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Inveigle

Of all the secrets Hawks had been ordered to keep - his name, his lineage, his true reason for becoming a hero, his kill count - there’s one that’s been drilled harder than the rest. One that, if spilled, would put Hawks in more danger than any mission.

Winged Hero: Hawks, Japan’s most eligible bachelor and number two hero, was an omega.

So, it’s no surprise that Madam President’s latest mission for Hawks comes as a shock.

Word count: 6468

Part: 1/2

Rating: Mature

~~~

“You want me to what?” Hawks balked.

“You heard me.” Madam President's fingers rap, rap, rapped the desk impatiently.

“I heard you,” he said, “but I don’t understand.”

She sighed, leaned forward in her creaking office chair to rest her elbows on the desk and steeple her hands. “You’re the only one we can trust with this.”

A twitch ghosted through his feathers, an ingrained response to praise.

“How do you know it’ll work?” He asked, stalling despite knowing just how useless it was.

“Sources.”

“Sources?”

A long silence followed.

“He’s an alpha,” she finally offered, “and unmated.”

Hawks’ stomach churned. “Maybe he doesn’t want an omega.” It was a feeble assertion, he knew. Every anatomy lesson he’d been forced to sit through had hammered one truth home – every alpha wanted an omega, and little could stand in their way when one caught their eye. The flat look on Madam Presidents face showed Hawks just how futile it was to argue the point.

Yet…

“What if he doesn’t want a male omega,” he stressed, pressing a gloved hand to his chest.

Here, she smiled, and the curling in Hawks’ gut turned near painful. “Oh, he does. Our sources are fairly certain that’s why he’s still unmated.”

Fairly certain. Not a guarantee, not a promise.

Just like all his missions.

Yet this one felt so much more final.

“He won’t believe me if I just… walk up to him without any blockers.”

Hiding his second gender had never been easy. Since presenting, he’d followed a heavy regime of scent blocking meds and heat suppressants like his life depended on it. Because it did. Scent blocking patches were practically a second skin now, and he never showered without pheromone-free shampoo and body wash. Even his costume had been designed with his body in mind – compressing his curves and hiding hips too wide to be anything but omegean.

But he had managed to hide it, and showing up as his true self when the public believe anything but was a good way to get himself roasted on the spot.

She shook her head and shuffled through a few papers. “No, you’ll be weaned off slowly. It’ll create the illusion of trust.”

Hawks blinked. “And my heats?” Since he’d presented, he’d been allotted four per year, and only ever with a commission approved beta, never the same one twice. Surely he’d be due for another one before his mission was up.

“We’re cutting back your dosage on suppressants as well. A little less every day until you no longer need to take them.”

“So-“

“So, by the time your body realizes it’s back in control, you’ll need to have him in your thrall.”

Hawks swallowed.

“Take this” - she handed him a mission file - “and head down to medical for your new prescriptions.”

Thumbing through the near-empty file, dread crept in.

Madam President made no attempt to alleviate his worries as she walked him to the door, but why would she? They may have danced around his purpose once upon a time after he’d presented – adding new lessons and sessions with specialists – and claiming it was simply in the interest of making Hawks a well-rounded hero, but Hawks hadn’t gotten this far without learning to interpret the unspoken. This was to be his magnum opus, and that it had taken until now for the commission to deploy him in this way was a testament to how serious this mission was.

“Hawks.” She stopped, hand on the doorknob, and met him head on. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Hawks nodded and set his expression to mask the whirlwind of thoughts behind it.

“Remember, all of Japan is depending on you to take Dabi off the board before the coming war.” She pulled the door open and offered him a parting pat on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

~~~

Finding Dabi was easier than Hawks had imagined it would be. After starting with a vague connection and going through several someone’s removed, Hawks had a time and location to meet the villain in less time than his visit with the commission’s omegean doctor had taken.

To be fair to the doctor though, there was a lot of information to go over regarding the way Hawks’ body was supposed to work and the issues he might face as it tried to take control back from the medications. Thirty days, she had predicted, until his scent would present strongly enough to permeate the patches. Which gave him just thirty days to earn Dabi’s trust and gain entry to the heart of the league – and the alpha.

His heat cycle had been more of a guess than a prediction - three months, maybe less, until his body attempted a cycle on it’s own.

More uncertainties.

Salty sea-spray pelted his skin as he rocked up on his toes, already feeling jittery over the mission and the change in his suppressants and blockers.

There was only one thing he knew for sure - he would never be the same person after this mission.

Watching the ocean crash against the warped dock where Hawks had been instructed to meet Dabi, he let a wave gather up that realization and carry it away, before turning to the thunk of boot-steps over wood that his feathers had been tracking for the last few minutes.

“Dabi,” he said with practiced ease, “thanks for coming.”

Dabi planted his feet on the dock, leaving a solid five feet between them. He didn’t say a word, just assessed Hawks the way the commission had so many times - top to bottom and back up, a glance at the wings, the neck.

Hawks did his best to remain still, to present an interesting but unimposing posture, to communicate “common ground” through expression alone.

Whatever Dabi had been looking for, he didn’t find it. He turned on his heel — “no” — and left Hawks to stare at Dabi’s rather impressively broad shoulders until he remembered his mission.

“What do you mean, no?” Hawks ran to catch up, nearly jogging to keep up with Dabi’s long strides. Subtly, he inched closer, trying to see if he could tell where he’d gone wrong in his scent, but there was nothing. Just the salty spray of ocean-side air, a faint hint of fish, and the fumes of the nearby factory.

Odd. Hawks hadn’t taken Dabi for the kind of alpha to keep his pheromones in check.

Then again, what he knew about the villain wouldn’t fill a thimble.

“Let’s just chat a minute. I can tell you why-“

“Stop.” Dabi rounded on Hawks, blue eyes blazing. “I don’t care why. You’re not what we need.”

With a flourish bordering on dramatic, Dabi turned and disappeared behind a maze of masts and hulls bobbing on the water.

And Hawks… Hawks was left rooted to the spot by surprise. No one had ever walked away from him like that. No one had ever out right refused to hear him out.

Never had Hawks failed a mission so spectacularly on day one.

When the shock wore off, Hawks took off into the skies, and with the wind breezing through his feathers, used the airtime to puzzle out a new strategy.

He couldn’t lure Dabi back with his scent and currently had little to offer as an omega that he thought an alpha might want, but there had to be something. And whatever that something was, he needed to find it fast.

Only twenty-nine days to go.

~~~

It took Hawks three days to find Dabi again. Three agonizing days spent reliving their first meeting and trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong, while putting on a good – but not too good - show of heroics for the public. So, when Hawks finally dropped out of the sky into an alley that smelled vaguely of burning bodies - a coppery tang mixed with something sickly sweet - he didn’t fault himself for being more than a little on edge.

��Dabi, hey!” Hawks approached slowly, ignoring the smoking pile behind the villain. “Been looking for you.”

Dabi didn’t even turn from his funeral pyre. “Go away.”

Rejection - Hawks had expected that. What he didn’t expect was an odd little quiver in his belly.

Weird, but probably just a side effect of his change in suppressants and blockers. It wasn’t the first odd feeling he’d noticed over the last few days.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, trying for a playful sort of disarming. “I think I can help you.”

“Doubt that, hero.” Dabi spat the last word. “Go back to your patrol or whatever the hell you do all day before I roast you.”

A wave of heat funneled through the narrow alley, a warning that set Hawks’ nerves on fire. Sweat trailed down his neck, soaking into the collar of his commission issued unitard. But he didn’t move. And curiously, neither did Dabi.

Already too far behind in his mission not to press this kind of progress, Hawks tried again. “I know you’re recruiting for something. And I want in.”

Dabi turned, his smile sinister as it stretched staples and skin. “You want in?” He advanced, boot-steps heavy crunching over something brittle, a sound Hawks felt in his own bones. “What makes you think we want you?”

Again, Hawks’ stomach quivered, but he held his ground.

“I can be useful.”

“Ha!” Dabi’s bark of laughter bounced off the brick around them. “Useful? A hero?” He folded his arms over his chest. “We’re not saving kittens and signing tits. We’re changing society. Eliminating people like you. You won’t cut it.”

“I’ve never signed-“ Hawks shook his head, not the point. “I want things to change too.” He met Dabi’s gaze head on and with practiced sincerity, tried to sell his pre-planned vision. “I want a world where heroes have too-“

“Too much time on their hands?” Dabi sneered. “Try harder.”

Hawks blinked. “I… but it’s true.” Mostly true, at least. True enough truth to it to make it believable - the foundation of a good lie, as he’d been taught. If that didn’t work on Dabi, then…

“It’s bullshit.” Dabi stepped closer, invading Hawks’ space.

Every feather itched with the instinct to harden, but as always, Hawks pushed his instinct aside. He forced himself to remain still, to hold his ground.

“You’re becoming a pain in my ass,” Dabi snarled. “I thought it would be more trouble to outright kill you, but maybe I should if you’re going to keep-“ he stopped, chest freezing mid-breath. Heat flared from his body.

A beat passed. Neither of them moved. Hawks couldn’t blink, could barely breathe with how close Dabi was.

And then Dabi stepped back, expression shifting through emotions too fast for even Hawks to make sense of until Dabi finally settled on one - anger. “The answer’s no.”

Coat tail snapping, Dabi turned and stormed out of the alley. Hawks stumbled back, hit the wall and when he was sure he was alone, sank down to a crouch as he waited for his racing pulse to settle.

Again, he’d failed his mission.

Again, he’d failed to scent any hint of what Dabi was feeling through his pheromones.

But there had been something this time.

What that was though, Hawks had no clue.

He groaned, ripping off his visor and running a hand through his hair. Dabi couldn’t have scented him, not this soon, but something had knocked the villain off balance. If only for a moment. If Hawks could just figure out what it had been…

While he was at it, why not add another mystery to his list - why had his stomach done that, that thing when Dabi rejected him? Was it a simple omegean response? Was it an issue with his meds?

Too many questions. No answers.

“Fuck.” His head tipped back to hit the brick.

Just twenty-six days to go.

~~~

Five days passed since Hawks last meeting with Dabi. If he could even call it a meeting.

His wings straightened to catch a current, casting a long shadow over the city streets below. Eyes narrowed, he scanned every alley for a hint of blue, a flicker of fire, a sign of smoke, and once again found nothing.

He’d been flying all over the city for the last five days in search of one very broody alpha, stopping for a bit of hero work here and there, and very pointedly avoiding his agency, the HPSC, and home. No way could he report that nearly two weeks into his mission he’d only managed to piss the target off.

But the long days and late nights were wearing on him. His wings ached, eyes burned, and his mind had turned into a muddied mess. He wanted nothing more than his soft sheets and goose feather pillows, a shower for the sweat coating his skin, a meal.

He shook his head, no time for creature comforts when-

“Ow!” His hand shot to his lower stomach, pressing against the sudden sharp ache there. “Ow, what the-“ his wings faltered, altitude dipped. It felt like, like someone had just stabbed him straight in the guts and twisted the knife to tear apart all his vital insides.

Another stab. A twist. Both hands pressed against the gaping, bloody wound he was sure someone had managed to inflict today. Hawks’ wings folded in to cradle him.

And he fell.

Hawks broke his fall, fast enough not to break bone, slow enough to land, hard, on the roof below.

His knees buckled, teeth snapped together, nicking his tongue. Blood flooded his mouth as he bent over, groaning in pain.

Fuck, he didn’t think he’d been hit today. He’d only handled small fry, petty theft, a couple vandals, nothing-

“The fuck is wrong with you.”

Oh no. Why here? Why now?

Hawks forced himself to sit up and tried for a smile. “O-oh, hey, Dabi. What are you doing up here?”

Dabi took a long drag of his cigarette, eyeing Hawks with something that looked a lot like amusement. “I asked first.”

Hawks’ pain radiated from abdomen to back, a burning ache that was slightly more bearable but no less concerning. “I just, uh…” Hawks looked up to the early-evening sky he’d just been a part of. Pastel streaks of pink and orange painted a peaceful scene he longed to return to.

But the mission came first, especially when he was this far behind.

“I fell.”

Dabi snorted. Tapped his cigarette on the waist-high wall. “No shit.”

“I… “ Hawks shifted to his knees. Truth or lie? Which would earn him Dabi’s favor? “I’m tired,” he tried, “and I guess I must have gotten hurt at some point today.” He rubbed his neck. Had he taken a hit? The last few days had blurred together into one distorted chunk of time he couldn’t quite make sense of. There had been a guy with a knife, but Hawks was sure that was days ago.

Dabi took another drag, letting silence build between them. A siren sounded somewhere close, a block away by Hawks’ measure, setting his senses on edge.

Hawks grit his teeth, refusing to give more until he got a little back, and finally something he tried paid off.

“I’m smoking.”

Okay, so Dabi liked blunt truth? Hawks could do that.

“No shit.”

Dabi’s brow rose slowly. His hand fell to his side. Wisps of slow-rising smoke danced around his fingers as he studied Hawks.

Oh shit. Hawks’ pulse tripped over a beat. Had he read Dabi wrong? Pushed too far?

He shifted, ignored the pain that shot across his lower back with the move. What should he say? What could he say? Dabi was so damn hard to read, aside from his anger. His expression was so… blank.

A good dozen feet separated them - too far to pick up a scent, not that it would do Hawks any good based on his last few tries. It wasn’t too far for his feathers to read vitals, but Dabi’s were level, shockingly low even. No spike of adrenaline, no uptick in his heart rate.

It was honestly maddening. Hawks had spent enough time around alphas to know this wasn’t normal, and he’d learned from a very, very early age that one wrong look might land you face down in the dirt thanks to some stupid knothead.

So why was Dabi so different?

Hawks sighed, apology on the tip of his tongue, when-

“So” — Dabi snuffed his cigarette out on the low wall and tossed it over the edge; Hawks bit his tongue to keep from berating Dabi — “who managed to hurt you? Aren’t you supposed to be really fucking fast or something?”

Hawks tipped his head, pulling a muscle in his neck a pinch too tight. He winced.

“Or maybe you did it to yourself,” Dabi added, not cruelly, but not kindly either.

Hawks took a deep breath and pushed himself to stand. “I’m not sure.” He slowly rolled his spine straight. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

Dabi hummed in agreement but offered nothing else.

“So…” Hawks pressed his palm to his neck, unsure where to go from here. He needed to keep Dabi talking, to build a little trust, but Dabi was already turning away, eyeing the fire escape like his salvation from the dumpster fire of a hero who’d interrupted his evening.

Shit. He couldn’t leave. Not yet.

Without a word, Dabi headed for the ladder. Panic pricked at Hawks’ nerves, set his mouth in motion faster than his thoughts. “So, you smoke?” he blurted.

Lame. It was absolutely the lamest thing that had ever left his mouth and there was no way that would ke-

Dabi laughed, deep and raspy. To Hawks, it sounded painful, like the scrape of fabric over an open wound, or the pull of an ill-exercised muscle, but when Dabi turned back around, there was nothing but amusement in his expression. “Seriously, what’s your deal, hero?”

The title sounded like less of an insult this time. Hawks was going to consider that progress.

“My deal?” He shifted on sore feet. “What do you mean?”

Dabi leaned his hip against the wall and crossed his arms. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve been looking for me.”

Hawks mirrored Dabi’s casual pose, mindful of his pain-points. “I told you already.”

“And I told you no. You that bad at listening?”

Hawks shrugged and tried for an easy smile. “Only when I want something.”

The air around Dabi rippled with heat, there and gone in a beat. “That so,” he purred, igniting a warmth in Hawks’ belly to rival the white-hot pain in his back.

He hadn’t meant anything suggestive, not yet, but if it worked… Hawks took a tentative step forward. “Will you reconsider?”

Dabi was silent. Eyes trained on Hawks’ approach.

Hawks swallowed, and for the first time since he’d presented, he called on a different kind of HPSC training - seduction. He lowered his chin, looked up through his lashes, took a small step closer. Dabi was stone-still, barely breathing, heart ticking ever-so-slightly faster.

Another step. Another smile, this one a touch shy. A breeze at Hawks’ back ruffled his feathers, teased his hair over his eyes.

Dabi’s hands dropped to fist at his sides.

God Hawks hoped he was doing this right. For so long, he’d pushed this side of himself down, buried it under the pretense of bravado and feigned alpha arrogance. His past missions had always relied on his carefully cultivated skills of deception. There had never been reason to use this side of himself, and with his instincts still buried, without the real-world practice of acting like a normal omega, he had only the commission’s pre-approved videos and a beta instructor’s limited imagination for role play to fall back on.

Yet…

With the steady increase in Dabi’s pulse, the subtle temperature difference Hawks noted as he took another step, the fact that Dabi hadn’t left (or killed him), Hawks thought he must be doing something right.

Or he was, until Dabi took a step back.

“No means no, hero. You of all people should understand that.” Dabi spun and headed for the fire escape like he was fleeing an actual fire. He swung a leg over the railing.

Shit! Hawks stumbled after him. Dabi couldn’t get away, not again. Not when Hawks had been making-

“But-“

Hawks halted.

“If you manage to find me again,” Dabi said, looking over his shoulder at Hawks, “I might reconsider.”

And then he was gone.

This time, however, Dabi didn’t leave Hawks with the fear of failure hanging over his head. And as Hawks finally flew home to eat and shower, to take a shit ton of aspirin for his myriad of aches, and to call the doctor after finding no trace of a wound on his stomach, it was with a buzz of excitement, something that went deeper than pride in his work. Something at a cellular level.

Long after the sun had called it a day, Hawks crawled into bed with a heating pad for his stomach like the doctor had advised and replayed every minute of his meeting with Dabi. He’d done something right today, not as a hero, but as a spy - maybe as an omega too - and he needed to figure out what it was so he could wield it more effectively next time.

He closed his eyes, and drifted into dreams that painted an entirely different ending to his meeting today, and the remaining twenty-one days he had.

~~~

It was with fifteen days down - and only fifteen to go before Hawks’ scent permeated his patches and revealed what he was to Dabi - that Hawks finally found the villain again. But it wasn’t somewhere he’d thought to search - like a dark alley or deserted seaside dock outside of town – and it wasn’t with a flame in hand or a pile of smoldering bodies at Dabi’s back.

No, Hawks found Dabi in the park, or rather, behind the food trucks in the park, with a cup of soba and chopsticks in hand, and the scenic view of the river bridge at his back.

“Dabi?”

Dabi looked up, eyes wide and noodles dangling out of his mouth, and for a moment they just… stared. Hawks hadn’t expected this. He’d only stopped because he’d been patrolling nearby and, well, he was hungry. Starving really - another irritating side effect of his change in medication. But he was not about to pass up an opportunity to turn life’s lemons into lemonade.

He slipped between the trucks Dabi was (poorly) hiding behind. “Hey, I finally found you!”

Dabi snapped out of his shock. He slurped the noodles into his mouth and sputtered, pounding his chest.

“Woah” — Hawks hurried over, hero training taking charge — “let me he-“

“Stop,” Dabi croaked. He turned away to cough but held up a hand in warning.

Hawks stopped, mostly. Using the distraction, he slipped a feather around Dabi’s back and hovered it just out of sight to monitor breathing and heart rate. Dabi couldn’t choke, not when their progress last time had given Hawks an arsenal of new ideas to try.

An eternity of seconds passed before Dabi finally straightened and glared at Hawks. “What do you want,” he rasped.

Dipping into his arsenal, Hawks tipped his head and innocently said, “you told me to find you.”

“I didn’t- you weren’t supposed to-“ Dabi huffed. “Whatever.”

Internally, Hawks grinned. Externally, he blinked just shy of batting his lashes, a tactic he’d been perfecting in the mirror for the last few days.

“Why are you here?”

“I was hungry.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes. “Hungry?”

“Hungry.”

“And you just happened to stop here to eat?”

“I saw they had yakitori.” Hawks shrugged and chanced a step left - a little further behind the cover of a truck that smelled of smoky cabbage and meat, a little closer to Dabi. “And I was in the area.”

Dabi tapped his foot. The feather picked up a slight flutter in his pulse.

“So, soba?” Hawks knew better than to broach the subject of joining the league right away, and as painful as it was with so little time left, he eased into their conversation. Warmed Dabi up, so to speak. “It any good?”

Dabi said nothing.

“I’m guessing there’s a truck here that specializes in it,” Hawks pushed on, leaning a little closer, relaxing his wings.

Dabi watched Hawks like, well, a hawk, but offered no answer. For a man who ran so hot, he could be chillingly cold.

But Hawks had planned for the silence.

“I didn’t see one though.” He lifted a hand to his neck, rubbed at a scent gland that was obnoxiously itchy and irritated now - another annoying side effect apparently - and caught Dabi tracking his every move. “Otherwise, I might have bought that instead of-“

“Fucks sake, here.”

Dabi shoved his cup into Hawks’ chest and then turned away to face the river. Not before Hawks caught a hint of red on the healthy skin of Dabi’s cheeks though.

Hawks stared down at the half-eaten noodles. His plan had worked, exceeded his expectations, in fact, but had an unintended outcome. His stomach had started on an odd sort of gymnastics routine, stirring a slow-stretching warmth in his center. Was it because no one had ever shared their food with him? Was it because an alpha had shared their food with him?

Cradling the cup in his hands, Hawks found his words far slower than normal. “I- um, thank you. I wasn’t trying to ask for yours.”

“Whatever. It was just to shut you up.”

“Still” - Hawks glanced at Dabi’s profile, eyed the rapid rise and fall of his well-built chest - “I’m sure food is hard to come by for you. You didn’t-“

“Do you want the damn noodles or not?” Dabi snapped.

“I-“ Hawks looked down. No, he didn’t want them. In fact, he hated soba. But…

“Yes, I want them,” Hawks said resolutely, though he didn’t know why. He didn’t want to eat them… but he couldn’t fathom throwing them away either. He held the cup a little closer.

Was this an omega thing?

He looked up. “Thank y….”

Oh.

Dabi was closer now, looming almost, blocking out the high-noon sun at his back and casting a shadow over Hawks. But rather than menacing it seemed… sweet? Like the furrow in his brow was concern, not irritation, and the way he watched Hawks was in anticipation, rather than aggravation.

Was this an alpha thing?

“Make sure you eat that,” Dabi said, softer than Hawks had heard yet, barely audible over the burbling river and the sounds of lunch rush surrounding them. Hawks nodded, lost for words, fighting the urge to shrink not away, but into Dabi. The skin around his scent gland tingled, burned almost.

He lifted a hand to his neck to try and massage away the distracting feeling, but Dabi caught his wrist.

Hawks swallowed a gasp.

With fingers that had wreaked nothing but death and destruction, Dabi held Hawks’ gently. His thumb brushed the inside of Hawks’ wrist over the glove.

Hawks’ heart forgot its rhythm. Heat curled in his core.

Pulling Hawks’ glove back, Dabi’s focus settled on the skin he was slowly revealing.

Instinct urged Hawks to close the small space between them, to bask in the warmth Dabi emanated. Breathing deep, desperate to know what Dabi felt through scent, he tipped his head ever-so-slightly to the left, wanting… wanting what? To submit? To give in and let this alpha know exactly who he was? Fear and exhilaration warred for control. Is this what it was to be an omega? Was he supposed to like this? Did he?

Maybe he would, if he was a prop-

Dabi stepped back, blew out a steamy breath and swore.

Embarrassment snuffed out the heat Dabi had kindled in Hawks. His hand dropped lamely to his side. “Sorry, I…” his words tapered off. What was he sorry for? For not being omega enough to keep Dabi close? For his own lack of understanding? For another failure in his mission? For-

“Don’t,” Dabi cut off Hawks’ spiraling thoughts. “It’s- are you…” Okay, so Dabi was just as lost as Hawks. A small comfort, he supposed. “Never mind.”

Dabi put another step of space between them and eyed his exit. “Give me your number.”

The conversational whiplash hit Hawks hard. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Dabi pulled out his phone. “Or do you not want in anymore?”

Hawks blinked. Right. The mission. How the hell could he have forgotten?

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He fumbled to pull out his phone. “Okay, what’s yours.” Ignoring the dozen missed calls from the HPSC, he popped open a new contact. “I’ll text you mi-“

“No.” Dabi was a single step away from slipping back into the crowd. “I’ll take yours and think about it.”

“But” — Hawks looked up, thumb hovering over the screen — “you said-“

“I said if you found me, I’d reconsider. That’s it.”

If Dabi wasn’t watching so closely, Hawks would have rolled his eyes, damn alpha and his semantics. He pocketed his phone and rattled his number off.

Dabi offered nothing but a small nod before he slipped between the trucks and melted into the crowd of civilians snacking on their street food.

Not before Hawks slipped his feather into Dabi’s back pocket though. Rattled as he was, he didn’t miss that Dabi hadn’t written the number down or made any attempt to repeat it. With only fifteen days to go, and just one shared moment that might have been significant, he couldn’t risk letting Dabi elude him for so long again.

Trying to ignore his feather’s journey across the city (for now), Hawks sighed and stepped up to the fence to watch the free-flowing river. He set the noodles down to massage his neck and sank into thought.

Was today significant?

Clearly, he’d gotten through to some part of Dabi, but something felt… off. Was that the medication too? Or maybe a reaction to his hero instinct being slowly shoved aside in favor of something far more primal?

He couldn’t say. All he knew was that time was running low and he couldn’t afford to let feeling impede any sort of progress. And - his stomach growled, loud and angry - he also knew he was hungry. Again.

He eyed the soba, and despite his normal revulsion for it, dug in just as Dabi had instructed. This time around though, he found the food oddly satisfying.

One more change for him to puzzle over later tonight.

He finished the meal quickly and trashed his cup before taking to the skies.

Using the open space and fresh air, he cleared his head before finally turning his attention to his missed calls and a long overdue half-way report for Madam President, hoping to sell some kind of progress in his mission and find a way forward for his remaining fifteen days.

~~~

Madam President had not considered Hawks’ report as progress, but she hadn’t labeled his mission a total failure either - mostly thanks to his quick thinking with the feather, his (reluctant) disclosure of the moment he’d shared with Dabi, and his insistence that the villain would bolt if Hawks moved too quickly.

She had agreed to let Hawks continue to handle things his way and left him to his mission. For now, at least.

So, he gave it time, three days, in fact, before heading over to the area of the city where he felt Dabi’s feather and starting an evening patrol.

The idea had come to him late last night while he was deep in thought about the alpha (a place he found himself visiting more often these days). He thought, maybe a bit foolishly, that if he happened to run into Dabi again, he could build on their progress from last time.

Surprise had disarmed Dabi then, and he had been the one to bring up Hawks joining the league, so it was with a rush of faith in his plan that Hawks dropped down onto the streets and folded his wings at his back.

His feather was four blocks over, unmoving aside from what might be the tap of Dabi’s foot against pavement. Whatever the alpha was up to, he was agitated.

That thought definitely shouldn’t have put a smile on Hawks’ face, but nothing about his body played by the usual rules now.

Smiling to himself, he strolled down the streets, stopping to sign autographs (on paper, not tits), and posing for a few photos. He’d need to ditch the followers if he was going to run into Dabi again - arguably the most difficult part of his plan - but not impossible.

Or, it hadn’t been impossible, not before.

He rounded another block and held his hands up. “Alright, everyone.” He flashed a charming smile (charming to everyone but one stubborn alpha, apparently). “I need to focus on my patrol, and you probably have places to be.” Disappointment swept through the little crowd.

Hawks’ scent gland stung under the patch. Yet another side effect he’d been wrestling with these last couple days – the impact even the most subtle of scent changes had on him. Before, when he’d been on enough meds to numb him to all but the strongest scents, this kind of thing couldn’t touch him.

Now it was damn near debilitating

“Really, I’ve got to get going!” he said, trying for cheery but too overwhelmed to hit the mark. The mix of scents - rotting florals and putrid fruits and stronger things like bitter herbs and something a little boozy - made his head spin and his stomach churn.

He spread his wings to clear space and shot into the sky, one hand over his mouth and the other on his stomach. The doctor had mentioned this might happen, but she’d only said there was a chance. A slim chance. And she’d given him no way to cope with the influx of pheromones, no instructions or meds. Spots dotted his vision. His glands ached with a need to… to what?

He groaned. The ground swam beneath his wings. If he could produce enough scent to soothe himself like a normal omega, this wouldn’t be a problem. At least, that’s what the doctor had said.

But as it stood, he still couldn’t even permeate the patches yet, and at night when he removed them, his scent - a foreign mix of something a little citrusy and something crisp and clean - was barely strong enough to overcome the scentless body wash he was still using.

His stomach lurched. He needed to land, and before he lost his dinner over the top of the city. He tucked his wings and dropped unceremoniously into the first deserted place he could find – an alley back exit under the sporadic flicker of a dim floodlight.

Crouching down, head between his knees, he breathed - in through his nose, out through is mouth, in through his nose, out through his mouth - and waited for another wave of nausea to crest and break. He curled his fingers, digging his nails into the leather of his gloves.

Never had he felt so betrayed by his own body.

He’d worked himself through hell before - startling blood loss and bruises and breaks. He’d trained without his quirk, learned to utilize his feathers with lethal efficiency, and in less than a month, his own damn biology made it all moot.

He took another slow breath, let it out, and rubbed his neck. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to try finding Dabi. Just because he hadn’t tried attacking before, didn’t mean Hawks’ luck would hold, and he’d like to at least be able to defend himself if-

“Well look who I found.”

Smooth as it was, the voice set Hawks’ nerves on edge. Feathers sharpening at his back, he stood to address the mountain of a man who’d just stepped out of the building and into a scene the public was not meant to see. “Can I help you?”

His smile spread like a disease, revealing a row of too-perfect white teeth. The light above them flickered, dancing their shadows over the brick. “I think,” he said, voice oily and low, “that it’s you who needs my help.” He stepped closer, nose tipped up and eyes closed.

Hawks reached for his feathered sword.

“You smell so good,” he whispered.

The meaning hit Hawks too late.

A wall of pheromones - like gasoline mixed with a sharp hint of woodsy pine - pressed in around Hawks before he could draw his sword. He covered his nose, but not fast enough to avoid breathing in the noxious scent.

“How-“ he tried, but gave up to press both hands over his nose and mouth. Heat rolled through his body in waves, replacing the nausea from moments ago with something far more worrisome.

“How?” The man stepped closer. The light flickered again, distorting his grin. “My quirk. Enhanced senses, to keep it simple.” His eyes raked down Hawks’ body. “And that scent patch isn’t doing much to hide what you are from me, omega.”

Shit. Hawks’ back hit the brick. He tried to lift his wings, to take flight, but it was like someone had anchored them down.

Every limb was twice as heavy, twice as slow to respond. His thoughts were slower too, wading to the front through his pheromone-fogged mind, getting lost along the way. He gave his head a sharp shake, trying to clear it.

The alpha laughed, cold and cruel. “Never would have thought the number two hero was an omega.”

Shit. Shit. Shit!

Hawks again reached for the sword, only to sway and hit the concrete. Pain zipped up his knees into his teeth. His senses slipped through his grasp too quick to register properly. Were those bootsteps? What was touching his head? Shit... why did it feel like someone had just ripped a chunk of his hair out?

His head was forced back. Blinding, blinking light burned his eyes. Another wave of pheromones hit.

What… that feeling… so warm between his legs… almost like-

“Hey, what the fuck!” The raspy voice cut through Hawks’ fog. His eyes searched the dark, found a flicker of blue.

There was heat. Scorching. Blinding. Burning. And then he was falling.

His head hit something hard, but not hard enough to be concrete. His body followed, slumping into the warmth in front of him. Something slipped through his ears. Words, maybe. A question. Hawks couldn’t say.

There were really only two things he could make sense of as he squeezed his eyes shut. The weightless, floaty feeling thrumming through his body, and the subtle but intoxicating scent of firewood and juniper berries that calmed his panic and lulled him into a fitful sort of unconsciousness.

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isabeauwolf · 7 hours ago

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Damn, talk about spice and heartbreak first thing in the morning 😭 So good. Fox God, Touya? Yes!

Baby let me hold you while I cry with you! @angelblueflame

Imagine you’re a Tourist, ducking into an old temple to get out from a sudden rainstorm, and coming face to face with the temple’s guardian fox spirit, Dabi. You’re supposed to leave an offering when you enter a temple yannow, and if you have nothing to give, perhaps you could offer your body~

a/n I’m a bit scared uploading this, because it turned out differently than expected, but it’s another one of my favorites so I hope you like it too

ღ dabi x you —when the fox calls

The storm hit without warning. One minute she was admiring the mossy stillness of a winding mountain path and the next, a low growl of thunder rolled over the hills like a warning. Rain followed fast. Thick, cold drops slapping her skin, soaking through her jacket in seconds. Her map was useless now, her phone already dead from too many photo stops and not enough signal. She was alone, lost in a forest somewhere outside Kyoto, and the path had long since turned to slippery mud.

Then she saw it—half-hidden by vines and trees—a small gate, half-open, with a weathered sign: Kitsune-no-Miya. Shrine of the Fox.

The stone steps beyond were cracked and crooked, climbing into shadow. She should’ve turned back. Every guidebook said to avoid unfamiliar shrines. Especially ones so old they didn’t even show up on Google Maps. But the sky cracked again, thunder rumbling like a beast’s growl, and she didn’t hesitate. She ran through the torii gate, up the steps, her soaked shoes slapping against the stone.

The shrine was ancient. No bright vermilion paint, no souvenir stands or donation boxes. Just silence and the scent of wet earth. The main temple building stood crookedly behind a courtyard of moss and broken lanterns. And in the middle of the open space, weathered by time and rain, was a fox statue.

It was beautiful. The fox sat upright on its haunches, mouth slightly open, ears alert. Its eyes were made of polished obsidian that seemed to shimmer despite the darkness. Its tail curled behind it with elegance and a thick white stone collar rested around its throat.

She didn’t realize she was staring until the rain slowed. The storm was still rumbling, but above the shrine, a strange hush had fallen. As if the world had gone still. She stepped closer to the statue. “Hi,” she whispered, unsure why she was speaking at all. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… I needed somewhere to wait out the storm.”

The shrine didn’t answer. Of course it didn’t. She exhaled shakily. Her hands were trembling from cold. Her hair clung to her cheeks. She looked around, wondering if she could stay under the roof until the rain passed. She was already planning how to apologize in the guest book, if she found one, when she turned back—the statue was gone.

No, not gone. He was standing there. Not a statue. Not human. The fox god.

He stood where the statue had been, tall and still, silver-white hair spiked in waves around his head. His skin gleamed moon-pale in the stormlight, smooth and untouched. His dark kimono fluttered around his legs, though no wind blew. His eyes were turquoise. Not just colored, lit. Like candle flames caught in the ocean. Ancient. Sharp. Watching her.

Her breath caught while he didn’t speak or move at all. Yet she somehow understood, that she had come to his shrine, uninvited, unprepared. And worse, with no offering to give.

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t a tourist stop. This wasn’t a safe little photo op for her feed. This was his domain and she had entered with empty hands and muddy shoes.

“I…” she started shakily. “I didn’t mean to—please, I didn’t know this shrine was still…”

Still what? Still sacred? Still watched?

He silently stepped closer. “You speak as though that matters,” he said, his voice a soft purr. It sent chills through her. “Ignorance doesn’t free you from the debt you now owe.”

She swallowed. Her knees wanted to buckle. Her body wanted to run, but something deeper, lower, pulled her still. “I… I don’t have anything.”

No coins. No offerings. No incense. No prayer.

“Nothing?” he asked.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at her. Not just at her, but through her. As if her body, her soul, her want, were all laid bare to him. The weight of his gaze made her skin burn, despite the cold.

She shook her head, lips trembling. “Nothing.”

He stopped inches from her, close enough that she could feel the strange warmth coming off him. A fire or smoke beyond reach. His head tilted curiously, yet amused. “Then, what will you give me?”

Lightning flashed. The air between them cracked.

She should have said sorry again. She should have begged for forgiveness. She should have dropped to her knees and prayed. Instead, her lips parted. She looked up at him with wet lashes, her heart pounding. “…Me.”

The fox god smiled hungrily.

For a moment the storm held its breath. The rain stopped. The wind vanished. The sky above the shrine shimmered with a strange glow. Not daylight, not moonlight, but something caught between.

And Touya, the fox god, watched her. “You,” he murmured, as if tasting the word. “A mortal with no name, no coin, no gift… offering herself.”

His voice wrapped around her like silk, like smoke, like fingers she couldn’t see. She tried to take it back, but the words tangled in her throat. He was so close now. His scent—earth and fire and something sweet, like plum wine—made her dizzy.

He leaned in, lips brushing just beside her ear. “Do you know what it means… to offer yourself to a fox?”

She shivered. “N-no,” she admitted.

He chuckled wickedly. “Good.”

He stepped back, and in a blur of pale motion, he circled her, stalking around. Like a flame dancing just out of reach. She turned with him, dizzy from the slow pace, the way his eyes dragged over her skin like claws wrapped in velvet.

“I could keep you here,” he murmured. “Bury your name. Tangle you in silk and illusion until you forget what time is.”

He passed behind her, his fingers—claw-tipped—brushing lightly down her spine. Her breath hitched. “I could make you dream forever. Make you mine in a thousand lives and never give you back.”

She turned. “Would you… hurt me?”

The look he gave her was unreadable. “No,” he said. “But I’ll ruin you.”

Then he stepped closer again, until his chest nearly brushed hers. He tilted her chin up with one finger, his touch strangely warm. “Are you willing?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her whole body was trembling in something raw and ancient and new. She nodded and he smiled again. This time, almost… gentle.

But his next move was not. The temple around them shifted. One blink, and the moss, the rain, the broken stone was gone. They stood inside now. Somewhere deeper, sacred, older than any shrine she’d seen. Tatami mats beneath her feet. Lanterns burning with blue flame. Incense curling in the air like breath.

And in the center a bed. Woven silk sheets in black and white. Cherry blossoms drifting from a tree with no visible trunk. The air smelled of longing, of memory, of things lost and never mourned.

She turned toward him. “What happens now?” she asked.

He smiled, stepping toward her with eyes that glittered like dusk. “Now,” he said, undoing the sash at his waist with one slow, fluid motion, “I show you what it means to belong to a fox.”

Her breath caught in her throat as the silk robes slipping from his shoulders like water. He wasn’t modest. Why would a god be? He was all pale and sharp elegance with long limbs, a torso lean with power, etched with faint ink-like markings that shimmered faintly in the blue firelight. Sacred sigils—marks of power, of something older than language. And those glowing turquoise eyes never left her.

“Take off your clothes,” he said. It didn’t even sounded demanding, more like a truth as natural as asking the moon to rise.

Her hands moved before she could question it. Trembling fingers peeled her out of her wet shirt, out of her soaked jeans, until she stood before him in nothing but breath and bare skin. He moved closer again. His fingers trailed up her arm slowly, but beneath the calm was something coiled. Something dangerous and possessive.

“You don’t understand what you’ve given,” he murmured. “But that’s what makes it beautiful.”

She shivered. “Then… teach me.”

His lips twitched into something between a smirk and a snarl. “I will.”

He pushed her back gently until her knees met the silk-covered bed and she fell into it, sinking into softness that felt unreal. Like the whole room was alive. Touya knelt over her and then he touched her. But gods don’t touch the way mortals do. There was no fumbling. No hesitation. His fingers ghosted down her throat, across her chest, her hips, her thighs. Strokes that felt like fire beneath skin. Each brush of his hand left warmth blooming, deeper than nerves, down to the bone. As if he wasn’t just touching her body, but rewriting it and making it his. He kissed her slow and yet he claimed her. Tongue sliding between her lips with practiced ease, tasting her gasps, drinking every tremble. His hands pinned hers to the sheets and when she arched up for more, he just laughed into her mouth.

“Greedy little thing,” he purred. “I haven’t even begun.”

He slid down her body, sharp teeth grazing her skin, fangs just shy of breaking. He left heat and need in his wake. Danced with her on the edge of what was painful and what was pleasure. But when he finally took and filled her, it was like falling.

Her body opened under him, every inch drawn tight with ecstasy and overwhelming pressure, like she was being filled with something more than just flesh. Like he was sinking into her soul and setting it alight. He moved deep, slow, perfect, dragging out every cry, every gasp. Her hands clawed at his back. Her thighs shook around his hips.

He groaned into her neck, “You feel like devotion.”

That made her realize that he was worshipping her and binding her. Because fox gods do not take what’s offered and let it go. They take and keep. Even as she fell apart beneath him—again, and again, and again—she could feel his energy sinking into her like ink into silk. Something dark. Something permanent. A bond.

“Mine,” he growled as she came undone, body arching beneath his, slick and hot and helpless.

The word echoed in the air like a curse. A vow. A lock clicking shut. Her eyes fluttered open and vision turned hazy, and then she saw them. Not the fox statue. Not a god. But tails—nine of them—white as bone, coiled in the shadows, surrounding the bed like a cage. And Touya’s mouth curled against her throat, his voice a whisper made of smoke and blood. “You’ll never leave this shrine again.”

There was no sun in the temple. No sunrise. No moon. Just a soft, golden twilight that never changed. The same filtered glow through paper screens. The same warm breeze that never moved the trees. The same sound of wind chimes that never quite came from anywhere.

At first she tried to count the days. She used little stones from the garden, stacking them on the windowsill. But one morning—if it was morning—they were gone. And when she asked Touya, he just smiled and said, “What would you need time for?”

The shrine gave her everything. Silks in every color. Sweet rice wine, warm baths, books she didn’t recognize but could somehow read. Her body never aged. She never bled. Her hunger was always sated. Her skin glowed like something newly made.

And Touya was sometimes there. Sometimes gone. When he was near, the temple pulsed with it. The fire in the lanterns burned hotter. The air shimmered. He’d pull her into his lap beneath the blooming tree that never shed a petal and kiss her like she was the last mortal left. His tongue would tease her mouth open while his fingers found her pulse, always murmuring—

“My little offering…”

“You belong to me…”

“You were made for this…”

But then he’d vanish. For hours. Days. Weeks? She never knew. When he was gone, the temple grew quiet, empty. The food still appeared. The fire still burned. But everything felt thinner. Her thoughts wandered more. She’d stare at the walls, wondering what season it was back home. Did her friends think she was dead? Was her family searching for her? Sometimes she’d scream his name just to feel real.

And every time the ache in her chest reached its sharpest point, when her memories of the world before became too loud to silence, Touya returned Always behind her. Always touching before she even heard him.

“Did you miss me, little human?” he would whisper, dragging his fingers up her inner thigh, his other hand at her throat.

Her body would betray her before her mouth could answer. Arching, whimpering, welcoming. That’s how he played her. With kisses between her shoulders and slow thrusts that made her forget what crying felt like. With his tongue in her mouth and her legs hooked over his arms as he drove into her so deep she saw stars that didn’t exist. With his voice right in her ear—

“You don’t miss them. You miss me.”

“There’s no world but mine.”

“This temple is your home and I’m your god.”

And afterward, she’d lie in his arms with her thighs slick and trembling, her eyes dazed. He’d stroke her hair and hum a melody older than language while she forgot what the sky looked like. And if she cried? He’d kiss her tears and say softly, “Mortals always grieve the leash at first.”

It began when she followed a sound. A strange, low laughter echoing down the eastern corridor of the temple, the one Touya always told her not to enter.

She shouldn’t have gone. She knew that. But he was gone again. She hadn’t seen him in… time didn’t work right here. But her heart ached. Her body missed his hands, his mouth, his voice curling around her name like silk.

So she followed the laughter. It led her to a room she’d never seen before, wide and gold, draped in veils and incense smoke. The air smelled like jasmine and foxglove. And sitting on cushions in a ring of shimmering firelight were women. Not quite women. Not mortal. Fox spirits.

All of them otherworldly. Long pale limbs, sharp claws tipped in gold. Eyes like fire opals. Nine tails each, swaying behind them like wind in tall grass. They lounged in silk robes that slipped too easily down their shoulders, whispering and giggling, licking sweet wine from each other’s fingers.

When she entered the room went still. Every head turned and every gaze burned.

“Well, well…” one purred, rising to her feet with a smile full of fangs. “The little pet.”

“She’s real,” another whispered. “I thought he made her up.”

“She’s soft,” a third sneered, crawling closer, nose twitching. “She smells like him.”

The first one circled her. Fingers ghosted across her jaw, her throat. Her tails brushed the girl’s legs, making her shiver. “He gave you his mark, didn’t he?” she said, low and dark. “You let him rut you like a beast and thought it meant love.”

Her voice cracked. “I-I didn’t—”

“Oh, little offering,” the fox cooed, eyes gleaming. “You’re not his only worshipper. We’ve served him for centuries. We bleed for him. Burn for him. We were his favorites until you.”

Another one growled, crawling toward her on all fours. “You think a god like Touya binds himself to one mortal girl? You’re just his newest game.”

“She’s not even a fox,” one spat. “No tails, no magic. Just holes and tears.”

She turned to run—heart pounding, breath ragged—but the doors slammed shut behind her. The foxes moved, sleek and hungry, surrounding her like a slow tide. But then he came. Blue fire exploded in the room, licking up the walls. The fox spirits hissed and scattered, tails snapping in fury.

Touya stood in the doorway. Naked from the waist up. Eyes glowing gold-turquoise, hair wild and lips curled in a snarl. “She’s mine. Touch her again and I’ll rip your souls from your pretty throats.”

The room emptied in an instant, whispers of foxfire and perfume vanishing into smoke.

And she? She collapsed. But before her knees hit the floor Touya caught her. He cradled her like glass, like something sacred. He kissed her temple and carried her back to his bed in silence. But later, when he had her naked and spread beneath him—fucked full of his cock, her fingers tangled in his hair—he whispered the truth—

“They were right.”

Thrust.

“You’re just a mortal.”

Thrust.

“You’ll break long before they do.”

He leaned down and licked the tear that slid down her cheek. “But gods don’t love foxes. We love what we can ruin.” And he fucked her harder, like he wanted to ruin everything.

It started with whispers. Soft like the wind, but too cold. She’d lie in the temple’s endless twilight, waiting for Touya to return and hear the fox spirits behind the walls. Singing. Laughing. Mimicking her voice in mocking tones.

“Touya, please…”

“Touch me, Touya…”

“Do you love me now, Touya?”

She stopped eating. The food tasted like ash. The silks itched her skin. The temple that once felt warm and dreamlike now pulsed with something rotten. The air had teeth.

When Touya appeared, he kissed her with the same hunger, but she didn’t kiss back. He made love to her. She didn’t moan. He whispered all the sweet nothings she used to melt for. She just stared. Eyes wide. Blank. Gone.

“Look at me,” he growled once, gripping her chin as he thrusted hard, frantic and desperate into her. “Tell me you’re mine.”

She blinked. And said nothing. He came inside her, panting, nails leaving crescent moons on her hips. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.

She just turned her face away and whispered. “I don’t want to be anything anymore.”

The foxes were however were pleased. They brushed her hair when Touya wasn’t looking. Fed her lies like honey. Told her she was just a vessel and that gods don’t love, they only use.

“She was your favorite,” one hissed into Touya’s ear as he walked past. “And now she’s nothing. You made her this.”

He slaughtered that fox. Burned her to smoke, but the damage was done.

He tried to summon storms. Tried to make the sky real again, to break the temple open and let the world back in. But she didn’t notice. She sat by the pond in a thin white robe, pale legs folded and eyes vacant.

Once he knelt beside her and pressed her hand to his chest. “Do you feel that?” he whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to have a heart. But you… you gave me one.”

She smiled faintly. “I think I left mine somewhere in the forest.”

He kissed her. She didn’t kiss him back. And then he stopped leaving the temple. He stopped touching anyone else.

The other foxes grew bitter, but they didn’t dare go near her anymore. Touya’s fire scorched the stones when they tried. He protected her body like it was sacred, but her mind? It was slipping into silence.

He fucked her harder. He fucked her softer. He begged. He wept. But she stared past him every time.

One night, he wrapped her in his tails and held her close. He kissed her so hard until her lips bled and whispered. “I’ll make you a goddess. I’ll give you tails. I’ll give you eternity. Just stay with me.”

She whispered back. “I don’t want to be anything you can keep.”

And Touya—god of flame, god of foxes, trickster and devourer of offerings— broke. Because now, even when he holds her… he can’t have her.

The last time he touched her she was still warm. Her body curled on the bed where he had once worshipped her, night after night. Where he had made her scream and cry and beg and fall silent.

But now? She was still with her eyes closed. No breath left in her lungs. No beat that had made him purr whenever he felt it under his palm and lips. No soul that shone so brightly that even a god wanted to kneel.

Touya fell to his knees. Not as a god, or as a fox. Just a being that had loved too selfishly. He begged. He kissed her lips, her throat, the place between her brows where he used to whisper his favorite lies. He called her name into the fire, and for first time the fire didn’t answer.

The fox spirits gathered outside the chamber, whispering nervously—

“She’s really gone.”

“She was just a mortal…”

“She was his heart.”

Touya stepped out, barefoot and blood-eyed. He said nothing when he killed them all. Every fox. Every sister. Every tail. He turned the temple into a pyre. Let the golden woods burn. Let the silks turn to smoke. Let the wind-chimes scream like dying stars. Let the shrine crumble to its bones.

When it was over, he carried her body to the highest point of the ruin and laid her down on a bed of ash. The twilight was still there, flickering weakly around the edges of the world. Like it didn’t know what to be anymore.

He sat beside her, and for the first time in eternity—Touya was silent.

They say he never left that spot. That the god of fire and foxes, once playful and cruel and gleaming, became a ruin himself. Stone-eyed. Covered in soot. Wrapped in the last of his nine tails. Watching over a corpse that never rotted, surrounded by a temple that never rebuilt itself.

But sometimes when the wind is quiet, when the ash settles, when the fire dies low…

A flicker appears beside him. A soft glow. A shimmer of soul. The last breath of the girl who broke his heart. She curls beside him in the soot, not quite alive, not quite gone. And though she never speaks and never smiles, he turns his head to watch her.

“Stay with me.”

And her glow stays. Forever.

#this was so beautifully written my heart is aching-#the pain and sorrow is too real #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x reader #the beginning really got me excited and daydreaming for this scenario when ill go as a tourist to japan #BUT THEN IT SHATTERED ME 😭#Isabeau fanfic rec #Fox God/Spirit Touya!#spice and feels this morning

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