#we are children of empty graves

[disorganizedkitten]

We'll Take Our World By Storm Chapter 3

Harry Potter | 2021 | 9,191 | Ao3 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

 I hope that was fun. I certainly found it so. But for all these are children that are and will be important, I need to take you back to where we were before: Number Ten, Magnolia Crescent, Nineteen-Ninety-One. It’s around three in the afternoon by now, which sadly means that summer school is out.

 “I’ll go without you!” Harry threatens from the bottom of the stairs.

 “You’ll wait two minutes for me to finish this braid,” Fay snaps back. She’s in the upstairs bathroom, doing exactly that. She has one half of her hair braided from her neck down and then tied up into a loop, and is braiding the other half down her front.

 Harry sighs at the ceiling, and then jogs up the stairs. “Are you sure-“

 “I don’t need help,” Fay says tightly. Her next two folds are jerky, and then she takes a breath and the pattern evens out. She reaches the end, and glances over at Harry. “Can you hand me the pins?”

 Harry grabs a few bobby-pins and hands them to her one by one. Fay pins up the second braid, giving the effect of having a droopy bow made of hair tied at her neck. Harry sets the rest of the pins on the counter, and then hands Fay her bag. It’s an old messenger bag Vivian made when Fay started Primary School, based off Vivian’s own bag from Before. It has a lot of pockets for organization, and Regulus enchanted it not long after. Fay slings it over her shoulder, and gives him a look.

 “You have your card?”

 “Of course,” Harry pulls it out of his pocket and shows it off. Fay grins. She doesn’t check for hers, although she’s sure it’s in her bag. If it isn’t, Harry will let her check out books on his.

 Fay pounds down the stairs, darting past Harry to get to the bottom first. He gives a shout and follows, stumbling to a stop when he finds Vivian at the door. “Hi, Aunt Vivian.”

 “Leaving for real this time?” She teases. Vivian looks a lot like Fay, but her eyes are darker- brown, not silver. And Vivian doesn’t put in the work to keep her hair up beyond ponytails.

 Fay sticks out her tongue, bow-braids flopping around with her wide movements. “Yep! When do you want us back?”

 “Dinner time,” Vivian says. “Latest.”

 Harry gives a lazy two-finger salute, and Fay nods once. She’s been careful about that for years, and even when home time isn’t dinner time, they all refuse to be late without letting someone know - it’s why, despite being eleven, Fay has a flip phone in the pocket of her bag. Together, they aren’t in as much danger.

 “I’ve been called in for something, but Ian and Caspian are still here.” Vivian kisses their foreheads. 

 “Got it,” Fay says. All three leave the house at the same time, after the siblings call up goodbyes to Caspian and he discorporates to come swirl around them in a misty approximation of a hug.

 The two of them start walking east, waving to Vivian as she drives away. “I’m so glad we got your supplies when we got mine.”

 Harry snorts. “You’re just afraid of the celebrity rush.”

 “And for good reason,” Fay says with a scoff. “Ugh. Can you imagine the uproar?”

 Harry can, actually. It makes him giggle, a little wistful but mostly anxious and amused. “We’d play hide ‘n seek the entire trip.”

 “Ooh we should do that the next time we go!”

 Harry grins, apprehension forgotten. “We should! Make it a family day out, you know?”

 “Yes!”

 “Although Delphi isn’t allowed to shift.”

 “No, she should be,” Fay counters quickly, voice rising in her excitement. “And glamours should be allowed too. Remember how excited she’s been about finally getting into Ancient Runes for that project her and her friends are doing? And if we were actually avoiding someone, we’d use everything in our arsenal. Then we could try to pick people out using mannerisms and magic sense instead of our eyes!”

 “Fay, you’re a genius!”

 Fay grins and flicks her head back, causing her bow to bounce. “Well, I did grow up with you.”

 “Guess you had to catch up sometime.” Harry smirks. Fay splutters and then sticks her tongue out. “Race you to the library!” Harry takes off after sticking his tongue out in return.

 “Hey!” Fay yells, rushing after him.

 They stop running after a few minutes, and walk the rest of the mile and a half. Despite that, when they reach the building, Harry holds the door open for Fay and sticks his tongue out when he says he won. Fay makes a face, but ends up laughing.

 They spend an hour in the library, with Harry hunting down books and reading the first chapters of one while Fay works on the 200 piece puzzle in the entryway. Afterwards, the siblings decide to go to the park. Now, in their neighborhood, there are two parks, because it’s actually two neighborhoods with an access road between them. Magnolia Crescent is on the western side, and Privet Drive on the eastern. Sadly, the Library is also located to the east, about a mile and a half from the house.

 I suppose you wouldn’t know why them having to walk around Privet Drive is so terrible. We’ll get there. The point is, to go to park, Harry and Fay could either go to the eastern one, which is directly accessible from Wisteria Way, the access road that leads into a third neighborhood to the south. The highway is northwards. Or, they could walk back into Magnolia Crescent all the way, past their house, and down a set of houses towards the western park.

 They go to the eastern one, today.

 Harry finds a tree to read under, and Fay goes to swing. There’s another group of kids at the park, who drag Fay into a game of Groundies within minutes.

  "Is the paper-legend good?"

 Harry looks down at his visitor, and smiles. The little, still unnamed constrictor reaches her neck to lay her head across Harry's thigh. "Yes." He picks a blade of grass and puts it in his page, before flicking back to the start of the story.

  "What's it about?"

 "I'm not sure yet," Harry says. "It's called To Kill A Mockingbird."

  "Will you read it to me?"

  "Of course. Get comfy." Harry gives her a moment as he puts on his reading voice, something he learned in a household of storytellers. Even with the voice, he doesn’t read in english. He’s talking to a snake, so he translates to snake as he reads. It’s a skill not many have. "When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and his fears of never being able to play football were assuaged-" here, the snake tapped Harry's arm twice with her tail, their signal for her having a question. "he was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somewhat shorter than his right; when he stood or walked, the back of his hand was at right angles to his body, his thumb parallel to his thigh. He couldn't have cared less, so long as he could pass and punt." Harry tapped where he stopped once, and then looked at the snake. "Question?"

 "What's football?"

  "It's a game where we use our feet-" he gestures at his own "-to kick around a ball and score. Although I think this book is from America, where they call rugby football."

 "Why?"

 "I don't know," Harry says drily. "Americans don't think like proper snakes enough to clearly name things. They call football soccer. But you play the game by using your feet and a ball! Football!"

 "Like family-den," the little snake says sagely. Snakes don't bother with complex names- things are what they are. Harry is Speaker-Who-Reads and sometimes Speaker-Who-Reads-Human-Script if a snake wants to take the time. He was Wrong-Death-Cheater before, and some new snakes still call him that or Greater-Death-Cheater. Fay is Little-Death-Cheater, but before that she was Misspeaking-Hatchling. Adrian is Sun-Human-Nestfather, and Regulus Snake-Charmer or Large-Nestfather. (Sometimes he's Beastspeaking Human Hatchling Of Protector Predator Without Fur, but that's a proper society title among snakes). Caspian is Broken-Magic-Hatchling-Of-Snake-Charmer, or Night-Mist. Sometimes the names change, because the people do too.

  "Yes," Harry agrees.

 "Hey look, it's the Freak!"

  "Blubber-venom," the little snake hisses. Harry looks up, jaw clenched.

 A pudgy, white eleven year old with two chins and blonde hair is standing above him, grinning maliciously. Considering he's an eleven year old — and they can only hold so much maliciousness in their bodies — this is impressive.

 Of course, this is also Dudley Vernon Dursley, Harry’s maternal cousin, who was raised by 'perfectly normal' people with an abnormal hate for anything not in their worldview, so… Maybe it isn't that surprising.

 "When I got my name changed," Harry says drily, carefully closing the book as his snake friend retreats, "I'm very sure there wasn't an F anywhere in it."

 Dudley makes a face. His parents don't particularly care if he's intelligent, and puzzles were discontinued after his second tantrum over them.

 It's his friend Piers Polkiss who understands Harry's comeback instead, and snarls. "Freaks don't get to pick their nicknames, Freak."

 "Does the same rule apply to rats, Polkiss?" By this time, Harry has stood up, leaving his book on the ground with his snake and Fay's shoulder bag. 

 "You sound crazy when you hiss like that," Dursley says like an insult.

 "And you sound like an idiot anytime you open your mouth."

 Across the park, Fay finds her way down the stairs to open her eyes and make a face at Jess, who is climbing back onto the main playground floor from her position hanging outside the railing. Fay isn't tall enough to reach up and grab Jess' ankle. Michael, over at the swings, freezes, and then starts creeping back towards the main equipment. Fay sees him and starts towards him and the edge of the playground. "Groundies!"

 Michael groans, and Fay is about to run back to the playground when she spots Harry surrounded by her three least favorite neighbors. "On T!" Fay calls, abandoning the game in favor of supporting her brother.

 “Two Ten Groundies!” Michael calls, turning to the kids still playing.

 "Shut your mouth!" Dursley snarls as Fay comes up beside them.

 "What, scared he'll show everyone how much smarter he is?"

 Dudley skitters back from her, moments after Piers and Malcolm. Fay rolls her eyes, and shifts her shoulders so she’s ready to punch him.

 “No one asked for your opinion!” Malcolm snaps. Dudley is the leader, but he’s scared of magic while Piers is the Bugs Meany to Fay’s Sally Kimball.

 She’s still proud of that one, despite all three parental units giving matching lectures of “I get why you did it but it was still wrong, and next time don’t break your thumb.” ...Then again, maybe that’s why she’s still proud of it. “I doubt Harry asked for yours either, but here we are.”

 “If I wanted advice on good life decisions I’d just do the opposite of whatever you’d say,” Harry says, matching her tone. “But then again, to do that I’d have to listen to you in the first place.” Dudley growls. Harry clenches his fists but rolls his eyes. Fay taps her hand to his right before he folds his arms up to give off a decent unimpressed vibe. “Go read a book, Dursley. Or plant a tree, if you think you can do that without killing it. Make up for all the air you’re using.” Harry wants to say ‘the air you’re wasting,’ but he was raised properly and there are boundaries.

 “I’ll tell mum you were being freakish in the park!” Dudley threatens.

 This, after seven years outside of Petunia Dursley nee Evans’ custody, is a useless threat. “So? She can’t do anything about it.”

 Later, this gang will be the type to throw punches, but for now Dudley tries to shove Harry into the tree, and when Harry catches himself and Fay throws herself at Dudley, he screams and runs off. Piers follows, although Malcolm stays to sneer. “Careful Dunbar, next year we can arrest you for assault.”

 “I’d love to see that,” Fay threatens in return, swaying back to her feet. “Especially when you always start it. Maybe we’ll share a cellblock.”

 He sneers again but flounces off. Harry breathes out sharply, and Fay lets him grab her hand. He sits down and groans, pulling Fay with him. She lands beside him, but flops sideways onto his stomach quickly. 

  “I dislike that human,” the little constrictor says, poking her nose out from under Fay’s bag.

  “Me too,” Fay hisses. The constrictor starts climbing Fay’s face, and the girl lets her.

  “Hello Little-Death-Cheater.”

  “Hello,” Fay says, much of the hate leaving her tone. “Have you chosen a name yet?”

 “No,” she admits, pulling her tail up so she can curl on top of Fay’s chest. The constrictor doesn’t care which chest she’s on, the heartbeat is the same. “I want my speaker name to mean smart-wise-knowing-advice-old-has-seen-much.”

  “Athena? She’s the Greek goddess of wisdom, war strategy, and I think something else,” Harry offers. “Or Thoth, the Egyptian god of knowledge.”

 “I’ll consider them,” the constrictor says.

 Harry picks his book back up and opens it. “I’m gonna start again.”

 “Okay,” Fay says. She listens to a few paragraphs before the jitters start, and she gets up to go join back in on the game.

 “Are you trying to be a wrecking ball?” Caspian asks, watching Ian push his lego creation with all of his insignificant upper body strength.

 “No,” Ian says, eager to explain the story he is creating with blocks and dolls. “Bad guys knock down! Fire-fight fix!”

 “Ah,” Caspian says in his best sagely voice. He’s been dealing with little kids since he was nine, and is luckily still good at it. “Which ones are the bad guys?” Ian waves the two dolls in his hands. “And the good guys?” Ian sets down one of his dolls to point at three other dolls sitting on the ground. “I see. A good team.”

 Ian grins and turns back to his game. Caspian looks down at his sketchpad and turns away from the page of eye practice. The dolls’ designs are rather basic, but he can work with them. Caspian starts by sketching a collapsing building. Later, he’ll adapt designs for the heroes and villains and add them to the scene, but for now he works on his perspectives.

 Fay and Harry head home around five thirty. Most of their conversation over the short walk is light and random, led by Fay’s wandering focus and Harry egging her on.

 There’s one part though, that isn’t.

 “I hate him,” Fay says, glaring holes in Dudley’s back as he and his gang wait to cross the highway. Fay and Harry aren’t going to take the intersection, because Wisteria Way is a barely used road and really, they’d just waste time if they went north to the intersection and then back south towards Magnolia Crescent. “Sometimes I wish I could-” Fay’s mouth shuts with an angry clack.

 “If you say stab him, I’ll have to inform you that assault is still illegal,” Harry snarks. He loves his sister, and he doesn’t like his ‘cousin’, but Harry ignores them as much as he can, which is a lot more than Fay does. It’s not until Fay’s wide, extraneous movements stop in the middle of the road that Harry remembers. “Too soon?” he asks softly, taking a step back so he’s not leaving Fay behind.

 “No,” Fay says. Her voice is high, but her tone and expression are flat. Her fists are clenched. “It’s been four years. That’s plenty of time.” She sounds dead. Robotic, maybe, but mostly drained of emotion. As the Narrator, I can tell you that Fay is actually very upset. She’s already got ADHD, but the rushing in her ears isn’t that. Neither are her clenched fists, or the sudden ghost aches in her chest. No, that would be called PTSD.

 “You don’t have to rush through trauma recovery, Fay,” Harry says gently. “Or ignore it altogether. You certainly shouldn’t.” He’s treating her like a spooked animal, which is an accurate description. She’s a spooked fox right now.

 “You’re not my therapist.”

 “You don’t have a therapist.”

 “I’m fine,” Fay snaps, voice rising with the force she’s trying to put into the phrase. She starts walking again, faster now than before.

 “It’s okay if you’re not.”

 “You are,” Fay says bitterly.

 Harry scowls, keeping up easily. “That’s not the same thing and you know it.” He clenches his jaw before he can keep getting upset, and takes a breath instead. “And anyway, you’re wrong. I don’t think any of us are okay with what happened to you. You don’t have to pretend to be.”

 “I want to be!” Fay snaps, desperation coming through her tone at last. It gives her an air of life that she’d cut off minutes ago, especially when she turns to speak instead of staring straight ahead. “Papa doesn’t talk about as many cases anymore, I still can’t go to the basement, and I just want to be normal again!”

 Harry scoffs. He sounds derisive, but he’s hiding empathy. “Normal? Like the Perfectly Normal Dursleys? Like how it would be normal for a Black to be in Azkaban? Boring and casual?” Harry swallows his next scathing remark, because he’s trying to help Fay, not hurt her, and a guilt trip would hurt.

 “No! Yes!” She takes a deep breath and exhales harshly. “I just don’t want to worry,” she says softly. “I don’t want to freeze up and I don’t want any of you to have to watch your words around me.”

 Harry shrugs, and steps sideways to bump shoulders. “Like that’s any different from the rest of us,” he drawls. Fay laughs once, despite herself.

 “Fine, I’m normal for our household. Happy?”

 “Only if you are.”

 Fay closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I will be. I have to be.” She opens her eyes and makes a face, her next thought slipping in and grabbing hold. “Ew. I’m never going to get a quiet moment at Hogwarts.”

 “You could go to Slytherin. People expect them to be creepy.”

 This time, Fay scoffs. “No thanks. Ambition? Eh, maybe. But cunning and the ability to live by word games? I’ll trip over my tongue way too much.”

 Harry shrugs. “If you say so.”

 “Besides, I thought you were going to Hufflepuff?”

 “Well yeah,” Harry says as if it’s obvious. “But the Sett is in the basement and the Den in the dungeons, so we’d be close. Certainly closer than if you go to your tower house.”

 Fay shrugs. “We’ll see.” This time she shoulder-checks him.

 I remember talking about the cores of the houses, but here is something you must remember: Few things stay the way they were intended. A civil rights group can become a terrorist gang. A refuge can become a prison or an exclusive area. Protests can turn into mass violence. Houses made for the sake of sitting like-minded children under certain teachers can become cliques. A treaty for peace can lead to inability to properly prosecute criminals. A shelter for lost animals can become their final home.

 Ambition became bigotry and cunning became manipulation. Daring became recklessness and Boldness became stubbornness. Kindness became weak-wills and acceptance became naivety. Curiosity became showing off and interest became strictness.

 Red became Heroes, Green became Villains, Yellow became Afterthoughts and Blue became Tools.

 These are not what the houses should be. 

 Thankfully, these are not quite what the graveyard siblings mean.

 “Would it help to try looser hairstyles?”

 Fay shakes her head. “No. I think- the hair thing is mine. Sure, the start was… that. But I like doing it. Even if no one else understands.”

 “Alright,” Harry acquiesces easily. He knows his sister, but at their hearts, technically, they’re different people. Hearts really isn’t the right word here. Cores, perhaps? Yes, I think so. Fay and Harry are different people at their cores, and so Harry trusts Fay to choose what she thinks is best. Usually.

 They are children. They can, have, and will make mistakes.

 Thankfully, this isn’t one of them. Harry was correct earlier when he said recovery can’t be rushed, and this is him refusing to rush Fay’s.

 After a few steps, Fay starts talking quietly again. “Do you think Dad would get me a knife?”

 “Probably,” Harry says softly. He doesn’t waste much time before finishing what he’s thinking - like I said, he only trusts her most of the time. “He’d also probably enchant it so you can’t use it on yourself.”

 “I wouldn’t!” Fay snaps, turning to glare. Her bow-braids flop with the movement. Harry raises an eyebrow at her, and neither trip on Number Seven’s driveway rock collection. Fay’s indignation drops, and she averts her eyes. “I know you can’t carve scars away.”

 “Good,” Harry replies, tone as quiet as hers had been. They reach number nine not long after, and Harry waits until they’re crossing the road to continue. “I bet if you asked, Delphi would build you a glamour for while we’re at school.”

 “I’m not planning on wearing anything low cut,” Fay says, blunt and honest. She doesn’t rub her chest, but she does link each of her hands around the opposite wrist.

 Earlier, I told you about Harry’s physical scars. What they looked like, where they were, even if they weren’t visible. What I didn’t tell you is that his are far from the only scars among the residents of Ten Magnolia Drive. Vivian has a line across her right forearm and a bullet wound in her left leg. Regulus is missing his left arm from mid-upper-arm down, and you can find small scratches on most places of his body if you bother to look close enough. Reg is pale as all get-out, so his blend in the most. Caspian can discorporate on command or whenever he’s overwhelmed. Adrian’s scars are definitely the most benign, a mass of scar tissue on his leg from a sharp rock in highschool, and a deep line across his thumb from a scalpel slipping in college. And Fay’s is a twisting, ragged mess of scars across her ribcage, with a slash sideways on her stomach and the only straight line running from her bellybutton to the dip between her clavicles. The top of that one is the only one visible in most clothes.

 “Okay,” Harry says. “If you change your mind, I’m sure she could use the incentive.”

 “Okay.” Fay opens the front door with a flourish. “Cas! We’re home!”

 While life as a whole is interesting, nothing else relevant happens until much later. Noctua the Greater Sooty Owl reaches the Dunbar-Black residence around one in the morning of July twenty-fifth. This may seem an odd time to you, but please think back to the owl lore I imparted upon you after the beginnings. Owls, especially properly bonded owls such as Noctua, will appear when convenient. In this case, that means she returns home at one A.M., entering through an upstairs window, to a child whose night took a nosedive.

 Not that you can tell from the window there’s a child in the room. It’s the lone room on its side of the hallway, and instead of a teenager splayed despondently on the bed, there’s a roiling black miasma that covers the comforter and drips down to cover most of the floor.

 This is, as I said, Caspian’s scar. He lives with a parasite chewing on his magic, unable to use it to the extent of an average wix, let alone his siblings. Sometimes he can’t pull together into a solid human being, though usually, he can shift on command. But this type of magic, the magic that runs through Regulus, Harry, Fay and Caspian’s viens? The type that fuels Delphi and Dora and Alicia? This is an emotional magic. Some wix gain renown for being able to control magic without a wand. Some people call this wandless, which is a Snake Name if I’ve ever heard one. In children, it’s called accidental.

 In reality, it’s just wild. Structured magic is made with wands and rituals. It’s reliable, recreatable... the most scientific type of magic there is. Wild magic is made with movements, feelings and wishes. Both are good with the opportunity to be bad. Both can be learned through hard work. Wix can have affinities for either, and if they don’t like it they can learn the other.

 Caspian will never learn structured magic, but he’s learnt enough wild magic to stop the parasite from killing him, as it would most others.

 ...I seem to have gone on a tangent. You should get used to it.

 The point of explaining magic to you readers, whom I doubt have any of your own, is to explain that Caspian is simultaneously tied more and less to his magic than others you meet will be. A bad day for most can mean a few windows or cups shattering, maybe a small explosion. For Caspian, it means physicality takes more work than he has energy.

 When Noctua enters the house, slipping through the open window with grace and a whirring, whistling noise that sounds like a bomb being dropped, Caspian shudders. It takes a few minutes, during which Noctua makes herself comfortable on the bedpost, for Caspian to pull himself together.

 “Hey Nocts,” he says softly.

 Noctua cheeps and moves to his shoulder. She does this for two reasons- the second is to make the letters more accessible. The first is so she can preen him. Caspian may be her owlet’s nestling, but he is her owlet too. Human connections can influence owl claims, but only if the owl allows it. If you believe Noctua is the type to allow it, you are severely mistaken and may be reading too fast. This is an owl who bonded herself to a wizard, instead of the other way around. 

 Noctua preens his dark hair as Caspian takes the letters off her foot and sorts through them.

 There's one to Vivian from Amelia, and then three half-pages. One for Caspian, one for Vivian and Adrian, and one for Harry and Fay. These are from Regulus.

 Caspian takes his, because he doesn't need to read his family's, and because Regulus has always been the best for calming him down. Vivian has always been the worst at it, just for the record.

  Caspian,

Hey kiddo. Amy says you guys have been worrying. Don't let Viv and Rian psyche you out, I know what I’m doing.

 Besides- nothing here is going to take off my other arm.

 I might have just found a lead; yes, I know, I say that often, but I am usually right. Stay safe, don’t let the kids cause too many problems. I will be home in time for the dinner with Bones’, so I’ll see you soon.

  I love you, Caspian.

Regulus Artcurus Black, Heir of The Most No-

-Regulus. <3

 Caspian grins, a little wry and a lot sad, as he reads. It’s all good news, but what he really wants is for his dad to sit against the wall and tell him a story while he falls apart and pieces himself back together.

 Anyone else in the household would do it, Harry had even offered before he went to bed, but they never have the same energy Regulus does.

 Noctua keeps preening, telling him about her day in short cheeps and chirps, telling him about how well Regulus looks and how nice the old lady was. It doesn’t do much, mostly because Caspian doesn’t speak owl.

 If Noctua absolutely needs to tell a story using words, it’s best for her to go find a snake to translate, since the wix in her home all speak parseltongue, which is the official wizarding name for snake language. Well, to be fair, Regulus speaks a couple magical beast-based languages, but he is a terrible translator. He’s too formal.

 Caspian appreciates the effort anyway, and reaches up to try and pet Noctua’s back. His control slips halfway through, so instead he merely blows mist through her feathers, but she understands.

 Caspian lays back and lets himself melt. Noctua cheeps again and picks at the mist where his shoulder used to be, before taking off with another high-pitched whistle. She narrowly pivots at the ceiling, and then dives towards the windowsill. She lands on it primly and turns her head the required three-hundred-and-sixty degrees to stare at Caspian. She cheeps again.

 Caspian’s miasma tightens, not enough to form a human, but to form something humanoid, whose head-cloud tilts. Noctua chirps — quietly, because it’s dark and she’s smart — and then takes off out the window.

 Caspian loses shape again and follows her.

 It’s interesting, readers, how intelligent animals are. There’s a story I know, not related to this one, where a Guinea Pig reacted to her human-child’s distress. There are stories of dogs checking for breathing, and cats giving headbutts instead of hugs. There are military animals and there are therapy animals. Animals are not humans, but they can be intelligent despite that. Sometimes more than humans, sometimes less. This is one such scenario.

 Noctua has spent seven years living in this household, and nine years taking care of Regulus. She knows how to help her owlets and nestlings.

 Since she does not have the vocal range to tell Caspian stories, she’ll take him flying until it takes more effort to remain mist on the wind than it does to be solid.

 Regulus Black does return around nine the same morning, but before that I have to take you back to another country. Remember Scotland and the castle? Yes, I need you back there.

 This is Hogwarts Castle. You'll know well of its existence by now. And you have heard of, if not seen, Minerva McGonagall's existence.

 She is a teacher, the head of Gryffindor house, and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Old and Scottish, her face is lined but her hair is still black. Wixen age much slower; Minerva is sixty-five, and only her wrinkles give it away.

 Inside the castle, Minerva has woken up, dressed herself in smart green robes, eaten breakfast, and set up to check letters and build attendance lists.

 ...I mentioned that yesterday was The Calm Before The Storm.

 Today, The Storm Is Brewing.

 Minerva lays out the letters and adds the seven names in alphabetical order to the longer parchment she already has. She cross references this with two other lists, one from the Book of Names and one with annotations for MCPS. Unlike many other stories, when she comes upon Harry and Connor’s acceptance letters, she isn’t surprised at all. This isn’t because she’s part of a conspiracy to dispose of Harry, or because she’s a seer, but rather because she is Minerva McGonagall, one of the few reasonable and functional adults these kids will have access to. Which, I’ll admit, is a convoluted way of saying she works with Magical Child Protective Services and has already met Harry in the years since the Godric’s Hollow disaster.

 Minerva finishes, and then because Lily Evans and James Potter were some of her favorite students, she writes a letter of her own.

Dear Lily and James;

    I am looking forward to teaching your boys. Please make sure they both know I expect excellence; a few years among muggles cannot dampen magical prowess and I will be disappointed if he pretends it does.

Sincerely,

 Minerva McGonagall

 Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts

 It's not a long letter. Not one sent with the intent to cause panic. Not one sent to show off that Minerva knows more than the Potters. It's just a short, friendly missive to former students and teammates. She doesn’t remember that the Potters don’t know, or even know that herself. She’s not the MCPS Department Head. Her letter is meant to be teasing and friendly, not ominous enough to shatter family bonds.

 Minerva takes it out of her office, down a few floors, and then to the outer tower that houses the owlery. She sends it with an unbonded school owl, and doesn't think any more on it.

 On her way back to the castle she runs into Rubeus Hagrid, the Groundskeeper. He has bowtruckles - twig creatures - in his hair, which is bushy and long and grows into his brown beard.

 "Good mornin' ‘Nerva!"

 "Good morning, Rubeus," Minerva says, slowing her walk. "How are the Acromantula hatchlings?"

 Rubeus Hagrid, whom I will be calling Rubeus despite most calling him Hagrid, grins, wide and bright. He towers nearly three feet over Minerva, who is herself five feet and nine inches tall. "They're coming along great! Largest set of survivors so far. Aragog is so proud." It's a project from when they were in school together, nearly fifty years ago. Minerva and Rubeus were Gryffindors, although she was a few years ahead of him. Aragog is the first of their Acromantulas, and the leader of this group.

 "Oh do pass on my congratulations," Minerva says lightly. "And Mosag is doing well?"

 "Laying eggs doesn't do much to 'er," Rubeus says. "Biggest issue is that she's getting old. I think they'll just have to dote on grandkids next year." Mosag is, of course, Aragog’s mate. Luckily they don’t breed like black widows.

 Minerva, who has a few grandchildren of her own, understands the sentiment. "They’ll get more freedom that way, not having to deal with as many tantrums.”

 Rubeus hums. “They’ll all be living together, though.”

 "I suppose that's true." Minerva changes direction, so instead of going to the castle she was going towards the hut on the grounds. This is where Rubeus lives, and has since he stopped being a student. "Do you think you'll have time for another visit this month?"

 "Ah course!" Rubeus says cheerily. "Any idea what time works best for 'em?"

 Minerva purses her lips. "I think he'll be another of the bad ones," she admits. "Probably a Slytherin or Hufflepuff."

 "Pink and blue for the cake, then?"

 Minerva smiles, glancing over at her friend. "Yes. Perhaps some orange or silver too."

 "I'll make sure they're good and ready," he promises.

 “Thank you. Do you want Regulus’ notes before you go, or compare after?” “I think only triggers first,” Rubeus says, as usual. He has long since grown out of letting others do his thinking for him, especially when it comes to children.

 Connor Potter is eating a late breakfast when the Hogwarts owl knocks on the window. Obviously, this confuses him. He already has his Hogwarts letter.

 This isn’t an official letter, as I hope you guessed. 

 Lily picks the letter up and opens it, leaning on the kitchen counter as she reads.

 Now. You don't know everything that's happened. I do, but I'm a Narrator and therefore get special privileges. What I'm trying to say here, is that while Lily has some information you don't, you also have some information she doesn't.

 Such as knowing Harry's general health status and residence.

 Right about now is when Lily realizes that Harry has magic.

 You're welcome.

 [Cathy-]

 [Sally, I’m working.]

 Lily does not do too well with this information. Not because she doesn't want him to be, but rather because it means she has missed many events she didn't need to, and that her sister has been lying for years.

 "Mum?" Connor asks, watching as Lily's face goes pale, the hand holding the letter beginning to shake. "What happened?"

 Connor feels usease growing, although for a different reason than Lily's. His dad is an auror, and there's always the chance of something going wrong. This is where his thoughts go, instead.

 Lily shakes her head loosely, only peripherally noticing her older son. "It's- there's- McGonagall said-" she takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "I need to go."

 Connor lunges away from the table and wraps a hand around his mom's wrist before she can apparate.

 Apparition in the Wizarding world is not a term used to refer to spectres, but rather a method of transportation. Among whom I believe you readers are, the concept is easier explained as personal teleportation.

 Lily twists on her heel, dragging Connor with her as she pops out of their home in Somerset and over to Surrey, which is just southwest of London.

 "Mum, what happened?!"

 “It’s your brother,” Lily says breathlessly.

 Connor freezes for a moment as Lily keeps walking down the street. “Hadrian?”

 “Yeah,” Lily agrees.

 Lily knows this neighborhood. She has been here four times before, once ten years ago, twice seven years ago, once three years ago, and doesn’t stumble as she walks through the area towards Number Four, Privet Drive. Connor doesn’t know the area, but he follows Lily as she storms through the place.

 “What’s- you don’t usually get letters.” Connor’s voice is small and unusually anxious. “It’s normally feelings, right?”

 “Yes,” Lily agrees. “It’s-” she sighs. “I don’t think he’s in danger, Connor.”

 “What was the letter?”

 “He’s been accepted at Hogwarts.”

 It takes a couple of minutes for Connor to parse through to what that sentence means and why it's causing panic, in which they reach the house in question. Privet Drive doesn’t contrast Magnolia Crescent much, but it does have its differences. One of which is that instead of being full of people who personalize their cookie-cutter houses, Privet Drive Residents would rather match. The street is full of brown townhouses that share walls with each other’s garages, instead of the white and black singular houses found across Wisteria Way.

 “Oh,” Connor says numbly. Hogwarts accepts magicals only, and as I said, often the prestigious ones. He looks at his mum as she knocks. “Does that mean I can meet him?” Connor's voice is as faint as Lily’s when he asks. 

 “Yes, you should,” Lily agrees. She knocks again, less sharp and more forceful, pounding.

 Connor feels some mix of elation and lingering nervousness, although now it doesn’t carry as apocalyptic of a feel. He’s heard of Hadrian, seen baby pictures from before Lily and James sent him away. Connor can’t remember ever hearing Hadrian’s voice, though, because he hasn’t. Hadrian hadn’t learned to speak fully before they were separated. Connor is glad his mum cleared it up though- it’s much less taxing to be anxious about a new person than it is to be anxious about one you already know dying.

 The door opens and then slams in their faces.

 Lily frowns and raps again, harder.

 Inside, Vernon Dursley fumes. He, like his son, is extremely obese, and more bad tempered than he is heavy. “Pet! Your freak of a sister is here!”

 Petunia Dursley skitters out of the kitchen, eyes wide. Her thoughts all carry to the tune of ‘What did the freak boy do now?’ Petunia is blonde, like her son and husband, although hers is dirty enough to almost be brown. Her neck is long, and her face narrow: it’s a sharp contrast indeed, for Petunia is underweight and tightly controlled where her family is obese and impulsively emotional. “I’ve got it. Take Dudders out the back.” This order comes for a few reasons, one is that she doesn’t want her precious son to be exposed to magic, and the second is because her son would be the first to expose their lies.

 When Petunia opens the door, she smiles tightly. “Honestly Lily, you’re such a worrywart.”

 “You didn’t tell me!” Lily snaps, in no mood for niceties.

 “Excuse me?” Petunia asks, panic shooting through her. There are rather a lot of things she hasn’t told her sister.

 “Where is my son?” Lily says instead, pushing her way inside the quaint home. Connor follows, and he cases the place first, looking for signs of his little brother. The issue is he doesn’t see any. All the picture frames, of which there are a lot, only include the Dursleys and family on Vernon’s side. Connor doesn’t know these people, but he knows his brother will have dark skin, even if he dyed his hair as he grew up.

 There are no pictures that fit that description.

 Lily notices the same thing faster, when she looks around a minute later.

 “He’s- out at friends,” Petunia says shakily. “Why?”

 Lily turns a glare on her. “Hogwarts just owled me,” she says venomously. “Hadrian is magical. So where is my son?”

 “You gave him away!” Petunia snaps back. “He’s not yours anymore.”

 “I thought he would live better without being teased by magic!” Lily snaps. “You were always jealous, Tuney, don’t try to deny it.”

 “So you’d rather give us a blight on our household?”

 As the sisters keep fighting, Connor looks around more. There are video games, but they’re all either in poor shape or very new. There’s trash on the floor and the couch looks overused. He slips away and into the kitchen, which is pristine apart from the half-eaten snacks on the table. The cupboard under the stairs has locks, which Connor finds weird, because they’re old, but they obviously lock on the outside and are opened with a key from inside. They look like a terrible child-proofing technique. He’s pretty sure muggles know better.

 “I visited! Why didn’t you just tell me then?”

 “It was more worth it to keep the kid and get the money,” Petunia sneers behind him.

 Connor makes a face at her greed, as it reminds him of some of his least favorite society adults. He sneaks up the stairs next, which isn’t any more helpful than the downstairs. There are four bedrooms, one which is full of, forgive my language, trash and crap. Unbeknownst to Connor, this is Dudley’s second bedroom, where he keeps all of his unnecessary possessions that cannot fit in his main bedroom. Connor moves on. The next is Dudley’s main bedroom, which is a mess but includes clothes and a bed. Then he finds the master bedroom, and the guest room.

 Connor very quickly realizes either his brother is a terrible slob, or isn’t living here. The prospect causes fresh terror to rise in his gut. If Hadrian isn’t here, where is he?

 Connor takes the stairs back down two at a time, and pauses to look at his mum and aunt.

 “You make no sense!” Lily spits. “Vernon is always bragging about how much he makes; you should have just sent Hadrian back!”

 “I couldn’t!” Petunia snarls.

 “Whyever not?” Lily rolls her eyes as she scoffs.

 “I killed him!” Petunia shrieks.

  I killed him.

 The words echo around the house.

 Connor trips on the last step.

 Lily takes a breath, eyes wide, breathing shallow, ears ringing.

 It doesn’t change what she heard.

 Despite appearances, or assumptions I may have given you earlier, Lily Potter loves her children. She can, has, and will die for them. It’s obvious, then, that hearing this is wounding.

 Another breath, wherein Petunia covers her mouth in horror and Lily nearly shuts down. She would have, grief overpowering anger, if Connor hadn’t gasped. The sound yanks Lily out of her spiral, and she turns away from her sister and to her son. Her bright eyes are wet as she reaches out and drags him to her. Her mind is reeling. Every time she visited, pulled by panic, pain, and a bond she still doesn’t understand, Petunia insisted that Hadrian had no magic. Petunia refused to let Lily ever see Hadrian.

 She very sharply regrets ever listening to Petunia’s demands, even on their logical days.

 It makes some sense that Hadrian is dead, and yet makes none at all. Lily has felt him. She needs more information, to find out how and why her rituals failed, she needs- Lily needs to mourn and think and- something doesn’t add up here.

 It will, reader, but not yet.

 She drops a kiss on Connor’s crown, trying to comfort him while reassuring herself that at least one of her children is definitely alive. After a moment, her thoughts return to Petunia. She is not discussing infanticide with the victim’s brother in the room. “I think there’s a park down the road,” she whispers into his hair. “Go over there, I’ll-” she pauses when her voice cracks, and presses her wand into his hand. “-pick you up later. After I figure this out.” And she will, eventually. Lily prays that this will be like the time before, even as she knows the chances are terribly low.

 Petunia should hope she gave Lily's son a proper funeral.

 Connor gives her back her wand, flashing his own, which he snuck into his pocket before breakfast.

 Lily nods and then stands up, turning to look at her sister. It’s not quite a glare, but it is heavy with betrayal and intent to receive answers. The unnaturally bright color only thickens the atmosphere. That storm I mentioned?

 It’s here.

 Connor takes a step towards the door when she lets go. He’s not crying yet, just breathing heavily, but that will happen later, once it sinks in. See, Connor has heard of his brother. When his parents are feeling nostalgic, or when the Weasley twins do something ridiculous, Hadrian is mentioned occasionally. But most often? Most often, which luckily wasn’t all that often, Connor heard about his brother during late nights or dark days in the basement, when his mom wrote runes and chanted and probably broke the law - sometimes she would talk about him. But Connor has never considered him actually dying. Getting hurt, sure. Glowing eyes and flowing blood had given that impression plenty when he was young. But he has never considered death as a possibility.

 Connor closes the front door behind him, and stays there for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears have started now, and then his aunt is talking again, and he can't make out the words but he doesn't like the tone. He clenches his fists and starts walking down the unfamiliar road, completely lost within minutes.

Now, earlier that day, around nine o’clock I’d say, Adrian Dunbar floos into Amelia Bones’ office within the Ministry of Magic. Floo travel is… well it’s not hard to explain the action but I consider the name disingenuous: it’s derived from the Flue Chamber in a fireplace, which is the inside of a chimney. Nominally it makes sense, however floo travel works by sucking the traveler down into the flames, not up like a Santa Claus ripoff. The Floo Network is a series of magical fireplaces across the world, and since they are imbued with magic when they’re built, one does not need a magical core to travel among them.

 “Good morning,” Amelia says warmly as he stumbles out of her person-sized fireplace. Adrian has not mastered magical travel, even this many years later. It could be due to his lack of magical core, or he could simply not have the best equilibrium. Personally, I advocate the latter, because even wixen aren’t perfect- indeed, many stumble whilst they travel.

 “Good morning, Amelia,” Adrian says, grinning. He has a bag of medical basics thrown over his shoulder, and his hair is tied behind his head per the usual.

 “You remember how to get there?”

 “Yep.” By which he means ‘Probably, so long as the hallways don’t move.’ It’s a valid concern in magical buildings - his own house does it.

 “Good luck, then,” Amelia bids, opening her office door. “Lift’s on the east side today.”

 “Of course it is.” Adrian rolls his eyes. He’s not sure why magic is allergic to being coherent. “Can I use the floo again for lunch?”

 “Certainly.” Amelia doesn’t add a clause about not messing with her stuff, because Adrian isn’t the type. “I might not be here though.”

 “Alright.” Adrian bids her farewell and heads into the hallway and bullpen, crossing to the lift. He waves to James Potter on the way, who grins back since his hands are busy trying to wrangle on the red overobe that is his department’s uniform. They're not friends, but they're both friend ly enough to smile at strangers in the mornings. James doesn’t know Adrian, he barely sees Adrian and has no reason to note his existence beyond the Sunshine Person he sees every now and then. Adrian does know James, most people do for some reason or other, but Adrian knows him because Regulus had a dart board with his face for six months. It was taken down after Reg got custody of Harry. Adrian doesn’t really care about James’ existence - people change, gossip is rampant, and he’s never had to interact with the man personally. He is also unaware of Noctua’s vendetta, but to be fair not even Regulus knows about Noctua’s vendetta. That is simply a Noctua thing.

 Otherwise, nothing important happens as he delves into the bowels of the Ministry, down the lift and through ill-lit hallways towards a spinning entryway. The Department of Mysteries, where he's working today, is a giant circle, magically enhanced to connect everyone inside to everything inside.

  Adrian has to stop and stare when he leaves the circular entryway and enters the Death Chamber.

 The next room is… heavy. That's the first word to come to mind. As Heavy as the hospital when his kid was dying or his morgue when it’s full. Heavy like an unsolved murder, or a fresh crime scene. Like Vivian’s tone when talking about her family. Like the little notebook no one wants to open. Heavy like a funeral, like a memorial, like the sudden, crushing reminder of how terrible humankind can be.

 Heavy like its namesake.

 “What room are you looking for?” The comment rips him out of his thoughts. Adrian jumps, turning quickly to the speaker. She’s got Black Family silver eyes, but it takes Adrian a minute to recognize them between the different shape and the darker skin tone. Her black hair is dry and messy, bundled on top of her head. Her green earrings are the only color visible around the grey shroud that qualifies as an Unspeakable Uniform.

 “Entropy, inside the Death Room.”

 She nods, a sort of bobbling movement that reminds Adrian of the teenagers he’s raised. She’s young. “That’s this way, Itzcalli’s in there today.” She starts walking around the large, odd room, and Adrian follows. He’s never been inside this area of the Ministry of Magic, which I forgot to explain, but is a government building hidden under London proper and sprawls beyond physical capabilities. They only got clearance to let him look at bodies from magical cases two years ago, and those few are usually delivered to the muggle building. This is a special case, including a decomposition spell that could only be slowed by bringing the bodies here.

 Adrian noticed as soon as he walked through the door to this department why the spell was halted. The entire room feels like a graveyard, something mournful and heavy that presses upon him. Morgues have a similar feeling, but this is stronger, somehow. It looks like a stone stadium, bigger than his house that slants down to a podium and an archway with a black veil, the thin fabric being blown by wind Adrian can’t properly feel.

 He stays very far away from that one, for more reasons than the overwhelming anxiety that rears in his chest when he looks at it for too long.

 "How do they design the departments?"

 She turns around, walking backwards around the high bench. "It's a circle," she says, gesturing. "So Entropy is the room between Time and Death, and Grief connects me to Love. I have rooms for Thought and Space too, but they don't connect physically. Limerence connects Love and Thought, and Dimension bridges Thought and Space. On the other side is Travel, which connects Space back to Time."

 "There were twelve doors, though?"

 She grins. "And only five of those connect. If Entropy could be accessed straight from the entry, you wouldn't be here." She sounds exceedingly smug.

 Adrian nodded, admitting her point. They reach another pathway up and down the stadium, and the Unspeakable turns upwards. “I’m guessing the other rooms are classified?”

 “Yep. Some of them do loop in here though, and if you take that door-” she points at the next pathway over, directly opposite the door he entered through. “You’ll find yourself in Thought, and the one beside it loops into Space.”

 Adrian huffs exasperatedly. “Magical blueprints must be murder to read.”

 His guide laughs, even as she turns away to enter the right doorway. “Unspeakable Medina,” she calls, still smothering laughter. “Doctor Dunbar is here, from the DMLE.”

 “I’m not actually from the DMLE,” Adrian cuts in a little awkwardly, but the humor from before keeps him going. He has worked with wixen enough to not be exceedingly anxious, but had he not already made a friend he would be much more nervous. Not all wixen are open to working with muggles - it’s a concept that’s caused Regulus much stress, especially as he can’t shadow Adrian everywhere as he can with Vivian.

 ...Not sure if I’ve mentioned it yet, but that’s what non-magical people are called, muggles; they’re generally never told about magic, and less likely to work with it. Of course, being told does not necessarily equate to knowing that magic is real, but that’s a rather large debate for another time.

 Adrian spares a moment to wonder how she knew his name, before remembering that the Ministry gives out name tags to visitors. His today says Dr. Dunbar, DMLE investigation, which is probably why his guide assumed that was where he was from. Sadly, proper Ministry workers don't do the same, so he can't use that to learn her name.

 "Hello." He says, catching up to his friend and waving towards the next witch.

 The Unspeakable looks up from the papers on the dissection table to smile at him. She too is shrouded in grey, but she has bright yellow ribbons tied through her hair and dark brown eyes. Itzcalli Medina is Hispanic, compassionate, and tired. The Death room isn't her usual area of expertise - out of the five 'workshops' in the Department of Mysteries Itzcalli usually works in Love. She, like many Unspeakables, is willing to work with many types of magic, and has worked before with Adrian's guide to find connections between life, love, and those who escape death.

 "Morning," she greets. "You're the muggle contact?"

 "Yes," Adrian says, not missing how his guide's eyes widen as she does a double take. "Adrian Dunbar." She doesn’t seem upset, just curious.

 “Be careful who you give your name to,” she says, tone a little sharp but- she’s not adverse to Adrian being here, she’s worried about him.

 Adrian glances back at her, working through the possible insult to find the advice buried in it, and he smiles wryly. “Telling and giving are different things.”

 Both Unspeakables relax at this. His friend smiles wryly in return, and then turns to Itzcalli. “You don’t need me here, right?”

 “Nah,” Itzcalli shakes her head. “They assigned us Devon for this one.”

 Adrian’s guide makes a face. “Good luck with that.” She steps back and waves lightly. “It was nice meeting you, Doctor Dunbar. See you at lunch, Calli.”

 “You as well.” Adrian waves.

 “You better!” Itzcalli calls after her as she descends the stadium steps again. Itzcalli turns back to Adrian. Merely looking at her exhausted smile makes his body ache, but he’s inordinately excited. Guessing by Itzcalli’s lack of movement, though, he’ll have to wait to start.

 “Which room is hers?” Adrian asks to fill the time.

 Itzcalli hums, following Adrian’s pointing. “She works in the Death Chamber. Her desk is by the veil.” Itzcalli shivers. “I went to pick her up in person once, and it was terrible. Now I just send her a Patronus when I need her.”

 “It is… heavy, around here,” Adrian agrees, looking around the Entropy room.

 Itzcalli smiles without humor. “Death is heavy, Doctor Dunbar.”

 Adrian pretends he believes her without exception. “Of course it is.”

 Itzcalli blows nonexistent hair out of her eyes. “C’mon, we have an extra pair of robes somewhere here that you can use.”

 “I brought scrubs.”

 Itzcalli gives him a look. “I know what those are because I’m muggleborn,” she says steadfastly, “So trust me when I say that Unspeakable robes are way better. For one thing, they absorb curses.”

 “Do you get cursed often around here?”

 Itzcalli laughs, back to him as she walks the length of the combined office-morgue-and-mini-department. “Way more than you think. Most of it comes off objects we’re studying, but there have been inter-department murder attempts.”

 Adrian does a double take. “You’re kidding.”

 “I wish,” Itzcalli says fervently, looking back over her shoulder to make a face. “The aurors can’t even do much about it because the point of Unspeakables is we can only discuss work in the Department.”

 “Is that going to affect me too?”

 Itzcalli pauses, and looks back at him from her position- climbing a wall? He’s not sure what she’s up to. Neither am I, honestly. “Good question. The Unspeakable oaths bind to a magical core, but you don’t have one - unless you do, and it’s just too small to use?” she hums. “I’m going to look into that sometime.” She drops from the ceiling, a silver robe thrown over her arm. “Ta-da! Enchanted against Time Sand, Light and Dark Curses, Compulsions, Portkeys, Blood, and more!”

 Adrian shrugs it on with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

 Itzcalli gives him a searching look. “You’ve dealt with nonhumans before, haven’t you?” Adrian shrugs a vague yes, and Itzcalli drops the subject. “Anyway. Devon’s late, which is a little surprising because he’s a pedantic jerk but then again he’s working with me, so.” She rolls her eyes, but the annoyance is quickly buried under a smile that promises chaos. “Wanna get a headstart on the case?”

 “Sure. Where are the bodies?” Adrian’s grin doesn’t quite match, but he is excited.

 “Right-” Itzcalli spins, the yellow in her hair contrasting the dark decor. She stops for a second to orient in an unusual room, and then points. “this way!” Adrian laughs a little and follows her towards the opposite wall, which now that he looks is made of cold lockers.

 The labels on the lockers are parchment, and the cabinets are some pale stone that steals light. Everything here seems old, and as Adrian reads the tags he sees it’s not just a feeling. “How old is this Department?” Adrian asks, not looking away from the tag. M. E. Warren, 1943. That was before he was born.

 “As old as the Ministry itself.”

 Itzcalli and Adrian jump at the new voice. There’s a man with dark skin, light eyes, and dreadlocks leaning against the doorframe from Time’s side of the room. He has a necklace featuring the rune Dagaz over his robes, the silver only visible because it shines. Lighting in the department comes from enchanted sconces set along the ceiling - considering how large the main Death Chamber is, it's no wonder the lighting matches the atmosphere.

 “Morning, Devon.”

 “Medina,” he returns, his smile obviously fake. Adrian takes a moment to brood about being in the middle of two fighting wixen, and then he shrugs. Adrian’s here for science, and he’ll deal with the people in the middle. He knows Itzcalli isn’t bad, and Devon might not be either.

 "You're the muggle?" Isaac Devon asks, raising an eyebrow.

 "Adrian Dunbar," he offers the name without a hand.

 Devon's smile is slight and hard, but he moves on anyway, pushing off the wall to point out the right locker. "The body's over here."

 Itzcalli is already standing at the locker in question, and she re-

 Okay, seriously? This is important information, but I'm sensing rather a lot of disinterest. Why?

 Oh.

 ...is that the problem? I suppose I did leave you in an emotionally charged moment earlier, but I am trying to get through all the important bits.

 You don’t care. Alright, my apologies. I’ll take you back. We were with Connor, right? Yes, we were. He’s walking through the neighborhood cluster that contains Magnolia Crescent, Privet Drive, and Wisteria Way. And he’s crying, because- well if you forgot why he’s crying I do have to wonder how many of these words you’re actually reading.

 Now, it takes Connor a little while to find a park, turning corners and crossing roads as he tangles himself deeper into the suburban jungle. Despite getting terribly lost, he does find the park, so it’s probably okay.

 Oh, who is he kidding?

  Nothing about this is ‘okay.’

 Connor has heard of his brother, but it’s always been assumed that Hadrian was alive, just somewhere else. He had assumed there was a chance, you know? If he spent enough time in the muggle world, if he asked the right questions, he could see his brother. They could go out for lunch someday. He had never been prepared for this. How could he have?

 Hadrian was sent away for safety reasons - although really they should have kept him longer to ensure he didn’t end up like Caspian - and Connor grew up watching Lily work to ensure he stayed safe, far away from their painfully-in-the-spotlight family. Connor thought Hadrian was safe. He had been told Hadrian was safe.

 How could this have come from that? How could he- do you understand how terrible it is, to hear of the death of someone you could have been close to, without any idea of when you lost that chance? How he died? Why he was killed?

 Although, Connor supposes as he crumples under a large willow, that there is no ‘why’ good enough to justify killing anyone, especially a child. Connor hides his face in his knees, but he can’t disguise his shaking breath. How could his Aunt do that? And then lie, maybe for years?

 How could she live with the guilt? 

 “Hey,” someone says, and the words are accompanied by the sounds of someone sitting down beside him.

 Connor is… really, really not in the mood for strangers today.

 “Are you okay?”

 It’s… not the question Connor expects to be asked, but he accepts it anyway. He doesn’t look up, but he shakes his head.

 “Do you wanna talk about it?”

 To a stranger? No, he doesn’t. Connor shakes his head again.

 “Okay.”

 Beside him is the subject of his thoughts. Harry leans back on his hands, ankles crossed as he gives his companion some quiet company. Ian is happily in a sandbox, and Harry lets his eyes wander to him instead.

 The Magnolia Crescent park is nearly deserted today, so Harry noticed the moment the other kid arrived. Harry hasn't figured out who he’s sitting beside yet, but to be fair neither has Connor.

 What Harry has figured out is that the newcomer is crying, and even if he won't talk about it, Harry has found that most of his resident family enjoys commiseration or someone else telling a story while they cry.

 In his family, it’s usually a story; after a few minutes of commiseration, Harry begins to speak. “Ian’s new too,” he starts, still mostly watching the toddler even as he glances at Connor. He's never seen Connor before, but he knows most of the neighborhood kids by face if not name. “We’re not sure how long he’ll be staying; my aunt was going to look into it today, actually.”

 Connor does look up then, because until now he hadn’t noticed the park’s third occupant. He finds Ian quickly, and then buries his head again.

 “We don’t usually get our hopes up for permanent placements,” Harry explains. “I think we’ve had four, outside of Fay, Cas, and I, since I joined. Although I guess Fay isn’t really a permanent placement, since she’s a bio kid.” He shrugs. “The foster system is a mess of semantics.”

 Connor snorts. He didn’t see any other kids, so he has no idea who his companion is talking about, but most of his attention is drawn by ‘foster system’. This isn’t something Connor knows, considering he’s ten and has never needed that type of knowledge.

 “Foster system?” Connor asks, unknowingly the first words he ever says to his little brother.

 “Yep!” Harry says. “I’ve lived here nearly all my life, but I was in Privet Drive for the first few years, up ‘till I was four. Then someone actually noticed that the aunt and uncle weren’t fit for custody and my other uncle took me in instead. Uncle Reg’s a certified foster parent, which is how he got custody in the first place. Now I live here with him, Cas, and the Dunbars.”

 “Huh,” Connor says, parsing through the information. He still doesn’t know what most of it means. Harry stops talking, sensing Connor’s focus waning. “What do foster parents do?”

 “Foster parents take in other people’s kids, sometimes as part of a family arrangement, and sometimes so that kids with bad families can be somewhere safe. It’s not a perfect system,” Harry looks up at the trees. “But it’s got a good heart.”

 Connor snorts. An imperfect system with a good heart sounds like society, he thinks. 

 “Sounds useful,” he says instead. “How do they find out who has bad families?” The question is pointed, but not because he’s really mad at his companion. He’s wishing someone had used it to save his brother. He hasn’t yet realized they did.

 “Reports of suspicious behaviours,” Harry says. “That’s where it tends to go wrong. The clever ones can fool investigators.”

 Connor hums, and Harry lets silence reign as Connor’s thoughts chase each other around his head. Connor wipes his tears and sets his head on his knees, instead of in them. “Why did you come over here?”

 Harry doesn’t look down, watching leaves move instead. “I don’t like letting people cry alone.”

 It’s a nicer answer than Connor had been expecting. He dreads the day he’ll have to personally deal with good liars; up till now, other children have often admitted eventually that they were sent by parents. “Oh.”

 Harry doesn’t respond.

 Connor looks over and his heart skips a beat. Harry’s marked cheek is on the right side, which is away from Connor, but the resemblance is there anyway, especially because Connor has been thinking about it recently. “What’s your name?” he asks, not noticing how his voice has gone light and teary suddenly.

 Harry’s head snaps over at the tone change, and Connor gets to watch as Harry recognizes him in return. Harry’s eyes, a dark green that doesn’t match their mother’s but could have once, widen, and he blinks once.

 “Harry Potter,” Harry says, composure slipping. “Er- Hadrian; both are true. You’re-?”

 “Connor,” Connor says.

 They take a moment, both of them, to examine the other and compare to themselves. Harry’s hair is longer, but it’s tied into a bun that reminds Connor of someone from his dad’s school photos. Connor’s is short and wild, not an afro but something of the same effect. They each got one parent’s eyes. Connor finds his eyes drawn again to the lightning scar, the one he’s only seen once, in a final family photo before they split. He thought it was black from infection then. It’s still black though, so he assumes his hypothesis was wrong.

 “Your scar never healed,” Connor finds himself saying absently, reaching up until his fingers nearly brush it. He doesn't, though, too scared he'll vanish the apparition.

 “Neither did yours,” Harry responds, staring at the oddly pink mark. He doesn't reach out. This isn’t quite as weird for him as it is for Connor, because Harry occasionally reads the newspapers, and Connor has occasionally been in them.

 “Curse marks don’t,” Connor shrugs. “I-” he gestures helplessly, chest tight even as the rest of him feels oddly floaty. “I thought yours would have.”

 Harry shrugs in return, a little awkwardly but his voice is falsely casual when he speaks. “Some things just have to leave a mark, I guess.”

 The twins are quiet, eyes intent.

 "How are you here?" Connor asks, in the same breath Harry begins.

 "What are you doing here?"

 "You first," Connor says.

 Harry acquiesces. "Like I said, I live here. Why are you here?"

 Connor is quiet, feeling his heart climb up into his throat at the reminder.

 "Connor?" Harry asks, picking up on the sudden dropping mood.

 Connor searches Harry's face again, a little desperately, and then he closes his eyes, because he can't say this to Harry's face. "We came to visit my aunt," Connor says, trying to line up the facts in front of him. It doesn’t work. "Mum and I were supposed to pick up my little brother."

 Harry watches the pain on Connor's face and hides a wince. "Did they say he didn't want to come with you?"

 "No. They said he's dead."

 "Petunia said what?" He spits, and Connor jolts, eyes snapping open, because the vitriol is so removed from the tranquil atmosphere that it sets his heart racing again.

 He watches his enraged brother, and thinks of the row from earlier. He swallows. "I don't think she meant to tell mum. She sort of yelled it as they were fighting."

 Harry buries his face in his hands. "Oh, I despise her."

 Connor watches. Things are, again, not adding up. Or… not again. They have yet to make sense to Connor. "How are you not dead?"

 Harry peeks around his fingers, unwilling to spit out the entire story; "It's… a long story."

 "Sounds like our lives," Connor says with a snort.

 Harry has to agree to that. It really does. "Do you know what resuscitation is?"

 "No," Connor admits. He feels a bit like an idiot, having to ask so many questions, even though he shouldn't. Growing up is about learning the world, and he and Harry grew up differently.

 "When a heart stops, or a person dies, it's possible to restart the heart if someone does it right. And if you keep blood flowing, then there's not as much damage when the healers actually wake them up. At least, that's how it was explained to me. Not sure what gets damaged, because you still have to heal, but-" Harry shrugs, dropping his hands from their earlier gesticulating.

 "They can just- bring you back to life?"

 "Yes but no? It only works if you do it right away."

 Connor hums. "Someone brought you back."

 "I came back," Harry confirms. "Any other questions?"

 Connor stares hungrily instead of answering. He can't think of any right now, but he feels a question bubbling under his ribs, more than one maybe, unformed but yearning.

 Harry lets him, but his own focus is on how improbable this is. He had… planned, in a sense, how he was going to go about dealing with the issue of having a twin brother when they met at Hogwarts, with differing plans based on their house layouts.

 This meeting nicely crashes through those plans, chews up the rubble, and makes soup.

 And that is assuming this isn't a particularly creative and clever plot to kidnap him or get information, but Harry is ten and doesn't think that highly of himself.

 "Not yet," Connor finally admits.

 "Ri!" Ian shrieks, making his presence known again in the sandbox. "House!"

 Harry glances away from Connor to see what Ian means. He shifts, and smiles when he notices the mounds. "It's a very nice house, Ian."

 Ian grins and goes back to building.

 “Who’s that?” Connor asks.

 “Ian,” Harry answers. “He’s been here two days.”

 Connor hums.

 The silence stretches, and Connor hates it. Harry can’t see his discomfort, but he can tell anyway. He prepares to stand and kill it, but Connor speaks first.

 “How did you-“ He sighs, looking at the sky. “Are you sure you’re okay? She can’t hurt you again?” She can’t kill you again, Connor doesn’t say.

 “Yes,” Harry promises, settling down and threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Never again.”

 Connor watches, and then nods. “Good.”

 Harry smiles weakly, but this conversation makes him uncomfortable and now that he has his brother he wants to think of something else.

 Connor eyes him as he falls silent, and kind of wants to pry, but this is the first time he remembers meeting his brother, ever, and he knows most people don’t spill their guts right away. He’s not going to mention his random childhood coma or other drama, and he’s not even sure he wants to hear the story behind Harry’s short death. It’s terrifying enough as a concept.

 The silence reigns until Harry comes up with a question, random as it is. “This is weird. How do I know you’re even the real Connor Potter?”

 Connor snorts, because while many people have asked in awe if he was ‘really Connor Potter?!’ they’ve never needed confirmation. The scar on his forehead has always been enough. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 Harry doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have a set caper that would require this, and he doesn’t feel like it’s needed, either. Harry shrugs instead, because he already said it. “I’ll figure it out,” he says languidly.

 Connor raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And how do I know you’re the real Hadrian Potter?” He… hasn’t considered this possibility yet, but since Harry suggested it, Connor feels paranoia clinging to his skull.

 Harry shrugs. “I’m alive?” Connor snorts, but he quiets down quickly. Harry looks at him, concern and worry climbing his chest. He meant it as a joke, something instinctual that brought livelihood back to their dead conversation. Not to actually worry Connor. “Here,” he pulls his library card out of his pocket. “I haven’t kept my school IDs with me,” he admits, “But it counts, I think.”

 Connor looks at the card like he doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t, for a moment, and then Connor recognizes enough pieces of the design to realize what it is. “Oh! I don’t have mine,” Connor admits. “We don’t go often.”

 “I go all the time.”

 “Cool.” Connor shrugs. “Is there a good one around here?”

 “Yeah,” Harry says. “There’s not a true magical section, but it’s got a lot of good fantasy-fiction.”

 “Cool.”

 "What's your favorite book?" Harry asks before the awkwardness can take over.

 Connor stops to think. "I'd go with the Big Friendly Giant, probably. Yours?"

 "Alice In Wonderland by Lewis Caroll."

 Connor squints. "Isn't that an adult book?"

 Harry snorts, but he acquiesces too. "I needed help reading it the first few times," he admits. "But I know what most of the words mean now, and it's a fantastic universe. Lots of wordplay."

 “Yeah? Like what?”

 And then Harry is smiling, excitement unhindered, as he explains his favorite parts and the metaphors that took him the longest to get. Connor watches, and he thinks honestly that this is what Ron means when he talks about Ginny's love for espionage. It's something Ron and Connor are terrible at (they've tried), but it makes her happy. Connor's been in such situations a few times, watching as the Weasleys or Neville start talking about things he doesn't understand or follow but they're passionate about.

 This is four times better.

 "I think it would be fun to make an amusement park themed after it," Harry says, winding down. "Or just enchant a teakettle or something for smoke signals."

 "The shrinking and growth potions sound fun," Connor says. "We could sneak around mouseholes." Ginny would love it, he thinks. And Fred and George should never be allowed to touch it. The Yellow and Blue duo are menaces.

 "Or snake dens," Harry grins. Somewhere to their left doors slam and someone starts yelling about not being late. Harry looks over.

 Connor knows this won't last, but he wants it to. He watches Harry's awareness shift and mourns it, just a little. "You like snakes?" He asks, just to draw Harry back.

 "Yes!"

 Connor grins. "Me too. Dad took me to meet an Occamy once, she was the rudest snake I'd ever met, but her feathers were so pretty! Not quite the color of the sky, more of a green-blue gemstone, or pool water."

 "Whoah."

 Connor grins, both at the reaction and the memory. "What's your favorite snake?"

 "Mostly I know garters, but there was a random cobra who'd come to hang out a few years ago. I'm not sure what happened to her."

 Connor flops backwards, turning to look at Ian. The toddler looks nothing like him or Harry. What had Harry said earlier? Foster care?

 "Who do you live with now?" 

 Harry looks over, but stays sitting up. "Uncle Regulus, Aunt Vivian, and Uncle Adrian."

 Connor… has no idea who any of those are. He tries to place the tree he's under instead. "You mentioned kids too, earlier?" It’s not an aspen, but it could be oak or willow.

 "Yeah, there's also Fay and Caspian. And Ian, now."

 Connor blinks, and then snorts. “Okay so,” he holds up his hand to count them out. “Your name is Hadrian, his name is Ian, and you live with people named Caspian, Vivian, and Adrian?”

 “Yes,” Harry says around a laugh at Connor’s tone.

 Connor actually laughs then. He loves this. The apprehension from earlier has long since vanished, he's comfy, and he's learning about his brother. “Was the matching on purpose?”

 “I don’t think so,” Harry grins. “They didn’t name Fay Favian.”

 Connor snorts. “Is Fay a nickname?”

 “Short for Faith."

 He nods. “I wonder if there are any nicknames for Connor?”

 “Lily and James only call you Connor?”

 “Not even close,” Connor shakes his head. “But none of their nicknames are short for my name.”

 “What nicknames do they use?”

 “Sweetheart, Bucktooth,” Connor pauses before adding the last one. "Sometimes Their Little Immortal." There are others, but even out of the ones in the vein, perhaps especially from their number, few stick.

 Contrary to his worries, Harry laughs. "Cute."

 "What about you? Any embarrassing nicknames?"

 "None of your nicknames are embarrassing."

 "Bucktooth is terribly embarrassing," Connor corrects him, opening his mouth to show off his teeth. It's embarrassing in a good way, though. "What do they call you?"

 "Harry, mostly. Aunt Vivian is Viv, Adrian is Rian, we call Caspian Cas, you know Fay’s, and then there’s Uncle Reg.” Harry shrugs. “Otherwise they’re all jokes like Casper or Changeling.” He’s leaving out the ones he doesn’t like. Squirtle is the first to come to mind. Later there will be Hades.

 “Changeling?”

 “Legend says the fae used to steal human babies and leave other fae in their place.”

 “Creepy,” Connor says bluntly. Harry shrugs.

 “It’s not too bad if they steal from the right house.”

 Connor frowns up at him, but doesn't contest it. The way Harry said it… There was something there Connor doesn’t get yet, and he isn’t going to start an argument he’ll lose.

 “Think Con would work as a nickname?”

 Connor shrugs. “Why not? It does the job.”

  “You’re discussing names without me?”

 Connor jumps as the snake appears in the grass beside his head. Harry doesn’t. Connor smiles slightly and greets her at the same time Harry does.

 She raises her head to greet them in return. “Hello, Greater-Death-Cheater-” Harry makes a face at the title. Connor wonders why- it’s fitting, which makes it a good one. “Who is your companion?”

  “This is my clutchmate, Connor.”

 “No proper name yet?”

 “Actually yes,” Connor says, looking at the little boa. He shifts so he can sit up. “I’m Night-Dandelion.”

 Harry giggles. Connor shoves him blindly, which doesn't stop the laughter.

 The brown snake seems to judge the name, before doing an approximation of a shrug. “There’s been worse.”  

 Harry buries his head in his hands. “Please don’t insult him."

 “What’s your name?” Connor asks before he can explode from the emotional flux his little brother defending him causes.

 The snake puffs up. “It is under deliberation and has yet to be picked,” she says, as sagely as a baby boa constrictor can be. She turns to Harry. “If your clutchmate and nestmates are half speakers, why do Sun-Human-Nestfather, Unhatched-Mother, and Night-Mist not speak as well?”

 “I have no idea.”

 “Mum and dad are speakers too,” Connor says. “It's fun when we’re out, dad will make fun of people, and mum and I see who can go the longest without laughing.”

 Harry grins sideways at him. “Have you been caught?” 

 Parseltongue is weird in Harry’s family. He hadn't considered whether or not his blood relations would share the skill. Fay and Regulus do, although he can't remember if Caspian can too. Caspian’s skills are unreliable.

 “A couple times,” Connor admits sheepishly. “Still fun though.”

 "Did you bring your book?" The snake asks, cavalierly changing the subject. The twins let it happen.

 Harry shakes his head. "I did, but I'm not reading right now."

 "Your book?" Connor asks.

 "Speaker-who-reads."

 "I read to them," Harry explains, because as nice as the boa is, titles don’t explain everything.

 "Why?"

 "It's a good way to practice, and it's fun. Plus, snakes are a bit like kids. They're funner to talk to when you know what they're talking about or have a topic in common."

 Connor 'huh's. He's never thought about that. "I thought snakes were inherently smart."

  "We are," the boa says, flicking her tail imperiously. Harry squints, wondering if she's the cobra reincarnated. It's an eerily reminiscent gesture. "But even smart creatures can learn better, night-flower."

 "...not… my name," Connor says, but he doesn't expect it to make a difference. Snakes can be stubborn.

 "Coin?"

 Connor blinks at Harry. Did he miss something? "What?"

 "Still trying to think of nicknames," Harry explains. "Not a good one?"

 "No idea," Connor says. Harry looks at Ian again. Ian's still in the sandbox, though now he's laying down.

 "Is he making sand angels?"

 "What's a sand angel?"

 "Snow angel but sand."

 Connor doesn’t recognize that phrase either, so he assumes it’s a muggle thing. Godric’s Hollow is a mixed community in name only; this muggle neighborhood is more inclusively mixed than Godric’s Hollow. There have been enough incidents without obliviators visiting that everyone here knows about magic to some degree - and technically, Regulus hasn’t broken the Statute of Secrecy. Loopholes are a clever man’s best friend.

 Godric’s Hollow just hides magicals among the muggles, giving the impression that there’s a bunch of Elitists trying (and failing, depending on who you ask) to rough it. The separation is noticeable, and honestly a little pitiful. There’s keeping a secret, and then there’s segregation.

 I find one more tolerable than the other.

 Connor pushes himself up, deciding to go see. He’s learning loads on this expedition to the muggle world, wizarding home nearby or not. “Can we go see?”

 "Sure," Harry agrees, moving to stand up too. They head over, and yeah, Ian’s waving his arms and legs in the sand. Harry smiles, and it is still the best thing Connor’s seen. He thought he’d seen it all when Harry was talking about Alice in Wonderland, and he was wrong. “You having fun?” He asks, leaning over Ian’s head. He looks so proud, so fond, that Connor finds himself mirroring the expression.

 “Yeah!” Ian calls happily. “Join!”

 Harry looks at the sandbox, which is… really just the entire playground box. “Alright.” He sits down and looks up, pausing for a moment to just look at his brother, who’s looking at him like he hung the sun. “You coming?” It makes something in his chest tighten because he hasn’t done anything to deserve that look, but at the same time- Harry’s not happy that he had no chance to plan, but he is very happy he got to meet Connor.

 Connor looks down at his brother, who has yellow sand peppering his dark hair already, and shrugs. “Sure.” He doesn’t flop bonelessly like Harry did, instead sitting down gingerly. The smile falls from his face as he does. He’s not a fan of sand. It’s itchy.

 It’s even later when Harry poses his next question- well, not his next one. Children are fickle and their minds wander, but this is perhaps the next one whose answer I deem important. “…Newspapers say you still live in Godric’s Hollow?”

 “Yeah.” Connor hums. There are clouds moving quickly across the sky, but Connor can’t feel a breeze. “Do you… remember?” The question is hesitant, low.

 “Not that one,” Harry says without missing a beat. Despite his speed, he matches the mood. “You?”

 “Not much.” Connor shakes his head and then regrets it. Sand is gross, and now it’s all over his neck and in his hair. He remembers a lot, considering he was younger than two. “Lots of lights.”

 Harry closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t remember that day. He doesn’t remember the attack on Potter Cottage. He remembers other injuries, he remembers Number 4, Number 10, and Number 8. He remembers an aching neck, a pinched back, and a searing shoulder. He doesn’t remember the bright lights Connor does.

 Connor doesn’t respond for a few minutes. “This is so weird.”

 “Which part?”

 “I’m meeting you!” Connor throws his hands up, eyes bright. They flop back into his sand angel’s sleeves a moment later. “I always thought… it wouldn’t happen until I was an adult.”

 “Oh,” Harry says. “I forgot… you thought I was a squib, right?”

 “Yeah,” Connor agrees. “Were you planning on meeting me?”

 “Yeah,” Harry looks over at his big brother, a tendril of apprehension building but he stamps it down. They’ve done great so far. “I wasn’t sure if you knew I existed. We’d talked about a couple different ways you could react.”

 Connor hums. He hates it when he does that, imagines all the ways something could go right and then all the ways they could go wrong. It’s annoying and usually only manages to upset him. It’s why he tries to listen to his impulses first. “I’m glad we met.” Connor doesn’t think the words say enough.

 “Me too.”

 Harry’s words don’t seem to either, but Connor can hope. He keeps his face seeking the sun, but glances sidelong at Harry. Harry’s looking at him, expression almost as fond as when he talks to Ian, even if there’s more hope than assurance. This is okay, he decides. This is better than okay, really, it’s good. Connor looks back at the clouds and breathes, feeling the knot of emotions in his chest slide over each other and loosen.

 This is good. He’s okay. Harry’s okay, too, which is so much better than Connor expected a few hours ago. Lily will come find him, and he can explain, and they can meet the foster parents, and Connor will have a brother again.

 He doesn’t remember the first time, no, but this was just like making a friend, and he knows he’s okay with that, wants it even.

[sadbicth]

israel posted a video of them giving water bottles to palestinians on a beach, then destroyed their luggage and shot at them after they stopped recording.

israel posted a photo of one of their soldiers "assisting" with an elderly man, then they shot him twice in the back and killed him.

in 2015, the idf posted pr photos of an israeli soldier giving water to an elderly palestinian woman, only for them to execute her after the photo was taken.

in 2005, an idf soldier emptied his rifle into a 13-year-old palestinian schoolgirl. he said he would have done the same thing if she was 3-years-old. he was acquitted of all charged.

israel claimed that hamas beheaded 40 israeli babies and then a month later cut off power to a palestinian hospital where premature babies were on incubators.

israel bombed a group of children collecting rainwater.

israel shot and killed two palestinian children playing with their scooter.

israel shot a hard of hearing girl in the face with a stun grenade and broke her jaw.

israel is using bombs with blades that are designed to cause maximum damage to the person in range.

israel forced medical workers at al-Nasr medical center to leave babies in incubators in order to evacuate the hospital they were bombing.

israel turned off power to hospitals in palestine, forcing nurses and doctors to use their phone flashlights when treating patients.

israel raised their flag over Al Shifa hospital.

israel has blown up the chambers of the palestinian legislative council.

israel targeted a "suspicious vehicle containing several terrorists”, meanwhile the only people in the car were three girls, ages 10, 12, and 14, their grandmother, and their mother. the only survivor was the three girls' mother.

israel planted a copy of mein kampf in a children's bedroom in a gazan house they claim hamas was hiding in.

israel poured fake blood onto the floor of an israeli child's bedroom and claimed hamas killed them.

israeli soldiers posted a video of them dancing on gazan graves.

israel posted a video showing a calendar in a palestinian children's hospital was a hamas guard list because it was written in arabic.

israel was using white phosphorus on hospitals.

israel bombed a refugee camp.

israel has burned olive trees in palestine.

israel has put cement into the water supply of palestine.

israel claimed that they found tunnels under Al Shifa hospital, only for it to be exposed that those tunnels are actually in sweden.

israel built a bunker and command room under Al Shifa hospital in 1983, only for them to now say that they are hamas tunnels.

israeli police arrested an israeli high school teacher, who posted on facebook expressing sympathy with palestinian civilians who have been killed.

israeli soldiers filmed themselves throwing a stun grenade into a palestinian mosque.

we are witnessing a genocide in real time framed under the guise of stopping hamas. israel has been terrorizing palestine for as long as israel has existed, but their access to technology and social media has made it much easier to fool people into supporting them.

meanwhile, noah schnapp is posting that zionism is sexy and celebrities are standing with israel. just absolutely twisted shit.

edit: for those who would like sources, my twitter is alliiesmith. i have retweeted everything i’ve mentioned. i apologize for not providing this sooner

edit 2: i’ve had some people in the replies and reposts pointing out that linking my twitter seems like promotion. i just wanted to clear up that that was not my intention. i’ve been retweeting resources and news much faster than i’m able to add to this post, and i thought that my twitter profile could be something of a hub for information. i don’t care if you follow me, but i think scrolling through and seeing what i’ve retweeted could be helpful.

[sailorrhansol]

hi! long time reader, first time submit-er :) could i request a dilf!wonwoo fic where you’re trying to get your kids out the door to trick or treat with a friend or a family member because you and wonwoo have a halloween party and you get self conscious that you don’t look hot enough in your costume but wonwoo disagrees? very fluffy, maybe even smutty if that works for you hehe

Pairing: Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader 

Summary: For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing. 

Word Count: 2,278

Genre: Slice of Life, Married Couple/Parents

Type: Smut, Fluff

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Light mentions of anxiety regarding letting kids go trick-or-treating without them, slight body insecurity and light mentions of a skirt not fitting comfortably, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, spitting, hair pulling, stupid and corny during sex. 

A/N: Hey so anyway I’m not even that big of a fan of dilf-teen or parent-fic but here we are and I am ACTUALLY VERY INTERESTED IN DAD WONWOO NOW. SO THIS IS NOW YOUR FAULT THAT I’M THINKING ABOUT IT. Also the visual of Jihoon with a kid on his shoulders sent me into an early grave. 

A/N 2: PLEASE THE BANNER IS NERDY BUT THEY’RE DRESSED AS COWBOYS OK LMFAO

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

“Soonyoung, her crown!” You warn, watching as your friend smacks the plastic crown off Haen’s head. She doesn’t seem to notice, too busy digging her greedy little hands in the pocket of his tiger onesie where she knows she’ll find candy. “Are you sure you can do this?” 

Soonyoung scoffs. His outrage is lessened by the ridiculous tiger onesie he’s in, the suit zipped to the neck and the hood pulled up over his head. He’s got Iseul in his arms, cradling her in her dragon costume as she pulls on his hood while Haen reveals a Jolly Rancher. 

“Maybe we-”

Wonwoo’s hand on your lower back cuts you off as he steps through the door frame. He pitches his voice low and gentle as he crouches down, eye level with your eldest child. “Hey, no candy until after. We agreed, remember?” 

Pouting, she shoves the candy back inside Soonyoung’s pocket. Behind him, Jihoon and Jeonghan snort. “Yes, daddy. Sorry, I excited.” 

Mouth pressed firmly to hide your smile, you feel the overwhelming sense of love for her as she puts her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for Soonyoung to escort her down the steps and sidewalk to go trick-or-treating. 

“We’ll be fine,” Soonyoung assures, pouting as he takes Haen’s hand and spins around. Your other friends hold out the empty buckets made to be filled with candy. “We promised we had them, and we do!”

Wonwoo stands, hand sliding up your back as he does. “You remember where the key is?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder. He passes Iseul to Jeonghan, who holds her far less precariously. “We’ll let you know when we’re back. Go out on the town or whatever it is parents with no kids do.” 

Children and parents line the streets. You watch your little group of friends with your two kids meander down the sidewalk, Jihoon immediately lifting Haeun to put her on his shoulders. Nerves eat away at you as they finally vanish from your line of vision, lost to the other swarms of trick-or-treaters and bobbing halloween lights hanging from trees. 

“Maybe we should-”

“Nope,” Wonwoo says gently, pulling you toward him. “They’ll do fine. Jihoon is with them, what could go wrong?”

Blowing out a sigh you nod, taking a moment to just drink him in. As much as he hates dressing up on Halloween, he’s done it again this year for you, dressed in the exact cowboy costume that you had put together for him. It’s less a costume than it is precariously picked clothes - the tan, suede button up and brown leather pants had already been in his closet, along with the belt and bolo tie. You’d just purchased the hat and the boots to complete the look.

And it is a look.

Wonwoo has always had the annoying ability to look good in whatever he wears. It doesn’t matter if he’s sitting on the couch in a shirt with juice stains from Iseul spilling her apple juice all over him or if he’s in a pressed suit at a company holiday party - he looks good in everything. 

Heading back inside, you catch yourself in the mirror near the entrance, tugging at your skirt a little. It’s a little higher and tighter than you remember, and the button digs into your stomach a bit more than you like. Chewing your lip, you quickly turn from the mirror, busying yourself in the kitchen looking for your car keys and purse.

Wonwoo follows you silently, leaning against the door frame as he watches you. His eyes are heavy on you, your stomach fluttering as you drop a credit card onto the floor. Cursing, you bend down to get it, feeling the skirt hug you tightly and restrict your movement for a second. 

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, pushing off the wall.

“No, no,” you manage to peel it off the tile. “This damn skirt is so much tighter than it used to be. God.” Standing up again, you shove your card into the wallet, not meeting his eyes as he drifts toward you. “Maybe I should change.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know.”

“I think it looks fucking fantastic.” You roll your eyes, looking at him with a deadpan stare. His mouth twitches a little as he drops his gaze to the jean skirt in question. “You look fucking hot.” 

“We’re married. You have to say that.”

“Weird. I don’t remember that being in our vows.” 

“It definitely was.” You fiddle with the zipper on your wallet, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I think it was right after in sickness. It said and always tell your wife she’s hot.” 

His laugh is throaty and he reaches for you. You let him, his hands soft as he pulls you toward him by the waist. He smells like spicy cologne and something that is distinctly Wonwoo. Instead of looking up to meet his gaze, you focus on the pocket of his shirt, lifting your hands to fidget with it and press it flat.

“Baby,” he murmurs. You still don’t look up at him, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I really like the skirt, but you can wear whatever you want.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm. It makes your legs look good. Not to mention…” One hand drifts from your hip to your ass, squeezing generously. Your breath catches and your eyes flick up to meet his. They’re dark, a playful edge to his gaze that you’re intimately familiar with. “You look good in everything to me.” 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he imitates. Wonwoo’s fingers skim the edge of the skirt, brushing across your thighs. You shiver, clinging to him a little as your eyes flutter shut at the contact. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he says, “Want me to help you out of it?” 

The two of you have been together for nine years, married for six. You know every part of your best friend turned boyfriend turned husband. There is no corner of his heart he has left unturned to you, no thought that you cannot complete, no words he can speak that you don’t already know.

So when he asks if you want him to help you out of it you know what he’s asking you. He isn’t saying he’ll help you out and to pick out a new skirt. He isn’t asking you to change it. He doesn’t even want you to put the skirt back on, if his hungry gaze and the low pitch of his voice tells you anything. 

“I thought you wanted to go to the halloween party.”

His laugh comes out in a huff. “I’d like to get you out of that skirt more.” 

Wonwoo’s fingers curl around the edge of your skirt, a question. “Please.” 

Wonwoo has never denied you anything, and he doesn’t now. He spins you against the counter so that your hips are pressed to it, your back to his chest. He sinks his hands down your front, fingers deftly undoing the button. His hot breath is on your neck, his lips barely skimming your skin in an almost-kiss. 

Button popped, Wonwoo pulls the material open. Instead of rolling it down at the waist, his hand snakes into your skirt, pressing against your underwear as his mouth connects with your throat. You let out a breathy noise, melting in his arms as he presses his fingers to your clit over the silk of your underwear. 

“Oh,” you breath, going slack against him. He doesn’t mind, pinning you between him and the counter as he circles his fingers teasingly. He keeps his mouth busy, pressing wet kisses up your throat and toward your jaw. “Thought you wanted me out of it.” 

“I will,” he promises, nipping your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. The lower pit of your stomach burns with desire, sparking at his lazy touch. “Just wanted to touch first.”

“Slow ain’t your thing, cowboy?” 

“Nah, I’ve got a pretty thing that wants to take a ride.” 

Your laugh is cut off by a hiss, your head falling forward, as Wonwoo glides a finger down to press at your entrance. You feel your muscles clench, your stomach lurching as he teases you. A hand shoots to his wrist and you dig your fingers in, nails biting. 

“Be nice,” you warn sternly. 

“Mmm. You’re using your mommy voice.” 

“I wouldn’t have to if daddy was being nice.”

“Daddy says he’ll make up for it.” 

Daddy does. He always does. Wonwoo loves to tease you and make you beg for it, but he doesn’t now, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he can stroke your pussy in full. He moans at the wetness he finds, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch as he works his hand between your legs. 

Wonwoo’s fingers are deft and skillful, applying just the right pressure and stimulation to work you up. Your breath becomes stilted, feeling the ripples of pleasure as he gets you where he wants you. Pinned between him and the counter, you can’t move. Can’t squirm. Can’t buck your hands to meet his strokes when he sinks a finger into your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, pressing a messy kiss to your shoulder. “Like fucking silk.”

Heat creeps up your neck. You feel breathless under his attention, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit as Wonwoo leisurely fucks you with his finger, dragging it out only to slide up to your clit, circling gently. 

Your fingers dig into him as Wonwoo strings you along, enjoying the way your sounds turn airy and weak. He plays you perfectly, working you up until you feel your thighs twitching, eyes shut as you let him steer you toward your peak.

Wonwoo pulls his hand from your skirt, making you eyes fly open, mouth hanging open. Turning to yell at him over your shoulder, your words are lost as he drops to his knees, fingers yanking your skirt as he goes.

Cool air hits your legs as he taps your ankle, asking you to step out of the skirt. You do and he rewards you with a gentle kiss on the back of your thigh, his hands skimming up your legs. You feel the coolness wear his wet fingers leave a slick trail on your skin. 

Leaning forward, he plans another gentle kiss on the curve of your ass, making you laugh. He hums pleasantly, hands warm and explorative. He presses the small of your back gently, making you lean onto the counter, ass out. 

Delicately, he peels your underwear from your hips, tossing them somewhere else. His hands return to your legs, pressing gently to pry your thighs apart. He groans at your messy cunt, no doubt proud of his work. 

The marble countertop is freezing cold, ground you as you rest your cheek on it. You feel your chest heavy, holding your breath for a moment when Wonwoo leans forward and dips his tongue between your folds tentatively. 

“Soonyoung should take the kids more often,” Wonwoo notes, breath hitting you between the legs. You make a strangled sound, distracted by the way his fingers squeeze your thighs, digging into the meat of them. His tongue dips back in, dragging upward again. “Want to do this more.” 

“You - fuck - did this last night.” 

“Not with you bent over the counter and this pretty ass in my face.” His hand smacks your ass lightly, making you squeal. He laughs deep in his throat, a little bit of a groan as he mutters, “Exactly.” 

Wonwoo stops talking, mouth busy as he fastens his lips to your heat, sucking gently. He drives you insane, losing yourself in the way his tongue circles gently around your bundle of nerves. He alternates between tongue and lips, a shattering combination of heaven and hell as he works you toward an orgasm. 

His mouth isn’t the reason you fell in love with him, but as you start breaking apart, you think it might be a solid entry on the list of reasons. You reach back with one hand, knocking the hat off his head to tangle your fingers in his hair. He grunts, appreciative as he gives a particularly greedy suck, making your toes curl. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking away for a second. His fingers peel you open and you moan when you feel him spit against your hole, clenching around nothing. “Who needs candy when I have the sweetest thing right here?”

“Wonwoo.” 

“You even melt in my mouth.”

“Wonwoo.”

He chuckles. “Yeah baby, I know.”

He always knows. He attaches his mouth back to you, slick and messy and loud as he works you to your orgasm. Your nails dig against his scalp - he doesn’t care. He lets you tug him further in, happy to press his face as close to your heat as possible. 

You press back into him, muscle clenching. You burst like a bubble, completely coming undone under his mouth as you come against him, face pressed to the counter. He pushes you through it, not letting you escape him when you try and wiggle away, tongue hot and hungry until you’re begging him to let up. 

Wonwoo pulls away, breathing heavily. His hands skate up and down your legs and suddenly you’re grateful your weight is all on the countertop, thighs totally useless. 

“God damn,” you pants, eyes shut.

“Yeah,” he agrees and stands. You feel him crowd you in, touch seeking your hips. “Catch your breath, partner. You still got a ride to go on.” 

-

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[mcflymemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

it's been my experience when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.

i sleep in the nude.

about time someone hit him. i'm sorry it wasn't me.

i didn't say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing.

i came down the chimney. ho ho ho.

we've done a lot of things we're not proud of. robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking... but nobody got hurt.

maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we knew.

will you look at the size of this? it's gotta be half a mile high at least.

our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.

you're so skinny, if you turned sideways and stuck out your tongue, you'd look like a zipper.

hey look, i made a bridge.

as far as me goes, i just like to blow things up.

come on. tell the kid the truth.

does it match my dress?

it was like a sign from god.

i got your four basic food groups: beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard.

you have disturbed the dirt.

what have you done?

if you give back every stolen artifact from a museum, you'd be left with an empty building.

i gotta admit, i'm disappointed.

you ask too many questions!

who are you? who sent you?

do not be such a crybaby.

now tell me your story, my little friend.

trust me on this one. you don't wanna know.

if you're looking for the pony rides, they're back there.

what else have you got in there?

forget your jammies, [name]?

you're gonna want a pair of these.

i think we've seen how effective my decisions have been.

have i left anything out?

you did set the camp on fire and drop us down that big hole.

i took this job when my dad retired.

you are a scholar, are you not?

who told you that?

let's go over it again, just so we got it straight.

we're all gonna die.

someone needs to talk to that girl.

for the good of the mission, i will go!

tonight's supper will be baked beans. musical program to follow.

hey, i had nothing to do with it.

i'll have to quit my job.

you didn't just drink that, did you?

don't move, don't breathe, don't do anything...

carrots? why it it always carrots?

with something like that, i would have white wine.

we can't let him do this!

okay, now you can go.

how was my accent?

we are not thriving.

where are you going?

don't take no for an answer.

look, i have some questions for you, and i'm not leaving this city until they're answered.

somebody's gonna have to suck out this poison.

i thought you said he only had guns!

mercenary? i prefer the term "adventure capitalist."

do you wanna do my job? be my guest.

i'm gonna need you to fill these up.

thank god i lost my sense of taste years ago.

why don't you translate, and i'll wave the gun around.

this was not part of the plan.

you do swim, do you not?

your heart has softened.

you would have slain them on sight.

what they have to teach us, we have already learned.

something wrong with your neck?

so i guess this is how it ends? fine. you win.

get back! i've got soap, and i'm not afraid to use it!

look at all those tattoos!

i've got a bone to pick with you.

any last words?

i really wish i had a better idea than this.

i know i'm forgetting something.

you're the one who got us here.

you must've read it a dozen times by now.

sometimes i get a little carried away.

all will be well. be not afraid.

i hate fishing. i hate fish. hate the taste, hate the smell, hate all them little bones.

you will not regret this!

hard to believe he's still single.

can you drive a truck?

no time like the present.

i love it when we win.

you pick now of all times to grow a conscience?

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Part Two!!! If you haven’t read part one yet, go here. You’ll need to read it to understand this and the series. Hope everyone likes!❤️

_______________________________________________

Y/N had gone to work and Dean was lounging in their living room, finishing off Y/N’s beer as he flipped through channels on the TV set. Dean let out a content, “Ahhh” as he clicked the remote, landing on a news station. “And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424” The newscaster said.

Dean’s heart dropped, his eyes widening as he leaned forward, instantly recognizing the flight by name. “Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the victims” Dean could feel his fear growing, “No no no. We stopped that crash” His mind going back to that day they had to exorcise a demon on a plane.

-

Dean was now in front of Y/N’s laptop, running his hand over his face as he stared, eyewide at the headline on the article. ‘Flight 424 Crashes. 108 dead’ the headline read. He began skimming the internet for all their previous hunts within the past two years, the words ‘nine children comatose’, ‘parents mutilated’, ‘girl drowns in hotel pool’ rang through his head.

Dean felt sick to his stomach as he read about all the people they saved over the years were now gone, as if all what they did was for nothing. This reality was too much for him, he desperately wanted a normal life but seeing this…it didn't sit right with him.

At the corner of his eye, Dean saw the figure of a woman drift in the hallway. His eyes snapped up to see no one there, he knew it couldn't be Y/N. He knows her figure like the back of his hand, so immediately he got up and rushed into the room. The seemingly empty room.

Dean heard something move in the closet, his head snapping in the direction. He attempted to reach for his gun he keeps in the back of his jeans, only to pat air. Forgetting that he's a civilian and not a hunter. The instinct came naturally. Dean then swiftly opened the door to see the skeletal remains of a man and a woman, hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

Dean stared at it in shock and fear, before he could do anything, he sensed a presence behind him. He quickly turned around to see the young girl he saw outside the college and in the restaurant, a bleeding wound was prominent on her forehead. Her spirit then diminished out of sight. Leaving Dean stunned.

He spun around to see the skeletal remains he saw just a few seconds ago were now gone. "What the…" Dean muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around the room where the skeletons had been not a moment ago. "What the hell is going on?" He repeated to himself, trying to make sense of everything he had just witnessed.

Frustration boiled within him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling utterly helpless. He took a deep, shaky breath before quickly exiting the room. "Screw it. I need a drink" Dean mumbled, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

____________________________________________

Thunder was rolling as lightning filled the dark sky where Dean stood in the cemetery. He looked down at the headstone that read ‘John Winchester’ with anger, sorrow, pity and a bit of hatred. “All of them. Everyone that you and F/N saved. Everyone that Sammy, Y/N/N and I saved. They're all dead”

The anger in his voice was palpable, as he looked down at the grave with clenched fists. "Everyone!" he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion. The rain that fell from the sky did little to soothe his anger as he continued to glare at the headstone.

For a moment, he was silent, the only sound being the pattering of rain on his jacket and the distant rumble of thunder. Then he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And there’s this girl that's haunting me. I don’t know why. Y/N can’t even feel her, I mean, how can she not see her? The chick feels everything, it's annoying sometimes!”

He sighed frustrated, leaning against a neighboring headstone, not even caring if he got mud on himself. "I don’t know why. I don’t know what the connection is." he muttered, raising the bottle of whiskey to his lips. The alcohol burned down his throat, but he welcomed the sensation.

It was a distraction for the moment, a way to numb the pain and anger that churned within him. But as the liquid coursed through his veins, it also made his head feel fuzzy and he soon found himself slumping against the headstone, his eyes growing heavy.

He knew he should probably get up and get out of here, but the weight of everything seemed too heavy, too much to bear. He sighed and took another swig of whiskey, hoping that it would bring him closer to unconsciousness.

“Its like my old life is coming after me or something, you know? Like it doesn’t want me to be happy” Dean rambled in frustration before glaring at his fathers headstone. “Of course, I know what you and f/n say. Well…not the two of you that played softball, but…” Dean’s throat constricted as he held back tears.

“You guys would say, ‘Go hunt the djinn. Hey, it put you here, it could put you back’” Dean said bitterly. “‘Your happiness for all those people’s lives. No contest right?’” Dean further quoted his father and F/N. Dean took a shaky breath, his vision growing hazy as the alcohol continued to take its toll on him.

He knew he was rambling, but the words just kept pouring out of him, fueled by the mixture of anger, sadness and confusion. "I just... I just don’t get it" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?!” Dean exclaimed, his heart clenching as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“What about us, huh?! What? Mom’s not supposed to live her life. Me and Sammy aren’t supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?! It’s-” The words died in his throat again, so he brought the bottle to his lips.

The whiskey burned as it traveled down his throat, but he didn't care. The pain from the burn dulled the emotional pain that threatened to consume him. He slouched further down against the headstone, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

His gaze fell on his father's grave again, his eyes narrowing faintly. "Why can’t I just have a normal life? Why does it always to come back to this?" he let out a bitter laugh, "It’s like I’m cursed or something" He took another swig from the bottle, his grip loosening as the alcohol took effect.

Dean let out a deep breath, feeling the world spin slightly as he attempted to push himself up. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he managed to stand. "Yeah." He muttered, stumbling forward a few steps. He didn’t even look back as he made his way out of the cemetery and towards his car.

-

Dean woke up the next morning in bed, his head was still fuzzy, a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He groaned, his hand moving to cover his eyes as he slowly sat up, blinking groggily to adjust to the light in the room. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in his head.

His eyes glanced over to see the time on the clock, 6:30 a.m.

He heard the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom and saw a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol was placed neatly on the nightstand. Dean grimaced slightly as he reached for the Tylenol and popped a few pills into his mouth before washing them down with the water.

The coolness of the liquid helped to soothe his raw throat, and he exhaled heavily. He heard footsteps approaching from the bathroom, but before he could turn to look, Y/N swung the door open, a slight frown on her face.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, "Hey." she said, her voice gentle but with a hint of concern. Dean looked up at her, guilt hitting him as he saw the look on her face. He knew by the look on her face that this wasn’t the first time he came home late and drunk, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

But that wasn’t it, she was nervous. Y/N moved over to the bed and sat down beside him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand, trying to offer comfort despite the obvious worry she was feeling.

"You okay?" She asked softly, studying his face intently. He nodded slowly, looking down at their clasped hands. He squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mumbled. A lie. “I-“ Y/N tried to tell him what she just found out while she was in the bathroom but her tone was shaky.

Seeing the hesitance on Y/N's face, Dean's heart dropped. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, concern etching his features. He squeezed her hand again, silently encouraging her to speak. Y/N took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once again. Her free hand was buried in her robe pocket, clutching the positive pregnancy test in her hand.

“I know we talked about it before… we spoke about doing it after our wedding. I’m ready to do this and I know you are too but-“ She sighed before slowly retracting it from her pocket, placing it into Dean’s hand. Dean's eyes widened as he stared down at the pregnancy test in his hand, his heart skipping a beat when he saw those two pink lines.

His hand trembled slightly as he held it, his mind spinning with a mixture of shock, joy, and trepidation. He looked back up at Y/N, his gaze intense and full of an array of emotions. "You're... pregnant? We're having a baby?" Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, “After I left for work last night, the beer made me sick and I puked my life out. My boss sent me home early, then I realized my period was late…really late”

A flood of emotions coursed through Dean like a tidal wave. He gently set the pregnancy test down beside him and brought Y/N into his lap, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"We're gonna have a baby," he repeated, his voice full of awe and love. He pulled back slightly to look at Y/N, his eyes glimmering with happiness. "I can't believe it. This is..." He trailed off, too overwhelmed to find the right words to express his feelings.

This wasn't real. Is what his mind screamed at him.

Y/N was more than pleased with Dean’s reaction to her positive pregnancy test. Clinging to Dean for dear life as she sobbed, “We’re gonna be such bad ass parents” She chuckled through tears. Dean chuckled softly, holding Y/N tighter against him. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent and relishing in the feeling of her in his arms.

"We definitely are," he agreed, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "We'll be the best damn parents our kid could ask for." All while saying this, he knew what had to be done. Desperately trying his hardest not to cry, because this is all he wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have it.

“Do you have to work today?” Dean asked her tenderly as he traced circles on her back. Y/N shook her head, feeling the comforting touch of his fingers tracing her back. "No," she murmured, "I have today off, thankfully." She snuggled closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth.

"Why? What’s up?” She asked curiously, tilting her head up to look at him. "Just asking," he said lightly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have some stuff I need to take care of today.” He explained. "I’ll be gone for a bit, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” He placed a kiss on her forehead, attempting to mask his pain with a smile.

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling a slight sense of unease but not wanting to push the matter. "Okay, baby, I’ll be here," she replied. "Just be careful, alright?" He nodded, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I will," he reassured her.

Reluctantly, he gently eased her off his lap and rose from the bed, grabbing a shirt from the dresser. "I should get going though. I love you, princess." Those words struck Dean to his core. Y/N watched him get dressed, her heart heavy with worry and confusion but she plastered a small smile on her face. "I love you too, charming," she told him.

Once Dean was gone, Y/N sat quietly on the bed, her heart heavy with confusion. It was as if something was off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing he probably had something important to take care of, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

With a sigh, she laid back on the bed, trying to find comfort in the soft sheets and the familiar scent of the man she loved.

Once out in the garage, Dean leaned against Baby, his shoulders slumping as the weight of what he needed to do hit him all at once. With a sigh, he got in his car and started the engine, the only thing on his mind was the decision he had to make.

____________________________________________

Sam jolted awake in his bed to the sound of the door opening downstairs, it was way early in the morning, he instantly clutched the baseball bat he had under his bed. Gently padding over to the door.

Sam slowly opened the door, his grip on the baseball bat tightening as he strained his ears to listen for any sounds. Hearing the faint sound of movement downstairs, he cautiously made his way out of the room, keeping the bat raised just in case.

He saw the figure of a man in the dark house rummaging through the China cabinet as he peered from the corner. Sam's eyes widened as he saw the figure in the dark. He stayed hidden behind the corner for a moment, his heart racing as he tried to decide what to do.

He gripped the bat tighter, launching himself at the ‘intruder’. Dean swiftly dodged the attack and tackled Sam to the ground, pinning him down with his body. “That was so easy, I’m embarrassed for you?” Dean quipped. "Dean?" Sam exclaimed, breathing heavily, "What the hell are you doing here?" Shoving his brother off of him to push himself to his feet.

“I was looking for a beer” Dean joked, patting Sam on his shoulder. A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the interaction. “In the China cabinet?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowed as he padded over to the wall to flick the light on. His eyes glanced over to the table to see a box of their mom’s expensive knives.

“That’s mom’s silver” Sam pointed out, “Sam-” Dean sighed but his brother cut him off. “Wait, you broke into the house to steal Mom’s silver?!” Sam lowly exclaimed. “It's not what it looks like, okay? I didn't have a choice” Dean tried to defend. “Oh really? What's so fucking important that you gotta steal from your own mother?”

Dean grimaced, raking his fingers roughly through his hair as he tried to find the right words. "You want the truth?" He grumbled. The disappointment in Sam's voice was evident, and it cut deep. But he knew he couldn't tell him the truth. At least not yet. "Yeah. Yeah I do," Sam urged him as he nodded, Dean sighed before coming up with a shitty excuse.

“I owe somebody money.” Sam rolled his eyes. Typical Dean, he thought to himself. “Who?” He asked. “A bookie. I lost big on a game. I gotta bring him the cash tonight” Dean lied. “I can’t believe we’re even related” Sam mumbled, shaking his head. Dean’s face dropped, his heart aching in his chest.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Dean apologized sincerely, “Yeah” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that we don't get along. I’m sorry that you and y/n/n aren’t friends anymore because of me. And I wish to hell that I could stay and fix it, fix everything.” His voice cracked. “I wish I could stay and be a father….but I gotta do this” Dean said, his voice filled with determination.

“People’s lives depend on it” Dean sighed heavily before picking up one of the silver knives from the red box. “What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked lowly, confusion clear in his tone. “Nothing. Forget it. Just…uh…” Dean said as he turned back to his brother. “Hey. Tell Mom I love her. And tell my princess that I’m so sorry” Dean said with a sad smile.

Sam's confusion turned to alarm as he watched Dean pick up the knife. "Dean, what-?" he started to say, but before he could finish his thought, he saw Dean's sad smile and his stomach dropped. Dean turned on his heels to walk out of the room. “Dean” Sam tried to stop his brother from leaving.

“I’ll see you, Sammy” Dean said tenderly, pulling the door open. He gave the house one last sorrow filled and painstaking look. Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Sam stared down the shut door for a few seconds, his mind spiraling. “What the hell, Dean?” He muttered to himself.

He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut as his worries about Dean only increased. Sam was left standing in the doorway, his heart heavy and his mind racing. He couldn't understand what had just happened. Why had Dean been acting so strangely? Why had he stolen the silver, and why had he talked about people's lives depending on it?

Sam's mind raced through possibilities and worst-case scenarios, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Immediately, Sam fished his phone out of his pocket to call the one person he knew would get through to Dean.

Dialing Y/N’s number, he waited anxiously for her to answer. The seconds felt like hours as he held his breath, silently praying for her to pick up the call. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”

"Y/N," Sam blurted out, his voice filled with urgency. "Something's up with Dean" he told her, pacing around the room in agitation. There was a beat of shocked silence on the other end before Y/N spoke, her concern evident in her voice. "I knew it” She grumbled, gripping her steering wheel.

After Dean left the house when she broke the news of her pregnancy, Y/N didn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong as much as she wanted to. So after over an hour of it nagging her, she hopped into her truck and went all over town looking for him.

“Is he still at the house?” Y/N asked Sam quickly. "Uhhh…" Sam hummed as he peeled back the curtain. The Impala was still outside with Dean sitting in the driver’s side, seemingly lost in thought. “He’s still outside” Sam answered, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

"But he was acting strange. He said something about owing money to a bookie and people's lives depending on it. I don't know what to make of it, Y/N" There was a short pause on the other end as Y/N absorbed this information. "That doesn't sound right at all,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, his anxiety growing by the minute. "And then… he told me to tell you and mom that he's sorry and that he loves you" he relayed, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Y/N's heart sank at the mention of Dean's message, a knot forming in her throat. There was an undeniable feeling of dread in her gut.

Sam looked back out the window, his eyes falling on Dean who hadn’t shifted from his spot since earlier.

Her mind was racing, wondering if this was because of her unexpected pregnancy. So she tried her best to formulate a plan, even in this stressful time. “Okay, listen to me very clearly, Samuel. You go outside and keep him there for as long as possible. I’m on my way” Y/N instructed him sternly.

"Got it. I’ll keep him there," Sam assured her, his tone set with determination. “I’ll even pretend to be mad or something.” Y/N’s instructions were clear and concise, giving Sam a sense of purpose and a small hint of optimism, which he desperately needed at this moment.

-

Meanwhile, Dean was sitting in the Impala, lost in thought for God knows how long when suddenly his passenger side. Sam plopped into the front seat with a heavy sigh, causing Dean’s head to snap in his direction. “Get out the car,” Dean exclaimed sternly. “I’m going with you.” Sam insisted.

“You're just gonna slow me down." Dean growled. “Tough!” Sam sassed. "This is dangerous and you could get hurt!" Dean shouted. “Yeah. And so could you, Dean!” Sam shouted back. Dean was still trying to find a comeback when they suddenly heard the sound of screeching tires.

Their heads whipped around to see Y/N's truck coming to a stop a few yards back from the Impala. Y/N quickly jumped out and sprinted over to them. "What's going on?" Y/N asked breathlessly as she yanked the backdoor open, her wide eyes fixing on Dean with concern.

Dean was taken aback by her sudden appearance, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt seeing her there. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered, struggling against his own desire to reach out and hold her close.

"I don’t care. Sam told me everything. Whatever stupid thing you’re about to do, you’re not doing it alone. And that’s that," Y/N asserted firmly. Sam exchanged a knowing glance with her, silently impressed by her determination. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, a mix of annoyance and affection.

He knew better than to argue with her once she had her mind set on something. Whether this was really her or not, he’s pretty sure every version of her would fight his stubbornness if she needed to.

His eyes glanced between Sam and Y/N with shock, he could understand why she would be so stubborn, but not Sam. If they weren’t close here, if Dean was so horrible that Sam wanted nothing to do with him, why would Sam stick his neck out for him?

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” Dean asked Sam in confusion. He sighed deeply, tearing his eyes away to face the windshield. “Because you’re still my brother,” Sam muttered. A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she placed a hand on her stomach.

The two words stung Dean, cutting deep into his heart. ‘Still my brother.' His eyes glanced down to Y/N's stomach as she subconsciously placed her hand on it. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, knowing that he would never get to experience that with her.

"Bitch." he smirked at the two, Sam’s brows furrowed in offense as Y/N smiled. “What are you calling me a bitch for?” Sam stuttered, Y/N let out a snort of amusement. “You’re supposed to say, ‘jerk’” Sam’s brows furrowed again. "What?” Sam muttered under his breath as Y/N snickered, Dean rolled his eyes before putting the Impala in drive.

“Nevermind” He huffed. Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder from the backseat, “Asshat” She shot at with a grin. Dean chuckled under his breath in amusement, his chest swelling with the familiarity, “Nutcase”

____________________________________________

Y/N was half asleep in the backseat, her hand resting right over her stomach, lazily tracing circles around the navel through her shirt. She tried to focus on getting a somewhat proper rest having been on the road for more than 12 hours. The hum of Baby’s engine was the only sound that echoed through their ears.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N through the rearview mirror, the painful ache in his chest resurfaced as he watched Y/N trace her navel, gently caressing her own stomach, almost as if she was comforting their unborn child before it was even in this world yet.

He wanted so badly to just reach over and do the same, he always knew she’d make a great mother, even if y/n wouldn’t admit it to herself. But he had to pull himself away from that nagging feeling. The voice at the back of his head that was begging him to be selfish for once. He had to focus. He had a mission.

“What’s in the bag?” Sam broke the silence, pointing to the brown paper bag laying next to Dean. Y/N cracked open one of her eyes, “Nothing” Dean huffed, focusing his gaze on the empty dark road. “Nothing?” Sam sassed, “Yeah, nothing” Dean snapped back. “Just open the damn bag, I don’t wanna hear any bickering” Y/N grumbled in annoyance.

Sam scoffed before picking up the back. “Fine” He said, “Fine” Y/N mocked back, earning a glare from him. “You don’t wanna do that” Dean snorted. “Oh, really?” Sam sassed again as he reached into the bag, pulling out a container of lamb’s blood. Y/N gasped theratically as Sam did this, his own eyes widening with shock.

“What the fuck is that?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing herself up in the backseat. “Blood” Dean shrugged, both Sam and Y/N’s eyes twitched at him. “Yeah, we can see that it’s blood, Dean! What the hell is it doing here?!” Sam shouted. Dean’s smirk widened, “You guys really don’t wanna know” He snorted.

“No, we really do wanna know! We really really do wanna know!” Y/N yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, y’all are gonna find out sooner or later” He sighed, “I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood” Dean explained casually.

The car fell silent, he craned his head to see Sam and Y/N staring back at him with wide eyes, jaws practically touching the floorboards. Dean had to hold back himself from laughing at their faces, the look they had was hysterical.

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why!?” Sam exclaimed. “Because there’s this creature, a djinn, and I have to hunt it” Dean stated. Sam and Y/N’s faces dropped, “I let an insane man impregnate me” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice going up and octave as she threw herself back into the seat, looking around in disbelief.

“Okay…stop the car..” Sam began calmly, “I know how it sounds” Dean shot back. “Great. Just….stop the car” Sam tried again, y/n was still staring out the car in disbelief, her jaw hanging. “It’s the truth, guys. There are things out there in the dark. There are bad things. There are nightmare things” Dean insisted, Y/N’s eyes snapped over to him as he continued.

“People have to be saved, if we don’t save them, then nobody will,” Dean said determinedly. Sam and Y/N could feel their heads spinning, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying while still trying to process his previous statement about the silver knife. "You're telling us there's some monster out there you want to hunt?" Y/N asked disbelievingly. "Yeah" Dean said as if it was obvious.

"And you need a silver knife dipped in blood to do it?" She continued, her eyes never leaving his. "Uh-huh" Dean confirmed nonchalantly, his focus still on the road. Sam and Y/N shared a disheveled look. She decided she had had enough, pushing herself over from the backseat and into the middle of the two Winchester boys as Dean drove.

“You’ve gotta be losing it,” Y/N declared, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you can’t just go and hunt some ‘djinn’ that supposedly exists, you have no business getting yourself tangled up in something crazy like that!” She cried.

Dean shot her a quick side glance before returning his focus back on the road, “It’s not a ‘supposedly’ thing. These things are real” He stated matter-of-factly. Y/N shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide, “You’re insane” she muttered.

“Look, man, we wanna help you, alright. We really do but you’re having some kind of psychotic breakdown so…” Sam chimed in, attempting to fish his phone out of his pocket. “I wish” Dean muttered. “Baby…” Y/N said to him tenderly. Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel at the soft tone, the nickname making his chest ache with yearning.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Save the pet names…you don’t mean it like that” he huffed under his breath, opening his eyes as Sam dialed a number on his phone. Y/N physically flinched at his harsh tone as he rolled down the window and snatched Sam’s phone out of his hand before tossing it out of the window.

“What the fuck was that, Dean?! That was my phone!!” Sam exclaimed, whipping his head around in shock. Y/N’s mouth dropped, “You just threw his fucking phone out of the window!” She gasped. Dean ignored them both, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, “I’m not going to a rubber room Sammy and y/n/n, and we got work to do” Dean said calmly.

“We were just trying to help you out, Dean!” Sam shouted. “We don’t want you to get hurt!” Y/N added, tears brimming in her eyes. That made Dean know for sure this wasn’t his girl, because as much as she was a crybaby for sad movies and cute animal videos, she wasn’t so easy to break. “What, you two protect me?” Dean snorted in amusement.

“Yeah!” Sam and Y/N exclaimed in unison. “Oh, that’s hilarious” Dean chuckled sarcastically, turning back to face the road. “Why don’t you twojust sit tight and try not to get us all killed?” Dean demanded before turning on the radio. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ began booming through the Impala’s deck again.

Sam and Y/N sat back in their seats, speechless after being chewed out by Dean. They exchanged a look before facing the windshield again, both of their minds swirling with thoughts as Dean’s music blared through the stereo. Y/N’s hands slid down to her stomach, gently caressing the skin where their unborn child was growing inside of her.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the familiar warehouse, Sam was passed out in the backseat, snoring rather heavily. After almost accidentally punching Y/N in his sleep, once again, she shunned Sam to the backseat, leaving an unconscious Y/N in the front seat. Her head was nestled in Dean’s lap, using his thighs as a makeshift pillow.

Dean’s hand moved down to Y/N’s hair, his fingers gently stroking the strands. The aching feeling in his chest increased every time he looked down at her sleeping form. His eyes scanned each detail on her face, the curve of her lips, everything.

It has been a long time since he had seen her look so peaceful, she seemed so relaxed and calm as she slept. It was a sharp contrast the way she usually was; stressed, anxious, worried and overthinking about everything.

Dean sighed heavily before fishing his flashlight from his jacket, shining it in both Sam and Y/N’s faces. A wide grin playing on his lips. Sam’s eyebrows crinkled together as the light shined in his face, his eyes fluttering open as he groaned. “Wha—” He muttered, confusion written all over his face. Y/N on the other hand, let out a loud whine.

Twisting in Dean’s lap to face his stomach before shoving her face into his shirt in order to block the bright light. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty and sasquatch” Dean chuckled, shifting in the seat. Sam grumbled incoherently, rubbing the sleep out from his eyes. “Where are we?” He mumbled, still trying to wake himself up.

Y/N remained pressed against Dean’s stomach, trying to fall back into her semi-comprehensive state of sleep. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Dean replied with a light chuckle. This made Y/N shoot up from her place in his lap. Dean chuckled again at her reaction, a smirk on his face as he turned off the flashlight.

She narrowed her eyes at him before glaring at Sam, who in turn, gave her a small sheepish smile. She huffed in annoyance before looking out the window. Y/N’s eyes flickered over to the warehouse, the air of the cold night wafted through the open windows, Dean’s body heat couldn’t keep her warm anymore. She shivered slightly, bringing her hands up to wrap her arms around herself.

“We’re in Illinois” Dean answered Sam’s previous question. “And you think something’s there?” Y/N’s voice was thick with sleep as she asked. “I know it is” Dean said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the building with determination. Sam and Y/N exchanged a nervous look before turning back to him.

-

The trio all held their own flashlights up, the abandoned warehouse/ruins Dean remembered he was attacked by the Djinn was exactly the way it was. Thunder clapped outside, bellowing through the dark hall as lightning filled the sky.

Dean led the way, his footsteps echoed through the abandoned hallway as they walked. Y/N stuck by his side while Sam followed behind them. She was starting to get a bad feeling, the warehouse was dark, cold and damp. So instinctively, she reached for her fiancé’s hand, interlocking their fingers together.

“See? There’s nothing here, Dean” Sam insisted. “Look, our parents are gonna be worried sick about us, babe. Come on, let’s just go” Y/N pleaded with Dean. Dean gritted his teeth, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened slightly. “Shh” he hissed. Sam and Y/N exchanged another nervous look, stopping in their tracks when they heard the sounds of a girl crying. “What the fuck is that?” Sam gasped.

“Both of you, stay behind me and keep your mouths shut” Dean instructed them, his voice laced with authority as he let go of Y/N’s hand, using his body to cover her. His free hand instinctively went to shield her belly. They both nodded, falling behind him as he moved forward. The crying got louder with every step they took.

Sam and Y/N’s eyes went as wide as saucers when their eyes landed on the decomposing corpses of a man and a woman. The same ones Dean saw back at his ‘house’. Y/N brought a hand to her mouth, a sick churning in her stomach at the sight of the dead bodies. The urge to puke was poking at her as Dean kept his face stoic, the confirmation that none of this was real was creeping up on him and it devastated him.

“What the fuck?” Sam gasped again, swallowing thickly as Dean’s eyes flicked over to a young girl who was tied up by her wrists. She had a large gash in her throat, her skin looked dirty, as though she hadn’t bathed in months. But she still looked somewhat alive, his eyes piercing into Dean’s.

It was the girl that was haunting him. Dean moved closer to the girl as Y/N reached over to grip Sam’s shoulder, trying to hold up her balance. The urge to puke was growing stronger. “Dean, wait…” Y/N mumbled, her words almost incoherent with the bile threatening to rise up her throat. He didn’t listen, only moved forward.

The girl was staring back at him, her eyes bloodshot and dark. “Dean, don’t” Sam spoke up, watching the scene unfold. But Dean still didn’t listen, he went straight up to the girl, crouching down to her. She tilted her head to the side, as if to study him. “It’s her,” Dean gasped as the realization hit him.

It confused them how Dean knew this girl, but they still felt the need to help her. For Y/N, seeing the young girl in such a state brought out the maternal instincts she never knew she had. “Dean, what’s going on?” She asked urgently, attempting to reach over to untie the girl, along with Sam. But Dean stopped them, “Shhh” He hushed them when he heard footsteps.

Quickly and quietly, they all hid behind a large tank as the Djinn entered the room. The young girl was shaking as the heavily tattooed creature padded over to her, “Where’s my dad? I don’t know.” The young girl sobbed, her voice absolutely desperate and broke. The Djinn didn’t answer, he just inched towards the girl whose feet were hanging slightly off the ground.

“No. Don’t. No. Where’s my dad?” She pleaded weakly as she tried to shuffle away but it was no use. The djinn brought his hand up to her face, placing his fingertips to the sobbing girl’s face, “Sleep” He said, his fingers lighting a small glow of white before fully expanding into a large dark blue light. The girl shivered in his touch, “Sleep…” He said again, caressing her cheek.

The girl soon fell unconscious as the Djinn placed a sickening kiss on her cheek before unhooking the saline bag that was hanging on an IV stand. He then brought the bloodied thin clear hose to his mouth, ingesting her blood.

Y/N felt sick to her stomach, her throat closing up at the scene unfolding in front of her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, it was like she was completely frozen, not able to move or break her view from the girl.

Sam wasn’t faring much better, a visible shiver shot through him at the sight. His head felt like it was spinning when the djinn started feeding off the girl, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.

Dean, on the other hand, had never felt so angry. His body was tense and his jaw clenched.

Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore, the bile in her throat built up and she immediately let chunks blew all over Sam’s shoes, causing the younger Winchester to gag in disgust as both the scene unfolding and the sight of the djinn drinking the girl’s blood.

“Agh, Jesus!” Sam hissed, lowly. But it seemed like the djinn didn’t notice, it’s back was turned and it was still in the middle of feeding. But Dean caught the sound of Sam’s gag and Y/N’s heaving, he shot the pair a glare and held his finger up to his lips, signaling them to stay quiet.

The djinn finally finished feeding, letting out a satisfied moan as it pulled the hose out of its mouth. A chilling smile crept across its lips as it left the room. “This is real? You’re not crazy?” Y/N began to hyperventilate along with Sam as she wiped her mouth, buckling over as a pain struck at her stomach.

“She didn’t know where she was. She thought she was with her father” Dean muttered, the wheels turning in his head. The boys then stepped out from behind the tank, moving closer to the girl. Sam held up a weak Y/N, his arm draping around her midsection as Dean clenched his fists.

“What if that’s what the Djinn does? It doesn’t grant you a wish. I just- it makes you think you has” Dean swallowed harshly. He was hoping that somehow, someway, it could’ve just been a super fucked up wish. And he could’ve fixed his relationships with his family. Finally get on F/N’s good side. Be a better brother, be a better fiancé….be a better father.

“Look man, that thing can come back, alright? And we need to get Y/N to a hospital, she’s weak” Sam pleaded with Dean as Y/N’s head tumbled on his shoulder. But Dean didn’t hear him, all he heard was a ringing in his ears, his head snapping to the other side of the room where a light shone over head.

Dean slowly stepped closer to the light, flashes of his own body hanging from a ceiling filled his vision. Causing the elder Winchester to choke on his own spit, his throat constricted as air refused to enter his lungs. “Dean, baby. Please” Y/N’s weak voice pleaded with him. “What if I’m like her?” Dean finally let himself say out loud. “What if I’m tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?”

Part of him knew, that voice nagging him at the back of his head knew. “I mean, it could, you know…maybe give us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow,” Dean muttered as he studied the girl’s face. Sam’s jaw dropped at Dean’s words, his brain going into overthinking mode, he was about to say something but stopped when he heard a low whimper come from Y/N.

Her head was heavy on his shoulder. “No, Dean, that doesn’t make sense, okay,” Sam gaped. Y/N’s weak eyes flickered to Dean once more, her breath was slightly ragged and labored from when she had puked. “Please” Y/N croaked, clinging onto Sam. Dean turned to face them.

“What if that’s why she keeps appearing to me? She’s not a spirit. It’s like more and more I’m catching reality flashes. You know? like I’m in here somewhere, I’m catatonic. I’m taking all this stuff in but I can’t snap out of it” Dean put the pieces together.

Y/N, weak as she was, peeled herself from Sam and forced herself to walk over to Dean, her legs were shaking and it was hard to keep herself standing upright But she reached out for him, her hand landing on his arm. “Dean” She gasped. “Look, you’re right. We were wrong, you’re not crazy. But please, we need to get out of here. Fast.” She pleaded, her words coming out thick and choked, trying not to puke again.

Y/N ran her hands up the back of his neck but it made Dean feel sick rather than safe. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, clenching his jaw before roughly pushing her off. Luckily, Sam caught her before she could hit the ground. Y/N and Sam both went wide-eyed at Dean’s sudden roughness. Y/N’s face crumbled, her expression filled with hurt as her eyes began to water. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice so fragile.

But Dean’s face was hard and emotionless, his eyes darkened as he stared back at her. “What the fuck man?! She’s pregnant!” Sam exclaimed as he carefully helped Y/N back onto her feet, his arms held protectively around her. “I don’t think you’re real” Dean gaped, feeling as though he had been shot in the heart. “I don’t think either of you are real.” Dean shook his head, slowly backing away from them.

Y/N let out a choked sob, her bottom lip quivered, the urge to keep herself together was getting weaker. Her head fell into her hand while Sam looked ready to punch some sense into his brother’s head.

He gritted his teeth before helping Y/N to lean on something before storming over to his brother, shaking his roughly. “Did you feeling that? You feel this? I’m real! Y/N is real and so is your goddamn baby! This is not an acid trip! We’re real and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now please” Sam pleaded with Dean, his tone filled with desperation.

Dean’s face remained stoic, “There’s one way to be sure” He clenched his jaw before retracting the silver knife from his jacket pocket. He then raised the knife towards Sam. “Woah, Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! Stop!” Sam cried, his hands shot up into the air, as if to surrender. Scuffling over to shield Y/N who was still clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. But Dean didn’t believe it for one second.

“Dean, what are you doing, man? What are you doing?” He pleaded with Dean, his eyes widened in panicked confusion. “It’s an old-wives tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up” Dean stated. Sam’s face fell, he knew exactly what Dean was going to do. “No, no, no, no. That’s crazy, alright?!” He protested. “Maybe” Dean shrugged.

Y/N’s head perked up, her eyes widened at Dean’s words as she finally understood what he was about to do. “Dean, no, don’t!” She shouted as Sam used his arm to stop her from approaching Dean. “You’re gonna kill yourself- Okay!” Sam exclaimed when he tried to apprehend Dean but he drew the knife on them in a warning manner. “Or I’m gonna wake up” Dean shot back.

“One or the other” Dean breathed heavily. “Look, this isn’t a dream, alright? We’re here, with you, now, and you are about to kill yourself, charming” Y/N pleaded with him, her voice sounding suddenly stronger. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, “No, I’m pretty sure” He growled, “Like….90 percent sure” He blinked before turning the knife on him, ready to stab himself.

“Wait!!” Sam bellowed. Dean’s head snapped over to the side when he saw the figure of two women, one in a white nightgown and the other in a black. Mary Winchester and M/N L/N approached Dean with sweet smiles on their faces. His heart dropped in his chest as he watched from all corners. Jess appeared, then F/N from another corner.

Y/N was suddenly healthy and well again, slowly walking up to Dean. “Why’d you have to keep digging? Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?” She asked, her voice wasn’t sounding much like her own. “You were happy.” Sam added as Mary and M/N moved and began walking besides Y/N. “Put the knife down, honey” M/N said gently.

“Listen to her, Dean,” Mary added just as tenderly. Dean was frozen in place, his eyes wide, shifting from side to side as the women in this nightmare, his nightmare, advanced towards him. His heart was hammering in his chest, he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack. The knife loosened on his grip as he looked over to Y/N, his eyes wide like a frightened child.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

“You’re not real” Dean’s lip trembled, tearing welling up in his eyes to say this to his mother and M/N, subconsciously tightening the knife in his grips. All three women frowned, “None of it is” He spat. His eyes glancing down to Y/N’s stomach, he felt as thought he had been shot, once again.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still better than anything you had” Mary said encouragingly. “What?” Dean gasped. “It’s everything you want. We’re a family again” M/N added, offering Dean a small smile. “Let’s go home,” She urged him. “But I’ll die,” Dean’s voice broke.

“The djinn’ll drain the life outta me in a couple of days” He shook his head, part of him wanted to be selfish and take the offer but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “But I’m here with us, it’ll feel like years…” Y/N chimed in, taking Dean’s hand into hers to place it on her stomach. “…like a lifetime”

Dean’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He was torn between selfish temptation and morality, his mind was fighting with itself. The feeling of his child under his hand was so real and it was making him falter.

The tears began to fall down Dean’s pale cheeks, he looked absolutely heartbroken. He didn’t know what to do, the women around him had everything he ever wanted but it wasn’t real. None of it was real. His throat was tight, he could feel the bile rising from his stomach but he tried to hold it in.

Mary brought her hand up to caress Dean’s cheek and M/N took Dean’s free hand in his. “We promise. No more pain or fear.” Mary said sweetly as Dean nuzzled his cheek into her hand and tightened his grip on M/N’s hand. “Just love, comfort and safety” M/N added in an urging tone.

Dean’s eyes reopened, still trained on his palm that was resting on Y/N’s stomach. Both mothers stepped back, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around Dean, running her fingers through the nape of his neck. “Dean. Stay with us. Let’s go home and get some rest” Y/N pleaded.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s, staring into those gorgeous (e/c) irises that he’ll never get tired of looking into. She looked so beautiful, so healthy. It was too good to be true. The idea of her bearing his child, them being parents together, the idea of her actually loving him back was all too good to be true for Dean. His lip quivered as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing his thumb on her soft skin.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. You get to watch him live a full life” Jessica chimed in. Dean’s brows creased as his chest ached. Y/N leaned up to capture Dean’s lips into a gentle slow kiss. The kiss was long and tender, it felt so real, and it was making this so much more painful for Dean.

He could feel his heart breaking as tears continued to fall down his face, a strangled gasp escaped from him. But Y/N didn’t let go. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hand remained firm on her stomach. She pulled away for a breath, her bottom lip trembled as she leaned her forehead against his, “We can finally have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, charming” She whispered.

“Please” Y/N pleaded, the look of desperation in her eyes was enough to bring Dean to a puddle, it took all in him not to crack right there and give in. He stubbornly shook his head, “No you don’t….at least, not like that” Dean whispered back, his voice hoarse as he once again denied Y/N’s love for him.

A frown took over Y/N’s beautiful face, her eyes watering up as the words stung her. “Yes, I do” She insisted, her hands moving up to cup his face so he wouldn’t look away, to look her in the eye. “Dean, I do, I love you” Her voice was pleading, she wasn’t lying. The words were written all over her face, her heart was laying bare for him.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

It was Sam’s turn, the younger Winchester stepped forward and Y/N released her loose grip on Dean. “Why is it our job to save everyone?” Sam asked in a calm voice. “Haven't we done enough?” He added, the look of despair on his brother’s face was extreme to the point where Sam was willing to do anything to keep Dean here.

“I’m begging you. Give me the knife” Sam begged him. Dean’s eyes trailed the room. They went to F/N, who was yet to say a word, but he had an encouraging look on his face. “Give him the knife, son” He finally said. Dean’s eyes then went to Jessica, before trailing over to Mary, M/N, Sam and finally Y/N. He gave her stomach one last look before leaning down to press a kiss to it.

Y/N’s lip curled into a small sad smile as he pressed a tender kiss to her stomach before drawing back to stare solemnly into her eyes. They were glossy with tears, she didn’t say anything, afraid that her voice would betray her. Dean’s eyes softened slightly as he stared down at the woman he loved.

His throat was as tight as it was before, but it felt more painful now. His heart ached, it hurt to say what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, princess,” He murmured. With that, Dean reared the knife back before driving it into his stomach. A chorus of cries filled the room. “DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed.

Reality, 2007

Joliet, Illinois

“DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed when they stormed the ruined warehouse with Jo, guns blazing, all armed with silver knives dipped in lamb’s blood. Y/N’s stomach dropped, suppressing a scream when she saw Dean tied up from his wrists, a bag of his blood that was being drained was propped on an IV stand. He looked as pale as ever.

Y/N, Sam, and Jo advanced into the room further, eyes locked on Dean. She felt her stomach twist painfully as she took him in; bloody, bruised, pale. He was unconscious, most likely from the blood loss, he was too weak to lift his head.

“Dean” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as her mind ran a mile a minute. Just staring at him was making her want to break down and cry. “Oh, God. Come on” Sam pleaded as he reholstered his gun and began shaking his brother.

“Dean, sweetie, please” Y/N begged, placing both her palms to his cheeks, gently tapping him as his eyes fluttered open. Jo reached down into Y/N’s boots to take out the butterfly knife she had stored there, flickering it open.

“Oh, Auntie Em. There’s no place like home” Dean moaned and groaned from the loss of blood. “Thank God, I thought we lost you for a second” Sam breathed out in relief, the pain clear in his voice. “Y’all almost did” Dean grunted, his face creasing with pain as Y/N yanked the IV needle from his neck.

“Come on, let’s get you down” Jo said quietly as she began to cut away at the ropes. Sam and Y/N held Dean up, not seeing the Djinn that appeared behind them. “Sam! Y/N!” Dean screamed, warning them. The sound of Dean’s voice, screaming their names, made the pair of them whip their heads around in horror.

The sight of the djinn made them both freeze for millisecond, stunned. The two instantly kicked into action, attacking the Djinn while Jo desperately tried to cut away quickly at the stubborn roping, bounding Dean’s wrists.

Both hunters tried to stab the Djinn with their knives but it was faster and stronger than them, it dodged their attack, gripping them by their wrists.

“Come on, hurry up!” Dean yelled at Jo, yanking at his wrists. “I’m trying!” Jo screamed back, quickening her pace, the two were horrified.

Y/N raised her foot, high kicking the Djinn across his face (thank you cheerleading) dazzling the creature. He backhanded Sam into a railing, the hunter went headfirst into it, also dazzled. The Djinn suddenly grabbed hold of Y/N’s throat, a gasp left her at the unexpected attack. It yanked her backwards, holding her in its grip.

Y/N struggled in his grip as he picked Sam up by his throat, attempting to squeeze the life force out of the two. Y/N reached her hand out in an attempt to summon her discarded knife on the ground with her mind but it was no use, the lack of air was causing her to grow light headed, her focus was minimal.

She was losing her touch as darkness slowly crept into vision, her eyelids grew heavier as she struggled to keep eye contact with Sam, who was equally as dizzy. She could see Sam flailing about, his lips moving but Y/N couldn’t hear him through the loud, continuous buzz that was ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, Dean and Jo appeared behind the Djinn, the younger huntress buried the knife in the Djinn’s spine. A sickening pierce echoed through the room as the Djinn groaned, gargling on his own blood. Her face contorted with anger as she twisted the knife for good measure.

They watched as the Djinn collapsed to the floor with a strangled moan, his grip loosening on the two, allowing both Sam and Y/N to break from his grip. Y/N let out a strangled cough, filling her lungs with oxygen and trying to regain her breath.

Dean turned his head to look at Y/N and Sam, who were both slumped against the flooring, both dazed. “Hey! You two okay?” He asked urgently, placing his hands on both their shoulders. “Yeah” Sam croaked, his voice hoarse when he swallowed. “Fine” Y/N nodded, reaching up to her neck to feel the aching skin where he gripped her.

Jo breathed out in relief as she crouched down to place her hand on Sam’s cheek. Sam winced as he leaned his cheek into Jo’s warm gentle touch on his face. The pair stared at each other for a moment, both glad the other was okay.

Sam was the first to break eye contact, he forced himself up from the floor, letting out a sigh, his legs felt like jelly. His eyes shifted over to Y/N, he extended his hand out to her, silently asking if she was okay. Y/N looked at him, letting out a shaky breath and nodded, taking his outstretched hand in hers.

Dean then suddenly remembered the girl from his dream, his head snapping behind him to see her tied up the same way he was. His face fell with instant sorrow when he saw her bound state, she was in a gown that was torn, her hair was messy and disheveled, her face was pale and lifeless.

Dean felt anger as he began to approach the girl, his legs stumbling as he attempted to stand up. His legs were still weak and wobbly from the Djinn venom. Dean brought his fingers up and pressed it to the side of her neck. His eyes widened when he felt the light thumping of a pulse, “She’s still alive, guys!” Dean exclaimed with relief as Jo reached up and cut the girl down and Dean retracted the IV needle from her neck.

Dean cradled the almost lifeless girl in his hands, “I got you. I got you. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? I got you. I got you” Dean breathed out, even though weak, he held her up in his hands. Y/N smiled to herself as she watched Dean cradle the girl, his voice was soft and gentle as he murmured soft little reassurances to her.

Shushing her as if he was trying to soothe a child. She and Sam shared a concerned look however as Jo frowned. All fearful and unwilling to imagine what Dean went through in just a span of a few hours.

____________________________________________

Dean was sitting on his bed in the motel room, reading one of Y/N’s playboy magazine’s while Sam was on the phone with the hospital and Jo was lounging on Sam’s bed. Y/N was making a cup of tea for Dean, per her request, to bring his strength back up.

“Okay, uh, thank you so much for the update. Okay, bye” Sam said into the phone before hanging up. “That was the hospital. The girl’s been stabilized. Good chance she’s gonna pull through” Sam informed Dean, who just nodded in return. “That’s good,” Dean grunted. “Yeah” Sam sighed, settling in the bed next to Jo.

Y/N returned to Dean’s bed, handing him the cup of tea. “How about you? You alright?” She asked gently. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks” Dean cleared his throat, unable to keep eye contact with her as he accepted the cup of tea. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unconvinced look.

“You should’ve seen it, guys. Our lives…” Dean sighed. “You were such a wussy” Dean shot at Sam jokingly, making the room erupt in chuckles. “You weren’t there man, sorry” He said to Jo. “No worries” Jo chuckled, shaking her head. Dean took a small sip of the warm tea, making sure to not burn himself.

“So we all didn’t get along then, huh?,” Sam asked. Dean’s brows raised suddenly, “Well- Nope” He replied bluntly, shaking his head. Y/N sat down next to him on the bed. “At all?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow. “Yeah nope” He chuckled dryly, lying through his pearly white teeth, taking another sip of the drink.

“Man, I couldn’t imagine us not getting along” Sam muttered, the look of disbelief on his face matched the other two. “I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy” Y/N sighed, crossing one leg over another. “It wasn’t- It was just a wish” Dean cut her off, his eyes trained on his tea.

“Yeah, I wished for Mom and M/N to live. If they never died, F/N would’ve never told dad about hunting. And we all just never…uh…you know” Dean said sadly. The other three had frowns on their faces, feeling the pain they all could relate to in him. It was a hard life they led, full of loss and suffering, they all felt it.

“Well I’m glad we do” Sam said, “And I’m glad you dug yourself out Dean” Jo added, both meaning their heartfelt words. “Dean,” Y/N said quietly, placing her hand on his leg. “Most people wouldn’t have had the strength. They would’ve just stayed.” She assured him.

Dean lifted his gaze from the tea, meeting Y/N’s comforting eyes. “Yeah, well. Lucky me” He replied with a small dry smile, his eyes scanning her face. Dean’s eyes flickered over to Jo and Sam, both were staring at each other deeply. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I gotta tell you though, Sammy. You had Jess, you were gonna give mom grandkids. And Y/N…your dad was alive and you were gonna get married to Xander” Dean lied.

Sam’s head snapped up, an uncomfortable look instantly appeared on his face. “Yeah,” He replied awkwardly, rubbing his face. This wasn’t exactly a topic he enjoyed talking about. A frown set on Jo’s face, she knew about what happened to Jess after Sam gave her a deep dive of his life and she did the same with him.

Y/N saw the frown appear Jo’s face, immediately coming to her defense. “Yeah, but, Dean, it wasn’t real. Nothing that happened in your head was real, nor will it ever be” Y/N told him gently. Dean paused for a minute, feeling as though he had been shot for a third time.

His heart was practically ripped from his chest at her words. Dean clenched his jaw, “I know….but I wanted to stay.” He confessed gruffly before gulping down a mouthful of tea. His eyes glanced down at Y/N’s stomach, memories of the Djinn’s world were still fresh in his head. “I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since F/N and Dad….all I could- all I could think about is how much this job’s cost us”

“We have all lost so much..w-we have sacrificed so much” All three of them stared at Dean, surprised at his confession. “We know,” Y/N affirmed gently, her eyes staring at him with a mix of understanding and sadness. Sam nodded in agreement, the pain and suffering was something they all had. “But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean” Sam countered.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “It is, man. And- it’s not fair. And- you know- it hurts like hell” Jo chimed in, scoffing dryly. “But like Sam said, it’s worth it” She assured him. “And you’ve got us” Y/N reminded him softly. All three hunter’s eyes were on him, their faces were sincere.

Dean swallowed deeply, his eyes glanced back down at his tea. A small part of him wished he was still in the dream. Y/N nudged him gently, “Hey” She whispered, bringing up her pinky. “I pinky promise” She smiled softly.

A small smile cracked on the corner of his mouth, a small chuckle left his lips. Dean gently raised his hand and linked his pinky with hers. “There, you can’t break a pinky promise” She winked, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

____________________________________________

Authors Note: “yOu CaNt BrEaK a PiNkY pRoMiSe” oh sweet summer child, just you wait until the next episode💀 (as someone who takes pinky promises very seriously, I’m already in tears)

ANYWAYS, did I break your heart? Did I make things better? Or are you plotting my demise?😂😂😂

I hope everyone loves this one! Be sure to tell me what you loved or what you hated, I can’t wait to hear your feedback🥰

Thanks for reading and have an amazing day loves!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[m4yasnotthatcool]

Can we have Andrew and Reader have a life after the events of the game (In the Bulletless Decay route)?

Reader would be an exchange student who would have gone to stay with the Graves family, but in the end she ended up being another 'victim' of the game's circumstances.

She would be a type of person who was indifferent to almost everything, cold-blooded, with somewhat sociopathic tendencies but with a kind heart.

Okay, let's do this, after Ashley's murder, Andrew and Reader finally got fake teeth and moved somewhere far away, but with all the recent traumas and along with the fear of being abandoned.

Andrew started to have possessive tendencies, a little clingy, toxic, manipulative towards our 'poor thing' Reader and that would result in them having children in the future, to keep her trapped in the coffin with him.

ANDREW GRAVES X F!READER

(a/n: okay so i think i understand what u mean, sorry if its not what you expected, im a little(very) rusty rn at writing) NOT PROOF READ!

okay so first of all, Ashley never liked you, and thats part of the reason Andrew liked you sm

like, yea, he always does whatever his sister wants him to, and he hated himself for falling for you

but there was just something about how you were so indifferent under almost any circumstances (oh how he enjoyed seeing you crack under the pressure when you ate the cultist!)

your cold blooded outer shell was something intriguing to him

he wanted to study you

he wanted to get to know you.

did he care about you from the begining? ha, no.

of course he didnt

his sister hated you, so he hated you too

she was afraid you'd steal him from her so he didnt give you the chance

a couple of days into the quarantine is when he'll finally give in and start talking to you

and low and behold, he loved you from the first interaction

you were just so interesting!

he, of course, felt guilty for going against his sisters wishes, but he still would spend mre and more time just talking to you

after killing ashley i think he would just be in denial

for a really (REALLY) long time he would just wait for her to come back, even tough he knows shes not going to

after somehow getting away and finding a permanent place to stay, you two got in a relationship

both of you had abandonment issues you should treat, but neither of you felt it was necesary

from the start he didnt let you talk to anyone else but him

at first it was something you despited about him, feeling it was too clingy. you needed space, you needed privacy

but at one point those needs started fading away

he would tell you "you dont need anyone else but me. im the only one who is capable of understanding what you went trough! and you're the only one who can understand what I went trough. but its alright! dont worry about me! just worry about yourself and what you want. its not like you care about me anyway."

so you belived him

you didnt need anyone else but him

you told him you didnt want kids

thats one of the many topics you talked about when you met

you didnt feel they fufiled any particular need of yours and you didnt want to have them if you were just going to regret them after

he managed to change your mind

after having your 2nd child with him, you were so far gone that you remained just and empty shell of the person you used to be

the lines between you two started bleeding into eachother and so he absorbed your presence

you were no longer yourself

you were just who he wanted you to be all along

he still loved you of course

also i feel like he would get a lot of his manipulation skills from his sister

or whatever is the feeling he gets thats closest to love

he just needed you to stay

and whenever it seemed like you were ready to fly away, he would cut your wings

________________________________________

final a/n

i know its bad dude, im sorry 😭

if you were to ask me right now what i just wrote i couldnt tell you (like im fr rn)

if you want me to try to re-do it just ask (if u didnt like this one that is)

so uh

thx for asking

and sorry its bad lmao

here are the other fandoms i write for!

have a nice rest of ur day/night!

[inksoakedparchment]

Shining for you

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: sad x fluff

trope: lovers to soulmates

word cunt: 845

tw: death mentioned, suicide, (your) tears, swearing, my english

summary: you were on a mission with the team, but one of the Hydra’s men shot you. you didn’t make it and it’s your death’s one year anniversary, oh and bucky was your boyfriend…

a/n: i had a bad day, i cried, so… i’m trying to make you cry, dear reader

songs: November Rain by Guns n’ Roses, Knockin’ on heaven’s door by Guns n’ Roses

Bucky makes his way to your grave with a bouquet of white lilies and red roses. It’s the first anniversary of your death and he still loves you, like you didn’t even die one year ago. At the beginning, he sat every day in front of your grave, but in the past half a year it became once a week. You’ve always watched him and it feels heartbreaking, that you can’t touch him or at least talk with him.

“Hey, doll,” he starts “I still miss you. It’s like I lost my other half, feels like my soul died with you that day. The minute your heart stopped beating. The sparkle in your eyes, your loud laughter, your smile, I can only see and hear it in the videos and in the photos I took of you. I took of us. If you hear me, just give me a sign,” his voice starts shaking, and his eyes become teary.

You sit down next to him and he turns his head in your direction like he can feel your presence.

“Y/N?” he asks quietly and you put your hand on his, the tears burst out of him. “I feel you,” he cries.

“I miss you too, my beloved soldier,” you say softly. He freezes. He hears you as whispered words.

“Doll, I hear you,” he looks directly into your eyes, despite the fact he can’t see you. You feel surprised because he’s never heard you before when you talked to him.

“I love you, Bucky. I always will,” you say while you try to swallow the lump.

“I love you too, doll. More than you can imagine. You healed my broken heart, then it’s torn apart again. You were my light in the darkness. And you’re still that. Every time I tell the stars about you, I feel like I’m knockin‘ on heaven’s door. I don’t know how I can manage this without you,” he sobs, it makes you cry too.

“Love, a whole life is in front of you and I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness and a family. You can have it without me too, we will meet when your time is up,” you say while the tears run down your cheek.

“I don’t wanna, Y/N. I wanted you to be the mother of my children. I wanted you to be my wife. I still want it. I can’t imagine it with anyone else,” he shakes his head.

“I’m gonna watch you, okay? At least try to be happier,” you say softly and lean your head on his shoulder.

“I feel you. I feel your head on my shoulder, it kills me that I can't touch you, doll. I miss you,” he sobs.

“I miss you too. I love you so much, try to be at least fine, okay? I need to see your smile. I didn’t see it this year,” you state sadly.

“I’ll try. Whenever I look at the sky I'm going to see you in the stars. I’m going to smile at you,” he says softly as he looks up at the sky.

“I’m going to shine for you,” you say with a soft smile. It’s obvious he’s going to tell you something now.

“On that cold November day, when you left the world behind, I stood in the rain. I know how much you loved it. I stood in the cold November rain for you. It felt like you were caressing my face through the raindrops,” he swallows.

“I love you,” I say and I look at his clock. It’s changing and it shows midnight.

“I love you too,” he says, his shoulders tensing. “Doll?” he quickly turns his head where I still sit. “I don’t feel you,” his voice cracks.

He looks at his watch and he sees your death’s anniversary day ended and the realisation hits him. He can only hear and feel me on the day you died. Once a year. He breaks down.

two months later

He couldn’t take the emptiness anymore he felt without you. He ended his life when you watched the team eating dinner. He appears next to you.

“I love you,” he whispers and looks at you. You rapidly turn your head in his direction and your lips part away. “I know you’re disappointed in me, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. Forgive me, Y/N,” he says and moves closer to you, slowly touching you. His face lights up when he feels your skin under his touch. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“You’re so stupid,” you wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re so stupid, I love you,” you whisper in his chest.

“I missed this, doll. I missed you,” he gently pulls away and kisses you deeply.

You feel happiness and also sadness at the same time. You’re happy because he’s with you, but sad because the team lost him too. It’s gonna cause pain for them.

You’re a whole now. Not just two halves in different worlds. You both just become a whole again.

tag list: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @yourwifewatersflowerss

[novashelby]

I'm Not Your Wife, I'm Your Daughter-Father!Tommy Shelby x Daughter!OC-Angst

Pairing: Father!Tommy Shelby x Daughter!OC-Evelyn (but honestly, Evie has a little bit of everyone. So, you are welcomed to be Evie...we are all Evie)

Warning: Death, swearing, violence, mentions of sex, very sad

Word Count: 2,761

Summary: Evelyn comforts Lizzie as Ruby gets sick in the hospital. When Tommy neglects his family, his daughter has some choice words for him

I am so proud of this. For the first time in a while, I feel really happy with something I wrote. So, please please please consider commenting and letting me know what you think. I know likes are easier, but I'd really appreciate some comments.

The childrens’ tuberculosis wing was a dark road. In fear of contraction, no one was allowed past a certain point. It reminded Evelyn of the road to hell, but she was older then. She knew better to speak the words in her head. So instead, she said nothing as Lizzie and her stared down the corridor that only seemed to get darker. A simple hand on the shoulder was good enough, whatever that was…good enough. They knew nothing was good. So, perhaps, it was just enough.

No longer able to bear looking down where they took her, Evelyn turned, letting out a large exhale. Out of everyone, she had to be the strong one, the present one, the mature one. There was no room to lose herself. Without looking at Lizzie, her hand searched behind her until she felt the ridges of her checkered coat. Her fingers hooked around the sleeve and tugged. But she was stubborn. If anything at all were to change from then until the end, Lizzie was determined to be there. 

“Go home,” she told Evelyn, not unkindly. More so lack of any emotion. But she’d be damned if she left. Evelyn looked at her step-mother, or mother, she was never really sure what any of them were. The woman was young-only eleven years older than she, but her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks lost all and any color. It would have been nice and too easy to blame it all on grief. Evelyn knew better. Her father sent everyone to an early grave. 

She shook her head. “No way home at this time.” 

Lizzie softened a bit, giving a short head nod. “Very well-”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. There was nothing left to get. Lizzie needed no more coffee. The two women shared a look of understanding. Lizzie stepped forward and hugged Evelyn; her arms squeezed around her, head tangled in her hair. Stiff at first, Evelyn was taken aback. Her own arms slowly wrapped around, hands hovering for a moment over the woman’s back. While neither were ever affectionate as mother and daughter, Evelyn was bonded to Lizzie by one mutual understanding. One was birthed by a whore and one was a whore. “It’s not going to be okay,” Evelyn said, resting her hands against her back. “It’s going to be horrible.” She could tell the woman was crying from how her shoulders twitched and chest heaved.

“I know,” she said, furiously nodding. “I know, I-I know….” Lizzie did her best sniffing, and wiping the wetness from her face, but Evelyn grabbed her hands. It was okay to cry. Everyone did it. Especially when life handed you a reason with no explanation. “I’m, I’m fine-”

“Let’s sit.” Evelyn walked Lizzie to an empty waiting area that was just as gloomy as the corridor. They were quiet for a while, studying everything there was to study; paint chipped wall, door frame, the chairs, and a lopsided painting of the Dover cliffs. But when Evelyn turned her head, eerily sat next to her was a teddy bear. It was a faded brown with a worn out face. Dried tears left specks of crusty, hard fur. It and her stared at one another for far too long until she turned and found something else to get lost in. “He’ll come-”

“He loves you,” she commented, slowly looking at her. “Out of everything in the world, he loves you more than anything-”

“No.” Perhaps it was true, but Evelyn couldn’t afford Lizzie going down that direction. “No, he loves everything the same, Lizzie. If it was me in that room, he would have been just as conveniently occupied-”

“He’s affectionate with you-”

“My father’s affections are spread thin.” Evelyn looked at Lizzie, forcing a small, thin smile…lips pressed and face tight. She shook her head. “We all fight for what isn’t there. You, me, Charlie. If I was older and wiser, I would have told you none of it was worth it. Him, it, us…none of it.”

Lizzie for the first time allowed herself to laugh. It was awkwardly placed among the hospital grounds, but nonetheless, it was a laugh of sorts. “I would have been just as stupid-”

“Well, if you look at it this way,” Evelyn snorted. “Married John and you still would be without a husband.” As the words came out of her mouth, she regretted it, but Lizzie laughed trying to soak up any humor she could in distraction. Shortly after, they went back to sitting in silence, soaking up their thoughts. Perhaps trying to numb themselves in the midst of it. Evelyn felt so much she was numb. 

Sometime around midnight, Ruby had been moved to a different room. One where the family can see her under precautions. Lucky for Evelyn, she had received the vaccine as a child unlike Ruby. They had come out just in 1921 and just a short year later, made their rounds. Lizzie had fallen asleep, slumped in the waiting room chair. She almost woke her up, but decided against it, wanting to slip into the little girl’s room herself for a short moment.

And it was a short moment because Evelyn couldn’t bear to look at such a small life withering away. She slid in the room. It was the first time she saw Ruby for a few days and even then, she’d been thinner looking. Her feet stopped under the threshold, feeling her heart sink down to her stomach. “Ruby,” she whispered, not knowing what she could expect back. The last time the two sisters chatted freely, it’d been about fairies. 

First, it was a sneeze and Evelyn helped her blow her nose. Then it was a cough and Evelyn went into her little room with some water. Finally, it was the fever and after the fever, the infection spread over her little body. Both were too busy. Evelyn would never tell a grieving mother, you were also too busy. Her father was too busy neglecting family for work and Lizzie was too busy caring for a man who neglected her. When the fever got too high, she called the doctor. Funny enough, they were home. Both of them in their own world. Own repeating cycle. Tommy had asked why didn’t you tell us? Who could between all the drinking and yelling? But that was then when they were naive of it all.

Evelyn pressed by the threshold and quietly sat down on the edge of the bed. The young girl slept still, head lifted. She’d never seen a child so drained of life; pale and almost tinted blue. Her breaths were spread out and wheezing. Sometimes they’d be like little gasps for air, trying to cling onto whatever was left. Affectionately, Evelyn rubbed the girl's legs to get some circulation moving and propped her up better. She was still fashioning the braids from a few days ago. “You look so pretty, Ruby,” she whispered, sliding to the floor to kneel at the bedside. “I wish I brought a blue bow…I’ll put one in your hair for you’ll always be wearing a blue bow.” 

Evelyn thought back to the time she took her shopping in Birmingham. Ruby had just turned five. Look, they have a pink one for your hair. She would have looked so cute with pink. Ruby had taken one look at the pink satin ribbon and turned, pointing to the blue one, I want the blue one. “I’ll always get you the blue one,” Evelyn said when the memory ended and she was left staring at the still girl. Tears leaned heavy on her eyes waiting to fall down her cheeks. It would be the first time Evelyn would have allowed herself to cry, but not for long. She placed a lingering kiss on the girl’s cheek before leaving. When she opened the door, Lizzie had just reached for the door knob. But they only shared a quick glance before Evelyn went back to the seating area.

The bear had seemed to been moved, so when she walked back in, it’d been staring at her like the devil. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” she groaned, swiping it off the chair before sitting down. 

Sometime between then and whenever Tommy came, she fell asleep. He peeked in before sliding into the waiting area, kneeling by her sleeping side. Despite being twenty-four years old, Evelyn was still short and able to make a makeshift bed out of chairs, curling up. He was his girl. His baby still. After everything, Tommy still looked at her as he did when she was eight. His calloused, shaking hand rested against her cheek for a moment, his thumb making circles. “Love,” he whispered, placing kisses on her forehead. 

Evelyn jumped awake a bit, propping herself up with her elbow. In a tired voice, she said, “you should have been here-”

“I know-”

“No, dad.” Dad. Tommy felt that knife go through him. It had always been daddy, but never dad. “You should have been here!” The words came out like hisses through clenched teeth. She sat up, ignoring the cushion imprint on her cheek. Tommy couldn’t argue with that. He knew. Tommy looked down, swallowing, nodding.

“I had work-”

“Work,” she scoffed. “Ruby is in the hospital…she’s-.” Evelyn stopped talking, noticing the red puffiness around her father’s eyes. She knew then. “Why are you here with me? You should be with your wife-”

“You should go home-”

“You’re deflecting-”

“You should go home,” he repeated, tone a bit more serious. “I’ve called Isaiah to pick you. If you want to have a fight, we’ll have a row when I come home later. Alright?”

Evelyn shook her head. “No.” She was incredibly tired of his shit. “No, dad, nothing is alright.” She slid from the chair and draped her coat around her shoulders, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Tommy looked over at her. “Remember when you were eight, and you told me something.” Evelyn paused at the door, rolling her eyes to herself before tiredly turning to her father. He was still kneeling at the chair. “You said…you said to me, do you remember? We were laying in the field and it was the first time I had taken you on the caravan-”

“What are you getting at? Huh?” she rushed him, fixing her bag on her shoulder. “I know, we went up north…it was the edge of the season and the mist…we got really wet laying in the grass. But I don’t understand what any of it has to do with you not being here!”

He got up, striding over to her, pointing, “you said…daddy, it’s me and you-”

“Because at that point, you were all I had,” she snipped back. “But guess what, I’m older now and my circle is bigger. I have other people, and in fact, out of everyone…it seems I have you less.”

Tommy cocked a brow. “No, no…you said, in some shape and form with your little girl words…daddy, it’s me and you, and no matter what you do, I will always be by your side.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You did,” he said, pointing. “You said that…it was misty and in September of 1918…In fact, I had adopted you just a month later. Shortly before that, I had came home from France-”

“I was eight,” she sighed. “You can’t hold something against me from when I was eight-”

His hand reached up and massaged her cheek. “I’ve held people for less-”

“Well, you fucking know what, dad.” She swatted his hand away. “That promise wears off when you start to neglect the only people who still love you. And quite frankly, loving you, it’s hard…it’s fucking tiring. Exhausting. You never know the meaning of accountability. You know what you do?” Tommy swallowed, his hand instinctively gripping her wrist. Perhaps deep down he was afraid she was going to leave. Go somewhere further than home. Somewhere he could no longer grab her. 

Tommy closed his eyes and sighed. “You don’t understand…no one hates me more than-”

“No one hates you, daddy,” she said. “We're just tired. Everything we have was not worth the cost of what it took. Everyone else is gone.” In one way or another, everyone else was gone. She slipped from his wrist and started to leave.

That is when he said, “I’m glad it wasn’t you-”

“That's an awful thing to say right now,” she whispered. “That was my sister-”

“I loved her…love…and my heart hurts so much right now,” he explained. “But if it was you, I’d be better off dead-”

“And that’s why I mean.” Evelyn had to choke down the tears. It was years of stress and trauma coming forth. Discreetly, she held onto the door frame. “You don’t understand…it’s too much! Daddy, it’s too much…I’m your fucking daughter! But after Grace died, I became everything! I became Charlie’s mother, your wife, your sister, your fucking mother! I became your nurse, your caretaker, your therapist, your fucking everything. It’s been ten fucking years, daddy, and I’m tired…I’m so fucking exhausted!” She walked over to, her hands gripping his arms. “I’ve lived through every stage of life for everyone, but myself…”

Tommy was hardly impressed. He knew what she was saying, but couldn’t accept it. Because he was selfish. “Have I not given you everything you’ve ever wanted? That is your problem, Evelyn, I raised you spoiled…and I will continue to fuckin’ spoil you because it’s too fuckin’ late. So what? I asked you when my wife died to help with your brother? Huh? Is that it?” He pinched her chin. “Do you not remember how you’d sneak out all the time? Get in trouble? Party and drink? I’d have to come pick you up from some random fucking house at three o’clock in the morning! So, don’t give me that bullshit, Evelyn…you lived your youth just fine. You know what I did with mine? Worked and then I went to fuckin’ war…So, I’m sorry, out of all your fun times, I asked you to hold a tad bit of responsibility. Go home-”

“Aunty Polly was always right about you,” she scoffed in disbelief. “You lack all sense of accountability. I had to sneak out because that was only time I was free-”

“And I never once punished you for it,” he interjected. “Never striked you, grounded you, hardly ever yelled at you…Out of everyone in my life, you are the only fucking person I’ve forgiven without consequence.”

Evelyn pushed away. “That’s because everything else has been a punishment. My friends from school are married…I was supposed to go to university, but you needed me home. All the men who wanted to marry have found other wives. Daddy, I am left behind because I’ve devoted my whole life to being your emotional lap dog, and what's sad is, you don’t even understand!” She paused to swallow, taking deep breaths. Tears had dripped down her cheeks, falling to the ground. “Daddy, you only have three people left…me, Uncle Arthur, and Aunty Ada…and some of us already have one foot out the door.” 

Tommy nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. He dug into his pocket for a cigarette. “Maybe my curse is my ambition.”

“And mine is that I love you too much,” she replied. “I love you so much that I’ve never left and I probably never will. So I will suffer until you die…I will watch you kill yourself little by little, drink and smoke, and sleep with women you can never afford to love. I will stand by and watch you wear people down until they die, and then have to put you back together because you realize your guilt. It’s a fuckin’ cycle.” Evelyn took a deep breath, fixing her coat before turning away. “Daddy, I love you, but I promised you that when you were making illegal bets on horse races. Not neglecting us for politicians.”

“What do you want me to say, Evelyn?” he asked. 

“Nothing. I want you to say nothing,” she said. “But I fucking swear to God, if you bring that blonde headed bitch back to our home and fuck her like you did the night Ruby went into the hospital, you’ll see a side of me you’ve never seen-”

“Daughters don’t get in their father’s-”

She looked at him once more. “I’ll fucking cut her head and stick it on the pillars of the bridge in London like 1600. And with her blood, I will write your fucking name….”

[lesbicosmos]

six of crows is so incredibly hozier coded and to prove it ive assigned each character/couple a song and given a specific section of the lyrics

(i feel entirely normal about this i swear)

the books in general are 100% eat your young

There's money to be made, whatever's still to come Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

kaz brekker - arsonist's lullabye

When I was 16, my senses fooled me Thought gasoline was on my clothes I knew that something would always rule me I knew the scent was mine alone All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

inej ghafa - would that i

With the war of the fire My heart moves to its feet Like the ashes of ash I saw eyes in the heat Feel it soft and as pure as snow Fell in love with the fire long ago With each love I could lose I was never the same Watch it still live in roofs Be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Lay in waste of my lovin' long ago

jesper fahey - someone new

There's an art to life's distractions To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through Some like to imagine The dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way

wylan van eck - through me (the flood)

Any time I've struggled on Against the course Out on my own Every time I'd burn through the world, I'd see That the world, it burns through me

nina zenik - angel of small death and the codeine scene

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

(this is so nina post-parem)

matthias helvar - foreigner's god

Her eyes look sharp and steady Into the empty parts of me But still my heart is heavy With the hate of some other man's beliefs

kaz/inej - work song

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

(this is just so i would come for you and if i couldn't walk i'd crawl to you i cannot)

matthias/nina - in a week

A thousand teeth And yours among them, I know Our hungers appeased Our heartbeats becoming slow We lay here for years or for hours Thrown here or found To freeze or to thaw So long we become the flowers Two corpses we were

(they're also incredibly work song coded, it was a struggle choosing between helnik and kanej for that one)

wylan/jesper - like real people do

So I will not ask you Why you were creeping In some sad way I already know I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask and neither should you Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

[spiritunwilling]

HI. FAILCHILD ZINE is a zine about your ugliest children, your unfinished poems in the corners of your Google Drive, that mortifying first-draft-gone-nowhere you planned to take to your grave. We are interested in publishing your worst works! Pieces that you decided never to send to any proper literary magazine. Stuff that you couldn’t quite wrangle into your vision for the work. Projects you started and never got back to. Bad and incomplete, or good and incomplete. Empty structures clinging to a skeleton of ambition. What you gave up on. The things that didn’t cohere, even if you really badly wanted them to. We are interested in the process and the prototype. Show us what could've been. Show us what was, and was not what you wanted anyways.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

[dontforgetukraine]

Sofika Zielyk, a ethnographer and folk artist, is a first-generation American who has maintained her roots to Ukrainian culture. She created The Pysanka: A Symbol of Hope project as a "reminder of resilience, cultural preservation, and the power of art to uplift in times of hardship."

“There's a legend that says as long as people are creating these eggs, the world will continue to exist. And I thought this will be my answer to the aggressor, that we will continue to exist,” Zielyk said.

With this project, Zielyk has used social media to invite and encourage anyone to create their own Pysanky using time-honored patterns and methods. These handmade pieces were then gathered at the Ukrainian Institute of America to form a unified art exhibit and installation that is ever changing as more eggs arrive.

The Pysanka originally symbolized the rebirth of nature after a long winter, with the yolk representing the sun. Through this art installation, the pysanka has been adopted as a powerful emblem of defiance against Russian aggression as well as the rebirth of Ukraine after war.

When asked if this installation will ensure Ukraine's continued existence, Zielyk responded:

"This installation of the pysanky tradition is a metaphor for the Ukrainian people themselves. They and the tradition have gone through wars, serfdom, famines, artificial famines, occupation by other countries, and yet have flourished in spite of all this. Ultimately, it shows the aggressor that we were here in the past, we are here now, and we will continue to be here."

Eventually, all the pysanky donated to the installation will travel to different areas of Ukraine affected by war.

They will be incorporated into the same ancient rituals that our ancestors performed thousands of years ago: put in beehives, buried in the ground, placed on graves of children murdered during the war.  But this time, the rituals will be performed not with the intent of hastening the return of the sun god after winter, but for the rebirth of a nation from the ashes of war.

You can send your empty, traditionally decorated pysanky to:

C/O The Ukrainian Institute of America 2 East 79th Street New York, NY 10075 USA

For more information about the project and the history of pysanky, please visit the articles below.

From Tradition to Resistance: Ukrainian Pysanky as Symbols of National Survival

The Pysanka: A Symbol of Hope

[flowercrowngods]

The Last Day.

Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.

So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.

The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.

But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.

Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.

It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.

The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.

Or maybe they’re the same feeling.

Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.

He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.

Michael Bruce

He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.

He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.

Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.

Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.

To the dust We gave the dead.

The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.

Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.

Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.

“Steve?”

“Robbie?”

“You… You better come see this.”

He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.

He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.

Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.

Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.

Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.

[milkteasweetheart]

『just like heaven, chapter 1, part 2』

this part contains riddle’s dream sequence. 

housewardens x reader

author’s note: i depict nrc as an actual college, so first years are 18, second years 19, etc.

summary: crowley has the bright idea of a bonding experience, specifically in the form of a dream potion.

characters: (riddle rosehearts), leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia / platonic mentions: dire crowley (ew), grim

genre: romance, fluff, smidge of angst

warnings: female reader, reader is yuu, reader is around ace and deuce’s height, sappy, marriage, mentions of potential children, some suggestive themes

「dream scene: rose colored reverie」

This Riddle looked strange. Well not really, he was just wearing a cutesy outfit with a red, fluffy cardigan and black corduroy pants. On top of it was a frilly apron. Was he taller?

The Dream Riddle took off Dream (Y/N)’s coat and hat with another chaste kiss, and the two  moved into the living room. Everything was a bit blurry except for her face. Huh. “Have you eaten, my love? I know you work too hard without taking breaks.” Dream (Y/N) caressed Riddle’s cheek. Azul was subtly rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain, raising concern within everyone.

Idia is about to draw blood from the way he’s biting his cheek, trying to prevent laughter. Normie loser! How corny can a person’s dreams get?

「Idia: At least have a cool dream! LMFAO」 (He will admit this version of the prefect looks nice, but she always does- who said that.)

Dream Riddle nods. “I’m ready to go if you are. Where are we going this late, though?” He tilts his head. (Y/N) chuckles with a clearly enamoured expression. “It’s a surprise. I know you’ll like it.” And with a kiss on the tip of his nose, the scene changes with a disorienting distortion.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

They’re now standing on the outside of a cafe. Riddle considers curling up into a ball. There has to be a reason his beloved hedgehogs do it. The hedgehogs… that he and the prefect take care of…

Jamil feels pity for Riddle who is currently making a quiet impression of a red balloon being emptied of air. Thankfully his own dream won’t be as bad… at least he thinks so.

The cafe is beautiful, too perfect with checkered floors, lacy curtains and velvet couches. Dream (Y/N) is currently feeding Riddle a forkful of the most delectable looking strawberry tart with an adoring expression. The strawberries are so red and shining it hurts her eyes. She considers addressing this, but decides to have pity on Riddle who has gone through with sitting on the floor and hiding his head. Leona does the opposite.

“Hah. Feels like my teeth are going to rot in my mouth at this rate.” Leona is trying to goad Riddle into digging his grave deeper. Might as well make the most of this dumb experience, right? He is totally not trying to distract himself from the looming threat of his dream being revealed, which is coincidentally in the same genre. Riddle shakes with embarrassment. (Y/N) notes Malleus staring at her dream counterpart from his position before the cash register.

“Ah, I think it’s quite amusing- adorable. Dreams often reflect what their creator wants, and can’t get.” For a merfolk Azul is cattier than Leona. Vil is a bit too smug too. At least his dreams are sophisticated.

Idia notices Jamil and Malleus aren’t exactly invested in this story. Well, nothing interesting is currently happening, but he must push his introvertedness in the corner to save his life.

Jamil’s a bit scary, but won’t smite him out of existence like Malleus could. “Hey…” Idia flinches a bit when he turns to look at him. “Hm?” No backing down now, Idia. “This is like, super cringe right? This is probably the worst we’ll see, but the others one are gonna be boring as hell, right? Maybe we should figure out a way to get out?” Jamil thinks about it, and crushes Idia’s hope into dust. “I need a break from Scarabia anyway. I don’t mind it here.” He also has to see Azul’s inevitable doom.

「Idia: Just say you want me dead…」

[opencommunion]

"Our new camp in Rafah, after our third displacement, is located in a graveyard near the Egyptian border. Each day the tents of new arrivals – of those forcibly displaced by Israeli attacks – creep closer to the graves.

After every Israeli massacre, both graveyard and camp expand, crawling toward the outer edges of the desert.

We’ve been here since December 2023. Nine of us share a tent that is 16 square meters.

We are in the desert, but sometimes it does not feel that way because of the density and the near-constant sounds of Israeli explosions and drones.

There are so many people in the camp, all of us in tents that do not protect from heat or cold.

Winds sometimes uproot tents. There are stray dogs everywhere. Every day we line up for drinking water. Sometimes the water runs out and we return to our tents empty-handed.

My family’s tent is in the middle of the camp. Next door is a medical point that supports those who have been displaced here.

I’ve seen doctors stitch up children’s wounds with care. Often there is no local anesthesia, so the doctors compensate with extra warmth and smiles. An elderly woman came to the tent for treatment for a chronic condition. They treated her with kindness. They did not have much medicine for her.

Since medical supplies are scarce, the doctors use what they have on hand.

We are being annihilated. We are running out of options. The north and south are separated, and communication is cut off. I used to hope that I would see friends and family in the north again, but now I just don’t know.

After this war ends, where will we go? Israel has destroyed our homes, and our favorite places no longer exist."

22 April 24

[bectoshi]

:: as much as he says it's a strength, tooru's empathy will be the death of him.

!! purely a crack fic haha. it is so stupid i apologize. happy birthday tooru!

miniseries masterlist

Oikawa Tooru had always had a gift for attracting trouble, and his ability to do so has never lost its novelty to you.

Because here he is, getting ambushed by a flock of seagulls because he had thought to make you laugh. 

The day was going so, so, suspiciously well. 

It was only a few moments ago that you were both laid out on the identical beach chairs Tooru had put together. You, taking sips of your iced coffee, book in hand, and Tooru, silently busying himself with the bag of fast food he had begged you for. 

You were doing exactly what you came to the beach to do. Unwinding and distracting yourselves from your responsibilities back at home. And as you thought, it was going so well.

But all good things can’t last forever. 

At first it’s his fake sigh, then the drop in his voice when he announces that, to no one in particular, “They look hungry too.”

Following Tooru’s eyes to the pair of seagulls not far from where you sat, you finally put the pieces together. Because you don’t miss the all too familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, despite the sad tone he has on his voice. 

“Don’t you dare, Tooru.” You warn.

“What?” He’s smiling now, eyes still on the birds, “I’m just saying, they look hungry! I really can’t help that I care about the wildlife.”

Always feigning his innocence. You, however, saw right through it. 

“Tooru. I know you. I know what- where are you going?”

He’s now choosing to ignore you. He stands, fries in hand, and advances carefully towards the seagulls. 

This isn’t going to end well.

He starts with one, experimental fry, tossing it to the birds from where he stood, only a few feet away. Successful, they take the bait, scrambling to see who can reach it first. 

More fries fall onto the sand and more seagulls fly over to feast on tooru’s offerings.

You are about to turn and go back to minding your business, until you hear a shout coming from his direction. Oh god. 

“I need more! Pass me more fries!” You turn to the empty takeout bag, crumpled and abandoned on his beach chair. Fuck. 

“We don’t have more fries!” You yell to him, who is now backing away as the seagulls close in on him.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK!” 

He’s running now, flock of birds not far behind him, and you realize that you’ve gotten the attention of the beachgoers around you. Sunbathers raise their shades above their eyes to identify the commotion that had awaken them while parents rush to cover their children’s ears with their sandy hands, shielding them from the expletives coming from Tooru’s mouth. 

You sink down lower in your seat and pretend you don’t know him. 

The car ride home is silent, save for the your collaborative playlist that was blasting through the speakers, and save for your periodic giggles whenever you glance sideways at the driver’s seat.

Tooru keeps his eyes on the road as he drives the way back home, his face grave. He has his shirt back on, but the sight of the seagull pecks littering his chest and back underneath is already engraved in your mind. 

And as expected, Tooru is unable to escape the verbal torment from Iwaizumi the next day when he saw the still tender marks on his body.

It’s safe to say that he’ll never live this moment down.

[ramblingoak]

The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 11: Confessions

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost to catch up and read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster, @ghuleh-recs for the collage and @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!  For some more amazing fanart check out: @missygoesmeow (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335  here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing​ ( 1 / 2 ), @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), @z-xmyers (1/2/3/4), @foxybouquet ( 1 / 2 ), @delulluart here, _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter.  Also thank you to @kissingghouls for all her help and emotional support.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ You finally arrive at The Ministry but Saltarian's men are closing in and threatening the lives of everyone that lives there...

Warnings: violence, angst, slight smut, NSFW 18+ only MDNI, 11k words

“So that’s his big plan?  Kill the girl and blame the rest of us?”

Secondo didn’t bother answering his brother, he kept his eyes aimed out the window towards the street below.  The sun was just starting to peek over the mountains in the distance and soon the city would wake up.  Businesses would open, children would be dragged to the schoolhouse by their parents, drunkards would be groaning into the light and thinking about their next drink.  He tipped back the rest of his own drink, the whiskey the only thing keeping his nerves calm.

“The end of the Church of Emeritus.”

“Well that’s a little fucking dramatic.”  Secondo turned to look at his brother, not at all surprised by his carefree demeanor.  Terzo didn’t care much about anything these days unless it was alcohol or someone to warm his bed.  Still, the bastard should have some sort of reaction instead of leaning back in his chair like everything was fine.  “Maybe that’s the problem, Saltarian and Copia are too similar.”

“He actually said the same about him and I.”

“Really?”  The sound of the chair legs hitting the floor echoed around the otherwise quiet room.  “You and Salty?”

“He said in a different world we could have been business partners.”  He walked back to his desk and set his empty glass down with a thunk.  “Not that it matters.”

“SÌ, it’ll be hard doing business with a dead man.”

“I’m not dead yet, fratellino.”

“Oh please, you think we stand a chance against Saltarian?  Ten years has given him ample time to build up whatever army of mercenaries he has.”  Terzo shook his head while he looked around in his coat pockets for a cigarette.  “We haven’t exactly focused on recruitment in that time.”

“No, we have not.”  

Secondo shoved a hand through his hair, groaning as he sat down at his desk.  Papers littered the top of it, things he hadn’t had time to get to in the last few days.  Things that might not even matter soon anyway. 

“What are you thinking fratello?”

“I’m thinking we don’t have a choice.”  He glanced up to meet Terzo’s eyes, the both of them glowing briefly from the flame of a match as he lit a cigarette.  “I can’t risk everything for one girl.”

“Copia won’t be happy.  From what Cirrus said he and Salty’s fiancé have gotten…close.”

“Copia will be lucky if I don’t skin him alive when he shows up.  He’s dug his own grave here.”  Secondo gritted his teeth as he thought over what Cirrus had told them when she’d gotten back.  While she hadn’t seen the two of them together, or the girl at all, the other Ghouls mentioned that something had been happening between the two.  Secondo hoped that if Copia was fucking the girl it was out of boredom and nothing else.  Anything beyond that and Secondo would have an even more difficult time with what he had to do.  “If we can get her to Saltarian relatively unharmed he’ll drop the matter.”

“He said that?”  Secondo nodded in reply, his eyes down at his desk.  While Terzo had no room to judge his decisions he still didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when he shared the rest of what Saltarian had told him.  “So what, we just dump her outside of town for one of his men to grab her?”

“We’ll need to distract Copia I’m sure, but yes.  He wants us to send her out on her own for them to get her.”

“Lucifer’s balls.”  Secondo’s expression shifted just enough for Terzo to freeze, the front of his chair once more dropping loudly onto the wood floor.  “Good luck with that.”

“What would you have me do, fratellino?  Let Saltarian and his men destroy everything again?  How many more need to die before you accept the inevitable?”

“And what’s that?  The inevitable?”

“That we don’t belong here, as we were.  That Copia’s fantasy of rebuilding our church is just that, a fantasy.  Nothing more.”  Secondo shot Terzo a glare when the younger man started laughing.  “What?”

“Out of all of us I expected you to lose your faith last.  I never expected you to consider turning in our own blood.”

“Then what would you do?  Better yet, what would The Morningstar do, huh?”

“He wouldn’t give up without a fight.”

“That’s funny, I thought he gave up a long time ago.”  Secondo immediately regretted his words, watching as the spark that had ignited in Terzo’s eyes at the mere mention of his past went out.  “Terzo…”

“You’re right, I did give up.  But Copia didn’t, he kept fighting.  He kept believing.”

“Believing in what?!  A cause that we dedicated our lives to?  A Dark Lord that was supposed to reward us for our devotion, to protect us while we celebrated what he stood for?”  He took a deep breath, lowering his voice before he continued on.  “Where was Lucifer when our lives burned to ash?”

“I don’t know, but maybe Copia does.”  Terzo stamped his cigarette out on the arm of the chair, smirking when he caught Secondo narrowing his eyes at the action.  “I’d like to hear your plan now.”

“Considering what Cirrus said I don’t think we’ll be able to convince Copia to willingly give her up.  Someone will need to convince her to do what’s best.”

“Which is what?”

“Leave Copia behind and move on with her life.  She belongs with Saltarian, not a bunch of outlaws.”

“Okie dokie, so you corner her, scare her off and then expect Copia to just let her go without a fight?”

“I’m going to try to talk some sense into him first.  You’re welcome to help with that, by the way.”

Terzo let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looked for another cigarette.

“You need Primo’s help, not mine.”

Secondo nodded but didn’t say anything.  Primo was the smartest of all of them, getting away from here and living on his own.  Although if Saltarian did go through with it and take them out he doubted Primo would be able to escape.  He would just be the last Emeritus standing for however brief amount of time he lasted.

“Copia will either see reason or he won’t.  I refuse to lose everything again.  Especially over some meaningless girl Copia gives two shits about beyond getting the ransom for her.”

“And what if he doesn’t see reason?”

“Then he’ll be the first to die.”

“Wake up Principessa.”

“Hm?”  You attempted to bury your face back under the warm blanket but Copia just pulled it away again.  “Hey.”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It’s cold.”  He grinned, throwing his duster at you as he got up.  “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.  Hurry up now, before everyone else gets up.”

With a groan you escaped the warmth of the blanket, quickly shoving your arms into his duster.  Aether was sitting by the fire when you finished getting your boots on, smiling at you when you walked by.  Copia was finishing saddling Brizio when you made your way to his side.  The horse shoved past him to get to you and you laughed when Copia swore as he stumbled back a few steps.

“He likes me better I think.”

“First my Ghouls and now my horse.  What’s next?”

You wanted to say ‘hopefully his brothers’ but decided to keep that to yourself.  The imminent meeting with them was weighing heavily on you.  Sleep had been evasive the night before as you worried over what would happen when you reached The Ministry.  You once more found yourself wishing you could travel around like this with Copia and the Ghouls forever.  Dancing by the fire every night in Copia’s arms…

It was a memory you wouldn’t soon forget.

“Should I get my horse ready?”

“No, you’ll ride with me.”  He winked as he held out his hand for you, grinning when you didn’t even argue.  “Up you go.”

Once you were both settled onto Brizio he directed the horse away from camp.  The sun was just barely peeking over the mountains in the distance, casting warm light over the land and warming the temperatures up.  You still found yourself burrowing into his duster and leaning back against Copia’s chest.  He held onto the reins in one hand and kept his other arm tight around your middle, securing you as close as possible.  You placed your hand over his where it rested on your side and smiled when he interlaced your fingers.

Another moment to keep with you as long as you could.

Copia didn’t stop until you were far away from camp, hidden in a clump of trees as the sun continued to warm everything around you.  After helping you down he let Brizio wander where he wanted to.  You both watched as the horse began to much on the sparse grass, unbothered by how heavy the air had become between the two humans with him.

“Copia?”  You reached out to touch his elbow, flinching when Copia jumped at the contact.  “What’s wrong?”

“Niente.  It’s nothing.”  He shoved a hand into his pants pocket and you could hear the clinking of stones and metal as he pulled out his grucifix.  Copia let it dangle from his fingers for a moment, watching the stones sparkle in the morning light before stepping right up into your space.  “I wanted to give you this away from prying eyes.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you watched his face.  His mismatched eyes were bright as they met yours before looking back down to the heirloom from his mother.

“I can’t…I can’t take this.”  You winced when his face fell a bit so your hands quickly covered his.  “This was your mother’s, you should keep it.”

“I want you to have it.  As a token, as a symbol of what you mean to me.”  He dropped his head and kissed the back of your hand before straightening up again.  “I want you to know.”

You held your breath as he stared at you, your hands shaking a little bit over his.

“Know what?”

He took a deep breath and pulled his hands away, shaking out the chain a bit to untangle it.  You stayed still when he lifted it up and placed it on you, being careful not to snag your hair in the metal.  When it was settled he took a moment to straighten it and then held the silver piece on the end in the palm of his hand.  You looked down at the symbol of his church, covering it with your hand to hold it between you after a moment.

“That I care about you, Principessa.  Far more than I should.”

You couldn’t help but press closer at his confession, trapping your hands between you.  His head lowered again and you let yours drop as well so your foreheads pressed together.  Both of you stayed quiet for a moment, letting Copia’s words hang between you.  It wasn’t until his free arm snuck around your waist to pull you closer that you felt brave enough to speak.

“I care about you too, Copia.”  He made a small noise in the back of his throat as he pulled his hand away from the grucifix to cup your cheek.  “I lo–”

His mouth silenced your next words, his lips hot and needy against your own.  You wrapped both of your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off so you could bury your fingers in his hair.  The kiss deepened quickly and you opened your mouth for him when his tongue demanded entry.  He groaned when you nipped at his tongue and began to walk you backwards until your back met the nearest tree.

Copia’s kisses were dizzying like always, enough to make you forget what you had almost confessed to him.  It had been bubbling up in you for days now and with everything that still laid ahead you wanted him to know.  You needed him to know how you felt.  With a gasp you pulled away, tugging on his hair a bit when he tried to lean back in.

“W-wait, I need to tell you something.”

He brought his other hand up so he could hold your face between them, his thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he looked into your eyes. 

“Not yet.  Soon, yeah?”  He kissed your forehead when you tried to speak again.  “Will you wait for me?”

You pulled away so you could catch his eyes again and your argument about wanting to tell him now froze in your throat.  Did he feel the same way?  Is this why he wanted to wait to hear you say it?   

Did he want to say it too?

“Okie dokie.”  Copia let out a burst of laughter at your use of his phrase.  He started pressing sloppy kisses all over your face until you squealed and tried to push him away.  “Stop, stop!”

He relented but tugged you close again, his arms wrapped tightly around you as his breath fanned against your ear.  

“Soon.  I promise.”  

You nodded against him, clinging to him tighter than you could remember doing so before.  After a moment you pulled away, brushing some of his hair back when you did.  Truthfully you thought you’d wait as long as it took to hear him say those words.  It wouldn’t change how you felt about him.

“Should we head back?”

“I think they’ll survive without us for a little bit longer.”  

He tilted your head up and leaned in to kiss you, deepening it quickly when you wrapped your arms around him once more.  

“How long are we going to be waiting around for them?”

“I have no idea.”  Aether continued to pack up his cooking supplies, stepping over Dewdrop’s outstretched legs while shooting him an annoyed look.  “Got somewhere to be?”

“I’d like to get back to The Ministry at some point in my life.”

“I thought you liked being on the road, you get antsy as hell when we’ve been at the casino for more than a week.”

Dew shrugged and looked around camp rather than answering right away.  Aether wasn’t wrong, he did get antsy if they were at The Ministry for too long.  He didn’t really know the best way to describe the feeling.  It was part boredom and part just not liking being cooped up.  There was always plenty to do there (Secondo was always more than happy to boss any of them around) but Dew much preferred being on the road.  

It was a helluva lot more exciting than dealing with drunks that was for sure.

“Usually we don’t have as large of a target on our back.”  Dew glanced at Aether when his friend froze while shoving things into his saddlebags.  “I’ll feel better when this whole thing is over and we have that ransom money.”

“You don’t actually think that’s still going to happen do you?”  Dew rolled his eyes when Sunshine came over and sat down beside him.  “I mean, there’s no way Copia is just gonna give her up to Saltarian now.”

“Why the fuck not?  And don’t say anything about love.”

“It’s because he loves her.”  Swiss plopped down on Dew’s other side, grinning when the smaller man groaned.  “He’s got it bad.”

“You sure it’s not an act?  They didn’t seem happy when we left the farm.”

“Well they sure as fuck are happy now.”

Dew didn’t bother answering Swiss because he knew it was pointless.  Whatever had happened before they left the farm had obviously been solved.  Just watching them dance last night had been all he needed to see.  It had made his chest ache a bit as he watched them while he had played the guitar and his friends sung every stupid love song they could think of.  He was happy for Copia, and for his princess, if they actually did love each other.  It would fuck up a lot of other shit in their lives but that’s why Dew made sure he always had plenty of ammo nearby.

“Alright so they’re in love, super.  That’s fantastic.  What the fuck are we gonna do about Saltarian?”  Dew looked around at everyone, snorting when none of his friends met his eyes.  “Also you all know that Secondo is gonna be pissed, right?”

“He’s already pissed from what Cirrus said.”  Sunshine pulled out a knife and started picking at her nails.  “We should go back to the farm.”

“And do what?”  Dew shoved her shoulder when she looked at him like he was an idiot.  “You honestly think any of us would be happy settling down and farming for the rest of our lives?  What about rebuilding the church?”

“What about it?”  Aether had wandered back over then and was staring down at the three of them.  “If we don’t have the ransom money we don’t have a way to rebuild the church, do we?”

“I vote to go back to the farm, I liked it there.”  Swiss grunted when Dew kicked at his leg.  “Fuck, what?”

“You’re telling me that you’d all be happy to live out your days farming in the middle of fucking nowhere?”  Dew looked at each of his fellow Ghouls in turn before throwing his hands up in exasperation.  “I’d rather not sleep in a barn for the rest of my life.”

“Some of us could probably sleep in the house, there’s plenty of room.”  Sunshine turned and grinned at Dew before continuing,  “Except for you though, Ethel hates you.”

“Fuck you.  She just needs to get to know me.”

“Nah we’d have to build another house or something for all of us.”  Swiss got up and stretched before holding his hand out for Sunshine to help her up.  “I think Copia and Princess would want the house to themselves.  Fill it up with a bunch of mini-Copias.”

Dew made a face before taking the hand Swiss now had outstretched for him,  “Fuck, you don’t think they’d start having kids do you?”

Swiss yanked on Dew’s hand, jerking him roughly to his feet and laughing when he swore.  With a quick move he hooked a leg behind one of Dew’s and then shoved him at the shoulders.  Dew landed on his ass with a groan before launching himself at Swiss’s legs, bringing the man down roughly onto the ground.  Aether quickly moved out of the way and stood next to Sunshine, the both of them watching the two Ghouls wrestle around and curse at each other.

“They don’t need kids, they have us.”

Sunshine flashed a grin at Aether but her smile quickly faded when something behind him caught her attention.  Aether turned to look and saw two riders coming over the hill down the road.

“Copia and Princess?”  Aether shook his head and continued to watch the riders approach, his body tensing even more when Sunshine spoke again.  “Mountain and Rain?”

Four more riders soon appeared behind the first two and Aether could see the metal of their guns glinting in the morning sun.  He shouted at Dew and Swiss before turning to meet Sunshine’s determined face.

“Fun’s over.”

It was easy to lose track of time with Copia kissing you.

He had eventually laid his duster out on the ground and pulled you down on top of it with him.  His hands were everywhere, tugging at your clothes and maneuvering you until you were in his lap.  Copia’s fingers were quick on the buttons of your shirt and as soon as he could he had a hand inside of it and under your chemise, his thumb rubbing against your nipple.  He swallowed your little gasps and whimpers, his tongue teasing against your own while his fingers teased your breast.

The more time you spent together like this the more bold you started to feel.  You were learning how he liked to be touched, how to get groans and whimpers out of him.  It made you feel powerful that you could make him feel good just like he made you feel good.  Before you could think too much about it you dropped a hand onto his crotch and began to rub his hardening cock through his pants.  Copia broke away with a desperate sounding noise, pressing his forehead against yours and panting into your mouth.

“Fuck, Principessa you–”  

The both of you suddenly froze when a barrage of distant booms invaded your little space.  Brizio made a noise and sped over towards you both, the horse experienced enough to know what those sounds meant.  He knew trouble was close and he was ready to get you both out of there.  Selfishly you wished that was what would happen, that you and Copia would jump onto Brizio and ride away from whatever trouble was nearby.  You met Copia’s gaze when he turned away from the path you had taken into the little clearing of trees.

“Is that…?”

More gunshots echoed from the way you came and Copia grabbed your waist to help you get off of him.  You quickly began to do up your shirt as he grabbed his coat and threw it on.  He was on Brizio in a second, his hand reaching down to help you get up behind him.

“Hold on tight.”

You did just that, snaking your arms and clasping your hands together around his waist as Brizio shot off down the path.  Your heart was racing as fear started to take a hold of you.  What would you be riding back to?  How many of Saltarian’s men were out there?  Were any of the Ghouls hurt?

Copia covered your hands with one of his own and squeezed them, doing his best to reassure you that everything would be alright.  As you got closer to where you had camped the night before the gunshots lessened until finally you had crested the hill and the camp was in sight.  You were tentatively looking over Copia’s shoulder, worried at what you might see.  Copia himself was tense but not as tense as you had expected so that alone helped ease your worry a bit. 

If he wasn’t going in guns blazing you would trust that everything was alright.

As you got closer there were a few bodies on the ground and you had to turn your head away.  It wasn’t something you were used to seeing just yet but at least they weren’t wearing any clothes you recognized.  Copia pulled back on Brizio’s reins as you reached the others.  Mountain strode over to help you down and despite a streak of blood down the side of his face he seemed unharmed.

“Well, well, well.  Look who decided to show up.”

“Shut up Dewdrop.”  You rushed over to the smoldering campfire to see Aether leaning over Dew, his hands red with blood.  “Stay still, damn it.”

“Is he ok?”  

You dropped to your knees on the other side of Dew, wincing when you saw the blood spreading on his right thigh.

“He’s fine, just got grazed.” 

“Fine?!  Speak for yourself, this fucking hurts.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t been shot before.”  Aether grabbed the torn part of Dewdrop’s pants and tugged at the fabric, ripping it open so he could see the wound better.  He shoved at one of Dew’s hands when the Ghoul tried to push Aether away.  “Knock it off.”

You looked up when a shadow fell over the three of you, Sunshine offering you a reassuring smile before she knelt down next to you.

“How’s the patient?”

“I’m bleeding out.”  Dew hissed when Aether prodded at the wound.  “Unholy fuck, what are you doing to me?!”

“Will you two hold him down please?”

Sunshine moved around so she was at Dew’s back and slid her arms around his chest to keep his arms immobile.  When Aether nodded towards Dew’s other leg you placed your hands down on it to try and keep it still.  He was still twitching and hissing as Aether checked the wound over but he quieted down when Copia came over to hold his ankles.

“Anyone else get hurt?”

“Mountain and Rain came back with some scrapes but otherwise Dew got the worst of it.”  Copia nodded and muttered something in Italian under his breath when Dew tried to wriggle away.  “Hold still, I need to stitch you up.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Maybe you should move out of the way faster next time to avoid getting shot.”

Sunshine’s voice had a teasing lilt to it but you could tell by the tightness of her features that she was putting on a bit of an act.

“Maybe you should go fuck yourself.  I only got this because I pushed you out of the way!” 

You bit back a smile as they continued to banter, your eyes watching Aether stitch up the wound on Dew’s leg.  Aether caught your eyes and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Stick around Princess and you’ll be helping me patch everyone up in no time.”  

“I think I will.”  Copia and Aether looked your way so you grinned back at them.  “Stick around.  And helping.”

Copia reached over and tucked some of your hair back behind your ear, a dopey smile on his face.

“Ugh, fucking kill me.”  You snorted when you looked away from Copia, blushing a bit when you noticed the three Ghouls watching you.  Dewdrop was making a disgusted face and he dropped his head back against Sunshine’s chest.  “Seriously I’d rather bleed out than watch the lovebirds any more.”

“Sorry buddy, you’re not gonna die on us today.”  Aether tied off the final stitch and sat back to admire his work.  “Let’s get it wrapped up and then get you on your feet.”

Copia took one of your hands and helped pull you to your feet as he rose.  He didn’t let go, instead tugging you closer so you were pressed into his side.

“We need to get packed up and get out of here.”  

He kissed your forehead before turning to look out towards where Mountain, Rain and Swiss were working on getting the bodies of Saltarian’s men gathered.  

“Do you think there are more of them?”

His hand squeezing yours was all the answer you needed.  Of course there were more.  You took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down while your mind raced with the thought of how many others might be sent to get you.  

“Hey, look at me.”  Copia gripped your chin gently and forced your head up.  You were a bit embarrassed at the tears that had been forming in your eyes but he just smiled at you and kissed your nose.  “What did I promise you?

“That you’d keep me safe.”

“SÌ.  I keep my promises, Principessa.”

With a few more kisses he helped ease your worries and you let yourself lean against him.  Letting him take your weight a bit as you soaked in the feeling of being safe in his arms.  Whatever the road to the casino brought you knew he would be there and you knew he would do everything he could to keep you safe.  

Everything would be ok as long as he was with you.

The arrival at The Ministry was rushed.

You barely had time to take in the town around it before the large building was looming in front of you.  Oil lamps were lit up and down the street as well as inside the businesses that lined it as the sun began to set.  Copia had directed you to wear the hat Ethel had given you and Sunshine had thrown her coat over you.  You weren’t sure what the point was because you doubted anyone in this town wouldn’t recognize Copia and his Ghouls but you let them do whatever they felt was necessary.

Behind the casino were the stables and another building, this one much smaller.  You dismounted with everyone else and looked around trying to take everything in.  A few men wandered out of the stable and exchanged words with Copia before they started to get the horses inside.  Everyone started taking their bags and other belongings off the horses before they began to wander towards the smaller building.

“That’s where we stay.”  You jumped a bit at Sunshine’s voice, glancing at her when she stopped right next to you.  “The Ghoul dorms.  That’s home.”

“It’s…nice?”

She snorted, shaking her head as she threw an arm over your shoulder.  Dewdrop and Swiss wandered by on your other side, the larger Ghoul helping his friend limp along.

“It ain’t much but it’s a roof and I don’t have to share a room.”  She threw you a wink before pulling you along a little faster.  “Unless I want to.”

“Will I be staying here too?”

“Oh shit yeah, we gotta keep you close.  Hey boss!”  You turned to see Copia jogging your way, his bags slung over his shoulders and his rifle in his hands.  “Where should I put her?”

“My room.”  It was Copia’s turn to wink at you and your face heated up immediately.  “I need to drop my stuff off and then go find Secondo.”

It was busier inside than you had expected.  People that you assumed were Ghouls as well greeting everyone as they went inside.  Swiss was nearly tackled by a smaller woman and she squealed when he lifted her up to swing her around.

“That’s Aurora.”  Sunshine pointed at the woman and then started pointing at various others that were around, rattling off names you had no hope of remembering just yet.  “You’ll meet Cumulus and Cirrus later, they’re probably performing right now.”

“Do you perform?”

“Only if Secondo asks nicely.”  Your nerves came back at the sound of his name.  You were getting more and more scared thinking about meeting him, wondering how he would react to you.  “Hey, don’t worry about him.  He’s more bark than bite.”

“What about Terzo?  Will I meet him too?”

“Not if I can help it.”  Copia’s voice was dark at the mention of his brother but you could see Sunshine trying to hide a grin.  “Come on, Principessa.  Follow me.”

Sunshine gave your shoulder a squeeze before wandering off and dumping her bags on a nearby table.  You tried to look around as much as you could while Copia directed you up some stairs and down a hallway.  He stopped at a door at the end, shoving a key into the lock before pushing it open and leading you inside.

His room was a lot nicer than you had expected, although it was messy.  The unmade bed in the corner was bigger than the one you shared at Ethel’s.  Thinking about sharing a bed again had you blushing once more so you quickly looked around at the rest of the space.  There were two doors open that led onto a small balcony and when you walked closer you could see another street full of people milling around as the night darkened.

Other than that there was a dresser and a few small tables.  All of which were covered with weaponry of some sort.  Guns, knives and bullets spread over every surface.  As you wandered closer to the large dresser he had you saw a few little trinkets and while you were tempted to poke around you didn’t want to pry into his things too much.  This was definitely his space and you were a stranger here.

“Principessa?”  You startled at his voice, spinning to find him right behind you with a grin on his face.  “What do you think?”

“It’s nice.”  He slid an arm around your waist and brought you closer, his eyes focusing on your lips.  “Nicer than I expected.”

“Hmm, should I be offended?”

“No, no.  It’s just not as bare as I thought it would be.”

“Ah, well perhaps it could use a woman’s touch, eh?”  You rolled your eyes when he pressed you back against his dresser.  It reminded you of that moment at Ethel’s when you had kissed for the first time.  “There’s something else that could use a woman’s touch too.”

“Oh?  And what would that b–”

“Fratellino!”

It was Copia’s turn to startle and he quickly shoved you behind him as he turned towards the door.  There was a man leaning against the frame, a smirk that was even more infuriating than the ones Copia used to give you on his face.  If the smirk didn’t give him away as one of Copia’s brothers the eyes definitely did.  Otherwise he couldn’t look more different, his hair was dark, nearly black.  His clothes were a lot nicer too.  His ensemble was mostly black besides a dark purple waistcoat.  Your eyes were also drawn to the shiny star pinned on his chest.

“Terzo.  Get the fuck out.”

“Ah, Copia.  You don’t mean that.”  He wandered into the room, still smirking as his eyes didn’t leave you and Copia.  “Won’t you at least introduce me to your bella amica?”

“No.  Fuck off.”

“Well I suppose there’s no point in introductions.  We all know who she is.”  Terzo threw you a wink before wandering over to Copia’s bed and sitting on the edge.  You couldn’t help but stare at him, your eyes looking over his bare face wondering if he ever wore makeup like Copia did.  “See anything you like, bella?”

“Not really.”  

Copia snorted, squeezing your waist briefly before letting you go to walk closer to his brother.

“I can already see you two are a good match.”

“What do you want, Terzo?”  Copia had his hands on his hips as he stared down at his brother.  “We just got here.”

“SÌ, I know.  It wasn’t hard to miss your arrival.”  Terzo’s face lost its teasing edge for a moment while he considered his brother.  “Secondo wants to see you.”

“He can fuck off too.”

“No fratellino, you need to talk to him.  There have been some…developments since we sent Cirrus your way.”  

You started nervously fiddling with your shirt as the two spoke, feeling as if you were listening in to a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear.

“I think we ran into some of those developments on the way here.  A band of Saltarian’s men attacked us.”  Copia turned to walk back over to you but Terzo shot his hand out and grabbed his wrist to stop him.  “Che cosa?”

“You’re lucky you only ran into one group of them, there are a lot more and they’re all looking for her.”

You could see Copia bite his lip as he thought over Terzo’s words.  The worry lines on his face deepened as well and it took a lot of your self control not to wander over and try to smooth them out with your fingers.  Copia looked up and caught your gaze.  It bothered you that he didn’t even try to give you a reassuring look.

“Fine.  Let’s go.”

“How about I stay here and get to know your lady, hmm?”  Terzo grunted when Copia grabbed his vest and yanked him off the bed.  “Okay!  Lucifer’s balls, you need to lighten up, fratellino.”

Copia shoved him towards the door, watching as he wandered out with one final wink being sent your way.  You watched as Copia stared at the door, the only thing moving was his chest as he breathed.

“Copia?”

“Stay here.”  His voice was rough, similar to how he talked to you when you first met.  You winced at the memory but he quickly spun towards you and held his hands up.  “Per favore.”

“Am I safe here?”

“SÌ!  SÌ, you are safe here I promise you.”  He quickly moved back in front of you and cradled your head in his hands.  “I don’t want you on your own just yet.  Until I know what’s going on.”

You nodded, closing your eyes when he pressed a few kisses into your forehead.  When he pulled away you looked at him, trying to offer him a reassuring smile but knowing it wasn’t really working.  He kissed it away, his lips soft against yours.  It was easy to get lost in him, to focus on this moment right now and not what might happen in the future.  You were embarrassed at how your fingers clutched at his shirt when he backed away.

“I’m sorry.  I just…”

“I know, Principessa.”  He took your hands and rubbed his thumbs along the back of them before bringing them up so he could kiss along the pads of your fingers.  “I’m worried too.  Just stay here.  Lock the door behind me, yeah?”

“Okie dokie.”

He smiled, moving in for a fierce kiss on your mouth before quickly pulling away and heading out the door.  You followed him slowly, watching as he headed down the hall and down the stairs.  With a deep breath you finally closed it, turning the lock firmly and then leaning your head against the wood.

At this point you weren’t sure who you should pray to but you decided to say one to whoever might be listening that everything would be ok.

The lure of having a bed to sleep in was too much to resist.

It felt weird to poke around his room when he wasn’t there so at first you just looked out his balcony doors.  The city was still alive with people even at how late the hour had become.  You found yourself imagining what each person’s life was like as they passed along the street below.  It was so different from where you were from, so different from what you were used to.  You couldn’t help but imagine yourself living here, thinking about what you might do every day.

Thinking about sharing a life with Copia.

You turned to stare at the door to his room, wondering what was taking him so long.  It had been hours at this point and your anxiety was high imagining what Copia and Secondo might be talking about.  There was no doubt in your mind that they were talking about you but what did that involve?  What had really happened while Saltarian had come here?  You shook your head like that action alone would make your worries leave.

There was so much happening, so much to deal with, that it was overwhelming for you.  It had to be even worse for Copia.  You wished you knew what was going through his head, what he felt like his options were.  Saltarian wouldn’t give him the ransom money without also having you in his possession.  You clenched your hands into fists at that thought.  At how men like your father and Saltarian treated you.  Like a thing someone could own, like a trinket to be put on display.  You didn’t belong to anyone.

But you did belong with Copia, that you knew.  That was something you could feel in your heart.  You felt it every time he looked at you.  Even when it was that smug smile of his, even when he was teasing you.  You felt it when he touched you, when he kissed you.  Your only hope was that Copia felt the same.

With a heavy sigh you turned towards his bed, deciding that it would be best to try to get some sleep rather than let your worries take over.  You slipped your shoes and pants off before crawling in under the covers.  They were a lot softer than you had expected, much more comfortable than the horse blankets you had become used to.  Your eyes quickly grew heavy, your mind finally quieting from all your fretting.  You fell asleep to the thought of sharing this bed with Copia for many days to come.

The room was bathed in morning light when you woke up again.

There was a slight chill so you found yourself pressing harder against the warm body next to you.  Copia had finally come back a few hours after you had climbed into bed.  He had stayed quiet, just wrapped his arms around you and held you close.  His grip had remained tight throughout the early morning hours, like he was afraid you’d get up and leave if he let go.  Your hold on him was equally strong, using him as a shield against your worries.

“You awake, Principessa?”

Instead of answering you turned in his arms and buried your face against him.  The dark hair that covered his chest tickled your nose but you stayed still, daring to press a kiss right over the strange tattoo he had.  His chest rumbled beneath your lips and in a quick move he rolled so that you were laying under him, his body effectively pinning you onto the bed.

You expected him to tease you but instead of talking his lips immediately were on yours, his tongue pressing against them and demanding entrance.  With a soft groan you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his.  Copia angled his head and deepened the kiss even more, like he was starving and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

The memory of what he had said after his apology creeped into your mind, of how he had promised to make you his when he had you in a bed again.  It made you feel bold, he made you feel bold, so you shoved your fingers into his hair and wrapped a leg around his waist.  He ground down against you and a much louder groan left you when you felt how hard he was.  It pressed insistently against you, right where you needed him the most.  When Copia suddenly pulled away you cried out, trying to use your leg to keep him close.

“Copia, please.  You sa–”

“I know, I know.”  Copia dropped his head into the crook of your neck and you could hear him mumble something in Italian before he pulled up to look into your eyes.  “You are a temptress.”

“Is it working?”  You weren’t sure when you had become so bold but it was probably somewhere between the farmhouse and the casino.  Copia cursed under his breath when you lifted your head up to kiss him along his jaw.  “You have me in a bed, in your bed.”

“Do I?  I hadn’t noticed.”  With a grunt he pressed against you once more, pushing you down into the bedding.  “Was there something you needed, Principessa?”

“You.”

His eyes darkened and with a quick move he had you flipped so you were sprawled on top of him.  One of his hands was in your hair, his mouth already on yours again.  His other hand slid down your back until it stopped on your ass, gripping the flesh tightly and holding you still.  You moaned when he spread his legs open and you felt his hardness between your legs again.  It was straining against his pants and you wiggled against it, gasping into his mouth when you felt it twitch.  He tugged on your hair, pulling you away from his mouth and then turning you so you were both on your sides facing each other.

“I knew I should have slept on the floor.”  He chuckled when you tried to pinch his side, easily grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss your palm.  “Mi dispiace, Principessa.  You’ll have to wait a bit longer for me.”

“What?”  You pulled away when he tried to kiss you.  “Why?”

“I need to leave.  And soon.”

Your heart sank and you put your hands on his chest to put some distance between you both.

“Leave?  Leave where?”  

“Those men we ran into yesterday, that wasn’t the only group of them lurking around.”  When you didn’t budge he sighed and rolled over onto his back.  “Secondo said there were more of them north of town.”

“Then why are you leaving?  Shouldn’t you stay here?”

“You know why.”  Copia’s eyes were soft when he turned to look at you.  He reached over slowly to cup your cheek.  “I have to keep you safe.”

“I feel safest when I’m with you, Copia.”  

“You will be safe here, I promise.”  He started stroking his thumb back and forth along your cheek.  “Sunshine and Aether will be here.”

Your eyes widened briefly, surprised he wouldn’t want to take them along but also a little grateful that you’d have people you knew nearby.  You bit your lip and scooted closer to him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Hopefully not long, two days at the most I think.”  His hand on your cheek slid back into your hair and he rubbed his fingers along your scalp.  “Stick with Sunshine, she’ll keep you safe.”

“And what about you?  Who will keep you safe?”  

Copia laughed, the sound doing wonders to calm your nerves.  He moved his hand and his fingers started tracing the chain of his grucifix that you still wore. 

“Brizio.”  You couldn’t help but laugh yourself, shaking your head against his shoulder.  After a moment you moved so you could kiss his skin.  Pressing your lips onto every freckle you could.  “You’re making it very hard for me to leave, Principessa.”

“Good.”

Copia turned again and easily wrapped you up in his arms, holding you close against his chest once more.  Tears started to form in your eyes but you squeezed them shut as hard as you could, not wanting him to see how upset you were.  You trusted him to stay safe, you trusted whoever he took with him to keep him safe too.  

“Stay in here or stay with Sunshine.  Avoid Secondo, eh?”

“I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Trust me, you’ll know him when you see him.”  

You huffed against his skin, your nerves spiking while you wondered why you needed to stay away from him at all. 

“What about Terzo?”

“Don’t you worry about him.”  Copia touched your chin and tilted your head up so he could give you a brief kiss before leaning back and grinning.  “I’m taking that stronzo with me.”

Sunshine refused to let you mope in Copia’s room.

A few hours after he left she showed up at your door, a wide grin on her face.  The Ghoulette didn’t give you any other option besides going with her so you reluctantly left the safety of Copia’s room and tagged along.  The first place you stopped at was a room further down the hall and you could already hear Dewdrop’s grumbling before Sunshine even opened the door.  Aether was in there as well, quietly checking on the stitches he had put in the day before.

After a few minutes of Sunshine needling Dew Aether practically shoved the both of you out.  Sunshine took you around the halls above the common area, pointing out who stayed where.  You had no hope of remembering where everyone’s rooms were, except Copia’s at least.  But it was fun to see where everyone lived regardless.  

You had hoped to meet Aurora and Cirrus but they had gone with Copia and the others.  Sunshine mentioned that Secondo hadn’t been very happy when he found out but honestly it didn’t seem like Secondo was happy about a lot of things.  You had so many questions about him, and Terzo, on the tip of your tongue but you decided to keep them to yourself for now.  Copia would probably be the better person to ask anyway.

The day progressed slowly, which did little to ease your worries.  Sunshine did her best to keep you occupied and you even went back to see Aether for a bit.  He helped you redo some of Dew’s stitches when the Ghoul had decided to ignore the fact that he was supposed to stay still.  Aether seemed pleased with your work and even Dew was relatively quiet while you finished tying them off.  It made you feel good being able to contribute in some way.

It made you feel like you had a place here.

As the day wore on you could tell Sunshine was getting a little bored of babysitting.  She also seemed on edge so you imagined that she was also worried, just like you were.  It couldn’t be easy to be left behind when your friends were riding into danger.  Although friends almost didn’t seem like the best word anymore.  It was clear that Copia and his Ghouls had formed a family.  You only hoped that someday they would consider you a part of it as well.

When night fell you decided it would be best to head back to Copia’s room.  The common area where the Ghouls stayed was getting a little rowdy and Sunshine was fielding a lot of questions regarding your presence.  You had no reason to think any of them had ill intentions but it still made you nervous not having Copia at your side to help keep some of them at bay.  Sunshine pulled you into a hug when you started to head for the stairs and you found yourself leaning into your embrace.  

Perhaps you were already considered family.

The hall towards Copia’s room was quiet but you still found yourself taking careful steps along the wood.  When you got inside you turned and gently closed the door, leaning your forehead against it for a moment and taking a few deep breaths.  You weren’t looking forward to a night alone but hopefully Copia would be back in the morning. 

“So you’re Copia’s Principessa.”

At the sound of the deep voice behind you your blood seemed to freeze.  Slowly you turned, knowing that behind you was the one person you were most nervous to meet.  He stood in the middle of the room, a much taller figure than you had expected.  Again you were struck by the differences between him and his brothers but there was no mistaking what the different colored eyes symbolized.

There was no doubt that this was Secondo Emeritus.

“I-yes.  Yes.”  You winced when your voice cracked, knowing that he was probably the type of guy that quickly cataloged every little reaction people had around him.  “Is Copia ok?”

“I would imagine so considering there’s nothing out there for him to find.”

“What?”  You pressed your back against the door.  It felt like you needed as much distance as possible from this man but you had no idea why.  “I thought there were more of Saltarian’s men?”

“I have no doubt that there are, but they aren’t in the direction I sent him.”  His voice was calm, almost bored as he spoke.  “But it was an easy way to separate him from you.  I knew he wouldn’t sit idly by if he was worried for your safety.”

“Why did you need to separate us?”

“Because I need to talk with you one on one without mio fratellino interfering.”  Secondo took a few steps towards you making you wish you had more room to back up.  “Because I need you gone before he gets back.”

“Gone?”

He snorted, shaking his head in annoyance at your question.  You were sure that to him you were just some stupid city girl, much like how Copia originally thought of you.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?”

A flash of anger flared inside of you and you took a step towards him, feeling a moment of bravery.

“What I’ve done?  Copia is the one that kidnapped me!”

“I’m aware of that but it seems circumstances have changed, don’t you agree?”  He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared you down.  “From what I’ve been told you two have gotten…close.”

“That’s none of your business.”

With a snarl Secondo moved towards you and you once more felt the door against your back.

“No, Principessa, it is my business.  Copia’s idiotic plan has put my livelihood at risk.  It has put my family at risk.  And for what?  An easy fuck with some stupid girl.”

“It’s not just…we haven’t…”  You stopped, unable and unwilling to finish what you were going to say.  “He cares about me.”

“Does he?  Or does he just care about what you can get him?”  Secondo laughed when you didn’t answer right away.  “I’ve known him a lot longer than you have.  I know what motivates him, I know why he does what he does.”

Your mind was racing, trying to cling to every moment you and Copia had shared.  What Secondo was implying wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true.  You refused to give in to those thoughts. 

“I don’t think you know him at all.”

“Think whatever you like, it doesn’t matter.  Whatever you think is going on between you two is over.  You need to leave.”

“No!  I’m not leaving him.”

“Let me ask you this, do you care about him?”

“I…”  You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders, refusing to look scared in front of him.  “I love him.”

“Then you have to leave.”  Secondo held up a hand when you opened your mouth, stopping you from arguing with him.  “Saltarian was here, as I’m sure you heard.  He’s decided to use your kidnapping as a way to destroy us once and for all.”

“How?”

“You’re more than a business pawn to him now.  You’re a way for him to be rid of the Church of Emeritus forever.  He’s going to keep sending men after Copia, after you, and he doesn’t care if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll blame it on Copia, on our church that barely exists anymore.  He’ll use it as an excuse to burn everything we’ve rebuilt.”  Secondo seemed to deflate a bit, his shoulders sagging under some invisible weight.  “He’ll kill us all.”

“And if I go?”

“He agreed that if I could get you to him he would leave us be.”  He let out a humorless laugh and looked around Copia’s room.  “Unless provoked.”

“Copia will come after me.”

“Then you’ll have to convince him not to.”  He pointed over to a small table against the wall and you saw a pen sticking out of an ink well.  It was obvious he’d brought it with him.  “Write him a letter, tell him you’d rather be with Saltarian.”

“He won’t believe me!”

“I’m not going to let you destroy what has taken me a decade to build.  I don’t care what you write, whatever it takes to make him think you don’t want him anymore.”

You sagged against the door, gripping the handle to keep yourself from falling onto the floor.  Tears were streaming down your face but you didn’t bother wiping them off.  Your hand came up to your chest and you clutched at the grucifix from where it was hiding under your shirt.

“Please, I don’t want to go.”

“What did you actually think would happen here?  Did you think you’d find a job dealing cards or serving drinks?”  Secondo took a few steps closer, towering over you.  “Can you sing?  Can you dance?”

“No, bu–”

“You don’t belong here, girl.  With Copia or with us.  Stop fooling yourself if you think he feels the same way about you.”  He held a hand out then and you stared at the worn black leather glove that covered it.  “If you love him you need to leave.”

“When?”

“Now.  They will be back in the morning I’m sure.”  

You nodded, pressing your hands against the floor to push yourself back up, refusing to accept his help.  

“Where should I go?”

“South, the road you came in on.”  You felt his eyes on you as you wandered over to the table, your hands trembling as you picked up the pen and held it above the paper he had left there.  “There will be men waiting to take you to Saltarian.”

“And Copia?”

Secondo already had his hand on the door handle but he turned towards you when you spoke.  

“What about him?”

“Will he…will he be ok?”  

Would he be safe?  Would Saltarian leave him alone, would he leave all of you alone? 

Would he miss you?

Secondo spent a few moments watching you, his face set in stone.  

“He’ll get over it.”

The ‘over you’ was obvious so you just nodded, turning away from him to stare down at the blank sheet of paper.  More tears were falling and you didn’t want Secondo to see them.  You gripped the grucifix again, tracing the stones with your thumb through the fabric of your shirt.  When the door closed behind you it was as if all the strength left your body and you fell to your knees to weep for the life you almost had.

Copia wanted to go home.

Although he wasn’t sure if he had ever felt like The Ministry was home.  It was just someplace to keep what few things he owned.  To gather with the Ghouls and to plan whatever scheme against Saltarian he came up with next.  The main reason he wanted to get off the fucking road and go back there was you.  He was pissed that he had left you but Secondo hadn’t given him much of a choice.  

The conversation with his brothers hadn’t gone well.  Like Copia expected, Secondo was pissed over the kidnapping.  But he had never felt the fire Copia did to get revenge on Saltarian.  He had never understood why Copia had dedicated the last ten years to taking him down.  It was so close to being over with though, Copia was so close to feeling peace for the first time in so long.  His soul ached for it.

Just like it ached for you.

He glanced around the campfire, irritated that Terzo had insisted on stopping for the night.  There hadn’t been a damn sign of any of Saltarian’s men.  Rain had rode ahead countless times but each time he had come back with nothing.  Not a single sign that any men had been around those parts recently.  That fact was eating at Copia, a feeling he couldn’t shake and it kept getting worse as the hours wore on.

“Sunshine’ll take care of her boss.  She’ll be fine.”

Copia nodded towards Swiss, appreciating the Ghoul trying to reassure him.  It wasn’t too long ago that a moment like this would have made him feel weak.  That his feelings towards you would have made him feel weak.  All of that had been changing though, especially since leaving Ethel’s.  You had carved a place for yourself inside of his chest.  He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself picture you in his bed in nothing but a baggy shirt and his grucifix laying over your heart.

Fuck this.

He stood up and grabbed his blanket off the ground, throwing it over his shoulder as he picked up what little else he had around him.

“Boss?”

“I’m leaving.”  

Copia stepped over Swiss’s legs to make his way over to Brizio but he stopped at the sound of Terzo’s voice.

“You seem impatient fratellino, is there somewhere else you’d rather be right now?”  Terzo grinned when Copia shot him a look.  “Or maybe it’s someone you’d rather be with?  I can’t say I blame you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Salty’s fiancé.  I can see why you stayed away for so long.”

“We stayed away because you told us to.”

“Oh that was Secondo, I didn’t really give a fuck.”  Terzo laughed at Copia’s irritated face.  “Che cosa?  A little excitement never hurt anyone.”

“The only excitement you seem to enjoy anymore takes place in a bed.”

“Or a couch, a chair, a table…I’m not picky.”  Copia just rolled his eyes and started moving towards his horse again, only stopping when Terzo stood up and went after him.  “This girl, your ‘Principessa’, she’s very beautiful.”

“Is she?” 

Copia stayed absolutely still as he waited for Terzo to continue.  The chatter from the Ghouls around them had stopped, everyone seeming to be waiting to see where Terzo was going with this.

“Don’t play coy, she’s exactly the type of girl you always go for.”

“I’m not ‘going’ for her.  She’s here for a specific purpose, that’s all.”

“Really?  I could have sworn there was something else going on between you both.”  Copia stayed quiet, unwilling to play whatever game Terzo wanted to start.  His brother grinned when Copia didn’t immediately take the bait.  “In that case you won’t mind if she and I become better acquainted, will you?”

Copia heard one of the Ghouls mutter ‘oh fuck’ but it was quiet enough he couldn’t pinpoint who.  He turned so he was facing Terzo head on, he had an infuriating smile on his face and it just seemed to grow as he watched Copia’s reaction.

“Mi scusi?”

“I just figured there will be a few days before we can set up a rendezvous with Saltarian’s men so what’s the harm if she and I have some fun?”  Terzo laughed when Copia grabbed the front of his shirt.  “What’s the problem?”

“You don’t get to touch her.”

“And what if I do?  What if I touch her just how she wants and she makes some pretty noises for me?”  Terzo ignored every warning sign he had ever learned about his younger brother and kept going.  “What if she chooses m—cazzo!”

Copia’s fist was swift and powerful when it landed on Terzo’s chin.  The crack echoed around the small camp followed by the sounds of more blows landing.  He was like a man possessed as he shoved Terzo onto his back and slammed his fist into his face again and again.  Swiss and Mountain rushed over, grabbing at Copia’s arms but he shoved them away, snarling something dark when Terzo laughed.  Swiss finally shoved his entire body into Copia’s side and managed to knock him over.

“Belial, Copia stop!” 

“Get off me!”  Copia was wild as he tried to get his friend off of him.  “I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Awfully testy over a bargaining chip, fratellino!”  

Terzo’s taunting words just had Copia fighting harder and Cirrus came over to try to help keep him on the ground.

“Satan’s dick Terzo, just shut the fuck up.”

The man just flashed Cirrus a bloodstained grin before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“I just wanted to see if I was right or not.”

Copia stopped fighting for a moment, lifting his head off the ground to look at his brother.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I told Secondo you had fallen for this girl.  I could tell.”

“Why does it matter?”  

Swiss and Cirrus let Copia sit up, staying close in case he went after his brother again.  

“Well it changes things, doesn’t it?  If you like her.”

Copia was silent because Terzo was right, it did change things.  He hadn’t wanted to think about how his plan would have to change after his feelings for you did.  Mostly he just wanted to get to the casino, to get you someplace safe, before he worried about anything else.  

Before he told you how he really felt.

There was something about the look on Terzo’s face that worried him.  A look that always seemed to precede bad news ever since they were kids.

“What did you do?”

“Well again, this was mostly Sec–”

“Terzo what the fuck did you do?!”

His hand was shaking as he held your note.

The grucifix was in his other hand, the stones glittering in the morning light.  He had been reading your words over and over, trying to absorb them.  Trying to get them to make some sort of sense but his brain refused to work.  It was like his entire body had shut down.  Thanks to Terzo he knew that you had written it under Secondo’s direction but it still hurt.  It hurt to see you write that you didn’t want to be with him, that you felt your life would be better with Saltarian.

Even if you didn’t mean it, he was determined now to prove you wrong.

“Let her go, Copia.”

He crumpled the note in his hand as he turned to glare at Secondo.  Copia could feel the bite from the chain of his grucifix even through his glove.  

“Fuck you.”

Secondo narrowed his eyes while he took a few steps towards him.  When he saw Copia’s hand drift towards his gun belt he stopped and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Really?  Over some stupid girl?”  He shook his head as he looked his brother over, his eyes finally falling on the grucifix.  “Don’t tell me you gave that to her.”

“What I do is none of your fucking concern, fratello.”  Copia started towards the door, shoving the grucifix in his pocket and dropping the note.  Secondo grabbed his arm as he attempted to pass him and Copia shoved him back with a snarl.  “Touch me again and you’ll regret it.”

“You and Terzo are both fools.  Giving something like that to any pretty face willing to share your bed.”  

Behind Secondo Copia could see Sunshine and Swiss waiting in the hallway, the both of them ready to follow Copia wherever he went.  

“Where did she go?”

“Where she belongs!”

Copia shook his head and moved past his brother again, nodding at Sunshine and Swiss as he went by.  He could hear their footsteps close behind him and when he got to the bottom of the steps he was happy to see the rest of his Ghouls ready to go as well.

“Rain and Mountain already headed out to find her trail.”  Sunshine’s voice was tight with worry behind him and he turned to meet her eyes.  “Copia I’m sor–”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault.”  She nodded but didn’t look very convinced.  He turned to see Aether arguing with Dewdrop, probably trying to convince the man he shouldn’t be riding with his wound.  Right now Copia didn’t care, who knew where you were at this point?  He needed all the help he could get.  “You two get the horses ready.”

They quickly headed out the door and Copia was left in the common room with Sunshine and Swiss.  He stiffened when the stairs started creaking behind him as Secondo followed them down.

“If you go after her you doom us all.”

“We’re already doomed.  If you think Saltarian wouldn’t eventually come after us you’re a fool.”

“What makes this girl worth it?  Why are you willing to risk your life, to risk all of our lives for her?”

Copia turned to stare at his brother, feeling the eyes of the other Ghouls on him.  He was sure now.  Sure about how he felt for you.  Sure that you were his and that he was yours.  

Sure that he would kill anyone that hurt you.

“Because I love her.”

Go to Chapter 12: Diavolessa

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