❝ I LIKE HIS STUPID SMILE, BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT ❞ ── boboiboy
━━━ SHE DOESN'T KNOW ᝰ.ᐟ
this is one of my one-shots in my wattpad. decided to post it here too, editing this is a hassle lmao since i'm not used to writing in tumblr, so ignore the errors that might appear when you're reading.
credits to the owner of the dividers!
𐔌 𝜗ৎ 𐦯 FANDOM.ᐟ boboiboy galaxy
𐔌 𝜗ৎ 𐦯 PAIRINGS.ᐟ boboiboy x fem! reader
The day Boboiboy realised (Y/n) liked him was so mind-bendingly stupid it could’ve been ripped from the pages of a bad fanfic — the kind that starts with a slapstick accident, some oddly specific internal monologue, and ends with the hero walking face-first into a tree. And that’s exactly what happened. Because he did, in fact, walk into a tree. But we’ll get to that.
It started like any other day: the sun shining too brightly for anyone to be emotionally stable, birds chirping like they’d just won the lottery, and Gopal screaming about the injustice of his last cookie mysteriously disappearing — which was ironic, considering he ate it. The air at TAPOPS B base was buzzing, both from the machinery in the background and the general chaos that was the norm with this group of superpowered teenagers.
Boboiboy had just finished sparring with Fang, lost miserably, and was now half-limping toward the common room where the promise of a cold drink and possibly a nap awaited. But fate, as always, had other plans.
He passed by the lab on his way — not unusual, not particularly noteworthy — except today, the door was ajar. And he heard something.
Not a crash. Not an explosion. Not even a "Gopal, that is not edible!". No, what Boboiboy heard was a voice. Her voice.
(Y/n) was talking to herself. Or maybe to Ochobot — he wasn’t sure — but either way, she clearly didn’t know anyone else was within earshot. He was about to knock, to say hey, to announce his extremely sweaty and mildly bruised presence, but then her words froze him in place.
"I know it’s stupid," she said, voice soft, casual, but with that underlying nervous energy she only got when she was hiding something, "but I think… I think I like him."
Boboiboy’s brain did what all socially awkward teenaged boy brains do when they hear their crush likes someone: it malfunctioned.
A flurry of panicked thoughts smashed into each other like atoms in a nuclear reactor. Her? Crush? Who? Was it Fang? No, please not Fang— Could it be Gopal? No, he’s like a brother— Is it me? Wait—
"Boboiboy’s just… nice. And stupid. And—ugh. He has that dumb smile. You know the one. It’s annoying."
Boboiboy’s soul left his body.
He staggered back, eyes wide, heart doing somersaults like it was training for the Olympics, and proceeded to walk directly into the tree just outside the lab. He yelped, stumbled back, then tried to pretend it didn’t happen while simultaneously reeling from what he’d just heard.
She liked him. She liked him. (Y/n) liked—him.
It was, objectively speaking, the best moment of his life. Which is exactly why he had no idea what to do with it.
He didn’t tell her.
He should’ve. Any rational, emotionally stable person would have. But Boboiboy? He wasn’t rational. Or emotionally stable. He was seventeen and in love and his entire game plan now revolved around smiling too hard and hovering awkwardly around her until she somehow, magically, noticed.
So the next day, everything changed. Subtly. Stupidly. Obviously.
"Good morning, (Y/n)!" he greeted her with the kind of grin that made her tilt her head and squint at him like he’d just grown a second nose.
"Uh… morning?" she said, a little uncertainly, sipping her drink. "You okay?"
"Perfect! I mean. I slept great. Had a dream about… mangoes. Great mangoes. Very juicy."
"…Right." She nodded slowly, like she was trying to remember if mango dreams were a sign of illness.
He didn’t stop there. He followed her around a lot more. Not in a creepy way — he hoped, but in the overly helpful "hey you need help with that oh I’ll carry that no really I insist" kind of way.
He brought her snacks, shared his umbrella even though she clearly had her own, and made the effort to sit beside her at literally every team meeting. At first, it went unnoticed. But over the next week…
"You okay, Boboiboy?" Ying asked him one day, as she caught him staring at (Y/n) for the fifth time in two minutes.
"What? Oh, yeah. Totally," he said, then laughed nervously and dropped his spoon into his soup.
"You sure? You’ve been acting kind of… jumpy lately. And weird. Weirder than usual."
He opened his mouth to deny it, but then (Y/n) walked into the room with her hair a little messy and her hoodie too big and his brain short-circuited all over again.
"I’m fine," he squeaked.
(Y/n), meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware.
Not because she was clueless — though, okay, maybe a little, but because she’d convinced herself that he’d never like her back. That he was Boboiboy — the superpowered leader, the guy who’d saved planets, the boy with sunshine in his veins — and she was… her.
So every time he smiled too long or sat too close, she just assumed it was him being friendly. He was friendly. He was sunshine and thunderstorms and stupid jokes. He smiled at everyone.
Even when he did things that should’ve made her suspicious — like offering her his hoodie when it wasn’t even cold, or handing her her favourite drink before she’d even said what she wanted — she chalked it up to "Boboiboy just being nice."
One evening, they were sitting on the roof of the base. Stars were overhead. The breeze was cool. Their shoulders were brushing. Clearly romantic.
He was trying so hard to play it cool.
"So, uh… any new crushes lately?" he asked, voice high and casual in the way that was definitely not casual.
She blinked. "Crushes? Me?"
He nodded, way too eager. "Yeah! I mean, just curious. You’re always kinda quiet about that stuff."
She laughed, brushing hair from her face. "Not really. I don’t think anyone’d be interested."
"What? No way! You’re amazing!"
She turned to look at him, surprised.
He froze. "I mean—not like—uh—platonically amazing! Like—you know—general amazingness. Objectively."
She smiled. "Thanks, I guess?"
He smiled too. Too hard. Like a man trying to suppress a nuclear grin.
It got worse.
Boboiboy started plotting. Tiny things. Stupid things. Matchmaking schemes designed to make himself the match.
He’d ask Gopal to bail mid-conversations so he could get alone time with her. He’d ask for her help training, then "accidentally" trip and land closer than necessary. He even tried to get Ochobot to play a romantic song during one of their walks, only for it to blare "Barbie Girl" at full volume. He still hasn’t lived that down.
Gopal figured it out first.
"You like her," he said flatly one day, as they cleaned up after a mission.
Boboiboy dropped the crate he was holding. "Whaaat? Noooooo."
Gopal just stared.
"Okay, maybe."
"I KNEW IT. You’ve been all heart-eyes and awkward stuttering. It’s embarrassing."
Boboiboy groaned. "She likes me too but doesn’t know I know, and I don’t want to freak her out!"
"Then tell her!"
"I CAN’T."
"Why not?!"
"BECAUSE THEN IT’LL BE REAL AND I’LL PANIC."
Gopal sighed. "You’re already panicking."
"Correct."
Eventually, the others started noticing too. Fang gave him the "don’t mess this up" look. Ying and Yaya started whispering and giggling every time he entered a room. Tok Aba, somehow, gave him a knowing pat on the back and just said, "She’s a good one."
He wanted to say something. He really did. But every time she laughed or smiled or nudged him with her elbow, he turned into a puddle of teenaged nerves and cosmic electricity.
And (Y/n)? She continued being completely, gloriously oblivious.
Until one day.
It was raining. The kind of soft, soothing rain that made the world feel quieter.
They were stuck inside — some mission delay, power blip, something or other — and the base was full of sleepy sighs and card games. Boboiboy sat on the couch. (Y/n) joined him, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She yawned.
He offered her his shoulder.
She blinked. "You sure?"
He nodded, heart racing. "Yeah. Totally fine. Just… if you’re tired."
She hesitated. Then leaned in. Rested her head against him. Warm. Comfortable. Perfect.
They sat like that for minutes. Hours. Or maybe it just felt that way.
Then she mumbled something. Barely audible.
"What?" he asked, heart skipping.
"I said… you feel nice," she repeated softly, not opening her eyes.
He swallowed. Then, so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, "I know you like me."
Silence.
Her eyes flew open. "You—what—?"
He laughed nervously. "I heard you. That day. In the lab."
Her face turned every shade of red imaginable. "OH MY GOD—"
"It’s okay!" he blurted. "I like you too! A lot! I’ve been trying to tell you without… telling you."
She stared. "Wait, all the… smiling? The snacks? The weird hovering?"
He nodded sheepishly.
She blinked. "You’re an idiot."
"I know," he said, smiling widely. "But I’m your idiot. If you want."
She groaned, shoved his arm, then leaned back in.
"…I do," she muttered.
And he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
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