Demon Hunter Harry Sneak peek (Patreon)

Hello! Here's a sneak of the first nearly 3k words of the demon hunter harry fic! Tell me how you guys feel about it I'm really liking writing it so far :)

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i. 

It was too hot. 

For it to be deep in the night, Y/N shrouded in the cradle of trees luscious with leaves and the moon to be the only source of light, her sweat should not have the fabric of her shirt clinging to her body. The sort of heat that penetrated deep to her marrow, making it intolerable to be in her skin let alone any of her clothes. A kind that makes her long for the sharp, crisp air of autumn; the thought of the breeze was the only thing keeping her from succumbing to a heat stroke.

Under regular circumstances, she would be evading this type of weather by the protection of her flat. Swallowed in the artificial wind of her paired air conditioner and fan, bringing goose pimples up to the surface of her skin when she dare leave her swaddle of blankets, where she even shivers when she steps into the bathroom. She longed for it now, the way her the kitchen tile freezes the balls of her feet, instead of the crunch of dehydrated grass and snap of twigs beneath the soles of her tennis shoes on the forest floor. Hell, she would take a million mornings of dancing along the linoleum tile half awake and trying to pee than to be here right now. 

When she'd agreed to go camping, she had more imagined Harry having a secret cabin in the woods with a few separate rooms and a little kitchenette where he took all his conquests. Instead she was greeted by him and his girlfriend Isobel in a small glade, with two tents, and pit that consisted only of large, misshapen stones because they graciously left the task of fire log hunting for her. Harry must have seen the look written across her features, the way her face dropped, and the sag in her shoulders, "Listen, I know I didn't say explicitly that we would be in tents but it'll be fun! One night of fresh air and sleeping under the stars. . .it's refreshing." 

She would think he's devilish for putting her through the emotional turmoil of having her camp with him and his girlfriend, but to be fair he isn't aware of her feelings for him. Y/N isn't even really aware of them, as she stuffs and buries them down in an effort not to be hurt every time they go to a party and he disappears upstairs. They were just these tickling little feelings that work at the edges of her heart that she could ignore for the first part -- she doesn't let herself dwell on them like she might for anyone else. Normally with her crushes she lets the idea of them fester and swarm, until they've invaded a part of her mind she is unable to gain the reigns on until she slowly, but surely, gets over them.  

Harry was almost one of those boys, when they met freshmen year of college. He was tall, his biceps bulged when he hugged his arms around his chest making the dark ink of his tattoos prominent, and he had this set face that just beckoned someone to even dare mess with him. And then, when they became partners for a silly Get to know ME! project she found that this probable bad boy façade was quite fake, because albeit how hot and dangerous looking he was, he was rather strange. He had an eclectic music taste, a dry yet weird sense of humor, and had an incredible nasty habit of inconspicuously inviting himself over and spending the night. 

(The first time he had done it, she'd been so astonished with how smoothly he'd done so, her mind was boggled. "My flat's being fumigated 'cos of some nasty roaches. Bloody sucks doesn't it? D'ya have a toothbrush that I could use before bed?" To which Y/N had replied, "Oh, no, you'll have to bring your own. I've got enough mouthwash that should last us both tonight and tomorrow morning." It wasn't until after he'd told her he would see her around six with dinner that she realized what had just happened. Ever since, it felt as if he were at her home far more than she even was.) 

While after the first time he'd managed to slither his way into her room for the night to sleep on the pallet on the floor, after a particularly immense night of Taco Bell and an unbelievably gassy Harry, she accepted that he saw her more as a friend and stifled the feeling that had been swelling for him since the day they met two months prior. 

Now, two years later, she doesn't much question him when he suggests they do something weird. Like going camping in the middle of a blazing hot summer knowing Y/N can't stand the heat. 

In retrospect, she doesn't blame him. If he would have said exactly what they would be doing she and he both know that there was no chance in hell she would have shown up. She might not have in the first place considering she wasn't keen on the idea of being a third wheel for an entire night, but he'd pleaded with her since he and his new girlfriend Isobel had just recently been in a quarrel and he figures that if he went off to "take pictures of plants" she could get Isobel to confide her feelings to her (in their month together, the two were constantly in spats and somehow she managed to get in the middle of all of them). Her and Isobel weren't friends, per say but they had a good enough rapport that Isobel explained why she was mad at Harry, what she would like for him to do to fix it, and Y/N would relay this information back to him (though she thinks Isobel is aware of this, they do it so often). 

The day had been sweltering; a dry heat that the coverage of trees did very little to help. As Isobel was complaining about how Harry forgot their dinner together, Y/N was wondering how much sweat she could have produced in the five minutes since the conversation had started, and as she was trying to formulate an opinion on why Harry was so shit at remembering plans she had to dab away sweat forming at her hairline. They had a mist fan but she rarely got to see it (Harry was a terrible hogger -- it's primarily why she won't let him sleep in her bed) and she was more than ready to have stripped herself of her clothes and dip in the nearby stream risking all sorts of bug bites in weird places. 

What had gotten her through it had been the promise of a cool night, where the cold side of the moon would blow a breeze that soothed her to a sleep. No matter how restless, it would be some slumber at the very least and she was well prepared to roll out of the sleeping bag, pack up her tent, and leave them with a note at six in the morning that she needed to leave.

And yet, she had not gotten a wink of sleep thanks to the hot stuffy night. They had all went to lay down a few hours ago and normally she would be envious of someone who had a sleeping buddy, but with this heat, the additional warmth of a body would be unbreathable. She tossed and turned, rolled out her neck, shoulders, and lower back about two dozen times, until she realized that the pressing urge in her bladder was incredibly difficult to ignore. Not only was she realizing that, but it was also coming to light that she would have to walk out to the weird, shack outhouse that was just a little off the lot of where they were sleeping, which had been no problem in the sun. Now, with as dark as it is, she can barely see her hand inches in front of her face and there was only a stray, flickering light posted up on a tree every fifty to a hundred meters. 

If she weren't so uncomfortable (and therefore pissy) she would imagine being far more frightened of being alone in the forest at night but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Wiping tiredly at her eyes, she'd been attempting to find the out house for what felt like way too long, enough so that she had decided she was a reasonable distance away to just pull down her shorts and pee. It would be better than holding her breath for a minute while she tries to rush and vacate her bladder. 

She finds a trunk thick enough that would shield her in case Harry or Isobel came for the toilet as well, slipping her shorts down far enough that she wouldn't get any pee on them and tugs the crotch of her underwear far to the left. It takes a moment or two for her to actually relax, the pads of her fingers digging deep into the sharp bark as she grounds herself. She takes a deep, slow breath through pursed lips flexing and curling her toes in an attempt to keep herself planted. A small squeak leaves her when a plant just barely strokes against the skin of her but otherwise she would say it is going rather smoothly. 

Or so it had been, until she heard a not so friendly groaning. 

It wasn't like the kind of "I stumbled on a horny couple who aren't scared of a rash and I'm going to have to ignore the small pinch of interest in my abdomen" kind of groan. It was a more a deep, minacious strain from deep in the caverns of a chest. Inhuman in nature that she replays Harry's a million promises that there were no bear sightings close to where they were staying, rushing to a stand where she tugs her shorts up as she goes. Her heart kicks up in chest, a fight or flight response sending her nerves frayed on end and she's choosing flight. 

Though when she stands, the same, deep throaty sound echoes, bouncing off the trees. Her blood runs like ice through her vessels, before rushing down to the tips of her fingers and toes. She freezes; taking a moment to sense her surroundings, trying to focus on where the noise had come from so she doesn't run directly towards it. Y/N slowly slides her phone from where she'd tucked it into her bra, scrolling to Harry's number as her heart's rapid beating pounds like a metronome in her ear only to find that she had no service. Her stomach turns, eyes threatening to water when the groan comes again, closer. . .near to her. . .like it'd smelt her and was on it's way to eat her. 

Scared didn't even begin to describe how she felt, as she looked around in the dark, only few spots illuminated but even those lights begin to flicker. She was petrified; the last time she can remember being this scared was. . .well, she couldn't. It was unlike a fear she'd ever felt before. . .a fear for her life that she had never felt before. 

She gives it one last chance to bellow its noise -- it's coming from the right -- so she steps quietly to the left, mind racing with a million thoughts a minute all of which rounded to GO, GO, GO but if she's learned one thing from horror films and weird survival seminars she'd gotten roped into, it's that running blindly into the dark was a sure way to fuck herself over. Y/N steps back carefully, and continues to do so, looking in the direction of the noises and looking behind her to make sure nothing was creeping up. It was hard to make out much of anything though.

A chill ran through the air and deep through her bones, goosebumps pimpled and swelled on the bare skin of her arms. It makes her stomach sink further. The heat had been ungodly, but this sudden cold felt all too sinister in nature. It scared her further. 

She pivots on her heel, deciding she needed to leave and she needed to leave now but in the time she'd paused to briefly consider the sudden change in temperature, she had been snuck up on. 

And what she sees. . .what burns the lens of her eyes.  . .was something more ungodly than she could have ever imagined. 

It was grotesque; a mass of matted, bloodied chestnut fur but it's grizzly maw dripping of slick drool sloppy and lowering down to the forest floor below them. She wills her body to react. To move. To scream. To do anything but she's frozen in place, nothing but her heart moving quickly but even then it felt as if it might be slowing. Her brain can barely comprehend what she's seeing -- all it is, is fur, and teeth, blood and drool. The only thing she could compare it to was a disfigured bear, with no real face -- or at least she couldn't see. There wasn't much that she could make out with it being so dark but she didn't need to see it to know that it wasn't right. Wasn't something earthly! 

There's something like a weird stare down between the two despite Y/N not being able to see its eyes. Like each were waiting for the other to make the next move. Y/N can't feel anything but fear. 

A large paw stomps down against the ground, another gurgled groan scrapes from the creature and Y/N's brain finally tells her to move but she can't. She fucking can't because something wet is slithering around her ankle, anchoring her in place and her breathing falters as she jerks her knees to only stay in place. It stung, like a slap of cold leather against tender skin. Her mouth runs dry because when she does try to reach down and pry it from her skin, the piece of flesh that had slunk around her burns her fingers and stains them black. 

No noise but pitiful whimpers and whines and ngh's leave her because the creature begins to lower down, it's jaws dropping open and she's certain this is it. As she tries one more tug of her legs, she wobbles and begins to fall. 

Instead of her bum falling against the hard ground and her thighs getting scratched up by the rough twigs and leaves that are behind her, a pair of very familiar arms catch her -- the same ones that comfort her when she's whiny and stressed and the only way to placate her is a back rub and sweets. When she cranes her neck she finds Harry, who is clutching her tightly, with a cold stony glare toward the creature and while relief floods at her toes another rush of panic soon enters her system. What were they to do then? Now both of them were in danger because she's fairly sure that Harry doesn't know what the hell to do in this situation either. 

"Harry, run --" she tries breathlessly, trying to give him a small shove because he had a chance at the very least. He wasn't locked around the ankles, he could get out of there and save himself but his grip around her arms is firm enough to leave a bruise. He is unmoving, as sturdy as he always is and it's comforting but she's so confused. Figures that he would be just as scared as her, if not more frightful but he doesn't even seem to be shocked with what stood before him.

"Mitch," Harry speaks unyielding , loud, unshaken by the beast standing before them, "Now." 

The words scrape at her throat, Who's Mitch? She wants to know but she feels lightheaded. . .her ankle aches like fire against an open flesh wound and she gasps from the pain of it, body pressing harder up against his chest and through the intensity of the moment she comes to realize it is because Harry is holding her closer. It hurts so terribly, she feels as if she might pass out -- her conscious brain's way of escaping the fiery agony. "It's okay, Love," Harry murmurs low in her ear, "Close your eyes." 

Is this a dream? It feels like a dream. . .a terrible awful one that she'd love to be shaken from, as a sharp gleam of light cuts through the night and the sickening sound of bones crunching makes her skewer her eyes so tightly closed that it hurts. 

The last thing she hears is a bellowed cry before she succumbs to a world where she feels nothing.