☆WRITTEN IN APRIL OF 2018☆

Aight so this might be somewhat offensive to people but if you don't like it, then please just don't read it. I know there's tons of stuff on here other people have put up that's not politically correct and/or slick against the rules so goddamnit imma do what I want, too.

Soooooooo that being said, this takes place sometime between 1941 and 1945 somewhere in Germany. Light's in charge of stuff....

Ugh...Nazi stuff. Blame Japan and their aesthetics for sexualising this shit. Also you may or may not be Jewish. They hated everyone. You just disagreed with them and did something about it. Idk all that matters is you in trouble. This might also be a tiny bit uh, forceful....so, yeah...let's just do this.

I was gonna make it a lemon but then my ass got all preachy instead and threw in a Schindler's List reference an this just went in entirely different/more morally upstanding direction as a whole after that.

{See attached Family Guy clip at the start of the chapter for a slight alleviation of the darkness within this little novella of sin.}

Lines indicate time skips.
There are author's notes at the beginning and end of each chapter, in the same formatting as the actual storyline part of the sections.
I thought it looked more informal that way and therefore it might be easier to get on board with the whole concept of what it's about if I didn't make everything as ORDERLY as the group of people in the spotlight herein.
(*☻-☻*)
Eh, I'm not sure. I overthink things.
Hopefully it's enjoyable!

_________________________
Befehl ist Befehl
An order is an order.
__________________________

"New prisoners! Get to the left!"

You stood there defiantly. These men wouldn't break you. You knew what this place was. You knew the end result of their plans, their aspirations, their endgame. They wanted to wipe everyone they deemed inferior off the face of the earth.

You'd fought against it, against the New World Order, against the man in charge here, one who believed himself to be God. The leader of your country was the only other person alive who's foolish pride surpassed that of Light. His ancestry was perplexing, his surname clearly not German.

Yagami. Commandant Yagami. How uniformly Aryan.

"You there!" A dog growled, bearing its fangs. You didn't flinch. You stared it down, fearless admits the chaos, the bleak promise of death. You championed the resistance. You'd allied with the French, gone to Paris for support. There was no way they'd let you live. A soldier pointed at you. You didn't listen to him when he told you to move.

He sized someone else from the crowd, a young, innocent boy with a yellow star on his shoulder. "So, you want to disobey? Do you want this to happen to you, too?"

Tears clouded your eyes as the man jabbed his gun against the boy's temple. You could hear his mother and sister begging, praying for his release, and all you could do was watch. "No!" You shouted, but it didn't matter. You had no power.

Nearby soldiers laughed as the child fell dead to the ground, hot, red blood pouring out onto fresh, clean snow.

You walked forward and stood by his mother, as she glared at you, moving away, shielding her daughter like it had been your fault her son was killed.

This was a death camp, and the chances of anyone getting out alive were abysmal. You'd die in this place.

Or at least, that's what you thought.

"What's going on down there?"

You turned your face upwards, shielding your eyes from the sun as it's rays cast off the brick towers of the ovens. You could smell the stench of charred remains, of melted flesh amidst the sickly sweet aroma of beer and sausages from the villa looming overhead. A man called down to you.

"Herr Commandant!"

"Stop! Don't proceed any further. I'm coming down."

You swallowed hard as the dog beside you wagged his tail, anticipating his master's decent upon an unwilling public loathe to receive him.

Several tense, quiet moments later, you heard the soft crunching of boots against powdered snow. It was as tough the Devil Himself had come to walk amongst the damned: a beautiful, twisted angel- younger than his subordinates, yet more terrifying than any man you'd ever seen.

Not even the Führer Himself frightened you so significantly. "What's going on here?" He looked to his left at the little boy in the snow. "Why did you kill him?"

"One of the prisoners wouldn't do as instructed." You stared to breathe rapidly. You weren't afraid of dying, but a quick and easy death wasn't this man's preference. He tortured people. He was sick, sadistic, and he acted alone. The other soldiers fell silent as the higher ranking officer pointed at you. "Her."

You straightened up and raised your head. You'd been suffering: hungry, weak and cold from being shipped away from your temporary home, your place of refuge in Vienna, like cattle in a boxcar. You were thirsty, and even the blood on the white ground looked tempting. You hated yourself, but you hated him more. You wouldn't let him win- not in the way he wanted. He smiled, leeringly, and stepped forward, patting the panting dog on the head.

"Oh? A resistor." He'd reached you and he placed his hand on your chin. "What's your name, girl?"

"{F/N, L/N}." You added something else. "I know who you are, and I'm not afraid of you."

"Is that so?" He nodded to the man beside him, who bowed his head and offered him a long, flat stick: a riding crop. He raised his hand high behind him and brought it down. You screamed as your ears rang. White light flashed behind your eyelids, and you raised a hand to your head. When you held it back to your face, it trembled as blood trickled down past your wrist. Tiny drops dotted the snow. Still, you raised your head back up.

"Fuck you." He positively beamed as he repeated his previous gesture, this time harder. You heard a different child start to cry, then another gunshot rang out. Muffled sobs filled your ears distracting you from the blaring ringing, stronger than before. He said nothing as you looked him in the eyes once more. Your vision ran red. "Fuck you, Herr Commandant, and your mixed, filthy Japanese blood." You spit on the ground, and he hit you again. This time a few soldiers cleared their throats, almost as though they were in agreement.

"How DARE you insinuate that I'm unfit to live here! Do you know who I am, what I can do to you if you don't submit to me?" You lifted your face up, not averting your eyes for one moment.

"Do whatever you want to me. You don't scare me. You'll lose in the end. The war won't go on forever and you know the Americans are turning the tides against us. Soon I'm sure your relatives back in Tokyo -or Nagasaki or wherever the Hell they are- will know defeat just the same. They'll burn. You'll burn. They'll hang you, one day, whether you kill me or not."

He had allowed you to speak. You weren't sure why he didn't cut you off, and you anticipated another blow. It didn't come. Instead, you heard a rifle cock. Would he shoot you here?

"Very well. If you think we'll lose, then by all means put your faith in a nation who cares no more for you than they do for anyone else." He stepped forward, whispering in your ear and hoisting you up by your collar. "Don't you know how rotten this world is? Everyone only cares about themselves." He dropped you, and you fell to the ground. He laughed. "Get up."

You faced the snow this time, not rising or moving a muscle. "No. If you want me to obey you, Light, then you might as well shoot me now!" You raised your head up again to glare at him. "I will never submit to you!" He pointed his gun at you, and you closed your eyes.

Two pairs of hands grabbed you, tugging you to your feet. Grunts from henchmen briefly muffled the sounds of an order, but you heard him.

"Shoot the rest of them. She's the only one worth the expense, anyway, given what it costs to run this place. Bring her up to me. She can be my maid."

You struggled against the men holding you back, but they grabbed your neck and pushed it downwards. You couldn't even turn around to see the other prisoners' faces as they screamed in unison before being shot one by one.

_____________________

Your palms slapped against hardwood, polished and shining in the glow of the sun.

"Get up." He kicked you with the toe of his boot. "Get UP!"

"No!" You were hunched over on all fours, the blood from the beating he'd given you made your hair matted and sticky. "Go to Hell!"

"I'd rule there too, you know." He laughed, this time it sounded almost innocent, childish. "Get up, {Y/N}." He knelt down and offered you his hand. You didn't buy any of it. He was tricking you.

You were right. The second his falsified kindness failed he slapped you as hard as he could across the face, yanking you up by your hair. "You will do as you are are told! Do you hear me?"

"I will not!" You clawed at his hands and he shook you around.

"Yes you will!" He threw you against the nearby wall, and you heard a crunch as your shoulder cracked against it. He laughed again as he stood over you. "Strip." You laughed that time, repeating your earlier threat.

"Fuck you, Light Yagami." He crouched down, once more docile.

"I'm sure you'll mean that eventually." You'd never hated anyone more in your entire life. "Women love me." You scoffed.

"Do they know you do this?"

He didn't reply. "You're dirty. Take off your clothes. If you don't, I'll do it myself." He stood back up and folded his arms. "As a gesture of goodwill I'll let you do so unsupervised." He nodded in the direction of a washroom. "You can use my shower." He laughed again. "And don't worry." He tapped your foot with his as you remained bent over. "Only water will come out this time."

You waited several minutes after he trekked out before you quickly undressed and bolted into the bathroom, shutting the door and barricading it with whatever additional means of structural protection you could find. Luckily, he already was downstairs, planning some other form of torture.

_____________________

Steam filled the bedroom as you opened the door and stepped gingerly away from the smaller, more private space. You thought he'd gone to the first floor, or at least he'd stay there, but as you moved into sight, holding only cleaning rag across you for coverage, he was there, waiting. As you tried to back into where you'd been and slam the door, he stood up from where he'd been siting and blocked your path. Your chest bounced up and down as the pitiful excuse for a towel fluttered to the tiled ground. You tried to use your hands, making the choice to cover your lower half in place of the top, but he grabbed your wrists. You were a virgin. This wasn't how you pictured your first time.

"Please, stop." He let one of your arms go, and it fell beside you, limply dangling as he hoisted you up by the other, still sore from the harsh slam against the wall. "Please not this...I'm not...I'm..."

"Oh I know. You don't act like someone who's gotten around." He leaned in. "It's a shame you almost died without doing so, though. It does feel really good."

"Are you going to kill me?" You hoped he'd at least tell you that much. "Eventually?"

"No." He laughed. "How could I ever enslave a dead girl?"

"Enslave?" You were able to laugh, too, oddly enough. It was funny, a joke. "You've got to be delusional. They should stick you in one of those chambers until you suffocate for being a lunatic."

He threw you back down to the ground. Your head struck the gold claw of the bathtub. "I was going to wait, to make you warm up to me, but I guess that's not going to be an option." You flipped over, so you were facing upwards.

"I told you you could do whatever you wanted. I'm not going to take orders from you. I'll never listen to you, but you're a man. Men are weak. You might just become mine to control if you choose this route."

He let out a shaky breath as you opened your legs. "Are you crazy?"

"According to you and your men, I am." He leaned against the doorway, running a hand through his hair, loosening his own collar. He seemed to be fighting something, and you could tell he was turned on by your willingness to do this, but rather than act on it, he instead turned away and tossed bundle of black fabric at you.

"If you love the French so much, put that on. Then come down to the kitchen. Since you're going to make a point of insulting all men, I'll have to remind you of what women are good for." You slowly got to your feet, but before you fully found the strength to stand, he veered once more around, desire and hatred in his eyes. "But trust me, I'll have you on your back again soon." He laughed and hit the side of the door. "It's not fun if you want it. I'm not interested in consent."

Your emotions had forsaken you as you began to cry, each sob a traitor, every tear a betrayal.

______________________

"Ah! {Y/N}, How wonderful it is to see you complying so quickly!" You'd put on the uniform Light had given you. You had no choice. Your old clothes had been thrown out and you had nothing else to wear.

He was seated at a table, low standing and dark, as the same German Shepard from before lay curled around his feet. A steaming cup of coffee emitted a hot, smoky aroma that reminded you how starving you actually were. You licked your lips almost involuntarily. He noticed. "Want something?" He held up a pastry. "Do you prefer sweets or more savoury foods?"

"Water."

"Oh. Right." He tossed the biscuit to his dog. You were still hungry and it hurt to watch the beast devour it. He rose to his feet as he brushed past you, yanking open an icebox. "Here." He handed you a cup, dropped a few cubes into it, then reached behind you for a kettle. It was just about to boil. He flicked open the cap and poured it out. It overflowed and scalding water burned your hands, dripping down to your bare feet. You whined, despite your unwillingness to show fear or pain. He slammed the pot on the stove. "Drink."

"It's still too hot! It'll burn me." He grabbed the tin cup from you and shoved it against your face, grabbing your nose with his other hand. Eventually you had to open your mouth to breathe, and he forced the liquid down your throat. It stung and burned with each further push of the hot metal against your lips, until every last bit of the water was gone. You coughed; droplets pelted his face. He struck you as you did so, then wiped them off with the back of his hand.

"Disgusting." Your lips quivered as you struggled to breathe again. He smirked. He liked it when you just couldn't bear it any longer. "{Y/N}, do you have any domestic experience?"

You spit again, but it wasn't like the last time. Saliva hung against your chin, accompanied by a numb tingling sensation that made your speech come out funny. "Y-y-yes. My family wasn't that rich. We all pitched in."

He looked disappointed. "Oh. Well. At least you weren't ever someone else's maid."

"N-no." You turned your head to the side as he put his lips against your neck. He kissed you between more frequently occurring bites, as he raised another hand to your throat, clamping down hard, cutting off your air supply. Your vision clouded, this time black circules replaced the white flashes from before. He lowered his other hand to your midsection, rubbing it in circles, as though stroking the mother of his child.

"Did you know there's a game people play, where they choke themselves for fun? Or they try it on their fiends." He knew you couldn't respond. It was rhetorical. "When you come, it's supposed to make it more breathtaking than anything-" he squeezed harder before he let you go enough to wheeze. The air hurt as the burning from before came back twice as strong. This was debilitating. "- else you could think to do." He laughed at his own twisted pun.

You didn't think you could find a way to escape this Hell, but you considered an insane option then and there, solely because he was already implying his plans for you. He wanted to do what all sadistic men did: watch you suffer while he dominated and degraded you. You decided to act. You didn't mind the thought of rough sex any more than you feared death, but you wanted to do it on your own terms. If you could act like some of what he did hurt or scared you when it didn't, and in turn make him think what you actually could enjoy if it were a different time or place caused you immense pain, you could downplay what actually did cripple you- and you'd win.

It'd be a Pyrrhic victory, but one you'd take the chance of rather than risk nothing at all and remain trapped. You saw your mark, and kneed him. He winced, and his dog barked.

"How DARE you try to fight back!" He pinned your hand to the wall and did the same to you. You clutched your stomach as he grinned, basking in your pain. "You think you can take me?"

You let the tears flow, and worked hard to blubber. "I-I-I'm not...I'm not...afraid..."

He held your chin in his available hand. "You should be." He let your other hand fall. "Now. If you want, I'll give you an option. You can do what I say, or I'll shoot you in the leg, tie you up, and we'll play that game together." You cried.

"Please, Sir..." you immediately noticed his suspicion and quickly changed your tactics, straightening up. "Sorry. I'd never call you that. I think I must've been talking to Death. I'm so ready to meet him."

"You are crazy." He continued his ultimatum, and thankfully your plan wasn't thwarted. "But I respect your disdain for authority. Even so," he slid his belt out of its loops. "An order is an order. You can call me Light after this, but I want you to call me master just this once."

He raised his hand again, just like the first time. "Never." He whipped you, tearing down the front of the frilly white apron covering the black dress he made you wear. It caused a red welt to rise almost at once.

He repeated himself. "An order is an order! Do you want me to shoot you like the animal you are?"

"That would be preferable!"

"I'll cripple you! I will never give you what you want! You want to die?" He whipped you again. "I won't let you!" He laughed as you raised your hands to defend yourself. He grabbed one in his, once more coddling. "What else do you want in that tiny bleeding heat of yours?"

"The last thing I'd ever want is for your filthy, unclean hands to lay a finger on me."

"You know what?" He tore down almost the entire top of your dress. "If you didn't have the face of an angel, I'd know you were lying to me." He shoved you against the wall. "Fuck what I said about consent. You're as much in denial about this as I am."

"What?" You panted as he slid his hands down. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think I want to do this? I'm not evil. I'm pretty much God myself. When I first started this-" he grabbed your ass, and you forgot your prior plans for a moment. "My goal was to rid the world of sin. I wanted to create a world where only good people existed." You laughed only for a moment as you felt him relax a little. "I didn't know how far this would go, how bad it would get here. I never wanted to become this monster."

You didn't believe him. You thought he'd tried his own diversionary tactics. Using kindness to draw out sympathy only to crush it was something he'd demonstrated in smaller doses just hours ago. "You can't be telling the t-t-truth." He bit you repeatedly between breaths, his tongue moving in swirls against your neck.

"I am." He pulled away, and grabbed your hand. "You want to see something I've never showed anyone else?"

You huffed. "No."

"Well I don't care. You're coming with me anyway."

"Oh yeah? Where?"

He actually lifted you up over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs. You kicked and attempted to break free but you couldn't. He slammed you down on his bed, yanking open a drawer and casting what looked like scrap paper all over the room. The grand majority of the off-white sheets swirled around you on the surface of the fine linen duvets funded by corruption and greed. "These are pages from a Death Note."

You laughed again. "Is that some sort of new, super-secret master plan you and your friends in the SS came up with?"

"No." He forced a slip of paper into your hand and pulled you to the window. He pointed down at the soldiers below you, singling out the one who had shot the little boy. "That's Ralph Müller. You know what his face looks like. Picture it in your mind, then write his name down."

Again, you laughed. "You do it." He didn't hit you. Instead he pulled you into his arms, holding you against him, in a normal, affectionate embrace. You could feel his heart beating, almost indicative of remorse, like he meant what he said. He let you go and you staggered back, holding your head.

"Please, just do one thing you're told to do."

"An order's an order." You agreed solely because you hated Ralph Müller. If this really was true, then he'd die. That was enough to try.

You closed your eyes and took the pen from the adjacent table. You wrote his name down and waited. Nothing happened. "You lied!" You fell back, landing sluggishly against the windowpane.

"It takes forty seconds. There are actually a lot of rules. Just watch." You waited for what seemed like much longer than several seconds and the exact moment the final interval was up the man began shouting, clutching his chest, swaying around as though drunk before collapsing to the cold, slushy snow as it had begun to melt slightly in the sun. A few nearby prisoners looked excitedly at each other, but none dared cheer or show any sign of mirth over his death.

You looked at Light in astonishment before grabbing one of the pieces of paper. He knew what you were trying to do the moment you acted and he convinced you to stop before you could even consider writing his name down.

He grabbed your wrist. Your other hand still held the pen. You could have at the very least stabbed him with it.

"You have NO idea how this thing works. I know every last rule. Do you really think you'd be able to kill me using my own weapon?"

You didn't anymore, and you let the pen fall. "Why then? If you had all this power, why didn't you use it for good in the first place?"

He paced over and sat down on top of his comfortably ornate bed. "I tried to, but this war, it got to me. It made everyone do terrible things. It brought out a side of me I didn't know I had. I like hurting people. I loved seeing you scream and cry just now. No matter how badly I try to be good, I guess, in the end, I'll just have to admit I'm evil." He grinned and stood back up, and he raised a hand. You flinched, knowing your brief moment of sympathy was in honor of yet another lie. He hesitated, and you looked up, blinking in absolute astonishment. He was crying.

Neither of you could say anything for a long time after that but eventually, despite everything he'd done, you reached out your hand, and wiped away the moisture from his face.

"Just because you're a terrible person doesn't mean we all are. The world is only as lost as we make it. If you think there's a chance you could be anything other than cruel, I pray you'd take it. It's never too late to change, Light."

He was stunned, genuinely, though you had no way of knowing that then. "Who...who are you?"

"You know my name, dumbass." You sighed and continued. "I know this sounds crazy, but I think mercy, forgiveness and absolution are the strongest forces in the world. You have power now because you can kill arbitrarily. You shouldn't. Real power is having every reason to kill someone and not killing them."

"Is it because they'd be in your debt after that or some other similar flawed logic?"

"No. It's because the only true person" you accentuated that word carefully. "Who holds the power of objetive mercy is God. You think you're God? Prove it. Pardon people. Let them go."

"You just want me to let you go. Nice try." He pulled you back to him.

"I'll make you an offer. You leave me alone for a little while, just enough time to kill me. Say, six minutes or so?" You'd chosen the time at random, not knowing it was mentioned in one of the many rules Light spoke of before. He was impressed, but gave you no sign. "Write my name down if you have to-"

"You told me you wanted to die."

"Okay then! How's this?" You reached up and forced his lips against yours. You broke away after your best attempt at a kind, loving kiss and spoke as endearingly as you could despite the cruel, brutal nature of your remarks. "I don't consent. I want you to let me go. I think you're evil, and I want only to shoot you. I wish you'd kill me and I think you're disgusting and the farthest thing from God there is. I don't think you've ever been good and I know that's true because you just ordered the death of scores of women and children who meant nothing to you. You're beyond redemption." You inhaled. "But even though all of that is what I think, God -the real God- would still forgive you if you wanted Him to."

"Could you ever forgive me?"

"Give me a reason to. Let. Me. Go."

He closed his eyes, and wrestled with the choice. No one had ever told him anything like what you just had. He opened them again, and he was clearly touched by what you'd professed. "Fine." He nodded. "You can leave. Better yet, take this." He handed you a folded envelope. "They're forged travel papers. I don't care what my friends at the SS say you are: that you're undesirable. Get out. Don't come back. If you're interested in saving the world, then go do it. It's a lost cause, though. You'll be disappointed."

You never thought it'd work. You ran the second you could tug your dress back up all the way.

He called after you as you raced away. "I'll tell them I killed you, and if they don't hang me, I'll come find you one day!"

You called back. "Then I hope they do hang you!"

"That's a lie! Oh, and {Y/N}!" You skidded to a stop. You didn't want anyone to hear you.

"What, Light?"

"If that day should come, we're going to finish our game! An order is an order! I take back what I said before. Next time we meet, I want you to call me GOD."

You didn't reply, but you hoped he'd truly try to do the right thing. If he did, you'd call him whatever the Hell he wanted.