help me / bakudeku omegaverse /

Part 8

When Katsuki said he wanted to show Izuku something, the omega didn't expect to be led down the quieter, east-facing corridor of the castle—the one reserved for personal quarters. It was quiet, the only sound their footsteps on the polished stone floors and the occasional crackle of torches in their brackets.

Izuku stayed close to Katsuki's side, his smaller form half-hidden in the folds of his oversized cloak. He walked with caution, his body still aching in places trauma liked to linger, but it was his mind that trembled more.They stopped before a carved wooden door, tall and simple, with subtle patterns of fire etched into its trim. Katsuki opened it easily and gestured him inside."This," katsuki started, "is your room."Izuku stepped in—and froze.The room was almost three times the size of the one he'd been forced to share back in the trade ring. There, the walls pressed in on all sides. Seven other omega females shared the space with him, their cots squeezed side-by-side, breaths and bodies overlapping in the stifling dark. Here, however, the air felt open. The room was lit by natural light spilling in through tall windows, the walls were lined with soft tapestries, and a modest fireplace sat in one corner.There was a bed—not a cot, not a mat on the floor, but a bed with a thick mattress and blankets that looked impossibly soft. A desk stood in the corner, shelves carved into the walls, and a small seating area by the window.Izuku stepped in fully, blinking in disbelief.
"This is... too much," he whispered.
Katsuki raised a brow from where he stood near the door. "Too much?"
Izuku turned to him, brows drawn, voice hesitant. "F-for just one person? It's too much space. I don't... I don't need all this."
Katsuki looked genuinely confused for a second. Then it hit him.
"This is the standard size for a personal room in the palace," he explained gently. "It's not special. It's just... yours. People here like to have room to breathe."
Izuku didn't know what to say. His hands twisted in his cloak. For a moment, it looked like he might shrink into himself.
"Hey," Katsuki said, walking over and placing a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "I get it. It's different. But this space? It's yours. No one's going to share it. No one's going to take it from you. You're safe here."
Izuku looked up, eyes wide and glassy. He nodded slowly.
"There will be guards posted nearby," Katsuki added. "Not because you're a prisoner—you're not. But because you're the last male omega anyone's seen in generations. That puts a target on your back. The guards are just a precaution."
The color drained slightly from Izuku's face.
"Hey," Katsuki said again, squeezing his shoulder. "They're here to protect you. Not to trap you. Got it?"
Izuku swallowed hard and nodded again, though the tension didn't fully leave his shoulders.
Katsuki stayed with him for a little while, showing him the simple latch on the door, the small bell near the bed to call a maid if needed, the hot water system that fed the nearby bath. Izuku listened, quietly absorbing everything with the wide-eyed focus of someone who couldn't yet believe any of it was real.
Eventually, Katsuki sighed and ruffled his hair.
"I gotta go handle a council session," he muttered. "Boring nobles. Try to get some rest. I'll come by later."
Izuku nodded and sat on the edge of the bed after Katsuki left, the door closing gently behind him. He stared around the room.
He stayed there the entire day.
He didn't leave. Not even once.
It wasn't that he didn't want to. It was that he didn't know if he could. In the trade ring, moving without explicit permission often led to punishment. Even if no one said the rules aloud, they were enforced with fists and belts. Izuku remembered all too well the bruises that came from assumptions.
So he stayed.
When Katsuki returned that evening, he found Izuku sitting in the exact same place on the bed. The untouched desk. The chair by the window unused.
"You didn't move all day," Katsuki noted, placing a covered tray on the table. "Didn't even peek out the door."
Izuku shrank slightly. "W-was I not supposed to?"
Katsuki frowned. "No, that's not what I meant. You can. You just... didn't want to?"
Izuku looked away, hugging his knees slightly. He didn't answer.
Katsuki let it drop.
That night, they shared a quiet meal on the bed, sitting side by side while Katsuki grumbled about his day—the council arguing over the grain tax, an ambassador who wouldn't stop talking, and a noblewoman who mistook his silence for an invitation.
Izuku listened to it all, nodding and humming at the right places, a small smile on his face.
Afterward, Katsuki hugged him, long and tight, before ruffling his hair again and heading to his own quarters for the night.
The next few days passed in much the same way.
Mornings were quiet. Izuku sat on the bed, sometimes daring to move to the desk, but never leaving the room. Even the guards outside seemed puzzled by the lack of movement.
Evenings were warm. Katsuki came by without fail, bringing food and venting about politics and training and noble dramas. Izuku listened with full-hearted attentiveness.
Then, one afternoon, while Katsuki was in the training yard, his right-hand man, Kirishima, approached him during a water break.
"Hey, bro," Kiri said, frowning a little. "Not to overstep, but... some of your guards are stationed by that eastern guest room. The one near the herb courtyard."
Katsuki tilted his head. "Yeah. That's Izuku's room."
Kirishima blinked. "Oh. That makes sense. It's just... no one ever leaves. Like, ever. Some of the new guards thought it was an empty room."
Katsuki straightened slowly, jaw tightening.
That night, when he entered Izuku's room, the omega was perched on the windowsill seat, staring at the moonlight. His face lit up when he saw Katsuki.
"Katsuki," he said softly, standing.
The alpha crossed the room and crouched slightly, resting his hands on Izuku's arms.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
Izuku nodded.
"Why haven't you left this room at all? Not once?"
Izuku immediately tensed. "I-I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? I-I didn't mean to upset you—"
"No," Katsuki said firmly. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just... want to know why. You can leave, you know. You're not stuck here."
Izuku looked down, fists clenched. "B-but the guards, and... I didn't want to assume. Last time I did, I got punished. I thought... I thought maybe I would get in trouble."
Katsuki felt something sharp twist in his chest. He exhaled slowly.
"Izuku," he said gently. "This isn't a cell. You don't need permission to go for a walk. You don't have to ask to breathe. This room is yours. And you're free. Yeah, there are guards, but they're there to protect you. Not trap you. Got it?"
Izuku blinked rapidly, then covered his mouth with both hands.
Tears spilled over his cheeks.
He cried, hard and trembling, but there was something different about it. A soft, almost overwhelmed smile pulled at his lips even as the tears fell.
"I-I can go outside? whenever I want?" he whispered. "I-I'm really allowed?"
"Yeah," Katsuki murmured, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You're allowed."
Izuku sobbed into his chest for a while, until the tears slowed, replaced with shaky breaths.
Then, softly, he looked up. "C-can I come with you? During the day? I... I h-hate being alone..."
Katsuki smiled and rested his forehead against Izuku's.
"I'd love that," he whispered.
And in that moment, something unspoken passed between them—a quiet understanding. A shared promise that from now on, Izuku didn't have to face the daylight alone.