Demon Harry Christmas-y (kinda!) (Patreon)

Hello! It's as Christmas as it can get for a demon and his sweetheart :-) 

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Y/N hadn’t particularly imagined that her holiday season would be spent with a demon, nor had she imagined that one of the nights she had planned to snuggle with Harry and watch a Christmas movie (something she’d been planning on tricking Harry into), she would instead be in a very dark, very cold park. 

Harry had been more than against the idea of using her as bait, outraged in every sense of the world, inforcing to those in charge that this would be inimical to her best interests. “She’s a bleeding human, Jeff! For fuck sake, she shouldn’t be involved in this, I’ll tell those stupid fucks myself.” However, whoever it had been suggesting that she be the one who lures a particularly pesky demon that was so keen on the scent of other demons, it was able to avoid Harry at all costs. It was apparent though, that Y/N had an incredibly tantalizing scent that was strong enough to mask Harry’s. Of course it would include something of a cleansing ritual, considering the one they had done to coat her in Harry’s scent so that she was safe from all things unholy, which was another thing Harry had been very much against. 

Though the idea of it was frightening, Y/N wanted to help in every way she could. Especially since it was stressing Harry out to the extent that he was strolling in at 2AM, far past when Y/N had fallen to sleep, and when she would wake up in the mornings he’d be gone as well. It was frustrating, even more so given that it was the holidays, and she wanted to spend time with him while she was out of class. If being human bait was the only way to bring the stupid bastard out in the open, then she would do it -- again, much to Harry’s dissatisfaction. 

So here she sat, in an abandoned park, toeing quietly at the crunchy snow in the silent night acting as casual as she could to be a human just alone at night. She scrolls through her phone, thankful for the gloves she wears that cover up the fact that she’s trembling, not only from the cold, but from the fear that dribbles in down her spine at every noise. Despite knowing that Harry is nearby and would never let anything happen to her, the last time she’d been alone with a demon other than him, she’d ended up with a nasty gash in her arm, and a thin slivered scar that Jeff’s medicinal creams were getting rid of blip by blip. There was a chill within her far past that of just the air surrounding her, heart hammering, a cold sweat building at the back of her neck, breathing shaky -- she probably seemed like a tasty treat sitting here. Hopeless and open. 

They’d been out here for two hours -- Harry said if it reached three, that he would call it off himself and they would find a different method because, “I am not putting you in this type of danger ever again.” Yet it would appear that this wouldn’t be the case, because a twig snaps behind her and her head snaps around, coming face to face with a demon disguised as a friendly man -- they’d told her what he would look like. Dark brown hair, equally dark eyes, in nothing but a thin jacket and a knitted hat; he would be disgustingly genial, force her into a sense of calm before striking.

“Hey there,” he began, a small, welcoming smile, “Are you okay? It’s too cold for a pretty little thing like you to be out.” 

Y/N swallows down the disgust, faking a tiny smile of her own, “I’m fine, yeah. Just needed to sit and think for a little while.” 

He nods, slipping around the bench so that he could sit besides her, scooting up close to her, “Penny for your thoughts?” 

Clearing her throat, she conjures something up, “Me and my boyfriend are fighting a bit -- he’s never home anymore.” She sighs, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, nipping at it, “Just don’t know if he feels the same way as when we started being together.” Y/N is dredging this all up from the depths of nowhere. She knows full and well that Harry loves her, and that it isn’t his fault he’s not coming home, and they aren’t fighting at all even -- but she still feels guilty for bringing that up. Hopes that Harry knows that she doesn’t think that. . .that she’s only doing it to keep the demon occupied. 

“Sure shame,” he answers, scooting a little closer to you, “He’s a bloody idiot for ignoring you, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, and Y/N jumps when a very cold hand reaches out to brush the hair from her neck, running the pads of his fingers against the skin, heart racing, “And this neck. . .so smooth.” 

Y/N shrugs away from him, “Don’t touch me,” she huffs, and his brows furrow, eyes pooling into endless black in his anger as he grabs at her bicep, pinching his nails through the thick of her coat, just barely skimming her, “I said don’t touch me!” She shouted, cranking her bicep so hard to the side that his wrist bent uncomfortably before reaching around with her other hand, tucked in a fist for a punch at his jaw.

Before things could get too ferocious, Harry appears like a flash of lightning, grabbing the demon by the back of the neck and tearing him away from her. He pulls him towards his ear, voice low, and growling, “Putting your hands on her was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. I think I’ll like taking destroying you most.” 

She looks away, shutting her eyes tight as she hears the scrabble and ruckus of Harry doing whatever it is that he does to these creatures. Deep in her being she knows that it’s good -- he’s only hurting someone who hurt others, what he’s doing is a good thing. However, she doesn’t want the image of him doing this to taint the pure one that she does have of him -- of soft hands, gentle hands, and tender eyes that wish her sweet dreams as he tucks his face into the bed of her throat. The low thrumble of his purrs soothing her as they sit, or the way he teases her lowly while they’re out and about, or how he pops up behind her when she’s on campus and though he scares the hell out of her (and giggles terribly about it) he presents her with lunch, often homemade, tied up in a little bento box. 

So, Y/N waits until the sounds of scrambling and crunching snow ceases, and even then she keeps her eyes skewered shut, until the gentle call of her name drags her from her thoughts, “Y/N, Love, it’s okay -- I’ve finished.”  She blinks her eyes open against the dark, seeing the dark, black blood amongst the pale snow, but Harry seems untainted by any of it. Not even a spot of blood is on his skin, which is equal parts confusing and relieving. Her eyes are skating around, searching for something out of the ordinary, however she finds nothing. He slips up to her, his hand sliding to the side of her throat, holding it and looking around with a furrowed brow, “My poor pup, how dare he touch you so familiarly, and now his sordid scent.” 

Leaning in, he sniffs at her throat closely, a low growl rumbling his throat, “Come now, Jeff will clean this mess. I’ll take you home.” 

                                                      .                              .                             .

Harry was adamant in making sure she was well there after, which she had expected to some degree, but not at the extent in which he worked. It had been clear from the beginning that he hadn’t been okay with her getting involved, no matter the fact that he caught the creature, he still grumbled his complaints as he guided her home with his arm slung around her protectively, holding her close. Didn’t leave her side for even a moment, leading her to the bathroom (with only a moment to say hello to her bunny Gremlin), where he only lets go of her to turn the water on. 

It’s then, when he’s preoccupied preparing a bath, she gets a good look at herself in the mirror and further understands his anger. There are four, jagged, dark stripes of black inking her skin where the creature had touched her throat. Reaching up slowly, her fingers are inches from touching them when Harry’s hand comes suddenly, clapping around her wrist to stop her, “Do not touch it.” He warns her gently, “I will get rid of it in the bath -- along with that wretched scent. And you will drink this,” he offers her a small little vile, colored bright red, and upon seeing her confusion, he continues, “It’ll wash you out -- make sure that it’s touch didn’t infect anything. It will make you feel like you’ve indulged in a cocktail or too.”

After Y/N tosses it back, face scrunching up at the bitter taste, Harry works carefully on ridding her of her garments. Starting with the hem of her shirt where he curls his fingers and draws it upward, encouraging her to raise her arms to ease him removing it. It leaves her in a bra that he swiftly reaches behind her to unlatch. This leaves her torso bare to him, the moment feeling incredibly intimate as he only takes a moment to gaze upon her breasts before moving on. Deft fingers work on the button and zipper of her jeans, his thumbs tucking beneath both the waistband of her pants and panties, wriggling them down her thighs, then her legs, placing her hands on his shoulders as he aided in her drawing her ankles from it. 

When he stands, Y/N stares at him all moony like -- something about this moment is making her feel proper mushy, as his fingers slowly slip down from her shoulder, down her triceps, to her elbow and then her hands as he led her to the tub. The water is colored an opaque, milky blue that steams and smells of mint, frothy bubbles around the edges. She sinks into it slowly, finding that he’d filled it so it went just at the midline of her breast, watching as Harry rolls the sleeves of his shirt upward. A pure white cloth is what he has in his hands, dunking it into the hot water as she turns her body carefully in the water to face him. Harry pays no mind to her sloshing, simply reaching into the bath for her arm and taking it out, rubbing the cloth in circles beginning at her hand and ascending upward. 

She watches as he works diligently, brows seeming permanently knitted as he “cleansed her from that filth” (his words, not her own, though she doesn’t disagree that it had been disgusting). Maybe it was just her feeling mushy, or maybe it was how gentle and careful he was being with her, or maybe it’s just simply the holiday season getting to her, but she can’t help how her heart thumps. “Thanks for saving me.” She murmurs, as he finishes up sliding the cloth around her soapy breasts, and up towards the dark marks on her throat, “And for being so sweet.” 

The grumpy look he’d had drawn on his features mutes, softening into a smile, dimples popping and drawing giddy feelings from her, “Anything for you, Puppy,” he tells her sweetly, “Would take down and rehang all the stars in the sky if ya so much as batted your eyelashes my way.” 

“Want to do stuff for you too,” her eyes flutter shut as he wipes at her neck, tickling some beneath her ear, her shoulders slumping as she relaxes, “Save you from stuff -- draw you -- draw you baths n’make you feel all nice.” 

“Nonsense,” he hums, “You saw past my devilish, blood stealing ways and didn’t shun me once you knew my deepest, darkest secrets -- each day I wake up with you in my arms and it warms me greatly, and every night I lay to rest happy knowing that you are mine and I am yours.” She senses his presence near to her, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her forehead, to which she opens her eyes to, “Though a bath or two in which you dote on me would be well appreciated.” 

A giggle leaves her as she strains her neck, puckering and pouting her lips, wishing that he’d plant one on her mouth which he grants with a quick peck, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth only for a moment before releasing her.

“I love you,” she hums as he switches clothes and rubs down her back, “Catch me in a good mood t’night, and I’ll let you unwrap your present early.” 

“I love you too, Sweet one. Relax while I finish up.” 

                                               .                             .                                   .

Harry only has her in there for ten more minutes before he helps her out, wrapping her up in a towel so he could drag her up into his arms to carry her. He moves with incredible ease, only putting her down once they get to his bed, laying her upon the mattress and unwrapping her from the towel. 

Harry disappears into his closet, reappearing with one of his long sleeve t-shirts and a pair of panties she had left here, batting away her hands when she reaches for them and slips them up her legs, and she raises her hips to help him. Snug over her bum, lifting up her legs and pushing them together then to the side so he can give her a playful swat. The effects of the liquid she’d had finally begun to set in slowly, encouraging her to tease him With a giggle, Y/N wiggles from him, pulling away from him in a half attempt to army crawl her way up the mattress, but Harry curls his spidery fingers around her ankles and pulls her back, her body twisting back around so that she faced him. He grabs her carefully by her wrists, dragging her to a sit, “Sweetheart,” he chides her, “As much as I wanna manhandle your naked lil’ body, you’re tired and a little drunk,” he pulls the shirt over her head, helping her push her arms through the sleeves, tugging it down her torso, and presses a kiss to her temple as he does so, “Plus, even though you don’t think it, you went through a lot tonight. I’ll have you in the morning if you’re still feeling feisty.” 

Pouting her lips, Y/N grumbles, “You’re no fun then. And you’re not getting your present either.” 

Harry gives a mock gasp, “Oh noo,” he pouts, helping her to a stand, “Whatever will I do!” She huffs at him, turning her head away from him as he slips his fingers against hers, pressed close as he helps her back down the steps, “You forget, Love, I’m a demon. Unlike a restless, eager human, I’m quite patient.” 

“Hush,” Y/N grumbles at him, flopping down onto the couch, “You’re such a meanie.” 

“Oh, the biggest meanie.” He hums, slinging a throw blanket over her shoulders before heading to the kitchen.

“The worst!” She calls after him and he chuckles warmly. 

“The absolute worst, I am.” 

Y/N sits and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully while her head swims and Harry clinks around in the kitchen. She was feeling pleasant, light and floaty, like she could drift off to sleep in a matter of seconds, but she stays awake if not to see what Harry would return with from the kitchen, then just for Harry’s return alone. There was something so comforting about his presence, especially after tonight, and she has no question that it is their bond. Him being around brings sleep more peaceful and easy. 

Harry emerges with a mug, whipped cream and sprinkles at high over the brim of the cup and she re-awakens, clapping her hands, “You’re the best!” She hums, knowing that it’s hot chocolate, reaching out for it and Harry hands it off to her carefully. 

“Thought I was the worst?” He inquires, grabbing the remotes, clicking on the tv and plopping down beside her on the couch as she takes a small sip, burning her tongue some but she grins anyway. He always makes the best -- something about milk and using the kettle, she always kind of blanks out when he starts describing it because she’s too busy enjoying it. 

Hell, she enjoys is so much that after another drink, she sets it on the coffee table and throws herself against him, planting a messy smushed kiss to his lips, “Christ, Puppy!” He huffs, curling his arm around her, patting at her bum again, but she muffles anymore words with her lips again, sticky and sweet and he giggles against it, “So m’not the worst?” 

Shaking her head, she nuzzles close and pecks at his throat, “Nooo, you’re the best, you narcissist.” And maybe the exhaustion finally hits her then, with her pressed so close, sinking and melting into his body, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of his breathing and the soothing thump of his heart. Slowly, she begins to fade into a blissful slumber, her last words murmured against his throat, “You owe me a Christmas movie night, ‘cos I helped wit’ your demon-y-ing.” 

Harry chuckles again, pushing a kiss to her head. 

“Sure, Pup.”