write-it-good-imagines

[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

[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.

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[write-it-good-imagines]

[write-it-good-imagines]

little good thoughts go a long way <3

Here’s some good and easy comment ideas for those who feel shy or don’t know what to say but would like to leave something:

1. A classic: keyboard smash such as

Nrbdbsbbkigq or fhbdboejwbakwjev

2. THEM <3

(Fill in pronouns as needed or refer to a pairing)

3. Screaming, crying, throwing up, ect

Or it’s cousin:

4. Kicking my feet, giggling

5. [Block of copy-pasted text] I like/love this bit in particular; I like how you phrased this

6. I keep rotating [character/section of text] in my head

7. I read this while [insert what you were doing; ie: procrastinating a test, waiting for the bus, ect]

8. Extra Kudos!

9. Encore! Bravo! Magnificent!

10. [character name] my beloved

11. I relate to this so hard

Optional, include [line of text] or situation you relate to

12. Thank you for sharing!

13. 💖💖💖

14. I love how you’ve written [x character trait]

15. I love this kind of AU so much!!

16. I’m so excited to see what happens next! I hope [random story prediction here]

17. I will commit atrocities for this character!

18. This is some hella good soup!

19. This is my favorite [trope, paring, au]!

20. AAAAAA They are so [soft/traumatized/attractive]!!!

Feel free to mix and match these for an extra special comment!

Additionally, if you have some favorite go-to comments, feel free to share!

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Four

~5k words; hi everyone! I am so happy to see this story is still growing wings after so much time, and that you still take some time to read it. Thank you for that! In exchange, I'll give you some crazy action. Enjoy~

I’ve learnt my lesson now… I shouldn’t have had sex with you because I knew, I knew that I’d fall in love with you. You are the person someone would be lucky to be in love with.

“So? What are you guys doing tonight? I’m sure there must be something!”

Leena’s cheerful demeanor put a smile on the barista’s face as well. Not intentionally trying, but she attracted everyone to herself like a magnet.

“Ah, I don’t know. We didn’t plan anything, I mean I am at my cousin’s club tonight,” said Samantha, dipping her head in a silent thank you for her double cappuccino. The little coffee spot by the hospital was just perfect to savor an early august morning, on a Friday that started slower and lazier than all other days.

Leena was not pleased with Samantha’s answer. “Really? Did not plan anything? You tell me, for once in forever, you open your soul up to a guy, after which you two talk non-stop, like a married couple, only to tell me you are taking a shift at the club the day he’s coming back?”

“Well, we don’t talk non-stop, I mean he’s got shows to do and I am taking consults—”

“Outrageous.” Concluded Leena and seated herself at a secluded table. Samantha followed soon enough. “It is exactly because you are taking consults again that I can’t comprehend why you’re running away from him. For God’s sake, you had a surgery.”

Samantha’s eyes fell to the milky foam of her coffee cup. “I had a surgery.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

The woman nodded her head. “Like it was the first time. Thrilling, exciting. But knowing exactly what to do.”

“Just allow yourself to love the guy.”

Samantha scoffed as if Leena had just told her she won the lottery. Highly unlikely, but a possibility even so. “Oh please, I don’t love Mark.”

Leena arched her eyebrows and took a sip of her espresso. “No shit you don’t.”

“No, really. You don’t love a guy who goes up on a stage every night to rip his shirt off and has thousands of girls lining up to get a piece.”

“And does he?” Leena inched closer to Samantha. “Give a piece? Do tell.”

“Well,” Samantha crossed her arms over her chest.  ”Says he doesn’t.”

“Yeah, cause when you assumed he was out whoring he was sleeping.”

“He was sleeping. I think I know a thing of two about him sleeping.”

Leena urged the other to go on. “What else? Ripping his shirt off on the stage you mentioned.”

“Aren’t these kind of guys players? If I look up a photo of last night’s concert, I’ll bet my entire salary that I find one with those tattooed abs of his shoved in my face.” Samantha said, and Leena could not detect even an ounce of regret or sadness in her voice. More like intrigued jealousy.

“You asked him to be your fuck buddy,” with the hand holding the cap, Leena extended an index to point to the other. “Don’t call him a player. Because he was anything but.”

Just as Samantha was opening her mouth to protest, the screen of her phone lit up with a couple of messages. Her actions were stopped to scan the texts with her eyes and a smile tugged at her lips.

“Mhm,” Leena said, tilting her head towards the direction of the phone. “What did he say?”

“Ah, that he’s preparing to go to the airport.”

“The exact words?”

She knew she did not have any chance to escape Leena at that point. “Quote: good morning beautiful. I hope you have an amazing day today. We’re gathering our stuff to fly out. Can’t wait to see you again. End of quotation.”

“Such a player, no?” Leena mocked surprise then laughed at Samantha, who had nothing to contest about what her friend outlined so harshly. In the days following their late-night conversation when Mark was in New Delhi, they kept closely in touch, each texting one another when they found a moment of quiet in their busy schedules. Their discussions did not delve into much depth but were more like quick check-ups to strengthen the connection. Samantha would tell Mark about her days and her patients, and he would ask questions to clarify topics, or would give compliments to praise her work. Mark in turn would talk about the concerts, and the cities he’d fly to, and it took Samantha’s breath away every time he’d say he would take her with him to see what he saw.

Samantha grabbed the phone from the table surface to text Mark back. “What am I even doing, Leena?”

[To: Mark] good morning to you too, Mark 😊

[To: Mark] always aiming to put a smile on my face huh?

[To: Mark] safe travels!! I missed you too

[To: Mark] having a shift at the club tonight, meet me there? I’ll talk to my cousin to leave earlier

“What you are doing,” Leena started, twirling the cup around to play with the dark brown liquid “is not acknowledging your feelings. I can understand you’re still scarred because of Henry but Mark is not him. And I think he’ll help you heal.”

A short ding came from Samantha’s phone almost instantly.

[From: Mark] took you long enough to tell me you missed me

[From: Mark] thanks, flights back home are always tougher

[From: Mark] I’ll be there. there’s a cool skate rink nearby that’s open till late

[From: Mark] if you wanna go, ofc

A sigh escaped Samantha’s lips as her eyes scanned the mobile screen. “I know,” Samantha lifted the phone for Leena to see the texts and the other gave a small gesture, indicating she was on Mark’s side. “I guess I never allowed myself to get over Henry entirely. Not fair to Mark.”

“You said you’d talk to him, right? Besides, you’ve already fucked each other, it’s not like you don’t know intimacy.”

Both Leena and Samantha laughed. Then a lingering expression followed on Samantha’s features. “Mark said he couldn’t make love to me and leave the following day like the next guy.”

Leena’s eyes widened in clear surprise. “Mark said he’s making love to you.”

“It’s just sex, I know. That was an exaggeration.”

“Sam,” Leena adjusted the empty cup on the table and took Samantha’s hands into her own, and, albeit a dramatic gesture, she meant all the seriousness she could muster. “Talk to him. Tell him how you truly feel. He’s not seeing you as a simple fuck buddy anymore. Mark will prove this to you, most likely sooner rather than later.”

During the rest of the day, Samantha felt restless, restless with Leena’s words echoing in her mind, restless with Mark’s words flooding over, time after time. Samantha’s life was growing busier by the day, word of her returning to practice bringing more patients which required her knowledgeable care. She returned to observing surgeries, involving herself in helping whenever necessary, and taking upon other surgeries. Ultimately, she couldn’t make sense of why she allowed herself to be so consumed of Henry’s mistakes and treatment. Why she pulled away from the thing that made the most sense. It was so long ago that she couldn’t remember what prompted her to tug away. It should have been a sign to start anew.

And then life was growing busier by the day with Mark intoxicating her thoughts. A wicked game, chasing away feelings which only returned stronger, more vivid. Samantha did miss Mark, in his entirety. She missed the cozy scent of his Tom Ford cologne when he embraced her, she missed the coarse gentle tone of his voice when he made jokes, and she missed his passionate way of making love.

Samantha decided she would give Mark a chance, beyond just being her fuck buddy.

With that conviction in mind, Samantha left the hospital and rode straight home to prepare herself for the night, in both mental and physical terms. All her makeup products and brushes felt so unfamiliar she found herself wondering when the last time was when she took the time to pamper herself. She dressed herself with a burgundy low-shoulder crop top, with flowy butterfly long sleeves, and a plain black pair of jeans to hug her curves. Samantha gave her hair the freedom to bounce with the wind to complete her look. A quick text exchange with her cousin gave her the green light to leave the club as soon as Mark showed up.

At around 9:30, Samantha arrived at the club, shortly before it opened to the public. Changwook was there as well, an all hands on deck kind of night.

“Hey stranger,” Changwook lifted his head from the bar sink and was thrown off guard by Samantha’s looks. He had to clear his throat to regain his composure. “You’re beautiful.”

“Today only?” Samantha retorted and approached the bar counter, shoving a small backpack under it. She ran a strand of hair behind her ear and Changwook looked away.

“Guess I wasn’t the chosen one.” He stated and threw Samantha an apron. She looked at him with an apologetic look but couldn’t find anything right to say. “It’s cool, really, least I tried.”

“Changwook, it’s not your fault. I’m just…”

Changwook smiled and waved his hand in dismissal. “Not interested. Let’s get to business, we’re opening soon.”

As the night grew deeper, the club welcomed many eager customers to announce yet another successful night for Samantha’s cousin. From behind the bar counter, Samantha noticed a good number of celebrities intertwined in the crowd and her eyes couldn’t help but wander around in search for Mark. In the serving haste, her apron became drenched with water and alcohol, so she whispered to Changwook’s ear that she would go to the back room to get another. Mingling through the crowd, Samantha arrived quickly at the changing room and closed the door behind her. She opened her locker to grab a fresh apron and was just finishing untying the dirty one, when the door clicked open.

Samantha’s lips couldn’t contain an enthusiastic yet nervous smile. She straightened her body, fixing her hair quickly with a swift motion of the hand before turning to the direction of the sound.

She could never have been prepared for the stature towering in front of the closed door.

A white half-transparent shirt which wrapped a chiseled body, with a silver bracelet at the hand lingering in one of the fabric pockets of the trousers, in a stance Samantha knew like the back of her hand. His hair was sleeked back, only a rebel strand playing at his thick eyelashes.

“Henry.” Samantha breathed, the delight of her expression faltering all too soon. She felt her throat choking.

“It’s too bad that happiness on your face was not for me. And saddening you look so bitter instead.” Henry spoke, maintaining a velvety smile. “I’m happy to see you.”

Henry took a couple steps closer to Samantha. She kept her ground. “I’m not. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so rude.” With each step he took forward, Samantha took one back, until her back was pressed against the cold metal of the lockers. She was looking at him sharply in the eye. “It’s been almost two years, I missed you.”

Samantha pushed a hand to his chest to warn him not to get any closer. Henry complied, keeping at a distance that was still not comfortable for her. “Don’t get any closer. Don’t give me the speech on how you missed me after you humiliated me in front of the entire hospital. I want you to leave.”

It took every ounce of Samantha’s strength an effort to confront Henry at a time like that. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking people by surprise at the wrong moments. The first time in a long while Henry was not residing in the back of her head appeared to be the magic trick to summon him into her life again. When he still had a lot of control over her feelings and her reactions.

Henry drew in closer, his tall stature hovering over her. He kept carrying the same smile, trying to ease the tension between them. When he raised a hand to cup Samantha’s cheek, her body quivered and froze all at once.

“But I’ve heard so many great things about you, darling. Management position, and once again operating. When we see each other tomorrow morning at the hospital, I’d really like to know why you stopped taking surgeries.”

There was not enough time for Samantha to process Henry’s words because the door clicked open to interrupt the scene.

There he was, the reason for Samantha’s happiness, even more handsome with a brown short-sleeved shirt and straight grey trousers, which indicated he took the effort to care for his looks. In his hand, he held a breathtaking bouquet arrangement with delicate snapdragons, elegant red roses, fragrant dianthus, and vibrant alstroemeria. A bouquet of a Parisian romance.

There was Mark, with a smile that lit up Samantha’s whole world, now evaporated into oblivion. At a closer look, you could still distinguish a faint trace of a smile, probably in excitement to see you again. Samantha would never come to know whether that was true. The thing she would know and would remember was Mark’s sadness unskillfully hidden behind a bleak smile.

Mark was not supposed to see that. Had the Universe been kind for once, he should have never seen what he just had. Panic was outlined all over Samantha’s features as soon as her eyes locked with Mark’s desolated ones. With the way he carried himself, even more masculine and so sure of himself, Henry would never guess Mark took a hefty blow.

“Thanks for the chat.” He stated simply and threw a brief look in Henry’s direction before backing away from the room. The murmur of a phrase that became so intimate to her was now the reason the tense air of the room strangled her out.

Samantha slapped Henry’s hand away from her cheek, tears crippling at her eyes. Henry’s gaze grew curious. “So he was the one your happiness was for. Maybe I should thank him.”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” Grunted Samantha and unpeeled herself from the lockers to chase after Mark. She swam through the crowd to get to the bar counter and reached for her backpack in a hurried motion. Changwook’s attention was diverted to her, and he had to look twice when he noticed her tears in his peripheral vision.

“Samantha—”

Samantha lifted her hand in the air to keep the distance and she dashed away, reaching the outside of the club a tad too late. The only sighting of Mark was the bouquet of flowers left desolately on a nearby bench. Samantha stretched her arms to lift it from the bleak wood and a card fell to the ground. She picked it up and a tear fell on the black ink inside the ceramic envelope. Mark’s handwriting lived inside, just for her.

Would you like to be my date?

The fifth call ended to voicemail. Samantha paced back and forth in her living room, fingers covering her mouth while the other hand was clenched on the phone. The moon hung high in the sky yet the translucent gleam painting over the flowers altered them to cast a painful sadness throughout Samantha’s house. She sat down on the couch, an inhibited tiny stream of tears flowing down her cheek. Samantha paid no attention to Murphy whose paws were patting all over her legs, in an attempt to soothe her sorrow. Poor thing couldn’t know why she was so sad, and she didn’t allow him to ease her mind. Murphy settled on curling himself against her feet, waiting patiently for her to let him in.

After some time spent in silence, she chuckled. The whole situation was, in fact, hilarious. Samantha leaned her back onto the couch, eyes fixated on the nothingness of the ceiling. At one point, she thought about going to Mark’s house. The impediment was that she did not know where he lived. And another impediment would be that he made himself clear he would not be happy with her company.

It was funny how things decided to play out the way they did. The perfume of the fresh flowers made her wonder if Mark picked them by himself. Mark was supposed to find out everything, she was supposed to tell him about Henry being the reason she so adamantly pushed him away. Mark was not supposed to see Henry so close in her proximity, touching her so familiarly and playing all the right cards to have her frozen in place.

Now Mark was everywhere, a permanent resident in her mind, a permanent resident in her soul, he was everything Samantha wanted and everything that was sliding away.

The rest of the night passed at an agonizingly slow speed. Samantha spent much of it on the couch, brown orbs dashing back and forth between the flowers on the coffee table and the dark screen of her phone. She managed to doze off for a little while, still aware of her surroundings, and the only scene that replayed in her mind was the handsome image of Mark, with the spending smile on his lips and the ruffle in his hairstyle. It stopped there, and it then replayed from the top. It was like nothing else existed.

It was then she took the decision to go and visit him directly at his studio. At the crack of dawn, Samantha gently awoke Murphy from her feet and took the opportunity to grab some fresh air while walking him. By the time she realized she hadn’t taken off her make-up, she could only hope the mascara was not smeared too much. Feeling a tad more refreshed after the walk, Samantha fed her little man and reassured him, with loving snuggles and pats in his fur, that he was loved and appreciated. With a little bark he must have understood the message.

Samantha took a shower to cleanse off the events of the previous night and went to put on her office outfit for the day. Having early consultations and a surgery check-up scheduled for the second part of the day, she texted her attending that she would join them some time after the rounds. Then, she texted Leena.

[To: Leena] morning Leena, will be late today for rounds, don’t wait up

[From: Leena] oh? Mark kept you up all night?

[To: Leena] something happened last night and we couldn’t be with each other

[To: Leena] I’ll tell you when we meet

[From: Leena] ok, I’ll cover for you

[From: Leena] I’m still good to go on OBGYN.

Mark’s group’s studio was not too far away from the hospital, and Samantha parked her motorcycle outside of the tall building. The sudden visit was not planned ahead by Samantha who let her feelings take the lead. Not the one to usually lose composure, it rarely happened for her to give her heart the reins. Samantha tied her helmet to the bike and strengthened her white coat under the leather motorcycle jacket.

Inside the building, the modern lobby was guarded by three security guards, with subtle movements but ever so vigilant. They cocked their eyebrows as the clicks of her heels echoed against the black marble, her hospital badge dangling by the pocket.

Samantha approached the receptionist’s desk. “Hi, my name is Doctor Samantha Stoss, I am looking for Mark Tuan.”

“Hello. I am sorry but the group is not expecting any visitors today. Should I say you dropped by?”

At the nearby elevator, Samantha heard two other dancers discussing choreography for Mark’s group and that they’d get breakfast before joining them. Which meant that Mark was there, at that exact moment. Samantha’s heart picked up a beat in her chest.

“Yes, thank you, I’ll wait in the visitor’s area for when he’ll be available.”

Samantha was guided by security to the floor where the group was at, and was instructed to wait in the lobby area, where a couple of other people were sitting. All the other people were too busy to notice the moment she left the lobby, to walk towards the hall with the practice studios. Most of the rooms were still devoid of light, except for a singular one at the far end of the hall, where muffled laughter animated the atmosphere. The echo of her heeled steps was reverberating in her ears, enough to stifle the emotions in her chest.

The door to the studio was open and Samantha stopped in the frame.

“Mark.”

Collectively, all the sounds dissolved into thin air, and all the other members stopped dead in their various stretching positions. Mark was sitting on the floor as he tilted his head backwards to look at Samantha. It seemed that, initially, he couldn’t believe Samantha was standing in their doorframe.

“Oh, so you are Mark’s girlfriend? You are astonishing.” Bambam tweedled and Jackson had to muffle his mouth to prevent him from saying anything further, notwithstanding with his own lips parted in blatant shock. One had to give it to him, he was good at breaking a brutal silence. A couple of paces nearby, Samantha noticed Jinyoung smiling at her and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say his greeting smile was razor-sharp. All of a sudden, Samantha wondered how Mark spoke of her to the guys. If he did, at all.

“Excuse us a moment, guys.” Mark straightened his body from the floor, his eyes never leaving Samantha’s silhouette. Samantha stepped aside, allowing Mark to walk by and guide them both to an empty studio nearby. He closed the door behind them with a powerful motion, which tied a knot in Samantha’s stomach.

She was searching for any sentiment in Mark’s posture, be it anger, sadness, excitement, anything it could have been. She was met with stoicism instead.

“You didn’t return my calls.” Began Samantha. Mark simply nodded. “And you haven’t texted back, either.”

“Yeah, I didn’t. Figured you’d be busy.”

The harshness of his words made Samantha wince. “Don’t do this Mark.”

“I’m not doing anything. We’re leaving again day after tomorrow and…”

He stopped for a moment and it took her breath away. Mark’s mask was slowly starting to fade away. It was then Samantha noticed his eyes were tired. They had so few moments together and an entire night out of those was ruined, because of Henry. Because of her.

“…we’re rehearsing a new set. So, I really have just a moment. Why are you here?”  

Samantha wanted to inch closer to him, to hug him, to get lost in his presence. She refrained from doing so. “I’m here because I missed you, Mark. Because last night was a huge misunderstanding and because you didn’t allow me to explain.”

“Explain?” Mark called out in an even voice, but his hand threw the hood of his sweatshirt to rake his hair in a precipitous movement. “You told me no one touched you since I left. That you don’t think anyone will. We were supposed to go out on a date, and I come pick you up to what?”

“Mark, listen to me—”

“Sam, he touched you like he knew you inside out, like he did that a thousand times before. “

“Mark, stop—”

“I don’t know you inside out.”

Samantha’s eyes narrowed to prevent another set of tears from forming behind her eyelids. Mark’s hands dropped to his sides as he took a deep, fatigued breath. “I know I’m just the sex but at least don’t lead me on if you have no other plans for us.”

“Mark, Henry is the more I needed to tell you about!”

Samantha raised her voice, and she didn’t realize a tear escaped away from its enclosure. At its sight, Mark’s features instantly soothed. “I took the flowers home Mark, thank you for not throwing them away. They were beautiful. Yes, I want to be your date, and yes, I am sad you are leaving so soon and I’m throwing us away. I want you to understand Henry has no place in my present, or in my future.”

“Henry,” Mark started, checking his smartwatch as it vibrated, “has a place in your present if he gets to touch you and halt your every move like he seemed to do last night. I gotta go. I’ll call.”

“Will you really?” Samantha exhaled, watching Mark’s back as he turned to walk away. He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’ll call.”  

The ride back to the hospital was agonizing, even if fast. There were seeds of doubt and uneasiness planted into her mind. Part of her wanted to believe that Mark would call, and he’d grant her the chance to set the record straight, but the better part of herself pushed her to believe he would pack his bags and get out of her life. Samantha barely had time to gather herself together, just as she got ambushed right at the entrance by both Jonathan and Leena. And they were far from being happy.

“Would you care to tell us why Henry is back and why he’s so boastfully claiming to having you back?”

Jonathan’s voice woke Samantha from her trance. Without any warning, the events of the previous night stretched farther than Mark looking handsome and ready to sweep her off her feet.  

When we see each other tomorrow morning at the hospital, I’d really like to know why you stopped taking surgeries. Samantha felt like she was going to throw up.

“So, it was true.” she said quietly, arming herself with the realest impassivity she was able to forge.

“What do you mean it was true? Why is the bastard here?”

“Jonathan, I have no idea, okay?” Samantha turned to him, and Jonathan’s eyes noticed the anger blended with the heartache in her hazel irises. “He barged into the club last night, surprised me into the changing room and touched my cheek and it made my body tighten. Just as Mark opened the door and looked at me like I was the most disgusting whore on the planet. So, don’t fucking ask me.”

Leena reached to Samantha to envelop her in an embrace. “Sweetie, are you okay? Why didn’t you call me, either of us? Did you get any sleep?”

Samantha shook her head as she tightened the hug. “Not much, no. I went to see Mark this morning. Needless to say, it went badly.”

Jonathan was boiling with displeasure but if anyone saw him from outside, they’d never guess he was ire. Only by his glassy emerald eyes.

“What did he tell you, guys?”

“Certainly, didn’t speak much,” Jonathan concluded, and Leena had to slide her fingers over his knuckles to untighten his hand from the pressure. “He joined the rounds this morning, my neuro rounds. When chief asked for you, he said you’d had a rough night. Gosh, Sam, you should have called us because I was about to smash his head in, thinking he’d forced himself upon you.”

“I’m fine, Jonathan,” at least physically, she was. Mentally, Samantha was only just juggling the tumult. “Henry joined your rounds because there’s only one attending spot in neuro, we all knew.”

Samantha locked her eyes with Jonathan’s. “We’re not waging wars. I am going to walk in there, with my head held high, and I am going to confront him.”

“How can you be so calm? Why are you so calm? Henry’s got no place here, with none of us.”

In the distance, Samantha’s gaze fell upon Henry, absentmindedly flirting with a nurse, while his awareness was invested in her. If she allowed herself to give into her emotions, they would consume her entirely.

“That’s not for any of us to decide. It’s for you to decide if you’re better than him as attending.”

Jonathan couldn’t believe his ears. He was watching Samantha as she walked into the building, in a straight path to the devil. Within himself, he acknowledged she was not in the same spot Henry left her, two years ago. Jonathan was afraid that one wrong move would make her crumble.

“Good morning to you, my fair lady.” Henry shifted his position on the elbow leaning against the nurse’s station, to face Samantha with an inviting smirk. “Can I interest you with a coffee?”

“Doctor Carter,” Samantha acknowledged him, waiting for her charts to be delivered to the nurse’s station. Henry allowed his gaze to observe Samantha’s leather motorcycle jacket, over a tight crayon olive dress, and her doctor’s coat matching the white stilettos on her feet. Samantha was very aware of his charade. It was the same he used to win her from Jonathan, years ago. “No thank you, I’m drinking tea now.”

Henry chuckled, clasping his hands together. “Are you comfortable riding the bike on those gorgeous heels? Jimmy Choos?”

“Look, doctor Carter,” Samantha took the charts from the station, a silent smile directed to the nurse. At that point, not only did she realize she could not compare with Samantha, but she couldn’t keep up with Henry. “Let me set things straight. One, stop claiming me as if I’m some object. Two, I prefer not to intersect paths with you.”

“Oh? So why did you ditch lovely doctor Williams there to talk to me?”

At any given point, Samantha would have succumbed to Henry’s charms. But she took a good look at him, and he was not Mark, and he would never be. Henry had the element of surprise when his fingers brushed against her skin. Samantha was not completely sure her body would fight back should there be another intentional touch of his, but her mind was.

“You see, Henry,” Samantha looked up at him to counter the lingering smirk on his lips. Admittedly, Henry was surprised. “First time, it was on purpose. Second time, I want to set the record straight. Don’t touch me, ever again. I don’t know what your intentions are, but I want nothing to do with you.”

“Is that so?” Henry challenged and lowered his head to match Samantha’s gaze. She gulped, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. “Something tells me you’re not telling the truth.”

“Doctor Carter.” Jonathan’s even tone broke Henry’s stance. The latter fixed the collar of his coat.

“Doctor Williams! Let’s have a healthy competition, shall we? Rumor has it you’re racing for attending this year. And, of course,” he gestured to Samantha “you must have the support of most of the residents of this hospital.”

“What I can say to you is good luck. If you still have that nice camera, you can take a picture of me when I become attending.”

Henry laughed and waved a hand in a dismissive manner in the air, before walking away at his pager pinged. “Didn’t you choose neurosurgery just to try and steal Samantha from me? That’s a bit of wishful thinking on your side.”

Leena’s eyes widened at Henry’s claims, even more at Jonathan’s irritated lack of response. She then looked at Samantha who seemed familiar enough with the remark. Leena’s pager beeped soon after and followed in Henry’s steps, azure orbs lingering on Jonathan’s jaded ones. He was apologetic to her and the last time he saw Leena that day was bitter, with her disappointed expression.

Samantha’s phone started ringing in her pocket. She walked away towards her neo-natal ward and slid a hand to her pocket, answering before checking the number.

“Doctor Samantha Stoss, what can I help you with?”

“Didn’t know you recommended yourself like that when speaking, doctor Stoss.”

Samantha had to recompose herself, exhaling in relief. “Mark, hey. Sorry, morning was just crazy.”

Mark chuckled on the other line. “Doesn’t give you the chance to get bored. You can tell me all about your day tonight, if you wanna watch a movie at my place.”

Samantha giggled, allowing Mark to register her contentment. “Sounds… sounds very nice. Thank you, Mark.”

“Of course,” Mark’s voice adopted a sliver of a commanding tone, “I cannot guarantee we’re not going to have angsty sex before, or after. Or both.”

Samantha gasped. As much as Mark’s words provoked her womanhood, they also provoked anxiety. Anxiety that he’d end their hopes before they grew wings. “I’ll be there.”       

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[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Three

~5k words, in this chapter we see how Mark and Sam navigate being apart from one another and how rain washes over the souls. Enjoy and don't hesitate to let me know what you think about it!

Don’t you want to try it? Are you scared to start? There’s no one you’ll find that’s quite like me.

Do you wanna take my broken heart?

Fame, music, concerts, freedom, artistry. In a fruitless attempt to sum up all that being an artist meant to Mark, the ability to walk up on the stage in front of as many as 60,000 people was exhilarating. It never stopped being meaningful. To inspire another person enough to have them watch and admire thyself was not only a privilege but also a responsibility.

Each concert began with the same mantra, it would be safe to assume for each of the seven members was the same. Each time they would walk on and make sure they enjoyed themselves to the maximum, as much as they made sure they would do their best. In the tumult of the shows, there was now something different.

All the love songs sounded a little different.

When the love song was hopeful, Mark performed happier. When the love song was desperate, Mark performed sadder. It all played a bigger part in the tapestry of each performance, but it would never go unnoticed by those closest to him.  With each show, the emotion grew little by little. And as much as Mark tried to dismiss it to the back of his head, it sneaked right back in when the lights turned down.

It always came back when he wanted to forget.

When the lights turned down over Jakarta, the boys were still bowing to the audience. Under the ravenous applause and the avalanche of confetti, the platform on the stage brought the boys down under the concert set. Another night ended in complete success.

Mark was the last one to dispose of his ear set. He stretched his arms above his head and felt a cramp starting to settle at his nape.

“Mark?” Jackson traced behind the group to match his pace with the other. “You good?”

“Yeah,” sighed Mark, massaging the tense muscles in his neck. “Just a little tired I guess.”

“Huh, we still have one week and a half to go, if you’re tired now... “ Jackson joked and nudged Mark with his elbow. “Getting old?”

Mark threw an arm around Jackson’s shoulder in a friendly hug. “No chance.”

“Passionate out there I’d say.” Jackson began, fidgeting. “Each concert getting only more passionate.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Aren’t we supposed to be like that?”

Silence.

“No?”

“I mean, sure.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. That’s when it hit Mark.

“Should’ve asked me to my face, Jackson.”

Jackson sighed. “I’m not good at subtleties!” He cleared his throat. “But you haven’t told us nothing in… ever since we left.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jackson.”

Jackson stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the other with a much softer expression than he would have liked.

“There really isn’t.” Mark concluded, walking ahead of Jackson. “I am the sex. She was the sex. That’s it.”

Mark grabbed a bottle of water from an adjacent table to drown out the words, and the apparent reality. Spelling out loud that they never spoke after he flied out left a burn to his throat.

A couple thousand miles away, Samantha was jerking her body to the other side of the bed. She extended her hand to grab a hold of her phone. 2:15 AM. With a light groan, she threw her feet into her bed slippers, rose from the bed, and hugged her body into her bathrobe. Murphy perked an ear up in response to the sudden movement, but he was not interested enough to follow Samantha from his nest.

Samantha opened the kitchen window to fill her lungs with a breath of fresh air. When she unlocked her phone, she realized that her latest google search was still pointing to Mark’s band’s latest concert.

Jakarta: more than 20,000 fans delirious after boyband’s successful stop.

Live pictures from the concert were quick to flood the internet. Samantha’s finger hovered over a very flattering picture of Mark, half-naked on stage, his chiseled abdomen contracting with whatever movement he was making. One arm was lifted in the air to hype the crowd, the other holding up his microphone. The tattoo reaching over his right set of ribs was vivid to the eye.

The kiss in the locker of the club flashed into Samantha’s memory.

Samantha locked her phone and slid it across the kitchen counter, leaning herself against the window frame, with one arm hugging her side. To the contrary, what should have come to mind should have been the dirtier times, all the times her fingernails drew over his tattoos, reshaping them into muscle memory.

She sighed, her eyes fixated on the shimmering full moon. If she called, would he pick up?

“Probably not. He has all those girls to keep him busy.” Samantha lied to herself, unable to resist the urge to pick up her phone. She hesitated, reading Mark’s name on the screen over and over again. Until she tapped on it.

Once, twice… “Mark?”

The call went to voicemail. Her voice deflated in disappointment.

“All those girls to keep him busy.”

The next dawn, Samantha was already ready to leave for the hospital. Sleep was light and uncertain, and she tried to mask it with concealer and foundation. In a haste to leave the house, she grabbed her motorcycle helmet, to catch a ride in hopes of easing her mind.

Sun was cracking out on the horizon, tangerine hues intertwined with tamed shades of red. Samantha took a longer route to the hospital to enjoy the scenery. Chestnuts strands tossed out of the helmet were gliding freely in the wind in an enduring antithesis with her thoughts.

‘You’re going to have to find a replacement for me.’

Unbeknownst to her, Samantha’s hand switched another gear.

‘I cannot make love to you and leave the next day like I am the worst scum to have ever walked this Earth. I am not that guy.’

The motorcycle revved once again.

‘You are irresistible, you know that?’

Samantha reached the hospital faster than she anticipated. She took off her helmet and shook her head to the sides, ruffling her long strands in the process. She locked the bike and put her helmet under her arm, a high-pitched whistle distracting her from her thoughts.

“Nice suit, cat-girl,” Jonathan smirked, locking his Yamaha super sport bike some paces away from Samantha. “We should ride out together next time.”

“I’ll think about it.” She stated simply, taking the lead towards the entrance of the hospital.

“That’s it? No smart reply, no anything? Wow, did I do anything to offend you?”

Samantha threw out a chuckle. “Not necessarily, just didn’t get that much sleep.”

Jonathan caught up with her, entering the hospital at the same time. “Oh? Mind me asking why?”

“Yes.”

“Touche. But I can take a wild guess.”

“Don’t take a wild guess.” Samantha offered a polite smile to the nurse’s station, grabbing the medical documents of a case.

“How’s Romeo doing? Wait, is that a—”

“Yes Jonathan, I’ll take a consult today.”

Jonathan put a hand over his mouth in a mocked attempt to hide his shock. “No fucking way, are you actually coming back?”

“Wait and see!” Samantha chirped, walking away to her office, the bounce in her hair leaving Jonathan with a smile imprinted on his face.

“And I told him he should have bought Rome! If he’d bought Rome, he would’ve won that trade on the airport with you, Jinyoung!”

A hearty laugh filled the room as Mark and Jinyoung entered Mark’s hotel room. The sun was well up in the blue of Jakarta sky, sending its shimmering beams across the universe. A sleepless night passed for the seven boys, fighting one another to the death to the Monopoly title. Their departure was set in a couple of hours to Kuala Lumpur that left them at liberty to let a night’s sleep go by.

“Bambam’s sweet tooth for money, what can I say.” Jinyoung threw his body on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling to revisit his winning strategy. “Truth be told, he never had a chance to win.”

“You just led him on.” Mark chuckled and walked to the bathroom. “I am going to take a shower to wash off the defeat.”

“You bet.” Jinyoung rolled over on his chest, hand reaching out for the phone in his pocket. His movement on the bed caused Mark’s phone to light up. The water in the bathroom was not running yet.

“Hey, Mark,” Jinyoung shouted for the other. “You have a missed call.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice echoed. “Text Joey and let him know I’ll call back.”

There was a delay in Jinyoung’s response. “It wasn’t Joey. It’s Samantha.”

The next thing he heard was the faltering sound of the water running in the shower. Mark stepped under the rapid droplets, closing his eyes. It had been 11 days since they’d last spoken and she only left an unpicked call behind. It was not like Mark was expectant of something else entirely to happen, but he did not know how to feel. Happy that she had reached out? Bitter that she had not tried more?

Mark slapped his hands against the cold tiles to steady himself. As vehemently as he tried to distance himself from Samantha, something tugged him closer. Mark felt like he walked one step ahead, and two steps behind. He kept reciting to himself that it was not real, the feelings he rejected to feel. He couldn’t allow himself to miss her.

Still, I miss you.

The bathroom door opened, and Mark walked into the room with a towel ruffling his damp hair.

“So?” Jinyoung spoke, thumb scrolling lazily on his Instagram. “Are you going to call her back?”

“Probably,” reacted Mark, almost choking on his own spit. Would it be pitiful to acknowledge to the other that, in fact, he was not as nonchalant as he wanted to let on? “when we leave later for the airport.”

“Huh.” Snickered Jinyoung, jolting himself to his feet. “Here I thought I’d get to hear that conversation.” He pursed his lips, tapping at his chin with an index. “Maybe some sort of a clarification for why she had not reached out until now?”

Mark rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. It wavered when Jinyoung stopped in the doorframe. “But I guess fuck buddies don’t really get such clarifications, huh?”

Two and a something hours later, the boys were prepared to leave the hotel and embark for the next stop on their tour: New Delhi. The lobby of the hotel was swarming with staff, luggage, and security, preparing for the group’s very public departure. The journey to the airport was as chaotic as ever for the boys, in a joyful and brotherly atmosphere which always eased Mark’s mind and heart. He was always beyond thankful for the company and friendship of all the boys. Each held their own piece of Mark’s.

While waiting for the private transport from the gate to their plane, Mark stepped aside from the group to make the call he owed. It should have been around 4PM in Seoul. He took an anticipative breath in his lungs and tapped on Samantha’s phone number. There shouldn’t have been a singular reason why he felt so expectant.

‘You aren’t making love to me Mark. We are having sex, it is just sex.’

“Do you really think about us like that?” he whispered under his breath, a hand reaching up to cover his face better with the mask.

Mark did not receive his chance to hear the voice of the person whom he wished to hear the answer from because the call got interrupted to voicemail. “Fuck.” The breath in his lungs rushed out, leaving blooming traces of disappointment attached to his veins. All at once, the 10-hour flight became burdensome. Mark switched his phone to airplane mode to join the boys, a wee piece of his heart shattering from the expectations that failed to come alive.

In an empty common room, Samantha was flipping through her patient’s chart, examining and re-scanning what the laboratory results and the obvious common sense were reiterating. Because of an unforeseen and tragic natural complication, her patient would have to choose to lose her pregnancy to save her life.

“How do you tell someone this?” Samantha mumbled to herself, resting her face in the warmth of her palm. She flipped the chart and sighed, closing her eyes for a loose second. She had grown too soft in the big shoes of a surgeon. But it ultimately was what made her a better surgeon.

“Hey,” Leena stopped by, in a rush to reach somewhere else entirely. “Did something happen? I was in a hurry to prepare for surgery, but I couldn’t ignore you here all sappy by yourself.”

“Yeah. This patient I saw today… I have to tell her she has to give up the baby to save her life. This is why I sometimes am at peace with my decision to step back from being a surgeon.”

“And all the other times when you are not at peace?” Leena seated herself by Samantha.

“All the other times are when I miss going in the OR. Like last time I went in with Jonathan. It was the thrill crawling back, until it made my fingers tingle.” Another sigh. “Then I try to heal and come back, and I have to tell a mother to kill her child. Is this fair?”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. But you must remember how many lives you’ve saved and how many you can save, still. Young lives, who don’t even know they are about to live.”

Samantha tilted her head to look at Leena who had a softened look on her face. “Yeah.” She concluded as Leena rose from her seat.

“I gotta go now, Sam. Think about it. We miss having you around the OR. My girl power team lost all that power.” Leena gestured dramatically with her hands. “Maybe it’s a stretch but I think Mark would say the same to you, if he were here.”

“What?” Samantha exhaled. “Why are you thinking about Mark?”

Leena perked in the distance, as she was walking away “Because you won’t!”

And true she wasn’t. Samantha leaned back down in the chair, eyes obsessed with the ceiling of the office. It pained a little, both her ego and her wishes. Reason would say he couldn’t have picked up in the middle of the night, through the thousands of little things he had to attend to in the middle of a world tour, on top of probably the fatigue kicking in. Against reason, Samantha would tell herself anything to keep herself from hurting. Lies were always easier. Truth was always justifiable.

Truth was, Mark was everything she didn’t picture him to be.

Samantha gathered the scattered chart off the desk and mustered her courage to fill the big shoes of the surgeon she knew herself to be. Ever since Mark stumbled in the bar that night, to curl her hair through his fingers in a cheeky endeavor to rescue her from a vulgar stranger, with the smooth smile and the glimmer in his eye, Samantha’s life felt like it finally took a seat, on a vast green plain under the night sky. When pausing for oneself started to matter.

The rest of the day felt differently after Samantha decided to take charge. She went ahead and had the talk with the family whose happy hope vanished from their fingers. Then she offered to take lead of the surgery. The way she used to carry herself was slowly returning, with all the responsibility and the dignity. It was then she realized she did miss saving lives.

“So I guess it’s time to ask again about riding together? On the bikes, of course.” Jonathan laughed at his own joke, which brought a smile to Samantha’s own lips.

“You know what?” Samantha said, turning up the engine and securing herself atop of the seat. “I’m going to say pass for tonight, but let’s do it some time. It’s just been a full day today.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jonathan said, climbing in his seat and undoing his helmet. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Samantha chuckled. “I know I don’t really take you at your word, most of the time. But I do appreciate you being in my life Jonathan.”

Jonathan threw his head away to veil his content expression. There were times like that one when Samantha wished she knew what was going on through his head. “Someone has to stick around, until prince charming rides back from his tour. Saw he got all naked and whatever up there. Not cool.”

“Mhm. Not cool for someone who asks prince charming how sex with me is.”

Jonathan almost dropped his helmet to the ground.

“Why would you ask him that?”

He raked his hair with his fingers, the previous content expression fading into a longing one. “Because it is part of why I made that bet with you when you were hopelessly drunk and so was I and I hoped we’d wake up and forget.”

It was almost puerile that they both remembered an inebriated bet to sleep with one another when they both had the desirous impulse of the body to do that on the spot. And, somehow, they did not go through with it.

“Jonathan—”

“You should have lied to me and told me you forgot. I would’ve made allowances for how your skin felt against my own. You didn’t even kiss me on the mouth you know?”

Jonathan kicked the jack of his motorcycle. “And trust me, I am actively working on giving up on you but it’s one hell of a job. So yes, that’s why I asked him how sex with you was, to get some closure. And Romeo proved to be almighty with it.” He threw one last look at the girl, and it caused Samantha’s breath to hitch in her throat. Under the alabaster streetlight, Jonathan looked so vulnerable. “Bear with me as I’m giving up on you.”

Keys rumbled against the glassy surface of the living room coffee table. The helmet bounced on the cushions of the sofa in a hasty attempt for Samantha to undress off her riding suit. Samantha plopped into the depth of the couch, skin getting goose bumps from the cold material. It was already the depth of the night when she finally managed to catch a stable breath. The roughness of the day found refuge in her nape, pressing unpleasantly in her muscles. Murphy came running towards her, jumping in an agile motion on the couch beside her. The contact of his fur against her skin eased the pressure in her body. Samantha twirled Murphy’s coat through her fingers, and the dog snuggled closer into her side. He perked up at her, always receptive of her mood.

With the other free hand, Samantha hastily searched for her mobile phone. The silence in her house echoed loudly, in sync with her accelerated thoughts. Jonathan’s confession ripped a band-aid which she did not believe she had. She felt guilty for the impulsive decisions she took a long time before, which still reflected into their present. Almost like a butterfly effect. Had she chosen Jonathan back then, would she have suffered the same heartbreak by his side? Would they have parted, or would they have thrived? Would she have avoided the public humiliation in the hospital?

Would she have met Mark?

The silvery radiance of the moon tiptoed into the living room through the crack of curtains, settling on the black screen of Samantha’s phone. It was repelled by the quick motion to turn the gadget on, an even quicker one to reach Mark’s phone number. A very late observation that he had called her back.

Would she have felt the same need to reach out to any other man, same as she did to Mark? A sliver of a breeze trembled through the thin material of the curtains, disturbing the lull of the house. In that natural equilibrium, the moonlight painted Samantha’s features in an artificial calm. Her heartbeat picked up in her chest.

Samantha drew her breath in sharply when the call connected.

“Mark? Hey, I know it must be late wherever you are, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up. How are you?”

She must have spoken fast, precipitated, in a much too evident surprise and much too little preparation for the feelings raging in her ribcage. All the stupid childish reasons of Mark being and keeping away took the reins.

“I’m sleeping, babe.”

Mark’s voice was low and coarse, at times breathy. Unbeknownst to him, Mark played with her heartstrings, with the ease with which he called her that affectionate name. He could not have meant that.

“Sure, no I’ll let you sleep, I’m sorry I disturbed you—”

“…don’t go. Missed your voice.”

Samantha took her phone away from her ear reflexively to double-check it was indeed Mark whom she was speaking to. On the other line, a faded puffing sound confirmed he was still there, as if he was adjusting his position.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… you took me by surprise.”

“Mhm. You, too.”

A gust of wind played with the calescent air in Samantha’s living room. Through Mark’s groggy voice she couldn’t tell if he was upset, sad, or even remotely happy with her for contacting him.

“Just know I’m kinda drunk, so I might say shit.” Mark snickered, which caused Samantha to emit a giggle of her own. She had a palpable reason to blame Mark’s drunkenness for her heart’s quiver. “Drank our minds off with the boys. Middle of the evening.” Another snicker.

He was devastatingly alluring.

Samantha’s voice eased to Mark’s, a lonely index tracing the naked skin of her abdomen. The moon shifted, as if following the movements of the hand in a trance. “You’re too coherent to be drunk. Any special reason for the celebration?”

“Guess we felt like. Don’t know about them but I had a reason.”

Samantha took the bait. “Oh? How so?”

A sharp breath echoed on Mark’s side of the line, closely followed by another sharp exhale. “Promise you won’t get upset with me?”

Samantha’s eyebrows rose with curiosity, yet the heart in her ribcage threatened to stop beating. “I won’t.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” But Mark stopped himself once again to prolong the anticipation Samantha prepared herself for. Maybe he would tear the scar open and confess he’d slept with others, that he went ahead and made good of their agreement, that he did not care. Or maybe that he was enough of a good guy to at least let her know he’d touched other women, that he’d heard other women scream his name in the intimacy of his sheets—

“I missed you.”

The sound of thunder reverberated in the infinity of the sky and a glim of lightning flashed in the darkness of the living room to put a halt to Samantha’s life. A strong current awoke goosebumps on Samantha’s skin, akin to Mark’s tender touch whenever he pulled her body to hide into his own.

Mark continued. “But I know you don’t miss me cause heck, you would’ve called a lot more than once, so cheers to me. You’ll say, ‘why are you an asshole cause you didn’t call either’, and you could be right.” A short pause. “I actually could be the asshole.”

What was Samantha supposed to say? How was she supposed to form coherent thoughts in her mind when Mark singlehandedly went and kicked away all rationality had to offer? In the tone of his voice, Samantha felt resentment. A resentment directed at himself for wishing he’d done better.

I should have done better, Mark.

“No, Mark, don’t say that about yourself. You could be anything but an asshole.”

I missed you too, Mark. And I didn’t want to.

“No, it’s fine. Absolutely fine. I’m just sex. You’re just sex. We’re just sex, nothing more, right?”

A sudden downpour started falling over the horizon, in a ghastly chase to envelop the night sky of Seoul. The sound of droplets played in a staccato rhythm, brushing against the tall glass windows of Samantha’s house. The restless curtains danced however the wind dictated, to cast shadows of the moon over her features, now rigid from the amalgam of emotions pirouetting through her being.

If she hadn’t met Mark, would she have wished to grant herself a second chance so easily?

Samantha rose lazily from the couch, leaving Murphy behind to meditate in his calmness. She carried herself to the windows, gripping the handle to open one of them, and ultimately seated herself on the windowpane. She extended one leg to feel the rain. “Do you hear that, Mark?” she spoke ultimately, tears gathering at her eyelids.

“Is that rain?” replied Mark, accompanied by a hissing sound. “It’s pouring in New Delhi, too.”

“It feels so cold on my skin.”

Another thunder trembled in the sky.

“I’m so jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous on what?”

“All this rain is getting to touch you and I’m not.”

Samantha brought one knee to her chest to lean her cheek against it. If it was raining in New Delhi, it meant that maybe, just maybe, her and Mark could both look at the same sky.

It took a considerable amount of effort for Mark to push himself straight outside of bed. He couldn’t remember at what time the boys got back to the hotel, at what time he fell asleep, and he couldn’t remember why he recognized Samantha’s voice without even knowing it was her who called. With each reply exchanged between them, Mark was driving back to reality, a reality where both him and Samantha were looking at the same sky.

He walked over to the window of his hotel room, peeling it open to fully pick up the song of the rain. There was a tiny table adjacent to the window where he prompted his body, head leaning against the pane, and the free arm toying with the beads rushing down from the sky.

A reality where he was catching feelings for a woman who did not feel the same.

“It feels so cold on my skin too, beautiful.”

Maybe it was because of the same sky they both were watching but it felt like Samantha was smiling. “Why would you be jealous?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? When something other than me is touching my fuck buddy.”

There was a pause on the other line. Rain was feeling tougher against Mark’s forearm.

“No one has touched me since you left, Mark. Don’t think anyone will.”

It was too good to be true. He did not believe her, could not believe her. Mark retreated his arm and raked his fingers through his hair. The coldness of summer rain made him flinch.

Mark was playing a game he knew he’d already lost.

“Do you think about us? Do you think about me, how I’m touching you?”

“Yeah, I do. I did today.”

Mark’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

“Do you like the way I’m touching you?”

Mark’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

“I do.”

“I guess you still want me to fuck you, then.”

Samantha’s lack of response gave Mark the opportunity to glue his eyes to an outward building which still kept its presence through the water veil. The buzz of the alcohol was still messing with his head, and with his emotions. He shouldn’t had gotten so attached to a game plan, he should had cared enough back in the club when Samantha stated she was not interested. There was just something about her that kept reeling him in, which only amplified with each touch they shared, doubled with each kiss, tripled with each moan she’d mewl, calling out his name.

At the end of the day, the heart wants what it wants. And the heart shuddered at the thought of her moaning any other name than his.

“Hey Sam, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be waking up in 3 hours to rehearse the setting for the concert.”

This time, it was Sam. Not ‘babe’, not ‘beautiful’, just ‘Sam’. Bleak, obscure, a name. Samantha feared a simple name that carried no meaning. It was supposed to carry a meaning.

“Are you frustrated with me, Mark?” she breathed out, the tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought.

“What? No, I’m not. I’m not. Promise.”

“How long will you be gone, still? I hope it’s not that long because I’m naked and I am sitting on the windowpane, hoping that this rain will make me recall how your hands felt against my skin, and it’s not you and I cannot recall how your hands felt against my skin, Mark.”

Clouds wrecked into one another to release a rambunctious roar.

Mark sighed, and it almost broke Samantha’s heart. Then he laughed, and suddenly, the world came alive.

“Okay, let me guide you to remember, hmm?”

“Guide me.”

“If you lay your hand to the side of your neck, cupping it, but not too tight, and a bit far back, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to hold when we hug.”

In thorough obedience, Samantha did just as Mark instructed her to. She closed her eyes, picturing Mark’s silhouette right by her side.

“Now, if you lower your hand to your side, not too low on the hip, and drum your fingers against the flesh, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to tickle you.”

The action made Samantha giggle loudly, almost the same as Mark used to. “I am ticklish there, yeah.”

Mark laughed, and Samantha couldn’t see, but he laughed heartily. “Yeah, I know. Now, if you go further and caress a trail from your lower belly all the way to your clit, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to make you pant. Right before I slide a finger inside you.”

Samantha followed Mark’s voice until her middle finger caressed over her womanhood, a loud whine erupted from the back of her throat. “Oh no, no, don’t even think about doing it. The last part is left for me to do.”

She unexpectedly stopped, Mark’s charm still working strongly. “How did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I know what your body is telling me, angel. It’s just you I need to know more about. I’ll be back in a week and a half, can you hold out for me this long? I can always talk you through it if you think you can’t.”

Samantha scoffed jokingly, draping her hand around herself instead. A week and a half felt to her like an eternity. When Mark had her wrapped around his finger like a marionette, when he knew when to go back to calling her endearingly, when he so easily confessed it was hard on him, as much as it became hard on her, the time stopped dilating as fast. Another bolt of lightning pierced the night sky, casting a porcelain light over her body.

“When you come back to me, Mark, I’ll tell you about the more you want to know.”

Next

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Two

~5k words - please, enjoy!

I see you as a stranger but it’s different… I have those marks of love, my soul is hurt. Can’t you stay closer when the lights turn down, so that you’ll feel you don’t have me?

“Then what? You just casually claimed you’re fine to be her fuck buddy?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll have sex, at the expense of her telling you more about herself?”

“…yes.”

“You’re stupid.”

Jinyoung grabbed at the bridge of his nose before dropping down on the leather chair of the practice studio.

“I’m not?” Mark said with some sort of reinforced conviction, like that was his brightest accomplishment. “It’s pretty fair, if you ask me.”

“Fair?” Jinyoung repeated, leaning forward on top of his knees. “You know absolutely nothing about this girl, for which you are developing an unrequited affection.”

“I know things.”

“Like?”

Mark opened his mouth to answer but the words ceased to exist. With Jinyoung cocking his eyebrow and a half-mockery half-pitiful expression plastered on his face, Mark realized he really did not know much.

“She’s, uhm, a manager at Seoul Medical Private practice.”

Jinyoung nodded, as if prompting Mark to continue talking.

“And a part-time bartender.”

“Mhm. I suppose that’s it.”

 “That’s it.”

A sigh escaped through Mark’s lips. “But isn’t this the whole point of casual sex? You don’t ask questions and you don’t seek answers.”

“Except you are doing both, one-sidedly.” Jinyoung rose from his seat to place a hand on Mark’s shoulder, not trying to mask the evident worry in his eyes. “You’re not that guy.”

Mark looked at the other, and ultimately away. The silence of his reflection in the studio mirror was interrupted by the other 5 members, crowding the room with their usual infectious cheerfulness. Before breaking away from Mark, Jinyoung patted him on the shoulder and pursed his lips into a small smile. “You’re not that guy”.

“Knock-knock,” Jonathan’s voice chirped before leaning his tall body against the doorframe of Samantha’s new office. “I like this room. It’s much more spacious and you finally have big windows. Think you can grow a plant in here?”

Samantha put her pen away after having signed a document. She smiled up at Jonathan. “What can I help you with, Doctor Williams?”

Jonathan took the liberty to look around the office, searching for something specific. It still was there, Samantha’s doctor coat, dropping from the hanger. “I have an interesting case, which I’ll probably definitely operate on.”

She knew where that was going. “And?”

Jonathan stopped by the hanger, tracing his fingers over the white ironed material. “And I want Doctor Stoss to scrub in with me.”

“I am not a neurosurgeon, last time I checked.”

“But you agree that you’re still a surgeon.”

Samantha looked back at the wooden surface of the desk, trying to busy herself with anything other than that discussion Jonathan knowingly started. “Then again, I was not a neurosurgeon”.

The man came over to the desk, prompting his hands on either side of it. He leaned closer to Samantha, forcing her to look up at him. “I have a 7-month-old pregnant woman with a tumor on her brain. I want the best OB-GYN resident in this hospital to scrub in with me and deliver the baby or keep the baby in safely.”

She looked away. Jonathan peeled a hand off from the desk to bring up to her chin, on a tender touch. “I will repeat that if you think you didn’t hear it clearly enough”.

“Jonathan, I’m not ready.” Samantha breathed shakily and had to close and squeeze her eyes in an attempt to keep that past incident away from surfacing violently. “I’m not ready.”

Jonathan let his hand slide further to caress the fragile skin of her cheek. “Let us help you. Let me help you. We all know that wasn’t on you.”

“What’s it to you?” Samantha opened her eyes to pierce into the other’s emerald ones. Jonathan jerked his head back in surprise, the contact between them breaking in response. The tip of his tongue wet the bottom lip and exhaled an exasperated sigh.

“It is that you chose that bastard over me. It also is that I loved you and I am beating myself up everyday you are not picking up the damn scalpel. I should have beat him much more than I did.”

“Jonathan—”

He pushed forward. “And now that you finally threw him out of your life, and a good part of your life for that matter, you keep away from me. I am still here.”

Samantha’s eyes were pacing back and forth between his features, his eyes, and his lips, as if trying to grasp the words he was speaking and put them together in such a manner that made sense. She looked at him with a look that was stuck somewhere between past and present, a look that let him know everything was a mistake. A look that also let him know there was no way to rewrite the past. And he wished he hadn’t seen that look.

“You don’t love me, Jonathan. I can’t have you trying to love two women at the same time. Not when one of them is just a ghost in your memory.”

He scoffed. Samantha did not let him speak. “You stopped loving me the moment I made my choice. And it’s okay. Because I don’t hold any grudge against you. Because you love Leena.”

Jonathan straightened his body and Samantha could not read his expression. “Let me go.”

“He killed that woman, Sam. He did. He was desperate to show off to the Chief.”

“Jonathan, I am not having this discussion—”

“You trusted him against your better judgement. You couldn’t have saved neither of them—”

“Jonathan, get out.”

The man lifted both his hands to signal he was giving up. “I can’t let you go, Sam. I just can’t. You’re losing yourself and you’re not picking up my hand. You used to take us by the hand.”

Samantha turned her chair away from Jonathan and fixated her eyes on a void point outside the window. Her brain triggered the moments she tried shoving away like skeletons in a closet. She wanted to desperately believe skeletons do not always come back.

“I assume we’re still meeting to go out tonight. We’re supposed to celebrate the new manager.”

The last thing she heard was the sound of the door slamming violently behind. Before a tear dropped loosely, Samantha thought about Mark.

In the fervent ruckus of practicing and perfecting their next concert, which was set to start in 6 days, the guys, drenched in sweat, with their ankles hurting after more than 5 continuous hours, decided to take a water break. Mark dropped to the ground, crossing his legs, and holding his body up with his arms. Before Jackson threw him a towel, Mark thought about Samantha. It had been a couple of days since they’d heard from one another.

“Hey, Mark,” Bambam chirped, a cheeky tone blatantly carrying his words “girlfriend’s calling.”

Mark’s head perked up almost instantly.

“She’s not his girlfriend.” Jinyoung breathed, pouring what was left of the water in the bottle on his head.

“I don’t think she’s not his girlfriend” Jackson joined in, throwing the shirt over his head.

“Could you stop making assumptions?” Mark jolted from his place, eager to try and put an early end to the teasing he was just about to receive. “I swear to God, if I am picking up this phone and you’ll be hovering over my shoulders, I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

Youngjae placed his hands protectively over the threatened jewels. “Don’t hit hard?”

At that point, he gave up.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” she answered on the other end of the line, with a slight delay. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you earlier.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. It’s quite actually none of my business.” Mark saw in the mirror the displeased expressions of Jackson and Jaebom, while Yugyeom and Bambam covered their mouths dramatically. ‘That’s bad’, Jackson mouthed to Jinyoung.

Against his expectations, Mark was met with silence on the other line. Suddenly, he felt awkward for the first time since meeting her. Mark never meant to sound accusative. If anything, he might have waited for her to text. “I mean, part of the deal, right?”

“…yeah.”

 “Listen, I didn’t mean that. It’s just been a very long day.” A small pause, in tune with all the other members who seemed to have drawn in their breaths for what Mark would have said next. “I can use some good company. If you want to meet up?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good to me.”

Mark was not convinced it sounded good to her. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, do you want to meet tonight?"

Another pause. “I cannot really meet tonight, I have surgery.” She heard his sharp gasp. “Not surgery on me, surgery on someone else. I’m, uh, a resident.”

“A resident? A surgical resident?” There was a collective gasp from all of the boys, accompanied by shocked faces staring at Mark in the mirror.

“You didn’t take me as the smart type, huh? I guess smart people don’t have fuck buddies after all.”

“No, that’s—”

“Listen, I have to go. For the record, I didn’t call to get you to bend me over the table. I… I wanted to see how you were doing. Bye.”

Mark did not have any chance to protest before the dial tone echoed in his ear. The phone slid away from his ear, intrigued initially, then a furrow between his eyebrows made him wonder what he did wrong for her to dismiss him like that.

“A surgical resident,” Jaebum repeated, gesturing with his hands like an orchestra conductor to calm down the overly excited group. “That’s cool.”

“Cool? That’s fucking insane. Do you think I could find an arrangement like yours?” Bambam blurted out and earned a smack on the head from the leader. Jinyoung followed Mark with his eyes. He sensed the uncertainty and the sliver of self-doubt oozing from the other. Just when he was about to say something, Jackson went over to start the music set, to rescue Mark from the dozens of questions he was about to receive, to which he held no answers. Jinyoung thanked him with a head dip.

Jonathan was cleaning his hands when the OR doors slid open. He couldn’t hide the evident shock on his face, not that it mattered. For all he knew, he wanted her to see the shock imprinted on his face.

“Don’t tell me.”

The shock deepened when he noticed she was dressed in surgical scrubs. Then a sly smirk on his face. “You look so hot dressed like this.”

Samantha kicked the water tank with her foot, choosing not to add any comment.

“I missed you.”

She gasped at the other’s confession. Her head tilted for her to look over her shoulder in the depth of his eyes. Coming to the OR was impulsive, an impulsive decision after Mark reiterated their arrangement. Samantha knew it sounded frivolous. Only then did she truly register the words Jonathan said to her. The memories, the hope, the dream. With all the disappointments they carried. Before she knew, she found herself in the OR.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I might push you against the wall and you’d lose the bet.”

“Doesn’t that make you the loser?” she retorted, a smirk stretching the corners of her lips. “I’m just observing, that’s it. There is already a GYN resident in there.”

Jonathan shook his hands lightly to dispose of the surplus of dripping water. He turned to her as he kicked the OR door open, and if Samantha did not know any better, she would say he was relieved of her presence. “Not if you kissed me first.”

Pacing was not Mark’s way of coping with things in general. For what sentiment he paced that evening, in the lobby hall of the hospital, he could not tell. No one likes hospitals in particular, but it wasn’t the hospital’s fervid smell of chlorine that provoked Mark’s pacing. It was Samantha’s sharp dismissal that stained his thoughts. And he didn’t care, or that’s what he kept trying to convince himself of. Jinyoung’s words popped in his mind yet again.

You’re not that guy.

When he braced himself to stop pacing, he approached the nurse’s station. “Hi, good evening. I am looking for Samantha…”

The awkward pause sneaked in. A woman whose last name he had no idea about, who was supposed to be his casual sex call.

“She’s a manager here at this hospital.”

“Oh, Doctor Stoss you meant. Yes, the surgery in OR 4 has just ended, she should be here any minute with Doctor Williams.”

Mark did not get enough time to thank the nurse when he got distracted by an electrifying sound he himself had caused before. His attention turned magnetically toward the source of the joyful laughter, only to be met by Doctor Jonathan Williams, with his hands in his jeans pockets. He was making Samantha laugh.

“Mark?” she turned to him in a blink, same way Jonathan turned to her.

“So you’re the Mark,” Jonathan said, faking one of his best smiles. Samantha was too taken aback to realize Jonathan was, in fact, a tad bothered by the other’s presence.

Mark quirked an eyebrow involuntarily at the other man. He was exactly as Samantha described him, tall, handsome, cocky. Trustful. And he knew about them two, which could have changed the situation. Complicate it.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here is all, Mark. I told you I had surgery.”

“Yeah, no, I heard, I wanted to make sure you were fine.” If it weren’t for his fingers numbing from his tightened grip around the Lindt chocolate box, he would have forgotten about them entirely. Mark extended his arm towards Samantha in a successful but unforeseen attempt to leave her speechless. It was Jonathan’s turn to cock an eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t have…” Samantha looked up at Jonathan. She was growing annoyed with his displeased antics. Not that Mark would know. “I am busy tonight, we’ll gather with Leena to celebrate, you know. Me.”

“Totally.” Mark nodded with a serene expression. “I will go. If we don’t see each other again before I go, it was nice enough seeing you like this, Doctor.”

There was something about his serene smile that tied a knot in Samantha’s stomach. In her imagination, Mark was not supposed to be that. He was not supposed to come looking for her, to bring her chocolate and call her endearingly on her title. He was not supposed to sketch a hue of pink across her face. Mark was supposed to sleep with her and forget about her.

“Go where? I wouldn’t say you are leaving,” Leena chimed in, allowing her curly hair to bounce freely against her short-sleeved shirt, “though we won’t force you to join us for drinks.”

“Ah, as much as I’d love to,” Mark replied, his eyes searching for Samantha once again, “I wasn’t invited. I’m not barging.”

“We’re inviting you now.” Jonathan cleared his throat and painted a puzzled expression on Samantha’s face. “You said so yourself, you would love to, would you not?”

Mark hesitated. He suddenly pondered over the fact that a fuck buddy would not meet the other’s friends.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel pressured by these two anyway.”

“No, I… I think I’d love to.”

Saturday night in a popular high-profile club in Seoul city could rival all levels of imagination. Stories that would go unknown for all eternity, on people who’d enter the club to enjoy, to fool around, to forget, on a busy dancefloor, with extravagant lights and liquor. Samantha’s cousin had one of the most sought-after clubs of the capital and on good merit. It hit Samantha that she never did face the other side of the bar counter. It had always been easier to be the one serving the poison than the one to drink it.

The reservation for Samantha’s group was made on a booth better shielded from the crowded center of the club. She waved a hand at the security guys outside and guided the four of them to their spot.

“Wow, I can’t believe I never came to this club,” said Jonathan with a newly discovered admiration for the place.

“Maybe your relationships would have been more successful.” Leena stuck his tongue out at him and the other rolled his eyes at her remark. Albeit hiding a smile behind the façade.

Mark guided Samantha to take her seat first and the latter offered a smile. She refused instead.

“I’ll go get the drinks because I am that cool and that fast. What would you like to have?”

Not long after Samantha disappeared in the nightly crowd, Mark took a seat somewhat cornered by the curious eyes of Samantha’s friends. One would say that, with all the public attention and the fame, he would get used to the squinting.

“So, you and Sam,” Jonathan begun, rolling the sleeves of his shirt as if preparing himself for some sort of a confrontation with the other man. “How’s it going?”

“Fine? I think.” He replied much less inconsistently than he would have hoped. Truth be told, he did not really know how to reply to such a question. The answer would have been straightforward for someone who sleeps with another person for fun but one does not consider verbalizing how such a relationship would ‘be’. When it is not even a relationship. “She’s amazing.”

“I bet she is.”

“Jonathan!” Leena smacked his shoulder. “Please forgive him, we have been friends since college, and he gets over-protective over her sometimes…”

Mark pondered over the girl’s words. If he would not want to be involved with Samantha, he wouldn’t mind about their arrangement. “It’s totally fine. I am a stranger who sleeps with your friend. Nothing more.”

The conversation was cut short by Samantha returning with the tray of drinks. After serving everyone, more out of habit than anything else, she seated herself beside Mark. “So, what did you two press Mark about?”

Jonathan raised both his eyebrows and his glass in a swift motion, to grab a solid gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. “Nothing in particular.”

“So, a surgeon, huh?” Mark took a hold of his dark beer to mimic Jonathan’s earlier gesture. “Can you do both? Management and save lives?”

Samantha looked down at her glass to swirl the straw around. Mark was not ill intended, and she also was not prepared to reveal too much about herself. She never planned to do so anyhow.

I want you to tell me about you in exchange.

“I took a step back from surgery for a while. It became a bit overwhelming. But I did not want to leave the hospital and the community, so I applied for a more ‘business’ like job. Now I am manager.”

“Today was just her first step coming back to surgery full time.” Jonathan smiled and shot a wink to Samantha’s direction.

Leena immediately became confused. “Surgery? You went into surgery today?”

Samantha looked over at Jonathan with a piercing look. Mark figured she had not revealed that to the other woman. “Jonathan told me he had a 7-month-old pregnant woman with a brain tumor. He came to me to ask me to scrub in. I just watched the fetal monitor, that’s all. Luckily, there was no need to step in.”

“Interesting,” concluded Leena to take a sip of her Margarita. “Samantha, can we have a word?”

Samantha looked over at Mark with an apologetic look. Guilt started building up that she purposely dragged him into her personal life. Mark raised his bottle once again, with his lips pursed into a silent surrender. It was flattering, in a way, that she honored her half of their agreement. With each word sent out into the world by the three of them, Mark’s curiosity blossomed. Perhaps more eager and too easily.

“So, how’s the sex?”

Mark choked on the beer. “I’m sorry?”

“Nah, I am just curious how a stranger in a bar got in her bed.”

Ah, thought Mark. Jonathan did not know.

“I am not entitled to tell you that.”

“Heroic.”

“You actually went into surgery? And you did not think to tell me, as well?”

Samantha looked at Leena. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that mixture of hurt and betrayal on the other’s face. “It was impulsive. Johnny came to my office to tell me about his case, and then we sort of fought—”

“Why did you fight about?”

The moment Samantha put her hands on her hips, Leena knew. “Fought about you.”

“It’s not what you think—”

“He still hasn’t let go of you. Did you tell him that Mark is your fuck buddy?”

Silence. “I see. It’s not like you’re trying too hard to push him either.”

“Leena I don’t want him, I don’t love him. And he loves you. It’s quite visible with the naked eye.”

“It’s not when the moment you fuck another guy, he becomes all protective over a woman who is not even his to begin with!”

Leena stopped in her tracks, almost in disbelief that she let something out which she did not consider she would. Samantha grabbed her by the wrist to tug her through the crowd.

“What are you doing?” screamed Leena over the booming music.

“I am tired of being the middleman between you two fools. He is crushing so hard over you and as cocky and almighty you say he is, he is a coward. So, you’ll speak to him while I have sex in the back room. 30 minutes enough?”

By the time the girls returned to their booth, Leena had not been given the choice to ingest the newly divulged pieces of information. The two arrived in the evasive silence of the two men who could have prayed for a disaster to occur so that they’d escape the involuntary cage they’d been placed under.

“Leena has something to talk to you about Jonathan. So, while you two resolve your lover’s quarrel, I am going to steal Mark from this table.”

Mark extended his body upwards faster than he would have liked to and put his hands together in a silent apology. He threw one last look over his shoulder at the two surgeons and then had to concentrate on his feet to follow an apparently flustered Samantha. The woman guided the two into a room to the far back of the club.

A small room, still neatly decorated with a tall mirror, half a dozen lockers, and all the necessities an employee starting their shift would need. Samantha slammed the door behind them and locked it in an agile movement of the wrist. She prompted her body against the door to relieve a sigh.

“You know, against all odds, I like your friends.” Mark chuckled and took a couple of steps to seat himself on the closest chair. “A bit intense but they seem like genuine people.”

“You don’t say.”

The day had been full and heavy of unsettled emotions for Samantha. Rarely do plans turn out to be exactly how you imagine them. Samantha’s plan was to enjoy a managerial Saturday, having drinks and getting drunk in her favorite club, not reminiscent of the cold past but optimistic of the unexplored future. She could not find a plausible explanation of why she joined the surgery in the evening, of why she allowed Mark to enter a significant piece of her life in meeting her friends.

Only, she did know the explanation for all of the events. She joined in surgery because Jonathan was right. She allowed Mark to enter her life because he exceeded all her expectations of him, because, in a split of a moment, she acknowledged she wanted him to get to know her. To know the great OB-GYN resident that she was.

And this shattered the reality from under her feet.

He was supposed to be a tight hug that turned into sex. Nothing more.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Samantha did not realize when Mark stood up to enter her proximity. His hand found her cheek in a motion that was so natural he surprised himself of it.

She was supposed to be a tight hug that turned into sex. Nothing more.

“Yeah. I am tired of all these unrequited feelings and of all these unspoken memories and I just hope Jonathan lets me go already so he can be with Leena.”

Samantha smiled tiredly and leaned into Mark’s touch. He had a hunch that her confession held much more power than being about just her two friends. And he wanted to ask, the more he wanted to ask the more his heart picked up a beat in his chest.

“Huh, I think the only people who did not know they love each other are Jonathan and Leena.” He declared instead, locking his eyes with hers. Unbeknownst to him, his other hand gained a free will to intertwine with Samantha’s fingers. Mark wanted to stop. He wanted to stop his body from gravitating towards hers.

“Thanks for the chat,” Samantha laughed and ignored the burning in her chest and the buzzing in her head altogether. If she were drunk, she would have blamed it all on the alcohol, and she would have justified herself for the reason it was so scorching to look into Mark’s orbits.

Mark brought his head to rest against her shoulder and the sudden contact set her skin on fire. The devil on her shoulder wanted Mark to rip her shirt so he could touch her better.

“So, I promised Leena I’d get her 30 minutes to freely talk to Jonathan,” Samantha dismissed the dangerous thought to make space for dirty ones. Dirty ones that wouldn’t leave her longing in the morning. “Do you think we could give them that?”

“I…” Mark murmured and pushed himself away, his hand still protecting her cheek. “I want to kiss you, so, so bad.”

“What are you waiting for?”

I want to. And I can’t.

If I kiss you now, I am afraid I’ll fall in love with you.

Samantha untangled their fingers to reach up to his face. Tips of her fingers set ablaze.

Mark sighed and glued their foreheads together.  Their noses were brushing against one another, and Samantha could feel each inspiration Mark took into his chest. “I cannot make love to you and leave the next day like I am the worst scum to have ever walked this Earth. I am not that guy.”

Samantha was not sure she understood the breathy words gliding out of Mark’s mouth. She was dazzled by the wording he chose.

“You aren’t making love to me Mark. We are having sex, it is just sex.”

A modest scoff carried Mark’s silhouette to wrap his arms around her frame. He felt Samantha’s body rigid in his embrace. Mark couldn’t let her see the disappointment nesting in his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to believe in the disappointment nesting in his eyes. He went ahead and assumed a miscalculation. He had to set himself straight.

I guess it is just sex.

“Jonathan asked me how’s sex with you.”

Samantha’s chest deflated helplessly. The sudden hug and the hasty words made her afraid and nervous Mark would want to go on with his life, that he would put a stop to them. She did not want him to put a stop to them. “So? What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing.”

She furrowed her brows.

“But I am going to tell you how sex with you is.”

Mark pulled away from the hug to face her, resting his left hand against the door, the other prepared to do a demonstration on her body. Samantha could not tell how he was feeling, what he was thinking. He looked stoic.

“If I kiss you right here, behind the lobe of your ear,” Mark traced his index along her skin and Samantha felt like he could ignite it “you’ll gasp. Grab my hair and pull me into you.”

Mark’s words were even, collected. His eyes were glued to each piece of her body he was busy with. Reading her like an open book. “If I cup your breasts,” Mark ran the back of his finger over her clothed breast, a moan eluding from her lips “you’ll moan. Like you did just now.”

His hand travelled to her hip, tips of his fingers digging into the fabric of her trousers. She was unlucky it had such a thin texture. “If I grab you by your hips, this is the part where I usually slide myself inside you and you nip your fingers into my back. “

Mark brought his free hand to cusp her cheek and prompt her to look at him. By all means, Samantha was expecting to recognize anything comparable to lust, carnality. What she found instead was a stubborn tenderness that was a stranger to simply having sex.

I want to make love to you.

“Mark?” she whispered when he didn’t move.

“Will you be mad at me if we don’t have sex tonight, princess?” he stated, loosening his clasp on her hip, but caressing her cheek with his other thumb. “I am tired and I left Milo alone too much.”

Against her will, Samantha let out a whimper. Mark took her entire essence and played with it in his hands, reassembling it at his will in mere minutes. In such a short period, Mark took his time to memorize her characteristics, her reactions, and her feelings. Mark took his time to make an effort on how to please her. He never did what Mark did.  

I don’t want you to go, Mark.

“Sure, absolutely. I understand.” She nodded, placing her hand above his. “When are you, uhm… when are you flying out?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“When will you be back?”

Why would I want to know?

Mark chuckled and admired her for a moment. He was aware he was leaving her hot and bothered. He did not assume for a moment that she was inquiring for any other reason.

God are you beautiful.

“It’s going to be three long weeks, give or take. You’re going to have to find a replacement for me.”

I hope you don’t find a replacement for me.

Samantha giggled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

The phone in Mark’s pocket buzzed up with messages. He wanted to pull away, but Samantha kept his hand in place. “Kiss me goodbye at least?”

The night highway was chasing pointlessly after the black van, transporting Mark and his group to the airport. Mark’s eyes were aimed at the blurry lights, the hues of orange and red cutting through the depth of the sky. He pulled over the hood of his sweatshirt and checked his phone. Still devoid of any messages.

Jinyoung was chatting with the others when he noticed abruptly Mark did not join the lively discussion. He stealthily excused himself from the group, with a little help from Jackson to keep the others at bay from questioning too much.

“Hey,” Jinyoung plopped himself into the seat next to Mark. The latter snapped from the whirlwind of his thoughts.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I think you should tell me what’s up, Mark.”

Mark laughed and turned his body towards the other. “That obvious?”

“A bit.” Jinyoung agreed. “Have you heard from her yet?”

The other shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. We didn’t, you know, do anything. We just went out with her friends. Intense guys, lucky me I have a bit of training from y’all.”

“But?” Jinyoung questioned, still leaving Mark to his own pace. “She must’ve been a bit disappointed you never did anything.”

Mark tilted his head to look out the window. He wished his thoughts would blurry like the reality on the highway. “Yeah, she must’ve been.”

“And you? Were you expecting anything to happen? Did you kiss her, I don’t know, goodbye?”

Mark was a bit shocked by her request. Still, against his better judgement, he drew in closer, to seal the distance between their lips. “You are irresistible, you know that?”

Jinyoung just knew something was bothering Mark. Maybe regret, or maybe repentance.

“No, I didn’t kiss her.” Previous chapter Next chapter

[write-it-good-imagines]

the cat looking up at jackson wang it's just... beautiful

Wanted to make an edit and hang it on my wall but it seemed dramatic

[write-it-good-imagines]

ALSO, real quick this line in Nothing More: Noticing someone's need for help is a dignified act, yet sometimes pretending not to notice is just as noble. That knocked me out, friend. I had to pause and get myself t o g e t h e r after that one. The WEIGHT of that statement.

Also this AHAHA, you have no idea how big of a break I took after this, too. Mainly because it genuinely came from personal experience. I'm all about this, my friend~~ mission accomplished

[write-it-good-imagines]

So. I did stay up all night reading everything you've posted. All of it. Not just the spicy stuff. The fluffy stuff, which is 100% not my brand but I genuinely could not stop until I'd consumed it all. I just didn't want to miss a word. The sun's up so I'm gonna go to sleep now. I hope you have a really good, healthy day.

Jesus, I know I have neglected this blog for the longest time because I had 0 muse and 0 motivation to write again, yet you check it time and again and see something like this and one just MELTS?? No lie, I got so soft reading this I just ;; full disclosure, I never really considered myself to have good writing skills and now I know there are people who appreciate them and me as they are.

Thank you! It means a lot to me and perhaps I'll pick up from where I left off

[write-it-good-imagines]

not to be positive on main but sometimes things really are ok. sometimes you really will be happy and safe and warm. sometimes you really will be giggly and blushy and full of love. sometimes the night is chilly and your home is cozy and your tea is perfectly steeped and your phone lights up with a message from someone you love. sometimes life really is quite lovely.

[write-it-good-imagines]

JESUS, 200 FOLLOWERS???

how can I ever thank you for all of your support? I feel so bad for ghosting you all these days......but to see my work is still appreciated, I cannot put it into words!

Thank you so much! I am working hard to come back.

I love you❤

[write-it-good-imagines]

heyyy I just read The Masked Ghost and wow! Simply wow, I absolutely LOVED IT!! That was amazing 🤩🤩

Thank you so, so, so much! I know I have been ghosting all of you guys lately but I hit a hard block unfortunately. I am trying to get back on track and this is what I needed 😊

Thank you kindly, once again~

[write-it-good-imagines]

hii! can i request a youngjae fluff imagine with prompts 34 & 43 :))

It is done, my dear! Oooof, I loved writing it! I apologize for the delay, though.

Here it is!

[write-it-good-imagines]

Happiness and sweets - Choi Youngjae

Hello, everyone! It’s your lovely admin again. This was originally a little drabble request but I might be a bit whipped for the sunshine that Youngjae is, so I might have exploited that. 

~2.5k words, pure fluff, neighbor! Youngjae

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You couldn’t find the courage to knock on the door. It was unimaginable why. Maybe it was because you had seen the outer part of it too many times you lost count. But the inside… it still remained a mystery.

Why was it nerve-racking? Youngjae was your friend.

Ah, ‘friend’. What a grotesque word.

You had moved into the building where Choi Youngjae lived a couple of months before and a twisted sprinkle of luck made it so that your apartment was right above his. He wasn’t home all that often but whenever he was, he made sure his presence was felt. Heard.

The first few times he randomly started vocalizing in his living room pissed you off. He was a respectful neighbor; he never made any noise during the late hours of the evening, or in the rare mornings he found himself at home. But you did not have an established schedule either. You worked shifts and, although he had an angelic voice, it did meddle with your sleeping pattern.

His dog was often quieter than he was.

Your first encounter was an uncomfortable one. You were hurrying down the stairs after having slept in for your morning shift, and you were so absorbed in your discussion with your friend over the phone that you did not hear Youngjae come out of his apartment, mere moments after you had passed his door.

“Ah, I know, I know, but I couldn’t rest well last night. Just when I managed to drift to sleep, the guy that lives downstairs started singing so loud it basically blew all of my chances of a good night’s slumber. Shit, I forgot the car key upstairs.”

You genuinely felt like disappearing into nothingness when you turned and noticed him staring awkwardly at you. If it wasn’t for the embarrassment whirling in your chest, you might have realized how cute his clumsy smile was.

Youngjae bowed at ninety degrees. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ll make sure I’ll refrain from making noise, from now on. Yes. Excuse me.”

He offered you another awkward smile and hurried by you, his dog leading him out of the miserable atmosphere. All you wanted to do at that moment was die and never come back. 

Naturally, you had to repair the situation one way or another. All hopes of making a good first impression flew out the window but there were solutions to problems. You couldn’t afford to believe the third time was the charm. So you pushed it forward for a second.

The next day was clear of any schedule for you, so you decided you would try and buy your image back with a delicious strawberry pie. You woke up early, had a quick trip to the convenience store, and then started the process of baking. You had a lot of faith in your skills. Besides, no one ever refused a warm slice of pie. In your case, a whole inviting one should have done the trick. 

However, there was a slight unforeseeable circumstance in your redemptive plan. You suddenly felt less courageous at the thought that he could close the door right in your face. After all, you were kind of rude to someone you had never met before. As a consequence, you decided you’d write a little note to put next to the pie that you would leave at his door. 

All was said and done. You looked left and right a couple of times before you actually exited your apartment and dashed over to Youngjae’s floor. You took a deep breath, knocked on his door, left the pie on his doormat, then ran away. 

Six months had passed since then and, woken up by a terrible nightmare, you found yourself staring blankly at Youngjae’s door.

Frankly, you did not know who to turn to. It was rude to call your friends in the middle of the night over such a trivial matter; you did not want to disturb them. Somehow, disturbing Youngjae in the middle of the night over such a trivial matter seemed plausible enough. You got all the way there, you might as well shoot your shot. 

You cleared your throat that had become dry and brought your hand up to knock on his door. One, twice, even a third time. The seconds that passed after were tormenting. Different ideas started blooming in your mind. What if he wasn’t home? He might have been away. Or what if he was and did not want to respond? Who would want to address such an annoying neighbor—

The small creaking sound snapped you back to reality and you were met by a drowsy Youngjae who was rubbing at his eyes in hopes of erasing the sleep on his eyelashes. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

The problem was that you did know what you were doing but were too abashed to say it out loud. Your eyes fell to the giraffe pattern of your pajamas, your fingers tapping against one another. His alluring coarse voice brought a hue of pink to your cheeks.

“I, uh, see… I thought I’d, uh, come… by?”

Youngjae laughed and opened the door slightly wider so he could lean into the frame. “Come by? Did you bake something again?”

You cleared your throat again and tried straightening your silhouette. “I need a hug.”

“You come to my door and wake me up at 4 AM, to cuddle?”

His words convinced you just how purposeless your visit truly was.

“I… I’m sorry. I had a terrible nightmare and I got scared. I guess I’ll just return upstairs.”

Much to your surprise, Youngjae opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for you to follow him inside. “You should have said so from the beginning.”

You had to blink to make sure your disturbed senses were not playing pranks on you. Youngjae assured you with a soft smile that it was fine for you to come in and his dog waddled over to your feet, inspecting the impromptu guest.

“It’s not much but it’s home.”

You had wondered many times how his place would look like. You did not know what you were expecting to see, giving that he was a person who radiated sunshine as if his whole existence was a form of incandescence itself. You recognized something else, instead: an enveloping warmth. The same kind you felt whenever Youngjae smiled at you.

“The pajama is nice.” Youngjae pointed out and you chuckled at the remark.

“I bet you never pictured the fierce neighbor from upstairs to have a giraffe onesie.”

It was Youngjae’s turn to laugh. He raked through his hair. “Well, now you’re no longer my fierce neighbor from upstairs.”

“True.”

You plopped down on his couch and pulled the colorful hood over your head. Out of all the times Youngjae pictured you finally coming over to visit his apartment, that certainly was not the outcome he expected. He was reluctant to invite you over. Of course, he had tried to muster the courage to do so before but it always ended with one of his loud, awkward laughs and a wave of the hand.

He might have been pining on his neighbor but said neighbor did not have to know that.

Youngjae felt like a fool when he accidentally overheard your conversation six months ago. He heard someone moved above him and, being the excited little bean he always was, he was eager to welcome his new neighbor.

The first shocking matter was that that unknown person proved to be a stunning female. The second shocking matter was that he disturbed that stunning female with his loud voice. He could not do anything about it per se. The least he could do was refrain himself from making any noise and concoct a plan to avoid you for the rest of his living days.

Youngjae was preparing to go for a light jog when the bizarre sound of fingers knocking on his door made him rush to the entrance. He could not see anyone but a sweet smell piqued his interest. Youngjae lowered his eyes to the ground and spotted a pie laying so helpless on his doormat.

He knelt to take it and scanned the hallway to make sure it was not meant for someone else. He spotted the note to the side of the tray and closed the door with his foot, evidently busy to analyze the neat handwriting. 

I apologize for being such a rude brat. I hope you like strawberries.

Youngjae burst into hearty laughter that reverberated between the solid walls of his apartment. He quickly covered his mouth but it was not enough to shut his bubbly giggles. You did not hate him.

The next day, he met you at the convenience store in the neighborhood in a completely accidental encounter. He went out to satisfy his ramen cravings and almost bumped into you as you came out from the meat section. Youngjae had a better chance at stealing a look at you, a fact that almost rebuffed his own brain. Lucky for him, you started the conversation, inquiring about the pie.

Then you smiled and all he could do was let out a helpless laugh. 

Of course, he liked it. He complimented you on your baking skills and you complimented him on his singing. He must have looked confused, saying that he thought it impeded your resting schedule. You were so flustered by his remark that you almost dropped the bag of groceries. 

Youngjae was content to hear you genuinely liked it and you admitted to being inconsiderate. It felt reassuring in a way. Not having a logical explanation of why he was just happy you liked his voice. He laughed with you when you completed that it should not happen when you were tired.

He jokingly suggested that you should stick a note to his door whenever you requested absolute silence. Some days later, he found a sticky note patiently waiting to be picked. Another bit of laughter followed. Youngjae placed the sticky note on his fridge.

As days progressed, he unconsciously became excited about the notes. In just a couple of weeks, the fridge was decorated with a palette of colors, and so started to be his heart. Youngjae studied every letter calligraphed on the tiny papers as a means of discovery. He figured it was rude for you to carry a one-sided correspondence, so he started making little notes for your door too.

“Do you like orange juice?” Youngjae chimed from his kitchen.

“Who doesn’t like orange juice?” you retorted and watched him scoff as he came back with two glasses.

“Fine, maybe I should bring you two oranges to make your own juice.”

You muttered a small ‘thank you’ and tended to your glass. Youngjae seated himself next to you but not too close; at a friendly distance, one might say. He brought his hands together and turned to you. You looked so little and adorable in your giraffe costume that it brought a wide smile to his face. 

“What was the dream about?” 

“In my dream, someone broke into my house. Started roaming through my things as if he was looking for something. He stormed into my room and then gagged me with some sort of stinking cloth. It was terrifying.”

You shuddered at the unshakable thought that such things happened to a lot of people and you could be one of them. You put the glass down and hugged yourself. Youngjae extended a hand to caress your back and scooted closer to you.

“It’s okay now. Nothing is going to happen to you, Y/n, I promise.”

“You promise?”

Youngjae pushed the hood off your face and looked at you with the softest look he could muster. He was bewildered to see your eyes pooling with tears, scared and insecure, that he did not think twice about wrapping his whole body around you. 

Youngjae was devastated to see you like that. The only thing he pictured in his mind whenever he thought about you - which was quite often - was your dazzling smile and the sound of your laughter at each of his lame jokes. In his mind, you were made of the clumsy ‘good morning’, ‘have a good day’ thoughts that you started inserting somewhere along the line in your messages. Or the tasty products you’d always leave desolated on his doormat. The lingering chat the two of you would share whenever your paths intersected in the morning, that one that would always get the both of you late, was his favorite.

You always smelt like happiness and sweets. 

“I promise.” 

It might have not counted for much but he hoped his words would ease you just a little. He had known for some time that he nurtured an unrequited crush on you. Youngjae used to be jubilant over the little things he shared with you. He was not so sure he could keep the pretense anymore. It used to be easier when you were not enveloped in his arms.

“Sing to me, Youngjae.”

“Eh?” he exclaimed and blessed the gods you couldn’t see the blush on his face. “Sing… sing what? Why do you want me to sing?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, curling into him, “I mean not shut up. Your voice is so calm and warm, I know it will help me relax.”

Youngjae chuckled lightly and adjusted his body for you to be more comfortable. He could afford to be selfish for a bit, even if he felt like his cheeks could explode. Coco sprung on the couch next to her master and Youngjae lowered a hand to pet her. 

The sweet tones of a lullaby echoed silently in your ears, easing your tensed muscles at once. Youngjae’s voice was unique, akin to the lilac and pink sky of a spring morning when the chilly air invites you to hide in the arms of the person you love. Of course, you would never tell him that, but you could afford to enjoy the safe haven that he was for a little while.

The last thing you heard Youngjae humming before you drifted into the depths of the dreamland, although peaceful sleep had long invaded your system, so you would never be sure, was something along the lines of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’.  

[write-it-good-imagines]

Poison (M) - Park Jinyoung

So I did a little something...although you might say I am a coward for not finishing it it’s because I really am. Ugh. I just wanted to provide means of exploiting your own imagination. That cursed poison mcountdown stage ended me.

enjoy. I have nothing else to say

~2.7k words, very suggestive content

Parties organized by companies were all consisting of the same things, people traversing a mutual field from all sorts of backgrounds, looking for a stable partnership with a trusting team that was all aiming to the same goal. Drinks and sophisticated dishes were, partly, the main attraction of such events, along with the small chat one would make with the other, up to the point of discussing business.

The cosmopolitan lobby of the hotel your company chose for the aforementioned party was radiating an air of importance through the exquisite paintings hanging on the walls, and the imposing candelabra emanating a refined light. It was a crucial gathering for your company that wanted to consolidate one of their biggest projects up to date and it was compulsory for those who helped shape it to participate at that night’s party.

It was undoubtedly difficult to maintain a stoic, yet amiable face throughout the night, delivering the same polished speech to everyone who came looking for it. You indulged yourself with a martini and accompanied one of your colleagues at first, easing each other’s silent suffering. No matter how often you’d check the time on the glowing screen of your phone, your plus one simply refused to appear.

The captivating jazz tunes graced your ears with melodies, some of which you knew all too well, and you almost lost trace of the words spoken to you.

“It is, indeed, impressive that someone as young as yourself participated in such a grand project,” the older official complimented you, his wife following his example, “The business world requires fresh talents, miss. We were more than glad to accept the offer after listening to your speech during the meeting!”

You offered a polite smile, dipping your head in a bow. “I am grateful for your kind words. My seniors helped me throughout the process. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

A series of low gasps could be heard in the humming of the background and you examined the older woman’s pleased expression as she nudged her husband. “Oh dear, he is a handsome man, but I don’t think I recognize him.��� She turned to you. “Do you, miss?”

You had to turn your body towards the point of concern, given that your back was turned to him, and you had to take a moment to take a breath yourself. Despite being completely familiar with the person, his perfect appearance took you by surprise.

Park Jinyoung, your faithful plus one, was boldly dashing.

Of course, his handsome genes were flagrantly undeniable, something that you had witnessed in either plain daylight, or other suggestive environments. Even so, the black tuxedo embracing his toned body, the burning red handkerchief adorning the chest pocket, and the equally matching tie made it seem like something entirely unfamiliar to you. But exceptionally endearing.

Endearing enough that it instantly poisoned you with unspeakable thoughts.

You took a sip from your martini as you watched his agonizing slow steps through the admiring crowd. He made it look like the world suddenly gravitated around him. As dignified as you hoped you’d remain, it was impossible not to imagine how filthy Jinyoung could make you with as much as a snap of his fingers. Especially in that ethereal fitting.

When he finally reached you and your companions, he rested his hand on the small of your bare back and dipped his head to the older couple.

“My apologies, might I have interrupted something of great importance?”

Jinyoung’s polished words had a positive impact on your company’s partners, the woman instantly captured by his charms. You ran a hand through your sleek hair, styled in a poised wet look, and it tickled the bare skin of your back. The white backless dress you chose was only sustained on your body by a ribbon tied loosely around your neck that fell gracefully on either side of your spine.

No one noticed that, yet Jinyoung did not bother to hide his desirous look from you, albeit a tad irritated. You had a vague idea of why.

“Ah, we were just discussing how fortunate we are to work with miss L/n! But we were also intrigued by your charming presence, mister…?”

“Park Jinyoung, Mrs. I have heard quite a lot of good things about Y/n’s partners. She always mentions how she is the lucky one.”

The delighted smiles on their faces secured the ideal first impression anyone could make. You were impressed with his smooth words and the major positive impact they had on your relationship with the business partners. As soon as they left, you couldn’t contain a fascinated smile.

“Smooth talker Park Jinyoung at my service, huh?”

Jinyoung tilted his head to look at you, his height matching yours evenly thanks to the gladiator sandals you wore. “I had to make a good entrance.”

He captured your eyes with his and you were surprised to find the previous glint nestling in his orbs. No, he wanted to make sure you saw it and remembered it well. Jinyoung mildly brought you closer to him, his fingertips leaving blistering sensations into your skin.

“But however much I love that my girlfriend is a walking goddess, you are practically naked.”

The origin of Jinyoung’s irritation was the one you suspected. The fact that he pointed it out so blatantly left a smirk curling on your lips. You knew that if he saw you like that, you would walk straight into his stare and it was, after all, a mission you set for yourself. The two of you met after some time apart and you wanted to wear your best clothes for the occasion. Or, according to Jinyoung, wear almost none at all.

“Exaggeration,” you breathed and lifted your eyes, testing the waters. Acting professional was a protocol you were determined to follow throughout the night; that did not mean you were not as skilled as your boyfriend was with his words, “I think it is appropriate attire for the occasion. A woman has to shine whenever given the opportunity.”

Jinyoung chuckled and his gaze lingered on you for a brief moment. “You are blinding, Y/n. That does not mean I am happy with it.”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Park. Likewise, you look dashing, but may I ask why my looks bring you so much distress?”

Jinyoung leaned over, his lips whispering a subtle warning into your ear. “I don’t like it when these men are so shamelessly staring at my woman.”

He pulled back to look at you with a sheepish expression imprinted on his face and a slight shrug of his shoulders, but the effect he desired was already done. The smug look he wore after indicated the fact that he knew he succeeded. If he told you his fingers felt the shiver traversing your spine, you might have believed him. You clicked your tongue and took a sip from your cocktail.

Jinyoung teased and took the glass in his hand, unconsciously admiring the lipstick stain on the rim. “You look a little pale, Miss Y/n. Are you okay?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Park.” You saw the director of your company coming in your direction and decided to play your card, even if it meant playing with fire. “I wonder if you’re all talk. Someone who claims something like that takes responsibility.”

Jinyoung did not have time to react verbally to your offensive statement. He successfully masked the displeasure and greeted the director with an imposing stance, shaking his hand firmly. One would easily say Jinyoung was fully immersed in the formal chat carried between the three of you; however, you challenged him to assume responsibility. And he was a very competitive individual.

You felt his hand shifting slightly from your lower back, ascending to a small, sensitive spot that had you shuddering instantly. His fingers traced a dangerous trail in your skin that made it increasingly harder for you to concentrate on the discussion and divert your attention to restraining your reactions instead. It was incredible how unbothered he looked by your faithful response to his actions, and yet kept on asserting his dominance on your entire being.

“I can see how much of a support you are for her, Jinyoung,” your director said happily, clueless to the battle you were carrying within. “You two are a good match.”

You opened your mouth to reply but soon had to bite into the plush of your inner cheek to suppress an indecent sound as Jinyoung’s butterfly touch made the blood whirl in your veins and your lower abdomen bathe in a burning sensation. He caught your silent struggle with the corner of his eye and responded, offensively calm.

“Thank you, sir. She is a handful sometimes but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The director laughed heartily and extended his hand to pat Jinyoung’s shoulder. You almost burst out in sheer joy when he left and turned abruptly to Jinyoung. You found the same agonizing, innocent look on his face, but you knew better.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?”

You scoffed at his question. It took a lot of audacity to act so faultlessly.

“Oh, I do have some things to say.”

“Why won’t you let me say something first?”

Jinyoung undressed of the jacket and threw it over your shoulders. On the one hand, the public perceived his actions as a simple display of gentlemanly affection. On the other hand, his aphrodisiac eyes, the tacit greed of his gaze, and the way his hands grabbed at the collar of his jacket to imperceptibly pull you closer, those were all meant torture you.

It was inevitable you’d eventually break. Underestimating Park Jinyoung was a sin you loved committing.

“It’s such a pity you’re wearing red lipstick tonight.”

You did not mind giving in, you never did when it came to him. Jinyoung learned all there was to know about you by heart, so much that he was able to incite every desire you nurtured with his words alone. He took great pride in the capacity to understand and satisfy you. There was no one else who could ignite your skin without actively doing so. There was no one else who could brutally thrash your insides and rearrange them so they would fit their own puzzle.

All without any single touch to your skin.

Your hand grabbed his tie, your eyes glowing a wicked appetite for him. You missed him, and hearing his tantalizing words only emphasized the desperate urgency to have him. “I need you.”

Hurried moments later, you were caged between the elevator wall and Jinyoung’s robust body, one of his hands gripping underneath your thigh, the other pressed into your lower back. The immoral intensity of his eyes stripped you naked with a gaze that betrayed that delicious imagination of his going astray. Jinyoung was inhumanely close that you did not know whose air you were breathing.

Jinyoung’s coarse voice was pure music to your ears. “I have been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Did you miss me?” you sighed and his hand guided your leg around his waist as he inched closer.

“Let me show you how much.”

His lips sealed against yours in an erotic kiss that pulsed into your stomach. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing your lower body into his pelvis. Fingertips were etching small circles into your back, reviving the sensation you previously tried to repress, now forcing a gasp to come out from your throat.

Jinyoung did not allow you to breathe, for he slid his profane tongue in your mouth to engage yours mercilessly in a filthy dance. You were kissing him so desperately that your whole body was curved into his. Jinyoung sucked every last molecule of air out of your system through his kiss, thus leaving you helpless and weak. He only detached himself from you when he felt the fingers tangled in his locks weakening their grip.

You drew a breath in sharply, feeling lightheaded and much paler underneath the make-up. Jinyoung pressed his forehead to yours apologetically. “How much time do we have before they need you back in the lobby?”

“I…I think probably half an hour… forty minutes.” You murmured among the heavy gasps in the failed attempt to even the rhythm of your breathing. Jinyoung’s aura was getting poisonous, leaving no possible window for escape. Your mission was to get drunk on it.

“Then that’s more than enough time.”

The elevator signaled the arrival at the highest floor of the hotel and Jinyoung took your hand in his to drag you out, laughing mischievously under his breath. You followed his adamant steps to the empty terrace spreading into the vast night, in the shelter of the stars. His jacket fell helplessly somewhere on the concrete after having fulfilled its role to shield you from the savage stares of other men.

“What are you laughing at?” you questioned as Jinyoung turned his body, a couple of steps apart from you.

“Your lipstick is smeared all over your face!”

You could not find it in you to tell him that his own lips were colored with the same shade of red, ruined by the eager assault launched on you. He probably knew that anyway and found a sadistic pleasure in pointing out he would ruin you indisputably.

“Whose fault do you think that is?”

Your steps carried you to the high railing where Jinyoung was patiently waiting for you. He admired the sloppy work of art that you were, the smirk imprinted on his visage awoke a carnal appetite in your ribcage. You were anxious to experience the unholy plans he had for you.

He cupped your face with both hands and crashed his lips against yours once again, guiding your body against the cold metal in a swift motion. The sudden icy contact extracted a loud moan from your lungs and Jinyoung momentarily pulled away to marvel at the divine creature in front of him.

“Let’s make sure we remember whose fault it is.”

The split second he paused to look at you also offered you precious insights into his blazing emotions. It gave you all the assurance you needed and more. You bit your lip at his words, a familiar tingle throbbing in your core. He got you burning with anticipation.

Jinyoung loosened his tie before launching himself into your neck. His tongue traced a stubborn vein piercing your skin and encircled a sensitive spot under your ear lobe. Your hand flew instantly to his hair and your head thrashed back, accompanied by a strong moan slashing through the air. You felt Jinyoung smirk against sensitive skin, hot breath electrifying your senses.

“I wonder if I can make you moan so loud all the others down there would hear you.”

Jinyoung untangled your hand from his hair and pulled them together behind your back to obstruct any further motion you might want to pursue. His teeth grazed your ear, chewing on the softness of the lobe. He let out a carnal whisper in your ear, warning you that he would have his way regardless of your preferences. “Should I?”

He guided your chin down with his free hand, the index tracing your jaw at a delayed pace. There was no use denying him anymore; he knew he was in complete control and he knew how hungry you were for his touch. You had a love-hate relationship with that side of Jinyoung’s because he never did anything on his own volition.

No matter how much he desired you, beating around the bush was something he did not like.

“Fucking devour me, Park Jinyoung.” You let out a sultry moan, instructing him on everything he needed to hear.

Jinyoung bit his lower lip, maintain eye contact with you as he lowered his body. “Watch me, princess.”

He tossed the unnecessary material of your dress to the side and ran a hand down your thigh to guide your leg over his shoulder. His eyes followed you closely as he pressed an airy kiss to your clothed womanhood. The last thing you could see was his starved expression; the moment his tongue invaded your privacy, all hopes of staying sane vanished in the passionate night.

[write-it-good-imagines]

hi again you don’t have to respond to this but i looooved your take on my request 💖💖 just when i had gotten over it i saw the co-evaluation results and someone took points off my grade in “demonstrated supportive attitude”. are you kidding??? but the teacher didn’t take that into account anyway 🤷🏻‍♀️. but seriously thank you so muchhhh for your writing and keeping up with my rants hahaha

That's why I am here honey! I am so happy you liked it and even happier that you got over it in the end. *wraps arms around you* ADMIN HUG!!