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poodledoodle1 · 9 days ago

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act of trust - [tim wright x winged!reader]

summary: reader is a human-avian having trouble preening their wings. tim comes to help out :-)

genre: fluff

wc: 2.5k

contains: genderneutral reader, no description of readers physical appearance beside wings, pining, the most awkward attempt at writing a conversation ever, preening inaccuracies probably, reader is a proxy

cw: description of past cannibalism (um), implied cannibal reader, mentions of operator-sickness

a/n: i wrote this bcs i cant stop dreamimg about having wings and bcs i love tim. i was originally going to make this about jack because he's a 'monster' as well and it would have been more fitting but. oh how i love tim. there aren't enough tim fics out there and i have to change that. oh tim my pookie. this is also kinda based off my miserable self insert oc but shh

Sitting on the edge of the wooden railing of the cracked, old balcony with one of your wings curled towards your lap, you harshly tug your fingers through the dirty, dishevelled feathers in an attempt at keeping them neat and in place. It hurts. But the stinging sensation of pain has long since stopped bothering you, considering your line of work.

Being a proxy slave to an eldritch entity means day-to-day life is bound to be filled with all sorts of injuries and suffering. Whether that be by the hand of whatever unfortunate bastard you were hunting down or by the mind-controlling cryptid itself. It varies from the occasional punch to the throat to waking up in the middle of nowhere with a throbbing head and dried blood and tears crusted on your face, not remembering a damn thing about how you ended up here. Knowing you probably deserved it.

Either way, the pain is all the same and whining about it won’t get you out of its vicious clutches.

A sharp, howling gust of wind rushes past you into the foggy night, rustling your feathers and the branches of the thick forest behind the abandoned cabin you're calling home for the time being. It’s nearing the end of September, meaning days are getting shorter, the air chillier and the auburn maple leaves are dancing through the gentle breeze of change again.

The smell of petrichor is wafting through the air, gloomy weather becoming more common with the transition into autumn. It’s going to rain soon. You better hurry up with this.

With a frustrated sigh you stretch your wing a little further, not quite able to reach the one spot in the back. It’s always given you trouble, no matter how much you shift and bend. But you need to get it over with. You’ve been pushing it off for days and you have a long mission ahead of you in the morning. Something about a self proclaimed group of investigators, hiking through the grueling trails of Appalachia, knowing more than they should. You weren't really listening when your ‘coworkers’ were going over details.

You’ve been a part of their little murder group for almost five months now, consisting of you and four other mentally ill and miserable souls, all sharing the unlucky fate of getting caught like flies in the Operator’s wretched web of psychological torture and suffering.

You’re rather quiet around them. Too shy and socially awkward to even attempt holding a conversation. As a.. whatever people would call you –an angel maybe, a beast definitely– either way, you haven't really had a chance at normal human contact, leaving your social skills to be quite rusted. But it doesn't matter. You prefer listening to their banter.

The balcony door creaks open behind you and you smell him before you turn around to see him. Tobacco mixed with an earthy musk and an undertone of sweat.

Tim.

He doesn’t seem to notice you at first. Too preoccupied trying to flick the lighter on a few times to ignite the cigarette in his lips, before his eyes dart up to where your gaze is now pointed at him over your shoulder.

“Oh. Hey.”

His eyes flicker to your fingers combing through your wing. Eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Unsure whether or not the act of preening is something that should be done in private.

“Oh! Uh.. Sorry, didn’t know you’d be out here. I’ll just..-”, his speech slightly muffled with the cigarette between his teeth.

He points his thumb towards the door, already turning his body and taking a step towards it before you interrupt him with a:

“Stay. I don’t mind.”

“Uh, okay…” He clears his throat. “Yeah, cool.”

You watch his eyes screw shut, eyebrows furrowing in a pinch of embarrassment as he turns back towards you.

Amused, you focus your attention back on the problem at hand. Picking up your oil-slicked preening comb in the shape of a bird’s beak, you get back to work. It’s been laying abandoned by your side for long enough, you think as Tim leans his back onto the sturdy wooden railing you're sitting on. Once again flicking his lighter on and lighting the cigarette between his dry lips.

Minutes go by and a thick wave of awkward silence washes over the both of you. Only ever filled by the occasional huff of smoke leaving his lungs and the annoyed tsks and grunts escaping you because of the particularly entangled lump of feathers you're trying to set straight again.

You notice Tim glancing at you out of the corner of your eye every once in a while, never saying anything. You can tell he’s curious, yet too shy to speak whatever plagues his mind.

He’s almost finished with his cigarette by the time he finally breaks the silence, asking “Need help with that?”, probably wondering whether or not he’s crossing a boundary right now.

You barely hear him. Irritated. Taking a few seconds to process his words before your face softens and you let out a “Huh?”

“Ah, you know..-” He stiffly motions to your wing, heat rushing up his neck.

“Ya looked like you were strugglin’. Thought I’d offer.” He doesn’t meet your eyes now, unsure why he even asked in the first place, both of you knowing damn well he doesn't know a thing about preening wings.

“Oh! Um..”

You've never let anyone else do this to you. Not since her.

You still remember the feeling of sinking your teeth into her beating flesh. Heartbeat erratic, pounding under your molars. Hands pushing at your chin and temple, uselessly trying to force your jaw apart. You still remember the taste of her warm, metallic blood squirting on your tongue and splashing against the back of your throat, before swallowing it down your esophagus. You still remember feeling the clank of your teeth reconnecting around the thick piece of meat with a hefty bite. You still-

Enough. You force your eyes shut. Guilt won’t bring her back. Might as well try to get over it by creating new memories. This will be pleasant, Tim has treated you with respect since the beginning.

If you forget about how you got here in the first place.

But that doesn’t matter, it wasn’t his choice and you need to speak before he takes his offer back.

“Yes, please.” Looking at him again, your expression morphs into that of gentle admiration. It always does.

He huffs a nervous laugh through his nose, putting the cigarette out and flicking it towards the ashtray on the round glass table. He turns towards you and shuffles closer.

Hands twitching towards your wing, but not yet wanting to touch it. Unsure.

You shift, sitting up a little straighter, legs pressing tighter together. Fidgeting with the metal comb in your lap, trying to seem like this isn’t affecting you at all, stretching your wing in his direction.

“How do I..” He starts.

Oh right. You forgot he hasn’t done this before.

“Try to untangle them, if-if you can. Make sure they're all straight and get rid of the grime. It gets really uncomfortable if they're not all… Yeah.”

Your wings have been feeling particularly aching as of late. Covered in dirt, debris and the occasional tick. There’s no avoiding it when your job is to hunt people down like a feral animal charging through the woods. Unlike your partners, you don’t use any traditional weapons. Your teeth and claws, partnered with your stamina and ability to blend into the shadows are more than enough for you.

“Alright.” Handing him the comb, he carefully takes the large wing in his callused hand, trying his best to avoid it touching the metal. Acting like you're much more fragile than you really are.

His other hand reaches towards your multicolored feathers, running his fingers through them and brushing off crumbs of dirt. He’s always wondered what this would feel like. ‘Soft’, he likely thinks.

You’ve seen the way they look at the oddities emerging from your back. You’ve felt it. When you’re staring at the moving shapes through the car window. When you’re mumbling a hushed reply to one of your colleagues. You recognize curiosity when you see it. After all, it’s all you’ve ever been met with. Curiosity, pity and unadulterated fear.

You fold your other wing towards your lap, joining him in brushing fingers through it with the intent of saving time to get this done and over with.

Despite it usually feeling like a nice massage or like scratching an itch, you hate doing this. It’s a long, tedious process that typically steals hours of your time. Combing through your feathers absentmindedly while travelling is one thing, but it’s not often that you take your time to properly groom them like you’re supposed to do.

This often leaves your wings feeling uncomfortable and sometimes even painful, even when they're safely tucked away into the warm comfort of your body.

After untangling the lump of feathers you were struggling with earlier, you feel Tim take the comb into his other hand and begin to spread the waxy oil covering the comb over your wing. This makes them waterproof and helps maintain their condition. Not that he knows.

“Let me know if it hurts, yeah?”

As the leader of the group, Tim has always made it his mission to look out for his partners, repeatedly ignoring his own well-being to make sure they have it easy. Standing up to the Operator itself when it’s being especially cruel to them. To you. Knowing damn well he won't come out unharmed. Acting like he’s braver than he is.

You appreciate him for that.

It’s not often that a person sticks up for a beast like you. You’ve torn apart dozens of people with your bared fangs and sharpened claws.

Yet here he is. Brushing your feathers like you’re delicate. Holy. Something to be worshipped. You can’t contain the smile blooming on your lips.

“Yeah.”

The sound of rain drops gently hitting the balcony roof guides you out of your thoughts. Watching the water wet the large, empty field under the balcony, dirt path leading up to the house growing muddy. You hope the sky clears up by the time you have to leave.

“It's almost morning. What brings ya out here anyway, couldn’t sleep?”, you hear him ask.

“No.”

He hums, picking at a stray leaf stuck between your feathers. “I know the feeling.”

“Are you an insomniac?”, you wonder out loud. You’ve always been blunt.

A brief chuckle escapes his throat. “What makes you say that?”

“I hear you play guitar a lot. When you think everyone is sleeping.” Good dreams come to you easier those nights. When you fall asleep listening to the tender melodies and his quiet voice.

You feel his hands freeze for a second, “Sorry, uh..”, clearing his throat, he continues. “Didn’t know I was keepin’ you up with that. I’ll stop.”

“Don’t. I like it.”, you lied. You love it.

You barely catch him letting out a shaky breath over the sound of the rain. He continues fixing your feathers with the comb.

“Thanks.”

You see a flash of lightning from your peripherals. The distant storm clouds hanging far above the field you're facing. A few seconds pass and you hear the matching rumble of thunder somewhere. The rain is growing heavier, dampening your dangling legs.

“You know.. I’ve never seen you fly before.”, he starts. You recognize his statement to be a question in disguise. He wants to know, ‘Can you?’

“I used to. Somewhat. I just don't get the chance to do it anymore.” Spending most of your time in a dense forest, a cramped, stolen family van or in some cheap motel means there's not a lot of space to spread your wings in, leaving you to fold them into yourself more often than you’d like.

“I see.” He carefully plucks an insect off of you and flicks it down the balcony. Quietly, he asks, “Would you like to?”

“What?”

“Would you like to fly again?”, speaking louder this time.

Of course you would. Soaring through the skies, reaching your fingers towards misty clouds, spinning in the wind, watching the glistening stars with no one to suffocate you with their endless staring, no one to prick your skin, then veins with stainless steel, sucking up your blood in a small glass container, bringing it away to run the test of the day. Being alone. It was heavenly. Of course you would like to fly again.

“I would.”

“I ca- we can make time for that when we get back. If you want. Enough space out there, right?”

He’s talking about the field in front of you. Large and vacant. Without nosy strangers to watch. That could work. But you haven’t done it in so long, it would be embarrassing to fail in front of them.

“That would be nice.”

The balcony door slams open with a bang, both of you nearly jumping out of your skin. Tim’s hands leave your wing as you whip around to look behind you.

It’s Toby.

“The hhh-hell are y-you two doing?”

He barely gives you time to open your mouth before he starts speaking again, holding up a hand.

“Actually I don’t c-care, we have to guh-go soon, come on.” He grunts, head jerking towards his shoulder in a harsh, involuntary shrug. “B-Brian is already bringin’ the bags down. He actually w-wanted me to help with that but honessss… -honestly that prick can eat shit and die, so I came to get you guys inste-instead.”

He has such a way with words, you think to yourself.

Despite him starting the conversation off with urgency, he’s sauntering over to the wooden bench next to you now, slumping onto it with a groan of relief. Leaning his arms over the back, legs spread wide and head thrown back, making himself comfortable.

“God, I’ve been puh-packing for…” He lets out a guttural grunt again, face scrunches up. “-over an hour. 'M not helping him with fff-fuckall.”

Listening to him run his mouth all day is something you find amusing. The brunette constantly finding something to moan about, often bickering with Tim or Kate, seemingly unable to exist in silence.

“I told you to get it done yesterday, didn’t I?” you hear the man behind you scold as you shuffle your wings back upright and turn around.

“Fuck off, Tim”

He hands you the comb back and steps away from you, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and avoiding your eyes. His ears are red.

"Hey, watch your mouth before I throw your ass off this balcony."

As much as you would love to stay and watch these two bicker and try to beat each other up – as they so often do – you're getting rather cold out here and the rain is becoming harsher by the second. There's only so much the balcony roof can protect you from. They can fight in the car.

“We should go. Let’s not keep Kate and Brian waiting.”, you mutter, hopping down the railing and onto your dripping feet. You give your legs a few shakes each to brush the water off.

Your wings already feel much better. The day will be easy.

can u tell i've no idea on how to write an ending :3

this is my first time writing a fic ever so you aren't allowed to be mean to me btw

#what am i doing #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky marble hornets #masky x reader #oneshot #fluff #x reader #cringe

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forsaken-headcanons · 2 months ago

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Hii Koolkiller's 1# fan anon here with my Unnamed Forsaken au where the guys are their skins by default :) There are some tweaks to personality and lore. This is a LONG ONE!!!

Survivalists

Noob - Inverted, everyone's learned how to understand their backwards speech. They'd never say this, but they're incredibly greatful. Before meeting Guest, they were very shy and when they left, they became really prickly and harsh. It's a way they try and seem stronger and more emotionally intact than they really are. Deep down, they're still the Noob that we know.

007n7 - Windows. Made in area 51. Escaped due to the less than stellar treatment of the subjects. Met and adopted a very C00L kidd, and was a surprisingly good parent. The survivors are wary of him due to his.. "Origins". C00lkidd was taken away by the admins due to 007n7s status as a fugitive Experiment. 007n7 loathes them for this.

Two Time - Phoenix. The cult that normal TT is apart of is like the one that Phoenix is a part of, but worshipping "The Fire/Fire Ring" instead of "The Spawn" Two Time had to sacrifice themself instead of Azure. (Azure because the creature that they did in this au because of their grief.) They're a little more adjusted in this AU because the time they spent living as an actual bird, but they're still a little odd and eccentric.

Sentinels

Shedletsky - yksteldehS. To be fair it's kinda obvious. He acts like he doesn't care about anyone and anything apart from himself, but deep down, he's all mushy and warm inside for them. He'd gladly lay down his life if it meant for his friends, especially the admins, to be safe. Even 7n7. Hates fried chicken because he likes tacos waaaay more. (Also in this au because 1x was made by a part of all of yksteldehS' emotions, she's the ugly little roundy head thing and is normal yay good for her)

Chance - Avian Sight. Chance in this AU is an assassin. For a large sum of money, he can make someone "fly the nest." The mask covers their face, which is all kinds of scarred and damaged due to an accident they were in a long time ago. Still a gambler, but way spookier. He was saving up to get the surgeries he needed to "look normal again". They were miserable when they first arrived because of this.

Guest 1337 - Matt. What happened in that one scene of The Last Guest but Matt saved Guest I guess erm idk how to write Matt bro 😭

Support

Elliot - Alien. Crash-landed in Robloxia after accidentally being caught in an astroid belt. Even though they're confused, and not sure of what many of the strange people around them are saying, they know they have a job. To serve pizza. Sometimes, they yearn for the place where they come from, especially when the cold of the lobby seeps into them, as they come from a very hot planet. (They also miss a close friend of theirs deeply..)

Dusekkar - Dumsekkah. (Another obvious pick but whateva...) Dumsekkah is a travelling wizard, never staying in one place. Mostly because the odd happenings that plague the towns near where they stay, but Robloxia is filled with weird things so why tf are they doing that Dumsekkah found himself living near the HQ of Roblox when yksteldehS found him, and after some time, he was hired as one of Roblox's admins, and with how strong their magic is, they were the boost in strength that they needed. He isn't the brightest, but he'll keep those nasty killers at bay with a smile.

Builderman - Classic. (01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00100000 01000100 01100001 01110110 01101001 01100100 00101110 00100000)

Taph - The Dark Reaper. Taph, in this au, is a kind of Robloxian Cryptid. Some say Taph a malevolent being from the fourth dimension here to destroy Robloxia, others say Taph is simply just a creature that us angered by buildings being made over places where they shouldn't be, and thus are destroyed. The true reason Taph does it is because it can, and it gets bored. (Taph's speech in this au is wingdings lalala and it's translated like how Gaster talks in hand plates comic if anyone knows what I'm talking about tee hee)

And done!!! I have a bunch of ideas for lore fore this au so yay yippee

This AU seems so investing. I'm sensing that they're the opposite of their original personalities? I'd love to see some expansion on the world for this and how everyone feels about one another in this AU. This is interesting!

#forsaken headcanons #forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #007n7 forsaken #c00lkidd forsaken #chance forsaken #shedletsky forsaken #elliot forsaken #two time forsaken #dusekkar forsaken #taph forsaken #builderman forsaken #noob forsaken #koolkillers number 1 fan anon #mod missletsky🍗⚔️

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yandereanonymous · 1 year ago

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Ok so how about this. A farmer who learns about the resident cryptid and starts bringing stuff as a sort of offering so it won’t kill him or his animals. The cryptid thinks the farmer is trying to court him and wants to mate with him. Both the farmer and cryptid are male.

Thank you for writing this if you choose it!

Yandere Cryptid x farmer reader (M/M) ♡♤Romantic♤♡

TW/CW: Animal death, kids... fantasy of little cryptid children. Oh, also the use of snares and bear traps.

Summary: You live in a small town and your animals are dying. You find a feather after unsuccessfully trying to kill/deter the creature. After struggling a little to find an answer, you learn through a friend about this rumour about a cryptid who eats live stock. You attempt to please it, but it assumes you are attempting to court it.

You were a simple man in a simple town. Your life was mostly made up of scourching sun, harsh winters, and a lot of work taking care of your animals. You made little money, but had just enough to get by and incredibly kind neighbours.

Then, your sheep began to be torn to shreds in the night. Your goats were sucked dry of blood. Your cattle seemed to he able to take the damage fine enough, but boy, did they suffer...

You bought bear traps, snares, sprays, whatever it took to keep this predator away from your live stock. You found the bear traps dismantled, your snares broken, and the sprays simply ineffective. But you did find... a feather.

You took it to someone you knew who owned birds, and she said you were stupid to think she'd know what this was. So, you took it to your friend who was into zoology and worked at an animal sanctuary. She said it was oddly coloured and didn't seem to be from local wildlife. In other words, you were at a dead end.

That was until she made a joke about a local "bird monster" that has been terrorising the nearby town lately. When you asked, she laughed and said it was just a fishermen's tale about an avian creature who was 11 feet tall and had an almost 400 centimetre wingspan. It had mostly jet-black feathers with snow white ones on its face and blue feathers tinged its wings. Its eyes were a black void and it was overall owl-like. It walked on two legs and was humanoid with large talons.

It hunted live stock.

You quickly thanked her and rushed home to do some research. It didn't take long before you were giving up a little bit of meat to the thing to it would stop killing your animals. However, your bad luck did not end with the death of your animals.

The cryptid saw your gifts and did not realise what you were really asking. It made sense now...

The fresh meat, the little nest you had in your room, and even your shrill, high-pitched cry when you first found the animals dead. That was your mating call. An odd mating call for sure, but a mating call nonetheless. It felt... flattered.

It had never been considered for this kind of stuff before, mostly wallowing in loneliness and rejection, but now... now it has someone... offering to be its mate.

It can not let out down. It will not let you down! Those animals outside your home— you wanted it to kill them, didn't you? To prove its skill as a hunter. To see if it could provide for you. Well, it can. It can do that and so much more.

Though you are both male, the creature plays with images of adopting abandoned nestlings and raising them as your own. It would love to hear the sounds of cheeping in the night, after it has brought back fresh meat.

It wanted a mate, now it has one. Now, the only thing left to do... is to show you that it accepts your proposal.

#yandere monster #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere cryptid #yandere monster x reader

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fefe658 · 1 year ago

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Marine biologist human and giant mer.

Fairytale obsessed human and borrower.

Entomologist human and fairy.

Hawk trainer human and tiny avian.

Paranormal investigator human and giant cryptid

Will your passion overshadow your common sense? Or will you control yourself from the creature that changes everything about what you've known all your life?

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t prompt

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ticklytums · 1 year ago

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Better Days

(Husk and Alastor didn’t always have just moments of contention, and after Alastor’s attempts to ‘preen his wings’ turns devious, Husk finds the perfect payback…and Alastor may have discovered a new ability.)

Hints of Radiohusk my beloved, taking place back in the past with two gay dads and their daughter.)

“I don’t think Rosie much appreciated you leaving feathers strewn across her floors,” Alastor drawled as he and his compatriot made their way up the porch leading up into their manor. “In fact that’s definitely the reason we were sent home so early.”

Husk rolled his eyes as he resisted the urge to close the door in Alastor’s face. It was a temptation he might have given into if one of his arms wasn’t occupied with their sugar comatose little lady. Poor thing was still bloated with cake. “It had nothing to do with me, asshole. It’s because the little ankle biter here ate all of the desserts. I think she ate most of that cake herself.”

“No surprise there,” Alastor mused as he reached his arms out to take their sleepy bug into his own arms, handling her with the care and attentiveness few would see from the radio demon. Few were privileged to ever see such tenderness, unless they saw the radio demon and the girl that had become his daughter.

Husk couldn’t help the softer look that came to his face as he looked at the little face smushed into Alastor’s chest over his shoulder, her one eye blinking sleepily for a moment, before shutting once more.

As the duo disappeared down the corridor of their manor, Husk returned back to his wings, picking meticulously at the stray feathers starting to fall out of the open appendages. This had to be the worst thing about being an avian based creature. Part avian anyway.

Stray feathers were just so unbearably itchy when he went into a molt. Hearing Niffty and Alastor complain about the mess his feathers left on the floor didn’t make things any less annoying.

Not wanting to give Alastor a reason to nettle him (as if he needed a reason), Husk picked up the grooming brush, tilting his crimson wing at every angle to try and reach all the feathers. It was useless though, his body wasn’t meant to bend that way, and he was certain he heard a crack when he tried. “Ugh, fuck.”

“Require some assistance?”

“Shit!” Husk yelped out loud and fumbled with the bristled brush, which Alastor gleefully caught in one hand. “Why do you always have to spring out of the shadows like some fucking cryptid?” he snapped, which only seemed to make Alastor all the more amused.

“It’s more fun! Now, having some trouble are we?” he drawled, watching as the feline tried biting at a few of the itchy feathers. “Goodness, you’re shedding everywhere, like a caged little bird.”

Husk’s narrowed eyes said he didn’t appreciate the metaphor—less so the ‘caged’ part of it. “It’s not my fault, I didn’t ask for this fucking form.” He mewed in annoyance as Alastor grabbed a hold of his wing, sending him nearly off the barstool at the sudden shift of gait. “Alastor knock it off!”

“Oh come now,” the deer drawled, giving that crimson tip an innocent little tug as Husk meowed in annoyance and tried to bat him off. “I��m simply attempting to assist you! You can’t possibly reach the inner part of your wing, or the spine of them! Especially not the inner part! Come now, don’t you want a friendly hand?”

“No,” Husk drawled, trying once more to flap his wing free of the prick. He could only flap and move it so much while it was being held unless he wanted the bone to snap. “Keep your ‘friendly’ hands off me-ehe!?” He yelped as Alastor started meticulously running the bristles along the spine of his wing. Fuck. He knew what he was up to.

“Alastor knock i-ihit ohoff!”

“Ah no, I do not believe I will!” Alastor chirped as he started rubbing the bristles along the inner downy of Husk’s wings, pulling a snort as he tried not to burst into laughter. He attempted to channel it instead into a growl, but the bright giggles betrayed him.

“You fuhuhuhucker! Knock it ohohoff!” Husk made a swipe for the radio demon, slightly more light hearted in nature than any time he’d swiped at him in the past. Alastor dodged the swipes, and for that act of rebellion, rubbed the bristles deeper into his wing.

Husk’s laughter escalated as he tried to pull his wings against his side, but it was useless as Alastor kept his wing held out firmly. The bristles scrubbed further into the ticklish downy, and Husk’s laughter went up an octave. “Al nohoho! StAHAHAP!” He snorted as the deer’s claws gave an impish tweak into the underwing, and his tail thrashed madly.

This wasn’t an especially new occurrence since Alastor had learned he was terribly ticklish. In fact, he’d found ways to torment him with it as often as he possibly could.

“AHAHALASTOR NOHOHO!” Husk begged through raucous cackles as his paws scraped against the hardwood flooring, giggles spilling out through clenched teeth. The bristles felt like ticklish little spikes rubbing into the wing pits. God he was going to fucking murder this man.

“Ohhh, you make the most adorable little sounds when I get into your wings.” Alastor grinned viciously as he twiddled his brown talons, the crimson tipped claws running along through the feathers. “Hmm, I should see if there’s spare feathers that need to be plucked.”

“Thehehehere’s not!” Husk yelped, his eyes widening in horror when he realized what he was indicating. “Don’t do it! MEOW!”

He turned his face into the deer’s shoulder and muffled more shrieks of laughter into it as he felt those mischievous deer claws crawl into the downy. The claws scribbling were far more ticklish than the bristles, and far more purposeful of what he was intending. “YOU FUHUCKER! THAT’S NOT PICKING FEATHERS! KNOHOCK IT OFF!”

“Stay still, I don’t know why you insist on making a simple grooming session so ridiculously difficult.” The amused lilt to Alastor’s voice suggested he knew exactly what he was doing, and Husk let off a disgruntled hiss. As much as he could through the giggles trying to slip through.

“Y-youhoo aren’t fucking slihihick!” Husk snarled, attempting to swipe a paw through the air, unsure if he’d get a scratch in or a smack. His wings flapped more, and giggles were quick to spill out as Alastor’s fingers explored through the downy of his feathers.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, Husker! You know how much I do love just feeling the soft feathers on my skin.” It was the poor choice of wording the poor bastard didn’t seem to realize, and the perfect revenge was already in motion in his mind.

Come to think of it, he was quite certain he’d seen a similar giggling reaction when Niffty had playfully rubbed the feathers of her duster over him. It was a theory he hadn’t the courage to test out, but found himself more emboldened tonight.

In a sudden maneuver, Husk had spun around and swept the deer suddenly with a foot. He was impressed with himself that he’d actually managed to catch Alastor off guard, a rare feat in itself. “Well let me help you feel it then.”

Husk’s front and back paws perched together on the edge of the stool, his tail flicking with agitation and excitement as he leaped onto his prey. He was half expecting Alastor to disperse within the shadows. He knew he could. He wasn’t as fast as the radio demon, and yet the deer allowed himself to be jumped onto. He in fact allowed himself to be pinned down.

Then again, Husk knew Alastor wasn’t completely like a lot of overlords. He enjoyed the pushback. He loved to see just how many ways this captured little soul of his could utilize its claws.

Granted, never did Husk think he’d be using them to scribble at the deer’s tummy, but hey, any way that he could get Alastor back was a win in his book.

“Husker…” The dials turned in the deer’s eyes, but they blinked away with mirth as he squealed, feeling Husk indent his claws into his belly.

Husk’s ears pricked upward in a combination of disbelief, sadistic amusement, and just an iota of fondness. So Alastor was ticklish.

Delightful.

“Don’t you “Husker’ me, you son of a bitch,” he scoffed as he pushed into the soft skin, delighting in Alastor’s cackles. “We both know that you love when I use my claws,” he drawled, smirking as he fluttered over the wiggling skin. “Don’t think I’ve ever used ‘em this way on you before.”

Alastor knew Husk was right. He did so enjoy their antagonistic relationship and all the fun duels that would come of it. It was interesting to see just how many ways the kitten could use his claws. But, why this?

“Cat got your tongue?” Husk’s claws skittered up further to tuck under Alastor’s arms and the staticy cackles shrieked out even louder. His hooves beat against the floor as his hands found purchase against Husk’s, but oddly enough didn’t seem to care about moving them.

“Oh I knew it,” Husk grinned viciously at the overlord as his nails traced between his ribs. “You’re enjoying this.” He was pleased to see the bright dusting on his cheeks and the angry glare. It made sense honestly. Alastor loved games and he loved laughter. This kind of combined his two favorite things.

He decided he was being too kind to the deer by letting him see where he was targeting next, and so his claws slipped up underneath Alastor’s suit. The microphone feedback it elected made him wince, but he chuckled as Alastor squealed.

“NOHOHOHO! HUSK DOHOHON’T!”

Husk smirked as he started a slow drumming along the deer’s belly, endeared at the way the feline claws searching around his bare tummy brought forth little fawn like squeals and snorts. Husk couldn’t believe how adorable and childish the poor thing sounded. “You really are just a little fawn, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes as Alastor made an attempt to be threatening, antlers branching out for a moment. A punishing scribble across his tummy made them retract as Alastor bucked against the ground. “Yeah yeah, none of that now. Don’t want to ruin our game already by being the radio demon, huh?”

He for one was enjoying this. Who wouldn’t be allured at the idea of having their overlord at their mercy for any reason? Although the rare, lighter atmosphere surrounding them was…nice.

Over the years their antagonism was afforded rare moments of softness, especially with Niffty in their lives. A glimpse of the friendship that had been sullied by a contract.

Alastor’s genuine laughter was so bright and airy. It bubbled out in glee, with a nearly precious flick of his ears. Husk couldn’t help but notice he was making very little attempt to get away, almost surrendered into it as they played.

Well. Didn’t want to make it too comfortable for him now, did he? Husk readjusted his position on the poor deer, and inched his claws further up his suit. He was pleased to see his prey kick and struggle more. “You know, you’re always trying to antagonize my cat behavior, so how about I just make it easier for ya?”

His claws planted along the deer’s bottom ribs and tummy, and began to knead and massage into the sensitive flesh there. The potent little pokes, almost sharp enough to hurt, got even louder shrieks of laughter.

“HUSK STAHAHAP!” Alastor snorted, yelped, and barked out more staticy laughter through screeching microphone feedback. When Husk’s claws got dangerously close to his bellybutton, he nearly babbled out a plea for mercy.

The feline blinked in surprise and just barely traced his claw along the edge of his bellybutton. The effect was electric. Alastor kicked and bucked, and to his horror and humiliation, a deer bleat squeaked out.

Husk blinked for a moment as that…frankly adorable sound processed. Then to Alastor’s further horror, he burst into laughter. “Ohoho my fuck! Whahat was thahat? That was so cute! Did I push a button or something?”

He rose an eyebrow when he saw the dials return to Alastor’s eyes as the radio host growled. Scoffing, Husk’s claws flexed back into the soft flesh of his belly, and Alastor fell back into laughter. “Put those antlers away, I’m not gonna tell anyone. But…I do feel like pushing buttons.”

Alastor gave him a warning look and shook his head, but Husk only nodded back without fear and tasered his claw into the deer’s bellybutton. The radio host screeched and now the feline was struggling just to keep him pinned down.

It seemed he had found ‘the death spot’, and Husk was fully intending on exploiting the spot to its fullest extent, if he could just get the cannibal to stay still. Each dig was sending off electrocutions of sensitivity, and nearly pulling a hiccup from the deer.

The deer beat and smacked his hooves uselessly against the ground, until finally he’d kicked off a shoe. Husk blinked as it went flying, and when he saw the little hoof that was struggling to curl in, he felt the fear radiating off of the cannibal.

Hm. Maybe he hadn’t found the deer’s death spot yet. Husk turned to the wiggling hoof, and his eyes dilated playfully, following the movement. He turned and jumped on it, and didn’t expect Alastor’s resulting reaction.

“NONONO!” Alastor tossed himself onto his stomach and began hilariously scrambling his claws into the floor. “Husk please, you’ve gotten me back!”

“Please?” The feline looked back at him, taken aback and very very amused. Alastor must be really bad here if he was begging. If anything, that just ensured he had to try this spot. Husk smirked as he grabbed the overlord’s ankle, and just barely grazed a nail along the arch of the deer’s foot. The resulting scream was glorious.

He was deathly ticklish on his hooves, it was the only real spot that could break him quickly. If Husk found that out, it’d be the end for him! Yet it seemed it already was, as claws scribbled relentlessly up and down his hoof.

Alastor howled with laughter into the floor. He beat his fists, slamming repeatedly into the hard wood as he hiccuped and shrieked, past the point that he could get out any words.

“Shhh, keep it down man,” Husk pretended to scoff, thoroughly enjoying each desperate scream and babble. “You’re gonna wake Niffty and we’re gonna have to deal with her. Don’t want her seeing you like this do ya? She’d love to join in.”

His claws found the deer’s toes, drilling in. The scream from Alastor reverberated with feedback as mirthful tears squeezed from his eyes. Another unheeded babble of mercy squeaked out, and before either of them realized it, strange shadowy appendages flailed from his form.

They careened into Husk, who yelped and fumbled off of the deer. He shoved himself up off the floor just enough to see the strange tentacles waving in the air. Alastor was staring at them with wonderment.

“The fucking fuck?!” Husk yelped out in disbelief. “What the shit are those? Where did they come from? Never fucking seen them before.” He couldn’t help but feel fear curdling in his gut. Alastor had amassed new powers?

Catching his breath, the deer curiously ran a hand along one of the shadowy things. It felt almost leathery and cold. “How interesting! Of course I have made quite a few new deals lately and have honed some new abilities. Perhaps this is one of them?”

“Yeeeeah, uh, I’m not a fan.” He backed up from his boss, not liking how the slithery things were looming over him. “Put them away Ursula.” To his horror, Alastor seemed to have clued in to the same thing Husk was fearing. “No. Don’t you even.”

“You really think you can get off tickling the radio demon without receiving punishment in return?” Alastor chuckled sinisterly as his eyes blackened and dials glowed.

“It was revenge for the wings, you asshole!” Husk scrambled to get up but shrieked as the tendrils were faster. A wobbling grin plastered his face before he could stop it, even as he hissed and swiped at the tendrils.

“And now I’m having my own revenge.” He was pleased to see his prey squirm. It was always fun to watch them struggle, and flop about until they realized freedom was hopeless. “You should feel honored, Husker! You're helping me test out these new powers!”

Husk’s claws made hilarious squeaking sounds as they grated across the floor. “Oh yeah, fucking fantastic,” he drawled as he was pulled closer and closer to Alastor. “My life’s long aspiration has been to help some weirdo with his newfound octopus powers.”

A bark of laughter couldn’t even be concealed as he felt the tip of the tendrils flick along the pads of his feet. “Nohoho! Ahahahalastor! Dohohon’t, you priiHIIIHIHICK!” The tendril exploded in wiggles along his foot, delighting in the way the poor feline screamed and kicked.

“Hmmm, the volume dial seems to be acting haywire! I don’t appreciate such a muffled tone!” Alastor grinned and grabbed Husk, yanking him off his stomach and onto his back where he could hear his laughter and screams freely. “Think Hell would appreciate a different broadcast?” he teased.

“YOU BEHEHETTER FUCKING NOHOT!” the bartender yelped, horrified by the mere thought of it. He wouldn't put it past Alastor and that thought horrified him. He meowed loudly, much to Alastor’s delight, and attempted to batter the deer with his wing. The feather attacking him brought bright giggles from Alastor, whose appendages were having a hard time focusing now.

After a few moments of attempting to school his concentration back, Alastor managed to utilize even more of the tendrils and Husk found himself at the radio demon’s mercy as a few more of them drilled into the hollows of his wings. It was nearly overwhelming. Alastor never had the ability to attack so many spots at once.

Husk shrieked and flapped his wings desperately, the appendages battering more at the deer and flailing uselessly. He kicked his feet, raucous cackles and gruff laughter muffling into the floor. “AL NO! AL STOP STOP!” he pleaded, screaming when the radio demon only seemed to increase his ferocity.

Alastor was satisfied to watch his companion struggle, but when he noted Husk’s face starting to twist up in discomfort, the game lost its appeal. Bodily harm wasn’t what he was going for this time, so he stopped. It wouldn’t be as fun to hurt him this time around. It would ruin the spirit of their little game, and…Alastor found he rather enjoyed it.

Husk was intent to quickly scurry away before his boss changed his mind, but to his alarm, he found those tendrils winding around his arms. Panic prickled for an instant, but before Husk could really struggle he was yanked down onto the deer’s chest.

Crimson arms had enveloped him and for a moment the feline could just blink. This was even rarer than the past few minutes had been. Alastor did have a penchant for physical affection, but it never seemed genuine. Normally it was a gesture that could be used to degrade him, like the way he scratched his ears. An actual hug was rare.

Husk found his ears folding back blissfully and purrs rumbled, betraying the annoyed struggling he’d tried doing. At least he was pleased by the soft giggles that he got when his paws unconsciously kneaded the deer.

Try as he might to maintain a healthy professional distance from Alastor, he had a way of reeling him in, and trapping him in this strange little familial unit they had created. A family by chance, circumstance, and contracts. To an onlooker, he knew they looked like two dads and their daughter when they were out on a stroll. …Wasn’t far from the truth.. …Perhaps that’s one reason the chains hurt so bad sometimes, still feeling them tight in his subconscious.

No matter any affection that was exchanged between them both, or the better days they shared, those metal links would forever poison anything they could be. The thought was enough to sour Husk’s expression. Alastor noticed, and so in a last moment of daring cheek, feline instincts had him groom Alastor’s hair and face.

“Oh-eugh! Disgusting!” Alastor groaned, quick to shove his pesky cat to the ground and wipe the saliva off him. “You and your damn grooming. Sullying a good moment between us.”

It ain’t that that sullied it, Husk thought, but kept the bitter words to himself. Instead he sat up against the floor and smirked over. “Thinking of using your new playthings on Niff?” He was amused to see Alastor still toying with the tendrils like a child.

“Use what on me?” There their girl stood, with her adorable red bob of hair lopsided from sleeping on it as she rubbed her eye.

“Ohhh, just a fun little game!” Alastor looked at the little lady and gave a scheming smirk—the kind that had Husk’s stomach doing flips. “I’ll give you both ten seconds to get a headstart.” He grinned as his tendrils suddenly sprung out of the shadows, flicking and rippling through the air.

“Shit—move aside Niff!” Husk yelped as he skidded across the flooring, and Alastor was quick to give chase, the merriment drifting through out their manor.

#ticklish!alastor #ticklish!husk #alastor #husk #niffty #radiohusk #hazbin hotel fanfic

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