#willow writes
I was going to do something else but then this happened
warnings: conditioning, fucky headspace, self-worth issues, past torture, broken bones
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The demon had never understood human affection. The way mortals craved attention, love, each other. To be held, kissed, and comforted. He knew they all wanted it. He’d made them want it—to always want more more more—
Stop.
The demon’s breath hitched at the entrance of an impure thought, caught inside his throat. He buried his face deeper into the crook of the witch’s neck, wanting to hide from what he expected to come for him. The lash of a whip, the burn of holy water, the pain from the memory of his former life.
Yet there was no more pain. Well, he still felt it everywhere in his body, all those bleeding welts and unhealed gashes that tore open his skin and flayed his back into mere shreds like it was nothing more than simple cloth. The bruises and the broken bones, the unending hunger that gnawed at him. the burn of the holy water that still coursed through his veins, a fire eating him alive from the inside. But no, no fire. He was not consumed with fire, with treachery, with punishment.
He was alright.
Yes, this. He burrowed into the embrace of the witch who’d summoned him, desperate for safety and reassurance.
He’d never understood the need for something like this in his old life, only that he knew others wanted it, which made him want it as well. He wasn’t sure if he knew now what he wanted, but at least it made him feel less like he could blow away on the wind and disappear completely.
It kept him tied to this place. The more he held onto the witch, the more attached to reality he became, less caught up in the horrific visions that played out in his mind.
He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, but the witch never left him. Her hands brushed through his hair and her voice whispered to him from above, soft and gentle and unlike anything he had ever experienced. Her touch was feather-light and unrestrictive, and the demon knew he could break away if he wanted to. He didn’t want to.
He looked at the witch, who’s hands fell away from him and back to her sides.
“Wanna try again?” she asked.
The demon nodded, even though he really didn’t. He hadn’t realized how much simply moving would hurt—he’d been trapped in the summoning circle for the past few days and unable to go more than a few feet in any direction, and before that…
The demon gulped.
“Here,” the witch said.
She placed one of the demon’s arms over her shoulders and began to stand. The demon tried to move with her, despite the pain white-hot in his chest. His bones jutted together against the skin, threatening to break free from his body like a caged bird. The demon bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
He hadn’t even taken a single step yet.
“There you go,” the witch said softly.
She was pleased. Okay. This was good. Pleased was good. Pleased meant he wouldn’t be hurt. He had to keep going, no matter the pain, no matter his insignificant injuries. He wouldn’t die—he was an immortal. The most important thing was to satisfy the witch right now. She was the one who held his fate in her hands; he was too weak to resist anything she might want to do to him. And he knew that humans, when pressed, could be as cruel as angels.
The demon bent at the knees and panted, but he was on his feet. His fingers dug into the witch’s shoulder and he settled them when he realized how hard he was squeezing, not wanting to anger her. She was kind. She hadn’t hurt him yet. He didn’t want to make her cross with him.
The moment he stopped relying on her support, he hit the floor. The demon’s side slammed into the rocky surface and he screamed, the sound released on an exhale as the impact knocked the wind from his body. His already-broken bones snapped and bumped against each other, causing flares of pain to radiate throughout his body.
Shattered.
The witch tried to catch him before he went down, but he slipped right out of her grasp and tumbled to the floor. She was at his side in an instant, kneeling before him. She bent her head over his and the demon felt strands of her hair brush over his bloody cheeks. He focused on the sensation of it rather than everything else as he screwed his eyes shut and tried to block out the pain.
The witch was saying something, but the demon couldn’t make it out. He felt her hands on his face, gently stroking away the tears.
Oh, he was crying again.
The witch adjusted herself and placed the demon’s head in her lap. She set a hand on his hair, and the other went to find his uninjured hand.
“I—hic—”
“Shh,” the witch whispered. “You don’t need to apologize.”
The demon tilted his head back to look up at her. That was exactly what he had meant to do. After all, that was the good thing to do—he had disrupted her plans and not followed a direction properly. He should have been punished for his failure, but to not be given his deserved pain was incredibly gracious. He had to at least let her know.
“I—I failed…you.”
The witch tilted her head to the side, her face a clear mask of confusion. She blinked a few times. The demon searched her eyes for any malice, yet he found none.
“What do you mean?” she asked, brow wrinkling.
The demon coughed, then pitched forward at the strain on his broken ribs. Blood dripped from his lips and down his chin. He opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t think of the right words to say. What kind of answer would she like? What if he said it wrong? But he had to say something, he couldn’t just leave her question unanswered or she would think it rude—
The witch gently squeezed his uninjured hand, breaking him away from his thoughts. “Nevermind. Let’s just try and get out of here.”
She helped the demon stand up again and he made sure not to let go this time. He decided to be bold and leaned his head on her shoulder too, and when she didn’t protest, he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. He could feel a small ripple of laughter run through her body, which delighted him more than he’d imagined it would. She’d only ever looked frustrated, sad, or angry, but if something he did could make her happy, then he would gladly do it over and over again.
“That tickles,” she said, her voice light as air.
Ah, the demon realized. His hair had brushed against her cheek.
He moved his head away, but the witch reached out a hand and gently moved his head back on her shoulder.
“I didn’t say you had to stop,” she added.
The demon breathed in, then out, shaky and unsure. The witch said it was alright, but how long would that last for? He didn’t know when she would get tired of him and throw him away—she could easily push him off the cliff if she wanted to. She could turn him in to whatever authorities dealt with demons here, and he could guess what sorts of torments he’d face then. He shivered.
He was too weak to fight back against her if she turned to violence. He was doing everything he could to stay on her good side but kept falling down when she tried to help him walk, and even as she soothed him, the demon wondered when those hands that caressed his face and wiped away his tears would soon sink their nails into his skin.
Even if the witch did want to hurt him, right now, she was the only one he had. There was nowhere else to go back to.
For now, this would have to be enough.
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next
taglist: @whumpsday@whump-cravings@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump@elrys-creates@cupcakes-and-pain@emcscared-whumps@wolfeyedwitch@inpainandsuffering@kira-the-whump-enthusiast
Description: a villain’s henchman brings back the wrong person on a mission and is punished severely for his failure.
Content: kidnapping, henchman whumpee, villain whumper, civilian caretaker, heroes and villains, piercing pull, beatings
warnings for the series: beatings, piercing pull, mouth whump, kidnapping, individual warnings listed at the beginning of each chapter
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continuous storyline:
Part 1: failure
Part 2: snap
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asides:
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picrews:
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other:
more to come…
we have not touched the stars; chapter 5/19
Alex doesn’t register it at first, completely wiped out and more than ready to go home and sleep. He doesn’t register it until Willie all but tackles him, laughing wildly and twirling him around as if no one is watching. And hell, for once Alex could care less if anyone is watching. They won.
Willie is red in the face and his hair is falling haphazardly out of his bun, despite mountains of hairspray, and there’s cheering and passive aggressive clapping, and they won. Alex swings his arms around Willie’s neck, laughing through the fatigue. At some point, Carrie tugs him away from Willie and kisses him sloppily on the cheek, leaving bright pink lipstick smudged across his cheekbone like paint. Paint.
heyyyy everyone i’m not dead. uhhh here’s this. i will now disappear. again.
tag list:@everything-insanity@flamingfawkes@phantombanana@mrsdoralupin@lunaleonorah@cinnamonstickrayofsunlight@dahliahs@julieandthequeers@sylphrenas@nat-gunderson@willex-molina
