#backhanded slap

Day 23: Can't Do This Anymore (Rex)

Rex struggles with nightmares after Kadavo

Shoutout to @whyamismall for the ideas on this one! You have have the best ideas on how to whump poor Rex, really, and I couldn't help but combine a few.

cw: mention of slavery, injuries. It's dark but nothing explicit.

Credit and big thanks to @deckofaces for inspiring how Kai and Y/N met! (Note- y/f/c= your favorite color)

Kai Masterlist

              Y/N swam between schools of fish, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Any magical object, maybe something to wish on; she wasn’t sure what to look for, but she was desperate enough to look anyway. Since being cursed, she would turn into a mermaid anytime she touched water. That included a shimmering, y/f/c tail, webbed ears, and little scales peppered sparsely across her body. Her mer form was beautiful, but it was a hassle at best, even if it did include the ability to breathe underwater.

              Y/N was so focused on treasure hunting that she didn’t notice the shadow forming over her until it was too late. Y/N looked up just as a net descended beneath the surface. Her and the schools of fish began to swim in evasive patterns. Their efforts were in vain, however; the fish were caught immediately, and Y/N with them. Y/N struggled to get out of the net, but her tail and arms had gotten tangled in it during her efforts to escape. Y/n could do nothing but struggle and wait for the net to get hauled up out of the water.

              Within moments, she was hauled on deck of a pirate ship. The fish around her flopped helplessly in the net. Y/N got smacked in the face several times by their fins.

              “Good work men,” a voice echoed, “we’ll be able to fetch a fair price for these at port.”

              Fishermen. Hopefully they were the benevolent type.

              Y/N yelped as the net was dragged across the ground.

              “Wait,” the voice said, “what is that?”

              The net stopped moving, and Y/N was uncomfortably aware that she was being watched. A young man stood over her, a grin on his face.

              “Hello there,” he said, “what have we here?”

              “Um, hello,” Y/N said sheepishly.

              Y/N tried to wave, but the net tangled around her arms made that difficult.

              “Hehe,” Y/N laughed nervously, “I was just passing by when your net caught me. I don’t suppose you could…?”

              Y/N looked down at the tangled mess for emphasis. The fisherman blinked, then laughed.

              “Of course, little fish,” he said, “hold still.”

              The fisherman dragged Y/N to the center of the deck, then pulled out a knife. He cut through the ropes, being careful not to hurt Y/N.

              “Thank you,” Y/N said, “thank you very much.”

              “It’s no trouble at all,” the fisherman said, “my name is Kai, what might you be called?”

              “I’m Y/N,” Y/N answered, “now if you could just throw me back, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Kai smiled. He wordlessly slid an arm under Y/N’s tail and another behind her back, lifting her up in a bridal carry. Y/N tried to ignore how Kai’s men gawked at her as he carried her, not to the ship’s railing, but to the captain’s cabin.

              “Wait, where are we going!?” Y/N asked, “you have to throw me back!”

              “But we’ve only just met, little fish,” Kai said, “it would be rude to leave without getting to know each other first. Not that I’ll be letting you leave, but the point still stands.”

              “What!?”

              “As captain of Calypso’s Wrath, I am responsible for managing all of the treasure we collect. And you are certainly the finest addition to the collection.”

Calypso’s Wrath? That did not sound like a fisherman’s ship.

              “Y-you,” Y/N gulped, “you’re not a fisherman, are you?”

Kai looked down at Y/N and laughed out loud.

              “What a naïve little thing you are,” Kai said, “I am Kai Nelson, the captain of the most feared pirate ship this side of the globe.”

              As Kai spoke, he set Y/N down in a large, glass tank filled with water.

              “I was going to use this to house rare species of fish,” Kai explained, “but you’re more valuable than anything else I could catch.”

              “Please,” Y/N said, sitting up so that her upper half poked out of the tank, “let me go. I haven’t done anything to you, I’m nothing of value-”

              A backhanded slap tore across Y/N’s face faster than she could perceive it.

              “Nothing of value?” Kai said darkly, “I’ll be the judge of that. I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself with any lesser treatment than you deserve. Understand?”

              Y/N nodded with wide eyes, rubbing the side of her face.

              “Alas, little treasure, I must leave you for now,” Kai said, “the men get rowdy without instruction you know.”

Kai left the room, closing the cabin door behind him. The reality of Y/N’s situation sunk in and tears welled in her eyes. Y/N would cry for a good long while before the beginnings of an escape plan would form in her mind.

So, I’m taking a little break from Henry’s recovery arc -- the last few installments are tearing my heart out and I need breaks -- to dig back into Emmett’s time with Rhiannon. It’s less than fun, to be sure, so fair warning ahead. This one is for the @badthingshappenbingo prompt “Backhand Slap.” And I sincerely hope you see where this is going dear, reader -- AND I hope you enjoy!

Passing Notes Masterlist

Tags: @lave-whump, @highwaywhump, @pebbledriscoll​ (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the list!)

Warnings: BBU general warning; pet whump, captivity themes, romantic whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, broken-down whumpee; anger, frustration, fear reaction, anger reaction, the whumpee snaps; backhanded slap, punishment/retribution, noncon touch. Mentioned past noncon. Be warned.

~*~*~

It was endless.

She wanted and wanted and wanted that morning. 

She wanted eggs Benedict and a “perfect” lavender London Fog for breakfast, then fresh sliced strawberries for her bath an hour later. She wanted rose-scented bath salts and skin-softening oil added to the water, then insisted he strip her naked and take his shirt off. Water sloshed over his shirt front when she yanked him towards the bathtub’s edge. She demanded photographs of her in the water, that particular record spinning in the background. The orange one with the penguin on the front. The one featuring her name.

Then another tea to accompany the ordeal of her skincare routine, outfit selection, and complicated lunch order. All before driving her to a fresh audition.

She was coming off the high of two stage castings, insisting she deserved another film role after her somewhat-lauded first performance. She chattered about it the whole drive, correcting his driving and prodding him in the ribs at red lights when he didn’t lavish her with enough compliments to “boost her self esteem.”

He held his tongue and gave her what she wanted.

Words lodged in his throat, preventing him from swallowing.

He didn’t think about how much he wanted to scream them at her.

@badthingshappenbingo​ [Original characters and content for prompt - Backhand Slap] Special thanks to @simplygrimly​ and @lettuceknighted​ for all their help and it was a lot! I feel like a child learning to walk and you guys held my hand throught this ;) --------------

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (You and I, Me and you: Chapter 9)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Below the belt.

“Should’ve given me a chance if you really wanted to know. But you know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, try try again.”. Her voice echoed in the cell and in his head. Jared clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes as she seemingly, threatened his life. Her words were blatant too and hurtfully so. She twisted the words he used to encourage her playfully. Not that she had any way to act on her words. Does she really want me dead, then? He looked down at the implement in his hand. And he hated her for being right. He could not simply channel the spirit of someone like Scarlett… Brutally, and yet, systematically thrashing a victim with a cane, especially an incapacitated one like Akira. Especially against Akira herself. It was not something Jared could pull off, not unless he absolutely had to. And he hated being in that situation, he had been there too many times.

But there were other things he could do… Death would merely be an unlikely sequela. In the end, it was an inevitability any way. He recognized that some part of his brain, did not quite reject that outcome as vehemently as it should have. He let the thought come… and go. No, I won’t let her take anything from me anymore. Besides, I’m better. Jared snorted. “Yeah? You wanna have a go… Shira?” She looked at him resolute, neck slightly craned to accommodate for the collar. Her eyebrows shot up with a certain eagerness. Tempers were smouldering. “You really are that curious, eh?” He answered by shoving his hand into his pocket, he clicked something, and the collar expanded. “The chain needs a valve, but the lock opens with a button…” She muttered with a mild fascination, it had enough room for her to wriggle it off her head, but it was heavy enough to require some effort.

He kept his distance and chuckled at her observation. “Didn’t expect us to employ designed theatrics?” A part of her could not fathom why he still insisted on associating himself with SpecSyn. It was her turn to slow clap. She beamed with mocking exaggeration. “Congratulations, my Red Knight! You have successfully risen to the level of your enemy. Because, honestly. SpecSyn does play nastier don't they? Either way, aren’t you proud?” Her accusation was against him as much as it was against the organization she had sworn her loyalty to. So she just decided that SpecSyn was nastier? Is that why she decided to simply stop doing her job? She really had a knack for killing the small joys he was trying to derive. The ghost of his chuckle echoed in the room. His palms were itching now. He dug his nails into them as he opened and closed his fist, stretching his fingers. “Go on then, get the shard, Akira, I’d hate for this to be one-sided.” Back to Akira instead of Shira. The sharper ache she had once felt at the loss of endearment, was much duller now.

She was tired, she was hungry, she was addled, and she was pissed. So, she leapt off her feet and flung herself at him. That was just insulting and pathetic. He had enough time and warning. His free hand wound towards the opposite shoulder, then it swung towards her face, once she was close enough. Smack. The combined momentum was enough for the impact of his knuckles and fingers to knock her back. Her face swivelled. Everything blurred. She panicked briefly, but he did not follow up with anything… yet, and gave her a chance to compose herself. Was he going to draw this out? Was this some perverse lesson? She gasped and stumbled backwards, carefully avoiding the smaller pieces of glass still on the floor. She held her ground. The sting of the slap felt intense enough to leave a lingering sense of numbness. Her ear rang a little. Her tongue jutted out to catch the trickle of blood that snuck out of the corner of her mouth, her lip split a little. Slowly, she righted her head to glare at him again. He had successfully evoked the feral in her. Never, had he struck her like that before. So, it was truly over then. This was it. At least, that is what it felt like. Her breathing was uneven, so was his.

“You expected me to roll over and die for you, Shira?” A drawl was not a common tone for Jared, but it suited him fine now. She realised that he adopted Shira whenever he got his taste of a small victory. He is mocking me… by mocking us! Or… Despite her being the captive, the interrogee… Being at his mercy, maybe she still had some hold over the situation. A part of her revelled in that knowledge. She wished to savour it for as long as she could. The power struggle between them was palpable. Akira wasn’t sure about killing him before, but she sure as hell wanted to now. An animalistic war-cry tumbled out of her lips. She threw herself at him yet again, but this time, her leap was measured.

He really did not peg her for the sort to make the same mistake twice. But then, she was being bullishly bellicose. Was she still not thinking with her head? He decided to use the cane this time, swinging it over his head almost warningly as she got closer. She did not stop. So, he decided to follow through. But he should have trusted his hunch. She was thinking with her head alright.

She did not simply lunge at him, she had a plan. Akira stepped in, towards him. Her arm shot straight out, as a wedge between him and his outstretched limb. Hers was flattened against her ear and blocked the incoming strike before he got the full-swing’s worth. The stick slid against her; she rolled her arm over his, to lock his stick-wielding wrist. Before he had the chance to wriggle out of this, which he certainly could manage with sheer brute force, she jabbed her knee into his crotch, once… twice, reared up for thrice but couldn’t follow through as her hatred waned. He exhaled sharply, then grunted as he keeled forward. The other hand caught her knee, her hesitance gave him time. “Below the belt… really?” A raspy, strained voice called her out. She would have retorted that after the slap, this barely left them even. But she was more interested in shutting him up.

She rearranged her knee, pulling it closer to herself. Her joint whisked his blocking hand on the way to its target: his face. He pulled away enough to prevent a nose break and almost opened his mouth to let his teeth graze flesh, but he did not want to fight dirty, or worse… end up with his teeth knocked in. His lips split in two places too. All he had to do, was to wait for her to make a mistake, because he was certain she would. She manoeuvred him to the floor, with his arm still in her grip. She pivoted him, by twisting the arm cruelly, as he fell. She ensured that he landed on to the glass shards on the floor. The cane slipped out of his hand. “Here, have your god-damn shards.” She hissed pressing his face into the ground with her knee and holding his arm in a lock, her hip flush against his elbow.

The small cuts against his jaw and cheekbones spouted crimson. But there were other pressing matters to deal with. Literally. Something was pressing against a joint he was rather attached to. Her legs stretched over his throat and neck as she sat back, with his arm pulled across her. She kept her elbows tucked in and his wrist in a strong lock as she slowly bucked upwards, rolling her hip against his outstretched elbow. “Having fun?” His words were still laboured, but the implication in his voice almost made her head cloud again. Almost. Keeping her motion controlled so she could draw this out, took effort, so her own voice was worn too. “You betcha!” But to show him that she was serious, she notched upwards just a little faster and just a little higher. He drew a sharp breath; he choked out a sound and swore with anguish. “F-FUCK…” Akira could have sworn she heard something crack. She loosened her grip.

In fact, she had not heard a thing, because nothing was broken. He was still reeling from the explosive pain between his legs. But his arm was fine. He flexed his elbow, it was close the fork between her legs now. In a moment of flitting anger, Jared considered taking revenge for the crotch shots but thought better of it. He sharply tucked his arm towards himself. His wrist slipped out of her grip. The moment the hold was broken, the two of them snapped away from each other, and they got to their feet in a hurry. I will walk away a better man.

Barely though, he did just test her concern for him and was surprised to find it was still there. He was not happy about the tactic he used, especially because it worked. In the recesses of his mind, he wished she did not betray any evidence of feelings that she may or may not have for him. That uncertainty, complicated things, in intent and in action. Akira let out a hollow, giddy giggle, it cracked the words she used to call out his cheap tactic. “I thought I’d be able to tell if you were ever faking it.” He rolled his eyes and absently flicked his thumb over the cuts on his face, to assess the damage. Expectedly, the touch elicited a sharp sting across the wounds and viscous crimson painted his skin.

She stumbled backwards to keep her distance, till her back was flush against the wall. “I mean… You could never tell when I did.” Her words dripped with bitterness. Naturally, she was hurt that he had exploited the fact that she still cared, it came as a surprise to her too. Now that it had been used against her, that tendon of attachment broke like the arm had not. It made her want to hurt him again. Somehow.

He had never paid much mind to the lurking feelings of inadequacy when it came to her, of not being social enough, happy enough… experimental enough. She had never let him dwell on it too, not until she left for Q.B… and met someone else, or so it seemed. It was not the original source of his antagonism towards her. He did not wish ill upon her for moving on as the distance and circumstance made communication impossible. But, with the backdrop of friction and guilt, her words touched a nerve he did not know had been exposed all this time. Neither did she.

Jared was unexpectedly swift. He really should not have let her petty words drive him to lash out. And he realised as much, in the time it took for him to close the distance and throw a punch. She barely managed a guiding parry and a small side-step away from him. The air his motion perturbed, whisked against her side. His knuckles collided with the wall. His own aim had wavered enough for him to miss, just barely. Her side step assured it. He was glad he did, even though, this time something did break. He groaned, but his fist remained against the wall and his arm stood like a fence between them. Aki’s fear rose like bile. She swallowed. If that had connected, she would be… considerably hurt. Without giving her a chance to recover from the shock, or himself from the pain, he stepped in closer yet and folded his elbow. His forearm fell across her throat. His shoe fell across her bare feet. Panic. There was the mistake he had been expecting. She tried to claw her way away from the wall and he let her, just enough to slip his arm around her throat. That's it then, for real this time. He's going to kill me. She thought as the arm coiled around her like a snake, tightening to slowly choke the life out of her. She almost wished she had taken the chance to tell him everything. She felt just as breakable as his arm and just like she could not break a limb, he certainly couldn’t break her. He did pull his arm towards him and squeezed, carefully. Not to kill, just to neutralise. As he slowly felt the struggle melt out of her body, his rage followed suit and melted out of him. She slackened in his hold.

The Whumpers’ Soirée - @the-whumpers-soiree - Continuation from Among friends

-

With a little help from the doorman, Whumper managed to carry his new prize off to his car and he fondly looked at the man sprawled over the backseat. But while he was sleeping peacefully now, he knew there was going to be hell as soon as the guy would wake up.

“Don’t suppose you got any handcuffs?” he muttered to the doorman, more lost in his own thoughts than actually expecting an answer.

But the doorman held up a finger, gesturing for him to wait, and disappeared inside. When he returned, he flipped the man over to lie onto his stomach and cuffed his hands behind his back.

“That’s a nice ring,” Whumpee said, eyes on the seal ring their captor was wearing.

The compliment was swiftly repayed.

A harsh backhand snapped their head to the side. The ring left a cut under their cheekbone.