#2p Austria

[ask-2p-hetaliaaa]

Roland after SO LONG!!

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

i really enjoyed your yandere allie’s being broken up with post! could you do one for a yandere 2p axis as well? thank you in advance :) sincerely, a yandere lover

(Y/N) stood in the doorway, a bursting duffle bag digging into her left shoulder while her hands tightly grasped the strap. Licking her lips, she murmured.

“I-I can’t do this anymore. We’re over.”

Japan: Kurai’s dull, garnet eyes slowly drifted from the paperwork on his dark, cherrywood desk to his Sakura blossom. He noticed the crystal tears that threatened to bubble over like an unspoken plea for mercy, terrified quivers that made her shake and tremble like a kitten left to die in the coldest December blizzard.

A shark-like smirk split his face as he cooed her pet name. “We have only three days until we are wed, do you really want to dishonor your family by calling it off?”

Trying to leave Kurai’s web is like trying to pull a live rat off a glue trap. He will manipulate you into staying by pulling at your sense of duty. It starts by mentioning all the people who will be disappointed should you two split. If you continue to insist that you are done. Then it will begin to get violent.

Kurai drags you with a bruising grip to a hidden white room, the door locking as he leaves you in isolation. For two weeks all you see is white, even the very food and dishes become that vile color.

At the lock’s click and hinge's squeak, you hoped in vain that Kurai had come to his senses. Finally letting you leave this hell. In reality, you saw red. A lot of red, of much so that he claimed it was to shine the honor that your ‘threat’ had tarnished.

Germany: Groaning, Luther popped his neck with a loud crack as he raised his scarred body from the worn, leather couch. His blond brow raised in a questioning manner. “What are jou talking about?”

He watched with cold, tired eyes as (Y/N) took a deep breath before forcing the horrible statement again from her throat like a lion cub’s first roar.

Chuckling, Luther shook his head as he held his out his calloused hand.

 “Come now, Kätchen. Let’s nap on it before we do anything.”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) backed up. She screamed a loud no, before sprinting down the hall. Her bag swung and bruised her hip as slammed against the wooden door and fumbled with the slippery knob.

The click of the locking mechanism quickly became a loud slam as the door was forced to close again. (Y/N) now frozen still from the man she was trying to escape.

“Vhat made jou think I was asking?”

Luther is quick to forgive. A simple bow to his demands will quell his anger in ways that could be used against him. IF, he wasn’t already suspicious of all behaviors leading up to your foolish declaration. The missing objects, full cardboard boxes hidden in the closet, and failed attempts at distancing yourself from him.

Your announcement is what causes the iron fist to finally drop.

Similar to the ‘fighting and married’ bit, he begins with house arrest while retrieving all the items you’ve sneaked out. Any found attempts of planning to escape will lead Lutz to become more controlling and to harsher punishments.

What makes it worse, is that even on the darkest nights, locked in the rusted, gilded cage and draped in heavy, silver chains, Luther will remain outside the door. Murmuring promises of a better life and love, if only you agree to stay and obey. Forever.

Prussia: It had been two weeks since Wilheim let (Y/N) go. Two weeks of hoping she would return, of hoping she would realize how deeply their souls were intertwined. Fourteen days he had been pained by a wounded heart, that felt like each weak beat may be its last without his Maus.

He could bear it no longer when he watched as she set off with another man. The bright laughter and innocent blushes told him all he needed to know. With the flutter of his cloak, Wilheim set out to reclaim what he had lost.

Wilheim’s long, blood-stained life has taught him a lot. One such lesson is the use of free will. He hopes by letting you go for a time that you will come back, but as the time goes on without even a text from you, Wilheim begins to crack.

His cracks start small by stalking and recording. But as he hears how happy you are to be away and the proud compliments from friends about escaping the abuse, they become large fissures within his psyche

The last straw is your attempt to move on. That was the night he drags you back once the date is done. Questioning you on why you would betray him, did the time you spent together mean nothing?

With eyes like a burning ocean, Wil will force you into a small cell. Its tight walls only allow you to stand or sit. As the days wear on, you’ll find yourself taking comfort in Wilheim by your own volition.

He is the only one to open the door. So, doesn’t he deserve your love?

Austria: Jon cocked his head in a similar fashion to his little bat. Observing her intently as (Y/N) shuffled. She, at first, might have thought it was cute until a demonic laugh erupted from his pale throat. Heavy heaves for breath causing his chest to sink in showing his ribs in the tight, red shirt before expanding outward like an organic balloon, that no one could properly fill.

“That’z a funny yoke meine Queen.” Jon wiped a tear from his red eyes. “But, vhile jou here, did jou pick a place for dinner?”

(Y/N) shook her head quickly and muttered a no. “I-I’m breaking up with you, don’t you understand that?”

A loud sigh came from Jon as he stood from the leather couch. His heeled boots clicked against the wooden floor as closed the distance on the cowering woman.

“Of course I do, but” he looked at his shiny, black polished nails. “if jou really vant to, zhen go for it. Juzt don’t be zurprized vhen zomeone dizappearz.”

Jon lives in an odd mix of delusion and reality. He will take the smallest acts of obedience and view it as you submitting to and loving him. Every moment of rebellion shows him how far he still has to go until you are ready to be his Queen of the Night.

Since, you’ve decided to walk out the front door, consider the threat now a prophecy. He will start with the disappearance of a close friend. At first, you may dismiss it, until a body is found and the red words ‘come home’ are painted on the alley wall.

During your mourning, you try to tell the police of the possible lead. That Jon may be the cause of it all. Yet, it all falls on deaf ears as they explain that man doesn’t exist.

You, wanting justice, decide to confront him and run to his home, expecting a fight. Instead, you find an open door that reveals a dark house. Stepping inside, you feel a cold chill and gasp as the door shuts behind you, locking you in. Before you continue your forced path forward, you notice the shadows move like dancing snakes.

A quick glance and scratching at the light switch reveal no working lights. You scream when you feel the first shadow latch onto your ankle. Attempting to pull you through the floor. Shaking and pulling doesn’t help as more attach, eventually pulling you into an inky blackness. Ensuring that Jon’s pale skin is the brightest thing you see in your world of eternal night.

Spain: Armando’s eyes slowly lifted from the stacks of paper in front of him. His quill rested limply against his rough fingers as he took (Y/N)’s form in wholly.

 He noted her straight lip tremble at its edges, the subtle scrapping of her nails over the nylon bag straps as his silence continued. She shuffled an inch back whenever he twitched or breathed too loud, before shakily regaining the lost ground. Though, she remained tense, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

His question shattered the silence like a hammer to a mirror.

“You want to leave me?”

“Y-yes, I do.” She nodded as her heels dug against the wooden floor.

“Well,” Armando stood before walking to a large glass and oak display case. His hand gripped the wooden handle as he opened it, reached in, and pulled out a large, silver axe. “I think that we should let a simple game decide our fate.”

This man isn’t going to let you go. End of story.

But! That doesn’t mean it will be a simple no with slices to disable your legs. No, Armando doesn’t work that way. He’ll have fun by forcing you to play a game, his favorite to be specific.  Axe throwing.

If you are one to see the dark side of his world from the beginning, then you’ll know that your chances are low, even if you have thrown axes before. He won’t play fair, offering damaged axes and using a target that is just a little too far out of reach.

Most likely, you were kept in the dark. Not fully knowing the amount of blood that stained his hands. Your axes are sharp, but the target itself is dry, hardwood. Your muscles were never meant to throw with the power to dent such a mass, and it didn’t. You could only watch in fear as Armando hit consistently a bull’s eye each time from a different angle.

Depending on how badly you lose will determine what comes next. If Armando absolutely destroyed you, then he’ll keep his punishment simple. A quick snip to one of your Achilles tendons and being locked in a room with minimal contact for a couple of weeks with only him to rely on will help subdue your fire without snuffing it.

If you presented a challenge to him, then it would be worse. A debilitating injury to hinder your chances of escape mixed with a strict schedule of labor on the farm and obedience training. This mix will drown any thoughts of rebellion, leaving behind a fearful shell of yourself that is easier to control.

Italy: The silence of (Y/N)’s statement reverberated off the walls as Luciano set his wine glass on the dining room table. His leather-gloved hands came together to intertwine as a chinrest while he leaned back into the wooden chair—a large grin on his face as he sized up his darling fiancée.

“What made you think that was your call? When you agreed to be mine,” He stood, slamming his hands down as he leaned forward on the table, the taunting smile turned to a vicious snarl in a mere blink. “It meant until the day the world stopped turning when Italia would be wiped off the map and forgotten about by the fragile minds of mortal men. NOT because you got cold feet! NOT W-“

“I NEVER AGREED TO THE BLOODSHED!” She sobbed; the dam of emotions finally bursting. “You are nothing more than a monster that feeds off the mutilated flesh of your victims. Always looking for an excuse to kill again!”

(Y/N)’s declaration shocked Luciano like he had been bitten by a hidden viper. His eyes were wide as his focus never left the woman he loved.

She backed up a few steps. Hesitance caused her frame to tremble, before she turned her back to him. “I’m leaving, goodbye.”

It was only a few steps before the sound of maniacal laughter accompanied the sound of whistling metal. 

(Y/N) gasped, before collapsing. As the laughter came closer, she saw three knives embedded within her flesh. All lay within her lower half, making the mere thought of running from the mad Mafioso impossible.

“Oh, Tesoro.” Her head snapped up to view the smiling Italian. “You’ll be staying with me forever.”

After your shouting match and injury, Luciano will decide it's time to retrain. After all, you’ve shown him that your loyalty was false. Nothing more than a piece of tin that needed to be forged into something stronger. Something steadfast.

He will take the time to rebuild you. Each step toward what he wants means healing, rebellion just creates additional injury. Eventually, you’ll either break into a creaked and numbed doll, or you’ll be the perfect wife, trustworthy enough to join Luciano in the flames.

Romano: (Y/N)’s stomach flipped as Fabrizio stepped closer, his questions ignored as she turned her back. She was ready to run, pushing her legs to their limit as she forced her stride to be at its max.

It wasn’t enough.

A small dart with a fuzzy tip, no thicker than the graphite of a #2 pencil and no longer than a standard ballpoint pen, had sailed into her thigh.

The mosquito-like sensation caused her to pause. Gingerly, (Y/N) tapped the object, before pulling it free. As she stared at it the world began to blur and sway. One dart became two, then four and more. Her attempts for balance failed as a numbing sensation crawled from the hit point.

Falling due to weakened legs, (Y/N) gasped as the marble floors caught her. She heard Fabrizio speaking, his voice muffled as blackness started to flood from her periphery. As the drug took its hold, the last thing she felt was the warmth of her devil’s hands.  

To Fabrizio, it was a sin to end the relationship. He has done so much for you; creating fabulous outfits, spoiling you with various luxuries, and most important of all gifting you something precious, his love. When you ended it, allowing him no time to rebuttal, he threw away his dramatic flair. A quick shot of a special sedative, and you’re down and out.

As you’re fainting, Fabrizio will give his monologue. He rants about how he won’t allow one of the purest things to grace him to just walk away. No, it was time you learned your place.

When you finally awake, the world feels off. Firstly, you’re upright with legs bound to steel bars. Secondly, it’s a new, strange room. Your stand is surrounded by glass-encased mannequins, all dressed in outfits from many different eras. Some outfits go back further than the Dark Ages.

A subtle tightening sensation on the chest would distract you. Taking away from the strangeness of the room. Looking down you would see a white, velvet corset with silver steel rivets. Your breath quickened as the constriction continued, while your arms felt paralyzed. Black spots would reappear in your vision as a hushed chuckle brushed against your ears.

“Mia Bambola, it’s-a time you learn to listen.”

[1p2p-heta-imagines]

2p Austria wardrobe Headcanons plzzzz

[amory444]

Listen... I love transfem Austria... BUT 2P TRANSFEM AUSTRIA IS A NEED.

[i-will-eat-your-spleen]

2P Hetalia as The Eric Andre Show Quotes

2P Romano- “Bitches be shopping”

2P France- “Are you combing my hair for lice?”

2P Prussia- “I wanna get taxidermied”

2P China-“You gotta eat the whole lettuce”

2P America: “Freedom ain’t not free!”

2P England- “If you see a knife go away from it”

2P Germany- “My seat feels like, uh, like it’s alive or something”

2P Spain- “What do you think the Holy Ghost looks like? Is it like a zombie or something?”

2P Italy- “You into guns?”

2P Japan- “Do I regulate? Always”

2P Russia- “Alright, it’s time to play These Are People!”

2P Austria- “Hey have you ever heard a guitar before? They’re like whoa-woo-wee-wo-wee”

2P Canada- “The microphone is dripping”

[2p-hcmaker]

This is a little weird but can I get 2p's reaction to them practicing asking out they crush and the crush walks in on them? If you need specifics; FACE fam, Romano, Prussia and Austria (not sure which one you write for and I apologise if there's a character limit)

2p! France: "How'd you get in here?" Louise isn't the sappy practice-asking-out-your-crush type, at least he doesn't want anyone to think that. In general paranoia he's locked every door and window and practically barricaded the door to his room, so the fact your standing here is hard to understand.

2p! America: "WHOA- HEY HOLD ON." General screaming ensues. His practicing was sort of impromptu from passing by a mirror, so he's not very aware of his surroundings and is easy to walk in on. He'll freak out and use it as a cover to essentially ignore what you've walked in on.

2p! Canada: "I guess this is it..." It's time for him to face the music. This is it. Not asking you out, but committing to living in the forest and never seeing humans again because this was the most embarrassing thing that could have ever happened. He'll make eye contact, then turn around slowly and walk towards to the nearest tree.

2p! England: "Oh dear, how ~*Terrible*~" Typical blushes and mutters of embarrassment, but something about it feels a little too coincidental. Not that you'd ever accuse this Englishman of setting up a story-book perfect scene, but it wouldn't be shocking.

2p! Romano: "No not right now!" It's not the fact you walked in on him practicing, it's that he's dressed for it. Probably one of his nicest outfits on makes this more of a dress rehearsal than a practice. Besides, he wants his outfit to be a surprise, just like the confession.

2p! Prussia: *Is dead* Oh no, you've killed him. Gilen.EXE has stopped working, please contact support for troubleshooting options.

2p! Austria: "I can make this work." Ronan has always been one to excel at thinking on the fly, so practicing has never been his preference. It might be a bit clumsy, but there is not time like the present!

[shamangus]

2p Austria is just rock/punk.

[fireandiceland]

Top 3 fics of yours that you wish everyone would read—GO! Then remember to pass this on to at least 5 other people ❤️

Ohh I think I've answered one of these before but I will gladly take this opportunity to do it again 🧡

Illusion of choice (ame x reader x can, explicit) I worked so hard on this one, partly because it's a gift and partly because I'm already a perfectionist, and I'm so fucking proud of how it turned out. Admittedly I haven't reread it in a while but the time will come and in the meantime why don't you read it and let two.. friends? brothers? rivals? lure you into their bedroom..

Unwinding Mr. Kirkland (eng x 2p ame, explicit) Another one that I worked on for a long time because I had a very vivid image of what I want it to be in my head and it took a while to really express it so other people will hopefully see my vision. I'm just completely in love with this one so please if you want to make me happy check it out and I hope you will love it too.

5 times Roland tries to ask Gillen out on a date + 1 time he actually does (2p aus x 2p pru, teen) I know crack fics aren't for everyone and this is definitely one of them, but I had the absolute best time writing this. Like fr I was laughing while writing and reading it over and over again. And! The last chapter is not crack but very genuine and very sweet if I may say so. So why not make my year and give this one a try?

[bunny-bun-draws]

Commissions done during October (and some this month)! Thanks as always for your support x3

Credits:

Lozi (Chibi sketch couple)

@lillystarreds (Chibi sketches)

@frosty-talks (Chibi sketch)

@cyb3rn1t3 (Chibi style 2)

Morgan (Pets)

Goth (Half body, full color, with background)

[the-doll-house-gallery]

Some sketch requests I've done

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Hello! Can you please write about the 2p Axis (btw I especially love your writings about 2p Italy and 2p Romano! Love, love,love!) about the darling ask of the escaped and vanished for about a year and then one day they see them out in public ? Please and thank you for all that you write, it makes my day better ,always.

I don’t think I can iterate how thankful I am for how patient you guys are when you get your asks done.

The popping of colorful, confetti from their paper cannons and the cheers of a crowd full of delight rang out like the happy howls of a wolf pack.

Their loud songs of joy were directed toward the mayor’s marble balcony as he marched to the end of the platform. He looked down at them with a stressed smile as he welcomed them all to the summer celebration while sweeping his large arm to open the holiday event for everyone.

As the crowd thinned, with people moving about to start various activities, the mayor shivered. The dark glare burning into his back forced him to face the shadow that awaited in his office.

With the speed of a child knowing of an incoming scolding, he nervously shuffled into the dim room. His eyes were downcast as he looked at the feet of the sleep-deprived man, slouched on his navy couch.

“The festival’s begun.” The mayor licked his lips. “Is there anything else that you need to observe?”

The man spoke a simple “No.” as he slowly raised himself from the couch. His steps were heavy as he dragged himself to the blind-covered window. His cold hand pulled on the flimsy panel as his eyes slowly moved through the crowd.

The mayor’s continued cowering and questioning went ignored when familiar (H/C) locks flittered through the masses.

Locked on the locks his eyes followed them like a road map to gaze upon her face.

She looked so familiar, with the same faint scars and quirky grin. Yet, he noticed something new, the light in her (E/C) eyes that was once dimmed to mere dying embers had returned to their blaze. Instead of the fearful shuffle, there was a pep in skip that reminded him of the first time they met. 

He couldn't deny the rising hope at the sight of his long-lost wife. It felt like seeing the sun for first the time in a year, and yet a dark cloud quickly covered it. Reminding him of what had occurred almost a year ago to the day.

His darling wife had deserted him. Destroyed their happy home by slipping him a fatal concoction of medications, before slithering off into the night. Disappearing from his life, leaving nothing to hint at current her existence, until now.

Today, he thought, would change that. Today, she would be coming home whether she wanted to or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Italy: The Mafia Don never lost sight (Y/N)’s form, even as she began to blend back into the crowd.

The moment his eyes could no longer track her form, his hand dug into his pocket. The force that he used to pull a phone from its cloth confinements popped the seams of the pocket as he activated the device.

Two simple beeps before he held the silver phone to his ear. He waited with an intense focus on the crowds, searching for his wife again before a deep voice rumbled.

“Si, Don Vargas?”

There was no hesitation from the still-scanning leader as he gave his order. “My-a wife’s here at the-a summer festival. Find her.”

A simple ‘si’ came from the underling as he hung up the phone. A near-silent whimper made the magenta-eyed Italian turn to the trembling mayor.

He smirked as he pulled a knife from his brown suit and lifted the blade toward the coward. “If you-a value your-a short existence, you’ll say a-nothing.”

The mayor’s sweat-covered face bowed in a submissive nod before Luciano Vargas walked out. Leaving the mayor in the darkness and summer heat.

While Luciano’s men searched from the back alleys and dark corners, he walked more forward among the civilians. His pace was quick as he ducked and weaved.

Hours ticked by in the hot sun, and his stride never faltered even as his phone rang. The words that greeted him upon its answer, did make him stop. In fact, it made him smile like a crocodile that cornered squirming prey.

“Boss, we’ve got her.”

Luciano’s men hadn’t failed him. After last time, with the vivid memories of Medieval levels of torture and Pollock type of red mess, they refused to.

The confirmation of his darling wife’s capture, Luciano slipped away through the happy crowds. Allowing the alleys and shadows to guide him back to his car.

The drive was short as he sped over all limits and it screeched to a halt at the manor's stairs. 

Sauntering his way up through the oak doors and the large halls of the mansion, his men above breathed a small sigh of relief at their master's joy.

It was only a few turns along the marble corridor before he stepped down the stairs toward the dark, medieval basement. 

The Roman torches from long-forgotten eras cast long shadows along the iron cells. Each prisoner within attempted to hide when the Don walked by.

He paid no mind to the heavy chains shaking as walked to the heavy, iron door at the hall's end. It screeched open as he pushed against it.

The opening revealed a small, dark cell; furnished with only wall-mounted chains, a large pile of pillows, and a woman sitting upon it cuffed at the neck.

Luciano smiled wide as he reached up and pulled on the cord for the single lightbulb. He watched with joy as she flinched away upon its suddenness. Then trembling as she realized who stood in front of her. 

He stepped closer. A large smile on his face as grabbed the struggling woman's face. Dragging her toward him and tilted her head to the left as he whispered.

"Welcome back, mia Moglie." Luciano licked the shell of her ear before pulling back to look her in the eye. "I've missed you. Did you miss-a me?"

(Y/N) didn't answer, quietly shivering in his hold. Tears bubbled as Luciano's grin became feral.

"Because I'm all you have left."

Romano: (Y/N)’s body trudged forward with the unseen weight of exhaustion that comes from a day of excitement. Her lone footsteps were the only sound on the lamp-lit street that was still littered from the confetti released that morning.

She sighed heavily, but happily as she turned the final corner that would lead to the last leg of her journey.

Usually rounding the turn filled her steps with enough pep to skip her way home like a fairy tale bunny, this time however, she shuffled like a nervous horse stopped by an ashen rattler.

That serpent was no living thing, but a white limo with the nearest door opened like a snake’s jaw. Its light seeped out like venom from a bite, cascading along the sidewalk and highlighting her shoes.

Despite the shine, she could only see the shadows of a man within. His nice, white suit contradicted the black interior of the vehicle as his leg bounced. Whether it was excitement or nervousness she didn’t want to know.

Gulping, (Y/N) moved off the sidewalk to give the long automobile a wide berth.

As her path aligned with the open door, a sudden push came from her right. Shoved her into the door before being pulled into the limo that was now slammed shut.

The wheels screamed as the force caused her to crash into the man’s legs. Clutching onto them for some form of stability as the limo swerved.

Gentle fingers ran through her hair in a futile attempt to calm her down, but it only made her heart pound harder as (Y/N) finally looked at the mysterious stranger.

Her throat tightened as tears blurred her vision of the smiling Fabrizio. It wasn’t the loving smile he gave when he thought she had been broken. No, this one contained the traces of madness, obsession, and relief.

Like a spooked cat, she prepared to jump away, ready to duck and roll on the fast-passing terrain, but the hand tightened on her hair pulling her back to his feet.

“Now, now Bambola.” She flinched when he placed his silver stiletto against her neck. “You wouldn’t want-a make it worse when we get home, right?”

Germany: Like an old hound after a young vixen, Luther walked out of the office. Ignoring the mayor’s whimpering calls.

 His steps were quiet, yet quick as he slunk his way out of the City’s Hall. Into the streets, blending in with the crowds while his eyes searched for flickers of her clothing.

For moments, Luther felt that he was being led in circles. That his mind had played the cruelest of jokes as various flickers took him to multitudes of dead ends.

As the summer sun descended from its peak, the crowds thinned.

The lessened numbers brought out quiet conversations. One that made the German freeze.

The main voice was familiar, sounding like a lullaby that one’s mother no longer sang.

He followed like a bloodhound after a criminal. Its trail brought him to a small café with black wire seats under a cream-colored awning.

In the darkest corner were two women. The one to the right quickly faded into the shadows. The left one, his missing piece, was at first glance, like the warm blaze that welcomed heroes home from their quest.

Part of Luther wanted to embrace the blaze. Take in all the burns that would allow him to reunite with his heart. The other wanted to smother her. Place (Y/N) back into her hearth to prevent another wildfire like the one that gave her the chance to escape. To harness her passion to warm him alone.

Slinking toward the café, Luther went unnoticed in the dark as he entered the alley to the building’s right.

He watched with aid from a streetlamp as the women parted, hugging before they waved going their separate ways.

Luckily, Luther’s alley ran along (Y/N)’s route, allowing him to follow her like a shadow at sunset.  

Eventually, the sparsely filled streets became empty. 

Luther moved further ahead. Waiting at the next opening, back pressed against the near brick wall.

He held his breath as her footsteps approached.

At the same moment, his lamp-lit angel began her cross, his hands shot out. Grabbing (Y/N) and drugged her to his chest. His gun clicked as he lifted it from his waistband, muzzle pushed onto her temple.

Tears began to pour as she trembled in his hold. Small pleas for freedom and attempts at deals to prevent a return to their home fumbled from her mouth.

Luther heeded none of it.

Instead, he led her away. Far from the summer sun. Forcing her back into the damaged, cold hearth he called home.

Japan: As (Y/N) swam among the flood of sweat-covered people, a cold shiver vibrated her spine. The type that whispered the warning of danger to our ancestors on open grasslands. That gave way to the primal urge to hide from bloodthirsty beasts.

Yet, as her head snapped left, then right. Nothing stuck out. No one staring from amongst the crowds, no aggressive shoving, or screams of terror.

Swallowing her fear, (Y/N) shrugged off the feeling before jogging to the meeting point of all her friends. Trusting that the demon, who had claimed her as a wife, was nowhere near.

Not once did the feeling return as (Y/N) went about the festivities with friends. As the hours passed, she had long forgotten it ever occurred.

Even as she separated from the herd to return home, she felt relaxed. Safe, even as she moved through the empty, evening streets, but as she climbed the stairwell through her dark, apartment building that same shiver crept up her spine like a million, skittering centipedes.

Despite her glances showing nothing abnormal, the dark corners and shadows of the grey stairwell offered no relief with their shifting shadows. Instead, they seemed to reach out with long claws that caused her heart to race.

A door from the floor below slamming sent her running.

Up the stairs, she flew. Her arm acted as a balance as she swung the corner entrance to her floor. Panting, she leaned against her door as she struggled against her keys. Pushing them against the metal lock until the right one clicked in before a harsh turn allowed her to fall into her home. A simple kick, shut her own door as she scrambled away from it.

(Y/N)’s terrified clamber had become frozen mid-movement. She had hit something that did not exist within her dark entryway. It was warm and tall. Covered in loose-fitting cloth that felt of rough cotton. Her left hand moved backward and slowly slid across the smooth leather of military boots.

“Hime” At that simple pet name the tremors returned in full force. Tears collected on her lashes as she felt a gloved hand rake its way through her hair. With a little force, the hand angled her head upward.

Above her was the man she feared most. Kurai Honda.

 As she opened her mouth to scream, he covered it with a tight hand.

(Y/N) struggled against him. Flailing her arms and kicking at his arms. Kurai acted as though he felt nothing. Maneuvering (Y/N) like a doll into a choke hold and suffocating her.

As the dark spots crossed her vision, she heard him whisper.

“When you awake, our honor will be restored.”

Spain: Armando’s typically stoic face twitched for a moment before stretching into a mischievous grin.

A smile so sinister that the mayor’s teeth chattered as he backed away from the Spaniard. His spine shook as he cursed the hip bump that knocked the glass cup off the desk, it shattered upon impact with the wooden floor.

Like a predator mid-hunt, Armando’s head snapped toward the noise. His smile never waned as he stared.

“My apologize, Señor Mayor. But we will have to finish this discussion another day.”

The monster of a man turned on his heel, losing his smile as the mayor trembled with a prayer on his lips for the new target.

 The Spaniard’s loose-fitting shirt fluttered as he walked quickly through the administrative building, it whooshed backward as he stepped into the humid, summer air.

His eyes scanned the crowds once more from the marble steps. Another flick of (H/C) locks disappeared between the people at the market row.

Instead of forcing his way through the crowded streets, Armando sped his way along the edges. Cutting through the alleys like they were foxholes.

Immediately, he caught up. Watching his wife, like a lion prowling through tall grass.

She had changed so much, growing out her hair and wearing (F/C) jewelry. Yet, he noted upon closer examination her voice hadn't changed. It still sounded like his favorite lullaby.

Armando’s smile returned as she wandered closer. Leaving the sweet stand with a simple baggie in hand.

He stepped out, jogged to her side, and grabbed her hand in a constricting grip.

Before (Y/N) could scream, he hugged her tightly. Pressing her squirming form into his chest, before leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Continue the fight and everyone will think you’re mad.”

For a moment, (Y/N) stilled. Armando could see her eyes were wide as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

But that moment of peace didn’t last as her struggle returned. (Y/N) pushed and clawed at the Spainard like a fractious cat, yowling for help. Begging for someone to get her away from the madman.

He tchhed as the crowd formed a circle, tightening his grip on his woman before lifting her over his shoulder. Seemingly unaffected by her screams, Armando yelled over her, requesting the enforcers of the law appear as well.

Shocked, (Y/N) stopped mid-wail. Scrambling to figure out why he would demand to speak with the ones that would save her. Never once believed his warning.

It only took a minute for two black-clad uniformed policemen to shove their way to the front. Their gruff faces were marred by the annoyance of an easy shift gone wrong.

“What’s going on.” Questioned the taller of the partners. His eyes were sharp as they bounced between Armando and (Y/N).

“He’s trying to kidnap me!” (Y/N) shouted and attempted to fight. “Get me away from this freak!”

At her statement, the duo’s hands dropped to their holsters. Fingers grazed the leather-like excited hunting dogs on a thin tether. One wrong move and all hell would break loose.

The shorter of the duo lifted an open scarred, palm toward Armando. “Señor. Put her down.”

He complied but didn’t let go. Instead holding tightly to her hips with one arm as she squirmed. The other reached into his shirt to remove a letter, somehow maintaining its blinding whiteness while being pressed against his olive skin.

(Y/N) stared at the letter, while he made a silent gesture to the cops.

They approached and the taller took it from his hand. Opening it with a quick rip before scanning its contents.

The crowd remained silent as the shorter was then handed the letter. He read it much quicker, biting his lip before nodding to the first with pity in his eyes.

“Do you need any help getting her home Señor?”

(Y/N)’s jaw dropped as she looked between the three men. “What are you TWO DOING!? HELP ME!”

The taller policeman turned to her with sad eyes as he sighed. “Señora,” He nodded toward Armando. “Your husband just wants to take you home.”

“He’s not my husband!” (Y/N) insisted as she leaned down to rake the inside of Armando’s thigh with sharp nails, causing him to hiss and release her.

“Señora, you are ill. Let us help you.”

“Ma’am calm down.”

(Y/N) backed up panting as everyone approached. Citizens throwing in their voices, begging her to stop. Men stepped into the circle to help corral her.

As her head moved on a swivel, she noticed his dark grin. The smile never faded as the strangers held her down like wolves to prey. Presenting her toward their Alpha. Feeding her flesh to the beast she had tried to escape.

Never to be seen nor believed by anyone again.

Austria: His joy could not be contained as loud, frenzied laughter left him like a busted damn. Its power caused the monstrous nation to lean against the window as tears beaded and dripped down his ivory face.

As his guffaw slowed to silence, the room chilled chasing away any lingering summer heat. The darkest shadows shifted as they stretched themselves toward their master. Whipping like thin tentacles like cat tails as they curled around Jonathan. 

Their curling slowly turned into climbing as they pulled him downward like warped quicksand.

There was no fear from the Austrian as he looked to the terrified mayor. His serrated smile was wide as he called the government official before disappearing into the ink.

“Keep jour end of the deal, and jour family vill be zpared.”

The shadows fell away, revealing an upside-down office to Jonathan. A thump drew his attention to his feet, where he watched the mayor tremble before collapsing.

“Mortalz.” He chuckled before pulling out his umbrella from his jacket and bolting out of the office.

The change in orientation didn’t seem to affect him as the empty halls and streets aided him in his hunt.

As Jonathan approached the last location of his beloved queen, his carmine eyes returned to the ground. Quickly his vision bounced from person to person under him, scanning for the familiar (H/C) and (E/C).

 The dense crowd on the other side of the dimensional plane created a dizzying rainbow of features and colors that just weren’t right. It felt like hours for Jonathan as he worked through them, street by street and stall by stall.

The melodious sound of a guitar that was accompanied by the tender vocals froze him. He took in the words; broken love, unfair capture, and a promise to never allow love, created seismic shivers that rivaled earthquakes down his spine.

Only one bat could sing such a divine tale.

(Y/N).

Toward the town center, he sprinted. Kicking up dirt as he slides to a stop at a stage at the town center.

Mere feet from him stood his Angel of Music. Singing the songs, he had once thought he would never hear again. A healthy glow had returned to her sunken skin and a brightness in her movements that had existed at their first meeting.

Jonathan licked his lips as his mind concocted the perfect reunion. He prowled toward the stage and climbed down to the lights at the top.

He lined himself up so perfectly that a single jump would flatten her.

Jonathan crouched, hanging his umbrella off a single light, wiggling like a stalking cat. Allowing his muscles to tense like a coiled clock spring.

He jumped. Launching himself upward. The shadows opened, allowing him out.

He tackled (Y/N) mid-song. A gasp choked in her throat as they both tumbled back into the shadows.

(Y/N)’s fight did nothing as he kept her trapped in his arms. The sounds of hysteria from the world above were muted as he nuzzled into her back. Enjoying the warmth of her flesh.

The sickly groaning was ignored as Jonathan muttered a welcome home. Promising that this time they would be together until their final song was sung.

Prussia: Wilhem’s movements were stiff as the blinds snapped back to their original tension. His pale hand slowly dropped to his side as he turned toward the mayor.

The icy stoicism caused the low government official to shuffle in place like a nervous gelding. Rubbing his arm, the mayor spoke to the cold knight.

“Iz there anyzing elze jour bruder needs, Herr. Beilschmidt?”

“Nein, jou preformed az expected.”

With a simple nod in farewell, Wilhelm turned to leave the office.

The mayor, on the other hand, prayed that they wouldn’t meet again until next year.

For many the festival ended too quickly as the sun set and the streetlamps lit up like fireflies in a field. Vendors closed their stalls with a mix of clicks and tings as merchandise was packed away and doors were locked.

Soon enough, only a small group of young adults were left on the streets. Their laughter echoed like drunk parrots as they pushed against each other in youthful fun.

The loudest of them was (Y/N), her smile wide as she ducked and weaved between the members like in an impromptu game of tag. Jogging in place she watched them fumble in their reaches.

The gaggle unleashed a riotous roaring as (Y/N)’s jogging became teasing gestures. Peals of laughter bloomed as she danced along the street edge, allowing the crowd to convince her to create grander displays.

Panting with excitement, she failed to disappoint as the center of the empty road became her stage. Jokes and burns were shot off in rapid fire while she moved in swift excitement.

Just before the euphoria could reach its peak, a loud whinny silenced it.

Everyone looked to the source. Shocked gasps were heard at the sight of a large, grey and white horse. Upon its back was a man dressed in dark armor, his face hidden behind an enclosed helmet.

The mysterious being forced the horse to rear back. Its dark hooves waved in the air, the shoes catching the light like lightning before crashing down like thunder. Sparks flew as it galloped down the road.

(Y/N)’s friends called for her to move. Screamed for her to run to either sidewalk.

She couldn’t. Something about the knight had frozen her stiff.

As the thunderous hooves encroached her mind wondered why. Was it the feeling of familiarity with the entity? The way his hidden gaze seemed to command her to remain put like the monster she had killed or was it because apart of her believed that this knight was his ghost? Coming to drag her to his grave. To forcefully bury her beside the man she detested most of all. Combining their souls as one for all eternity.

The horse was five feet away when ancient instinct overrode the fear. She attempted to dive at her friends. Arms stretched out toward them. But she never connected. Never felt the touch of those who helped lift her out of the darkness.

Rough hands tugged her away. Throwing her across his lap as his steed sped off. (Y/N)’s screams disappearing into the darkness.

For hours (Y/N)’s friends and the authorities searched the city. Neither the hide nor hair of the beasts or the woman was found.

Some of the cops whispered about the Ghost of Order. Blaming his centuries of loneliness on why the woman was taken. Others were quick to silence that speak around (Y/N)’s worried friends.

It was a shame that no one knew how right they all had been. Except for (Y/N). For the ghost had been the man she once killed and had pushed her back into their shared crypt. Only this time, should one of them die then they both shall perish.  

[shini--chan]

This was inspired by your Jessica Jones/Private Detective ask and me being like “That is true Like Father, Like Son energy right there.” at 2p!Austria and Italy being put in same category. How would Austria and Italy (Both 1p and 2p) react to the person they both have a crush on saying “You have such a cute father and son relationship.”

Well, in total, they would both be offended by this alligation. Austria would take it more on the light and playful shoulder and try to use it to make Italy "join the Fatherland" once again. Nevertheless, he still finds Italy to be a hellion so best don't imply a familial relationship there.

Italy would throw a knife at whoever said that and go away to sulk hide from Austria

[glittery-ishfish]

Official 2Ptalia Stuff

Trivia: Japan is technically the first 2P. That drawing of 2P!Japan with the pink backdrop is the earliest 2P art I found while searching Hima's blog, the file was called "Kuro_Nihosan".

[ohsodazzlingamerican]

HetaArt Dump Part 1 (pre-summer of 2020) I also have an insta with everything! @uscan_is_my_lifeforce

[welcome-to-the-idk]

Update for the blog:

Japan has a life but is still helping to run this blog

For the most part though it's just me [Austria]

The others are open for questions as well

(Including micronations and ancients)

Be kind or be gone

Alles Liebe, Österreich

[j0jorocity]

LUCIANO VARGAS (2P North Italy)

Age: 24 Height: 5’6 Weight: 142 lbs Personality/History: Luciano isn’t as crazy as most believe. Sure, he makes fun of people on a daily basis and finds torturing others for his amusement fun, but hey, at least he’s not on the levels of crazy as his father and brother are. He really is just a massive dickhead.

Luciano wasn’t raised by 2P Austria—instead by his father, 2P Rome (Remus). Remus by the time of Luciano’s birth was never fully sane in the head. He started to become angrier at the world, more bitter and cruel, but he hadn’t snapped yet. Yet.

Luciano was always the favourite over his brother 2P Romano (Nero). Luciano was strong. Tough. He wasn’t afraid of getting blood on his hands. Remus wanted to shape both of his sons into his mini me’s, but since with Nero it failed, he grew ever so distant to him and tried to raise his golden child into a fighter. It mostly worked. After a few years and a shit ton of problems, Nero ended up becoming Emperor after Remus had died, surprisingly, and became the exact tyrant he was, only more careless and maybe just a bit more deranged. Luciano ended up staging a coup against him—not for the good of the people, but because Nero’s stupidity inconvenienced his life. He assumed power, but after just a few years and a bit of a shitty reign, he stepped down and Remus’s brother Rome (Romulus) had to take over.. again.

In modern times, Luciano prefers to stick to himself, he doesn’t like talking about his past. Too messy. He keeps quiet unless he’s wreaking havoc on Luther or his brother or something, the latter resenting him while Luciano could really care less about him. He does enjoy spending time with Kuro, though, and will torment others with him.

(Luciano! Tbh I’ve started to think about him more, I don’t have many headcanons for him in the modern day but definitely during ancient times- I’ve been having trouble with when the Italy brothers were born so um yeah, I’ll work that out later.)

(I base him a bit off of Tiberius actually. Not in his actions, but in personality—dark, brooding, sadistic, but Luciano is calmer than Tiberius thank goodness.)

(Also, yes, I do see 2P Rome and Rome as siblings ;3)