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According to tales of a few old hags that Katsuki wouldn’t put a grain of trust in, some people were given a soulmate and it was a done deal for you once it happened. Fuck your will, your body brought you kicking and screaming to the other person. Katsuki was one of those people.

His happened to be of the special sort—four-legged, sharp teeth, yellow eyes, shaggy coat, toe beans, spoke in woofs, woofs, and bark, bark,  buried shit in the backyard—a werewolf, his soulmate was a werewolf. Which was funny if you’re fucked up like Katsuki because Katsuki’s profession dealt in the supernatural, and he carried the ammunition to end them.

And yea, yea, he could hear oh my god, you met your soulmate; how did it happen? Was it in a picturesque coffee shop, the autumn leaves dragging their brittles bodies over the sidewalk, the sky looking like a watercolor painting with oranges and pinks, you were glancing one way and they the other and, like fate, your gazes clicked, the world fell into place; you finally found that corner piece to the jigsaw puzzle; you understood why the sun rose and moon dipped?

No, their first meeting went something like this—

Enter in a black, cool, totally real black 69 Chevy Impala—fine, enter in a dismantling, rusting, Cherokee, two  inexperienced young hunters on the edge of 17, a trunk full of weapons to hit them both with several felony charges for possession of a illegal firearm, enough questionable items like chains and ropes to hit them with horrified looks, and a rampaging Wendigo with a high body count and questioning local law enforcement and a terrified town.

The moon hovered, full, orange, grey clouds passing over it, emitting light then losing it. Headlights cut through the black road as it edged further from the town and to the mountains. Hear the leaves spinning mini windmills as the Jeep tested 60 on a 40 mph road. Katsuki had the wheel. Eijirou called shotgun. Denki sat in the backseat, dragged in by association and not a profession. They’re decked in tight jeans, black shirts, and jackets to buffer the wind chill.

Normally music would fill the car, but Katsuki was serious tonight. He was impatient. He kind of supposed to be at the house and not out hunting without an experienced hunter but they’re not a large group and Aizawa was out of town, working a case with a vengeful ghost a few weeks before corpses starting turning up. Pride had Katsuki putting the phone back, the dial tone heavy in his ear. He was almost eighteen, knew his way around a gun and he picked up quick what little Aizawa taught him. Also, with warden gone, Katsuki had free range of Aizawa's personal library and journals on everything supernatural. Detailed entries of his own run-ins, recountings of other hunts.

Aizawa held off on giving Katsuki a real job as a hunter. If he did this right, got rid of the Wendigo, then he could prove Aizawa he was up for the real deal

He did the legwork, marked down where the bodies were last seen or said to be at to where the bits and pieces were discovered days later. He had a good guestimate of where to find it

Eijirou had his Razor phone, it should be fine.

“How about some music?” Denki suggested, leaning off the passenger seat to play with the silent radio. He poked a few buttons, twisted the dials when it didn’t turn on.

“Hey, fucker, lay off the radio—“


It's close to midnight

Something evil's lurking from the dark


Katsuki hissed and turned off the radio, sneering at Denki.

Denki nodded to himself, “So, no music, okay, no music. Cool with me. Very cool. Ultra cool.”

Katsuki said to Eijirou. “Tell him if he doesn’t shut the fuck up he won’t like where I’m putting my foot.”

“Dude,” Denki whispered, draped over the back of the passenger seat to pass the message ‘covertly’, a term Denki was still grasping at as Katsuki overheard him say, “This guy is a total buzzkill, why are you friends with him?”

“The radio’s off, dumbass.”

Denki slumped back. “I wanted to play Madden. Now I’m going to the woods because your weirdo friend is superstitious.”

Katsuki shifted his eyes to the rearview mirror, catching Denki’s face as the light played hide and seek over his face, illuminating, then shadowing between the canopy of the trees. “Okay, riddle me this, wise ass. What killed all those people?”

“Animals, duh. We got bears and everything here.”

“That’s not what’s happening. You think a bear can do that?”

“You are seriously crazy, my dude. Nutty as a squirrel.”

Katsuki parked the car in the lot for the preserve. “Alright, let’s load up,” he said, taking the key out of the ignition and rounding to the back.

He lifted the trunk, scoping out their material under the small light in the roof of the Jeep.

Denki’s grating voice floated behind him. “Wow you’re dramatic—holy shit that’s a lot of guns.” Katsuki checked the mag of a 9mm, while Eijirou loaded the double barrel shotgun. “Why do you have a murder chamber in the trunk of your car…Eijirou, I think he’s kinda…coo-coo.”

“Go back to god damn car.”

“No way, I’ll be bored as hell in there.”

“You’ll be fucking alive and way less annoying in the car.”

“We can’t just leave him alone,” Eijirou said. “What if it comes for him?”

“Yup,” Denki bobbed his head, pointing at Eijirou, clearly not valuing his life or that hand of his, because he had full visual of what Katsuki packed in the Jeep and the pure silver machete blade he sheathed to his hip. “What if the Wendigo gets me too.”

Man, he really wanted to use one of the tranq darts on him, but it would be a waste of their supplies…and Eijirou might get upset if he stabbed him with a needle. “No one is asking for your input,” he told Denki, then ignored him, which was getting harder and harder to do,  “We can’t babysit him and hunt. This is why I said to leave his ass back at the house but no. Don’t take my advice.”

“Well I couldn’t be mean and leave him.”

“Yes, you could.”

Denki leaned off the car. “I’m really not surprised you have like no friends, dude.”

“Fine, hold the fucking flashlight. You run and die then that’s on you. So try to keep your two brain cells working and stay close.”

Denki pointed the beam of light under his chin. “Yea, sure.”

Katsuki shot Eijirou a look, how the fuck do you hang out with this idiot

Eijirou smiled, guilty, eyes landing places on Denki with unmistakable longing.

“Oh,” Katsuki wrinkled his nose and groaned. “Oh, gross as fuck dude.”

Eijirou panicked. “Shhhh. Be quiet, be quiet, please.”

“Ew, fucking ew, man. You can do better.”

“Can we please go find the Wendigo?” Eijirou begged.

He slammed the trunk and started for the trail flanked by the picnic table and a small shack.









Denki clicked his tongue, “Oh, Wendigo, Wendigo. Come out, come out, wherever you are. We’re some nice tasty boys for you to nibble on.” He cupped his ear, listening to the empty trees creaking under the pressure of the breeze, then smirked to Katsuki.

He couldn’t shoot him but leaving Denki in the woods was totally acceptable, right? Yea. He would just—“You’re thinking evil thoughts, again, so Imma have to tell you not to act on them.”

“It’s barely fucking evil. I can think up of worst shit than what I got in my head.”

Denki aimed the light under his nose. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asked, walking backward.

Katsuki barked. “Point the fucking light, asshole, do you think we can see in this shit ass dark? No.”

“Man, you need to mellow out,” Denki advised, rolling his eyes, and snottily turning his nose at Katsuki like he was the uptight one when they were literally hunting a human eating monster. So excuse him if he didn’t want to be human chow and die alongside this idiot. “You gotta have some fun,” he said right before his foot tripped over something in the dark, and flashed the light to the forest floor to see what was it when it landed on the dead black eyes of a corpse”—holy fucking tap dancing Santa!” He crab-walked back.

“It’s a deer, pussy,” Katsuki scoffed. “Get your ass up.”

Denki wobbled to his feet, inching slowly to the dead deer.  “Is it dead?”

Katsuki sent him a dry look. “No, its guts are just on the floor—of course it’s dead, numbnuts!”

“Oh god,” Denki hiccupped, then slapped his mouth. “I’m gonna hurl. Here, take the light.”

“Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

Denki raced to a bush and vomited.

Katsuki moved the light over the fresh corpse, red blood played back brilliantly under the glow, vibrant and rich as rubies. Whatever got to it, chewed out its throat and bled it fast and then started on the soft underbelly. He passed Eijirou the light and squatted and unsheathed the machete and poked at the folds of ruptured and serrated skin to judge the imprint of teeth and claws.

Eijirou asked, looking away from the corpse to see that Denki was one, still alive and two, still emptying the contents of his stomach in the bush. “Is it from the Wendigo?”

Katsuki cringed at the wet sound of meat and skin as he lifted the dangling flap of the stomach and checked inside. “No. They like their taste closer to human. But it had to cut down on chew time with people avoiding the woods so maybe. Coulda been eating and got distracted by someone.”

“Or something,” Eijirou added.

“What?” Katsuki glanced in question.

In answer, Eijirou tracked the beam of light over the body where a set of animal tracks left the body and headed deeper in the woods. “There are tracks. See?”

They inspected the tracks closely.

Katsuki measured his hand over it to gauge the size.

Eijirou whistled. “Dang hell of a paw print. Probably bear.”

He shook his head. The main pad was narrow and the toe pads long and pointed. “Nah, it’s a wolf. Bears have wider paws.”

“What, you tell me when you’ve seen one that big.”

“I didn’t say a regular wolf.”

“What,” He blinked. “Oh, ohhh. Wait, we have werewolves?”

“We’ve been tracking a Wendigo for the past two weeks, genius.”

“So, now what?”

Katsuki straightened and dusted off the dried pine needles clinging to his jeans. “We keep going.”

“But there’s a werewolf now.”

“So? We got silver on us.”

“…But it’s a werewolf,” he repeated.

Denki howled. “Woo, man I just unloaded that whole box of Hot Pockets. What’s popping?”

“There’s a werewolf,” Eijirou informed him.

Denki forced his face to stay blank. “Oh, yes. Werewolves. Yes. Naturally. We’re following the alphabet of supernatural creature. What’s next Big Foot, shit, that’s B. Wouldn’t fit the theme we have tonight.”

Katsuki whirled on him, and jabbed Denki in the chest. This guy had been nothing but trouble so far, talking his ear off, vomiting in the woods, letting the whole damn place know they were here. “You’re gonna become bait if you don’t shut the fuck up. We’re a walking Happy Meal and you announcing that shit is fucking us over royally.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yea? Well, so far all we found was a bunch of trees and one dead animal that made me puke my dinner. I don’t think your ‘Wendigo’ exists, dude. Old man Aizawa pouring stories in your brain.”

“Oh cause you’re a fucking expert.”

He waved his arms. “It’s called common sense, dude!”

“You’ve done nothing but bitch and bitch since we got here. You got an issue with this shit then fucking wait for us by the car.”

Denki shrugged. “Cool with me, dude.”

“Wait, you can’t go alone,” Eijirou called.

Denki laughed. “Oh yea, the big old Wendigo gonna get me. Pfft, please.” He pivoted on his heel, and started blindly through the darkness, and collided into a tree. “Son of a—“

“Denki,” Eijirou whispered as Denki complained, rubbing his nose. “Back up.”

“What the hell are you—“ The Wendigo snarled deep in its chest, hungry grey eyes scanning over them inside a face that looked a cross between human and elk. Its snot was pulled outward like one, but the shape of its eyes was undeniably human. Antlers, black and broken like a brittle tree in winter, rose from the top of its skull, casting a harrowing shadow over Denki as his mouth dropped.

The thin limbed creature towered, silent except for it labored breath. “Oh…Oh…OH!”

The Wendigo bellowed.

Eijirou raced and snatched him by the back of his collar, yanking Denki in time before the Wendigo swiped its claw out. “Oh my freaking god, oh my god. He was freaking telling the truth.”

Katsuki un-holstered his black 9mm, loaded with silver bullets, and let out a clear whistle. The Wendigo’s bald, thin-skinned head snapped in his direction. Grey lips slicked back and showed a mouth full of jagged, yellowed, and spit-glossed teeth.  “Hey, ugly fuck, bring that ass over here. Daddy’s got what you need.”

Denki screeched. “What the heck is going on?! Please, someone, tell me I’m high.”

The Wendigo blurred in front of Katsuki; he flinched—surprised at the speed of it— and fired off a bullet, completing missing its bony shoulder.

It howled out another horrid cry.

Katsuki backed up, losing every inch of distance he gained between him and the Wendigo.

“Eijirou, hook me up with a Molotov!”

“Right,” Eijirou opened the book bag, and twisted off the cap of a cheap bottle of Vodka, stuffing in an old rag.

Denki grabbed the sides of his head. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

Another bullet cut into the bark of a tree.

Katsuki cursed, “Eijirou!”

Eijirou patted his pockets for a lighter. “Shit, shit, shit. Denki, gimme your Zippo.”

“Are we going to die?”

“ Dude, your lighter, c’mon!”

Denki fished it out, flicked back the tin top, and ran his thumb over the flint wheel while Eijirou held the end of the rag over it. “Fuck, fuck. I think its empty.”

“Didn’t you refill it?”

“I don’t—dude how was I supposed to know we were gonna need a lighter! You guys are the expert.”

“Jesus,” Katsuki rummaged through his jacket as he darted in between the trees to keep the Wendigo busy on him. He bolted right past Denki and Eijirou and tossed a Bic lighter, clipping Denki on the forehead with it. “Hurry the fuck up!” He barked, then went back to being chased by the Wendigo.

Denki winced. “Dude, the fuck!”

Katsuki was fully sprinting at this point; their high school track team would be so proud of his excellent form and endurance. “I am being chased, fuck you!”

“I thought this was your job!”

Eijirou smacked his bicep. “Light it.”

“Okay.” He tried the wheel. ”C’mon, light you piece of shit.”

Either intelligent enough to understand their tactics or cursed by really awful luck, the Wendigo switched meals then, and started for Denki and Eijirou.

Eijirou stuffed the bottle into his pocket, shoved Denki out of the way and grabbed the double barrel shotgun, aiming with his eyes. Silver rounds would slow it but only fire would take it down for good.

The Wendigo juked to the right then left, and Eijirou’s eyes failed to keep up with his erratic movements.

The Wendigo snapped its arm out and closed a grip around Eijirou’s neck, lifting his kicking feet off the ground. The bottle, already bulbous and too wide in his back pocket, wiggled out from the scruffle and shattered on impact, glass shards rolling over the grass as the earth soaked up the Vodka.

“Eijirou, I got you, man. Yippee-ki-yay, dickbag,” Denki shouted, racing with a long branch and brought it across the Wendigo’s spine.

It regarded him as the wood snapped in two.

Denki looked at the splintered end in his hand. “Oh come the fuck on.”

It swiped at Denki, launching him far through the air. His body made a harsh, meaty sound when he hit the bark of a pine.

It looked back at Eijirou and tightened its grip, cutting off Eijirou’s air supply until he fell unconscious in its hands.  The Wendigo opened its mouth, putting Eijirou’s head in between its teeth.

“Fucker!” Katsuki slashed the machete across one arm, forcing the Wendigo to shriek in pain and release Eijirou.

It recoiled back, the cut didn’t do much. A superficial wound with blood bubbling out and down its arms.

Katsuki positioned himself in front of Eijirou’s knocked out body and twirled the blade. “It’s me and you ugly ass motherfucker.”

The Wendigo’s call thundered so profoundly that his teeth rattled from the sound of it.

Katsuki smirked at the creature; too proud to let it show on his face that he was terrified of their odds of surviving. Their best bet was to go back to the Jeep and try again with Aizawa, but Eijirou and Denki were out cold and he couldn’t carry both. He had to detain it until one of them woke up.

Swallowing the bile in his gut, Katsuki charged forward, chambering up his arms for a powerful swing to the Wendigo’s thin belly but the Wendigo barreled forward, planting Katsuki on his back. The machete flew out of his hand, landing beyond his reach.

Katsuki kept the Wendigo from tearing his neck out by pushing back on its wet forehead and bottom of its jaw. Spit dripped on to his face, rolling off his cheek. Its rotting breaths coated his tongue with sulfur as it cried in frustration. His arms started to buckled, losing strength. Its jaw got closer. Katsuki grunted, adjusting his hold to push against it, and his thumb slid behind its teeth and pressed on the bottom of its mouth. Pain nicked through it, sliced by the sharp edges. He could feel blood swell from the cut and the taste of him slicking the Wendigo’s palette redoubled its effort.

His arms started to tremble. He lost another inch to the Wendigo. “Piss off.”

Katsuki only heard the sound of a creature moving in the night before a shadow leapt from the darkness and bucked the Wendigo off him and sent it careening into a boulder. The growl that followed on its arrival had Katsuki crawling backward to where his machete laid by the exposed roots of a tree.

The creature snapped its head at the sound of leaves and twigs crunching.

Katsuki froze.

He met the blowtorch blue eyes, flashing otherworldly in the dark, and it took a second for him to make the connection from the blue electric eyes to the white fur, narrow snot, pointed ears,  the fluffy tail—werewolf.

Its snarling features softened, looking more like the domesticated Husky and less like the horror movie wolf from Van Helsing. Its ears twisted straight, its gums vanished behind it lips, its black button nose sniffed the air. A moment, marinated with magic, started between them; werewolf and rookie human hunter high schooler.

 It all clicked—

Answers to questions he didn’t ask for.

A rolling in his gut that usually signaled a long trip to the bathroom; guess some people would mistake them for butterflies.


Insane desire, which didn’t settle well with him with the whole fury, big teeth, big claws, paws, and tail and Katsuki didn’t want to imagine the sex between him and wolfed out were baddie.

He didn’t get the opportunity to panic that he might be a furry, because the Wendigo was gathering its long limbs off the ground. It threw its head back with an ear-numbing shriek.

The werewolf paced in front of Katsuki on all fours, where the Wendigo’s ravenous eyes watched him feverishly, then rose on its hind legs, back curved but still a menacing stature. The wolf peeled its lips back and bared its teeth in a black snarl. Neither would back down; the Wendigo driven by its ingrained need to feed off human and the werewolf…hell if he had any idea why Clifford decided to face off a Wendigo. Soulmates or bondmates, whatever, they’re strangers at the end of it; and while werewolves were durable, tough bunch , a Wendigo could make a meal of them too.

Denki blinked, touching the back of his head as he sat up. “Oh….So there’s a werewolf here too. I guess that’s cool or I’m dead. Am I dead, are we dead, is this hell?”

Katsuki didn’t move his lips as he said, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

The Wendigo made for a bullcharge but it faked it out at the last second and paced restlessly.

The werewolf rose to its hind legs, standing tall, and puffed its chest out. It dropped back down to all fours and followed the Wendigo with its eyes. It licked its canines with a bone-deep rumble.

A twig cracked under Katsuki’s palm as he tried to crawl from the fight. Both monsters whipped their head back and the werewolf turned to him and closed it jaws over his shin, and dragged Katsuki back. But there wasn’t any nick of pain, only the pressure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Katsuki shouted, dirt, twigs and dried leaves riding up the back of his shirt as the werewolf positioned him protectively underneath its body.

The werewolf snapped its teeth at Katsuki once it released him, almost as if it was scolding him for running off.

Shit, it was—it was protecting him. Katsuki landed himself a werewolf bodyguard, what the—

The werewolf yelped, whimpering in pain as the Wendigo gnawed on the nape of its neck. It wrapped its arms around the werewolf’s ribcage to keep it from fighting back. Blood darkened the white of its fur. The werewolf tried to turn its head to bite the Wendigo but the angle wouldn’t allow for it.

Denki helped Eijirou up, patting his cheeks to rouse him back to waking. “Katsuki,” he hissed. “Let’s go.”

Eijirou’s head lolled onto Denki’s shoulder. “Oh. A werewolf.”

He gritted his teeth, every gut-wrenching, heart-tugging whimper of pain brought up an incredible fury in him. He looked back at the guys, then the werewolf.  Back and forth; back and forth; the wolf cried again, the horrible sound caused him to flinch.

Katsuki bolted, skidding his knees over the forest floor to grab the handle of the machete, and ran back with his heart thundering so profoundly like it housed itself within his eardrums.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Denki shouted. “Dude, we have to run!”

Katsuki moved to the Wendigo’s blind spot and jammed the machete under the hollow of its ribcage. That got the monster to break its grapple and swipe out aggressively. Katsuki fell on his ass, dodging the slice of black claws just an inch from where his face had been. He saved the wolf but uh…The Wendigo stalked toward him.

Yea, that. He made his ass the turkey once again, and his one weapon was lodged deep in the monster. Fat good it was doing in there.

Blood and saliva rolled off its yellow teeth, and painted the dirt on impact. The intense stench of rot overwhelmed his sense of smell again. But then the Wendigo was being wrenched away, screaming and clawing its nails through the dirt. The werewolf wrenched its skull side to side, growling, then started to drag the Wendigo again. It released its leg and walked up its prone body and sank its teeth into the Wendigo’s shoulder.

The Wendigo wailed.

A crunch sounded as the werewolf clenched down on its wiggling body.

Blue eyes snapped to Katsuki.

Eijirou and Denki ran and each put an arm under Katsuki’s armpit and hefted him to his feet. “Okay, we’re going now.”








Katsuki missed the ignition slot twice with his key but managed it on the third try. The Jeep rumbled to life, headlights beaming through the woods as Katsuki shifted it into reserve and gunned it back. He jerked the wheel, and put it into drive and screeched skid marks in the parking lot. The shocks creaked when he peeled out the lot and onto the road without easing off the pedal.

 “Oh my god, monsters are real,” panted Denki. “Big Foot is real. I take back all those jokes I made BF. Oh my god.”

Eijirou glanced at him when he slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road. “Katsuki?”

“My soulmate is a fucking werewolf,” he said out loud, hoping it might make him feel less like a bottle rocket if he let the words outside his body.

It didn’t, he started to shiver.

“Okay…I hear you loud and clear, buddy, but maybe have your existential crisis at the house where the Wendigo can’t have a three for one deal.”

“Right,” he said, occupied with being shell-shocked.

“Katsuki, man, I love you but please drive right now.”

“Okay. Yea.”

Chapter Text

He was in his bed when he heard the heavy noise of wet pants. He opened his eyes and narrowed them at the crouched shadow in his bedroom. He rolled over and hit the lamp on his nightstand and saw the werewolf, mouth, and throat drenched in the Wendigo’s blood.

Its hunkering half human, half wolf shape padded nosily over the wooden floorboards. Instead of reaching for the 9mm under his pillow, loaded with silver bullets, Katsuki flipped back the blankets. The werewolf placed its skull on his lap.

Katsuki touched the wet blood on its muzzle.

The werewolf lifted its head and looked into his eyes, then ripped off his shirt.

Katsuki shifted back on the bed to make room for the werewolf. The entire bed squeaked as the werewolf clawed on top of him.

“Fucking insane,” Katsuki said, inching his pants off. “This is insane. I’m going to fuck a werewolf. You better be hot, asshole, alright. Fucking better be ready for this shitshow.”

The werewolf dragged its tongue up his stomach.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna burn in hell, fuck—that’s, fuck, fuck. Shit.”—

Katsuki jolted upright and hit the lights.


Oh, praise the fucking lord.

Sweet Jesus, he was already having sex dreams. Not even a week and Katsuki started vivid sexual encounters with a fully wolfed out werewolf, fur and blood included.

So he met his soulmate, bloodied, failing horribly, with his weapon out of reach and on his ass. It was a gross feeling, the uproar in your clenching gut at the crest of a steep  dip on a rollercoaster, because enter in random here, who he had no inkling of a name or a fucking human face, but his brain already started on phrase four—fucking, he was fucking thinking about fucking a fucking werewolf… Which he really didn’t need, personally. Might be just crazy old Katsuki but he liked a world when he didn’t have this insane, inherent, defying biology and—what was that thing people had, oh,— free fucking will desire to take a werewolf to the back of his compact Jeep and rock the suspensions.

But that was the world of yesterday and the world of current and future days to come would be this new reality.

Didn’t mean Katsuki had to fucking like that shit.










“Rough night, Baku?” Minoru jeered, snickering when Katsuki twisted in the wrong combination for his locker.

Katsuki whispered under his breath, getting it right on the fifth attempt. Metal whined, Katsuki shoved his books from history and grabbed his calculus textbook. “Why can’t the fucking Wendigo eat him, huh? Its eats everyone but annoying fuckers like him or Inasa or Shindo or—”

“Evil thoughts,” Eijirou chided as he waited. “Has Aizawa called?”


“Have you called him?”

Katsuki inhaled deeply. “No. He said to call for emergencies only.”

“…Um,” Eijirou waited for a few students to pass by them in the hallway, and whispered. “I think a Wendigo and a werewolf soulmate counts as an emergency.”

Katsuki hissed like a ticked tomcat. “Can you like not fucking mention the werewolf?”

“Do you feel like mushy and stuff now,” Eijirou prodded, either for a preserve enjoyment as Katsuki’s skin crawled or in legitimate concern for him. “That’s what happens with soulmates right. You get mushy and gooey like roasted marshmallows.”

Or like horny and very, very confused about your sexuality. Katsuki didn’t want the answer to the question, did wanting to bang a werewolf make him a furry.

“Well I don’t feel fucking normal that’s for sure.”

“Why, what’s happening? We should tell the nurse.”

“What the fuck. No way, “ he refused. Hell to the no. “No way, man.”

“Dude the last person I knew who got a soulmate got all sick and weird and maybe we should to be safe if you’re not gonna call Aizawa.”

“If I call him and tell him I tried and fucked up on killing a Wendigo, then my ass is on the endangered list. He’ll fucking ground my ass and then he’ll never train me again. Besides, it’ll freak him out. I don’t need his ass to fucking die on a case because I’m having sex dreams…” He paused and closed his eyes. .”Eijirou, sometimes I hate you.”

“Wow, just outed yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know you gotta but what am I?”

“Point is—“

Eijirou pestered. “So, in the dream is it a werewolf—“

“Point. Is,” he stressed. “We do the Wendigo in and Aizawa can’t get mad. He’ll be impressed.”

“No. No. He’ll be mad especially since you lost two of his guns.”

He punched the locker next to him and startled the freshmen tinkering with his lock. “Fuck!”

“You forgot?”

“Yes! Fucking trying not to die last night, do you remember, Sleeping Beauty?”

“I was choked out by a monster, excuse me, werewolf humper.”

“Yea,” Katsuki barked, then lost steam to the engine powering his ire. “Yea, well, be better next time, idiot.”

“Guys, guys, guys,” Denki said, the soles of his shoes sounded like nails on a chalkboard as they skidded across the linoleum floor.

“Oh great,” Katsuki closed his locker, and clipped the lock, and walked fast to distance himself.

“Hey, hey. Wait up!” Denki matched their stride in the hall, face red from the physical activity.  No one broke the wall of silence. “So,” Denki decided to break it; it wasn’t a whole sentence and Katsuki already knew he wanted to push Denki into a locker. “Gonna toss it out there, did we all go hunting for a Wendigo, find it, then nearly die until your soulmate saved our asses?”

“He’s not my anything,” he bit out, much like a dog or a—nope, no parallels to his werewolf soulmate.

“Didn’t like your soul dicks touch or something? You’re the one who said he was. No one brought it up.”

“He’s having sex dreams,” Eijirou elaborated.  

“You are so fucking dead, Eijirou. So god damn dead. They’re making your tombstone right now.”

Denki’s face pinched in disgust. “…With the werewolf, looking like a werewolf? So like a dog? Ew.”

“You’re fucking ew.”

“But to clarify, that did happen then? ”

Katsuki re-shouldered his bag, and yanked the door open, walking into the classroom. “Piss off.”

“You’re like—that means everything is true. Zombies, witches, the Jersey Devil, vampires, Ronald McDonald. The truth is out there and we need to find it.”

Katsuki dumped his bag on the floor. “We? You were screaming, dumbass.”

“I was surprised, there’s a big difference.”

“Good evening class, I’m Ken, your substitute teacher for the day while Mr. Greenberg recovers from the flu,” Ken greeted, then started to read off the attendance sheet and for five minutes there was the monotone call of a student, the rise of a hand, and the mumble of ‘present’, ‘here’, ‘no, this is Patrick’.

 Once he finished with attendance, Ken set the clipboard aside, pulled the shades down, and flicked the lights. To which the students brightened in turn. There had never been a sub who taught the lecture for the teacher they were subbing for and let the hour pass with a wholesome, ‘fun for the whole family’ PG-13 movie. Yamada, an actual teacher at their high school and occasional sub for their social science class, liked to pop in a film the day after a hefty exam. So far they finished  ‘Breakfast Club’, ‘Pretty in Pink’, ‘Shrek’, ‘Ninja Turtles’, the first Power Rangers movie, and ‘Batman & Robin’.

 Any hope for a work-free class obliterated as Ken carted the projector in front of the dusty chalkboard.

Ken adjusted his glasses and read the paperwork left over by Mr. Greenbarg. “According to Mr. Greenberg’s syllabus, you guys are starting on…”

“I freaking hate my life. I get my ass beat by a Wendigo and then I have to deal with math,” complained Denki, who hung his head over the back of his chair.

Eijirou smiled, looking gay and in love with the buffoon.

Katsuki cracked open a yellowed page novel on lycanthropy, placing it on his lap so he could pretend to be reading over their upgraded high school textbook, while remembering the wolf in the woods, the unearthly blue of its eyes, its muscled body, the sight of the Wendigo’s black blood slicked over its long canine.

And uh, that…god, the dream too, okay? You go get a werewolf soulmate and have a weird sex dream and try being okay after the fact.

Eijirou and Denki traded a piece of paper, playing Tick-Tag-Toe.

Minoru drew boobs and curvy ladies in the margins of his notebook. Then of himself with a massive dick and a harem of big boob girls begging for his cock.

Hanta’s eyes drifted close, sneaking in a nap.

Camie’s brown eyes held in Katsuki’s profile, studying him without his knowledge.

Kyouka tucked her headphones under her hoody and wrapped the cord over the back of her ear and messed with her hair until it curtained over the cord.  She pressed play on her Walkman and stared sightlessly as Ken went into further detail and drew over the diagram with an erasable marker.

 Dylan grabbed a paperclip, a rubber band, and a pencil and created a poor person’s slingshot.










He should be in the lunchroom for his sixth-period class. Off-campus lunch was a luxury given to students in good academic standing and with a stellar attendance record. Katsuki managed his grades fine, something that interrupted people’s preconceived idea of him as they figured the leather jacket, the smokes in his inner pocket, the black rugged Jeep meant Katsuki was a troublemaker and an idiot. They were half right; he made trouble often but rarely got anything less than a B. Now his attendance was another matter. See, he just didn’t feel like going sometimes and Aizawa was rarely around to enforce a punishment to keep him from doing that.

So…yea. Katsuki had off-campus lunch.

It was fine.

The security guards constantly overlooked students and read their unsanctioned copy of Playboy. So Katsuki had slipped out the side door by the music room and messed around in his Jeep, letting the catchy musical notes of Duran Duran ease him to a meditative state.


I howl and I whine I'm after you

Mouth is alive all running inside

And I'm hungry like the wolf


He leaned over the driver seat, jiggling the cigarette lighter connected below the dials for his heat and AC. Damn thing got stuck half the time.

“Hi,” said a voice out of the blue.

Katsuki rammed his head into the roof of his car and fell forward into the seat. “Son of a bitch,” he groaned, collecting his sprawled body off the seat. “Hey, asshole, don’t fucking sneak up on me.” He barked, fixing his jacket as he straightened.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying.”

“…Okay,” he stared at the guy—eyes green as U.A.’s football field, the careless scatter of freckles like someone dragged the flat of their thumb over a wet brush, slim in body, sweet looking in his face like he would pay for your lunch if you forgot your cash at home—he didn’t recognize him from anywhere but something responded back in him.  Katsuki scratched his chest. “You gonna fucking watch me or you gonna open your mouth?”

“I’m sorry. I’m Izuku Midoriya,” said Izuku Midoriya, which didn’t answer the question of who the fuck was Izuku Midoriya to Katsuki Bakugou. But there was a hand; Katsuki crossed his arms.

Sorry but no, he would not be shaking hands with random ass dudes who snuck up on him.

“Good for you.”

“We met,” he said, dropping the hand.

He snorted. “No.”


“Dude, I ain’t never seen your damn face.”

Izuku ran his hand through his thick hair and looked around the parking lot. Raw pink lines started around the sides of his neck and continued to the back. “Well, you ran away so I couldn’t shift back.”

”Come the fuck again.”

“I was in the woods with you. The big werewolf. That’s me. We’re kinda mates I think, I hope, maybe I misread that. I don’t know you’re not really giving me a lot to go off of .” He gestured helplessly.

A werewolf…there was a living, breathing, rapidly talking werewolf in his high school’s parking lot. Katsuki did the first impulsive thought that came to mind and reached for the pure silver pocket knife.

Izuku grabbed his wrist; the power in his grip contrasted with his soft curls. Like a rattlesnake tucked in a blanket. Just like a fluffed out dog; soft to look at but layered with dense strength underneath.  Katsuki had enough knowledge from TV programs and books to be aware werewolves were a powerhouse not to be fucked with. Soulmate or whatever, Katsuki hated being in the inferior position. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Izuku assured.

How the fuck did he counter him so fast?

“I can smell the silver,” he said, reading the question on Katsuki’s shell-shocked face. His fingers loosened gradually. “I’ll let go but please don’t stab me. I come in peace.”

Katsuki checked the skin for bruising or redness and felt inexplicably pissed when there wasn’t any. It stopped him cold in his tracks and yet judging off the lack of marking, it was a damn ounce of Izuku’s strength. “You stalked me.”

“Uh. I guess? I just wanted to check on you. And talk. And…I dunno…you’re just…I have to see you or something,” he said. The sudden blue in his eyes trapped Katsuki into unbreakable silence. “You’re mine. You’re pack.”

“Whoa,” he said; said unbreakable silence becoming rapidly breakable with the brash claim and the warm rise of content going up his spine like a fast-acting virus.  “What the fuck, I don’t belong to you dickhead.”

“No, I meant–you’re—we’re—not like that, I swear! I mean, yes, like that. Just not that that, you get me? Gosh I’m so sorry. I am by no needs declaring anything and I respect your opinion and everything. It’s a wolf thing. I just gotta check on you.”

“You checked. Now dip, dude. Wait, you know what, I got a few questions for you, buddy. The fuck you doing in the woods?”


“Just walking, huh? Sounds like a horseshit.”

Katsuki’s eyes got hooked on Izuku’s lips when he chewed indecisively on it. He brushed it off, and reminded himself what those teeth looked like in a Wendigo. “It’s a werewolf thing. I was leaving my scent around.”


He winced. “Not that I don’t trust you but you did pull a knife on me even though I did save your life last night.”

Oh, oh, oh, this scumbag. So he did have a point, but Katsuki had a point not to like his point so fuck his point. He wasn’t the werewolf in this equation. He didn’t have a fleshed out history in novels, folklore, and TV typecasting him as a steroid raging wolfman. “So what, like burying your dog bones? Taking a shit? Eating people?”

Izuku laughed. “I don’t eat people, I promise.”


“Werewolves don’t work the way you think.”

“And how do they work?”


“So you are hiding something,” he accused.

“I’m not hiding anything. I swear I was out there to leave my scent. But I caught the Wendigo’s and it musta got mine because it scattered and left that deer.”

“Wait, so it actually fed on it?” His haphazard guess was right. Aizawa didn’t have it down in his personal notes about the whole dietary of a Wendigo other than it ate human flesh and the books in his collection offered the same answers with less solid evidence and more superstition.

“Yea. Wendigos can eat anything as long as it raw and meaty. The preference is human flesh but not the rule,” he said. “Then I heard screaming. Wendigos are trouble for even werewolves but if people were in danger I wasn’t gonna run home so I came.”

“Did you kill it?”

“No. I was losing a lot of blood.”

The memory of the werewolf’s—Izuku’s whimpers of pain turned his stomach inside out. “You suck as a monster.”

Izuku smiled ruefully, “I guess I do.”

“How the fuck ain’t you dead?

He showed Katsuki his back and corralled the hair at his nape and lifted. Vicious saber tooth thick teethmarks slashed over his freckled skin. Had Izuku been human that bite would’ve done him in. It was starting to be a balancing act in his head, annoyance and anger directed at Izuku then annoyance and anger recalibrated at the Wendigo for fucking up this asshole werewolf.

“Perks of being a werewolf.” His hair flopped down over the nasty scars. Izuku turned back and stuffed his hands into his jeans, shoulders hunched in. “Should be gone in a few days though so yea.”

“Well it better enjoy its few days of life,” Katsuki said offhandedly, a promise and a warning and maybe some form of protectiveness because those scars kind of sat in his brain for seconds longer than he even seen them.

“You’re not going to hunt it down, are you?”

“No shit.”

“Don’t,” he said, the order half animal and half man, sounding full of sharp teeth. The wolf simmered under the surface suddenly, the soft lines of Izuku’s face sharpened.

And several emotions passed through Katsuki; first, desire, again but at least it was toward human Izuku and not werewolf Izuku with blood and fur and claws. Two, annoyance once again at these invading emotions flooding every facet of his mind. And three, did this asshole think he could boss Katsuki around because they were mates and he had the punching power of a muscled out wolf?

“Did you growl at me?” The intensity in Izuku’s face diminished, replaced with guilt. “Fido, we might be soul dick buddies or whatever, but I will smack the ever loving shit outta you with a newspaper if you try telling my ass what to do.”

Izuku’s nose wiggled in frustration. “Well, you didn’t do so well—“

“I—“ He cut himself off. Technically, they survived by the skin of their teeth and that wouldn’t have happened without Izuku swooping in. “Like you did better,” he shouted, not willing to release his outrage just yet. “What’s your excuse, werewolf?”

“You’re literally impossible,” he sighed like Katsuki was immature when he had just growled at him like an untrained dog seconds ago.

“Katsuki,” someone hooted. “Yo!”

Izuku, the werewolf, and Katsuki, the inexperienced hunter with more failures than successes under his belt, snapped their heated gazes across the lot.

Shindo veered off the sidewalk, spotting Katsuki as he walked back to campus from his off-campus lunch; his friends, the school’s so-called ‘hot kids’ waited by the bushes and laughed to one another. Camie blew a pink bubble, popped it, and chewed it back inside her mouth. Her friends started off another conversation, Camie kept popping her gum, and watched.

Shindo was out of breath when he pulled up to his Jeep, throwing his arm to prop coolly on the door. “Hey Katsuki,” he engaged his trademark smolder and lifted his full lips into a lazy smirk, ready to flirt Katsuki’s ass off but then he felt Izuku’s pointed stare.”—oh whoops, man, sorry to cut in like that. You mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Izuku said, sounding an awful lot like he minded very much.

Shindo went back to it, carding back his dark bangs. They dropped back over his black eyes. Objectively it was a sexy move. Shindo was a sexy dude, but his personality rubbed Katsuki something so fierce from the start that any blooming of attraction between them perished before it began. “So…Katsuki, Inasa’s throwing a party.”


“Like, it would be cool if we went together. You and me. Me and you. Us. Party. Drinks.”

Izuku growled, moss green eyes flashed to steel blue, the wolf lurked under his skin.

Shindo and Katsuki both gave him the eye and the sound shriveled inside his chest. Izuku dipped his head in shame, with his shoulders hunched in as if trying to make himself small enough to be nonexistent. Katsuki couldn’t part the image of a chastised puppy from his mind; Izuku was one massive puppy caught peeing in the house.

Shindo must have given Izuku’s presence so little thought because the jarring switch from green to blue and back didn’t come up. “Dude, did you growl at me?”

Izuku panicked; which it would be his luck to wound up with the one werewolf with zero social grace, but put this guy with a Wendigo and there was no problem. “Uh, no it’s a—a…”

“Cough,” Katsuki explained. “He’s sick.”

“Yea! That. Whoo, the weather, huh?”

“Oh, but yea man. Gonna be cool and everything. We’ll have beer. My brother’s buying us a ton.”

Katsuki saw Izuku leaning forward to Shindo’s back and sniff—he—he was actually sniffing Shindo like a dog.

Katsuki clicked his tongue.

Izuku’s nose wiggled as he continued to sniff Shindo like it was a normal thing to do.

“Dude,” Shindo touched the back of his neck. “Are you sniffing me?”

“Uh,” Izuku mumbled. “Yea—I—Wow. That’s uh, a very nice cologne you have on. Is it Old Spice? I love it. So…so fresh and earthy and like the woods.”

Katsuki was going to murder this werewolf.

“Nah. But I used my dad’s Irish Spring soap. Maybe it’s that.”

Izuku agreed. “I think you’re right.” Christ, dude, shut up; shut up, shut up.

Shindo fully checked out Izuku. “What’s your name again?”


“Nice, I’m Shindo. You should come too, man, you’re like hot too.”

“I’m hot?”

Katsuki said, “I can’t go. I have plans.”

“Damn, really. That’s too bad….Well if things don’t’ fall through, come around. You’re still invited, Izuku.”

“He can’t go either,” Katsuki added.

“Oh, so you guys?” Shindo pointed then made a circle with his finger and thumb and jammed his finger repeatedly in it.


“Well,” Izuku started.

Katsuki jabbed his elbow into his stomach and masked the shock he felt when he collided with a hard, solid wall of pure muscle. He sneered, cursing Izuku to the moon and back. How dare he have fucking abs of steel and rosy cheeks and freckles and eyes made of grass?

“We’re not even friends, okay? He’s some dude.”

“So I could possibly fuck either of you then?”

The bell wailed.

Shindo’s friends whistled. “Dude, we gotta go. Mr. Kan’s gonna kill us if we’re late to gym again.”

He called back. “Alright. I’m coming. Okay, you guys should try coming though if you change your mind. The address is West Maple 3423. House with the garden gnome in front. See you, Izuku.”

“Fuck, I have to go. If I blow his class off again, he’s gonna give me detention.” Katsuki slammed the door and locked the Jeep.

Izuku followed.

“No. You go home or where ever you live.”


“Look, you helped my ass, thanks or whatever but that’s it. I got my own shit and you have yours. Let’s leave it be.”









 Thirty some teenagers filled the polished floorboards with laughter, chatter, and squeaky gym shoes. Mr. Kan blew on the whistle at Katsuki, Denki, and Eijiro who idled against the bleachers.

“No sitting, ladies. If you ain’t gonna play then you gonna run. Go, soldiers, go!”

They groaned and fell into line with the other students running the length of the gym.

Minoru panted. “I hate this class. We don’t even have swimming anymore or sex ed so what’s the point? I’m not gonna get abs and I won’t see any sexy ladies in bathing suits.”

Kyouka said. “Shut. Up. Minoru.”

“You’re just cranky you missed out on tickets to Green Day.”

“You’re pissed you that miss out on losing your virginity every day.”

Hanta slowed down to laugh. “Burn!”

“Apply ointment to burned areas,” Denki advised. “Keep under cold water.”

“I can lose my virginity whenever I want. I’m saving it for Ms. Jackson. You losers might bang any chick who glances at you but I want only the best for my dick and she’s it. Big boobs, thick thighs, ass like a hurricane.”

Hanta said. “She’s out teacher, dude, and she’s married.”

“The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest one.”

Katsuki grumbled. “Do we need a fucking commentary to go with this run? Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Minoru traded.

“I will run my ass back there and deck your fucking halls, Minoru,” he threatened.

“Like I’m scared of you, weirdo!”

“The hell you say about me?”

Mr. Kan jogged alongside them in his white khaki shorts and white polo top and his knee-high tube socks. The chrome whistle dangled on a string around his neck and bounced off his defined chest with the movement. “You lot call this running?” He yelled.  “My grand can run faster than y’all and she’s six feet in the ground. Minoru move your legs like this, boy. Like this.”

He demonstrated, lifting his knees high.

Minoru attempted it, seeing as he had no other option unless he wanted Mr. Kan to follow him around the whole 45 minutes of class, and tripped. Mr. Kan went off on the whistle over Minoru’s exhausted body, clapping to rouse his spirits. “Up, up, Minoru.”

Minoru gasped like an animal on its last legs and ran again.

Denki laughed.

“Something funny, boy?” Mr. Kan narrowed his small eyes on the blonde. “Because your form is an embarrassment too. Look at Katsuki, look at his form. A fine body there.” He patted Katsuki on the butt.

Eijirou and Katsuki shared a horrified look.

“And Eijirou!” Another healthy, sportsmanship butt slap struck over Eijirou’s rear. “Mighty strapping young boys. Be more like them,” he said then sprinted across the gym when he saw a few boys stuffing their shirts with volleyballs to make boobs.

Kyouka asked. “Did—is he like into guys or something? That was…”

“Don’t,” Katsuki growled. “Just shut up. No one mention this ever again.”

Denki gained some speed to reach Katsuki and weakly smacked his shoulder. “Slow down.”

“What now?”

“I heard Shindo invited you to the Crème Brulee of house parties and you said no. Do you have any idea  the gift you were offered?”

Minoru hacked an incredulous laugh, overhearing them and thinking his opinion mattered at all to Katsuki. “You got invited to Inasa’s party, haha. Only the hottest booties in this town go to Inasa’s place. Camie, Mei, Sirius—my little, blue flower—, the delicious Toru, Itsuka. It’s like the Bay Watch of high school. There’s no way they want you there.”

“How the fuck do you know this?”

“Well, Kim saw you in the parking lot with him and some other guy and said Shindo was making ‘I wanna fuck you’ eyes at you and that the other guy was super jealous and that it was weird you said no to Shindo to go out with that other guy.”

“I said no because I don’t care about that shit and Shindo only wants my dick because I’m the one guy not in love with his fake ass.”

“Yea, it’s kinda odd,” commented Eijirou. Sweat beaded around his hairline.  “Shindo is so dreamy.”

“He ain’t legit about shit. And he’s all about his looks.”

“Katsuki,” Denki said. “This is why you have no friends.”


“Not good, you need to expand your social circle.”


“C’mon, dude, we should all go.”

Katsuki pulled off to the side once he saw Mr. Kan occupied with coaching Shindo and the guys on the lacrosse team about the coming game this month, and let the group pass him up.

 He lifted the hem of his gym uniform and mopped the gloss of sweat on his face. “I’m going to hunt the Wendigo. Remember that?”

Strands of sweat-drenched blond hair pasted to Denki’s forehead and cheeks. “I mean your soulmate, werewolf, boyfriend, guy fucked it up, right? It ain’t gonna be outside.”

“Izuku isn’t my boyfriend, okay?” He insisted heatedly.  “Just because we’re soulmates or whatever don’t mean I have to marry the guy or suck his dick.”

Not that the thought came up or anything but people were assuming quickly that him and Izuku did the nasty or were about to do the nasty or wanted the nasty with each other. Izuku could keep his nasty away from Katsuki’s nasty, alright. He was too busy to be doing the nasty.

Eijirou and Denki did a double take to each other. “Who the hell is Izuku—you met him?! Dude, when, holy shit there was a real live werewolf at our high school. Like I don’t know if I should be stoked or piss myself.”

“What’s even the protocol for soulmates?” Eijirou wondered aloud, which he shouldn’t because it wasn’t relative to Katsuki’s life.

“Oh my fucking god, I’ll go to the stupid party if you shut up about him.”






Chapter Text





“Hey ladies,” Denki purred the minute Hunter, one of the members of U.A.’s lacrosse, opened the door and let them inside, too drunk to care about how they had heard about the party.

On the boom box was Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack and on every surface not being used as an impromptu bed for tonsil swapping was a red, sticky, sometimes puke filled Solo cup. Against the entrance hall, next to the coat closet, was a couple making good use of the end table. One guy stumbled drunkenly and touched Katsuki on the chest to stabilize himself. His hand felt wet on his shirt. The guy walked off, reeking of vomit and the worst hangover in the history of epic hangovers.

Katsuki told himself repeatedly that decking someone would be the quickest route to a night in jail. “I can tell already that this was a stupid ass idea.”

“Give it a few minutes,” said Eijirou, who was stupidly hopeful.

Tomoko cocked her head, appearing in a blue strapless dress. “Who invited you?”

“Shindo,” Denki answered, trying not to check out her breasts filling out her dress.


“Yea, we’re like tight and shit,” he bloated the lie. “Super tight, look there he is,” he pointed out the wild, finger teased head of black hair in the crowd of drunk so-to-be young adults at the end of graduation.

Shindo commanded the granite island, kicking his legs idly in blue jeans with holes on the knees. Girls watched him dreamily like they were under a trance and sighed in adoration and lust whenever he pushed his fingers through his hair, the action making him a thousand times more attractive.

Trying to convince her that he was one of the cool people, Denki whistled for Shindo’s attention and Katsuki slipped behind the stairway before Denki gained it, and jutted his chin in greeting. “Hey, Shindo, what up pimp.”

Shindo waved cautiously, confusion was written in the furrow of his brows, then went back to the group of chicks.

Tomoko reapplied her lip gloss. “Looks like he doesn’t know you.”

“What, nah, he does. He’s just being Shindo and everything. You notice how me and Shindo could pass for twins?”

“Oh, Katsuki,” said Camie, in low riding jeans, and shirt cut to showcase her midriff and her pierced bellybutton. “You came.”

He shrugged; Camie’s abrupt interest in him sent Katsuki through a loop. Far as he remembered Camie talked to him five times this year and four out of five was asking for weed or a lighter to smoke her weed, or the page for their homework. “Yea, for some stupid reason that I’m fucking regretting.”

She  looped her arm through his, and clung bodily where he could feel the flat plane of her stomach and the roundness of her chest. “That’s hot. We have beer, you like, wanna have some, dude.”

Eijirou seemed uncomfortable, scratching his scalp and watching the room being navigated poorly by drunk people. “We shouldn’t really drink. It’s pretty unmanly to break the law and drink. Like what if the cops show up and arrest us. We’ll go to jail. It’ll stay on our record.”

“I’ll take a beer,” Katsuki said. Might as well indulge in a few for the trouble of driving here and enduring the loud music and piss smelling house.

“But it’s against the law,” Eijirou reminded him

“So is downloading music off of Limewire.”

“Narly, man,” Camie said, dragging Katsuki. “Right this way.”

Naturally Denki and Eijirou tailed them like pups. “Right on. We’re with you.”

“Oh I meant Katsuki but I guess you guys are fly too.”

“I’m the definition of fly. Ever hear that song ‘Pretty Fly for a White Guy’, well that’s me. I’m that white guy. So fly.”

Katsuki kicked his leg. “Stop saying ‘fly’.”





Katsuki sat on the swing set on the concrete. There was a built-in pool with lights on the sides and the bottom and it illuminated the chlorine water to a bright, candy blue. The color resonated. Izuku, no shit, with his blue eyes and hulking wolf body.  As much as he would like it, he couldn’t purge him completely from his mind.

Most of the partyers danced on the other side of the glass door—dancing, grinding, sleeping, puking; Shindo rigged up beer pong in the bathroom and Denki made it his mission to defeat the entire lacrosse team, Eijirou accompanied him for moral support and to keep him from getting too shitfaced. A few seniors, mostly couples, loitered in the yard, feet dipped in candy blue water and beer breath kisses smacking wetly in the quiet of  ten p.m. One guy tried to sneak his hand up his girlfriend’s skirt but she smacked his hand, eyes pointed in Katsuki’s direction and word muttered under her breath about having one of the school’s weirdo seeing her vag or something.

He moved his foot off the ground and let the momentum rock him back and forth. Moon was out tonight too; crescent, like a giant mistaken the yellow disc for cheese and bit into it.

The book on lycanthropes was shit—spiels, half-assed tales, misinformation. Why Aizawa bothered with half the books lining his miniature lilbrary when they were more fiction than fact; maybe they were there at the start or something. If you wanted the 4-1-1 on Aizawa’s history or the family line of hunters, then you could line up after Katsuki because he was just as clueless and had been waiting even longer.

He was a hush, hush guy about a lot of things. Close to the chest, you know. More secret passages, fake hallways, dead ends than a Scooby-Doo haunted house. Didn’t even go in about the family business until Katsuki put his nose in enough shit and put the pieces himself and demanded he cough up some answers.

People in this town were wary of him and his secrets and by proxy they felt the same about Katsuki when he showed up on Aizawa’s doorstep at six with a Ninja Turtles book bag, one of the lions that formed a robot, and Mickey Mouse Band-Aids over the double puncture mark on his neck, head with nothing of his childhood but a lady with golden hair and copper eyes.

The momentum slowed; Katsuki was stationary once more and glaring at the blue pool.

The couple  pulled their feet from the pool and padded wet footprints to the glass door. Without checking to confirm, Katsuki knew their eyes passed over him with caution. Music—Crazy In Love— hit his ear with the whooshing of the door, then muted back as it closed.

Katsuki swallowed the last dregs of his beer and crushed the plastic cup, chucking it with the others littered on the grass. He would bail if he didn’t think Denki and Eijirou would fall into a ditch leaving the party.

Music boomed again as someone opened the door. The swing creaked when a person dropped in it next to him.

“Hey,” Camie said, and handed Katsuki a red Solo cup.

Fuck it, right?

He tipped it back, wrinkling his nose at the sour taste that assaulted his tongue. Wasn’t any type of vodka or tequila he ever had. No afterburn scorched his throat on the way down. He stared into the cup, and swirled the dark liquid inside.

“Its good shit,” she insisted, sipping on hers. “Shindo’s dad is into very high-class rum.”

He tried it again, and his face clenched up again in revulsion. “It tastes like fucking ass.”

She put her hand under the cup and tipped it to his mouth. “Don’t be square; drink up. It’ll hit you in a bit.”

Katsuki gagged but finished it.

He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth and squinted at the white bottom of the plastic. Dark specks pasted to the bottom. His mouth felt dry and his head heavier than it had ever been before. The cup loosened in his hand, then clanked to the ground, rolling on its side until it stopped at the curb of the pool.

Katsuki tried to say something but all that left him was a silent breath.

Camie watched him, drinking. “Katsuki? Look at me.”

It required a lot of effort but he did. He wanted to ask ‘what’ but his mouth and tongue couldn’t manage the command.

Camie snuggled close, dragging the tip of her small nose up his neck; his body shuddered in response as his mind rebelled, screaming to throw her off.  Wet lips kissed his skin, smearing it with lipstick. “Would you like to ditch this party?”

Katsuki stared at the red Solo cup on the ground, his mind supplied his answer but what came out of his mouth wasn’t from him. “Sure.”

“And you have a car, right, keys?”

He nodded. “Yea.”

“Aizawa’s out of town?” Camie’s voice matured suddenly; an old woman’s cadence. It didn’t fit. Camie had a raspy voice, lower than most girls but she sounded like a chronic smoker then. It wasn’t Camie, he realized with perfect clarity, and he couldn’t command his body to do anything but follow her influence.

“Yea,” his mouth moved on another’s behalf, cause he wouldn’t give anyone a straight answer about Aizawa outside of Eijirou.

He had no way of telling if that displeased her or not. “Hmm. Let’s take a ride.”


She got up. Katsuki followed after, sluggish. “Put your arm around me so people think we’re going to fuck,” she said, then stepped through the house with Katsuki holding her where the side of her hip dipped to the generous swell of her thigh.

Partyers hooted, well versed the language of a one night stand.

“Don’t talk to anyone,” she kissed him on the lips. “Go for the door.”


“Good boy.”






“Park here,” Camie directed.

The tires rolled to a complete stop. Katsuki switched the gears into park and sat numbly in the driver seat with his hands around the wheel.

“Leave it on.”

He did, again without protest or question.

“Step out of the car.”

Katsuki closed the door and faced the wilderness surrounding them on all sides. A canopy of spiraling branches blocked out the moon, allowing thin beams to wedge between the thick foliage.

Camie jutted her hip out. “Where’s Aizawa?”

“On a case.”

She puckered her full lips in deliberation, then popped them apart. “Hmm. Is he your dad?”

“No. Someone dropped me off to him.”

“Do you have a number to get in contact with him?”

“Yea,” Katsuki fished out the flip phone from his pocket. “It’s in my phone.”

Camie flipped the top and clicked her acrylic nails over the plastic buttons, searching through his phone book, then pulled out a second phone to record the number. “Okay.”

“What,” Katsuki spat the word out, fighting the resistance that welded his teeth shut. “The, drink.”

“That’s weird. You shouldn’t be talking on your own. You’re not a witch right?”


She snapped the phone shut, then dumped Katuski’s in her purse. “Hmm. Well, to your question, the drink wasn’t whiskey that’s for sure. A spell of influence, to be technical. Had a witch cook it up. Just had to marinate it with my hair and let it brew for a week. “


Her expression hardened in fury. “What the hell; did she give me a shit batch? How are—you know what. It doesn’t matter.”

“What the fuck are you?”

Camie shifted into another person—a man, 6’4, with russet skin, exotic jawline and nose, and hazel eyes. “For someone with a daddy in the biz, you know squat about monsters.”

“You fucking—“

The man punched Katsuki and sent him slamming into the side of the Jeep and stumbling to his knees. “Benefits of a skinwalker. Whoever I eat, I get the rewards, this guy here.” He clapped his gut. “Werewolf.”

He squeezed Katsuki around his throat and hefted him up into the air. “Ain’t about you, kid, but your temp daddy’s got a lot of enemies and I’ve been waiting years to get even with him. So, believe me when I say it’s just the business, kid.”

Katsuki clawed savagely to dislodge the grip. His vision distorted, fuzzing out and losing clarity and definite shapes and features. That paled in comparison to the horrifying sensation of being choked.  Unable to regain any air he lost, like a fish tossed on dry land. He gasped and it sounded like some wounded animal on death’s door.

His arms became less frenzied and coordinated, slapping at the skinwalker’s arm with no real strength.

The guy watched, eyes a brilliant yellow. Just like a wolf.

Shit, if there was any time for a stalker werewolf soulmate to show up unannounced it would be now but the woods were empty except for his pitiful gasps for air. Guessed Katsuki ran through his nine lives or something with that Wendigo and the countless other reckless stunts he pulled.

“Don’t worry,” the skinwalker laughed. “I hate separating families.”











Denki shot his arms over his head. The room exploded around him, beer sloshing and spraying people and clothes. Hands clapped his back and pulled him into sweaty, muscly, stinky hugs. Shindo grabbed his face and planted a friendly, wet kiss on his cheek.

“This guy! This guy! I love this guy.”

The other people agreed, and chanted back. “This guy.”

Inasa glared on the other side of the beer pong table.

Neito crossed his arms, and leaned into Inasa’s space, then whispered something in the captain’s ear.

Inasa looked at him then Denki and nodded.

Tomoko closed her fist into Denki’s shirt and yanked him into a sexy kiss with tongue.

Eijirou rolled his eyes and stormed off, trudging up the stairs to the main floor, as the audience flanking the show cheered on, “Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him!”

Jerk, Eijirou thought with a hollow heart and a sour stomach, pushing through the crowd. The lyrics pelting like verbal balls of hail.


Love is just a lie made to make you blue

Love hurts

Ooh love hurts

Ooh, love hurts, ooh


Why did he bother with his stupid crush?

 Denki was clearly into girls and would never see Eijirou in that light. He wasn’t gorgeous like Katsuki—something the guy vehemently denied, but it was so grossly true the moment Eijirou first laid eyes on him in elementary school— nor that smart or that talented. Katsuki was all those things and more.  Eijirou could make people laugh and score three-pointers without a sweat but the pros ended there.

Eijirou sat on the front steps and fought the burning pressure in his eyes.

He should’ve listened to Katsuki. This was a dumb idea. Liking Denki was a dumb idea. Thinking he could be like everyone else was a dumb idea.

He didn’t look up at the sound of shoes scraping over the pathway to Shindo’s house.

They stopped next to him, and air rushed over his neck.

Eijirou flinched back, “What the—“

Round green eyes looked over his face critically, nosing twitching again as he sniffed him. “You know Katsuki, right?”

Eijirou wiped his eyes. “Yea.”

“I need to talk to him, please. Now.”

“I—oh,” Eijirou looked down the line of parked cars. The Jeep was gone. “He left?”

Denki opened the front door. “Eijirou, man, what you doing…out here…Hey you okay?”

Eijirou put his head down.

“Did you make him cry?” Denki challenged, and threw his hands on the guy’s chest, shoving the guy back down the step. “I’ll freaking deck you, man, if you—”

Eijirou tried to calm Denki. “Dude, stop.”

Too intoxicated to listen to reason, Denki chambered up a jab and aimed it for the guy’s sweet face.

The guy caught his fist, an intense blue fire consumed the green of his eyes, “Where’s Katsuki?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Izuku.” He said.

Denki’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit—you’re the—the werewolf!”

Eijirou gripped the sides of his head. “You just tried to punch a werewolf, Jesus, dude!”

Denki stuttered, fist shakily melting into a flat palm. “Holy Santa Maria, uh,” Izuku gave him back his limb. “I would like you to know I love dogs. Dogs are my favorite animal of all time.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Please, it’s serious. I need to see him.”

“Well, that’s cool. Or not cool. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on between you guys so yea. But he’s here.”

Eijirou said. “No. He’s not. The Jeep’s gone.”

He turned, “Gone, what the hell, man. He just ditched us like a scumbag.”

Izuku growled, canines teased past the normal length for the average male and the beds of nails darkened and elongated into claws.

“Whoa, whoa. I mean like he’s great. I love Katsuki. He’s so…so cool like I’ve always idolized him.”

“I smell it,” he said.

“It?” Eijirou asked

“It?” Denki parroted, like an echo.

“The skinwalker. It was here.”

Denki groaned. “Is Katsuki like catnip to monsters or something? This is the third one already and it’s not even the weekend yet.”

Izuku grabbed the bottom of his shirt. “I have to go.”

Denki shielded his eyes when Izuku’s Henley shirt and blue jeans pooled around his ankles and displayed the rather exquisite and startlingly toned physique underneath.  “And I saw a dick. That was a penis. I’ve seen Katsuki’s soulmate’s penis. It’s in my brain.”

“Wow,” Eijirou said, too entranced by the werewolf’s gorgeously freckled body to give him any privacy. What; he was seventeen, lonely, easily aroused, and very, very gay.

“I’ll be back,” Izuku said, toned butt jiggling as he started down the pathway, the bones in his body shifted below the skin like a trapped creature. Something crunched apart. Straight ear parted from his skull. White fur sprouted from every pore. A tail fluffed out at the base of his once human spine.


Denki gaped at the speeding white blur. “Dude, that was the tightest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Should we follow? What if they need our help?”

“Unless you can pull a car out of your ass, I don’t know how we’re gonna keep up with a werewolf.”

He nodded. “That’s true.”

“And we’re pretty buzz too so.” He swung an arm. “Ah, they’ll be fine. It’s Katsuki and now he has his really fit soulmate coming for him. What more backup could he need…you still wanna go, don’t you? Fine. I’ll hotwire Inasa’s Camaro.”

“Dude, no. Do you want to die?”

He strolled over to the idled sleek black Chevy Camaro in the driveway. It was a thing of beauty and envy with it animalistic engine, white leather seat, and chrome shift gear. “Like I’m scared of him. Pfft, I,” he cockily patted his chest. “Fought a Wendigo.”

“We got our asses handed to us, dude, that is not the same.”

He slid his arm through the half rolled down window and wiggled his fingers for the button. “I’m not scared. And you know what, fuck Inasa and his dick brigade too.”

“Hello, Denki,” said Inasa, now currently standing on the front lawn and probably hearing that last bit for certain because he cracked his knuckles.

“Oh, fuck.”








Katsuki opened his palm, aiming for grapple again, but instead what came was a burst of ultra white light and the freedom of escape. He hit the ground, greedily drinking up the oxygen, then pressed his back to the rim of the Jeep and examined his palm.

“The,” he rasped. “Fuck.”

The skinwalker groaned, lifting its face off the ground, “Jesus.” It touched its borrowed face and hissed. “What the hell was that?”

Good question; great one, Katsuki was asking the same thing.

The skinwalker marched over. “Ha, man, there’s no way in hell you’re normal.”

Katsuki leapt to his feet and jumped inside the Jeep and patted his hand blindly around the dimly lit interior for the silver pocket knife.

“I don’t know what you are but it’s gotta be good,” the skinwalker’s deep Caribbean voice grew louder in volume. “You reserved that spell, and that light…You’re gonna be plenty useful to me, kid. So thanks.”

Katsuki stretched his fingers under the passenger seat and something solid and leather made contact with the tip of his index finger.

Claws buried into the meat of his calf and tugged.

Katsuki grunted, his dull nails grabbed the console and fought the resistance even as pain lashed up and down his body. “Fuck!”

The skinwalker snarled and crawled on top of Katsuki. “Alright, kid, no more fucking around.”

Blindly he launched an elbow back, connected it with something as the pressure laid off for a brief second, and it was all he ended to get his fingers around the handle in time to be hauled out the car bodily and thrown on the floor like a ragdoll.

He coughed, air exiting out on impact. “I’m…ha,” he breathed. “Gonna fuck you up, douchebag.”

“Cute,” the skinwalker commented, not threatened, but it was a hard thing to manage a menacing, credible threat when you’re on the ground, struggling to string words with air, and bleeding.

Katsuki was more a demonstrative guy than a verbal one.

Rolling on to his top with a moan of pain, he unclipped the sheath and the blade made a slice of sound parting the leather home. He got up, limping, and closed one fist and brandished the blade in the other. “Let’s go, prick.”

“Fine, you wanna go swinging before you kick it? I can give you that. I knew you would give me trouble unlike the other one.”

“You killed Camie?” He didn’t know—well, didn’t expect a monster to keep someone alive. Why else did the world need hunters if monsters weren’t killing more humans than not?

The skinwalker rolled its wrists. “Again, you know jack about monsters. I need skin, dumbass, to turn. Not a life. But I am going to kill you because, well, you’re trouble. I’ll see how I’m feeling about Camie though. Kinda smart, kinda dumb. Bodies complicate things if I play in an area too long. But you’re so dead, though, so I would be very concern about that and not her.”

“You think people are gonna buy that?”

“They bought Camie. You shouldn’t be that hard. Katsuki Bakugou. Little douche with a chip on his shoulder.  Too much pride, not a lot of sense. Flies off the handle. Your teachers think you’re a bit of a loose cannon. Students don’t wanna get too close with someone like you. Very small social circle. Few close friends,” the skinwalker chuckled. “Yea. I can  fake you in my sleep, kid.”

“Fuck you.”

“What, truth hurts? Listen if you’re gonna swing, then swing. Stop wasting my fucking time. I got people to murder and covers to handle, you get me?”

 Katsuki charged and was immediately slammed back to the ground.

The skinwalker smiled. “Told you. Werewolf. Might be the bootleg version of the real thing but its good enough.”

Okay, okay, now Katsuki was getting pissed off. A Wendigo ass beating, a werewolf soulmate, now getting roofied and about to be skinned and murdered for some shit related to Aizawa that didn’t involve him and he was being tossed around the place like he was a throw pillow.

The skinwalker was fairly overconfident and gloating by this point and Katsuki made no visible effort to get up and fight so the skinwalker was, naturally, surprised to pick up Katsuki and find the blade embedded to the hilt in its chest.

Katsuki found his ass on the floor, but it was from the skinwalker stumbling back in pain. He missed severely with it, no way was it a mortal wound for a monster but it provided the edge for human—sort of human— Katsuki to kick some fucking ass and redeem his pride.

The skinwalker had its chin dipped as it looked at the blade in its chest.

Katsuki ran up with an uppercut and brought that chin up and the skinwalker reclining backward.

“Yea. How you like that shit, asshole? Get up, I’m not fucking done.”

The skinwalker wrenched the blade out. “Silver, you at least know that much. Next time, dumbass, keep your fucking weapon or it can be used against you.” He swiped out, slicing a thin superficial cut across Katsuki’s chest. It sheared his shirt and skin but other than the small beading of blood and the burn of pain, he was fine enough to jog back.

“No more bullshit. I’m done playing with you.”

“Yea, well good luck killing me.”

A echoing howl interrupted the established quiet of the woods and touched off of every rock, off the tranquil lakes, through the whispering branches. Katsuki couldn’t begin to describe the swell of pride and joy and confidence that rose with it.

“Yea,” he jeered with a fat smirk dripping densely with victory. “Hear that shit? That’s fucking trouble for you, bitch. A real werewolf.”

“A werewolf and a hunter? You expect me to believe that, Katsuki? I’ve been around the block, kid, much longer than you.”

“You fucked up. Shoulda got me when I didn’t have a guard dog.”

The skinwalker came again with the knife. Katsuki put his concentration into stopping it from making a new home in his stomach, but not into killing the momentum the skinwalker had taking them both into the bark of an old pine tree.

Katsuki clenched his teeth as they collided but his clammy grip on the handle remained solid.

A white mass bucked the skinwalker off its feet and took its place. And in Katsuki, an equilibrium took residence; balance, again. It was like living in a house with everything moved slightly to the left and Izuku put the furniture back to the right.

Katsuki lifted his head up the straightening form of the werewolf.  Izuku passed a cautious check up with his blue eye, then snarled savagely at the skinwalker as he dropped to all fours. Katsuki picked up the knife, dropped in the skirmish.

“Shitty werewolf,” Katsuki introduced. “Meet the real deal.”

Izuku’s ear flattened against his skull as he ran his tongue repeatedly over his exposed teeth.

The skinwalker growled and shifted into a black werewolf.

The wolves paced, following each other.

“Get me an opening, Izuku,” Katsuki said to the wolf, the silver of the blade rippled a gleam of light as he flipped the handle and got into position. Wouldn’t be too fast or agile for any hand to hand combat, but with Izuku laying the heavy beat down he should manage a solid hit or two to hitch the fight in their favor.

Ha, fucking irony, the hunter banking on the power of a werewolf.

Guessed it was good of him to run in those woods to off that Wendigo or else he’d be fucked to hell, drugged, on the receiving end of ass beating via perk stealing skinwalker.

Jaw snapped. Spit clung to dagger sharp canines. Violence brewed under bodies of muscle, fur, and magic. Both wolves stalked  a length of space; he assumed Izuku preferred to counter to an action rather than start it and the skinwalker had to be telling some truth about having a quarter of a werewolf’s strength or he would be deep in a fight already.

“You gonna fucking puss around?” Katsuki taunted; ignoring the pain in his body. Pretty easy, with his body loading up his veins like a nonstop conveyor belt in a warehouse except there weren’t any boxes, just a solid streamline of adrenaline.

The skinwalker’s yellow eyes trained on him; the hair on its back raised.

Izuku barked to remind him that he was still a threat best not overlooked.

The skinwalker narrowed its eyes.

He hoped Izuku had some background fighting werewolves cause the snarling stand still in the clearing wasn’t so still; and the black fur of the skinwalker blurred, heading, racing, ripping up chunks of dirt for Katsuki. Izuku’s paws were on its back, jaw locked to the back of its neck before he was dragging the skinwalker.

Pained yelps layered the quiet of the forest.

The skinwalker angled its head up, twisting and turning as it tried to bite Izuku. It planted its front paws, black nails burying deep,  then bucked up, throwing itself and Izuku under it. Izuku cried, taking the full impact. He was on his side, panting heavily. The skinwalker recovered faster, walked over Izuku, but Izuku was forgetting his ache then and snapped his jaws from his awkward position on the ground.

The next yelp had Katsuki wincing.

Teeth punctured Izuku’s muzzle.

Katsuki hobbled, tightened his grip around the knife, and hammered it to the handle into the wolf’s back. Thought about doing it again, since dogs supposedly chewed down on shit and didn’t release it and Izuku wasn’t his man by any means but this fucker was nuts if he thought he could kill Izuku on his watch. Before he could wiggle the blood wet handle, the skinwalker reared back, growled, and backhanded Katsuki like a baseball.

He skidded, dirt, twigs, and leaves chafing up the back of his shirt.

The werewolf charged on all fours.

Katsuki looked at his hand, set it up for the wolf, thinking, go go go go. Waiting and waiting for the light show to start any time now. Like any time now. You could do your boom thing when his life was in danger of being ripped open like a piñata.

His luck, shit didn’t work while the whole rest of the world worked on super speed, so he either had to fight hand to hand with a werewolf or run to the back of the Jeep, bank on the trunk being unlocked so he could get something to even his odds.

He formed a fist.

Stupidity, thy name was Katsuki Bakugou and he was to be dead Katsuki kind of soon.

He bent at the knees, braced, braced, nerves on fire and spitting feedback like a leaky hose. Then waited, waited, waited; time it right, Katsuki. Get it right, there was no do-over in real life.

Waited; claws lunged for his face, Katsuki rolled out of the way, not being there for the meet and greet, and grinding his teeth hard as he got up, pivoted, found the knife, had a grip where some level of relief and elvation bloomed in his chest until it was gone and his arm was in between two rows of teeth.

The skinwalker’s black gums spread in satisfaction. Vibrations wobbled through his skin as the werewolf growled.

Well…this was a fucked situation ain’t it?

But as the real pain erupted, it stopped abruptly, and Katsuki got why, seeing the wall of white fur darkened with dirt and red with blood, and he was savaging his jaws on the skinwalker until it howled and released Katsuki.

It limped away, shaking the forest with its monstrous weight.

Izuku immediately sniffed Katsuki’s arm, whining low in his throat.

“Fucking bitch got me, fuckin, fuck,” he wheezed, slumping against the tires of the Jeep. “The fuck Izuku go after her—what are you—don’t lick it. Stop.” He pulled his arms to his chest.

Izuku shifted. Twin rivers of copper ran from his chewed nose; he tried not to look at the wound too close. “Sorry. Wolf thing.”

“And now you’re fucking naked,” he grumbled; ass royally kicked and bleeding out and now he had Izuku ripped and naked. “Well, go fetch.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Izuku rasped, eyes still a blowtorch blue.  “Pack comes first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, it’s not like this is gonna kill me. Wait,” he blinked, looking at the puncture wounds. “Oh fuck.”

“What, what?” Izuku panicked, fluttering his hands desperately over his cheeks.

“I got bit. By a werewolf.”

Izuku started to smile. “Jez, don’t scare me like that.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“I told you that wolves don’t work how you think. I’ll explain later but you’ll be fine from that. Now those wounds…We gotta get you to the ER.”

“And tell them what?” Katsuki barked. “That some crazy shifter lady who wants to murder my guardian tried to eat my skin, and murder me.”

Izuku’s shoulder deflated. “…I meant you could lie and stuff.”

“Look they’re gonna ask questions and they’re gonna smell beer on me. I’m underage. I’m not getting my ass tied in that. There’s shit at my house. I’ll patch it up or something.”

“Okay,” he said. “I know where you live.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You fucking stalker—hey, hey, wolf boy,” he shouted as Izuku swept him up in his arms and started down a random trail. “The car.”

“Oh!” Izuku blushed; somehow adorable with blood on his face and teeth.

Izuku opened the passenger door for Katsuki and helped him get in.

“Jesus. You know how to drive at least, right?” Katsuki asked as Izuku closed the driver door and buckled in. Naked. The level of nonchalance was astounding and making his head even foggier than it was.

Izuku laughed. “Give me some credit.”

“God, your balls are gonna be all over my seat.”





Chapter Text



“Fuck,” Katsuki said, rifling through his pants. “She took my damn cell phone. Where’s yours?”

Izuku pointed to the pile of clothes on the lawn.

He leaned over the console and Izuku, hand unknowingly braced very close to Izuku’s dick and denoting a fantastic blush on his face until Katsuki went back to his seat. “Why would you just get naked in front of someone’s house? Are you an idiot?”

Izuku folded his arms politely over his dick. “Okay, remember how that one guy was talking to you. I smelled something funny on him, it took me a minute to figure it out. I came here when you weren’t at your house and then I smelled the skinwalker so I just tracked you.”

“…You know you sound insane, right, like I could report you.”

Blue eyes flicked to him; voice intense. “Not to throw it in your face, but if I didn’t show you would be dead or something.”

He hated when this little shithead werewolf was fucking right. Not like Katsuki asked for this—okay, he did go out hunting a Wendigo, but it wasn’t with the intention of landing his soulmate along the way. This party was just an excuse to get out of his brain filled with Izuku and somehow that tangled him deeper in shit and then into Izuku who rescued his ass twice. It was a shitty start to his career as a hunter.

He worked his mouth, trying to think of an insult to win back his superiority. “You’re a little smartass, you know that.”

Eh, good enough.

“I’m just trying to protect you. You’re—“

“If the word ‘soulmate’  or 'pack' comes outta ya mouth, I’m punching you with my good arm. Get your clothes and try not to flash your dick at everyone.”

Izuku went without complaint, though he did roll his eyes at Katsuki. He looked both ways down the street—Katsuki suppressed the urge to bang his head on the dashboard over the mind-numbing stupidity of that— then blitzed it, hastily picking up his clothes.

Two drunken girls catcalled, lazily leaning on the garage wall. One with a figure to rival Jessica Rabbit hooted. “Whoo, baby!”

“Yum, look at those buttcheeks.”

Izuku placed the bundle of clothes over his groin and smiled weakly with a shy wave. “Hello. Well, g—good night, ladies.”

“Don’t go,” Jessica whined. “Stay with us. We’ll have a real good time.”

“Yea. Leave the clothes, you won’t need them,” the other girl laughed.

Izuku chewed his lip with his head down and eyes firmly on the freshly cut lawn, dirty toes curling in between the blades. “Oh, I, uh, I, that’s nice of you—“

Katsuki laid on the horn, holding it down for a second.

Izuku jumped, looked back to see Katsuki giving him death eyes and the middle finger, mouthing angrily, get in the fucking car.

The girls stepped on their toes to see the person in the car. “Your girlfriend?”

“Yup,” he agreed, latching on eagerly to the excuse. “That’s her, my girlfriend, the woman I love and am fully committed to. Yup, yup.” He shuffled backward, clothes over his crotch like a modesty cloth; and how considerate of him to allow the chicks the decency of the gesture, he, on the other hand, had the image of Izuku tattooed to the back of his eyelids. “Well, have—have a good, safe night, ladies.”

“Aw man, do you guys wanna have a fourway then?”

“I, I,” Izuku stuttered.

Katsuki climbed the seat, threw the driver door open, and shouted. “Get your ass in.”

“Ohhhh,” the chicks understood.

The redhead cupped her hands.  “Oops. We’re sorry about hitting on your really hot boyfriend, Mr. Hot Guy. He has a cute butt, take care of him.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at Izuku as he climbed back inside, blaming him for everything leading up to this moment.

Izuku flinched, meeting it. “What—why are you mad at me? I was trying to be stealthy,” he defended.

“Yea, real fucking stealthy.”

“Don’t forget to use condoms,” the redhead advised.

“I hate you,” Katsuki seethed.



Izuku sighed, buckling in naked, and put the car into drive. “Okay.”








“Where the fuck are you?” Katsuki asked when Eijirou picked up the phone.


Katsuki glared at the roof of the car, then said. “No, your brain. Yes, it’s me.”

“I didn’t recognize the number,” he said; in the background was the distance muffle of voices and movements.

“It’s Izuku’s.”

Izuku looked in response to his name being called then set them back on the road as the headlights chopped through the sheets of darkness. Beams of yellow light streamed in and out the interior.

“Oh! So you guys beat the skinwalker, that’s good to hear. We were worried.”

“So worried you dipped?”

“Yea,” Eijirou hesitated. “Uh, Denki’s nose kinda got broken trying to steal Inasa’s car to save you. So I called my mom to get us. We’re at the emergency room. Oh,  and I’m grounded, too, by the way. My mom wants me to let you know that.”

Katsuki tipped his head back. “Fucking wonderful. See, this is why I said the party was a dumbass idea.”

“Well,” he hummed, sounding like he was relaxing in a chair. “It’s not like we knew you would get taken by a skinwalker.”

He rubbed his eyelid; the innocent reminder rupturing just a lovely, lovely headache to join the bites, cuts, and bruises. “Don’t bring that up.”

“Why? Wait, no, I thought you guys took care of it.”

“Well, we didn’t,” he grumbled. “Now I’m all fucked up. Again.”

Eijirou laughed miserably. “We’re pretty bad at this….Are you okay though?”

“Izuku’s driving me home,” he mumbled, exhaustion thick in his voice.  “Should be good after I clean it and stitch it up.”

“That sounds like you’re not okay.”

In light of what the skinwalker wanted to do to him, it was a good condition to be in, even though about every inch of him rippled with aches. “It’s just a bite and some scratches.”

“It bit you?”

“It turned into a werewolf.”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as Eijirou shouted on the line, “It can do that?! Katsuki, you gotta call Aizawa.”

“I’m not ringing him up,” he said.  “It’s looking for him.”


“How the fuck should I know? Damn bitch took my phone anyway. But listen, real quick, if Camie comes up to you—”

“Camie as in, cheer captain Camie, who looks like a goddess?”

“It’s not Camie,” Katsuki said.  “It’s the skinwalker.”

“So the skinwalker is Camie?”

Katsuki pinched his nose, a controlled rush of air wheezed out his mouth. “No. Look, don’t talk to her, okay. I’ll explain the rest later, just watch both your asses.”

“I’m not on a hit list so maybe you should be more careful.”









“That’s twice,” Katsuki said; had walked from the living room, old and quiet with nobody home to make a home other than Katsuki but he was picking up Aizawa’s habits fast and started going ghost on the place too, to the bathroom to give Izuku his cell phone  without saying thank you. But he walked in, found Izuku’s red face in the mirror, with jeans on, wincing as he dabbed patiently on the puncture bites on his soft nose.

Now he was talking without thinking. Action first, logic second; while that was his motif, open and supplying the lines of communication wasn’t but he was looking at that nose, the blood, where Izuku was hard and soft in bad places, as though he took sex appeal, gorgeous, and pretty three to one and sent all their asses to the curb with their meager lunch money in his pocket. Though the fun reality of that metaphor was the guy wouldn’t ever be the villain; fuck, this guy would jump into traffic for Peter Cottontail.

He didn’t know what he wanted with Izuku, honestly, except that it was getting under his skin watching him try to attend to his own wounds after he helped Katsuki—against his explicit wishes, of course. Washed him up. Made soft noises whenever Katsuki hissed in pain like it was his own. Administered tender touches as he bandaged his arm and leg; a small box taped with labels, fragile and handle with care.


“You saved my ass twice already,” he explained.  “It’s kinda fucking annoying.”

Izuku balled up the bloody tissue, tossed it in the waste bin, and ran another folded square under the faucet. The dial creaked as he shut it off. “I would say sorry but I’m not.”

Katsuki dropped his eyes. “Doesn’t that shit bother you?” He asked, then looked up, making eye contact with a stunned Izuku.  “Being told to be with one person.”

Izuku looked incredibly disheartened. “No,” he scanned himself in the mirror and cleaned the blood. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel like a bother.”  He folded the square where it wasn’t soaked with blood and started the process again. “Do you feel that way?”


“Oh. I’m sorry…Oh, well, I,” Izuku said softly, wounded and very bad at acting like he wasn’t about to break with tears; and Katsuki would be the one asshole to make a totally scary looking, monster fighting werewolf to cry.  “I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I’m—”

Maybe it was guilt or the soulbond, but a large part of him hated the implication of ending this sooner than need be. The words were out there before he had a chance to proofread and edit them for public ears.  “Christ, shut the fuck up. I’m not kicking you out after you saved my ass, drove my ass, and now bandaged my ass.”

It wasn’t a sorry but the closest thing he could give to Izuku. After all, he didn’t do anything. Hadn’t done any wrong toward Katsuki other than chase him around town like a clingy pup and save him from two monsters trying to eat him. Guy deserved some slack, right?

Izuku had cute brows, he noticed, and the scrunched the skin between them as he looked up in confusion. “Oh?”

Christ, either this guy came off so sweet Katsuki wanted to pummel his face or he came off so soft and attractive he wanted to pummel his face with his mouth. Puberty, folks, and stupid mumbo jumbo soul bond bull. “Look, I owe you twice. I’ll make you dinner and you can spend the night so I don’t owe you anymore. Fair?”

“I don’t want to bother you more than I have.”

Katsuki took the ball of wet tissue, flung it in the trash, brought out cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide, and cleaned the blood himself.

Izuku’s eyes watered from the sting of the chemical. “Ow.”

Katsuki cupped his jaw, kept his head still.

Izuku seemed afraid to look in his eyes for longer than a few seconds.

Did this fucking guy really care about him that much? They’re soulmates, yea, but strangers. What did Izuku not get about that? Normal people wouldn’t throw caution into the wind and saddled up with someone on the sole fact they were destined. At a point, it was a recurring reality; soulmates. You were fucked without one for a time. About every person had one and didn’t bother with serious relationships outside of their destined mate but biology seemed to give up on that.

Maybe it was because soulbonds turned sour—dead soulmate, still had three kids, well screw you now cause your body wasn’t getting out of bed, your belly rolled over and over so you couldn’t keep a meal down; so now you’re not eating and not working and the kids need a stable home and yours wasn’t that anymore so bye kids.

Or the cases of extreme domestic abuse where the victim refused any resources for help cause they believed their body over logic; fate said this was my soulmate so I’m staying and taking the punches.

Or the people who learned to concoct the biological cocktail that mimicked the chemicals lighting in your mind and body in the acknowledgment of your soulmate with the plans to trick someone into falling in love with them when it sometimes spiraled some people into seizures at the faux chemicals.

Maybe people got sick of being told who was right for them.

Either way, few people had a soulmate and the world wasn’t much better for it but it wasn’t worst either.

“So, how do werewolves work?” He asked; knowing Izuku’s sudden zipper lips were on his account.

“What?” Izuku asked.

“You know a lot of shit about monsters. Hell, more than my ass at least. Seems lot of data on y’all  is wacked.”

“I mean, we don’t want people who hunt us to know how to kill us.”

“Well, I’m not doing that.”

“Then what are you doing?” Izuku asked; Katsuki made the sloppy mistake of brushing the wrist of his hand cleaning Izuku's nose against his mouth.

No clue if you wanted his real thoughts. He didn’t know the next step after today, though he knew he had two monsters to take care of but as to the process of getting that done without major bodily harm coming to himself and the others, he had no clue.

He could plan the next few hours.

Washing up Izuku’s once button soft nose seemed therapeutically easy and hit the snooze option on all the bouncing questions in his head, like Aizawa’s history with the skinwalker, his hands glowing white and bright that one moment, Camie’s—the real one—current status; and how to find someone who could be anyone.

“Cleaning you up. I know you got an ass whopping but get it together.”

“I mean me. Are you going to hunt me?”

“Dude, fucking poodles are a bigger threat to humanity than you. You probably cry when you step on a dog’s tail. You’re the lamest werewolf ever,” he snorted.

“I mean I guess, yea. I didn’t grow up with a pack like most werewolves so I could be an awful one. We or I guess werewolves, in general, ain’t all like the TV says we are or those books do.”

“Yea, dunno if I believe that. I just know you suck so you’re fine.”

“Thank you?”

“Hey,” he started, bringing Izuku’s gaze on him. “When you said not to worry about the bite back there.”

“What—oh, uh, yes. Well the skinwalker isn’t a real werewolf so–but even regular werewolves can’t really just make anyone a werewolf.”

He lowered his hand and examined the wound. It was still an achingly raw red that looped his stomach several times over, but the flow of blood stopped. Izuku mentioned back that werewolves healed themselves fine but it unsettled him. Not to add that it was gross as hell and he couldn’t put any food in him if Izuku stood around with it out and obvious.

He told Izuku to move aside while he squatted down and went through the cabinets and found a wide band-aide.

“So a super werewolf then?” He ripped the package.

Nothing he read hinted at that; far as the lore went and as much as he could glimpse from Aizawa’s faded chicken scratch journal entries, all wolves could make one. Though some argue that it worked if the bite was given during a full moon while some said it was unimportant when the bite was given but that the first transformation happened during a full moon.

Izuku changed by will it seemed so someone somewhere had the wrong facts on werewolves.

“No. It’s, uh, it’s…you’re not like gonna tell other hunters right if I do?”

He gave Izuku a look, peeling off the white strip. “Maybe you don’t realize it but I got like no fucking friends, so who the fuck am I gonna blab to.”

Katsuki pinched the corners, minding the sticky adhesive, and folded it delicately over the wound, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ when Izuku winced. He smoothed the edges as soft as he could, feeling the boney structure of Izuku’s nose.

He touched the sides of his nose a few more times before he realized how lingering and romantic it came off.

Izuku had a flush of color that Katsuki ignored.

“I thought you’re a hunter though. Don’t you guys have hunter conventions?”

“I’m not really a hunter. More like an apprentice, sorta,” Katsuki said; the admittance came out begrudgingly and small the same way he was starting to feel at a neck break pace these past couple of days.

His failure, his lack of knowledge and experience shined a light on fault lines of his personal image; he went around with a big head on his shoulders because he saw shit more clearly than everyone else and wasn’t guided into the same propaganda the kids at his school was. Didn’t give a shit about homecoming parades, lacrosse, spirit week, the candy drives ran every year during February, girls in miniskirts, low neck shirts, and painted glossy lips with their full and perky breasts staged at the front and center ; future prospects at local and out of state colleges; video games like Halo and Call of Duty. He had his car and this clandestine portal to a world shadowed by fables and fiction with adventure, with danger, with a purpose more important than a dumb 9-5 job with a 401k and medical.

But he was a bit like them…full headed, rash, thinking themselves adult with the inch of pool water they were stepping into at the edge of their high school years.

“Oh,” Izuku said, like he just understood something. “Okay, that makes some sense why you’re kinda bad at it.”

Katsuki didn’t deck him on the principle that he would’ve been skinless and dead in the woods if this meddling wolf boy hadn’t sprinted to his side. “On second thought, I will hunt you down, skin your fur coat, and use it as a rug.”

Izuku flushed with excruciatingly transparent guilt. “Not in a bad way!  Not that you’re really bad, you’re just not really good.”

Getting kind of hard not to punch Izuku if he was being honest. “That’s the same thing.”

“No, you’re strong, and you’re so brave too. You weren’t scared of the Wendigo, you coulda ran off but you didn’t.”

“I was just paying you back,” he said; the words rolled off his tongue a lie, because he didn’t think that when he went charging in. “Don’t go reading into that.”

“I just meant you’re not like other hunters. You’re not that experienced but you’re really kind and really brave and I think that counts for something. Most hunters woulda let me die back there, you know, one less monster to deal with but you didn’t.”

“Again, don’t—“

“Only alphas can make werewolves,” Izuku said. “Most wolves kinda have like a rank, like dogs do, or normal wolves. So if say a beta bit you, you would be okay. But an alpha would make you like me.”

“Oh. I thought it was all wolves.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, retroactively experiencing the guilt at outing one of his kinds secrets to a hunter. “No. I think they just said that so hunters wouldn’t try killing alphas specifically. Not that it would stop werewolves from happening. Some can be born if one or both parents have it so, yea. It’s not like a common thing, so most would be made.”


“So?” Izuku parroted with an uncomfortable expression of lost.

He propped his hips against the counter. “Fucking c’mon, you gonna tell me that and not tell me what you are.”

“Why would you wanna know?”

“If we’re, like, that thing, then I should know you, I guess—just forget it. Don’t answer.“

“I’m an alpha,” Izuku said, sucking noisily on his bottom lip. “I was born a werewolf.”

“So you can make werewolves?”

“Yea, but I haven’t. I swear.”








“Are you making mac and cheese?” Izuku asked, nose winning out and bringing him to hover curiously at the steaming pot. “The Kraft kind?”

Katsuki scrunched his nose, insulted. He waved his spoon aggressively at Izuku. “The fuck, no, I’m making real fucking mac and cheese. Not that store bought shit with powder cheese.

Izuku messed with the opened box of dried pasta. “Kraft is good though.”

“If you think that then the real shit is gonna make you cream your pants.”

“Sorry,” Izuku said with a soft laugh. “My momma worked a lotta hours at the hospital so I kinda know how to make store-bought food. Like the home meals stuff.”

He dipped his spoon inside the bubbling pot and stirred the pasta. “What, don’t got a dad to cook you shit?”

Izuku lowered his eyes. “No.”

“Well, I don’t got one either.”

“Where’s your?”

He shrugged; from his experience when people walked out of your life that meant they didn’t want a part to begin with so as much as he kind of wanted to know who they were and why they dumped him off like an old broken motor, he also didn’t care.  Maybe there had more a lot more to it; but he was almost 18 and not much of a phone call or a letter came his way so they must have not wanted him even now.

 “Fuck if I know or care. They didn’t want shit with me then I don’t want shit with them. Simple.”

“Oh. I kinda want to see my dad.”

He lifted one eyebrow in bewilderment. “Why?”

Izuku chewed his lip.  “My momma’s human. My dad’s the…”



“You’re not from here,” Katsuki summarized. “You got an accent and this place isn’t too big.” He had a feeling before but the bits and pieces from Izuku, the way he didn’t mention or name places or parts, and the fact he would remember a face as distinguished as Izuku’s cemented his theory.

Izuku stared at him, obvious that he was conflicted about sharing his past with Katsuki.

“Look. I’m not telling any hunter about you. Okay? You fucking stalked me, fought a Wendigo and a skinwalker for me but you can’t say shit about yourself.”

He didn’t have some loyalty to the hunter’s code or whatever because Aizawa wanted a normal, mundane life for Katsuki. So if there was some code to it, he didn’t know it. And that counted for bad monsters, right; ones like the Wendigo and the skinwalker who either mindlessly hunted or killed with no remorse. Izuku wasn’t that; regardless of how short he knew him, it was an irrefutable fact Izuku wouldn’t dare hurt anyone out of spite or malice.

So he could keep his secrets since it wasn’t breaching any codes or rules.

“You’re pack,” Izuku explained, like it was the magic phrase to justify his actions. “I have to protect you even if you don’t want it.”

“Would you tell your pack?”

More averted gazes and slumped shoulders. He might’ve laughed if his body would quit making his teeth ache. “I don’t have one. Well, my mom’s my pack, kinda. I don’t have other wolves.”

“You’re totally missing my point, if I was a wolf in your pack,” Izuku’s eyes were overshadowed by a blue smog. “Would you say it?”

“I think so.”

He motioned. “Then say it.”

Why the fuck was he so insisted on learning Izuku; why was he putting the fucking effort into dinner for him; why did he clean that annoying gash on his nice nose. Stupid soulmate mumbo-jumbo; Katsuki had a fucking laundry list of ‘people and creatures who either want me; one, dead, and two, not dead in the literal sense but as in my future and my grades and my life’ and being blindsided by a puppy with soft eyes and invisible, biological, and criminal strings to his heart and mind was the last thing he needed, okay.

“You’re pack but you’re not.”

He flapped his arms out, frustrated more at himself and the whole soulmate situation than Izuku’s nondisclosure contract. “Jesus, fine, don’t say anything.”

“I’m not trying to make you mad,” Izuku said; trampling his soft eyes over his profile as he stirred the pasta.

“I’m not mad.” Him; mad; ha; good joke, Izuku.  “I don’t care. Just making conversation with a nosy ass werewolf,” he said, with the unvoiced addition of who I keep putting my ass on the line to protect, to house, and to feed like some fucking Harlequin heroine who hasn’t had a cock so that’s why she’s getting wet at the first John with an okay face and TV abs.


“Grab me the strainer,” he ordered, turning off the stove. “Set it in the sink. Now watch out cause this shit hot as fuck.”

Steam undulated to the roof of the kitchen, rushing his face with a splash of wet heat after he tipped over the smoking pot. “There are some bowels in the cabinet there,” he said, directing Izuku. “No, no—yea! Open it, and—yup, take those.” He heaved the strainer and shook around the cooked pasta, then upended it back into the pot.

“This is the trick to good fucking mac and cheese,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out a block of sharp cheddar cheese. “See you go raw, natural. The pasta’s hot so it gonna do all the hard work for you. Sometimes I’ll do two type of cheeses so it’s super cheesy.”

Izuku watched critically.

Katsuki spooned pasta for both bowels then shredded the block of cheese; small shavings falling on to the pasta. Once both bowls were loaded to maximum cheesiness and two glasses were filled with water, Katsuki unceremoniously lounged in the living room and turned on the TV to mindless sitcoms; he left the channel on ‘How I Met Your Mother’. Izuku soon filled the spot on the sofa with caution as though he might be sitting on a mine.

Yea; finishing his night were his werewolf soulmate after being chewed up and spit out like a discarded toy by a skinwalker who wanted to eat his skin was not how he planned this but—

Izuku made a sound, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He was laughing. “Sorry,” he said. “I like this show.”

“Me too.”

Guessed there were worst ways it could’ve gone.










Katsuki set the bowels in the sink carefully then went into Aizawa’s room for a blanket. Izuku nestled his head on the armrest as ‘Roseanne’ played with the volume low. Clock said two in the morning and his body was feeling it for once. He draped the heavy duvet over his body and tucked the ends in, then shut off the TV.

He wondered how pissed Aizawa would be if he knew he had a werewolf cocooned in his sheets.

Katsuki dressed down to his boxer briefs and an old faded KISS shirt and laid on his back over the bed. He thumbed through his playlist of his Walkman, and hit the track labeled ‘Whitesnake – Here I Go Again 87’, and closed his eyes until a nagging sensation, like the inexplicable hair rising feeling that you felt when there were ghosts in the room, except the ghost was the white body of a werewolf curling into a fuzz ball by the side of his bed.

He dropped one arm over the bed and reached his fingers for the soft plush of Izuku’s coat, the werewolf instantly freezing as he thought he'd covertly snuck in but when nothing came of it he relaxed and let out a deep breath that opened his ribcage widely before it closed again.

Strangely, he felt better with Izuku in the room. His eyes started to feel the alluring pull of sleep.

The track ended, the songs shuffled, the next track started. Katsuki’s fist was loose around the scuffed up Walkman player. The hand playing with Izuku’s soft fur lost its dexterity.

He heard the lyrics the way you heard a person from across the room speaking at regular volume.



Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore


Chapter Text

“Ha,” Minoru laughed when Katsuki trudged up the hallway and went to his locker. “Someone beat you up, Bakugou?”

Katsuki ran his thumb over the black dial of his lock, punching in the combination of 35, 8, and 15 and disengaged the lock. “Yea, your mom while I was fucking her,” he said, taking off the metal lock.

“I’ll have you know that my mom left my dad and lives in California with her new husband and step kids so there’s no way.”

The metal whined as he popped open the locker. “I will put your god damn head in the toilet, Minoru. Fuck off.”

“Yea, then I’ll tell and you’ll get detention again,” Minoru threatened arrogantly, gutless enough to go to the Dean himself about it and with Katsuki’s spotty attendance, his mile-long attitude, and the town’s general distrust of his guardian Aizawa, the Dean would be more than happy to inconvenience Katsuki.

He hurled his book bag into the locker, then stomped to Minoru, after his shit week idle threats against him weren’t welcome. Minoru tripped over his purple converses, the rubber soles squeaking on the vinyl floor, when Katsuki directed him into the wall of lockers. “You slimy fucknugget—“

“Katsuki, man, lay off. Lay off,” Eijirou said, sprinting over once he turned the corner down the hall, and yanked Katsuki back.

“Douchebag,” Minoru sneered, then ran off.

Katsuki lifted one shoulder, dislodging Eijirou’s hand coldly with a huff of unmuted annoyance. 

“What happened, man?” Eijirou followed him as he stomped back to his locker.

“Nothing,” he grabbed his bag by the strap and unzipped it, throwing in the depilated math textbook. “Stupid shithead doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Aw, man,” Eijirou winced, taking note of the bandages and bruises advertised boldly on his body. “You said you had some scratches and bruises.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes.  “Chill.”

“Your arm’s all bandaged up, man.”

“It’s fine.”

“Dude,” Denki gasped, booking it comically down the hall and banging into the lockers. Katsuki closed his eyes, braced himself for what would most certainly be a tiring, draining, and annoying conversation he was not at all equipped to handle this morning.

“You got jacked the hell up, damn!” He observed, unhelpfully to Katsuki, who surprisingly didn’t need to be told the fact because shockingly when you had an ass beating, you felt it the next couple of days. “Camie kicked your ass all the way to the Shire.”

Alright, it wasn’t that bad, okay? Aside from the limping, the wrapping of his forearm, the few Advils he’d to pop in this morning, and the necklace of a bruise around his trachea; he could pass okay. Denki, on the other hand, sported one swollen eye and a split lip.

Katsuki whipped his head around them; everyone moved around them, absorbed in their own worlds and not at all invested in his and the near-death experience with a skinwalker wearing the fake skin coat of Camie.

“Keep your fucking voice down, dumbass,” he hissed. “And it was a skinwalker, okay. You took one punch and K.O. ed like a fucking light. Next time you fight a monster and try coming to me without a scratch on you.”

“I was already half asleep because I drank a lot so it doesn’t count,” Deni rationalized. “Or else I would’ve took him out.”

“Yes it does count, dipshit.”


“Guys,” Eijirou jumped in. “Maybe we should talk about the skinwalker. Cause that’s kinda important. Like what if she shows today, are you gonna beat her up?”

“She’s not even here. I checked. Her covers blown,” he said, then with a suggestive lift of his brows, Katsuki edged the hilt of a knife from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Got this though, in case. Pure silver.”

Eijirou’s eyes widened in terror. “You brought a knife to school? Oh my god, what if they catch you with it, you’re gonna get expelled. Liam got kicked out for bringing an M8.”

“They busted him with pot,” Katsuki corrected; knowledge acquired as Liam functioned as the school’s dealer since his brother had connections with big people in California.

Eijirou seemed to be the only one having this fear of educational expulsion cause Denki asked. “So she can be anyone, like the X-Men?”

Katsuki glared; off guard from the random question. “What?”

“Like the comics,” he explained, to which Katsuki stood silent, then decided to elaborate further. “Mystique. Hot ass blue-skinned chick with the best rack of all the X-Men character. Wait that goes to Rogue— no, Psylocke. No, wait. “

“I don’t fucking speak virgin.”

“What do you do, man? No games, no girls, no comics. I mean what’s the point of life then.”

“You girls done gossiping in the hall?” Mr. Kan asked, in his white khaki shorts and white polo shirt to coordinate with his white hair and knee-length white socks.

The boys blinked in silence.

Mr. Kan pinched his whistle between his lips and went off on it. “Let’s go ladies. Classes started two minutes ago.”

Eijirou and Denki retreated quickly.

Katsuki hurried to get his books and lock the door, fumbling stupidly while Mr. Kan loomed over his back and whistled into his ear.

He flinched every time the sound lanced the air.

“You got earwax in your ear, boy?” The gym teacher roared.  “Move it, move it, move it.”

Katsuki dropped the lock. “Son of a bitch!“

“Boy, I hope I did not just hear you cursin’. I dunno what old Aizawa lets you get up to but in here, this is my church and I’m your God and I won’t tolerate that shit. Now move it, move it,” he said, clapping his hands and tutting on that fucking whistle.

Katsuki whirled around; most of his self-control dedicated into keeping his arms at his side and not launching across the distance and into Mr. Kan’s dog mean face. “You whistle one more fucking time and I’m shoving it up your ass.”

Mr. Kan’s smirked could be described as snake-like, inky, and pointy.

“Katsuki, I just think you earned yourself an invitation to the principal’s office. Grab your stuff.”

“I have class,” he said, hitching one strap of his book bag on his shoulder.

Mr. Kan spat out his whistle; the sliver gleamed wet from his spit around the mouthpiece. “Guess you shoulda thought about that before you chit-chatting away with your little girlfriends. Now, to the office, unless you wanna make a show and have security take you there.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, said nothing, and walked toward the office.






Katsuki had his legs kicked out as he waited in the hallway just outside the principal’s office. They said the typical shit they’ve been ranting at him since freshmen year. Attitude. Bad attendance. Hostile behavior to staff and students alike. Monthly detentions. Bad apple; what a rotten apple he was with a core full of decay. And, ‘don’t think just cause you hold an excellent GPA we won’t take drastic measures, Bakugou.’ Of course, he heard the old fashioned, ‘you wanna end up like a dead beat like Aizawa, no family, wife up and gone, no kids, holding entry-level jobs stocking items before he disappeared off on one of his little trips.’

‘Don’t you want better, Bakugou? You can turn this all around but you gotta curb the attitude.’

“You know where boys like you go? Prison, dead in a ditch, crack addict, mooching off of people with their life in order, homeless, jobless.”

“Sharpen up, boy, or you’re gonna be like Jerry. Cleaning people’s piss and shit. Watching those with their whole life ahead of them walk through these halls.”

Katsuki’s knee bounced through the lecture, arms crossed, face tightly pulled into a scowl, and wished them luck getting Aizawa on the fucking phone then sat outside the office while they dialed the listed number on his emergency contact form.

Ha; didn’t know what was funnier the fact they thought they knew him or that they could get Aizawa here when he was knee deep in a case.

The bell rang; doors opened; the peace he had was trampled over by squeaking sneakers, smacking flip flops, the murmur of conversations, the yell of security when students roughhoused in the hall.

He bounced his one knee when traffic moved past the principal’s office; bracing for the stares and the rumor mill to start spinning and weaving another bullshit tale about him. That happened in a relatively small school; people gossiped. Katsuki was one favorite conversation starter as everyone had their own idea about him and Aizawa. The mystery surrounding his sudden appearance. The lack of similar facial features.  The speculation about Aizawa’s wife because no one ever saw her leave, she just wasn’t there one day so people thought Aizawa made her some kind of living sacrifice or that she was getting dick on the side with another guy and bailed on Aizawa.

 Yea…people loved to talk.

No one was surprised to see him there. A few people passed him like he was an empty chair, some jutted their chin in sympathy also familiar with being on the school’s bad side—Hanta, for his clown antics in class, the whoopie cushion he planted on the Literature teacher’s  chair; Mina, who ate food in class and stuck her gum under the lab table;  Terry, who set off firecrackers in the girl’s bathroom—; others spoke in hush volumes about him, eyes landing on him before they dipped in fear—





He’s weird like Aizawa.

They should just kick him out.

Katsuki gripped his forearms, winced from the hot wash of pain, and the iron hot bite of it triggered one memory after another like line of dominos—the bite from the skinwalker, the party, and Izuku. Green paint in his human eyes; blue crayon in his wolf ones; poorest excuse for a werewolf. Remembered being scared of them when he was young though he had too much pride to change the channel or tell Aizawa to pop in another movie. Creatures of fur, wet hot torn skin, yellow teeth and eyes, so malformed they’re almost repulsive to witness. Couldn’t be the farthest thing from Izuku—all soft white fur like a Husky; not a slave to the moon or bloodlust; lacking an hazardous amount of self-preservation. Striking in appearance for the powerhouse of coolness and strength whenever he arrived—look he could admit Izuku was fucking frightening as a werewolf, they’re called monsters for a reason, but he didn’t  feel sick to his core as he did with the Wendigo. Scared shitless, yea, but Izuku wouldn’t touch him like that. Wouldn’t fucking dare let anyone do it. So that cup of fear and panic now gave a keycard to feelings like pride and attraction.

He couldn’t explain to you what soulmates felt, what soulmate did, what was healthy or wasn’t but his chest seemed hollow but wide; undiscovered galaxy of emotions. And there was an unhealthy lance of anger when he woke up the night after their little sleepover to see carpet missing a werewolf. The only trace of him was the white fur sticking to his carpet and the two bowels in the sink.

He expected some stumbling thank you note for the food and a bed for the night, and then wondered why he expected something. Why should he care if a note was there or not?

He paid Izuku back. All should be gravy now.

Stop worrying about wolves and soulmates; there were two monsters now. The Wendigo could wait for now he just had to hope people were stupidly superstitious or lazy to go in the woods for a few days while he sorted out a plan to find the skinwalker.

“Psst. Katsuki,” a voice whispered.

Jarred back from thoughts, Katsuki looked around, leaning forward in the chair to crane his neck.

“Dude,” Denki’s head peeked out from the corner and whispered “Bathroom.”

Katsuki checked the glass window where the principal’s secretary tapped her old, wrinkled, wine red fake nails over the keyboard. She adjusted her gold rim glasses chained around her neck, focused on the screen and the stack of files on her desk. A phone went off and she pulled her strained eyes off the screen to answer it with a cheery smile around thin lips. Whoever was on the other line must be of importance because she shot out of her chair and waddled to the principal’s office door with her hunched back to the glass window.

He grabbed his bag and walked lazily down the hall, becoming another student off to class then and slipped inside the bathroom after he took the corner.

“Watch out,” Denki said, checking the coast for anyone that might’ve followed him before he shut it. “Okay. We’re clear.”

Katsuki breathed a small laugh at Black Ops level of stealth Denki was demonstrating. “Everyone’s saying that you got in coach’s face and that you’re getting expelled.”

He leaned on the wall, shrugged. “Maybe.”

A random student inched the bathroom door opened, saw the cluster of friends in the throes of a conversation and hovered stiffly in the doorway before he lowered his head and shuffled to the urinal.

Eijirou frowned. “Katsuki, what are you gonna do if they kick you out?”

The sound of piss hitting porcelain made the conversation slightly uncomfortable to have.

“Like I care.,” he snorted. “This shit is a waste of time anyway. I don’t need this to be a… “ He glared at the guy trying to overhear him. “Hunter,” he said, once the guy faced forward again.

Denki seemed impressed that the thought of expulsion didn’t frighten Katsuki. “Man, you’re like Scarface.”

The guy—Katsuki thought he recognized him from his British Literature class—zipped up, interrupted the white quiet of the bathroom when he smacked the soap dispenser, slicked his palms together, ran it under the water, and ripped off two sheets of paper towels to dry his hands.

Katsuki scowled, letting him know he better up his fucking pace unless he wanted a beat down.

The door swung shut; the halls were quiet again with everyone seated in the classrooms now.

Eijirou watched him, brown eyes little private viewing windows into a well of sincerity. “Do you really want to do that forever?”

“Whoa, what the fuck,” Katsuki barked, physically reacting to that like a real punch to the gut. Hunting, that what their plan since freshmen year, to toss out the diploma and hat and cruise through the States fighting monsters, being agents of justice and heroics. “What the hell are you going on about?”

“Dude, you…you almost died, you know,” said Eijirou.  “With the Wendigo and the skinwalker.”

His face hardened. “I made it out.”

“Cause of Izuku. What if he ain’t there or we ain’t there? Who’s gonna save you?”

Got out, “I don’t need anyone to save my ass,” like someone pushing a refrigerator through a crawl space

“I think you need to call Aizawa,” Eijirou said and it wasn’t accompanied by a joke or a laugh whenever they got tangled up in trouble. “We can’t do this stuff, man. I hate to say it but we’re just dumb kids.”

He didn’t know how to handle this kind of rejection, if you could call it that since hunting was all he had, but he handled it the same way he did with everything else—with acid on his tongue. “You backing out, Eijirou? You scared now after all that shit we did? Then say it, don’t use me as an excuse.”

“It’s not a dang excuse, dude!” Eijirou shouted, and Katsuki kind of flinched, not in fear but in surprise as Eijirou rarely let his temper go of. That was his thing. Eijirou managed to be an overwhelming ball of positivity and support. It turned him off to see it and to have it in his direction.  “God, you’re my best friend. Why is it bad that you dying makes me worried and scared?”

“Fine. Don’t help me.”

“Katsuki,” Eijirou pleaded.

“Hey,” Denki said, voice somber. “Hey, nah. We can’t break up the team. We’re the X-Men, dudes. We’re supposed to kick monster ass and everything.”

“I don’t need anyone holding my ass back,” Katsuki snapped, grabbed his bag, walked out and kept up the momentum until he was sneaking out one of the emergency exits and booking as soon as he got it shut, because all those doors were rigged with alarms to wail off anytime they’re opened and he wasn’t about to sit through another fucking lecture for ditching. His feet slapped hard on the pathway from the side of the school all the way to the parking lot.

He sat inside his Jeep, stewing in his anger, his resentment, his fucking loneliness, his helplessness—what hunter couldn’t handle a Wendigo? A skinwalker? What hunter out there had a werewolf to rescue them when events turned grim?

He knew the hot pressure behind his eyes were tears; he just refused to be a fucking pussy and cry over this dumb shit. Aizawa wouldn’t fucking be crying his ass off, feeling powerless and weak. He would get back out there

“Are you feeling okay?” Izuku asked, materializing outside his car window.

Katsuki wasn’t proud that he screamed. “Oh my—again?!” He hit the button to mechanically roll down the window. “God damn, Izuku, you’re like an actual dog.”

And like an actual dog, a horde of emotions swam in his eyes. You ever see those Humane Society videos, asking for donations, the ones they ran at the sleepy hours of night; you remember the battered and abused animals with their wet eyes so drenched in unbiased love and happiness to be saved, to have someone cared? Looking at Izuku was a lot like that. A big puppy left on the road and happy as a peach when Katsuki unwillingly adopted him.

“I wanted to—I had a feeling,” he explained, with those wet green Crayola eyes of his that gave Katsuki heartburn.

He rubbed his eyes, “You showed up at my school cause of a feeling?”

“You felt hurt,” Izuku said.

He mocked. “You felt that I felt hurt?”

Izuku huffed. “Yes. You don’t feel things?”

“I feel a fuckin’ headache, does that count?”

“Sorry.” The bottom of Izuku’s shoes made a scrapping sound against the ground. “I just thought I check on you just in case. But you’re okay so I’ll go.” He walked away, body small with his dejection. If he had been in his wolf form, then a tail would curl between his legs.

He leaned out the window to yell, “Hey!”

Izuku had a pout when he turned around. “What?”

Katsuki gave a small cock of his head. “Get in the car,” he said with more softness than he’d planned.

Izuku wore his pout determinedly like a child who didn’t want to let go of their hurt. “Why?”

Katsuki curled one hand on the wheel. “I’m ditching,” he said, then spurred the old Jeep to life, the noise of the boisterous engine carried far through the desolate parking lot. The radio picked up automatically as Katsuki never turned it off.


I've got this feeling

That time's just holding me down

I'll hit the ceiling

Or else I'll tear up this town


“You’re coming with, unless you got to bury your shit in the woods?”

Slowly, the frown on his face buckled and smoothed to a wide display of teeth. “Okay.”

Katsuki flipped the button to unlock all the doors, and watched Izuku speed walk around the car to hop in the passenger seat.

“Seatbelt,” he reminded.

“Oh,” Izuku chirped.  “Where to?”

“You much of a gamer, Izuku?”





Yu considered the stack of dollars from where she leaned, bored out of her mind working the dull morning shift at the game arcade. She wore the uniform mandatory hat and polo that the manager strategically ordered in a small instead of a medium. Her makeup was heavier now that she was a working adult; going with fake lashes, smoky ‘fuck me’ eye shadow, cotton pink ‘I suck good dick’ lipstick.

Yea. Katsuki came for the games here but he also liked to look down her shirt too, and to see her and Nemuri walk around the arcade in form-fitting bootleg jeans.  She licked her thumb, and counted the bills the same way a porn star jacked dicks; trained, sensual, and hotter than hell.  “Don’t you kids have school?”

“Actually, I’m 18,” Izuku answered sincerely.  “So I graduated already.”

Katsuki blinked out of his mindless stare down Yu’s shirt. They weren’t dating but he felt kind of sleazy for checking out a girl’s rack so frankly in front of Izuku when he literally pulled the same maneuver after they parked outside the arcade, and realized to himself as Izuku’s butt sashayed in his standard blue jeans how toned and tight he was under the layers.

Yu chewed arrogantly on bubblegum, a gesture given a free pass on for girls like her. “You’re 18?”

“I know it’s my face,” Izuku laughed. “I look young.”

Yu folded her arms on the counter and leaned her rack deliberately on them. “You’re cute.”

Izuku touched the nape of his neck where his dark hair curled tight. “Oh, that’s mighty kind of you to say.”

Katsuki coughed into his fist, irritable now. “Change.”

“Oh, yea.” She sauntered to the register with the slithering grace of a snake, clicked her pink nails on the register, and dropped the bills in exchange for quarters. The metal of the quarter made a clink! sound as she piled them on the counter. “Two of our machines are down.”

“Yea,” Katsuki said and palmed the quarters inside a disposable cup.

Izuku waved bye.

“I’m kinda surprise you wanted to go to the arcade,” Izuku said, following down the steps to the perpetually dully lit arcade level; bars of blue light tracked the perimeter of the room. Going during school hours left the place deserted and free. He couldn’t tell you how many times he had to wait for a group of ten-year-olds with no sense of motor skill to fuck off his favorite game.

“Why?” He asked; the screens of the machines played defaults screens of gameplay. You had your classics—Ms. Pac-Man. Your retro—Dragon’s Lair. Your modern—Street Fighter.

“You seem, I dunno, too cool for it.”

“I’m a guy. I like video games. It’s not that crazy,” he said. “You ever play ‘House of the Dead’?”

Izuku looked over the massive machine, the bright screen of slow moving zombies, and the two leashed red and blue guns. “Not really.”

Katsuki grabbed the blue one. “So you gonna aim it, shoot, when you’re low on ammo, point the gun down. You get two hits and then you’re down.”

Izuku took the red one, testing its weight.

Katsuki popped in the change, aimed the muzzle through the options, and set it up for two players. Creepy dated music started and the black screen faded to the interior of an old mansion. The dead shambled to them, growing larger with each step.

Katsuki clicked the trigger and sent the zombie back with a pixelated spray of blood. He moved on to the next target but the zombie was already down.

Izuku smiled. “Keep up.”

“Hooboy. You pick the wrong person to start a competition with,” Katsuki snorted.

Izuku’s score boosted from killing two more zombies. “I’m sorry,” he glanced with innocence in his voice,  lips popped out cutely. “Did you want those points?”

It was a good thing Katsuki had like a massive complex about being the best and throwing himself whole heartedly into competitions or he might’ve gotten a hard-on then and there

“Wow,” he chuckled.


“I had no idea you wanted to get schooled royally, Izuku. You shoulda told me. Woulda played you harder.”

“Your pants are on fire,” Izuku commented.

They went at it for twenty minutes; shouting, laughing, cheering, and groaning from successive combo shots, to their digital demise, to their scores ranking high enough to be worthy of the scoreboard. Katsuki was half tempted to go over again when Izuku’s score ranked above his, but they’re down to half the cup and some part of him was excited to show Izuku all the games, to test him out, to cream him in Ms. Pac-Man.

So when he asked Izuku if he wanted to try another game, Izuku beamed, nodding enthusiastically, and just about jumped up and down at the prospect.

They played Ms. Pac-Man and Katsuki taunted and hovered close to Izuku’s back to throw off his flow, whispering stupid phrases that you heard from stereotypical 80s’ and 90s’ movies villains. Though when he called Izuku a ‘bag dog’ for falling to die on the third level, it earned not just a hilarious death where Izuku boxed himself in and perished via three ghost touch but the most insanely cute furious expression he had ever witness first hand. It made him think of pretty girls and the small pout they put on with their boyfriends, where they were upset only not truly.

“You jerk,” Izuku dropped his eyes; it took a moment for Katsuki to get why, his hands were on the dashboard of the arcade machine and boxed Izuku between him and it to the point that if he wanted he could put his nose in Izuku’s wild hair,  hook his chin over his shoulder, run his hands over his arms then his hands where he gripped the joystick.

He stepped back, trying to remember when he got so close.  “Yea, well, you weren’t doing great anyway.”

“I think you just did that cause I’m doing better than you,” Izuku teased, reclining his elbows behind him. Neon blue painted the soft edges of his cheeks and nose; it cleaned up good from the fight. Offering no evidence beyond the silvering phantom shape of it.

His mouth was suddenly very dry. “I, uh, you thirsty or something? They got, like, slushies.”

“That would be nice actually.”

“Okay. I’ll,” he shuffled backward and awkwardly motioned behind himself. “Go get that.”

Nemuri manned the concession counter while Yu perched herself on top and painted her nails. She had gotten rid of her bangs for a side fringe and a part on the left side of her hair with blonde ombre tips. Both chewed on their gum, and looked a second away from turning any mundane exchange between them into a cheesy porno scene

He slipped a ten out of his leather wallet. “Two slushies. Cherry, I guess.”

“I told you,” Yu commented.

Nemuri smirked knowingly, dragging the bill across the counter.

“What?” Katsuki asked, edged on annoyance from their stares as though there was a massive joke they were in on.

“That you’re bi,” said Yu.


“Yea.,” she nodded. “I mean I know you look at my boobs all the time, dude.”


“I don’t mind,” she continued, oblivious to the mortifitcan and cold panic he was experiencing.  “You’re hot and everything.”

“Where the fuck are you going with this?”

Nemuri said as she waltzed over to the slushy machine and grabbed two medium cups. “You’re on a date with him.”

“We’re fucking hanging out!”

Yu smiled. “Right. We see you all over him. It’s really cute.”

“Why else would you come in during the day, pay for the games, and pay for the food?” Nemuri speculated as she pulled the lever and the machine noisily churned out a smooth tube of icy cherry.  “You drove him too, right, cause I see only three cars in the lot. And one’s mine and the other is our manager’s, Dale.”

At the name drop of their boss, he left his office with a clipboard and pen to give the illusion he was checking up on important business for the arcade but the page was blank save for some graphic drawings of two women who bared an uncanny resemblance to Yu and Nemuri.

Dale, with his bald spot gleaming from the neon lights, waved with his fingers.

“Girls, how is everything?”

“Oh, it’s just great,” they giggled.

Nemuri puckered her lips. “I think there’s a mess in the bathroom though from the other night.”

Dale perked. “Well I could clean that for you!”

“Aw, but I would hate to bother you. Plus I’m the employee too so…”

“What, no, no. You girls just handle this and I’ll get to that.”

Nemuri touched Dale’s hairy forearm. “Oh my god. Like thank you.”

“Is there anything else you girls need?”

Yu curled one strand of hair around her index finger. “Actually I saw you had me for Saturday closing but I totally forgot that I had to visit my grandmother that day.”

“I’ll have Inasa cover for you,” Dale gladly complied.

“Really?” Yu smiled. “You’re the best Dale. It’s such a shame you’re married or I would scoop you right up.”

Dale blushed. “What the wife doesn’t know…”

The girls giggled. “C’mon, Dale, you’re too sweet of a guy to cheat. You’re not like other guys. They’re all mean and trashy and care about sex, but you’re so good and sweet.”

Dave looked at his feet, his face was concernedly red all around. “I’ll let you girls get to it.”

Yu blew kisses. “Bye-bye Dale. Oh, don’t forget to switch me with Inasa, darling.”

“Too easy,” Nemuri laughed when Dale ducked into the restroom with a bucket and mop.

“That’s fucked up,” said Katsuki.

Yu pretended to be offended then abandoned it to roll her eyes at him. “Oh honey, it’s called good business technique. It’s not my fault guys can’t control their dicks around us. We’re just playing the odds in our favor. And he looked at my tits more than once so yea. I’m gonna get my Saturday off. Fuck that.”

Nemuri snorted into her hand. “Inasa’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Not even, he’s been after me for months already.”

“Do you even fucking work?”

“You know if you learned how to talk to people right, you might get your way too. You’re hot enough to have girls,” said Yu.

“And guys,” Nemuri added, shaking the cup to even out smoothie. She snapped a top on one then worked on the second cup.

“Look, I ditched class because that shit suck. He was there so I invited him. You fucking girls be reading all this shit into every little thing.”

“Right,” Nemuri agreed.

“Yea, right, you didn’t get jelly when I said he was cute,” Yu argued. “Which he is. Like oh my god his eyes are so gorgeous. I bet it’s hot as hell during sex.”

Nemuri commented. “You know shy guys are the best in the sack. I heard they’re so good at submitting and being ordered around. Tiffany fucks shy guys exclusively cause they eat out and let her come first.”

Katsuki stuttered, red as he thought about Izuku being all that—submissive and willing, and gagging on him with those green/blue eyes, being good, being his—hold the fuck up. Stop right there. They weren’t gonna; look, he was firm on his stance on fucking his soulmate. It could bring too much complication in his life and Izuku was a werewolf too, that added a whole other heap of drama as well.

What if he lost control—not in bed—during a full moon or something and Katsuki had no choice but to bring Izuku down with a bullet? Could he account on his gentle nature to be in full control 24/7 over the wolf?

 “I wasn’t—you were dragging ass that’s why I was mad.”

“Right,” they intoned.

He seethed. “You fucking bitches.”

Yu batted the air. “Meow.”

“Kitty has claws.”

“Yea, well, at least I don’t give blowies for money,” he sneered.

“That was totally Lauren,” Yu corrected. ”She dyed her hair blonde that year to same shade as mine so that why everyone got mixed up. The trick is get what you want without sucking someone off.”

He rolled his eyes and motioned. “Can I get my fucking drinks already?”

“Gotta rush off to your date, right?” Yu winked.

“Good luck,” Nemuri purred, sliding the Styrofoam cups to him.

“How about you do your stupid job?”

“Our job is watching the people who play games so we are doing our jobs by checking you boys out.

Rather than continue the back and forth, which it would invietablely lapse into because these girls were talented on playing your words against you and making you feel physically, sexually, and mentally inferior, he shot a dirty look and went back to the game floor where he spotted Izuku straddling a half-formed bike.

He shifted his weight to make the turns on the screen quite seamlessly thatKatsuki managed to crash and die on each one. So it was distressing to see him make it look easy and to have his butt arched and filling the back pockets of his jeans.

He gulped.


This was like the worst idea he ever had and you’ve witnessed the past week or so of his ideas so you had a healthy example of them. Both involving near death experiences. Both requiring supernatural intervention.

“Ah, dang it,” Izuku whined, slapping the handlebars; he snapped his eyes up in time to see the replay of Izuku’s crash into a palm tree. “Oh,” he smiled. “Sorry. I saw this and I…” he pointed to the cup of coins. “There used to be an arcade at the laundromat I went to with my mom and I liked to play it…And I don’t know why I just blab all of that for no reason. That’s weird. I’m weird.  Sorry about that.”

“I have more dollars. Chill,” he said. “I got you cherry. Dunno it that’s cool.”

Izuku dismounted the bike and took the cup, wrapping his mouth eagerly around the straw and sucked on it.


No sex thoughts.

We had this conversation fucking minutes ago.


Izuku pulled off with a wet slurp….Yea, he had those exact thoughts too so don’t bother explaining the poor wording right there. “Thanks. I actually like cherry.”

“Yea,” he said with a brainless monotone not far from the digital zombies he was blasting away.

Izuku slurped away though and sighed with pleasure.

This probably couldn’t get any gayer. The whole neon light show, the isolation, the redness darkening Izuku’s tongue and mouth, the fact drinking the same flavor made Katsuki think about Izuku’s red tongue in his mouth—he just wanted headspace from drama both school and supernatural, and planted himself back into the supernatural world like a mosquito to a bright blue light.

“You wanna try?”


“Driving,” he said, then cheekily tagged on. “Think you can beat me?”

Katsuki laughed out his nose and placed the drink on the dash of the machine, throwing one leg over the bike. “Bitch, I would like to see your giant furry ass try.”

“My butt isn’t furry,” Izuku quipped, mounting the bike parallel to Katsuki’s. “You know that.”








They’re at the foosball table, constructed with flat planes of neon to go with the trippy 80s decor, when the middle schoolers started to fill in.  Two kids bitched them out about hogging the table and how they’re not even playing right, ‘you’re making googly eyes like my sister does with her gross boyfriend, all they do is kiss and touch each other down there when my mom isn’t looking;  It’s gross; be gross somewhere else.’ Katsuki flipped the bird and threatened to give the shithead a wedgie if he didn’t piss off to Whack-o-Mole . It was Izuku’s coaxing that got Katsuki to release his metaphorical dog bone and walk through the arcade with him.

“What a shithead,” Katsuki still complained. “Fucking kids these days got their heads up their asses. I wasn’t an asshole like that.”

“You positive?” Izuku joked.

Katsuki shoulder bumped him. “Ha, ha. Wiseass. Hey, wanna try that?” He pointed with his chin to the massive Jurassic Park theme arcade wall. It floated two inches off the ground, supported by a heavy duty base, and had silk curtains on either side of the box. A T-Rex roared surrounded by green foliage  on one side of the box.

Katsuki drew back the curtain. “Get in.”

Izuku hugged his elbows, contorting his body to get a glimpse inside without climbing in. “Is it scary?”

“Are you, a fucking beast ass werewolf, asking me if a game is scary?”

He pouted. “I can get scared just fine. Being a wolf has nothing to do with it.”

“It’s not scary. You’re in a Jeep and get chased by dinosaurs.”

“That’s scary,” he whined.

“What, no.”

“That scene with the T-Rex haunted me forever. I had constant dreams that the world was overrun with dinosaurs and they would wait outside our apartment and try to eat me—why are you laughing? I really had nightmares, Katsuki. It was that bad.”

He leaned all his weight on the box, laughing harder than he remembered in a long time. “Pussy.”

“You don’t get scared?”

He stepped inside the box and sat on the hard plastic seats; each side had a colored gun leashed to the seat. “Nope.”


He sighed. “If I tell you one movie that scared me will you get your ass inside?”


“Fine,” he did the ‘look both ways before crossing the street’ glance over, then muttered low with embarrassment  “Chucky.”

Izuku dramatically placed two hands over his mouth. “…The one with the doll?” He asked, straining to omit the laughter from his tone.

Katsuki pointed the arcade gun. “Fuck you. Dolls are creepy.”

“But I’m the chicken,” he said. “Me. Okay. I believe that.”

“Well, dinosaurs are dead. So your fear is stupid as shit.”

Izuku slipped next to him and pulled the curtains back, roofing them in a thick darkness broken only by the blue and purple neon glowing at the hem of the curtains and the screen of the game. “So do Barbies’ count too or does it have to be specific type of dolls?”

“You know I have silver on me, wolf boy.”

“Yea. But I’m special, right?”

“Like stupid special or—“

Izuku pinched him.

Katsuki rattled the loose change, turning over one coin between his fingers as he thought about it. “You’re something I guess. I doubt its any good.”

“I think you’re good.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Dude, if you knew my ass you would not say that shit.”

“Maybe you can’t see yourself too well cause you’re so close. Like if you put your face close to a mirror, you see all the little scars, hairs, and pimples so you think you’re ugly until you pull away and see the entire picture.”

“Wow, you must get a lot of girls when you talk like that.”

“I don’t want girls, Katsuki,” Izuku said softly, his eyes and voice amplified to a thousand by the darkness. They might’ve gone that dark, hot blue of his for a second but that could be the neon

Katsuki shoved him, not unkindly. “Grab your gun, dumbass, or you will be eaten by a T-Rex.”

“Please don’t say that.”

He popped in the change into the slot, mocking, “I’ll hold your hand, wuss.”

Izuku turned quiet.

The game started up.

For the next twenty minutes Izuku’s high pitched screams of hysteric and lip wobbling pleads had him meeting a terrible, bloody end via dino teeth.






Katsuki pushed his back on the arcade doors and held it for Izuku; he laughed as Izuku sulked out. “Your face dude.”

Outside was shadowing with the sunset; an orange hue shifted over everything and everyone that wasn’t protected by the shade of a building.  “Stop.”

“I wish I had my phone, man, it’s priceless.”

Izuku pulled the hood of his hoody over his head. “Leave me alone.”

Katsuki bumped into him and clapped an arm around him, chuckling. “Aw, man, you’re worst werewolf ever.”


“We should do this shit again.”

Izuku perked; so many of his mannerism and movements were so dog like, very canine; borderline primal.“Yea?”

“Like, I guess, right? You’re gonna be here and at least you don’t fuckin’ make me feel like I’m dumb for trying to do this.”

“Is that why you were sad today?”

He grumbled. “I wasn’t sad, asshole.”

“Okay, then what were you?”

“Jesus, well, thanks for killing my good vibe.”

“Hey,” Izuku said. “I just want to be there for you. I know it’s dumb. I know its makes no lick of sense but look at me, I’m a giant wolf, so my world started with no sense. I can understand you not…liking me like that. It’s okay. But I can be a friend, right, maybe? It doesn’t feel great when you’re…like that.”

Katsuki inhaled, figuring it wasn’t uncool to at least get everything out of his brain. “Eijirou thinks we should stop. Hunting. Says we ain’t no good at it. Thinks I’m gonna die or something lame shit.”

“Well, I won’t let that happen,” Izuku said with the same certainty and resolution you saw from heroes in movies. The undeniable faith they could bring balance to the force or whatever.

“I’m not dying,” he groaned. “You guys are tripping.”

“I know cause I’ll come help you.”

“At some point, I won’t need your help.”

“Then I’ll be your sidekick.”

He found himself smirking at Izuku’s tenacity. “You really don’t know how to piss off, huh? Hey, don’t start with the puppy eyes. I’m just saying. I’m not telling you to fuck off.”


“It just pissed me off,” Katsuki continued, saying everything out loud eased off the edge in him. Whether it was a soulmate effect or the response of actually opening up instead of bottling everything up like a fucking kid, he couldn’t say. But shit, it was getting real easy with Izuku. Real easy, real fast. “This shit has been my shit for years. This fucking town thinks I’m an asshole, a real one. They fucking look down on me. Eijirou doesn’t need this shit. Fucking people like him. He’s a good guy, you know, nice and shit. Denki’s an airhead but he’s cool. They got futures in the normal world.”

“I get you. Not to take away from you, but being a werewolf, my life won’t be very normal. I can’t work around silver because, well, you know. And my temper’s bad too. It’s easy to shift if I’m not okay.”

“You, a temper?”

“It’s kinda common with wolves. Or that’s what my mom told me. So, yea.”

Katsuki leaned against the door of the Jeep, pointed smoothly at Izuku with a finger. “Izuku Midoriya, werewolf, has a temper, is scared of dinosaurs. To fucking think I almost shit myself that night.”

Izuku put two hands behind himself on the hood and hopped up. It spoke volumes that not an insult or a bite of irritation came out of Katsuki’s mouth at that.

He swung his legs. “I think I’m pretty scary looking,” Izuku hummed.

He pushed off the door, magnetized to stand in the space offered between Izuku’s legs, except he was very conscious of his body, almost in charge of it. Izuku was so cinematic in the moment, in white blue denim, housed by a sunset with pumpkin orange mixed with lavender. A cool breeze danced right through his leather jacket; made Izuku’s bangs move—Katsuki was kind of confused on why his eyes shifted between blue and green again.

Fuck it; he set his hands on Izuku’s knees and immediately thought shitshitshitshit. “Not anymore.”

Eyes of a wolf and a man watched him; ready to pronounce at the green light; to make good on the whole ‘soulmate’ package. The protection detail with the bonus of hot kisses and dirty dry humping in the back seat of the Jeep.

A ‘whoop-whoop’ cut the ambiance.

Katsuki winced at the flashing blue and red of the patrol car turning on to the parking lot and curbing a few spaces down. A cop got out of the car and started toward them.

Katsuki positioned himself in front of Izuku, but the werewolf had every fucking intention to protect him from every danger because he started to growl.

“Izuku,” he hissed. “Chill.”

The officer sauntered; the protruding belly of his gut, the cocksure manner he approached everything and everyone like he had a tight grip on God’s balls, the inappropriate linger of his eyes on teenage girls with small tops and tight bottoms, and the scruffy shadow of his jawline tipped Katsuki off. Officer Jones, 54, pasty white complexion, about as friendly as a feral tomcat with a rat, and carrying as much hatred for Katsuki as he did for every type of person he thought below him.

 Officer Jones’ hands set pointedly on his belt. “Katsuki?”

Yea; like he didn’t fucking know Katsuki by sight alone. “Yea.”

“I went looking for you at the school. Seemed you played hooky today, huh?”

“That a crime?”

“No,” he said. “Frown upon, but not a crime. Now I don’t know if you’re aware but Camie is missing and last we were told she was at a party last Friday. Your name was mentioned.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t know.”

“Now you do. I need to take you in for questioning.”

“What, I’m a fucking suspect?”

Officer Jones said, “Let’s discuss that at the police station.”

Izuku’s claws dug into his arm, keeping Katsuki to his chest. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t there.”

Officer Jones spat a wad of phlegm at their feet. “Son, I’ll have to remind you that lying to the police is a criminal offense and unless you want a cell to yourself then I suggest you best mind your business.”

Katsuki couldn’t help his big, fat, impulsive mouth. “Don’t fucking threaten him.”

“That was a warning to him. Now this is my warning to you, either you come with me willingly or I’ll put cuffs on you.”

Izuku said, voice gruff because his teeth were sharpening already, making it tough to speak coherently. “He’s not a suspect. You can’t.”

“Son, last time.”

The green in Izuku’s eyes died a fast overwhelming death to a wave of blue.

This guy couldn’t be put into a cell. No way. What if they found out about him and they either killed him or did some crazy movie stunt and cut him open for science? His world might have space for monsters, but the rest might not.

As much as he didn’t want to get into a police car, it was way fucking better than that.

Katsuki turned and gripped Izuku’s forearms brutally. “Hey.”

He saw the warring between Izuku’s humanity to the wolf’s instinctive drive to thwart all threats to Katsuki. “They’ll—“

“I’ll be cool,” he said, but hell were his arms beginning to shake as his mind raced through the events. No shit the skinwalker wouldn’t keep up appearances. No shit Camie’s family, the school, her friends would fucking worry and go to the cops. And he couldn’t account on anyone not seeing them leave the party together.  Took the damn weekend to recover from the fight when he should’ve gone back out there.


“Take my keys and go to my place,” he instructed with a calm he didn’t at all feel but could—nah, had—to put on for Izuku, because if anything Izuku said was true about feeling Katsuki then this fucking docile werewolf must been reading him right now. Put him with a Wendigo and that was cool. Put Katsuki with the prospect of life in jail and he got jittery like anyone else.  

“Stay there.” He put the ring with a key to the Jeep, a key to the front and back door, and the key to Aizawa’s guns; and Guns n’ Roses keychain in Izuku’s hand. He folded his fingers over the warm metal. Felt Izuku shudder to stay in control. “I’ll call the house phone so just answer.”

A dog whine passed Izuku’s lips. “Katsuki, please.”

Katsuki slipped off his leather jacket, threw it over Izuku’s shoulders, and rubbed his biceps. “Stop crying, dumbass, I’ll be back before you can miss me.”


Katsuki said, “Hey, shut up, ok? Wait by the phone.”

“What if—“

“Dude, I’ll fucking pull the damn S&M card on you.”

“What does that have to do with you going with the cops—oh.”

“Yea. Oh.”

“I’ll wait.”

Officer Jones checked his watch. “If you’re about done with kissing your girlfriend goodbye…”



Chapter Text


“Didn’t take you for one,” Officer Jones said, driving like a model citizen at the declared speed limit of 30.

Katsuki glared at the back of his head from the other side of the cage; his silhouette was massive and shapeless.  “What?”

“A homosexual.”

“Didn’t think you thought about me like that. Kinda messed up.”

He gestured loosely as they waited at a red light. “I mean, hey, you’re not my kid and if Aizawa’s okay with that kind of…behavior.”

“Aizawa’s cool with everything,” he muttered.  “Can’t say the same about the people who live here though.”

“Alright, settle down. If you cause a ruckus then people aren’t going to like that, Katsuki. It’s just the nature of the world,” he explained as though that righted all the bigotry.

He crossed his arms and watched the world darken through the window; his reflection frowned back at him. Red and light lights sprayed by on the other side of the glass, a close relative to an impressionist painting. “Whatever.”

“We tried to call your guardian but he didn’t pick up. You know where he is?”


Jones’ eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “You wanna be specific on that, son?”

“No,” Katsuki snorted, humor so long gone it left dust tracks where it once originated. Did Katsuki want to be more specific- are you shitting him right now?  Katsuki had some specifics for Jones and they involved him shoving his badge and attitude far and deep in a personal cavity. “Because that’s not your business.”







“So tell me about the party on Friday?” Jones started in the investigation room with a cup of black steaming coffee, an ashtray, and a glowing amber tipped cig.

Katsuki’s knee bounced. Fuck; how much he did say; how much did he omit. They probably didn’t give shit about the underage drinking or else half the school would be completing community hours. So it had to be Camie’s parents. The skinwalker had to abandon the pretense of wearing her skinsuit. It could be anyone and anywhere, waiting for Katsuki to drop his guard.

So he had to get out. Don’t give them enough to hold him. Find the skinwalker, beat Camie’s whereabouts out of it, then bring Camie in whatever state she was to the police’s attention so all suspicion was removed off of him.

“It was a party,” he said vaguely.

Jones asked. “You drink?”

“You telling me no one else did? Not Inasa, not Kim?”

 “Seems to me you’re shifting attention off yourself.”

Katsuki cupped his elbows. “I’m just saying everyone had some beer. It’s not a fucking surprise, officer.”

“Someone said you talked to Camie that night.”

“A bit. She offered me beer.”

Jones leaned back in the seat and it highlighted the easy life of patrolling a tight-knit community—belt pinched around his waist, stomach rounder than a keg, dick another urban legend never seen since the 80s. Courtesy of his wife, Sharon, a stay at home mom, serving him hand and foot each night.  Jones hacked into his fist like a senior cat guzzling a hairball. “That’s it? No little making out, no fooling around? She’s a pretty girl. You’re both young and drunk.”

Shit. Someone had to say Katsuki left with her. “That guy you saw with me? He’s who I’m with. Do the whole gay thing.”

“I mean,” Jones sucked on the cigarette; grey smoke swirled out his nostrils, layering the room with thin, white tendrils of smoke.  “Wouldn’t be uncommon for you to cheat and with someone like her. Cheerleader, treasurer of the student council, beauty pageant winner.” 

Katsuki motioned Jones to lean across the table and tongued one of his canines haughtily. “Well, here’s the secret about gay guys, we like dick. I don’t think she has one.”

“I hear otherwise,” Jones said sternly, voice set for no bullshit. “I hear from some kids you two left together, kissing and touching and all that fun and you took her in your car. Then no one sees a bit of her since then. You show up though. You got these injuries. Maybe you took Camie out to fuck, she said ‘no’ once she got her head straight, and you didn’t like that much. Tell me if I’m getting warm, Katsuki?”

He sent him a challenging glare; he bet Jones figured he’d boxed Katsuki into a hole he couldn’t get out of. “Those people sober when they saw this cause I dunno, man. And I left to get my boyfriend. Came back to pick up my friends but they weren’t there so I went home.”

Jones smiled, tight, teeth grinding together so he wouldn’t strangle Katsuki himself. “And I bet if I pull him in, he would swear it too.”

“We went messing in my car, so yea. Go ask him.”

He asked. “What about the injuries?”

“Dog bit me.” Man, the wealth of truth in that.

Jones screwed his mouth to the side before he said. “Shouldn’t ya gone to the hospital?”

“Why, so they can give me a bill for something I can fix at home? Nah.”

Officer Jones ashed off his cigarette with a murderous flick.

“You want me to call him so he can give his statement too? Cause he’s at my house,” he said innocently as he could; a pretense Jones saw through clearly as his hands clenched minutely into fists.

Yea, Katsuki thought, you can’t do shit with now if I got an alibi.

“You know what I think is fucked up is that you profiled me cause my relation to Aizawa. I thought the police were supposed to be fair when it came to justice. You know what I want to talk to your boss cause this is some bullshit.”

“There’s a payphone by the restrooms,” said Jones. “I think you should remember where it’s at. Call him. I want his statement.”

Katsuki stood up.

“And Katsuki,” Jones stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray; smoke lifted upward in tight circles almost like they did in the cartoons when the devil appeared.  “You boys lie and that’s obstruction of justice, remember that.”








Izuku pushed through the front door, out of breath as he scanned the station frantically for Katsuki. “Katsuki? Oh my god, are you—“

Katsuki charged fast before Jones could take Izuku with him into the back, and kissed him.

And you know how you had that one nanosecond after making a choice, like when your ankle rolled on the stairs and your body tipped forward and you’re in a pause menu and you had time to tell yourself ‘well this is going to suck’, Katsuki experienced that. A ‘wow this was the wrong choice’.

It was a bad call when it wasn’t a bad call; you leveling with him? Too good that it had to be real bad.

Cause of instead of having the streamline thought of ‘ew, why am I kissing this fucking dude’, it was ‘why haven’t I been kissing this fucking dude’.

Izuku had dead fish lips under his; reacting to it like a slap to his face.

 “Kiss me, asshole,” Katsuki whispered, moving his mouth against Izuku’s unresponsive one.

Izuku did then, breathing heavily into his mouth. People had hot, wet mouths but fuck, Izuku’s led to the home of an active volcano—why the hell did he fool his hay brain into thinking this was smart? Cause it was hitting him now full force; soulmate mumbo-jumbo.

“You’re my boyfriend,” Katsuki said in between pecks, fighting the hot pull of Izuku’s mouth, the tightening of his gut in response to finally having Izuku, his soulmate, his werewolf protection detail.

“Okay,” Izuku agreed hoarsely; and what a fucking terrible, hideous sound; dark and warm, setting miniature fires inside his body where a fire should most certainly not start.

This was…this was rapidly turning from a staged performance to legitimate spit swapping.  

“We were together Friday night,” Katsuki continued belatedly, learning a few facts about Izuku’s mouth—he could kiss; his breath didn’t taste like Kibble and Bits; he found residue traces of the cherry slushy from the arcade on his tongue. “We messed around.”

Izuku was totally into another ‘zone’ of being because he growled and the once polite hands, unsure on Katsuki’s bicep grew confident and went for a firm grip on his hips.

The officer at the front desk smacked the counter, harping. “Hey, hey, you two keep it clean here.”

They snapped apart and that wasn’t the only thing snapping back—reality did, fashionably late. They made out for a cover-up. It was a cover-up kiss to speed up Izuku on the details since they wouldn’t be allowed in the room together and Izuku would be smart enough to let Jones led the questions instead of filling out the timeline start to finish.

Jones said, face sour like he food shit in his cereal.  “You ready or do you boys need to sort your story out?”

Izuku squeezed his hand. “I’ll be back, okay?”

He tried to get his shit together and act like it wasn’t their first kiss ever and that it shipped Katsuki express from Saturn and back. “Yea,” he said, tone huskier than a chronic smoker.







“Holy fuck that was too close,” Katsuki howled, able to finally breathe in relief. He was out of one hole with three more to sink him. He put the Jeep in reserve and eased it on the dark road, eager to get some physical distance as well from the situation.

Izuku didn’t comment as they left the lot and ate up the empty road. Yellow headlights illuminated and consumed the asphalt.



Radio off.

Keys jiggling.

Izuku stared out the window like he saw a squirrel.

Katsuki’s fingers drummed on the wheel.

And yea…

The kiss.

They kissed.

His mouth was still red from it, abuzz with the memory, the one thing keeping it alive and very well in Katsuki’s head.

Still tingled too.

That what happened when you kissed someone, dumbass.

Did you think repeating ‘kiss and kiss’ would make the situation more or less awkward; because it wasn’t doing anything to that effect, Katsuki.

So…how did you thank and apologize to your soulmate/werewolf bodyguard for the pretend kissing turned mildly wet makeout and for lying to a cop that they were an item, they fucked on the night of Camie’s disappear when they damn well were fucking fighting for their lives against the skinwalker, and that he solemnly swear it was nothing but the whole truth?

When Katsuki made that reference to him being an asshole, he meant shit like this. Areas like this. Cause he should apologize but apologizing meant it was a show, and it could be hormones or soulmate bullshit or genuine feelings—he just didn’t hate Izuku, okay? Not really.

Not apologizing though made him come across as an asshole that used Izuku and didn’t deem it worth a simple ‘thanks or sorry’.

Say something, Katsuki thought; he rattled the hornet nest already. “So about that, uh, that bullshit—“

“We have to find the skinwalker,” Izuku interrupted, not sparing Katsuki a glance. “We’re both screwed now. We both lied and made a false statement.”

Katsuki looked, Izuku didn’t still.

Damn…was Izuku giving him the cold shoulder?

“Yea,” he said, chest kind of achy like someone drilled a hole in it.

“I tried looking around here. Scenting. Caught not much of it,” Izuku said. “They have an odd smell to them and it never changes much so maybe it’s laying low.”

“That could be it.”

“You need to stay at home,” Izuku advised.

Katsuki barked. “Stay? I’m fucking sorry but when did I become the defenseless cheerleader that gets benched the whole movie?”

Izuku sighed. “Katsuki, you’re…I’m a werewolf. I got it.”

“And I’m the hunter,” he yelled. “I got it.”

“I can’t worry about—“

Katsuki punched the wheel. “I’m not fucking asking you to. You were just the one fucking insisting on helping me, remember? I never asked—“

“Stop the car.”


“Stop it,” Izuku growled.

Pumping hard on the brakes, the Jeep’s rear end fishtailed in the deserted street; the car rocked on the shocks. Izuku was climbing out already, slamming the door and trekking down the sidewalk. Katsuki drove alongside him at five mph, and shouted out the window.


Izuku glared at him once with blue eyes then looked forward.

Katsuki stomped on the brakes, jerked the gear shift in park, and chased him on foot with his keys still in the ignition, the Jeep idling with the yellow round headlights.  “Hey,” he called, completing the distance angrily. “Hey. I’m fucking talking to you.”

Izuku turned around, asked, “Can you go back, please?”; then started walking again to get as far as he could from Katsuki.

Katsuki hounded him, spitting out, “What the fuck is your problem? The kiss? Jesus.”

Izuku charged him fast, the shift from man to beast too quick for the human eye, and balled up the collar of his shirt. “That’s not a game to me.”

He grabbed his wrist, tugging; Izuku’s damned werewolf strength made the fingers wrapped in his clothes like iron claws. “Fucking let go of me or I’m decking you.”

Izuku ripped his arm back, looking human again; eyes greens; face round. A great effort went into him stuffing his hands in his pockets.  “Look, just give me space, okay?”


Oh; now we had a basic understanding of ‘space’.

Izuku wanted it after sledgehammering his furry way into Katsuki’s life, into his mind, into his heart, and now into his nervous system until Katsuki not only started to demonstrate the same symptoms but he might be fully infected like this asshole too. Totally in with the soulmate bug.

So, no, he didn’t get that option.

Katsuki stormed him, crowding Izuku. “No. You don’t get to fuck off now. Let it all out, Izuku. Don’t act like a pussy.”

 “Okay.” Izuku met his furious stare with his own version of it.  “You said from the start you didn’t…want this, and then you go doing that. How’s that fair to me, Katsuki? You can’t use me like that. I want to help you but I’m not your dang get out of trouble card.”

“You want to help me!”

“Because we’re soulmates. You’re my pack in here,” he stabbed heatedly at the center of his sternum. “All I feel is you all the time, Katsuki. I have no control over that. You think I don’t want to go away?”

“What?” Katsuki asked, fucking rocking hard as his stomach swan dove into a collection of jagged black stones; his thoughts were as fractured and uneven—Izuku dipping; just going far far away from him. If he let it, he might vomit back that smoothie all over the pavement.

Izuku pushed a hard through his hair; words frazzled. “I did try, okay? I was ten miles out of this town and I just…it hurt. It sucked. I—“ A tough breath in; a harder one out; water in his green eyes before they’re blinked back like they weren’t real to begin with; and Katsuki didn’t know what you did with people with big hearts. Probably wrap them in bubble wrap. Either way, he never signed for a soulmate and not one like this, one fucking breaking and hurting himself just for his ass.

What the fuck do you do with porcelain dolls besides shelving them in the attic so they couldn’t shatter?

“And then you don’t feel that. You don’t care. And you take me out with you, you do all that nice stuff, you almost call me a friend, and you still tell me you don’t care about me. Then you kiss me. That wasn’t a show, Katsuki. I didn’t kiss you to save your butt. That was me. I’ll be honest with you and say that was real. I kissed with my heart in it and it wasn’t to cover for you.”


Izuku shook his head and dragged the back of his hand under his nose. “I think this is a bad idea. Me being here, I really do. I’ll help with the Wendigo and the skinwalker but I can’t be this for you.”

“Izuku. Dude, c’mon.”

“Maybe I’m not your soulmate,” said Izuku. “Maybe our bodies are all confused and mixed up. I’m gonna go. Just let me be okay.”

Katsuki stood; better a lifeless statue than a kid, and watched the headlights washed Izuku’s back until he turned the corner. He got back in the Jeep and stared sightlessly at the wheel until the howl of a wolf shocked him into glancing up at the sky. Clouds rolled, so purple they’re like bruises made from knockout punches, and gradually the full belly of a harvest moon mirrored off the glass of the windshield.







Katsuki opened his locker after struggling with the lock again, except today he had no energy to get ticked off as usual. Minoru passed him with a dirty look and uppity turn of his nose and the shit with Izuku, with Eijirou, and the whole situation must’ve taken a toll on him because that shit sucked. Not getting an earful of Minoru’s nasally, nerdy voice.

The warranty on their kiss long expired; there were no more signs of the result it of—no redness or swelling or the unique taste of Izuku on his tongue. That didn’t keep him from revisiting it when he got home; the round moon painting the sidewalk and the cobblestones seemed to be taunting him even though he had first-hand proof Izuku wasn’t governed by it.

He went off campus for lunch again and sat in the Jeep for ten minutes with the radio on, with Fleetwood Mac’s somber acoustics feeding the growing pit of tar and sourness in his gut, expecting Izuku to pop up again. To startle at the sound of his voice. To see his bright eyes running over him as though Katsuki invented sliced bread and summer days.

Izuku might start with an apology, expression so downtrodden and close to a pup in the pound that any fury he had chambered up to deflect Izuku would wash away. Katsuki might start with one too, but he wasn’t very good at them, so maybe he could open the door for Izuku and let his humble actions do the work his own words couldn’t.

He pulled out a joint from the glove compartment and lit up, thinking about the messy gathering of freckles on Izuku’s face.


And if you don't love me now

You will never love me again


Those ten minutes eased into fifteen, to twenty, to thirty, then the bell was wailing, signaling the end of the period; seniors and juniors walked back into the building just as another herd of them walked out for their lunch. Katsuki was on thin ice—cutting classes, getting hostile with a teach, a total disregard for rules and authority, ‘if you want to graduate from this school, then you’ll wash up that attitude of yours; no fights, no arguments, no hooky, no smoking on school grounds; one compliant and you’re out.’

He was really tempted to bail, but the threats seemed legitimate this year. They’re already sick of his antics, the explosive nature of his personality, the degenerate attitude towards authority.

He scraped the end of the joint across the rubber of his boot, snuffing out the embers, and slammed the door shut.







“Well look who decided to grace us with his presence. We missed you yesterday,” Mr. Kan said, bringing the gymnasium full of thirty students to watch him as he entered in through the double doors in his school mandated red and white gym shirt and shorts. His boots shrieked over the glossy floor, making his entrance all the more awkward and humiliating because Mr. Kan waited patiently for him.

Katsuki sat on the floor with everyone else.

Eijirou tried a hesitant smile.

Katsuki rolled his eyes and picked at the cracked leather of his boots, stripping off untreated chunks of leather.

Mr. Kan said, “Alright, we’re playing dodgeball today. I want two teams. The captains are Inasa and Shindo. Pick your team members. Inasa, as captain of the lacrosse team, you get first pick.”

“Nice,” Inasa rubbed his palms together like he was starting a fire. “Alright,” he hummed. “Neito.”

Shindo complained. “I was gonna pick him! Okay, Katsuki.”



“Billy, the man!”



After the students were divided into teams, they positioned themselves on either side of the halfway marker for the basketball court. Four red balls were set on the line. All the students had one hand behind them touching the wall, half leaned into a running position.

Mr. Kan went off on the whistle.

Katsuki was one of the few students to grab a ball in time and spear it across the court like a javelin, hitting Minoru’s hard on the nose that his upper and lower body both went airborne before he crashed on the floorboards.

Mr. Kan pinched the whistle, harping. “Minoru, you are out! Off the court, off the court, boy.”

Minoru’s eye were streaming tears as he cradled his nose. “Mr. Kan, my nose is broken. I need to see the nurse.”

“That shit ain’t broken. Sit right back down. I ain’t letting you weasel your way outta exercising, Minoru, how are you gonna find a wife if you don’t put in hours at the gym, huh?”

Minoru sulked to the bench. “Fucking asshole.”

“Dude,” Eijirou panted, falling flat on his stomach when a red blur came hurling toward him.

Denki laughed, using a ball to deflect an incoming one. “Y’all, I was born for this shit. Whoo, run piggies, run! The wolf is out.”

Katsuki ducked and weaved, skidding on his knees and feeling the contact burn on his skin; he shot back to his feet, caught a rolling ball, smacked the rubber against his palm, and locked on a target. The ball buried deep in the student’s gut.

He was putting fury behind everything, taking the currency of hurt and rejection and converted it into the one setting he handled well—anger.

“Katsuki—oh fuck,” Eijirou hopped back to narrowly avoid catching a face full of rubber; instead it barreled into the wall and rolled on the court. Giving a shout to Jesus to the save, he chased after Katsuki again in a half squat.  “Katsuki, dude.”

Katsuki smacked back the ball spiraling to him. “What, can’t you see I’m fucking busy?”

“I’m sorry about yesterday—“

“Right now, dude, for real.”

“Well I came late today so I didn’t see you at the lockers…” Eijirou ran with Katsuki as he raced for another ball.

Mr. Kan shouted, “Eijirou, you are not physically attached to Katsuki.  Separate, separate!”

“I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“I don’t want you to think that I avoided you. I mean I’m still pissed at you but we’re buddies.”

Katsuki stopped. “Oh yea? Buddies have each other’s back and lately, ain’t no one covering mine so fuck you. Fuck everyone.”

“I’m trying—.” Eijirou stumbled to the ground, cheek inflamed from where the dodge ball struck him; he touched his cheek, wincing. “Man, what the hell.”

Katsuki searched for the culprit and saw Inasa coolly walking backward, hands up in the air, teeth flashed in a sleazy grin.

Katsuki bounced the ball once, set his palm under it once it started its descent to the ground, and filled the gym with the sound of his hand smacking the rubber, blood on fire. Fingers fucking twitching because of all that shit bottled up in him, ticked at the world—both human and supernatural, at Eijirou’s logic, at Izuku’s kindness cause if he had pissed off and never shown his ass then Katsuki would not be—heartbroken; left in a thousand pieces with no super glue on hand; at himself cause he always responded with fury like he had his back to the wall at all times.

Inasa picked another ball, matched Katsuki’s gait.

Half the students were benched, rubbing their elbows and knees from crashing on the floor. Eijirou had a cold pack to his cheek while Denki talked smack and narrowed his eyes at Inasa. “I’m getting you for that.”

“Dumbass should pay attention,” Inasa laughed. “How’s that my fault, dude?”

“Whatever beef you got with them stops.”

Inasa checked around the gym, Mr. Kan stepped out a minute ago to talk with one of the cheerleaders in the hallway about the coming game next Friday. “Like I can give a fuck about little shits like them,” said Inasa. “My beef’s with you, Katsuki. I don’t know what you did to Camie, but when I do I’m gonna fuck you up.”

All activity paused at the implication of a fight.

“Yea?” Katsuki let the ball go and spread his arms out, bridging the distance. “Do it now, or are you a pussy? All talk, fucking going on guys smaller than your ass.”

“You’re god damn freak like Aizawa.”

Shindo sprinted. “Guys, guys, c’mon. We’re all worried about Camie.”

Inasa shouted, “This fucking freak is the reason she’s gone.”


Eijirou tugged Katsuki by the shirt, because he was shaking now and not fully aware that his body was primed to explode, to deck Inasa clean across his chiseled jaw, to beat down on him like an ape; so submerged in his rage that he could taste it like a tangible flavor on his tongue.

“Hey,” Eijirou said, trying to keep the situation from escalating. “Don’t go blaming people. He had nothing to do with that.”

“Oh you better shut up man or I’m giving you a black eye too.”

Denki cracked his knuckles. “Square up.”

Neito smirked. “Oh, ready for round two?”

People in the crowd started jeering, applying extra heat to the legally flammable situation.

“Fight, fight, fight,” a chant began, echoing broadly in the gym.

Inasa shoved lightly at Katsuki’s shoulder, and it hardly unbalanced him but it did what it was meant to do and got his hands flexing, making fists.

He wanted Katsuki to throw the first punch, betting on Katsuki’s temper like a play button.

Mr. Kan whistled long and harsh, clapping his hands. “Break it up, break it up—Katsuki, son, you need to step into the hall.”

“You’re fucking pulling me outside?”

Eijirou tried to defend him. “Inasa’s the one—”

“Ain’t no one talking to you, son,” Mr. Kan interrupted. “Katsuki, in the hall, and don’t you dare skip out on school again.”

To his credit, he didn’t flip Mr. Kan off stalking out the gym; thought about it but never acted on the impulse.  The wait in the hall was a few minutes, and when Mr. Kan pushed the gym doors open the telltale squeak of shoes, the call of plays, and the sound of balls finding contact on bodies and wood drifted into the hall.

Katsuki glared at the floor.

“Now I spoke with Inasa,” Mr. Kan started and Katsuki could tell by his voice alone who side he was taking; not that he had any doubt about it. “And he’s telling me you started it.”

“You know what, believe what you want. You wanna blame me cause it’s easier for all of you then go ahead. You wanna say its Aizawa’s fault then go ahead.”

“Then what did happen?”

“Why,” Katsuki snapped, “so you cannot take my word? Pass.”

“Now I give you a lot of crap, son, but it’s for your own good. I want you to straighten out, Katsuki set yourself back on the right path. No one can help you if you keep locks on the doors.”

“Fine, Inasa threw a ball at Eijirou when he wasn’t playing, then he got in my face, basically blaming me for Camie’s disappearance. He wanted to fight me. I already got told that if I step outta line then my ass is out so I didn’t throw a punch.”

“See, I’m being told the exact opposite.”

Katsuki jutted his chin, his smile had teeth and no humor. “Man, fuck you.”

“You wanna have respect but you don’t wanna give it.  I think your skull is too thick for any sense to get through it.”

Katsuki nodded, chewing on his lip. “Right.”

“You’re sitting on the sidelines for the rest of class.”

Katsuki showed his hands. “Yea, I’m so fucking crushed by that.”









“Katsuki,” Eijirou pushed out the double doors, bouncing on his tippy-toes to see Katsuki’s blonde head cut through the crowd of students like a shark that tasted blood in the water. “Dude!”

“Yea, I don’t think he wants to talk to anyone,” Denki told Eijirou as the Jeep screeched out the parking spot, and sped out the school lot with the loud tremble of rock music.

Eijirou threw his arms up in a fit of frustration. “Great. He’s gone. He doesn’t have a phone on him and he never picks up the one at the house. I can’t even go over.”

“You know the cops were looking for him yesterday.”

Eijirou sighed. “Yea. You didn’t say anything?”

“We didn’t even see him leave and I’m not gonna narc on him. He’s a dick but I know he’s not like that.”

Eijirou stared out in the direction Katsuki drove.

“Hey, maybe we’re crappy at this gig, but you know the X-Men weren’t that great when they first started out either,” said Denki.

He turned, hair flaming from the slash of sunlight. “What?”

“My mom goes to bed at nine, I can take the keys.”

A smile played softly on his face. “Alright.”







Flashers bleeped in his rearview mirror, Katsuki glared at the cruiser tailing him and decided to pull over on the side of the road. The police cruiser eased on the shoulder and parked a small distance behind him. Katsuki opened his glove compartment to get his registration form then waited for the cop to get off his ass so he could go on his way to find the skinwalker. Granted Katsuki had nothing to lead on besides what Izuku said about the skinwalker being holed up on the outskirts of the town. He wasn’t going to sit around and feel fucking angry at the world any longer. Aizawa wouldn’t if it was him in Katsuki’s place so he won’t either.

The cop rapped his knuckles on the window; Katsuki powered the windows down, the old machinery whining.

Katsuki started with, “Here’s my—“  until the cold barrel of a pistol nudged his temple and went as motionless as a statue.

“The problem with living where you’re hunting is that you're easy to track, kid,” the skinwalker, who wore the face of a guy with alabaster skin, thin eyebrows, and an unsharpened jaw. Average. Bland. Forgettable enough where no one at the police station minded him much when he walked into the place and signed out a vehicle for the day.

Katsuki put his hands up slowly, blood turning real icy in his body, heart faster than a racehorse, tongue thick like cotton in his mouth. He inhaled, seemed hard to do with a gun on him. “Fuck.”

“Yea,” the skinwalker rolled a Lifesaver in his mouth. “You are fucked.”