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Tonight is the deepest chasm of darkest night, and the world is aglow with laughter and light. Bells cling to boots, jingling merrily with every step, and the deep baritone of warrior voices in song shake snow from trembling boughs above their heads. Thick pelts of silver and tawny fur flicker and catch the candles’ warmth, weighing down the backs of villagers and children alike as they trawl through calf-high snow and towering forest. 

The sun will not come for hours yet, and all the animals are curled in the depths of earth and tree for months still. But here, in the dense clutch of the woods, walking in joyful procession, is warmth. Family. 

Ahead of the pack, King Bakugou Katsuki leads the midnight parade with a strong rope over his shoulder, a scythe of a smile as he breathes hard white gusts into the bitter night and sings with the full force of his lungs. Behind him he drags the weight of a massive tree, a log thicker than a man, stripped of limbs and digging a trench into the snow and cold ground. 

And beside him, Deku holds another rope, his slight Omega body still strong, still willing to put in the work despite his place at the right hand of the strongest Alpha in their kingdom. Because in their world, in their culture of blood, sweat, and tears—in their world of dog eat dog, it isn’t beauty or delicacy or the most fertile mate, it is the work one puts into their country that makes them a leader. And Deku has always torn himself at the seams to meet the ever-expanding needs of his most precious land.

Their efforts show. They glow, they light the world up like wildfire. Katsuki and Deku’s voices carry in harmony above the joyful songs of their people, just as they carry the welfare of their people upon their backs. 

Tonight, however.

Tonight, despite leading this pack, they are more a piece of the pack than any other day. The villagers do not drag the yule log through the harsh landscape of their winter world, but their King and Esteemed Mate do. The honor of the weight is theirs, and the log symbolizes the dark and the muck and the mire of the year, ready to be burned away into the sparks and ash that carry to the all-seeing stars.

A clearing opens to the dead center of the woods, a perfect circle surrounded by boulders dragged in by centuries-dead ancestors. Births used to occur here, life has been lit and snuffed here, joy and sorrow, tales told, songs sung, heroes lauded and losses lamented. The center pyre is high, awaiting the final log that will burn through the night, hailing the coming of the dawn. The beginning of the end of winter.

Many wear masks of wolves, snouts shaped in clay with the lips pulled back to reveal white pearlescent teeth of old shells and white stones sharpened to points. Others wear crowns of evergreen and fur, holly winterberries bright and red in the firelight. To some, the visage they cast may be foreboding or frightening, but to them—

To them, this is home. Their people, their loves, their lives. And tonight, on the longest night, they burn away the struggles and sadness of the year, and they sing for the new sun. 

Deku looks over his shoulder and beams at his children, their children, the twins sat on the log like the saddle of a horse, their third and eldest wandering behind with his wolf mask hiked up into his wild tangle of sweat-damp forest curls, red eyes shining like the very holly berries his little sisters wear in lighting shocks of white-blonde hair. Kazuo is but seven and already strong, already handsome and inherently masculine in the firm line of mouth, straight nose, cliffside cheeks barely hidden by baby fat. 

One day, he will be a wolf, Deku thinks with a swell of pride and a sharp sliver of sadness for the baby that will one day cease to be a baby. As the crowd disperses in rising song and begins to heave the log atop the pyre, Deku approaches his son with a warm smile and takes that sweet face in his scarred, calloused palms, places a kiss upon his damp brow.

“You look cross,” Deku says warmly. “Hungry?”

“Very,” Kazuo replies with a scrunched nose. He’s poor at hiding his emotions, and neither of his parents have done well to teach him otherwise. “This always takes forever.”

“So it does,” Deku says with a laugh, slinging an arm over his only son’s shoulders to lead him into the fray of laughter and conversation. Their clan lives with intensity. Fierce love, voracious hope, profound joy, severe sorrow. Tonight is about rejoicing, about shedding the dirty skin and fur of the year and starting new, clean, and prosperous. “The food is coming, I promise. Sato is overseeing your favorite sweets. I’m sure he will make you mountains.”

Kazuo’s tilted, feline eyes light up at that and he grins, full of teeth and missing one canine that has yet to grow into an adult fang.

“Yes! Can we go now? I’m cold and bored.”

“Who’s bored?” Katsuki drawls as he strolls over with Akane and Kaiya under each arm, the two year olds screaming with glee and kicking their legs without any intention of wanting to be free. “If you’re bored I’ll give you shit to do. Then—”

“Alright, alright, I’m not bored,” Kazuo says with a scowl in a mirror of Katsuki’s. “Jeez.”

Smiling benevolently, Izuku drops to a crouch before his son and playfully tugs the mask over his face, chuckling when Kazuo offers a hassled growl.

“Why don’t you find your Uncle Shouto? If anyone snuck food in before the feast, it’s him.”

Kazuo doesn’t need to be told twice. He thinks with his stomach above all else, and soon he is off and pushing through the crowd. He double takes at the two boys with shocks of pink hair roughhousing in the stamped down dirt, way too close to the blazing pyre, and pauses with a half-hearted attempt to lightly kick them apart with one hulking boot. When that doesn’t work, he jumps into the fray of Kirishima kids with a battle scream and soon it escalates to more and more children in one massive dogpile.

Well, Kazuo is their child. It’s to be expected.

Like the endless night of winter solstice itself, the event stretches nearly eternal. The hopsy beer and thick, almost sticky black balsam liquor is poured and passed. A great venison roast is presented and people tear into it with fingers and without plates, licking at the salty fat that dribbles down the side of their hand, and Kazuo, Akane, Kaiya and all the children descend upon the lacquered wood platters of sweets like ravenous beasts. Intoxicated with good food, drink, and delight, they spin and dance and sing around the dwindling pyre until feet and calves ache and the stars in the stark black sky above start to swirl in their vision.

Katsuki takes Deku by the hand with a devastating smile, flinging him into a dance that involves laying their battle swords and axes on the ground to step around them in complex steps and skimming, touching fingertips. The firelight drapes Deku’s king in gold, illuminates those viciously handsome features and the feral light in his eyes when he gazes upon his mate. Katsuki’s woodsmoke and spicy sweat scent suffuse Deku in soaring desire and delight, the muscular arm that bands around his waist to pull him in tight punching the air right from his lungs. Their eyes catch, the both of them smiling hard and breathing harder, white puffs pluming between them—

And then Katsuki is taking Deku’s hand in his and leading him around the fire in great, joyous twirls that send every thought in Deku’s head flying into the nothing. Fears and doubts, the struggles of the past year, they all heave into the heavens like the yule log burns their worries away.

They barely speak all night, but are rarely parted. They barely need speak, when after ten years, only a touch and a look are enough. Only this love and this life are enough.

“Papa!” Kaiya wails, her round cheeks pink from the cold and her bleary eyes overtired from a bedtime that never seems to come. She reaches stubby arms up to him and is immediately swept into Deku’s warm hold. “Kaiya want night-night, Kaiya want Daddy.”

Frowning, Deku glances across the low, nearly burnt-out pyre, then huffs a laugh when he notices Akane passed out in the Alpha’s arms. Katsuki’s head is dipped in difference to Kazuo, who speaks rapid fire with wide eyes and moving hands, his enthusiasm rippling the air around him. From this angle, their identical profiles are a sharp mirror of each other, down to the curved shell of their ears. It stops Deku’s heart nearly every time. 

“No.” Kaiya takes Deku’s face in two tiny chubby hands and physically directs his attention to her pouty lip and welling tears. “No no no. ‘S Papa’s night-night time now.”

While Akane is undoubtedly the fearless spitfire of the twins, she tends to linger in Deku’s effusive, natural warmth, while Kaiya’s sweet marshmallow nature seemed to melt their king from the moment she opened her oddly hazel eyes. To see Akane cuddled up to Daddy will send Kaiya into hysterics of jealousy on a good day. In the dead of night with sunrise still hours away and too many cookies in her system, the incoming implosion is bound for disaster.

“KAIYA WANT DADDY!” Kaiya screeches, going rigid as a plank in Deku’s arms, before hurling away, limp as the dead with an accompanying wail, nearly toppling out of Deku’s hold. “DADDYYY!”

“Kacchan!” Deku yells over the din of cheer and fiddle and drum. He’s half-laughing, half-grunting with effort to keep the eel of a child in his arms as he stumbles around the fire toward his mate.

Katsuki perks up on instinct, his broad shoulders straightening beneath the wealth of white fur he wears, attention quick to land on Deku’s approach. He’s already joining in the exasperated laughter, eyes rolling as he outstretches his free arm for the mutinous twin. 

The five of them remain as such for quite some time. Deku on one side and Kazuo the other, both with curly heads pillowed upon the lush pelt of Katsuki’s cloak, half-nodding off to the golden bubble of safety and warmth radiating from family and friends and fire. The unconscious twins have dropped down to Katsuki’s lap, pressed to his chest by the embrace of both arms.

And so it begins to snow.

Big, flaky puffs glisten and glide, floating and fanciful from the tall, stark trees. The crowd quiets and gasps, soft and wondrous, a sprinkle of laughter shining in the cold, crisp air. Deku and Katsuki peer up in tandem, then to each other, Katsuki’s fireside eyes warming Deku from the inside out. After so long, the pull of their bond is instinctive, a living breathing animal between them as Katsuki dips his chin and Deku raises curved lips to meet in the middle. 

Kissing Katsuki is like coming home to a roaring hearth. Deku sighs into it, shifting to palm the scarred line of Katsuki’s jaw and keep him close.

“Gross,” Kazuo grunts, dropping to his feet and immediately wandering away.

Deku hums with amusement against Katsuki’s laugh and they pull apart, Katsuki propping his cheek atop Deku’s head as they watch their son make a beeline for Shindo Yuuko. Dark of hair and shrewd eyes, she stands taller than most of the children in the pack, certainly a head taller than Kazuo despite only a year difference in age. Deku has been keeping an eye on them since they were children. Katsuki will rip his own hair out to bald if the two of them ever imprint upon each other.

“She’ll eat him alive one day,” Katsuki says, as if reading Deku’s mind.

“Have faith,” Deku murmurs, ignoring the way his own shoulders vibrate with muted laughter. “He’s not so soft as all that.”

“Maybe,” Katsuki says, idly hiking Kaiya higher so her head can rest upon his shoulder. She snuffles at the furred crux of Katsuki’s collar. “He might look like me, but he’s more you than anything.”

“He’s more himself than anything,” Deku corrects. He watches Kazuo visibly startle when Yuuko snatches the wolf mask from his head and grins like her father, placing it over her own face and jolting toward Kazuo with fingers playfully slashing at him like claws. Kazuo’s pale, freckled cheeks go up in flame, but his expression is indignant as he outright smacks the mask off her face and cackles when Yuuko puffs her cheeks in fury. “He’s only soft until he’s pushed.”

“So, you.”

“Hush,” Deku shoots back, but he’s laughing and snuggling himself closer to his big, warm Alpha. The snow continues to fall like flower petals, delicate and graceful on the wind, settling upon the knit woolen hats of the girls. Akane’s short little snub nose is pink and Deku leans in, huffing slow, hot breaths onto her face, then gently presses his cheek to hers. “Perhaps we should walk the children back to the castle before dawn. Get them bundled and in bed. Mother will watch over them.”

“Kazuo can stay,” Katsuki says, his voice dropping a gritty octave with his own exhaustion. The day has been long and the night longer. Even King Katsuki is not immune. On top of it, he’ll never let on that the beer makes him more sleepy than most. He’s horrible with his alcohol. “He’s old enough.”

“Alright.” Heaving a sigh of effort, Izuku gets to his feet and offers out his mittened hands. “Give me one.”

Akane is passed between them like a sack of potatoes, her mouth hanging open until Deku tucks her face against his chest. Fresh snow crunches beneath their boots as they head out of the circle. The cool blue dark of the forest envelops them instantly, the sounds of merriment fading like a dream at their backs as they lazily meander toward the castle. 

As they make the clearing from the forest, they pass by Shinsou without a hat, his hair intricately braided away from his face and his cheeks rosy with drink and cold. He’s staring up at the sky, hands in his pockets, tall frame tilted toward the heavens.

“What do the stars say?” Katsuki says, utterly serious. A winter solstice sky shares her secrets of the future for those who speak her language.

Shinsou doesn’t spare them a glance and merely huffs a sigh through his nose, white breath surging forth. 

“Babies,” is all he says. “Girls, I think. And a short, merciful winter. So, summer babies, then. Summer girls.”

“Whose?” Katsuki asks, sharing a curious look with Deku.

“Who knows?” Shinsou murmurs. “Everyone’s having babies these days.”

“Except you,” Katsuki says, goading and grinning.

Shinsou makes a face. 

“I’d rather be the fun uncle, if it’s all the same to you. You can continue being the boring dad.”

“Boring? I—”

“Kacchan,” Deku says, shaking his head and laughing as he bumps at his Alpha’s hip. “You’ll wake them. Come in now.”

“This isn’t over,” Katsuki grumbles, already wandering away.

“Good niiight,” Shinsou sing-songs, a smile in his distant voice.

There are still bells on Deku’s boots, and they jingle as they make their way indoors and up the steps to the babies’ room. The sudden switch from cold night to warmed, well-lit castle makes Deku sweat, and he peels out of his heavy outer-clothes after they settle the twins. 

“Gods, I’m tired,” Deku slurs, suddenly feeling every step in which they’d dragged that log through the forest, every spin and swirl of their dancing, every beer and shot of black balsam liquor. His head is swimming and he can only longingly look at the plush, thick nest of blankets and pillows mocking them from the four poster bed. “Maybe just a nap.”

“Or—” Suddenly, Katsuki has Deku’s back pressed to one of the intricately carved pine pillars of the bed, the heady musk of his scent rises to dizzy Deku’s senses and makes him whine, plaintive and hopeful. Katsuki’s mouth brushes Deku’s ear, the whisper of sharp teeth grazing the cartilage that sends shivers down Deku’s spine. “Or we could make some summer babies.”

Deku’s heart leaps straight to his throat, eyes wide, breath tightly held as he searches Katsuki’s grinning expression for earnesty. 

“Are you—is that—”

“Deku,” Katsuki murmurs, his face gone stern and soft in one; the face he makes when he’s simply lost in his mate but serious with every single word. His hand drifts into focus, brushes the curls from Deku’s eyes as he drifts in, nuzzles his nose to Deku’s. “You’re everything. They’re everything. Of course I want it all.”

Every taught nerve in Deku releases at once in a great exhale, his smile wobbly and wide as he reaches up and slings arms around Katsuki’s neck. 

“Come, then,” Deku whispers warmly. “Let’s celebrate the solstice as we’re meant.”

Outside, old land dons its coat of new snow. People sing and laugh, candles are lit to worship the future sun, bells cheer with gladness, and the winter world waits for summer children.