What Wakes in the Dark

by SUSURRXUS

Summary:

Izuku Midoriya has spent his whole life hiding what he is. Passing as a Beta, taking suppressants, slipping away every three months for his heat. He’s built his world on routine and secrecy, and it’s worked… until now.

A sudden villain attack in a neighbouring city forces U.A. into lockdown, keeping every student confined to the dorms until the threat is neutralised. Inconvenient, but manageable.

Except Izuku’s heat chooses that exact moment to start.

With nowhere to hide and his body working against him, Izuku scrambles to keep control as the walls close in, and his classmates begin to notice what he’s been concealing for years - including one very volatile blond Alpha who was never meant to find out.

And when Izuku and Katsuki wake up in the same bed, the question isn’t just what happened…

It’s what happens next.

---

This is a rewrite of Mina Ashido Approves of this Ship, which can still be found on my account! This version is cleaner and toned down in areas that did NOT need pages of description. Hope you enjoy this polished version as it's uploaded!

Chapter 1: Matter of Seconds

Izuku zipped his suitcase shut with the kind of quiet satisfaction that came from pretending everything was fine. Clothes packed. Suppressants measured out. Departure plan airtight.

 

At least, it was until the screaming started.

 

It wasn’t real screaming - just the TV - but the sound had that raw, hollow quality that made your body react before your mind caught up. Izuku paused, hand still resting on the suitcase handle, and listened. The static didn’t help. It grated, as if the whole dorm were vibrating.

 

He stepped into the hallway and glanced into the common room.

 

There was already a crowd in the lounge, filling the space between the olive couches and mismatched armchairs. Some were standing, arms folded; others sat perched on the edges of cushions, legs shaking out their nerves. No one spoke. They didn’t need to - the footage did enough.

 

Kaminari noticed him first. He shifted over on the arm of the chair, tapping the cushion beside him in invitation. Izuku sat, spine tight.

 

On the TV, Kamino City burned in real time. The camera shook as a silver-blue tore through a street, leaving the kind of destruction that didn’t look deliberate so much as uncontrolled.

 

Izuku swallowed. The room had that charged quiet - the kind heroes had before a callout - except none of them were allowed to move.

 

Or help.

 

And that was the part that made everyone restless.

 

Jiro let out a low, disgusted noise. “That’s vile. He’s not even trying to contain himself.” Her plug-like earlobes twitched with agitation; Ojiro huffed in agreement from across the room.

 

The reporter’s voice crackled over the static:

 

“The rogue known as Silver Shadow continues to rampage across Kamino. His quirk remains unidentified. Authorities have confirmed he is in an Alpha. Pro heroes Astralcation and Vertigo are attempting to stall him until reinforcements arrive-”

The screen flicked to black. A chorus of protests erupted, and Iida awkwardly lowered the remote as if it had bitten him.  

 

“Apologies,” he said, adjusting his glasses with the righteous tremble he always got. “I simply believe feeding heightened emotions helps no one. The smell of anger in the room is… overwhelming.”

 

“We can’t all help it, though, Iida,” Hagakure chimed in - just a floating shirt flickering with attitude. “You ever met an Alpha’s temper? Or an Omega’s nerves?”

 

Before Iida could answer, a familiar voice cut through the room like a spark to gunpowder.

 

“Funny. Didn’t know we had any Omegas around here.”

 

Izuku froze. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was - his body knew before his mind did. Katsuki stepped into view, eyes locked on him with a slow, sharp recognition that always made Izuku’s pulse misbehave.

 

“You say something, nerd?” Katsuki asked, voice low and dismissive in a way that always felt too close.

 

“N- no, Kacchan.”Izuku’s gaze dropped automatically, like instinct - or biology - or both. Katsuki’s pheromones hit like a pressure change, subtle but unmistakable.  

 

“Thought so. Your muttering’s getting on my nerves.”

 

“Now isn’t the time,” Yaoyorozu sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Katsuki ignored her, but Izuku felt the tension drift off him as the Alpha’s attention moved away. Relief washed through him like cool air. 

 

Uraraka cleared her throat, bravely. “Should we, you know… do something? We’re heroes in training.”

 

Ashido threw an arm around her. “Exactly! We can’t just sit here.”

 

They didn’t get far - footsteps approached, and Katsuki growled his greeting before the person even arrived.

 

“Well, look who crawled out of bed. Join the party, Half-and-Half.”

 

Todoroki didn’t acknowledge him. Barely looked up from his phone as he crossed the room and sat on the arm of Izuku’s chair, eyes still half-lidded with leftover sleep.

 

Izuku leaned slightly toward him without even meaning to. His body just relaxed when Todoroki was nearby - a familiarity born from constant training and quiet companionship.

 

Todoroki finally spoke, ignoring Katsuki entirely. “Did any of you get this message?”

 

Right on cue, everyone’s phones buzzed.

 

Izuku looked when Todoroki angled the screen toward him. Aizawa’s name. Priority alert, UA’s internal comms.

 

Which meant trouble.

 

   Following the attack reports, all of Class 3-A should report to the training field immediately.

Everyone’s phones lit up with the same notification. Todoroki passed his device to Izuku, who read the message twice just to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted it.

 

Aizawa didn’t send messages like this unless something was genuinely wrong.

 

“Why did you get it first?” Izuku asked, handing the phone back.

 

“No Clue,” Todoroki replied, pocketing it. “Reception hates everyone equally. Must’ve glitched.”

 

The class was already buzzing. Uraraka and Iida were discussing logistics; Ashido and Tsuyu shifted to make space on the couch; Yaoyorozu tugged lightly on Todoroki’s sleeve to get his attention. The steady hum of nervous conversation filled the lounge in quick, overlapping threads.

 

Izuku tried not to stare as Todoroki leaned down to speak quietly to her. Their dynamic always seemed so effortless - calm even when the situation wasn’t

 

Katsuki’s voice cut through the room, sharp as ever. “Can we get moving? Standing around here whining won’t do shit.”

 

He stalked toward the wall and planted himself there, arms crossed, jaw tight. Izuku didn’t comment; he’d already used up his bravery quota for the day.

 

Uraraka clapped her hands once. “Alright! Training grounds. Now.”

 

As they made their way towards the double doors of the dorm, the same thought nagged at all of them:

 

Why gather the entire class?

 

Why now?

 

Izuku swallowed. He didn’t like that there were too many questions and not enough answers.

 

He especially didn’t like that his packed suitcase was still upstairs. 

 

---

 

It became evident that something was wrong the second they reached the training fields.

 

Nearly the entire school was there - Support, General, Hero, Business - everyone clustered in little circles, talking in confused bursts that had no real answers behind them. The air felt unsettled, like they’d all been pulled out of their routines too quickly to adjust.

 

“Midoriya.”
 

 

Izuku looked over and gave a small smile as Shinso approached, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, eyes scanning the crowd.

 

“Hey. You Alright?” Izuku asked.
 

 

“Confused,” Shinso said with a dry shrug. “But that’s my default setting, so I guess I’m fine.”
 

 

Izuku huffed a laugh, tension easing for a moment. They’d grown close after the festival - close enough that Shinso could read him better than most. Close enough that he knew secrets no one else did.

 

Like the fact Izuku wasn’t actually a Beta.

 

“Let’s hope this isn’t a crisis-level thing,” Shinso added quietly, lowering his voice further. “Your heat’s coming up soon, right?”
 

 

Izuku’s face went hot instantly. “Yeah. Tomorrow. I was supposed to leave today.”

 

Before Shinso could answer, a familiar booming voice attempted to take over the ground.

 

“STUDENTS! NEVER FEAR, BECAUSE I AM H- mmph!”

 

All Might was promptly muffled by the white capture scarf wrapped across his mouth. Aizawa appeared beside him, looking the same level of exhausted he always did, which somehow made everything feel more serious.

 

Most of the staff stood behind them - Present Mic bouncing on his heels, Midnight looking impatient, Cementoss steady and silent. Only Nezu and Recovery Girl were missing.

 

Katsuki’s voice cut across the crowd, sharp as a thrown knife. “Come on! What’s the damn point of dragging all of us out here!?”

 

Aizawa didn’t flinch. “Language, Bakugo. And I’ll explain.”

 

The field quietened. Even the general murmuring faded. Izuku noticed, with a sinking feeling, that many of the other classes weren’t reacting. They looked confused. Lost. That meant they hadn’t seen the news.

 

Class 3-A was the only one with a TV wired for emergency broadcasts.

 

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s an ongoing rogue attack in Kamino. Pro heroes are responding, but reinforcements are required. We’re being deployed to assist.”

 

Shinso nudged Izuku. “Okay, that’s…. Bad. But teachers have gone on missions before. Why bring the whole school out here?”

 

Izuku nodded, unsettled. “There has to be more.”

 

Present Mix jumped forward dramatically. “AND THERE IS!”

 

Aizawa ignored him. “As staff, we’ll be leaving the campus. Principal Nexu has requested that all students stay in their dorms until further notice. Anyone without a dorm room will be given emergency accommodation.”

 

He let the words settle.

 

“In short, you are not allowed to leave school grounds. No exceptions.”

 

The reaction was immediate and loud - protests, confusion, frustration, and, of course, the sound of an uncontrolled quirk going off.

 

Specifically, Katsuki’s.

 

Kirishima went flying backwards with a grunt, though hardened skin kept him from actual injury.

 

Izuku didn’t hear any of it.

 

His heartbeat drowned out everything else.

 

A lockdown.

 

No leaving UA.

 

His suppressants weren’t strong enough to last that long - especially not under stress. His scent would break through. Someone would notice. Someone would question. Someone would connect the dots.

 

That someone could easily be an Alpha.

 

His chest tightened so fast he didn’t register he had stopped breathing until the dizziness hit hard. The ground felt too far away. The air felt too thick. His knees nearly gave out, but Shinso was already there, guiding him down to sit before he tipped over completely.

 

“Midoriya. Hey. Hey,” Shinso said firmly, hands steady on Izuku’s knees. “If you can hear me, nod.”

 

Izuku forced himself to, even though his vision was blurring at the edges.

 

“Good. Breathe with me. In… hold it… now out.”
 

 

Izuku followed, shaky at first, the steadier. The roaring in his ears faded. The field came back into focus. His lungs stopped battling him.

 

“You with me?” Shinso asked.

 

Izuku nodded again. Yeah. That - sorry. That was bad timing.”

 

“You think?” Shinso deadpanned softly, but he squeezed Izkuku’s shoulder before helping him stand.

 

Izuku brushed the grit off his uniform pants and tried to pull himself together. Old habits - hiding the cracks before anyone else saw them.

 

Yaoyorozu noticed anyway. She took a step forward, brows knitted in concern, but Izuku lifted a hand to signal he was fine. After a hesitant second, she stayed where she was.

 

Aizawa’s phone buzzed. A glance later, he straightened.

 

“We’re needed. Students, head to your dorm buildings. Those without rooms go to the cafeteria. Expect lockdown procedures to last approximately one week. This is for your safety.”

 

With that, the teachers left. All Might gave Izuku an apologetic nod before turning away.

 

Izuku tried anyway. “All Might! Wait - I need to talk to you, it’s important!”

 

The hero paused. “I’m sorry, Young Midoriya. It will have to wait until I return. If this is about your mother, all parents are being contacted.”

 

And he was gone.

 

Izuku’s pulse thudded. A week in a dorm full of Alphas and Betas while his heat approached as worse than dangerous - it was impossible.

 

No matter how much he trusted them, trust didn’t erase biology.

 

Shinso leaned closer. I’ve gotta go - they’re moving the General Ed students elsewhere.” He smirked faintly. “And yes, I know I’d make a great hero student. You’d reminded me twenty-seven times.”

 

Izuku almost laughed. “Because it’s true.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Shinso lifted two fingers in a lazy goodbye and left with the rest of the school.

 

Which left Izuku standing alone with Class 3-A… and a ticking clock inside his chest.

 

Suppressants fading.

 

Scent rising.

 

And Alphas everywhere.

 

He swallowed.

 

He needed a plan.

 

Now. 

 

---

 

The crowd thinned fast once the teachers were gone. Students peeled off in groups, heading towards their dorm buildings, a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance on their faces. Lockdown wasn’t new territory - but a week? That was different.

 

Izuku lingered for a moment, watching Shinso disappear into the flow of General Ed kids. The noise around him felt muted. Too far away. His heartbeat was still too loud. Like it hadn’t caught up with the rest of him.

 

A week. No leaving. No excuse good enough to hide what was coming.

 

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and forced himself to breathe normally. No one could know. If they did… everything he’d built the past two years would crumble. Not because his friends would hate him, but because things would change. They always did; once someone learned an Omega had been right under their nose the whole time.

 

He didn’t want to be handled. Or protected. Or treated like he might break.

 

He wanted to stay Izuku. Not “Omega Izuku.”

 

He joined the rest of Class 2-A as they made their way back to Heights Alliance. Conversations were low and distracted - Ojiro and Sato discussing the attack, Ashido guessing which heroes were responding, Kaminari pointing out how “kind of cool” lockdown sounded until Jiro flicked his ear.

 

No one noticed Izuku’s silence. Or the way he stayed slightly behind the group, putting more distance between himself and the cluster of Alphas without even thinking about it.

 

They reached the dorm doors. Iida held one door open, already in his speech mode.

 

“Everyone, let’s remain calm and follow whatever instructions are issued. Lockdown procedures are-”

 

“Annoying as hell,” Kaminari finished under his breath.

 

Iida ignored him.

 

Izuku stepped into the lounge, pulse spiking as the scents inside hit him stronger than they had outside. Stress sharpened things. Made it harder to keep his own scent tucked away.

 

He swallowed, willing himself not to react to the Alpha scents threading through the room - Katsuki’s sharp and crackling at the edges, Kirishima’s steady and warm, Todoroki’s cool and clean like metal after rain.

 

On a typical day, the suppressants would’ve taken the edge off.

 

Stress had a way of slipping through whatever walls he built.

 

He curled his fingers into the hem of his shirt and headed toward the stairs, keeping his head down.

 

Maybe if I get to my room quickly-

Maybe if I stay quiet-

Maybe if I avoid everyone until lights-out-

 

“Oi.”

 

The voice hit his back like a shove.

 

Izuku froze mid-step.

 

Of course.

 

Of course Katsuki would catch him first.

 

“Deku,” Katsuki said, closer now. “You gonna keep mumbling to yourself, or are you actually gonna use real words?”

 

Izuku turned slower than he meant to. Katsuki stood a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tight - not with anger, but irritation. Or restlessness. Hard to tell with him.

 

“Sorry,” Izuku managed. “I was just… thinking.”

 

“Yeah, no shit. You always are. Loud as hell, too.”

 

Izuku flushed. “I didn’t mean to be.”

 

Katsuki clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing just slightly - not in aggression, but evaluation. Katsuki had always been good at reading him. Too good. He didn’t need pheromones to notice something was off.

 

“What’s your problem anyway?” Katsuki asked. “You look like you’re about to pass out again.”

 

Izuku stiffened. Again?

 

He’d noticed the panic attack.

 

Before Izuku could answer, someone called Katsuki’s name from the kitchen - Kirishima, asking something about rationing snacks for lockdown.

 

Katsuki didn’t look away from Izuku. Not immediately.

 

But then he scoffed, shoved past him with shoulder-brush level contact, and muttered, “Whatever. Just don’t be weird.”

 

Izuku exhaled only when Katsuki walked away.

 

He wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or exposed.

 

Maybe both.

 

Either way, he needed to get upstairs. Now.

 

He turned toward the staircase again-

 

-and stopped dead.

 

Because something was wrong.

 

Something in the air shifted, subtle but definite: his suppressant fading at the edges, losing its grip under adrenaline. It wasn’t obvious yet. No Alpha was looking at him funny.

 

But he could feel it.

 

Like a timer had started.

 

He bolted up the stairs before anyone else could notice.

 

Izuku shut his door quietly behind him - not hurried, just… controlled. He didn’t want anyone downstairs to hear the panic in the way he moved.

 

His suitcase sat where he’d left it, neat and ready. Ready for a trip he wasn’t allowed to take anymore.

 

He exhaled slowly and pressed his palms to his eyes.

 

Think. Think, Izuku. You trained for crisis scenarios - this is just another one.

 

Except this crisis was his biology, counting down.

 

He crossed the room, grabbed his suppressant bottle from the desk, shook it once, twice.

 

He unscrewed the cap.

 

Empty.

 

Izuku blinked.

 

No. No, it couldn’t be empty. Izuku knew he’d used four yesterday, but there should’ve been at least six left. Even low-dose ones. Even the cheap brand he’d been forced to switch to.

 

He stared down into the bottle like more might magically appear.

 

Nothing.

 

His heart thudded once, hard.

 

Okay. Okay - you still have the emergency patch.

 

He dug in his desk drawer, forcing calm into his hands even though they wanted to shake. Papers shifted. Pens clattered. A training notebook slid sideways.

 

Finally - a silver packet at the back.

 

His emergency heat suppressant patch.

 

He grabbed it, ripped it open-

 

And froze.

 

The expiration date printed across the corner was unmistakable.

 

Two months expired.

 

Izuku stared at it long enough to feel something inside him drop straight through the floor. Expired didn’t mean useless - not always - but it did mean unreliable. And unreliable was the last thing he could afford.

 

His throat tightened. His pulse picked up.

 

You can’t panic again, he told himself. Not twice in one day.

 

He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, grounding himself as his therapist had taught him last year. Slow breaths. Feel the pressure. Stay in the room.

 

After a moment, the worst of the dizziness faded.

 

But the fear didn’t.

 

Downstairs, the class was gathering again - chairs scraping, voices stacking over one another in that familiar way. Someone laughed too loud. Someone else hushed them. Kaminari tossed out a joke. Iida was already lecturing about protocol. Ashido was definitely sharing whatever snacks she’d stashed away.

 

All the usual things.

 

All the things he should be down there for.

 

Izuku eased down onto his bed, the expired patch still resting in his hand.

 

He didn’t want to use it. But he might have to. And even then… it wouldn’t last a week. Maybe half a day if he was lucky. Stress accelerated everything. Alphas accelerated everything.

 

He placed the patch gently on the nightstand - the way someone sets down a weapon they’re not ready to use.

 

Downstairs, the conversation grew louder for a moment before settling again.

 

Kirishima’s voice floated up the stairwell. “I’m just saying, bro - if we’re locked in all week, we need a cooking schedule. We can’t eat cereal for seven days.”

 

Then Katsuki’s reply - sharp, irritated, familiar: “I don’t give a shit what you eat. Just don’t touch my pans.”

 

Izuku’s stomach gave a slight, helpless twist.

Katsuki always sounded like that - but recently, there’d been an edge to it, something that felt like a warning.

 

The noise downstairs dipped for a moment, a change in the air he could sense even from his room.

 

Then-

 

“Oi.” Katsuki’s voice came again, quieter. “Do you smell that?”

 

Izuku went cold.

 

Kirishima made a puzzled sound. “Uh… no? Just Todoroki’s weird mint tea.”

 

“Hmph.” Katsuki scoffed, but Izuku could picture the frown on his face. The way he’d angle his head slightly, listening the way Alphas sometimes did without realising it.

 

“Thought I caught something,” Katsuki muttered. “Must be nothing.”

 

Izuku’s hands clenched into fists.

 

His suppressant was fading. Faster than he thought. Fast enough that Katsuki’s instincts twitched, even if he didn’t understand why.

 

Izuku stood abruptly, pacing once, twice, trying to think past the pounding heartbeat in his chest.

 

He needed to fix this.

 

He needed a plan.

 

Now.

 

But before he could even begin forming one, someone knocked - once - on his door.

 

“Izuku?” It was Todoroki’s voice, muffled through the wood. “Are you alright?”

 

Izuku froze.

 

Of all people, Todoroki was the one he didn’t want noticing anything.

 

Because Todoroki noticed everything.

 

Izuku hesitated for a full second before opening the door. Not because he didn’t trust Todoroki  (he trusted him more than most), but because Todoroki had a way of looking at you that made lying nearly impossible.

 

He cracked the door open just enough to see him.

 

Todoroki stood there with his usual calm expression, though his eyes flicked briefly over Izuku’s face in a way that felt… assessing, like he was checking a weather pattern.

 

“You weren’t downstairs,” Todoroki said. “You left quickly.”

 

Izuku’s throat tightened. He forced a smile. “Yeah-yeah, sorry. Just needed a moment. Today’s been a lot.”

 

Todoroki nodded once. “Understandable.”

 

He shifted his weight slightly, arms loose at his sides.

 

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.

 

Izuku almost flinched. Todoroki didn’t ask things without reason. If he asked, it was because he saw something.

 

“I’m fine,” Izuku said. “Just tired. And I think the panic earlier drained me more than I realised.”

 

Todoroki studied him for another beat. His gaze wasn’t invasive - if anything, it was too gentle - but it still scraped close to the truth.

 

“You’re pale,” he said. “And your breathing was shallow when you walked upstairs.”

 

Izuku blinked. “You noticed that?”

 

“You’re loud,” Todoroki said plainly. “Not vocally. Just… in general.”

 

Izuku couldn’t tell whether that was meant to be comforting.

 

Before he could respond, heavy footsteps came up behind Todoroki - sharper, heavier, unmistakably Katsuki.

 

“Why the hell are you two having a pow-wow in the hallway?” Katsuki snapped as he came into view. He wasn’t even looking at Izuku at first - just annoyed on principle.

 

Then he did look.

 

And he stopped.

 

Just for a moment.

 

Small. Barely-there.

 

But enough that Izuku felt his stomach twist.

 

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed before he schooled his face back into irritation.

 

“Tch. Whatever.” He jerked his chin at Todoroki. “Didn’t think you were the type to go checking on people. You bored or something?”

 

Todoroki didn’t react. “Midoriya wasn’t himself.”

 

Katsuki scoffed. “He’s never himself. He’s a walking panic attack.”

 

Izuku’s face heated. “Kacchan-”

 

“What?” Katsuki said, turning to him directly now. “Don’t start crying about it. I’m stating facts.”

 

Izuku opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His chest tightened - not from fear, but from the faintest spike of Alpha scent rolling off Katsuki. Barely noticeable to anyone else. Sharp and electric to Izuku.

 

Katsuki’s frown deepened by a degree. Almost imperceptible, but not to him.

 

“You look weird,” Katsuki said.

 

Izuku’s pulse jumped. “I-what? No. I’m just tired.”

 

“Yeah,” Katsuki muttered, but his eyes didn’t leave Izuku’s face. Or maybe they weren’t looking at his face. Maybe they were trying to figure out why something felt… off.

 

He didn’t know what he was sensing, but he definitely sensed something.

 

Todoroki shifted slightly, stepping half an inch closer to Izuku - subtle, but protective in a quiet, unspoken way.

 

Katsuki’s eyes flicked to the movement, and something in his expression tightened.

 

 

“What’s your problem?” he snapped at Todoroki.

 

“You’re crowding him,” Todoroki replied evenly.

 

“I’m standing here,” Katsuki growled. “You don’t own the damn hallway.”

 

“I didn’t say I did.”

 

Izuku put both hands up quickly. “Guys, guys-please. I’m fine. Really.”

 

Neither of them looked convinced, but they stepped back - barely. The tension didn’t drop; it just stretched thinner.

 

Todoroki exhaled softly. “We’re meeting downstairs. Aizawa wants us in groups while the teachers are gone. You should come down when you’re ready.”

 

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be there soon.”

 

Todoroki gave him one last look - that same calm, steady read - then turned and headed back toward the stairs.

 

Katsuki didn’t move immediately.

 

He lingered.

 

Izuku could feel him thinking. Katsuki didn’t look like he thought deeply about things, but he did - intensely, aggressively, and usually about things he didn’t want to be thinking about at all.

 

Finally, Katsuki clicked his tongue.

 

“You better not pass out again,” he muttered. “I’m not dragging your ass to Recovery Girl.”

 

Izuku managed a breathy laugh. “I won’t.”

 

 

“You better not,” Katsuki said again, quieter this time.

 

Then he turned and followed Todoroki downstairs.

 

Izuku closed his door gently when they were out of sight.

 

His heart was racing.

 

They were starting to notice.

 

And his heat wasn’t even here yet.

 

Izuku waited until he was sure Katsuki and Todoroki were downstairs before he moved away from the door. He paced once, then twice, then stopped because pacing wasn’t going to create new suppressants magically.

 

He grabbed the expired patch off the nightstand again, turning it over in his hands like the date would suddenly change.

 

If I use it now, it won’t last long enough.

If I save it, my scent might break through before nightfall.

If I go downstairs, someone might notice.

If I don’t, someone will definitely notice.

 

It felt like there wasn’t a correct answer - only different ways of losing.

 

He set the patch back down carefully and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

Okay. For now, he needed to act normally. That was step one. Step two would come later, once he figured out how to survive being within arm’s reach of a dozen Alphas for seven days.

 

Downstairs, the voices weren’t loud, but they carried. Everyone had gathered in the lounge, the energy a restless mix of boredom, worry, and denial.

Izuku took one last steadying breath, opened his door, and walked down.

 

---

 

"All I’m saying is I think we should help!” Uraraka insisted, leaning forward over the kitchen table.

 

“That’s suicide, Uraraka,” Iida said, palms raised as though physically trying to slow her down. “There’s obviously a logical reason why we’ve been kept in the dark.”

 

A handful of students were scattered around the kitchen - perched on counters, gathered at the table, or standing with mugs that steamed gently in the dim, warm lighting. Izuku slipped past Todoroki quietly, grabbed the kettle, and poured himself tea into his bright All Might mug.

 

He wrapped both hands around it, letting the heat settle into his skin while he listened.

 

“Logic shouldn’t override instinct,” Uraraka shot back. “You don’t think about logic when a car’s coming at you - you move.”

 

“That is completely unrelated-”

 

“Iida! I want to help!”

 

There wasn’t tension, exactly, but there was a heaviness. Like everyone already knew what the right answer was and just didn’t want to say it first.

 

Todoroki, ever the one to break the silence the wrong way, stepped in.

 

“I agree we should help,” he said plainly, “but have you considered the danger we could cause? We’ve fought villains, sure - but not as a coordinated team against a rogue like this.”

 

Hagakure suddenly popped up from her seat, causing three people to jump.

 

“Come on, Todoroki! We’re not that inexperienced. We’ve literally fought real villains before!”

 

Todoroki blinked in her general direction. “Please don’t call me ‘Todo.’”

 

“Killjoy,” she muttered, sipping from her bunny-shaped mug.

 

Conversation thinned out for a moment, the chatter from the lounge bleeding faintly into the kitchen. Izuku let out a quiet sigh and accidentally made eye contact with Yaoyorozu. She offered a tight, polite smile. He returned it and shifted closer to Iida.

 

“Regardless of what we would prefer to do,” Iida said, regaining traction, “the gates have already been reinforced. We couldn’t leave even with our IDs.”

 

That landed hard. Uraraka’s shoulders dropped.

 

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” she asked softly.

 

“Without a doubt,” Iida reassured, awkwardly patting her shoulder before letting her pull him into a half-hug.

 

“Well,” Yaoyorozu added gently, “they’re Pro Heroes. This is what they do.”

 

Before anyone could respond, Katsuki’s voice came booming from the lounge:

 

“Are you shit-heads done already? We’re trying to watch TV!”

 

Heads spun toward him. He was slumped on the couch’s armrest, glowering at the kitchen like they personally offended him.

 

Iida inhaled, clearly ready to lecture - but Ashido’s grin beat him to it.

 

“Wow,” she cooed, “defending us? Never thought Bakugo would grow a pair of friendship balls.”

 

Katsuki turned slowly. “…What the hell are friendship balls?”

 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, Kacchan,” she teased, leaping away when he lunged for her. He missed and nearly toppled off the armrest.

 

Izuku bristled at the nickname on someone else’s tongue - an old reflex he didn’t like examining too closely.

 

Kirishima poked his head up from where he’d been sitting on the floor. “Yeah, Kacchan.”

 

“Shitty Hair, I swear to god- I will-”

 

“Mhm?” Kirishima raised his brows innocently.

 

Katsuki threw his head back in pure frustration. “Fuuuuuck-”

 

Kirishima laughed, Ashido cackled, Kaminari nearly fell off his chair, and the mood lightened instantly.

 

Jiro nudged Yaoyorozu. “See? Told you - those two are the perfect chaos combo.”

 

Iida rubbed his temples. “This is spiralling rapidly off-topic for my liking-”

 

“You don’t like anything,” Todoroki said flatly.

 

A beat of stunned silence - then Yaoyorozu giggled into her hand.

 

Tokoyami tilted his head. “I would not have pegged you as someone to make jokes, Todoroki.”

 

“I’m full of surprises,” Todoroki replied, completely deadpan.

 

Izuku snorted into his tea. He finished it quickly, rinsed the mug - because if Katsuki found it undone, he’d never hear the end of it - and stepped away from the counter.

 

He needed to prepare. A week trapped in the dorms meant he needed supplies, organisation, and a plan. Clothes. Water. Comfort items. A schedule. Anything to make his heat pass quietly and without raising suspicion.

 

He made it three steps before-

 

“Hey, Deku! Where you going?” Uraraka called brightly.

 

He turned, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ah, just heading to my room.”

 

“Same,” she said with a yawn. “It’s been a long day. Night, Deku!”

 

A chorus of goodnights followed. Izuku smiled weakly.

 

“T-thanks.”

 

“Fucking lightweight…” Katsuki muttered from the couch.

 

Izuku froze at the unexpected softness in Katsuki’s tone - not gentle, just… muted. But when he looked, really looked, Katsuki’s eyes were fixed on him with something raw under the usual fire.

 

It made Izuku’s breath catch.

 

Iida, oblivious, launched into correction mode. “Just because someone values proper rest does not make them a-”

 

“Oh, put a fucking can in it, shitty glasses.”

 

Nevermind.

 

Normal Katsuki was back.

 

All in a matter of seconds.

Chapter 2: Signed Up

Before the birds even started their morning chatter, Izuku sat alone at the kitchen table, bouncing one leg under him out of sheer nerves. He hadn't bothered changing out of his sleep clothes - blue shorts and an old All Might shirt - because he wasn't planning on seeing anyone else awake at this hour. It was only day two of lockdown, and the dorms still felt too full, too loud, too close.

 

Not much had happened since the announcement. Unless you counted the constant stream of minor disasters involving Mineta getting punted across furniture for being himself, which Izuku did not. Mostly, the class had fallen into their usual routine: the early-risers training at ungodly hours, the normal ones waking up around breakfast, and the rest stumbling in wherever they fit.

 

Izuku usually belonged to the second group. But today, like yesterday, he was up long before dawn.

 

Talking to his mom.

 

Are you sure you're okay? -I

 

He watched the message send, then disappear into the empty kitchen light. Inko had woken from another nightmare, and he was doing what he always did - grounding her, reassuring her, pretending he wasn't unravelling himself.

 

Yes, don't worry your little head about it, Izu x -M

 

He smiled faintly at the nickname.

 

But Mom, I was supposed to be home right now. Remember? -I

 

And that was the part that wouldn't leave his head.

 

The part that made his stomach twist every time he remembered the suitcase still packed in his room.

 

If he'd been allowed to go home before lockdown, he'd be safe.

 

His heat would be managed.

 

He wouldn't be trapped in a dorm full of Alphas with nothing but suppressants that were already starting to fail.

 

He still hadn't forgiven All Might for brushing him off at the training grounds. Not completely.

 

Yes, honey, but Aizawa said isolation. You know how it is. -M

 

Because of a stupid attack in the NEXT town over! -I

The coast should be clear by now. -I

The villain isn't even high-class. -I

 

His thumbs hammered the screen faster with each message. He always texted like this when his emotions piled up too quickly.

 

A couple of minutes passed before her reply blinked in.

 

You're so headstrong it worries me. -M

 

Izuku sighed and rested his forehead in his hand. He could picture her perfectly: curled on the couch with a blanket, checking UA updates like they were stock prices, waiting for someone to tell her her son was still alive.

 

He took his time typing this one.

 

Sorry, Mom. -I

 

She replied almost right away, her tone easy to hear even through the screen.

 

Just make sure you're being careful. Your instincts are good, but your teachers know what they're doing too. They wouldn't put everyone in lockdown without a reason. -M

 

Izuku pressed his lips together.

 

I know. I just feel weird. Like something's coming and I can't shake it. -I

 

Your heat hasn't started yet, has it? Could be why you're feeling off. When are you due? -M

 

He nearly dropped his phone.

 

He absolutely did not want to talk about this with his mother, but avoiding the question wasn't an option.

 

He rubbed his neck.

 

It was supposed to start yesterday... -I

But all I got was a massive cramp. Stayed in bed all day. -I

Told everyone it was a stomachache. Not a lie, technically. -I

 

He winced at the memory - curled up, sweating through pain that radiated deep in his abdomen, rotating hot water bottles like it was some kind of ritual. Windows open. Sheets everywhere.

 

It had been miserable.

And it meant his heat was late.

 

Late meant unpredictable.

Unpredictable meant dangerous.

 

He looked toward the window. The first smear of morning light was stretching over the treetops, filtered through lingering fog.

 

Reality was never as pretty as the novels described.

 

His phone buzzed.

 

Was anyone worried? -M

 

Iida and Yaoyorozu were a bit. But I convinced them it was nothing. -I

 

He let out a small laugh as he typed.

 

His mom replied:

 

Good. But be careful when it DOES hit. Have you prepared everything? -M

 

Izuku's entire face flushed.

 

He crossed his legs under the stool and stared at the wall as if it might absorb him.

 

He appreciated that she cared - he did - but discussing heat preparation with his mother felt like walking into oncoming traffic.

 

...yeah, but it's personal, Mom. -I

 

Her reply was instant.

 

Oh hush. You came out of my personal space, remember? And I'm an Omega too. I know what it's like. -M

 

Izuku choked on a laugh and grimaced.

 

Why are you like this? -I

 

Love you too, son. Just remember: there are a LOT of Alphas in that dorm, and you've been suppressing your scent for months. The longer you hide it, the stronger it snaps back. -M

 

Izuku's stomach sank.

 

He checked the time: half past six. They had been talking since five. No sleep, no rest, and now a heat creeping up like a storm on the horizon.

 

Yeah, I know. Doesn't exactly help me right now, though. -I

 

Three minutes passed.

 

She had seen the message. She just hadn't replied yet.

 

Izuku used the silence to think - planning, preparing, imagining worst-case outcomes. None of them gave him answers. None of them made him feel safe.

 

Finally, her message appeared.

 

Don't you think it's time the others knew you're an Omega? -M

 

Izuku slammed out a response so fast he barely registered typing it.

 

NO. Absolutely not. Especially not with Kacchan around. -I

He bullied me for being quirkless. How do you think he'll treat me for being the "lower" sex, too? -I

 

The answer lingered in his brain like a hot coal.

 

Rough.

 

It slipped into his thoughts uninvited, dragging Katsuki's face with it - the look he'd given Izuku that first night of lockdown, something raw flashing behind his usual irritation.

 

Izuku's pulse jumped.

 

It was one look.

Just one.

It didn't mean anything.

 

Except his body didn't seem to agree.

 

It's been years, sweetheart. People change. -M

 

His reply was slower this time.

 

Mom... I live with him 24/7. He hasn't changed. -I

 

But in the back of his mind, he wondered if he actually believed that.

 

"What the hell are you doing up, nerd?"

 

Izuku jolted so hard his knee hit the underside of the table. He locked his phone out of instinct and looked up.

 

Katsuki padded into the dim kitchen wearing only grey sweats and a white tank, hair sticking up in every possible direction - clearly fresh from sleep or training, maybe both. His voice still had that low, morning-roughness.

 

Izuku shoved his phone into his pocket and tried to sit normally.

"Oh-um. My mom had a nightmare. I was talking her through it."

 

Katsuki snorted and went straight for the cupboards, rummaging with the aggression of someone wrestling a wild raccoon. Ingredients clattered onto the counter in a small pile.

 

"And you couldn't do that in your room?" he grumbled, head still half-buried in a cabinet.

 

"I... wanted water too," Izuku said, lifting his half-empty glass slightly, as if that would strengthen his case.

 

Katsuki rolled his eyes without looking at him. "Whatever."

 

The silence that followed was broken only by the soft clink of pans and the occasional muttered curse as Katsuki assembled whatever he was making. Izuku rubbed his legs together under the table, suddenly aware of how cold the kitchen was against bare skin. He should've worn leggings.

 

Outside, early sunlight started filtering through the fog. Izuku let his mind wander with it-until a loud crash made him jump again.

 

Katsuki pulled out a stack of pans like he was about to go to war with breakfast.

 

Izuku swallowed. "So, um... what are you doing up so early, Kacchan?"

 

Katsuki slammed a mixing jug onto the counter and stared at him like he'd asked the stupidest question in existence.

 

"Do I need permission to wake up early?"

 

Izuku winced at the volume, eyes squeezing shut.

 

Katsuki sighed with all the grace of a dying car engine and went back to the mixer. "Training, dumbass. What else do I ever do?"

 

"Oh."

It really was obvious when he said it aloud.

 

After a few minutes, Katsuki moved to the stove and dropped a pat of butter into the pan. The smell hit instantly - warm, rich, cinnamon-sweet - and Izuku found himself staring without meaning to.

 

And then staring harder.

 

Katsuki had put on a lot of muscle since their first year. Not bulky - just defined, sculpted, powerful. His shoulders filled out the tank top, arms inked with tension every time he flipped the pan.

 

The thought slipped into Izuku's brain before he could stop it:

 

When did he get that strong?

 

Heat crept into Izuku's cheeks. He snapped his gaze away and smacked his own forehead lightly.

 

No. Absolutely not.

 

Not today. Not with suppressed heat symptoms. Not with Katsuki of all people.

 

He was too busy battling his own thoughts to notice Katsuki place something in front of him.

 

A plate. A perfect pancake stacked with syrup and dusted with cinnamon.

 

Izuku blinked up at him.

 

"Here," Katsuki muttered, stabbing into his own pancake like it owed him money. His had chocolate shavings.

 

Izuku stared at the plate. "Um... what's this?"

 

Katsuki gave him the dirtiest look. "...Fucking pancakes, Deku. Are you blind?"

 

Izuku straightened, pulling the plate closer. "Thank you, but... why?"

 

Katsuki groaned like he was physically in pain. "Do you EVER shut up? God. Just eat it."

 

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it even messier, then moved back to pour coffee.

 

Izuku didn't touch the pancake. His heart was doing something stupid - too fast, too bright - and he didn't want Katsuki to notice.

 

Katsuki noticed.

 

"Eat the damn thing," he snapped. "I need you at full strength so when I beat your ass later, it'll mean something."

 

Izuku's brain did not need that phrasing today.

 

"Well... thank you, Kacchan," he said softly.

 

"Whatever."

 

His phone buzzed. Izuku quietly slid it out to check the new message from his mom.

 

You never know, dear. Maybe if you talked to him, you'd understand him better. You're adults now. -M

 

Izuku pressed his lips together.

 

I know. I'll try, but... no promises. -I

 

"Why aren't you eating, dumbass?" Katsuki barked, suddenly much closer.

 

Izuku startled. "I'm texting my mom."

 

"Hurry the hell up," Katsuki muttered.

 

Izuku finished the text quickly.

 

He'd barely hit send when Katsuki set something beside his plate - Izuku's All Might mug, now full of fresh black coffee.

 

Izuku blinked. "Oh-this is for me?"

 

Katsuki gave him the deadest stare. "No shit. There are two mugs. One's in front of you."

 

"... Thank you."

 

"STOP thanking me," Katsuki muttered, grabbing his own coffee. "It's weird. Just eat your damn breakfast."

 

Izuku picked up his fork but barely tasted anything. His thoughts were a mess of everything he shouldn't be thinking about. Specifically:

 

Why is he being nice?

Does he know?

Is it instinct?

Biology?

Hormones?

Is he-oh god, he's hot, why is he hot-

 

He didn't even notice Katsuki move until a shadow fell over him.

 

Katsuki was suddenly braced on either side of the table - leaning in, glaring down, close enough that Izuku felt the warmth of his breath when he spoke.

 

"I swear to god, Deku," he said quietly, voice dropping into something dangerous, "if I have to force-feed you, I will."

 

Izuku shivered. That tone was lethal. And his body reacted in a way that was very much NOT helpful.

 

"S-sorry, Kacchan."

 

Katsuki held his gaze - searching, intense - for a second too long.

 

Then he clicked his tongue and straightened up.

 

"Hmph."

 

Izuku exhaled shakily, only then realising how long he'd been holding his breath.

 

Just then, footsteps thudded down the stairs - quick, cheerful, and too awake for the hour.

 

"Morning, Deku! Morning, Bakugo!"

 

Izuku twisted in his seat and smiled as Uraraka bounded in, bright pink pyjamas and hair a little messy, but eyes sparkling regardless. Yaoyorozu followed behind her, already looking put-together despite carrying nothing more ambitious than a mug and some quiet composure.

 

Katsuki did not acknowledge either of them. He didn't look up from his plate, didn't grunt, didn't twitch. Just stabbed another piece of pancake and pretended the world didn't exist.

 

Izuku sat straighter, smoothing his expression. "Morning, Uraraka. Oh-Yaoyorozu, you're up early."

 

She gave him a warm smile as she poured herself coffee. "I ran into Uraraka in the laundry room. We thought we'd train together."

 

Uraraka nodded rapidly, settling into the seat beside Izuku and downing her apple juice in one go. She froze mid-swallow, sniffed dramatically, then lit up.

 

"Is that pancakes? They smell so good!"

 

Yaoyorozu hid a quiet laugh behind her mug. Katsuki remained entirely unmoved.

 

Izuku brightened. "Kacchan made them! They're amazing-here, try this!"

 

He cut a small piece from his plate and lifted the fork toward her. Uraraka took it enthusiastically, humming with exaggerated joy.

 

But just as she turned to praise Katsuki, she paused.

 

Because Katsuki... was staring.

 

Not outright, not obviously - but Izuku caught the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his fork paused mid-air. It was the kind of look Katsuki used to give him when they were kids - sharp, hot, inexplicable irritation.

 

Like someone had poked something territorial in him.

 

Uraraka blinked and looked away quickly.

 

Yaoyorozu cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "What about you, Midoriya? Did you sleep well?"

 

Izuku forced his attention away from Katsuki. "Uh-yeah. My mom had a nightmare, so we talked for a bit."

 

"She's lovely," Yaoyorozu said warmly. Katsuki snorted, but didn't comment.

 

Uraraka wrapped him in a sudden hug. "She's just worried about her baby boy!"

 

"H–hey-Uraraka-you're choking me-!"

 

More footsteps entered, and Uraraka released him quickly.

 

"Morning, everyone!" Ashido chirped, marching in with alien slippers and a shirt three sizes too big. Izuku and Uraraka responded in sync. Yaoyorozu gave a polite incline of her head mid-sip.

 

Ashido drifted to the lounge and turned on the TV to some old cartoon about a boy with a transforming watch. Kirishima arrived next, sniffing dramatically.

 

"Is that pancakes?"

 

"Bakugo made them!" Uraraka said brightly. "They're so good!"

 

Kirishima beamed. "Dude! Any left?"

 

Katsuki slammed his fork down so hard that Izuku jumped.

"Do I EVER get quiet in this goddamn dorm?!"

 

"This is Class 3-A," Todoroki said from behind him, voice flat. "Your expectations are unrealistic."

 

Yaoyorozu rose slightly to kiss his cheek as he joined her. Todoroki wrapped an arm around her waist in a casual, protective gesture.

 

Izuku waved. "Morning, Todoroki!"

 

Katsuki spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "Fuck off, half-and-half!"

 

Todoroki had the faintest smile on his face - which, for him, meant he was having a great morning.

 

Katsuki groaned like he was being physically tormented, turned back to the counter, and violently dumped ingredients into the mixing jug.

 

"You're the best, Bakubro!" Kirishima called.

 

"Shut up, Shitty Hair," Katsuki snapped.

 

The kitchen dissolved into laughter. For a moment, Izuku forgot the weight pressing at the edges of his senses - until it surged again.

 

A wave of heat flooded his chest, creeping up his throat. He coughed lightly and finished his pancake, though the warmth in his body made it hard to swallow normally. Katsuki was by the counter again, reading a recipe from a small folded booklet, leaning forward just slightly.

 

Izuku's eyes betrayed him.

 

Down the slope of Katsuki's neck.

Across the defined line of his back.

Lower, to the curve of his-

 

Stop. Stop. STOP.

 

Izuku jerked his gaze toward the table, but it was too late - the heat he'd been fighting all morning pressed harder, blooming under his skin.

And with it, a scent.

 

Not his-

Someone else's.

 

Burning wood. Spice.

Warm. Sharp. Familiar.

 

Katsuki.

 

Izuku's breath hitched.

 

No no no no-

He clamped his knees together, forcing his breathing quiet, but the smallest trace of his own scent slipped out as his suppressants buckled.

 

Katsuki froze.

 

Not dramatically - just a subtle pause in movement, the slightest tilt of his head. But it was enough. Izuku saw his nostrils flare a fraction, saw confusion flicker across Katsuki's eyes.

 

Saw that Katsuki noticed something.

 

"The fuc-"

 

Yaoyorozu coughed loudly enough to snap him out of it and nearly spilt her coffee as she stood.

 

"Midoriya! Do you, ah, want to help us with quirk combination practice?"

 

Izuku blinked at her, dazed. "Oh... yeah? Sure?"

 

Uraraka jumped in immediately. "Yeah! We need your notebooks anyway! Let's go grab them!"

 

Izuku barely processed anything as Uraraka tugged his sleeve, Yaoyorozu already rising from her chair.

 

Todoroki glanced up briefly at Katsuki's stiffened posture, then pretended to return to his phone.

 

In the lounge, Mineta started whining about deadlines but was violently silenced as Hagakure tackled him with a floating pillow.

 

"ANYWAY-let's go!" Uraraka said quickly. "Your room, right?"

 

Izuku nodded numbly.

 

Katsuki hadn't moved. He was still facing the counter, shoulders coiled tight, hands gripping the edge as if bracing against something he didn't understand.

 

Izuku looked at him once, carefully-

 

-and felt another pulse of heat.

 

Uraraka and Yaoyorozu practically dragged him toward the elevator.

 

And Katsuki didn't turn around.

 

But Izuku could feel his eyes on him the whole way out.

 

---

 

"Midoriya," Yaoyorozu said suddenly, voice clipped but gentle, "you're an Omega, aren't you?"

 

Izuku's head snapped up so fast his curls bounced.

 

His whole face went red.

 

"What? N–no! Why would you even-?"

 

"Oh, come on," she cut in, flicking her hair back with that motherly disappointment she'd perfected. "We weren't born yesterday. Betas still have noses. We smelled the shift the second it hit."

 

Uraraka nodded, far too casually. "Yeah, Deku... it was pretty strong."

 

Izuku made a small, strangled sound that didn't belong to any human species. Heat crawled up his neck as he twisted his fingers together.

 

"Was it really that noticeable?" he muttered, staring at the floor.

 

"Not bad," Uraraka said quickly. "Just... strong. Kinda like chocolate."

 

"Orange chocolate," Yaoyorozu corrected softly.

 

Izuku groaned into his hands. "Can we please stop describing me like a scented candle? It's mortifying."

 

The elevator hummed around them as it rose, providing the only mercy in the conversation.

 

After a moment, Izuku cleared his throat. "How-how did you figure it out anyway?"

 

Yaoyorozu gave him a look. "The way you reacted during the news report. And the... scent earlier. It wasn't a big leap."

 

Izuku swallowed hard. "I didn't say anything because it never came up. I didn't think it was important."

 

Yaoyorozu's eyes widened. "Being an Omega isn't important?"

 

Uraraka leaned in, catching his gaze. "Deku, you wouldn't get kicked out. And honestly? It's kind of amazing. I've never heard of a male Omega hero before." Her smile was earnest, trying to lift the weight off him.

 

Izuku pressed his lips together. "It's not the school I'm worried about. It's... everyone else."

 

His mind flashed, unbidden, to a pair of sharp crimson eyes.

 

Yaoyorozu softened. "Well, it's just us right now. And we won't tell a soul unless you want us to. You trust us, right?"

 

Izuku nodded. "Yeah. Thank you."

 

The elevator dinged at the boys' dorm floor. Yaoyorozu stepped out first.

 

"Midoriya, are you prepared at all? You must be close to your heat."

 

Izuku blushed again. "I just need to put the scent suppressor on my door. Suppressants only do so much, and I don't trust the default insulation."

 

"Oh, I can install that for you," Uraraka said brightly. "It's easy."

 

They walked down the hallway together. Morning light cut strong slices across the carpet, washing everything in muted gold.

 

And then - they passed it.

 

Katsuki's door.

 

The scent hit Izuku like a punch to the chest.

 

Burning wood. Spice. Heat.

Too familiar. Too strong. Too perfect.

 

His breath faltered.

His knees wobbled.

 

It was overwhelming.

 

"H–hh-" Izuku gasped, clutching at his stomach as a molten ache twisted deep inside him.

 

"Midoriya?" Yaoyorozu stopped immediately. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

 

Izuku doubled over slightly, trying to suppress a sound that wasn't remotely PG. "I... I don't- it's- it's warm- God."

 

Uraraka hovered close, hands ready but unsure where to help. "Deku? Are you sick?"

 

Heat rolled through him again, this time sharper. His thighs pressed together instinctively; slick was already beginning to gather, betraying him completely.

 

Yaoyorozu glanced at the door nearby and exhaled sharply. "Of course. Bakugo."

 

"What?" Uraraka blinked.

 

"His scent," Yaoyorozu murmured. "Strong Alpha scent. And Midoriya's been reacting to him for years."

 

Izuku shook his head violently. "Kacchan has n- nothing to do with-"

Another wave tore through him, cutting off the end of the sentence with a soft, helpless cry. His face burned.

 

Yaoyorozu didn't soften this time. "Midoriya, you're in denial. His scent triggered your heat. It happens."

 

He collapsed to his knees, palms braced against the floor, trembling as his body gave up pretending it wasn't happening. Cool air slipped under his shorts and brushed places it absolutely shouldn't. His hips jolted at the sensation.

 

A quiet, broken moan escaped him.

 

Uraraka went scarlet. "O–okay, wow, that's- Midoriya, we need to move you. Right now. Before anyone else wakes up."

 

Izuku tried to nod, but another pulse stole the strength from his limbs.

 

"We're going," Yaoyorozu said firmly.

 

Together, they hooked their arms under his and half-lifted, half-dragged him down the hall. Izuku didn't even care how undignified he looked - he was too far gone in heat-sick fog, body burning, scent spilling out in faint, trembling waves.

 

They made it to his door as another shudder wracked him.

 

Uraraka winced sympathetically. "Hang in there, Deku. We've got you."

 

Yaoyorozu pushed the door open. "Inside. Now."

 

And the moment they crossed the threshold, Izuku's legs nearly gave out again.

 

---

 

Izuku barely felt the door close behind Uraraka and Yaoyorozu before his knees buckled.

 

The sheets were still half-folded on the bed, but he didn't make it that far - he slumped onto the floor instead, tangled in blankets and breathing like the air had turned to steam. The scent suppressor Uraraka had installed hummed low on the doorframe, doing its best, but his heat was already spiralling.

 

The moment he was alone, the first real wave hit.

 

It wasn't gentle.

It wasn't subtle.

 

A molten pull low in his abdomen, tightening with every heartbeat. Heat crawled under his skin like wildfire searching for fuel, and every place it touched felt unbearably sensitive.

 

Izuku curled onto his side, one arm thrown over his face as a broken sound escaped him.

 

He'd been through heats before - predictable, manageable, clinical.

This wasn't that.

 

This felt as if his body had been waiting for years for someone to breathe on the spark.

 

The worst part was the scent that lingered in his mind, even with the suppressor running.

 

Burning spice.

Warm smoke.

Katsuki.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to breathe through it, but each inhale only made it worse. His body kept reaching for something he knew wasn't here—something it shouldn't want.

 

"G–god..." he whispered helplessly, fingers flexing against the sheets.

 

There was no hiding the way he was trembling now. No stopping it, either - his body was reacting on instinct, chasing relief like it was oxygen.

 

He tried grounding himself - cold air from the open window, the faint hum of the A/C, the rough fibres of the blanket under his cheek - but the wave kept cresting higher, dragging him with it.

 

His thoughts blurred together in hot, fractured loops.

 

Too warm. Too strong. Too much.

Breathe. Breathe.

Not here. Not now.

Kacchan-

 

Izuku's stomach clenched hard.

 

That name should not have slipped in.

 

But the second it did, the pressure coiled tighter, as if the sound alone fed whatever part of him had snapped awake in the hallway. He pressed his forehead against the floor, panting through the ache.

 

"Kaccha-ah-"

 

He cut himself off with a gasp.

He didn't want this.

He didn't want him.

 

Except... his heat didn't care.

 

Every instinct-driven corner of his biology kept dragging up images he'd spent years burying - Katsuki's hands braced against the counter, the line of his back, his scent hanging thick in the kitchen air. Heat crawled up Izuku's neck as the memory alone nearly sent him spiralling again.

 

He gripped the sheets with shaking fingers, trying to stop the crushing need from overtaking him.

 

But it was already too late.

 

The wave overtook him entirely - sharp, overwhelming, all-consuming. It tore a strained moan from his throat as his muscles tensed, breath stumbling, body desperate for something that wasn't there.

 

It felt like falling.

 

Like something inside him had cracked open, begging to be filled, soothed, claimed.

Not by anyone.

Not by any Alpha.

 

One.

 

One in particular.

 

"Kacchan..." he whispered into the sheets, horrified by how natural it sounded.

 

The climax of the wave left him shaking, chest heaving, pulse racing. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin as he rode out the aftershocks, curling tighter around himself as if that might ease the ache.

 

But the relief was shallow. Temporary. Already fading.

 

His body wasn't done - this was only the beginning.

 

The heavy, instinctive pull toward a knot; the biological longing for a mate. It settled like a weight in his stomach.

 

He stared at the ceiling, dazed and horrified in equal measure.

 

Of all the people his heat could have fixated on...

Of all the Alphas in the world...

 

Why him?

 

Why now?

 

He dragged a trambling hand over his face.

 

"This," he whispered to no one, voice cracking, "is not what I signed up for when I enrolled at U.A."

 

Chapter 3: Fucking Sap

Night had swallowed the campus whole, but Izuku barely registered anything beyond the oppressive, enclosing walls of his room and the wildfire that licked beneath his skin, restless and insatiable.

 

Heat blurred time into something shapeless. He had no idea how many times he'd found release - only that none of them lasted. His body burned through each one like oxygen, leaving him shaking, slick, and feverishly unsatisfied.

 

He had graduated from shaky fingers to the heat aid tucked away in his drawer in a premium unopened box - something he'd bought responsibly and quietly. He never expected to need it. Now, it felt like the only thing keeping him from tearing his dorm room apart.

 

Each slow, desperate movement of his hips sent warmth unfurling through his belly. His breath stuttered out in broken, high sounds he couldn't swallow. His thighs trembled, struggling to keep moving through the overwhelming sensitivity.

 

"P–please-" Izuku gasped, head tipping back, curls sticking damply to his forehead.

 

The pressure built again-sharp, hot, impossible to think around. Every nerve in his body felt exposed, begging for something more than what he had. He wanted something deeper, firmer, real. His back arched helplessly as the wave crested, his mind flickering with images he didn't have the strength to shut down.

 

Strong hands on his waist.

 

A low voice swearing under its breath.

 

Heat, scent, dominance - Katsuki.

 

It didn't matter how many times he told himself to stop thinking about him. The moment he let his mind go slack, Katsuki's image filled every corner of it - the hard line of his shoulders, the heat of his glare, the scent that had cracked Izuku open with humiliating ease.

 

Another moan tore out of him, raw and needy.

 

His release hit him suddenly, like the snap of a too-tight wire. His thighs shook, stomach tightening as pleasure spilt through him in trembling waves. He pressed a hand over his mouth, but the sound still came through - a soft, broken whine he couldn't hold back.

 

And still, even with the sudden wash of relief, the ache didn't fade. Not fully.

 

He lay there on the floor, panting, sweat cooling on his skin, every muscle humming with leftover tension. The emptiness inside him pulsed again - quieter, but insistent.

 

This heat wanted more than what he could give himself.

 

Izuku dragged a shaky hand over his flushed face, staring up at the ceiling with dazed, half-lidded eyes.

 

"For fuck's sake..." he whispered, mortified by how easily Katsuki's name had threaded itself through every climax.

 

He didn't want this.

 

He didn't ask for this.

 

He definitely didn't want Katsuki Bakugo tangled in any part of his heat - even in these fever-drenched, humiliating fantasies.

 

But his body clearly disagreed.

 

He was still catching his breath when his phone buzzed sharply beside him, vibrating against the wood. Izuku jerked upright with a soft yelp, reaching for it with trembling fingers.

 

One message.

 

From the worst possible sender.

 

Close your fucking window, nerd. It reeks.

 

Izuku stared. Blinked.

 

Read it again.

 

Then his blood ran cold.

 

"Kacchan-?" he squeaked, mortification slamming into him like a physical force. His window was still wide open. And Katsuki's room was next door.

 

Oh no.

 

Oh no-

 

He scrambled to his feet on unsteady legs, nearly stumbling as the soreness in his thighs caught up with him. He slammed the window shut and stood there, breath shallow, face burning so hot it felt feverish.

 

If Katsuki could smell him...

 

Could he hear him?

 

Izuku covered his mouth with both hands, sinking down to the floor again as embarrassment washed over him in dizzying waves. The idea that Katsuki - Katsuki - might've heard even a fraction of what had happened in here made him want to evaporate into dust.

 

Worse still...

 

The thought didn't just humiliate him.

 

It did something else.

 

Something low and molten fluttered in his gut - an ache so shamefully sweet it stole his breath.

 

Izuku pressed his face into his knees.

 

He was a mess. A needy, heat-drunk disaster.

 

And this was only day one.

 

---

 

"Bakubro! Night sparring - you in?"

 

Kirishima's voice cut through the kitchen like a blade. Katsuki didn't even look up. He hunched over the counter, jaw locked, slamming cutlery around for no reason other than existing on Earth pissed him off right now.

 

He'd been like this for hours.

 

Kaminari hovered behind Kirishima in full training gear, sipping from a water bottle like he had no fear of death.

 

Kirishima grinned. "We'll take that as a yes?"

 

Katsuki shot him a look that could curdle milk.

 

"Fuck off, Shitty-Hair."

 

Kirishima gave a cheerful salute, unbothered, and Kaminari dragged him away, chirping, "Have fun being a downer!"

 

"Eat shit, Dunce-Face," Katsuki muttered.

 

The front door clicked shut, and silence finally settled across the dorm.

 

Katsuki exhaled, long and sharp.

 

Ever since that smell earlier, something deep within him had been thrown off-kilter. Not just irritated. Not merely angry. His jaw clenched involuntarily, teeth grinding with a tension that reverberated down to his core. Raw and ancient, a primal alarm clawed its way up from the depths, making every muscle snap to attention like a tightly coiled spring. It felt as if a live wire had sparked inside him, igniting an electric current that refused to settle.

 

It had hit him like a punch.

 

Rich, warm, sweet. Chocolate with a bite of citrus, like burnt sugar and orange peel. A scent that wasn't soft at all, but bold, thick, demanding, dragging his Alpha instincts to the surface whether he liked it or not.

 

The moment it hit him, panic clenched his chest and burned his throat dry. Heat surged beneath his skin, pulsing like a second heartbeat. His scent flared before he could stop it-woodsmoke and spice, bleeding from him like a warning shot.

 

He'd barely managed to plant both hands on the counter and breathe without growling.

 

And then Ponytail had whisked Deku away.

 

And the scent vanished.

 

And Katsuki was left standing there like an idiot, his instincts screaming, WHAT. WAS. THAT.

 

He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning loud enough to rattle the cabinet doors.

 

He hated this.

 

Hated not having answers.

 

Hated that his body was reacting like some mutt sniffing after a bone.

 

And he hated how obvious it would be if anyone else saw it.

 

"Fuck this," he muttered, shoving away from the table.

 

He grabbed a bottle from the fridge and stalked outside. The night air hit his overheated skin like a bucket of ice water - refreshing, but not enough to shock his brain back into working order.

 

Jogging. Jogging was fine. Jogging was neutral. Jogging did not involve thinking about how good something had smelled.

 

He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and started across the field at a pace fast enough to shake the noise out of his head.

 

He'd gotten maybe a lap in before another voice slid into his orbit.

 

"I didn't know you took nightly runs."

 

Katsuki nearly choked.

 

Of course.

 

Of course Todoroki would be here too.

 

He didn't even bother hiding his disgust.

 

"You trying to say I'm weak or something?" Katsuki snapped, picking up speed.

 

Todoroki matched his pace easily, hoodie sleeves pushed up, face annoyingly calm.

 

"I didn't say anything like that," he replied.

 

"It was implied."

 

"It really wasn't."

 

Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard he nearly strained something.

 

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Todoroki said, "You've been... tense."

 

Katsuki almost tripped.

 

"Tense?" he barked. "I'll show you tense-"

 

"Oh," Todoroki hummed, "I see. So paranoid, not tense."

 

Katsuki whirled so fast he almost slipped, jogging backwards to glare directly into two very unamused heterochromatic eyes.

 

"You wanna say that again, you fucking candy-cane?"

 

Todoroki blinked once.

Then: "Candy canes are sweet. Was that a compliment?"

 

Katsuki made a noise so violent it might have killed a small animal.

 

"Unbelievable," he muttered, whipping around and sprinting ahead — small explosions popping off his palms like angry fireflies.

 

He was halfway around the field again when Todoroki's voice returned, maddeningly calm:

 

"So. That scent from earlier."

 

Katsuki stiffened instantly.

 

He didn't respond.

 

Didn't have to.

 

Todoroki continued:

 

"You reacted."

 

"I react to everything," Katsuki snapped.

 

"Not like that."

 

Katsuki's jaw clenched.

 

"No one else seemed affected. Except you."

 

"Are you fucking analysing me right now?"

 

Todoroki didn't even blink. "I'm stating a fact."

 

Katsuki barked out a laugh with no humour in it. "You think I don't know what an Omega smells like? That wasn't-"

 

"It was Midoriya."

 

Katsuki stopped jogging for half a second - just long enough to make the stutter obvious before he forced himself forward again.

 

"And?" Katsuki said, voice low. Dangerous.

 

Todoroki shrugged. "And that means he's an Omega."

 

"He's not a fucking Omega." Katsuki said it instantly. Too instantly.

 

Todoroki raised a brow. "You seem very sure."

 

"No Omegas get into U.A.," Katsuki shot back. "Everyone knows that."

 

"That doesn't make it impossible."

 

"It makes it not Deku," Katsuki barked, heat rising under his skin again. "Trust me."

 

Todoroki slowed to a walk. Katsuki matched him despite himself.

 

"...Why does it bother you so much?" Todoroki asked quietly.

 

"It doesn't," Katsuki snapped.

 

"It clearly does."

 

"It fucking doesn't."

 

"Bakugo," Todoroki said calmly, "you smelled it too."

 

"I don't know what you think I smelled-"

 

"You smelled him," Todoroki cut in. "Your reaction was... obvious."

 

Katsuki's ears went hot, and he hated it instantly.

 

"That wasn't- he's not-" he growled, fists sparking. "Shut up about it already."

 

Todoroki blinked, unbothered. "And your reaction now suggests it definitely bothers you."

 

"It doesn't."

 

"It does."

 

"Oh my god," Katsuki snarled, stopping to step in front of him, blocking his path, sparks cracking along the ground. "Say one more thing about Deku and I'll-"

 

Todoroki lifted a brow. "And here it is."

 

"Here 'what' is?" Katsuki barked.

 

"The territorial behaviour," Todoroki answered simply.

 

Katsuki froze in place, heart thudding as Todoroki's words landed. His body stiffened in a rare moment of uncertainty.

 

Todoroki continued, annoyingly calm:

 

"You didn't say the words, but you're acting like you want me away from him."

 

Katsuki's face went hot. "Bullshit."

 

"You cornered me," Todoroki pointed out. "Over a name."

 

Katsuki sputtered, "I- that- YOU- I wasn't-"

 

Todoroki sighed. "Relax. I'm not interested in Midoriya. I'm very happy with Momo."

 

Katsuki stiffened again, but this time something in his chest loosened - just a little.

 

Todoroki added, "But pretending you aren't reacting to him won't change the reality."

 

Katsuki glared so hard his eyes watered. "I'm not reacting to him."

 

"Then why are you shaking?" Todoroki asked.

 

Katsuki looked down.

 

Goddamnit.

 

He was shaking.

 

Todoroki's voice softened. "Bakugo... Midoriya doesn't belong to you."

 

Something went hot-sharp down Katsuki's spine.

 

"I never said he did!"

 

Todoroki went quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was annoyingly gentle:

 

"You've bullied him for years. Wanting him now - wanting to claim him now - won't erase the damage."

 

Katsuki swallowed, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

 

"Midoriya deserves better than someone who doesn't know what he feels." Todoroki continued.

 

Katsuki exhaled sharply, chest tight.

 

"...You don't know anything about us."

 

"I know enough," Todoroki said. "And you're not handling this well."

 

Katsuki scoffed, cheeks blazing.

 

"Shut your fucking mouth."

 

"I'm just stating facts." Todoroki said again.

 

"I don't care about your facts."

 

Todoroki tilted his head.

 

"Then why does the idea of someone else going near him bother you?"

 

Katsuki's entire body erupted in sparks.

 

"I'm DONE with this conversation," he growled, and without waiting for a response, bolted across the field, running so fast the grass rippled in his wake.

 

He didn't know where he was going.

 

He just knew he couldn't think straight.

 

Not about the scent.

 

Not about what it meant.

 

And definitely not about Deku

 

---

 

Katsuki's trek back to Heights Alliance was quiet, which irritated him even more. He didn't want silence; silence meant thinking, and thinking meant acknowledging whatever the hell Todoroki had just poked a stick into.

 

So he did what he always did - shoved everything down until it sat like a live grenade in his gut.

 

He exhaled sharply outside the dorm entrance, steam curling in the night air, then shoved open the door. Warm light flooded his vision, making him squint. The usual greens of the lounge didn't even register. He tossed his unopened water bottle onto the kitchen table hard enough to make it bounce, then jabbed the elevator button with a little too much force.

 

The gears groaned loudly, mocking him. Katsuki leaned his weight to one hip, arms crossed, jaw sharp enough to crack a tile. The elevator dragged itself down, as if it, too, wanted to piss him off.

 

When the doors finally clanged open, he stomped inside and slapped the button for the third floor. The doors clattered shut. The upward lurch tugged his stomach, but it didn't give him enough time to think - not that he wanted to. He just glared at the thin seam between the metal doors and tried not to punch anything.

 

The second the elevator opened, he slipped out before the doors had fully parted, storming down the hallway-

 

And then he stopped.

 

Because his body stopped.

 

On instinct.

 

Immediately in front of Deku's door.

 

Katsuki stared at the stupid, bright-blue paint like it had personally wronged him. He didn't want to be here - his feet had taken him anyway. He took a slow step closer, breath tight, and before he could talk himself out of it, he drew in a short, testing sniff.

 

Nothing.

 

No chocolate.

 

No citrus.

 

No Omega.

 

Just... nothing.

 

His stomach dropped - annoyed? Relieved? Disappointed? He didn't know. Didn't want to know. He clicked his tongue and tore himself away from the door with a scowl.

 

"See? Beta," he muttered. "Always was."

 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand and walked to his own room, pushing inside and letting the door slam behind him.

 

He took a deep breath.

 

And immediately staggered.

 

The scent hit him like a goddamn avalanche.

 

Sweet. Warm. Thick.

 

Chocolate and citrus, heady and molten, coating the air like velvet heat.

 

His knees nearly buckled.

 

"What the-"

 

His joggers tightened instantly, painfully. He looked down, horrified, at the outline straining against the fabric.

 

"What the FUCK?"

 

He stumbled toward his window - wide open, curtains fluttering in the nighttime draft - and grabbed the frame to steady himself as he slammed the sheers back inside. He clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, dragging in shallow breaths through his teeth. His head swam.

 

He leaned out, searching - empty pathways, empty air - until his gaze landed on the open window directly beside his.

 

Deku's.

 

Of course it was fucking Deku's.

 

Katsuki's pulse skidded sideways. His scent barricade collapsed. Instinct howled.

 

And then-

 

A sound.

 

It drifted through the wall as faint as a whisper, but Katsuki heard it clearly with his senses blown wide open.

 

A moan.

 

Not just any moan - needy, high, wrecked.

 

His cock twitched, hard enough to make him grunt.

 

"No. Nope. No-"

 

He was reaching into his joggers before he had even decided to. His hand wrapped around himself, squeezing tight, and his vision blurred at the edges.

 

He shouldn't be doing this.

 

Shouldn't be reacting.

 

Shouldn't be-

 

Another moan filtered through the wall.

 

Katsuki choked back a growl.

 

Fuck. FUCK.

 

His hand moved on its own, steady strokes that dragged slick pre-come along the underside of his shaft. He braced his free hand against the windowsill, muscles trembling, head falling forward as he tried to breathe quietly.

 

The noises from next door weren't constant - just soft, breaking little sounds - but they were devastating. Each one shot straight through his spine.

 

Then, a breathy, desperate whimper:

 

"P... please..."

 

Katsuki's hips jerked helplessly.

 

A vivid image slammed into him: Deku bent over his desk, flushed and shaking, presenting without meaning to, that little "please" muffled against his arm while Katsuki-

 

He let out a broken growl, heat ripping through him.

 

"Oh, fuck..."

 

His knot swelled, hard and angry at the base of his cock. He pumped faster, grip tight and ruthless, chasing a release he knew he'd have no control over. His breaths came ragged, feral.

 

Deku's moans climbed higher.

 

Katsuki's world narrowed to sound and scent and the punishing rhythm of his fist.

 

He imagined sinking into the slick heat he could smell through the open windows, imagined Deku gripping the sheets, imagined his hips pistoning in, imagined keeping him full, imagined every instinct in his body roaring MINE-

 

His orgasm hit like a detonation.

 

He bit his lip to keep from shouting, thick spurts of cum striping his hand and sinking into his ruined joggers. His back arched, his body shaking as white-hot heat pulsed through him in waves.

 

At the same moment, through the wall, he heard Deku cry out - a sharp, shattered moan - and Katsuki's own climax twisted painfully sweet.

 

He sagged forward, chest heaving, hand limp around his softening cock. Shame and satisfaction warred inside him in a nauseating mix.

 

He had just gotten off to Deku.

 

Deku, whom he'd sworn he hated.

 

Deku, whom he couldn't stop thinking about.

 

Deku, who-

 

Was an Omega.

 

"Fuck," he whispered.

 

He backed away from the window, wiping his hand off with the nearest towel, then ripped off his ruined joggers and tossed them into the laundry pile. He tugged on clean boxers, grabbed his phone, and stared at the screen while his heart hammered.

 

He wasn't gonna text him.

 

He shouldn't text him.

 

He had no reason to text him.

 

But his fingers were already typing.

 

Close your fucking window, nerd. It reeks.

 

He hit send.

 

Then threw himself onto his bed, arm draped over his face.

 

He was doomed.

 

Pheromone-drunk.

 

And worst of all-

 

When he heard Deku's tiny startled meep and the window next door slam shut, Katsuki grinned like an idiot.

 

Then immediately hated himself for it.

 

He was such a fucking sap.

 

Chapter 4: Full Force

The first thing Izuku registered upon waking was pain.

 

A deep, bone-warm ache pulsing through his hips and thighs. A pounding headache that throbbed behind his eyes. And, God, stickiness. Everywhere. His skin felt tacky, like someone had glued summer humidity directly to his body.

 

He cracked an eye open and groaned, slowly dragging himself upright from the tangled mess of blankets that had become his makeshift heat nest. Every muscle protested. Every joint felt overused. He muffled a yawn behind the back of his hand, blinking blearily at the sunlight cutting across the floor in bright blocks of blue and orange.

 

Four days.

 

Four days since his heat hit.

 

And three days since the… window incident.

 

Izuku flopped back down for a moment, palms over his face as the memory hit him like a freight train. Embarrassment crashed over him - hot, suffocating, impossible to push back down.

 

Katsuki hearing him.

 

Katsuki smelling him.

 

Katsuki texting him about it.

 

He wanted to shrivel up into the floorboards. How does someone come back from that? Did someone ever come back from that?

 

His heart thudded unpleasantly. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the type to keep secrets. What if he told everyone? What if he used this against him? Izuku could already picture it: Katsuki sneering smugly while forcing him to do his chores, or sparring matches, or - God forbid - homework.

 

But the alternative was almost worse: Katsuki not saying anything at all. Katsuki pretending nothing had happened. Katsuki acting normal while knowing everything.

 

Izuku stretched, trying to shake the thoughts loose. His back cracked, his thighs trembled, and the pain was almost satisfying. He needed to move. His body felt like it had been cooped up for far too long in one place, screaming for a new environment.

 

A glance at the All Might clock on his desk told him it was already past two in the afternoon.

 

“Seriously…?” Izuku whispered to himself.

 

No wonder the sun was so bright. He practically slept half the day away.

 

He inhaled-and immediately grimaced.

 

Oh.

 

Oh, wow.

 

He reeked.

 

Omega. Slick. Sex. The unmistakable aftermath of a heat that had wrung him out like a towel.

 

He needed a shower. A long, scalding, purifying shower.

 

He shuffled to his supply box, pulling it from under his bed. The familiar white towel inside was blissfully scentless. He buried his nose in it and sighed in relief. Scentless.

 

Everyone should still be outside on the training fields. House arrest or not, the entire class had latched onto outdoor training as a coping mechanism, schedules be damned. Iida had tried to enforce normal lunchtimes, but even he had given up.

 

It meant Izuku had the halls to himself. Thank God.

 

He slipped into fresh clothes and padded out into the quiet corridor, towel over one shoulder. The emptiness of the dorms was eerie-too still, too hollow-but it also comforted him.

 

No one else would smell him.

 

No one else would know.

 

The showers were communal but only split by primary gender. Normal dorms were sometimes separated by Alpha, Beta, or Omega, but this was U.A. No one had ever bothered building Omega-specific infrastructure. Why would they, when Omegas "didn't become heroes"? 

 

He snorted under his breath.

 

“Because of exceptions,” he muttered, shoulder-checking the heavy door marked with a blue stick figure. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a nod to the systemic barriers that he and others like him faced. Despite striving to prove themselves, they were often dismissed, relegated to the sidelines by those who held the keys to opportunity. It sparked a flicker of resentment beneath his skin, one that never fully extinguished.

 

Steam clung to the tiled room, the faint scent of cleaning products lingering in the air. Izuku set his clothes on the dry counter Iida obsessively maintained, whispering a small thank-you to the class rep under his breath.

 

The stall he chose steamed up instantly as he adjusted the knobs. When the first burst of hot water hit his shoulder blades, Izuku almost collapsed.

 

Oh, that felt good.

 

The past few days had chewed him up - physically, mentally, hormonally - and spit him out, and the heat easing out of his muscles was almost euphoric. He braced a hand on the wall as the water poured over him in steady, cleansing sheets.

 

For a moment, he let himself enjoy it.

 

No pheromones. No thoughts. No Katsuki.

 

He scrubbed soap along his arms and chest, across the faint freckles dotting his collarbones. He washed away everything: the sweat, the scent, the dried slick, the ache of being too empty and too full all at once.

 

When he reached for the shampoo, the floral scent curled into his nose, overpowering everything else… except the faintest, phantom curl of chocolate-orange sweetness.

 

His own scent.

 

He sighed through his nose.

 

Being an Omega sucked.

 

He rinsed out the shampoo, shut off the water, and listened as the pounding spray faded to the occasional drip. The stall was thick with steam. Damp heat settled on his skin. He pulled the towel down; it was heavier than before, the edges a little wet. He dried off, dressed, and shoved his old clothes into the washing machine, drowning them in a frankly irresponsible amount of laundry powder.

 

No evidence and no scent trails to betray him.

 

But as he stepped back into the hall, stomach growling like he hadn’t eaten in a century, all of his careful planning fell apart.

 

He needed food.

 

Even if it meant the kitchen.

 

Even if there were lingering scents.

 

Even if-

 

He squared his shoulders and marched toward the kitchen anyway.

 

The fridge light flickered on as he opened it, cool air rolling over his skin. His stomach growled again, louder this time.

 

Nothing looked appealing. Too sweet. Too heavy. Too much.

 

He shut the fridge with a sigh and opened the cupboards instead. Cereal, baking ingredients…

 

And then something that stopped him short.

 

A plate wrapped in cling film labelled in blue marker: Deku.

 

His heart did a weird little flip.

 

Izuku pulled the plate down and peeled back a corner of the wrap. Lemon crinkle cookies, dusted with powdered sugar, stacked almost obscenely high.

 

He blinked at them for a second, then carried the plate to the table and sat.

 

They were for him, obviously, his name was literally on them, but who had done it was a whole other question. A lot of people called him “Deku” now. The nickname had gone from Katsuki’s insult to general shorthand somewhere around the Sports Festival.

 

Uraraka, maybe? She liked sweets, and it felt like something she’d do. But he’d never actually seen her bake.

 

He shook the thought away and took a cautious bite.

 

The cookie was soft, the lemon light and bright without being harsh, sugar melting on his tongue. Warmth bloomed in his chest. It hit that perfect line between bland and overwhelming; comforting, not nauseating.

 

Whoever made these knew exactly what they were doing.

 

He was halfway through his second when the front door creaked open. Every muscle in his body tensed, eyes locked on the hallway, then relaxed when bright red hair and sharp teeth came into view.

 

“Oh, hi, Kirishima!” Izuku said, lifting his hand in a small wave, cookie crumbs clinging to his fingers.

 

Kirishima grinned, eyes warm. He was in a maroon tank top, the entire front glued to his skin with sweat, hair darker and slicked back. He looked like he’d just finished a workout and could easily go for another three.

 

“Sup, ‘Doriya. How ya feeling?” he asked, heading straight for the sink. He filled a glass with water and dropped into the chair across from Izuku.

 

“Much better, thanks,” Izuku said with a relieved laugh. “Nothing a warm shower couldn’t fix.” He popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth and brushed sugar from his hands.

 

He didn’t notice the movement behind him until a pink arm swooped past his shoulder and stole a cookie right off the plate.

 

“Yoink,” Ashido chirped, shoving the whole thing into her mouth.

 

Izuku practically jumped out of his skin. “Ashido! When did you - you were like a- like a shadow!”

 

She tapped the side of her nose, cheeks bulging with cookie. “Stealth, my dude,” she said around it.

 

All three of them laughed. Then Kirishima’s face shifted, the smile softening into something more serious.

 

“So, real talk, Midoriya,” he said, leaning in slightly.

 

Izuku straightened, his swallow catching in his throat.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know… with your… issue?” Kirishima gestured vaguely in Izuku’s direction.

 

“How did you-”

 

“I told him,” Ashido cut in. She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Pretty much all the girls know, and I trust Kiri, so it was a win-win.” She lifted her hands in surrender. “He won’t tell, I promise.”

 

Izuku’s instinctive panic loosened at Ashido's reassurance. Relief flooded in, but embarrassment still prickled as he raised both hands, shaking his head.

 

“No, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “I trust you. Both of you.”

 

Kirishima’s shoulders dropped with visible relief, Ashido’s too. Even with their Alpha scents, neither of them felt like a threat - there was something tempered in their presence, like their dominance was blunted by something else. Someone else.

 

And besides, Kirishima was taken, and Ashido… well, Izuku was pretty sure she didn’t play for his team anyway.

 

“Yeah, she told me a few days ago,” Kirishima admitted, scratching his cheek. “It was actually kinda funny. I asked why you hadn’t been around for a while when I was drinking with the girls-”

 

Izuku choked on his cookie.

 

“Since when do you drink with the girls?” he spluttered. “And since when do the girls drink?!”

 

Kirishima shrugged, completely unbothered. “Since, like, when Momo started creating alcohol after Mina practically begged her-”

 

“I did not beg!” Ashido yelped, outraged. She grabbed his arm and yanked; Kirishima caught a lock of her hair and gave it a playful tug back.

 

“Did too.”

 

“Did not!”

 

Izuku pressed his knuckles to his mouth to hide a laugh.

 

Kirishima turned back to Izuku. “I caught Mina and Hagakure smuggling some into Uraraka’s room,” he went on proudly. “I wasn’t gonna snitch, but Mina said if I kept quiet, I could drink with them. So…” he shrugged again, looping an arm around Ashido and pulling her into a side hug, “now I’ve got new drinking buddies and dirt on literally everyone in this school. Girls are great, man.”

 

“You betcha,” Ashido grinned, leaning into his side.

 

“I didn’t think Uraraka would be one to drink,” Izuku murmured.

 

Ashido waved a hand. “Oh, she doesn’t. She just supervises and makes sure no one dies of alcohol poisoning.”

 

That sounded very Uraraka.

 

Izuku glanced down at the plate, picked up another cookie, and then paused, a new thought clicking into place.

 

“By the way, Kirishima, do you know who left these in the cupboard?”

 

Izuku grabbed the cling film from next to the plate and flipped it so Kirishima could see the bold blue “Deku” scrawled across the top. “They had my name on them.”

 

Kirishima squinted at it, already reaching for another cookie. Izuku didn’t even bother stopping him this time.

 

“Oh, yeah, that was-”

 

“Eijirou! I’m so gonna kick your ass later!”

 

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the doors.

 

Kaminari stomped into view, hoodie unzipped, oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. A dark bruise peeked out along the edge of his collarbone. He gave Izuku a quick nod of greeting on autopilot.

 

“Hey, Midoriya.”

 

Then he rounded on Kirishima. “You left marks on me, you dumbass!”

 

Jiro drifted in behind him like she’d been waiting for her cue, twirling an earjack around her finger, smirk already loaded.

 

“Busted~,” she sang.

 

Kaminari planted both hands on the table, leaning over Kirishima with a pout. Kirishima turned slowly in his chair, meeting him dead-on.

 

“Yeah, well,” he said calmly, “if you weren’t such a needy bitch, it might not have happened.”

 

Izuku’s eyes went wide. Ashido practically choked on her cookie. Kaminari staggered back dramatically, clutching his chest.

 

“Bro, that’s totally uncool,” he whined.

 

“Shut up, you love it,” Kirishima snorted.

 

Which was apparently true, because Kaminari immediately circled around and wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck from behind, resting his chin on the redhead’s hair.

 

“Mhmm,” he hummed smugly.

 

Izuku cleared his throat, pushing the plate of cookies closer to Ashido to give his hands something to do. She took the invitation and went in with zero shame.

 

“So you and Kaminari are official now?” Izuku asked, smiling despite himself.

 

“Yeah,” Kaminari said easily. “Ever since Mineta started saying gays were gross and being weird, we figured we might as well make a point.”

 

Izuku’s jaw tightened at the reminder. In a society built on second gender dynamics, hating people for who they were attracted to felt… extra stupid. But there was always someone.

 

Jiro snorted from in front of the open fridge. She grabbed a small box of blueberries, popped one in her mouth, and leaned back against the counter.

 

“What he means is they’ve been fucking for ages and only went public to annoy Mineta,” she said.

 

Izuku’s face went scarlet, and Ashido buried her face in her arms, laughing. Kaminari hid his in Kirishima’s hair, shoulders shaking in an inaudible chuckle.

 

“Way to make it subtle, Jiro,” Kirishima sighed.

 

She shrugged and ate another blueberry. “Wasn’t trying.”

 

“Ayy, Mido! Back from your illness, eh?” Sero called as a little wave of classmates filed in behind him. He passed by the table, clapped Izuku on the shoulder, already angling toward the elevator.

 

“Illness?” Izuku echoed under his breath, then jolted. “O-oh. Yeah. Feeling much better, thanks.”

 

He mentally smacked himself. Right. ‘Stomach bug.’ Not ‘ruinous illegal dorm heat.’

 

Sero nodded and headed off.

 

“Hey, Deku!”

 

Izuku turned toward the familiar voice. Uraraka bounced in, Yaoyorozu right beside her with a soft, tired smile. Both of them were still in their training tees and pants, jackets missing.

 

“Midoriya,” Yaoyorozu greeted with a polite incline of her head.

 

“Hey, guys,” he beamed.

 

They slid into seats at the table - Uraraka on Izuku’s other side, Yaoyorozu taking the end. Kaminari was still draped over Kirishima, Jiro leaned on the wall, and Ashido lounged with cookie crumbs all over her fingers. It was crowded, warm, and stupidly comforting.

 

Everyone here (give or take Kaminari) knew what was actually wrong with him and… nothing had changed. No one was edging away or looking at him like he was about to snap.

 

He doubted Kaminari would care, either. Beta. The most he’d do was crack a joke.

 

“Thanks for… You know. Before,” Izuku said quietly, tracing circles on the table with one finger.

 

“Don’t mention it!” Uraraka chirped, just as bright as ever.

 

“I am a little concerned, however…” Yaoyorozu added, leaning in on the word I.

 

Izuku lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were soft but sharp, all worry and analysis.

 

From across the table came a muffled snort. Ashido was licking sugar from her fingers.

 

“Aren’t you always?” she teased.

 

There were a couple little laughs. Even Yaoyorozu’s mouth twitched before she cleared her throat and refocused on Izuku.

 

“Anyway,” she said. “Midoriya. You hit a pretty intense wave of your heat right outside Bakugo’s room. And things escalated in the kitchen as soon as he released some of his scent.”

 

Heat crawled back up Izuku’s neck.

 

“Accidental or not, I’m sure he has his reasons,” she went on, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you reacted to him. Strongly. This isn’t healthy, Midoriya.”

 

Izuku swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “What do you mean?”

 

Yaoyorozu’s expression softened. She reached out, cool fingers brushing the back of his hand.

 

“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?” she asked gently.

 

He jerked his hand back like she’d burned him. “W–what?!”

 

“Yeah, I’m with Momo on this,” Uraraka added, a little too upbeat for the subject. “Omegas don’t usually react to an Alpha’s scent that hard unless it really does it for them.”

 

A ripple of agreement moved around the table.

 

Izuku scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Saying it like that makes it sound… lewd,” he muttered.

 

Uraraka gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat. Kirishima shifted in his chair; Kaminari suddenly found the cupboards ahead of him extremely interesting.

 

Yaoyorozu tapped her knuckles lightly against the table. “Besides that, have you forgotten Bakugo bullied you all through childhood and middle school?”

 

He hadn’t. He just remembered it differently than everyone else.

 

How could they have an accurate opinion on something they’d never seen? None of them had been there on that riverbank. Or on that rooftop. None of them knew what Katsuki looked like when no one else was watching.

 

Izuku twisted his hands together in his lap. “He… wasn’t bullying me. Not really. I think he was trying to protect me,” he said, voice barely above a mumble.

 

Silence.

 

“From what? Someone else’s punch?” Ashido asked dryly, propping her chin in her hand. She watched him closely, fingers drumming on the table.

 

“Ashido,” Yaoyorozu hissed.

 

“What?” Mina blinked, genuinely confused.

 

Kirishima was half-distracted, scrolling on Kaminari’s phone (Izuku recognised the obnoxious yellow-and-black case), while Kaminari idly braided the longer strands of Kirishima’s hair.

 

“He never wanted me to be a hero," he said slowly. "So he tried... threatening me out of it. I think he was trying to protect me from what heroes actually go through. But sometimes, I couldn't help but feel there was more to his anger than just that." Izuku remembered a fleeting moment, a glance they shared during a training session, where Katsuki's usual scowl softened. There was something else in his eyes: a hesitation, an unspoken confusion that hinted there might be more beneath the surface.

 

His voice faded. The ambient noise of Heights Alliance filled in around them: elevator gears, footsteps on stairs, the thump of someone’s music coming faintly from a floor above. Life as usual.

 

Ashido clicked her tongue. “That’s not the whole story, and literally everyone knows it,” she said, pointing at him.

 

Izuku blinked. “Hmm?”

 

Her expression softened into something almost apologetic. “Nothing,” she said quietly.

 

Yaoyorozu sighed as Jiro tossed another blueberry into her mouth. The doors opened again.

 

“Oh, hey, Asui!” Ashido called, waving.

 

Tsuyu stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. Her hair was up in its usual bun, even in her day-off clothes. She fiddled with her jacket zipper as she walked over, giving everyone a small wave.

 

Uraraka hopped up immediately and pulled her into a hug. “Is your tongue okay? You cut it pretty bad during practice.”

 

Tsuyu patted her arm. “I’m okay, Ochaco. Ribbit. My spit heals it pretty well.”

 

“Your spit has healing properties?” Izuku perked up, eyes shining. New quirk data was his favourite distraction.

 

Tsuyu tilted her head. “Doesn’t everyone’s?”

 

Izuku opened his mouth, closed it again.

 

“It’s something to do with the enzymes speeding up the process…” she added, trailing off.

 

Yaoyorozu straightened like a switch had been flipped. “Saliva contains tissue factors which promote blood clotting and also dissolves and removes contamin-ow!”

 

Jiro had reached over and flicked her on the back of the head, still chewing.

 

“Calm down, walking textbook,” Jiro said.

 

Yaoyorozu pouted, rubbing the spot. Ashido, Kirishima, and Kaminari all burst out laughing. The others were smiling into their cups, their hands, their sleeves.

 

“That was completely uncalled for, Jiro,” Momo grumbled.

 

“Oh, it absolutely was,” Jiro replied, utterly unbothered.

 

She slid the blueberries back into the fridge and Kaminari pressed a kiss to the top of Kirishima’s head as he stood.

 

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, yeah?” he said. “I’m gonna get you back for those bruises, by the way.”

 

“As if-ow!” Kirishima yelped when Kaminari swatted the back of his head on his way past.

 

Jiro and Kaminari’s eyes met, sharing a grin; they stepped toward each other in exaggerated slow motion and slapped their hands together in a dramatic yet devastatingly perfect dap up. The crack echoed through the kitchen, followed immediately by another wave of laughter.

 

From somewhere up the stairwell, there was faint shouting and laughing in response. Apparently, the sound carried.

 

Uraraka and Tsuyu drifted back to their seats, Tsuyu half in Uraraka’s lap, half on her chair. She leaned forward, catching Izuku’s gaze.

 

“Are you feeling better now, Midoriya?” she asked.

 

His smile faded a little, but he nodded. “Yeah. I am. Nothing too serious. Just…” He dropped his forehead to the table with a quiet thud. “Gosh, almost the whole class knows now.”

 

“Nah,” Kirishima said brightly. “It’s just me, Denki, and the girls, which is…” He counted on his fingers. “Eight people. Out of nineteen. See? You’re still mysterious.”

 

Izuku groaned. “Only a matter of time before everyone finds out…”

 

Uraraka rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades. “Don’t worry, Deku. Once house arrest is over, you can go home for heats again. This is temporary.”

 

He sat up and gave her a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. You’re right.”

 

They lingered there for a while, riding the soft buzz of conversation and clinking glasses and distant footsteps. Eventually, Ashido stretched until her back cracked and declared:

 

“Alright, squad, field trip to the lounge. My legs need a couch.”

 

No one argued. They drifted after her.

 

The second Ashido stepped into the sitting room, the remote somehow materialised in her hand. She launched herself onto the sofa, stretching her legs over the whole thing until Kirishima grabbed her ankles, yanked them up, and sat down. She hummed in satisfaction when he let her drape her legs over his lap.

 

Izuku ended up on the other couch, the one perpendicular to theirs. He tucked his knees up to his chest, chin resting on them, eyes locked on the TV as ads for some ridiculously over-engineered hoover played.

 

A few minutes in, Kirishima suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh, by the way!”

 

Izuku tore his gaze from the screen. “Hm?”

 

“About earlier. The biscuits.” Kirishima shifted a little under Ashido’s legs. “Bakugo’s been cooking more lately. He made those for you and told everyone he’d blow us up if we touched them.”

 

Izuku’s brain stalled. “He… what?”

 

“I only knew they were yours ’cause I was reaching for my protein powder and saw your name on the cling film,” Kirishima added.

 

“He made them for Midoriya?” Yaoyorozu repeated, eyebrows rising.

 

Tsuyu, curled up next to Uraraka in an armchair, nodded. “I’ve noticed he’s been more possessive lately, too. Ribbit.”

 

Uraraka frowned. “How?”

 

“Pacing up and down the corridor outside his and Midoriya’s rooms,” Tsuyu said simply.

 

Yaoyorozu slumped back. “Well. That’s… odd.”

 

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on,” Ashido said, eyes gleaming. “And I am absolutely here for it.”

 

Kirishima nodded, the two of them sharing a look that screamed conspiracy.

 

Izuku’s stomach twisted. Those cookies had been for him. Katsuki had made them. The same Katsuki he’d… used as mental material for every orgasm of his heat.

 

Even without ever touching the blond, he felt horribly like he’d crossed some invisible line.

 

The thoughts piled up too fast to sort. His eyes drifted back to the TV as the adverts ended and the opening of a pro-hero documentary rolled. Names and faces filled the screen: heroes who’d fallen in the line of duty. Izuku’s focus snapped to it like a lifeline.

 

He didn’t notice Ashido twisting around to stare at the doors. Didn’t see her nostrils flare, pupils dilate.

 

“Oi, Kiri,” she murmured.

 

He didn’t hear her, not until she nudged him in the gut with her foot. He coughed and glanced at her.

 

She jerked her chin toward the entryway. Kirishima sniffed once, then nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

 

He hissed a quiet warning at the rest of the room. One by one, they picked up the hint, exchanging looks and getting to their feet.

 

Uraraka bounced over and squeezed Izuku’s shoulder. “Hey, Deku, we’re gonna hit the showers. See you in a bit!”

 

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes still glued to the documentary.

 

He didn’t notice when they all filtered out.

 

He didn’t notice when the front doors opened again.

 

And he definitely didn’t notice the scent…

 

not until it slammed into him, full-force.

Chapter 5: Confused

Notes:

Thank you for the warm welcome back - I'm excited to keep going and finally finish this fic.... but better this time XD

Izuku went stock-still, breath catching as his whole body locked up.

 

The scent hit first.

 

Thick. Smoky. Spiced. The scent rolled through the lounge like a wave. It crashed over him, seeping into his skin. His palms went clammy. He pressed them against his joggers, rubbing in small, frantic circles as his heart thudded.

 

Katsuki.

 

The documentary murmured on, the narrator's words turning to static. Izuku heard only his pulse and the kitchen sounds in the background; Alpha pheromones pressed against his nerves, crowding every sense.

 

He didn't need to see Katsuki to know where he was. The scent outlined him in the air: sharp, controlled, annoyed. Alpha.

 

...And Izuku was suddenly very aware that he was alone.

 

He dragged in a slow breath, trying to force his brain back online. Uraraka had said something about going to the showers earlier, hadn't she? Or maybe the training grounds? He'd just nodded and kept watching the TV, assuming someone would still be around.

 

Only there wasn't anyone else around. This had been planned.

 

And now it was just him.

 

Him and the Alpha, whose smell made his spine fizz.

 

Footsteps moved across the wood - measured and steady. From the sound, Izuku guessed they were coming from the kitchen. He turned his head a fraction, just enough to peek past the arm of the couch at the kitchen entrance.

 

Overhead light caught on ash blond spikes, making them glow white. Katsuki stood at the sink, one hand braced on his hip, the other holding a glass under the tap. Izuku watched water fill the cup, watched the way the reflections rippled over the marble... then his gaze drifted.

 

Up an arm corded with muscle and faint veins.

 

Over a strong shoulder.

 

Higher.

 

Red eyes stared straight back at him.

 

Izuku's breath stuttered. For a heartbeat, he couldn't look away, pinned as if caught doing something wrong. Katsuki's face was unreadable-just the tiniest furrow between his brows giving away anything at all - and even that was simply how his face rested.

 

Still, Izuku couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that alone made his chest tighten.

 

Katsuki shut off the tap, lifted the glass, and took a careful sip. When he lowered it again, his mouth was a little redder, a little shinier. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip to catch a stray drop of water, and Izuku's own tongue darted out before he could stop it, wetting his own in unconscious mimicry.

 

Brilliant, Izuku. Just fantastic. Real smooth move there.

 

Their eyes never broke contact as Katsuki started walking toward the couches, steps slow and deliberate. Izuku's instincts screamed at him to look away, to move, to do something, but he just shrank further into the couch, curling his legs tighter to his chest, and hiding his face partly behind his knees, curls falling in front of his eyes.

 

Katsuki dropped down onto the opposite couch as if he owned it, ankle resting casually on his knee, glass balanced loosely in one hand. The other draped along his calf. The coffee table sat between them like a line in the sand.

 

Silence stretched.

 

This wasn't normal. Katsuki didn't just... sit. Not out here. If he wasn't in the kitchen, cooking or yelling at someone about their knife skills, he was training. Or blowing something up. Or dragging Kirishima out to do laps.

 

Izuku's nerves fluttered. If this was about the window... or about the text... or-

 

He couldn't look away. Katsuki's stare was steady, intent, revealing nothing. Whatever was behind those red irises was layered - focused in ways Izuku lacked words for. Something smouldered beneath.

 

Izuku had a nasty feeling his own eyes said too much: desire, confusion, panic, heat. His pupils were blown wide, green swallowed by black - a look never subtle on him.

 

The TV continued to drone: something about UK Pro Heroes and casualty statistics. Izuku didn't hear a word. Instead, he watched the small rise and fall of Katsuki's chest. He noticed the slight twitch of his fingers on the glass. He took in the controlled roll of his shoulders as he shifted.

 

A prickle of heat licked under Izuku's skin. His clothes felt a size too small. Someone had turned the thermostat up by twenty degrees. He stretched his legs out, uncurling bit by bit until he sat cross-legged on the couch. White socks slid on the fabric.

 

Why am I burning up? My heat is over. I know it is. So why does it feel like it's starting up again just because he's here?

 

Katsuki cleared his throat.

 

Izuku's attention snapped back to him. Katsuki tipped the glass again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. The muscles along his neck tightened and released. Izuku found himself tracking the movement like an idiot. He imagined sharp teeth pressing into that skin - and jerked his thoughts away so hard his brain whiplashed.

 

Get it together, Izuku. This has to stop. Focus.

 

Katsuki partially set the glass down on the table with a sharp clink and, this time, he did nothing to hide the slow sweep of his tongue as he licked his lips clean. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still fixed on Izuku.

 

Something in Izuku unspooled, and without his noticing, his scent glands flared open.

 

It was a tiny leak at first - just the faintest breath of chocolate-orange warmth curling into the air. It was enough to take the edge off the tightness in his chest, enough to-

 

Katsuki went stiff.

 

"What do you think you're doing, nerd?" he said, voice low.

 

Izuku flinched, the question hitting him like a slap. He blinked, heart leaping to his throat. " I-I don't-"

 

"You know exactly what I fucking mean." Katsuki's tone wasn't loud, but it was razor-sharp. He leaned forward, set the glass fully on the table, then rested his forearms on his thighs, staring Izuku down like he could peel back skin with his eyes alone.

 

Up close, Izuku could see the flush along Katsuki's cheekbones, the blown pupils, the way his nostrils flared as he took in the air between them.

 

Izuku swallowed.

 

And then the Alpha scent hit him properly.

 

Woodsmoke. Pepper. Something dark and warm and sharp all at once, coiling through the room like a living thing. Katsuki's pheromones surged, and Izuku's body reacted before his brain could throw up any kind of defence.

 

His knees knocked together. Suddenly, his muscles went loose all at once, as if someone had cut his strings. He immediately slumped back against the couch, head tipping over the cushion, and his throat exposed. A sweet, ragged noise slipped out of him before he could choke it back.

 

"K-Kacchan..."

 

Katsuki's hand came up, palm out, like he was physically stopping the word from going any further. He pushed himself to his feet instead, pacing a slow, tight line in front of the table, never taking his gaze off Izuku.

 

"And that," he rasped, gesturing at him with a frustrated flick of his fingers, "is exactly what I'm talking about. The way you fucking say my name. The way you sit there leaking that damn scent and pretending you don't know what you're doing."

 

Izuku's bottom lip trembled. He bit down on it, but that just sparked more heat, awareness tightening low in his stomach. Katsuki's scent rolled over him again in a fresh wave. Izuku's breath came faster, shallow and uneven, every inhale dragging more of that spice into his lungs until he swore he could taste it.

 

His thighs pressed together on instinct. His fingers dug into the upholstery. The world narrowed to the sound of Katsuki's footsteps and the pounding inside his own chest.

 

Katsuki paused, looking him over like he was assessing a battlefield. His eyes were molten now, dark and bright all at once.

 

"You have no idea, do you?" he said, quieter this time. "What you do to people. What you do to me."

 

That should not have made Izuku's insides twist the way they did.

 

Another pulse of Alpha pheromones flooded the space between them, heavy enough that Izuku almost dropped his head to his knees. Instead, his body arched slightly, trying to get closer without moving an inch. A helpless, breathy sound caught in his throat and escaped.

 

The damp heat spreading under him was confirmation. Final. Humiliating.

 

Slick.

 

Oh no. Not now. Please, not now.

 

His lungs stuttered. The scent of his own arousal curled up to meet Katsuki's, sweet and heady and impossible to hide now that it was out; this wasn't the lingering ghost of his heat.

 

It was his heat waking back up. Snapping its jaws. Dragging him right back in.

 

His heat hadn't really ended at all.

 

It had just been waiting for the right Alpha to walk into the room.

 

Izuku's vision blurred at the edges as another hot twist rolled through his gut. His whole face felt feverish, hair sticking damply to his forehead.

 

"A–hah..." The sound slipped out of him, embarrassingly high.

 

He heard a low laugh in front of him, rough and amused. Katsuki's scent flooded his lungs, thick and smoky and everywhere, and Izuku couldn't stop the soft noises tumbling out of his mouth.

 

"Yeah, see, even I was a fucking idiot about it for a while," Katsuki said, voice dropping into something that sounded way too much like a purr for someone who barked insults for a living.

 

Izuku squirmed against the couch, fingers digging into the fabric. His eyes squeezed shut as pressure coiled low in his stomach, his body desperate for something and getting absolutely no relief. His skin felt too tight. His clothes felt wrong. His brain felt like static.

 

He forced his eyes open-and immediately regretted it.

 

Katsuki had moved in without Izuku noticing, bracing himself over Izuku on the couch. One hand rested on the back cushion by Izuku's shoulder, and the other gripped the armrest. Katsuki stood close enough that Izuku could see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone and hear the uneven drag of his breathing.

 

Could feel that scent, rolling off Katsuki in waves.

 

"I'm betting you want me to fuck you right now, huh?" Katsuki murmured.

 

Izuku bit down on his lower lip so hard it almost hurt.

 

Yes. His body screamed it at full volume. His core pulsed with every breath, thighs pressed together as if that would hide anything.

 

Katsuki dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, like he knew Izuku was watching. "Before that," he went on, "I've got a question."

 

Izuku's head bobbed without his permission, a weak nod that said anything, just keep talking, don't stop, don't stop.

 

"Why the fuck did you lie about being a Beta?"

 

The words sliced through the haze like cold water. Izuku's next breath caught in his throat. He shook his head fast, the movement jerky.

 

"I–I didn't lie," he blurted, voice thin and breathy. "I never– I didn't-"

 

"Bullshit."

 

Katsuki dropped lower, actually kneeling on the floor between Izuku's legs. His arms stayed planted on either side of Izuku's hips, caging him in even more tightly. Their faces were barely a hand's breadth apart now, heat radiating between them. Izuku's breath stuttered and sped up, chest rising and falling too fast.

 

His fingers finally peeled off the couch and fisted in Katsuki's shirt, twisting the fabric and clutching at the solid muscle beneath. His hips jerked, chasing friction before he could stop himself. Instead of the empty air he'd been grinding against all week, he brushed Katsuki's abs-hard, hot, real.

 

He choked on a moan, eyes squeezing shut again. "It never... it never came up," he managed between ragged breaths. "Th-that's all, it just- never came up, Kacchan-"

 

His hips rolled again, this time completely involuntarily. Katsuki sucked in a breath, and Izuku felt the faint ghost of his exhale against his mouth.

 

"That," Katsuki said quietly, voice gone rough and dangerous, "is close enough to a lie."

 

Their lips brushed as he spoke, a barely-there drag of warmth that sent sparks shooting down Izuku's spine.

 

Katsuki moved.

 

He surged forward, the space between them vanishing in a heartbeat-

 

-and Izuku bolted.

 

The Omega in him screamed to stay, to bare his throat, to take everything Katsuki was offering without thinking twice. But something old and sharp and terrified cut in underneath the heat-the part of him that had spent years being told he was weak, useless, in the way. The part that survived by running.

 

He snapped his mouth shut, forcing himself to hold his breath. The moment the Alpha's scent stopped pouring into him, the haze thinned just enough for instinct to take over.

 

Izuku twisted sideways, slipping under Katsuki's arm in a clumsy scramble. He staggered off the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet, one hand clamped hard over his nose and mouth, the other pressed to his rolling stomach.

 

He didn't look back.

 

He didn't dare.

 

Heart hammering, scent locked down as tightly as he could manage, Izuku sprinted for the stairs and took them two at a time, leaving the lounge - and a very confused, very aroused Alpha - behind.

Chapter 6: Hungry

Holy shit.

 

No - holy shit.

 

Izuku's thoughts slammed into each other, a pile-up of noise and static that made it hard to breathe. He stumbled down the dorm hallway, palm scraping the cold wall just to stay upright. The world tilted, steadied, tilted again. He'd gotten away.

 

Technically.

 

Whether that counted as a win or the beginning of something much worse... yeah. Jury was still out.

 

His thighs squeezed together instinctively when a hot spill of slick slid down between them. The movement sent a tremor up his spine. A pathetic whimper caught in his throat. Was his body trying to wipe the slick away, or grind for more pressure? More relief? Everything felt like too much... and not enough.

 

He hated this.

 

Hated how easily he'd folded under Katsuki's scent.

 

Hated how long he'd sat there, frozen, swallowing down moans like a helpless Omega in heat-because that's exactly what he was.

 

Katsuki had given him a word for it.

 

Idiot.

 

God. And he had been. He hadn't even considered that Katsuki might be affected by him. That an Alpha - that Alpha - might be feeling anything at all besides boredom or irritation. Alpha training these days drills self-control into their bones specifically so they don't slip into a rut on missions. It worked. Mostly.

 

Omegas, meanwhile, got the usual survival kit: scent blockers, suppressant sprays, birth control packs, and emergency slick pads. All the tools you needed to pretend biology wasn't waiting to wreck your life twelve times a year.

 

Well, once a quarter for him. His mother's schedule, her compromise, her desperate attempt to let him have a normal hero education instead of vanishing every month like clockwork.

 

Being unmated meant no shortcuts; no stability bond, no partner to ground him. So he went home. He handled it alone. He survived without being treated like glass.

 

Now look at him: half-limping, half-crawling down the hallway.

 

He reached his door at last and slumped against it. Sweat pooled along his brow and temples, plastering his curls to his face. His cheeks burned. Freckles blazed as if dusted with embers.

 

His knees buckled, and he fumbled blindly for the handle. His sweaty hand slipped right off the metal. He cursed under his breath, wiped his palms on his sweats, and tried again.

 

Click.

 

Nothing.

 

Izuku blinked, confused, then horrified.

 

Locked.

 

UA doors auto-lock.

 

His key was...

 

In the shower room.

 

On the counter.

 

"Oh my god-" he whispered, voice cracking.

 

He sagged until he collapsed on the floor, legs splayed uselessly. A wave of molten pleasure surged through him, stealing the air from his lungs. Slick spilt, warm and humiliating, between his thighs. His toes curled; his stomach clenched. His breath came in desperate, shaking pulls.

 

He was trapped.

 

On the hallway floor.

 

Anyone could walk by and-

 

His dignity didn't just slip away; it fucking vanished.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, riding out another crashing wave of heat as it swallowed him whole. His fingers dug into the wooden floorboards, nails scraping for anything solid.

 

This wasn't just the worst heat he'd ever endured. It was something new - violent, overwhelming, raw and primal.

 

They said if a heat reignites, it means the Omega met an Alpha who matches too closely.

 

He had laughed at that rumour once.

 

Now?

 

Now he was choking just on the traces of Katsuki's scent embedded in his clothes.

 

He whimpered, inhaling raggedly-and instantly regretted it. Smoke and spice coiled into his lungs. It seized his insides like a fist. His body arched off the floor, thighs clamping as a fresh wave of slick soaked through fabric.

 

He wanted.

 

He wanted with a hunger that hurt.

 

Why had he run?

 

The question rooted in his mind, acidic and stubborn.

Why did you run?

 

Because if I stayed, I'd regret it. That was the first sensible voice-weak, muffled, barely audible under the roar of instinct.

 

But another part of him - louder, sharper, more honest - fought back:

 

Did he really bully you? Not the way everyone thinks.

 

No... not really.

 

Not anymore.

 

Katsuki had softened around the edges since coming to U.A. He still barked, still bristled, still prowled like a feral cat too many times kicked. But it wasn't the same. Izuku could feel it. Katsuki's anger wasn't hatred. Not anymore.

 

And maybe his mom had been right. Maybe Katsuki was trying to change. In his weird, explosive, emotionally malfunctioning way.

 

But that doesn't mean you should let him take you while you're delirious, reason argued. Friendship. Trust. Talking. Any normal step.

 

But his body had stopped listening to reason ten minutes ago.

 

A desperate sob ripped from his chest as he raked a hand through sweat-drenched hair. His thighs shook, every breath unsteady. The heat inside him throbbed, merciless and wild.

 

Katsuki knew.

 

Katsuki had known.

 

And he came anyway.

 

He scented him anyway.

 

He wanted this.

 

And Izuku... Izuku wanted him too.

 

Not as a mate. Not yet. Not romantically.

 

But physically?

 

God, yes.

 

He needed a release. He needed a solution. He needed something before he hurt himself trying to resist.

 

They could deal with the fallout later - talk when he wasn't drowning in slick on the hallway floor.

 

But right now, nothing else mattered.

 

He needed Katsuki.

 

Izuku sucked in a breath and forced himself up, shoulder grinding into the wall. His legs trembled in protest, chest stuttering as air came too fast, too shallow.

 

He blinked.

 

The world stared back at him through blown pupils and a haze he couldn't shake.

 

He turned toward the stairs.

 

Toward the lounge.

 

Toward the Alpha whose scent haunted his veins.

 

He knew what he wanted.

 

He wanted Katsuki.

 

---

 

Katsuki sat where Izuku had moments before. Legs spread, elbows on knees, forehead to clasped hands. His breaths dragged-slow, heavy, anything but calm. His heartbeat was no rhythm, just a fist pounding furiously against his ribs.

 

He'd pushed too far.

 

He knew it.

 

He'd messed up the pacing, messed up the moment-

 

But he hadn't been wrong.

 

He'd seen everything he needed to see in Izuku's eyes. Bright green drowned in black. Pupils blown so wide they practically ate the colour. Heat re-triggering wasn't a myth anymore. Every new biology module they were forced to take hammered that fact home. An Omega only slipped back into heat if they were in the presence of an Alpha they wanted on a cellular, instinctive level.

 

Plain and simple:

 

Midoriya Izuku wanted him.

 

The thought sent a fierce, prideful spark through his chest - only to fizzle when he remembered the ending. Izuku hadn't stayed. He'd dodged the kiss, dodged the inevitable, and ran.

 

Why?

 

What could possibly override an Omega's heat-driven instinct to stay and take the knot they were begging for?

 

Katsuki's nails dug into his scalp, and frustration coiled in his gut like a vice.

 

The documentary droned in the background, tinny voices from the TV crowding out the silence he couldn't bear. He wanted to blow the damn thing to pieces, but that would only make things worse.

 

Then something twisted low in his stomach.

 

A familiar, unmistakable burn.

 

His eyes widened slightly.

 

Oh.

 

No.

 

No fucking way.

 

He was in rut.

 

Ruts weren't unheard of. Just rare, annoying, and easy to avoid with the right training. The last time he'd fallen into one was when he first presented. Back then, it was just uncomfortable arousal and an urge to fuck something warm. Nothing like the strategised hell that was an Omega heat.

 

Still, he hadn't had one in almost a decade. At eighteen, he'd practically forgotten that rut was a real possibility. With enough discipline, Alphas could practically delete the cycle from existence.

 

So why now?

 

Because that fucking nerd had dragged him straight into it.

 

The worst part was that it made sense.

 

One of the only consistent triggers for rut was exposure to an Omega in heat - specifically, an Omega your biology responded to.

 

And Izuku's scent-

 

God, his scent.

 

The instant that tangy, warm, chocolate-laced heat hit Katsuki's bloodstream, it was over. Izuku's pheromones struck like a punch to the throat and a fist in his hair, dragging him under. There was no ignoring it. No resisting. Every cell in his body screamed one thing:

 

Mine.

 

It was Izuku's fault Katsuki was in rut.

 

And it was Katsuki's fault Izuku was back in heat.

 

A shitty, karmic loop neither of them could break.

 

He couldn't even hate it.

 

He should have, but he didn't.

 

Not when the truth was simple and devastating:

 

He wanted Izuku.

 

Not just to tease him, not to torment him-

 

But to ruin him in a way he'd never forget.

 

To claim him so thoroughly, the scent would stick to his skin for days.

 

And the worst part?

 

He respected the little bastard.

 

He respected him more than almost anyone.

 

Katsuki leaned back, fingers raking through his hair. Izuku's pheromones clung to everything-the couch, the air, his clothes, his skin. Intoxicating. Maddening. He could smell him upstairs, hear him faintly, feel Izuku's heat calling through the walls.

 

His cock throbbed painfully against his sweatpants, pre already dampening the fabric. A snarl scraped from his throat. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up doing something unforgivable.

 

He could go upstairs.

 

He could use his Alpha authority.

 

He could tell Izuku to get on his knees, and the Omega's body would obey-even if his mind didn't want to.

 

And Katsuki hated that.

 

Taking an Omega during a heat without their clear-headed consent wasn't dominance.

 

It was rape.

 

He wasn't that.

 

He'd never be that.

 

His leg shook, rut coiling tighter with every breath. He dragged a hand over his face, jaw clenched hard.

 

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

 

Pinky and Shitty Hair had shown up with some wild matchmaking scheme - one he'd wanted to explode in their faces until they explained their theory. If anyone understood what was going on with Izuku, it was the girls. And Kirishima. Especially Kirishima, for reasons he couldn't fathom.

 

And Katsuki had been desperate enough for answers that he'd listened.

 

They'd promised to clear the dorm, give him and Izuku space, let them finally confront whatever the hell had been building between them.

 

Four days he'd waited.

 

Four days pacing the hallway, pretending he wasn't trying to catch the barest hint of Izuku's scent.

 

Four days baking dumb cookies like some tragic sitcom love interest.

 

And when he finally got Izuku alone...

 

He'd gotten more truth than he ever expected.

 

And wanted more than truth in return.

 

Katsuki groaned, head lolling back against the couch cushions.

 

Izuku's scent was getting stronger.

 

His heat was spiking.

 

The pants drifting faintly through the walls made his rut flare viciously, a full-body shiver rattling him.

 

He was so wrapped in the ache he almost didn't feel it at first-

 

The shift of weight.

 

The warmth.

 

The thighs bracketing his hips.

 

His eyes snapped open.

 

Izuku sat on his lap.

 

Not sat - straddled.

 

Katsuki's thighs, Katsuki's hips, Katsuki's hard dick pressed dangerously between them.

 

Izuku looked ruined. Beautifully, heartbreakingly ruined. His cheeks were flushed deep, freckles stark against fevered skin. His eyes were glassy, dark with hunger, lashes trembling with every breath. Tears streaked his face, catching the flicker of the TV light, which painted them with an eerie glow. His sweatpants were soaked through with slick. Soaked.

 

And he was grinding on Katsuki's lap.

 

Slow.

 

Instinctive.

 

Almost unconscious.

 

Katsuki's breath left him in a harsh, soundless exhale.

 

Every muscle in his body locked. His hands hovered uselessly in the air, terrified of touching but desperate to.

 

Izuku's fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of his tank top. His thighs flexed around Katsuki's hips, trembling. His whole body was pleading for something Katsuki was barely holding himself back from giving.

 

Katsuki swallowed, his voice cracking around the edges of rut and disbelief.

 

"W–why'd you come back?"

 

Katsuki didn't stutter. Ever.

 

Izuku's eyes opened slowly, dark and heavy with intent. He leaned in until his mouth hovered at Katsuki's ear, lips brushing just enough to be cruel.

 

"I know what I want," he said quietly.

 

Katsuki's heart slammed to a stop.

 

Izuku smiled against him, voice low and certain.

 

"Physically. Mentally."

 

And before Katsuki could breathe, think, curse, or react-

 

Izuku crashed their mouths together, kissing him hard and hungry and unrestrained.