulder and tucking his head under Luke’s chin. He curls his fingers into Luke’s shirt and says it again, “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t let every witch that comes into town get you this wound up.” Luke murmurs, tightening his grip on Niall. “That’s the threat. He’s on holiday. He’s not here for you, or for her. He’ll be here for a couple weeks, then go back to what he’d call ‘the real world’. He’ll go back to where he came from and never blink twice at you or Molly if you just manage not to give him a reason to. You have to act like there’s no reason for him to be a threat.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Niall whispers. “I don’t think I can let my guard down.”

“You don’t have to let it down.” Luke tells him, lacing their fingers together. “You just have to learn to hide your walls better. You have to remember that we’re all here for you, and we all know what to watch for. We’ve all been preparing for this for as long as you have, and we’re ready. We can hide the two of you. Just let us handle him, but, if you have to be around him, then pretend like nothing is wrong.”

“I’m not that good at pretending.” Niall says softly.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Luke says, the chuckle afterwards sounding incredibly forced. “I’ve been watching you pretend for years.”

“What is it with you three today?” Niall asks, pulling back and taking his eyes away from Molly, who’s trying to chain together daisies to make a crown like Ashton normally does for her, to meet Luke’s. “Is there something I’m missing? Some signal that I gave you three that’s made you all decide to try this again, despite every one of the times I’ve said no to it?”

“Molly’s birthday is in three days.” Luke says simply.

“Yeah, and that’s when I’ll legally be a fugitive.” Niall bites out. “So, again, why now? I’ve got enough on my plate already, don’t you think?”

“Do you remember what happened five years ago today?” Luke asks.

“Five years ago today, I was probably changing a dozen nappies and drinking a fifth of whiskey with each meal that I could afford.” Niall mutters, breaking the eye contact. He can’t bear to look at Luke like this for too long. He’s always so damn soft and pretty and has every bit of his heart’s contents written over his face.

“Five years ago today, we found you on the doorstep of the pub, looking for a place to stay.” Luke murmurs, reaching down and folding his hand over Niall’s. “Five years ago, we met you and Molly. You came into our lives and grew our little family.”

“Shit.” Niall sighs. “I didn’t- I didn’t realize.”

“We know we shouldn’t be pushing, but- Five years, Niall. We’ve been waiting five years.” Luke whispers.

“She has to be my first concern.” Niall tells him, like he’s told them all so many times before. It’s his blanket excuse, the way his daughter protects him, like he’s protected her. Attachment as a means of detachment. “Sex, romantic love- All of that is irrelevant next to her.”

“It’s not us or her, Niall.” Luke grunts out, leaning forward next to Niall. “You don’t have to give anything up to be with us.”

“I would, though.” Niall says, dropping his head down. “I’d have to give up my focus. Frankly, don’t know how you lot do it. I can barely keep up with just her. Adding all of you three in- I’d never get a moment’s rest.”

“We get plenty of rest, thank you very much.” Luke snorts. “And I think you’d handle it pretty well. You already juggle all of us in almost every way you would if we were together. There’s really only one or two things missing, and they’re the fun ones.”

“And, as fun as those might be, they’d be a distraction.” Niall sighs. “I get it, okay? I do. And, maybe someday- Maybe I’ll stop saying no. Maybe I’ll be ready. But I’m not right now, and I need the three of you to be okay with that.”

“Okay.” Luke says gently, laying his head on Niall’s shoulder and lacing their fingers together. “But don’t expect the flirting to stop. Can’t really help ourselves there. You’re proper attractive.”

“Back at you, princess.” Niall snickers, moving back slowly, so Luke doesn’t dislodge, until they’re leaned back against the bench and folded in on each other while they watch Molly.

“Don’t play with your food, darling.” Niall says absentmindedly, eyes still locked on his book as he notices some rather dramatic motion out of his peripheral.

“It’s not me, da. It’s Cal.” Molly giggles.

“I know.” Niall says dryly, looking sideways over at Calum, who’s blushing sheepishly. Niall rolls his eyes and goes back to his adventure, adding, “He should behave himself better.”

“But what’s the fun in that, darling?” Calum says dramatically, pulling a giggle out of Molly. What she doesn’t see, and what keeps Niall from smiling, is the hand Calum slips onto Niall’s thigh before adding, “Ashton and Luke say I’m much more fun when I don’t behave myself.”

“I’m sure.” Niall scoffs, shaking his head. “But I’ll thank you to be a good example for Molly.”

“I think he’s more fun when he misbehaves too, da.” Molly says with a sly grin.

“Certainly got the talents for making things awkward and sucking the fun out of things from you.” Calum mutters under his breath, taking his hand back from Niall’s leg.

“That’s cause she’s her da’s girl, aren’t you, lovebug?” Niall smirks.

“Did I miss something?” Molly asks, drawing her eyebrows together and poking her bottom lip in a pout.

“Nothing important.” Niall tells her. “Just Cal running his mouth.”

“What did you say?” Molly questions, directing her eyes towards Calum instead of Niall now.

“Just that it’s time for me to take your da behind the counter. I’ve been waiting a while now.” Calum hums, the innuendo in his voice making Niall’s cheeks heat up. “It’s opening time, which means this place is no longer suitable for good girls like you.”

“Who’s my sitter tonight?” Molly asks, cocking her head. “Ashton or Luke?”

“Both of them.” Calum chuckles.

“What about the bookshop?” Molly continues, always so inquisitive.

“For a little while, they’re going to watch you in pairs as often as they can.” Niall tells her.

“But why?” Molly asks, more curiously than ever.

“Because we get jealous when only one of us gets to hang out with you.” Calum says, grinning conspiratorially when Molly’s brows crinkle up in delight instead. “So we decided that two of us will stay with you, and the other gets your da as a consolation prize.”

“Hey!” Niall squawks, pinching at Calum’s side so he jumps out of the booth and onto his feet. “Rude!”

“Don’t worry. I quite like the consolation prize.” Calum smirks, blowing Niall a kiss before he strides over to unlock the door, smiling ear to ear like he always does when he manages to get Molly to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Stop encouraging him, lovebug.” Niall sighs, climbing out of the booth and pressing a kiss to Molly’s head. “Finish your food before Luke and Ashton get here. I don’t want you tricking them into giving you anything sugary just because you didn’t eat your dinner.”

“But, da-” Molly whines.

“No arguing.” Niall cuts her off. “You were already up late last night, and if you get any sugar now, you’ll still be bouncing off the walls when I come pick you up. Ashton and Luke will hate me.”

“Doubt that, darling.” Calum hums, passing behind Niall and getting his revenge for Niall’s earlier pinch with a mirroring action, only it’s on Niall’s arse. It takes a lot not to react, but Niall knows that’s exactly what Calum wants, and he doesn’t get to have the satisfaction.

“The darling thing isn’t funny anymore.” Niall throws over his shoulder.

“Who said I’m trying to be funny, cuddle-bug?” Calum laughs, disappearing into the double-doors that lead to the kitchen.

“Why are they really watching me together?” Molly asks quietly, pulling Niall’s attention back to her with a hand settling on top of his.

“Do you remember what we talked about this morning?” Niall asks her, crouching down to her height and settling his chin on his arms.

“About the people who want to take me away?” Molly questions.

“Yeah.” Niall nods. “Well, there’s a man visiting the village, and he- He’s like you. He has magic. And we’re not sure, but he might work for the people who would want to take you if they found out about you, so we’re trying to be careful. Two people protecting you is better than one, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“Why don’t you need anyone to help you watch me?” Molly asks.

“Because I- I know how to protect you better than the lads do.” Niall says quietly. “I’m not magical, like you and Cal, but I know how to do things that they don’t, and that means that I’m enough when it’s just us.”

“Couldn’t we stay with them?” Molly offers, her smile brightening right back up, like the sun peeking through clouds. “Then we’d always be safe, right?”

“Molly-” Niall snorts, shaking his head.

“I have my own room there.” Molly points out. “And you can sleep with them. I’ve heard them all say their bed is big enough for you too.”

Niall’s eye twitches, and he tries again with, “Molly-”

“Please, da?” Molly begs. “Then you can stop worrying so much. You’ve not been sleeping well in the last couple weeks.”

“Molly, I’m fine.” Niall assures her.

“No, you’re not.” Molly whispers. “You’re tired, you’re grumpy, and it’s because of me.”

“Oh, lovebug.” Niall says softly, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.” Molly chokes out, the sound of a sob trapped underneath it. “You’re worried about me and it’s doing bad things to you.”

“Okay, we can stay with the lads, if it’s alright with them.” Niall tells her, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “Not because you’re right, but because I don’t want you worrying.”

“I’ll get an extra pillow from the closet.” comes an amused chuckle in a familiar voice from the door.

“Thanks.” Niall says with a roll of his eyes before looking over at Luke and Ashton in the doorway. “But I’ll stop by ours and grab some things before I come over, including a set of sheets and a pillow for the couch.”

“Spoilsport.” Luke pouts.

“Go on, then.” Niall says, nodding at them. “And, you two- If you give her any more food tonight, make sure it’s healthy. No sugar.”

“Come on, little bird.” Ashton says with a chuckle, holding his hand out towards them. “Luke’s been making something special for you for tonight.”

“Luke has?” Molly asks warily. Niall’s not sure if it’s his imagination, but she looks a bit green as well. She must be remembering the last time Luke cooked her breakfast. He really shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen. Niall had to spend ages cleaning the sick from her dress and hair.

“Be brave, lovebug.” Niall hums, pecking one final kiss to her cheek before he stands up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Molly nods and grabs her bun off of the plate and shoving it in her mouth before she grabs her book. Niall barely manages to bite back a laugh before he sets off to get behind the bar while they leave with her, each taking her one of her hands and nodding to Niall.

“They didn’t even bother to stay long enough to say anything to me?” Calum pouts when he returns to the bar with a crate of clean glasses for Niall.

“What can I say?” Niall snorts. “She’s got my charm.”

He shows up a little after eleven, stumbling in the door disheveled, like he’s only just woken up.

It’s like Niall knows that he’s going to walk through the door before he does it, because his body tightens like a spring. He feels it in the air, something shattering in the calm stillness the night has laid over him by means of a couple drinks with his friends in the village, water for him and beer for them, and an ever-present Calum, soothing away his worries with touches and smiles and laughs. He’s always been good at that.

But nothing is going to soothe Niall once the door opens and the stranger steps through.

Niall feels Calum’s eyes turn to him from across the room, but his own are locked on the stranger ambling towards him, rubbing at his pinkened cheek with a balled up fist. He trips, over his own feet, if Niall saw it right, and barely manages to catch himself on the bar.

“This is the only place in the village to get a drink, so do you mind telling me how you’re already drunk?” Niall asks shortly, setting down the glass in his hands before he can shatter it and cut himself, or, more importantly, give away how he’s actually feeling and cause problems for himself, Molly or the boys.

“Not drunk.” the stranger grunts out before sliding into the stool in front of Niall with an embarrassed smile. His voice is deeper than earlier, gravelly and slow. “Fell asleep. Woke up and realized I didn’t have any food in the cabin, so I came here.”

“And the chill didn’t manage to wake you up on the walk?” Niall questions.

“I pride myself on being a very heavy sleeper.” the stranger says with a lopsided smile that Niall doesn’t return. “It takes a while for me to like- Adjust to being conscious. I’m not too late, am I? You’re not about to shut down?”

“This may be a small village, but we don’t turn the lights out at eleven.” Niall says dryly.

“It’s still that early?” the bloke asks, blinking bewilderedly.

“You’ve got a watch on your wrist. Why don’t you take a look?” Niall says with a roll of his eyes.

“Doesn’t work.” the guy says, dropping his eyes down towards the piece of hardware on his wrist. “Hasn’t for a while. Only really keep it for sentimental value.”

“Well, the clock up there’ll tell you what that won’t, then.” Niall grunts out, jabbing his thumb back over his shoulder. “We’re only open until one, now that summer’s over. Got a couple hours. So, even if you keep talking at the pace you do, you still might make it in under the wire.”

“Wish I could blame that on still waking up, but this is just how I talk.” the stranger drawls out. “Might speed it up a bit if I ask for a menu, yeah?”

“This ain’t a fancy London restaurant, mate.” Niall scoffs, jabbing his other thumb towards the board behind his left shoulder. “We’ve got what’s on the board. An X next to it means we’re out of that at the moment and it’ll take a bit, or we just won’t have it in again tonight.”

“The only thing that hasn’t got an X next to it is the fish and chips?” the stranger says like a question, tilting his head a bit.

“Then that’s what we have.” Niall says with an even harder roll of his eyes. “The meatloaf, mash and peas will be ready in about twenty minutes, if you want to wait on that.”

“Is it worth waiting on?” the stranger inquires with a hum in his voice, leaning forward onto the counter and fitting his chin into his palm.

“It’s bloody terrible.” Niall informs him. “Have to drown it in ketchup to make it edible.”

“Not much of a salesman, are you?” the stranger chuckles, his amusement written all over his face, making Niall struggle all the more to keep his temper in check.

He can feel Calum watching him from the front of the house, begging him silently to keep calm and follow Luke’s advice. Stay calm and pretend like nothing is wrong. But how can Niall pretend like there isn’t a threat right in front of him? How can he pretend like this man with the sly grin couldn’t bring down his entire life in minutes if he found Molly?

How can he pretend he’s not a hairsbreadth from vomiting being this close to a real, live governmental witch?

It’s not hard to tell the bloke is someone important, the silk of his shirt, patterned with flowers, and the silver of the jewelry he has on his hands and wrist and neck a dead giveaway. He’s either powerful or rich, both of which lead to a conclusion of government involvement. He’s clumsy, doesn’t appear to be particularly bright, so that means Niall’s guess about him being an agent might be off, but he was right in assuming this man is a threat, and he can’t relax in the face of that danger.

“Don’t need to be.” Niall says flatly, placing his palms on the bar. “Like you said, you haven’t got any food in your cottage, and you walked here. You wouldn’t have walked here if you were worried about time and had a car or had the kind of innate magic that gets you from place to place quickly like flight or porting. There’s a village with an all-night diner about twenty-k from here, but you wouldn’t make it there on foot for a few hours. Same with a marketplace. So, it’s either this place, you muster up the energy for a spell that’ll get you where you want to go, or you go hungry tonight.

“You asked a question, and I answered honestly. I wouldn’t wait on the meatloaf, because it’s vile. Selling you a meal isn’t my job. My job is giving you what you decide on from the options available here, should you decide on any of them.”

“You’re clever.” the stranger grins, stretching out his lips even further in his amusement. “What’s a boy as clever as you doing in a sleepy, little village like this? You’d do well in a city.”

“It’s a good place for a family.” Niall says gruffly. “‘M not interested in city life.”

“But what about adventure?” the guy asks. “You seem like the kind of boy who likes a bit of adventure.”

“Adventures are for people with more adrenaline than sense.” Niall replies coldly. “I’m good right here in my sleepy, little village.”

Niall sees Calum coming towards him out of the corner of his eye, but he refuses to look away from the bright green and steel grey of the eyes in front of him. He refuses to let go of this game of cat and mouse, because he’s sure that the stranger thinks he’s the cat. He’s misjudged the game, though. Niall isn’t the mouse or the cat.

He’s the wolf waiting for the cat to be distracted by the hunt enough that it never senses him coming.

A strong hand wraps around his jaw, turning his head away from the stranger and towards someone much more familiar. Calum’s lips are on his before Niall can even process what’s happening, and after a brief moment of shock, he lets out a shuddering breath and gives into it.

It’s not the first time that he’s kissed any of the lads, probably won’t be the last. It’s never been quite like this, though. It’s never been more of a distraction than an enticement, never been something to break his concentration and force his body to relax.

There’s none of the pleading in it that normally comes when his lips touch one of theirs, none of the ‘please’ that reverberates through his bones from theirs, asking him to give up his stupid fears and give them a chance. But that’s because that’s not what this is. It’s only happening to stop Niall’s brain from barreling down a dangerous path before it’s too late to stop him.

“Darling-” Calum says breathlessly against Niall’s mouth when he breaks the kiss just a moment after it’s begun. “You’re going to scare the poor man away. Quit being the village grouch, and go make yourself useful by checking the food that’s in the oven.”

“Yes, darling.” Niall says with a roll of his eyes, wincing when Calum pinches him hard on the hip to show he’s not joking about Niall walking away now.

“And what’ll you have?” Calum asks, pushing Niall out of the way and directing the question towards the stranger.

“The meatloaf.” the guy smirks, throwing a look at Niall. “I’m feeling adventurous.”

Niall just scoffs and turns towards the kitchen, barely managing to keep himself from stomping away.

They switch after that, Calum charming the stranger and Niall keeping watch on the kitchen and the tables occupied by the villagers. Niall’s more grateful for it than he’d like to admit. He keeps himself busy with idle small-talk and cleaning, doing more around the pub than he usually does in a week, just to keep his attentions on anything except the stranger.

Not that it works perfectly. Niall can only loosen himself up so much, his eyes occasionally darting to the two of them at the bar. And, every time he does look over, he finds that same set of green and grey looking back at him, trying to unravel him, and only manages to keep the shudders trapped in his spine out of pure spite.