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Can You See It

So it's been a long time since I wrote anything for The Conjuring universe, but seeing the new film just made me so excited.

I had a lot of fun writing for Ben Hardy again and seeing him in something new. I'd love to know what you all think, please leave any feedback and comments.

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Summary: (Y/n) inherited her mother's gift for the supernatural, but she doesn't want it. No matter how hard she tries, she can't ignore the things she sees. Tony tries his best to understand and protect her from the things she senses.

Enjoy.

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She could still hear them, even from all the way down the hall while she was here in her old room.

"Happy birthday old man."

"Can you fit enough candles on your cake?"

A few more jokes seemed to filter through the air and each one made (Y/n) smile, because she knew how they were only trying to wind up her dad. And she knew just how easily he would become wound up and what kind of jokes he would throw back at them in retaliation.

With a smile still painted across her face, (Y/n) looked back down at her vanity desk and sank down onto the worn bench seat that accompanied it. Her hands traced over the desk, looking for the polaroids that she wanted to show Tony, and embarrass her dad with.

She wanted to find them now, before her mum brought out the cake and it was time to sing happy birthday.

(Y/n) wasn't quite sure where she had left Tony, he had been circulating through the guests for a while, getting to know everyone and finding people to talk to. Most of the people here were family friends, so poor Tony didn't know anyone except for (Y/n) and her parents, and even then he was still nervous about saying the wrong thing in front of them.

Once she found the polaroids she wanted, (Y/n) would go back out there and save Tony from whoever had snared him into conversation.

Her fingers roamed the old vanity desk, tracing over the smooth glass top while she looked for the little box with a red ribbon glued on top that held all of her favourite photos. It was usually somewhere here at the back of the vanity, always within reach.

She scoured the top of the vanity, but that little red ribbon wasn't anywhere in sight. The smile on her face began to obscure into a frown as she tilted back on the small bench and tried to look around.

There it was. Her mum must have been cleaning in her recently and knocked it off by mistake. That brightly coloured ribbon could just about be seen, the box pressed up against the wall at the bottom of the vanity.

She leant to the left, arching forward as much as she could without falling off the bench, stretching her arm out as much as she could until her fingers scraped the cardboard.

Then she felt it. That touch of cold that felt like a sharp nail or even a claw scratching down the back of her neck like it was tracing every ridge of her spine. The feeling made tingling pins and needles poke out through her skin and along her arms right down to the tips of her fingers that were curled around the box.

All she could do was clench that box in her hand, curling a fist around it until she was close to crumpling the cardboard beneath her grip despite her limbs turning numb.

It felt like lasers were burning into her skin, feeling a pair of eyes focusing on her like tunnel vision. Except it wasn't a pair of eyes, not really. It wasn't a person; it was a thing. An it. A creature not of this world.

She didn't want to look. (Y/n) didn't want to turn, she didn't want to look over her shoulder and see what kind of thing it would be that was staring into her such such burning intensity.

Slow, deep breaths inhaled through (Y/n)'s nose and out through her mouth but it didn't stop the trembling in her chest, or the unease that was starting to overwhelm her like a flood.

Lying arched over like this wasn't helpful, leaning until she was almost falling off the bench trying to grab that box. Her stomach was starting to tighten both from nerves and the strain of lying across like this. As slowly as she possibly could, (Y/n) pressed her feet down into the floor and tried to straighten herself up.

She felt like a glow stick that was trying to go back into place after being snapped and bent in every direction. Straightening up didn't feel right but that rigid sense came back to her and had her as still as if time had been paused around her.

She set the box down on the vanity, fingers gliding and pausing over the ribbon that tickled her skin and brought some sense of normality back to the overwhelming panic that was drowning her.

But then she lifted her eyes. She thought looking ahead would be safer than looking behind her, it didn't click until it was a moment too late that she was sitting in front of a mirror. A mirror which reflected what was waiting behind her, desperate to be seen.

All she saw was a flicker. A tendril of hair, a glassy eye and the corner of a blackened mouth sticking up into a splintered smile that showed saliva dripping down his mouth and a row of pointed teeth. There was nothing human about that face, that dark mouth that couldn't be told where his lips began or the corners ended with how foul and dark the colour was.

The noise that came out of those horrid lips was ungodly. Not a hum, not a laugh or a cackle or even a breath, just a droning, dragged out grunt similar to a growl.

It wasn't the face that caught (Y/n)'s attention the most. Just before she lowered her head from the mirror, she saw it. A hand, the colour of seaweed and charcoal grey combined like paint. Long, jagged nails splintered like wood fragments. Those fingers looked longer than a single forearm and all of them curled around her left shoulder. Putting a grip on her. Claiming her.

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped closed and her arms coiled to her chest, hands clenched into fists as she started to rock back and forth on the bench.

She pretended she couldn't hear it. She couldn't see that hand, she couldn't feel those fingers digging into her skin tight enough to leave bruises. She couldn't feel those nails scratching into the fabric of her dress on her shoulder.

There was no creature behind her. There was no watery heaving sounds mimicking breaths fanning against the back of her neck causing the hairs on her skin to stand on end. There was nothing in her childhood room that could hurt her, nothing that would cause her any harm.

"Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it." Her body continued to sway back and forth, lips going dry as she murmured the rhyme her mum taught her since she was little.

(Y/n) didn't want to see it. She didn't want to see, hear or sense these things around her. She didn't want them hanging over her like an omen, following and clinging to her skirts like a shadow or a child desperate for her attention. (Y/n) wanted to be rid of the fear that came with everything she saw; but she knew that it was never going to go away. Whatever she saw was going to frighten her, and that fear was amplified when she knew that these things could harm her.

They could harm her and her family, it didn't matter whether her parents told her they couldn't. She knew they could, and it frightened her to no end.

"Not a penny was there in it, Only ribbon round it."

The rhyme passed her lips again, and then again to try and ward off the feeling that was hovering over her and that grip that was causing her body to lean down to the left like she was being pushed towards the floor.

"Lucy Locket lo-"

"Who?"

A scream almost tore its way out of (Y/n)'s lips when that all too familiar voice flooded her ears.

Her lips parted and her eyes snapped open, but no sound emitted from her lips. She couldn't make a noise, she could hardly breathe at all with the weight pressing down on her chest and the terror that seemed to have evaporated her voice into silent air.

Her body shook like she had been electrocuted and her jaw hung down as she stared up to her left, looking at Tony with eyes as wide as saucers and a mouth ajar in horror and panic.

All she could do was stare at Tony, too afraid to turn her head and glance down at her shoulder that was still slumped down to the left, afraid to see those long slender fingers curled around her skin. Unable to glance to her right and look in the mirror in case that gaping black mouth was smiling at her and those teeth dared to try and bite into her skin.

Tony's eyes narrowed as he took in (Y/n)'s state. Rabid eyes, panic stricken face, parted lips and shallow breaths that seemed like they might emit a scream at any given moment. Her frame was shaking but her hands were clenched into fists so tightly on her lap that her knuckles looked like they were going to break through the skin.

Moving felt like Tony was breaking some kind of spell, some kind of atmosphere that shouldn't be touched or disturbed but he couldn't just stand there and wait.

He moved to sit down on the edge of the very edge of the bench that (Y/n) was sat on, and his hand reached out to curl around her thigh while he took a quick glance around the room. Something had worried her. She wouldn't have been sat there with her eyes closed and her body trembling if she was just reminiscing or thinking of something.

"Did you see something?" His voice was thick like honey and his eyes narrowed as he leant closer until their noses were almost touching.

"No," (Y/n) wasn't sure why she said it when that word fell from her lips. She didn't know why she was trying to hide it when Tony already knew. He could already see something was up with her, and he knew she had seen something. It was his own sixth sense that he could see the real (Y/n) that tried to hide, he could see her even when nobody else could.

It felt wrong to try and smile, but she forced herself to. She forced her lips into something that resembled a curve and she shook her head, but it didn't work. Tony's hand reached out to cup her jaw, thumb smoothing along the edge of her chin as he angled her head up until they were staring into one another's eyes again.

"It's okay, you can talk to me." He didn't correct her that she was wrong or point out she was lying, he didn't need to. He just needed her to know that she could talk to him.

Tony wasn't going to laugh, he wasn't going to point a finger at her and joke or say she was being silly. He would listen and do his best to understand.

"I just…" The words weren't quite forming, and (Y/n) couldn't stop herself from looking away from Tony, despite her chin still being cradled by his touch. Her breath held deep in her lungs when she looked at the mirror.

Something deep within her told her not to look, not to try and search for something she didn't truly want to see, but what else could she do but try and convince herself that it hadn't been real? Pretending it was a flicker of the imagination was easier to comprehend than knowing it had truly been there and that touch had been weighing down on her skin.

It was still there. That hand was tighter around her shoulder this time, as if squeezing to remind her when she tried to forget. Those splintered cracking nails were now scratching into her skin through her dress and that touch was pushing down until she was leaning and almost falling into Tony.

Terror was the only thing Tony could comprehend when he looked at her. His tongue darted out across his lips and he swallowed loudly as he leant forward and tried to be closer to her, to see what was frightening her so much.

She wasn't even pretending to smile anymore, her mouth was agape and her lower lip and chin were wobbling within Tony's tender touch. She was staring at something in the mirror so intently it was like she was trying to bring something back to life.

Tony looked from (Y/n) to the mirror, looking for a flash of light, a sparkle of colour or even a shadow dancing across the light to tell him what was wrong and what he should be seeing. But he didn't see anything, and deep down he knew that he wouldn't.

He watched her, mesmerised as she finally turned her head back towards him. They were close enough that their parted lips were almost touching now, and each shallow, fragile breath that she took fanned across his wet lips. But it was her eyes that got him the most. Her eyes that made his broad shoulders hunch up and had his hand tightening around her thigh, clinging to her as if to reassure himself as much as her.

His blue eyes narrowed and his cheekbones became more visible as he turned his head a little from one side to the next as if silently begging for some insight or a hint.

The only hint he got was (Y/n) keeping their noses practically touching, but darting her eyes down to look at her left shoulder.

"Baby?"

A single tear traced down (Y/n)'s cheek as she reached her hands out. One trembling palm pressed against Tony's chest, scrunching the fabric of his shirt into her palm to ground herself to him, use him as a token to keep her seated with reality. But her other hand shakily cupped his sharp jawline, thumb resting on his cheekbone as she turned his head towards the mirror and angled his chin down just a little so that his eyes would be focusing on their shoulders which were touching in the reflection.

It was there. It was gripping tightly. It was so close that Tony should have been able to feel that omnibus presence beside him. He should have felt the same harsh, grunting breaths fanning against his neck and feel a grim, prickling arm resting between them like a boulder trying to keep them apart.

"Can you see it?" Her voice was as soft as a lullaby in Tony's ears, her words a quiet uttering that could have put him into a trance. She knew he wouldn't be able to see it, knew he would never truly know what she was referring to or imagine the things she could see with her own eyes. But she wanted him to, she wanted him to see, to feel and to know.

Perhaps if he knew, he might be able to shoulder the burden of fright that crushed her. Perhaps he could bear the weight of the other world much better than (Y/n).

"Tell me what I should see." His voice was dripping like melted butter and there was so much understanding, so much pleading to understand that (Y/n) wanted to cry.

His words alone told her that he didn't know what was happening and that should have been relieving to hear. Tony shouldn't have to understand, but (Y/n) was cruel for wanting him to.

She watched, fully transfixed on their reflection as Tony let go of her thigh in favour of resting his hand on her shoulder. Because that was where she was looking so reverently. His fingers were soft as they curled over her shoulder and his thumb massaged the back of her shoulder while his other hand remained on her jaw, wanting her to look at him but she wouldn't look away from the mirror.

The hand had shifted to curl over Tony's hand, like a warning sign. A signal that it wasn't happy to have Tony's touch replace its own, to be pushed out by someone who couldn't see nor sense its presence. Those slimy fingers with cracking joints and peeling skin were now digging tighter and tighter into Tony's hand in the reflection and it caused (Y/n)'s mouth to harden into a frown.

She didn't want any of these things to touch Tony, no matter how desperate she was for him to see them too. She didn't want them to be this close to him, to be within reach of harming him in any way.

He felt it, (Y/n) knew Tony felt it because the understanding in his eyes shifted until he was frowning and his upper lip curled into something like a snarl. His gaze shot down to his hand on her shoulder, and despite not being able to see anything there, he felt it. Tony could feel something dangerously close to feeling like a large hand on top of his own, and he could feel a tight grip on his hand. It was as cold as a block of ice, as cold as he imagined something dead might feel.

A quiet, almost silent "A hand," fell from Tony's lips like a whisper from God, and it both relieved and petrified (Y/n) that he knew what he was supposed to be looking for.

Tony felt her touch leave his cheek and he watched, transfixed and worried, as (Y/n) stretched her right hand out towards the vanity mirror she was so enamoured with. Her other hand stayed clutching his shirt tight enough to leave creases and threaten holes in the material, but he didn't care.

He couldn't move, all he could do was sit and stare as (Y/n)'s fingertips delicately pushed against the glass, right against where he figured that hand would be gripping his.

Something shifted in the atmosphere the moment (Y/n) reached whatever spirit or thing was around them. Tony felt the coldness wrapping around them and the gust of air that swept around them as if they were caught right in the centre of a tornado.

A whimper tore its way past (Y/n)'s lips when that face started to appear behind her.

First the beady eyes that were as black as coal with narrowed lids and a darkening glimmer in them like evil itself had a true form. Then a long, pointed nose that was slightly crooked at the end. Then the smile. Painted black lips that looked like they had been splattered with splodge or goo, droplets of saliva dotted across them as they parted to reveal rows and rows of sharp fangs and broken teeth.

Matted, dark greasy hair that looked frail enough to fall apart and disintegrate on the spot. Shrouding it like a matted cloak, a dark signature of hate and terror.

That awful breathing, if it could even be called breathing, groans that came from deep within the chest and grated along the voice box.

She couldn't look anymore, it was too horrifying to envisage and (Y/n) didn't want to watch it. Her eyes snapped closed and a sound close to a whimper left her lips, but every part of her body froze. She tensed up like a wax figure hardening into a mannequin, one arm outstretched towards the mirror and the other clenched around Tony's shirt.

"Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it." (Y/n) could barely get the words to ramble past her lips but she could tell as she spoke them that they weren't working. They weren't making it go away. They weren't ridding that image from her mind or that creature from behind her or its hand from Tony's hand.

It's not real. I don't want this. It's not there.

Her neck felt so tense that moving her head felt like her neck was going to snap, but (Y/n) tried to loosen that tension. She tried to go loose when Tony's hand on her jaw gently turned her head away from the mirror so they were facing once again even if her eyes remained closed.

His temple pressed against her own, her sweat-ridden skin gluing them together and Tony wouldn't have it any other way. He started to stroke his thumb along the edge of her jawline like he was performing some secret ritual, but then he stopped.

His left hand uncurled from her shoulder in a slow motion like it was hard for him to fight off that invisible force, but he managed it. Tony moved that hand to cup (Y/n)'s neck so his left hand could stretch out towards the mirror and hold onto (Y/n)'s wrist.

He pulled her hand away and the moment her fingers left the glass, the connection was lost. Whatever it was seemed to lose its grip on (Y/n) and that cold air shifted into the natural warm heat that usually circulated through the house.

"You're here with me, you're safe. There's nothing else here, baby, I promise."

Tony's mantra was one (Y/n) felt oddly calm and connected with, as if those words were a better remedy than the rhyme she and her mum had been telling themselves all her life. Lucy Locket was nothing compared to Tony's honey-dripped voice and the certainty that he held within his tone.

And the feeling of his plump lips pressing against hers and his temple holding her up and his hand on her neck and his other hand on her wrist, guiding her hand to rest on his shoulder; it was all blissfully overwhelming and absorbing.

She realised just how her thighs were aching from how tense her legs were against the bench, but the feeling was nothing compared to the relief that hit (Y/n) like a truck when her eyes opened and she could sense that they were alone again. There was nothing else in the room with them, not anymore.

Her eyes closed when Tony stole another kiss from her lips, tilting her head back to better mould his mouth along hers. But he pulled back abruptly, leaving an air of space between them as his hand shifted from her neck and his fingertips were suddenly swiping along her upper lip.

"Shit baby," Tony's tongue darted across his lips as his eyes zoned in on (Y/n)'s lips that were coated in a small trail of blood which he could taste in his mouth.

There was a stream of blood making a slow path from her nose, down her lips, something he figured wasn't so absurd after what he had just felt in the room with them and what (Y/n) had clearly witnessed in the mirror.

"Are you okay?" He found himself glancing around the room as if to triple check that whatever it was had truly left them, but he looked back towards (Y/n) when she leaned up against him with a sudden urgency. She swiped the back of her hand carelessly against her upper lip, smearing away the blood before she laid her cheek on his shoulder.

Her arms moved to lock around the back of his neck, hands scrunching in the back of his shirt this time instead of the front and her chest suctioned against his own. He felt her knees bumping his and if she moved any closer, she would be sat on his lap on the very edge of the bench and Tony knew they might just tip over onto the floor. But he didn't care. As long as she felt safe, he would hold her for however long she wanted.

He cupped the back of her neck, his other arm binding around her waist as he kissed the back of her head, suddenly finding himself breathless.

"Don't let me go."

"I won't." His reply was instant, almost as soon as (Y/n)'s plea fell from her own lips. "I'm right here, you're safe baby."

***

What time was it?

The florescent light seeping in through the thin curtains always obscured the darkness and made it near impossible to tell what time of night it was.

(Y/n) could barely open her eyes and she didn't want to either, she was still tired and the darkness fighting the street light told her she didn't have to be up anytime soon. Once she was awake it was much harder to settle her mind and go back to sleep.

Her tired eyes glanced towards the window on the far left side of the room, seeing the pale yellow light trying to peer through the curtains that were unusually still, meaning there was no midnight breeze outside. The street light almost acted as a night light.

It burned (Y/n) with embarrassment that she still liked to have some light to break through the darkness in her room. Like she was still that frightened eight year old who couldn't sleep if the bedroom door wasn't left open ajar with the hall light on to banish the monsters. Knowing some of the things she saw in the darkness were real and could very easily hurt her made any shadows look threatening.

Being able to see everything in the room, no matter what time of day or night it was, came as a comfort and helped (Y/n) get a better night sleep.

Closing her eyes once again, (Y/n) let her head sink back into the pillow and tried to get that hollow, relaxed feeling back to her muscles.

It almost worked.

Her mind was seconds from succumbing to the clutches of a dream, when something caught her attention.

At first, she couldn't make out what it was. The noise was so faint, so dull that she had to become more lucid to actually try and work out what it was, and (Y/n) didn't know why she was so interested in knowing what that insignificant sound was. But she listened, sometimes holding her breath and tensing her limbs as if it would help flood all of her weakened, tired concentration to focus on her hearing.

It was a scratching sound, like someone was dragging something heavy and a loose nail was scraping along the floor.

The sound lasted a few seconds, followed by a sudden low thud, then it started again. In that precise order, scratch, thud, scratch. And it wasn't just one noise either, it was repeating, like three or four nails were scratching along the floor at once. But it wasn't the floor, the noise sounded like it was further than the floor, higher up. Above her.

It was a hand; nails on fingers scratching the walls or possibly the ceiling.

With that thought playing on her mind, (Y/n) felt her muscles starting to tighten like coil springs being compressed. Her eyelids clenched until it felt like they were going to tear apart and she begged herself not to open them. She couldn't see whatever was in the room with them. She couldn't look around and see a haunted face looking back at her or a creature with a black mouth or no eyes or bloodied hands reaching out for her.

She couldn't see a weapon being aimed in her direction or a doll trying to gain her attention or something transforming and breaking and contorting into something else before her eyes.

Whatever kind of evil was in the room, (Y/n) didn't want to bear witness to it. She didn't want to see anything but the inanimate objects of her bedroom.

The noise didn't stop, no matter how hard (Y/n) wished for it to disappear and the quiet, contented atmosphere to return to the bedroom.

If anything, whatever presence she could sense seemed irritated that she wasn't paying it any attention.

It's nails- or claws- started to scratch louder against whatever it was doing until a horrible grating, crumbling sound started to shake the room like it was scratching so deep that the plaster on the walls was starting to chip away. It caused shivers to course throughout (Y/n)'s nerves and she started to coil in on herself as her eyes remained shut, but a few tears managed to escape.

She tried to compose herself and ground herself to what was real, desperate to focus on anything but the sound of whatever creature was in the room with them.

Her body felt like it was turning to stone, paralysing itself with fear but (Y/n) forced herself to move, to twitch her foot and shuffle her hip just a little. She didn't want to become locked in with fear. Shifting just an inch to the left made her suddenly aware of whereabouts Tony was beside her.

His arm was draped across her waist, something (Y/n) hadn't felt or noticed until now. But the weight was a comfort, something that grounded (Y/n) to the moment and stopped her from floating away with panic and despair like she was a balloon full of helium.

And she could feel his soft breaths fanning against her neck with how close his head was laid to hers, something else (Y/n) hadn't taken much notice of.

Still with her eyes closed, (Y/n) turned her head to the left until her forehead was touching Tony's. The ends of their noses bumped and each breath he took between his slightly parted lips fanned and entwined with (Y/n)'s and she found herself counting his breaths to try and settle herself.

But the noise was starting to change, it was no longer scratching along the walls. At first, (Y/n) thought it was the sound of something being hit, or an egg being dropped, the shell splattering onto the floor with a definite crunch.

Then she realised what it was; joints cracking. Just like someone was straightening up and clicking their spine into place or clicking their knees into place.

(Y/n) knew that wasn't exactly what it was though, whatever was in the room with them wasn't simply straightening their joints. It was contorting, changing its shape to frighten her. No doubt arms would be twisted out of place, a strange, ungodly face would be twisted at an impossible angle, fingers would be snapped back towards the back of the hand. Legs would be sticking out in odd angles, body disproportionate.

The noise was getting louder, closer, more like gunshots than snapping body parts and (Y/n) instinctively knew that the creature, the thing, was getting closer to her from wherever it was in the room.

Coiling her knees up as much as she could towards her stomach, (Y/n) tried to turn to the left until her knees were pressing against Tony's thighs and her body was tilted towards him. Their temples were touching and (Y/n) had to refrain from pushing too harshly against him and waking him up. But she couldn't quite stop herself from reaching her hands out for him.

She reached for his arm that was slung lazily over her waist in sleep and clutched her fingers tightly into his bicep, clinging and attaching herself to him like it would do any good in ridding whatever was in the room.

This was around the time when (Y/n) was little that she would call out for her parents or her nana. She would cling to her mum who would tell her everything was alright. She would wait for her dad to check the room and say a prayer or a verse in Latin to make sure nothing unholy could stay in the room with her. But they weren't here now, and it should be up to (Y/n) to expel the creature from the room to protect Tony, but fear was stopping her.

Her body jolted and cringed when something dripped onto her cheek from above. Whether it was saliva, blood or something else entirely, (Y/n) didn't know and she didn't want to find out.

Her lower lip quivered, letting out a quiet whimper as she began to tremble, clinging to Tony's arm so excruciatingly tight that he groaned in his sleep and his arm pressed down into her chest like he was somehow trying to reassure her.

Another drip landed on her neck and (Y/n) quivered, keeping her temple pressed close against Tony's as she dared to open her eyes.

Her gaze remained on him, taking in his sleeping form and the way his features looked slightly tense like he could tell something wasn't quite right with her. There were lines on his brow, creases that would have looked like concentration, had he been awake. The tip of his nose was scrunched and his parted lips were almost forming a frown.

(Y/n) focused on those reddened lips that looked like they had been painted the same fleshy colour as a rose petal. She watched his soft breaths that were three times as slow as her rapid gasps for air and the shallow panting of her chest.

"(Y/n)."

She heard it. She heard her name so clearly coming from whatever was looming above her that it brought tears to her eyes and caused her to pierce her nails into Tony's bicep she was still clinging to.

It was saliva that was dripping onto her face and down her neck; something was hovering above her with a mouth that was far too big and wide for its face. Pointed teeth protruding from the front of the mouth, froffing spit dribbling past those cracked lips that led to a gaping mouth that looked like a black hole, ready to consume anything and everything in its path.

It was hovering above the bed, suspended in the air like some kind of illusion and though (Y/n) still had her temple pressed against Tony's, she did the wrong thing and glanced her eyes up to the right.

It dropped from the air. Plummeting towards her like gravity had been switched back on. With bent, broken fingers outstretched towards her and its mouth flying open into something that might have resembled a sinister grin, but it was a hollow opening for consuming anything within reach.

The growl that left that hollow entrance caused (Y/n)'s body to convulse back and forth on the bed and she screamed.

She felt horrid for the petrifying shriek that scraped and tore against the back of her throat but her eyes closed tight before she could see the utter despair and terror that flooded Tony's face.

His eyes opened so wide his face hurt and it looked like his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. His pupils started to blow wide, dilating in the darkness as he came face to face with the agonising torment painted across (Y/n)'s face. Something like a yell left Tony's lips on instinct as he started to shake while he propelled himself up onto his right elbow that was incredibly numb from behind squashed beneath his pillow.

He didn't seem to realise that his left arm was already around (Y/n)'s waist and when he went to pull his arm back, he ended up yanking on her waist and slamming her against his chest, causing her temple to bash into his collar bone.

The jolt sent Tony's limbs spasming and had his heart shuddering with palpitations in his chest, but somehow he managed to keep himself propped up on his elbow.

He looked around the room wildly, eyes blazing as he looked for an intruder or some kind of threat, but as always, he couldn't see anything.

That didn't mean he couldn't sense something; Tony could feel the damp in the air and how bitterly cold the room had become. He could sense a lingering touch near his shoulder that he instinctively knew wasn't from (Y/n). And (Y/n) was the biggest sign of all. The way she was tremoring against his chest, hands clutching at him as if she expected to grip a shirt but ended up scratching into his bare skin instead.

He could feel her chest vibrating and quaking as she could barely take in a proper breath, and her face was meshed up against his chest.

He was sure (Y/n) was about to scream again when he turned onto his back so he could stretch his arm out behind him, fingers fumbling around for the lamp to eliminate the shadows. The dark orange hue that cast around the room wasn't as comforting as Tony hoped it would be, but at least it allowed him to see. And hopefully, the room would be empty now, void of any demonic presence and the light would cast out the shadows so (Y/n) could feel a tiny bit safer.

"Baby? Baby it's okay," His voice came out in deep rasps and his words were mumbled at the end when he twisted back around and lolled his head forward to attach his lips to her temple.

He curved his left arm around her frame, hand coming up to cup the back of her head until his fingers were tangled in her hair, clutching at the strands for dear life.

"You're with me, you're safe."

That mantra was like a saving grace, a lullaby (Y/n) kept repeating in her head to block out the darkness and show the demons that they weren't allowed to be here. She was with Tony, it was only the two of them here. Everything would be alright.

She didn't want to open her eyes, she didn't want to risk this tiny bubble popping and seeing something stood there or hovering above them even with the light shining from the lamp to try and break through the darkness. (Y/n) wanted to keep her eyes closed and stay wrapped around Tony line a vine, binding him to her to keep them both safe.

Turning round, (Y/n) shrunk down until she was laid on her back again but this time, she deadlocked her arms around Tony's neck and tugged until he laid down on top of her. His chest merged against hers and his face burrowed into the crook of her neck, arm still braced around her with his hand cupping the back of her head.

"Alright baby, you're alright."

(Y/n) kept her eyes tightly closed, turning to mesh her lips with Tony's cheekbone and her nose squashed against his skin so that if she accidentally cracked one eye open, all she would be faced with was his porcelain skin. She wanted Tony to take up all of her vision if she dared open her eyes. She wanted him to smother each and every one of her senses, even her cursed sixth sense.

If Tony was wrapped around her, flooding her senses, then maybe everything would be drowned out. He was all she wanted to think about and be consumed with.

He was what she needed to feel safe.

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