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

Dark! Persia x Reader /Exotic/

A/N: After a long time, I'm back. So, how are you folks putting up? Leave comments!

Aside of that, you can now go and find me on Tumblr through the Hyperlink below. There I'll go answering questions and other minor things.

Some things come as an utter surprise, like discovering that the perfume you wear is actually deadly poison and you can only laminate on how foolish you were as you feel your heart beat slow. He honestly wondered if you weren't dangerous in a similar subtle fashion, you surely were as prudent as a viper.

He remembered the day you'd coyly shuffled in his shop, a guard company to ensure you wouldn't become unruly and run away. Eyes on your feet, all your movements had been hectic and infused for desperation. The guard had done the talking and you had been mostly ignored.

It would have remained that way if he hadn't taken a spontaneous interest in you. (E/c) eyes had met his for the briefest instances and then you'd demurely sunk your gaze again, a wounded animal in front of a creature above them. You had definitely left an impression on him that day.

Henceforth, you occupied his thoughts in an unnatural way, an infestation that had spiralled out of control and released noxious fumes that poisoned his thoughts. Not that he really minded; it was refreshing to have something else on his mind aside from the daily woes, especially if it was something as delightful as you.

Yet the times came when fantasies could no longer sate desires and dreams yearned to become reality.

In early mornings when the gods painted the sky in a breath-taking plethora of rich colours in the beginnings of a new day, he'd ask himself: "Would she even appreciate such a thing?"

Without even consulting you, he answered the question for himself, shamelessly and confidently that you'd one day learn to appreciate all that he would sacrifice for you: "Of course she will, she has no reason not to."

Besides, how could he resist the temptation that you were so pretty, not only in appearance, but also in mannerisms? When you gave him one of your shy smiles, his heart melted, like the silver he melted in ovens.

In one way or another, he has always adorned beautiful things, one of the reasons he dedicated his life to making fineries. Capturing the enticing perfume of roses and cypress in jars and bottles ...

(Extracting you would be a similar process – tearing you away from the unworthy with patience and delicacy.)

... and forging stories in silver was what he made his living from.

(Probably he'd also have to meld you into something new. Now you were broken at worst, fractured at best with glimmers of potential shining through, pinpricks of light against a tar-black setting)

Giving can only be satisfying to a certain extent and you have all the right to demand something in return, something that Nasreddin could justly call his own. Why hesitate when you were as exquisite as ebony and gold, and just as rare?

Long ago he had heard that they'd heard that they had fetched you from such a place where they plundered such treasures and in an odd way it was perfectly fitting. The problem was that other's also saw something enchanting in you.

It was that that encouraged the local satrap to pass you on as a gift to his wife, hence why you were just another ornament to the vassal of King of Kings. Where you absolutely didn't belong.

You agreed with him on that, just not in the way he intended. How cruel a person could be in compassion.

The people that owned you, who's very whims you had to treat as orders, weren't of the sort that could appreciate true beauty under any circumstances.