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oikawa ; talks with his hand. always moving them. even does that thing where he throws his arm across the passenger seat when backing up. doesnât realize it, but half the time youâre watching his hands instead of listening to what heâs saying.
iwaizumi ; never lets anyone do anything if he can help it. could be something like undoing the net at the end of practice, or grabbing extra tissues at a restaurant. if he is able to, heâs going to do it himself. even if its from a âif you want it done right, do it yourselfâ way of thinking, its still attractive how polite and otherwise selfless he is.
matsukawa ; texts back in voice memos. mentioned this in my mattsun hc post, but he basically never types. always sends long ass one to two minute voice messages, and half of it is just him thinking about what he was going to say.
hanamaki ; remembers your playlist order. heâll ask you why you switched your number three and number five song like its the normalest thing in the world, and will go âfixâ it himself instead of waiting for an answer.
kyotani ; follows the sidewalk rule. used to do it because he believed it was his âjobâ as a man, or as an elder brother and cousin, but ended up doing it so much that he does it with every single person. if they dont automatically follow what heâs doing, heâll physically move them to the other side wordlessly.
yahaba ; always reads the instructions. he has to read the instructions out loud, then explain them, even if no one asked.itâs endearing in a control freak kind of way. that one person you know will always know what theyre doing, even if he doesnt like it.
kunimi ; falls asleep within seconds. youâll get up to use the bathroom and heâll wake up, have a full, conscious, conversation with you about what youre going to have for breakfast, and be asleep before you can even get to the door.
kindaichi ; checks if your cold. just sort of looks at you, then shrugs off his jacket and drops it in your lap without a word. acts like he didnât even notice you were shivering. if you try to give it back, heâll just shake his head and mumble something about how you probably need it more.
watari ; always sits on the floor. no matter where he is. within reason, of course. will not do this in a formal event. says it helps him stretch, but you know its because he wants someone else who needs it more to have it.
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Aoba Johsaiâs volleyball team was many thingsâtalented, competitive, and, above all, nosy. But when it came to you, their manager, they had collectively accepted one simple fact: you lived in oversized, comfortable clothing.
Baggy sweatpants, hoodies, loose athletic shirtsâif it wasnât designed for maximum comfort, you didnât wear it. Even during official team meetings outside of school, you opted for relaxed attire: a sweatshirt over leggings, sneakers, and maybe a jacket if it was cold. It wasnât that you disliked fashion, exactly. You just didnât see the need to dress up for them.
So when you casually mentioned you had to leave practice early for a family event, no one thought much of it.
"Skipping out on us?" Oikawa teased, tossing a volleyball in the air as you packed up your clipboard. "And here I thought we were your favorite people in the world."
"Youâre absolutely not," you deadpanned, adjusting the strap on your bag.
"Whatâs the occasion?" Iwaizumi asked, more genuinely curious.
"Wedding," you muttered. "Family thing. My parents are making me go."
"Something like that," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "Theyâre making me wear this stupid dress. Itâs all tight and uncomfortable, and the shoes are even worse. Who the hell decided that formalwear should be painful?"
Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. "Whatâs it look like?"
You groaned, already dreading the memory of trying it on. "Itâs one of those straight-jacket ones that make you feel like you canât breathe. Apparently, looking âput togetherâ is more important than basic human comfort. I swear, my mom picked this just to torture me."
"Sounds fancy," Watari mused.
"Sounds awful," you corrected. "Iâm gonna suffer through this thing and then burn it the second I get home."
"Bet youâll look nice, though," Kindaichi added hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck.
You gave him a deadpan look. "If you call suffering looking nice, sure. Anyway, Iâll see you guys at the next practice. Donât destroy the gym while Iâm gone."
"No promises!" Hanamaki called as you walked off.
That was the end of it.
Practice was still in full swing when you stepped back into the gym, freshly changed and already regretting every single life choice that had led you to this moment. You had only come back because youâd stupidly left your phone on the bench, a mistake that now seemed far worse than just being phoneless for a few hours. The team was scattered across the court, finishing up drills and cooldowns, their chatter filling the space as they moved around. You had hopedâprayed, evenâthat you could slip in, grab your phone, and leave unnoticed. But fate, as always, was cruel.
Then you stepped forward.
And the entire gym stopped dead in its tracks.
Oikawa, who had been mid-sentence, visibly choked. His water bottle slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
"Holy shit," Matsukawa whispered, not even trying to be subtle.
Iwaizumi, caught off guard, blinked hard, as if his brain needed an extra second to process what was happening. Yahaba, who had been chatting with Kunimi, turned so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, mouth opening but no words coming out. Kunimi, usually too lazy to react to anything, actually paused, his usual indifferent stare slightly wider than normal.
Even Kyotani, who rarely paid attention to anything that wasnât volleyball or fighting, furrowed his brows, looking between you and the rest of the team like he had just walked into some elaborate prank. After a long pause, he finally muttered, "Why do you look like that?"
You shifted uncomfortably, hating every second of this. "My God. Can you guys stop staring?"
"We canât," Watari blurted, sounding just as shocked as the rest.
Because, for the first time since they had met you, you werenât wearing your usual baggy, oversized clothing. You werenât hidden under loose layers of fabric that swallowed your frame. No, today, you had been dressed by your mother, which meant you were in something far more⊠put together.
The dress was sleek and form-fitting, something you never would have picked for yourself. The fabric hugged your silhouette in a way that felt unfamiliar, and you had spent the entire night feeling like you were playing dress-up in someone elseâs clothes. To make matters worse, your mother had insisted on makeupâsubtle, but noticeable enough to make you feel even less like yourself. The heels were even worseâunsteady, impractical, and making you curse whoever thought fancy shoes should hurt.
"Whyâhowâwhat?!" Kindaichi, who had been stretching, nearly tipped over from shock.
"Is that you?" Hanamaki added, pointing unnecessarily.
"No," you deadpanned. "Iâm an imposter. The real me is at the wedding, plotting my escape."
"Hahâseriously, though! You clean up nice," Matsukawa mused, looking you up and down with a smirk. "Didnât know you had it in you."
"No one did," Yahaba muttered, still looking at you like you had just shapeshifted before his eyes. "What the hell."
"I donât," you grumbled, adjusting the hem of the dress uncomfortably. "My parents picked this out. Not my choice."
"Your parents should pick your outfits more often," Oikawa said before immediately ducking as Iwaizumi chucked a towel at his head.
Kunimi let out a short exhale. "So thatâs what was under all those sweatpants. Huh."
Kyotani just grunted, arms crossed. "Tch. Whatever. Doesnât change anything." But the way he kept glancing at you said otherwise.
"And thatâs why I dress the way I do," you huffed.
Sensing your growing discomfort, Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand down his face. "Alright, thatâs enough. Stop freaking out."
"I am freaking out," Oikawa retorted. "This is earth-shattering news."
"Youâre an idiot," Iwaizumi muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You love me," Oikawa shot back, undeterred.
"I donât," Iwaizumi deadpanned.
You exhaled, already exhausted. "Okay, Iâm leaving now. If anyone makes another comment, I swear Iâm quitting this team."
"No, wait!" Oikawa called. "Just one pictureâ"
You shot him a withering glare that promised pain if he continued that sentence. He wisely shut up.
With that, you turned on your heel and left, still muttering under your breath about hating dresses, hating heels, and how you were never letting your mother pick your outfits again. Behind you, the team was still buzzing, voices overlapping as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Matsukawa let out a low whistle. "Damn. Weâre never gonna see that again, are we?"
"Nope," Hanamaki sighed. "Shouldâve taken that picture."
"So we had a hot manager this whole time?" Yahaba muttered, still looking at where you stood like he was processing a cosmic revelation.
Oikawa, arms crossed, hummed thoughtfully. "Iwa-chan, do you think we could convince her to dress up again?"
