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thepoopdokyeomtouched · 11 days ago

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IT WAS ADORABLE. FUCK IT GOT ME TEARED UP BUT ALSO SO SOFT INSIDE LIKE HECKKKK

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

No Big Deal | L. Jh

Genre: fluff, dad au!

Summary: At the end of the day, both of you are a team. Even it sounds like a no big deal, it should be discussed.

Kim Mingyu had just become a father, and the entire group was ecstatic. Finally, the ever-enthusiastic, kid-loving Mingyu had a child of his own—one he could pour all his affection into instead of borrowing everyone else’s. The mood was lighthearted, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air as everyone gathered for a celebratory dinner.

Between bites of grilled meat and sips of soju, the topic naturally shifted to parenting.

"How do you even raise a kid properly when they’re growing up?" Mingyu mused, his eyes full of wonder.

The members who already had children began chiming in, eagerly sharing their own experiences and philosophies. Meanwhile, the single ones remained largely unbothered, focused on their food and drinks, merely listening in amusement.

Then, out of nowhere, Seungcheol turned to Jihoon.

"How about you, Jihoon? Do you scold your daughter?"

Jihoon, caught off guard, blinked in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to be pulled into the discussion so suddenly.

Jihoon was a father of two—a five-year-old son, Junho, and a three-year-old daughter, Jena. His children were widely adored, even by Mingyu, who often declared them to be the easiest kids to take care of. They were well-behaved, gentle, and polite—traits they no doubt inherited from both of their parents. It was hard not to love them.

Jeonghan, the ever-observant older member, leaned back with a knowing smirk. "There’s always a difference in how a father treats his son versus his daughter," he commented. "No matter how hard you try, you just can’t bring yourself to scold a daughter the same way."

Joshua and Jun nodded in agreement, chuckling.

Seungcheol, however, wasn’t convinced. "If I need to scold them, I scold them," he stated firmly.

Jeonghan chuckled. "That’s because you only have daughter. It’s different when you have both. Jihoon, what do you think?"

Jihoon let out a sigh, thinking back. Had he ever actually scolded Jena? He honestly couldn’t remember. Every time she looked up at him with those big, glistening eyes and her plump, rosy cheeks, he felt himself melt. Her giggles could soften even the hardest of hearts.

But Junho? Oh, he had plenty of memories of scolding Junho. When Junho made a mess, he scolded him. When Junho tripped over a cable, he scolded him. It wasn’t that he loved one child more than the other—it was just different.

"I think Jeonghan hyung has a point," Jihoon admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "I don’t think I’ve ever actually raised my voice at Jena… but with Junho, it happens naturally. I don’t even think about it, it just comes out."

The table erupted into laughter, knowing nods exchanged between the fathers.

"See?" Jeonghan grinned. "Daughters just have their dads wrapped around their fingers."

Jihoon sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah… it’s dangerous."

The conversation continued, filled with more stories, advice, and teasing remarks, but Jihoon couldn’t help but glance at his phone, where his lock screen displayed a photo of Junho and Jena together—smiling brightly, unaware of just how much power they had over their father’s heart.

"Are the kids asleep already?" Jihoon asked as he stepped inside, setting down his bag and spotting you curled up on the couch with a book in hand.

You turned your head toward him, a soft smile gracing your lips. "They've been asleep for a while now," you replied, glancing at the clock. "It's way past their bedtime."

Jihoon bit his lip, guilt creeping in as he realized how late it was. "Sorry, love. Seungcheol hyung wouldn’t let anyone leave early," he murmured, making his way to you. He plopped down beside you, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

You ran your fingers through his hair, letting his head rest against your shoulder. "It must've been fun, though. It's been a while since you guys had a gathering like that."

Jihoon hummed in agreement, his voice laced with exhaustion and amusement. "Mingyu was absolutely ecstatic about having a daughter. We even started listing potential names for her."

You chuckled, already knowing how ridiculous things could get when the group brainstormed anything. "Don't tell me someone suggested 'Bap.'"

Jihoon pulled away just enough to look at you, laughing as he nodded. "Oh, absolutely. We threw in every possible name that could go with Kim. It was chaotic."

Shaking your head in amusement, you leaned into him. "It sounds like kids were the main topic of the night."

"Pretty much," Jihoon admitted. "We ended up discussing a lot of parenting stuff—it was actually pretty informative. I can't believe how much the guys have changed now that they’re married." He let out a soft chuckle, still wrapping his mind around the fact that his once carefree bandmates were now giving fatherhood advice.

You smirked. "I bet Wonwoo, Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan struggled to keep up with that conversation."

Jihoon grinned, nodding. "Oh, they were completely in their own world. The world of being single."

You playfully smacked his arm. "Don't make fun of them," you scolded, though the amused glint in your eyes betrayed you.

Jihoon only smiled, his gaze softening as he cupped your face. Without another word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss, one that carried both affection and exhaustion.

When he pulled back, his voice was a gentle murmur. "Let's go to bed, love. You must be tired too."

With a small nod, you set your book aside, letting Jihoon pull you up with him. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you followed him to your shared room, ready to end the long day in the comfort of each other’s arms.

"Hey, there's no need to scold her. It's not a big deal," Jihoon muttered, his voice carrying a slight edge.

It was his day off, and the two of you were sitting on the couch, finally enjoying some downtime. That peace was short-lived when Jena toddled over, her big, pleading eyes locked onto Jihoon.

"Daddy, can I have a candy?" she asked, her tiny hands clutching his arm.

Jihoon glanced at the clock—almost lunchtime. "Not right now, sweetheart. You’ll spoil your appetite."

Jena's pout deepened, and she tugged on his sleeve. He hesitated, but eventually, he caved, slipping her a small piece of candy.

That should have been the end of it—except she came back for more.

This time, you were in the room.

"Jena," you said, your tone patient but firm. "If you eat candy now, you won’t enjoy your lunch."

Jena didn’t like your response. Her expression twisted, and within seconds, she burst into tears, her tiny frame shaking as she threw herself into a tantrum. You let her cry, waiting for her to calm down, but when the wailing only grew louder, you had enough.

"You won’t get anything you want by throwing a tantrum, Jena," you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the noise. "If you want something, ask politely. And if someone says no, it’s because they have a reason—a reason that’s good for you."

Jihoon shifted beside you. "She’s just a kid," he muttered, crossing his arms.

You turned to him fully, your patience thinning. "That’s exactly why she needs to learn now. If we keep giving in, she’s going to think crying is a way to get what she wants."

Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temples. "I just don’t see why it had to be such a big deal. It was one piece of candy."

Your jaw tightened. "It’s not about the candy, Jihoon. It’s about discipline. She needs to understand that rules exist for a reason."

He exhaled heavily, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I get that, but you don’t have to be so strict about it."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "And you don’t have to be so soft just because she’s cute. You’re teaching her that she can get her way if she looks at you the right way. Do you want that to become a habit?"

Jihoon didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flickering between you and Jena, who had finally calmed down and wandered off to join Junho, drawing sea creatures on the DIY board Mingyu had made.

After a long pause, he sighed. "I just don’t like seeing her cry."

Your expression softened slightly, but you held your ground. "Neither do I. But I'd rather deal with a few tears now than have her grow up thinking she can manipulate people to get her way."

Jihoon leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. He hated to admit it, but you had a point. Still, a part of him felt torn.

Days later, Jihoon was sitting in his studio, lost in the rhythm of a song he was working on. Jena sat comfortably on his lap, bouncing along to the beat with a wide grin, her tiny hands clapping excitedly. Jihoon couldn’t help but smile at her, the warmth of fatherhood settling deep in his chest.

A sudden knock at the door pulled him from the moment. He turned just in time to see you walk in, your brows furrowed in concern. Without hesitation, you scooped Jena up from his lap.

"Junho is crying outside. What happened?" Your voice was firm, laced with worry.

Jihoon let out a slow sigh, already knowing this conversation was inevitable. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together as he tried to explain.

"He was playing in here with Jena while I was working," Jihoon began, his tone calm but a little exasperated. "He tripped over one of my cables and shut my computer off."

You frowned. "And?"

"I just gave him a word or two. Nothing big."

Before you could respond, Jena reached for your face, her little hands patting your cheeks as she babbled, "Mama, don’t get mad at Daddy!"

You softened slightly, pressing a quick kiss to Jena’s forehead before setting her down and guiding her outside to play with her brother. Then, you turned back to Jihoon, crossing your arms.

"Was your file deleted?"

Jihoon sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "No, babe. But that’s not the point. This isn’t the first time it’s happened."

"He’s crying outside, Jihoon. I’ve never seen him cry that hard. You hurt his heart, babe."

Jihoon scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "It’s because you were there. He wasn’t crying because he was hurt—he was crying because he wanted you to talk to me. I know him, he’s my son."

Your eyes narrowed slightly. "How can you say that? You shouldn't invalidate his emotions like that. He's only five, Jihoon. He probably feels awful about what happened, and now he feels like he disappointed you."

Jihoon met your gaze, his own dark and steady. "I didn’t invalidate his emotions, and you know that. Just like you told me with Jena, kids need to learn. I gave him words, not punishment. He cried because he wanted your attention, not because I was too harsh on him. Why don’t you understand that?"

The room fell into a brief silence, the tension thick between you. Jihoon’s jaw was tight, and you could see the conflict in his expression—his natural instinct to be strict versus your softer approach when it came to Junho.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe he just wanted comfort."

Jihoon let out a short, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. "And maybe he needs to understand that actions have consequences. I didn't yell at him. I didn’t punish him. I just told him to be careful, but the moment he saw you, he turned on the waterworks."

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "He's a child, Jihoon. He makes mistakes, and he looks to us for guidance—not just discipline."

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "And you think I don't know that?"

Silence stretched between you, heavy and thick.

Finally, you sighed, your voice quieter. "Just talk to him, okay? He needs to know you’re not angry at him."

Jihoon hesitated before nodding, running a hand over his face. "Yeah… okay."

You watched him for a moment longer before stepping back. "I’ll be outside... with the kids."

Jihoon sat there, staring at the closed door. His chest felt tight, not just from the tension between the two of you, but from the realization that, despite everything, he was still figuring out how to be a good father, and a good husband.

Later that night, the weight of the day still lingered in the air between you and Jihoon. The house was quiet, the kids fast asleep in their rooms, but the unresolved tension from earlier sat heavy on your chest as you lay in bed beside him. Jihoon was turned to the side, his back facing you slightly, his breaths steady but not quite asleep.

You sighed softly, shifting closer to him, resting your chin against his shoulder. "Jihoon..."

He hummed in acknowledgment, but he didn’t turn around.

You hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. "I’m sorry for getting upset earlier."

Jihoon finally rolled onto his back, eyes flickering open as he looked at you. "You don’t have to apologize," he murmured.

"I do," you insisted, searching his expression. "I know you weren’t trying to be too harsh with Junho. And I know you love him more than anything."

Jihoon let out a soft sigh, rubbing his face. "I just don’t want to raise him to think he can get away with things by crying," he admitted. "I don’t want him to grow up feeling entitled."

You nodded, understanding his perspective. "I get that. And I don’t want that either." You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. "But I also don’t want him to feel like he has to suppress his emotions just to be ‘strong.’ He’s still a kid, Jihoon. He’s learning how to deal with feelings, and he looks up to you so much. The way you talk to him shapes the way he sees himself."

Jihoon was silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Then he turned his head toward you, his gaze softer now. "So, what do we do?"

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "We find a middle ground. You don’t have to stop disciplining him, but maybe sometimes, instead of scolding him right away, we explain things to him first. Let him understand why something was wrong before we correct him. He respects you a lot, Jihoon. If you talk to him, he’ll listen."

Jihoon sighed, but this time, it was less of frustration and more of understanding. "Yeah... You’re right." He turned fully to face you, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I’ll try to do better."

You smiled, warmth filling your chest. "Me too."

Jihoon let out a quiet chuckle, tugging you closer until your head rested against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, his body warm against yours. "Parenting is harder than I thought," he murmured, voice laced with exhaustion.

You laughed softly. "Tell me about it."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the tension from earlier melting away. Jihoon pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Love you," he whispered.

You closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you. "Love you too."

A few days later, after much discussion, you and Jihoon decided to seek advice from a child behaviorist. It wasn’t about proving who was right or wrong—it was about understanding Junho and Jena better, about making sure you were raising them in a way that nurtured them both emotionally and mentally.

The session was eye-opening. The specialist listened to both of your parenting styles and observed how you and Jihoon interacted with the kids. At the end of the analysis, they gave you their insight.

"If raising a child is like sailing a ship," the behaviorist said, looking at both of you, "then both parents need to steer in the same direction. If one pulls to the left and the other to the right, the ship won’t move forward—it will just struggle against itself."

That line hit home.

Later that evening, after putting the kids to bed, you and Jihoon sat together at the dining table, the analysis report in front of you. Neither of you spoke at first, both processing everything.

Jihoon exhaled, rubbing his temples. "So basically, we have different methods, and we don’t talk about it enough."

You nodded, tracing the rim of your glass with your finger. "I think we both just assume we’re doing what’s best without really checking in with each other first."

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "It makes sense, though. You’re more patient with the kids, and I—" he sighed, "—I tend to be strict, especially with Junho."

You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You’re not wrong for wanting to teach him responsibility. And I’m not wrong for wanting him to express himself. But if we don’t agree on how to balance that, we’ll just confuse him."

Jihoon looked down at your joined hands, then back up at you. "So, what do we do now?"

You smiled, squeezing his fingers. "We do what we should’ve done from the start. We talk. Before making a decision about the kids, we communicate. If one of us feels like the other is being too harsh or too lenient, we address it together—not in front of the kids, but privately. We back each other up so they don’t feel like they have to pick sides."

Jihoon nodded slowly, letting your words sink in. "And if we don’t agree?"

"Then we find a compromise," you said simply. "Just like we do with everything else in life."

Jihoon let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "I guess I didn’t realize how much teamwork parenting actually takes."

You smiled. "Neither did I."

He looked at you for a moment, then lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Alright, then. Let’s be better together."

You grinned. "Together."

That night, as you both lay in bed, Jihoon pulled you close, his hand resting protectively on your waist. "Thanks for pushing me to do this," he murmured.

"Thanks for meeting me halfway," you whispered back.

And just like that, the ship of your family was back on course, both of you steering it forward—together.

"Oh my god!" You gasped as you saw Jena clutching Junho's favorite toy—now in two broken pieces. Your heart sank as you rushed toward her, gently prying the shattered toy from her small hands. Junho, who had been sitting beside Jihoon watching his favorite TV show, turned his head at the sound of your voice.

"My robot!" Junho yelled, his face a mix of shock and devastation as he took in the sight of his broken toy.

Jena, still too young to understand the gravity of what she had done, simply turned away and began to walk off. But Junho was faster. He grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him.

"Jena, did you do this?" His voice wavered with disbelief.

Jihoon and you exchanged glances, concern flickering in your eyes. Jihoon exhaled through his nose, subtly signaling for you to stay calm.

Tears welled up in Jena’s eyes as she stood frozen by the wall, sniffling softly. Junho, however, was not done. Without another word, he stormed off toward her toy basket.

Your stomach twisted when you saw what he was after—Jena’s beloved bunny plushie. Before you could stop him, he grabbed a pair of scissors from the nearby desk and held the plushie up, placing the blade at its neck.

"No... No... No!" You rushed toward him, your heart pounding.

"Junho, stop! Revenge is not the answer!" You pleaded, blocking his way.

Jena let out a wail, running straight to you, desperately reaching for her bunny. Your thoughts raced. How had things escalated this quickly? Where had he learned this behavior?

Jihoon, now standing, swiftly stepped in. Without raising his voice, he took the plushie from Junho’s hands, his firm but calm presence instantly halting the situation.

Junho blinked up at his father, taken aback. To him, he had just wanted to scare his sister, to make her understand how it felt to lose something precious. But now, he was the one facing Jihoon’s disapproval.

Jihoon crouched to Jena’s level, his voice even. "Jena, you broke your brother’s toy. You need to say sorry."

You hesitated for a moment but then loosened your grip on her, letting her step forward. Yet, instead of apologizing, Jena stubbornly reached for her bunny in Jihoon’s grasp, her little hands stretching desperately toward it.

Jihoon sighed. "You made a mistake, Jena. If you don't take responsibility, I’ll have to throw this away."

Jena gasped, her little hands gripping the hem of your shirt as she stared at Jihoon in sheer horror. Tears welled up in her round eyes, her lower lip trembling as she realized what was happening.

"No, Daddy! No!" she cried, her voice breaking as she stomped her feet. "Not my bunny!"

You felt your chest tighten at the sight of her distress, but Jihoon remained firm, his expression unreadable as he held the plushie just out of reach.

"Then say sorry, Jena." His tone wasn’t angry, but it was resolute.

Jena sniffled, but instead of apologizing, she lunged forward, trying to climb Jihoon’s leg to reach her toy. He gently blocked her, and her frustration turned into wails.

Junho, who had been standing stiffly a few feet away, clenched his fists. His face was still tear-streaked, but now, guilt flickered in his eyes as he watched his sister fall apart. His earlier anger seemed to fade into something softer—uncertainty, maybe even regret.

Jihoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jena, you broke your brother’s toy. It was his favorite. If you don’t take responsibility, how is that fair?"

Jena only cried harder, shaking her head furiously. "I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!"

You crouched beside her, rubbing slow circles on her back. "Baby, I know you didn’t mean to, but when we make mistakes, we have to say sorry. That’s how we make things better."

Jena hiccuped between sobs, but she wasn’t budging.

Jihoon turned to Junho, handing him the plushie. "Junho, you tell me. Should I throw it away?"

Junho's eyes widened as he looked at the bunny in his hands. His fingers tightened around it for a second, but then he looked at his sister—her face blotchy from crying, her tiny body trembling.

Slowly, he shook his head. "No…" His voice was quiet, unsure. "Jena can't sleep without it."

Jihoon watched him carefully. "But she broke your toy. Doesn’t that mean it’s fair?"

Junho bit his lip. He glanced down at the bunny, then at Jena, then finally at you—like he was searching for the right answer. After a long moment, he let out a deep breath and walked over to his sister.

"Just be careful when you play with my toys, okay?" His voice was soft, hesitant, but sincere.

Jena sniffled, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Then, in a flash, she threw herself at him, wrapping her little arms around his waist.

"I’m sorry, oppa!" she cried. "I didn’t mean to break your robot!"

Junho hesitated before patting her head. "Okay, okay… just don’t do it again."

You and Jihoon exchanged glances, both of you exhaling at the same time. The tension in the room slowly dissolved, replaced by something lighter—relief, maybe even pride.

"Woah… How does she have your attitude? She nearly refused to say sorry, babe!" you said in disbelief, a teasing lilt in your voice as you eyed Jihoon knowingly.

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You smirked. "She has the pride of Lee Jihoon."

Jihoon let out a chuckle, shaking his head before pulling you into his arms. His warmth was comforting as you lay together on the bed, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

"You were so stressed back then," he murmured, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

You let out a deep sigh. "How could I not be? Junho was holding scissors, babe. He was actually about to cut her plushie. I can’t even begin to imagine what could’ve happened if things went wrong."

Jihoon tightened his hold around you, his voice low and reassuring. "Don’t worry, love. I always step in—now or later. I would never let anything happen to them."

His words should have eased you, and in a way, they did. But still, the thought lingered in your mind. You let out another sigh, resting your head against his chest. "But I was surprised too, honestly. Where did he even learn that kind of reaction? Has he been watching something…?"

Jihoon blinked before realization dawned on him. "Wait… we've been rewatching Jujutsu Kaisen together."

Your eyes widened as you pulled back to look at him. "Are you serious? And you let him?"

Jihoon let out an awkward laugh. "I mean, he loves it! And it’s not that bad—"

You shot him a look. "That show has fights, curses, and literal revenge plots. Junho just tried to traumatize his sister with a scissor! Connect the dots."

Jihoon winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, okay… maybe I’ll put a pause on anime night for a bit."

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. "Unbelievable."

Jihoon let out a soft chuckle, his fingers lazily trailing up and down your spine. "You stress too much, babe."

You scoffed, shifting slightly in his embrace. "Of course, I do! I’m literally trying to keep our kids from turning into little menaces."

He hummed in amusement, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing against your bare skin. "And I love that about you… but you should let yourself relax too."

You shivered at his touch, but you tried to keep your composure. "Easier said than done, babe."

Jihoon smirked, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Well, lucky for you, I know exactly how to help with that."

You narrowed your eyes at him, already recognizing the shift in his tone. "Babe—"

"Shhh," he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss on your jaw before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "Just trust me, love. Let me take care of you for a bit."

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise between the two of you as Jihoon’s fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your skin.

Maybe… just this once, you could let him distract you.

#az wooji recs

371 notes · View notes

winterrrnight · 1 year ago

Text

The tequila tingled on your tongue, sending heat to your cheeks that matched the subtle sunburn from your afternoon at the beach.

what a banging opening line omg

Dark blue eyes traced your figure, traced the way your hair blew in the ocean breeze, the way your dress hugged you in all the right places, and the carefree, relaxed smile that rested permanently on your perfect lips.

ugh I can't explain how captivating your writing is 🥹🥹

His hair was buzzed short and at this close distance you could see the freckles on his nose against his tan skin, could smell him, a scent that reminded you of clean laundry and sandalwood.

I will do anything for buzz cut Rafe i SWEAR-

"Only the pretty ones" he said, not missing a beat nor giving up an inch of space between you.

FUCKKKKKKKKSKDSKSNDNSJSHDBSBA IM DEAD

His eyes never left you, making you feel like melted honey, like the edges of your vision blurred to only focus on him.

the writing literally has me dead what the heckkkk

"Stop what?" you asked earnestly.

"Looking at me like that" he said.

never 😁😁

"I'm serious!" he said in a mock-threatening tone "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll have no choice but to kiss you.”

DO IT

"Well, fuck" he whispered against your lips, realizing just how far gone he already was for you.

SO CUTE OMG I LOVE LOVESICK RAFE SO MUCH 🥹🥹🥹💗💗

this was so so good like please please give me some of your writing talents 😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 something just as simple as the concept of 'love at first sight' was written in the most beautiful way possible and I am in loveeeeeee

island breeze + lights down low - rafe cameron

summary: rafe can't keep his eyes off of you, so he decides to do something about it

word count: 1.2k

a/n: so excited to break my little hiatus with this! just a little something something that has me dreaming of summer nights like this.

the vibe: fantasy - alina baraz + galimatias

The tequila tingled on your tongue, sending heat to your cheeks that matched the subtle sunburn from your afternoon at the beach. The salty air was thick against the breeze coming off the ocean, which was crashing just a few yards away from the club you and your friends were at for the night. The music floated between the palm trees, rocking them as the sun dove into the skyline, spraying the night sky with the last of its deep orange rays. String lights twinkled above you as your heeled feet carried you to the dancefloor where you joined your friends and lost yourself in the music.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend he wasn't captivated by you, trying to distract himself with another beer, with his friends, his eyes always seeming to find you again in the crowd. He swore he wasn't doing it on purpose; it's not like he'd never seen a beautiful girl before, he practically ran this island, he was well acquainted with every girl it had to offer - what made you different, he didn't know. Perhaps it was the fact that you seemed... genuine. You were enjoying yourself for yourself, you weren't there to show off, you didn't care who was watching, you were having fun. Something about your carefree confidence was incredibly sexy and before he really had time to think about it, Rafe was on his feet walking towards you.

You felt his presence before you saw him; your friends exchanging wide-eyed looks over your shoulder stirring you to turn around. Your eyes met his immediately, sapphire blue, twinkling in the twilight. A confident smirk rested on his lips and you couldn't help but to smile in return, biting your bottom lip in response. His hair was buzzed short and at this close distance you could see the freckles on his nose against his tan skin, could smell him, a scent that reminded you of clean laundry and sandalwood.

He leaned over to be heard against the loud music, cheek grazing yours.

"You're not from around here" he said, cutting through any pleasantries.

"You make a habit of knowing every girl on this island?" you replied smartly, pulling back just far enough to see the look in his eyes, your noses nearly brushing one another.

"Only the pretty ones" he said, not missing a beat nor giving up an inch of space between you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your cool confidence while your stomach did somersaults.

"Dance with me" he said.

It wasn’t a question, it was more of a demand, like he knew the word 'no' wouldn't be found anywhere in your repertoire. You blushed, your mind scrambling for a witty reply, but he didn't wait for one as he took in your flustered energy and reached for your hands, curling your fingers into his and pulling you forward as he walked backwards onto the dancefloor. It was a simple gesture, but in the low light, the sticky humidity, with the steady thump of the bass coursing through your veins, there was something absolutely sultry about the way his hands, his fingers, slipped around yours.

His eyes never left you, making you feel like melted honey, like the edges of your vision blurred to only focus on him. He pulled you deep into the crowd of bodies that enveloped you, separating you from reality and he pulled you into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

You could have died on the spot at the feeling of being pressed against him as his signature scent overwhelmed you. You could feel his warmth, feel his taught muscles underneath his loose-fitting linen shirt. You ran your hands over his shoulders and circled his neck, running your fingers through the short hair there, eliciting a sound from him that was something between a sigh and a groan.

You were flush to each other now and even though you were sure he could feel your heart hammering against his, you weren't tense; whether it was the tequila or the feeling of his fingers toying with the hem of your dress, you were the most relaxed you'd been all night. His body against your own was easy, unforced, rhythmic. You were like two missing puzzle pieces put back together, not a hint of awkward tension or apprehension. You rocked and swayed to the beat as songs blended one into the next, though neither of your noticed, completely in your own world.

Occasionally your eyes would find each other, your noses mere centimeters from touching and you'd meet his electric gaze with your own before looking away - it was getting harder and harder to deny how badly you wanted to kiss him.

The next time it happened he caught you off guard by pulling you insistently into him, cheek to cheek, his lips brushing your ear to ensure he could be heard over the DJ.

"You've got to stop that" he said, low, deep, with a serious laugh.

You pulled back to meet his gaze, giving him a confused look.

"Stop what?" you asked earnestly.

"Looking at me like that" he said.

You smiled, tilting your head to look flirtatiously at him.

"I'm serious!" he said in a mock-threatening tone "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll have no choice but to kiss you.”

Your breath caught in your lungs, but you didn't flinch, didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, you pulled yourself closer to him, teasing him, taunting him, your lips just out of his reach.

"I swear to God" he mumbled against you, your final warning "Once I kiss you, I'm not going to be able to stop."

"Who says I'd want you to?" you replied, and before the last word had left your lips one of his hands left your waist and came to trace your jaw, your cheek, the cool touch of the ring on his finger in the heat of the moment sending an involuntary chill through your body as he grasped your face.

His lips melded against yours and you sunk into him in full abandon, not caring who was watching as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your lips hot and wet against his, your tongues finding each other immediately. He nearly lifted you off the ground in an effort to pull you closer to him, every inch of you alight as he grasped you bruisingly tight to him. Your body was an electric guitar and he was a goddamn rock star.

The ocean could have flooded the beach, washing the world away and you two wouldn't have let go of each other. You lost track of time as your hands tugged desperately at his shirt, as your fingers coursed over his short hair, as his hands roamed your body. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours before you parted, only for a second, as he took you in, his pupils blown wide, breathing heavily. He took in your cheeks flushed with desire for him, your lips plump and swollen, your chest rising and falling, matching his own.

"Well, fuck" he whispered against your lips, realizing just how far gone he already was for you.

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