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

Dark Scotland x Reader /Accident/

A/N: After 84 years, I'm back in track. I hope everything is well by you. In Austria here they have implemented a curfew dictating that nobody is allowed to be outside except for job-related reasons, to tend to animals and to buy medicine and groceries. How is the situation in your country?

On a lighter note I did try my best to imitate a Scottish accent here, just am not sure how well I succeeded here.

The usual trigger warnings apply to this story here.

The cold clings to you, a constant companion that will only leave you at deaths door. Sometimes it is comforting in the way its unpleasantness reminds you that you're alive and urges you to keep going. In a convoluted way it's a sign that there's still hope and that he hasn't caught you yet. On the flip side it keeps you awake, it twists and coils around your muscles, making you shiver. It plunges into the very marrow of your bone and holds your mind captive become the cold isn't always physical, often it is also anomaly of the mind that you can't be rid of. A nightmare you can't wake up from.

The emotional pain comes from having aspirations dashed and the numbness that follows – it is his fault. It was icy hatred cocooned in a paper-thin veneer of silent obedience. All of it was the result of having to withdraw and push forth emotions in order to cope with your situation and it wasn't easy to rid yourself of the mechanism now that you had your freedom.

From all that – from him – you were fleeing, treading across the boggy country as fast as your feet could carry you. To your disadvantage, you hadn't thought this through thoroughly in your panic.

After some time you had come to realise that it had been fatal to set of without a determined destination, without a proper sense of where you were heading. When the opportunity had presented itself you had seized it without further qualms and considerations. You had just wanted to put as much distance as possible between you and him and had made a mad dash. Speeding through green pastures and over the hills you hadn't looked back. Only after the adrenaline had resided along with the intoxicating joy had you realised you were in a dilemma: You didn't have the faintest clue where you were. Finally coming to the conclusion that a settlement had to be here somewhere you had continued in a certain direction.

So here you are, lost in Scotland, your clothes soaked and only having damp crackers to keep the hunger at bay. What would you do to sit in front of a warm fire and eat a hearty meal now. Such simply pleasure have been tainted for you, however. He came to mind when the yearning for such comforts emerged. It also reminded you why you were putting yourself in such misery – temporary suffering for a reward.

Still he would haunt you, along with the temptation of returning to him, Allistor. You could imagine it, another common place day. He would sit in front of the hearth with you in the evening, drawing from a pipe or a cigarette as languishly indulge in his fixation. Those daily inspections would always unnerve you and therefor you'd attempt to distract yourself, at least in the beginning. After some time you had been lulled into a superficial sense of comfort, being sated with rich food and content with the warm.

Your kidnapper certainly knew how to tend to you, pampering you when not subjecting you to his inhumane tendencies. The carrot and the stick – the problem was that you were a person, not a beast to be tamed.

"Oh you are a ferocious thing, darling. If you keep up this attitude, I'll make you sleep outside like a mutt."

Well, he was of different opinion. Such statements had been frequent when he had brought you in. You had been never unco-operative, hissing, spitting, scheming. His attitude to the whole matter hadn't made it better. So flippant, whole amused at your temper tantrums and even laughing at your more creative insults, your hunger strikes...