The Accident Part VIII
Atsumu x fem reader
Warnings: None
Words: ~ 2k
About: You finally meet your good friend <3
Part I II -> Next part
"You know each other?!"
You stare at Atsumu with wide eyes, who just stares at the short blonde next to you and raises his eyebrows as if he just had an epiphany.
"Where have I—wait. Karasuno. Karasuno's manager! You're a friend of Shoyo-kun!" Atsumu's eyes shine when he talks about Karasuno, and you furrow your brows when you remember that it's the name of Yachi's old school. "Shoyo-kun? Like—Hinata Shoyo?" You ask, recalling a bright orange-haired man you've met a few times already when Yachi had invited you to drink with her and her friends. They had always been a lively bunch, definitely growing on you the more often you saw them.
"Hmm, we work together," Atsumu nods, and you blankly stare at him while you try to digest that piece of information. You know that Hinata is a professional volleyball player. Very professional. Olympics level professional. He offered you cards to his games quite a few times, and you had politely declined, not wanting to cause him trouble, but he had sent you tickets anyway for a game in a few weeks.
That probably means that Atsumu is a professional player too—or he might be some kind of manager, according to the vague statement that they are working together. His physique and his posture tell you that he potentially could be an athlete- you would believe that in a second.
"Working together like... playing volleyball too?" You ask for clarification, tilting your head curiously while you watch his reaction. His lips curl into a smug smile, and the confidence he's radiating now makes your legs turn into jelly.
"Yeah. I'm a professional, just like Shoyo-kun. He loves my sets, by the way. Always aces them with no problem."
His eyes capture yours and you hang on his every word, definitely surprised by the development. You're married to a probably very famous professional Olympia volleyball player. You're not even sure what to think about this; the new details just made the whole situation more absurd and unrealistic. The only good thing is that Yachi apparently knows him. You could maybe get more information out of Yachi about him later.
"I—wait. The marriage—you married ATSUMU MIYA?" Your attention shifts to Yachi, who turns almost worryingly red, and you quickly step closer to her and reach for her arm, trying to calm her down. "Yes, but it's okay. He's a good guy, okay?" You smile encouragingly, and Yachi takes a few hasty loud breaths before she nods.
Atsumu watches you both and awkwardly clears his throat, a faint blush covering his cheeks at your words, and rubs the back of his head. "I'll leave ya two alone then. I'll call ya, y/n."
The last thing you see is his smile before he turns around and walks away with his hands in his pockets now. His broad back is evident, especially when he's wearing the white dress shirt, and you can't help but admire the man for a second before Yachi enters your sight once again.
"Y/n! - what happened?!"
xxx
"I can't believe you're married to Atsumu Miya!" she exclaims, still sounding shocked as she repeats the same sentence for the third time after you managed to tell her the fully story during the car ride. Both of you sit on her comfortable plush couch, adorned with a few of her stylish designer blankets. You're glad to be in a familiar place finally, but you can't help but to think about Atsumu. Will he call or leave a message soon? You wouldn't mind him calling today already- just to make sure you have his number. Nothing else. Just to clear that whole marriage thing. And nothing else.
You nod with a mild smile an attempt to calm her slight panic. Atsumu has assured you that everything will be taken care of, and you find yourself actually trusting him. "It'll be okay. You mentioned he's a good guy, right? I mean, he's friends with Hinata."
Yachi deeply inhales and takes a sip of her tea and nods. "He's close to Hinata. They get along really well. But let me tell you, Atsumu Miya in high school is something else. His serves were powerful and terrifying- not as much as today, but still enough to keep us all on the edge. Even Nishinoya had a hard time receiving them. Atsumu-san and Osamu-san managed to copy Hinata's and Kageyama's special attack effortlessly. It was insane. Maybe we can find a recording of it."
She grabs the remote to turn on the TV, and you lean forward eagerly at the thought of seeing more of Atsumu. "I wonder what Atsumu looked like in high school," you muse, taking a sip of your tea, its slight bitterness complementing the rich flavor. "He basically still looks the same. His hair got a bit brighter, and I think he grew a bit. And gained mass," Yachi responds, finding what she's looking for with an excited squeal. "Here!"
You both watch how a much younger Atsumu raises his arm and much to your surprise the whole crowd falls silent. "What- that's not normal, is it?" You turn to Yachi who seems slightly pale, probably because she remembers the moment vividly. "That's normal for Atsumu Miya. He was so good and popular that he got that special treatment. It helps him to focus. Oh, and watch his steps! You can tell what kind of serve he's going to make by the number of his steps."
You diligently nod and watch him serve again, taking six steps this time. The camera angle is a tad bit closer this time, and you don't fail to see his yellow-ish hair that definitely looks different compared to his looks today. He was very fit, even back then, but he is definitely more buff today.
You watch some more of Atsumu's powerful serves, his form screaming utmost perfection, and memories of the very same strong, muscular arms wrapped around you make heat rush to your cheeks. Yachi continues to share insights about his playing style, and you quickly try to focus on her words.
"...their combined attacks are difficult to anticipate. But look at how Kei blocks it!" You nod enthusiastically while you observe Tsukishima's impressive block. The video then shifts to another game, showcasing Atsumu in a black uniform adorned with yellow claw prints on his sleeves.
"Oh, that's from the MSBY game! You should have seen him; there's this amazing set—" Yachi's words trail off as the camera cuts to an unusual angle, revealing Atsumu's impressive thighs in full glory as he sets the ball with a ridiculously seductive smile. Your jaw drops at the unexpected sight- you know for sure you would have fainted if you saw that scene in live. How dare he look so good while setting the ball?? "Look, Hinata easily managed to hit that! And there's Bokuto-san!" You recognize the orange-haired spiker, sharing a smile and high-five with Bokuto. "I can't believe that they all actually know each other."
"Yeah," Yachi smiles and nods. "Hinata always talks about Atsumu-san. And Bokuto-san is close with Osamu-san, I think. I've seen him post a few pictures with Akaashi-san at Onigiri-Miya."
"Is that the name of his restaurant? Atsumu said he would take me there someday." Yachi gives you a side-eye, and reaches for her phone. "You've gotten pretty close, haven't you? You seemed really flustered when-" You quickly interrupt her, "No! I—I don't even know him. I don't even have his number. He was just being nice, we're not really close."
Yachi nods with a small grin, and hands you her phone. "Here. That's his Instagram. He's also often at Onigiri Miya. It seems like he's very proud of his brother's success. I though you might want to have a look at his life."
"Thank you." Yachi is truly a great friend, and you feel once again fond of being close to her. As you scroll through Atsumu's Instagram, you find a mix of game snapshots, some pictures with Osamu, in which he always has a plate full of food in front of him, and you can't help but zoom into the plates, impressed by the neatly arranged dishes. As you keep on scrolling, you almost gasp loudly when you find a very surprising collaboration with Calvin Klein, featuring a shirtless Atsumu from a very close perspective. At first, you keep on scrolling, too flustered at the sudden revealing picture, but curiosity makes you go back after a few moments, and you look at the picture again.
He looks good. His muscles are well-defined and he grins seductively for the camera while he poses, clad in only a ripped pair of jeans. It's almost unfair how ridiculously attractive he looks, but you still think that he looks even better when he's just woken up, just like he did this morning. You exhale loudly and curiously click on the comments.
"I would pay real money to have him like this in my bed."
"Christmas came early this year- and so did I."
"Bless the Miya genes. I'd gladly help to spread them."
"Thank you Calvin Klein. I'll make sure to get a pair of these pants."
"*FAINTS* HE'S SO HOT, I CAN'T-"
You're startled when you notice how the comments get even more unhinged and shameless as you keep on scrolling. "He... has a lot of fans," you remark, scrolling back to the top and handing Yachi her phone back, to which she nods heavily. "He had his own fan club in high school, and ever since the Japanese team won the Olympics, the whole team has been very popular. Especially Atsumu-san and Sakusa-san."
You hesitate before asking the next question, uncertain of what the answer might bring. "Is there a reason why he's single? He seems like a decent guy, looks good, and he's probably rich. Isn't he the perfect catch?"
Yachi furrows her brows, thinking. "I don't know, actually. It's probably the same as with Hinata and Kageyama. They focus a lot on their careers; they simply don't have time for dating. I also found out that most volleyball boys can be a bit... intense. It's probably hard to find a partner that understands their passion. They prioritize training over anything else. I've never seen Hinata skip a day of training, no matter what happens. Their partners must accept that they put a lot of their energy and time into their jobs."
"Ah," you simply nod, slightly surprised by the revelation. You would have assumed that they have a very lively dating life, but it seems like they just live for work. Sounds a bit lonely.
"I also think that some fans are a bit obsessed with their private lives. There was an incident before with Atsumu-san and one of their fans- but things have calmed down lately, so you should be fine." Yachi reassures you, reaching for a cookie on the couch table.
"I think that—" she is interrupted by the sudden sound of a ringing phone, and both of you exchange confused glances before realizing it's your phone. Yachi's eyes light up, and she squeals, "Maybe it's him—I mean, I could have gotten his number through Hinata, but maybe he's got some news—"
You fumble with the phone, the unknown number undoubtedly belonging to Atsumu. Taking a deep breath, you nod at her and hold the phone to your ear, answering the call with a simple,
"Hello?"
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CATCH ME IF YOU CAN
YOU CAN'T FATHOM THAT
REACH BUT NEVER CATCH
[ I'm really really proud of how this came out ]
this was TONS of fun to do and I feel so CONFIDENT IN MY WORK
I'm hAPPY
delighted to be where I am, to have th friends I have, and to be doing this tumblr thing, to have the opportunity to share this creation, to share all my work, and keep growing better and better
ANYWAYS MORE GOOFING UNDER THE CUT
SONG ASSOCIATION
early sketchings
then with the base colors of the different three colors they have in this piece!
here were base colors almost done !!
oh also fire spear ajd;sflkajsdflakjdsf
here's me goofin' off with some color filters gyehehhehehe
here was a rough sketch of the background partially
here was the front layer of the background
then here was the background prior to effects!!
then here's the whole piece zoomed out!! which shows off the sparks better, I lvoed the sparks they were such shape y to do asjdf;lkaksdjfal;ksdfja
this piece was delightful to work on, and I really love how it turned out
I had this idea yesterday, which was whwen I designed Foxificer too, but putting it to action was such fun??? my goodness, Foxificer is just fun to draw ajsd;flaksjdf;klasdj;lfkas
thanks for reading! hope to see ya around
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you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.
you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.
so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.
you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.
you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.
you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.
you know you broke the rule by interacting.
but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.
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