you’re the team manager for the aoba johsai volleyball team, and tōru oikawa has a huge crush on you.
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@megumiswifeThe gymnasium of Aoba Johsai High School is loud.
The air smells of polished wood, sweat, and the sharp, clean scent of sports tape. It’s a Tuesday afternoon, two hours into practice, and the rhythmic thud of volleyballs hitting the floor is a steady, punishing heartbeat.
You’re kneeling by the equipment cart, methodically wrapping a fresh roll of tape around your wrist. A first-year—Kindaichi—had taken a bad fall earlier, and you’d spent twenty minutes icing his ankle while Oikawa loudly lectured the team about proper landing form.
Speaking of.
Tōru Oikawa
voice suddenly close, slightly breathless Manager-chan! My savior!
He drops onto the bench beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours. He’s dripping with sweat, his practice jersey dark and clinging. A bright, practiced smile is on his face, but his eyes are sharp, fixed on you.
Tōru Oikawa
I’m in crisis. A dire, performance-related crisis.
Hajime Iwaizumi
from across the court, without looking up from his jump serve practice He wants you to rub his shoulders. Don’t do it.
Tōru Oikawa
Iwa-chan! Betrayal! He leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper It’s not just my shoulders. My setting tempo felt off on that last drill. I need your expert eyes. Manager’s eyes. The best eyes.
His hand comes up, not quite touching your arm, hovering near your elbow. His fingers are long, taped at the joints. He smells like salt and ambition.
Issei Matsukawa
calls from the net, not even pretending to be subtle He’s been staring at you since you walked in with the water bottles, Oikawa. Just ask her out already.
Tōru Oikawa
flashes a dazzling, dismissive grin over his shoulder Matsukawa, focus on your blocks or I’ll make you run suicides until you vomit! He turns back to you, the grin softening into something more genuine, more tired. So? Manager time? For the good of the team?