help me / bakudeku omegaverse /

part 5

Izuku woke slowly, blinking against the filtered light pouring through the high windows. Warmth covered him, not just from the thick blankets wrapped tightly around his small form, but from something else—something heavier, more grounding. Safety. It was foreign. Almost dreamlike.

The room around him was still. The fireplace had burned low, casting soft shadows on the deep red tapestries that lined the stone walls. He hadn't moved since he'd fallen asleep beside Bakugou. And Bakugou, surprisingly, hadn't left.The alpha was seated in a large armchair near the bed, one boot propped on his opposite knee, elbow resting on the armrest. His chin tilted downward, arms crossed, eyes closed. Asleep. Still armored, still tense even in rest. Yet there was something softened about his face.Izuku shifted slightly beneath the covers. The movement was tiny, but Bakugou's eyes cracked open immediately. His gaze sharpened when it found Izuku watching him."You slept like the dead," he muttered, stretching slightly before standing up. "How do you feel?"Izuku blinked. His body still ached in strange ways—as if it had only just remembered it existed. But it no longer hurt to breathe. The weight of hunger no longer gnawed at his ribs."W-warmer," he whispered. "N-not... sick."
Bakugou gave a short nod. "Good."
A silence settled between them. This one wasn't heavy or awkward—just quiet. Mutual. As if neither of them had the energy to fill it with unnecessary words.
Bakugou moved to the side of the bed and handed Izuku a simple linen tunic. "You probably don't want to stay in that ratty thing any longer. One of the maids sent this up last night. Should fit."
Izuku sat up slowly, fingers brushing the worn edge of his old tunic. It smelled like straw and blood and dust. A relic of the life he had barely escaped. He clutched the new one tightly.
"Th-thank you," he murmured.
Bakugou turned his back to give him privacy, crossing the room toward the hearth. "You hungry?"
Izuku's stomach gave a faint, almost timid rumble.
"I-I th-think so."
"Good. There's a tray in the hall. Figured you'd need something simple to start the day."
He disappeared through the door briefly and returned with a wooden tray, carefully setting it on the bedside table. The scent of warm broth and fresh bread wafted through the room. Izuku's eyes widened slightly. It smelled... real.
Bakugou watched as he hesitated, eyes flicking between the food and the alpha.
"Eat," Bakugou said, gentler now. "No one's going to take it away."
Izuku nodded, pulling the tray closer with trembling fingers. He took one bite, then another, chewing slowly. Like he was afraid he might choke on comfort itself.
Bakugou sat back down, arms crossed again. He didn't press. Just watched. Guarded.
After several minutes, Izuku set the spoon down. He hadn't eaten much, but it was more than nothing.
He looked up. "C-can I a-ask... something?"
Bakugou nodded. "Shoot."
"W-why are y-you helping me?"
The question lingered between them like smoke. Bakugou didn't answer right away. He glanced toward the fireplace, jaw ticking.
"Because you shouldn't have needed saving in the first place," he said finally. "And because you're here now. In my territory. That makes you my responsibility."
Izuku looked down, fingers twisting in his sleeves.
"But... I'm n-nothing important..."
"Bullshit," Bakugou snapped, then softened his tone when Izuku flinched. "You survived. For years. In a place no one should. That's not nothing."
Izuku blinked rapidly. His eyes were glassy, but he nodded.
Bakugou leaned forward slightly. "If you want to earn your place here, fine. But don't start by pretending you're worthless."
The words landed somewhere deep. Izuku didn't reply, but his posture shifted—shoulders lifting just a fraction.
A knock at the door interrupted them. Bakugou rose and opened it to find Kirishima on the other side, brows furrowed.
"Sorry to bother you," the redhead said. "Sir Iida's requesting your presence in the war room. It's urgent."
Bakugou muttered a curse under his breath. "Of course it is."
He turned to glance back at Izuku. The boy looked smaller again, like he might disappear without the weight of Bakugou's gaze anchoring him.
"Stay here," Bakugou ordered gently. "Don't open the door unless it's me or this guy."
Izuku nodded silently.
As Bakugou stepped out, Kirishima gave Izuku a small smile and a wave. Then the door shut.
Time passed slowly. Izuku sat curled in the massive bed, unsure what to do with himself. There were books on the shelves, soft pillows, a window with warm light. It should have felt safe.
But safety was unfamiliar.
He tried to occupy himself by cleaning the tray, folding the blanket, smoothing out the bedding. Then he curled into the corner, arms wrapped around his knees.
The door creaked after what felt like hours, and Izuku tensed—but relaxed when he saw Bakugou step through.
His face looked more drawn, more tired.
"Everything okay?" Izuku asked, barely above a whisper.
Bakugou gave a vague grunt. "Politics. War talk. The usual."
He crossed the room, shedding his heavy cloak and gloves, then sat on the bed with a long sigh. His shoulder brushed Izuku's slightly.
"You alright?"
Izuku hesitated. "J-just... b-bored."
Bakugou raised a brow. "Bored, huh? Didn't think you'd get bored so quick."
Izuku looked sheepish. "N-nothing to do but th-think."
That made Bakugou pause. He looked at Izuku carefully, the flickering firelight casting a soft glow across the boy's face. He looked so young like this. Fragile, but holding himself together with everything he had.
"Want to see the library?" Bakugou asked.
Izuku blinked. "M-me? I-I can?"
"Why not? It's just down the corridor."
The omega hesitated, then nodded. Slowly, they stood together, and Bakugou led him out into the hall.
The walk was short, quiet. The palace at this hour was calm, only the occasional servant or guard passing with silent nods.
The library doors opened with a low creak. Inside, the air smelled of parchment and old wood. Shelves rose high above their heads, lined with tomes, maps, journals.
Izuku took one step in and stopped, eyes wide.
"W-wow..."
Bakugou chuckled. "Take your time. Just don't knock anything over."
Izuku wandered slowly between the shelves, fingertips grazing the spines. It was like a temple, silent and sacred. A place that promised knowledge without cruelty.
Bakugou leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching him with something like amusement. Something softer.
Eventually, Izuku returned with a slim volume, clutching it like treasure.
"C-can I read this... in your room?"
"Sure."
They returned to the room. Izuku curled up in the chair this time, legs tucked beneath him, book in lap. Bakugou busied himself by removing his armor, tugging off leather and steel until he was left in a simple linen shirt and dark trousers.
The room was quieter than before. Peaceful.
"W-what's it like... b-being a p-prince?" Izuku asked, glancing up.
Bakugou snorted. "Overrated."
Izuku giggled—a sound so soft and rare Bakugou froze for a second.
"No, really," Bakugou continued, smirking now. "Too many rules. Everyone bows. No one says what they mean. I have to attend meetings where old men argue about stupid crap."
Izuku smiled, hugging the book to his chest. "Y-you don't sound very royal."
"Good. I hate being royal."
A knock at the door drew their attention. Bakugou rose and cracked it open to find a maid delivering nightclothes and extra blankets. He thanked her briefly and shut the door again.
He handed the soft linen bundle to Izuku.
"Here. These should be more comfortable."
Izuku held them to his chest, eyes wide with quiet gratitude. He stood and disappeared into the side room to change.
When he returned, the clothes hung a little loose, but he looked more at ease. He returned to the bed and paused.
"C-can I still... sleep here?"
Bakugou blinked. "You think I'd kick you out after one night?"
Izuku shook his head quickly. "N-no! I just... I d-didn't want to assume."
"Assume it," Bakugou said, pulling back the covers. "You're safer here."
Izuku crawled under the blankets slowly, nestling into the warmth.
Bakugou climbed in beside him, settling into the familiar weight of shared silence.
Just before the fire died low, Izuku whispered, "K-Katsuki?"
"Yeah?"
"T-thank you."
Katsuki turned his head slightly to look at him. The boy's eyes were closed, but there was peace in his face now. A kind of fragile hope beginning to take root.
He reached out and gently brushed a stray curl from Izuku's forehead.
"You're welcome."