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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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Title: Sugar Rush

Summary:

Marley brings the celebration of Halloween to Paradis. Hange and Levi go trick or treating with their child for the first time and start to realize how much the world has changed since the war.

A Halloween piece for the Levihan spookfest, one year late. (I hope you’re still accepting them.)

Written for @levihanweek. to cap off Levihan Angstober. Happy Halloween everyone!

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: For people who read "Rough day," this domestic fluff piece is set in the same universe. I just wanted to contribute a Halloween piece for the Levihan Spookfest. I am one year late though.

"Happy Halloween!" Hange chimed as she entered the kitchen and plopped her already dolled up kid down on the table next to her.

"So what are the tacky decorations and costumes for?"

Hange was wearing a full body suit of the colossal titan while Luke, their five year old child was wearing a mini armored titan costume. A part of Levi wondered how people of Paradis had so easily forgotten the attack of Shiganshina that titan costumes existed and were actually being sold. He had seen a few people in titan suits on the way to the market just that morning.

"These are all to scare away the spirits!" Hange explained.

"Of dead people?"

"Of dead people."

"It would be nice to be visited by some ghosts. Wouldn't you want to see Erwin or maybe even Moblit again?" Levi had seen enough death in his life that the holiday which Marley introduced to them which was supposed to them did not seem as scary as the people were painting it out to be. The idea of the dead people visiting felt almost desirable for that hardened soldier one who'd seen too many people die.

"But daddy, ghosts are scary! They can kill you!" Luke said as he walked towards Levi.

What are they teaching this kid in school? "What if those ghosts were daddy's old friends? Do you think they’ll kill you?" Levi bent down to face his son only to see the boy looking utterly confused.

Levi only had to look back at how they raised him to understand why. Despite his parents background, the boy was raised with what they have considered too peaceful an upbringing. The closest thing to a blood bath he had seen was when Hange so enthusiastically pulled out his baby tooth just a few months ago. Levi was not sure though if the kid had been scared of the blood or the strong reaction of his mother.

"Levi, get dressed. It'll be our first trick or treat."

"I'm ready already." Levi walked to the balcony room where he had let his old survey corps cloak hang out to dry after thoroughly washing it.

"You're wearing that?" Hange asked, raising one eyebrow in disappointment. "Isn't that a bit too lazy?"

"Let me try out this new festival of yours and if it's any fun maybe I'll try harder next time."

Levi and Hange both lived towards the center of Paradis since Hange was closely working with the government to help the island catch up to its peers. They had agreed to use the holiday as an excuse to see parts of the new Paradis they had not seen in a while, having rented a space in the outskirts for a few days. Hange had seen her fair share since she was back and forth from the ports and the center due to work. Levi on the other hand barely visited the outer cities, having spent his time keeping the household running and raising Luke while Hange worked full-time.

They made the thirty minute walk to the outskirts where Hange concluded was the start to the most time efficient route with the highest possible yield of candy, that looped all the way back to their rented bungalow.

It turned out the strategy of the former commander had been almost foolproof. One kilometer in and Luke's bag was almost half full.

"Hey man, your survey corps costume looks pretty good!"

Levi looked to the voice behind him to see a teenage boy in a titan costume.

"Did you make it yourself?" The teenage boy continued.

Levi looked to Hange as if to ask "Who made our costume?" In fact, Levi had just wanted to walk on, ignoring the teenage boy. It had been less than a decade since the end of the war. With the quick advancement of technology, it felt like more of a century ago to Levi. That instance only reminded him what people saw as a soldier uniform's long ago has been reduced to a costume prop.

"I did actually. What do you think?" Hange asked

It was a blatant lie.Technically though she did design the new uniform when the war against Marley started. Levi thought to himself.

"Well you got the colors of the wings of freedom wrong. The blue wing is on the right side not the left."

Sugar Rush

"Hey Hange, you should monitor how they make the survey corps costume. This is slightly pissing me off," Levi muttered as they started to get to the denser parts of town.

"Well, with a port to run and research to do, I don't really have time to monitor holiday costume designs."

Although there were many people in titan costumes, there were also a fair number of people donning the survey corps cloak, a few in garrison uniform, and fewer in the military police. Although the survey corps had a rocky start, towards the end of the war against Marley, they were painted to be the main hero, their stories told in bars, restaurants, wherever people would listen. It was only natural that clothing manufacturers got on wind with the popularity.

But they got it all wrong. Levi thought. He turned to Hange to see that she was just slightly amused at it.

As they walked on, they passed by a park where a group of kids in survey corps cloaks were playing.

"I'm Levi! Humanity's strongest soldier!" One kid said as he climbed on top of a rock.

Levi heard Hange chuckling behind her as he stopped to watch the play between the five kids unfold.

"No I wanna be Levi!" The smaller kid protested as he tried to pull the larger kid down from the rock.

"You can't be Levi! Levi is big and strong! Mommy and Daddy said so!"

Levi did not know who mommy and daddy were but he found himself interested enough to approach the group of kids. At first, they looked almost terrified to see an adult stranger approach. Levi made an effort to smile though which worked enough at least for them to stay put.

"Levi can be as tall or short as you want him to be." Levi patted the small kid's head then looked at all the kids. "Kids, make sure to take turns."

"It's okay! I'm Captain Erwin!"

"I'm Captain Hange!"

"I'm Captain Mike!"

It's Mee-keh not Maik. "That's good. Don't play too rough." Levi found himself struggling to keep the friendly smile. He walked away from them, quickening his pace with every step, trying to stop the urge to play cop and point out the inaccuracies in their casual game of soldier.

Erwin and Mike probably would not have minded those inaccuracies but something inside Levi protested the omission on his end.

"You're not going to correct them?" Hange said as he walked back at her.

"Erwin and Mike probably wouldn't have cared. Do you mind?"

"No. Not really. But humanity's strongest being big and tall..." Hange widened her eye in emphasis as she gave him a onceover from head to toe.

“Humanity's strongest might even like that.”

"Daddy did you meet captain Levi? Was he really big and tall?" Luke pulled on Levi's cloak as he asked.

"He can be as big and tall as you want him to be Luke."

Sugar Rush

"Tell me more about Captain Levi! Was he big? Tall? Was it weird that you were also Levi?"

Hange and Levi had allowed their son to eat a few candies that night. Levi was sure he had at least rationed it well to keep the child happy but prevent a sugar rush.

Maybe it was when he went to take off his cloak, wash it and leave it out to dry did Hange sneak him a few more candies in. As he looked inside the bag to see everything had been opened and half eaten, he was sure that that could have been the only explanation.

As Levi snuck a glance at Hange, he could tell she was regretting it. I told you a while ago a handful is enough.

“Where did you learn so much about this captain Levi figure?” Levi asked, humoring the young boy.

“The teacher tells stories about him. He was part of the Ackerman clan and he could destroy one hundred titans in one swoop.” Luke excitedly yet awkwardly swung his imaginary sword in the air and Levi could not help but note that he would have never swung his blades in that manner. “You and mommy were both soldiers right? Did you get to meet him?”

“A few times.”

“I told my friends in school that my parents were retired soldiers and they said that the soldiers were playing and eating inside the capital while the survey corps actually went outside and fought the enemy. I think you and mommy were different. Mommy would have done research right? While you were fighting the bad people in the walls right?”

“Maybe I was.” Levi turned to Hange for help. The latter was too busy rummaging through her kid’s bag for candy. Luke did not seem to notice or probably did not care, his eyes were fixed on his father and Levi wondered how long the kid had been keeping it in.

“How was Captain Levi?”

“He was a friendly guy.” Levi answered. He heard Hange snort next to him.

“Did he ever save you from titans?”

“A few times.”

“Then you must know what happened to him? Even our teacher doesn’t know!”

Sugar Rush

It was almost midnight. Only thirty minutes ago did Luke’s sugar rush die down. Soon after though, the young boy had fallen asleep and like on most other nights, Levi and Hange were left alone together. They were going through the pile of uneaten candy of their son, having decided that they had to eat what was left since they had no place to store it without risking an ant infestation.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Hange asked as she went back to the table. She had checked up on their son just a second ago, making sure she was asleep before she brought up the elephant in the room.

“Didn’t you hear the kid? If we told him where Captain Levi was, he was gonna tell all his friends. We can’t really trust a five year old kid to keep secrets just yet.”

“And you don’t want people to know where Captain Levi is,” Hange said matter of factly.

“I went for this type of life because I wanted peace.” Levi popped a half eaten chocolate in his mouth.

“Which explains why you wanted our kid to take up my name instead.”

“Ackerman never stuck. I’ve always been just Levi.”

Luke Zoe was the more conservative naming choice. Levi Ackerman had become a household name while the full name of the commander had been known only among those who did the research but her stories were not as blown up as that of the captain.

Oddly enough, their child had not picked up on both their first names being the same ones as those of the survey corps soldiers. Levi had attributed it to the fact that the boy spent most of his days with him while Hange was at work. The retired soldier had dedicated his time to other things like cleaning, housework, child rearing and tea mixing, having put his bloodier past behind him. The kid saw them as parents, not as the heroes he was hearing about in school.

I wanna meet a survey corps soldier! They sound so cool! You must know one! Bring me to one. I wanna thank them for their service! Ask them how they flew through the air. I wanna see how big and burly they are.

Or possibly, Luke already had expectations on what they looked like and Levi and Hange just did not fit the profile.

"Maybe we should buy him a mini survey corps cloak too. It feels weird that the survey corps played such a big part of our lives and we’re not even giving him that,” Hange suggested.

“And support shitty research. No way.” Levi rolled his eyes as he imagined the erroneous design of the wings of freedom insignia.

“As someone who has worked on research her whole life, I can sympathize.” Hange gave Levi a consoling smile. The cloak was last used more than fifteen years ago and the more recent designs had probably already overshadowed the one used back when the survey corps was still seen as inferior to the garrison and military police. “Hey, can you eat this gooey colorful one? It sticks to my teeth.”

“How much more do we have to eat?” Levi emptied the bag on the table. Luke had eaten half of every single candy in the bag

“Maybe your trick or treat route was just a little too strategic Hange.”

They did not sleep that night.

#levihan #levihanangstober #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihan spookfest #levi x hange #domestic fluff #happy ending for levi #fanfic

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lovesickjoon · 6 years ago

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bad religion - jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook/reader

rating: NSFW (18+)

genre: SMUT, hunter!reader au, kingofhell!jungkook (yes this was highkey inspired by spn)

words: 6.7k

desc.: it was a bad religion to fall for someone who could never love you. but, thankfully you hadn't fallen yet. and who knows? maybe he could learn how to love. or namjoon, your dumbass witchy friend ends up possessed by a demon. on halloween night, you make a deal with the devil to try and get him back.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, dom!jungkook, tiny bit of breathplay, possessive jungkook, probably forgetting something

notes: im sick so this is super unedited! also this is my p late submission for the BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #77 “You can’t sell me your soul, when you don’t have one to begin with.”

The warmth of Summer was long gone. The air felt sticky, despite the chilly breeze. The moon was abnormally bright, casting a silver glow upon the Earth. It was unsettling, being able to only see the moon, and not a single star. The inky clouds that occasionally floated in front of the hanging, luminous pearl, never once caused it to dim. Your stomach churns and twists in protests. Your subconscious continuously beckoned to you, begging for you to turn back. It had been a long drive to find the secluded crossroads, and it was too late to turn back.

You had parked your car several blocks away and were now on foot. Driving this far into the countryside was new to you. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to drive this far here again. It never failed, Namjoon always managed to fuck something up.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew this would work. It had taken hours of relentless searching to find the proper incantation. You had to dig through the witch's files for days before you found anything remotely close to what you needed.

Witchcraft was something you had promised yourself to avoid messing with. You always left it to Namjoon. You did the stabbing and he did the casting. You were on your own, and you were the only person willing to help your poor fuck up of a best friend.

You glanced around the road, eyeing the sides carefully. You gathered several decent sized rocks. You dropped the bag cautiously onto the dirt and kneeled. You adjusted each rock until they formed a somewhat circular shape. You drew each ingredient out of your bag and placed them in the middle of the circle, one by one. You grabbed a pebble and used it to sketch out the sigil into the dirt. You had to sketch delicately around the rock formation, the last thing you wanted was to mess up the ceremony.

Next, you brought out six onyx colored candles. You pulled the lighter from your jacket, the dirt crunching beneath your weight as you moved. The flame flickered to life, nearly fading out because of the howling wind. You lit the first candle, using your body to block the wind. The candles were specifically created for summoning. They endlessly burn, and are entirely unaffected by nature, unlike your lighter. You returned the lighter back to its place and used the one candle you had burning to light the others.

Next was the picture of you.

You pricked yourself with the needle, squeezing and massaging your finger to try and make the blood flow out easier. The drop landed directly onto the picture of you, and you felt more queasy than ever.

You cleared your throat, staring down at the dancing flames of the candles. The energy is already coursing through the pages, waiting to be unleashed. You can feel it humming through the thick leather. A shaky sigh escapes you when you tightly grasp the book and yank it from the confines of your bag. The book practically leaps into your arms and flings itself open. It violently splits open, the pages hastily whirl by on their own. It was as if the book had a mind of its own.

It seemed... eager... to be used.

The howling wind and the tossing of the grass seemed to still when the first words parted from your lips. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus. The words were familiar, you had repeated them to yourself for hours on end, trying to learn the spell. Though you spoke in broken Latin, you knew the words were transmitting. The text began to glow, and the book grew hotter with each sentence you finished.

The ground began to rumble, and you knew the creature was being torn from its throne. Your throat tightened, and you felt tears begin to poke from the corners of your eyes. It was so much worse being the individual to actually summon a demon. Rarely, when you were observing Namjoon complete a ritual, did you get sick. You always knew that, watching Namjoon get sick. You never realized entirely how sickening the process really was though. It was draining, mentally and physically. It felt as if you were right on the brink of death.

You choked out the last word and threw the book from your hands. The feeling of your skin sizzling and melting away made you hiss. You grabbed your arm, desperate to stop the pain. The book was entirely illuminated, glowing painfully bright. You wrench your eyes closed, the wind was roaring now, and you were convinced the entire planet was rocking back and forth.

Then it was calm.

The book dimmed, the candles simultaneously blew out, and the wind blew away the sketch in the dirt. Your picture was entirely singed, along with the ingredients. The rocks had sunk into the ground at some point during the ritual. The only thing that was left was burnt ashes. More importantly, your skin hadn't dissolved away. You stand and dust yourself off. You glance around, expecting to see someone standing around, watching you with curiosity.

You contemplated leaving, going and finding a place where you could have a couple of drinks... Or maybe a nest full of vamps you could stake.

Anything to get your mind off of this.

You pluck up the book and your bag. Everything felt different, but not in ways that you could name. It was such a slight shift in the atmosphere it was almost unnoticeable. For a fleeting moment, you worried if you had pronounced something wrong and unleashed something terrible out into the world.

You waited.

Unlike the person you were summoning, you were not immortal. You couldn't sit here and stare blankly at the sky until he showed up. At this rate, you were going to die before he arrived.

You persisted anyway.

You were determined to fix Namjoon's mess, even though he was the one to dig his own grave. You stood there like the ugly girl at prom, waiting for the guy who promised to be her date to show up.

"Sorry, I was running late. It's not often someone calls me directly from my throne."

You twirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try and turn. Features scrunching up in confusion, you examine the man head to toe. How the fuck had you managed to summon an angel? The dark, doe eyes twinkle in amusement, and he grins.

"What? Were you expecting my horns to be larger? I didn't want to frighten you, delicate mortal."

You froze, and your heart lurched. It was finally settling in. You had just summoned the fucking King of Hell. His tall, lean figure didn't intimidate you. Not in the slightest. If it wasn't for the horns and the occasional shifting of his eye color, he could pass as someone your age. In no way, shape, or form did he appear to even be an ancient demon. The power, raw and unadulterated, radiating off of him was the off-putting part. The demon glanced towards the ashes, eyeing them carefully. He reaches towards the ashes and pinches a bit of the ash between his fingers.

He blows the dust from his fingers and raises his eyebrows. "A deal?" he asks. He eyes you suspiciously and wipes away the smear of ash off. "You waited specifically until Hallows' Eve to do this. Didn't you?"

As if you were a video, someone had taken the remote and stopped you from moving or speaking. You were on pause. You didn't know how to answer, should you lie? Should you tell the truth? The demon takes a step towards you, coming closer than you were comfortable with. You catch a glimpse of red in his eyes, and then it's gone.

He smirks, "I see. You purposely waited, just to summon little old me. This must not be a regular deal then. Oh. Don't bother trying to lie to me, because it obviously won't work."

You mentally give yourself a good shake and try to focus on your objective. You could probably knife this bastard just as easily as any other demon.

He rolls his eyes, "Mortals, all of you are so feeble-minded. Tell me, what is it you want? True love? Fortune? An extra cup size? Go ahead, sweetheart. This is always the busiest night in Hell."

"I want you to stop whichever one of your little minions it is from wearing my best friend. I only want him sane, completely alive, and back where he belongs," you hiss.

The worst thing is having someone incredibly powerful laughing directly in your face.

Which is exactly what he did. The King cackles until he doubles over, appearing to be in pain from laughing so hard. You internally cringe, and the repulsive feeling returns to your gut. He really found you.. amusing. You were concerned about the well being of your friend. Yet, this asshole was laughing.

You have to really resist the urge to whip your knife from your side and gank him right then and there.

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he raises his head, the grin still on his lips. He circles around you like a vulture, inspecting every inch of you. "Before we talk payment... Tell me, how did he end up as a vessel for a demon of mine?"

Truth be told, you weren't entirely sure. Namjoon wouldn't let some demon merely hop in his body and take it for a ride. Also, he hated messing with demons in the first place. You had kind of came to the conclusion that he had somehow been tricked, or forced. The last time you barged into his house, he had black eyes and threw you against a wall with simply a wave of his hand. He didn't answer a single question and only rummaged through his files. Maybe the demons wanted information? There was no way for you to be entirely sure.

He hums almost inaudibly, seemingly thinking. He had read your thoughts again.

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your friend wanted to be a vessel?"

Before he even finished the sentence, you were already shaking your head. "Why? Why would he want to ride backseat while someone else controls his body? That doesn't make sense."

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "How will you pay me?" his tone lowers, and he stops in front of you once more. You hold your breath as he nears you again. From this angle, you can see that innocent glimmer even better.

You frown, "Well, my soul. That's usually the price, correct?"

"Indeed," he hums. "But you can't sell me your soul when you don't have one, to begin with."

The metal jewelry glinted just enough to catch your attention. You focus your attention on the silver adorning his wrist, mulling over his words. You never played around with this kind of thing. Unless someone appeared in the middle of the night and siphoned it from you, he was lying. It wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if he really was lying. He was the King of Hell, and lying was what he did best. He tilts his head to the side, pouting.

"You don't believe me?" He asks.

He sighs and then the pout drops from his features. "The names Jungkook, by the way. Constantly referring to me as the King gets annoying after a while," he snorts.

You go silent, unsure of what to do, or what to believe. You were already low on cash, so you definitely weren't going to be able to give him a regular payment. Besides, a part in the back of your mind knew he wouldn't want it anyway. "How am I alive if I don't have a soul? How did I lose my soul?" you demand. Surprise flashes across his features, and it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

"You think it's a big contract, just like every other mortal on Earth, don't you?" He asks in a mocking manner. "Technically, yes. You can lose your soul due to a big contract, similar to a contract that would be made here."

He pauses and steps away. He places his hand underneath his chin, trying to formulate a better way to explain his thoughts.

"It's a series of little agreements and every little fuck up counts. As for the how you're alive part, you can live a perfectly normal life even if your soul is gone. You're not unique, you're just the same as any other regular mortal. Until you die, that is. Then you're destined to fall straight into the pit."

You reflect on the haunting words, trying to think of every single thing you had done wrong. The list was honestly quite long at this point. You had done several horrible things in the past, trying to save your own ass from the fire. Only to learn that you were destined to fall right into it anyway. You never harmed animals, you never hurt anyone that didn't deserve to be hurt. You thought you were doing the moral thing.

"The devil has a thousand faces, sweetheart. Sorry to break the news this way," he mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"If that's the case, then how do any souls get sold at all?"

The corner of his mouth twists in irritation. He clearly didn't appreciate the number of questions you had for him.

"Not everyone fucks up as easily as you have. Some souls simply are worth more than others, but most others just make fewer mistakes. Even if their essence is close to being fully corrupted, we usually will accept it. That is... if the deal is over something minor. You though, you're asking me to bother one of my own, and there's pretty much nothing to gain from you. No profit."

"Pathetic," he sneers condescendingly. "It's been years since I've seen a mortal completely corrupt themselves all on their own. You're lucky, though. I'm willing to fetch your little friend if you're willing to pay a different price."

Jungkook takes a confident stride towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back and start sprinting in the other direction. Jungkook cupped your face, gently brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Your cheeks scorched with embarrassment. Your mind clouded, and it became hard to think with him so near. Your face feels frozen, but burns where he caresses you gently. It took a moment before you could form a coherent thought.

"What's the price?" you ask, your stomach in knots.

He grins, "I get to fuck you. Since I've laid eyes on you, I've had an overwhelming desire to pin you down and whisper the filthiest things into your ear. I want to hear you whine and whimper until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

You felt lightheaded. The slightest breeze could come along and tip you over with ease. "Right now?" you murmur, voice failing you. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog surrounding your mind and vision.

"No, Y/N. I will come to collect my payment soon."

You want to ask how he knows your name, but you figure it's a demon thing. Besides, you probably couldn't force the words out of your mouth at the moment anyway. His fingers remain on your face, and he didn't break eye contact. He was probably doing this on purpose, trying to lure you into a contract. Too bad for him, he was only wasting his energy. You were going to say yes either way. It was the eye contact, or scent, or.. something! It was him, he was the culprit making you feel this way.

"Yes," you spit out, finding it to be a struggle to make your voice go louder than a whisper.

The urge to throw yourself in his arms and let him care for you for the rest of eternity burns strongly inside of you, but you suppress it. It was his energy, you didn't even know him or anything about him. He presses his body into you eagerly, lips closing in on yours. His figure was so much warmer, compared to your mortal frame. It was thrilling, but terrifying considering you were so close to something that could easily snap you in two. Warmth spreads from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was a swirl of indescribable emotions in your chest when the two of you broke apart. The kiss didn't last near as long as you wished it had. He stepped away from you, and you knew the deal was sealed.

He turns on his heel and marches away. The fog dissipates, the more distance there is between the two of you. There's another strange warmth, and it's creeping it's way up your arm. You roll up your sleeve with slightly cloudy vision, searching for the cause of the feeling. Right below the bend of your elbow is a mark. It materializes into a branded mark, and the symbol is easily recognizable. It's the sigil you drew to summon him. He had stuck a claim on you.

Your head darts up when you hear a violent cough. On the ground, a few feet away from you, is Namjoon. The sigil etched into your skin and every thought of Jungkook disappeared from your mind.

It had been a week since that night, and Namjoon was still pissed. He wouldn't admit it, but his actions spoke volumes. There had been no sign of Jungkook, leaving you regularly on edge. The mark scorched into your skin was obnoxious. At night, you would wake up, convinced someone had put your arm in a boiling pot of water.

"What's next?" Namjoon asked, reaching for one of the flasks on the bottom shelf. He shifts the basket on his arm and starts to stroll along again. You followed behind Namjoon like a lost puppy. "Oil of Abramelin," you responded, eyeing the list carefully.

When Namjoon didn't acknowledge you, you tried to pry once more.

"You can get that here?"

Namjoon kept his back turned to you, but you knew he was rolling his eyes. The building was like a maze, and the fluorescent lights above probably gave away every skin imperfection you had. There was a moment of silence, and then Namjoon sighed. "Humans who want to meddle in the dark arts can't buy anything here."

You frowned, definitely still pissed. You bite your lip, wanting to make a snide remark back, but also not wanting to see a Namjoon meltdown in public. Everything in the store seemed antique. Each item seemed crammed onto the shelf rather than place artistically. The painted text on the aisle directory signs was peeling away.

Only chunks of words were recognizable, but it didn't help in the slightest. All of the products appeared to be scattered throughout the store carelessly. So, the signs wouldn't have been much help regardless.

Namjoon led you further into the shop, and you could tell the rear of this place rarely was used. Dust had gathered on pretty much every surface available. Even the spiders had abandoned the back of the shop. Their silk webs were now another collector of dust and pollen. Namjoon ignored the cobwebs, plucking thing randomly off of the shelves as he passed them.

"Next?" Namjoon asked, stopping abruptly. You fling your arms out in front of you, trying to avoid crashing into him. You stabilize and fumble with the list.

"Fulgurite," you read, squinting at the word in confusion. "Whatever that is."

Before Namjoon could completely twist around again, you lightly hooked your fingers into the back of his shirt. He studied you with a puzzled expression, "What?"

Feeling awkward, you release his shirt and let your hand drop to your side. "How many times have I apologized already?"

The question comes off slightly harsh, although you don't intend for it to sound that way. You didn't care though, Namjoon would be way too willing to hold this grudge against you for as long as he could. Namjoon glanced around as if he was expecting to see other customers nearby. It's deserted except for the ancient cashier. She was most likely hard of hearing anyhow.

"We've already been through this," he retorted, dropping his voice low.

"Yeah, but-"

You swallowed, trying to force the words to come out of your throat. It became hard to make out the details of the room, and the features of Namjoon. A wave of heat coursed through your veins, starting with the mark. Your ears popped, and the deep voice calling your name went muffled. Through blurred vision, you could see Joon wave his hand in front of your face. Nothing you did stopped the warmth rising in your chest. You buckle over, and you feel cool hands grab you by your shoulders. Namjoon does his best to guide you to the floor as safely as possible.

Then Namjoon's soothing hands disappear. You're drifting. There's no floor underneath you, nothing you can grab onto, and the weight of your clothes is missing. The fear, the worry, it has departed too. You feel abnormally calm, despite what had just happened. You unclench your eyes, startled to see an unfamiliar sky above you. You raised yourself from the bed, breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook sat, perched right beside you on the bed. His mouth erupts into a sinister grin, and he greets you. "Welcome to Hell."

You were in a room, not outside, you concluded. The ceiling above resembled a night sky. There was something about the way the lights twinkled that made you feel as if it wasn't real. After a few more moments of gazing at the faux sky, your eyes drifted to Jungkook. Jungkook, the reality you didn't want to face. "Hello," you murmur, almost inaudibly.

"You don't sound very happy to see me," he remarks.

Namjoon comes to mind, you envision him on his knees in the shop. He was probably baffled by how you managed to vanish right from his arms. You had absolutely no reason to be happy to see Jungkook. Jungkook shifting on the bed catches your attention. He smirks and crosses his arms, "Oh, I see. You're upset because I interrupted the fight between you and your little boy-toy."

You scoffed, "Namjoon's like a brother to me, it's not like that. Besides, he's obviously not interested, and neither am I."

"Oh, Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head. At some point, Jungkook had moved closer to you. He snakes his fingers up your arm and to the bend of your elbow. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment you can't breathe. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the mark, and you swear little sparks shoot up your arm. "How does Namjoon feel about you selling your body to me?"

You lower your eyes, and the deafening silence answers the question. Jungkook tilts your chin up, so you are no longer looking away from him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted you to confirm it. You hesitantly shook your head, "Not what I sold."

The arm he was tracing over the mark with slipped itself around your waist. The grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel Jungkook's energy shift. "Y/N, if you genuinely don't want to do this, I won't force you. Tell me now, though, and I'll leave you alone."

You disregarded the sound of your heart beating tensely, trying to think through this carefully. Jungkook called to you softly, "Y/N, I hope you realize I am a very selfish and greedy person. This can be a one-time thing, or we can do it often. Know that I have no plans to share you with someone else though."

This was your chance to say no. From past experiences, you knew you were prone to desiring a relationship, craving the romantic things. Casual sex in the past never really stayed that for you. He could never love you back if you were to fall for him. Yes, Jungkook had the decency to ask you if you wanted this or not. That didn't mean he knew how to love another.

The easy solution was just to say no. Why would you take that route though? You could decide later if you were going to take a gamble at doing this again... For now, you were not going to miss this opportunity. Overcome with desire, you breathe out a faint 'yes.'

Jungkook dipped his head down and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed, and all you could feel was warmth. The warmth of his mouth on yours, the heat from the mark, and the warmth of just his very being. The intoxication that Jungkook had brought upon you last time returned. There wasn't a doubt about it, the King of Hell already had you wrapped around his finger.

You whimper when Jungkook pushes your lips apart with his tongue. He explored your mouth with the intent to claim. He was conveying his message from earlier to you again, he was not going to be willing to share your body with another. Every inch of you was now his.

He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath. Jungkook went for your jaw, sloppily trailing kisses down to your neck. It took a few moments before you realized Jungkook was simultaneously pushing you down onto the bed while marking your neck. He removed himself from your neck with a frustrated growl. Jungkook raised his hand, and the tip of his finger began to glow. With a single touch to your shirt, the material crumbled and dissolved into thin air.

You gasped, shocked by the sudden actions. Jungkook didn't merely stop at your shirt. He proceeded until you were completely exposed and on display for him. His palm found your breast, his fingers massaging it in a way that had your core throbbing. The wet heat between your thighs was growing more and more with each action. He reached for your nipple, gently tugging and rubbing it between his fingertips. This provokes a whine out of you, and he hums contently. His concentration turned to the other breast, and he repeated the same steps.

"You're so fucking pretty," Jungkook uttered, nipping at your sensitive chest once more. The kisses return, but this time, they're much more rushed. His attention trails lower, down past your ribs and all the way to your thighs. Jungkook parts your legs and moves between them. He resumes his path of kisses, now that your legs are parted.

Although you should expect it, you don't. A sharp moan rips itself from your throat when Jungkook finds your clit. He takes the tender nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in different patterns. You withered underneath his touch, panting wildly. This feeling was so much different compared to your previous partner's attempts. Jungkook had a skilled, very well practiced tongue. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. Jungkook brings his hands to your hips, striving to still your trembling form.

Jungkook licks a stripe up your slit, and you mindlessly let your hand drift to his hair. You wind your fingers into his hair, and the angle he looks up at you from exposes his glistening forehead. His furrowed eyebrows and the look of concentration on his face made you ecstatic. "Does this feel good, baby?"

"F-Fuck, yes," you whimpered. A squeak escaped you when Jungkook slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly starts to work you open. Your fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, causing him to groan. He dipped another finger into your wet heat, producing a loud noise from you. You do your best to silence your cries, but with such a cloudy mind, it's a struggle.

Jungkook seems to sense that you're holding back, so he doubles his efforts. "Such a tight little slut, you're taking my fingers so well," he smirks, knowing damn well what his words do to you. He sinks his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, working them faster than before. "...I can't wait to see how you take my cock."

Not being able to hold back any longer, you let your hips roll to meet the thrusts of his fingers. You were so slick and soaked, at this point there was no way the sheets weren't tainted. Jungkook went back to lapping at your clit, slamming his fingers in and curling them. Your back arched from the bed, sharp pleasure shooting up your spine. Jungkook had hit the sweet spot inside of you, but your brain was so muddled it took you a moment to figure out what he was doing.

His tongue circling and twirling around your sensitive clit grew faster. Jungkook added a third finger, making sure you were nice and fucked out for him. It was beginning to be too much, you didn't know how much longer you could last. You try to cry out Jungkook's name, try to warn him your about to tip over the edge, but you can't. It's too late. You clenched around his fingers, rolling your hips and wailing out his name.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, before drawing himself away from your soaked core. You expected the fogginess to lessen, instead of growing worse. You struggle, trying to scramble upwards. You're so, so tired, but you're dying to continue.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook queries, confusion written all over his features.

"Returning the favor-"

Jungkook puts a hand in front of you, motioning for you to slow down. He stands, letting his clothes disintegrate and disappear. He shakes his head, "You don't seem to understand who makes the decisions around here, but okay. You want me? You'll get me."

You peel yourself from the bed and drop to your knees obediently. Your face was perfectly level to Jungkook's long, throbbing cock. It was standing proudly, a thick vein wrapped from the top to the underside. The way Jungkook was glaring down at you had you feeling eager and more submissive than ever. You scooted closer, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he hums.

He slid himself over your lips a couple of times in a teasing manner. After a few moments, he finally pushes himself into your mouth. He moved slowly, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.

You linked your hands behind your back, letting Jungkook have full control of the pace. His fingers met the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length.

"You little slut, you've had plenty of practice, hm? You're taking me pretty well," he grunted, drawing himself out of you until his head was back at your lips. You ignored the ache in your knees, knowing damn well you were going to have a horrible carpet burn later. Jungkook hisses in pleasure, "Is this how you tainted your soul? By sucking as many dicks as you could so you could become a pro?"

The words made your insides burn once more, just when you thought you were sated.

You were anxious to please, so you hollowed your cheeks against him. You went to bob your head, but Jungkook held you still. You gazed up and met his eyes, causing him to groan. A thick band of sweat was developing on his forehead. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing. You hear him murmur something along the lines of, 'fucking gorgeous.' You can't make out the rest of the sentence, too concentrated on controlling your breath.

Your throat tightened around him, and for the first time in the session, you gagged. Jungkook yanked you off of him, and you gasped for air. You opened your mouth again, despite your aching jaw. He slid into your mouth with ease, meeting the back of your throat again. This time he was rougher, thrusting quicker and quicker. You knew he was getting close, and he did too. He gave a few more thrusts and then slipped out from between your lips.

You craved Jungkook more than ever now. Lust surged in you, loins stirring. His tone and his harsh words triggered something inside of you that you didn't really understand. Without speaking, you knew what Jungkook craved from you. You rose and crawled onto the bed. You were correct, your knees were fucked. You didn't pay any more attention to it, needing all of your focus to go to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes. His voice grows closer and soon enough, he's right behind you. "You're this excited to be fucked by a demon, I can't believe it. I'm a monster. I'm the fucking King of Hell, and yet here you are. You're presenting yourself to me, practically begging for it."

He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before rearing his hand back and slapping your ass. You glanced back in shock. One of his hands were busy, pumping up and down his cock. The other hand cracked against your skin, extracting a yelp from you. Jungkook positioned himself over you, and you arched your back into him.

"Please," you whine quietly. Your voice was unsteady, and there was nothing you could do to control it. Jungkook doesn't reply at first, deliberating on his next move. "Are you this eager for all cock, or am I just special?" he growls, delivering another smack to your ass.

"Yours! Only your cock!" you cry out, feeling tears begin to build up. His free hand roamed from your ass to your flooded heat. He cupped your core gently, and you jerked lightly. You were still a bit sensitive from the earlier orgasm. His fingers find your clit, and he flicks his wrists in a circular motion a few times. Just as quickly as the touches came, they disappeared. Your walls uncontrollably grasped and tensed around nothing.

You need him to fill you to the brim already. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn't walk or see straight. Right when your patience started running out, he puts his cock to your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of any other dick than mine. Your poor little boyfriend will never be able to make you feel this way."

You were so worked up, at this point you didn't bother to argue that Namjoon wasn't your boyfriend. He moved his cock up your slit, brushing against your clit. You wiggled excitedly, stomach in knots. The head of his cock found your entrance again. He leans his weight onto you and enters you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he barks, bringing his hand down on your backside. The initial thrusts are slow like he's testing how far your depths go. He was also most likely giving your walls time to adjust to his size. You don't hold back your noises now, letting them spring wildly from your lips. You're glad you had already orgasmed once, so you were slick. This made the glide and stretch so much better.

Then, Jungkook yanks himself from you almost entirely. When he thrusts back in, it's with nearly enough strength to knock you into the headboard. Your arms trembled, trying to hold yourself up. Jungkook slams into you again, and for a split second, you think you're going to fall face first into the silk sheets. Jungkook's hand travels up to your shoulder, and he helps hold you steady.

"Fuck," you spit out, heavily heaving. Jungkook keeps his promise, each thrust was going to ruin you. He snaps his hips up into you at a ruthless speed. Eventually, your arms do fail on you. Your face was buried into the sheets, along with your fingers twisted into them. "I don't think I've ever felt a pussy as tight as yours, fuck," he rumbles.

Jungkook places his other hand on your shoulder. He uses both arms to yank you up, and to his chest. You're lifted off the bed now, and your legs are thrown over Jungkook's thick thighs. Jungkook never stops pounding into you, although you're pretty much sitting in his lap. His hand travels from his shoulder, past your collarbones, and to your throat.

He wraps his hand gently around it, ever so slightly constricting your breathing. You snap your hips down onto him the best you can. Your tits bounce lewdly, and you can do nothing but helplessly moan. Jungkook seemed to like this angle, not wanting to release you or your throat. You rotated your hips and did your best to grind down onto him with equal passion. He releases your throat but decides to hook his arms under your own. He lets you lean forwards slightly, so the only thing keeping you from smacking your face onto the bed is his arms hooked around your shoulders.

The coil in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you urged it away. There was a tiny sense of control you had before, but now there was none. Jungkook had inhuman strength and could toss you around as he pleased. Jungkook is close to your ear, panting heavily. Somehow, he knows. "That's right, baby. You don't come until I tell you that you can. You're fucking mine."

Jungkook knew your body so well. He knew how to press your buttons and how to play with you flawlessly. He found the spot inside of you that he had previously discovered with his fingers. He angled his body so he could repeatedly jab his cock into that place. A scream erupts from your sore throat, and you try to find something to grasp onto.

You find nothing, though, and let your hands fall limply to your sides. Your limbs came back to life though when the pads of Jungkook's fingers find your clit. You nearly come on the spot but manage to choke it back. Your hands clamped around his wrist, trying to make him stop circling your sensitive nub. There was no way, you weren't going to last. There wasn't a single sign he was planning to slow down, either.

"I'm close, baby. Don't worry," Jungkook snarls. His words come off as harsh, but also endearing. His thrusts turned sloppy, and you knew he was telling the truth. No matter how messy, he was still more skilled than any other man you had ever been with.

"Come, come for me like the good girl you are," he orders, hips giving their final few jerks. You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to. The blistering, white-hot heat courses through you. He fills you immediately, and you were slightly surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Never had someone stuffed you so full. Or filled you at all. Jungkook goes to pull out, and most of the liquid flows out from your walls.

He positions you carefully on the bed. You blink slowly, entirely spent. "You did so well for me, Y/N. Thank you," Jungkook coos. You can't see his facial expression, because you're too tired to open your eyes. Jungkook cleaned you up the best he could, and soon enough you passed out with him realizing it.

You crack your eyes open, yawning contently. There was no alarm obnoxiously beeping, forcing you to wake up. It was merely sunlight seeping through your curtains and the sound of the birds outside chirping. Jungkook must have brought you home while you were resting. Jungkook, wait? What?

Memories of last night flood you, and you raise straight up. The memories were slightly blurry, almost like you had been drunk. You frown, and after a minute or so, it becomes clear. You had held up your end of the deal.

Something still seems wrong though. You drag yourself from your bed and glance in the mirror. There are no visible bruises on you or your neck. You notice you're wearing the exact same clothes you were before Jungkook had destroyed them. After a minute or two of staring at yourself, you think you know what's wrong.

You roll up your sleeve, the mark was still there.

Jungkook had forgotten to remove it. Fuck.

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danteaarons · 5 years ago

Photo

And Then, Suddenly... | Self Para

Tagged: Dante & Angela Aarons Time Frame: Late night; April 27, 2012 Location: En route from Downtown Portland to their apartment; Portland, OR Notes: Trigger warnings for a car crash, talk of death, and blood

"Are you going to decide how we're celebrating your graduation?"

A smile came to Angela's lips as she gave a harmless roll of her eyes, "Yeah I am. But when? That's still TBD."

Dante shook his head as he shifted gears and pulled away from the curbside parking spot, heading for his and his wife's apartment. "You can be the most indecisive person on the planet sometimes. I don't even know how you ever settled on a nursing career," he teased, earning a an audible smack on his shoulder. He grinned and chuckled as Angela muttered, "Ass," under her breath.

When they reached a stoplight, Dante looked to her while reaching across the center console to take her hand and bring it to his lips. "Well, whatever you wanna do, we'll make it happen."

"Whatever I wanna do?" she echoed, her smile turning devious, "So if I want to do a cross-country road trip?"

"I'll ask Ma to grab our mail for us while we're gone."

Angela shrugged her eyebrows, "Ooo. Okay. And if I wanted to have a big-ass party? Something themed where we all have to dress up in costumes--and I don’t mean super simple costumes like you pull off for Halloween but all out, fully committing costumes… you’d do that?"

Dante sucked on his teeth while glancing out of the driver's window and away from his wife, whose laughter was now filling the car. He looked at her, "Yeahh you're laughing because you know if I agreed without getting more details, you'd pick some kinda theme where I'd have to dress up like an idiot."

The light changed and Angela continued to laugh, "No I wouldn't!"

When her bluff was called by Dante saying, "Say it with a straight face," Angela tried and failed to wipe all the amusement from her features

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he playfully grumbled. Still holding her hand, however, he gave it a tender squeeze and said, "But really. Whatever you want. Getting your Masters and being that much closer to being a Nurse Practitioner… This is a big deal and I'm proud as hell for you. You've worked hard for this, so you deserve to be celebrated. And if that means I’d have to dress up like a clown… well… then I’d suck it up for one day."

Angela's smile warmed as she squeezed her husband's hand back. "I love you, babe. And honestly, I'd be happy with a backyard barbecue at Dad and Ma's. Just us, a few friends and Hannah and her family, if she's up for making the trip. Traveling with a toddler and a newborn would be a lot."

Dante stopped at another red light. "Yeah I think it would be. Sounds like a nice way to celebrate. But are you sure that's what you want? You don't wanna go anywhere or anything like that?"

He saw Angela rest her head back while gazing at him. And when he met her loving eyes, she told him, "I'm sure. You're right about celebrating. I mean this is… huge for me, and for us. But I want to keep it somewhat lowkey. You still want to open your shop by the end of the year, and I'm gonna be paying my student loans back until I'm retired." She chuckled a little but her expression soon turned radiant. "And we've been talking about trying to start a family more and more, so…" Seeing her face light up at her last reason brought a smile to Dante's face. He listened to her finish, "...I'd rather we saved so our money can go towards those things than blowing it on a huge trip or a big party."

They held each other's gazes until the light turned green, at which point Dante looked out of the windshield and moved his foot off of the brake pedal. He nodded once and squeezed her hand, "Okay. I'll call Ma tomorrow and let her know."

and then, suddenly…

Somehow, everything that soon followed happened rapidly and in slow motion at the same time. Angela dove into listing foods she wanted at the barbecue but only managed to utter two items before another car sped into the wide intersection. Dante had barely gained any acceleration when a speeding car collided with the passenger's side of Angela’s sedan.The sound was unlike anything Dante had ever heard in his life. But what he’d heard was short-lasting. Through the metal crunching, glass shattering, tires squealing, and bodies being thrown about by airbags deploying and the sheer force of the crash, Dante’s world went black and mute.

and then, suddenly…

For brief seconds at a time, his mind bobbed above and beneath the surface of consciousness. His ears rang to a degree that drowned out sounds of wailing sirens and urgent, distant voices. His head throbbed worse than any hangover, than any migraine he’d ever had. When his eyes flew open, he tried lifting his head but it felt like a bowling ball--hollow and heavy. His movements were eventually restricted by a neck brace and his vision was taking its time to come into view. When he tried to say something, he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t be heard, despite no sound accompanying his sloppy lip movement. His body shivered from the exposure to night air. Where had the growing warmth inside the car gone? He cringed from trying to force himself to remember, winced from a sharp pain near his temples, and ultimately forced his eyes shut again at a beam of light swishing back and forth in front of his face. And soon, he succumbed to unconsciousness again.

and then, suddenly...

As consciousness returned to him, Dante lifted his heavy eyelids, all the while processing being awake. His ears picked up pulsing beeps and his gradually sharpening vision was telling him he was inside of the hospital. His mind was split between a groggy and weighty urge to sleep and an acute awareness that he and Angela had been in an accident.

and then, suddenly...

Dante made to sit up, all too quickly as the blood rushed, hollowing out his head and dizzying his mind. He meant to shake it off but it only made the age worse. He soon felt a hand on his shoulder, firmly but slowly urging him back.

“Lie back, son.”

The steady machine beeps had picked up with Dante’s rising panic, looking to his right where his dad had risen from a chair. “Dad… Angela-- ...where’s Ange at? There was an accident. We were going home. Is she okay? Where is she, Dad?” His speech was labored by the relentless aching throughout his body--particularly concentrated across his torso and face. His chest burned from the airbag and bruised ribs, and his face had already been stitched and bandaged up from the bloodied and bruised mess it faced. He didn’t yet know the extent of his injuries but all of them combined paled in comparison to what he was insisting on knowing. He continued to ask despite the strained calm on his dad’s face.

Looking past the elder Aarons man, Dante could see a part of his mother’s face in the narrow window on the door. She was speaking to someone--a doctor, he assumed--nodding and sobbing. Dante’s gaze cut back to his father and his voice cracked, “Dad… wh-...where’s Ange at?”

Noah Aarons grimaced and sighed, “Son… Dante, she’s… there was a drunk driver. Ran the light and hit you guys pretty hard. They… they say it’s a miracle you survive with the injuries you’ve got.” He paused, struggling to look his son in the eye. “Dante, Angela… she… she didn’t make it, son. I’m sorry. They tried at the site of the accident, but--”

Dante’s heart rate climbed even more. His gaze went entirely out of focus and his head continued to throb. “What...what’d you say?”

Noah squeezed his shoulder, “She’s gone, son. I’m so sorry. I… there’s nothing they could do.”

Very slowly, Dante was shaking his head; he wasn’t even aware that his head was moving with how slight the turns were. “But...she was right there. W-we… we were right there… Dad, where is she?”

Noah hung his head while taking hold of his son’s hand, “Dante, listen to me.” He made sure his son was looking back at him as he repeated in a slow but genuinely sorrowful voice, “Angela’s gone, son. She’s not… she’s not coming back, son. They couldn’t save her.”

Dante was not a crier. He had very, very few reasons in his life to do so. At most, he teared up a little when Angela walked down the aisle at their wedding. But he just wasn’t one for shedding tears, or sobbing hard over anything.

and then, suddenly…

Dante’s eyes were glossy. His head continued its tiny shakes as he resisted the loss sinking into his brain. He was drifting outside of himself, growing more and more distant with the broken man lying in a hospital bed. The sound of polite knocks, followed by his red-eyed mother and a doctor he didn’t recognize entering the room all were so far away. He didn’t see his mother rush to his bedside in a burst of fresh tears, didn’t hear the doctor list of his sustained injuries. He was somewhere else entirely at the parade of people who had come through--detectives, an attorney, nurses, a medical examiner… Even as his parents attempted to receive the majority of the people who had come in and out of the room, Dante absentmindedly wondered if this was what paralysis was like. Or shock. He didn’t know. It was such a spec of a thought and yet he clung to it--anything to keep fighting off the words that his father reiterated to him. His wife was dead. She was gone. A drunk driver took his wife away. With the theft of her physical presence, her warm smile, her bright eyes, her whip-cracking wit, her determination and dedication, her brilliance… everything that made Angela who she was--the person she was, the best friend and wife. The best friend. Gone.

His mind jumped ahead. Was he supposed to go home to the apartment once e was discharged? Did he have to go down to identify her body? Was he supposed to plan her funeral? To bury his wife? How was he supposed to say ‘goodbye’ to his best friend? What about her education? She was mere weeks away from being finished, from graduating.They were just talking about the plan to celebrate. They were planning more of their future together. He had just signed the paperwork for a location for his custom woodwork shop. They were going to start a family. They were supposed to have a life. Together. They were going to grow old together. And what about all of the people she was going to help--the people she wanted to help?

“Dante? Dante, honey…”

Dante barely acknowledged his mom’s gentle, nasal. He glanced at her for only two seconds before fixing his eyes elsewhere. The look on her face was only making all of this that much more real. His mother was another bright spirit in his life. And while she was still here, the sight of her so puffy-eyed, morose, and struggling to be strong for him was more than he could bear. He didn’t know what she was trying to tell him. Someone had surely shoved his entire body into the depths of the iciest waters. He wanted to breathe. And yet he also wanted to embrace this new, unforgiving surrounding he was being held under.

Only time would tell which would win out.

#mtask #And Then Suddenly para

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sybill-the-seer · 5 years ago

Text

Saying Goodbye

I’ve been thinking about writing this scene for ages now, and I finally did it. I hope I didn’t miss any important details…I’m a little nervous about posting this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, even if it’s not totally perfect!

The October night was chilly, and Sirius shivered as he walked swiftly down the cobblestoned street leading to the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow. He kept his head bowed low against the biting cold, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck for warmth. In his right hand, he held a bag of groceries. Ever since James and Lily had gone into hiding, they had been forced to rely upon their closest friends to bring them (and their now 1-year-old son) food and necessities once a week. Tonight was supposed to have been Peter’s turn, but Sirius had taken over for him after Peter had informed him that he wasn’t feeling well.

“Just a cold,” he’d told him, after Sirius had asked about his Halloween plans. “No need to worry about me; I’m just not sure I’m up to doing much tonight. In fact, I might put off the Potters’ delivery until tomorrow. They have enough from the last time we stopped by with things, I’m sure they’ll be fine for one more day.” Peter had a nervous edge to his voice.

“I don’t mind taking over delivery for tonight,” Sirius had replied. “Where’s the stuff? I can take it over ‘round 8 tonight.”

“No, no, that’s very kind, but really, you don’t have to do that,” Peter had insisted, seeming more panicky by the second. But Sirius had insisted, and Peter eventually conceded defeat.

“You sure you’re alright, Wormy? You seem a bit stressed,” Sirius said hesitantly. Then, in a whisper, “If it’s getting to be too much worry for you, it’s alright if you want to switch it back to me. I don’t mind. It was just an idea to try to double the protection, you know, but really, the Secret’s just as safe with me as it is with you.”

Sirius could have sworn a flash of guilt crossed Peter’s face at what he’d whispered, but decided it was just his own paranoia. He really had become a bit more paranoid than he would’ve liked to admit, ever since joining the Order and learning about the prophecy thought to concern his godson.

So now Sirius found himself walking up the path to the front gate of the Potter’s cottage. He unlatched the gate, and continued up the path, but something felt terribly wrong. Looking up from his feet, Sirius saw that the front door was hanging open, swinging slightly in the cold breeze. His heart sank so quickly, he thought it might have fallen past his knees. A panic slowly creeping up on him, Sirius ran the rest of the way to the front door.

“No…no…NO!”

The words seemed to be coming from some far away distance, though it was he who had screamed. Sirius dropped the groceries, ignoring the apples that fell out of the bag and rolled across the tile, and collapsed to the floor next to the body that lay sprawled in the entryway.

“No…James…” Sirius broke off and choked back a sob as he reached down to pick up the glasses that had fallen on the floor near James’ face. There was a trickle of fresh blood on his head where it had hit the floor. It must have only just happened. He had been only moments too late…

Sirius gently placed the glasses back onto his friend’s face, hands shaking, breath coming in short, painful gasps. He felt like the world was falling out from beneath him, and for a moment he had tunnel vision. How could this have happened? But he couldn’t think of that, not now, as he looked down into the motionless face of the man who had been his closest friend, his brother. James did not look like himself, in death. No cocky, amused grin, no cheeks pink from laughter, no warmth…only pale skin, wide eyes, and cold, frozen clamminess. Sirius could not bear to look any longer.

Panic overtook him again as he tore his eyes away from James, frantically remembering Lily and Harry. Harry…his godson…You-Know-Who wanted to kill him…had he succeeded?

Taking them two at a time, Sirius raced up the stairs. He turned towards the hall on the right, and breathing heavily, heart pounding in his ears, he paused to listen. The nursery door at the end of the hall was open, and Harry was screaming loudly. Alive. He was alive. But Lily…what about Lily…and where was You-Know-Who? Surely it had been he who had come here; he who had killed James…

Sirius crept over the soft carpet towards the nursery, wand drawn. He entered the room slowly, trying to calm his erratic breathing, but what he saw made his breath catch in this throat. Lily was sprawled on the floor in front of Harry’s crib, her face pale against the shock of bright red hair pooled around her head. The nursery wall to his right had been completely blown apart, and he could see stars in the inky sky as he looked out into the empty street. The air in the room was still full of settling dust. Sirius’ eyes snapped back to the floor. Lying near Lily was, if possible, an even more horrific sight. You-Know-Who lie broken on the ground, his red, slitted eyes staring unseeingly at Sirius, the skin on his face and hands a terrifying white. Sirius gaped in horror, not daring to move forward for a moment, envisioning You-Know-Who leaping up to attack him at any moment. But when the man on the floor did not stir, Sirius rushed towards Harry, who was still screaming in his crib.

“Harry…Harry…” Sirius picked up the crying baby, close to tears himself. Now up close, he could see that Harry had not survived unharmed. Blood, thick red blood, was streaming from the baby’s forehead, rolling down his nose and mixing with the tears on his round cheeks. Sirius couldn’t tell how deep the gash on his forehead was, and hurriedly dabbed away at the blood with his scarf to assess the injury. The cut didn’t seem horribly deep: deep enough to bleed profusely, but not deep enough to require stitches.

Sirius cleaned Harry up, and then held him tightly to his chest, breathing deeply, trying to fight the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Harry was still crying. “Shhh…shhh…it’s alright…” Sirius breathed, even though he knew it wasn’t.

He stood there with Harry for what felt like hours, the cries of the baby mixing with his own gut-wrenching sobs. How long they stood there, Sirius did not know, for nothing mattered anymore, nothing at all. It was just him and Harry now.

Gone.

They were gone.

A crash from downstairs brought Sirius back to the present. He turned his head to look at Harry, pressed against his shoulder, clinging to his neck. Harry was his responsibility now. And Sirius was ready. Ready to do anything to protect his godson; his best friend’s son. Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat.

Securing Harry in one arm, and drawing his wand with the other, he hurried out into the hall. Surely, whoever the intruder was had already heard Harry crying. Sirius stopped before reaching the top of the stairs, heart pounding, as he heard footsteps coming up them.

“Stupif--- Hagrid!” Sirius exclaimed, as Hagrid’s large frame came into view.

“Sirius,” Hagrid nodded solemnly, his voice gruff. His eyes, red from tears, found Harry, and now fresh tears began to flow from them. “Lily an’ James…Lily an’ James…I jus’ can’ believe…” Hagrid burst into noisy sobs.

“Yes, I… it’s quite difficult to…” Sirius choked, and tried to clear his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Come to take little Harry, ‘o course. Dumbledore’s orders,” Hagrid sniffled.

“What? No! Take Harry? Where? Why?” Sirius’ grip on Harry tightened, and Harry squirmed, whimpering. “I’m his godfather, I’ll take care of him!”

“Dumbledore says he’s ter go ter his aun’ and uncle, in Surrey. Don’ know why. I’m sure yer quite capable of tendin’ to him yerself, but I promised Dumbledore I’d bring ‘im. An’ if we can’ trust Dumbledore, who can we trust?”

Sirius stared at Hagrid for a long moment, part of him wanting to make a run for it; dash down to his motorcycle parked at the edge of the village, and fly away with Harry, far away, where no one, not even Dumbledore could find them. But there was another part of him, a bigger part of him that knew what Hagrid had said was true. He had to trust Dumbledore. Dumbledore often knew what was best, and if Dumbledore wanted Harry to stay at his aunt and uncle’s, there must be a good reason.

Forcing his arms to loosen their grip on the last tie he had to his best friends, Sirius reluctantly handed Harry over to Hagrid, gently placing him in Hagrid’s dustbin-sized hands, trying to hide the tear that had involuntarily crept down his cheek. “Be safe, Harry,” he whispered, softly enough so that he hoped only Harry could hear. Harry began to cry loudly again, distressed at being passed to unfamiliar hands.

Hagrid grunted his goodbye between his own tears, and stumped down the stairs, Sirius following silently behind him, anger slowly replacing grief as he stared down again at James’ silent, pale face in the entryway. He was angry; angry at Voldemort, angry at Dumbledore for taking away his godson, but most especially, angry at Peter for betraying the people he had come to call his only true family. It had to have been Peter, surely. How else could You-Know-Who have known where to find them? A sudden, reckless desire for revenge overtook him as he stepped across the threshold and into the chilly night, closing the door on the nightmarish scene in the house behind him. He knew what he had to do.

“Take my motorbike,” he said suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could think. Hagrid turned to look at him. “Take my motorbike, Hagrid, I left it parked outside the village, near the big tree at the head of the path. It will get you to Surrey much faster. I won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Are yeh sure? Yeh love tha’ bike, Sirius, why I remember – “

“Yes, take it. I mean it. Harry loves riding on it, always calms him down,” he said, as Harry’s screams pierced the night.

Hagrid nodded, and turned away again. His large frame blocked Sirius’ view of Harry, and some part of him felt suddenly lost, now, without him. He watched Hagrid walk further down the path, Harry’s screams now fading into the distance; watched until he saw the motorbike ascending higher and higher into the dark, starry sky; watched until there was nothing more to see. Sirius turned back toward the eerily silent house, a pit of despair in his chest, and anger boiling in his stomach. Glancing once more at the now motorcycle-less sky he turned on the spot, disappearing into nothingness.

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