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capricorn-writes1 · 17 days ago

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Akashi Seijuro, Nebuya Eikichi and Hayama Kotarou Getting Jealous Headcanons

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A/N: Hello there, Anon. I might answer your question a little bit late because I am going to go camping with my friends. Also, I have actually started learning to write novels together with one of the popular novelists. So I hope you guys pray for me that I am able to make and publish my book.

Gender: Neutral Warning: Profanity, Nebuya gets a bit handsy and Creepy Guys

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Akashi Seijuro: Point Guard/Captain - Rakuzan High School

Akashi doesn’t visibly react when someone flirts with you at first. He smiles with all the chill of a blizzard. But his eyes? They silently promise a psychological takedown. The poor flirt doesn't realize they’ve just made it onto a meticulously curated list.

He’ll gently place a hand on your lower back and interject with, “Ah, I’m sorry, but I believe they’re already spoken for.” He’s still smiling, but his tone is knife-sharp polite. The air chills like a silent alarm went off. You feel both flattered and lowkey afraid.

Akashi doesn't fight dirty; he fights flawlessly. If the flirt is a fellow student or athlete, Akashi will casually obliterate them during a match or exam. It’s always subtle enough to not seem jealous, but the message is clear: You lose. Always.

The moment someone’s attention lingers too long, Akashi casually slips his hand into yours. He doesn’t say a word about it, but his thumb softly strokes your knuckles like a silent reminder. You’re his anchor, and he won't be letting go.

He’ll approach with all the charm of a prince but the authority of an emperor. “Excuse me,” he’ll say, voice cool as winter silk, “may I borrow my significant other for a moment?” His tone leaves no room for refusal, only a gulp and a retreat.

If you're at a dinner or formal event, and someone starts chatting you up, Akashi’s hand will slide under the table to rest on your thigh. It’s gentle but firm. One small squeeze and you know: “I see everything. You’re mine.”

If the stranger boasts or brags, Akashi will deliver a surgical comment like, “Confidence is admirable, though some prefer quiet strength.” He’ll then glance at you with a soft smile, highlighting the contrast. The flirt never stood a chance.

If the stranger is particularly clever or manipulative, Akashi doesn’t get angry; he gets clinical. He studies them like a chess opponent, slowly cornering them in conversation until they make a social blunder. Checkmate. You didn’t even see him move.

He’ll suddenly become extra attentive, fixing your collar, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, and murmuring compliments only you can hear. It’s possessive in the most refined way. The creepy guy just fades into irrelevance, secondhand embarrassed.

Later, when you’re alone, he’ll become noticeably clingier, leaning his head against your shoulder, his hand tracing slow circles on your back. “I didn’t like the way they looked at you,” he’ll admit softly. It’s rare vulnerability, and it’s precious.

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The evening had a quiet charm, golden light filtering through the windows of Rakuzan’s High School library-turned-event-hall, the scent of fresh tea and warm pastries lingering in the air. You were dressed just right for the student council's mixer, not too flashy, but polished enough to draw compliments. And one in particular someone from the debate team—seemed a little too eager to give you theirs. Their smile was wide, their laughter a touch too loud, and they leaned in every time you spoke.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Akashi hadn’t arrived yet, and you figured the conversation was harmless. But the way the other student complimented your voice, brushing a nonexistent thread off your sleeve, made you shift slightly in discomfort. Before you could take a polite step back, a familiar presence approached from behind, so subtle and controlled you barely heard his footsteps until he was beside you.

“Ah,” Akashi said smoothly, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. “I see you’ve already met my partner.” His tone was polite, his lips curved in a soft smile, but the undercurrent of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned toward him, and he met your eyes briefly; his were calm but tinged with something sharp and unreadable.

The creepy guy laughed awkwardly, backing off half a step. “Oh, I didn’t realize, sorry, I wasn’t—”

“No need to apologize,” Akashi interrupted gently, the softness of his voice hiding something far colder. “It’s easy to mistake charm for availability. But you see, they’re quite taken. Irreplaceably so.” His hand never left your back, but his fingers subtly tightened, just for a moment, just enough for you to notice.

After the awkward exit of your conversational partner, Akashi guided you toward a quieter corner of the room with deliberate grace. He didn’t speak at first, just stood close, watching you with that piercing gaze of his. Then, in a voice just loud enough for only you to hear, he asked, “Did you enjoy the attention?” You blinked, surprised. “What?”

He repeated the question, softer this time. There was no malice in it, no accusation, only a raw sort of vulnerability that cracked through his usual composure. You reached up and touched his wrist, the tension under your fingertips finally easing. “I didn’t even notice them,” you admitted honestly. “But I noticed the second you walked in.”

His eyes softened immediately. Something unspoken passed between you, something steadier than possessiveness, deeper than jealousy. He leaned forward, brushing a kiss against your temple, his voice low as he whispered, “Good. Because I only have so much patience before I start rearranging futures.”

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Nebuya Eikichi: Center - Rakuzan High School

The second someone tries flirting with you, Nebuya’s voice booms across the room. “HEY! BACK OFF, THAT'S MY BABE!” Everyone turns. You sigh. He’s not subtle and never subtle, but you can’t deny the flutter in your chest at how proud he sounds.

Nebuya suddenly finds a reason to flex, like lifting a chair with one hand, stretching his shirt sleeves just enough to make his biceps bulge. “Did I mention I bench press double my weight?” he says loudly. The flirter stares. You facepalm.

The moment someone’s hand lingers on your shoulder or waist, Nebuya’s there in a flash, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Whoa there, pal,” he grins, but there’s a warning in his voice. You don’t miss how tight his grip is.

He has no problem stepping directly between you and the weirdo. He doesn’t even pretend it’s smooth; he just blocks them with his entire body. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there. Too small,” he mutters with a smirk. You try not to laugh.

He’ll suddenly pull you into a kiss in front of everyone. No warning. Just mouth-on-mouth like you’re the last bottle of protein shake on earth. You pull away breathless and dazed while he smirks at the flirter like he just won the lottery.

When he’s jealous and trying not to explode, he works out harder than usual. “Gotta punch out this weird emotion or I’ll end up suplexing someone,” he mutters. You bring him water. He pulls you into a sweaty hug. “Thanks, babe. Still mine, yeah?”

He’ll hold his tongue while the creep's around, trying to “act cool” for your sake. But the second they walk away, he scoffs. “Pfft. That dude had no calves. No gains. You deserve peak performance, and I AM THAT PEAK.”

After someone flirts with you, he won’t let go for hours. Wraps his arm around your waist, holds your hand even in awkward situations, and rests his chin on your shoulder like a massive golden retriever. “Just making’ sure everyone knows,” he mumbles.

If the creeper gets too bold, Nebuya’s reaction is instinctual: he roars. A full-on “BACK OFF!” that echoes through the hallway. People turn. The stranger bolts. You groan and drag him away, hand over his mouth while he mutters, “What? I’m just protecting what’s mine!”

He buys you snacks, carries your bag, and opens every door like a gentleman. “Let’s go on a date right now. Best date ever. No losers allowed.” It’s over-the-top, dramatic, and so Nebuya you can’t help but smile. He beams.

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The gym was buzzing after the interschool tournament, a mess of victory cheers, towel slaps, and the unmistakable stench of sweat and glory. You stood by the vending machine, sipping a cold drink while waiting for Nebuya to finish up his cool-down laps. You weren’t dressed to impress, but your loose hoodie and shorts still somehow drew attention, especifically from one of the rival team’s players, who wandered over with a charming smile and zero shame.

“You were cheering pretty loud,” the guy said, giving you an easy grin. “You always that passionate, or just for your boyfriend?”

You laughed lightly, out of politeness more than anything. “I guess it depends on who’s playing.” The truth was, you’d been screaming your lungs out for one person only -Eikichi. But something about this guy made you pause, made your instincts twitch. He was standing too close. His eyes lingered too long. And Nebuya had terrible timing.

Or so you thought, until you turned and saw him barreling toward you from across the gym like a tank with a purpose. His eyes locked on the guy, jaw tight, shoulders squared. “Oi,” Nebuya said, loud enough that people turned. “You flirting with my partner?”

The other guy blinked, stunned. “What? No! J-just talking—”

“Yeah?” Nebuya cut in, stepping between you both with a snort. “You ‘talk’ to everybody like that or just the ones already taken?” You could feel the tension in his body, his arm curling around your waist like he was staking claim. It was warm, solid, and slightly ridiculous, but also oddly comforting. You tugged on his sleeve. “Eikichi, it’s fine. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” he muttered, still glaring. “But I’ve got you, and I don’t like people thinking they can cut in just ‘cause I’m over there doing squats.” His voice dropped to a grumble. “He wasn’t even that tall.”

Once the guy backed off, tail tucked between his legs, Nebuya finally exhaled. He looked down at you, cheeks flushed, not from the workout, but from that chaotic swirl of protectiveness and possessiveness. “You’re not mad, right? I j-just—couldn’t help it.”

You smiled and leaned up on your toes to kiss his jaw, brushing sweat-damp hair away from his forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re jealous.” His eyes lit up immediately. “Tch. Damn right I am. Still… I’ll do extra laps if it means people stop trying to flirt with you.” You just laughed, letting him pull you into a tight, sweaty, absolutely ridiculous hug, and loving every second of it.

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Hayama Kotarou: Small Foward - Rakuzan High School

The second he senses flirting, his mood shifts like lightning. One moment he’s grinning, the next he’s pouting and side-eyeing the offender like they just insulted his dribbling skills. “Uh, excuse me? Taken. Very taken,” he says, practically vibrating with offense.

He slings an arm around your shoulder, presses his cheek to yours, and starts grinning wide. “This one’s mine! Sooo taken. Forever.” He says it sweetly but stares at the weird guy with that tiger-toying-with-prey look in his eyes.

At first he acts chill like he was joking, teasing, even letting the weirdo slide for fun. But when the compliments keep coming, his eyes narrow, his laugh fades. “Hey,” he says with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes, “maybe try flirting with someone who has a chance.”

Hayama lets out a too-loud, fake laugh at something the flirter says, then looks you dead in the eye. “Babe, isn’t that the joke I made yesterday? Guess we’ve got fans now.” His tone is airy, but his foot’s tapping rapidly.

Hayama starts doing the absolute most to show you off and outshine the flirter. He’ll start spinning a basketball on one finger, cracking jokes, quoting inside memes only you two understand. “Remember that time I made five three-pointers in a row and you said you’d marry me if I did it again?” he says loudly. You groan.

If someone flirts with you, Hayama turns into a walking koala. Suddenly, he’s touching you constantly, holding your hand, tugging your sleeve, leaning into you while talking like you’re a pillow he can’t live without.

To prove a point, he’ll just grab your face and kiss you right there. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of a gym, mall, or the school hallway. He would grin afterwards, eyes flicking to the stranger. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he loves it.

His fingers start buzzing, literally. When he’s really jealous, the slight crackle of his electricity quirk shows up by accident. It tingles against your skin when he brushes your hand. “Oops, my bad,” he says sheepishly, “guess I got a little… charged up.” You laugh. The creepy guy definitely does not.

You find out later that he told everybody. “Coach! Someone tried to flirt with (Y/N) today!” he whines, like a kindergartner tattling. “I had to defend their honor!” You sigh. You know for a fact Mibuchi and Akashi are never going to let this go.

Hayama may get jealous easily, but at the heart of it, he just really, really loves you. “I know I act crazy, but… it’s only ‘cause you matter to me more than anything,” he admits once you’re alone. You brush his hair back and smile. “I know, silly. That’s why I picked you.” And that’s all it takes to make him melt.

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It started at the café near Rakuzan, the kind with too many hanging plants and a chalkboard menu that changed every week. You were waiting for Hayama, nursing your lemonade, when a guy from another school approached your table. He was tall, good-looking, and clearly knew it, leaning on the back of the chair like he belonged in a shoujo manga. “Hey,” he said with a casual smile, “are you waiting for someone, or can I keep you company?” You blinked, caught off guard. “Um, I’m actually—”

Before you could finish, an unmistakable voice sliced through the chatter of the café. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hayama said, suddenly appearing behind the guy like some jealous thunder spirit. His smile was bright, but his tone was all static. “Funny running into my very taken partner being hit on like it’s speed dating night.”

The guy turned, confused. “Who are you?” he asked, eyebrow raised. Hayama blinked, then grinned wider, dangerously wide. “Me? I’m their boyfriend. Which means I get the seat, the drink-sharing rights, and all their cute smiles, thanks.” He plopped into the chair beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder like a claim, eyes never leaving the other guy.

You sighed, both fond and a little embarrassed. “Koutarou…” But he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek that made your whole face burn. “What? I just really needed to kiss the love of my life. You know how it is.” The guy backed away with a muttered apology and disappeared toward the counter.

Once he was gone, Hayama finally relaxed, pulling his drink toward him like nothing had happened. “Some people have no shame,” he huffed, stealing a fry off your plate. “Like, who flirts with someone this beautiful and doesn’t even ask if they’re single? That’s flirting etiquette 101.” You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Jealous much?”

He puffed up dramatically. “Jealous? Me? Nooo. I’m just very passionate about my deeply committed and extremely attractive partner.” He flashed you a grin, equal parts cheeky and sincere, then leaned closer and whispered, “But if anyone else tries something like that again, I’m going full-on lightning dunk mode.”

You chuckled, brushing a crumb off his cheek. “That’s… not a real mode.” He winked. “It is now.” And just like that, he was back to being your chaotic, affectionate, absolutely ridiculous boyfriend.

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capricorn-writes1 · 18 days ago

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Hey love, I see your HCS of Aomine with s/o that is horrible in sport and I love it ❤️❤️❤️ but Can I request Himuro, Murasakibara, and Alex with S/O that are also horrible in sport???

❤️Murasakibara Atsushi, Himuro Tatsuya and Alexandra Garcia Having S/O Who Are Terrible At Sports❤️

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Hello there, Anon. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality, and I would like to apologize for replying to the ask late because I had horrible carpal tunnel syndrome in my right hand and depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as therapy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and was able to get a quick 6 months of internship before leaving to find a new job.

Gender: Neutral Warning: None

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Murasakibara Atsushi: Center/Ace - Yosen High School

Watching you trip over your own shoelaces during a casual game of catch is peak comedy to him. He’ll be chuckling with a mouthful of chips, mumbling, “You’re sooo bad at this, (Y/N)~” But he’ll still lazily roll the ball back to you so you can try again.

If someone else laughs at your lack of coordination, he instantly gets defensive. With narrowed eyes and an arm around your shoulder, he’ll say, “Only I can say (Y/N)’s bad at sports.” He’ll probably challenge them to a one-on-one and win just to make a point.

At first, he lifts you by the waist so you can dunk, thinking it’s cute. Then he sees you try to dribble and the ball hits your face. With a sigh, he hands you snacks instead: “Let’s just eat, okay?”

You’re wheezing after a 100-meter sprint while he’s just strolling along with Pocky in his mouth. “You’re sooo slow, Y/N~,” he teases, but he hands you his water bottle. Secretly, he loves watching you try your best, even if you suck.

While his world revolves around towering over opponents and breaking rims, you’re in the corner struggling with jump rope and somehow getting tangled. He watches you with a weirdly soft expression and thinks, I want to protect this clumsy creature forever.

You accidentally hit him with a dodgeball once. It barely grazed his arm, but he dramatically flopped over like he’d been shot. You screamed in horror, but he popped up, laughing like a kid. “You really think that could take me out?” He grinned, ruffling your hair.

He blocks the sun for you during outdoor games, literally just standing beside you like a human shade tree while you squint at the sky. “You’re going to get heatstroke or something,” he says while chewing a chocolate bar. Then he shares it with you and complains when you bite too much.

He calls you his “clumsy little shrimp.” You groan every time, but he says it with so much affection it’s hard to argue. You may not run fast or throw well, but you cheer for him louder than anyone. And that, to Murasakibara, is way more important than being good at sports.

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You had never been good at sports. Not just “meh” or “okay on a good day”, you were impressively, artistically terrible. Balls flew in the opposite direction of your aim, running left you wheezing after ten seconds, and you had once managed to trip over a stationary hula hoop. The only reason you agreed to come to the school’s casual basketball day was because he would be there. Murasakibara Atsushi, the walking snack tower you somehow called your boyfriend.

He was already on the court when you arrived, lazily towering over his teammates and dunking without even jumping. You waved at him with both arms like an overexcited flag semaphore. He noticed you right away, slow-blinking like a sleepy cat, and then wandered over. “You wore the jersey,” he said, eyes flicking over the way his oversized shirt hung on you like a dress. “Cute.” You tried to strike a sporty pose but nearly lost your balance. He caught you by the elbow, grinning like it made his whole afternoon.

When you joined the casual game, it was a pure disaster. The first time someone passed you the ball, it bounced off your head and rolled away. Your attempt at dribbling resembled a child slapping a balloon. Murasakibara didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “You’re sooo bad at this, (Y/N),” he said through a mouthful of gummy worms. “Like, impressively bad.” You shot him a half-hearted glare, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Still, he didn’t leave your side. When the others ran ahead, he strolled beside you, acting like you were the star player. When someone snickered after you tripped over your own feet, he shot them a look cold enough to turn summer into snow. “Only I get to call (Y/N) clumsy,” he said, stuffing another piece of mochi into your mouth before you could respond.

You tried to redeem yourself by showing off a cartwheel you’d been practicing in secret, but it ended in you tumbling sideways and landing in the grass with a surprised squeak. There was a pause, then Murasakibara broke into loud, wheezing laughter, doubling over with his hands on his knees. “You’re seriously the worst at this,” he said between laughs, “and it’s the best thing ever.” You pouted, grass stuck in your hair, but couldn’t help smiling too.

After the game, the two of you sat under a tree, legs stretched out, sharing a bag of salty chips while the sun dipped lower in the sky. “I think I’ll just be your personal cheer squad from now on,” you declared, waving an imaginary pom-pom. He hummed in approval. “That’s good. You look better on the sidelines in my jersey anyway.” You leaned your head against his arm, feeling the warmth of the day slowly cooling down.

He handed you the last chip without hesitation, which was as close to a love confession as Murasakibara got. “You don’t have to be good at sports,” he muttered, flicking your forehead gently. “You’re already my favorite.” You stuck your tongue out at him in reply, pretending not to melt like chocolate under the sun.

And maybe you were still bad at sports, but with him beside you-teasing, protective, warm like a giant pillow, you didn’t mind at all.

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Himuro Tatsuya: Shooting Guard - Yosen High School

He finds your lack of athletic skill kind of adorable. You nearly fall while trying to kick a soccer ball, and he rushes to catch you before you faceplant. With a warm smile and soft laugh, he says, “Maybe stick to cheering, sweetheart.” But you catch him bragging about your enthusiasm to his teammates later.

He’ll gently guide you through the basics, step by step. Himuro’s patience is endless, especially with you; he’ll adjust your posture, your grip, and your stance. His hands are always warm as they rest on yours. And he always says “Perfect,” even when you mess up.

You once tried to join him for morning jogging. Once. After five minutes, you were hunched over a bench wheezing like a lawnmower. Himuro offered you water, wiped your forehead, and said, “You made it farther than yesterday.” You blinked. “I didn’t jog yesterday.” He smiled. “Exactly.”

He always asks if you want to come to practice, even if you just sit and read. He likes knowing you’re nearby, even if you're curled up with a book while drills happen around you.You occasionally peek up and clap when he scores a shot. His cheeks flush every time, no matter how cool he acts.

He once tried to teach you basketball… and deeply regretted it. You managed to hit yourself in the chin with the ball on the first dribble. He was horrified, gently inspecting your jaw with the care of a surgeon. “We’re doing yoga next time,” he declared.

He makes fun of you, but with elegance. “Oh, darling, you were born with many talents… just not athletic ones.” You shove him lightly, and he kisses the back of your hand with a teasing grin. Still, he’ll always volunteer to be your three-legged race partner, no matter the risk.

You’re terrible at catching things, and he’s made it into a game. He gently tosses small items like candy, pens, or rolled socks at you randomly throughout the day. You catch about 10% of them. Each time you miss, he dramatically clutches his chest and says, “And I still love you.”

He becomes your accidental bodyguard during team sports. If a dodgeball comes flying your way, he intercepts it like a reflex. “Sorry, muscle memory,” he says coolly, spinning the ball on his finger. You stick to hiding behind him after that, and he lets you.

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You had no business being on a basketball court. That fact became glaringly obvious the moment you attempted your first dribble and sent the ball ricocheting off your shoe, bouncing with traitorous energy toward the nearest wall. Himuro, mid-conversation with a teammate, turned just in time to watch the chaos unfold. His lips twitched with amusement as he calmly strolled over, picking up the ball like it hadn’t just tried to assassinate a water bottle on the bench.

“I see you’ve developed your own playing style,” he said, smile soft but teasing. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “My playing style is called complete athletic failure,” you muttered through your fingers. Himuro chuckled, gently pulling your hands away so he could look you in the eye. “If this is failure, it’s the most graceful one I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, and you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or flirting. Maybe both.

He offered to teach you the basics, just for fun, he promised and guided you through simple moves, his voice calm and steady. But somehow, even with his patient coaching and the occasional hand on your waist or your shoulder to adjust your form, you remained spectacularly uncoordinated. You tripped on your own shoelaces twice and once flailed so dramatically trying to shoot the ball that he instinctively reached out to catch you. “Basketball might not be your sport,” he said gently, helping you up. “But falling? You’ve really mastered that.”

After ten minutes, you sat down on the gym floor, winded and mildly traumatized by a basketball to the shin. Himuro knelt beside you, not the least bit tired, still looking as smooth and composed as ever. He handed you a water bottle and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “most people would’ve quit by now. I like that you’re stubborn.” You raised a brow. “Is that a compliment?” He smiled. “Absolutely.”

Field day at school wasn’t any better. You were the last one across the finish line in the sack race, having fallen over twice and accidentally hopped into a bush. Himuro was waiting for you with a towel, water, and zero judgment. “You were amazing,” he said as if you’d won Olympic gold. You eyed him suspiciously. “I came in dead last.” He shrugged. “Still my favorite competitor.” He even kissed your forehead, and for a second, you forgot you had grass stains on your knees.

Later that evening, you found yourself sprawled on a picnic blanket while Himuro read beside you, your head in his lap. “I don’t get why you keep inviting me to sporty things,” you said, squinting up at him. “You know I suck.” He looked down at you, his expression warm and unreadable all at once. “Because you make it fun. You laugh when you fall. You cheer like I just hit the game-winner even when I miss. You make all of this feel lighter.”

You reached up and flicked his chin gently. “You’re really good at making clumsiness sound poetic.” He caught your wrist and kissed your fingers in return. “That’s because I love all the parts of you, including the ones that can’t throw a ball to save their life.” You blinked, caught off guard by how easily he said it, as if the words were already true before he spoke them aloud.

In the end, maybe you’d never be good at sports, but Himuro made it feel like you didn’t need to be. With him beside you, even your worst gym-class disasters turned into soft, golden memories. And that, in its own strange way, felt like winning.

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Alexandra Garcia : Trainer/Coach

Alex finds your lack of coordination endlessly entertaining. The first time she saw you trip over a foam dodgeball, she burst into laughter and nearly dropped her protein shake. “You’re like Bambi learning to walk, but cuter!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. You glared at her, but your blush betrayed you.

She tries to train you anyway, because she believes in the impossible. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve trained NBA-level players. I can definitely teach you to catch a volleyball.” Five minutes later, you bonked yourself in the forehead with it. She kissed the red mark and said, “Okay, we’ll start with breathing exercises.”

She takes videos of your flops to watch later and giggle. You caught her once rewatching your failed somersault attempt while drinking wine and giggling like a teenager. “Don’t worry,” she said with a wink. “It’s for analysis purposes.” You deleted the video, and she immediately demanded a reenactment.

Alex loves showing you off in front of her athlete friends. She wraps an arm around your shoulder and announces proudly, “This cutie? Completely useless at sports. And still mine.” They laugh, and you groan, but she’s already kissing your cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re better than all of them at cuddling.”

She makes you do warm-ups with her for fun, knowing you’ll fail spectacularly. “Okay! High knees! Stretch! Breathe! Lift those arms, gorgeous!” You collapse halfway through, panting like a dying hamster. She gives you water and a massage like you just finished a marathon

She’s lowkey protective when people laugh at your efforts. If anyone snickers when you mess up in PE, Alex’s expression drops from sunshine to stormcloud. “Laugh again and I’ll accidentally spike a basketball into your face,” she’ll say sweetly. No one ever laughs twice.

She sneakily flirts during “training” sessions to distract you from failing. “Okay, dribble the ball… and look at me like that again and I might let you win.” You forget the ball entirely. “Oops,” she smirks. “Guess we’re playing a different game now.”

At the end of the day, she wouldn’t change a thing. You bring softness to her loud life, laughter to her serious moments, and kisses after her workouts. “You may suck at sports,” she says, cuddling against you on the couch, “but you’re perfect at being mine.” And when she says it like that, you almost believe you are an MVP.

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You should have known something was up the second Alex walked into your room wearing spandex leggings, a cropped hoodie, and a look of barely-contained excitement. She held a duffel bag in one hand and two smoothies in the other. “Surprise, babe! I signed us up for a couples’ boot camp class at the park!” she chirped. You blinked at her from your blanket burrito, deeply betrayed. “I didn’t agree to this. I’m in a committed relationship, with my couch.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were gasping for breath beside her on a yoga mat, swearing your legs had betrayed you. The instructor had just yelled something about burpees, and Alex was bouncing like she lived on a planet with less gravity. “Come on, sweetie! Use those beautiful thighs!” she called, clearly living her best life. You wheezed back, “My thighs have given up on me. Tell them I said goodbye.”

Alex didn’t stop smiling, even when you collapsed halfway through jumping jacks and accidentally hit yourself in the face. She offered you water with a wink, dabbing your forehead with the corner of her towel like you were the star of a sports movie. Except instead of winning the big game, you were struggling not to pass out in public. “You’re doing great, darling,” she said, kissing your nose. “I’ve never seen someone flop this artistically.”

By the end of the session, your body felt like overcooked spaghetti, and Alex looked like she could run a marathon and then teach Zumba. She practically skipped beside you as you hobbled out of the park. “That was amazing! We should make this a weekly thing!” she beamed. You gave her a flat look. “Only if you also agree to a weekly nap class where I teach you how to lie down and do nothing.”

Later that evening, the two of you were curled up on the couch, and Alex had her legs slung over yours, scrolling through her phone. You caught her watching a video, of you. Flailing dramatically during high knees. “Alex,” you groaned, burying your face in a cushion. “Are you really watching my athletic downfall for fun?” She grinned. “For science. And also because you’re adorable when you suffer.”

She kissed your temple then, soft and warm, and rested her head on your shoulder. “I love that you came with me even though you hate it,” she said. “You were sweaty, breathless, and wildly uncoordinated, and still the cutest person there.” You rolled your eyes but felt the heat creeping into your cheeks. “You’re weird.” “You’re welcome,” she replied smugly.

When she offered to carry you bridal-style to the kitchen later, you thought she was joking, until she actually scooped you up and strutted like she’d won a trophy. “See?” she purred. “You don’t need to be athletic. That’s my job. You just focus on being adorable and letting me show off.” You groaned, but didn’t resist. It was hard to argue when you were weightless in her arms and laughing uncontrollably.

By the time she plopped you onto a stool and started prepping your favorite snack, you had fully accepted your role in this relationship: chaotic disaster, protected and adored by a goddess in sneakers. You didn’t need medals or muscle, just Alexandra Garcia and the way she made you feel like a champion, even when you couldn’t catch a basketball to save your life.

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❀

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48 notes · View notes

capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

2p Axis are falling in love?

LUCIANO VARGAS (Italy), LUTZ BEILSCHMIDT (Germany), and KURO HONDA (Japan) Falling in Love Headcanons

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A/N: Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for requesting this headcanon, and I tried my best to give the best portrayal for these guys. I hope you like the final result, and I'm sorry if there might be some OOC characters. I am really sorry, but I have to close the asks because my asks are overflowing, especially in the other account.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Slight Yandere and Slight Violence from Luciano

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LUCIANO VARGAS - 2P North Italy

Luciano is used to flattery and manipulation, so when you act like a normal person around him, it throws him off. You’re not intimidated by his cold stares or sharp words; you just shrug and continue. That quiet defiance makes him curious. Why aren’t you fawning over him like everyone else?

He tests you quite often. Luciano drops dark comments or flirty threats just to see how you'll react. Most people flinch or stammer, but you raise an eyebrow or call him out. He respects that you don't play into fear, and that’s rare.

Luciano doesn’t do PDA, but he always stands close, shoulder brushing yours. His eyes follow anyone who talks to you too long. If someone flirts with you, they mysteriously disappear the next day.

Luciano realizes he's thinking about you too much, and it frustrates him. He curses under his breath when your smile pops into his mind mid-meeting. He’ll blame you for it, half-seriously, but in reality he secretly does not mind.

If someone’s threatening you, you’ll never know. Luciano will deal with it behind the scenes silently and ruthlessly. He keeps his world away from you as much as he can.

Most of his smiles are smirks; they are either cold or teasing. But once in a while, when he’s relaxed with you, it slips out: a real, warm smile. It’s rare, soft, and strangely boyish, like the walls finally came down.

Luciano has his demons, and he knows it. Sometimes, he disappears for a day or two when he feels too dark. It’s his way of protecting you from the worst parts of him.

He’d rather be tortured than admit he’s in love. Luciano hates being vulnerable, especially with feelings. He’ll deny it for weeks—even to himself. But the more time he spends with you, the harder it gets to lie.

Luciano doesn’t believe in happy endings, not for people like him.But when he watches you sleep, he finds himself imagining a life together. Quiet dinners, late-night talks, maybe even kids someday. It terrifies him how much he wants that.

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Luciano Vargas was not the kind of boy anyone called gentle. Sharp words, sharper suits, and a reputation soaked in rumors followed him wherever he walked. People kept their distance, not just because of his cold stare or the silver knife tucked into his coat, but because he seemed untouchable, like a shadow that knew your secrets.

And because of that, when you showed up, all wide-eyed and utterly unimpressed, it cracked something in him. You weren’t afraid. You didn’t flinch when he made a dry remark and didn’t shrink away from his intimidating silence. That annoyed him. And intrigued him. Mostly intrigued.

He started testing you after that. Subtle things at first; sarcastic comments, brush-by smirks, questions laced with double meanings. You met them with eye rolls, light laughter, or clever comebacks that left him speechless. No one ever did that. No one dared. But there you were, poking at the edges of his mask like it wasn’t made of glass and teeth.

He didn’t understand why his chest felt lighter when you smiled. He blamed it on coffee, then on boredom. But neither explained why he couldn’t stop watching you from across the room. Luciano never confessed he liked you. Not in words. He’d shove your favorite snack into your hands with a grumble, lean just a little too close when walking side by side, or flick away someone’s wandering gaze from you with an icy glare.

You noticed the way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you something, how his presence wrapped around you like smoke, comforting yet mysterious. The air always felt different when he was near. And for someone who claimed not to care, he sure acted like you were something worth guarding.

The first time he taught you how to defend yourself, it wasn’t out of casual curiosity.

“If someone grabs your wrist like this,” he said when the two of you meet together in the afternoon, gripping you gently but firmly,

“You twist like this, quick. Elbow, ribs. Don’t hesitate.” You blinked but followed his movements. It felt more like a dance than a lesson.

“Why are you showing me this?” you asked.

He looked away, jaw tight and lips pursed together. “Because I won’t always be around. So learn.”

It was one of those late, quiet evenings when it all changed. The sky bled into lavender and smoke outside the window, and he sat beside you, silent, his gaze far away. You thought he’d fallen asleep until you heard him whisper something, his voice low like a secret.

“You make it hard to stay cold," you hear his every word.

You didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. But your heart hammered like thunder. Luciano, the boy made of steel and secrets, had just peeled back the first layer and handed it to you. From that night on, things softened. Not by much, but enough. He still cursed under his breath when you teased him and still rolled his eyes when you called him out for being overprotective, but there was a glint in his eye now.

A warmth. He let you see parts of him he didn’t show anyone else: the quiet grief in his silences, the gentle way he fixed your coat without saying a word, and the way his hand lingered on yours just a moment longer each time.

Luciano started talking about his past in fragments: shadows of memories, half-finished stories that he left some as secrets. You listened without judgment, and that seemed to disarm him more than anything.

“I’ve done things,” he said in a monotone, his voice dry. “Bad things. You should hate me...but you didn’t."

You reached for his hand instead, squeezing it once, grounding him. And he just stared at you, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It scared him how much he wanted a future with you. Luciano didn’t believe in fairy tales. But sometimes, when you were asleep beside him, he imagined waking up like this forever. Maybe it wasn’t a white picket fence kind of dream, but it was yours and his.

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❀

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LUTZ BEILSCHMIDT - 2p Germany

Lutz didn’t realize he liked you at first. It hit him like a truck one day when you laughed too loud and shoved his arm. His usual flirtatious teasing stalled, and for a moment he forgot to smirk. It scared him a little. Not because he wasn’t brave, but because he suddenly cared too much.

He starts hanging around more than usual, giving dumb excuses like 'I was bored' or 'I had beer left over.' But he’s secretly watching over you like a hawk. If anyone messes with you even slightly, he’s suddenly in their face with a charming grin and veiled threats.

Lutz shows affection through actions more than words. He’ll fix that squeaky door hinge, patch your broken phone case, or carry your stuff without being asked.

He sends you chaotic texts at 3AM like:“Hey, do you think vampires need dental insurance?” He tries to sound casual, but you can tell he worries about you even when you’re not around.

He becomes insanely touchy once you start dating. Arms slung over your shoulders, constant hand-holding, sneaky hugs from behind. Physical affection is his love language, no doubt.

He spoils you in weird ways, like bringing you five different snacks because “I didn’t know which one you wanted.” He doesn’t do fancy candlelit dinners, but he does drag you on late-night bike rides or carnival dates.

Lutz loves when you play with his hair. He'll grumble at first, but then tilt his head toward your hands like a sleepy cat. It’s one of the only things that can make him go silent, purely relaxed.

When you’re upset, Lutz will drop everything. Even if he doesn’t know what to say, he’s there for you and holding your hand, cracking dumb jokes to make you laugh. He’d rather go through hell with you than let you cry alone.

He has dreams about a future with you but doesn’t tell you right away. Little flashes: living together, lazy mornings, maybe even cute cats with you to cuddle with. You catch him staring sometimes, eyes soft in a way you’ve never seen but you can see a warm tint in his eyes

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The first time Lutz saw you, it wasn’t anything poetic. No halo of sunlight or birds chirping. You were laughing at something dumb with a group of friends while showing something funny on your phone, or you were choking on your saliva from laughing too much. However, for some reason, that sound made him stop mid-sip of his energy drink. He couldn’t explain it, not then.

But something about the way you tilted your head, smiling widely, the lights in your eyes, your laughter despite it not being elegant at all, and if he had to be honest. Your laughter sounded like a tea kettle, completely unapologetic and unhinged, burned into his brain like a brand. And for the first time in a long time, he forgot to be cool.

He didn't fall for you all at once. Nah, Lutz was too stubborn for that. It started in pieces, like tiny moments that crawled under his skin. The way you argued with him instead of backing down and the way you rolled your eyes when he flirted, you were not flustered but amused by his attempt.

You didn’t swoon. You didn’t play along. You challenged him. And Lutz, cocky, chaotic, loud-mouthed Lutz, had never been so fascinated in his life. He started showing up more, lurking near wherever you were, tossing you nicknames like “trouble” or “hotshot” and pretending it was just harmless fun.

But there was nothing harmless about the way his eyes lingered on you. Or how he’d casually wrap an arm around your shoulder, just to see how you’d react. At first, you didn’t give any so he got bolder. Not because he wanted to scare you off, but because he wanted to be seen by you.

Under all the wildness, there was something softer. He showed it in strange ways: tossing you his hoodie when it rained, sliding you your favorite drink without asking, standing too close when someone made you uncomfortable.

“Just looking out for my favorite person,” he’d say, like it was a joke.

You could feel it, the real concern written on his face through his violet eyes, hidden behind his smirk. You started to realize there was more to him than the loud laugh and skull rings. It was one night, things shifted. You were both sitting outside, the sky bleeding into night, his feet kicked up on a bench, yours dangling off the edge.

There was a long silence between you, but it wasn’t awkward and doesn't feel forced. Just comforting silence.

“Y’know,” he said suddenly, staring straight ahead.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m some kind of circus act.” You blinked. He didn’t look at you.

He just took another drag of his soda and added, with a softer voice “Thanks for that.”

You reached over and laced your fingers with his. No big speech. No grand reaction. Just quiet understanding. And Lutz, who lived his life at full volume, didn’t pull away. Didn’t make a joke. He just let it happen. Let you happen. For once, someone saw him without the mask, and he didn’t want to run from it.

After that, it was different. He still teased you mercilessly, still sent you memes at 2AM and dared you to skip class with him, but now there was something else. A protectiveness. A gentleness hidden under the chaos. When you were upset, he didn’t try to fix it. He just showed up, hoodie and all, letting you cry into his shoulder while he quietly held you.

He never outright said “I love you.” But he said it in the way he reached for your hand without thinking. In the way he glared at anyone who looked at you too long. In the playlists he made that bounced from metal to cheesy love songs. He said it in the way he laughed easier when you were around, in the way his voice softened when he asked 'Did jou eat today?' or 'Jou sleep okay?' Every piece of him spoke in actions, not words.

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❀

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KURO HONDA - 2p Japan

Kuro don't fall in love fast, he observed. Quietly. From the shadows.He noticed the way you carried yourself, how your eyes shine or when you were thinking, the tiny shifts in your voice.

He never says “I like you” outright. Instead, he begins appearing wherever you are, subtly altering his routine to match yours. You catch him glancing at you when he thinks you're not looking.

Kuro notices the smallest details about you: your coffee order, how you tie your shoes, the words you repeat.He stores it all like a well-guarded file in his mind. When he surprises you with your favorite snack on a hard day, you wonder how he knew.

Once you're close, he starts doing things like walking you home even if it’s out of his way. When you thank him, he just shrugs, as if he didn’t just carve time out of his day just for you.

He keeps a small sketchbook hidden away, inside are tiny and precise drawings of you. Never full portraits, just fragments: the curl of your hair, your hands, the way your eyes look when you laugh.

Kuro opens up slowly, like an ancient book with pages sealed by time. You become the only one allowed to see the chapters he keeps hidden. His traumas, regrets, and lingering self-doubts slip out in quiet conversations under the stars.

He learns what makes you anxious and helps you avoid it without making a big deal. If loud crowds overwhelm you, he’ll find a quiet exit. If someone flirts with you and it makes you uncomfortable, he’ll insert himself smoothly without you noticing.

He rarely smiles but with you, it happens more often than he’d like to admit. Not wide grins, but small, real ones that tug at the corners of his mouth. When he lets out a breathy chuckle? That’s gold.

With Kuro, love isn’t flashy or loud but it’s constant. It’s the silence filled with comfort, the gaze that sees you even when you’re invisible to the world. You become the one soul he lets into his guarded wall

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Kuro had always preferred silence. Not the absence of sound, but the kind of stillness that hummed just beneath the surface; clean, undisturbed, and peaceful. That’s why he noticed you. You weren’t loud like the others, weren’t trying to impress anyone and the way you act just like a background character.

But somehow you disrupted the stillness in a way he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t pierce the silence you fit into it, like a soft wind threading through falling leaves. He watched from afar at first, hidden behind cold glances and half-hearted shrugs or when he was reading his manga, secretly glancing at you.

That was safer. Distance meant control, and Kuro lived for control. But the more he watched you, the more his carefully constructed walls cracked. The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking, the way your fingers moved while sketching absentmindedly on your notebook, the way you listened with your whole heart

The first time you spoke to him, it felt like static in his chest. Nothing profound, just a simple comment about the rain. But he remembered it.

"Today is raining again, huh?" You said to him.

He remembered the exact tilt of your head and how you didn’t flinch under his stare. Most people looked away, uncomfortable under his quiet intensity. But not you. You held eye contact like it was an invitation. Like you saw him.

He started walking the long way around just to pass by your locker. He didn’t talk much, but you did. And Kuro found comfort in the sound of your voice even if he rarely responded with more than a nod or a muttered agreement. The way you filled the silence without breaking it was something he hadn’t realized he needed. It was like you understood how to exist beside him without trying to fix him.

One rainy afternoon, when you sat beside him under the outdoor walkway overhang, sharing warmth from a too-small umbrella, something shifted. You talked about nothing in particular, but he listened like it was everything. You offered him a piece of your snack,

"Do you want some?" You offer him your pocky sticks.

And when he took it without a word, your fingers brushed.

Kuro started showing up more often, always a little closer than before. He’d slide his books beside yours, walk a little slower when you were behind him. And when someone made a joke at your expense one day, Kuro’s tone cut through the hallway like a knife. “Don’t” was all he said. Cold. Sharp. And no one dared cross that line again.

He never said he liked you. Not directly. But one day, he pressed a small folded paper into your hand before disappearing down the hall. Inside was a sketch; your face turned upward, eyes closed, peaceful. Underneath it, in small, neat handwriting, was a single line: You calm the noise in my mind. You stared at the page for a long time, your chest warmed up.

Later that night, you messaged him:

Do you really feel that way?

His reply came only minutes later and it was just a simple:

Yes.

It wasn’t a confession full of fireworks. But for him, that one word held the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. He had spent so long in silence, your presence was the only sound he wanted to keep.

He didn’t become a different person overnight. He was still quiet. Still guarded. But he reached for your hand now, slowly like you were something precious. He shows his smile more. It was tiny, rare smiles that made your heart flutter. And in his silence, you finally found something you didn’t expect: his love was silent but the action speaks louder, and it was as deep as a sea.

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84 notes · View notes

capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

Oh shiii- I hope you ate not bored with me but i was basically the one who bribes you with cheesecake LMAOOO.

Can I request for KNB (Akashi, Kise, Kasamatsu, Hayama, Nebuya and Shinya) Getting Jealous?

💔KISE RYOUTA, KASAMATSU YUKIO, and SHINYA NAKAMURA Getting Jealous Headcanons 💔

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Hello, there Anon. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Gender: Neutral Warning: Profanity and Creepy Guys

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KISE RYOUTA - SMALL FOWARD/ACE - Kaijō High

He approaches with his usual charming smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He wraps an arm around your shoulder a bit too tightly, pulling you close. “Oh, you must not know, but this cutie’s mine~,” he says in a singsong tone.

Kise tries to out-charm the flirter with exaggerated praise about you. He throws in little details only a boyfriend would know, just to flex. "Oh? You think they’re cute? Well, of course she/he/they're perfect, right?”

Kise starts calling you cute nicknames in public like “baby!” or “sweetheart.” It’s not just out of affection; it’s territorial marking in disguise.

He tries to act unbothered, but his eyes keep darting to the creep. If looks could kill, they’d be six feet under in seconds. You gently nudge him to behave, and he huffs like a sulking kid.

Expect to be featured on his Instagram with captions like “My everything 💛✨”He’ll flood your feed with selfies of you together after the incident. The more hearts and comments he gets, the more smug he becomes.

Expect forehead kisses, hugs from behind, and spontaneous hand-holding. Even if it’s in front of the entire school, he doesn’t care. He wants the world to know you’re taken.

After all the drama, Kise just wants to cuddle you in silence. He wraps himself around you like a blanket burrito, sighing softly. Silently, he would ask you if you were going to leave him, so you had to assure him.

Kise knows he can’t stop people from flirting, but he can out-love them. He decides to show you affection more openly, more confidently. Every little moment with you becomes a chance to remind you of his love.

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The gym was buzzing with energy, the sound of basketballs bouncing in rhythm and sneakers squeaking against the polished wood. You sat cross-legged on the bleachers, eyes fixed on one blond-haired boy weaving between defenders like it was nothing. Kise Ryouta, your boyfriend, your golden boy.

Even drenched in sweat, he looked like he stepped off a magazine cover. You waved when he glanced your way, and he flashed that boyish grin of his before sinking another perfect shot. While Kise took a water break, a guy from a neighboring school approached, clearly unaware of the boundary he was about to cross.

He leaned on the railing just below you, flashing a charming smile. “Didn’t think I’d see someone as cute as you here,” he said, voice smooth and confident. “Are you cheering for your brother or something?” The guy/the girl wiggles her eyebrows, which looks stupid. "No, I'm actually cheering for my boyfriend," you bluntly said, not caring if you were rude or not.

Kise who had paused mid-sip, was staring at the sight with surprise. His brows furrowed slightly, and even from that distance, you could see the tension ripple through him like a wave. The guy didn’t take the hint. He leaned in a little closer, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Boyfriend? Can’t be that serious, right? I mean, someone like you deserves more attention than just from one guy.”

You were about to grab the guy's mouth and just rip his face off this time until a shadow fell across you both. Kise’s smile was there, but it was tight and dripping with something cold. He draped his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him "Oh? I didn’t know we were inviting weirdo to talk with you,” he said with mock surprise. "I’m Kise Ryouta. Her/his/their boyfriend.” The guy blinked, laughed nervously, and muttered a quick excuse before hurrying off

As soon as the guy disappeared, Kise dropped the act. He looked down at you with wide, worried eyes, his pout forming. “Were you okay? Did he bother you?” His hand found yours, fingers lacing through tightly like he was afraid to lose you. "I was fine. You didn’t need to scare him like that, though.” You squeezed back and smiled. "I had to. He was eyeing you like you were a candy," he huffed.

For the rest of practice, Kise was noticeably clingier. He shot glances your way every five seconds and would run over between plays just to brush your hair behind your ear or kiss your cheek dramatically. “So everyone knows who you belong to,” he’d whisper, even if his teammates groaned in the background. You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning, but let him do it.

Later that evening, walking home under a sky dusted with stars, he was quieter. His hand was still in yours, but he kept looking down at the pavement. “Hey,” he said finally, voice softer than usual, “you don’t think guys like him are better than me, right?” You stopped in your tracks and stared at him, stunned.

You turned to face him fully and rose on your toes to kiss his nose. “Kise Ryouta,” you said with a smile, “you could be the most famous, most handsome model in Japan or just some random hobo or random high schooler with bad hair like a bird's nest. I would still choose you." He blinked once, then twice, before breaking into a grin and snicker at your joke.

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❀

KASAMATSU YUKIO - POINT GUARD/CAPTAIN - Kaijō High

Kasamatsu isn’t loud when he gets jealous; he's deadly silent. The moment someone flirts with you, his eyes narrow and sharpen like daggers. He doesn’t interrupt, but the tension around him is so obvious.

He’ll walk up and quietly place a hand on your back, a subtle possessive move. “Hey. We’re leaving,” he mutters with a scowl, not even acknowledging the other person. You can practically feel the sulk radiating from him.

After seeing someone flirt with you, he heads straight to the gym. The sound of basketballs thudding is extra aggressive today. You watch him from the sidelines, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. He eventually comes back, hair damp, still fuming slightly.

Later, when you ask if he was jealous, he scoffs and looks away as he denies that he was jealous, but his face is red, and he’s fidgeting with his sleeves. You know better than to believe his tough act.

He holds it together in public, but once you're alone, he sighs heavily. “I know you’re loyal… I just hate it when people look at you like that.” You hug him from behind, resting your cheek against his back as he relaxes.

After the flirting incident, he starts keeping you a little closer in public. If someone even glances your way, his arm’s suddenly around your waist. He won’t say anything unless needed.

Even if he doesn’t say much, his mind replays the flirting over and over. He’s quieter than usual, gaze stuck out the window in class. When you finally catch him daydreaming, he jolts and avoids your gaze.

He’s not huge on public displays of affection usually. But suddenly, he’s grabbing your hand in the hallway or brushing your hair behind your ear. It’s subtle, but noticeable, and it makes your heart skip.

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The school gym was buzzing with the hum of after-school activity. The basketball team had just finished practice, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and floor polish. You leaned against the cool metal of the bleachers, watching Kasamatsu wipe his face with a towel, his hair damp and his expression focused as always. He caught your gaze and gave a brief, shy nod and his version of waving when surrounded by teammates.

You were about to go down and meet him when a guy from Class 2-B strolled up, his smile too casual to be innocent. Well, you do know this guy because he was in your next class, but you never really interacted with him, and your friends warn you about him. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see someone as cute as you just standing here alone," he said, hands tucked in his pockets.

You blinked in surprise, caught off-guard by the sudden compliment. He stepped a little closer, clearly mistaking your pause for interest. Kasamatsu saw it. You knew the moment it registered: his entire posture shifted, his shoulders stiffening, and the towel in his hand stilling mid-motion. He didn’t storm over or yell like you'd expect from someone so temperamental.

Instead, he walked over quietly, calm in the most intense way possible. Each step he took sounded heavier than the last, and by the time he reached your side, the air had chilled. “Oi,” Kasamatsu said sharply, voice low. He stood close, not touching you, but close enough that anyone could see what it meant. “This area’s for team members and guests. If you’re not either, leave.”

His eyes didn’t waver, and the other boy laughed awkwardly, brushing it off before muttering something and walking away. The second he was gone, the gym seemed to breathe again. You turned to Kasamatsu, arms crossed, fighting the smirk tugging at your lips. “That was… intense. Jealous much?" you teased, raising a brow.

He scoffed and looked away, his cheeks already starting to tint. “What? No. I just, he was being annoying. That guy flirts with everyone. He’s a creep.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and he coughed like it would hide it.

You looped your arm through his as the two of you walked toward the school gates. He didn’t pull away, though he was visibly flustered. “You know I wasn’t flirting back, right? You don’t have to go into scary captain mode just because someone says hi," You said gently, placing your hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t answer right away, but his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “I know,” he muttered finally. “But still. I don’t like the way he looked at you. Like you were… available.” You stopped walking for a second and faced him, your heart softening at the stubborn way he refused to meet your gaze. It was so Kasamatsu, tough on the outside, but underneath is just a shy and soft teddy bear.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m not available. I'm only your's, Yukio," you said with a soft smile on your face and giving him a peck on his cheeks. His entire face went red. He nearly dropped your hand out of sheer panic, but you saw the smallest smile forming at the corners of his lips.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

SHINYA NAKAMURA - SHOOTING GUARD - Kaijō High

Shinya’s eyes immediately sharpen the moment he sees someone flirting with you. His relaxed demeanor vanishes, replaced by cold calculation and a piercing stare.

If the person flirting gets too bold, Shinya will grin, but it won’t reach his eyes. It’s the kind of smirk that says 'Try it again. I dare you'. He’s not the type to make a public scene, but he’ll roast them politely, yet brutally.

If the creep is someone he knows, he’ll get extra sarcastic around them. “Oh, hey! Still trying those awful pickup lines, huh? It's seems working since you have no girlfriend/boyfriend” ooofff burnnn, he doesn't play.

Once you're alone, he’ll ask, “Do you know that guy?” with casual curiosity. But his eyes are far from casual, they’re scanning your reaction. He’s not accusing you, just trying to understand who thought they had a chance.

If you're out together and someone starts flirting, he immediately reaches for your hand. Not subtly. He laces his fingers with yours like a silent “back off.” He doesn’t even look at the creep, he just acts like you’re the only one that matters.

Normally, Shinya might call you by your name or something casual. But when he’s jealous, he suddenly gets bold with pet names. “Babe,” “Love,” or even “Sweetheart” comes out in public like it’s natural.

Shinya isn’t usually clingy, but post-jealousy? He’s all about proximity. He’ll sit closer, drape his jacket over your shoulders, ruffle your hair more. It’s all subtle but very intentional.

He may be jealous, overthinking, even sulking like an overgrown baby but in this case a man but when you kiss him, it all fades. Your words always hold more weight than anyone else’s.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

You had only turned away for a second to look at the vending machine, and already, someone had taken that as an invitation to start a conversation. The guy stood confidently beside you, leaning his elbow against the machine like it was a prop in some low-budget romance drama. “You look like you could use something sweet,” he said with a grin, nodding at the drink you were picking," the guy eyebrows wiggles like a catterpillar like those cartoons.

You forced a polite smile, your fingers frozen on the selection button. Where was Shinya? As if summoned by your unease, Shinya appeared just behind the guy, silent as a shadow. You didn’t even see him at first, but you felt his presence in the air.

The subtle shift in the air, the heat of his stare boring into the side of the creepy guy face. “Funny,” Shinya said coolly, slipping an arm around your waist without breaking eye contact. “She/he/they already have something sweet. They don't need a fly buzzing around her/him/them” His tone was smooth, but his grip was just tight enough to say 'don’t test me'.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, you’re his/her/their…?” His voice trailed off as Shinya’s expression sharpened, no smile in sight. The guy laughed awkwardly and stepped back, muttering something about not meaning to interrupt before the guy scurry away with a tail between his legs.

Shinya didn’t even nod. He waited until the stranger had disappeared into the hallway before letting out a quiet sigh and loosening his hold on you, just a little. You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Jealous, much?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Shinya didn’t answer at first. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his usual calm expression giving way to something vulnerable. “He looked at you like you weren't taken.....I didn’t like it.” He muttered, rarely admitted things like that out loud. “I wasn’t going to flirt back,” you said gently, reaching up to fix a strand of his hair that had fallen over his forehead.

He finally looked at you, his eyes stormy but softening. “I know. But people like that think they can just swoop in, like they have a chance," he said. His fingers found yours, lacing them together without asking. “I know it’s dumb, but… I don’t want to lose you. Not even for a second.”

You leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his chest. His heart was racing beneath the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t often that Shinya showed how much he worried, not about grades, not about games, and definitely not about people. But with you? His cool demeanor cracked when someone threatened his darling.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey there! Can I get a headcannon of 2p Germany, Italy, and Japan? I would like to request a crushing headcannon 🥰🥰🥰

LUCIANO VARGAS (Italy), LUTZ BEILSCHMIDT (Germany), and KURO HONDA (Japan) Crushing Headcanons

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Warning: None

Gender: Neutral

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LUCIANO VARGAS - 2P North Italy

Luciano isn’t the type to stumble over his words when he flirts with you. His voice is silky smooth, teasing yet laced with a dangerous charm that makes your heart race. He enjoys watching you get flustered

Luciano has a refined taste and expects you to match it, often surprising you with expensive gifts. However, if you ever try to call him out on being ‘sweet,’ he’ll scoff and say it’s just because you need ‘aesthetic improvement.’

He doesn’t outright say, “You’re mine,” but his actions speak for him. His arm will casually rest on the back of your chair when others are around. If someone flirts with you, he’ll step closer, tilt your chin up, and remind you exactly who you belong to with a smirk.

He won’t admit it, but he does his research on what you like. If you mention an artist, expect to find rare pieces from them in your possession. If you like a certain book, he might casually discuss it, pretending he just happened to read it too.

If you ever get mad at him over something trivial, he’ll just smirk and tease you further. But if it’s something serious, his expression darkens, and he’ll actually take the time to listen. Apologizing isn’t his strong suit, but he’ll find another way to make it up to you.

Luciano doesn’t outright brag, but he enjoys impressing you. Whether it’s his cooking, fighting skills, or intelligence, he makes sure you notice his strengths. And if you compliment him? Expect his ego to swell—though he’ll pretend to be nonchalant about it.

He has a habit of calling you names that range from elegant to outright bizarre. “Bella” is a common one, but don’t be surprised if he calls you something odd like “Piccolo Demonio” (little demon) just to get a reaction.

Once Luciano knows you truly belong to him, he’s utterly devoted. He may still tease, smirk, and act smug, but there’s a new depth in his eyes—a silent promise that you’re the only one who matters. And if anyone dares to hurt you? Well, let’s just say they won’t be a problem for much longer.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

You had always known that Luciano Vargas wasn’t the kind of guy you could predict. He was smooth-talking, sharp-eyed, and had a smirk that could either melt you or send shivers down your spine—sometimes both at the same time. But lately, something about him had changed.

The way he looked at you lingered just a little too long, his teasing had taken on a more possessive edge, and he seemed to always be around, whether you noticed him at first or not. It was like he was drawn to you, and you weren’t sure if that should make you nervous or excited.

It wasn’t just his presence, it was the way he was present. He’d lean in close when he spoke, his voice a low murmur near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He’d trail his fingers along your wrist under the guise of inspecting your bracelet, his touch barely there but making your heart pound anyway. And when someone else got too close, he didn’t glare or cause a scene.

No, Luciano played his games subtly: an arm draped lazily around your shoulders, a casual “accidental” brush of his fingers against yours, a smirk aimed at whoever dared to think they could have your attention. “You should be more careful,” he murmured one day, twirling the ends of your scarf between his fingers. "Some people might get the wrong idea, cara mia/mio." And his eyes look at you sharply. “And what idea is that?” you challenged, crossing your arms.

Luciano only chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. His scent was something warm, rich, and just slightly dangerous and wrapped around you like an invisible trap. “That you belong to someone,” he whispered, tilting your chin up with a single finger.

It wasn’t fair how easily he got under your skin. You had tried teasing him back once, calling him out on his flirtations, but the smug bastard only seemed to enjoy it. Yet, when you had turned the tables, calling him out for being jealous when you laughed a little too long at someone else’s joke, his smirk had faltered just for a second. "You think I’m jealous?” He scoffed, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve. “Tsk, tsk, bella/bello. I don’t get jealous. I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” His fingers had curled around your wrist, holding you just firm enough to make your breath hitch.

The confession had left you speechless. And maybe, deep down, you had already known. The extravagant little gifts he never admitted were for you, the way he paid attention to your favorite things, how his touch was always just enough to remind you he was there. Luciano had long since decided that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it outright.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind. Because when he pulled you into an unexpected dance one evening, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his smirk was softer than usual. “Relax, tesoro,” he whispered, guiding you effortlessly. “You’ll get used to being in my arms soon enough.” And just like that, you knew you had fallen into his game. The worst part? You were starting to enjoy playing it.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

LUTZ BEILSCHMIDT - 2p Germany

Lutz wants you to think he’s the epitome of coolness. He’ll show off by lifting heavy things, revving his motorcycle unnecessarily, or casually mentioning his "bad boy" reputation. But the second you actually compliment him, he turns red and mutters, “Yeah, well… of course. I am avesome.”

He acts like your personal bodyguard, always standing between you and anyone suspicious. He’ll crack his knuckles and give people the look if they even breathe in your direction the wrong way. The funny thing? Half the time, there’s no danger; he just wants to look tough for you.

Lutz hates it when someone else makes you laugh because that’s his job. He’ll immediately try to one-up them, telling dumb jokes or doing stupid stunts just to make you laugh harder. And if you say he’s funny? Oh, he’s smirking for the rest of the day.

He’s the kind of guy who ruffles your hair, bumps shoulders with you, or casually pulls you into a bear hug. If he really likes you, his arm is probably always around you. And if you lean into it? Yeah, he’s melting inside, but he’ll never admit it.

He has no idea how to shop for crushes, so his gifts are either really cool or comically bad. One time, he got you a sick leather bracelet, perfect. Another time, he got you a knife because “it looked badass,” and you had to remind him you’re not in a gang.

“Babe”, “Hot Stuff", “Sweet Cheeks,” and even “My Tiny Nugget” (if you’re short). He’s constantly testing out new ones just to see your reaction. If you play along and call him a cute nickname? He goes so red but pretends he’s fine.

He acts like the big, strong, untouchable guy, but around you? He’s so weak. He’ll let you braid his hair, mess up his leather jacket, or steal his sunglasses, and he won’t even get mad. The first time you realized this, you knew you owned him.

The second he knows you actually like him back, he’s all in. He’ll still joke around, but his protectiveness and affection reach a whole new level. And if you ever doubt his feelings, he’ll just laugh, pull you into a hug, and say, “Babe, you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs.”

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The first time you noticed something was different about Lutz Beilschmidt, it wasn’t because of anything he said—it was the way he looked at you. Not his usual smirks, not his playful winks, but something deeper, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

You weren’t sure when it started, but lately, his teasing had turned into something warmer. His touches lingered, his arm naturally found its way around your shoulders, and there was an unmistakable gleam in his crimson eyes whenever you so much as smiled at him. “You’re staring,” you muttered, arching a brow as you leaned against the fence outside the park. “Yeah? Can’t help it. You’re kinda my favorite thing to look at, Schatz.” he grinned, nudging his sunglasses down his nose just enough to give you that cocky look

It wasn’t fair, really. Lutz had a way of making the most ridiculous things sound effortlessly cool. And it wasn’t just words—he acted like it, too. Like the time he shoved his leather jacket into your arms when you shivered, muttering, “Wear it, or I’m gonna be mad.”

Or the time he saw some random guy flirting with you and nearly crushed his beer can in half before slinging an arm around you and laughing way too loudly. Not that you minded. You liked this side of him, this mix of tough and stupidly sweet. But he was still Lutz, still the guy who would rather wrestle a bear than talk about feelings seriously.

Which is why, when you brought up the fact that he seemed a little… possessive, he scoffed, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Me? Possessive?” He let out an exaggerated laugh, but his fingers twitched at his sides. “Pffft. Nah. I don’t get jealous. I just-” He paused, giving you a sidelong glance before adding, “—don’t like when people forget their place. That’s all.” He murmurs, but loud enough for you to hear the snip bit of it.

You smirked. “So if I, let’s say, went on a date with someone else—” Lutz grabbed your wrist before you could even finish, his grip firm but careful. “You wouldn’t,” he said, and there was something in his voice, something real. “You wouldn’t do that to me.” His eyes were cold but you could see a flash of lights.

For once, he wasn’t joking. His usual easygoing grin was gone, replaced with something more serious, more raw. It made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “I wouldn’t,” you admitted softly. “Not if you told me why it would bother you so much.”

Lutz stared at you for a long second before exhaling, running a hand through his hair. Then, with that familiar smirk playing at his lips, he shrugged. “Because, babe,” he said, tapping your nose playfully. “You’re mine. And I don’t do take-backs.”

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

KURO HONDA - 2p Japan

Kuro isn’t the type to openly express his feelings at least, not at first. He watches you from the shadows, memorizing the little things you do, like how you tilt your head when you’re thinking. If you ever catch him staring, he simply looks away as if nothing happened.

Rather than confessing outright, he expresses his feelings in small, quiet ways. He’ll leave your favorite snack on your desk, adjust your scarf when it’s cold, or ensure you get the last cup of tea. He likes to show his care through actions rather than words.

Kuro isn’t naturally touchy, but when you lean against him or hold onto his sleeve, he doesn’t pull away. At first, he pretends it’s annoying, but the way his fingers subtly press back against yours tells a different story. If you hug him? He stands stiff for a moment before awkwardly patting your head.

Kuro won’t make a show of it, but he’s always subtly watching out for you. If you’re walking in a crowded place, he positions himself slightly in front of you. If someone is being rude to you, his voice takes on a cold, sharp edge that sends shivers down their spine.

He can make sharp, teasing comments effortlessly, but the second you flip the script on him, he’s thrown off. If you suddenly call him “cute” or lean in a little too close, his fingers tighten into a fist. “Tch. Don’t play games you can’t win,” he grumbles, looking away but his ears are definitely red.

Despite his cold exterior, Kuro genuinely feels at ease when you’re around. Your presence alone makes the world seem a little quieter, a little less exhausting. Even if you don’t speak, he’s content just sitting beside you, absorbing the warmth of your presence.

Kuro doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s breathtaking. It’s always small and fleeting, reserved for moments when you say something particularly amusing or endearing. If you ever catch it, consider yourself incredibly lucky.

The second Kuro realizes you like him back, his devotion is absolute. He won’t be overly clingy, but his actions will make it clear, he’s yours. He’ll stand beside you, defend you, and protect your peace, no matter what.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Kuro Honda wasn’t the kind of guy who confessed. He wasn’t the kind who blurted out feelings or made a scene. No, he was much too careful for that. Instead, he let his emotions settle in the quiet moments, in the spaces between glances, in the lingering warmth of a jacket draped over your shoulders.

You never heard him say it, but you felt it like the way his gaze always found you in a crowded room, like the way his fingers brushed yours just a little longer than necessary. It started subtly, like all things with Kuro. At first, it was just coincidence like him showing up at the same café you liked, taking the same route home, staying a little longer in places where you were.

But then you noticed how he always seemed to walk on the side closer to the road, how he’d pull you to his other side when passing through a crowd, his hand lightly brushing your lower back before pulling away as if it never happened. “You’re always around,” you commented once, sipping your tea as you looked at him across the table.

He barely lifted his gaze from his book, only giving a quiet hum in response. “You don’t mind,” he said simply, flipping a page. You didn’t mind. If anything, you found yourself looking forward to his presence, to the moments of comfortable silence you shared.

Kuro was different, he never needed to fill the air with unnecessary words. He just existed beside you, but there were times when his actions spoke louder than anything he could have said. Like the day someone had grabbed your wrist a little too roughly at school, and before you could react, Kuro had stepped in.

His grip on the guy’s arm had been tight but not enough to hurt and scream in pain, but enough to make a point. “Let go,” he had said, his voice sharp, eyes cold enough to send shivers down your spine. The guy had immediately backed off, and Kuro had only looked at you once, scanning your face as if to make sure you were okay, before sighing. “People are annoying,” he muttered before walking ahead.

However, when you followed him, you realized he had subtly moved closer, his presence shielding you from any unwanted attention. Not in a suffocating way, but in a way that made it clear: you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet. And that realization sent a rush of warmth through you.

The confession, when it finally came, was almost anticlimactic. You had been teasing him about something about how he always looked away when you caught him staring, maybe how he reacted whenever you jokingly flirted with him. He had been unusually quiet, staring at the sky, his fingers idly tapping against his sleeve. And then, just like that, he said it. “I like you.” Simple. Uncomplicated. As if he was stating a fact rather than confessing something that had been building for months.

You blinked, taken aback, but the seriousness in his eyes told you he wasn’t joking. Your heartbeat quickened, but instead of fumbling for words, you simply smiled. “Took you long enough.” For the first time in a while, you saw something rare, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. And just like that, the silence between you wasn’t empty anymore.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

unfortunately nz does not have an official name, and not even a really popular fanon one. most people just come up with their own names. my advice is do not ever rely on chatgpt (ai is awful for the environment and also gives you weird and frankly quite offensive things like "maori kirkland". instead just do some basic research about names (like popular names in nz, or osmething like that) to figure out what names you would like to use for him. honestly there's nothing wrong with nathaniel zacker, it's interesting and creative. also, the site behindthename is a great resource for finding names

Hello Anon!

Thank you so much for the sugvestion and I am very sorry if i'm being offensive. It was not my intention to be like that and thank you for the reminder and the sugestion. And for the Nathaniel zacker, I think it was from Deviantart and from someone posts bit I already forgot who wrote it and thought it was the official one 😅😅😅. If you guys actually know who wrote it, please mention in comment bellow.

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #erina's rant #erina speaks #erina talks #author note #answered

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capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

about your latest hetalia post, i'm a bit concerned about the name "maori kirkland"??? the māori are the indigenous people of aotearoa/new zealand, it is NOT a name people have. that's like if instead of alfred jones, america was named "america jones" LOL. also new zealand and australia are not related to england so idk why the surname kirkland was used for them either 😭

anyway this not meant to be hate at all, and you do not have to post this or anything, I just wanted to let you know! Apologies if it came off as rude in any way 😁

Hello Anon! I'm aware that I'm wrong in here.

You see. I don't really know his official or his fan name and some posts I found in Hetalia about his name is not Nathaniel Zacker. There were different names like James, Michael, or other names. I did ask ChatGPT suggestion and it suggested me that. As a fan, can you guys please help me find out his actual real name?😅😅😅😅

#erina's rant #erina talks #erina speaks #author note #important #send help #pls help #aph hetalia #hetalia #hetalia world series

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capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

Could you write me an imagine where New Zealand is grieving the loss of Australia and the Reader has to comfort him?

S/O COMFORTING A GRIEVING Nathaniel Zacker (New Zealand), BERWALD OXENSTIERNA (Sweden), JETT KIRKLAND (Australia) and TINO VÄINÄMÖINEN (Finland) OVER A LOSS of Other Country

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Hello, there, Anon. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality, and I would like to apologize for replying to the question late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as therapy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6-month internship before leaving to find a new job.

Warning: Angst, No Comfort, Profanities, and mention of sickness and mental illness.

Gender: None

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Nathaniel Zacker - New Zealand

At first, he pretended nothing had changed. He kept busy, forcing himself to move forward. But you saw the way his hands trembled whenever someone mentioned Australia.

He distracts himself with farming, rugby, and chores, acting as if everything is normal. You notice how his laughter sounds forced and his movements stiff. The weight of grief lingers in his eyes, even when he won’t talk about it.

New Zealand started cooking Australia’s favorite foods, though he never admitted why. He went through old letters, rewatching videos of his brother’s teasing laughter.

Sometimes, he swore he still heard Australia’s voice in the wind. He’d turn, expecting to see that familiar smirk, but the chair beside him was empty.

The first time he cried, it wasn’t loud or dramatic. Kneeling in the sand, staring at the waves, he whispered, "He always said he’d outlive me." Then the tears fell, silent but endless. You held him, rocking him gently with no words.

He carved small wooden kangaroos, planted a eucalyptus tree, and kept Australia’s memory alive. Slowly, the pain became stories, laughter instead of sorrow.

He realizes he’s not alone. With you by his side, he learns to live with the loss while keeping his brother’s memory alive as he makes a promise to himself to cherish the memories.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The wind carried the scent of salt and distant rain as you approached the shoreline. Nathaniel knelt in the sand, his fingers digging into the damp earth as if grounding himself. The ocean stretched endlessly before him, dark and restless, mirroring the storm in his heart. His shoulders trembled, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"He always said he’d outlive me." His words carried a sorrow so heavy that the waves seemed to pause, listening.

Then the tears came—silent and endless.

You didn’t say anything. Words wouldn’t fix this. Instead, you knelt beside him, wrapping your arms around his shaking frame, holding him close as he broke apart. His grief was quiet, but you felt it in the way his hands clutched your sleeve and the way his body curled inward as if trying to shield himself from a world without Jett. The funeral had been that morning: black suits, murmured condolences, and a framed photo placed on his coffin.

The next day, Zacker moved with quiet purpose, though his eyes remained distant. He spent the morning in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, as he carefully prepared Jett’s favorite meal. The familiar scents filled the house: a roast lamb, buttery damper, and a steaming cup of billy tea. He worked in silence, but you saw the way his hands lingered over each ingredient, as if savoring a memory.

When the meal was ready, he set a plate at the table, across from his own, where Jett used to sit. Later, he pulled out an old wooden box, filled with letters Jett had written him over the years. The pages were worn, some edges curled, others stained with coffee rings.

Nathaniel ran his fingers over the faded ink, exhaling shakily before opening the first envelope. Jett’s messy handwriting greeted him, full of jokes, teases, and stories from across the years.

"Oi, Kiwi, bet you’re still shorter than me. Miss me yet?" The words brought both a smile and an ache in his chest.

As he read, the wind outside picked up, whistling through the cracks of the windows. It sounded almost like laughter, rough and familiar. His breath hitched, and without thinking, he turned, expecting to see a familiar smirk, a flash of gold in sun-bleached hair. But the chair across from him was empty.

His fingers curled around the letter, pressing it to his chest as if holding on to something slipping through his fingers. You watched him from the doorway, heart aching for the man who had lost his brother, his anchor, his rival, his best friend. Stepping forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the present.

He didn’t look at you right away, still staring at the empty chair. Then, slowly, he exhaled and leaned into your touch, the weight of grief pressing between you both.

"He's still here, just in different way." Zacker murmured after a long silence.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Berwald Oxenstierna - Sweden

Sweden’s house feels unbearably quiet without Finland’s presence. The absence of his soft humming, light footsteps, and occasional teasing remarks makes every room feel colder.

He still types out texts to Finland, only to stop midway and delete them. The habit lingers; his fingers hesitate over the keys as if Finland might answer. You gently have to take his hand, grounding him back to reality.

He leaves Finland’s seat at the dining table untouched, as if expecting him to sit there again. The sight of the empty space makes his chest tighten, but he can’t bring himself to move it. You would silently place a candle there, a soft tribute to what was.

For a long time, he can’t say his name out loud. The weight of it in his throat is unbearable, too heavy with loss. You don't force him but speak Finland’s name softly, showing him that remembering isn’t the same as hurting.

He spends hours in his workshop, hands steady but eyes distant. One day, you find him gripping a piece of wood too tightly, jaw clenched. You take his hands in yours, pressing your forehead to his, letting him know it’s okay to feel.

He rarely cries, but when he does, it’s overwhelming. The weight of everything crashes down at once, silent tears running down his face. You simply hold him, no words are needed, just the steady presence of someone who understands.

He carves Finland’s name into a wooden plaque, placing it somewhere special. It’s not about holding on to the pain but honoring what was.

You help him set it up, whispering, "He’d be proud of you."

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The glow of the phone screen cast a pale light across Sweden’s face, the only source of brightness in the dimly lit room. You watched from the doorway as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, the faintest crease forming between his brows. The message was short, simple, just a greeting—but his thumb hesitated over the send button. Then, after a long pause, he sighed and erased it.

His hands dropped to his lap, his eyes distant. You stepped forward, gently taking his hand in yours, squeezing lightly as if to pull him back to the present.

“He’s gone, Ber,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm.

He didn’t flinch, nor did he pull away. Just silence.

He lets out a long exhale. His grip tightened ever so slightly around your fingers before he nodded, acknowledging what he already knew but still struggled to accept. You had always noticed the grief in the little things. He never spoke of it, but his actions betrayed him. The meals had become smaller, barely eaten. He would claim he wasn’t hungry, but you saw the way his fingers lingered over certain dishes.

It was the one Finland used to make, ones that carried the warmth of a home that felt just a little emptier now. You decided to do something about it for him; maybe at least it could cheer him up. The kitchen filled with familiar scents: roast salmon, rye bread, and creamy salmon soup, just as Finland used to make.

When you placed the plate in front of him, he didn’t speak. He simply stared at it for a moment, eyes unreadable. Then, much to your surprise, he picked up his spoon and began eating, slow but steady. You didn’t comment, didn’t push, just watched as he finished every single bite.

Before he could say anything, you slipped away for a moment, returning with a cup of coffee, setting it down beside him.

“You should eat. I’m sure Finland would want you to. Especially his favorite Finnish food," You gently stroke his back, reminding him to eat.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small smile ghosted his lips. It was faint, fleeting, and heavy with sorrow, but it was there. His eyes softened, his fingers brushing the rim of the cup as if your words had reached a place inside him he had long since locked away.

“He used t’ fuss at me ‘bout eatin'. Wouldn’t let me skip meals.” He muttered, his voice rough with old memories.

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep fussing at you too.”

He huffed an amused sigh, shaking his head, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

“Tack,” he said after a moment, his voice low but sincere.

He didn’t say much more, but he didn’t need to. You knew that in this moment, in this quiet space between sorrow and healing, he was grateful—not just for the meal, but for you.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Jett Kirkland - Australia

For days, he keeps checking his phone, expecting a text from New Zealand. He types out messages, only to stare at the screen before locking his phone again. You notice and gently takes his hand, reminding him that New Zealand is nto going to reply.

He keeps up the usual easygoing act, cracking jokes as if nothing’s wrong. But his laughter never reaches his eyes, and you see right through it. You don't push him to open up, just stay by his side, letting him know he doesn’t have to pretend.

At the funeral, he places an old, weathered photo of the two of them on New Zealand’s coffin. His hands tremble, but he forces himself to stay strong. Later, when he breaks down behind closed doors, you are there to hold him, no words needed.

Without New Zealand’s visits, the house feels unbearably still. No more bickering over rugby matches or teasing remarks. The silence is suffocating, and you make an effort to bring a bit of warmth back into his home: cooking, playing music, or just being there.

He skips holidays he used to celebrate with New Zealand, not having the heart to go through them alone. You gently encourage him to continue, not for tradition’s sake, but to keep New Zealand’s memory alive.

One night, he finally cracks. The weight of everything comes crashing down, and the tears fall and silent, unrelenting. You hold him through it, stroking his hair, whispering soft reassurances, and never letting go.

You start making more of New Zealand’s favorite meals, getting Jett involved. At first, he resists, but eventually, he finds comfort in the familiar scents and flavors and this activity would help him.

One day, he wakes up and the grief isn’t as suffocating. It’s still there, always will be, but it doesn’t control him anymore. He smiles: small, tired, but real. You see it and knows he’s finally starting to move forward.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Jett’s laughter echoed through the room, loud and carefree—too carefree. His usual easygoing grin stretched across his face as he cracked another joke, the people around him chuckling in response. But you saw it. The way his shoulders tensed just a little too much, the way his eyes, usually full of light, seemed dull.

It wasn’t real. His mask was slipping, but he was holding on, acting like nothing had changed. Like his world hadn’t just been shattered. You didn’t push him. Didn’t force him to talk. Instead, you stayed by his side, offering quiet support. You laughed when he joked, let him pretend for now. Because you knew, when the crowd faded, when it was just the two of you he wouldn’t be able to keep up the act.

As the second the guests leaves and the door closed, the facade crumbled. His breath hitched, shoulders shaking as he stood there, hands clenched into fists at his sides. And then, finally, it broke. The weight of everything came crashing down, and the tears spilled over—silent, endless. You were at his side in an instant, pulling him close, guiding him to sit before wrapping your arms around him.

His body trembled, and you stroked his hair, whispering soft reassurances, holding him like he might shatter. He buried his face against you, gripping your shirt as if afraid to let go. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, time slipping away as his grief poured out. When his sobs quieted, when his breathing evened out just a little, you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

“I’m here,” you murmured.

You don’t have to go through this alone.” He didn’t say anything, but his grip on you tightened, as if grounding himself in your presence.

Then an idea struck you. Something small, but something that might help. You shifted, gently pulling away. “Wait here,” you whispered, before slipping out of the room. Jett didn’t protest, just sat there, eyes downcast, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. When you returned, his eyes flickered up in confusion as you set a plate down in front of him. New Zealand’s favorite chocolate covered fish-shaped strawberry marshmallow with coffee.

You had noticed he hadn’t eaten all day, too lost in his grief. For a moment, he just stared. His hand hovered over the plate before he finally picked up a piece, taking a small bite. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, to your relief, he took another bite. And another. He ate in silence, but something in his posture softened—just a little.

When he finished, he cradled the coffee mug in his hands, staring into the dark liquid as if lost in thought.

“You should eat,” you said softly.

“I think New Zealand would want you to.” You pl;ace your hand on his shoulder.

Jett let out a quiet breath, something between a chuckle and a sigh. “Yeah, he’d probably yell at me for skipping meals.” he murmured, voice hoarse but steadier than before. He lifted the mug to his lips, taking a slow sip before finally looking at you.

His smile was small, barely there, but it was real this time. “Thanks, love.”

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Tino Väinämöinen - Finland

He avoids their favorite places, too afraid of the memories waiting for him there. The park where they used to sit in the snow, the café Sweden always insisted on paying for, the small lake cabin where they spent summers. Stepping into those spaces alone feels like stepping into a world where Sweden never existed.

He still sets the table for two, only to stop mid-motion, staring at the empty chair across from him. His fingers tighten around the plate before he pulls it away, setting it back in the cupboard. It never gets easier because in his heart, Sweden should still be there.

Without a word, you place a warm cup of coffee in front of him, just the way he likes it. He stares at it for a moment before taking a small, grateful sip.

When nightmares wake him in the dead of night, you don’t question—just hold him until he settles. Your fingers stroke through his hair, your voice would be low and soothing. “I’ve got you."

On Sweden’s birthday, the two of you would light a candle together, a quiet tribute to the man he loved. Tino’s hands shake as he strikes the match, but he doesn’t pull away. The candle flickers, and for a moment, it feels like Sweden is still here

You would pull out an old photo album, flipping through the pages with him, letting nostalgia replace the pain for a while. Tino chuckles at the candid shots, remembering how much Sweden hated photos.

“He always looked so serious,” he murmurs, but this time, there’s warmth in his voice.

You start bringing him coffee every morning, placing the warm mug in his hands without a word. At first, he barely notices, but eventually, he starts looking forward to it. Small gestures make the loneliness feel a little less crushing.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Tino sat at the kitchen table, fingers tracing the rim of his untouched coffee cup. The seat across from him was empty, ithad been for months now but he still found himself glancing at it, half-expecting Sweden to be there.

Old habits died hard, and grief, it seemed, refused to let him go. He still reached for his phone sometimes, fingers hovering over the screen, wanting to type a message. Just something simple, something normal, "Are you home yet?" before reality struck again.

The words never made it past his fingertips. He simply sighed, setting the phone aside, feeling the weight of silence press down on him once more. You had noticed it all. The untouched meals, the tired smiles, the way he avoided the places they once visited together. He never spoke of it, never let his voice crack, but you saw the pain in his eyes.

That evening, you placed a familiar dish in front of him, Sweden’s favorite meal. A crisp bread with blood pudding and salmon cured in salt, sugar, and dill. The one Berwald used to make without thinking. He stared at it for a long moment, the scent stirring something deep inside him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and took a bite. It tasted just like it used to. His vision blurred, but he kept eating.

After dinner, they sat together on the couch, flipping through old photographs. Tino chuckled softly at one—Sweden, looking stern as ever, caught mid-blink.

"He hated taking pictures," he said, a real smile ghosting his lips.

You laughed with him, pressing yourshoulder against his. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

That night, when the nightmares came and Sweden’s voice fading, his presence slipping away. Tino woke with a strangled breath. Before panic could swallow him whole, arms wrapped around him, grounding him in warmth.

"I’m here," You whispered, fingers threading through his hair, steady and safe.

"I’m right here." Tino clenched his fists into their shirt, nodding against their shoulder.

Grief didn’t disappear overnight. The ache of loss never truly left. But as Tino stood by the window the next morning, coffee in hand, watching the candle flicker in quiet remembrance, he realized something. Sweden was gone, but love wasn’t. And with time, with patience, with the steady presence at his side, he could learn to carry both.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Text

Love and Loss at Avenue (1P Indonesia x Reader)

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A/N: I AM SO SORRY ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS SCENARIO! I actually remembered it right now after many headcanons requests and ended up forgetting your ask. I hope you like the result for this one shot.

Warning: OOC Characters, Profanities, Angst, and No Comfort.

Gender: Neutral

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

FLASHBACK OF 70 YEARS AGO

The mirror was still foggy from the shower, blurring your reflection. You ran a hand through your damp hair, the fresh scent of soap still clinging to your skin. The black sweater felt soft and comfortable, while the dark brown tailored pants gave off a sharp, put-together vibe. The plaid beige blazer added a bit of style, making the whole outfit look more complete, and the black ankle boots were the final touch—simple but cool.

Today was the first day of university, and your heart buzzed with a mix of excitement and nerves. You stood by your bedroom mirror, adjusting your hair for the fifth time, hoping to look confident—even if you didn’t feel it. A hundred questions raced through your mind.

'Would I make new friends? Would the classes be hard?' You shook her head sharply, trying to chase away the unease.

You turned to see someone running towards you. He had tan skin, messy black wavy hair, and striking golden eyes. He slipped into the lift just before the doors closed, slightly out of breath. "Thanks," he said with a quick, grateful smile. (Y/N) smiled back, a little surprised by the guy.

Grabbing your bag, you slung it over your shoulder, locked the door behind you, and stepped into the hallway. As you walked toward the lift, the quiet hum of the morning filled the air.

Suddenly, a voice called out, “Wait for me!” It was a guy’s voice, quick and urgent.

There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he asked, "...Are you going to the International Avenue University?" Your eyes widened, your body going rigid as a cold rush swept over you. For a second, it felt like your heart had dropped straight to your stomach. Oh no. Am I getting stalked? Am I in danger? What should I do? (Y/N) questioned herself, a thousand worst-case scenarios racing through her mind.

The guy glanced at (Y/N), and the corner of his lips tugged up when his eyes caught the figure beside him. (Y/N)’s (H/C) hair shimmered under the soft lights, the (H/T) texture catching the glow just right. Their (S/C) skin looked warm and inviting, and the name tag dangling from their/her/his chest swayed gently with every breath.

"Thank you so much for helping me," he said, his voice low but sincere.

"It was my pleasure," (Y/N) replied, offering a small, easy smile.

However, your panic didn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you caught the shift in your expression, his own eyes widening slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just saw the lanyard on your name tag. It says Avenue University, and… well, I go there too," He said quickly, his hands lifted up.

A breath of air escaped from your nose as you let go of the tension she'd been holding, her shoulders easing slightly. (Y/N) glanced at him, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. A comical sweat drop seemed to form at the corner of (Y/N)'s head.

"Ah, sorry for assuming that you wanted to hurt me," (Y/N) said, her voice light but edged with lingering embarrassment.

"It's okay," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"By the way, my name is Wibawa Prayogo, but you can call me Wibawa." He extended his hand, the gesture open and sincere.

"And what’s yours?" He asks.

"My name is (Y/N) (L/N), but you can call me (Y/N)," she replied, slipping her hand into his for handshake.

Wibawa pulled his hand back, his gaze flicking up to the ceiling of the elevator as if searching for the right words. Then, his eyes met yours again.

"So, are you a new student? Because I’ve never seen you before," he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Yeah, I’m a new student, majoring in Psychology. And you are?" You replied with a nod.

"Nice one! I’m in Culinary Arts," he said, his smile bright enough to rival the elevator lights, showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

"Oh, you like to cook?" you asked.

" I do, especially making fried rice or fried egg crepes." He ended the sentence with a wink.

It was surprising how effortlessly friendly Wibawa was, as if talking to (Y/N) was the most natural thing in the world, even though (Y/N) had mostly just been listening. There was an ease in his words, a warmth in the way he carried the conversation without making it feel forced.

"You know, you should check out the canteen near the parking lot next to the football field. There are so many stalls selling food from different countries, and they’re super affordable. You can get a full meal and a drink for like, two to five dollars" he started, his eyes lighting up.

"And you have to try the corner stall. They make the best chocolate thick folded crepes!" He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret.

"Sounds good, maybe next time. We’ll try your favorite food," Y/N) said, a small smile tugging at her/his/their lips.

It felt like she/he/they had only been talking for a few minutes, but when (Y/N) finally took a moment to glance around, you realized that you were already standing in front of Avenue University. (Y/N) had expected the institute to be a simple, ordinary building, maybe sleek glass windows and a few banners with the university logo. However, that expectation shattered the moment they stepped onto the campus grounds.

"And you have to try the corner stall. They make the best chocolate thick folded crepes!" He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret.

"Sounds good, maybe next time. We’ll try your favorite food," Y/N) said, a small smile tugging at her/his/their lips.

"Deal," you shake his hands.

Right in front of her/him/them was a beautiful courtyard surrounded by tall, impressive buildings. In the middle stood a huge fountain with a giant seashell sculpture. Three mermaid statues rose from the shell, their tails curling into the water, almost as if they were about to move. Students were scattered around the area, some sitting near the fountain, chatting and laughing, while others walked past the large white-painted gate that marked the entrance.

It looked like something straight out of a movie—way more magical than (Y/N) had imagined. As they stepped inside the campus, it felt like they had entered a whole new world, one filled with endless possibilities and unfamiliar faces. Wibawa turned to you, his usual grin still in place.

Before (Y/N) could reply, Wibawa suddenly perked up, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Anyway, follow me! I wanna show you the stall that sells the best chocolate thick folded crepe," he said, motioning for (Y/N) to come along. You nodded at him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you followed him through the busy campus.

"Welcome to Avenue Campus! It’s an international university, so you’ll meet all kinds of people here," he said with a casual shrug.

"Wow, it’s bigger than I expected," (Y/N) murmured, taking in the vast open spaces

"Nah, Bridgeton is way bigger than this, but that place is only for rich, bougie-ass kids," Wibawa waved a hand dismissively.

"You’re making it sound like that campus is only for royalty," (Y/N) said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. They don't really support scholarships like this place does. If you don’t have money, good luck getting in," he scoffs.

The sounds of chatter, laughter, and footsteps filled the air as students moved around, some rushing to class while others lounged under the shade of trees. The delicious smell of chocolate and freshly made crepes filled the air, making your stomach grumble slightly. The small stall was tucked into a cozy corner near the canteen, with a simple menu board hanging at the front.

As (Y/N)'s eyes focused on the pan, watching the batter sizzle and crisp into golden perfection, Wibawa found himself staring—not at the crepe, but at the person next to him. His golden-brown eyes traced over the details he hadn’t noticed before. The way your (H/C) hair caught the light, the shape of your nose, the soft hue of your (E/C) eyes, the curve of your lips, and the warmth of their skin tone.

Behind the counter, a friendly-looking vendor was expertly flipping crepes, the rich chocolate filling oozing out slightly as he folded them into perfect layers.

"Hey you boy, long time not see. The usual fried egg crepe or the chocolate thick folded crepe?" The old man asks him.

"The usual Chocolate one with two water bottles. For me and my friend," Wibawa glances at you.

"Certainly sir, it will be ready in 10 minutes," the old began to pour the batter into the pan.

(Y/N) wasn't the kind of beautiful you’d see on magazine covers—not the model type of attractive, he admitted—but there was something about you. Something peculiar, yet oddly comforting. Like a familiar song or the scent of home-cooked meals. He didn’t even realize he was staring until a sudden warmth crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks.

Oh crap.

Clearing his throat, he quickly turned his attention back to the stall, pretending to be deeply invested in the crepe-making process.

Timeskip to 9 Years Later

Time passed, yet the memory still lingered in Wibawa’s mind, as clear as if it had happened just yesterday. It reminded him of when he was still nineteen, standing in that busy campus, caught off guard by a certain person. Now, years later, he walked down the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, his breath forming small clouds in the cool evening air.

His golden-brown eyes scanned his surroundings absentmindedly—until they landed on a familiar figure standing across from him. (H/C) hair color. (S/C) skin tone. (H/T) hair texture. The person kept glancing down at his/her/their wristwatch, seemingly waiting for something—or someone.

As a pair of (E/C) eyes locked onto the approaching figure, you instinctively crossed your arms, tilting your head slightly with a raised brow. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your expression a mix of mild annoyance and impatience.

"Finally, you’re here. I thought you were gonna ditch the date," you said, smacking his arm—not too hard, just enough to make a point.

Wibawa flinched dramatically, rubbing the spot where you hit him even though it didn’t hurt. He let out a nervous chuckle, flashing you an apologetic grin.

"A-ah! Sorry, I overslept, and my alarm didn’t ring. I swear, babe, I told you I was on the way in the chat!"

"Mhm, sure. Classic excuse." You narrowed your eyes at him, rolling your eyes.

"I’m telling the truth!" he insisted, laughing as he held up his hands in surrender.

Wibawa flinched dramatically, rubbing the spot where you hit him even though it didn’t hurt. He let out a nervous chuckle, flashing you an apologetic grin.

"A-ah! Sorry, I overslept, and my alarm didn’t ring. I swear, babe, I told you I was on the way in the chat!"

"Mhm, sure. Classic excuse." You narrowed your eyes at him, rolling your eyes.

"I’m telling the truth!" he insisted, laughing as he held up his hands in surrender.

You wanted to stay mad at him. Really, you did. He always did this—being late and texting "on the way" when, in reality, he had just woken up and was barely getting dressed. It was frustrating, and you had half a mind to scold him for it. But then he looked at you with those big, starry eyes, cheeks puffed out like a guilty puppy, and before you knew it, he had wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug.

Wibawa flinched dramatically, rubbing the spot where you hit him even though it didn’t hurt. He let out a nervous chuckle, flashing you an apologetic grin.

"A-ah! Sorry, I overslept, and my alarm didn’t ring. I swear, babe, I told you I was on the way in the chat!"

"Mhm, sure. Classic excuse." You narrowed your eyes at him, rolling your eyes.

"I’m telling the truth!" he insisted, laughing as he held up his hands in surrender.

"Come on, let me make it up to you. My treat, anything you want," He places his arms on your shoulder.

As the two of you walked away from the bus stop and began walking, Wibawa’s gaze drifted to your outfit. He hadn’t really paid attention earlier, but now that he saw it properly, he had to admit—it suited you really well.

Ugh. How were you supposed to stay angry when he was this cute?

"Fine, but you are buying me Secang wood and Cinnamon tea after we finish sightseeing at the Dinoland Arizona Museum," you huffed, still trying to sound annoyed.

"I promise, I'll buy you the tea," Wibawa grinned, pulling you closer as he tightened his arms around you.

A button-down white shirt, tailored black trousers, a deep brown trench coat, black gloves, and sleek black boots—it was casual yet sophisticated, effortlessly stylish while still practical for the cool weather. And, damn, it suited you so well. The colors, the fit—everything just worked, and he had to admit, it looked really good on you.

Wibawa’s hand gently held yours, his warmth seeping through the fabric of your gloves as the two of you walked toward the museum entrance. The moment felt casual yet comforting, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You look good," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Hm? What was that?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as you glanced at him.

"N-Nothing, I said I already bought the tickets for us from the official site," He blurted out, his eyes widened slightly before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

At the counter, Wibawa pulled out his phone and held up the digital ticket, letting the scanner read the barcode. With a small beep of approval, the security guard nodded and gestured for the two of you to go inside.

Stepping in, you were immediately struck by the sheer size of the museum. The walls were decorated with massive illustrations of dinosaurs, each one paired with a real fossil displayed securely behind glass. It was a surreal mix of art and history, bringing prehistoric giants to life in a way neither of you had seen before.

"Look! Babe! That's a T-Rex skeleton! It's huge!" you gasped, pointing excitedly.

"Woahhh, I never knew T-Rexes were this big!" His eyes followed your gaze, and his mouth fell open slightly.

An idea suddenly popped into Wibawa’s head, and before you could ask what he was thinking, he was already jogging up to the security guard standing near the T-Rex skeleton.

"Sir, sorry to ask. "But could you please take a picture of me and my partner? I want to keep this as a memory." Wibawa said with his usual charming grin.

The security guard glanced between the two of you before nodding. "Ah, sure, kid. But please don’t cross the barrier. Stay behind it for the photo."

"Got it, sir!" Wibawa said enthusiastically, quickly handing over his phone before hurrying back to your side.

70 Years Later

You barely had time to react before he was already standing next to you, a bright, excited smile on his face.

"Alright, ready?" the security guard said, holding up the phone.

Wibawa leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he grinned at the camera.

"3… 2… 1…"

Click! The camera flashed, capturing the moment before the photo was saved on his phone—forever sealing this memory between the two of you.

Years had passed, but the memory remained.

Wibawa's fingers traced the edge of the wooden frame, his gaze locked onto the photograph of you and him at the dinosaur museum. It had been taken so long ago, yet the moment felt like yesterday—your excited smile, the way his arm barely brushed against yours, the warmth that lingered even through the cold air of the exhibit.

Now, he stood alone, dressed in a black button-up shirt and trousers, his glasses slightly fogged from the chilly breeze. His friends had warned him about this—never fall in love with a mortal. And yet, he had never listened. His eyes dropped to the gravestone before him, the engraved letters cutting through his heart like a knife.

In his trembling hands, he held a bouquet of crimson roses, red carnations, and yarrow—flowers of love, longing, and sorrow. He knelt slowly, placing them gently against the stone, his fingers lingering over the cold surface.

"I'll always remember you, babe," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Be happy up there, okay? And I'm… so sorry. For everything. The fights, the screams, my stupid, childish antics… I was never the perfect boyfriend. But one thing I know for sure… we were always there for each other."

Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the gravestone, letting his forehead rest against it for a moment.

The wind whispered through the cemetery, as if carrying your voice back to him. But no matter how much he wished for it… you were gone.

(Y/N) (L/N)

Lied here.

Died peacefully in her sleep.

4 notes · View notes

capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

I wanna see Spending Rainy Days Together with Daichi, Sugawara, Kita and then Osamu! (Part 2)

Daichi Sawamura, Sugawara Koushi, Kita Shinsuke and Osamu Miya Spending Rainy Days with S/O

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Gender: Neutral Warning: Mention of food.

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DAICHI SAWAMURA - KARASUNO CAPTAIN

Daichi brews warm coffee as rain taps the window, creating a calm atmosphere. You sit together, sipping drinks and enjoying the peacefulness of the moment (indoor).

You both try making simple crafts, laughing when the results are messier than expected. Daichi focuses hard, his tongue poking out in concentration. Even if the crafts turn out clumsy, he treasures them as memories (indoor).

The competitive side of Daichi comes out during board games, but he’s a gracious loser. He teases you about your strategies, but always smiles when you win (indoor).

At outside, You walk under one umbrella, shoulders brushing, talking about anything and everything. Occasionally, he tilts it your way when the wind shifts, protecting you from stray raindrops (outdoor).

The two of you would stop by a small food stall, drawn by the delicious smell. He buys warm snacks and insists on feeding you the first bite (outdoor).

Rainy nights make Daichi a little more thoughtful than usual. He shares stories from his childhood, his dreams, and even his insecurities. Holding your hand, he encourages you to open up too, promising he’ll always listen (outdoor).

After a chilly day, he suggests a warm shower to shake off the cold. If comfortable, he gently washes your hair, his touch careful and soothing. Afterward, he hands you a towel and laughs when your hair sticks up. (After outside)

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The rain came down hard, a steady droplets tapping against the windows, blurring the view of the outside world. The plan to visit temple was thrown away because of the rain, leaving Daichi and (Y/N) stranded indoors. (Y/N) could not help but sigh as she/he/they see the rain still pouring down. "Looks like it's just us and the rain today," (Y/N) murmur. "It's okay (Y/N), at least we're not trapped in bus stop," Daichi closes the blinds.

Daichi moved to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as his eyes focus on the coffee beans inside the bag, selecting (Y/N)'s favorite, while (Y/N) took a seat at the counter, watching him with her/his/their (E/C) eyes. The familiar, rich aroma of brewing coffee began to fill the space, mingling with the scent of rain-soaked earth outside. Daichi worked in comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up at the machine until the button changes into green color. "I'm sure rainy days aren't so bad. We can have indoor date," he said.

Settling onto the couch with their drinks in hand, they sipped in comfortable silence, listening to the rain pattering against the glass. As Daichi took another sip, a thought crossed his mind, and he glanced at (Y/N) with a small yet bright glint in his eyes. "Hey, what if we make a scrapbook together?" he suggested, setting his mug down with a soft thud. "We have so many pictures from our trips and random moments. Might as well do something creative while we’re stuck inside," he shrugs.

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up at the idea, the thought of capturing their memories together sounds exciting rather than just spending money on pricey cakes or anything else they could have planned in the temple feeding the deer only a few seconds and buying those $1.50 or $3.50 cookies for deer and it would be gone in a sec. "That actually sounds really fun!" she/he/they agreed, setting your drink aside and eagerly standing up.

Daichi grinned at their enthusiasm before heading over to grab an old notebook, scissors, tape, and a box filled with printed photos they had collected over time. They spread everything out on the coffee table, the flickering lamp casting warm shadows over their work area. Flipping through the pictures, (Y/N) laughed as they held up a particularly goofy one of Daichi mid-sneeze. "I think that one should be put aw-" Daichi cheeks flushes in red. "We have to put this in," (Y/N) cuts him off, snickering. "Absolutely not," Daichi groaned, attempting to snatch the picture away

Nevertheless, (Y/N) was faster, quickly taping it onto the first page with a victorious grin and Daichi sighs, not knowing if he should be amused or annoyed with (Y/N) antics. They continued sorting through their memories, sticking Polaroids onto the pages, scribbling little notes beside each one. "Remember this?" Daichi murmured, pointing at a photo of them under a canopy of cherry blossom trees.

(Y/N) smiled softly, tracing the edges of the picture before writing underneath it: A day that felt like a dream. It was a picture when their share the first kiss, where their lips touched together. Their hands held together with a glove as they were surrounded by the falling pink leaves. "It was our first kiss and when you asked me out,"(Y/N) muttered but loud enough for him. "Yeah....and I will always cherish this photo forever," Daichi sticks the picture, next to the one where he had a goofy sneeze picture.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

SUGAWARA KOUSHI - KARASUNO VICE CAPTAIN

Sugawara would set up a blanket fort with fairy lights to make the room extra cozy. He picks classic romance and comedy films but secretly enjoys the cheesy ones the most. Halfway through, he sneaks an arm around you, pulling you closer (indoor).

If you're not in a mood to watch movie, he grabs a couple of books, offering you one as he nestles beside you under a blanket. Occasionally, he reads out loud, his voice gentle and soothing (indoor).

The kitchen fills with the sweet scent of cookies as you and Suga experiment with different flavors. He insists on decorating them together but ends up eating half of the icing. When you scold him, he just grins, placing a tiny frosting dot on your nose (indoor).

He puts on a soft playlist, letting the music mix with the sound of the rain. You sway together slowly, lost in the melody and each other’s arms. His forehead rests gently against yours (indoor).

He offers to share his umbrella, holding it carefully to shield you from the rain. Your hands brush as you walk, his fingers eventually finding yours. "I like rainy days better when you're here," he murmurs (outdoor).

If you don't like indoor date. he two of you find a small, hidden café, sipping on warm drinks by the window. Suga watches the raindrops race down the glass, making small bets on which one will win (outdoor)

Or the two of you ducking the rain into a cozy bookstore, you both browse the shelves, occasionally reading funny excerpts. He picks out a book he thinks you’ll love and insists on buying it for you. "Now, every time you read it, you’ll think of me," he smirks (outdoor).

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The rain poured relentlessly, tapping against the windows like an eager guest refused entry. (Y/N) sighed, resting their chin on the palm of their hand as they stared at the gloomy sky. The day was supposed to be spent on a cafe date or those Ghibli museum. However, the weather had other plans and it doesn't stop a certain guy with grey hair.

Behind (Y/N), Sugawara’s footsteps echoed in the kitchen, his light humming filling the quiet room. He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a spark in his eyes. "Well," he said, his grin as bright as the sun. "If we can’t admire art, how about we create something instead?" He suggested.

Before (Y/N) could respond, Suga was already rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, pulling out bags of flour, cocoa, and sugar with a kind of excitement that made it impossible not to smile. "Baking," he declared, holding up the cocoa powder like a trophy. "Soft chocolate cookies… and maybe some red velvet ones too?" His enthusiasm was contagious.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

The kitchen soon filled with laughter and the comforting aroma of melting chocolate and warm sugar. Suga worked with focused energy, carefully measuring ingredients and sneaking small, playful glances at (Y/N). Whenever their fingers brushed while reaching for the same bowl, he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

As he was whisking the batter, his tongue peeking out in concentration, while (Y/N) shaped the dough. The two of you working in perfect rhythm. It was messy, with a dusting of flour on the counter and smudges of cocoa on both of your cheeks but as the cookies baked in the oven, (Y/N) noticed something odd. The icing you had prepared to decorate the cookies was disappearing, far faster than it should have.

Narrowing your eyes, you turned to find Sugawara, lips suspiciously glossy with chocolate cream. He froze, mid-step, eyes wide like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Suga, have you been eating the icing?" (Y/N) scolded, crossing your arms. "No....Okay fine, it was me," he admits, dipping his finger into the remaining frosting and tapped a tiny dot onto (Y/N)'s nose.

The unexpected action made (Y/N) blink in surprise before laughter bubbled from your lips. "You’re impossible," (Y/N) sighed, though your giggles betrayed the mock frustration. Reaching for the vanilla cream, you retaliated, smearing a dab on Sugawara’s cheek. He gasped dramatically, clutching his heart like he’d been wounded, only for the two of you both to burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

KITA SHINSUKE - INARIZAKI CAPTAIN

On a slow rainy day, the two of you would curl up on the couch, draped under thick blanket. Each of you is lost in your own book, but every now and then, one of you reads a beautiful line out loud, sharing the romantic lines from the book (indoor).

Kita invites you to help tend his indoor plants, carefully re-potting and trimming leaves. His hands are steady and sure, treating every plant like a treasure. As he explains their care routine , you would listen to him and it was surprisingly giving so much comfort (indoor).

Sometimes, he surprises you by pulling out crafting supplies—paper, pens, and little trinkets. "It doesn’t have to be perfect and it can be just meaningful," he says. Together, you spend the afternoon making simple handmade cards (indoor).

Kita enjoys moments of stillness. He plays on a soft music with his guitar, the gentle strumming of guitar blending with the steady fall of the rain. You rest against his shoulder, the calmness of the moment settling over you (indoor).

Outdoor dates, you and him would find shelter in a small, local flower shop. Kita quietly examines each plant, running his fingers over soft petals, his expression thoughtful (outdoor).

You wander through an open-air market, umbrellas shielding you from the downpour. The air smells of wet earth and warm street food, and Kita buys roasted sweet potatoes, handing one to you with a quiet smile (outdoor).

He guides you to a small, local shrine. The rain adds a serenity to the place, and you watch him as he steps forward, bowing his head in quiet prayer with you. Where there are still a time, the two of you would feed the nearest deer with the biscuits for the deer (outdoor).

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The rain started falling lightly just as you stepped outside. It wasn’t heavy, just a soft drizzle that made the air smell fresh and earthy. Both you and Kita had worn raincoats, but, of course, he still carried an umbrella—always prepared, just in case. The soft patter of rain on the umbrella and the ground became a calm background sound as you walked together, enjoying the quiet moment even with the rain.

Soon, you came across a small flower shop tucked between two buildings. The door was open, letting out the sweet scent of flowers. Curious, you both stepped inside, escaping the drizzle. Kita walked slowly, his eyes scanning the plants as he ran his fingers gently over the petals. He moved carefully, like he appreciated every little detail.

His gaze settled on a small pot of peace lilies, their white petals delicate and pure, standing tall against the dark green leaves. Something about them reminded him of you; calm, gentle, and quietly strong. He stepped toward the counter, holding the pot carefully as if it were something precious. The woman behind the register offered a warm smile, her hands ready to wrap the plant. "I’d like to buy this," Kita said softly, his eyes flicking to you for a moment before returning to the cashier. The woman’s smile grew, and she nodded. "That’ll be 3,000 yen," she replied.

Kita didn’t hesitate, reaching into his wallet. As he paid, there was a softness in his eyes, to him, it wasn’t just a plant. It was a small, thoughtful way to show how much you meant to him. He turned to you after, holding the plant out. “It reminded me of you,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You took the plant carefully, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it meant something special. After leaving the shop, you both wandered through the local market. The rain hadn’t stopped, but it didn’t seem to bother either of you. The smell of roasted sweet potatoes and grilled snacks filled the air, and Kita’s sharp eyes landed on a food stall. Without needing to ask, he walked over and bought a freshly roasted sweet potato. "Good afternoon, sir. How much is the sweet potato for one?" He asks the seller. "¥250 for one," The seller said. "I would like to buy two, for me and my girlfriend/boyfriend," he hands out a few cash and coins. "Thank you, sir. For buying our sweet potato," the seller smiles.

The sweet potatoes were steaming and smelled amazing. Kita handed one of them, before leading you to a nearby park bench, sheltered from the rain. Sitting together, you took a bite, the warmth of the sweet potato comforting against the cool air. It tasted sweet and soft, and for a moment, the cold didn’t seem to matter.

You glanced at Kita, who ate quietly, his expression calm but content. He had thought of everything—making sure the day still felt special even with the rain. “Thank you for the date, Kita-san,” you said softly. Even though the weather hadn’t been perfect, he had made it feel like it was

He hadn’t canceled, hadn’t made excuses. Instead, he turned the rainy day into something warm and simple. Kita looked at you, his soft smile still there. “It was no problem,” he said gently. And maybe, for him, it really wasn’t. It wasn’t about where you were or what you did but it was about being together, making even a rainy day feel calm, sweet, and unforgettable.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

OSAMU MIYA - INARIZAKI WING SPIKER

He gets adventurous in the kitchen, suggesting you try baking something together. When the batter ends up more on the counter than in the bowl, he just laughs. "Cooking's messy sometimes....but it’s more fun that way," he shrugs (indoor).

Osamu suggests making homemade rice balls, guiding you with patience as you shape them. He chuckles when your first attempt looks less than perfect. "It's okay, it's still looks good," he helps fixing it (indoor).

Osamu lays out a soft blanket, arranging simple snacks and drinks. The rain becomes background music as you both enjoy your little picnic. "Not bad for a rainy day, huh?" he murmurs, brushing his fingers against yours (indoor).

You curl up on the couch, binge-watching cooking shows and critiquing every dish like pros. Osamu occasionally jots down ideas, inspired by the fancy plating. "Next date, I'll make us something better," he promises with a smirk (indoor).

When cravings hit, he insists on running to the store, dragging you along. The streets are quiet, the rain light as you rush under an umbrella. "We’re so dumb," you laugh, but he just grins, holding up a pack of instant curry (outdoor).

When the rain gets heavier, so you both duck into a tiny ramen shop, the air filled with the scent of broth and spices. Osamu orders for you, knowing exactly what you like, then watches as you take the first sip. "Good, right?" he grins, eyes twinkling as he slurps his own bowl (outdoor).

Even with the drizzle, Osamu insists on hitting up food stalls, saying the rain makes hot street food taste better. You both huddle under the umbrella, sharing warm skewers and onigiri. When you laugh about the mess. He grins and wipes your cheek with his thumb, teasing, "Can’t take ya anywhere." (Outdoor)

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The afternoon had started warm, with soft golden light filtering through the city streets. You and Osamu strolled side by side, hands brushing occasionally, lost in easy conversation. It wasn’t meant to be anything grand, just a simple day together, walking, laughing, enjoying the city. But the weather had its own plans.

Dark clouds crept across the sky like shadows, and before either of you could react. Rain came in sheets, drenching the streets and soaking you both within seconds. You gasped, laughter bubbling up as Osamu grabbed your hand. "Come on, this way!" he said, half-laughing, half-shouting over the downpour.

His fingers were warm as he tugs you along. The two of you darted through the rain. Shoes splashed through puddles, clothes clung damp against skin, but there was nothing to do but run and find shelter. Turning a sharp corner, you spotted a small ramen stall tucked beneath an awning, its warm lights glowing like a beacon through the storm. Without a word, you both sprinted toward it, sliding into the safety of the overhang.

The aroma hit instantly: rich, savory broth along with the smell of sizzling pork. The warmth of the stall seeped into your chilled skin as you caught your breath, leaning against Osamu’s shoulder. The old man behind the counter, chuckled softly at the sight of you both. "Caught in the rain, huh?" he said, voice raspy but welcoming. You and Osamu shared a sheepish glance, nodding. The old man’s smile deepened, "Well, there’s no better cure than hot ramen. Sit. I’ll make you my special tonkotsu, with extra chashu pork."

You didn’t hesitate. Slipping onto the small wooden bench, you shivered as Osamu shook off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders with a simple, "Don’t catch a cold." You quietly smile, warmed more by the gesture than the jacket itself. A moment later, the old man set two steaming bowls before you, the broth rich and milky, slices of tender pork floating on top. The scent was intoxicating, a comforting blend of warmth and spice that made your stomach growl.

Osamu’s eyes lit up as he took his chopsticks in hand. "Now this, this is the real deal," he said, leaning forward. The warmth of the broth melting through the chill of the rain. The world outside faded, softened by the mist and the shelter of the awning.

Both you and Osamu huddled close, shoulders pressed together, the shared umbrella now resting beside you, forgotten. The old man poured hot tea into tiny cups, setting them on the counter. Osamu’s hand brushed against yours as you reached for the cup, his touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. He glanced at you, that familiar, half-crooked grin on his face. "Rain date ain’t so bad, as long as I’ve got ya," he murmured.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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capricorn-writes1 · 3 months ago

Note

Welcome back! You’ve been missed! Hope you’re also happy to be here!

I am so sorry Anon for leaving a long time 😭😭😭😭 it has been a hard time for me to online when I have to find a job and depression as well as going to the hospital for my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. But now i finally have a job in Freelance and as a teacher and editor.

Also, I just graduated in July 2024 and I was so happy because My Thesis got A+ 🎉🎉🎉🎉 and I can finally pass my TOEFL in score above 500 (I was an english literature student. In here, if you are in Literature major, your TOEFL have to be above 500, especially for job). I also try to internship 6 months as teacher assistant until I have enough money to move out.

So.....

I'M BACKKKKKK

#erina talks #erina's rant #erina speaks #apology #sorry yall #important #author note

0 notes

capricorn-writes1 · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! you can ignore this question if you are really busy. Can I get headcannons of Akaashi, Bokuto, Kenma, Yaku and then Levvie by surprising them with pets? The second part for Kuroo, Suna, Oikawa, Semi and then Iwaizumi.

Suprising Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou, Kenma Kozume, Yaku Morisuke, and Lev Haiba with Pet

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Too fluffy

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Akaashi Keiji: The Setter of Fukurodani

When his S/O surprises him with a tiny kitten, Akaashi is initially taken aback. He blinks a few times, processing the unexpected gift. Despite his surprise, his composed nature takes over, and he gently accepts the kitten, holding it with soft hands and a warm, almost shy smile.

Though he doesn’t show overly expressive emotions, Akaashi feels a deep warmth in his chest. He softly thanks his S/O, his tone filled with genuine appreciation. Internally, he feels honored to be entrusted with caring for something so small and vulnerable.

Akaashi worries slightly about whether he’ll be a good caretaker. Thoughts about feeding, grooming, and ensuring the kitten's safety swirl through his mind. But he decides that with careful attention and effort, he will give the kitten the best home possible.

Grooming becomes a peaceful ritual. Akaashi uses soft brushes, ensuring the kitten feels comforted during every stroke. He whispers soothing words, creating a calm and trusting atmosphere that helps the kitten relax.

Responsible and diligent, Akaashi schedules regular vet appointments and keeps track of vaccinations. He asks thoughtful questions, wanting to ensure that he's providing the best environment for his kitten.

One of Akaashi’s favorite moments is reading with the kitten curled up beside him. He’ll pause occasionally to stroke its soft fur, the quiet purring adding a peaceful ambiance to his reading sessions.

Akaashi loves updating his S/O with adorable pictures and small stories about the kitten’s antics. Whether it's the kitten’s first climb onto the couch or its fascination with a crumpled paper ball.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The city buzzed with excitement on Valentine's Day, filled with the scent of chocolates and roses. (Y/N) had been eagerly anticipating this day, her heart thrumming with delight as she stepped into the cozy pet store she had visited just the day before. The soft mews of tiny kittens filled the space, their tiny paws padding across the enclosure, but their/her/his eyes were drawn to one in particular—a small Persian kitten with black and white fur, curled up like a delicate ball of fluff. She had no doubt that Akaashi would love her.

He spent long hours working from home, immersed in editing shonen comics and novels for his hybrid publishing office, often leaving him alone for most of the day. The idea of him having a small companion to keep him company felt perfect.

"Excuse me ma'am. I would like to get the Persian Kitten that I booked yesterday and i want to give the kitten to my boyfriend," (Y/N) said.

"Alright, please just sign this paper and we will briefly give the kitten to you," The cashier hands the paper.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Later in the evening, (Y/N) arrived at his apartment, excitement bubbling in their/her/his chest as (Y/N) cradled e tiny kitten in a soft pink blanket. Akaashi, dressed in his usual comfortable sweater, opened the door with a curious tilt of his head.

"Hey sweetheart, what are you holding?" He asks.

"I have a surprise for you this valentine and I hope you take care of our new daughter," (Y/N) said

"Daughter?" Akaashi raises his eyebrows in confusion

There was a brief moment of confusion, then realization, and finally, gratitude that softened his features as (Y/N) gently places the soft pink blanket in his arms.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," she said, grinning as she had carefully placed the kitten in his hands.

“She’s… really small,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

The moment the kitten blinked up at him with round, innocent eyes, Akaashi felt an unfamiliar warmth bloom in his chest. The softest of smiles tugged at his lips as he gently stroked the kitten’s fur as the kitten let out a tiny mew, and his expression softened even more.

“You got her for me?” (Y/N) nodded, pleased to see the quiet joy in his face.

“I thought you might like a little company while you work,” she said, watching as he carefully held the kitten against his chest.

Akaashi took a moment to think before speaking again, his fingers gently scratching beneath the kitten’s chin.

“Hime...I will call her Hime-chan," he finally said. It was fitting, with her delicate features and fluffy fur, the kitten did look like a tiny princess.

"It suits her,” she agreed, watching as Akaashi let the kitten climb onto his shoulder, her tiny paws pressing into the fabric of his sweater.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Bokuto Koutarou: The captain of Fukurodani

Hoooo boy.......The moment Bokuto sees the puppy, his eyes go wide, and he lets out a joyful, "No way!! Is this for me?!" before scooping the puppy up in his strong arms, spinning around with excitement.

Bokuto gets so emotional that his eyes glisten with unshed tears. The idea that his S/O thought of him and gave him such an adorable companion makes his chest feel warm and full. "This is the best gift ever," he murmurs, cradling the puppy close like a precious treasure.

The moment the puppy snuggles into Bokuto's arms, it's game over. He’s already head over heels, softly whispering, "You're my little buddy now," while gently stroking its fur. Bokuto instantly pictures their future together—long walks, cuddles, and endless play.

Playtime is intense with Bokuto, who’s just as energetic as the puppy. He gets on all fours, barking back, and pretending to be "attacked," laughing as the puppy pounces on him.

The puppy becomes his unofficial workout partner, running alongside him during morning jogs. When the puppy gets tired, Bokuto doesn’t hesitate to carry him in his arms, laughing, "Aww are you okay? Let's go home then!"

The puppy also becomes Bokuto's personal alarm clock, licking his face until he wakes up. Groaning but smiling, Bokuto stretches and says, "Okay, okay, I'm up! Ready for another day of adventure?" Then it’s off for their morning walk.

Bokuto fills his phone with hundreds of his puppy photos—the little doggy sleeping, eating, or even just blinking. He creates an Instagram account dedicated to his pup, captioning every post with, "World’s Cutest Pup! #ProudDad."

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Bokuto’s birthday had always been a loud and lively affair—teammates shouting over each other, laughter echoing through the air, and cake smeared across his face before he could even take a bite. But this year, (Y/N) had something different planned. Something quieter, yet infinitely more meaningful. Yesterday, you had visited the adoption center, your heart racing with anticipation as you scanned the small enclosures.

Rows of eager, hopeful eyes stared back at them, tiny tails wagging, soft whimpers filling the room. And then, in one corner, (Y/N) saw him, a tiny black Labrador Retriever, ears too big for his head, bouncing excitedly with every step. The old man who ran the shelter chuckled as he approached.

"That one's got energy to match the sun. You sure you're ready for him?" The old man asks

"Of course, me and my boyfriend going to take care of him," (Y/N) said.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Now, standing in front of Bokuto’s door, the puppy tucked safely in the large box, excitement bubbled in their/her/his chest. They had barely knocked when the door flung open, revealing a still-bedheaded Bokuto, eyes groggy but instantly widening at the sight before him. For a second, there was silence, ust the puppy blinking up at him, tiny tail wagging, before letting out a high-pitched bark. Bokuto let out a gasp, hands flying to his face as his entire body jolted awake.

"N-NO WAY! I-IS THIS FOR ME?" he yelled, practically vibrating with excitement.

Without hesitation, he scooped the puppy up, holding it close like the most precious thing in the world.

"YOU GOT ME A PUPPY?!" His voice cracked with joy, and S/O couldn’t help but laugh.

"Yeah babe. Happy birthday, I know that you always wanted a puppy but you weren't allowed with your mom before but since now we live together. We can finally adopt a fur baby son," (Y/N) said.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much babe!" Bokuto peppers kisses all over the puppy and your face.

Bokuto immediately pulled the puppy away just enough to meet its round, curious eyes. The pup yipped again, wiggling happily in his grasp.

"You talk a lot, huh? I love that!" he grinned, pressing their noses together.

"Gotta name you something easy, something that fits..." His brows furrowed in thought before he suddenly gasped.

"Roro! Because you bark a lot! And it’s easy to remember!" He chuckles.

"Roro, right?! It’s perfect, right?!" He looked at S/O with the brightest expression, as if seeking approval

Roro responded before (Y/N) could, yapping excitedly as if agreeing with his new dad. Bokuto beamed, pulling the puppy against his chest.

"See? He likes it! We’re already best buddies!" He was absolutely gone, completely smitten with his new companion.

(Y/N) eyes stare at the beaming man, her/his/their heart full, knowing you had given him something special, something that went beyond words or material gifts.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Kenma Kozume: The Setter of Nekoma

When his S/O presents the kitten, Kenma’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. He doesn’t speak at first, just blinks slowly, taking in the small bundle of fur from your hand. "Is… this for me?" he asks quietly, his voice low but tinged with wonder.

At first, he feels unsure, overwhelmed by the responsibility. But when the kitten curls against his chest and lets out a tiny purr, something in his heart softens. He cradles it gently, whispering, "You're really small…" as if afraid his voice might scare it.

Kenma isn’t one for dramatic displays, but his gratitude is deep and genuine. He leans his forehead gently against his S/O’s shoulder, murmuring, "Thank you." It’s soft, but it holds the weight of his feelings.

He doesn’t go overboard with toys, but he makes sure to have the essentials: a soft mouse toy, a ball of yarn, and a little cat tree. Quietly, he’ll tug the toy along the floor, watching the kitten chase with slow, slanted eyes.

The kitten quickly becomes his silent gaming partner, often snoozing in his lap as he plays. Kenma strokes the kitten absentmindedly while focusing on the screen. It’s comforting—this quiet companionship, where words aren’t needed.

Naps become a shared activity. Kenma curls on the couch with the kitten pressed against his side, their soft breathing syncing. Sometimes, when the world feels too heavy, Kenma finds himself whispering thoughts to the kitten. "You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with people," he mutters

The three of you often share quiet nights, curled on the couch under a soft blanket. The kitten purrs contentedly, Kenma rests his head on your shoulder and the three of you cuddled together.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the quiet apartment. Kenma sat curled up on the couch, his phone resting loosely in his hands, the hum of a paused game lingering in the air. Today was his birthday, though he had never been one for grand celebrations. He preferred quiet moments, soft memories, and gentle surprises. An you had planned exactly that.

Just yesterday, (Y/N) had visited the adoption center to book an adoption with one of the kittens in there and today finally she/he/they can get a kitten for Kenma. Tiny faces, soft meows, curious eyes peeking from warm blankets. It was almost impossible to choose, each kitten vying for a place in your heart. But then, there she was—a small, tri-colored munchkin kitten with oversized eyes and a timid gaze. Her tiny legs made her waddle slightly, her fur a mix of soft white, black, and orange.

The old woman at the center had smiled warmly as she placed the kitten inside the carrier that you held.

She’s shy but sweet," she said, and that was all it took. That little spark of shyness reminded them of Kenma. Quiet, gentle, yet full of depth.

Now, the moment had arrived after she rides her small car into their apartment. Kenma shuffled into the room, his hair slightly tousled from gaming for a long time.

"What’s that?” he asked, his voice low, curiosity softening his usual monotone.

(Y/N) lips curved into a smile, heart thrumming with anticipation. She/he/they approached quietly, unzipping the carrier to reveal the tiny kitten nestled inside, blinking up at Kenma with innocent eyes.

For a moment, Kenma just stared. The world around him seemed to still. Then, he crouched down, his hand reaching out slowly, as though afraid the kitten might vanish if he moved too quickly. His fingers brushed through her soft fur, and the kitten let out a hesitant, high-pitched meow. Kenma's eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“She’s… really small. What's her name?" he murmured, voice almost a whisper.

"I haven't named our adopted daughter yet," (Y/N) jokes as Kenma scoffs in amusement.

Kenma’s gaze lingered on the kitten, her small body curled into herself, her soft meows filling the quiet.

"Chobit...her name is Chobit because she's tiny. Like a little doll… but softer," He said.

Kenma worried about accidentally hurting the little kitten as Chobit wiggled a little bit in his hand and trying to climb on him, he would wince a little bit from the pain since her paws surprisingly sharp for a small cat but he tries not to move so much, afraid if she gonna fall. But the kitten was determined, curling into the crook of his arm as he played, her tiny paws kneading against his hoodie as she purred softly. It was distracting, but in a way that made his heart feel lighter.

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❀

Yaku Morisuke: The Libero of Nekoma

When his S/O walks in, cradling a small Ragdoll kitten with soft fur and gentle blue eyes, Yaku’s first reaction is curiosity—until he notices the kitten’s missing leg. Concern flashes in his eyes, but he masks it with a soft, "What happened?"

Kneeling down, he reaches out his hand slowly, letting the kitten sniff his fingers. The moment the kitten leans into his touch, his heart softens completely. "You’re a tough little one, huh?" he murmurs.

Yaku dives deep into researching how to care for a kitten with a missing limb. He wants to be prepared, making notes and looking up ways to help the kitten.

The next day, he moves furniture to make the space safer, removing sharp edges and making sure the kitten won’t accidentally trip. He sets up small ramps near the couch so she can climb up easily.

Yaku sets up cozy spots throughout the apartment, laying down soft blankets so the kitten always has a place to rest comfortably, no matter where she decides to nap.

Instead of wild play, Yaku engages in slow, gentle games. He uses soft feather toys and strings, letting the kitten build her confidence and strength at her own pace.

When Yuki manages to climb onto the bed on her own for the first time, Yaku beams with pride. "Good job, Yuki," he praises, giving her extra cuddles and a small treat.

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The soft glow of the adoption center’s window illuminated the dusky street, casting a warm, golden hue over the small figure curled in the corner of a glass enclosure. (Y/N) paused mid-step as she/he/they headed back to the apartment, drawn by the sight of the kitten, its fur a snowy blend of white and silver, eyes like twin pools of quiet sadness. It was a fragile little thing, huddled close to the glass as if searching for comfort.

Yet, it wasn’t the kitten’s beauty that pulled at (Y/N)’s heart, but the way it seemed to shrink from the world, its tiny body missing a limb, as if the loss had stolen more than just its leg but its trust in kindness. Without a second thought, (Y/N)’s decision was made. That kitten deserved a home, one filled with warmth and love, and they would be the one to give it. Later that evening, (Y/N) returned home, their heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

The kitten nestled quietly in the carrier, its soft eyes blinking sleepily. As they stepped inside, Yaku glanced up from the couch, brows lifting in surprise at the sight of the carrier in (Y/N)’s hands.

“What’s this?” he asked, setting his book aside as curiosity sparkled in his eyes.

He rose, approaching with cautious excitement, peering into the carrier. The moment his gaze met the kitten's soft fur and wide eyes, his lips curled into a soft, warm smile.

"A kitten?" he chuckled lightly, already charmed.

But when (Y/N) gently lifted the kitten from its carrier and placed it onto the soft blanket laid out on the floor, Yaku’s smile faltered. His eyes caught the slight, missing limb, the way the kitten hesitated before stepping forward, wobbling unsteadily. The joy in his face faded into a quiet shadow of sympathy. He crouched down, his hands resting on his knees, and watched the kitten curiously, his heart tightening.

"She… she’s missing a leg," he said softly, his voice edged with sadness.

"What happened to her?" Yaku asks (Y/N).

"An accident, a car ran over one of her back legs.... the person quickly gave the kitten to the vet to be taken care of but sadly the guy said he's not allowed to have pets to he gives the kitten to the adoption center later," (Y/N) explains.

Yaku’s expression shifted. His gaze softened, his heart tugged by a deep sense of gratitude.

"You’ve got a big heart," he said gently, his hand reaching out to brush his fingers against the kitten’s soft fur.

The little one shivered beneath his touch, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she blinked up at him, as though sensing something safe within his presence.

"Thank you… for bringing her home, he smiles softly to you.

Silence settled between them, comfortable and warm, as they watched the kitten explore her new surroundings with hesitant steps. Yaku's fingers lingered at her side, tracing the soft curve of her back, his thoughts turning over.

After a long pause, he whispered, "Yuki....she's beautiful just like a snow with her white fur."

From that moment, Yaku made a silent promise. That Yuki would never feel alone or unwanted again. That her missing limb wouldn’t define her, but her courage would. As Yuki curled closer to his hand, purring softly, Yaku’s chest warmed with an affection deeper than he’d expected. It wasn’t just a kitten that had entered his home, it was a small, brave soul who had already found a place in his heart.

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❀

Lev Haiba: The Middle Blocker of Nekoma

When you walk in with a puppy carrier, Lev’s eyes go wide, and he immediately gasps, "Oh my gosh! Did you just…? Is that a puppy?!" practically bouncing in excitement. The moment the Golden Retriever puppy peeks out with its big, floppy ears and wagging tail, Lev nearly melts on the spot. His heart explodes in excitement, his grin so wide it hurts.

When the puppy turns its head and Lev notices the missing eye, his excitement falters slightly. His heart aches for the little one. "What… what happened to his eye?" he asks gently. After hearing the story, Lev’s protective instincts kick in. He crouches down, gazing into the puppy’s one bright eye. "Don’t worry, buddy. You’ve got me now. I’ll keep you safe."

Lev tries to pick up the puppy but almost stumbles over his own feet. Luckily, his S/O is there to steady him. "Okay, okay, I got this!" he says, laughing nervously. Lev is so tall and clumsy that he constantly bumps into furniture while carrying the puppy. "I swear these tables move on their own," he mutters every time.

Lev enthusiastically prepares the puppy meals, but he often spills kibble everywhere in his excitement. The golden retriver, however, is thrilled with the mess and gobbles it all up happily.

Sometimes, Lev flops onto the couch to cuddle the puppy, but he misjudges his strength and accidentally bounces the puppy a little too hard into his chest. The puppy just licks his chin, forgiving him instantly.

Every time Sunny does something adorable, Lev dramatically gasps, clutches his heart, and exclaims, "He's TOO CUTE. I can’t handle it!" while you just either laughs or sweat-drop, used to his dramatics.

When the puppy masters a new trick or finally navigates around an obstacle, Lev claps and cheers like it’s the greatest achievement ever. Sunny wags his tail, basking in the praise.

Every little sneeze or stumble sends Lev into a mini panic. "Is he okay? Should we go to the vet?!" You had to often needs to calm him down, assuring him that the puppy is just fine. Though clumsy and chaotic, Lev's love for the puppy is pure. It’s in the way he scoops him up when he’s tired, the way he softly whispers "I love you".

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The pet store window was fogged with the warmth of the day, but (Y/N)'s eyes caught a flash of movement through the glass. A small, golden blur pressed eagerly against the enclosure, tiny paws clawing playfully at the surface, his mouth panting in joyful pant, tongue lolling as if the entire world was his to greet.

(Y/N) stepped closer, their heart gave a small, painful squeeze. The puppy was missing one eye. A soft shadow lingered where it should have been, but there was no sadness in him, only endless, glowing happiness. Despite everything, he radiated joy. And in that moment, (Y/N) knew they couldn’t leave him behind.

(Y/N) approached the old man tending the store, their voice steady.

"I want to adopt him," You told the old man, gesturing to the little puppy still pawing excitedly at the glass.

The man hesitated, casting a glance at the energetic creature, his face lined with a quiet kind of understanding. "Most overlook him because of his eyes. You're very nice person for willing to adopt tha bundle of joy," he said gently, between apologetic but also relieved.

Bringing the puppy home felt like carrying a small piece of sunlight. The moment the door clicked open, Lev was already bounding into the room, curiosity lighting up his expression.

"You got a puppy?!" His voice rang with excitement, his tall frame leaning down as he reached for the carrier.

He unlatched the door, and the golden puppy stumbled out, tail wagging so hard it wobbled his entire body.

Lev laughed, a big, bright sound, as he crouched down to greet the new addition.

"Hey, little guy!" he cooed, ruffling the soft fur.

But then he paused. His gaze caught on the puppy’s face. On the missing eye. The laughter faded into a brief, thoughtful silence.

Lev’s hand hovered mid-air, hesitant for a moment. His eyes softened, lips parting as though he wasn’t quite sure what to say. There was a flicker of sadness in his gaze, a quiet ache that said he wished the world had been kinder to this tiny, golden creature. But as he looked closer, that sadness began to melt. The puppy’s single eye sparkled with joy. He was still wagging, still excited, still pressing against Lev’s hand with warmth and trust. There wasn’t fear. There wasn’t shame. Only happiness.

Lev let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and slowly gathered the puppy into his arms. The pup licked his chin, soft and warm, and Lev’s laugh returned, gentler this time.

"He’s… happy," Lev murmured, almost in disbelief.

"He’s really happy," his eyes brightened as he glace at you.

"Yes...yes he is," (Y/N) nod with a smile on her/his/their face.

"I think I’ll call him Taiyo, because he’s like the sun. Bright, even with one eye," he said softly, smiling.

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❀

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capricorn-writes1 · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, how are you? ♡ Can I ask for headcanons with Akashi, Midorima and Imayoshi and how would they react with their partner who is Chinese and doesn't know how to speak any language and speaks very little of the boys' language? It would be fun to see their reaction when they see their partner speaking Chinese in front of them. Thank you so much if u see this and have a good day or night 😊

Akashi Seijuro, Midorima Shintarou, and Imayoshi Shouichi with S/O That Speaks Chinese but Cannot Speak Japanese

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Hello, there Anon. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I was focused on TOEFL as well as my Thesis. Warning: None Gender: Neutral

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Akashi Seijurou: Rakuzan High School

Surprisingly he can speak Mandarin because his father forced him to learn many languages. However, his Mandarin is not fluent, he can only speak broken Mandarin.

As his girlfriend/boyfriend, you luckily could understand his broken Mandarin and he would be glad that you are the one who taught him to speak Mandarin but in exchange he wants you to learn Japanese too.

A great excellent teacher who has lots of patience, doesn't get angry easily if you speak in a broken Japanese. He knows Japanese can be hard so he would teach you the basics of Japanese.

When you speak complete Mandarin, he could only understand some of the words and try to communicate with you but since like I said he has a broken Mandarin, there would be lots of grammatical errors.

If you get better in Japanese after he taught you some Japanese. He would make you learn Japanese at a higher level. He also wants you to learn Japanese so he can introduce you to his father.

In exchange, he would be willing to learn harder so he could be as fluent as you. He doesn't want to end up having a miscommunication and having an argument with you.

When he speaks with you and slips some Japanese words, he would immediately try to correct himself so you could understand what he was trying to say.

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(Y/N) walked through the halls of Rakuzan High School, the air heavy with the weight of academics and the excitement of approaching matches. As she strolled, her gaze was drawn to the familiar sights: polished floors, stoic paintings of previous basketball champions, and students scurrying around.

In the middle of all this commotion, (Y/N) recognised him: their/her/his lover, Akashi Seijuro, the basketball team captain. He stood tall and composed, commanding attention effortlessly. She approached him with a sweet smile, her heart racing with adoration. "你好(Hello)," she greeted in Mandarin, her voice a gentle melody in the quiet corridor.

Akashi turned to face her, his heterochromatic eyes alight with warmth. "你好," he replied, his Mandarin slightly halting.

A soft chuckle escaped (Y/N)'s lips at Akashi's attempt, finding his effort endearing. She/he/they reached out to take his hand, intertwining their/his/her fingers with his. "你今天过得怎么样("How's your day been?)" she asked, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

Akashi's lips quirked upwards in a subtle smile. "忙碌，一如既往。但见到你让它变得无比美好。(Busy, as always. But seeing you make it infinitely better,)" he replied, his voice carrying a hint of fondness as he spoke still in a broken accent.

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with affection at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spreading through them/her/him. Leaning in, she/he/they pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, feeling his warmth against her/his/their lips.

As (Y/N) recalled the little surprise she had prepared for Akashi, her smile widened. Holding out a small box adorned with a ribbon, she spoke in Chinese, her words soft but filled with warmth. "我给你带了一些东西，我不确定你是否喜欢吃甜食，但我做了蛋挞。希望你喜欢。(I brought you something. I'm not sure if you like sweets, but I made egg tarts. Hope you like them.)"

Akashi's eyes widened in pleasant surprise at her thoughtful gesture. Taking the box from her hands, he couldn't help but feel touched by her kindness. With a grateful smile, he responded in his slightly broken Mandarin, "谢谢你. (Thank you)"

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❀

Midorima Shintarou: Shuutoku High School

Unlike AKashi, he doesn't speak Mandarin or Chinese so you had a rocky relationship together with him. He doesn't understand Mandarin and you don't understand Japanese. Neither of you two understands each other.

As a result, he would definitely buy a Japanese book for you to learn and he would also buy a Mandarin basic language book to learn how to speak Mandarin.

When he wants to speak with you, he would either use Google Translate or those translating apps that can translate your language immediately when they record your voice.

Forcing suggesting you use those apps too so he could understand what you are trying to say. He would make funny faces if the application gave funny results.

Also would try to learn how to speak Mandarin or Chinese with the correct tone because he doesn't want to end up saying something inappropriate or rude.

He would also teach you how to speak Japanese, especially Kanji. He would also teach you katakana, and hiragana, and teach you some Japanese grammar.

Not Surprisingly going to learn the Chinese zodiac signs (the signs throughout the year. Those dragons, tigers, monkeys, pigs, etc) and then lhe will learn about your Chinese zodiac sign.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The sun streamed through the windows of the cosy café as (Y/N) sat nestled at a table, her/his/their focus split between her/his/their Japanese study materials and the warm aroma of her hazelnut latte. Suddenly, the subtle scrape of a chair drew her attention, and she glanced up to find her boyfriend, Midorima, standing before her. "嘿，亲爱的，你刚好来了(Hey darling, you just arrived in time)," she greeted in Mandarin, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Midorima, who used the translator, typed back the answer of your question after the translator gave the translation of what are you trying to say. "The café is near the school. Of course, I will arrive in time," the computer replied in Mandarin, his words carrying a hint of amusement beneath his reserved exterior.

(Y/N) nodded gratefully, mustering her/his/their courage to speak in Japanese despite her/his/their broken accent. "ここに来てくれてありがとう(Thank you for coming)," she/he/they said, her/his/their pronunciation a bit shaky. Midorima, secretly proud of your effort, nodded in acknowledgement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "どういたしまして(You're welcome)," he replied in Japanese, his voice soft but supportive, appreciating your attempt to communicate in his native language.

(Y/N) suddenly switched to Chinese, asking Midorima if he wanted a hazelnut latte. "你要榛果拿铁吗？我可以帮你点, (Do you want a hazelnut latte? I can help you order.)" she/he/they said in Chinese, her/his/their tone kind and offering.

Midorima, not understanding Chinese, reached for his translator device and inputted (Y/N)'s Mandarin statement. After a moment, the device spoke in Japanese, translating her words for him. Understanding her offer, he nodded appreciatively. "はい、お願いします (Yes, please)," he replied in Japanese, his voice calm and composed as always.

Midorima, realizing that (Y/N) might not understand Japanese, decided to respond in Mandarin. "好的，谢谢你 (Okay, thank you)," he said in Chinese, expressing his gratitude for her offer. As (Y/N) headed to the counter to order Midorima's hazelnut latte, he took out his notebook and began to write down the basic katakana and hiragana characters. Carefully, he sketched each character.

Once he finished, he placed the notebook on the table, leaving it open for (Y/N) to see when she returned. With a faint smile, he resumed his posture, delving into his book as he waited for her to come back.

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❀

Imayoshi Shouichi: Touou Academy High School

Since you don't understand Japanese but only speak Chinese, this is going to give him a chance to mess with you. Believe me, he would mess with you a lot.

I can see him understand a little bit of Chinese so he would teach you some Japanese words that actually have a bad meaning but he would say 'Oh, that means Thank you in Japanese'.

Once you actually found out, you could hear him snickering and you give him an unamused look. Now you have trust issues when he teaches you Japanese.

Sometimes when he speaks to you, he purposely slips in some Japanese words, especially the ones he did not teach you so you would be hella confused.

And if you don't understand, he would pretend to pout at you and says "Haven't I taught you that words? You don't understand?" This prick really gaslighted you and would laugh if you actually felt bad.

Despite all of the shit and giggles, he's not one hundred percent prick. He would be willing to teach you Japanese Literature if you don't understand Japanese and have Japanese Literature homework.

Also, if you did a great job and could start speaking in Japanese, he would actually give you some of your favourite snacks as a prize for your hard work.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

On an inviting Saturday afternoon, the café's cosy ambience enveloped Imayoshi and (Y/N) as they sat together, reading over Japanese textbooks. (Y/N), a new student from China, had just arrived in Japan and was eager to learn the language. She spoke barely a little Japanese, but her ambition to grasp it was evident.

As they pored over the pages of their Japanese textbook, (Y/N) paused, her/his/their finger tracing over a word she/he/they didn't recognize. "What does 'ocha' mean?" she/he/they asked, her/his/their voice tinged with curiosity.

Imayoshi, seizing the opportunity to playfully tease his girlfriend/boyfriend, couldn't resist a mischievous grin. "Ah, 'ocha'," he began, his tone deceptively serious. "That means coffee." (Y/N) furrowed her/his/their brow, a hint of scepticism in her/his/their expression. "Really?" she/he/they questioned, not entirely convinced by Imayoshi's answer.

Imayoshi nodded, his expression perfectly composed. "Yes, that's right. And 'kohi' means tea," he added confidently, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he purposely switched the meanings. (Y/N)'s confusion deepened as she processed Imayoshi's words. "But... isn't it the other way around?" she/he/they ventured, her/his/their uncertainty evident in your voice.

Imayoshi couldn't contain his laughter any longer, the mischief dancing in his eyes as he revealed the truth. "You caught me," he admitted, his grin widening. "I was just pulling your leg. 'Ocha' actually means tea, and 'kohi' means coffee." Relief washed over (Y/N) as she/he/they realized she/he/they hadn't been misled, a playful glint entered her eyes. "You're terrible," you scolded with a playful swat to his arm

Imayoshi's playful smirk widened at (Y/N)'s pout, thoroughly enjoying their banter. "哦，你知道这个意思了。这意味着你不再需要我了吗？("Oh, do you understand the meaning now? Does this mean you no longer need me?)" he teased in Mandarin, his tone light and teasing.

(Y/N) couldn't help but play along, her/his/their pout deepening as she pretended to be offended. "我需要你教我，别那么坏 (I need you to teach me, don't be so mean.)," she/he/they replied, her/his/their voice tinged with mock indignation.

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❀

#kuroko no basket #kuroko no basquet #kuroko's basketball #knb headcanons #knb imagines #knb scenarios #knb fluff #knb akashi #akashi seijuro #akashi x reader #akashi headcanons #knb midorima #midorima headcanons #midorima shintarou #midorima x reader #knb imayoshi #imayoshi x reader #imayoshi shouichi #imayoshi headcanons

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capricorn-writes1 · 1 year ago

Note

s/o's reaction to luxembourg dying in front of them

S/O Reaction to Louis Jansen (Luxembourg) , Emma Jansen (Belgium), and Tim Jansen(Netherland) Dying In Front of Them.

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A/N: Hello, there anon. This headcanon would contain ANGST with no comfort. So, I hope you like the result and Try my best to make this headcannon. Also, since this is (Y/N) perspective. This headcannons really challenging for me and I apologize if there is an OOC characters.

Gender: Neutral Warning: Angst, No Comfort, Gore and Profanaties.

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Louis Jansen - Luxembourg

We know that countries cannot die unless the country is gone and it is impossible until today. Seeing your beloved Luxembourg laid in the coffin after battling a deadly disease because of the homicide case.

And other countries are trying to take over Luxembourg. As a result, he lay in the bed of the hospital. Wrapped in the bandages, in a pained state.

As a good S/O, you sat in the chair next to him, gently touching his hand that doesn't have any injuries. Your heart-wrenching painfully, seeing him like this.

It was unexpected and you hate to see him like this but he smiles weakly at you, trying to act as if he is fine after the brutal attack from his own people and from other countries. "mon amour, I'm sorry you must see me like this," he coughs.

With an instinct, your hand gently rubs his back, trying not to touch the injury. "No, I'm sorry that I came really late. The work in my place is really hectic and I had to hear the news from Germany about your injuries. I did not think your own people going to hurt you," you told him.

He could only nod his hand gently before his eyes closed slowly, feeling the grip of his hand loosening. He wanted to say goodbye to you but his throat felt painful and the last thing he saw was darkness. "Louis??? LOUIS!!" You scream his name

Everything turns black and white, you try to press the bell to call the nurses but the doctors and the nurse come late. You tried your best to save him but all of those effort was just for nothing.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

(Y/N) stood in front of room 202, momentarily gasping for air. They let out a soft breath, lifted their hand, and gave the door a little knock. "Hey Louis, it's me, (Y/N)," they/she/he yelled, their/her/his voices hardly audible above a whisper. They/she/he stepped inside the room, hearts heavy with worry, as the door creaked open.

Louise was lying on the bed inside, looking frail against the bright white linens. His body was covered in bandages, a subtle reminder of the struggles he had endured. The sight made (Y/N)'s heart tighten, with sorrow. They/she/he took a step forward and extended a hand, providing Louise with wordless consolation despite his suffering.

As (Y/N) saw Louise's weak smile—a thin mask concealing the struggle within—their/her/his eyes overflowed with sadness. They/she/he apologised, regretting your tardiness, "Work was just... overwhelming," you said. Reaching out to put a gentle squeeze on Louise's hand, both of them offered comfort and an apology.

Louis forced a meek smile, an attempt that hid the agony that was always there. He spoke quietly, "It's fine, Mon amour," offering (Y/N) a sweet consolation for her/his/their disturbed mind. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this." There was a lingering apology.

Panic surged through (Y/N) like wildfire as Louise's eyes began to flutter closed, the rhythmic beeping of the machines growing louder, more urgent. With trembling hands, (Y/N) reached out, pressing the red button on the bedside repeatedly, desperation clawing at their chest as they prayed for help to arrive. "LOUIS!!! LOUIS!!!" (y/n) screams in fear.

As the line on the monitor straightened, a chilling realization washed over (Y/N), stealing the breath from their lungs. Time seemed to slow as they stared at Louise, their heart wrenching with grief too profound for words. With trembling hands, you reached out, grasping Louise's cold fingers in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting moments you two have shared together. "Louis.......I'm so sorry......" You whisper.

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❀

Emma Jansen - Belgium

You always know Emma is one of the sweetest girls than other countries and you love her more than anything. She's perfect in your eyes, and you never expect someone would be able to hate her.

But you're wrong, blood in your hand as it spread through your shirt and your pants. Your hands cradling the love of your life, she was breathing heavily.

The man that had just shot the love of your life had run away after guards were arriving to take down the man. The bullet in that man's gun has a serum that can kill a country and you had no idea why that man killed your girlfriend.

'The girl is coughing violently after the bullet went through her chest and stuck inside of her beating heart. "EMMA!! STAY WITH ME!! THE HELP IS COMING!!" You scream, holding her tighter.

The tears slowly coming out from her eyes as she coughs some blood from the corner of her mouth "It hurts so bad.....I'm scared, I don't want to go.." she whispered with tears in her eyes.

Tears streamed down your face when you saw her in pain like this. It's not fair, why would someone hate her, she is sweet, amazing, friendly, and adorable, and you love her more than anything. "Please....stay"

She could only weakly smile at you when you apologised and begged her to stay alive before her eyes closed. Despite the ambulance has came, they were too late to save your girlfriend.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

With a cosy atmosphere created by the gentle glow of streetlights, Emma and (Y/N) strolled slowly down the busy street. Their talk flowed easily as they talked about the new restaurant of the brand-new Italian restaurant in town, their eyes lighting up with anticipation at every mention of the delectable food and welcoming atmosphere. "We should try the new restaurant you told me about, (Y/N)" "Sure, we can go there and try Feliciano's Pasta," (Y/N) said.

Lost in the excitement of their shared plans, they strolled along the pavement, oblivious to the approaching figure that would soon ruin their evening. The bald man was tall with a looming figure, his eyes hidden underneath dark shades and a scar across his mouth to show how dangerous he was.

The man slowly comes up from the dark alleyway. (Y/N) and Emma's romantic evening took an unexpected turn as a shadow fell across their path, The atmosphere shifted, tension crackling in the air like electricity. Instinctively, they exchanged a wary glance, their senses on high alert.

The man standing before them wore a grim expression, his presence imposing against the backdrop of the bustling street. (Y/N) and Emma exchanged a silent communication, wordlessly agreeing to retreat from the confrontation.

Slowly, they began to back away, their movements cautious as they sought to evade the ominous figure blocking their path. But their efforts were in vain as the man's gaze honed in on Emma, his voice cutting through the night with a chilling clarity. "Are you Emma Jansen?" he demanded, sending a shiver down their spines.

Emma's pulse beat with a mixture of rage and terror as she grudgingly revealed her identity. "Y-yes, I'm Emma....the personification of Belgium..." "Then, give me all the money you have," he glowered The man's demand for money sent shockwaves through her before she could completely realise how serious things were.

As the man moved his pistol towards (Y/N), his threat suddenly became lethal and hung in the air like a dark cloud. Emma felt a wave of panic as she realised that her beloved (Y/N) was in danger. She begged again, her voice quivering with desperation and her hands shaking. "Please....don't hurt (Y/N)...." The man's finger tightened on the trigger, though, and instinct took over.

In a split-second decision, Emma used all of her effort to shove (Y/N) aside, blocking the bullet that was intended for her partner with her body. The sound of tragedy resonated through the night as the gunshot echoed, making time seem to stop. Emma fell to the ground, breathing heavily and shallowly, a red spot appearing on her chest as (Y/N) stumbled back.

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❀

Tim Jansen - Netherland

You know Tim always had an addiction to smoking and there are many bad effects of smoking, one of them is lung cancer but you never think the country is going to be able to have human diseases.

Well, that is actually wrong when the country also has economic trouble with lots of political governments that are corrupt and steal other people's money.

It was painful to see him like this but there was nothing you can do. The government in there are evil, if you try to stand up for him. You could be taken to jail.

You have been taking care of your boyfriend in the hospital from morning and night, even going as far as taking a working hour in the hospital instead of the office just so you could take care of him.

Tim could not help but be glad that he has a boyfriend/girlfriend as caring as you and you were on his side instead of going out to work or leaving him like some people do.

But he knows he can't stay long because sooner or later his country is going to be destroyed by his own people and he will be gone so he leaves a note on the table when you are not looking.

"Bedankt (Thank you), (Y/N) for taking care of me and being a part of my life but sadly. I cannot stay long because I can feel my body getting weaker. Please take care of yourself and don't forget me," that was the last message before the night he let his last breath.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

As Tim Jansen lay in the hospital room, the embodiment of Netherland corruption manifested in his frail form. His once formidable presence is now reduced to a mere shadow of its former self, ravaged by the deadly illness. With each cough, the echoes of his misdeeds reverberated through the room, a haunting reminder of the consequences of his people's actions.

(Y/N), bearing witness to the brutal reality before them/her/him, felt a pang of empathy stir within their/her/his heart. Without hesitation, (Y/N) approached Tim's bedside, a silent offering of solace in the chaos of his downfall. Gently, you lifted the glass of water to his parched lips.

(Y/N)'s heart weighed heavy with sorrow as they gazed down at Tim, your voice laced with regret as you spoke. "I'm sorry I could not do much... I wish I could help, but the people would riot against me," you murmured softly. With a gentle touch, you brushed your hand against his brow, your touch was as tender as a rose petal, caressing his face.

Tim's response was a weak nod, a faint acknowledgement of (Y/N)'s apology. "It's okay, Mijn liefje (My Darling)," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "No need to apologize for my people's actions." He was aware (Y/N) is just a normal human being, it's impossible to defeat the whole government when (Y/N) is the only person aware.

As (Y/N) rose from Tim's bedside, a determined resolve gleaming in their/her/his eyes, he watched in silence, gratitude swelling within him despite the heaviness of his heart. "I will buy something for you... please wait. I'm sure you're hungry, and the hospital food sometimes sucks," you promised, your words and voice like a small ray of light in the darkness of his despair.

Left alone in the quiet of the hospital room, Tim's trembling hand reached for a nearby paper, his fingers tracing the delicate lines as he carefully composed his message for (Y/N). With each word, his gratitude poured forth, a bittersweet reminder of the fleeting nature of their connection. "Bedankt (Thank you), (Y/N), for taking care of me and being a part of my life," he wrote, his penmanship a reflection of the depth of his emotion. "But sadly, I cannot stay long because I can feel my body getting weaker. Please take care of yourself and don't forget me."

With a heavy heart, Tim folded the paper with trembling hands, his gaze lingering on the spot where (Y/N) had stood moments before. Placing the message on the table near (Y/N)'s computer, he offered a silent prayer that his words would serve as a lasting reminder of the bond they shared, even in the face of inevitable farewell.

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❀

13 notes · View notes

capricorn-writes1 · 1 year ago

Note

I can ask for headcanons of the reaction of Spain, Germany, Austria, Hungary and Prussia, to the fact that Prussia adopted a girl who was a Latin nation that Spain conquered only because the amazing boy prussia seemed tender to her?

Antonio Fernández Carriedo (SPAIN), Ludwig Beilschmidt (GERMANY), Roderich Edelstein (AUSTRIA), Elizabeta Héderváry (HUNGARY), and Gilbert Beilschmidt (PRUSSIA) REACTION TO PRUSSIA ADOPTED LATIN NATION FROM SPAIN

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A/N: Hey there @chiless. I hope you like the final result because if I had to be honest. I don't have any knowledge of Latin History and I have never written this kind of Headcannon.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities

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Antonio Fernández Carriedo - Spain

Poor Boy was jealous when his own buddy got all chummy with you, the personification of Latin because he was the one who had taken care of you.

The first time, he would not let Prussia get close to you because he believed he was capable more of taking care of you than him since he believes he has more capability (I mean he takes care of Romano).

But that doesn't mean he would not let his own best friend interact with you because once he sees how tender Prussia is with Latin. He realizes Prussia is reliable.

When the two of you bond better, he starts to trust Prussia more to take care of you because he sees how gentle and caring he is despite Prussia being very reckless.

Sometimes, he would let Prussia be your babysitter when he is really busy, especially when he is overworking to pay the debt (but still doesn't trust him completely).

He also remembers Prussia taking care of Ludwig when he was younger so he knows Prussia can be a great brother or caretaker for you.

However, if Prussia actually did mess up and if he sees any small injury. He would actually pick a fight with Prussia despite the two of them being buddies.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Antonio could not believe his own eyes as he was running around to look for you, the personification of Latin. But let's recap what was happening before this happened. It was Saturday in the afternoon around 2 o'clock. Antonio has a stack of files given by his boss and it has to be finished today or he will get an even larger stack of files that need to be done.

He could not help but sigh before he crouched down right in front of Latin with a sad smile on his face. As the personification and the new country, you did not understand why your older brother looked as if he was sad but trying to smile for you "My dear Hermano (Sister/brother), I am sorry that I cannot play with you for today. The boss wants me to finish all of my job. You can play outside and play with Romano," he patted your head.

Of course, hearing this makes you a little bit sad because you could not hang out with your brother. He has been really busy lately and it is as if he has no time for you. "Okay, I will play with Romano," the little you nodded before running out of the room. But you know Romano can be mean, you don't really want to be yelled at by your brother Romano so you got out of the house to play outside.

Your little feet carry you to the wilderness where you can see all the small critters and insects and have a little adventure near the house. Nevertheless, you did not realize someone was spying on you. The person following you with a sword in their hand and a grin on his face, the old man getting closer and closer to you as your back facing the dangerous man.

Before the man could swing the sword to you, a scream could be heard but it doesn't sound familiar to you. It sounds rough and deep with the heavy laughter of 'Kesesese'. "Komm weg von dem kleinen Kind!(Get away from that little kid!) Or the avesome me going to kick jour ass!" The sound surprises you as you turn around.

A man with messy white hair, pale skin and a pair of red eyes like a ruby swung his sword at the man who was behind you. The older man quickly blocked his sword but it got yeeted away. The edge of your saviour's sword was pointed at the neck of the assassin who almost killed you. "Go avay from them/her/him," Prussia said. "....Finem you will regret this," the old man ran away,

Prussia then sheath his sword back with a smirk on his face, his hand gently tousling your hair. "Be careful next time, ja? Jou must be Latin, The avesome I am Prussia. Your brother's friend. Tell your brother vhat happened earlier. I'm sure he's looking for you."

Right after Prussia said those, you could hear your older brother's voice from far away and you turned around to see Spain with a worried face but it turned into a relief when he saw it was Prussia. "Ah Prussia, You found my younger sibling. Thank you so much for helping me find Latin. I was so worried," Spain trudges closer before his hand shaking with Prussia's hands. "It vas no problem. The avesome me will not let any danger get close to jour sibling."

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Ludwig Beilschmidt - Germany

At first time when he sees his older brother adopting a little country from Latin, he thinks the older brother would mess it up and it would be a bad idea because he thinks he would be a bad influence.

But he also remembers when he was younger, Prussia also had taken care of him despite Prussia being kind of a lunatic brother and sometimes endangering himself.

So he would actually volunteer to take care of Latin. Usually, he would be the one who also takes the hardest part since he is disciplined despite being awkward.

Secretly, he's proud when he sees Prussia being all soft and gentle around Latin. He knows even though Prussia is loud and obnoxious, Prussia is a caring person deep inside.

But would also scold his older brother when Prussia is being reckless, muttering to himself who is actually the older brother in the family.

Ludwig helps him by preparing the necessities he needs to adopt Latin by preparing all kinds of foods, cleaning supplies and other necessities.

His heart is melting though when he sees Latin being all giggly and having fun with Prussia. This is until Prussia tries to drag Latin into some trouble. Then he will try to stop them

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After the incident of the bad guy trying to assassinate you, the clothes were dirty from the dust and a little bit of blood since you had fallen when Prussia was blocking the guy. Seeing your condition, Prussia could not help but sigh loudly while wiping the sweat on his forehead away. "Thank God that guy is gone for good, Vho was he?" Prussia asks Spain. "I'm not sure but I think it's those humans that try to steal the country's power," Spain shrugs.

The certain albino could not help but sigh loudly at Antonio's answer because he could be right and the old man would go back at any time so they needed to go back. "Spain, since my place is near. Jou and jour little bruder (brother)/schwester(sister) can stay at my place for a bit. (Y/N) can vear my Bruder's old clothes. I still have many of them and the avesome me think it could be a great idea to hide (Y/N) in my place." "Sure, that will be a great idea. Can you take care of Latin for a while? I think it will be safe," Spain gently pats your head "Kesesese, you can trust me," Prussia winks.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

A certain tall German man walked along the street and followed the light as the sky got darker. Twisting the doorknob open and pushing it away, he places the coat on the hanger as well as the hat before putting the shoes away. "Bruder, I'm back from the meeting," It was the younger brother of Prussia who had just gotten back from the world meeting.

As he turns around, he sees a little kid in the living room with his old clothes when he was younger. He could not believe his own eyes of what he just saw right now, his eyes blinking repeatedly before he rubbed his eyes with his hands. 'A little kid in this house. Don't tell me my dummkopf Bruder had knocked up some woman and made me take care of this kid,' His face went cold as this thought swarmed inside of him.

He was going to take a deep breath and call Gilbert but he could hear the sound of Gilbird chirping nearby and Prussia with all of his glory, came from the kitchen with a half-eaten toast in his hand. "Kesesese, my bruder just got home! And jou meet the avesome latin!"Prussia exclaimed as he put the toast away. "Bruder! Don't tell me you kidnapped Spain's bruder /schwester! Spain is going to be mad!" Germany glares at his older brother. "Nein!!! I did not kidnap Latin at all! An unavesome old man vas going to kill him/her/them and zhe avesome me kick the old man ass!" Prussia explains quickly

Hearing his explanation made Ludwig's face even colder as his eyes widened and his face turned slightly blue. Nevertheless, it was gone in a second before he took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. "So let me get this straight. Someone tried to kill Spain's sibling and jou saved this kid?" Ludwig asks. "Ja, and Spain vitnessed it if you don't believe me," Prussia stuck his tongue out. "Vell it does sound make sense vhen it doesn't come from you. But since you said Spain saw the incident. I vill ask him about it and I think it's better ve buy some clothes and some foods for Latin," Germany said.

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❀

Roderich Edelstein - Austria

Another guy who also doesn't trust Prussia around children, he thinks Prussia is dangerous, loud, and could not take care of himself, especially children.

As a result, he would always worry about Latin's condition when he was around Prussia because he didn't want Latin to grow up to be like him.

Even if Spain tries to convince him that he can trust Prussia. he would not believe him until he could see it with his own eyes when Prussia was tender and caring towards Latin.

Just like Germany, he would also volunteer to take care of Latin because he thinks Prussia could not take care of a country even though he knows that Prussia did take care of Germany

Unlike Germany, he just hopes that Prussia won't endanger you or drag you to cause trouble because he knows Prussia tends to be irresponsible, especially when he is drunk.

With the help of Hungary, he would also take care of Latin when Prussia was not around. He would also teach Latin how to play music just like him (but fails because we know Latin probably plays guitar from Spain).

He does know Prussia has a soft spot for a tiny country like you but he also remembers Prussia is a country that has disappeared so one day he hopes once he is gone. You won't be too brokenhearted.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The news that Prussia would take care of Latin after saving the little country from a bad guy spread fast after Ludwig told Hungary and Austria about it. No one believed it and as a result, a certain pianist player wanted to see you by himself to confirm that Ludwig was right about Prussia taking care of Latin.

After a long hour of driving, the door of Ludwig's house busted open with Roderich standing there. His eyes immediately went to Ludwig who was sighing in annoyance, knowing he had to repair that door again after Italy and Prussia often burst them open unlike how normal people act. "Is it true, your brother adopting Latin?" Austria asks Germany. "Ja, jou did not read my message vrong. My bruder is taking care of Latin,"

Austria sat on one of the couches, crowing his arms together, eyebrows furrowed before he looked at him in a serious tone. "May I speak with Prussia alone?" Austria asks Germany "Ya, he is in his room and working out. I vill be calling him," Germany stood up and strutted downstairs, going to Prussia's bedroom to tell him that there's Austria and he wants to talk with him.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

The air between Gilbert and Roderich was intense but in an unusual way like when Gilbert annoys him just for shits and giggles. Roderich's pulse raced as he got the question, his voice quivering slightly as he asked Gilbert if the story included any of the truth. "Is it true, Prussia? Did you really save that kid from the bad man?" "Ja, it's true, I swooped in and rescued the little one from that stranger," Prussia's tone laced confidently. "Are you planning to take in the little kid, Gilbert?" Roderich questioned, his tone tinted with curiosity as he saw the toddler playing close.

Gilbert scratched his head, thinking about the question for a time. "vell, I haven't really thought about it," he said, his brow furrowing in thought. "But Latin could use a stable home, I guess." Roderich groaned and shook his head, exasperated. "You can't just suppose when it comes to raising a child, Gilbert," he reminded. "You'll need to buy necessities - education, clothes, food, and so much more."

Gilbert's face softened as he understood the seriousness of the issue. "Jou are right, Austria. It's been a long time since I had to care for someone so young. I'll have to work things out. He cast another gaze at the child, overcome in his eyes. "But I'll do whatever it takes to give Latin the best life possible."

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❀

Elizabeta Héderváry - Hungary

She thinks you are the most adorable country after Italy and the most precious thing in the world that must be protected at all costs so she would be your other sittter.

Very surprised when she knows that Prussia is taking care of you and being brotherly around you because she thinks Prussia is too reckless and couldn't even take care of a baby.

Always tries to hit Prussia with her pan if she even sees any small injuries on you, even If it was not Prussia's fault and blames him for not taking care of you properly.

Always tries to steal you away from Prussia and become your guardian instead of him. Even if she knows Prussia took care of Germany when he was younger, she still doesn't trust him.

Tries to bribe you too so she would be your favourite guardian instead of Prussia, especially bribing you with Hungarian or Austrian sweets (by asking Roderich).

Only trust Prussia to take care of you when there is Germany because she knows Prussia is going to drag you into some trouble and teach you bad things.

Sadly, you cannot change her mind, unlike Austria and Spain even if Prussia proves to her that he can take care of you but at least you got double sweets from her and from Prussia.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

As Prussia and Austria thought about Latin's future, their talk was unexpectedly interrupted by Hungary's powerful entry, her presence instilling dread in Prussia's heart as her eyes drilled into him with a stare that could freeze fire. She wore a long green dress with a flawless white apron and a floral hairclip on her head, and she held a pan with a no-nonsense demeanour.

Prussia was caught off guard and swore under his breath in German, his look reflecting his worry at the imminent rebuke from Hungary, while Austria gazed on, a mixture of concern and amusement playing over his features. Oh, Scheiße, vhy is Hungary pissed at me?" Prussia asks Austria "I'm not sure but maybe it's about the kid" Austria sensed the reason why she acts like this.

Hungary marched towards Gilbert, her determination apparent demanding answers with fierce passion. "Did you kidnap Latin from Spain?" she questioned, her voice full of scepticism Prussia's decline was quick and clear. "No! I would never do such a thing! "I simply saved her from a dangerous situation," he stated, his palms lifted in an innocent gesture.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Hungary's demeanour softened as she dropped her pan, her doubts eased by (Y/N)'s explanation. She sighed and sat down next to Roderich, her eyes fixed on Prussia. "Alright," she said, her tone stern yet interested. "Explain everything. How did you manage to adopt Latin?"

Prussia took a deep breath before describing the events that led to Latin's adoption. With Roderich's help, he described his meeting with the dangerous man endangering the developing nation, as well as his later choice to provide them safety. Hungary listened closely as he talked, her attitude changing from suspicion to understanding. By the end of his explanation, she had nodded thoughtfully, realising the seriousness of the situation and the need of Prussia's actions.

Elizaveta sighed with relief after she listened to Prussia's explanation, her heart warmed by the severity of the situation. She rose to her feet and smiled gently, her glance expressing an understated pledge of support. "I'll help you," she answered simply, her voice bearing a calm determination. "We'll gather everything Latin needs."

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❀

Gilbert Beilschmidt - Prussia

Doesn't expect he will actually adopt Latin because he doesn't really believe that he is capable of taking care of a smaller nation or himself, his younger brother always helps around taking care of him.

He does remember that he did take care of Germany when he was younger but that's only it. After he stops becoming a country, it's Germany who has taken care of him.

Afraid to mess up, he would often call Spain to help him around but he also helped Spain take care of Latin when he had free time, sometimes asking his brother's help too.

Tries his best not to curse around because he doesn't want Latin to take his negative habits by swearing and drinking until drunk. So he puts all of his beer on the highest cupboard and always tries to censor himself around you.

Tries to be the best big brother for you. Always teach you how to play swords because he used to be a Teutonic knight in the past but used a wooden sword so you would not get hurt.

Becoming your partner in crime. For example, if Germany doesn't let you each chocolate cake. He will secretly slip some cakes for you because he feels bad when you have sad puppy eyes and beg Germany for some sweets.

Also, tries to spend his time a lot together with you when he has free items and when you are bored. Sometimes, would purposely loose for you so you could be happy.

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As the sun poured its golden beams across the peaceful Saturday morning, Spain softly handed over Latin to Prussia and Germany, his face remorseful as he explained his absence in a quick text message. With a hard schedule and upcoming meetings, he reluctantly surrendered Latin's care to his brother nations, a sense of duty resting heavily on his shoulders. And as he wished them farewell, vowing to return soon.

Mi Amigo(My friend) . I am very sorry but today the meeting is very hectic and I have lots of files given by my boss. Today, I cannot take care of Latin so I hope you can take care of Latin for me. That was the message Spain had given to Prussia as the Albino read the text message and Latin who was sitting in the living room.

Prussia went silent for a minute, his mind drifting, and then a cheeky smile appeared on his face, followed by his signature "Kesesese" giggle. His eyes focused on the young Latin, recalling his brother's fondness for baking. "Hey, are you hungry?" he said, his tone playful yet warm to the younger nation "I have a delicious chocolate cake waiting for you."

The young nation's ears perked up at the mention of cake, excitement evident in her nod. Prussia leaned in closer, whispering, "Follow me," before leading the way to the kitchen with Latin in tow. As he swung open the fridge door, a smirk played on his lips. "You must be hungry," he remarked, his tone was secretive.

"I have chocolate cakes for us." With ease, he cut two large slices, one for Latin and one for himself. With a delighted grin, he returned the cake to its proper spot in the fridge, ready to enjoy the stolen cake. After serving the cake, he would eat the cake together with Latin without Germany knowing them.

Once they finished their cake, Prussia put his finger to his lips, signalling for silence, and whispered to (Y/N), "Don't tell anyone we had chocolate cake, okay? If you keep it a secret, we can play with Berlitz, Aster, and Blackie all day. Then, we can watch some cartoons." (Y/N) nodded eagerly, agreeing to the plan. As Prussia collected the plates and washed the dirty dishes to hide any evidence, (Y/N) watched on, excited for the day ahead.

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❀

64 notes · View notes

capricorn-writes1 · 1 year ago

Note

i’m back! this time could i have some crushing + gen relationship hcs w/ australia?💞

Jett Kirkland (AUSTRALIA), Nathaniel Zacker (NEW ZEALAND), and Arthur Kirkland (ENGLAND), and Ciarán Kirkland (IRELAND) GENERAL CRUSHING HEADCANONS

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HI, @reeces-pieses!! Of course, you can have another crushing Headcannon. And you are the first time who actually requested for Australia and I will try my best to portray him inside of this Headcannon! I hope you do not mind that I add England and also New Zealand.

Gender: Neutral Warning: None

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JETT KIRKLAND - Australia

Actually, it's pretty obvious when he has a crush but sadly since he is friendly and an extrovert, you are going to think he would be just being friendly so this can be a bit tricky.

He will be touchy around you but not to the point he will make you uncomfortable. Mostly he would shake your hand, head, or shoulder. He still respects your boundaries.

If you are sad, he would try to make you laugh by making funny jokes but if you are still sad and need something to be hugged, he would let you cuddle his koala.

Seems confident but secretly shy. If you actually touch him, he would internally scream in happiness, he could not believe that you actually just touched him.

Actually have crazy effort for you if he had a crush on you, he would keep asking you to hang out with him but since it's in the stage of crushing, he would let you bring your own friends and his friends.

Sometimes, he would lend you his hat or an umbrella if you got sunburnt since his beaches can be hot. He doesn't care if he gets a sunburn he thinks you need it more than him.

It would be hard to catch him getting shy because once you look at him, he would act as if he had not just gotten reddened when you held one of his hands and smiled at you.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The golden sands stretched out before them, kissed by the warm rays of the summer sun. A gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean as the person strolled along the beach, their footsteps leaving imprints in the soft sand. Seagulls wheeled and cried overhead, adding their voices to the symphony of the seaside.

A person with a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt, the vibrant colours contrasting against the blue sky. With each step, they/she/he felt the stress of everyday life melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. After days of working hard, (Y/N) finally deserve a resting time. "(Y/N)! Oi mate!" A person suddenly called your name.

(Y/N) turned at the sound of their/his/her name, curious about the source of the cheerful greeting. As they scanned the beach, their eyes landed on Jett Kirkland, the personification of Australia, waving enthusiastically with a surfboard in hand. A grin spread across (Y/N)'s face as they recognized the familiar figure, known for his love of adventure and the ocean. "Oh hey, Australia," You made your way over him.

Jett's playful strokes on (Y/N)'s head gave her/him/them a pleasant sensation, and his cheerful demeanour placed them at rest. As he expressed his excitement at seeing you in his own country, (Y/N) couldn't help but grin in response, impressed by his genuine enthusiasm. But you had had no idea that, beyond Jett's friendly façade, he was hiding his feelings for a long time. "Hey (Y/N), do you wanna surf with me. The waves in here are great!" "I... I can't surf," (Y/N) admitted, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

Jett's smile grew wider at (Y/N)'s response. "Don't worry at all! I'll teach you," he guaranteed, his voice full of confidence. "We'll start softly, and I'll be right behind you the entire time. How does that sound?" With a reluctant nod, (Y/N) agreed, feeling both excited and nervous. The possibility of learning to surf with Jett at your side filled you with excitement.

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❀

NATHANIEL ZACKER - New Zealand

Even more obvious than Australia because he would be more clumsy than him. You would often catch him in the act when he was getting shy around you.

Poor guy, he is trying to speak normally around you but he would always be stammering and forgot what he should say next so he would just kind of stand there with a red face and say sorry.

I think he can bake but not as great as Austria or Germany. He would at least leave a pavlova on your tables. It is kind of messy but at least it was delicious. Or he would leave some ANZAC biscuits when it is Valentine's.

Always listen to you when you are talking around him, he would sometimes be in a daze because he thinks you look attractive but once you ask him, he would quickly snap out of it.

Gives you a meaningful small gift when he has crushes on you and it can be either handmade or he uses his own money instead of the government's money.

Most of the gifts he will give is probably a handmade scarf because I headcanon that he can knit since he is the country with lots of sheep. Either it will be a scarf, sweater, bobble head or a plushie.

Actually, would let you cuddle his lambs when you are sad but secretly he wishes it was him instead that is getting cuddled with you are sad.

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As the rain poured mercilessly, each droplet seemed to reflect the pain in (Y/N)'s heart. Standing in the rain, their damp clothes clinging to their/her/his body, (Y/N) felt the weight of their fight with their/her/his buddy push against them like thick clouds above. The lack of an umbrella reflected their unpreparedness for the storm that had formed between them, putting them in this pathetic position of vulnerability.

(Y/N) let out a shocked yelp as her shoes glided on the slick ground, landing against the wet pavement. Pain rushed through your right knee as you slumped, the pain of the impact blurring your senses for a brief second. Nathaniel Zacker, the personification of New Zealand, had just returned from a nearby conference when he heard your cries of pain and hurried to her rescue. With worry on his face, he knelt alongside her/him/them. "(Y/N), A-are you okay?"

(Y/N) gazed up in surprise as Nathaniel came before them, his presence both unexpected and reassuring. With a trembling nod, (Y/N) accepted Nathaniel's offer of help. Nathaniel softly placed his arm around (Y/N), carefully guiding them to their feet, and (Y/N) couldn't help but feel reassured by his touch. "Th-thank you," (Y/N) stuttered, their/her/his voice quiet and grateful as they fought to stand, their/his/her wounded knees protesting with each step.

Nathaniel's concern only deepened as he noticed (Y/N)'s struggle. With a tender smile, he offered his scarf to keep them warm, his gesture of kindness warming (Y/N)'s heart despite the chill of the rain-soaked air. "Come on, let's get you somewhere dry and warm," Nathaniel said gently, his arm still supporting (Y/N) as he led them towards his home.

Nathaniel's pulse raced and his cheeks flushed crimson as he silently thanked his fortunate stars for the unexpected meeting with his crush. Nathaniel took consolation in being their light of peace amongst the storm, despite the tornado of emotions rising inside him.

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ARTHUR KIRKLAND - England

Another guy who is obvious but not as obvious as New Zealand. In Cannon, he is a Tsundere and this is one of the reasons why it is obvious.

The reason it is not that obvious is because he could act like a poise gentleman. Doesn't react when you touch him or tease him or just simply look away as he hides his red face.

Acts rude towards you but in reality, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. For example, if you wanted to do something reckless, he would say whatever but as soon as you were gone. He would scream 'DON'T DO IT!"

Tries to bake a scones for you but soon there would be mountains of them that were thrown away because all of them are not edible and already looks like charcoal.

Another guy with crazy effort because if anything bad happens to you, he would try his best to protect you. For example, if you were bullied, he would stand up for you and doesn't care if he also gets injured.

He may be stubborn but he will try to be open-minded for you and tell you his opinion if you need to ramble or need someone to lean on when you are sad.

Also if he is drunk, he actually gonna cry about how mean you are for rejecting him and admitting that he has a crush on you but you keep ignoring him whereas you stood there in confusion.

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As (Y/N) sat next to Britain in the meeting room on Monday morning, the weight of the global warming debate lingered in the air. Despite their best efforts, (Y/N) struggled to concentrate on America's presentation about some mythical hero concept to tackle climate change—a notion that appeared to be more absurd than possible.

As (Y/N) listened to America's presentation, a pounding pain seized their temples. Despite the regular room temperature, a sudden cold fell over the meeting, forcing (Y/N) to quiver uncontrollably. Yesterday the girl remembered Britain told her/him/them not to eat ice cream when it's cold but they/she/he did not listen, (Y/N) just rolled their/his/her eyes and continued snacking on the ice cream bowl while watching Sherlock Holmes.

As Britain witnessed (Y/N)'s declining condition, he let out a depressing sigh, recalling his earlier warning against eating ice cream on a cold day. He rose from his seat and gently excused himself from the meeting room, hoping to ease (Y/N)'s discomfort. In the kitchen, he quickly brewed a hot cup of English breakfast tea, its sweet scent filling the room with warmth and comfort. Returning to (Y/N)'s side, Britain presented the calming beverage with a sweet smile, hoping it could help his crushes cold.

(Y/N)'s astonishment was evident as they/she/he kindly thanked Britain for the steaming tea, their/his/her thankfulness reflected in their emotions. (Y/N) received the cup with a friendly grin and sipped the hot drink. Britain, hesitant to meet (Y/N)'s eyes directly, felt a flush creep up his cheeks as he uncomfortably shook off the gesture. "Well, it was nothing," he said, his voice laced with a mix of annoyance and hesitation. "Your cough was bothering me, so I figured you needed something warm, obviously," he said, his attempt to hide his worry showing his actual sentiments.

As Britain watched (Y/N) sip the tea he had prepared, a hidden joy rose inside him, knowing that his crush had found comfort in his act. Silently, he prayed for (Y/N)'s quick recovery, hoping that the tea's warmth would help ease her/his/their sickness. Seating himself alongside (Y/N), Britain couldn't help but mutter quietly, barely audible, "Get well soon, my love." He prayed against hope that (Y/N) hadn't noticed his whisper.

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CIARÁN KIRKLAND - Ireland

The one who actually manages to hide it from you and not obvious unlike Britain, New Zealand and then Australia. He could actually act normal despite having a crush on you.

His personality is much of a Kuudere instead of Tsundere so he would not get red when he is speaking with you not stammering when starting a conversation.

But since he has a crush on you, you would actually notice chocolates shaped like clover on your table when you just arrive at the school or the world meeting.

More open-minded than Arthur so he would be more understanding and secretly more empathetic when he is around you than when he is around other countries.

It's cannon he hates getting bossed around, especially by his brothers BUT he doesn't mind if you actually ask him to do things for you if you need him but just don't take it for granted it.

From far away, you could actually hear a Celtic harp from far away and you might be wondering who plays it and what music it is. Well, it's actually for him and it's a secret way of him confessing to you through his music.

Secretly asks his fairies to get information about you, kind of creepy but the purpose is actually he just wants to understand anything you are interested in so when he speaks about it with you, he would not act like an idiot and pretend to know it all.

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On a beautiful Saturday morning, (Y/N) entered the crowded grocery shop with a list of tonight's groceries in hand. As they looked through their long list, their look changed to one of anger, as they saw how much money they'd have to spend and the effort of carrying the heavy bags. With a resigned sigh, (Y/N) readied themselves for the work ahead, knowing that the feast at home would make it all worthwhile.

Navigating through the packed aisles in search of sauces, (Y/N) felt a jolt, forcing the items in their arms to fall to the ground. "Oh! I'm so sorry! "I didn't mean to knock into you!" (Y/N) apologised, hastily leaning down to get the dropped objects. As their fingers accidentally brushed against one another's, (Y/N) glanced up to find the personification of Ireland in front of them. "Oh, hello, (Y/N)," he said kindly. "Here, let me help you," he said, joining (Y/N) in gathering the scattered goods.

As Ciara gently placed each grocery item into (Y/N)'s basket, he couldn't help but notice how heavy the load was. "You have quite a few groceries there. "Do you need a trolley for all that?" he asked concerned. (Y/N) shook her head, but Ciara sighed, indicating his concern. "Don't be stubborn," he softly reminded. "You clearly need some assistance. "Let me take that basket for you," he insisted, attempting to relieve (Y/N) of the weight.

As Ciara continued to assist (Y/N) with picking up the groceries, her surprise mingled with a blush at his kindness. "You don't need to. I don't want to burden you," (Y/N) insisted, averting their/her/his gaze shyly. Ignoring her protests, Ciara shook his head and continued to help, his determination unwavering. "Your house is nearby, right?" he asks. "I can bring these for you," Ciara offered. "You don't need to. It's too heavy, I can manage," (Y/N) tried to reject his offer again. "It's okay. Besides, you need some help so I will help you," he said bluntly, his sincerity shining through his words.

As they approached the cashier, (Y/N) sighed, accepting Ciara's assistance once more with a sweet grin. "Okay, thank you very much, Ireland. "I'm sorry I made you bring all of these groceries," you said. Ciara brushed aside your apology with a soft smile that was gone in one second. "There was no problem. He reassured you, "The least I can do is help you." Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Ciara's aid was motivated by more than simply kindness.

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