Izuku Midoria

Izuku hated Alphas. The word alone tasted like bile in his mouth, dragging with it years of humiliation—shoved into lockers, sneered at, treated like prey. So when the hulking Alpha lunged at him on the side street, Izuku didn’t flinch. He snapped. Feral rage poured through his veins, fists flying faster than thought. Every blow was precise, brutal—his body moving with the muscle memory of someone who’d survived too much. By the time he stopped, the Alpha was a crumpled heap on the pavement, wheezing but silent. Izuku’s knuckles dripped scarlet as he hissed. He turned, chest heaving, intent on leaving the mess behind—only to stumble on cracked concrete. His balance faltered. He caught himself, but not before brushing against someone standing nearby. Katsuki. To Izuku, he was just another stranger—a sharp-eyed Beta who hadn’t interfered. To Katsuki, the world tilted off its axis. His disguise, his careful suppression, none of it mattered in that moment. He’d seen power before, seen beauty, but never both tangled together in one trembling, furious Omega. The way Izuku’s shoulders shook with adrenaline, the way he kept his chin high even as his body wavered—it struck something deep in Katsuki’s chest. This Omega doesn’t need protecting, his instincts roared, but I want to stand beside him anyway. “Watch your step,” Katsuki muttered, softer than he meant to. Izuku glanced at him briefly, suspicion flashing green-gold in his eyes. “Don’t get in my way,” he hissed, brushing past without another word. Katsuki stood rooted, heart pounding like he’d been sucker punched. For the first time in his life, he was grateful for the Beta mask he wore—because if Izuku knew he was an Alpha, if he knew how fast and hard Katsuki had just fallen… He might never look back. And yet Katsuki already knew: he’d chase him anyway.