#the wolf from hunter x hunger but when he was human um.

[dangopango00]

Mfs will have an unpopular fave and be like “More for me!” And then the more for me in question is two fanfics and a jar of toenails (im mfs)

[pixxiesdust]

Crimson Snow (pt. 2) • Bakugou Katsuki

Summary • We all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But all stories, especially ones passed through spoken word, can change with time. This is the true story of a girl who wandered into the forest, wearing a cloak white as snow, and left on the back of a beast with a crimson cape trailing behind her.

Pairing ��� Shifter!Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count • 4.4k

Tags and Warnings • Fairy tale AU, captivity, experimentation, violence, blood, swearing, mentions of nudity, eventual happy ending.

Note • This is part two of a fic for the @bnhabookclub​ Provisional License Exam Event! The lovely @im-here-for-the-heroes​ and @etegomanere​ beta read this fic and were lots of help. I hope you all will enjoy reading this part too!

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

–

Warm huffs of air brush past the side of your head, heating one side of your face. Your head is resting on something that definitely isn’t the folded cloak you had initially laid down on hours ago. In fact, your cloak is draped over your body, keeping you warm. 

You sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, and frown at the cloak as it slips off your shoulders. Did you wake up because of the cold and put it around yourself? Maybe, but you don’t remember waking up at all.

Looking down next to you, your body stiffens in surprise. You had been using the wolf’s front legs as a pillow! So that’s where the warm air came from: the exhales of the sleeping wolf. 

You have no clue how you got onto his front legs and spread the cloak over yourself while you were sleeping, but you’re distracted as your stomach growls and clenches uncomfortably in hunger. It’s likely been a full day since you last ate. And the plate of scraps that the hunter left behind might be the only food you’ll have for another twenty-four hours.

So you get to your feet, still careful of putting your weight on your right one, and limp toward the plate. The chain stops you at a short distance away. You frown at the plate that the hunter placed on the wolf’s half of the room.

“He probably did that on purpose, the bastard,” you mutter as you sink to your knees and lay entirely on the ground, arms outstretched toward the plate.

Your fingertips brush against the rim of it, but no matter how hard you wiggle and reach, you can’t actually pull the plate toward you. The metal shackle around your left ankle starts to rub at your skin uncomfortably. Thank goodness you didn’t try to do this while the hunter was still here, or he’d probably get some sort of sick amusement from watching you struggle.

Sighing, you rest your forehead on the cold stone floor with a little thunk. The pain makes you wince, and you push yourself up with your forearms to stare forlornly at the plate. It doesn’t even look that good, you try to tell yourself, but your stomach growls again, reminding you of your hunger. 

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you turn onto your side so you’re facing the waking wolf. 

“Morning,” you say, although you’re not confident in the time of day. Spending hours in a dungeon without windows is already throwing off your internal clock. 

The wolf yawns, showing its sharp teeth, and for a moment, you wonder if it was wise to take off the silver band that had kept his muzzle shut. But then again, you had just slept right on top of him and he hadn’t bitten your head off or anything. 

His mouth closes, and he gets to his feet, shaking his fur out in a motion that causes the chains on his limbs and collar to rattle. He pads toward you, but walks right past you to the plate of scraps, and you watch mournfully as he sniffs the air above the food. 

Closing your eyes, you expect to hear the sounds of the wolf gulping down the food, but you hear something scrape across the stone floor instead. Your eyes pop open as the wolf nudges the plate toward you until it’s within your reach. As soon as you pull the plate toward you, the wolf turns away and settles back down in the spot he was in when he woke up.

“I– you– thank you!” you tell him, astonished. You sit up and fold your legs under you, rub your hands as best you can on your dress, and start digging into the food. There are pieces of bread crust on the plate, and you eat them first, taking large bites of it with relish even though it’s dry and scratches your throat as you swallow. You pair the bread crust with the boiled pieces of carrot, which are cold and a little slimy. 

You’re about to start working on the scraps of meat left on your plate when your eyes drift over to the wolf. His eyes are closed and he looks to be asleep once again. His back rises and falls with every breath he takes, and as you study him, you see the protrusion of his ribs through his matted and dirty fur. You haven’t seen the hunter feed him since you were put in the dungeon with the wolf, you realize. And the wolf definitely has been through a lot more pain and torture than you. 

You eye the bits of meat again. They look so appetizing even though they undoubtedly are scraps and leftovers. But the wolf had helped you get the plate instead of eating the food off it himself, and you should return the favor. 

Nodding to yourself now that you’ve made up your mind, you get onto your feet, pick up the plate, and walk back over to the wolf. The chain rattles and bumps against the stones as you drag it along the floor beside you. Sitting down in front of the wolf, you slide the plate across the ground until it rests before his nose.

You can’t help but giggle as his nose twitches, no doubt smelling the food before him, but you still as his red eyes suddenly snap open to look into your own eyes. He seems to be glaring at you for laughing at him, and you hide your amusement at such a human-like response. He really is as smart as a human, you think.

But although the wolf seems tempted by the smell of the food, he nudges the plate back towards you. 

You frown, then push the plate to him. “Eat,” you say sternly. 

A quiet growl ripples in his throat as he slides the plate back to you. 

You push the plate back at him and lean forwards. “This,” you say, pointing at the meat, “is yours!” You jab your finger at the wolf. “I already had half of the food, so it’s only fair that you get the other half. I’m certainly not going to just let you starve! You’ve definitely been here longer than me, and the stupid hunter treats you worse than he does me, so there’s no way that he’s been feeding you as much as he should. So you better eat it, because I certainly will not, and there’s no way that you can force me to.” With that, you huff out a breath, cross your arms across your chest, and stick your nose up in the air.

The wolf stares at you for a long moment. Then he slowly lowers his head and starts eating the pieces of food left on the plate.

“Good,” you say softly, letting your arms fall back to your side. Your stomach definitely isn’t full, but it warms you to see the wolf eating something too. 

You lay down on the floor, moving an arm under your head. Staring up at the ceiling, your eyes follow the cracks in between the stones as you start talking. 

“I miss home,” you say, voice quiet. You don’t notice the wolf looking up from his food. “I was on my way to visit Grandmother, you know, before the hunter snatched me off the road. She must be getting worried since I haven’t arrived yet. She’s not really my grandmother, but I’ve known her for years since my mother always took me to her when I was sick, and she insists I call her Grandmother.

“Anyways, I was going to bring her supplies from the village since she doesn’t like leaving her house for too long when the hunter caught me and brought me here. I normally stay at her house for a couple days, so my father won’t notice that I’m gone for a while. He’s been, um, distant, for a long time—ever since my mom died five years ago.” You swallow hard and close your eyes for a moment, picturing your mother’s smile.

“My dad just works every day and visits the tavern at night. He’s not a bad parent, really,” you say, looking at the wolf when he growls. “His grief just consumes him, and he has a hard time coping. I’ve learned to take care of myself, though! It-it probably doesn’t excuse him from being so absent, but I do understand his pain. She was his wife, but she was my mother.” Your voice cracks on the last word, and a tear slips out the corner of your eye and starts trailing down the side of your face.

You lay there in silence as the wolf finishes up the last bits of meat. After a few more tears escape, you huff out a shaky breath and wipe your face on the front of your dress. “I’m okay,” you say, more for yourself to hear than the wolf.

“Thanks for listening,” you tell him, moving closer to pick up the plate and set it off to the side, so the hunter hopefully won’t notice that you gave the wolf some of the food.

The wolf gets to his feet and pads toward you. Your eyes widen, but you don’t back away, waiting to see what he’ll do. His chains are pulled to their full length, but the wolf stretches his head out to gently nudge his nose into your shoulder. He bumps it once, twice, then backs away, pacing back and forth across the dungeon floor.

You watch him do this for a bit, the corners of your lips tilting upwards in a small smile. The wolf sometimes acts so human. That must have been why you told him about your mother and your father—something you haven’t talked to anyone except Grandma about in a very long time.

The wolf suddenly stops, ears perking up and tilting towards the doorway of the dungeon. A low growl fills the room. You stiffen. He’s coming. You lunge towards the cloth bandage and pick it up.

“C’mon!” you hiss at the wolf, who is already loping towards you with long strides. Unlike the previous time, you have to tie the makeshift bandage around his muzzle, which takes precious seconds as your fingers tremble with nerves. With the bandage secure, you grab the silver band and slide it over the wolf’s nose, tightening the sliding bolts once the metal rests over the cloth. “There,” you whisper, then quickly scoot back towards the wall, eyes trained on the doorway to the dungeon.

The hunter steps through the doorway, gloved hands tucked into crisply pressed pants. He stalks across the room, once again making his way to the table to pick up yet another syringe. 

A sour taste fills your mouth. The wolf was in so much pain last time. And his pain seemed to increase with every single injection. How bad would it be now? 

You get to your feet and start walking towards the wolf, hiding a wince every time you step on your right foot. It’s only been hours since you cut yourself on the glass pieces of the syringe, and though the cuts have stopped bleeding, it’s painful whenever you put weight on it. When you reach the wolf, you collapse to your knees and wrap your arms around his head, glaring at the hunter. 

“Don’t you dare!” you shout.

The hunter grasps onto your right arm with his free hand and rips you away from the wolf, throwing you to the ground a few feet away. Your head bounces off the stone, and pain immediately radiates from the point of impact. He pushes the needle deep into the wolf’s neck and presses down on the plunger. The misty purple liquid drains out of the syringe and enters the wolf, who immediately starts shaking. A moment later, a pained howl rips from the wolf’s throat and bounces off the dungeon walls, only adding to the throbbing in your head.

Pulling the syringe away from the wolf’s neck, the hunter tosses the syringe onto the table instead of placing it back with his usual meticulousness. Instead, he picks up a knife off the wall of torture devices and stalks towards you as you push yourself to sit up from the ground. He’s moving so quickly that you can’t pull your hand away before his well-shined shoe crushes the fingers of your left hand, grinding bone into the stone floor.

His knife-free hand grabs your chin and tilts it up toward him. You’re stretched out, fingers trapped under his shoe while being pulled upward by your chin. “Do you have anything else to say? Beg for mercy?” the hunter asks, yellow eyes narrowing. 

Pain runs from your fingers, up your arms, through your neck, only adding to the pain in your head. However, you are determined to stay strong and not give in to him. If you do, that just means you let him win. So you lock away the pain for a moment, letting a glare heat your eyes. “I would never beg to the likes of you. So as I said before, go screw yourself!”

“Then it is time for you to be punished,” the hunter says, dragging the tip of the knife lightly along your collarbone. “You brought this upon yourself, and no pleading can save you.” 

He puts pressure on the knife, the sharp edge splitting your skin. It burns! You whimper and struggle in his grip, trying to pull away from him, but the hunter only presses down harder, drawing the knife across your collarbone. Something wet and thick flows from the wound, seeping into the neckline of your dress.

The hunter lifts his knife off your skin and moves to make another cut when the wolf struggles to his feet, growling. The wolf lunges for the hunter, butting his head into the hunter’s legs. Although the wolf’s muzzle is clamped shut by the silver band, the wolf somehow creates a gap in his teeth and bites at the hunter’s ankles. The hunter drops his knife in surprise, and the blade skitters across the stone floor until it hits the wall. He steps off your hand, whirling around to face the wolf. “You’re a filthy beast, and you clearly do not want to be saved. If your bite does anything to me, then I will be forced to dispose of you.” 

He kicks the wolf hard, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling onto its side. Although you keep shouting for the hunter to stop, the hunter keeps kicking, even when the wolf is down, until a snap bounces off stone walls.  

–

Chisaki Kai steps back, breathing heavily in anger and repulsion, then walks out of the room, blood oozing out of the bite in his ankle. He stalks into his living room, ripping the gloves off his hands and throwing them into the fireplace, watching as flames engulf the leather and consumes it in a burst of sparks. “Chronostasis!” he says, low and commanding, despite the sweat beading on his skin.

Chronostasis appears, with a new pair of gloves, some disinfectant, a clean towel, and fresh bandages. Chisaki Kai slips the gloves on, and his breaths start to level out as he sits on the couch and cleans out the bite from the wolf.

He knows shifters can’t turn humans into shifters just from a bite, but his skin still crawls at the thought of the filthy wolf’s teeth sinking into his skin. Pouring the disinfectant over the wound, he does not flinch at the sting of alcohol, and wipes the blood away with the towel before wrapping it up with a bandage. 

Chisaki Kai stands up and faces Chronostasis. “The shifter is acting more repulsive than usual. So is the girl. But a couple more doses of the nightshade formula should get rid of the wolf forever.”

–

You wince as your fingers gently touch the edge of the cut that the hunter left in your skin. Blood has trickled down your collarbone until it seeped into the white of your dress, staining the lace and cloth of the neckline a vivid crimson. Your left hand is throbbing from being crushed under the hunter’s shoe, but right now, you’re more concerned about the wolf.

He saved you from the hunter’s torture, although he had just been injected by the purple substance that caused him pain. He even bit the hunter, even though he must have hurt himself more to get his jaws open in the silver band. And the hunter had retaliated, kicking the wolf over and over again. You think you heard the snap of bone, maybe a rib that had cracked from the force.

So you crawl over to the wolf, who has fallen unconscious and whimpers with every exhale, and gently press your lips to his head. “Thank you,” you whisper as tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you.”

There’s nothing you can do for him except to lift his head onto your lap and remove the silver band. A sob escapes your mouth as you catch sight of the bandage underneath. The white has been eaten up by red, and blood is starting to seep into his fur.

You rip up two strips of cloth from your dress and remove the current bandage, tears dripping down your face when you see the deep gash that rings his muzzle as a result of struggling to open his mouth to save you. The first piece of cloth almost immediately soaks through with blood, so you layer the next bandage on top. It’s not much, but the wolf’s whimpers eventually taper off.

You don’t understand why the wolf saved you like that—wasn’t he just an animal? You shouldn’t have mattered to him. But he did save you, and he paid the price, so you can only keep him as comfortable as possible and keep watch as he rests.

With his head in your lap and your hand stroking the fur between his ears, your eyelids get heavier and heavier; it’s a struggle to open them back up again after every blink. Eventually, lulled by the deep breaths of the wolf, you doze off, head nodding forwards, drifting away from the pain in your head, your hand, and your heart.

–

You come to with a jolt, body jerking upwards as you prevent yourself from crashing onto the floor. Next time, you note, don’t fall asleep sitting up. 

There’s a weight in your lap, and you remember resting the wolf’s head there, but when you look down, you blink once, twice. Then you rub at your eyes with the back of your hand—your fingers are crusted over with red from your blood and the wolf’s blood. 

He’s still there.

No, not the wolf. The young man with his head of spiky blonde hair right between your legs. “What the hell?” you hiss, heart pounding in your chest as you scramble to push his head off you—though you do take care to not let his head hit the ground hard.

And then your eyes travel down from this- this stranger’s head and trace over an exposed and sculpted neck, chest, torso, and–

Your face is getting warmer, and you turn your head away, but your eyes slide back over to the expanse of skin and muscle that are littered with scars and cuts and dirt and blood. You hesitate when he shivers and curls in on himself, then you unclasp your cloak from your shoulders and drape it over his body. 

He shifts as the cloth settles down around him, and his eyes slowly open, still heavy with sleep. You quickly scoot back so that you’re not within reach. “Who are you?” you ask, questions spilling out of your mouth, “How did you get here? What happened to the wolf? Why are you not wearing clothes?”

He sits up before looking down at himself, spotting your cloak that has now slipped down to his waist. You keep your eyes steadily on his face, not letting them stray to his chest. His eyes move up to meet yours, and you notice that they’re an unusual crimson. The last time you’d seen eyes like that was—the wolf. And his hair! It’s wild and sticks up all over the place, but the blonde is very similar to the wolf's coat. But that’s not possible, is it? 

His lips curl up in a smirk as he sees your eyes widen in recognition, then disbelief. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki, and it’s a name you better not forget.”

“You’re–” you stutter, trying to figure out how to word the thoughts in your head without him, Bakugou, thinking that you’re crazy. “Are you–”

“–a werewolf?” he finishes for you, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, dumbass, that’s a made-up term for stories and fairytales. We call ourselves shifters.”

“‘We?’ So there’s more of you.”

Bakugou nods but doesn’t elaborate. He’s sure that you won’t betray him to Overhaul—he hasn’t smelled deception on you since you were thrown into the dungeon with him—but he has learned to be cautious anyway. Too much pain can loosen nearly anyone’s lips. 

You’re a little disappointed that you can’t learn more about a whole new type of people that basically have been living in your backyard. “So how’d you end up here?” you ask instead.

Bakugou shifts to a more comfortable position. You avert your eyes when he rearranges the cloak around him, but look back at him when he starts speaking. He tells you of the trap the hunter—Overhaul, you learn—and Chronostasis set up for a group of the younger shifters. Recovery Girl had told them–

“Wait, wait! Did you say Recovery Girl? She’s Shuuzenji Chiyo, right? But she’s Grandmother, the one I was going to visit!”

“Yeah, she’s our healer. But stop fucking interrupting me! Do you want me to continue? Huh?”

You suppress a smile at his curses. Just a few minutes of speaking with him told you that he regularly used them in his speech, though he usually didn’t use them with the intent to hurt feelings. Those words are just how he expresses himself. “Sorry, Bakugou! Please continue.”

“Yeah, yeah, so anyway…” Recovery Girl had told the shifters that wildlife has been found dead in one section of the forest for a while, though most of the carcasses are untouched. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, so Bakugou and other young shifters were sent to investigate.

When they got to the area and spread out to start looking for the animals, Overhaul and Chronostasis attacked. They had gone for one of Bakugou’s friends—though Bakugou insisted that he wasn’t “friends with that Shitty Hair!”—and Bakugou jumped in front of his friend to take the arrow. His friends had tried to fight back against Overhaul and Chronostasis, but they had used Bakugou as a hostage.

“...and those fuckers put me down here, and I haven’t been out since. It’s been two weeks now, and they give me those injections at least once a day.”

You exhale heavily. Although Bakugou has a fierce scowl on his face and sounds angry, you think he’s glad that his friends got away, even at his expense. “What is Overhaul trying to do to you with those injections? They look painful every time.”

Bakugou scoffs, tugging at the collar around his neck. “No shit, they’re painful. It’s something that includes wolfsbane, which hurts wolf shifters if it gets in our bodies. In high enough doses, they can kill one completely.

“But he just gives a little each time when I’m in my wolf form to try and ‘purify’ me from being a shifter. I couldn’t fucking hold my wolf form anymore after the last one, which is why I shifted in my sleep.”

Your eyes widen. As cruel as you thought Overhaul was back when you only knew Bakugou as a wolf, it’s even more inhumane that he’s trying to remove an entire half of Bakugou’s identity. “Will you be able to shift back? In a bit?”

“Yeah,” he rasps in response, “But if Overhaul keeps it up for long, I won’t be able to shift at all.”

“Oh.”

The two of you fall silent for a while, lost in thought. Bakugou’s fists clench and unclench every once in a while, as if he’s attempting to shift. At this rate, he’s going to cut his own hands with his nails, so you decide to try and distract him.

“Don’t you want to know how I ended up here?” you ask.

“I can remember every damn thing that happens in my wolf form, so your life story a couple hours ago was plenty.”

“You- you remember everything?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Bakugou looks up at you and smirks. “Why, getting embarrassed now?” 

The moments you spent with the wolf flash through your mind. Stroking his head. Bandaging him. Kissing his forehead. “Oh, goodness, no,” you moan, burying your face in your hands.

He snickers at your flustered response. “Oh, hell, yes.”

You spend the next few moments in silence, waiting until you’re less embarrassed and are ready to face him again. You lift your head back up. “So, what now? Do you have a plan to get out of here? 

Bakugou stares at you, then snarls, “Of course I have a plan! What do you think I spend all my time doing here, huh? Dreaming about daisies or some frilly shit like that? Here’s my fucking plan: remove these stupid chains,” he rattles the ones around his wrists for emphasis, “and leave this fucking place!”

You blink at him, once, then twice. “Is that it?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No, no! Not at all! I was just hoping for something more...specific?”

Bakugou scoffs. “The details are up here,” he taps the side of his head, then places his hand on his knee and leans forward. His red eyes lock onto yours, keeping your attention. “But things can change, so they could end up being useless anyway.”

“Hm, okay,” you say. “You kind of have a point. So get out of these chains, and get out of this place. When do we start?”

“Of course I have a point. Pick up that knife over there.” He nods toward the knife Overhaul was using on you, that had skittered across the ground when Bakugou bit him. 

“We start now.” 

–

Taglist • @steggy4ever​ @tspice283​ @wesparklebitch​