Archive of Our Own

“Do you ever want to go apeshit? Don’t you just want to lose your mind? Go crazy, go stupid? Do you ever want to go apeshit? Don’t you just want to lose your mind? Go crazy, go stupid? Do you ever—?”

Hitoshi reached over to his nightstand and shut off his alarm. 10 AM blinked morosely from his lock screen, and an exhausted groan followed. Grateful he hadn’t been responsible for opening— that had been left up to Todoroki, who didn’t have patrol until 2 AM or an 8 AM biomed lecture (may Kaminari rest in pieces)—Hitoshi rolled out of bed.

Literally.

He slumped onto the ground, hitting it with a soft thud, and groaned. It wasn’t a pained groan, given he hadn’t fallen from much height (and, really, he’s plummeted from buildings taller than his own apartment before, his bed was nothing), but more of a tired disgruntlement. His head was pillowed by his arms, but his legs were half-sprawled on the floor and the edge of his bed, trapped by his sheets’ possessive grasp.

After a few half-hearted pulls, Hitoshi gave up and settled down. He would detangle himself at some point. Sleep beckoned, however distant and fleeting it might be.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his slight daze. He wondered if something was wrong with his spine—his position should not be as comfortable as it was. “You alright?” It was Kaminari. “I heard a thump?”

Hitoshi yawned-slash-groaned something unintelligible into the carpet and almost accidentally inhaled a cat toy of a miniature mouse. He was certain he’d said, “I’m fine; don’t worry about me,” but knew it sounded like a string of garbled nonsense to Kaminari. The door creaked open a moment later, and Kaminari made a soft noise at the sight he made.

He opened his eyes and hummed something that could be taken as a good morning.

Kaminari eyed his placement on the floor with a fond expression, staring at the way his legs tangled in his sheets. “Woke up on the wrong side?” teased the blond as edges of his lips quirked into a smile at Hitoshi’s rather pitiful glower. “Need some help, baby?”

Despite knowing Kaminari showered everyone he knew with personal nicknames, it never failed to send warmth and those cliché butterflies into his stomach. They settled deep in his lungs. “I’m good,” Hitoshi managed to say a moment later, just before Kaminari gained that worried furrow between his brows. “Just. Gimme a min.”

Kaminari snickered and gave him a two-fingered salute. “Got it, sweets. I’ll put the kettle on for you~!” With that said, Kaminari slipped out of the room and padded down the hallway. A small, four-legged creature replaced him, stepping inside the room and giving Hitoshi the most unimpressed stare a cat could give a human.

“Shut up,” Hitoshi muttered against the carpet. “You don’t get to do this. Come into my room and judge me. It’s not noon yet.”

Baby Marshmallow, an almost concerningly chubby tabby cat, only flicked an ear and meowed. The bell snug on the middle of his collar chimed as he padded further into the room. Hitoshi gently scrubbed behind Baby Marshmallow’s ear, soft delight curling in his veins at the way the cat purred beneath his fingertips, and listened to the muffled sounds of Kaminari moving in the kitchen.

It took a few minutes, but he managed to detangle himself and stumble inside of the bathroom. Once he brushed his teeth and washed his face, awareness sunk into his bones. No longer feeling as though he’d pass out if he closed his eyes, Hitoshi made his way toward the kitchen where he could hear Kaminari listening to a food podcast.

A mug of steaming tea awaited his arrival on the island counter. It was perched next to a plate of a fried egg and natto on slightly burnt toast. Hitoshi blinked down at it for a moment. “You . . . made me breakfast . . .?”

Hitoshi squinted and gave the plate a dubious stare. While it didn’t look poisoned, he didn’t want to take any chances. The case he was working on was important. Kaminari wasn’t the best at cooking. His skill began and ended with microwavable frozen meals. Even then, often it would be a 30% chance he would somehow set the kitchen on fire.

Kaminari looked up from his chemistry textbook. “Yup!”

Despite it barely being eleven in the morning, Hitoshi thought it too early for such a chirpy response. After another second, Kaminari gave a sheepish chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. With the hand holding the uncapped highlighter, of course. Before Hitoshi could point it out, Kaminari squawked from realization and yanked the pink highlighter from his neck. His cheeks were darker than crimson.

“That didn’t happen.” Kaminari said and pointed the highlighter in his direction threateningly. Hitoshi raised his palms and looked innocent. “Anyway, I lied. Shoucchan made it and I reheated it with my amazing cooking skill!”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow and said, dry and unimpressed, “You mean, the microwave?”

Kaminari coughed and hunched over the book. He highlighted the next word, and Hitoshi knew the man hadn’t read the sentence at all. Typical Denki, he thought to himself, in fond amusement, and took a careful bite of his breakfast.

He hummed in content as flavor burst over his tongue. Although Todoroki’s talents remained in the baking sphere, he had breakfast mastered. Hitoshi was the one who did most of the cooking—if he didn’t, they’d exist on either breakfast foods, pastries, or takeout. Given their overall need for a healthier diet, takeout wasn’t the best option for them.

And if Hitoshi’s diet consisted solely of fried eggs and natto, he would likely go to prison for murder before his thirties.

Kaminari tapped the end of his highlighter against his textbook. Hitoshi allowed the noise to fade into the background, knowing it was a way for Kaminari to focus. He gave the textbook a grimace, mentally sending his friend kudos for doing pro hero work and university courses. Midterm season lurked in the distance, given the increase in peach-flavored jelly packets in both the trash and snack cupboards.

Hitoshi blamed Aizawa for that. His mentor had gotten most of the class hooked on jelly packets by the time they graduated. He liked the strawberry ones the best. Todoroki preferred watermelon. At least the company would never go out of business; not with how they were its sole income at this point.

He scraped through his breakfast, Kaminari muttering in a manner similar to Midoriya throughout. Then he gave Kaminari a head pat or two, saying, “Godspeed,” as he walked toward the kitchen sink. Kaminari sent him a sour glare, causing him to snicker. “I’ll be down in the café if you need me.”

“Tell Midoriya to snap my skull in two,” Kaminari groaned, though more to his rather impressive collection of highlighters than to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi paused for a moment, as if to deliberate, and said, “No.”

Kaminari sniffled and faux cried. “Shoucchan would. He loves me.”

“If it helps you sleep at night.”

Hitoshi chuckled at the way Kaminari sputtered and blew a kiss as he left for the front door. They lived in a three-two apartment above the café-slash-bookstore. It was a convenient placement, especially since they often had to wake early to make dough and batter for the various things they offered customers.

Pawprints doubled as a cat café (though some bloggers would then argue that it was a bakery, since they mostly served desserts and baked goods) and a small, indie bookstore. Hitoshi had coined the name half-drunk and high off the realization he no longer had to return to the negative cesspool he unfortunately called ‘home.’

Paw for the cats and prints to reference the books. It helped that their logo was a purple paw print, their uniform apron was white with their logo stamped across the middle, and customers had the option to get a pawprint stamp on a card. If they visited the café ten times, they would get a complimentary bakery basket and a free hour at the café.

One could even stamp the cats on their birthdays (with non-toxic fur dye, of course), provided they purchased treats beforehand.

It was a safe haven.

They had been crowned #3 safe space for the LGBTQ population. Even before the opening day, Hitoshi had spent countless hours marketing, making certain everyone knew Pawprints would be welcoming to all. No one would have to fear once they stepped through their doors, no matter what their background was, or their quirk, or how they looked.  

Todoroki had once commented that he had become a hero in that way, one that had nothing to do with their main careers.

He stepped out into the short hallway that separated their living space from Pawprints , smiling to himself as he heard the chatter and movement of life. A few cats were meowing persistently, likely begging a customer for treats or attention. Aside from their three personal cats, Pawprints had a rotation of ten. Hitoshi had an appointment with a local shelter to add a few more lovable felines to their roster.

Pawprints functioned as an adopted center for those cats as well. After going through a background check, an interview check, and a house check (Hitoshi refused to give up a cat for them to mistreated; not on his watch), customers could choose to foster or adopt one of their cats. People always expressed interest, of course, but most backed off once they learned of the intensive process Hitoshi had set up.

Not even foster care had as intensive a process as Hitoshi did.

“Someone’s late~,” was someone’s greeting, and Eri swept by in the standard uniform—black slacks, one of the various ‘team shirts’ that Aoyama designed for them, and the apron. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as Hitoshi rolled his eyes. “Rough patrol?”

Hitoshi snorted and lightly pushed at her shoulder, causing a giggle. “When is it not?” He asked, though both were aware it was rhetorical. “How’s the front looking?”

“It’s not too crazy, but it’s getting there,” Eri reported and readjusted the tray of cinnamon rolls in her hands. “I’ve been helping prep and some decorating!”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Hitoshi warned as he stepped further inside the industrial sized kitchen, heading toward the racks that held their aprons. Eri worked at Pawprints unofficially, given she was only thirteen and a half. She didn’t have much need for a part-time job, but she liked to help out whenever she could.  

Eri gave him an apple-cheeked smile and saluted with two fingers. “Got it, boss!”

Hitoshi huffed a quiet laugh. If Aizawa or Yamada were there, they would undoubtedly say it was his influence that caused her to grow so cheeky as she aged. He made quick work of slipping on the apron and tying his hair into a tight, low bun. His hair tended to be gravity-defying, a rather interesting side effect of his quirk and its’ electric components, but after years of trying out hair products, he was able to make it somewhat behave.

He greeted the morning shift employees as he walked through the kitchen. Various scents intermingled with each other—the scones cooling on the rack, the chocolate cupcakes, the blueberry muffins, the almond butter sugar cookies someone was decorating—and blanketed the kitchen in a pleasant aroma. He stepped out of the kitchen to the front of the house, greeting those who called out to him with nods and half-smiles.

True to Eri’s word, a considerate stream of customers flowed onto the floor. Some chose to settle down at the various tables scattered everywhere, others decided to take their orders to go, leaving as quickly as they arrived. Uraraka manned one of the registers with her signature bright smile, laughing whenever a customer pondered how much she resembled the pro hero Uravity.

Sero aided with the second register, skillfully sidestepping a few harried employees tasked with getting the orders. He spotted Kirishima, red hair a beacon, with two cats (Jelly and Watermelon) trying to determinedly climb up his leg. Bakugo looked as disgruntled and displeased as always, but Hitoshi spotted the soft lilt of his mouth whenever Kirishima spoke or laughed.

Some things never changed, it seemed—even seven years later.

“Morning,” chirped Uraraka when he slid behind the counter, murmuring to those harried workers that they could go on break if they needed. “Everyone’s loving your Class A-themed goods!”

“I should hope so,” said Hitoshi, only half joking, and then nodded to Sero. “You’re free to go,” he informed the man, adding, lower, “I know you’ve got patrol in an hour.”

Sero clasped his shoulder with a half-grin. “Thanks, Shin-chan. See y’all tomorrow tonight!”

Hitoshi scowled at the nickname, but knew there was little he could do about it. Back when he transferred into Class 2-A, Asui had christened him “Shinsou-chan” merely three minutes after he declared that he wasn’t “here for friends,” and Ashido worsened his fate by declaring, “Shinsou-chan  was too long, so you’re Shin-chan now!” and Hitoshi had wondered, briefly, if a transfer back to general education, where no one talked to him, was possible.

He gave a slow blink when Sero’s parting words registered. He turned to Uraraka with a raised brow. “What’s happening tomorrow tonight?”

Uraraka only smiled and turned to the line of impatient customers. “Next visitor, please~!”

It’s going to be like that, huh? Hitoshi sighed, resigned and accustomed to the antics of his friends, and then gave the next person in line a polite smile. “What can I get for you, sir?”

By the time the morning and lunch rush settled, Hitoshi wanted to either drown himself in a bottle of something alcoholic or become a human pillow for his cats. He chose the safer option, always wary of going too far with alcohol, and murmured he was “going on break” when there was a ten-minute lull of activity.

Uraraka had been replaced with another employee sometime around noon, since she had her own pro hero duties to attend to.

He busied himself with a cup of tea and grabbed a slice of strawberry cake from the display case. He settled down at one of the vacant window tables, and three of the cats (Triple Threat, Apple, and Menace) greeted him only two minutes later, pressing against his sides and purring to gain attention. He complied with their nonverbal commands with ease, always, in the words of Kaminari, “a simp” when it came to his favorite animal.  

“Afternoon, Hitoshi,” greeted Todoroki as he approached Hitoshi’s table. He had ceded control over the front of the house to Hitoshi sometime after Sero had left for patrol, but before Uraraka needed to leave. “Mind if I sit?”

Hitoshi took a slow sip of tea. “Follow your dreams, Shouto.”

Todoroki blinked at that, a soft pinch between his eyebrows, but took a seat. Triple Threat and Apple abandoned him to snuggle at Todoroki’s warmer side, the little traitors. He placed his laptop on the table with careful movements, his notebook following. If not in uniform, Todoroki was seldom seen far from his laptop or other writing materials.

He gained passion for the written word sometime during second year. When they had done a unit on creative writing, a literary monster had been created in Todoroki’s place and had grown comfortable in his skin.

Not that anyone complained, of course. From Hitoshi’s perspective, writing gave Todoroki a healthier outlet for his emotions (and plethora of family problems) and helped him overcome (to an extent) his problems with control. He wrote under some pseudonym, not wanting whatever he wrote to be connected to his civilian name, but he seldom took effort to keep both identities separate. Hitoshi hadn’t been surprised when a group of particularly dedicated fans had revealed that Pro Hero Duality was, in fact, that popular, #3 best-selling author, Yukimura Shou .

Even when the publishing house set up events or meet-and-greets where Todoroki was expected to attend, his only disguise was a DEKU hat and a URAVITY hoodie, though he often interchanged the merch worn.

Not for the last time, Hitoshi wondered if he should make Todoroki’s agent a gift basket. She certainly needed it for all the headaches Todoroki put her through.

“What’re you working on?” Hitoshi asked when Todoroki had stopped typing for a good five minutes, blinking slowly at his screen as if the words would manifest from mere thought and an intimidating glower. “Need to brainstorm?”

Todoroki hummed, leaning back to stretch a bit. If anyone asked, Hitoshi didn’t stare at the way Todoroki’s muscles strained at the movement. He took another sip (gulp, but who's asking?) of tea. “I’m working on a . . . personal project.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, and then gave Todoroki a flat stare. “Please tell me you’re not writing porn right in front of my cats.”

“Not this time,” said Todoroki, and before Hitoshi could digest that, the man turned the laptop screen around after a few clicks, displaying some type of website. “I’m working on the next chapter for this work,” Todoroki informed him. “I haven’t updated in a few weeks, so I wanted to post something by tomorrow.”

He squinted at the screen. It displayed the title— soba —and the user— notshouto —and the summary, a succinct todoroki declares war when a pomeranian eats the last soba in the dorms . There were currently six chapters.

Hitoshi wasn’t certain what, exactly, he was looking at, but Todoroki’s oddly eager and open expression made his typical commentary halt in its tracks. If there were an audio track in his mind, screeching train tracks would be heard from the public. He gave the webpage a polite stare and cleared his throat. “It’s . . . uh . . . interesting . . .?”

A smile unfurled on Todoroki’s lips. Hitoshi almost choked on his tea, wincing at the scalding liquid. “I got twenty kudos on it,” said Todoroki, pride bright as it danced in his eyes, and enunciated kudos, mouth wrapping around the word slowly. Not that Hitoshi was looking at Todoroki’s mouth, of course. He simply happened to notice it because he was an observant underground pro hero. Right. That would be his story, and he’d be damned if he deviated from it. “And five comments.”

Hitoshi cleared his throat again. “That’s, uh, that’s great.” A weak smile danced on his lips when he glanced back at the website. Who knew Todoroki Shouto . . . wrote fanfiction? Poorly written, borderline hilarious, fanfiction?

About himself.

“Thank you,” said Todoroki, the edges of his lips tilting up. “It’s my most popular fic so far.”

Hitoshi took another longer sip of tea, some part of him hoping it was stronger. “I’m glad for you,” he murmured and was regaled with delight fluttering across Todoroki’s face. “I take it, the Pomeranian in the summary is our resident firecracker?”

Said firecracker yelled out a string of obscenities in response to Kirishima planting a kiss on his forehead, flushed bright and red. Hitoshi looked down at the table, tracing the rim of his mug with his forefinger. The fondness on Bakugou’s face, the soft tilt to Kirishima’s mouth, were far too intimate for him, or anyone, to witness.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Todoroki commented, tone bland yet Hitoshi could pick out the amusement. He swallowed back another chuckle with another sip of tea. “But . . . yes.”

Hitoshi snorted. He drained the rest of his tea and rose to his feet, stretching. His skin prickled beneath the weight of someone’s gaze, though when he turned to see who would be staring at him, he only found Todoroki giving the napkin dispenser an intense stare. Weird, Hitoshi thought to himself and then discarded the thought, making his way back toward the counter.

He slipped back into his apron, humming in tune with the song playing overhead. He wasn’t sure what it was, considering he didn’t listen to pop music unless it was an album from Present Mic, but it was Kaminari’s week to control the café’s playlist, so he couldn’t complain.

Above the door, a bell chimed. Hitoshi smiled in greeting as a familiar silhouette crossed the threshold, strolling toward the front counter with a confident prowl. The years had been kind to Iida Tenya, the once young teen now a young adult corralling his own agency. “Morning, Tenya,” Hitoshi greeted warmly when the man was within hearing distance.

“Good morning, Hitoshi-kun,” said Iida and then, after a pause, added, “Technically, it is the early afternoon.” Hitoshi rolled his eyes and huffed a quiet laugh, muttering a soft, “Never change, Emergency Exit-kun,” under his breath that Iida mock-scowled at. “Nonetheless, it is a wonderful day insofar.”

“Oh?” Hitoshi tapped the ordering screen on the computer, opening the menu options. “Sticking to the schedule again, are we?”

Iida fixed his glasses with a sniff and behaved so similar to an anime character, Hitoshi couldn’t help but snicker. “I would prefer a raspberry chocolate brew,” said Iida as he peered up at the drink menu. He didn’t need to do that, considering he ordered the same thing every day regardless of the hour. Kaminari often joked that Iida single-handedly carried the raspberry-chocolate tea industry. “And a slice of lemon cake.”

Hitoshi tapped the icons on the order screen. “For here or to go?”

“Here, please.”

Iida paid once Hitoshi gave him the final price of his items and made himself comfortable by the seating area of the bar. Hitoshi prepared Iida’s order with familiar ease, letting his friends’ chatter over his recent morning patrol drift over him.  

“Your order, Mr. Emergency Exit,” said Hitoshi as he passed over the teacup and pastry, snickering at the way Iida scrunched his nose. “What?” Hitoshi asked, expression deceptively innocent as he blinked, wide-eyed, at the Turbo Hero. “Don’t like your nickname?”

Iida took a sip of tea, holding the small cup rather delicately. “I would prefer . . . a different one.”

“Alright, Engine Legs.”

Iida grimaced. “I stand corrected—Emergency Exit is fine.”

Hitoshi chuckled warmly at Iida’s expression and went to restock one of the napkin dispensers. He fulfilled a few more orders as customers drifted in and out, keeping a stream of witty quips and teasing conversation as Iida enjoyed his tea. Once he drained it, he set the mug down with a cleared throat. 

“I’m afraid I must head back for patrol,” Iida said and rose to his feet. He left a few ( thousand ) yen in the tip jar, smiling at the narrow-eyed glower Hitoshi sent him. “It is important to support local businesses, Hitoshi-kun,” Iida added in a lofty tone. It’d be well at home at a charity gala, surrounded by the wealthy and upper echelons of society. 

“One day,” Hitoshi started, vaguely threatening as he jabbed a sharpie in Iida’s direction. “I’m going to fight you, and I’ll win.”

Iida sniffed, though the fond amusement in his eyes softened the act. They both knew Hitoshi could wipe the floor with half their classmates on a good day. He had become quite the force to be reckoned with, thanks to experience and Aizawa’s ruthless training regime. “I would like to see you try.” 

Hitoshi blew a raspberry at Iida’s receding back. A few customers who witnessed their daily exchange chuckled or shook their heads in fond exasperation. Hitoshi knew some who only came into Pawprints just because of the early morning Hitoshi-and-Iida show. 

Eri shooed him to the back as some of the ovens had beeped, cheerfully stating she “had it handled” for the front of the house. He knew his little sister would do fine; one of his employees directed her to call out the orders that were ready. 

Hitoshi swapped out the batch of muffins and placed it on the cooling rack, setting another timer as he did so. He placed a new batch of sugar cookies inside the oven and cleaned up a bit, not wanting to have the kitchen be a mess if they happened to have a surprise inspection. He headed back out to the front and poked Eri’s side as he bypassed her. 

“Time for you to head home,” Hitoshi said, and, when Eri scrunched her nose, chuckled. “Have fun being a bratty teenager.” 

Eri stuck her tongue out as she untied her apron. “You know you love me~, Toshi-nii!” 

Hitoshi smiled and snorted. Eri grabbed her bag and waved goodbye as she exited the establishment. The lunch rush ended and the pace slowed. Hitoshi busied himself with the baked goods and the front of the house, restocking items and cleaning up, getting into a steady routine as he moved. 

“I don’t see why you haven’t asked Iida out yet,” came Todoroki’s smooth baritone. If anyone asked, Hitoshi shivered because of the air conditioning. “You know you’re in love with him.”

Hitoshi reached for the stack of laminated menus left behind the counter, spying a refill for the stack near the entrance. “For the last time, Shouto,” he said as he turned to his roommate-slash-friend, a sigh coiled on the tip of his mouth. “I am not in love with Tenya.” It was a sour lie, tasting bitter and acrid as it pooled into his mouth, but it needed to be said.

Todoroki raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you see the way he looks at you.”

Hitoshi snorted. “You’re confusing me with Midoriya.” He swallowed back his bitterness as best as he could at Todoroki’s slow blink of confusion, but he knew some slipped out. He used to have impeccable control over his emotions when he was younger, displaying a blank and cold façade, but life beneath a roof with loving, attentive parents slowly peeled those emotional barriers away. “Tenya doesn’t see me that way, and that’s fine.” 

And besides, Hitoshi thought to himself. I want you and Denki to see me that way . . . but that’s clearly never going to happen.

(No one wanted to fall in love with a brainwasher, after all.)

“Maybe it’s you who needs to go on a date,” Hitoshi teased gently, chuckling at Todoroki’s puzzled blink. “I could . . . set you up with someone,” Hitoshi offered after a pause, attempting to swallow around the ball of pain in his throat at the mere idea. “If you wanted, of course.”

It took Todoroki a moment to respond. “Thank you for the offer,” he said, quiet and slow, taking the time to pick out the right words to say. “But . . . I’m alright . . ..”

There was something off about Todoroki’s expression. Emotions Hitoshi couldn’t name fluttered across those heterochromatic eyes, fleeing behind an icy tundra of walls, whenever Todoroki spoke of hypothetical dates and relationships. Recognition pinged in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

Oh well; it would come to him later. 

Hitoshi smiled and hoped his emotions didn’t bleed through. “If you say so.” 

TRENDING

1. #dekunumberone  1.7M people are tweeting about this.
2. #LGBTQPros  1.1M people are tweeting about this.
3. #PRIDE   968k people are tweeting about this.
4. #shoutowriter   645k people are tweeting about this.

your fave electric hero @chargebolt ⦁ 7h
i would die for these cookies 
[Attached Image: An aesthetic photo of a plate with three sugar cookies, decorated with royal icing. Each one is a different flag from the LGBTQ+ community. The bisexual flag was in the shape of a heart, the polyamory flag had the words ‘happy pride’ iced onto it and was shaped as as an actual rainbow with fluffy clouds on the bottom, and the demisexual flag had the words ‘love wins’ and was shaped as a mini flag.]
56k Retweets 450k Likes

your fave electric hero @chargebolt ⦁ 7h
Replying to @chargebolt
rip my waistline 

gay fear.png @mimikyu ⦁ 7h
Replying to @chargebolt
im literally drooling 

Creati for #1 @swabblues
Replying to @chargebolt, @mimikyu
same 

LOVIN’ WOMEN @URAVITY ⦁ 7h
Replying to @chargebolt
OMG TELL SHIN-CHAN IM OMW 

gonna lose it @hana ⦁ 7h
please tell me this place always has these cookies and it’s not just a marketing ploy
[QRT: your fave electric hero @chargebolt: i would die for these . . .]
24k Retweets 875k Likes

your fave electric hero @chargebolt ⦁ 7h
Replying to @hana
its not a marketing ploy!! it was created by the lovely head baker (and co-owner) of @PawPrintsCafe, but these themed cookies are always available :D pride just makes him make most of the baked goods like this

gonna lose it @hana ⦁ 7h
Replying to @chargebolt
BET 

Welcome to Pawprints @PawPrintsCafe ⦁ 7h
i’d prefer you alive, thanks
[QRT: your fave electric hero @chargebolt: i would die for these . . .]
64k Retweets 249k Likes

your fave electric hero @chargebolt ⦁ 7h
Replying to @PawPrintsCafe
SHIN-CHAAAAAAN

shouto @shouto ⦁ 7h
second this
[QRT: your fave electric hero @chargebolt: i would die for these . . .]
57k Retweets 579k Likes

Welcome to Pawprints @PawPrintsCafe ⦁ 7h
Replying to @shouto
no

your fave electric hero @chargebolt ⦁ 7h
Replying to @PawPrintsCafe
too late he’s already in the cult

Welcome to Pawprints @PawPrintsCafe ⦁ 7h
Replying to @chargebolt
the what.

duabolt for life @duabolt ⦁ 7h
duabolt crumbs (literally) [pleading_face emoji]
[QRT: shouto @shouto: second this . . .]
?k Retweets ?k Likes

SPOTLIGHT!! Magazine @SPOTLIGHT ⦁ 7h
Would @PawPrintsCafe agree to an interview? Or a spotlight in SPOTLIGHT!! ?
?k Retweets ?k Likes

Welcome to Pawprints @PawPrintsCafe ⦁ 7h
Replying to @SPOTLIGHT
We’d love to! Please DM so we can figure things out!

SPOTLIGHT!! Magazine @SPOTLIGHT ⦁ 7h
Replying to @PawPrintsCafe
Perfect! 

dynamight for #1 @rredriot ⦁ 7h
shin-chan out here getting that clout 
67k Retweets 478k Likes

Welcome to Pawprints @PawPrintsCafe ⦁ 7h
Replying to @rredriot
im going to block you 

Dynamight for #1 @rredriot ⦁ 7h
Replying to @PawPrintsCafe
no, you wont

Welcome to Pawprints @PawPrintsCafe ⦁ 7h
Replying to @rredriot
you’re right but you dont have to say it, damn 

From the phone records of Shinsou Hitoshi.

Today at 1:56 A.M.

Contact(s): Kaminari Denki, Todoroki Shouto

-- the boys -- 

KD: i got okonomiyaki hehe

TS: r u gona shre

KD: no

TS: whore

SH: whore 

KD: only for y’all [kissy face emoji]

KD: wait

KD: shin-chan ur on patrol pay attention 

SH: the only other living thing awake rn is the squirrel across the street

KD: so????

KD: im telling sensei 

SH: fuck u

TS: top ten anime betrayals 

Hitoshi stumbled downstairs. His side twinged as he leaned against the wall for support, wincing when he pressed his hand against the area to feel it wet and warm. Bleeding, Hitoshi noted distantly. Shit. I’m bleeding. He hoped it didn’t get over the floors. Blood stains were a bitch and a half to clean up, but at least the floors weren’t wood (or carpet). 

It took a few more stabilizing breaths, but Hitoshi managed to inch forward, though he nearly hugged the wall as he moved. He made it upstairs to his apartment with little problem, though much slower than normal, which, given his injury, was understandable. He heard muted noise as he let himself in, sliding off his shoes in the genkan. 

Likely the TV, considering the muffled voices sounded cartoonish. He wondered if Todoroki had fallen asleep with another Studio Ghibli movie playing in the background. He grabbed one of their many first aid kits stashed around the house, this one stowed beneath the kitchen sink as he also wanted a snack, and spread out the materials he needed, hesitant fingers poking at the graze on his skin. 

He probably shouldn’t patch himself up in the kitchen, since that was where they ate and made food, but he didn’t have the energy to drag himself into his room with the first aid supplies. He didn’t want to make Kaminari or Todoroki worried, either, despite the fact that injuries were just a common way of life in their career. 

He patched himself up efficiently with the movie Kiki’s Delivery Service playing in the background, rolling his shirt down once he finished. It wasn’t a serious wound--but he would probably take a few days off patrol because of it. Healing quirks were rare and often used in severe cases; the people he knew who had healing quirks were burned by their twenties, considering the high rate of injuries in villain attacks on both the civilian side and the heroes.

“You got injured?” 

Hitoshi dropped the wad of bandages from shock, a chill sweeping down his spine. He hadn’t even heard Todoroki’s footsteps. “Put more weight into your steps,” Hitoshi said, though he wasn’t as annoyed as his frown might’ve said. He understood why Todoroki walked like that--after all, he learned how to do the same since childhood, too. “You’re going to give me gray hair.” 

A half-smile graced Todoroki’s face. Not that Hitoshi was looking, but . . . it was there. “Sorry,” Todoroki apologized, and then trained his gaze onto the first aid kit on the table. “Where?” 

Hitoshi blinked. “Where what?” 

“Your injury,” Todoroki repeated, tone oddly quiet as he stepped into Hitoshi’s space. “Where is it?” 

Hitoshi dropped the bandages again, flustered by the close proximity. “Uh--What?” His skin burned, but it wasn’t because of Todoroki’s quirks. Not for the last time, Hitoshi regretted the fact that he had decided to live with his crushes. “It’s. It’s fine. Just a gr-graze on my, uh. My side.” 

Todoroki narrowed his eyes, lips pressed into a line, eyebrows furrowed from worry. Hitoshi wanted to smooth the worry out of his expression, letting him know that it was a simple wound. That he would be fine. He understood the reaction, though, with the shit they’ve all gone through even as innocent little sixteen-year-olds that had signed up to be hero trainees and ended up in the middle of a war. 

Even the smallest of injuries could mean a death, if one weren’t careful. 

“Shouto,” Hitoshi started, “I’m f--.” 

“Did you get lost on the way to make popcorn-- oh.” Kaminari’s voice rippled through the kitchen. Hitoshi peered over Todoroki’s side to see Kaminari blinking wide eyes at the two of them, and then raised an eyebrow at the pink in Kaminari’s cheeks. Huh? “Havin’ a party without me?” Kaminari said after he shook his head, a teasing smile on his lips. 

Hitoshi tried not to stare. Why were his roommates-slash-crushes so pretty? They were awful for his poor heart. He would go into cardiac arrest at the early age of twenty-three if he weren’t careful, and it would be because he lived with two impossibly attractive men. 

“A party?” Todoroki blinked, worry melting into confusion. “I don’t know if I’d celebrate Hitoshi getting injured. . ..” 

“Injured?” Kaminari echoed, the smile dropping from his face. Before Hitoshi could reassure them he was fine, and it was just a scratch, Kaminari was at his side. Here would be where Hitoshi blue screened. “Where? Let me see? Do we need to take you to the ER--?”

“Maybe,” Todorki said as he eyed the bloodied gauze on the table. “That looks like a lot of blood you lost, Hitoshi--.”

“No ER,” Hitoshi interrupted, bemused at their protective worry. “And it looks like a lot, but I’m fine. It was just a graze--.”

“You were stabbed?” yelped Kaminari, and Hitoshi groaned. “With a knife?”

“No,” replied Hitoshi, rolling his eyes, “with a spoon.” 

Kaminari pouted, and Hitoshi, once again, didn’t stare. He didn’t. “There’s no need to be so sassy; I’m just a concerned friend, here!” 

“Your concern is appreciated,” Hitoshi said and softened his expression with a smile. Kaminari and Todoroki paused, though Hitoshi couldn’t pinpoint the emotions fluttering across their expressions. “It’s unnecessary. I’ll get it checked out in the morning, if that’ll make you less worried, though.”

“Please do,” Kaminari sighed. He poked Hitoshi’s nose, chuckling quietly at the disgruntled look it caused. “Shoucchan and I are, like, number one and two at the Worry Olympics.” 

Todoorki snorted at that, leaning against the table. “I think Midoriya’s number one, and we’re two and three.” 

Hitoshi tried not to laugh, considering the pain at his side. “Please don’t make me laugh,” said Hitoshi as he rose to his feet. “It’ll be a mess if I have to undo the stitches.” 

Three seconds of silence, and then--

“STITCHES?”

Ah, fuck, Hitoshi thought. I should’ve kept quiet. 

TRENDING

1. #dekunumberone
   1.7M people are tweeting about this.
2. #LGBTQPros
   1.1M people are tweeting about this.
3. #PRIDE
   968k people are tweeting about this.
4. #shoutowriter
   645k people are tweeting about this.

shit here we go again @chargebolt ⦁ 5h
pov ur in the er because ur roommate got STABBED AND THEN GAVE HIMSELF STITCHES IN THE KITCHEN LIKE IT WAS NBD
51.3k Likes 24k Retweets

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @chargebolt
ITS NOT A BIG DEAL?????
I GET STABBED ALMOST EVERY NIGHT LEAVE ME ALONE

shit here we go again @chargebolt ⦁ 5h
Replying to @shinsous
YOU WHAT???????
IM CALLING SENSEI

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
he’s actually calling him i cant believe this
[QRT: shit here we go again @chargebolt: YOU WHAT???? . . .]
59k Likes 37k Retweets

listen to earphone jack’s podcast!!! @presentmic ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @shinsous
YOU’RE IN THE HOSPITAL??????????????

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @presentmic
No.

maybe i am that author @shouto ⦁ 5h  
love how you’re calling sensei when sensei was the one who taught him these habits 
[QRT: shit here we go again @chargebolt: YOU WHAT???? . . .]
42k Likes 15k Retweets

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @shouto
IKR??? SENSEI IS WORSE THAN ME 

[cat.gif] @aizawa ⦁ 5h 
so was i supposed to find out my kid is in the hospital thru a twitter or :/ 
368 Likes 52 Retweets

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @aizawa
sensei dont act like you’re not allergic to the er 

[cat.gif] @aizawa ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @shinsous
I am but you’re not supposed to be :/ :/

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @aizawa
stop using that emoji 

[cat.gif] @aizawa ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @shinsous
:/ :/ :/

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @aizawa
home of phobic i cannot believe this

[cat.gif] @aizawa ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @shinsous
i am literally married to a man, and have been in love with him my entire life 

seeking: new roommates @shinsous ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @aizawa
HOME OF PHOBIC

Presentation Michael @PRESENTMIC ⦁ 5h 
you love me? loser 
[QRT: [cat.gif] @aizawa: i am literally married to a man, and . . .]
2.3M Retweets 4.9M Likes 

[cat.gif] @aizawa ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @PRESENTMIC
not anymore 

Presentation Michael @PRESENTMIC ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @aizawa
SHOUTA :pleading_eyes:
baby,,, come back,,,,

[cat.gif] @aizawa ⦁ 5h 
Replying to @PRESENTMIC
no

“I can’t believe you got stabbed without me,” said Hagakure, her entrance into the kitchen marked by a swish of skirts and clanking bracelets. She pointed at him and waved her arm; if he could see her face, she’d likely be wearing a teasing smile. “We could’ve had matching scars!” 

Hitoshi gave her a droll look over the dough he rolled out. “I could stab you right now if you’d like,” he offered with one of his unnerving smiles. “And I didn’t get stabbed; I got grazed. There’s a difference.”

“Same thing,” Hagakure refuted, her gloved hand waving in the air. “And you wouldn’t dare stab me in your precious kitchen, anyway. Too much blood, you know? By the way . . . shouldn’t you be, you know, resting?” 

“Don’t forget the health code violations,” said Kaminari as he walked by, carrying a container of dirty dishes to the sink. “And yes,” he added, side-eyeing Hitoshi in disapproval of his life choices. “Yes, he should.” 

Hitoshi grabbed one of the star-shaped cookie cutters and sent a sour glare in Kaminari’s direction. “I don’t need to rest, Denki,” he said to Kaminari’s admonishing look. “It was a graze.” 

“And you needed four stitches,” Kaminari added in an accusatory tone, pointing a dirty plate in his direction for emphasis. Hagakure brought her hands to her face, smothering a giggle. “If you don’t rest after you finish cutting out those cookies, Shoucchan and I are going to stage an intervention.” 

Hitoshi crinkled his nose. Todoroki and Kaminari’s interventions often left him bundled up in blankets and surrounded by cats, and while Hitoshi wouldn’t complain about that on a normal day, their interventions also meant he wasn’t allowed to do anything that resembled “work.” Meaning: he couldn’t play catch up on paperwork or do research for any cases he was on. He couldn’t even jot down ideas for upcoming desserts. 

As a budding workaholic, their interventions were a nightmare. 

“Actually,” said Todoroki, overhearing Kaminari as he stepped into the kitchen. “I think we should stage an intervention; you’ve been in here since 7 AM.” 

Kaminari’s outraged squawk of, “7?” was muffled by Hitoshi’s groan. He would bend over and thunk his head against the table, but that would risk him popping the stitches in his side. He would scream if he had to go back to the ER. No one would let him do anything, then. 

“I hate you,” Hitoshi grumbled as he set the cookie cutter down, shuffling toward the set of sinks not used for dirty dishes to wash some of the dough and flour off his hands. “The both of you.” 

He jumped, nearly banging his elbow against the edge of the sink, when fingers brushed against the back of his neck. Kaminari murmured a teasing, “Yeah, we’re awful for wanting you to take care of yourself,” as he untied Hitoshi’s apron, helping him out of it so he wouldn’t have to strain his injury.

Hitoshi swallowed at the warmth of Kaminari’s touch, sending him a quiet, grateful smile once his apron was off.  

Todoroki took over the cookies and pointed out, blunt as always, “You love us,” as he pressed the cutter into the dough. 

Yeah, Hitoshi thought to himself. I do. “Unfortunately,” Hitoshi teased, his smile softening any bite from his words. “Especially since you’re kicking me out of my own kitchen.” 

“We’re doing you a favor,” Kaminari said and wagged his finger at him, a mock-stern expression on his face, and then started to usher him out of the kitchen. “You don’t need to stress and worry about the cafe, okay? We’ve got you covered~!”

Hitoshi snorted. “Telling me not to stress and worry over things is like telling me not to breathe.” Kaminari rolled his eyes, snickering around a murmured “drama queen,” and ignored Hitoshi’s glare, pointing to his usual table where a plate of mini sandwiches and tea waited for him. “Alright, alright, worrywart; I’m going.” 

“Worrywart and proud,” joked Kaminari and watched Hitoshi make his way to the table, hands on his hips like a stereotypical mother watching her child leave for school. “You’re not allowed to leave that spot until an hour has passed!” 

Hitoshi’s “Yes, mother,” caused a flurry of giggling from a few regulars, well-accustomed to the daily shenanigans of Pawprints Cafe. Kaminari made a face and stuck out his tongue in response before a customer flagged his attention, and he snapped back into his ‘Customer Service’ expression. Hitoshi settled into his seat carefully, not wanting to cause panic if he happened to pull a stitch. 

He’d rather not traumatize his customers. 

He took a bite out of one of the sandwiches, blinking in surprise when he noticed it was one of his favorites. It wasn’t anything fancy, but he’d never grow tired of egg salad sandwiches, especially when they were paired with one of his favorite teas. Hagakure plopped down in the empty seat across from him when Todoroki kicked her out of the kitchen and swiped one of the sandwiches, snickering when he glared. 

“All jokes aside,” she started as she swallowed a good two-thirds of the sandwich. “How’re you really doing?” 

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his tea. Even after all the years he’d known her, watching Hagakure eat was . . . interesting. “I’m doing fine.”

Hagakure snorted and lowered her voice as Kaminari walked out of the kitchen doors, carrying a tray of freshly baked sweet rolls, “Now, you and I both know that’s a lie.” As if to punctuate her point, she stole another sandwich and jabbed it in his direction. 

Hitoshi made a face and partly hid it with the teacup. “Tooru,” he sighed out, “it’s really just four stitches. You know that’s, by far, not the worst injury I’ve had, even as a student—.”

“I’m not talking about your injury, Hitoshi,” said Hagakure quietly. Knowingly. Hitoshi took a sip of tea and, although he couldn’t see where her eyes were, exactly, he avoided her perceptive gaze. “I’m talking about . . . the situation™.” 

Despite himself, Hitoshi snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re making it sound like I’m planning a rendezvous or something like that.” 

Hagakure snickered “Well, you know what they say—be gay, do crime.” 

“We are Pro Heroes, ma’am,” Hitoshi pointed out, but when Hagakure only hummed, Hitoshi smiled and echoed, “But . . . yeah. Be gay, do crime.” 

Hagakure snorted. A minute passed before they both descended into laughter. Hitoshi needed to calm down a few seconds in, though, knowing he’d increase his risk of popping a stitch. Again: he’d like to not traumatize any customers, regardless of if they were accustomed to the sight of blood or not.

“Anyway . . . I don’t know,” Hitoshi said, voice low, as he set his teacup down. His gaze trailed over to where Kaminari stood, beaming as he chatted with a customer. Todoroki packaged someone’s order of cookies and brownies, slapping on one of their Pride stickers at their request. He wasn’t entirely sure what expression he made as he watched them, but it made Hagakure coo and rest her hand on her face. “I mean, I’m okay with how things are right now.”

“Are you?” Hagakure questioned, tone soft and knowing. Hitoshi didn’t mind it when Hagakure read him like an open book, but, in that moment, he despised it. “Because I think you’re just telling yourself you’re okay with it when you’re not.”

Hitoshi took another bite out of his sandwich and glared. “Stop being so empathic,” he said to her snickering. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but it’s creeping me out.”

“Should I text Fumi-kun instead?” Hagakure offered and waved her phone, a slight cackle in her voice as Hitoshi grimaced. Tokoyami was, somehow, inexplicably worse than Hagakure and Yamada combined. “You know he has opinions.”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, snorting. “Don’t forget about Dark Shadow.”

“Of course!” Hitoshi had the feeling Hagakure was smiling. “How could I dare?”

He gave her a pointed look a moment later. “Don’t you have patrol or something?”

“Nope!” Hagakure clasped her hands and leaned forward. “I’m all yours for today~.”

Hitoshi sniffed. “I’m jumping for joy,” Hitoshi said after he took another bite, polishing off the rest of his sandwich, and snickered when Hagakure threw a crumpled napkin at him in response. They delved into a light squabble, behaving less like friends and more like a pair of siblings.

“Hey, now!” Kaminari bypassed them, holding some new flyers to place on their corkboard. One of them displayed information on Musutafu Pride. “Be careful with my baby,” Kaminari continued with a teasing smile, and then gave Hagakure a mock-warning look. “He’s delicate~, you know?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes and reached out to pinch Kaminari’s side, knowing how ticklish the other was. Kaminari laughed and danced out of the way, winking at Hitoshi before he walked backwards to the corkboard. Hitoshi didn’t bother hiding his snort when Kaminari nearly tripped over a stool, turning around to hide his laugh with his teacup, though he didn’t bother to hide his soft expression.

Hagakure sighed, almost dreamily, and rested her head on her fist. “You poor, poor lovestruck fool,” she said, only half-teasing, and Hitoshi twitched.

Hitoshi very nearly popped a stitch, lunging for her as she laughed, skidding out of reach and toward the door. She waved and then posed with a peace sign as she opened the door, ever the dramatic bisexual. “See y’all at the parade this weekend!”  

“I’m banning you from our booth,” said Hitoshi, though they both knew it was a lie, and Hagakure blew him a kiss.

Hitoshi could only shake his head.

From the phone records of Shinsou Hitoshi.

Today at 8:15 A.M.

Contact(s): Yaoyorozu M., Jirou K.

YM: we’re here!!

JK: tihs is too early

SH: weak

JK: im going to blind u

SH: not if u want cookies

JK: fuc

YM: it’s not that early kyouka!

JK: ugh

JK: morning people

SH: u married her

JK: i know [smiling_face_with_hearts]

YM: [smiling_face][heart]

SH: gross

JK: ur just jealous ur too weak to confess like we did

SH: BLOCKED

JK: U CANT RUN FROM THE TRUTH

SH: WATCH ME

TRENDING
1.       #MUSUTAFUPRIDE
6.9M people are tweeting about this.
 
2.       #LGBTQPros
4.6M people are tweeting about this.
 
3.       #Cellophane
1.2M people are tweeting about this

#MUSUTAFU PRIDE 2X41 @kaeyas • 5h
idk about y’all but im gonna be fighting to get to pawprints booth at pride. get ready for some elbows
1.4k Likes 924 Retweets

 
let klee commit arson @babyklee • 5h
Replying to @kaeyas
Please keep your elbows to youself
 
#MUSUTAFU PRIDE 2X41 @kaeyas • 5h
Replying to @babyklee
No
  

cellophane PLEASE @ me @cello • 5h
speaking of elbows did anyone see what cellophane did this morning
15k Likes 2.6k Retweets

 
cellophane PLEASE @me @cello • 5h
Replying to @cello
because i did and im in love
 
cellophane PLEASE @me @cello • 5h
Replying to @cello
@cellophane please answer the phone sir
 

why is math a thing @plumstagram • 5h
im going to lose it
THESE ARE SO CUTE
[Attached: an image of two pride-themed (the lesbian and nonbinary flag colors) cookies in the shape of clouds with a rainbow attached.]
41.9k Likes 32k Likes

FIRST PRIDE KINDA NERVOUS @gummie • 5h
Replying to @plumstagram
THEY ARE
 
why is math a thing @plumstagram • 5h
Replying to @gummie
I LOVE PAWPRINTS SO MUCH
 
FIRST PRIDE KINDA NERVOUS @gummie • 5h
Replying to @plumstagram
i would die for the baker
 
See Us at Our Booth @PawPrintsCafe • 5h
Replying to @gummie
please don’t i want you to live
 
 

 
NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt • 5h
this just in musutafu is in love with pawprints baker
79k Likes 23k Retweets

im retiring no questions @shinsowo • 5h
Replying to @chargebolt
arent you supposed to be on patrol
 
NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt • 5h
Replying to @shinsowo
and?
 
im retiring no questions @shinsowo • 5h
Replying to @chargebolt
pay attention
 
NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt • 5h
Replying to @shinsowo
or what
 
im retiring no questions @shinsowo • 5h
Replying to @chargebolt
im going to throw out the peanut butter cookies
 
NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt • 5h
Replying to @shinsowo
NO IM SORRY ILL LOG OFF
 
 

snow cone man @shouto • 5h
weak @chargebolt
63.2k Likes 54.7k Retweets

NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt • 5h
Replying to @shouto
stfu shouto those cookies are MY LIFE
 
snow cone man @shouto • 5h
Replying to @chargebolt
WEAK
 
NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt • 5h
Replying to @shouto
LIKE U DON’T START BEGGING WHEN HITOSHI WONT GIVE YOU BLUEBERRY MUFFINS
 
 

gay fear.png @mimikyu • 5h
damn chargebolt u didn’t have to call out duality like that
[QRT: NOT THE COOKIES @chargebolt: LIKE U DON’T START BEGGING WHEN . . . ]
3.6k Likes 1.9k Likes

pikachuwu reblogged thelakes:

notshouto

hi hello pro heroes chargebolt/duality/siren are in love and no i wont take any constructive criticism for this bye

sirenfanclub

we support this

the council agrees

#give siren two lovers 2X41

chargeboltt

motion passes!!!!!!! they each haver two hands LETS GOOOOOO

sugah

what the fuck is happening here

notshouto

the pursuit of happiness.

6,397 notes source: notshouto # HELLO #HELP IF THIS ISNT DUALITY #IM GOING TO EAT MY SHOES

From the phone records of Todoroki Shouto:

1 of 2368 Works in Pro Hero Chargebolt/Pro Hero Duality/Pro Hero Siren

1 of 2106 Works in Pro Hero Chargebolt/Pro Hero Duality/Shinsou Hitoshi

1 of 1937 Works in Pro Hero Chargebolt/Pro Hero Siren

1 of 1562 Works in Pro Hero Duality/Pro Hero Siren

1 of 1054 Works in Pro Hero Chargebolt/Pro Hero Dua lity

1 of 625 Works in Pro Hero Ingenium (the Second)/Shinsou Hitoshi

“It’s time for your break!” Uraraka barged into their booth area, the glitter in her hair shining beneath the sunlight. She smiled, her dimples covered by face paint: the trans flag on her left cheek, and the bisexual flag on her right. “Go out and be wild! Have a drink and some food or go dance in the parade! Kiss someone!” She added with a wink, snickering.

“A mad banquet of darkness,” said Tokoyami as he handed someone three sugar cookies, two of them decorated in the lesbian flag colors, one of them decorated with a cute cat, and then a milkshake. Dark Shadow echoed the sentiment, somehow wearing a hat that said NONBINARY HOES. 

“Calm down, raven boy,” said Hitoshi, and Tokoyami squawked at the nickname. Dark Shadow snickered and repeated the nickname in a cackling croon. Uraraka rolled her eyes at the two of them, but her expression was too fond for it to be taken otherwise.

“Anyway—not my touch starved ass,” said Hitoshi, and Uraraka snorted ugly enough it sounded like she hacked phlegm. Tokoyami did a weird chittering noise in the back of his throat, but Hitoshi knew that meant he was laughing, only more bird-like. Uraraka made a face at him and shooed him out of his chair, firm in her aspirations to get him to leave Pawprints booth to enjoy the festivities. “Alright, alright. I’m going, Ms. Bossy.”

“That’s Mrs. Bossy to you,” Uraraka said and waved her hand in his face, her wedding ring sitting pretty on her finger, and the Gravity Heroine all but manhandled him out of his own booth. “Now, go!”

Hitoshi stuck his tongue out and grabbed one of his cookies on the way out. Two hours had passed since he and a few others set up Pawprints’ booth for Musutafu Pride. The event was in full swing, covering the street in cheer and a mass of bodies. Over the pulsing music, Hitoshi heard the muffled sounds of a speech taking place.

Pride was always a wild, chaotic time.

At least, the procession of floats had long passed. Although Hitoshi enjoyed the parade floats, he did not want to get swept into the chaos it caused. Given his booth had been relinquished to Uraraka for the time being, Hitoshi drifted between booths. He got his face painted by someone named Rin, a nonbinary flag pinned to their jean jacket (along with their pronouns), and then got one of those stick-on tattoos at another booth in the shape of a cat lying on a cute cluster of mushrooms.

Absolutely worth it.

He found Kaminari in a booth displaying acrylic paintings of various couples living their best lives, humming over one that displayed a polyamorous trio. “Toshi!” Kaminari exclaimed when Hitoshi stepped into the booth, beaming. Hitoshi softened at the sight Kaminari made, practically drowned in festive beads and body paint. “I see Occhan kicked you outta the booth, huh?”

“Yup,” Hitoshi said as he edged closer, peering at the canvas. He didn’t know much about painting, but he could tell beauty from the ugly. He had working eyes, after all. “She told me to go wild and kiss someone.” He paused and side-eyed Kaminari, a concerned furrow to his brow as the blond choked and struggled to regain his breath. “Uh. You good, Denki?”

“U-uh huh,” Kaminari croaked out and then cleared his throat repeatedly. Hitoshi reached over and patted him on the back. He could feel the scars Kaminari received whenever he overdid his quirk, the Lichtenburg markings etched onto soft skin, through the mesh shirt. “You, um.” Kaminari cleared his throat again, voice unexpectedly high-pitched. “K-kiss anyone?” 

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. “Just who do you think I’ll go around kissing?”

Kaminari muttered something under his breath—suspiciously, it sounded like me and Shoucchan , but given the headache-inducing volume of music in the air, Hitoshi knew he’d misheard—and then, louder, said, “I’m just asking a question~, baby!”

Hitoshi flushed bright at the nickname, as always. “R-right.” He heard a soft snort from the booth owner, and glared in her direction, unamused at the fond expression and teasing smile she sent in their direction. “Anyway. You thinking of getting this?”

Kaminari hummed, pensive as he glanced at the price tag. It was reasonable—and affordable, of course—and, after a moment, pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “Excuse me?” He said to the booth owner (painter?), jabbing a thumb at the painting. “We’d like to buy this!”

She clapped her hands and smiled. “Perfect! That’d be 2000 yen, please.” Kaminari fished out the money from his wallet and handed it over. “Want a bag, hon?”

“Yes, please!”

Kaminari hummed along to one of the songs as they left the booth, his painting in a paper bag decorated in various pride flags. As they walked, Kaminari entwined their fingers together without pause, causing Hitoshi to flush once again. He calmed himself, though, knowing it was only so they wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but a larger part of him couldn’t help but hope.

“Are those snow cones?” Kaminari gasped in delight, pointing somewhere to their left. Hitoshi turned to look and blinked.

“Wait.” He squinted at the figure standing by the ice, dressed in familiar clothing Hitoshi had absolutely seen that morning. “Is – is that Shouto?”

Kaminari paused, thought of snow cones stuttering to a halt, and squinted as well. “I think it is!” He marched through the thrum of the crowd, pulling Hitoshi along through their clasped hands. Hitoshi’s fingers burned at the touch. “Hey, Shoucchan!”

Todoroki looked up and blinked, half his concentration on creating more ice for the machine. A cluster of people were off to the side of the cart, contently eating their own snow cones. “Ah.” Todoroki smiled at them, and Hitoshi’s throat dried for a reason that wasn’t just the heat. “Want a snow cone?”

Hitoshi could only chuckle. So this was where Todoroki disappeared to a good forty minutes after the parade officially started. “Shouto . . . did you abandon our booth for this one?”

Considering Todoroki had little shame, he responded with a succinct, “Yes.” At their twin snorts, Todoroki looked slightly sheepish and added, “Their ice machine started to break, so I offered my quirk to help them.”

Kaminari tilted his head. “Isn’t that, technically, illegal?”

“Not as long as I have my license on me,” said Todoroki, a mischievous curve to the edges of his lips. It wasn’t like the man even attempted to hide his identity as Pro Hero Duality. His notorious dual-toned hair, though styled, wasn’t even hidden by a hat. At least, Denki had hid his hair, and signature lightning bolt, with a baseball cap.

Hitoshi eyed a few people snapping photos and shook his head, chuckling. “Could we get a snow cone, then?”

“Sure.” Todoroki reached for a cup and the ice scooper. “What flavor?”

Once they chose their flavors, paid, and stepped aside for other customers, the cart owner managed to fix their machine and shooed Todoroki away. “Go and have fun with your partners,” they said, a fond smile on their face at the way Todoroki nearly choked. Not that Hitoshi or Kaminari weren’t doing just that. She pressed a strawberry flavored snow cone in Todoroki’s hands, beaming. “Happy Pride!”

“Happy Pride,” Kaminari croaked. Pieces of his snow cone dripped onto his fingers, melting beneath the warm rays of the sun.

Hitoshi wouldn’t be able to explain Todoroki and Kaminari’s expression, even if someone asked, but what he saw there made him pause. Todoroki and Kaminari both had an odd flush over their features, a light pink scrawling over their noses. They shared a glance—a knowing glance, a silent conversation, that Hitoshi definitely didn’t miss—with soft, quiet smiles hidden behind their snow cones.

It hit Hitoshi, suddenly.

Like lightning.

Like ice.

Oh. Something cold sunk deep into his stomach—and it wasn’t the snow cone currently melting in his hand. I see what’s happening here. Hitoshi didn’t know how he’d been unable to see the signs—the flustered looks and behaviors, the way Kaminari stuttered, the way Todoroki always offered to help Kaminari study when he had an upcoming test, their quiet looks and touches they barely realized they did—but now that he realized what was happening with his roommates, well.

It was obvious.

Even someone Hagakure teased was “perpetually oblivious” could see them.

Hitoshi tucked the aching hurt he felt at his revelation and smiled at the two. He paid attention to his snow cone, almost a third of it gone now, and tried to swallow around the ball in his throat. Of course, they’re in love with each other.

(After all, Hitoshi would always be the—.)

“Let’s see what other booths and things Musutafu Pride is offering this year,” Hitoshi forcefully chirped out and looked away from the pining pair, oblivious to the concerned looks they sent him. He set forward on an unknown path, his goal to find something—anything, really—that would properly distract him from the hurt rising in the back of his throat. It tasted like bile. The grape flavor of his snow cone tasted like ash on his tongue. “Before Occhan drags us back to our booth!”

There was a pause—a terrible, haunting pause—and then: “Sounds like a plan,” Kaminari cheered, his cherry snow cone already finished and crumbled in his hands. He looped an arm through Hitoshi’s before he threw the snow cone wrapper toward a trash can, successfully dunking it inside.

“Home run,” said Todoroki.

Kaminari snorted—it was an ugly sound Jirou teased him for countlessly, but Hitoshi could only feel fondness at the sound of it—and said, a bright smile lighting his features, “Shoucchan, that’s a baseball term! What I did was more like dunking.”

Todoroki only blinked. “I don’t know enough about sports to argue,” Todoroki said in his typical blunt and ruthless manner. “But that sounds fake.”

Kaminari sputtered in mock offense, and Hitoshi couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of his lips, eyes closing at the force of it. His insides were cold, not from the snow cone, and his heart—it ached, bleeding through the cracks of his chest cavity. I’ll still support them, no matter what, he told himself. What kind of friend—no, what kind of person would he be if he didn’t?

They made teasing conversation as they walked, weaving through other people and booths expertly. Todoroki had stepped to Hitoshi’s other side, leaving him boxed in between the two. His arms burned at their body warmth. He basked in their attention, in their warmth, but couldn’t help the cloudy burn settling deep in his chest.

You can break apart later, Hitoshi scolded himself. Don’t ruin this day.

It was Pride, after all.

Hitoshi cleared his throat during a lull in conversation, Kaminari distracted by a pink crystal. “. . . Also,” Hitoshi spoke, a teasing smirk on his lips, when they stopped to look at someone’s crystal booth. “That wasn’t a dunk, Denki. You just did a shot and made the goal.”

Kaminari squawked.

It would be a good day. Not even his discovery would ruin it. 

notshouto reblogged salem:

salem

[A candid photo of Pro Heroes Chargebolt, Duality, and Siren, clear and sharp as the rest of the crowd blurs around them. They’re clustered around a cart selling snow cones for the summer day, Duality resting one hand on the ice machine to use his quirk. Chargebolt’s lips are stretched into a wide, beaming smile, and Siren has a soft, teasing smirk on his face. Duality looks at the two with fond affection, expression soft and loving. He doesn’t even see other customers waiting, his attention grasped by the two before him .]

duaboltren crumbs.

photo caption: pro heroes chargebolt, duality, and siren in civ clothes at musutafu pride.

102,590 notes source: salem # beautiful

notshouto reblogged uwuvity:

soriku

[IMAGE: An aesthetic photo of a box that holds three mini cakes—along with the box, the desserts are pride-themed. One the left, the first cake is a red-velvet cake decorated in various mini flags associated with the LGBTQ+ community and red hearts. On the left, the second cake is a vanilla cake with royal icing, decorated in the colors of the pansexual flag. The last cake is another chocolate cake with a raspberry filling, decorated in the colors of the trans flag, and fluffy white clouds. There’s a small, handwritten note attached to the inside of the box top, saying that a percentage of their patronage had been donated to a non-profit organization for LGBTQ+ youth in rural areas.]

#3000 why i love pawprints café: their pride themed desserts. just look at these beauties. also they’re delicious and i would die for their baker/co-owner, shinsou hitoshi

salmonella

please tell me this isn’t some marketing plow.

soriku

its not!! the café does go all out during pride since they owners are also lgbtq , they have most of these designs year-round

salmonella

bet

@chimken lets go tomorrow

dreameaterr

honestly same

i went into their café for their tea and i fell in love. especially with the cats

lgbtcuties

I LOVE THIS BAKERY/CAFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

4,421 notes source: soriku #pawprints  #pride  #desserts

notshouto reblogged dekiru:

dekiru

honestly im not surprised that duality worked at a snow cone stand for a good bit of pride. i hope he had a good time tho :/

12,589 notes source: dekiru #i did have fun thanks

From the phone records of Kaminari Denki:

You have been tagged in four posts.

[An image of Todoroki, Shinsou, and Kaminari, oblivious to the fact they were being photographed. They sit sprawled on the couch, Shinsou leaning against Todoroki while Kaminari’s sprawled over their laps. They’re in their own world; Shinsou was captured mid-laugh, expression bright with joy, his eyes closed, and, therefore, oblivious to the loving way both Todoroki and Kaminari stared at him, awed by his laughter and expression.]

uravily
205 Likes

look at these DORKS

#todoshinkamistrikesagain #friends #THEYREDORKSOFFICER

Click to read all 360 comments.

shinsowo: what the fucj do u mean todoshinkami strikes again

uravily: i said what i said

yamada: so cute!!!!!!!

1 Hour Ago

[A short five-minute video of Iida Tenya, surrounded by other friends and coworkers, Kaminari Denki and Todoroki Shouto evident in the crowd. The back of Shinsou Hitoshi’s head can be seen, disappearing behind the corner. Egged on by the crowd, Iida downs at least six shots in rapid succession without a chaser, which causes everyone to lose their mind.]

midorin
1,673 Likes

so this is what happens when i leave for five min

#whyismybestfriendlikethis  #lovehimtho

Click to read all 165 comments.

tenyas: <3

alienqueen: don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the sights midorin

midorin: no comment

1 Hour Ago

[A series of photos of the party at Kirishima Eijirou’s house. Each one depicted at least three friends, though not every photo had a memorable moment. Most of them just had the overall vibe of a fun time spent with friends one hadn’t seen in a long time.]

tsukuyomi
86 Likes

how chaotic

#madbanquetofdarkness

Click to read all 67 comments.

shouji: don’t you ever get tired of that catch phrase

tsukuyomi: never

covenofdarkness: tsukuyomi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

52 Minutes Ago

[A photo of the members of the old Class 1-A, Shinsou, and some of their ex-teachers, sitting on the floor or the couches, playing Cards Against Humanity. It’s Midoriya’s turn to read the cards, and they’ve caused him to begin laughing to the point of tears.]

ttooru
26 Likes

you have all my uwu’s

#lovemyfriends  #squad   #classareunion

Click to read all 324 comments.

phantom: i see class a is back on their bullshit

ttooru: i see u never left ur bullshit

y.kyouka: we should have more reunions

15 Minutes Ago

The adrenaline from the festival faded a few hours after it finished.

They went to an afterparty Kirishima hosted, and most of their friends were able to attend. It was like a U.A. reunion wrapped into a Pride party—Kirishima had somehow wrangled Aizawa into attending, though they all knew Yamada and Kayama both had a hand in that as well—and it was certainly interesting, especially when Ojiro and Hagakure brought alcohol, ever the enablers. Hitoshi knocked back a few drinks himself, and the party even turned into corny middle school-esque games fueled by good vibes and alcohol.

Hitoshi would never, ever forget the sight of Iida playing Cards Against Humanity, winning nearly every round by playing cards literally no one expected him to put down. Though Hitoshi knew he’d likely be haunted by the way Aizawa played, not to mention the utter disaster Never Have I Ever went.

There were some things Hitoshi did not want to know about his mentor/parental guardian, thank you very much.

(Even years after attending, U.A. graduates still went by that ‘Plus Ultra’ creed.)

The party, nonetheless, was enough of a distraction for Hitoshi. He tried to make sure no one was aware of the hurt in his veins, though with how Iida sometimes eyed him in concern, clearly wanting to question him over it had they not been in the middle of a party, he may not have been as successful as he'd thought. Kaminari and Todoroki didn’t seem to notice—or, well, if they did, they kept it to themselves.

Hitoshi wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Hitoshi showered when they returned to their apartment, sometime nearing two in the morning. He changed into comfortable sweats and one of Todoroki’s sweaters he’d swiped on laundry day, seeking that familiar comfort before he would have to accept that he’d never receive it again. He wasn’t entirely sure if his socks were his or Kaminari’s, either. He heard the muffled sound of a keyboard as he bypassed Todoroki’s room and didn’t bother hiding a smile, knowing the man likely worked on another piece of fanfiction instead of his actual manuscript in the comfort of his bedroom.

He made his way into the kitchen, one of the cats brushing against his ankles as he walked by. He made himself some hot chocolate and added some crushed peppermint and marshmallows. Nothing like the warm beverage  after a long, tiring day. He would have to head downstairs and clean up the kitchen at some point, knowing it likely resembled a hurricane, but he wanted to relax and unwind before he did so.

I should probably sleep, Hitoshi thought as he eyed the time on the stove. He knew his mind wouldn’t leave him alone if he did. Looks like I’m pulling an all-nighter, then.

Once his hot chocolate cooled enough, he padded over to the living room where something played softly on the TV and blinked at the sight. Kaminari’s head popped up from the pile of blankets on the couch, drool on the side of his face. Hitoshi softened and smiled, eyes crinkling with warmth. He settled beside Kaminari, even though he knew, deep down, that he really shouldn’t, that it’d hurt Todoroki if he saw, but—just for a moment, Hitoshi wanted to be selfish a bit longer.

He sipped his hot chocolate quietly, the warmth pooling into his stomach. Baby Marshmallow hopped onto the couch and rested on Hitoshi’s lap, purring softly when Hitoshi started to pet him. Kaminari continued to sleep, essentially dead to the world, and Hitoshi startled when a snore rippled through the air.

Baby Marshmallow didn’t appreciate the sound, either, meowing in discontent.

He drained his hot chocolate and set it aside. Quiet drifted in the air, only interrupted by Kaminari’s snoring and the twinkle of a collar bell. “I know either of you won’t hear this,” Hitoshi said softly, breaking the silence, choosing to confront this part of him when there’d be no chance of a rejection (because he was a coward—). Something creaked—the floorboards, but Hitoshi knew it was one of their cats. “Since you’re, you know, sleeping, and . . . and Shouto’s writing his stories in his room, but . . .” He paused and took a breath, grounding himself, and then he curled a hand behind his neck, fingers brushing through some strands of his hair. “I like you, Denki—and Shouto, too. Not in the platonic sense—well, I mean, yes, but—.” He stopped and exhaled noisily, then side-eyed Denki to make sure the other was still asleep. “Romantically,” Hitoshi admitted; something once tight in the middle of his chest uncoiled. “I like you both romantically . . . but I know . . . being with you both in that sense . . . it’s never going to happen, since you’re pining for the other.”

A near haunting silence drifted. Hitoshi barely heard Kaminari’s snoring nor the tinkling bell of one of their cats.

“Which—it’s okay. It’s great,” Hitoshi said and swallowed the ball in his throat. “I . . . I knew my feelings would never get returned, anyway,” He continued in a whisper, a shuddering breath wracking his spine. “But . . . I wish you both the best, and I’ll be cheering you on,” Hitoshi finished with a trembling smile only Baby Marshmallow would see and fell quiet.

After a moment of grasping his bearings (and holding back some tears), he stood. To no one, save himself and, perhaps, the ghosts of his unrequited feelings, Hitoshi announced, “I’d . . . better go clean the kitchen.”

He grabbed his mug and set it in the sink to clean later and then headed downstairs to the café. The kitchen was, simply put, a mess. Before Musutafu Pride, a few coworkers and friends arrived in the early morning to help them prepare. Materials and ingredients for bite-sized cookies and milkshakes were scattered everywhere, along with food substances from accidental spills. Hitoshi grimaced at the sight, but it was a typical part of owning a bakery.

Despite the late hour, Hitoshi slapped on his cleaning gloves and got to work. He managed to clean a good third of his kitchen before he took a break, slumping against one of the counters in exhaustion. He probably should’ve cleaned before he took a shower, but logical thinking had far surpassed his mind since the festival. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he would face Todoroki or Kaminari in the morning—but, then again, he had always been a master at hiding his emotions, swallowing them down until he could face them in the dark of his room where no one would be able to see. 

Hitoshi’s phone buzzed with a text message. He slipped off one of his gloves and reached for his phone, unlocking it with ease. He opened his messaging app to find Todoroki had sent a text to their roommate group chat.

Today at 4:15 P.M.

Contact(s): Todoroki S., Kaminari D. 

TS: archiveofourown.org/works/00000000

KD: what is this

TS: read it

SH: why

TS: please

SH: ok

KD: ok

Perplexed, Hitoshi clicked on the link. It opened to a fanfiction titled all the things i never said, and—Hitoshi’s breath caught in his throat. He almost dropped his phone in the mop bucket. Right in the relationships section was . . . Pro Hero Chargebolt/Pro Hero Duality/Pro Hero Siren .

No Archive Warnings Apply

Genre: G

Relationships: Pro Hero Chargebolt/Pro Hero Duality/Pro Hero Siren

Characters: Pro Hero Chargebolt, Pro Hero Duality, Pro Hero Siren

Tags: Confessions, Requited Unrequited Feelings, Love, Polyamory, Late Night Confessions, i hope im right if not i will pack up my bags and live in a dumpster

Words: 4,268 Kudos: 0 Bookmarks: 0 Hits: 3

all the things i never said

notshouto

Chapter 1: late night confessions

Duality had always been a little cowardly. There were things he wanted, words he thought needed to be said, but always found himself faltering, pausing, right before, and the moments passed, drifting and never found again.

“I love you,” he said.

His mirror—or, rather, the two photos of Siren and Chargebolt he’d taped to it—didn’t reply . . . 

Hitoshi leaned against the counter for support once he finished the story. His fingers trembled around his phone, the object threatening to slip from his grasp. His thoughts raced as he tried to wrap his head around what he’d read. They were a scrambling mess inside of his mind as he thought, a dawning hope in the middle of his chest, he . . . he likes me.

He likes me.

He moved on autopilot, setting his phone down on the counter. A part of him wasn’t entirely sure how he felt, considering he’d been under the impression Todoroki had only seen him as a friend. He had nursed a festering ache, the hollowed remains of where his heart rested, for the better half of the day, at his assumption that the two people he was in love with would never love him.

Shouto returns my feelings.

(It was almost funny, really, how hindsight worked.)

Kaminari beat him to the room by five steps, already in the apartment while Hitoshi scrambled from downstairs. He all but tripped over his feet as he dashed upstairs.

“You love me?” Kaminari crowed when they trampled into Todoroki’s room, flushed and grinning. “You love us!”

Todoroki looked up from his laptop—as if he hadn’t sent that story, hadn’t made Hitoshi’s head spin for a few minutes, hadn’t reconstructed the entire way he’d viewed the world—and said, “I do.” A quiet smile danced on Todoroki’s lips as he closed his laptop and set it aside. “I’ve been in love with the two of you for a while now.” Hitoshi watched as Todoroki swallowed, and then, a shadow casting over his features, averted his gaze. “I . . . I would understand if – well if neither of you returned my feelings—.”

“Don’t sell yourself so short, Shoucchan,” Kaminari interrupted, and the warmth in his tone eased the tension in the room. Hitoshi didn’t hide his smile, then. Trust Kaminari to soothe any ruffled feathers, so to speak, just by being himself. “I mean, really, have you looked in the mirror?”

Todoroki blinked. “I have . . .?”

Kaminari snorted and walked toward Todoroki, leaning close until their foreheads touched. “How could I not love you, Shoucchan?” Kaminari said quietly, and it was such an intimate moment, Hitoshi wondered, briefly, hauntingly, if he should be there. “Even though you write . . . questionable fanfiction about yourself and our friends.”

“It’s not questionable,” Todoroki defended and almost pouted. Hitoshi wanted to melt at the sight of it. “It’s my creative process. It’s art.”

Hitoshi chuckled behind his hand, leaning against the doorway. “Keep telling yourself that, Shouto,” Hitoshi teased, mirth tugging his lips into a smirk. When they looked at him, he softened further and added, “Your feelings aren’t unrequited with me, either. I’ve . . .” He paused, swallowing. No one ever talked about how confessing your love could feel so exhilarating yet exhausting at the same time. It was a maelstrom of emotions locked tight in his lungs. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, too.”

Todoroki’s eyes were wide—glassy, even. It seemed their resident Hot-and-Cold writer hadn’t even considered his feelings would be returned. Not that Hitoshi could judge. Then, in the softest voice Hitoshi had ever heard, Todoroki said, “Oh.”

Hitoshi could relate.

His eyes met Kaminari’s. He couldn’t explain the emotions dwelling in those yellow eyes. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, if he were honest. Are you a hero or not? Hitoshi breathed and curled a hand behind his neck, seeking that comfort. “I . . . I have feelings for you as well, Denki,” Hitoshi admitted softly, raised chin and all as he faced the inevitable. “But . . . don’t feel obligated if you don’t share those same feelings for me, okay?”

Hitoshi looked down at his feet now that he’d said his piece. He didn’t want to see Kaminari’s expression and find rejection there. Bad enough he had to see that softness aimed at Todoroki—he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d feel if he looked into Kaminari’s eyes and saw pity there.

Footsteps nearly muted by the carpet reached him, but Hitoshi didn’t dare look up. A hero he may be, but even the bravest of heroes faltered when confronted with their emotions. With the possibility of someone they loved not loving them back.

“Oh, baby.” A hand reached out and gently cupped the side of his face, a thumb stroking the line of his cheekbone. He met Kaminari’s gaze—and nearly swallowed, his breath caught in his throat, at the love he found there. Rejection didn’t exist in Kaminari’s soft yellow gaze, only adoration and affection. “I don’t believe there’s a universe where I don’t fall in love with you.”

Half a sob burned in the back of Hitoshi’s throat. He would’ve collapsed from the relief alone had he not been leaning on the doorway. He swallowed most of it down with a wet laugh. “You’re such a – a dork, Denki.”

Kaminari snickered, breath hot as it ghosted across his face. “But I’m your dork.” Kaminari leaned back slightly, turning to where Todoroki stood, watching them with the fondest expression. Now that Hitoshi knew what to look for, what laid bare in Todoroki’s heterochromatic eyes, he didn’t know how he’d missed the signs. “ Both of your dorks!” 

“Yeah.” Todoroki smiled, and Hitoshi could feel his breath catch again. It wasn’t fair, really, how beautiful the man was. His face burned, nonetheless, at the expression Todoroki sent his way, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach at the love he found there. “You are.” 

From the phone records of Shinsou Hitoshi.

You have been tagged in one post by shouto:

[A photo of Shinsou Hitoshi and Kaminari Denki, curled up together on the couch. They’re cuddled close beneath a knitted blanket, one of their cats, Triple Threat, perched between them on the back of the couch. Shinsou’s eyes are slightly rimmed red, as if he’d cried previously, and Kaminari had a soft and fond expression on his face, captured in the process of kissing Shinsou’s temple. On the coffee table rested three mugs of what looked like hot chocolate.]

shouto
129,873 Likes

them <3

#love #duaboltren #todokamishin #polyamory #yesweareinlove #yeswearetogether

Click to read all 62,457 comments.

KATSUKI: OH MY GO D ITS ABOUT FUCKING TIME

ttooru: FINALYL

shinsowo: shouto i love you but WHY did you use ship tags

shouto: i know my audience

denkis: smh where is your beautiful faces shouto :/

shouto: i wanted to show off your and @shinsowo ’s beautiful faces first

shinsowo: ADLKFHGADFKJLAHFDG

denkis: smooth….

uravily: AHH IM COMING OVER 2MORORROW FOR DEETS

shinsowo: no youre not

uravily: KNOCK KNOCK BITCH

hantaa: CONGRATS

y.kyouka: damn now its time for the iida-and-midoriya show

tenyas: its time for the WHAT

midorin: AKLHGLKJDFHKJGF

r.ikido: i cant believe u killed midoriya :pensive:

aizawa: Congrats. I’m happy for you three.

denkis: AIZAWA SENSEIIIIIIIIIII

shouto: Thank you, Sensei.

shinsowo: thanks sensei :smiling_face:

PRESENTMIC: AHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU THREE!!!!!!!

2 Days Ago