Chapter Text
The post-war hero world had learned to breathe again.
Slowly, unevenly, like a city waking from anesthesia.
There were still reconstruction sites, still Commission press releases dripping with unnecessary optimism, still reminders everywhere of what had been lost.
But tonight, high in the hills above the city, at Yaoyorozu’s large estate, the heroes were determined to celebrate.
Jiro had hit a major music contract milestone.
And the nation’s strongest pro heroes were, for once, not preparing for a battle, but a party.
The war had reshaped society in strange ways, but one thing was certain: no one underestimated an Omega anymore. Certainly not one like Todoroki Shoto.
Especially not his Alphas.
The triad had become something of a phenomenon in the hero world, whispered about with fondness, curiosity, and occasional nosy speculation.
Alpha Bakugo, Alpha Kirishima, Omega Todoroki.
Three top-tier heroes tied together not by instinct alone, but by choice. By something strange and beautiful that had survived the war alongside them.
Bakugo eased his car into the massive driveway, headlights cutting across rows of luxury vehicles until they settled on the marble steps of the mansion.
Music drifted through the front windows—warm, heavy bass, something Jiro must have curated herself.
He parked. The engine clicked into silence.
And Kirishima was already unbuckling. “Wait a sec, Shoki,” he said, slinging the door open.
Bakugo didn’t even have time to glare before Kirishima rounded the hood and opened the backseat door with a flourish.
Todoroki blinked up at him, wide eyed and faintly amused. “I can open my own door.”
“Yeah, but why?” Kirishima offered his hand like they were arriving at a royal gala, not a semi casual hero hangout. “C’mon, handsome.”
Todoroki took the hand. Because he always did.
He stepped out, looking unfairly good in light jeans and a cropped long-sleeved shirt that showed just a hint of midriff when he moved.
It had been Kirishima’s idea. The man had threatened to hide half Todoroki’s wardrobe if he didn’t at least try something that wasn’t a high collar and/or floor length.
Todoroki tugged the hem down immediately.
Kirishima tutted at him, batting gently at his hands. “Stop fussing.”
“It feels impractical,” Todoroki muttered.
“We’re going to a party,” Kirishima reminded him, leaning in to kiss Todoroki’s cheek. “You look hot, baby.”
Bakugo finally stepped out of the driver’s seat, shutting the door with his hip.
His outfit wasn’t anything fancy—dark jeans, fitted black shirt, jacket slung over one shoulder.
Casual but good enough that Kirishima had given a low appreciative whistle earlier.
Bakugo looked Todoroki up and down, eyes snagging for a heartbeat on the exposed skin. “If the shirt’s pissing you off, take my jacket.”
Todoroki pouted. “But then you’ll be cold.”
“I have two built-in space heaters for partners,” Bakugo deadpanned. “I’ll survive.”
Kirishima laughed. Todoroki flushed.
And then Todoroki tugged his shirt down again.
Kirishima slapped his hands away again.
Bakugo rolled his eyes so affectionately it practically counted as a kiss.
“You keep yanking on it,” Bakugo said, stepping closer, “and I’ll put the jacket on you myself like I’m your mom.”
Todoroki stared at him, unimpressed. “Rude.”
“Nah,” Bakugo said, hooking a knuckle under Todoroki’s chin, “just bossy.”
Kirishima laughed so loudly it echoed off the mansion walls. “We’re not even inside yet and you two are bickering.”
Bakugo grunted. Todoroki adjusted his hair.
Kirishima slung his arms around both their shoulders and pulled them forward as they started walking up the steps.
To any onlooker—and there were plenty, lingering on the balcony, greeting arrivals—the three of them looked like a perfectly well tuned pack.
Todoroki was fiddling with his shirt, Kirishima was snickering, and Bakugo was so in love with both of them it made his ribs ache.
The night was still young. The music was calling.
And the triad stepped into the glow of the party together.
*
The music hit them first—a deep, bass-heavy pop mix that vibrated pleasantly through the polished floors of the entry hall.
Which, knowing Jiro, was exactly the point.
Bakugo barely got three steps inside before he spotted two familiar figures posted at the snack table.
Midoriya was talking with ferocious enthusiasm, hands slicing wildly through the air as he explained something.
Uraraka nodded along with soft, indulgent patience, smiling like she’d long accepted her role as emotional-support Beta for every excited Alpha within a ten-foot radius.
Bakugo snorted. “Great. He’s gonna start lecturing me, I can feel it.”
Todoroki touched Bakugo’s elbow. “Do you want me to say something to him?”
“Nope,” Bakugo said, already peeling away. “I’m goin’ in.”
Kirishima grinned and slapped Bakugo’s back as he left. “Tell him we’re proud of him for whatever the hell he’s talking about.”
“Not happening,” Bakugo called over his shoulder.
Uraraka spotted him first, lighting up. Midoriya whipped around mid-sentence, eyes already sparkling, voice pitching up in pure joy.
Bakugo groaned internally. He was about to get hugged so hard his ribs would hurt.
But he still walked straight toward them.
Because he always did.
Meanwhile, Kirishima and Todoroki drifted deeper into the crowd.
And this was where Kirishima absolutely shined.
He walked through parties like sunlight personified—warm, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
And tonight he had his Omega on his arm, which meant his confidence was dialed up to eleven.
“Jiro!” he called the moment he spotted her.
She was by the bar with Kaminari and Sero, all three laughing over something Kaminari was showing them on his phone.
The moment they approached, Jiro straightened and smirked. “Well, look who finally showed up.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Kirishima said, guiding Todoroki a little forward. “Had to make sure Shoto looked perfect.”
Todoroki blinked at her. “He made me change my shirt.”
“You look so good in blue,” Kirishima insisted, smoothing his thumb along Todoroki’s jaw.
Jiro snorted. “You’re such a simp.”
“And proud of it,” Kirishima said without hesitation.
Kaminari leaned over to Sero. “He’s really out here flexing his Omega like a limited-edition collectible.”
Sero nodded sagely.
Todoroki looked between them, completely unfazed. “Thank you,” he said, because he had decided long ago that anything they said was probably meant as a compliment.
That only made Kaminari laugh harder.
Kirishima wrapped an arm around Todoroki’s waist, beaming. “Seriously though—congratulations, Jiro. We’re so damn proud of you.”
Todoroki nodded earnestly. “Your new song is excellent. I added it to all our playlists.”
Jiro’s ears flushed pink. “Thanks, Shoto. That means a lot.”
“And,” Todoroki added thoughtfully, “Katsuki said your high notes could probably shatter a villain’s femur if you wanted.”
Kaminari laughed. “That is the sweetest threat ever delivered.”
Sero nodded. “Poetic, even.”
Kirishima kissed the top of Todoroki’s head. “He’s right though.”
Todoroki melted just slightly under the praise—not submissive, just soft, shoulders loosening as his scent warmed. A tiny shift only his pack would notice.
And Kirishima noticed everything.
He squeezed Todoroki’s hip. “Want a drink? Or wanna keep doing a lap?”
Todoroki tilted his head, thoughtful. “Hmm... Lap first.”
“Sure, baby.” Kirishima turned back to Jiro. “We’ll come bother you later.”
“You always do,” she said, smirking.
They drifted away again, Todoroki tucked securely against Kirishima’s side as the crowd parted around them, several heroes stopping to say hi or simply compliment Todoroki on his outfit.
Todoroki thanked every single one of them politely.
Kirishima thanked them too, with the pride of a man who wanted the whole world to know exactly who he loved.
From across the room, Bakugo glanced over mid-conversation with Midoriya.
Saw them. Watched Kirishima’s hand settle on Todoroki’s waist. Saw Todoroki lean into it instinctively.
He swallowed something warm and painful.
God, they looked good together.
God, he didn’t deserve either of them.
Midoriya was still rambling about—something? Safety protocols?
Bakugo honestly had no idea.
But for that one moment, Bakugo’s chest squeezed tight.
*
The party had broken into clusters of small games: cards at one table, darts in the corner, a pool table near the back.
Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero had claimed the table immediately.
Kirishima chalked his cue with far too much confidence. Kaminari leaned against the table with the smugness of someone who was definitely losing.
Todoroki stood nearby with Ashido, watching the game with glowing pride.
Kirishima was spectacularly bad at pool, and yet he was loving every second of it.
Todoroki loved that about him—the earnestness, the heart-first energy, the joy he never bothered hiding.
Ashido nudged Todoroki gently. “He’s so cute when he tries to pretend he knows what he’s doing.”
Todoroki nodded. “He’s improved, actually.”
From across the room, Kirishima sank exactly zero balls and fist-pumped anyway.
Ashido snorted. “You’re so smitten.”
“Yeah, well. I love him,” Todoroki said simply.
Ashido melted. “Ugh, you’re adorable.”
Before she could tease him further, Bakugo drifted over from the kitchen, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed in that deceptively casual way.
His eyes landed on Todoroki, and softened just a little.
“You good?” Bakugo asked, voice lower than necessary. “Need anything? Water?”
“I’m fine,” Todoroki said, smiling at him. “Thank you.”
Bakugo stepped a little closer. Todoroki shifted instinctively toward him, tilting his chin just enough to offer his scent.
Bakugo leaned in and brushed his nose along Todoroki’s jaw—his warm scent settling deep into Todoroki’s bones.
Todoroki exhaled softly, leaning into him.
Ashido watched with a grin, like she was witnessing her favorite slow burn romance finally paying off.
Before Bakugo could step back, Kirishima called across the table.
“Hey, Suki! Help me with this shot? I swear the table’s crooked or something.”
Bakugo rolled his eyes, but his voice was fond. “It’s not crooked. You just suck.”
“Exactly,” Kirishima said cheerfully. “Come fix me.”
Bakugo gave Todoroki’s waist one last squeeze and stepped away.
Todoroki watched, a little dreamy, as Bakugo circled the table, moving behind Kirishima in one smooth motion.
He slipped his hands over Kirishima’s arms, guiding his stance, adjusting his aim.
It was instinctive. Boyfriend behavior.
Kirishima leaned back into him with zero hesitation, and Bakugo didn’t flinch from the closeness.
Ashido let out a soft sigh. “You really got yourself a pair of hotties, huh Sho?”
Todoroki’s chest warmed. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve them.”
“Probably literally everything you’ve ever been through,” she responded flatly, with a little smile.
They watched Bakugo murmur something low near Kirishima’s ear—probably something technical about angles, but Kirishima laughed like it was a joke instead of advice.
Todoroki adored them. So much it filled him up with all the warm and fuzzies.
He was mid-smile when Ashido nudged him again.
“So… random question,” she said lightly. “When are you guys gonna make it official?”
Todoroki stared at her. “Official?”
“You know.” She gestured vaguely at his neck, her expression soft and supportive. “Marks. Bonds. The whole instinct-y love package. I mean, you guys have been together forever. Everyone can practically feel how solid you three are.”
Todoroki didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem even slightly bothered. “Oh,” he said. “We’re just not ready yet. That’s all.”
Ashido smiled warmly. “That’s totally fair. You know I’m not trying to pressure you, I just assumed you guys would be bonded by now.”
Todoroki nodded. “We’re happy as we are.”
Ashido beamed. “Good. That’s what matters.”
Across the table, Bakugo’s cue paused mid-aim.
Just a tiny hitch.
The guilt hit him like a stone. Right in that soft, still-healing part of his chest.
His jaw tensed. He lined the shot again, suddenly hyper-aware of Todoroki’s exposed neck across the room.
Hyper-aware of the question he never had an answer for.
Kirishima glanced up at Todoroki and waved happily.
Bakugo’s throat tightened.
Because he heard Ashido’s question. He heard Todoroki’s calm, reasonable answer.
But he knew the truth about why they hadn’t bonded yet.
They’re ready. And Bakugo was the one holding them back.
The cue ball cracked against another.
Kirishima cheered.
Todoroki smiled beautifully.
And Bakugo’s chest went just a little tighter.
The night had been warm.
Now the first chill slipped in.
***