#heatwave2021

warnings:18+, fluff and eventual smut, mild angst

w/c: 10.1k

a/n: hiya! this is my fic for the heat wave 2021 fic exchange (@heatwave2021) and i wrote it for cath ( @sailormiya​ )! I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT BECAUSE I FELL IN LOVE WITH THE PROMPT (AND WHILE WRITING THIS I ALSO FELL IN LOVE W MAKKI) AND ASHDFDKAIDSFLKFIKDS!!!!!! also huge HUGE thank you to both cath and amy ( @/saetyrn9 ) for putting this whole fic exchange together <3 this was my first time doing something like this and it was genuinely so so fun.

extra a/n because i talk too much: special makki lover tag for @hoekageyama​ hehe. also if you know the song that the title is from, you get a gold star from yours truly and also assurance that your music taste is elite.

prompt: you take a trip to a luxurious, recently renovated onsen in the mountains but of course it’s your luck that your ex is also there with his new girlfriend. good thing your childhood best friend is with you to provide a distraction.

the warm water is… therapeutic. you can feel the heat seeping into your bones, the sweat sticking to your skin, the wispy white steam weaving through your pores; this is the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks. months,even. 

your body sinks further into the pool, the water lapping at your chest and neck until you’ve comfortably rested with the water line just under your chin. it’s so easy to forget what life was like before this, what life will be like after this—all there is is the now, and the now has you on some plane of absolute peace. every worry of yours seems to be carried off into the gentle strawberry-scented breeze that dashes teasingly through your hair. it’s so calming, so tranquil,your muscles loosening and mind melting until you feel you could truly just fall asleep…

cold droplets of water shock the warm skin of your face and startle you out of nirvana. your eyes jerk open, and immediately lock on the culprit.

hanamaki smiles evilly at you, eyes crinkling in amusement, his hand resting along the surface of the pool, poised to strike again.

“hanamaki,” you say in warning. “don’t you dare.”

“orwhat?” he chuckles, the freckles rippling across his face. you make a mental note to scold him about not wearing enough sunscreen later. “you gonna punch me and jam your finger again?”

your face warms at the memory, and it’s not just the heat of the onsen that’s at fault. 

you were five, maybe six, and too-hyped up on the adrenaline that comes with watching some children’s action movie, when you decided to punish hanamaki for stealing your toy. you had the bright idea of punching him, just like the movie’s protagonist had, only you were one stunt-double short. long story short, you’d burst into tears and bruised your thumb, the nail throbbing over sore skin, while he taunted you all the while.

“youasshole, that was like a gazillion years ago.” you make a grabby hands motion, squinting so that his neck was centered right where your fingers were squeezing. “and besides, there’s more effective things i can do with my hands when i want to shut you up.”

he cocks an eyebrow in challenge. “oh yeah? like what?”

“i could choke you out.”

his smile grows wider, revealing the dimple on one of his cheeks. “that’s pretty kinky.”

you scrunch up your nose in distaste. “you’re nasty.”

“you love it.”

“i most certainly do not.”

“admit it. you do.”

“you’re delusional.”

you lapse back into a round of bickering like from when you were kids, the peace from moments before now completely gone. you’re just about to make true on your threat, hands dangerously close to clamping down around hanamaki’s stupid throat, when you see a man coming up along the path behind him. 

your heart drops. there’s no fucking way. 

“hanamaki,” you say a little hushed and a little quick. “hide me.”

the taunting expression on his face falters as he furrows his eyebrows. “huh?”

“don’t question it.” you tear your eyes away from the man and bring them back to his. “just… hide me.”

“hide you from what?”

your eyes impulsively glance behind him, and you try to play it off, but it’s obvious enough for him to register the movement. he cranes his neck, almost turning his whole body to look. 

“don’t be obvious about it,” you hiss, smacking the back of his head.

you can see when his eyes lock on the subject of your haste and his back stiffens in recognition.

“shit.”

“yeah,” you say sarcastically. “‘shit.’ now hide me alrea—”

“—how am i supposed to hide you?” he asks, a little panicked. “we’re in a pool!”

“i don’t fucking know! just… do something!”

he thinks for a second, while you search his face expectantly, as if his freckles will rearrange and spell out some kind of solution.

he opens his mouth with an idea and you sigh in relief.

“how long can you hold your breath for?”

“ohgod,” you groan. “you’re hopeless.”

“welli’mnot the one that wants to hide!”

“fuck it,” you mutter, watching him get nearer and nearer. “i’m making a run for it.”

hanamaki takes a peek again. you want to throttle him.

“are you sure you’re gonna make it? he’s right—shit, he saw me.”

your eyes widen as he raises his hand in what you assume is a wave. 

“what the fuck did you do?” you ask scarily slow, voice shrill, borderline frenzied.

“i didn’t do anything! hesawme!”

“well, make him un-see you!” you say desperately. the man gets into earshot, and hearing his voice makes your chest tighten. you bury your hands in your head, your cold, pruney fingers pressing at your temples. “oh my god, i can’t believe this is happening.”

“act normal,” hanamaki stage-whispers. “he’s coming over.”

“i can’t do this.”

he winces as another figure seems to be walking with the first one.

“well, you better, 'cause he’s got a girl with him.”

your head shoots up. “he… what?”

you immediately regret looking up, because he sees you, and you realize that you are unequivocally fucked, because there is absolutely no way to get out of this now.

your name is called out in that deep, rich voice of his, that same voice that once used to make your cheeks warm and now only makes your blood turn to ice. it’s followed by a “makki! it’s been so long since i’ve seen you guys!”

it has, hasn’t it, matsuwaka issei, boyfriend of two and a half years, ex of six months and thirteen days?

it’s really nothing but chance that found you and hanamaki at this fancy resort. you’d hadn’t seen each other in months, and spoken in the same amount of time. you were inseparable for a long while, and then the teenage years split you apart because of cooties and puberty, and things after that never really were the same. 

the last time you interacted was probably graduation. or when he helped you pack your bags for university. or maybe when you called him to check on your house since your parents thought they left the stove on. thinking back, maybe you’re closer than you first thought.

but anyway, it’s still really just one big coincidence that you were both in your hometown for this summer. 

hanamaki moved back home after failing to settle down with a job, but if anyone asks, it’s because he’s still 'finding himself'—whatever that means. 

and you? well, the internship you’d secured for the summer got moved to the fall semester, and aside from picking up a barista gig at the coffee shop around the corner, there wasn’t much for you to do in your small university town. your parents convinced you to come home, at least for a month, and you figured that there was no point in staying in your apartment, paying its too-high rent, when its lease was going to expire anyway.

that, and also you wanted to spend time with your family, be around those you love, yada yada yada.

it’s funny, because the moment you and hanamaki saw each other at the supermarket, forced by your respective families to get 'off your asses and do something productive for once’ in the form of buying groceries, it’s like you never were apart. it was almost natural, the way you fell back into the rhythm of your primary school days. to be honest, it was probably just comforting to be back in the company of someone your age—it’s not like there’s all that many twenty-somethings hanging out in the suburbs.

things were dull until hanamaki won one of those stupid instagram vacation giveaways that he’s been entering, and just as quick as your parents insisted that you come home, they insisted that you go off and explore the country again. 

not that you were complaining—hometown life was really boring. and mundane. it’s no wonder that hanamaki had gone a little crazy being cooped up in there for so long, at least, months longer than you had.

so it’s really just one big and fortunate series of events that have you at this fancy place right now.

but as for your ex-boyfriend being at the same resort at the same time? you can’t chalk that up to coincidence—a curse makes more sense.

because there’s no valid explanation as to why issei—no, matsuwaka—the boy you’d pined after for all of high school, the very same boy that you were convinced you’d start a life with and then who subsequently crushed your stupid fucking heart while standing on your apartment doorstep, is here,ofall places.

so much for relaxing—your blood pressure is off the charts.

if you ever have the self-destructive tendency to relive that night, you remember that things didn’t end well. there was barely any closure, just a surprise visit to your university’s campus ending with tears and an awkward goodbye.

you can blame it on a lot of things: distance, immaturity, general incompatibility. you can reason through it all you want, and you’ve tried, but that doesn’t make things any easier, does it? 

you can’t 'logic’ you way out of heartbreak. that’s just not how it works. so you work through it and you go out with friends and you delete his pictures and you cry yourself to sleep and you wake up the next morning and you work through it. 

but of course the moment you find a distraction big and rambunctious enough in the form of a stupid strawberry blond-haired shithead that knows more about you then he probably should, everything comes back to bite you in the ass.

what the fuck? you silently ask the man upstairs or satan or, you don’t know, the tooth fairy for fuck’s sake. genuinely, what the fuck?

“hanamaki, i seriously can’t do this.”

“he’s coming right now. are you gonna run like a coward or stand your ground like a—”

“—first option. first option sounds great.”

he turns deadly serious. “if you’re still gonna let that breakup control your life, i swear i will cancel this trip right now and ship us both back home. take that stick out of your ass and beat him to death with it.”

hanamaki does tough love, and he’s especially tough on you regarding matsuwaka because he knows the whole story. you told him one night, drunk out of your mind at the local bar, and for the most part, he’s on your side. sure, he and matsuwaka were relatively good friends back in high school, but that was a long time ago. a really long time ago,

hell, you thought you were going to marry matsuwaka back in high school. basically three eternities have passed since then.

you grit your teeth. “fine. i’ll be all smiley andyou’llbe all smiley and he’ll be all smiley and we can all pretend that everything’s okay.”

“don’t forget that he brought a girl with him. she’ll be all smiley, too.”

as if he needed to rub salt in the wound. as if you weren’t already feeling your heart dissolve into your bloodstream and pool out of your ears at the mere sight of him, he’s with someone else.

you almost want to laugh. someone else! every morning you wake up and beat back nostalgic memories of him with a stick and he’s with someone else!

you suck in a breath. “i’m gonna shit my pa—”

“hey guys!” matsuwaka jogs the last few feet over, stupidly tall frame and all, smiley as predicted, hand-in-hand with some other girl. “it’s been forever!”

hanamaki gets out of the onsen, dripping wet, and hugs him, mouthing a 'you’re welcome’ to you over his shoulder. you stifle a laugh at how matsuwaka tries to politely shrink away, failing to avoid getting soaked.

hanamaki pulls away and matsuwaka grimaces slightly at the darkened fabric of his shirt.

“mattsun,dude, you gotta visit home sometime. my mom keeps asking about you.”

oh yeah, mattsun. that’s what everyone used to call him. you vow not to do so, simply out of spite. the name gives you a bit of an idea, though.

he turns to the girl next to him. you can’t even find it in you to be mad at her, because it’s not her fault and you know that. you spare one thought about her—she’s pretty—and then promptly try to focus your frustrations on the real culprit on her right.

“kaiya, this is makki. we were really good friends in high school.”

she nods, introducing herself and shakes hanamaki’s wet hand. you feel a sick sense of satisfaction when she subtly wipes her palm on her pants.

“and this is,” he gestures to you, smile a little strained as he gives your name, “we were also friends way back when.”

oh, so that’s how we’re going to do this, you think. well, this is a two-player game, isn’t it?

“way back when,” you joke. you get up to stand next to hanamaki and ruffle his hair, laughing when he gives you a dirty look. “but since—oh, i don’t know, six months ago—takahiro,” the name feels natural rolling off of your tongue—it’s all you used to call him when you were little, “and i have been catching up. ” matsuwaka’s jaw tenses and hanamaki shoots you a furtive nod of approval at the use of his given name.

“glad to hear that,” he replies, a twinge of annoyance in his tone. “how’s uni going?” 

“well, things get lonely away from home, but the distance really helps you learn which people are worth your time and energy, which people are worth sticking around for, you know?” you say to matsuwaka, gaze even. “how’ve you been?”

he averts his eyes for just a second, glancing to the side with a satisfying flaring of his nostrils, before responding. “…good. got a promotion, moved in with this one,” you cock an eyebrow at that, “and finally figured out how to use a keurig machine.”

you fight the instinct to roll your eyes at his poor attempt to soften the blow of the bomb he dropped. he moved in with his new girlfriend? you remember flashes of conversations, spanning the last year of your relationship, with him on that same exact topic, always ending with frustration and half-hearted apologies. and he just decides to move in with her after… you don’t even know how many months. or weeks. days?

“congrats!” hanamaki claps him on the back a little harder than warranted, fingers digging into his shoulder. “i’ve been trying to figure out those fuckers for ages. my coffee’s always too strong.” you’re glad that hanamaki is able to pivot away from… that absolute grenade of news, but the ringing in your ears makes it hard to appreciate that.

kira—kiya? kaya? oh, kaiya—kaiya whispers something in her boyfriend’s ear about ‘reservations’ and he nods, running his hand up her back.

“hey, it was really great catching up, but we’ve got a dinner to make. we’ll see you around?”

“definitely, man. was great seeing you.”

you watch as the stupid smiley couple walk away. hanamaki turns to you with his hands on his hips and an amused grin.

“’takahiro’, huh?”

pushing him away, you gather your stuff. it’s taking everything in you not to scream.

“i need a drink.”

“it’s not that i have a problem with her, 'cause i don’t,” you slur, swirling your half-empty glass in a circle. “and don’t think i’m commenting on their relationship, 'cause i’m not. i know nothing about them. it’s just,” you pause your rambling to take a swig of the alcohol, barely cringing as the heat warms the back of your throat. it’s your fourth one in an hour, and the bartender keeps giving you cautious looks. “they’ve been together for just a few… months? i mean, unless he got with her the day he dumped me, it hasn’t even been that long. isn’t that a bit soon to move in with someone?”

“i hear ya,” hanamaki responds, deftly snatching your drink and gulping it down before you can protest. he winces as the alcohol stings his mouth. “but it’s not my problem. or yours for that matter. so just forget it.”

“i’mtrying,” you whine, head falling forward onto the sticky table. “but two and a half years is really long, hanamaki.”

“just say makki like everyone else. you don’t have the brain cells to spare for four syllables right now.”

“but two years is really long, makki,” you repeat. “d'you think he’s overcompensating? like trying to speed-run this relationship 'cause he,” you hiccup, “'cause he wasted so much time on me?”

your eyebrows furrow as you contemplate what you just said, well, contemplating the best you can with the burn of alcohol in your veins. your eyes, quickly glossing over with unshed tears, shoot to makki’s, lips jutting out in a pout. 

“d'you think he thinks he wasted his time with me?” you ask quietly.

he takes a quick intake of breath, his hands coming up to squish the sides of your face. “here’s what we’re not gonna do,” he says, very slowly. “we’re not gonna sit here and drown in our sorrows about old exes. we’re gonna have fun and leave the past in the past.”

you nod, letting his words sink in. the cogs operating in your brain—albeit manually, and under the influence—start turning, and you come to an obvious conclusion.

“yeah!” you shout, louder than necessary. “i’m gonna hook up with somebody!”

you make a quick grab for your purse, almost missing it in your borderline-drunk haze, and push yourself to stand up. your hands dig into the side of the table as the whole world sways—why is everything spinning?

makki’s arms wrap around your body to stabilize you, and you let yourself lean into him. he’s warm, and smells earthy, like sesame seeds. it’s a distinct smell, one that used to waft through his house when you’d come over for snacks after a grueling day of fractions and multiplication tables. 

you unconsciously nuzzle into the fabric of his shirt, letting him flood your senses, because for some reason, this feels so right. this feels so… familiar.

he stiffens underneath you, suddenly hyper-aware of the wispy strands of your hair that are out of place, the cute, dazed look in your eyes, and the small, tipsy smile you’re giving him.

his pulse is so loud that he’s surprised that you can’t hear his heart rattling his ribs.

“maybe that’s not the best idea right now,” he mutters into your ear. “i’m taking you back to the room.”

“makki,” you mumble as he stumbles out of the bar with you latched onto his side. “am i inherently unlovable?”

“you’re inherently an idiot,” is the only response you get.

you wake up with stiff limbs and a pounding headache, groaning lowly as you try to take in your surroundings. with a cursory peek downwards, you see that you’re still wearing your clothes from last night, and only managed to get one of your shoes off. your head is pressed into something hard and warm and… you rub your eyes, clearing your vision and deduce that yes, i fell asleep makki’s chest.

you let your gaze trail up his neck. you have to admit that he looks handsome when his face isn’t marred by some mischievous smirk and those evil, narrowed eyes that makes your blood curdle. some voice in the back of your head says that you wouldn’t mind waking up to this everyday: the feeling of his stomach rising and falling under your arm, the sound of his breath whistling through his pursed lips, the view that gives you the perfect opportunity to count the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose.

you really wouldn’t mind it. that fact makes you frown a little, and you dispel your discomfort by flicking his forehead.

“mornin’ sunshine!”

he jerks, hitting the headboard, and immediately groans in pain. “goddamn, you bitch. i was having a nice dream.”

“oh yeah?” you sit up, blinking stars out of your vision, before standing on your wobbly feet. “'bout what?”

he rubs the crown of his head, looking at you with an indecipherable expression. “nothing. i forgot it.”

“then how do you know it was nice?”

“i just do.”

“whatever.” pull your shirt off while stepping into the bathroom, and makki’s eyes track the path of the fabric up, up, up, revealing the skin of your back and your stomach and… you disappear behind the door. he feels a pang of disappointment when you walk out of his line of sight and then does a double-take because what the fuck? why does his chest feel all bubbly?

did i have too much to drink last night?

“what’s planned for today?” you call out, voice echoing off the porcelain of the bathroom.

“why’re you asking me that as if i have something planned?” he grumbles, grabbing the remote from the side table and turning it on. “we can hike or something.”

you stick your head out, winking at him, disappearing fast enough so that you don’t notice the pink along his cheekbones. he’s starting to think that he has alcohol poisoning or something because he has no idea what is happening to him. 

“hiking it is then.”

“hikingsucks,” you groan, finishing the last drops of lukewarm water from the singular bottle you have left. “i’m so thirsty.andtired.andhot.” a sticky droplet of sweat drags along your face, and you halfheartedly swipe it away.

“for the record, this was your idea,” makki retorts, clumsily sitting down on a rock that’s mercifully covered by shade.

you kick him with your foot until he moves over, and you plop down next to him. “actually, it was your idea. i just agreed with it.”

“we’re not athletic people. why did we think we could hike a mountain? we’re so fucking stupid.”

“you’re the stupid one. i was roped into this against my will.”

“you liar.”

you hum, your head lolling to the side until it crashes into makki’s shoulder. he shifts, letting you rest there, and you narrowly fight the desire to rotate your head and let your lips graze his collarbone. after a few minutes of quiet, you stand with the last of your strength. dust puffs up around your feet as you step back onto the path and out of the cooling comfort of shade.

you throw your hands up in the air, defiantly getting a facefull of bright, hot sunshine.

“fuck you!” you yell at the gigantic ball of fire.

somewhere in the distance, a bird squawks.

makki laughs, and then you laugh, and then you both are laughing so hard you can barely breathe.

“you’re,” he manages to choke out between giggles, “you’re losing your mind.”

you crouch down by him until you’re face-to-face, noses almost touching. for a split-second, you get the weird urge to reach out and—

his head jerks to the side and you almost fall over, barely catching yourself by balancing your hands on his knees. 

“do you hear that?” he asks.

you look up at him and his eyes widen as he realizes the position you’re in, looking up at him from between his legs at that angle like… like you’re gonna…

“hear what?”

he blinks, before realizing that he’s been staring at you, kneeling on the ground, for far too long. “um,” he glances away quickly, shoving away the less-than-appropriate thoughts that threaten to come to the forefront of his brain. “water. i hear water.”

you fall silent, straining to hear what he does. your ears practically perk up at the almost-silent rush of water.

your eyes snap back to makki, hope evident on your features. “oh my god, you’re right.”

in an adrenaline-fueled rush, the two of you scramble to your feet and follow the noise. makki ducks under a couple of low-hanging branches, pushing away a few nagging ferns to eventually come across a small stream of water that trickles into…

“nofuckin’ way.”

your breath catches in your throat as you look at what must be what heaven is like—a large, blue pool of water completely hidden by a large rock structure. it looks to be completely natural, not a single sign of human life around, and the entire atmosphere is breathtaking. the gentle spray from a small waterfall on the far side of the rock immediately cools you down until you’re not even sure what heat was bothering you anymore.

“this is beautiful,” you hum, dropping your bag off one shoulder and then the other, letting it hit the rock you’re standing on with a dull thud. “either we’re really lost or really lucky.”

“i’m gonna go with lucky,” makki deadpans, a grin on his face. “this is insanelycool.”

you feel his breath along the shell of your ear, suddenly aware of how close he’s standing, and it sends a chill down your spine. your heart betrays you and pounds wildly against your chest, and you mentally kick yourself for feeling so… indescribably weird.

focusing your attention back on the little sliver of paradise before you, you get the urge to just jump in. without even thinking, you begin toeing off your shoes, ignoring the curious look makki gives you as you kick them off to the side.

“what’re you doing?”

you raise an eyebrow. “well, i don’t want to get my clothes all wet, duh.” you tap the side of his head with an amused smile. “use your brain, makki.”

he gapes at you as you wiggle off your shorts before yanking off your shirt, dumping it all into a pile on your bag. the heat feels a lot more bearable without a layer of clothing, but you still feel the layer of perspiration along your body, making it glow in the sunlight. you glance at makki and he briskly turns away, the mud caked on the soles of his shoes suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, pretending that you aren’t mere inches from him in nothing but your underwear.

he feels a familiar heat pooling in his stomach as you walk past him, hips swaying and ass—

why am i looking at her ass? he nearly smacks himself in the face, glad that he can blame the flush on his face from overexertion. what the fuck is going on?

“aren’t you coming?”

“y-yeah, just a sec.”

he wrangles off his shorts, discarding the fabric before starting to do the same with his shirt. you give him an impatient look, the sharpness of your gaze making his brain go numb because wow, her eyes look really pretty in the light. you must not like the look he gives you in return, because you whip your head back, trying to convince yourself that you’re not enjoying the tension between you. the very same tension that you’re capitalizing on right now.

as you wait for him, a bead of sweat curves around your neck and flows between your shoulder blades, and his mouth goes dry, hands freezing around the neckline of his shirt. 

he watches hungrily as it disappears behind the clasp of your bra and reappears on your back, trailing lower and lower until it dips under the waistband of your panties.

he’s struck with the inexplicable urge to stick his tongue out, taste the saltiness on your skin, and then drag it back upwards to retrace the droplet’s steps—

“what are you waiting for?” you’re still looking forward, at the water, refusing to peek behind you because you know he’s shirtless and that you probably can’t handle that right now without acting like a complete idiot.

“nothing!” he squeaks, silently cursing himself for being so obvious. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair to dispel his nerves. “nothing.”

he walks forward a bit too fast and a bit too distracted, and like the very suave guy he is, trips over a rock, sending him stumbling forward towards the lagoon. he reaches out for something to balance himself, grabbing onto your arm. your eyes widen and he gives you that evil smile of his; you’re barely able to get out a panicked “makki, don’t you fucking dare—” before he falls in and yanks you along with him. 

the water, the perfect temperature—not too warm and not too cool—envelops you whole. it feels great, refreshing after spending so much time in the sun, and you kick your legs to get back above water.

“you whore!” you smack makki’s chest underwater, your movements slowed and sluggish. “i hate you!”

makki’s face breaks the waterline and he laughs loud and hard, practically wheezing. his pink hair is soaked and plastered to his face, almost covering his eyes. he smoothes it back with the palm of his hand, some droplets splashing onto your face, and smiles big.

“sorry 'bout that,” he says, you know, like a liar.

“youasshole, you’re so fucking clumsy,” you chastise, unable to prevent yourself from smiling back. “i thought you would’ve grown out of that by now.”

“yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively. “'no running by the pool’ and whatnot.”

you snort, remembering how much trouble he’d get into every summer at the community pool for sprinting past the safety signs nailed to the fence and cannonballing into the water—it became a tradition for you and him to go there straight from school on the last day. half the time, he’d evade capture, and the other half… he wasn’t so lucky. you’d stick your tongue out and tease him when he’d get his pool pass revoked for breaking the rules.

“you terrorized those poor lifeguards,” you joke, clutching at your stomach as laughs wrack your body. “i’m surprised they let you come back each year.”

“oh, i know exactly why they let me,” he replies, wagging his finger. “it’s ‘cause i was the only person keeping their shitty snack shack afloat.”

“oh my god, you’re right.” the memories start to come back to you—a much younger makki with the entirety of his measly allowance money coming to buy snacks. “you always bought those strawberry candies, but you hated them. i never understood why you spent so much money on them.”

he scratches the back of his head, dropping his eyes to look at the ripples in the water. “well, you liked them, so…”

oh.“oh.”so he’d buy them for…“huh.”

you lapse into awkward silence, the white noise of the waterfall and chirping of birds filling the void. you glance towards the waterfall, the constant stream of water looking a lot more interesting than the placidity around you. you’re itching to get over there, and inspiration strikes—something pulled straight from your childhood experiences with makki.

“yo,” you wave your hand in the water and splash him just the slightest, startling him out of his thoughts. “race ya to the waterfall.”

you submerge yourself in the water, kicking your legs and immediately getting a headstart.

“wha—hey!”

makki knows that there’s no point in trying to beat you—ever since you were kids, you’d always been the faster swimmer—but he easily gives into his competitive edge, swimming after you. 

when he feels the smoothness of rock against his palm, he pokes his head up out of the water, immediately hit with a barrage of white foam and the rumbling noise of water crashing. he nearly flails underwater again and you laugh, peacefully perched on a ledge of stone, safely tucked behind the waterfall and away from the spray.

“oh,now you’re gonna get it,” he grumbles, slicing through the water in record-time to get to you. 

you squeal in delight, trying to get away from him, but there’s nowhere for you to go. he grabs your ankle, pulling you back into the water, and you latch onto his shoulders, choking out laughs, as you’re dragged back into the coolness. you tightly shut your eyes, convinced that he’s going to pull some shitty move like dunking your head underwater, but after a beat, you realize that, other than being forcibly removed from your very comfortable resting spot, you’re completely unharmed.

prying your eyes open, you come face-to-face with makki, his lips slightly parted and a pink flush spreading below his freckles. you trace them with your eyes as if you haven’t done it millions of times, over and over, until they were branded in your brain, a constant in your life like the constellations in the night sky. 

you know how much he hated the cluster of them that stayed on the bridge of his nose, even during winter, after some classmate of yours made fun of them back when you were nine. he’d tried to cover them up with some of his mom’s foundation the next day, and you laughed when you saw how horribly the makeup blended. after admitting that you thought they were fun to count when you were bored in class, he seemed to stop hating them.

you remember class picnics in the spring, and how they’d spread across his cheeks as the day went on, as morning turned to afternoon. you’d always lecture him on the importance of sunscreen—the same lecture your mom would give you before thrusting a small bottle of spf fifty into your chubby hands—before squirting some of it into your palm and caking it under his eyes. he’d stare at you, shocked, and you’d joke about how he didn’t even know how to rub it into his skin and then proceed to do it yourself. he was always glad that you didn’t rub it in too much, because the pale residue left behind on his cheeks always hid the way he’d blush brightly at the feeling of your hands on him.

you suddenly become aware of how close you’ve gotten to each other—your hands are clasped along his taut biceps and his hands are holding your waist, fingertips sticking to the soaked fabric of your underwear. you can feel the heat radiating off of his bare chest and warming yours, and you desperately look for a distraction from the way water glistens along his lean frame and abs. 

makki feels the same, doing his best to ignore the way your sports bra clings to your wet skin, the peaks of your nipples poking out just the slightest. you look… gorgeous, he has to admit, what, with the way that droplets of water condense on your plump lips and slide down from your drenched strands of hair to your shoulders and stomach before returning to the pool. you’re ethereal, the light reflecting off the water glimmering against your flesh making you have some kind of angelic shimmer. 

the water’s only up to his waist, but he feels like he’s drowning.

you start to move away, but his grip on your hips is insistent. you tilt your head up inquisitively, swallowing as your eyes trail up his broad shoulders and sharp jawline to focus on his eyes. they’re unreadable, swimming with ambiguity that you have an innate desire to sift through.

your gaze drops to his lips—he’s gnawing on the bottom one and you have the split-second urge to soothe the bitten flesh with your tongue—but you catch yourself and bring them back to his eyes. he seems to notice, tensing up as his fingers dig into your flesh.

the tension is palpable. your blood is pumping rapidly in your veins because you have no idea what he’s thinking. what are you thinking? are you thinking the same thing?

he opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but a sudden voice startles you.

“hey! you kids can’t be in here!”

you jerk away from each other, craning your necks to see a man in a hat and a shirt with a logo that you recognize is from the resort peers down at you from the top of a ledge.

“this is protected land! we haven’t put up a sign yet since it’s so far off the main path, so it’s not your fault for not knowing.”

“like i said, more lost than lucky,” you mutter. he gives you an annoyed look and you smile angelically in response.

“sorry about that!” he calls back.

you wade back to shore, a million thoughts ringing through your head because you swear that something was going to happen. you definitely wanted something to happen.

but what is that something? you can’t help but wonder. am i ready for that something?

you quickly put on your shorts and t-shirt, cringing at the way they stick to your wet skin. the discomfort doesn’t last for long though, because the heat quickly dries you up and puts you back in the situation you were stuck in in the first place—sweaty and exhausted.

when you finally find the path again, with the help of the man in the hat, makki pipes up again.

“you should call me takahiro more often,” he states simply. 

it’s a weird thing to say, a bit out of the blue, but from your experience makki’s a weird person anyway, so it’s not all that unexpected. “okay,” you reply, drawing the word out. “why?”

he shrugs. “dunno. you’d always say it when we were kids, so it makes me feel less old when you do.” it’s not the answer you want—not that there’s an answer that you want, of course, because that would be… strange—but it’s an answer nonetheless. his lips curl up as he thinks of something. “it pissed mattsun off, too. that was funny.”

you grimace, thinking back to that moment and mentally kicking yourself in the shin. “yeah, that was awkward.”

takahiro sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, wincing at your reaction. “too soon to joke about?”

you wave your hand. “nah, fuck him. i’m over it. as long as i don’t think about it for too long, i’m good.”

“ignorance is bliss and all that jazz?”

you nod. “anything that keeps me occupied works in my favor.”

he bares his teeth in a way that looks more evil than amiable. “good thing you’re with me, distraction extraordinaire, right?”

your heart beats in anticipation as you stop in your tracks, wary of whatever twisted plan he’s got buzzing around in his head. “takahiro,” you say in warning.

he pays no mind to you, tapping his chin while unzipping his bag, stray droplets of water darkening the fabric. “do you remember that time at my seventh birthday party when you ambushed me with a water gun?”

your eyes widen immediately because of course you remember—it was hilarious. it was late january, way too early in the year to be playing with water, and as he’d been walking into his house, you’d nailed him with a jet of ice-cold water. it had soaked his shirt and frozen it, and you were forced to hold a hairdryer to his body for an hour until it thawed, giggling the entire time. he’d always sworn revenge but you thought that he’d forgotten by now.

you thought wrong.

“let’s not be irrational here…” you muster, a smile involuntarily creeping its way onto your face as he grabs a couple brightly-colored balloons from his bag, fitting one in each hand. “i just got dried off.”

“well, i’ve got two water balloons with your name on them,” he quips, jiggling them in his palms. “i also have an entire speech prepared, so take a seat.”

you snort, settling down on a tree stump along the side of the path. you know there’s no getting out of this—you’re too tired to outrun him, and he’d probably catch up anyway—so you’ve already accepted your fate. “go for it.”

his smile grows wider. “i’m sure you know the saying ‘revenge is a dish best served cold.’” you nod, folding your hands under your chin and leaning forward like a schoolchild. he rolls his eyes before continuing. “well, i beg to differ. revenge,” he looks pointedly at the balloons, “is a dish best served wet.”

“wow,” you say, beginning to clap. “that was great. now let’s get this over with—”

“nope, i’m not done yet.” he ignores your half-frustrated, half-amused groan. things always have to be dramatic with him. “for the past sixteen or so years, i’ve marinated in the spices of my fury.”

“nice metaphor!” you heckle, chucking a pebble at his face. he narrowly dodges it.

he cocks his head. “thank you. as i was saying, i’ve marinated in the spices of my fury. every morning, i woke up angry thinking about what you did to me, and every night, i slept satisfied knowing that i was going to get you back one day.”

“you think about me constantly? just admit you’re in love with me then,” you tease. he seems at a loss of words for a second, hesitating slightly as if you’ve called him out on something, but the moment passes quickly.

“and that day,” he says definitively. “is today. today will go down in history as the day that hanamaki takahiro gets his revenge on the girl that froze his favorite dragon ball z shirt to his body on his birthday.”

“you got me.”

his eyes narrow and you hold your hands out defensively, as if that’ll do anything.

“prepare to meet your doom.”

instinctively, you shut your eyes and turn your head away, only to be met with two bounces of wet plastic—one on your hip and the other on your arm—and the plap! sounds of balloons hitting the ground. it takes a moment to realize that you’re completely dry, albeit a few drops in the shape of a circle from where the balloons’ condensation hit you.

“you’vegot to be kidding me.” at takahiro’s words, you blink your eyes open, only to see an unbroken pink balloon resting against the toe of your shoe.

before he can react, you bend down to grab it and the green one near your other foot, staring at them in awe before breaking out into shocked laughter.

“you—you bought water balloons that don’t break?”

“i didn’t know that they wouldn’t work!” he groans, running a hand down his face. “that’s so fucking embarrassing.”

“maybe you didn’t throw it hard enough,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to chuck the pink one at him. it bounces harmlessly off his chest and plops onto the ground, still not broken.

he stares at it with a blank expression, arms dropping in defeat. “i guess they’re all defective.”

a lightbulbs goes off in your head. silently, you approach him until you’re face-to-face, and then you take the remaining balloon, hold it over his head, and squeeze, hard.

within a few seconds, it succumbs to the pressure of your fingers, and with a comical pop! noise, water streams out of the plastic and drenches him.

you shove the carcass of the balloon into your pocket before stepping back to admire your handiwork. takahiro stands, completely unmoving, droplets of water dripping down from his bangs, which are now stuck to his face and covering his eyes, down his cheeks and clothes. he shivers as a trail of it slides down his back, eyes shooting up to meet yours in a strange mix of amusement and anger.

“guess they work,” you quip. “they just needed a little push.”

wordlessly, he hovers the pink balloon he’d gotten from you over your head, and clenches his fist tight around it, knuckles almost turning white. you’re barely able to duck your head before it comes crashing down around you, dousing you.

“you suck,” you giggle, wiping your eyes. “are we even now?”

“no, actually,” he replies quickly, reaching back into his bag with a big smile. “i still need to get you back for my birthday.” to your chagrin, he pulls out two more balloons.

“c’mon,” you laugh shakily. “truce?”

you get your reply when both balloons blow up in your face at once. 

“never.”

“shit,what happened to you?”

you glance up to see matsuwaka’s brows furrowed, his mouth agape at your… sorry state. you look down at your soaked clothes—you’re pretty sure that you left a trail of water droplets behind you as you made your way back to the resort—before letting out a shrewd laugh and gesturing to the man next to you.

“takahiro’s an asshole, that’s what happened.”

you relish in the way matsuwaka stiffens at the ease with which the name slides off your tongue. 

“gotcha,” he replies. “so business as usual, then?”

takahiro rests his arm on the top of your head and you roll your eyes. “hey! i’m not an asshole,” he drawls. “she’s just being dramatic.”

your mouth drops. “i’mdramatic?you’re the one that planned this for sixteen years.”

“that’s not dramatic! if anything, it’s dedicated.”

“dedicated to being dramatic,” you shoot back, a smile playing on your lips. 

“it’s better than being dedicated to believing in santa claus,” he snorts. “didn’t you believe in him until you were, what was it again? twelve?”

you shove his face away. “shut up! i grew out of that when i was, like, nine!”

“sure,” he says. “so i’ll just pretend that you didn’t start crying when i told you he was fake.”

“yeah, but that backfired on you,” you cackle. “your mom got so mad at you when i told her.”

his eyes widen as if he’s just realized something. “so you’re the reason why i didn’t get any presents that year?”

“oh my god,” you respond, covering your mouth. “you didn’t know?”

“see? you’re such a bully to me, you had this coming,” he insists, turning his head. “you agree with me, right mattsun?” 

you had almost forgotten that he was here this whole time—you were too distracted by the bubbly feeling in your chest that had come about from your banter with takahiro. huh, you think. weird.

“uh,” he stammers, clearly off-put from the dynamic between you. “yeah.”

his girlfriend bounds up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, giggling a little “hi issei.” he turns to her with a soft smile, pressing his lips to her forehead. she sees you and sends you a small wave, which you reciprocate amiably. you’re surprised to feel… fine. there’s no uncomfortable ache in your chest, no warm pinpricks of tears in your eyes, no crawling pain in your skin.

you feel fine, because you don’t need matsuwaka anymore, not when you have…

when you have him.

you gaze at takahiro, stars in your eyes, because you finally have a name for whatever you’ve been feeling, whatever you hope he’s been feeling. 

he tilts his head in confusion, cutely scrunching his nose up the way he always used to when you’d try to explain the science homework to him over bowls of baby carrots and chocolate pocky.

“why’re you looking at me like that?”

“like what?”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head, jostling strands of his hair that glow pink in the light of sunset. “you’re impossible.”

you announce that you’re going back to the room to change your clothes, and he waves dismissively, saying that he’ll be waiting for you in the lobby.

the moment you step into the elevator and the doors close, matsuwaka sits down next to him.

“i’m glad that she has you.”

takahiro’s face twitches. “it’s nothing. we’ve known each other for ages so—”

“—she always wanted someone… familiar, you know?” matsuwaka interrupts. “someone that she could relate to and share things with.” he chuckles dryly. “i was never good at that. now that i think about it, it makes a lot of sense for you guys to be together.”

wait what? “oh, we’re not—”

“—dating?” matsuwaka claps takahiro on the shoulder, suddenly turning serious. “dude, you don’t have to lie to me, we’re not kids anymore. and anyway, it’s obvious: you’re constantly looking at each other all mushy and making those inside jokes.”

“but—”

he doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “—i’d say something dumb like ‘take care of her’ but it’s obvious that you are. keep making her happy, yeah? you were always better at that than i was.”

before takahiro can say anything, kaiya calls for matsuwaka, and with another meaningful look, he leaves him sitting there.

“what the hell?” takahiro mutters to himself. “he thinks we’re dating? that’s wack.” another part of him whispers ‘but would that be so bad?’

it’s at that moment that the elevator doors open and you walk out, dressed in dry clothing. he smiles instinctively, and it’s also at that moment that he wishes he actually was yours.

“are you dating anyone?”

you have to slightly raise your voice to ensure that he hears you over the chattering of the ambiance. you’re in some popular restaurant in the area, seated across from each other in a booth that you were lucky enough to snag. the dim lights do nothing to fight the heat permeating the entire room, but you can’t find yourself to complain, at least, not when it means takahiro keeps the top three buttons of his shirt undone.

he gives you a strange look, and you can’t blame him. it’s kind of a silly question—you’d think that you’d have found out the answer to it before catching feelings, or continuing old feelings, or whatever you want to call it, but surprisingly, in all the time you’ve spent with each other, his love life never came up. so you can’t really blame yourself for not knowing, right? if he has someone then that’s fine. it’s fine. it’ll allbefine—

“no,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “why would i bring you on a vacation for two if i was dating someone?”

oh.“oh.”that’s a good point. “okay!” you say it a little too cheerily for someone that’s just curious, that has absolutely no romantic interest in the person you’re asking. 

“why?” he drawls, cockily leaning forward on the table towards you. “you interested?”

“yeah.” as soon as the word slips out, your eyes widen and you slap your hand over your mouth.

takahiro’s eyebrows shoot up and disappear behind the fringe of his bangs. “wh—are you serious?”

hand still clasped on your face, you nod slowly. “um, yeah.”

his eyes scan your face as he leans back into his seat. “are you joking?” his voice is leveled—guarded. does he think you’re lying?

“no!” he flinches at your volume, and you laugh sheepishly. “no, i’m serious. i like you. i’ve…” you suck in a breath. “i’ve liked you for a while now, i think. i just don’t think i knew.”

“so, just to reiterate, you’re notjoking?”

“no.”

“huh.”what the fuck, what the fuck, whatthefuck. she likes me? “okay, well, i like you too.”

oh my god. shut the fuck up. he likes me?“really?”

“yeah.”

“huh.”

you bite back a smile and shove your face into the menu, busying yourself with picking out a main dish, but really just trying your best not to squeal like a little girl. takahiro takes that as his cue to do the same, sending you wary looks from behind his menu.

“okay, sorry, i’m just making sure again, but you’re sure that you’re not joking right—”

you slam the menu flat onto the table before leaning forward and grabbing his face with your hands. before he can say anything, you’re letting your eyelids flutter shut and planting a kiss on his hips. when you pull away, falling back into your seat, he’s gazing unblinking at you, dumbstruck.

“do you believe me now?”

he nods dumbly. “y-yeah. i believe you.”

“okay. stop asking me stupid questions.”

he gulps, staring holes into the list of dinner specials on the page he has open. his face is burning—he’s positive that he’s glowing redder than he ever has in his entire life—and he can’t stop his knee from bouncing underneath the table and making the water in his glass ripple.

“i’m not hungry anymore,” he says quietly, refusing to make eye contact with you. is he reading this wrong? are you on the same page as him? is he reading a completely different book than you? why’s he using this book metaphor so much? oh man, is he nervous right now. are younervous?

“neither am i.”

he glances up at you and you share a look.okay, he decides. not reading this wrong then.

you grab his hand and shuffle out of the booth, keeping an eye out for your waiter, who probably wouldn’t be happy with you guys disappearing before they’ve even gotten your orders yet. yanking him through the maze of tables and chairs, you’re finally able to get outside, the sky greeting you with the reds and oranges of sunset.

takahiro laces his fingers with yours, and you’ve never been more thankful for choosing a restaurant that’s merely a few minutes away from your hotel. the tension is absolutely unbearable.

“bedroom, right?” just to make sure.

“i thought that was obvious,” he quips, smile a little shaky, eyes a little blown out.

“okay.”okay. cool. yeah. okay.

getting to the lobby is a flurry of dancing fingers that graze your hips and his arms, and lingering eyes that start off innocent but end up focusing on each others’ lips for a little too long. when you’re in the elevator, takahiro eagerly kisses you, lips that are softer than you expected pressing against yours, tongue dipping between them, just the slightest, to trail along yours. he starts to back away, catching his breath, but you tangle your hands into the front of his shirt and tug him closer. 

he loses his balance, barely catching himself by placing a hand on the wall behind you, your back completely flattened against the grid of buttons near the door. there’s the telltale sounds of something being clicked—multiple things being clicked—and takahiro’s mouth on your jaw pauses for just a second.

“did you just pick every floor?”

the elevator slows to a stop, and there’s a ring as the doors part to reveal a floor that is definitely not yours. you swivel, only to see six buttons glowing, the orange light taunting you.

“only five minus ours,” you whine. 

“ah, fuck.”

the elevator stops again, and a disgruntled-looking man walks in, his head craned to look at his phone.

“stairs?” takahiro steps towards the door.

“i’m tired—”

“—it’s now or never,” he says. the doors begin shutting and he sticks his foot between them. the other man in the elevator makes an irritated noise.

“hey kid, i got somewhere to be.”

“stairs?” he repeats, more urgently.

you grumble a little bit, pushing yourself off the wall. “fine.”

he sends you a bright white smile, and it makes you giddy enough to not snap at the small muttering of “kids these days” that comes from the corner of the elevator.

takahiro shifts his grip up your arm and picks up the pace, forcing you to jog behind him, laughing gently. he takes one, two, three wrong turns before finally leaning his body weight onto and opening the heavy, metal door to the stairwell.

“this looks like a murder site,” you say once you’ve shut the door behind you, taking note of the dull, flickering lights and awful beige color of the walls. 

“then you better not keep me waiting,” takahiro shoots back, before climbing up the stairs two at a time. 

you huff, walking behind him. by the time you make it to your room, you’re slightly breathless and it’s warm, so you whip your shirt off your body before flopping unceremoniously onto the bed. you close your eyes, letting the aching muscles in your calves rest.

you don’t realize that takahiro’s wriggled onto the other side of the bed, hands on other side of yourself holding himself up, until you hear the creaking of the mattress springs. you open your eyes to see him hovering over you, upside down, a gentle grin on his face.

“you look cute when you sleep.”

“is that an observation from just now or have you been watching me since last night?” he doesn’t respond for a second longer than would be normal, and you flip onto your stomach, bringing your face close to his until you’re nose-to-nose. “so you have!” 

“guilty as charged.”

you part your lips, ready to fire off another accusatory statement, but he takes the opportunity to kiss you instead. one of his hands cups your cheek and the other slides down to the naked skin of your stomach. you relax into his touch and shuffle forward on the bed, falling back onto your back. getting a little more daring, you let your palms skim the front of his shirt and then scrunch the fabric as you bring them back up across the planes of his chest. he shudders, warm breath blowing on the side of your face, and pulls back, quickly ridding himself of his shirt before crawling over you.

“we doing this?” he asks, breathing heavily.

you think he looks great at this angle, admiring the soft sprinkling of freckles that have only gotten more prominent with each minute he’s spent out in the sun. “you’re so stupid,” you murmur. “i want you so bad.”

he makes a dumb little expression that has you chuckling, and then you crane your neck to give him a peck.

“fuck me?” you ask in the cutest, most innocent voice you can manage.

a choked groan comes from somewhere in his throat, and he leans forward to muffle it in your collarbone. “god, you’re gonna killme.”

you sneakily move your hands and are unzipping his shorts before he can say anything. collecting his bearings, he sits up and shoves them down his legs before throwing them on the ground. crouching down until he’s eye-level with your pussy, he pushes your shorts off and rubs his fingers along the gusset of underwea

aaaahhhh! i’m sorry i’m so late in posting this - i really got carried away with this one and have decided to release it in four parts because it’s way too long (my first multichapter hq fic say whaaat) and i have axed the middle part completely to be rewritten. written for the @heatwave2021 fic exchange where i am honored to have been matched with the lovely @vivianvampyric i hope this provides a much needed cool off from the blistering summer (even though it’s technically fall now >.<)☀️⛱️

prompt:enemies to lovers // meet ugly // ‘you’re competitive. and so is he.’

summary:the msby 4 book a surf trip to a tropical destination, only to stumble upon a forbidden slice of paradise on their first day. despite being met with a lot of resistance, bokuto is determined to get you to share your secret spot.

[playlist ►]

f!reader x bokuto koutarou, slow burn, eventual smut (not till last chapter), strong language, heavy localism, reader’s friend almost murders hinata, lots of cringey surf lingo (glossary at the end), reader tan lines are briefly mentioned, (wc: 4.1k/???)

18+ only

[ch. 1 - here] [ch. 2] [ch. 3] [ch. 4]

“I d-don’t think ya were s-s-supposed to turn d-d-down this road,” Atsumu says, voice rattling as he clings to the frame of the open-sided Jeep Wrangler rental bouncing down a narrow dirt road surrounded by 9-foot-tall sawgrass. 

“This has gotta be a secret spot!” Bokuto says at the steering wheel with a focused grin. He’s quite enjoying the bumpy ride, soaking in the feeling of the unknown adventure that might be waiting at the end of this pothole-ridden path. He was the one who had convinced his teammates to form this trip, all of them taking up surfing as a hobby as something fun to keep them in shape and connected to the world outside of all the hours spent in gymnasiums. He had seen pictures of this place on social media and couldn’t get the blue waters and clean swell lines out of his head compared to the dark, cold, murky seas back home. 

“I should have driven,” Sakusa groans from the back seat, face relaying the oncoming nausea if the road doesn’t smooth out soon. Despite his rattled head, he has a protective arm in front of Hinata, who looks like he’s about to go flying out of his seat.

“Ah! This must be it!” Bokuto exclaims as he whips a turn that almost tips the vehicle and makes his own parking spot in the clearing of cars and trucks. He’s the first to unclick his seatbelt and hop out of the Jeep to run up to the clearing that opens up to the gorgeous tropical view of the beach just a few steps below the ledge. It’s not the northern point break as described by the B&B host, but rather a lost piece of paradise. 

“Yewww! Check it out! I’ve never seen so many babes in the water,” Atsumu hollers from behind him, standing up in the passenger seat to look over the vehicle frame. 

Bokuto narrows his eyes to focus on the line-up, and sure enough, it’s a lot of women. Mostly women. All women? Damn, they really hit the jackpot with his rash decision to turn down the hidden path. The waves look clean, a gorgeous reef break with split peaks crumbling neatly as the set heads for the shore. He can’t wait to be out there, catching all the waves and showing off for the bikini babes lounging on their boards. 

“Let’s go!” He cheers and runs back to the car to grab his board. He throws his sandals into the bed and untangles his leash, then dashes to leap off the small ledge, landing in the soft sand. He can faintly hear Sakusa berating him to put on sunscreen, but he figures he’ll be okay in his rash guard. He dashes towards the shoreline, sand hot like coals beneath his feet when he hears a voice yell behind him. 

“Hey! You can’t paddle out here!” 

He doesn’t even stop to turn around, simply waving a hand as he continues his beeline for the water. 

“Don’t worry, miss! I can handle it!” He calls back. How sweet of the locals to care about his well-being, but it’s merely a waist-to-chest high day, well within his comfort zone. 

Bokuto doesn’t stop his sprint as his toes hit the water, throwing himself on top of his board and gliding over the surface with the momentum. The water is warm yet refreshing as he starts to paddle, duck diving under the first plow of whitewash rolling towards him and popping up on the other side with a satisfied sigh. He shakes his hair and continues to work his way out, keeping an eye on the other surfers riding in. A young girl zooms past him, yelling something at him that he doesn’t quite catch. 

“Oi! That lil’ girl just called me a dick!” Atsumu laments, not too far behind him. 

Sure enough, another identical girl flies past them on the next wave, unmistakably calling out, “Dickheads!”

Bokuto frowns but nevertheless keeps crawling forward with his arms, only about two waves away from the outside. A woman on a longboard glides past him, making a point to look him in the eye with a cutting glare. He ignores the disdain but turns his head when he hears her berate his friends. 

“Move along, Jake!" 

"My name isn’t Jake!” Hinata’s voice comes growling over the sound of the crashing waves as he struggles to duck dive so he barely makes it over the lip without getting eaten. His frustration can be heard in the ungraceful slaps of his stroke as he speeds up to catch up with Bokuto and Atsumu. 

“Something tells me we’re not welcome here,” Sakusa says out of nowhere next to the rest of the guys despite being last to paddle out. His cheeks and nose are lathered in white zinc, and somehow his curly hair is completely dry. “The girl on shore was insistent that we can’t surf here.”

“Just some localism. If we stay respectful-” Bokuto starts, but gets cut off by Atsumu. 

“Holy- ASS ALERT!" 

It’s a loud and tactless exclamation that even you can hear as you come carving down the wave from the right. Your eyes squint at the unfamiliar faces that are a little slack-jawed at the sight of you, most likely foreign to seeing a girl sporting a thong bikini in the wild, let alone ass out in a power squat to throw a clean cutback to ruin the curly-haired man’s dry-hair paddle-out with the spray of your board’s tail. They keep staring, unaffected by the extra water to the face as you pop off the wave and paddle over to them. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The guys flinch at the harsh interrogation, certainly not what any of them were expecting you to say. You might be attractive, but that mouth of yours sure is abrasive. 

“Just here on vacation, trying to catch some waves and have fun,” Bokuto answers directly and the others nod in agreement. He understands that four new faces in a local spot could seem threatening, but he’s sure that it’s nothing that some good ol’ Koutarou-charm can’t fix.

“You should leave.”

There’s something chillingly calm about your voice that clashes with the warm turbulence of the ocean. No smile or frown, just an unrelenting stare on your fresh face as you grip the nose of your board to keep it from popping up between your legs. 

“Thank you for the concern miss, but we can handle ourselves,” he speaks on behalf of everyone, offering a big grin that he hopes will settle the tension. He’s read that some places can have aggressive locals who dictate who gets priority in the lineups, but he knows that if he just stays patient-

“Let me rephrase: Leave.”

“Do you own the ocean?” Sakusa asks bluntly.  

“Of course not, but you guys obviously aren’t from around here,” you say, narrowing your eyes just a bit. 

“So we’re not welcome?” Hinata questions innocently enough. 

You raise an amused brow at the redhead and turn your head around to call out to the group of about two dozen women behind you. “What do you say, ladies? Should we let Benny and the Jets here join our sesh?" 

Your question is met with a chorus of boos, 'fuck off’s, and middle fingers being waved in the air. It’s enough to make the quad of boys wince at the cold unwelcome. 

You turn your attention back to them and shrug. 

"There you have it. We’ll even let you ride yourselves back in,” you offer with an infuriating fake smile. 

Atsumu and Hinata seem content on leaving, ready to start paddling back in, but Sakusa sits still with his arms crossed, and Bokuto looks at you with a cheeky pout. 

“Seems like there are plenty of peaks. I don’t see why we can’t just get along and share,” the silver-haired man points out. What are you gonna do anyway? It’s not like you can force them to leave. It’s almost as if you’re beckoning for him to keep pushing it. 

“Hm, just wouldn’t want you to get eaten by a shark,“ you say, tilting your chin up and staring down at the guys.

“Sharks?”

Suddenly, Hinata lets out a frantic yelp right as his board goes shooting out the water and his body disappears beneath the surface. The other guys’ faces blanch, eyes darting to one another, ready to start sprint-paddling back to shore before they hear your laughter. 

“My friend trains by running underwater carrying boulders and can hold her breath for over 4 minutes. Can little red do the same?” You giggle fearlessly. Sure enough, a riderless longboard floats past you from behind and the boys realize that it’s no coincidence that their smallest friend had gotten dragged under. 

“Goddammit,” Omi grumbles, taking a deep breath before diving in after Hinata. 

You can see the water rippling from a scrabble below and it doesn’t take long for the redhead to pop up, gasping for air and desperately seeking the safety of his board. Omi comes up shortly after with a well-deserved glare, while your friend surfaces with an iniquitous laugh like a spiteful selkie. The guys all exchange nervous glances, quickly realizing that you aren’t playing around despite the lively look on your face. 

"I’m going back in. Hinata, come on,” Sakusa grumbles as he keeps his critical eyes on you until he paddles out of sight with a shaken Hinata at his heels. 

“I’d follow him if I were you,” you say with an ominous smile, feigning innocence to the fact that your friend had nearly drowned someone. 

“Hey, ladies,” Atsumu says warily with his hands up defensively. “Why can’t we just get along? Ya’know, the spirit of surfin’ n’ such?”

You blink at the two left, smile remaining as if you’re pleased with them staying despite the hassle of their presence. Bokuto studies the look on your face. It seems familiar to him, something he recognizes from all his years of staring down opponents on the other side of the net, and yet he can’t quite place what it is. It sparks his curiosity, luring him to stay put despite all the signs that tell him they should leave. 

“Well, in the spirit of surfing, how about you take this next wave? Show us girls what you got,” you offer, tilting your head to the oncoming set. The tide is just right for the first wave to crest right at your position. 

“Like right now?” The bleach-blond asks, quickly turning around to get himself in position, all too eager to bite your bait. 

You turn around and nod at some girls behind you. The others give way to two of the smallest in the group, the same two girls who were calling them “dickheads” earlier, and no older than middle schoolers who start paddling for take-off. You whip your head back at the guys. 

“Now! Don’t fall!” 

“Easy enough!” Atsumu yells as he takes off and you cringe at him kicking his feet for a boost.

Bokuto stays behind and observes, wondering what you have up your sleeve even though he’s pretty sure the girls can’t catch up to his friend. However, though Atsumu is further ahead on the wave, the two girls, each half his size, easily close in on him from behind with demon-like speed on their neon boards. 

“What the-? Little clone freaks what are y-!" 

It’s hard to see what’s going on from behind the wave but soon enough, Atsumu’s board flies ghost over the lip while he goes full starfish bail in the air before landing in the churning white water. You laugh at the sight and turn to the last remaining man just a few feet away from you, who seems less amused at his friends’ fate. His salt and pepper hair lays slicked back against his head from the water, golden eyes studying you critically with his lips pulled into a pout. It’s a shame he’s being so stubborn, otherwise, he’s kind of cute. 

“Those are my nieces. One of them will be world champion one day,” you brag with a haughty grin, watching as the one on the hot pink board airs out when the wave closes. “We’re not just some girls fucking around out here looking cute on our boards.” 

You’re certainly not wrong from what he’s witnessed, though he can’t deny you don’t look far off from posters that he’s seen in windows of surf shops or even a torn magazine page adorning the lockers of some of his teammates. 

"So what are you doing?”

“Not to say that we don’t have fun,” you say, “but every one of us is working hard to be better than the best.”

“Oh? And which one of you is the best?”

Your smile is almost predatory. He sees the stickers on the underside of your nose, brands he recognizes, and wonders if they’re not just for decoration. There’s a look in your eye that makes his blood simmer excitedly, and he suddenly realizes what it is. He’s well-versed in cocky attitudes, but rarely from girls, and even more rare from a girl facing a man. Undoubtedly though, he can hear and see the words seeping out of you in an aura: Underestimate me. I dare you.  

“Scared of a little girl, vacation warrior?”

“No!” He blurts out, face feeling hot from the tropical sun reflecting off the water, or so he thinks. He feels a rush inside him, intrigued to see what you can bring to the table, almost wanting you to completely show him up, and yet also wanting to crush you down. 

“Then follow me!” You bark, turning yourself to paddle for the oncoming wave. 

You hear him grunt, making you smirk in satisfaction when you realize you have him hooked into your game. It’s an easy win for you, no matter how athletic he may be - the way his rash guard clings to his large, defined muscles certainly hasn’t gone un-missed by your judging eyes. 

The wave drags you into its pull, and you let him stand up before you, noticing his goofy-footed stance and that he seems pretty comfortable riding backside. He lets out an excited “yewww!” at the rush. It makes you smile but doesn’t soften your spirit when you drop in behind him. Your eyes are trained on the spot you want to be, not breaking in concentration as you glide past him without so much as a pump. 

Bokuto feels good on the wave- something about the push of the water and harmonizing with the mysterious laws of nature rather than fighting against them. There’s a certain satisfaction in finding just the right balance to enjoy the ride, not unlike being thrown the perfect toss to spike the ball exactly where you want. But he sees you out of the corner of his eye as you begin to sweep around him. It almost seems to happen in slow motion. He’s reminded of the times he’s felt so sure about a point only for a hand or a foot to come seemingly out of nowhere, and the mix of awe and anger. 

Still, he can’t not turn his attention. He remembers the lessons and pointers he’s gotten since he started this hobby. He knows he should only look in the direction he’s going, but as you pull in front of him, he sees your hand slide down your lower back until your thumb hooks under the top seam of your bottoms. And though there’s hardly any fabric to begin with, he’s still held captive when you flash him your tan lines made only more tempting by the water dripping down your body. 

A dirty play by you, but he knows it’s silly to get worked up and distracted by such a thing. He knows he’s losing his balance. He knows he’s about to fall and get washed away by the wave, but not without watching you execute a perfect bottom turn that cuts off his trajectory and blends into a sharp snap, and sprays the water like a full-body halo around you. It’s as if he wasn’t even on the wave to begin with. 

His shoulder hits the water, eyes never leaving your carving figure as he gets swallowed by the wave. He feels strange as he gets dunked beneath the surface, left ankle getting tugged by his leash as his board buoys from above. The sunlight breaks through the clear water, and though his vision is a little blurred, he finds it quite peaceful despite the embarrassing defeat. However, his back bumps against the reef and he quickly kicks his way back up. 

By the time he makes it back to shore, you’re already regrouped with the other girls, letting them have their turns. He bites the inside of his cheek, feeling salty in more ways than one. He knows he shouldn’t want to go back out, but he finds himself fighting the urge to paddle right back to you. He wants to keep surfing and prove to you that he can keep up, and prove something else to you that he can’t quite put his finger on. But he sees the rest of the guys standing around on the beach next to a girl set up with some camera equipment. 

“Ha! You got beat by that girl!” Atsumu jabs as Bokuto walks up to them. 

“Says the guy who got pushed around by two pre-teens,” Sakusa mutters. 

“I tried to warn you all that you can’t surf here,” the girl with the camera sighs from her spot on the sheet she has set up to keep off the sand.  

“And what gives you all the right?“ Bokuto asks, squinting an eye. 

"Nothing. Absolutely nobody. That’s why we’re here,” she replies, though it doesn’t give them much of an answer. “You all should leave. There’s a spot north of here that should be a little more welcoming." 

The guys all look at each other and agree, even if there is a little part in each of them that wants to put their foot down. But their vacation time is limited, and they’d like to catch some waves rather than fight for them. Defeated, for now, they turn back to the shoddy parking area. 

"Aw man, somebody waxed our ride!” Hinata exclaims as he climbs over the ledge and makes his way to the jeep. Sure enough, the matte streaks of Sticky Bumps surf wax stand out against the shiny yellow car paint. There isn’t much canvas, but there are crude penises and the phrase “locals only” etched anywhere the wax would stick. 

So much for paradise. 

-

The day wasn’t a total loss. Fortunately, they had some luck at the spot they had originally set out to check out, and after exhausting themselves there, they headed back to the B&B with the sun setting behind them. It’s a bright blue two-story building surrounded by lush, colorful plants with lots of open outdoor space. The owner is a Japanese ex-pat, who Bokuto had found through a travel agent. He had introduced himself as “Musty Boot” to the guys, all of whom didn’t want to question if that’s his actual name or not. 

“Did you guys score?” The older man greets them when he sees the guys unloading their boards and using the hose to wash the sand off their feet. 

“Yeah! We ended up at the beach with the rocky point break like you told us. It was a lot of fun,“ Bokuto says with a big grin that stretches his cheeks which are already a little bit pink from sunburn. All of the boys look a little bit tanner just after one day in the sun, even Sakusa who was diligent with the SPF. 

"You guys sure are energetic. I thought for sure you’d be jet-lagged,” the host says as he turns to open the door. “There’s a lot of other good spots in the area. I’ll show you some more on the map when you get inside." 

A large dog with shaggy grey and white fur forces his way out as soon as the door gives enough space for him to wiggle through, greeting each of the guys with a wet nose to the thigh and collecting pats on the head. 

"Oi! Get back in Kuzi,” Musty Boot orders and the canine goes waddling back through the door, though not without checking behind to make sure the visitors are following him. 

“We went the way you said but found an even better spot on our way there. There were some nasty girls who gave us a hard time though. They tried to drown Hinata,” Bokuto tells him as he steps inside. It’s only slightly cooler, the Aircon working hard to relieve the space of the tropical heat, but at least the tile feels nice on their tender soles. 

"Is that all? I should have warned you about that. That’s ‘The Siren’s Den,’ run up with y/n and her gang of wahines. Local girls-only club - they’re notorious around here. They’re like a pod of killer whales." 

Bokuto laughs at the comparison for the accuracy, and wonders if the older man is referring to you. Even though it wasn’t established, something told him that you were the leader. 

“Okay, but who do they think they are claimin’ a spot like that for themselves? Pretty selfish n’ rude if ya ask me,” Atsumu grunts while petting the dog to counter the bitter feelings stewing in his head. 

"Trust me, you all got off lucky. See this scar?” Their host points out the indent above his right eyebrow. “I knew better, but I thought I’d paddle out at their spot when El Niño hit a couple years ago. One of those girls pulled my leash as I went to drop in on a double-overhead day and I went over the falls and straight into the reef." 

"Someone should get arrested for that!” Hinata yells, and the other guys nod in agreement. 

Musty Boot laughs so hard his eyes nearly bug out of his head. “There’s no cops in surfing. Especially here. Everything is settled man to man. Or woman to man.”

“And so how would we settle with them?” Bokuto muses. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since they left. 

The host laughs again. “By realizing that’s a battle you’re never gonna win unless you wanna get pelted with sea urchins." 

They grimace at the thought. Based on what they experienced, none of them doubted that you and your gang were crazy enough to do such a thing. 

"Why don’t all the guys get together and storm their spot? They can’t scare everyone away,” Sakusa says as he picks at the few stubborn pieces of sand stuck to his arm. The other guys turn to Musty Boot, curious if he thinks it’s a valid strategy. 

“Things are different here. It’s still a little bit old-world where men think women shouldn’t be doing anything but cooking meals and raising children. Back in the day, men wouldn’t even let the women in the line-up. They’d harass them, snake any wave a girl tried to catch, basically drove them away until they had no choice but to find their own secret spot. It’s not really so much that they’re keeping it for themselves, it’s more that they’re contained there.“

"But it’s such a good spot! Wouldn’t the men try n’ take it for themselves?" 

"The girls would just start to trickle into the other spots instead - and if I’m being honest, the guys can’t handle it,” the older man tells them. 

“What do you mean?” Hinata asks.

“Well, most guys don’t want to be shown up by a bunch of girls.”

“You can say that again,” Atsumu grunts. 

“Are the men really that bad?” Bokuto questions. With two older sisters, he’s never really had an ego when it comes to women - not to say he doesn’t believe men are capable of being so fragile, but he doesn’t quite understand how a woman being good at something would be a bad thing. Sure he felt frustrated earlier, but it had little to do with your gender. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Musty Boot answers with a sigh. “But the girls are also that good." 

The words stick with Bokuto as he lays down on his bunk, though not for long for the full day in the sun and the jet lag are on his heels. It feels like he’s still floating on his board, bobbing along to the roll of the waves, though it’s soothing as the image of your backside creeps into his mind. He even imagines you turning your head to look at him, a wicked smile painting your lips as sleep overtakes him. 

Glossary - U.S.-based lingo

• Benny - non-local
• Frontside - riding chest facing the face of the wave (typically easier)
• Backside - riding back facing the face of the wave (can be trickier)
• Dry Hair Paddle Out - making it to the outside without having to duck dive. Indicates good wave sense and observation of the ocean.
• Jake/Barney/Kook - an inexperienced surfer, doesn’t know surf etiquette, cringe, poser
• Goofy - right foot forward on the board
• Inside - where the waves have already broken, closer to shore, usually a little weaker and where beginner surfers stick to
• Left/Right - the direction of the wave when facing the beach in the water
• Local - someone who frequents a certain spot
• Regular - left foot forward on the board
• Localism - an unspoken law of the surf line-up. Locals get priority on waves and determine if/when non-locals get their turn. Can cause a lot of fights if taken seriously and not respected.
• Outside - where the waves first crest, further away from the beach
• Vacation Warrior - someone who only surfs when they’re on vacation
• Wahine - Maori for “young woman” though also used to refer to girls who surf
• Yew - a common exclamation used amongst surfers

Anatomy of a wave: