Sorry this has been so long! This only fills 🧃laced drink, I'll give you 💊 later. For Cass.
CWs: drugging
Cass steps down the ladder and wipes his forehead. It's hot today, but he thinks he's pleased with his work.
The owner of the house – Dan – is still around, working from home, and Cass calls to him.
"Dan! I am finished!"
A door opens and a couple of seconds later, Dan enters the freshly-plastered room. He grins.
"This looks very good."
"So you are happy with it?"
"Yeah, for sure. Exactly what I wanted."
"Great. If you could send me the rest of the money as soon as possible, that would be great."
Dan waves his hand. "Of course, of course. Would you like a cup of tea before you go?"
Cass considers it. He's not sure he wants to spend any more time here than he needs to, but it would be polite. And it's still early.
"Yes, please."
Dan smiles. "This way."
Cass follows Dan into the kitchen and stands awkwardly as he boils the kettle and dunks the teabag. He checks his phone quickly, smiling at the photo of Calixte and their children. Not long until he can see them again.
"Here you go."
"Thank you."
Cass takes a big gulp of scalding tea, strong enough to stand a spoon up in it. It's just how he likes it, but the faster he finishes the quicker he can see his kids. He's regretting agreeing to this now.
There's something a bit... strange about the taste of this tea, not like the other cups he's had here. It's a bit... he downs it as quickly as can be polite.
He stumbles, vision blurring. What was in that tea?
Shit. What was in that tea?
His ankle gives and he hears a smash. Black dots dance on the edge of his vision, and he feels an arm on his as he collapses.
"That's it. Careful now, don't want you hurt before we start."
ok but literally Do Ask Me About My Elaborate Character Playlists
like. send me the name of an oc (and, if you feel so inclined, like a theme or something) and i'll pick a song from their playlist (that relates to the theme if one is given) and go off about it
and if ppl want to rb and turn this into an ask game for their ocs then go for it!
Some Cass for you. Set during his early WRU training, between remembering his name and being sent to the US.
CWs: BBU, pet whump, WRU fuckery, restraints, dehumanisation, muzzled, implied beating, mentioned organ harvesting, talk of death, implied non con, drugging, overstimulation, low self esteem, verbal degradation
"Did you think you were worth something?"
Cass grits his teeth, straining against the restraints holding him prone to the table. Sweat runs off his body in rivers, pooling beneath him, his nerves lighting up like they're on fire every time the handler brushes against him. As he makes sure to do frequently.
Cass isn't sure what he's been injected with, but he's never felt like this before. He's pretty sure of that.
"Because you're not."
The handler trails the end of his baton down Cass' spine, and it erupts into a line of fire. Cass screams, tugging mindlessly, his agonised cries muffled by the leather dog muzzle they've shoved onto his face.
It's a regular feature. He hates it. He is not a dog.
He's worse.
"You're no better than an animal. You think your word means anything here? You don't get to say no. You don't get a say in your training. If I order you to jump, you don't even stop to ask how high. And if it's determined that the best way to train you as a Guard Dog is for you to attack live bait, then you do so. Unquestioningly. You don't say 'no', you never say 'no'. It's not a word that should be in your vocabulary."
Cass pants into the muzzle as the raging fire subsides slightly. It doesn't last long before the handler tugs his head up by the collar, choking him and making him want to scream at the contact.
"You didn't save her. 147. She was well past her last chance. She's been sent to the bottom floor, no anaesthetic. All you did was ensure her end will be more drawn out and probably excruciatingly painful. Organ extractions tend to be. Your refusal didn't save her."
The handler twists his fingers in the collar, pressing against Cass' neck, increasing the pain as he fiddles with something. The electricity doesn't even need to be on to set his nerves on fire at the moment.
"You didn't manage to rescue the other one either. 643, right? She's cute. Feels so good and she's so eager to please. I don't know why you keep trying. You're only a stupid pet, you don't have the brainpower for that. You do not get a say in anything. You do not, ever, say no."
The handler drops Cass' collar, his head hitting the metal, impact barely noticeable over everything that's already there. He can't breathe so well anymore.
"You're worthless. A useless failure. You can't save anyone, you're just a stupid pet. You won't ever be worth anything." His voice sounds from further away now, footsteps going away, coming back, circling. Cass whines. "I'm working on permission for you to see 147, all prepped and ready for donation. So you can fully understand the consequences of your actions, because clearly you're too stupid to do so yet. But for now, until the Director approves of a different punishment, this will have to do. The only way to make you mutts learn is through corporal punishment anyway."
CWs: BBU, pet whump, collared, non-con touch (non-sexual), discussion of future and past rape, amnesia, shock collar, electric shocks, humiliation, non-con nudity, crude language/sexual imagery and drawing on someone in Sharpie, sexual implications in body language, sexual harrassment, strapped down, gagged, muzzled, non-con photos, handcuffed, manhandling (brief, plus mentions of), non-con tattooing, dehumanisation, blindfold, sensory deprivation
"20 quid says he'll be a Guard Dog."
The other handler snorts. "Only 20? Not very certain, are you?"
"Well, what do you think he'll be?"
346250 sets his jaw best he can against the sharp pain as the needles prick against his skin, each one sending a pinpoint of ink into his arm. He doesn't know what they're drawing, his head's immovable like this, but he can guess. They tattoo it onto every pet, after all. He clenches his fist against the pain and receives a sharp slap on the knuckles for his troubles.
He can't see the handlers from this position, but he can swear he hears the shrug. "Could be a Guard Dog. The ladies would love those muscles though. And that scar... the heroic look's big this season. So, could be a Romantic."
346250 flinches as much as he can between the tight leather restraints as someone squeezes his arm, and there's two laughs. "Oh, yeah, I see what you mean about the muscles. Let me know if he gets assigned to your department. I want a turn."
"You always want a turn," says the handler, sounding exasperated.
"Boys, boys," says a woman, sounding amused. 'No touching the trainee until I've finished his barcode. You'll have plenty of time later."
"Sorry, boss."
"What do you mean, 'plenty of time later'? Do you know something we don't?"
"Just that Poppy says he's exceptionally defiant. He was the one who led 643 in the escape attempt, and he's resistant. So there'll be plenty of manhandling to be done."
346250 flinches again, his whole body this time. He was led in here by a choking hand on his collar and strapped in, ankles and legs and wrists and forearms, and torso and forehead too. Everywhere, in fact. The collar's too tight and he can't breathe properly, it's all he's wearing except for a black silicon gag that fits between his lips, pulling at his teeth, pinching the skin. And a blindfold, rendering everything completely black.
Clearly they want him to hear, though. At least for now.
A handler mentioned a fitted one. He doesn't want a fitted one. He wants to breathe.
He feels almost relaxed, though, like this. Like he's floating. As soon as the handlers stop talking he forgets what he's worrying about. He's sure there's something, it nags and worms at the back of his mind, but he doesn't remember what.
They said he's safe. He knows they're lying, they snigger behind their hands when they think he's not looking. He chose this. He didn't, he can see people in his mind that make him sad He can trust the handlers. He has to, he has to, he has to, or the electricity will come on again.
"Make the most of his compliance while it lasts, boys. I know you prefer the defiant ones, but best get him settled before he fights back."
"Right you are. I'm just about done. Anything you want to do to him?"
"Yeah, actually. Pass me that Sharpie."
346250 hears a pen uncapping and a strong smell of alcohol hits his nostrils. His chest tickles as someone draws on it.
"Mate, that might be a classic, but it won't win this week's competition. You know what Finn's prizes are like, you don't want to miss out."
"Yeah but, 643's untrained. No fun."
"I thought you boys liked the defiant ones. She's good enough without training, anyway." There's a stunned silence, and 346250's arm throbs. "What? You don't think no-one fucked her during her initial training? She was almost made into a Romantic then, after all. If it wasn't for 065 and the workers then messing it all up."
"See, this is why I'm adding you to the group chat. Like minds and all that." 346250 feels his face jostled as something metal is strapped over his mouth, and something is placed over his head that muffles all sounds. Noise-cancelling headphones, perhaps?
Someone undoes 346250's straps, leaving everything else in place. Then he's pulled to his feet and held tightly by his collar as the blindfold is removed.
There's a mirror in front of him, and he barely recognises the person in it. He doesn't remember himself, and yet it's possible not to recognise himself. He looks scared, smeared in blood, embarrassingly naked but one of the handlers cuffs his hands behind him, he can't cover himself. He sees his face go bright red. One of the handlers guffaws in the mirror, and the other makes a crude motion with his hands. The tattooist rolls her eyes.
346250 has scars he didn't know he had (and how does he know what scars he had?), injuries that he knows with a strange certainty weren't there before. The collar's black plastic, a small box attached to the front, metal prongs cold against his skin. It looks deceptively unthreatening. In his mouth is a gag, and over it, covering the lower half of his face, is a wire and leather muzzle. Like an animal. He hasn't been defiant for as long as he can remember, since they took him off that IV line. It must be a warning against misbehaviour. A threat. For fun.
He swallows a sob as he looks at his chest, a part of himself he'd been avoiding. He knew it was crude. Of course it was, they drew it in Sharpie and laughed. But somehow that's different to actually seeing it.
He has a penis drawn in black on his chest, semen spurting out of it. The words he can't make out, the handwriting's backwards and terrible and he has a splitting headache, but he assumes they're equally as crude.
It'll wash off eventually. It will. But that's the only comfort.
And on his arm... on his left arm is a tattoo. The tattoo. Black and bold against the tan of his skin, crisp, clean lines portray a barcode with a set of numbers below. 346250, he presumes. Marking him out forever as a pet.
It's okay though, he's safe here. He's not. It was his choice. It wasn't. It won't hurt too much. He doesn't know what they'll do to him.
He can survive. Whatever happens, he can.
Can he?
A handler steps in front of him, mobile phone in hand. He winks at 346250, pointing at a toy monkey on his head for the new trainee to look at. A flash goes off.
They're taking photos. Oh, god.
In the mirror, 346250 sees the other handler pull out the small black remote and turn the dial. Then he presses the button.
The trainee falls to his knees, attempting to claw at his neck as his vision goes white, gag-muffled screams reverberating in his ears, he can't hear them on the outside so they're all inside instead, shocks shaking his jaw and his limbs, sending them jerking and thrashing. All he can feel is pain, all he can think about is the pain of it, the sensation, he can barely breathe.
When he comes to, limbs twitching and jerking against the cold tile floor, he realises they're still taking photos.
Cass, Calixte, and their children reunite in Canada five years after Cass' initial kidnapping (with Aaliyah, Lea, Anita, and Sandy's help).
CWs: BBU, pet whump, box boy, box babe, past pet whump, mentions of collars and freedom/captivity, mentions of torture, recovery whump, reunion, past grief (kind of)
2.5k
Cass looks impatiently out the window as they pull into the airport's parking lot. As soon as Sandy's parked he opens the door, striding round to the boot and waiting there.
He doesn't remember the airport's name and today is apparently not a reading day so he can't read the signs, but that doesn't matter, because Calixte's going to be here soon, and Petre and Mathéo and Isabella, and Cass Jr who he hasn't even met yet, and he doesn't think he can wait much longer.
Sandy chuckles lightly as xie come over and unlock the boot. "Their plane isn't even here yet, you and Aaliyah tracked it the whole way. Go on inside and see if you can find international arrivals. I'll pay for parking and meet you there."
Cass nods, taking the wheelchair from Sandy as she sorts something out inside the car. At one time he would've worried that it was something awful she was fetching, and sometime before that it would've been some creative torture from Tyrone or a handler, but now he just feels a faint sense of curiosity. And excitement, of course, about seeing his family again.
He doesn't feel the need to beg for Aaliyah's safety now, like he did for so long.
Aaliyah taps the seat of the chair, and Cass sits down reluctantly. This chair isn't very comfortable, but it was the best fit of the donated ones, and his leg's locked up on the car ride. If he tries to walk now he won't be able to meet Calixte without being in horrendous pain.
They enter the airport together. God, it's so big. The last time he was at an airport... no. No, he's not going to think about that. He didn't see anything anyway, so he doesn't need to think about it, it's not relevant. But it still hurts, phantom shocks, phantom rope burns and restraints, metal biting into his face. Jostled and thrown as his box was boarded. He doesn't know what it looked like, but it felt like a coffin.
Does WRU ship internationally, anyway? He's never found out. God, what's he going to do if he sees someone in a box?
"Breathe, Cass," says Aaliyah, the voice sporting an electronic tinge. "Breathe."
Cass takes a deep breath, then another, then looks up at her.
"You're the best," he murmurs, taking her hand gently. She smiles, touching his cheek.
People are staring now, and Cass fingers the thick band of scarring around his neck nervously. Do they know? Can they see, what he and Aaliyah are? It's Canada, it's illegal, but WRU have agents everywhere and they've never cared about legality. His life is proof of that.
They're too close to the border, far too close. Hell, they could be on the moon and it would still be too close. He squeezes Aaliyah's hand tightly.
"People are staring."
Aaliyah's rabbit-quick eyes dart around, and she looks frightened before her mouth sets in a determined line, tapping out a message on her AAC tablet.
"Let's find Arrivals. Can you read?"
"Not today. But I think there is a symbol of a plane landing."
Aaliyah nods. Cass pushes himself along as they search, eventually finding the board. He'd like to go faster but then he'd bump into someone and maybe lose Aaliyah.
It's not far to Arrivals, and now they just have to wait. Cass just has to wait. He stares impatiently at the doors Calixte and his children will come through, drumming his fingers on the arms of his wheelchair, willing time to go faster.
Sandy arrives shortly after, carrying three drinks. "You found the right arrivals space, that's good. Here, Aaliyah, yours is as sweet as they could make it. Got you an iced coffee Cass. Decaf. Nothing hot, I've seen reunions before and you'll drop it as soon as you see your family."
"Thank you. Has the plane landed yet?"
"Yep, just now. But they've still got to go through immigration, you'll have to be patient."
Cass growls slightly. He's had years of being patient, hasn't he been patient enough?
"Not long," says Aaliyah, and Cass smiles weakly, nods. She still gets too scared to speak much with her natural voice, but he prefers this one. This one isn't associated with screams and sobs and begging at Tyrone's behest. It's just her.
He doesn't look round though. He continues to stare at the door, willing his family to walk through.
_
"Do– do any of you need– need the toilet before we– before we go?"
Lea's been left to wrangle the four younger Văduvas while Miss Calixte and Mistress Anita repack the documents. Mathéo and Petre are the easiest, because although they're just as impatient as the rest after four hours in immigration and customs they're older, more understanding of the situation. It probably comes from helping to raise their younger siblings, but at least they're a little more sensible.
Isabella and Cassander Jr, however... she really hopes her hair wrap is enough to catch the ice lolly drip from Cass.
There's a murmur of denials from everyone. Lea looks at Izzy, legs swinging where they dangle from the luggage, licking an ice lolly. She's ten but she looks younger right now, hair mussed from the long flight.
"Izzy. Are you– are you absolutely sure you won't– you won't want to go as soon as we– we get through those doors? We have– we have time now."
She pauses, head cocked as she looks up at Lea. Then she nods and jumps down.
Mathéo, with the long-suffering look of someone who knew exactly what she was about to do, catches her and lowers her before she can smack her head on the cream and grey vinyl.
"Careful, Iz, don't want to go to hospital before you've even seen dad again."
She nods and waits for Lea before heading over to the nearest toilets.
"I'll– I'll wait out here– out here for you."
"Okay." She hands Lea her ice lolly. "Don't let it melt."
Well. What's Lea supposed to do with a melting ice lolly? Years ago she'd have eaten it quickly, unsure when her next meal would be. Or she'd have panicked because she couldn't follow that order.
She's glad those days have passed. Mostly. They're not here today, anyway.
"Lea! I wanna go too!"
Lea groans quietly. Of course Cass does. He always wants to do what his sister does. Really, she should've anticipated this.
How's she supposed to deal with it?
Mathéo, seemingly having seen her dilemma, wanders over. "Need any help?"
She nods. "I– I– Cass needs the– the toilet too."
"Of course. I'll take him. Bend down."
She does so, and he lifts Cass Jr off her shoulders, handing her his ice lolly with a wink. "Eat them if you like. Once we get through those doors they'll only care for as long as it takes them to spot dad."
Lea licks at Cass' ice lolly gratefully. It's not like he's eaten much at all, most of it's melting slowly on her hair wrap. She knows she doesn't need to be grateful anymore, but she is. For all of this.
It feels weird, not having to wear anything marking her as a pet. She hasn't worn a collar in years, but this is really the first time out in public that she hasn't had to wear a harness and leash. Mistress Anita helped her take it off as soon as they boarded the flight at Heathrow and she hasn't seen it once since.
It makes her nervous. She barely remembers not having to wear something, and it feels like someone's going to tell her off, discipline her, take her away. Really, the officials could do anything to her, legally, since Mistress Anita isn't following the rules.
But then she looks around. Remembers where she is. The younger Văduvas who insist on her not giving them titles, and Miss Calixte who lets her because she can't help herself. Who treat her like a person, however weird and wrong that is. Even though, in this country, she might be.
She's still owned by Mistress Anita, but she doesn't mind that, she likes her, and she's never felt more free.
They've only just arrived, but she can can already feel that it will be a challenge going back home.
There's another thing nagging at her. She remembers the transport now, the whole, horrifying ordeal to be refurbished. It makes her go cold every time she thinks of it, but more importantly, there was a man named Cass there, who insisted he'd been kidnapped. She'd struggled to believe him then.
She definitely does now.
Is he the same Cass as the man here? Or would that be too much of a coincidence?
The two younger children exit the toilets, and Izzy climbs back on the luggage, Mathéo lifting Cass Jr onto her shoulders. Mistress Anita and Miss Calixte look ready too.
Well. It seems she's about to find out.
_
It's been four hours, by Sandy's reckoning, when the door opens. Most of the passengers have left, so many planes have been and gone, and his wife and children still aren't here yet.
"What if they are not coming?" he mutters, accent thick with worry. "What if they were arrested or decided not to bother, that I was not worth it?"
"It takes a long time to get through customs, Cass, I'm sure they're just..."
Cass stops hearing anything Sandy says, a faint buzzing filling his ears. A woman comes through, one he vaguely recognises (not Calixte, not dangerous even though his gut fills with dread, but... something), pushing a trolley piled high with luggage. A boy's bouncing on her shoulders, and a young girl in a panda hat is perched on the luggage. She's several years older than when he last saw her in person but he knows her.
"Isabella," he breathes.
She can't have heard him, she's too far away, but her eyes light up as they land on him.
"Tata!" she cries, leaping off the trolley. A young man charges through the door, grabbing his sister before she can fall and running towards them. He can't get up to meet them, his leg still locked, but that doesn't seem to matter as Izzy leaps onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. Mattie's next, trying to be grown up about it Cass can tell, but failing. He eventually gives up, hugging Cass close, tears in his eyes.
"You've grown," murmurs Cass into his ear. Mattie chokes out a wet laugh.
"I missed you, tata."
"I missed you too. Izzy, Mattie, both of you, so much."
"I was worried you might forget me."
"Only for about a day, near the start. I forgot everyone. Then I remembered. I've thought about you every night since."
Mathéo buries his head in Cass' chest, sobbing. Izzy's warm, sweet breath comes in his ear, and she whispers, "I love you tata."
"Love you too scuttlebug."
Cass can feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He looks up through watery eyes as a shadow falls over Mathéo.
His other son has clearly gone through most of puberty since Cass last saw him, and he's taller than he looked on-screen.
"Petriça," he murmurs. Petre smiles slightly. He's always felt so strongly, always noticed things, and Cass suspects he's taking note of what's changed.
"Hi dad."
"You have got tall. Come here, there is plenty of space by Izzy."
"Are you sure?"
"I always have space for you, Petriça."
Petre sniffles. "I didn't do as well as you hoped, dad, my grades aren't very good and I stopped basketball and–"
"I have not seen you for five years, your grades are not what I care about. You are here and I can talk to you and that is what matters."
"I missed you. You weren't there and I was so angry and– and– you were *gone*."
"I am here now. And I am not leaving again."
Cass leans down, gathering his children all together, feeling as much of them as possible as he hugs them. His knee's starting to hurt but he doesn't care. He has his children back.
"I wanna hug too!" comes a muffled cry. None of his children move.
"He– he likes to copy– copy his sister. Would you– you like to meet him first?"
There's a pause, and then Aaliyah says, "Hello little Cass."
Cass feels a small pang of jealousy at this stranger knowing his child better than him. But Aaliyah can get to know him first, she's joining the family after all, and Cass has his other children to take care of. After five years of hell, they're here.
_
Calixte watches as Aaliyah lifts Cass Jr from Lea's shoulders, smiling. She's shorter than Calixte thought from the video call, and somehow even more attractive. She can see why Cass fell in love.
That's a conversation for another time though. Her children are reuniting with their dad, and she's not sure she can wait much longer. Once you have children you have to put them first (not that she had much choice in the matter this time) but no-one ever told her it would be so hard.
Finally she can't wait any longer. She walks forward, getting faster with every stride until she's practically running, and Petre looks round, nudging Mathéo who stands, backing out the way, clutching Izzy's hand. They're all covered in tears and mess, but Calixte ignores that, almost crashing into her husband. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her hard. They kiss for a second, an hour, nowhere near long enough, before he has to pull away to breathe. She cups his face in her hands.
"Mon chéri. Let me look at you. Oh, I've missed your handsome face."
Cass closes his eyes, leaning into her hands. "You even smell the same," he rumbles. His voice is rougher than she remembers, hoarser too. Video calls are only so good. She doesn't want to imagine what he's been through to get here.
"So do you. Oh, Cass."
"I am sorry I left you. I do not look like you remember."
In response Calixte kisses him, all over his face, and then on the mouth. And they just keep kissing.
"I am sorry," murmurs Cass between kisses, "I am so sorry."
Calixte pulls away slightly, folding her hands over Cass'. In no way is she letting him apologise for anything. Certainly not after the torture he's been through. He's here and they're together again and that's what's important, not his self-blame getting even worse.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." She pauses. "Well, except for that time you assumed we'd be better off thinking you were dead, Cassander Anton Văduva. Never do anything like that to us again."
CWs: BBU, pet whump, forced to strip, forced nudity, collar, muzzled, implied future and past non-con
"What are you waiting for? Strip."
Aaliyah starts to pull off her jumper, eyes darting to Cass when he whines. He looks terrible, the part of his face that isn't smothered in a thick leather muzzle covered in blood and newly-forming bruises. And his eyes... his eyes are the worst part. He shouldn't be feeling sorry for her, his position is worse, and yet he does, she can tell.
Her throat fills with guilt as she looks at him. He doesn't deserve this. He didn't choose this.
Neither did you, says a small voice in her head, remember?
She banishes it quickly. No time for that voice now.
Master marches forward and yanks her head up by her hair, forcing her to look at him. Her cheek stings as he slaps it.
"Eyes on me, Aaliyah, or I'll think you've forgotten your training." Aaliyah bows apologetically, palms and face pressed to the floor. She remembers Master's threat if he did suspect that of her.
He thinks it's Cass' fault. Or that's what he says, anyway. Cass is getting the worst of this, she's just doing what she was made for, and he should've abandoned her.
Why couldn't he just have abandoned her?
"Yeah, right. Get up, keep stripping," Master says, sounding slightly mollified. "I want to see you. And you." He crouches down in front of Cass and grabs his leash, pulling tight until he starts to choke. "Ugly mutts don't cry, or make a sound, or do anything unless they're ordered to. And you're even uglier than you were last time I saw you. The easiest way to make you obey is to restrict your air supply, that always works on you, but I need you to watch this and actually be aware of it. So. How about this. Every time you disobey, I'll punish Aaliyah instead. Nod if you understand." Cass nods, eyes filled with pain. "Good." Master releases him, throwing him down to the ground where he coughs and splutters.
Aaliyah drops back to her knees as soon as she's removed the last of her underwear, and Master circles her, a satisfied smile on his face.
"A bit fat, maybe, but you still look good. You'll look even better once you're collared and I've claimed you again. I bet you still remember how to serve me." He picks a soft-looking pink leather collar out of the pile of tools his friends brought in, and Aaliyah doesn't like how well she can imagine it around her neck. "And then we can break you both back in again. You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this."
