{

“Shouta, I think they’re eating a rock.”

“What?!”

Shouta immediately turned from where he had been cleaning his claws, his golden eyes locking onto their hatchling—who, indeed, was chewing on a large rock.

Izuku blinked. “Oh, never mind. They spat it out.”

Shouta groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “They’re going to kill me.”

Izuku grinned, watching as their child, completely unbothered, pounced on a butterfly. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be a parent.”

Shouta sighed. “I didn’t realize parenting involved stopping them from eating the environment.”

Izuku chuckled, shaking his head. “They’ll be fine.”

Shouta gave him a look. “You say that now, but in ten minutes, they’re going to find something else to put in their mouth.”

Izuku glanced back at their child—who was now trying to swallow a fistful of dirt.

He sighed. “…Okay, maybe you have a point.”

Shouta groaned again.

{

Their hatchling had been growing fast.

Too fast.

Their little wings had strengthened, their legs becoming steadier, their teeth sharper.

And one day, after weeks of watching their parents hunt, they decided—

“I wanna hunt too!”

Izuku immediately beamed. “That’s great! You can—”

“Absolutely not,” Shouta interrupted, crossing his arms. “Too dangerous.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Shouta, they need to learn eventually.”

“Not yet.”

“They’re literally a dragon.”

“They are a baby dragon.”

Their child huffed, puffing up indignantly. “I’m not a baby!”

Shouta gave them a look. “You still trip over your own tail.”

Their hatchling growled, flaring their tiny wings. “That was one time.”

“It was yesterday.”

Izuku smothered a laugh, nudging Shouta. “C’mon, we can go with them. We won’t let them get hurt.”

Shouta exhaled through his nose, clearly unhappy but outnumbered.

“Fine.”

Their child immediately let out an excited chirp, bouncing in place. “I’m gonna catch the biggest prey!”

Izuku grinned, ruffling their hair. “I believe in you.”

Shouta sighed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

It was.

Their hatchling tried their best, really.

But their idea of ‘hunting’ was jumping onto a deer’s back and clinging to it while it ran in circles, screaming.

Izuku wheeze-laughed.

Shouta sighed so hard it could have knocked down a tree.

“Get them off,” he grumbled.

Izuku, still laughing, gently swooped in and plucked their hatchling off the deer, who immediately bolted into the trees.

Their child pouted. “I almost had it!”

“Sure you did, love,” Izuku chuckled, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “Maybe next time.”

Shouta just shook his head, already regretting his life choices.

{

As time passed, something changed in Izuku.

He had been terribly protective in the beginning—territorial, restless, guarding their child and Shouta like a dragon hoarding treasure.

But after weeks of adjusting, his protectiveness became something else.

Something feral.

Something their child inherited.

It started with small things—Izuku casually baring his teeth at a bird that got too close, flaring his wings at a passing fox, snarling when Shouta tried to move their nest around.

And their hatchling?

They copied everything.

One day, Shouta walked into the den and found them both crouched over their food, growling at nothing, tails lashing.

He blinked. “…What are you two doing?”

“Guarding our food,” Izuku answered seriously.

Their hatchling nodded. “From enemies.”

Shouta stared at them. “There are no enemies.”

Izuku huffed. “That’s what they want you to think.”

Their child hissed for extra emphasis.

Shouta sighed. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Izuku smirked, tilting his head. “You like it.”

Shouta’s eye twitched. “I tolerate it.”

Their child giggled, clearly enjoying their parents’ dynamic. “Papa likes it when Daddy is wild!”

Izuku laughed. “See? They get it.”

Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am so tired.”

{

Shouta was graceful.

He was elegant in battle, smooth in flight, and effortlessly precise in everything he did.

Which was why it was so funny when he tripped.

It didn’t happen often.

But when it did—

Izuku and their hatchling lost it.

The first time, it had been a simple misstep.

Shouta had landed after a long flight, only to trip on a random branch, his usually graceful composure shattering as he face-planted into the ground.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

Izuku wheezed.

Their hatchling cackled.

Shouta slowly lifted his head, his expression murderous as he spat out dirt.

“You two are not allowed to laugh,” he grumbled.

Izuku fell over, clutching his stomach, his shoulders shaking. “I—Shouta— your face—*”

Their child rolled on the ground, kicking their little legs. “Papa fell! Papa fell!”

Shouta groaned, rubbing his face. “You’re both horrible.”

“We love you,” Izuku wheezed, reaching over to pat his mate’s head. “So much.”

Shouta grumbled, but his golden eyes softened as Izuku kissed him, his laughter still warm against his lips.

And even years later, every time Shouta tripped or stumbled, Izuku and their child never let him forget it.

“I swear to the gods,” Shouta muttered one evening after another tragic misstep, “I am going to set both of you on fire.”

“No, you won’t,” Izuku grinned, pressing a kiss to Shouta’s cheek.

“Nope!” their child chirped. “‘Cause you love us!”

Shouta sighed dramatically, pulling them both into a tight embrace.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered.

Izuku laughed, burying his face against his mate’s shoulder.

Because at the end of the day—

This was home.

This was family.

This was forever.