#cassiel belanger
Cassiel Belanger belongs to @painful-pooch <3
Across the Stars and Through the Meadow Masterlist (Cas and Star AU)
Tagging the Star crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump
CW: referenced pet whump/BBU, angsty comfort, terminally ill whumpee, hospital whump
***
Star, in her slight drug-induced haze, watches her gorgeous, shirtless husband cook her dinner. They got home from the hospital late last night once her fever had passed, and spent most of today in bed.
In bed with his muscles…
Star shamelessly stares at him and wonders how she got so lucky. He had scooped her out of bed, kissed her on the forehead, and told her he’d make her pasta for dinner, carried her in his strong arms and set her down on the couch. Even though he hates needles, he helped her get her IV connected to her port to run her at-home infusion, draped a flannel blanket over her legs and kissed her again.
He did the buttons on her shirt so she didn’t have to struggle on her own, called Russo and told him they needed time off, tied her hair out of her face with his gentle, giant hands, helped her slide her wedding ring on.
Tonight feels like one of those nights where they’re all too aware of their situation. All too aware of how fragile she is, of how they’re running out of time together. Of how the pills on the table equal extra minutes they’ll get before she has to say goodbye to her true love.
It’s one of those nights where everything is right and wrong at the same time.
She looks up at the fairy lights above her head, at the walls around her. She knows each scuff mark, each picture, each story. Not as well as she knows Cas’s body. Knows the scars and divots and strong curves of muscle. She knows him better than she knows herself, and she loves every part of him.
He dashes some olive oil into a pan and looks back to smile at her.
She grins in return. Her beautiful, wonderful, amazing husband who she belongs to completely, and him to her, body, mind, and soul. Each aspect of their lives, they share.
He can’t promise her forever, but he did anyways in his vows.
Her husband looks unbelievably attractive in a suit, too. He looks attractive when doing anything, though. She just wants him to finish cooking so she can bury herself in his chest and be completely enveloped by her sexy Scottish man.
She’s so in love with him, every aspect of Cassiel Belanger couldn’t be more perfect.
It’s funny, it’s almost as though they were meant to find each other. But she’s never been a big believer in fate. They worked for this. They found each other when they needed it most. 728501 and 496173. Handler Greco’s prized possession and the man who couldn’t seem to forget his name. They found each other through violence, the fight the handlers wanted that never happened.
They found each other on the bathroom floor in the bar, Cas bleeding from the head and Star’s clothes torn apart. They found each other in a hospital room over and over as Star’s health ebbed and flowed. They lost each other in a hospital room too. They lost each other in a warehouse, they found each other in Faraday Abernathy’s mansion bearing more scars than before. They found each other and turned a white room to a street corner to an apartment.
Star holds her regrets so close to her head. She regrets not loving him sooner, she regrets hiding so much from him.
He carries her. He always carries her and he’s never going to stop until she’s gone.
Tonight is just one of those nights where everything feels real.
Her impending fate, a slow, painful death with no way to stop it, just delay the inevitable.
More importantly, though, their love feels real, like she can reach through the air and touch it. Little golden threads connecting her to her husband forever and always.
She can’t let go. She could never but it’s something she has to accept.
Star had accepted it at the beginning, was ready to stop taking her meds and die as quickly as possible. But then she learned that she was allowed to let herself be loved.
Maybe she wasn’t all bad, she wasn’t just a mutt after all.
She has value, and that value was given to her over and over by Cassiel Belanger.
Not many people are lucky enough to find a love like theirs. A love that’s not perfect and quiet but a fiery love, battle tested and hard earned, a love built to last.
Certainly not a pure love with the way she’s staring at him. Cas being shirtless does things to her.
Cas and the lamb, always and forever, forevermore free. The ending she’s always wanted but never thought she was good enough to earn.
When she dies, she won’t remember the bad stuff. Faraday and Rhys, the bar bathroom, her bad decisions made before their marriage, Handler Greco. Dr. Roth said she might lose some of her memory as her disease progresses, and she knows what she needs to hold onto.
It’s little snapshots and little moments in time.
Cas’s face lighting up when they first walked into their apartment.
Buying their first Christmas tree together and decorating it together.
Dancing in their living room to the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack, her standing on Cas’s feet in a yellow sundress, him singing so softly to her.
Cas rushing into her hospital room and doing his best every single time she’s there to make it feel more like home.
Him feeding her soup when her hands are too weak to hold a spoon.
Her burying herself against him, a blanket covering them both up, smelling the forest on his shirt.
Their wedding, seeing her future husband waiting for her after all the times they’ve suffered.
Could a pet, a monster, have loved like this? Could a lab-created dog have such a vibrant life?
No.
It’s through Cas that she realized that she isn’t a pet and never was, that WRU lied to them.
They’re not dogs.
They’re people who love and hurt and cry and smile. Real people who will be missed when they’re gone.
And maybe this feeling of being real can be overwhelming. If one thing is real, it’s all real, the good and the bad.
Overwhelming is good because it reminds her that she’s still here.
“Cas,” she murmurs. “Leave the food.”
He looks over at her in a mix of confusion and worry. She knows what’s going through his mind, the fears that immediately crop up. She could be feeling sick and need to go to the hospital where the doctors will try to rip her away from him again while her body breaks down. She could be denying herself food as a punishment for doing something wrong. Or it could be a flashback or trauma response because she doesn’t eat during those and that’s a whole other set of problems.
She just smiles and reaches her slender, scarred, strong hands out towards him, a bruise still on the back from her IV. “Leave the food,” she repeats. “Leave the food and get your gorgeous self over here to hold your wife.”
Star feels like dancing tonight. She feels like dancing and running and jumping around, but she knows she has limits and tonight? She should just relax and let Cas take care of her.
It was hard to acknowledge that. Hard acknowledging she couldn’t be the fighter she once was. To take that leap…it was painful. She was trained to be better than this. Trained to fight through pain, except when she feels pain, she knows now it’s a sign that something worse could be brewing in her.
Accepting her limits was a good decision. It makes the good days great and the bad days bearable. There’s good in taking a break.
She’ll always be his lamb, no matter what he does.
His lamb in a white t-shirt and black shorts and a collar.
His lamb behind the bar mixing up a drink.
His lamb in a hospital bed, tubes all over her body.
His lamb, forever and always.
Cassiel Belanger, making dinner for her while shirtless because he knows she likes to watch him, smiles at her and kisses her so softly, like she’s the most precious thing in the world.
Cassiel and Star Belanger, together forever.
For@whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 12 - Forced to Watch
Cassiel Belanger belongs to @painful-pooch and is used with permission
Continued HERE (coming soon)
Across the Stars and Through the Meadow Masterlist (Cas and Star AU)
Tagging the Star crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump
CW: EXPLICIT NONCON, NSFWHUMP, MINORS DNI, lady whump, BBU, former pet whumpees, dehumanization, derogatory language, degradation, self-hatred, defiant whumpee, this is fairly intense so let me know if I missed anything!
***
“Excuse me.”
Star turns around, one hand on her hip, the other holding an empty glass. Tonight’s been slammed, she’s barely had a minute to breathe, let alone go pop an Advil for the pain creeping into her bones. “Give me one moment, I’m making a drink.”
The man across the bar, the one who interrupted her, sheepishly smiles. He’s not unattractive, in his late twenties. His friends have been by the pool tables for the last thirty minutes, all playing horribly. “I’m afraid it can’t exactly wait. Someone’s in the bathroom, he seems really sick and I don’t know what to do.”
“Fine.” She sets the glass down and wipes her hands off. She looks around for her knife, better safe than sorry, but swears internally when she remembers that Cas took it because he thought she was in a bad mood this morning.
Damn you, Cassiel. She glares over at the kitchen, but all he does is wave eagerly at her.
Star steps out from around the counter. “Alright. Let’s go. The sick dude, he one of your friends?”
There’s a slight pause before the man answers, something off about his voice. “No. I just went in to…you know.” His laughter sounds forced, and Star doesn’t like how close he’s standing. Her fingers twitch, wishing she had her knife.
“Actually, you know what?” She says, stopping in her tracks. “Let me go grab the bouncer, if this guy’s really that drunk, I could use the help.”
The man puts his hand on her upper back. “I’m sure he’s busy. I’ll help you out if he gets too rowdy.”
Star looks over her shoulder, but she can see Andy busy checking people in at the door and watching over the crowd. “Yeah. Okay.”
They make it to the bathroom, and the man opens the door. “After you.”
She nods at him and steps in. The lights are off, and she fumbles for the light switch, but not before she hears the door lock behind her.
Starr finds the light switch, and her heart sinks at what she sees. There’s no sick man in sight. Instead, there are three other men standing there, one holding a switchblade.
“What the fuck!” Star yells, turning around to escape, but the man from before blocks her.
“Not so fast.” He steps forward, crowding her into the center of the room. “Don’t make a sound, little boxie, or Owen will slit your throat.”
They want her to fight. They want to take her back to WRU and make her into a good Guard Dog. They want to get the pretty finder’s fee on runaway pets.
Star stares defiantly at the man, a growl escaping her throat. “Let me out and I won’t shatter your skull.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Star whips around, seeing that each man has stepped even farther forward, boxing her in. Her heart pounds into her chest. Think. Be reasonable. If they want to take her to WRU, they probably have some drugs or something to knock her out. She just has to fight her way out of here.
She was always one hell of a fighting mutt.
Star shakes her head and takes up a defensive stance, slowly stepping around to make eye contact with each of the men. “I’ll kill you before I go back.”
“Go back where?” One of the men asks, a sadistic grin on his face.
Star stares at him. “You know where.” There’s a single beat, one half moment of silence before she lunges forward, aiming a kick at the man’s chest. It lands, and he goes stumbling backwards, but someone is grabbing Star from behind, pinning her arms behind her back.
She snarls, thrashing in the grip and shooting her leg out behind her.
Greco taught her well, she’s lucky for that, lucky she caught onto the training so quickly. She catches her attacker in the sensitive spot just above the knee and wrenches herself from his grasp. She doesn’t wait a moment before she attacks the next person, trying to land a flurry of punches and drive the man away so she can get to the door.
Get to the door. She knows this drill, she’s done it before. Get to the door and protect your owner. She always was such a good fighter, but these days, her body is breaking down.
Pain shoots through her back, and Star winces, her rhythm thrown off by the sudden flash of agony. She stumbles backwards, hitting the far wall, and one of the men takes the chance to jump on her and start punching.
Star’s vision blurs, her ears ring as the blows rain down on her face, blood dripping from her nose and mouth and cheek. She puts her hands up to protect her head, knowing her only option is to try to protect herself
The first man walks up to her, grabbing her by the hair and twisting her head back to look at him. “You fucking bitch.”
One of the other men slams his fist into her stomach, and Star doubles over, gasping for breath. “Who’s she going with first?”
So they’re going to take turns carting her back to WRU, back to the white walls. Star whimpers. She has to get out of here, she can’t go back but her body is being torn apart by pain.
“You take her first,” the man with the switchblade says, gesturing at the first man. “You were the one who got the dumb bitch in here.”
He smirks. “With pleasure.” He twists his hand further into Star’s hair and pushes her forwards.
She kicks and screams and scratches at his arms, but she knows no one can hear her. No one can save her. It’s just her with no chance to say goodbye.
The man bends her over the sink and lets go of her hair, only to grab her hands and roughly zip tie them behind her back. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he hisses into her ear.
What’s that supposed to mean? Star stares down at the sink, still trying to kick her legs to get the man off of her.
“Stop fucking moving,” the man with the switchblade says, grabbing a fistful of Star’s hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror.
Star sees her long brown hair pulled into a ponytail, she sees her green eyes full of pain and fear, she sees her pale skin underneath the bathroom lighting with her hands tied behind her back and she sees her face bloody and bruised and broken. She sees the man behind her run his hands down her back because she doesn’t want to feelit.
Star goes still. “How are you going to take me back without people seeing?” she asks.
“Take you back?” The man with the switchblade laughs and presses the knife to her neck. “Oh, you dumb bitch. You’re not going anywhere.”
“What do you–”
Star is cut off when the first man hooks his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and slowly starts pulling them down.
Aren’t you lucky to be here, 501? Not down the hall with the Romantics?
The pieces click together as soon as the man has pulled Star’s jeans and underwear all the way down. “I’m not a–” She can’t think, she can’t process what’s happening. “I’m not trained for this, Sir.”
“You don’t need to be trained,” the man hisses. “You just need to stay right there and don’t fucking scream.”
Star’s eyes dart to the side, panic clouding her brain, her breath coming in quick pants. This can’t be real, this can’t be happening, she doesn’t know what to do, how to react.
The man with the switchblade digs the knife into her throat, drawing a bead of blood and sharp pain with it. “Look at yourself. Go on. Watch yourself.”
Star looks at the mirror, her heart shattering as she sees her eyes. No longer human and brave and defiant and everything she liked about herself, everything she had gotten back from WRU. Just afraid.
The man runs a finger across her slit, and Star whimpers, sick to her stomach and disgusted with herself. “I’ll go back,” she whispers. “I don’t want this.”
The man hushes her. “You don’t need to talk. Just take it, bitch.”
The other two men walk to stand by the door, both staring at Star, staring between her legs at what’s now bared to them.
Star can’t close her eyes, can’t look away. She can’t do this. Greco might have drugged her and beat her and broke her down but he never did this to her. She’s never had sex before, not even in her false memories. She doesn’t even want to have sex. “Please,” she whispers at her reflection.
Her reflection doesn’t answer.
“Going to prep her?” one of the men asks.
“Nope.”
Star feels something press against her entrance. She’s dry and scared and she doesn’t want this, please, she doesn’t want this. She twists around, trying to free herself.
The man with the switchblade tightens his grip on her hair and presses the knife further into Star’s throat. “Keep moving and you’ll bleed out.”
She doesn’t want to have sex with this man. She doesn’t want to die like this, she wants to die in the hospital like she’s supposed to in a few years.
She stays still and hates herself for it.
“She’s nervous,” the man with the switchblade says, smirking. “I don’t think she’s done this before.”
“Good. She’ll be tight.”
Tight? What does that mean…oh. Oh. No, absolutely not, she can’t, she doesn’t want this, she can’t even think about it.
There’s no fighting this, no way out.
So Star screams, hoping someone, anyone will hear her and come in and save her from this…this thing that Star can’t name, even if it’s just having sex.
Greco had protected her from this for so long.
Maybe it’s not a good thing that she left him, because now…this can happen. Without Greco, she has to have sex.
Her scream is short-lived by the man with the switchblade putting his hand over her mouth and snapping, “Hand me her panties.”
There’s a brief rustle of movement before she sees her gray underwear being passed to the man with the switchblade. He pries her mouth open and shoves the fabric in there. “Finally. Now you can fuck her.”
Star chokes on her underwear, her eyes filling with tears. No. She can’t cry, it has to be fine, it’s just sex, right?
“Hold her head up,” the man behind her says. “I want her to watch herself get used.”
Get used? Maybe that’s what this is. She’s getting used. There’s not a difference between that and sex.
The man with the switchblade yanks Star’s head back up, and she’s forced to confront her dead green eyes again, the underwear distorting her face and making her look disgusting. Worthless. Like a piece of shit, useless bitch who deserves to die.
Maybe it’s a good thing she’s gagged so Cas doesn’t have to see the worthless mutt he rescued being…used like this.
She holds her gaze at her reflection and her reflection stares back as she hears a bottle cap opening and a clumsy hand spreading something gelatinous and cold across her vagina. “Don’t want her to tear, knowing the three of you are going after me?”
There’s *more?*
The man with the switchblade grabs at Star’s thin black t-shirt, and with one strong pull, he rips it off of her and slices her bra off with his knife.
She’s naked and she hates this so much and Handler Greco was supposed to keep her safe from this.
It’s what she gets for leaving him behind.
“Perfect tits.” The man behind her runs the back of his hand down her back, stopping at her bound wrists. “Let me show you how a real man fucks a whore, gentlemen.”
A whore. That’s the word she was looking for, the word to describe what she really is. She’s a whore.
“Gonna fill this useless bitch up with my cock.” The man thrusts in.
More of Star’s hope vanishes.
He pulls out. Thrusts in again.
Any light left in Star’s eyes is gone.
He pulls out again. Thrusts in again.
Star, the whore mutt, doesn’t want to be here anymore.
Pulls out, thrusts in, over and over and over.
All Star can do is look at her bruised, bloody, pathetic face in the mirror and hold back her tears and watch herself shatter. She should have stayed with Handler Greco. She should have done something different.
But instead she takes a stranger’s cock like a good whore with her underwear in her mouth and she’s breaking. The reflection in the mirror moans around the gag. The reflection’s cheeks are streaked with tears, the reflection’s body rocks with each thrust. The reflection reacts, moves like a good pet.
But Star is so far gone.
