those tags… WHY MUST YOU HURT US ALL LIKE THAT?!?! I WAS FINE AND HAPPY TONIGHT BEFORE THAT!!! NOW IM SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY
what about demonrry being able to feel the exact moment Nimbus and Onyx die because of their telepathic bond, and it causes him to stumble as they’re running away because he feels all their pain and hears their last words.
The scars on his chest feel like they’re being ripped into his body all over again as fresh wounds, but he chokes down a sob and forces himself back onto his feet, wiping at his drenched face desperately as a new wave of tears fights against the back of his eyes. His voice is a raw croak, tight with emotion. “We have to keep going.”
Y/N is by his side, her arm wrapping under his and around his torso, her enhanced strength supporting his weight securely. He probably would have crumbled to the ground again without her.
She hoists him steady, glancing behind them to make sure they’re not being followed. Her eyes reflect the light of a distant fire, which envelops the windows and balcony of their apartment several blocks down. The sound of sirens can be heard echoing from the street, their red and blue lights casting colors around the corner.
Y/N whips her gaze back down towards Harry, arguing in sheer disbelief at his decision. “Harry, we can’t just leave them—!”
“We can.” He states in a low mutter, his eyes flitting between black and their usual jade as he struggles to keep his composure. He screws them shut, a new flood of tears escaping in the process.
She watches them streak down his cheeks, which are blotchy and red in the dim lights of the street lamps. It’s as if his entire nervous system is being overwhelmed. As if he’s feeling too many things at once. As if he’s feeling more than just his own emotions at once…
The realization hits her like a knife to the chest, causing the blood in her veins to freeze over. She can’t control the strangled cry that emits from her collapsing chest.
“We can.” Harry reiterates with a firmer voice, but she can tell he’s barely keeping it together— it’s evident in the tremble running under his words.
She knows that the repetition of the phrase is his way of breaking the news, because he can’t find the heart to say it aloud directly— it’d feel too real. It’s his way of begging her not to push the subject further, or he might completely shatter. They don’t have the luxury of time on their side; they can’t mourn properly right now, given the circumstances. The best she can do is simply oblige and push forward.
Harry had made a plan for this years ago and had walked his girlfriend through it many times. She always joked about how paranoid he was, but as much as he hated dwelling on it, he had a looming suspicion it would come in handy one day.
He’d built a safe house of sorts in a secluded area, which took after their regular apartment and included an arsenal of supplies that could wait out an apocalypse. He’d guarded it with warding against both angels and demons, courtesy of a spell made of his own devising. He’d cloaked and concealed it with magic, as an extra layer of protection. They just had to make it to the portal he’d created in the city.
Harry had the power to summon and close it whenever, so he’d willed it into existence the second he sensed what was coming. He’d opened it far enough from their flat to avoid detection, but close enough to reach during an emergency. The route obviously takes longer on foot, but it’s not impossible. If he or Y/N were to use their magic in any way, they’d be tracked down in seconds. His car and motorcycle are easy targets to follow. It’s stealthier this way, especially at night when they can camouflage into the shadows.
Once they arrive, he can seal the shelter from the inside by completing the last line of spell glyphs with his blood, right across the entrance door that’s identical to the one in their real home. The place should hold them for a while.
“Make this worth it.”
Onyx and Nimbus’ last message rings inside Harry’s head, incapacitating his senses and giving him vertigo as he charges forward blindly, confiding in Y/N to guide them to their destination.
He’d heard their final words right before he felt their life forces be torn from his own; the bond of a hellhound to a demon, being severed permanently by what can only be one thing. The only way to cut such a profound tie.
Death's unique type of pain was also familiar to him, from his first interaction with it seven centuries ago. First it’s sharp and searing hot, overwhelming your whole being, then it drops to an invasive numb cold, like being boiled and then plunged into ice water. Then comes a feathery, lightheaded ache at the base of the skull, as if your very soul is detaching from where your mind is anchored to your body, and then it feels like you’re floating away, being carried off by a swift draft. Then nothing. Just a vast emptiness, so hollow and desolate it’s suffocating.
From his experience, he’s found no other form of pain that could possibly feel that deep and condemning. The sensation is one of kind, and therefore undeniable.
He lurches forward with newfound energy, gritting his teeth through the pounding in his head, tapping into his grief for fuel. He won’t let their sacrifice be in vain.
apologies if you’ve already answered this/made something about it canon already but i was wondering if angel can like use her powers on demonrry to calm him down/make him feel better when he’s upset? if that makes any sense at all, i just always thought that would be so sweet if when he’s having a particularly stressful day that couldn’t be helped by just talking it out if she could just like *mwah* his forehead and oop- all better!
omg I’ve actually never thought of this before hello???
but now that you’ve mentioned it, I feel like she’d absolutely do it!! She can use her powers to heal physical pain/wounds, so she’d get curious to see if it could work on a deeper level, as well.
And you know when it would come up?? Whenever he has one of his nightmares 🥲 can you imagine??
She’d lay her palm against the scars on his heaving chest while talking to him in a gentle, hushed tone, reassuring him that it was just a dream and that he’s safe and nothing is going to hurt him.
He’s looking at her with large, wild eyes, like a cornered animal desperately trying to find an escape route. His gaze is fractured and scared; he can’t discern reality from what isn’t, and he's fighting the primal urge to run away— to cower and hide, craving solitude in order to lick his wounds on his own terms. He hates letting her see him in this state— so weak and vulnerable, so vastly different from his usual confident, strong, nonchalant demeanor.
This isn't the person she fell in love; it's a broken shell of someone he used to be, and he'd always promised himself no one would ever witness it but him. It's a part of his life he worked so hard to lock away, and the fact that something as simple as a flashback can revert him back to such a fragile, feeble condition is beyond humiliating.
Harry survived decades of torture, years of rigorous training, and centuries of isolation, yet a mere memory has the ability to incapacitate him completely. It's degrading, and it makes him a sorry excuse for a demon.
Y/N manages to yank him out of his dark thoughts, as she typically does. Her hand suddenly starts glowing against his stuttering chest, the tips of her fingers dancing with golden rays of light. He flinches away on impulse, the brightness overwhelming his dilated pupils and cloudy sight.
“It's okay.” She murmurs, her voice soothing and delicate, yet firm. “You're alright, H. Just relax.”
The buttery light from her palm begins to spread through the veins under his skin, pulsing within his blood as it webs up his neck and across his taut shoulders. The magic untangles the tension from his muscles, causing his rigid spine to soften like clay. His breathing levels out and the shadows in his brain start to thin. His entire body gradually fills with a sense of comfort and tranquility, steeling his frayed nerves and calming his frenzied instincts.
Harry can tell she’s lending him some of her celestial strength, similar to how she does whenever she heals a cut or mends a broken bone. It's the same sensation of peace and compassion— a certain mellow heat in his limbs that radiates down to the marrow in his bones, evaporating any pain in its wake until it’s all gone.
Any corporeal afflictions Harry endures usually subside fast enough on their own— enhanced healing is part of his own powers, as well, though sometimes she’ll help speed it along for her own peace of mind. It’s easy, since he’s already mending himself, so supplying some extra care takes hardly any effort at all.
But when it comes to his dreams, it’s a very different story. This form of restoration is something much deeper; it takes more out of her, considering the damage runs through his soul, and it demands a heavier toll on the person providing the aid.
Regardless, Y/N always insists on helping because she knows this type of wound is one he can’t fix on his own. Harry’s healing only cures surface-level problems, whereas his girlfriend’s extends further and has the aptitude to ease emotional and mental distress. But by doing so, she takes on that distress herself— she absorbs it into her body and exchanges her vitality in return.
This means that during the process, she feels whatever he’s feeling— his bitterness, his fear, his agony, all of it. It’s one of the fundamental laws of the universe, human, demon, and angel alike: energy doesn’t just disappear, it has to be traded off. It can only be transferred, not destroyed. Therefore, she bargains her fortitude and takes his pain as a result.
Y/N claims it doesn’t hurt as much as he assumes; that it only lasts for a minute, until he manages to get his bearings, and then it fades away as everything balances out. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the fact that whenever she does it, Harry is essentially allowing her to shoulder all of his baggage until he gets his mind under control. And no matter what she says, she doesn’t hide it as well as she thinks she does; he can see her grinding her teeth through a clenched jaw, fighting off an anguished grimace as she blinks back tears from her glowing eyes.
It only adds another layer of loathing towards his nightmares, because it means his girlfriend has to deal with his issues just because he can’t deal with them himself. He’s allowing her to hurt herself for his sake.
But despite Harry’s countless protests, Y/N never hesitates when the moment comes, and he’s always too indisposed to stop her. She's stubborn that way, and though it worries him to death to let her carry his burdens, he can't deny how much he appreciates the relief that comes with the gesture. It feels like being released from a lead strait jacket, to where he can finally move and breathe and actually think again, instead of being frozen in some horrible loop.
So instead of resenting it or drowning in guilt, he’s tried to learn to accept it for what it is— a gift. A token of their relationship. No one has ever forfeited their strength in his interest, much less an angel, and even less an angel who happens to be in love with him.
“It is what it is.” She’ll reason after it’s all over, giving him a tender smile as they lay in bed with his head cradled against her chest, arms and legs intertwined. “It’s an angel thing; I was raised to sacrifice myself for the greater good. To me, the ‘greater good’ is helping you with your nightmares. I’m never going to just sit by and watch you suffer, whether you like it or not. Not when I can stop it.”
“I just don’t want you to put yourself through that.” He mumbles lowly, toying distractedly with the ends of her fingers, eventually letting his own sift between them. “You shouldn’t have to take my pain; I should be able to handle it myself.”
Y/N’s digits curl around his, squeezing his hand affectionately. Her voice comes out as a pleading whisper, her breath warm against the cold sweat that’s long dried across his forehead.
“When are you going to understand that you don’t have to anymore?”
he gets so soft it’s SICKENING like he’s always soft with her but he gets extra soft on Valentine’s Day, it’s precious 🥹
Like can you just imagine him kissing up her body delicately after eating her out, settling down beside her trembling frame with his temple propped on his fist nonchalantly, his free hand playing with the tips of her hair and rubbing his thumb across her damp, heated cheek. He’s trying to help her relax so she can get her sporadic breathing back in order, and he absentmindedly switches to caressing her face with the knuckle of his forefinger instead, preening at the way she cradles into his touch.
He doesn’t even notice he’s smiling until she points it out— one corner of his mouth is lifted in a fond little simper, and he can’t help but let it spread wider as she blinks up at him in a foggy stupor.
“What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing.” He murmurs quietly, gently tracing the slope of her nose and the ridges of her Cupid’s bow. “I just love you.”
He can feel her skin grow even warmer as a result of his affectionate confession, her voice weighing in small and timid. “Oh.”
One of Harry’s eyebrows inches upwards sarcastically. “Oh? That’s all you have to say?”
“I love you, too.”
“Obviously.”
Her features drop into a flat expression. “Don’t push it.”
demon bringing hemmy to angel after she chewed through his Spider-Man costume
he’d hand her over like
“Here, take your daughter.”
“Our daughter.”
“Any daughter that does this,” he uses his free hand to hold up his shredded custom-made Spider-Man suit, shaking it accusingly, “is no daughter of mine.”
“Just get a new one.”
“Get a new one?” Harry sputters out incredulously, glaring at her in utter disdain. “Fucking unbelievable.”
“It’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“It’s not about the money, it’s about the sentimental value!”
“H, it’s a fake superhero costume.”
“…So what you’re saying is you don’t love me.”
She rolls her eyes at his dramatics. “Great. Here we go again.”
“What you’re saying is you don’t care about my interests—”
Hemmy interrupts their argument, meowing in complaint as she writhes around in Harry’s grasp, attempting to escape. She blinks her big yellow eyes up at the demon, her empty gaze showing no remorse for her actions whatsoever.
Harry intakes a deep, measured breath and releases it slowly, reining in his irritation. He holds the tiny black cat out towards his girlfriend and drops her onto the couch cushions below, where she sinks into the pillows with a muffled chirp of surprise. “Take her before I turn her into a roach.”
But then later that day, Y/N finds them taking a nap together with Hemmy curled up against his neck, his cheek resting against the top of her head.
this is so demonrry and angel like eyes closed and just smooching and demonrry nestled in close 😭😭😭
https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNDPhLKd/
stop bc he’s truly such a softie like he pretends he isn’t but whenever angel’s relaxing on the couch with a blanket reading or watching tv, he crawls under it and lays his entire weight on top of her, nestling so close that she swears he’s trying to crawl under her skin.
But she’s used to it so she just wordlessly starts giving him back scratches and forehead kisses while continuing whatever she was doing. And he practically preens under her touch, a little shiver running down his spine as he buries his face deeper into her neck and takes a deep breath bc he just adores her familiar scent. And when she starts laughing because it tickles, he does it over and over just to torment her.
“Stop it!”
“I don’t think I will.”
“Ever heard of personal space?”
“We’re practically married; what’s yours is mine, including your space.”
