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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 8 months

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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.”

#2p hetalia #2p headcanons #yandere #yandere hetalia #2p yandere #2p axis #2p italy #2p romano #2p germany #2p prussia #2p japan #2p austria #2p spain

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