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hoseoksluna · 3 days

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LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door.

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often.

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you.

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality.

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run.

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty.

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok.

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay.

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff.

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship.

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it.

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile.

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it.

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together.

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested.

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion.

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours.

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water.

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you.

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last.

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.”

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of.

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.”

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you.

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common.

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you.

And it no longer shall.

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life.

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.”

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps.

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch.

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself.

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up.

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service.

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you.

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take.

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore.

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening.

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were.

And the process soaks your panties.

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore.

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches.

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age.

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you.

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea.

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste.

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him.

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex.

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you.

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.”

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about.

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body.

And you might as well give him what he asks of you.

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them.

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours.

He didn’t expect that.

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly.

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.”

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you.

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable.

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet.

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over.

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better.

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him.

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now.

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back.

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you.

And you let his following question consume you just as much.

“Were you in love with him?”

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out.

No need for long nights of overthinking.

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?”

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst.

“What’s it to me?”

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers.

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him.

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face.

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore.

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin?

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation.

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?”

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it.

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.”

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.”

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about.

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back.

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?”

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?”

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will.

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.”

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead?

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment.

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick.

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer.

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.”

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.”

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety.

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release.

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.”

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.”

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak.

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.”

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt.

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at.

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water.

And you do.

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out.

“Did you cry for him?”

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?”

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.”

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.”

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his.

The life in you throbs.

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that.

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.”

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again.

“Touch it, please.”

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged.

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain.

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing.

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him.

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.”

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants.

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with.

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally.

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.”

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume.

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit.

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body.

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it.

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away.

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.”

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out.

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him.

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once.

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.”

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity.

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?”

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off.

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth.

Your poor heart skips a beat.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?”

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you.

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils.

“That’s so hot.”

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.”

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his.

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too.

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle.

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.”

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon.

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty.

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.”

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.”

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.”

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it.

“I want that so bad.”

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.”

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him.

“I didn’t bring any condoms.”

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.”

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing.

“I’ll give you a big load.”

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face.

“Good girl. Such good manners.”

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime.

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.”

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity.

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin.

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you.

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.”

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.”

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish.

“Say that again.”

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.”

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one.

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out.

But only one thing is clear.

“I’m yours.”

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp.

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg.

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.”

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines.

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him.

Blood-hot.

And you feel as though you deserved every drop.

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see.

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning.

They cease to exist.

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?”

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him.

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head.

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.”

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again.

Again and again.

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb.

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world.

Hoseok is that life.

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

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malarkgirlypop · 3 days

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MEDIC! Part 41 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

It's been a year since I started this story. I posted last year on my birthday and I do the same again today. I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me while I write this, all your love and support is greatly appreciated, I love you all so much. So here's a birthday present from me. Thank you all again!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut, @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92, @lucyfromtheoldhouse, @blueberry-ovaries, @next-autopsy, @saintmalosunsets, @anaso12 anyone else please let me know.

I rubbed my eyes, blinking hard and then staring at the shimmer that mocked me. After everything that had happened, now it was back.

It glimmered in the sunlight. The oil slick transparent film didn’t move as I approached it. It was just as I had remembered. I stopped a metre away, too scared I would be sucked in if I walked any closer. The whole time my heart never stilled, it thumped in my ears as I glared at the film.

“Really you’re back after all this time?” I chastised the insentient object.

“Fuck you!” I screamed, I was far enough away from the base that no one would hear me. I picked up handfuls of stones and hurled them at the shimmer.

“Why did you do this to me? I didn’t ask for this!” My voice cracked as I yelled.

“I never asked for any of this! You brought me here, why are you back?” Tears slipped down my cheeks.

I didn’t know what I expected, that someone would magically pop out from inside the portal and explain to me why on earth it was me that was taken. That they would say it’s fine if you want to stay, this is just an offer, or, if you do not come back through the shimmer life as you know it would cease to exist.

But no, no one was here to answer my question. It was only the shimmer that sat perfectly still as I screamed at it, as I launched stones and debris its way. It didn’t cry out and ask me to stop, only mocked me with its silence.

“I hate you!” I screamed before I turned on my heel and sprinted away from the provoking portal.

—------------------------------

I sat on the floor packing and unpacking my bag for hours. Each time I packed the bag an overwhelming panic took hold of my chest and only eased when I took everything out of my medic bag.

“What are you doing?” I heard from behind me. I swivelled around in panic.

Don stood in the entrance, his brows knitted together in concern.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Long enough to know you’re leaving. Why?” He started forward to where I sat criss-cross on the floor.

“Where are you going?” Don demanded when I didn’t answer.

“It’s back.” I uttered, not knowing what else to say.

“What’s back?” He stood looking down at me.

“The shimmer.” My voice was so quiet as I told him the truth. I watched his face fall and then his eyes flicked over my belongings that were scattered in front of me.

“You’re leaving.” It was a realisation that fell from his lips. “You can’t!”

“Don please don’t make this harder than it already is.” I begged, feeling tears spring to my eyes. It was hard enough to make this decision myself but for Don to beg me to stay was going to make it impossible.

“Why are you leaving?” Don genuinely asked.

“Because I have to!”

“Said who? The shimmer police?” His tone was serious.

“No. But why would it show up again if I was supposed to stay?” I was out of answers for him, I was just as confused as him about this. My heart was torn, I wanted to stay but I didn’t know the cost of that decision.

“What if I don’t leave and then everyone dies ‘cause I fucked it all up?” I let him into the thoughts that had been racing through my mind even before the shimmer had shown up again.

“If I stay and the world falls apart because of me and people die. I could never forgive myself.” I didn’t need to be the cause of anymore death, and if that meant giving up the one thing that made me happy then it was a sacrifice I would have to make.

“You know what I would do?” He asked joining me on the floor and taking my hands in his. “I would say fuck everyone else and choose you.”

“That’s easy for you to say you're not the one with this decision. I can’t say fuck everyone, that’s not me!” Don nodded he knew it wasn’t in my nature to put myself first.

“Why are you making this decision based on other people?” Don’s thumb rubbed absentmindedly over the back of my hand.

“Are you running because of what happened?” His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

I shook my head, my mouth twisting at the thought of what had happened only last night. The scars were still fresh, literally.

“No, I am doing what’s right, and that means I can’t stay, even though I want to!” I was already at my wits end without the appearance of the shimmer. Tears fell down my cheeks.

“Be selfish, for once in your life Em! Choose you!” Don pleaded, his hands tightly wrapped around mine as if I would disappear in a blink of an eye.

“I can’t!” I yelled, rising to my feet and pacing back and forward across the small room.

But Don continued, standing up as well to grab me as I passed by him. His hands firmly gripped on my shoulders. Don shook me as he spoke, as if trying to shake his words into me.

“Because other people would choose themselves, in your position they would choose to stay, not because of the greater good, but because they wanted to.” He was right, a lot of people would choose the outcome that would better accommodate them. But when have I ever put myself first?

“You deserve to be happy.” I wanted to be happy, after everything I had been through in life all I wished for was to be happy.

“I can’t be the cause of other people’s deaths.” I couldn’t have that weight on my shoulders, I couldn’t live my life knowing other people suffered for me. It just didn’t seem fair.

“Fuck everyone else Em. If you staying meant the world was going to end tomorrow, you know what I would choose, you I would choose you, because I love you.”

“That’s not fair Don!”

“I would die for you. I would choose my demise to spend one more day with you.” I choked back my sobs.

“So I would die for you, but you wouldn't die for me?” Don questioned. I understood why he was wandering. From his point of view I seemed to care about everyone else more than him.

“No, I am. If I go, I’m dying. I don’t think I could ever be happy again. But if that meant that you got to have a long and prosperous life, then I would die a million times over for you. And going home and living my life will be that.”

“Then live for me!” Don bargained. “What are you going back to there anyway, you have a family here!”

“Doesn’t mean I belong.”

“Emily, ever since you have arrived all you have done is belong. You fit right in, you were meant to be here. The shimmer brought you here for a reason, fate itself!” Don was right I may have been brought back to this time for a reason, but then it could've been random all the same.

“But what if it was only for a moment, only for a short while. What if I stay and everything falls apart because of me?” The lingering doom haunted me.

“There are so many what ifs, but what ifs don't answer your question. Where would you rather be?” Don gazed down at me with his intense brown eyes.

“Don’t make me answer Don, this is already so hard.” I hiccuped, I shook my head as I pushed away from him, turning my back on the man I loved.

“Which would you pick if there were no consequences?” His voice strained as emotions flooded through his soft tone.

“Here.” I whispered, still not facing him.

“So stay, there are no consequences, you can’t think of the what ifs that will only haunt you. If you go back and regret your decision, don’t you think that will tear you apart?” Don rounded me so he stood in front of me again, his hand finding the underside of my chin and tilting it up to look into his eyes. They shimmered with unshed tears.

“Yeah but what if I stay and the world ends and everyone I love dies! That would be even worse.” I emphasised my point over and over again, but still he fought against me.

“It wouldn’t matter if we were together!”

It would be an agree to disagree.

“I hate to break it to you Em, but everyone you love will die eventually. You can either be here for it or not.”

“The difference is I don’t want to be the cause.” I stood my ground. I would not be the reason for the world turning to fire and ash.

“I can’t face that. It will fucking kill me.” I would become a shell of myself if that was to happen. There would be no one for him to love anyway.

“So I can’t talk you out of it? After all this time you are going to choose everyone else over me?” Don’s hurt radiated down his body, his hand fell away from my face as he took a step back.

“Please Don don’t say it like that.” I begged stepping forward into his space but he kept his distance.

“It’s fine you have made your decision, I clearly can’t stop you. Even though I hate you right now, just know that I love you and I hope that haunts you till the day you die!” Don’s bitter tone was harsh as he stomped out of the room.

“Don!” I called after him as I chased him down. “I can’t leave with you hating me. If you love me you will let me go. You will respect my choice.”

He only looked down at me, anger and pain etched into his features.

“I will let you process this, while I say my goodbyes.” I kissed him gently on the cheek before turning to head back inside to pack my bag for the final time.

—---------------------------------------

I took a shaky breath before entering the mess hall. The men noticed my arrival waving me over to the table. I kept my own emotions at bay as they all smiled at me. This would be the last time I saw their faces.

“Hey boys!” I cooed to the men. They all stood from their seats as I rounded the table.

“Em, are you alright?” Lieb asked me as I sat beside him. I resisted the urge to reach up and brush my fingers through his hair.

“I’m ok.” I uttered softly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I leant into him, my hands coming around his bicep as I lent my head against his shoulder.

“Em?” Lieb asked, craning his head to look down at me. “Why do you look like you have bad news?”

“Because I do.” A sombre tone fell over the table. I straightened myself from my position and stood.

“They have ordered me back home. Due to the events of last night, they don’t feel I am fit to continue my service.” I broke my lie to the men. Their faces fell as a groan of protest rippled through the group of my fellow Easy men.

“It’s ok Em, we’ll see you when we get back home.” Babe chirped as he grinned at me.

I could feel my heart ripping in my chest. He wouldn’t see me again. None of them would.

“Yeah!” My voice cracked as sadness seeped into my tone. I quickly righted the mistake. “We will all have a big party when you guys get home.” Lieb reached up, taking my hand in his, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

“But I’m going to miss all of you-” I had to pause to take a shaky breath before continuing. I laughed as the men looked up at me with concern on their faces.

“I’m ok, just sad that I won’t be able to see you guys for a while.” My other hand was taken by Bull. The man who had saved me right at the beginning of this mess.

“I want to come and give each one of you a hug goodbye. And then I’ll be off!” Complaints and offeres to were raised by the Easy men.

“Don said he wanted to have me all to himself before I left, so you all have to do as he wishes!” Malarkey hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but I couldn’t have the men sending me off through the portal.

The men thankfully agreed to my terms.

I went around the table taking each man into my arms. Tightly squeezing them one last time.

Lipton pulled me into his embrace as he whispered into my ear. “Be safe, Em.” I pulled back and his hands cupped my cheeks, brushing away the tears that slipped down them.

Perco grinned widely at me as I stood blubbering in front of him. “Hey, don’t cry! I’ll make you eggs anytime, and we won’t even have to get it from the source.” His arms wrapped around me rocking me side to side in a boisterous manner.

Martin hugged me like the dad I never had, pressing a soft kiss to my hair.

Luz opened his arms, tears glimmering in his own eyes. “Don’t cry George or you’ll make me cry more!”

“Who’s gonna laugh at my jokes?” His voice broke as he tried to be funny. I didn’t answer his question, only holding him closer.

Webster and Tab both gave me kisses to the cheeks, wishing me safely on my journey.

“Thank you for fixing me up Gene.” A bittersweet smile formed on his lips as he pulled me close.

“Thank you for being the best medic Em. I didn’t tell you enough but I think you make a wonderful nurse.” I buried my face into his shoulder as his hand stroked down my back.

Babe and I didn’t utter a word to each other, he only crushed me to his chest. We both quietly cried into each other's shoulders.

I pulled back, using my palm to wipe his face clean. “You’ll see me again Em.” He promised as I nodded tearfully.

Bull enveloped me into his arms like I was a small child who had curled into his lap. He pressed kisses to the top of my head. I listened to his thick twang as he spoke, “I’ll miss you little lady. Don’t be a stranger.”

Finally it was Lieb left. Only once in my life had I seen the man cry, but here he was looking up at me with tears in his eyes.

“Can’t believe you’re going.” He said as he rocked us back and forward. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“You’ll be fine Lieb.” I pulled back so I could memorise his face. He shook his head and took me into his embrace once again.

I waved goodbye to them all as I left the mess facility. I still had to find the rest of the officers.

I found Nix and Winters first. “Em are you doing alright?” Dick took in my appearance, my blotchy cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“I came to take up your offer. I would like to leave.” The men looked shocked, glancing from me to each other.

“When would you like to leave?” Nix asked.

“As soon as possible.”

The men again looked even more flabbergasted.

“We have one at 1300hrs, a jeep can take you to the port and then you ship back home.” Dick reported, checking his watch. It was 1130am, I had a couple hours before my departure.

“Is that soon enough for you?” Dick’s eyes flicked up from his wrist.

I nodded. “Thank you both for all that you have done for me. Richard, thank you for taking me in, and trusting me. Lew, thank you for caring for me and keeping me safe.”

“You guys don’t know how much you mean to me. I never really had a male figure in my life. The love and support you have shown me in this small amount of time we have known each other, will fill up the rest of my lifetime and even after my death.” The men looked even more confused than before.

“Emily you’re only going home, we will see you again I’m sure.” Dick surged forward to bring me into his arms. His hand smoothed down my curls soothingly.

“I hope so.” I whispered into his jacket, latching my hands around his waist.

Pulling back I found Nix now at our side, I went from one man to the other. I flung my arms around Lew's neck as he nuzzled into me.

“Gonna miss ya kid.” Nix said softly into my hair. I could hear the thickness of emotion in his voice, as if he somehow knew that this was inevitably the end.

I finally stepped back from the embrace, sniffing and wiping away my tears that seemed endless.

“I don’t mean to be forward, but I love you both, so very dearly.” Both the men chuckled.

“We love you too Em.” Dick’s charming smile appeared on his lips.

“I’ve already said goodbye to all of the men, but there is just one more person I need to see.”

Dick nodded pointing back over his shoulder, “Should be somewhere in the office.”

I gave a thank you before scurrying off to find the said man.

My fist knocked on the wooden frame of the door that stood open. Speirs sat at his desk with his head down filing through papers.

“Come in.” Ron called without glancing to see who it was.

“Sir.” I started, but the sound of my voice caused the man to look up.

“Em!” He smiled at me. “What’s the occasion?”

Ron set aside the task he was working on to give me his full attention.

“I came to say goodbye. I’m leaving in a few hours, I’m gonna go home. I think it’s my time.”

Speirs sighed but smiled still. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You need the rest, after-” He paused, having to look away as he continued to speak. “After everything you’ve been through.”

“We’ll miss you. But I’m glad you won’t be coming to the Pacific, it’s not something you should be exposed to.”

I hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I think I just need to go home and relax. And don’t worry about giving me your treasures, I’ve got it all sorted out.” His brow pinched.

“It’s a gift.” Ron assured me.

“And I thank you for the kindness, but it isn’t necessary anymore.” I held my ground, there would be no one for him to send it to. I would rather he keep it.

“Oh, so you’re going, going.” Ron corrected.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, confused by his comment.

“You think I didn’t notice?” Speirs peered up at me, confusion lined my face.

“What?” My heart drummed in my ears.

“I’m a smart man, Emily. I have done my research on you. I have done my research on everyone. But you stood out. No records, nothing. I have been watching you, I notice things.” The more he spoke the more confused I became.

“You aren’t from here. I don’t know why or how, but I know you weren’t born during this time. And you’ve made the decision to go home.” Speirs stood from his chair and rounded the desk to stand in front of me.

“You’ve come to say goodbye for good. Haven’t you?” He bent down slightly so that he was looking me in the eyes.

I was speechless, all I could do was nod.

“How? How did you even come to that conclusion?”

“It doesn’t matter. It never mattered. But for some reason I assumed you would stay.” Speirs’ arms drew me in.

“What does Don think?” He asked as I laid my head on his chest.

“He hates me for it.” I admitted sourly.

“I’m sure he’ll come round.” Speirs reassured me as he cradled my face to his heart.

“I wanted you to walk me down the aisle.” My thoughts surged from my mouth before I could hold them back. I had thought about it when I was planning to stay. If I was to be wed to Don, Ron was the one I wanted to give me away.

“Good. No one else would be allowed but me.” Speirs chuckled.

My laughs turned into sobs as I clutched him closer. “Am I making a huge mistake?”

“You are doing what you think is best Em, and I trust you.” He pulled me back to look down at me. “Follow your heart.”

“Thank you for everything-”

“You don’t need to give me a big speech Em. I know how you feel about me and you know how I feel about you. Let’s just have this moment.”

I think I spent two hours with Ron. Most of it I spent sobbing, but to have those last few hours together before I left filled me with so much joy it hurt.

I tried to find Don, but he was nowhere to be seen and it was getting closer to when I would have to be out of sight.

Sobbing, I walked back to where I had found the shimmer. I walked faster before my selfishness got the best of me and I turned and walked the other way.

“Stop!” Don called from behind me.

“Don!” I pleaded, if he was here to stop me he was wasting his breath.

“I thought about it. And you’re right. If you love something, let it go. I hope you do the same Em. I want you to live a happy life, and even though I hate the idea, find someone who will make you happy. I will think about you everyday, you will forever be in my heart."

"I wanted to do a lot of things with you Em. I wanted to marry you and take you home to meet my family who would love you so much, by the way. I wanted you to be the mother of my kids, and the grandmother to their kids and hell even a great grandmother! I wanted to get old with you and live a quiet life, just me and you, sitting on the porch drinking ice tea."

"And we would argue and bicker, but only because we loved each other so much. You will forever be the love of my life, even if I can’t have you. You will be in my dreams every night, until the day I die. And when I die, I hope to find you again in every lifetime, if only just to know you. And even when you’re gone I will look for you in every woman I pass on the street and in the stores."

"You will have my heart now and forever. I love you so much, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” His speech was broken by his cries, but it was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.

“I love you Don. I wish I could choose to stay. I wish all those things could come true. You have captured my heart and I fear I will never love the same again. I will never love someone as deeply and as fiercely as I love you. I will never forget your laugh, the way you smile at me, the way you kiss me."

"You have seared yourself into my soul and I will carry you with me through every lifetime. I believe you are my one true love, and I will never find someone who makes me as happy as you do. Don’t think of this as goodbye, but see you again. I will find you, even if it’s only in my dreams. Thank you for coming.” I sobbed as he kissed my cheeks, then my lips.

The most tender goodbye kiss. One that left me breathless for more but broken hearted at the same time. We stayed wrapped in each other's arms, head pressed together as our breaths mingled.

I kissed him for the last time. “I love you.” I whispered softly.

I turned and walked towards the shimmer. I stood in front of the portal as it shone in the sunlight. I didn’t look back, I couldn’t, it would stop me.

Taking one last breath I stepped forward into the shimmer, before everything went black.

#happy birthday to me #im 24!#band of brothers #hbo war #donald malarkey #easy company #band of brothers fanfic #dick winters #ronald speirs #lewis nixon #Emily Lane #Emarkey #my fic #my oc #I love you all truly #I'm so sorry #forgive me

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