Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.
A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!
Word Count: 3.1k
Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJORÂ size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)
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Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.
She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were⊠she didnât know, but perhaps sheâd keep her distance.
Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) sheâd need a refill.
She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner âit wasnât perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.
She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.
The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.
Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, âYou donât need another drink, Y/n.â
Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.
âSays who? Iâve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?â
The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.
âYour name is printed on your cup,â he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.
She laughed and smiled, âOh, I forgot,â she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, âHarry.â
âWhatâs an angel doing in a place like this anyway?â
Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, âItâs a club. I donât know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?â Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasnât worried. But she did like this manâs vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.
âYou should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,â an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.
She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, âBut youâre here,â she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, âYou gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?â
âIs the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?â His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.
âMaybe. But you wonât let me get another drink so I donât knowâŠâ
His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, âOh youâre parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.â
She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.
âDid you swallow for me?â He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.
Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until theyâd moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.
He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves⊠Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.
But it was Halloween, and this was what sheâd been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.
Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers⊠He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.
âLove when I make angels wet. Youâre just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?â
She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping heâd put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.
âYesâŠâ She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, âGonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.â
Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donnyâs hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).
âCanât even stand up straight and thatâs just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when itâs my cock splitting you in half, hm?â
She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.
Y/n didnât want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.
Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.
Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, âLook at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck thatâs so prettyâŠâ
She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking manâs direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like heâd found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.
âYou gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?â
Y/nâs rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, âOpen up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.â
She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.
Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"
Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's⊠I don't know⊠It's soâŠ" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.
"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home⊠No one ever forgets it."
She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.
When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.
"OohhâŠ" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "MmmâŠ"
"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."
She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.
"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."
She was already letting him have her. She was his⊠whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone⊠sloppy, wet, deranged, disgustingâŠ
"Mm ahhhâŠ" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.
Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.
Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.
She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "FuckâŠ"
"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."
While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head⊠it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.
He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her⊠he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.
She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off âshe'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison⊠but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.
Slushy, gloopy, splatting⊠his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.
"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."
She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"
Y/n was simply done for⊠her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.
Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.
Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed itâŠ
She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.
But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.
It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up âhe left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.
She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest⊠Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.
It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.
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CW: Smut, long hair Harry (I swear all my spooky fics arenât with lhh), language, Harry has an attitude problem aka heâs an asshole, obsessive behavior, one emotional moment and slight dirty talk (sorry I like my fictional men very vocal).
A/N: This was very fun because who doesnât love a bit of unhinged behavior followed by extreme regret? I hope yâall enjoy!! AlsoâŠitâs been too long since Iâve mentioned Harryâs hatred for Shawn so I tossed that in for funsiesđ€
Summary: Harry canât stand you until suddenly he canât stand to be without youđ€
âIf there is a true ruler of the underworld please let them have mercy on me just one time and donât let her-â Harryâs quiet pleading gets cut off by the sound of a door slamming closed, he opens his eyes and looks up and over his shoulder to see who it is that could possibly need to be on the roof of his apartment building at this hour. When his eyes land on an extremely familiar pair of pink fuzzy slippers he lets out a groan and looks down at his feet with a scowl. âI shouldâve knownâŠmercy isnât exactly your thing.â He mumbles as he runs a hand through his long hair, trying his best to ignore the smacking sound that accompanies each step the slipper clad feet make towards him.
âI brought you some snacks.â Your voice is entirely too bright and cheery for it being near midnight and it has Harryâs jaw ticking as you approach him near the railing that keeps people from falling off the ledge of the roof. âI know you-â
âYou donât know me at all.â He snaps as he turns and leans his back against the metal railing, crossing his arms over his chest making the thin material of his black long sleeve shirt strain against the muscles in his biceps while his eyes narrow into a hard glare that you ignore as you take your usual spot in front of him.
âI know you get cranky when you havenât eaten and by the looks of that glare Iâd say youâre well past cranky and are now headed towards full on hangry.â You explain with a shrug as you reach into the floral print tote bag you always have draped over your shoulder, Harry doesnât say anything as he watches you pull out a ziplock bag of cookies.
âYou expect me to eat those?â He asks looking away from your face and down to the bag in your outstretched hand, a look of disgust etched onto his devilishly handsome face. âI donât know how clean your kitchen isâŠyou could live in a shit hole for all I know not to mention I donât know if you even know how to bake-Iâm not risking my health over your very sad looking excuse for chocolate chip cookies.â His voice is low and his tone is harsh but it doesnât even make you flinch, having gotten used to Harryâs temper after the first few times he said something mean to you the very first night you met almost a month ago.
âAs if you really care about your health.â You argue as you shake the bag just a bit, Harryâs glare looses a bit of its hardness as he looks back up to your face just as you flash him a playful smile.
âJust because Iâm one of the Devilâs offspring doesnât mean I donât take my health seriously.â
âOh right because smoking a pack of cigarettes a day and never drinking a single ounce of water is the picture of a healthy lifestyle.â
âItâs half a pack a day and-â He states as he snatches the ziplock bag out of your hands making a chill run down your spine when his fingers brush against the skin of your palm. âI drink one glass of water every week.â He corrects you with a smug little smirk on his face as you roll your eyes.
âDoes that make you the healthiest demon in town then?â You ask curiously while you dig around in your tote, Harry lets out a scoff as he opens the bag of cookies and brings it up to his nose to give it a sniff before deciding to take one out, holding the bag in one hand and examining the baked good in his other as if heâs checking to see if it really is something he should risk eating or not.
âIâm the only demon in town.â He answers harshly, his tone giving away his annoyance at you having the audacity to think there was someone similar to him in the small little town you live in. You quirk a brow at him as you look over just as he takes a rather large bite of one of your cookies.
âAre you sure? Because I think-â
âAt the moment Iâm sure about two things and one is that baking isnât your forte because that was absolutely disgusting.â The corners of your mouth drop down into a frown as he tosses the ziplock holding the rest of your cookies down onto the floor by your feet. âAnd the other is that there arenât any other demons in town because thatâs the whole reason I picked this boring ass place to begin with-no competition.â He tells you as he tosses the half eaten cookie over his shoulder smiling when he hears a muffled noise of surprise mixed with a hint of pain as it lands on a man walking on the sidewalk in front of the building four floors down.
âThat wasnât very nice.â You say with a huff as you walk over to the ledge and look down to make sure the man is okay. Harry just lets out a loud laugh as he turns his head so he can watch the worry slowly fade away from your face once you see the man rubbing his head as he walks away seemingly fine just a little confused.
âI wasnât made to be nice.â He reminds you as he takes a moment to look you over, your hair is blowing around in the wind and the neck of your oversized pink and black sweatshirt is hanging just slightly off your left shoulder giving him a view of your black bra strap and the soft looking black shorts you have on are showing him way more leg than heâs used to seeing from you and for some reason it makes an odd sort of anger begin to flow through his veins.
For the short amount of time youâve been bugging Harry and showing up nightly to his hiding spot on the roof where he likes to take in the view of the city before going to prowl the streets for people too drunk or desperate to be bothered about the idea of selling him their soul in exchange for what they see as a wish but always turns out to be more of a curse, youâve never had less than four layers on because youâre one of those annoying humans that always run cold. So seeing you without a pair of leggings or those god awful looking sweatpants on that he can tell youâve have for over a decade is extremely bothersome because he knows youâre going to complain about how chilly you are as if youâre not the one who picked the extremely short shorts to begin with. And if thereâs one thing Harry hates hearing more than any other sound in the entire world itâs the squeaky whiney tone your voice takes when youâre upset about something.
âYou need more clothes on.â The way he spits the words out as if they cause a bad taste in his mouth makes you look down at your outfit while Harryâs eyes slowly trail from your fuzzy slippers all the way back up to your face.
"Just because you're the offspring of some evil...thing doesn't mean you have to be mean for no reason." You argue, completely ignoring his random outburst and remaining oblivious to the way his eyes are glued on you and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
âAre all humans this unintelligent or is this a special little talent that only you possess?â You ignore him and continue to look out at the city thatâs half asleep and half buzzing with excitement since itâs a Friday and the clock just hit midnight meaning for some people the evening has just begun while others are calling it a night and heading off to the safety of their warm and cozy beds. âHonestly Iâm curious because I just donât understand how you can be so wrong about everything? Itâs fascinating but also tiresome because I hate having to dumb things down but I guess for you Iâll make an exception.â He turns his body so heâs facing you while you stay leaning against the railing.
âOkay Harry dumb it down for me thenâŠwhat am I wrong about now?â You ask as you turn your head so you can look at him, his jaw is set in a hard line while his eyes turn almost black as they stare into yours and he has a look on his face that should have you cowering away in fear but instead has you unable to move an inch. As if youâre worried that any sudden movements from you will have Harry turning and storming off in a dramatic fit of rage and thatâs the last thing you want to do, hating the thought of him being anywhere but the few feet away from you.
âItâs my genetics that give me a reason to be mean all the time-Iâm the son of a demon who gets pleasure from other peopleâs pain so of course Iâm going to enjoy causing a bit of chaos and the feeling I get is a bit addictive when I know Iâm the reason someone is having the worst day of their already miserable little life.â You turn your body so you can be face to face with him as he goes on about how heâs made to be mean, a look of amusement on his face when he sees your brows pinch together in confusion.
âBut youâre not mean all the time.â Your words have Harry seeing red, not because heâs mad but because as they roll off your tongue he feels his insides start to burn at the idea of you not seeing him for the evil entity that he is and confusing him for someone or something thatâs capable of anything other than causing people pain and misfortune anywhere he goes.
âYou truly are the dumbest human Iâve ever met and thatâs saying a lot because Iâm well acquainted with Niall on the second floor.â
âNiall is nice he-â
âI never said he wasnât nice I just said heâs an idiot.â He states as he glances down at the watch on his wrist. âBoth things can be true at the same time.â He adds matter of factly while you just stare at him, getting distracted by the way his jawline looks in the dim lights on the roof.
âDo you think all humans are idiots?â Harry can tell by the way your voice is soft and breezy sounding that youâre lost in your thoughts and when he looks away form his watch and locks eyes with you he notices your cheeks are flushed a bright pink and your pupils are blown out and he canât help but let out an annoyed sigh as he brings a hand up and snaps a few times in front of your face knocking you out of whatever trance you were in.
âHasnât anyone ever told you itâs rude to stare?â You try to hide your embarrassment while Harry turns to face the door that you just walked out of a few minutes ago. âBut to answer your question-â He looks at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face. âNo I donât think all humans are idiots-just most of them.â He says teasingly but with an edge that lets you know heâs actually not kidding, you watch him take a step towards the door, the crunching sound his boot makes as he steps on the bag of cookies he tossed on the ground makes your mouth drop into a small pout.
âGoodnight Harry.â He doesnât respond or even give you any indication that he heard you, instead he just opens the door and quickly walks through it letting it slam closed behind him as if heâs trying to get as far away from you as quickly as possible.
Meeting Harry almost a month ago wasnât something you planned, you had no clue he was even on the roof when you ran up there to get some air during a small panic attack. The moment you pushed the door open and took in the first deep breath of the crisp nighttime air letting it work its way into your lungs you somehow just knew you werenât alone. When your eyes scanned the dimly lit rooftop Harry was already staring at you from his spot near the edge, his eyes locked on you while his head was tilted to the side and his long hair was half pulled up keeping his face from being hidden. You had never seen someone look so painfully beautiful before, with a jawline that looked like it was carved out of marble and emerald green eyes that seemed as if they could see straight into the deepest darkest parts of you and instead of turning and running away at the intensity of him, you simply took a step closer to him, wanting to be as close to him as possible like his stare was pulling you in instead of pushing you away.
âStupid girl.â Was the first thing he ever said to you, his voice was deep and the harshness of his tone was accentuated by his accent, all of it only added to the appeal of him.
That first night up on the roof he gave you half an hour of his time before he disappeared through the door and went about his business for the night, a business you quickly learned was collecting debts of some sort and making deals with the types of people you would normally avoid. The second night you were just indulging in your curiosity and went up to the roof to see if he was there and when you saw him smoking a cigarette while looking out at the city with his forearms resting on the railing you couldnât even attempt to stop the grin that quickly took over your face. Harry on the other hand couldnât hold back the annoyed sigh that puffed past his lips when he stood up straight and tossed a glare your way over his shoulder but you didnât care, all you cared about was that he was there and he was looking at you. That was the night you learned he goes to the roof every evening, something he would later inform you he deeply regretted telling you because now he canât get rid of you. But it wasnât until the third night that you met him on the roof that you learned the true nature of his being, and although he was annoyed during the whole duration of his explanation you were just enamored by the way his eyes seems to glow in the moonlight.
âIâm a demonâŠmy job is to collect souls of the people who unfortunately made a deal with the wrong devil.â That was the first time you saw him smile, even though it was small and had a glint of something mischievous behind it, the dimples that appeared with it nearly had your knees feeling weak at how perfect it looked taking over his face. âI also make a few deals myself-granting wishes to people who are so desperate that they donât care what it takes as long as they get what they wantâŠbut in the end itâs always only me who gets what he wants.â It was the way he watched you as he spoke, studying your reaction to his job description that had your heart feeling all funny. But when you just merely nodded and asked him if he liked his job sadly the smile and the dimples that came with it faded into a scowl and him mumbling something under his breath about how youâre the dumbest human heâs ever met as he pushed past you to make his usual dramatic exit for the evening.
You never intended to catch feelings for him but with each snarl, dramatic roll of his eyes, insulting words tossed your way about your lack of intelligence and the very rare smile thatâs only ever stitched onto his face for less than an second before falling into a scowl you somehow found yourself looking forward to the time spent on the rooftop with him. It never once occurred to you that it was a bad idea to have a little crush on him because his good looks and quick wit are all things made to draw people in, using them to his advantage to get what he wants out of them but it seems that with you he does almost everything in his power to try to keep you away. Heâs said cruel things to you such as how annoying your voice is, how clingy you are and how every single second he has to spend with you is arguably the worst part of his day because all he wants is some peace and quiet before going out for the night. He even lets it be known how he sees you as nothing more than an overly bubbly and obnoxiously naive nuisance of a human.
The thing is, you just canât seem to care.
You let out a sigh of content as you stand next to Harry, the sky a swirling mixture of darkness and the occasional twinkle of stars that poke through the clouds as they pass by. You donât need to look at him to know his mouth is set in a hard line and the wrinkle between his brows is more prominent due to the way he has them pinched together in both annoyance and confusion as he looks at you. Itâs a look youâve come to know very well because itâs the one he always gives you every time you walk out onto the roof just a few minutes before midnight. A look that lets you know he still doesnât understand why you come up here after all the things heâs said to you and the way heâs treated you, like he has no clue that he makes your heart do back flips and a swarm of butterflies to go off in your tummy every time he looks at you.
âThis is getting a bit ridiculous.â His voice causes you to look over at him with a quirked brow as he turns so heâs facing you while your hands stay gripping the railing.
âYou have to stop coming up here-at least while Iâm up here.â
âYou donât own the rooftop Harry I can come up here whenever I want.â You tell him with a laugh that makes him clench his jaw as he glares at you.
âBut thatâs the thing-you donât come up here when itâs emptyâŠno you only come up here to see me and thatâs not only annoying itâs pathetic.â His voice is steady, his tone flat as if it means absolutely nothing to him to toss such harsh insults your way like this is just another meaningless conversation heâs having with someone of no importance to him.
âI-Iâm not pathetic Iâm-â
âOh but you are.â He snaps, cutting you off. You turn to face him as he runs a hand through his hair letting you see the chunky rings that are snuggly tucked up against his knuckles. Him letting out an annoyed huff has your focus going away from his hands and back up to his face.
âYou come up to this rooftop every single night because you want to see me because the hour or so you spend with me each night is far better than the rest of the hours youâve spent alone in your apartment all day because you have no friends and no social life.â You stare at him as his words chip away at you bit by bit, Harry lets out a sigh as his eyes finally find yours and you can tell by the way the turn almost black that whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to hurt.
âBut what makes you really pathetic is the fact you come up here knowing that I canât stand you-that the minutes we spend together are like torture because you are the most idiotic and frustrating human Iâve ever come across and yet here you are.â He gestures to you as a dark chuckle bubbles up from his chest. âStanding there looking at me as if Iâve hung the fucking moon and all the bloody stars that go with itâŠyou look at me as if you love me and I donât know if thereâs even a word to describe how dumb that is because Iâm not capable of love and even if I was thereâs no way in hell Iâd ever love someone like you.â His voice is harsh as his words cut through the tense atmosphere surrounding the two of you like a knife, he watches your hands clench and unclench at your sides as you let out a deep breath through your nose before blinking a few times and looking down at your feet.
âOkay.â Your voice is soft and quiet as you do your best to keep your composure, refusing to let Harry see how his words have all but broken you completely. He stares at you with a look of pure shock etched on his face, clearly not expecting such an odd reaction from you seeing as usually when he says mean things to you all you do is roll your eyes and move on to asking him a silly question of telling him a random fact.
âOkay? What does that even mean?â He asks with a small hint of frustration in his voice. You clear your throat and put on a small smile before looking up and meeting his gaze. Harry almost flinches at how empty your eyes look, but he hides it and waits for you to explain yourself hoping itâll shine some light on why it feels as if youâre looking through him and not at him.
âIt means you winâŠI mean you said it yourselfâŠin the end you always get what you want.â Harry opens his mouth as if heâs going to say something but closes it as you turn and head for the door. His eyes are glued on the back of you as he watches you, not able to look away until the door slams shut behind you and he can hear your slippers smacking against the metal steps of the stairs, leaving him alone to soak up his peace and quiet.
Five days.
Thatâs how long Harry lasts without seeing you.
The first day starts off relatively normal for him, he sleeps until well past noon and he doesnât even think of you until he hears the unmistakable sound of you walking by his door. Itâs that sound that has him standing in his kitchen, coffee mug in his hand and a scowl on his face while thinking your feet hitting any kind of floor is such an annoying sound that heâs able to pick it out of everyone elseâs that walk by. On day two Harry is hit with the faint smell of your perfume as he walks up the stairs to the roof, it has his tummy doing weird things as he readies himself to see you standing there when he pushes the door open. When he steps out onto the roof the corners of his mouth twitch as he looks around and sees youâre nowhere to be found. An odd feeling takes ahold of him as he looks out at the city, a feeling that maybe just maybe being left alone isnât what he really wanted.
Day three is when he hears your voice for the first time, itâs through his door while heâs sitting on his couch except itâs not the usual âhave a good day Harryâ you shout to him on your way out for the day or even the occasional warning of âdonât forget a jacket Harry! Just because youâre from hell doesnât mean you canât catch a coldâ that usually has him rolling his eyes. This time itâs you saying hello to someone else and the voice that responds to you isnât one Harryâs familiar with at all and before he can even stop himself he is bent down so he can look out his peep hole and the feeling of pure rage that takes over his body makes him nearly rip his door off itâs hinges when he sees youâre talking to some brunette man he doesnât know. Now normally Harry couldnât care less who you talk to, heâd be happy to have someone else take up your time so you can stop bothering him but seeing the smile thatâs on your face and knowing itâs directed at some mystery man just doesnât sit right with him at all.
The fourth day is when Harry starts to truly come undone but in a way thatâs more like a pot slowly boiling over, the bubbles cascading down the side causing an unpleasant hissing noise as they hit the burner. That hissing noise is how he would describe his inner thoughts as he paces his living room trying to come up with a rational explanation as to why you smiling at someone has him ready to send some man he doesnât even know down to the depths of hell for the rest of eternity. Not that he can even do that seeing as thereâs levels to the power each demon has and Harry isnât anywhere near the level that can actually send someone to hell.
The fourth day is also the day that Harry discovers the painful ache in his chest isnât because of the weird leftovers he ate two days ago, itâs because some part of him, his heart to be specific is longing for something or someone. Itâs a pain he hasnât ever felt before and it has him ready to reach inside himself and yank the useless organ out of his chest and toss it out the window because he has no real use for it, or at least thatâs what he thinks until heâs standing outside on the roof and sees you walking towards the apartment building. Itâs in that moment that the ache in his chest starts to fade as soon as his eyes land on you that has him coming to a startling realization, itâs you his heart has been longing for. The one that causes him to feel as if heâs slowly losing his mind just because he hasnât gotten to see you or properly hear your voice in a few days. But more importantly the one he pushed away and the one he thinks he might be in love with.
Day five is the one that changes everything.
Harry is walking out of his apartment on the fourth floor when he hears the irritating sound of Niall Horanâs voice. Harry knows he lives on the second floor so heâs not really sure what heâs doing up here unless itâs to see someone and the only other person on this floor thatâs even remotely the same age as him would be you. As Harry turns around to face the blue eyed Irishman he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up just as a man walks by and offers a cheerful hello to Niall.
âShawn mate sâgood to see ya!â Harryâs eyes narrow into a hard glare as he watches the tall brunette man give Niall a hug, itâs not until Shawn turns to the side that Harry recognizes him.
âWho the fuck are you?â The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them making both Niall and Shawn turn to look at Harry with raised brows.
âUhm Iâm Shawn who-â
âDo you live here?â Harry asks cutting him off, Niall looks away from Harry and over at Shawn who looks extremely uncomfortable, a typical response when Harryâs dark eyes are staring straight into someone elseâs.
âN-no I donât live here I just-â
âHeâs just hanging out with our friend in 4C.â Niall finishes for him making Harryâs hands clench into fists at the mention of your apartment number. Harry doesnât know what takes over him as he walks over and grabs a fistful of Shawnâs shirt and slams him against the wall making Niallâs eyes go wide in shock.
âNot anymore youâre not. Youâre never going to come back here again and if I so much as catch a whiff of your tacky smelling cologne youâre a dead man. Got that?â Niall places his hands on top of Harryâs shoulders as he practically growls his way through the threat, Shawnâs brown eyes go wide with fear and the silent understanding that the man in front of him staring at him with pitch black eyes isnât kidding. Harry takes his little nod as a yes and releases his hold on his shirt, letting him make his way to the stairs nearly tripping over himself in the process. Niall is staring at Harry with a very knowing look on his face as Harry runs a hand through his hair.
âOh youâre down bad.â
âWhat are you blabbering on about?â
â4CâŠyou like her huh? Thatâs why you went all crazy on poor Shawn.â
âFuck off Niall I donât have time-â
âHavenât seen her hanging around the roof latelyâŠyou two in a fight or something?â
âNo.â Harry snaps as he pulls his hair into a messy bun before heading for the stairs that go up to the roof.
âShe likes carnations if you need ideas on how to apologize to her for whatever dumb shit you said thatâs making her avoid the roof like the plague.â Harry turns on his heels, Niall just watches as he stalks over to him.
âYou think I donât know which flowers she likes? As if I havenât memorized every little detail about her?â Niallâs cheeks get red as Harry glares down at him. âI can tell by the way she unlocks her front door if sheâs having a bad day or not. I know the way her laugh sounds from down the hall and can tell if itâs fake or genuine and when sheâs around you itâs usually fake. I could spot her in an overcrowded room by her smile alone.â Harry lets out a sarcastic chuckle as he takes a step backwards. âSo no Niall I do not need ideas on how to apologize.â With that Harry turns and heads for the stairs but he doesnât even hit the first step before he hears Niallâs voice.
âSo you are going to apologize then?â And that has Harry letting out a frustrated huff as he walks up the short staircase and pushes the door open letting the loud slam of it closing behind him to serve as an answer to Niallâs question.
Harry closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath feeling himself start to calm down as he lets it out slowly through his nose. He repeats that process two more times, opening his eyes when he feels his urge to go and find that Shawn fellow out on the street and get rid of him for good so he canât ever try to attempt to see you again turn into a low simmer deep inside his chest instead of the raging boil it was just a few moments ago. He taps his back pocket and lets out an annoyed groan when he doesnât feel his pack of cigarettes that he usually keeps there along with his lighter.
âFuck.â He snaps as he starts pacing the length of the roof, he drags a hand over his face in frustration. âStupid fucking Niall asking if Iâm going to apologize-apologize for what?â He asks himself as he pauses and look over his shoulder at the soft glow of the city lights in the distance.
âAll I said was the truthâŠsheâs insufferable with her silly laugh and annoying smile and the way sheâs always asking questions andâŠ.and-â Harryâs words get stuck in his throat as his eyes glance towards the spot near the railing that might as well have your name etched in the concrete due to how often you stand there every time you come see him. âAnd IâŠI love her.â He barely gets the words out before heâs rushing towards the door, skipping every other step getting down the stairs in record time.
He doesnât even allow himself time to catch his breath or fix his disheveled appearance, he just reaches a hand up and bangs his knuckles on your door three times. His hands grip the frame as he leans in to press his ear against it, trying to listen for the sound of your feet shuffling towards the door. His brows pinch together when all he can hear is the faint swirling of the small space heater you told him you bought for your living room because your feet are always cold. Heâs about to knock a few more times when suddenly the lock turns and youâre swinging the door open.
âSomeone better be dying for you to bang on my-Harry?â The sleepy tone of your voice is quickly replaced with one of surprise as your eyes find his. Harry doesnât say anything for a moment, he just stands there with his hands on your doorframe staring at you as if you were a precious work of art. âW-what are you doing here?â Your voice is shaky as you take a small step backwards to create some space between the two of you.
âI lied.â You raise a brow at him as he drops his hands to his sides and takes a small step into your apartment, kicking the door closed with his foot behind him. You swallow down the nerves that are building up in your chest.
âLied about what?â
âEverything.â He says quickly and before you can register whatâs happening Harry lets out a loud sigh and falls to his knees right in front of you. âI am capable of loveâŠand I only know that because I-I love you and Iâm the pathetic one because it took me hurting you and pushing you away to realize it.â His voice is shaky as he reaches out and grabs your hands as you stare down at him with a look of confusion and shock on your face.
âHarry you donât mean that youâre just-â
âOh but I do.â His eyes lock with yours as he brings your hands up to his lips, placing kisses to your knuckles. âAnd Iâm so sorry I was so cruel to you and I would understand it completely if you told me to leave but I just need you to know that I didnât mean any of it.â His hands place yours over his chest making your cheeks get hot as you feel the soft material of his shirt under your fingertips. âEvery minute youâre away from me is the real torture because then it just leaves me with the reminders of you that are everywhere it seems-like I couldnât escape you even if I wanted to.â He lets go of your wrists so he can reach out and place his hands on your hips, gently urging you closer to him while your hands move to grip the tops of his shoulders.
âI-uhm I donât understand? I thought you hated me.â You tell him softly, Harry lets out a soft groan as he rests his forehead on your lower tummy, trying to think of the words he needs to say for you to believe him, that he really does care about you.
âI could never hate you.â He admits as he looks up at you. âI know Iâm not good enough for you so I was mean and hoped it would keep you away because-Iâm never going to be the good guy that can sweep you off your feet and ride you off into the sunsetâŠIâm inherently evil and I know that you can do so much better than me but-â Harry pauses when you place a hand on the side of his face making him close his eyes briefly as he leans into the warmth of your touch.
âIâm selfish and donât want to have to go through the agony of watching you be with someone elseâŠI would rather burn in the pits of hell than have to endure thatâŠplease tell me youâll forgive me? That youâll let me earn a spot in your heart again.â He speaks in a softer tone than youâve ever heard him speak before and his eyes are all but pleading with you to believe him and to accept his apology.
âYou reallyâŠ.you really love me?â Your voice is barley above a whisper as you stare into Harryâs bright emerald colored eyes and for the first time you watch a smile spread across his face, one that has no hint of mischief or teasing behind it but one that shows off his dimples and makes the hard edges of his face soften ever so slightly.
âI do-so incredibly much itâs a bit infuriating if Iâm being honest.â He answers as he stands up, making your hand slide off his cheek and down to his chest.
âI love you too Har-â Harryâs lips are crashing into yours before you can finish saying his name, his hands cup the sides of your face tilting it upward allowing him to deepen the kiss as he slowly starts to walk you backward. He doesnât need to be given a tour to know his way around your house, since itâs the same layout as his.
âI missed you.â He mumbles as he kisses down your jaw as the back of your knees hit the armrest of your couch. âMissed your voice.â You let out a little noise that goes straight to Harryâs cock as his lips kiss down the side of your neck. âMissed your laugh.â He says between kisses over the soft skin of your throat, his hands travel down your sides until heâs sliding one under the hem of your oversized sweatshirt that has a ghost with a cowboy hat on it that says âlets ghoul girlsâ in pink writing across your chest.
âYou-you donât think my laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard?â Harry lets out a laugh as he pulls away just enough so he can look at you.
âNo love-it sounds like what I like to think my version of Heaven would sound like if they ever decide to let me in⊠itâs sweetâŠbubbly and bright.â He tells you sweetly before his lips are once again on yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down closer to you making him smile against your lips as he moves his hands to your hips letting them glide down to the back of your thighs and in one swift motion he pick you up making you let out a squeak of surprise while wrapping your legs around his middle causing your pink fuzzy slippers to fall off.
âOh no! My slippers!â
âThose things are hideous and the sound they make when you walk is loud enough to wake the dead.â
âThatâs rudeâŠjust please donât drop me.â
âNever.â He states with a smile as he walks down the your bedroom is on, being the room that shares a wall with his living room giving him the privilege of being able to hear you talking to yourself when you think no one is listening.
His eyes never leave yours as he gently places you down on the soft comforter covering your bed, your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as his hands run up and down the outside of your thighs as he stands between them, he kicks his shoes off making them land on the floor with a thud. As Harry looks at you he feels as if everything suddenly makes sense, like he understands now that didnât randomly pick this city because the lack of competition in the demon department, no he picked this city because deep down whatâs left of his soul knew this is where he needed to be and thatâs wherever you are. He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side as his eyes break away from yours and slowly roam down your body stopping when he gets to the hem of your bike shorts.
âNormally Iâd say you need more clothes on but honestly right now I think you have way too many layers on.â He jokes gently, not wanting to push his teasing too far and make you upset since just yesterday you sat on this very same bed and told yourself the demon next door hated you.
âI keep it warm in my apartment because Iâm always-â
âCold.â He answers for you making you just nod as his hands slide up your sides until they find the waistband of your shorts. âI know you better than you think I do.â He watches your face for any signs of hesitation as he slips his thumbs under the band and starts to gently tug them down, you swallow thickly and lift your hips a bit to help him and this has Harry grinning down at you as he tosses them to the side of your room.
âI-I never knew you were actually paying attention to me when-when I spoke.â Your words has a pang of guilt hit Harry right in the chest.
âIf you only knew the way I hung off every single word you ever said to me because I was always afraid theyâd be the last ones Iâd get to hear come from that pretty little mouth of yours.â He tells you as he leans down, his hands on either side of your face. âI was so scared that eventually youâd realize how horrible I am and stop showing up.â He explains before placing a kiss to your forehead.
âHarry why didnât you tell me you felt like this?â
âI think itâs safe to say by now that Iâm an idiot-not only for how I treated you but for not telling you how I felt the moment I felt it.â He says with a breathy laugh as he stands up, your eyes go wide when he reaches down and grabs the bottom of his shirt pulling it over his head so he can throw it on top of your shorts.
Harry has to hold back a little chuckle as your mouth falls open while your eyes take in the view of him shirtless for the very first time, his muscles and swirls of dark ink scattered across his skin make your heart start to beat faster and your hands struggling to remain at your sides and not reach out and touch him to make sure heâs real. You sit up and as gracefully as possible given how shaky your hands are take your sweatshirt off revealing to Harry you decided to skip the bra tonight as you add the garment to the growing pile of clothes on your floor.
âCan I take these off?â Youâre nodding your head yes just as his fingers slip into the silky material of your panties. âYouâre so pretty baby.â He says with a soft sigh as he slides the material down your legs, his eyes taking in the newly revealed parts of your flesh heâs never gotten the honor of seeing before.
âYou-youâre pretty too.â Your voice is timid making him smile as his eyes find yours, the moment they do you feel all your worries and sudden embarrassment fade away.
âYeah? You think Iâm pretty?â He asks smugly as he grabs one of your hands and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist. âI love you.â You smile as the words effortlessly fall out of his mouth.
âI love you too.â Harry feels his heart swell as the sound of your pretty voice tells him the words he didnât even know heâd been longing to hear. As his eyes stay locked with yours his hands begin messing with his belt buckle and then quickly unbutton his jeans so he can push them down his legs and kick them off along with his boxers.
âFuck baby youâve been hiding all this from me under those ugly sweatshirts and leggings?â The way his eyes leave a burning trail as they roam up your body has you not even able to be upset at him insulting your sweatshirt collection.
You bite into your bottom lip as Harry leans down and presses his lips to your lower tummy, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake as he kisses his way up to your chest. You watch his eyes darken as they stare into yours as he hovers over you, a smile appears on his face as your hands reach up and cup his face. He watches your face as your fingers trace over the bridge of his nose and ghost over his cheekbones, he kisses the pad of your thumb when you drag it across his bottom lip making you let out a laugh.
âIâve dreamed of this.â You confess quietly. âOf getting to know how soft you are and-and what youâd look like smiling at me like youâre happy and not because youâre about to tell me how annoying or dumb I am.â Harry knows you donât mean to hurt him with your words, but each one cuts him deeper than the last hearing how youâve dreamed of something as simple as his smile all because he never once gave you a genuine one.
âIâm sorry loveâŠyou didnât deserve that.â You close your eyes as he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. âIâm going to be better-going to give you what you deserve.â He promises as he kisses the tip of your nose making you giggle as his lips move to your cheeks giving them little pecks.
âI believe you Harry.â His lips are pressing into yours in a hungry kiss as soon as the words leave your mouth. Your hands grab the sides of Harryâs face pulling him closer as he slips his tongue past your lips, you let out a soft moan when he gives you a small roll of his hips letting you feel the tip of his cock press against your center.
âNeed to feel you baby please let me feel you.â His words are rushed as his lips travel down your jaw to your neck.
He lets out a loud groan when you hike a leg over his hip as your hands slide into his hair pulling his hair tie out and tossing it to the floor so you can run your hands through it, giving it a tug when he starts nipping and sucking at the spot below your ear. You let out a gasp when you feel him push his thick shaft into your wetness, your eyes close and your grip in his hair tightens as you adjust to his size while he slowly pushes all the way in. His lips are back on yours, swallowing down your moans as he pulls out to the tip just to push back in with one smooth thrust of his hips.
âIâve dreamed of this-getting to feel you like this. You feel so fucking good baby.â Harry says with a moan as he pulls away so he can watch your face, your eye open and a soft moan falls from your parted lips as your hands drop from his hair down to your sides so you can grip the sheets as his hips find a steady pace. âMy pretty girl taking me so well.â He praises as he gives you a harsh thrust that has the tip of his cock hitting a spot that has you arching into him.
âOh god.â Harry gets a smug smile on his face as he feels you start to pulse around him. âYou-itâs so good.â Your voice is breathy as Harry keeps up his quick and steady pace, he lets out a deep growl when one of your hands claws at his back at a particularly deep thrust.
âShit baby youâre squeezing me so fucking good-want you to let go for me.â His lips are next to your ear as he leans down, you let out a loud moan of his name when you bend your other knee and spread your legs wider letting him get deeper with each thrust. âMake a mess pretty girl-need to feel you soak my cock baby please.â The desperation in his voice mixed with the harsh thrusts of his hips has you tipping over the edge and all but crying out his name as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave.
âThatâs it baby there you go-fuck youâre so perfect.â He coos sweetly in your ear as he gently fucks you through your high, chasing his own in the process. He lets out a deep moan when your hands go into his hair giving him a tug at his roots.
âDonât-donât stop Harry-please donât stop.â You plead as his thrusts turn sloppy, he lets out a muffled groan as his lips find your jaw. He eyes close and he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he gives you a few harsh thrusts until heâs letting out a chant of your name mixed with a few curse words as you feel the warmth of his release coat your walls.
âSo good baby you did so good.â You have a smile on your face when he pulls away from the comfort of your neck with flushed cheeks and dark eyes. âI love you-so fucking much.â He pants with a lopsided smile on his face as he looks down at you.
âI love you too.â You answer with a sigh as your arms fall to your sides making Harry chuckle at how content you look. âWill you stay the night with me?â You ask suddenly feeling your nerves begin to creep back up into your chest. Harry just rolls his eyes before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours in a quick kiss before he rolls over so heâs on his back next to you.
âOf course I will-honestly good luck getting rid of me now baby.â You let out a giggle as he pulls you into his side letting you rest your head on his chest. âAlso you wonât be seeing that fucking asshole Shawn ever again.â
âWhat? Heâs just-â
âHeâs just an overly friendly twat is what he is and you wonât be seeing him again.â
âHarry.â He raises an eyebrow at you as you turn onto your stomach so you can rest your chin on his chest letting you look into his eyes. âDid you uhm- did you likeâŠtake his soul or something?â Harry lets out a loud laugh that makes your whole bed feel as if itâs vibrating.
âNo I didnât take his soul I just did the normal human thing and threatened him thatâs all.â He explains making you let out a sigh of relief. âCan I ask you something?â You just give him a small nod as he reaches over and grabs a throw blanket and covers the two of you up, not wanting you to get cold. âDo you forgive me?â
âYes.â You tell him with a smile that makes a dimpled grin take over his face as his hand runs up and down your back.
âYouâre mine now right?â
âNo I think itâs more like youâre mine?â You joke making him laugh as he runs his free hand through his hair.
âSounds good to me.â He answers with a shrug as you get comfortable in his arms.
âNow I have a question.â
âOkayâŠletâs hear it.â
âDid you really not like my cookies?â
âI loved them-remember when I said I lied about everything? I really meant everything.â
âOh thank god because I swear that was my best batch yet.â Harry lets out a laugh as you let out a deep sigh of relief and in this moment as you rest your cheek against his chest he gets a feeling that this is exactly where heâs meant to be, he closes his eyes and lets himself bask in the warmth of your embrace and the love that comes with it. He takes a second to promise himself that he will never do anything thatâll risk him losing this feeling because he never wants to spend another midnight alone again.
Summary: "Every soul in the room jumped at his commandâevery soul except yours."
A/N: Just a heads up...this story is about to get really horny you've been warned. This chapter will be the door opening!! (Taglist Open!!)
Word Count: 6.4k
Warning: None.
It had been four days since he rushed from your room, taking with him the finest print of the moth your mind could summon. When he departed the following morning, you lingered at the bay window, watching his carriage leave, and as the footman opened the door, a strange, aching dread tightened your throat. Every movement you observedâthe command in his posture, the relentless rain pouring down in sheets, soaking everyoneâseemed only to emphasize the almost impossible journey he was about to undertake. Just as he was about to step into the carriage, you softly whispered the word âplease,â the word a faint sound trembling on the edge of your breath.
To your astonishment, you observed him utterly absorbed as he paused, his head tilting to the side as if he had caught the faint whisper of your quiet plea, as if he could sense the pounding of your harrowing heart across the vast lawn. For a fleeting moment, you almost wished for him to turn toward the window and grant you one final glance; yet, in your hesitation, he movedâvanishing into the carriage, and amplifying the ache of his departureâknowing full well he would brave the harshest elements to place distance between you. What mistake had you committed? Why did the image of a meek moth evoke such visceral revulsion, when he had just uttered wordsâwords that kindled within you a towering hope for a future where you might be more than a wifeâperhaps, dare you say, even a partner?
Because if you had not witnessed his leave, you might have thought it but a mere dreamâwords spoken with such pure intent that no question arose within you in that moment. The only answer you sought was that your bodies moved as one, husband and wife forming a union under the watchful eyes of Godâa righteous duty which he, too, seemed eager to uphold.
Yet, as the days moved slowly, one sedentary day after another, every query you imagined had been sufficient was swallowed by a new breed of questions that seemed equally distant and unfathomable, much like his presence felt within the space surrounding you. Should it appear strange that, on the very night of his departure, the dreams of torment ceased to come? Or that the sun had yet to shine brightly in the sky, not a single day since your arrival, for to gaze upon the ocean was like holding up a mirror; every stir of emotion was as severe as the tide crashing against the rocks of the shorelineâthe dismal grey sky a gloomy longing, awaiting the sunâs bright light to pierce the thick clouds of confusion, to end the chaos that had entrapped you the moment you uttered the words âI do.â
For nearly a week, your evenings had been spent gazing out at the night sky, aching for a blanket of stars, yet all your longing heart was met with was the shrouded veil of darkness as the rain prevailed. As you reflected the final lines of your thoughts in your journal, you released a knowing curiosity that had been stirring from the moment your gaze met Harryâsâa deep, wild sense that the life you were meant to live was only just beginning to wake inside you as the memory of his eyes and the unsettling red flash, became a quiet understanding in your heart. Perhaps he was a creature, but even you yourself felt like a creature, so far from the woman you had been when you stepped past the threshold of your new home. You knew these strange happenings were not things you could dismiss as âanxiety,â as Agnus had suggested. No, these were facts requiring an explanation you simply hadnât possessed the language for, at least not in this moment. Just then, a low, gentle knock on the door broke your concentration as Agnus entered, her movements a quiet sigh of relief after a long day of service.
âAre ye ready for bed now, maâam? Iâm settinâ out yer fresh nightgown and turninâ down the covers.â
At the sound of her voice, you closed your journal swiftly, the leather-bound cover cool beneath your fingertips. âYes, Agnus, thank you.â And you paused, your gaze lifting to her weary face. âPlease, do tell me, Agnus, has there been any word from my husband, Mr. Styles?â
Evading the news you knew was coming, Agnus busied herself with the bed linen, avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a long-serving maid who knew exactly how to dodge a question when needed. When finally she spoke, she said, âNo direct word, maâam, not a telegram, but we know his journey began safely. Iâm sure heâs about his business, as he must be.â She sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. I promise you, maâam, that the moment I hear anything at all, you'll be the first to know, indeed. Now, darlinâ, try to rest your mind, and let me help you get ready for bed.
When Agnus finally left for the night, the sudden silence was no longer heavy with apprehension, but rich with a strange, blossoming energy. Without the nightly torment of the dreams, you were less exhausted, your mind operating with a keen, rousing clarity. You had been using your nights to write and draw, your pencil moving with a determined urgency, thrillingly translating the chaos of the past nearly two weeks into quiet lines on paper.
It was as if your mind, no longer battling an unseen force in your sleep, had shed a protective veil. Your memoriesâusually a dense terrain of scattered thoughtsâwere now startlingly clear. You realized after days of conjuring the inked moth, that just by simply closing your eyes, you could step back into time, or so it felt, like you could walk through the spaces of your pastâthe scent, the light, all the muted words that had ever been spoken left to turn to ash were all retrievable. Each one was like sorting through old letters, every detail down to the very conversation, every room you had ever known, seemed to exist in a perfect, vivid landscape within your mindâs eye.
Yet the more you tried to dig deeper into your past, the more you noticed a strange and frustrating resistance, as if any memories preceding the onset of your womanhood were cocooned in an impenetrable, dark fog of mysteryâall time before your first bloods was a blank wall, while the time after was a crystal stream, suggesting a pivotal shift, perhaps, one you hadnât even noticed that seemed now both key to something lost within you and terrifyingly subtle in the way you had missed it.
But the strangest sensation, however, was reserved for Harry, and Harry alone, because in the moments you allowed your mind to linger on him, a gripping ache bloomed deep in your wombânot the familiar cramping pain of your recent courses, but a dull, insistent tremor in the boom of your belly, a feeling nearly as deep and magnetically familiar as the longing that ached in your bones for a man you truly knew nothing ofâthe feeling a physical, undeniable response to the man who had abandoned you, a silent pulse stirring that throbbed with the knowledge of a resounding, unseen thread that seemed to be connecting your core to his very presence, and even if this were not a fact, your spine tingled with it, your fingers twitching to write the words on paper, solidifying their realness in your mind.Â
And the more you dwelled on this knowledge, the relentless, unspoken draw became a compass for your nightly activities as your mind wandered the halls as you lay in bed, and when your body could no longer bear the stillness of your room. You rose, your mind and body driven by an overwhelming intuition you couldnât quite rationalize, and you began to sneak down the hallway to Harryâs private study. The room, now unoccupied, seemed to call out to you, a chilled, cultivating beacon of his essential being, daring you to enter.
That night, you crept through the dark house, your bare feet silent on the marble floors, the thrill became the illicit journey, a blunt, electric antidote to the humiliation you had suffered the moment Harry rushed from your room. When you slipped into the study, the lingering scent of Harry hit your senses with a brutal awareness that had your head spinning with an unforeseen longing you hadnât spoken aloud, and as the smell of leather and earthly spices filled your nose, your knees weakened. It was like you had known it your whole life, could close your eyes, and the staggering sense of his presence was there, almost intoxicating, as if you could reach out and touch him, giving you a strange, humming focus that stole the very breath from your lungs.
Overwhelmed, you took a seat in his enormous, wingback desk chair, the leather cold and stiff beneath you, yet strong and firm, like you would imagine the engulfing spans of his arms, and you dared not move. Instead, you allowed your curiosity to roam, losing track of time as you explored and memorized the sweeping scroll of his signature across documents you read inch for inch, your head spinning anew, and each time you finished a page, there was Harryâs name, and each time you repeated, Harry, the syllables became a quiet, rhythmic mantra that whispered through your mind like an echo from the past. As your mind grew tired of reading, your fingertips began to tingle with a desperate, instinctive need to translate your focus, and when you finally crept back to your room, with Harryâs pen in hand, you brought it to your nose, inhaling what was left of his scent, and then you covered a sheet of paper with the swirling, intricate lines of his name, your belly trembling with that familiar, dull ache.Â
The next night, as his scent enveloped you like a glove, a chill ran over your skin, and suddenly, the books seemed to demand your attention. Your ears perked up the further you walked into the study, as a low, chanting whisper began to emanate from the dark, recessed shelvesâa heavy murmuring reverberating around you that seemed to press directly on your mind the more you focused on it. In the stir of your belly, you knew no human ear could register this sound, yet something in you felt the sheer pressure of the knowledge contained within. As you approached the darkest section, the whispers grew louderâa howl so insistent, so terrifyingly non-human in its authority that you didnât know if you should fear it or follow its command. Maybe it was your heartbeat pounding in your ear, but you swore you saw a section move, and when the noise filled the space, you fled the room, your heart striking a frantic rhythm against your palm as you slammed the door behind you, your body trembling as you paced down the corridor to your room.
With barely any sleep, the next day, as you woke to the dark gloom of another rainy morning, the unsettling experience became a quiet obsession, playing through your mind as you wandered the vast, chilly house, unable to focus. Eventually, you found refuge in the abandoned greenhouse attached to the home, which you had grown very fond of over the past week. It was the only place where you seemed able to escape the confines of your own mindâthe only place where you could let your guard down. The humid air, rich with the scent of damp earth and abandonment, guided you away from the cold granite of the house. Like a newfound ritual, you strolled through the greenhouse, absentmindedly touching the dry, brittle leaves of the neglected plants. The more time that you spent with the plants, the more the soothing certainty of your curiosity seemed to tingle to the tips of your fingers, becoming a quiet sense you hadnât realized you possessed. It was as if you understood the needs of the nature around you, knowing exactly what each plant required.
It grew instinctive; day by day, your hands reached for tools you had never used, working with a natural, unhesitating knowledge over each plant. As you tended to the neglected onesâeach nurturing action seemed to flow into your consciousnessâyour mouth hummed a faint whisper of words that bloomed in your mind, so pure and honest that you knew them to be true. As if they were a fundamental language you had forgotten you spoke. It felt more natural, more genuine, than any polite conversation you had ever had to endure.
That night, when the house had finally fallen silent, armed with a calm confidence from your work in the greenhouse, you gathered the courage to return to the study. This time, when the books called out, you allowed the unbearable resonance to guide you, accepting the pressure over your mind, not as a threat but as your curiosity demanding a challenge of will. Pushing your fear aside, you followed the low, humming murmur until you reached the hollow shelf and jumped when the books began to shake. Your eyes landed on a thick black bookâthe leather edge dried and cracked, and as your hand finally rested on the cold binding, a sudden vibration shot through your entire body, as the familiar ache in your womb worsened, doubling you over. The pain was so intense, so tied to the object in your hand, that you cried out, clutching your stomach, dropping the heavy book to the floor with a loud thud, as you fumbled back, searching for stability as the blinding pain overtook you.
Breath after heavy breath, you finally regained some composure, your hand trembling as you leaned heavily on the desk. Your dizzy gaze shifted to the dark, leather-bound relic, reading the dense title that seemed to confirm the terrifying quest to retrieve it: The Nocturnal Doctrine of the Serpentâs Shadow. As you pushed yourself up, you reread the title, feeling the ominous words run through you, and you sensed the danger lurking within without even opening the book. Its presence was like a whip cracking through your chest, speeding your heartbeat, and lashing your senses.Â
As if you couldnât last another minute in the study, you gasped for air and snatched the book up, not daring to open it or even examine the cover any further, as the need to possess it overwhelmed every muscle in your aching body, and every instinct within you urged you to flee. You hurried back to your room, your heart hammering not with fear but with the exhilaration of a secret too enormous to keep. You shoved the forbidden book under your mattress, hiding it alongside the other Moth sketches and markings you hastily drew from memory just days before, now determined to forget the book ever existed. Right now, you only knew you were meant to have it; you knew it wasnât the time to read it.Â
After another dreamless night, you woke to a startling silence so serene it felt like waking in a dream. When you opened your eyes, the room was bathed in a blinding, silver-white light as the sun broke through the lace curtains, bringing with it a new hopeâsilence and light had returned. The storm had passed, bringing forth the sun and all its glory, shining for the first time since you arrived in Newport. When you were called for breakfast, you walked down the stairs, drinking in the light as it streamed through the large windows lining the hall. You soaked it in as the sudden warmth of the light stirred that strange, new energy that seemed to be flowing through your veins all week.Â
As your foot hit the first step, a drumming began in your ears, and you listened to the thunder of your heartâthe thrill pounding like a steady drum, like a call you had heard many times before. The sound grew louder as you neared the dining hall, beating so loudly you wondered if the staff could hear. Still, as they carried on around you, not paying any mind to you, the sound grew more piercing, quickening until you paused dead in your tracks, eyes widening at the figure sitting at the head of the long, carved table, impeccably dressed in dark wool, and just as his eyes met yours the beating, rhythm of the drums ceased all at once.
Because there was Harry, his green eyes holding you in place, and you stood mesmerized in the doorway, taking each other in as the slow, low drumming started pounding in your ears again. Still, this time it was different, no longer the frantic beat of your heart, but indeed a callingâa powerful, soul-deep thrumming that felt like the earth waking under your feet, pulsing a silent, echoing chant that felt like the wind pushing you toward the man you called your husband. This time it wasnât the music of fear, like it had been in your nightmare; it was the magnetic pulse of something you knew inside you, like an unseen tether finally drawing taut.Â
And as you glided into the room, moving with an elegance born from a resounding weariness to draw any closer and a will to harness a quiet control, you settled into the chair across from him. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, and in that moment, you promised yourself you would not let him see the ache or the longing you endured; he would know the strength you had felt swelling, the power of self that you were more certain of than ever before, for when he spoke the words of his intentions into your mind that night, he filled you with a power you had been waiting for your entire life.Â
âYou look well,â were the first words that left his mouth, as your plates were presented in front of you, but you didnât say a word, only nodded your approval to the waitstaff, as you straightened your posture, ready for Harry to ache with the silence you had weathered for days.Â
Only silence filled the space between you both. A silence unlike anything Harry had ever experienced in his entire life, rendering him powerless, or what felt powerless. This silence itself was altogether something devastating and hopelessâa void opening up inside him where your thoughts should have been, your mind a mystifying wall that left him more isolated than any prison he had constructed around his demonic natureâto his one true self, he hid from the world.
Completely unbothered by his existence, you sat across from him, delicately cutting into your poached egg with a casual grace that seemed almost to mock him in its normalcy, as if his world hadnât shifted the moment you entered the dining hall, as the morning light streaming through the tall windows caught in your hair, creating a halo effect that would have been laughable if it werenât so cruelly fittingâyou, the unreachable angel, and he, the demon desperately clawing at the gates of heaven.
Harry watched as you brought the fork to your perfect lips, the simple act becoming a form of exquisite torture. How could you sit there, consuming your breakfast with such apparent tranquility, while he fought every instinct screaming within him? Fighting the demon beneath his skin that writhed and pulsed, demanding he breach the distance between you, demanding he take what now felt more than ever to be promised to you both. But it was the silenceâthat damnable, suffocating silenceâthat threatened to undo him entirely.
When he tried to press deeper with his inner perception, that cursed gift that had always allowed him to slip past the mental barriers of every human he had ever encountered, he listened to the noise of thoughts around him as the servants bustled quietly around you both, broadcasting their thoughts like beacon fires: âThe master seems agitated this morning,â from the footman; âPoor lamb, she deserves better than this cold marriage,â from the serving girl; even AgnusâŠsweet, sweet Agnus stood sentinel by the door, projecting her fierce maternal protectiveness toward you with crystal clear clarity.
But youâyou remained a fortress of nothingness.
The scene unfolding around him only seemed to set the first burning within him as Harryâs fingers tightened around his silver fork until he felt the metal begin to bend. How was it possible? He could sense the very essence of your soul, that intoxicating energy that had nearly shattered his control from the moment he had touched your hand, yet your thoughts remained cocooned in an impassable fog. It was as if something more powerful than himself guarded the sanctity of your mind, something that recognized the demon and barred the door.
The longer the silence stretched, the more it became a living thing between you, growing teeth and claws that raked across his consciousnessâan agony he could barely contain. You reached for your teacup, the fragile china meeting your lips in another moment of devastating normality, and it was just enough to have Harryâs Shrouded form flickering at the godforsaken edges, forcing a tremor to the tips of his fingers as he felt the onset of throbbing along his hairline, his small horns aching with the effort to remain hidden, the demonic markings beneath his shirt burning like brands against his skin.
In desperate focus, he attempted once more to penetrate the barrier of your mind, pushing with a force that would have sent most humans reeling. Yet you merely dabbed at your lips with your napkin, your expression as serene as the fairest Madonna, giving no indication you felt not a single ounce of his psychic assault. The failure of it, the complete and utter inability to reach you, sent a spike inching through his chest, inching toward the dangerous edge of panic.
When you set down your teacup with a gentle clink against the saucerâa sound that might as well have been a gunshot ringing through the stifling quietâHarry could stand it no longer.
âLeave us,â he barked, standing to his feet, his voice carrying a demonic edge that had every servant in the room freezing mid-motionâdishes rattling, as a serving spoon clattered to the floor, and the footman stumbled back a step, bumping into the wall behind him.
Every soul in the room jumped at his commandâevery soul except yours.
You merely lifted your gaze to meet his, those analytical eyes studying him with the same startling intensity that had first captured him across the ballroom floor. There was no fear there, no surprise, just that quiet observation that made him feel more exposed than if he were standing before you in his truest form, horns and markings and all.
The servants fled like water through a sieve, Agnus casting one last worried glance at you before pulling the heavy doors shut with a definitive thud. The sound echoed through the cavernous dining hall as Harry took his seat, sealing you both in together, predator and preyâthough Harry was no longer certain which role belonged to whom.
âIâm sorry,â Harry said, his voice rough as he tried to conceal his barely controlled desperation, âbut I cannot sit in this silence any longer.â
Your head tilted slightly, a gesture so subtle yet somehow more commanding than the stunt he had just pulled to command even a sliver of power back to himself. âThere is no silence,â you replied, your words carrying that quiet strength that seemed to emanate from your very core.
âI cannot hearââ Harry caught himself just before the damning confession could spill forth, his jaw clenching as he redirected, âAre you angry with me?â
âShould I be angry?â And yet the question was posed with such genuine curiosity that it sent another wave of frustration through himâthe simplicity of your words like lashes across his skin.Â
âItâs just...â he struggled, searching for words that wouldnât betray the unearthly perception he wielded, âItâs just that itâs so quiet.â
And as if his cryptic words meant nothing, you set down your fork with that same graceful ease, folding your hands in your lap as you regarded him. âForgive me, but Iâm not quite sure of your meaning.â
âEverything. about. you. is quiet,â Harry ground out, feeling the demon surge beneath his skin, his control fraying like rope against sharp stone. âI canâtââ
Harry bit back the rest of his words as the frustration, the need, the unbearable pressure of your unreachable presence finally shattered his restraint, and with a devastating force, his fist came down on the table with the sole intention of fear, sending the china jumping and crystal singing as the sound cracked through the air like thunder, and this timeâfinallyâyou jumped.
When you brought your napkin up to your mouth, eyes cast down at your plate, Harry caught the slight tremor as he watched the slow release of your controlled breath deflate your chest, yet your perfect posture didnât waver, and this seemed to stem more fear than he had just momentarily inflicted, and he wondered if you seemed to wield a power of your own. But just as he was trying to make sense of it all, your eyes met his again, this time blazing with a focus so unmistakable it seemed to make his demon rear back in recognition, as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, not of fear but of something far more treacherousâa righteous fury that even he understood he deserved.Â
Silently, you forced your chair back with a harsh scrape that seemed to echo in his very bones, and when you stood, when you looked at him with that same piercing gaze, in that moment, his demon didnât just quietâit cowered. âI wish to get one thing clear with you, Harry Edward Styles,â you said, and the moment his full name left your lips, something impossible happened.
It was as if an invisible force wrapped around his throat, not crushing but undeniably present, firm enough to make its warning absolutely clear. Harryâs eyes widened, his hand instinctively rising halfway to his neck before he forced it back down. Yet, the touch wasnât demonicâno, this was something else entirely, something that hummed with an authority that was just as unearthly as his own power.
âI will tell you thisâŠI have no intention of cowering around you in fear,â you continued, your voice steady despite the tears that threatened to fall. If it is fear that you seek to evoke within me, I shall keep my distance. Should you wish to imprison me, I will play my part, but if you meant a single breath of what we discussed before you stormed off the other evening, you will never speak to me in such a manner again.â
For a second, the grip around his neck tightened, just enough to remind Harry of its presence, as you held his eyes. The longer you maintained his gaze, the more Harry felt as though you were looking straight through his illusion, past the perfect human facade and directly into the writhing darkness beneath. Then the grip went slack, but it remained a constant presence, neither tightening nor loosening, only becoming a steady reminder of a power he couldnât name or understand.
âIf Iâve spoken out of turn,â you said, though your tone suggested you knew very well you hadnât, âplease speak now, and I will know where we stand.â And as the words left your mouth, a flicker of pain crossed your features, and your hand moved to press against your lower belly, a gesture that sent an unexpected ache of concern through Harryâs chest.
His eyes tracked the movement, noting the way your fingers pressed into the fabric of your morning dress, and suddenly the fight drained from him entirely. He cleared his throat, and miraculously, the invisible grip released. When Harryâs eyes flicked to yours, the power ebbed and slowly faded, as if you, too, no longer wanted to fight, your features softening just enough for him to lay down arms.Â
Harry finally spoke then, âI am clear on the words you have just expressed.â And out of instinct, his hand rose to his neck, massaging the phantom sensation that lingered there. He cleared his throat again, trying to banish the rasp from his voice. âIâm sorry for my unseemly outburst. Please forgive me. I will do my very best to tame it next time.â
Wordlessly, you nodded, granting him a single, commanding inclination of your head that somehow contrived to make him feel both pardoned and condemnedâcarried with all the grace of a queen dismissing a subject, and you placed your napkin beside your unfinished plate.
âIf youâll please excuse me,â you said, your voice returning to that maddeningly calm register, âI would like to get changed to work in the greenhouse. I have plans to be there most of the day.â
Harry stood abruptly, then immediately questioned the wisdom of it. He didnât want his height, his presence, to seem like another form of intimidation. But you didnât flinch, didnât step back, merely waited with that boundless patience that was somehow more disturbing than any show of fear would have been.
He gave you what he hoped was a sufficiently grave nod. âI truly am sorry. Please tell me if there is anything I can do to make it up to you, and I will do my best to accommodate it.â
Just as you reached the door, you paused, hand clutching at your lower belly, but you didnât turn around fully, only offered him your profileâa sight that inexplicably reminded him of that first night in the carriage, when you had removed your gloves and nearly unmade him entirely.
âI told you what I wanted,â you said, and then you looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes carrying the weight of your meaning, sending a flash of heat pooling in his stomach. âYouâll know where to find meâŠwhen youâre ready.â
Just as your words settled, a servant opened the door as if summoned by your very presence, ushering you out and leaving Harry standing alone in the vast dining hall, staggered by the remnants of every unfinished thought torturing him and the echo of a power he couldnât comprehend.
When Harry climbed the stairs after breakfast to his study, his feet heavy and leaden with each step, as he meditated on the disaster heâd made of the morning, and he was struck with a new surprise. The moment he crossed the threshold, your scent hit his senses, giving you away, like it had seeped into every surface you had touched during his absence. Curious, he moved to his desk, sinking into the chair where he knew without a doubt you had sat. His eyes roamed over the surfaces where yours had run, and probably ran your fingers across. He gathered the neat documents in his hands, eyes tracing over his signature with a new curiosity, looking for any clues you may have found interesting in his mundane life.Â
Should he see the act as a violation, yet as he searched for the anger, he found he had nothing to hide. On paper, he was a normal man, handling his business affairs like any other man in his position. Still, as he calmed the human, the demon stirred, your scent rousing his fleshly wantâan animal in search of its mate. Was that what you were? Had you both been fated to meet that night, was this the draw silencing his demon in your presenceâthe magnetic pull that defied every ounce of his control, could you be the fated connection that terrified him more than any prophecy his father had ever spoken, because that was never spoken. He was never meant for anything more than the role he was created for.
Should he dare to dream of such happenings, he asked himself as he closed his eyes, allowing himself the dangerous indulgence of imagining what it would be like to shed his human mask entirely, to stand before you in all his monstrous truth. Would you run? That warlike spirit you had displayed this morning suggested otherwise. Would you recoil at the sight of his horns, the demonic markings that told the story of his cursed heritage? Or would those remarkable eyes of yours simply observe and accept, as they seemed inclined to do with everything else about him?
Nevertheless, the gravest question, the one that sent a shiver of genuine apprehension through his very soul, was whether he could maintain control if he gave into your desiresâwhat you had made so painfully clear you wanted, as you held fast to the sacred duty to consummate the marriageâa marriage he had crafted as a mere facade, a convenient arrangement that had become anything but convenient the moment you had taken his hand in that carriageâbecause it truly was so much more.Â
His demon had harbored a desire from the very first touchâa wish to devour, to claim and possess in a manner most mortifying to any proper lady⊠or even any human being, for that matter. Yet you were no ordinary lady, were you? There was something decidedly otherworldly about you, a mysterious aura that called to both sides of his nature with equal infatuation. The human within him longed to cherish and protect you, even from himself, while the demon yearned to worship you in ways that would cause the angels above to weep in despair.
The question that haunted his thoughts most was whether he could lie with youâto take you as his wife in truthâwithout succumbing to the beast within. Could he trust himself to be gentle when every fiber of his being yearned to claim, to mark, to possess? Could he maintain his illusion of control? Did he require more time, or was his time already slipping away? Because then the memory of his fatherâs presence in your room, the lingering scent of Susurrus' breach, sent a fresh wave of panic as a protective rage surged through him. If he couldnât even keep his father at bay, how could he trust himself not to harm you?
Yet, what choices remained? To persist in this distance, this meticulous routine of avoidance, which only seemed to be gradually draining your spirits. He could see it in the shadows under your eyes, in the way you tenderly pressed your hand to your belly, as if seeking relief from an ache that mirrored his own. Beyond your shared desires, he longed to ask you so many questionsâcuriosities that hovered like delicate paper notes around him, waiting to be unfolded.Â
Just as Harry was forming another thread of thought, a knock at the door shattered his trance. Agnus entered, her weathered face attentive and neutral, though her thoughts rang clear⊠âThe poor masterâs as tortured as his bride. What a pair they make, both too stubborn to see whatâs plain as day.â
âIs there anything youâll be needing before I settle the missus for the evening?â she asked, though Harry could hear the real question beneath⊠âWill you finally stop this foolishness and go to your wife?â
âNo,â Harry said, standing to make it seem as though he had been working rather than lost in another round of tortured contemplation. Yet he knew the movements looked stiff and uncertain, nothing like his usual steady refinement.Â
And as Agnus turned to leave, Harry found himself speaking before he could think better of it, the words emerging with a pained hesitancy that even he knew was uncharacteristic of himself.Â
âPlease tell her...â he paused, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like weighted pockets full of stones in the ocean, and when he spoke, he felt the demon writhing in anticipation while the human within trembled with the magnitude of what he knew this would cost him. âPlease tell her she will get what she wants.â
Harry watched confusion flicker across Agnusâs features, stunned only for a moment, and though the confusion lingered, she merely nodded, and just as she was about to close the door, Harry called out her name. She paused in place, gazing at him again, âWhile I was away, did my wife suffer any more terrors?â
Agnus spoke quickly, even though Harry already pulled the answer from her mind, âNo, terrors, sir, she was perfectly rested every night.â
âVery well, Agnus, that will be all, thank youâ,â Harry answered, gathering a stack of papers into his hands as he listened for the sound of the door, but when he didnât hear the click, he glanced back up.Â
âExcuse me, sir, just in case the missus asks. When should she be expecting you this evening?â And the joy that rang out in Agnusâs mind nearly swallowed his thoughts completely, as if Agnus had just understood Harryâs intentions in the message she was to convey.Â
Harry ran a hand over the sleeve of his jacket, his markings burning beneath, âWithin the hour. Iâm just finishing up here. I shouldnât be long.â He told her, pulling at his sleeve, being sure everything was concealed at the wrist.Â
âVery well, Mr. StylesâŠI will bid my leave nowâŠâ She said, trying to hide the smile pressing at the corners of her mouth as Harry listened to her inner monologue, and the great details she would take to make this evening perfect for both of you.Â
As she finally took her leave and closed the door, Harry was left alone with the consequence of the promise he had just made; now the die was cast. Tonight, he would go to you. Tonight, he would risk everythingâhis control, his methodically conserved facade, possibly your very lifeâbased on the growing certainty that you were meant to be more than just this convenient arrangement. That in your presence, you could silence the beast, but if there were a God above, please grant thy will of safety, he nearly whispered, allowed, as the demon gnarled its ugly head.
Could you both be strong together? Wereâyouâstrong enough? Were you meant to be his salvation, or were you the very damnation his father spoke of?
Could you be both?
And though these thoughts should have terrified him. Instead, for the first time since you took his hand, Harry felt hope rise enough to tame the monster.
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?
Sheâd fallen asleep. When had she fallen asleep?
The man at the foot of her bed is a shadow â face veiled by the angle of the dusk. His stature, though â broad, visibly â 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.Â
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 â Mila should be petrified.Â
She isnât. Instead, she finds ease in his presence. Thereâs an oddly ironic comfort to his company â 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 itâs pleasant â his voice. Deep in inflection, a sweet melody to her half-awake eardrums, dreamy like a lewd fantasy in her REM cycle. Itâs familiar, itâs the same voice sheâs heard grazing against her ear, in the middle of the night, when heâs on top, his weight warm over her, when his hips rock against her own, when he stretches her with his cock. Mila, Mila, Mila, youâre 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 â 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 â 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.Â
âI know, baby, I know,â is what he tells her, his tone gentle like the soft touch squeezing over her love handle â 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. Heâs a dream. Literally.Â
Sheâs dreaming, the young woman convinces herself â sheâs 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.Â
âMila,â 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, yesâ
This is a dream. This is a very lucid dream, Mila thinks, but it feels very real when his touch cradles her bare ankle âthe blanketâs 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. Heâs pasted a knee onto it, and Mila watches his form in motion, bathed in shadow.
âGonna be a good girl and let me make you feel good tonight?â Â
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Preview: Harry is a demon, and Y/N is just really nice
Warning: SMUT (I got this idea when I was in the library. Do not judge me)
Full story: Tuesday, April 19, 2022 or read now on Patreon.
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Harry never considered himself a gentleman. He couldn't recall the last time he'd done something remotely gentlemanly. He never got up on the train or a bus when there was no seat left and an old lady with a cane got on. He almost pushed a guy into the train track the last time he'd ridden the tube; in his defence, the bloke was a tourist, so who hadn't thought about pushing a tourist into the train track before? So it took everything in him now not to strangle this mortal girl after she'd woken him up at 1 AM and dragged him here.
"It won't take long," Y/N said, taking him by the hand and pulling him down the aisle.
They were the only ones in the library. Every person and object in this house was asleep. After midnight, the house was as quiet as a graveyard. The only sound you could hear on a peaceful evening such as this one was the rustling of leaves outside the windows.
Harry's heart thumped with every one of their footsteps across the wooden floor. The library was so big that even a whisper echoed. He never understood how his great great great uncle had chosen to build such a huge library and filled it with so many books that stacked up all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Four walls were covered by books. All dusted up and abandoned for decades.
Y/N was the only one who came in here often, and she cleaned up sometimes, but she couldn't possibly clean every corner of this old place.
"You better give me a good reason not to kill you," Harry said with a growl when she released his hand and they had reached the wall at the end of the aisle.
She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming. And now he was curious about her new discovery that made her unbothered by his threat of killing her.
"I found this book." Her grin reached her eyes as she pulled a hardback out of a shelf. It was pretty old, the leather cover dirty and torn at the corners. Y/N opened it and Harry started coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, dust floating in the moonlight streaming through the oval windows above the bookcase.
Y/N dragged her fingers down the page and stopped at one paragraph. "Okay, here it says that a demon is free of his chains when..."
"When he's collected 666 pure souls," Harry rolled his eyes, "are you mansplaining me right now? This was in Demon 101."
Y/N blinked in surprise. "You had a class called Demon 101?"
"No. That was sarcasm."
Y/N didn't seem amused. "Also, it's not mansplaining because I'm a woman."
"You're human. So it's mansplaining." Then, he jabbed a finger at her face and she flinched, her back hitting the shelf behind her with a thud. "I can gladly waste a pure soul and kill you now so I can go back to sleep."
"No, listen!" She circled around him and stood in front of him. Despite his annoyance, she went on reading the content on the page. "A demon is free of his chains when he gives up his immortality."
Harry arched an eyebrow as Y/N's smile grew. "So there is a way to save you."
"Errr, that is even worse than having Lucifer burn me to ashes."
"How? Being human is great."
He eyed her up and down. "Says you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you suck, and this is stupid."
Y/N seemed offended. Good. She should be.
"Just think about it, you sold your soul when you were twenty, and according to this book, you could go back to being twenty again. You'd rather suffer for eternity than be human?" she asked.
"Wrong." He held up a finger to her nose. "I'd rather finish my job, then get released from my contract, and live a life as an immortal. I don't want to die of old age. And this bookâ" he grabbed the book from her hand and clapped it shut, making her jump, " âis not correct. Well, at least not entirely. Maybe this is an old version that existed centuries ago when humans had a much shorter lifespan. With the new laws of the Underworld, if I ever agreed to give up my immortality, I would become human again, but then Time would catch up with me and I'd die instantly."
"Oh."
Harry rolled his eyes at the disappointment on Y/N's face. "Sweet that you're trying to help, but don't think you can outsmart me."
She stayed silent and watched him put the book back on the shelf. He turned back to her, about to tell her off, but now that his anger had cleared and the sleepiness had faded, he finally noticed her standing there in her nightdress. She caught his intense stare and pulled her cardigan close to cover her revealing chest.
A smirk tugged at his mouth. He advanced, and she quickly withdrew. One step, two steps, three steps. Her back hit the shelf and she froze. He leaned in until he could feel her breath shudder in his presence.
"But why are you so passionate about helping me, little human? Tell me," he sighed and her chest heaved as well, "what would you gain from that, hmm?"
Prompt: just some cozy mornings with the King and Queen Of Hell
Warnings: sexual activities, harry being a simp and a confident husband đ iâm a little worried if this is good smut or not so iâm sorry if this doesnât suit you :/
W/C: 610 words
A/N: Mar my love happiest birthday!!! Iâm hoping the best for you today and every coming day đ hereâs a gift from me to you on this special day of yours đ (do look forward to more đŁ ) @marmixedwithabitofintellect
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âIâm assuming youâre yet again looking at me sleeping, right?â You muttered, voice still rough as your eyes slowly opened to see Harry more clearly. It was still early since the sun seemed to just rise but it didnât help when you could feel his eyes raking your skin.Â
âAnd if I am? Am I wrong to adore my wifeâs face?â He said with a smile on his face as he shifted closer to you, enclosing your waist with his arm and leaving a delicate kiss near your shoulder. You hummed as you felt the kiss, eyes closing unconsciously as sleep enchanted you.
A few minutes later, you felt another light kiss on your shoulder and you took the initiative to shift and rest on his chest as you placed your lips over his in a soft kiss. You could feel the smile on his face grow more as he softly caressed your cheeks with his fingers.Â
You love this unplanned routine you both share, soft kisses shared and bodies wrapped around each othersâ. Far away was sleep now and you couldnât help but caress his muscles gently. Itâs moments like these that make you not want to leave his warmth and how much you wish to spend more time together with him.
âNot wrong, mâlove,â You said, resting your head in the crook of his neck and humming slightly when you felt his hips buck into your own. Just when you start going down with kisses on his body, he turns you both to be the one on top.Â
âIâm having my breakfast so if youâd excuse me.âÂ
It leaves you laughing while feeling relaxed when his fingers began to trace down your body, eventually caressing your thighs.Â
âI wonder who makes you this wet every time?â His lips nip at your sensitive skin before pulling aside your underwear and coating his fingers with your slick as he slowly moved them to your clit.
âWell my husband will have the perfect answer to that, wonât he?â Â
âI bet he has,â You felt the desire grow when a strong flick came on your clit as if he did it in retaliation. When you felt his fingers stretch your pussy, you know youâd never grow used to how his fingers stretched you out. It amazes you how heâs ever ready to give you pleasure and is perfectly fine with keeping his aside.Â
You probably donât know but Harry loves you like this, loves you that you look this pretty even when you complain that your hairâs messy afterwards, loves that only he has the pleasure to see you like this, to make you feel this way. No amount of anything else will be able to satisfy his soul so much than to see you and wake up with you by his side.Â
You didnât leave him either - your hand moved towards his cock and despite the clothed barrier, you could feel the precum. You decide to please him just right after but you continue with subtle touches.Â
âF-fuck.â And he knows, youâll get there soon with the way your thighs begin to twitch, the increasing moaning with little gasps in between as he curls his finger, especially finding his way into that spot which makes you come apart. He is quick to attack your clit with his other thumb as you arched your back and closed your thighs, the desire eventually striking you.
You calmed down few moments later but just as Harry seemed to go and grab tissues to help clean you up, youâre grabbing him back.
âDonât you think I deserve my breakfast too?âÂ
**
Spending Midsummer's Day hospitalized at the Communion Life Hospital Center wasn't exactly how Y/N had planned to spend the most magical day of the year.
No. She had a ticket to go to the annual magic fair with her friend Margery. Where they would surely have a wonderful time stuffing their bellies with sugar cookies, chocolate mushrooms and pumpkin ale, embarrassing themselves a little on the floating roller rink and, above all, timidly ogling at all the cute foreign wizards and witches they were too shy to approach, let alone flirt with.
The fair would also provide them with the chance to get their grabby hands on a bunch of whimsical ingredients and souvenirs that they didn't normally have access to during the rest of the year.
Of course, these days it's perfectly possible for wizards to order most of their funky stuff online... but the ones like Y/N still prefer to pick their ingredients manually.
You see, Y/N is a Seer witch.
It's a valuable trait that usually keeps her from harm's way since it bounds her to be highly ruled by her instinct and particularly sensitive to the energy of the materials and people around her. It has lots of perks. For instance, Y/N almost never gets lost, since she can find her way to where she wants to go based on intuition alone. She can also usually avoid uncomfortable or dangerous situations, even if she never saw or heard about them. â Whether it's silly things akin to jinxed candy that will make her ears grow twice the size or more serious matters, like creepy vampire alleyways and cursed artifacts.
Having instinctive genes also meant that anytime Y/N stared at a conjunct of objects while shopping, such as pile of bird skulls, most times than not one of them would effortlessly entail her attention and overpower all the other ones... which can get a little annoying sometimes when another person steps in and picks what fate had destined to be hers, but luckily most times if she explains her situation, they'll be kind enough to offer to switch, since for most magic people that don't possess any soothsaying abilities, not having a connection with their ingredients doesn't really make a difference in their magic. However, as expected there are also times people will deny her request or proceed to look at her like she's crazy or a bratty little witch.
Which she's not.
She has tried to ignore or go against her instincts multiple times. And in all fairness, the result was usually never good, but Y/N is pretty positive it was never as bad as it was this time.
Her day had been terribly unlucky from the start, which is usually a sign from the universe asking her not to do something. It all started when she tripped in the shower and knocked down her new bottle of shampoo, then her Chartreux cat, Azura, slid down her leg with its nails sticking out and made a huge tear on her favorite pair of overalls that she had just put on. Right after that, as Y/N was about to place a washed cereal bowl to dry on the rack, all the dishes in there fell down the counter for no logical or explainable reason. Later, whilst brushing her teeth she managed to squeeze a blob of toothpaste straight onto the front of her t-shirt and finally, right as she shut the front door and stood on the porch of her little house, she was greeted by an extreme downpour that started right in front of her eyes.
But she simply let out a big sigh and pulled the umbrella out of her bag. She really wanted to go to the fair, therefore if the universe was against it, it was just going to have to suck it this time. Besides, the weather had been stormy and gloomy for a few days now, so the last sign probably didn't even mean a thing.
Y/N should have known better than to defy the fate of the universe.
Because if she hadn't, she probably wouldn't have woken up in the hospital 3 days later, feeling dizzy, having hot flashes, and with severe pain on her left arm.
But alas, she had decided on being a stubborn little witch.
The fair had started just like it always did every year. There was a music band playing, plenty of market stalls to see, with plants, books, trinkets, and foamy caldrons where elixirs and potions bubbled away. Mages performed showy magic tricks and stunts to entertain the groups of wizards walking around sharing rainbow colored funnel cakes and glittery cotton candy.
The rain was a bit of a mood killer, but a simple waterproofing spell was enough to keep Y/N, Margery and the rest of their friends dry as they roamed around the curious attractions. But then things took a turn for the worse. The skies darkened as if ink had been poured over them, prompting your head to lift. A deafening scream echoed through the scene. All the people around seemed to be getting swallowed up, blinded by the dark, bedeviled murk that spread through the air.
Y/NÂ was staring wide-eyed at the cloud that kept rising and rising, when she felt a chilling pain in her upper arm. A succubus wasp's fangs clang onto her skin, its venom penetrating her flesh and leaving her head pulsing and groggy.
She passed out.
And now she was waking up, under a fluffy white quilt as daylight spears between her lashes, making her eyes squint from sensitivity. A comforting presence environs the room, enhanced by the spring scent of rosemary and citrus flowers. She inhales the perfume and lets herself to get swamped by the lulling stillness and the energy that warms her sore body.
It's nice, it's so nice that almost convinces her to fall asleep again.
But then her slumberous head recalls the rising cloud of darkness. It felt ominous, like a warning... and that screaming wail, that froze her insides and made her feel sick at heart. Had someone gotten hurt? What happened after she lost consciousness? She needed to talk to Margery. She needed to make sure everyone was alright.
Y/N opened her eyes completely and crawled up on the bed. There was someone else in the room. Someone who stiffed up like a broomstick as soon as he saw her move. He was attractive... and probably about the same age as her. Tall and bright-eyed, with fuzzy brown curls that fell over his shoulders and cheeks all pinked up and kissable. He wore a cream linen blouse, with a moss-colored garden apron over it. The front of his pocket, from where a few gardening tools poked out of, was lightly smeared with fresh mud. So was one of his cheekbones, right under his eye.
"Oh, hello." The witch said bunglingly once their eyes met, but his reaction was not what she expected. He jumped nervously and dashed out the door like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Not a word, not a smile, just hotfooted away and left her alone to wonder over what had just happened.
Y/NÂ didn't have much time to mull over it, however. Because the next minute a senior woman came into the room, with a big smile stretching across her face like she was genuinely happy to see her awake. "Ah, I see that our sleeping beauty has finally awakened..." She joked, wandering around the bed to open the window and air out the room that suddenly no longer smelled of flowers and happiness, but more so of failing health and antiseptic. "How are you feeling miss Y/N?" The woman asked, taking her palm to the girl's forehead to check the temperature. "Your friends left a while ago... You missed them for a few hours, but they should be back tomorrow. I'm certain they'll be thrilled to find you awake this time."
"Are they okay? Is everyone's okay?"Â Y/N jumped to ask. "How long have I been asleep?"
"You've been here for the past 3 days... but we're going to have to keep you around for a bit longer. That was quite an allergic reaction you had... gave everyone a big scare." As she moved closer, Y/N could perceive the small tag stuck to her uniform's chest that read 'Angela Carrington', and in the line below 'Nurse'. - "I've seen a lot of things in my 25 years working at this hospital, but someone hallucinating after being stung by a sleep wasp...? That's a first."
"Hallucinating?"
She dismissed the alarmed question with a brief wave and a soft pop of her tongue. "It's nothing, don't worry about it." But Y/N's curious expression didn't budge, so the nurse carried on with the subject. "You talked in your drowse, about this big cloud of smoke in the sky and a screaming woman. We figured you were developing an allergic reaction to the venom, that made you feverish and therefore caused the hallucinations. We had to inject you with a calming potion... but you were out like a lamp after that."
The girl squinted slightly, shaking her head sternly. "No, but that was real. That- that happened before I got stung." Her eyes sought out Mrs. Carrington's, that were rounded and twinkled golden from the sunlight that poked through the window. "My friends... everyone that was there... they saw it too. It was huge and scary... they have got to have seen it, haven't they?"
The nurse pursed her lips sympathetically, patting the girl's head lightly. "Oh darling. That little head of yours is still all topsy-turvy, isn't it? It must've all happened so quick... didn't even feel it."
Ungrudgingly, Y/N allowed her body to slip under the quilt again.
So it had all been a figment of her imagination...
That gave her a bit more peace of mind, especially knowing that everyone she loved was safe, and not out there trying to survive a smokey apocalypse while she slept like a sloth. But at the same time, some things still didn't make much sense. She was so sure she had felt the sting after seeing the cloud... The memory was so clear that she could practically portray the whole scene inside her head.
But maybe it was all a hallucination after all.
"Dinner will be served in a little while, but for now I'll leave you to rest for a little longer." The nurse affirmed, after she was done inspecting Y/N's wound. "Your friends left a bag with your personal things on the couch. If you want to use the bathroom, it's this door right here." She explained, signaling the only door inside the room besides the main one. "For now it's all yours, but if someone else is admitted to the room you'll have to share." Y/N nodded, although she wasn't really asking. "If you need anything else, all you have to do is ring that bell and someone will come check on you. If you feel any discomfort or have more delusional episodes, it's best to let someone know. It could be a sign that the fever has returned."Â
Y/N cringed at the words 'delusional episodes'.
She was fairly used to receiving high signs and warnings from the unknown, but having visions and hallucinations was an entirely different level of looney... even for a witch.
Divination was not a very common gift among wizards, in fact the more skeptic ones even considered it to be nothing but a business hoax to trick desperate people into believing something great awaited them. She knew for a fact that wasn't entirely true though. She had inherited the trait from her aunt Rowena, who still to that day worked as a fortune-teller in Las Vegas.
She was very popular among the non-magic people for her correct predictions... so popular that she had once even gotten invited to record a show for the TLC channel. Naturally they had no idea she was a real witch, like a proper potion-making, spell-casting witch and believed she simply had the so called gift.
Unlike aunt Rowena however, Y/N never aspired to take financial advantage of their shared genetic trait. Not because she found any faults in doing so, but because she found faults in her personal trait, specifically. There were stages in her life where her intuition seemed to shut down completely, and others where it was at a constant all-time high. And since Y/N is certain proper fortune-tellers should have a stable vision and not one that is fluctuating and unpredictable, she chooses to rely on it solely for her own safeness and satisfaction. Like a secret party trick that made her feel a little cooler than the other wizards around her sometimes.
And honestly, despite aunt Rowena's unquestionable success, Y/N had never truly believed it once she claimed to have prophetic visions. How could she, when they shared the same intrinsic gene and she had never had that kind of mind-expanding experience herself?
She only had what was usually referred to as an inner vision, or mystical intuition. Like an inner force that guided her into making right decisions... and yet, now her mind couldn't help but go back to the stories told by her aunt, that she had always believed to be nothing but a reaction to the modern drugs consumed in the non-magical world, at best.
But no, it couldn't be. If she really were to have a prophetic gift, wouldn't it have shown during her pre-teen years like the intuition did?
The doctors were right. Her head was still confused, and this was just a case of feverish hallucinations. But if that was so, could the cute boy she had seen earlier in her room also be a fantasy of her mind?
She really hoped not.
"I've also seen this, um... boy? Right before you walked in."Â Y/N started apprehensively, what made the nurse's head pop up off her patient record. "I don't know if I also imagined him or not, I was still half asleep when it happened..."
"What did he look like?" She pried, focusing her curious gaze on the girl's face, that was peeking at her stout figure from under the quilt.
"He was, um..." The girl stalled up her own words, trying to recollect a clearer image in her conscience. "Tall... longish hair... was wearing a uniform. A bit different than yours, like a gardening smock...? I don't know if that's what it's called."
"Oh." The older witch grinned in understanding. "That would be Harry. He's real, a bit peculiar but a sweetheart, nonetheless." Her smile widened when she saw the kraft paper wrapping perched on the room's nightstand. "I see he left you one of his little gifts..." She said, pointing to the item Y/N hadn't noticed yet.
The witch looked away from her for a moment and focused on the rough package. Had he left this here for her? Did he not want her to know it came from him? That would explain why he had left in such a hurry, but it still didn't explain why he hadn't responded to her greeting. "Is he um..."Â Y/N began to question, unable to push away the curiosity. "Does he talk?"
The nurse laughed mid sigh. "He can talk, but he's not very talkative, no."
She hummed understandingly. "Is he also staying at the hospital?"
"Not as a patient. He's our botanical specialist." The witch nurse clarified, what already answered a few other silly questions Y/N was planning to ask next, regarding the reasons why he was wearing an apron and why did he smell good like spring. "He was the one who made the ointment we've been coating your wound with." She also told, drawing Y/N's attention to her own upper arm that was still swollen and slightly greenish from the bite. "Crazy what some sprouts and fermented flower nectars can do, huh?"
It wasn't until way after dinnertime that Y/N finally gave in and unwrapped open the gift on her bedside table.
She hadnât forgotten about it⊠how could she? It wasnât like there were any cute wizards with rosy cheeks and muddy clothes bringing her gifts every other day.
As a matter of fact, she couldn't even remember the last time she had received a gift other than from Margery on her birthday. Y/N was thrilled. For that reason, ever since the nice nurse had left, she had been waging an inner battle between her logical brain and her jumpy, excited heart. Having picked up the present and given it a curious shake before quickly placing it back countless times. She really wanted to rip the wrapping open, but her brain was still partially convinced that the quiet wizard doctor had left whatever it was in her room by mistake and was going to come bursting through the door at any moment to get it back.
But once the long hours passed and he still didnât come, Y/N finally gave in to the temptation, sitting up on the bed and moving the package to her lap. She tried not to screw up the paper too much, but it was hard with the way her hands were moving with excitement.
The first thing the girl saw was a round glass dome, what caused her fingers to rush to remove the rest of the paper. At first, she thought it to be a crystal ball, what wouldâve been awful ironic and borderline scary after that whole fortune-telling plight, but then she noticed that there was a miniature myrtle tree inside, roughly the size of a human hand. Y/N let out a sigh of surprise once its flowers began to glow a faint shade of lavender with the contact, and its branches began to sway to the rhythm of an unintelligible current as she revolved the dome around in her hands.
It was fascinating.
Y/N had never seen anything like it.
Which made her stomach go a little pudgy, because the more she thought about it, the more the certainty that this was not meant to be given to her settled in. It was too beautiful⊠Y/N doesn't get these lovely, thoughtful presents that leave her smiling silly like a fool. She gets other nice things, like adorable mittens and animal slippers, but not mini enchanted forests that react to the touch and glow purple in the dark. That's what witches who are loved, like downright adored by their partners get. Not witches who go on accidental head trips after being stung by sleep wasps.
Y/N sighed wistfully and placed the dome back on the nightstand. She just hoped Harry would come back for it soon before she grew too attached to the little bottled landscape.
Living, and breathing for its own will.
Y/N woke up a few hours later with a gasp, sitting up in bed like a zombie rising from the grave. She didn't have to wonder what was going on for long, a glance at the clock on the wall answered her question. It was 3 AM - The witching hour.
The witching hour is in some ways resembling of those spikes of energy and sudden urges that non-magic people have, to get up and do something productive at the most ungodly hours in the night. The difference being that wizards can't just lie in bed and plan to do it later like ordinary people do before they inevitably fall back asleep.
Wizards can't control it. It's like their occult abilities start circulating through their bodies, pressuring them to put them practice. Usually when Y/N is at home, what she does during her hocus-pocus hour is kneel by her altar and play a little with her magic candles, or flip through the pages of a witch magazine, to get in touch with the latest spells and rituals trends. If she's feeling particularly inspired, she'll try one or two right away⊠but that determination is hard to come by.
Now that she's stuck in a hospital room though, Y/N doesn't quite know what she's supposed to do with her time. Shouldn't they keep something around for the patients entertain themselves? Even if it was just a piece of rope to build a witch's ladder or yarn and needles to knit a nice winter scarfâŠ
She got up to access her bag over the couch. The chances were slim, but maybe amidst their rush one of her friends had remembered the small âwitching hourâ detail and stuffed something in her bag that she could work or entertain herself with for a whole hour every day. But her searching didnât go too far past undoing the bagâs zipper and shuffling around a few pieces of clothing⊠because she started to hear joyous chattering and walking in the corridors, as if a religious pilgrimage was taking place outside her door.
The witch allowed her curiosity to lead her towards the entrance, opening a crack on the door and peering through. Groups of sorcerers entertained themselves with side conversations as they walked in pajamas and slippers, heading somewhere to the left. Y/N watched them with her eyebrows creased, before focusing on what was happening in the room right in front of her door. A nurse helped a grouchy old man move from his hospital bed onto a wheelchair. Y/N's heightened Seer senses tuned in on the one-sided conversation they were having. "Come on Mr. Hawk," the nurse encouraged. âWe have a toffee pudding down the hall with your name on it⊠better hurry up before Miss Flores finds it first and leaves you nothing but the crumbs.â
Toffee pudding? He better watch out for Y/N because she might very well go and steal it from him first...
Okay, of course she's not actually planning to steal the old man's pudding but if everyone's leaving their rooms and going that way, sheâs going after them.
**
The dining hall looked like a big coven reunion.
Sorcerers practiced activities and spells together, others conversed and played enchanted board games. Mostly Spinning Scrabble - that was just like normal scrabble, only every time someone built a word the square pieces rearranged themselves, apart from the already filled ones, as well as Lifelike Battleship, that came with a board of moving waves where ships floated at the surface. When hit wholly, the ships would collapse right in front of the players eyes and sink under the ensorcelled panel of foamy, undulating waters until completely gone from sight.
Some of the roomâs dining tables were stuffed full of drinks and cakes. That was where the patients and staff who got the late night munchies gathered. There was a bit of everything! Warm milk and tea, pies, pastries, muffins, toast... the whole lot of foods anyone could ever wish to have before bed.
The atmosphere was homey and fantastic.
It reminded Y/N of the festive season back at her parents' house. Of those times all their relatives got up during the witching hour and gathered around the fireplace in the living room to form a circle of benign magic. The adults usually went back to their rooms after, whilst Y/N and her cousins stayed up the rest of night⊠playing these same spellbound board games and sharing jinxed sweets that had some quite unpredictable affects. She recalled that time an innocent looking candy cane turned her brain into actual mush and left her blankety-blank for hours.
Fun timesâŠ
âMiss Y/NâŠâ A vaguely familiar voice called from behind her, prompting her to turn her head back. Y/N smiled accommodatingly at the sight of the same senior nurse, Mrs. Carrington, who had come by her room earlier. âI stopped by your room just now to call you, but I see you've found your way by yourself⊠How are you feeling, darling? Good?â She responded positively, and without further ado the witch rested a hand in the middle of her back and started guiding her around the room for a brief introduction. âOkay well, this is our everyday witching hour stationâŠâ She started. âYou don't have to come down here if you don't want to, but we usually encourage everyone to do so... After all itâs very fruitful for the soul to be around others like us during the most magical hour of the day, isnât it?â Y/N didn't get to answer the question, since the nurse carried on talking right away, so she just smiled slightly and continued to follow her around the room. âFeel free to make yourself at home. You have games, food, people to talk to⊠thereâs some books over there if you feel like reading⊠oh, and you can pray or practice magic too - as long as itâs not disturbing for the other patients - so no noisy rituals, no smelly potions, no bewitching other wizards and no summoning demons... is that clear?â
Y/N's eyes widened as she nodded her head eagerly. Summoning demons? Did Mrs. Carrington think she looked evil enough to be a black magic practitioner or was she just speaking out of protocol? If so⊠did that mean someone had ever tried it before? Y/N opened her mouth to ask, but the older witch spoke before she could. âOh dearâŠâ She purled, catching sight of the pendulum clock on the wall. âI would keep you company if I could, but it's almost time to give Mrs. Wolf her medication, and lord knows we donât want her to go without it any time soon...â She patted Y/N's back sympathetically. âOh! You should try the pumpkin spread toasts while Iâm gone! They're truly something elseâŠâ
âThank you.â Y/N smiled sheepishly with a brief nod. âI will.â
Y/N still felt a little awkward collecting a plate from the pile and circling the tables by herself. Her eyes scanned the room, wishing to find someone her age or a kind looking grandma she felt comfortable enough going to sit next to, but unfortunately every witch and wizard around seemed to be settled in a group already⊠Y/N was the only one out, except for the half-baked witch coiled up in a corner next to Mrs. Carrington muttering nonsense under her breath. She tried to stop that aloof feeling from getting a hold of her bones, picking out a small carrot cake muffin and a toast slice spread with pumpkin butter. She still looked twice at the toffee pudding, but there were only two slices left, so she chose to leave them for her grouchy neighbor and miss Flores and walked to the drinks section instead, to pour herself a glass of cocoa milk.
She was trying to pour the milk with one hand and balance her plate of food in the other, but it turns out the milk frother was much heavier than she'd anticipated, causing her to let the plate accidentally skid from her hand for a millisecond. Y/N caught onto it quickly but not quick enough to stop her slice of toast from falling to the floor. Muttering a silent curse through her teeth, the young witch bent down in hopes to pick up the mess sheâd made before anyone noticed. To Y/Nâs shock however, by picking up the slice laying top down on the floor, she happened to reveal a symbol drawn in pumpkin butter.
Her knees jarred back by their own will once her gut identified it as an attacking serpent with menacing teeth and a slithery forked tongue. Her hand dropped the bread to her feet in favor of touching her temple. That woman's loud wailing was ringing beneath her skull again, just like it did at the magic fair. She felt an impulse to scream along with the voice, but her throat felt like it was knotted in an involuntary vow of silence.
With panicky beads forming in her eyes, Y/N glanced around the room. Everyone looked just as serene and unperturbed as before. With the wraith of distress still present in her features and goose bumps underneath her clothes, she reached for a napkin and wiped the stained floor hastily.
What the hell was happening with her?
The next morning Y/N was surprised by a visit from her friends.
She had just finished assembling her breakfast in the tray the way she liked when they walked in the room, beaming from delight once they saw their friend conscious and smiling back at them. âOhhâŠâ Y/N cooed softly when she saw that Margery carried a plush toy and a 'get well soon' helium balloon under her forearm, of the kind they sell in stores around hospitals. âStop it⊠is that a chubby narwhal?â
âMm, I donât know⊠Is that strawberry cream cheese?â The brown girl joked as she slumped on the chair closest to the bed and opened her mouth so that her friend would grant her a bite of her food. That dayâs breakfast consisted of a wholegrain bagel with butter or strawberry cream cheese, a bowl of mixed fruit, and a mug of an instant barley drink that tasted okay but didn't provide Y/N with the energy she usually got from caffeine before starting her day.
But the wonder of seeing the familiar faces of her friends gave her all the spiritual boost she needed. Especially the frisky one of her best friend Margery.
She was a very affectionate sea witch, despite her rather dark aesthetic. She wore long blue dreadlocks, decorated with cowrie shells, beads and countless thin gold rings like the one that adorned the center of her lower lip. She preferred to dress in black or dark shades almost every day and always carried more than five pieces of jewelry on her â Most of them were crafted by her own hands, since she owned a small knickknack business. Y/N helped her with it at times, and in return Margery taught her how to make gemstone pendants from scratch and how to combine stones to improve their magical powers. It was a good dynamic that benefited both girls.
Then there was Axl, he was a couple years younger than the rest, despite being the tallest and broadest. He was a true potions master, and it turns out that his talent also extended to the kitchen. Axl always made the best soups and stews... full of flavors, colors, and mouthwatering aromas. Anything he served was always a real treat for the senses⊠well, except for that time he got distracted and welcomed his friends with a bowl of carrot flavored laxative potion that was meant to relieve his grandmaâs intestinal gas instead of roasted vegetable soup and left everyone tutting all night long⊠That wasnât a treat for anyone's olfactory sense, but they got through it together like good friends do.
And finally, there was Pam. A girl who would happily live in a cabin isolated from the rest of the magic world forever if she could. She did disappear off the map often. To go on lonely trips around the globe with no day of return planned. The only company she truly couldnât do without was Dodger, her pet ferret which she always carried right over her shoulder or on a red sparkly leash. Y/N was slightly appalled that Pam had come into town just to visit her, since she always got quite squirmy in places with many people and usually always needed at least a month of isolation to recover after attending a big, crowded event like the fair, but she was happy to see her crotchety face anyway.
âDo you guys want to try some hospital breakfast as well?â Y/N asked Pam and Axl, who took the remaining empty seats on the couch. They didnât seem too interested so she forked a grape from her fruit serving and took it to her mouth. âWhat about you Dodger baby? I bet you would love a little banana slice to chew on, wouldnât you?â Y/N gave Pam that look. She normally never let anyone feed fruit to her pet because well, ferrets werenât supposed to eat it⊠but the little guy loved bananas, and Y/N loved to watch him eat them.
âFineâŠâ Pam granted after a moment of silence. âOnly because you're sick, otherwise I wouldn't let you spoil himâŠâ Y/N flashed her a grin, finger picking a small piece out of the fruit box and throwing it over the seat for the ferret to catch.
âI'm not sick anymore I think⊠they just want me to stay for a couple more days to make sure I donât have any other weird allergy symptoms.â
âI didnât know people could get anaphylaxis from sleep waspsâŠâ Axl mumbled under his breath, prompting the girls to flash him a chastising look. The kind that made it explicit that this wasn't the first time they'd discussed the topic. âWhat? Itâs true⊠I went to Wiccapedia and it said that there is no known species of magical insect whose venom causes immediate fever. Much less high enough to cause hallucinationsâŠâ
âLast time I checked you weren't a doctor, besides Wiccapedia is not a reliable source of information, you should know by nowâŠâ Margery interrupted Axlâs commenting, raising her voice with annoyance. âIf the doctors say that's what happened, it's because it was.â
âEither that or they're not telling us the truth.â Axl spat, crossing his legs and his arms simultaneously. âIf they were fully convinced the issue was just allergy fever, by now they wouldâve sent her home with an antidote prescriptionâŠâ
Y/N was sitting against the bedframe watching them argue like she was watching a ping pong tournament. With her head incessantly swiveling from side to side to try to keep up with what was going on. âOkay, enough!â She spat, once she was done listening to them bicker. âThereâs something I need to tell youâŠâ That made their discussion stop and their heads turn towards her expectantly. ââŠRemember my crazy aunt, Rowena? The Las Vegas fortune-teller?â
âRowenaâŠâ Axl squinted as he tried to remember. âThat name sounds vaguely familiarâŠâ
âThe milf one, with the nice rack.â Margery elucidated, making Y/N scowl although it seemed to do the trick for Axlâs memory. âWhat? Itâs true. She has got a great rack⊠It's hard not to notice.â
âOkay well, forget about her tits for a moment.â Y/N sighed, holding her eyes shut for a second. âThe point is I'm starting to think she's not so crazy after allâŠâ
She told them there - about the screaming woman and cloud of smoke she'd witnessed at the fair, about aunt Rowena's telltale of hallucinating experiences, how she was beginning to think they might have that unusual flair in common, and even about the serpent omen that she'd seen the day prior during the witching hour.
âWow, thatâs crazy⊠I thought the common omens for Seers were crows and clouds... and feelingsâŠâ Axl said in awe. âHave you told that to anyone in here? They must totally think you have bats in the belfry if you did soâŠâ
âI donât have bats in the belfry! Iâm not crazyâŠâ Y/N stood up for her sanity. âAnd no, I havenât told anyone! I know it sounds mental, but that's not even whatâs worrying me the most⊠These are abnormal omens, you know? The feeling I get while itâs happening is⊠dark, and cold, it's horrible.â
âAre you sure that what you saw was a serpent and not a snake?â Pam asked, her eyes fixed on the magic themed website she was consulting on her phone. âIt says here they're quite different...â She started reading the words aloud. âA snake can be linked to healing, birth, fertility⊠itâs a good omen generally. I mean, unless this is your way of finding out you're carrying a randoâs baby... Iâm sure that would be somewhat disconcerting.â
âSheâs not carrying a baby.â Margery heaved on the defensive, before her face turned to Y/N's for confirmation. âYouâre not, right?â
âUnless I have a slutty sleepwalking side, or can now get pregnant through my imagination, I would say no.â
âWell then, is there any chance someone close to you might be?â
Y/N shook her head earnestly. The word that surged in her subconscious right as her eyes caught sight of that symbol was serpent. Not snake, not cobra - serpent. âWhat does it say about the other symbol?â The witch asked inquisitively, dismissing any more pregnancy questions.
Pam cleared her throat as she focused back on the article. âIt says that⊠that the serpent is one of the oldest and most widespread mythological symbols.â Y/N breathed in relief at the news. At least it was common. âThroughout the years, this symbol has been linked to the Devil or Satan that leads the whole world astray. Chaos, corruption, and darkness are some of its most common interpretations. It is also believed that if a serpent omen crosses your path, an enemy is nearby.â
When Pam looked up from the phone, she was being stared at by livid and appalled faces. âWhat? Youâre not all genuinely afraid of a symbol now, are you?â
Y/N is not really afraid of the symbol per se, but she has to admit itâs quite disconcerting that she keeps seeing it everywhere.
So much that often times she finds herself questioning if it's a mere suggestion of fear or if it really could be happening. Like when she stares out the window to watch the stormy weather through the glass before bed and the wind blows over the willow tree planted outside in the hospital garden, causing its branches to form a snake-like pattern. Or later, by the end of the witching hour, when she finishes a mug of cocoa milk and the dregs of chocolate at the end form a drawing similar to a coiled serpent that covers practically the full bottom of the mug.
The presages always make Y/Nâs spine waggle a little beyond control, but after the third day they donât surprise her that much anymoreâŠ
At least not as much as when she decides to go for a walk without destination around the hospital to stimulate the circulation in her legs and is suddenly faced with an entrance to a tiny greenhouse.
She looks up at the ceiling, marveling at the pyramidal glass structure that is covered in layers upon layers of green plants and kaleidoscopic flowers of all shapes and sizes. There are wood and stone structures inside, to which vines curl around like leafy swirls. The mossy shelves and gardening tables are burdened by pots of bulbous flowers, earthy herbs and mushroom species Y/N had never seen before. Like a miniature garden of Eden shielded behind tall, translucent walls.
But it's when she starts hearing a lively voice talking inside, that Y/N can't curb her own curiosity⊠poking her head through the entrance for a quick overlook.
What she saw caused her to hold her breath for what seemed like an interminable amount of time. The quiet botanical wizard was standing in front of a scaled-down wooden cottage made from the roots of a wild tree. Just like the first time she'd seen him, he had on his cute little gardening attire⊠but this time there was also a crown made from pansies and lavender perched over his head, that looked far too perfect to have been braided by human fingers.
He was spiritedly reciting fairy tale lines from the pages of a book held in between his hands to a thumb-sized, elfin audience.
The groups of fairy creatures sat over the roof of their verdant hut, perching up their hairy heads over flimsy arms or bent knees. Their skin glowed a soft shade of yellow, by virtue of their luminous wings. Their ears and noses were pointy and delicate, providing their mischievous features with certain feline characteristics.
They listened attentively to the different dialogues recited by the boy, who read them a story with as much dedication as that of a father reading to his children.
Y/N couldn't not stand quietly by the door watching him spiel. The boy before her was wonderful - from the flowers in his hair to his soft spoken voice. His features seemed to have been outlined by the gods, a perfect balance between tender and sharp. Masculine and feminine. His irises were as dazzling as amazonite beads. Bright and tinged in a deep shade of iceberg green, and if that didnât make him attractive enough, he looked so⊠gentle and lovable. Of course Y/N never spoke to him, so her opinions are utterly romanticized but there is no way a wizard who reads sleep stories to fairies isnât an absolute sweetheart.
Y/N is completely taken by him, so sucked in on his appearance that it takes her more time than it should have to register that his lips have fallen silent, and he is now looking back at her, cheeks burning scarlet and body as stiff as a corpse.
Harry shudders slightly when the girl steps inside the greenhouse, what ends up scaring off his fairies who rush to go hide inside their hut. âOh no. Iâm sorry⊠Iâm so sorry, I didnât mean to upset them...â She apologizes sincerely, pacing back outside. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the fairies or make him upset. She just wanted to talk to him. âWhatâs your name?â She asked softly and tentatively, despite already knowing the answer.
âItâs um⊠H-Harry.â He stuttered a little, still intensely staring at her.
âHi Harry.â Y/N beamed at him, leaning against the entryway. âIâm Y/N.â
âHello.â Harry smiled back, albeit very shyly.
âI was enjoying hearing you read⊠you have a beautiful voice.â She commended, because for some reason it was easy to show fondness when he was so flustered. She just wanted to make him feel loved and appreciated from the inside out for no motive other than the fact that he was cute and skittish like a stray kitten.
Harry didn't reply, just looked down and smiled unsurely. âOkay, I'll leave you alone now. I hope I haven't upset you or your little friends too muchâŠâ Y/N voiced lowly, waving softly with her hand. âBye Harry.â
âDid you... did you like your magic tree?â He still asked before she could leave.
Y/N's heart jumped happily at the realization that she had been mistaken. He hadnât been planning on getting his tree back after all. âOh! I loved it. So, so much! I play with it before bed everyday, it helps me relax and sleep better.â
The wizard struggled to hide a blushing smile, nodding once at the revelation. There was something so endearing about Harry⊠Y/N couldnât quite pinpoint exactly what but he just carried such an appeasing aura around him. Strong enough to cloak the negative feeling that seemed to have been haunting her surroundings as of lately. She wonât lie and say she wouldnât like it better if Harry was more open to conversation, but the fact that he wasnât very talkative didn't change his appeal to her - he could be completely mute and her desire to spend time together with him would still hold up. Not only that but she had an inkling that he mostly kept to himself and didnât talk to many people in or outside the hospital (other than the absolute necessary) and although maybe he did like things to be that way, he didnât seem entirely put off by her effort to socialize⊠just a tad nervous. Y/N is thinking that perhaps he is just someone who needs a bit more time to unwind, and the prospect that other people might not have even gave him a chance to makes her a bit sad... because his presence was so pleasing and his eyes so expressive that even though he didnât speak, it felt like no words were amiss.
Forasmuch, Y/N resolves that as long as Harry doesnât show to be bothered by her attempts, she will continue to try and become friends with him.
**
And when she goes to sleep that night under the soft purply glow of her magic tree dome, Y/N holds on tightly to her new narwhal plushy⊠just the same as she does to the limns of a certain peculiar wizard swimming around her subconscious.
Maybe Y/N has got a bit of crush on himâŠ
A teensy-weensy bit of a crush.
Being in such a good sleep, the last thing Y/N expected was to be woken up from her peaceful slumber by a blaring alarm echoing throughout the hospital in the middle of the night.
Her confused head perks up, eyes going wide despite still burning from sleep. The room is still dark so she can make out the red blinking flashes glowing under the door breach closest to the floor.
What was happening? Was there a fire?
Her sluggish legs slither off the bed as fast as they can and head towards the couch in the dark, where she hurriedly put on her robe to top her summer pajama set that barely covered any skin before heading towards the door. She winced when the blinding lights of the hospital corridor and the noisy alarm ring clashed all her senses, making her feel rather disoriented.
There were several other disheveled heads like hers peeking out of their rooms, and this time there were two nurses in the front room, helping Mr. Hawk onto his wheelchair with much more urgency than last time sheâd seen it happening.
âWhat happened?â A witch with greyish hair and an unfriendly face questioned from her assigned room at the end of the hallway. âShould we just head back to bed or what? I have better things to do than to stand here waiting for answers.â
âWe want everyone out of their rooms.â One of the nurses clarified, looking rather shaken. âThere has been an attack, someone got injured. Please follow to the night station. Do it orderly please - you'll be safe there.â He added, before turning his back and hurrying to disappear behind the fire doors.
Y/N's face hardened in fear as she, along with everyone else, stepped out of the room and did as the man had instructed.
Something felt odd though.
There was this pulling, like a tugging sensation she felt in her gut, pressing her into taking another direction than the one the nurse had told them to go in. This sensation was also leaving her quite uneasy and overall worried over something â what was it?
Her head kept wondering, until she noticed something that caused each hair on her body to stand to the tips with stress - Harry wasnât in between the people occupying the night station. Where was he? Was he okay? Y/N didnât know - and for some reason that was making her heart drop and rush frightened at the same time. To the point where all she could do was squeeze the fabric of her shirt over her chest and feel afflicted, like someone might have just sliced her heart into pieces like an apple.
She really shouldn't let that affliction get a hold of her better judgement, but that was easier said than done when the esoteric part of her core kept screaming that something was wrong, and her mind kept taking her back to the greenhouse where she had last seen him â Had anyone known he was there in the first place? Had anyone remembered to go check?
An invisible connective string prompted Y/N to move away from her place and begin to break through the crowd, and before she could question your own actions, she was already back on the way towards the greenhouse. Double checking every corridor and doorway she came across this time, partly because she was searching for Harry, but mostly because she was rather spooked that everything felt a little too close to a horror movie. And the worst part was that if this was indeed a horror movie Y/N was watching and there was a character doing exactly what she was doing - walking around a hospital in the dark knowing damn well there has been an attack a little while ago - sheâd be rolling her eyes at the screen, knowing the dumb little person was about to die. And when they did, she wouldnât even feel sorry for them, because they had it coming all along by acting so fucking stupid!
And all because of a boy she hasnât even had a proper conversation with.
Y/N must have gone real sick in the head.
That would be the only explanation really.
Because fine, she might have thought Harry to be unbelievably cute and handsome but that alone couldn't be reason enough for her to be putting herself in danger for him, could it? No. This anguish was illogical - and no matter how hard she tried, she couldnât come up with a single commonsensical justification for why she would feel the need to go roaming a hospital in the dead of the night just to make sure he wasnât the person who had gotten injured, or worse... one other person who had gotten injured and hadnât been found yet.
But the closer Y/N got to the greenhouse the more it made sense, because she could feel this burdensome, painful energy steaming in the air. It wasn't as strong as what she had felt at the magic fair, but it somewhat reminiscent of that darkness that seeped through her pores and ate away any positive feelings she could have. That unconsciously made her quicken her step until she spotted the familiar bedroom-sized glass structure. The fact that the place was now in complete debris flew right over her head as soon as her eyes caught upon the fact that Harry was standing there alone - so far looking to be in good health.
âThank goodness! Youâre here!â The young witch exclaimed in relief, loping towards him and wrapping his body in what was probably a very startling, uncomfortable hug for him. âI was so scared! The nurse said someone had gotten injured and that we had to go the night station⊠and I noticed everyone else was there, but you werenât and I thought⊠I thoughtâŠâ Her voice dispersed into nothing when she realized Harry was hugging her back, but now his chest was shaking and there were hot spurts falling directly from the tips of his lashes onto the skin of her cheekbones. âWhatâs wrong?â
âThe fairiesâŠâ He spoke arduously in between sniffles. âTheyâve been cursed. All of them.â
âCursed?â Y/N asked, pulling away but letting her hands continue to have a hold of his arms. âHow do you mean?â
âI donât know, I- I casted a protective charm to keep them shielded from goblins and other evil creatures that could try to harm them...â He sputtered, trying his hardest to swallow the snivels. âThis never happened before⊠and now suddenly that Beldam witch is gone and-â
âThere was a Beldam witch staying at the hospital?â Y/N interrupted, staring at him in shock. Beldam witches were what people commonly referred to as wicked witches. Known for their practice of black magic and misdeeds and their desire to always do harm through their magic. For that reason, they didnât usually come around places with many people, let alone hospitals where they would have to be around other wizards and witches.
Harry nodded his head weakly. âWeâre a community hospital so thereâs all kinds of patients hereâŠâ He explained, hastily wiping his face clean and swallowing around a sorrowful hiccup. âShe hurt Mrs. Carrington... the Beldam witch who was hospitalized here, I mean. Her name is Lucinda Wolf. Sheâs known to be associated with some sinister stuff â like, black magic stuff.â
Y/N could feel his mournful energy making her chest tighten, in a similar way than it did that time Azura the cat mysteriously disappeared during her heat cycle, and she spent 4 days wondering if she was ever going to make it home again. âWhat happened to Mrs. Carrington?â The girl questioned apprehensively. âHas she been put under a curse too?â
Harry nodded his head and pawed at his eyes. âI'm not too worried about Mrs. Carrington, We've already medicated her and sheâs reacting well to the treatments. Iâm positive sheâll recover quickly, but the fairies... theyâre so small and this magic is so powerful⊠It makes me scared Iâll never be able to revive them.â He admitted wistfully as he stared out the window at the rainy nightscape that seemed to wail with grief along with him.
Although Y/N's knowledge on fae and eerie creatures is limited, she knows fairies can't be killed by force. They are one of the few magical entities that can only die of old age. However, alike all living beings, they arenât immune to getting bewitched against their will or tortured with wicked magic beyond remedy. That was the worst-case scenario that Harry feared. It was all he could think of, and although she too condemned any kind of harm done towards such pure and innocent creatures, her inductive mind was more preoccupied trying to join the dots.
The dark cloud, the continuous rainstorms, the serpent omens and now a hospital attack... It couldn't all be a big coincidence.
âThe fairy dust,â Y/N asked softly. âWhat can it be used for?â
âSo many things. I can't even list all of them, but when used for its healing powers, it can improve almost any remedy. That's why I keep them around the hospital. They love to help with the medications...â Harry explained slowly, his eyes fixed on the copper-colored sticky potion flowing from the broken flasks on the floor. âIt is also useful in transformation and reversing spells, power negation⊠It can nullify the power of magical objects and beings, including ours.â Y/N's lips parted in astonishment and concern. âItâs extremely powerful, and when used to commit the havoc, it can be disastrous...â
âYou mentioned that she was into dark stuff⊠do you think whatever reason that's behind her actions could be⊠not human?â
Harry nodded his head, taking another brief glance around the ravaged greenhouse. Then he squinted, noticing a fresh splatter of something on the floor that wasnât there before the attack. He crouched by it, took a broken branch and stuck it in the liquid, pulling it out to see the sticky texture that stretched with the movement of his arm. Slimy and glowing blue - Kelpie blood. Judging by the look in Harry's face, it was also his first time seeing it other than in books or internet articles. Kelpies were ghostly horse-like creatures. They are difficult to find since they inhabit mostly in secluded areas with shallow waters. In present times in the magic world, their blood could only be acquired through illegal trade due to threat of extinction of the sea hybrids species. For that reason, it was extremely rare and pricey, and often associated with the practice of black magic â and more specifically, summoning rituals.
That's a fact both Y/N and Harry are aware of, what made them exchange a knowing, slightly aghast look. âSomething was summoned here...â Harry stated lowly, although he knew his company had already reached the same conclusion. âI should have seen it coming. I should have known she was planning something. The bad weather, those spine-curdling feelings⊠Malicious magic always leaves a trail behind... a bad aura.â
âWait â a bad aura? Does that mean youâve felt it too?â
âI thought I was the only oneâŠâ
âHave you been seeing things also?â Harryâs eyebrows furrowed at the odd question before he replied by apprehensively shaking his head. âSorry, that -that probably made me sound like an absolute crazy⊠itâs just⊠there's some weird things I've been seeing, but itâs frustrating because I don't know how to interpret themâ
âI donât think youâre crazy.â He sooths her worriment. âI havenât seen anything weird myself, but I think Iâve witnessed something who didâŠâ
âWhat was it?â
âA week ago I went to the lake because I needed algae to make a remedy for marsh-leech bites and- there were some mushroom frog-fairies feeding by the water's edge... I was trying to be very quiet not to upset them,â Harryâs telling made Y/N's heart swell slightly. He seemed so sweet and caring over all the little beings⊠she couldnât even begin to imagine how bad he must be hurting over what happened â Y/N would never leave his side again if she could, and maybe thatâs a weird thing to think about a practical stranger but itâs honestly how she feels regards Harry. Not out of pity might she add, just because his presence feels makes her feel better for reasons unknown to her. âAnd then, suddenly I felt as if something evil was looming over my head. I couldnât see it, but when I peered at the fairies - they looked terrified. Jumping from their mushrooms and hiding underwater. Theyâre very discerning of these types of evil things, much more than us anyway⊠we tend to be a lot more unmindful and skeptic - can't see what you won't believe, right?â
âThat's the scariest part, I thinkâŠâ Y/N visibly shivered. âIt's making me feel all icky just thinking about it. That it could be right next to us and we still can't see it.â
âBut youâve seen it, right?â He asked. She nodded fleetingly. âSo then⊠does that mean youâre like⊠a psychic or something?â
Y/N huffed, shaking her head. âI mean⊠maybe technically but â this never happened to me before. Iâve always had sort of better intuition than most and if I receive any signs from the universe, theyâre small⊠and personal, if that makes sense. But ever since Midsummerâs Day Iâve been seeing and hearing things that other people canât and coming across some⊠scary omens.â
Harry scrunches his nose. âScary omens?â
âYeah, umâŠâ Y/N hesitated, remembering her friendsâ suggestion not to tell any of the people working at the hospital, but she didnât reckon Harry would be the most likely to question her sanity. His interest seemed genuine, and so did the soft gleam in his eyes. âEver since I came here, Iâve been seeing⊠a serpent symbol almost every night. My friends and I were researching about it and supposedly it is associated with darkness and um⊠evil witchcraft, I guess?â
âDuring the witching hour?â He questions her, looking rather stunned once she nodded affirmatively. âThat makes sense⊠itâs supposed to be the best hour for bidding evil things, isnât it? The thing is⊠Lucinda was being put under magic cancelling medicine every night during the witching hour, so-â
Y/N gasped as a memory from the first time she visited the hospitalâs witching hour station came back to her. âSo that was her? That kooky witch Mrs. Carrington was medicating at the night stationâŠ?â Harry looked at her, not knowing how to answer since he wasnât there to see it. âShe kept mumbling odd words to herself⊠I thought it was just crazy people gibberish but - what if she was already trying to do something back then? That was the first time I saw the serpent!â
Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. âShe was probably trying to make it stronger...â He said, prompting Y/N's brows to dip. âAllegedly, you canât summon a demon into our world without performing a physical ritual with the blood offerings and all that⊠however, the demon can still hear the calling of a conjuring spell⊠and it makes it stronger supposedly - something about showing devotion and whatnot.â Harry rumpled his lips, dumping his head just so he could stare down. âBut how? Lucinda was under that canceller⊠how could she get back enough power to perform a demon-summoning ritual?â
âThe fairies!â Y/N exclaimed, calling Harryâs attention, whose eyes jumped to bore into her face. âThatâs why she needed them! Didnât you say fairy dust could be used to reverse spells? Well, is it also strong enough to reverse a magic canceller?â
âOh my GodâŠâ Harry gasped at the realization, his body recoiling towards the floor as he buried his face in his hands. âThis is all my fault! Thereâs a demon out there and itâs my fault! I shouldâve never let the fairies stay at the hospitalâŠâ He mumbled, crushing his face deeper against his palms. âI thought- I thought I was doing something good because they were happy - and they loved their little house - and nowâŠâ His voice broke into a shaky breath, right before he sucked in a wobbly sniffle.
âHarry, no...â Y/N cooed sadly as she took a seat next to him on the floor. âYou did nothing wrong. None of this is your fault. Weâll fix it, okay? Curses can be undone, weâll just have to find the right antidote and, as far as the demon goes⊠well, I donât know about that part yet but Iâm sure weâll start figuring it out as we go.â
âWhy are you being so nice to me?â His question startled her a little, mostly because she hadnât been expecting him to be concerned with all those whys and wherefores that she couldnât even understand herself, let alone explain to him. âI appreciate it, I just donât understand- like, why youâre offering to help when you could simply⊠look the other way?â
âI donât know.â Y/N answered sincerely. âBut I donât think I have much of a choice when the universe keeps sending me these signs and demanding that I donât ignore them. Besides, Iâve always loved a good mystery... and when it comes to those, two heads always work better than one, right?â
Y/N and Harry spend all their time together now.
Commonly her mornings now consisted of waking up, having breakfast, doing her hygiene and going to meet Harry at the greenhouse. She liked to keep him company because well, heâs very nice and has lots of interesting books laying around but also because she knew he got upset having to work at the greenhouse now â since it was a constant reminder that his little creature friends were currently debilitated. The two of them had moved the fairy cottage onto the back and covered up its old spot in blooming stargazer lilies for the time being, in a conscious effort into try and trick Harryâs brain into not remembering so often. It made it a little better but on more than one occasion, when Y/N glanced up from the books of shadows she was reading (looking to find useful clues to unravel the mystery) she still found him with tears wallowing in his eyes.
Later they usually go to the cafeteria for lunch, which Y/N likes way better than eating alone in her room because she enjoys having (his) company and getting to choose the dish option she wants. Besides, there's always vanilla pudding! Her and Harry try the others sometimes but so far, that one remains both their favorite.
On the days Harry stays at the hospital until later, they have dinner together too. Now that Y/N is thinking about it, the only times they aren't in each otherâs company is when Harry is at home or doing errands outside the hospital â like going to the garden center or gathering his own plants. Itâs to the point that she gets stressed sometimes thinking she's overwhelming him, but then she remembers the one time she tried to leave him alone for a whole day, he appeared by her bedroom at twilight looking like an abandoned puppy asking if she was upset or didnât want to be friends anymore.
âI was talking to my doctor today and he said that supposedly I will be going back home in two days.â Y/N told him, doing a little happy dance in her seat. âI miss my cat so much! I canât wait to see her. Only I bet no one remembered to change her litter box while I was here so... more likely than not I'll be walking inside and finding cat poo all over my rugsâŠâ The corners of Harryâs lips upturned in a soft smile at her happy demeanor, but his face fell down towards his lap soon after. âWhatâs wrong?â She asked, leaning forwards.
âItâs nothing.â He tilted his head up slightly, but quickly dropped it again. âI guess I just⊠I almost forgot you were going to have to leave at some pointâŠâ
âYou going to miss me?â Y/N asked, making him nod joylessly. âI'm going to miss our days together too, but I was um... hoping you'd want to keep seeing each other outside the hospital?â She giggled when he perked up his face all frenzied just so he could look at her. âYou can come to my house whenever you want, even after we figure what's up with this black magic thing.â
âReally? You would like me to come to your house?â
âYeah? I mean⊠if youâre comfortable, of course. If youâre not, we can always arrange to meet somewhere else. I could also come here to visit sometimes if youâd like me to.â
âI would like that a lot. I just thought that maybe you only wanted to be my friend because you were staying hereâŠâ Harry said sincerely. ââcause Iâm sure you have other friends out there that should be more fun to spend time with, I guess.â
âWhy would you even think that? I love spending time with you.â Y/N replied, a bit whiny because really does enjoy every single moment she spends with Harry. Heâs very special to her⊠perhaps even more than he should be, taken the fact sheâs only known him for less than a week, but she sort of feels like theyâve bonded abnormally well - not only over the situation theyâre stuck in together but also over the little things that make them different from others their kind.
Y/N has secretly always felt a bit like an oddball due to her unusual abilities, but when she's with Harry she never feels that way⊠He has always been nothing but accepting and motivating of her being the way she is. On top of that, his personality is so likeable and engaging once you get past that brick wall of shyness⊠He has also got a sly tendency for accidental innuendos. Y/N knows they are accidental because of the way he stares at her when she starts laughing out of the blue at something he said. Then he mentally rolls back the tape and realizes, what usually ends in a shake of his head and the sputtering of something like âThe naughty little bugs never catch a break in that mind of yours, do they?â What never fails to make her laugh harder, despite it always leaving her cheeks tingly and warm.
âI like spending time with you too.â Harry said, smiling widely.
âOkay, thatâs good to know because I was actually planning on asking you to join me on something a bit⊠bizarre.â Y/N's words made him frown curiously, but he seemed eager enough. âHave you ever been to the normal part of Las Vegas?â
To put a long story short, that was how Y/N found herself trading the hospital pajamas for a top, cropped jeans, a leather jacket, and riding a bus a few miles across the country with Harry the following weekend. Who had also ditched his gardening apron for a pair of corduroy pants and a vintage hoodie whose color matched the mustard yellow of his skater shoes.
Y/N was surprised to find that his casual clothes made him look even more endearing than his work attire in her eyes â something she didnât think to be possible, until he showed up at the bus station looking like that â all cozy and folksy with his duffle bag perched over his shoulder.
It was a slow trip. Therefore, Y/N had been falling in and out of sleep throughout the second-half of it⊠until she finally woke up to surroundings of bright and colorful Vegas light signs, imposing casino and resort buildings with illuminated fountains upfront and promises of paranormal, mind-blowing shows at nearly every corner. She practically climbed over Harry's lap to get to the window, purposefully stirring him awake as well just so he could see it too.
The rest of the drive was made with both of them staring outside in awe and finger pointing the most compelling signboards and buildings, with big smiles painted on their faces as they began to discern the hurried reflexes of the cityâs exciting nightlife and luxurious looking architecture theyâd only ever seen on TV.
It was nice to get the chance to engage in typical tourist behavior and forget about the dark reality they had come for during the couple of minutes left inside the bus, and then the taxi that drove them up hills of palm trees and exclusive neighborhoods until they were reaching the entrance to the extravagant community aunt Rowena lived in. The houses were fit for kings and queens... with stone veneers, polished terraces, and glossy swimming pools.
The Monterey style villa in front of which the taxi stopped stood out of the many other giant houses. Built in the heart of a small forest of yucca plants and towering single trunk palm trees, it was painted in a pale shade of pink that contrasted greatly with the inviting turquoise pool flooring. Above the house's double entry doors, was an intriguing arched window - complemented by a round balcony with nature-inspired balustrades and a flower vase on each end. Y/N wouldâve believed she had gotten the wrong address from the white pages, if not for the mesmerizing figure of her aunt soon appearing from behind the front doors like sheâd been expecting a visit. A sly smile decorated her red-painted lips as she elegantly descended the stone steps of the front porch. The baggy pants of her white suit hugged her defined legs with every step she took, as did the fitted blazer she also wore. Unsurprisingly, Rowena had forgone the bra for the day, leaving her bare chest almost fully exposed, and only masked by the long, waved strands of black hair that fell towards her navel.
Y/N glanced at Harry, whoâs cheeks had turned scarlet, and neck was visibly gulping at the startling sight. The way most people got when they met the iconic Las Vegas fortune-teller. She was a very good-looking woman for her age - that was kept undisclosed for most, but Y/N knew she must've been approaching her 60âs by comparison to her momâs age. The TV star looks werenât all she got going for her though⊠even the way she carried herself demanded admiration and deference, her aura was invincible, sensual, and powerful. A true power-house she was.
âGoodness me! Look at you!â The witch came to greet her niece with open arms and a wide smile. âLooking more and more like your mother every time I see you!â She enveloped Y/N's body in a hug, before turning her attention to the boy standing beside her. âAnd you're partnered up already, I see...â
âOh! Harry and I are not⊠weâre just friends.â Y/N laughed a little, trying to ignore the way her cheeks now felt warmer.
Rowenaâs eyebrows shot up her forehead. âWell thenâŠâ Her mischievous eyes jumped between the two. âIâm certain the stars will do their trick when the right moment comes.â She stated conclusively, before moving on with the subject like she was completely oblivious to the way their lips pursed and their eyes widened in panic. âShall we go inside then? You shouldâve let me know what time you were coming; I couldâve sent one of my drivers to pick you upâŠâ
âYou knew we were coming?â Y/N asked surprised.
âOh dear, of course I didâŠâ The women said, like it was something to be expected. âMy finest guest room has been ready for days now...â She added as she welcomed the pair into her large living room, that truly didnât look like it was much lived in at all. - It was very Victorian styled⊠the furniture had ornate wooden carved embellishments, finished in gold leaf. The sofas were the color of blushing red, velvety and decorated with countless damask pillows, each with a different floral pattern. The central coffee table was marble topped, but its feet were adorned with the same golden wood present in the rest of the roomâs furnishing. Made from the same marble stone was the cornered fireplace, that happened to come alive with graceful, temperate flames with a mere flick of Rowenaâs hand as she walked through the door. The weather was too hot for any extra warmth to be seemly, but there was no denying that the sizzling background noise and the dim luminosity always felt rather nice.
âOh! We were actually planning on staying at this cheap motel we saw, thought we should spare you the trouble of-â Y/N timidly explained. It wasnât that the thought of spending the night at a luxurious mansion for free wasnât way more appealing than spending it at a ânot so cheapâ cheap motel room, on an overused bunk bed she might have to share with other strangers⊠it was that despite being family, she didn't really have enough trust with aunt Rowena to make herself a guest in spending the night at her house without prior invitation. She didnât even have her phone number! â And if her mansion hadnât once been part of one of those weird celebrity home tours, Y/N would've probably never found her aunt's address.
âNonsense darling, itâs my pleasure to have you.â Rowena smiled as she sat in one of the armchairs, gesturing for her guests to take the sofa seats. âYou are more than welcome to stay for as long as youâd like⊠I mean, look aroundâŠ! I own such a big mansion, itâs a shame thereâs usually no one around to enjoy it with me⊠aside from the occasional pool boy of courseâŠâ She winked at Harry, noticing his bashful demeanor upon hearing her suggestive revelation. Y/N opened her mouth to say the motel had already been booked, but Rowena stopped her. âDonât worry about your bookings, Iâll make sure they are taken care of⊠itâs the least I can do. And I can also assure you any room in this house is far nicer than the finest hotel room this city has to offer.â The witch informed, gracefully crossing her legs and lacing her manicured hands over the top knee, what brought Y/N to notice that the nail polish covering her long, rounded nails matched the scarlet shade of her lipstick. â⊠besides, Iâd love to spend some more time with you. Iâm aware you came to me for guidance, but I canât help but to wish to deepen our connection.â Rowena leaned forward, taking her niece's hands in hers. âItâs nice not to feel so⊠disparate inside my own family for once.â
Y/N nodded her head in understanding, looking away for a moment to check on Harry. She wanted to make sure he was also at rest with the sudden change of plans. âWould you like to stay, or would you prefer to keep to the original plan? Either is all right with me... I just want you to be comfortable.â
She could almost feel the nervous sweat that began to boil underneath his skin as soon as Rowenaâs attention focused on him. The poor thing used to fear speaking to her, who in terms of scare worthy, could probably compare to a fluffy pink teddy bear or something harmless like that⊠and, although Rowena was nothing like a scary swamp hag, she looked a bit intimidating for anyone as it was for being such a mighty, beautiful witch. Therefore, Y/N figured Harry should probably be feeling quite mortified having to speak in front of her. But he did. âIâm okay staying if you want to.â He spoke. It was low and almost incomprehensible, but both witches understood.
âThat settles it then.â The aunt chimed resolutely, slotting her fingers together blithely. âJust one more thing just so we can get this topic out of the way... my housekeeper only left one room prepared. The bed is double and quite spacious, but if youâd prefer separate rooms, that can also be arrangedâŠâ
Y/N's face felt like it was on fire as she span it to face Harry, but surprisingly he seemed rather unphased over having to share a bed. He even seemed... relieved? sort of - which she guessed wasnât so weird, after all if it were her in his shoes, she would certainly also prefer that over sleeping alone inside a huge house she didnât know. So, the real question was, why was she getting all hot and bothered over it?
It wasn't like she genuinely thought something was going to happen just because they were sharing a bed. They werenât horny teenagers, besides Harry was so⊠soft and innocent and genuinely good-hearted, that it was practically unthinkable that he would ever even think of looking at her in any way other than respectfully, let alone actually go and try anything... which was a little frustrating because Y/N kind of wished he would. She feels rather dirty and filthy for thinking of such a sweet human so inappropriately sometimes - for wondering what his body looks like underneath his clothes and wanting to explore his softest (and hardest) spots in a hands-on type of way. She shouldnât be thinking about it⊠and she definitely shouldnât be getting horny whilst sitting on her auntâs expensive Victorian couch neither, but oh well.
âIâm guessing your visit is related to your power progression, correct?â Rowenaâs question felt startling, prompting Y/N to jump a little in her seat before managing a brisk nod. âI see⊠I figured it was bound to happen soon. I was also in my twenties when my vision expanded. Pyramid Field, 1982⊠what a great psychedelic time that wasâŠâ The witch sighed at the considerably aged memory. âBut youâve always been a clever girl⊠so Iâm predicting your trigger was nothing like a trip on hallucinogens, was it?â
âNo.â The younger witch chuckled, shaking her head. âIt was last week, at the local magic fair.â Rowena nodded once, waiting for her niece to continue. âIâve been coming across some omens⊠and I was hoping maybe, you could help me figure what they mean becauseâŠâ She glanced at Harry for a moment. âStrange things have been happening back at home lately, and I was hoping maybe if I could learn how to interpret the signs, I would know what to do to prevent said things from happening⊠or how to fix them.â
âVery wellâŠâ The older witch rose, bringing her hands to her garment in a fluid motion to straighten it. âFollow me, then.â
Y/N promptly stood up after her, reaching behind for Harry so he knew she was expecting him to come along. He had gone a little wide-eyed in the meantime, as if second guessing if he was supposed to stay behind or not. To Y/N's surprise, he grabbed her hand. Gently cupping his fingers around her palm and not dropping even after he was standing next to her. Her back straightened from the unexpected contact - but she held onto his grip tighter.
âInterpreting omens is a lot more complicated than it seems at first sight⊠and learning how to do it requires a lot of patience and attention. Iâm sure youâve heard some of the folkloric classics - black cats, broken mirrors and suchlike thingsâŠâ Y/N spat a quick yes, desperately trying to focus on her aunt's words and not on Harryâs hand holding hers as they followed Rowena through the endless corridors of her mansion. âWell then, you can rejoice on the fact that those are anything but accurate. There is a distinctive energy to an omen, itâs weighty and almost⊠demanding of attention. It will speak directly to your soul. Bounding you to not only see it, but perceive it.â
Rowena led them into a room Y/N quickly assumed to be the one where she conducted her home-divination sessions. The room was bathed in a dark reddish light, which gave it a warm and mystical atmosphere. A sun-shaped structure decorated the center of the dark blue ceiling, surrounded by stars and plaster designs. In the corner, there was a lotus-shaped burner that scented the room with hints of spice and floral notes. The walls were crammed with bookshelves and open cupboards to keep crystal balls, charts for arithmancy and numerology, in between other items Y/N believed were there mostly to wow the non-magic costumers who frequented the room.
âOmens may come in billions of varieties, so itâs important to stay in touch with nature and seasonal changes, just so that you can identify behaviors that are out of the ordinary more easily.â Rowena grabbed a leather-bound book from one of her bookcases and carefully spread it open over her divination table. âAnd then there are the specific symbols, of courseâŠâ She explained, as she flicked through the pages. âA couple hundreds of them⊠but fairly easy to memorize with time.â
âJust to be sure⊠that is a serpent symbol right there, isnât it?â Y/N questioned, signaling the undulating, almost symmetrical symbol that stood out among the others to her.
âHave you seen it recently?â Rowena's posture was observant and concerned, which frightened Y/N more because it meant that the meaning Pam had found on the internet was probably not as far from being true as she would've liked it to be. A brief glance at the small-lettered description proved that fact â The same words: Chaos, corruption and darkness were printed in black smudgy ink. Tarnishing the white paper page just as that smoky gloom had tarnished the skies on that peculiar summer day of last week.
âIs black smoke an omen â like, as a thick dark mass that spreads but doesnât dissipate like normal smoke as it ascends? And also⊠a scream⊠of a woman, that makes it feel like your eardrums are going to burst?â Y/N was plenty aware that she was avoiding all answers and bombarding her aunt with more questions that probably only left her more confused and worried, but she needed to know⊠and Rowena was the only person she thought could provide her some clarification.
âWhen you see dark, more high-tightly compact smoke â a black shadow, so to say, it is usually a sign that there is a strong energy mass looming in the space around you. Usually, a non-human entity.â Y/N turned to look at Harry, noting his head had also lifted from the symbols of the Fortunes & Dreams bookpaper that he looked to be fascinated with to listen. She found it cute that he was interested in the symbols, despite the whole thing probably being quite bizarre and unbelieving from his outside perspective. There was no denying that the signs were adding up though⊠Sure, that non-human entity could have just been a vampire on the hunt. Their energy was similar in some ways to that of demons, but truly, with how close to the hospital was to the magic fair it was no less likely that the black shadow had something to do with Lucinda Wolfâs summoning attempts.
â⊠And the screaming?â
âThat should be a banshee wail.â Oh boy, Y/N already didnât like the sound of that. âItâs usually heard when someone is about to enter a dangerous situation where it is unlikely they will come out unscarred. Like the serpent symbol, it is a predictor of destruction and often⊠death.â A heavy silence settled itself in the room after the utterance of that word â how could it not? â Y/N, you know Iâm not usually nosy but I fear I have no choice but to ask - have you been messing with anything you shouldn't? Perhaps with the wrong people or playing one of those foolish games to contact the afterlife?â
Y/N's head shook pressingly. âNo. I havenât. I swear! I know this all sounds worrying, but please... donât go to my mom about it.â Rowena pursed her lips, like she had already been contemplating on that idea ahead of mention. âI'm old enough to take care of myself, and so is Harry. We are plenty aware it's going to be dangerous to follow these signs, and that theyâre most likely connected to dark stuff, but we canât just look the other way... not when beings are getting hurt and my ability keeps asking me to do something about it as well.â Y/N paused in conversation. âSpeaking of⊠you donât happen to know any good demonologists, do you?â She asked asudden, hoping that by giving Rowena something to mull over, she would divert her mind away from all the burdensome things said before.
That was the good thing about aunt Rowena...
She was a bit scatty.
âDemonologistsâŠâ The woman squinted slightly as she thought it over. âI believe I have a close friend whoâs considered an expert in the matter.â She said, leaving the room and wandering around the house in search for something.
Y/N was surprised that it worked, to be honest. Mainly because if it had been her mother in her place, she wouldâve unquestionably wanted to know exactly what happened, to whom, where, why and how â and most of all, why was her loving, good-hearted daughter suddenly getting involved in such dark matters of magic.
Y/N always had a feeling that her aunt was less restrictive in the sense of believing there is good magic and forbidden magic, so perhaps she didnât really see anything wrong with demonology work â besides, even if her and Harry were going to have to dab a bit into black magic when it came to banishing Lucinda Wolfâs demon back to hell, it wasnât like they were suddenly going to turn evil and start craving to open portals and invite demons into the world, was it?
Y/N and Harry followed behind the older witch in silence, pausing at the entrance of what they assumed to be the houseâs master bedroom, where Rowena was picking up an object from one of the bedside tables. An old fashioned address book. âHe goes by the stage name of Lord Darkmore here in Las Vegas, but his first name is Bellamy - make sure to refer to him as such when you approach himâŠâ She spoke from the interior of the room as she scrambled through the pages of the book in her hand. She was out of their line of sight now, but Y/N could hear her tearing up a clean sheet of paper and scribbling down with a pen before she walked to the door and handed it to them. âDonât forget to tell him it was Rowena who sent you, otherwise he might take you as imposters and morph you into a pair of three-legged toads.â She smirked at their mortified expressions. âThe curse would only last for a couple of hours, of courseâŠâ
Their faces went a little open-mouthed, not knowing if she was joking or not, but too afraid to ask further. âNow if youâll excuse me, my darlings⊠I would love keep you company, but itâs way past my bedtime...â The witch said, although it wasnât later than 10pm. âMake yourselves comfortable while Iâm gone. If you need anything, for the love of God, donât stir me awake to ask â help yourselves to whatever you want. There is plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen and different bedding options in your room. Enjoy the outdoor bar, the pool, and the hot tub if youâd like. If you break anything just throw it away, I truly couldnât care less⊠in fact, thereâs only one crucial thing I ask of you,â She paused, gathering two inquisitive gazes. âPlease make use of the recycling bins. Itâs good for the environment â Goodnight. See you in the witching hour.â
Before their mouths could form a reply, the double doors of the master bedroom clinked shut and Rowenaâs figure was closed off behind them, leaving Y/N and Harry speechlessly staring at one another. âSoâŠâ Y/N started invitingly. âDo you want to go play bartender and swim in the pool before we get turned into toads?â She proposed blindly, guessing that despite everything going on, Harry too wouldnât want to skip the opportunity of enjoying the refreshing, chlorinated water of a private pool on a torrid summers night, apace with a fancy bar drink.
"Are you scared about what my aunt said?"
"Dunno." Harry shrugged as he fiddled with the bow strings of his swimwear. He had kept the t-shirt he was wearing earlier but changed his pants for a pair of yellow swim trunks. They were a little shorter than the most common, ending mid-thigh and rising even higher whenever he sat down â a fact that certainly didn't go unappreciated inside Y/N's head. "I'm okay now... a bit nervous about tomorrow just 'cause we don't know how that's gonna go. I think part of me is scared the demonologist's going to say there's nothing we can do about the demon..."
Y/NÂ has half the heart to scold him for being so pessimistic, but she would be acting like a hypocrite if she pretended that exact same fear hadn't crossed her mind at least half a dozen times already. It makes her curse at herself for being so uninformed over evil spirit matters. Because if she knew how summoning circles worked, maybe both wouldn't be stressing so much about it now. Of course, she had heard about demons and dark magic before, but it had admittedly always been a very shushed topic inside her household... and if she ever did ask about it, the only explanations she got came in very brief descriptions, that were immediately followed by the judging questions: "Why are you asking?", "Why do you wanna know?" â All that to say that her knowledge in the matter is lacking â probably in the same way most people's knowledge in hacking computers and bitcoin is â everyone's heard about it and knows it happens but have little to no idea of how it's done or how it actually works.
"I'm sorry." Harry rumbled deep in his chest, glancing up from his cup with a sympathetic smile.
"What are you saying sorry for silly?" The witch asked amidst a giggle, persuading one out of Harry as well. "Anyway... enough with the bad stuff. How's my concoction ranking so far - Is it good?"
"Mm, it's okay... still not as good as the one before though." He simpered, referring to the frozen strawberry daiquiris Y/N had made roughly 20 minutes prior. They had been dangerously easy to drink despite the amount of booze in them, tasting and looking just like a slushy â served in a fancy martini glass.
The girl scoffed, taking a test sip of her most-recent pineapple gin invention. "That's because you don't like the actual beverages - you just like the sugar in them." She added as she stepped from behind the bar with her drink in hand and walked back to the poolside, so that she could sit down next to Harry on the deck and dip her feet into the ripped water. Like she had been doing before he started making eyes at her and asking if she wanted to go make more drinks.
"Maybe..." He spoke between nibbles on the paper straw. "The pineapple tang in this one is good though. I like the way it feels when it rubs against my tongue â makes it throb but at the same time, I keep wanting to come back for more."Â Y/N choked on her drink, tittering between coughs that left Harry puzzlingly staring at her. "What?"
God â him and his bloody innuendos! Y/N doesn't have a purity kink but geez, does she want to corrupt his innocent mind a little sometimes...
"Nothing. It's nothing."Â Y/N shook her head, clearing her throat and carefully placing the cocktail glass on the floor. "Alright, I'm gonna go in." She said, getting up and hastily removing the beach dress she had thrown on over her swimsuit. It was nothing too sensual or revealing â a simple but flattering one piece in the color of deep sea green, with contrast stitching, and a keyhole back. She caught Harry eyeballing her as it came into view, but his eyes fled off as quick as they came in turn for taking another slurp at the drink in his hand.
Y/NÂ chose to enter the pool through the Baja shelf, making use of her cupped hands to spritz her upper body as she gradually descended the steps until her feet were touching the pool floor. The water didn't sting as cold as she had been expecting it to, but it was still chilly enough to provoke goosebumps on her arms and legs in juxtaposition to the pleasant temperature outside. Soon enough she had fully soaked beneath the moon bathed waters, ducking under them only to emerge right next to Harry's swaying legs. The tipsy child in her had been aiming to jump him, but that didn't work, so she rested her chin over one of his knees and started plaguing him to join her instead. "Come swim with me..." She asked, sticking her lip out a little.
His reply came with a nose scrunch. "Mm... the water might be too cold for me, I think."
"It's not! I thought so too but it feels really nice after you're in." She swore, pushing her feet on the wall space between their bodies to propel herself backwards to the center of the pool. "Please?! I feel very lonely here without you!"
"But I'm right here?!" Harry chuckles and sucks on his straw again, before resenting to place his glass down next to hers to get back on his feet. "If you've lied to me about the water, I'm going to be very upset..." He joshes upon noticing his friend's pout had morphed into a triumphant grin as soon as she realized she had managed to persuade him â right as she witnessed him pull his shirt over his head and throw it on one of the sunbeds.
His torso being spangled in permanent ink was a surprise - that managed to take her breath away for a moment or two.
Maybe she should've seen it coming since he had practically a full sleeve of tattoos in him... but he had never mentioned having more. Not even that time she asked if she could run her finger over one of the newer ones to feel the little scar bumps. Y/N had always enjoyed doing that to Axl's and Margery's tattoos, but the skin on Harry's arm felt so much softer and reactive â with the hairs in it rising above the surface by their own in response to the gentle brushes of her fingertip. The delicate motifs of his tattoos made sense in his body - flora and fauna themed pieces scattered evenly across the skin. Her favorite had to be the large butterfly on his stomach, or the ferns that spread out like wings across his hips - those were naughty.
"I'm even gonna go for a plunge, just cause I trust you so much." Harry snickered, hollowing out his cheeks and swaying his body before throwing himself into the pool. Y/N let out a petite squawk over the impact, that splashed her face and chest with an array of unlooked-for splurs of water. Once Harry came up from the dive, he looked like a gorgeous merman - with viscous locks clinging to his neck and shoulders and drizzly skin that scintillated under the landscape lighting like it was covered in rhinestones.
At least, until he stood on his feet and his body began to shiver from chilliness.
Then he was back to being her Harry again.
"Cannonballing was not a sensible move." He grumbled between jittery teeth, enclosing himself in his own arms. "Nor was listening to you! It's freezing in here..."
Y/NÂ couldn't not laugh at his grumbling as she swam over to him. "Come here." She called, grabbing his hands, and pulling both of them towards the deeper end of the pool. "Oh! I'm about to be out of my depth, I think..." She whooped as she began to feel her body sinking further â now having to stand on her tippy toes to keep her head above water.
"Hold on to me until we get to the edge then."
Now, Y/N was completely aware that "hold on to me" is not the same thing as "koala bear hug me" but that last option was what she ended up doing anyway. Her hands clasped onto his shoulders as she submerged vertically. Then she kicked up her legs and bundled them around his waist. Harry was visibly taken by surprise by this but he took the intrusion nicely... using his arms to keep the Y/N flush against his chest as he carried her towards the pool's edge.
The air was imbued with laughter and rippling sounds caused by the agitation that broke through the calm water flow. Ultimately, Y/N felt her back graze against the unpolished edge of the pool, letting her know she had reached her ultimate destination. "There you are... totally safe from drowning now." Harry smiled assuredly, clamping one of his hands on the border, while his other still lingered securely around her waist, waiting for her to slide off his lap.
She didn't want to though.
And now her heart was hammering inside her chest at the realization of just how close he was - how sea foamy and dazzling his eyes looked â and how pink, curvy, and entrancing his mouth was.
She could tell she had been staring longingly at his face for a while, but he was staring at hers just the same. Surprisingly, it wasn't weird at all though. It was quite a beautiful moment, being honest â with the sweeping water burbling around their bodies and the starry sky subsisting above their heads.
"Can I kiss you?"Â Y/N asked, nuzzling Harry's face and combing his damp locks back at the same time, just so they weren't covering his beautiful eyes. His lips parted, like he was about to ask her to repeat that, but the way she was grinning giddily and running her thumbs over his cheeks spoke louder than words. "I've been wanting to for a while... but I get nervous. Can never muster the courage to ask."
"Are you really serious?" He asked incredulous. She nodded. "I-um... wow - this feels like a dream." Harry's eyelids went a little droopy, but the smile in his face was stretching beyond his control. Wider and brighter than Y/N could ever predict it would be able to go. "Like the best dream ever."
"It's not a dream..." She shook her head, presenting him with a big grin that he returned easily. There were splattering water beads still running down his face, and the particular one that her eyes had been keeping track of had just slid over his cupid's bow and evanesced right bellow his upper lip. "I really want to kiss you..." She muttered, feeling rather short-winded as she brought her pointer finger to his pillowy mouth and patted it lightly. "Can I?"
"I want to kiss you so bad... it's just- I've never â um..." Harry enlightened shyly, unthinkingly trying to hide his face like he was embarrassed to admit it. "Will you tell me if I'm not doing it right? I probably won't be like... very good at kissing, I think."
His doubting paired with his eagerness made Y/N giggle a little. "You're silly, did you know that?" She smiled, stroking her thumb across his jaw a couple of times, hoping it would help calm his nerves. She parted her lips to comfort him with a few words of assurance, but at the end decided to save her breath for something better.
Slowly, she bowed forwards just so her lips gently collided with Harry's. Her fingers still cradling his jaw, petting the skin near his ear reassuringly as her mouth pulled back only to come back for more. This was, hands down, the best kiss Y/N had ever experienced - no need tongue, spit-exchanging, lip biting or any of those things that usually make for the most unforgettable kisses. Those things are great, yes, but the frenzied sensations that lodged in Y/N's chest the second her mouth touched Harry's only made it even clearer that anything she could ever do with him would always be beyond question unmatchable. It didn't matter that his kissing ways were simpler than others she'd felt before, his mouth felt so much better. She wanted to have him forever. No one else would ever suffice that craving inside her chest, only Harry.
Once her lips parted from his mouth, it was with a wet gasp. But she didn't move away, she continued to stare at his face and touch it lovingly. His eyes were glossy, his lips had silken and gone ruddier from the contact, what only made her want to kiss them more. "Did you like that?" She probed, just to make sure.
"It was... amazing." The boy admitted, attempting to hide his flushed face against her shoulder. "Can we do it again?"
Y/NÂ chuckled at the question. "Anytime you want to."
"Anytime for tonight or...?"
"Tonight... tomorrow... the day after..." Her lips started travelling up his jaw, dropping the softest kisses in their wake until they held themselves just before his own. "Do you want to kiss me more?"
"Please?"
**
Showering before bed was forgotten somewhere in their subconscious - as the two fell asleep on top of the bed linen with their dampish swimsuits still on, limbs pleasantly entwined and the silliest suppressed smiles on both their faces.