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echoisbabe · 3 years

Text

Don’t be scared

Omega and The bad batch

This was requested and the request can be found here. Again, I don’t have much experience with writing werewolves. I hope everyone that reads enjoys :)

The pain that shoots through Omega causes her jaw to clench tightly, her fisted hand hitting the rough dirt. Her body trembles as it expands to a size she’s not yet comfortable with. Her now clawed hand digs into the dirt tearing it apart easily. She throws her hand back as a scream of pure agony rips out her throat turning into a howl that could be heard for miles.

Hunter and the group stop. All glancing at each other the same thought in each of their minds. Hoping Omega is safe and whatever is out here with her hasn’t sunken it’s teeth into her. Hunter kneels down his gloved hand picking up dirt, he sniffs it as his eyes spot her little shoe prints.

“Tech I want to know every creature that is on this planet now!” Hunter shots as Tech begins tapping away on his data pad

“She can’t have gone far” Echo tries to reassure everyone “she could be up in a tree waiting for us to save her” he adds as he watches Hunter stand

“I’ll kill whatever gets in our way, Hunter, and if anything tries to hurt her-“ Wrecker pauses “I should have kept a better eye on her” he shakes his head, it kills him that he let her slip out, yes he thought being left behind on a supply run was boring and having to watch Omega wasn’t ideal but he did his best

“Come on, we have to get to her before anything happens to her” Hunter pushes back the rude remark he wanted to make, it’s not anyone’s fault, after all kids find trouble wherever they are

Omega shakes her sweat from her body as she sits back on her hind legs. She looks around the forest and smiles. It wasn’t as dark as when she first ran out of the ship. She’d easily find her way back now. Sitting around the ship waiting for the sun to come up sounds better than being caught by some hunters lurking in the woods.

She would have start now. Knowing the howl she had let out marked her location easily. She lets her clawed hands fall to the ground. Letting out a groan as she stretches her aching body before turning to see Hunter standing before her, the others pushing past the bushes and her eyes widened.

“Hunter?” She whispers lowly “I-I can explain” she shifts back on to her hind legs hands flying up showing that she means them no harm

Echo looks to Hunter before looking to Tech. His fingers flying over his data pad as he looks from the werewolf to Tech. He’s sure he’s looking over all of Omegas DNA again. Trying to find something he missed and he looks back to Hunter who happens to be reaching back for his blade. He rushes forward stopping Hunter.

“Lets hear it out, for all we know that could be Omega, it sounds like her, doesn’t it?” Echo looks over at it and he smiles softly “explain” he says

Omega blinks as she thinks of where to start. The beginning seemed the best. She begins to explain that she had been roaming around Kamino when she heard someone in trouble and since she had experience with helping injured clones she went to help. What she didn’t expect to see was a man transforming and in his transformation he had bitten her on the arm. She ran from the room as fast as she could, bleeding. She patched herself up and the clone had found her to explain what happened and how she will suffer the same fate as he does.

“That would explain why I didn’t notice it in her DNA” Tech is the first to speak as he lowers his data pad to look over at Hunter

Hunter is deep in thought. He doesn’t know what to say. He looks over at Omega, her arms wrapped around herself. Her sad eyes are on him. He looks behind him to the others, searching their eyes for any sign that they don’t believe the thing that’s supposed to be Omega. He lowers his head as he lets out a shaky breath.

He slowly inches his foot out. He should comfort her, he knows this but right now everything is unpredictable. For all he knows this is a trick. He wants to believe this is Omega, he really does. He takes another hesitant step forward, Echo’s hand falls off his shoulder and he looks to his brother just as Wrecker shoves past everyone.

“You’re still Omega too me” Wrecker bellows as he walks over lifting the small werewolf from the ground.

Echo follows as Tech nudges Hunter, knowing that Hunter means so much to Omega that his approval would mean the world to her. He shoves every thought to the back of his mind as he walks over, he holds his arms up taking Omega into his arms and holds her against him, his face presses into her furry shoulder as her body relaxes against him.

“I’m sorry Hunter” she cries “I didn’t know how to tell you”

“It’s okay Omega, you’re still one of us” he whispers. Omega smiles. Feeling safe wrapped up in Hunters arms.

Omega can’t believe it. All of them accepted it. She smiles at her friends and they all gather around wrapping their arms around her. She wants to cry feeling the love of each one swell in her chest. They begin the walk back to the ship as Omega runs around. Hunter keeps a watchful eye out not wanting any trouble to come.

Once back at the ship Hunter sits down on the ground next to Omega. They both look up at the stars and he asks her many questions on how it feels to be what she is. She explains every and more as best she could. His arm wraps around her as she yawns and he lets her settle her head in his lap as he runs a hand through her soft fur.

“I’ll keep you safe Omega, get some sleep” Hunter pats her shoulder and she laughs

“Can I go out running instead?” She asks lifting her head to look over at Hunter and he nods

“Don’t go far, I’ll keep an eyes out” Hunter smiles as she wraps him in a hug before taking off

Hunter stays out listening to her run around, hearing her howls as she goes. He know she’s probably able to take care of herself but he wants to say so that she feels safe. He turns to see the other come tumbling down the stairs of the ship to come sit with him. He nods as Tech sits down beside him.

“Did you still want to know every creature here?” Tech asks as he holds his data pad up and Hunter shakes his head as he looks back out into the bush seeing Omega run by and he smiles

#clone wars imagine #star wars imagine #tbb imagines #tbb tech imagine #tbb echo imagine #tbb Hunter imagine #tbb wrecker imagine #sergeant hunter imagines #arc trooper echo imagine #clone trooper wrecker imagine #the bad batch imagine

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keepswingin · 3 years

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The dungeon is dark and dank, rats festering in the corners her lantern’s light doesn’t reach.

The bottom of her nightgown drags across slick stone and she startles far too easily when she accidentally steps in a shallow puddle, water sloshing in an echo around her.

A ragged growl escapes from the deep folds of utter darkness in front of her at the sudden noise, and she lifts her light higher before she can stop herself, racing heart settling once more when she’s greeted by the proud seal of her family’s royal crest. It sits heavily in the middle of the twisted iron of the first cage she sees, squared awkwardly to the wall so that four other cages fit alongside it, Where everything else in the dungeon itself is decaying, the crest shines, and for the first time ever in her life, she thinks she doesn’t care what it stands for.

Described in the crest is, after all, her great-great grandfather slaying an untamable beast, long sword sticking proudly out of a deflated chest, a flag raised high into the air behind him, the entire imagine encased by a half-risen sun, signaling the end of a dark war-torn century.

And here, in this very room somewhere, sits one of the captured leaders of their forever sworn enemy.

Her stomach churns, urging her to turn back, reminding her of her duties as a queen-to-be, but she shoves the uncomfortable feelings aside, and begins to approach the first chiseled cage.

Inside is a skeleton, hands still outstretched toward the closed door, as if they had died begging to someone - or something - outside of it. She straightens her spine as she moves onto the next, which is bare of anything at all, and then to the third. Chains hang from the ceiling sporting heavy shackles, and the door is opened, as if waiting for it’s next victim, but otherwise the small section is clear.

She turns to move to the fourth cage, one away from the furthest wall from the spiraling stairs she had descended, and freezes in her tracks when she sees bright yellow watching her from the dark.

She knows it’s eyes, she knows what’s behind those eyes, and she knows what she’s learned from the stories she had grown up with, but even with all that knowledge beside her, she still decides to take a breath, and then to continue walking.

The eyes don’t blink once as they watch her approach, and she doesn’t falter as she comes to a stop in front of his cage, lifting the light so that she can see what awaits her inside.

There’s new cuts and gashes spattered across the expanse of his open skin, covering intricate lines of body markings she’s only ever seen inked onto paper. They’re beautiful up close, careful lines and detailed pieces of history and family that a crest could never compare to. His shirt is ripped, one shoulder bare, and his pants are scuffed, caked with mud and dried blood. A line of twine hangs around his neck, but what rests on it is hidden beneath his shirt. His hair is matted to the front of his forehead, white slashing through dark brown, and his eyes are piercing when she meets them again, but she doesn’t back down.

This was where her curiosity had led her, and so far her hunch wasn’t wrong. Something wasn’t right about the history books, or the pictures that had shown gaping mouths and sharp teeth, furry snouts and claws longer than swords.

Because, from where she was standing, this werewolf was looking far more human than he should’ve been.

“How badly are you hurt?”

Surprisingly, her voice comes out strong. She’s proud of that. Those yellow eyes continue to watch her, analyzing, deciding, and she dares to take a step closer. Yellow flickers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she says, taking another step, “I’m sorry they did what they did to you in the square.”

(“Behold!” her parents’ squire had gloated, “As our King has captured the leader of the beasts!”

Cheers had erupted from the crowds around them, her father looking among his people proudly before turning around and grabbing the foreclaimed beast from his royal knights waiting behind him. He had shoved him forward, his knees digging into the ground as he had fallen, growling and fighting loudly all the while.

The chain around his neck had dug enough into skin to be bleeding, fat rivulets of blood soaking through the furs of his ancestors, the vest of a leader. She had thought the sowing to be pretty when she had first seen it, and then her father, as kind of a man as he was cruel, had torn the sacred material from his shoulders, and then had it set ablaze beside him.

The roars of the crowd had drowned out the keening roar of the beast.)

“That…wasn’t right.” She reaches out and wraps a hand around the bars, blue eyes still clashing with brilliant yellow. “I—“

Before she can think of saying another word, a hand is wrapped around her throat. Short claws dig into her skin, not enough to cause any real damage, but just enough to be a threat. Yellow eyes bore into her, burning with anger, sadness…fear. A soft growl tears from the wolf’s throat, tampering off into words.

“You smell important,” he says, his voice deep, haggard from disuse. “Like that man who burned lifetimes of history for the likes of a crowd.”

She’s calmer than she’d thought she would be, her breathing even despite the strong hand that could snap her neck in two without so much as breaking a sweat. Her thirst for the truth is stronger than she gives it credit it for.

“It was wrong of him to do that,” she agrees quietly, keeping still. He watches her for a moment, and then seems to grow angry, his hold tightening the slightest bit.

“Who are you?” he snarls, fangs shining in the lamplight. She hadn’t planned to share exactly who she was when she had come up with this idea to sneak down here and talk to him, and she could just lie, but something inside of her told her not to. Something inside of her told her that if he wanted her dead, she would’ve been already.

“I’m Addison Wells—“

“I should kill you, right here,” he snaps, upon hearing mention of the royal name that has been at odds with his pack for as long as he’s lived, as long as his great-great grandmother had lived, “for all the hundreds of my kind that have been murdered, the life of a royal wouldn’t be much, but it would matter.”

Addison exhales slowly.

“So kill me then.” She’s met by bewildered eyes. “If killing me is what you need to do to start the healing between our bloodlines, then do it.”

She goes to press her neck into his claws, but he lets go of her before she can finalize it, regarding her in silence. His hand lowers back down to his side.

(“They’ll get you,” her mother warns a fussing toddler Addison after dinner because she had wanted her father but her father was in a war meeting. “They’ll come from the woods, snatch you in the night, and sink their teeth into you if you don’t stop this nonsense right now, my dear.”

She had sniffled and buried her face into her mother’s gown, fear wrapping tightly around her gut. Her mother had hummed and pulled her closer, kissing her hair.

“That’s my princess. Come on now, your father will be done soon.”)

“Why are you here?” he asks finally, and the yellow is gone when he blinks a second later, leaving no trace of it behind.

“To find the truth,” she replies easily, because she’s sick of being lied to. She thinks it was the burning earlier today that had begun this awakening inside of her, because for all that her parents had done right, that wasn’t something that could be reversed or forgiven. Her emotions had been all over the place since, and even now they were still loose and rattling around her head, but one thing was for sure - what would a captured werewolf gain from lying to her?

“And what makes you think I know it?” He turns away from her and heads to the corner of the cage, sliding down the wall and taking a seat on the stones. He doesn’t have a bed, or a basin, or anything at all. She wondered if the servants were even allowed down here, and made a note to herself to check the next day. They had left him in complete darkness, but she had figured that would be the worst of it.

Maybe there was more to all of this than she had originally thought.

“Because you’re the only one who does,” she supplies evenly, and his eyebrows raise in question.

“What’s to keep me from lying to you? Wouldn’t I say anything to get myself out of here?”

Addison can’t help the small smile that begins to lift the corner of her lips. “Werewolves are forbidden to lie.”

He looks impressed by her answer, the most solid emotion he’s shown so far, but it’s gone as fast as it appears.

Silence stretches between them once more, and Addison waits for him to break it, not wanting to push too much or too far. He eventually does, arms crossed, eyes still watching her carefully.

“A princess who wants to know my secrets, huh?” he muses, a smirk crossing his features at the sight of her blush, “It’s been a while since that’s happened.”

(Kisses pressed along her jawline before teeth nip playfully at her neck, hands splayed across the bare skin of her back. Her own hands sliding from the nape of his neck into his hair so that she can drag his head up so that his lips meet hers again.

Her hands dip back down to his chest after, and a short laugh had puffed out of him as he had pulled back, their foreheads pressed together as her fingers traced the lines resting on his skin.

“They’re nothing special,” he had whispered to her and she had shaken her head before kissing him slow and soft, her hands coming to a rest on the sharp curve of his hips.

“They’re apart of what makes you who you are.”

He had smiled then, the kind of smile that had made her heart and stomach do all kinds of things they shouldn’t, and then had kissed her again, and again, and—)

She shoves the dream aside quickly. That wasn’t part of the reason she came down here at all, because she doubted it was anything. It wasn’t like she was a seer or anything of the sort, so it just had to be a fluke, though the lines in the dream she had a few weeks ago were awfully similar…

She opts for the safe answer among the red that’s still steadily dusting her cheeks. “Your *people’s* secrets.” And then another thought strikes her. “May I ask what your name is?”

He stills, the smirk slipping from his lips. Something changes in the air, but she can’t quite grasp what. He looks down at the ground, eyes chasing the rats that huddle and chase and keen, before looking back up to the girl before him. Her hair is long, and as white as the moon on a clear evening, her eyes trusting, her hands steady. Her skin is tinted orange from the lantern, and her nightgown is dirty at the bottom from her trek down here.

Something in his heart twists.

“Wyatt,” he says, despite the chiding voice of his mother inside his head. Addison smiles, and wonders if maybe they could end this lifelong war between human and werewolf after all.

#zombies 2 #wyaddison #wyatt x addison #royalty au #keepswingin writes #mine #they’re like…in their 20s for this idk i’m goin to bed #upon looking back at this in the royalty sense it probably makes more sense for them to be like 17 or 18 really #idk i don’t think i have any super good ideas to write more of it so it doesn’t really matter in the long run lol

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years

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mavinwood with werecat michael would be love

Oh my God, yesssss.

Just like.

Werecat Michael who never admits to being a werecat?

He’s careful with who he tells and everything because people tend to react badly when they realize the world’s weirder than they thought? That there are things and such out there science and logic can’t explain away and also hey, you know. Think twice before inviting some stranger you met at a club inside because vampires are real and that bit is true and anyway, tangent.

So.

Werecat!Michael who is just. So very Michael about being a werecat?

The whole bit with werewolves and other creatures and the lunar cycle isn’t completely untrue - but it doesn’t control their lives. They might get a bit more restless, short-tempered and so on closer to the full moon because it messes with their heads a little but it’s not like the movies say.

But, again, tangent.

Once he learns he can trust the Fakes with what he is he doesn’t bother trying to hide his secret from them but he also doesn’t outright tell them.

Because why would he, is the thing.

Sure, it’s partly to fuck with them because they’re all assholes and he’s no different. Also, it just never occurs to him to do so because it’s not all that important in the grand scheme and such?

Like oh, hey. Sure he can shift forms and turn into a cat pretty much at will, but it’s not like that means anything. (Can’t fucking use a gun or a knife without opposable thumbs - well, okay, there are probably ways around that but a cat would look pretty dumb like that so whatever.)

Anyway, anyway.

Michael who goes about his life like everything’s normal (and to be fair for him it is?) and every so often he just turns into a cat because why the fuck not?

It fucks with his mood when he doesn’t shift forms for a while, has him snapping and snarling more Makes him meaner when he doesn’t have to be or even wants to be.

So.

He runs around as a cat, wanders the city at night and the whatnot. Sniffs around the borders of the crew’s territory to make sure things are alright there. (None of their rivals getting greed or ambitious or whatever.)

Snoops around to see if he can pick up anything interesting in the way of rumors and such to bring back to the crew if it has anything to do with them.

Run around just to run around, kitty parkours his way around the city’s rooftops and alleyways and all that until he runs the restlessness that tends to build up when he’s in his human form for long out of his system.

Before he met Gavin and Ryan he used to go back to the little place he keeps in a quiet neighborhood when he doesn’t feel like using the rooms at the penthouse. (Spent too much time around the others and needs some quiet or whatever the hell and it’s just. Nice, you know, having a place of his own that isn’t a shitty little apartment now he can afford better and all that.)

But he did meet Gavin, and Ryan and it’s just.

Christ, those assholes.

Gavin’s one of Burnie’s people that Geoff poached right under his nose years ago. (Burnie and Geoff bicker about it to this day like an old married couple and goddamn they need to figure their shit out because it’s sad watching them pretend they’re not head over heels for one another, but tangent? Tangent.)

Ryan’s this creepy bastard Michael met way back when. Way before the Fakes, before the whole Mogar thing started or Los Santos heard about the Vagabond.

This idiot on a roof with a sniper rifle in the dead of winter - as much of one as Los Santos ever got, but it was particularly cold that winter. Snow and everything and this idiot, this goddamned moron wearing all black on a snow covered roof of all fucking things.

(Sure, sure, not like anyone could see him from that angle, what with him being on the tallest building around but Jesus Christ, okay.)

He was careful about it back then because who the hell knew if the idiot was the sort to hurt an animal for shits and giggles, but he couldn’t not investigate.

(It always pays to know as much as you can when it comes to what goes on in Los Santos, including idiots like this guy.)

Lucky him (or not, depending on how you look at it), Ryan’s not the sort to hurt animals.

Seemed surprised to see a stupid cat prowling around and started talking to him, because he’d been on that roof or a while before Michael came along. Got bored.

Talked to Michael like he could understand him, which odd but not unusually so? (Some people are just like that, which. Whatever. Means Michael hears things he wouldn’t normally and that suits him fine.)

Ryan isn’t dumb enough to talk about why he’s up on that roof, because he thought Michael was just a cat, sure, but had no idea if anyone else might be listening. (That, and he’s careful as fuck about shit like that, so yeah.)

No, Michael got to hear about how fucking cold it was and how Ryan wasn’t a fan. Like. Snow’s pretty and all? But he was a nice southern boy (only part of that’s ever been true) and wasn’t Los Santos supposed to be warm?

Got to hear about some shitty little car he stole off some poor bastard and the noise the engine was making and did Michael think that meant the engine was bout to explode on him or something?

Just.

Ryan talked a lot about a whole lot of nothing and Michael got to hear all about it.

Started sitting a few feet away from Ryan, overhang of a vent exhaust/whatever those things are called my brain is not working right now out of the wind but found himself moving closer after a while.

Ended up curled up next to Ryan at the end there, paws tucked under him because Ryan was right about the cold.

Didn’t startle when Ryan’s target finally showed and he fired his sniper rifle, no,

Michael looking over when Ryan stopped being an idiot and got serious, his quiet “Showtime,” right before he did his job and whatever poor bastard he was hired to kill got dead.

Michael watched as Ryan packed up after that, quick and efficient and not such an idiot after all. Followed along behind him as he climbed off the roof and made his way over to that stolen car a few blocks over before going his own way.

After that, well.

They just kind of kept finding one another, didn’t they.

Michael out aimlessly wandering as a cat or working for one asshole or another and oh, hey, would look at that. The fucking Vagabond. (Before the name, and then afterward right up until the Fakes approached him for a job and Michael’s life got a little more complicated.)

Gavin happened to Michael a year or two after he started working for Geoff. This little asshole that swept into town with that dumb smirk of his and stupid gold-framed sunglasses and looking like a fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Little idiot who had trouble with not being a complete piece of shit and Geoff fucking loved him. Thought he was hilarious as shit and please don’t kill the fucker, Michael, it’d be more trouble than it’s worth, trust me.

And Gavin, the asshole, latched right onto Michael and never let go. Thought he was hilarious with all his snapping and snarling and never once intimidated when Michael played up that reputation he’d picked up over the years.

Mean fucker, and one hell of an anger problem. Rabid bastard who needed to be put down but Ramsey kept holding out on that one, happy to set Michael loose on the crew’s enemies like a bullet from a gun.

No.

Gavin just ginned and laughed and fucking poked at Michael like he knew it was all for show. (It wasn’t, really, but for whatever reason Gavin’s wasn’t entirely wrong about Michael and goddamn him anyway.)

Gavin’s not as stupid as he acts and Michael knew it even back then.

(Geoff’s made mistakes, had lapses in judgement, but Gavin wasn’t one of them. Talented fuck with a knack for computers and not bad behind a sniper rifle. Prone to making bad decisions - reckless ones - when he wasn’t laser-focused on whatever he was dealing with because he’s smart as fuck and a bored Gavin is a dangerous Gavin.)

Michael found himself looking after the little idiot when he couldn’t be bothered to. Workaholic if they let him be, and once Michael found out he was a goddamned soft touch when it came to cats (or any kind of animal, really) that was the beginning of the end, really.

Because Michael liked Gavin pretty much from the start, right? But he didn’t like the way Gavin would work himself into the ground for the crew or some private project he was working on, didn’t matter.

Hand him something to do and if it was important enough or just interesting enough, he’d go at it until he couldn’t anymore, even - especially - if it wasn’t necessary.

So.

Sometimes Michael would go small and furry and visit Gavin at his apartment or his rooms at the penthouse. Wherever Gavin was holed up working himself half to death for no good reason and Cat at him.

Sprawl over his keyboard or stolen files or whatever the fuck he’d be working on refuse to budge until Gavin took a proper break.

Give him the sad eyes and non-stop wailing until Gavin got off his ass and got something to eat. (Feed Michael, really, but he always forgot to get actual cat food and would make him chicken or eggs or whatever he had on hand and once he started cooking realized how hungry he was and made himself food too, so. Yeah. Roundabout way of doing things but it worked.)

Or he’d just pester him long enough that Gavin couldn’t pretend to ignore him any longer and call it a victory when Gavin decided maybe he didn’t need to go back to his project afterward.

Just.

A whole lot of that over the years, and then Ryan joins the crew and Michael.

Fuck.

Michael still has two idiots to look out for (aside from the others, but tangent). Two idiots who need someone to look out for them and it’s.

A mess, for a little while.

Because it’s easier for him to keep an eye on them with them so close now, but also?

He realizes there are FEELINGS.

Because Ryan and Gavin and oh, fuck, suddenly he realizes why he even bothers looking out for them?

Like.

It started out nice and simple and just. Things got complicated all on their own.

Because he thought it was bad when the two of them had never met, but once they did?

God.

They got along like a house on fire (in every possible meaning) and it was terrifying/fascinating to watch happen because.

One, Los Santos is in very real danger with the two of them. And two? Michael’s stupid fucking heart is nowhere near as confused as it should be.

Because Ryan and Gavin and Michael has no time for love triangle bullshit, okay.

He knows what he wants - or would like, really, but no knowing how they’d feel about things and anyway, anyway, he’s never been that lucky.

SO.

Pretend he doesn’t know what he knows and everything will be fine.

Really.

Only, that bit about his life being a fucking disaster after Ryan and Gavin happened to him and just.

Yeah.

He watches the two of them get all nice and cozy together and figures that’s that, you know? Which is fine, really, because he’s happy that they’re happy and other cliche things.

Doesn’t change the fact they still need someone looking after them because God knows they can’t do it to save their own damn lives and all.

And then there’s.

Gavin’s overworking himself or Ryan’s off being Ryan for a job Geoff sent him on and someone needs to check in on Gavin.

But.

He doesn’t realize Ryan got back to town early, finished whatever job he was sent on and hightailed it back to Los Santos because he’s spoiled now, you know.

Gets to come back to someone waiting for him instead of an empty apartment and that’s a hell of a lot better than some shitty motel room somewhere. Wroth driving all night to get back to it.

And wouldn’t you know it, Gavin’s playing with a cat when he gets home.

This oddly familiar little bastard he’s known for years now. Kind of grumpy, little bit cranky but soft and sweet and what are the odds Gavin would also know this cat?

Michael is just watching Ryan process things. Also aware of Gavin doing the same and being all oh, fuck in his tiny werecat head because he done fucked up, didn’t he.

Got used to pestering the fuck out of them as a cat because it was easier? Like. He did the same as a human, got them out of their heads or whatever was needed and all that, but it’s always been different when he was a cat.

Because cat, really.

Only now he’s got the two of them giving him these Looks and it might have been different, being around them as human!Michael and cat!Michael, but not as much as you’d think.

Whichever form he’s in, he makes sure Gavin eats and drinks and fucking sleeps. Doesn’t let him get stuck in his head or get (too much) of a swelled head when he’s riding high.

For Ryan, well.

He’s never been scared of the stupid bastard. Wary, sure, before he got to know him because people will surprise you, but he’s never been scared of him.

(Also, the whole looking after him because goddamned idiot and all)

Gavin picks him up - and Michael lets him because what is he going to do at this point, scratch the asshole? - and studies him closely.

Cat!Michael’s not much to look at really.

Brown tabby with white markings and you’ve see one, you’ve seen them all, or however that saying goes.

Still.

Gavin’s looking at him like he’s something special.

Looks over at Ryan who’s gone all kinds of quiet and thoughtful and just as Michael’s about to start squirming out of Gavin’s hold, the asshole starts talking.

Something, something, something about this matter the two of them have been meaning to talk about for a while now. This problem they have because wouldn’t you know it, they’re happy little relationship isn’t quite?

Michael is Conflicted because he shouldn’t be hearing this, like for real?

And while he could slip out of Gavin’s hands and fucking run for it, he just.

Doesn’t.

Lets Gavin pull him close, hold him against his chest while he and Ryan go on and on about this problem of theirs and most of it’s not registering because he’s having a moral and ethical quandary and such?

But then one of the assholes says his name and Michael - the idiot he is - looks right at them.

And Gavin - because of course it was Gavin - grins a little and asks Michael what he thinks about things and Michael doesn’t get it right away.

No.

He just stares at Gavin who looks back, this dumb little smile on his face. then he looks at Ryan who looks.

Well, the bastard looks amused, and that’s as annoying as it always is, until what they’ve been saying finally, finally fucking processes and Michael realizes they’ve been talking about him?

About how they’ve been trying and trying and trying to woo him the past however long, Inviting out on on dates - which, to be fair, neither of them came out and said and he just thought they were grabbing lunch or going to see a movie they were all interested in and so on and oh, fuck, did he catch their stupid somehow?

It’s painfully obvious in hindsight they’ve been wooing him and he’s been so in denial about such a thing ever happening he never realized?

Just.

Pining like an idiot while they’ve been fucking wooing (attempting to woo?) him and wow. wow, he really did catch their stupid not to pick up on any of that.

Oh, and also the thing where they know Michael’s the asshole cat who keeps popping into their lives, but mostly it’s the wooing thing he completely missed.

And then, you know.

Gavin and Ryan being bastards and telling cat!Michael all about how dumb human!Michael is like they’re not the same person to the point Michael’s tempted to scratch the fuck out of Gavin’s stupid couch.

But that would be stupid, because Michael actually likes the couch - it’s super comfy - and also for all the two of them are being assholes about things?

They’re super fucking nervous, scared.

And Michael, okay.

He gets it, he does.

It’s scary as fuck and God knows if it would work, but it sounds. It sounds nice, like something he’d love to make work if they’re willing to try? (And they obviously do, because the wooing thing? So.)

Michael wriggles out of Gavin’s hold and bumps his face against Gavin’s and meows because that’s not a completely terrible idea, this whole relationship thing he’s been talking about? And then he does the same to Ryan, because for really reals, Ryan and just.

Kind of weird, what with Michael being a cat at the moment? But somehow they make it work.

Also, the three of them seeing how long it takes everyone else to realize Michael’s a werecat because they’re horrible, horrible people. >:DDDDDDD

#ragehappy #mavinwood #freewood #background geoff/burnie #anon #werecat aus #prompt fills #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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lockandk3yfiction · 5 years

Text

Title: Wolf in Sheeps Clothing

Date: November 4, 2018

My piece for @bnha-halloween-bb ! I collaborated with @mixspixs and you can find their artwork here!

Rated: T

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Eijirou

Word Count: 5,280

Part One of ???

(Read on AO3)

A huff blew throughout the air, ruffling the chemistry notes that sat upon the dining room table before two agitated students. Kirishima tapped his pencil onto the paper, his knee bouncing and bumping against Bakugou’s own. Groaning, Kirishima fell back against the seat rest, his head bumping against Bakugou's arm. Chancing a glance, he peered under his hair, in awe of Bakugou's sharp brows and set jaw. The blonde picked up the pen Kirishima had dropped, trailing it along the sheet of paper discarded earlier. Eyes trained on the problem at hand, Bakugou didn't notice the admiring stare directed his way.

Red orbs studied the small wrinkles no one else would ever have gotten close enough to see, the way Bakugou's skin creased in thought. A smile flitting his lips, Kirishima bit back a sigh, letting his eyelids flutter. The quiet of his home broke eventually, Bakugou's lips parting as he kept his gaze locked on Kirishima's homework.

"You're drawing the wrong chemical element."

"Wait? Am I?!"

Mouth gaping open, Kirishima scrambled to pick up his notes. He flipped through their textbook, counted down the periodic table and flipped back to their assignment page multiple times. Muttering and scratching his brain for any sign of his saving grace, a choked cry escaped him.

"That can't be!? I swear this is Barium!”

“You’re supposed to be drawing the physical properties of Boron.”

“Agh!”

Slumping down on the tabletop with his hands clutching and mushing his red hair, Kirishima groaned. He had truly put all of his efforts into the wrong diagram. What a fool. “...is that at least how you draw Barium..?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou let out an exasperated sigh, tugging Kirishima’s paper out from under his head. “Here, moron.”

With a little pout, Kirishima’s arms fell from their resting place on, opening up his eyes to what Bakugou had started to do. He watched as the blonde erased what he had drawn earlier, turning the pencil over to write. Encased in a scribbled circle, Bakugou wrote the letter b in capitalization. The correct symbol for Boron. Finding the back of the book, Bakugou followed each row and column up until he found the square that matched said letter, pointing idly at the atomic number of five.

“See. You’re doing too much work. Digging your brain out to figure out what makes up Barium when it’s atomic number is higher than-”

Bakugou’s words drawled on deaf ears, Kirishima’s focus changing from the inked on pages to the blemished skin of Bakugou’s neck. All he could hear was the buzz of a voice, stifled into static under the thoughts in his mind. None of which had to do with science anymore. Hidden behind Bakugou’s ear, a grey-ish shade compared to his complexion, Kirishima could see the shape of a wolves head imprinted just out of Bakugou’s hairline. It wasn’t a tattoo, Kirishima had learned that years ago. No, it was more of a birthmark.

The lines were fine, curves following the descent of the wolves snout. Its ears perked, pointed forward at attention, it's fur bunching at the neck where the wolf began to blend into Bakugou's own skin. The texture seemed just as smooth and supple as Bakugou's own skin. An urge to feel it, to see whether or not they were the same overtook Kirishima.

His fingers rose, tentatively touching the skin on Bakugou's neck, noticing as the other boy flinched. He'd always done that, always acted a little scared at the first touch of someone else. Kirishima chuckled, his lips curving upward, causing the dimples in his cheeks to rise. Index finger petting under Bakugou's hair, it crawled up toward the mark behind his ear. Tracing the outline of the image, eyes half-lidded and mouth agape, Kirishima lost fell into a trance.

As his hand busied itself, Bakugou exhaled a sigh. He closed his eyes, folding his arms as he let Kirishima do as he pleased. Let him into his personal space, wiggling his way closer to Bakugou in more ways than one. There was no way to fight it, no reason to attempt so. Ever since they were young, Kirishima had always found a way to lower Bakugou's guard. Like any other moment, he was at the redhead's mercy til Kirishima would get bored. Knowing him that wouldn't be anytime soon.

Feeling knuckles nudge his earlobe, Bakugou arched his neck away. He provided more canvas, a better look at the mark on his neck. The mythical creature would almost whine in satisfaction, lower its head to receive more grace. This was only a mark though. Not a true beast in its full glory. An image that lingered on Bakugou forever, that carved its way onto his body since his days in the womb.

Still Bakugou's cheeks burned, his brows tensing and untensing. His breathing would come out shallower, a song of the night. Much like he would sleep soon. Fall asleep in the gentleness of Kirishima's touch. A shiver ran up his spine, a small gasp escaping Bakugou when Kirishima had prodded a little too roughly at his tendons. Growling, Bakugou bared his gritted teeth.

"Hey... You like wolves, yeah?"

"You're stating the obvious, dumb ass." Bakugou hissed, slowly opening his eyes. Pouting with his bottom lip jut out, Bakugou stares at Kirishima.

“Than you’ll know about werewolves?”

“What are you going on about?”

“Well…” Kirishima straightened his back, removing his hands to place them on his knees. “Since you know so much about wolves than what do you think werewolves would look like in real life! Would they be furry burly ol’ men like in those retro horror films?! Or would they walk around Twilight style!?”

“Are you really comparing shit to some sappy fuck of a movie.” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at Kirishima.

“Don’t bust a movie about forbidden love between human and beast!”

“Never say it like that ever again. I guess they’d look more like a normal wolf.”

“So it is Twilight style!”

“Stop calling it that!”

A guess wasn’t quite the truth if Kirishima knew any better. There was only so much as a normal human being like himself could understand or comprehend.

He wasn’t marked like Bakugou.

Grabbing his trenchcoat, Bakugou walked through the halls with Kirishima following his tail. The redhead was smiling like an idiot with big doe eyes and a hint of pink on his cheek. As they’d stalked closer to the doorway, they would pass frames of old memories. Photographs of the two throughout the years, of Kirishima’s family and his other friends hung upon the walls. Glimpse into the past, of a time simpler to Bakugou where they’d go chasing butterflies and come home with scraped knees. Now he was chasing deer alone. Hiding secrets from his closest friend.

“Be careful walking home. I don’t want Auntie and Uncle calling us because you won’t answer your phone.”

“I’ll be fine, Kirishima.”

Kirishima stood behind Bakugou, towering over him as he tied his shoes. His eyes would roam Bakugou’s hunched over frame but like most times that he sees the blonde off, Kirishima’s eyes would linger on one of Bakugou’s garments. His murky green trench coat, a favorite of Bakugou’s to wear. He could tell not only by the many times Bakugou had worn it but from the many rips and tears it had. The hemline of Bakugou’s sleeves were missing completely; the fabric had torn just before his wrist. The bottom that hung just above his knees looked as if it may have been stepped on, dragged from and bitten off. It had Kirishima frowning.

“Be safe, not fine.” Kirishima grumbled, poking the crown of Bakugou’s head before standing back up.

Scoffing, Bakugou tilted his head up, cheeks brushing the fur of his collar as he looked up at Kirishima. Shaking his head, Bakugou’s boots clicked as he stood up as well. Hand holding the door handle, Bakugou ruffled Kirishima’s hair before stating one more sentence before leaving.

“I’ll be safe.”

Door shutting behind him, Bakugou bounded down the porch steps, feet meeting the cement floor. He didn’t stay long on the sidewalk though, turning his head every which way before jogging across the road. The clock read twelve past nine before he left Kirishima’s home. Running off from the warmth of a fireplace into the brisk fall winds, a tremor ran up Bakugou’s spine.

Looking over his shoulder one last time, Bakugou gave a half-baked smile at the slow to blur the vision of Kirishima’s home. He’d be going too far away to even smell its lingering scent soon. A hand covering the mark on his neck, Bakugou breathed in deeply, shuttering an exhale at the dull pain forming in his head. Hunching his back, hands pulling his hood over his head, Bakugou walked align with the forest opposite of the neighboring homes.

A keen whine echoed in the dead of night. Twigs cracking under feet, muscles and joints popping.

Tugging on the hood of his coat tighter, Bakugou ducked under the trees and ferns of the forest. Pointed ears covered in fur protruded from his hair, the thumping of a tail hitting the backs of his thighs. The mark on his neck glowed under the moonlight.

Kirishima had always told Bakugou stories and myths, ever so interested in the paranormal that he was sad to think didn’t exist. There were tales of bloodsucking monsters and invisible men. Legends about sea creatures larger than ships and humans that could shift into beast. Lengthy claws and treacherous fangs, pale skin and peeling corpse. Halloween tricks that weren’t only costumes and could happen year round.

He’d babble miles upon miles to Bakugou about the shows he’d watched and the books he’d read. He’d pester Bakugou with questions, coaxing out his thoughts on the matter about whether they’d exist and Bakugou would lie.

He’d lie and say that such things were impossible. Impossible to the naked eye.

Yet Bakugou knew full well of the truths.

He bared the mark of such mythical creatures.

The mark that came in many shapes and forms with a different transformation associated with the person that bares it. With colors like white blotches or deep burgundy dots parallel of one another. It was unexplainable, like witches magic. Perhaps the first to bare a witches hat were the ones to curse themselves, to bestow upon the unwilling a style of life that must be hidden.

Though that would be impossible to confirm for not even the eldest of vampires could remember. This was simply the way of life in which two beings can be born on the opposite side of the same coin. Humans lived out their days along well-kept beast that only showed their true forms in the dead of night.

Bakugou sniffed at the air, the back of his hand rubbing mindlessly under his nose. The rising moon had cast light overhead, illuminating the patched ground in its glow. Shadows of the trees, danced as Bakugou neared the center of the forest. The growing winds blew at his coat, his hood slipping off from his head. Ears standing perked, they twitched with his nostrils. Many scents mixed with the night air, noises crinkling at fallen twigs. One with his senses, Bakugou’s eyes peered out into the distance where those just like him had stood to meet.

Wolves taller than they should be crouched beside men with attributes like Bakugou’s own. Daring eyes, pointed ears, each with fangs short and long. Tails that curved and swayed, jagged claws. Much of them were older, a few that could possibly be his grandfather but most were those in their mid-years. Bakugou’s seen them all before - at the hunting grounds, in stores, in his classroom. The one sure fire way that he sees all of their true forms though is in this secluded area.

No normal human would dare to enter the woods after nightfall and none have ever seen one creature in any form other than the mask they hid behind. Not even Kirishima. Bakugou’s chest rose as he breathed in deeply, entering the crowded circle of bodies.

They were all family, not by blood but by trait. A bond that could only be broken by betrayal and lies - Bakugou shut his eyes. Secrets were only kept between members of the pack, not apart. Tales were tales. Legends are legends. The truths, however, would always carry alongside each and every wolf that stood here today.

Bakugou opened his eyes, nodding along with the other pack members in greeting. This was their ritual, meeting multiple times a week for discussions. Bonding - that’s what they call it - is what makes the pack strong. It’s what holds all its members together in an intense grip. This was stronger than family ties.

Bakugou knew that well, for his father had left the pack years before he was born. The stories told were always so contradicting, however. Bakugou’s father didn’t tell it the same as their pack leader and Aizawa’s version was so much different in comparison to both. If there was one story he ever believed in, it would be the one that Aizawa tells. He trusts the man much deeper than he does any other pack member.

Lifting his head, Bakugou angled his chin until his eyes met Aizawa’s gaze. This was his teacher, after all, an expert in both normal day history and the timeline of mythical creatures. Aizawa tugs his wool scarf above his lips, silencing himself as he turned back to their pack leader. Doing the same, Bakugou watched as the burning campfire flickered, its flames dancing in the night.

It seemed as though hours had drawled on with talk of upcoming events and the hunting feast they would soon partake in. It had driven the youngest member to boredom, his gaze half-lidded and lips curved downward into a frown. There was nothing exhilarating in meetings like these as if they were only to count upon previous affairs. The night dragged on without interruption, wolf howls signaling the end of their gathering. Some bodies began to stalk off while others stayed, mingling about with the pack. At one point, the campfire had been covered with dirt, suffocating the heat of the flames.

Bakugou had ambled his way toward an all too familiar face, Aizawa’s hair left in a tangled mess. Untamed like his wolf, Bakugou supposed.

“Sensei.”

Aizawa turned from the member he had previously chastised, for what reason, Bakugou did not know nor care.

“What is it, Bakugou? If this has anything to do with worlds history, then could it not wait until class tomorrow.”

“I’m not like Kirishima.”

Bakugou’s exclamation caused the air to still with a chill, ears that were of neither their twitching in the direction of the two. Baited eyes of a silver-haired man watched with intent as the two spoke, a sour expression plastered on himself.

Bakugou had arrived home near midnight after the packs meeting had ended. All but one light had been turned off in the house, a rattling in the kitchen signaling that one of his parents must be awake. Shutting the front door as softly as Bakugou could, he took his trenchcoat off to place onto a hook by the wall. His tail and ears had long rescinded, his fangs dulled back down to their typical bluntness and hands declawed.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Bakugou had tilted his head to the side. His father stood before him, back facing the entryway with his hands washing dishes in the sink. It seemed all too late to Bakugou for him to do so, dinner usually over by seven. When Bakugou normally comes home from meetings with the pack, his father would already be tucked away in bed, his mother beside him with a book in hand.

This time, it seemed Masaru was the only one awake. Bakugou did not hear his mothers yells about coming home late so she must have been sound asleep. So why was it that his father had stood with his back rigged.

“Welcome back, Katsuki…”

“Hey?” He didn't mean for it to seem questioning. Curiosity was a wondrous thing, however, sneaking up in the voice and stance of its beholder.

Masaru shut the faucet water off, his shoulders rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “Don’t say ‘hey’ like that. Just because I’m old does not mean I can’t stay awake this late.” His chuckle didn’t quite meet his eyes, baritone and lacking jester.

“Dad?”

“Your mother and I are worried… I’m worried, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s brows pinched together, his hands resting on the countertop as he waited for his father to continue. Masaru wouldn’t look at him, the two standing side by side only inches apart and he wouldn’t look at his own son. Bakugou bit the inside of his cheek, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Whatever it was Masaru had to say must have… it must have taken a lot out of him to muster the words to say.

Bakugou knew his father well, he knew each little quirk of his. He understood what certain actions meant, understood when he was at ease and when he was not. Now, watching as Masaru stared down at the sink, his mouth set in a thin line, Bakugou knew he was not comfortable with a situation of some sort.

“You don’t have to be a part of the pack, Katsuki…”

“But I haven’t done wrong. I can’t leave.”

“You don’t need to be kicked out to leave the pack, Katsuki!”

“Yes, you do! Isn’t that what happened with you!?”

“I left because your mother was pregnant!”

“You were kicked out because the pack leader didn’t like my mother! You were kicked out because he doesn’t approve of your mate!”

“Katsuki!”

“It’s true! Sensei told me all of the truth!”

Another secret unraveled and unfolded. The pack once had another Alpha, one with old morals and stingy thoughts. Those he did not approve of, those that challenged him or did not bow down were banned from ever being members of the pack. Bakugou’s mother, Mitsuki, was banned from being a part of the park. She was a ferocious one that had spoken her mind in every circumstance, that had been detested by the leader at the time.

Masaru was never like that, had always been one to follow his alpha. He followed their leader up until the day he met Mitsuki, had listened to each of the leaders words until he had fallen in love Mitsuki.

“I… I wanted to leave.” Masaru balled his fist, gritting his teeth and lowering his head.

“Aizawa-sensei said the Alpha wouldn’t let you…” Bakugou felt he may have spoken out of term.

Bakugou had always gon into these kinds of fights with his mother but not ever with his father. He had a softer tone, some would call him timid. It had developed after years of fighting with the pack, of trying defend himself up to the point that he didn’t know how to fight anymore. It hurt, Bakugou frowned, his eyes welling with tears.

Bakugou couldn’t stop the urge to cry, tugging on Masaru’s sleeve as he rested his head on his father's shoulder.

Would he suffer the same fate?

Bakugou stayed quiet for most of the next day. Not once did he raise his hand when he knew an answer in class, he hadn’t bother grinding a curse out at ghost boy Deku. He didn’t talk to friends as they passed him by in the halls, didn’t even yell after being smacked on the back by Sero.

All he could think about was his conversation with his father and Kirishima’s smile. The same smile that appeared a foot away from his face, shocking red hair obstructing his site.

“There you are, Bakugou! Man, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The sun's rays blinded Bakugou as Kirishima leaned away from him. He no longer provided shade to the blonde whose back was against a tree, hiding far into the back of the school.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be found.” Bakugou scoffed.

“Nonsense.” Kirishima pouted, crossing his legs as he sat in front of Bakugou, putting a tray piled with food between them. “Here. I brought extra cause I had an itch you didn’t go to the cafeteria.”

“That’s none of your business,” Bakugou grumbled. Still reached out for half of the sub sandwich on Kirishima’s plate, the redhead grinning widely at him. “Come on! Don’t you miss me?” Kirishima bit down on his sandwich, mayo spilling from between the bread and down his cheeks. “We haven’t seen each other all day Kaminari said you looked down?” “Do I look down to you?” He growled.

“Yeah.” Bakugou glared, certain that if he could bare his fangs at the other, Kirishima would cower in fear. Instead, the redhead poked him on the forehead, laughing as Bakugou batted his hand away. “Come on, Blasty! You can tell me anything. What’s wrong?” Bakugou jut his bottom lip outward, eyebrows set in a frown. Anything was a lie. There were things Bakugou could never say to Kirishima, all secrets that could only be kept between his family and the pack. Shaking his head made Kirishima’s face falter, the hand outstretched between dropping. “Bakugou..?” “Wolves mate for life, you know that.” Bakugou rushed to get the words out, any sort of distraction a dire need. He pointed at the mark on his neck, the wolfs head a proud proof of what Bakugou truly was. A beast hiding in sheep's clothing. Kirishima arched his brow at the sudden change of topic, uncertain what Bakugou was trying to get at. “Yeah, so?” “Imagine if people were the same. They only find a lover once and that’s it. The two of them being together for all eternity just like a wolf and his mate.” Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, closing it when he found no words. Bakugou was being romantic… Talking about love and mates and how they could only fall in love once. Kirishima smiled timidly, his shoulders shrugging upward as he looked away with a flush on his cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind having a mate like that, Bakugou. It sounds… nice.”

Somehow, the topic ended there. Kirishima sat a little closer, Bakugou stopped being quiet. They talked, they joked, they basked in each others company. Kirishima started to pet at the mark on Bakugou’s neck again, smiling fondly at him as Bakugou told him more about wolves. Behavior had come into the conversation and while listening to Bakugou talk about territory and head alphas vs. normal alphas, Kirishima couldn’t help but think that Bakugou could act similar to a wolf at times.

Night had fallen quicker than Kirishima had thought it would, leaving him walking alone in the dark. He had planned to be home earlier but Aizawa had asked that he stay after school to aid in cleaning duty. His stomach grumbled as he walked, a pout on his lips. He didn’t even have Bakugou by his side and they always walked home together. “Stupid cleaning duty!” Kirishima kicked a pebble onto the road, his body swaying with the motion. Stumbling to catch his balance, Kirishima squealed, nearly dropping the bag of beef buns in his arms. “Phew…” He sighed in relief, looking up. Then he was standing straighter, eyes focused on the road ahead. His attention was captured by the familiar trenchcoat Bakugou had always worn. With the coat in rags and an ugly green, not in a million years could Kirishima mistake it. “Bakugou!” Kirishima yelled as he watched the hooded figure enter into the woods and his breath caught. “Bakugou! Wait!” His legs sprinted into action, arms wound tightly around his market bag. Eyes blown wide, Kirishima couldn’t stop, not after witnessing his best friend going off into the forest by himself. No one in their right mind should do that. The woods were full of wildlife creatures, some as small as a bunny and others as large as bears.

“Bakugou!” Worry filled Kirishima’s lungs, a cold shiver running down his spine. “Bakugou!”

Why would Bakugou go off into the woods at this time of night? He couldn’t possibly where he’s going or what creatures lurk inside. Feet bouncing off the last gleam of a street light, Kirishima dove off the way Bakugou had gone. He didn’t look both ways before crossing the road, hyper focused on the trail ahead of him. Bursting into the forest, Kirishima yelled out for Bakugou once again. Adrenaline filtered through his veins, the grassy floor crinkling underneath his feet. His heart beat like a drum, eyes stinging from the wind that blew against his face. Faster, he needed to be faster. He needed to be by Bakugou’s side, to know he’s safe, to figure out why. Gaze trained above, Kirishima didn’t notice the uplifted root beneath him. His foot had got caught on it, his breath hitching as his body lunged forward. Kirishima cried out, hitting the ground with a resounding thump. Groaning, Kirishima tasted dirt on his tongue, could feel where his cheek had been scratched. His beef bun laid discarded and crumbled beside him, stomach growling at the site. Body quivering, Kirishima shut his eyes. He closed himself off from his surroundings, trapped by twisted tree roots and hooting owls. Leaves rustled nearby - Kirishima clenched his fingers - the sound of a twig breaking underfoot not that far away. He laid still, afraid of what was to come, afraid of how his life would end. He had already lost Bakugou with no way of finding him in the woods. His ankle ached, sympathizing with the shallow pain in his heart. How Kirishima let all of this happen? How could he watch as Bakugou entered the woods and then get himself injured by chasing after? Kirishima whimpered, biting down on his lip. Footsteps crackled at the ground, the sound growing closer. Torturously slow, dragging on Kirishima’s fated demise. With uneven breaths, Kirishima shut his eyes. A shadow stood over him, the muzzle of a beast sniffing the air and nudging at his hair. Entertaining the thought that it might be a deer, Kirishima willed himself to open his eyes until a rigid growl entered his ear. Kirishima stiffened, eyes wide as he stared up at a rather large wolf. Covered in a golden mane, its crimson red eyes bored into Kirishima’s own. Its muzzle pulled back in a snarl, dripping slobber over the human's cheek. Kirishima whimpered, shutting his eyes as he tried not to wail. This would be his final resting place, where his bones would decay after the wolf would have him for dinner. Snarling again, the wolf pulled back. It turned high tail, scurrying off into the brush but for how long would it be gone. Kirishima shuttered a gasp of fresh air, tempting himself to move. Cautiously, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, wincing at the burn of his ankle. With no telling of when or if the wolf would come back, Kirishima knew his situation was unfavorable.

If only he hadn’t saw Bakugou walking into the woods alone.

If only Kirishima hadn’t rushed in to chase after him.

Knitting his brows, Kirishima strained to keep his eyelids open. His ankle thorbed, shoes suddenly tight, no doubt from swelling. Whining, Kirishima rubbed at his ankle, the beating of his chest loud in his ear. The song of the forest fell into dead silence. A stillness took over the air, choking the heavy breaths of Kirishima lungs. Leaves stopped swaying, the night owls off in other places.

Kirishima’s eyes flickered, turning and twisting where he sat in attempt to find the golden mane wolf once again. The image of those bloody red eyes and bright white fangs pestered at Kirishima’s memory. The way its maw had been arched in a snarl, how its growl resonated in the forest as if it bounced off of invisible walls. He shivered, curling in on himself with his head resting on a bent knee.

There’s no way he could of gotten up. No way he could save himself. Murmuring the phrases, embedding them in his mind, Kirishima bit his lip.

“You goddamn idiot!”

A roar like a bellow echoed in the dark, surrounding Kirishima in a wave of nostalgia. Eyes widening, his fingers trembled, head shortly rising. Footsteps thudded against the ground, the bushes rustling behind his back. Kirishima’s eyes began to well, his breaths slowing down, shoulders slacking. The chirping of crickets came alive as if signaling that Kirishima still had time. Stifling a hiccup, Kirishima wiped at his cheeks and nose.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?”

“Bakugou…”

His injured legs still stretched out, Kirishima turned his torso to the side, craning his neck in the direction of the voice he’s known for years. Yet… the figure that met him wasn’t quite the same as his best friends.

Standing with his hands holding his pants, shirt and coat hanging off of one arm, was Bakugou Katsuki. His chest was bare to the world, only half dressed as if he hadn’t had clothes on moments before. What a curious sight for a man in the woods at night though that’s not what had caught Kirishima’s attention. His best friend wasn’t afraid to show off and they’d shared swims in the pool many times. There were differences to his body.

A tail swayed in jerky movements behind him, the base having started from the blondes lower back and fur curling at the ends. Ears a darker shade protruded from Bakugou’s hair, twitching as he glared down at the redhead. Swallowing his saliva, all Kirishima could do was watch as Bakugou towered over him, inched closer to where his body lay still on the ground.

“Bakugou..?”

Bakugou’s coat dropped into his lap, the boy eerily quiet as he knelt down before Kirishima. Their eyes did not meet, one gaze directed towards an injured leg and the others bewildered at animalistic ears. Lips agaped, Kirishima could not tear himself away from the pointed tips. Even Bakugou’s feet lacked any shoes and it had Kirishima itching for answers.

“I saw you go into the forest…”

Hands rested above Kirishima’s ankle, what felt like claws digging into his pant legs. Long jagged nails would not be far off from the rest of Bakugou’s attributes. Resting his hands in Bakugou’s coat, Kirishima bundled the fabric up to his chest. His shoe was unknotted, removed from his foot whilst a warm palm lifted his bruised muscle. That same warmth radiated in the pit of Kirishima’s stomach, clutching Bakugou’s clothing closer to himself.

“I got worried…”

“So you thought tripping on your feet was gonna help.” Bakugou scoffed.

“It wasn’t like that!” Yelling out in denial, Kirishima’s voice cracked. “I thought you would get lost or hurt or even eaten by that- that wolf I saw!”

The ears upon Bakugou’s head lowered, tilted forward as his eyelids drooped. At first, Bakugou didn’t speak. He preoccupied himself with his hands on the others ankle, unrolling Kirishima’s sock to disperse any restraint on his swelling. The cold night air battered at Kirishima’s skin, his arms holding on tighter to Bakugou’s coat.

“I thought I was going to die...”

“I wouldn’t kill you…”

Voice softer than Kirishima has ever heard before, he looked across the short distance between them. Brows kneaded inward, lips formed into a frown, Kirishima waited for Bakugou to say something else. Waited to listen to Bakugou’s end of the story.

“Kirishima… Don’t be afraid of my wolf… Don’t be afraid of me...”

#bakushima #kiribaku #bnha #key writes

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