The Monsters in us all ( Dark!/Yandere! Hetalia x Reader )

Dark 2p China x Reader ~Haze~

A/N: Now stating it loud and clear: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED! Some of you may have wanted to request the one or the other character but that will to wait. On to the story. Trigger warning for mentions of substance abuse. I'm in no way for drugs, I find them disgusting and I did my best to highlight my distaste in a subtle way.

The first time Zao saw you in the opium den, he was surprised.

You weren't scantily clad, like most of the wretched women that tended to frequent here, seducing the intoxicated patrons, enthralling them with actions and words as sweet and alluring as the haze they were trapped in, only to swindle them and steal a decorous sum of cash.

No, you didn't seem as hopelessly lost as some of the addicts with glassy eyes and a dreamy expression, that would stumble about as if they were unaccustomed to the weight of reality once their high ebbed down. You had sat there against the far wall, hands underneath your thighs and meekly looking around with an anxious sliver in your eyes as if you had been placed in a cage with a couple of tigers. At times you'd pull your jacket tighter around your form as if you had been chilled by a gust of wind or stare at your shoes in a frightened manner.

From the beginning you had been intriguing, like an exotic bird of paradise. Outwardly you had always been rather unspectacular – almost every time he saw you were befitted with the same manner of fashion: a black jacket over a plain T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans with matching shoes, your hair always neatly styled out of your face with a few unruly strands dancing out of order; fashionable but still conservative.

Middle-class, not one of the stinking rich snobs that come here and expect the full luxuries of attention and service they receive elsewhere, that lounge around and then pitifully let themselves fall victim to the drug as a way to relieve themselves from the pressures of being a celebrities temporally. Or one of those riff-raffs that cross up; their eyes bloodshot from despair and wasting every last penny on their addiction.

Ever timid you would only ever dare order a glass of water. If it were anybody else he would have glared at them, barking that this is an opium den and not a restaurant; however by you he'd let it slide.

He remembers all too well going over to your table for the first time. It had been on the day you had first ventured in here and you had been nervously shuffling around for about half an hour. Wordlessly he had set a delicate pipe on the low surface along with a porcelain bowl sloshing full with the brown liquid.

The thing people would come here for was always the opium. It was what they all requested, spoken aloud or not and they all there sure to pay for the sickening pleasure. Should they have been hesitant are start playing him a fool then he'd introduce they to his own little game. He'd flick out his switch blade and threaten to take something else profitable from them if they didn't give him the desired payment.

The moment you had caught up on what he intended you had protested.

"No thank you, I don't need any. I'm just waiting for somebody", you had politely declined, waving your hand slowly in an abrasive gesture to underline what you had said.

If he hadn't been captivated by you before it had been from the moment he had heard your mellifluous voice, on to rival his own silken timbre.

Onward from that day he had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on you.

You'd always sit at the same end of the room, waiting for somebody...or something. For his own self-preservation he didn't pry. It could just as well be that you were from the mafia, in contrary to your seemingly innocent nature, and he knew better than meddle with their troublesome affairs. Mafia chapters and he do get along to some extend; he holds an evident distrust for them and tends to shun them for their ambiguous doings and they hold a mutual respect for him and leave him be due to his reputation.