Archive of Our Own ^beta

Katsuki had never been the type to dwell on what he couldn’t change, at least not out loud. He was blunt, brash, quick to anger, and quicker still to bite back when someone pushed at the parts of him he’d rather not expose. But being a beta in a world that thrummed to the rhythm of alphas and omegas was a quiet, constant itch under his skin. It wasn’t the kind of insecurity he let anyone see—hell, most people would laugh in his face if they knew how often it haunted him. Still, it was there, gnawing at the corners of his pride in moments when his guard slipped.

Like now.

The common room of the dorms smelled faintly of food—someone had raided the kitchen—and underneath that, the layered scents of everyone lounging around. Alphas carried a sharpness to them, omegas had a softness, something warm and cloying that always seemed to linger in the air. Betas were meant to be neutral, background noise. Katsuki hated that. His own scent was faint, barely worth noticing, a dull echo of burnt caramel that never clung the way an alpha’s or omega’s did.

Across the room, Kaminari was draped half over Hitoshi’s shoulders, whining about some movie they had to watch later. Hitoshi didn’t even look at him, just gave a distracted grunt, but his scent curled protectively, grounding, and Kaminari relaxed instantly, cheek pressing against Hitoshi’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. The idiot omega looked smug, soaking up the alpha’s presence like sunshine.

And then, over by the couch, Shouto leaned closer to Midoriya—Deku, with his wide eyes and soft laugh—and pressed his nose against his temple in that instinctual alpha way. Katsuki caught the sharp twist in his chest before he could shove it down. He knew it didn’t mean anything; Shouto and Hitoshi weren’t careless with him. Behind closed doors, they touched him, kissed him, whispered things that made his chest go hot and stupid. But in the open? With their omega friends? Their instincts painted a different picture.

Katsuki shifted, scowling at the floor like it had insulted him. He could practically hear the narrative running in his head, the same one every book, every movie, every damn story hammered in: alphas and omegas belonged together. Fated mates, soul bonds, some cosmic destiny bullshit. Betas didn’t get written into happily-ever-afters. At best, they were placeholders. At worst, they were forgotten.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He had Hitoshi’s sharp smirks when the world wasn’t looking, Shouto’s slow-burning touches that melted every edge Katsuki thought he had. He had both of them, and no one else knew. That should’ve been enough.

But watching Kaminari sigh happily against Hitoshi’s shoulder, watching Deku’s cheeks pink as Shouto’s scent curled around him, Katsuki felt like the odd one out in his own damn relationship.

It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t even realize how it looked. They were alphas—every little thing they did screamed it, from the way they moved to the way people leaned toward them instinctively. Katsuki was just… there. A beta who had to stock up on lube because his body didn’t make things easy. A beta who wasn’t soft or delicate or pliant like an omega. He was sharp angles, harsh words, temper that lit like a fuse.

He told himself they liked that. They wouldn’t keep him otherwise. They kissed him like they meant it, held him close when no one else could see. They whispered his name like it mattered. But sometimes, in the quiet parts of his head, he wondered if they ever wished he was different.

If he was an omega, they wouldn’t have to adjust. They’d have all those things alphas craved without needing bottles shoved in drawers, without Katsuki snapping when he felt too raw and exposed. They’d have something dainty, something soft, something the whole damn world said belonged to them.

And instead they had him.

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, pretending not to watch, pretending not to notice the way the room shifted around alphas and omegas like gravity itself bent to them. His jaw ached from clenching it too tight.

Hitoshi finally glanced his way, eyes narrowing a little. Katsuki knew that look—sharp, observant, the kind of gaze that cut straight through the walls he tried to build. He looked away fast, focusing on nothing in particular, because he wasn’t about to let either of them see the storm churning in his chest.

Later, maybe, behind closed doors, he’d let himself breathe again. For now, he stayed still, scowl in place, bracing himself against the suffocating weight of feeling like he’d never be enough.

And god, he hated how much it hurt.

Katsuki’s nails dug crescent moons into the inside of his arms where they were crossed. He was angry, but not at them, not at Kaminari draped like a satisfied cat over Hitoshi or at Deku blushing up at Shouto like the idiot had just been confessed to. He was pissed at himself.

Because it was stupid. Statistically, there weren’t more omegas in the world than betas. There weren’t more alphas either. The percentages leveled out in the end, close enough to call it even. Society was balanced that way—nature, biology, whatever the hell you wanted to call it.

But when it came to stories, to the unspoken rules everyone swallowed down with their morning coffee, it was always alphas and omegas. Pairings that just made sense, clean lines on paper that didn’t leave jagged edges.

Betas? They were there, yeah. They had jobs, lives, sometimes relationships that looked steady enough. But most of the ones Katsuki had ever seen were with each other—beta with beta. Neutral with neutral. No messy instinctual drives to bind them, no fated shit clawing at their ribs.

He thought about his parents. His mom—sharp-tongued, loud, a hurricane of a woman—was still an omega. She wasn’t soft-spoken or dainty, but she didn’t have to be. His dad, the quiet alpha with the kind hands, balanced her out. People saw them and nodded like it fit perfectly, like nature had ticked its box and called it done.

And Katsuki? He was neither part of that pairing nor its mirror. He was an outlier, the middle rung no one talked about. A beta with not one, but two alphas who were so distinctly, unavoidably *alpha* it made him grind his teeth.

“God, Hitoshi, you and Kaminari are too damn cute,” Mina cooed, kicking her feet up as she lounged across the arm of the couch. Her grin was wide, eyes sparkling with the kind of teasing energy she lived off. “You act all grumpy, but then look at you letting him hang off you. Denki’s basically purring.”

Kaminari preened instantly, pressing his cheek harder into Hitoshi’s shoulder. “See? People *get* us,” he said, smug.

Hitoshi didn’t answer, but his lips quirked—barely noticeable, unless you were Katsuki and you knew that meant he was actually enjoying himself.

The room filled with laughter, the kind that grated at Katsuki’s nerves. His stomach tightened, twisted into a knot he couldn’t untangle. He could already feel what was coming next, the inevitable shift of attention.

And there it was. Uraraka leaned forward, eyes darting between Shouto and Deku with the same spark of excitement Mina had. “Honestly, you two are so perfect, too. Shouto, you’re always looking out for him. And Deku, you’re like… I don’t know, you bring out the softest parts of him. It’s adorable.”

Deku flushed hard, scratching the back of his neck, stammering some nonsense about not being that close, but Shouto just blinked slowly, expression calm as he murmured, “You’re important to me, Izuku.”

The squeals that followed nearly split Katsuki’s eardrums. Mina, Uraraka, even Ashido and Hagakure joined in, gushing about how *perfect* the two of them would be as a pair, how it was like they’d been pulled out of one of those trashy romance novels everyone secretly read. Alpha and omega, balanced, inevitable.

Katsuki’s chest burned. He could feel the weight of it pressing in, heavy and suffocating. No one would ever say that about him, Hitoshi, and Shouto. No one would clap their hands together and sigh about how “meant to be” they looked. Because in the eyes of everyone else, he wasn’t part of that equation.

If Hitoshi leaned his head against his, no one would coo. If Shouto brushed their fingers together in public, no one would say it was fate. They’d tilt their heads, confused, maybe even disappointed, because the story wasn’t neat anymore.

It stung. Worse than he wanted to admit.

Katsuki’s jaw worked, teeth grinding as the laughter and chatter filled the space around him. He wanted to yell at all of them, to tell them to shut the hell up with their stupid fairytale bullshit. He wanted to shake them until they understood that reality wasn’t all fated bonds and pheromones that lined up neatly like puzzle pieces.

But even as he thought it, another voice echoed louder in the back of his mind: *Wouldn’t it be easier if you were an omega?*

He could see it so clearly it made him sick. Shouto brushing his scent into Katsuki’s hair and everyone sighing about how romantic it was. Hitoshi resting a hand on the back of his neck and people smiling knowingly, whispering about how lucky he was to have two alphas watching over him.

Instead, he was a beta, scent too faint to make anyone’s head turn, instincts dulled compared to theirs. He was always reaching, grasping, trying to prove that he deserved to stand where he did.

“Hey, Bakugou,” Mina’s voice cut through his storming thoughts, too bright, too casual. “Don’t you think Shouto and Deku would make the perfect couple? I mean, if they weren’t both busy, you know, doing school stuff.”

Her grin was teasing, but it felt like a blade between his ribs.

He forced his scowl deeper, heat prickling under his skin. “What the hell are you asking *me* for? You want me to gag, or what?”

Laughter again, louder this time, bouncing off the walls. They thought he was just being himself—loud, angry, unwilling to admit anything sentimental. None of them saw the way his stomach dropped, the way his throat felt tight.

Because if he answered honestly, if he let even a sliver of what he was feeling show, it wouldn’t be a joke anymore. It would be too raw, too revealing, and the last thing he’d ever let anyone see was that kind of weakness.

So he stayed where he was, arms crossed, back pressed against the wall like he could hold himself together if he just stayed rigid enough.

The laughter rolled on. Kaminari pressed closer into Hitoshi, Shouto’s hand brushed against Deku’s as they reached for the same notebook, and everyone around them buzzed with the easy, careless joy of youth.

And Katsuki stood in the middle of it, burning quietly, furious at himself for giving a damn.

The laughter around him blurred, voices overlapping until it all became one constant buzz Katsuki couldn’t tune out. His skin itched, crawling with every coo and sigh that spilled out of his classmates. He told himself it was stupid—that he was stupid—because what did it matter what they thought? It wasn’t like Mina or Uraraka or Hagakure knew a damn thing about what went on behind closed doors. They didn’t see the way Hitoshi’s hands steadied on his waist when they kissed, didn’t feel the quiet heat in Shouto’s gaze when Katsuki let his walls down enough to be held.

But knowing that didn’t change the hollow ache scraping at his ribs when everyone in the room kept pushing a story that didn’t have him in it.

And then something shifted.

He almost missed it—too tangled up in his own thoughts—until Kaminari glanced up at Deku. It wasn’t long, not more than half a second, but it was… loaded. Some unspoken signal that passed between them, so practiced it made Katsuki’s gut twist. He recognized it for what it was a second too late: shared intent.

Mina squealed again, bouncing in her seat. “Oh my god, *yes*! Do it, just kiss already! Both of you, come on!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fate,” Uraraka chimed in, clapping her hands like a kid begging for a magic trick. “Perfect pairs right in front of us. Don’t leave us hanging!”

Hagakure’s giggle carried through the room, invisible hands tugging at Deku’s sleeve. “Shouto, lean down a little! Denki, you too!”

Katsuki froze, blood rushing so fast in his ears he almost didn’t hear the rest. His stomach bottomed out as Kaminari tilted his head, leaning closer into Hitoshi, lips parted in something soft, practiced. At the same time, Deku angled himself toward Shouto, green eyes bright and hopeful, like this was the moment he’d been waiting for.

And Hitoshi didn’t move fast enough. Shouto didn’t, either.

Time slowed to a crawl. Katsuki’s vision tunneled, all the air sucked out of the room until there was nothing but the unbearable sight of two omegas leaning in toward what was his.

Every insecurity he’d shoved down—the ones he told himself were bullshit, that he was above—came roaring back all at once.

Of course. Of fucking course. What chance did he ever stand against an omega? Omegas didn’t need lube tucked in drawers or careful prep whispered between kisses. Omegas were soft where he was rough, instinctively alluring where he was abrasive. They were built to be what alphas wanted, what alphas *chose*.

And maybe—just maybe—his alphas were only with him until something better fell into their laps.

The thought stabbed so hard it made his throat seize up. *What if they decide they’d rather have them? What if I’ve just been the placeholder all along, some boring beta filling the space until a real match showed up?*

His chest tightened, sharp and hot and unbearable. His breath came short, shallow, like he couldn’t get enough air no matter how wide he opened his lungs.

He didn’t wait to see if the kisses landed. He couldn’t.

Before anyone could notice, Katsuki shoved himself off the wall, movements sharp and too fast, and slipped out the door. No one called after him—everyone too wrapped up in their little fairytale scene. He moved quickly down the hall, boots pounding against the floor, each step a desperate attempt to outrun the choking panic clawing its way up his throat.

By the time he reached his room, his hands were shaking so badly he fumbled the handle twice before shoving it open. He slammed it shut behind him, the sound too loud, too final, like sealing himself off from the rest of the world.

And then he couldn’t hold it anymore.

The sob ripped out of him before he could bite it back, raw and violent. His knees buckled, and he slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, chest heaving. His hands pressed hard against his face, trying to keep himself together, but the tears slipped through anyway, hot and relentless.

“Fuck—” His voice cracked, choked. He curled forward, pulling his knees tight to his chest, trying to make himself smaller, to hold the pieces of himself in place while everything inside fractured.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. He gave everything he had to them—his trust, his fire, the parts of him no one else got to touch—and it still didn’t feel like enough. Because he wasn’t what the world wanted him to be. He wasn’t what instinct told them to want.

Each breath came harder than the last, a stuttered, broken rhythm. He couldn’t get air in right, couldn’t stop the dizziness creeping at the edges of his vision. His chest hurt, every inhale scraping like broken glass, every exhale too shallow.

His hands curled into fists against his temples, nails biting into his scalp as if pain might ground him, might drown out the spiraling thoughts.

*They’d be happier with them.*

*You’re just a beta.*

*You’re not enough.*

The room tilted, spinning with every ragged breath. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape, too fast, too loud, making his whole body tremble.

Tears streamed unchecked down his face, dripping into his collar, soaking his shirt. He gasped, choked, coughed around the tightness in his throat that wouldn’t let go.

It was a panic attack, he knew it—he’d had them before, though never like this, never with this sharp edge of heartbreak cutting deeper than the fear itself. He wanted to scream, to break something, to claw at his own skin until the noise in his head stopped.

Instead, he rocked against the door, curled in on himself, the sound of his sobs filling the empty room. Each one tore at his throat, raw and hoarse, but he couldn’t stop.

Because underneath the fear, underneath the suffocating panic, was the sharp, undeniable truth he was too terrified to face.

What if he lost them?

What if loving him wasn’t enough to keep them from choosing someone easier, someone who fit the mold better, someone the world said they were meant to have?

The thought shattered him all over again, and he pressed his forehead to his knees, shaking apart in the quiet of his room where no one could see.

Kaminari leaned in, his lashes lowered, lips parted in a soft, tentative tilt. Deku mirrored the movement, green eyes bright with nervous hope as he angled closer to Shouto. The air in the common room seemed to catch on its breath, every student leaning forward, suspended in the sweet, tense moment of almost.

And then—

Twin growls ripped through the space, low, guttural, and dangerous.

Hitoshi’s hand snapped up, fingers curling around Kaminari’s shoulder with a strength that made the omega flinch. Shouto moved just as fast, his body shifting instinctively to put distance between himself and Deku, a protective stance that wasn’t soft, wasn’t hesitant. Both their voices overlapped, sharp and unyielding.

“Stay back.”

The command cut through the air like a blade. It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight—deep, instinctual weight—that made the omegas stumble a step back before they even realized what they were doing.

Silence crashed down over the common room.

Everyone froze, eyes wide, breaths caught in their throats. Kaminari’s grin faltered, falling into confusion. Deku blinked, stunned, his lips trembling as if the rejection hadn’t even been a possibility he’d considered.

Because wasn’t this what they wanted? Wasn’t this what alphas and omegas were meant for?

But Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes were sharp, almost glowing with the intensity of his instinct. Hitoshi’s entire posture screamed threat, his growl still rumbling faintly in his chest as his grip on Kaminari’s shoulder tightened before he shoved him away with a final warning push.

The room felt smaller, air heavy with the scent of alpha dominance spilling unrestrained, warning anyone who thought to press closer that the line had been drawn in blood.

And underneath it—panic.

Because both Hitoshi and Shouto realized at the same time what their instincts had already known: their mate wasn’t there.

The wall where Katsuki had been leaning only minutes ago stood empty, void in a way that sent ice racing down Shouto’s spine. Hitoshi’s head whipped around, scanning the corners, scent flaring sharp and frantic, but the burnt-caramel warmth that grounded them both was gone.

Vanished.

The alphas moved almost in sync, hearts spiking, breaths short. Their instincts shrieked—mate, mate, mate—and the absence was unbearable, hollowing them out in a single heartbeat.

“Where is he?” Hitoshi’s voice was rough, jagged with panic. His eyes darted, wild, searching for even the faintest trace.

Shouto’s composure cracked, cold fury twisting into something raw. His hands clenched at his sides, frost sparking against his skin as his control frayed. “Katsuki,” he breathed, and then louder, sharper, “Where is he?”

The class shifted uneasily, students shrinking back under the weight of their snarling presence.

“Wait—Bakugou was just here—” Mina started, voice pitched high, but she cut herself off when Hitoshi turned on her, growl deepening, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Don’t.” His voice carried an edge that silenced the room. “Don’t talk like you know where he is. Don’t even breathe his name if you can’t tell me where the fuck he went.”

Kaminari’s lips trembled, confusion collapsing into guilt, realization dawning slow and heavy. He glanced at Deku, who looked just as lost, just as shaken by the rejection and the sharp turn of atmosphere.

No one moved. No one dared.

Because both alphas looked feral.

Their scents spiked harshly, sharp warning notes laced with fear, fury, and something desperate. The air was thick with it, suffocating. Every student instinctively leaned back, pressed further into their seats, their own bodies recognizing the danger even before their brains could process it.

It wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t just instinct. It was panic. Pure, unrestrained, alpha panic at the absence of their chosen mate.

Hitoshi’s breaths came fast, uneven, his hands twitching at his sides like he was seconds away from tearing the dorm apart brick by brick if it meant finding Katsuki. “He wouldn’t just leave,” he muttered, voice cracking under the strain. “Not like this, not without—fuck. He’s upset.”

Shouto’s jaw was tight, his control razor-thin, flames flickering faintly across one palm while frost bloomed unbidden across his other. “He thinks—” The words cut off, throat tight. His eyes snapped to Hitoshi, wide with the same dawning horror. “He thinks we’d want them.”

The weight of it settled between them, too heavy, too cruel.

Their mate, their fire, their center—alone somewhere, drowning in thoughts they hadn’t caught in time.

And they weren’t with him.

That thought ripped the last threads of composure from them both.

Shouto bared his teeth, a sound low and dangerous breaking from his chest as he shoved past the nearest chair. “we’ll find him.”

Hitoshi’s snarl echoed the promise, his voice sharp enough to cut. “No one gets near him. Not until we fix this.”

The entire class sat frozen, wide-eyed and silent, as the two alphas stormed toward the door, scent and fury spilling in their wake. No one dared follow. No one dared speak. The two of the calmest, most controlled alphas they knew transformed into something half-wild, half-feral.

And god help anyone who got in their way.

The dorm hallway blurred as Shouto and Hitoshi took the stairs two at a time, the rhythm of their boots pounding in sync with the frantic beats of their hearts. Neither of them said a word as they pushed upward, breath heavy not from exertion but from the suffocating dread wrapping tight around their chests.

They both knew. They’d both felt it in that single moment when Kaminari leaned in toward Hitoshi, when Midoriya tipped forward toward Shouto. Their mate hadn’t been there anymore, and that absence spoke louder than any sound. It didn’t matter how quickly they’d jerked back, how fast their growls had warned the omegas away. The damage had been done before they even realized what was happening.

And the guilt dug in with claws.

Hitoshi’s jaw was locked, teeth grinding so hard his head ached. He could still see Kaminari’s eyes—bright, open, trusting. He’d always told himself it was just Denki being Denki, clingy, physical, harmless. But how many times had the omega leaned a little too close, laughed a little too sweet, sought him out a little too eagerly? He should’ve seen it. Should’ve stopped it before it festered into something the whole class mistook for courtship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, voice shaking, barely containing the roar his instincts demanded. “I should’ve told him to back off months ago.”

Shouto didn’t answer immediately, his breath ragged as he slammed his shoulder into the stairwell door to force it open faster. His mind replayed the scene in brutal flashes—Midoriya’s blush, his soft laughter, the way his hand had lingered a little too long against Shouto’s sleeve. He’d thought it was friendship, thought it was just Izuku being… Izuku. Loyal, open-hearted, too willing to give.

But he should have stopped it.

“I let him think he had a chance,” Shouto whispered, voice harsh, cracking at the edges. “I let everyone think it. While Katsuki—” His words cut off, too jagged to push past his throat.

Hitoshi shot him a sharp glance, and the anguish in Shouto’s mismatched eyes was a mirror of his own. Neither of them had been watching closely enough, too content with stolen kisses behind closed doors, too willing to keep things hidden because Katsuki wanted it that way. And in that quiet, they’d let their omega friends creep too close, let the class’s fantasies spin unchecked until it was a fucking performance in the common room.

And their mate had seen it all.

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, both of them were breathing hard, driven by desperation. The corridor stretched long and quiet, dim in the evening light filtering through narrow windows. They didn’t slow. They didn’t even pretend to.

Katsuki’s door came into view, and with it—

The sound.

Faint at first, muffled through wood and space, but unmistakable. Sobs, ragged and broken, the kind that scraped against raw throats and hollowed out lungs.

Both alphas froze mid-step.

The sound rooted them in place, hit them like a physical blow. Shouto’s breath stuttered, his hand curling into a fist at his side as his chest constricted painfully. Hitoshi’s vision blurred for a second, his throat closing up with shame, guilt, and grief all tangled together.

He was *their* mate. Their firebrand, their strong, furious, unyielding Katsuki. Curled behind a locked door and breaking in ways he never let anyone see. And it was their fault.

“Katsuki…” Shouto’s voice broke, soft, almost reverent.

Hitoshi swallowed hard and stepped closer, pressing his palm against the door. He tried the handle, twisted, pushed—but it barely budged, jammed tight. He frowned, gave it another sharp shove with his shoulder, but it held fast.

“He’s leaning against it,” Hitoshi murmured, realization dawning. “He doesn’t want us in.”

Shouto’s hand hovered near the wood, trembling faintly. He pressed his forehead against it, as if trying to close the unbearable distance. “Katsuki, it’s us. Please.”

From inside, a sniffle—harsh, wet, furious—and then Katsuki’s voice, raw and hoarse from crying.

“Fuck off!”

The two words cut deeper than claws, sliced through both of them with surgical precision. Hitoshi flinched back, his breath catching. Shouto’s heart sank so fast he thought it might split in half.

Rejection. Not of the omegas. Not of the classmates. Of *them.*

“Baby…” Hitoshi’s voice was low, cracking, barely held together. He pressed harder against the door, desperate to reach through it, to reach through the storm they’d let him fall into. “It’s us. Just us. Please don’t shut us out.”

Another sob answered him, muffled but sharp, followed by a broken, “I said *fuck off!* Leave me the hell alone!”

Shouto squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body trembling as he clenched his jaw to keep the sound in his throat from spilling out. Every instinct screamed at him to tear the door from its hinges, to force his way in, to gather Katsuki up and prove he wasn’t going anywhere. But he couldn’t—not if Katsuki didn’t want him. Forcing his way in would only prove the worst of his fears, that he wasn’t safe, wasn’t heard.

Hitoshi’s nails scraped against the wood as he dragged in a shaky breath. “This is our fault,” he whispered, voice harsh with self-recrimination. “We should’ve stopped it before it got this far. We should’ve—”

Shouto shook his head sharply, though his chest ached too much to form the words properly. His forehead stayed pressed to the door, cold seeping from his skin into the wood. “We failed him.”

And inside, Katsuki sobbed harder, like their voices only twisted the knife deeper.

Neither of them moved, both frozen there in front of the door that separated them from the person who mattered more than anything else in their world.

Both of them desperate, guilty, broken—knowing they’d let their beta believe, even for a moment, that an omega could take his place.

Katsuki sat crumpled against the door, face pressed into the crook of his arm. His breathing was jagged, raw from sobbing, but the storm was starting to dull at the edges. Not because he’d pulled himself together—hell no, he felt like a shattered mess scattered across the floor. But because there was something on the other side of the door.

Them.

Even muffled, he could tell it was their voices. Shouto’s low and steady, Hitoshi’s sharp and breaking in places he’d never heard before. It shouldn’t have mattered, not after the way his chest had collapsed under the sight of those omegas leaning toward what should’ve been his, but… it did. Their presence seeped through the wood, steadying something inside him he didn’t want to admit was weak.

His tears slowed, each sob hiccuping into silence until all that was left was the faint sound of him sniffling, breath catching every so often. Stubbornness anchored him against the door even when every part of him ached to undo the lock, to fling it open and let them hold him until he forgot this whole night.

But Katsuki didn’t do *easy*.

He scoffed at himself, the sound bitter and watery. What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in their necks, let their scents smother the ache in his chest, let their arms pin him back together. So why the fuck was he sitting here like some stubborn bastard, refusing to open the damn door?

Because he was a coward. Because if he saw them now, if he looked into their eyes after everything, he wasn’t sure he’d survive what he saw there. Disappointment, maybe. Confirmation that he’d been right all along, that a beta wasn’t enough, that they’d realized it too late.

He was the worst.

Sniffling again, he pressed his palms harder against his face, as if he could shove the thought away.

The muffled sound of his name reached him then, so soft he almost thought he imagined it. “Katsuki.” Shouto. Calm but frayed at the edges.

Then Hitoshi, rough and guttural. “Baby, please.”

Katsuki’s chest clenched so hard it hurt. He shoved his hands over his ears, refusing to let it sink in. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t.

But something else cut through.

At first, he thought it was just his ragged breathing, or maybe the faint scrape of someone shifting in the hallway. Then it came again. Sharper. Louder.

Scratching.

No—not scratching. Clawing.

Katsuki’s head jerked up, eyes wide and stinging. He stared at the door as the sound dragged hard against the wood, nails scraping like they meant to tear through it. Hitoshi’s nails. Shouto’s. The steady rhythm of claw marks that carried a raw edge of desperation.

For a second, his brain refused to process it. His alphas were clawing at the door? Like they were feral? Like if the wood didn’t yield, they’d rip it apart with their bare hands?

A laugh bubbled out of him then, bitter and sharp, tearing out of his throat before he could stop it. “What the fuck,” he muttered, voice thick. “Why the hell would they—”

Why the hell would they come feral for a beta?

Instinct wasn’t supposed to work like that. Instinct drove alphas to omegas, pulled them to the softest, most yielding thing their bodies were wired to crave. Betas were background noise, neutral, tolerated but never craved. If Hitoshi and Shouto were really slipping under, if their instincts were taking control, shouldn’t they be looking for an omega mate? Shouldn’t they be pounding on Kaminari’s door, or shoving into Deku’s space?

But they weren’t.

They were here. With him. Their claws dragged raw against his door, voices cracking as they tried to coax him out.

And that realization—more than the sobbing, more than the ache, more than the jagged pit of insecurity—stole the breath from his lungs.

They weren’t looking for some omega. They were looking for *him*.

His legs trembled as he shifted, pressing one palm flat against the door for balance. His body felt heavy, leaden from crying, muscles weak from curling too tight for too long. But he pushed anyway, wobbling until he forced himself upright.

The clawing stopped instantly at the creak of floorboards under his weight. The silence on the other side was so sharp it made his pulse thunder.

He wiped the heel of his hand across his face, smearing tears he couldn’t hide, and curled his fingers around the handle. His knuckles were white, grip shaking.

He hesitated. His stubbornness screamed to stay put, to hold the line, to keep punishing himself for not being enough. But the ache in his chest—the one their voices had already softened—pushed harder.

With a sharp inhale, Katsuki twisted the knob.

The door groaned as it shifted, catching on the weight he’d been pressing against it. He shoved himself back just enough, the gap widening until it opened fully.

And then he saw them.

Shouto and Hitoshi stood shoulder to shoulder, both of them flushed with panic, hair disheveled, eyes wide and glowing faintly with the sharp edge of alpha instinct. Their hands were raw, reddened from scraping against the door, nails chipped from clawing at the wood. They looked wild, feral—two predators ripped out of their careful skins.

And every ounce of that desperation was aimed at him.

Katsuki’s breath hitched, the sound breaking. His knees wobbled again, but this time it wasn’t weakness. It was something else—something terrifying and overwhelming in its intensity.

Because for the first time in hours, maybe longer, he didn’t feel like a beta caught in the middle of a story that didn’t want him.

He felt like theirs.

The door had barely opened before everything blurred.

Katsuki didn’t even get a second to step back, didn’t get the chance to prepare a retort, some scathing remark to cover the way his hands shook and his cheeks burned from crying. The moment Shouto and Hitoshi registered that there was no barrier between them, they lunged.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t calm. It was wild.

Suddenly Katsuki was swallowed, scooped up like they’d been starving and he was the only thing left in the world worth devouring. Hitoshi’s arms locked around his waist first, dragging him tight to his chest with a growl that rumbled through both their ribs. Shouto wasn’t a heartbeat behind, pressing in from the side, an arm curling over Katsuki’s shoulders, his face shoving hard against Katsuki’s neck.

And then there was no air. No space. Just them.

Their scents crashed into him, sharp and heavy, alphas gone frantic in a way Katsuki had only ever read about in textbooks or overheard from omegas talking about their “mates going protective.” He’d thought that kind of intensity was reserved for fated pairs, the kind of alpha-omega nonsense that always made his stomach twist with bitterness.

But right now?

Right now he was drowning in it.

Shouto’s scent was crisp, like fresh frost over woodsmoke, cool and searing at once. Hitoshi’s clung heavier, an electric thrum threaded through darker undertones that always reminded Katsuki of night air just before a storm broke. Both of them pressed hard against his skin, mouths and noses burying into the crook of his neck, dragging along his jaw, rubbing against his hair.

It wasn’t careful. They weren’t careful.

Katsuki could feel the scrape of their teeth, the frantic drag of their mouths like they were trying to mark him everywhere at once, as though scenting him wasn’t enough unless it was layered, thick, impossible to scrub off. Hitoshi growled when Shouto pressed in harder, and Shouto snapped back with a sharp rumble of his own, the vibrations colliding against Katsuki’s chest until he swore he could feel his bones rattling.

They were… fighting. Over him.

Not with words, not with real intent, but with the kind of instinct-deep, alpha-deep battle to see who could get closer, who could rub harder, who could press more of themselves onto him. Hitoshi shifted Katsuki higher against his chest, grip tightening like he’d never let go, while Shouto all but crawled over them both, fingers threading into Katsuki’s hair and tugging him toward his mouth.

Katsuki didn’t know what the hell to do.

His body was stiff, arms pinned between them, brain scrambling to make sense of anything while his throat stayed tight with unshed sound. He should shove them off. He should yell. He should—something. Anything.

Instead, all he could do was *melt*.

The heat of them burned through his skin, the press of their hearts hammering against him, their voices low and guttural as they snarled at each other in wordless frustration—yet never letting him go, never pulling away.

And Katsuki… Katsuki broke.

Not in the ugly, jagged way he had alone in his room, fists stuffed against his mouth to muffle the sound. Not in the bitter collapse that had driven him to think about omegas and lube and how much easier everything would be if he weren’t himself.

This time the tears slid down soft. Quiet. Not from shame, but from release.

A sound cracked out of his throat, half-sob, half-laugh, and before he knew it his face was shoving itself against Hitoshi’s collarbone, burrowing hard like if he just pressed deep enough he could fuse himself there. His arms came free somehow, clutching at Shouto’s shirt from the side, nails digging in like he was the one going feral now.

The flood he’d been holding back, all the pain and fear and insecurity—none of it mattered against the way they were touching him now.

He nuzzled harder, greedy, reckless, his tears soaking into fabric that already smelled like him from how violently they’d been rubbing against him. Every kiss and scrape of teeth along his jaw made his knees weaker, until the only thing holding him up was their combined grip, both of them refusing to loosen even an inch.

Katsuki let out a strangled sound that might’ve been another sob, might’ve been a laugh—he couldn’t tell anymore. His body felt boneless, strung out between them, too stunned to fight, too overwhelmed to think.

For once, he didn’t want to think.

He let himself go slack, let their arms rearrange him, let their mouths claim every inch of his skin they could reach. His breath stuttered against the onslaught, but the tears kept coming, softer now, streaking down his cheeks as though his body had decided the only way to survive this was to cry it out.

Relief. Release. Something deeper than either.

He didn’t know if this was what omegas felt when their alphas went wild over them, didn’t know if this was the kind of feral protection his mom had once hinted at when she’d described his dad in his younger years.

But if it was—if this was even a fraction of that—then maybe he wasn’t so cursed for being a beta after all.

Maybe, against all odds, against everything stories and society had shoved down his throat, maybe this intensity could belong to him too.

And god, it was terrifying.

Terrifying, and addictive, and he never wanted them to stop.

Katsuki’s face was smushed against Shouto’s chest, the crisp, icy-clean scent of him burning sharp in his lungs. His tears had soaked a patch through the fabric already, but neither of them seemed to care. They were still clinging, still rubbing, still half-growling at each other over who got to hold him tighter.

He’d gone pliant between them, too stunned to keep resisting, but Katsuki Bakugou was nothing if not restless. His eyes cracked open, lashes sticky from crying, and he blinked past Shouto’s shoulder—and froze.

The door. Wide open.

The hallway beyond lay in clear view, the light spilling into his room like an open invitation for anyone passing by to catch sight of him—red-eyed, tear-streaked, smothered between his two alphas like some fragile thing he didn’t even recognize himself as.

A strangled noise burst out of him before he could stop it. “The door—!”

It was pathetic, the way his voice cracked, but he didn’t care. Panic flared through him, hot and humiliating, and his hands immediately scrambled at Shouto’s chest, pushing uselessly because Shouto wasn’t moving an inch.

Hitoshi paused mid-scrape of his teeth along Katsuki’s nape. His head lifted sharply, violet eyes flashing in the dim light. The low, steady sound of his snuffling cut off, and he swung his focus toward the open door like a predator spotting prey.

A growl ripped out of him, deep enough to vibrate against Katsuki’s bones. “Close it.” His voice was rough, alpha command laced through every syllable.

Shouto snapped his head up from where he’d been dragging his mouth along Katsuki’s jaw, his mismatched eyes narrowing immediately on the open doorway as well. The sharp line of his mouth twisted, his own growl building in his throat.

“You close it,” Shouto bit out, the refusal edged with steel.

The air between them bristled. Katsuki could feel it in the way their bodies tightened against him, not against each other, not threatening—but possessive, protective, both of them unwilling to loosen their grips even for a second.

Neither wanted to let go.

Katsuki scoffed, breathless against the crush of them. “Seriously?!...Idiots”

“Mine,” Hitoshi snarled, so low and unconscious it was nearly a whisper, his chest rumbling hard against Katsuki’s back. Still glaring toward the door but burying his mouth against Katsuki’s throat all the same.

“Mine,” Shouto echoed from the front, his forehead pressing tight to Katsuki’s temple.

The word cracked something open in Katsuki’s chest. His throat squeezed around the sudden rush of heat. Katsuki jolted with a laugh that came out wrecked and soft. “Dumbasses,” he muttered, tilting his head back enough to look between them. “I’m both of yours.”

He surged up, quick and sure, brushing a kiss against Shouto’s mouth, then twisting to press one to Hitoshi’s lips too. Both alphas went still for a heartbeat—then rumbled low, voices overlapping into a raw, satisfied growl.

“Stupid alphas”

“Ours.”

The sound made Katsuki’s pulse jump, his ears burning. For a moment, he almost forgot about the damn door. Almost.

Then the light from the hallway caught the corner of his eye again, and his whole body stiffened. He shoved his elbows against them, wriggling with a stubborn scowl. “Let me go—I’ll close it myself, dammit!”

Shouto huffed against his skin. “No.”

“Not happening,” Hitoshi snapped, arms tightening like steel around his waist.

Katsuki growled, twisting harder, teeth gritted as he tried to wedge his way free.

They both groaned in protest, the sound pitched closer to a whine than either of them would ever admit, smothering him even closer as though that would make him give up. But Katsuki wasn’t giving in, not when the damn door was still wide open.

Katsuki finally tore free with a sharp twist of his hips and a snarl that was more bark than bite. Hitoshi’s arms slipped from around his waist, Shouto’s grip on his shoulder broke, and Katsuki stumbled forward a step, free at last. His heart thundered, but not from fear. From the sheer fucking audacity of these two.

He shoved his sleeves across his damp face, scowling. “Pathetic. The both of you.”

They made noise in response but neither lunged to drag him back. They followed. Of course they followed, close on his heels, their footsteps heavy, breaths uneven, scents still sharp in the air.

Katsuki stormed toward the door, muttering curses under his breath. It wasn’t until he reached it that he realized his hands were shaking, but he shoved the door shut anyway, the bang echoing through the room. He snapped the lock with a hard twist, and the click was more satisfying than it had any right to be.

He let out a breath. *Finally. Privacy.*

But the relief lasted all of two seconds.

Because when he turned, their shadows fell over him.

He barely had time to straighten before he was pressed back, shoulders smacking the wood with a dull thud. Shouto was on his left, Hitoshi on his right, both braced forward, caging him in without a sliver of escape.

His pulse spiked instantly.

Two pairs of eyes locked on him, and Katsuki swore he forgot how to breathe. Hitoshi’s violet eyes glowed darker under the dim light, sharp as a predator cornering prey. Shouto’s heterochromatic gaze burned with something hungrier, colder and hotter all at once. Both looked ready to devour him—yet the edges of their hunger weren’t cruel. They were… tender. Affectionate.

It hit Katsuki like a punch to the gut.

The way their jaws were set, teeth bared just enough to show restraint, the way their chests rose and fell hard against him, their scents flaring sharp and insistent in the confined air—this wasn’t just alpha instinct snapping wild. This was possession. This was devotion.

And it was aimed at him.

Katsuki’s fingers curled tight at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “The fuck are you two—” His voice cracked embarrassingly high, and he snapped his mouth shut, glaring.

Neither answered.

They just stared at him, cornering him deeper against the wood, bodies radiating heat, their closeness so intense Katsuki could feel the air squeeze out of the space around him. He swallowed hard, throat dry, every nerve in his body screaming at once.

It was as if while his back was turned—while he was fussing over the damn door—they’d made some unspoken decision. To claim him. Together.

Katsuki’s chest stuttered with a breath he didn’t want them to hear. His pulse thumped so loud it hurt. “You—” he started, only for Hitoshi to lean in close, his breath hot against Katsuki’s ear.

“Ours.”

The word was low, guttural, almost a growl.

Before Katsuki could snap back, Shouto tilted his head, pressing his nose to Katsuki’s jaw. His voice was calmer, but no less fierce. “Ours. Always.”

Katsuki’s knees nearly buckled. He hated it. He loved it. He wanted to shove them off. He wanted to sink until there was no part of him that wasn’t held by them. His breath came ragged, caught between a growl and a gasp, and his hands—traitorous, disobedient—lifted of their own accord, clutching fistfuls of their shirts.

“You’re both—” His words broke again, shaky, and he bit them back with a frustrated hiss.

Shouto leaned harder, pressing Katsuki’s shoulder into the door, while Hitoshi dipped lower, burying his nose against Katsuki’s throat again, inhaling sharp. Both alphas snarled at each other, not with malice but with frustration, a feral tug-of-war over who got more of him.

Katsuki trembled—not from fear, never fear—but from the sheer overwhelming heat of it. He could feel the wood at his back, the press of two solid bodies pinning him in place, the weight of their scents and their stares smothering him. His body wanted to fight. His heart wanted to give in.

He lifted his chin, defiant even with his face flushed, glaring between them both. “You look like you’re about to eat me alive.”

Hitoshi’s lips curved into a sharp grin, teeth flashing against his neck. “Maybe we are.”

Shouto’s eyes softened at the edges, though the hunger never dimmed. “You do look delectable"

Something in Katsuki snapped at that—some mix of desire and relief. A wet laugh clawed its way out of his lungs, broken and trembling. He shook his head, forehead thudding back against the door.

“God, you two...”

Hitoshi licked the shell of his ear in answer, growl rumbling through his throat. Shouto pressed a kiss under his jaw, sharp and lingering.

Katsuki’s hands fisted tighter in their shirts. His body burned, his pulse raced, and for the first time in his life, the weight of two alphas pressing him into a corner didn’t make him feel less.

It made him feel wanted. Claimed. Cherished.

And maybe—just maybe—he could live with that.