𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 / bungō stray dogs x reader anthology

𝐟𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲 ✧ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

august 8th 2020 / This one was kinda inspired by the song Death No More by IC3EAK, I tend to associate that with Fyodor for some reason and I thought it would make a good title and prompt, sorry it's a bit short but I hope you enjoy it anon! / 600 words

✧ ｡ﾟ✐.*ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* ✎｡:*ﾟ

Any sane person should have said no, but he was cunning, and a part of you was more than willing to make a deal with the devil in order to escape the hell of your ability. Besides he was beautiful himself, from his pale porcelain skin, to his soft violet locks and sharp eyes, to his mind, how you would have loved to pick apart the intricacies of his mind, examining it closely as you analyzed his thought process. You were curious really, how on earth did he come to see himself as god? As a being above all others, how dare say, did he manage to come to such a conclusion - to become god of all things. The question amused you admittedly, that twisted morbid side of you, the one that found a twisted pleasure in manipulation and the simple thought of having managed to wrap your unknowing victims around your finger. And though you might not be able to do that with Fyodor, perhaps that is what drew you to him.

There was no conceivable way for you to believe he was god, you never believed in god in the first place! Just a collection of old children's tales, that was all he was to you, and frankly you didn't particularly care, it intrigued you really, how someone could bare so much faith in a being who brought empty promises of salvation. Empty promises of hope, empty promises that they and they alone were the chosen few, that they could bring peace. You simply laughed at that, calling bullshit as you cursed them out, and while you hadn't quiet said those words to Fyodor, you were sure he knew how you felt.

"Burn it all," as you had once said, "I have no care for this world, this wretched, horrible place, it makes me sick, so you might as well just burn it." The empty look of despair flashing across your eyes. To wish to be alive was such a beautiful thing and yet somewhere along the line you had lost that beautiful ability, your resolve crumbling into hatred for the world. How could you trust a place that failed you again and again. The institutions, the government, your family and friends, all of them have failed you again and again, so burn it all you wanted to scream. How you wished to let tears of kerosene flow from your eyes, a match falling from your fingers as the flames were brought to light.

But he always brought your mind to such a peaceful place, to one where you might be at peace, where your words could be kind even! Fyodor, he was able to draw that out, from all the jagged and broken walls, he was able to reach through them all as though they were simply an illusion. It was an odd thing really, you found your walls crumbling into dust at his mere presence, as though the idea of him alone brought you comfort, though in some ways it did. And then even so! The taste of him and feel of his hands against your skin, and the euphoria he made you feel, truly he might even be a god then. And even if you couldn't quite ever believe in god, at the very least Fyodor had you forgetting your own death wishes, and drowning in the euphoria he ignited in you, all as he intended it to be.