help me / bakudeku omegaverse /

Part 7

The warmth of Katsuki's lips still lingered on Izuku's mouth as they parted, breath mingling in the quiet. The silence was no longer empty—it buzzed with energy, thrumming beneath their skin like an unspoken vow. Something had shifted. Something irreversible. Izuku could feel it in the way his pulse quickened, in the way his body leaned forward instinctively even after the kiss had ended.
His heart fluttered wildly in his chest, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Katsuki looked stunned too, though he tried to hide it behind his usual mask of calm confidence. His fingers lingered near Izuku's cheek, brushing lightly against the skin as if anchoring himself to the moment. But his eyes—they betrayed him. There was something raw in them. Something quietly yearning.
They had kissed.
Not out of obligation.
Not because anyone told them to.
Because they wanted to.
Izuku didn't pull away.
But he didn't dive in either.
His fingers clenched in the thick fabric of the blanket covering his lap, grounding himself. The memories were close—too close. Fingers that weren't gentle. Mouths that took, never gave. Voices that mocked his silence, his softness. That punished him for flinching.
This kiss hadn't been like that.
But still—
Still, the fear pulsed like a quiet drumbeat behind his ribs.
Katsuki seemed to sense the shift. He pulled back slowly, giving space, though his hand hovered just above Izuku's shoulder. Not quite touching. Waiting for permission.
"Izuku," he said, voice low, careful. "It doesn't have to mean anything right now."
Izuku blinked. The words reached him, but he didn't understand them at first.
Katsuki took a breath, eyes never leaving Izuku's. "We don't have to name it. Or act on it. Or decide anything. Not unless you want to."
The tension in Izuku's chest eased. Just a little.
He nodded slowly, mouth dry. "I don't... want to stop. B-but... I can't jump into something. N-not yet. I'm not ready."
Katsuki nodded, eyes soft. "I get it. Really."
A beat.
"Truth is..." He looked away for a moment, then back. "Part of me wants to marry you right now. On the spot."
Izuku's eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping him.
"But," Katsuki continued quickly, raising a hand, "that's my instincts talking. That part of me that just knows. Like something in me recognized you the moment I saw you."
Izuku stared at him, lips parted, breath caught halfway between a sob and a smile.
Because he felt it too.
That something. That pull. Like Katsuki wasn't just safe—he was right. The kind of right that lived in his bones.
But it was terrifying.
And yet...
Izuku didn't want to run from it either.
He didn't want to lose this. Whatever it was.
"So," Katsuki said, voice dropping again, warm and steady, "how about this? We make a deal."
Izuku blinked. "A... deal?"
Katsuki nodded. "Ten dates. Five you plan, five I plan. Real dates. Fun, stupid, soft—whatever we want. We get to know each other. No pressure. And when they're over, we see where we are. Together."
Izuku swallowed. It sounded... perfect. Safe. Hopeful.
"You'd really do that for me?"
"I'd do it for us," Katsuki said.
Izuku hesitated only a second before smiling—small, unsure, but real.
"Okay," he whispered. "Ten dates."
Katsuki held out his pinky, and Izuku stared at it in surprise before his own hand lifted.
Their fingers hooked.
A silent promise.

•••

That night, neither of them slept.Not out of discomfort, but anticipation. They stayed close but not too close. Talked in hushed voices. Shared little pieces of themselves that hadn't seen the light in years.Katsuki told him about the time he set an entire training field on fire.Izuku giggled and shared the time he tried to bake bread and accidentally created something that could dent a helmet.By morning, there was a warmth between them that hadn't been there before. A quiet intimacy that came not from touch, but from trust.They were building something.And they were doing it together.