Love & Torture | BSD Various x Fem Reader | Bungou Stray Dogs

[Chapter 1] Exposition and Rediscovery

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. You knew Chūya meant well, but his confrontation had drained you of any energy you had left. The soft clicking of your heels filling the empty night sky, the streetlights flickering and buzzing, the noise flowing in the wind, blending artificial and natural seamlessly.

You mutter a song under your breath, the lyrics long faded and forgotten, garbled noises and hummed lines escape your lips as you approach your apartment, the dingy bricked building rearing into view.

You pull out your keys, the metal long blurred and stained with your fingerprints and worn down by time. You shove it into the lock, struggling to turn it before finally hearing the satisfying click as you push your door open.

You mentally celebrate as you step inside. There weren't many positives in your life so far, so any win would count, even if as trivial as unlocking a stubborn door.

You step inside, shaking off your shoes and locking the door behind you, sliding down the door slowly, almost like the scene to a movie except this was all real.

Death is cruel, but Life is crueler.

You pick yourself up from off the ground, struggling to stand up, stumbling over to your couch. You trip over your feet, landing face first into the stiff cushions of your sofa. 

"I give up." You groan, flipping onto your back and deciding to fall asleep there, too tired to go to your room. You stare up at the ceiling, the bandaged murderer's voice flooding your mind, invading it and shattering your heart over and over again, reminding you without a doubt that he was gone. 

That he left you. 

You bite your bottom lip, your body curling in on itself as you quaked under the weight of his loss, your vision blurring. You squeeze your eyes shut, some of the droplets overflowing and rolling down your cheeks, the only sensation you could concentrate on now as your world spiralled all around you.

Crumbling.

windows shattered. walls broken. shards of glass puncturing your heart.

You fall asleep in shambles, darkness consuming your psyche, letting your sleepiness take over.

———

He walks down the street slowly, his figure slouched and his fists clenched. Dammit, he was supposed to leave that hellhole with no regrets, not to still be thinking about it a whole two weeks later.

"God fucking dammit." He curses under his breath, his fingernails digging bloody crescent moons into his palms as he thinks back to the only person he regretted leaving.

You.

His lifeline.

His plan was foolish and impulsive, and now here he was, alone, in the cold gaze of the moon, the celestial being looking down at you seemingly judging him. And he was doing the same.

Now that he had the time to think about it, he didn't know what he'd do without you.

But he'd uphold his promise of seeing you again.

He'd survive.

For you.

———

Akutagawa was a cold person. He cared for close to no one and didn't even shed a tear when his superior, Dazai, disappeared. He was shocked, for sure, but so was the rest of the mafia.

He was both a valuable asset and a dangerous liability should he ever turn, and it seems like he chose the latter, much to the dismay of the entire organization.

But no one was particularly sad, mostly disgruntled. Everyone that is, except for you. You, the killing prodigy, the one who got the job done the quickest, the one who easily rose up the ranks in the mafia, you who was suspected to be one of the ten calamities...

You were destroyed.

Everyone could see it, even Akutagawa. Every day you came in more and more disheveled, your clothes wrinkled, and an aura that screamed pain and suffering.

Unusual for a being who was supposed to inflict those two emotions.

The raven haired boy had actually considered approaching you a few times, but the thought of the interaction going south had steered him clear of trying anything.

He knew what happened to your victims. Disfigured, Diseased, Morphed.

Your ability allowed you to do that. 

One so destructive it could easily kill millions if you were left unchecked.

It had a befitting name, one that left many questions about its usage: 

Akutagawa had been on missions with you, and seeing the state you'd left the targets in sent shivers down his spine.

He one hundred percent understood why Port Mafia suspected her of being one of the calamities. She was destruction incarnate.

He glances over at her figured, poised yet hunched slightly in defeat, her eyes dull as she typed away at her computer, most likely working on reports.

He would be sent on another job with you next week or so, and he would be lying if he said he was excited about it.