#beach!au

san seems to feel your gaze on him, turning away from his current focus to wave excitedly at you. you can see the silhouette of a sand structure, a bit lopsided and already crumbling, when san moves aside. a few shells shine against the sun on top of the smaller piles of sand and, once your eyes adjust, you can see a stick with some seaweed wrapped around the end sticking straight out of the largest formation. san seems extremely proud of what you imagine he'd refer to as a "sandcastle", gesturing confidently toward it.

you're not sure how to react, san awkwardly too far for you to verbally respond, but he doesn't seem to care as he immediately starts to make his way toward you, eagerly stomping through the soft sand.

"how was your nap?" he asks with a smile, collapsing unceremoniously onto the towel next to you. he leans over to give you a casual peck on your cheek and you try to ignore the flutter in the pit of your stomach. luckily the heat of the day already has your skin warm to the touch and so your blush goes unnoticed by san.

"restful," you sigh with content, "how long was i asleep?" you reach for your phone to get a look at the time.

"long enough for me to build you the perfect castle," san replies with a giggle. "move in ready," he adds with a wide smile at you, dimples on full display.

"not sure a castle is in my budget," you entertain him with a grin of your own, moving to place your phone back into your bag and rummaging around for the bottle of sunscreen, sure both of you could use a reapplication.

"well only 5 oyster shells a month for a 12 bedroom 14 bath seems like a steal to me," he reasons with a shrug, running his hand through his hair to move some of the loose strands that had been stuck to his forehead. his gaze doesn't brake away from you even as you focus your attention fulling on looking into your beach bag, a habit of his you've begun to notice even more recently as you both spend increasing time together.

"why wouldn't you live there too? sure is a lot of bedrooms for just one person," you comment without much thought at the nature of the remark. 

san doesn't immediately respond and his silence causes you to bring your attention back to the man sat next to you. he seems to be trying to avoid your own gaze, looking back toward the main land where food trucks and sweet treat stands line the pavement. he seems suddenly more thoughtful, smile gone and eyes narrowed, and you notice the red glow of his cheeks, trying to distinguish if it's simply from his time in the sun but you don't get a chance to comment on it as he's suddenly standing.

"i'm in the mood for something sweet, want anything?" he asks abruptly, still not meeting your eyes as he grabs the white button up and sunglasses he'd discarded on the sand when you'd first arrived.

you furrow a brow at his sudden eagerness to distance himself while he slips the items on.

"uh surprise me."

and with that he's leaving you to wonder what just happened.

thinking back to your conversation you almost groan audibly when you realize what you'd said. you and san were just casual, having met last summer while you were both staying the summer here at namhae. you'd hooked up a couple times back the , after friends’ parties and such, but this summer you'd seen your connection escalate. you weren't technically in a relationship, never going on official dates or truly talking about what you were, but you certainly acted cozy. part of that was simply in san's nature, always a fan of pda, but it mostly seemed to be a natural element of whatever this little fling was. however, your comment about living together seemed certainly to snap him out of the hazy bubble of this summer fever you'd wrapped yourselves in.

the sudden awareness of your slip up casts your own mind into a frenzy of thought. why had you said what you did? obviously, the two of you living together conjured thoughts of romance and long-term affection, and that was not at all what you had now. was it?

was this little thing you shared made to last?

thinking back on the summer you'd already shared, every other minute spent together, sharing passionate kisses in front of the orange sunset and exploring the coastal town hand in hand. who could fault you for imagining a world in which you could continue on like this forever? how much longer could you two do this before you fell in love?

"the gelato truck was here," san says suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts as he holds a cone of the creamy dessert out to you. "sorry, it melted a bit on the way here," he apologizes sheepishly when you accept the dripping cone.

he no longer seems to be avoiding your gaze as he sits down with his own paper cup of italian ice, eyes sparkling as he watches you try your gelato.

"we need to reapply," you comment remembering you were still holding the bottle of sunscreen and shaking it gently.

"once we're done," san nods, "we're okay under the umbrella for right now."

a silence settles between you as you both eat, swapping bites every so often and just listening to the waves crash against the shore. you try not to slip into a thought spiral, worrying about whether you are starting to develop deeper, unrequited feelings for your summer fling. you try to analyze him subtly, but san seems as relaxed as ever, like nothing had happened. maybe its just the birthday effect.

"do you want to do something fancy for dinner? wooyoung said that place just down the road is good," you suggest. "you could invite the boys. i'm sure drinks would be on hongjoong."

he hums and for a moment you think it's in thought until you see hes adjusting his position, placing his empty paper cup into your little trash bag and laying on his side. "you don't like my cooking?" he asks teasingly, having told you earlier today that he wants to cook for you tonight.

"you shouldn't have to cook on your birthday," you reply with a roll of your eyes, crunching on the last of your cone.

san only shrugs, "i like cooking."

silence settles once more over you two and you tap gently against the sunscreen, thinking of how else you might get him to do something he might enjoy more than simply laying on the beach with you.

"why don't we go do something more exciting, ya know? something more celebratory," you suggest, placing the sunscreen back on the ground next to you.

san rolls onto his back, hands behind his head with his eyes closed, and releases a gentle sigh. "i like what we're doing now," he says before cracking one eye open to look at you. "can't the birthday boy pick what he wants to do on his own birthday?" he asks with a teasing smirk, one eye still closed.

you scoff lightly, turning away from him so that he won't see the blush dusting your cheeks. "i just don't want you wasting all your time with me," you explain and although you're talking about today specifically, it's strongly implied that you mean in general, throughout the summer. sure you've each spent time with other friends but even group hangouts would turn into you both in your own world in the corner.

"hey," san's voice is gentle but his touch is even gentler as he wraps his fingers around your wrist, causing you to look back toward him. "my time with you is never wasted," he says earnestly, eyes staring deeply into your own.

for a moment you hold your breath, ready for him to say something else, but if he had more words they never come, instead releasing your wrist and gesturing for you to lay down with him, an invitation you accept with little hesitance. you easily tuck into his side, allowing his arm to support your head like a pillow.

"can i at least get you a gift?" you ask under your breath, your urge to fight starting to fade.

you think that san doesn't hear you at first, continuing his slow even breaths beside you, but as you open your mouth to ask again he shifts to face you.

"stick with me," he says quickly.

you aren't sure if its a question or a request and so you furrow your brows at the man whose face is only inches from your own.

"go out with me," he says when he sees your confusion. "officially."

your lips part slightly in surprise and you quickly search his features to evaluate his honesty, but all you can see is the blush on his cheeks and the sparkle of hope in his eyes.

"when?" you ask, a little breathless as san leans even closer to your face, if that was even possible.

"i have tickets to the carnival tomorrow," he explains, "it can be our first date."

you can only nod, swallowing thickly, before san closes the distance and his lips are on yours.

you've kissed plenty of times before, but this one feels different, with the promise of more on his lips and the sticky gelato left over on yours mixing to form the sweetest feeling in your chest.

↼ ateez masterlist

note hopefully you enjoyed, wrote this kinda quick so excuse any mistakes

“Excuse me?”

He smiles wryly and gets a beer for the customer who just ordered beside her. “Don’t get your hopes up for Sarah. She’ll give you a good time for a night or two, but nothing more.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“I could see it on your face.”

She takes another sip of her booze and watches Sarah walk back to the shore, wetsuit clinging to every curve of her body and a lazy smile on her face as she approaches. She’s coming to the bar. Ava averts her gaze and pretends not to have been watching as the woman sets down her board leans against the bar, right next to her. The bartender hands her a pale yellow backpack rife with pins.

“Thanks, Mikey.” She rifles through the small pocket for an altoid tin, which turns out to hold a joint and a lighter. Alright then. It is California, she supposes, and everyone around here tends to smoke. Why would this woman be any different? As she takes a slow drag, Sarah looks at Ava with assessing, critical eyes. “And you are?”

“Ava.”

After a moment’s consideration, Sarah holds the joint out to her. In the past, Ava never would have accepted, but this is a new life in a new place, so she accepts. Even if it makes her cough. But at least that has Sarah laughing, and Ava feels a bit better when she passes it back and returns to her much more acceptable cocktail. There’s a part of her that wonders if she could convince Sarah to come home with her for even a single night’s company. Something to hold herself together in the loneliness that’s been killing her since she left Chicago.

The aroma, musky and heavy, of the smoke sticks around them until a breeze comes to coax some away, but all Ava can think about is the surety of Sarah’s voice as she flirts with another woman at the bar, and the nagging sense of jealousy beginning to overwhelm her. She wants to be wanted like that, pleaded for in the bow of Sarah’s soft pink lips. Whether or not she’ll be permitted, she craves that attention.

She makes it a good portion of the way through her cocktail before Sarah turns back toward her, puffing out smoke through her nose and smiling at her slightly. Hip jutting out, leaning against the bar. Watching slow with warm eyes, curls that blow a little in the wind. She seems like a model, someone in a swimsuit ad or the front cover of a magazine.

“You’re new around here,” she says. Her lips turn upward into a half-smile, predatory in a way when she leans in close. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’ve been here all week.”

Sarah hums, dropping what’s left of her joint in Ava’s drink. Ava should be mad, given how expensive drinks can be and how there was some left, but she’s too distracted by Sarah’s unwavering confidence. No one else would be able to do that. Just her. She’s still struck silent, like the quietest mouse as Sarah reaches into her backpack and produces a little notepad, filled with sketches that flick past too quickly for her to see, and rips out a paper to write a phone number on. 

“If you’re bored, I can show you around,” she offers, handing Ava the paper. “I know the best restaurants and bars. And other things.”

Ava tilts her head. “Other things?”

“I’d be happy to show you later tonight.”

Just like that, she’s walking away, carrying her backpack and her board, and there’s a part of Ava that feels so very much like a deer cuaght in the headlights, still trying to catch her brain up with everything that just happened and realizing that she has the chance to be that woman who Sarah wanted. She can lay in a bed and be close to another person despite how hard that’s been in her life, especially recently, and it will be peaceful yet fiery. Hot and cold. Perfect. Already she’s dreaming of the capabilities of those hands.

“I’d like to close my tab,” she finally gets out, and hands the bartender her card. 

For the majority of the afternoon, she lazes about in her little home. It’s not much. A kitchen, a small living room that houses her secondhand couch, a bedroom crammed with a mattress on the floor and a full dresser, the curtains shut but window perpetually stuck open that she doesn’t know how to fix. The bathroom has a broken sink, so she washes her hands in the shower. The toilet doesn’t work from time to time. But it’s what she can afford, so she deals with it. 

She doesn’t message Sarah until shortly before dinner time, not wanting to seem to desperate, risk blowing what chance she has for some sort of closeness here. She can’t deny herself this human contact she has craved since she arrived. Almost immediately, Sarah responds, telling her to meet her at the beachfront bar, and they’ll go from there. It’s a short enough walk not hail a cab, so Ava takes a moment to fluff her short hair, apply chapstick, and retie her shoelaces. It only takes a few minutes to get back there, but Sarah is already waiting, dressed in shorts and a baggy tee shirt with the sleeves cut off as she leans against a well polished, pale blue Vespa. 

“Thought I’d give you a ride to this little diner in town,” Sarah says, climbing onto the bike and balancing her feet on the ground once she lifts the kickstand. “Just hold onto me, you’ll be fine.”

Ava’s a bit nervous, especially without a helmet, but this is a sleepy, calm town, and she’s more concerned with the thought of holding onto Sarah while they go to get dinner together. So she joins her, wraps her arms around her waist and gets a whiff of fruity shampoo. This is a movie scene, a gift of imagination, and she’s alive, truly alive as the wind pushes her hair out of her face and she’s struck with the urge to kiss the tanned, exposed skin of Sarah’s neck. She very nearly does it. But first, they slow to a stop, and then she’s helped off the bike to get into the diner. It’s quaint. Small. The windows washing out bright light and the smell of comfort food approaching them, much more enticing than the faint hint of smoke still on Sarah’s hands and breath.

“They serve breakfast all day. I’d recommend something sweet.”

It feels like a double entendre, even if Ava can’t quite figure out why, but that doesn’t matter when Sarah’s hand is firm on her lower back, guiding her inside and holding the door for her. It’s respectful, but just provocative enough to make her blush. No one made her feel like this before she came here. It’s just Sarah, who has seemingly put her under a spell in the few hours she’s known her. Ava has always had a weak spot for beautiful women. 

The hostess greets Sarah warmly, bites her bottom lip until she notices Ava and her face falls. An ex? She doesn’t find out, because the hostess is stiffly polite as she leads them to comfortable booth in the back corner, hands Ava a menu, and backs away. Every word on the menu seems handwritten, although it must have been copied from an original, and she has the feeling that this diner is a home to many. And now, it is hers for the evening with Sarah watching her and reaching for the sugar packets, showing off the definition of her muscles when they flex.

“I like my tea sweeter than they make it,” she explains.

Ava just nods and scans over the menu before deciding on the french toast. It reminds her childhood and an unabashed happiness and innocence with every single sunday morning breakfast her father prepared for her. It was sweet and soft in those days, with sunlit kitchen counters. French toast is full of good memories, and she would love to add Sarah to the list, so much so that she stumbles over her words when she orders.

It makes Sarah laugh a little, as she gets pancakes for herself. They don’t talk much, but there’s an ease to the companionship when Sarah is smily and bright, telling Ava how beautiful she is and some of the town or diner’s history between silences filled with sipping water or tea. It’s peaceful, but tense with the promise of what they’ll do afterward. Ava’s almost unable to believe that it’s happening.

Until, of course, her food arrives and it’s every bit as sweet and dreamy as she remembers, fluffy and warm and perfect in her mouth. She can’t help a sound of satisfaction, pure bliuss, and her cheeks quickly flush with the look it earns her from Sarah. Smoldering with a base human want so much deeper than nearly anything else.

“Sorry,” she says.

Sarah shakes her head. “Don’t be.”

She’s still blushing as she continues to eat, all the way until Sarah orders them a sundae to share, complete with two cherries, whipped cream, and hot fudge to make it the sort of thing seen in movies and advertisements. And the first spoonful, held in Sarah’s steady hand, is for her. She closes her lips around the metal, letting the cream melt on her tongue, and makes eye contact when she leans away. It’s the boldest she’s been in a while. It works, however, and Sarah’s eyes lock on the movement before she takes a bite for herself and they put the two separate spoons to use. She’s practically bouncing in her seat with anticipation.

“After this,” Sarah says when the dishes are cleared, pulling cash out of her wallet for the bill, “come home with me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

It’s all Ava’s wanted since she’s laid eyes on her. She certainly can’t say no. Instead, she nods and follows Sarah back to the bike, clings to her on the ride to a much nicer house than Ava’s and finds herself pushed against the door the second they’re inside with soft lips on hers.

She grabs Sarah’s waist, digging her fingers into the soft, warm skin and slipping her hands underneath the tee shirt. Sarah is soft in lot of ways now, in the feel of her body against Ava’s and the palm currently hitching under Ava’s thigh to position her as she pleases. Both legs around Sarah’s waist, suddenly, and lost in the most heated kisses as she’s carried to a bed and set down, covered with a lithe body that’s all the more stunning as Sarah undresses herself.

Ava quickly catches up, kicking off her shorts and panties in hopes of getting touched sooner. Cared for sooner. She needs this. And Sarah clearly knows what she’s doing when she starts kissing down Ava’s stomach, pushes two slim fingers between her folds and makes circles around her clit. It’s not much. But it’s everything. She lets her head fall back on the pillows and grabs at the sheets.

It's almost quiet now, as close to quiet as it ever gets with Hobi, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to complain, out of habit far more than conviction. "Yah, you said we were going for a short walk, not a hike to Jeju Island."  

Completely unaffected, Hoseok slows his quick stride, glancing back and beaming at Yoongi in a way that makes the alcohol in his arteries fizz. "Jeju Island?" he asks playfully. "Did hyung want to go for a swim tonight?" He takes a few deliberate steps towards the water, and it actually takes Yoongi that long to realize what a horrible idea it is.  

Hurriedly he digs in his heels, not really sure if his friend has drank enough to actually consider it. The alarm doesn't do anything to help him fight off the wide smile pulling up his lips, though. "Idiot," Yoongi laughs, and can't stop fondness from saturating his voice. "Maybe some other time."  

"Mmkay," Hobi accedes easily, and they start walking again, leaving Yoongi's accusation unanswered. They're still holding hands but there's no one around – of course not, it's like one in the morning – and it's not really uncomfortable so he can't bring himself to protest. He kind of wants to ask what the hell they're doing, but it's also nice to just walk next to Hoseok, hands swinging loosely between each other, so he decides not to. Hobi's excited chatter washes over him in much the same way as the waves push against the sand, smoothing all the sharp edges, and he realizes faintly that he's still smiling. If anyone had asked, he'd blame it on the intoxication.

He'd have a totally straight face while he lied, too.

A steep dune rises hazily from the darkness, and the other male doesn't slow down as they reach it. "Almost there!" Hoseok declares, and now they have to break apart. Caught up in the rich thrum of energy he always feels when around his friend, Yoongi doesn't even think to question why they're climbing up the shifting tower of sand; he just follows the admittedly more agile male as they begin to straggle upwards, sometimes having to use their hands for balance.  

At one point in time, after at least a minute or so of climbing, when he's almost lost track of Hoseok in his intense concentration, the treacherous footing proves too much and abruptly Yoongi finds himself floundering, flailing, sand trickling through his fingers as he scrabbles for a purchase that just won't come. There's a moment of horrible, breath tearing vertigo (possibly alcohol induced) during which he's absolutely certain he's about to teeter off the mound, but then Hoseok is there. His hands dart from above and to the side, one to grab at the collar of Yoongi's shirt, the other latching onto his wrist, and suddenly they're collapsing against each other, against the sand – but they're not falling. They're stable, with spinning heads set atop remarkably steady bodies. And Hobi is laughing, almost howling, barely able to get his words out. "Watch your step!"  

And damned if Yoongi isn't laughing too, chuckling until he can't breathe – laughing, that is, until sand gets in his mouth and he has to stop or risk choking to death. Still grinning broadly at each other, giggling in snorting bursts, they haul each other up the rest of the way with only a modicum of struggling before collapsing in a heap at the top of the dune. Gulping in air, his sides aching, breathless more from amusement than from the climb, Yoongi lies flat on his back, staring up at a sky that's blanketed with stars almost outshone by the bright moon. Beside him Hoseok is giggling, also looking upwards, and it's a while before either of them can find their breath.  

Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, Hobi momentarily winces as the brilliant light blinds both of them, leaving white-hot streaks of colour across their vision. After a moment of dramatic cringing, he peers at the screen again, lets out a relieved sigh. "Ah, we're just in time. I thought we might have to wait, or maybe that we'd miss it."

"'It'?" Yoongi echoes, his voice coming slow and dreamy. The alcohol is definitely starting to push him down the slope to drowsiness, or maybe this is just too strange of an experience to absorb, but when Hobi replies he feels no surprise, just a sudden flicker of interest.

"It, yeah, yeah. The fireworks!"  

"Fireworks?" Another repetition, but this time the small man wriggles until he's on his side, facing Hoseok with a raised brow. "What fireworks?"

Eyes fixed upwards, unaware of the close observation he's suddenly under, Hobi nods energetically. "There's a monthly festival that happens at that closed off part of the beach – we saw it yesterday when we were touring around – and it has fireworks. I heard some people talking about it before. And I asked some of the locals and they said this was a good place to watch them and not a lot of people came because everyone's seen 'em all before, right? And Jin-hyung said you've never seen them before and -"

His words are obliterated by a sudden whistling shriek that blooms into a boom so deep it's more of a concussion that reverberates his bones than an actual noise, and beside him Hobi jerks in automatic fear. Above their heads a flower unfolds, or blossoms, or just whirls into being, a red and green flower so bright Yoongi finds himself once again struggling to breathe against the pressure on his chest. Hobi's right – he's never seen fireworks before. And suddenly, painfully, wonderfully, he knows exactly what he's been missing, and a world with fireworks is a world without room for his anxiety or skepticism. As another cannon-shot heralds the arrival of more fantastical colours, these in a sparkling, winding ribbon of blue and purple, Yoongi blindly reaches out, fingers fumbling along the warmth of Hobi's body until he finds the other's hand.

Hobi clings to him like he's an anchor and the fireworks are a black hole, threatening to pull them both in, and every time another boom echoes across the dusky sky Yoongi can feel a slight flinch wrack the other man's figure. Part of him wants to look over, to say something reassuring, but his eyes are fixed in unblinking amazement at the light show dancing over them, like their own personal parade, and he can't rip his gaze away. So Yoongi settles with giving Hobi's hand a gentle squeeze every time a new shower of sparks bleeds vivid colour into the night, and he shifts so that they're closer, sharing the warmth that the cold sand beneath them is trying to leech away, their thin clothes doing little to protect them.

He wishes – as fervently as he's wished for anything – that the fireworks will last forever, but like most of his wishes, that one lingers just long enough to leave the tart taste of hope in his mouth before it dies, trickling away on the tail end of the last of the fireworks. As the soft murmur of the ocean once again overtakes them, filling up the ringing silence left by the thunderous explosions, Yoongi stirs, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He feels – abruptly, jarringly – sober, and when he turns to look at Hoseok, he sees a similar sobriety (but not solemnity) reflected in the other's long face.  

"...Wow," Hobi eventually exhales with a grin, seemingly no worse for wear, and it occurs to Yoongi that he has seen fireworks before, in the broad stretch of lips, the flash of teeth, the delighted eyes that hold an energy at least equal to the lights that danced above their head only seconds ago.

"Wow," Yoongi agrees, but for once that's not enough, not nearly enough, and he crafts the words so quickly he might as well be rapping them. "Seriously. That was no joke. Ah, Hobi-ah, thank you. Thank you, that was one of the coolest things I've ever seen."

With a low chuckle Hoseok sits up, pulling Yoongi with him. "Just don't tell Jin-hyung that, okay? He might be jealous." Snickering, the wiry man makes to stand, but Yoongi stops him with something incredibly close to fireworks exploding in his chest.  

As Hobi frowns curiously, Yoongi tilts his head in a brief, uncertain twitch, his lips pressed together. Voice rasping hesitantly from his throat, eventually he says, "...Let's just stay for a bit. I bet everyone at the party hasn't even missed us yet." And he means it, he does, especially the first part, because Yoongi has always been very aware of the special moments in his life, and he wants this one to draw out for as long as possible.  

When his friend considers, shrugs and settles back onto the sand, Yoongi lets himself breathe a sigh of relief. He angles his head back to admire the sky, leaning lightly against Hobi's solid form, and he couldn't have said how long they stayed that way, trading words like useless currency and enjoying each other's presence as if they themselves were fireworks.