Unrequited love with Sakusa Kiyoomi -366 words of angst
Sakusa Kiyoomi understands the function of a human heart. He has a very clinical appreciation for it - the most important muscle in the body, pumping blood through the roadways of the body to deliver oxygen and nutrients and clear waste. That, he understands.
What he does not understand is why his heart constricts with pain every time youturn up to pick Miya Atsumu for practice. Why his atriums threaten to collapse, when you greet him with a bright smile and a chirped ‘Kiyoomi’, why his ventricles threaten to crumble when you turn away to greet your boyfriend with a hug and a tender kiss.
It’s silly. It’s awful. He doesn’t quite understand it.
Perhaps it’s because he listens to Atsumu boast about you all the time in the locker room. About how kind and understanding you are about his busy schedule, how caring you are to make sure the fridge is stocked with healthy meals for him to eat. About the dates you both go on, searching out old fashioned diners and cosy bakeries, running around furniture shops like children envisioning the home you’d like to build together one day.
It doesn’t help that you are one of the few people who respect his space yet show that they’re interested in him, dull, quiet, snappy Sakusa Kiyoomi.
But you’re in a happy relationship, and he would never disrespect that, so he just looks away and tries not to grimace when you look at Miya Atsumu as if he’s hung the stars in the sky.
“Kiyoomi?”
You call out to him, explaining that you heard from Atsumu that his favourite food is umeboshi which you just happened to have on hand, so you made him a bento box of his own.
“Thank you”, he shakily replies as you skip away hand in hand with Atsumu.
He opens the box. Perfectly cooked rice, umeboshi tucked into the very centre, surrounded by a generous helping of karaage and tamagoyaki with a side of cucumber and wakame salad. There’s a cheery note tucked into the box, wishing him gambatte!
Muscles falter. Blood vessels collapse into themselves.
He should look into replacing his heart. It seems to be failing him.
a/n:yall really like hurting omi huh. poor darling.
pairing:sakusa kiyoomi x f! reader genre: unadulterated fluff wc:455 words
a/n:an outtake from my earlier work Broken Compass (read here) which covers the romance between omi and the reader here, can be read as a standalone.
You watch as Sakusa Kiyoomi slides his cufflinks into place, the finely wrought silver catching the light. The significance of them isn’t lost on him when you shyly gifted them to him. Twin compasses, echoing his words when he proposed to you.
If my heart were a compass it would be broken, because instead of pointing north, it will always point towards you.
Still, you wonder if you are asking too much of him right now, even if he’s assured you at least a hundred times that he wants to accompany you to your ex’s wedding as your plus one. You understand Omi well enough to know that he dislikes crowds and loud places, what more a wedding dinner overflowing with alcohol and volleyball players. He would not have agreed to go if not for you.
“Omi”, you catch his elbow, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “You really don’t have to go with me. It’s no problem - I can go alone, catch a cab, I’m sure there’ll be people I can hang out with anyway, it’ll be fine -”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Of course you do - the evening would be so much more enjoyable with your own fiancee by your side. He’d whisper dry jokes into your ear just to make you giggle, rescue you from any awkward social situations with his usual complete lack of tact, and squeeze your hand to reassure you that he’s there.
You’ve never been able to lie to him so you nod.
“Then I’m going with you”, he says as if it’s a done deal.
“You don’t have to”, you protest weakly.
“No, I don’t”, he agrees. “I don’t have to, but I want to. Because it’s you.”
The simplicity and sheer romanticism of his statement astounds you, threatens to swell and swallow you whole. Sakusa Kiyoomi never fails to remind you each and every day of his love for you, slowly building up a lifetime of decisions to show that you are his choice.
He loves you. It’s always been you.
You are going to ruin your make-up if you don’t keep it together.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, suddenly alarmed by the tears in your eyes.
You shake your head, brushing his dark curls gently from his forehead. “Nothing’s wrong, Omi”, you reply, trying your best not to cry.
He frowns slightly, snatching up a tissue to dab away your tears. “Silly woman”, he says lightly. “Getting emotional on what you should already know.”
“It’s nice to be reminded once in a while”, you say, giggling as he snorts and tugs you out of the front door into the waiting cab. You end up enjoying the party because he’s by your side.
a/n:enjoy the fluff today, will be posting heavy suna angst tmr. :)
You are no match for a professional athlete when he’s determined to barge into your apartment. So you can only squawk indignantly when Miya Atsumu shoulders past you, unceremoniously dumping a semi-comatose Sakusa Kiyoomi onto your sofa.
“He kept asking for ya”, the blonde idiot standing on your living room rug states, making a run for it before you can even protest.
You should leave him to suffer on the sofa - which he surely will, given the way he reeks of alcohol and fried food. He deserves it after the way he stomped on your heart, crushing it beneath his feet by claiming that you were too emotionally needy, too clingy, too affectionate - too much of everything he didn’t want. Logic dictates that you should leave him to suffer, but you are far too much of a bleeding heart, so you rearrange his limbs on the sofa, tuck a cushion under his neck.
You’re in the kitchen deliberating whether to wake him up to force him to down a glass of water when you hear him calling your name, like he has a thousand times before. Your feet answer before you even think.
“Sakusa-san”, you greet him coldly as he struggles to sit up and hunches over, knees to chest.
“I miss her so much”, he tells you, head in hands, and your heart sinks like a stone as you wonder who sheis, who he’s referring to.
You are half minded to deposit him on your front door until he replies with your name again, mumbles it again and again and again, and you realise with one look at his hazy gaze - oh, this silly man crouched on your sofa like an oversized cat is yearning for you.
You’ve heard anecdotes of the MSBY boys’ quirks when drunk. Atsumu, a natural loudmouth, gets exceedingly quiet. Loud, exuberant Bokuto, falls asleep anywhere like a log and snores like a horn. Hinata gets even more hyper, bounces off walls until Meian corrals him when it’s time to go. But you’ve never heard about Kiyoomi losing himself to alcohol, at least not until now.
Reticent, remote Kiyoomi is a complete chatterbox. He slurs his way through declarations of love to you, lamenting how huge of an idiot he was to ever let you go. You listen bemusedly as he lauds your patience with him, talks fondly of the silly things you do that make him smile, affection colouring every inflection of his voice.
“D’you think I have a chance if I beg for her to take me back?”
You pretend to think, even as you take the opportunity to force him to down a cup of water and lie back down on the sofa.
“I think she might if you ask her nicely and promise a lifetime’s supply of kisses to make amends.”
He snuffles into his blanket happily before promptly falling asleep.
