Where the Angels Fall Isaac Foster X Reader Demon AU

The Devil is Real and he's in my Apartment

The keys jingled in the door as I stepped through the threshold of my apartment, soaked head to toe from the heavy summer storm. I shivered as I began to lock the door behind me.

'Jesus, what do I have the A.C. at?'

"Fucking humans, never home anymore. Who the hell do they think they are?"

My muscles instantly seized and my bag, also drenched from the elements, dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. 

The man in the kitchen abruptly stopped talking, and panic flooded through my body. My feet stuck to the floor, and my breathing became shallow and fast. I'd always heard about scary men breaking into young girls' apartments and doing horrible things. But I had taken every precaution to avoid it, the proper locks on my windows and door, I'd made sure the apartment was in a decent neighborhood with decent people. So how, pray tell, did this happen to me?

"There ya are." 

A large man stepped into my line of vision. He had to be well over 6 feet, he was covered in what appeared to be dried blood, and a large, also bloodied, scythe rested over his shoulder.  The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up, ominously shadowing his face. 

I wanted to move, throw the door open, start running, and never look back. But my body refused to. My muscles felt tense, like they were made of stone. He was medusa and I had made the awful mistake of looking him in the face. I swallowed thickly as we continued to stare at each other. 

I noticed how bruised and cut-up what little I could see of his face was, my eyes wandered to his abdomen where he held a hand loosely over a bleeding wound.

I swallowed once again, opening my mouth to speak. Surprisingly, I was able to form actual sentences.

"Do you need help?" I paused, pursing my lips, "You look hurt. Do you need me to call someone?" it came out quieter than I would have liked, but I needed to seem unsuspecting. For all knew he was an innocent and injured man who had wandered into my apartment looking for help. The longer I stalled, the better.

He chuckled. Low and dark. Coughs scattered in between quiet laughter.

"Playin' nice won't get ya much of anywhere right now, sweetheart," his voice was even darker than his laughter. 

"But... If you help me out here, I might consider letting you live."

"Might consider isn't really good enough for me right now, buddy. I've got exams to study for, and I'm not wasting time helping you out if I'm going to die anyways." 

His eyes widened before he descended into laughter. It wasn't intimidating or menacing like before. It was a genuine laugh, like I had cracked a joke.

"Ballsy, aren't we?" He mocked.

Honestly, I was just as surprised as he was, but shock is known to do strange things to the brain.

He stared at me for awhile before speaking again, "Alright, alright. You've got a deal, you patch me up and I won't kill ya. Promise."

I didn't quite know why, but his promise seemed just as sincere as his laughter. Maybe it was just that I was desperate, grasping on to any sense of hope that maybe I would escape this with my life, but I couldn't sense a hint of deceit. 

I nodded slowly, " You can sit at the table, I'll go see if the first aid kit has anything useful."

He eyed me suspiciously. Understandably, I guess.

"I can leave my phone at the table with you or something, if that makes you feel better?" I proposed. 

I was still baffled at how calm I had remained, maybe studying to work in the ER as a college student without a penny to your name does that to a person. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline, and as soon as it wore off I would break down into the heaving sobs and hyper-ventilation of a panic attack. Who could tell?