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Izuku hadn't had a villain interaction in (almost) a record breaking amount of time. Three months was where he was at, two more weeks and he'd have done it!
Maybe he'd have a cupcake to celebrate. It's dumb, he knows it is, and that sort of 'celebration' would certainly earn him weird looks if anyone found out, but ever since the Slime Villain it was non. stop. So what he wanted a cupcake to celebrate?
Or... maybe he just wanted an excuse to bake. Sato had shown him some new recipes during his last heat. Or, premature heat. It wasn't a proper one and he wouldn't have a proper one for a least a few more years, so he was stuck with the monthly not-quite-ready-but-preparing-for-it heats rather than the every-couple-of-months-lock-yourself-in-a-room heats.
But Sato giving him the recipes... in any other situation, it would have been far less embarrassing. He knew he was a bit much when his 'time of the month' came. They'd affectionately called him a 'mother hen' and he'd put up with it because he knew it was far from demeaning. It was weird. Omegas were meant to stay at home, they were meant to cook and clean and Izuku had spent a long time trying to hide that part of him. How he couldn't help but clean and cook and fuss over every little thing, especially with his instincts demanding it.
When they'd first started living in the dorms, he'd tried to hide in his room for his first 'heat.' It was Iida, actually, who had gotten him to come out of his room. It was embarrassing, him being a little out of it and around people, fussing and cleaning, all cuddles and sometimes a bit nonverbal (it was funny how long it took them all to realize what it was,) and-
And baking.
Cupcakes and cookies and brownies.
That was it. Just cupcakes and cookies and brownies and cookies and cupcakes and brownies and cupcakes and-
It was fine when it was just him and his mom. They'd make a big nest in the living room, cuddle, and watch hero documentaries. And when he baked, she was right there with him, encouraging and kind. If he made too much, and if he had no one else to give it to, she never told him to stop and sometimes asked if he'd mind if she took the treats to children at the hospital.
He'd cried the first time she asked. And the second. And the third. And every time after that, too (happy tears, although at first his mother thought they were tears of rejection. He was quick to appease her and stuffed little notes in the containers.)
Living in the dorms, however, changed everything. They'd never treated him differently for being an omega, but they'd also never really dealt with him in that context. It was always as Hero Deku, not as premature-heat let-me-bake-for-you omega Izuku. And there were so many people he could bake for, all of them coming together as a large, welcoming pack, something he never really thought he'd be a part of.
It was nice.
So, he baked, and he baked a lot. But they were kind and they always accepted his treats and ate them. There were no hospital-kids to give them to, after all, and even if there were, the class hadn't thought of it. Sato had taken it upon himself to teach him more recipes so he didn't suffocate the class with trays of the same snacks.
Once every three months, he always got permission to go to his pharmacy and pick up his meds. He liked getting them all at once and sometimes he'd even re-up on scent patches. He could never be too careful, especially as the only omega to have been successful in even getting into a hero course. Which, honestly, had created the only positives from the crazy first year they'd had.
The publicity.
Sure, it was hellish, traumatizing, and if he could go back in time there are things he'd have changed. But, through it all, he was able to stand in the spotlight more as a hero than an omega. He was able to talk and he'd gotten good with the press. Nedzu had even had the brilliant idea of having him work with Present Mic on his public image, seeing how Present Mic was well-loved and quite known. He didn't necessarily like being treated like a special case, but he knew he needed all the help he could get.
He needed to be perfect. It was terrifying, but it was true. He was paving the way for omegas in any field. Sure, omegas were no longer legally blocked, but there was too much pressure against them, too many walls they hadn't the support to scale. Too many closed-minded individuals who thought omegas should be forced to wear collars and bear pup after pup.
But Izuku had support from his mother and All Might and his teachers and he would break down every. Single. Barrier. Barehanded and bloodied, he would do it.
At first, a teacher always had to go with him to the pharmacy. But, after their first year and especially once he'd gotten a provisional license - the first omega to get one, he'd been ecstatic - they let him go by himself. The pharmacy was close and nothing had ever happened.
(Plus, it was embarrassing for a teacher to go with him. Aizawa was the best. He stood off to the side, didn't say anything or look at anything. Midnight was the worst. She poked at things and asked questions that had his ears burning. All in good fun, but still.)
The only difference this time was he also needed to refill his emergency heat meds. He rarely used those but between the sports festival, the whole training camp kidnapping, and Overhaul, he'd been anxious and perhaps took a few too many.
The pharmacy is normal and slow. Peaceful, he'd almost say. Which, for him, was nothing more than a red flag. Life wasn't gentle. It was cynical, cruel in its apathy yet too amoral to blame. Izuku had always considered himself to be an optimistic person (and, well, he had to be) but he'd grown weary. Silences were static and overbearing, laughter hid villainous smirks and something at play, and children playing had Izuku peaking around corners, just in case. It was odd, finding comfort in a distant argument or a crying baby, but that settled as proof that it was them and not him, and so long as he knew it was someone, then life was taking its dues.
Peacefulness meant it wasn't, and life had never been kind.
"Stay. Quiet." The words are whispered but Izuku's small, hair hardly peaking over the aisle.
They don't see him.
"Y-y-y-y-you-"
"I said, quiet."
The light music of the store grows distant, something popular years back ringing in the background, drifting through the store, suddenly foreboding and uncomfortably soft.
Izuku lowers his stance, knees bending and muscles tense, arm pulling back to prepare himself. Quick and silent, best not to scare the other customers. A scene hadn't been made yet and it was better to avoid one altogether. (Does a villain encounter really count if it doesn't escalate? Yeah, he could make that argument.)
And then she screams.
It rings in Izuku's ears, sharp and piercing until he's going cross-eyed.
"Shit," that same gruff voices curses.
And then a bullet fires.
It hits the light, sparks raining down as it ricochets into a beam, the bang leaves his ears ringing and the world grows fuzzy at the edges as the store explodes. There's shouting and screaming and utter chaos.
(The music continues, soft, but he catches it.)
The gun's pointed up and the employee, while terrified, is unharmed.
Unharmed, but not safe.
"Th-this is a robbery!"
A robbery gone wrong, Izuku clenches his jaw and releases a slow, steady breath from his nose.
"Please, don't-"
"Stay down!"
"Dammit, Tanaka!"
Two villains, Izuku spots. The screaming has quieted as the other villain works on corralling the hostages. All the while, the two gunned men argue. Good. Bad, but good, he supplies as he reaches for his phone. Back pressed against a bag of chips. It crinkles. He fumbles for his phone, fingers stiff and joints creaking as he punches in his password.
Hosta-
"Phone. Down. Now." Izuku startles, breath hitching and he drops. The. Phone. Before he can look down, the black muzzle of a gun is in his face. The previously faint scent of gunpowder - fireworks, his brain had first supplied - is strong, burning in his nose as his eyes zero in on the ashy barrel.
One quick glance behind finds the employee with a gun to her head.
Shit, okay. No phone, okay.
"Hands where I can see them."
"Hey, leave the kid alone and quit causing trouble." The one glaring down at him lowers the gun, but it's only an inch or so.
"There's something about him..." he tilts his head, dark eyes flicking over Izuku's face, scanning it for any discernible features.
A cold bead of sweat slips down the back of his neck, throat tight as fear gnaws at his insides. He'd been told he was rather plain looking, he hopes that still stands.
"It's a kid-"
"I'm telling you, man." The other rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh, and then he moves.
One step, gun lowering from the hostage's head, and then he blinks.
BANG!
The screaming cuts off, all eyes wide, green steaks stuck on the back of their eyelids as they stare.
The employee had fallen back, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. The gunman that had been on her not even a second ago lays slumped on the counter, wood splintered where his head had been slammed into it.
The other gunman, the one that had been keeping such a close eye on the kid, stumbles back, eyes flicking between where the kid is now to where the kid used to be. Where the kid was just seconds ago, cowering and nervous, a bundle of anxiety that, for half a second, it had the villain convinced.
Green lightening flickers around taught muscles, eyes a bright, toxic green as they drift to the standing villain. The one that had been causing trouble, nervous, trembling fingers too close to the trigger and a mind that was slowly piecing together just who Deku was.
He's staring, jaw dropped and eyes transfixed on the lightning that jumps around and twists beneath his skin.
"Shit, you're-"
"What the hell is going on here?!" The back slams open and Izuku jolts, lightening sputtering as panic seizes his lungs, ice rushing through his veins.
Three more villains barge in from the back, all guns and quirks.
A calming breath has Deku analyzing over fear. Two mutant quirks, cat and lizard, but-
He looks down.
The hostages had been brought to the front, a positive he could be thankful for. They're close, and obviously they're his priority. Win to save, save to win. They're all tears and weak-knees. Civilians, Deku's throat tightens, they're civilians. Terrified, teary-eyed, jumping at every sound and looking up at him. Terrified but hopeful, their eyes begging for help.
For hope.
In a short hop, he's between them and the new threat, muscles tense, fists clenched, and eyes trained on the threat.
The straggler's still a bit too close for comfort but his gun's lowered.
Five villains, one downed-
"Do any of you have zip-ties for the one I knocked out?" he whispers lowly, eyes flicking over his shoulder. The villains had started arguing from the get-go, all frustration and anger. Clearly the plan had fallen apart but it gave Deku some time to think.
(About how the villains have grown anxious and angry and have guns. How they're fighting with each other and civilians will never be their priority. Or perhaps they could be, as witnesses to be dealt with, but their safety was far from important. This is bad, this is-)
"There's- there's some in- in the aisle," a woman whispers.
He immediately looks around, eyes sweeping over shelves full of secondary gender shampoo and patches and-
Shit, different aisle.
"Can you reach it?" Muffled whispers greet his ears.
The villain's voices raise and behind him, someone sobs and Deku's heart drops, throat catching in his throat as he looks back again.
A kid. He swallows something thick. Six adults, two kids. Four active villains, four guns total, one out of play. The cat mutant had a knife instead. Deku could deal with a knife, Toga made sure of that. The guns were the problem. In an inclosed space, they were already too loud. They could ricochet, they could hit someone. They could be set off by mistake. Snipe had taught them plenty and every fact - both taught and researched - was making Izuku's head spin.
Hopefully the villains knew how dangerous it was, too.
(Unlikely, unlikely. Life is not so kind.)
"Y-yes."
"Wha- oh." He shakes his head. Don't get distracted. "Move slowly," he warns. "If you feel unsafe, don't do it, okay?"
He needs to stay focused and he's already been forced to put a hostage in a potentially harmful situation. Poor heroics but the last thing he should do is take his eyes away from volatile villains. But, his throat bobs, they haven't moved.
Deku takes a few calming breaths until his chest doesn't hurt and his lungs actually fill. The buzz of anxiety that had been draining his energy waxes and wanes, each pressing thought shoved behind a wall. No guarantee of backup but plenty of windows. He'll know when they arrive (if they do- no, no, they would. If not for the villains, then because UA is paranoid and they'll know he's been gone too long.)
A heavy exhale from his nose has him analyzing the new threat. Two unknown quirks. Dangerous but he's faced worse odd. Overhaul and Shigaraki, to name a few. A group of unorganized villains wasn't something that should terrify him.
And, while nervous for the lives of the hostages, it doesn't.
Shigaraki unhinged, throwing a tantrum as he let that nomu loose, as he curled four fingers tight around his throat, now that was-
"Got it."
"Perfect, you're doing great." He breathes, ignoring how his lungs tremble, it's minute, something only felt in his bones. He couldn't let the hostages know. He can handle this. "Get his wrists and ankles and move him away from you and the gun. Don't touch the gun. And don't- don't draw attention to yourselves after this, okay? We're gonna be okay, don't worry."
Movement starts behind him.
It's stopped in front of him.
"Tanaka, use your quirk on the hero."
"Huh, why?"
The boss, or who Deku can only assume is the boss, sends him a smirk that leaves his skin crawling. It's a predatorial thing, something he's dealt with time and time again, from villains and civilians (his own viliains but no one that belonged behind bars.) His heart drops, cold, a tightness coiling between his ribs.
"He's that omega trying to become a hero."
Tanaka says something in response. An 'oh,' perhaps.
Izuku misses it.
"Y-you're an omega?" a male shrieks behind him. Izuku almost shushes him, desperate for him to stay quiet. Deku doesn't. "We're gonna die." He means to say it softly, a prayer, a whisper. Izuku hears it loud and clear.
One of the children whimpers.
Izuku has dealt with discrimination his entire life. First for his quirklessness, then because he was an omega. (He couldn't imagine much was worse than being a quirkless omega. He had nothing. Nothing going for him, no future, nothing. And yet he still wanted to be a hero.)
Omegas were weak and pliant. Submissive to a fault (a fact that had been thrown at him time and time again as if it weren't a comparative thing - between alphas and betas and omegas - but rather a detrimental fact) and they were incapable of doing most anything by themselves.
Izuku knew it'd be hard, becoming the first omega hero, but he was so close. He'd already proven himself within the hero circles, so all that was left was the public (and the Hero Public Safety Commission but Nedzu had already started on that front.)
In fact, to Eri and Kota, he already was a hero.
"Sir," he says calmly, collected, his heart no longer rushing in his ears. "You don't have to believe me, but I am going to get you out of this.
"Just watch me."
UA's at the scene moments after the police had arrived. There are a few news stations, five police cruisers, and a handful of class 2-A students. They'd forced Mr. Aizawa to let them come and, with the urgency of it all, Eraserhead knew it'd take too much effort to sway them.
"Hostage situation," Eraserhead supplies. The students look to him but his eyes are glued to the building. They do the same, mouths drawn into thin lines. "Right now, what is our priority?"
"To protect the hostages," Uravity responds, quick and concise as she peeks through the windows.
"And how can we achieve that?"
"Keep the villains calm."
"Assess the situation."
"Keep them talking?"
Uravity, Froppy, and Red Riot, all students he'd learned to trust in the field. They'd dealt with enough, and Eraserhead could admit that Nighteye had given them a lot, both him and their respective pro heroes. All figures Eraserhead trusts. All who have at some point told Shouta just how fantastic and well-taught the kids were.
"Good." Eraserhead nods. He could tell them he's proud later, once everything's finished and everyone's safe.
"We think Deku's in there, right?" Bakugo growls.
Aizawa had told the kid no to coming but with the strong argument of 'I know Deku the best,' Aizawa didn't have the time to argue. The kid was good at crafting an argument and once it had been confirmed that they would obey, he'd let him come along.
(Todoroki had tried to come, too, but Iida had helped on that front.)
"We believe so."
"Damn..." when no words follow, Shouta almost sighs in relief. "He texted me."
What?
"What?" Eraserhead whips to look at the blond and finds the other three crowded around him, peaking over his shoulders. "Let me see." The phone gets places in his waiting hand.
8 hostages 5 villains 1 down 3 guns
Good, Eraserhead smiles into his scarf. He'd gotten them all the critical information and Eraserhead turns to the front, phone firm in his grip. But before he can take the phone to whoever's in charge - good thing he'd brought Bakugo, how had the kid known? - it pings.
I'm Shizu. Two of them are my kids and...
Tanaka, use your quirk on him.
Izuku shouldn't have allowed himself to get distracted.
A sweet scent hits him, curling around his skin and his vision goes blurry for a moment, skin warm and-
Shit.
He's moving before the thought finishes, scent patches torn open, some falling to the floor in his haste as he sloppily slaps five on every visible gland, three on his neck just in case. At first, he'd thought not having his hero costume was a disadvantage. He can't help but be thankful that he doesn't have those thick gloves.
(His fingers are stiff enough as is.)
He's panting by the time he's done, be it from panic and adrenaline and the ringing in his ears or- or-
"We're fucked," someone whispers behind him and Izuku cringes. How long had he stood in a daze before doing that? How far had his heavy scent gone? That sweetness, curling around him was his scent. Pores bleeding those alluring pheromones, a smell he couldn't quite name for himself but had once been described as minty? Minty chocolate, perhaps?
Thankfully, it was still a premature heat so nothing too dangerous and his scent wasn't yet matured to a point of 'seduction,' as the media so often described it.
"We're not," Deku bites back.
So a quirk that could induce heats. Did it do ruts too? How had such a quirk impacted Tanaka's life? It... it couldn't have been easy, not with something so-
Focus!
"Your- Eraserhead responded?"
"He-" Deku flicks his gaze, catching dark clothing and binds of white. "Good."
The world spins for a moment, the ground swaying but he stands his ground, wobbly but a shift of his feet has it balancing out again. Sweat - hot? cold? it's hard to tell - rolls down his temple and his neck and his back.
It's a lot.
(He wants to take everything off. It's too much, too tight and too hot and his clothes itch against his skin.)
Backup, he shakes his head roughly, there's backup. The villains are on the defensive.
The smile he pulls across his lips is practiced, calm, almost. But, most of all, it's convincing.
"Everything's gonna be alright."
"They what?!" Bakugo shrieks, palms popping as he snaps from the building to Eraserhead.
"A quirk one of them has," the pro explains, eyes on the phone screen. He stays monotone, sounding as calm as he looks.
Not as he feels.
An uncomfortable mix of dread and acceptance curls in his gut, gnawing at his insides. It's with practiced ease that he ignores it.
"We gotta get in there." Red Riot steps forward, all false bravado, but there's tension in his shoulders. His lip bleeds as he bites into it sharply, a movement that has Bakugo punching him in the arm seconds later.
"We can't."
"We-"
"We are going to follow protocol." The students bristle at that. Bakugo growls in his throat, but he doesn't comment. Instead, his sharp eyes stay on the building, narrowing as he catches a hint of green hidden among the shelves and aisles.
"Sensei, if they've really jump started his heat..." Froppy lets the sentence die after that, wide eyes flicking to the building, the words pressing against their teeth.
"Do you trust Deku?"
"Of course!" Uravity, oddly silent up to that point, jumps up. When Eraserhead turns to her, there's a proper fire in her gaze. Anxious, yes, but not nervous. Not terrified. Not for Deku, at least.
"We need to do everything we can to help him," he says, but then he turns and meets them dead on, "because this will make or break him and any other omegas who want to become heroes. Right now, he can nip every stereotype against omegas right in the bud." His gaze sharpens.
"Are you going to help him?"
Their feral grins almost make him proud.
Eight... eight hostages. All betas. Deku's vision doubles every now and then, the villains chuckling and just waiting for him to collapse. Three guns, one unknown quirk. He stares at the boss. No... his eyes narrows on smooth skin and water-resistant clothing. Like Ashido's acid? Maybe a mix with Kacchan's. No signs of explosives or something to help with fire. Mucus, perhaps?
It's a good start.
"Ma'am," he whispers back, the edges of his vision consistently blurry. He's fighting back against his instincts.
There was no buildup, no hint of preheat, just a nosedive right into the middle of it. He'd suppressed the whines, the keening for familiar scents, the way his body was shooting pain like bolts of lightening through his torso until he was cramping, abdominal muscles tense in the hopes that it would ease. It does, sort of, creating a false pressure, but it doesn't stop. He- he wants his- his pack (they weren't- they hadn't- it wasn't an official pack but one of circumstance and-) and he needs comfort and- and cookies and-
focus.
He bites his lip until a familiar tang coats it, ferrous at the back of his tongue, a pinch of pain and taste of metal. Not a scent but not too far from it.
He looks back and finds the mother of the two children. The kids are trembling, well secured in her arms, each peaking out with terrified eyes.
She stares up at him, brows pulled down, skin pale with fear and thin arms tense, fingers curled around his phone.
He's glad she doesn't linger on the wetness of his eyes, thankful that she isn't one of the ones staring at him in fear like he's a pitiful lost cause.
She's determined. She has two kids and she's determined.
Good.
"You can- can say no." He twitches, a stab of pain shooting through his abdomen, his lower back starting to ache. "But may I have one of your ch-child's scents?"
He can't help but wince at his own request, stomach twisting in discomfort and emotions he hasn't the time to parse out. It's weird and she must think he's crazy but it- it makes sense. He's done research knowing he'd find himself in this sort of situation. But while heats were always a means to an end - or, well, a proper heat was - they could be stalled, in a sense, by children. A child that reeked of fear? For how loathe he might be to admit it, that was a powerful tool for an omega.
But only if the mother permitted it.
If not, he'd find another way; he'd have to. He has a notebook dedicated to it, page- page ten, it has-
"Yes, of course," she whispers back. A ruffle of fabric later and a scarf is thrown his way.
His body's burning and twitches, the edges of his vision spotty as he shoves the scarf up his nose and ties it around his head.
He... he must look ridiculous. But it works. Like a filter. A mask. The next breath floods him with that bitter, pungent fear. From children.
Trust him.
When he opens his eyes, they're a bright green and his lightening sparks.
One moment, they're outside, waiting for a demand to be made or a gun shot, and then everything explodes.
Black tendrils burst through the glass. It has the officers nearby scrambling away, shouting orders and raising their weapons. Eraserhead flies to the front in one fell swoop, eyes not leaving the familiar quirk. It writhes, acting with a mind of its own as it twists from within the building.
"That's one of ours!" He shouts.
"Move in, move-"
A flicker of green sparks, the energized taste of ozone in the air.
The next bang, a gunshot.
But, as the mass of black writhes, coiling around itself, a strange bulge swells from the small building. It's slow, moving carefully, thoughtfully.
Eraserhead converges on the location by the time it's resting against the ground. And only then, safe and sound, does it unravel, moving more like a mass of eels as it untangles and slips away.
Eight, Eraserhead counts, eight hostages unharmed. Pride swells in his chest as he leaves them to the officers and rushes inside.
It's chaos. All broken hanging lights and yellow sparks raining down, smoke rising more from the back, a tied villain by the counter, a discarded gun a distance away. A wire sparks nearby. The static from the radio, a song Aizawa had never committed to memory, crackles from a broken speaker, the bass and the static and the sparking creating a wall of smoke and sound and twisting violence.
Another gunshot rebounds, the sound ringing as it hits metal in the ceiling, sparks raining down. Goggles down, he advances towards where the violence had been moments prior.
There's a sharp cry in the smoke.
And then silence, a frantic battle cut short.
By the time they've arrived, Deku's sitting there, a rainbow unicorn scarf around his nose and blackwhip holding four villains, guns discarded, no blood.
The officers make quick work of the villains, or, they try to. Once the cuffs are on, Deku doesn't release them. He just stays there, panting heavily, shoulders hunched as black tightens around the villains until they're groaning.
Softly, Eraserhead approaches, dropping down onto his haunches until he's looking into dazed green eyes, dulled and pupils dilated.
"Release them," he says, "we have them. Deku, release them."
He doesn't respond, not verbally, and nothing happens at first. Then, slowly, blackwhip loosens, unraveling until the villains are left unsupported, slumping into the ground, groaning and growling as the officers take them away. Blackwhip crawls back into Deku.
Once it's gone, he doesn't react, just stays staring.
He's panting into the scarf, one eye half-closed in a wince, both pupils blown wide with only a slim ring of bright green. With each breath, the pain in his face only grows, tension hiked in his shoulders as he shudders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Then, he whines, a low, muffled sound in the back of his throat.
"Bakugo."
"Fuck." He doesn't berate the language and Bakugo doesn't need any more prompting before he's racing to the back, far from Deku.
"Froppy, Uravity."
"Yes!"
"Ribbit!" The two betas are at Deku's side, all soothing touches, an ice pack taken from the aisle already on his forehead.
He whines at the contact and crumples, head pushing into the ice pack and keening whenever they pull away.
(Shouta would never admit to just how terrified he'd been at the thought that the man's quirk had jump started a proper heat. There'd be no going back from that, but it seemed the kid was having what was normal. Something easily fixed with, as the kids would say, some 'TLC.')
Bakugo returns with a clamp on his nose, patches on the glands of his throat, and a bag of medication in hand.
"Here." Red Riot snorts at how nasally he sounds, to which Bakugo glares and pulls at the bag in his hands, the paper tearing easily with a long riiiippp.
The pills bottles go flying, orange rolling and pills rattling. A capture scarf snatches them up.
"Pay attention," Eraserhead growls. Uravity snatches the emergency meds - specially labeled with a thick red line that Midoriya had explained to her once - and pops it open.
"Deku, can you hear me?" He whines, eyes unfocused and blinking unevenly, trailing along a shelf and squinting every now and then, trying to latch onto something. He sniffs but all he gets is the scarf.
Fear, pups, scared, danger-
He keens, curling into himself, fingers twisting until they're white-knuckled and red. It's a pitiful sound that has Uravity waving a hand in front of his face. "Deku." He catches the movement and catches the red bottle.
His mind moves slow, groggy, every movement difficult to follow. It'd be frustrating if he was present enough for such a thing. Instead, he just blinks and when he twitches, his arm - uncoordinated and heavy - tries to move the scarf.
Pups, pups-
He whines, eyes squinting, brows creased as scarred fingers don't reach the scarf. He looks around but he can't- he doesn't-
A hand pulls the scarf away and suddenly there's air. It rushes into his lungs. Cool, no longer stale and stuffy, and- and no pups.
He hasn't the time to panic before he realizes that they're there. His pack.
(Not his pack, they're not- they haven't- but they are. They eat his cookies so they are.)
Another movement, all orange and red and blurry.
He chirps at the sight and nudges Uravity's arm with his cheek, uncurling slowly.
She'd coo if they weren't sitting in a crime scene with the press waiting outside, sniffing a story like the vultures they are. He's complacent as she nudges his chin until he opens his mouth, tongue out and she sets - yes, sets - the oval pill on it. Froppy's quick to offer him water.
He's weak but he accepts it, and while he's trembling and some of it spills from the corners of his mouth, he just sloppily wipes it away.
"How long...?"
"Five minutes."
"Three minutes." Eraserhead shoots Bakugo a glance. "It'll work for the nerd in three."
With a nod, Eraserhead returns to the front.
"Then we have to waste three minutes of the presses time. Who wants to go first?"
"We will!" Red Riot shouts, chest puffed out as he pulls Bakugo beside him.
He eyes the two, a veto on the tip of his tongue. But, he reasons, they'll waste plenty of time. With Kirishima's almost puppy-like energy and Bakugo as anti-press as it gets, the press will gobble them up while wanting to spit them out.
"Don't be stupid." They're running out the busted window before Aizawa has the chance to change his mind. With a sigh, he checks in on the kid again.
He still seems to be in pain, hands pressed against his abdomen, all whines but eyes no longer as blurrily unfocused. It was moving quick. Good. With a final few checks and making sure Uravity and Froppy have it handled, he heads out to make sure Bakugo isn't threatening anyone.
Luckily, it isn't much longer before the man of the hour's walking out.
Uravity and Froppy are at his sides but not supporting him. Just there. In case he needs it. The scarf's tight in his fist and while his face is still flushed and eyes a bit dilated, he greets the media with a blinding smile.
And then he talks to them.
He doesn't stay for longer than ten minutes, but considering the fact that he's in the throes of heat, fully, deeply emerged and without a nest or really any form of comfort, it's impressive to say the least. And for how long he talks and nods and politely turns down questions, he almost doesn't seem bothered by it all.
He says everything he needs. He defends omega heroes, calls out the sexist haters, and is guaranteed to be on the front pages the next day.
After all, it wasn't often they had the chance to interrogate an omega hero that had been successful mid heat.
Back at the dorms, by the time he walks in, the emergency medication had run through his system and he was nothing more than a wordless, whining omega. He'd shoved his face into Kirishima's neck, breathing in the scent of his pack mate (much to Bakugo's chagrin but he wasn't complaining, just grumpy.) From experience, they know he's not entirely present, that the world's little more than scents and colors and movement, nauseating without the physical comfort of his friends.
(Or, less from experience and more from classes. As heroes, they needed to know the ins and outs of heats and ruts. Just in case.)
The second they're in the door, the rest of the class has them surrounded and Izuku can do little more than whine as they reach out, caressing him with soothing scents, pulling him from Kirishima's shoulder only for another, Shoji, to pick him up, cuddling him until he's settled in their nest.
It's... it's a messy thing, and they know it is. Items pulled from all their rooms and arranged without Izuku's careful eye. They hadn't really dealt with his heat, not like this. Typically, he'd stick to his nest in his room and would, anxious and embarrassed, ask them for something of theirs. A shirt, a scarf, a blanket.
They thought it was sweet and while they knew it meant something, they wouldn't push, not with Midoriya.
When he's set in the 'nest' - if it could be called that - he melts. A few pillows get shifted sloppily, his limbs too heavy to make it perfect but it's fine. He rolls around, disoriented, a loopy smile on his face as he stuffs his face into a blanket with a scent too thick to not be straight from someones bed. (Aoyama's, but who's keeping track? It's thick with something akin to perfume and something else he can't quite place? Bread, perhaps?)
His heats had never been quite intense, but, then again, he'd never been thrown directly into the middle of it. There wasn't a coherent thought in his mind. It was all instincts and a craving for comfort that his pack - and when had they started thinking of themselves like that? - was more than willing to give. They'd grown fond of Midoriya, after all. For some, it might have started as instincts, but by the end, it was much, much more.
He was more than their omega (an odd thought. He wasn't a thing, but instincts were hard to ignore and avoid and, altogether, they'd decided that such a thing could be dangerous. All instances where people tried to fight their inner selves were too destructive to risk, Todoroki being a prime example.)
But now, rolling around, keening into the assorted fabrics and curling into himself to ease the pain, his thoughts are a jumbled mess of colors and images, no words. (His thoughts are always words, he doesn't do images, so he can't-)
It's all instincts, and all instincts mean the class is suddenly privy to a side Izuku had managed to hide.
The purring. Something deep and chest rumbling, a true compliment, seeing as an omega needed to truly be content and feel safe for such a thing. They freeze when it starts but he's too far gone to care. He just smiles and rolls and purrs, hands reaching until someone cuddles into his side. He shoves his face into their necks, whining and keening until more of them join and he melts, muscles loosening as he turns into a purring puddle at the slightest touch (the first, a poke to his cheek that he leans into until they're forced to cups his cheeks and, when he presses still, it makes him look like a rabbit, tired smile in place as his eyes fluttered closed.)
Every now and then, he winces and curls into himself. Eventually, a warm hand finds its way to his lower back, a personal heater that leaves him purring louder and so pliant (they knew he was an omega but it was so weird seeing him so... vulnerable? He was always so careful with it, to a degree that made them worried, how he'd run away and tried to hide his scent more often than not.) His head gets placed in someone else's lap, their deft fingers making their way through his tangled hair.
It's all comforting touches and he's limp whenever they shift him. An arm, a leg, nonverbal and content.
They ask if they can move him, touch him, always careful about consent even though it's so far from sexual, but they can't help it. It doesn't really work, though, but they'd never covered this with him. They'd never interacted with him in this sort of state so they're left floundering as he reaches for comforting touches, whining and keening and purring when they give in.
The worst was when he'd pitifully tugged at his clothing, whining until they'd realized that he wanted to take them off. They'd looked to each other, to their president and vice, and, after much thought, had decided that it should be fine. They'd seen him bare chested many times, and shorts wasn't an issue, so they help him and Bakguo's the one to grab him a pair of shorts.
Bare-skinned, his scent washes over them, sweet as vanilla and just as enticing, skin glistening with sweat and warm, both from a tan and the flush of heat.
The alphas each have to take their time to leave for fresh air before returning, unable to stay away for long. Just in case.
Their control's impeccable, none of them overly enticed, none of them being thrown into a rut. All of them just there, just in case, sometimes offering comforting pheromones or a growl whenever Izuku's muscles tensed a bit to much.
He was far to complacent but it worked to keep him from hurting himself. To keep him happy, it was fine. Awkward, but not uncomfortable. Just... something to discuss.
Hopefully he wouldn't be upset but they couldn't just abandon him.
It's adorable. And when his eyes open, they're a dark green, pupils blown wide and round cheeks flushed red. Every now and then, a damp rag wipes away the sweat and he clearly loves it, pressing into the rag and whining when it leaves.
They're quick to appease him, to ease the pain - a role Todoroki had been more than willing to fill once they'd realized he was hurting - and they're careful.
(Aizawa excuses them from classes, aware that it's a new situation for all of them, and, leaving them with a few base rules that he knows Iida and Yaoyorozu will hold the class to, he trusts that it will go well.)
He's still dirty from the attack and he needs to get in the bath and properly clean up but they don't force him.
They'd seen him on the news. He looked fine but his breaths were heavy. Every question that was asked, he had to take a moment as if deciding whether or not to answer, or if he even could. By the end, his face was a brighter red and they could see the sweat sticking to his bangs.
He'd done so well, and they - unofficial, temporary pack that they were becoming - were so proud of him.
When he'd walked in, looking worse and acting so far from anything they'd seen, Aizawa knew they'd do everything they could to make him feel comfortable and safe.
"UA Student, Midoriya Izuku, sole Omega of class 2-A, faced perilous situation this past Thursday..."
"Midoriya Izuku, Omega of UA's hero class 2-A was forced into a heat and..."
"-succeeded-"
"-mid-heat, omega hero student Deku took out five armed villains."
"Behind me right now, you can see the pharmacy where Midoriya Izuku, the only omega to ever join a hero course, took out five armed villains while in the middle of a heat and successfully protected eight civilians. This is one of them, Sakamoto Shizu, mother of two children who were with her in the pharmacy. Miss Sakamoto..."
"I think we're really seeing the start of Omegan Heroes don't you agree?"
"But it's too dangerous? Their heats-"
"But he was in his heat."
"Yes, well, still. That doesn't mean they can all do that. It's-"
"Why can't they?"
"There's just no way, is all."
"I disagree. Look, he even answered questions afterwards. You can tell he's still being impacted by that quirk, too. Roll the clip, please."
"Hero Deku! A few questions!"
"Of course!" He shifts, all bright smiles and flushed cheeks, eyes purposefully staying on the reporter and away from the camera.
"They're saying that a quirk induced your heat, and yet you still took out five villains. In fact, I'd say that it's still impacting you, how did you manage it?" He doesn't respond immediately but the reporter waits, patient, microphone pointed the hero's way.
"It's pretty simple, really. If you're asking if I did it without help, then no, I didn't, but I don't think we expect any hero to do everything without help. That's unrealistic. Even All Might needed other people on standby, and Endeavor's sidekicks are always prevalent where he is."
"But it is true that you were the only hero to take out the villains, correct?"
"Th-at is correct."
The clip cuts off at that, the two news people in the room turning back to each other, almost glaring across the table. The male, the one that had been defending Deku up to that point, smirks.
"You'll see here that it's starting to get to him."
"He should have left, it's dangerous for him."
"Clearly it isn't. Nothing happened and he doesn't even seem worried."
"But it could have!"
"Something can always happen, but hero Deku is just that, a hero. A heroes job is to put their life on the line to save others. Are you going to tell me this is a fluke?"
"Of course it is!"
"How can you say that! We all know he was involved in taking out Overhaul - although that's never been quite confirmed, since he's still a student, the recordings of the fight show enough for us to know - and you think he's a fake hero? He beat those villains during his heat!"
"Yeah, but he still needed help!"
"He still did it!"
"I just don't think it's realistic to hold other omegas to that standard."
"Well I think it's unrealistic to say no other omega can do that. Have you- have you listened to anything Deku's said? If he can do it, so can others. There's no reason an omega can't be a hero."
Three days later, Izuku wakes up, groggy and in a tangle of limbs and blankets. He's shirtless and in shorts which- okay, that's odd, and the entire class is there, so that's weird, too, but he-
Jumbled memories of movement and color and-
He groans, a scarred hand coming up to pinch his nose as he flops into a pillow, groaning heavily again.
It's Momo's, his mind helpfully supplies.
"Shiiiittt," the moan's muffled in the pillow and he sits there, ears burning as he realizes what his- his what? His class? That felt too impersonal because they'd clearly taken care of him through that impromptu heat. And they'd- he- he felt great. The best he'd felt in a long, long time. They'd scented him but it was... it was polite. No marks, minimal on his neck, mostly on the glands of his wrist, nothing on his thighs.
(His skin's buzzing in the high of it all.)
All comfort and care without crossing any boundaries.
Well, not any more than necessary.
He... isn't sure how to feel about it all. They- he feels so good. They- they did a good job. He'd have to make it up to them, but how?
And, more than that, what did that mean for them as a group now? They'd never talked about it and he knew that was more because of him than anything. As the only omega, it wasn't really something any of them had much of a right to bring up, not with how much he tried to hide from them secondary-gender wise.
He wasn't hiding, but he, well, he didn't want to force anything onto them. Well, any more than he already had. They were great, they were perfect, but hero students didn't sign up for dealing with an omega and he wanted to be a hero.
It was impractical for all of them.
(It felt so nice. He remembers their gentle touches, their soft, kind words. How they were so careful and respectful, making sure he didn't over heat, easing his pains and- they'd really spoiled him.
How was he supposed to go back to rolling around alone in his own bed after that?)
With a heavy sigh, he pushes himself up. His muscles are minimally sore, more of a nice burn, but his throat's like sandpaper. As if he hadn't had a drop of water in days (he remembers them forcing him to drink, it was more from the dehydration of heat than anything. They probably didn't know just how much he actually needed to drink. Not on them, of course. This wasn't something they'd covered in regard to him.)
When he stands and carefully creeps around the mess of bodies, he looks up and meets familiar red eyes. "Kacchan, what-"
"You're all over the news," he says and passes him a tall glass of water. Izuku grabs it with both hands and practically clacks his teeth against the glass, chugging it until it's flooding his throat with heavy gulps and spilling down his chin in cold streams.
He doesn't stop til it's empty, and when he does it's with a loud gasp. He's heaving, the cold chill of water slipping down his chest. He'd be embarrassed if he didn't feel like a man stranded in a desert.
"How long...?"
"Only three days." Izuku hums at that and looks down at the glass, eyes falling a droplet from the condensation. "You... you did good."
Izuku doesn't respond, just gnaws at his lip.
"Thank you- you all, you didn't-"
"They-" Bakugo pauses and Izuku looks up to see the other's gaze had shifted, adam's apple bobbing. "We wanted to. And they would. Again. You know?" Izuku stops breathing at that, eyes wide and a static filling his fingers.
He's quick to set the cup down.
"You-" his other hand comes up to wipe at the water on his skin. When he feels fabric, he snaps his head, eyes wide when they land on- "Oh shit."
The scarf. It's still in his hand. All rainbows, a predominant yellow around a cartoonish unicorn.
His jaw drops at the sight and he lifts it, slowly bringing it to his nose for a light sniff. The way it soothes an ache in his chest and how he softly whines - something he immediately cuts off, clearly a remnant of his heat and how he'd succumbed to instincts - makes him yank it away, eyes wide and mouth dry. "Shit."
"Yeah, you didn't let us take it from you."
"I gotta-" he spins around and gets two steps towards the door.
"Maybe go take a shower first?" There's a laugh in Bakugo's tone that has heat flushing up his shoulders and burning in his ears. Ducking out of the kitchen, he rushes to his dorm.
We wanted to. And they would. Again. You known.
He isn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
A shower later, he's in the common room and baking. A post-heat bake which, while not uncommon, it's still odd.
They chalk it up to the fact that he didn't get a proper preheat or fussing over them. That is, until he stuffs a container full of snicker doodles and sugar cookies and then he leaves.
He avoids most eye contact, just softly muttering a 'thanks' before ducking out the door.
(When they walk into the kitchen, there's a tower of cookies and brownies and cupcakes, one of each snack per person.)
Izuku had to return the scarf and... and give them cookies, as a thanks. When he gets to the station, he plans to ask Tsukauchi to deliver it for him, confidentiality and all. Instead, the direct address gets shoved his way.
"She wanted you to have it," or so he'd said.
A few blocks later, and surprisingly close to his own home, he's knocking on an unfamiliar door.
He's greeted with a warm smile and two adorable children.
(protect, protect, protect-)
His heart twinges at the sight of them, warm and tight.
Safe, they're safe.
He tries to ignore it as he gives them the cookies, the scarf, and leaves with Shizu's number and the names of two adorable children, Nobume and Sogo Sakamoto.
Lovely names, beautiful names. Perfect names.
He tries to ignore his tug towards them, the need to make sure they're safe and protected (pretend that, when he visits home, he doesn't take the long route by their house. Just in case.) By his next preheat, he's at their door again with a container of cupcakes.
She just laughs, welcomes him inside, and jokes about how he'd 'imprinted on her children like some overprotective mother.'
It leaves him blushing until it feels like steam's bursting from his ears, stuttered apologies slipping from his lips because he can't very well lie. It's just- it's awkward. But she doesn't mind and that eases the heaviness in his heart. And when those kids smile up at him, all bright smiles, homemade pink icing smeared across their cheeks, his heart melts.
(That heat he spends much the same as the last, with his now official pack. It's wonderful and leaves him feeling more fulfilled than the last, with proper boundaries in place and a nest that he'd perfected, their clothing and blankets and pillows interwoven.
They also get a special lecture from Aizawa and Midnight that leaves their ears burning and embarrassment curling in his chest until he just wants to die.)
His next preheat, this time he comes with scones and an apple pie. They're also prepared with gifts that have him sobbing all the way back to UA.
(When he gets back, he's shoving the cutest handmade cards in everyone's faces. Overprotective parent indeed.
That scarf - which they'd gifted to him as well - stays wrapped around his arm the entire week.)