I Hc That Bokuto Has Back Dimples And No One Can Tell Me Otherwise !!

i hc that bokuto has back dimples and no one can tell me otherwise !!

[9:25 PM] — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Kiyoomi remembers vividly the empty house and quiet evenings of his childhood. He’s been told not now, Kiyoomi far more times than he can recount, and it’s ingrained in him. He’s too often been an afterthought, there’s never really been time for him, and he’s grown used to that.

But he looks down at two little orbs, same shade of obsidian as his—and unlike his, they’re wide and curious. They shine with trust, a trust in him and you and in the world that things will be good, and he doesn’t wanna ruin that. There are tiny hands that reach up and expect his to be waiting, and he makes sure they are. He promises he’ll be good, that he’ll do things differently.

The Sakusa’s haven’t always been known for being a tight knit family, but he wants to change the course of things, and he does his best. So when news comes that soon there’ll be another baby, Kiyoomi sees that there’s one person who’s not as thrilled as everyone else.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Kiyoomi crawls into the trampoline beside his daughter. Her pigtails are loose, stray hairs disarrayed from a long day of playing in the backyard, and he smiles at the chipped polish on her fingernails. He’ll have to repaint them soon.

It’s a tight squeeze, the trampoline’s built for a five year old, not a 6’4 well-built athlete, but he makes do with his legs pressed up to his chest, hand laying itself atop her unruly curls that match his.

“Nothing, daddy,” she mumbles quietly, fiddling with the tiara in her hands. Kiyoomi sighs softly, shifting to face her as best he can. It’s silent for a bit, until he decides to break it.

“Did you know I have a big sister?” She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and her nose scrunches up the way yours does, making Kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins at the sight.

“Really?” He nods, pulling her body closer, and she curls into his warm chest, hand moving to grip his shirt as he kisses her forehead.

“Yeah, sure do. It’s your aunt, remember? You saw her during the summer at grandma’s house.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “She doesn’t talk a lot,” she recalls, and Kiyoomi hums. He’s never exactly been close with his sister, and he wants things to be different with his own family.

“We never really spent a lot of time together,” he explains.

“Is it because you stole her love, daddy? From your parents?” Blinking, Kiyoomi looks down, watching as a pout curls his daughter’s lips, her eyes a tad bit watery at the idea. Titling her chin up, he presses another kiss to her nose.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what little brothers do. And little sisters. I don’ wanna be a big sister, daddy,” she whispers. And Kiyoomi hugs her closer, his own eyes a little moist. He’s not sure why.

Maybe it’s because he feels like he’s done something right, that his daughter feels loved in the first place. Or maybe it’s because there’s a pang in his chest that she could think anything would steal even a sliver of his love for her. Kiyoomi never knew love could burn this brightly, but the embers are never dying, and he cherishes this feeling, these moments.

“That’s not true, princess,” he murmurs. Laying his cheek on her head, he looks ahead at the backyard, looking at the three chairs on the patio. Two big ones on either side of a tiny one. There was once only two, one for you and one for him, but now there’ll soon be a fourth, and he feels his heart swell. This is fatherhood, he thinks, when a chair becomes so much more than a chair.

“I don’ want you to forget me,” she whispers, voice hesitant, and it almost breaks his heart, but he’s made a promise—and he intends to keep it.

“I could never,” he promises. Grabbing the tiara from her hand, he gently smooths down the curls, carefully placing it on her head. Giving her nose a soft pinch, he smiles at her giggles. “You’re still my princess, even with another baby. I love you, always will.”

“What if the baby steals you away?” Huffing out a chuckle, he cradles her cheek in his palm. It’s small against his large hand, and he’s thankful that despite all the growing she’s done in the last five years, she’s not done needing him, not ready to grow out of his affections.

Love is a two way road, he’s reminded yet again—and he’s glad.

“Daddy’s don’t ever stop loving their babies, you know,” he mumbles against her head. “Even when you’re a big girl, I’ll always love you.”

“Even if there’s another baby?”

“Of course. You were my first baby.” She grips his shirt tighter, and Kiyoomi lays his hand on top of hers, rubbing her back gently as she listens to his heart beat through his chest. He wants to show her it’s beating for her, that her little pigtails and morning kisses and after school tea parties are what makes his world go round, but for now, he settles for this. Just the two of them sat in the tiny trampoline, savoring the way time stilled for a moment.

“Do you think I’ll be a good big sister?”

“The best,” he answers immediately. She relaxes in his hold, yawning tiredly from the long day of adventures, and Kiyoomi is just as excited for bed time cuddles during story as ever.

“I love you, daddy,” she says with a small grin. And Kiyoomi’s always wondered if he’s done a good job, if he’s been keeping his promise to himself—and thinks he just might have done that and more when he looks down and sees two wide eyes even brighter than before.

So, with a soft squeeze and a kiss to the crown of her head, he murmurs “I love you too, princess.”

a/n: spent the weekend with my best friend and her little nephews and i been sobbing over dad kiyoomi

reblogs are really appreciated !!

Too cute 😍

thank you!! 💗

Nanami reverse parking on my mind

I impulsively spend money/suck at saving

Im very sarcastic

Im loud when im around people im comfortable with

bokuto, akaashi, and suna 🧍🏻‍♀️

for @tetsvhoe ’s please don’t say you love me collab (angst)

kiyoomi watches as his daughter’s hand holds yours, clutching tightly onto your shirt as she stares up at him with wide eyes.

and they’re disappointed.

he feels a hole rip itself into the middle of his heart, and he wonders how he’d let it get this far. how something as familiar as family has become so distant, he doesn’t know where he lies or what his part is anymore. he’s held her hand so many times, helped her waddle through her first steps, walked her to school on her first day, played with her in the backyard through afternoon adventures.

and suddenly, she’s too far from his grasp.

he’s held yours so many times, through first dates and rough days, through happy moments and random spurs of clinginess, through self doubts and even just simple mornings laying together. you’ve always been there, just a simple reach away, your fingers connecting with his just like the strings of your hearts, interlacing and becoming one.

and you’ve been reaching, trying to grasp him desperately, but he’s never reached back.

“the papers will be sent to you by my lawyer soon. and—”

he cuts you off with wet eyes and wobbly lips, with his heart shattered and ruined and ugly, but he offers it to you anyway because kiyoomi’s willing to give you all he has—every fiber of his being, even if it’s not enough.

“please, don’t go,” he croaks, and suddenly, he notices how the paint on the walls of your house—the ones you’d happily painted together after your marriage—is chipping by the front door.

he hadn’t noticed the cracks before now.

kiyoomi’s begging you through his eyes—they’re dark and obsidian, but you find a way to make them shine a warm brown in the middle, and he can’t lose that. he’s desperately trying to get you to see his heart and soul, that they’re yours. he presses them to your hands, and he craves the safety they bring, but somehow the home he’s found in you is desolate of its usual warmth.

“kiyoomi—”

“i’m omi. you…i’m your omi,” he whispers, his voice cracking in the middle. and then his eyes drop to her, the sweet voice in his dreams, the giggles in the mornings, the hugs after work, the goodnight kisses and bedtime story cuddles and the bridge to his future, they’re all in her. “princess, where…where are you going?”

“we’re going on a trip,” she whispers. “just us two. ‘cause you’re never here, daddy.”

and finally, finally, kiyoomi’s breath stutters as he chokes on a sob—the family he’s been searching for his whole life, the one he’s built with his own hands, is falling apart from the seams.

and on any other day, though his hands are callused, they’re also warm, and you hold them anyway. but he’s a phantom now, the ghost feeling of his touch just a lost memory, an old engraving in your brain.

“y/n, you can’t do this,” he sobs, the tears streaking down his face and collecting at his chin. he’s never wanted his daughter to see him like this, but his world is being plucked from his hands and he’s got no other place to call home. “you can’t! you… you just can’t—”

“and why not, kiyoomi?” you raise your voice, and your daughter flinches slightly. the shattered remains of his heart all but disintegrate at the sight. she’s too good for this world, too good to witness this—this mess he’s created. “why the hell not? tell me something, kiyoomi. would you even realize we’re gone? huh? would you? it’s not like we’re a part of your daily routine anymore. you wouldn’t feel a thing if we walked out this door.”

he wishes he could show you, physically offer you the scene of his heart wilting the second your foot would step out the door, but he can’t, and he’s at a loss.

“of course i would! what are you saying? why wouldn’t i feel anything? you’re my whole life!” you laugh, and it’s bitter, there’s not a trace of humor, but he still feels helpless at the sound. it rings off the chipped paint of the walls and mocks him.

“you have one hell of a way of showing it,” you sneer.

and with a shaky whisper of “i love you, i love you both,” he reaches out, but you step back and your daughter is tugged along.

he offers you the words you’ve desperately tried to hear through the echoes of your memory, but they’ve become as far away as your husband himself, and you don’t care for them now.

“don’t say that now,” you whisper. “please don’t say you love me now.” and with a sigh, you straighten your shoulders, almost like you’re rolling the remnants of his love off your body. “the divorce papers will be sent to you, and we’ll handle how often our daughter gets to see you at court. but don’t contact me.” and he sinks to his knees when he hears the door slam shut, wishing he’d said i love you just once when you needed it most.