WARNINGS: Sexual assault, victim blaming, body image issues, implied rape
I have once again been woken at an unholy hour so guess I'll binge write some song fic ideas I've had. I know Strawberry Shortcake is about being objectified as women, but athletes are also objectified a hell of a lot, and are very likely to be sexually harassed, so I think it could stretch over.
Song is Strawberry Shortcake by Melanie Martinez
Feeling unsure of my naked body
Stand back, watch it taking shape
Wondering why I don't look like Barbie
They say boys like a girl with a tiny waist
The Black Jackals locker room was much quieter than normal, and part of Atsumu wanted to speak up and break the silence that he hated oh-so-much, but a larger part, the part in control of his body instead of just his thoughts, couldn't draw attention to himself, attention to his too-narrow shoulders, too-big waist, not-muscular-enough legs (Osamu would tell him that he's being stupid, that he looked fine and his fans wouldn't care about any "imperfections," and then would bring him some fatty tuna and distract him for the night. As much as that sounded perfect, the care and comfort of his twin brother, who was there for all of his adolescent insecurities, he couldn't reach out. He didn't know why, there was some mental block stopping him).
Now, my mama's preaching to make sure I'm pure
But, I never really cared 'bout this shit before
Look around the room to whoever wants me
A few weeks ago, just a month ago, he would go onto fan pages or out to some bar to feel better, revelling in the compliments and come-ons. He couldn't now, not after...
Got boys acting like they ain't seen skin before
Got sent home to change 'cause my skirt is too short
He changed into one of his biggest hoodies, which he'd been living in for the past week, since they didn't have practice. He couldn't even look at his tighter tee shirts yet, not without feeling guilt and depression gnawing away at him.
It's my fault, it's my fault 'cause I put icing on top
Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake
That's my bad, that's my bad, no one told them not to grab
Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake
He didn't know why he was so upset, he had no right to be, he went out hoping people would hit on him, hoping they might want to make out a bit, so why was it so much of a problem when that guy went further? He shouldn't be, he needed to stop. He left the locker room with a huff, heading back to his apartment to shower (he hadn't showered in public since the incident).
Gotta make sure that my legs are shiny
Hot wax melting, burn my skin
People all around me are watching closely
'Cause it's how I look and not what I think
Mikey's eyes seem to be glued to her chest
So I'm stuffing my bra so that mine look the best
He got back to the apartment he shared with Sakusa (once the man joined the team, they decided that it'd be easier to share the apartment and rent until they made enough to afford their own. They technically could now, but they were so used to living with each other that they hadn't bothered to make another arrangement) while it was still empty, going straight to his room and grabbing a towel before getting into the shower.
He noticed as he undressed that his legs had gotten stubbly again, he hadn't shaved in awhile, hadn't even showered since that night on the bar (it may be unhygienic but he could barely drag himself out of bed) but he was too weary to do so now so he just turned the shower scalding and stepped in while it was still cold, hoping to shock himself out of this funk. It didn't work, in fact, all that happened was the water got warmer on his skin, reminding him of a cold night and warm hands surrounding him that he couldn't break away from...
It's my fault, it's my fault, 'cause I put icing on top
Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake
That's my bad, that's my bad, no one told them not to grab
Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake
He didn't remember getting out, but he must've because he was now on the floor, the shower still on. He registered a sobbing, a few aborted screams, that must've come from himself. He felt phantom touches that he couldn't get away from; lips on his neck, a thigh between his, hands in his hair, teeth biting his torso, it was all too much. He barely heard the frantic knock, but had barely enough presence of mind to recognize it as help, and he let out another sob.
Instead of making me feel bad for the body I've got
Just teach him to keep it in his pants and tell him to stop
Sakusa burst in the bathroom, taking in the sight before him with concern. Atsumu hadn't told him what happened, hadn't told anyone, but he could guess. Why else would the man come in the next morning, slightly limping but miserable with hickies dotting his neck and torso, startled by his own shadow and shying away from the touch he usually revelled in. He knew it wouldn't be long before it hit the blond, before he broke down, and he knew it was a necessary part of healing, but that didn't make it easier to witness.
He rushed back to grab a towel, as Atsumu was sitting on the one he had brought in and he doubted moving would be very helpful. He took the biggest and fluffiest they had, usually used when his germaphobia got the best of him and he had his own shower breakdowns, and ran back to wrap it around Atsumu, giving soft reassurances the whole time.
"I'm gonna put this on you, okay? I won't even touch you, just through the towel, I promise, nod if that's okay? Good, good, thank you. You know it wasn't your fault? He was a dickbag and never should've done that, it's his fault and only his, it's okay," on and on at the shaking man until he was relatively calm. Once he was, he left without a word, closing the door and standing outside to make sure Atsumu wouldn't break again, only leaving once he heard footsteps approach it.
The blond came out in another hoodie and sweatpants, curling up on the couch like normal, but the shadows behind his eyes were just ever so lessened. Sakusa sighed, hoping the man would learn to take help better so he could recover from that, but for now he just focused on making dinner.
It's my fault, it's my fault, 'cause I put icing on top
Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake
That's my bad, that's my bad, no one told them not to grab
Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake
[A/N: Just a reminder, Atsumu in this is an unreliable narrator, sexual assault is never the fault of the victim. No matter what they were wearing, how they were acting, how much they drank, or anything else, it is only the fault of the perpetrator. Based loosely on my own sexual assault experience, though mine was also quite different, so please be kind!]
