Demon Y/N (Patreon)

Okay, well thanks to my little hiccup this weekend plus three tests sand a paper, I didn't get to write a blurb, however I do have what I did write of the short-lived demon y/n! If you like it maybe I'll bring it back soon as a full one-shot :) 

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i.

Admittedly, it was a terrible idea.

Had Harry spent a good ten minutes complaining to Niall about the report he had write for his folklore class? Yes, but he'd merely been venting. Sometimes it makes it a little less hard to stomach writing a five to seven page essay when he's able to moan and gripe about the research, the outline, and the actual writing of the essay for a little while. Niall's participated plenty of times with Harry calling, whining about a test, paper, quiz, or just homework in general, giving him a good dosage of, "You're professor's a fucking arse! Who're they t'make you do anything?" that Harry believes every college student needs to hear so they don't fell like a whiny brat, and then he goes and does what he's supposed to. That's always how he'd done it, from the moment he and Niall had been comfortable enough to facetime with one another after meeting in their PSYCH 101 lecture, bonding over a mutual hate for black olives on pizza. 

Never had Niall knocked on his door forty minutes later, with a pizza, beer, and an old book that borderline looks like a relic.

"I've got the answer to all of your problems." 

Why was Harry in a folklore class in the first place? He couldn't tell you. Being a pre-law major one would expect that he wouldn't have time for classes like that, but it fulfilled one of his credits, his advisor was getting on his arse about it, and it seemed like the least boring class of the bunch. And it wasn't boring at all! Really, apart from his law classes, it was some of the most interesting stuff he'd ever learned about in a Gen-Ed, but it was a fuck-ton of work to put into something that wasn't even aiding his major. Which is why the prospect of this paper seemed more damning to him than annotating a court document and writing a three page analysis on the decision making. 

The assignment was simple enough, just a research project over one of the theological demons they had gone over this semester. They didn't get to pick their own (something about being able to write about things they might not be interested in, and how this will be beneficial to their real life because "you won't always get to write things that you particularly want to write"), they went up and picked from a fishbowl. Harry was one of the first to go, plucking up the piece of paper folded into a square and opening it to reveal Asmodeus, one of the seven princes of hell, who specialized in spreading lust. He'd not been bothered by it -- when he told his shoulder buddies what he'd gotten, both had seemed equally jealous so he figured it was a good one compared to some of the others. But the thought of actually  starting the project seemed like hell in itself. 

So that's why is interest was piqued when Niall appeared, plopping the pizza down first, the beer second, and the book -- with a hearty thud -- on the coffee table, slipping his backpack off his shoulders, "Wha's that?" Harry questions him, pulling up at his side with his mouthwatering at the smell of what he knew was three cheese garlic with alfredo sauce, "Looks like a book of spells." 

Niall cracks a beer open with the bar key on his keychain, pocketing the cap and taking a swig, "Keen eye on you! It is," he points at it, "Remember when my roomie said he had a girlfriend really into witch-y shit? Demons and all too?" Harry nods and the grin spreads wide over Niall's cheeks, "This is hers." 

"She just let you take it?" Harry asks, intrigued as he runs his thumb over the thick leather bound book, cover a bit scuffed and worn. 

"Well. . ." he trails off and Harry shakes his head. 

"You didn't!" He exclaims, "Niall --" 

"I know, I know! She left it at our flat n'I jus' took it for a bit." He cracks open the book, showing off the yellowing pages, "But here's my theory. We summon the demon that you're doing your report about, n'then you can just ask him a few questions and it'll be a breeze writing the paper." 

Harry deadpans him, rolling his eyes, "Ni, none of this stuff is real," he tells him, "I might as well just start then, rather than wasting time." 

Shaking his head, Niall flips the page to one labeled Contents, "This is where you're wrong Mate. His girlfriend summons the non-dangerous ones all the time, and with some Googling I've found he's light-hearted and playful as long as you bring an offering." He reaches for his bag, unzipping it and reaching in, hand re-emerging with a pair of dice, "Saw he liked dice too. Plus, does it hurt to try?" 

When Niall has his mind set to something, he has his mindset and it's best not to fight him on it, so Harry sighs and nods his head. He was right -- did it hurt to try? Worst comes to worst then it doesn't work and he spends the rest of the night eating pizza, drinking some, then maybe starting the researching portion, or he could take a bath with lavender bubbles up to his neck before going to bed. Inevitably starting tomorrow morning with a pout on his mouth. 

So he watches as Niall flips to the near middle of the book, where there's a short synopsis of Asmodeus, labeling that he's a more obscure demon not often discussed, and a little anecdote of what Niall had said, playful, light-hearted, an offering is a must -- he likes dice. Following this was a series of words, presumably latin, and how to say them, along with a picture of what might be conjured up whether it be a faceless voice or the actual creature himself. Harry thinks if this does work, he'd much rather have the faceless voice. 

He dims the light (by that he means turns off the overhead light and turns on his lamp), and recites the mantra with Niall as it's written, while simultaneously grabbing a slice of pizza. Once they've finished, they wait.

And wait. . .

And wait. . .

And --

"Well fuck," Niall leans back into the couch, "This is a piece of shite then I guess, my bad Haz." 

Harry sighs again, swallowing the mouthful of dough and cheese before responding, "S'fine, we tried and that's all that really matters innit?" He reaches for his remote, "I'd much rather watch Law & Order anyways and work the cases." 

Groaning, Niall tips back his head, letting the nozzle play at his lips, uttering just before he takes the drink. 

"You're such a fucking nerd." 

                                                                       .                            .                         .

Niall left after two episodes and five pieces of pizza each later, and Harry is forcing himself to clean up so he doesn't walk out to a mess (somehow whenever Niall comes over his living room turns into a disaster). He's taking the pizza box, filling it with the paper towels, and collecting two of the bottles between his fingers to the kitchen so he could at least place them near the waste bin, when there's a knocking on the door. His brows dip in, considering the only person who would swing by this late would have been Niall, but he was just here and as far as Harry knew he didn't leave anything behind. This left two other possibilities: the neighbor, Miss. Martha requesting that he come catch a spider for her, or his other neighbor Adam, asking to borrow a condom to which Harry gives him one and stresses it's not borrow, Adam, you take it -- please don't give it back. 

Once he sets all of his things down, he makes his way towards the door, peering through the peephole and. . .and then he's confused. It's neither Adam, nor Miss. Martha -- it's a girl. Harry unlocks the door, wrapping his fingers around the knob, twisting it open, "Hi," he begins as he takes her in, seeing as she's chewing on what appears to be a burger in her hand, looking away from him in favor of checking out the contents of her sandwich like she'd only just seen it. She was in jeans and a thin t-shirt, despite the nipple biting weather outside, which only furthers his confusion, "Can I help you?"

Her eyes blink up to him, and after she swallows, she gives him a smile, "Hi," she responds, before easily pushing past him easily, "I've only got a few hours, so lets get this over with. M'right tired."  

Confusion twisted up on his face, Harry turns to her, "What? Who are you?" He asks to which she drops down on his couch, looking in particularly cross and Harry wonders if Niall had slipped something into the pizza or not as she huffs exasperatedly. 

"Of course!" She rolls her eyes, "I should expect as much from the likes of you -- summoning a demon and forgetting about it." Taking another bite of her burger, she goes on to say, "Typical; so annoying." 

Harry swings the door shut, "Um. . .is this a prank?" He asks, "Did Niall send you over here?" 

Puzzlement over takes her, brows dipped, "Who?" She questions, and Harry's stomach drops, body tensing, "You summoned me, why're you looking so scared? Did y'a think I wouldn't show up?" 

His mind is reeling and he'd blame it on the alcohol had he not only been pleasantly buzzed earlier on, not black out drunk enough for this fantasy to conjure up. He racks his brain for a reasonable explanation, coming up with nothing apart from a prank, but she looked so genuinely confused when he had mentioned Niall. What if. . .could she truly be. . .no! No, that wasn't real -- none of that's real, that's why it's so entertaining and not scary instead. 

"The demon we summoned was. . .was much different," he adds, because that's true -- he had the face of a bull, a sheep, and a man. Certainly not a soft eyed girl, with hair pulled away from her face, and a burger in her hands.

It was a pretty good question he had thought, until she rolls her eyes once more at him, "Asmodeus was busy -- he's a prince of hell don't you know?" He nods, staring wide-eyed, "I'm one of his underlying's. We share all the same memories and most of the same powers, depending on what you need me for." 

"How do I know you're not fucking with me? That this," He waves his hands around, "Isn't just some elaborate thing Niall did to get a rise out of me?" 

She deadpans him, "Listen, the last Niall I've spoken with was sent to hell for digging up dead bodies and he surely has more on his plate than to try and trick you. Especially since he's been there since 1904." Setting the burger down on the table, she swipes her hands clean, "Want me to prove it?" Harry nods, wondering -- if this was just some stupid joke -- what she could possibly come up with to "prove it" or if the whole thing would crumble beneath his request. Not only is she no faceless voice, or as the pictured had described Asmodeus to be, but she knocked on the door. What kind of demon knocks on the bloody door? He more so expected the latter, waiting patiently as she took a deep breath, murmured something low enough that he could only make out the sound and not the words and then. . .

And then she disappeared? 

With the blink of his eye, she was gone. No magician smoke to trick him, or any possibility she'd hidden without him seeing it, nor any places for her to really hide. 

"Boo." Is said right into his ear and he startles so much he was just a tick away from jumping from his skin, head snapping around to see that she was now besides him, dusting herself off, "Thank god that worked. Tried to manifest here before, ended up in your neighbor's apartment and gave him a right scare."