#star 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.
Some comfort for Star before everything gets worse. Takes place before she and Cas know they’re in love.
Cassiel Belanger belongs to @painful-pooch
Across the Stars and Through the Meadow Masterlist (Cas and Star AU)
Tagging the Star crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump
CW: BBU, hospital setting, I promise this is actual fluff, Star is angsty, self hatred
***
Star glares when she hears the knock on the door, knowing there’s nothing she can do to make whoever it is leave her alone. “Come in,” she snaps, fiddling with her hospital bracelet.
A younger nurse walks in wearing powder blue scrubs and pushing a wheelchair. He walks with a limp, favoring his right side, but Star isn’t a Guard Dog anymore, so she can ignore that and focus on staring at him. “Who are you and what do you want?”
He grins at her with perfectly straight teeth. “Star, right?”
She nods.
“Yeah, the other nurses told me you were kind of an asshole.”
She smirks. “Still haven’t answered my question.” Already, she likes him more than the last few nurses she’s met.
“Fine.” He pushes the chair next to her bed and crosses his arms across his chest. “Answer one. My name is Noah, and since you’re going to be here a lot, Dr. Roth thought it would be good for you to have some consistency with your nurses. Thus, they stick the newbie with you. Fresh out of the University of Georgia, thank you very much. And answer number two is that you appear to be scheduled for a CT scan on those lungs of yours.”
Star looks him up and down, trying to figure out if he’s safe, how much he knows…
His face softens as he starts disconnecting her IV from the line and removing the heart monitors. “You can trust me. Dr. Roth picked me herself, I know about…WRU.” He whispers the last word, almost like he’s afraid of it.
Star snorts. “I was a mutt. Great. Glad you know. Means I don’t have to wrap my wrist in that itchy ass gauze.”
His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to speak, but just stammers out, “I…I…”
“Yeah, guess they don’t prepare you for a patient like me in med school.” Star folds her hands neatly in her lap once all the tubes are gone, save for her oxygen cannula. “I’m not getting in the fucking wheelchair.”
“Sorry, Star. Hospital policy is that you get in the chair and let me wheel you down. Now, I would consider bending the rules, especially considering your age and the fact that you’re not here for anything regarding your legs or back, but…” He trails off and taps the bright red bracelet with black blobs around Star’s wrist. “You’re a fall risk on oxygen and I do not want to get in trouble when you collapse and end up having another problem.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Is the reason they assigned me to you because you’re also an asshole?”
“They assigned me to you because I know what it feels like to have something medical happen young that changes a lot.” He blushes. “Well, not really. My life was going perfectly, until I tore my ACL when I was 19. Ended my football playing career forever. I left my fraternity and holed myself up in my dorm, but things worked out in the end. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing like what you’re going through.”
“Because you’re not dying, right?”
Noah freezes. “S-Star…”
“Relax, new kid. I’m teasing.” She gives him a long look. “I get your point. But I still think you got assigned to me because we’re both insufferable bastards.”
Noah slips into an easygoing smile. “Where’s the guy anyways? Dr. Roth said his name is Cas. You know, the only one who puts up for you and doesn’t get paid for it.”
Star smiles softly. “He’s at work. Keeping busy is…good for him, I think. He’s having a harder time with the whole impending doom thing than I am.”
“The hospital offers counseling for this sort of event–”
She cuts him off with a wry smile. “He does the whole therapy thing. I don’t. Never have–to my knowledge–and never will.”
“You should consider it. Just like you should consider getting in this wheelchair so the imaging techs don’t get mad at me for you being late.”
“Not. Getting. In. The goddamn. Wheelchair.”
“Get. In. The goddamn. Wheelchair.” Noah glares at her. “I told you that I tore my ACL, but don’t forget that I played D1 football. I’ll pick you up.”
She holds her position, jutting her chin out. “I bite.”
“Sure you do. What’s so bad about one scan? If it’s claustrophobia, I can get you anti-anxiety meds.”
Star sighs, clenching her fists and looking away. “You’re going to make fun of me.”
Noah sits down on the edge of the bed. “I won’t. Trust me. We nurses only make fun of the patients who do things like ‘falling’ on a wine bottle and getting it stuck up their butt. Whatever it is, you can tell me, because I bet I can find a way to make it easier.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“Don’t count me out just yet, Star. Go ahead. I won’t make fun of you.”
“I’m afraid.” Her voice comes out small and weak and so very much unlike her normal self. “It’s not really about the scan. If I get in the wheelchair, it’s showing weakness. It’s accepting what’s happening to be and it’s giving up because I’m supposed to be able to walk, dammit.” Tears prick in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall. “And if I get the results of that scan back…I can’t do it. I can’t give Cas any more bad news, I can’t look my best friend in the eyes and tell him something else wrong that’s just going to make him more nervous and more sad. And if I never know, I don’t have to tell him. I don’t have to be useless and a burden and we can pretend that it’s all okay.”
Noah’s quiet for a moment before softly asking, “What will you do if it’s bad?”
Star sniffles. “I’ll tell him and I’ll hate myself so much for it. I’ll hate myself when I see his face and how hard he tries to hide how much that news hurts him and I’ll hate myself when he promises me that he’ll find a way to make it work.”
“And what will you do if it’s good?”
She finally looks over at him, green eyes brimming with tears. “What?”
Noah shrugs. “If it’s good. Or at least, not the worst. What will you do then?”
“I don’t…I haven’t thought about that.”
“Then let’s think about that.” Noah leans forward. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, and you tell me how you’re going to react to that. Okay?”
Star unsteadily nods, trying not to cry. “Kay.”
“You’re going to get in the wheelchair. I’m going to take you to the MRI, and it’s going to go fine. I’ll bring you back here, sit with you for as long as I can because I’m just a glorified intern, and then we’ll get the results. Dr. Roth is going to tell you that the only thing wrong with your lungs is that you’re still recovering from pneumonia, and you’ll be discharged tomorrow morning once your oxygen levels are back up. What are you going to do after that?”
Star taps her fingers against her leg. “Okay. I’m going to have you or Dr. Roth call Cas and give me the phone so I can talk to him and tell him the good news. He’s probably going to freak out and talk really loudly because he’s excited. It’s not often that we get good news.”
“After that?”
“I’ll tell him to stay at work until his shift is over, and to pick up Chinese food from the place we like to bring to the hospital. He’s going to show up before his shift is over because Russo will see that he’s definitely not focusing on work, and he’s going to get here and celebrate the good news and fall asleep next to me. He’s, um…cuddly.”
“And how would that make you feel?”
“What are you, my therapist?” She shoots him a grin. “It would probably be good. I wouldn’t feel like such a disappointment and seeing Cas happy makes me happy.”
“Awh, I think you’re in love.”
Star gives Noah the middle finger, but her face feels warm. “No. In love? No.”
“Sure you aren’t.” Noah stands back up and pats the wheelchair. “But listen to that. You just thought of how good it’s going to be to get good news, right? And isn’t it worth a try?”
“The universe hasn’t exactly been kind to me. It’s normally bad news.”
“Take that chance, Star. If not for yourself, for Cas. And I promise you, the wheelchair doesn’t show weakness. Being afraid of bad news doesn’t show weakness. But hiding from this does.”
“Harsh.” Star chuckles and looks down at her hands. “But fair.”
“It’s awful. What’s happening to you and what’s already happened to you. And you think you’re supposed to be able to do everything you used to because you’re only twenty and you were trained to be strong, but I’m telling you, it’s okay to not walk. It’s okay. You’ve had to be strong for a long time. Your life is different now, and you getting in that wheelchair isn’t giving up. It’s finding a way around the problem. And besides. I won’t let you down. I’ll talk to Dr. Roth and have her recommend you to a physical therapist so you can start prioritizing your mobility. But for now…your chair awaits.”
Star glares at him. “You talk too damn much.”
Noah smiles. “It’ll grow on you. I promise.”
“Too late to request a new nurse?”
“Yep. Now wheelchair. We’re already late.”
Star grumbles and winces as she pulls herself up from the hospital bed and immediately slides into the chair. She’s been experiencing a lot of pain in her back, her condition was flared up by her recent bout of pneumonia.
Noah switches out her oxygen tank to a non-magnetic one and clips it to the back of the wheelchair. “Alright. Before we leave, anything magnetic on you that you want to leave up here?”
Star shakes her head. “Nope. Took everything off when I had to put on this stupid fucking hospital gown.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.” Noah starts slowly pushing the wheelchair down the hallway. “Don’t have a heart attack on the way, old lady.”
Star bites back a laugh, softly smiling. “You’re literally older than me.”
“Only by a few years. And I’m not the one taking rides in the wee woo wagon every couple weeks. I read your file.”
“Because that’s not creepy as fuck.”
“I wanted to know if you were as bad as everyone said. But I actually think you’re kind of sweet.”
“Not sweet.”
“Oh, sorry. You’re terrifying. For someone so short.”
That finally pulls a laugh out of Star, broken up by a coughing fit that has her doubled over and groaning.
“Breathe,” Noah says. “I’ll try to stop being so funny. Just breathe.”
Star gets herself under control, turning her head and glaring at him. “You’re an asshole.”
“Save it. You know you love me. Or at least, I’m growing on you.” Noah pushes her to the door of the MRI room, where nurses are waiting to prep her. “This is where I leave you. Don’t worry. I’ll have Cas’s number ready to go so you can give him the good news.”
“Don’t hope too much.”
“Too late.” Noah puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking away. “I miss you already.”
“I never want to see you again.”
“I’ll be waiting eagerly for your cheerful self back in your room once you’re done in the metal tube of doom.” He smiles impossibly wider. “You’ll be good.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“It’s not a promise. I’m just saying, you’ll figure it out. Whatever it is.”
Star looks up at him. “Hope you were right. About good news.”
“If I am, will you be nicer to me?”
Her eyes narrow. “We’ll see.”
He gives her two thumbs up before she’s wheeled into the room and the door is shut behind her.
***
She lets herself have a small smile, a moment of happiness when Dr. Roth gives her good news. Just like Noah said.
For@whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 21 - Whumper Run-In
Cassiel Belanger belongs to @painful-pooch
Across the Stars and Through the Meadow Masterlist (Cas and Star AU)
Tagging the Star crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump
CW: lady whump, BBU, pet whump, burning, dehumanisation
***
Star is on autopilot. There aren’t enough customers for her to stay focused, and her head is throbbing with a dull ache.
Cas has already started cleaning the kitchen for the night. Star listens to him singing while he works, smiling at the sound. That’s it. If she focuses on his voice, maybe the pain will disappear.
She’s so enthralled by his beautiful singing that she doesn’t notice the new customer at the end of the bar until the woman clears her throat.
Star throws her towel over her shoulder and walks over. “What can I get you?”
“728501, right?”
Star freezes. 728501. It’s been…three months, roughly, since she and Cas escaped. Three months isn’t long enough for her body not to react to the numbers. Slowly, she raises her head to meet the woman’s eyes. “Handler Reyes.”
Handler Reyes smirks. “501. Greco’s been so damn angry since you’ve been gone.”
“G-good,” Star stammers out, trying to keep her bearings despite the world crumbling around her. Handler Reyes wasn’t her primary, but the woman had helped Handler Greco with some of her training. Star remembers the pain left in the wake of the woman’s baton, the bruises and welts and shocks and blood, red against the white floors. “Why are you here?”
“Believe it or not, pet, I’m here to get a drink. Seeing you is just an added bonus.” Handler Reyes drums her fingers on the tabletop. “I’ll have an old fashioned.”
Star puts the sugars and bitters into a rocks glass, keeping her eyes on Handler Reyes. She can’t let her know that Cas, another escaped pet, is just in the kitchen, oblivious to what’s happening at the bar. She can suffer, but she won’t let Cas be taken back there. He deserves to be free, he’s not meant to live in captivity.
She’s a mutt. Her freedom doesn’t matter.
“Greco has been…well, right after they found out you escaped, he put a Guard Dog in a coma. Kid wasn’t going to make it out of training anyways, but still. I’ve never seen him that mad.” Handler Reyes looks at Star’s shaking hands. “Trouble?”
“Yeah, I’m having trouble,” Star snaps, adding water to the glass and stirring to dissolve the sugar. “Are we really going to play this game?”
“What game, 501? I just want my drink.” Handler Reyes leans back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. “One of my friends recommended this place to me. Said the bartender wasn’t half bad and the cook was pretty good. Where is he, anyways?”
“Manager sent him home early.” Star can’t breathe, frozen in place with the glass in her hand. “It’s just me tonight.” She has to protect Cas. “And stop playing games with me.”
Handler Reyes shrugs. “I’m not playing games, you dumb mutt. I just got off of work and I want a drink. That’s it. I’d fix that attitude of yours, 501, or I’ll have to punish you.”
Star glares at her. “I’m going to get punished anyways once you bring me back, so fucking do it, you coward.”
There’s a moment of silence before Handler Reyes bursts into laughter. “You’re still a spitfire. Even when you’re not in a white shirt and black shorts with a collar around your neck.”
Star snarls, her heart racing, but she adds large ice cubes to the glass with shaking hands and selects a high proof bourbon. Three months. That’s all she got. Three months of happiness.
It’s not long enough to satisfy her, but it’s long enough that she knows going back is going to hurt so much worse, knowing what she could have instead.
For the first time since she’s seen Handler Reyes, Star looks over at the kitchen, where Cas is cleaning away, still singing.
He doesn’t know. He’s going to walk out once he’s done and find nothing but an empty bar, nothing but an empty space where a mutt used to be. She has to hope, though, that he can move on. That he’ll find something and some reason.
She has to leave some kind of sign, something to let him know that she didn’t just leave him, that she was taken.
The image of Cas thinking she left because of him hurts her more than the idea of going back to WRU.
Is that…tears are building in her eyes. Star brushes them away and pours the bourbon. “So take me back. That’s how this ends, right? Handler Greco gets his spitfire mutt back in a collar and on her knees?”
“No.”
Star’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Keep stirring my drink, 501. My, my. It’s taking you an awful long time to make a simple cocktail.”
“Because you’re a goddamn Handler,” Star retorts, stirring the drink obediently. “I can’t fucking focus because the last time I saw you, you were bashing my face in with an electric baton.”
“Good times, 501. Good times.”
Star adds the orange to the drink and slides it across the bar. “So how do you want this to go? I’d prefer quietly, and I’ll come without a fight.” She has to protect Cas at all costs.
“Please. If I was going to take you back to WRU, I would have already.” Handler Reyes takes a sip of the drink. “Mm. Good job, 501. You make a mean cocktail. Throw a mean punch too. A natural Guard Dog.”
“So then just get this over with!” Star roars, slamming her fist against the counter. “Fucking take me back to Handler Greco already!”
Handler Reyes wrinkles her nose. “See, that’s the problem. The only reason I’m not dragging you back to WRU by that pretty brown hair of yours is because I’ve got a bone to pick with Devin Greco and you back in his arms would bring him far too much pleasure for my liking.”
Star grips the edge of the bar, knuckles turning white. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. That fuck Devin Greco walks around thinking he’s the founder of life as we know it. Getting you back would make him even more smug, somehow, and I couldn’t handle that. Plus, he’d probably just buy you himself so you could never leave.”
Star’s heart skips a beat. “B-buy me?” Not Handler Greco. Not the man who did nothing but drug and beat her and say it was for her own good.
“Oh yeah. He’s obsessed with you.” Handler Reyes takes another sip of her drink. “God, this is good. If you weren’t so feral, I would have put you as a Domestic.”
Star is speechless, her eyes wide and her breath coming quickly.
Handler Reyes chuckles. “You’re terrified, aren’t you? I miss hearing your screams coming from Greco’s training room. And as much as I hate that man, he got the most delicious sounds from you. Do you still know your positions, trainee?”
Star nods, her whole body trembling under Handler Reyes’s cold stare.
“Position six.”
Star’s arms move on their own, extending all the way out with her wrists together, right in front of Handler Reyes.
“Good mutt.” Handler Reyes digs around in her purse. “Do you think I can get a scream out of you?”
Star’s mind immediately shoots to Cas. If he hears her scream, he’ll come running out, and Star doubts that Handler Reyes won’t send him back to Handler Rowan. “No, Handler.”
“We’ll see.” Handler Reyes pulls out a lighter. “This way, I can scar you all I want and not get busted for damaging the merchandise.”
She has to be strong, she has to take this for Cas. “Will you tell Handler Greco you found me?” she asks, fear in her voice.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But first—” Handler Reyes opens the lighter, and a bright flame ignites. “You’re going to burn for me, pretty thing.”
Star bites down on her lip as Handler Reyes brings the lighter closer and closer to the underside of Star’s forearm, watches with building anticipation and a sick feeling in her stomach as she can feel the heat on her skin.
The flame makes contact with her skin, and Star barely manages to contain her whimper. The pain is immediate, searing, and Star wants nothing more than to pull away from the fire. But she holds her position, even as she can smell her own skin burning, mixed with the smell of the bar.
Handler Reyes takes a sip of her drink, tracing the lighter around a small portion of the back of Star’s forearm. “One hell of a bartender, 501.”
Star grits her teeth, tears building in her eyes from the bitter pain. “That’s not my fucking name.”
“It’s what your barcode says. It’s the only thing that matters.”
“Why don’t you do me a favor and burn the barcode off? I’m not a pet. I don’t need it anymore,” Star hisses.
“You’ll need it one day. You’re still just a mutt.” Handler Reyes smirks. “I think you like it, too. The barcode. Belonging somewhere. So no. I won’t burn the barcode off. But I’ll burn the rest of this pretty skin until I get the sound I want.”
“Fuck you.” The pain builds, and Star feels her skin slowly being destroyed. She’s going to be sick. But she can take it, she has to take it.
Handler Reyes doesn’t say another word, Star keeps her screams smothered, and in this silence, she can hear Cas singing away in the kitchen, unaware of how well Star burns. Good. He needs to stay that way at all costs.
The seconds stretch into minutes and the minutes stretch into hours and what must be an eternity of pain passes before Handler Reyes puts the lighter away and goes back to her drink.
Star doesn’t move.
“Impressive. Even the best Guard Dogs I’ve trained would have pulled away, or at least shed a tear.”
Star stares at the far wall, her lip trembling. She’s just a mutt. She’s supposed to take it.
Handler Reyes finishes her drink and slides the empty glass across the counter along with a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
She didn’t say to release position, so Star stays still as a statue.
Handler Reyes pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of Star’s arms, making sure to get her barcode and numbers in the shot. “Just in case Greco gets on my nerves. Relax, 501.”
Star gingerly brings her arms back to her sides, the pain making her eyes misty.
“Go clean yourself up. Don’t worry. I won’t come back again. You’ve served your purpose.” Handler Reyes stands up, looking Star over. “Not a scream. Damn. You really are a cold and calloused mutt.”
“Yes, Handler,” Star whispers.
“Good mutt.” With that, Handler Reyes walks out the door, leaving the smell of burning skin behind.
Star runs over to the sink, letting cool water rush over the burns. It helps, a little, enough that she’s able to bite back her cry of pain when she puts a jacket on. Cas can’t know what happened here.
There’s things to do. Glasses to wash, liquor to organize and label, drink mix to throw away.
Star stands in place, staring out on the bar.
Something wet runs down her cheek.
She’s crying.
Just like that, Star is crying. From the pain and the humiliation and the knowledge that she’s just a mutt and she’ll never be anything more. Just a mutt. Just a toy.
She twists a towel around her hands until she cuts off her own circulation and silently, she cries, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.
She breaks. She rebuilds. She repeats.
And she pushes it all down the minute she hears Cas call out for her, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. “Coming, Cas,” she says, keeping her voice neutral.
He can’t know how close he was to going back, what Star just let happen to her. He can never know. It’s just the way it is. She has to keep him safe.
She doesn’t know why, but she’s drawn to him like nothing she’s ever felt, so she has to keep him safe.
It’s what good mutts do.
It’s what good people do, too, and Star is a mix of both these days.
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.
