#especially albus

[sirius-for-life]

[zeke-fanfucs]

Welcome home

EHEHEHEHEHEH! It’s a fanfic of my beloved family! Aka! The Bastard Family! Featured Faith, Kerano, Devlin and our favorite ALBUS! (Yes this is before the whole shitshow of Kamor’s power. I NEED THIS OKAY!)

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The air was warm, the scent of soil and fresh herbs drifting through the dry desert breeze. Faith’s garden was a rare patch of green in the otherwise sunbaked wasteland of SpringRock—a small miracle in a land where life had no right to thrive.

And right in the middle of it, giggling with uncontained joy, was Kerano. She sat cross-legged in the shade of the cabin’s porch, surrounded by a ragtag army of stuffed toys. Some were well-loved, some were missing buttons or patches of fur, but none were as battle-worn as Fluffal.

The stitched-up bunny sat proudly in her lap, his fur matted from years of cuddles and his seams reinforced more times than she could count. Fluffal had seen wars. He had survived tea parties, pillow fort sieges, and the great mud puddle incident of last week.

Kerano held him up, shaking him dramatically. “Commander Fluffal!” she announced, her voice filled with faux seriousness. “The enemy forces are approaching from the east!”

She turned to a stuffed lizard with a missing tail. “General Wiggles, prepare the troops!”

The lizard flopped over in response.

“No time for naps, General!”

She giggled, placing Fluffal down as she started rearranging her army, completely engrossed in her mission. The desert wind ruffled her dark curls, but she paid it no mind. Her world was here, in this little garden, where she could play without a care.

From the porch, a voice called out. “Kerano,” Faith’s warm tone carried through the air. “Don’t wander too far from the house, alright?”

Kerano’s head snapped up. “I won’t, Mom!” she chirped before turning back to Fluffal and whispering, “That was the Queen of the Kingdom. We must protect her at all costs.”

Fluffal, as always, remained steadfast in his duty.

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Behind the house in a small workshop, the rhythmic clanking of metal echoed through the dry air as Delvin tightened the last few screws on the weapon in front of him. It was a sleek, customized rifle—nothing too fancy, but sturdy enough to survive the harshness of SpringRock.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, exhaling as he reached for a bolt he’d set aside earlier.

His fingers met empty space.

Delvin’s eye twitched. Slowly, he looked up.

And there, leaning lazily against the workbench with a shit-eating grin, was Albus.

Delvin didn’t even hesitate—he just rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

“Give it back.”

Albus twirled the bolt between his fingers, inspecting it like it was some rare treasure. “Give what back?”

Delvin deadpanned. “I don’t have the patience for your games today, Albus.”

Albus smirked, flipping the bolt once before finally tossing it toward Delvin, who caught it effortlessly.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” Delvin muttered, turning his attention back to the rifle.

Albus shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d still be holed up here, playing house.”

Delvin’s hands paused for a second before continuing his work. “Not playing. Just… making sure this family stays standing.”

Albus scoffed, but there was something guarded in his expression. He rarely came around—not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. He wasn’t like Delvin. He wasn’t steady. He wasn’t reliable.

He was a mess. And this family? They deserved better than a mess.

Delvin glanced at him, as if reading his mind, but said nothing. Instead, he just sighed, shaking his head. “If you’re staying, make yourself useful. I’ve got another job after this one.”

Albus smirked. “You want me handling weapons? Bold choice.”

Delvin snorted. “Not handling. Lifting. You’re taller than me—useful for once.”

Albus grumbled, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he grabbed a wrench, twirling it between his fingers before setting it down next to Delvin. It wasn’t much. But it was something.

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ ≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━

In the quiet of the house, the scent of fresh herbs and simmering broth filled the air. Faith stood at the kitchen counter, carefully slicing a ripe tomato, her movements slow and methodical.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where she could see Kerano outside, completely lost in her world of stuffed animals and imaginary battles. A soft smile tugged at Faith’s lips.

It had been a few months since the incident. Since everything changed.

Since she nearly lost everything.

Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against the chain around her neck, her thumb tracing over the simple ring that hung from it.

Albus’s ring.

She let out a quiet sigh, rolling it between her fingers. She never took it off. It rested against her heart—a constant reminder of what could have been.

What she wanted but refused to reach for.

She knew how he felt. How he tried to keep his distance, convinced he was nothing but a storm that would wreck whatever peace she had built.

But he didn’t realize—he was part of that peace.

Faith shook her head, pushing the thoughts away as she resumed cutting the tomato.

She hummed a soft lullaby as she worked, the same one she used to sing to Kerano on restless nights. It was an old song, one from before she left the Triad. Before she became this.

A mother. A fugitive.

A woman in love with a man too stubborn to believe he deserved to be loved back.

She exhaled, placing the sliced tomatoes into a bowl.

Outside, Kerano laughed, the sound full of life. And in the distance, she swore she heard the faint echo of boots approaching.

Albus was here.

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Faith didn’t turn around, didn’t need to. She just smiled as she continued preparing lunch.

“Welcome home,” she said softly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Albus froze in the doorway.

Home.

The word settled deep in his chest, foreign and familiar all at once. He had never really had a home before—just places he crashed, places he fought, places he ran from.

Yet here… in this quiet little cabin, with the scent of fresh food in the air, Kerano’s laughter outside, and Faith standing there like she had always been waiting for him—

It felt like home. And that scared the hell out of him.

He swallowed, shifting awkwardly. “Didn’t know I was staying.”

Faith glanced over her shoulder, her expression knowing but gentle. “You never do.”

Albus exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t good at this—at staying, at belonging. He didn’t deserve this place. He didn’t deserve her.

And yet… he was still standing in the doorway, unable to make himself leave.

Faith didn’t say anything more, but she reached for the bottle of whiskey on the counter, pouring a generous amount into a glass before sliding it toward him.

Albus didn’t need to be asked. He picked up the glass, his fingers wrapping around the cool rim. His eyes met hers for a moment, his usual playful grin creeping onto his face. It was a facade, a shield he wore well. But something in the way his eyes softened told her more than words ever could.

He took a long sip, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. Then, with a quick, sly smile, he looked at her again.

“Thought I was the only one with bad habits,” he teased, raising the glass as if to make a toast.

Faith didn’t flinch, not this time. “Everyone needs a vice,” she replied with a wink, continuing to slice the vegetables with practiced precision.

For a brief moment, Albus felt the walls he’d built for so long start to crumble. He knew she didn’t push. She never did. But he couldn’t shake the feeling she saw through him, knew the parts of him that were broken, the parts he kept hidden.

It wasn’t just about the whiskey.

It was the way he avoided real food, the way he filled himself with Load Pills instead.

It was the way he pushed people away even as he longed for their company.

But Albus couldn’t bring himself to let her in. Not fully.

He leaned against the doorframe, a half-smirk still playing on his lips. “Maybe one day you’ll teach me how to cook like that,” he said, nodding toward the stove.

Faith smiled without looking up. “I’m sure you’d ruin it.”

He chuckled softly, but the weight of her words, the ease of the moment, lingered in the air. The truth was, he was already ruining things. Ruining himself.

But for now, he’d settle for this—this fragile, unspoken truce. Just being here.

Just being home.

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The door swung open with a thud as Kerano stormed into the kitchen, her little legs stomping on the wooden floor in dramatic fashion. She was clutching Fluffal tightly in her arms, the bunny still showing signs of all the battles it had endured over the years. The plushie had seen more action than most warriors, and Kerano treated it like a true comrade.

She paused when she saw Albus standing near the door, her face going from fiery frustration to a more reserved, shy expression. Albus had always been there for her—another father figure in her chaotic little world—but she still wasn’t fully sure how to act around him. She had a little habit of calling him “Mr. Albus,” as if she were still trying to make sense of the fact that he was part of her world now.

Kerano waved her free hand excitedly, her voice high-pitched and eager. “Mr. Albus! Guess what! I finally won against the mean desert rats!”

Her eyes sparkled with pride, and she held Fluffal up as if the bunny had helped her win the fight. “They kept eating our raspberries, but I showed them! I told them, ‘No more! You’re not taking my mom’s berries!’”

She puffed out her chest, as if she had just saved the entire family from a great catastrophe.

Fluffal’s floppy ears bounced with every dramatic gesture.

Albus couldn’t help but smile, the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself. His usual playful demeanor softened as he looked down at Kerano, the shy little girl who had changed everything.

“Is that so?” Albus said, his voice light but warm. “You took down all the rats by yourself?”

Kerano nodded enthusiastically, spinning in a small circle as if reenacting her victory. “Yep! All by myself! Fluffal helped too!” She glanced at the bunny, holding him up like a trophy, as if Fluffal had somehow dealt the final blow.

Faith, watching the exchange from the stove, smiled softly to herself. Her heart warmed as she glanced at the two of them, knowing how much Albus meant to Kerano—and how, despite his walls, Albus had become more than just a protector to the girl. He was family.

She turned back to her work, letting the moment play out. The kitchen, once quiet and solitary, was now filled with a hum of life.

Delvin walked in, wiping his hands on a rag as he stepped through the door. His brown hair, usually messy from long hours spent working, was now streaked with a bit of muck and dust from his latest project. His green eyes flicked over the room before landing on Faith, who was busy at the stove, and then to the little whirlwind of energy that was Kerano, proudly showing off her victory over the desert rats.

He froze for a moment, looking at the kitchen floor, which had just been cleaned not long ago. His lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at his hands—definitely not clean.

Faith caught the look and sighed, wiping a hand over her forehead. She had just cleaned the floors, and now it looked like they were all covered in dirt, muck, and whatever else they had dragged in from the outside. The joys of living in a desert, she thought, slightly amused at the chaos.

Delvin chuckled sheepishly. “Well… I guess that’s my cue to leave my boots outside next time, huh?” He glanced down at his boots, now caked with dust from the day’s work.

Kerano, hearing him, darted over and quickly grabbed onto his leg. “Daddy!” she squeaked, her eyes wide with excitement. “I beat the rats! I’m a hero!”

Delvin looked down at her, his heart swelling with affection. He’d never get used to hearing her call him Dad—but it was a word he would protect with everything he had. He ruffled her messy black hair, a smile tugging at his lips. “A hero, huh? Well, I guess I’d better start calling you ‘Captain Kerano’ from now on.”

Kerano grinned brightly, then immediately ran to show Fluffal off to Delvin, her stuffed bunny now her proud trophy.

Faith watched the interaction quietly, a soft warmth filling her chest as she turned back to the stove. She had built this little family out of what she had left—what they had left—and every day it grew a little stronger. It wasn’t perfect, but in this place, with the dust and the heat, she had everything she needed.

Delvin, wiping his hands once more, looked at Faith with a knowing expression. “I’ll take the blame for the floor later,” he said, a bit of humor in his voice. But his eyes lingered on her, and for a brief moment, something more than just friendship flickered between them. He knew his place now, though—he wasn’t blind to the connection that Faith and Albus had, even if neither of them had the guts to admit it.

Faith caught the look and smiled faintly. “You’re a good dad, Delvin,” she said softly. “Kerano is lucky to have you.”

Delvin didn’t reply at first, his eyes softening as he watched Kerano run around, her laughter filling the room. He had accepted the fact that Faith had moved on, but he would never stop caring for her—and for Kerano, who had stolen his heart just as quickly as she had stolen Faith’s.

“Maybe. But it’s her that’s lucky to have you as her mom,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Faith didn’t respond right away. She just smiled quietly, her back turned as she chopped more vegetables for their meal. Delvin had been her closest friend for so long—he understood her, and she understood him. Even if their paths hadn’t crossed the way either of them expected, they had made something real together.

Outside, the wind howled over the desert, the heat pressing in from every angle. But inside this little home, amidst the dirt, the dust, and the mess—this was where they were meant to be. This was their family.

[bettasarepurebbys]

Someone please tell me that I'm not the only one who babytalks to my fish and kisses them goodnight