#demon harry

[moonchildstyles]

sin

y/n is an angel and harry is a demon whos taught her how much fun it can be to sin

wordcount: 7.8k+

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The first time (Y/N) floated down from the clouds, she had no idea what a Pocket was, let alone where to find one. That time felt so long ago with the way she could now navigate herself to her favorite Pocket without a second thought. The route had become one of familiarity, guiding butterflies flitting through her stomach the closer she made it with every step. 

Slipping out of sight of the main street, she counted thirteen paces down the quiet alleyway before finding the brick that needed just the right touch before it would show off the hidden doorway she needed. The brick was grainy and rough under her palm, her skin catching on the mortar as she pushed against it until it finally gave away underneath. Just like that, the seemingly solid wall opened up, revealing an entryway for her eyes only. 

(Y/N) felt giddy as she stepped inside, the doorway vanishing behind her when she crossed the threshold. She knew it was secure once more when there was a breeze that skated over her skin and fluffed through her wings, seemingly sealing her away from the rest of the world. In a way, it was, but there was still a waiting invitation to the one other person who knew about this Pocket—the one that had shown her the way in the first place.

Getting comfortable while she waited, (Y/N) was happy to see the place was untouched from her last visit. When she had first seen this Pocket, it was the closest thing she had ever seen to an interdimensional "bachelor pad". There hadn't been much of anything to see that first time, only the bones of someone’s presence though they were too busy to return much. She remembered it had felt stale as if it had been abandoned for years despite the unmade bed in the corner with messy sheets and tufted comforter. 

Harry had told her it was a place he barely used—it was one of the first Pockets he conjured on his own, and he'd since honed the craft into bringing something more extravagant to life. He still visited just to keep the curse fresh, but he otherwise only stayed there if it was necessary and no other options were available. 

His last resort had since become their hideaway. Special for just the two of them; another secret for them to share with one another. 

It had come a long way from when she had first visited with Harry on her tail, leaving behind the less than ideal bed set up, and vacant walls. (Y/N) had used all of her inspiration from seeing countless humans decorate their homes, turning the dreary Pocket into a cozy getaway. Heaven didn't necessarily allow for a lot of individualism when it came to living spaces, seeing as how everything was ordained to be pristine and creamy. Here, (Y/N) got to use as much color as she wanted—as long as it didn't spur any headaches for Harry, anyway. 

Now, there was an actual bed frame holding up a cushy mattress, the pillows feather soft and always cool to the touch. The bedding was a warm orangey color, playing off of the greens and pinks throughout the space. There were pictures—canvases full of paint Harry said he "found" through his travels—pinned to the walls, playing into the bright hues (Y/N) was toying with. A rug now sat in the middle of the room in the shape of a paint blob in a creamy green shade that made her think of Harry's eyes. The kitchen—though near unnecessary given their statuses—was given the same treatment as the rest of the studio-sized space. There were magnets covering the unused fridge, appliances and bowls of always fresh fruit sitting on the counter. A bouquet of flowers that never died were sitting on the bedside table, perfuming the air with a light fragrance that drew her in. Her favorite part was the mirror by the bed, ornate and carved with cherubs. 

Walking in felt like a breath of fresh air. As much as she loved being an angel—guiding humans in need, taking care of those who needed her touch, changing lives for the better—being here in this Pocket was the one thing she could see herself loving more.

It would be a little bit better if she wasn't alone, though. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, fluffy wings tucked against her back, she fixed her eyes on the doorless portal, waiting for the telltale creek and scrape of concrete that would signal Harry's arrival. This was the bad part of being chronically early, she thought, never being sure when the other would show up and keep her from being lonely. 

Lucky for her, it was only another handful of minutes before her ears picked up on the familiar sound of footsteps trailing over the pavement. Her breath caught when they stopped just outside where the Pocket's door was, a smile unfurling on her features when that first creek sounded through the room. She rose to her feet just in time to see the first uniform crack in the wall before the rest of the doorway came to be. 

Slipping inside, Harry didn't wait for the portal to shut behind him before he was crossing the room to meet her. 

"(Y/N)," he sighed, his grin toothy and completely with dimples, "Sorry I took so long." 

Wrapping his arms around her, (Y/N) melted into his embrace. His hands settled just below her fluffy wings, holding her close while she rested her cheek on his chest. 

"It's okay," she murmured, eyes fluttering to a close as she soaked in his warmth, "I'm happy you're here." 

Harry's response came in the form of a small kiss being dropped on the top of her head, the contact decidedly delicate as opposed to his nature. He'd told her before that she was the only one that could draw that side of him out—the docile side that had no alignment with chaos or sabotage. This side of him was just for her, he'd shared. 

Shifting his hands on her, his fingertips brushing her wings with a shudder shooting down (Y/N)'s spine, Harry repositioned until he had his hands cradling her cheeks as he tipped her head up to face him. His dark eyes shimmered green, taking in each of her features as if it were the first time again. 

"I've missed you," he crooned, "So much, darling. What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?" 

Despite there being no way for anyone, mortal or otherwise to overhear them, every word he spoke to her was uttered like a secret. Just for her. 

"I missed you," she smiled, unlooping her own arms to settle with her hands on his chest, "But, I've been okay. Just doing angel stuff." 

His lips quirked into a lopsided curve, his thumb brushing along the height of her cheekbone. "Always angel stuff with you. No breaks." 

"No breaks," she played along as if she wasn't currently in the middle of a break with him right now, where not even her creator could spot her if she tried, "What about you?" 

"Just the opposite of angel stuff," he teased, managing to bring a smile to her face despite knowing the reality of his joke. He had a certain way of putting it, describing his job, that made it not sound so bad when it came to (Y/N)'s sensibilities. (Truthfully, it could be because she just liked his voice. He could make anything sound heavenly). 

"Fun?" she smiled, letting him walk her back towards the bed. 

"Always," he hummed, escorting her backwards until her legs hit the edge. 

Tumbling back, a bubbling laugh left (Y/N)'s lips as she clung to Harry. He fell atop her, her thighs splitting to settle him between. Underneath, the mattress conformed to the shape of her wings, Harry's hands pressing into the planes of her back as if she wasn't close enough as is. 

Before the world had a chance to settle around her, Harry tipped his chin and pressed his lips to hers. Though she didn't have much to compare it to, (Y/N) had little doubt that there could ever be a better kisser out there than Harry. Her point was proven every time he sealed his mouth to hers, her top lip cradled between his two. 

This was never going to get old, she knew. Not with the bubbling that ignited under her skin at the contact, the way there was nothing more she wanted than to cling to him and bask in his warmth. With every angling and tipping of their heads, movements made in tandem, she was drawn deeper and deeper in everything that was him. Tucked underneath him like this, mouth coming together and parting with soft breaths between, it was hard to think that the universe had crafted them to be enemies. 

Tracing his mouth down from hers, dotting a line over her jaw, Harry murmured in her ear, "I don't have much time, darling." 

"No?" she asked, a pout evident in just the single syllable, "Why not?" 

Harry drew back only to give her an apologetic smile. "Opposite of angel stuff, remember?" 

"Since when does that have a schedule?" She sounded petulant even to her own ears, but if there was one sin she was willing to commit, it was greed when it came to Harry. 

"Since I told Sarah I would meet up with her soon," Harry offered the challenge with a raised brow. Sarah wasn't like the others of his kind, she was more stubborn and would actually go looking for him if he stood her up, if only to wreak havoc for him personally as revenge. 

"To do not-angel stuff that I'll have to clean up later?" she pressed, feeling her attitude leak away now that she knew her time was limited with him. 

His smile was brilliant at her words, wide with bracketing dimples. "Of course. That's why we work so well, darling." 

It was that kind of language, the sweet one that made even demon activities sound silly, that had her splitting into a smile before tipping her chin in hopes of coaxing him into a kiss. It didn't take much convincing for Harry's lips to press into hers, resuming the lingering kissing he'd interrupted before. 

On her back, Harry shifted his hands until he grazed the stem of her wings. The second his fingertips glanced against the base of one fluffy, tightly packed feather, a shudder wormed down her spine. Her breathing stuttered in her chest, a furrow pinching at her brow. From the way he had to keep from smiling against her mouth, she knew he was aware of the effect of his touch—undoubtedly intentional. 

It was the easiest way to get her riled up, and that was exactly what he needed for their time limit. 

Just as he'd surely hoped, there was a change in the pacing of their kissing. (Y/N) leaned into his touch, anticipating another lingering touch against her wings. Her hands slid over his chest, fingers denting the blocky muscles that made up his body, landing on the shelf of his shoulders. Her fingertips hooked into the solid muscle, clinging to him. 

Her heartbeat stutters behind her ribs when she felt his hands shifting on her back. This time, he dared to run his fingers through the feathers, the structure underneath down was grazed by his warm touch. An involuntary moan slipped from her mouth and into his.

Instead of something smug crossing his features, Harry only kissed her harder. His mouth was hot, taking in her sudden pants from his touch. 

"Harry?" she murmured, breathless against his mouth. He didn't bother drawing away from her as he hummed, the pillows of his lips dragging over hers. "Do we have enough time?" 

This finally had his lips quirking. He nodded his head gently, the tip of his nose grazing her own. "I'll make time."

When she felt his hands drift away from her wings, she wanted to complain. She wanted to whine enough for him to know she didn't like that he was moving on, but that need was quieted when she felt his palm settle on the plush of her thigh. His touch was heavy and warm, denting into the soft skin while the other hooked around her waist in a cradle. 

In one fluid motion, he had her on her back with her mouth dropped open in a gasp. Instinctively, she had tightened her grip on him, her legs wrapping around his waist during the roll. By the time Harry was underneath her, her surprise had morphed into laughter, her chest pressed to his as she slumped into him. 

"You scared me," she bubbled, shifting in his lap with her knees bracketing his hips. 

"Sorry, darling," he murmured with a soft smile, the pitch of his pupils blown wide as he took her in. 

Steadying her, he settled his hand on her hips as she planted her hands on his chest to prop herself up above him. She could feel her wings fluff out behind her, no longer confined against the mattress. Harry's eyes followed the span of her feathers, the stretch reaching just slightly wider than her shoulders. He'd told her more than once how cute he thought her wings were—he'd never seen any quite as fluffy as hers, especially compared to his own. 

He looked up at her with reverence in his gaze, something adoring and smothering dancing in his irises as he watched her from below. She felt warm under his eyes, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt to keep herself from preening like a dove under his attention.

His adoring gaze translated into his soft hands trailing over the curve of her form, his palms warming the ladder of his ribs with his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts. Even through her dress, his touch elicited a round of gooseflesh to prickle her skin. Her breath lagged in her lungs. 

Though time hadn't ever felt like much for (Y/N), seeing as she was immortal, Harry had made her impatient. It'd been a handful of days since the last time they had snuck off to their Pocket, but those days had felt like years to her body without his touch. 

The trail of his gaze almost felt tangible, warm and heavy, the longer he watched her. 

"What?" she asked, feeling breathless when he ran his thumbs against the swells of her chest. 

He didn't bother to pull his eyes from where they lingered on her body, especially liking the way her thighs were split around his hips under the hem of her dress. "Nothing," he mumbled, shaking his head against the pillows cushioned underneath, "Jus' haven't had y'on top in a while. I like it." 

She had thought before that greed was the only sin he could inspire in her, but lust was quickly overtaking the top spot. He was right; she didn't usually get a chance to look at him like this. While she loved lying underneath him, at his mercy while he drove himself home between her legs, there was something to be said about the perspective she gained while sitting astride his lap like this. 

His hair laid in soft waves against the linen of this pillows, curling towards his face as if a frame for a portrait. His lashes were long and dark, framing his eyes and drawing his prey in at a glance. There was a spray of freckles glancing off the bridge of his nose, faint against the cream of his skin. Though his eyes were dark, there were shatters of green that could be seen if one were close enough to spot the hues. His body was made of strong lines and angles, his jaw, much of the same despite the soft skin of his lips and the gentle way he admired her. 

He was the perfect demon—the perfect temptation. If not for the fact she knew what was hidden away, she would have argued he was an angel like her. 

"I like it, too," she told him, breathless, "I like it when you look at me like that." 

"Yeah?" he prodded, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth when he finally matched her gaze. His hands on her sides drifted down until he met the hem of her dress, taking the delicate material between his fingers. "Can I see more of you then, darling? Promise I'll keep looking at you like this."

Biting back her smile, she drew her hands away from his chest to grab for the hem of her dress. Moving his own hands back, he watched as she pulled her dress over her head, wings tucked against her back with the material drifting over her feathers. The familiar butterflies that came with revealing her body in a way she had never anticipated she would in her angel life flittered through her stomach. Their fluorescent wings flew high enough to glance over the chambers of her heart, feeling just as real as the warmth of his eyes draping over her newly exposed skin. Between Harry's legs, she felt a ridge thicken, pressing into her core with every drawing breath she pulled into her lungs. 

Throwing her dress to the floor, her form was left with only a dainty pair of underwear sitting on her hips and a matching bra barely covering her breasts. 

Harry's dark eyes seemingly left behind the slight hue of green, instead revealing only pitch black irises that blended seamlessly into his pupils. If any more of his control slipped, the whole of his eyes would match the inky darkness—a sight (Y/N) used to fear that now had her blood pumping. 

He couldn't help himself before he had his hands on her once more. His touch was adoring, lingering and warm. 

"Y'planned for this didn't you?" he mused, raising a brow when he met her eyes. 

"What do you mean?" she asked, canting her head with her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

"You know," he drawled, his hips shifting underneath her own with a cursory roll, "I thought y'were an angel, and here y'are dressing in lingerie to seduce a demon. How'd y'even get into heaven, hm?" 

The way he spoke to her was thrilling in a way that could rival his touch; he made her feel dirty, questioning how someone like the girl in his lap could have snuck into heaven, while touching and looking at her with reverence she could only keen under. 

"I thought you liked it when I did this," she countered, her lips tugging into a faux-frown. 

"Oh, I do, darling. Can't you tell?" 

With that, the slow roll he'd given with his hips morphed into a strong buck against her hips. The ridge she'd felt before was now a bulge, heavy and pushing. Her wings fluttered recalling the last time he had stuffed himself inside her, her legs thrown over his shoulders and tears in her eyes. 

The memory had her shifting her hips against his, rolling her core over the bulge she felt in his lap. Harry's breath hitched just as a petite moan hummed from her chest. His hands on her waist tightened, fingertips denting the soft flesh. 

"Do that again for me, darling," Harry murmured, his voice a low rumble as if it were a secret only to be shared with her, "Put on a pretty show for me." 

Planting her hands on his abdomen, feeling the blocks of muscle underneath his shirt, she steadied herself on him as she began rolling her hips against his once more. The rough texture of his jeans could be felt through her thin panties, both his thickening cock and the seaming of his pants pressing into her clit. Her knees planted on either side of his hips were digging into the mattress, spreading that much wider the more she rocked against him to sink herself onto him that much more. Her wings fluttered behind her, her feathers fanning in a short fluff at her back. 

Under her hands, Harry's stomach was tense, muscles densely bunched together. She glanced up at him to find him watching her with hooded eyes, his gaze feeling just as heavy and tangible as his hands on her waist. The sight had her grinding her hips that much harder against his cock, a shiver thrilling up her spine until a breathless moan fell from her lips. 

"I could watch you all day, darling," Harry mused, his voice rumbling under her hands as much as it reached her ears, "But, we don't have that kind of time, do we?" 

"No," she answered automatically, a whine to her voice as she shook her head. She didn't really feel like thinking about how quickly their time would be cut short. 

His hands on her waist slid down until he reached her hips, his grip solidifying until he had her stopped in her tracks. Her fingers curled in the material of his shirt, her bottom lip sinking under the weight of her teeth. 

"Get me out, darling."

Maybe it was the deep rumble of his voice, or the steadfast contact of his eyes with hers, but (Y/N) could have melted in that moment. Her lungs squeezed with her heart rattling behind her ribs. It was only when a smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth that she realized she had lingered too long admiring him. 

Unfurling her hands from his top, she fumbled at the waist of his pants. Every shifting of her hips against his lap had her in a daze, making it that much harder to concentrate on following his instructions—something he was well aware of with the way he had his own pelvis rocking upwards as if he didn't know what he was doing. 

Pulling down his jeans enough to expose his black briefs, (Y/N) could have breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to hook her fingers in the waist of his underwear. A spray of goosebumps touched at his skin, his cock visibly jumping when she reached for his cock. 

His skin was heated, shaft thick with his head leaking by the time she had her fist wrapped around him. Shoving his briefs down enough to pull him out, (Y/N) had her attention stolen and pinned to his cock. The head was leaking and red, a pearl of precum glossing from his slit. She instinctively wrapped her hadn't around his shaft, feeling the ridge of his head under her palm and the pumping of the vining vein wrapped around. A heavy breath shuddered through his chest at the touch. (Y/N) couldn't keep her eyes off of him, lusty adrenaline sparking through her system at the thought that he was in this state because of her. 

"You're so cute, darling," Harry said, breathless as he drew her out of her head. 

"Huh?" she murmured, tearing her eyes away from his ruddy cock and the shallow pumps she made around his shaft. 

If he'd had an answer at the ready, he'd cut himself off as he sank into the mattress with a sigh. The pristine pillow compressed under his head when he threw it back in the preludes of ecstasy. 

"Jus' you," he murmured, recovering with his eyes only opening to a slit, "'S always like the first time with, isn't it? Y'always look at me like you've never seen me before—'s cute."

She felt shy all of a sudden, as if she didn't have his cock in her hand. Her wings tucked to her shoulder blades, cocooning her together as if they could shrink and hide her. 

"I like you," she told him, "That's all." 

"Yeah?" he pressed smugly, his cheeks beginning to flush as (Y/N) just laid her hand on him without offering the relief of her fist, "Jus' like me?" 

A bashful tug had her lips curling into a small smile. "I love you." 

"That's what I thought." 

With that, one of his hands on her waist abandoned post only to land on the back of her neck. His palm was a cuff around the warm skin as he curled upwards and tugged her down in the same sweep. His lips met hers in a warm press, his tongue snaking out with the tip dragging along the full of her bottom lip. She didn't have to think before she was opening up for him, running her own tongue across his to get a taste. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn then to get a taste of his pleasure, a moan spilling from his throat and settling on her tongue. Her hand around his cock tightened, the grip snug and clinging. The longer he played with her, his hand tight on the back of her neck as if in fear she would pull away before he was ready, the seat of her panties grew that much more wet. Her toes curled in the bedding at his sides, her free hand pawing at his chest in the lone need to feel him. 

Drawing away just enough to speak, (Y/N)'s lips brushed against his own as she whispered, "I-I want to see you, Harry." 

"'M here, darling," he answered her simply before attempting to dive back in for more. 

"No," she practically pouted, puckering her lips for one more kiss before pleading again, "No, I want more—it's not fair if I'm the only one without my clothes on" 

She could feel him smile into her mouth, his hand offering an affectionate squeeze to the back of her neck before he pulled away. 

"When have I ever been fair, darling?" he prodded, giving her a raised brow as if he wasn't going to give into each and every single one of her demands. 

"You are with me," she countered with a cant to her head.

Something softened in his expression then, as if she didn't have her hand wrapped around his cock. "I suppose I am, aren't I?" 

Peeling his shirt off, the material becoming a black puddle on the bed behind her to reveal the tan skin and inked marks covering his musculature. 

(Y/N) had heard time and time again throughout her existence how demons could never be trusted, that they were a creation that an angel like her shouldn't taint themselves by even breathing next to. She had been told they were slimy skinned, rows of teeth stuffed in their mouths, with eyes that could pull you straight to hell if you looked into them long enough. 

Looking at Harry the way he was now beneath her, she could see why her ancestors would craft such tales; if she had known there were creatures out there that looked the way Harry did, she would have tried to find him the first time she floated from the clouds. 

She couldn't help the way her hands drifted up his chest. Her fingers skimmed over his chest, dancing over the butterfly inked on his stomach and he birds up high by his collarbones. There was a flight layer of goosebumps that rose in her wake. 

A breathy laugh that fell from his lips brought her attention back to the surface, pulling her gaze to flick up and match his. Amusement floated in his irises, a slight smile on his raspberry lips. 

"You're cute," he told her simply. 

"I'm not trying to be cute," she answered, a stubborn set to her jaw. 

That only seemed to amuse him more, a dimple now denting his cheek as his smile grew. "Right," he drawled, "As much as I love letting y'touch all over me, I don't think we have enough time left for y'to have too much fun." 

The reminder was enough to have her mouth fixing into a pout. That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Oh, yeah," she answered sullenly, stilling her hands on his shoulders with her body leant over his. 

"I know," he said, craning his neck to press a small kiss to the corner of her mouth in a lingerie draw, "Next time we're here, we'll spend all night together. I promise."

A dreamy sigh fanned from her lungs at the thought, her eyes falling closed. It'd been a while since they had been able to spend a whole night in the Pocket together—the last time had left her in love and flying wonky the next day. 

She could hear the smile in his voice when he pressed, "Sound good, darling?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, "I want that now." 

"I know y'do," he murmured, "You'll jus' have to settle for me fucking y'fast, then." 

He said it like it was a punishment, as if her heart wasn't in her throat with adrenaline when he flipped her over once more. She was flat on her back, wings cushioned against the mattress when he sunk in between her spread thighs once more. Now, she could feel the weight of the muscles she had grazed her hands over, the width of his form she had been grinding against. 

The movement had stolen her breath, leaving her chest heaving as he looked down at her. The intensity was back once more, keeping his irises dark as he glazed his eyes over each and every line of her body. He lingered on the line of her bra, surely pinpointing where her rattling heart was scheduled by her ribs. 

"What do y'need from me, darling?" Harry mumbled, the blunt of his nails grazing the soft skin of her stomach as he dragged his hands towards the waist of her panties. 

Speaking through her shudder, she shook her head, "No-Nothing—I want you." 

Harry looked entirely too smug, the curl on his lips one she recognized even as far back as the first time they met. Back then, she couldn't stand the sight—unsure of how a demon could be proud of anything they did. Now, it was one of her favorite things, knowing she had made him feel proud of himself (at least she liked to think of it that way). 

"Y'can have me, darling," he assured her, one of his hands dripping from the waist of her underwear and down between her legs, "But, are y'wet enough for me, or do y'need some help?" 

His thumb grazed her clit, her body jumping at the slight touch. She could feel her insides pulsing, grasping for something that wasn't there yet. 

"I-I don't need help," she stuttered, pushing her hips against his hand in impatience, "Harry, please. I don't want you to leave before we're done." 

A pinch appeared between his brows then as he hooked his fingers into the gusset of her underwear, pulling the material to the side. "I would never leave y'like that, you know that. I'll always take care of m'angel."

As if to prove his point, she watched as he fisted his cock and ran the head along her folds. The air had been seemingly sucked out of the room at that moment, leaving her with a shuddering breath leaving her lungs and eyes fighting to close. She could feel his heavy gaze watching her as he nudged his cock against her pulsing opening, a small tease before he pulled back to slide through her folds once more. 

"Y'sure you're ready for me?" he teased, drawing out his words for just a second longer of the torture. 

"Harry, please," she told him, sounding a bit pathetic to her own ears though there was no guilt in the act. "I need you." 

He loved it when she pleaded with him like that. On longer nights, he would have pressed for more, taken any and every bit of begging she could offer, but she was sure the time limit was in the back of his mind when he didn't continue teasing. 

With a fluid push of his hips, he sunk in between her hips. (Y/N)'s lips fell open at the stretch, a moan getting stuck in her throat to leave nothing more than a heavy puff of air falling from her mouth. Harry's gaze was concentrated on where they were connected, his length disappearing inside her. His hand stretching back her panties let go when he bottomed out, his base pressing into her budding clit. 

His chest was heaving when he finally looked up at her once more. She could see the boundary of his irises beginning to waver, the black bleeding into the sclera. He was losing control in the most thrilling sense, the idea causing her walls to pulse around his splitting length. 

"'S been too long, darling," he told her, voice a low rumble. 

"Uh-huh," she sounded, giving a pathetic nod of her head with her hands fisting the bedding at her sides. She wanted so badly to reach for him, feel his skin under her palms, but feared flying away if she let go before she had her head on straight. 

"Never gonna wait this long again, 'kay?" Rearing back his hips, he grunted when he pushed through her channel once more. 

A puff of air left (Y/N)'s lungs once his hips pressed against hers in a slap, as if he had knocked it right out of her. Settling his hands on the bones of her hips, his thumbs stretched up towards the curve of her waist in a gentle sweeping that opposed the strength of his grip. He held her steady as he curated a fluid pace, knocking the breath out of her each time he sank inside her. 

(Y/N)'s breathing came in puffs every time she felt his tip nudge deep inside her, her body being pushed further and further into the mattress. Without his hands on her body keeping her place, she would have hit her head on the headboard by now, she figured, the thought being one that would have made her laugh if not for the fact that she was in the middle of something. 

"You're so tight," he gritted out, his voice deep and rumbling through his chest, "Thought y'said y'were ready for me." 

"I am, I am," she rushed out, pausing when he gave her a particularly punishing thrust, "I-Its been too long, re-rememeber?" 

His hands squeezed her hips that much more at her words. "I know, darling. Gonna have to make this one last then. Can't stretch y'out every time we fuck, can we?" 

Mindlessly, she shook her head, willing to agree with any and everything he was saying at the moment. She wouldn't mind him taking the time to stretch her out every time he pulled her to bed, but now wasn't the time to get greedy—she already had his cock rearranging her organs, there wasn't much more she could pine for, was there?

Except for maybe touching him herself. 

Not wanting to distract him from his job, (Y/N) unfurled her fingers from the sheets at her sides, reaching towards the thick of his arms. Her fingernails sunk into the skin, leaving small moon shapes that would no doubt still be pink by the time he was having to slip out and meet his friend. She liked the idea, her fingers clenching that much more, that a part of her would remain with him even when they couldn't be together. 

Harry was seemingly spurred on by the touch, hips knocking into hers in heady strokes. She was going to have bruises tomorrow, but she didn't care. Her mouth dropped open, small uh's leaving her parted lips in time with every push of his hips. 

"Harry, I-I," she started, her voice catching in her throat before she could say much more. 

"'M right here, darling, 's alright," he attempted to soothe her though his voice was strained and breathy with every thrust he sunk inside her. 

Her mouth was dry by the time she found her voice again, her eyes fluttering to a close. "I—Can—I want to touch—" 

That was all she managed to get out before a bubbling moan fell from her lips when he dared to grind against her once bottoming out. Through her taut underwear, he pressed against her clit, her body jumping at the touch.

"But you are touching me," he drawled, bringing her back down as he pulled his hips back. 

She knew he was only trying to goad her, get her stubborn and petulant in the way that always made him laugh, but she didn't care. It was going to work, but she would leave her scolding for later. 

"You know what I mean, Harry" she argued, peeling her eyes open to find him looking at her with that smug smile as if he wasn't exerting all of his energy into stealing her breath away. "You're being so mean to me!" 

"I'm being mean to you?" he repeated, the rhythm of his hips slowing just a hair when he brought the intensity of his gaze to match hers. "You really think that right now, darling?" 

"Yes, I do," she whined, now upset by the fact he was slowing down and not letting her touch him. She wrapped her legs around his hips from where he was knelt between her thighs in hopes of spurring him on, feeling the ridge of his length pressing through. 

One of his hands on her hips slid up her body, skating over her tummy and between her breasts until he landed on her neck. His palm laid flat on her collarbones with his fingers wrapping around her throat, a slight pressure. His hips worked in shallow thrusts, barely pulling his length out before he was pushing in once more. 

"Are you sure?" he pressed, a slight pressure closing in on the side of her throat as he squeezed that much more, "If this isn't enough for you, I can show y'how mean I can really be." 

(Y/N) felt her eyes round out as she gazed up at him, her heart stuttering in her chest. Time seemingly stood still in that moment, every detail melting away to leave only Harry in focus. 

"Oh my god," she murmured, her voice squeaking through her throat.

A slow smile tugged up the corner of Harry's lips. "No god, darling. Jus' me." 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to buck her hips against his, urging him for more. She could feel her walls fluttering around him, her wings at her back struggling against the mattress with their own restless energy begging to fluff out. 

Harry kept his hand as an anchoring weight on her throat as he dropped back into the rhythm of his hips, tightening in pulsing squeezes just long enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head before lightening up once more. His own control—despite the facade he was offering to (Y/N)—began to waver that much more. His eyes were almost completely black, the inky veins snaking out to envelope the sclera with every punishing thrust. The moment (Y/N) was back on Earth, peeling her eyes open enough, she swore she saw glimpses of his glamor fading, revealing the large black wings shrouding his back. 

He was close, that much she was sure of. 

"A-are you going to cum?" she asked, voice rumbling under his hand.

Shaking his head, he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. "Not until you, darling. Angels first." 

"But, I can see your wings." 

His breathing came in pants. "I know, but you're still finishing first, darling." 

Taking his hand off her neck, the ghost of his warmth left behind, Harry wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her off the bed. Repositioning himself, he knelt on the mattress as he dragged her into his lap. His cock was snug inside her when she settled over his thighs, feeling just that much deeper with the new angle. 

Wasting no time, he had his hands stationed on her hips once more, setting a pace for her to bounce on his cock. 

"Think y'can fuck yourself like this, darling? Do all the hard work for me?" he murmured, dragging his lips over the same parts of her neck where he had choked her moments before.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she answered, a mindless reflex as he concentrated on matching his grip. 

Using the leverage of her knees on either side of him, she lifted herself off his cock, allowing his head to stretch through her pulsing walls, before sitting herself back down in a smack of her skin against his. It was a relief to put her hands on him, feeling every inch she could reach. Her palms skimmed over the broad of his shoulders, planes of his back, and the thick of his arms all with her nails following closely behind.

Harry did much of the same, trailing up the curve of her spine until he found the base of her wings. (Y/N) couldn't help but to keen into his touch, back arching through it took everything in her to keep from getting distracted and keep riding him like he had asked. 

The first graze of his fingers over her feathers was enough to get her stomach tightening, and mouth dropping into a moan. She could feel him smiling against her neck, too proud over her reaction. 

"Always so cute, even when y'don't mean to be, you know that?" he murmured, dotting a kiss just below her ear, "All I've got to do is touch your feathers, and you're done for." 

She wanted to say something, tell him that it wasn't that easy, but there was nothing that would escape her lips other than puffs of heavy breath and whining moans.  

Rocking his hips up to meet hers, that much more pleasure settled in her stomach. As much as she wanted to argue with him that she wasn't that easy to make cum, there was some truth behind the fact that she was flying towards the finish line with every brush of his fingers and rock of his hips. 

"I can feel y'squeezing me, darling," he murmured, dragging his mouth over the line of her jaw in a lingering kiss, "Y'gonna cum for me? Did I finally work hard enough for you?" 

Despite the fact he'd asked her a question, there was no way he had been expecting an answer with the way he wiggled his fingertips through the brush of her feathers and coasted along the bony structure underneath. He knew she wouldn't be able to survive that, a long moan choking out from her throat with her stomach too tight to bear. 

(Y/N) tried to keep her pacing as best she could—something she couldn't believe Harry was able to do all the time—, but the rhythm was undoubtedly interrupted as she came around him. She could feel every inch of him as her insides pulsed around him, taking in the ridge of his head and the length that had split her open in the first place. His base was pressed heavily against her clit, rivaling the pressure of his fingers dancing through her feathers. 

She wanted to be present but the heavens called to her then, the Pocket left behind for a few lingering moments. By the time she was floating back down to Earth, Harry's hands settling on her hips as he lifted her off his cock, the sight before her was enough to get her back to square one, wishing they more time. 

Harry's eyes were now completely pitch black, no more white sclera or shatters of green to be seen. His glamour had faded away, leaving the leather stretch of his wings visible, the span much larger than her own as they fanned out around them. The webbing cocooned around them, creating a curtain around her body as if there wasn't enough of him touching her already. 

His cock shone in the low light between them, her slick coating him as he fisted the length. It only took a few passes of his hand before his cum blurted out in thick ropes across her stomach. 

"Fuck—(Y/N)—I—" Nothing of coherence fell from his lips then, every bit of concentration laid to rest as he watched himself cum on an angel. 

A furrow had his brows pinched together, his eyes hooded and dark. His mouth was stagnant in a gape once he stopped trying to speak. 

It wasn't until the remaining spurts of his cum rolled down his shaft and his ruddy head was seemingly beginning to stain purple that he pulled his shaky hands away. Using his wings as well as his hands, he hugged (Y/N) to his chest with his softening cock between them. Even with the mess that was beginning to dry on her stomach, he held her tight, pressing hard kisses to her temple and side of her face until he met her lips. 

"Y'okay?" he panted to her, the tip of his nose nudging against her own. 

"I'm okay," she murmured, wrapping her own arms around his neck. 

"Happy?" he asked, just the same as he always did in these quiet moments after the storm. 

A small smile stretched over her lips. "Happy." 

Gently laying her backwards, Harry kept himself glued to her, wings and all, as they settled among the sheets. Despite the fact he had no discernible pupil, she could feel his gaze traveling over her features and taking her in as he always did. She felt bashful under his eyes, her own wings shyly tucking into her back. 

"What is it, darling?" he asked, sweeping a few stray hairs from her face. 

"Nothing, just... You." 

"Just me?" he countered, reaching blindly for his discarded shirt he'd tossed earlier. 

"Just you," she repeated with a breathy laugh, allowing him to wipe his mess away with his shirt. (How he had the courage to clean her up with it knowing that he'd have to wear it out to meet his friend later, she wasn't sure). "How long can you stay?" 

Harry's features took on a somber set at her words, just the same as she felt. "Not long, darling. Jus' long enough to make sure y'get to sleep, then I'll have to leave." 

"What if I don't fall asleep?" 

The smile he gave her told her that he was very familiar with the game she was beginning to play with him. 

"Guess I'll have to stay." 

Despite the black eyes and leathery bat wings sprouting from his back, the sweet smile and boyish dimples in Harry's cheeks could rival that of any angel in (Y/N)'s opinion. 

That was why they worked, she thought as she snuggled closer to him: she brought out the angel in him and he showed her just how fun sinning could be.

—————

ahhhh I guess this is my little contribution to the valentines day vibe this year! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas send them in!! I also have more writing available on my patreon if you want more :)

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 24- Holding Back

yeah so... it's angel yn x demon h smut and it's filthy so here we goooo.

Fictober

Patreon

WARNINGS- demon h, angel Y/N, mean Dom h, dumbification, degradation, choking, hair pulling, etc. Just filth.

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Holding her hair in a ponytail, Harry’s hand drug her back to press her back against his sweaty chest. His hips continued to move, the slap of skin audible in the room, but Y/N was trying to keep it down. 

 “You’re holding back.” He hissed into her ear, the tingles of her hair being gripped and his lips so close making her body shiver. The demon was rough with her, just the way she’d found herself craving, one hand curling around her throat as she let out the most pathetic whimper she’d ever hear. “Who cares if anyone hears, hm? It’s what you need to do.”

His cock was deep in her, fucking into her sopping wet cunt, and he knew he was directly where she liked being fucked. “Poor little Angel. Still so afraid of letting people see even a bit of Dirt.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts and hitting deep, making her mouth fall open and a wheezy squeak leaving her lips. 

“I think that’s what it is. Y’walk around, like you’re this holy, sweet, innocent little thing. Perfect Angel, so soft spoken and touch so delicate. But when the door is closed.” He squeezed a bit harder with his fingers on her throat, making her gasp again. “The door is closed and you’re getting your holes fucked by the very creature you claim to hate. Sweet little Angel Y/N, God’s favorite… Is getting raw fucked by the demon who followed you home.” He snickered, loving that he had been her downfall. 

If Y/N wasn’t in the midst of pleasure, she would smack him hard. She would turn her nose up in the air, stomp her foot and leave. But she wasn’t there, she was being fucked by said man so well that her body was clay for him to model, her cunt wrapped around him and getting sparks of pleasure rendering her brain useless. “Hm? No retort from the pretty ice queen?” His tongue licked over her jaw, letting her breathe better for a moment as she shook her head. It was the right answer, because she was rewarded with her hair being released and sneaking down to rub at her throbbing clit. 

“Right answer, Angel girl. Got you so drunk on my cock that you’ve turned into a braindead little slut.” His voice got rougher, making her clench around him. He was soaked with her arousal, balls dripping with it, and he was enjoying every second of it. “Big and proper when we’re out there but the moment we’re alone you fall to the ground and mouth at my cock, get on those knees and open that pretty little mouth just so I can spit into it, fuck it… whatever I want because you’re just my little toy, yeah Angel?” He felt her try to nod, but that wasn’t enough.  “Use your words. Tell me you’re just my toy to fuck.” 

“I’m just… I’m your- I’m just your toy to f-fuck.” She shivered, her brain pleasantly floating as he fucked her. Y/N didn’t know sex could be as good as it was and surely she would pretend to hate depraved things such as this when she left the room- but something about the demon made her want to submit fully. Allowed herself to go blank, to take him the way he wanted her to. “Please,please,please, can I?” She pleaded, wanting so badly to cum. The stroke of his cock and his fingers rubbing over her clit and the nibbling of her jaw, it was the perfect storm. She was so close to letting go, so close to cumming all over his thick cock and then- 

He stopped. Fingers stilling on her clit, cock buried to the hilt and stopping, Y/N cried out in loss as he cooed at her. “None of that. You’re going to cum when I want you to, beautiful thing. If you’re going to turn your back on me out there, that’s fine. But I want you to remember being edged as many times as you can be. Roll your eyes at me saying hello next time and m’not going to let you come at all. You’ve got to be reminded what you are.” He kissed away a tear, pulling her to lay her head back on him. “A slut for a demon, a personal whore. You’ve signed up for this, you come knocking at my door to apologize… Give me this sweet body and a promise of being better next time… I think the only way to make a girl like you learn, is if I take away what you’re after.” Harry’s hand crawled up her belly, pressing over where he was sure he was buried, rocking back and forth into her to get some relief. 

“Because none of those angels can fuck you the way you want. You want flower petals and champagne and a slow rock of a fuck? Go on to them. But you won’t because underneath that angelic body, lays the prettiest, most willing to please slut that wants a pounding.” His chuckle made her shudder again, pressing his lips to her cheek. “As long as you remember you’re mine and show me a bit more respect? I can continue to make this happen. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes- yeah, I do Harry. I’m sorry.” She whined, cut off when his hand smacked over her breast.  As much as she tried, Harry was the one who shut her brain off. Let her focus on pleasure and give her a sweet pain to remember the next day, making her feel more alive than she had ever been. “I am yours, I promise.” 

“I know that.” He stated. “Get back down and turn around. Want to see you cry for my cum.”

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝟏

➯ Y/N ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONS A DEMON AND HE WON’T LEAVE HER ALONE. ✰ demon!harry no warnings. 𝑤𝑐 7k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Y/N has never been so mortified in her entire life. She thinks this might be it for her—that life should just end here—because there is no way in hell she is ever going to step foot outside ever again.

How can she after what has happened?

Worst of all (and there are many factors), the disastrous tragedy occurred at her workplace meaning she has no other choice but to find a new job and the thought only causes more hysteria, a fresh wave of tears soaking her skin as she sits hunched in the middle of her bed—hands over her face like they will hide her from the world.

And she had been so excited to wake up this morning; whispers about the new boss floating around the office all week had Y/N utterly intrigued about what she would be like (she’s struggled not to create an idyllic picture of what life at work could become; she often tends to get too deep inside her head and create false realities, and she knows she needs to find another coping mechanism but Y/N can’t help that her imagination is larger than her self-control!). So, when her alarm had gone off, she was up immediately, not even stopping to savour the warmth of her sheets, and getting ready.

And maybe now, looking back after the day she’s had, she may have recognised the signs of misfortune ahead of her, but in the moment nothing could have distracted her.

First it's her period starting, which is okay because she caught it without making a mess and she’d top up on painkillers before she left home. The second thing is entirely her fault because she always gets especially clumsy and jittery when she is excited or nervous, so of course she is going to trip and twist her ankle—but that is also not so bad because she is already taking painkillers for her period so there is no extra harm done. Y/N feels entirely unaffected by both of these things, still buzzing to get out of the door, until she goes to make breakfast and realises she has run out of her favourite cereal, which she’ll admit does put a bit of a frown on her face. (But a frown is nothing during that time of the month so she reacts considerably much better than she usually would!) So she’d had to have toast instead which was fine but undoubtedly interrupts the routine she has looked forward to since the night prior, and as it turns out it only spirals further.

The drive to work is standard, and Y/N has already forgotten about her minor inconveniences, refusing to wince as she gets out of the car—too stubborn to acknowledge that the painkillers have not effectively worked at numbing the pain in her ankle. She’d proudly forgone coffee, knowing she was probably a bit too wired already—and she absolutely could not entertain the possibility of accidentally spilling it on anyone, let alone her new boss—so as she enters the office as casually as possible on her throbbing ankle, she is relieved to see her favourite co-worker, Imogen, waiting for her by the elevator holding two cups of what Y/N hopes isn’t what she’d thought to avoid. Imogen sports a grin as soon as she spots her, enthusing Y/N to hurry up with a nod of her head.

“I got you a tea. Thought you might be a bit too on-edge for loads of caffeine,” She says, as soon as Y/N is near.

Smiling, Y/N hums, cradling the mug in her hands, “Thank you, Gen.” She sips, feeling the hot liquid trail down her throat, her brain given a moment to breathe.

Y/N thinks that was the last her brain (or lungs) has breathed in the last 5 hours. She’s a blubbering mess and her hormones have really kicked in now, along with the swelling of her ankle which makes moving so hard, and she’s feeling so sorry for herself she doesn’t know what to do. Everything is on replay in her head, and it gets worse every time, new consequences shouting at Y/N from the depths of her mind.

What if Imogen doesn’t want to be seen with you anymore because you’ve ruined her reputation by association? What if someone filmed the whole thing and it goes viral on Twitter? Then you won’t be employed ever again. What if your family refuses to talk to you, what if your boss sues you, what if you get kicked out of your apartment, what if—

“What’s happened to you then?”

Y/N shrieks, head whipping up so fast she’s lucky she doesn’t add a pulled neck muscle to her list of injuries. Across from her bed, sitting comfortably in her armchair that she likes to read in, is a man. She thinks she’s hallucinating for a moment because there is little explanation as to how or why there would be a man in her bedroom. And she’s still crying, but now she’s terrified, so words don’t exactly come easily.

“Who—What—How did you get in here?” She tries to shuffle back against her headboard, too shocked to be careful with her ankle and her arms buckle as the pain shoots up her foot, causing her eyes to well up again and she feels so useless at this moment. “Please get out of my house.” The words come out wet, fresh tears rolling down her face, the severity of the situation sinking in. She, hopelessly slowly, moves as far away from him as possible, keeping her legs deadly still until her back reaches the pillows and she pulls one onto her lap—maybe she can throw it at him.

The man leans forward, expression completely blank. He looks bored, if anything, as if she has inconvenienced him. “You’re the one that brought me here, sad thing. Why are you in such a tizzy, hm?” He looks her over, taking in the mess of hair on her head, her red, tearful eyes, wet cheeks and swollen mouth, and simply leans back in the chair again.

Y/N can’t even begin to process what he’s saying and knows she needs to get out, that this man can only be here for bad, and that she’ll have to pretend there is nothing wrong with her ankle. So she makes the effort—at least she’ll know she tried to help herself—as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, pillow in hand, ignoring the screaming pain. She’ll have to hop.

The wall welcomes her hand as she pitifully makes her way to the door, taking a glance behind her, checking to see the man sitting in her chair. But he’s gone and she gasps as she looks forward and he’s stood in the doorway, looking down at her. Y/N goes to throw the pillow at him (knowing it's embarrassingly futile and if she were watching herself in a movie would rightly feel she deserved to be killed; the humour of the situation fails to comfort her) but it doesn’t even leave her hands before he plucks it away and drops it on the floor.

“Why don’t you stop panicking and tell me why you summoned me?” He steps forward forcing Y/N to retreat clumsily, tripping backwards and landing against the side of her bed, face crumpling in pain as her ankle gets folded underneath her bum. He stares down, face hinting at an amused smirk as if her distress is entertaining. Maybe she really is hallucinating. This can’t be real, people can’t be summoned.

“I’m almost inclined to believe you actually don’t know what’s going on. I’ve truly never seen anyone so scared of a demon they’ve willingly invited in,” the man’s voice is slow and deep, nearly enough so to make sense but Y/N has a headache now along with everything else and she really just wants to go to sleep.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Y/N whimpers, pulling herself onto her bed. Her head is spinning but she feels mellow suddenly, eyelids drooping, inhaling a delicate scent of vanilla and lime. In the chaos, she realises she’s stopped crying, and even the attempt to recall the day’s events are blocked as if something is stopping her from thinking.

“I guess we’ll try again once you’ve slept,” she hears the man sigh and sit down, presumably in the chair she first saw him in. But her eyes are closed now and she feels herself drifting away into a blissful slumber.

When Y/N wakes up she thinks she’s just had the weirdest dream in the history of dreams. The sun is streaming through her open curtains, a gentle breeze from the window, and she can’t remember how long she’s been asleep but she must’ve gone through the whole night. She’s so disorientated that she nearly forgets that the work incident wasn’t contained in her sleep fantasy, but before she can start the loop inside her head again, her organs chirp up and Y/N hobbles to the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, she’s able to assess the damage to her ankle; the skin is bruising, a purple and green hue creeping over the swelling. Y/N is pretty sure it’s Friday, but she’s also pretty sure that she’s assumed to be sick after rushing out of the office building and into her car quicker than she has ever moved in her life. Maybe she’ll message Imogen and ask her to cover for her.

The only thing Y/N wants is to crawl back into bed and hug her pillow and maybe cry some more, so she finishes up in the bathroom, finds some painkillers in the cabinet and limps back to the comfort of her sheets. She climbs under and sits against her pillows, taking the pills with the two-day-old glass of water on her bedside table.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The man from her dream appears in the doorway, sipping from her favourite mug.

Y/N jolts, spilling water all over her covers, and memories she assumed were a part of her dream materialise in front of her, along with a familiar vanilla and lime scent. And she’s too tired and fed up to move, a tiny part of her feeling as though he would’ve tried something by now if he was going to at all.

But she’s frowning at him. “That’s my favourite mug! I’d rather you didn’t use that.” Her voice is congested and croaky, but her annoyed tone isn’t missed—priorities clearly well in check.

The man tilts his head slightly as if caught off guard. “But I’m not finished.” He gestures with his hand that’s holding the mug. He seems mellow and suddenly so does Y/N and it would be so easy for her to lie down and close her eyes.

“How did you get into my house? Did you chloroform me last night?” She asks, head suddenly fuzzy. “Are you doing it right now?” Words coming out in mumbles.

“You summoned me. No. And no.” He doesn’t move from the doorway, only adjusting to lean against the frame.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t summon you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do I feel so foggy?” She clumsily puts the glass down, banging it about a couple of times before letting go.

“I’m trying to keep you calm so I can do my job properly, last night was a little intense, hm?”

“What do you mean? How did you get here?” Y/N is starting to get frustrated with the number of times she’s asked him that question. “Can you stop talking in riddles?”

“Sure, I’ll humour you,” he sighs. “Are you going to freak out if I sit down?” He nods to the chair he’d appeared in last night. She shakes her head faintly, eyes following him as he takes a seat. “I’m a demon. I spend my life catering to people. When somebody wants something done, very often a lazy human, they can summon a demon to do it for them. But not without some sort of price. So, you’ve clearly gone through something, oh so traumatic,” he pouts mockingly, “and you summoned me to make things better. Is that right, sad, little thing?”

Y/N is inclined to laugh right in his face, but the word demon is hanging over her head like a big, red DANGER sign and she second-guesses herself. So she shakes her head again. “No,” she sniffles, utterly overwhelmed. “Stop messing with my head.”

He stretches out in the chair, like a big cat who has just woken from a nap. “Are you gonna get all teary again if I do? I really can’t be bothered to wait for you to sleep it off a second time.”

She’s shaking her head vigorously this time, and it’s almost like she can see the sweet smell of vanilla and lime dancing away until all the tendrils have been sucked out the window. And the panic rises immediately, her chest constricting as she tries to breathe in and it gets stuck. The man rolls his eyes, drinking the rest of the cup’s contents before placing it on the floor.

“I’ve put your favourite mug down,” he pulls a mocking, tight-lipped smile, as if that would quell the anxiety of having him in her bedroom. “Now tell me why were you crying yesterday. Quickly.”

“I don’t want your help,” she says quietly, closing her eyes to block as much of him out as possible—trying to breathe. “You can go, I don’t need your help.”

“Ah, well, that’s not how it works, is it? I told you how it works. There’s a price. I can’t leave until I fulfil my job and you pay me.” He starts picking at his nails which Y/N notices are painted a pretty, blush colour. She looks at her own, a nude that she only recently put on, already chipping.

“I don’t care, I want you to go, please,” tears are brimming her eyes and she finds herself looking away so he doesn’t ridicule her for crying again. “I unsummon you, or whatever.”

“You said you weren’t going to cry,” she looks up, causing a drop to spill over and she wipes it away quickly. “If you don’t tell me what you were weeping over, I will force you to. And I don’t think you’ll enjoy that very much.”

Y/N doesn’t want to know how he would do that, so she gives in. “I just had a bad day,” she starts. She thinks once she says it all out loud it’ll get better… maybe. The man looks at her, expectantly. “It was the first day we were all meeting our new boss and I was so excited to get to work, but my period had started which meant my emotions were haywire, and I twisted my ankle, and my favourite cereal was all gone, and—”

“—Your favourite cereal was all gone? Really? That’s important to why you were crying?” He scoffs, “Humans are so odd.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Y/N frowns at him, placing her arms around herself in a hug. He gives a dismissive look. “So I was restless, and my ankle hurt, and I hadn’t even got to work yet. And then I arrived and I met Gen, and she’d brought me a tea,” she breathes in, “and then we get in the elevator, and I’m trying to stay calm—I thought I was doing a pretty good job too, but then we get to our floor and we walk to our desks and—” She inhales shakily, bottom lip wobbling.

“Come on, you’re getting somewhere.” He somewhat encourages, mouth curled upwards derisively but eyes gentle.

“Well, I realise I’ve left my phone in my car and I’m rushing because the boss was arriving soon and I decided to run the stairs, as the lift takes too long and I hate standing still when I’m nervous.” Her words are nearly indecipherable. “So I start to go down the stairs and I’m thinking really loudly so I can’t hear anyone else coming up, plus my ankle is screaming. And—and I run straight into the boss and she falls down the stairs—” Y/N breaks off in a snivel, “I could’ve killed her! She could’ve broken her neck or something, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran to my car and I left! Who does that? I’m so embarrassed, and upset, and I feel so guilty that I just left her there because I freaked out and—”

“That’s it?” The man stands up, clear disbelief written all over his face.

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Some of Y/N’s upset is displaced by the imminent shock she feels as he stands up, and she watches as his eyes fill with a blackness as dark as ink, swirling in smoky tendrils, until the whites and pupils are completely cloaked. “You’re just a spoiled brat, aren’t you?” He tuts. “Sitting there, crying your eyes out because you tripped a woman up.

“You know people summon me to kill? To enact revenge on the most evil of injustices. And I’m here because you pushed a woman down the stairs.” He scoffs, eyes still void of colour as he walks to the window, opening it as much as possible, and leaning his palms against the frame.

“Are you going to kill me?” Y/N asks, unsurprised that a man who claims to be a demon is a murderer but aware once again that he is in her bedroom.

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t listen, do you? No, I’m not going to kill you,” he looks over his shoulder, glancing at her dishevelled state. “I very easily could though,” he steps to the foot of her bed. “You’re a delicate, little thing. And you’ve hurt yourself so you can’t run away. I could end it all so quickly you wouldn’t even feel it, or I could drag it out forever. I could suspend you in a permanent state of dying.” His words die out, ending in a whisper, hand reaching for her leg over the covers and Y/N jerks it back—watching a grin appear.

Y/N doesn’t know how to look at him, scared that if she stares into his eyes for too long her heart will slowly stop beating or that she’ll wither like a plant. Either way, it’s like she can’t blink. It’s as if she can feel her pupils dilating, brain struggling to catch up with what she’s seeing in front of her. The man only grins wider, trailing his finger across the patterns on her sheets.

“I suppose I better help you out then, hm? And then you can pledge your soul to me and all of this will be over.”

Y/N flinches, “Pledge my what?”

“Well, what else would you expect from a demon?” He’s still smiling but his eyes are clearing and through the ink, his green irises are revealed once again.

“I don’t know… Money? Why would anyone pledge their soul to a—” She catches herself and looks at him, cautiously. He’s staring at her, mouth upturned.

“A what? Careful, now.” He walks around to the side of her bed, peering down at her whilst fiddling with the glass on her bedside table. She’s never felt so naked in her entire life as she does right now.

“You know,” she blinks meekly, “you said you kill people—”

“—Bad people.” He interjects.

“Okay, well that still makes you a murderer… so pledging my soul to you, or whatever, just sounds like a really bad idea. I don’t get how this helps me at all—you can’t kill my boss.”

Sighing, he says, “I’m really losing my patience with you now. Get up,” authority in his voice as he grabs her upper arm and tugs, causing her legs to tangle with the sheets as she is torn from her position. Y/N yelps and instinctively shoots her other arm out for support, inadvertently punching him in the stomach. He lets out a disgruntled noise and pulls the hand off of his body immediately, dragging her with more force so she can stand upright.

“Ow!” Y/N cries, “I can’t stand on it.” Her face is crumpled, looking towards the floor and she feels his grip loosen as he recognises she’s hurt.

He sighs again and gets down on one knee, pulling her socked foot onto his thigh—albeit very gently. She wobbles and grips his shoulders.

The man rolls his eyes, “Should call you Bambi, can’t balance for the life of you.” He goads.

“W-what are you doing?”

He doesn’t reply, nudging her sock to reveal the swollen skin of her ankle and brushing his fingertips over it. Y/N feels an electric warmth spread up her leg and releases a breath as the pain slowly ebbs away.

“It’s not mended, but you won’t feel it anymore,” he says, standing up. Her eyes trail up to meet his, mouth agape as she puts her weight on her foot and registers the lack of strain.

“How did you do that?” She whispers.

He grins and wiggles his fingers, “Magic,” before he takes a hold of her elbow and they vanish.

They surface, and the building in which Y/N works looms over her ominously—the inevitable walk of shame taunting her and she can feel her brain start to whir; fight or flight program ready to boot up. Y/N spins, hoping to make a quick exit and return to her wallowing in self-pity, but there’s a hand on her elbow so she doesn’t get far at all.

“How did we get here?” She tries to shrug him off, “Let go.”

The man drops her elbow, “No please, Bambi?” He feigns hurt and tuts disapprovingly.

Y/N grumbles and rolls her eyes, “If you’re going to call me that, then I think it’s only fair that I get to call you something.”

“Call me Harry,” he says.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N grits, fighting the urge to stomp like a child.

“You didn’t specify.” Harry flashes a smug grin. She thinks the name is rather ordinary for a demon, but it’s pretty—like him, she supposes. He’s tall, and has tattoos, and paints his nails, and has soft-looking hair. Y/N catches herself and immediately feels silly.

Harry is watching her and suddenly the idea of going to work doesn’t feel so bad. “What are we doing here?” She sighs.

“We’re here to get rid of your problem. G’na glamour the building, make everyone forget, yeah? Take my arm.” He holds his forearm out and Y/N takes it unconvincingly.

“What do you mean, glamour? Is this dangerous? What if someone sees us?” She babbles, watching as Harry turns his full attention to the building. Y/N is too frazzled to notice the words he utters under his breath or that his eyes are cloaked in darkness once again, only vaguely picking up on the scent she’s quickly come to associate with the demon standing next to her. She can’t believe she’s actually referring to him as a demon; she wants to believe it’s all one, big, mean joke but he literally fucking teleported them here. Gosh—Y/N’s headache is debilitating at this point.

“As long as you keep holding on, no one will see us,” Harry assures, muttering a few more words before alerting Y/N, “I’m all done.”

“Done? But nothing happened.”

“Promise you, something happened,” he says. “Now everyone thinks you went home sick yesterday and are coming in late today. And the boss fell down the stairs of her own accord so she’ll be in bed for a couple of days, no lasting damage.”

“What about when they go home? Will they—”

Harry shakes his head vehemently, “What kind of help would that be, hm? Make them forget but only for a little bit, don’t be silly. No one will remember.”

She nods to herself, shaking her hands in front of her, “Okay,” breathing in slowly, deeply, trying to psyche herself up, “okay. What now?”

He nods at the building, “You’ve got work, no?”

Y/N splutters, “But I don’t have my stuff with me! I don’t even have my car, Harry, how will I get home? And I’m still in the clothes I wore yesterday, I’m a mess.” She looks down at herself, distressed, rubbing at her face which is still puffy from all the crying. Harry sighs, thinking that this human must be doing something wrong to be struggling in life this much.

“What time do you finish?”

“Five o’clock.”

He glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s twelve. “I guess I’ll meet you here, then. Try not to push anyone else down the stairs,” he mocks, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

Y/N scowls and starts to hesitantly walk into the office. She chances a look behind her just to see if he’s waving her off like a proud mother—but he has gone—and the only proof he was ever there hangs in the air, before the smell disappears too.

To say Y/N is overwhelmed would be an understatement. Walking into work being an easy task was exactly what she wanted and yet she can’t help but feel guilty, like she’s got this huge illegal secret. But what could she do about it anyway? It’s not like she’s going to phone the boss and say, Oh, by the way, I actually met you yesterday but I nearly killed you by pushing you down the stairs, so I went home crying, and I accidentally summoned a demon and he made you forget so there’s no harm done!

She would be fired on the spot. Or sent to an asylum.

But she can’t focus, and she thinks maybe she should be admitted to an asylum because now that she has time to think… What the fuck? Demons? Glamours? This was stuff from the TV, not real life. And yet Y/N had inadvertently brought it right to her doorstep, just by crying! It’s so silly but the anxiety is rising and Y/N’s palms are starting to sweat, and she hasn’t done a single thing since sitting at her desk (over half an hour ago) and, quite frankly, it’s pissing her off.

Imogen had brought her a tea which Y/N appreciates but only makes her more uneasy with the memory of yesterday. She can feel her eyes on her from across the office, concern clearly plastered over her usually bright face. Y/N meets her gaze and tries to give a reassuring smile that probably comes across as more of a grimace because Imogen is wheeling her way over on her office chair immediately.

“You okay, Y/N?” She asks, hesitantly.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine!” Y/N says a little too enthusiastically. “I’m just a little out of it today, sorry,” she fiddles with her fingers. Imogen looks her over a couple of times.

“I think you’re still sick, maybe you should go home,” Imogen smiles softly, eyes filled with worry.

“Oh no, really, I’m fine, Gen!” Maybe if she says it enough, it’ll become the truth. But as she stares back at Imogen she’s only really focused on the fact that her eyes aren’t clouding with dark shadows.

“You’ve made your lip bleed,” she points out, and Y/N notices the tang of blood on her tongue. She’s eating away at herself, literally—she licks it away quickly, embarrassed at her inability to keep composed.

Imogen stands, “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom—take a break, yeah?”

Y/N can only nod, even though she has just arrived at work, wiping her palms on her thighs before following Imogen to the toilets. She holds the heavy door open for Y/N as they go inside and Y/N immediately stumbles, holding in a gasp as she sees Harry leaning against the counters with his arms folded across his chest.

“Are you feeling dizzy?” Imogen asks, gently placing a hand on her back for support. Y/N barely registers the question, eyes locked with Harry as he smirks at her, clearly enjoying the bewilderment and turmoil he’s putting her through.

“Uh, a little bit, I think I need to sit down,” Y/N breathes, eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and Imogen, checking that Imogen definitely couldn’t see him.

“Come on,” she leads her to a stall, pushing the door open and closing the toilet seat cover for Y/N to sit on.

“Thank you, Gen, I—I think I just need a minute and then I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure, babe, you look rough.” She touches her forehead, “You’re burning up, Y/N, will you be safe to drive home?”

Y/N is still staring at Harry, “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she hates that he will have to take her home but she doesn’t want to explain to Imogen where her car is, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll go and get you some nice, cold water,” she rubs Y/N’s knee comfortingly before leaving the bathroom. And Y/N is standing up instantly, albeit very wobbly.

“Harry!” She’s cross. “Why are you here?” He unfolds his arms and walks towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to sit back down. “Stop it! I didn’t even know demons existed twenty-four hours ago and now you’re fucking everywhere.”

“I know, Bambi. I’ll take you home,” he’s gentle, and it angers Y/N more but she’s exhausted—and when did she get so lightheaded? But she’s still aware enough to be agitated when she realises he called her Bambi despite Imogen saying her name in front of him.

“I don’t want you to,” she complains.

“I know.” He repeats.

Imogen comes back in suddenly and Y/N doesn’t think anything of it, assuming Harry is still invisible but she makes a confused noise, “Who are you?”

Harry only steps up to her and looks directly into her eyes, taking the bottle of water from her hand. “You don’t remember this. You escorted Y/N to her car because she wasn’t feeling well, and now you’re freshening up in the bathroom.”

And before Y/N can even try to shout at Harry for invading her friend’s head, he’s taking her wrist and they’re dissipating.

They reappear in her bedroom and Y/N stumbles her way into the bathroom, falling on her knees and resting her forehead on the toilet seat—she doesn’t think she’ll actually be sick but she needs to feel grounded. Trying to focus on her breathing and the cool feel of the plastic on her skin, Y/N closes her eyes and supposes she could fall asleep but then Harry (fucking Harry) steps around her and turns the shower on.

“Come on, Y/N, you’ll feel better,” he tries, his voice still disgustingly soft.

Y/N closes her eyes tighter, “I don’t need you here, Harry, go away.”

“Don’t be ungrateful,” he spits, immediately void of tenderness. “I didn’t have to bring you home, I could’ve left you stranded at work.”

“I’m only in this mess because of you! You’re the reason I didn’t have my car,” Y/N bites back.

Harry can’t be bothered to get into it now, “Get in the shower. I won’t tell you again.” He orders, before leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Y/N rolls her eyes but she stands up. Not because he told her to, but because she was going to shower anyway—she tells herself. There’s little energy left in her body and the thought of a bath is much nicer but she’d probably just fall asleep in it. So she takes off her nearly two-day-old clothing and lets out a little whine of relief before stepping under the hot stream and pulling across the shower curtain.

When she leaves the shower after fifteen—blissfully tranquil—minutes, she’s surprised to see one of her oversized sleep shirts and a towel on top of the toilet seat cover. Y/N grumbles under her breath at the nice gesture and scoffs at the lack of underwear he brought in with the shirt. “Pervert,” she mutters.

“I heard that,” Harry says from her bedroom, and she thinks she’d rather like to punch him. Quickly, she dries off and throws the shirt on before sitting on the toilet. It pools over her thighs. “You would’ve accused me of the same thing if I had gone through your drawers,” his voice is ice cold.

“I need underwear, I’m on my period, you dick,” Y/N says, patience worn thin. She hears him bang her drawers shut before the bathroom door is swung open and he throws the underwear in her general direction, eyes averted, “Oh please, I’m decent,” her voice is acidic and Harry’s anger is simmering as he looks at her, expression eerily unaffected.

“I preferred you when you were crying,” he hisses, before slamming the door closed.

Y/N is about ready to scream bloody murder and push Harry out of her window as she finishes up in the bathroom, grumbling away to herself. She’s grateful her tears have been replaced with rage, much less forlorn, she thinks. And she knows exactly what she’s going to say to him, and he’ll leave whether he likes it or not.

“Okay Harry, it’s been fun—” Y/N starts as she enters her bedroom, but she stops when she sees Harry lying on her bed, one arm behind his head with the other draped over his stomach. “Get up,” she grits, spotting the pillow Harry had first taken from her, lying by the door, before picking it up.

“What are you going to do with that?” He smirks, closing his eyes, looking ever so comfortable on her bed. Y/N climbs up next to him and brings the pillow down with as much force as she can muster. Harry barely releases a breath but his eyes shoot open. She hits him again, “Get out—” and again, “—of my—” and again, “—house! Get out!”

“You do that one more time…” Harry seethes, never moving a muscle. Y/N is rattled by just how rattled she feels by this man; sure that this anger is unmatched by anything she’s ever experienced, and her arms move before her brain does, whacking him again.

She barely sees him move but suddenly she’s on her back with her arms pinned above her head, nearly off the end of the bed. Harry is hovering over her, eyes pitch black, and Y/N’s own widen briefly in shock. She almost feels excitement bubble up in eliciting this reaction out of him, in winning their argument. Or so she thinks.

Y/N tries to kick at him, knee hitting his abdomen but he’s quick to sit on her thighs and she’s squirming desperately, an angry whine escaping her lips.

“Stop.” His voice is deep, authoritative. “Stop before I make you,” and Y/N’s breath catches as she stares, unblinking, up into his eyes. He leans down and grazes his lips over the shell of her ear. “This isn’t a game. Angering a demon on purpose is a very silly thing to do, Y/N.” She swallows, aware of the weight of his body on her legs and his mouth so close to her skin. “Assuming I won’t kill you just because I said I wouldn’t,” he whispers, the air hot against her neck. A noise gets caught in her throat.

She shakes her head, “Please don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm, I thought so. You g’na stop being so petulant?”

Y/N nods, “Yes,” she exhales.

“Good. You gonna promise me your soul?”

Her head is so fuzzy she nearly agrees again but then her eyes shoot open, “No!” And she’s shaking her head violently. But he’s quick to grab her jaw. He forces her head to stop moving and he’s glaring at her so intensely that she thinks he might set her on fire.

“Calm down,” he removes his weight from her legs and sits to the side of her, bringing her arms down to rest on either side of her head. “You know, you didn’t even thank me for helping you. S’not very nice. And if you won’t pledge your soul to me then I suppose I’ll just have to take the glamour away.”

“Harry, No!” She gasps, all the anger she’d had completely dissipating and she wants so badly to be furious, but she can only panic. “Please don’t do that.”

“You’ll have to promise me something then.” She nods, “Never antagonise a demon like that ever again.”

Y/N sighs, relieved, “Like I’ll run into another one any time soon. I had managed to avoid them for over two decades.”

“We’re around more than you realise. I’m serious, Y/N. Promise me, or I’ll make everyone remember. It really doesn’t affect me.”

“I promise,” she huffs.

He slowly releases his grip from her wrists, seemingly satisfied. “Come on—into bed,” Harry pries her sheets back.

“But it’s like two p.m.”

“Yeah, and you’ve had a tough few days believing in demons and whatnot, so it’s time for bed.”

She finds herself doing what he says, sitting up and climbing under her sheets, “I can’t believe I’m actually listening to you.”

“I can.” He watches to make sure she lies down properly before making his way towards the door. “I’ll know if you break your promise,” he says, pausing in the doorway, broad back facing her. He’s gone before Y/N can ask how, but a deep-rooted sense of dread settles in her stomach as if she has made a deal with the devil. And she supposes that she very well might have done.

Y/N’s refusal to pledge her soul really doesn't affect Harry in the slightest; demons could survive on whatever they chose to. Harry has always chosen to reap souls after their pledgers have passed away, usually from natural causes. Or he’ll take them from whichever prick he deems evil enough to snuff out of existence. But if he decides tomorrow that he wants to suck every last drop of blood from his victims to sustain himself instead, then his body would cope just fine. Not that Harry would ever enjoy that. He could choose not to eat or drink at all if he really wanted to, but he’d tried that once when he’d had to take care of his mother as a child, and it was the most miserable week ever. He’d been far too wired to think about stopping for himself, but once she started feeling better he realised how much he’d missed food. Harry found, after years of experimenting, that culling souls is the most effective way of squashing the demon guilt he unnaturally feels, whilst also maintaining his demonic capacity.

He decides to walk, needing the fresh air. He admittedly feels a little silly for his behaviour, pinning Y/N down like that and causing her heart to nearly beat out of her chest. He just wasn’t expecting an outburst like that from her; she’d been so distraught when they’d first met—a weepy thing. And the next thing he knows, she's whacking him about with a pillow—not menacing in the slightest but he’ll admit it did take him by surprise. But she needed to be scared of him, scared of his species; it's easy to trust them in their human vessels but they are in no way similar other than visually. That’s how he justifies behaving the way he did. And maybe that’s why he feels the need to get outside, to let the cold breeze shock him. To really register what the fuck is going on.

Harry hasn’t given himself the time to question how he was summoned by someone who doesn’t know how to do it, and he’s tried hard to believe that she was lying but how could she be? How could she be when he’d appeared in that chair and she was sobbing with her head in her hands; no candles, no books, no incantations, nothing? It feels like the start of something Harry has no interest in being involved with, which is why looking back, he’s very relieved that the reason for her crying was so ridiculously simple, despite his reaction suggesting otherwise. He had felt inconvenienced and undervalued when she’d told him her problem; another job he was extremely overqualified to deal with, but now he thinks maybe it's a blessing that it wasn’t something worse. If she’d wanted someone dead then he might’ve been more concerned about her inadvertent summoning, but perhaps this is a one-off and he’ll never hear from her again.

He really hopes that will be the case.

[1800titz]

Okay, I wanted to write a TEENY bit amidst my frantic workload. Here we have just a crumb of that incubusrry idea. What do we think?

She’d fallen asleep. When had she fallen asleep?

The man at the foot of her bed is a shadow — face veiled by the angle of the dusk. His stature, though — broad, visibly — is enhanced by the traces of the sunset that streak through the window he eclipses. It builds him and cascades over his shape, and her eyes bound and imbibe in slivers. His waistline, his parted thighs, the crest of his shoulders, his arms, ominously at his sides. His head, tilted just a tad. 

Mila should be scared. She should be so scared to see this foreboding shadow of a masculine figure at the foot of her bed. Chills should thrive down her arms under the circumstances, terror should curl over the skin of her bones and manifest in a blood-curdling scream, expelled by her lungs. Pumping, pumping, pumping blood, her heart should be racing — Mila should be petrified. 

She isn’t. Instead, she finds ease in his presence. There’s an oddly ironic comfort to his company — a soothing sentiment that muzzles her racing thoughts and stifles what would typically be a hammering behind her ribcage. And when he speaks, his voice is a velvety croon that envelops her like a weighted blanket. He says her name. Two syllables that roll off his tongue with songlike cadence holding no tune. And it’s pleasant — his voice. Deep in inflection, a sweet melody to her half-awake eardrums, dreamy like a lewd fantasy in her REM cycle. It’s familiar, it’s the same voice she’s heard grazing against her ear, in the middle of the night, when he’s on top, his weight warm over her, when his hips rock against her own, when he stretches her with his cock. Mila, Mila, Mila, you’re so wet for me. When he slips his forearm between her back and the mattress, winding it and flipping their position with what seems like preternatural strength; Mila, Mila, Mila, bounce on my cock for me, baby. Just like that. And so she does — she follows the guide of his voice like a lifeline, lured by his song, siren-like. Lured by his touch, when he cocks his head up at her and squeezes her jaw in his colossal palm, the pads of his digits pressing into her cheeks. His hands are always a relief — they always carry a bit of a chill, they always soothe the feverish burnish of her own flesh (that a rendezvous with the man always seems to incite). That same jaw unhinges, an aimless mewl escaping when he grinds up and hits something extraordinary within her at a ridge, and he ogles her newly parted, strawberry mouth with eyes glazed by lust. He uses the opportunity to slide his thumb across and brush it against her tongue. 

“I know, baby, I know,” is what he tells her, his tone gentle like the soft touch squeezing over her love handle — he uses that to maneuver her hips, just gliding back and forth over him. It hits all the right spots. He hits all the right spots. He’s a dream. Literally. 

She’s dreaming, the young woman convinces herself — she’s dreaming about dreaming of him. He looms over her in hues of darkness that paint his muscles, and those muscles flex when moves to disrobe. Yes. Yes. Yes. 

“Mila,” she hears him beckon again. This one is sing-song-y and tailed by the subsequent sound of a belt buckle clinking. Leather yanked through linen loops. Her chest rolls on her breath. Yes, yes—

This is a dream. This is a very lucid dream, Mila thinks, but it feels very real when his touch cradles her bare ankle —the blanket’s been kicked off from her feet at some point or another. His cool touch presses over the joint, and his thumb swipes over the bone before the foot of the bed dips. He’s pasted a knee onto it, and Mila watches his form in motion, bathed in shadow.

“Gonna be a good girl and let me make you feel good tonight?”  

[gurugirl]

Tales From the Modern Incubus | Part 18

Summary: Your thoughts start to spiral as you near the time for meeting with The Four but Harry has a plan that might just work to your favor.

A/n: Remember, this is demon/incubus!Harry so there may be some triggering topics. Please read all warnings in the TFMI Masterlist before continuing. 6k words

Warning: Some angst (pretty light), talk of religion and God and Satan, etc.

Character List

Part 17*

Part 18

If Harry had been honest with himself the moment he found out what you were, if he had even just once told you to slow down and think about what you’d been through maybe things would be different right now. But he’d been selfish. He had been a little worried about you and about how well you were taking everything. It seemed sudden, the way you adjusted and accepted your new life but he also liked the idea that you took to him so well and he didn’t want to disturb the progress you were making. Harry was clueless about this part. He knew a lot about many things but this was out of his wheelhouse. He was well read and understood humans very well. He’d roamed the earth for a long time. But you were new to him. A being like you. Sure, he’d met other hybrids but he’d never gotten emotionally close to them. Not like he was with you.

But Harry wanted you to be his and he loved that you were both bonded. But was the bond now only a burden to you? You couldn’t break it, you wouldn’t want to but it happened rather fast and Harry had guilt eating away at him when he could tell you were now beginning to doubt everything around you. He should have said something sooner, but perhaps if he’d done that, you’d have dropped him. You’d have realized how much more you could be without him.

He understood that the fear and uncertainty you felt were probably something you should have been trying to feel and confront earlier. And now it was catching up to you.

You were struggling to feel confident about the meeting with The Four. You had few resources and knew very little in comparison to the minds of those who you were about to meet with. Harry was able to fill in the gaps when you had questions and so you were coming to understand a lot and fast, but it didn’t give you the certainty you needed.

With so many things unanswered and knowing the thoughts in Harry’s head (he was not confident about the meeting either) you were inundated with real fear. Fear of the unknown yes, but you were mostly in fear of what was going to happen to Harry. It was an ominous feeling. The time for the meeting was approaching and you felt like you were going to have a breakdown. You’d always been quite carefree and easy going in your life before you understood what you were, but now, nothing was easy and nothing was carefree. You had a real problem on your hands and you had no clue how to stop it. Neither did Harry or Adam. This was uncharted territory.

And what made matters worse was that now your thoughts were laid out for the two men next to you like you’d plated and served them, laid them on the table bare. Nothing was a secret. You had nothing to yourself at all. You appreciated your bond to Harry but it meant that he always knew how you were feeling and what you were thinking and it was a bit overwhelming. It was suffocating and you needed air but you couldn’t get it because you needed to brainstorm about the upcoming meeting.

Harry was speaking but had paused when he realized you were not on the same page. Both men looked at you but they didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. It was all out in the open and you couldn’t handle the pressure of everything. Of all the moments in your life to have a breakdown, to completely lose your shit, now was not the time. But your mind and your emotions didn’t listen to your logical side. You vacillated between what you knew you should do and allowing your emotions to take over. You couldn’t control it. The sensitivity of the moment, the seriousness of the situation was more than you could comprehend. Even with how quickly you’d changed and adapted to who you were becoming, there was still a part of you that was just a college girl who loved life and her friends and didn’t know what she wanted to do when she graduated (much to Enzo and Gwen’s dismay). You felt like you were still sweet and innocent and prayed to God and got spooked by scary movies. And yet, you were now none of those things.

The total and complete overhaul of your understanding of literally everything had transformed you as a person, and perhaps it had happened too quickly. You wanted to pretend things were okay and that they would just work out because in your past life, that’s how it always went. When an issue would arise, no matter how daunting it seemed, you would always get through it just fine. Things always just worked out. But now? You had no fucking clue what you were doing. You had no idea if things would just work out anymore.

Suddenly Harry watched on as you walked out of the cheap model home and he followed you down the abandoned street. Your mind was taking off in different directions and you just needed air. You needed to be away from Harry and from Adam. You weren’t upset with them, not at all. But not having any privacy and not knowing what to do next was choking the air from your lungs. You couldn’t breathe.

You heard Harry behind you, the gravel being stepped over as he quickly neared you, “Hey… stop. I know. This feels like we’re walking into a trap and we,” you stopped your movement and turned to Harry with your palm up to have him stop speaking.

“No. I need to not have you listening to my thoughts right now. I need to feel like I’m in control of something and I’m not and I don’t know what to do but I need to breathe. Alone,” you kept your eyes on Harry’s as you spoke and realized you were crying when you felt the breeze on your wetted cheeks.

You shook your head at Harry. You couldn’t take on his guilt as well. Because he felt guilt about the way things happened between you and him. You couldn’t hash that out with him, though. Not in that moment. You turned and continued walking away from him so you could breathe. So you could think. You could feel the tumult in Harry’s emotions, but it was too much. You already had to deal with your own.

Harry watched you until you’d gotten past the bend and he could no longer see you. But he could still feel you. He could hear you and he hated the way you were feeling. And especially in that very moment when everything seemed like it was going to come crashing down. He felt responsible. He knew what he needed to do. Deep down he’d been aware of his duty. Of his responsibility.

In an act of desperation, because he was desperate, Harry closed his eyes and attempted to invoke Satan. Or at least to make contact, a plea of help. A message if you will. Sometimes Satan would listen. Many times he would not. Satan was easier to reach than Lucifer and The Almighty. The message was simple – he named Asmodeus and Lilith in his plea – citing their plan to overthrow the powers that be, and he also admitted to having failed his task as an incubus. He hoped that something would get Satan’s attention. That the message would somehow get through. Satan would already be aware that one of his incubi had not checked in to give a progress update. Even if Harry had to be detained or imprisoned for not completing his job, it might be worth it to have Satan in on the secret plan. It could also be the one thing that saved him. That saved you.

Harry stayed outside to be as near to you as possible. He couldn’t see you but he knew you just needed time to work through your emotions. To perhaps figure out what you were going to do. Because none of you really knew what to do. You’d meet The Four but then what? Demand that they just stop what they’re planning? Tell them no? It wasn’t like they could force you or Adam to do anything, could they?

There was an underlying current of doubt and anxiety. It was felt amongst Adam, Harry and you. Harry could feel your fear so deep he could almost taste it. Your heart was pounding and your mind was racing.

Harry sat at the front of the house and continued his invocation of Satan. His eyes were closed and he was using his abilities the best he could. Then something shifted. It was like a key had been slotted into a lock in his mind. He opened his eyes and didn’t see you still but this was different. This wasn’t from you. He wasn’t sure what it was. But something just adjusted and felt loosened suddenly. Like a door had been cracked open to let a breeze snake into a stale room.

He got up to find you. Harry didn’t want to wait any longer. You’d been gone for nearly a half hour and even though he could feel you and knew you were fine, he was beginning to feel himself get antsy and his intuition told him to get you and bring you back.

You were at the edge of the development near an open lot sitting in some overgrown grass when he saw you. You had your head in your hands and your anxiety was contained but still simmering just below the surface.

“Hey, my little lemon love,” Harry sat down next to you and put his arm around your back, “want to talk?” You smiled at the name, the ridiculous name. He knew it would make you smile, though, which is why he said it.

Harry didn’t want to push you to make a move. If you three had to miss the “meetup” then so be it. Harry would do anything you wanted even if that meant pissing The Four off even more.

“Sorry. I was overwhelmed. I still am. I don’t know what I’m doing Harry and I feel like everything that’s about to happen is going to be on my shoulders,” you looked to the demon with a frown.

Harry shushed you and kissed your forehead, “Nonsense. We’ll all be there to help. It’s not all on you. I’m here. Adam is powerful too and he can be of use,” he wiped his thumb over your cheekbone and smiled down at you.

You weren’t sure what any of it meant. You had Harry and Adam and your powers but what would you really do? You were lost.

“Did you call on Satan?” You smirked at Harry. You didn’t think that would work. Harry didn’t either, you could tell. Harry smiled at you and nodded.

“Yes. Just as a last-ditch effort. Probably will amount to nothing,” though Harry had felt something happen, something click into place and open up. He wasn’t sure if that was anything to be worried about or something to look forward to. Probably neither.

“Let’s get back, love. We have a little bit of work left to do before we go and face your parent’s and Adam’s.”

When you arrived at the meeting spot Harry noted that there were very few people walking the grounds at Holy Falls. You were deep enough into the woods that you should be safe from intruding humans.

Harry was instructed to stay in the middle of you and Adam. You would do anything to protect him. It was risky bringing him with you but letting him out of your sight could be worse.

You weren’t exactly feeling certain about what was going to happen but you needed to end this debacle if possible. Continually running away wasn’t sustainable. All you wanted was to be left alone but from the moment you learned about the truth you’d been on the run. And Harry was in agreement with you. Obviously. He had never wanted to be put in the middle of anything that would anger those who had power and influence over the realms. Everything that had led up to this moment had all been an accident. A fluke. Even when he found you that first night in your bedroom. It had all been a complete coincidence.

The first person you encountered was a watcher. Well, encountered isn’t the right word. You sensed them before you saw them and they were gone just as quickly. It seemed that the three of you had arrived before the others, but of course they had a watcher scouting the area first. Probably to report back. You didn’t know what was up their sleeve but you felt that whatever they had gave them the upper hand.

Harry kept your hand in his, your fingers intertwined. He didn’t want to let go. You wouldn’t let that happen. Adam was also caught up on what was happening so he was watchful as well but kind of clueless in general.

You could hear commotion in the distance but you knew it was just people heading back to their cabins. It felt like such a long time ago since you’d been here, but the reality was it had only been just over a week. You used to love coming to Holy Falls with your friends and sneaking out after dark to go swimming. You felt a tiny tinge of sadness when you realized you’d never do anything like that again.

“Do you feel that?” Harry whispered and Adam turned his head in your direction. You did feel it. Something vibrating, like the tremor of earth’s plates moving below you. Your blood tingled, and the hair on your arms stood up.

You squeezed Harry’s hand tighter, “Adam, please hold Harry’s hand,” you spoke as you looked all around in the darkness, trying to see or sense anything. You could only sense something, but you couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Your assumption told you that it was The Four finally arriving.

Harry, however, thought differently. It could have been The Four making their presence known but it was a bit more familiar to him, a feeling that made his blood go cold. He couldn’t be sure yet, but he wondered if his invocation had worked after all.

But suddenly when Hannah appeared with the others behind her, for a brief moment Harry figured he’d been wrong about what he assumed it was. He tried to shake the feeling, the buzz that went throughout his body, the way his skin pricked and his feet felt unsteady, but even as Hannah began to speak and the others stood next to her before you, Harry was still very aware of the sense he was picking up on. There was someone else here. This was someone he knew.

“To say we’re disappointed is putting it lightly. You two are making a big mistake in defying us,” Hannah finished as she looked between you and Adam.

The woman, who you assumed was Lilith was clearly distracted by something like Harry was. She was looking around and into the trees from where she stood, her eyes searching all over and you noticed how odd it seemed. The expression she wore was that of confusion, of being caught off guard. Worry.

“Wait!” She spoke loudly and moved away from the man who stood next to her. Lilith walked to the edge of the tree line and moved the brush away with her hands and began slowly sweeping her eyes across the darkness.

You looked up at Harry and he was calm. Still. He knew something. He knew what she was looking for. There was another presence.

Before anyone could blink an eye or speak another word the small tremor that you felt underfoot began to create such shockwaves that it became hard to steady yourself.

A sharp, blinding light filtered through the trees, making it appear as daylight and the ground between you and Hannah split and cracked. You suddenly realized that the light was coming from the crack in the ground and everyone had to turn away to save their eyes.

You backed away from where the ground had split open and then it was silent and the light was gone, the earth still. Everyone turned back toward where the ground had been disturbed and there stood a tall man. Harry pushed you behind himself and stood to cover your frame. You didn’t know what was going on or who the man was.

“Samael,” Lilith spoke to the man. Everyone stood in their respective spots in silence and watched the tall man.

“Samael…” the man repeated the name and laughed unamused as he casually walked toward The Four, “that’s my Christian name, but we both know I’m not a Christian anymore. Don’t we, Eve?” He suddenly turned and looked at you and then at Harry and to Adam. He began to move across the divide in the ground toward where you stood.

“Greetings. I’m Satan. Or you can call me the Serpent, the Devil, Prince of Darkness, Leviathan, the Evil One… fuck the list of titles humans have given me over the ages goes on and on really.” He narrowed his eyes at Harry and stood a few feet away before he continued, “But today you can call me the Prosecutor. I’ve been summoned for a very specific crime, two to be exact. One of them seems to be a bit more pressing than the other, though. Isn’t it Harry?”

You tried to see the face of the man but you were unable to make out any discernable features. It was as if he had a dark shadow or veil over his face, but you did see the that he had horns the closer he drew to you. The air around him smelled of ash and burning wood, a hint of sulfur. The temperature rose dramatically in the forest and you began to feel sweat dripping down your back.

“Yes, Dark Lord. I called on you because of them,” Harry pointed toward The Four and looked down in reverence. So you and Adam followed suit, looking down away from Satan’s face.

The dark man turned away from Harry and a sound like a deep snarl from a large animal came from him in low guttural waves as he sauntered around the edge of the wood and then behind The Four. No one spoke. You didn’t dare look back up at the man when you realized the levity of the situation. Your original attempt to get a look at his face was your ignorance. Satan gave you a pass for it. But you followed Harry’s lead here. You were not to look upon his face.

You could hear him breathing heavy, the quiet waves of his growl slowed down and then he stopped.

“Haniel, St. Michael, you two will be answering to The Almighty. Sit!” He spoke the words sit in such loud growl that everyone was startled, and you saw Hannah and Michael fall to the ground with their heads down.

“Asmodeus, my partner. My old friend. You are my betrayer,” Satan stood before the man he called Asmodeus. The man you had not yet been introduced to but you now knew as your real father.

His low growl sounded like the engine of a choking sea vessel slowly revving when he stood before Lilith, “And you. The worst yet. We’ve known one another since you deceived your human counterpart in the Garden of Eden when I showed you the eternal truth. I allowed you to descend beyond the human world. I made you what you are today and this is how you repay me? And just imagine how hurt Lucifer is going to be. You two were as thick as thieves. In fact, he’s quite fond of you. He won’t be after he finds out about this.”

No one spoke their responses. They didn’t need to. Satan could hear you all. He knew every thought and every heartbeat of those who stood near him.

“I do so love chit chatting with you all, but I have a lot of work ahead of me it seems so I need to move this little show along,” Satan paced slowly around Lilith and Asmodeus.

“First, you two…” he tsk’d at them and stopped when he stood before them again, “your crime is rather severe. An attempt at an overthrow? An attempt to overthrow me? Your friend? And Morning Star, well, he’ll be furious when he learns of your intentions too. This isn’t going to end well for you. You will be given a trial because I’m nothing if not fair, but I’m sure you realize that your fate will not be a particularly kind one.”

Satan turned and strode to stand over Hannah and Michael, “You’ll come with me and I’ll hold you prisoner until I can reach your maker so he can decide how you two will be dealt with. But as you know, The Almighty is very hard to reach and he told me to make an appointment with him when I tried to get his attention about this. So, you might be locked away for a very long time until then.”

You felt Harry’s hand clasping desperately to yours as Satan closed in on the three of you.

“Harry, you’ve never given me trouble. In all your time roaming the earth, but you have not completed your task and despite what you might think of as a more pressing issue, you know the rules. We need balance amongst the realms. You’ll come with me so we can sort out the issue.”

You could feel Harry’s heart pounding as he kept his head down. You turned to see Harry’s side profile. He was in fear.

“You, young lady. Y/n,” he spoke your name and you kept your head down, “you are still a baby. Learning about everything you are. You’ve done nothing wrong so there’s no reason to fear me. Your original purpose is no longer binding. You will need to seek a new role for yourself, though. Your powers will be very useful.”

The heavy footsteps of Satan could be felt on the ground as he stepped in front of Adam, “You too, Adam. I can sense great power within you. Find your role in this life. You can do anything you would like. But I would ask to have you both checking in with me from time to time so I know you’re on track.”

The silence and darkness of the forest became loud, intense. Satan still stood before you but he now appeared to have his head tilted back as he looked upward to the sky.

You kept your fingers intertwined with Harry’s when he shifted on his feet and a noise from behind you made you turn.

There was Aim with a smug look on his face. He looked past you toward Asmodeus and Lilith as he circled to the front and near where Satan stood.

Satan put a clawed hand on Aim’s shoulder, “Aim is part of the reason I took heed of your summons, Harry. He came to me even though he knew I’d be furious about the information he withheld. And I was. But then you called on me and I realized we needed to take action. Put aside our differences and work together. And I’m glad he came to me now. You’re lucky I found you when I did. Or you’d very well be among the dead spirits.”

Satan’s presence was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It was portentous, powerful, heavy. You felt scared even though he told you not to be.

Aim stood next to you as Satan moved back to Asmodeus and Lilith. The ground began to shake and the trees waved, branches swaying violently as if a storm had suddenly come in. The light from the ground rose upward again and Asmodeus and Hannah were gone in a flash.

He raised an arm and you saw the long nails on his hand as he spoke over Michael and Hannah and they were yanked up by an invisible force. You saw what looked like glowing red handcuffs linking them together at the wrists, a chain connected to Satan’s robes. He slowly turned and raised his arm again as he faced you.

“Wait!” You cried out. You knew he was about to gather Harry to bring him with him to Hell. But Harry was yours and you wanted to know what was going on. You kept your head down and Harry was nearly crushing your hand.

“What is it, Y/n?” Satan paused his motions.

“Harry and I are bonded. Please bring me with him. I can help perhaps,” you felt your knees go weak and you head pounded. An ache unlike anything you’d felt before had you falling to the ground, you palms landing flat on the leaves and dirt below.

Harry knelt next to you in worry. You felt his hands on your back and his voice was low and soothing but you couldn’t make out his words.

“I see that now. Sorry about your headache, dear. It was necessary. I needed to gather your thoughts up so I could see what it is you think you can help with. What you’re capable of. You can come with us. You are, after all, Asmodeus child so you’re welcome to Pandemonium any time you like. Your intentions are pure, I see, but I don’t know that you’ll like what Harry is going to need to do in order to set things right. Especially if you’re bonded.”

You sat back onto your calves and looked at Harry. He had a look of apology on his face as he shook his head at you. You had a difficult time reading his thoughts in that moment as your head was still reeling after whatever Satan had done. You felt like your brain was swelling and throbbing in your skull.

With your eyes steady on Harry’s and your head pounding you nodded, “Okay. I’ll go with you. I need to be with Harry.”

Aim spoke something to Adam and then there was another sudden blinding light and tremble of the earth before you were suspended in space, unseeing, unhearing, but only feeling a warm breeze over your skin where you smelled ash and sulfur but you could not speak.

Everything was still around you and your head no longer ached. You opened your eyes to see a space around you, that of a large room with dark walls and large fireplace framed in a stormy-grey marble, red velvet drapes and ornate chairs with soft cushions in dark patterns. Gold and onyx details covered the room with black marble floors, gold veins running throughout. A long dark wooden table with candelabra in the center and a blood red rug with fringe at the ends at the very center of the room. No window in sight.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room but you were feeling a bit strange and off-kilter. Your head didn’t ache like it had moments earlier but you were fuzzy and confused.

You pushed yourself to stand up and walked toward the red velvet curtain that hung from the ceiling to the floor. The ceilings were high and the curtain had gold trim on the edges. Before you could open the curtain you heard Harry’s voice and then you heard the voice of the one you’d just met. They were speaking quietly and you still had a difficult time accessing the thoughts of others. You couldn’t hear Harry’s thoughts.

You listened briefly and when you still had a difficult time hearing what they were speaking you slowly moved the heavy curtain to the side and looked into the other part of the room that had been hidden by the thick red fabric.

There was Harry and Satan together. They both turned to look at you and Harry’s face immediately softened while Satan’s face and expression were still a mystery.

“There she is. Arisen from the dead,” Satan spoke in his gravelly voice.

“What’s going on?” You entered the space and walked toward Harry. Wanting to be closer to him, to touch him.

“We’re discussing how Harry is going to keep up his end of the bargain. You realize what must be done, I’m sure,” Satan continued, “Here, have a seat. You might be feeling dizzy.”

The chair was comfortable. Harry’s concern for you was visible but he didn’t speak just yet. You wondered what they had been saying and you tried to shake yourself out of the strange dream-like fog you were in but found it hard to snap out of it.

Harry grabbed your hand and put his thick fingers in between yours when you were settled in your chair next to him. You could feel his rings digging into your fingers, the metal warmed from his skin.

“I have a human ready for impregnation. She’s an easy one. She’s healthy and fertile and she wants to carry the child of an incubus. You can see her as soon as you’re ready. But I’m guessing you and the girl should talk first.”

You shook your head and looked at Harry in confusion. His eyes were closed as he looked down at his lap. Staring at his profile you realized this was serious. Satan was going to have him go through with getting a human pregnant. To have sex with someone else. This was, of course, his work. Every 100 years he was called to this task and his time had come. You knew that this was why he found you in the first place, hoping you’d be the one, but when you turned out to be celestial… you hadn’t really thought much about it since everything started to happen. Everything else had overshadowed Harry’s reality. Your reality.

When Harry didn’t respond Satan stood and walked toward the curtain, “I’ll be back soon. You are well advised to take my advice and not let this get to you, Y/n. It’s not a personal matter. It’s a way to keep balance and it’s necessary. I’m sure you’ll soon understand this.”

When the curtain closed behind the shadowed man you turned back to Harry, his fingers still slot in between yours.

“Harry. Talk to me,” you watched as he slowly blinked his eyes open and turned his head to look at you.

“I love you. I don’t want to do this but I don’t have a choice. I don’t know that there is any other alternative,” he spoke. His eyes were so light and clear you could see right into his soul it seemed.

You put your other hand over his lap and pulled his free hand into yours, “What about me? Could I carry your child?”

Harry looked confused as he pinched his brows together, “You’d want that? I mean, I don’t even know if that’s allowed. I’m just an incubus, low ranking. You’re a high being, Y/n. You shouldn’t even be with me.”

“Harry, we’re bonded. Are we not?” You felt far more confused than Harry looked. Why wouldn’t his first thought have been to do this with you?

Harry laughed and shook his head, “Yes. We are. But it’s very unorthodox. It shouldn’t have happened. Incubus don’t typically bond. And you are so powerful. It just shouldn’t have happened. But it did. So that makes this more complicated.”

You felt frustrated. Harry was suddenly regretting being bonded with you and you couldn’t understand it.

“No. I don’t regret bonding with you, Y/n,” Harry lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed the top as he spoke, “I’m obsessed with you. But the reality is that you and I are very different. I don’t want to do this with anyone but you but there are rules that must be followed.”

“Then we’ll just ask. Let’s ask and then find out a way to make it work. I’ll carry your heir,” you put your hand into Harry’s hair and pushed your fingers through it. Your heart was pounding. You weren’t sure you were ready to be a mother but you certainly were less ready to have Harry be with anyone else.

Harry leaned into your touch. You sighed, “Why can’t I read your thoughts? You can read mine I’m assuming.”

Harry lifted his head as you removed your fingers from his hair, and he placed his hand at your cheek with a smile, “Because you’ve never been in this realm before, Hell. You’re used to accessing your gifts and senses on earth. You’ll get used to it eventually. It takes some time to adjust. It would be the same in heaven for you. Your abilities are all still there, they just need to catch up.

You nodded as you took the information in. But now you were nervous. Harry’s words to you about your bond being unorthodox, and how he didn’t know if you were allowed to carry his child… what if it wasn’t permitted? You’d still love Harry and you’d move on from this but the idea made you feel ill.

Satan was in the room suddenly, stood behind your chair and you felt his hands at your shoulders and it heated your body. His hands were hot like that of an engine that had just overworked itself. You were sure if he touched your skin it would melt.

“It’s an interesting proposition to have you bear the child of an incubus,” he spoke as he lifted his palms from your shoulders. You relaxed in relief when his hot hands were off you.

You turned to look toward Satan, still unsure of his face, “Why?”

“It changes the balance a bit is all. The child would not just be an incubus anymore. But it would be quite powerful. Your abilities combined with Harry’s, not quite the mix Lilith had hoped for between you and Adam,” he laughed mockingly, “but still more powerful than is required for a sex-demon.”

“So, it would be something you could consider? That would be acceptable?” Harry spoke as he sat up straight, not quite expecting this turn of events.

Satan walked to his throne sat down. He cracked his knuckles and twisted his neck slightly and you heard the pop of his joints, as if he were human.

“Hmm… we’d need to work out a deal, though. It would be up to you, Y/n. I would think very carefully about this, though. It’s my advice to you to find an equal or more powerful being to procreate with. With Harry, it’s an unequal power exchange that will result in a less powerful heir than you. Harry can still be your bond-mate even if he impregnates a human. He’s not going to leave you for the human, he’s not interested in anyone but you. It’ll be far easier for you to allow him to do as he’s done all these long years.

You look to Harry and then back to Satan, “I don’t care about how powerful the child would be. I would just prefer that he does this with me and no one else.”

The dark being nodded slowly, “That’s your human upbringing making you feel insecure about this when you really shouldn’t. But if you’re set on this then I think we can come to an agreement. I will need both of your full cooperation, however.”

Part 19*

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[missmielyhoran]

Demon!Harry

You bought an old mansion thinking you could renovate and sell it only to get bounded to a demon who won't leave you alone...

(Demon!Harry × reader)

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Oneshots- [tba]

Blurbs-

[purplekiwis]

I Did Something Bad

Hey! I was bored, so I decided to write a short, completely random halloween blurb about a a newly born demon who lacks control over his killer instincts.

warnings: do NOT read this if you're skirmish about death stuff!!!! mentions of blood, demons, dead bodies, literal murder and creatures feeding off creatures. ⚠️⚠️

words: 1.2k

“Harry!!” You screamed as soon as you laid eyes on the reason why you had been asked to descend to the earth's surface that night. You'd come down to fix what your apprentice had described as a small screwup, only to discover it was actually a monumental fuck up. “That’s Lucifer’s son-” Your voice was laced with sheer panic. “You killed Lucifer’s son! You- you butchered him!!”

Harry stood next to the deceased, his head bowed and his arms dangling behind him like the ones of a child who realizes they've done something bad. “‘M sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I just… was really hungry and...” Your enraged gaze lifted to him. He wasn't supposed to be hungry this late at night - he'd been sent down to feed himself. “I know I was supposed to be hunting humans, but they’ve all been so nice to me, and blood is so yucky. I'm not interested in eating them.”

You glared at him. “So you chose to eat one of our own instead?”

“No, of course not. I had no intention of eating him.” He denied right away, offended by the suggestion. “Why can’t I eat non- bloody food like humans do? Did you know they have a building called Wendy's where you can get a Frosty? Those are my favorite food. I wish I could eat them every day.”

“A Frosty,” You snorted derisively. “Your demon hunger will never be satisfied by human food. It's not nutritious, and it’ll give you fang decay if you have it too often.”

“Well then I'd rather not eat- which is precisely why I was hiding out here in the woods, where people don't come at night. But then he showed up out of blue and… I think I bit him. I don't remember it very well.” He looked down at the lifeless body for a moment, then back at you. “Have you ever bitten someone you weren't supposed to?”

“You didn't bite him Harry; you ripped half of his neck off.” You stated matter-of-factly. Thankfully, demons did not bleed as heavily as humans did, but it still didn’t look pretty. Harry's face, hands and shirt were covered in blood, but the head dangling off his victim by a sliver of tissue was undeniably the worst. “We’ll have to be careful while we move him. The last thing we need is for his head to fall unnoticed somewhere. I don't think your darling humans would like that very much.”

“You’re being really mean right now.” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms in a furious manner. “You were supposed to be helping me feel better, but all you've said so far has made me feel worse.”

You let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please tell me, what should I say to cheer you up, exactly?”

“Anything that relieves my guilt.” He huffed.

“Okay, then.” Crossing your arms as well, you sighed. "Taking everything into account, at least you got rid of the stupid offspring rather than the valuable one. Killing his sister—who has always been daddy's favorite—and getting away with it would have been much more troublesome. Oh, and I've always thought that he lacked survival skills. Does that improve your mood?”

Harry appeared surprised, as if he had not expected this outcome. “A little bit, actually.” He noted, inhaling deeply before turning his attention to the matter at hand. “Okay um… now what?”

“Grab his arms, I’ll take the legs.” You decided quickly, putting yourself into position. “We have to drag him deeper into the woods. The wolves will take care of the rest.”

Harry positioned himself on the opposite side of you and gave a single nod. Together, you attempted to lift the body. “Bloody hell!” He groaned, as you both shifted from side to side in an attempt to balance out the added weight. “Why are bodies so much heavier when they’re dead?”

“Good thing we won’t have this problem once Lucifer finds out what you did. He’s going to chop you into pieces. You’ll be much easier to carry that way.” You chuckled but soon realized Harry wasn't on the same page as you. His face was pale and solemn. “Hey, I was just kidding. No one’s going to find out, okay? We'll make sure of it.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded but didn't seem entirely convinced. “Let’s just go.”

The entire forest was shrouded in fog. The more you looked up at the evergreens, the more they blended together like a dry pastel painting in deep blues.

The ambient noises created by nature at night were spine-chilling, but they were drowned out by your heaves, grumbles, and the thunderous sound of your feet as you moved through the isolated forest lands.

“Okay. Here is good, I think.” You took a deep breath as you carelessly placed the body on the ground. You'd spent thirty minutes walking deep into the woods. There were no running trails that led this far, and the area wasn’t regularly patrolled by rangers either.

As far as you knew, the only creatures that walked through these dense, hazy grounds so late at night had fur, sharp teeth, and a fondness for biting. You hoped they were feeling ravenous...

“Now we wait.” You murmured as you sat on a fallen tree stem a few meters away. “It shouldn't take long. They've been watching us for a while. I could feel them moving alongside us as we walked.”

“Okay um… big question; won't they try to kill us if we stay here, like, right next to the fucking food source?”

“No.” You replied flatly. What a ridiculous question. “They're scared of us, but don’t worry… they’ll come. The free food is too tempting for them to refuse.”

Just like you had predicted, it didn't take long for a wolf pack to start crawling from behind the foliage. They prowled the area like scavengers, until they finally approached their easy meal.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Harry's murmur drawed your attention away from the wolves and toward him. He appeared even paler than before - he was practically yellow.

“Don’t you dare.” You warned him, angry eyes flashing directly at his. “You are not going to puke twenty feet away from where we dumped the body. Hold it.”

He swallowed heavily, leaning against a tree to try to keep his composure. You had been in his shoes before, so you knew what it felt like. “How do you do it? Why are you staring at it? It's revolting!”

“Because I’m evil, Harry.” Your lips smirked slightly. You had been expecting for him to go into shock eventually, and it was likely that was what was happening. “And so are you... you're just not ready to accept it yet. One day you will though. One day you’ll realize how pointless it is to try to run from who you are - from who we are.” You held out your hand and grabbed his red-tainted one. “You have a monster's heart....  and what you did tonight only goes to prove it.”

He shook his head as his eyes began to well with tears. “No. Tonight was an accident. I wasn't trying to kill anyone.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, almost amazed by his conviction. “Good people don't experience accidents like these, I'm afraid.” You squeezed his hand and cracked another smile. “Come on, let's get out of here. As soon as the sun rises and Halloween is over, walking around with all that blood on you will start to look suspicious.”

[overallrry]

harry styles “demon” fics

✩ all credit to the authors ✩

series

tales of the modern incubus (gurugirl)

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Harry is almost as old as time and he's got a lot to say. But right now he's hunting for the perfect female to carry his heir (as he must do every century). When Harry meets you, a pastor's daughter, he finds himself strangely obsessed with you in every way but you’re a good girl and Harry is definitely not your usual type. Will the handsome demon corrupt sweet (y/n)?

vanilla lime (cherryjuiceblues)

series masterlist

In which harry and y/n become the only two people who understand each other... but they're not so easily accepting of the fact.

choke me (harryforvouge)

1 2

one shots

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy

demon!harry one shot masterlist

jawllines

harry is a demon and y/n is cute

chericlo

such a pretty face on a pretty neck

harryforvouge

the abyss

demon!harry x angel!y/n

sunflowervolvimp3

king of hell!harry blurb masterlist

harryhoney-bee

demon harry takes care of angel y/n

tinydestinybear

sweet nothings

[not-fitzwilliam-darcy]

Honey, I rose up from the dead (I do it all the time)

It became a thing.

His fate was already written. Louis William Tomlinson was dead—or, rather, supposed to be dead.

And yet.

***

Where Louis doesn't want to die and a hundred years later, Harry is still trying to kill him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47043715

[retiredpeach]

Hogwarts!AU wangxian

Imagine wwx dragging every weird creature he can find for lwj to see

[jarofstyles]

JAROFSTYLES FICTOBER DAY 8- Scream

FICTOBER Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

Warnings- angelsxdemon, mention of god, blasphemy tbh, smut

-----------------------

“That isn’t the type of scream I’m used to…” The dark eyed demon smirked down at the angel, sweat spattering her littering skin. Her chest heaved as she looked up at the dark eyed creature with a glare, but it was hard to focus on the comment. 

It was hard to focus on anything when she had the best cock inside of her, hitting every spot that she didn’t know needed to be hit.

She would be exiled, if they knew. Her wings would be taken, and she would be stuck at heaven’s gate doing intake, but somehow her feud with a demon who also frequented her area of earth had blown into a full blown sexual affair. 

“B-Be quiet and keep doing that.” She huffed, her light voice falling into a mewl as he did just that. 

No sex had ever been such a temptation. She understood now, why people sometimes lusted after these creatures. Her complete opposite, dark minded and murky to her light and airy, and yet she found herself in this position. They quite literally fed off of sin, and the clouds knew that this was one of the most sinful activities she had even partaken in. It was another question she had for the big man up in the sky. 

If it was so bad, forbidden to the highest degree, then why did it feel so good?

Her toes curled as the strokes of his thick cock sent zaps of pleasure into her belly and her heels dragged down the backs of his thighs, trying to tug him deeper as she felt his sweat dripping onto her chest. Deep pink, wet lips had sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, making her whimpering continue as he hit into her with precision. Like it was a prearranged strategy to know her body’s most sensitive places, a roadmap to making her cum. 

His length filled her perfectly. The sounds of it slipping in and out of her sopping hole was audible in her room, sure she was making a mess of her bed. It would be a humiliating reminder when he inevitably left her and she woke the next morning to find evidence of their salacious activities, but one that would most definitely leave her cunt aching for more. 

“Who said you can give demands, little Angel?” The demon cooed. “Who says… I want to hear anything but my name and you begging for my cum leaving that holy little mouth?” Sharp teeth brushed her jaw, a deepy chuckle leaving his lips as he nipped the skin and slid a hand around her throat, pinning her down on the bed. His hips continued their thorough thrusts, the evil smirk on her face making her squeal. 

“No, no. That’s what I want to hear. God’s little servant, such a shame. A pussy like this should be working for my side.” He crooned, the filth and blasphemy leaving his tongue like a silk ribbon tied package.  She should pull away, leave, report her sins, but she didn’t want to fight the inevitable pleasure. His words were offensive and dirty and she couldn’t stop herself from clenching around him.  “Yeah…” He moaned, looking down at her cunt being spread by him. It was soaked, a ring of cream settling on the base of his cock before sliding down to his overly full balls. “It would be put to such good use in hell. Y’could come party with me… Play my funny little tricks… Let me fuck you where everyone could hear. I think you’d like that.” 

Y/N didn’t know why it sounded appealing when it was absolutely not something she had even allowed herself to think of, but she knew. She knew it was something that was  going to stay with her and haunt her. The feel of his cock filling her like it was perfectly curved to cater to her, the sound of his taunts, his nails digging into her thighs. It would be a recurring nightmare that would make her reach between her thighs when she woke up in a sweat. 

“N-No..” Her eyes closed and her mouth opened in pleasure as he began to move a bit harder inside of her, well aware her words were lies but having to try one last time to save herself. Why did they forbid sex when it felt like euphoria? Why was this going to be a punishment if anyone found out? How could they blame her for indulging in someone who knew what she needed and to find a release she didn’t know was full? 

“Yes.” He replied, squeezing slightly over her throat. “No angel should have such a tight, weepy little cunt. Dripping all over my fat cock, making a mess of my balls. Think you’ll clean them up for me after I empty them into this perfect little angel cunt.” Pursing his lips, he spit down on where they connected and made her squeak in disgust- but he could feel what it did to her. “It’s too late to pretend. I’ve corrupted your soul, sweet Angel. You’re so gone for it.. Gonna lick yourself off of me and get me hard again so I can take all of my one promised night….” He thumbed over her clit with his other hand, watching her back arch off the bed. “Mhm… I’m going to haunt you, darling.” His eyes were completely black, brows furrowed as his face controrted with rapture. He’d never find another pussy quite like this, and he wanted to be the only one to own it. Perhaps it would take time, but he as going to be the one who kept her. “ But I’ll be here to quell that ache that I’ll leave behind. All you’ve got to do is beg.”

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝟐

➯ Y/N DOESN’T FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS AND HARRY IS WORRIED ABOUT THEIR CONNECTION. ✰ demon!harry no warnings. 𝑤𝑐 8.6k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Y/N spends the weekend suppressing her urge to search for information on demons. Not only because it will further confirm that they exist (and/or that her mental health is rapidly declining) but also because she can’t get Harry’s parting words out of her head:

I’ll know if you break your promise.

Y/N still doesn't know how and is unsure if finding out will make things better or worse. But if he really does possess some sort of omniscience then what was to say he wouldn’t know of her anxious probing? It was safer not to test that theory, she thinks. So why were her fingers itching so severely?

From the moment she wakes up, ridiculously early thanks to Harry’s two p.m. bedtime, there is nothing else she can think about. At first, she carries on as normal, finding out once again that she is still out of her favourite cereal and immediately shoving her shoes on angrily; making the trip to her local shop just to buy a box of Frosted Wheats. Although she doesn’t spend longer than fifteen minutes outside her house, it is the most paranoid journey of her life. Every corner seems darker, and every person feels suspicious. Ever since finding out demons are roaming around, previous day-to-day activities feel somewhat feeble to Y/N, like life itself is even more insignificant than she already thinks it is. She knows dwelling on that for too long is never a grand idea, but it is difficult not to when she feels so exposed and defenceless. Because who ever prepares to deal with demons? There’s no crash course on what to do if you run into one, and she already has! Not to mention, she’s sure her experience was an abnormal one and she should probably be sending a thankful prayer to someone.

So Y/N makes her way home in a far from relaxed manner, trying to avoid suspicion and breathes a sigh of relief through her nose once she has her first mouthful of cereal. She continues to plod along mindlessly following her routine of breakfast, showering, and cleaning; finding solace in the music she puts on to drown out her thoughts. Though they soon catch up with her whilst she is making her bed; laptop glaring at her from across the room, taunting her to open it.

So she does. She stomps over to it and wastes no time in turning it on and typing demons into the search bar. There, she thinks, not such a big deal anymore, is it? The results load instantaneously and are just as disappointing as she knew they would be. Music videos and definitions clog up her screen, and Y/N nearly closes the tab immediately, feeling silly at the sliver of hope she’d had—but a picture catches her off guard. Without overthinking it, she clicks on the image results and feels an intense, internal discomfort at the sight of the different depictions, all haunted and pained. They’re blurry around the edges, painted with murky colours—creatures with morphing faces and sharp teeth looming over helpless figures, feeding off of their discontent, draining their life force, ending their existence. Y/N attempts to picture Harry as one of these beasts and falls short. He’d looked so human. Acted so human—despite the obvious sorcery he possessed. She glances at her ankle, the bruise and the swelling still ever present but the pain nonexistent. He couldn’t be whatever those photos try to depict. He took her pain away; he didn’t desire it. But why is she trying so hard to make him innocent? He told her he was a killer, and that he could kill her if he wanted to. That was far from the definition of innocence. 

Y/N groans and wipes her hands down her face, “What the fuck are you doing?” She mutters to herself, slamming the laptop shut and pulling her phone from her back pocket, opening her messages to type one to her friend Sarah.

are you free for drinks later?

She sincerely hopes she is.

Harry has never had a problem that he couldn’t fix. Ever since he could remember, things just seemed to go his way. As a child, he reaped the benefits of being the younger sibling, his parents wrapping him up in the softest of proverbial cotton wool which is something his sister, Gemma, never fails to hold against him. She’s constantly going on about how Mum and Dad handed everything to you on a plate. Personally, Harry doesn’t think that is his fault, but he understands her frustrations—he never needed to worry about a single thing.

That was until he hit puberty—an intense transition for the best of people but something catastrophically awful for a demon—and experienced every emotion tenfold. He started acting out, unnecessarily picking on Gemma, verbally hitting where it hurt and talking to his parents with an acidic tone. He was angry all the time, for no apparent reason, which made him even angrier until he’d built up a reputation for it. Despite popular belief, not all demons are the very definition of evil itself and where Harry grew up (on a small chunk of Earth that Lucifer had assigned demons to centuries ago, that no one knew existed), he was an anomaly for his behaviour. He was steered clear of, whispered about and gawked at for years as he shrunk further and further into himself until he was no more than an irate vessel. 

Typically, Harry wouldn’t act on his feelings, letting them stew and bubble underneath the surface usually until he had sex (with one of the small handful of men and women that weren’t deterred by his personality, but allured) or found something to punch—which was more often than not a wall. But after years of hating his life and experiencing everyone else hate it too, he’d had enough.

He had been taking a walk after successfully upsetting his family for the umpteenth time, trying not to break his knuckles, when he’d heard jeers clearly aimed at him. It’s the resident saddo! Come to kill the mood, have you? He ignored them as if they’d bounced off him, which they never did and never had done, but he carried on walking because that’s what he always did. And he was doing so well, even tuning some of it out until he heard words that no one had ever said to him before. Why don’t you just kill yourself? dripping in venom, and that caused Harry to stop—dead in his tracks as he tried to process what he’d just heard. But no amount of time would have changed his mind right then and there as he turned around and stormed over to the voice with a purpose he’d never quite felt before. He faintly recognised his taunter from school, (knowing he was a bully then, and a bully now) and he felt like what he was about to do had been deserved for quite a while as he swung his arm back. The look of panic on the guy’s face was rewarding in more ways than one, but Harry thinks wiping the look away as his fist collides with his nose was a much better feeling.

That was the first time he’d ever hit someone, and he probably had gone a bit overboard, as he sat down in front of his crying mother with bloodied—but not broken—knuckles. “You nearly k-killed him, Harry,” she says through quiet sobs. She had tried so hard her entire life to prove demons weren’t all bad and he’d embarrassed her, scared her and tainted her reputation (even more so than he already did just by existing) all in one day.

“He deserved it, Mum. I’m sorry but it’s the truth.” Harry picks at the blood underneath his nails.

His father clears his throat from across the room, as he stands with his hands braced on the back of a dining chair. “Son, you’re nineteen. You’ve only got a few years until you stop growing and remain the person you are forever,” he walks over to perch on the arm of the chair his mother was sitting in, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Your mother and I have been talking, and we’ve decided… that you will go and live among the humans, to build yourself a life away from here where you are so unhappy so that hopefully you can turn your life around before it’s too late.” The words wind Harry as he sits there shocked, watching as more tears fall down his mother’s face and looking towards the doorway when he notices Gemma is standing there, despair apparent on her own face. And he suddenly wishes he could take back every bad word he has ever said as she looks at him with an expression only someone with unconditional love for a person could have. He hopes she understands as he mirrors her face on his own, a silent communication of I’m sorry. I love you.

“Harry⁠—” His mother starts but he’s on his feet, hands shaky as he nods, suddenly recognising what was happening.

“Okay,” he says. “When do I go?”

“Tomorrow morning,” his father says. “and Harry, if you’re going to hurt people that deserve it, at least make it worth your while.”

And Harry did (dabbling in other things here and there but always going back to what he knew best). He found his purpose in culling his new home from demons and humans alike much worse than the one who told him to kill himself, and Harry often laughs at how mild that now seems, in comparison to what he does—a violence that his mother will never accept, one his father acknowledges and his sister ignores.

The transition to human-inhabited Earth was much smoother than Harry had anticipated. He chose to go to northern England, where his parents had picked their accents from and found a quaint flat—albeit using his parents’ money but he hadn’t taken advantage of his mind compulsion which had felt wrong to do so early on. He worked hard, learning how to make himself available for summonings; building up his repertoire, honing the skills that made him desirable and collecting souls in return. 

And he’d been going nearly eighty years now (his physical age ceasing once he turned twenty-five) and managing to find his own sort of peace of mind like his parents’ hoped, still facing no problems he couldn’t overcome.

Until Y/N.

He knows she’s the reason he feels a very sudden urge to get to the bar that’s closest to her house. It’s a deep-rooted feeling of dread that makes him gasp and his skin prickle, an unfamiliar feeling that he immediately knows he hates. And he wishes he could ignore it, pretend it is a fluke and everything is fine and run himself a nice bath—but instead he’s pulling on shoes and closing his eyes, mapping out the journey from his house to Y/N’s and then the bar before he’s evaporating and reappearing in the alleyway a jog away from the entrance. The sense of unease is crushingly strong now and Harry swears he can feel a weight on his lungs; he thinks this must be what panic is like, but he’s never known it to be so unbearable.

He wastes no time, marching into the bar as inconspicuously as a man like himself could and scanning the room. She sticks out to him straight away; sat at a table across from a woman with an easy smile on her face and a half-empty glass in her hand. Harry furrows his brows, wondering what the false alarm was all about; she’s happy (which is something he’s not seen yet) but the pounding in his chest hasn’t stopped—and he’s ready to turn around, thinking about that bath he should be in right now when out of the corner of his eyes sees someone saunter over to their table. There’s a darkness surrounding him that only Harry can see and suddenly the dread disappears—Harry breathes a sigh of relief once he knows it’s nothing he can’t handle and relaxes against the wall. But then Y/N is standing up from her chair and pointing an antagonising finger towards the demon which has Harry tuning into her voice and the worry rising once again; he is on his way to getting emotional whiplash.

“I asked you to leave us alone.” She snaps and Harry rolls his eyes muttering a fuck’s sake under his breath, but staying put, giving her the chance to not go too far. The demon smiles and despite Harry only being able to see the side of his face, he knows it’s sickening.

“Thought you pretty girls might have changed your minds.” He steps closer to Y/N and she tries to take a larger one back but her chair is in the way so she stays put. Just fucking sit down, Harry thinks, but it’s safe to assume she’s refusing to back down.

“Well we haven’t, thank you, so kindly fuck off.” This has Harry pushing away from the wall and slowly weaving his way towards her, endeavouring to stay calm. As he expected, the demon loses his attempt at charm, a snarl curling onto his lips as his hand shoots out to grab Y/N’s wrist. She gasps and tries to pull away but he doesn’t let go and the woman Y/N is with is standing up, ready to intervene but Harry gets there first.

“There you are. Been looking everywhere, thought you’d left without me,” Harry tries to smile at Y/N, attempting to communicate with his eyes to play along before his gaze hardens as he looks down at the demon. “Let go of her.” He swiftly does but Harry notices the look of recognition pass between them as they simultaneously think: I know what you are. “When someone tells you no, they mean no,” he wastes no more time on him, turning back to Y/N, “You two still want me to take you home?”

Y/N misses a beat, slightly tipsy Harry realises, before she catches on, “Oh yeah, yes please, thanks.” Grabbing her bag from the back of her chair and pushing past the demon who is still standing too close for comfort—her friend hastily following along wordlessly. “Fucking creep,” Y/N mutters under her breath but Harry grabs her arm quickly as they make their way out.

“He can still hear you,” he warns and she shrugs him off with a sigh.

“Oops,” she deadpans, speeding up so she can walk in front of Harry and out of the door.

He introduces himself once they’re outside, turning to the woman with his hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Harry. Sorry to cut your night short.” 

She accepts his handshake with a small smile, “That’s okay. He was really gross. I’m Sarah—”

“It’s not okay. Are you following me?” Y/N cuts in, hands on hips.

Harry sighs, “No, I’m not following you, it was a coincidence. I’m sorry for intervening but I needed to talk to you anyway so—”

“So what? You think it’s okay to exert your weird powers and make us leave? I was handling it just fine.”

“Uhh, Y/N, I’m going to phone Mitch,” Sarah rushes out, gesturing with her phone awkwardly as she walks out of earshot.

Harry frowns at Y/N, observing the way she reaches out for support from the wall. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps.

“What the fuck were you thinking? What did I say yesterday, for fuck’s sake?” He crosses his arms and his biceps strain against the short sleeves of his black t-shirt.

“About what?” She scoffs before it clicks, “Wait, was he—That was a demon?” Her eyes widen and her brows crease. Harry watches her as the realisation hits and she covers her mouth with her hand, the other still bracing against the wall. “Is he going to kill me? Oh God, what is happening?” she whispers. Harry’s gaze softens a bit as she starts to panic.

He takes a step towards her, “Y/N, look at me,” her eyes flit up to his, “He’s not going to kill you, okay? Won’t let that happen… Are you okay?” He asks.

She shakes her head, “Not really,” as she slides down the brick wall. “Is that why you said he could still hear me when I called him a creep?” Harry nods. She seems to ponder for a moment, eyes unfocused and Harry glances at Sarah who’s still on the phone. Y/N gasps, “Is that why the light around him was all murky?” 

Harry snaps his head back towards Y/N, “What? You could see that?”

She nods, “Is that bad?”

Harry lets out a humourless laugh, “It’s not exactly… good. Ah fuck, I’ve been trying to ignore this shit,” he sighs, rubbing his hands down his face and scratching at his jaw.

“Ignore what shit? Start telling me stuff,” she huffs.

“Careful...” he looks at her, shaking his head, “but I suppose I’ll tell you something.” She sits up slightly, intrigued and pleasantly surprised that he complied. “I think I can sense when you’re in danger… That’s why I was here tonight. And when you were at work and I came to get you, I could sense that you were anxious. I think you were on the verge of a panic attack.”

“Are you being serious?” She was hardly expecting that.

“No, I’m making all of this up, actually,” he lowers his head in mock surrender.

“Oh fuck off, Harry, that’s not funny,” Y/N stands up from the wall to get a closer look at him. “You really could be making it all up for a laugh. Could’ve drugged me and pretended you could teleport, or whatever,” she squints at him, analysing his face and scowling at him when his lip curls. “Why have I been so willingly believing you?” As soon as she asks the question, he leans down to her height and she watches his eyes cloud over with swirls as if someone has spilled a pot of black paint right into his waterline.

“Think these are contacts?” He asks, smirk ever-present. Right. She’d forgotten about that.

“Probably not,” she grumbles.

“What was that?”

“No! They’re not contacts.” He grins and leans back, eyes clear once again.

“You back to believing me then, Bambi?” She rolls her eyes but nods, “Because trust me, there are much better things for me to be doing than pulling an elaborate prank on a human—”

“Y/N!” Sarah calls as she walks back over. She flinches slightly at the abrupt sound of her voice. “Mitch is going to be here soon, do you want a lift?”

“Uh—”

“That’s okay, I’ll take her home. We’ll still need to clear some stuff up,” Harry answers.

“Are you sure?” Sarah directs towards Y/N, and Harry realises that she has every right to be suspicious; having briefly witnessed an argument—not the most stellar introduction.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m sure. I… I trust him,” Harry feels a little zap of warmth go through him at her confession. It was hard for her to say, made obvious by the way she won’t look at him, and he represses a smile.

“I really am sorry about earlier, Sarah. Isn’t my preferred way of introducing myself, I’ll admit.” Harry feels Y/N look at him then but his eyes stay on Sarah, who gives him a smile.

“That’s okay, I’ve seen worse, honestly. How did you two meet? Y/N hasn’t mentioned you.” She gives a pointed look to Y/N who glares back at her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have expected her to,” he smiles. “We just started working together. Safe to say we butt heads sometimes,” he looks at Y/N and only grins wider at her scowl. “Just needed to ask some questions about work and I can’t log into the system to input some data, s’all.”

“That sounds like a fun Saturday night!” Sarah laughs slightly, enjoying the look of dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face, just as Mitch pulls up beside them. Y/N gives him a small wave which he returns with a nod. “Text me, okay?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, I will,” as Sarah gets in the car. “Shouldn’t trust you. You’re a world-class liar,” she mutters under her breath, a fake smile plastered on her face as she waves the car off.

“You do trust me though,” he nudges her, far too amused for her liking. “I’m honoured, Bambi, to be bestowed with such a precious thing.” He places a hand over his heart and she flips him off, pivoting on her heel and walking in most likely the wrong direction to her home. “Oi!” He calls, “not wise to be on your own with a demon on the loose.” This stops her, words intended to be teasing hitting harder than either of them thought they would.

She lets herself think, really think, about it for a few seconds. What could have happened? “Harry?” She breathes, back still turned. “Was he really going to hurt me?” He’s in front of her in an instant; literally appearing, a pinch between his brows and lips downturned.

“I don’t know what he wanted to do and I don’t want to think about it, okay? Neither should you.” His tone is harsher than he means it to be and he feels like an asshole when her eyes well up, glimpsing up at him with a look reminiscent of the first time he saw her. He’s reminded of the alcohol in her system when her lip wobbles—feeling like he’s witnessed enough of her anger to know she’d prefer to showcase scowling over crying—and he’s trying to stay composed. “Don’t cry, little thing,” he sighs, “I forget how delicate you are,” Harry brings a tentative hand up to her bare shoulder and cringes at the ice-cold skin that greets him. “You’re freezing,” he whispers before he strokes down her arm slowly and closes his eyes, concentrating as warmth trails out of his fingertips and into her skin.

Y/N gasps as her body fills with heat; she feels as though she’s stepped into a log cabin with a roaring fireplace, or snuggled under a mountain of blankets, or submerged herself in a deep bath. Her eyes flutter shut, displacing a tear from her waterline, and a loosened breath escapes her mouth; refusing to mention her below-comfortable body temperature feeling silly now with the newfound intense warmth she’s experiencing. Despite the earlier drinks that had poured a pleasant coating along her throat, Y/N’s sure she’s tipsier currently than she had been thirty seconds ago. And when she feels Harry’s thumb wipe the droplet away she very nearly melts into his touch but she blinks her eyes open instead, hoping to clear some of the fog that had conveniently steered her thoughts in a much nicer direction. “I want to go home.”

Harry nods, hand trailing down to meet her own—eyes never straying from hers, still filled with unshed tears. “Hold my hand, yeah? I’ll take you home,” she lets him intertwine their fingers, hers swallowed by his much larger ones. “No one can see us,” he assures. And then they’re gone.

Y/N doesn’t like how nice it feels to hold Harry’s hand. She thinks she must just be touch-starved, but it’s hard to deny that the warmth he emits is addictive. And with the way he’s squeezing her she almost thinks he feels the same way, but he then keeps squeezing and the bones in her fingers are seconds away from shattering. “Ouch!” He looks at her briefly and then back towards her front door, relaxing his hand, but his face is far from tranquil. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s not right. Stay here.” Y/N feels her heart drop, dozens of possibilities running through her head in a matter of seconds, watching as Harry steps up to her door and wiggles the handle. Still locked. Y/N releases a breath. “Gimme your keys,” Harry sticks his palm up and twitches his fingers impatiently as she rummages around in her bag. “Stay here,” he repeats once she puts them in his hand. “Do you understand me?” His eyes burn through her own as she nods silently. “Say it, Y/N.”

“I understand.” She doesn’t argue. Her eyes flicker around as he enters her home, checking behind her, entirely paranoid. The clothes she’s wearing are suddenly itchy and hot, and her necklace is digging in, and God does Y/N hate waiting. Every second drags on for what feels like an eternity as she stands in front of her door, hands sweaty and grasped together for dear life.

She thinks she hears Harry groan and nearly reaches out for the handle but before she can, he’s swinging the door open looking far more relaxed than he had mere minutes ago. “You can come in. It’s safe. Just my stupid mate, Niall.”

Y/N flinches, “What? There’s someone in there?” Harry nods, resigned.

“Said he tried to go to my house but ended up here. He’s a pain but he’s friendly, come on.” He ushers her with a wave, “Want me to hold your hand?” Y/N glares at him and bats his hand away—his unapologetic grin annoyingly contagious as she averts her eyes and steps past him. Sure enough, there’s a man in her living room sitting on her sofa, who stands up as soon as Y/N enters. He has a sheepish grin on his face as he extends a hand.

“Hi, I’m Niall. Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head.

Y/N is hesitant but accepts the handshake, aware of her clammy hands, “Y/N,” she replies, “Why are you in my house, Niall?” Her heart is beating out of control.

“Not so sure myself, to be honest with you! Swear I was going to Harry’s,” he nods towards Harry who has taken his place next to Y/N. 

“You’re a—You’re a demon as well then,” Y/N concludes, but Niall nods anyway.

“I am. Promise I’m nice though, don’t want to cause you any harm,” he holds his hands up and Y/N glances at Harry to find him already looking at her.

“He is, I told you already. Didn’t lie,” Harry encourages.

“This is—I don’t—” she stutters, putting a hand to her forehead. To say she is overwhelmed would be an understatement; the night’s events have yet to be processed but they’re still being piled on.

“I need to talk to Niall, okay?” Harry rests his hand on her back when he notices her shallow breathing. “Let’s calm you down, yeah?” She looks up at him but her eyes are absent and Harry can tell she’s not really in the room anymore, “Okay?” pulls a short nod from her as he guides them to her bedroom. He glances behind him to give Niall a look and he takes a seat on her sofa again.

Y/N stands by her bed and stares at her hands as Harry shuts her door. Her voice is quiet as she calls his name and he faces her immediately, “This is too much,” she whispers, “Why is he in my house?” The huffed laugh she lets out is humourless.

“I’m going to talk to him, figure it out,” Y/N’s hands are jittery, scratching at her arm until the skin starts to sting. “Stop that,” Harry pulls her wrist away gently, thumb on his other hand stroking over the spot as he takes away the pain instantly. “I’ll run you a bath, okay?” She doesn’t object so he walks over to her en-suite and turns the light on. “Come sit,” he pats the toilet seat lid.

As Harry kneels down and turns the tap on he can’t help but sigh, wishing this was his bath he was drawing, getting lost in the swishing of the water as his hand makes little patterns. Y/N has an array bubble bath that he generously pours in, turning the water a pretty lilac. The warmth of the liquid lulls him into a distracted state as his thoughts escalate, about Y/N mainly. About what he’s going to do with her; with their connection. What can he do—when he doesn’t even understand it? He can feel her watching him but he’s so zoned out it doesn’t fully register, not until she gently nudges him with her foot. “Harry, that’s too hot.” He hums in confusion before looking at his red hand and realising he was only running hot water.

“Oh, ‘m sorry.” He turns the cold on. He feels uneasy about letting his guard down—even for a moment—his tired expression clear as day to Y/N. Sweat beads at his forehead as the steam from the water catches up with him and he takes a moment to stand up, coughing slightly as if to diffuse the non-existent tension he’s convinced himself of. Y/N stays where she is, looking up at him with something akin to concern on her equally-as-tired face. She thinks this is the first time she’s felt not even an ounce of anger towards him, not even subconsciously, and she finds herself reaching out. Her hand stops before her brain does, refusing to touch his elbow as she’d thought to. It stays suspended in mid-air before she clears her throat awkwardly.

“Thank you, Harry, I can do it now.” He gives her an absent nod, scratching at his jaw before leaving the bathroom and she exhales shakily, getting to her feet and testing the water with her hand. It’s not her perfect temperature and the tub isn’t full yet but she doesn’t care, as she removes her clothes haphazardly and sinks into the still-running water. Y/N feels her muscles unclench at the sensation of near-molten liquid swimming around her, letting out a tiny involuntary moan that she immediately hopes Harry doesn’t hear.

He does. He stops mid-sentence when it hits his ears and narrows his eyes at Niall when he giggles slightly. “Don’t be gross, Niall,” Harry scolds.

“Me? It caught you off guard, did it not? Almost as if you’re trying to hear her,” he smiles knowingly.

“Stop being childish. I’ve been fucking running around after her for two days. I have to be alert.”

“No wonder your scent is drenched here then.” Suddenly Niall’s eyes light up and he clicks his fingers, “Ah! That must be why I ended up here! It reeks of you, must’ve confused the ol’ brain.”

“Yeah sure, the century-old-very-experienced-never-teleported-to-the-wrong-place-before brain. That makes sense.” Harry huffs, “There’s something going on, man. I dunno what to do.”

Niall guffaws, “Are you asking for my help? No way!” He laughs again, much to Harry’s displeasure.

“This isn’t fucking funny,” he crosses his arms across his chest, voice deadly steady.

“I’m not helping unless you explicitly ask,” Niall’s grinning, completely overjoyed by having the upper hand—a rare occurrence in their friendship.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry’s arms tense.

“Come onnn,” Niall drags out, “Come on, just ask and I’m all ears.”

Harry is reminded of how much he can dislike Niall (which always makes him feel a bit guilty because it’s just Harry being grumpy that causes the dislike and nothing genuinely wrong with Niall) as he sighs and sits down on Y/N’s sofa. Clearing his throat, he starts, “Niall, dearest Niall,” he smiles mordaciously. “Please will you help me?”

Niall claps his hands together, a broad and satisfied grin on his shameless face, “Nothing would make me happier, old friend.”

“I loathe you.”

“Now now, what’s up? Are you having trouble keeping tabs on the sweet-looking human?” He sits next to Harry, turning his body to face him and pulling his ankle over his knee.

“No, of course not,” Niall only smiles further. “She’s an angry little thing,” he admits, debating whether he really should feed him the whole story, before deciding fuck it and recounting his last two days in full.

Niall is sat back in disbelief by the end, but also clearly still amused. “So she was just crying? And that summoned you? Are you getting soft?” He laughs. When Harry’s gaze darkens and his eyes start to turn black, Niall holds his hands up, “Okay, sorry! It’s not funny. What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Harry throws his hands in the air, hair mussed from ruffling it so much. Niall has never seen him so distressed—it’s the first thing that makes him furrow his brows in realisation that the situation is serious. “I hate worrying about her, it’s not natural. I don’t even know her and all of a sudden I can tell when she’s in danger? I can feel it in my stomach, in my bones. It’s fucking torture, Niall.” Harry rubs his hands down his face.

Niall is stumped. Harry’s never really needed his help before, and for it to be about something neither of them has any clue about. It’s worrying for two senior demons to be out of their depth. Unheard of, even. “Why don’t you get to know her then?” he finally comes up with.

Harry looks at him through his hands. “What? How does that help me?”

“Well, maybe you’d be less angry about it if you started to like her,” Niall shrugs.

“That would definitely make things worse. You’re fucking useless!” He stands up.

“Hey, that’s not fair. This is new to both of us, Harry.”

“I know. Sorry.” He sighs, sitting back down. “But getting to know her… She’s a human, Niall.”

“And?”

“It makes everything more complicated.” They stare at each other, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, she’s not going anywhere, is she? And whilst we figure out a better plan, you can help me out.” That grin is back.

Harry sighs but welcomes a distraction, “What with…?”

“Ah, you know me—”

“Niall.”

“I may have upset a human in a very high position who may have threatened to start some sort of war—It’s nothing to worry about really, I just need someone with mind compulsion to help it go away,” he smiles at Harry, eyes teasingly beseeching.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? You’re no better than the human,” but by his words, Niall knows he’s got him and he lets out a quiet cheer, patting Harry on the bicep.

“Thanks, man. We should probably do it sooner than later, though,” Harry rolls his eyes. It was never easy with Niall.

“Fine. Let’s go now.”

“Aren’t you gonna—” Niall trails off, pointing towards Y/N’s bedroom.

Harry sighs, “Oh yeah. I’ll be a second.” He tousles his hair, trying to hide his dishevelled state as he knocks on the door. When he receives no reply his hand tentatively turns the door handle, sincerely hoping he isn’t about to make things worse. An empty bedroom greets him and he breathes a sigh of relief which quickly hitches when he hears it; a watery intake of breath that anyone with lesser capabilities would miss. Harry’s hesitation vanishes as he knocks on the bathroom door. “Y/N? Can I come in?”

Y/N gasps, coughing quickly to cover it up (although Harry still hears it), “Uh, yeah!” She tries to sound upbeat—which even if she wasn’t crying would still be odd considering she’s never been excited to see Harry—but it only sounds unstable. Harry opens the door slowly and catches the panicked wiping of her face as she tries to brush away the tears before her hand disappears into the tumultuous clouds of bubbles that rest around her. He feels that steady throbbing in his gut; the desire to make it all better fighting with the frustration of feeling that urge in the first place.

The frustration wins as a condescending comment claws its way up his throat, “Oh Bambi, you’re all tearful. You feeling overwhelmed?” Harry’s brows pinch together and he frowns, which Y/N visibly reacts to as another tear falls down her face. “You’re a little crybaby, aren’t you? Been crying so much.” She doesn’t say anything; just watches him with big, wet eyes and hot cheeks as he takes a seat on the toilet seat lid.

“Did you want something?” Y/N asks, voice congested.

“I’m leaving with Niall now. Needs me to sort something out.”

“You’re leaving?” She squeaks before she can help it.

“Don’t you want me to?” He smirks, trying to ignore the fear in her eyes. They well up again and she turns her head away, scrunching them shut. She rests her head on her knees that she’s hugging to her chest, hiding as much of her face as she can. Harry’s guilt starts to overpower his pride and he swears he can feel every single tear as they fall. “I won’t be long and then I’ll come back, yeah?” But she doesn’t look at him, acknowledge him even. “I’ll come back,” he whispers one last time before hesitantly standing up and walking towards the door, keeping his eyes on her. Once the door clicks shut he hears her quivering exhale and makes a swift exit to find Niall.

“Okay, let’s go,” he breathes, taking in Niall’s expression.

“That was mean of you, Harry,” he says.

“Yeah.” His hand finds Niall’s shoulder and he gives him a nod before they vanish from Y/N’s living room without disturbing as much as a follicle of dust. But Y/N’s sure she feels a draft rattle the bathroom door as she lets out a sob and buries her head further into her knees. The water grows cold but she can’t make herself move—wallowing in her own despair for as long as she can cope with the shivering. She hates how conflicted Harry is making her feel. She’s angry at him for disrupting her life but is unsafe without him. Dependent on a man she does not know, a man that is not human, a man that she can’t believe she told she trusted. And yet she feels every single second that he is gone.

The cold breeze whips around Harry’s neck as he steps out of the Scottish Parliament Building; the feeling welcome as he breathes in deeply. Niall trails out behind him, wise to stay quiet. Harry’s guilty conscience is weighing heavily on him—the woman’s memory he’d just manipulated most definitely undeserving. But Niall was adamant that it had to be done and for once, Harry didn’t have the energy to fight him on it. “What was it this time?” He sighs as they walk towards a nearby bench.

“Broke her heart, didn’t I?” Niall tries to joke but Harry doesn’t entertain his attempted grin. “Comes with being a demon, you know as well as me. And of course she wasn’t best pleased and it all got blown out of proportion really. So thank you for your help. Didn’t much fancy going to war... We weren’t even really seeing each other—” Niall rambles on but Harry’s distracted; eyes focused on the disgruntled looking man who is squinting rather intensely at the pair from across the street. He attempts to ignore him but then the man raises his hand in an accusatory point and begins storming his way over.

“Niall,” Harry starts, whacking an arm out and into Niall’s stomach. He stops with a huff—hasn’t even seen the guy yet, oblivious as ever in his own world.

“What?” He looks at Harry and follows his eyes towards the angry civilian. “Shit.”

“Niall, what the fuck do you do with your life?”

“Let’s not get into that now, eh! Big smiles!” He says just as the man starts shouting.

“I know you! You stole my girlfriend!” He spits, stocky neck turning red.

“Ah, I believe I actually helped her, sir—”

“Don’t bullshit me!” He stops at Niall’s chin, fronts near touching, and Harry is disappointed he doesn’t find this more amusing. “You fucking convinced her to leave me.”

“I think she probably left you using her own intuition.”

“You getting smart with me?”

“Why? Are you struggling to understand?” Niall smirks down at him, not even flinching when he watches the man swing his arm back and punch him square in the jaw. His neck snaps to the side but the hit barely tickles him and Harry watches the man’s eyes widen slightly at the lack of reaction he pulled, taking a step back. Niall needs only to glance in Harry’s direction before he’s stepping up to the man himself and staring him in the eyes.

“You don’t recognise either of us. Your girlfriend left you because you are a shit person. Now go home and construct a long apology,” he nods dumbly, eyes absent as Harry strips away his freewill and gives him a little condescending pat on the head. The man stumbles away and Harry turns to Niall, wholly unimpressed. “If there’s anyone else you’ve fucked off you need to tell me right now.”

He scoffs, “Life is much easier when you can choose what you want people to remember.”

Harry just shrugs, “You could have learned,”

“Yeah well I didn’t, which is why I’m so nice to you,” he’s smiling again, completely brushing off the sour interaction.

“Right…” Harry scowls, crossing his arms. “I’m going home before someone else recognises you.”

“To your home or...” he trails off.

“I said I would go back,” Harry sighs, feeling the thump in his gut and he panics for a second, thinking she’s in danger but it settles down again. “To see if she’s alright,” Harry clarifies.

Y/N wouldn’t say she feels particularly alright, wrapped in her dressing gown and sinking into her sofa, pulling the material around herself in an attempt to feel shielded. She didn’t much want to go to bed after her bath, far too sad and nervous to try to sleep—and also aware of Harry’s words: I’ll come back. It feels silly but she is somewhat holding him to it; she doesn’t want to seem too eager but being in bed and having him appear seems like something that would only freak her out more, so the sofa feels safer. Her TV is on but she is paying it no mind, the anxiety sending her into a sort of incoherent daze as her eyes unfocus on the screen. It’s late and her head is screaming at her to go to bed but she’s stuck in her spot with her body slowly slumping further and further into the cushions until her eyelids are fluttering shut and she finally stops thinking.

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s house again, he nearly makes a beeline for her bedroom but does a double take when he sees the Y/N-like figure on her sofa. A quiet sigh escapes his mouth, frowning at the uncomfortable position she’d fallen into and wondering if she had waited for him. With tentative steps he makes his way over, near tiptoeing for the first time in probably over fifty years, and observes the way her breaths tremble the hairs that have fallen in front of her peaceful face. His fingers reach out before he can stop them, brushing the strands away from her forehead, lip twitching when she unconsciously leans into his touch.

With little deliberation, Harry tucks one large hand underneath Y/N’s knees and the other sneaks around her back, lifting her up with no effort. She whines a bit but doesn’t stir, resting her head comfortably against his shoulder as he takes her to her bedroom. He nudges the covers back with his knee before gently laying her down and pulling them over her. She must be exhausted, he thinks, as a yawn of his own overtakes him. It would be so nice to go home now; to snuggle down in his own bed, surrounded by his own smell and his own things, but he replays the look on her face when he left her and can’t bring himself to be the cause of that again. So with a sigh, Harry makes his way to the chair he was first acquainted with in her room and takes a seat, leaning back and stretching his legs out, bum close to the edge. His eyes close easily, as if weighed down by magnets. The moon shines through a gap in Y/N’s curtains and he can feel it on his face but Harry’s legs have turned to lead and he is being pulled further and further away from consciousness as he focuses on the soft sounds of Y/N’s breaths and her steady heartbeat until he too joins her in sleep.

Y/N has never been one to have many nightmares, dreams mainly uneventful. Usually she wakes with no recollection of dreaming at all which has been somewhat of a bummer in the past when her imagination had been running wild and there had been a level of excitement that she might experience a rousing dream that she’d wake up and be thinking about all day. But to no avail, her nights are always peaceful—so much so that Y/N had researched lucid dreaming when she was particularly bored one evening, not hopeful that it would work but intrigued nonetheless. The idea that anyone could make genuine decisions whilst they were unconscious was fascinating and she cursed her brain for being so intent on just sleeping.

However tonight, it seems, is an anomaly. Just like the last two days of her life. Her heartbeat picks up and Harry feels himself pull away from his deep unconsciousness slightly but he stays asleep, readjusting on the chair in his less-than-ideal position. Y/N, on the other hand, is restless as her mind pins her down and forces vivid images upon her. Dark eyes that don’t belong to Harry, but a looming figure with teeth sharpened into points that look like they would penetrate skin with just the slightest of touches. The thing corners her in the box-like room they’re in, leaning closer and closer until Y/N can see that its eyes are billowing smoke as it falls down deathly gaunt cheeks. There are no windows in this dream, no indications that it might not be real, no escape route, just the claustrophobic feeling of trying to push herself as far as possible into the wall. Her hands in the real world are clutching onto her sheets impossibly tight, having pulled them out from under the covers to cool down, but no amount of air would stop the terror sweats that have started. And it only gets worse when what she (unnaturally quickly) assumes is a demon squeezes her skin tight and pulls her up the wall by her waist, claws pinching her and she makes a noise in her dream that also echoes around her bedroom.

Harry’s ears are alert now but his eyes are yet to catch up with them, eyelids moving slightly. It’s not until Y/N cries out that he is sitting up hastily, looking over at her to see that she is also sat up, arms tight around her knees and tears streaming out of her wide, scared eyes. To Y/N, he is just a shadow—a large, dark, looming shadow much like the one she’s just been forced to encounter. When he leans forward with a small, “Hey, it’s me,” and Harry’s face is revealed in the moonlight, she lets out a loud sigh; a whimper of relief following before burying her face in her hands and trying to tame her thumping heart which is making her feel nauseous.

With shaky hands, she rids herself of the dressing gown Harry had left her in—skin uncomfortably warm, shoving it to the floor and leaving herself in her oversized pyjama shirt. Harry stands up slowly and moves to the end of her bed. “Please don’t just stand there. You look like a monster that lives under my bed,” she whispers.

Harry smiles, “I kind of am,” he chuckles but doesn’t move, unsure of what she wants.

“Can you—” She pats the space next to her, eyes watching him with uncertainty. “I had a dream—” Y/N rubs at her lip nervously as Harry makes his way round and brings his knees up onto her mattress, keeping his distance. “—you came back,” he nods, following her shaky fingers as they pick at her skin. He brings her wrist down gently. “It was really scary,” she frowns. “Could you make it go away please?”

Harry doesn’t understand for a moment, wondering how he could even possibly make her feel better, and then it clicks, “I don’t know, Bambi… I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you,” he tries but Y/N starts shaking her head.

“You won’t be. I’m asking you to do it,” she insists, looking down at his knees. “I don’t want to feel scared anymore, I want to sleep.” Harry feels his heart squeeze, guilt trickling through his veins. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Her eyes meet his when she smells it; his signature scent, the telling sign that he’s doing something. Y/N’s body relaxes and her eyelids droop slightly and Harry can feel her demeanour shift. She moves to lie back down, turning on her side and when Harry starts to get up she shoots her hand out, “Please, stay,” her eyes are barely open and he wonders if she really means it, but he doesn't rather fancy going back to his chair. So he slowly lowers himself down next to her, elbow folding underneath the side of his head as he looks at her drift off again.

Just as he thinks she’s gone, her fingers reach and grip onto the front of his shirt lightly and she whispers, words jumbled, “You’re a nice demon, Harry. You’re not scary.” Her breathing evens out after that and her hand stays attached to the fabric of his top but Harry is trying too hard to ignore the warmth bubbling in his chest at her confession to care. Sleep doesn’t find him as easily as his head swirls with thoughts and he keeps an eye on Y/N to make sure she’s still okay. Harry’s mind only get louder when she rolls towards him and onto her stomach, head manoeuvring onto his pillow so close that her breaths hit his chin and he knows he should probably move away but she’s right there and she’s soft and she’s warm, and his resolve seems to crumble around her anyway. So he lets himself trace her nose with his forefinger, and across the apple of her cheek, down her jaw and back up to her temple. Harry’s sure their heartbeats have synced up and it makes his beat harder and his touches longer, keening at the way she shuffles even closer. He knows she would recoil at the thought of doing this in a right state of mind and would’ve preferred anyone else to stay with her, but Harry does his best to hope that he can bring some sort of comfort, calming abilities aside.

Seeing her crying in the bath earlier had hurt more than he’d realised, relishing in the distraction of helping Niall and tucking it away for later. Now that it was later Harry hates himself for talking to her like that, in aiding in her tears, in letting his anxiety of their situation overpower her obvious need of solace. He’d felt nineteen again; he’d felt mean.

And looking down at her now, as he places a tentative hand on her back, he sincerely hopes she doesn’t wake up angry at him in the morning—even though he most definitely deserves it.

[michonnes]

She is a survivor.

[gurugirl]

Tales From the Modern Incubus Part 12 Today!

@ 5pm CST

We've got 200 notes (just barely) on the last part and I didn't even have to beg you guys so I'll be posting on schedule today :) xoxo

SNEAKY BELOW (it’s not much of a sneaky but you’ll be getting the next part soon enough so no complaints!)

[frm9pm]

My deranged HCs that Harry loves sweets and and eats them all the time since he was deprived for the first 11 years of his life. He constantly has something sweet in his pocket for himself and lost kids during work. He doesn’t get cavities thanks to magic.

[lyrablack1883]

Hjp as secretive plotter and dlm as demon king of salvation

Hp x orv crossover

(Psssst, I don’t mind if anyone want to write them, the scenario is only inside my head)