Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hybrids had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. Before your mum had passed away, she’d been both a vocal advocate for hybrids’ rights and a serial foster carer. Usually, they’d been fully grown adults, part of the generation which had suddenly started having life spans more akin to a human’s than an animal’s, taking their owners by complete surprise and being given up on mass. Your mum had worked tirelessly for their benefit, even as the cancer ate away at her, and you’d continued her work.

You specialised in “difficult” cases. That meant everything from hybrids with expensive medical conditions, to hybrids with trauma, to the ones with “behavioural” issues. You fostered a myriad of species and, with your extensive experience, had written more than one book on the subject. To call you an expert might have been an exaggeration in your view but both local and national shelters had your number for emergencies.

It was why, six months ago, you’d gotten a call in the early morning about a giant lop hybrid who was refusing to eat. None of the standard advice was helping and the hybrid had already been dangerously underweight when he entered the shelter. He had suffered mental and emotional abuse in his previous home, developing anorexia as a result; being ripped from the only people he considered family, he’d abandoned food all together, punishing himself for his perceived failure to please his owners. It wasn’t a situation that could be left alone.

The shelter itself was local, so you’d popped your head in that morning to see if there was anything you could glean from a face-to-face interaction. The giant lop had been curled in on himself in his humanoid form, too malnourished and tired to even shake despite his obvious fear. His ears were limp, eyes empty, and his coat like straw, looking for all the world like he’d already passed. Your heart, usually steady in the face of what humanity could do to its closest cousin, had wrenched painfully at the sight.

After phoning home so that your family knew not to worry, you sat by his room, in view and scenting distance, for hours. You managed to get him to talk and drink some sugar-water on the first day but it wasn’t until the next that you coaxed him into having some lettuce. Thrilled to see some progress, no matter how small, the shelter had begged you to take the giant lop. Despite his apparent lack of will to live, the hybrid himself had expressed some small interest in going home with you. So, before you really knew what was happening, you found yourself taking the emaciated young man as an emergency foster. It was just luck that you didn’t have any other hybrids being fostered already and could give him the attention he needed.

It was hard to reconcile that dire first impression with his current condition. His head was lying on your lap, fully relaxed, watching a new comedy show on TV as you gently played with his shiny dark green curls. Carefully avoiding his sensitive but oh-so-soft ears, you smiled down at him in fondness.

Filled out his frame’s the potential, which his previous owner had tried to repress, Midoriya Izuku was now broad shouldered with a trim waist and slightly chubby cheeks, lending him a boyishness despite only being a year younger than you. While his issues with food were hardly solved, he was at his expected weight and had joined some of your other hybrids in hitting the gym. You were keeping a close eye on his routine — last thing Izuku needed was swapping an obsession with weight loss for weight gain — but so far he’d been taking the others’ advice and was starting slow.

To say you were proud of his progress was an understatement. However, the stabilisation of Izuku’s condition meant the shelter had been pressing you for a decision.

You let your hand drift from his hair and placed in on his shoulder instead.

“Izuku-kun,” you said softly. “I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

He turned his head in your lap, shifting onto his back so he could stare up at you with his big green eyes. In the dimmed light of your room, it cast shadows which gave light to the more angled features Izuku would have in just a year or so’s time. You could only just make out the spray of freckles across his cheeks, like a constellation of faint stars, and found yourself trying to count them.

Your heart skipped a beat when Izuku reached up to brush his fingertips against your cheek; a small reminder that you’d been talking to him. You flushed in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into your inattention.

Hybrids were, at a minimum, good looking due to the selection of genes used when they were initially made. But Izuku was definitely up there, in your opinion. Adding the trust in his gaze when he looked at you was almost fatal to your heart; no wonder you’d been basically in love with the hybrid since you took him home.

Not that you’d ever confess to your feelings.

“Sorry, got distracted for a second,” you said sheepishly. “I just wanted to tell you how proud I am about all your progress.”

Despite his innocence, Izuku could be very perceptive and his eyes glinted with suspicion at your tone.

“But…” he prompted.

You shook your head. “No buts. You’ve done me proud and the shelter was asking if I thought you could be put up for adoption yet. I wanted to discuss the options with you before getting back to them.”

Izuku tensed, his hand hovering beside your cheek closing into a loose fist. Knowing his life hadn’t been easy and he’d be jumping to the wrong conclusion, you hurried on. The betrayal gathering in his eyes tore you apart.

“It’s entirely up to you,” you reassured him, “And you don’t have to make a decision tonight. I’ve just got a few ideas, will you hear me out?”

He nodded slowly, caution radiating from him.

“The first option is that we move from an emergency foster situation to a normal one,” you said. “From your point of view, nothing would change but it’d be harder for you to get adopted if you wanted someone else.”

Izuku sat up with such speed you weren’t sure how he’d managed to avoid headbutting you. Before you could register what was going on, he was kneeling on the sofa beside you and gripped your sleeve, his big eyes becoming more watery by the second.

“Do… do you want me to go?” he asked.

You gathered up his hands and held them tight. Izuku squeezed them back.

“No, of course not,” you said, “Having you here has been wonderful. I just don’t want you to think you have to stay here if you didn’t want to. Option number two is permanent adoption but I didn’t want to pressure you.”

Tears continued to gather in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. Eventually rolling down his cheeks.

“I want to,” he said, “I really want to stay.”

He gathered you up in a hug, head buried in the crook of your neck. You patted his back, making soothing noises as you felt your shirt’s shoulder getting increasingly damp. You smiled lop-sidedly, caught between gratitude that Izuku wanted to remain with you and wry amusement at his happy-crying.

When Izuku had stopped crying, he sat beside you again, eyes still a little red from his outburst.

“If that’s what you want, I couldn’t be happier,” you told him, “But I’m sure you know, staying here isn’t for everyone. You’ll be my fifth adopted hybrid and I’ll have various fosters while you’re here. I always try to divvy up my time equally but there might be times where you feel like I’m not giving you enough attention.”

It was one your biggest fears, leaving one of your hybrids feeling neglected, and the more you took in the higher the chances got. While the presence of other hybrids in the household could provide a friend, it could also provide a rival for an owner’s attention. So bringing in multiple hybrids was a balancing act, even when they slotted into your life like they were meant to be there, like Izuku.

Hybrids weren’t pets, or even like adopted kids, they were more like an emperor’s concubines. Dependent on their owner, despite recent improvements in their rights, the power imbalance between humans and hybrids often left them desperate for their owner’s approval. Often regardless of the hybrid’s personal feelings towards them.

As much as you treated hybrids as equals, the trust that you wouldn’t simply abandon them took years, if it formed at all. It always hurt, a little, but you’d largely come to terms with the fact that the reaction wasn’t about you. Getting butt-hurt about it was only doing yourself and the hybrids a disservice.

“Do you remember Emiko-san?” you asked.

Izuku nodded. You’d introduced your older friend about a month ago and the pair had seemed to hit it off.

“If you wanted, we could see about you staying with her for a day,” you offered. “She’s also looking for a hybrid to adopt and she’d love to have you over. Emiko-san doesn’t have any other hybrids, so you’d get much more one-on-one time with her.”

The pair of floppy green ears slotted back, close to his head at the suggestion. His gaze becoming determined and impassioned.

“I want to stay with you, Nami-san,” he said. “You’ve been so kind since I’ve arrived. Not just to me but to all your hybrids. You treat us like we’re actual members of your family, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Emiko-san is nice but I only want Nami-san.”

Your cheeks warmed at the speech and you suddenly found yourself unable to meet Izuku’s gaze. Really, his face was the problem. If he’d been human, you’d have taken those words as a confession and it left you flustered.

“You really are way too adorable,” you said on a sigh, “But I’m very happy you’re staying. I’ll call the shelter tomorrow to let them know the situation.”

You’d barely finished the sentence before you were enveloped in a warm hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Izuku repeated in your ear. “I promise I’ll be the best hybrid ever.”

You huffed. “You don’t have to do that. Even if you were the worst, so long as you want to be here, this’ll be your home.”

Izuku barely seemed to hear you, thank you over and over again. You had to say enough, eventually, and settled down to watch the comedy which had been playing in the background all this time. Though both of you wore smiles that had nothing to do with the TV.

Chapter Text

You got up a little earlier than usual the next morning, humming to yourself as you went down to the kitchens to talk to the chefs. You wanted to arrange a small celebration for Izuku’s adoption, including a special meal.

Once upon a time, you used to cook all of your hybrids’ meals yourself. It had been something you enjoyed immensely, providing them a meal made with love. With one or two hybrids in the house, that was easy enough. However, when you’d gotten three adoptees with different dietary requirements, plus whichever foster hybrid you currently had, you were forced to admit that you couldn’t cope on your own.

Now, you employed two chefs, five days a week, and could only justify cooking individual meals when one of your family was sick. There were big group meals on weekends, where you took turns cooking with your hybrids so you could teach them how to make food. Some took to it more than others but you’d be damned if any of them would starve if you weren’t there for a few days. As an advocate for hybrids’ rights, you were invested in making sure your hybrids were prepared for the day where they were considered independent adults.

You were halfway through the conversation with your chefs when your phone started ringing. Seeing the local shelter’s number, you excused yourself and picked it up immediately.

“Date Nami speaking,” you said.

“Nami-chan,” came a familiar voice, “Do you have a minute?”

“Yaomomo?” you asked. “Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”

Yaoyorozu Momo — Yaomomo to her friends — was the head of the local shelter. You’d met her at a young age, as your mothers had run in the same social circles, and had bonded over your shared love of hybrids. It was rare for Yaomomo to contact you via the shelter, as you normally liaised with the staff members who dealt with specifically with fostering, so to not get a call from her mobile had you on alert.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Yaomomo said, “But I’m afraid I need a favour, a rather big one.”

You frowned. Yaomomo loathed owing favours — not because she begrudged it but because she was so generous that not paying someone back immediately was against her very nature — so you couldn’t imagine what would require her to beg for one.

“You know I’ll do anything I can to help,” you said. “You’re my friend.”

One of the only human ones, as well. You’d perhaps spent too much time around hybrids growing up, so you often found it difficult to read the unspoken nuances and the body-language of other humans. Unlike many you’d grown up with, Yaomomo was a bit like hybrids in that her true intentions were easy to read. She wasn’t actively dishonest or anything but she had a hard time admitting how excited she was to try “commoner” activities when you hung out. It was always endearing.

“I’m afraid this might be stretching things,” Yaomomo said on a sigh. “About two weeks ago, we took in two hybrids who’d been viciously abused, to the point where one of them had attacked and killed their owner.”

You eyebrows shot up. So-called “human-killers” were the source of much anti-hybrid sentiment, even when there were mitigating circumstances. In the bad old days, it was an automatic death sentence but your mother, among others, had fought to make exceptions. However, even now, the hybrid would virtually have to be on death’s door to avoid being put down like an animal.

Rehoming human-killers was almost impossible. Very few people — including those in the hybrid advocate circles — were willing to take on a hybrid with that sort of track record. You were prepared and had done so twice but with wildly different outcomes. However, just two weeks wasn’t enough for those sort of injuries to recover enough to even suggest fostering. So you didn’t understand why Yaomomo was making this call on an official basis.

“Are they not healing?” you asked. “Do you need me to send extra funds?”

You were in a very lucky position. Various trusts and the inheritance left by your mother meant you’d never have to work another day in your life, even though you were actively trying to give away every last yen. You supported a lot of charities, of many varieties — children, homeless, international aid, cancer research, to name just a few — but your biggest expenditure was on the various shelters up and down the country. Along with regular deposits and gifts set up in your will, you had also been known to bail shelters out in an emergency. Yaomomo ran a tight ship and had never needed to ask for that sort of help, but there was a first time for everything, right?

“We’re fine for funds,” she said, “Even though the liger keeps overgrooming his stitches and causing infections, we’re mostly on top of it. The hyena is healing just fine but he had a lot of historic injuries; old burns which don’t look like they were ever treated. The pair of them were barely holding on when we brought them in.”

“Awful,” you murmured. “So, how can I help?”

Silently, you were glad their owner was dead. You weren’t one for violence but you believed there was a special place in hell for people who abused hybrids, children, or animals. Still, it put the surviving hybrids in a poor position.

“We’ve gotten word from the police that they’re going to push for a destruction order.”

“What?” you asked, going rigid. “But you said they were badly hurt.”

“They were,” Yaomomo sighed, “It was the hyena who killed their owner and it’s almost like they’re taking his recovery to mean that he wasn’t that badly injured in the first place. I tried pressing them about the burns but apparently there’s evidence that those pre-date the owner who was killed.”

Your frown only increased.

“But that still means there’s a history of abuse,” you said, “It’s not as if that gets wiped clean just because he was sold to someone else. If anything, an owner who overlooks past abuse is more likely to compound the trauma. Did we know the owner? Was he on our radar?”

“He’s not anyone on our circles,” Yaomomo confirmed, “The name didn’t ring a bell, either. Kurogiri, written with the kanji black and fog.”

You paused.

“I feel like I’ve heard of him somewhere,” you admitted, feeling a tingle of familiarity. “But I can’t place it.”

“Someone your parents dealt with?”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Something to keep in mind. In the meantime, I was hoping you would agree to fostering the pair? We obviously have to get past the destruction order first, but…”

You sighed. Part of you was reluctant, you hadn’t even finalised Izuku’s adoption but you also couldn’t find it in your heart to deny the two abused hybrids. To avoid the hyena getting killed, there had to be a reasonable chance that he could be re-homed. Shelters couldn’t afford to keep hybrids indefinitely and the courts took a dim view of hybrids who were stuck without a potential home. You were the best, maybe only, chance for him.

“Could the liger be re-homed?” you asked. “Separately?”

Most hybrid types had their fans, and a liger was so rare that people would be tripping over themselves to adopt him. Even if he had some lingering health issues, so long as he didn’t follow in the hyena’s footsteps, he could have his pick of owners.

“Um, potentially, in the long term,” Yaomomo hedged, “At the moment we’ve had to house them in the same room; the liger is pretty dependent on the hyena. I couldn’t tell you how much of that is an actual bond and how much is trauma-related. They certainly don’t seem to like each other.”

You held back a groan. The situation kept getting worse and worse. Just last night, you’d been worrying about splitting your attention between five hybrids. It seemed you’d been tempting fate.

“I’ll come take a look but I’m not promising anything,” you said, a half-truth at best, “But I’ll also see if Monoma-san and Kendou-san have room on their books for some philanthropy.”

You could hear Yaomomo’s sigh of relief. Monoma Neito was a slippery son of a bitch that no one in their right mind would trust further than they could throw him. However, he was also a damn good lawyer and desperately in love with his close colleague, Kendou Itsuka. If you could get her on your side — and she had a proven soft spot for hybrids — Monoma would be a safe bet. You’d still have to pay his extortionate fees though; not even Kendou’s influence could budge the man’s near-allergic response to the term pro bono.

“Thank you,” Yaomomo said, “I’d appreciate it. When do you think you’ll be able to pop in for a visit?”

“I was planning on coming in tomorrow anyway,” you said, “I wanted to finalise Izuku’s adoption. He’s agreed to stay.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you!”

You flushed a little, thinking of the happy moment which had started you off in such a good mood thing morning. Yaomomo was one of the few people — other than your mother — who knew just how much your hybrids meant to you. She’d also been the one to caution you about your growing feelings for them. Her approval, in lieu of your mother’s, meant a lot. The sincere congratulations made you feel a little less guilty over keeping Izuku to yourself.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’m snowed in with paperwork but I’ll definitely make time to show you the two hybrids. I’ll also email you some relevant details, just… brace yourself before you look at any of the photos.”

The thought had you swallowing hard, so you said your goodbyes before you could take back the offer to look. Good thing it was Eijirou’s night, it seemed like you’d need the support.

Chapter Text

Technically Izuku didn’t need to be there for the signing of the official paperwork, since he was already living with you. Although any shelter worth its name wouldn’t have let the adoption go through without a hybrid’s consent, there wasn’t anywhere for them to sign on the document. From a legal standpoint, a hybrid didn’t have a say, which you hated, but you had learned to pick your fights.

Not only Izuku but your four other hybrids also came. The group — minus one notable exception — congratulated the giant lop on his official adoption before splitting up. Izuku was pulled along with them, going with Eijirou to play with the youngest hybrids. Shouto went to sit with a nervous wolf hybrid, Hitoshi visited old friends in the reptile area, and Katsuki was asked to blow off some steam with an over-active monkey hybrid. You sent them off with a smile and a wave, before being redirected to Yaomomo’s office.

She greeted you with a strained smile.

“Did you get a chance to look at the files?” she asked.

She got up from behind her desk which, from the look of it, was currently holding about half of the shelter’s files. It’d been made into a fortress and only the model-like Yaomomo would have been capable of seeing over the top once seated.

“I did,” you replied, “I’ve done some uncomfortable reading in my time, but I think that takes the cake.”

Yaomomo gave a sympathetic smile.

The photos you’d been given, alongside their medical files, were post-op shots rather than the ones taken for evidence in their cases. The hyena and liger hybrids had been more bandages than skin, both forced to retreat to their animal forms to save their lives. The photos you had access to were bad enough and yet you kept finding yourself trying to imagine what they’d looked like freshly rescued. Like a questing tongue subconsciously feeling out a split lip, your mind just couldn’t leave the thought alone.

“I’m just glad I’m not Kendou-san or Monoma-san,” you added.

As lawyers representing the hybrids’ interests, they would see all of the evidence against Kurogiri. Given they had been rescued after a tip-off to the Hybrid Protection Service and a subsequent raid, there was video to go through as well as the photographic proof of abuse. When you’d gotten confirmation from Monoma that they’d gotten everything in, his voice was tight with restrained emotion. Given you were expecting a call from Kendou, you guessed they’d already had a peek at the contents of the files.

“Thank you for contacting them,” Yaomomo said, “Monoma-san said he thought they had enough to work with. He agreed the destruction order was likely a knee-jerk reaction.”

Together you walked to the isolation ward of the shelter. It was where most hybrids were kept during their first month, just to make sure they weren’t carrying anything contagious. It was also where the more “dangerous” hybrids were held, the ones who couldn’t be immediately re-homed due to misplaced or deserved anger issues. There was usually a small section in the shelters you dealt with, and you’d unfortunately had occasion to visit most of them.

Unlike the rest of the shelter, which was filled with chatter and laughter, the ward was ominously quiet. If the two hybrids you were visiting had been talking, they’d stopped as soon as you’d entered. There was currently no one else — neither hybrid nor staff — to make any noise and it felt stifling. You were grateful when you finally reached the hybrids’ room but that was short lived.

Yaomomo’s shelter didn’t have the strict open-door policy that many resorted to, though they did emphasise their preference to the hybrids in their care. In the isolation ward, however, the rooms had two doors: the first, on the inside, a sheet of thick tempered glass which was similar to those found in zoo enclosures; the second was more akin to a prison door with a peep slot near eye-level. Both of them had letterbox type openings at waist height for putting through food and neither of them could be locked or opened from the inside. Most of the time, the second door was open, only being closed at night to afford some sense of privacy. That sense was thin, at best.

Through the glass, you could see both of the hybrids. They’d pulled the mattress from the bed and onto the floor, squishing it as far from the door as possible. Both were currently sitting on top of it.

Shigaraki Tomura — the liger — watched you with piercing red eyes. A low hiss echoed around the room, full of violence despite being laid low by his injuries. They were as extensive as you’d feared: the bandage around his neck had been ripped off, revealing the raw skin underneath caused by scratching himself due to high anxiety; he was also practically skin and bones; his fur — pale blue fading to white with scruffy stripes — was dull; his lips were cracked and bleeding; and his front paws were red from over-grooming. Along his side, almost hidden by his natural stripes, were a litany of whip-marks, also raw from constant licking.

The hyena — Dabi, no last name — was at least in his human form. His face, half covered in purple scars, was set in a sneer. A few bandages were poking out from the collar of his grey long-sleeved shirt, as well as around one of his hands. There was still a tightness around his turquoise eyes which spoke of pain — no surprise, as they’d both been stubbornly resistant to taking painkillers — but otherwise, he seemed to be healing nicely. Sat with his back against the wall, one leg bent to support a hand, Dabi was aiming for nonchalant. Managing to stay relaxed, he was close to pulling it off, if not for the fact his whole body was arranged as a barrier between you and Shigaraki.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Yaomomo greeted them, “This is the lady I was talking about, Date Nami-san. She’s here as a prospective fosterer.”

Despite the absolutely heart-breaking view in front of you, you managed to style yourself as being reassuringly casual. You sat down crossed-legged right in front of the glass, giving them a smile and a small wave. It was met with silence.

“Hi, guys,” you said, “You don’t have to be formal, just call me whatever feels comfortable.”

There was a pause where you wondered if they wouldn’t deign to speak to you at all. It wouldn’t be the first time as silence was often safer for abused and injured hybrids, and you wouldn’t begrudge them anything that made them feel better. But that didn’t stop you from hoping for something.

“All right,” Dabi drawled, “Sweetcheeks.”

Your eyebrows rose, feeling surprised despite your experience. Degrading or even sexual names weren’t exactly new; sufferers of abuse used it as a measure to take back a little control in a situation. Angering someone deliberately was better than being left to guess when the next hit was coming. However, you hadn’t expected the salacious tone to suit Dabi quite so well. He was, despite the purple splotches which looked like poorly healed skin grafts, very handsome and could pull off a bad-boy look with ease. No doubt many people would have been attracted to him despite his attitude.

Thankfully, you had some measure of immunity, despite understanding the appeal. While being demi-sexual had turned most of your attempted relationships with humans into wrecks, it had its advantages. After all, you couldn’t fall for a fuckboy if they didn’t make an attempt to make an emotional connection. And that was an oxymoron in itself.

The attempt to make you uncomfortable, plus your amusement at how little it would work against you, made you grin. Dabi’s cocky grin faltered as his plan backfired and Shigaraki hissed again.

Quickly, you wiped the grin away, trying to replace it with a reassuring smile. There was no need to antagonise them.

“Have you guys been told about the situation?” you asked. “In regards to Dabi-san’s destruction order?”

Dabi’s sneer was back in force.

“Straight to the point, huh?” he asked, then shrugged, “Yeah, I know they want me dead. Some two-bit lawyers came by first thing, said I didn’t have to worry.”

You let out a hum at the interesting phrasing. No doubt Monoma and Kendou had said no such thing, even if they were positive about Dabi’s chances, so you couldn’t help but find the bravado amusing. Once the destruction order was lifted, he’d be fine, you’d have no doubt. Now, if you could just get Shigaraki to borrow half of Dabi’s will to live, he’d be independent enough to get adopted out and you be back down to just six hybrids to take care of.

“They certainly think you’ve got a solid case,” you said, “Having someone prepared to take you both on will make things easier as well.”

Dabi’s expression twitched.

“Both?” he repeated, “Sure you can handle two hybrids, doll?”

You understood his confusion, it was much more common for people to have only one hybrid. Living and caring for hybrids wasn’t for everyone and it could get expensive; people didn’t tend to have multiples unless they had plenty of time and money. This was doubly the case when fostering or adopting a hybrid with a history of abuse.

“I’m very fortunate to have good help,” you said honestly, “Besides, only two would be a breeze at this point. I already have five hybrids living with me; you guys will be numbers six and seven.”

That startled the pair of them, their eyes blown wide as you held up the relevant number of fingers for each number. They both searched your face for any signs of falsehood but came up with nothing.

“Seriously?” Dabi asked. “Are you soft in the head or something?”

You fought the urge to chuckle at his incredulity and shrugged.

“Or something.”

“Tch, well it’s your funeral. Neither of us are exactly known for playing well with others.”

Oops, you’d gotten his back up. You tried to dial back your own attitude, aiming for calm and professional.

“That’s fine,” you said. “I’d like to keep injuries to a minimum but you don’t have to like anyone.”

To say they looked doubtful would have been an understatement. You decided to forgo your usual speech — reassurances that you wouldn’t re-home them unless asked, even if your relationship got sour — and got down to the basics of the arrangement.

“You’ll start off in your own area,” you told them, “You’ll have access to the garden at scheduled times, separate from the others, to start with. Once you start getting used to things, you’ll be introduced to the rest of the guys but still retain your own separate space. Later, if you decide you don’t like someone, the house is big enough that you can avoid the others easily enough once you’re cleared for the whole space. You don’t even have to interact with me beyond checking in to make sure you’re both okay.”

“And if we don’t want be the ones avoiding them?” Dabi asked.

His voice was low, dark, full of threat.

“Like I said, as long as the injuries are minimal, I’ll leave you guys to sort out the hierarchy stuff,” you said calmly, “No one is allowed to monopolise resources, or me, but most other things are fair game.”

You might have been more worried, or more strict, if your boys weren’t capable of standing up for themselves. Izuku was probably too timid at the moment but he was rapidly gaining confidence. He also wouldn’t be alone, as the other boys were already pretty protective of him. Well, maybe not Katsuki, (those two had some rocky history from when they met in a previous home) but Shouto and Hitoshi wouldn’t let Izuku get cornered. A hyena and a tiger at full strength would be a challenge but not impossible for your hybrids.

“So, if that seems amenable,” you added, “You guys are welcome to stay with me as soon as you both get a relatively clean bill of health.”

You looked at Shigaraki, a soft frown on your face. It’d be a couple of weeks, minimum, judging by the yellow creeping into the liger’s wounds.

“And if we don’t want to?” Dabi asked.

“Then the destruction order will likely get through,” you said with a shrug, “And Kurogiri will have had the last laugh.”

You were glad to see the fury passing over both their expressions, not just Dabi’s. Anger could be built upon and Shigaraki badly needed some foundation to start his recovery. But you had hope as you got up and dusted off your jeans. Now you just needed to wait and see.

“I’ll be back again in a few days, Dabi-san, Shigaraki-san,” you said, “I hope you’ll think over what I’ve said in the meantime.”

You looked at Yaomomo who took the hint easily and you both walked away from the hybrids.

It wasn’t until you were out of the isolation ward — an empty corridor connecting it to the rest of the shelter — that everything you suppressed came tumbling out. You took a few steps before slumping down into a crouch, hugging your knees, and let out a huge sigh. Yaomomo followed you down a few moments later, a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay, Nami-chan?” she asked softly.

Your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to push the sight of their injuries out of your mind. Gripping your arms as they wrapped around yourself, you tried to hide the tremor in your hands.

“That was hard,” you said, in possibly the biggest understatement of your life. “I don’t understand humans.”

Yaomomo just hummed, rubbing your back slightly as you fought for composure. She knew all too well how difficult it was for you to connect with others on a normal day, let alone when confronted with the evils humanity was capable of. You been over-sensitive to the plight of hybrids since you were a child, you’d just gotten better at handling it.

“Not all humans,” Yaomomo said, “Not you, not me. So many people would be just as horrified as we are.”

“I still prefer hybrids.”

Your childhood friend chuckled.

“I know. Let’s get you back to yours, then. You can have a cuddle pile when you get home.”

You turned your head, still crouched down but meeting her gaze at least. You were already imaging being comfortably squished between Katsuki, Eijirou, Shouto, and Hitoshi. Maybe now that he was officially adopted Izuku would feel able to join in too. You really wanted to touch his soft ears.

“That would be nice,” you admitted, gingerly standing back up.

Chapter Text

The cuddle pile had been exactly the soul-restorative you’d needed after seeing Dabi and Shigaraki. Surrounded by all five of your hybrids, lying back as you watched some mindless comedy, and not even Katsuki had done more than grumble at your choice of movie. It’d been so comfortable that you’d ended up staying up later than usual and, as a result, you were still sleepy at eleven am.

You were in the enviable position of being able to take a job at a small accounting company which allowed you to work from home on a part-time basis. You didn’t need the pay cheque — the wonders of capitalism meant you were making money in dividends faster than you could give it away — but it helped to have something which you could retreat to. Between your charity work and advocacy for hybrids’ rights, you spent a lot of time trying to temper your own sense of empathy. In comparison, accounting was just something you could do and let your heart rest for a few hours a day.

Sitting in your home office, you leaned back and stretched your arms over your head. Between your late night and the images of Shigaraki’s wounds dancing behind your heavy eyelids, you were finding it hard to concentrate. The stretch helped to wake you up a little but what really brought you round was opening your eyes and finding Hitoshi leaning against the doorway, a cup of steaming coffee in his hands.

You pulled off your headphones, setting them to one side, your gaze firmly on your ball python hybrid.

“What’s up, Hitoshi-kun?” you asked.

You kept your door open for emergencies, and there was a beanbag in the corner of the room if one of the boys felt the need to be near you, but this didn’t feel like either situation.

He straightened, approached your desk and handed over the coffee, all the while not breaking eye contact with you.

“You looked like you could use this,” he offered.

He settled, a hip resting against your old oak desk as he stared you down. You took a sip, sight unseen, of the coffee and closed your eyes in appreciation. Warmth bloomed in your chest which had nothing to do with the fresh shot of caffeine.

“Just how I like it,” you said, “Thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgement but made no move to leave, nor to stop penetrating you with his gaze. You took a few more sips of coffee, happy to return the stare for a while.

While hybrids were the result of an outrageous experiment, the scientists involved had been very selective with the DNA involved. So, even the most comely hybrid raised the beauty standard a few notches. And Shinsou Hitoshi was definitely above average.

Despite the bags under his eyes, his human form was downright pretty. He was tall, packed with lean muscle, and a sardonic smile which made your heart skip a beat. His lavender hair was always artfully scruffy, matching the scales skimming the back of his neck, down his back and on the outside of his long limbs. The remaining area was covered in pale skin, a sharp contrast to the hypnotic wine colour of both his iris and sclera, the purple only interrupted by his vertical slit pupils.

Right now, he was watching you with a smirk and you realised you’d been spacing out while looking at his pretty face.

“You should take a break,” he said, a sly insinuation in his tone. “You know, if you’re finding it hard to concentrate.”

You gave him an exaggerated pout which succeeded in cracking his smirk briefly into a small grin.

“You’re very distracting,” you said, half-whining before returning to your normal voice. “But you’re right. I can’t seem to keep my head on straight today.”

“Not enough sleep?”

“That, and other things.”

“You’re worried about those two, I’m guessing.”

You sighed, a fond smile on your face.

“When did I get so easy to read?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes — difficult to do without discernible sclera but he managed — and stood up straight.

“Since always,” he said, “Now, stand up.”

Blinking in confusion, you did as Hitoshi demanded and were rewarded by the larger man enveloping you in a hug. You did your best not to tense up as you returned the hug.

Most hybrids were a bit more touchy-feely than humans, even as adults, though there were plenty of exceptions. Fish-type hybrids were very rare and were supposed to disdain human touch, birds could swing one way or the other, reptiles tended to avoid contact with anyone unless they were desperate to raise their body temperature. Hitoshi was, by the standards of snake hybrids, pretty social but this was the first time he’d hugged you outside of a designated cuddle pile.

You were so happy, a dopey grin had stretched across your face. Hitoshi had been with you for almost five years and you’d given up hope that he’d ever be so affectionate. Not that he didn’t care about you, he just tended to do it more quietly with cups of coffee when you worked and a blanket for you legs when you were reading. You’d been more than happy to accept his own brand of love — hell, you’d have been fine if he’d decided to avoid you completely — but nothing really beat a hug from someone you adored.

And you did adore him. More than you should, really.

“Thank you,” you said. “I think I needed this.”

If you’d merely been watching Hitoshi, you likely wouldn’t have noticed the way his tension unfurled at your words. Pressed up close, you could feel his back relaxing and you felt the urge to tease him. Hitoshi always seemed so self-confident, in his own quiet way, so you hadn’t seen him this nervous about anything since he was formally adopted. You briefly wondered how long he’d been wanting to initiate something like a hug, and what had prompted him to finally gather his courage.

“Thought you might,” Hitoshi said, ever playing it cool, “Come on, let’s go grab an early lunch. Katsuki’s been in the kitchen since breakfast.”

Rather than letting you go completely, Hitoshi moved an arm around your shoulders, half-holding you to his side. Being too short to truly return the gesture, you slung your own arm around Hitoshi’s sinfully thin waist.

Your eyes lit up at the idea of a truly home-cooked meal. As much as your two chefs made restaurant quality food, Katsuki’s meals contained real love (even if he denied it) which made all the difference. He cooked on weekends with the most frequency and had long stopped needing your help to prepare meals.

“Now that does sound tasty,” you said, “Any idea what he’s making?”

Hitoshi’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air before flinching back.

“Something with enough spice to blow our heads off,” he muttered. “He better have made milder versions.”

You chuckled. “You know he has. He hasn’t made a mistake like that for years.”

Hitoshi just grunted, obviously remembering the incident in question. He’d been the unfortunate victim of Katsuki’s “mild” curry that you and Eijirou enjoyed, despite your warnings. What a hybrid could handle — both in terms of food and situations — varied by both species and individual temperament. So while Hitoshi was more inclined towards spice than many serpent hybrids, the “mild” curry nearly burnt out his taste buds.

Together, the pair of you wandered into the family dining room, where you found the rest of the guys, minus Katsuki. Eijirou and Izuku lit up at the sight of you and Shouto raised an eyebrow at your cosy stance next to Hitoshi. You flushed a little under his heterochromatic gaze and missed both Eijirou and Izuku giving Hitoshi a thumbs-up.

“Hi, guys,” you said, ducking your head a little, “Looking forward to lunch?”

“Yeah, smells super good!” Eijirou said. “Baku-bro’s been hard at work.”

You chuckled at Eijirou’s usual enthusiasm. Despite the general reputation of Tasmanian devils, your devil hybrid had the personality of a puppy. He was particularly close to Katsuki, your resident grizzly bear hybrid, but was always happy to chat or play-wrestle with anyone. Between him and Izuku, they provided the necessary sunshine to balance your household.

“Do you know if he’d be up for serving a little ahead of schedule, Ei-kun?” you asked. “I need a break from work.”

“I’ll go ask,” Eijirou said.

He flashed a smile, revealing his almost shark-like teeth, before dashing down to the kitchen.

You were distracted, watching Eijirou go, when something touched your forehead and made you jump. You blinked owlishly, realising it had only been Shouto, pressing the back of his hand to check your temperature. Shouto was a wolf-dog with a rare fur pattern; he was split evenly down the middle, even in his human form. On his right side, his hair was pure white and his right eye was dark grey; his left had crimson hair, an almost turquoise blue eye, and a red burn scar surrounding said eye. Despite a traumatic upbringing and having to battle the warring instincts of a domesticated dog and a wild wolf, he was a steady personality. He had the barest frown on his face as he checked your temperature.

“You seem fine,” he murmured, though the frown didn’t ease. “You’re not overworking yourself again?”

Your eyes crinkled as you smiled reassuringly at him. You’d once gotten a fever a few years ago, suffering under the double pressure of the end of the financial year coinciding with an important hybrids’ rights bill coming up for discussion. You’d come home at the end of it all and fainted. The boys had, initially, panicked and now every time you acted off — grouchy, withdrawn, even just being a little spacey — Shouto took your temperature to check you were all right, often before you’d realised the problem yourself. It could get annoying, sometimes, but you couldn’t begrudge him for knowing you so well.

“I’m not,” you promised, “Just lacking sleep.”

“She’s also worried about the two jailbirds,” Hitoshi added over your head.

Now, anyone could have made out the frown on Shouto’s face and you shot Hitoshi a sour look. You hadn’t wanted to worry him unduly, especially because Shouto wasn’t the best at understanding interpersonal connections.

“Why?” he asked, “Surely they’re in the best place possible for them?”

You sighed. “That’s true, but I care about their continued well-being and there’s a lot of uncertainty surrounding that.”

Shouto narrowed his eyes in concentration and you dreaded the next “why”. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have empathy or care for others, he just didn’t seem to have the capacity — or perhaps the will — to extend it beyond your immediate family. Caring deeply about people you’d spoken to once was just not something Shouto understood.

“Is this one of the times I have to accept something as fact, even if I don’t understand?” he asked. “Like you believing coriander tastes like soap?”

You didn’t know if you wanted to sigh or laugh at the comparison. You could practically feel Hitoshi holding in the latter from the way his arm tensed around you and Izuku was darting his gaze from between you and Shouto as though he didn’t know if he’d heard a joke or missed it entirely.

You bit back your reaction and reminded yourself you were grateful Shouto had retained the concept. Trying to get Shouto to understand that he could stay for as long as he wanted without needing to “repay” you in any way had been difficult. He’d made a lot of progress over the years and you were grateful for every new step in the right direction. Even if he often did it in the most adorkable way possible.

“Yes,” you said with a tired smile.

Before the conversation could continue any further, Eijirou burst into the room carrying three plates of curry.

“Soup’s up!” he declared.

Glad for the distraction, you shooed everyone to their seats. Eijrou handed out the mildest curries to Hitoshi and Shouto, and a medium strength one to Izuku. Katsuki wasn’t far behind him, carrying two hot curries for you and Eijirou, and one for himself which was so ferociously hot the smell made your eyes sting. Once you were all seated, you thanked Katsuki for cooking and dug in.

“Itadakimasu!”

Any further discussion was swallowed with each bite of Katsuki’s curry; it was simply too good to waste time chatting.

Chapter Text

You rocked up back at the local shelter after just four days, unable to get a handle on your worries for Dabi and Shigaraki. This time, you only brought Katsuki, and only because he’d basically bullied his way into the car, insisting he was coming with you no matter what. You’d relented after about ten minutes of arguing, unwilling to fight against the bear’s stubborn streak. You had to pick your battles with Katsuki and still expect to lose most of the time.

It was hardly the first time you’d brought Katsuki to the shelter but he still managed to turn heads. Natural platinum blond hair, glittering ruby-red eyes, sharp features, and natural tendency to build muscle; he had the look male models killed themselves trying to achieve. He’d been slighter as a teenager but as an adult he spent a lot of his free time gaining weight, driven partially by his instincts as a grizzly. Nowadays, the only way to hide Katsuki’s built physique was to put him a bag, which he’d still make work with his unfairly perfect face. Adding in his dislike of sleeves and trips out with Katsuki usually ended up with a few people walking into poles or each other.

He certainly managed to catch the attention of the two women on reception, who openly ogled Katsuki to the point where you had to wave a hand in their faces before they snapped out of it. You couldn’t help but wonder sourly how they’d view Katsuki if they could see the small rounded ears on the top of his head. You’d bet they wouldn’t be so open about their interest then.

Smothering the bitter feelings in your stomach, you gave the receptionists a polite smile.

“Hi, Date Nami, here to see Dabi-san and Shigaraki-san,” you said.

The pair of them obviously recognised your name and scrambled to apologise for their lack of professionalism. You waved them off — you’d never been a tyrant and you knew even a word from you could result in serious consequences for them — and simply reiterated your desire to see the two hybrids in their care.

“If you could make sure the visit is properly logged, I’d be grateful,” you said, “It’ll be important for Dabi-san’s legal fight.”

One of the women nodded like a bobble-head, while the other plastered a large smile on her face and asked if you would like her to inform Yaomomo that you’d arrived. Another thing you waved off; your friend was undoubtedly even more buried in paperwork than when you’d last seen her.

“So long as I can talk to someone involved in their care, I’ll be happy,” you said.

The receptionist nodded and picked up the phone beside her, dialling an internal number. After just a few chirps, someone from the isolation ward was on their way to greet you. Not wanting to get in anyone’s way, you tugged Katsuki around the corner so you weren’t directly in front of the reception area. Even slightly out of view, gazes were still drawn to Katsuki and you tipped your head back to look at him yourself.

Human-hybrid relationships were hugely stigmatised, with many people calling for the criminalisation of such unions. Some humans considered hybrids to be abominations against nature, or their gods, and some considered human-hybrid relations to be nothing more than bestiality. There were some who put up a smokescreen of concern due to the relative instability of hybrids’ DNA, or the sexual abuse many hybrids had suffered throughout their short history. Both were important considerations but, deep down, that “concern” was largely based in prejudice.

You weren’t someone who believed a human-hybrid relationship was exploitative by nature. However, with the current power resting so firmly on the humans’ side, you did feel such relationships needed a certain level of scrutiny. Not unlike the teacher-student pairings which occasionally cropped up in the media, there was just too much which could go wrong in your opinion. It was better if the sexual element of the relationship waited until the student graduated: which was fine in terms of a metaphor but the reality left you heartbroken and confused about what to do with your feelings. So you just ended up sitting on them and hoping for a miracle.

Before you could spiral further into your musing, Katsuki looked down at you, the disgust he’d directed at others disappearing from his face. He smirked, having caught you staring, and you flushed in response.

“See something you like?” he asked, voice gruff but not hiding the teasing lilt.

You poked him in the side, feeling the muscles jump even if the mountain of a hybrid didn’t. Katsuki’s smirk turned into an outright grin.

“Date-kun.”

You turned towards the voice, finding an older man waiting for you. He looked like the last time he’d gotten any sleep was some time in the previous century and his dark clothes looked sloppy. You smiled at your fellow activist, surprised to see him so early in the day. He was notoriously a night-owl, making him difficult to co-ordinate with.

“Aizawa-san,” you greeted. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yaoyozoru-kun asked if I could look in on the liger,” he said, “You’re here to see him and our other problem child, I understand.”

You nodded and silently approved of Yaomomo’s choice to call Aizawa in. He was an expert in many varieties of hybrid and had a soft spot for felines. If anyone could talk Shigaraki around, it was him.

“I am,” you said, “How have they been?”

Aizawa grunted, a look of annoyance clear on his face as he turned and moved towards the isolation ward. You fell in step with the older man, Katsuki following up behind you.

“They’re both teetering towards self-destruct mode,” he said, “You can see it on the hyena’s face; he’s always thinking about whether it’d be worth killing someone else to get the wait out of the way. The liger seems determined to go feral, though he’s not there yet, but he’s at least started taking the antibiotics now.”

You drew in a steadying breath. It was a tiny, minuscule amount of progress, but it might mean Shigaraki would survive long enough to get Dabi’s destruction order dismissed. If you could get them both past that point, the options and chances of a recovery would increase exponentially.

“Any chance he’s changing when no one’s watching?” you asked.

Aizawa frowned but gave a rolling shrug.

“Anything’s possible,” he said, “There’s no cameras in these rooms. But I wouldn’t think it’s likely. These two have some sort of end game on their minds.”

You gave a worried hum. If they did, that would complicate things, it was hard enough keeping someone alive when they were willing to fight. Suicide watch with two of them in the same room would be almost impossible.

Lost in that thought, you were standing in front of Dabi and Shigaraki before you knew it, only a thick glass door between you. Shigaraki was, predictably, still in his animal form and lounging near the back of the room. Dabi, however, was out of sight. Possibly lurking in the room’s blindspot beside the door.

“Afternoon, Shigaraki-san,” you said, waving at the distant liger. “This is Bakugou Katsuki. Out of my hybrids, he’s been with me the longest. How’re you feeling?”

Silence greeted you, Shigaraki’s expression conveying his exact thoughts about your intelligence level. Katsuki clicked his tongue at the lack of response while you just chuckled.

“I can still read body language, even if you don’t reply verbally,” you said, “You’re looking better, less in pain. I was glad to hear from Aizawa-san that you’ve been taking the antibiotics. Hopefully they’ll put you on the mend.”

Shigaraki huffed and lay his head down on his front paws, his eyes closing. It was an obvious attempt at blocking you out.

Katsuki banged a fist down on the glass, leaning over your head to do so, and fixed a glare at the liger.

“Oi, Fleabag,” he yelled. “Fucking answer the lady.”

You rolled your eyes at Katsuki, deciding not to remind him he hadn’t spoken to you at first either. Hell, for the first two months, he’d refused to even look at you.

“Katsuki,” you said, on a sigh, “You’re not helping.”

The bear hybrid let out a “che” before resolutely turning his head, seemingly washing his hands of the situation.

Shigaraki remained closed off, so you decided to switch targets.

“Dabi-san, how’re you doing today?” you called, raising your voice slightly.

You got silence in return for that too. Disheartened, you looked towards Aizawa, only for the older man to shrug.

“He’s alive and in there,” he said, “That’s about all I can say.”

Feeling unresolved, you looked back at Shigaraki. He was looking better, but he was still skin and bones.

“Are they both eating okay?” you asked.

“Mostly,” Aizawa said. “Tomura doesn’t seem all that interested in food but he’s eating enough to gain weight, slowly.”

“Hm, maybe the food isn’t to his taste?” you murmured. “Perhaps something a bit more exotic would help? I know tigers generally prefer boar or deer.”

“Lions aren’t picky,” Aizawa added. “Anything from antelopes to water buffalo.”

Shigaraki’s ear twitched at the last option and your eyes lit up. Glancing at Aizawa, you checked if he’d seen the movement as well, and were satisfied to see the gleam in his eye. Nodding to each other, you turned back to the room.

“Seeing as neither of you are interested in a conversation, I’ll be off,” you said, “See you soon.”

The only response you received was yet more silence and the lack of sound continued until you were safely out of the isolation ward. Then you turned to Aizawa with a hopeful grin.

“I’ll pay for the water buffalo,” you said, “Enough for the two of them.”

Aizawa nodded while Katsuki huffed in displeasure. You both ignored the dissent.

“I use a ranch to the south,” Aizawa said, “Run by the Uchida family.”

“I know it,” you confirmed, “We use them occasionally too. I’ll call and let them know the shelter can put it on my tab.”

“Then I’ll speak to Yaoyorozu-kun.”

“Che,” Katsuki scoffed. “You know you’re just rewarding bad behaviour.”

You looked back and up at your longest-standing hybrid companion, amusement tingeing your expression.

“You say that like I’ve never had to bribe you to get you to behave.”

Colour flushed his cheeks as Aizawa chuckled quietly.

“Oi. Don’t make me sound like some snot-nosed brat.”

You suppressed a smile but shared a conspiratorial look with Aizawa. Though your contact with the older man couldn’t be described as frequent, even he knew how difficult to handle Katsuki had been during his teens. He was your original problem child, after all.

“OI!”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back to link an arm through his. “You’re a very mature adult and I shouldn’t tease you.”

“Damn straight.”

Despite his apparent acceptance of your apology, he still looked like he’d shake you off at any moment. The three of you were walking back towards the reception area and you made to slip your arms apart, knowing Katsuki’s vehement dislike of PDA. You almost jumped when he moved, hooking his arm up and catching your hand with his in the crook of his elbow, like a western gentleman escorting a lady.

You looked up at him, unable to hid the surprise on your face, but your bear hybrid refused to meet your gaze.

“Do me a favour and keep those harpies away,” he muttered. “Don’t need no extras staring at me.”

You blinked up at him, not quite understanding. Admittedly Katsuki had never preened under the constant adoration he received from the general public, but he’d also never seemed to care one way or the other. He’d always remained enviably aloof from others’ opinions unless they were speaking directly to him. He’d also never used you as a shield before and the main part of your brain which would usually question such a thing out loud was currently contemplating the large muscle flexing under your hand.

“Date-kun, I’ll head off now.”

“Huh?” you said dumbly before turning back to Aizawa.

You’d all stopped just before the door to the reception area and you belatedly realised Aizawa was saying good-bye.

“Oh, right! Thank you for your time, Aizawa-san. We can see ourselves out.”

You smiled at him and watched him walk away before looking back up at Katsuki. A single blond eyebrow was raised and a smirk played on his lips. Your cheeks turned pink and you looked away, making to enter the shelter’s public area.

“Come on,” you huffed. “Let’s just head home.”

You ignored the low chuckle that rumbled through Katsuki’s arm and straight into your heart.

Chapter Text

Kirishima Eijirou was a delight, there was no other word to describe him; he could lift your mood without even trying and you were endlessly grateful for it. So when he asked if you could accompany him to go clothes shopping after lunch, you readily agreed. After extending the invitation to the other guys and getting turned down, you both headed out to the local mall.

“You sure you’re okay for normal shops?” you asked, “I don’t mind heading to the speciality ones after we’ve gotten you some tops.”

Eijirou beamed at you, swinging your held hands between you as you walked.

Most hybrids could wear human clothes without too many adjustments. It was generally limited to slits in shirts for wings, or a hole in their trousers for tails; stuff anyone with access to a needle and thread could make with a reasonable attempt at. Females could be a little trickier — bras were a menace no matter what your species — but you got off lightly in a male-only household. Eijirou himself only needed the latter for his hefty red tail and you were more than proficient at altering clothes, so normal human clothes weren’t a problem. Still, sometimes it was nice for the guys to shop in places where everything from the fit to the fabric choices were chosen with hybrids in mind. It wasn’t like money was an obstacle.

“It’s fine,” he said, “I’m not looking for trousers or anything. Just a few of my shirts are getting a bit tight around the chest.”

There were no points for guessing why that was; Eijirou was a mainstay in your home gym and was the primarily the one teaching Izuku how to lift weights. He was by far your biggest hybrid while in human form; a few inches taller than Katsuki and a few broader as well. It made an amusing contrast to his animal form — as a Tasmanian Devil he was much smaller than Katsuki’s bear and Shouto’s wolfdog — and was a good example of why you should never judge a book by its cover.

Still, you gave an uncertain hum at Eijirou’s decision and let yourself be guided to a higher end menswear shop.

“Hopefully this place is still Baku-bro approved,” Eijirou mumbled, causing you to giggle.

Katsuki wasn’t exactly a label-snob but he was derisive about “poor quality” clothes. If he caught anyone in the house wearing something like that, he’d bitch at them until it was thrown away. The amount and persistence varied a lot, with you and Eijirou getting the worst of it. Back when he was still a teenager, Katsuki had even gone so far as to shred a few offending articles, pushing your legendary patience past breaking point. These days he stuck to quietly replacing anything that crossed a line, which wasn’t great but it was an improvement.

You let Eijirou go ahead of you, picking out shirts on his own. You trailed behind more slowly, content to run your eyes over the racks in a sort of lazy curiosity. You were fingering a very soft, thick jumper in a familiar shade of lavender when Eijirou bounded over, carrying a small mountain of tops.

“I’m gonna try them on,” he said, “Come with me?”

“Of course.”

You quickly scanned the rack for a jumper of the right size — a medium compared to Eijirou’s extra large — grabbed it and hurried after him. His red eyes flicked down to the jumper then back up to you before he smiled widely.

“For Hitoshi-kun?” he asked.

You nodded. “I know it’s only autumn but he feels the cold more.”

“Yeah, I’m glad my animal is warm-blooded. Being a snake must be a pain.”

You shrugged. “Every animal has it’s advantages and disadvantages.”

“Speaking of, tell me about the two new fosters.”

You’d made your way to the changing rooms and you gave the young attendant your silent approval when he didn’t react at seeing Eijirou’s teeth or ears. Unlike some hybrids, it was impossible for him to pass as a human. He had large rounded ears, a thick tail, and teeth reminiscent of a shark’s, even if they were only ever bared in a smile.

Eijirou disappeared into a room, cordoned off by only a curtain, and you sat on a stool just outside it.

“Dabi-san’s pretty hostile,” you said, raising your voice slightly, “Which is fine. He’s got every reason to distrust humans and he doesn’t know me. Shigaraki-san’s a bit of a puzzle. He doesn’t seem to have given up on life, not like Aizawa-san fears, but he’s definitely got no interest in me. Unlike Dabi-san, it doesn’t seem like he has a history of physical abuse: just the injuries he came with and a chronic problem of over-grooming and scratching too hard.”

“You think it might be emotional abuse? Something else?”

You could practically hear the frown in Eijirou’s voice.

Like with humans, there were a range of ways to hurt hybrids which didn’t leave any marks. It was impossible to tell what horrors Shigaraki had been through after just two meetings. Truth was you might never get to the bottom of it because it was entirely dependent on how much he opened up to you while in your care.

“I don’t know, Ei-kun,” you sighed, “He hasn’t said a word yet. Hasn’t even been out of animal form from what the shelter has said.”

“Is he going feral?”

You almost laugh, remembering the intelligence in Shigaraki’s dark red gaze. For once, you really did disagree with Aizawa’s intuition.

“I’ve never seen a less feral hybrid in my life,” you said, “He’s got his reasons for staying in animal form.”

“Reasons?”

Eijirou pulled back the curtain, showing himself in a formal black shirt and fiddling with the cuffs. Wordlessly, you stood up and helped him. Once the cuffs were in place, Eijirou looked at his reflection, nodding in approval. You backed up to the stool again, letting him shut the curtain once more.

“I’m not sure really,” you said, “Could be for defence, could be simple defiance. Personally, I think he’s doing it so people stop trying to talk to him.”

You heard your companion chuff in amusement.

“He’s anti-social then?”

“Eh, I don’t really know,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe he’ll be more social once he relaxes. Or maybe when he’s not so hungry. He was skin and bones when he came in; Dabi-san was skinny as well but not emaciated.”

“Yeah, Katsuki mentioned you were spoiling them with water buffalo.”

“Is stopping them from starving really spoiling them?”

The silence from behind the curtain was deafening and you frowned in concern. If what you said sounded like a reprimand, you hadn’t mean it to. And Eijirou wasn’t overly sensitive toward criticism.

“Ei-kun?” you asked.

He stuck his head out of the curtain, clutching it to him. If you weren’t distracted by his pinned back ears and wandering gaze, you might have laughed. This was the guy who had to be reminded to wear a shirt when guests came around, and now he was acting like he had to protect his modesty.

You stood up, reached out and cupped his cheek. Reluctantly he dragged his red eyes to meet yours.

“What’s this really about?” you asked gently. “You know you can tell me anything.”

He hesitated, long enough that you wondered if it was a conversation you needed in private.

“There’s going to be seven of us,” he admitted in a low tone, “And we only just agreed to adopt Izuku.”

You bit back a sigh and raised your other hand to hold his head in both your palms. You ran the pads of your thumbs across his cheekbones, watching his eyelids flutter as he fought closing them.

“You’re worried I won’t have enough time for each of you.”

You didn’t ask, the answer was fairly obvious. But Eijirou nodded regardless.

“I won’t tell you you’ve got nothing to worry about,” you said. “Because I was planning on drawing the line at the five of you, for exactly the same reason.”

The ears drooped further and you sighed.

“Ei-kun,” you said, “You know I love you guys, and adding another hybrid doesn’t mean I love you any less, nor that you’re less important to me.”

The ears pricked up a fraction, a dusting of red touching Eijirou’s cheeks. Your heart swelled at his apparent acceptance of your feelings but you stamped down on the urge to blurt out how you really felt. Instead you bit your lip and fought to remember where you’d been going with your previous train of thought. Ah, right, the balancing act.

“We’ll sort out the logistics when they’re actually with us,” you told him, “But I don’t plan on cutting into anyone’s time to accommodate them. I’d give up work before I let that happen.”

Eijirou gave you a lop-sided smile.

“We wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he said, “We know we’re not the only hybrids that need you.”

As well as working two days a week for the accountancy firm, you also still worked as a lobbyist on behalf of hybrids’ rights. After your mother had died, you’d taken up her mantle and done some good work over the years. It had been an uphill struggle in the beginning — you were young, your father had had control of most of your inheritance, and the general public were mostly still ambivalent to hybrids — but things had gotten easier. These days, movements to give hybrids the same rights as humans were gaining ground all over the world. You also had local colleagues and peers now who could take the lion’s share of the work, but you liked to keep your hand in. And sometimes it helped to have a well-known name to rattle some cages now and then.

But regardless, you figured you’d done enough to be selfish once in a while.

“Yeah, but you guys are more important to me,” you said.

Eijirou beamed at you, a full set of sharp teeth on display before he leaned forwards and placed a kiss on the top of your head. Despite being largely used to your hybrids’ affectionate natures, you still felt yourself blush and you dropped your gaze. Only for your mouth to drop open and your blush increase ten-fold.

“E-Ei-kun,” you stammered, “What’s with the shirt?”

Eijirou looked down at himself, realising he’d dropped the curtain at some point. He wasn’t sure what the problem was, he’d been a bit shy earlier but was only wearing a long-sleeved top in a dark shade of red. In a rare turn of events, it not only fitted across his chest and arms but also showed off how toned his stomach was.

“Oh, right, I was going to show you,” he said, backing up a pace so you could see it properly, “I wasn’t sure about it because if I gain more weight, it’ll have to go, but it fits now. Does it look good?”

Oh it fitted, all right. The fabric’s stretch fit outlined every contour and dip of his muscles. It wasn’t straining to contain Eijirou but it would definitely attract all sorts of attention.

“Nami-chan?”

You dragged your gaze up. “Huh?”

Eijirou was smirking at you, flexing his biceps with a mischievous look on his face. You blushed even harder and had to look away completely.

You scolded yourself silently. You’d seen Eijirou without his shirt off on many occasions over the years and had long figured out how to keep your cool. Why did this shirt send all of your self-control down the toilet? Maybe it was the element of curiosity; just seeing him in the top made you picture Eijirou taking it off and, well, your imagination was happy to take it from there.

“I asked, does it look good on me?”

“U-um, yeah,” you said, “Good. Really good.”

You heard his satisfied little hum.

“I’ll get it then,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Might have to wear it fairly often though, to make sure I get proper use out of it before I get bigger again.”

“Eijirou.”

He had the audacity to laugh at your reaction, only getting worse when you drew the curtain between you and stormed back to your seat. Honestly, you didn’t know what had been getting into your guys recently.

Chapter Text

Contrary to public opinion, most court proceedings were incredibly boring. Even criminal cases were bogged down by the careful layering of dozens of witness statements and forensic reports available, hoping to render the opponent immobile under the weight of it all. Small courts were the worst, and even the most horrendous cases of hybrid cruelty only ever reached that far.

As much as you were appreciate of the good work Monoma and Kendou had done — their pile of evidence on Dabi’s behalf was around three times higher than the prosecution’s — you were beginning to feel sorry for the judge. The man had clearly come in expecting this to be a quick case and, while you loathed how easily hybrids could be condemned to death, you thought four hours’ worth of evidence was a heavy-handed punishment.

The prosecution’s case had already fallen away in Monoma’s capable hands. Their main evidence consisted of the video taken during the raid, the testimony of the four attending police officers, and Kurogiri’s autopsy. Japan’s laws didn’t treat hybrids much differently from animals, meaning it wasn’t standard practice to interrogate them or interview them as witnesses. So, they were lacking any testimony from Dabi and Shigaraki, which Monoma used to undermine the investigation into the killing as sloppy and without thorough consideration. A thought which clearly ticked off the judge in question, making you wonder if Monoma had already known it was the man’s pet peeve.

By the time Monoma got to present his own case, it was reminiscent of flogging a dead horse. Still, he piled on testimonies, expert witnesses, and even brought you up to the stand, using your experience with rehabilitating human killers.

“So, Date-sama, you maintain it’s perfectly possible to reintegrate a hybrid like Dabi-sama into society?” Monoma asked.

“Yes,” you said, “It requires a cautious and patient approach but myself and a handful of my peers have been successful, allowing the hybrids in question to be adopted permanently.”

“And you yourself have agreed to take on responsibility for Dabi-sama?”

“Along with his companion, Shigaraki-san, yes. I have already drafted and signed an agreement with the Central Musutafu Hybrid Shelter. It leaves me to cover the costs of his care and rehabilitation until Dabi-san has been cleared for adoption. If I should fail, Dabi-san will be under my care for the rest of his life, his conditions monitored by the same compliance board as a shelter undertaking the same responsibilities.”

Monoma ended your part of things there but then it was the prosecution’s turn. Now facing him, you could see how young the opposing lawyer looked. He couldn’t have been too inexperienced — not even the prosecutors’ office would send someone to lead the case on their first day — but he certainly didn’t look like he’d passed the bar more than two or three years ago.

“Date-sama, you say you’ve rehabilitated human-killers before,” he said, “But can I ask what your success rate?”

“I’ve only had two,” you said, “So, fifty percent.”

“So you currently have another human-killer living with you? Akaguro Chizome-san, I believe his name is?”

You held back a sigh. This was not a line in questioning you wanted explored. Worse, it implied the prosecution had done a deep-dive on your life and who knew what they’d managed to dig up. You didn’t think you had many skeletons in your closet to exploit but now you were second-guessing everything. You had more than the advisable number of hybrids, sure, and they were all male, so there was plenty to imply there. Would he bring up your late father? Suggest that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? You wouldn’t know how to respond if that came up. You’d made as clean a break from his as soon as you could but his shadow had been a long and dark one.

“No,” you said. “Unfortunately, Akaguro-san is dead.”

“Oh, I see,” he said with an exaggerated frown, “And how did that happen? Illness? An accident perhaps?”

“He was killed in defence of my life,” you said, a sense of guilt rising.

“By whom?”

“By my adopted hybrid, Bakugou Katsuki.”

“And was your hybrid put down in response?” he asked, then interrupted while you tried to form a sentence. “Ah, just a yes or no answer, please.”

You allowed yourself a long blink, knowing the answer would sound bad. “No.”

“No? And yet you still have your certification from the compliance board.”

He looked up at you smugly and you fought a scowl. You’d done everything by the book. You’d cared for Akaguro immensely and him trying to take your life had come completely out of the blue. Katsuki himself had only just come out the fight alive and the compliance board had cleared you both of all blame. That was the only reason you still had your certificate and, even though it was sometimes cold comfort, you tried to remember that.

Bloody arrogant twit.

“Objection,” Monoma said, standing abruptly. “My learned friend has failed to ask a question.”

“Objection sustained,” the judge said. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that comment, so move along, Councillor.”

“Forgive me, your Honour, I paused for too long. Now, Date-sama, you say you’re prepared to house the hybrid for life, however, it’s much more expensive to house a human-killer, is it not?”

“It is,” you said hesitantly.

You frowned, looking over to Monoma and Kendou who also looked surprised. It seemed like an obvious thing to say; of course it was more expensive to run a small prison instead of a home. Just to off-set the liability you had to privately employ a hybrid vet, plus shoulder the extra costs incurred by the fact Dabi and Shigaraki would be living in a separate house in the grounds of your estate. It all added up, but you didn’t begrudge it; better spent on saving a life than rotting in your pockets.

“And keeping hybrids to the standards set by the Hybrids’ Rights Association is already pretty expensive. You do keep to those recommendations, don’t you?”

The HRA set out guidelines for best practice when dealing with hybrids in every capacity. At it’s simplest, it advocated for hybrids to be considered and treated like human dependants of the appropriate age. The details were a little more complicated — the treatment of disabled humans in Japan was too poor to form basis of an animal’s care, let alone a hybrid’s — and it did get quite expensive.

But you still didn’t get where this guy was going with this.

“I should hope so,” you said, “I did help to draft the current guidelines.”

The lawyer grinned at you, like you’d walked into a trap.

“Yes, you do good work for the HRA,” he said, “But I understand your only paid work is part-time at a small accountancy firm?”

“…. Yes,” you said, your confusion ever mounting.

It was true while you were a lobbyist for the HRA and hybrids’ rights in general, you did it without drawing a salary. You weren’t precisely a volunteer — your name was on far too many of the documents for that — but you also didn’t receive a penny for your work.

You wondered if he was going to claim your money was ill-gotten gains. Your mother’s side of the family were squeaky clean and so was your inheritance from that side. The same couldn’t be said for your father’s… You worried your bottom lip, wondering what the next question would be.

“So, how did you plan to fund Dabi’s lifestyle, if you fail to rehabilitate him?”

You paused, certain you’d misheard. The courtroom was silent, everyone frozen in time as the tension evaporated in an instant. The whole room was looking at the prosecution but the young man still smiled like he had you. You looked up at the judge, who had closed his eyes in apparent second-hand shame, then back at the lawyer.

It didn’t seem to be a joke.

“Well, Date-sama?” the prosecution pressed.

Did he seriously not know?

“I’m a multi-billionaire,” you said.

You watched the lawyer’s smile drop, genuine confusion on his face. Apparently not.

You looked to Monoma and Kendou but they provided little assistance, still staring at the lawyer for the prosecution incredulously.

“I’d like not to be,” you continued hesitantly, “I don’t think having so much money is ethical but, thanks to my inheritance from both sides of my family, I’ve been a billionaire since I was eighteen and the interest accrues faster than I can give it away. I have the accountancy job to try to keep me grounded.”

The lawyer seemed to break slightly at the knowledge. His colleague looked like she would die from embarrassment. Clearly, this was somehow brand new knowledge for the pair of them.

You sighed loudly. Not knowing whether to be grateful their cross-examination was falling to pieces all by itself, or frustrated at their patchy work ethic. A quick internet search wouldn’t admittedly flag up your name in bright red after you’d taken your mother’s maiden name, but you were still on the list of the top thirty richest people in Japan. Not to mention most of your details would have been passed to the prosecution as part of the information exchange.

“Did you not even google me?” you asked in exasperation.

The young man’s expression, crumpling into a grimace, showed he hadn’t.

The judge coughed meaningfully. “Date-sama, it is generally up to the councillors to ask questions. Having said that: Councillor, do you have any further questions for Date-sama?”

“Um…. No, not really….”

He sort of slumped into the seat, looking like he wanted to the ground to swallow him up. His colleague, much the same.

You were allowed to get down from the stand and return to your seat next to Yaomomo. You two shared a look, conveying a whole conversation — how the hell did they mess up so badly? I don’t know, I kinda feel sorry for him. Don’t, he made a fool of himself all by himself — before turning back towards the judge. Thankfully, without a jury there was no need for closing statements and the judge chose forgo his right to deliberate.

“I hereby dismiss the petition for a destruction order on the hybrid “Dabi” due to lack of evidence,” he said, “Furthermore, I will be speaking to the prosecutors’ office about putting such claims forward in future. This has been a substantial waste of time for everyone involved.”

Despite most of the time being taken up by Monoma’s dedication to labouring a point, the judge looked at the prosecution while making the statement. Monoma’s professional demeanour lasted until he was out of court and could pull off his wig. There, in front of the general public, he dissolved into gut-rolling laughter.

“Did you- did you hear him?” he gasped out. “H-how do you plan, how do you plan to fund this?”

More laughter followed and not even Kendou’s patented chop to the head could stop him. She probably hadn’t done it as hard as usual, given she was also fighting a widening grin.

“Come on, Monoma,” she said, “You’re being unprofessional.”

She looked over to you, a sparkle in her eyes despite the mock-exasperation on her face. “Although you, you asking if he’d bothered to google you. Do you know how vain you sounded?”

You shrugged. “I have a wiki page.”

“You do not,” Kendou said, pulling out her phone even as she denied it. “Oh my god, you do. Do you maintain it yourself?”

“I’m not bothered enough,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I only know about it because some anti-hybrid idiots rewrote the article once and the family lawyers got involved.”

“It even has your parents’ names on here and a link to your dad’s page,” Kendou said, skimming down the page, “God, I actually feel kind of sorry for the guy; that’s one hell of a mistake.”

“I don’t,” Monoma said, finally calming down, “But what I’d give to be a fly on the wall when he goes back to the office.”

Kendou knocked the back of her hand against Monoma’s arm, the snap of contact audible to even you.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be so mean,” she said, “It’s as much their fault for being so lazy about who they assign to hybrids’ cases, as it is his.”

“Probably. I doubt they’ll see it that way, though.”

You stood silently while the two conversed with each other. In the corner of your eye, you caught the two prosecutors scurrying away but didn’t draw attention to them. You figured they’d been humiliated enough for one day. Instead, you waited for a gap in the conversation.

“Thanks for the hard work,” you said, bowing deeply, “Do you mind if I’m the one to tell Dabi-san and Shigaraki-san the good news?”

“Not at all,” Kendou said, matching your bow, “We’ll send a summary later in the week.”

Monoma bowed as well and you said goodbye, heading towards the exit. Just outside the court, Yaomomo was waiting for you, giving you a broad smile as you came in to view.

“Thank you,” she said, “We couldn’t have saved them without you.”

You waved off her thanks. “It was only the right thing to do.”

“Still, not many people would have stepped forwards so willingly.”

You gave her a crooked smile. Elation at having achieved your initial goal was fading, leaving you with reminder of why you’d been reluctant to take the two hybrids on. You’d already had to take time off work and notify various shelters you wouldn’t be able to take fosters — even emergency ones — for the foreseeable future. And that was before you’d even gotten Dabi and Shigaraki home.

“I’m not sure willing is the term I’d use,” you said. “These two are going to be a royal pain in the arse, I can tell.”

“I wish I could tell you otherwise,” Yaomomo said with a small smile, “But I suspect you might be right. Just make sure to look after yourself first and foremost. No putting your life at risk, this time.”

You breathed out slowly. “I won’t have a repeat of Akaguro-san, don’t worry. Once was more than enough.”

Yaomomo gave you an understanding smile. She knew just how much effort you’d made with him, only to have him turn on you at the first opportunity. It had hurt, and the investigation into the circumstances had only made you feel worse, even if it did exonerate you and Katsuki in the end. So, Yaomomo reached out and gave you a brief hug.

“Come on,” she said, “Let’s go tell them the good news.”

Chapter Text

It was early evening when you got to the safety of the shelter, over two hours past the last member of the public had been ushered out, but Yaomomo was happy to make an exception under the circumstances. The reception area was empty, bar two ladies on reception who were manning the phones. Yaomomo gave a short wave, which was politely returned, before you both disappeared behind the scenes towards the isolation ward.

Backstage, things were bustling as volunteers and staff set about giving dinner to the various hybrids in their care. Trolleys loaded with large meals moved at dangerous speeds and you had a few close calls making your way to see Dabi and Shigaraki. Yaomomo avoided them with practised ease, all the while maintaining her natural elegance: you were out of breath and carrying one or two scrapes as you pushed through the doors to the isolation ward. Yaomomo gave you an apologetic smile.

“It can get pretty hectic around meal time,” she said. “Lots to do in a short space of time.”

“S’fine,” you wheezed, “Just forgot why I avoid this time of day.”

“Do you need a minute?”

“No, no, I’m okay. I’m not that out of shape.”

True to your word, you were already breathing more easily. You straightened, wincing as the action pulled at one of the scrapes, but ignored it. It wasn’t bleeding, so it wasn’t any worse than the ache in your feet from wearing business-appropriate heels. You’d soon be home and could relax.

“Let’s go,” you said, “If I’m lucky we’ll be out before the clean up starts.”

Yaomomo gave a tickle of laughter and you both headed further into the ward.

Dabi and Shigaraki hadn’t been served their meal yet, judging the eager glint in their eyes which quickly soured into disappointment. You wanted to roll your eyes; they’d been told about the court date and knew you’d be by to let them know the outcome. But it was nice to know their continued survival was less important than the next meal.

“Evening, Dabi-san, Shigaraki-san,” you said, ignoring their disappointment, “Don’t look so glum. Food’s coming and I’ve got good news.”

Dabi chose to lean artfully against the far wall, just raising a single eyebrow at your comment, while Shigaraki huffed and disappeared to the room’s blindspot.

“So, I’m not dying yet, huh?” Dabi asked. “And I got you to thank for that, doll?”

“It was a combined effort,” you said, “Monoma-san absolutely demolished the case against you. The judge even said the whole thing was a waste of time and he’d be chewing out the prosecution office for bringing case to court. With any luck, it might make them more reluctant to just slap a destruction order on hybrids in future.”

Dabi cracked an unkind grin. “So, I ended up doing you a favour, then. Who knew murder could be so… uplifting?”

This time you did roll your eyes. God, help you and save you from wannabe edgelords.

“Self-defence,” you corrected. “And not me, personally, so get that idea out of your head. You’ve still got a long way journey ahead of you and I’m sorry, but it’s not going to be much fun.”

You heard a low hiss coming from the hidden corner and you couldn’t help the way your shoulders slumped. You wished you could just go ahead and free them, like a human who’d been cleared of murder, but hybrids were a different case. You couldn’t even give them free reign of their new home, not until you could guarantee they weren’t going to hurt you.

“Despite proving your innocence, Dabi-san, there’s a formal rehabilitation process for hybrids who have killed in self-defence. That‘ll begin once you’ve been transferred into my care, in about two weeks’ time.”

Dabi was already scowling. “Do we get a choice?”

His tone left no doubt that he already knew the answer. He and other hybrids didn’t get to make many decisions about their lives, and this wasn’t one of them. As much as you wanted to respect his wishes, this was as much out of your hands as it was his.

“I’m afraid not,” you said. “The destruction order was lifted, in no small part, because I’d be taking responsibility for you, rather than the shelter. There aren’t many people, even in pro-hybrid circles, who are willing and able to help you through rehab. Adding Shigaraki-san into the package narrows your prospects down even further.”

“Che. So we’re stuck with you.”

“For now,” you said. “If you make it through the process, you’ll be marked as available for fostering or adoption. So you could leave at that point, if you wanted. Shigaraki-san, your case is slightly different. You’ve not got the title of “human-killer” hanging over your head but I’ll still need to confirm you’d be fit to go elsewhere. To avoid separating the pair of you, I’m afraid you’ll be stuck on the same schedule for freedom as Dabi-san until you’re a bit better.”

Dabi shot you an angry look, trying to mask the confusion in his bright blue eyes.

“So we’re also gonna be stuck in a tiny room together, again?” he sneered. “Thought moving to yours was supposed to be an improvement.”

“You guys get a room each,” you said patiently, “They’re adjoining, with a door you can lock from either side, though I’d appreciate if you didn’t lock each other out until Shigaraki-san is happy to eat without your presence.”

“And if I do?” Dabi said, “If I want some goddamn privacy for once?”

“You have your own bathrooms,” you continued. “Which, again, can be locked. There’s a glass wall between you and the rest of the building but there are also shouji screens which can be drawn for privacy.”

“What about privacy from him?” Dabi barked, pointing to where you assumed Shigaraki was lurking. “What if I don’t want to be his fuckin’ babysitter?”

Shigaraki hissed with more venom than you’d ever heard from him. Dabi turned to him, so full of fury it was a wonder something hadn’t been set on fire.

“Yeah, you wanna go?” he challenged. “I’m sick of the fuckin’ sight of ya. It’s not a crime to want to sleep somewhere that ain’t covered in your shitty fur!”

From the blindspot leapt a blur of pale blue, launching itself straight at Dabi. The still humanoid hybrid barely managed to keep on his feet but grabbed hold of Shigaraki’s scruff and used it to prevent the snapping jaws closing on on a limb. With a grunt of effort, Dabi kicked out one of Shigaraki’s paws and used his momentary imbalance to throw the liger on his side. A growl escaped Dabi, his lips parting to show a set of sharp teeth too big for a human mouth as he partially shifted.

Yaomomo had jumped at the first flurry of movement, reaching for the emergency button on the wall. You’d grabbed her before she could reach it, knowing it’d bring several staff running with tranq-guns, and kept her grounded beside you. You’d met her confusion with a firm stare and a shake of your head.

The fight looked bad — two predators going at it was never pretty — but looks could be deceptive. Shigaraki hadn’t been aiming for vitals when he lunged, going for one of Dabi’s legs instead. Even now, when Dabi was crouching down to use a knee on Shigaraki’s neck to hold him in place, the hyena wasn’t using his full weight.

Which was a mistake on his part, as Shigaraki managed to get a paw between them and push Dabi off. Quick as lightning, Shigaraki was on Dabi’s back, aiming to close his teeth around his neck; another alarming move but was in fact not meant to maim. Dabi, however, managed to get his arms and legs underneath himself and shifted to his animal form. The slick transformation gave enough extra leverage to displace Shigaraki from his back, both of them rolling out of each others’ reach. Then they were up, circling each other, teeth on full display.

“It’s a dominance fight,” you told Yaomomo quietly. “They’re pretty evenly matched.”

Your friend still looked unsure, but you gave a thin smile.

Under normal circumstances, Shigaraki should have been kicking Dabi’s butt, simply due to the difference in size. Dabi as a hyena was much smaller, his skin a messy patchwork of purple burns and white fur. He didn’t look like much of a opponent against a liger. However, Dabi had the advantage of being fully healed, despite his ragged appearance, whereas Shigaraki was still underweight and carrying several wounds which were at risk of ripping open.

You sighed at the pair of them; both too stubborn to call it quits.

“I should head out,” you said at a normal volume. “This might take a while and I need to get home. Come on, show me to the front desk, by the time we’re there it’ll be time to send in one of the vets to check Shigaraki-san’s injuries.”

Yaomomo’s mouth opened to protest but you tugged her arm until both of you were out of isolation ward. She watched you with badly concealed concern and you tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“You’ve been stuck in your office too long,” you teased, “Forgotten how dominance fights work.”

“But it’s so dangerous,” she said. “One of them could die.”

You gave a slightly sardonic grin. “I doubt it. Despite what he said, Dabi-san is invested in Shigaraki-san’s survival. They may not be friends — and dominance fights happen between friends all the time — but they won’t kill each other.”

If they were pure animals, you’d have worried more, but being at least partly human made dominance fights a tricky thing. Not longer was it just about proving your worth, testing your strength, and deciding whether to bow out or continue the fight. Animals made that decision based on an instinctive risk-and-reward basis, but humans added pride to the mix. It was often a bad thing; fights started up over nothing and sometimes a hybrid decided they would rather die than concede. But it also had it’s good points.

“You’re sure?”

“If I was a betting woman, I’d put money on it.”

Hybrids also went into dominance fights weighing up the consequences of it. Would it affect their relationship? How likely was the loser to forgive them? Was it worth winning if it pushed their opponent to the brink of death because they wouldn’t give up?

The truth was neither Shigaraki nor Dabi were looking to kill their companion after they’d just ensured their mutual survival. More than likely, the dominance fight was simply a way to release all the built up pressure. A shift of focus from just survival to actually living.

Yaomomo still looked uncertain but you looped an arm through hers and brought her slowly towards the front desk. It was thankfully between feeding time and clean-up, so you walked unassailed into the reception area. You let your taller friend shuffle behind the desk and borrow one of the phones to call down to the veterinary area. Her face was grim, despite the cheerful tone on the other end of the phone, as she finished the call.

“You better be right about this,” she said sourly.

You shrugged. “When have I ever given you bum advice about hybrids?”

Yaomomo knew the answer was “never” but still, she grumbled as you exited the shelter.

You left with both a weight off your shoulders and exhaustion dragging you down. You couldn’t wait to get home.

Chapter Text

You were exhausted by the time you arrived home and could peel your sensible heels off your feet in the genkan. By the time you were in your slippers, Shouto was leaning against the wall, observing you in his quiet way.

“Tadaima,” you said, smiling weakly.

“Okaeri.”

He opened his arms and you gratefully fell into the hug. Shouto’s embrace was warm and you let him take the weight of you; you nearly groaned from the sense of comfort. Shouto had a swimmers’ build, broad shoulders but a tapered waist you could get your arms around comfortably. You admired Eijirou’s and Katsuki’s dedication to building muscle, but sometimes it felt like you were hugging a tree-trunk.

“How did it go?” he asked.

You gave a deep and prolonged sigh. It came up from your soul, through your mouth, and pooled down on the floor. Shouto hugged you a little tighter.

“I see, that well.”

The dry response had one corner of your mouth twitching upwards.

“It went fine,” you said, settling your weight back on your own two feet. “Monoma-san nearly bored the judge into compliance. The prosecution made fools of themselves. And at the end of the day, the destruction order got dismissed.”

Shouto let you pull away a little bit, enough to let you stand properly, but he still kept his arms looped around your shoulders.

“A successful day,” he summarised. “But you don’t seem pleased.”

“To be honest, I’d rather not talk about it.”

It had consumed all of your day and you’d already explained yourself to Yaomomo. You didn’t want to go over your reasoning again, at least not so soon. Shouto’s blank expression hinted at worry so you tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“I just need to change into comfortable clothes and vegetate for the rest of the evening,” you confessed. “I’m really tired.”

Shouto held out a hand and you took it, letting him lead you upstairs to your room. The house was quiet around you and you didn’t bump into anyone else. It was a little strange. Sure, the house was big but it wasn’t that big, especially with the heightened senses of your hybrid housemates.

“Where are the others?” you asked.

“Eijirou and Katsuki are in the gym,” Shouto said. “Izuku-kun has spent most of the day in his room and Hitoshi was watching a movie, last I saw him.”

All of that was fairly typical, even if you were normally greeted by a number of the guys. The gym was sound-proofed and Hitoshi’s hearing wasn’t as acute as the others. However…

“Is Izuku-kun all right?” you asked.

“Eijirou checked on him and Izuku said he was fine. Eijirou said he was moving the furniture and things around.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Is he messing around with blankets and pillows too?”

“Eijirou didn’t mention it. Why?”

He might be going into a rut, but you didn’t say that out loud.

All well as having an animal form, hybrids often retained a lot of the instincts and biological influences of their animal type. There were no hard and fast rules; they didn’t all suddenly go nuts in the springs, female hybrids often got periods instead of oestrus, but some bird hybrids did feel the need to fly south for the winter. One of the more common biological drives was an increased libido a couple of times a year. The signs varied from species to species but a lot of hybrids started messing with their homes to make a safe space for theoretical kids to be born in, mammals in particular. Rabbit hybrids were known to turn their beds into a fluffy nest of blankets and pillows, lined with worn clothes to provide comforting smells.

It was deeply instinctual, so hybrids went through the proper motions regardless of if there was a potential mate. However, it didn’t happen if the hybrid was under a lot of stress, mentally or physically. Izuku had only just come up to normal weight and he’d been with his previous abusive owner since before puberty. If he was going into a rut, it was probably going to be his first and you were worried about him muddling through his own. Without a bit of guidance from someone more experienced, the human part of Izuku could turn the natural event into something traumatising.

It couldn’t be you because Izuku was likely to be overly friendly towards his rut companion and you only had so much restraint. Katsuki was out and although Eijirou would be a good choice — patient, understanding Eijirou — Katsuki would absolutely have a fit over it. The pair had been sharing their ruts for several years now and although you didn’t know if either of them had romantic feelings for the other, Katsuki definitely got possessive. Neither Shouto nor Hitoshi had rut companions, as a rule, and the former was unlikely to ever to do so. Hitoshi, as a snake hybrid, had different urges and instincts during his rut but he might be Izuku’s only choice.

“Just had a thought, that’s all,” you said. “You going to wait out here while I change?”

Shouto nodded, “I’ll give you a massage.”

You held in a sigh. For the same reason Shouto would be unlikely to get involved in others’ ruts, you were tentative about accepting such an offer. It was all down to his previous owner but you gave him a searching look.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insisted.

You were still reluctant. When Shouto first arrived with you he had swung from severely touch-averse to being all over you and back again so fast it’d made your head spin. It had taken a long time to get it through to him that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to; even longer for him understand that you weren’t going to ask anything of him. There had been an awkward time between the two realisations where Shouto’s response to your indirect refusal had been to reply as he just had.

Thank god you hadn’t developed feelings for him by that point.

But that was all in the past. The only affection Shouto offered these days were hugs, snuggles, hand-holding, and the occasional massage. And it wasn’t your place to decide whether he was fully able to make the offer.

“Thank you,” you said, “I’ll be five minutes.”

Shouto nodded and you disappeared into your room. You changed out of your business attire and into a pair of thick leggings, soft socks, and a comfortable top. You knocked on the door and Shouto came in, leaving the door open behind him.

Generally you didn’t let the guys in. Your room was your space and you didn’t want to send mixed signals by inviting them. Hybrids or not, the guys were guys, and your heart wouldn’t be able to take any of them trying their chances. So if they came into your room, the door stayed open and any of them were free to come in at that time.

You settled down, cross-legged on your bed, and almost falling off as Shouto got on. He caught you easily, righting you before settling down behind you. His hands were blessedly warm as he settled them on your shoulders. You let out a sigh.

“What have you been up to today?” you asked.

Shouto started off gently and gave a contemplative hum.

“I’ve been thinking of taking another course,” he said, “So I was looking through the options.”

“Ooh,” you said happily, “What were you thinking about?”

The guys more freedom than most, living with you. They had access to a large garden where they could play in whatever form took their fancy, they could stream whatever they wanted to watch, pick up a hobby, and even had an allowance which they could spend however they wanted. You did your best to get them out of the house at least once a week; take them to see a movie, go out to the park or the library, something so they didn’t feel hemmed in inside the house. You even went so far as to persuade some local grassroots sports teams to let them join in on occasion, or get them onto courses with the understanding that they could learn and participate, even if they couldn’t actually get any qualifications.

There were limits as to what you could do with the current laws but you tried to get your hybrids as close to a normal life as you could. It meant teaching them to cook, to read and write, and basic mathematics. It meant encouraging them to keep learning, if only to satisfy their own curiosity. Eijirou might have struggled with the basics but he was currently wading through a course in a sports performance and enjoying it immensely. Hitoshi had done several in coding, and Katsuki had taken courses in traditional Japanese cooking, classic French cuisine, and was currently experimenting with Chinese dishes.

Shouto’s tastes were a little more eclectic. He’d studied calligraphy and flower arranging but he’d also dabbled in psychology and taken an interest in the laws of thermodynamics. So you never knew what kind of course he’d want to sign up to next.

“I wondering about getting some training in massage,” he said, digging his thumb into the knot at the base of your neck.

You groaned quietly, closing your eyes as you felt the knot beginning to give way. The bliss, as Shouto expertly hovered between causing both pain and pleasure, never failed to draw sounds from you even though you tried not to.

“You’re pretty awesome at it anyway,” you said, words slightly slurred.

Shouto chuckled quietly. A low sound which seemed to tug on your core even as you pushed the sensation away.

“Thank you,” he said, “But I learnt by trial and error. Formal instruction might help me improve, as well as some learn new techniques.”

He shifted his hands down to your shoulders again, going a little deeper on the big muscles leading up to your neck. You groaned again. Even as much as you despised how Shouto had learned how to give such a good massage, you were grateful for it. For all your money and luxuries, you still got stressed and tensed up without realising. You hadn’t had a bath in too long, leaving yourself to become a bundle of knotted muscle.

“Didn’t mean to make it sound like I was dismissing what you wanted,” you said, “You’re scrambling my brain a bit. You can have whatever course you want.”

“You didn’t,” Shouto said with some amusement. “And I know.”

He found a knot hiding by the top of your right shoulder blade. You mouth fell open and you moaned unrestrainedly for a moment, before biting your lip to hold the sound back. You had just enough brain capacity to be embarrassed. That’d been a legitimate sex noise, and Shouto’s chuckling didn’t help.

“You can let it out,” he said, voice breathy, “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” you said, groaning more quietly, “Sound like a bad porno.”

“It’s fine.”

Embroiled in your own embarrassment, you failed to notice Shouto’s breathing getting deeper and heavier each time you let out a noise. He listened intently each time you tried to muffle a groan, trying to find the angle which would get you to drop your guard again, but he was running out of tension to exploit. He didn’t want to stop though, he rarely got the chance to touch you like this any more. Too often one of the others would walk in and you’d be too embarrassed to continue with an audience, despite being oblivious to how much they enjoyed your sounds.

Even this was amount of touching barely soothed him, smoothing the rough edges of his feelings. He knew one day he’d end up snapping, it was inevitable. But touching you, hearing you moan out your pleasure, pushed that day back a little further.

“Do you want to lie down?” he offered. “I can do the rest of your back.”

You sigh, sorely tempted.

“Thanks but I’ll end up taking a nap if I’m any more relaxed,” you said, “Then my sleep schedule will be ruined for the next week.”

You tipped your head back, catching sight of Shouto from the corner of your eye. He was slightly flushed from the mild exertion and you gave him a grateful smile.

“But seriously, thanks,” you said, “I needed that.”

Shouto swallowed audibly. “Any time. Do you mind if I use your en suite quickly?”

“Sure, just make sure to put the seat down afterwards.”

Shouto let out a slow breath and eased himself off your bed, keeping his hips twisted away from you. You barely noticed though, stretching out the newly loosened muscles, as he slipped into your en suite to deal with his problem.

Chapter Text

There had been a lot to do before you could officially host Dabi and Shigaraki. You had a cottage on the grounds of your home outfitted for skittish or dangerous hybrids, but you hadn’t needed it for around a year so it had to be aired out and refreshed. Some construction work had been necessary to make it safe for Dabi and Shigaraki to share two rooms with a bathroom each. On top of that, you had had to sort out who was going to manning the cottage; as word got out about your newest fosters, you had suddenly found some of the cleaners and the more general staff you employed were too frightened to work there.

Most of this had been dealt with before the destruction order had even reached court but the staffing issue was an on-going problem. On one hand, you couldn’t fault people for being frightened of someone who’d killed; on the other, you absolutely didn’t want Dabi and Shigaraki to be around humans who flinched every time they moved. They wouldn’t be able to move on from the incident if they were constantly reminded of it.

In some twisted trick of fate, the dominance fight had resulted in a few new scratches and bites, and so you got an extra week to sort things out. Some of the more reluctant parties outright quit, some of them were prepared to work as long as Dabi and Shigaraki were confined to their rooms, some of them would have to be pulled out of rotation for the cottage all together. By the time you sorted it out, there were just barely enough staff to cover the shifts. It was likely the ones who remained would be overstretched, almost as stressed as you were, and prone to illness. Let alone what would happen if Dabi and Shigaraki made more mess than you were accounting for. Still, you got there eventually, and you’d just have to worry about the potential damage once you had more time to breathe.

The day they arrived, you were waiting anxiously at your property’s side gate, ready to open it for the transport. You could have let the member of your security team on the gate handle it but you couldn’t settle. Having one of your guys with you would have solved that problem but the cottage was off-limits to them for a reason; new hybrids could be incredibly sensitive to the smells of the others in their new territory and you’d already had to turn down hugs to avoid agitating Dabi and Shigaraki. You fiddled uselessly with your phone and you could swear you were feeling some withdrawal symptoms from the lack of physical affection.

Only once the transport was past your gates and Aizawa hopped out of the cab did you begin to relax. He gave you a tired wave and joined you in the short walk to the cottage. You directed the guys from the shelter to let the pair into either the first or second room and let them get on with the transfer process. Shigaraki was still in animal form as he walked through the caged tunnel connecting the transport and the side doors of the cottage, but at least he hadn’t had to be sedated. Dabi sauntered after him, flipping you the bird when he caught sight of you watching.

“Lovely,” commented your new full-time vet.

You let yourself crack a smile as you waited for Dabi to fully enter his new home so you could slide the door shut.

“Sorry, Shuuzenji-sensei,” you said, “That’s probably as polite as Dabi-san gets.”

“No need for you to apologise, dear. It’s not your fault.”

Shuuzenji Chiyo was a wonderful mixture of direct and forgiving. She wouldn’t take any nonsense but she also didn’t hold a grudge; perfect for working with difficult hybrids. She’d been like a grandmother to you for many years, teaching you much of what you knew about hybrid veterinary, and you’d coaxed her into delaying her retirement for just a little while longer. How long would depend on how well Dabi and Shigaraki responded to attempts at rehabilitation but that was a discussion for a year’s time.

You shrugged. “But I am responsible for him.”

“Speaking of,” Aizawa said, holding out a clipboard for you. “Here’s the paperwork. Last chance to back out of this, Date-kun.”

You chuckled humourlessly as you took the board in hand. You both knew you weren’t going to back out at this stage. No one could claim you gave up easily.

“All signed,” you said, “Can you stay for some coffee, or do you have to get back?”

“The latter, I’m afraid,” Aizawa sighed. “I’ve got to get this to Yaoyorozu-kun as soon as possible. She said she’ll call you tonight to see how they’re settling in.”

“Hope she’s not expecting too much,” Shuuzenji said, “This is going to be a long term-project.”

You gave her a lop-sided smile at her protective attitude. Shuuzenji had always believed you worked too hard, and were too forgiving about people taking up your time. However, she didn’t know Yaomomo like you did.

“She’s probably going to be checking up on how I’m coping,” you explained, “Rather than Dabi-san and Shigaraki-san. Sometimes she needs to make it sound professional, but we’re friends.”

“Ah, I see. Well, speaking of new friends, I should introduce myself. Will you be coming Nami-san?”

“Yes, just give me time to let Aizawa and the transport out and I’ll be right with you.”

It took no more than ten minutes and then you were leading Shuuzenji into the cottage. It had an odd layout; to accommodate easy access, the bedrooms and bathrooms were on the ground floor with the former each having individual doors leading outside and inside. The kitchen was also downstairs but the dining and living areas were upstairs, alongside two offices; one for yourself and an office/clinic for Shuuzenji.

Introductions between those who’d be working semi-permanently in the cottage didn’t take much time, so you moved on to the bedrooms. There were three in total, a wall of tempered glass between you and the hybrids with shouji either side of it for privacy. From your side, you could slide the panels across the entire expanse of the room but from the other side there was a small exception; there was a cubby indented into the glass wall at ground level which you could sit or lie down in comfortably, giving the illusion that you were in the room whilst still maintaining your safety. The western style doors leading further into the cottage were solid but allowed food and parcels to be passed into the rooms. The only place truly hidden from view were the bathrooms, with the exception of the third room which you used for hybrids on suicide watch.

You and Shuuzenji walked up to the two rooms Dabi and Shigaraki were sharing, finding the pair in the more feline-outfitted room to the right. Shigaraki had climbed into the giant cat tree and Dabi was staring at the installation incredulously. The latter schooled his expression as he heard you approach, turning so he was facing the back wall.

“Morning, Dabi-san, Shigaraki-san,” you said, “How are you both?”

The liger hissed at you but the sound was belied by the way he lounged in the cat tree’s fluffy enclosed space. Dabi didn’t turn but at least he answered verbally.

“New digs; same prison.”

“Sorry about that,” you said. “You guys have to be in quarantine for two weeks but after you’ve been cleared, you’ll have access to the garden in the afternoons. The more you co-operate with the paperwork side of things, the more freedom I can give you.”

“This’ll still be a prison,” Dabi sneered. “Even if we’re good little hybrids and do everything you say.”

You sighed. “I know. We’re working on changing the law but in the meantime, I’ll try my best to make it feel less constricting.”

“Whatever. Who’s the old bag?”

“Ah, this is Shuuzenji-sensei,” you said, ignoring the insult, “She’ll be in charge of your physical health. I’ve also got a counsellor who’ll come in once a week to chat to you guys, should you want to.”

“Good morning, boys. I’ll let you settle in today but I’ll be by tomorrow morning to see if you’re willing to fill in any of the blanks in your medical history.”

Dabi just sighed.

“I’ll also be giving you some space,” you said, “Just to let you know, the remotes for your TVs are in your bedside tables, along with a tablet each. Those are largely set up for you and there’s several bookmarked websites on the browser. All of those sites have an account and credit for you to use; get whatever you want. In a couple of days I’ll have your proper bank accounts set up and you’ll have access to a monthly allowance. If you go above and beyond that, I’m willing to negotiate.”

Dabi looked over his shoulder at you, one bright blue eye piercing through you.

“Hybrids can’t have bank accounts,” he said.

“The accounts will be nominally mine,” you said with a shrug, “But you’ll each get a card with your name on and I won’t touch the accounts or correspondences related to it. The cards will require full names though, so Dabi-san, if you want a specific name, please let me know. If not I’ll use Daredare or something similar.”

“And we can order whatever we want?”

“Within reason,” you said, “If you order a weapon of some kind, it’ll be thrown away, but that’s a rule for my entire household, not just you guys. You’ll be receiving your orders directly and you’ll have to open them yourselves, so don’t bother order glitter or stink bombs.”

The sliver of Dabi’s face, which you could see, cracked into a vicious grin.

“Oh trust me,” he said, “If I planned on pranking you, it’d be something much less juvenile.”

From behind three inches of reinforced glass, the threat didn’t hold much weight. But you filed away the information for later, just in case.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “Food and snacks will be provided, so just let me or one of my employees know if you want anything in particular. There are various people working here at the cottage and—”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Dabi said.

He turned to face you, holding up a palm as though to physically stop you from continuing. His expression was guarded, almost angry, and you stopped in shock. You had no idea what had caused the sudden left-turn in Dabi’s attitude.

“In what fucking universe,” he said, “Is this place a cottage?”

You opened your mouth and closed it, not sure what the big deal was. The “cottage” was probably the same size of a modest suburban home, having been enlarged with all the renovations to make it a suitable halfway house for hybrids. The ceilings were high and the rooms were big to make sure the occupants wouldn’t feel too trapped, and so it could accommodate hybrids in either animal or human form. You only called it “the cottage” to differentiate it from the main house where you and your adopted hybrids lived.

Shuuzenji chuckled knowingly. “You’ll have to forgive her, she tries to stay in touch with the reality of ordinary people but sometimes she slips up.”

Your face flushed. “I know it isn’t an actual cottage. It’s just easier to call it that than the second, smaller house, or whatever.”

“Of course, dear. Though I suppose it is cottage-sized compared to the mansion you live in.”

“Sensei,” you said, barely holding back a whine. “I still have to explain some things.”

“Oh, forgive me for interrupting,” she said with a benevolent smile, “You carry on, dear.”

You sighed, aware your image of professionalism was gone. You turned your attention back to Dabi and Shigaraki. At least the former was still facing you, even if he was scowling.

“The people who work here are employees, not servants,” you told them. “You can request, and they’ll do their best to comply, but you can’t order them around. I don’t tolerate harassment from anyone, so let me know if any of them make you uncomfortable; similarly, if you deliberately make their lives difficult, there will be consequences.”

“Consequences,” Dabi repeated with a scoff. “What are you going to do, sweetcheeks? Hit me? ‘Cause that didn’t work out so well for the last guy.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You weren’t that type of person but it’d take a long time for Dabi to truly understand that.

You shook your head. “I don’t go in for corporal punishment. You’ll just lose privileges.”

Dabi raised his eyebrows, a mocking smile on his face.

“Not much of a threat, dollface. I’ve done without privileges before.”

You didn’t doubt it. In fact, you’d bet on the pair of them rarely getting their basic rights, let alone anything more. So, revoking privileges wouldn’t do much, at first. However, it was surprising just how quickly people acclimatised to creature comforts, and how disjointed they felt when they got taken away.

“It’s not a threat, just reality,” you said. “As for if it affects you or not, we’ll just have to see, though I hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

Dabi just shook his head, amused by your apparent naïvety.

“Anyway, I hope you guys can relax a bit for the rest of the day,” you said, holding back a sigh. “Lunch will be with you in a few hours. Ah, one thing before I go, how are you guys for reading and writing?”

Dabi stiffened and tension permeated the room.

Education amongst hybrids was spotty at best; without any formal education set up for them, many owners didn’t have the time to teach their hybrids even the basics. Then there was the subsection of owners who didn’t want an educated hybrid, who felt reading and writing were a few steps too close to human.

“What’s it to ya?” he asked, a growl edging his voice.

“I don’t insist on much for my hybrids,” you said gently. “You don’t have to like me or get on with the others, you don’t have to dress a certain way, or anything like that. However, I do insist on a basic education — reading, writing, basic maths — and learning how to cook some easy dishes. The cooking can wait until you make it into the main house, but we can get started on the rest. If you’re already confident, you can just test out and I’ll leave you alone about it.”

The silence continued for a few minutes before you decided to leave it be. There was no rush. Their rehabilitation would take over six months, no matter how co-operative they were.

“Well, you can tell me later,” you said. “Bye for now, guys, I’ll be in after Shuuzenji-sensei has spoken to you.”

“See you tomorrow, boys,” Shuuzenji chimed.

You walked away, leaving them to their own devices. Shuuzenji decided to stay and check out her little clinic but you left after a few more social niceties. It was the weekend and Katsuki’s turn to cook lunch; you were looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

Two weeks later and you had somewhat of an answer to your query. At the very least, Dabi was functionally illiterate; he was perfectly able to guide himself through the various streaming services and find the raunchiest sex scenes available, turning the volume up to maximum and playing them on repeat.

Most of the people employed at the cottage were sturdy middle-aged women and they seemed to find Dabi’s attempts to annoy them rather comedic, bless their souls. True, he hadn’t done anything truly problematic — like flashing them, or threatening them — but he’d still made a few vulgar suggestions about where Shuuzenji and others could stuff their concerns for him. You had still apologised, given them all a raise and promised you’d be employing more colleagues so they didn’t have to cover so many shifts. They had all — including Shuuzenji — waved off your apology and laughed, saying their own kids had been just as bad, if not worse.

In comparison Shigaraki was practically a saint. Sure, he’d deliberately smashed his tablet, hissed and roared at everyone, and had lunged at you in the glass cubbyholes more than once. But you could afford to replace the tablet and at least he did it relatively quietly, preferring his own company for the most part. He still hadn’t transformed into his human form, though you’d glimpsed him changing a single hand to make use of his opposable thumb. You had a tentative hope he was doing similar when no one was watching; the only cameras in the cottage were aimed at room three, so you couldn’t be sure.

Your thoughts were interrupted as a pair of arms curled around your waist. Lavender scales covered the backs of pale hands, emerging from long lavender sleeves. You smiled as you were brought closer to a lithe body, tilting your head back against it to catch sight of his face as he loomed over you. You placed one hand on top of his, feeling the relative coolness of his skin. That would have told you, even without looking at his face, that your snake hybrid was in his half form.

“Hey there,” you said.

“Hey yourself,” Hitoshi answered, a slight lisp due to his forked tongue.

That first hug, just two months ago, had been the initial crack which broke the dam. Now, Hitoshi sought out physical contact with you as just as much Izuku and Eijirou did, often appearing out of thin air to drape himself over you as though he were in his animal form. You were pleased with the change and, seeing as it hadn’t ruffled too many feathers, you were happy to let him continue. Even if you did wonder where this side of him had been hiding all this time.

“You going to stay up here all afternoon?” he asked.

You were currently standing in one of the less used rooms on the third storey. The room was cold and a bit musty but it had an unparalleled view of your garden, allowing you to watch the cottage.

“No,” you sighed, “Just want to see them walk outside the first time. Then I’ve got work to do.”

Dabi and Shigaraki had been cleared by Shuuzenji yesterday, making this the first day the pair would have access to the wider property. It was empty; the gardeners had cleared out, all of your hybrids were barred after lunch, and your employees had evacuated to the main house until Dabi and Shigaraki’s time outside was up. Emergencies during this time would be tricky, at least for as long as you couldn’t rely on the pair to retreat to their rooms on request. You could only hope things would go well.

To say you were tense was like saying an ocean was big. And this would happen everyday until they could be trusted not to harm others.

“You not getting work done with them around?” Hitoshi asked.

“With Dabi’s interference? Not a chance,” you groused. “I can barely concentrate long enough to read on my phone, let alone actual accountancy.”

“Well, with any luck, he’ll grow out of it.”

“I’ve got to hope so,” you said, “Ah, here they come.”

You could see their doors slide open and Dabi, in his hybrid form, burst through the moment he was able. You hadn’t seen his hybrid form since you’d witnessed the dominance fight between him and Shigaraki. As soon as Dabi was out, his purple and white form was loping to the nearest tree-cover and out of view. You could hear a few yips in the distance.

Shigaraki, however, stayed inside for so long you thought he might have gone to sleep instead of taking the chance to get outside. Even when he did make an appearance, he merely stuck his head out, huffing the air, before retreating back inside.

“Oh come on,” you said as he left, “You’ve been stuck inside for over two months. What gives?”

“That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

You sighed and nodded. Honestly, you had half expected it from Shigaraki. His more cautious nature would be likely to stay inside until Dabi had cleared the space and maybe beyond. Still, you were concerned about his lack of enthusiasm.

“I was just hoping against hope,” you confessed. “His liger instincts must be tearing him up inside.”

The rooms in the cottage were big but no where near big enough to provide a permanent home for such a large predator. They’d been designed on the premise that the hybrids would have access to the garden and if Shigaraki wasn’t going to use it willingly, he’d start developing more health issues.

“It’s just one day,” Hitoshi said, comfortingly running his hands over your arms. “There’s always tomorrow.”

You sighed. He was right, and you couldn’t stay watching the entire afternoon. You had work to do and then you’d have to oversee getting the pair back into their rooms for the night. Fun, fun, fun.

“Hey,” Hitoshi said softly, “While you’re working, would you mind if I cuddled up to you?”

You blinked, finally turning around in his embrace. The upper half of Hitoshi’s body wasn’t much different in his half form compared to his human form; the lavender scales had crept around to cover his throat and encroached along his jawline, his tongue was permanently forked, and something made his features more angular than usual. Most people, if they couldn’t see the tail which had taken place of his hips downwards, wouldn’t have been able to tell. Though the tail pretty hard to ignore.

In animal form, Hitoshi was larger than a regular ball python — full eight feet, compared to the usual maximum of six — and in half form, the tail was in proportion to his human waist. It was long enough that it was too much hassle to even measure and Hitoshi had to spend some time winding it around himself so he wasn’t trailing all the way round the house. Despite its impracticality, Hitoshi seemed to enjoy being in his half form, not experiencing any of the discomfort other hybrids reported. But he usually kept the changing to the confines of the summer and early autumn. It was now the middle of the season and Hitoshi’s cool skin was evidence of why he usually did so.

And now you were worried for an entirely new reason.

“Do you need me?” you asked. “I can put off the work for one more day; the only urgent bit is approving a letter before the HRA send it out.”

Hitoshi gave you his usual lop-sided smile and shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, “Just wouldn’t mind some skin to skin contact for a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s absolutely fine. Can we still be in my office?”

Hitoshi nodded and the pair of you set out to the room in question. While you settled behind your desk, Hitoshi laid his upper half on the beanbag and began bringing the rest of his tail in with you both. By the time you were comfortable, Hitoshi was taking up most of the available space and the end of his tail was winding its way up your right leg.

Contrary to his request for skin contact, he went over your jeans at first, spirally around your leg but not covering it completely. A loop of his tail wrapped around your upper thigh, brushing up against your other leg and almost touching the junction between them before he made to loop around your waist. This time the tapered tail nudged its way under your shirt, making contact with a tiny sliver of your skin as it continued to move. In contrast to their public image, snake’s scales weren’t slimy or cold; Hitoshi’s tail was smooth and a little cool at first contact, like soft leather, before he began warming up against you. Finally, he settled, tucking the very last inch of his tail inside the front of your waistband.

You raised an eyebrow at him and were met with a cheeky grin. A matching one was already twitching at the corners of your mouth, even as you tried to school your features into disapproval.

“Just the tip,” he defended, holding up his little finger.

You contained your laughter at the slightly off-colour joke but couldn’t fight the smile any longer. You tried to hide it by shaking your head, though you doubted you were fooling anyone.

“If I lean forwards,” you warned him, “You’ll get squished.”

Hitoshi shrugged. “I’m willing to risk it.”

You rolled your eyes at him and went about your work, trying not the think about your right leg being slightly higher on the seat than the left. Hitoshi, confirming that you were really getting down to it, pulled out his phone from under his jumper and began to while away the time.

It was about fifteen minutes later when you began to feel Hitoshi’s grip on your lower body getting a bit tighter. Nothing painful, mind you, the fit was just a bit more snug and — most noticeably — that coil which had been teasing distance from the crotch of your jeans was no longer acting so shy.

You looked up, a flush on your cheeks, and noticed Hitoshi was engrossed with something on his phone. The tightening was obviously subconscious so you took a moment to compose yourself before clearing your throat to get his attention. Hitoshi failed to notice, so you put your hand on his tail. The muscles jumped under your palm, jerking your leg as it squeezed tight, momentarily too tight. Ball pythons were a constrictor type, and even the thin end of Hitoshi’s tail was very strong. Thankfully, this time he noticed his own actions and grimaced.

“Sorry,” he said, loosening his hold, “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know, it’s okay,” you said, “What are you looking at? You were already tightening up before I touched you.”

Hitoshi immediately avoided your eyes and held his phone closer to his chest. Even as someone who usually had a hard time reading human body language, you could tell he’d been looking at something he didn’t want you to know about.

“Toshi-kun?” you asked softly, “I’m not going to be mad, I promise.”

The tops of his cheeks, still as yet uncovered by his pale purple scales, flushed.

“I know that,” he grumbled. “It’s nothing important. Just some puff piece on a guy who wants to marry his hybrid.”

You raised both eyebrows. You hadn’t seen the news that morning but you’d have heard if someone new was wading into the fight for hybrids’ rights. There were currently way too many legal barriers for a proper marriage, let alone all the prejudice the first human-hybrid married couple would face. But then there were plenty of instances of someone “marrying” something outside of the law.

“Puff piece?” you asked. “Not a serious attempt then?”

Hitoshi huffed. “No, they’re treating it like that lady who married the Eiffel Tower.”

You nodded, having expected as much.

“Pity,” you said, “That step of the fight is too far away as it is without the media treating it like a joke.”

Hitoshi stiffened, then looked at you through narrow eyes.

“You’re okay with hybrids and humans getting married?” he asked.

“Not as things stand,” you said, “But once hybrids have the same rights as humans, it would be fine, I think. The major hurdle to that would be questions about children but they’re already happening, and they’re stable, by all accounts. So, yeah, I think that’ll be my next project once I’ve made sure you guys can live normal lives.”

“Do you think you’d do it?” he asked, “Marry a hybrid?”

A nervous laugh burst out your throat. God, you would love to, you already had five candidates in mind.

“Probably my only chance at getting married,” you half-joked.

Hitoshi stared at you hard, not laughing or ribbing you like he normally would. Your stomach twisted and you squirmed a little under his stare. Clearly he had been looking for a serious answer.

“Well, yeah,” you said quietly, still unable to meet his gaze. “Provided one wanted to marry me, I’d probably go for it.”

Hitoshi hummed quietly, finally turning his attention back to his phone. He murmured something but the distance made it difficult to make out. It might have been just wishful thinking, though you could have sworn he’d said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stared at his side profile, trying to make sense of what you’d thought you’d heard. A small squeeze of Hitoshi’s coils around your leg brought you back to reality.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Hitoshi drawled.

You ducked down behind your monitor, trying to hide the furious blush on your face. Work, work, you should definitely be working. Damn hybrids and their distractingly pretty faces.

Chapter Text

Dabi didn’t come inside for five days straight. With plenty of clean water available, it took his rumbling stomach to guide him back to the cottage. Which would have been fine, if Shigaraki had also gone with him. As it was, everyone was stuck being ferried to and from the cottage in small batches to feed Shigaraki or for you to sit with him in the mornings. The guys were effectively trapped inside for the duration and while you tried to get them out of the house in other ways, you could tell they missed their own space. Everyone was feeling grouchy by the time Dabi returned and even your patience was wearing thin.

The morning after Dabi returned, you were sat in the cubby of Shigaraki’s room. Dabi, unusually, was laying out in his hyena form having gorged at breakfast, and you were taking the quiet reprieve to do some work. You could just about see Dabi through the adjoining door, his lighter fur sporadic compared to the big patches of purple, leathery skin. Lying there, he looked blissed out, content; certainly the poorly treated burns didn’t appear to be hurting him. However, you couldn’t stop a twinge of sympathy every time you let your gaze wander above your laptop’s screen.

You were prepared to spend the morning gently, for the first time since the pair arrived, but you slowly became aware of a noise emanating from Shigaraki. It started as a growl but gained momentum into a snarl. You tried to ignore him at first but the sound was getting on your last nerve, especially when he’d approached until he was practically pressed against the glass barrier.

Shigaraki might have been underweight but he was still around three hundred pounds and taller than you while you were sat in the cubby. While the reinforced glass could withstand a small missile, it seemed an incredibly thin barrier between you and the liger. Still, it afforded you some bravery and the intimidation tacit was the last straw. Keeping your eyes firmly on your laptop, you flipped the bird at him.

In response, he made an extended roar in your ear.

You flinched from the volume, covering your ears to try and lessen the damage to your eardrums. By the time Shigaraki stopped you were glaring at him, finally giving him the attention he apparently wanted. The silence afterwards had a slight ring to it, and you could hear Dabi’s laughter-like barks. Or maybe it was just plain laughter, filtering through a hyena’s vocal cords.

Privately, you retracted your previous sympathy.

““Rawr” to you too, arsehole,” you said dryly. “Did you need something?”

Shigaraki looked positively smug but nothing like an answer or an attempt at communication was made. He just chuffed a couple of times before turning and peeing, aiming squarely at you.

You closed your eyes at the display, praying silently for patience.

You were still praying for patience when you were back in the main house, having had lunch with your hybrids. Generally the guys were pleased to have been able to get out in the garden again, though Katsuki was still swearing up a storm about Dabi marking the entire garden as his territory. Especially given you’d ask your guys to limit their own markings to the half of the garden nearest the house.

“Fuckin’ extra thinks he can waltz in and take over,” he seethed. “Well, I ain’t gonna let ‘em. I’m gonna piss in their fucking faces the next time I see them.”

Most of the guys, plus you, were simply trying to tune out the grizzly’s rant. There was very little point in trying to call him to order once he got this worked up but Eijirou, bless his soul, still did.

“Chill out, Katsu-kun,” he said, trying to laugh off the matter. “We knew they were gonna do this from the start.”

Territorial disputes between hybrids were complex, made no less so by their human sides. If it was down to the animals, hybrids would only care about those who would compete for resources. Sometimes odd friendships were made — like Dabi and Shigaraki — or miniature “packs” formed, but it was generally a good idea not to group hybrids by species. A bear and a hyena didn’t have overlapping needs for resources, so if you put them in the same environment, they’d probably scrap for a bit and then leave each other alone. However, human traits and personalities played a major role in the decision making. Therefore with Katsuki’s short fuse and Dabi’s tendency to shit-stir, it was never going to be easy to get them to settle in the same house.

“That patch-face fucker pissed on the back porch!”

You sighed, reminding yourself that this was just part of the normal process. Particularly with male hybrids, there needed to be a few fist fights before things got easier. Unfortunately, the guys and your new fosters being on different timetables only prolonged the agony. And there was a lot of paperwork to fill out before you could even consider them all meeting face-to-face.

You heard Shigaraki roar in the background. He’d done it several times now and although you’d called the cottage to see if anything was wrong, the reports contained nothing to indicate it. Apparently the liger was finally eager to get out, roaring at the closed door. Yet this knowledge didn’t seem to reassure you.

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, trying to placate him, “It’s not a big deal, they’re just testing boundaries.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that, Deku! How can you just sit there when Nami comes back smelling of cat piss?”

Your eyes flew wide open at that one. You might have lived with hybrids all your life and were used to the blurred lines between human and animal, but you still had standards for yourself.

“I smell of what?” you asked incredulously.

The guys cringed on your behalf. Even Katsuki’s apparent indignation took a hit, making him look a little sheepish. He, better than anyone, knew how sensitive you got about how you smelled.

“It was barely there,” Eijirou rushed to reassure you, “And it’s gone now.”

Sure, the rooms in the cottage wasn’t exactly air-tight, but you had been thoroughly protected by the glass between you and Shigaraki. You’d never have guessed you’d carry the scent all the way back in the house, even with the guys’ enhanced sense of smell.

“Is that why you guys insisted on extra hugs?” you asked, your voice high with distress. “To get rid of the scent?”

None of them would meet your gaze, except Hitoshi who watched you expression out of the corner of his eye.

“How did that happen, anyway?” the snake hybrid asked. “You didn’t go in one of their rooms, did you?”

You scowled at him. “No, I didn’t. It was just Shigaraki being a jerk. He roared in my ear and then pissed on the cubby while I was in it. I’m honestly shocked you guys can tell.”

Shouto looked up, concern on his face.

“He tried to urinate on you?” he asked.

“No,” you said, then hesitated. “I mean, he pissed at the glass, I was on the other side.”

The aforementioned liger roared again. Now all of your hybrids were looking concerned and turning in their chairs to face the source of the noise. You watched them, a creeping sense of caution holding your tongue still.

“They’ll be let out in fifteen minutes,” Izuku said, in a rare moment of seriousness.

“Should we move to the back door?” Eijirou asked.

Katsuki nodded and the group got up as one, leaving you to stagger after them.

“Guys?” you asked. “What’s going on?”

They didn’t answer and you followed them to the family living room. The guys positioned themselves where they could see through the large windows, staring intently out at the porch and the back garden beyond. The only one who sat further back was Hitoshi, perching on a seat which gave a good view out of the back door, and he snagged your waist as you came through. Before you knew it, he’d moved over one seat and put you where he’d been previously, his gaze wandering along the windows and glass back door.

You kept quiet, pulling out your phone to check the time. Ten minutes to go, then five, then just one more minute. The guys tensed a moment before you heard it: another roar from Shigaraki, no longer muffled by the walls of the cottage. He was outside.

Normally, you’d be relieved — even the entirety of your garden was a little small for a liger’s territory — but you trusted the instincts of your hybrids. You hadn’t previously thought Shigaraki was a threat, beyond the obvious, so you wondered what you’d missed.

Just as you were about to ask, you caught sight of the liger in question. He was scenting the air, then in the next moment, he was sprinting at full speed towards the house. You almost flinched back at the sight but he halted just the other side of the porch, chuffing and making noises. Shigaraki paid no attention to the guys, who were mostly close to the windows, and instead seemed to be staring straight at you as his vocalisations continued.

You stood up, your legs surprisingly shaky, and walked towards the back door. It wasn’t entirely glass, two panes with a band of oak-covered steel across the centre, but it gave you more than enough room to view Shigaraki. You stood about foot behind it and he seemed to take that as permission to get on the porch and stand just the other side. More vocalisations continued, and an uncomfortable theory started to form in your mind. It was about the right time of the month for you but it seemed such an unlikely possibility. Then again, from what little records had been found for Shigaraki, it appeared he’d lived in male-only homes growing up.

Knowing just how sturdy the door was, and comforted the presence of your hybrids who were watching closely, you crouched down to Shigaraki’s level and placed your hand on the cool glass. Almost immediately, Shigaraki started rubbing his face against the glass. When that didn’t produce a satisfactory response, he backed up to slink his entire length along the panel.

You sighed, about to let your hand drop from the glass when you were suddenly lifted away from behind. Strong arms banded across your stomach, a low growl emanating just above your head as you were manhandled away from the door.

“Shouto!” you protested.

Your wolfdog hybrid was staring Shigaraki down, snarling through still-human teeth, as he dragged you back. You turned to the others, looking for assistance, to find them lined up beside Shouto, all giving Shigaraki a similar gaze. Even Izuku looked angry; a startling expression on his normally soft features.

“Guys, calm down,” you pleaded. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Like fuck he doesn’t,” Katsuki growled.

Eijirou nodded. He seemed to be calmer than his friend but his jaw was clenched as he looked down at Shigaraki.

“Nami-chan, that’s straight up courting behaviour,” Eijirou said. “He’s not even being subtle about it.”

You sighed. “He probably doesn’t know how to be subtle about it. I don’t think he’s been around many women — hybrid or human — and certainly not one that was ovulating.”

The lows growls cut off, half-strangled by your frank statement. They all looked at you in varying degrees of shock, Izuku turning a bright shade of pink. You rolled your eyes.

“You guys don’t need to be coy about it,” you said, “I know you can smell it; I’m not that oblivious.”

Now all of them were blushing, though Izuku was the reddest by far. You didn’t know why; the ability to smell a potential mate was an invaluable asset to most animal species, especially ones which didn’t copulate at a specific time of year. There were studies where even plain old humans subconsciously picked up on a woman’s pheromones, giving more tips to strippers who were at the right point in their cycle. The guys couldn’t help smelling your body’s sexual availability, it was simple biology, and they were very polite about the whole thing. The worst reaction had been when some of your hybrids and fosters got a bit clingy during their younger days, so you’d long come to terms with the fact they knew when you were ovulating, on your period, or somewhere in between.

“Honestly, it’s probably my fault,” you said. “I’ve never needed contraception for the usual reasons, but I’ll make an appointment if this is going to be an on-going issue.”

You’d always been lucky with your period — regular, relatively short, and well within the levels of pain that over-the-counter medicine could deal with — and your romantic relationships with humans tended to peter out before you got to sex. You’d only done the deed with a partner a handful of times, usually while experimenting with friends, so you’d never considered using anything more than condoms. However, regulating your hormonal cycle was no bad thing.

Your thought process was interrupted by the sound of claws on glass. You turned your attention to the back door to find Shigaraki had stood up on his hind legs, balancing his weight against the door… and showing off his genitalia. You sighed and pulled out your phone.

“Yeah, I’m gonna get that appointment now.”

Chapter Text

Even though you’d been sort of expecting it, Izuku going into a rut for the first time caught you by surprise. You were still juggling work, Shigaraki’s reaction to your time of the month, and trying to get an appointment with your doctor. You barely had a day to explain to what the next week would be like for him and to hurriedly ask Hitoshi if he’d kindly guide Izuku through the process.

The snake hybrid’s cheeks had grown pink at the request. “I was… already planning to.”

Ohhh. You had seen the pair chatting by themselves a couple of times but you hadn’t realised Hitoshi had had an ulterior motive. The knowledge had made you grin widely and wish him the best of luck.

“It’s just a rut,” he’d replied, even pinker in the cheeks. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Thankfully, you’d had a new set of rut-assist toys waiting for such an occasion. It sounded crass but it was the reality of living with male hybrids; you had a standard order with an online stop so you could replace the waiting set, usually when a fostered hybrid went through their rut, but this one would be going to Izuku permanently. You replaced personal sets every couple of years, taking into account individual tastes, but Izuku would be getting the whole box for his first time.

Generally, a rut could be more easily handled than a female hybrid’s heats. Both came and went in waves, but the guys were largely lucid. Although their inhibitions went out the window at onset of each new wave, they could still text for food and essentials after the wave passed and they’d had a nap. Still, just in case, sports drinks and water were piled into the room before the rut hit; used clothes from members of the family were offered and integrated into the hybrid’s “nest”, including a top or two from you. When the rut actually hit, their door was locked and the key placed with either their rut-companion or your chefs so they could deliver the meals. The guys were fine when they were freshly woken up, with just over three hours of true lucidity before their urges took over again, so things could be handed over easily enough even when they were riding it out on their own.

The only real problem was when Izuku tried to pull you into his room to show you his nest. From anyone else, it would have been an invitation to ride out his rut with him, but you doubted Izuku had that kind of clarity about his current instincts. However, accepting would still be a mistake because when you ultimately turned down any urging to enter the nest or any attempts to get you to stay in the room, you’d end up hurting him more because of his vulnerable state. So you politely turned down the invitation, despite his long ears drooping, and gave his room key to Hitoshi.

Thankfully, Izuku went in without a fuss and when Hitoshi emerged the next day to grab food for them he reported Izuku was adjusting well. It was a relief to you, a mishandled first rut or heat could seriously damage a hybrid’s mental and physical health. With the massive delay in Izuku’s development, you were expecting it to hit him harder and longer that the others, so it was particularly important it went well. You probably wouldn’t see your bunny hybrid for another eight days at least.

So, when you opened your door the morning of the fourth day, you were pretty shocked to see Izuku standing in the hallway.

You had a moment to observe him before he noticed your presence. He was wearing a large shirt and a pair of sweatpants which were a little loose on his hips. The rise and fall of his chest was visible from a distance and his skin was slightly flushed; he was very obviously at the end of a period of lucidity. When he turned to you, his already dilated pupils blew out until you couldn’t see the green any more.

Blanching, you turned around to reopen your door. In your haste, you fumbled with the door handle and had only just gotten it open by an inch before it slammed closed again. You gulped as you saw Izuku’s hands either side of your head, pushing casually against the door, preventing your escape. Despite caging you with his body, he wasn’t touching you. He stood a few inches away but you could feel the heat radiating from him, threatening to sear into your skin even with the barrier of air and clothes between you.

“Izuku-kun?” you asked tentatively. “What are you doing outside?”

“Sorry, know I’m not s’pposed to,” he said, a slight slur to his words. “Wanted… dunno what I wanted. Nami-chan, you smell good.”

You swallowed thickly as you felt him shift forwards, pressing his sensitive nose to your hair and taking several deep breaths. Your gut twisted as one of his arms left the door and wound loosely around your waist.

The guys got locked in during their ruts for good reason and it wasn’t just for your safety. Although males rutting were often more aggressive, sleeping with them in his state was still a type of assault. Hitoshi was a good partner, not only for his patience, but because if he shifted to his half form, he could hold a partner down if they tried to go beyond previously discussed boundaries.

Speaking of your snake hybrid:

“Wh-where’s Hitoshi-kun?” you asked.

You cursed yourself for stuttering. You weren’t afraid, precisely, but you were worried about how far things could devolve.

Izuku hummed liked he’d only half-heard you. The arm around your waist was tightening, drawing you back into the heat of his chest. You bit your lip as you felt the muscles of his torso trying to brand themselves into your back, hold back a gasp at the waves of body heat rolling off him. It was important not to react in a way which could be misunderstood, you didn’t want to lead him on. Even if your body was more honest than your mind.

Despite your resolve, you still jumped when Izuku moved, apparently getting tired of your hair, and slotted his head into the junction of your neck and shoulder. It was only a small strip of contact but his bare skin connecting with yours threatened to burn you.

“Izuku,” you said a little more firmly. “Where’s Hitoshi-kun? Why isn’t he with you?”

“He was earlier,” he said, answer muffled by your skin under his lips. “He did such a good job taking my cock, makes such good sounds.”

You blamed the combination of his lips ghosting against your sensitive neck along with the crude words for the shudder that racked through you. Even though it was hardly a graphic description, coming from sweet, innocent Izuku, it was incredibly hot. Not to mention the thought of two of your gorgeous hybrids actually fucking, and the evidence of Izuku’s enjoyment making itself known against the small of your back. Was it any wonder you flushed pink?

Izuku groaned, pulling you tighter against him, his cock pressing into you hard. The sheer size of it had you swallowing again.

“You got wet,” he moaned. “God, you smell so good. Do you like that? The idea of Toshi’s pretty mouth stretched around my cock as I rut into him? Do you wanna watch? Toshi won’t mind the extra company.”

That was just playing dirty.

You closed your eyes, trying not to imagine it but knowing it’d haunt your private fantasies for a while. The searing heat of Izuku’s tongue licking up your neck jolted you out of your head.

“Izuku, I need to go into my room,” you told him through gritted teeth. “Alone.”

“Whyyy?” he whined. “I want you to stay. Come see my nest. Please, Nami.”

“You aren’t in any state to making that decision,” you told him. “You can’t consent like this and I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

He seemed to freeze against your back. You didn’t dare move just yet but you felt hope that’d you’d managed to get through to him. Those were dashed when Izuku flipped you around, pressing your back to the door and sliding so close you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were laser focused on you and your resolve was wavering. When he spoke, his voice was low but measured. Confident, in a way you’d never seen from him before.

“What if I told you I wanted you even out of a rut?” he asked quietly. “What if I told you I’ve loved you for months now?”

Your heart felt like it was about to beat straight out of your chest. Holy shit, was this a legitimate confession? Could you take it seriously? You swallowed, unable to answer as Izuku’s hands slid up your body to cradle your face and neck.

“This is something I will absolutely want when I’m sober,” he insisted. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Now it was your turn to freeze, paralysed by surprise and a sudden lack of will to deny him. You wanted this so much, and it was just a kiss. Just one kiss.

You felt the initial press of his lips against yours — soft, gentle, like you were infinitely precious — and your eyes fluttered shut. Someone had set off a firework show in your mind and heart, and it felt so… right.

“Izuku! No!”

You both jolted apart and turned to face Hitoshi, who’d appeared at the end of the hall. Tossing the tray of food aside, he launched himself down the corridor, transforming to his half form as he went. Before you could react, Hitoshi had tackled Izuku to the floor and pinned him to the floor.

The sight shocked you back to clarity, and you felt a rush of guilt.

“Hitoshi,” you called. “Be careful not to hurt him. It’s not his fault.”

“Nami-chan, get inside,” he replied, grunting as Izuku managed to kick him. “Lock the door, now!”

Knowing your presence and scent wasn’t helping matters, you did as you were told with a soft curse. Once safely on the other side of your door, you closed your eyes and berated yourself.

What had you been thinking?

You could still hear the pair struggling and the muffled shouts of your name from Izuku. You slid down to the floor, every shout tugging at your heart strings. You were so stupid. How could you put him in such a compromising situation? Especially one where Izuku ends up looking like the bad guy?

You pulled out your phone and sent a text to the group chat you guys had. Hitoshi and Izuku were still included even if they wouldn’t read it until much later; partly for the sake of speed, but you also wanted both of them to know you didn’t blame Izuku for his actions.

“Alert! Izuku got out. Hitoshi is engaging. Go easy on him, I gave mixed signals.”

You put your phone away and curled up in a ball beside your door. It took less than two minutes for you to hear the pounding of more steps, along with shouts from Katsuki and Eijirou.

“Let go,” Izuku shout. “Let me go. Nami! Nami!!”

The sounds got more an more muffled, until a slamming door basically cut it off completely. You stayed where you were, unable to move now that you were stuck in a self-deprecating cycle of guilt, until a gentle knock sounded against the door.

“Nami-chan,” came Shouto’s voice. “It’s safe now. You can come out.”

Your throat closed up at the thought, remembering Izuku’s reaction to your changed scent. Hitoshi might not have noticed — snakes smelt by tasting the air around them and he’d been otherwise occupied — and Izuku might not properly remember by the end of his rut. However, the rest of your guys would pick up on it the moment you opened your door. You already wanted to die of shame and, maybe it was cowardly of you, but you didn’t want them to realise the whole situation was your fault. That your feelings and desires had egged Izuku on like a matador’s cape in front of a bull.

“I’m actually going to take a quick shower,” you said, after clearing your throat. “I smell like horny rabbit, and I don’t want to rile anyone up.”

You aimed for jovial but it seemed to fall flat, especially when Shouto didn’t immediately reply.

“All right,” he said, sounding hesitant. “Are you okay?”

“Yep, absolutely!” you said, wincing at how out of character you sounded but unable to stop. “Hitoshi-kun intervened before things got interesting.”

Another pause and you knew you’d fooled exactly no one. God, you couldn’t sound more guilty if you tried.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Shouto said. “Enjoy your shower.”

“Thanks!”

You waited a solid ten minutes, having heard the guys retreat, before moving. True to your word, you had a shower but not even turning the temperature to scalding washed away your regrets.

Chapter Text

Freshly showered and changed into clean clothes, you dragged yourself out of your room. Despite believing you’d heard them walk away, Shouto, Eijirou, and Katsuki were all hovering outside when you emerged. They all showed concern in their own way but Katsuki marched up to you and grabbed you by the shoulders. He manhandled you, twisting you and pulling your sleeves up to check you weren’t hurt, and you praised your forethought to have a shower.

“Damn Deku,” Katsuki seethed. “What the fuck was he thinking? Fucking Eyebags too, leaving the door unlocked.”

“Izuku-kun wasn’t thinking,” you defended on a sigh, “He’s in the middle of his first rut. And who knows what happened with Hitoshi-kun, it might not have been his fault either.”

“Well, it’s somebody’s damn fault!” Katsuki shouted.

You flinched, aware that it was mostly yours, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that out loud. You just hoped Izuku and Hitoshi would forgive you when they found out.

“Bakubro,” Eijirou said, stepping forward to pull Katsuki back a little, “You’re freaking Nami-chan out.”

Katsuki’s crimson eyes fixed on your face and despite your best attempts to clear your expression, he scowled at what he found there. Knocking Eijirou’s hand off his shoulder, Katskui stormed off, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Despite the clear rejection, Eijirou jogged after him, throwing you an apologetic look you didn’t need. You knew as well as he did that your resident bear needed to go cool off before he could be around you again; it was as much as for your benefit as for his and you didn’t begrudge it.

“Nami-chan,” Shouto said. “Perhaps you should skip going to the Cottage this morning?”

A day off did sound good but it was the worst possible timing. You hadn’t been to the cottage for a few days, waiting for your hormones to calm down. Yesterday, the guys had confirmed you were no longer ovulating and you’d planned to visit Dabi and Shigaraki this morning. You’d let your intentions known through your employees last night, and you didn’t feel comfortable backing out. As it was, you were already running late and your work ethic pushed you forwards.

“Not today,” you told him. “Maybe tomorrow.”

That was a promise you both knew was hollow and Shouto was outright frowning at you. So you reached out and gave his hand a small squeeze.

God, what you’d give to be able to take him with you, but Shigaraki and Dabi weren’t ready for that step. They needed to start feeling like the Cottage was their home first, free from other hybrids until they came around to the idea of sharing their space. Both of their animals sides had super sharp senses of smell which, baring some injuries you weren’t aware of, would carry over to their human forms, so you couldn’t even sneak Shouto in and out again.

“If you don’t feel well, come home immediately,” Shouto said, “And keep your phone on you.”

You cracked a smile at his overprotective attitude, warmed by the gesture despite how ridiculous it was.

“Of course,” you said, humouring him, “Walk with me to the halfway mark?”

Shouto nodded eagerly and kept your hand in his as you walked out of the main house and into the garden. The silence between you was companionable and you took great comfort in his quiet company. It was Shouto who judged where that halfway point was; he could smell it, the contested line which Dabi and Shigaraki desecrated every afternoon and Katsuki re-established every morning.

It came up entirely too soon, despite the size of your garden, so you gave Shouto a sad smile and reluctantly let go of his hand. He stayed there, watching as you retreated further towards the Cottage, and waved once you reached the door.

You took in a deep breath and stepped in, walking through the building and giving the employees on duty a polite smile as they greeted you. Shuuzenji was standing in the open area beyond the rooms, which were both closed off by the shouji on the inside. She gave a long-suffering sigh as you walked up to her.

“They’re not feeling co-operative this morning,” she warned you. “And Tomura-kun has been sulking over the fact you’ve not been… receptive to his advances.”

You nodded. There wasn’t much you could do about that; you’d already had one major fuck up that morning regarding horny hybrids and you weren’t about to give Shigaraki false hope.

“Thank you, Shuuzenji-sensei,” you said, “I appreciate you looking in on them.”

“It’s my job, dear. But, more importantly, how are you?”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You look peaky. Did something happen?”

Your cheeks lit up in shame and you sent a meaningful look towards the closed shouji. You never could hide anything from Shuuzenji, it was one of things which made her so skilled in dealing with hybrids. However, it wasn’t something you could discuss with hybrids so nearby. You didn’t doubt they’d heard every word the pair of you had spoken so far.

“I see,” the elderly vet said, “Come up to my office after you’re done this morning. We can have some tea and chat. Good luck in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” you repeated, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you soon, dear.”

You gave yourself a minute to let the blush die down before grabbing a paperback you’d left there a few days before. There was also your laptop and your tablet available, but you weren’t in the right frame of mind for work. The paperback was a best seller, at least, so hopefully it would keep your mind off your already eventful morning.

You crawled into the cubby on Shigaraki’s side and found him already there. He was on the cat bed, facing the wall, not even a flick from his tail. To your surprise, Dabi was also in Shigaraki’s room, watching some animal documentary with the volume right down.

“Morning, Dabi-san, Shigaraki-san,” you said. “Sorry for my absence.”

Shigaraki didn’t react but Dabi grinned viciously, a nasty glint in his eye.

“No worries, doll. Even the kitty can take a hint after a few days.”

You felt rather than heard Shigaraki’s low snarl at the words and you wanted to wince. While you didn’t want to hurt Shigaraki, there had to be some boundaries.

You eyed Dabi, “Don’t suppose you’d give us some privacy?”

The grin stretched wider. “And miss the show? Not a chance.”

Just to enforce the point, Dabi put his legs up on the low table in front of the sofa and settled himself deeper into his seat. Turquoise eyes glittered as they bore into your face, determined not to miss any flicker of emotion.

You held in a sigh with difficulty.

“Shigaraki-san,” you called, “Can we talk?”

You didn’t want to raise your voice to talk to him about a sensitive matter. It felt like you were deliberately embarrassing him, especially after such a sexually charged morning. If he came closer, you would have at least been able to pretend Dabi and half the Cottage staff couldn’t hear. However, all you got was a sharp flick of his tail. Translation: fuck off.

“I wanted to explain my behaviour over the last few days,” you said, “It wasn’t a reflection on you.”

““It’s not you, it’s me,”?’ Dabi scoffed. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“I wasn’t in heat,” you added, ignoring the hyena.

‘Well, no shit. Humans don’t get those. Even Kitty knows that.’

You still ignored him, watching the way Shigaraki’s form tensed almost imperceptibly. Ah, so he hadn’t known.

“As Dabi-san says, humans don’t get heats, or ruts,” you explained. “Females get a time when they’re most fertile, around once a month, but humans remain lucid throughout.”

You paused, waiting for some sort of reaction. Honestly, you could understand why Shigaraki was so withdrawn. Female hybrids in heat were even less picky about their partners than males during their rut. Consent had to be obtained before things start because, after that, the females would agree to anything to sate their cravings. So on the rare occasion where a female in heat rejected a male suitor, it was particularly damning.

“Also, I’m on the ace-spectrum,” you added.

Dabi had been looking up at Shigaraki in a mixture of confusion, shock, and faint horror, as it dawned on him that his roommate really didn’t know that much about human women. However, your latest statement drew his attention.

“The what?” he asked.

“Ace-spectrum,” you repeated. “It’s an umbrella term for people who are asexual, grey-sexual, demisexual, and a couple of others. It means I’m not generally interested in sex.”

“What? So you’re a fucking virgin?”

“No, the stars have aligned a couple of times, but that’s pretty rare.”

Dabi scoffed. “You expect us to believe that? You keep a harem in your house, and you’re telling me you’re not fucking them? I call bullshit.”

This time you did sigh. “I’m not in a relationship — sexual or otherwise — with anyone at the moment, especially not my hybrids. While I don’t condemn human-hybrid relationships, I wouldn’t be comfortable dating someone who’s so reliant on me. That’s not a healthy power dynamic.”

It was the party line, something you’d repeated in some variation at almost every interview you’d ever given. The words were so automatic at this point, they usually felt hollow in your chest. Today, they were heavy, weighed down with guilt and self-loathing. You did your best to keep those feelings from entering your expression or your voice.

“So, Kitty’s going to die a virgin,” Dabi mocked, “How sad.”

Irritation sparked in your chest.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And he’s got a better chance of bedding me than you do. He’d be even further ahead if we could have a conversation.”

Dabi’s eyebrows shot up at the same time Shigaraki bolted upright in the cat bed. The liger was still facing away from you but you were glad to finally have a proper reaction from him. However, after the initial shock wore off, Dabi frowned at you.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve never seen the guy’s face,” he said.

You shrugged. “While actually seeing Shigaraki-san’s face would be a plus, it’s not all about looks. Personality counts for a lot.”

Especially for a demi like yourself, which you didn’t add.

You hadn’t even come clean about that with Katsuki; he, and all your hybrids, thought you were plain asexual. It had been your first assumption as you managed to skate through compulsory education with barely a twinge of interest towards a real person. (Faceless entity in your imagination, fine; cutest boy in school, ick.) It wasn’t until your mother’s death, after which you and Katsuki had basically become trauma-bonded, that you started to discover real sexual desire. You’d been so guilt-ridden about falling in love with Katsuki, whom had been left to you in your mother’s will, that you’d shoved your feelings in a box and ignored them. When you went to university, you came across the concept of “demisexual” for the first time but it took until third year when you ended up fooling around with a friend that you thought about in relation to yourself.

Part of you was embarrassed when you figured it out. That you spent your school years so divorced from other people that you couldn’t form a close enough connection to even have a school girl crush. That when you did experience attraction for the first time, that it was with someone who was legally the equivalent of your pet. So, the only people you’d told were your surrogate mother, Shuuzenji Chiyo, and best friend, Yaoyorozu Momo. The next logical step would have been to tell Katsuki but, as he was the object of your first crush, you’d chickened out. Then, when you’d adopted Eijirou and the process repeated, you resigned yourself to taking the secret to your grave.

Your thoughts were interrupted by another scoff from Dabi.

“Well, the Kitty’s personality is a dumpster fire,” he said, “So I guess he strikes out completely.”

There was bang in the room next door, and a voice — unfamiliar and muffled — swore. Your eyes lit up at the same time Dabi started growling.

“Are you fucking with me?” he snarled.

Chapter Text

You didn’t know how exactly Shigaraki had managed to sneak past the pair of you and get into Dabi’s room — the stealth of large cats would never fail to amaze you — but you were almost dizzy with joy to hear the muffled voice from the other side of the partially closed adjoining door. Dabi, however, was enraged.

“After everything,” he growled, “Is that seriously all it fucking takes?”

“Shut it,” a raspy voice snapped.

The door swung open a bit further and a figure staggered into the room. He was tall and lanky, wearing jeans which were too short in the leg for him and a hoodie, both in black. The hood had been pulled up and dragged over his face, hiding most of it in shadows. Only a few tufts of pale blue hair were exposed, along with his cracked lips. A striped tail, ending in a small tuft of fur, flicked in agitation behind him.

“No, you shut it,” Dabi said, rising from the sofa. “You’ve been a cat basically since you arrived. Kurogiri fucking whipped you until you were all but dead and you didn’t change. But a hot piece of ass tells you there’s microscopic chance of getting laid and, just like that, you’re okay to be walking around on two legs?”

Your eyebrows raised slightly at the throw-away comment. You were under no illusions about your looks; you were a solid eight point five out of ten. Your parents had been extremely good looking and although you had more than a passing resemblance to your late mother, you weren’t as stunning. You’d had no shortage of suitors but how much that was your looks and how much was the allure of your money was anyone’s guess. Still, being called “hot” was unusual for you — pretty or cute was usually as good as it got — especially since you hadn’t been dressing up for your visits.

Shigaraki just scratched at his neck, jerking his head at an awkward angle to indicate your direction.

“Doing better than you, Crispy,” he rasped.

Dabi turned to you and you tried to school your expression. However, your delight at seeing Shigaraki out of fur must still have been plain your face. Dabi scowled at you and your smile turned mischievous.

““Hot piece of ass”,” you repeated. “Didn’t realise you thought that way about me.”

The scowl only deepened as his tossed his head away from you, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. He was trying for unaffected but you thought you could spy a pink tinge to the unburnt skin on his neck. You couldn’t swear to it though.

“Fishing for compliments is real ugly, doll,” he said. “Didn’t have you pegged as the type.”

You scoffed. “Please, that wasn’t a compliment. You’re just lucky I don’t easily take offence.”

“I’m no sweet-talker,” Dabi said, a slight warning to his voice.

The urge to roll your eyes was rising. As if you hadn’t guessed that already.

Besides, even if he wasn’t virtually guaranteed to be stuck with you for the rest of his life, you weren’t going to toss him out just because he wouldn’t flatter you. He could have continued being outright hostile and you wouldn’t have cared beyond being concerned about whether he’d come to you if there was a problem. But Dabi wasn’t ready to hear that and your tone was almost sad as you reassured him.

“You don’t need to be,” you said, “But that’s a discussion for another time. Shigaraki-san, humanoid is a good look on you. How are you feeling?”

As you turned your attention back to the liger, he glanced at you from under the hood. You caught a glimpse of red eyes before he looked away and started up scratching his neck. You made a mental note to ask Shuuzenji to look into getting him an ointment for the area, though you had a suspicion it was more of a nervous tick than a physical affliction.

“Whatever, I’m out,” Dabi muttered.

He shouldered Shigaraki out of the way and went back into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. Shigaraki stumbled but stayed upright, scratching at his neck harder in agitation. He said something under his breath in Dabi’s direction, and by the time he turned his attention to you, you were surprised he still remembered your question.

“Pretty shitty,” he said, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a nod. “We’ll just have to make the most of it then, won’t we? First up should be some better fitting jeans; the ones in your closet are the same length. Do you prefer black or blue?”

Not everyone came out of abusive situations swinging, like Dabi. With someone who hadn’t had the ability to freely make choices for themselves in a while, it was important to start small. People were prone to suppressing their desires if you got into the habit of making decisions based on others’ wants, or if your choices were often overridden. The pain of seemingly wishful thinking could get too much and the individuals themselves would stop considering what they’d want, just to avoid it. Their own opinion and tastes became foreign to them; making even simple decisions — like a choice of colour — into ordeals.

Shigaraki hesitated, scratching even harder at his neck, for over a minute. You tried not to wince as you caught the scarlet of fresh blood flashing under his nails, but you waited patiently until the self-harm slowed down.

“Black.”

His voice cracked on the word, likely from lack of use. But he shrank back a little, like he expected to be harmed. So you put on your most reassuring smile.

“All right, sounds great,” you said. “I’ll pick out a couple of pairs and have them sent over. If those are the right size, you can always order some more from your tablet.”

The decision done with, you saw a tiny amount of Shigaraki’s tension leave his shoulders.

Maybe it was your tumultuous morning, maybe you were just relieved to make some concrete progress with him; either way, you had the overwhelming urge to spoil Shigaraki somehow. Unfortunately, that was difficult when you barely knew anything about him and asking his opinion was such a quagmire. You did know he’d enjoyed the water buffalo at the shelter though, and while you did have some in your freezers, there was no way it would be defrosted in time for dinner.

Well, sometimes being obscenely rich had it’s advantages.

“How does steak for dinner sound?” you asked. “I can get some more water buffalo in as a small celebration for our first verbal conversation.”

Shigaraki stiffened before shrugging. “Sure, whatever.”

His tail gave a few slow but pleased sways before he curled it around his leg self-consciously.

“Did you want to sit?” you asked, “Or you could watch some TV? The documentary Dabi-san put on looks quite interesting. I didn’t bring my work today, so if you want to do your own thing, I’ll just be on my phone.”

Shigaraki paused, the scratching down to an almost contemplative speed, as he thought it over. Eventually he sat down in front of the TV and started watching absentmindedly.

You settled down, sending off messages to get the special dinner prepared, and pretended not to notice him keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye for the rest of the morning. Only when your stomach growled did you remember the mess you’d left in the main house.

Chapter Text

You were not sneaking in.

You were not some teenager trying to get in after staying out past curfew; you were a grown adult, dammit, and the house was in your name. You didn’t need to tiptoe as you entered, or choose your steps carefully to avoid that creaky floorboard. You certainly didn’t need to be paranoid about every sound in the house or avoid your family.

You were just being… cautious, and aware of your surroundings. You’d talk to your hybrids as soon as you saw them, just, maybe that didn’t have to be as soon as you stepped inside.

You made it a few metres, at most, before coming face-to-face — well, face-to-chest — with a frowning Katsuki. He had his arms crossed and was staring you down, a single eyebrow raised as though to ask you just how you really thought this was going to go. All you could do was straighten up from your half-crouch and try to give him an innocent smile.

From his expression, you’d hadn’t exactly nailed it. And he didn’t seem to be in the mood to humour your antics.

“We’re not doing this shitty routine again,” he said flatly.

“I don’t know—”

“You do,” he said, “This happens every time some rut-brained moron makes a pass at you. You act like you’ve got something to feel guilty about when you damn well don’t.”

You winced. Unsure if you were more uncomfortable about him being so painfully correct about previous circumstances — you did tend to get overly self-critical in such situations — or about him being so painfully incorrect just this once.

“Not every time,” you defended weakly. “And it’s, this time was different.”

Katsuki scoffed, challenging you to explain.

You tried, you really did, but over his shoulders you could see Eijirou and Shouto hovering in the background. You loved your hybrids to the moon and back, you knew they wouldn’t judge you harshly. But you still couldn’t say why it was your fault.

Whether he caught your wandering gaze or noticed them by himself, Katsuki huffed and all but slung you over his shoulder.

“Katsuki!” you protested.

You heard similar calls from the other two but Katsuki was taking long strides up the nearest staircase.

“This is a private chat, arseholes,” he yelled back at them, nearly deafening you in the process.

You hung over his shoulder, upside down for a few moments, before you pushed against his back and get your head up to parallel to the floor. It was slightly less disorientating but you were no more in control than before.

“Katsuki, this isn’t fair,” you protested.

He just grunted at you, unwilling to engage.

Despite looking around, you didn’t really know where you were headed until you were seated at your desk in your office. The room spun as you were suddenly righted and Katsuki briefly retreated.

You heard the door shut as you closed your eyes to fight the sense of nausea, then the lock snick in place, loud from disuse. A few muffled bangs on the other side followed shortly but the room was basically sound proofed both ways, and you took a moment to mourn your pride as you realised this conversation was now inescapable.

By the time your stomach had settled and you’d opened your eyes, Katsuki was perched against your desk and pointedly waiting.

The sight was nostalgic. It was a funny thing, practically growing up with Katsuki. You had just turned thirteen when you’d first met and your mother had treated him like an adopted son. He was your annoying not-quite-step-brother, always ready to pick a fight with you but heaven help anyone else who tried to do the same. In turn, after your mother passed away, you’d gone toe-to-toe with your father over Katsuki and it ended up being just you and him for a few long years.

How many times had he and you sat down to hash things out like this? Sitting in the endless quiet together in the lulls between explosive arguments, trying to figure out how to move forward and grow up, with only each other to lean on.

Moments like this always felt something like going to a confessional; it gave a sense of relief as you prepared to tell him your sins.

You gave one last sigh. You couldn’t even fault him for semi-kidnapping you for answers.

“It really wasn’t Izuku-kun’s fault,” you told him, feeling surprisingly calm about it. “I gave mixed signals.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but when he spoke, his tone was far from his usual abrasive growl.

“Literally anything except extreme violence is a mixed signal when you’re in rut,” he reminded you. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

You flushed but you’d confessed things far more embarrassing to Katsuki over the years. And he to you.

And, to be fair, you owed not only him the truth, but poor Izuku too. If you left things as they were, Katsuki was likely to take it out on the bunny hybrid, and that was a bridge too far.

“He started talking dirty and I reacted,” you told him.

You hoped that would be enough but all you got was an extra furrow between his eyebrows. With a groan you slumped back into your chair. Apparently he was going to make you say it outright.

Fucking men. Couldn’t take a hint to save their lives.

“I got wet, Kacchan,” you said. “And he could smell it.”

You expected a reaction — a loud one, despite the measured tone of your current conversation — so when you got nothing at all, for an extended period, you were confused. Opening your eyes, your confusion was mirrored back at you; you could almost see the genuine question marks hanging over Katsuki’s head.

“What?” you asked, a little uncomfortable under his stare.

“Over Deku?” he asked.

The blush rushed back to your cheeks.

“That’s not his name, Katsuki,” you said snapped.

“I mean, sure, me or Shitty Hair,” he murmured as though he hadn’t heard you, “Maybe even Half-and-Half or Eyebags. But… Deku? Seriously?”

You flushed harder, and wished you had a cushion to hit him with. You didn’t know which was worse, his ego or his sudden judgement of your tastes. Or maybe you were just embarrassed by the fact that he was largely on point.

“What’s wrong with Izuku-kun?” you demanded. “He’s cute.”

Katsuki made a disgusted face. He wasn’t dramatic enough for a fake shudder but the energy was there.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, giving him an ineffective shove. “My point is, it wasn’t Izuku-kun’s fault. I really did end up acting like a tease.”

The fact that he hadn’t ravaged you like most would have in his situation — but instead had given a rather heartfelt confession and a gentle kiss — was a conversation for another time.

“Yeah, but you weren’t — you weren’t trying to get wet for him, were you?” Katsuki pressed.

He looked so serious about the question, somehow that was more mortifying than making the actual confession. You lashed out, slapping him on the arm to vent your embarrassment. Once, twice, thrice.

“No!” you howled. “It would have happened with any of you! What kind of question even is that?”

“Ow! Ow! Stop hitting me!” he demanded, slapping your hands away. “The kind that points out that you didn’t do it on purpose! So it wasn’t your fault either. Damn, woman, when did you learn to hit so hard?”

“Don’t be a baby. There’s no way I actually hurt you.”

“It’s still assault, dammit,” he retorted. “And, you’re avoiding the point.”

You pouted at him, unwilling to concede your guilt was probably unfounded. Instead, you stood up from the chair and bullied your way into his arms so you could hide your face. As always, Katsuki sighed and hugged you, rocking you slightly as you wrapped your arms around his thick chest.

“Such a baby,” he complained half-heartedly.

He let you hold him for a few seconds while your embarrassment simmered down. The silence was comforting and while you knew the moment couldn’t last forever, you wanted to let it linger for just a bit longer.

“Thanks, Kacchan,” you said, words muffled.

“Always.”