#dearestones

“Hey, you two!” You beamed at Tim and Brian as you walked in through the doorway, a skip in your step and a gleam in your eyes. You had just come in from a statistics exam, and while you did not study as thoroughly as you hoped, the test was easier than you had thought. “Have you seen Alex?”

Nerves still thrumming in excitement, you had decided that you wanted to celebrate despite not knowing what your grade was. If you celebrated now, you wouldn’t have to mourn later when you found that your test was marked in red to hell and back. And if it did turn out that you had passed—and with a high score—then you could go out and party all you liked! That meant twice the happiness and twice the fun!

And you knew who you would have liked to hang out with most. 

Alex and his girlfriend Amy. 

You had met Alex one day while you were walking around the campus without a care in the world. You don’t quite remember why you decided to walk around the hallways, but you glad you did. You happened across a group of students auditioning for a new short film (Marble Hornets, you think it was called) and had ended up watching some of it unfold. 

In the midst of the auditions (well, there were only two auditions), you observed how the student filmmaker handled directing and talking to the somewhat shy student who continuously referred back to the script. It was cute and heartwarming, it made you remember that humanity was not always cruel or cold when it mattered most. As soon as the student auditions were over (again, it didn’t take long because… again… only two people came to audition), that’s when you got to know THE Alex Kralie. 

You had heard of him in passing. He wasn’t one of the more popular students on campus, but those who frequented the filmography classes and were close to film majors all knew about him. He was an aspiring filmmaker, wide eyed and innocent, and wanting to be as great as Tarantino, Spielberg, or even Hitchcock! Normally, you wouldn’t have thought about talking to him, much less becoming friends, but this was different. 

You were intrigued. 

The way Alex handled Tim’s more than apparent shyness and worked with Brian’s inherent charm, it was like watching a master at work. Yes, you knew that Alex’s scripts left a lot to be desired and you bore witness to Seth’s and Jay’s attempts to subtly edit the script and the direction before Alex could catch on, but you could not deny that the film—at its core—had its charms.

It would be pretentious, for sure, but what student filmmaker out there didn’t create a movie that wasn’t a little bit pretentious?

Aside from the filmmaking, you also realized that Alex was such a great softy at heart as well! He had a wonderful golden retriever named Rocky, a big fluffy furball who was always eager to leap and kiss you with his long, slobbery tongue. You were charmed when you met the beast, but you were instantly enchanted when you met Amy. 

She was beautiful and kind: the entire package that any man could have killed for. 

And what better way to realize just how good of a guy Alex was than the quality of his girlfriend? Both of them were great people, creative and mischievous at heart. There were moments when you felt like you were intruding in their personal space, but they always had time for you to hang out and talk about the mundane (school) to the coolest things (Alex’s propensity to make a trainwreck of a film without making too many references to edgy movies) . 

You were also great friends with the rest of the group! Sarah always had a quip ready on her lips—she always tried to clean up the scripts so that her “acting” would look more natural but alas. Alex would have none of that. 

The cameraman, Seth, was quiet, but he also had a cute dog that liked to play with Rocky whenever he would bring his own little pup along to shoots. 

Jay, the script supervisor… was a bit of an oddball. He knew that Alex’s script wasn’t the best thing in the world, but he didn’t try to change it too much even if he technically held more power than most of the other crew members and could have easily convinced Alex to tighten and make things more clear if he so wished. He didn’t look like a pushover, so you could only assume that he saw something worth saving in Alex’s vision… which was weird, to say the least, but nothing too concerning. 

And finally… 

The two main actors who elevated the production from campy to… somewhat emotional and grounded. 

Both Brian and Tim were great friends who must have met a bit before the Marble Hornets’ auditions. While they seemed to look like polar opposites (Tim was reserved and snarky while Brian was all smiles and jokes). The both of them had never really acted before, but you wouldn’t have realized that from the few scenes that you managed to watch over Seth’s shoulder as he edited some of the footage to fit Alex’s picky directions. 

They bounced off each other well and often hung out together. In fact, while you rarely saw Alex, it was more likely that you’ve seen Brian on campus. Maybe it was the fact that he was a psychology major, but he was a social butterfly. Every time you happened to go out to a party or ate in the cafeteria, you always saw him hanging around a group of people. No matter what, he was always surrounded with laughter and smiles. 

Tim, on the other hand, wasn’t as well liked as his peers. That isn’t to say that he was a horrible person, but compared to Brian he was a wallflower who wilted if more than two people looked his way. Up until a few weeks ago, you wondered how Brian convinced Tim to audition before Alex had told you that it was him who gave him the opportunity. 

Again, you were floored by how kind and giving Alex was. 

Amy was a lucky girl. 

“Alex?” Brian looked up at you, an easygoing smile on his handsome features that was somewhat marred by the strange look in his eyes. Honestly, you didn’t pay too much attention to Brian (you were actually really interested in the behind the scenes crew, much to Alex’s and Seth’s delight), but now that you were here… His eyes seemed a little too hard, like an uncut gem that had yet to be polished to gleam. “What do you need him for?”

Beside Brian, Tim paused in the middle of tuning his guitar, his strong, sturdy fingers resting along the strings. Despite him staring at his lap, you could see that his knuckles were a stark white compared to the rest of his skin. He wasn’t tanned, but he was not as pale as Alex or Brian.

Tension lined Tim’s shoulders—had he stopped breathing for a moment?—before he seemingly forced himself to relax. 

“Oh, ummm…” You rocked a little on your heels, not willing to divulge your excitement to them. Yes, you were proud of it, but in front of two up and coming actors like these guys? Telling people you actually trusted like Alex and Amy was something to be expected and encouraged! You loved them dearly and you knew that even if it turned out you failed, they would be the first in line to pick up a tub of your favorite ice cream and make you a filling homemade meal to drown out your sorrows. 

But telling Brian and Tim? 

Yeah, you knew them, but you didn’t know them. 

You felt a little awkward waffling in between your decisions, so you decided not to tell them the full truth. It’s not like you needed to tell them anything. 

You just wanted to know where Alex was. 

“Not important. I figured he’d be here since I think he said that he wanted to go over some lines with the both of you but since I don’t see him—”

You made as if to leave, but before you could—

Brian hopped up from the couch and strode towards you, that easygoing smile on his face causing your stomach to churn and your palms to sweat. There was something… There was something about this situation and you were just now picking up on it. Before you could make an excuse or make a break for it, one of Brian’s arms draped itself over your shoulders before he began guiding—shoving—you towards the couch. 

The thing is, instead of forcing you to sit at a comfortable distance so that you were on one side of the couch, you found yourself squished in between Tim, who was now staring at you with a startled, but satisfied look in his eyes, and Brian, who continued to leave his arms on your shoulders. In between the both of them, you felt yourself grow irritated and antsy—it was much to warm in between them! And it felt like you were suffocating from their presence alone. 

Squished as you were, you were keenly aware of how Tim’s thigh was pressed up against yours, while Brian leaned in closer, almost as if he couldn’t get enough of your presence. 

“Why leave? Who knows, Alex might drop by…”

“Soon?” 

Perhaps it was the hope evident in your tone, but you found that Brian was gripping you tighter now and even Tim looked a little less…  meek. 

What was going on? Alex had never indicated that either of his actors were people to look out for. In fact, he spoke highly of them. There had been times when he would complain that they were trying to 'sabotage' his work, being too picky and highly critical of the delivery of some of their lines, and so on. For the most part, you tried to stay out of the drama, but even you knew that Alex wasn't a saint either.

Actually, for the past few weeks... He had been acting weird.

A little standoffish. A little cold.

There was something off about him, but you assumed that it was the stress from trying to juggle his passion with a parttime job and school.

The thing was, Alex being weird could be easily explained.

This... Whatever was happening with Tim and Brian could not.

"Stay a little bit."

Tim glanced at you, his southern accent a little thicker than usual. Carefully, he placed his guitar onto the floor, so that all of his attention was focused solely on you. His dark brown eyes bore into yours and you felt your mouth felt dry.

Alex had been acting weird. Erratic.

This...

Whatever Tim and Brian were up to, you wanted no part in it.

"Ha ha ha." You tried wriggling away, even pushing against the couch so that you could gain leverage, but Brian’s arm would not budge and even Tim’s fingers—the same fingers that had been lackadaisical in plucking his guitar strings— were inching closer towards your arm. 

You were trapped. 

“Guys, this isn’t funny anymore.” Actually, it hadn’t been funny in the first place. “Come on. Alex isn’t here, so I’ll just leave, okay?” 

You were facing Brian at that point, foolishly thinking that since he had been the more outspoken of the two would also correlate to him also being the more dangerous one, but you were mistaken. No sooner did you try reasoning with Brian did Tim lean over your shoulder, his warm breath heavy and hot against the sensitive skin of your throat. His scent enveloped, cloying and almost mesmerizing as you tried to lean away from his intrusion. However, that only led to you unconsciously leaning into Brian. 

This situation was confusing. Terrifying. 

You didn’t want to get violent, to hurt someone you barely knew, but at the same time, you didn’t like where this was heading.

Already, Tim was hugging you from behind, his thick, muscled arms holding you in pace as he nuzzled the area in between your shoulder blades. Meanwhile, Brian simply leaned back and gestured for you to follow suit. Did he seriously expect you to follow him, so that he could… What? Hold you close to his chest? So that you would be sandwiched in between them?

“Stop. I said stop!” 

With strength that you either did not know you had or had been reserving for moments of crisis, you ripped yourself away from Tim’s hold and nearly tripped over yourself as you headed towards the door. Behind you, you could hear both of the young men clamber to their feet, their shoes thudding ominously on the floor. 

It didn’t matter to you.

You were going to leave. 

You were going to talk to Alex and then—

“Oh, hey.” Alex tiredly wiped a hand down his face, his hazel eyes taking in your harried appearance in a mixture of concern and bemusement before his eyes trailed behind you, presumably observing Tim and Brian stopping only a few steps away. “Um…”

Choosing not to wait for Alex’s inquiries, you took hold of his wrist and began dragging him out of the apartment, making sure that the door was shut behind you.

“We… we need to talk. About them.” You continued to haul him by the wrist. “Please.”

And Alex, kind and generous Alex, simply nodded at you. “Alright then. Hit me.”

.

.

.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

It’s a tangle of limbs and half muttered phrases, all of it crooned or muttered in throes of passion. There's bedsheets and pillows, the fragrance of pastries and the stagnant air that accompanies hotel rooms. As you're swept up in the rising heat of frantic touches and lingering kisses, you can barely keep your eyes open, wanting to savor the moment of pure vulnerability.

Your bed partner, all toned muscle and soft grunts, is holding you tightly, almost too tight. The pressure is comforting, making you believe that this is real.

It has to be real.

"Are you okay?"

You can't help but ask, as your back arches off the bed, your chest meeting his eager mouth. His tongue laves around your sensitive skin and his hands, soft finger pads and calloused palms exploring every inch of your body.

At your question, he pauses and his dark eyes meet yours. 

Before you had become close to him, intimate in a way that you knew was afforded to few people, you didn't peg him for the type of person to want to get physical with another human being. Of course, you knew that most people had needs. You just assumed that based on his line of work and his preference for privacy, you thought that he would use other means to satisfy his primal urges. And if toys or other sources of stimulation weren't enough, then you supposed that he must have sought carnal satisfaction through sex workers.

For the most part, you were right. As a detective on the move, it was imperative for him to remain loose and detached from others. Sex workers, escorts, and the like could be bribed into silence. Machines and toys could be bought anonymously online. However, months of close relations and intimate conversation had culminated into the slow and steady crescendo of you and your beloved partner finally settling into each other's arms in an erotic dance that had you swaying your hips and falling neatly into his arms. 

Over and over again. 

Was it purely all physical? 

You hoped that this relationship meant something to him. Many days were spent poring over his investigations and most nights were spent in each other’s arms. He loved talking, you knew that, but he also liked observing you. Watching you. Making note of your likes and dislikes, what made you tick, what made you smile that special smile of yours that made him proud. 

In turn, you did the same. 

You could never fool yourself into thinking that you truly knew every aspect of him, but when you were close together like this, with both your hips moving against each other in unison, sweet friction inciting the embers of passion, you thought you could finally see the man underneath the facade of a cold, analytical character. You had never doubted that he was human, but you never knew that he could lower his defenses to reveal that he was warm to the touch and that his heart beat fast under your touches. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again, insistently this time. One of your hands lands on his bicep while the other cups his cheek. It’s intimate, too close to tender and leagues away from pure carnal intent. Often, the both of you would incite foreplay through banter, build up the tension with lingering touches and innuendo and then finally consummate your union. However, it was rare for soft touches that conveyed nothing more than affection and the trust that you had for him. 

L, your lover, trusted you enough that you wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. 

But L, the world’s greatest detective, only looked to you for help whenever he needed insight on one of his cases. 

Having resigned yourself to the fact that this relationship was never going to be in your favor, you would not be surprised if L had decided to shrug away your soothing touches and continued to bring the both of you to completion. You would not lie: you ached for the sweet release of bliss, but you were content to remain connected as is, bodies intertwined and your sweat dripping and pooling together underneath your bodies and soaking into the sheets. 

Yet, just when you were about to release L and to urge your hips to move against his, you felt your heart flutter with warmth when he interlaced his fingers with your fingers that caressed his cheek. For a brief moment, his dark eyed gaze kept you entranced, the look in his eyes seemingly expressionless, but the intensity stemming from a passion that you had never seen him display so brazenly before. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It comes out as a whisper, barely louder than your moans as he leans closer to you, his every movement brushing against your most sensitive parts of you. There’s a broken, jagged edge to his tone, like a porcelain vase that had been broken and sanded down to prevent injury. Scars that never healed right. 

L continues to hold your gaze and the grip that he has on your body seems to tighten and grow even warmer.

You’re lightheaded, but still very much aware of your surroundings and of course, L. 

“It’s because I love you,” you whisper without any hint of irony or shame. Perhaps if you weren’t naked and swept up in his arms, maybe you might have thought twice about admitting such a thing, but in that moment, you wanted to be true to yourself. 

“I love you,” you say again. 

L holds you close, his dark eyed gaze never waving before you notice that the lines of his lips have softened and that one corner had lifted into a soft smile. Bending down, he presses a kiss–too chaste for this situation, but so very telling of his true desires–to your temple before he continues his ministrations from before, careful to keep his pace steady and his eyes focused on you. 

It didn’t matter if he didn’t say it back. 

His actions spoke otherwise. 

.

.

.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free: https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

"It's not poisoned."

You simply stared down into your bowl of soup, the contents of which was foreign to you and more than likely the product of whatever city you were taken to. Ten minutes ago, it was hot enough that the steam was gently wafting up to your face to coat it with condensation. Despite the disgust that bubbled in your stomach, desperately seeking to be let out, you held your tongue and remained focused on keeping calm. 

At this point, this was the only course of action you could take. 

For the past four weeks, three days, seven hours, and ten minutes, you had been surprisingly... cooperative for a person who had been held against their will. L supposed that it was psychology at work. After all, he had been nothing if not kind and accommodating to your needs. Every day, you were provided with nutritious meals, ample space for exercise, and access to a high quality shower and hygienic products. If anything else, you were cordial.

But that simply wasn’t enough.

If L had been trying to coerce you into admitting a crime through humane means such as this—as opposed to some of his more unsavory methods—he would have let you go already. However, that simply wasn’t the case. Rather, you were an innocent civilian who had been practically plucked off the street, your only connection to L only a byproduct of circumstance and coincidence. Had you been in the mood for banter, you would have brought up that topic once more, but you were tired. 

And you no longer cared. 

As your captivity stretched from days to weeks, which eventually morphed into months, you realized that there was no escape. Why even try? L had a vast array of resources at his very disposal. Wherever he went, there was sure to be a retinue of guards hiding somewhere within the premises, their gazes trained on you should you ever escape your captor’s grasp. 

And even if L wasn’t as powerful as your mind made him seem, he was still vastly intelligent and if need be, could quickly and physically overpower you. 

On all fronts, physical and mental, you were forced against the wall with nowhere to turn. 

So.

This.

You would comply. 

You would be quiet.

But that didn’t mean that you would bow down to his whims. 

As you continued to give your bowl of soup a glare that would have reheated it back to its steaming glory, L finally conceded to obey his baser desires. Normally, the famed detective would have left you to your own devices, often asking his closest advisor, a man that he called Watari despite his very British accent, to feed you instead. However, it had been at least two weeks since you’ve last spoken and even longer since you’ve raised a hand against him. Some might call what you were doing progress—a tamed beast. 

However, you were a far cry from who you were before. 

And L wanted you back. 

You heard him get up from his seat, his feet padding towards you before a cold, spindly hand grasped your chin. Disciplined and spiteful, you kept your mouth closed to keep your gasp from reaching his ears. If there was one thing you knew about L, it was that once you had given him the satisfaction, you might as well have let him win this battle of wills.

It had been a while since you had let down your guard, but you couldn't let up now. Hunger, which gnawed and clawed at the insides of your stomach and made your hands tremble with the aching need of want, you could ignore. Thirst, the heavenly fire that coated the insides of your throat with raw sand, you could mildly alleviate with the taste and heat from your saliva.

You were above human desires.

You could beat L at his own game.

In this way, you were better than L—top detective and most brilliant man most people would have killed to have met at least once in their life.

"The last time you refused to eat, you lasted three days before you gave up." He jerked your head up so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

The first time you met him, you had faced him the same way. That is to say, you kept your eyes trained downwards, your gaze never quite meeting his. You wouldn't say that you were shy, but you definitely were not confident in how you appeared before him.

But when you met gazes for the first time, you knew what L exactly was.

L was not human.

He was a parasite who wore the skin of a human as if it were a pair of ill fitting pants. He fed off your every emotion, the fights that you would instigate by not feeding into his delusional fantasies that one day you would cede your very soul and spirit to him. He knew better, of course he did, but that didn't stop him from staring at you as if you were a science project.

What could he do to manipulate you? To make you finally be his?

If physical violence didn't work, then what about promises of riches? Of delights that could only be experienced by those with power and influence like himself?

And if enticing you with human temptations such as that wouldn't be the thing to make you heel to him, then what about sweet honeyed words that dripped with a poison that would slowly but surely rot your brains and make you that much more malleable to his whims.

The day would come, you knew this, but until then, you tried to remain steadfast.

L's nails, freshly cut, dug deep into your skin.

"Shall I call Watari? We can have you fed intravenously if need be."

That threat had been hanging over your head ever since you began your quiet rebellion. Although you had managed to cave into your hunger before you were forced to give up your autonomy, you managed to glimpse L's faithful servant hauling in equipment that made your blood go cold. You knew that L was not against going against the law to achieve what he wanted most.

It was the results that mattered in the end, not how he got there.

At this point, you shouldn't be surprised, but...

It frightened you.

You were taken away from everything you had known, stripped of your most basic rights, and now, you were going to be force fed as if you were lower than an animal.

L crouched in front of you. Although appearing as if he were shorter than you, the control he had over the situation never wavered.

From the very beginning, you had no chance.

"Well?" His voice was monotone, but you could hear the mild mocking lilt underlying his voice. "What would you rather do?"

You could only comply, the idea of debasing yourself was too much.

You ate and every bite that slid down your throat was tasteless and ashy.

.

.

.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

You should have run when you had the chance. 

Years ago, when you had first met Russia, you had been just as nervous as the rest of your coworkers upon introduction. It was hard not to freeze up and back away at the very sight of him—over six feet tall and with a presence that demanded respect and attention. Even if you had exchanged minimal pleasantries, you felt your heart seize in your throat at the thought of continued conversation. 

That day, you vowed to never get on his bad side. 

However, while first impressions may have colored your perceptions of him at first, you found that Russia was a rather hilarious person once you got used to his blunt nature and dark humor. Witty and well read, whenever the both of you found each other alone (rare occasions, but you found yourself looking forward to them), Russia would give you battered books filled with his homeland’s poetry. Under hushed breath as other Nations milled around the room with political favors and current events in mind, Russia would translate bits and pieces of his favorite poems. 

Pushkin, Pasternak, Nabakov.

Krylov, Lermonov, Yesenin.

Derieva, Dushkova, Ivinskaya. 

You would have never known this had you not given Russia a chance, but his voice was comforting and soft. The way he would read in his native tongue first was to immerse you into his homeland’s most precious written words. Afterwards, as you would roll around the syllables and hushed breaths in your mind to try and recall the correct translation, he would gently transition into your native tongue. At first, his attempts were clumsy, but to know that he was willing to translate his most famous poetry into a tongue that wasn’t refined as his, filled you with warmth. Even as he apologized for his stumbling grammar and tenuous grasp on your vocabulary, you found yourself endeared. 

In time, you also began toting around books of poetry from your homeland. Like him, you would start with a hushed, reverent tone in your own tongue before transitioning into his native Russian. Before long, these private poetry sessions extended from the short breaks in meetings to scheduled rendezvous that could take you from cute cafes to expensive restaurants. 

Your other Nation friends were somewhat amused, but wary of the Russian’s intentions. Yet, they noted that your abilities to speak in the Slav’s tongue was becoming more fluent rather than practical. Furthermore, the interest in his culture and prolific bodies of literature had gone from professional curiosity to something bordering on close friendship. Yes, you had told your closest friends and colleagues, in the political arena Russia was a foe not to be ignored, but as a person who needed companionship just as anyone else? He was just a man. 

What you didn’t expect from such a man, was the treatment that followed afterward. 

Perhaps if you weren’t so loud about your friendship with Russia, if your friends hadn’t been so keen on butting into your affairs… Maybe if you had decided not to indulge in Russian poetry from the very beginning, you could have escaped without any hard feelings. 

The fact of the matter was this: 

Russia could be kind, but he had the choice to strip you away from everything you held dear. 

Russia could be gentle, but he also had the capacity for cruelty far beyond your imagination. 

Russia could have courted you and you would not have been the wiser had it not been for the fact that he felt slighted by your words. 

Did you not realize that after all the time spent with him that you could no longer be friends? Russia loved his literature beyond anything else in the world? The words of his patriots had uplifted not only his hearts, but also the souls of countless citizens living in his lands. Just because you were a fellow Nation that happened to stay with him during breaks in meetings didn’t mean that he would read to them about poetry and provide a translation in the language that most reminded them of home. 

No.

He only did that for you because you were special. 

Could you see him doing that for Lithuania? For America? For China?

You were special and he reserved that title just for you. How dare you throw that back in his face and claim that you were merely friends!

So, Russia took you. 

He hid you away in the depths of his wintry lands and away from prying eyes. From time to time, you would move from different abodes, from dacha to dacha, region to region. There was not one moment that you would be allowed to head back to your homeland, not without Russia’s permission at least. 

On one evening, after a few weeks of getting used to living near one of his cities, you finally got the courage to sneak out and board a train. It had taken some time, quick thinking, and gentle persuasion, but you had done it. Preparation had been tricky, but you managed to score a rucksack with a number of practical articles of clothing, documentation that proved that you were the representative of your home, and money. A part of you felt bad for stealing the money, but at this point, it was either you would go home or not at all.

And to many Nations who had the misfortune to be taken away to another Nation’s household, that was basically imprisonment and a one way road to a slow, but painful existence. It was rare for Nations to die when withheld for too long from their native soil, but it wasn’t unheard of. 

(It was a good thing that regeneration was available. However, it wasn’t exactly viable because it was a lengthy process that took up too much energy).

After two days of alternating from trekking around on foot and hitchhiking, you finally boarded a train. The platform was densely crowded, the packed bodies talking to each other about their plans and other inane chatter. You paid them no mind. Amidst the crowd, you were sure to be invisible. 

Finally, after what seemed like an inordinately long amount of time, you and the crowd began to head inside. Lugging your rucksack on your back, you passed by several compartments until you reached one that was empty. Inside, you took note of the available amenities before settling yourself onto the bed. While you had initially felt bad about the money that you took, you wanted revenge. Was booking the most expensive overnight train petty and dangerous? Probably, but after the torture Russia had put you through, you thought that it was appropriate. 

The worst that Russia could do once you were finally back home was to make accusations and point fingers. International incidents were supposed to be the product of human affairs, what Nations did between themselves on a purely personal level was up to the parties involved. 

Content now that you were on your way to nearest neighboring country who could help you, you unpacked a few of your essentials and began to settle in for the night. 

You were finally free. 

.

.

.

Russia was a patient man. 

Not many people knew that, but while he was quick to anger, he let the rage freeze and crystallize in his veins, the shards of ice hardening his heart. It had been a while since someone had incurred his wrath quite like this, but he knew from the telltale signs of his political aides and secretary shying away from him, that his temper was slowly bleeding into his normally personable disposition. If he was feeling charitable, he would have felt sympathetic, but at the thought of his lover traipsing away in the dead of night without so much as a goodbye, but with at least two months’ worth of his salary in their hands, he thought himself justified when he yelled at his secretary for their inefficient organization. 

Today, he was to board a train and attend a conference in his capital city. While he would rather search for his dearest lover, he knew that this meeting had to take top priority. If any of his neighbors or God forbid America found out that not only had he kidnapped one of their fellow Nations but also lost them… Russia was always ready for an altercation, but he would rather not have a repeat of the Cold War. 

As many of his citizens and a number of tourists gathered on the platform, he kept himself preoccupied at the very back of the crowd nearest to the train station. He arrived fifteen minutes early, keen on keeping to his appointment and knowing that if he stayed a moment longer, his volatile energy would have caused the humans under his direct command to be more skittish than usual. Poor things, them.

As he glanced up from his phone, his eyes scanned the growing crowd. Young children tagged along with their adult companions while a few couples mingled and held each other. At the sight, Russia felt his heart harden once more, the ice in veins refusing to melt even as he heard someone whisper about their plans for a future date. Moments before Russia could tune out the rest of the world, his eyes caught sight of a particular person who tried to keep themselves in the very middle of the crowd.

Now, normally this sort of person would have escaped Russia’s notice long before now, but he couldn’t help but stare. 

That rucksack. 

That coat. 

The stance. 

The figure underneath that heavy coat that was meant to conceal height and width.

Could it be…?

Suddenly, the crowd began surging forward onto the train, the person that Russia was observing followed suit. Hurriedly, Russia pushed forward, neglecting to act the part of a polite politician as he carelessly bumped into the humans who dared to get in his way. Had they no idea that they were in the presence of a Nation on a mission?

Woe to those who thought it prudent to demand recompense for his actions.

And hell to the rest of the train if he found out that the person he was tailing was not his beloved.

Close as a shadow, but not so close as to arouse suspicion, Russia trailed behind the figure. At this point, when he saw the person walking in the same rhythm as his lover, when he heard them mutter something under their breath, and when he paid careful attention to the rucksack on their back, he knew it was them. It had to be!

When his lover rounded the corner and faced their compartment door, Russia took note of the number and placement, carefully withdrawing from the area before his lover could see him. 

As he steadied the heavy beating of his heart, Russia flexed his large hands within his woolen gloves. He was feeling poetic and emotional, but he thought that the ice that froze his blood was steadily melting. 

He felt alive again.

But, if he were to have you in his arms again, he would truly be free.

As he strode back to his assigned compartment, he unlocked his phone and began contacting certain people and Nations for a few favors. 

You had missed out on last night’s poetry session. Perhaps you should rectify that, no?

.

.

.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

For me, Yandere L can be such an interesting character because he's not a person to be drawn to affection or be particularly wanting for a loving relationship. I think I've talked about this in previous posts, but I see him as a person to fulfill his sexual needs through various forms of stimulation like through sex workers or through toys. Not only is it efficient (no need to invest too much feeling), but it also decreases a security risk, especially if he pays them well.

So, it's not in L's nature to seek someone out for romantic needs, only sexual--and even then, it's just to fill a need.

As a yandere, you have to be something special for him to take an interest and fixate on you. You probably have to have an intelligence and the wit to keep up with him, the ability to look past his propensity for breaking the laws in the pursuit of bringing justice to others, and you have to realize that at the very beginning, you will not be as important as his work.

Eventually, as he gets to know you better, he will start to lurk more and more into your life. Security cameras? Hacked. Your social media profiles, your internet footprint, your emails? He has a bird's eye view on what you're doing. Your friends and family? He won't hurt them, but that won't stop him from threatening you.

And what are you going to do about it?

He's a nameless, powerful entity who has the entire world in the palm of his hand?

He's always five steps ahead of you and the entire time you're floundering and trying to escape his clutches, he'll be studying you and your every move. If he doesn't fully understand who you are as a person before his descent into possessing you and monopolizing your time, he will now.

It's almost like he doesn't see you as a person.

It's more like you're an experiment and behind those dark eyes of his, he's taking notes and listing different variables to introduce into this experiment of his.

Oh, but he's not always cold and calculating.

Sometimes, you can catch him being petulant and whiny, perhaps even depressed if you don't meet his expectations or if you fight back too much. Seeing him vulnerable (or what he chooses to display as vulnerable) is rare--a novelty. So, you can't exactly blame yourself when you want to engineer more situations where he can be vulnerable with you, so that you can see him more as a person than a man with too much power. And how do you engineer vulnerability from L?

You become more complacent. You want him to trust you so that you can be given more freedoms. So that you can be comforted when you're isolated. So that you can be treated better. So you can be granted special privileges like visiting your family and friends.

So you can convince yourself that this was consensual.

But, it's not true--not from his end, anyway.

It's all a ruse, a way to engender trust between two people.

Did you really think that he wouldn't think that far ahead so as to make sure that his personal feelings won't interfere with his goals?

He'll have you no matter what.