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“Izuku if you don’t want to go through with this then I understand.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Izuku said, fine. Very fine.  The definition of it. Look it up on Google and you would see a picture of Izuku Midoriya smiling tight with panic—ahem, with content, because he was fine.

He prepared himself mentally, emotionally, physically—would there be physical ‘things’ for him to worry over; he didn’t bother asking for fear of the answer; Izuku was not a smart guy in retrospect but—to be wed off.

Yes, those bells you’re hearing were wedding bells.

So, congratulations were in order, right?

Oh, Izuku, who was the lucky stud muffin who took your precious heart and soul that you would get married at the very ripe and young age of nineteen? Was he handsome? Did he make your heart pop right out of your chest?  Where you boys nasty and played ‘hide the salami’, huh; you could tell us we’re not your mom. Did you guys go on dates to movies and kiss through the whole thing with the smell of buttered cardiac arrest sitting on your lap? Gasp; did you guys watch ‘The Notebook’ together; the rite of passage for any couple worthy of calling themselves lovers. Where did you guys meet; please we’re dying to know.

Yea…here was the thing about this white wedding, Izuku didn’t know the guy beyond the few things—he was an alpha; which should go swimmingly, and he was being heavily sarcastic there. Two alphas, hoo-boy, hoo-boy; you ever see two mad bulls in a pen? No, that was why. Izuku was a level-headed alpha; rarely went off on a tangent; could smell ready omegas and not cream himself; did relatively well with other alphas…who weren’t afflicted with the strain.

Here was the next thing about his soon to be husband. He had the strain, and boy, was it a big one. The tippity top of the animal kingdom, the king of kings…Lion King. And that wasn’t a joke, he had the lion strain, one of the uncommon form of strains out there and one of the few strain frequently burdened with medical issues compared to other strains like your cats, coyotes, foxes, rabbits, bird, rats, etc.

“I’m okay,” he said, again, unprompted to his mother, who was catching on to his ruse and seeing Izuku was far from fine. And shaking, a bit. In the black tux, and matching bow tie inside the backroom of a ‘mobile home’ if you wanted to be generous. Trailer home, in a trailer park; gravel roads that crunched under the rubber of their black F-150; less than five inches between the house and the earth; lattice fencing; old oaks with far-reaching roots and longer branches extending toward the sky; an in-window A/C unit humming out cool air into the small tin box; a satellite dish installed on the roof; bland carpet, too coarse and stiff for Izuku’s toes to sink and curl like the one back home.

Izuku adjusted the bow, thinking it looked crooked but it might be the vanity mirror in the bedroom. He wished he wasn’t the person to wear his emotions plainly but he was and did—one whole living ball of anxiety and a rolling mass of yogurt like dread in his gut. His eyes looked wide, like he was surprised—not yet but boy was he about to be. Cheeks red. Skin glossy with sweat because he looked terrible and felt worse and his body started to overwork his sweat glands. Hair…decent if he could manage two minutes without carding it—and he touched it again, nervously, aware he was a mess and made himself a bigger one.

…So, Izuku might not be okay.

He left his home, traveled across the States with enough memories in a cardboard to keep him from stumbling into a mental breakdown, and woke up to the sound of small rocks crunching under wheels as they passed through the rusting arch of a gateway to the ‘Flamingo Trailer Park’. The sign advertised it, colors bleached out, the lights busted for three of the letters in ‘flamingo’, eruptions of rust spreading like wild moss, and the caricature of said flamingo mounted on top with no clear defining traits said from its pinks body and flamingo like shape.

Then preceded to be met by everyone in the tribe…or clan…or pack, he was lost on how they labeled themselves here, except his husband to be—he did see his soon-to-be mother-in-law, Mitsuki, and she looked fabulous; blonde, slim, commanding, alpha; Amy Winehouse’s  dramatic makeup with long fake lashes, black smoky eyeshadow, eyes lined thick with liner, pink nude lips, hair in plastic cheap curlers to make fake curls; dressed in white pumps, a silk short Japanese theme robe with a white tank and a tacky gold chain with a nameplate, the name Masaru stylized in a near illegible gold font; tattoos on her bicep, inner wrist, and the name Katsuki on the swell of her left breast. Her southern accent was thick and she called Izuku ‘cher’ and ‘sugar’ repeatedly.

Then the community went back to their pre-party arrangement duties. Izuku followed the wire of lights strung from house to house, pole, to pole, guiding the eye to the area where several tables were leaned against the side of one trailer home. A truck fish tailed  in a fast blur and rocked to a stop in front of the arrangement. Two guys hopped out, howling like wolves, then jumped into the bed and passed one case of beer to another guy. Izuku started to worry at the count of five cases before Mitsuki tapped Izuku on the shoulder and ushered into one trailer home to shower and make himself fancy, but ‘not too fancy’.

He fucked that up with the tux.

He was too fancy.

Too nervous.

Too sweaty.

Too gross to be wed off to a random guy, who he didn’t know and had no idea if he was attractive, which shouldn’t be a fucking concern of his given that this was a marriage of dire times and not sentimental ones, but he did wonder and couldn’t help the million and one directions his mind was racing in.

The knock on the door startled him.

His mother rose off the bed, rubbing Izuku’s back as she passed and opened it.

Mitsuki waved, closing it behind her. She got rid of the pink plastic curlers so her hair bounced and framed her sharp cheekbones. Izuku noticed the piercing on the skin above her lip.  “Hey—oh. So you’re wearing that?”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. Too fancy, he knew it. “I can throw something else on.” He couldn’t remember what he packed though so it was a gamble. His mom mentioned the wedding and he figured the tux passed down from his dad to Izuku for his senior year would do him okay.

“Oh, nah, sugar. It’s fine,” she said, then checked him out again, pinching the fabric between her long acrylic nails. “You just might be looking like a sore thumb out there, you know.”

He was already the odd man out. Didn’t want to tack on anymore to the deal. Alpha, strain afflicted, in deep water with the wrong people and hiding with the right people so those wrong ones didn’t catch him. “I’ll change.”

“What, no, no, you look good, honey. Wear it, wear it. Sugar,” she gripped Izuku’s chin and lifted his eyes from the carpet. “You still feeling it? Cause we can call it off right now.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m just…nervous.”

“Aw, well don’t be. We’re all friendly here. Well, most of us but your momma let you know that you come straight to me about a problem, right? Ain’t matter the issue or size. You bring it here, cher. Or bring it to Katsuki and he’ll bring it to me.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, feeling better under her open and warm hospitality. She looked like a pretty rose with thorns, but she had a tenderness in her. Then again, she ran one of the largest communities of alphas, betas, and omegas under her thumb so she had the experience of tending to other's problems.

“You doing me a favor,” she laughed.  “Now someone else’s gotta deal with that kid—“ The knock at the door cut her off. “Yea, what is it?”

Mina, one of the omegas Izuku saw in passing, popped in, gold hoop earrings jiggling.  “Hey, we got everything set up.”

“Did Yamada bring his lazy ass in or what?”

“Showed up about ten minutes ago,” she popped her gum against her teeth. “He needs his peace to shit or whatever. I dunno, I told him you wanted him by and he said to tell you that. Oh, nice suit,” she spiraled her finger. “Really, really fancy. You look like James Bond.”

Izuku would crawl out the window to end his life and escape this miserable situation but it was a trailer home so he would get a foot of air before he hit the gravel and live on in this miserable situation.

“Where’s Katsuki?”

Mina blew a bubble, pierced it with her teeth and chewed the skin back between her teeth. “Ain’t here.”

“That fuckin’ kid,” she said. “Go grab my phone for me.”

Mina returned, slapping the old brick of a phone Izuku hadn’t since 09.

She rolled her eyes, acrylic nails clicking against the plastic buttons. She flipped her hair back, pressed it to her ear, and listened to the ringer. A minute passed and she cursed, redialing the number.

“Little shit—“ The growl of an old dog Hemi engine interrupted the songbirds and the soft chatter outside the mobile home. Classic rock—Motley Crue’s Dr. Feelgood— boomed from whoever was driving it; dialed up to the extreme to counter the growl of the engine.

“Think that’s him comin’ up. Be playing that music so damn loud so you always hearing him before you’re seeing him,” Mitsuki said, when an approaching bass of sound grew closer and closer.

Outside the bedroom window, gravel crunched under tires, brakes squealed, and the growl of the engine rumbled idly for a second before it shut off. Someone cracked the door open and closed it.

Izuku couldn’t see Katsuki with how far the window was to driveway; he saw the long black hood of a muscle car. An old Camaro probably worth something if someone with money could invest new paint, tires, upholstery, brakes.

Izuku did smell Katsuki.

His tiger recognized it, in the air, the presence of a predator. The dense musk of power. Primal. Animalistic. Wild. He could almost feel himself in the African plains, the unrelenting heat, the tall golden stalks, the Zebras in the clearing munching on the little bit of foliage available in the dry season, the many heartbeats of a pride of lions blending to the grass, the dry earth under their calloused paws, the flies crawling across their flat nose as they watched like statues. He smelled all of that in the tiny room of the trailer home and felt the tiger shift under his skin. On defense.

A faint steamed rose off his skin, like an furnace nested within. His senses sharpened; colors appearing brighter and more detailed in his vision. His nose picked up on every thin scent—from the aerosol can of hairspray Mitsuki used, to the laboratory created flavor of Mina’s bubblegum, the used frying pan in the kitchen sink wet under the faucet left to dilute the oil, the gallery of cigarette butts in a baby pink heart shaped ashtray sitting outside the trailer home under a cheap sun umbrella and a ‘patio table’. His teeth ached, ready to elongate and sharpen. Standing on two legs started to feel bothersome and a waste.

Izuku’s cheeks flushed pink. His skin glistened from the heat within. The air around him thickened with his scent.

“Izuku,” his mother called. “Izuku, wait. Oh my god.”

Where once stood Izuku Midoriya, flustered and out of place in a tux, was a tiger in a tux. The slacks fell right off of Izuku as he walked out the bedroom. The blazer and the shirt strained against his wide chest and fur.

“Mitsuki! Don’t let Katsuki in,” his mother shouted.

Mitsuki closed the door before a voluminous weight clashed against it on the other side. “Oh shit. Katsuki?”

A whine of a roar answered her. “Son of a bitch.”

Inko threw herself around Izuku’s middle to pull him back but her weight was nothing to him so she just rode on his back like a child on a pony. “Why didn’t we think of this? We should have thought of this, first. Izuku, sweetheart, can you please go back?”

“…Sorry I was kinda excited about the wedding.”

“Are you kidding—opps, guess we’re going to the bedroom,” Inko said, still on Izuku’s back as he sniffed at the walls for a way out.

Mitsuki startled at the sound banging on the door again. “Boy, stop that.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“They’re probably curious.”

“Probably? I can’t let Izuku out there on a probably.”

“I got an idea. Mina, go out the window and get Eijirou okay. Bring him here and don’t tell anyone anything. The word is mum, right?”

“Out the window?” She whined, unmotivated by the prospect of squeezing her body through the tight window.


“But I’m dressed nice.”

“Well there’s a five hundred pound lion waiting out the door so you wanna deal with the lion or the window?”

“Man,” she complained, getting up. “I did my hair too. This sucks.”

“Get Eijirou,” Mitsuki reminded her as she slouched her way over to the backroom.

Mina mimicked Mitsuki by opening and closing her hand. “Yea, yea. Excuse me, Frosted Flakes,” Mina side-stepped around Izuku; curiously he tracked her soft scent, pink nose puffing a warm gust of air on her bare thighs.  “But I need the window.”

Mina grabbed a chair, placed it under the window, popped the bolt,  wedged up the panel, and did a small hop off the chair as she heaved her body up. Izuku’s bronze eyes watched Mina’s legs wiggling from the window, when they vanished from sight, Izuku ducked down slightly, intensely focused on where Mina once was. He paced the room, looking up at the window.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of this.”

Mitsuki leaned against the door. “I mean, I figured Katsuki would be okay. Izuku shifted.”

“Don’t blame Izuku,” Inko argued. “Katsuki’s doing too much—“

“See that. We’re gonna be great in-laws.”

Inko sighed. “Please be serious.”

“You worry—“ Another massive clamor of force shook the door in its frame; Mitsuki fumed huffly out her nose, shouting at the door. “Katsuki, I swear to Jesus, you scratch up that fuckin’ door and I’m taking you to the fair. Oh don’t give me that look,” said Mitsuki, earning Inko’s disapproving eyes. “It’s a joke. Sort of.”

Stopping under the window, Izuku went up on his hind legs, scratching his paws up and leaving marks on the wall. With his height, he managed to poked his nose out and sniffed the air.

“Izuku, no,” Inko said “You can’t go out the window. Bad, no.”

“You know what might work? Gimme something Izuku wears and I’ll have Katsuki sniff it.”

“You would have to open the door,” Inko pointed out.

“Fuck. Hey, pussycats, how’s anyone gonna believe you’re in love if you guys be shifting like this, huh?”

“I don’t think they’re listening to us.”

“Oh well. I tried. You want a smoke?”

“Hey!” Mina called from outside of the door, which she had to continuously battle for against Katsuki’s heavy body. “I brought Eijirou.”

“Whoa, Katsuki went full Simba,” Eijirou said, laughing at him, trying to pull on the thin, wispy hair of his golden mane.

Katsuki turned his head, opened his jaw, and clamped down gingerly on Eijirou’s hand so he knew to quit the game.

“Okay, get him to shift, Eijirou!” Mitsuki instructed.

Eijirou stripped off his clothes, handing them off to Mina for her to hold, and shifted to a small red fox. He nosed into Katsuki’s fur, yapping at him to follow. Katsuki rubbed his massive skull against Eijirou, nearly knocking Eijirou off his feet, and went back to grunting at the door. Eijirou walked around him and tracked the flicker of his tail before he yanked on it.  With lazy grace, the lion turned, rumbling a sound of annoyance; Eijirou bounced on his feet, enticing Katsuki to chase.

Honeycomb eyes flickered to the door again, Katsuki’s jaw parted, black lined lips flanked by curving canines designed to render flesh and bone obsolete,  and made a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whine.

Eijirou barked again, rushing up to Katsuki to nip at his face.

When the fox managed to tug on the skin, Katsuki hissed, striking out with his paw, but being used to Katsuki’s body and years of roughhousing Eijirou hopped out of the way. He barked again, calling the lion to follow after him.

Only the retreat of Katsuki’s Savannah hot scent yanked back the call of the tiger, the rise of his alpha.

Izuku shifted back in the middle of the bedroom, drenched in sweat, heart jackrabbiting in his chest.









“I am so sorry,” Izuku apologized for the twelfth time already. Hadn’t shifted out of the blue since sophomore year where his symptoms paired horribly with the chemical fluctuation of puberty. Hadn’t gone black and into the animal since the time the biggest alpha in his school shoved his scent around, alpha-ing up whenever Izuku was because he couldn’t stand the threat of his strain, the fact Izuku’s docile presence still earned him a lot of respect and fear.    “I—it just happened.”

“Alright,” a voice snarled, barging through the mobile home with thunderous footsteps. “Who the fuck—you’re him?”

Izuku looked up from where he hung his head guiltily in his hands, dressed with his clothes again with his button up undone to see another guy in the equal state of undress. He followed the long pink scar going vertically down the guy’s pectoral muscles right to the bumpy abs fuzzed with dark blonde pubic hair. The jeans he shimmied on really did little to hide how thick he was down there.

 “You’re Katsuki?”

Katsuki was—stunning, breathtaking, headliner, model material, heartbreaker—if you peered into the inner body of a diamond taken, polished, buffed, and conditioned into slick forms where any light touching the deep heart of it sprayed back glitter, you would find Katsuki’s raw beauty there. Inside a professionally groomed diamond. Looking at him for the first time reminded Izuku of the time he’d gotten into a real scuffle  with three other alphas, cornering him into a small area and launching punches so he couldn’t shift. He recovered with the same sped now as he did then.

Katsuki was strong, an alpha, a lion, his soon to be husband, beautiful beyond measured and he didn’t even get Izuku’s name right. “Deku.”

Izuku learned how to forget his attractiveness. “What?”

Katsuki stomped forward; Izuku was already answering his power display with his own; the mothers jumped in, holding their sons back by physically positioning themselves in front. “The fuck is your problem, Deku, shifting in my home—“

“Who is Deku?” Izuku asked the room.

“Hey, Deku, I’m talking to you—“

“I’m Izuku. Not Deku. And it’s not like I planned to, you just smelled strong to me.”

“Don’t alpha in my pack, man.”

His teeth closed with a clack. “Don’t bury me with your scent, then! You should have some respect for your guests.”

Katsuki groped his dick. “I got your respect right here, motherfucker. Come and get it.”

“Boys,” Inko raised her voice, infusing the claustrophobic air with the calming scent of lavender and aloe. Izuku’s alpha backed down immediately, seeing through his ire fast. Well, wasn’t he just the most pleasant guest/husband to have. “Now this attitude will not work. Katsuki, we are guests here.”

Mitsuki clipped Katsuki on the back of his skull. “Yea, asshole. They’re guests and you’re still little alpha until I step down.”

“Thank you, Mitsuki,” Inko said. “And you, Izuku,” she rounded on him next, incurring the ingrained fear put into Izuku since his birth. Omega, under 120 pounds, and still unable to open the pickle jar, Izuku cowered before his mother like any sane son did. “I raised you better than this. I believe you owe Katsuki an apology.”

Katsuki snorted, then hissed when a second strike caught him.

“You too,” Mitsuki said. “Showing up late to your own damn wedding. You think we’re all gonna wait on you?”

Inko tapped her foot impatiently, then motioned. “Well? Let’s have them.”

Katsuki glared.

Izuku frowned.

“Sorry,” they said, the performance lackluster.

Mitsuki shrugged, and popped in an unlit cigarette. “Good enough. Now you need to change,” she told Katsuki, fussing with his damp hair with her long nails. “You smell too, but I got your daddy’s cologne.”


“I already picked out something nice for you too,” she patted his rear. “This might be a bogus wedding but Bakugous show up fine as hell to all occasions.”

“Better than a tux,” Katsuki commented, and Izuku knew his mother just lectured him about manners and respect but he really wanted to do something awful and unpleasant to Katsuki like to use up all the toilet paper and leave him with nothing.

Stupid, jerky lion.

“Mina,” Mitsuki snapped her fingers. “Help me with his hair.”

“I dunno why we should bother,” said Katsuki, walking out the room.

Mitsuki whacked the back of his head again. “Aye, you gotta put in the effort to look nice for your husband. Don’t be fucking lazy.”

“I didn’t fucking tell him to buy a tux and shit.”

Izuku sank back into the cushions, exhausted from the conversation.  “Oh my god.”

His mother sank her fingers through his curls. “We should fix you up too.”

“I think I want to puke.”

“Mitsuki,” Inko called. “Izuku has to throw up, let him use the washroom first.”

Katsuki’s arrogant jeered carried through the thin walls. “Haha, what a fucking pussy—ow! Fucking quit it.”

“No one’s appreciating your sass, Katsuki.”








“We are all gathered here today, surprised because we all sure thought Katsuki would die alone, jerking it to Playboy centerfolds. You’re a brave man, Izuku.”

“This fucking a comedy club, asshole?” Katsuki hissed. “Can you speed this shit up?”

“Sure, sure,” Yamada held the Bible with one hand and a Corona in the other.

He burped; the ceremony wasn’t anything you would find on David’s Bridal with a venue on a sheer cliff crowning from the navy water or with a bouquet hall, caterers with silver trays and iron pressed uniforms, tables clothed in thick fabric, a centerpiece to each table reflecting the theme of the wedding. No, they set up the wedding next to the tallest tree yawning up at the sky with exposed roots and ripped package to a granola bar pinned to the bark from the wind gusting smoothly. It wasn’t exactly trashy but it was a far cry from the picturesque wedding photos with the endless fields of green, the glittering of a lake lapsed between the trees, the background of a foundation of courtyard alive with blooming flowers.

It looked a little better than his own backyard but still screamed ‘we got married on the cheap’.

All the chairs were plastic, the flowers fake; no one went as far as Izuku and put on a tux or gown but their clothes were tasteful—summer dresses, cocktail dresses, khakis, polos.  Katsuki had on dark blue jeans that hugged every toned inch of alpha in him, and a simple black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. He went the extra mile and gelled his hair down, though judging by the vile scowl after he stormed out the bathroom where Mina and Mitsuki laughed and washed their hands under the faucet that might have been against his will.

 “Bearly beloved.”

Katsuki’s forehead furrowed with angry folds. “Dearly,” he corrected.

Yamada brought his face close to the pages, then crackled. “Oh yea! Man, I’m hammered. Thanks, Katsuki.”

Izuku met his mother’s eyes in the sea of unfamiliar alphas, betas, and omegas, communicating with her telepathically to object to their holy union and take him away.

She gave him a thumb up.

Well, there went that idea.

He sighed, looked ahead, got fixed with a mean rattlesnake glare from Katsuki…You know, the guy he was marrying right now. This very second; they’re literally saying the words Izuku heard a million times in Hollywood films.

“Pay attention,” Katsuki hissed. “Dumbass,” he added next, because he was rude like that.

Izuku would be married to the rudest guy in existence.

God have mercy.

“I am.”

Yamada prattled on with the scripture. “This union between man and wife—oh shit, uh, man and man! Because y’all, Imma say Jesus don’t mind any dudes and chicks macking on dudes and chicks, like it’s all good, son. Get funky as long as it’s consensual.”

“You’re not,” Katsuki grumbled under his breath; the exchange went unnoted by Yamada and the crowd. “I’m sorry your wedding is so fucking boring that you can’t pay attention.”


Katsuki’s mouth didn’t move as he said, “Dickhead.”

“I didn’t do—“

“Izuku Midoriya,” Yamada hollered with passion, reminding Izuku of those passionate Jazz singers. “Do you take Katsuki Bakugou, in sickness, in health, through the groovy vibes and the not so groovy vibes,” Izuku had a feeling Yamada was improvising half of their wedding vows right now because he was too hammered to read the text, “Till death,” he shouted, startling Izuku with the sudden volume, “do you part, my brother?”

“Are those the right vows?”

Katsuki dug his boot into his shin. “Fucking quit dicking around.”

Yamada laughed. “Oh, these boys are feisty. We have got an idea of what that bedroom is gonna look like.”

“Oh lord,” one man sitting aside Mitsuki with red hair wheezed, slapping his knee repeatedly. “Preach, preach, my brother.”

“Shut the fuck up before I go over there and kick your ass,” Katsuki said.

“Hey, hey, it’s about Izuku’s butt tonight, brother.”

“You son of a—“

Yamada yanked on Katsuki’s ear. “Oh easy, little alpha, we’re just teasing.”

Katsuki gestured aggressively at Izuku. “Would you just say it already? Fuck.”

“I do?”

“You do?” Yamada asked.

Katsuki’s penny eyes flayed into him, communicating darkly do not fuck this up, asshole. “I do? I mean, I do, do,” he laughed, voice unnaturally high with anxiety.  “With passion. And love. Uh, from the windows to the walls that’s how far my love goes?”

He slipped the thin gold band on Katsuki's finger, dropping it quick once the deed was done, the traces of Katsuki's lion hot heat rippled aftereffects on his skin.

Yamada sniffled, growing emotional from Izuku’s declaration of love. “That was beautiful, my brother. That Shakespeare?”

“…Uh, Lil Jon.”

“Oh snap, brother. Word.”

“Yeah. Word?”

Katsuki clawed his hands down his face and groaned into his palms. “This can’t be going this fucking bad.”

Yamada cleared the wobble from his throat and asked, “Do you, Katsuki Bakugou, take Izuku, in sickness, in health, through the sexy times and the not so sexy times until the good lord does you apart?”

“Yea. Sure, whatever.”

Yamada covertly coughed into his hand. “You gotta say ‘I do’, my brother.”

“Ugh, fine. I do.”

“You wanna add more?”

“Fucking—you’re…you’re okay.”

Izuku said, “Thanks.”

“My love is like an infinity pool," Katsuki tried for romance as he put the band on Izuku's finger.

“Okay, can we get to the final part, please?” Izuku asked.

“Then ladies and gentlemen, I do declare, oh yes, I do declare that these boys are now man and wife—man and man. Unless one of yall want to object to this beautiful, holy union of alphas, then say your piece, my brother, or keep ya silence! No? Alright, by the power invested through with my marriage license, I do declare you husband and husband, and you may, oh yes, Jesus, you may kiss the groom. Praise the Lord!”

“Woo,” one alpha cupped his hands over his mouth. “Lay it on him, Katsuki!”

“You can do it,” someone else jeered.

Yamada took a step back, motioning at the space for them to come to together and kiss off their marriage.

Izuku inched forward, both his hands balled at his sides.

When was the last time he even kissed a person? Eight grade with Jared, who kissed Izuku during a sleepover then pretended that it never happened; sophomore year in the closet playing seven minutes in heaven with Henry, who didn’t think he liked boys but had no issue finding all the boyish lines in Izuku with his inexperienced hands; or at the movie theater with this sweet omega Kristina, who gave Izuku first handy during the loud battle scenes at the Transformers’ viewing and wiped his come off with a napkin and stuck her hand back into the bag of popcorn.

He had been so occupied over being married and Katsuki’s intense scent that it escaped him they would have to kiss in front of everyone and make it convincing too.

Izuku chewed on his lip, wishing he had maybe brushed his teeth a little bit the ceremony.

God, what if Katsuki’s breath smelled? What if he tasted like pizza and cheap beer?

How long would it have to be for everyone to think they’re in love?

“Get with the program, dude,” Katsuki said, much closer than Izuku expected him to be. He brought a hand up, taking it along Izuku’s jaw, and it took all of his will not to buck off, to flash fangs, to bring his alpha out. Tolerating a larger threat was fine, but to have this sudden intimacy with a stranger sent Izuku on full defense.

Katsuki seemed to have the same caution, because he moved with incredible stillness and control so reminiscent of his strain it would be hard not to see the lion in him even without the aid his Katsuki’s scent, the sound of his roars and grunts outside the mobile home, the tracks he made in the loose gravel.

Another hand joined; the same white-hot heat that signaled his shift simmered again, low and calm. Sweat gathered under his clothes, beaded down his spine; he noticed Katsuki’s hands were clammy on his jaw.

Katsuki looked into his eyes once, then his lips and leaned forward, kissing him.

And the start of it was laced with hesitation, cause neither of them knew each other’s buttons and while you might not press on the man’s buttons you could step on the alpha’s, the lion’s, the tiger’s; and everyone would be in a world of hurt if either of those got out again unhinged, wild from the challenge of another alpha.

 Neither one of them exploded from the touch.

No one died.

 Izuku relaxed into it, let himself get something out of the sensation of Katsuki’s big lips on his, let himself make it a real kiss and not a peck because anyone in love with Katsuki wouldn’t stop it at a kiss—someone made up of jagged diamonds, no, they would be crazy for Katsuki he theorized. A jungle lived in him, and you didn’t enter and leave one without dirt on your face.

So he closed his hands on Katsuki’s wrists, issued some of his own dominance, and led the kiss.

Open, and close.

Open, and close.

Retreat, and press.

Retreat, and press?

Something cat-like and inhumane passed between them, responding, calling, roaring.

If you wanted an explanation to the fire in his gut, to the mounting power in his hands where they gripped Katsuki like it meant a death from a long fall, to the tongue he didn’t really intend to add but somehow flicked the seam of Katsuki’s lips; then you were outta luck cause Izuku was just rebounding through it. Getting hit with secret hunger.

It was the hooting and hollering of the community that brought them out of it that let Izuku rip his hands where they near flashed into black claws into Katsuki’s sides—when had they gotten there; when had his lips start burning; why was everything hot, moist, and throbbing?

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed; filled with dark honey as his chest rose and fell.

“Whoo, what a great kiss, Katsuki,” a man with spiked red hair spoke again. “You’re doing great up there, buddy. Proud of you.”

Izuku stared at Katsuki’s sweaty face, sucking the spit on his lips.

The heck

Yamada clapped with everyone, “Y’all save the heat for them bedsheets. Your mommas are watching.”

Izuku checked his hand, the plain band of gold around his finger, the matching one on Katsuki’s.

They’re married.

He tied himself to an alpha who he hadn’t the faintest clue about when it came to his past, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his dreams, his ambitions, his whole character.

To keep score, alpha to alpha marriages took up a thin slice of the Union Pairings pie chart you could find online from the 2010 ‘s U.S. Census Bureau right along with omega to omega marriages; because, according to thorough studies conducted on alphas, betas, and omegas, alphas were too violate too together to sustain a long, continuous, beneficial union. To quote psychologist Dr. Chiyo Shuzenji, the groundbreaking leading expert in alpha behavior and research, “Alphas are ingrained since birth to be the one established with dominance and strength especially in relationships; alphas do learn to put this aside in the situation of a pack where it is much easier and acceptable to admit acceptance of a lower rank to an alpha unarguably defined as ‘top alpha’. Relationships are too interpersonal for alpha unions. We aren’t even brushing on the fact alphas require the nurturing pheromones and chemicals found predominantly in betas and omegas. It is as much as about willpower as it is about survival. Alphas need the curb to their violent tendencies or they destroy themselves. Another alpha can’t balance an alpha in the large majority of cases; of course, exceptions will always be made and occur occasionally but alpha unions have proven time and time again why they can’t work. Nature itself has deemed them incompatible and the majority of society feels the same way.”


Yea…this wouldn’t end in disaster.




Chapter Text




Mitsuki leaned on Izuku’s chair, whispering, “Okay, you guys gotta dance.”

Katsuki sneered. “You’re shitting me.”

“But we just did the kissing, and everything.”

“Yea,” he agreed, something that garnered a quiet shared look between the two since they said little after the kiss and the whole ‘walk down the aisle’ part. Izuku didn’t know how to really approach him and Katsuki seemed not to care much about any approach either so he just resigned himself to checking his phone and watching Katsuki’s pack members offer their congratulations to them.

“Well, there’s a first dance for the couple so you two need to dance and fucking act like you know each other. You’re lucky half of the pack is drunk already. Your momma already picked a song for you two.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Katsuki complained as she went to talk to another relative of Katsuki’s.

“It’s just two minutes, then that’s it.”

His eyes slid over to Izuku;  tips and clues of the lion inside assessing him up and down. Figuring him out. Sizing Izuku’s strength. Casually throwing weight cause, whether Katsuki wanted to come right out and say it, Izuku had him scared too. Wouldn’t have shifted otherwise unless Izuku’s tiger frightened him a bit. “Wow, I didn’t ask.”

“Just trying to make this bearable,” he offered helplessly. They were in the same situation, right, shouldn’t it inspire comradery or something of the sort?

“You talking makes everything worst so maybe not talk.”

Izuku slumped in his seat, shoulders hunched inward.


Izuku sipped on his Smirnoff to give his hands a job to do in the meantime, running his fingers up and down the sweating glass.

 The reception was set up in someone’s recently paved driveway; a few picnic tables glammed up with a soft cloth and positioned end to end for the guests, on the other side were regular tables for the family of the wedding looking over the barren mock dance floor. There wasn’t money for a band or a professional DJ so they hooked an MP3 to two speakers and set the setting on shuffle, leading to some awkward moments where a fun pop song would fade into hardcore rap or metal.

Mitsuki walked to the center of the driveway. “Alright, everyone—“ The chatter still went on around her; she pinched her lips and whistled. “Hey, big alpha talking. Now we’re gonna let the boys have their first dance. Denki,” she looked at the blonde alpha standing by the glowing MP3.

He grabbed it, clicking through the tracks, then pressed play.

DMX’s ‘X’s Gonna Give It to You’ started.

Mitsuki sent a look, one of alpha and the snickering  doubling over Denki stopped to change the song to the one planned originally. Izuku gunned the rest of his drink, figuring if the kiss was an…experience then the dance might be just as bad and he couldn’t do slow dancing, holding Katsuki close, with the heat and power of the alpha and the lion in biting range of his jugular without alcohol in his system.

Katsuki spared him a look as he hammered the bottle on the table with a grunt. “Really?”

“What? Are you gonna finish your beer cause I’ll just have it then.”


Izuku cleaned the top with a napkin to clean Katsuki’s spit—ironic after he put his tongue in the direct source twenty minutes ago when he could’ve, no, should’ve done a church kiss with Katsuki—and polished it off to. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth.

“I think I feel okay now.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“And now for their first dance as newlyweds, Katsuki and Izuku Bakugou,” Mitsuki announced.

Crap; he had totally zoned her out so he could hype himself up.

The chair next to him scraped over the concrete; Izuku lifted his head, seeing the slash of orange streaking over the dull blue sunset work like spilled paint on his masculine jaw and striking eyes. He gulped, unsure if the yo-yo performing ‘around the world’ in his gut was cause he had to dance in front of strangers, or that he had to show this extreme intimacy with another alpha, one that scared him as much as he infuriated him. One that was physically true to the word alpha who Izuku didn’t know if he should fight or yield too. One who felt so sizzling to the touch Izuku thought for sure that if they touched each other for longer than a minute, the world surrounding area would denote and be but a crater where they once stood.

 Katsuki offered his hand; he took it, ablaze again from Katsuki’s heat, the tight sticky one Izuku had whenever he shifted.

 They walked around the table to the chorus of applauds and manly whoops and catcalls. Katsuki set his hand on Izuku’s waist and slotted their fingers together.

 Mitsuki nodded to Denki, signaling for the song to start, and sat back down with her husband Masaru.


Well it's early in the morning

And my heart is feelin' lonely

Just thinkin' about you baby

Got me twisted in the head

And I don't know how to take it


They shuffled side to side, chest touching; Izuku tried not to think about how gross his hand must be right now with the way he was sweating gallons. The dainty lights awning over them didn’t do much to remove the romantic atmosphere.

No, if anything they’re making Katsuki appear soft, agreeable, and criminally attractive and those things contradicted the Katsuki he had seen so far. Rude. Petty. Loud. Hot; fine, Izuku’s alpha wasn’t crammed so far up his butt  to be blinded to the fact and not too prideful where he couldn’t admit it aloud.

“You wanna look like you’re in love,” Katsuki commented. “Giving me a fuckin’ look.”

“It’s called my face. I’m sorry it bothers you.”

Katsuki snapped him hard to his body.

The pack hooted.

“Go Katsuki.”

“Oh, I do feel the vapors comin’.”

The same guy who gave them a standing ovation after their kiss shouted again. “That’s my alpha, wooing people left and right, you go, man. Fucking dance the shit outta him.”

Mina giggled, “Damn, is it too late to marry Eijirou to Katsuki?”

Yamada chewed on a rib bone with yellowing teeth. “I got paid for one wedding, not two.”

“I can’t marry him when I promised to sweep you off your feet, cher,” Eijirou flirted.

Mina lifted her hand to view and hummed curiously. “Funny, ain’t no ring here, sugar fox.”

“One day. Me and you, and Katsuki.”

Mina leaned over the table, folding her arms purposefully under her chest to bring Eijirou’s attention to the tasteful cut of her blouse, and took a fistful of his plaid button-up with a hot grace and giggled while Eijirou’s eyes bugged out. “I’m tellin’ you somethang, foxy, you put a ring here and you ain’t gonna have no time for your boys.”

She released, feeling way to satisfied when he fell numbly back on his rear. “Oh,” he said.


Well It's 5 o'clock in the morning

And I still can't sleep

Thinkin about your beauty it makes me


I'm feelin' hopeless at home

I dont know what to do I think I'm in love


 “Really mature,” Izuku muttered, then did the same to him because he wasn’t about to be bullied.

Katsuki smirked, and were he a lion right now, Izuku’s life expectancy would be at about zero.

“Oh, the flames of passion!”

“That bed is gonna be lit.”

Mitsuki barked. “Y’all ever heard of being quiet? God damn it.”

Mina and the girls laughed. “Oohh, pissed off big alpha.”






“Fucking act like you love him, fucker,” Mitsuki hissed in Katsuki’s ear.

Katsuki slapped his hand over his ear, glaring viciously at mother. “Shut up.”

“You lookin’ at him like he’s a puppy you didn’t want,” she whispered; Izuku thought that she thought she was being very quiet with the exchange…that was most definitely not the case right now though.

“Fine,” he growled, and the pent-up mass of doubt, dread, and frustration pinched down on his stomach, he feared the worst and braced for it, turning his head and smiling sweet as summer morning when Katsuki called his name, “Deku.”

…That wasn’t his name.

“Izuku,” he corrected, smile growing agonized.

“Yea, Deku,” he said again, rudely dismissive; Izuku’s cheeks ached, trying to hog tie his own temper. Husbands didn’t fight, well not on the wedding night. Later. “Your eyes like…wow? I guess.”

“I need another drink. My stars, this is a shit in a basket.” Mitsuki kicked her weight back in the plastic chair to move it back and shimmied out the tight space.

“Thanks,” he said.

“…Shut up.”

He was married to the most difficult alpha in existence and he had to live with him for god knows how long and keep his eyes from getting stuck in the back of his skull because there was no doubt he would be rolling them daily due to Katsuki’s pissy attitude. “Wow,” he muttered.

“What? What?” Katsuki barked, metaphorical hackles raised from the thinnest of provocation.

He shrugged, preferring to marinate in his annoyance. “Nothing,” he said; it had that undeniable tone your girlfriend used the second you said the wrong thing but rather than come out openly about what you did or said to upset her, she just pursed her mouth, said ‘nothing, I’m not upset’ when she clearly was.

“Oh, you got nothing to say?” He challenged.

Stretched patience made a mockery of Izuku’s pleasant tone. “I think that’s what I said.”

“Say it, asshole, what.”

“You got attitude.”

“I have attitude?” Katsuki parroted.

“Yes. Attitude,” he repeated; was there a wax build up in his ear cause it seemed half the time he had to repeat himself to Katsuki. “A-T-T-I—“

“I can fucking spell it, shithead.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure.”

“Oh, so I’m dumb now too because I live in a trailer park. Fuck you.”

Izuku pounded his hands on the table; whatever he said or did dug him a deeper hole and by the end of this wedding night Izuku could call it a grave. “I didn’t say that!” Then with a sneer very meek to Katsuki’s god-like levels, he looked away from the alpha. He might smell his cranky butt but he didn’t have to be annoyed and semi entranced by the metal hard cut of his jaw.  Dumb Jesus, why give a snarling tomcat like him those angles? “Oh my god, you’re awful.”

“You ain’t no fucking ray of sunshine either, buttercup.”

Denki laughed. “Whooo! Y’all already acting like you’re married. Oh by the by, I’m Denki,” he introduced, blonde hair to his shoulder and in a style highly reminiscent of Thor, “Residential remixer, aspiring rap artist, undiscovered Dr. Dre in the making, your discount Chris Hemsworth, abs not included, height not included but I can fucking drink like any other pure blooded Aussie.”

Katsuki corrected, with a dry eye roll. “You fucking lived there for five years, barely an Aussie.”

Izuku got up to shake Denki’s hand, immeasurably thrilled to have someone to play off of other than Katsuki. “I’m just bland old Izuku, I guess.”

“Nah, you’re Izuku, the man to the man. Did Katsuki tell you that he punched three of my teeth out?” Denki hooked his finger into his mouth and tugged on the skin to show Izuku the fake teeth. The created teeth easy to find, clean and white against all the other teeth that yellowed gradually with time, age, and from drinking and smoking.

Izuku turned to his new, fake husband, seeking confirmation.

Katsuki met his judgmental expression with no remorse, the villain. “What?”

Izuku made it crystal clear he didn’t approve of his villainous ways. “I think the screws in your head are loose.”

“A lot of shit gonna be loose if you keep talking, Deku.”

“Izuku,” he whined. Was he being deliberate because he hoped it was that and not the alternative that Katsuki’s brain was too small to reprogram his brain to associate Izuku with his real name?

Katsuki’s smirk was feline, a cat who ate the food you left on the counter; blamed the knocked over trashcan on the hound and got away with it scot-free; shredded heavily on your favorite shirt before a big date…

What an evil alpha.

“Aw, y’all that’s beautiful right there. I had me a girl like that. She gave great head,” Denki cocked his head, full with a whimsical feeling as he remembered that same alpha girl from freshmen year that kneed him in the nuts, played hard metal and classic rock while they smoked up in her rusting Honda Civic, the greasy feel of her black hair as she went down on him.

Ah, Kyouka, fucking spitfire of an alpha, skinny and flat like a twig but the girl could work a cock like a porn star. “Man, I wonder if she’s back from college. No matter how heavy my load, she swallowed. Love girls like her. Ain’t quitters.”

Katsuki wrinkled his nose at the plate piled with potato salad and corn. “Can you talk about your jizz somewhere else?”

“Oh, well. That’s—that’s me and Katsuki. We, uh, fight plenty but we…we make up plenty?” Izuku looked to Katsuki for help.

Katsuki hitched his brows in question, ‘why the fuck you looking at me for’.

“So, the sex is great then?”

Izuku was drinking his third—no; fifth Smirnoff—when Denki posed the question. For the expected reasons, Izuku didn’t receive it well and spat all over the table. He got to work on mopping up the mess he made. “Wow, I am so sorry about that. Please pretend that never happened. Actually act like I’m not even here. I don’t exist.”

“Damn, Katsuki, you ain’t getting no dick?”

 “Go get your own sex life and don’t worry about mine.”

“Man, I better get me some noise canceling headphone because it’s gonna sound like the safari up in there tonight. Katsuki is a loud guy, when he got his first handjob over there, see where those two trucks are,” Izuku did see the two Ford trucks and the canopy of privacy and darkness they provided.  “Yea we all heard him. Lasted thirty seconds. Probably the one time we’ve ever seen him in a good mood.”

Izuku brought his hand to conceal the smile spreading on his face. “Oh my god.”

Katsuki lunged out to grab Denki by the back of his shirt but he dodged out if range, having the edge of not being bordered by a table like Katsuki. “You son of a—Get over here.”

“Haha—oh shit, dude, dude, calm down. We all came fast the first time, why are you mad?”

His mother shuffled over once Katsuki sprinted off far from the party to the encroaching darkness  filling the community of trailer homes with the unrelenting velocity and speed of a tsunami. Small pockets of lights were posted outside of people’s driveway or right outside their porch.

“So,” she propped her elbows with a detectable vibe of excitement….Oh no. “it looks like you two are getting along?”

Izuku couldn’t decide to laugh at the outrageous idea that he and Katsuki were ‘getting’ anywhere or to upend the table and ruin everyone’s dinner.  He screwed his mouth side to side, working out an expression. “We just yelled at each other for five minutes. He’s a jerk.”

His mother fidgeted, taking an unused napkin and creating folds in it. “…But he’s good looking though so it’s not too terrible, right?”

“I would push him into a puddle.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, caressing his spine through his clothes.

It didn’t do a whole lot a good; their situation wasn’t any better, Katsuki wasn’t any less mean, but felt therapeutic. “It’s okay. No big deal. It’s not like I have to do anything with him so it’s fine.”

“Of course not,” she giggled. “I think that would be mighty weird if you jumped each other’s bones.”

“…I’m kinda freaked by him.”


“He’s a lion. I think that’s why I shifted like that,” he said, mirroring his mother’s habit and fiddling his anxious energy through peeling the label off an emptied bottle.  “He scared me. Can’t you smell how, like, intense he is?” Like a hurricane; on the on switch 24/7; like the combination of audible and visual and palatable version of a psychedelic drug.

“Yea. But my nose isn’t as sensitive as yours. Beside, Katsuki wouldn’t hurt you.”

“No he would probably give me a wedgie.”

A small smile quirked on her thin lips; the cream pink lip color she was wearing throughout the ceremony and the reception faded, most of it left around the ring of her cup, and the natural color showed through.    “Maybe I should’ve married him,” she said, hitching both her eyebrows in unison, adding levity to his mood.

“Mom,” he laughed.

“I mean, at least he’s very fit…. Your dad, slim to the bone and that’s it. ” Well, a lot of trouble too, but that was neither here or there and Izuku wouldn’t wedge a hatchet in someone’s chest any deeper. She was making bigger and bigger strides to get past his dad.

“He’s…okay. To look at. But when he talks…”

“Ah, the tragedy of hot boys. Pretty all over but the mouth.”

“I really want to be in a bad mood but you’re not letting me.”






Izuku grabbed a plate from the table and walked the assembly of tables serving as a buffet with trays of aluminum filled with beans, rice, pasta, meat, and a salad. Izuku used the tongs to fill his plate; most of them was homemade except for the three coolers frosty with ice cubes and cans of beer for the adults and soda and juice for the kids and teenagers and the cake with three tiers, bland ribbon piping around the diameter and the two groomsmen linked arm and arm on the crown.

He appreciated that at least, the amount of effort and pride put into the ceremony and the reception. If he didn’t think about it too hard he could believe it was a wedding he wanted for himself with close friends and loved ones, little money spent on the venue and bouquet hall; his family wasn’t low income but there had been financial limits like with any other middle-income family.

Izuku lifted the foil off of one tray, heated underneath with a can of chafing fuel burning with a small blue flame, and bumped his elbow into the person next to him.

He turned to apologize, smile ready, when he saw Katsuki. No smile anymore. “Oh.”

“Hey,” the alpha next to Katsuki reached around Katsuki’s front and shook his hand in a firm grip, and it wasn’t proper of him to look at another man on the night of his sham wedding but his arms were bared, tatted, and dense with muscle. The small touch of contact brought the energetic, airy whiff of the red-haired fox lurking underneath the skin—the scent inspiring the sound of grass parting around the slender, agile body; the small teeth excellent for smaller prey like rodents and birds. “I’m Eijirou. I’m Katsuki’s platonic husband. Glad to meet someone who’s gonna do the heavy lifting.”

“Gross, like I would marry you,” Katsuki said; were the comment aimed at Izuku there would no doubt be the bite of alpha on his tongue but with Eijirou the nature of his voice was friendly and good-willed.

“The friendship bracelet you made me says otherwise,” he argued. “You liking everything, Izuku?”

“Uh, it’s…good. Thank you.”

“That’s good. We were all shocked when Katsuki broke the news. Like no one knew he was even seeing anyone. Some of us thought Katsuki bought you off of an alphas site.”

“Those don’t fucking exist, stop watching those dumb Michael Bay movies.”

Izuku laughed, and helped himself to a serving of potato salad. “Well, he didn’t buy me.”

“Katsuki couldn’t even afford you,” Eijirou teased. “Oh, sorry, that came out as flirtatious. You’re easy on the eyes but I’m a taken man, don’t mind me here. Though, I will turn you black and blue if you break my baby’s heart.”

“Dude,” Katsuki growled.

“He gets shy when I call him my baby, right, baby?”

“You’re going to walk home with two balls less.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I hate you, so fucking much.”

“Little alpha, little alpha!” A tiny girl called. Cheeks chubby and round, stark platinum blonde hair done up with curlers so they bounced and rippled past her thin shoulders, eyes sweeter than Bambi’s; she was the picture of innocence, and a part of him felt instantly wary when she pulled on Katsuki’s shirt.

Katsuki looked over his shoulder; expression the exact opposite of what Izuku expected. “Sup, baby girl, what you need?” He asked. No lip. No attitude. His scent actually coaxed out like a soft breeze, ballooning her in it. “Who’s talking shit, Bella, you tell that skank no one likes ‘Twilight’.”

The girl leaned back and used her grip on Katsuki’s shirt to keep her levitating. “No, little alpha, I want a dance.”

Izuku couldn’t believe his eyes as a genuine; God’s true, sweeter than peaches smile crossed Katsuki’s face. “A dance, huh?”

The little omega nodded. “Yes. I saw on the TV that the husband always dances with the kids.”

Eijirou said, “If I may, miss, I would be thrilled to dance with you.”

Katsuki whacked him on the chest. “I think the little lady requested me. Back off, dickhead.”

Eijirou pretended to be mortally wounded. “You don’t deserve such an angel.”

Katsuki placed his plate to the side, wiped his hand down his jeans, and took the girl’s hand. “Let’s go, baby girl.”

She squealed in delight, walking hand in hand with Katsuki, and then looked back. “I’ll dance with you next, Jalapeno! Pinky promise.”

Izuku blinked, then lifted the sweating clear bottle of Smirnoff, heavy suspicion in his face as he scanned the untwisted cap for signs of meddling;  that could be the one logical answer to the scene he’d witnessed just now so whoever did the contamination was beyond skilled. Maybe Mitsuki did it, after all she did offer him his first drink and she was very aware of their little fight right before they put on the rings and kissed.

Yes, yes.

It made perfect sense.

“I think someone laced all the Smirnoffs,” he said to make Eijirou aware. He had a kind heart and unlike his husband, he didn’t suffocate Izuku with his fox scent or front up his strength either even though he plenty reason to. According to their pack hierarchy, Izuku outranked him with his marriage to Katsuki and new alphas to any pack shifted the playing field, riled up other alphas, unhinged the once balanced dynamic.

Eijirou slapped his own chest, howling. “Man, you’re funny,” he snorted briefly, then composed himself.  “Aw, I gotta tell my girl that joke. No. Katsuki’s sweet on kids actually. Big fucking softie.”

Sweet, soft, and Katsuki; one of these things were not like the others. “…I’m sorry but what?”

Eijirou checked him over. “You ain’t ever been around him and kids?”

“No,” he said. “We kinda did the long distance thing so…yea. Never came up.”

“Oh. Yea, he’s good with kids. Part of the job with being little alpha.”

Izuku shuffled down the buffet line with him. “’Little alpha’?”

“Your pack ain’t run like this?”

Izuku spooned Jambalaya rice on his plate, face subconsciously hardening from the rather unhappy memories of his ‘pack’. You could call them that but it was grossly untrue. Pack implied family, partnership, and security. Everyone here seemed to know everyone and shared a beautiful relationship with each person. No one stood off in a corner really except for some of the younger pack members but he attributed that to their age and the easy shift from mood to mood.

“No,” he said. “We were in the city so it’s kinda different.”

“Oh,” Eijirou said, saddened on Izuku’s behalf. “Well, Mitsuki is ‘big alpha’ so she’s the boss around here. Her word is pretty much the law. Katsuki is ‘little alpha’ and he’s basically like her co-commander. He keeps shit peaceful among the alphas. Eri had a bit of a rough year so he’s been looking on her a lot.”

Izuku spared a look to the dance floor; Katsuki hefted Eri and balanced her on his hip, taking her hand in his and leading them. Usher’s ‘DJ’s Got Us Falling in Love’ set the tone to their movements.

“That’s…that’s nice.”

“Yea.” Eijirou jerked his head for Izuku to keep pace with him as they walked off. They stood against a random car with their drinks and ate right there. “You’ll like it here,” he said with food in his mouth. “We’re all about family and support.”

His mother mentioned they were a good pack when he had openly asked her what if they ended up with a pack worse than the one they were in; he didn’t really believe her and she was the most honest person in his life, but Izuku’s pack showed him nothing good to the lifestyle, nothing good to being alphas, nothing great about living with the strain.

“Are there other packs here?”

He covered his mouth as he chewed. “Got a few around us. There’s a bit of a rivalry between us and them, but you’re an alpha. You know how it is sometimes.”

He did.

“You get a lot of nasty people further in the city, about a few miles out. So I would be mindful when you go there. Especially if it’s you and Katsuki. Ain’t no one gonna be happy with two alphas like you guys strutting around.”

“I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea of me. I don’t usually get all…”

“Tony the tiger?”

He laughed. “Yea. Guess you could call it that.”

“No worries, man. If you don’t think this prick doesn’t go Mufasa every once in a while then you’re gonna have a rough honeymoon.”

“You do not call him that,” he smiled.

“A little secret for ya. You wanna rile him up just drop a ton of Lion King jokes, he gets so pissed. It’s the best thing.”

“You guys are real close, huh?”

“Oh, yea, yea man. Me and Katsuki are practically like brothers. You ever want any embarrassing stories then I’m your alpha.”

Eri ran to them, out of breath. “I didn’t get to tell you hi, alpha, and my daddy used to say its bad manners to ignore alphas like that. So. Hi. Nice to meet ya. I’m Eri. I hope you like our pack, alpha.”

This precious omega. Izuku set his plate on the roof on the car, and knelt to Eri’s level. “Well thank you for welcoming me, little lady. I’m Izuku, and I think your pack is really nice.”

She asked, “You’re little alpha’s alpha?”


“I didn’t know alphas could marry alphas.”

“You could love whoever you like. Don’t mind people. You mind this right here,” he poked her stomach. “That thing knows the way.”

“That’s my stomach, Izuku.”

“Whoops. I meant your heart,” he laughed. “See, even alphas can muck up.”

“Katsuki says he don’t.”

“Yea, well, he’s a big old fat lying liar.”

She giggled.

Katsuki approached. “I hear shit talking.”


Eri said, “Oh, little alpha curses worse than that. He says ‘fuck’ a lot. I got in trouble saying it with my teachers.”

Katsuki barked. “That’s grown up words, squirt. You grown yet?”

She nodded, stretching tall on her toes. “I am.”

“What, you’re a liar.”

“But I am growing,” she argued, jumping in place.


She crossed her arms with a huff. “When do I get to say cuss words?”

“When you’re bigger than me,” said Katsuki.

She pouted.

A beta about Eri’s age yanked on her hair, then bolted off. “Kouta,” she complained.

Katsuki pointed. “What I tell you about people stepping on your toes?”

“To step on theirs.”

He smirked, appraising the small fists she made. “Atta girl. Go show the little shit who’s boss.”

She took off, shouting. “I’m getting you, Kouta.”

Eijirou started to laugh. “He’s kinda like you. Except you actually punched people.”

“Fuck you. I still punch people.”

Izuku straightened, rubbing the ache in his knees, and said nothing as he felt like an outsider—okay, he was one but the easy nature of Katsuki’s relationship with Eijirou made it all the more obvious.

“Hey, don’t ignore your husband,” Eijirou scolded.

“I ain’t ignoring him,” then to demonstrate it, he said,  “Deku.”

“You know I’m gonna call you Mufasa if you keep calling me ‘Deku’.”

Eijirou busted out with laughter. “God damn. I love this guy. He’s amazing.”

Funny how Katsuki didn’t think the same as he grinned tightly, murder in his eyes. “Laugh it up,” he encouraged.

Izuku did, coolly tipping his drink back, and looked right back. He hadn’t shifted, but he had phantom sensations of his canines brushing  against his bottom lip. Katsuki could alpha up all he liked, Izuku had plenty of alpha in him to issue it back. “Oh, I will.”







The young pack members wormed on the dance floor, intoxicated on liquor and the freedom of youth. Hands up, reaching for the moon. Bodies grinding and moving like ribbons. Katsuki was one of then, nagged endlessly by Denki, Eijirou, and Mina. He was one of them though now, buzzed, riding pink on his cheeks, arms up, lyrics on his mouth.


Know that I been with the shits ever since a jit, ay

I made my first million, I'm like, "Shit, this is it, " ay

30 for a walkthrough, man, we had that bitch lit, ay

Had so many bottles, gave ugly girl a sip


The blue tinted moon colored them, shining brilliance so the perspiration on their skin glowed. The sweat on Katsuki’s skin kind of made him an object of polished bronze, created with unbendable lines, reflective, tanned from lounging out in the open; he appeared that guy—fucking around, messing around, out in the open, flashy, the antagonist to the quiet.

The track switched. The young pack started roaring and whooping. Katsuki made a face, guessing he wanted no part of the group dance anymore, but Mina wasn’t having that, yanking him back. Denki and Eijirou tagged in on the fun too and surrounded him, trying to body grind on him,

Izuku smiled at the outright displeasure on Katsuki’s face, his attempts to get out of the humiliating grinding being thwarted each time, the honestly adorable friendship between him and the group of pack members.


But you know that there's nowhere

That I'd rather be than with you here today.



Hold me now. Oh

Warm my heart


Mina grabbed Katsuki’s lifeless arms and used them to manipulate Katsuki into moving his shoulders awfully to the music like a puppet.

Katsuki gave her zero joy in return, grumbling a bit before he forced himself into it and actually danced with some skill with her, spinning her to his chest then out. Eijirou and Denki made themselves clowns and passionately dip one another.

The older pack members laughed and talked; Mitsuki had the proudest expression on her face while she spoke to his mother, loosely pointing a finger in Katsuki’s direction. His mother smiled, said something back, then casually gestured in Izuku’s direction. Then they threw their heads back in laughter.

Izuku didn’t think you could get packs like these, but the warm chatter of everyone occupied his world.






“Okay, in a few you and Katsuki gotta cut the cake,” Mitsuki told him.


She wanted him to stand next to Katsuki while he had possession of a knife. Izuku didn’t need to know Katsuki for the full length of 24 hours to know how awful the idea was. “I mean we don’t gotta.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes you do. This might be for show and tell but I want a wedding and I’m pretty sure this will be the one time I get to have one for Katsuki. So you’re cutting the cake.”

Ah; he felt it now. The ‘Big Alpha’; the persuasion on his shoulders like the running of cranberry vodka down his throat, stinging with a cooling aftereffect. “I’m cutting the cake.”

Her face turned patient with a smile. “See, I like you.” Mitsuki patted his cheek encouragingly.  “Now I gotta get my bullheaded son to cooperate.”

Izuku retreated to his mother. “We have to cut the cake. Make sure you have 9-1-1 on speed dial in case I’m stabbed, please.”

By this point in the evening his mother had drunk far more than he had ever seen and was laughing at anything and everything. “Aw, baby,” she cooed, forcibly grabbing Izuku and sitting him on her lap. “I love you baby, but you are so dramatic.”


“You know,” she turned to the older pack members, “He used to cry for everything. Like if he dropped his ice cream, he would start crying. It was awful.”


“And he used to dress up like a superhero and save me. It was so cute, he would use the cloth for the toilet seat as his cape.”

“Okay,” Izuku stood up, confiscating her cup of wine and set it on the table. “No more drinking for you.”

She grabbed it back, tipping it and chugging the rest before Izuku could wrestle him for it.

“Mom,” he gasped.

“What did you call yourself again ‘All Right’?”

He answered miserably; half the pack was getting this unflattering retelling of his childhood when they’re kind of expecting him to be this unshakeable alpha to them. “All Might.”

“Yea,” she laughed, . “All Might. It makes absolutely no sense.”

Izuku personally cursed whoever brought in the wine bottles. This woman would drink a river dry if it was wine.

“We’re cutting the cake.”

She smiled sweetly, not all there. “Oh.”

“Hello, a knife. Katsuki with a knife. Me being next to him with a knife.”

She patted his cheek with uncontrolled strength. “Sweetie. Relax. Just do it.”

“…I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation.”

Mina looped her arm through Izuku’s. “There you are. Time to cut the cake.”

“Mom,” Izuku pleaded, fumbling for the back of her chair to anchor himself to it.

“Oh!” His mother chirped to the rest of the pack members.  “They’re cutting the cake, lemme get my camera ready.”

“Mom, help.”





“Hey,” he said when Katsuki was also brought along against his will; his perfectly gelled hair started to fall apart as the night went on, strands tumbled over his eyes; the buttons of his shirt were undone and Izuku saw the healed pink tip of a surgical scar on his hairless chest.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, said,  ”Let’s get this shit done with,” in a voice kind of like someone scooped two handfuls of nails and screws, put them in a blender, and set the pulse to the highest setting.

He couldn’t say if it was attractive or grating, but his gut had knots.

 Izuku looked to the plastic grooms on the top tier of the wedding cake; faces made to be happy but were they really, huh; are you happy with him, Mr. Plastic Man?

Katsuki reached for the knife; Izuku played referee. “How about I take that?”

“I think there are rocks with more brains than you. We both hold the knife, it’s symbolic, and if I wanted you dead then I would do it later with no witnesses. Who murders someone with an audience, huh?”

“But you have considered it?”

Now Katsuki looked like he might stab him. “Give me the knife, Deku.”

“No.” Izuku pressed the knife to his chest, flat.  “Put your hand on top of my hand,” he said.

Mitsuki rose behind them, like a creature from the lagoon as dual hands stretched unnoticed shadows over the two alpha’s heads and struck with a mother’s fury.

“You fucking—,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Why did I get hit, what did I do?” Izuku asked.

“Oh, oh, like you’re innocent!”

Mitsuki yanked on their ears next, earning dual animal roars that tempered down to meek housecats in front of her alpha. “Can you two cut the fucking cake without arguing?”

“Who cares everyone’s fuckin’ drunk,” Katsuki said.

“I care, and I want photos so pretend to have a soul tonight.”

Katsuki said, “I will if you will—ow, fuckin’; dad! Dad! Defend me.”

Dad, a.k.a. the beta swimming with the spirits of ten crushed cans of Budweiser, waved sluggishly. “Go, Kacchan,” he said nonsensically.

“Like yer daddy gonna do squat. I suck his dick.”

“I don’t need to know you fuckin’ wrinkly fucks get it on, have some damn shame, woman—ow; dad. Tell your female something.”

“Great job, honey,” Katsuki’s father encouraged.

Izuku giggled, biting on his fingers to muffle the sound. “Kacchan? Wow.” Such a childish nickname for an alpha embodying…on the other hand, it fitted since Katsuki was a child in a man suit.

Katsuki’s eyes zeroed on him like the red dot from a sniper rifle. “You’re definitely getting shanked, Frosted Flakes.”

“We’re cutting the cake,” Mitsuki shouted to the pack, then hissed to the alphas, twisting their ears for good measure. “Don’t fuck this up for me. I want good pictures, you motherfuckers, I took your granny—god rest her soul— silver frames outta storage for this shit. She wanted someone in this dang family to have a wedding without being knocked up.”

Izuku said; if his mother was sober she might’ve told Izuku he was acting like a brass alpha, lots of testosterone but not a lot of thinking. And maybe he provoked Katsuki more than necessary too…though in Izuku’s defense—no, no; we’re going to be the big person. “Okay.” Then turned to Katsuki, “You can hold the knife too, as long as your hand is on top.”

Okay, sort of the big person. Baby steps, right?

The hand sliding over his had a lot more sexual energy to it than he expected; a serpent magnetism if you would. It seemed the second he squared himself against Katsuki’s crude sex appeal, it came back, thrashed its fists on Izuku’s apartment door, punched him in the nose when he answered, then went inside and upended anything and everything vertical. “Yea, bet you like it on the bottom, huh.”

“Excuse me,” he sputtered, looking like the Valentine section of any retailer; made of all shades of pinks and reds. “I—I—I.”

“Bottom,” he said, digging further with it since it made Izuku as colorful as a clown.

“I am not sharing my sexual history with you.” Limited but still; and what made Izuku a ‘bottom’ just because he had manners to thank people and asked kindly for things and didn’t boldly think himself a gift from God.



“Damn, Baku, what you whispering in his ear? Got that boy redder than a cherry,” Eijirou laughed, recording with his phone.

Mitsuki mouthed behind the gathering of pack members, balanced on a plastic chair with a cigarette and her old cell phone while her husband fisted the back of her blouse in case she tumble over, “Cut the fucking cake or I’ll cut you.”

His mother sniffled. “Oh my god, my baby. All grown up.”

Izuku shared a look with Katsuki for confirmation that he wasn’t going insane in the moment.

“Look, don’t make this gayer than it is,” Katsuki said at a low volume. “Cut it.” He directed their wrapped hands on the knife over the lowest tier and sliced through the sugary frosting and the two layers of yellow cake sandwiching an inch of buttercream filling. Flashes blotted out their faces; Katsuki placed the slice on a paper plate, then launched it at Izuku’s face.

Izuku felt cake ooze off his face.

Katsuki licked his wide thumb, dragged it where frosting gave Izuku a unibrow, took that same thumb—sugary and white now—, and popped it into his mouth.






Four a.m.; one of the downside of living within a mobile home to mobile home community was that no one had to beat traffic the next day, or drive off home since it was a brisk walk away, so the party lasted longer which meant Izuku made himself a giant ass given the ample opportunities and copious amount of alcohol sweating in the cooler. It was the one thing to cool his alpha after being caked, humiliated, then aroused, again, all in one sitting.

He couldn’t even have cake after that—the thought derailing instantly to the part of Katsuki’s plush mouth, the wet pink of his tongue, the way his lips sucked around his thumb like a coc—; yea, no cake for him.

Izuku sat for the rest of the night, suffering in silence, finding Katsuki barking in laughter at something Eijirou or Denki said and feeling irrationally that it was in regards to him until Mitsuki started snapping at everyone to get their rear in bed. After they cleaned up the littered bottles and cans, the overflowing bin of trash, the leftover food still edible for a week,  they headed inside for the night.

Izuku walked into what he assumed was Katsuki’s bedroom, bangs dripping with water from the third washing of his face courtesy of Katsuki, and looked around the cramped space. There wasn’t much to it and he wasn’t speaking purely about the leg room; it had a modest bed,  walls an eggshell cream, a few books on a shelf nailed above the bed, a prehistoric TV from the early 2000s stacked atop of six drawer dresser, and CDs and DVDs placed on top of the TV. Katsuki’s flammable scent was the one thing that defined it as his.

Izuku turned as steps padded down the hall.

Katsuki came in with his shirt off, and undid his pants in front of Izuku.

Izuku zipped his eyes away as Katsuki legged out of his pants, and stood while he folded it with black briefs and  black socks.

Izuku talked cause it helped with the awkward silence and the heavy sinking realization that this guy was legally his husband. “We don’t gotta—gotta sleep together right?”

“Am I gonna fuck you?”

Actually, he meant sleeping arrangements but—Katsuki whipped his head back, pure horror and repulsion in his eyes; and okay, nobody was happy with the current flux of their lives but to go as far as to recoil physically and emotionally based solely on the suggestion of doing the nasty tango with Izuku like he was a monster from the green lagoon was downright mean.

Izuku was fairly okay to kiss, right? Reasonably fit. Quite on the scrawny side compared to Katsuki, who fit the bill of a bully with the attitude, the curl of distaste, and the brawny body for grabbing nerds and slamming them into metal lockers.  He wasn’t…f-ugly.

He was really getting upset by this; that his law-biding, totally legal husband—which he only married for his protection; and it wasn’t without some small payment given in return to the Bakugous for the help—who Izuku didn’t even like very much, recoiled at the idea of sex with him?

Izuku’s brain must be fired to hell from the stress and drama because he normally wouldn’t care if some alpha— with a pair of lungs that spewed out hot magma for words—guy didn’t want to bump uglies. Izuku grew out of that phase after sophomore year; and he knew at the end of it they’re were both getting something out of this, no one entered with sentiment.

Katsuki opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of shorts. “The fuck kind of thinking is that? I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I sure as fuck ain’t letting you fuck me. So I would fuck you, but I’m not cause this isn’t a fuckin’ soap drama, dumbass.”

Oh, so now Izuku was so unworthy to put his dick in Katsuki’s butt—it was okay. This was okay. They’re going to divorce once things settle down.



“Not. Sex. Gezz.” Temper curbed, Izuku said with sweetness so artificial, it could pass for corn syrup. “…I was only asking because we don’t smell like each other and we might need to smell like that.”

Katsuki let the elastic snap to his protruding hip bones. “We’re not sleeping together. Outside we act the part. Here, we’re strangers. You know the deal, the fuck you trying to do with this getting along bullshit.”

“You don’t have to be so difficult about this, okay?”

“I can be whatever the fuck I want.” Katsuki stripped his socks off one by one, balled them straight into the laundry hamper. He snatched one of the pillows on his bed and tucked it under his armpit. “Take the bed. We’ll rotate. I got the sofa.”


He shut the door on him, padded back down the hall to the living room where the lamps bled light through the gap right under the door.

He sighed.

Holy matrimony, huh.




Chapter Text


“Katsuki! Katsuki! Masaru grab me—“

Izuku jolted out of the poor semi-awake, semi-asleep state he tried to sedate himself in, and flipped on the light, blinking at the brightness swarming his vision.  He didn’t just imagine that, right?

His mother’s voice said somewhere with caution. “Wait, don’t do that he’ll—“

“I know how to help my own god damn son,” Mitsuki barked out.

Masaru soothed the electric airwaves with, “Okay, Mitsuki, settle.”

Mitsuki’s voice raised with suppressed tears. “Fuck, baby, baby! Baby, stay still. He’s shifting, he’s fucking shifting!”

Took a second for the pieces to get in his lap, for the lines to connect the dots—the panic between parents, the atomic blast of heat and scent like they were ground zero for a site bombing, the cries of human to drop to a guttural thing dancing somewhere between man and animal. Izuku whipped back the sheets, stripping his shorts and shirt as he slammed the door open and thundered down the hall.

Mitsuki looked different with a bare face; young, kind of a kid in some regards, exhausted the way strain parents always were. She laid Katsuki on his back in the middle of the living room, the coffee table shoved aside to make room for Katsuki’s wide body. His mother chewed on her nails, waiting to jump in, so conditioned because of him to bolt at the first sign of a seizure. Masaru tried to keep Katsuki’s movements limited; his face bulging with exertion at the effort of taming a lion strain.

Izuku’s eyes darted up and down, flashing from human to the tiger. “Put him on his stomach.”

Mitsuki jerked back, the light from the whirling ceiling fan above glossed on the wet tracks running vertically down her face. “What?”

“Do it,” he said, taking his boxer briefs off as steam undulated upward from his skin. “Hurry.”

Masaru rolled Katsuki’s convulsing body over.

Mitsuki shouted. “What are you doing?”

The ground was nearer as he shifted; the fabric the of carpet stiff under his black paws; Katsuki’s scent loud as a raging dumpster fire, kick-starting Izuku’s own ingrained alpha instinct, to flee or to attack. Izuku made a low sound as Mitsuki positioned her body over Katsuki.

“Honey,” Masaru jutted his chin for her to back up.

“Izuku’s good, right, sweetie?” His mother asked him.

Izuku chuffed at his mom to see it wasn’t a shift out of his control.

Mitsuki shuffled back, and started to crack her knuckles, redirecting her frenzied energy into anything but a punch.

Izuku walked until he was standing over Katsuki and set his weight on the back of his legs first, then his spine, and finally the rest of him. Izuku’s wide paws rested on either side of his head. Izuku sniffed the back of his neck, getting Katsuki comfortable with the sensation of his mouth being so close to such a spot of weakness. He might be out of it but one rash move could trigger a full shift.

He dragged his sandpaper tongue across his sweaty skin, tasting the salt of him,  and opened his jaws, laying the point of his canines until they dented his skin. Izuku laid there with the same semi-light pressure, only biting down harder when Katsuki thrashed underneath and made a growl of opposition.  It took fifteen minutes for Katsuki to stop writhing, for his body temperature to lower, for the whines of the lion to silence.

Mitsuki grabbed a cig out of her pack and struck a flame, throwing the color of fire on her skin as she pinched the cig between her lips and let the paper catch it. She placed her lighter in her pocket and took a drag.

“Jesus,” she made the cross.

His mother went into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. “Here,” she said, settling on the floor.

“Thank you, cher.” She took it, then averted her eyes. “Here I am getting on people to be kind and I be snapping at you.”

“It’s okay. I tended to get the same with Izuku.”

At the mention of his name, Izuku blinked over.

His mother ran her hand through his fur. “Good job, sweetie.”

“How long you thinkin’ Izuku should stay like that?” Masaru asked.

Mitsuki tipped back the glass, swallowed. “Dunno. You mind keeping there for a bit, Izuku, till we know for sure he ain’t gonna have another episode?”

Gingerly, Izuku released the lock on Katsuki’s neck and turned his head as he panted with an open mouth. He blinked once, then considered Katsuki’s hollow breaths. He sniffed him again, and decided to groom him from neck to the crown of his head.

“Shit,” Mitsuki took a sledgehammer to the silence as she laughed. “My ass is too damn old for this shit.”








They waited out an hour, all of them in the living room with the TV going to air out the emotional maelstrom that followed tense moments; Izuku didn’t have to do much to get Katsuki back to a state of calm, his weight and body heat swam Katsuki back into it. Now this alpha might be no nicer than large spiders and wasps, and this didn’t change a whole lot about what he thought of him, but you set all that noise aside for trouble. Rivaling alphas, poorly married husbands, strangers in reality; none of it mattered cause Izuku had been there. Dang, had he traversed the block quite a few times. Remembered being soaked to the bone where his insides sweated as well; being laid on the floor; clothes being in all states of torn like he tried to Hulk his way out of them; his mother crawling in bed with him and watching him fondly as he tried to sleep again, feeling safe because of her fingers through his wet hair, the way she held him like he was a diamond, how exhausted she looked the next day; how she managed to make him lunch and take him to school.

So Izuku might steal the toilet paper when Katsuki went to the John, but he would do that again. Izuku kind of had a hero concept to him, never minding his stuff and minding others. He would mind this.  

Masaru helped Izuku carry Katsuki to his bedroom and watched the beta pull the sheets up to Katsuki’s bare shoulders, the hand pushing back his blond hair; Mitsuki was all color—he wasn’t speaking purely about her clothes, the layers of makeup, instead he meant her personality. She talked, yelled, shouted, laughed like someone melted down a box of crayons and make them into bullets. You knew the instant she liked or hated something, no front; no reserves. Masaru let out small teaspoons of his emotions.

Here was a teaspoon of it and Izuku felt improper viewing like a specter. Yea, Katsuki had nails for teeth but he had trails too. Izuku resorted to boxing in and giving people the benefit of doubt; Katsuki built a tank within himself.

Izuku picked his clothes up and dressed, deciding he would sleep in the living room.

Mitsuki sat on the sofa; fixed up some but there were deep dark circles under her honey eyes. Tendrils of smoke slithered from the glowing red tip of her cigarette.  “Thanks for back there, with Katsuki.”

He sat with her, sinking fast into the cushions like quicksand. “I had to help.”

“You two started off on the wrong foot,” she said.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try to help him. Jerk or not.”

Mitsuki messed with her hair, smoking quietly, then asked with a raspy voice. “How’d you know that would work, the neck thing?”

“I mean, we’re cats if you think about it and some people online said for strain like that if you put pressure on the neck, they’ll go limp kinda like how kittens do when the mom picks them up,” he said; the discovery came way later when he started experiencing fewer and fewer episodes though and no one around him had the strain, neither of his parents, so it wasn’t as though he could test the theory out but it came to him the moment he realized Katsuki was having an episode. He lucked out, really, on the wild assumption, and the even bull madder faith that Katsuki wouldn't fully shift right under him and claw him to pieces. “So I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

Izuku felt awkward, cause it was the most natural thing for him to do—to help; he didn’t think you thank people for doing right as it should be an ingrained response, but you saw quick through the years not everyone operated by those morals. “It’s nothing really.”

Mitsuki tapped the excess ash of her cigarette into the ceramic ashtray; the glass clinked as she set it down on the nightstand. She touched her lips absentmindedly, the way people did when they thought their body wasn’t moving but in fact worked on routine habits. “I don’t know how much your momma told you about Katsuki but he had—well,” Mitsuki snorted, but it was typecast with betterment and resentment, “has a lot of health issues.”

Nothing new there; anyone born with a strain had a lengthy file of health issues. It was a common fact by this point and a lot of effort went into the medical field to help those with the strain specifically. That hadn’t been the case for so long, no one took issue with alphas, omegas, and betas emerging but people who could take the shape of an animal naturally. People with the strain were condemned and ridiculed for so long; the world terrified of what they could do, of the unprecedented threat they presented to the public, whether they belonged with normal kids in school, if they shared any of the violence predicted in fiction novels and movies that cast shifters in a violent, borderline bloodthirsty light

So for a short time, people with the strain were dying fast, babies managed a few years, they shifted uncontrollably and often times went out in the street where people confused them for animals and shot them on sight, or they attacked someone and ended up in prison for assault and homicide because the justice system at the time didn’t want to see humanity in people like them.

Public outcry got the change to come through Congress. Soon there was practices and specialties in the strain, medication, therapy for people affected and those living with an infected loved one. People with the strain were still prosecuted harshly compare to humans, omegas, and betas but it was an enormous difference from before. People were living longer, being able to function and live independently, some even recovered fully and went through the rest of their lives with none of the symptoms.

Izuku was almost considered recovered, experiencing only a few of the symptoms erratically through the years, but those nights when he was in so much pain that the very marrow in his bone throbbed with aches, when his body convulsed uncontrollably on the floor as his mother cried above him trying to keep Izuku pinned, when he popped pills religiously, they weren't gone. Not in his head.

“I saw the scar on his chest,” he said; it snagged his attention obviously, there had to be a history with it and he hoped Mitsuki didn’t see it as him intruding beyond the set boundaries.

“Yup,” she agreed; looking at the floor like it had a picture from the past in the stitching.  “Born with a very weak heart,” she said. So much passed at hyper speed on her face, Izuku couldn’t name what arrived first, second, or last; but that they were entrenched deep.

 “You know when I had him they told me not to hold my breath because there was a good chance he would die young considering how hard it is to get a heart transplant. They knew we were pretty low income too at the time.”

He covered his mouth as he gaped. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

She thumbed her nose, an alpha’s determination hardening her. “Nothing's gonna fuel a mother more than someone telling you to give up on your kid. I got knocked up young, dropped out of high school, you know that whole story. I got my shit together for him.”

“Married Masaru, who begged me over and over for us to hitch but I saw how shit like that turned out. I didn’t wanna have a guy I fucking hated being around me and my kid, but—fuck—I was 18, my daddy passed way back in elementary school, then my mom dipped. My granny raised me and my sister. She was fuckin’ barely managing me and the pack and we weren’t that big like now. I couldn’t fuck around. The second that little fuck trophy came out my vagina, I fuckin’ knew, like how animal moms just get filled with love and shit, I knew that kid was the love of my fuckin’ life. People say you won’t love anyone more than your kids, and that shit so damn true, damn true.”

Izuku smiled. It kind of explained Katsuki’s tough as nail personality with a mother so damn strong and determined and with people betting against him. It didn’t pass him on acting like a living dick but it made it a little easier to get why he was a massive cockhead.

“So we got hitched. Very ghetto mind you. No ceremony. My granny wanted one but we was paying on the hospital bill when I had him. I was off her health insurance at the time, guessed someone at the company took me off and never made a call so I had him with none at the time.”

Izuku winced.

“Oh yea. It was a total shitshow. I worked as a waitress. Made awful tips because you know, fucking alphas wanna play ‘I’ll alpha you out your panties’. Or they wanna try grabbing your ass or looking down your blouse, or for you to smile. Like the fuck, eat your shit and go. Why does my smile matter—ugh, sorry. Off track. But uh, I went to Masaru and I told him straight out the deal. Said we can try something but that Katsuki was in a spot and I couldn’t do that shit alone.”

She laughed. “Masaru fuckin’ didn’t give a shit that I treated his ass like dirt and dipped on him. Fuckin’ balled his eyes out the first time he saw Katsuki. And like that man don’t cry for shit. He can watch ‘Old Yeller’ and not cry. He did LSD and acid and said it was okay. That man is blanker than sheets.”

“Gotta say, ain’t no better man out there. At some point we got on the list. He had two surgeries. One at seven, then the other at fifteen. We’re hoping that last heart last him a good while.”

Izuku listened in silence; understanding at least part of Mitsuki’s troubles. His chronic health issues put his family in a spot for a long while. They weren’t really low income—Izuku had presents under the tree, he could get most of the toys and clothes he wanted, and trips to museums and zoos happened annually until his father started up about it being a waste of money then they went every two years him and his mom. No one planned for strain kids; they just happened to you and half the time the parents weren’t ready for the economic struggle or the emotional one.

She clapped his kneecap, squeezing it to get Izuku to bring his eyes up off the carpet. She was so soft without the makeup, the crazy hair; natural; the resemblance between her and Katsuki, while very apparent, seemed more so now. “So when I say what you did mean a lot to me, you get me, right?”


Mitsuki hitched her long legs on the coffee table after she swiped a second drag from the carton and flicked another flame with her pink lighter. “I wasn’t sure about y’all, honestly,” she admitted; Izuku heard the hiss of the flame bursting to life; she pursed her lips and exhaled like a dragon. “But that proved you’re good people. So when push comes to shove, we gonna back you and Inko up.”

“Thank you.”

She puffed out smoke clouds. “He’ll grow on you.”

Izuku laughed in disbelief; the one kind of growth he thought possible for him and Katsuki was a parasitic kind, where one bug used the inner body of another to burrow its eggs. “I think every word out my mouth has pissed him off.”

Not to mention at least half of the words form Katsuki’s mouth directed at him didn’t make Izuku a fan either.

She waved that off, touching the line of her jaw. “Everything pisses that kid off. He’s just one of dem people. Got a lot of rough edges. Just buff dem out and you see the sparkly shit underneath…Sorry my husband told me that shit on our first date.”

“It’s sweet.”

“I thought so. That’s why I blew him.”

What was it with Bakugous and their unapologetic, raunchy bluntness with sex? “Oh my god.”

She laughed; it was deep a rasp of a long time smoker. “You better start getting used to this cause this entire family is a bunch of degenerates.”

“I’ll try.”

“Well,” Mitsuki tapped out his half-smoked cigarette, “I’ll you get some sleep, then, sugar. Been a night.”

“Yea. ”








Izuku lifted his face from where he smashed it into the soft pillow as the whiff of brewed coffee tingled his nose. Mitsuki had the morning light behind her back. “Hey, morin’, sugar. Ya momma said you a fan of coffee.”

Izuku took the paint-stained mug with the label of Daffy Duck peeling at the corners. He blew air on it and sipped gingerly. “Oh, thank you.”

“There’s some breakfast in the kitchen. Basic shit like eggs, toast, and bacon. Still warm; Katsuki whipped it up ten minutes ago.”

Izuku sat on the sofa and rubbed his eyes. “He cooks.”

Mitsuki took the sheet he used last night to sleep in and snapped it out, picking one end up to connect it with the other. “Oh fuck yea,” she squared the sheet again. “First thing I taught his punk ass when he could manage not to stick his fingers in his nose or on his dick.  Speaking of—hey shithead, take the trash out before you go.”

Through the walls, Izuku heard Katsuki grumble loudly,  ”Fucking on my ass all the damn time.”

Izuku some private amusement from the easy power Mitsuki had on Katsuki; as big and buffy as he was he still had normal weaknesses like Izuku, their mothers.

Mitsuki set the folded sheet on the armrest, and slipped a carton from the back of her jean shorts, talked with a cig in her mouth. Izuku heard the plastic crinkle of the trash. “Hey, I didn’t say you could be going anywhere.”

Katsuki strutted in, dropping bombs with his feline heat, with the garbage bag in one hand. Comparatively to the first time, it wasn’t that unsettling. Poignant, but he started to realize Katsuki’s scent was naturally stronger than most alphas. So Izuku could manage a conversation without wanting to shift and let off his own scent to compensate.

“You want me to throw this shit or not, woman?” He snapped, hefting the heavy bag with one hand. He put own loose basketball shorts and a white tank top so worn through it was transparent where it stretched over Katsuki’s broad chest.

“Yea,” she paused, ashed off her cigarette, then inclined her head at Izuku. “But don’t you got something you should say or do to someone?”

“I’m not fucking kissing him again,” Katsuki said.

Izuku rolled back the alpha in his voice. “…I’m right here, could you please not talk like I’m not here?”

“Fine.” He glared at him directly.  Said, “I’m not fucking kissing you again. Better?”

His teeth would go dull with all the grinding he did.

Izuku thought he should mention, “Well, I wouldn’t want you to kiss me either.”


Don’t be petty, don’t be petty, don’t be— “Great.”

…Thanks, alpha; no really, let’s fan the inferno.

Physically incapable of surviving without the last word being his own, Katsuki said. “You suck at kissing anyway,”

Well, if they were going to be real about one another’s kissing ability, then Izuku should throw out there, “You put too much tongue.”

Wait, that might’ve been Izuku right? Crap. Well, He couldn’t remember but someone’s wet hot something licked somewhere in that atomic bomb kiss and Izuku would rather not go through the flashback to figure out who did it and it would make him look like an idiot if he went back on the comment so…Yea, blame Katsuki; sounded good, right?

Like who even brought up kissing, huh? Not Izuku that was for certain! No sir, he had no business in or around Katsuki’s fat, dumb alpha mouth.

“Bitch, you wish I gave you tongue.”

“Like I would want your tongue!”

“So you want it; ha, typical.”

“No. Get the wax outta your ear, I said that ironically.”

“Your face is ironic.”

“What—that—you make no sense,” he vented.  “I’m starting to believe common sense doesn’t very much like you, Katsuki Bakugou, since it keeps running from you.”

“You saying I’m stupid, stupid?”

“I’m saying you ain’t too bright.”

“Alright.” Mitsuki ordered, tone calming the flaring alphas; Izuku reflexively lowered his head;  Katsuki backed up and it became clear to Izuku that the whole time Katsuki was slowly moving into his personal bubble, “Both of yall need to mind your own pride. Now it ain’t ideal but it’s the situation we have and you two gotta get along. I ain’t asking for you two to be holding hands.”

Izuku stared at the carpet; dang it sucked to be in the wrong especially with someone so caustic but Izuku was no better of an alpha, latching easily to the challenge. Maybe the bridge between them could be made if someone learned to back down—and being frank, we all knew that someone wasn’t Katsuki so…

“Okay,” Izuku pushed off the sofa, and walked to the alpha, trying not to engage in challenging eye contact. Doing what he saw on TV, he tried to hug out the animosity; Katsuki endured it like it was a hug from the reaper and stood stiff as a tree.

 “Sorry,” Izuku said after he let go, figuring someone had to say it and chances ranked high it would be him and probably only him. “And good morning, by the way, uh, hubby?”

It failed fabulously judging by the scowl on Katsuki’s diamond pretty face.

Why in the world would he think that was the thing you said to Katsuki—the alpha who got riled up if the wind blew in his direction? Dumb as nails, Izuku, you as dumb as rusted nails.

“Hubby;” he tested, worked the word around his mouth like cough medicine, wrinkling his god awful handsome face into a face that should be by law gross but managed to be still as grossly as attractive; and Izuku wouldn’t say if there was a God or not, who knew; not him, don’t ask Izuku, but…But to look good no matter the facial expression was nothing short of devil work and Katsuki had a shrine to the devil and devoted his mind and soul to it. “If you want your balls connected to your dick you won’t call me that, Deku.”

With how often Katsuki threatened him, Izuku would have an immunity by now. “Izuku.”

“I think Deku’s better.”

Mitsuki coughed, motioned in Izuku’s direction once Katsuki glared over. “You ain’t leaving without thanking him for last night.”

Katsuki lowered his eyes minutely to the carpet, had them up before Izuku could miss their penny shimmer, and said, “…Yea.”

“Katsuki,” Mitsuki spoke with ‘big alpha’ in her tone.

Katsuki huffed. “Thanks. Or whatever.”

Izuku crossed his arms around his stomach. It was the most sincere thing he’d heard from Katsuki so he wouldn’t push him for more. They were sort of in this together, and the faster they learned to set aside the animal and the alpha the better they would be if trouble sniffed around.  “It’s no trouble. We’re—I’m glad I could help.”

Katsuki distanced himself physically. “Whatever, can I fucking go now or do you want me to suck him off too?”

Izuku’s ears went red at the suggestion.

Mitsuki had less of a reaction to it,  laughing. “Hey, what you boys do to each other sexually is yall business.”

“Oh,” Katsuki deadpanned. “I forgot I was supposed to laugh.”

“Hey,” she called, “You coming back?”

“I got shit to do with the guys,” he said before letting the screen door slammed on the threshold behind him.

“Did something happen?” Izuku asked when she huffed in annoyance.

“We gotta register you because of your strain.”


“Sorry, sugar. We’ll get in trouble for you for sure. And we gotta put in the paperwork to make this thing official.”

“No, no. That’s alright. It slipped my mind.”

“Yea, sheriff around these parts are kinda strict about this shit. And I did forget to register a few people.” She shrugged when Izuku whipped his head back. “Government likes to put a bullseye on ya if your pack deep with the strain. Plus they wanna be raising the rent and fees for people too, and a lot of pack members here don’t got the dough to shell out that shit.”

“Yea. Our stuff was kinda high too in the city cause of my strain.”

“Well, it won’t be as bad here. Poor as dirt in these parts.”







Eijirou caught Katsuki as he lifted the lid for the trash in a shirt with the sleeves hacked off with cheap scissors.

“So, married, huh?” He teased. “You guys pork last night? I didn’t hear no noises coming from your side.”

Katsuki dumped the lid. “Are you stupid?”

“I like to think I’m of average intelligence. A C kind of guy. Passing by. Ain’t making ripples in the ocean.”

He rolled his eyes,  and walked to make rounds on the trailer park. Now as fucking dumb as that sounded, it comforted the lion to sniff out the perimeter. “Of course we didn’t fuck.”

“But you’re married? You’re in love right? Don’t you want to bang the guy you love?”

Katsuki looked around them, then yanked Eijirou behind the bark of a maple tree. He spoke with secrecy.  “I fucking met him just yesterday and don’t fucking run that anywhere,” he warned.  “Everyone’s supposed to be thinkin’ we in love or something.”

Eijirou’s nose wrinkled in thought. “But why you hitched up to a guy, a alpha you don’t love? “

He shrugged; his mom offered the details but Katsuki blocked it out once he heard the money amount. It  Deku’s problems were his own unless they came knocking on his home. “He’s got trouble, I guess,” he said, walking again.

“Green card trouble?”

“Pack trouble. They paid us so yea.”

Eijirou tapped his shoulder. “Dude.”


“Your marriage is a rom-com movie, haha. Like ‘The Proposal’, you know with Ryan Reynolds. But she had green card trouble, and Ryan was like a scrub in the company. So I guess Izuku’s Sandra and you’re Ryan.”

Katsuki scowled. “I’m your future big alpha, maybe you shouldn’t piss me off.”

“But then what else would I do all day?”

“I dunno, have a fucking brain. I know, a wild idea for you.”

Eijirou laughed. “You keep me humble. You know, I guess given the situation, it coulda been worst. He’s actually a nice dude, and kinda smart too like you. And like, I’m not like into dudes, but he’s darn cute.”

Katsuki jerked to a stop. He didn’t need to hear to shit after last night. To have a fucking damn episode and then for Izuku, the alpha he didn’t trust or didn’t know that well, to see him taken down to such a weakened state and then to have that same alpha ease Katsuki safer and faster out of it than any time before that—it bruised. So nah; he would not look on the bright side. He would not think Izuku was nice, smart or cute; all debateable facts cause that dude had a fucking tongue on him when he wanted.

“Jesus, do you want to be his husband because that shit is open to everyone.”

“Ah, be ice, dude. He’s probably just all riled up you know, everyone’s new, he’s not the big alpha anymore, you are. Gotta suck a bit. So what’s the deal with him?”

They walked past Yamada’s trailer where he had the windows cracked and ‘Eye of the Tiger’ blasting as he lifted weights. “Some shit with his dad and their old pack, I guess. It’s not my problem.”

“Well, yea, it is. You’re married to him.”

“Look we’re just protection or whatever. Our pack is bigger than theirs. We got me to bring the heat. Ain’t no one coming for him with my ass around.”


He rolled his eyes. “Not like that, jackass. I don’t give a fuck about him. I’m doing it for my ma, and the cash.”

“Cash? If y’all are struggling then I can—“

“No,” he said, gritting his teeth at the sad lines pulling at Eijirou’s lips.

“Bro, we’re pack.”

“Look, I’m little alpha. Pack doesn’t help little alpha, I help the pack, so keep your fucking money and buy that stupid ring for Mina already cause your folks are gonna get wise that you two get each other off  in their car.”

“Aw,” Eijirou cooed.


“Marriage made you sweet as apple pie,” he teased.

“You’re fucking dog shit.”

“Did ya happen to notice Neito didn’t show?”

Katsuki kicked a pebble into the side of someone’s house, the rock bounced off the trailer home where the seasons and the years began to erode at the paint and stripped the pastel yellow paint away. “Yea. He and Romero. Fuck those guys, they can fucking be like that right now but once my ass is big alpha I ain’t taking their shit.”

“Dude, don’t take it that far, you know.”

“I ain’t, they are—“

“Katsuki.” Katsuki’s face pinched in pain; he didn’t turn, kept walking.

Eijirou blew their cover, looking back. “Dude, your mom’s calling you.”


“We’re going to the city to register your husband,” she shouted across the trailer park.


“No, dumbass, you have to go!”

Fuck; he married him, wasn’t that enough for her? Now they had to be like, a couple? The fuck?

Katsuki didn’t have anything to drink, smoke, or drive his fist into so he kind of groaned loudly to express some of his anger. “Man,” Eijirou put his hands in his pockets. “This whole situation just got a lot more funkier, huh.”

“Your commentary? I don’t need it.”








“Mitsuki,” an officer greeted at the courthouse front desk in uniform with a hat to keep the sun out of his eyes; got some weight around his gut to the point it pressed on his button-up shirt slightly. “Katsuki,” he said next with blatant distaste; it didn’t surprise him to know Katsuki made enemies out of law enforcement too. The officer’s black tired eyes fell on them next. “New, right?”

His mother extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Inko Midoriya. This is my son, Izuku.”

“Aizawa. Sheriff,” he said, dropping his hands to his black belt.

Katsuki stretched and coughed into his fist, “Douchebag.”

Mitsuki snickered with her son.

“The charm of the Bakugous,” Aizawa drawled; familiar with the behavior. “I would be wise and keep your boy very far from Katsuki. He likes trouble.”

Well, too late for that.

“Oh, they’re married,” his mother chirped.

“Excuse me?”

“We had a beautiful wedding last night, right Izuku?”

Why was she asking him; that was a flat out lie and you shouldn’t lie to law enforcement. “Uh. Uh-huh. Yep. What she said.”

“That’s…well, I guess the world really is going to shit if Katsuki Bakugou can find a person.”

Katsuki straightened out of his slouch. “What the fuck did you say?”

Aizawa checked Izuku up and down; went on a scavenger hunt for flaws. “Got a smell on ya, huh, got the strain?”

Izuku felt himself a target; kept his head low unsure on Aizawa’s personal feelings on people with the strain. Some took to it fine; others viewed it as a unmonitored bomb. “Uh. Yea.”

“And you let these two kids hitched up?”

Mitsuki cocked her head; golden hair manipulated into a towering beehive. “Like they can have kids,” she said.

“No. But you be skipping on your strain roster.”

“What,” she gasped dramatically.

“I’ll have an eye on you,” Aizawa warned, whether it applied to Izuku, or Katsuki, or Katsuki and Izuku, he wasn’t too sure and he thought Aizawa might take it as sass if he asked him to clarify who got the ‘eye’.

Aizawa tipped his hat in goodbye, an action Izuku seen only in Westerns, and went on his way.

“He seems nice,” his mother commented.

“He’s a beta asshole,” Katsuki said. “Be sticking his nose in alpha shit all the time.

Mitsuki said, flipping through the paperwork.  “You think that cause he arrested you. Sign here. Izuku, sugar, you sign there.”

Here I go, signing my soul away to an douchebag, he thought, printing his name in illegible cursive.

The clerk returned and stamped their sheet, lively as a living, breathing corpse as she droned, voice monotone, “Congratulations, in the eyes of God and that state of Louisiana, you’re married.” Katsuki and Izuku looked at each other; the hammer of the stamp as volumous as thunder over a valley.

The clerk scrunched her nose, snorting snot into a tissue and balled it within her stumpy brown spotted fingers. She grabbed the paperwork and tapped it on the counter. “Enjoy the honeymoon,” she croaked; the alphas ripped their eyes off each other to her.  “It’s all downhill after that.”

Izuku gulped; what a pleasant outlook on love and marriage.

“Well that’s kind of depressing,” his mother said.

Mitsuki lit up a cigarette while looking at the ‘no smoking sign’ and at the overweight security guard who lifted his newspaper so he wouldn’t have to get up and intervene. One mother of two, still youthful and with that gold lust for life before the real world drained it dry, coughed into her hand and spoke aloud about people who died from smoking were asking for it and no one should feel bad for them.

The clerk looked dryly. “Lady, I file the same number paperwork for divorces as I do marriages.  Couples who were tied at the hips, were then the couples who fucked other people in their homes and slashed the other’s tires. Now would you step aside, there are people behind you and my lunch is in fifteen minutes.” The clerk motioned rudely to his mother to walk away from the counter and slammed her hand, calling, “Next!”

“She’s…” his mother thought of a polite word to call such a impolite person.

“A bitch,” Mitsuki coughed. “Don’t mind it; everyone knows after her hubby ran for a younger omega that she kinda closed the shop.”

“What’s your excuse?” Katsuki asked.

“You, that’s my excuse.”







“Hey we’re gonna run to the store for a few things,” Mitsuki said, walking past the car parked at the curb of a line of stores.

Izuku redirected his path from the car to the glass store front and hovered by the automatic doors, smiling awkwardly as people walked out and spotted him.

Katsuki, who already had the key in the driver door and a hand on the roof, groaned. “Ugh.”

“Quit your bitching. We’ll be quick.” She snapped her fingers, strolled in; Katsuki got a cart automatically and trailed behind his mother.

“Yea, that’s a fuckin’ lie. Ain’t never quick.”

Izuku walked beside Katsuki as he leaned his elbows on the plastic covered handlebars; the wheels occasionally screeched on turned or acted uncooperative, getting a grunt and a shove from Katsuki as he bitched about the crap quality. He seemed…more tolerable today if you based it off last night though it was by a very minuscule margin; Katsuki had the impeccable talent of turning everything into an argument and it was a bit astounding to know a guy could be so combative for hours on end.

Maybe this would be easier if he was an omega; alphas were more or less biologically inclined towards omegas, geared by instincts to protect and nurture. His alpha could be too wild, too true to it that it was lashing at the mixed signals. Married to an alpha when everything else said it should be an omega.

Or maybe Izuku lost at the start; the issue being just him and the way their contrasting personalities conflicted. Izuku liked to avoid physical altercations when he could, though there would be that irreversible part of him that wanted it; Izuku, on the whole, talked things out first.

Izuku didn’t hear the squeaking whine of the cart and realized Katsuki was tensing in the refrigerated dairy aisle. He smelled it; alphas. Emphasis on the plural part.

Izuku grabbed one end of the cart; their metaphorical carts were hitched now so Katsuki was partially his responsibility and if the alpha happened upon trouble faster than mold on fruit then he needed to be there to maintain the peace and the faces of everyone involved.

An alpha; a near six-footer, crew cut black hair, and muscles wider and bigger than Katsuki’s strolled with a pack, two twenty-four cases of Budweiser in his hands. He smiled like a hyena; swaying from mocking to friendly. “Well shit fire,” he howled. “I must be dreaming cause I am seeing something in my wildest dreams. Katsuki hitched to a fuckin’ alpha.”

Izuku felt he could bend the metal of the cart with his bare hands.

Katsuki’s spine rolled, smooth, straight and rolled his shoulders deliberately; fronting. “Inasa.”

Crap; he was supposed to be coolheaded here; the voice of calm and Katsuki had a better handle on it than him.

Still playing up the act, Inasa rubbed his mouth. “My stars.”

Katsuki walked, distance healthy between him and Inasa for a throw to happen. “Alright, you saw what you wanted, huh, yea. You see me. You see him. There. Piss off to your little shithole.”

“Now that ain’t polite, we all live in a shithole. We’re all trailer trash here,” he said. “Some of us ain’t too bothered to admit it.”

“I ain’t bothered, I just ain’t that.”

“When you living in a house, man, then you can talk. But for now, we’re all trash kings.”

“You about done?” Katsuki said, didn’t wait for the reply before he kicked the cart and motioned Izuku to keep on walking.

“Hey now, hey now,” another alpha joined it, lean and tall, with hard cheekbones to rival Ryan Reynolds. “Don’t go off. Introduce us, we’re practically neighbors. Unless Katsuki’s the real alpha in this and you’re just the omega here.”

“It ain’t your business, Twice,” Katsuki said at the precise second Izuku’s alpha answered, “Izuku Midoriya.”

Inasa cradled his belly as he laughed. “Well shitfire, he’s got balls, fellas. Seeing as you is a big old alpha, you won’t mind joining us.”

Katsuki said, “Leave it.”

“For?” Izuku asked.

“Would you shut the fuck up?”

“No,” Izuku said.

“Just a bit of friendly fronting,” Inasa said, “You know, just shit alphas do. You front, right? You like being a bit of an alpha now and again?”

Izuku could sense he was being tested. “Sure.”

Katsuki flung one arm, then stormed away. “Motherfucker.”

Inasa pointed his finger. “Now you got me mighty curious, Izuku, mighty curious. We’ll be seeing you, tiger.”