꒰ঌ eternity's chorus ໒꒱

iwaizumi is usually good at keeping his cool, but he can’t seem to stop the tears from flowing when you’re walking towards the altar dressed in white. as your gown trails behind you, slowly making your way to him in step with the violins’ soft tune, he sees his entire future behind that bright, nervous smile on your face. oikawa has to hand him a handkerchief so he doesn’t become a sobbing mess before you even reach him—best man duties.

he reads his vows with shaky hands and chokes on his words a few times. by the time he’s done, there’s more than a few tear drops on the small, crinkled piece of folded notebook paper. once you read your own vows, which he cries at too, your first kiss is accompanied by the faint taste of salt on his lips.

and even though his friends can’t help but tease him for being a crybaby, nobody misses the way he looks at you like you’re his whole world as you wipe away the tears from his cheeks. it’s a face that tells you he can’t believe you chose him to be yours, forever.

feat. hajime, osamu, shoyo, & kei. inspired by my cafe's spring menu.

˚ᯓᡣ𐭩 rose matcha – with hajime .˚❀₊˚ 𓍢ִִ໋໋

⛰ a picnic in the trunk facing the flower fields ↠ carrizo plain ⛰ i can't lie, he has the prettiest eyes i've ever seen┊ever seen – beabadoobee ⛰ drink notes: delicate rose seems to perch at the palate above the bright taste of fresh matcha.

for a while, you’ve been mentioning wanting to see flowers. “there’s a big field in carlsbad,” you brought up. “and lots of botanical gardens nearby.” 

now, hajime is not a man who will take you to some city garden and let that suffice. with what stress you’re going through lately, the last thing you need is to be around a busy crowd of people.

so hajime makes plans. hajime does his research. nestled in the central coast of california is a stretch of land where boundless blooms sprout from winter rain. the drive is long, and traffic is abysmal, but it’s worth it to him. it’s for you, after all.

four hours later, the tires of hajime’s car crunch on the dirt road as he pulls over on a hill overlooking the vast canvas of wildflowers. he pops open the trunk, laying out a blanket for you to sit on as he leans on the taillight.

you glance over at him. hajime is standing still, his eyes wide with mirth at the sight. he turns to you after a moment, smiling, the kind that blows you away every time he does it. his eyes crinkle, and his nose kind of scrunches, but it’s so bright, and so wide, and he’s got the tiniest dimples that peek out from the hollows of his cheeks. 

“isn’t it pretty?” he asks, reaching out for your hand. you let out a soft laugh. the nerve to ask that question while he looks like that.

“you’re pretty,” you reply, taking his hand with a reassuring squeeze.

⋆˚꩜｡ blueberry pancake latte – with osamu .₊˚⊹ ᰔ

⛾ a hearty breakfast before viewing the wintersweet trees ↠ matsuda ⛾ instrumental┊say it (over and over again) – masayoshi takanaka ⛾ drink notes: the otherwise overt sweetness is balanced by the light roast’s smooth profile.

you nearly laugh at the amount of bags that osamu is holding when you walk into onigiri miya. “it’ll be a long ride to kanagawa, i’m just prepared!” he says defensively. “and yer always complainin’ thatcha get hungry on trips!” “i know, i know,” you say, patting his bicep and taking one of the three plastic bags hanging off his elbow. “thank you. i love you.” 

osamu sighs affectionately as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. “i love you, too,” he replies, pulling you in by the waist. you tilt your head towards the entrance. “why is our wedding photo on the door, though?” he makes a face. “‘cause that’s why we’re closed?” you pinch his cheek. “you’re so sappy.” “not sappy if it’s the truth,” he insists. “why’re ya rollin’ up yer sleeves?”

“i’m gonna make us pancakes before we go,” you tell him, holding up a basket. “and i got blueberries from the neighbor before i left.” “aw, yer gonna make lil’ ole me blueberry pancakes?” osamu asks, shyly tucking a short strand of his hair behind his ear. you roll your eyes playfully, taking out a bag of flour. “yes, i’m gonna make lil’ ole you blueberry pancakes.” 

osamu hopes he makes it abundantly clear, whether verbally or through his actions, that he loves you, because he does. he leans over the counter, watching you make him breakfast with a lovesick expression. 

“love ya,” he calls, chin resting in his hand. “love ya back,” you sing-song in reply, and his heart melts.

°❀⋆ orange blossom matcha – with shoyo .ೃ࿔*:･

☼ a morning at home after the summer rain ↠ são paulo ☼ me dê a mão, vamos sair pra ver o sol┊estrada do sol – antonio carlos jobim  ☼ drink notes: the orange fragrance sits lightly over the creamy base of milk and matcha.

february in brazil means peak summer and carnaval in full swing. it’s busy, it’s hot, and it’s rainy. a thunderstorm washed over the day before, bringing in some respite from the normally sweltering heat. the city bustles below as you stir, and the windchimes sing their morning melody from the open window. the small space fan creaks and hums as you pad across the wood floor.

you greet shoyo in the kitchen with a pet on the nape of his neck, smoothing down light baby hairs that grow up into the golden tousled strands you know so dearly. your pinky catches onto the chain of the necklace you gave him, which has been worn by him so much there’s a faint tan line.

shoyo turns to pass you an orange wedge, a fresh breeze blowing through and ruffling his hair. you take a bite, and immediately giggle. “your hands are sandy, sho,” you tell him, covering your mouth. “oh no, can you taste it?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“try one,” you say. shoyo complies, tossing a slice in his mouth, and it crunches much more than a juicy orange should. “aw, it is sandy,” he groans. “how do you have sand on you already? you just woke up,” you say, resting your chin on his shoulder.  “i was cleaning off your board so we can go to maresias later,” he replies, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “it should be warm and calm today.” 

you kiss shoyo through a smile. he tastes like sunscreen and citrus. “we’ll go out and relax, then.”

ִֶָ𖧷₊˚˖ strawberry mocha latte – with kei .𓍢ִִ✧˚.

☃ a wintry evening in his apartment ↠ sendai ☃ 回る世界であの娘と / 夜通し踊り続けたい ┊words of love – lamp ☃ drink notes: reminiscent of melted strawberry ice cream and chocolate with a bitter tug of espresso.

kei kicks off his shoes in the genkan of his apartment and wearily flicks on the lights. it’s quiet, save for his shuffling around the house as he gets things ready for your date tonight. the plan is to indulge in chocolate covered strawberries and liquor. 

the microwave hums as kei leans on the countertop to wait for the chocolate to melt. he cracks open the window, cool air brushing his skin. the city sparkles underneath, full of people with their own valentine agenda. it’s odd to think that you’re one of them. 

twenty minutes later, he hears the familiar jingle of your keys at his door, bumping erratically as always. kei opens the door with a smirk, watching as you stumble in with a plastic bag. “i got the kahlua and vodka,” you tell him, breathless. 

“i have the chocolate and the strawberries ready,” he replies, taking the bag from you. he holds out an arm for you to stabilize yourself as you wrench your shoes off. “we can drizzle the toppings later.” 

you grin at him as you straighten up, and he leans down to meet you in a welcoming kiss. “ugh, you ate some without me,” you complain, licking your lips. “just one. to taste,” kei replies, a complacent smile on his face.

“we should head in now.. grab a shower before heading out,” you’d mention, legs wrapped in his, heat radiating off the both of you.

he runs his hands through his hair tiredly as he leans his elbows on the kitchen counter. “like you wouldn’t believe.” you frown, and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “there’s leftovers in the fridge. i’ll make you a bath while you eat?” you ask, patting his hip. 

hajime groans softly, his hands on his face. “that sounds great,” he murmurs. “sorry i came home late again.” “s’okay,” you assure him, rubbing his back. “i’ll wash your hair, too.”

you sit outside of the bathtub on a stool, lathering his shampoo in your hands as he leans his head back. “lean forward just a bit, my love,” you urge. he complies, letting you run your fingers through his hair in a comfortable silence.

he takes a deep, ragged breath as your hands move to massage the knots in his back and shoulders. you furrow your brows in concern. “does that hurt?” you can see the bump of his spine as he leans his head forward. “no,” he mumbles, and he relaxes, letting out a shuddering exhale. “no. feels nice.”

your anatomy exam is coming up, and you’ve been studying like your career depends on it (spoiler alert: it does), but you’ve been going batshit crazy just staring at your notes. so what better way to get off the books than to hang out with your boyfriend? 

“yes,” you reply, placing ‘pectoralis major’ on his chest. “it wouldn’t work the same if you had a shirt on. active recall, visual learning, and such.” “right,” he mutters, brow furrowed as he watches you. “so…?” “so, flex your deltoid,” you demand. “c’mon, haji. this is important.” he flexes his shoulder obediently, looking away as you stick another label on his body. 

you’re kind of surprised hajime agreed to this in the first place; though honestly, you really didn’t give him much of an explanation, simply texting him, “come to my dorm @ 10pm,” with no further instructions. you laughed when he called at 9:42 saying he was at the building, having to hold it in as you led your bright-eyed boyfriend into your room.

“you will be to blame if i don’t pass this,” you tell him, revelling in the slight twitch of his body as you slide a finger over his skin to pat down the adhesive. “right. can’t have that,” he says under his breath. you snicker. despite his reluctance, he’s not angry. maybe just disappointed. you’re not worried, though. he’d get what he came for soon enough.

sneaking a glance at him, you quickly scribble ‘teres minor’ on another scrap of tape. hajime’s ears are bright red, but his bottom lip is pursed up and his jaw is tight. tell-tale signs of his enjoyment. 

“i know you’re a little embarrassed, but i need you to lift your arm up for me,” you tell him sweetly, tape hanging from your fingertips. hajime lets out a flustered grumble in reply, dim light highlighting hard planes of muscle as he accedes. 

“it’s kind of itchy,” he says, after a moment. “well, it’s tape,” you answer matter-of-factly, pasting ‘frontalis’ on his forehead, then look at him doubtfully. “also, you need to stop scowling. you look cute when you’re not scowling.” “‘m not scowling,” hajime says under his breath, but his eyebrows relax immediately. you bite the inside of your cheek. cute.

another couple minutes pass by as you continue to stick labels on him, humming a tune while you treat your poor boyfriend like a whiteboard. 

“...how long will this take?” hajime asks, stiffly, two pieces of tape hanging off the hollows of his cheekbones. you stretch out, making a big show of checking the clock on the wall. it’s almost midnight. “i’m basically done,” you reply. “i’m not going over the accessory muscles.” 

hajime tilts his head, narrowing his eyes knowingly at you. “yeah, just wanna know, so i’m not peeling gemellus inferior out of my butt tomorrow,” he remarks wryly. you mirror his expression, enthused. “hah. i forgot you know this already.” 

hajime pinches your inner thigh playfully. it doesn’t hurt—he could never hurt you—but you yelp anyway, more tickled than anything. “hey, i’m pretty smart, you know,” he reminds you, smoothing over the subtle sting with a callused thumb. 

you scoot over towards him, running your hand down the label reading ‘rectus femoris.’ “i know you’re pretty smart,” you say, gaze locked on his, “otherwise i wouldn’t allow you to be sitting shirtless on my floor.” you pull, and the screech of tape being taken off skin is the only sound in the room for a second.

the sudden dilation of his pupils makes you laugh through your nose. “oh, that’s all,” hajime says lightly, body hot under your touch. “because i’m smart.” “and muscular,” you add, leaning over him as he sits back on his forearms, watching you intently. “mm, that’s part of it?” he asks, voice just breathless enough to make your stomach tighten.

“yeah,” you murmur, hooking a fingernail under ‘external oblique.’ your eyes drop to his bare chest, then drag back up to his face as you smile. “do you take a makeout session as gratuity for your model work?” 

hajime swallows, his jaw fluttering. a blush blooms over his cheeks and he rolls his eyes. “that’s what i thought you called me here for,”  he mumbles, warm hand coming up to rest on the curve of your lower back as you giggle. “c’mere.”

he peppers your face with soft kisses, leaving wet marks. your laughter fills the small room when you feel something sticky on your cheek. 

“haji, i can’t take you serious with that stuff on your face!” “take it off, then!”

FILE 1 : H. IWAIZUMI

07.17.24 : late nights are for loving him 08.08.24 : three magic words are all it takes to break him 06.25.25 : he's a different kind of person when it's you 04.05.26 : your boyfriend is a baby whisperer 06.04.26 : you invite him for a tactile study session

FILE 2 : O. MIYA

07.21.24 : late july's heat won't stop him from cuddling with you 05.11.25 : a midsummer night's complaint 02.09.26 : the good, the bad, and the gross

FILE 3 : T. KUROO

05.26.25 : you let go of what was embedded in your entire being 07.08.25 : no one can make desperate look cool 01.20.26 : how do you spell his name, again?

AUTOSAVE

07.24.24 ft. k. akaashi : just don't check underneath the floorboards 10.13.25 ft. s. kita : he's a bit of a tease sometimes 11.04.25 ft. s. kita : he loves you most ardently 02.04.26 ft. k. tsukishima : his love is a compact disc 04.02.26 ft. e. semi : let's make it jazz-rock fusion

MEMORY CARD

filipino!iwaizumi headcanons + pt.2 gym rat hajime random iwaizumi headcanons filipino!kuroo headcanons

want more? check out the DLC

and that's also when you come back from the city.

your grandmother’s house sits right beside his field, old wooden porch facing the rows of crops. every year, right when the heat starts getting unbearable, you arrive from the city with your little suitcase and your loud mouth and those stupid sundresses that make kita forget what he’s doing for a solid three seconds.

he doesn’t know exactly when he started noticing you so much.

maybe it was three summers ago when you came back after graduating college, sitting on your grandma’s porch railing with your legs swinging lazily while watching the sunset. right in front of his field.

Nobody would ever expect it, hell he doesn’t even expect it.

All it took was one little, “I think you’d look hot with an eyebrow piercing,” paired with a slow bat of your lashes.

Now he’s sitting on a piercing bed, gripping your hand like they’re going to shoot him in the head.

“This is so fucking stupid,” he grumbles, eyebrows pinched together as the piercer finishes setting up across the room.

“You don’t have to do it you know” you laugh, your other hand rubbing slow circles on his thigh to calm his nerves.

He shoots you a flat look immediately, “Shut up”

That only makes you laugh harder, “What the hell did I do?”

His jaw tightens, ears faintly pink now, “You sat there batting those pretty little lashes at me saying I’d look hot,” he mutters, like this is somehow a perfectly reasonable explanation, “Now I have to do it.”

You crinkle your nose at him, your soft little smile soothing the nervous knot in his stomach, “Haji, you’re literally a grown man. You can do whatever you want.”

“And I want to make you happy, sue me” he shoots back instantly.

The words hit harder than they should. The way he says it so casually, so matter-of-fact.

Like your happiness is the easiest thing in the world to prioritize.

You can’t help the fond grin that pulls at your lips, or the warmth that blooms across your face.

Iwa notices immediately, of course he does.

He playfully rolls his eyes, his own little smile tugging at his lips now, “Quit lookin at me like that, you’re making me more nervous now”

You grin, thumb brushing over his knuckles, “You’re so ridiculous.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, peppering tiny little kisses all over it just as the piercer walks back over and starts setting things down beside him.

“God,” he mumbles against your skin, “you’re so lucky I love you this much.”

Your smile only grows as you huff out a little laugh, “You’re gonna look so hot”

He goes completely silent.

Then, after a beat,

“…Yeah?”

————————————————————————

A/N: this was so stupid he’d look so delicious with an eyebrow piercing tho

— “here, give her to me—” 

hajime takes your niece from you as you wrangle your bag, your plate of food, and your drink. “hi, bub, c’mere,” he coos, tossing her a bit in his arms. hajime’s forearms flex as he shifts the baby to lean on his shoulder. “you okay? need me to hold anything else?”

your jaw clenches imperceptibly as you zero in on the size of his hands. they’re nearly enveloping your niece’s chubby legs as she rests her little head on hajime’s chest. “yeah, i’m…good,” you reply after a moment, sipping your drink nonchalantly.

oh, my god.

it’s unfortunate, how much babies love your boyfriend, because he looks so damn good with them. it doesn’t help that your nieces, nephews, and younger cousins all love him, either. hajime is adored by your family so dearly it’s knee-wobbling. you swear they like him more than they like you sometimes.

the sound of your niece’s joyous squeal disturbs your pondering. hajime is tickling her exposed tummy with a callused finger, smiling widely as she laughs. “babe, eat,” he urges you, taking notice of your incessant staring. “i’m still kinda full from this morning, haji,” you admit, setting down your cup and walking closer to him. “have a bite?”

“oh, sure,” hajime replies, leaning down a bit. you feed him a spoonful of pancit palabok, watching as he takes it with exaggerated pleasure and looks at your niece in surprise. “mm, so yummy!” he exclaims at her, and she giggles, slapping her tiny hands all over his ears and face as he chews. hajime turns back to you with a gentle smile. “it’s pretty good.”

“you’re pretty good,” you reply, an underlying tug of desire in your voice as you squish your niece’s dumpling-like cheek between your thumb and forefinger. “she loves you.” 

hajime’s expression of genuine surprise makes you snicker. “really?” “they all do,” you affirm honestly. “my cousins are always asking ‘is kuya hajime here too?’” you shake your head. “and i tell them, ‘no, it’s just me this time,’ and they get all pouty.” hajime laughs, pulling down your niece’s shirt over her stomach. “it’s just ‘cause i play sports with them, is all,” he replies modestly.

is all. you slap his arm with no real heat. “haji, you’re like their hero. seriously.” your niece lets out a trill of laughter, almost in confirmation. “trade,” you order, handing him your plate. he complies, dipping down to pass the baby off to you. 

she whines in protest at this, nuzzling her head into the curve of hajime’s neck and grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt. “ugh, you see?” you remark, chuckling. “she doesn’t want to go with me.” “c’mon, bebe, go to your tita,” hajime coaxes, but your niece won’t listen, not even sparing you a glance. you take back your plate and wave a hand amusedly. “it’s fine, i need to go greet my lola anyway,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep as you turn to leave.

“alright, i’ll get food later. tell her to save some for me, yeah?” hajime asks, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he straightens up. “i’m gonna walk the baby around for a bit.” with that, he strolls around the yard with her, laughing and chatting with your family easily. you pause, watching the two of them fondly, then pick up your drink and head back to the kitchen.