#jinyoung writings

[dyaz-stories]

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman || Park Chan-Young x f!Reader

summary: Yeong-Su breaks a window at the stadium, and Chan-Young takes the blame for it, resulting in severe consequences. Fortunately, you're here to pick up the pieces afterwards.

word count: 3.1k

warnings & tags: spoilers for season 2 of sweet home, violence, injuries, soldiers being assholes, coarse language, making out, the pronoun "she" is used in reference to the reader

A/N: couldn't find gifs for chan-young so I made this one, but I'm by no means a gif maker, so, yeah. Also, I don't know anything about baseball, so please pretend this makes sense if you know better. I'm not sure which team Chan-Young was supposed to be on, so I picked the Doosan Bears because Sweet Home takes place in Seoul. Finally, it's my first time writing for him, so I hope you'll enjoy my take on this character!

It’s another day at the stadium, which means it’s another day of boredom.

Oh, there are things to do around here, sure. If you don’t mind being ordered around by soldiers who stand behind you with a scowl on their face and remind you that the only reason you’re even there is because of their good will, you’ll find a job to do. Cleaning a corner of the stadium, probably, in hopes that someone will be able to live there — as if there were enough mattresses — or doing the inventory, again, while looking the other way when rations mysteriously go missing and everyone knows who’s doing the taking.

Thing is, you’ve never been one to grovel. In fact, back in the Before days, you were the one giving the orders. Youngest assistant coach for the Doosan bears, the Seoul baseball team, you were in line to become the youngest coach in the history of the country. And, yeah, you weren’t completely in charge, but you were trusted. You had responsibilities. People knew to take you seriously.

You’ve had ideas for how to run this place more efficiently, to avoid making the civilians feel like they’re second-rate citizens, but it’s been made clear to you that you weren’t welcome to make suggestions. So you haven’t bothered, lately, but you also won’t play in that stupid game, where people get to change the rules without telling you.

It means that you do a lot of aimless walking around in the stadium. Chief Ji implicitly lets you roam around, a testament to the fact that you knew each other well back in the days, when you used to bring her coffee before big games, but you mostly try to make yourself useful in the way soldiers haven’t bothered accounting for.

A lot of that means keeping an eye on kids that are left to themselves otherwise. Their parents are busy, and it’s not like there’s much to do for them, here, so you try to keep them entertained. Unfortunately, you’re no teacher, meaning that it’s a lot of physical activities, wherever you find enough place. Other days, people who are teachers take over for you. That is the case today, meaning you’d have the day ‘off’, if it weren’t for Yeong-Su not showing up for class.

You don’t personally think he should have to attend class. You know how mean the other kids can be to him, and though the teachers don’t do much in the name of keeping the peace, you don’t let that fly when you’re in charge. Which is probably why the kid never misses your classes, a small pride that you keep well tucked in your heart.

Still, the teachers insist that you make sure he’s okay, so you agree to go try and find him. He knows the stadium well, meaning it will be no easy task.

You end up finding him throwing a ball against a wall. It looks like he’s practicing his aim, you think when you notice that he’s drawn a square on it. You’re about to approach him, maybe give him a few pointers, when a particularly hard throw has the ball bouncing too high and it crashes through a window, finishing outside of the stadium.

You freeze. Monsters don’t approach the stadium much — it’s been months since there’s been a case of that happening.

But the mere thought of there being something open here still has your heart pounding with fear. It’s only a few seconds before you compose yourself, but that’s long enough for someone to come running. You rush towards Yeong-Su, prepared to fiercely defend him if you need to.

It’s Chan-Young, and you relax, even if your heart is now pounding for a whole other reason.

“What happened here?” he asks.

He may have been running with his whole equipment, but he shows no sign of being out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-Su mumbles. He’s hard to handle, especially these days, but he clearly respects Chan-Young a lot. “I didn’t mean to— I was just practicing and—"

Oh gosh, you realize, kid was practicing pitching, and it’s not lost on you that that’s the position Chan-Young mainly played as.

“…and now I’ve lost my ball,” Yeong-Su sniffs.

He’s trying to hold back tears, and it tears a little piece of your heart away. You know that Yeong-Su had found a ball autographed by Chan-Young, know that it’s one of his most prized possessions. It’s no surprise that Yeong-Su can’t stand the thought of losing anything more than what he already has.

Chan-Young glances at you, still standing a few steps behind Yeong-Su.

“He didn’t mean to,” you say. “I’ll help you fix the window.” Eun-Yu probably won’t mind giving you a hand, too.

Chan-Young nods, and you watch as he puts a knee to the floor, so he’s at eye-level with Yeong-Su. If he was any other soldier, you’d be more cautious, but you know him. Worked with him, when he was on your team, lost him when he enlisted, and now you’re in this strange limbo, where he doesn’t seem to know how to interact with you, even though there is this obvious familiarity between the two of you, every time you do speak.

“You need to be more careful,” he tells Yeong-Su, putting on his Serious voice. “If a monster heard that and came in, it could be very dangerous for everyone. And if you’re in front of the window when it happens, it would attack you first. So don’t let that happen again, okay?”

Then he gives Yeong-Su a small, comforting smile.

“If you want to practice again, come ask me next time, okay?” He glances up at you, and there’s such softness in his eyes when he does. “Or ask the coach. She knows her stuff.”

You’d never become coach, not officially, but his use of the word makes your heart swell.

“Okay,” Yeong-Su mumbles, staring down at his feet.

For a moment, it looks like everything will resolve itself just like that, and you’re already putting a hand on Yeong-Su’s shoulders to pull him away with you, when you hear the familiar stomping of military boots coming towards you.

Chan-Young’s expression changes immediately.

“Go,” he orders.

“But…”

He spins around to grab your shoulders, lowering himself to look straight into your eyes.

“Go,” he repeats. “Please.”

There’s such urgency in his voice that you can’t deny him, even if you’re not sure what is going on exactly. You grab Yeong-Su’s hand and pull him with you until you’re both behind a corner, just in time. You keep an eye on the scene, confused. The soldiers behave like assholes, you know that, but surely—

“What happened here?” the Sergeant bellows in Chan-Young’s face. “You’re lucky it was us, who were standing outside the window, and not something else! You better have an explanation, soldier.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chan-Young says, shoulders straight, from what you can see. “I was just practicing and—”

Before you can wonder why he’d lie, the punch catches him in the stomach, and he doubles over in pain. You catch yourself before you can gasp out loud, and instinctively cover Yeong-Su’s mouth, which is probably a smart move, because he starts thrashing to run towards Chan-Young. You don’t blame him, but you also absolutely cannot let him do that, not right now.

“Yeong-Su,” you whisper, mimicking Chan-Young’s attitude with you just a minute ago. “You need to go back to Ms. Cha. Okay?”

“But they’re…”

You wince, because they’re still berating Chan-Young, and one of them has just given him a hard kick to the ribs. All the more reason for you to intervene.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise, but I can’t do that if you’re here. So go back to her, and I’ll come see you when everything is okay again, alright?”

He sniffs, rubs his eyes to hide the tears, then turns around and runs. At least he’s got a good survival instinct, you think, even if it hurts to remember where it comes from. The second you’re sure he’s not coming back, it’s your turn to run, but towards the soldiers this time, with a confidence that you now worry is wholly unwarranted.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s enough?” you interject, maneuvering so you can get between them and Chan-Young.

There’s a scoff and they roll their eyes. One of them puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes, but you barely take a step back. You’re used to men trying to intimidate you.

“I thought we’d made it clear that your opinions weren’t welcome,” Seo-Jin snaps at you, getting too close to your face for comfort — like that would make you budge.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you beat up someone because he broke a fucking window, when if you’d gotten to work, that hole would be closed by now,” you reply on the same tone.

He opens his mouth to yell at you once more, a vein bulging on his forehead, when Chan-Young comes to stand in front of you. He’s barely just gotten on his feet, has one hand pressed against his rib cage, and still, he’s already coming to stop you from taking any risk. You want to scream at him and hug him all at the same time.

“Please, sir, she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Neither does he!

“That’s enough, Seo-Jin,” sergeant Kim finally intervenes, and the man immediately takes a step back. “Don’t let it happen again,” he tells Chan-Young. “And fix the hole,” he tells you, as an afterthought, before leaving and taking his team with him.

Your blood is boiling. He might try to be the voice of reason now, but you saw him doing nothing while his men got blood on their hands so he wouldn’t have to.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because next to you, Chan-Young has slowly let himself slide to the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask, panicked, while he grimaces and leans against the wall.

“I’m fine,” he says, an obvious lie. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You took responsibility for something you had nothing to do with, but I’m the one who shouldn’t have said anything?”

He sighs, shakes his head.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says. He looks at you with warm eyes, and you feel your breath catching in your throat.

There’s something about Chan-Young, there always has been. You always have to remind yourself that he’s nice to everyone, because he’s such a kind person. Even that didn’t stop you from falling for him — and it’s the second time that it happens, damn him.

“I’ll go get medical supplies,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here.”

“There’s no need to—”

“Please, do you want to die from an infection after surviving all these monsters? Stay. Here.”

You ignore any further protests as you rush to get the supplies.

It doesn’t take you long. Chief Ji provides you with what you need without questions, and apologizes for not being able to give you painkillers — they’re reserved for emergencies, she explains. You know the other supplies are, too, but you understand her reasoning, and just thank her with a quick nod and a promise to help out for the next few shifts outside the stadium, if she needs it.

When you come back, Chan-Young’s moved to sit on one of the boxes that are always laying around in here, and you grab another one to sit across from him.

“Open your jacket,” you say as you take the disinfectant.

“I— I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with an eyeroll, because the guys on the team weren’t exactly shy about taking their shirt off in front of you and he should remember that.

He clears his throat and glances away, and you notice his ears turning red.

“Um, right. Yeah. Just a second.”

Under the jacket, he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, and he lifts it up so you can see for yourself.

And it’s not looking good. The area is red and swollen already, and you worry it will be worse soon. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do about that, so you disinfect the scratches caused by the boots, and gesture for him to put it back down. You’d normally advise to put something cold on it, to calm the swelling, but that’s not really an option here, not when the little electricity you have is mostly used to keep the lights on.

“Try not to move around too much, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he says with a brief laugh. It’s a silly recommendation, and you both know it, but you still felt the need to say something.

“Now give me your hand, I’ll see what I can do.”

He does, and you carefully turn it to check the palm. You’re not sure if he hurt himself when he fell earlier, or if it’s just that there’s constantly manual work to be done and it’s hard not to injure your hand. Either way, you start cleaning it and disinfecting it as well.

“Do you think they would have been as hard on a kid?” you ask.

“No!” he protests immediately, maybe a tad too strongly. “They’re humans. I’m sure they wouldn’t have—” He interrupts himself, and you suspect that he knows they still could have hit him, a thought that makes your stomach turn. “But… Yeong-Su’s had a hard enough life as it is. People here are not… kind to him.”

“I’m not blaming you, especially after that,” you sigh, “I just— You do realize that it’s not your responsibility, right? I’d have helped the kid, and it could have ended better than…”

You gesture vaguely at him, and he closes his eyes for a second. He closes his fingers over yours where you’re holding his hand, rubs his thumb over your skin, which sends a wave of heat through your body. It only lasts a moment, though, before he catches himself and lets go.

“I’m— I was in charge, when his sister— I was supposed to be helping them. And I failed him.”

“What?” Ms. Cha told you that story, in hushed whispers, to explain why Yeong-Su was such a complicated child these days. It had been clear that there was nothing Chan-Young could have done. “You can’t blame yourself for someone turning into a monster and going on a rampage.”

“It happened on my watch,” he insists. “If I’d been more careful— If I hadn’t left the bus—”

You stop yourself to look at him straight in the eye. He’s close, but you don’t feel uncomfortable, not with him.

“That could have happened to anyone. You couldn’t have planned for it.” He exhales, long and slow.

“Thank you for saying that,” he says, but you can tell that your words haven’t sunk in. It breaks your heart, and yet you have no idea what more you can say. After all, you weren’t there. It makes sense that he wouldn’t believe you.

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in the line of danger to—” to what, anyway? Expiate his sins? What does he have to prove? Does he have a death wish or something? “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger when you don’t have to.”

“Better me than Yeong-Su,” he insists. “He’s just a kid, and he has his mom — well, Ms. Cha. And he has you.” You set the disinfectant back down, hands almost trembling as you realize where he’s going with this. “Better me than him,” he just concludes sadly.

“Park Chan-Young,” you say, “you don’t seriously think that, right?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he replies.

“He has a family here. I— don’t really have anyone—”

You’re not sure what goes through your head when you put your hand on his cheek and kiss him. If you had to rationalize it — which you’re not really in any position to do when it happens — you’d say that you just wanted to prove him how wrong he was. Truth is, though, that you also couldn’t bear the idea that you were letting him believe that when it was so entirely untrue.

His lips are warm against yours, and you think you feel him leaning into you, but you pull away too soon to know.

“There,” you say as you gather your things. “Now you know you do have someone, so don’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily, alright?”

Then you’re on your feet, hell-bent on fleeing the scene.

Of course, Chan-Young catches up with you in an instant. He grabs your wrist, and pulls you back against him. His eyes are wide as he searches yours.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

“Mean what?” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re… not sure where he is going with this.

“It wasn’t pity, right? You— I have you?”

The words almost send a shiver down your spine.

“Of course you do. I don’t exactly go around kissing people—”

Next thing you know, his hands are cupping your face and his mouth is on yours. He kisses you feverishly, like he desperately needs you to prove your words to him. You kiss back without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his neck. It isn’t long before your back hits the wall and you let out a brief groan.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling away from you to check on you. “Are you—”

You don’t let him finish, pulling him back down against you. His hands move down to your waist, one of them slipping under your t-shirt to feel your bare skin. He’s kissing you slower now, more sensual, and he abandons your mouth to kiss down your jaw, then your neck, before he comes back to your lips.

“I shouldn’t—” he mumbles against you. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Everyone’s doing it,” you reply, but it doesn’t surprise you when he tears himself away from you. He’s a sight to behold, flushed and out of breath — and is it odd that you enjoy seeing him panting from kissing you when you know he can run for hours without struggling? He’s always been one to stick to the rules closely. It says a lot that he broke one right now, but you won’t push him any further, not until he’s ready.

You take a step back towards him, take his hand in yours, and press your lips to his cheek for one last, soft kiss.

“Don’t forget now,” you say. “You have me. Don’t risk your life without thinking.”

He doesn’t kiss you again, but he leans in to press his forehead against yours, squeezing your hand in his.

“I have you,” he repeats, as if to convince himself. “I have you.”

I hope you liked it! as always, if you did, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought! feedback is really motivating and is what keep us authors going, so leaving a comment or sending an ask or anything really helps to keep me writing!

more writing for sweet home

[slowd1ving]

Hello !! Do I ask for a Jinyoung Park x husband reader ? please fluff and one shot

NOSTOS . ⁺ JINYOUNG PARK

nostos: defined by homecoming, as after a long journey Gone are the days of an empty stomach and the taste of blood on your tongue. Tonight, your biggest worry consists only of explaining the ball of fur (wedged damply under your raincoat) to your oh-so-beloved husband. anon this is my first married fic ever so I hope this is decent enough fr pairings: jinyoung park + husband reader warnings: none! (literally my only one with zero warnings) wc: 1.1k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Forgive me. Two words repeated themselves like pious mantras while you trudged up the stairs. The rubber of your soles colliding rhythmically against the linoleum of each step sounded comforting, unlike the frivolous allegro of your heartbeat. Residue rainwater left miserly puddles in your wake, and you felt guilty for the soft-spoken janitor who’d tend to the mud tracked into the flooring. 

Forgive me. For what? There were a million mellifluous syllables to describe the long wrongdoings of your life, but to list them all would blur them into flowery wine rather than the sour plums that they were. Lying to good people? Purging the murky cesspits of Gapryong’s Fist? Muddying up the downtown apartment complex your penthouse had been reduced to? 

Gone was the gilt that came with the blood. Your biggest sin this week was making a babe cry with your brief glance, and perhaps the parcel wedged beneath your warm body and raincoat. 

With one hand, you fumbled a rusty key into your lock—third floor, no lurkers, no telltale signs of intruders—and with the other, you clutched the bundle to your chest with the fervour of a starved man. It’s open—!

“Oh.” There he is. 

“‘Oh’ is right. You are late,” he seethed, eyes roaming from the very crown of your soaked head to the tips of your muddy boots. “And you’re getting mud everywhere.”

“Forgive me.” You sounded perfectly contrite, and somewhat abashed—and the sincerity in your tone caused Jinyoung Park to somewhat deflate. You— he— he could never stay mad at the face of his downcast husband after all, even if he knew full well the trembling furrow in your brows had been practised and machinated until Gapryong damn Kim himself twitched in irritation at your performances. 

Well. You weren’t the Infiltrator behind the Fist for no reason. 

“If you’re sorry, take a hot bath before you catch a cold. I’ll heat up the jjigae so you don’t get sick,” he grumbled, but anyone and everyone who knew him could see the soft-worn affection behind his grousing. He wasn’t your husband for no reason. 

There was no move from you. You remained holding your coat to your chest, ring glinting on your finger as you shifted. The back of his neck prickled. 

“Err, might be a bit of a problem, doc,” you said. Sheepishly. Like you always did before that mouth of yours caused your target to become tetchy as they threw something at you. 

His hand instinctively reached for your pink fluffy slipper on the shoe rack to whack your arm with. 

“You got injured? What did you do?” But rather than land on his target, he grasped your arm. There might’ve been a meow. Did it come from you? Maybe. He could never be too sure with you. 

With a loud, obnoxiously obvious gulp, you slid the material of your windbreaker aside. It rustled as though it was making excuses for you, since you wouldn’t argue your case. In fact, you would probably cheerfully agree with whatever he flung at you. 

“A… cat. A cat,” he stared dumbly. A soggy feline juvenile stared dumbly back. 

Huh?

“A… cat?” he repeated, still processing the mental shock. Its matted, damp grey fur and huge splotch on your shirt suggested you’d carried this wretched creature for many miles. And, knowing you, you probably had. Despair wrought his face pallid. 

“Sur… prise?” you echoed in a mimicry of his cadence, and he buried his forehead in his clammy palm. No, he prepared himself to say, already expecting the imminent question. No, his mouth formed. No. “And it’s a kitten, not a cat. Be nice.”

“Can we keep him?” you asked as though this wasn’t the cheap apartment you’d purchased in this district. No, he wanted to reproach, since you did somewhat acquiesce to his request on your whims. You stared, just as dumbly as him and that cat—an unfortunate trio if he ever saw one. “We can call him Jake.”

“We are not calling him the name of my nephew,” he shot back instantly, then immediately cursed at both himself and you for your masterful deceitfulness. Damn you. Damn his silly, obnoxious, beautiful husband drenched and pitiful from the rain, pleading with those eyes of his and causing him to unintentionally fold. You played him like a damn fiddle. 

And judging by the bright beam you wore, it seemed you knew that a bit too well. 

“Well, I’ll be off cleaning our dear nephew,” you zipped past him, still clutching that little furball with all the tenderness of a new father. He was so lost in the happy glow of your smile that it took him quite a few seconds to recall exactly just what you had said. 

“We are not naming it Jake!” he gritted out. 

“You can finally be the favourite uncle!” you sang, partially drowned out by the flow of hot water. 

Staggering, he propped his elbow up against the thin door leading to the bathroom—sharp glare poised right at it. 

When will I learn to refuse him?

 . ⁺ 　

“Who are you and what the hell did you do to my husband?” Shellshocked, you gaped at the scene before you; Jinyoung Park, the man you had sworn to cherish forevermore, had been replaced by someone who’d actually tolerated the kitten’s presence. Nay, the man had the very furball—that he glared at—sequestered away on his very lap while he looked over research files from his lab. And he was stroking behind its ears and under its chin nonetheless! 

What a conundrum. 

“Being the favourite uncle,” he replied with a half-smirk that couldn’t be hidden from your prying eyes. For once in your long life—riddled with more lies and deceits than you could count—you were stumped. 

You cooed to the kitten, attempted bribing it with treats, and even brandished the foxtail you’d found on your way back home. All for naught—the feline remained firmly wedged on his lap, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

“Well, your prophecy did work out. We’re both favourite uncles now,” he bragged, and a tear might’ve slipped from your eye as you watched the heartwarming scene. 

“Save a space for me on the couch after I shower,” you demanded, though it was not with any malice nor aggression—just a raw affection for this little bubble. 

“I’ll see.” However hard he denied it, he was still that wily man you’d fallen for; in the hazy evening lamplight, though, he was much softer round the edges.  

And perhaps you were too. 

For despite your lack of piety, you sincerely prayed this would be the domain of the future.

a/n: yes the cat is still called jake

[milfgyuu]

oh, how i’ve missed writing for jinyoung 🥹 [snippet from “The Wicked Prince” coming soon!]

[supremechancellorrex]

I watched the Devil Judge recently and I really enjoyed it, especially the complex and ensnaring relationship between Kang Yohan and Kim Gaon. I think the series really demonstrates the power of creativity and themes all complimented by the stellar acting of the main cast. It was enjoyable being seduced by the narrative and the modern and dystopic world it presented, with interesting questions posed about corruption, populism, fascism, mob justice and the characters that inhabit them that are very relevant to our own world.

One of my favourite things was how instinctive the fury and retribution was. At the press of a button, so easy and convenient, people didn't think about the ethics, they just wanted to make evildoers suffer, and have the power to do it, and the more desperate they became, the more unthinkingly vicious and sadistic, the easier they were to manipulate. The show is very good at making the audience feel a part of that as well, with all the lies and half-truths the characters tell, and I felt myself taken along for the ride, baying for blood with the mob at points even knowing it was a slippery slope for society.

After all, what Kang Yohan offers is very tempting, which is why I suppose he really is the Devil Judge.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jinyoung Park with Unhinged F!Reader

Medical genius, who? (given up on links, just check pinned masterlist for series)

"Hey~" you singsong, and Jinyoung Park whirls round.

How the...? His eyes flicker over your naked form.

Look all you want, you have no shame. It'll be the same body that destroys him either way. You couldn't wait.

You relocate your shoulder without even a flinch, all the time never taking your eyes off his. He seems to shrink and cower under you gaze. The reaction fills you with pleasure.

.

.

Is this fair? No. Is aging your fault? No. Could you help being younger? Also no. Do you have a time machine? For the last time, no.

You might have found Jinyoung Park a few years late, but you couldn't wait to sink your teeth into him.

It took a few tries to sniff him out, and when you got close, he was actually the one that approached you, injected a questionable concoction, and then you woke up strapped to a gurney.

My my, you are suitably impressed. It's been a while since you've been on the backfoot. This bodes well.

You lie completely naked, bound by straps while the mad doctor appears to be fiddling with something, his back to you. You squint: are those clippers and a razor?

Nevertheless. What was that again about silly men underestimating you? You grit your teeth as you silently and painfully dislocate your shoulder, allowing you to wriggle out of his contraption.

You take care not to make any noise as you make your way closer, stalking him like prey. By the time he realises you're awake and free, it's too late.

When he turns, your face is mere inches from his and contorted into a wicked grin.

If anyone asked, Jinyoung would deny that he's past his peak. But truth was, years away from being on the front line meant he wasn't what he used to be. However, even in his prime years, he knew he wouldn't have stood a chance.

Your bloodlust and savagery is unmatched. His years of fighting and experience and war faded to nothing.

He's not sure if he could ever forget your manical laughter as you pulverised and beat him into a pulp.

He might as well have been a baby facing against an insurmountable monster.

.

.

You very rarely doubt yourself, you don't tend to go for older men and made an exception this time. But looking down at the unconscious man: face aready swelling and becoming unrecognisable, lab coat torn and covered in blood-

...And those random needles sticking out of him? Well if you leave these strange equipment lying around, of course you would get stabbed at the first chance. What's the saying? All's fair in war and war - wait, that didn't sound right.

You wonder if you should have taken it a bit easier. Respect your elders and all that shit.

Eh, whatever. You suspect he was pitiful even in his youth. What is it with these men never living up to your expectations?

You look for your clothes and your trusty list of names but they're nowhere to be found. How annoying.

And you've fucking broken a nail too for your troubles.

No matter, your face lights up as your eyes land on the clippers. You make a grab for them, enjoying the way it buzzes in your hand.

You start whistling and reach for his hair.

[t-ess-e]

I just want to talk about how "The Devil Judge" is one of the best kdrama's ever, the plot? fire! The acting? Top notch! The characters are relatable. The writing is so beautiful I could actually cry, Strong female characters (i support their wrongs and their rights) And yes the sexual tension between the two male leads - its not defined but trust me, friends don't look at friends that way.

It's essentially the Korean version of Hannibal minus the Serial killers and cannibalism.

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Six

Hello everyone! Hope you had a great first half of the year. With everything happening so fast in my life, I now found a moment to breathe and get in my feelings again. So here's chapter six. Enjoy~ ~6k words, angst, love. How am I supposed to let you go when I don't wanna see you with anyone but me when nobody gets me like you? I only like myself when I'm with you.

Morning came seemingly too early for Samantha. The light orange spice of the sun was barging through the crack of the beige curtains of the bedroom, to find a resting place in the shared bed. That beautiful warmth gently awoke the woman who longed for a couple stolen minutes between the sheets. Try as she might, Samantha shifted from one side to the other in a hopeless attempt to charm the sleep from going away. She looked at Mark, whose brown hair was sparkling a dark autumn gold, and his eyelashes were fluttering in his sleep. Truly, a tender image to remember.

Samantha slid out of bed hoping she wouldn’t disturb Mark’s peace and stretched her body. With the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of an open notebook on a distant desk, surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper. She curiously approached it but didn’t dare touch it. Mark’s handwriting was scribbled in the intimacy of the pages, some words crossed out, others accompanied by small question marks. There was a title towering at the top of the page: everyone else fades. A love song.

“Hey.” Mark’s voice groggily echoed from the bed and Samantha turned her body to him. It felt like he had been watching her for a while. His voice was an octave lower than usual but still sounded like music to Samantha’s ears.

“How long have you been awake?” she smiled, approaching the bed to sit on the edge.

Mark extended an arm to her direction to meet with her hand. “I felt you squirm around.”

“I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and gave a small squeeze to his hand. Mark just shook his head in response to indicate he was not bothered at all.

“Did you find anything you like?” asked Mark.

Samantha’s eyes travelled to the open notebook, then back to Mark. “Who is that for?” she asked in a mellow voice, focused on his presence.

Mark intertwined his fingers with hers and chuckled. Samantha was not meant to find that piece of writing, and he’d forgotten entirely about it the previous night. “Haven’t decided yet.”

Samantha chuckled and leaned on her belly into bed, meeting Mark’s curious eyes. He extended his hand to tug a lone strand of hair behind her ear. How much did she want that song to be for her.

“What?” Mark whispered and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I bet my breath smells like shit.”

She laughed louder this time. Was she jealous, with Mark not admitting what she wanted to hear? “I bet mine smells like shit too, so that makes us even.”

“I guess I’ll forgive you this time,” Mark chuckled and let go of her face. He shifted his body to stretch on his side, one arm supporting his head, while the other draped loosely over Samantha’s lap. Marks’ fingers found a grip on Samantha’s naked inner thigh. “Morning sex?”

Samantha giggled and slipped from under his touch in an evident response. Mark laughed, too, albeit with his face dug in the plush of the mattress. “Yeah, go on and break my heart.”

In the absence of any vivid emotions, Samantha felt a string snap in the chords of her heart. Ever since the night before, the woman sensed Mark hid himself behind a wall and she could not see beyond. With every word spoken out of his mouth, the woman gathered it to be the truth.

“I did not mean that.”

Of course you did. “Of course not. I need to get ready for the hospital, I start at noon.”

Mark stretched his body to sit on the edge of the bed, both palms of his hand pushing his torso upright. “Have no idea about the time, but it’s far from noon.”

Then before she had a chance to comment, Mark continued. “Why are you running away from me with every chance you get?”

Samantha looked at him with longing eyes, still with a glimmer of both sadness and regret.

“I need to know, Sam.”

“Didn’t I tell you last night, Mark?”

“I did not sleep a wink thinking about everything you said. After the sex we had. Did you?”

Samantha hesitated for a moment. “No.”

A deep sigh exploded from Mark’s lungs. “Then why? I get it, I’m not tall like him, not as handsome, maybe half as smart—”

The woman rushed to shush him. “That doesn’t even matter—”

“All that I gave to you and still am giving is care and respect. And lo—”

In the distant living room, the sharp ring of a phone cut through what could have been Mark’s confession. Samantha hurriedly distanced herself from the bed, recognizing that the sound belonged to her phone.

“…fuck it.” Mark concluded and gathered a loose shirt from his wardrobe to throw over his head. He plunged to his feet to close the notebook where he had put his thoughts and feelings into lately. It was such a painful blur what Mark was feeling, far from the fairytales love ever promised, and it was blurry, Samantha’s voice speaking hurriedly from the other room, at some point fading in such a manner he could not recognize as hers. After a couple more prolonged seconds, Samantha’s head perked from behind the doorframe, watching Mark’s movements with a heavy heart. “Jonathan rang, the hospital is calling for the board of directors. They want me there earlier.”

“Yeah, sure, you should go.” Mark replied absentmindedly, not even sure he was processing anything else beyond the disappointment of his feelings. The bitterness did not go unnoticed.

“Mark…” Samantha tried getting closer, but Mark did not give any sign of mirroring her actions. She backed away. She settled for another question. “You’re leaving again today?”

“Tonight, yes.” He turned to look at her with a knot in his throat. “I need to start packing and all that.”

In a futile attempt to reestablish a connection with Mark, Samantha ultimately walked away from the cold doorframe, biting into the plush of her lower lip to push back the tears. At long last, she had found someone again, to treat her right and engulf her heart with warmth and joy. Was fear bigger than love? Perhaps it was. Was her pride bigger than Mark? It should not have been. As the woman gathered her scattered clothes from the lover’s nest which was Mark’s living room, and eerie sentiment started crawling to her faster and faster. It was as if Mark felt it too when he approached, replacing her in the doorframe. His arms were folded over his torso and there were abrupt lines under his eyes.

“I don’t think we’ll see each other again.” Mark spoke finally and there was some bigger denial force which led Samantha to believe he was just speaking about the present day.

“No, it’s alright, you must pack, meet up with the others. I think it’s going to be a full day at the hospital, anyway, so don’t worry about me!” Samantha cheered and forced a fake smile out of Mark. He did not want to say more.

“Murphy and Millo are outside, just so you know. I let them out into the backyard after you fell asleep.”

“Sure, I’ll get Murphy on the way out. Thanks.”

There was no intimacy during the last seconds of Samantha’s departure, just fugitive smiles shared, and Mark did not follow her outside. The eerie feeling the woman had previously culminated when Murphy suddenly started yelping and crying that he did not want to leave. As if he’d never come back.

Samantha put on her white coat in her office, straightening the wrinkles in the magenta crayon dress hugging her body. She pushed the hair tightened in a ponytail from under the collar, and let it swing like a metronome for a while. There was a pile of medical files on the desk which needed her careful revision for the day, yet the only thing capturing her attention was Mark’s cold demeanor during their parting. Fingers were curling at the hem of the coat, eyes fixated on a faraway point outside the window. Samantha did not hear Jonathan coming in.

“Sam?” Jonathan approached, briefly tapping at her shoulder. She flinched at the unexpected contact, broken off from her trance.

“Sorry, Jonathan.” She coughed shortly to gather her voice, turning to face the other. “What’s up?”

Jonathan observed her features, devoid of the usual happiness she had lately. “Did anything happen between you and Mark?”

Samantha frowned and for a moment forgot Jonathan knew her better than anyone. Or at least used to. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.” Before Jonathan commented. “Please. What do you need?”

“Nothing in particular, I stopped around to ask about the management meeting. There are rumors you want to step down?”

She nodded her head. “I do. I hate this politics and it’s not really my thing. I want to go back to treating people full time. This time for real.”

A small pause and then a sincere smile appeared on Jonathan’s lips. He opened his arms and Samantha gladly took the invitation to wrap around him. Jonathan gently pulled her head into his shoulder, towering over her. “Congratulations. We’ve been waiting for you for so long. Does this mean you talked to him? To Mark?”

Samantha tightened her grip around Jonathan. His back was as broad as she remembered it to be.

“Then why are you sad?”

She just shook her head. “Okay, I’ll stop. We can speak when you feel like it. I lied to you earlier, I actually came to tell you something else.”

“Oh?” Samantha pulled away, watching Jonathan with curious eyes. Jonathan cleared his throat, still holding Samantha close to him. It might as well have been for the last time that he did.

The nervous pacing of a nurse interrupted them with a knock on the open door. Jonathan let go of the woman, straightening his back. He winked at Samantha, with a playful smirk on his lips that she had not seen in a long time. She was overwhelmed with curiosity, especially since, even before the beginning of their relationship, that small gesture was always associated with mischief.

“Doctor Stoss, there is a patient here who wants to meet you. I understand you treated his wife in the past.”

“Of course, I’ll join him momentarily. Thank you, nurse.”

Samantha turned back to Jonathan after the nurse had walked away. “Hey, do you think we could call in the late-night motorcycle ride we talked about? I could really use it. And we could talk more, as it seems you have one or two things to confess to me.”

Jonathan laughed. “Count me in, then. I’ll walk with you; I’m heading to the reception area anyway.”

Truth was, people never get to be ready for the situations life puts them through. They never get warnings, never get spoilers, always hit again and again with the unforeseen and never get used to it. In the lobby of the reception area, Samantha recognized the man looking for her, all too well, with little tweaks and rough around the edges. Next to him was a woman, showing signs of pregnancy, and it all felt like history was replaying all over again. In a cruel deja vu.

“Doctor Stoss,” the man spoke, and a shiver ran down Samantha’s spine. Jonathan felt it and made himself busy around the area, in case she needed him. “We meet again.”

“Mister Dalton, yes.” Samantha composed herself but her skin must have been so pale from the sheer shock. “How can I be of use?”

“I know what you must be thinking.” The man continued, keeping a distance. “It’s not you that I hate, if I have that anymore in my heart. My sister,” gesturing toward the feminine silhouette next to him “she recently found out that she is pregnant, and we wish to monitor everything meticulously from the start.”

Samantha could not comprehend the words spoken to her. “That’s certainly very good thinking but why me? There are many skilled doctors in Seoul who I’m sure can help you with whatever you need.” She then looked down at the white floor. “I did not even forgive myself, so how could you?”

Dalton’s sister reached out for Samantha’s hand in a compassionate gesture which took Samantha by surprise. The man was looking away, not with a distraught expression, but rather one which was desperately fighting for the closure he so much needed. “You should forgive. We both know it was not you. We do.”

So many thoughts were rushing at that moment through Samantha’s mind, crowding and emptying and then crawling in colossal nonsense. The past weeks had been full of the unexpected, of unknown emotions, unknown people, and unknown happenings. Mark came to her mind again. How was it a coincidence that only the night before she was undoing the strings of pain aching at her heart, only to be followed by the father whose two most important people were lost from this life, looking to her for treatment?

“You are foreign like us, so you do understand the obvious choice. We read your scientific papers and all the good you did for the people. Despite us losing our dearest wife and sister, we want to bring his niece and my daughter into the world, loud cries and healthy. By your hands.”

Jonathan’s smile was so stretched out that it could have reached the galaxy. Samantha turned to him by instinct, to find him scribbling a happy face on an empty admission form, as happy as his oozing joy. Then she turned to the brothers, to be met by a sincere look in mister Dalton’s eyes. The sign for which she hoped would come finally did.

“Mister Dalton, please find one of these admission forms and fill it in on my patient’s behalf. Let’s go to an examination room.”

Jonathan giggled akin to a child. “Doctor Williams, if you could help me bring the other files I had, please.”

In light of the events unfolding before her very eyes, Samantha felt something click in her conscience. All the signs in the world could not have been louder to tell her it was time she came face to face with her feelings and her pride. For all that mattered, she had to confess to Mark what was on her mind, which was him and him alone. The mornings drew their breath from him, the days flew by to reach him, and the dusk settled to be with him. There couldn’t have been any other. It could not make sense with anyone else, it had to be Mark.

Now, or never.

Amidst packing the usual stuff for the last leg of the tour, Mark had an uneasy sentiment throughout. He replayed the moment they lay together on the summer grass in the park, teasing and laughing at one another, sewing little by little what he thought would be an indisputable connection. She drew him in, with the audacity of a thief and the serenity of a child. The smell of her skin filling the air bewitching him, the amber of her eyes twinkling like the brightest of stars, and oh the sound of her voice. She was a midsummer night’s dream.

Only she proved to be just that. A dream. Who was he to intrude, if she did not want him?

Mark took a glance at himself in the mirror and laughed at how hypocritical he was. Blaming his mishap on Samantha’s clear boundaries. You aren’t that guy, Jinyoung kept repeating to him, time and again, and by the time he realized he truly was not that guy, he had already done the damage to himself. During Mark’s career, with the bright lights and the fame, most of the girls he met were shallow, looking for easy ways to get out. They all wanted him; he never wanted them. Now that he wanted her, she did not want him. How pitiful that must have felt, to walk with your head held high into a trap thinking it would be a reward. And Samantha was not like anyone else he’d had, she was everything all the other women were not. Fierce, independent, addictive. In between the sheets, he did not believe sex and love could coexist and mean something. And Mark wanted her, with every piece she carried, even more so to fool himself he could help her heal, put a purpose on love again.

Human beings are selfish by nature, far from being perfect. Mark could not push a woman to be with him, against her own will. He would rather suffer than live a lie. Against all odds even, he stopped believing she would give them a chance.

So, to let her go was what he could do, for the sake of both of them.

At the crack of sundown, Mark brought his luggage to the van and joined with the rest of the guys to leave for the airport. He must have exuded a sense of sadness because the usual cheery atmosphere turned into a looming silence.

“Mark? Everything okay?” Jackson asked, putting his phone to the side.

“Yeah, sort of.” Mark replied and put the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, with a loud sigh. Ultimately, he gave up. “Everything is not okay.”

Jinyoung just sighed and folded his arms over his chest. Mark turned his body to the side to speak with the driver. “Can we make a stop to SMP hospital?”

“What are you even doing, adding oil to the fire?” Jinyoung commented, clearly dissatisfied that his friend just chose to torture himself further.

Mark fixed the hood over his eyes, relaxing his body into the fabric of the seat. “I’m letting her go.”

Bambam almost spit the water he was drinking. “You’re doing what now?”

But Mark just ignored the guys, opting to stay silent during the rest of the ride to the hospital. Admittedly, both Jinyoung and Jackson were surprised by Mark’s disclosure. Something had to happen during the night before for Mark to take such a decision, especially as they saw and knew about the feelings Mark harbored for Samantha. They knew better than to pry, Mark would share when he considered appropriate, and all they had to do was to be there for him.

Thoughts were racing through Mark’s mind, as was his heart in his chest, trying to figure out what exactly he would say to rip the band-aid as fast as possible. Whose band-aid he was going to rip off most probably would belong to him, still against his better feelings. Was he an impostor for not fighting more? Although there is nothing louder than the silence of two people being in love but walking away because someone had to choose themselves over the other?

“We’re here, Mark.” Jackson broke the silence, shaking Mark off his trance. “Still going?”

Mark just cracked open the door of the van in response, unpeeling himself hastily from his seat. Back in the car, there was an avalanche of buzzing coming from the cellphones of the other guys, and there was a collective shock.

“Oh my God”, the leader of the group spoke, looking through the pictures their manager had just sent them in the shared groupchat. “This is very bad.”

“Is it Samantha in all of them?” Jackson spoke and could not believe what he was seeing.

“Mark will have to make a statement for this shit, there’s no way. Where did these even come from?” Bambam threw his phone on the back seat. “Is it a fact Dispatch is going to publish it?”

“But he’s letting her go, no? So that’s… nothing is good.”

Mark’s phone was left in the backseat of the car, assaulted by messages and calls from their manager. Jinyoung looked out the window at Mark’s back walking away from the van, still stuck upon the striking picture in which Samantha was heatedly kissing the bartender of the club where the group spent their night some weeks before. Where Mark inadvertently met Samantha. Another picture in the deck where a dashing blonde man was sharing laughs with Samantha on the back of a motorcycle. And another one, alongside a charming tall brunette, doting over one another on the golden sands of a foreign beach. “Let’s hope he’s letting her go.”

The walk from the back of the parking lot to the entrance of the main lobby started a high-pitched ringing in Mark’s ears and he could not realize when he was met by the hospital receptionist.

“What can I help you with, sir? Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes. Could you page doctor Stoss? I need to talk to her.”

The receptionist was happy to comply with his request and Mark leaned his elbows against the reception counter. There were unusually few people that night in the main lobby of the hospital, keeping the bleak silence of the hospital intact.

“Out of everyone I could have met tonight, I never expected to meet you here.”

Initially, Mark did not recognize the arrogant voice, but when he turned his body to face the owner of that voice, he felt his blood pressure increasing.

“Neither did I, Doctor Carter.” Mark noted, keeping a snarky comment, still a prisoner, under a feigned sense of respect. He was hoping Henry would just leave, albeit highly unlikely.

“I get it, you’re here to see my dear Sam. Heroic, if you ask me. Mark, was it? How important must you singers be.”

The way he was using Samantha’s name was making Mark angry, more than belittling himself. “I didn’t ask. I have nothing to say to you.”

Henry chuckled and fixed the collar of his white coat. Using his analytical and cocky demeanor, Henry was actively looking for ways to assert dominance over Mark. He posed the physical advantages at least. “I have a couple of things to say to you, might as well just listen.”

Mark turned his body fully toward Henry, keeping his stance strong and definitive. Henry arched a curious eyebrow and decided he’d entertain Mark.

“Do go ahead and speak to her while you have the chance. Next time you’d be back, maybe you won’t have it.”

“As if I need any permission to ask of you. You are too self-sufficient to see beyond your shadow.”

Henry laughed yet felt annoyed. He reached into his pocket to reveal a small velvety box to Mark. “When she becomes my wife, you won’t get fifty meters around her shadow.”

The guts of the guy made absolutely no sense to Mark who, out of instinct, just burst out laughing. There was a passer-by, alerted by the bizarre sounds of laughter.

“I don’t know if you’re either too stupid or too delusional but thanks for the laugh.” Mark concluded and threw his hands up in the air in a mocking gesture.

In any other setting, Henry would have grabbed Mark by the collar. He took a step closer to Mark’s silhouette. “Why? Think it is going to be you whom she chooses?”

Undeterred by the feelings of a broken heart twisted by an invisible knife, Mark mirrored Henry’s actions to also take a step forward. “Doesn’t matter who it is going to be but sure as hell it’s not going to be you, doctor. If you can keep calling yourself that.”

“Mark.” Samantha’s voice broke the tension between the two men and caused them to back away from one another. Henry put the velvety box back in the pocket of his coat, regaining his self-confidence. He met Samantha with one of his charming smiles, but she did not pay him any attention. Her eyes were focused on Mark, in a contradiction of happiness and fear. “You paged me, did anything happen to you?”

Mark glanced at Henry, signaling that he wanted to get some privacy with her.

“Let’s go to my office.”

“Will I have the honor to see you a tad later? I’ll get you home.” Henry chirped but Mark and Samantha turned their backs to him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He finally spoke, unable to acknowledge he was no longer Samantha’s main focal point.

Samantha closed the door of the office behind her in a clumsy motion, struggling to gather the words to speak. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, I thought you were flying out?”

Mark turned to her and voluntarily allowed her to see the sadness and impatience flowing over his face. “I am, the van is parked outside. I wanted to see you one last time.”

Samantha scoffed and suddenly felt like throwing up. She quickly recalled the looming feeling of the morning, Murphy’s refusal to leave Mark’s house. “One last time? You’re coming back soon; we’ll get to see each other again.”

Biting in the plush of his inner cheek, Mark walked towards her and tenderly cupped her face. “I cannot see you again, Sam. We won’t see each other again. I came to say goodbye.”

She shook her head in disbelief, watching Mark with a desolate expression. “What, no, no you can’t. What do you mean goodbye?”

The tear rolling down Samantha’s cheek twisted the knife deeper into Mark’s heart. He guided his thumb to wash it away. “I cannot be with one foot in and have the other ready to go. It’s very, very painful for me, and I can’t force you to love me if you don’t. I tried to be that guy, but I can’t. I want people to see us out in the street holding hands, I want people to hear us when we’re making love and know it’s me in our bed. I want to experience things I’ve never felt before with you. I want to kiss you right in Henry’s fucking face and I want all the love songs I’ll write to have you as their muse. Everyone else fades was about you. I don’t want to see you with anyone but me.”

Mark leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Samantha’s forehead, his lips finally whispering against skin as he pulled her into him. “I’m so sorry.”

Samantha’s eyes peeled wide open with each sound crossing the barrier of Mark’s lips, with each pulling the rug from under her feet. She did not become aware of when heavy tears flattened against her features, no whimper leaving her chest. The silence was deafening, and Mark was one inch away from slipping into a place where she could not reach. The warmth of Samantha’s tears was flooding into the crook of Mark’s neck, and he had to gather all ounces of strength to keep himself together.

Still, voice was trembling. He wouldn’t wish in his wildest dreams to make her cry, when he convinced himself, he would never. “I have to go, Sam. Please, let me go. I need you to be fine with it, you must be fine with it so I can go.”

No physical counter could account for the pain stacking up in Samantha’s being. Mark placed another butterfly peck on her forehead as he distanced his body from hers, briefly caressing her hand with his. Just as Mark was about to turn the knob of the door, a cry bubbled out from Samantha’s mouth.

“How will I love you if you leave?”

Mark’s fingers froze on the knob, his head jolting back to capture Samantha’s saddened frame. To then face her in utmost distrust. That was no moment for his mind to have him hallucinate. “What did you say?”

The woman faced Mark, repeating the sweet words Mark wished to hear, in the faintest of murmurs. “I love you, Mark.”

A sole tear escaped the chains of Mark’s eyelids, and he approached Samantha carefully, barely grasping the events unfolding. Samantha gathered from behind the thick veil formed on her irises that he was still there, still in her proximity. “I didn’t know I loved you the first time you left a note on my coffee table that you walked Murphy after that heavenly sex. I didn’t acknowledge I loved you when I poured my heart out in the rain to the other side of the world where you were, in New Delhi. I understood I loved you when you said you’d take me with you to see the world. And I felt I loved you when you were running through my fingers last night.”

Mark rushed to envelop her absolute anatomy into his arms, swallowed by the need to feel her every atom at the tips of his fingers. There was no force tempting her to break down crying, she was just silently staring into an empty imperfection in the floor. “I was so afraid you’d leave me.”

“I was so afraid you’d never have me,” Mark countered and buried his face into the crown of her head. “Gosh, I feel like an idiot now.”

“Will you leave me?”

When Samantha gathered the strength to finally make eye contact with Mark, the image of her, with the porcelain skin glowing underneath the cascade of tears, with the glimmer of the eye burning with fear, was alluringly devastating. Samantha was convinced the wound of a bullet wouldn’t hurt as badly as Mark denying their love. It all should have started to fall in place. It all should have started to make sense. She should have thanked every deity the otherworldly coincidence for putting mister Dalton into her path, and she also knew she had a long way of repenting for the hurt she caused to Mark. Part of which he confessed again, one too many times. For all of which, she almost chose to ignore.

Almost is never enough.

“It’s almost been half an hour; we are going to lose our plane.” Jinyoung observed, growing steadily impatient. “Someone should go and get him.”

“I’ll go,” Jackson volunteered, fixing the champagne-colored shirt on his body. “We all know how shit this situation is but you of all people should know not to get mad.”

Jackson hopped off the car, to make his way to the hospital entrance. With the paparazzi resurfacing all of a sudden, he wished to be fast and smooth and not attract any more unwanted attention that would add to the already poor situation. Jackson followed the directions to a corner of the lobby where the management offices were listed and took an elevator to the second floor, in search of Samantha Stoss’ office. A quick question, among his fine features and a gentle smile, was all he needed to locate the room towards the middle of an adjacent corridor. From far away, Jackson noticed two people were coming to the same direction as he was going, a beautiful curly haired woman, and a tall blonde manly figure, both in surgical attire.

The faster they approached, the more he recognized the man was the same in the picture with Samantha, straddling the two wheeled vehicle. Their presences were the sole ones in the corridor. Not the one to jump so quickly to conclusions, Jackson chose to be mindful of the other man’s actions.

“Could we help you with something, sir?” the man spoke, a hint of confusion in his voice as he failed to place Jackson in that scenery. It was clear that he did not know who he was. Not the same could have been said about his companion, whose eyes acknowledged his presence differently from that of a complete stranger.

Leena watched him intently and the virtually unnoticeable gesture of her wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue forced Jackson to linger slightly. “Oh, don’t mind me, thank you. I am here for Doctor Stoss.”

Jonathan quirked his eyebrows. “Samantha is quite popular around these parts. So, I gather there’s someone else besides Mark?”

The last remark was intended more for Leena who reciprocated Jackson’s lingering action. “I am not sure bandmates toss their girls around to one another. Am I wrong?”

Jackson chuckled and Jonathan could not help but feel dissatisfied with the exchange. “Much to my dismay, Mark met Doctor Stoss first. Otherwise, who knows?”

Leena laughed and before Jonathan had the chance to reply, Jackson continued. “Apologies, I wish I had more time to stay, I came to take Mark, so we won’t lose our flight.”

“Mark is here?” Leena followed curiously and watched Jackson extend his hand to open the door. Then, leaning to Jonathan, voice lowering into a whisper, eyes fixated on Jackson’s body dressed elegantly in Louis Vuitton attire. “What if they’re having sex?”

“I’d feel too bad to end the goodbye sex.”

Jackson opened the door to meet a hugging Samantha and Mark. Fully clothed otherwise, Jackson noticed Samantha’s face was smeared with tears and he could only hope Mark made it as easy as possible. The couple quickly pulled apart, and Samantha brought her hands to her eyes, to wipe them. Mark frowned at Jackson, if anything to show genuine confusion.

“What are you doing here, Jackson?”

“I hope you’ve finished breaking up because as of right now, you do not really have any other choice.” Previous chapter

[mykoreanlove]

I wanna know everything, all about you

Today was officially one of those days that made you wonder if you somehow turned into the universe’s public enemy. After dodging one catastrophe after the other you plummeted into your office chair, folded your hands above your head and let out a long, deep sigh.

Thoughts of quitting your job and pitying yourself were interrupted by the noise coming from your leather bag. You grabbed your phone and smiled wholeheartedly as you read the name on the screen: Jinyoung.

You wanted nothing more than to leave this shithole behind and jump into his muscular arms venting about the horrible day you had but you were very reluctant to do so. You haven’t been dating for that long and you were still insecure at times, wanting to keep your strong and non-vulnerable image alive. You rarely opened up about heavier topics, let alone cried in front of him. The fear of him leaving you once he figured out that you were no way near perfect was lingering in the back of your mind too often. You shook your body interrupting that train of thought, took a deep breath and answered the call.

Hello?, you said nervously. Jagiya! You felt his smile through the phone which melted your heart instantly. Jinyoung’s smile was the first thing you noticed about him when you two first met that day at the river. It was beyond easy to fall for that smile that turned his deep brown eyes into the shape of crescents, exposing his whiskers and turning him into the most adorable human to ever exist. I miss you. How is your day going?

You gulped. You hated lying, especially to him but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit what was going on. You tried your best to adapt to his chirpy energy and told him that your day was amazing, but full of work. Oh, really? Long night in the office then?

You felt your stomach churn but tried to remain calm. Yeah, there’s still a lot to do. In fact, I think I need to go now. You said your goodbyes and ended the call hastily, feeling worse than before. Since you couldn’t concentrate on work anyways you grabbed your bag and fled out of the office.

You hated lying and you hated your reasons for doing so even more. What kind of girlfriend were you? The kind to always assume the worst, the critical voice in the back of your mind reminded you. A deep sigh left your lips as you made your way home.

Living in Seoul was terrifying yet wonderful at the same time. You loved the architecture – walking through the streets at night was one of your favorite things to do. The city felt vibrant at night, full of lights, full of people. You loved the feeling of getting lost in the masses, of always discovering something new. The thought alone brightened your mood and you automatically found yourself going out the door again, not even bothering to bring your phone with you.

You wandered around aimlessly as you absorbed the lights, sounds and energies of the people around you. For a moment you forgot about the shitty day at work, the way you felt about lying to your boyfriend and all the other troubles occupying your mind. Not long after you came to a stop at your favorite place of the whole city: Han river.

You watched the light’s reflection on the water and relaxed – for the first time today you felt at ease. You sat down on a wooden bench and took it all in when someone sat down next to you.

Y/N.., you turned to your side facing the person next to you. Your eyes widened in shock as you realized who was calling out your name. Jinyoung, you whispered. Wanna explain what you’re doing here? Concerned eyes were looking at you, searching for the truth in your eyes, as well. You looked down at your hands which were folded on your lap, too ashamed to face him. Breathing deeply used to help with holding back tears but this time it failed you. Hey, Jinyoung’s voice softened as he put you into a strong embrace.

You managed to stabilize your breathing which luckily also stopped the crying. Jinyoung took your face into his hands while looking at you with the most loving gaze asking if you were okay. As you nodded your head, he wiped away the last tears and smiled at you. Let’s go, he took your hand in his, helping you to your feet while smiling his most radiant smile. Wha..? Your questioning look got interrupted by his playfulness. You’ll see, and with that he kissed you and dragged you along to his car.

Jinyoung tried to cheer you up on the ride home by telling you lame jokes and quizzing you on the most random stuff. He figured the more absurd, the better – anything really to put a smile on your face. As you both entered his flat you were greeted with the coziest pillow tent you have ever seen. Your eyes widened as you took it all in – several colored pillows, blankets and even fairy lights transformed his living room into a playground for lovers. You felt his breath on your neck as he whispered into your ear, Do you like it?

You turned around and swung your arms around his neck pulling him into a close kiss. I love this, you whispered softly. But why? Jinyoung frowned his forehead and looked at you seriously. He took your hand in his and guided you to the fort taking a seat on the plushy pillows. Y/N, you lied to me earlier, didn’t you? You felt the heat in your cheeks, hating to be confronted like that. You see, when I called you earlier, I could tell that something was wrong. You didn’t sound like yourself, and I sensed that something was troubling you. But you said you were fine. I figured you did not want to talk about it, he faltered, at least not with me. You saw the sadness in his eyes driving you crazy as upsetting him was the last thing you wanted to do. I figured that you needed something to cheer you up, so I built this. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me about it but I still want you to know that I am here for you.

His words touched you in a way you haven’t been touched before which resulted in you crying again. Before he could hug you again you spoke up and explained yourself. When you called earlier,  I wanted nothing more than coming home to you and vent about my stupid day and have you hold me in your strong arms and tell me that everything is going to be okay, you sniffled while looking down at your hands. But I couldn’t. You felt his hand grabbing your chin upwards and now facing him directly. Why not?

You took a deep breath and smiled shyly, because I don’t want you to think less of me. Jinyoung took your hands into his, looking at you dumbfoundedly. Why would I think less of you? 

Because I’m not perfect. I’m flawed. I have shitty days. I get mad. I cry. I feel like a victim and like nothing is going my way and I don’t want you to see me as a failure. I need to be perfect for you. Your eyes widened in shock as you realized what you just had said. Your boyfriend, if you could still call him that, still held your hands lovingly in his. You felt relieved yet at the same time on edge. What if this confession ruined it all? What if this was the end?

Y/N, baby, his eyes almost piercing through you. Are you afraid that I’m gonna leave you because you’re not perfect? Because listen, a broad smile formed on his lips, I’m not perfect, either. I have flaws, too. I have shitty days, too. I get mad, too. And I also feel like a failure at times, but I would never leave you because of that. I don’t need you to be perfect, I need you to be real.

You looked at him with wide eyes, clearly not anticipating this kind of answer. Jinyoung moved closer to you, now whispering almost inaudible, I like you exactly the way you are. In fact, I wanna know everything, all about you. The good, the bad, the ugly – all those things make you you and well, he chuckled, I am hella crazy about you. He leaned in for a kiss, just a pec to see if you were down for it.

When you felt him moving away from you, you grabbed his neck swiftly and pulled him on top of you while simultaneously laying down on the ocean of pillows. The kisses you shared were colored by longing, desperation even. It still frightened you to open up completely, but you were curious about it, too. Something about Jinyoung, the way he cared for you gave you safety. It felt like it was okay to jump because he was there to catch you. You broke the kiss and pushed him away from you. His dark eyes, now even darker filled with lust, looked at you questioningly. How did you find me?

He was now hovering over you leaning on his elbows giving you pecks on your nose. You really have no idea? As he was leaning in for another peck you placed your index finger on his lips. Tell me, loverboy, grinning widely, or no more kisses for you. His eyes widened in shock, Okay, okay, okay. Don’t do this to a man. You both laughed at his overly dramatic expression and then continued to stare into each other’s eyes. I drove over to your apartment because I wanted to kidnap you into my fort, you see. But you didn’t open up. You also didn’t answer your phone which made me think. You looked at him expectedly, surprised by his many efforts. Where would my beautiful girlfriend go when she’s clearly stressed out? He kissed your nose. Where would she go if she needed a place to relax and collect herself? Another peck on your left eye. Where would she hide? Followed by a kiss on your right eye. Since it wasn’t me, I figured that it must be another place that gives you comfort and security. And if I were in your shoes, I would have gone to Han river because to me that’s what that place represents.

You looked at him doubtingly. It does? Jinyoung smiled again, Yes, at Han river I found the thing that gives me the most comfort and security. That’s where I found, you interrupted him by blurting out ME!

[squishyneet]

I love that Jinyoung went from a youthful, stylish gangster with friends to a cranky, grumpy old man who never smiles and still manages to be more bearable than the other gen zero ppl. May I say he aged the most gracefully? He was the best looking in the past too. I would think he is canonically supposed to be handsome like Daniel if they are related since Daniel is considered handsome.

[pokkomi]

CHOI JINYOUNG SPOTTED !! I love him so so much he's adorable (I MISS SEASONS OF BLOSSOM and have yet to watch the kdrama)

im never escaping this skank… im pretty sure i had him as a pfp for a WHILE before too😹😹 I LOVE SEASONS OF BLOSSOM SM OMG i cried reslly really hard in the second part🙁🙁. i actually havent watched the kdrama either but I PLAN ONTO‼️‼️

[slowd1ving]

[NOSTOS] SNIPPET ゜・JINYOUNG PARK

for anyone curious about the type of planning I do when I write me when I am unable to erase tension from the fluffiest of writing (sorry anon I promise this will end with so much fluff literally) (and emotionally I swear)

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

[ofdamnation]

gotta go to bed 'cause my boyfriends up early tomorrow , so sad about it 'cause the threads goin' on right now are ???? get ready for me to fuck up your lives further in the morning , goodnight loves!

[seokwoosmole]

I know I will ball my eyes out when this drops

[minsgis]

Hot and cold just like her sister. He refrained from rolling his eyes. The Jang sisters sticking together through thick and thin. Having an older brother himself, he tried to be more understanding since he would like to think that he'd behave the same way. "Don't worry, I won't tell her that we shared drinks. Already enough that she's in the not talking to me stage again, don't want her to do the same with you." He mumbled, taking a sip of his own drink. "That's it for your purse then? You don't want to try and look for it?"

in hindsight, they should get along perfectly fine. jinyoung grew a liking to the ateez rapper from the stories that her sister shared. as a protective and loving older sister, though, she swayed her opinion about the taller man based on what wonyoung would tell her. "no, i don't want to cause a scene." her eyes still trying to scout the area. "let's have our last drink and part ways. i shouldn't even be talking to you right now." jinyoung's hot demeanor took the glass from his hands.

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Five

Hello everyone!! Long time no see, indeed! I must say I hit writer's block these days but in no way did I abandon this story. Even more so now, when I am so eager to continue. This chapter will bring you spicy surprises and turning points ^^. Enjoy!

~6k words, angst, smut

I want to make you forget about that ex. In truth, I loved the idea of you overthinking all your texts. And I wanted all your neighbors to hear you yell when we have sex. I don’t want it to be a problem when we come together. And I don’t want us a secret.

Jackson plopped down on Mark’s couch, still carrying a serious look of disbelief on his face. “Look, I agree but Bambam literally said what we all thought. Collectively.”

Mark rolled his eyes at Jackson’s remark. He was searching for another song in his playlist to play on his vintage stereo system.

“I think we were more shocked to meet her like that,” Jinyoung continued, leaning against an empty small table in the living room. “Showing up at our studio.”

“And in that motorcycle jacket? Take my money. Did you know she had a bike?” Jackson put a hand dramatically over his chest.

Mark nodded. “Yeah, saw it first time I went to her house.”

“Living the dream. Hottest date, to ride the bikes together around town.”

“Could you stop fantasizing on my behalf?” Mark chuckled in Jackson’s direction and the latter laughed at the note. Mark then turned to Jinyoung, who was cocking an eyebrow. “I had no idea she would come to the studio, believe me. I wanted you to meet her under different circumstances.”

Jinyoung crossed his arms over his chest, a playful look in his eye. “You never told us why you came so early from your date.”

“Yeah, cause it wasn’t a date.” Mark commented and the other two men almost simultaneously turned to him. “Had the surprise to see her with another man.”

The playful look disappeared from Jinyoung’s expression. “You’d have to elaborate on that.”

“I can’t really elaborate, I didn’t stay around enough to see what happened next.” Mark shrugged his shoulders. “The guy had her backed against the lockers, a hand holding her cheek. It was not the first time he… they did that. It was the reason Sam came to the studio.”

“To explain.” Jinyoung completed, albeit not in agreement with the situation. “And what’s your take on that?”

Truth was, Mark did not have an exact answer to Jinyoung’s inquiry. Sure, the scenery of Samantha being present in the proximity of another man displeased and hurt Mark. He built some expectations for the two of them, carried away by their unquestionable synergy, and by the trust exuded by Samantha at every small dare or challenge presented by Mark. He believed in her words, and more than anything he believed in her. Mark believed in Samantha when she said she missed him, when she confided in him, when she said there would not be another guy. So, he put in the effort to carry himself in such a manner that would make Samantha desire him even more. At some point, Mark considered trying to have the talk with her, to play with his cards on the table, to build trust in them as more than just an arrangement.

At the very end, Samantha never promised anything, she never drew the line. Mark did not have it in him to throw the bouquet of the flowers he handpicked in the trash. But he was not indifferent to the image of her subjugated by the intimacy of another that was not him.

“I’ll hear her out.” Mark said lastly, seating himself by Jackson on the couch. A short quirk of the eyebrows as Jinyoung opted to simply nod his head.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jackson chuckled. “If you wanted us to actually believe you, you should have used your acting skills at least.”

“Why? Not that convincing?”

Mark agreed with Jackson. “We’ve known each other 12 years. It takes so much more than that.”

The three of them laughed. Truly, a bond that not many people get to have in a lifetime. And Mark knew Jinyoung, as much as everyone else, was looking out for him.

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

Jinyoung sighed and threw his hands in the air. “Look, I know, a good-looking, bike-riding, smart surgeon woman, who has a mysterious aura about herself. I’d be a hypocrite to say I wouldn’t get interested.”

“You know what he’s gonna say.” Jackson extended an arm over the backrest of the couch.

“All I’m saying is that, given the circumstances, I wouldn’t be happy at all. If a guy touched or held the girl I liked like that.”

All eyes were focused on Mark.

“But why don’t you talk to her and set the record straight? I’m all for explaining,” Jackson shifted his body to face Mark, “but if you told her, you liked her beyond just the sex, at least you’d know it’s either this or that.”

Jinyoung moved his hands in a gesture that indicated he agreed with Jackson. And Mark agreed with them, too. In any given situation, he would be the type of man to express his wishes and voice his wants and needs. Mark did not necessarily like the chasing. Within his chest, he knew why he was still playing the game and why he did not walk away the second he saw Samantha with the stranger man who was playing with his mind. Regardless, Mark let the little evil elves whispering in his ear take the reins of reasoning. The bell of the front door started ringing vigorously.

“It’s complicated.” Mark rose from the couch. “It’s also Samantha at the door,” said he, half-doubtful he spoke the words to convince himself it truly was her at the door. When he opened it, he actually made sure of it.

Samantha looked very different since the morning visit to the studio. The commanding behavior softened to a natural feminine aura, the sun-kissed freckles no longer hidden behind foundation accompanied by the mellow smile she had the day they met, everything stunned Mark.

Samantha felt very different.

“Hey, beautiful.” Mark welcomed Samantha with an observation he’d hoped was as visible to her as much as it was to him. Mark was distracted by the lively bark of Murphy, eagerly anticipating a welcome as warm as his mother’s. So, he obliged, the smile sketched on his face growing as he knelt to ruffle Murphy’s fur.

Samantha followed Mark’s carefree movements with warmth coloring her features. She didn’t know what to expect from him; all that she hoped was that Mark wouldn’t look at her with repulsion. Instead, Samantha was met by the same jovial Mark she’d met the very first time. And it scared Samantha that Mark felt very different since morning, all the same.

Did he care, still?

“Hey, yourself.” Samantha replied and watched as he straightened his body to meet her eyes. How much did she wish that that would’ve been their reunion, that he’d plant a kiss on her lips and circle his arms around her frame in a longing embrace. Suddenly, Mark felt so far apart.

“Come in.”

Mark pushed the door open and guided Samantha into the living room. She noticed two very familiar silhouettes, Jackson as he was putting his leather vest on, and Jinyoung as he was gathering his things. Murphy’s little woofs distracted the two men into looking at the source of sound, smiling at the little creature. Eyes speedily travelled to Samantha’s physique, and both greeted her with a smile. Perhaps Jackson’s more expressive. He was the first one to formally introduce himself. There was a lively song playing in the background.

“I’m Jackson, nice to meet you, finally.”

Samantha prevented her eyes from widening. Maybe Mark did speak about her. She took Jackson’s hand and shook it, enjoying his amiability.

“Likewise, Jackson. I truly hope you didn’t think I was a freak or anything.” Samantha offered a smile of her own eliciting a chuckle from the other. She caught Jinyoung in the corner of her eye as he examined her. Not blatantly, yet not covertly either. Samantha wondered what they both thought about her.

“Far from that,” Jinyoung chimed in, giving his own hand for a greeting, “but you definitely incited the collective curiosity.”

Samantha took the invitation, meeting Jinyoung halfway. Out of everyone, she figured he was the toughest to impress. And on good merit, nonetheless. “I wouldn’t say about myself that I’m an open book but please know I’m more than happy to clear the curiosities.”

The corner of Jinyoung’s lips lifted in a modest smirk. “Maybe I’ll heed the invitation.”

Jackson cleared his throat and Jinyoung pulled back. “Don’t worry about us, we were just leaving.”

“No bother at all. I wouldn’t want us to be so formal, it was very nice meeting you both.” Samantha extended her hands to offer the two men a warm wave and a small dip of her head. Jackson and Jinyoung both did the same, the last action they made prior to heading out the door. “Likewise, Samantha”.

Mark’s loud sigh doubled the echo of the closing door which caused Samantha to fiddle with her fingers. “I must have made a terrible impression, haven’t I? They definitely think I’m a freak.”

“Nope, no freak,” Mark turned around to walk toward Samantha’s direction. As he was approaching, he was unzipping his hoodie. “They just don’t know you. Actually, Jackson was quite smitten with you, I could swear he’d want to steal you for himself.”

It was the first time Mark had openly spoken about his members, even more so about anything that had to do with their opinion about her. Mark’s words were not reassuring enough for Samantha as eyes were still focused on her nervous fingers. She didn’t know what to make of the entire situation. “Jinyoung doesn’t like me.”

Mark grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt to throw it over his head. A bracelet at his wrist was tangling loosely when he guided Samantha’s chin to make her look at him. “Out of all of us, Jinyoung is the one who doesn’t play games when it comes to people. You have to make him trust you before he lets you in."

The initial nervousness Samantha felt while fidgeting with her fingers transformed into butterflies into her stomach. Although the main emotion she was feeling was uneasiness, at his words, and at his sudden naked torso. She had but a moment to watch the muscles of his abdomen contract and relax with the movement of the arm which was holding her frozen in place. Henry’s most similar gesture crossed her mind. “Do you play the game, Mark?”

Mark’s irises were fixated on hers. The tone of his voice softened and lowered with each spoken word, until it became little more than a whisper. A question for a question. “Are we playing the game, Sam?”

Samantha’s lips parted with a sigh, the knot in her stomach tightening. There was no hint to suggest that Mark was not serious with his inquiry. She knew the answer to his question, but the words were frozen like they weren’t hers to speak. While Mark was looking at her, with the stoicism of his body and the seriousness of his eyes, Samantha presented herself agonizingly transparent.

“Wasn’t this the way he was holding you?” taunted Mark, drawing closer to her in an even voice. His other hand found the clothed valley of her hips. “Did you want him to kiss you?”

“No.” Samantha stated, an ounce of desperation evading beyond her control. The infinitesimal distance Mark was keeping between them was slowly driving her crazy. And he knew he held all control. “At no point did I want him to kiss me.”

Silence followed. A harrowing silence growing heavier with each movement of Mark’s brown orbs drawing back and forth on her features. Samantha grabbed Mark by the chest. “Say something goddammit!” she urged.

Mark pulled Samantha into him and slammed his lips against hers. In the background, a sexual melody mix broke into the stereo system. Samantha wobbled on her feet, which caused Mark to tighten his grasp around her figure. The background music melted with the swift ringing in her ears and the tips of her fingers turned cold from the unanticipated contact. Mark’s kiss was raw and hurried, yet obscenely sensual. Samantha’s lungs were deflating quickly, and Mark did not seem too eager to let her breathe. It was the first time he initiated such a kiss. His lips had always worked against hers with tenderness, at times enticing, but never so ardently carnal.

It was a possessive kiss and Mark wanted Samantha to feel it.

Mark pushed their bodies into the couch, and he slid his knee in between her thighs. During the brief moment their lips were separated, Samantha gasped for air, which was rather a sharp moan with Mark settling above her, and his clothed knee tormenting her womanhood. “Mark, I can’t breathe.”

“I couldn’t breathe either when he was towering over you, Samantha.” His visage was wearing the same chilling expression, albeit a sliver of distress hiding behind it. “I imagined him doing all sorts of things to you, with you. Fuck.”

Mark tilted his head to the side, a canine digging into the plush of his lower lip. Samantha’s eyes were watching him intensely. She was devoid of any courage to speak a word. Never would she have imagined she would see Mark like that. Not for her.

“I missed you girl, I missed you. And I…” You’re all I fucking think about.

Samantha gulped. She was observing Mark’s every gesture, every little shift in his facial expression, every word he was speaking. All the feelings in her chest were strangers and Mark was tempting and enchanting. He was everything Samantha wanted him to be. Even when he suppressed his thoughts, Mark was everything Samantha wanted. And he was there, in her immediate grasp.

You’re all I ever thought about.

“Kiss me, Mark.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Mark lowered his body instantly to connect the kiss in a lustful motion. His tongue lost no time to part Samantha’s lips and find her own into a frenzied tango. As his hands slid down to play with the hem of her t-shirt, so did the ever-growing feelings for the woman he was holding. The blood in his veins was pulsating with apparent unrequited affection, and it set him ablaze.

Mark broke the kiss in a nimble motion to undress Samantha of her shirt, to reveal her braless breasts. The tantalizing sight aroused Mark like it did the first time. For him, sex with Samantha felt like it was the first time every time. There was always something new he’d discover in the voluptuousness of her body, in the way her body would curve differently with each heated touch of his hand. Mark licked his lips and undid her shorts.

“Mark…” Samantha mewled, the cold breeze circling her breasts provoked a shudder. She edged her breasts as her eyes darted back and forth between Mark’s hands and the growing bulge in his jeans. Samantha was struggling to form coherent thoughts when he was immorally commanding the pace. She didn’t fight the vulgar lust invading her core. It was easier giving in to the euphoria than acknowledging the truth.

Easier than voicing that Mark should be the one.

“Tell me, darling.” There was a wicked inflection in Mark’s tone, busy with undressing Samantha of her shorts and underwear all at once. “What do you want?”

If it was any other moment, Samantha would have said it was his love she wanted. Still, a hue of shyness colored her rosy cheeks. “I want you, Mark.”

Mark was happy to obey, even if he was convinced Samantha was not speaking seriously. She wanted his body, while he desired her soul. In the heat of the moment, for the short time they’d spend as one, Mark heard what he needed to. That she wanted him, and she’d choose him. He lowered his body to plant kisses through the valley between her breasts, the butterfly pecks eliciting sultry moans out of Samantha’s throat. When his lips passed her chest’s threshold, Mark continued the delicious trail to her abdomen, one hand encircling Samantha’s breast. The other was keeping her thigh from squirming.

Samantha closed her eyes and threw her head into the soft material of the couch to indulge in the intense eroticism Mark was injecting into her body. When his sinful mouth reached her womanhood, Mark chuckled. Then he continued to leave kisses on her inner thigh, deliberately ignoring the wetness of her cavern. Samantha was vexed by Mark’s actions, and she groaned in protest. The hand previously on her breast travelled to her hip to intertwine with her fingers. Mark acknowledged her objection by nibbling a violet spot into her thigh. He traced it with the free index, shifting his body to worship Samantha’s other thigh with blissful movements of the tongue. The little perverted sounds she was making were truly driving Mark to impatience.

The way Samantha’s body was submitting to his febrile touches indicated that she wasn’t that far away either.

Mark pulled away momentarily to unzip his jeans and dispose of them on the floor. The rupture of their connected hands forced Samantha to dig her fingers into the plush of the sofa. The heat in her genitals was much more intense than she anticipated it would be. The simple fact that Mark retreated from tending to her pelvis made her moan loudly, and her vagina clench. Samantha watched him as he undressed himself to reveal his throbbing shaft, and she bit her lip in anticipation. Mark smirked at her and climbed atop her to seat himself between her legs. As he was leaning down to reach her level, the tip of his cock rimmed against soaked clit.

Mark linked their foreheads together, supporting himself with one arm by the side of her head. His other hand rested at the cusp of her jaw. He angled himself at her saturated entrance and slid the tip of his penis inside her. A guttural moan echoed in the air.

“We never did it like this, so tell me if it hurts.” Spoke Mark in a gentle tone and opened his eyes to observe Samantha. She gently shook her head and her fingers stretched into Mark’s shoulder blades to guide his body in a slow thrust. He let out a groan from the depth of his throat, feeling the creamy walls of her vagina enclosing around his shaft. Mark gave her a moment to adapt to his size, gazing intently at her. Samantha was so beautiful, with flushed cheeks and her splendid naked body, all of her offered to him.

Mark felt his heart ache.

“How can you say I’m not making love to you when I’m touching you like this?”

Samantha’s eyelids closed and fluttered open with Mark’s affirmation. The coherent words she tried to form were dispelled instantly when he started moving inside her with controlled thrusts, each forward move taunting her sweet spot. Samantha opened her mouth only to allow the moans to flood the air. And Mark was watching every contraction of her body and indulging in each pulsation of her pussy.

He leaned down to nip at the lobe of her ear. “When you’re giving yourself to me like this?”

“Mark…” Samantha reached to his face to lead the hazel of his eyes to hers. In his eyes she found the same commanding yearning but propelled by a raw sincerity that Mark had not given to her. Everything he was doing gave her a sense of serenity, fueled by the abnormally erotic movements of his hips. In a matter of minutes, she surrendered to him and to the zealous whines her lungs were making.

“What is it, baby?” He picked up the speed of his thrusts, heeding the contractions in Samantha’s womanhood. “You’re close, I know. What I didn’t know is how wet you could get.”

Samantha intended to avert her bashful expression, but Mark’s touch kept her focused on him. “Don’t hide. Let me take care of you.”

Amidst the whorl of sentiments and thoughts racing through her mind, Samantha found an anchor in Mark. She registered all the words he’d spoken to her and all the shielded gestures, and bare confessions. Samantha was powerless to respond, instead. There never was a man in her life to bear his heart on his sleeve, even half of how Mark was bearing his. In her normality, he was an abnormality. And still, he made good of his words and actions and took care of her.

Samantha relaxed in his embrace and extended her body to plant a kiss on his lips. A mellow kiss which Mark reciprocated so naturally that life halted for a second.

Then Mark enveloped Samantha as her body abruptly contracted. She held on to him as she reached for nirvana, her vocal cords enchanting Mark with lascivious breaths repeatedly. Hearing Samantha succumb to ecstasy was the sweetest testament Mark could receive. The hot blood in his veins met the point of boiling as he was getting closer to climax. A couple more lustful thrusts accompanied by roaring groans, each growing faster than the other, brought Mark as close to the edge as he could get. He guided himself out of Samantha’s core to reach his orgasm and paint her abdomen with his white cream.

Samantha enjoyed that particular view of Mark, so much that it was his turn to show a timid smile. It took a little while for Samantha to follow what happened, and when she did, both of them chuckled at each other.

“I’ll get some paper towels.”

“You’ll find me here.”

Samantha’s ears followed the sound of Mark’s steps and the muffled grunt that followed soon after. He returned with a handful of paper towels, and Samantha couldn’t look away from his still hard penis.

Mark took one cloth to clean his canvas half-heartedly. “Round two?”

Samantha giggled. “I’ll have to refuse. Round one was unexpectedly intense.”

“You have no idea how sexy you are.”

Samantha felt her cheek darken once more. She was watching silently as Mark was wiping her abdomen. When he was done, he walked away to throw the used napkins.

“Are you okay? You’re unusually quiet.” Mark’s voice reverberated through the kitchen.

“I’m alright, just a bit tired.” She responded, and Mark immediately walked back to her. He knelt down with her back facing her, gesturing for her to hop on his back.

“Let’s get to bed.”

Samantha hummed and attached herself to Mark’s body. She had never noticed how broad his back was, under the hoodies and oversized shirts he was usually wearing. Mark effortlessly rose from the ground and carried her to the nearby bedroom. He carefully seated Samantha on the edge of his neat bed, and she smiled to herself at the considerable number of pillows residing there. In front of the bed there was a small dressing which Mark opened to retrieve one clean shirt and a pair of shorts for himself.

“I don’t want you to get cold. Here, arms up.” Mark whispered, and Samantha complied with his actions. The dark shirt Mark had given her was large enough to reach her knees. He tossed the thin summery blanket away and helped Samantha up into the nook of his bed.

“Thank you, Mark. You’re so protective of me.” She smiled softly and happily accepted the invitation to encompass herself into Mark’s arms.

 He raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see. “You don’t want me to be?”

“I do,” she answered quickly and laced their hands together. “I like this a lot.”

Mark tilted his head to follow the lazy sunset shimmer through the window. The loose hand he folded under his head served as a good excuse to avoid looking Samantha in the eye. As easy as it had been to drown in her orbs while laying together, just as hard it was to do so while returning to reality. Samantha noticed the atypical silence. With the aphrodisiac sensations fading away, all the words that Mark spoke to her started to click. Samantha was drawing absentmindedly on Mark’s forearm with the tip of her index, trying to reproduce the memory of each phrase. The subtle agony of I couldn’t breathe either when he was towering over you, Samantha, the slight panic in the I imagined him doing all sorts of things to you, with you.

The melancholy in the How can you say I’m not making love to you when I’m touching you like this? which made Samantha’s heart tremble was the seed of hope planted in her soul. If there was any source of truth to say that Mark truly harbored feeling for her, it was not tangible anymore.

Mark, once again, felt so different.

 “What are you thinking about, Mark?” Samantha looked up at him just in time to see how breathtaking the warm colors of the sunset appeared on his features.

He was silent for a while. “About you.”

Samantha furrowed her eyebrows. “What about me? I’m right here.”

A little sigh. “Nothing… it’s just I’m leaving tomorrow, and we won’t see each other a while again.”

“I know…” Samantha’s voice trailed off in sadness. “I don’t want you to go.”

Mark gave a little squeeze to her hand, eyes still watching the first moments of dusk adorning the sky. “That’s not under my control, unfortunately.”

 “I don’t want you to go out of my life, Mark.”

Samantha could swear the vein in Mark’s wrist strained at her words. Still, his expression remained impassable. After a couple moments spent in unmerciful silence, he continued. “Do you think about us? About what we could be?”

The palm of her hand was starting to sweat. Easy answer? Yes, I cannot devote myself to anything that’s not you. True answer? Do you want to take my broken heart? Samantha sensed that she was running out of time, and in hindsight, she should have known that earlier. A man like Mark who had the world at the tips of his fingers, who could have anyone he wished for, wouldn’t say the things he said to any woman that easily. All of it meant something, it should have meant something. It was everything Samantha clung to, for it to mean something. She had to make a decision.

“Forget I asked. You don’t need to say anything.”

“He hit me, Mark.”

The music formerly playing in the background silence of the living room stopped altogether. Mark’s phone must have died, and so did his concentration at Samantha’s sudden confession. His head jerked back to her direction in an impulse to check if she was hurt, even if there was no earthly possibility for her body to be in physical pain at that moment.

Samantha’s mouth was dry, and it shocked her to see Mark’s immediate reaction. She didn’t lose him, he was still there with her. “He hit me after he killed a mother and her unborn child in the operating room.”

“How are we doing there, mrs. Dalton? Can you say something for me?”

Henry’s deft motions of his nimble hands kept raising the standards for a second-year resident. The attendings in the observing room were watching the awake brain surgery with great interest, as was the then-director of the hospital.

“Oh, I can’t wait for this to be done,” the woman rubbed her hand lovingly on her pregnant belly. “Sandra should know the adventures mommy went through.”

“Status on the baby, Doctor Stoss?”

Up until the question was addressed to her, Samantha did not unpeel her eyes from the fetal monitor. “Like a Swiss watch.”

“Keep saying the good news, Doctor Stoss. I’m sure mama Dalton would love to hear that more often.”

“Oh Doctor Carter, I’m sure you were born such a charmer.”

Samantha’s vision was fixated on the handle of the dressing door. She was explaining her memories as if she was living them again. “This surgery had half the hospital watching. It was a procedure previously not done in that medical center, and Henry had had the privilege to participate in one once when we were interns in Toronto. He’s thinking of himself as the hotshot, as he should. His skill and knowledge are top-notch. But they failed him.”

“Doctor Stoss over there can attest to me being a charmer. Or not.” Henry chuckled under his surgical mask, and he quickly stole a glance at Samantha, before focusing on the region of the tumor which he had just reached. “We’re here, mama. Shouldn’t take too long to take it out.”

Mrs. Dalton’s vitals spiked up a level and Samantha observed the nerves on her face. She left her intern in charge of the fetal monitor and approached the woman to reassure her. “It’s going to be okay. We’re here for both you and your little girl.”

Just as Samantha was returning to her previous post, henry was actively preparing to remove the tumor located in a tricky area of mrs. Dalton’s brain. “I’m in.”

The collective audience in the gallery leaned forward to witness Henry’s work. At that point, the loud beeping of the machines pierced the operating room with alarming sounds.

“Doctor Carter, baby’s vitals are starting to drop.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on with my baby?”

“Please try to remain calm, Mrs. Dalton. These reactions happen naturally when a tumor body is being extracted. Once I take this out, everything will get back to normal—”

“Only it didn’t.” Samantha’s fingers curled unconsciously as if reaching out for a scalpel. “I was repeatedly telling him I needed to do a C-Section to save the girl and put her in NICU. At seven months old, she had all the odds of surviving. If only we moved fast enough…”

The distressing sounds of the monitors multiplied when the woman lost consciousness. Her vitals became hectic graphics on the monitors, and Henry visibly stiffened.

“Henry, we are losing this baby. I need to perform the emergency C-Section now.”

“No. I’ll save them both, wait.”

While Henry was applying the standard emergency measures, Samantha’s attention was distracted by the uneasiness of the spectator gallery. She briefly noticed Jonathan, with a looming look on his face that any surgeon regardless of their specialty would understand. The unborn baby was losing its vitals.

“Henry, I’ll move forward. Scalpel, please!”

“I told you to wait! Doctor Stoss, I need you to follow the protocol of my OR.”

“I guess indeed it was his surgery. But those were not his lives to take.”

Half-heartedly, Samantha hesitated to start the neonatal protocol. While Henry had authority, he did not have a positive chance to save both lives. When the fetal monitor fell flat, Samantha went against his instructions and cut into the mother’s belly.

“By the time we took out the little girl, her heart had already stopped beating. We did all the resuscitation maneuvers we knew and could…” Samantha let out a sigh, and Mark pulled her tighter into him. “All hell broke loose. I don’t know when Jonathan got to the OR, but he was there for all of it.”

“Time of death…” Samantha’s discouraged voice echoed throughout the macabre silence of the operating room. “Six thirty-one.” Two paces away, resuscitation maneuvers were still going for the woman on the table. When Henry realized there was no use for them anymore, he stepped away from the body, prompting everyone else to follow his example. “Time of death, six thirty-five.”

Nobody in the room dared move a finger. Two casualties in an operating room which, on paper, could have been avoided. It was a medical disaster. Samantha pulled down her surgical mask, to try and take hold of the situation. “We’ll need to go outside and inform the father—”

“You let her die.”

All eyes fell on Henry. Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. “Excuse me?”

“That baby could have been saved.”

Henry’s voice grew louder, more assertive. Samantha stood her ground, deliberately choosing to ignore Henry’s last comment. “I understand this must be a difficult situation for you, Doctor Carter, but in no way am I to blame.”

“That baby could have been saved!”

As his voice grew into a striking holler, Samantha no longer recognized the man in front of her. She was searching for the proficient doctor, for the partner that he was. And for the lover that he used to be.

“Henry,” Samantha kept calm even though her head was spinning in disbelief “you told me to follow your protocol in your OR—"

 At that point, Samantha could not register what had just happened. Henry raised his hand at her and slapped her on the cheek. There was a shared gasp among the people in the room who refused to understand Henry’s tameless reaction. By the time Samantha tilted her head back to look at Henry, Jonathan had stepped up to punch him in the face.

Mark raised an eyebrow. Although he got off to a rocky start with Jonathan, his respect for him grew substantially.

“A couple of guys had to restrain Jonathan because clearly that wouldn’t have been the last punch he would’ve thrown. After that, I went to inform the father of his… losses. Henry was not allowed to accompany me. The father sued the hospital for malpractice, and I have no idea how they settled. I only saw Henry once, after that. They summoned all the medical operating staff to testify. He never looked me in the eye, not once. I wanted to believe that he was sorry, something to make me believe our relationship was not a lie. I never got closure for that.”

Mark waited patiently for Samantha to continue. When she did not, he placed a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. “Did you need that? Closure?”

She sighed. “I guess I did. When you think you have something of that magnitude with someone, only for it to fall apart in the most gruesome way, I needed some sort of a life raft. Truth is, we started falling apart even before he hit me. Henry was starting to become distant and full of himself. But I never expected him to be violent.”

Mark noticed the flake of regret in her voice, to briefly wonder how things are settled in the vast Universe. Hadn’t Henry done that, Mark wouldn’t have gotten to fall in love with her. Life was funny, that way.

Samantha sighed, once again, yet more out of liberation. Albeit painful, she truly needed to convey the feelings out loud for them to become less repressive. Maybe to disappear.

“Can you understand now, Mark? Why he was able to hold me down at all? Why it is tough for me to trust someone again?”

Mark’s lungs filled with air. “Even me?”

Samantha closed her eyes. He did not need to spell it out loud for her to understand what he meant. “I just need a little more time, Mark.”

Indeed, he never expected to hear anything different, it still did not mean it hurt less. On the one hand, because Samantha still didn’t see him fit to be trustworthy, and on the other hand because he seemingly was giving more than she was ready to receive.

“Should I keep my distance then?” his voice was flat, too much so that he must have given away he was disappointed, because Samantha tightened their holding hands.

“No.” She answered timidly, looking up at him for the first time in a long while. Mark’s eyes were diverted to the emerging summer night. He was slipping away through her fingers, once more.

“I don’t know if I can give you both ways.” Not when I know I'll never treat you the way he did.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[mykoreanlove]

Things that made him run from you

[part 1]

“Wait, what? You guys broke up?!”

Jinyoung stared at his feet, slightly annoyed by his senior’s questions about you. Because it was true – you guys had broken up. Or rather, Jinyoung broke it off with you to be precise.

“Do you wanna tell me or should I squeeze it out of you?” He let out a long sigh before spilling the tea.

“Is y/n beautiful? Absolutely. Is she smart and funny? Hell, yes. I had the best conversations with her, and you know how we virgos are. Was the sex mind-blowing? You bet. But-”, he paused for a second, thinking cautiously about his next words.

“But what?”

Jinyoung glared viciously at his friend for rushing him. “But her vibe was off. I don’t know how to explain it, but her energy was kind of icky.”

He was met by wide eyes that didn’t comprehend the depth of his words. “You are telling me that you broke it off with y/n, a girl that sounds perfect on paper, because her vibe was off?!” Given the tone of his friend’s question it was evident that Jinyoung had to go into more detail.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I just got the feeling that she was not ready for this. For me… or us.” A pained look formed on his handsome face. Truth is, Jinyoung did not want to break up with you but sadly you left him no choice.

“Not ready how?”

It was hard to find the right words, but he tried, nonetheless. “Have you ever been with a girl that doesn’t feel complete on her own? It’s funny because when you meet her for the first time you are totally oblivious, captivated by the mask she put on for you. And only with time you start to see the cracks in it. I started to realize that y/n did not have the right mindset for a relationship. She always relied on me to make her happy, you know? It’s like she couldn’t exist on her own.”

“Wait a moment – what do you mean she couldn’t exist on her own? Didn’t she have a job and friends and stuff like that?” Jinyoung smiled sadly. “Of course, she had all those things. But deep inside? Hollowness. She was constantly fixated on what I was doing and how I could help her to be happy. Her day and emotions were totally owned by me. It got exhausting real quick.”

Absurdly, Jinyoung used to be like you. He had those same dependency tendencies but worked a lot to transform them. He put a lot of effort into becoming independent and self-sufficient, so he had absolutely no interest in someone that wasn’t. But he was still crushed that you turned out to be that way.

“I don’t get it. Aren’t you supposed to make her happy? Aren’t you her boyfriend after all?”

Funny how elder people were supposed to be the wiser ones. “Is that your definition of a relationship, hyung? Because it isn’t mine.”

What Jinyoung wanted was to be with someone that was his equal. He wanted a woman by his side who was happy on her own. A woman with a life of her own, someone with passions and dreams. He wanted someone being so full of love already that it was only logical to share it with someone else, someone like him. He wanted someone being rooted in abundance, rather than lack.

Did he want to share that love? Yes. Did he want to make you happy? Absolutely. But he couldn’t fulfill all your needs, he could only add to those. He realized that you were a hungry ghost, leeching for his love. No matter what he did, you needed more and more and more. Catching up quickly, it made him feel used.

“I want to be with someone that loves me for me and not for what I can do for them. Why did y/n need my love so badly? Why did she jump at my every command and left everything to be with me? Why was she so desperate for the smallest act of affection? Because she had no love on her own, not even for herself. How can you love someone if you don’t even love yourself?”

He was met by compassionate eyes. “I am sorry, Jinyoung. I can now see why you turned your back on her. Still, it must suck though. Are you going to be okay?”

Oh, he would. He would process his feelings like he always did. He would get over you and find someone new. Jinyoung wasn’t concerned with his well-being at all.

He was rather concerned with yours. Would you be okay? Would you understand that you were whole and complete on your own? Would you find the happiness and love that you searched for within you? He really did hope so.

Because a part of him didn’t want to give you up. A small part was hoping that you would get your shit together, so that the two of you could re-do this. He was not ready to give you up, just yet. Thinking of that possibility filled his heart with joy, so he smiled at his friend: “We’re gonna be okay.”

[part 2]