Bakudeku/Dekubaku Oneshots AU

⚠️Omegaverse Version 4 (18+)⚠️

With a rough, silent growl Katsuki shook himself off, the large Alpha huffing and grunting as he messes with his hair, shaking the icicles starting to form at the edges of the drooping strands off. They shatter against his shaking hands and drop into the piling snow as Katsuki finally decides what to do.

He trudges onward. Undeterred, he raises his long legs and stomps down, taking overexaggerated, staggering steps through the thick snow continuing to pile up around him. As much as he fucking hated the cold, he didn't give a shit that his toes were starting to numb, and his face was slack with the frigid cold; he needed to find his fated.

If not for his own soul feeling whole, for his sire and dam, who have egged him on to find him! for years. He couldn't take another failed expedition to find his mate and come back mateless and alone.

If his hag of a sire teased him once more, he was going to rip her head off.

-----

Katsuki wouldn't deny he nearly cried in relief when he found broken, old houses miles into his trek, but he... nearly did. The houses were clearly weather-wore and old, but Katsuki didn't care. He had to choke back relieved tears and lock his exhausted legs from crumbling under him in relief. He walked forward quickly, sluggishly kicking plumes of snow up as he did. His hands cramped as he reached forward, wanting to settle down in one of the less damaged houses - still standing on its own even though the three feet of snow weighed heavy on its crumbling roof. His body was starting to slow down with each step he took, heart racing and head growing dizzy with each pulse of his temple. He was so fucking tired it was awful, but he finally had some semblance of shelter he could pass out in safely and wait out till the snowstorm hopefully thinned in the coming hours.

Katsuki slid his hands down the worn wood, the rough edges and splintered wood catching on his gloves as he did. The splintered wood - old, decaying, and rough - picked at the fraying strands of his wool gloves, tugging on them as Katsuki shook his hand. He was so exhausted, but he was elated to have somewhere to sleep, finally.

As he stepped closer to the entrance of the building, the old rotting door barely hanging onto rusted hinges, Katsuki felt his neck prickle, his instincts rearing their ugly head.

He was being watched. His body stilled as his skin buzzed with the knowledge. Even through the thick snow - which hazed his vision out less than five feet in front of him - he wouldn't have thought anything of the sudden feeling, most likely shaking it off without a thought. But Katsuki wasn't stupid. Even through the barren plane of a never-ending blizzard and cold, Katsuki knew something was watching him. He had far too many run-ins with dangerous animals and bandits for him to question his innate instincts that had been finely tuned over the last five years.

If it was a rabbit or a fox, he wouldn't have felt this sudden urge to grab the hilt of his knife situated at his hip. There was no telling what was behind the sheet of snow pouring from the high heavens. All he knew is that his instincts deemed it a threat and Katsuki was in no fighting shape to tussle with something possibly extremely dangerous. Even though he knew it couldn't be a bear - they were deep into hibernation at this point - there was still the possibility of an early-rising bear or a pack of wolves hungry for an easy meal.

"Shit..." Katsuki whispered under his breath, the hissed words blowing away with the heavy breeze curling through the barren, run-down little village. His hands are frozen in the air, and his body is stock stiff, his muscles buzzing and curling under his skin in rapid motions, spasming with how still he keeps his body.

With a slow, deliberate turn of his feet - making his ankles cross in the motion - he turned to face the harsh sheet of wind and snow blowing past him. He rights his footing, staring head-on as he watches. His instincts have been fine-tuned for this entire reason, hunting even when he cannot see. Waiting, watching, hearing. The sound of soft snow crunching makes his skin crawl and his ears prick, carmine eyes sharp and steady, roving the quiet village. The feeling of eyes roving over his tense frame makes his teeth grind, goosebumps following that slow, deliberate rove of his clothed body.