Chapter Text
Bakugou felt his insides were on fire. Every second of that “session” was a provocation to his limits, an affront to his position as Izuku’s alpha. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted the metallic tang of blood, his gaze fixed like a predator lying in wait. The purple-haired bastard was sitting near the couch, his body relaxed in a posture Katsuki deemed insulting.
Izuku was on the couch, his body tense despite the calm expression on his face, his calloused hands resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, but Bakugou knew the omega wasn’t relaxed. He could feel it. Deku had agreed to all of this too quickly, which didn’t surprise the blonde: the omega was worried about the well-being of their offspring.
And then it happened. Shinsou reached out toward Izuku, moving with that damn studied calmness. Bakugou knew it was part of the "process," but seeing another alpha invading Deku's personal space, even minimally, was too much. The ferocity rose like thunder inside him.
— FUCK! — Katsuki roared, pushing himself away from the wall with such force he nearly left marks on it. His firm, aggressive steps echoed through the room as he marched toward the two.
The other alpha stopped mid-movement, his hand hovering just a few centimeters from the scars on Izuku’s hands. He turned his head slowly, his lilac eyes filled with irritation. Not fear, not respect — pure irritation. That only fueled the fire inside Bakugou.
— What the fuck are you doing, bastard?! — Katsuki snarled, his voice deep and filled with rage.
Shinsou raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to the side, his expression tired.
— I told you to stay quiet, or I’ll never be able to start. — Shinsou replied in a deliberately low voice. — Do you want to help, or do you want to interfere?
Bakugou took another step forward, his fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. The heat in his throat was suffocating, his rage so palpable it seemed to fill the room.
— Interfere? I’m stopping you from touching what’s MINE, you bastard! — He growled, his voice reverberating through the room, his pheromones as enraged as he was. He felt Izuku’s body flinch slightly on the couch, but the rage was like a whirlwind that wouldn’t let him stop.
Shinsou let out a deep sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He stood up slowly, his movement fluid but unhurried, which only made Bakugou angrier.
— Bakugou, you want him to get better, don’t you? — Shinsou began, his eyes fixed on the blonde.
The provocation was clear, but the calmness with which it was delivered made Katsuki want to explode, and maybe he really would. His body tensed even more, but before he could even register that he was about to attack the bastard, Deku finally opened his eyes.
— Enough! — Izuku growled, his pheromones agitated and sour with irritation.
The silence that followed was dense, heavy as lead. Katsuki stared at Izuku, the omega’s gaze full of something that made him feel tiny and, at the same time, desperate to protect him. Deku snarled low, with a message of threat transmitted through their bond.
— This guy shouldn’t be here. I don’t trust him. — He muttered but stepped back, his fists still clenched. The slight swell of his omega’s belly left him more exposed than he would like.
Shinsou relaxed slightly, sitting back in the same spot but maintaining a greater distance from Izuku this time. Bakugou knew the other alpha was there on Jeanist’s orders, that all of this was supposedly for Izuku’s benefit. But fuck, it was impossible to watch another alpha so close to his omega, pregnant and invading his personal space as if it were normal, as if it weren’t an outrage.
Fuck, he had to take two shots of suppressants just to stay there without ripping Shinsou’s throat open.
Deku’s comment, dry and direct, cut through his thoughts:
— This isn’t about you. — Izuku concluded, adjusting himself on the couch again and closing his eyes, without really waiting for a response.
Katsuki felt something cold and heavy sink in the pit of his stomach, like a punch straight to the gut. How the hell wasn’t this about him when the pup was his too ? Deku knew exactly how to hurt him. He always had. Every word cut deeper than the omega probably intended — or maybe that was exactly what he wanted. The bond between them pulsed with a mix of anguish and anger, and Bakugou felt like he was suffocating. He was on a fucking tightrope between exploding and keeping himself together.
Shinsou whistled low, an annoyingly casual sound that felt like an inside joke to himself. Bastard. Katsuki shot him a glare so sharp it could cut metal, but Shinsou seemed completely unfazed.
— Okay, Deku. As I explained before, I’ll activate my quirk and try to better understand what’s going on. By the end of the sessions, I hope to at least have restored your omega-space.
Katsuki felt his stomach churn like he’d taken a direct punch to the abdomen. The word “omega-space” echoed in his head like a cursed bell. Fuck. He knew what that meant. He knew how important it was for an omega, especially a bonded omega, and even more so, an expecting omega. He didn’t realize he’d started biting the inside of his cheek again until he tasted the metallic tang of blood.
Fuck, Deku didn’t know what omega-space was. That was as clear as day.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at Katsuki or Shinsou, but the confusion and surprise seeped through their bond. Katsuki could feel the avalanche of conflicting emotions.
And, damn it, Katsuki didn’t know what was worse. The fact that Deku had never experienced something so essential to him as an omega or the fact that, somehow, it was his fault.
“Of course it’s your fault, idiot.” The voice in Bakugou’s head was as much a growl as he was. Their bond had started in the most fucked-up way possible. It hadn’t been Deku’s choice. It hadn’t been love or trust or any of the bullshit those stupid romances described. It had been survival. A goddamn silent and desperate agreement to save Deku from an even crueler fate. There was no room for something like omega-space when their bond was built on shattered pieces.
— Shit. — Katsuki growled quietly, but the intensity of the sound filled the space between them.
Shinsou raised his eyes from Izuku to stare at him, his eyebrows lifted in an expression that was irritatingly disdainful.
— Yeah, “shit.” — Shinsou replied, his tone indifferent but with a touch of irony that made Katsuki want to lunge at his throat. — But we’re not going to fix this with you snorting like a bull every five seconds.
— Fuck, shut up. — Katsuki snapped back, teeth clenched, his crimson eyes sparking with fury.
Izuku, who had been sitting quietly until then, turned his gaze to the floor, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. His silence was worse than anything. Katsuki could feel the shame, guilt, and vulnerability emanating through their bond. And he hated it. Hated seeing Deku so withdrawn, so small, when he knew the omega was anything but fragile.
The blonde felt an almost uncontrollable urge to grab Shinsou by the neck and throw him out of his territory. The presence of the other alpha in his den was an affront that made his blood boil. Damn it, his primal instinct roared loudly, every fiber of his being demanding he protect and comfort his omega. His inner alpha was restless, angry, growling like a caged beast. The voice in his mind was ferocious: “Show dominance, fight, claim what’s yours, bite his jugular.”
Shinsou, observing everything with the infuriating patience of a spectator who knew he was right, finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence.
— That’s exactly why I’m here, Bakugou. Your bond started wrong, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed. And omega-space is the first step.
— And why the fuck do you have to be the one responsible for that? — Katsuki growled, his anger boiling again, a desperate attempt to redirect the guilt consuming him.
“I’m his alpha. I should be able to fix this shit myself!” his inner alpha snarled.
— Because you’re not going to fix it. At least not by yourself.
The silence that followed Shinsou’s statement was like a punch straight to Katsuki’s pride. He knew Shinsou was right. Fuck, of course he was right. And that only made it all the more unbearable. Katsuki clenched his teeth until he heard a faint click in his jaw, forcing every muscle in his body not to give in to the corrosive anger.
If it weren’t for the suppressant shots he’d taken earlier, Shinsou would be dead, no doubt about it. End of story.
The session continued, every question Shinsou asked sounding like sandpaper against Katsuki’s brain. Simple, seemingly stupid questions: How are you feeling today? How’s the pup? Can you feel him kicking yet? What’s your favorite food? Shit. To him, it seemed like a ridiculous waste of time. Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, but he never took his eyes off the omega. Why the fuck were these questions so important? He could very well do this on his own, without needing another alpha in the middle of it all. And he would. Because it was his job to take care of his omega.
But then, something happened. In the middle of the session, Katsuki heard a sound that made him freeze in place. A sound he hadn’t heard in a very, very long time.
Laughter.
If you could even call it that. It was soft, low, almost like a breeze. It wasn’t a chuckle, but a slight curve of a smile accompanied by a sound so faint it could almost go unnoticed. But not by him. Never by him. Katsuki’s eyes widened, his rigid posture faltering for a moment. He stared at Izuku, who still had his eyes closed, but there was something different about him. He was... calm. His shoulders, previously tense, were relaxed, his body seemed to rest against the couch in a way Katsuki had never witnessed before.
The blonde was paralyzed, his mind struggling to process what was happening. Damn, was that really Izuku? The Izuku he knew, the omega always tense, always filled with anguish and hatred? It didn’t make sense. It was like that smile, that faint laugh, had come from a version of Deku he had never met. And it hit him in a strange way, like a punch and a hug at the same time.
By the end of the session, the impact was even stronger. The atmosphere was different. The smell in the air was different. Katsuki felt the change before he even identified what it was. Izuku’s pheromones had shifted, transformed. They were light, sweet, a fragrance Katsuki had never experienced before. Not that the usual scent was bad — it never was. But this shit was something else.
It was like creamy peach, with notes of vanilla, something incredibly comforting and at the same time... intoxicating. There was something earthy too, like the smell of wet earth after rain, completing the scent with a depth Katsuki couldn’t describe. It wasn’t an overly sweet smell. It wasn’t cloying. It was perfect. And he knew, deep down in his soul, that he was screwed.
Because he was already addicted.
Katsuki didn’t say anything, but the shine in his red eyes betrayed the storm inside him. He wanted to touch Izuku, hold him, get closer to the scent that seemed to invade all his senses and take over his mind. But he knew that any movement at that moment would shatter the delicate calm that had settled. So he just stood there, fists clenched, watching Izuku breathe deeply, relaxed, something that had seemed impossible just moments ago.
Damn. This messed with him in a way he couldn’t explain.
.
.
.
Bakugou slammed the front door open with a muffled bang, the sound echoing through the entryway like a muted gunshot. He turned, his gaze blazing in a fiery red, and jerked his thumb toward the exit, the message clear without the need for words.
Shinsou, the bastard, merely rolled his eyes, his expression of boredom plastered on his face looking like he were dealing with a sulky child. He walked past Bakugou with slow steps, bending down to put on his shoes at the genkan.
The snow outside was falling heavier now, blanketing everything in a thick, pristine layer of white. Winter was reaching its goddamned peak, but none of it seemed to bother Shinsou, who put on his jacket with relaxed movements, as though he couldn’t feel the biting cold in the air.
— I’ll be back next week. I need to write the report and submit it to Jeanist. — Shinsou’s voice was casual. As if he hadn’t barged into Katsuki’s fucking house, messed with his omega, and walked out like he owned the place.
Bakugou gritted his teeth, his jaw so tight it felt like it might snap.
— Fuck off. — He growled, the words low but dripping with venom. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to lunge at the other alpha and shove him out into the snow. Maybe that would cool his damn arrogance. But instead, he stood still, his fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms.
The most infuriating part? His omega. Izuku was fucking relaxed. After weeks, maybe months, of constant tension, all it took was a few hours with that idiot for Deku’s scent to change, for him to let out a sound that could be called a laugh, for him to breathe without looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Damn it, and that only made Katsuki’s blood boil more.
Shinsou shrugged, like he could feel the hatred burning in the air (and he probably could, given how wild Bakugou’s pheromones were) and was deliberately ignoring it. Before stepping outside, the slimmer alpha turned, his face neutral, but his eyes gleaming with a hint of provocation that only Katsuki seemed to notice.
— I’ve got a project in the works. Your help, and Deku’s, will be essential for me to move forward with it. — Without waiting for a response, he gave a slight nod and disappeared into the icy night, the snow quickly covering his tracks.
Katsuki stood there for a few seconds, the rage pounding in his head like a bomb ready to go off. A project? What fucking project? That bastard wanted him to feel grateful for “helping”? To be happy with this shit? He could shove his project up his ass!
Bakugou let out a low growl, the sound reverberating through the empty hallway. He slammed the door shut with such force that the walls of the genkan trembled slightly. The sound echoed through the house, but silence quickly returned, dense and suffocating. He took a deep breath, trying, unsuccessfully, to dissipate the anger bubbling under his skin. His eyes glinted as he stared at the closed door.
What the hell did that guy really want?
He didn’t know. But one thing was certain: if Shinsou tried anything out of line with Deku, he wouldn’t leave that house in one piece.
When he returned to the living room, Izuku was no longer there, which, frankly, wasn’t surprising. But it was bitter to realize that intoxicating scent of Izuku was already gone, replaced by his usual scent.
.
.
.
The morning was wrapped in a cold so biting that not even the heaters seemed capable of dispelling it. The air carried that stiffness typical of a harsh winter, and Izuku had no desire whatsoever to leave the comforting warmth of his nest. He curled up even tighter, the blankets cocooning him like a protective shell as he rubbed his face against the soft plush of his bunny. The familiar texture and the scent marked with his alpha’s pheromones—something Izuku hated, yet it calmed him—almost erased the restlessness bubbling in his chest. Almost.
The past few days had been strangely different. The first session with Shinsou had been uncomfortable and tense at first. But in the end, something had changed. He felt lighter, like he had shed part of the crushing weight of his existence, even if just for a few hours. It was such an alien sensation that he could barely process it. When was the last time he had felt something similar? Before everything fell apart? Before he became a shadow of the person he once was?
Izuku didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Today was December 24th. Christmas Eve. A date that used to bring comfort and love, now turned into a cruel reminder of all he had lost. It was the anniversary of his mother’s death. The contrast was unbearable. As a child, this date meant warmth, laughter, the smell of hot chocolate, and the comforting aroma of Inko. Now, it was just a void that seemed impossible to fill. He hugged the plush bunny against his chest, his trembling fingers brushing over the slight swell of his belly. His anchor, he reminded himself. The one thing keeping him standing, even when the ground felt like it was crumbling beneath him.
He knew he shouldn’t let himself be consumed by anguish. Every heavy emotion, every second of anxiety, was a risk, and he already carried enough guilt to fill the universe. Still, the memories came in waves, drowning him mercilessly. His mother’s gentle smile, the sound of her voice, the touch of her ever-caring hands.
A sharp knock at the door shattered his thoughts like a shard of glass.
— Izuku, it’s already 11 a.m.! You need to eat! — Bakugou’s rough voice, always loaded with irritation, now sounded strangely restrained.
Normally, Izuku would have told the alpha to go to hell and stayed in his nest, letting Katsuki abandon a plate of food at the door. But today… today wasn’t like other days. He needed to eat. Not for himself, but for the little being who depended on him. That thought hit him hard, filling him with a mixture of guilt and bitter determination. He already felt like a miserable omega, a terrible mother. He couldn’t fail at something so basic.
Letting out a low grunt, he threw the blankets aside and dragged himself out of the nest. The chill in the room hit him like a slap, but he didn’t waver. Wearing a long, cozy jumpsuit covered in small stars and moons, he opened the door with slow, calculated movements.
Bakugou was there, standing like a wall, holding a KFC bag. The strong, irresistible smell of fried chicken filled the hallway, and Izuku’s stomach growled so loudly he felt embarrassed. The alpha looked surprised to see him open the door, his eyes widening for a moment before his typical expression of impatience and irritation took over.
Izuku didn’t say anything, simply reaching for the bag of food. But the bastard raised his arm, keeping it out of reach with a casual motion that made the omega grit his teeth.
— In the kitchen. You eat like a damn parrot. — The blonde grumbled.
Izuku bared his teeth, his green eyes glowing with fury. He hated when Katsuki treated him like a child, but he knew arguing would be pointless. Still, he refused to make it easy.
— Shouldn’t you be working? — He shot back, his tone acidic.
Bakugou narrowed his eyes but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he replied with a low grunt.
— Took the day off. — He muttered, his rough voice laden with a weariness Izuku didn’t expect.
The alpha stepped away from the door, giving Izuku room to come out. For a moment, the omega hesitated. The idea of leaving the comfort of his room was overwhelming, but he knew he had to do it. He straightened his shoulders, raising his chin as if heading into battle, and stepped out, ignoring Katsuki’s solid presence beside him.
Izuku felt the weight of memories following him, like a specter refusing to leave. And though the smell of fried chicken was tempting, he knew no food in the world could fill the void this day brought.
As he reached the stairs, Izuku noticed something that made him pause for a moment. The soft, flickering glow of colorful lights illuminated the wood, casting vibrant reflections on the railing. He frowned, his green eyes narrowing as he descended slowly, one step at a time.
The lights were wrapped around the staircase railing, a string carefully positioned that led all the way to the base. It was… strange. Completely out of place in Bakugou’s house, which was always practical and functional, with no room for frivolities like decorations. When he finally reached the ground floor, Izuku saw more.
Opening the shoji that led to the kitchen and shared living room, he was greeted by a scene that made him stop breathing for a moment.
The counter separating the kitchen from the living room was decorated with a long, narrow table runner, with Christmas designs in red and gold, the kind of thing Izuku remembered having in his house as a child. In the corner, a small basket of decorative Santa-shaped candles gave off a faint scent of cinnamon and pine. It was as out of place as the lights on the stairs, but there was more.
In the living room, more twinkling lights were strung along the walls, the cords wrapped around small hooks like someone had gone to great lengths to position them just right. The small coffee table had delicate Christmas decorations, tiny hand-painted wooden figures, and some pinecones that looked dusted with fake snow. Even the table between the living room and the counter was covered with a festive runner, the embroidered details gleaming under the soft light that filled the room.
Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, the surprise evident on his face before he could hide it. Since when did Bakugou, of all the alphas in the world, care about something like this? The blonde was practical, straight to the point, and had a habit of dismissing anything that wasn’t functional or essential. The house always reflected that. Now, it seemed to have been touched by something more… human, almost welcoming.
The memory of the previous night came to him like a snap. He remembered the unusual noises, muffled voices, and the irritated sound of Bakugou growling orders. Izuku hadn’t been able to make out what he was saying, but now it all made sense. He had done this. The alpha had organized—or ordered someone to organize—all of this.
Izuku walked slowly to the center of the room, his eyes scanning the details. It didn’t feel real. He placed a hand on his stomach, the small swell beneath the soft fabric of his jumpsuit serving as an anchor. A confusing emotion bubbled in his chest. It wasn’t exactly happiness, but it wasn’t sadness either. It was somewhere between surprise and discomfort, with a hint of something he didn’t want to admit: gratitude.
The house was arranged in a way that closely resembled how Inko used to decorate for Christmas. He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the slight dampness threatening to fill his eyes. It wasn’t like Bakugou had done this for him, right? Maybe it was for the pup. Or for himself, to ease the guilt he was probably carrying. But no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, his inner omega felt… comforted, like this gesture had been done with him in mind.
— What do you think, nerd? — Bakugou’s gruff voice sounded behind him, filled with impatience but carrying a note of something softer, hesitant.
Izuku didn’t turn immediately. He took a deep breath before replying, his voice low and controlled.
— Since when do you care about this?
Bakugou shrugged, the casual motion contrasting with the tension Izuku could feel through their bond.
— It’s not about me. — He muttered, looking away. — Now eat something before I have to shove food into your mouth.
Izuku turned his head just enough to glance at him, his eyes still shining with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite identify. Without saying anything else, he sat down at the table, the decorations around him feeling ridiculously comforting.
The omega settled at the table, his tired eyes fixed on the aroma wafting from the KFC bags. Kentucky for Christmas was the best thing anyone had ever invented. When Bakugou placed the two packages on the table, Izuku didn’t hesitate. That fried chicken, golden and crispy, was a distant memory, a lost fragment of simpler, happier moments. He grabbed the first piece with his calloused, trembling fingers, bringing it to his mouth with childlike enthusiasm. The salty, juicy flavor exploded on his tongue, bringing a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. The sauce was thick and perfect, soaking the chicken with a tangy-sweet touch that only made him hungrier.
He chewed each piece slowly, savoring it as if it were the last meal of his life, until his ravenous hunger finally took over, and he devoured it more quickly. It wasn’t just food; it was a small spark of nostalgia and comfort on a gray day. He was so absorbed that he didn’t even notice when Bakugou slid part of his own portion over to him.
When the last piece was gone, Izuku leaned back in his chair, his hands unconsciously resting on the small swell of his belly. The warmth of the meal seemed to ease some of the constant weight on his chest. For a few minutes, the kitchen was silent, except for the muffled sound of Bakugou tidying up the table.
The alpha broke the silence by standing up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a dry scrape. He picked up the empty plates with efficient but stiff movements, carrying them to the sink.
— Go take a shower. We’re going out. — He said without looking at Izuku.
The omega blinked, frowning. The slight tranquility the meal had brought was instantly shattered. He tilted his head, his expression already hardening into defiance.
— I’m not going out today. — He said in a low but firm voice, licking the last bits of sauce from his lips. His eyes gleamed with quiet resistance.
Bakugou turned, his face hard as stone.
— You are. — The alpha said, his voice sharp and firm like a blade. — We’re visiting your mom today.
Those words hit Izuku like a stone in his stomach. He felt the air leave his lungs, the tranquility of the previous moment completely crumbling. He didn’t need to ask what Bakugou meant. Her name, even unspoken, hung between them like a ghost.
Izuku pressed his hands against the table, his chest heavy. The omega didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the small Christmas centerpiece on the table. The scent of cinnamon and pine candles, which had been a comfort moments ago, now seemed suffocating.
Bakugou continued cleaning, the sound of running water from the sink filling the oppressive silence of the kitchen. He knew his words had struck Izuku deeply, but there was no going back. To Katsuki, facing things was the only way to deal with them, even if it meant reopening wounds that were far from healed.
Izuku stood up slowly, his movements heavy as lead. The omega took a deep breath, trying to push the crushing weight to the back of his mind. But the pain in his chest was inescapable, as familiar as the emptiness it always left behind.
— I hate you. — Izuku hissed, his voice trembling, before turning toward the hallway. He didn’t want to look at Bakugou, didn’t want to face the expression he knew would be there.
The alpha remained silent, his fists clenched at his sides. Izuku hurried toward the bathroom, each step echoing through the small house. The brief sense of security brought by the meal had completely vanished, leaving behind a melancholy as sharp as the cold outside.
.
.
.
The road to the cemetery felt like a grim reflection of Izuku’s own mind—cold, silent, and filled with shadows that never fully disappeared. The snow piled on the sidewalks was pristine white, but it couldn’t hide the oppressive gray of the sky. Colored lights flickered lazily on shopfronts and the trees lining the streets, a hollow attempt to bring cheer to a city that never stopped. For Tokyo, it was just another workday. For Izuku, it was a day that weighed like a stone on his chest.
In the car, the silence was as suffocating as the road outside. The words exchanged before they left still hung between them like a ghost. Izuku had screamed until his throat hurt, unleashing a torrent of hatred and frustration at Bakugou. He had cursed him, hurled accusations sharp as knives, words that couldn’t be taken back. He had called him selfish, despicable, controlling, and had even shoved him with trembling hands fueled by anger. The alpha remained impassive, unmoved against Izuku’s storm of emotions.
In the end, everything collapsed into damn tears. Tears Izuku hated because they came as easily as his rage. He felt weak, pathetic, trapped in an endless cycle of pain and humiliation. Katsuki, without a word, had wrapped him in a heavy coat, layering him in wool and fabric to shield him from the cold of the outside world. But the cold inside him was another matter. And so, they had left.
The drive to the cemetery felt eternal, every second marked by the muffled hum of the engine and the distant crunch of tires on snow. When they finally arrived, the weight on Izuku seemed to double. He stared at the landscape unfolding before him—row upon row of snow-covered headstones, standing like silent reminders of the inevitable. The sight consumed him with a despair so deep he felt entirely frozen, as though he were buried alongside the memories that haunted him.
Katsuki opened the car door, and with a care that seemed strange for someone so explosive, he lifted Izuku from his seat. The omega didn’t protest. He couldn’t. His body was locked, a prison he couldn’t escape no matter how much his mind screamed at him to move, to do something. Every attempt was futile, and it only intensified the creeping despair in his chest. This was different from the time Bakugou had used his command on him.
Katsuki’s touch was firm but not rough as he carried him through the snow-covered field. Izuku, wrapped in layers of thick clothes, protected by gloves and a hat, should have been warm. Yet the cold he felt came from within. It was a different kind of cold, the kind that roots itself in the soul and refuses to be expelled. He pressed his face into Katsuki’s neck, desperately seeking comfort in the warmth radiating from the alpha. The scent of Katsuki’s damn pheromones filled his lungs, a warm, familiar aroma, like the smell of a home he never had. But even that didn’t seem to be enough.
The silence between them was broken only by the muffled sound of footsteps in the snow and the wind whispering through the gravestones. With every step Katsuki took, the weight on Izuku’s mind grew heavier. He knew where they were going. He knew what was coming. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Finally, Katsuki stopped. The sound of his footsteps ceased, and Izuku felt his heart clench pulled by invisible chains.
— Can you stand? — The alpha’s voice was low, surprisingly gentle.
Izuku just shook his head. He didn’t have the strength to speak or to resist. Katsuki set him down on the ground with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual harshness. Izuku looked ahead, and the air seemed to leave his lungs. There it was. A simple gravestone, surrounded by piled snow, the name carved into the stone now partially obscured. Even so, he knew exactly what was written there.
Inko Midoriya. A loving mother.
The sight was a direct blow to his soul. The memories he had tried to bury began to overflow—a torrent of images and sounds: his mother’s gentle smile, her comforting scent, the way she always held him like he were the center of her universe. Now, all that remained was a cold gravestone and unbearable pain.
He tried to move his legs, tried to step closer, but his body refused to obey. It was as something inside him knew that if he got too close, it would become real. And he wasn’t ready to face that.
Katsuki gave the omega space, stepping back silently but remaining watchful. He said nothing. He knew there were no words that could fix this, no explosion or brute force that could drive away the demons inhabiting Izuku. All he could do was be there, present, and hope that would be enough.
Izuku fell to his knees, the cold snow seeping through the layers of fabric, but he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the devastating emptiness inside him. He reached out hesitantly, his trembling fingers brushing the cold edge of the gravestone. His lips parted, but no sound came out. The words were trapped, crushed beneath the weight of his pain.
Finally, he whispered, his voice broken:
— Mom… I miss you so much.
And then the tears came, silent but relentless, streaming down Izuku’s pale face as he allowed himself to be consumed by the pain he had carried for so long.
The omega lost track of how long he had been kneeling there, his hands frozen against the cold marble of the gravestone. The world around him felt distant, muffled. The snow continued to fall lightly, covering his shoulders and hat with a wet, white layer. He sobbed quietly, the sound barely audible but enough to echo in the emptiness of the cemetery.
Then, a firm hand rested on his shoulder, large and warm against the cold fabric of his coat. Katsuki. Izuku didn’t react immediately. He was too lost in his pain, too consumed by the memories and the weight of everything he couldn’t change. But deep down, he felt something else. He felt his omega side silently crying out for the alpha’s comfort, for the warmth that could anchor him back to reality.
His sobs grew shorter and more uneven as he lifted his arms, a simple gesture, but one heavy with exhaustion and surrender. He didn’t have the strength to resist, nor did he want to. Katsuki understood the request without needing words. With a firm yet unhesitating motion, he lifted Izuku into his arms, holding him carefully but without the excessive delicacy that might make him feel more fragile than he already did.
Izuku curled into the alpha’s chest, burying his face in the broad shoulder as he finally felt warmth begin to chase away the cold rooted in his skin. Only then did he realize how frozen he was. His hands and knees were numb, even through the layers of clothing. He felt so small, so miserably insignificant in the blonde’s arms, but he didn’t resist. There was no point in fighting against the only comfort he had left.
Katsuki turned and began walking back to the car. His steps were steady, faintly echoing in the quiet cemetery. Snowflakes danced around them, landing softly on Izuku’s small nose and on Katsuki’s hair. The world kept turning, indifferent to the pain they carried. Izuku, still with his head resting on the alpha’s shoulder, watched the gravestone grow distant. Something inside him tightened, like he was leaving behind more than just his mother’s grave. That was when he noticed.
Flowers. There were flowers beside the gravestone. He blinked slowly, confused. Had they been there when he arrived? He didn’t remember seeing them before. The thought haunted him as Bakugou carefully placed him in the car seat, adjusting the seatbelt with quick, precise movements. The omega didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes fixed on his trembling hands, doubt and guilt swirling in his mind like a storm.
Katsuki walked around the car and got in, shutting the door with a dull thud. For a moment, silence reigned between them, heavy as lead. Izuku didn’t have the strength to speak, and Katsuki didn’t seem willing to break the somber moment. But eventually, he did.
— Old Hag always comes to visit and clean the grave. — His voice was low.
The words hit Izuku hard. He pressed his lips together, his fingers clenching around the fabric of his pants. Since the day of the funeral, he hadn’t returned here. At first, it was because he wasn’t allowed to while in the orphanage. But later… later, he simply couldn’t. How could he? He wasn’t the boy his mother knew anymore, the one who believed in justice and heroism. He had become something she would have despised, someone she would have been ashamed of.
The weight of his inadequacy crushed his chest. He felt like an intruder. Katsuki noticed Izuku wouldn’t respond but didn’t seem surprised. He continued, his tone firm but without its usual harshness.
— She wants to see you, Deku.
Those words broke something inside Izuku. He blinked rapidly, tears welling up in his eyes again. He didn’t know if the words were meant as comfort or an accusation, but they hurt either way. The thought of facing Mitsuki, of hearing what she might say, was terrifying. He knew it was necessary, but that didn’t make it any easier. He didn’t feel ready. He didn’t know if he ever would be.
Still, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the void, as the car plunged into the darkness of the road, illuminated only by the city lights and the memories that never left him in peace.
After what felt like an eternity, the omega gave a small nod. That was all it took for Bakugou to understand the message and change the car’s course.
.
.
.
The Bakugou house looked exactly as Izuku remembered, an aged photograph of a distant time but with details that hinted at inevitable changes. The outer walls had clearly been renovated—cleaner, more modern. The fresh white coat erased imperfections and gave the house a welcoming air, though Izuku wasn’t sure if that was true or just an illusion.
He didn’t understand why he had agreed to this. Something inside him, a faint and almost extinguished spark, had whispered that he should go. But now, standing in front of that door, he wanted to turn around and disappear.
Katsuki knocked on the door firmly, the sound echoing in the cold. The wood reverberated with an authority only the alpha seemed to possess. It didn’t take long before familiar voices echoed from inside the house.
— Oh, you finally remembered you have a mother, you brat? — Mitsuki’s animated and sarcastic voice cut through the silence, and soon the woman appeared, opening the door with a broad smile on her face.
Izuku barely had time to process the sight before Mitsuki pulled Katsuki into a tight hug. She was small compared to her son now, but her presence was massive, brimming with energy and authority. Katsuki grumbled loudly, trying to free himself from her arms.
— Hag, cut that shit out! — He growled, pulling away with a brusque movement. — I brought Izuku to see you.
The mention of his name made Izuku’s heart clench. He gritted his teeth, his body stiffening as Katsuki stepped aside, revealing him. His gaze fixed on the ground, unable to meet the older alpha’s eyes. He knew she knew. She knew everything. Everything he had done, everything he had become while with the League of Villains.
The weight of it was suffocating. She knew he had failed his mother’s name, that he had tainted her memory with his actions. He expected shouting, a look of disdain, maybe even to be thrown out. And honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He despised himself.
The silence that followed lasted only a moment, but to Izuku, it felt like an eternity.
— Aw, Izuku-kun! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! — Her voice was warm, genuine, cutting through the grim expectations Izuku had imagined. Before he could react, Mitsuki enveloped him in a tight, crushing hug. The familiar scent of lavender and something slightly metallic filled his senses, bringing back memories of a simpler, clearer past. He stood still, paralyzed by surprise, while his mind struggled to accept that there was no disdain in her gesture, only overwhelming affection.
— Mom! Cut it out, damn it! You’re going to smother him! — Katsuki quickly stepped forward, pulling Mitsuki away from Izuku with a protective firmness the omega hadn’t expected.
Izuku stumbled slightly as Mitsuki was pulled back, his chest rising and falling in short breaths. He looked at her, his green eyes wide, confusion mixed with a relief so intense it was painful. He didn’t know how to process this. He had expected rejection but had found something completely different. Something far too warm for the cold he carried inside.
Mitsuki smiled at him again, with no trace of judgment in her eyes.
— You look great, Izuku-kun. A bit too skinny, but nothing a little decent food can’t fix. Come in, let’s talk.
Her words were soft, but to Izuku, they sounded like a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He took a small step forward, hesitant, as Katsuki huffed behind him.
— Hurry up, Deku. She’s going to keep talking until you go inside.