@animangacreators challenge #3: alphabet challenge
B-> BOKUTO KOTARO
Text
quiet
bokuto kōtarō x shy!f!reader
kōtarō forgets how to breathe because you glanced in his general direction.
wc: 1.6k, request
if the sun decided to retire and move to a tropical island for a permanent vacation, the world wouldn’t even notice the lack of light because bokuto kōtarō exists. he is a walking, talking supernova with a vertical leap that defies the laws of physics and a voice that could probably shake fruit off a tree three towns over.
for someone like you—who operates at the volume of a library whisper and has the social battery of a potato—he should have been your worst nightmare. normally, people with that much “main character energy” made you want to burrow into the nearest pile of laundry and never come out. but bokuto? he was different. he wasn’t just loud; he was golden.
he was a giant, muscular golden retriever who somehow convinced himself that you, a quiet human who enjoys silence and moderate temperatures, were the center of the known universe.
𓏵
bokuto kōtarō didn’t just like you. he was vibrating on a molecular level every time you entered his line of sight. his eyes—those wide, golden, predatory owl eyes—would lock onto you with the intensity of a heat-seeking missile.
“akaashi,” bokuto whispered, which for him was still the volume of a leaf blower. “she’s reading. look at how she turns the page. have you ever seen such technique? such grace? the paper didn’t even tear. she’s a master of literacy.”
akaashi sighed, the sound of a man who had been at the epicenter of this hurricane for months. “she is indeed reading a book, bokuto. please stop vibrating. you’re making the floorboards creak.”
“i can’t help it! my heart is doing that thing where it tries to jump out of my throat so it can go sit next to her!”
bokuto was beyond “down bad.” he was at the bottom of the ocean, staring up at the surface where you stood, completely content to drown in his own adoration. he memorized the exact way you tucked your hair behind your ear. he knew which specific vending machine drink you liked (the one with the little blue flower on the label). he had a mental map of your schedule that would make a stalker look disorganized, though his intentions were purely focused on making sure he was “accidentally” leaning against a wall near your next class so he could yell “HEY! HEY! HEY!” and watch you jump three inches off the ground.
he wasn’t just devoted; he was a literal disciple of the church of you. he lived for the five seconds of eye contact you gave him. if you smiled at him, he’d go into “emo mode” for three days out of pure overwhelmed joy.
𓏵
you, meanwhile, were suffering in a very quiet, very polite way. your heart felt like a trapped bird every time the ace looked at you. you loved the way he occupied space, the way his energy felt like a warm blanket instead of an intrusion. you wanted to tell him, but the thought of speaking words out loud to a boy who looked like he could bench press a small car was terrifying.
akaashi found you behind the gym, staring intensely at a blade of grass.
“he’s currently inside trying to explain to a volleyball that it needs to be ‘more like you,’” akaashi said calmly.
you jumped, face heating up. “more.. more like me?”
“calm. reliable. aesthetically pleasing,” akaashi translated. “you should tell him, y/n. if you don’t, he might actually spontaneously combust. i’m tired of buying fire extinguishers.”
you swallowed hard, your voice barely a squeak. “he’s so… much. i’m just… me.”
“that’s the problem,” akaashi leaned against the wall. “to him, ‘just you’ is the equivalent of a literal goddess descending from the heavens to grace us with her presence. he completely loses his mind over you. go talk to him before he starts writing poetry. nobody wants to hear bokuto’s poetry.”
𓏵
the gym was quiet for once. bokuto was sitting on the floor, staring at his shoes like they had personally offended him. his hair was slightly deflated—the universal sign of distress.
you walked in, your footsteps making no sound. you were like a ghost, or a very shy ninja. you stood five feet away from him, your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater.
“bokuto?”
he froze. he didn’t move a muscle. he looked like a statue of a grecian god who had just been told he won the lottery. slowly, he turned his head, his eyes wide and shimmering.
“y/n?” he breathed. “are you real? am i dreaming? akaashi said if i hit my head too hard on the floor i might start seeing angels.”
“you didn’t hit your head,” you said, your voice soft, like the rustle of silk. “i… i wanted to tell you something.”
bokuto scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over a stray volleyball. he stood at full height, chest out, looking like he was ready to receive a medal of honor. he was staring at you with such raw, unadulterated hunger for your words that it was almost dizzying. he wanted to tuck you into his pocket and carry you around like a precious heirloom. he wanted to build a shrine to the way your voice sounded.
“i really like you,” you whispered, looking at your shoes. “i know i’m quiet, and you’re… you. but i like how bright you are. it makes me feel like i can be seen.”
the silence that followed was so heavy you thought you might collapse. then, a sound erupted from bokuto that could only be described as a dying whale trying to sing opera.
“AAAGHHHHHH!” he wailed, clutching his chest. “MY HEART! IT’S ACTUALLY EXPLODING! Y/N! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!”
he lunged forward but stopped exactly two inches from you, his self-control hanging by a single, frayed thread. he was trembling. he looked like he wanted to devour you and protect you from a rainy day at the same time.
“i’m so in love with you!” he bellowed, then immediately remembered you liked quiet. he dropped to an intense, vibrating whisper. “i am so deeply, incredibly, painfully devoted to you. i think about you when i’m spiking. i think about you when i’m eating meat buns. i even think about you when i’m trying to remember how to do long division, which is really hard!”
he reached out, his huge, calloused hand hovering near your cheek before gently, so gently, brushing a stray hair away. his touch was like lightning.
“you’re so quiet,” he murmured, his golden eyes darkening with a desperate kind of heat. “everyone else is so loud. the world is so loud. but when i’m near you, the noise in my head just… stops. you’re like my own personal cloud. i want to stay under you forever. i don’t want anyone else to look at you. is that bad? i want to wrap you in my team jacket and hide you so i’m the only one who gets to hear your voice.”
your heart didn’t just flutter; it did a full gymnastic floor routine. “i wouldn’t mind that,” you admitted.
𓏵
bokuto couldn’t take it anymore. he scooped you up into a hug that lifted you completely off the ground. your face was buried in the crook of his neck, which smelled like expensive laundry detergent and pure, unbridled adrenaline.
“am i yours now?” he asked, his voice muffled by your hair. “can i tell everyone? can i tell the mailman? can i tell that one crow that sits on the school gate and judges me?”
“maybe start with the team,” you giggled, the sound making bokuto squeeze you even tighter.
“i’m never letting you go,” he vowed, and he sounded like he meant it in a way that involved being your permanent shadow. “i’m going to be the best boyfriend. i’m going to score every point for you. i’m going to buy you every tea in that vending machine until you’re sick of it.”
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression so tender it felt like a physical weight. he looked at your lips, then back at your eyes, asking for permission with a vulnerability that made you want to cry.
you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to his cheek.
bokuto kōtarō, the ace of fukurōdani, one of the top five aces in the country, proceeded to melt. his knees actually gave out, and he slumped to the gym floor, bringing you down with him so you were sitting in his lap. he buried his face in your shoulder and made a noise of pure, concentrated bliss.
“y/n,” he groaned into your sweater. “you’re so perfect. i’m going to follow you home every day. not in a creepy way! in a ‘i am your personal bodyguard and if a breeze hits you too hard i will fight the wind’ way.”
you leaned your head against his, closing your eyes and soaking in the heat radiating from him. he was a lot. he was a hurricane, a firework, a golden disaster. but he was your golden disaster.
and as akaashi walked by the gym doors, seeing bokuto vibrating with joy while you sat contentedly in the center of his chaos, he finally put the fire extinguisher down.
“finally,” akaashi muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “now maybe he’ll stop asking me if ‘quiet’ is a flavor of ice cream.”
bokuto didn’t hear him. he was too busy trying to figure out if he could legally change his middle name to your name, his eyes fixed on you with a look of such beautiful, total adoration that you knew you’d never have to worry about being alone ever again.
n: everyone get in line, we’re getting a bite out of bokuto’s thighs
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© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners !
iloveu
Text
the birthday boy ˚🍰 ⋆｡˚
“Ack, I’m an old man now.” Are the words that come out of Bokuto’s mouth first thing in the morning. “You’re 31.” Your response is blunt but fair. “That’s old nowadays y’know? ‘Sides my joints feel achey.” He mumbles, a coy way of trying to get massaged. “Poor thing.” If it wasn’t his birthday you wouldn’t be so doting, but he makes a pleased noise when your fingers reach for his shoulders.
“So, do I get any special birthday gifts today?” Bokuto tips his head back to look at you, already smiling wide and pretty even though it’s early. “Don’t you know what a surprise is?” You say back, kissing his forehead cause you have such easy access. He pouts slightly, though with time his patience has improved greatly, so you don’t have to deal with any temper tantrums. “Could I perhaps have a hint…?” He hums, pulling you around so he can prop you on his lap.
“Me, maybe with a pretty bow.” You’re acting all innocent and sweet, it really gets his gears turning, even after all these years.
“Don’t even need a bow, pretty enough as is.” Bokuto sighs dreamily, he’s already thinking about it. “You’re so weird.” You laugh, gently pulling his goatee to bring him back to reality. “Hey! You put the idea in my head.” He squints at you, dipping forward. You yelp, flinching away, worried he might chomp you. He gives you a funny look like you’re the crazy one, pecking your cheek, laughing softly at your indignant expression.
“So I really don’t get any hints?” He asks just to be sure. “We got you a cake with strawberries. That’s all I’m saying mister.”
“We? So it’s a surprise party then?” He looks so proud of himself, his suspicions confirmed by the panicked look on your face. Bokuto’s laugh is like a sweet chirp when you place your face in your hands. After all this time planning this thing right under his nose you’d be the one to spoil it.
He’s sweet enough to pretend like he’s surprised when Hinata takes him out for an impromptu lunch, returning to the decorated apartment where everyone cheers for him. For a gift he asks for thirty one kisses, you oblige much later after everyone else goes home.
dividers by @ivysorrele
a/n: Look at this freaking art, happy bday bokuto!!!!!
Answer
protective
— kōtarō’s love for you is so powerful, it makes earthquakes look like gentle table vibrations at a cat café.
bokuto kōtarō x shy!f!reader
c: fluff fluff fluff fluff
thank u babyy!! i hope this is okay mwuah! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
[[MORE]]there are many forces in the world that cannot be stopped: gravity, natural disasters, and bokuto kōtarō deciding you are his.
and it isn’t a slow realization, either. the first time he sees you nervously chew on your pencil in class, too shy to ask the teacher a question, he feels like he’s been struck by lightning. the second time he notices you stumbling through an apology after someone bumps into you in the hallway, he swears he hears wedding bells. by the third time—when you quietly thank him for holding a door open—he’s done for. like stick-a-fork-in-him done.
bokuto doesn’t just like you. no, he recalibrates his entire existence around you. if his brain were a map, you’re the only destination, and everything else is “here be dragons.”
so obviously, something had to be done.
and that something?
the y/n protection squad™.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the announcement happens during practice.
“guys, listen up!” bokuto booms, striding into the gym like he’s about to deliver the state of the union address.
“what now?” konoha mutters, already sensing a headache coming on.
“this is serious,” bokuto declares, seizing a volleyball like a visual prop. “this—” he holds it aloft— “is the world. and the world is full of dangers. like sharp corners. and rude people. and… feelings.” he hugs the ball dramatically. “and this is y/n, who is my whole world. therefore—y/n is the world!”
akaashi doesn’t even blink. “you’ve lost me.”
“look, the point is,” bokuto waves wildly, nearly clocking komi in the head, “y/n is shy and sweet and delicate, like… like a baby bird who deserves a velvet nest! but the world is cruel! we need a squad to protect her!”
washio, who’s long since accepted his captain’s theatrics, simply raises an eyebrow. “a squad?”
“yes!” bokuto puffs out his chest. “the y/n protection squad. effective immediately. positions open. full benefits.”
there’s a beat of silence.
then komi bounces up and down, hand in the air. “i’m in!”
“same,” says anahori, who looks more entertained than annoyed.
“why not,” onaga shrugs.
sarukui nods. “sure.”
even konoha smirks. “could be fun.”
akaashi sighs, rubbing his temple. “bokuto, this is absurd. we can’t just—”
“akaashiii,” bokuto pleads, his golden eyes wide and shimmering. “don’t you care about y/n’s happiness?”
akaashi stares at him. stares at the others. stares at bokuto’s trembling lower lip. “…fine. but we’re doing this discreetly.”
“YES!” bokuto pumps his fist so hard he nearly dislocates his shoulder. “welcome to the squad!”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the operation starts the very next day.
you’re walking to class when suddenly konoha and washio materialize like secret service agents, forming a human barricade in the hallway.
“…hi?” you say, voice small.
“good morning, y/n!” konoha grins brightly, like this is completely normal.
washio nods solemnly. “you’re safe.”
safe from what? you don’t know—but before you can ask, bokuto comes barreling around the corner like a runaway train.
“Y/N!!!” he shouts, skidding to a stop just inches from you, hair fluffing wildly as he beams. “good morning!! did you sleep okay? did you eat breakfast? do you want my breakfast? or my jacket? or—”
your cheeks burn. “i’m… i’m fine.”
his whole face softens, so full of relief it almost makes your chest ache. “good,” he says reverently. “so good.”
behind him, konoha and washio exchange a thumbs up like proud stage parents.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
by the end of the week, you realize this “squad” thing isn’t a one-off joke.
at lunch, komi and konoha stand guard at either side of your table, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as glances in your direction.
on your walk to math, sarukui and onaga flank you like bodyguards, their strides perfectly timed so no one bumps you in the crowded hall.
when you study in the library, akaashi positions himself strategically nearby, pretending to read but actually scanning the room every three seconds like a hawk.
and bokuto? he’s everywhere.
if someone says your name too loudly: “HEY! keep it down, she’s delicate!”
if someone tries to sit next to you: “oh sorry, that seat’s taken—by me!”
if you drop your pencil: he’s already diving under three desks to snatch it up like it’s olympic gold.
you can’t decide if it’s embarrassing or… strangely comforting.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the thing is, they’re all so genuine about it. none of them mock your shyness or make you feel like a burden. instead, they adapt. they keep their voices soft around you, never press too hard, and always give you time to answer at your own pace.
and bokuto—oh, bokuto.
he looks at you like you invented warmth. like if you disappeared, the sun would stop rising out of respect.
you thank him quietly for lending you his eraser, and his entire body vibrates like you just handed him an engagement ring.
you brush past him accidentally, and he spends the next three hours replaying the exact angle your sleeve touched his arm.
once, you smile at him—just a small, shy curve of your lips—and he nearly falls to his knees in the middle of the hallway.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“you don’t get it, akaashi,” bokuto hisses one afternoon after practice, while you’re across the gym quietly waiting for them to finish. “y/n smiled at me. at ME. that’s it, i’ve peaked. everything else is downhill from here.”
akaashi doesn’t look up from tying his shoes. “you’re saying this like you don’t peak daily.”
“but this time it was HER,” bokuto insists, eyes practically glowing. “akaashiii, i would die for her. no—i’d live for her! i’d fight a bear for her!”
“please don’t,” akaashi mutters, but bokuto is already imagining it.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
meanwhile, you’re starting to catch on.
you notice how konoha subtly steers loud classmates away from your desk. how komi “accidentally” bumps into people who try to bother you. how sarukui and onaga walk you to club rooms under the excuse of “oh, we’re headed that way too!”
and you notice bokuto most of all.
the way he lights up when you enter a room. the way his voice drops softer when he talks just to you. the way his hands twitch like he’s dying to hold yours but reins himself in because he doesn’t want to scare you.
it’s overwhelming, yes. but it’s also… sweet. like he’s wrapping you in bubble wrap and placing a giant “fragile: handle with care” sticker on your forehead.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the tipping point comes during a group project.
a classmate raises their voice—not at you, but near you—and you flinch instinctively. before you can recover, bokuto is suddenly towering over them, golden eyes blazing.
“HEY. tone it down. she doesn’t like that.”
the classmate stammers an apology, backing away fast.
then bokuto whirls on you, his hands fluttering uselessly like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed. “are you okay? did that scare you? should i go yell at them again? want me to carry you out of here?”
your heart hammers. “i’m… i’m okay,” you whisper.
instantly, his whole body deflates with relief. “oh, thank god.”
he crouches slightly, meeting your eyes with a gentleness so at odds with his booming personality that it makes your throat tight. “you don’t ever have to deal with that alone, y/n. not with me. not with us. you’re… you’re everything to me.”
and as if on cue, the classroom door opens and konoha, washio, and komi peek in, clearly having been eavesdropping.
“don’t worry, y/n,” konoha grins, “the squad’s got you.”
“always,” washio says firmly.
“forever!” komi adds with a thumbs up.
bokuto beams at you, eyes sparkling like he’s singlehandedly bottled the milky way. “see? you’ll never be alone.”
and despite the absurdity, despite the embarrassment bubbling hot in your chest, you can’t help but smile. because with bokuto and his ridiculous squad of teammates, you’ve never felt safer—or more cherished—in your entire life.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
a: wrote this an hour before my exam, i’m such a chad. my bf mad cs i have the exam room with a guy ik 😔
© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
iloveu
Answer
Text
⸝ ᛪ༙┆COMFORT YOU ! ⎯ 𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐎
summary: After a rough fight with your parents, you seek comfort in Bokuto’s arms. He doesn’t ask questions—just holds you, listens, and reminds you that you’re enough.
warnings: tw: emotional comfort : hurt/comfort : soft!bokuto : implied academic pressure : parental conflict : crying : safe space dynamic : gentle physical touch : protective!bokuto : cuddling : vulnerability : self-worth themes
wc : 1,2k
It was drizzling lightly when you stood in front of his door, your fingers clutching the strap of your bag like it was the only thing holding you together. You pressed the doorbell, waited just a few seconds—and then the door swung open.
Barely half an hour had passed since you’d texted him: Can I stay over tonight?
You hadn’t said why.
He didn’t ask.
Home had been unbearable tonight. Too loud. Too much.
»Hey! There you are!« Bokuto grinned brightly, his eyes lighting up the second he saw you. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of your head—his usual, enthusiastic way of greeting you, like you were the best part of his day.
You tried to return the smile, but it wavered, barely holding. Still, a flicker of warmth spread in your chest. Not enough to chase the emptiness that had settled there since you left home, but enough to remind you: you were safe here.
»Do you want some dry clothes? Yours are a little soaked « he asked, closing the door behind you as you stepped out of your sneakers.
You shook your head. »I’m fine.«
You didn’t have the energy to change. You didn’t want to move. You just wanted to curl up next to him—let his arms carry what you couldn’t tonight.
You followed him to his room, surprisingly tidy for someone as chaotic as Bokuto usually was. He turned to you again, practically bouncing on his heels.
»Wanna order food? Ramen? Oh! Or that curry you liked last time—remember?«
His golden-brown eyes sparkled, and his lips curled into the kind of smile that usually made your heart flutter. But not tonight.
The guilt sank in fast and heavy. You hated that you were bringing this mood with you, that you couldn’t be as bright as he deserved.
»No appetite « you murmured. And it was true. The tension from earlier had crushed it entirely.
Bokuto tilted his head, concern washing over his face. »You okay?«
You walked over to his bed, offered him a small, forced smile, then turned your back to him so he wouldn’t see the way your jaw clenched or how your eyes stung.
» I’m fine « you said, clearing your throat.
» Oookaay « he replied slowly, clearly not convinced, but not pushing. »Wanna watch a movie? Or game a little?«
He held up two controllers with a hopeful grin.
»Doesn’t matter « you mumbled, already pulling the blanket over yourself as you sank into the mattress.
He paused. You heard the slight drop in his voice before he spoke again.
» Usually you’d be like, ‘Movie, obviously! I suck at games—playing with you is torture!’ « He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.
Bokuto sat down on the edge of the bed, glancing over at you.
Usually.
But today wasn’t like usual.
Today had shattered everything.
The fight with your parents still echoed in your mind—the shouting, the words that cut deeper than they should’ve, their voices strained with anger and disappointment.
A small laugh escaped you at Bokuto’s words, but it broke halfway through—splintered into a sob. You covered your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut to hold the tears back.
Bokuto moved instantly, scooting closer and wrapping his arms tightly around you. You didn’t resist. A single tear slipped down your cheek, then another, soaking into his shirt as he held you close.
His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, grounding you. You didn’t cry often—not even in front of him—but with Bokuto, you never had to hide.
He brushed a damp strand of hair from your face and tucked it gently behind your ear.
»Do you wanna talk about it?« he asked softly, voice low and careful.
Then, even quieter:
»Or should I just hold you for a while?«
You didn’t speak—just nodded.
He adjusted his position so that he was leaning back against the pillows, pulling you with him until your head was resting on his chest and his arms were looped around your back.
He began tracing slow patterns along your spine—little circles, lines, and the occasional heart you thought you could feel forming beneath his fingertips. He didn’t say anything else. He just let you cry. Let you fall apart in the safety of his embrace.
He didn’t flinch when your tears soaked through his shirt. Didn’t mind the smudge of mascara you were sure had ruined the fabric. He just held you—steady and strong.
Eventually, your sobs began to fade. Your breathing steadied. Still, Bokuto said nothing. He knew better than to fill the silence. He just stayed there, quietly holding you, letting you take whatever time you needed.
»My parents and I had a really bad fight.« you whispered, voice barely audible. It cracked like dry wood, but he didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
»They started going on about my grades.«, you continued, the memory tightening your chest all over again. » Told me I wasn’t doing enough. That I should think more about my future.«
You sniffled. »But I’m trying. I really am.«
Bokuto’s arms tightened around you ever so slightly.
»But you’re already such a good student« he said, almost like he was reminding himself. »You’re always doing your best.«
You let out a bitter breath. »Apparently that’s not enough. They want straight As. Perfection or nothing.«
He sighed softly, forehead resting against the top of your head.
»No one’s perfect.« he murmured. »As cheesy as it sounds—grades don’t define you. Not even a little. They don’t get to decide how valuable you are.«
His words were warm, like soft fabric and hot sunlight in early spring. The kind that wrapped around all the broken parts of you and held them gently.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that.
»And anyway «, he added with a dramatic flair, lifting his chin slightly, » I’m gonna be a pro volleyball player someday. I’ll make enough for the both of us. You won’t even need to lift a finger.«
Despite yourself, a quiet laugh slipped from your lips.
»Yeah. You’re right « you murmured, nestling closer to him.
» Obviously.« he said with a proud grin. »I’m right about everything.«
You giggled again—small, but real this time.
»I’m sorry for bringing such a heavy mood with me« you mumbled, your voice low and a little ashamed.
» There’s nothing to apologize for.« Bokuto said gently, rubbing your back in slow circles. »No one’s happy all the time. That’s not how life works.«
You smiled a little at that, already feeling lighter—like the weight in your chest had shifted, even if just slightly. His words always had that effect. He didn’t just comfort you, he made you feel understood.
» Then how do you always manage to be in a good mood?« you asked quietly, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of admiration.
He gave a soft chuckle and shrugged, his shoulders lifting beneath you. » Who knows? Maybe it’s just my sparkling personality.« he joked playfully, then leaned down a bit to nuzzle your hair. »So, what do you wanna do now?«
You were quiet for a moment, thinking, before you answered honestly.
»Just wanna cuddle.«
» Just cuddle?« he repeated, as if confirming, and you nodded against his chest.
He smiled, his arms pulling you closer, holding you like something precious.
»Well then«, he whispered warmly, «I’m more than okay with that.«
© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !
Request open — !
Answer
Of course I can! I love me some owl baby questions so thanks so much for sending this in 😊 It was quick and fun to do and I hope the answers will be interesting enough to read!
Favourite thing about Bokuto’s appearance?
I love Bokuto’s smile, in all it’s forms. The proud and cocky grin, the just pure sunshine incarnate of him beaming because he’s just so happy, the softer smile you sometimes see. He’s just so beautiful when he’s happy, at peace, or all fired up and that smile comes through. He also has some wicked cool hair too.
Favourite picture/screencap of Bokuto?
I have to admit it changes often but at the moment, it’s the latest official art you sent me!
Favourite headcanon for Bokuto?
Bokuto fails at almost every household chore besides mowing the lawn. For some reason, mowing the lawn excites Bokuto. He can’t wait to do it and he insists on doing it with an electric push mower – no fancy ride-on lawn mowers for him. Sometimes he gets out and mows the lawn even before it really needs to be done.
Text
more time skip bokuto (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)
You wiggle your fingers close near his mouth, quickly retracting your hand before his teeth can clamp down around your fingers. Delving into a heap of giggles, “You were close that time.” You say brushing his hair back, raking your fingers through his multicolored strands won’t end up with slobbery fingers, much safer. You can feel him laugh, you’re sitting on the bleacher directly behind him, letting him lull his head back onto your lap.
With nationals rearing it’s head the rest of the team is depending on you to show up to every practice to keep Bokuto in top shape. His moods, which are more stable as he’s grown more confident in his ability, are still too much to handle especially with nationals rearing over everyone’s heads. He’s being an angel when you trace your finger down the slope of his sharp nose, not even trying to tilt his nose up to try and nip your fingers. “You’re playing really well today Kō.” You compliment him earnestly “Am I really?” He asks, he’s just fishing for compliments now, “Yes really.” You laugh softly, pinching his cheek. He smiles, tilting his head to the side, catching your pointer finger in his mouth, nibbling it with his canine. “Ewwww” You giggle airily, yanking your finger from his mouth, wiping his saliva away onto his jersey. “It’s not "ewwww” when we kiss.“ He whines, you slot your hand over his mouth "Hey, that’s different, don’t be gross at practice.” You shriek again when his licks your palm, it echos across the gym and a few of the guys toss looks your guys’ way. You frown , feeling embarrassment, you give him a light flick to the forehead. “Oh c'mon, that was prime time, you really should’ve seen that coming.” He rubs his forehead, soothing away the red mark with a pout.
When his water break ends, you’re forced to continue to cheer him on from the sidelines, only him though, any cheering for any of his teammates results in his heart breaking a little. He even “sneaks” over when coach isn’t looking, letting you feed him little clementine slices. If he didn’t play so well you’re sure you’d be kicked out for being such a distraction, luckily Bokuto is such a peacock, it might as well be a mating ritual. It’s very cute in a “Let’s get married and have a dozen athlete babies” sort of way. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” He pops up in front of you which makes you jump, “Er– nothing, nothing.” You deny, waving your hand dismissively. “Uh-huh…, ready to go?” He squints at you, yanking you up when you nod. He’s slightly clammy with sweat, not too bad compared to other practices. The entire way home he whines that you should tell him whatever you were thinking about earlier, while you deny him of his curiosity, you wonder if wearing a wedding ring would affect his ability to play.
dividers by @strangergraphics
