Tᴏxɪᴄ (yandere! rindo×fem!reader)

Chapter 1: Empty Streets

Just a reminder: from now on is in the bonten timeline.
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The night breeze blew through the silent streets, the empty sidewalks filled with your footsteps.

Your hand gripped tightly on the bag strap you had on your shoulder, arms pressed close to your own body.

You could hear the footsteps behind you echoing louder and louder, the muffled drunken laughter of men ringing in your ears. Your figure was tense, compacted as you wished you could just turn small and disappear.

Despite having grown up into a full adult now and escaping from the curse of your mother, deep down you were still the same scared little girl you were younger.

Your feminine features had accentuated, your facial features sharpening, and your body developing to one of a grown woman.

Yet despite all the physical change, you were unable to accept your own womanhood, unable to identify yourself as a woman. Whenever you wanted to, you could feel the familiar, nostalgic line ring in your head, that made you feel so small, so pathetic yet all again.

"You're a boy, Akito. You're not a girl. Who made you think like that?"

Her voice rang in your ears, the memory fresh in your mind even after her passing.

However, a sudden wolf whistle snapped you out of your daze, waking you back into the fearful reality.

You flinched sharply, yet despite the amount of fear that rolled off you, it inflicted a sense of joy in the men following you. They chuckled, happy to have triggered such a reaction out of you, high-fiving one another as dirty remarks left their lips.

Your eyes stung, as your pace quickened, your legs moving quicker, panic and anxiety laced in your stiff, yet quick movements.

Yet you paused abruptly when an arm came into your sight. Your feet stopped moving, eyes registering the information infront of you.

The heavy smell of alcohol entered your nostrils, the pungent smell of body odour filled your nostrils. Even without turning around, you could tell that you were surrounded. Trapped in that small corner, you turned around to face the guy who had cornered you.

Back pressed against the wall, your big, glossy eyes stared at them in fear as they shook slightly, illicting teasing mocks from them as they laughed, finding humor in this not-very-funny situation.

Dread filled your veins as you stared at them, towering over you, despite you standing at an average height of a woman. Their shadow casted down on you, covering you from any form of public eye—if there were even any.

"Have anyone told you that you're really pretty?" the male infront of you slurred, the smell of alcohol now thicker as he opened his mouth to speak. "So pretty that I just want to wreck you so bad."

His friends around the both of you started laughing, sounds of agreements leaving their lips, wolf-whistles and dirty compliments that were uncalled for leaving their lips.

Your hand instinctively went to your nose, covering your nose from the heavy and repulsive smell. However, that seemed to make him mad for his hand grabbed your wrist, pulling it down roughly.

You pulled your wrist back from his hold, despite knowing how severe consequences could be if you were to anger him.

You were still nothing but a weak, pathetic kid in the body of an adult, the trauma you faced causing you to be unable to move on.