#konoboku

[nanisketchs]

So i kept thinking about an au where konoha meets bokuaka using tinder and i had to get it out of my brain, so ill probably continue it!

i just love these three

[gumihoni]

konoboku is so underappreciated ;_;

[notsuchasecret]

Oh! Trick or treat with konoboku?

come trick-or-treat in my inbox requesting ficcies and I’ll either treat you to some fluff or humor or trick you with a horribly twisted sad AU  (I’ll use a random generator to pick trick or treat)

Treat

Bokuto flinched for the third time in as many minutes, huddling deeper into his pile of blankets. Akinori snorted, wrapping his arms firmly around the bundle and leaning back. Bokuto flinched again.

“Scared, captain?” he asked. Bokuto laughed, a high and hysterical sound.

“Not on your life,” he squeaked. Akinori chuckled, watching the way the light from the television screen cast Bokuto’s face into sharp contrast. The screaming and sound of mutilation coming from the movie barely registered as he watched Bokuto squeak and press closer. He should have thought of a scary movie marathon months ago, if it meant getting to hold Bokuto like this.

[fairylights101writes]

sky ur gonna make me cry ugly tears i know it,,, bokukono and 3 o.o

3. “Despite what many think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”Read on AO3

Konoha clutched at Bokuto, feet not quite cooperating with him, the world blurry, but also warm. There were sturdy arms wrapped around him, deliciously thick, and the fresh scent of his cologne left Konoha dizzy, pressing his nose into Bokuto’s neck in the desperate search for more. Bokuto only laughed, though it sounded a little strange, but Konoha paid it no mind as his hands tightened in Bokuto’s shirt. “How close ‘re we t’ home?” he slurred quietly.

Bokuto grunted, hitched him up a little higher, fingers tightening on Konoha’s waist. “Not close enough… Hey, Konoha, this isn’t working. Wanna get on my back?”

Konoha’s eyes fluttered open. Bokuto’s wide golden eyes were on him, and for a moment, he almost forgot how to speak, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, but he slowly nodded. Bokuto smiled, leaving strange sensations bubbling away in Konoha like the wine had, but they moved slowly until he could flop on Bokuto’s back. His friend tugged on his arms, pulled them around his neck. “Hold tight.”

“I am,” Konoha grumbled, but he tightened his arms on Bokuto anyways as his friend curled his hands under his thighs and hitched him up. Konoha let his head loll forward, nose settling into the crook of Bokuto’s neck. His gel had started to loosen its grip on his hair, leaving black and white strands trailing across his face, tickling his nose, and Konoha smiled. His hair smelled good. Like coconuts. His fingers wiggled. “Tell me a story?”

Bokuto snorted. “I’ll just have to tell you again when you’re sober.”

“Koutarou,” he whined. The fingers on his thighs twitched, and Bokuto sighed softly, but he nodded and started to walk. “Well there’s the time when I got locked in the cleaning supply closet-”

“Told me already,” he mumbled.

Bokuto laughed quietly, shook his head, and hummed softly. “Well, have I told you about the guy I like?”

Konoha’s head rose slightly, a strange tightness filling his belly. “Huh?”

Bokuto’s shoulders hitched with a laugh, soft and warm, and Konoha nuzzled closer, fingers twitching on his chest as he leaned closer.

“Tell?”

Bokuto hitched him up a little higher, squeezed his thighs. “He’s super pretty. His name’s Akaashi Keiji, and he’s got this beautiful curly hair and-”

Konoha’s mind cut out. He knew Akaashi. Knew how breathtaking the man was, with perfect hair he practically rolled out of bed with, sleepy eyes that were sharp, piercing in their intense silver stare that threatened to strip people bare as he analyzed them in the space of seconds. Akaashi, who had long, slender hands - perfect for a setter, a pianist, for anything really. Akaashi, who was tall and slim, yet still wiry with muscle from playing volleyball - volleyball, something Konoha and Bokuto had played together since middle school, through the braces and acne and bullying, through the ups and downs and everything between. Akaashi, who was infinitely better than him in every way. Akaashi, who Bokuto liked.

It shouldn’t have felt like someone had hit him, but it did, and Konoha couldn’t quite breathe, mouth flapping like his pet goldfish’s as he stared blankly over Bokuto’s shoulder to the concrete that his friend ate up with long, steady strides. Bokuto hadn’t drunk as much as he had, hadn’t tried to bury the last few weeks of stress beneath tequila and rum and God knew what else. Bokuto, despite what everyone else said, was smart. Smart and gay and- In love with someone else.

“Good luck,” he whispered quietly in a lull, and Bokuto’s fingers twitched on his thighs.

“Thanks dude,” Bokuto hummed back. “I’m just… so nervous! Akaashi is so cool and brilliant and, like! Oh God, Konoha, he’s just- what if I look stupid in front of him? It’s just so nerve-wracking and-!”

“Kou…” he mumbled, clenching his eyes shut, “Please stop…”

Bokuto clammed up immediately, steps faltering. “You okay? Need to puke?”

“No… jus’ loud.”

“Sorry…”

Konoha shook his head, pressed his face into Bokuto’s shoulder. Didn’t care that tears spilled from his eyes and onto Bokuto’s shoulder, utterly foolish and irrational. Why? I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be upset. He can like whoever he wants. That doesn’t mean we have to change. But it stung, more than the countless spikes he’d caught straight to the body, more than the time he’d fallen and slice himself open on a nail, more than, well, anything. But he still pressed close, curled his fingers into Bokuto’s shirt, and waited it out.

Soon enough they were back at the apartment complex, Bokuto letting them in with a few taps of his fingers, albeit a little awkward while trying to hold Konoha up, but they managed to make it to the fifth floor and inside with no trouble. Bokuto set him down on the lip of the entryway, tugged at his shoes as Konoha slumped forward, biting his lip. Desperately trying to not imagine Bokuto kissed Akaashi, them holding hands, going on dates. This isn’t normal. I’m Bokuto’s friend, this-

“Akinori.” He blinked, glanced up. Bokuto’s brows were scrunched together, golden eyes boring into him. “Are you okay? You were crying. You’re so quiet...”

“‘m fine,” he grunted, “Just tired.”

“You sure?”

He narrowed his eyes, shoved himself upright. Bokuto was up in an instant, hands shooting out to steady Konoha as he swayed, but he batted those blessedly familiar hands away with a sneer. “Despite what many think, ‘m completely capable of taking care of myself,” he bit out. Bokuto’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything as Konoha spun around and staggered through the apartment, one hand finding the wall as he slowly made his way to his room, head spinning, chest tightening.

He barely managed to shut the door to his room before his legs buckled and he sank to the ground, fingers to his chest as he sucked down harsh breaths, silent tears streaking down his cheeks. Why did I say that? What the fuck? But there was no good answer, nothing that could chase away the ache, the lingering warmth, the stabbing sensation from Bokuto’s words. Why? Why? What’s happening?

Konoha could only shake his head and bow over, press his forehead to the cool floor and hug himself tight as he cried, desperately trying to cobble together what little he could, even though everything was spiraling out, unreachable.

[nanisketchs]

part 1 

so im continuing this...

konoha acts all indifferent at first

so bokuto wont be ready when he opens up

[paraplyen]

There’s not enough BokuKono in this world.