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sakanoshitaa · 19 hours

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ᥫ᭡。 of pages past.

⟢ pairing: bokuto x fem!reader

⟢ synopsis: its bokuto’s big 30th but you’re nowhere in sight to celebrate his day with him. could it be that you’ve forgotten? or is that you’ve got something up your sleeve?

⟢ cw: fluff and silliness!!

⟢ wc: 2.6k

⟢ a/n: happy birthday to the cutest lil big guy ever!! <333

If there is one word that Bokuto would use to describe how he feels right now, it’s dejected. Or maybe it’s neglected? Or… maybe it’s both? Is there much of a difference between the two? He curls up further in on himself on your bed and sighs sadly, your favourite plushie (that was a gift from him, mind you) trapped between his burly arms. If the squishy little owl could breathe, it would suffocate from how tightly he holds it, but he’s too upset to care right now.

Because right now, you’re not here, like you should be, like you usually are. Every year, the two of you spend his special day together but it seems that this year, you’ve forgotten all about it. Or worse, maybe, you’ve forgotten all about him. Bokuto banishes that thought as quickly as it comes - he may be sulky and dramatic but he knows that’s not true. It’s just not possible.

But it is completely possible that you’ve forgotten his birthday.

This morning, you didn’t wish him a happy birthday the moment he opened his eyes and you didn’t smother him in his birthday kisses either. There was no special breakfast waiting for him when he got back from the gym, no neatly wrapped presents waiting behind your back, not even an envelope with a silly card inside. All day, he’s been hoping that when he got back from practice, you’d surprise him with something spectacular, but even that didn’t happen. He came home to an empty house, his heart feeling even emptier.

Now, here he lies, waiting for you to come home from work to spend the last few hours of his day together. Another sigh leaves him as he reaches for his phone to text you and ask where you are, when he stops in his tracks, his hand hovering over the device. On top of the drawers, right behind the lamp, is a small slip of paper, neatly folded into a square about the size of your palm. Curious, he takes it and sits up, unfolding it to find your handwriting looping across the creases.

Hey baby. So… I’ve got a little dilemma and I need your help. I seem to be a little lost on this special day :( There are 5 of these notes hidden in different places around the house. I need you to find them all using the clues on them so that you can find me. Are you up to the challenge?

“Obviously,” he says to himself, a grin spreading over his face as determination fills his veins. Any traces of sadness disappear from him as he stands and continues reading. He knew you didn’t forget.

Of course you are ^.^ Your first clue is:

Find me where your lips touched mine for the first time.

“Our first kiss,” he murmurs to himself. “But that was… back in high school.” You can’t possibly have hidden a slip of paper in Fukurodani since it’s so far from where the two of you live now. Why would you send him on a wild goose chase around Tokyo? Wouldn’t that take forever? He scans the piece of paper again, looking for another clue you might have hidden between the lines. “Around the house… first kiss… Wait!”

Your first kiss in this house! That must be it! Bokuto wracks his brain, flipping through the pages of his memories of when the two of you first moved in together.

“Right, we’ve just got the kitchen left,” you say, propping your hands on your hips as you survey your new living room. Bokuto wipes the sweat from his forehead and nods, taking a swig from his bottle of water. Moving boxes are pushed up against the bare walls of your new home, ready to be unpacked so that you can fill the spacious rooms with little pieces of you and your boyfriend. “There aren’t too many boxes so it shouldn’t take very long.”

“Great, ‘cos some of those were really hard to carry inside, even for me.”

“I know. Just a little more and then we can order takeout and sleep, okay?”

“Wait,” he says, screwing the cap tightly and placing it on top of one of the boxes. He hooks an arm around your waist and yanks you in so that you’re flush against his chest. Bokuto grins when you yelp in surprise, that sly, cheeky flash of teeth you fell in love with back in high school stretching across his face. “I need to borrow some strength.”

“Oh, you do? How do you plan to do that?” you tease, resting your palms on his broad chest.

“I have an idea or two.” Angling his head down, he kisses you softly, deeply, like he’s breathing you in, melting into you as you do him. The two of you stand there, in the middle of your new home, wrapped up in each other for a few, sweet moments before he pulls away, golden eyes gleaming with renewed vigour. “I feel like I could lift the whole house now!”

“Oh, that’s right!” he says to himself, bolting down the stairs to the living room. There, on the coffee table, peeping out of the stack of coasters, is the second clue. Snatching it up, he opens it. “Aha!”

Great work, baby! Since you seem to have such a good memory, you’ll have no problems with finding the next one:

Here, you switch from athlete to thief. Your greedy fingers know no rest.

“Thief? Not me.” Plopping down on the sofa, he cradles his cheek in his hand thoughtfully, mulling over the possibilities in his mind. *Well, unless you count stealing your heart,” he snickers and then shakes his head. “I need a snack to help me think.”

Hopping onto his feet, he meanders into the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards for something to nibble on before heading to the fridge. He scans its contents until his eyes land on a small, square box that he doesn’t recognise, which he pulls out. As he sets it down on the counter, he catches sight of a slip of paper taped to the top.

“What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” he flirts, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder, so that he can watch what your magic hands conjure up for dinner. You giggle and nudge him with the side of your head.

“That’s an awful one, Kou.”

“Maybe, but you’re still smiling! That counts as a win to me!” he squeezes you tightly, pulling another bubble of laughter out of you before he lets go and leans against the counter, the crackle and pop of hot oil drawing his attention to the stove. “So, what is cooking?”

You scoop out the contents currently bubbling away with a spider strainer, depositing it on a plate covered in kitchen paper to soak up the excess oil dripping off it. “Karaage,” you tell him, dipping back in with your strainer to take out the rest. While your attention is elsewhere, Bokuto sneakily pinches a piece of fried chicken between his fingers, hissing at how hot it is and almost dropping it. That grabs your attention, and you turn to scold him, only to find him huffing air and chewing at the same time.

“‘S good!” he gasps. “Buh ih’s sho hot!”

“You could’ve waited a few minutes!” His eyes crinkle in a grin as he swallows and kisses your cheek.

“I can’t help myself.”

And all of a sudden, it all clicks together like the flaps of the tupperware he was going to reach for. Greedy hands, it all makes sense! He chuckles to himself as he unfolds the third note, poring over it carefully as he lifts the lid on the box

A gasp escapes him at the sight of the contents. Cupcakes, four of them, are nestled inside, each iced with a swirl of white frosting and little pieces of fondant that read ‘30’. Plucking one out, he bites into it, the sweetness of vanilla buttercream and chocolate spilling over his tongue. He hums to himself as he chews, reading the note once, twice and thrice to make absolutely sure that he hasn’t missed a single detail.

I can without a doubt say that you’re snacking on these cupcakes right now. Your stomach has always been a black hole! Here’s the next clue Mr. Detective:

I bubble, I soothe, your best friend in a bottle.

“This one's easy!” he crows after a moment, polishing off his cupcake and placing the rest of them back in the fridge before making a beeline for the bathroom. In the cabinet beneath the sink are bottles upon bottles of bubble bath soap, each a different scent depending on his mood. If there’s one thing that Bokuto loves most in this world, besides you, it’s a hot soak after training or a game. He even keeps a little jar of bath bombs that fizz and stain the water (and sometimes the tub) in bright colours. Crouching on the floor, he checks each one for the third clue.

“Get in with me,” he insists as you hook his towel on the back of the door since he forgot to take it in with him again. He holds out a hand to you, beckoning for you to come closer, his hair soaked to his scalp and hanging down his temples. As handsome as he looks with his hair gelled back, you’ve always thought he looks best when it sits naturally, all soft and fluffy after he washes it.

Taking his hand, you let him pull you closer, his hand wet and warm from the water. “But I’ve got stuff to do, Kou. Maybe next time?”

Smirking, he leans up to kiss you, letting his lips linger on yours, like it’s an incentive. “I’m stuff. Do me.”

The snort that slips out of you makes him laugh too and you look at him fondly for a moment before rolling your eyes and slipping off your top. “Alright, fine. But only if you stop using those awful lines on me.”

“No promises, baby,” he says, raptly watching you undress with unabashed adoration in his eyes. “Why would I stop if they always work on you?”

Finally, he spots a slip of white on his favourite bottle, tucked behind the rest. When he pulls it out, a basket comes along with it, tied off with a bow and filled with an assortment of soaps and salts. He grins, taking a moment to inhale the perfume of each one before he gets back to the task at hand.

Peeling the note away, he gets comfy on the floor of the bathroom, quickly glancing at his watch before he starts to read. He’s already been at this for forty minutes. Just two to go and he can have whatever prize you’ve got ready for him. “Okay, let’s see...”

Almost there! You’re doing so well, sweetie. I really hope you like the new bath stuff I got for you! Here’s your next clue:

I’m your favourite pair, worn with love.

“Favourite pair?” he wonders aloud. Pair of what? Glasses? Earrings? Compression sleeves? Underwear? Idly, he wonders why they call it a pair when there’s only one, but regardless, he heads to the bedroom, back where he started, because he does indeed have a favourite pair of underwear. It’s an odd place to hide the last clue, that’s for sure, but he still rummages through his own drawer and then yours (he has his favourites there, too). Anything is possible at this point. But when his search comes up empty, he sits on the edge of the bed, scanning the room for what other ‘pair’ he can find, when his eyes land on your shoes, shoved haphazardly in one of your shoe boxes.

That’s got to be it.

But which pair would be worn down with love?

“Here.”

A box is placed into his hands, wrapped neatly in silvery wrapping paper. It’s about the size of one of his shoeboxes. He shakes it with a giddy grin to try and gauge what’s inside.

“What is it?”

“Just open it.”

Unable to contain his excitement, he tears through the wrapping paper, unveiling the logo of the brand that makes his volleyball shoes emblazoned on the lid of the shoebox. His eyes widen as he looks at you, then his gift, then back at you.

“Open the box!” you laugh, shaking him by the bicep. Carefully, he lifts the lid to find a pristine pair of white sneakers, in his size, not a scuff in sight. “Your other ones have seen better days so I thought I should get you a nicer pair to wear to official matches.”

“You’re the best,” he says sincerely, leaning over to kiss your temple.

“You haven’t looked at them yet,” you grin.

“Huh?” His brows furrow as he takes one of them out, pulling out the paper stuffing and peeks inside, looking for this unknown ‘something’ you’re alluding to.

“Outside,” you tell him, gently taking it out of his hand and showing him the back of it. Written in tiny script are the words ‘my sun’. “The other shoe says ‘my star’.”

Back to his wardrobe he goes, digging around for that very shoebox, stumbling across a gift bag in his search. Inside, are those same shoes along with an outfit and a sealed bottle of perfume. You’re really spoiling him. Flinging the lid off the box, he finds the flash of paper and pulls out the final piece of the puzzle. Excitement thrums in his veins as he carefully eases it open and smoothes out the creases.

Congratulations! This is is your final clue, the one you need to help you find me!

I love you, I love you, now and always, in every year to come. Come find your beloved at the place we third met.

P.S. I left you a little something, so dress nice handsome x

“God, I love you,” he mumbles to himself, a wide grin stretching from cheek to cheek as he springs into action. Because he knows exactly where this place is, how could he ever forget? As he showers and dresses in your gift and styles his hair, he replays that whole night in his mind. Your third date, at what is now his favourite restaurant in the city, not just because of the food but because of the memories.

It had been the night before his 18th birthday and he’d been giddy with nerves. The past two dates he’d taken you on had been magical and Bokuto just knew he wanted you to be his. So, he waited until the end of the date. He walked you to your door, his large hand intertwined with yours, a smile on your lips as he bid you goodnight. And just as you slipped your key into the lock, he tapped you on the shoulder and presented you with a dainty little necklace and a simple request. And you’d said yes right as the clock struck 12.

That was his favourite birthday.

After an admittedly reckless drive to that same restaurant, Bokuto hurries inside, his eyes wildly scanning the place for a glimpse of you, giving the receptionist your name when he doesn’t spot you. She leads him over to a room off to the side that’s usually reserved for groups, concealed by a screen for the sake of privacy. When she lets him in, his ears are immediately assaulted by choruses of ‘surprise!’ and the loud pop pop pop of party poppers. Each of his friends and family are assembled in the room, all wearing wide smiles and in the centre of it all, is you. Beautiful, wonderful you.

“Happy birthday, baby!” you smile, making your way over to him and kissing him chastely as his arms snake around your waist. His warm, sunshine gaze meets your sparkling one and his heart sighs with raw adoration. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

Pecking your lips, he grins and shakes his head. “Not for a second.”

#this characterization of him is sooooosososo good!!!#him pouting and sulking at the lack of attention #then immediately flipping to determined lil guy #all the little memories are so sweet #i’m gonna melt #also in my mind he canonically likes bubble baths now i think that’s my fav bit out of all this #this was so so sweet thank u #🥟.bokuto

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