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brutal-nemesis · 4 months

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big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him.

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue.

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing.

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore.

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump

@starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg @pumpkin-spice-whump

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen

@whumpedydump

#i wrote something #whump-in-the-closet #thanks troy this was super fun!#castys & terror au #castys #neteri #whump #tongue whump #the best part about writing this was i just copy pasted some of neteri's dialogue and actions from e&t ch2 lmao #i missed writing her tho fuck :(#i know it's my own fault but still (┬┬﹏┬┬) my girl #and then castys is easy as fuck to write yippee #by the time wick asked me about him getting his hair cut i had already written the beginning of this #and i didnt really know how to work it in 😔 so just know that if he had longer hair and it got cut it would have made him very happy #and probably lulled him into a bit of a false sense of security #castys deserves a collar at all times tbh he is a feral animal and i need to pull him around by the neck #plus he looks soooo good with one on especially if it's red (it's black here tho 😔)#god neteri being threatening to him is so sexy #and then no more tongue HAH HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT MISTER STUPID COMEBACKS #NOBODY WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOU #just be a good little test subject from now on (he won't)

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tenderjock · 29 days

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like the moon moves the tides [agent carter werewolf au]

part i. hackles raised

It takes Peggy approximately thirty seconds to sniff out the other wolf in the SSR office.

It’s definitely a him, not one of the phone girls or an odd female assistant or interviewee. And it’s someone who is a frequent fixture of this building. The office smells of him, like he’s been marking territory – not literally, she hopes, since the last thing Peggy wants to deal with is a wolf that thinks it’s acceptable to piss on walls. He smells young. There’s something almost, well, not hostile, exactly, but combative about the scent.

She ignores the comments from the human men, appreciative or mocking or both, and places her briefcase down on the desk Chief Dooley had indicated was for her. It’s way in the back, across from the table with a paper shredder and pencil sharpener and farthest away from the commissary.

Colonel Phillips had told her, when he’d given the recommendation, that the Howlies had been the exception rather than the rule in the SSR. Dooley knows she’s a wolf, but part of her contract involves not telling anyone else in the office. Humans may know about their furry cousins, but even after the war, when whole packs mixed in battalions alongside humans, there was a fair amount of discomfort between the two races.

Peggy hadn’t particularly expected to find another one of her kind among these men in New York. It’s no big surprise that the other men are already dismissive of her on day one; she’s worked with humans before. It’s no surprise she’s been relegated to a secretary role. It’s no surprise, it’s just – frustrating.

A clunky, stepping sort of noise catches her attention. Peggy glances up without moving her head, and sees the bottom half of a man using a crutch to walk. He stops at her desk.

She finds herself resisting the urge to growl reflexively. It’s not this poor fellow’s fault that she’s in a new environment, without allies and quite literally cornered. Swallowing the aggression, she looks up.

He’s handsome enough, she notes, with dark curls that are fighting a liberal application of pomade and a shy, slightly awkward smile. He extends a hand, oblivious or uncaring of the way half the office is staring at them.

“Hey there,” he says, tone friendly. Peggy inhales subtly; there’s a hint of arousal there, but not too much, no more than would be expected from a human man seeing an attractive woman in any casual context. More than anything, he smells hopeful, anticipatory, eager to please. “Daniel Sousa. Welcome to the team.”

Someone snickers and it’s like a light has been turned on in Peggy’s head. She’s lived in packs her whole life, first her family and then the Howlies; human hierarchies aren’t so different. Of course, the crippled man would be at the very bottom of the office’s pecking order. Her existence just boosted him one step further up the ladder.

At least he’s being polite about it. Without looking at the snickerer, she takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Peggy Carter,” she says. “I appreciate it.”

Sousa doesn’t linger, just gives her one last smile and a nod and crutches back to his desk, which is a few in front of hers. She watches him go, thinking, then starts to unpack her things and start work. Putting away her meager belongings – a few fountain pens, a notebook and an emergency, backup lipstick – doesn’t take much time. After a few moments, Peggy supposes she cannot put off the inevitable any longer, and she turns to the stack of reports that Dooley wanted her to retype and file.

As she’s bending over the first file, the male wolf steps into the room.

Peggy can’t help it. Her head snaps up. The wolf is in the doorway leading into the bullpen, stock still, nostrils flared. The whites of his eyes are showing all the way around, and there’s a hot, heady flare of adrenaline-fearsubmission-anger.

Peggy stares at him. He stares back. No one else in the office seems to pay them any mind – if this were a wolfpack, Peggy thinks, people would be circling for the fight. She doesn’t stand up, because that’s just going to make a young, male wolf who is unsure of his place angrier and more volatile.

The scent marking makes more sense, now. He’s a submissive kind, unused to work around humans, perhaps? Overcompensating for it, and he’s taking her as a threat rather than as a potential friend.

Even though it takes every ounce of willpower she has to stay in her seat, to stay woman-shaped, to not bare her teeth and snarl, Peggy remains where she is, watching the wolf as he approaches her. His posture is casual, now, slouching with his hands in his pockets, but his scent is still writhing with emotion.

He comes to a stop at the end of her desk and leans a hip against it. (Peggy can’t help herself. She flashes a quick hint of fang. He only smirks.) She looks up at him, eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t realize Dooley was getting us a typist,” he says, sounding smug. At least, his tone sounds it; his blood pressure smells like it’s through the roof and he’s sweating. His fingernails are sharper and a touch longer than they should be, and his pupils are glinting yellow.

Here’s the thing: if Peggy were any other female wolf – or even quite a few male wolves – she would be finding herself defensive, intimidated even. But she’s fought in battles most of the men here would have no words for, and her last pack had been led by a person that could tear this wolf apart with his bare, human hands. She’s certainly not going to back down from this pup, but she’s not going to pick a fight on her first day of work, either.

“Agent Margaret Carter,” she replies rather sternly. “I’m a transfer from the European field office.”

The claws slowly sink back under his skin. His scent settles, a little, but not as much as Peggy would like it to. “Right,” he says. “I’m Agent – ” the word is mocking “ – Jack Thompson. There’s some more filing that needs to be done on the Skaneateles case. But since you look all settled in, how’s about refilling the coffee pot? Or do they not do coffee in Europe?”

She glares at him, well aware that there’s nothing she can do. Thompson’s well aware of it too, judging by the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Thanks, Marge,” he says over his shoulder, and saunters away, a definite tinge of amusement in his scent. Peggy clenches her hands, with their perfectly manicured nails that she was loath to ruin scraping his blond hair off of his head, into fists.

So much for having an ally among all these men. She consciously ungrits her fangs, and gets up to make some coffee.

#peggy carter #agent carter #jack thompson #daniel sousa #peggy v jack #backwards and in high heels #mcu #myfic #this au is so fun to me!!!!!! i'm kicking my little feet and twirling my hair as i write it #jack as a werewolf is somehow more of a prick then jack as a human and i do think its especially funny that peggy knows from DAY ONE #how insecure he really is. i think he deserves that. i know he deserves that #also peggy is totally wrong about the root cause of jack's insecurity and his refusal to go along with wolf customs #but thats an explanation for another ficlet!! lmao #like the moon moves the tides au

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