#hgkjhgkjhgljhg i have a test tomorrow O.ooo

[whumping-every-day]

Backhand Slap

Option D was overwhemlingly the majority, so here we have it! Many thanks to everybody who put in a request :) And I will still be doing Callum + stitches, which was the second most requested option. This is set fairly early into Gabriel’s time with Stefan and Maria, about two months after chapter 3!

Masterlist 

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The mug shatters on impact, and Gabriel stares past numb fingers as the dark liquid spreads across the tiled floor. It’s a dream, he thinks. It has to be a dream.

“Sweetheart? Everything okay in there?”

Gabriel flinches at the sound of Mistress’s voice, and his whole body floods with dread.

It’s not a dream. 

He looks back at the mess at his feet, and suddenly there’s a ringing in his ears. 

Gabriel’s staring at the mess, and at the remains of what he knows was Mistress’s favorite coffee mug, and he can’t breathe. He can’t move, can’t think, and it’s like there’s a band around his chest, constricting with every inhale. 

“Gabe?” 

The second time Mistress calls for him it snaps Gabriel out of his stupor. He’s quaking as he falls to his knees, trying frantically to scoop up the shattered pieces. There’s not enough air in the room, and Gabriel’s hands shake so badly that one of the pieces slices into his palm, drawing a hiss of pain from behind his teeth. 

He has only seconds. Gabriel is hyper aware of the doorway, and of whoever might fill it at any moment, because as soon as they step into the kitchen they’ll see what he’s done. There’s a hitched sob lingering in his throat as he manages to get the cabinet door open. The biggest pieces go in the garbage just as Gabriel hears his Mistress get up in the living room. 

He whimpers on the next exhale when he looks back at the mess. It’s too much, his pitiful attempts at cleaning haven’t done anything to conceal his transgression. The coffee had hit the ground and splattered, all over the cabinets and the legs of the table.

Gabriel is huddled in the middle of the mess when Mistress’s shadow falls over him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, Mistress, please, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t mean to - oh, sweety, you’re bleeding.” 

Gabriel doesn’t mean to, but he shies away from his Mistress’s outstretched hand. There’s a sharp pain in his knee, but Gabriel’s eyes are blurring with tears, he can’t even see the shard of ceramic he must be kneeling on. He keens softly, miserably, cowering on the kitchen floor.

“Please,” he gasps again, but when he dares a glance up, Mistress’s face is harsh with tension. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to stop moving around,” she murmurs, and it’s gentle but commanding, a tone that immediately has Gabriel stiffening to obey. “You’re not in any trouble,” she adds. “If you move you’ll get cut worse. Just... stay where you are, okay? Stay.” 

Gabriel’s ears are still ringing, and he’s still trembling. But he latches onto the command even as he quivers and snatches in quick, unsteady breaths. He’s not sure what he’s more afraid of; his Mistress’s anger, or her disappointment.

“Stefan!” Mistress calls, and Gabriel flinches like the word was a slap. He looks up at his Mistress with big eyes, and whimpers softly when Master calls something back from upstairs. 

They’ve been merciful enough to let Gabriel learn from his mistakes, so far. But this is not a mistake he can learn from, not without punishment. This a lessen that has to be ground into him, beaten in until he can remember it. 

They haven’t punished him yet. But somehow, Gabriel has always suspected (or feared) that when the time came, it would be Master that delivered it. 

Master is bigger than Mistress. Master will hit much harder. And he doesn’t know their limits yet, doesn’t know how much punishment they will make him take before he’s forgiven. 

His Master rounds the corner then, saying something to his sister, but Gabriel doesn’t hear what. The room is spinning, suddenly, and he can’t even feel the blood trickling from his palm and down his wrist, or the shard biting into his knee. He can’t feel the cold tile under his knees, or the way he’s shaking apart.

Gabriel’s whole world is narrowing, and when someone takes a step towards him the boy bleats in blind terror and scrambles backwards. More shards get embedded in soft skin, and blood streaks the unforgiving tile, but Gabriel doesn’t feel it.

“Gabriel? Gabriel, it’s alright, please, stop moving, you’re okay - oh, shit.” The words are said in quick succession as Gabriel cries out and then launches himself backwards, away from Stefan’s approaching figure.

Stefan stops, quickly falling into a crouch – but the damage is done. Gabriel has gone glassy-eyed and panicked, and he keens again and claws weakly at the cabinets when Stefan tries to shuffle closer.

“Oh, god, his feet, Stefan-”

“I see it,” Stefan mutters. He’d been in his study when Maria had called, and he understands why – he’s in shoes and she isn’t. She’s watching anxiously from the edge of the shards, and Stefan carefully scooches a bit closer.

Gabe sobs at his approach, and Stefan grits his teeth.

“Mari, I’m going to grab him,” he says quietly. “Can you-”

“Tweezers and the first aid kit,” Maria mutters, already nodding. “I’ll be right back.” Gabriel whines piteously as she leaves, blue eyes staring desperately after her.

“Gabe?” Stefan tries one more time, but the sound of his voice just has the boy crying harder, twisting uselessly against the cabinets. Every motion smears more blood across the floor.

Stefan moves with purpose; there’s no way to make it less frightening, so Stefan focuses on speed as he pushes to his feet, strides over to where Gabriel is cowering, and scoops him up. The boy wails at the contact, and he’s breathing in short, terrified bursts, eyes squeezed shut.

Stefan carries him out of the circle of broken ceramic, and then carefully sets him down again. The moment he’s put down, Gabriel starts whimpering apologies again.

“ ‘m – ‘m s-sorry, Master,” he cries. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry-”

Stefan opens his mouth to interrupt, but Gabriel’s not hearing him. Their sweet pet is cowering against the wall and babbling apologies, and it breaks Stefan’s heart.

“Gabe,” he tries. “Gabriel, sweetheart, please listen to me. I promise it’s okay, you’re not in trouble. It was an accident, I know…”

It’s like the boy doesn’t even hear him, and his gasping inhales are starting to take on a wheezing quality. He’s panicking himself into passing out, still bleeding all over the floor and shaking like a leaf, and Stefan closes his eyes for a moment as he realizes what has to happen.

“Gabriel,” he tries, one last time. It’s firmer, commanding, but there’s still nothing. Gabriel’s eyes are open but distant, and he’s still apologizing in hitched, pitchy little whimpers.

The boy’s skin has gone ashy pale, and Stefan is hyper aware of his own strength as he lifts a hand and smacks him across the cheek.

It’s not hard, just enough to startle, and to leave a faint red print against Gabriel’s cheekbone. Stefan feels sick inside, but the boy’s apologies have stopped. In fact, everything has stopped.

The boy is hanging there, head turned to the side and mouth open, not even breathing. But then the lack of oxygen makes itself known, and Gabriel drags in a shuddering gasp and collapses down to his hands and knees.

“Tha-ank you M-Master,” he croaks. “Thank you for, for teaching m-me better.” He’s still unsteady, still trembling, but when Stefan sinks lower into his crouch Gabriel’s eyes follow him, no longer absent and glassy.

“Are you hearing me again, sweetheart…?” There’s nothing in Stefan’s voice so much as sadness, and Gabriel whines softly in response. But he nods, lifts a hand to cup his cheek. “Okay. That’s good, sweetheart, good boy.”

It makes Stefan’s stomach turn to praise him now, but Gabriel clings to it like he always does.

The boy’s cheek is stinging, but it won’t bruise. Gabriel can tell that already, and he doesn’t quite understand. Master is certainly capable of dishing out a proper punishment, a real lesson. But instead he’s chosen to be lenient with his disobedient pet.

“Do you understand why I did that, bud…?” Gabriel balks, and answers timidly.

“B-because I deserve, I deserved it.”

“No, sweetheart.” Master shakes his head, and Gabriel flinches. “I did it because you were panicking, and there are sharp bits of ceramic all over the floor. If you move you will get hurt more.”

It’s like the words bring all the pain rushing back, and Gabriel’s breath catches as he looks down at his knees. The blood is rude and garish against the grey tiles, smeared on his clothes, all over his hands. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, and Master shakes his head again.

“I want you to listen, bud. Can you?” Gabriel nods again, sniffling softly. “Good. This is very important. You are not in any trouble. This was an accident, and-” Master hesitates just for a moment, and Gabriel thinks he sounds almost pained. “And you’ve been punished already. So there is no more coming. Do you understand?” Gabriel nods again, but Master must sense his uncertainty. “Say it back for me, sweetheart,” the man instructs gently. “Say the words.”

Gabriel’s throat feels clogged, but he sniffs again and tries. “I, I’m not in any – any t-trouble.” It sounds like a lie, feels like a lie, but Master nods encouragingly, so Gabriel tries again. “I-I’m not in t-trouble.” It’s a bit steadier, the second time, and Master smiles.

“Good. That’s probably hard for you to believe, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” The boy eases visibly under the encouragement, even if he’s not quite sure he believes it, yet.

Stefan gestures to one of the chairs. “I’m going to put you in a chair for now, okay? Your mistress is coming back soon with the first aid kit.”

It’s not really a question, Gabriel knows, and he clings to his Master’s sweater when he’s picked up again. He’s still trembling faintly with the leftover adrenaline, but he goes where he’s put, and Master pulls up a second chair so that their knees touch.

“Thank you, Master,” the boy mumbles.

“Sure thing, bud,” the man answers quietly.

When Maria gets back with the first aid kit, she doesn’t comment on the red mark on Gabriel’s cheek. But she fixes Stefan with a long, challenging look, and the guilt in his eyes is answer enough.

She pulls the pieces of ceramic out of Gabriel’s flesh shard by shard, then cleans them and bandages his feet. When she finishes he thanks her, and she smiles and says of course.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispers, and it’s quieter than before, just for them. Maria pauses in putting the gauze away, reaching out to gently squeeze his shoulder.

“Hey, now. You didn’t mean it.” Gabriel nods, but he’s still frowning.

“It – it was-” It seems to be taking a lot of effort, and Gabriel winces, shrinking in on himself.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Maria murmurs. Stefan is nearby in the kitchen, listening but not engaging. Gabriel hesitates, braces himself, starts again.

“It was your – your favourite,” he mumbles guiltily. “The mug, it was – you s-said it was your favourite, and I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m – I’m sorry.” It’s not as panicked as before, but it’s even more miserable, as if breaking a mug is an unforgivable sin.

“Oh, Gabe.” Maria is careful when she extends a hand, and she doesn’t drop it until Gabriel reaches out to take it. She squeezes gently, running a thumb over the back of his hand. “You are much more important to me than some silly mug,” she says seriously. “To both of us.”

Gabe looks up timidly, as if seeking confirmation. His Mistress’s eyes are just as warm as they always are, and when he risks a peek over at Master, the man nods in agreement.

“Way more important,” he murmurs.

Gabriel inhales, and suddenly it’s wet.

Mistress closes the first aid kit and tidies up the remnants of bandages on the table, and Master sweeps up the remaining shards. By the time they are finished Gabriel’s eyes are dry again, and his breathing is mostly under control. But there’s still something reverent in his eyes as they help him upstairs, and when Master wraps his arms around him Gabriel holds on tight.

His cheek is tender when he rests it on his pillow, but Gabriel doesn’t shy away from it. The pain is a reminder. He’d done wrong today, and Master had cared enough to make him better.

They have been so gentle with him, these two, but that night, as he drifts off to sleep, it’s the faint pain in his cheek that Gabriel takes comfort in.