Chapter 1: Mountain Savage
Summary: Soulmate society. Bakugo is a recluse Alpha. Todoroki is a wary Omega. Opposites attract and unfortunately for them, resistance is futile.
First fic. Eventual smut. Slow burn. Alpha/Omega nonsense.
A/N: Y'all better strap in because idk wtf I'm doing.
Not beta'd. Anyway enjoy. What is italicized are Bakugo's direct thoughts.
Love is a strange thing.
Not that he couldn't fathom that it existed – love was real. He knew his father loved his mother more than he loved himself, he knew he loved the smell of books, he loved spicy seafood dipped in chilli oil, he loved to cook, he loved it when he pressed his foot into the neck of a villain and heard that luscious crunch. He loved the way the wind whipped about his body when his quirk blasted him ten feet into the air and he loved winning – he loved winning more than he loved sleeping.
But that hanky panky mushy 'I love you' shit? He wasn't sure. There had been a time when he had asked his father why he married his mother – she was abrasive, loud, clumsy and annoying. His father had laughed as he stirred the pot of the soup, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "She's my soul mate - I love her."
Bakugo had always been told that when he found his soul-mate, he'd know. It was drilled into his skull from the moment he punched his way out of his mother's womb. When round face had said it, he remembered snorting whilst she recited her romantic crap during lunch.
"Fucking garbage." He'd sneered and promptly vacated the table.
As if opening the floodgates, other students began chiming into the superstitious rubbish. Frog girl had started saying it, then tape boy and electro-boy too. Every single fucking day at least one of the extras mentioned it. Mind-fuck boy had once mentioned in passing that it felt like being high – that childish, nervous feeling boiling in your gut.
"Everything zooms into a single pinprick of existence." Mind-fuck had muttered. He snapped at the fish on his lunch plate with his chopsticks, moving it idly. "Like… like you're seeing for the first time?"
Tape boy described it as seeing through a microscope. Bakugo remembers electro-boy not so-discreetly grabbing tape-idiot's hand under the lunch table. He doesn't remember exactly how he reacted, but he remembers feeling repulsed.
The only time he felt anything was towards Kirishima - after the rescue operation. Bakugo cringed at the memory - it had wounded his pride so much that he avoided his classmates for days. He remembers grasping onto shitty's hair's hand, flying through the air like a rag doll. He remembers his hand being sweaty and awful. He remembers rage and nerves - but Kirishima held onto him like an iron vice. At that moment, he felt like out of all of the extras in the class, Kirishima was the most dependable. The alpha in him keened at the thought of mating with him. He very, very slowly warmed up to Kirishima's routine and passion for 'manliness.' Shitty hair's scent made him feel lightheaded, but it didn't strike him as mind-fuck had described.
When Kirishima was 18, just before graduation, he burst into the common room with a razor-sharp smile. Bakugo tore his eyes from his book, silently watching Kirishima lift the room with his infectiously good mood. His scent was off. Something wasn't right. Bakugo didn't know it at the time, but in hindsight he was definitely attracted to Kirishima. He remembers his stomach feeling like a contraction when Kirishima's cheeks were coloured scarlet. A strange, unpleasant stirring bloomed in his gut. When shitty hair had screamed that he'd found his soul mate, Bakugo knew that it wasn't him. He didn't know how he'd known, but he knew.
He silently excused himself from the room as soon as shitty hair started babbling about that giant wind freak from Shiketsu High School. That night he remembered returning to the darkness of his dorm. He coiled himself up in his sheets and slept for a long time. His chest heaved with slow-building anxiety as the Alpha in him contorted and snapped wildly, rousing his usually silent slumber into ominous nightmares. Bakugo watched as the extras fell into each other like dominos falling into place. He felt like the single onlooker in a live-action play with no ticket.
He was okay with that. His father had once told him a man who wants to lead an orchestra must turn his back to the crowd. At the time, he had shrugged it off as philosophical trash. At the ripe age of 24, he understood that greatness required sacrifice – even if that meant solitude.
Bakugo grunts as he trudges up the mountain, a large deer slung over his shoulder. His black combat boots clink against marble rock in his slow ascent. Ashen clouds hid the groggy sunlight of the day. Trees hiding whispered secrets of the woods towered into the expanse, tall green oaks bigger than buildings stretched to touch the sky. He glances at the clouds and hurries his pace. Nightfall is coming – he'd have to hurry if he wanted to skin his catch and cook, otherwise it'd be too dark to prepare the firewood.
When he reaches a particularly high climb, he hoists himself up onto the tall rock with ease. Standing straight, he inhales deeply. It is better for him to be alone. His jumbled thoughts align in silence – plus, he just likes the quietness of the mountains. At times, the silence is insufferable, but most days he handles it well. He returns to the mountains only for summer and spring, when the media made him fidget. The fame that came with heroism had become old fast. Fame was electrifying and the attention made his ego do cartwheels - but the invasion of privacy singed his veins. It irritated him more than he thought. His heat always eclipsed in summer and it was not worth battling his heat and his fan's gaze at the same time.
In the winter it was necessary for Bakugo to return to the incessant and annoying chatter of the city. The mountains were too cold for respite. The cold was far less impactful in compact environments. The frost always had a way of worming into his bones. It was worth tolerating shitty humans, even if for a few months.
Gleaming red eyes turn to look down the mountain. "Oi, hurry up!"
Akuma barks from behind him, bounding up the rocks and overtaking Bakugo's slow ascent with ease. When the giant German Shepard reaches the top, he barks at the bungalow in the distance before turning to yap again at his owner. He shakes his thick black mane and lops a pink tongue out of his mouth. Wagging his tail, he pins his owner with a tilted a stare.
"Fucking show off." The blond growls. The hero continues his slow ascent until he reaches the top, dragging his catch under the safety of his gazebo outside of the bungalow. He unceremoniously throws the deer on the wooded table and sighs, cracking his neck twice. Akuma sniffs the game and attempts a lick, but Bakugo shoos him with the boot of his shoe. "Fuck off, wait until I'm done."
Peeling off his wet jacket, he throws it on his garden chair and gets to work prepping his meal. Bakugo grabs a large axe from the table and sets to work chopping up dry firewood before throwing the wood in the fireplace he'd prepared before his hunt. Akuma sits quietly, watching his master complete his handiwork.
"Kuma, pass me the knife."
The dog barks and grabs the serrated knife from the table, clamping the handle in his jaws. Bakugo takes the knife carefully, scratching Akuma's ears. "Good boy."
Bakugo skins the deer, throwing pieces of meat into Akuma's mouth here and there. He chops the meat up and continues the mundane task of prepping his dinner, staring at the knife as he works. Kirishima had given him this knife for his 20th birthday. The sterling silver glinted in Bakugo's tight grip. He stills as he was thrown into the vault of his memories.
He remembered his hands feeling clammier than usual when shitty hair had mentioned a gift in passing. He remembers the afternoon rays making hair-for-brains red eyes gleam like molten lava. He remembers his chest tightening when Kirishima grinned that stupid wide mouthed, sunny grin. His red eyes crinkled in mirth as he shoved the box into Bakugo's chest.
"Happy birthday Bakubro!"
Bakugo grunts savagely, slicing the last pieces of his catch. He throws the bloodied abdomen of the deer on the floor for Akuma to devour.
That was four years ago. He has not seen shitty hair since then. In fact, he'd barely seen any of his classmates since then, save for electro-boy, but they work in the same agency. Bakugo stares at the knife, regret coiling in his gut. Maybe he'd text shitty hair after dinner. Maybe… maybe he'd see him this summer… but Kirishima was already mated. They could still be friends though…
Bakugo blanches. Why does it even matter if Kirishima has a stupid boyfriend? Fuck.
Bakugo stuffs herbs and spices into the deer, rubbing salt into the meat aggressively before slamming a stick through the tender meat. Smoke coils from his shoulders, sparks crackling against his knuckles. He sucks a breath in noisily to calm his rising anger. It doesn't even fucking matter. Fuck Kirishima and fuck his wind freak friend. He was fine in the woods for the summer. He'd figure shit out when he returned for the winter.
Lightning cracked across the sky, thick storm clouds rolling in from the east. The sound of thunder shook him from his reverie and carried the heaviness of his thoughts with it. The rain heaved torrential downpour, but Bakugo seemed unfazed. The rain always calmed him, always made him feel grounded, even if his quirk was useless in it.
Dinner proceeded as usual. Bakugo ignites a fire with a repressed crackle of his quirk. He roasts the deer under the gazebo whilst seated in his garden chair, smoke billowing under the tented roof. He turns the meat nonchalantly, chin resting on his palm. Akuma pants, staring at the rotating meat whilst resting at his owner's feet. When the meat was done, he slammed a large pot on the fire and poured water from a bottle in. Bringing it to boil, he places a sieve over the top and puts fresh vegetables in, steaming the fibre until it was soft enough to eat. Bakugo eats his dinner in usual silence, occasionally scrolling through his phone and reading the Hero News.
"You hungry, Akuma?"
Akuma barks and Bakugo throws chunks of raw deer meat into the dog's mouth. The corners of his mouth upturn slightly in a rare smile as Akuma gulps the meat down happily. Wagging his tail, the giant dog licks the fingers of his owner. Bakugo allows him to do so for a while, before snatching his hand away and mumbling with fake disdain, "Gross."
Nightfall creeps upon the camp. Bakugo retires to the bungalow after sloshing water on the fire. He grabs his kitchen equipment and jacket, washing all traces of his bloodied hunt away in the sink. Exhaling loudly, he rips off his combat boots and crosses the bungalow. His abode is open-planned and wooden panelled, plants potted here and there on random shelves. Pans and kitchen utensils hang from the walls in the kitchen slotted on the left of the bungalow, whilst a small bathroom was to the right upon entering. He lights an incense candle smelling of sandalwood and strips himself of his outward gear, striding into the bathroom. He showeres quickly and meticulously, before brushing his teeth and throwing on a black shirt for bed. Turning off the lights, Bakugo throws himself onto the bed face first, bouncing slightly. He yawned deeply and tucked the serrated knife under his pillow, curling into the soft sheets.
Akuma stares at his owner from across the room. Bakugo opened his arms in bed and the German Shepard wipes his paws on the mat near the door, before crossing the room and jumping into bed with Bakugo. The hero wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a gentle hug before tucking Akuma's huge hairy head under his chin. After reading more Hero News and watching a few videos on HeroTube, Bakugo drifts off to sleep with his best friend in his arms.
He dreamed of red spikey hair and sun-red eyes.
The sound of growling jerks him awake. The drowsiness of sleep is alluring, gently grasping at his consciousness. The weariness of sleep ebbs away as the biting chill settles in. It's cold - really fucking cold. He listens intently for the sound of rain to relax him yet hears nothing but ceaseless growling. His arms go to squeeze Akuma gently for warmth but notices that the dog spot on his bed is empty. Bakugo heaves a long, irritated sigh and sits up. Sleep blurres his vision and the cold feels like frost on his skin. He presses both palms into his tired eyes. Why is it so cold? He longed to return to the coffin of unconsciousness and darkness with Akuma, where his dreams of shitty hair haunted him.
"Akumaaaa" Bakugo hisses, drawing out the last syllable of his dog's name. He reaches for the phone on his bed stand and presses the button in the middle. The screen blinkeres on. The brightness pierces the darkness and Bakugo winces immediately. "Shit," He hisses as his pupils shrink under the intensity of the phone screen. Turning the brightness down, he makes a mental note of the time. 3:12AM. Too fucking early. Bakugo turns his attention to his dog's continuous growling. He catches sight of Akuma in the middle of the bungalow, teeth bared, canines jagged in the moonlight. His ears are folded back in a sign of aggression and his tail swings erratically in the night.
Bakugo clicks his teeth to grab the dog's attention, but Akuma ignores him and escalates his growl into a ferocious snarl. Bakugo's mild irritation morphes into sharp annoyance. He swings his legs out of his bed and leans forward, sighing deeply. He just wants to fucking sleep.
His hackles rise when a looming shadow is cast onto the hardwood floor. Bakugo freezes and Akuma suddenly lunges forward, salivated jaws snapping wildly. The sound of Akuma's distress rattles Bakugo from his sleepy inertia. He stares as his dog makes several guttural barks, borderline dog-screaming in the middle of the night. He silently thanks Akuma for his alertness as he slowly sits back down on the bed to reach for the serrated knife under the pillow, gripping it firmly in his right hand.
Whatever the fuck it outside of the window has to be tall to cast a shadow like that. The shadow had cast a permanent block on the floor, unmoving and formidable in the moonlight. Akuma suddenly shrinks back as the shadow begins to stretch across the floor. Power blooms in Bakugo's stomach and spreads, warming his chest and lungs as he feels his quirk come alive. His nostrils flare as he bares his teeth. His fingers tingle, his shoulders tense. The hairs on his neck stand on end. He tightens his grip on the knife, balling his free hand into a white-knuckled fist. Adrenaline invigorates him now, fight or flight mode activated. He blasts forward screaming bloody murder - both and he and Akuma make for the door, ready to tear the intruder asunder.
As he is shot into the window's line of sight, he stiffens. The world stops spinning as he stares at a set of crystal clear mismatched eyes through the window. A creature with fur as red as blood stands on its hind legs, staring into the darkness. Its canine muzzle dwarfs the small window, large black nose wrinkled mid-sniff. Each breath it takes billows warm steam onto the window. The entire world seems to black out as Bakugo stares. The scent of summer meadows and fire hit him at once, immobilizing him. His blond eyelashes flutter as he breathes deeply, a scent like a barren desert and an amazon thick with rain freezing his bones. Everything slows – Bakugo can hear his heartbeat rattling in his ears. His blood feels like liquid fire and arctic ice all at once.
Suddenly, the beast's pupils dilate and Bakugo feels an indescribable pull, as though his skeleton is trying to separate from his body. His mind launches into a blinding flash of activity, skin prickling with a strange excitement. He gasps, unable to breathe properly – his lungs rattle as a jolt of pleasure shoots from his skull, spreading across his body. He feels so awake and alive, he briefly wonders whether a bolt of lightning has struck his house.
Akuma barks again and the blond tears his gaze from the large creature. Somehow, the action seems almost painful. The world seems to darken almost immediately and the haziness that had settled on his shoulders is suddenly ripped from him, stunning him into reality. The shock of whatever has just happened is still pumping through his system because he rips the bungalow door open with an aggressive roar. He tumbles into the chill of the night, ready to butcher the red devil. It isn't until Bakugo comes face to face with the beast that he realizes how absolutely fucking massive it is. At least four times bigger than Akuma, with long white whiskers. It is huge - bigger than any wolf he has ever seen. Lifting its paws from the window, the creature turns to Bakugo with exaggerated slowness, mismatched intelligent eyes glinting in the moonlight. He has never seen a wolf like this before. Or is it just because it's 3:12 in the morning and he has slept like, four hours?
The beast takes a tentative step forward, but Akuma howls savagely and lunges for its jugular. Lurching backwards, the red creature barks in surprise, ice suddenly blasting from beneath. Akuma yelps as he is knocked aside, howling when his heavy body crashes into the extinguished firewood.
"Akuma!" Bakugo screams. Engulfed by rage, he turns to the wolf, red eyes alight with volcanic fury. Sparks of yellow and orange set his body ablaze as he explodes forward, momentum hurtling him nose to nose with the creature. The beast widens its eyes, thick glossy ice shooting from the ground – but Bakugo is quicker. He thrusts his free hand forward, quirk crackling violently in his hand, shattering the ice and billowing smoke into the air.
Before the creature can react, Bakugo snarls and slams the serrated knife to the hilt into the beast's shoulder with blinding speed. The beast howls, staggering aside, slipping on broken ice. Bakugo steps forward, intending sear the beast with an explosion to the abdomen, but a column of fire bursts from the ground. Bakugo cries out as he dodges too late, his right palm sizzles from a heat burn. He jerks back with a hiss, crashing into muddy floor.
The creature draws rattling breaths, each exhale steaming in the frozen night. Bakugo pins the beast with his gaze and advances forward, shoulders squared, breathing erratic, left palm crackling with venomous intent. The wolf locks eyes with him and again, he freezes. Sea turquoise and stormy grey eyes flip his stomach. He feels a chill travel from his toes to his skull – he does not move. He smells forest rivers and cracked dry earth. There is something strange happening – something unusual. He cannot explain it, but those eyes…
Bakugo steps back, red eyes never leaving the injured animal. He gulps air, shakily clutching his burnt palm. The animal stares at Bakugo in return, pupils dilating. Its red coat is soiled with mud and blood, wheezing loudly into the night. Bakugo feels the pull again, feels the sensational tingling that makes him gasp. His eyes glaze over and suddenly, he feels compelled to step forward. As soon as he does, the creature tears its eyes from Bakugo and shakily jerks to its feet. Bakugo is stunned back into reality from the broken eye-contact, like a bucket of water on the senses. Turning quickly, the wolf vaults into the darkness of the woods, limping painfully but skilfully from rock to rock.
Bakugo collapses on the ground, clutching his chest with his uninjured hand.
What the fuck, what the fuck?
Reality slaps him and he rises, darting towards the fireplace. His chest tightens when mulling the potential extremity of Akuma's injuries, but he releases a shaky breath when he finds Akuma crying quietly on the firewood. Bakugo stretches out his arms for a hug and the pup launches itself into his arms immediately. Bakugo wraps Akuma in a stronghold, wincing when his injured palm cups Akuma's head. He lifts Akuma up and retires to his bungalow, flipping the light on and locking the door. Placing Akuma on the floor, he examines the dog for any injuries and allows the mutt to prowl his home, checking for any limping or indication of pain. Once satisfied that Akuma is not injured, he goes to the bathroom and shakily wrenches open his first aid drawer, tearing open a pack of bandages with his teeth. Dipping the gauze in antiseptic liquid, he hisses whilst wrapping his burnt hand with the gauze.
After bandaging his hand, Bakugo steps into the main room and presses his finger to the centre of his phone on the stand. The phone blinks on – 3:31. He briefly considers stepping out to survey the area but dismisses the idea. The wolf is gone – with a knife in its shoulder, it stands a threat to no one. Bakugo sits on the edge of his bed, scratching Akuma's ears absentmindedly. He lets his mind wander to what he considers to be an extraordinary 15 minutes.
That wolf had red fur and mismatched eyes – he'd never seen a creature like that before. It fought with ice and fire – and stranger than that - the smell… this feeling…he couldn't explain it. If a creature like that was wandering the mountains, why hadn't he encountered it in the three years he'd been visiting? Why hadn't Akuma picked up its scent? How can an animal have a quirk? Why did he feel so… weird?
Huffing impatiently, Bakugo rakes his uninjured hand through his dirtied ash blond hair. He slides from his bed to the floor, red eyes turning to examine the brightening clouds from outside his window. He grunts and shoves his previous thoughts aside, too tired to over-complicate things. He pulls Akuma into an embrace that makes the dog yelp, snapping at Bakugo's fingers, before whining and licking his owner's hands. The blond scowls at the action but ignores it, comforting his startled and jumpy dog by softly stroking Akuma's belly. The dog's racing heartbeat settles and Bakugo feels him physically relax in his hold.
He does not sleep until daybreak.