#Beautiful Block Scarf

[ivorivet]

Fellowship Cloak Weaving Draft

Hi all! I've been kind of quiet on this blog, but I have something really exciting to share today: after six years, I FINALLY figured out the weaving draft for the Fellowship cloaks from Lord of the Rings.

This is a problem I've been trying to figure out since shortly after I made my Legolas cosplay in 2018. The cloaks that the nine members of the Fellowship receive in Lothlórien look like a nondescript gray fabric from far away, but zoom in and you'll see a very complex pattern of horizontal and vertical bars of dark gray and white.

(First image from Alleycatscratch, second is a photo of the scarf of the same fabric I bought from Stansborough where I was attempting to trace the pattern repeat with orange thread)

This is going to be a long post, so I'm just going to lead with the completed draft:

Imagine me Will Smith wife posing at this for the last 24 hours.

It's got the correct size of pattern repeat! It's got the five individual ripples! It's got that dumb little pattern break in the middle that breaks up the center of the leaf motif! I am OVER THE MOON about figuring this out, especially starting out with very little knowledge about weaving drafts in general. More ramblings about this type of draft and my thought process below:

This particular pattern is known as "shadow weave," a subset of color-and-weave where the pattern is created from the interplay of different warp and weft colors plus the weaving draft itself. To get an idea of how that works, let's start by looking at plain weave in one color:

The solid purple bar at the top indicates the color of the warp threads, and the solid purple bar at the right indicates the color of the weft threads. So far we've got our basic under-over-under-over pattern in a single, solid color (purple). But what if we add an additional color (green) to the warp, and alternate those colors? Then we'd get a speckled fabric like this:

The visual effect looks pretty much identical regardless of if you start with green or purple. However, if you also alternate purple and green in the weft, it produces a very different effect depending on if you start with purple or green (note the differences in the bar on the right):

So cool, now we can make either vertical or horizontal stripes! If you double up on the colored threads in some areas, you can even flip between the two and start dividing the fabric into "blocks," like so:

Note that with all these changes, the only thing we've been doing is changing the order of the colors in the warp and weft. The actual weave structure itself is still just regular ol' plain weave. The pattern that we've created in the pictures above is called "log cabin," which you can read about here. But similar effects can be created by skipping shafts/picks in the weaving draft as well. So how do we get from log cabin into the more complicated and general category of shadow weave?

It's weird to describe how to convert a given pattern into shadow weave. There are multiple very good books with chapters on shadow weave as well as books entirely dedicated to it. Despite my best efforts, all these explanations still got so technical so fast it feels like, to me at least, asking a 6 year old to recite an entire Shakespeare play verbatim immediately after confirming that they can, in fact, sing the alphabet song. So I'm going to give my best shot at explaining it, and if it doesn't make sense, just blame it on me and check out some of the linked books above if you're really curious.

Think of shadow weave as a beauty filter for a black and white drawing. If you create a pattern out of black and white blocks/pixels/whatever, the shadow weave "filter" can be applied to it to create a similar pattern that preserves the shapes in the original, but makes them out of vertical/horizontal lines instead of solid color blocks. So in some of these books you'll find mention of converting a twill or an overshot pattern into shadow weave - that's what this is referencing. The original pattern (usually designated with light yarn) gets a secondary shadow pattern (in dark yarn) inserted into in between every other thread (also called an "end" when referencing warp yarns).

I got stuck at this point for literal years. I could find examples of weaving drafts using shadow weave, but couldn't figure out how to generate ones of my own. I imported some of the drafts I found in books into weaving software and poked around to see if I could push the patterns in the direction I wanted by changing individual elements. My experiments in changing individual warp ends and weft picks always ended up looking like stretched or compressed versions of the original pattern (when I was being careful), or incomprehensible garbage (when I was being daring). I even bought a sample of the fabric from Stansborough in the form of a scarf, thinking I could brute force it by using a magnifying glass to figure out the interlacements. I was able to figure out how large the pattern repeat was (approximately 160 x 80 ends), but otherwise I got nothing but eye strain. I ended up tabling the project and coming back to it every couple years, banging my head against it until I gave up.

Until one day last week when I was flipping through the Strickler book and saw this page:

And I was like

HOLD UP

IT'S HER

...or at least a close cousin of her. BUT IT WAS A START.

So the first step was to identify what about this pattern needed to change in order to make this look like the Fellowship cloak. Overall, the main differences were:

Pattern repeat on Strickler 304 was too small - it was 42 x 42 ends and I needed it to be somewhere in the ballpark of 80 x 80 before altering the repeat.

The Fellowship pattern has a weird vertical dividing line that runs down the middle of the leaf motif, effectively doubling the width of the repeat by creating two similar looking but different leaves. This was the change I was least concerned about, as flipping between vertical and horizontal lines is pretty a straightforward process as shown above with the log cabin draft.

Strickler 304 also has a different number of waves (peaks and valleys, or whatever you want to call them) compared to the Fellowship pattern. There are 3 waves in Strickler and 5 in Fellowship. Figuring out how to add these extra waves was the biggest obstacle for me to address.

And finally, a couple of things I didn't need to care about for the weaving draft: 1) the Fellowship pattern is elongated in the warp direction, but this has more to do with a little extra spacing between weft picks as compared to the warp threads. When weaving this you'd just need to make sure you don't beat it very hard and you'll get that tall rectangle shape instead of a square repeat. 2) Both patterns have mirrored symmetry around a diagonal line drawn through the center, meaning that for treadling I could "tromp as writ" or basically just mirror the threading diagram to get the treadling instructions. For reasons I can't figure out, the Strickler pattern isn't exactly tromp as writ but looks close enough to it that the effect is still there. But I don't really care enough to figure out why - the important thing is that it gives us a threading diagram to start with!

So to start with, here's what Strickler 304 looks like in my weaving software:

(By the way, this is Fiberworks PCW Bronze. The trial version is free, and the only difference between that and the paid version is that the save/print options are disabled. I'm not sure they know about screenshots, bless their hearts.)

This is a design for 8 shafts and 8 treadles, thus the 8x8 square in the upper right corner. And you can see in the threading diagram (upper horizontal bar) and treadling diagram (right bar) that the curvature of the waves takes a similar shape to the curves of the final pattern. We just have to figure out why. And since I had already tried changing individual warp ends and treadling patterns without much success, I needed to approach in a different way.

What ended up helping me see the forest for the trees was de-shadowifying the pattern. It's relatively easy to get the black-and-white version of the pattern from the threading draft - you just need to delete the shadow, which means removing every other warp end. This is what deleting all the dark ends from the warp and light ends from the weft looks like:

We can also see with a little more detail how the threading diagram is similar to the curve in the pattern. The pattern is 21 pixels tall, but it's been chopped up to repeat over 8 shafts, like so:

OKAY COOL COOL COOL. EVERYTHING'S COMIN' UP MILHOUSE IVORIVET. From this green squiggly line we know two things:

The final number of warp ends in the shadow weave pattern is double whatever the height of the squiggle is. In the case of the Strickler pattern, we're going from 21 to 42. Since we know that we need our final height for the Fellowship pattern needs to be 80, the squiggle for that pattern needs to be around 40 pixels tall.

We needed to stitch three repeats of the Strickler threading diagram together in order to see the full squiggle. How many waves does the Strickler pattern have? Three. How many waves does the Fellowship pattern need? Five. How many shafts do we have to work on? Eight. What is 5 x 8? 40!!!

So how about we make a NEW squiggle, only 40 pixels high instead of 21? (We're gonna drop the pixels in blue, since threading diagrams won't work if you put a single end through two shafts.)

Next, we're going to chop up that squiggle and use it to create a new threading diagram in Fiberworks. I'm also using "tromp as writ" here to create the treadling pattern.

LOOK AT THAT. IT'S GOT MORE WAVES!! FIVE OF THEM!

And then we add back in the shadow by creating a space for a new end between each existing end:

And then add in the shadow. I'm using 4 as my number for the shadow offset since we're using 8 shafts. So shaft 1 shadows to shaft 5, shaft 2 shadows to shaft 6, etc.

And we're going to apply tromp as writ again to get:

AYYYYYY WE'RE GETTING CLOSE! I'm fairly certain that the reason why the Strickler treadling wasn't exactly tromp as writ had something to do with centering the pattern repeat a little more than this, but I don't really care about that so I'm going to leave this treadling the way that it is.

From here out, we need at add that weird vertical dividing line that chops up the center of the leaves. So we double the pattern repeat along the horizontal axis, and offset a 40 pixel section in the middle of the threading diagram by 1 pixel. I've also colored in the differences between the dark and light ends to help differentiate the original and shadowed curves a little bit more. (I also tried offsetting the colors of the warp ends by 1 as well like what we did in the log cabin example, but I ended up liking the way that this looked more.)

THERE SHE IS!!! MY PRECIOUS!!

From here on out, there is still a ton of work I need to do if I actually want to weave this cloak from scratch. I did buy roving in quantities that could be used to spin both the dark and light yarn (dark gray Gotland for the dark yarn, and dove gray merino + white alpaca for the light yarn), but there's still the matter of, like, handspinning a cloak's quantity of extremely fine yarn. I did start spinning the Gotland several years ago as fine as I could possibly manage, and got through maybe 20 ounces of it. However, I'm a much better spinner now and I'm not sure if the my skeins from several years ago would be suitable for weaving, or if it would be worth replicating what I did back then vs. just starting over with a new standard. There's also the possibility of just... buying weaving yarn if I want to skip that step, which would definitely save me a significant amount of time.

Anyway, thanks for reading this far and I hope it helped break down why this was so exciting for me!

[writerpeach]

The Naughty List

IVE Jang Wonyoung x An Yujin x m!reader

8500 words

Part 7 of IVED Vanilla Latte

The cafeteria is oddly barren at lunchtime. Christmas lights are everywhere, and all the clichés apply—decorated trees, stockings hung along the wall, tinsel wrapped around the columns. Holiday music plays over the speakers, but it's easy enough to tune out when you have the company of your roommates.

Wonyoung finishes up her pastry, taking one more sip of coffee as she wipes the corners of her lips with a napkin. Nearly satisfied, she pops open a compact mirror to check her face, and a faint touch-up of lip gloss finishes it off, lips plump and pink once she closes the little case and drops it in her purse. 

"All set."

Yujin laughs in amusement, wondering how one person can spend so much effort on a quick touch-up, as if she'll simply melt if her appearance is nothing less than immaculate. It's not like Yujin doesn't have her own fastidious routine, especially with her makeup, but nobody takes it to such extreme measures like the tall beauty with pouty lips right across the table.

Wonyoung runs fingers through her hair while she stands up from the table to stretch, grabbing her purse and tightening the scarf wrapped around her slender neck. You follow their lead as they bundle up and toss their empty containers into the trash, Yujin still clutching the remainder of her drink, while Wonyoung drops an absurd amount of cash into the tip jar before the three of you make your exit. 

Winter never seems to let up—snow covers the ground everywhere, leaving a crunch under your boot with every step. Not that it’s an issue when you have these two keeping you plenty warm. 

Yujin is on your left, Wonyoung on your right, both with their arms hooked around yours, clinging possessively as they pull you closer, leaving your attention constantly torn between the two. But you couldn’t be happier, sandwiched in the middle—Yujin, with her thigh-high boots and that ridiculously short skirt, as if pants are a foreign concept; and Wonyoung, in her leather skirt and leggings combo that makes her look absolutely delectable.

It draws plenty of stares, of course, because why wouldn't it as you walk through campus, arm in arm, attracting attention in whatever direction the three of you pass. But it’s no concern really. 

"So, daddy—" Wonyoung cuts the silence and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in closer while also holding on a bit tighter. "Finals are done and Christmas is right around the corner. Any idea what you're gonna ask Santa for this year?"

It's cute hearing the innocence in her voice, and watching her eyes light up with curiosity. "Think I have everything I need right here. You two spoil me enough as it is."

Yujin giggles softly, fluttering her long lashes as she kisses your cheek. "Don’t think that’s possible. Still, I think we'll have the perfect gift waiting for you under the tree, daddy."

That could mean anything—which excites as much as it frightens you, but Yujin's devious smile gives little to no indication. Not even Wonyoung's telling expression gives much of an idea. But you're not left in your thoughts long, distracted when Yujin stops in her tracks, gathering up some snow with a bright look on her face and packing it into a little ball.

"W-wait," Wonyoung pauses momentarily, her whole body coming to an immediate halt, the realization sinking in when Yujin reveals the tiny snowball between her delicate fingertips. "Yujin, don't you dare—"

The throw isn't quite clean, only half connected as the snowball grazes Wonyoung's shoulder and falls short, yet Yujin's smile spreads, excited by the way it explodes. That's all the confirmation she needs to reach down and do it again.

"H-hey, no—d-don't even think—" Wonyoung's fumbling around while frantically trying to decide on how to react and whether to run, blocking herself behind you as a human shield. 

"Hiding behind daddy? That's not very fair, princess."

"Neither is throwing fucking snowballs! I haven't gotten snow on me in years, I don't like being cold!"

"What, scared it'll ruin your five thousand dollar shoes?" A second snowball hits before Wonyoung can respond, the white snow spreading all over her little leather skirt. 

You don't exactly have a say in any of this when Wonyoung takes you hostage, burying her face in your back while clinging to your waist, as if that offers protection against Yujin's clear intentions. Before you can get out any word of protest, Yujin lands a perfectly clean shot against the side of your face, laughing uncontrollably.

Wonyoung doesn't even give you a chance to defend yourself, climbing straight up on your back like her life depends on it, arms around your neck to cling tight. 

"Daddy, get her!" 

No chance to hesitate when you’re forced to carry Wonyoung’s weight without warning. And now you're really at a disadvantage with this girl on your back, hardly able to defend yourself when it comes to Yujin's next barrage of snowballs, taking each one directly in the face. Somehow, you manage to scoop up enough snow to throw a few yourself, one of them finally landing a hit when Yujin doubles back to take cover, giggling mischievously in triumph. 

That's when you lower Wonyoung down onto the ground, needing an even playing field so you can get your payback. She's not exactly happy as anticipated, pouting the second her feet touch the snowy ground. That pout doesn’t linger, however, left alone, defenseless against Yujin's assault. Rather quickly, it devolves to scrambling to the nearest cover behind one of the benches when she realizes there's no more safety net.

And then it's a warzone—snowballs gathered up and launched at Yujin without yield, while you try desperately to block the return fire. 

Yujin's much more athletic and quicker on her feet, dodging almost effortlessly, her long legs allowing her to find cover so easily. You've taken more than your share of snowballs, most to the face, meanwhile, Wonyoung isn't even trying, just cowering behind the bench and waiting for this storm to pass.

You abandon your current position for a better vantage point, and then there's this same thought clicking at the same moment when you fire a direct shot toward Yujin's tight ass as she passes between some trees. It explodes beautifully and catches her so off guard, and then you're locking eyes, in unison, with the same devilish intentions in mind, an unspoken alliance forming. And there's no better target in sight—

Yujin darts towards the direction of Wonyoung, and you gather up the biggest snowball you can manage before putting the plan into motion—an ambush, taking each side to corner her before she has time to realize the trap. It's perfect execution, both snowballs finding their mark in succession, one hitting Wonyoung square in the face from behind, the other from the front by Yujin.

Wonyoung looks betrayed as she just stands there with a look of disbelief, cheeks flushed red from the cold while you block off any retreat, ensuring there’s nowhere to run to avoid what's coming. 

And the only answer to this is, well, nothing, surprisingly—just Wonyoung standing in place, snowball after snowball raining down from each direction to that beautiful visage, enduring it while frozen like a statue, silent and unsure how to react to this sudden double-team.

So much for that touch-up earlier. 

"Daddy, you jerk! You can't—" Wonyoung cries out, with this cute little stomp as she shields her face with her arms. You can't stop laughing and neither can Yujin as the assault continues, with an endless supply of ammo at the ready.

But you know that look, the silent fury hidden behind her pouting facade, the way her gaze stays fixated. Wonyoung has never been one to handle defeat too well. Never been one to take anything lying down. Left with no other option but to launch herself at you, she tackles you into the soft snow as you fall flat, completely unprepared to have her entire weight collapse on you.

That fury ignites, Wonyoung grabbing handfuls of snow, not even bothering to form a ball as she throws it, pelting your face. She doesn't let up one bit, almost cackling while she keeps you pinned down with an unreal amount of strength for such a small frame, finding satisfaction from each handful thrown.

"I can't believe you both turned on me," Wonyoung says with a frown, gathering up a fresh handful of snow that you block in self-defense.

"Come on, princess," Yujin says in the distance, joining in now that the danger's passed, collapsing down next to the both of you in the snow. "There are no rules when it comes to snowball fights. And our bratty little princess is such an easy target."

Wonyoung can’t help but sulk as Yujin helps brush some of the snow from her hair—and just like that, it becomes an unfair team-up, the two of them pinning you down, completely outnumbered. But there's no more powder being tossed, only kisses landing on your cheek while you three share this respite in the snow.

"Princess looks good covered in snow, don't you think, daddy?"

Almost forgetting her previous frustration, Wonyoung sighs, kissing your nose as that pout remains. "I look good covered in a lot of things, especially white."

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, and Yujin can only smile when Wonyoung leans over to lock lips, the pair falling back into an eager kiss that's all tongue and wandering hands.

"We should get daddy somewhere warm before he catches a cold," Yujin suggests between these wet kisses and cute giggles. Given how much snow you’re surrounded by, you can't disagree, although you're sure if either one decided to have their way with you right then and there, you'd hardly fight it. "No better time to use the hot tub, don't you think, princess?" 

Wonyoung pauses, stopping midway with her lips inches from Yujin. "Hot tub and daddy's cock, that sounds perfect." 

You’re more than ready to follow anywhere as they hoist you out of the snow, eager to get out of the cold and get warmed up. 

❄ ❄

Wonyoung is the first to drop into the warm, bubbling water, exchanging snow-covered clothes for a tiny red string bikini that leaves so little to the imagination. The hot tub feels heavenly in the cold when you lower in after, watching the way she leans back against the tub while pulling her hair free from a messy bun. Those dark locks cascade freely over her shoulders, head tilted back in relaxation as the water bubbles around her. 

"Mm, this feels amazing," Wonyoung murmurs, eyes fluttering as she submerges a bit deeper. You can’t disagree one bit, how this covered little patio gives a great view of campus while shielding from the cold that continues to fall, surrounded by hedges and a tall wooden fence—a secluded oasis of perfect privacy.

That's Yujin's cue—the sliding glass door opens when she arrives, not empty-handed either as she holds up a bottle of wine and three glasses. Her bikini is equally stunning, a bold black piece that is far from modest. Her curvy hips fill the fabric so well that it barely conceals anything—not her incredible thighs, nor that wonderfully full ass of hers.

"Brought a little Christmas present," Yujin says, smiling as she makes her way across the wooden deck, giving you plenty of time to admire her sinful body before she slips into the bubbling water to take the spot beside Wonyoung. 

It's all so surreal, spending a snowy, cold Christmas Eve in this hot tub, sitting back in the water, right across from heaven itself. Yujin's staring with that gleam in her eye, smiling so suggestively while pouring a rather generous amount of wine, holding out each glass for you to take. 

With a generous sip, Wonyoung's glossy lips stain the rim a pretty pink, nearly draining the contents before setting it down. Yujin does the same, although she's much more reserved, swirling the rich, red liquid around the glass before indulging in a taste of her own.

You’re not even going to attempt not to stare, eyeing both girls shamelessly—how Wonyoung's bikini top looks like a nuisance, the thin strings almost begging to be ripped right off, Yujin equally so. 

Wine downed, all it takes is one little look between Yujin and Wonyoung before a silent plan forms into motion. Yujin takes another sip of wine and gazes longingly, bringing the sole of her foot against your bulge, teasing you as she curls her toes, stroking up and down again until you throb.

"Daddy's a little excited to see our new bikinis," Yujin murmurs with her glass poised beneath her lips, taking another drink, never breaking eye contact. "Isn't that right?"

"I think we're more excited to take them off for him," Wonyoung adds, taking the glass from Yujin to gulp the rest of the wine as she joins in the teasing, and together, the two of them stroke the outline of your swelling cock through your swimming trunks. You groan out almost involuntarily, already feeling that need building as your shaft continues to strain against the fabric, growing harder with every second they toy with you.

"So hard for us already," Yujin giggles, keeping the attention on your cock with her toes rubbing at the tip and slowly downward again, drinking more wine while she strokes you.

Their toes tease and toy with you, as if your trunks aren't a barrier, managing to work you up—not even removing the offending item of clothing, just having their fun beneath the surface of the hot water while you try your hardest not to moan too desperately. 

"Let us take care of you, daddy…let us milk every last drop out,” Wonyoung says, almost pleading. 

Wonyoung licks her glossy lips, her toes squeezing tight, the head of your cock nestled between her big toe and next, massaging you nice and slow. With you throbbing with need, it's only a moment later the pair waste no time in yanking your swim trunks down, throwing the soaked article out of the hot tub and leaving you completely exposed.

You couldn't hope for anything better when Wonyoung scoots in closer and together with Yujin you're treated to this double-team, as they stroke in unison—fingers interlocked and tight, squeezing and twisting around your cock together in an all too familiar, synchronized fashion. 

"F-fuck—god, that feels so fucking good," you gasp, tilting your head back in pleasure, every motion those delicate fingers make along your cock so calculated, every stroke and squeeze just right. You can't hold back your pleasure—your body's all too responsive to their teasing, helpless against the pair working in tandem, up and down your swollen length, making you throb so intensely with every little movement their slender fingers make. 

All you can really do is give yourself a little distraction, untying the strings to Wonyoung's bikini free while she leans over and dips her tongue into your mouth, doing the same for Yujin next.

Tossing aside each discarded article of wet clothing, the bikinis get lost beneath the churning, bubbly water as your hands wander all along their perfect bodies, feeling their smooth, soft skin, gliding across each tight tummy, up to those perfect tits that you squeeze at, their nipples so stiff when you roll them beneath your thumbs. 

"Like that, daddy? When we stroke your cock like this?" Yujin purrs, like the groans you let out aren't enough of an answer, your hands playing with their tits just as greedily while the pressure builds between your legs. “We weren't kidding, we really are going to milk you. So just relax.” 

Not like you could do anything but that if you tried. 

Yujin leans closer in and smiles, dragging her tongue along your neck, planting slow kisses. And maybe they're taking their sweet time to show off their skill—how Yujin uses her thumb to smear precum along the tip of your cockhead, how Wonyoung plays with your balls, cupping them in her hands and squeezing gently to feel their fullness. 

"All we want for Christmas is to make you feel good, daddy. To make you cum as much as you want," Yujin says so seductively, kissing down your jawline until she nuzzles into your neck and teases over one of your nipples. "Let us spoil you even more than usual."

So hard to concentrate with all this bliss, and yet it's nearly impossible to not give in, knowing these two girls won't stop until there isn't anything left in your balls. They switch it up at a moment’s notice, Wonyoung working your shaft with her masterful fingers, Yujin preoccupied teasing your sensitive balls, drawing patterns with the tips of her painted fingernails. You’re just doing as instructed, sitting back and relaxing while they touch and tease you, finding new ways to drag every hint of pleasure out of your body. 

"This is my favorite part," Wonyoung muses. Her gaze is fixated entirely on your face as her hand works magic around the base of your cock, letting Yujin focus on your swollen cockhead, stroking fervently, so focused on bringing you as much ecstasy as possible, pumping without relent. 

"Princess," Yujin shifts around in the water, giving your balls a heavy squeeze that rips a moan from your throat. "Every part's your favorite."

"Yeah, and? Not my fault this cock is perfect in every way. Maybe I like seeing the way daddy's face is whenever he's about to explode..."

Every word from these girls' mouths only winds you up more and more, when their lips stay latched on your neck, where their teeth tease and kiss the sensitive skin. How Wonyoung gets such a tight grip with every twist of her wrist along your throbbing cock and never lets go, how they start alternating between themselves who takes over stroking and fondling your balls, working together, sometimes both hands on your shaft, sometimes playing with your balls.

You're every bit helpless, drowning in all the lust, cock throbbing with anticipation, ready to erupt all over those eager fingers, desperate to let go, to pump out everything you have stored in your heavy balls. And these two only seem to speed up when you're clearly ready to burst—Wonyoung working you faster than ever, hand pumping furiously while Yujin gets a nice handful of your balls, just fondling away with a few tugs here and there.

"Think daddy's almost there," Yujin says so matter-of-factly with this smugness in her voice and you know she’s not wrong—

You're reaching the edge and the feeling grows stronger by the second, not even thinking straight anymore. Every breath comes out shaky and frantic as you feel every little sensation, arms spread out along the ledge of the tub, biting your bottom lip to muffle a moan that doesn't quite work. 

"Daddy's gonna make such a huge mess. A big, thick load for us, right?” 

Those fingers from Wonyoung only move faster, hitting every single sweet spot on your shaft, and that's enough when Yujin cups your balls tight, working wonders and there's that edge right there, the sensation overflowing, your balls tightening, muscles tensed as you can no longer hold anything back—

"Shit, I-I'm gonna fucking—"

"Cum for us, daddy," they both whisper sweetly in unison, urging your orgasm out with their pleading stares. Then you’re groaning impossibly loud with their lips on either side of your neck, and finally blow your load when Yujin gives a squeeze to your balls just the right way—streams of hot white shooting under the water's surface from your throbbing cock as the relief hits all too fast. 

They make good on their promise to milk your release all out, Wonyoung squeezing your cockhead tight, thumb right there at the underside to make every shot feel better than the last, sticky and plentiful and all theirs. Meanwhile, Yujin's hot breath lingers in your ear the whole time, nibbling on your earlobe with this firm squeeze on your balls that seems to draw the rest out.

It's that moment of pure, utter euphoria that lasts longer than you're used to—thrusting your hips out of reflex, pumping out thick, creamy spurts all over their fingers, the duo draining your heavy balls and you think it might never end. 

"There's so fucking much," Wonyoung murmurs with glee, like she’s surprised when she’s mutually responsible for this release. Her fingers just keep milking your cock alongside Yujin, intent on dragging out every last drop your body can possibly offer. 

Even afterward, long after you've shot all the cum they can drain from you, there’s still a hand on your cock, one on your balls, both insistent on working every bit out they can as if you haven't let out enough. 

Between their soft hands on your sensitive cock and the bubbling jets of the hot tub, it’s more intoxicating than that expensive wine Yujin brought—they haven't gotten tired of jerking you off just yet, the water obscuring much of their activity below like they’re seeing whose name you'll groan more.

"Daddy always sounds so sexy when we make him cum," Yujin says all sultry in tone, dragging a single finger from your base, up and over that spot near the underside of your tip and keeping it there—rolling the pad of her fingertip in circles over the area where your cock seems most sensitive. “Hearing you let go... that's my favorite thing."

Before you can even catch a breath, Yujin is tilting your face towards hers, hungry lips crashing against yours, lost in this moment together, tasting the wine on her breath. 

And almost on cue, they let go of your cock and rise out of the water in unison, hopping onto the wooden deck with their dripping wet bodies. Your gaze travels all over, unable to make up your mind where to look—the way droplets trickle down Yujin's wet chest and over those pretty nipples so stiff as the frigid air caresses her skin. Or the way Wonyoung looks with that mess of wet hair cascading down over her shoulders, water clinging to her bare back and those supple ass cheeks her bikini bottom couldn't even hope to contain. 

Topless and soaking wet, the image is seared into your mind, and they don't bother putting anything on after drying off, not even bothered how the cold stings their naked flesh, and god, are you already aching to go again. 

When you step out and head back inside, there's a lingering pause—Yujin's the last one in before sliding the glass door shut, wrapping her arms around your chest from behind as she locks you into place. "We have one more present for you, daddy—right, princess?”

Her breath feels so hot, leaning against your body as her naked breasts press against your back. Wonyoung takes a sip of wine straight from the bottle before she puts it down on the kitchen counter. "Something like that." 

You can't ignore the mischievous smile they share as they head towards the stairwell in nothing but skimpy bikini bottoms. That look can't mean anything good—Wonyoung stays leaning on the banister, letting your eyes wander along her endless legs as she places a pretty pedicured foot on the second step.

The pose is intentional, allowing you to glimpse how tight and shapely that ass of hers is, how delicious her long legs look with that perfect figure accentuated in a red bikini, only making your cock pulse with need.

"How about you head upstairs in ten minutes, daddy?" Yujin suggests, untying a loose knot with her black bikini, the fabric loosening until it slips off her wide, curvy hips, falling on the floor as she starts descending the stairs. Now naked from head to toe, she takes her time up the stairs, enjoying your shameless ogling. 

No doubt she’s fully aware of how your eyes are glued to her every move, drawn to those sinful curves—from her bouncy, thick thighs to that irresistibly tempting ass that follows suit. Every inch of Yujin is a masterpiece put on display, all to make your cock throb harder with anticipation, bouncing her hair freely behind her shoulders, hips swaying all too hypnotically. 

Wonyoung mirrors those movements, throwing her bikini bottoms at you to catch, and the sight of each of them standing there naked, climbing up the steps right in front of you is too much temptation to take. 

Ten minutes is going to seem like an eternity. 

❄ ❄

The time goes by painfully slow. All that waiting, each minute taking longer than the last when you dip into the wine for something to occupy the time with. Who knows what these two are up to—

Hardly able to contain your eagerness any longer, you climb the steps after the promised ten minutes. Yujin's waiting right there in the doorway, standing completely naked and confident as ever with a devious look in her eye when you arrive.

"Took you long enough," she teases, grabbing your hand and leading the way inside the dark bedroom as she flicks the light switch on, illuminating the room with a soft glow. "Hope you're ready for your Christmas gift, daddy."

What Yujin steps aside to reveal is more than just a gift—Wonyoung all naked, tied up in your bed, and looking oh so vulnerable with her long arms above her head, slender wrists secured tight with red ribbons. The same treatment can be said for the rest of her delectable body, pale tits covered up in these festive ribbons all around that lead down to her flat stomach, so perfectly intricate and meticulously wrapped around her whole upper body. And the pattern doesn't end there, going even further, wrapping around those luscious legs of hers, bound together from her thighs down to her ankles, leaving her completely helpless and unable to move an inch.

Of all the things you expected this gift to be, this definitely wasn't on your radar—how all that red contrasts so perfectly against that milky white skin, a large bow right between her thighs covering just enough to tease. 

"Our little Christmas present. This pretty little slut all tied up just for daddy to unwrap," Yujin says, doing an exceptional job presenting Wonyoung. “Ready for daddy's big cock."

Your present has such a desperate look in her eyes, pretending to struggle with her restraints, the feel of ribbons on her naked body adding so much extra sensation. All for show, no doubt, because if there's anything Wonyoung loves more than being a brat, it's this—getting tied up and manhandled to your liking. 

"All yours, daddy." Yujin's voice has taken on this all too familiar sultry tone, smooth and breathy, practically an invitation on its own. "Have her any way you like. Use her like the good little fucktoy she is.” 

"Don't think I could ask for a better present.” 

That’s all you can manage to get out before Yujin dives into your lips with a rough kiss, tongue instantly invading your mouth, and Wonyoung can only stare helplessly from the bed while you devour one another. There's that greedy side Yujin lets out, nails digging into your skull as the kiss turns into something rougher, desperate, sloppy with saliva spilling down her lips and she shoves her tongue in further, getting a firm grip on your cock in the process. 

"P-please, daddy, need your cock—need it to ruin me so fucking bad. Want you to pound me like a fucking whore, daddy..."

Yujin gives a few full strokes to your cock that’s more than a little hard now, keeping you locked into the kiss while you moan into her mouth. "She's a little needy. Shoved a vibe in her while I was tying her up she's so fucking worked up for you. Made sure that pretty cunt got all nice and soaking wet.” 

"So thoughtful of you,” you say, stroking the back of Yujin's head as you gaze intently at Wonyoung on the bed, whimpering so pathetically as those bound thighs squeeze together, desperate for any friction.

"But before you do anything, daddy—let me warm your cock up just a little first. Our hungry little slut can wait a bit longer."

You don't even need to look over to know there's a pout forming when Yujin drops to her knees. Then there’s that warm fucking mouth sinking down, lips wrapped around your cock, sucking with such fervor from the very start. You can't help but groan deeply and Wonyoung has no choice but to watch from her helpless position.

All that warm saliva soaks every inch, like she can't get enough of your cock. Those soft lips glide along your length while Yujin bobs her head up and down—every motion filled with need, staring straight at you until she hits the base. 

"Shit, fucking hell, Yujin—" you mutter in amazement, because no matter how many times she gives these sloppy wet blowjobs, you can never quite get over how incredible that mouth is. How talented, how experienced she is at using every single tool in her arsenal, hands gripping tightly on your thighs to get every single inch down her throat, absolutely covered in messy warm saliva. 

Yujin doesn't even gag, slurping on your shaft and hollowing her cheeks, swallowing every last inch down until her lips press tight to your base, holding there as long as possible—

All that follows is a loud, lewd pop as Yujin withdraws entirely, lips now latched onto your heavy balls, giving them such a good slurp while stroking your cock that’s absolutely soaked with spit along the whole length. She makes such exaggerated slurps with those full lips around your sensitive sack, lips locked tight, humming deeply while keeping you in that intense gaze. The way she works your balls over with her tongue, rolling them so slowly, trapping them into her hot mouth has you raring to go. 

"Mm, your balls are so full and delicious, daddy,” Yujin breathes out, with a line of drool spilling from those gorgeous lips. "I could suck on them all fucking day, but you've got a needy little brat to breed."

One look over at your gift, so tempting, tied up, and tantalizing, and you have to agree, especially when the only thing you want is to ruin that warm, wet little cunt. There's no denying the effort Yujin's put into such sloppy sucking, getting your cock slick and primed to pump out another full load by the time you're done with your gift.

You don’t need to do anything else but climb the bed, unsure where to even start when Wonyoung is all wrapped up, every inch of that pale skin so flawless, all but begging for your touch. "Look at you, princess. You look so pretty like this, don't you think? All tied up and just for me."

"Daddy, please—" is all Wonyoung manages to get out, her whining interrupted as you place a finger on her pouting lips.

"Don't you worry, princess. I'm gonna use my Christmas gift just the way you deserve," you say, and loosen the red bow right between Wonyoung's thighs, not a bit surprised to find her dripping. She’s exactly how Yujin promised, looking so deliciously inviting and wet, the perfect place to bury your cock inside. "Your pretty cunt is gonna look so good pumped full of cum once I’m done with you.” 

"Yes daddy, make me your little cum dump. Use your gift and breed me until I'm leaking. I need you so bad..."

You decide to leave the ribbon around her tits for now, all that decorative red highlighting their shape, nipples no doubt just aching to be sucked and teased. The more your gaze lingers, the hungrier you become, taking a moment to enjoy the sight before you leave a trail of kisses all the way down.

And finally, when you've made your way to those bound-up thighs, you get a good grip on the ribbon with your teeth and tug. In one easy motion, you free that ribbon from those delicious legs and they spread apart on instinct—such a pretty sight to see that slick pussy just aching for your cock, perfectly wet and inviting. 

"So fucking beautiful," you say, and poor Wonyoung can't even touch herself like this. She’s so willingly at your mercy and can’t even show off her wetness to you like she usually does—but you'll get a good view from where you are, feel exactly how soaking wet she is when you slide right in. 

Reaching underneath, you get a good firm grip on her hips to pull her helpless body closer so you can tease her, sliding the head of your cock between those glistening lower lips. She’s all desperate when she groans, which only makes it more satisfying to watch her wriggle in these binds as you deny her the initial pleasure.

Before she can even open her mouth to complain, you're lifting her long, slender legs up in the air, resting them right on your shoulders, and getting a good look at where your cock is about to sink right in. Yujin appears right beside you then, kneeling on the bed, so very interested in witnessing you defiling this brat. 

"Hope you don't mind me watching you fill our present, daddy," Yujin says sweetly, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before shifting attention onto Wonyoung. 

"Not at all. Little slut loves an audience watching her get ruined. Isn't that right, princess?"

Wonyoung only manages to elicit a long whimper, face flushed a pretty shade of pink when your cock teases at her drenched entrance, a clear sign that yes, she does. Those legs rest nicely on your shoulders as you caress them, toes curling already from how close you are to being inside—and just like that, you give one pop of your hips, sinking deep, plunging the entirety of your length inside.

"Oh fuck, daddy!" she cries out as you fill her to the base with one rough thrust. "M-more, it's so good daddy, fill my pussy with your fucking cock, fill me so fucking good, ah—"

She’s so goddamn drenched that it’s impossible to do anything else. Her hot cunt swallows up your length right down to the very base as you bottom out with ease, impaling Wonyoung balls fucking deep without resistance. 

“Shit, princess—love your cunt, love how tight you are,” you growl out, and nothing else feels better than the pure heat and wetness that comes along with being inside Wonyoung. It’s heavenly, how she clenches around every throbbing inch, once you're hilted deep, determined to never let you out of that hot, velvety grip.

"Your pretty little pussy loves daddy's cock, doesn't it? Creaming all over him the second he fills you right up," Yujin purrs, getting such a good view from her position, how your cock impales that dripping cunt with so little effort. The fact that you haven't even really begun, only a single slow series of strokes so far, and she's already a soaked mess, squirming all around in these restraints, what's left of the ribbons clinging tight to that smooth porcelain flesh.

All this warm, slippery flesh that hugs your cock—Wonyoung is so fucking tight that it’s maddening. 

Despite getting railed good and often by the both of you, those velvety walls always clench up so impossibly tight around your shaft as it stretches her open, just like the first time. 

"Can’t imagine how tight you’re squeezing his huge cock, making daddy feel so damn good—princess must be so desperate to empty his balls straight into your womb. Is that what you want, baby? A nice, big, thick creampie, filling up this greedy little pussy?"

The lewd, depraved things that leave Yujin's lips are more than enough encouragement to keep this momentum building, pumping your cock in and out of Wonyoung’s wet heat like you belong there, buried all the way inside while those pale legs dangle from your shoulders.

"F-fuck, daddy, feels so good when you fuck me, when you're balls deep, so fucking deep—just ruin me, ruin daddy's pretty little slut, please…” 

So easy to oblige her when she’s begging like this, that you can’t help hugging those creamy long legs while you piston your hips at a merciless pace. So easy to see the desperation in her eyes, and the harder you move, the more erratic she gasps out while you ram your cock through all the wet flesh of her slick cunt, the sound of skin on skin echoing around the room. 

“God, princess—you feel so incredible,” you groan, hips relentless as you plunge so deep. Somewhere along the way, Yujin slides up next to Wonyoung, encouraging that stream of pathetic noises, each sweet moan punctuating your harsh thrusts.

"Just listen to her, daddy. Listen how she enjoys that big fucking cock rearranging her guts—pretty little whore is about to cum any second now, isn't she?" Yujin asks, her fingers dancing across Wonyoung's chest, tracing the intricate details of the red ribbons clinging tightly to her smooth, silky skin. "Wanna give her what she wants? Get this slut all folded up and maybe she'll cum a little faster for you?"

Without a doubt, you know Wonyoung would love nothing more than that, your cock just plunging inside, pounding deep inside over and over again—

So you do exactly what Yujin suggests, pushing both legs forward towards her head, until her knees almost hit her shoulders. Then you've got her all folded in half, the perfect position to hit even deeper, putting those flexible limbs to good use, arms still helplessly tied together. “D-daddy!” 

And that's when you give a rough slam back inside her dripping cunt, immediately having the intended effect when you bottom out so easily at such a different angle, your heavy balls slamming right up against her ass while you drive all those loud cries out of her mouth—

"D-daddy, fuck! So fucking deep, s-shit, you're gonna make me cum, oh please, g-gonna make me fucking cum!"

When her words devolve into desperate babbles, that's when you know you're doing something right. You’re driving every inch into her, leaving that cunt so impossibly slick when you pound into that flesh that grips without relent. 

"There you go, daddy, keep fucking her like that. Use this pretty little fuckdoll until she's gushing all over your huge cock," Yujin encourages from beside, turning all her focus now onto Wonyoung as she leans right in to wrap a hand around that pale throat, squeezing firmly, and fuck—

Wonyoung just falls apart. Then she's just whimpering, every sound she tries to make barely audible when she's cumming on your cock, eyes rolling to the back of her head. There's nothing more beautiful, listening to her broken moans, how she's downright sobbing from the pleasure, letting you ruin her as she drenches your entire cock, that climax flooding out like a broken fucking faucet and threatening to shove you right out. 

But instead, it just makes you pound into her that much harder, fucking her near delirious as she makes such a mess, gushing all over you while you keep pounding away until she's a shaking, trembling wreck.

"Look at our pretty present, cumming so fucking hard while you destroy that pussy," Yujin says, getting an even tighter grip around Wonyoung's neck, applying enough pressure to watch the girl's expression crumble. "That pussy is so good, isn't it? Wrapped around that big fucking cock of yours, must be so fucking desperate for your cum to be dumped inside.” 

She’s not even a little wrong, that wetness covering your whole length, your balls completely slick from just how Wonyoung absolutely floods out, and you’re not far behind.

"Princess, fuck—“you groan, pounding away into that dripping heat, this filthy squelch coming from between her legs growing even louder the longer you plunge deep. “Gonna fucking fill you right up, gonna breed you, empty everything inside this pretty fucking cunt." 

Wonyoung can't even form enough words to beg, hair matted all over her sweat-covered forehead, body going limp while you keep using her body like she’s built to be a toy. And then Yujin's suddenly there, right behind you, fingers cradling your balls so delicately while your cock pistons in and out of this heat—

"Can't wait to watch you breed this fucking cumslut. Want you to dump everything into her cunt, empty your balls, make her leak all of that thick creamy load everywhere," Yujin says, voice so sultry, hot breath all over you as those fingers squeeze so dangerously close. 

Unsurprisingly, Yujin doesn't stop there, fingers stimulating all sorts of sensitive areas, like she can feel everything that needs to be drained, each firm squeeze causing a jolt through your entire body. 

That hot breath moves away for only a fleeting moment, with Yujin abandoning her grasp on your balls while you keep those hips churning, sending a barrage of thrusts into that wet, hot vice of Wonyoung's pussy. And before you have time to miss Yujin’s touch, her tongue, slick and hot all at once starts teasing your ass, tongue prodding slowly and meticulously.

You can't even respond with anything but groans of appreciation, losing your train of thought each time Yujin gets her tongue buried so deep, taking such good care of you, urging you to blow your load inside Wonyoung. 

And god—that mouth does wonders as Yujin toys around the rim of your ass, making all sorts of sinful noises behind you. Through these intense licks, her hand works up a firm massage for those cum-filled balls, and you don't know which does more damage, or if it's simply a combination of both that sends you over the edge—but you can't resist anymore. 

"Breed me daddy, breed me so fucking full, need your hot fucking seed inside—p-please, please, cum in me. Want your hot fucking load in me, empty those huge fucking balls right in my little pussy, fuck, please please please—"

Hearing your helpless little gift so needy, pleading frantically for you to finish in her, mouth hanging open, with drool spilling down those red lips, that's what does you in. 

One final slam, balls deep into her tight, needy little pussy, and you don't waste a second unloading it all—pumping the biggest load, so fucking thick and heavy straight into her cunt. Each shot is so powerful, Yujin's tongue back in play, pressed right up against your asshole, making you groan even more while the palm of her hand gently massages and rolls your swollen, heavy balls around, coaxing every last drop from them to empty you completely. 

All that sticky warmth that empties endlessly into Wonyoung, painting the slick depths of her insides white—and it makes her squirt out even more, flooding all around your cum-coated length still buried deep inside as you fill her up, all the way to her womb. 

You’ve already unloaded so much inside, fucking it deeper until it's overflowing back out. Only when Yujin pulls her tongue from your ass do your thrusts finally stop, an absolute deluge of hot, thick seed that she's delighted to see leak out of Wonyoung when you gradually pull out. 

"Look at that," Yujin says with so much delight in her voice, getting an up-close view of the mess you've just made and having herself a taste. She laps it all right up with her eager tongue, slurping so loudly at the mix of your hot cum and that nectar from Wonyoung. “Dumped so fucking much into our little cumslut. Mm, fuck, that pussy must feel so full with daddy's hot load leaking out…” 

Between the panting, the heavy breaths, chest still heaving, Wonyoung gives a small little nod while you rest at the side of the bed, cock still glistening with a complete mess of your cum and hers. 

Yujin however, has all the energy in the world as she cleans up the aftermath, hands gripping so tightly onto Wonyoung’s milky thighs, face buried deep in between. She's every bit selfish, tongue dragging up to lick through those delicious cum-covered folds, so satisfied when she gathers up what leaks out. 

"Daddy’s cum tastes so fucking good when it's been pumped inside this needy slut," Yujin says, getting back to work sucking up the remnants of your huge dripping load. She's so ravenous when it comes to cleaning Wonyoung up, taking another indulgent lick right down the center, chin nearly glazed already. "So fucking messy too.”

For her part, all Wonyoung does is moan and whine as Yujin gives a few slaps to that already sensitive cunt, and you’re just watching all the wetness transfer from Wonyoung's heat into that eager mouth, who devours it all so happily. 

Were you not entirely exhausted, you'd be tempted to get right behind, slide into Yujin’s heavenly cunt, and empty whatever you have left into her next. Still might, but you're entirely useless at the moment, letting these two indulge themselves.

"Yujinnie—" Wonyoung whines, voice ragged from being thoroughly wrecked, but tone so very needy, as if begging for another release. And Yujin gets her lips sealed right on that engorged clit, giving exactly what Wonyoung desires. 

"Doesn't look like our present's tired yet. Should we untie her so she can empty your balls again? Maybe have her take your cock deep into that perfect ass while I ride your face? Sounds fun, doesn't it, daddy?"

Nothing sounds better. Maybe you don't need a respite just yet after all. 

❄ ❄

After round two (and then three and then four), a change of scenery is needed. So you all share a shower, change into comfy, festive pajamas, and head over to the spacious couch in the living room. The scent of pine permeates throughout the whole room, with this massive Christmas tree lit up with colorful lights the center of attention. 

There's no better time to indulge in the holiday spirit, lazing about on the couch where you find yourself pleasantly trapped between Yujin and Wonyoung, cuddling up alongside you for warmth while some cheesy Christmas movie plays in the background. 

The snow really starts coming down, heavier by the minute, enough that you'll be stuck inside—not that there's a reason to venture outdoors. Especially not when you have everything you could possibly want right here, hot cocoa, an excessive number of cookies, and the two prettiest girls on campus all over you.

"Merry Christmas, daddy," Yujin says seemingly out of nowhere, finding a nice spot to rest her head right upon your chest, playing with the pom-pom at the end of your hat. Not exactly what you pictured wearing for the entire night, but it's so impossible to say no to Yujin's requests, so you'll wear whatever she puts on you to keep that smile on her face.

"Merry Christmas, Yudolph.” You can hardly finish the sentence without laughing at that ridiculous headband, reindeer antlers looking so cute atop her pretty head.

"No fair, you can't just steal my nickname," Wonyoung complains from the other side, grabbing a cookie from the plate on the coffee table. She feeds you the first bite before shoving the rest into her mouth, so unprincess-like the way she scarfs the rest down. 

"Why not, princess? What's yours is mine, anyway," Yujin replies, planting a kiss right on your cheek as proof. Wonyoung hardly stays mad, too caught up in eating another cookie before wiping the crumbs away from her mouth. She's almost embarrassed by the kiss that Yujin then plants on the corner of her lip, quickly flustered and so out of character, even though Yujin has never been shy to hide her affection. 

"Daddy is all mine, so that means you are too, Yudolph," Wonyoung counters, planting a little kiss to both of your faces, getting cute giggles from Yujin in response.

"Wow, did our princess finally learn how to share?" you ask, poorly stifling a laugh. 

"Don't count on it," Yujin says rather bluntly, still bouncing your pom-pom around with her fingers. "Anyway, it's almost midnight. What did Santa bring us tonight?"

"Hmm, what did he bring us, what's in these gifts?" Wonyoung asks so innocently, looking at the assortment of presents sitting near the tree, like there's more than just the three of you in this room. "A brand-new sexy set of lingerie and heels for Yujinnie? Maybe that leather catsuit you were talking about the other day..."

Yujin gets this little smirk on her face when she hears Wonyoung mention such a thought.

"And what about me?" Wonyoung continues. "I hope Santa brought me more outfits, I could use a new dress and lots of cute skirts to model for daddy—" 

"I don't think the princess gets anything after being on the naughty list this year," you add, earning a very cute pout from Wonyoung. 

"Isn't that every year for her?" Yujin asks, chuckling because she knows how true it is, not that being a brat never stops her from taking such pride in it.

"Hey, I deserve a nice present too, after all the times I'm on my knees. Santa better reward me well this year," Wonyoung says, whining so dramatically.

"Doesn't he reward you enough? Filling you up every time you sit on his lap?" Yujin asks, rather rhetorically, and this conversation might be the end of you.

"As if I could ever get enough of daddy pulling my hair and spanking my ass red. I'm on the top of the naughty list for a reason." 

You have a very hard time not laughing at how utterly ridiculous and proud that statement is.

"Well, don't worry princess. We have something very special for you," Yujin reassures, giving her one more peck on the forehead. "So, wanna get Santa his gift? I think we've all been plenty naughty anyway,"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not moving an inch. Daddy's too warm and comfy for me to get up," Wonyoung says in protest, snuggling into the crook of your neck and wrapping her arms even tighter around your chest. Yujin can't exactly argue there, joining in to ensure you can't possibly move, trapping you so nicely between the both of them.

"Too warm and comfy," Yujin repeats, and you're more than content to never move from this spot ever again. It's the kind of warmth you never want to leave, especially not on a night as chilly as this one, the perfect excuse to spend hours cooped up by the fireplace together.

"Merry Christmas, daddy—" They both say in unison as the clock finally strikes midnight. "You're not going anywhere, we won't let you."

This is absolutely the best present you could ask for.

[colouredbyd]

okay sooo i had an idea that might be incredibly outdated by now but it’s my favoriteeee and i’d love to see ur own spin on it

i’m thinking either regulus or barty (which ever u think fits better) who is incredibly warm like all the time, think walking radiator😭 and reader is just really cold 24/7 and uses him to warm up whenever she sees fit :,)

love love ur work and your page btw !! so beautiful

Stolen Warmth

bartylus x fem!reader

synopsis: in which barty, always the warmest among you, finds his heat intensified by a lingering fever—an unexpected advantage that you and regulus cannot ignore. perpetually cold, the two of you compete and conspire to claim his reluctant warmth, turning every cuddle into a battle.

warnings: mild illness/fever, light bickering, playful teasing, animagi chasing, mild emotional tension, some physical discomfort (cold/heat sensitivity), regulus being a little shit, sick/soft barty, fluff fluff fluff

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i did a little twist to this, and since i couldn't pick between barty and regulus, thought i'd do both <33 hope this meets your expectations!

masterlist

You bolt out of class the moment the professor mutters dismissal, not even bothering to shove your quill fully into your bag as you barrel through the corridors. 

Your fingers are already numb, curled tightly around your scarf, and your thoughts are consumed by a single, glorious truth: Barty is in the dorm, and according to the sacred cuddle schedule, it is your turn—not Regulus’s.

You love both of your boyfriends, you really, really do, but cuddling with Regulus is an actual nightmare. 

He’s beautiful, devastatingly beautiful, but he’s also so bloody cold, and curling up with him feels less like affection and more like someone’s slipped a block of ice between your ribs. You have endured it before, out of love and obligation.

Barty, on the other hand, is blessedly, unfairly warm, like some ancient elemental spirit of heat and comfort wrapped in sleepy eyes and strong arms. 

And while most people assume that being in a relationship with two boys would come with all sorts of complicated emotional drama, the truth is, the only real conflict you ever face is the bitter, eternal war between you and Regulus over who gets to absorb Barty’s body heat first. 

Today, the universe has aligned. Barty is in bed, warm beyond reason, and by all that is holy in the cuddle constitution, that warmth belongs to you.

Which is why you’re here, running full speed through the corridor like your life depends on it, because if Regulus gets there before you, he will wrap himself around Barty like a smug, aristocratic scarf and never let go, and you won't have any leftover heat.

Your footsteps echo sharply as you sprint down the stairs, nearly slipping when you round the corner that leads to the Slytherin dormitory.

You slow just enough to give the stone wall the correct password, then push through the entrance, half-blind with purpose and windburn.

But the second your eyes land on the corridor leading to your shared room, your stomach drops.

There he is.

A sleek black cat sits calmly just outside the door, tail flicking with smug precision. His pale green eyes meet yours, gleaming with the unmistakable glint of mischief.

“Regulus, you little shit,” you hiss, voice thick with betrayal.

He meows, almost mockingly, then turns and bolts.

Your legs move before your brain catches up. “Oh no, you don’t!” you shout, slamming your bag against the wall as you give chase. 

Your boots skid on the polished stone floor as you race after him, your scarf flapping wildly behind you like a flag of war.

He darts around corners with practiced grace, sleek and unbothered, tail curling just so as if to taunt you. You, on the other hand, are panting and flustered, your frozen fingers clenched into fists as you throw yourself forward, heart pounding not from fear but from pure, unfiltered indignation.

He’s going to beat you to Barty. 

And you’ll be damned if you let that smug little bastard steal your heat slot.

“Regulus!” you yell, chasing him as he darts like a shadow toward your dorm door and the warm, toasty boy inside.

You lunge the moment his slick black tail flicks around the corner, and just as Regulus-still in cat form—is about to slink triumphantly into the dorm room, you skid in front of the door and slam it shut with both palms.

The thud echoes like victory.

You whip around, hair disheveled, chest heaving from the chase, as the cat freezes just inches from the door. 

He glares up at you with those imperious green eyes, his tail flicking like an insult, his tiny cat nose twitching in blatant offense—as if you’re the one committing treason.

But you’re already reaching into your robe pocket with the righteousness of a lawyer mid-trial, and you produce the parchment scroll with theatrical precision.

Barty’s gold-inked title gleams at the top like a royal decree: “Heat Access Schedule: Property of Bartemius C. Crouch Jr.” It sparkles obnoxiously.

You crouch to his level, unravel the scroll with theatrical flair, and jab your finger at the bold, clearly marked time slot.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” you pant, triumph dripping from every syllable as you flash him your most evil grin, “it is my time. Seven to eight thirty. Right there. And I quote—‘Lap and chest privileges at full discretion of Y/N.’ That clause was reviewed, signed, and stamped with Barty’s wax seal. This is legally binding under the cuddle constitution and you damn well know it.”

He blinks slowly.

Then slowly, too slowly, he lifts his paw, unsheathes one delicate little claw, and rips the parchment in half. The sound of tearing paper is somehow louder than it should be.

You freeze, staring at the ruined remains of the schedule as they flutter pitifully to the floor like the ashes of your last shred of patience.

“Are you kidding me?!” you shriek. “You absolute menace! I need my cuddles, Regulus! Stop being a selfish little—”

You launch forward to grab him, but he’s already leapt backward like a slippery shadow, tail high and smug as he bolts for the dorm.

“Get back here!” you yell, nearly tripping as you scramble after him.

“YOU'RE A CAT, NOT A THIEF!—COME BACK AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!”

He lets out a low, unimpressed meow that sounds suspiciously like a scoff. You swear he raises an eyebrow, somehow, despite having fur.

“Fine,” you mutter, standing up with exaggerated weariness.

“If rules don’t mean anything to you, then I guess I’ll just go all alone into the cold, where I’ll probably freeze to death. But no, it’s okay—don’t worry about me.”

You sniff loudly, tugging your scarf higher over your nose like a tragic orphan. “It’s not like I haven’t been feeling faint all day. I mean, I’m only showing early signs of hypothermia—tingling fingers, shivering spine, loss of will to live—minor things, really.”

You wobble slightly on your feet for effect. “I was just hoping for a little warmth. A little kindness or cuddle, maybe. But clearly…” You sigh as your voice breaks. “Clearly I was wrong.”

The silence stretches.

Then, with the softest rustle of fur and magic, Regulus shifts.

It begins with a shimmer around his paws, a ripple of something ancient and practiced. In the space of a heartbeat, where the cat stood, there is now a boy—pale-skinned and annoyingly elegant even barefoot in a dorm hallway.

His black curls fall into his eyes as he studies you, his expression exasperated but ever so slightly fond.

“Oh, amour,” he murmurs, voice like velvet steeped in sarcasm. “Are you truly that cold? I am so sorry.”

You blink at him, lips trembling—not from cold, but from the effort it takes not to laugh.

And in that single, suspended moment of sympathy, you twist, grab the door handle behind you, and barge inside.

“Barty!” you yell, throwing yourself onto the bed in a blur of scarf and limbs.

Behind you, there is a stunned silence.

“You sneaky lying maniac!” Regulus bellows from the hallway. “Tu es un démon! Une menteuse! Une petite actrice  dramatique—je vais te tuer!”

You hear the slam of the door, the rapid slap of bare feet against stone, and then he is chasing you again—but it’s too late. You’ve already landed on Barty, who is lying sideways across the bed with his arms open in sleepy confusion.

He jerks upright with a startled grunt, arms instinctively catching you even as his eyes snap open wide.

“What the—what the bloody hell is going on?” he exclaims, voice pitched somewhere between alarmed and scandalized. “Did you just launch yourself at me?”

You look up at him, breath catching in your throat. His hair is tousled from sleep, shirt rumpled, and his hands are already settling instinctively around your waist despite his confusion.

Your voice drops, soft and a little breathless. “Barty,” you say, eyes searching his face, “I missed you.”

His brows draw together, tension easing just slightly as his lips twitch into something warmer, something fond.

“I missed you too, trouble,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers through your hair.

You barely have a second to enjoy the warmth of his chest and the way his heartbeat slows beneath your cheek—before the dorm door slams open behind you.

Regulus bursts in, wild-eyed and betrayed, breathing like he’s just sprinted across the castle and looking absolutely offended by the sight of you already cuddled into Barty’s arms.

“Putain de voleuse de chaleur !” he snaps, voice sharp and scathing. “You stole him! You stole Barty’s warmth, you freezing little traitor—sorcière glacée !”

Barty immediately tenses beneath you, looking from Regulus to you with the wide-eyed panic of a man caught in the middle of a house fire.

“What,” he says slowly, carefully, “did you both do?”

There’s a pause.

You and Regulus both inhale like you’re about to deliver reasoned, mature explanations.

And then—

“You ripped the contract!” you shout, flinging your hand toward Regulus.

“I’m colder than you!” Regulus yells back at the same time.

“You used your cat form to cheat and get here faster—”

“You cuddled him twice yesterday, for longer than your allotted time slot—”

“I needed this, my fingers were numb, Regulus—”

“I have poor circulation!”

“You tore up the only system we had—”

“You lied about being sick!”

“You always turn into a cat and sneak under the blankets—”

Their voices collide, climbing louder and louder until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Barty sits frozen between you, arms half-raised like he’s afraid moving might trigger further destruction.

Eventually, Barty sighs—a long, slow breath that carries all the patience and quiet surrender of a man who has given up.

He simply lies back down on the bed, rolling gently onto his side as if inviting the chaos to come to him. He pulls the blanket up over his chest, closing his eyes briefly before lifting one arm just slightly—an unspoken offer.

You and Regulus exchange a glance, both of you frozen for a moment, then drawn in by that quiet invitation like moths to a flame.

Without hesitation, you slip forward and curl into the warmth of Barty’s chest, your hands sliding beneath the soft fabric of the blanket, seeking the steady, comforting heat that only he can provide.

Regulus follows, settling on the other side of Barty, his cold fingers lightly brushing against your arm. His breath is soft and steady as he presses closer, resting his cheek near the curve of Barty’s neck, as if he’s finally found a place where he belongs.

The three of you lie there, perfectly still, the silence full and heavy with the weight of shared warmth and unspoken affection.

After a moment, Regulus slowly blinks up at you, his eyes shining with quiet tenderness.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle.

You smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Je t’aime, me or Barty?” you tease lightly, nuzzling closer.

Regulus’s lips curve into a mischievous grin. “Je t’aime, you and barty.”

Barty stirs at that, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the congestion weighing on him. He coughs softly, then says, “I love you too, Black.”

You both laugh quietly, the sound mingling with the gentle rhythm of Barty’s breathing.

Though Barty feels utterly miserable beneath his fevered skin, the contentment of being held by both of you is clear in his softened expression. His arm tightens just a fraction around your waist as he lets himself drift toward sleep.

He doesn’t complain, not really. If anything, there’s a sort of smug peace to him now, even in the throes of whatever miserable cold he’s caught. His fever, for once, has a purpose. His body, too warm to be comfortable for himself, is perfect for the two of you.

And even if his throat aches and his head’s spinning and his entire being feels like it's made of soup, he can’t help but feel vaguely victorious. He is loved, wanted, fought over. He is, in the worst of health, still the prize.

And for one perfect, quiet moment, it works.

The dorm is warm and dim, your breath soft against his collarbone, Regulus’s curls tickling the back of his neck, all of you tucked under the covers in one tangle of limbs and shared heat.

Barty lets his eyes fall shut. His body relaxes.

He starts to drift.

And just as the room settles into a perfect, peaceful stillness—

“AH!” you shriek, bolting upright as if struck by lightning. “Regulus!—move your freezing toes away from me!”

[irsfjin]

hopeless

he sat there with his eyes trained on his phone

eyes lighting up at the screen, a smile teasing his lips

satoru did this almost every night, becoming so engrossed that he doesn't even notice you entering the room you share

"toru, please..." you beg

he looks up, a bit of surprise slipping out of his eyes

quickly, he turns his phone off and places it face down against the bed, practiced

"hey, pretty girl"

"seriously? this is the 5th day in a row now" you ignore him as you make your way towards his phone

taking his phone away, with only a little "cmon baby..." coming out of him as a protest

you open his phone only to see exactly what you've been suspecting

"toru, my insta page might just block you itself. it must be tired of you by now"

his screen opened to a story that was placed in the middle of one of your highlights

"god forbid i love the love of my life" satoru argues

"by memorising every corner of my page?"

"yes, i still haven't picked my favourite yet and i always give my baby an answer" it was when you caught him stalking your page for the 10th time, 2 months into dating

"have u picked a favourite yet?" it was teasing, but now with your 2 year anniversary coming back, his dedication to the mission of finding his favourite picture that you've posted has remained consistent

"you're just so beautiful my love, i can't decide between the 10th video in your 2nd highlight, where you were giggling, the 6th in your 5th one... that's the one where you made that really cute face i like..." he drones on

you always act annoyed, but really how can you be when you have managed to find someone who loves and appreciates you like you're the source of light and life itself

and satoru on the other hand, he already has picked his favourite

a picture of you, wrapped in his scarf, in his car, smiling at him

[sturnioz]

shy!reader and fratboy!chris partaking in popular tiktok trends.

# ( SCARY DOG PRIVELLEGE )

you don't usually walk around at night, but with an extreme craving for ice-cream and bee having your car for an impromptu date with nate, you had no other choice but to walk.

you don't mind: the air is cool and breezy, the stars in the sky look beautiful, the moon shines bright—lighting up the crosswalk for you to see easily—and the vanilla ice-cream cone with strawberry drizzle and extra sprinkles is held tightly in your grasp, lathering up your tastebuds with each lick.

you take out your phone to film a little video for your tikok, eager to show what you got and how aesthetically pleasing the night-life looks around you. grinning into the camera, your cheeks puffed and warm against your fuzzy scarf, you angle your phone toward the ice-cream, bringing it as close to your face as possible.

then, you raise your phone high above your head, mainly to capture the moon and the stars, but instead, it focuses on chris. he's walking behind you, a few steps short from where you are but close enough for the camera to notice him.

he's dressed in black pants, a white t-shirt, and a black faux fur jacket to keep him warm—his usual black cap perched on his head and messy curls peeking from beneath with a joint hanging loosely from his lips, smoking curling above him in tendrils.

chris doesn't smile or wave at the camera which you expected, he just stares, his light blue eyes glistening every few seconds due to the moonlight shining down on him, the colour piercing in the recording.

you slowly bring your arm back down, giving the camera another cheesy grin with your ice-cream in view before pressing the end button, captioning the video with an ice-cream emoji, smiling emoji and moon emoji before posting.

you didn't realise you had accidentally filmed a trend until a few hours later, eyebrows furrowing as you watch the comments roll in with all different types of reactions to chris being used as your scary dog privilege to walk alone at night.

# ( JACKED AND KIND )

"can we try this?"

the words leave your mouth in a rush and you're already shoving the phone in front of his face with urgency. chris flinches back at the sudden motion, his head avoiding your phone as his hand instinctively raises to block it.

the movement makes you clutch your phone tighter—worried that he'd knock it out of your grasp.

his eyes squint, brow furrowing as he watches the video replay over and over again, his expression deadpanned as the guy in the video lifts the girl up on his shoulders. he huffs in annoyance, shaking his head and swats your hand away dismissively.

"no." he says flatly, tone clipped and final.

"please?" you ask, your voice softening as you try again, a small pout tugging at your bottom lip as you inch the phone closer to his face once more, only to be met with an angry glare and grunt—a warning for you to back off.

usually, this would make you stop. but you're relentless this time. you've seen this trend all over your for you page on tiktok, and the idea of participating feels too exciting to give up just yet.

"please?" you press on again, your words tumbling out in a rush. "just once? i saw kitty and matt do it, and bee and nate did it too... i want to join in."

chris stares at you wordlessly, ignoring the tiktok that's replaying on your phone in front of him, eyes glaring straight into yours. his silence makes you falter, and you accept defeat, your shoulders slumping as you retract the phone to walk away.

but chris lets out a heavy sigh, rolling his tongue across his teeth as he pushes himself off the edge of his bed, "a'ight. quick. c'mon."

you're beaming, a bright smile stretching across your face in delight as you quickly set your phone on his desk, propping it against his metal tin, making sure you're both in frame and setting a timer before bouncing over to chris.

you barely take notice how uninterested and annoyed chris looks on camera, and you patiently wait, watching the timer go down and listening to the lyrics carefully before tapping his arm excitedly when the part comes.

his hands find your waist, ringed fingers pressing into your stomach and tightening as he lifts you up with an assisted jump and squeal from you, uncontrollable giggles bubbling from your throat as he props you onto his shoulder.

you stay like that for a few seconds, your hand holding him for balance even though it's clear you're perfectly situated on him with his grip, and you mouth the lyrics happily until you feel him move beneath you.

your excited smile drops a little, moulding into a pout and face twisting in confusion as chris turns while the camera is still recording you both, his sock covered feet thumping quietly against the floorboard as he walks towards his bed.

"what are you doing?" you ask him, peering back at your phone. "we're... we're not done yet!"

"we're done." he bluntly says, moving his hands to a different position on your body and a yelp leaves your lips, the recording catching the last few seconds of him throwing you off his shoulder and onto the bed with a bounce.

# ( CAN YOU WATCH MY ___ FOR ME? )

"i need to go get something, can you watch chris for me?" you quickly say, barely able to contain yourself as you giggle and set the phone in front of chris, propping it against his drink before darting out of the kitchen as fast as you can before he can say anything to you.

chris doesn't even look up as you leave, staring at the camera with a cold, deadpan expression as he sits there, motionless for a moment before scooping a spoonful of rice and veggies into his mouth.

the sound of his chewing is quiet, his jaw flexing slightly as he swallows, then his eyebrows pinch together in subtle irritation, letting out a small huff through his nose. he scratches at his temple lazily, his eyes flicking to the bowl in front of him, and back to the phone recording him.

the longer he stares, the deeper the crease between his brows becomes.

"this is fuckin' stupid," he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his food with an exaggerated motion, reaching out with his free hand to hit the screen and end the recording.

but before he can shut it off, the kitchen door swings open, and a few frat brothers stroll in, their laughter and conversations loud. chris is briefly side-tracked, his hand hovering over the phone as his head turns to one of the frat brothers when they call out his name.

he acknowledges him with a curt nod and a hum, not noticing that nate's creeping up behind him.

"what is this?" nate asks, leaning over chris' shoulder to peer at the phone.

chris' attention flicks back to the recording device, shrugging. "it's bun's fuckin' phone. left it recordin' me for whatever fuckin' reason."

"oh. i know this, it's a tiktok trend," nate grins, quickly snatching up the phone and tilting it toward himself, taking the spotlight as he naturally begins to yap with confidence, deep diving into the most weirdest, random facts as if he's been waiting for his moment his whole life.

he then takes the phone over to the refrigerator to show his premade meals, showing off its contents and explain the ingredients in detail as the other frat brothers crowd into frame, pointing at their own containers and proudly showing off.

"oh, yo wait. show this," one of the brothers pipes up, reaching into the bottom shelf and pulling out a tray of cookies you baked the other day to show the camera. "bun made these—chocolate chip 'n sugar cookies. look at the icing details on this. that's art. that's bob ross type shit."

a few moments later, you stroll back into the kitchen, a bright smile on your face as you expect to find chris still sitting quietly in front of the camera. but instead, you falter, looking confused when you don't see your phone where you originally left it.

blinking, you glance around until you spot the group of frat brothers huddled together at the refrigerator, grinning and talking to the imaginary audience on your phone in nate's hand.

well, that wasn't the original plan.

...but you're not mad.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[brownbuttercookies]

it’s finished!!! rainbow scarf, yarn by bona yarns and pattern is the terra maris lace shawl on ravelry. no modeling shots till it’s done blocking but it’s too beautiful to not share 😸

[talesofesther]

ten reasons not to kiss her

➥ Ch one: The first reason

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: Natasha slowly adapts to a life by your side, all the while thinking of all the reasons why she shouldn't kiss you.

A/N: This story is a labour of love. I have loved Natasha for longer than I can remember, and this story is that love written down. If you ever wondered what Natasha would be like as a partner, this story will show you. <3 At first, this was going to be a very long one-shot, but I decided that it looks and works much better divided into chapters. The chapters won't be huge, but the updates will also not take long to come out. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing; let me know your thoughts.

Masterlist

It had been a strange decision from the start.

Natasha did not need an apartment; she could live in a million-dollar tower if she wanted to.

She rented an apartment anyway. It was a small thing, only a couple of blocks away from Stark's tower. Sometimes, free will still felt like a foreign concept. Natasha wanted to break the cycle; she wanted a thing of her own, a home to go back to that was solely hers. And maybe that concept was even more foreign, but she was content.

The time she spent in her apartment didn't have a schedule or pattern. Work kept her away for several days at a time. Good work, clean work—Natasha would tell herself over and over each time she put on her black suit. If she stole files for SHIELD, if she took people's lives, it was for a good cause. She was going clean; she was washing away the red on her ledger.

Natasha told herself over and over. A mantra, muttered under her breath. Maybe if she said it enough times, she'd believe it.

On free days, she went back to her apartment. The decoration was still bare and dull; cream colored walls had no art or portraits on them, there was a single grey couch in front of a flat screen tv, a small kitchen with only the necessary amount of cutlery for one person, and thin curtains that did nothing to keep sunlight away and flowed easily with the wind.

But Natasha liked it. She had bought a small potted plant on a whim; the little thing had its place on her windowsill, and a rush of giddy pride filled Natasha when she noticed a new green leaf had grown after a few days of close care. It was peaceful, it was quiet. Natasha never had anything of her own. This? It belonged to her.

It didn't take too long for Natasha to meet you, then. When she rented the apartment, Natasha forgot to consider that she'd have neighbors.

She was about to step into the only elevator of the building. You, were rushing out of it.

Natasha had quick reflexes; she took hold of both your arms before you could crash into her and undoubtedly spill the coffee inside the to-go cup you were holding.

You gasped in surprise, looking at Natasha with widened eyes. And she frowned, more at herself than at you; because Natasha immediately noticed how beautiful your eyes were, even under the crappy blinking light of the hallway.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." You were quick to say. You had a burgundy scarf around your neck, which matched the pink of your cheeks. Maybe it was colder outside.

One of your hands grasped at the fabric of Natasha's black bomber jacket, around her forearm—out of reflex, no doubt—but Natasha was a little too aware of your touch. She averted her gaze, focusing on the open doors of the elevator behind you.

She shook her head dismissively. "No problem."

"You're my new neighbor."

When Natasha looked at you again, her brow raised with curiosity. She noticed that the smile on your lips was as soft as your voice. Natasha should not be looking at your lips.

"I had noticed the door next to mine was vacant. And then it wasn't." You explained further with a shrug when the redhead, still holding onto your arms, kept silent. Your eyes carefully followed the curls of her red hair. "Welcome."

Natasha held your stare for a second longer. She could only nod. She hurried inside the elevator and away from you faster than she meant to.

There was a kindness to you. Each time you and Natasha happened upon each other again—in the elevator, when you'd be arriving home at night and Natasha was just leaving, sometimes in the street just before going inside the apartment building—you always greeted her with a smile and a small wave, even on the days when she'd give you nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement.

In just a couple of weeks, you became a peculiar variable in Natasha's life, something she wasn't used to. She hadn't accounted on meeting someone like you. Someone as sweet as you.

At first, Natasha avoided you like the plague. At the same time, she secretly always hoped you'd find her, anyway.

And you did, because when Natasha walked into the cozy coffee shop across the street from the building, the face that greeted her at the counter was yours. There was a barely there falter on her steps, a fleeting moment of hesitation where Natasha considered choosing another place to buy coffee. But the poorly contained excitement shining bright in your eyes as soon as you noticed Natasha opening the door kept her hostage.

The place was very inviting, with brick walls, order suggestions written with chalk on blackboards, plush red seats that were too carefully crafted to be from this decade, and a grunge melody coming from a vintage jukebox in the corner.

Natasha reached the counter, gripping the edge with her hands. A beat or two passed, and she pretended to look at the coffee suggestions written to your right.

You waited until she was ready. You were kind like that.

When the redhead chanced a glance at you, that soft smile of yours that Natasha had already memorized the shape of was back; "What can I get you?"

She raised a brow, deciding on a challenge. "Why don't you surprise me?" Natasha's voice was velvety, her smirk tantalizing.

And you did, when you attuned with her quickly. You tapped your pen against your lips once, twice; smile not wavering. You wrote something down in your notepad. "It would be my pleasure."

Natasha chose to sit in a booth by the nearest window, which had a clear view of both the door and the counter.

You brought the coffee to her yourself. A Macchiato, along with a plate holding two chocolate cookies. You placed it in front of her with a quiet "Enjoy" falling past your lips.

Natasha drank the coffee and had to hold back a groan of satisfaction. She took a second sip and glanced up towards the counter in the same heartbeat. You caught her staring, but she caught you staring back. Your eyes had already been on her.

Natasha fought a smile when she watched the way your bashful eyes avoided hers, and a smile of your own framed your pink cheeks and crinkled the sides of your eyes.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Natasha had trouble looking away from you. She realized, with sudden shortness of breath, that she too became softer in your presence.

This sort of love was not allowed for someone like her. You were both too soft, and the world around you was all knives and chipped teeth. Natasha knew it well. And she should not be looking at your lips. This was the first reason why.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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Thank you for reading this chapter. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[sunday-bug]

Popping Cherry Blossoms

Pairing: 40's!Virgin!Bucky x Virgin!Girlfriend!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Content: mostly fluff, brief mentions of sex, virginity loss

Synopsis: Bucky and his girl sneak away from the Cherry Blossom Festival for some sweet alone time.

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for AA Spring Bingo; inspired by the song "Hold Her While You Can" by Stephen Sanchez

Prompt/Square: "Cherry blossom festival"/1

Card Number: AAS002

This is the first time you’ve travelled with his family, and you are a bit nervous. His mom and dad are both quiet folks, but you’ve always gotten along with Rebecca. You just really want to make a good impression. The drive from Brooklyn is a little over four hours long, and thankfully the weather is decent with a nice breeze. His parents put the top down as you get into D.C. proper, and Bucky helps you secure your scarf over your hair. 

“Real nice day for this,” his dad says from the driver’s seat, looking out at the cherry blossoms in the distance. 

“It certainly is,” his mom agrees, turning toward the three of you in the backseat. Rebecca is sitting in the middle, always the chaperone. “I’m glad your folks let you come along,” she says sweetly. “And I know Bucky is ecstatic.” You look at him and see his cheeks redden at his mom’s comment. Rebecca giggles in between you both. 

“Here we are,” his dad murmurs, pulling into the hotel’s porte-cochère. Bucky opens his door and slides out, helping his sister and then you. You all stretch your legs, and Bucky sneakily brushes his knuckles up your bare arm.

“James, come help this young man with our bags,” his dad orders, nodding to the porter. Bucky smiles at you sweetly and walks to the trunk, pulling out the bags. 

His parents check in to the hotel and you are led up to your conjoined rooms. One for you and Rebecca, and the other for Bucky and his parents. Your parents agreed to this trip on one condition: separate rooms, and his parents agreed heartily. 

Your bags arrive at your respective rooms and you unpack your items into the wardrobe for your two night stay. You all plan to visit some landmarks in the area on your second day here. Becca flops down on the bed near the door, marking it as hers, which you’re glad for. You love looking out at the stars before you fall asleep. You pace the room a bit, checking your profile in the mirror and blotting your lipstick.

“You look beautiful as always,” Becca says, rolling her eyes. “He thinks you hung the moon, you know.”

You look away from the mirror and smile, smoothing your dress. “Thanks Becca.” 

A soft knock raps on the conjoining door and Bucky’s perfect head of hair peeks through. “Are you ladies decent? We’re getting ready to walk down to the festival.” You giggle and ruffle his hair. “We’ll be out in a moment.” 

You and Rebecca gather your handbags and help each other knot your scarves around your hair as the day was a bit breezy before stepping into the hallway to meet the other three. You all head down to the lobby and Bucky offers you his arm as you step onto the city sidewalk, directing you away from the street. His parents and Becca walk a few feet ahead of you, leading the way to the festival.

“My dad said we could break off once we get there and walk alone,” he says sweetly. You look up at him, the sun shining through his dark hair, and sneak a quick kiss on the cheek, wiping your lipstick off of his soft skin after. 

“Destroying the evidence?” He teases. 

“Something like that,” you chime. 

“I’m glad you could come,” he leans down to whisper into your ear.

“Me too.” 

You all walk in peace for several blocks. The sweet smell hits you before the sight of the actual trees does. The soft perfume of the pink flowers fills your nostrils and you take a deep breath in. The breeze is light enough that you take your scarf off and let the air blow through your curls. Bucky takes a breath and sighs. “They don’t smell as sweet as you,” he brushes against your hair and a shiver runs down your spine.

Becca walks back toward the two of you and hands Bucky some money. “Dad says don’t spend it all in one place and behave. Meet back at this spot in two hours.” Bucky laughs and takes the money from her before putting it in his wallet. You spy the photo he took of you at Christmas in the wallet and smile to yourself, your hand reaching up to touch the locket around your neck that contained a photo of him taken last summer. Becca skips away to join her parents and Bucky steers you across the street to walk under the blooming trees.

You walk arm in arm again, looking up at the perfect pink petals and at his profile. He catches you looking and smiles, his eyes and nose crinkling. “You’re going to be the reason I have wrinkles while I’m still young,” he jokes, kissing your forehead. 

You giggle and look down at your Oxfords. “Well, you’re the reason I have creases in my shoes.” 

“How do you reckon that?” He asks playfully. 

You stop walking and grab his hand before reaching up to kiss his lips. As you break the chaste kiss, you look down at your shoes and his eyes follow, noticing the ever-growing crease in the leather from having to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips. Bucky chuckles and nods. 

“Then I hope you always have creases in your shoes,” he says, picking up a fallen twig of cherry blossom and handing it to you. You accept it gratefully.

“And I hope I have the privilege of seeing you with wrinkles,” you reply, smelling the flower.

“You will, doll. I promise you that.”

You keep walking down the street until you come upon a steaming cart that smells heavenly. Roman’s Roasted Nuts is printed on the side and you look up at Bucky with pleading eyes. He smirks and walks up to the cart, purchasing a small bag for you two to share. You find a park bench nearby and sit down as he opens the bag. He pulls out a pecan and offers it to you, which you gratefully accept. It’s hot, sweet, and delicious. “Thank you. I’m spoiled by you,” you giggle.

“My girl deserves it,” he says, kissing a bit of sugar from your lips. You blush at the continued PDA. 

“Bucky…” you start, holding his hand in yours.

“Yes, darling?”

“I have the key to Becca and I’s room.”

He swallows and his eyes go wide. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, taking it covertly from your cardigan pocket to show him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, rubbing your arm. You nod in response and stand up, waiting for him. “Well, we have,” you look down at your wristwatch, “one hour and thirteen minutes until we have to be back here.”

Bucky smirks at you and stands up, offering you his arm again as he looks around the crowd for a sign of his family. “They must be way down the road in the thick of it. Let’s go.”

You both rush back to the hotel, walking a little faster than necessary and not speaking much. You take your cardigan off as you get into the hotel, warmed from the walk back in the sun. Bucky takes it from you and carries it for you. The elevator operator takes you to your floor as you stand there like two kids about to get reprimanded by the principal even though you are both technically adults. Bucky takes the key from your cardigan pocket and unlocks your door slowly, sighing deeply.

“We don’t have to do this, Buck, if you don’t want to,” you assure him. He closes the door behind you both. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I want to. Trust me,” he groans, walking toward you and pulling you in for a deep kiss. He tastes like toothpaste, roasted pecans, and sugar. You open your mouth and let him explore yours with his tongue. He breaks off suddenly, his pupils blown wide. “I just want you to be sure. And I don’t want it to be… bad,” he finally admits.

“I’m sure. And I’m sure it won’t be bad, love,” you say. “Let's give ourselves some grace. We’re both new to this,” you tease gently. “I love you. I want this with you. And only you.”

“I love you so much,” he whispers, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Should we get undressed?”

You nod and turn around, “Unzip me.” He unzips your dress and it falls to the floor, leaving you in your slip and undergarments. He’s seen you in your slip once before by accident when he was picking you up for school and forgot to knock on your bedroom door. You watch him as you remove your slip and hose, leaving you standing in your panties and bra. His eyes travel slowly from your breasts to your waist and legs and back up again. You walk to him slowly and start to unbutton his shirt. He timidly rests his hands on your bare waist and your skin prickles as you work his shirt off and over his broad shoulders until his chest is bare. You plant a small kiss over his heart and he shivers.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, running his hands up and over your bra. You feel his arousal press into your leg and look down. He starts to unbuckle his belt and you feel the first bit of real nerves flood into your body. This is really happening. Finally, but no - not finally… right on time. He pulls his trousers down and is left in his underwear. 

“I think we’re supposed to put a towel down,” you murmur, walking quickly to the bathroom. “Rosemary in fifth period was talking about it. In case… ya know, anything happens.” Bucky just nods and watches you pull the bed covers back and lie the white towel in the center. “Should we get in bed, then?” You ask softly, playing with the clasp of your bra.

“Yes,” he stammers, watching as you unhook it and let it fall to the floor. The smallest noise escapes his throat at the sight of your bare breasts and it sends a wave of heat and pleasure to your core that you’ve never experienced at this caliber before. You’re suddenly both in bed under the covers and Bucky is hovering over you, kissing your lips and your neck desperately. 

“I love you so much, doll. I’m going to marry you someday. I promise,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes. 

“I love you, James,” you whisper. 

You both work your underwear off and lie there for a moment, staring at each other. “Should I…?” Bucky trails off, not sure what to do next. You nod, encouraging him.

“It’s okay,” you say, playing with his hair. “Go ahead.”

He maneuvers himself into the right position and pushes into you ever so slowly. 

“Oh my God,” he hisses. You bite your lip as your body accepts him with a stinging stretch. You make love for the first time together and it’s everything you thought it would be - sweet, sensual, a little awkward, and over fairly quickly. Afterwards, you lie next to each other under the covers for a few minutes and hold hands. 

“That was incredible,” he admits with a soft laugh, kissing your lips. “Did it hurt, sweetheart?” 

“It hurt a little bit, but it was nice,” you say, running your nails gently down his arm. “I’m glad we could be each other’s firsts.”

“First and last,” he corrects with a kiss to your hand. You both sit up and get dressed quickly. You check the clock on the wall and notice that you have twenty minutes to get back to the festival. Bucky picks up the towel and remakes the bed. 

“Destroying the evidence?” You ask with a giggle.

“Something like that,” he remarks.

🌸

[roboticchibitan]

Okay, I've made enough "blease knit gauge swatches. Swatchless projects killedy family" posts. This post is an informational post a out gauge swatches. It will mainly be written in knitting terms because that is my main craft but it applies to crochet too. Even if you're an experienced crafter, you might learn something from this post. I talk about different reasons to make a swatch and some reasons a swatch might lie to you.

What is gauge?

Gauge is the size of your stitches, ie how wide and tall they are. It can be affected by the way you hold the yarn, your tension, and your needle/hook size. In knitting the style you knit can affect this, with the tendency being that English style is usually, but not always, tighter than continental. When I went from knitting English style to knitting Norwegian style, my gauge drastically changed to be much looser.

What is a gauge swatch?

A gauge swatch is a small piece of work that you use to measure your stitches per inch and rows per inch gauge. "Standard" gauge swatches are 4in/10cm squares, but often you'll see different sizes, especially for lace patterns that have you test knitting a certain chart or stitch

Why do we make gauge swatches?

We make gauge swatches to check if our gauge is the same as the pattern designer's gauge. Because you want your gauge to be the same as the pattern designer's so you know your size XL sweater will actually be size XL or your six foot in diameter shawl will actually be six feet across. Or that your airy and beautiful lace will actually be airy and beautiful and not too dense or too loose.

We also might swatch if we are substituting yarns. For example, a blocked lace swatch of wool will have different dimensions than a blocked lace swatch of pure silk because silk is less stretchy than wool. So if you are substituting fibers, you want to know that you'll like the finished item and might swatch a bit of the pattern before starting in earnest so you don't waste your time making something you'll be dissatisfied with.

There's also some differences between yarns of the same fiber and same weight. Some lace weight yarn is categorized as lace weight while being 600 yds per 100g, and some lace weight yarn is 800 yds or 1000 yds per 100g. So you should knit a swatch when substituting yarn even if they are the same fiber and weight if they are different yardage per gram ratios.

Do I always need to make a gauge swatch?

I talk a lot about the importance of gauge swatches but the honest answer is no, you do not always need to make a gauge swatch. If you are making something that doesn't require a certain size or airiness of pattern, like a bag or a simple scarf, you don't need to do a gauge swatch.

How do I make a gauge swatch?

Most patterns have a simple gauge listed, such as 22 stitches by 18 rows is 4in/10cm square in stockinette. However, some patterns have an "in pattern" gauge swatch or a separate pattern/chart for their swatch. So you cast on however many stitches (I often cast on a few more than the swatch calls for, but you don't have to), and knit that many rows in whatever pattern is specifed. If it's stockinette, knit stockinette. If it's "in pattern," locate the repeating part of the pattern and knit the designated amount of rows. If there is a separate pattern/chart for the swatch, knit as directed. Bind off. Don't measure on the needle, it will lie to you.

Then, you want to treat the swatch how you'll treat the finished object. If you're not going to block the finished object, measure it as is. But if you're going to block the finished object (and most things you should tbh blocking hides so many sins), you get the swatch wet, pin it out to shape, and then leave it to dry.

THEN! And nobody talks about this step for some reason and it's been the reason swatches lied to me in the past. Unpin it and let it rest. Different people give different time amounts for this resting. I'd let it rest at least three hours but some people recommend up to a week. The reason for this resting period is that many yarns, especially wool and other animal fibers, have elasticity to them. They'll rebound back a bit. Cotton and linen will have less rebound than things like wool. I'm not 100% sure where acrylic falls on that scale since I hate the texture of most acrylics.

OK I made and blocked the swatch and let it rest, what do I do now?

Now you measure! Does your stitches/rows ratio match up with the pattern designer's? Compare your gauge to the listed gauge. If it is different, you need to adjust needle/hook sizes. If your swatch is larger than the given measurements, your gauge is too loose and you need to go down one (or several) needle/hook sizes. If your swatch is smaller, your gauge is too tight and you need to go up one (or more) needle/hook sizes. At this point you can say "it's probably just one size up/down" and start your project, or you can repeat the entire swatch process. If unsure, repeat.

That's cool, can we see an example?

Sure! Here are two swatches I have pinned out.

I didn't follow my own advice about swatching and just started the Sapphira Lace Shawl on the recommended size 4 needles, but I got all the way through the first repeat of the body chart and then frogged the whole thing because my gauge was so loose you couldn't even see the pattern.

The Sapphira Lace Shawl has a separate pattern just for the gauge swatch and says "gauge is not important, swatch in lace pattern and use comfortable needle size to achieve airy lace that is not too holey." Too holey means that the stitches and yarn overs are so loose you cannot properly make out the pattern at all. That's what happened when I used size 4 needles.

The swatches you see here were knitted on size 2 (top) and 3 (bottom) needles. I knitted the bottom swatch first but was unsure if I liked the result so I went down another needle size and knitted a second swatch.

You'll notice the size 2 swatch is smaller and it's easier to make out the design. The stitches are smaller and denser, so the places where decreases and plain knit stitches are grouped together are easier to see. Versus the size 3 swatch where the stitches are looser and it's a bit harder to make out the design, though not impossible. On size four needled my stitches were so loose you couldn't really make out the design at all. With these swatches pinned out, I personally like the size 2 swatch better. However! That may change once I let the swatches rest for a while!

This yarn is an alpaca/silk mix. Alpaca is known for stretching out and not holding its shape. It's not ideal for lace. Silk is very good at holding its shape, but not very stretchy. I'm hoping together they make an okay yarn for lace because separately neither is my preference for lace. It was what I had on hand that was dyeable. Alpaca has some elasticity so it will spring back once I unpin it and let it rest. At that point, I may like the size 3 swatch better. I won't know until I get there.

I'll try to remember to post pictures of the rested swatches tomorrow to show if there's any difference. I might work up another swatch on size 4 needles to show what "too holey" looks like but that's more of a "how to knit lace" educational swatch than a "how to knit swatches" educational swatch so I might not bother.

That's it, that's the post. I'm sure my knitting mutuals will have comments and things to add so check the notes.

[onehundredelevven]

When you don't say "I love you" back

Ft. JJK Men

note: I'm so back but still on writer's block. Here's this anyway🩷🩷🩷

☆☆☆

Gojo Satoru

He pauses at the door, blinking behind his shades.

“I love you,” he says, sing-song, lips curled in that usual grin.

You smile, distracted, just saying “Mhm, bye!”

A dramatic gasp.

“MHM? That’s all I get? No ‘I love you too, my beautiful, all-powerful, most eligible man alive’?”

He turns back, leaning against the doorframe like a wounded theater actor.

“You don’t love me anymore? Is this it? Are we breaking up?”

You sigh, laughing. “You’ll be late, dumbass.”

He walks off backwards, arms spread. “Fine! But just know… I’ll cry on the plane.”

---

Geto Suguru

He’s halfway out the door when he says it, soft and sure. “Love you.”

You hum distractedly, checking your phone.

He watches you for a moment. “That’s it?”

You look up. “Hmm?”

He chuckles under his breath, walks back in, wraps his arms around you from behind.

“You’re lucky I’m patient,” he murmurs in your ear. “But don’t do that again.”

You feel the warning in his voice, the teasing weight behind it.

“I’ll kiss it out of you next time.”

---

Nanami Kento

He straightens his tie, briefcase in hand. “I love you.”

You nod. “Have a good day.”

He pauses.

Turns slowly.

“Did I forget to say something unclear?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He walks over, kisses your forehead, then leans in close.

“I said I love you,” he murmurs, deliberately. “And I expect a proper reply, darling.”

You bite your lip to hide a smile.

“…I love you too.”

He hums. “Thank you. Now I can leave in peace.”

---

Choso Kamo

He shyly mumbles, “I love you,” clutching his coat.

You wave. “Okay, be safe!”

He stops mid-step, visibly deflating.

Turns to you slowly, with a deeply betrayed look.

“…You forgot something.”

You stare blankly until he stammers, “You didn’t—you didn’t say it back.”

Your heart breaks a little.

When you finally say it, he looks so relieved it’s ridiculous.

“…Don’t scare me like that,” he mutters, hiding his face in his scarf.

---

Sukuna

He doesn’t say “I love you” often.

So when he does, and you don’t say it back?

He’s glaring, jaw tight. “Excuse me?”

You blink. “What?”

“I just risked emotional death and said those three stupid words, and you just—what, wave me off?”

You snort. “Wow, you’re sensitive.”

He growls, pins you to the wall. “Say it.”

You grin. “Make me.”

“…I’ll ruin your whole night if you don’t.”

(He definitely ruins it. Lovingly.)

---

Toji Fushiguro

“Love ya,” he says casually, keys in hand.

You yawn, curled on the couch. “Mm. Later.”

He stops. Stares at you.

“…You didn’t say it back.”

You peek open one eye. “So?”

He squints. “You tryna piss me off?”

Walks over, lifts your chin.

“Say it back, doll,” he drawls. “I don’t care if you’re half-asleep—I wanna hear it.”

You grin. “Fine. I love you.”

He kisses your forehead.

“Damn right.”

---

Itadori Yuuji

He says it brightly, all sunshine: “Love you!”

You wave. “Bye!”

He freezes, stares at the floor.

“…Wait.”

You turn. “Hmm?”

He slowly looks up, eyes wide like a kicked puppy.

“You didn’t say it back.”

Your heart melts instantly.

“Yuuji—”

“No no it’s fine,” he says, dramatically walking to the door. “I’ll just cry a little on the train. No big deal.”

You call out: “I love you too, idiot!”

He spins around beaming. “Awww!”

---

Fushiguro Megumi

He’s quiet about it. Just a mumbled, “Love you,” as he heads out.

You barely register it.

He pauses, looks back. “...Seriously?”

You blink up from your book. “What?”

“You didn’t say it back.”

Your brows rise. “I didn’t think you cared.”

He looks... mildly betrayed.

“I always care.”

You grin and call after him, “I love you too, Gumi.”

He tries to hide the smile tugging at his lips as he shuts the door, ears a little red.

[idleleaves]

New knitting (since I'm no longer a screaming ball of anxiety)! I'm improvising a sort of leaf-lace pattern on a scarf. Yarn is a blend of 50% wool and 50% Pima cotton—I've loved every MT yarn I've tried so far, and this one feels beautiful, too. Slightly less give due to the cotton, which can be hard on the hands, but the larger-than-recommended needle I'm using (I don't want the lace to be too dense) helps.

Probably the only progress pic I'll show, because lace knitting always looks like a pile of noodles before it's blocked.

[pomefioredove]

I'm not sure exactly which day counts as "weekend" bc of cultural differences lol but you can ignore this if it's not on the permitted day!!

But for the brief Rollo x reader thing that's you're doing, can I please have something with him and a reader that is generally very tactile? One day they grab his hand to pull him somewhere as they absentmindedly ramble, and they don't realize it until he speaks up about it (or not....? <w<)

hii anon!! ofc this is a very cute request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cold hands

type of post: short fic characters: rollo additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Winter in Fleur City is as unkind as it is beautiful.

Autumn's colorful embrace was short and sweet, giving you but three weeks of cozy, lukewarm mornings before the trees were bare and bending in the breeze that carried along the Soleil.

The first snow of the winter season had completely frozen over the river.

It had also kissed everything in frost, blanketed the streets, and canceled classes at Noble Bell College for the morning. It was heavy and restless.

It became no wonder to you that the people of Fleur City were eager to put up their tinsel and candles. The smell of cinnamon and pine is an effective distraction from the icy wind, after all.

And so, without classes to attend to, you find yourself walking through the city on crushed snow, already muddy with boot prints and animal hooves, to a seasonal cafe which had just opened.

Oh, and the Student Council President has offered to escort you.

It's, apparently, quite an ordeal; the few Noble Bell students you pass by in the streets stop mid-snowball fight or nearly drop their to-go coffees from their mittens when they see you, bundled up in Rollo Flamme's scarf, walking hand-in-hand.

You honestly hadn't even noticed you had grabbed him. It had been somewhat of an impulse, your cold, undressed hands feeling out for something to hold.

And usually, that would have been a quill, or one of those artisanal wooden blocks this city so loves, just something to run your thumb over while you think, not the Student Council President's hand.

But he doesn't say anything, and, more presently, doesn't pull away.

"You really ought to have dressed warmer," Rollo says, fussing over the scarf he'd given you off his own neck. "You'll catch something, and missing class over a frivolous venture such as is unacceptable."

"I suppose I didn't think of it,"

"Then next time," he says. "I don't know what I would do with myself if you were ill. It's the busiest time of year."

Right. Finals are coming up.

"I won't do it again,"

He sighs. "I know. Now, come along. Morning classes may have been dismissed, quite unnecessarily, I might say, but we'll both be expected on campus at noon,"

His hand tightens around yours, and his pace becomes brisker, cutting through the myriad of tourists and laughing children and pigeons. He shields you from the falling snow and blistering wind, holding you behind him until you reach the cafe.

It's bustling and loud inside, busier than the annual cafes you're used to visiting, but Rollo somehow has you in and out with a warm drink and a pastry in no more than five minutes.

You have the treat outside, your hands already cracked from the dry cold in the air, and once you've finished he slips his hand into yours and begins walking again.

There's not much conversation. Rollo is a strange man; some days, he's happy to talk about the history of Fleur City or what he's studying in Noble Bell's prestigious law class, and some days he's like this. Quiet.

His hand is surprisingly warm, though, despite the cold he seems to maintain a high body temperature all on his own. He runs a thumb over the back of your hand, feeling the dry skin there.

"You're freezing,"

"I'm okay,"

"Honesty is a virtue," he snaps, his sharp way of reminding you that he can always tell when you're lying, and he doesn't like it.

"You'll catch your death of cold. And then what would I do?"

For a fleeting moment, you can swear he gets a little warmer; or, at least, his hand does. You must be imagining things.

The silence lingers like the cold in the air, but, finally, he gets you to start talking about your favorite class subject, which you do until you've reached the gates of the school.

Rollo stops you, bids you an overly formal good-bye, and takes his hand, too, leaving you with the cold.

Hm. He seemed so off today. You wonder what that could be?

You won't realize that you'd been holding his hand all morning until later, but for now, you're content with the mystery and the warm scarf he left on your shoulders.

[ddorie]

heart locket.

anton lee x reader

. . . confronting your ex was the last thing you needed amid a cold winter.

genre : angst , ex au

warnings : heartbreak , no use of y/n

wc . . 1.1k

You wonder why you dragged yourself to the park at 3 AM to face your ex-boyfriend, but here you are, revisiting the wounds of your heart just by seeing him again.

The first thing you noticed seeing Anton for the first time in what feels like an eternity, was the silver necklace resting on his collarbone. The heart locket was hidden under his coat, but the intricate detailing of the chain could have you recognize it within a heartbeat.

It had been a year and four months since you two called it quits. You try your hardest to manipulate your mind to think it came to a mutual agreement, though it only aches your heart remembering how he took the initiative. After the breakup, Anton's whereabouts were nonexistent to you considering how he blocked you on everything and you were never close with his friends, so there was no way to find out how he was dealing with the breakup.

Only after several breakdowns and disassociations you went through at the expense of the breakup, you were slowly picking up the pieces of your heart. Anton wasn't occupying your thoughts anymore and you started going out with friends again. It’s safe to say you were happy again, thinking the same for the other party, but only way quicker on his side.

Well, the assumption of him moving on was soon to be proven false when you received a text from an unknown number, revealing it to be your ex, asking to meet.

A giant part of you wants to curse him out for breaking no contact to drag you outside in the cold. But another part of you hated the way you willingly let yourself obey his words.

Nevertheless, there he was right in front of you, dressed neatly in a black wool coat that complimented his tall figure which reminded you how much of a beauty he was.

You two were the only figures spotted in the park that was engulfed in darkness, the only sources of light being the dimly lighted broken street lamps and the illuminating bright moon. The bottom half of your face was buried under your big scarf to shield against the sharp breezes. You kept a safe distance from Anton because if you were any closer to him, you'd certainly let your guard down and take the opportunity just to cup his face once more. The necklace kept stealing your attention considering how intently you kept your eye on it.

The silence was finally broken when he said your name, his voice barely above a whisper. Hearing your name come out of his mouth in such a distant tone felt so foreign. "I'll just get straight to the point." He continued, "I regret every bit of it, I mean breaking up with you. I..I thought it was the right thing. My insecurities were eating me alive, and I kept thinking you deserve so, so much more than what I was offering. I know now that I was the biggest coward to do that," the smoke of his breaths was visible due to the cold while you kept listening. "I'm sorry for shutting out after the breakup and causing you pain."

You exhale a wobbly sigh, flashing him your glossy pair of eyes. Your eyes were already filled to the brim with tears and the sight broke him completely. “Anton…” He cut through your words and unknowingly took a step closer toward you, "I found myself going to every place we went, hoping to catch even a tiny glimpse of you, wishing that I could undo this mess." You just listened and listened, carefully taking in every word he said. Out of habit, Anton reached to the tiny necklace pendant of his for solace and you can’t help but crack a tiny sad smile.

You hadn’t realized how much the space between you two had closed and you swear you could catch snowflakes land on his eyelashes, dissolving within milliseconds. Seeing him this vulnerable made you want to take back all the hatred you had for him leaving.

"Your heart locket.” You finally acknowledge, and you notice his slow blinks in realization. He pursed his lips and undoes his clutch, revealing the silver heart-shaped pendant. He was taken aback that you called it out despite it being hidden under his coat.

He still recalls the day you gifted him it for his birthday early in the relationship. He'd proudly show not just you but everyone around him the small black-and-white photo of you smiling brightly. The necklace witnessed every moment of the relationship. From a full day of laughter on the beach, sharing the first kiss, and stargazing nights to petty quarrels, deafening yells, and a pool of tears during the final night of the relationship.

It was as if every memory he shared with you was captured in that tiny little pendant, and anytime it was open, everything would flood back up. He couldn't bring himself to take off the necklace because then it would mean losing you all over again and he couldn't bear to go through that the second time.

"This was all I had left of you." The locket was again closed in his fist and you could see his knuckles turning red from the biting cold. "I wish you knew that you were all I wanted," now it was your turn to speak, "I wish you knew that you were the only light through my darkest times and I didn't need anything else. So, yes, you sitting me down to say those three words hurt me an amount no words can summarize." You lock eyes with him, tiny apologies flooding in his dark orbs with a frown on his face.

Anton took another step closer, "Please..." he breathed your name once again, prompting you to shake your head, "Anton, no. It's been more than a year and I've moved on. I'm happy now." You say, though your words are unconvincing to him. “I swear I'll love you right this time if you just give me this chance." His soft-spoken voice became unsteady and a single tear ran down his cheek. Overtaken by emotions, Anton let his head wearily drop on your shoulder. You stood there frozen, contemplating what to do with your ex-boyfriend physically relying on your smaller build.

Your heart breaks for him and the least you could do was wrap your hands around his waist, hoping to console him with your touch. Getting carried away, your hand found its way to his hair gradually caressing his soft streaks. His muffled sobs accompanied you as you started to feel your wool coat getting damp.

Although it was truly tempting to drop everything and return to his love, you couldn't. For the sake of both of you, maybe locking up the memories in that heart locket will do nothing but good.

[thebunnednun]

"EAT YER SOUP!"

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting , Wc: Long like his truama+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: A snowball fight escalates into a dramatic battle for the icy throne between the, "Snow Empress," and the, "Demon King," of class 1a and ending with you becoming sick and Katsuki taking care of his sweet little Wife.

Tons of romantic flirting, promises of fun and sexy times awaits. Reader has a quirk.

Ya like Jane Austen? You'll love this.

Part 1 of 2.

It started as a perfectly normal winter day in Japan. 

The sky stretched in a crystal-clear blue, and sunlight sparkled against the untouched snow. Flakes glistened on branches like delicate diamonds, the world hushed in its frosted beauty. 

That kind of morning that invited peace.

A gentle hush blanketed the streets of Japan the night before, dusting the city with a sparkling white coat. The air was crisp, biting just enough to paint cheeks red and send puffs of visible breath floating upwards. 

It was the perfect snow day.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” 

Until it wasn’t.

“AAAAHHHH!” screamed Kaminari as he sprinted through the snow, his voice piercing the calm like an air raid siren. His arms flailed wildly, chunks of snow falling off his jacket from the barrage he’d just endured.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Katsuki roared behind him, hurling an impressively compact snowball with the same intensity he brought to his explosive attacks. The snowball rocketed through the air, narrowly missing Kaminari’s head and splattering against a tree, sending icy fragments flying.

“NAH UAH!” Kaminari retorted, ducking behind a bench and scrambling to build his own ammunition.

Nearby, Midoriya stood knee-deep in snow, earnestly explaining to Iida and Uraraka, “Cold hands are actually a sign that your body is conserving heat by prioritizing your core temperature. So technically—”

“OOF!” Midoriya’s lecture was cut off as a snowball, courtesy of a snickering Ashido, struck him square in the face.

“LESS TALK MORE SNOW!” she cackled, darting away before he could retaliate.

A chorus of laughter and shouting filled the park, blending with the crunch of boots on snow and the occasional thud of snowballs finding their targets.

On the far end of the park, Sero's voice carried faintly over the chaos as he leaned against a tree next to you. He tilted his head slightly and murmured, “Let it go~ Let it goooo~” with the faintest hint of a smirk, his breath forming little clouds as he sang.

"I think that's a slur."

You snorted, burying your face in your scarf to muffle your laughter. Shoto's deadpan humor was one of your favorite things about him, and it was especially hilarious when contrasted against the madness unfolding below.

“Can I eat this?” Kirishima’s voice rang out as he held up what looked like a vaguely yellowish chunk of snow.

“DID YOU KNOW THAT THE ICICLES ON THE ROOF ARE ACTUALLY BIRD SHIT?” Danki yelled, pointing upward at a row of sparkling icicles hanging off a pavilion roof.

“Can we please go inside yet?” Jirou groaned from where she was crouched under the monkey bars, hugging her knees and shivering. Momo, who was hanging upside down, quickly dropped down and pulled the other girl into her large scarf before snuggling into her arms. 

“IMA MAKE A SNOWMAN!” Toru cheered, already gathering snow with surprising precision for someone who was completely invisible.

“DO A FLIP!” someone (C0ough Ojiro) shouted as Kaminari attempted to leap off a swing mid-arc. He landed in a heap, sending snow flying everywhere, but popped back up grinning like a maniac.

“Lemme see what you have?”

“AN ICE BALL!” Shoji declared, holding up what was essentially a solid block of ice.

“NO!” came multiple voices in unison as everyone collectively backed away from the six-armed giant.

The graduated class of 1-A, with the addition of Shinsou, had descended upon the local park after a public conference. It was supposed to be a quick reprieve—a moment to unwind after the formalities of hero work. Instead, it had turned into a full-blown festival of youthful chaos.

Even though you were technically pro heroes now, snow days were snow days. All your training, responsibilities, and public personas had been left behind at the press conference you’d attended earlier. 

Now, the entirety of Freedom Park was taken over and transformed into your personal winter wonderland.

From your hiding place on a small hill overlooking the park, you could see it all. Beside you, Shoto stands with his usual stoic expression, though his lips twitch slightly at the edges—a telltale sign he was enjoying himself more than he let on. His arms were crossed, and a small puff of steam rose from his cup of hot tea.

Your husband, however, was not enjoying a quiet moment. 

He was right in the thick of it. 

Katsuki had declared the snowball fight a competition, and chaos erupted the second the words left his mouth. He was now locked in a fierce battle with Kirishima and Kaminari, his explosions muted by the snow but still sending white powder flying in every direction.

“Think they’ll make it out alive?” you mused, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Unlikely,” Shoto replied dryly, taking a sip from his cup.

Katsuki was in full-on “competitive mode,” hurling snowballs with pinpoint accuracy and barking at anyone who dared challenge him. Midoriya, recovering from Ashido’s sneak attack, was now carefully constructing a snow fort with Iida and Uraraka, his freckled face glowing with determination.

Jirou and Momo had teamed up to create a meticulously designed igloo, complete with a functional entrance, while Dark Shadow—unsurprisingly—kept trying to sneak inside and was promptly shoved out each time by a disgruntled Tokoyami.

Down below, Toru and Ojiro had joined forces to create what looked like an impenetrable igloo wall, complete with a moat of shoveled snow. Tsu and Ochako were working together to stockpile snowballs inside, while Shinsou lazily leaned against the structure, occasionally lobbing snowballs with eerily good accuracy.

On the playground, Sero had finally managed to climb the slide and was now using his tape to lasso snowballs midair and fling them back toward their throwers. Mina retaliated by sliding down the other side, a trail of snow cascading behind her.

"Do you think we should join them?" you asked Shoto, brushing stray snow from your gloves.

"I’m perfectly content here," he replied, though his gaze lingered on the group with something that almost resembled longing.

“Come on, Sho,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “Where’s your sense of fun?”

He glanced at you, his mismatched eyes softening. “I think I left it down there.”

You laughed, the sound bright against the winter air. Below, Katsuki let out a triumphant roar as he finally tackled Kaminari into a snowdrift, only for Kirishima to leap on him a second later. The three dissolved into a pile of wrestling, laughing chaos.

“Alright,” you said, standing and brushing snow from your coat. “If you won’t come willingly, I guess I’ll just have to drag you into it.” Before Shoto could protest, you grabbed a handful of snow and flung it at him, hitting him square in the chest. He blinked in surprise, his tea sloshing slightly in its cup.

“Really?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Really,” you replied, already gathering another snowball.

With a flick of his wrist, Shoto melted the snow in your hand before it could leave your palm.

“Cheater!”

“You started it,” he said, setting his cup down and rolling up his sleeves.

Then, a soft crunch of snow behind you drew your attention. Turning your head, you saw three familiar figures trudging up the slope, snow clinging to their boots and the hems of their coats.

Sato, Aoyama, and Koda approached cautiously, their eyes darting to the chaos below as if they feared an ambush. Aoyama had a dramatic pout, and Koda’s wide-eyed expression screamed relief at finding refuge. Sato, meanwhile, was carrying what looked like a small stash of baked goods wrapped in foil.

“Is it safe here?” Aoyama asked dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if the mere trek had been a perilous journey. You straightened up and waved your hands in an exaggerated gesture of benevolence. 

“I grant you sanctuary! You are safe here, under my protection.”

The three of them paused, exchanged looks, and then simultaneously bowed low, their motions filled with mock reverence. Shoto was back to cradling his cup of tea, steam curling upward as he quietly enjoyed the relative peace of your hiding spot. You, on the other hand, had your elbows resting on your knees, watching the battlefield with an amused grin as if it were the most entertaining show you'd ever seen.

“Thank you, our good queen, for granting us shelter in your realm,” Sato intoned, his voice deep and formal. “It is an honor to bask in your light,” Aoyama added, his usual sparkle exaggerated as he tossed imaginary stardust. Koda, always soft-spoken, simply bowed and nodded in agreement.

Beside you, Shoto muttered under his breath, “You’re lucky they indulge this,” as he raised his teacup again.Ignoring him, you turned back to the newcomers, gesturing for them to sit in the snowy clearing near you. 

“How fares the battlefield below, my loyal subjects?”

Aoyama huffed dramatically, brushing non-existent dirt from his coat. “Your husband, the Demon King Bakugou, is terrorizing the realm with his fiery wrath.” Sato chuckled and added, “He’s like a one-man army down there. Izuku’s holed up in the fort with everyone, trying to rally the troops into some kind of defense strategy with Momo.”

Koda nodded shyly. “It’s… chaotic. But Midoryia is trying his best.” Before you could respond, a new voice called out from behind.

“Is this the neutral party gathering place?”

Turning, you saw Iida climbing the hill, his hands chopping the air in his usual commanding way. His scarf flapped in the breeze, giving him an almost heroic silhouette against the snowy horizon.

“Yes, it is,” you replied with a playful flourish, gesturing to the group now gathered in your little haven.

Iida seemed pleased with the answer, nodding briskly before sitting down next to Sato, who offered him a pastry.

“We’ve got quite the party now,” Sato said, counting the group. “A priest,” he gestured to Iida, “a prince,” he motioned toward Shoto, who raised an eyebrow, “a pied piper,” he nodded at Koda, who blushed, “and of course, our queen.”

“And I’m more than happy to have a knight,” you said, pointing to Aoyama, who struck a dazzling pose, “and a baker’s man,” you finished with a grin toward Sato.

The group chuckled, settling into the cozy camaraderie of your impromptu sanctuary.

From the hill, you all looked down to see Bakugou standing alone in the center of the snowy battlefield. His scarf whipped behind him as he shouted at the rest of the class, who were safely ensconced in their snow-igloo “castle” that was once the playground.

“YOU COWARDS! I DON’T NEED HELP TO TAKE YOU SHIT HEADS DOWN!”

Kirishima stood a few feet behind him, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling nervously as he watched his best friend fume.

On the battlements of the “castle,” Izuku stood high, with Sero and Kaminari holding him up on their shoulders. His hands were cupped around his mouth as he called out, 

“Kacchan, you don’t have to do this! We can resolve this peacefully!”

“SHUT UP, IZUKU! I’M NOT NEGOTIATING WITH SNOWBALL-BUILDING WEAKLINGS!”

The entire group inside the fort shouted back at him, jeering and pelting snowballs from their windows.

Kirishima, glancing nervously between Katsuki and the fort, caught sight of you on the hill. He gave a small wave, his breath visible in the cold air. You returned the wave with an exaggerated beckoning motion, grinning as he hesitated, looking over his shoulder at Katsuki, who was now too focused on his ranting to notice.

Slowly, Kirishima began backing away, one step at a time, until he turned and jogged toward the wooded edge of the park. It took a minute, but eventually, he emerged through the trees and into your clearing. His face was flushed from the cold, his red hair dusted with snow.

“Welcome, gentle giant,” you said with a grin, spreading your arms in greeting.

Kirishima blinked, confused. “Gentle huh?”

“They’ve been speaking in medieval this whole time,” Shoto clarified, sipping his tea.

“Oh, got it,” Kirishima said, nodding along. Then, getting into the spirit of things, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Snow Empress, I have come to petition you. Please, you must put a stop to the war and end the tyranny of your Demon King husband!”

The group erupted into laughter, and you gave an exaggerated sigh, waving a hand over the battlefield below. “Rise, noble knight. Let us discuss how best to restore peace to this snowy realm.”

You leaned forward, your eyes flickering toward the tree line as a faint rustling sound reached your ears. The soft crunch of snow was almost inaudible against the backdrop of distant laughter and shouting, but your instincts told you someone was approaching. Squinting, you caught a glimpse of dark hair and a familiar, lanky frame blending into the shadows of a nearby tree.

“Shinsou,” you murmured, just loud enough for Shoto to catch.

He followed your gaze, his calm demeanor unchanging as he stood. Without a word, he picked up Sato’s hand and pressed the warm cup into it before standing. The shift in his posture was subtle but deliberate, his usually casual stance now sharp and ready. With a smooth motion, he conjured a spear of glimmering, jagged ice in his hand. It shimmered in the weak sunlight, its edges dangerously sharp.

Shoto leveled the spear toward the tree, his voice carrying the weight of playful authority. 

“Speak now, you unfaithful spy. Be ye friend or foe?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Shinsou stepped out from behind the tree with his hands raised in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Friend, obviously,” he drawled, his tone as dry as the winter air.

“Prove it,” Shoto demanded, his voice still even but with an edge of humor.

Shinsou rolled his eyes, stepping closer to the group. “What do you want me to do? Pledge my undying loyalty to the Snow Empress and her ragtag court?”

“That would be a start,” you chimed in, leaning back on your hands with a wide grin.

Shinsou sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he came to stand in front of you. 

“Fine. Your Majesty,” he said with exaggerated sarcasm, dropping into an over-the-top bow. “I, your humble servant, humbly request refuge in your domain. I swear my allegiance, provided I’m not dragged into whatever insanity your husband is stirring up down there.”

The group burst into laughter, Shoto letting his ice spear dissipate into harmless mist.

“Accepted,” you declared, clapping your hands together. “Welcome to the court, Sir Shinsou.”

Kirishima grinned, clapping Shinsou on the shoulder. “Glad to have you, man. We’re building quite the crew up here.”

Shinsou smirked, crossing his arms as he glanced around the group. “I see that. You’ve got the whole medieval RPG party vibe going on. Who’s who?”

Iida adjusted his scarf, sitting up straighter. “I am the priest, of course.”

“And I’m the prince,” Shoto added flatly, picking his teacup back up from Sato’s hands.

“I’m the baker,” Sato said, holding up his stash of pastries as proof.

“A knight,” Aoyama declared with a dazzling pose.

“And I’m the gentle giant,” Kirishima said with a laugh, flexing one arm for emphasis.

Koda, ever the quiet one, raised a hand sheepishly. “Pied Piper,” he said softly.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “And you?” he asked, nodding at you.

You sat up straighter, lifting an imaginary crown from your head and adjusting it with exaggerated elegance. “I, of course, am the Snow Empress. Ruler of this humble hill and keeper of peace… unless my husband starts throwing snow grenades again.”

The group chuckled, but Shinsou tilted his head, squinting down at the chaos below. Bakugou was still yelling, now aggressively chucking snowballs at the castle fort while Izuku continued shouting at him from the top.

“Speaking of him,” Shinsou muttered, “Should we be worried about whatever he’s planning? Because he looks like he’s about to storm the gates.”

Everyone turned to look, and sure enough, Bakugou was gathering what could only be described as a truly absurd number of snowballs into a pile. His face was alight with pure determination, Kirishima’s absence completely unnoticed as he muttered something under his breath.

“Oh no,” you said with a laugh, resting your chin on your hands. “That’s the face he makes when he’s about to go all out.”

“Should we intervene?” Kirishima asked, scratching the back of his neck.

Shoto sipped his tea, completely unbothered. “Why bother? This is clearly a battle he’s destined to lose. Let him tire himself out.”

Shinsou snorted. “You’re a great wife, Todoroki. Truly.”

“Thank you,” Shoto deadpanned, raising his cup slightly in acknowledgment.

The group laughed again, the tension breaking as the scene below unfolded in increasingly ridiculous fashion.

As the chaos raged on below, you watched from the hilltop, shaking your head in amusement. The snow was littered with fallen comrades—friends lying dramatically in the snow, groaning in mock agony after being taken out by Katsuki’s relentless barrage of snowballs. Only Momo and Izuku remained standing.

Momo stood near the castle fort, her shield gleaming with a fresh layer of ice as she crouched behind it. Beside her, two makeshift snowball launchers she had crafted were firing at irregular intervals, their mechanisms clicking rhythmically as they pelted Katsuki with precision shots.

Izuku, on the other hand, was darting around like a green blur, popping out from snowbanks and behind trees to lob snowballs at Bakugou, whose maniacal laughter echoed across the park. Katsuki was clearly in his element, his scarf trailing behind him like a warrior’s cape as he dodged and countered every attack.

“He’s… actually enjoying this,” Shinsou remarked, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Of course, he is,” you sighed. “This is practically a sport to him.”

“Should we go down there and stop him before he actually hurts someone?” Kirishima asked, glancing nervously at the fort.

“Yes,” came the unanimous response from your little group.

You groaned, standing up and brushing snow off your coat. “Fine. Do me the honor of escorting me, would you?”

Shoto smirked faintly, already summoning a fresh array of glistening ice spears for the group. The sharp tips caught the light as he handed them out one by one. “Try not to poke yourselves,” he said dryly, tucking one under his arm before offering you his free hand.

You took it, looping your arm through his as if this was some kind of formal procession. Shinsou bowed mockingly in front of you, one hand sweeping across his chest in an exaggerated gesture.

“Allow me to go ahead, Your Majesty,” he said with a smirk. “As your loyal valet, of course.”

“Of course,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

And so, with your odd little court in tow, you began your descent down the hill. The snow crunched beneath your boots as your group trudged down the slope, trying their best to maintain some semblance of dignity while navigating the uneven terrain. It was difficult not to laugh at the sight of everyone’s exaggerated steps, their knees and hips moving far too much in their attempt not to slip.

“Make way, make way!” Sato bellowed, his voice booming as if he were announcing royalty.

You suppressed a laugh, glancing at Shinsou. “Do your job, or you’ll meet the business end of Shoto’s spear,” you teased.

Shinsou smirked and straightened his posture, raising his voice as he called out, 

“Behold! The Snow Empress has arrived to grant mercy and bring peace to the lands!”

The battlefield froze—literally and figuratively. Katsuki paused mid-throw, his arm cocked back with a snowball the size of a melon in his hand. Izuku stumbled out from behind a tree, his breath coming in puffs of steam as he blinked in confusion. Even Momo peeked out from behind her shield, her brow furrowing as she tried to process what was happening.

“THE EMPRESS!” 

Mina suddenly dropped to her knees in the snow, throwing her hands up dramatically. 

“All hail the Snow Empress!”

Denki immediately followed suit, kneeling beside her and clasping his hands together as if in prayer. “Long live the Empress!” he shouted, his voice filled with mock reverence. The two scrambled to get behind you, their voices overlapping as they began to sing your praises. 

“So wise! So powerful! So benevolent!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep a straight face. The theatrics were absurd, but there was a certain charm to it all.

Before you could respond, you felt a tug on your arm. Turning, you saw Toru standing beside you, her usually invisible form now outlined by a layer of snow clinging to her jacket and pants. Her hands, however, were bare, and you noticed her fingers were an alarming ice cold.

Without hesitation, you slid off your gloves and gently pulled them onto her hands. “Here,” you said softly, tugging the cuffs to make sure they fit snugly. “Keep these on.”

“Thanks,” Toru murmured, her voice grateful as she flexed her fingers inside the gloves.

Behind you, Sero muttered something under his breath in Spanish, his tone exasperated. “Coño, esto es ridículo,” he said, shaking his head as he trudged through the snow to join the growing group behind you. Shinsou, undeterred by the growing absurdity of the situation, continued his proclamation. 

“The Snow Empress has arrived to bestow mercy upon you all! Bow before her, lest you face her icy wrath!”

The battlefield fell silent once more, all eyes turning to you. Katsuki’s face was a picture of disbelief, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at the spectacle. Izuku, still catching his breath, looked like he was torn between laughing and taking the situation seriously.

“What the hell is this?!” Katsuki finally exploded, his voice echoing across the park. “You’ve gotta be shitting me!”

Shoto leaned in close, his voice low and amused. “Your move, Empress.”

You straighten your posture, tilting your chin up as you surveyed the battlefield. “Enough,” you called out, your voice carrying over the snow. “This war has gone on long enough. Lay down your snowballs and return to your forts. Peace shall reign across these lands once more.”

Mina and Denki immediately burst into cheers, clapping and shouting in agreement. The rest of the class, however, seemed less convinced, their eyes darting between you and Katsuki.

“Like hell I’m stopping!” Katsuki roared, hurling his massive snowball straight into the sky. “This ain’t over until I say it’s over!”

The snowball came crashing down—right onto Katsuki’s own head, exploding in a puff of powder. The entire park erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across your face.

“Well,” you said, turning to Shoto. “I guess that settles it.”

Shinsou smirked, “Peace restored, Empress.”

Another snowball came flying through the air in a graceful arc, landing squarely on Katsuki’s head and bursting into a puff of icy powder. The battlefield went quiet for a moment, stunned, before laughter erupted from all sides—except for Katsuki.

His head snapped toward Momo, whose snowball launchers were still smoking from their recent assault. Her chin was lifted, her expression regal and utterly unapologetic. 

“For disrespecting my Empress,” she declared, stepping forward with the grace of a knight sworn to protect her queen.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“You’re dead, Ponytail.”

Before anyone could blink, Katsuki lunged forward, snatching Shinsou up by the scarf like a sack of potatoes. The poor boy let out a choked gasp, flailing slightly as Katsuki dragged him upward.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Izuku shouted, darting forward with surprising speed. He grabbed Shinsou by the arm and yanked him back with all his might, prying him out of Katsuki’s grip. 

“What the hell, Deku?!” Katsuki snarled, spinning around to face him.

Izuku held Shinsou protectively behind him, his freckled face scrunched in determination. “You can’t just attack people! We’re supposed to be having fun!”

“Fun?! This is fun!” Katsuki bellowed, gesturing wildly to the chaos around them.

Meanwhile, you strolled down the hill with all the grace of royalty, Shoto still at your side with his ice spear glinting in the sunlight. “Lady Yaoyorozu,” you greeted warmly, inclining your head toward Momo as if the chaos around you didn’t exist. Momo turned to you, lowering herself into an elegant curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she replied, her voice laced with pride.

Katsuki froze mid-rant, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward you and your entourage. His gaze darted between your serene expression, Shoto’s protective stance, and the full squad of Class 1-A members following in your wake. His lip curled into a sneer.

“What the hell are you all doing?” he demanded.

You tilted your head, offering him a faint, knowing smile. 

“Hello, Consort.”

The title clearly caught him off guard. Katsuki blinked, his mouth opening as if to respond, but no words came out. You didn’t give him the chance to recover, turning your attention back to Momo.

“Lady Yaoyorozu,” you said again, your tone warm but firm. “What troubles you so? Is it this unruly rogue disturbing the peace of our lands?” Katsuki’s eyes widened slightly, and he pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“Oi! Are you ignoring me?!”

You didn’t even glance his way, your focus remaining solely on Momo. Behind you, Shoto leaned closer to Shinsou and Izuku, his voice low. “She’s decided she’s the Snow Empress,” he explained matter-of-factly.

Shinsou shrugged. “It just sort of… happened,” he added, his smirk growing wider.

Izuku blinked a few times, taking in the scene—the exaggerated bows, the medieval speech, the mock battle—and nodded with a small smile. “Got it,” he said simply, falling seamlessly into the act.

Just then, Kirishima emerged from behind a snowbank, jogging up to your group and skidding to a stop in front of you. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head deeply. “My Snow Empress,” he said dramatically, his voice tinged with desperation. “I cannot bear the cruel treatment of my master any longer. May I reside with you permanently instead?”

The rest of the class burst into laughter at his declaration, but Kirishima held his bow, waiting for your response.

“What the hell, Shitty Hair?!” Katsuki barked, his confusion and irritation growing by the second.

You raised a hand, gesturing for Kirishima to rise. “Gentle giant, you are always welcome in my court,” you said graciously, earning a grin and a playful wink from him.

Katsuki threw his hands in the air. “Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?!”

You turned to him at last, your expression calm but commanding. “We are here to grant peace to these lands,” you said, your tone firm, “Or to destroy you, should you refuse to fall in line.”

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the sound of snow crunching under Katsuki’s boots as he took a step forward. His lips twitched into a smirk. 

“Destroy me, huh?”

Katsuki tilted his head slightly, adopting a mockingly regal posture. “A queen,” he began, his voice suddenly shifting into Shakespearean tones, “Surrounding herself with such… characters of the court?” 

“Tch. How distasteful.”

Behind you, Denki leaned over to Mina, whispering, “Yo, who knew he’d be this good at this?”

“I know right?!”

You tugged Shoto and Shinsou closer, gesturing to them each in turn. “This is my assassin,” you said, nodding toward Shinsou, who grinned wickedly. “And this is the crown prince.”

Shoto gave a subtle nod, his expression cool and composed.

“And I,” Momo interjected, stepping forward proudly, “am the Countess, as well as your Empress’s blacksmith and weaponsmith.”

Katsuki snorted, crossing his arms. “Oh, so everyone’s got a role now, huh? Doesn’t matter.”

Without warning, he hurled a snowball at you. It soared through the air, fast and sharp—but it never reached its target. Shoto moved before you could react, a wave of heat rolling off him as he melted the snowball mid-flight, leaving nothing but a puff of steam in its place. You sighed, your expression hardening as you took a step forward. 

“Everyone,” you said calmly, your voice steady but firm, 

“Back up.”

Your entourage obeyed immediately, retreating to a safe distance. Only Katsuki remained, his fiery gaze locked onto yours.

“Now then,” you said, leveling him with a cool, unwavering stare. 

“Let’s settle this, shall we?”

The icy chill of the battlefield buzzed with anticipation as the royal drama unfolded. Iida, ever the voice of reason and order, stepped forward with Shoji at his side. Both carried an air of solemnity as they began organizing the chaotic mass of Class 1-A into spectators. Iida raised his hands dramatically, gesturing toward the abandoned benches and bleachers that bordered the snowy grounds.

“Citizens of this most noble kingdom!” Iida declared, his voice booming with authority. 

“Make haste to the arena’s viewing galleries, where you shall bear witness to history in the making. For this day shall determine the fate of the lands!”

Shoji nodded in agreement, his multiple arms gently guiding classmates toward their seats. As the crowd shuffled toward the bleachers, Sato emerged like an unexpected hero, carrying bags of freshly baked goods wrapped in foil. He moved through the gathered students like a medieval vendor at a festival, handing out warm treats to the eager onlookers.

“Bread for the people!” Kaminari called out gleefully, munching on a cookie.

“Enough sugar, Kami,” Jirou quipped, nudging him with her elbow. “You’ll get too hyper and end up in the lake again.”

The class settled in with murmurs of excitement, laughter, and nervous whispers about what was to come. Meanwhile, you stood proudly at the edge of the field, the snow crunching lightly under your light pink juicy couture snow boots as you surveyed the scene with the regal air of a ruler. Shoto and Shinsou flanked you on either side, their faces composed and determined, while Momo and Izuku stood a step behind you, ready to act as reinforcements.

Katsuki was a stark contrast, prowling like a tiger among his chosen knights. He yanked Kirishima forward, the red-haired boy wearing a theatrical expression of sorrow and betrayal.

“My Empress!” Kirishima called out mournfully, dropping to his knees as Katsuki tugged at the back of his scarf like a leash. “Forgive me, for I must serve this tyrant!”

You gave Kirishima a soft, reassuring smile. “Fear not, my gentle knight,” you said with unwavering confidence. “I shall free you from his chains.”

Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes but clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all. “Shut up, Shit locks,” he barked, dragging Kirishima backward like a misbehaving dog.

To everyone’s surprise, Katsuki then turned and gestured for Tokoyami to join his ranks. The brooding bird-like student strode forward, his cape billowing behind him as if he were summoned by some ancient force.

“Darkness always sides with the Demon King,” Tokoyami intoned ominously, taking his place beside Katsuki.

“Bro, he probably just wants dark shadow!”

“SHH, let him have this!”

“And glitter too, apparently,” Jirou whispered as Aoyama sauntered forward next, blowing a dramatic kiss to the crowd. Mina followed closely behind, her usual bubbly energy subdued as she adopted a determined, warrior-like posture. Katsuki pulled his team into a tight huddle, whispering strategies with a ferocity that only he could muster. His hands moved animatedly, pointing to you and your entourage as he outlined his battle plan.

“Do you think he’s plotting something crazy?” Shinsou asked, raising a brow.

“Probably,” Izuku muttered, his green eyes narrowing in thought. “But we’ll be ready.”

You turned to face your team, gathering them into a huddle of your own. Momo adjusted the strap of her snowball launcher, Shoto stood tall with his ice spear at the ready, and Shinsou smirked as if the whole thing was a game he was destined to win. In his hands two very sharp ice daggers twirled between his fingers. 

“They’re formidable,” Shoto said, his tone even. “Are you confident we can win?”

You straightened your posture, meeting their gazes with unshakable resolve. “Of course. Katsuki may be my legal husband outside of this game, and within these snowy lands, he’s just another challenger. I have never backed down from a challenge.”

Momo smiled at your conviction, nodding firmly. “We’re with you, your Majesty.”

Before anyone could speak further, Iida’s commanding voice called your attention. He stood at the center of the field with Shoji, their figures outlined against the stark white snow.

“Attention, noble combatants!” Iida announced, his arms raised high. 

“The terms of this duel have been decided. There shall be three rounds: The initial fight between the seconds of the royal couple, an all-out brawl lasting five minutes, and then a three-minute duel between any remaining champions. Finally, the Demon King and the Heavenly Snow Empress shall face one another to decide the future of the kingdom of freedom!”

A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at the title Iida had bestowed upon you. Raising your hands to the spectators, you addressed them with a voice that carried authority and warmth. 

“My loyal subjects, do not fear. I have never failed you before, and I shall not start now. Today, we shall emerge victorious, and peace shall reign across these lands once more!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, though Katsuki’s sharp laugh cut through the noise like a blade. He stepped forward, his expression both mocking and strangely alluring as he spoke in flawless Shakespearean tones.

“A queen so bold, yet so blind to the strength of her adversary,” he said, his voice low and resonant. 

“Know this, my sweet Empress—thy reign shall end beneath my hand, and these lands shall bow to me.”

Your breath hitched for the briefest moment, not because of his words, but because of how dangerously captivating his voice sounded when laced with such romantic intensity. Yards away, someone let out a low whistle. 

“Get your lady back Bakugou!”

“Kaminari!” 

“What?! He’s like, roguishly charming!”

Iida stepped between you and Katsuki, raising his hands for silence. 

“Before this battle begins, let us seek absolution for our sins,” he said solemnly, scooping up powdered snow and tossing it over both parties like ceremonial dust. Shoji then folded his hands together in prayer. 

“May the heavens forgive ye for the carnage that is to come, and may the gates of paradise open should any noble soul perish this day.”

You dipped your head respectfully, bowing to him. “Thank you, kind Sir’s.”

Turning back to Katsuki, you met his fierce gaze with a calm, regal smile. “This is your final chance to surrender,” you said, your tone measured.

Katsuki smirked, a flicker of something polite—almost gentlemanly—crossing his features before his fiery resolve returned. 

“Not a chance, Empress.”

You shrugged with the elegance befitting your title, swishing your cape as you returned to your huddle. 

“Very well,” you said. “Let us give them a show they shall never forget.”

The air between the snowy battlefield and the bleachers seemed to grow colder as the first round of the duel began to take shape. You stood at the edge of your small gathering, Shinsou at your right, Momo adjusting her gloves, and Izuku scanning Katsuki's team like he was already calculating every possible move they could make.

You gestured to Shoto with a graceful wave of your hand, summoning him forward. "Shoto, you are my champion for this duel."

Shoto inclined his head, his expression stoic yet calm. "Understood."

Katsuki’s team shifted in the snow, and you expected Kirishima to step forward with his usual gusto. But instead, Katsuki raised a hand, silencing his team as he nodded toward Tokoyami.

The dark feathered avian boy emerged from the group with a theatrical flourish of his cape, his crimson eyes gleaming beneath his shadowed cowl. "The Demon King has chosen me as his sword for this battle," Tokoyami intoned, his voice deep and resonant.

You raised a brow in mild surprise, glancing back at Shinsou. He leaned toward you, his voice low and steady. "Want me to pull him out early? It’d be easy enough to get him to surrender with one word."

You shook your head, a small smile curling at your lips. "No, let Shoto handle this. He’s more than capable."

Though you were confident, you still decided to walk Shoto to the field. His calm presence beside you was a comfort, and you felt the eyes of everyone watching as the two of you descended the short incline to the center of the battlefield. The snow crunched lightly beneath your boots, and Shoto adjusted his spear as he awaited the start of the duel.

As you reached the middle, you turned your attention to Tokoyami. 

"A good morrow to you, noble knight," you greeted him warmly, your tone light yet regal.

Tokoyami dipped his head in acknowledgment, but before he could respond, Dark Shadow peeked out from beneath his cape, chirping an enthusiastic, "Good morning!"

You smiled softly, pulling the white muff from your hands and extending it toward them. "For you," you said, your voice gentle. "The winds are bitter today, and even the bravest shadows deserve warmth."

Tokoyami’s eyes widened slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He hesitated for a moment before accepting the muff with a small bow of his head. "You honor me, Your Grace," he murmured, his tone more reverent than usual.

Dark Shadow chirped again, clutching the muff with his tiny claws. "Thank you, Empress! So soft!"

You waved to the little shadow with a soft laugh, but the moment was interrupted by Katsuki’s loud, impatient snarl from the sidelines.

"Get on with it already!" he barked, his fiery glare fixed on you like a wolf eyeing its prey.

You turned your head slightly, meeting Katsuki’s scowl with a serene, knowing smile. Then, without a word, you turned back to Shoto and adjusted the scarf around his neck. Your fingers lingered for a moment, ensuring it was snug enough to block out the cold.

"Be careful," you murmured, your voice quiet enough that only he could hear.

Shoto’s mismatched eyes softened as he met your gaze. 

"I shall. I will always return home to you, my Empress."

Your heart gave a small flutter at the sincerity in his voice. You placed your hands on his shoulders for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Then go," you said softly. 

"And make me proud."

Shoto gave a small nod, his expression composed as he stepped forward to take his place on the field. He glanced back at you once, bowing his head in respect, before focusing his attention entirely on Tokoyami.

The snowy winds picked up slightly, carrying with them the faint murmur of the crowd. The atmosphere was electric, the tension palpable as the two combatants squared off, awaiting Iida’s signal to begin.

You stepped back to your side of the battlefield, your eyes never leaving Shoto as he readied himself for the duel. Katsuki’s snarling and Tokoyami’s calm resolve couldn’t shake your confidence in him.

From the bleachers, Kaminari’s voice rang out, breaking the tension for just a moment. "Man, this is better than any reality show I’ve ever watched!" "Shh!" Ochako hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.

Iida raised his hand high, the signal for silence. 

"Champions of the court, prepare yourselves! May this duel be fought with honor and skill!"

The field fell silent as the match was about to begin. You clasped your hands together in front of you, your breath steady as you watched Shoto take his first step forward. The duel was about to begin, and the stakes had never felt higher.

The tension crackled like static as Shoto and Tokoyami squared off, the snowy expanse their battlefield. Shoto stepped forward, his ice trailing in sleek streaks beneath his boots, his breath visible in the biting air. Tokoyami's cape billowed behind him, and Dark Shadow hovered at his shoulder, glowing faintly with excitement.

Shoto opened with a swift strike, slamming his right hand to the ground as an intricate wave of jagged ice spread like wildfire. The ice surged toward Tokoyami, who leaped into the air, Dark Shadow carrying him higher before darting down with a spiraling lunge. Shoto sidestepped just in time, his expression calm, and retaliated by summoning a narrow pillar of ice, forcing Tokoyami to twist midair to avoid the collision.

"You’ve gotten faster," Shoto said, his tone measured as he straightened and swept a hand through his bangs.

"And you've grown more ruthless," Tokoyami countered, a faint smirk tugging at his beak.

They clashed again, Shoto releasing precise bursts of fire to counter Dark Shadow's quick strikes. The battlefield was a swirl of elements, ice shards glittering in the air as flames danced in vibrant contrast. Dark Shadow maneuvered expertly, keeping Shoto on the defensive, while Tokoyami stayed grounded, orchestrating each move like a seasoned tactician.

But then, the sky shifted.

Dark clouds rolled in without warning, blotting out the pale sun. The light dimmed until the snow-covered ground seemed to glow faintly beneath the oppressive grey. A chilling wind swept through, and the first clap of thunder rumbled low and ominous.

Your face blanched.

From across the field, Katsuki stood with his arms crossed, an all-too-familiar wicked grin stretched across his face. He lifted a hand and gave you a slow, mocking wave, his ruby eyes gleaming with unspoken mischief.

"He's up to something," Shinsou muttered behind you, his gaze narrowing on Katsuki.

"Always," Momo replied, her tone clipped.

On the field, Dark Shadow’s power seemed to swell under the shrouded sky. His form expanded, his strikes faster and heavier, and Tokoyami's confidence grew visibly as the battlefield became his domain. Shoto struggled to keep up, his ice slowing under the relentless onslaught.

You shouted from the sidelines, "Shoto, fall back! Reset!"

But it was too late.

As Shoto stepped back to reposition himself, his foot slipped on a patch of black ice—slick and near invisible against the snow. His eyes widened in alarm as his balance wavered, and before he could recover, Dark Shadow struck. A sweeping blow knocked Shoto clean off his feet, sending him sprawling onto his back with a sharp thud.

The field went still for a moment, and then the collective gasp of the crowd broke the silence.

Iida stepped forward, raising his arm. 

"The first point goes to the Demon King, Bakugou!"

Cries and murmurs erupted from the crowd as you and Izuku rushed onto the field. Tokoyami extended a hand to Shoto, helping him to his feet with a small bow.

"Thank you for the honorable match," Tokoyami said solemnly.

Shoto dipped his head in return, brushing snow off his side. "And you as well."

You reached Shoto’s side, your hands instinctively going to his left arm as Izuku took his right. Shoto winced slightly but managed a faint smirk.

"I’m fine," he muttered, his voice low. "Though I think I’m going to feel a bump on my rump later."

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Izuku joined in, his face lighting up with a grin. "At least you’re still in good spirits," Izuku said, his hand steady on Shoto’s elbow. As you guided Shoto back to your group, Momo crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "He had to have planned this," she said, glancing toward Katsuki, who was still smirking like a wolf who had just cornered its prey.

"He definitely planned this," Shinsou agreed. "He’s got a hard  energy, and that storm? Yeah, he summoned that somehow."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "Please. Katsuki may be many things, but a sorcerer is not one of them. That role already belongs to Tokoyami."

"Easy for you to say," Shinsou shot back, a teasing lilt to his tone. "He snaps his jaw at everyone but you."

Before you could respond, Shoto, still catching his breath, added with a faint chuckle, "The rogue's not wrong."

You raised a brow at them both, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 

"That’s because Katsuki bites me—with affection. And for the record, I rather enjoy it."

It got quiet as shit for a moment. 

Momo’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing slightly as she pressed a hand to her forehead. 

"I will pray for you," she said with dramatic sincerity.

"Thank you," you replied, your tone light as you patted her shoulder.

Turning your attention back to Shoto, you gave him a once-over. "Do you need to sit this one out? No shame in resting." Shoto straightened, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. "Nonsense. I’m fine," he insisted, his voice steady. "Though I might borrow some of those stretches Izuku taught me from his time in the hospital."

As Shoto began his stretches, you exchanged a glance with the green boy, both of you shaking your heads fondly. Katsuki’s voice called out from across the field, pulling your attention back to him. His grin was wider now, his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the next round.

Your group gathered under the makeshift wall you’d fashioned out of leftover ice blocks to shield everyone from the oncoming snow, the strategic discussion kicked off in earnest. Shinsou leaned casually against one of the abandoned snow boulders, his arms crossed as he surveyed the field. Izuku knelt in the snow, furiously sketching plans in the frost with his gloved hand while Shoto quietly stretched beside him, his focus sharpening with each deliberate movement. You stood at the center, glancing between everyone as ideas were tossed around, your hands tucked into your muff for warmth.

"We need to be careful," Shinsou started, his eyes narrowing as he gestured toward Katsuki’s team. "Bakugou’s got Kirishima and Mina—his heavy hitters—and the storm storm boosted Dark Shadow. They’re not playing around."

Izuku nodded, his breath puffing in the cold air. "He’ll send Mina in next. Her acid can cut through ice, and she’s quick enough to avoid fire attacks. Shoto, you’ll need to anticipate her movements."

Shoto flexed his fingers, the faint crackle of frost forming over his glove. "I can handle Mina," he said calmly. "But we need to anticipate her pairing with Kirishima. If he rushes in to cover her, it could get messy."

"We’ll counter with teamwork," you interjected, nodding toward Shinsou. "Shinsou, if you can neutralize Kirishima early with your quirk, we’ll have a better chance at overwhelming Mina. Momo, you’re my backup. Izuku, you’ll provide distraction."

"Understood," Shinsou said, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "I’ll make sure Kirishima’s too distracted to even touch you, Empress."

Before you could reply, a voice called out from the bleachers.

"Lady Momo! Would you find your way over here!" Jirou’s voice rang out, cutting through the strategy meeting. Momo blinked, glancing between you and the bleachers where Jirou was waving enthusiastically. 

"Excuse me, your grace. I’ll be right back," she promised, smoothing her scarf as she headed toward Jirou. Denki, lounging lazily next to Jirou with a mischievous grin on his face, piped up. "Mo, can you make us a drink machine please? I’m parched."

Momo hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a small smile. "Of course," she said, summoning her quirk. With a graceful sweep of her back, she produced a small vending machine stocked with hot drinks to warm everyone’s spirits.

"Yes! Hot cocoa and coffee! You’re the best!" Denki cheered, bounding over to the machine as the rest of the crowd gathered around it. Sato, ever the gentleman, stepped forward with a wrapped pound cake. "For strength," he said warmly, handing the cake to Momo.

"Thank you, dear baker," Momo said graciously, her cheeks dusted with pink from the attention.

Jirou, meanwhile, fidgeted nervously with something in her hand, her usually cool demeanor cracking under the weight of her shyness. "Uh, Mo…" she began, her voice barely audible over the chatter.

Momo tilted her head, her expression curious. "Yes, Song bird?"

Jirou swallowed hard before thrusting a small ring toward her, her ears turning a deep crimson. "This is for you," she mumbled, not meeting Momo’s gaze.

Momo’s eyes widened as she accepted a grass ring, turning it over in her hand. It was simple but beautiful, clearly something Jirou had poured her heart into. "Jirou…this is lovely," Momo said softly, her voice laced with genuine gratitude.

Jirou ducked her head, scratching the back of her neck. "It’s nothing fancy. Just…a token, you know?"

Momo smiled warmly, slipping the ring onto her finger. "It’s perfect," she said sincerely, her words making Jirou’s ears twitch in delight. Not far off, Denki waved frantically at Kirishima, who was standing with Katsuki’s group. 

"Yo, Kiri! Get over here!"

Kirishima hesitated, glancing at Katsuki, who immediately narrowed his eyes. 

"Eijirou, don’t—"

But before Katsuki could grab him, Kirishima dashed over to Denki with a wild grin.

Denki, ever the joker, handed Kirishima a frozen leaf, his grin widening. "For you, bro. A token of our undying friendship." Kirishima let out a bark of laughter, clutching the frozen leaf dramatically. "This is priceless, man. I’ll treasure it forever!"

The two of them laughed, their playful camaraderie drawing amused glances from the others. Katsuki, meanwhile, stood in the distance, arms crossed and a vein twitching in his temple as he watched his "troops" scatter.

You turned back to your group, shaking your head with a wry smile. "Katsuki’s team is falling apart already," you said, your tone light.

Shinsou smirked, adjusting his scarf. "Don’t let your guard down. He’s still got something up his sleeve. Demon King or not, Bakugou isn’t one to go down easy."

"True," Shoto agreed, finishing his stretches. "But we’re ready for him. Let’s stick to the plan."

With that, the group reconvened, ready to face the next round with renewed determination. The snow continued to fall, but the fire of competition burned bright in everyone’s eyes.

The air felt thick with anticipation as Iida and Shoji stepped back onto the field, their figures slicing through the thickening snowflakes. Shoji's stoic presence commanded attention, while Iida’s precise and authoritative voice cut through the murmur of the crowd like a bell.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today for the second round of this glorious battle!" 

Iida boomed, his voice almost as powerful as his actions, his eyes scanning the arena to make sure everyone was ready. 

“Prepare yourselves, for the clash of champions approaches! Remember, once you leave the designated battlefield or stray out of sight, you will be disqualified!” 

His words were clear, punctuated by the intensity of his gaze, ensuring everyone understood the weight of the rules. Shoji, ever silent, stood beside him, nodding to affirm the severity of Iida's command.

As the snow began to fall heavier, the swirling white mist seemed to grow darker under the ominous clouds overhead. It was almost as though the weather itself was becoming a reflection of the battle's rising stakes. Momo, ever the strategist, quickly set to work, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a pristine white snow machine, its steady hum filling the chilly air, and began to prepare several pairs of goggles for Shinsou, Izuku, and Shoto. 

The winter storm wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, and her foresight to protect their eyes was invaluable.

You stood there, taking a deep breath as you cracked your fingers, the gentle pop of your knuckles cutting through the crisp air. There was no hesitation in your movements now. You adjusted the scarfs and hats of your team, ensuring everyone was warm enough but still able to move freely. It was all about balance—warmth for defense, flexibility for offense.

Shoto, standing to your side, took a moment to channel his ice quirk, focusing intently as he exhaled. He then reached out, quickly warming everyone’s hands with a gentle, controlled burst of warmth, the icy chill of the air evaporating in seconds. 

"Hold these carefully," he instructed, his voice steady and reassuring. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he created an ice spear—perfectly sculpted and sharp, designed for precision. "For defense, if needed." He handed it to Izuku, who nodded gratefully. A moment later, Shoto repeated the process, crafting a set of sleek ice knives and daggers for Shinsou, who flexed his fingers eagerly, preparing to fight with these new tools in his hands.

You flexed your own fingers in the cold air, feeling the familiar coolness spread through your limbs. Each of your movements was deliberate, the quiet assurance of a seasoned fighter beginning to hum beneath your skin. You couldn’t afford to hesitate—not today. Your eyes moved across the battlefield, seeking your opponent. 

And there, at the other end, you saw him— your husband.

Katsuki was standing tall, his back straight, an aura of confidence and something darker surrounding him. 

His presence loomed over the battlefield like a storm waiting to break. Katsuki was a force of nature, radiating an intensity that made the very ground beneath him tremble. His eyes gleamed with that familiar, wild spark as he whispered orders to his team—Kirishima, Mina, Tokoyami, and Ayoma. They nodded in unison, readying themselves for the fray, their resolve evident.

As you watched them, Katsuki’s gaze locked onto yours. His lips curled into a sly grin, the wicked glint in his eyes darkening the already grim atmosphere. He tilted his head, his hand gesturing in the air as he called out to you. 

“Ah, Snow Empress, thou art so keen to play the game, but canst thou withstand the fury of the storm I’ve summoned?” 

His words were mocking yet full of a strange affection, a reminder of the playful tension between you two.

You smirked, deciding that now was the time to make the rules even more entertaining. 

“Very well, my subjects,” you called out to the crowd, your voice as clear as the ringing of a bell, 

“Forsooth, from this moment forth, let it be known that all shall speak only in the tongue of Shakespeare or the nobility of old! All who dare speak otherwise shall forfeit their honor!” 

You threw a wink toward your team, the playful gleam in your eyes urging them to play along.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy shifting as your command rippled through the battlefield like wildfire. Everyone—heroes, and onlookers alike—grinned and laughed, slipping into their medieval personas with exaggerated flair. 

Momo held her head high, the elegance of a lady-in-waiting that could kill ya on full display as she adjusted her shield. Shoto cracked his neck and stretched, his eyes narrowing as he embraced the upcoming challenge with the calm composure of a knight prepared for battle. Izuku grinned, adjusting his scarf with the quiet dignity of a prince, while Shinsou’s smirk was that of a cunning strategist, ready to outwit any foe.

Katsuki, not one to be outdone, shook his head with a low chuckle. 

“Very well, thy ‘Empress,’” he called back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“If it pleases thee, I shall meet thee on the battlefield, but know that I shall not be so merciful as to take pity on those who dare cross me.” He gestured to his team, and they stepped forward, each one standing tall and proud, fitting the roles they had now taken on.

"Now, for the first round," Iida announced once more, stepping forward, his voice firm but tinged with excitement. "I shall now call forth the leaders to announce their fighters for this duel!" His hand waved toward you, the leader of your group, signaling for you to begin.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, your back straight, your presence commanding. 

“I present to thee, my loyal knights and comrades, the fairest of them all—Momo Yaoyorozu, the Shield Maiden, who shall defend us with unwavering strength!” Momo stepped forward with a graceful flourish, her shield held high, and the crowd cheered for her.

“Next, my steadfast companion and warrior of ice, Shoto Todoroki, the Prince of Winter, who shall freeze or burn all who dare stand in his way!” Shoto nodded, his expression serene, his ice quirk flickering at the edges of his gloves as he prepared.

“Following him, the courageous and noble Izuku Midoriya, the rightful ruler and crown alchemist, whose strength lies not only in his body, but in his heart!” Izuku puffed out his chest and stepped forward with a humble but determined nod, his eyes locked on Katsuki’s team.

The hard blush on his freckled cheeks was really cute too!

“Lastly, I present to thee, the silent but deadly strategist, Hitoshi Shinsou, the Knight of Minds, who will outwit and outmaneuver our foes with unparalleled cunning!” Shinsou tipped his head to the crowd, a faint smirk crossing his lips as he surveyed the battlefield.

The crowd roared their approval, the tension building. Then, as if sensing the end of the ceremony, Iida turned toward Katsuki, his voice steady. 

“And now, the Demon King’s chosen warriors!”

Katsuki suddenly stepped forward, raising a hand to silence the crowd. His crimson gaze glinted with mischief, and you instantly knew he was about to do something dramatic. The gathered subjects fell silent, their attention fully on him, though a few stifled giggles at his tone. Katsuki stood tall, arms crossed, as though he were the rightful ruler of this realm.

“Kirishima!” he bellowed, pointing at his best friend with a flourish. “A giant most unbreakable, a stalwart wall of strength and valor! He who doth stand firm against the tides of battle, red as the blood of our enemies!” Kirishima puffed up his chest, throwing up a fist and beaming. 

“Hell yeah! Unbreakable for life!”

Katsuki gave him a curt nod before moving on, his tone growing sharper. “Mina! A rogue mage whose swiftness and guile make her a tempest upon the battlefield! Behold, the Acid Assassin, she whose strike is deadly and unseen!” Mina twirled in place, striking a dramatic pose and blowing a kiss to the crowd. “All in a day’s work!”

Next, Katsuki turned his piercing gaze to Aoyama, whose sparkles practically blinded everyone. Katsuki gestured grandly. “And lo, we have Aoyama! The Starblade of our forces, a radiant beacon of distraction—or destruction! Doth he not shine bright?”

Aoyama struck a dazzling pose, winking as sparkles trailed from his finger guns. “Mais oui! Magnifique!”

“And now,” Katsuki continued, his tone dropping into something darker, “Tokoyami and his loyal beast, Dark Shadow! The vanguard of the night, wielding shadows as their blade! Fear them, for they are the abyss that swallows the unwary whole!”

Tokoyami inclined his head solemnly, his expression as stoic as ever. Dark Shadow, however, roared with glee. Katsuki paused, surveying his ‘warriors’ with an expression of exaggerated pride. 

“Together, these warriors, chosen by the Demon King himself, shall strike terror into the hearts of all who oppose us! Now rise, my army, and let us seize victory!”

His declaration was met with an eruption of cheers, laughter, and a few scattered claps. Mina leaned over to whisper loudly, “You really got into that, huh?”

“Shut it!” Katsuki snapped, though his ears were faintly red.

You clapped your hands together, grinning at him. “See? I told you the tongue of old worked.”

Katsuki shot you a warning glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smirk. 

“Yes, Yes. Do not become so reliant, Snow Empress.”

Before you could counter, Iida  boomed, his voice almost as powerful as his actions, his eyes scanning the arena to make sure everyone was ready. 

“Prepare yourselves, for the clash of champions approaches! Remember, once you leave the designated battlefield or stray out of sight, you will be disqualified!” 

His words were clear, punctuated by the intensity of his gaze, ensuring everyone understood the weight of the rules. Shoji, ever silent, stood beside him, nodding to affirm the severity of Iida's command.

As the snow began to fall heavier, the swirling white mist seemed to grow darker under the ominous clouds overhead. It was almost as though the weather itself was becoming a reflection of the battle's rising stakes.

You stood there, taking a deep breath as you cracked your fingers, the gentle pop of your knuckles cutting through the crisp air. There was no hesitation in your movements now. As you watched them, Katsuki’s gaze locked onto yours. His lips curled into a sly grin, the wicked glint in his eyes darkening the already grim atmosphere. He tilted his head, his hand gesturing in the air as he called out to you. 

“Ah, my love, thou art so keen to play the game, but canst thou withstand the fury of the storm I’ve summoned?” His words were mocking yet full of a strange affection, a reminder of the playful tension between you two.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy shifting as your command rippled through the battlefield like wildfire. Everyone—heroes, friends, and onlookers alike—grinned and laughed, slipping into their medieval personas with exaggerated flair. 

Momo held her head high, the elegance of a lady-in-waiting on full display as she adjusted her shield. Shoto cracked his neck and stretched, his eyes narrowing as he embraced the upcoming challenge with the calm composure of a knight prepared for battle. Izuku grinned, adjusting his scarf with the quiet dignity of a prince, while Shinsou’s smirk was that of a cunning strategist, ready to outwit any foe. 

Katsuki, not one to be outdone, shook his head with a low chuckle. 

“Very well, soft ‘Empress,’” he called back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“If it pleases thee, I shall meet thee on the battlefield, but know that I shall not be so merciful as to take pity on those who dare cross me.” He gestured to his team, and they stepped forward, each one standing tall and proud, fitting the roles they had now taken on.

Kirishima rolled his shoulders, a fiery grin on his face as he pounded his fists together, ready to charge in as the fearless knight. Mina adjusted her scarf with a mischievous smirk, her energy electric like a rogue poised for action. Aoyama struck a dazzling pose, his wrap billowing dramatically as he declared victory in the stars. Tokoyami stood cloaked in shadow, Dark Shadow hovering menacingly beside him, both ready to unleash chaos. Katsuki cracked his knuckles, his smirk sharp and commanding, the Demon King prepared to lead his warriors into glorious battle.

The crowd roared their approval, the tension building. Then, as if sensing the end of the ceremony, Iida turned toward Katsuki, his voice steady. 

Iida nodded once, satisfied. "Now, prepare yourselves!" he called. “The duel shall begin in earnest! Fighters, take your stations!”

With a final, powerful declaration, Shoji’s voice rang out across the field. 

“Duel!”

And with that, the battle began. The snow swirled around y’all, the heavy clouds casting a dark shadow over the arena. A storm was coming, but which side would emerge victorious? 

Well, no one, actually.

The arena had fallen silent. 

No one moved; no one breathed. Each team stood poised, studying their opponents, calculating the first strike. Snow swirled lazily in the wind above, a quiet lull before the chaos of battle. There was something almost poetic in the stillness, the tension thick in the air, as if the entire world held its breath, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Then, like a lightning strike, a dagger soared through the air, glinting dangerously in the pale light. But before anyone could react, a sizzling hiss filled the air. Mina's acid quirk melted the dagger into a puddle before it could even hit its mark. A soft chuckle escaped from Shinsou's lips as he looked at Mina, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

You could see it. He was proud of her—she had passed his test, keeping her cool and handling the first attack with ease. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. 

And that was exactly what you needed.

A breathless moment of stillness passed, before it shattered like glass. 

Without warning, Katsuki lunged forward, his hands crackling with raw energy, determination burning in his eyes. "Don’t just stand there, ya bastards!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the snowstorm as he charged.

"Go!" You shouted, the command ringing in the cold air. Your team sprang into action.

You raised your hands high, the motion slow, deliberate. The snow above began to thicken and churn, swirling in an ominous vortex. With a forceful thrust of your arms, you brought the snowstorm down in a violent gust. It crashed against Katsuki and his team with the force of a winter avalanche, enveloping them in thick, stinging snow. The gusts were so powerful that even their shouts were muffled by the weight of the blizzard.

Katsuki's voice cut through the white-out, full of frustration and defiance. "Tch, don’t think you’ve won yet!" He gritted his teeth as the snow blanketed him, his body tense. The wind howled around him, and with a growl, he surged forward, pushing through the frozen mist. 

But as he moved, you were already behind him, the flick of your wrist sending a barrage of snowballs hurtling through the air. The impact was sharp, freezing. Katsuki flinched, his body jerked back for a second as the cold splattered over him, but he quickly recovered, his fiery spirit refusing to be subdued.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Kirishima pop up in front of you, his grin wide, the determination in his eyes matching the fierce storm around you. Before he could even close the gap, Momo was there, tackling him with surprising strength, her shield ready to defend against whatever he might throw her way.

Meanwhile, Shoto, Izuku and Katsuki were locked in an intense battle, their powers colliding in a brilliant spectacle of ice and fire. The arena seemed to tremble with every strike, their wills clashing like titans. Sparks flew in all directions as their abilities pressed against each other—Katsuki’s explosions against Shoto’s chilling cold. 

It was the perfect clash of opposing forces.

Shinsou was already in motion, his eyes gleaming with concentration. He darted across the battlefield, his mind working at full speed as he engaged Tokoyami. Dark Shadow surged from the shadows, an eerie presence that seemed to grow with every move, but Shinsou was a step ahead. His voice cut through the chaos like a blade, and Tokoyami hesitated, a momentary lapse in his focus.

In that second of distraction, Shinsou made his move. He darted in, grabbing the bird mans arm and quickly binding Tokoyami’s legs with the power of his mind, and before Dark Shadow could react, Shinsou knocked him hard towards the bleachers. The force sent him tumbling, landing unceremoniously with a loud thud. The crowd gasped as Tokoyami was caught mid-air by Sato, who grinned sheepishly and offered him some crumble cake as a peace offering.

Iida’s voice rang out from the sidelines, booming through the cold air. 

“Point for her heavenly majesty!” His words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, 

“Tokoyami and Dark Shadow are out!”

The game was already in full swing, but you knew that victory wasn’t just about power—it was about timing, strategy, and the willingness to push your limits. And you could feel that in the air now. The momentum was shifting, but the battle was far from over.

As the chaos swirled around you, you suddenly felt the silence of the battlefield grow heavy. You could see Katsuki on the other side, and his narrowed gaze momentarily locked onto yours. He’d backed Shoto into a corner near a park bench, the two of them still locked in an intense exchange. His hand was raised, ready to strike again, but you didn’t let him get the chance.

Without hesitation, you threw a snowball, watching as it sailed across the distance. It smacked into Katsuki’s back with a hard thud. He froze for a split second, stunned by the unexpected attack, and then slowly turned, his eyes locking onto you.

There was no warning, no hesitation in his expression—just that familiar, dangerous grin. 

You blew him a kiss from across the battlefield, a playful challenge in your eyes.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, a silent promise passing between you two—a promise that this battle was far from over. You could see his mind working, calculating, anticipating your next move. But you were already ahead of him.

The battlefield felt like a chaotic blur of movement, where every step, every breath was calculated, and yet, in a moment, it could all come undone. The air was thick with snowflakes swirling violently in the storm you’d summoned, and the ground beneath your feet trembled as each battle raged on. It was a dance of powers—ice, fire, acid, explosions, and the hum of quirk energy that filled the air. And you were right in the heart of it, pulling the strings, making sure your team was always in motion, always ready to strike.

You darted through the snow, your steps light but purposeful, and spotted Shinsou across the way. He was exchanging blows with Tokoyami and Dark Shadow earlier, but now he caught your eye. His face was focused, serious, as he gauged the chaos around him. You nodded once, then called out, your voice carrying over the battlefield.

“Shinsou! Hypnotize Ayoma! Get him to blind Kirishima—quickly! We need expel him from the equation!” You barely finished the sentence before Shinsou, his eyes narrowing in understanding, was already off, darting through the snowstorm. You watched as he weaved through the chaos, heading straight for Ayoma with an almost predatory grace.

“Understood,” he called back without breaking stride. A moment later, Shinsou was by Ayoma’s side, whispering words that made the young man pause in his actions. Ayoma seemed hesitant for a second, but the weight of Shinsou’s orders was clear, and with a nod, Ayoma positioned himself just out of Kirishima’s line of sight.

You didn’t wait for it. 

The moment Shinsou made his move, you turned your attention back to Kirishima, who was still thrashing wildly in the middle of the battlefield, locked in combat with Momo. His energy was almost contagious, and you could feel it radiating off him. 

But that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Momo!” you shouted, your voice urgent, and you could see her turn to you, her shield held tight in her hands, her face a mask of concentration. "Prepare yourself!” You didn’t wait for a response—this was a battle of seconds.

With a quick leap, you soared through the air, the snow beneath you spraying into the air in a flurry. You aimed for Kirishima’s back, the one spot you had to use. The moment your hands landed on his broad shoulders, you grasped hold with all your strength, feeling his muscles tense beneath you as he bucked and kicked like a wild ram, trying to dislodge you. His movements were wild, fierce, but you held on, knowing that you had only one chance to do this.

Suddenly, your back was warm—almost too warm. 

And as you held tight, you suddenly felt something too hot to ignore searing through your coat. A gasp left your lips, and you tore away your outer layer in instinct, ripping the coat off your body as you quickly tried to get clear.

You didn’t even have time to think before you caught sight of Momo beside you. Without a second’s hesitation, you yanked her with you, pulling her from the chaos of the battle as you ran, using your ice powers to craft a thick, towering wall of snow between you and the opposition.

The snow wall rose swiftly, but you didn’t stop to admire your work. You spun around to face your pursuers, your breath coming out in sharp, misty gasps. And that’s when you saw her—Mina, smoke flickering at her fingertips, her eyes wide with concern as she sprinted to Kirishima’s side.

“No! I’m sorry!” Mina shouted, her voice full of urgency as she pushed past the snow and flames that licked at her heels. “Lord Bakugou ordered me to save him—!” She didn’t finish her sentence, the heat from her quirk licking dangerously close to Kirishima as you watched in disbelief.

Kirishima's stance softened as he looked back to you. His broad, garnet eyes scanned you for any sign of harm. "You alright my Lady?" he called, his voice softer now, the fierceness of the fight fading as he saw the concern on your face.

You gave him a nod, trying to brush off the burning sensation from your back. 

“I’m fine, gentle Kirishima! Just—uh, just a little singed,” you said, a little breathless as you tossed your burned coat toward the bleachers, hoping to distance yourself from the now-burning fabric.

Koda, ever the curious soul, shot his hand out to catch the falling coat, but just as his fingers brushed against the cloth, a realization hit him. He hesitated, his eyes growing wide. “Uh... wait, this is—” he began, looking down at the now-scorched garment in his hands.

Before anyone could react, Denki pulled him back, his face contorted with alarm. “Nope! Nope, nope, nope!” He backed up quickly, eyes wide as he realized the acid from Mina’s quirk was still lingering on the fabric.

The entire scene seemed to pause at that moment. The tension on the battlefield was palpable, and the fleeting second that passed felt like eternity. Koda quickly dropped the coat, and everyone held their breath, watching as it settled onto the ground, untouched by further flame or explosion.

Meanwhile, Momo gave you a concerned look, her brow furrowed, her shield still tightly held in her hands. “Are you really alright? That... looked like it hurt,” she said, her voice soft but laden with worry.

You waved her off with a chuckle, trying to shake off the sting in your back. “I’m fine, really. Just... a little more heat than I expected.” You could still feel the burn, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the battle that was still very much in motion.

The tension in the air was thick, like the weight of a storm waiting to break. The snowstorm, which had been both your weapon and shield, continued to swirl, but now it was becoming a frenzy, a storm of your own making, as you pushed your powers to their limits.

Momo's machines roared to life again, but this time, they were in overdrive. She'd instructed them to go wild, and they did. Snow blasted out in sheets, slamming down on Katsuki and Kirishima. The two of them were taken by surprise, caught in the avalanche of ice and snow that left them momentarily disoriented. This was the chance you’d been waiting for.

“Now!” you shouted to Momo, who was already dashing ahead, her own speed unmatched as she leapt through the chaos with the grace of a seasoned fighter.

You followed close behind, your breath heavy with determination as you surged forward, your heart pounding in time with each step. You could see Kirishima, trapped in the snowstorm, still fighting to regain his bearings. 

Without hesitation, you launched yourself toward him again, leaping onto his back as you had before. But this time, there was no hesitation. You slid your hands underneath his shirt, sending a blast of freezing cold through him.

His entire body stiffened at the sudden chill, his muscles tensing under your touch. Kirishima let out a surprised grunt, but you held firm, your grip tight on his torso. You could feel the heat radiating from his body trying to fight against the ice creeping through him, and it was a momentary advantage that you seized with all the strength you had.

But before you could even enjoy the victory, Mina surged forward, her body ablaze with her acidic flames. 

The heat was unbearable, and she quickly melted away Momo’s defenses, turning her shield into nothing but puddles of melted plastic. With a swift move, Mina knocked Momo out of the bounds, sending her sprawling across the field.

Iida immediately called out the disqualification, his voice cutting through the noise like a referee blowing the final whistle. But the sound was barely heard over the roar of Kirishima as he whipped you off his back with a violent toss, sending you flying through the air.

You landed with a soft thud, a laugh escaping your lips as you pushed yourself back to your feet. “Good  show, Kirishima!” you called, a smile crossing your face.

Shoto seized the opportunity. Without missing a beat, he froze Kirishima’s legs, locking the red giant in place just as you had hoped. The icy spikes burst from the ground, wrapping around Kirishima’s lower half, and he froze mid-step.

But just as things seemed to be tipping in your favor, Izuku appeared, charging in from the side, his kick landing squarely in Kirishima’s chest. The force of the blow sent the redhead flying out, and Shoji called out the announcement, marking him as out.

Victory was almost within reach. 

Almost. 

Kirishima wasn’t out at all. With a mighty roar, the red giant broke free of the ice restraints, charging at you with a renewed fury. You could see the raw power in his eyes, his muscles tense, his every movement an unstoppable force. He was coming at you like a freight train, but you weren’t ready to back down—not yet.

Izuku, ever the strategist, had already broken off, turning his attention back to Katsuki, who was still in the middle of his attack. You yelled at Shoto. “Go with him!” you ordered, knowing it would take both of them to handle the dynamo of explosions that was Katsuki.

Shoto nodded, his expression serious as he sprinted off in the direction of Izuku. You turned to face the rapidly advancing Kirishima, the snowstorm around you beginning to feel like a blur. But you had a back up plan.

You dashed over to a cluster of ice blocks, the snow swirling around you as you summoned even more. “Make haste!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos as Kirishima drew nearer. The icy wall rose up between you and him, but you didn’t wait for him to approach. You launched yourself over the barrier, using the ice to propel yourself upward and forward.

At that exact moment, you saw Shinsou and Ayoma pop up, just as planned. Ayoma blinked his dazzling, intense light at Kirishima, blinding him for just a second. 

It was enough.

Kirishima stopped in his tracks, his vision clouded, and that was all Shinsou needed. “Blink for me,” Shinsou’s voice was calm but firm, his quirk taking immediate effect. Ayoma’s eyes glazed over for a moment as Shinsou’s control over him took hold. He blinked, just as Shinsou had commanded. 

And that’s when you pounced.

With one fluid motion, you grabbed Kirishima’s legs, pulling him down to the ground. It was only a momentary distraction, but it was enough for Shinsou to fully take control of him.

Kirishima, now under Shinsou’s influence, turned and began charging at Katsuki, completely unaware of his previous actions. Katsuki watched in stunned silence as his teammate barreled toward him, confusion flashing in his eyes.

And then—chaos.

Izuku’s scream sliced through the air like a knife, panic rising in your chest as you whipped around. The scene unfolded with startling speed—Mina, a wicked grin on her face, had launched a new form of attack,

 An 'acid' snowball. 

It exploded against Izuku with a sickening hiss, the acid beginning to eat through his costume. His face twisted in pain, and you wasted no time.

"Shinsou!" you shouted, urgency in your voice. "Escort Ayoma out of bounds to cease his suffering!" 

You barely heard his affirmative as you surged toward Izuku, the snow beneath you crunching with each step. You summoned a blast of cold, freezing the acid in Mina’s hands just before she could hurl another attack.

With a quick movement, you gathered the power to throw a snowball, launching it at Mina's neck. The impact was immediate, and she stumbled back, her face a mix of surprise and anger as she fell to the ground. You rushed to Izuku’s side, grabbing one of her arms, your hands quick and efficient as you pulled her off him and began to freeze her. 

“COLD! COLD!”

Izuku, gasping for breath, stumbled to his feet as together, you pulled Mina out of bounds, just as Iida’s voice echoed through the arena, calling her out.

But the chaos didn’t stop. 

The moment you thought the danger had passed, you turned to see Katsuki and Kirishima locked in a violent struggle, their power struggling against each other. Shoto, doing his best to keep the situation from escalating into something worse, was struggling to hold the two back. You felt the ground rumble beneath you as explosions punctuated the scene.

"Lighten the fall!" you barked, directing your focus on the storm that had been your ally. You felt the snow above soften, the weight of it lifting just enough for you to see clearly once more.

But then, the worst happened.

Mina, not fully subdued, was back on her feet faster than you expected. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she threw a punch straight into Izuku’s chest, knocking the air out of him. Before you could react, she kicked him hard, sending him sprawling over the line, her victory a sharp contrast to the tenderness you’d felt just moments ago.

You screamed in desperation, reaching out for Izuku’s hand as he slid past the boundary, calling out to you with a voice full of pain and determination. 

"Empress!" he yelled, his eyes locked onto yours as his hand nearly brushed against yours.

But before you could make the distance, strong arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you backward. 

Kicking and struggling against the hold, you twisted in Shinsou’s grip, realizing what he was doing. He pulled you back, his voice stern in your ear. 

“You know the penalty,” he reminded you with a hint of reprimand. “Touching someone out of bounds is probably against the rules.”

Iida was already marching over, his stern gaze focused on you both. He called out, marking Mina and Izuku as out, his voice the final nail in the coffin.

Izuku, though clearly shocked, didn’t stay down for long. He was helped up by Sato, a supportive hand on his shoulder. Mina, apologetic, rushed over, her face full of remorse as she helped him stand. Izuku, ever the optimist, smiled despite the bruises and the burns, and began gushing about her hand-to-hand combat skills. 

“That was insane, Mina! I didn’t even see that coming!” he said, his enthusiasm infectious as they walked together toward Ochako and Tsu for bandages.

You turned back to the battle, feeling the tight knot of concern twisting in your gut. Shoji’s voice rang out, announcing the final two minutes of the match.

You bolted forward, not willing to let the others fall apart now.

You and Shinsou arrive just in time to see Katsuki about to launch his next attack, his eyes narrowed and focused solely on Shoto, ready to unleash another explosive blast. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed forward, throwing yourself between Shoto and the impending danger. 

With a desperate surge, you snatched Shoto out of harm's way, pulling him hard against your chest and leaping out of the blast radius just as the explosion rang out. The shockwave reverberated through your body as the ground beneath you cracked from the force of the blast.

You felt the heat of the explosion wash over you, a fleeting burn that you barely noticed compared to the adrenaline coursing through your veins. For a split second, you thought you'd managed to save him, but the momentary sense of victory was short-lived.

The next turn of events, however, was something none of you could have anticipated.

Kirishima, still locked in battle with Shinsou’s mental command, stopped dead in his tracks. His muscles, usually so full of life, tensed. He blinked, as though shaking off a haze, but then, instead of obeying Shinsou's command, his body began to harden with alarming speed. You barely had time to react before his massive hand shot out and grabbed you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground.

“Sorry,” Kirishima whispered, his voice surprisingly gentle as his hardened grip clamped down around your torso. You barely had time to register his words before you were jerked through the air, the speed and force of his movements making your stomach drop, breaking your hold on Shoto.

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening too late. “Kirishima!” you gasped, trying to wriggle free, but his hold on you was unbreakable.

And then, to your horror, you saw Shoto—falling, caught in the full force of Katsuki’s explosion.

The blast hit Shoto directly, and you watched in helpless agony as the explosion engulfed him. The sheer heat of the attack made the air shimmer, the snow around you turning into steam. For a heartbeat, everything went still.

Katsuki’s eyes locked on you, and in that moment, everything fell silent. 

You had lost your grip on Shoto, a momentary lapse as you realized just how badly the situation had shifted. 

It was all too late.

Kirishima’s hold on you tightened, and the chaos of the battlefield blurred around you, the future uncertain as you were forced to watch the disaster unfolding before you.

The frigid air burned your lungs as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. Your anger, a burning fire beneath the ice-cold surface of the snow-covered battlefield, surged within you, pulsing with the urgency of a thousand untold stories. Kirishima’s grip on you was tight, unrelenting, but in that instant, you knew it would break.

With a defiant twist, you threw your head back, the motion swift and desperate, your skull colliding with his nose. A sickening crack echoed in the silence of the snow-dusted park. He staggered back with a grunt, releasing you just as you summoned the ice, the chill of your power freezing his form, encasing him in a wall of solid frost that captured him effortlessly.

The snow around you seemed to hold its breath as you dropped to your knees, the cold biting at your skin as you cradled Shoto's head in your lap. The weight of him against you, so familiar, so loved, made your heart ache. His breathing was shallow at first, ragged from the blast, but you could feel the steady thrum of his pulse, the warmth of his skin beneath your hand.

You traced the lines of his face gently, your fingertips brushing against the coolness of his skin. Those eyes—the ones you cherished so deeply, the ones that had once glimmered with quiet confidence, now hazy with the remnants of the explosion—fluttered open, meeting your gaze. His lips parted, a soft apology escaping him, but you stopped him with a gentle shush, pressing your forehead to his.

"You fought bravely for me, Shoto," you whispered, the words a soothing balm for his troubled heart. "You did everything right. You acted with honor. Unlike him."

You raised your gaze to Katsuki, who was sitting comfortably encased in ice, seemingly unaffected by the trap you had set for him. He smirked at you, his posture arrogant, almost smug as he crossed his arms. He let out a low, mocking laugh and spoke in harsh tones, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Always the hero, aren’t you? Always coming to the rescue of your baby brother.” 

“Too bad it’s also your folly.”

The bite in his words made your blood run cold, and you glared at him, the ice beneath you crackling as your anger surged again, sharper this time. You weren’t going to let him insult your honor—or your love for Shoto.

You snapped your fingers, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise still park, and in an instant, Hitoshi’s ice dagger was flying through the air. It sliced through the air like lightning, the sharp edge meeting Katsuki’s cheek, leaving a thin red line where the ice scraped him, a symbol of his defiance. He winced but didn’t flinch—his smirk remained, 

The arrogant bastard.

"That is enough chatter out of you," you growled, your voice a low and dangerous hum in the cold, snowy air.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unexpected, pulling your attention away from the frozen scene in front of you. You turned, your gaze shifting to the newcomers. Sero, Sato, and Ayoma, standing nearby. Their expressions were a mixture of concern, admiration, and caution. They’d arrived just in time, but you didn’t have time to waste.

You gently untied your scarf from your neck, the fabric soft against your fingertips as you wrapped it around Shoto’s hands, tying it carefully to keep them warm. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment as you whispered a prayer for his safety.

"Go," you urged, your voice soft but firm, your hands brushing his hair back as you sent him off with a nod.

Shoto, still groggy but steady enough to stand, gave you one last look of gratitude before he left, aided by the boys. They would get him to safety, out of the bounds of the match, and you knew they’d protect him with everything they had.

As you rose to your feet, the park around you seemed to shrink in the distance. The snow had begun to fall heavier now, a soft flurry that blurred the world into a hazy vision of white and grey. The sky was still overcast, casting a dim light over the whole scene. The landscape was a blur of snow-covered trees, frozen ponds, and the distant sounds of muffled movement as your classmates struggled to recover from the chaos of the battle.

The weight of the moment settled over you. This had started as a game. A simple rivalry. 

But now, it was personal.

You held yourself tall, letting your posture straighten, the regal air of an empress seeping into your very bones. Your heart beats with a dangerous resolve, the fire inside you burning brighter than the frozen landscape around you. You weren’t just fighting for your people anymore. You were fighting for everything they Shoto stood for, for the honor that Katsuki had long forgotten.

The battlefield was quiet for a heartbeat. The snow was falling steadily now, covering the ground, coating the trees, and obscuring everything in the pale grey wash of winter. The world felt cold, detached, and far away, but your mind was focused on one thing.

You were going to teach your husband a lesson. One he would never forget.

And as you raised your chin high, meeting the eyes of the one who had insulted your family, you whispered, “This ends now.”

The tension in the air hung heavy as Iida’s voice rang out, cutting through the cold silence that had enveloped the field. 

"Time!" he declared, his voice firm, authoritative, and final. 

"The battle is over. This match ends in a draw."

A chorus of boo’s erupted from the bleachers, the sounds echoing through the snow-filled park. Disappointment rippled through the group, the heat of the battle fading into the quiet aftermath. You took a deep breath, your eyes flicking briefly to Kirishima, who stood there, stiff as a statue, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment. You didn’t give him the satisfaction. Your eyes slid past him, the coldness of your expression unwavering as you walked towards your subjects, your loyal comrades.

Your footsteps crunched through the snow as you moved, the sight of everyone huddled together, chatting and laughing, warming your heart despite the chill in the air. They were no longer pretending to be the war-torn soldiers they once were, the echoes of the ‘snow war’ finally starting to fade. They were simply friends again, a family bound by shared experiences and memories. You smiled softly at the scene, grateful for the laughter, the relief, and the camaraderie that filled the space.

But Kirishima’s voice broke through, his tone full of regret and pleading. “Empress,” he called out, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “I—I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean it. I—”

You turned away from him without a word, ignoring his attempt to make amends, your attention fully on the group ahead. Denki, ever the cheeky one, chimed in from the side, his voice as playful as always, though laced with a dramatic flair. "He should be tried for treason!" he declared, his hand making an exaggerated gesture in the air. 

“For the insult to our royal honor! To her excellency!”

The air between the group seemed to lighten with his words, the tension of the battle slipping into a more playful, almost medieval atmosphere. Hitoshi, standing slightly apart from the group, his eyes never leaving Katsuki as he stood isolated, spoke up, his voice teasing, but with a hint of insight. 

“He kinda looks lonely over there, doesn’t he?” His words were playful, but there was an undercurrent of truth. Katsuki was still encased in ice, looking almost pitiful in his defeat, as if the heat of his explosions couldn’t thaw the chill in his heart.

You glanced over to where Katsuki stood, his arms crossed, his smirk gone. His icy demeanor seemed almost self-imposed as he watched you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of sympathy. But you quickly squashed it, the fire of your pride burning hotter.

“It’s his own doing,” you muttered under your breath, the words harsh but necessary, your gaze hardening as you turned back to your friends, to your family.

A soft voice called your name from behind, pulling your attention. You turned to see Shoto sitting up from where he had been lying in the snow with Izuku and Mina. His usual calm demeanor was evident, though a playful grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “It’s alright, Sis,” he said, the hint of teasing in his voice. 

“It was all just dramatics. I’m fine.”

Izuku, who had been sitting beside him, gave a thumbs up with a grin. Mina, her usual fiery self, looked at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Just a little bit of extra flair for the show.” She waved it off, clearly not bothered by the near explosion she’d witnessed.

The sound of their laughter was like music to your ears, and you couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the battle lifting from your shoulders. Shoto was indeed fine. No lasting harm done. Just the theatrics of the moment, designed to add some spice to the otherwise quiet end.

You walked towards them, your stride confident and regal, the snow beneath your boots crunching as you made your way. “I should’ve known better,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Always the dramatics with you all.”

Kirishima, still standing off to the side, looked on in silence, but his eyes softened as he watched you approach the others. His words of apology still hung in the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything just yet. Instead, you joined your friends, your subjects, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could truly relax, basking in their warmth and joy.

They had your back. You had theirs.

So….

“Oh, do not look so downtrodden,” you say with a teasing smile, reaching out to Kirishima. Before he can fully process your words, you wrap your arms around the big guy and pull him into a playful hug, leaning back slightly to sway him with you. His eyes widen in surprise, but the relief washing over his face is immediate. 

“All is forgiven, Sir Kirishima,” you add warmly, patting his shoulder for emphasis.

The air shifts instantly, the tension melting like the snow under the bright sun. The rest of the group cheers and hollers, clapping and laughing at the display of forgiveness. Denki pumps his fist in the air, shouting something about, “Cheers for the Empress’s heart,” while Mina dramatically wipes an imaginary tear. Even Hitoshi offers a faint smirk, twirling one of the remaining ice daggers in his hand before letting it fall harmlessly to the ground.

The joyful noise quiets as Momo raises a hand, her posture as graceful as ever despite the chill. She’s still wrapped up with Jirou, who looks equally intrigued by what’s to come. 

“My lady,” Momo begins, her voice carrying a regal tone that matches the medieval atmosphere you’ve all conjured. 

“What shall you do when you face off against your husband?”

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully. The group leans in, their breath visible in the frosty air as they await your response. Then, as if struck by inspiration, you grin widely, the kind of grin that hints at mischief.  “Momo,” you say, your voice rich with excitement, 

“Would you tailor me a cherry red robe? I have a plot stewing.”

The circle tightens as everyone huddles together, their curiosity piqued. The snow crunches softly beneath your boots as you step closer to Momo, who nods in acknowledgment, already mentally sketching out the design. Whispered plans ripple through the group like a shared secret, the buzz of excitement building. Even Shoto, still lounging in the snow next to Izuku and Mina, leans in with interest, his dual-toned eyes gleaming with intrigue.

While you’re immersed in your plotting, Katsuki moves.

The ice encasing him begins to shift subtly. Unbeknownst to anyone, he’s been melting the interior into warm water for some time now, the heat from his palms steadily eating away at his frozen prison. With a sharp crack, the last layer shatters, and he steps out, steam rising from his skin as if he were a fiery god emerging from the snow.

Katsuki doesn’t announce himself, nor does he storm over to disrupt your plans. 

Instead, he stands there, watching the scene before him. The corners of his mouth tug downward into a slight frown, but the emotion behind it isn’t anger—it’s something more subdued, almost wistful. He folds his arms across his chest, his crimson eyes locked on you.

He tells himself it doesn’t bother him. The group huddled around you, the way they gravitate toward your leadership, the way they laugh so freely in your presence—it’s fine. He doesn’t need their approval or attention. But…

Katsuki’s gaze softens slightly, lingering on you. He watches the way you smile, the way you effortlessly bring everyone together, your laughter bright and contagious even in the freezing cold. He remembers the first time he saw that smile, in this very park, no less. It was below -28°C that night, the bitter chill biting at every inch of exposed skin. UA’s curfew was long past, but you had both braved the icy weather, sitting side by side on the old swings. He hadn’t cared about the snow then, or the cold. 

All he could think about was how beautiful you looked, your cheeks flushed from the chill, your eyes alight with wonder as you gazed up at the night sky.

Katsuki hadn’t been looking at the stars that night. He’d been looking at you. That was the moment he’d known—you were it for him. 

The only one.

So yeah, it actually stung a little to see you so engrossed with the rest of the class while he stood off to the side. It hurts more than he’d like to admit to be excluded, to feel like the outsider when he is yours. And the cut on his face from Hitoshi’s ice dagger? 

That wasn’t just a sting; it was an insult. 

But he wasn’t about to say any of that.

Instead, he smirked to himself, his trademark cocky grin returning as his crimson eyes gleamed with a familiar spark. If you wanted to band together with these extras and plot against him, fine. Let them have their moment. He’d remind you who your true loyalty was with soon enough.

His smirk deepened as he thought about you—his wife, his empress. 

The woman who always made sure he wore that he was bundled up in this kind of weather, even when he grumbled about it. The woman who fussed over him endlessly, whether it was over a scraped hand or a missed meal, despite his protests and rough words. 

The queen who knew exactly how he liked his coffee—strong, no sugar—and made it for him every morning without fail, just because she wanted him to start his day right. The princess who listened to his rants, no matter how long or loud, and never made him feel like he was too much to handle. The peach who could calm the storm inside him with a single touch, a soft word, or that crooked smile of hers that he swore could knock him out harder than any villain ever could.

The lady who laughed at his terrible jokes—because yes, he did have a sense of humor, damn it—and never let him forget that he was more than just a hero. The one who made their house feel like home, filling it with warmth, love, and a softness he never knew he needed until she was there. The person who always saw the best in him, even when he was too stubborn to see it in himself, and somehow made him want to be better every single day.

And perhaps most importantly, the woman who loved him fiercely, unconditionally, and with a depth that left him breathless. The one who made him believe that he deserved all of it—her care, her warmth, her love—even on the days when he doubted himself the most. The spirit who somehow made freezing winter days feel warm and bright just by existing in them, her presence chasing away the bitter chill like the sun breaking through the clouds.

The girl who somehow made his heart feel safe and warm and light just by being here.

Katsuki glanced down at the snow beneath his boots, kicking at it absentmindedly. 

Whatever. If you wanted a war, you’d get one. Katsuki shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the warm steam rise around him. The icy chill in the air didn’t faze him—not when he was already planning how to make you all pay.

Starting with you, his pretty little Empress.

The air seemed to grow colder as you walked to the battlefield, the silk robe Momo had tailored for you brushing against your skin with every step. The snow beneath your feet was pristine now, smooth and unmarred by the chaos of earlier battles. You had taken care to clear the clouds overhead, leaving a serene blue sky in their place. Only Momo and Jirou’s icy igloo castle remained standing, its frosty walls gleaming like a beacon of past victories.

Momo sipped her hot chocolate leisurely, watching you with a quiet smile of encouragement as you excused yourself from the huddle and walked toward the battle lines. Katsuki’s whistle broke the quiet, sharp and appreciative, and then he smirked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

"Fair empress, thou art so radiant that thy very presence doth make this battle folly. I pray thee, surrender now, and let me claim you as my prize.”

You turned to face him with a raised brow, your expression the perfect balance of disdain and amusement. 

“Thyn words are wasted, husband, for no empress would yield to the likes of thee.” Your voice carried the commanding tone of royalty, each syllable precise and biting.

Katsuki chuckled darkly, shaking his head in amusement. His crimson eyes never left you as he leaned against the hilt of his snow-covered “blade”. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be the spear Shoto dropped when he was blasted. 

Shoji drew a new line in the snow, and Iida stood between you both like a proper officiant, clipboard in hand. “Are you both ready to begin?” Iida asked, his usual formality unwavering despite the growing tension. You tilted your head, your gaze locking onto Katsuki’s. 

Something felt... off. 

His posture was confident, his smirk as cocky as ever, but his eyes—they betrayed him. They always did. Katsuki could lie to the entire world, but not to you. Never you. The faint flicker of vulnerability was there, hidden behind his usual bravado. You frowned as he broke eye contact, addressing Iida and the rest of your friends instead.

“In truth, I doth understand thy devotion to her grace,” Katsuki said, his voice deep and steady as he slipped fully into the role. He gestured toward you dramatically, his grin sharp. 

“Thy sweet, dear little Empress hath ensnared you all with her charms, as she hath me. I’ll not hold it against thee—nay, if thou dost beg now for my forgiveness, I’ll make thyn executions swift and merciful.”

The group erupted in protest.

Denki was the first to shout, “We will never follow you, demon king!” But the moment Katsuki’s growl rumbled out, Denki vanished behind Mina and Sero with a yelp. Shoto rose from where he had been resting beside Izuku, his mismatched eyes blazing with defiance. 

“We will never bow to you, Katsuki,” he declared, his voice cold as the snow beneath him.

Izuku stepped forward as well, his usual stammer gone. “Our loyalty lies with her grace, the heavenly Snow Empress of the High Court.”

Hitoshi smirked, crossing his arms. “Mother of Snowflakes, Maker of Blizzards, Survivor of the Grotesque Demon King. That’s who we follow.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face at the growing list of titles. “Hey!” you shouted at Hitoshi, your glare directed at him for the jab. He simply shrugged, unbothered.

Katsuki, however, took it all in stride. His gaze darkened as he looked at the group, his smirk vanishing into something far more dangerous. 

That murderous glint in his eye promised retribution for their insults.

Before the tension could fully settle, you bent down and grabbed a handful of snow. With a quick flick of your wrist, you sent it flying at Hitoshi, catching him square in the nose and sending him sprawling into the snow. “Watch thy tongue, knave,” you said, unable to hold back the grin tugging at your lips.

Iida cleared his throat loudly, trying to regain control. “As I was saying—the rules for the final match—”

Katsuki raised a hand, cutting him off. “I’ve got a request,” he said. His voice was sharp but calm, drawing everyone’s attention.

You tilted your head, curious and slightly wary. “Speak, consort,” you said with a flick of your hand.

Katsuki smirked, but there was steel behind it. “Whoever wins this final match wins overall,” he said. 

“Forget the first two matches—this one decides everythin’.”

The group collectively gasped.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, and you turned to him fully, your silk robe swaying with the motion. 

“Stop thy jesting,” you said, your tone sharp but tinged with concern.

“’m not the jester, dearest” he replied, his voice low and serious. He cast a pointed look at Denki and Sero, who immediately looked like they wanted to melt into the snow.

“Please, my lady, no!” Toru’s voice rang out, pleading and full of panic.

The others quickly joined in, their voices overlapping as they begged you to refuse. Even Iida and Shoji looked uneasy, though neither spoke against Katsuki directly.

Iida stepped forward hesitantly. “You already have one loss under your belt, my lady. There is no need to risk it all. The final match would have required a duel regardless—”

You tune him out, your mind swirling. You weren’t thinking of strategy, of the group’s loyalty or morale. This wasn’t about the game anymore. You looked at Katsuki, really looked at him. The vulnerability you had seen earlier was still there, faint but undeniable. It wasn’t just about winning for him—this was personal.

After a long pause, you nodded. Decision made.

“I will accept his highness’s petition,” you said, your voice steady. “But only on one condition.”

Katsuki steps closer, his boots crunching in the freshly smoothed snow, his sharp crimson eyes narrowing as he studies you. The rest of the “kingdom” leans in, their collective breaths held as you clear your throat and raise your arms with an air of finality.

“If I am to accept thy terms,” you begin, your voice echoing across the snowy battlefield, “Thou must spare all my people. Thou art to show them nothing but love, compassion, and genuine kindness for the rest of thy days. Shouldst thou falter, I shall take thy life in the dead of night and rule the kingdom myself.”

The entire arena erupts in gasps, the bleachers breaking into a cacophony of cries. Shoji practically stumbles forward, his usual composure gone. 

“My lady, dost thou know the gravity of thy words?!”

Shoto’s voice rises in desperation, icy and steady despite the panic in his eyes. “My empress, no! You cannot!” Even Tsu clutches her hot chocolate so tightly that it nearly spills, her eyes wide with disbelief. Koda squeaks so loud it scars off a family of squirrels. Izuku drops his head, murmuring prayers under his breath, his hands clasped tightly.

“Silence!” you snap, your voice cutting through the chaos with regal authority. 

“My word is final.”

Katsuki’s smirk falters slightly, his brow furrowing as he watches you. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his cocky demeanor giving way to a rare moment of genuine thoughtfulness. For a long moment, he puzzles over your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rasping.

“You would trade your freedom for these simple fools?”

You don’t hesitate. You step closer to him, your silk robe sweeping behind you as you close the gap between you. Tilting your chin up, you meet his sharp gaze with a terrifying calm.

“I would give my life for theirs any day,” you spit, your voice venomous and unyielding. 

For a moment, you consider spitting on the ground at his feet for emphasis, but you stop yourself, sensing something deeper beneath Katsuki’s cold exterior.

He stares at you, his expression unreadable, the sharpness in his features almost unbearable to look at up close. His spiky blond hair catches the sunlight, soft despite the chaos it mirrors, and his vermillion eyes are a storm of emotions—anger, admiration, and something else he’ll never admit out loud. His scarred cheek and strong jawline add to the kingly aura he exudes, a mixture of untamed power and raw, undeniable charisma.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a pang of… something as you took him in. He is your husband after all! The dangerous smile tugging at his lips, the high cheekbones and soft dimples that only you knew how to find, the sharp canine teeth that gleamed whenever he smirked. Even his hard, lean frame in that winter hero uniform screamed dominance and control.

He really does look like a king. 

Too bad about the attitude, though.

Katsuki smiles at last, slow and deliberate, as if savoring your defiance. He nods in acceptance, his voice dripping with amusement. 

“As you wish, my Empress.”

Behind you, the bleachers devolve into chaos.

“NO!” Denki wails dramatically before fainting into Mina’s arms. She barely has time to hold him up before Ojirou and Kida rush in to keep them both from toppling over.

“Whip his ass!” Ochako shouts, her voice filled with determination, though her expression is one of sheer panic. “Fight Queenie! Show him what it means to defy the Snow Empress!” Kirishima yells, his large fists shaking in the air.

You keep your head held high, unmoved by their cries, your focus entirely on Katsuki. His confidence radiates off him like heat, and as much as you hate to admit it, it’s a little intoxicating.

“Thy pride shall be thy undoing,” you say with finality, stepping back to your side of the field.

“Make thy peace, lovely woman,” Katsuki replies, his voice carrying a dark promise. 

“I shall not go easy on thee.”

As Shoji raises his hand to mark the start of the match, you stand tall, refusing to let him see the effect his presence has on you. You’re ready. For your people, for your pride, for the thrill of reminding him just who he’s dealing with.

“Duel!”

With a flourish of energy as you leap back, landing gracefully in the snow, your silk robe catching the light as it fans out behind you. Katsuki shifts into a firm fighting stance, his sharp eyes locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. His smirk grows wider, and you can practically feel his ego radiating off him.

Before either of you can make a move, Shoji raises his hands and declares, “No quirks may be used in the first few minutes. Only bare strength and wit!”

A collective groan erupts from the bleachers.

“Come on, Shoji!” Denki shouts, arms flailing. “What’s the point if we can’t see some explosions or ice blasts?”

“Yeah, we’re here for the chaos!” Mina adds, stomping her feet.

Shoji crosses all four of his arms and shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to see anyone else getting hurt. This rule stands.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smirk as Katsuki’s confident expression briefly falters. He tongues the inside of his cheek in frustration before throwing a scowl toward Shoji.

“That is stupid!” Katsuki snarls. “If I can’t use my quirk, what’s the point?”

Iida steps in, adjusting his glasses with an air of finality. “If you are dissatisfied with the rules, you are welcome to forfeit, King Bakugo.”

Katsuki growls, his eyes narrowing into slits as the veins in his neck bulge. 

“Like hell I’ll forfeit.”

You take advantage of the distraction, darting to a pre-prepared stash of snowballs you’d hidden behind Momo and Jirou’s old igloo. Shoji’s rule was perfect for your plan. You grab snowballs packed with pinecones, leaves, sticks, and whatever debris you could find earlier, a devious smile playing on your lips.

Katsuki turns back just as your first volley of snowballs comes flying.

“What the hell?!” he shouts, dodging the first two but getting nailed in the chest by the third. He looks down at the mess of snow and pine needles on his uniform and growls. “You think you’re clever, huh?”

You tilt your head and smirk. “I don’t think. I know.~”

Katsuki scoffs, grabbing handfuls of snow to form his own ammunition. 

“You’re toast, Empress.”

You both make a mad dash to some of Momo’s abandoned snowball machines, the sleek contraption already primed and waiting for a fight. Katsuki immediately starts shoveling snow into the top, his movements aggressive and efficient, while you mirror him on the other side.

“I’ll beseech you points for cunning,” Katsuki grumbles as he works.

“Save your compliments, consort,” you retort, setting your machine to full blast. “You shall require them for your surrender speech.”

The machine whirs to life, snowballs firing out with rapid precision. The battlefield transforms into a chaotic war zone as snowballs fly in every direction, scattering snow and debris across the once-pristine field.

“Thou art no match for my brilliance!” Katsuki taunts in his overly dramatic Shakespearean, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he loads more snow.

“Thy words are as empty as thyn head!” you snap back in your own exaggerated dialect, tossing a particularly well-packed snowball his way. It hits his chin, and the crowd erupts in laughter and cheers.

“Oooooooh!” Denki howls. “Burn!”

“Did you hear that? She’s ruthless!” Mina shouts, clutching Kirishima’s arm as they watch in awe.

You throw a smug look over your shoulder at the crowd, your hands never pausing in their work. 

“I thank thee, my loyal subjects. Thy support warms mine icy heart.”

“Focus, woman!” Katsuki shouts, catching you off guard as a snowball hits you square in the buttcheek.

“Hey!” you protest, brushing snow off your robe. “Thou art supposed to respect thy Empress!”

“Respect this!” he snaps, launching three snowballs in quick succession.

Katsuki doesn't notice as you subtly switch to the snowballs with shards of ice embedded within. While he’s busy loading his snowball machine, you line up your aim, every muscle in your body taut with anticipation. You throw with precision, and the snowball smacks him square in the face, exploding in a satisfying burst of icy snow.

The crowd gasps.

Katsuki freezes, his head tilting slightly as he wipes at his face. For a moment, you panic. 

"Hey, are you okay—"

“Don’t,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. He looks up, a sinister smirk spreading across his face. 

Before you can react, Katsuki barrels forward, closing the gap between you with shocking speed. The crowd erupts into chaos as he grabs you around the waist, hoisting you effortlessly into the air.

“Katsuki!” you shriek, flailing your arms as he pins you close.

“Ya wanna play dirty?” he snarls, his voice dripping with amusement as he shoves a handful of snow down the back of your uniform. The icy shock hits your spine, and you let out an ear-piercing squeal. 

"KATSUKI, YOU ABSOLUTE MONSTER!"

Your reflexes kick in, and you kick him square in the stomach with enough force to send him flying back a few meters. He lands in the snow, skidding just before reaching the edge of the battlefield.

“I-I almost declared you out of bounds!” Iida calls out, his hand raised in warning.

Katsuki just snarls, shaking the snow from his hair before sprinting back to the center. But you’ve already retreated to the edge of the battlefield, where your friends are crowded around, watching the scene unfold.

“Oi, little Empress!” Katsuki calls out, his voice teasing and mocking as he points a finger at you. “Had enough yet? Ready to forfeit and admit I’m the true ruler?”

You smirk, sticking your tongue out at him and blowing a loud raspberry. 

“Not in a thousand years, Your Majesty.”

Then you turn to Shoto, who stands near the edge with a curious expression. “Sho, come here for a second,” you call sweetly. Shoto tilts his head but obliges, walking over without hesitation. You lean close and whisper something in his ear, and his eyes widen slightly before narrowing in understanding.

Without another word, you begin to strip.

And the crowd collectively loses their minds.

“W-What is she doing?!” Tokoyami yelps, his face turning bright red as he averts his gaze.

“Damn, girl!” Mina cheers, clapping her hands.

Shoto quickly creates a sheet of ice to block the view of your more modest friends, while you stand confidently in nothing but your all-purpose sports bra and boy shorts. Momo rushes over, holding the silk robe she’d made you as a shield for privacy.

“Is this really necessary?” she whispers, her face flushed as she averts her gaze.

“Trust me,” you say, giving her a wink.

Even Shinsou, typically unimpressed by theatrics, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Well, that’s one way to make a statement.”

Shoto, ever the protective sibling, freezes Shinsou’s face and Katsuki’s feet in place for a few moments, just long enough to give you a head start. You blow him a quick kiss as thanks before sprinting back to the battlefield at full speed.

“WHAT IS SHE DOING?!” Sato shouts, his voice tinged with panic. Boy so scared that he dropped his croissants. “She’s going to freeze out there!” Aoyama adds, clutching his face in horror. Iida shakes his head. “The rules are the rules. I cannot intervene!” Meanwhile, Ochako and Tsu are chanting loudly, 

“GET HIS ASS! GET HIS ASS!”

Momo, Jirou, and Koda standing off to the side, are clasping their hands together in silent prayer. “Please let this plan work,” Jirou whispers, her eyes wide with worry. Katsuki finally breaks free of the ice binding his feet, his sharp gaze locking onto you as you charge toward him. His expression is a mix of confusion, irritation, and—if you squint hard enough—just the faintest trace of admiration.

“She’s officially lost it,” he mutters under his breath as you close the distance.

But you don’t care. 

You’re all in now, and Katsuki Bakugou is about to find out exactly why you’re the reigning snowball champion. Shoji clears his throat and raises his voice, signaling the resumption of the fight. 

“Combatants! The match shall continue! Hand-to-hand combat is now permitted!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, and you stride confidently back toward Katsuki, your breath misting in the frigid air. Snow crunches beneath your bare feet, and you notice Katsuki watching you with a peculiar intensity.

“Giving up on snowballs, little empress?” he taunts, his smirk as sharp as the cold wind. “What’s the plan now? Slap me to death?” You roll your eyes, closing the distance between you. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you, consort?” you fire back, the word dripping with disdain.

The second you’re close enough, you lunge, aiming a swift jab toward his ribs. Katsuki dodges with ease, his movements quick and fluid, and counters with a block that sends a shiver up your arm.

“Hand-to-hand, right?” he mutters, his grin widening. “Finally, somethin’ fun.”

You grit your teeth, throwing a quick combination of punches and kicks. Katsuki meets every move with a calculated deflection, his hand grazing your wrist as he pushes your arm aside. His eyes glint with something unreadable as his gaze locks onto yours, his smirk fading slightly.

You don’t notice at first, but Katsuki does—how the falling snow catches in your hair, shimmering like tiny crystals. Water droplets bead on your skin, snowflakes make a home along your arms and cheeks, making you look as if you’ve been carved out of ice and fire. 

His chest tightens, and for a brief moment, the fight fades into the background.

Katsuki inhales deeply, his voice soft and thoughtful as he mutters in his sharp, ancient tongue, 

“Mine Empress fair, thou look like you were made to be held... pressed against me, your head resting against my heart... my hand running through those locks of yours… my beautiful maiden.”

The way he says it, low and intimate, makes your breath hitch despite yourself. You blink up at him, stunned for just a moment before snapping back to reality.

“You think flattery will spare you, consort?” you sneer, your tone sharp. “You’ve terrorized good innocent people for too long. For that, you will be punished.”

Katsuki leans closer, his grin growing devilish. His voice drops to a teasing whisper, his warm lips brushing against your ear. 

“And what cruel punishment could a good, heavenly Empress like you give to me?”

You smirk, your tone laced with mischief. “Wouldn’t you love to find out?” you whisper back, your lips barely moving. Before Katsuki can react, you pivot sharply, twisting out of his grasp. His hand snaps out instinctively, but instead of grabbing you, all he catches is your cherry red robe.

And then you’re gone.

The entire crowd falls silent, stunned. Katsuki stands there, holding the robe, his head darting left and right as he searches for you. The tension is palpable, the air electric with suspense.

“Where did she go?” Ochako whispers, her eyes wide.

“Is this allowed?” Aoyama asks dramatically, clutching his chest.

“I… I don’t know!” Iida stammers, adjusting his glasses as he frantically flips through the makeshift rulebook Momo made for the snowball fight. Katsuki’s jaw tightens, his crimson eyes scanning the snowy battlefield. He clutches the robe tightly in his fist, his teeth gritted in frustration. 

“Where the hell are you, princess?”

The crowd begins murmuring, the students on the edge of their seats as they wait for your next move. Katsuki, however, stays frozen in place, his expression shifting ever so slightly. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—annoyance, yes, but also amusement. Maybe even admiration.

 Because as much as it drives him insane… he can’t help but respect the hell out of your strategy.

“Over here!~”

The teasing lilt in your voice draws Katsuki’s attention, and he spins around just in time to be met with—WHAM—a fist full of snow straight to the face.

The crowd collectively gasps, then bursts into laughter and cheers. “She got him!” Kirishima exclaims, doubling over with a hand on his stomach. Toru claps her hands together, barely holding herself up against Ojiro, who’s in tears from laughing too hard.

Katsuki stumbles back, snow dripping from his face as his sharp, vermillion eyes blaze with fury. “Oi, you little shit!” he roars, wiping his face as he surveys the battlefield for you.

But you’re gone.

“WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO?!” His voice echoes across the snow-covered grounds as he prowls, his breath coming out in visible puffs against the freezing air.

Unbeknownst to him, you’ve already begun your plan. While the snowfall earlier had seemed like a clever defensive trick, it was all part of a bigger setup. Every flurry you summoned, every foot of snow that blanketed the field—it was a battlefield crafted just for you.

The Bakugou household might have been a force of raw fire and explosive might, but your family? You were the master of snow and ice, the complete opposite of Touya’s raging flames. Where he burned, you moved with coldness. And now, you were ready to pull your ultimate move—one inspired by none other than Kakashi-sensei himself.

“Looking for me, husband~?” you call out from another direction, but this time Katsuki doesn’t turn around. He stays rooted, glancing sharply from side to side.

“’m not falling for that shit again!” he growls, squaring his shoulders and keeping his guard up.

That’s when you strike.

You burst up from beneath a snowbank behind him, a chunk of leftover ice from Shoto’s earlier handiwork in your hands. With a grunt, you hurl it directly at him, landing a satisfying CRACK against his sexy back.

“GAH—!” Katsuki stumbles forward, spinning around just in time to see you dive back into the snow, vanishing once more like a winter ghost.

The bleachers erupt in chaos. “SHE’S A GENIUS!” Denki howls, nearly toppling over.

“She’s insane!” Momo gasps, clutching her chest, though the admiration in her voice is clear.

“She planned this from the beginning,” Shinsou mutters with a sly grin, his eyes glued to the battlefield.

“I wouldn’t want to fight her in a blizzard,” Kirishima laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head.

Katsuki growls under his breath, his frustration mounting as he stalks the field, searching for any sign of you. But the snow is your playground, and he’s a visitor in your domain. You pop up again, this time pelting him with smaller chunks of snow and ice. Katsuki raises an arm to shield himself, barking curses as he tries to locate your next hiding spot.

“Stand still, damn it!”

“Why would I do that?” you tease, your voice echoing from every direction as you continue to throw. “You’re not fast enough to catch me, consort.”

Katsuki’s patience snaps. He’s really fucking tired of that title. “Alright, that’s it—NO MORE GAMES!” He slams his fist into the ground, the force of the impact sending snow flying in every direction.

But it’s too late. The battlefield is yours, and Katsuki’s steps grow heavier with every move he makes, his frustration boiling over as he tries—and fails—to anticipate your next strike.

You grin, your breath visible as you whisper to yourself, “This is gonna be good.”

Katsuki turns just in time to see you leap out of the snow, charging toward him with a chunk of ice in hand. 

And this time, you’re aiming straight for the crown.

Iida’s voice rings out over the snowy battlefield, his words clear and commanding,

 “Both combatants are now permitted to use their quirks!”

The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers and gasps, and you immediately dive back under the snow, disappearing before Katsuki can even react.

“Cowardice!” Katsuki bellows, his palms sparking with fiery explosions. The heat from his blasts instantly begins melting the snow around him, leaving patches of wet, slushy ground in his wake. “You think you can just keep hiding from me?!”

You know better, though. It doesn’t matter how much snow he melts—it’s still freezing. The moisture left behind immediately starts to refreeze, creating an icy battlefield that plays right into your hands. As Katsuki stomps around, you begin tunneling through the snow, heading toward the old “castle” structure that had been built earlier.

You’re focused on your path, moving swiftly and efficiently, but then you hear him—his voice is lower now, quieter, almost… teasing.

“Y’know, you can’t run forever, Empress,” Katsuki calls out, his tone dripping with a strange mix of irritation and amusement.

You pause, just for a moment, your ears perking up.

“Where’d all that big talk go, huh?” he continues, pacing the battlefield with slow, deliberate steps. 

“What happened to ‘punishing me,’ hah? You gonna stay under there forever like some scared little rabbit?”

Your lips twitch into a smirk, but you stay silent, continuing to carve your icy path.

Katsuki’s voice grows softer, almost a purr now, and the change sends a strange thrill down your spine. 

“C’mon, Princess. Don’t tell me you’re too shy to come out and play with me.”

‘Oh, he’s trying to bait me now.’

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips. Unfortunately, the sound echoes through the snow tunnel, and you freeze, cursing under your breath.

“Oh? Did I hear a laugh?” Katsuki’s voice is sharper now, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face. 

“You think this is funny, huh? You gonna giggle when I drag your little ass outta there?”

You bite your lip, your heart racing as you tunnel faster. The “castle” is just up ahead, and you’re almost there when you hear him again, closer this time.

“You’re lucky I think you’re cute, or I’d already have blown your little snow fort to pieces,” he says casually, like it’s just another fact of life.

You stop dead in your tracks, your eyes widening as heat rises to your cheeks. Did he just—

“Yeah, you heard me,” Katsuki says, his tone smug. “What? You thought I didn’t notice? You’re out here all icy and badass, but you think I don’t see how pretty you look with snow in your hair?”

You groan softly, covering your face with one hand as you try to collect yourself. 

‘Focus, focus! Don’t let him get in your head!’

You erupt from the snow with the precision of a predator, smashing a massive chunk of ice into Katsuki’s chest. The impact sends him sprawling onto the ground, a startled growl escaping his lips. The crowd gasps as you waste no time dashing toward the igloo-like structure that had been built earlier.

The moment you slip inside, the world grows quieter. 

The walls of the makeshift igloo muffle the shouts of your friends outside, leaving you surrounded by a tense, eerie silence. It’s surprisingly spacious inside, though the scattered playground equipment—jungle gyms, swings, and slides—creates a chaotic maze of obstacles.

You dart through the labyrinth, your breath visible in the frigid air as you scramble to find a good hiding spot. Finally, you spot a large tube at the far end of the igloo and slide inside, pressing your body against the cold plastic. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you try to steady your breathing, willing yourself to stay calm. You can hear him now. Katsuki’s boots crunch against the frozen ground as he steps inside the igloo, his movements slow and deliberate. He’s not rushing—he doesn’t need to. 

You’re trapped in here with him, and he knows it.

“Empress,~” he calls out, his voice low and smooth, laced with that dangerous, teasing edge. He switches to the old tongue, the words rolling off his tongue like silk. “Ya cornered yourself. What now, hmm?”

You press your lips together, holding your breath as his voice echoes through the space. The way he says your title, the way he draws it out—it’s almost hypnotic, and you hate how easily it gets under your skin.

“Running away again? Not very queenly of you,” Katsuki taunts, his footsteps crunching closer. “

Yer making this too easy. You know I’m gonna find you, right? There’s nowhere to hide.”

His tone grows sweeter, more dangerous, and you can practically feel the smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll make sure to keep you warm once I catch you. Wouldn’t want you freezing to death before I can claim my prize.”

You clench your fists, trying to ignore the way his words send a shiver down your spine. ‘Focus,’ you tell yourself. ‘He’s just trying to mess with you. Don’t let him get in your head.’

The sound of his boots grows louder, closer. He’s circling now, like a predator stalking its prey, and your heart pounds in your chest.

“You know,” he muses, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “I like this game. Just you and me, no audience, no rules.” He pauses, and you hear him chuckle softly. “I wonder how long you can keep hiding before you slip up. Or maybe…” 

“You want me to catch you?”

You grit your teeth, the heat rising to your cheeks as his words sink in. The nerve of him—assuming you’d want to lose this on purpose! You shake your head, determined to prove him wrong.

The tube feels colder against your back as you lie completely still, hoping the darkness hides you well enough. He’ll have to crawl through a maze of equipment to get to you, and with his broad shoulders and sheer size, it’ll slow him down. At least, that’s what you’re banking on.

“C’mon, Empress,” Katsuki calls out again, his voice closer now. “You can’t hide forever. Make it easy on yourself and come out.”

The sound of his boots stops suddenly, and the silence is deafening. You hold your breath, straining to listen for any sign of movement. Then, softly, he speaks again, his tone dripping with mockery and amusement. 

“What’s the matter? Afraid of what’ll happen when I catch you?”

You can’t help but smirk despite yourself. ‘Afraid?’ Not a chance. If anything, he should be afraid of what you’ve got planned next. 

You’re lying in the tube, heart pounding in your chest as you wait. You had calculated every possible move he might make. The bottom. Of course, he’d come from the bottom. But the plan falters spectacularly when a pair of strong, warm hands grab you—from above.

“Gotcha, Empress!” 

@willnetries, I passed out like 12 times but your food is ready! <33

Part 2 is right here

This was my first time trying to write the whole of class 1a into a fic and I need to lay down.

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had his baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and likes, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[candytoothed]

౨ৎ❆ ₊˚♡⊹ i smell snow - katsmas day 1

❄️︵︵　summary: getting a whiff of snow one chilly night, you persuade your grumpy neighbor to join you to watch the first snowfall of the year 🍫︵︵　notes: gilmore girls au, bakugou x reader, fluff, the rest of these cw are for ppl who havent watched the show: reader is a young mom, this is mostly dialogue tbh but a huge part of the show is how quick and witty everyone is, 🎀︵︵　word count: 1.8k

you wave and call out to your friend across the block, "night, katsukiiii!" you've known bakugou as your grumpy but somehow caring neighbor since you moved to stars hollow so many years ago. he grunts in response, dismissively throwing his hand before pulling down his scarf and disappearing into his house.

the holidays in your merry little town always filled you with joy. seeing the beautiful red and green lights adorning every lamp post, the festive cookies being sold at iida's market, and the gorgeous nutcracker ballet that mina forced her dancers to perform each year. it all combined to make you feel high-spirited. christmas time's especially meaningful as you never had experienced a proper childhood with the excitement of opening presents or building gingerbread houses, so the cheery season rekindles that sense of wonder and excitement within you.

"awe, that is soo cute! while you two are making googly eyes at each other, i'll just freeze to death. no biggie, don't worry about me..!"

you spin around with a playful roll of your eyes. "huh, i wonder where you get this dramatic flair from," you stick out your tongue to your teenage daughter, rory, waving your hand around in her face before unlocking the front door.

you drop your keys into a dish shaped like betty boop’s head, your feet tripping over each other as you make your way to the kitchen. all you hope for in this very moment is just one more chocolate pop tart to coat your tastebuds with its sweet chocolatey-ness. you swing open the fridge, stomping your foot with a pouty frown and glare when you find it nearly empty.

"ughhh nooo!! my life is overrrr, we're out of pop tarts! why didn't you grab some at iida's roryyyyyy?" you whine annoyingly, dropping yourself into a chair and dramatically burying your face into your hands. rory giggles, patting your head with mock sympathy as she walks by.

she shrugs off her fuzzy red coat with a soft tsk, "you're right, i have noo idea where i get it from!" she exclaims, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

"and by the way," she snaps her fingers, catching your attention. she lifts a silver wrapped chocolate pop tart from the counter, wiggling her eyebrows like it was obviously there (cuz it was). you gasp, your jaw dropping cartoonishly. "b-but-" you start with furrowed eyebrows only to be cut off a second later.

"since when do we keep pop tarts in the fridge?" she hums, opening the wrapper and breaking off a piece of the treat before handing you the rest.

"this is all your fault!" you huff, nibbling into the chocolate as soon as it reached your hand. "keeping them in the fridge makes them nice and coldd.. what if i didn't want to toast it? huh? what if i just wanted a cool, chilled, crazy good pop tart?"

she shrugs, utterly unbothered. "okaay, princess, i sincerely apologize,"

the rest of the evening was a blur of corny reruns from a show you and rory had stumbled upon one particularly slow night. the two of you ended up asleep on the couch, wrapped in the cocoon of a large cozy blanket. then the quiet of the night was interrupted when you awoke suddenly, your senses sharpening.

your eyes widen a little as you sniff the air, the distinct scent of something magical wafting through the room. you gasp excitedly, turning to your daughter. you shake her arm, "rory! wake up!!" you whisper-yell.

the girl whines, keeping her heavy eyes shut as she sleepily groans, "whaaaat?"

"i smell it!" you chirp, spinning your head to the window. "i smell snoww!!!"

you get up and tumble to the window, dragging the fluffy blanket along with you followed by a squeak from rory at the sudden chill. you push aside your pink curtain, peering at the night sky. "i love snow..!" you squeal. "everything's magical when it snows, like the world's wearing a big fat sparkly dress!"

"when is it coming down?" rory yawns, shuffling over to you sleepily.

"in like a half hour.. i'm so excited!!" your eyes fixed on the dark sky.

rory whines again, her face scrunched as she let out another long yawn. "i’m tiredddd, m going back to sleep. take pictures." she huffs, waddling back to her bedroom.

you pout after her, still gazing out the window, your heart filled with anticipation.

you don't like watching the first snowfall of the year alone. you always do it with someone whether its a boyfriend or rory. you huff, folding your arms and thinking of what to do. it's then you remember katsuki-- even though he goes to sleep early, he'll still watch with you, right? he’d do this one simple thing for you-- he's always doing stuff much grander for your benefit anyway.

so you grab a post-it and scribble down a quick note to rory in case she wakes up, leaving it under her door. you pull on your babyish pink swan hat and coat before hurrying out the door and making your way to your neighbor's.

you knock once, twice, and almost a third time before the door opens. bakugou stands there, looking entirely too put-together for someone who’s clearly just woken up.

“what?” he grumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

“we’re gonna miss it!--” you exclaim, your words practically bursting with urgency.

he grunts, "if yer talkin about sleep, then yah."

"nono, cmonnn!! we gotta goo, it's gonna snow!" you hop from foot to foot with barely contained excitement.

he scoffs with a deep frown, "fuck no, its fuckin freezin."

you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "pleaseeee! for lil ol me? ill buy more coffee and- and- and you'll get soo rich!" you nod enthusiastically with a cheesy grin.

he rolls his eyes, grabbing his coat off the hook with a sigh. "no, ya don't need any more damn coffee in yer system. already give ya more than i should."

you squeal with delight, grabbing his arm and tugging him outside. “hooray! hurry, hurry!!”

he regrets this. the two of you have been standing outside for ten minutes for this stupid snow, and there's been nothing.

"the forecast didn't predict shit." katsuki huffs, his hot breath visible in the cold air.

you don't acknowledge him, too distracted by the anticipation. “i love flakes, flurries, swirls, crystals... me and snow, we have a beautiful history,” you muse, your voice full of fond nostalgia.

the blond lets out an exasperated sigh. “saw two fuckin forecasts, and neither of ‘em said anything about snow,” he growls, shivering as you still cling to his arm.

katsuki stares ahead blankly before doing a double take towards you. he scoffs with a light chuckle. "didya get yer hat from carter's?" he mocks your babyish pink swan hat, but you ignore him, tapping his arm insistently. "it's coming, i know it is.. i'm never ever wrong," your tone unwavering, he watches you gaze at the night sky, his eyes filled with a mixture disbelief and a little something else. he's shamefully endeared by your childlike wonder, even if it is annoying at times-- almost like dealing with a very persistent, stubborn child.

“it needs to come fasterrr...” you whine, blinking at the sky, willing the magical snow to appear.

“oh, geez, ya want it to come faster?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm-- until you realize he wasn't planning on hearing your witty response. without another word uttered, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours. no words, no warning, just a quiet, unspoken understanding that he’s been waiting for this moment.

he's the one who pulls back just a few seconds later, his face flushed from the cold december air and his flustered nerves. you don't say anything. you simply stare at the blond with eyes that long to hear him speak, say anything. you've never seen this side of bakugou with you before, and it makes you nervous.

meanwhile he's bracing himself for impact, thinking he probably just fucked up your eight year friendship.

"say somethin please.." he mutters, his voice low. you exhale sharply before grabbing his hand. you don't know what you're about to say, your mind’s a jumble of thoughts, emotions too tangled to make sense of just yet. you’re not sure what to make of this, or if you even want to. you know katsuki, and you know how much of a burden you can be. you can't explore something that you already know won't last. especially not with him.

and then, as if the universe is offering you a sign, the first snowflake falls—delicate and perfect, followed by another, and another. the sky’s doing its part, now it’s up to you.

still holding his hand, you feel your heart beat louder in your chest. "told you snow’s magical," you whisper, your gaze locked on his. but his eyes refuse to meet yours. they dart nervously around the ground beneath him. the tension radiating from him causes his hand to feel stiff in yours. snow begins to fall more steadily, and one delicate snowflake lands on the bridge of his nose, making him flinch in surprise. you can't help the soft giggle that escapes you.

"yknow for a guy who spends every day in his diner.. you're not a bad kisser," you can't help the wide grin that displays itself on your lips at his fidgety, awkward reaction. his hand tightens around yours. "shut up asshole," he grunts, meeting your eyes finally.

"you're not just gonna.. brush past what happened are you?" you ask, trying to sound casual, but there's a note of worry in your voice, hoping he didn't just kiss you to shut you up. you study him cautiously with a tilt of your head.

you giggle again when an offended expression flashes across his face. "no!!? i thought you were gonna do that!"

you bite your lip softly, your shyness suddenly reappearing. "i think m gonna go inside.." you start, still holding his hand. "i'll see you tomorrow,"

he hums, his thumb unintentionally rubbing your soft hand. "what happened to not brushing past it?"

you grin, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. he exhales slowly, his face turning red again. you smile toothily, "it's my turn to make the next move, so you'll just haveta be patient," you tease, pulling away from him to walk back in your house.

he watches you adorably wave goodbye right before you let out a girly giggle and quietly step inside. the blond can't help the tiny smile that's forced out as he lifts his head to the snow-falling sky. and then he whispers very quietly, hoping none of his nosy neighbors see him talk to himself like an idiot,

"i want a beautiful relationship with her too."

[mikaylathenerd5]

COACH ROMAN IN FULL PROTECTIVE MODE - Headcanon🐝💻🏈

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Coach Roman is deep in his she’s mine and I’ll ruin your academic career for her era.

This man is skipping film review to bring her granola bars. He’s printing her published research and taping it to the locker room like it’s a damn scouting report. A freshman flirted once—he transferred. Toby disrespected Isla’s scarf—he got a lecture.

He’s protective, petty, and fully domesticated. And he’s doing it all in Georgia Tech sweats with a clipboard in one hand and baby name suggestions in the other.

These 20 headcanons are full of soft threats, low growls, and a man so gone for his woman that HR may or may not have questions. Reblog at your own risk. You will fall in love with him:

Isla bends down to grab her charger during a faculty mixer. Roman watches a TA stare too long. Doesn’t say a word—just adjusts his stance so his entire 6'3 frame blocks her from view.

Isla gets a headache during finals week. Roman cancels his own practice, shows up with Advil, coconut water, and that specific granola bar she likes.

An undergrad makes a TikTok thirst trap about Isla after seeing her at a lecture. Roman sees it. The TikTok vanishes within 48 hours. The student transfers to remote learning.

Isla mentions walking to her car alone at night one time. Roman now picks her up from campus every evening—even if he has meetings. “You can be independent, and I can still give a damn.”

He downloads Find My iPhone and never admits he checks it unless she’s out late. “Just making sure you’re not dealing with one of your circuits exploding or whatever.”

Isla’s talking to her old classmate at a tech conference. Roman walks up behind her mid-sentence, hand around her waist, low voice: “Hey, babe. You good?” The man clears his throat and walks away.

Someone at the university calls her “Mrs. Reigns” by accident. Roman doesn’t correct them. Just smirks and says, “Not yet.”

Isla’s research gets picked up by an academic journal. Roman prints out the article, highlights her name, and tapes it to the team bulletin board with: “Best thing to ever happen to this school.”

Toby gets tangled in Isla’s favorite scarf. Roman carefully untangles him, folds the scarf, then proceeds to give the cat a full lecture on respecting women and their property.

Roman doesn’t say “I love you” often. But he says “I got you,” “You’re not doing this alone,” and “If anyone ever makes you cry again, I’m not calling HR first.”

Isla’s advisor once “jokingly” suggested she scale back her workload now that she was pregnant. Roman showed up to the next department mixer, stood silently behind Isla while she presented her research, and smiled like a lion watching someone dare to get too close to his mate.

Roman has a whole Google Calendar blocked out as “Isla Time.” If anyone asks to schedule a meeting during those hours, he replies with: “Unavailable. Period.”

Isla forgets to eat lunch during a coding sprint. Roman walks into the lab with takeout and glares at everyone like they should’ve reminded her.

A freshman nervously handed Isla a note after class that said “I think you’re beautiful.” She didn’t even get the chance to tell Roman—he found it crumpled in her bag while grabbing her laptop. The next day, Roman stood outside her lecture hall with his arms crossed and a very visible Georgia Tech staff badge. The freshman turned around and dropped the class.

Isla was walking too long at an alumni event. Roman literally crouched down and rubbed her ankles in front of two Deans like it was normal. “You’re carrying our child. Let ‘em stare.”

When Isla felt insecure about her growing body, Roman kissed every stretch mark. “This is what strong looks like, baby. You’re the strongest person I know.”

He once stopped in the middle of a coaching huddle because Isla texted “baby kicked so hard I saw stars.” He walked off the field. No explanation. Came back 10 minutes later like it never happened.

A tenured professor called Isla “emotional.” Roman leaned over the faculty lunch table and calmly said, “You’ve never carried something worth fighting for, huh?” The table went silent. Isla never had to deal with that man again.

Roman secretly installed extra locks and a camera outside Isla’s apartment before she moved in with him. “Just in case,” he said. She rolled her eyes—then hugged him for three minutes straight.

Isla jokes that he’s overprotective. Roman shrugs. “You’re the love of my life. I don’t do casual when it comes to you.”

📝 Author’s Note: Y’all… I’ve been thinking about feral, overprotective, but soft-for-one-woman Coach Roman all day and couldn’t hold this in any longer 😮‍💨 He’s got his headset on, a clipboard in one hand, and Isla's name written all over his soul. This headcanon lives rent-free in my brain, and now it lives in yours too. You're welcome 🫶🏽

Your reblogs, tags, and asks keep me writing—thank you so much for engaging with my work! 💛

Your support means the world. Seriously. Gracias, amores. 🫶🏽

✎ written by your local emotionally destroyed girl who believes Coach Reigns would absolutely cancel practice for his pregnant Isla