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They bring Izuku in after he calls for help, after they cuff’d him and threw him in the back of the police car. They won’t do a rape kit at first, despite his begging and pleading once they reach the station. The knowledge starts to itch inside his gut that they aren’t listening to him. It’s not until they get him to a holding cell and strip him that one of the Omega guards seems to ‘take pity on him’ and do the ‘tests.’
Afterwards, he sits in a white room in new clothes that smell like bleach, feel too stiff, too tight. There’s blood under his nails and his body is shaking near violently as he tries not to vomit. His hands are cuffed to a chain and a ring on the table, and he keeps hearing a long, drawn out note in his ears.
Like television static, but worse.
Sitting hurts and the chair they give him is metal and cruel. He smells more blood than bleach after a while, and that makes the itch worse. He needs a medic, but they won’t give him one. Not yet. He won’t talk to the police anymore, he knows what they see when they look at him.
They see a small, delicate, simpering Omega.
They also see a murderer.
Every question gets responded to with “I’m not going to talk without a lawyer present.”
He tastes salt and bile, then nothing, then suddenly all too familiar blood. It comes in rolling waves, and in his distress he fills the room with his scent because they refused to put scent patches on him.
After a while the tremors stop. He’s left with an evil kind of silence that fills with the echoes of a skull cracking again the floor, his own begging screams, and the drip of the fucking bathroom faucet. There isn’t even a faucet in this room, but he still hears it.
A public defense attorney swings in, a crisp Beta woman with stark blond hair and a pointed chin. She takes his statement, writes down his words, then asks “How would you plea?”
He stares at her in absolute horror. “Not guilty.” Falls out of his mouth like shattered glass.
She nods, packs up her suitcase, and leaves without another word.
Silence and fear creep in once again and he’s back to isolation. The longer he sits there, the more he hears heavy grunting above him that churns bile in his stomach. He vomits once over the side of the table, but no one comes to clean it or give him water.
He tries to cover his ears but the chain doesn’t lift that far, and he can still hear echoes of horror. Izuku tries not to wail, tries not to curl in on himself. After a while he starts to scratch at dried blood where it begins to flake. He starts clawing at his wrists where the cuffs are, blood chipping off his skin and onto the table. A wheezing starts, his own breath starting to come in panicked gasps, but eventually that dies down too.
They leave him there, alone and under a glaring white light for hours. He dozes off once or twice, but wakes up screaming and thrashing. Still, no one rushes in to check on him.
After a while, he stops trying to keep track of time and lets numbness set in. There isn’t a question in his mind on how this will turn out, and it settles like burning coals in his esophagus.
He’s thirsty, and tired, and so… so fucking scared. He wants to be clean, to smell like himself and not his attacker. He wants his throat to be scratched off, the blood there ripped out, the marks gouged by his own claws until the bite is nothing but a mess of scar tissue instead of an anchor to a man he left on the floor of his own apartment.
When the door finally opens again, he barely has the energy to lift his head.
“Jesus Christ.” A woman whispers, running over to him. Izuku jerks back, hissing and curling his claws close by his chest. The woman puts her hands up, dark purple hair falling out of a few bobby-pins. “Easy.” She’s slow as she reaches up, one scent patch peeling off at the corner. “Omega.” She states, gently scenting the room.
It’s not to calm him, it’s just to let him smell her. Once he seems to ease, she puts her patch back on. She lifts her bag and sets it on the table, opening it up and taking out each item where he can see it.
It’s all medical supplies.
“My name’s Jiro,” she says, voice gentle, “Kyoka Jiro, I work for the Lawyer currently trying to secure your case.” She sets the last item down, then picks up a rag and wets it with liquid from a clear bottle. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but a nod or shake of your head would be helpful. So, are you hurt?”
Izuku swallows, wants to cry again, but he’s too tired. He nods, wheezing instead of letting proper words form.
“Are the injuries beneath your clothes?” She asks.
Izuku nods again.
Kyoka lets out a slow, sad breath. “Mother fuckers.” She whispers before looking at Izuku with the saddest smile. “I… god, I’m going to have to take your clothes off and document your injuries.” She says. “I… I read your file, what happened to you.”
She doesn’t say ‘What you claimed happened,’ she says ‘What happened.’ Izuku lets out a little gasp of relief and buckles forward, nodding.
She believes him. God, someone believes him.
She’s quick, unhooking him from the chain and cuffs while glaring at the camera overhead. She has her own camera that she brought with the bag, and she’s gentle with Izuku as she stands him up and helps him out of the clothes.
The pants are covered in blood and it makes her look a little ill.
“I’ll get you something nicer.” She whispers. “I’ll fix you up, and get you something soft. Did they do a rape kit yet?” He nods, swallowing down the pain as tears start flowing down his face.
Kyoka doesn’t comment on them, just nods and starts documenting his injuries. She takes pictures, has him cover himself, uncover himself, asks him to point to where he hurts.
It takes… a while, but when she’s done she helps clean Izuku up and bandage his wounds. She reluctantly puts him back in his pants, his cuffs, but doesn’t chain him to the table.
“Wait here.” She leaves and Izuku stands, too sore to sit and too drained to move. He feels… maybe hope? Maybe fear?
But at least he feels.
Kyoka gets him a shower and guards over him with a ferocity that borders on terror, then she moves him out of that white cell and into a car. They drive across town for a long while in silence, then she sneaks him in under her leather jacket and up to what looks like a penthouse office. She leads him to a room with an armchair, two desks, three doors, and walls covered in books. She gives him water and food, then sits at a desk to the right side of the room facing the door. She starts filling out his files on her desktop and acts as if things are normal.
Her fingers don’t clack like the nails of a secretary. They’re blunt, clipped, she’s not for show. She’s for function, and it fills Izuku’s chest with the smallest bloom of hope.
Omegas in a working environment are for show. They’re meant to look a certain way, act a certain way, be pampered little darlings. Kyoka is beautiful, but she’s not a pampered little darling. She is a Shield Maiden, and her war cry is a threatening growl that she directs at anyone who walks by the door and makes Izuku flinch back.
Once she’s done typing, she gets up and pulls a box from her desk, then gives Izuku scent patches to put on himself. She doesn’t touch him unless he reaches out first. She’s…
Izuku is terrified that she’s been through this before. He can see how she might have sat with brutalized Omegas and learned how to calm them and ease their distress simply by being there, never by scent.
He doesn’t want to think about that, if he thinks about scents he’ll think about his living room, his cracked open bathroom door, his...
“He’ll be in soon, your new lawyer, I mean. His flight was delayed.” Kyoka says gently as she gets up to take Izuku’s plate. “But he called me to get you as soon as he saw your story on the news.” Izuku nods. Kyoka seems to hesitate before she smiles. “Do you want more food?”
He shakes his head no.
She nods this time, then leaves the room and comes back with two cups of something warm and steaming. “Hot chocolate?” One cup gets put down on her desk, the other held out in offering.
Izuku hesitates, but nods. He cradles the cup, breathing in the smell, then clears his abused throat. “Ms. Jiro?” He asks, and he sounds a far cry from okay.
“Yes, Mr. Midoriya?” It holds a playful note to it as she sits down. As if she’s relaxing with a friend and not guarding a victim.
“What… who is he?” Izuku asks, throat hurting and mark pulling tight. “My Lawyer?”
Kyoka pauses, her smile slow and relaxed. “His name is Shouto Todoroki, he’s an Alpha,” she lets Izuku hiss and back away into the armchair, “but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He wears scent patches every day and takes suppressants every month. I’ve been working with him for seven years now and he’s never once made me uncomfortable.” She pushes hair out of her eyes. “Still, if you see him and you get warning bells, tell me. I’m not leaving your side until you’re ready. I’ll throw his ass out a window if it’ll make you feel better.”
The conviction in her voice makes him tremble. He might have only just met her, but… Izuku trusts Kyoka’s words, which he didn’t think possible after… was it only last night? The night before? He doesn’t even know anymore.
He understands why this Todoroki character keeps her around though.
So he nods, and Kyoka offers him another smile, then goes to a door behind him and opens it to reveal blankets and pillows. She grabs one of the fleece ones and drags it over. It smells like nothing, so Izuku quickly peels back a patch to rub the fleece over his unmarked gland. He soaks the blanket in his scent and then buries beneath it on the armchair.
It’s not home, but it’s as close as he’ll allow himself to get right now. A quiet kind of terrified comfort. Izuku closes his eyes, listens to the soft taps of Kyoka typing, and waits.
Shouto arrives at his office and knocks on the door as soon as he gets there. His files are tucked under one arm and his heart is pounding in his ears. Kyoka steps out of the office and shuts the door behind her quickly, then wrinkles her nose. She reaches out and takes the files from him before she makes Shouto stand still. She pulls off his jacket and throws it across the hallway.
“It smells too much like Alpha, he’ll lose his mind.” She states before she hurries to get him another. He has an image to uphold, and Kyoka has always been good about guiding him. He trusts her guidance, follows her lead. He might be the lawyer, and this might be his firm, but she’s the backbone of his operation.
His mind races back to the man on the other side of the door, to the picture they have plastered all over the news. The news crews couldn’t find many of Izuku Midoriya, but they found the ‘least attractive’ one they could. And even that picture was a mistake.
Izuku is… breathtaking.
His nose is scrunched in the photo, a plastic cup in his hand tilted to the side as he laughs, little Omegan fangs peeking out from behind his lips. He’s covered in freckles, skin looking softer than any Shouto’s ever seen, and his hair is dark green and fluffy. Like a mess of curls that Shouto wants to sink his fingers into.
He looks happy, sweet. Nothing like the murderer the news is trying to paint him out to be. The smear campaign is in full force, but it’s having the opposite effect as online journalists dig deep to find more information about the ‘Infamous Alpha Killer’ and come up empty handed.
They’re trying everything to spin this.
Which is bullshit. The way they frame it, Izuku’s a serial killer.
In reality, he’s an abused, scared man who acted in self defense and had nowhere left to turn.
Izuku isn’t Shouto’s first Omega client, but he is the first to have made the news and caused this much of a public uproar. Shouto had fought tooth and nail, metaphorically speaking, for the right to be his lawyer, and that was before he’d even seen the man's picture.
Kyoka had told him the details on the phone while he was being driven here, quiet and whispering as if she didn’t want to be overheard. Shouto had felt his stomach churn at the extensive damage, at the treatment of his client, and he’d felt proper vindication for getting him out of that prison.
When Kyoka returns, she has him change his patches, mists him down with a neutralizer, straightens his lapels, and enters the room first. He follows after her only when she waves him inside.
Izuku’s still buried under the fleece blanket when Kyoka comes back, but she has a serious expression on her face that sends all Izuku’s nerves alight. He chirps in question, soft and quiet, and she smiles at him gently. It’s a look he’s grown used to over the last several hours, one he craves really. That smile is a kindness he hasn’t felt in what feels like ages.
“Mr. Todoroki is just outside waiting for my okay to enter,” Kyoka says, one hand still held out behind her, out of sight, “I’m going to bring him in, are you ready?”
For a second, panic floods Izuku and he tastes bile. His inner thoughts are screaming at him to run, to fight, but he bites it back because he knows better.
Kyoka’s here with him. He’s safe. He’s fended off one Alpha alone, and he knows that with her at his side he could and would do it again.
Izuku nods when he can feel his body twitching, and Kyoka turns and ushers a man inside that makes Izuku blink.
He… isn’t expecting Shouto Todoroki to look like… that.
He expects tall, he hasn’t met an Alpha that hasn’t been tall, but Izuku never expected… that tall. Todoroki stands like a statue, but he’s not broad chested or built with wide shoulders like your poster boy Alpha’s are. His muscles still fill out his suit, but in a softer way rather than an almost imposing one.
Todoroki looks like a Beta, but bigger. He’s also got some of the softest features Izuku has ever seen on an Alpha. His hair is in a short, loose ponytail that might go to his shoulders, but Izuku can’t tell. The color is split down the middle, half white and half red, and he has strands that hang out on either side in front of his ears.
Izuku presses his back to the armchair despite Kyoka being between them and despite the fact he can’t smell Todoroki.
“Mr. Midoriya.” Todoroki’s voice is nothing like Izuku expects, and yet… it suits him. “My name is Shouto Todoroki. If you’ll have me, I’d like to be your defense attorney during your trial.” He doesn’t move when Kyoka gets up and drags over a fold out chair. She sets it down a safe distance away from the armchair, then pulls a fold out dinner table and sets that in front of the seat.
Izuku tenses when Todoroki takes a step forward, letting out a warning hiss, but Todoroki simply nods and steps back.
It takes… far longer than it should for Todoroki to get to the chair, and at one point Izuku yeowls and almost vaults over the back of the armchair, but Kyoka crowds his space. She asks him in a low whisper, ‘Do you want me to make him leave?’ and Izuku trembles all over, but shakes his head no.
Time creeps by before Todoroki is seated, and he sets out the case file and other reports in front of him. He accepts the cup of tea Kyoka makes him and thanks her gently. She still keeps herself between Izuku and the Alpha, but when she sits down at her desk, she’s an obstacle Todoroki would have to walk around should he want to get to Izuku.
When Izuku finds his voice again, it’s almost too quiet. “How much… is this going to cost me?” He watches the way Todoroki blinks in surprise, looking up with eyes that glint off the lamp light coming from Kyoka’s desk.
“Nothing.” Todoroki states. “Any fees will be on my part. I want to take this case pro bono.” He looks back at the case files as if it isn’t a huge deal to offer his services like that. As if that kind of line doesn’t carry the heavy weight of other debts.
Izuku feels his hands tremble and he clutches the blanket closer to his chest. “If you don’t want money, then what do you want from me?” He feels the hiss more than he hears it, the rattling in his throat bubbling up fast. Kyoka leans forward in her chair, poised to stand should she need to get between them.
But Todoroki doesn’t snarl back, doesn’t growl, or sneer, or… react, really. He simply looks up and nods.
“I have a personal investment in seeing charges against you dropped. What that… man,” it’s the first aggressive thing Todoroki has said and it causes Izuku to fight back a whimper, “did to you, that was and is unforgivable. The fact people are treating you like some kind of monster for defending yourself against your attacker is absurd and unjust.” He lets out a steady breath, then takes a sip of his tea as if to calm his nerves.
Izuku swallows and tucks the blanket beneath his chin. “… what’s your… personal investment?” He asks it in a whisper, knuckles white and hidden in the blanket.
Todoroki sets his tea to the side and folds his hands over one another. He’s quiet for a long while, long enough that Kyoka starts typing again and Izuku relaxes into the armchair.
When Todoroki starts talking, it’s quiet at first, but slowly he picks up the longer he goes on. “I’ve been outspoken in my defense of Omega’s in abuse cases for years now, and I won’t lie to you by saying the reasons aren’t personal. Growing up I… my father was an abusive Alpha. He used his scent and his commands, both physically and mentally, against my mother, myself, and my siblings. Despite marrying her, he saw my mother and his to other Omega children as lesser.”
Kyoka stopped typing, leaving the room in a chill kind of quiet.
“He used his Status and his Commands to belittle, berate, and degrade my mother. She… we weren’t able to help her, we were children after all. Even after we grew up, there was still little I could do besides move her away from him. So… I went to law school to help retroactively. And now here I am, taking on cases for those who have been wronged by a butchered society that favors an Alphas words over a victims pain.” There’s a soft growl forming in Todoroki’s throat that he quickly stamps down at Kyoka’s cough. He shakes his head, tucking the red strands of hair behind his ear.
They fall forward again without hesitation.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this. I should be focusing on your case.” He offers a softer smile, and Izuku swallows. “If you’ll still have me as your lawyer, that is. Knowing what you do now?”
Hesitantly, Izuku glances over at Kyoka, who smiles at him and nods. They don’t exchange words, but the comfort in her presence is enough to steel Izuku’s nerves.
He knows how Alpha’s work, but Todoroki isn’t… he’s nothing like the Alpha’s Izuku has known or worked beside. He seems to genuinely care about the outcome of this case, about the outcome of Izuku’s future. It… something about that makes Izuku feel like he can breathe again.
This man who has never met him before, this Alpha who could control both himself and Kyoka to jump out the window at any second if he flooded the room with his scent and issued a Command, he wants to help Izuku. He wants Izuku free, wants him to feel safe, to walk away from this despite the nightmares that will follow him. He wants to know that justice will be on Izuku’s side.
When Todoroki sees Izuku, he doesn’t see a murderer.
He sees a victim.
He sees someone who needs help.
And Izuku knows deep in his heart that even if things go wrong, that he’s going to see Shouto Todoroki as his hero for the foreseeable future.
“I’d be honored if you took on my case.” Izuku says, and he realizes it’s the strongest his voice has sounded in days outside of his desperate screams. “I… how are we going to go about this?”
Todoroki smiles and looks over to Kyoka, who nods and gets up from her desk.
She walks over to the armchair and lets out a soft croon, requesting space. Izuku chirps and scoots over as gingerly as he can for her, and she squeezes in and peels back a scent patch. He leans against her side and purrs, deep and almost unheard as he soaks up her calming scent.
“Why don’t we start with you telling me what happened that night?” Todoroki asks.
Izuku stops purring.
“Your account will be for the record, I won’t account it like the police report.” Izuku sucks in a deep breath and feels Kyoka’s hand in his own. “If you want me to leave the room and only tell Ms. Jiro, I’ll be happy to step outside. Your comfort in this situation is far more important than you realize.”
Izuku knows he’s trembling, but he shakes his head no.
“I… I need to get it out.” He whispers. “I’ll have to get used to… to telling it, over and over. I know I will. So… why not start now?”
Beside him, Kyoka squeezes his hand. “I’m right here if you want to stop at any time.” She states.
Izuku nods, sucks in a deep breath, and closes his eyes.
“Mr. Midoriya! We’d like to ask you a few questions!” The banging on the window causes Izuku to jump, fear racing through him as he crowds closer to Kyoka. Security barely has time to rush in and push the people back from the car, but the damage is done. The various thumps and shouts twist Izuku’s thoughts, dragging him back to the cold wooden floor of his apartment where his nails cut grooves into each slat. His eyes shut momentarily as he tries to bury himself in the safety of Kyoka’s scent, in the heavy weight of Todoroki’s presence across from them.
But all Izuku can see is the blood on the floor of his apartment, the red seeping into the rug. He can hear the belt as it was thrown so hard it pushed open the bathroom door and let in the sound of the dripping faucet. The chill from outside pouring in and soaking into his bones as his clothes were torn away.
Todoroki’s hum drags him up and out of the nightmare, but Izuku still flinches when the flash of a camera tries to take their picture outside of the car. The windows are tinted thankfully, so they’ll only get their own desperate reflections, but it still feels foul.
“Izuku,” it’s still so strange to hear Todoroki call him by his first name, “do you want us to drive around the block? We got here early just in case this happened. Would that make you more comfortable?” Todoroki asks, not touching but offering support with his voice. Not a Command, just words.
Izuku tries to steady himself against Kyoka’s side. Her hands are warm against him, her gloves draped over her thighs. She doesn’t speak, but she fills the car with her scent. Sometimes Izuku thinks that she might be the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.
He never thought he’d be able to handle scenting again after The Incident, but it’s… different now. Kyoka has never scented to control, she’s only ever scented to fill the space. The days she wears scent patches to the office are sad and quiet for Izuku, because Todoroki… doesn’t scent.
Izuku misses the smells all around him, he’s used to scents surrounding him heavily in his shop. Used to customers who walk in without patches and fill the store in their curiosity. He doesn’t want to be terrified of scenting after The Incident, he wants to go back to feeling at home in his shop, surrounded by strangers.
But if he can’t even handle the press, how will he handle opening his shop by himself? He doesn’t want to sell his business, he fought so fucking hard to own it as an Omega. He can’t thank his employees enough for working despite the bad press outside, for taking and delivering orders, for keeping him up to date while he hides away in a new apartment.
“I just want to get this over with.” Izuku admits. “I want to get inside.” His chest feels heavy and his stomach feels light. He wants to throw up, wants to sink into the pavement and fall asleep forever. Izuku wants to roll down the window and scream at these people until his throat is bloody and raw.
But he won’t do any of that.
“Remember, don’t answer anything. Let me or Kyoka handle the press.” Todoroki says, scooting closer to the door. “And if you start to panic, just pull up the hood.”
Izuku nods and feels Kyoka’s hand in his, this time with the glove.
Todoroki opens the door and steps out first, like an elegant celebrity on a red carpet instead of a lawyer defending a case that’s going to shake the very core of society.
“We’ll not be taking any questions.” Todoroki states. “We aren’t here for your amusement or your curiosity, we’re here to see that justice is upheld. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turns back to the car and reaches a hand inside.
Izuku takes it, squeezing tight. The scars from his wood cutting tools over the years seem brighter, thicker, but he knows they aren’t. It’s stress, a trick of the flashing lights, and he ignores it.
He climbs out of the car with Todoroki’s help and lets his hand go. Kyoka is next, Todoroki helping her the same way he helped Izuku.
Despite Todoroki’s statement, questions pound all around Izuku and he has to shut his eyes and bite hard at the inside of his lip.
‘Why did you kill your mate?’
‘What gave you the right to harm an Alpha?’
‘What’s it feel like to be a murderer!’
He expects these, expects the scorn and cruelty, but he waits. Kyoka places a hand on his elbow and he opens his eyes, the three of them walking toward the steps.
“Mr. Midoriya.” A voice calls out, same as any other in the crowd. “I hope they realize you’re innocent! Because you are! You deserve justice, not this hateful mess!” That nearly makes Izuku trip over his own feet.
He turns his head and sees a… rather large group that are pushing the press and people with cameras out of the way. One woman stands there holding up a sign, tears pouring down her cheeks.
‘Self Defense Isn’t Murder! No Means No!’
Izuku wants to run to her, wants to croon at her and ask if she’s okay, but he knows she isn’t. Todoroki’s hand is on his shoulder, turning him away from the crowd.
“You’ve got more support than you think.” Todoroki whispers close to his ear. “Let’s get inside.”
Izuku nods, but he can’t help but turn back as they reach the stairs. There are more signs being lifted into the air, and each one makes his chest ache. Tears threaten to spill over, but he holds them off.
‘Commands Are Not Consent!’ waves from a young man who is covered in tattoos along his arms and what looks like a vicious, brutalized mate bite that takes over half his neck.
Izuku swallows back rage at the injustice these people have faced, forgetting his own troubles momentarily to be filled with the righteous indignation that these people may never get the chance he’s getting.
Unless he wins.
The front doors open and Izuku takes a steadying breath as he walks inside.
They’re going to win, and not just for him.
They’re going to win for every Omega who has been where he is, but didn’t have the voice he now has.
While everyone piles into the courtroom, Todoroki sits next to Izuku behind the thick wooden desk and hands over his scarf. Behind them, Kyoka sits for support since she can’t be at the table. The scarf is the next best thing.
Izuku isn’t ashamed to admit he’s a fidgety person after everything that’s happened. In fact, Todoroki figured that out within the first hour of meeting him. It still amazes Izuku that the other man is so willing to give up articles of clothing for Izuku to twist and tug between twitchy fingers.
As Izuku waits for things to kick off, he thinks about when Todoroki and Kyoka took him back to his apartment. He thinks about how Todoroki had held Izuku up while he scrambled away from the broken hinges on his old front door, the police tape, the smell that still lingered despite the week that had already passed. The apartment was cleared, pictures and samples taken, he was free to move back in, but this was still so wrong.
His neighbor, Mrs. Haitama, an elderly Omega in her eighties, had peered out of her apartment across the hall and crooned softly in question. She hadn’t been there the night ‘The Incident’ had happened, but Izuku was sort of grateful for that. There wasn’t much she could have done anyway, other than call the police, but Izuku had already done that and it had landed him handcuffed.
Izuku remembers standing outside the door as Kyoka pulled off the police tape and she and Mrs. Haitama went inside to clean the blood and… other fluids from the floor. Izuku had been beside himself, crying heavily as he leaned against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest after sitting down.
Todoroki never left his side. It was the first time he’d been alone with an Alpha since that night, and while part of him spiked with fear, the rest of him was so content and at ease despite his tears. He had expected to feel more afraid, but… it was Todoroki beside him.
He wasn’t like other Alphas.
Izuku drifts back to the present and tugs tighter at the scarf in his hands before letting out a deep sigh. He flinches when the doors finally shut and set the walls rattling. He looks up and swallows, his whole body one live nerve ready to crumble as the first session begins.
Stand up. Honor the Judge. Sit down. All those things that start the trial bleed into one another.
He could barely keep up, but things moved at a steady pace. They have their briefing, and Izuku has to try to keep bile down. He sees Katsuki Bakugo, his state appointed Prosecutor, and he remembers him.
Sure, they were only four when they’d last seen each other, practically toddlers on a playground where neither of them had presented yet, but he remembers. When they had been smaller, the Bakugo in his memory had been… sort of a bully, but Izuku also remembers that no matter what, Bakugo never lied. He would get into fights with other kids for ‘fibbing,’ and before he moved away he stuck up for Izuku despite terrorizing him at the same time.
He sees Bakugo now and he sees an Alpha, one who wants justice. Even if it’s misguided.
“I call Ms. Yotako Imishu to the stand.” Bakugo’s voice is sharp but deep. It sounds so at odds with the memory Izuku has of that high pitched child. He twists the scarf once more and stills when Todoroki reaches beneath the table and places a gentle hand on his elbow.
It’s like a breath of fresh air.
The woman who takes the stand is one Izuku has seen before on multiple occasions. She works the reception desk at the police station, and as she’s sworn in she looks twitchy and frazzled despite her immaculate appearance. She’s a Beta, but she looks as beautiful as a fairy tale Omega Princess. He likes her because she was always kind to him.
“Mrs. Imishu, can you tell the court what your job is?” Bakugo asks. The woman swallows and nods.
“I work reception and sign off at the Musutafu Police Department.” She says, her voice crisp.
“Of course, that’s an honorable job.” Bakugo says, and Izuku feels his chest twist. “Is part of that job taking police reports?” She blinks at him in confusion.
“I… no?” She tilts her head. “I do take in Citizen Complaints though. I’m not sure if they count as police reports, but still, I write them out and then I pass those over to Officer Joto. He does the follows up.” That seems to relax her. Izuku feels grease fill his stomach.
“Of course. So, have you seen this man before?” Bakugo gestures to where Izuku sits.
Imishu looks directly at Izuku and offers a sad smile. “Yes, I… I took his Citizen Complaint reports.” She sounds sad.
“Reports? As in more than one?” Bakugo asks, sounding curious, if not twisted.
“Well, yes. Mr. Midoriya filed… at least six, if I’m not mistaken, in the last month.” She shrugs.
Bakugo makes a steady hum. “At least six? Seems… a bit excessive, to me. One should have done it. Don’t you think? After all, the police in Musutafu do follow ups on these reports, don’t they? Why would Mr. Midoriya file more than one if that were the case?” He turns and goes back to his table. “Is it true that there’s been an uptick in reports these last two months?”
Imishu nods, though she’s starting to look upset. “I… yes, there has been.”
Bakguo nods. “It’s apparently become something of a trend on social media to file false reports and waste officers time. Did you know that?” Imishu looks frazzled. Izuku has to dig his nails into the top of his jeans to keep from snarling.
“I hadn’t heard that.” Imishu states, clear as she can.
“I see. Well, six reports seems a bit of a trend to me. The defense has the floor.” He says that loud enough to hear, but then whispers, “Good luck,” to Todoroki as he passes back to his table. As if he needs it.
Todoroki doesn’t lose his composure though, he simply stands up and offers a smile and nod before he picks up a folder and flips it open. Imishu shifts awkwardly in her seat and offers her own smile, but she’s back to being nervous.
“Ms. Imishu, I was reading the reports you wrote out for Mr. Midoriya, and each one of them pertains to the late Mr. Itsuko.” Todoroki holds one up, then passes a copy to Imishu. “The first one here states that Mr. Midoriya was being harassed at his store by Mr. Itsuko, that he’d come into his establishment and started knocking over displays when Mr. Midoriya turned him down for a date.”
Imishu nods as she takes the paper. “I remember this.” She holds it close to her chest. “I brought it to Mr. Joto right away, he seemed interested and told me he’d go check things out after his lunch break.” She sounds proud.
Todoroki nods. “Did you know, Ms. Imishu, that after an officer does a follow up with a Citizen Complaint, they are required, by law mind you, to sign off on those files and inform the receptionist that the issue has been looked into? Seeing as the receptionists have the contact information of those issuing the complaints.”
Imishu blinks in shock. “I… what?” She looks between Todoroki, then the judge. “I… no, no one has… ever talked to me about their follow ups.” She’s starting to look panicked. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, no you’re fine, Ms. Imishu.” Todoroki’s voice is smooth and gentle. “But would you do me a favor? Have you ever seen this form cross your reception desk before?” He passes it to her and she picks it up, her eyebrows turning down.
“I… no? I’ve never seen this.” She states, frowning further.
Todoroki nods. “Would you tell the jury what it is you’re holding? You can just read the top line.”
Imishu nods. “Citizen Complaint Incident Report, Closed Case file.” Her voice waivers as she reads, her shoulders trembling. “I… I don’t understand.”
Todoroki smiles, but it’s very sad. “Ms. Imishu, I did a little digging into your station, and it turns out that the only complaints that get looked into and closed are cases strictly on Omega’s. And they all go through one Mrs. Takusha Oba, who has opposing shifts with you. There are dozens of boxes in the file room dedicated to Alpha Complaints, all of which have gone unanswered. Mr. Midoriya’s are six papers out of thousands.”
Bakugo sighs. “Does this have a point?” The judge hums and waves for Todoroki to continue.
Todoroki nods and passes over the papers to the judge. “It doesn’t seem odd to you that despite the thousands of complaints, not a single Alpha has been looked into by the Mustutafu Police Department? And upon further inspections, dozens upon dozens of these Alpha’s are repeatedly reported for the same offenses. In fact, Mr. Midoriya wasn’t the only one to report Mr. Itsuko.”
That makes Imishu flinch. Todoroki turns back to her with a sad smile. “He wasn’t the only one, was he, Ms. Imishu?” His voice is soft, kind, and it makes Izuku tremble.
“No.” Imishu nearly whispers. “He… he wasn’t. I can tell you who else reported him.”
Bakugo stands up and glares. “Objection, Citizen Complaints are to be kept confidential unless-”
“I reported him.” Imishu says, clear and crisp.
“Unless the person reporting them comes forward or are being reviewed by a court.” Todoroki says it with a confident nod. Imishu’s shoulders are shaking, the paper in her hands crinkled and threatening to tear. “Ms. Imishu, would you like to share your complaint with the court?”
She swallows and Izuku twists the scarf under the table until his knuckles go white and his fingers feel numb. He’s probably just as nervous as Imishu is.
“He… Mr. Itsuko, I mean, he was hanging around the station after Mr. Midoriya lodged his last complaint. He was… waiting outside for someone to come out, I think? I didn’t feel comfortable going out to my car by myself because he… he was snarling and scenting the air so heavy that it was setting off the neutralizers at the door.” She sets the paper down and swallows. “I could hear him shouting, but I didn’t know what it was about at first. But I knew he wanted… he was trying to bait someone to come outside, like he thought they were still in the station. I filed the report and called Mr. Joto. I was scared. But when he showed up, Mr. Itsuko hurried off.”
Her voice cracks near the end, but she won’t look up from her lap.
“Ms. Imishu, did Mr. Itsuko seem stable to you?” She shakes her head no. “When was this complaint filed?”
She closes her eyes, sucking in a breath as tears creep out of the corner of her lashes. She takes a moment, trying to keep herself from blubbering, but she opens her eyes and looks over at Izuku. “It… It was the same day Mr. Itsuko attacked Mr. Midoriya. I should have done more.”
There’s a slight uproar in the courtroom, but Izuku sees Imishu whisper ‘I’m so sorry’ toward him before the Judge calls for a short break.
“Can you state your name and occupation?” Bakugo asks.
Izuku smiles softly, trying not to hide himself behind the scarf with his giddiness. Up on the stand, one of his best friends pushes up his glasses and levels Bakugo with a stare that’s cool and contemplative.
“Tenya Iida, and you’ll have to pick which occupation you want me to state for the court, seeing as I have two.” His voice isn’t haughty, but Izuku knows he’s being a shithead on purpose. Fuck, he’s missed Tenya’s dry humor.
Bakugo doesn’t seem phased. “Why not stick to the one that pertains to your relationship with Mr. Midoriya.” Bakugo offers a half smile that Izuku can only sort of see. He sucks in a breath, ready to growl, but Todoroki’s hand settles on his knee.
“Easy.” Todoroki whispers. “That’s just Bakugo, he’s trying to get a rise out of Mr. Iida, not you.” Izuku licks his lips and nods. Todoroki’s got a point.
“The way you say relationship seems to imply a romantic overture, and I would like to state to the court that Izuku and I are not involved either romantically or sexually.” Tenya’s mouth ticks up in a little smirk.
“Oh, not into Omega’s?” Bakugo asks, as if it’s casual conversation.
Tenya’s grin gets wider. “I’m not into men.” There’s a snort of laughter through the court. “I am married to an Omega though, my wife, Uraraka Iida. So Omega’s are not an issue for me, if you’re implying that.” He nods into the crowd and Izuku turns to see Uraraka scrunch her nose sweetly toward him. “She and I both work at Izuku’s business, Deku’s Decor.” Tenya relaxes, hands laying over one another with an almost practiced ease.
Nodding, Bakugo goes back to his table and picks up a file. “When did you start working for Mr. Midoriya at Deku’s-?” He pauses, blinking once. Izuku feels something in his chest twist as he sees the flicker of a memory pass over Bakugo’s face. Like he’s dragging something to the surface, but then it flutters away. “Deku’s Decor?” He asks instead, face back to quizzical instead of reminiscent.
Part of Izuku wants to cry out, wants to remind Bakugo that they used to be friends, that Bakugo’s taunts and teases led Izuku to hold that nickname and reclaim it. He wants to tell Bakugo that he changed his life for the better without ever knowing it, but he also knows now isn’t the time.
It never will be.
So he lets the moment go, and he turns back to Tenya.
“Three years, two months, one week, and three days ago.” Tenya says as he nods.
Bakugo perks up at that. “You seem awfully confident in that date, any reason for that?” He asks, a soft bite to his words.
Tenya looks into the crowd. “That was the day I met my wife.” He admits. “She’d been working for Izuku longer than me, and I’d needed a second job. I took one look at her and fell madly in love. Izuku knew right away and encouraged us.” He can’t help his smile, turning to Izuku with a quiet chuckle. “He’s always been the kindest man I’ve ever met, not a cruel bone in his body.”
“Strange thing to say about a man that murdered someone.” Bakugo says it offhand, not looking up at Tenya when he says it.
No one misses the way Tenya visibly bristles. He doesn’t growl, he’s a Beta and it’s rare for them to growl, but if he could he’d be snarling.
“Do you mean defended himself against a physical and sexual assault that just so happened to end up in his attackers death?” Tenya asks, voice brisk. Izuku wants to croon, wants to tell him to calm down, to breathe.
“Accidental manslaughter is still manslaughter, Mr. Iida.” Bakugo states as he snaps his folder shut. “Just because you think the sun shines out of Mr. Midoriya’s ass-”
“Excuse you-” Tenya snarls, standing up hard enough to scoot his chair back.
“Objection.” Todoroki lets out in a bark. “Mr. Bakugo, that was out of line.”
“I retract my statement.” Bakugo offers a halfhearted bow, but the damage is done. “But it does seem strange to me that Mr. Midoriya, a saint according to Mr. Iida, would hire a man so easily unsettled.” He shrugs. “Mr. Iida, did you know Mr. Itsuko?”
Tenya pauses, pulling his chair back toward him before he sits down sharply. “I knew of him, but we were not friends, nor acquaintances really.” He straightens his jacket as he speaks. “He would come into the store, harass Izuku and the customers, knock over shelves, and then storm out when he didn’t get what he wanted.”
“And you never filed a Citizen Complaint? Never called the police?” Bakugo asks, eyebrows raised in mocking shock.
“Izuku filed the complaints, I called the police on Mr. Itsuko twice.” Tenya places his hands back on the top of the bar that keeps him at the stand. “Each time we were informed a car would be at the shop within ten minutes. Each time, no one showed up, but the promise of the police was enough to make Mr. Itsuko leave.”
There’s a nod from Bakugo, and he seems to hesitate before he asks his next question. Or maybe he was just making a dramatic pause.
“So, you say that Mr. Itsuko was harassing Mr. Midoriya, yes?” Tenya nods, and he looks like he’s about to roll his eyes. “Do you think, Mr. Iida, that you were possibly misconstruing their interactions?”
Tenya blinks at him. “What?”
“Well, you yourself are married to an Omega, and as a society we all know that Omega’s can be… peculiar about the way they flirt. The way they receive affection.” Bakugo shrugs. “How can you really be positive that Mr. Midoriya wasn’t simply having a rough day and reacting with a little bit of fire that all Omegas are known for? Maybe he was just having an Omega moment.”
Izuku sees white at the thought of Bakugo’s words changing the way people see him. He’s never cared for ‘society’s’ view of Omegas, and this won’t help.
Todoroki’s hand goes from Izuku’s knee, to his wrist.
Tenya’s voice is clear and crisp when he speaks next. “I firmly believe that when Izuku stated, ‘No, I am not interested in going on a date with you, please leave my store before I’m forced to call the authorities,’ he wasn’t just ‘having an Omega moment.’” There’s an audible growl in his voice that makes Izuku turn his hand up until he’s gripping Todoroki’s.
Their fingers squeeze together until Izuku’s hand goes numb. It grounds him.
Bakugo smirks and turns away. “Your witness.” He says before sitting with a flourish.
Izuku wants to fly over the table and crack Bakugo’s head against the corner. He knows, vividly, what a skull feels like when it hits wood hard enough to shatter. It makes him sick to even think that thought though, and he lets out a low, terrified croon.
Todoroki turns to him quickly, his free hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Hey,” Izuku looks up, swallowing his whine, “do you want Kyoka to sit with you to help you calm down?” Izuku nods enthusiastically.
“Your honor?” Todoroki lets him go almost reluctantly, turning to the judge. “Would it be alright if I brought my co-council forth to sit with my client while I talk to Mr. Iida?” The judge is quiet for a few moments, but they nod.
Kyoka doesn’t hesitate, in fact she practically jumps over the gate before she sits next to Izuku and pets through his hair.
He shouldn’t be coddled like this, it’s a sign of weakness, but Izuku knows he’s losing his grip on reality. The last thing he needs is to have an anxiety attack in the middle of this fucking court room.
The sound of Todoroki talking to Iida eases Izuku’s mind though, and he counts his breaths before he focuses back on the case.
When Izuku takes the stand, Bakugo tears into him with a force hard enough to rattle him to the core. The once fond memory of a boy who used to push Izuku gently on the swing set is gone and replaced with a ruthless, sharpened knife of a man. Bakugo must think that Izuku was ‘leading Itsuko on’ if his questions are anything to go by. Either that, or Bakugo assumes he and Itsuko were having some kind of secret affair, and that makes Izuku want to be sick.
Actually, it does make Izuku sick. When Todoroki calls for a recess because Izuku is crying on the stand, he’s both grateful and furious at himself for slipping in front of the cameras and Bakugo. Still, Izuku spends a good three minutes in the bathroom emptying the contents of his stomach as memories wash over him like razor sharp waves of something that he’d much rather forget.
But he can’t forget. He has to remember, and not just for this case. Izuku is going to remember this, relive it in detached, technicolor detail, and it’s not going to be a trauma anymore. It’s going to be an open gate. His pain is going to change things.
He just… needs to take the proper steps to get there first.
As he waits for the session to restart, he finds himself alone in a side room, eyes closed and water sipped at. Todoroki finds him eventually, slipping into the room quietly by himself.
It still sends a shock of fear through Izuku to be alone with him. He’s not sure if he’ll ever feel safe with only himself and another Alpha for company, but…
Todoroki, as Izuku knows, is different.
He doesn’t act like an Alpha, but seeing Tenya up on stage reminds Izuku that he doesn’t actually act like a Beta either. There certainly aren’t any Omega instincts that Izuku shares with Kyoka flowing through Todoroki, and it leaves him as someone, or something… new.
Todoroki doesn’t act like an Alpha, not the way Izuku knows Alphas at least. He acts… Todoroki acts like himself. It fills Izuku’s lungs and settles his stomach in a way he didn’t think possible. Being around him is easy, it’s safe, it’s warm, it’s-
Izuku pushes the thoughts down. He can’t tread that road now, maybe not ever.
“Are you feeling any better?” Todoroki asks, sitting a chair away but not touching Izuku like Kyoka might have.
“My mouth tastes like bile.” Izuku mutters, trying to offer a smile.
He can’t make his face form the little upturns with his lips, so he gives up. Smiling is good to show a strong face to the public, but the only ‘public’ here is Todoroki.
“I think I have some… here we go.” Todoroki reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a container of gum. This isn’t even fancy gum, it’s right off the rack from the gas station down the street from Todoroki’s office. The same gas station he’s walked Izuku to several times in the past for cup noodles or cheap mochi.
Izuku reaches out and takes the package, sliding out a piece of gum before he unwraps it and stuffs it into his mouth. He hands the package back and Todoroki easily slides it back into his coat pocket, letting Izuku sit in silence as he tries to chew through mint and some kind of berry. Over the next few minutes, it covers up the taste of bile.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t stop him more often, Bakugo I mean.” Todoroki eventually says, not looking at Izuku. “I should have, but I…”
Izuku shakes his head. “You needed to let him break me down, show the people on camera who he is and who I am.” Todoroki does look at him this time, but he frowns when he does.
“Izuku, that’s not…” He holds out a hand in offering. Izuku takes it happily. “You shouldn’t have to go through this.”
“Better me than someone else.” Izuku squeezes Todoroki’s hand and catches the flicker of pain in his eyes. “It already happened, Todoroki. It hurts less every time I have to retell it.” That’s not true, but he thinks that one day it might be.
Todoroki puts his other hand over Izuku’s, then closes his eyes and leans down. His lips press to the back of Izuku’s hand and Izuku feels his insides wriggle. He’s not sure if it feels good or bad.
“I’m still sorry, about having to make you relive this I mean. If I had my way you wouldn’t have to, but honestly…” He closes his eyes and lowers Izuku’s hand.
“It’ll mean more if it’s you guiding me through it.” Izuku whispers. “It’s okay, Todoroki.” When his lawyer doesn’t look up right away, Izuku swallows. “Shouto.”
Bright, beautiful eyes look up at him in surprise.
“I forgive you for what you have to bring up, I don’t blame you.” Izuku rubs his thumb along Todoroki’s knuckles. “I trust you though, I know you’ll take care of me.”
Their hands slide away from one another when Kyoka knocks on the door and waves them back toward the courtroom. Izuku stands and wraps the gum up in the wrapper before he throws it in the trash can. He’s surprised when Todoroki stops him and wraps him up in his scarf.
“It’s… it might smell like me, my scent patches were getting a little full so I had to change them. If it does, you can take it off, but I just thought… I thought it would make more sense if you needed to start fidgeting with it if you were already wearing it.” Todoroki’s not blushing, but his voice is soft and gentle.
Izuku feels like his heart is going to slam out of his chest.
“Thank you.” He follows Todoroki and Kyoka out of the side room and braces himself for the stiff air and dark wood of the courtroom.
“I got home after filing a report again Itsuko and going shopping, and I locked my door. I remember locking it.” Izuku doesn’t whisper, but his voice feels like it’s far away as he stares down at his hands. The little tassels on Todoroki’s scarf twist around his fingers as he moves them. “I thought things would be okay, you know? I’m so used to locking my door, I’ve been told to lock it since I presented as a kid. So… so I locked it. That’s.. that’s supposed to keep you safe.” He swallows and shuts his eyes.
“I hadn’t seen Itsuko that day, so I thought things were fine. He normally only showed up to my work on weekdays or… or when I was out shopping. I didn’t… I didn’t think he knew where I lived. I should have, since he always found the stores I went to. I should have put two and two together, but I… I didn’t realize who he was as a person. I like to think the best in people… I…”
He opens his eyes and tries not to laugh, looking up to keep the tears back.
“I still had groceries on the table, I remember that I… I was putting up the eggs, I think? But I heard a knock at the door, and I went to see who it was through the peephole, and it was Itsuko. He… he demanded that I let him in, like it wasn’t my choice. I told him no, I told him I didn’t want him at my home. I told him I wasn’t his, and I told him I didn’t want to be.” He feels a chill fill his throat.
Izuku remembers the rattling on the front door, Itsuko’s anger at being told ‘No,’ at being denied.
“He didn’t like that.” Izuku does laugh, but it’s a broken sound. “He started banging on the door, and I told him I was going to call the police, but that just made him angrier and he…”
The crack of the wooden frame hits his ears, the shattering knob as the door flew open. A strong, callused hand bruising over his mouth as he tried to scream and scramble back into his apartment for safety.
Izuku lets out a breath. “He broke in, and he grabbed me. I tried to fight him off, I tried to...” Even though he’s perfectly safe, Izuku smells sour sweat, feels hands all over him.
Todoroki steps up and hands a folder to the judge, several folders to the jury, then sits one on Bakugo’s table.
“You’ll note the injuries my co-council and our doctor cataloged that the police did not. You’ll see the severity and the arrangement of them.” Todoroki states before he looks over at Izuku. “Whenever you’re ready.” He almost whispers it.
Izuku takes a steadying breath and looks back at the scarf. “He choked me when I tried to grab for the phone, kept… kept hitting me when I tried to crawl away after he took me to the floor. I kept screaming, telling him no, telling him I didn’t… I didn’t want that.” Tears fall from his eyes and he tries to wipe them away. “He got angrier, he… he started scenting me like I was a Pup, like I was just cranky or throwing a tantrum and not…” He scrubs his hands over his cheeks.
“I kept fighting him though. Even though my body felt heavy, I fought back. I’m used to scents, people come into my shop all the time, scents are regular, but he…” Izuku feels bile roll up his throat and he pauses, hand on his stomach. There’s nothing to come up, but he’s not going to chance it.
“He used a Command on you, didn’t he?” Todoroki asks, easily guiding Izuku where he needs to be so he doesn’t have to say it.
Izuku nods. “He Commanded me to… to lay still and take it until he was done.” His voice doesn’t sound like his own.
He thinks it might have something to do with the fact that he can hear grunting above him, feel a hand heavy on the back of his neck, hear a faucet dripping. He can see the shattered lamp on the floor, feel every scrape of his body against the wood and carpet.
“There’s a forced mate bite on your neck, when did that happen?” Todoroki asks, his voice breaking through the memory.
Izuku feels numb, but he answers. “Right after he finished.” He says, voice still so far away. “He bit down and… and tore at my throat, pulled back like it was pulled pork or-” He can’t continue, his hand reaching up to hold back blood.
But it settles over a scarf and scent patch. He’s not there anymore, he’s here, in front of Todoroki. An Alpha who will keep him safe. He looks up and the world seems brighter than it had been before. It isn’t in a way he enjoys. It’s like all the saturation has been turned up well past recognition.
Izuku barrels on though. “Once he did that, he said I would… behave for him, because now I didn’t have a choice. Itsuko said he was going to do it again, only this time he’d knot me and force me to have his pups and I-I couldn’t, I couldn’t I just-” His voice breaks and his shoulders buckle in, tears breaking over his well constructed walls. “I thrashed trying to get away from him and he hit me again and I knew he was about to Command me again and I couldn’t let him knot me I couldn’t so I-I lashed out with my claws and I got him across the face and-”
He feels blood splatter across his cheeks. “I kicked him backwards and he fell against the table and I couldn’t let him get back up so I-” He makes a broken sound.
**Todoroki’s hand reaches over the railing, not to touch, but to be seen. Izuku doesn’t latch on to it, but he does wipe his face up with the scarf and nudge the fingers with his knees.
“You did the only thing plausible to you in that moment.” Todoroki explains. “You used what you had on hand and you fought back. And still, Mr. Itsuko beat you, as shown by the lacerations and bruises here.” He turned away and began pointing things out in the files. “We’ve all heard the recording of your call to the police. When you called, Mr. Itsuko was still alive, simply unconscious on the floor. The Musutafu Police department took half an hour to show up to your apartment when they are only a block away from you. In that time, Mr. Itsuko bled out on the floor and you lay there bleeding, bruised, and violated.”
Izuku nods, voice unable to fall past his lips.
Todoroki nods. “My client went through something traumatic, something he repeatedly said ‘No,’ to, and yet the people he reached out to for help not only took their time to reach him. They also immediately put him in handcuffs, locked him in a white out room, denied him medical attention and a rape kit for hours, and then began a smear campaign against his person before he’d even been given a lawyer.” Todoroki looks directly at the jury.
“Commands and heavy scenting do not equal consent. A biological response to relax around scenting doesn’t stop a person from fighting back, a Command that renders an Omega pliant and unable to move while they are violated does not equal consent. My client is not a murderer. He fought back against an attacker and then shut down after being raped. This is not a case where ‘guilty’ should cross your mind. It’s a case where you should reconsider how you look at the way this world is structured and wonder just how many other Alpha’s have gotten away with this simply because Society sees them as better.”
He turns away and goes to sit back down. “I rest my case, your honor.” As he sits, Izuku glances over at Bakugo and freezes.
Bakugo doesn’t look upset, he looks… he looks sick. He’s paler than before, if that’s possible, and he’s staring at the open file left on the table. As if he’s actually seeing it for the first time.
The judge tells everyone to go back to their seats while the jury makes their decision, and Izuku is led down the steps by Kyoka when she hurries over. She has tissues and a water bottle at the ready, and when he sits down, she steals one of the chairs from Bakugo’s table and drags it over to Todoroki’s side.
Bakugo gets up and excuses himself for the restroom.
Izuku wakes as sunlight peeks through the blinds and warms the nest, the weekend starting just like it always does. He can’t help but smile as next to him, Shouto sleeps on with his chest pressed to the mattress and his face buried in one of Izuku’s pillows. Izuku could roll over, chirp sleepily, and Shouto would make room for him and pull him against his bare chest so they can go back to sleep snuggled together... but Shouto had a long week, and this is meant to be the start of their vacation. Izuku wants it to be special.
So he sits up, years of practice now under his belt at being quiet, and moves out of the nest so he doesn’t disturb his mate. It took them months to realize that while Izuku was a light, fitful sleeper, Shouto might have been worse.
But their bedroom is full of their combined scents, the soft sounds of birds in the courtyard hopping around the garden just outside the window. Everything is peaceful. Izuku stands, sorting through the clothes on the floor, and pulls on Shouto’s button up from last night. It smells like him, like arousal and adoration, and Izuku buries his nose in the collar for a moment before he puts the rest of the laundry into the basket.
His bare feet hardly make a sound on the floor, the soft rug in the hallway cool beneath him as he sneaks into the kitchen. There’s still a little bit of confetti left over on the counters from last nights party, a few balloons still pressed to the ceiling or tied against the back of chairs.
Izuku brushes away some of the glitter that rests on the chairs, and as he does so he catches sight of the engagement ring on his finger. His heart does a variety of flips and he grins, pulling his hand to his chest as he remembers last night.
He’s engaged now. Years of dancing around one another, of courting and kissing and moving in together, and now… now they’re going to get married.
By common law standards they probably already are, since Shouto sunk his teeth into surgically renewed scar tissue months ago, but this… this is different. Bigger, almost? This isn’t biology, this isn’t lust or hormones driven during a rut or heat, Shouto wants him for the rest of their lives.
The mere thought still makes Izuku lightheaded, but he shakes it away and goes back to making a simple breakfast. He knows his way around this kitchen, knows his appliances mixed in with Shouto’s, and he makes two bowls of white rice with a fried egg on top for each of them. He sets those on a dinner tray, makes them their respective teas, and then grabs leftover doughnuts from last nights party to put on the side.
Once that’s put together, he sneaks back into the bedroom and shuts the door with his foot. The soft tap of the latch clicking into place makes Shouto suck in a breath, and he slowly sits up from his spot half buried in the nest.
“Morning.” Izuku almost whispers. “I made breakfast.” He walks over to the empty table and sets up both bowls, mugs, and utensils. “It’s nothing really special, I just wanted to surprise you.” He turns and drags over chairs from their office desks to the now tiny breakfast nook.
As cute as the thought of breakfast in bed has always been, Izuku isn’t going to let food into their nest. He spent too long making it perfect, so the table is good enough.
“Where’re my boxers?” Shouto mumbles, eyes half lidded and hair out of control.
“I put them in the laundry already, let me get you a clean pair.” Izuku moves away from the table and gets halfway to the dresser before Shouto lets out a weak version of a bark. It’s more like a boof really, half awake and barely intelligible, but Izuku looks over to see Shouto making grabbing motions with his hands.
He laughs, but complies and crawls back into the nest, careful to keep the walls steady as he climbs into Shouto’s lap.
Shouto leans in when Izuku is settled, rubbing their mating bites together sleepily. “Love you.” Shouto says, chest already rumbling with contentment as Izuku cards fingers through his hair.
“I love you too,” Izuku whispers back, purring as lips brush against his jaw. “We should get up and have breakfast.”
“You’re wearing my shirt.” Shouto says it in a single exhale against Izuku’s throat. It’s hot, and close, and it sends heat through Izuku fast enough to make him want to squirm.
“I am.” He wraps both arms around Shouto’s shoulders and smiles.
Shouto pulls back a little, just enough to look up at Izuku with a dreamy smile on his face. His eyes are still as beautiful as ever.
“You’re only wearing my shirt.” There’s a heat in the way Shouto says it that makes Izuku shift in his lap. He can’t respond, but he does nod and spread his legs a little wider. “Is that an invitation?” Shouto asks, because he’s so good to Izuku, even after all these years.
“It’s not not an invitation?” Izuku mutters, biting gently at his lower lip as hands run up and down his thighs.
“Izuku.” There’s laughter in Shouto’s voice, a smile on his face, “you’re wonderful, I love you, and were I more awake this would be a much nicer conversation.” He peppers soft kisses along Izuku’s jaw, “but I have to use the restroom and then eat the breakfast you made me before we can do anything like this.” One hand slides up, gripping Izuku’s hip before it pulls forward and causes their chests to rest together.
Izuku laughs, turning his head to capture a slow, tender kiss, then he throws his leg over the side of Shouto’s hip and climbs out of the nest.
“Can’t have breakfast going cold.” He teases.
After a full day of cleaning, organizing, and convincing Shouto he didn’t actually need to work from home for their vacation, Izuku crawls back into the nest and pulls Shouto in with him. Shouto is sitting against the headboard, one hand in Izuku’s while the other holds up a tablet that they’re both reading from. The article isn’t anything fancy, just a proposal for a new law that goes over Izuku’s head, but seems to make Shouto happy.
Izuku hums, turning slightly to nuzzle his cheek against Shouto’s shoulder. They still smell like their body wash, but beneath that Izuku can smell Shouto’s scent. It’s earthy, almost spicy really, like a memory of a jar he found in his grandmother's kitchen once. He can’t remember what it was, and he still can’t name it now, but he eases into that scent and squeezes Shouto’s hand.
It took two years into dating before Shouto would take off his scent patches around Izuku, and even now, all these years later, and he still gets self conscious and slaps them on in the safety of their home. Izuku doesn’t hold it against him, he had a very… adverse reaction the first time he smelled Shouto’s Alpha scent. The moment stuck with them both.
But now they’re in their nest, the one Izuku made for them. He shifts a little in the bed, looking away from the tablet to look up at Shouto with a grin. “Hey,” he whispers, “Shouto?”
“Yes, Izuku?” Shouto looks over, finger sliding up the side of the tablet and hovering over the home key. Izuku swallows, nose bumping his shoulder again.
“I… would you put the tablet away?” He asks in a whisper.
Shouto smiles and presses the key, then puts the tablet on the side table. “Getting sleepy?” He asks, leaning in for a short kiss. Izuku keens very softly.
“Not… exactly.” He admits, pulling the hand that’s holding his own further beneath the covers until it rests atop his thigh.
“Oh.” Shouto flushes, but smiles. His fingers slip out from between Izuku’s and he squeezes toned muscle, reveling in the soft sigh that escapes Izuku’s lips. “You could have just said so.” He whispers.
“It’s embarrassing.” Izuku whispers back, shifting on his side to lift one leg up until his foot is tucked behind his other knee. His eyes shut when Shouto squeezes his thigh again, the warmth of his hand a little sweaty from where it had been pressed close to Izuku’s palm. “Asking is…”
“You don’t have to justify it, Izuku.” Shouto whispers as he rolls onto his own side. “Whenever you want something, whatever it is, I’ll always be happy to give it to you if I can.” His words are so genuine and sweet, and Izuku looks up at him and bites his lip.
“How did I get so lucky?” He wonders, and he loves the way the skin around Shouto’s eyes crinkles as he smiles.
“I asked you on a date and you said yes.” Shouto says through his laughter. “I think if either one of us is lucky, it’s me.” His hand rubs up and down Izuku’s thigh, his lips leaving gentle kisses across his collarbone. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful, and kind, and… God, Izuku, what did I ever do to catch your eye?” Shouto whispers against his chest, one hand trailing over his bicep.
Izuku shivers, one hand combing through Shouto’s hair. “Took your time, for one.” He mutters, remembering how it was months after Izuku was pronounced innocent before Shouto even approached him to ask for a date. “Listened to what I wanted, made me a bento box even though you’re a shit cook.”
Shouto laughs against Izuku’s chest, fingers sliding up to press against the flesh where his legs and hip meet. “The bar was so low.” Shouto teasingly stage whispers before he starts to suck a bruise against Izuku’s collarbone.
Izuku trembles, teeth dragging over his bottom lip before he lets out a tiny whine. “And yet.” He feels Shouto’s hands explore over his body. He wants to arch into each touch, but they’re fleeting and exploratory. He huffs, tugging very gently at Shouto’s hair.
Shouto doesn’t pull away from Izuku’s collarbone, though he does move to a different section of skin as he gives off a questioning hum.
“Shou,” Izuku whispers, “please.” He rocks his hips forward and one of his thighs bumps against Shouto’s.
When Shouto pulls back, his lips are wet and his eyes are blown. “Do you want me to eat you out?” He asks, a little breathless. Izuku trembles all over.
That sounds… too good, actually. He thinks about all the other times Shouto has laid him gently on their bed and knelt on the floor before him, tongue slow at first as he licks and explores Izuku’s cunt. Always gentle to start, waiting, seeing if Izuku is okay before he eases in, one hand around Izuku’s cock with slick soaked fingers before he pushes his tongue in. How he’d spent hours doing that last night until Izuku was crying and begging for relief.
“Too horny.” Izuku decides, feeling slick drool from his cunt and slide between his legs. “Need you now.”
“Okay.” Shouto flushes as he shifts along the bed. “Like this, or facing away from me?” Izuku sucks in a breath and kisses him quickly. Shouto knows that having someone over him causes Izuku to panic sometimes, and he’s always so considerate.
When they break apart, Izuku bumps their noses together. “I want to… I want to ride you.” He whispers. “Like we almost did this morning. I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
Shouto growls, but it isn’t angry. Actually it’s very aroused, and he wastes no time flopping onto his back so he’s propped against the headboard once again. He helps Izuku up through their laughter, sharing quick kisses as Izuku straddles his hips. Slick pools between them and Izuku’s face flushes, one hand stroking his cock slowly while the other holds Shouto’s hand.
“Fuck,” Shouto whispers, looking Izuku up and down, “you’re so beautiful. I’m so lucky you picked me.”
Izuku flushes back. “Stop,” he’s still laughing when he nips at Shouto’s bottom lip, but the next kiss is sweet and slow. “I picked you because I love you, don’t downplay yourself.” His heart feels full when Shouto smiles up at him. “I love you.” He repeats.
“I love you too.” Shouto breathes it from the very bottom of his soul, says it with so much conviction that Izuku can practically feel it.
He lets himself purr as he lets go of his own cock and reaches for Shouto’s, spreading slick over the head. Shouto growls happily at the touch, his hands helping Izuku up to his knees before his fingers reach between Izuku’s legs. He’s slow as he spreads the folds of Izuku’s cunt, fingers rubbing on either side and smearing slick over his skin.
Izuku’s breath hitches, his hand squeezing near the base of Shouto’s cock, right above where he knows the knot will form. He feels like he’s seconds away from falling apart, held together only by the hand Shouto keeps steady on his hip. If he lets go, Izuku might just cry, but he’s not sure if that’ll be good or bad.
But Shouto won’t let him go.
He slides one finger into Izuku with well practiced ease. “That okay?” He asks, careful as he looks up at Izuku with pure adoration.
“Mhm,” Izuku hums and rolls his hips slightly, pushing Shouto’s finger in deeper. “Keep going.” Izuku mutters, eyes shut as his purring fills the space. He knows he’s scenting contently. He can smell himself, hell he can smell Shouto, both of them thick on the air. Their scents blend together to create something new and it makes Izuku tremble and croon.
Shouto slides his finger in and out, a slow curl here and there before he pushes a second in. It’s not a quick stretch, it’s actually slow and sweet as Shouto sucks more bruises against Izuku’s neck, his other hand sliding up his hip to brush over his chest. He touches Izuku like he’s a fine treasure. Not like he’s fragile, but like he wants to see and feel every inch of him before he lets go. Like he wants to memorize the way he feels.
Izuku moans, one hand squeezing Shouto’s wrist as it rests between his legs. They don’t have to talk, Shouto understands already as he draws his fingers back. They drip with slick, and he uses that same hand to coat his cock around Izuku’s fingers. Together, they guide the head of Shouto’s cock to Izuku’s cunt, and his breath flutters in his rib cage as he starts to sink down.
Izuku’s eyes shut again, the stretch familiar and welcome as hands move to his hips. Shouto lets him set the pace, but he keeps Izuku grounded, like an anchor keeping him from floating away. With a soft whine, Izuku keeps a hand steady on Shouto’s cock as he eases him in until he feels the stretch get a little too tight. He lifts up, keeping the head of Shouto’s cock inside of him, then slides back down, his thighs trembling from the slow pace.
Shouto’s not huge, and Izuku’s not… small, but there’s still a size difference between them as an Alpha and an Omega. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but he knows that this feels right when his ass sits on Shouto’s thighs and he presses their chests together. Any doubts he had about ever falling for an Alpha are long gone, because he’s so deeply in love with Shouto that he’s drowning.
He wants to tell him that. Wants to explain how much he means to him, to stress just how much he loves him, how good Shouto feels inside of him. He wants to tell him how it feels like they were made to slot together and never unlock.
But there aren’t enough words, and the few he thinks up don’t feel like they’re enough.
So Izuku settles for kissing Shouto until his lungs are screaming for air, then resting their foreheads together as they both pant heavily. He rolls his hips, one hand over Shouto’s as their fingers join together, the other holding tight to Shouto’s shoulder.
Izuku starts the pace, lifting himself up and easing back down on Shouto’s cock until his thighs burn. He’s making little chirping sounds, soft croons of pleasure every time he drops fully onto Shouto’s cock. It makes him feel full, pushing him closer and closer to an orgasm the longer he drags this out.
When his nails start digging into Shouto’s shoulder, Shouto groans and drags his tongue over Izuku’s mating bond. Izuku clenches down, his whole body filling with a rush of heat. Shouto growls happily, rocking his hips up once to meet Izuku’s downward roll.
When Izuku lets out a near scream of pleasure, Shouto pulls him closer with his free hand around Izuku’s waist and starts fucking into him as Izuku tries to match the pace. He eventually gives up, just sitting in Shouto’s lap as he moans and lets his mate fuck him until he’s a trembling, high strung mess.
He’s going to cum soon, he can feel it. His toes are curling and his voice is cutting out, the top of Shouto’s knot pressing against the folds of his cunt. Izuku wants to beg for it, wants to wail and plead, but his brain is mush and all he can do is moan encouragingly and try to pull Shouto closer. They’re pressed together, sweat and scents mixing until Shouto growls.
Izuku knows he wants to flip them over, so he tries to bounce on Shouto’s cock to make up for it. His thighs burn and his brain is foggy with lust, but he tries. He’s pushed nearly over Shouto’s shoulder by the pressure on his lower back. He screams when Shouto fucks into him even harder than before, a surprised snarl filling the air from his normally tame, sweet mate.
He only thrusts against that bundle on nerves just behind Izuku’s cocks a few times, but it’s so hard and fast that Izuku comes with a delighted scream. He drags his claws over Shouto’s shoulder and back, not worrying about the mess he might make. There’s cum between them from Izuku’s cock, which is rubbing against Shouto’s stomach as he keeps fucking into him.
It’s almost too much, the overstimulation causing Izuku to arch and wail, but then hands slam Izuku down on Shouto’s knot and he feels his mate cumming.
Izuku moans, trembling all over as he nuzzles against Shouto’s neck as the two of them come down from their high and catch their breath. They’re sweaty, covered in cum and slick, and locked together as Shouto’s knot swells and pumps into him. The feeling makes Izuku’s eyes droop, his muscle relaxing until he feels like jello.
“That was good.” He moans.
Shouto laughs and turns his head so they’re kissing. “Yeah it was.” He agrees. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” Izuku purrs, kissing him again. “My thighs are going to be so sore though.” He whines. Shouto just laughs harder and nuzzles against him.
They’re happy. And honestly… that’s all Izuku has ever wanted.