feitan

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

“Motherfucker!”

You angrily hit the coffee maker that has been causing the entire emergency department trouble for the majority of today’s shift. Langdon had watched you struggle earlier this morning before swooping in to fix the problem with a swift hit to the side of the machine and an off hand comment about having the ‘magic touch’. So, you imitate his actions now — hoping another dose of caffeine will help get you through the last couple hours of your shift. The machine stops its incessant beeping just as it had hours ago, but instead of brewing a fresh cup of mediocre coffee, the interactive screen goes completely black. 

Great. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath. If Jack were here, he’d miraculously show up beside you with a latte in hand. You don’t know how he does it, but the man just knows exactly what you need and when you need it — you’ve taken to calling it his ‘sixth sense’. In reality, that’s Jack — observant and steadfast. 

You miss the night shift.

It’s not that you dislike the day shift. In fact, you happily accepted Dana’s request for your help covering for Donnie during his paternity leave. In Robby’s words: they needed another nurse practitioner on the day shift and there’s only one that he trusts. A part of you thinks that it was just flattery to get you to come to the light side, but deep down you know that Robby only knows how to speak honestly. Lena wasn’t necessarily happy to let her best help switch shifts for an extended period of time, but she also knows that the ED is a team — sure the staff is split between day shift and night shift, but things only run smoothly when the shifts help each other out. 

Jack wasn’t too keen on the idea. 

He couldn’t stop you of course — Lena is your supervisor, not him. But that didn’t stop him from voicing his concerns. Jack Abbot has always been protective of his nightcrawlers, but there was something verging on possessive in the way he told Robby that this is simply a temporary arrangement after he realized he couldn’t change your mind. 

“Should I call Ahmad to escort the caffeine criminal off the premises or do you have a handle on the situation?”

Robby’s voice breaks through your thoughts. You let out a sigh before turning to face the day shift’s senior attending. His expression, usually threaded with deep exhaustion and stoicism, is teetering on the edge of playfulness while a small smile tugs at his lips. 

“Y’know what, Robinavitch? We never had this problem when we had the old machine. Mr. Coffee only had three buttons and never betrayed me.”

Robby lets out a breath through his nose — not quite a laugh, but the closest he’ll get to one this late into his shift. Gloria had decided to get the department a fancy new coffee maker that makes individual cups instead of a full pot a few weeks ago to celebrate improved patient satisfaction scores. What was meant to be a gesture of goodwill from upstairs has become the staff’s worst nightmare.

“You sound like Jack.”

You roll your eyes, but you also know no one has been more upset about this change than the night shift’s senior attending. Robby has always brought his own coffee from home, but Jack has been relying on the emergency department’s supply of shitty coffee for the entirety of his career at PTMC. You’d asked him about it once when you first started working together and he’d revealed under fluorescent lights that there was something comforting about the way it reminded him of the coffee rations he’d receive during his deployments. 

“Have you talked to Jack recently?”

Robby attempts to sound nonchalant; however, you know him better than that. You’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s worse than the night shift nurses. Always needing to be in the know about everything and everyone. He swears that it’s because he’s the senior attending, so it’s his responsibility to keep an eye and ear on all of his staff. But Jack isn’t like that. He’s always been reserved and professional during shifts, always keeping his staff at a distance so he doesn’t get too attached — everyone except for you. In between cups of coffee and rooftop conversations, you managed to slip through the cracks of that cool, steely exterior.

“We talk during handover, but that’s not exactly the same as working a twelve hour shift with someone. Why? Anything I should be concerned about?”

Robby’s lips pull into a tight smile at your response, but anxiety finds its place in your chest. During handoff about a week ago, Mateo had pulled you aside to ask if you had any idea what was going on with Jack. Your brow furrowed as Mateo filled you in about Jack’s sudden change in demeanor with his staff — the once calm and collected attending has been increasingly impatient and scattered. You’d reassured Mateo that it was probably just stress related since Jack hadn’t had a day off in months — and even then he spent his rare off-call moments volunteering as a SWAT medic. You figured that Jack had finally hit a wall and was running on fumes, but Robby’s words were now making you second your assumptions.

“Nothing of concern, just looking out for you and Jack.”

Robby has this tone that makes it seem like he knows more about your relationship with Jack Abbot than you do. You know about his history with the night shift’s senior attending physician, but Robby hasn’t been there for the close calls at three o’clock in the morning when Jack puts his complete trust in your hands without a second thought. He hasn’t been there for the nights that seem to drag on for days when it seems like the sun will never rise again. He hasn’t been there for the hushed conversations in stairwells when the night feels darkest and the only comfort to be found in PTMC is in each other’s presence. 

It’s not a bond built on flirtation — God knows, Jack Abbot flirts with everyone. And does that make you a little jealous? Maybe. And were you hoping that the distance created due to being on day shift for a few weeks would help you create some boundaries with the man? Possibly. But here you are, still infuriatingly infatuated with a man you have absolutely no chance with. 

“I can assure you there’s no Jack and I.”

“Mhm.”

That damn tone again. You want to smack that smug look right off of his stupid face, but before you get the chance to fire back a commotion outside abruptly ends your conversation. The two of you move in tandem, Robby holding the door to the break room open as you duck under his arm before surveying the scene. Your eyes immediately widen as you spot Langdon attempting to keep two infuriated men on their separate gurneys as they yell over each other. He meets your eyes before moving his gaze to Robby, relief flooding his features.

“A little help here?”

You and Robby share a brief, knowing look before dividing and conquering the situation. Robby steps in, wheeling one of the men away while you follow after Landgon who is moving with the other. 

“What’s the story here?”

You have to shout over the man’s incessant yelling, but Langdon ducks his head down slightly as he navigates the gurney through the ED to hear you better in the chaos. From not too far away, you hear Robby yell for Whitaker to take over his unruly patient so he can go find Ahmad for back up. Langdon’s shoulder bumping into yours pulls your attention back to your own situation.

“Bar argument gone ugly.”

The man laying on the gurney is bleeding profusely from lacerations on his forehead, but is cognescent enough to keep loudly threatening the other patient that came in with him. You manage to get a closer look at his wounds once Langdon locks the gurney in place and through the deep crimson you see little, semi-translucent pieces of debris. Your brow furrows as the light catches one of the pieces.

“Is that glass?”

Langdon nods before meeting your eyes with a crooked smile plastered on his face. 

“Beer bottle to the head. Told you it got ugly.”

You let out a breath before gloving up with Langdon. As the two of you attempt to assess his injuries the man begins to fight you both off, pushing your hands away before either of you can start getting control of the bleeding. You pull back hoping to get the man’s attention so that Langdon can start giving him the care he needs. 

“Sir, I’m gonna need you to calm down so that we can take a look at your injuries. Can you tell me your name?”

Finally, the man’s eyes land on you but they are filled with nothing but unbridled fury. You fight off the urge to take a step back from the situation and, instead, stand your ground. 

“What I need is to get my hands on that son of a bitch who tried to fucking kill me. Can you help me with that?”

You raise both of your hands as the man fights off Langdon once again. He gives you an exasperated look as his shoulders slump in annoyance. 

“I can not, this is a hospital not a fighting ring. What I can help you with is getting your bleeding under control and taking that glass out of your head before you get a nasty infection. How’s that sound?”

Your tone is stern but gentle as you attempt to talk the patient down. For a moment, his face softens in understanding and you almost let out a sigh of relief after having gotten through to him, but then Whitaker’s voice tears through the moment.

“I’ve got a runner, incoming!”

“Oh, shit.”

Langdon’s tone makes your heart rate spike, but before you get a chance to turn towards the commotion Whitaker’s very angry patient shoves you into the wall.

“We need some help in here! You good?”

Langdon’s worried eyes are locked on you as he tries to keep the two patients from tearing each other apart. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, but you had managed to stay on your feet which saved you from any additional trauma. After catching your breath, you leap in to help restrain the patient who just assaulted you.

“Sir, please. We need you to calm down!”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he continues to lunge at your patient who is now being held back by Langdon. What a fucking mess. You haven’t had a situation like this since last year’s Fourth of July night shift when two drunken men came into the E.D. after one of them practically eviscerated his buddy’s legs after shooting off a firework directly at him. Your eyes desperately meet Langdon’s, hoping he’s in the same boat as you, and he gives you a similar look of bewilderment.

“Whitaker! Ahmad! Anyone!”

Langdon’s voice is strained as the man in his arms struggles against his hold. You’re using all of your strength to pull Whitaker’s patient away from your own, but he’s got at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you. Keeping him restrained is taking all of your strength. Finally, Whitaker’s shoes squeak as he slides into the room.

“Woah, what can I do?”

Langdon gives him a ludicrous look before his eyes land on you.

“Give them a hand, will ya?”

Whitaker immediately jumps in to help you. You were hoping the additional body could help even the odds with these men; however, they seem to be getting more violent by the minute. The man in your grasp reels back and shoves Whitaker, who stumbles back. Now with only you holding him back, he takes this as a chance to take a swing on Langdon. 

“Absolutely not!”

You grab his arm and pull back before he can land a punch. The man lets out a desperate, angry cry and swings his arm back hard. His elbow connects with your nose with a loud crack. The room explodes further than you thought was possible as you spit out the blood draining into your mouth due to the blow. The searing hot pain blooming across your face blinds your vision. 

Fuck, that hurt. 

You blink once, then twice — your eyes finally adjusting to the damage. Your patient has seemingly settled down enough to be left alone, while Langdon has your assailant in a chokehold as Whitaker tries to pin his arms behind his back. 

“What the hell is going on in h—?”

Robby’s words die in his throat once his eyes land on you. His face twists into concern for a brief, fleeting moment before a dangerous rage washes over his hardened features.

“Knock it off before I knock you out.”

Robby’s voice is ice cold and it suddenly pauses the entire room. The only noise filling your ears is everyone’s heavy breathing. Robby lets everyone cool down for a moment before barking out orders.

“Ahmad, get this man out of here. Whitaker, take over the patient who didn’t attack one of our nurses. Langdon, with me.”

Everyone complies instantly and you let out a relieved sigh as the tension in the room finally dissipates. Robby makes his way to you in two large strides with Langdon behind him. He drops his head to meet your eyes which have regained their comforting warmth.

“How you doing, Slugger?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”

Robby raises a brow as you spit more blood on to the floor, narrowly missing his sneaker. Langdon gives you a similar incredulous look. Obviously, your attempts to brush off their concern have fallen on deaf ears. Great. Two hours from shift change and now you’re a patient. 

This day can’t get any worse. 

Robby takes another step forward and carefully places a hand on your chin and gently tilts your head up toward the ceiling. You grimace immediately at the bright, fluorescent lights above you.

“You’ve got two black eyes, a broken nose, and you’re bleeding all over the floor. This isn’t nothing.”

His voice is surprisingly gentle and his features soften into a look you can only describe as brotherly concern. You sigh defeatedly, squeezing your eyes shut as the adrenaline in your body begins to subside giving way to an invasive and persistent shooting pain in your head. Robby’s hands find your shoulders — you aren’t sure if the physical contact is meant to provide you comfort or a precaution in case you pass out. Either way, you appreciate the way his delicate hold grounds you back into this moment.

“I’m going to have Langdon take you to an empty room and do a full exam. Okay?”

You open your eyes again and nod at his question. Robby’s posture relaxes slightly, obviously relieved that you didn’t stubbornly push back against his orders. He rubs your shoulders reassuringly for a moment before speaking again.

“We’re going to have to document all of this. Dana is dealing with a situation in chairs, but I’ll have her come find you when she’s done.”

You nod again, pursing your lips together into a straight line. You don’t love the idea of making a big deal out of this, but you also know that violence against health care professionals is at an all time high. The last thing this department needs is you trying to push this under the rug. Finally, Robby releases his hold on your shoulders and allows Langdon to step in.

Robby runs both his hands through his hair as he watches Langdon lead you towards a room at the back of the ED. He moves towards the hub in the center of the large room, gripping the countertop as he allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts. This is a nightmare. He needs to call Gloria about the situation that just happened. There’s  a stack of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Someone has to alert the authorities. And worst of all, he needs to call Abbot.

Hopefully, the asshole that assaulted you will be off the premises before the night shift attending rips through the emergency department. Not because he cares for the wellbeing of your assailant — more so that he doesn’t necessarily want to bail his best friend out of jail tonight. Robby sighs as he digs his phone out of his pocket. He finds Jack’s contact easily in his favorites and presses the speaker to his ear. To his surprise, the call immediately goes to voicemail. Robby knows that Jack has the day off; however, he’s always easy to reach — especially if you’re on shift. So, he dials the number again and presses the phone to his ear. But just like before, he is once again met with Jack’s voice apologizing for missing the call. That’s odd. His brow furrows, but before he can think about his friend’s odd behavior further he’s distracted by a concerned voice behind him. 

“I heard about what happened. Dana’s almost done in chairs. How can I help?”

Robby turns to look at Perlah who is currently trying to catch her breath from her obvious sprint over to him.

“Do you know who their emergency contact is?”

If he can’t get ahold of Jack, he might as well let your other loved ones know what happened. Perlah side steps the attending and logs in to one of the computers on the other side of the counter. It only takes a couple seconds to pull up your digital file and a smile spreads across the nurse’s features as she spots the name listed.

“Abbot.”

Of course he is.

“I can’t get a hold of him.”

Perlah’s expression reflects his own confusion for a moment until she remembers a conversation she had with you in the break room earlier this morning. 

“He’s gone fishing.”

Robby’s eyes shoot to his hairline as a laugh bubbles in his chest. He attempts to picture his friend in a boat by himself on the river with a fishing rod in his hand, but his mind cannot seem to compute that absolutely ludicrous concept.

“Abbot is fishing?”

“Apparently they convinced Abbot to actually take a day off, put his phone on do not disturb, and find a hobby that doesn’t involve getting shot at.”

Robby’s eyes drift to the room he watched Langdon escort you to as he attempts to wrap his head around the information he was just given. Jack Abbot is fishing on his rare day off because you asked him to find a hobby that doesn’t involve putting himself in harm’s way — and he listened. He wants to be impressed, but instead he’s just annoyed at the two of you — he’s fucking tired of watching the two of you dance around your feelings for one another. He looks down at his phone again, still confused at how his paranoid best friend could actually relax when he’s unreachable while you’re still on the clock.

Oh. 

The realization hits him like a slap to the face and he looks up at Perlah who is still anxiously waiting for the attending to start barking out orders. 

“Do you think you can manage to get their phone?”

Perlah frowns for a moment, confused by his question. And then her face lights up as she comes to the same realization as the attending standing in front of her. A smile pulls at her lips as she nods at Robby’s request.

“I think I can manage that.”

Jack Abbot enters the emergency department like a hurricane — his presence immediately disrupting the fragile peace they’ve managed to establish since your assault. Robby meets him at the door, stopping him before he can cause any unnecessary damage. 

“Where is she?”

Robby frowns. Abbot’s voice is lacking its usual warmth — in its place is a fiery, impatient intensity. 

“Let’s just cool down for a second. She’s alright — getting checked out by Langdon as we speak. Okay, Jack?”

Abbot’s brown eyes darken at Robby’s words. His posture stiffens and he’s suddenly aware that he’s no longer looking at his best friend. No, the man standing before him is a devoted soldier with one mission and God help anyone who gets in his way — he certainly isn’t dumb enough to stand between the two of you. 

“Exam room 11.”

Abbot brushes past Robby without another word and marches toward the back of the emergency department. He finally feels like he can breathe again as he enters the doorway and watches Langdon press an icepack to your nose. You flinch away from him and Frank lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You are a horrible patient.”

“Well, you’re a horrible nurse. You have to be gentle.”

Abbot leans against the doorframe, his body relaxing now that he’s heard the sound of your voice. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips at your defiance. Eventually, Langdon pulls the icepack away from your face and his blood runs cold as he gets a look at your injuries. It takes every ounce of what’s left of his self control to stay put, instead of forcing Robby to let him know who did this to you.

“I’ve got it from here, Langdon. You can get back to work.”

Both of your heads snap towards the attending standing in the doorway, but Jack’s eyes never leave yours. He watches as your expression shifts from confusion to relief before taking a few steps into the small exam room.

“Hey, Abbot. I’m actually almost done here. The rest of the exam will only take a minute.”

Jack finally regards the other man in the room, but his demeanor shifts to annoyance as Langdon continues to occupy your personal space — as he watches another man’s fingers glide gently over your cheek while he’s standing right there. The sight makes him sick to his stomach as a pervasive, ugly feeling claws at his chest.

“Langdon. Out. Now.”

Langdon’s movements suddenly still and the room immediately feels too small for the three of you. Luckily, the resident does what Jack says and exits the room without sparing you a second glance. Jack’s cold demeanor melts as soon as he hears the door close behind Langdon. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Jack’s voice fills the room and you finally feel safe. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you hear his boots take careful, calculated footsteps move towards you. This is a dream — it must be. Jack’s fishing today, unreachable until after your shift ends. But then he’s standing in front of you, invading your personal space in a way that’s so undeniably him. You finally look up, meeting his piercing gaze and you swear his jaw ticks slightly as he takes in the full extent of your injuries. 

“It looks worse than it is.”

It’s a lie, but all you want is to smooth out the worried creases on his forehead. Jack tilts his head slightly at your words — considering them for a moment. His hands move slowly allowing you time to pull away, but you let him cradle your face with a tenderness that feels misplaced in this environment. His thumb gently brushes under your eye, where deep purple bruising has made its temporary home, and you flinch away from his touch before he even makes it to the worst of your injuries. Jack pulls his hands away from you and you involuntarily frown — a smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he watches the way you chase his touch. 

“Do me a favor?”

You nod at his question — not fully trusting your voice at this moment. Jack bows his head slightly, meeting you eye to eye. His gaze is a raging wildfire of emotions. It’s a stark contrast to his calm demeanor and steady hands.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You roll your eyes at this as he stands to his full height again. His hands find their way back to you again, settling on your knees as he begins assessing your injuries further. You lean in closer to him without even thinking about it — it’s like Jack Abbot is the sun and you’re simply a planet trapped in his orbit.  

“How are you here?”

Jack’s brows knit together at your question, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. His thumb absentmindedly rubs gentle, grounding circles against your scrubs as his gaze trails over every visible wound on your face. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be fishing.”

His face scrunches at your words, but he doesn’t stop his careful assessment of your condition.

“I got a call.”

“Your phone was on do not disturb — you were unreachable.”

“To everyone other than you.”

Your breath catches in your chest at his words. He says it nonchalantly, but the significance of that statement lands harder than the elbow you took to the face. You’re the only person that Jack would let interrupt his day off. Hell, you’re the only reason he took a day off to begin with. 

“But how… Perlah.”

Jack’s head tilts as he watches you put the pieces together. Not too long after Langdon got you into the exam room, Perlah found the two of you. She helped Langdon with the exam for a few minutes before cursing that her phone had died before she made an important call. You had offered her your own, thinking nothing of the interaction. But now you understand exactly what transpired when Perlah left with your cell. 

“Yeah, scared me half to death when it wasn’t your voice on the other end.”

Your frown deepens at that. You can only imagine the fear that clawed its way back into Jack’s chest — can only imagine the unwanted memories it brought up. Your eyes glance down at his left hand, where a silver wedding band permanently resides. You remember the morning on the roof when Jack finally told you about his late wife after a particularly difficult shift. The two of you had lost a young woman whose vehicle had been struck by a drunk driver. You watched Jack go above and beyond for the woman in a way you’d never seen before. And you noticed the way his entire demeanor shifted once he had to call it after an hour of compressions. Jack slipped out of the ED the moment that the day shift showed up and you followed after once you completed handoff. You found Jack on the edge of the roof — not surprising on any other day, but a concerning visual after what you just witnessed that night. He knew you’d find him — you always do. And as you took your usual place, leaning your elbows against the railing right behind him, he finally opened up about the worst day he’s ever experienced. You listened as he told you about how his wife was in an accident. How she was dead on impact and EMS found her phone on the scene. How Jack was her only emergency contact. How he despises that the last time his wife called him he never even got to hear her voice. How he knows he’s your emergency contact. How his heart can’t go through that again. 

“I’m sorry, Jack. The last thing I wanted was for you to worry about me on your day off.”

Jack’s brow furrows at your words.

“Sweetheart, all I do when I’m not with you is worry.”

You both let that sentence linger in the room for a few moments. Jack continues to trace shapes into your shrubs as you attempt to calm your nerves as you realize how intimate this conversation feels. Finally, Jack breaks the silence.

“Can you just come back to the night shift so I can stop freaking out every time my phone rings throughout the day?”

You almost smile at that.

“Donnie comes back in two weeks.”

You mean for that to be comforting; however, this only makes Jack’s body stiffen in response. His head drops as he lets out a long sigh.

“Two weeks is too long.”

“You’re not my boss, Jack.”

Jack pulls his hands away and you watch as he runs them through his short, grey curls. He looks exhausted — and you suddenly feel guilty that his relaxing day off has turned into this. 

“You’re right, but sweetheart, I can’t do this without you anymore.”

A part of you wants to throttle him because of that nickname and how easily it falls off his lips — how it’ll only feel right when it’s his voice saying it to you. 

“Do what?”

Jack looks at you and his face twists into confusion as he realizes your question is genuine.

“Get through the fucking night.”

A beat passes. You desperately want to just say yes. It’s what you want isn’t it? Returning to the night shift — returning to him. But that’s also the problem. What is this? You thought your switch to day shift would give you some sort of explanation, but your time away has only made you more confused. Would it actually just be easier if the two of you only saw each other during handoff? No domestic moments between cups of coffee, no more mornings spent side-by-side on the rooftop, no more stolen, fleeting touches as he passes you on your way to the hub. You know what you are to Robby — to everyone on day shift. It’s simple. But with Jack — it’s never been simple and maybe that’s the problem.

“What if I want to stay on the day shift?”

Jack recoils like you just threw a punch at him. Guilt claws up your throat as you watch his face fall. It’s a lie — you know that it is. You love everything about the night shift, but you also don’t know how much longer you can keep playing this game with Jack before you simply fall apart. 

“Why would you want that?”

“Because at least I know where I stand with everyone here.”

Jack’s brow furrows — you hate that it’s cute. That everything about him draws you in.

“You don’t know where you stand with me?”

You shake your head and he scoffs — the sound is surprisingly cold. He looks at you, brow pinched into a scowl. And then he realizes that you’re serious. Your expression is nothing but unashamed honesty and his head cocks to the side at that. Do you really think he’s been stringing you along this entire time? That this has all been meaningless flirtation? That you mean nothing to him?

He takes a step forward, slotting himself between your knees. Your breath catches as he reaches up and gently cradles your face. His touch is different than before — all professionalism has been cast aside and is now replaced with his overwhelming adoration. Without thinking your fingers grab the hem of his black t-shirt. He smiles as he feels you nervously pick at a loose stitch before he ducks his head and his lips finally meet your own. Your grip on his t-shirt tightens as he moves his hands through your hair. Now this is a dream. The kiss is soft and restrained — you know he’s holding back due to your injuries. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. Jack pulls away too soon for your liking, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he places his forehead against yours. 

“Sweetheart, I’ve been yours since the minute you walked through the fucking door.”

You bite your lip as you attempt to hold back the giddy grin that begs to spread itself across your face. 

“You never said anything.”

Jack pulls away at that, not far — just enough to get a good look at you. The look on his face is incredulous — like it’s absurd you don’t know that his entire life revolves around you at this point.

“I thought I made myself abundantly clear.”

You laugh at that and Jack steals a kiss from your lips just because he can.

“I take it Robby gave you the rest of the day off?”

You nod, smiling as you feel Jack thread his fingers through yours.

“He told me to go home after Langdon finished my exam — who you should apologize to.”

Jack’s jaw clenches slightly as his brow furrows. 

“Him being here was unnecessary.”

You watch him for a moment, trying to understand what happened between the two men that never seemed to have any sort of animosity prior to today. And then your hand tightens around Jack’s as you realize what happened.

“You were jealous.”

Jack rolls his eyes.

“I have no reason to be jealous.”

You raise a brow at his statement. He’s not wrong — he has no reason to be jealous of Frank Langdon, but you know the resident somehow got under his skin. He may be able to maintain his facade of nonchalance to the rest of his staff, but you see right through him.

“What makes you so confident?”

he’d be scanning the groceries at self-checkout, and you’d turn to see one of the workers looking at him. your spine went stiff, a frown marring your face. and then you’d start tugging on his sleeve from beside him, telling him to hurry, hurry up, hurry up, let’s go.

“who wants to have their way with me now?” he’d mumble, bumping his hip into yours, still not looking away from the register.

“no one,” you’d say. you didn’t want to boost his ego anymore. “just fucking hurry up now.”

“who is it?”

“me. i do. let’s go home so i can have my way with you.”

he clicked his tongue. “liar. you’re just gonna yell at me.” still, he turned his neck slightly to where yours was, murmuring a small “ah” to himself.

you groaned, but he did speed up. with bags in hand, he turned to walk out with you, placing himself behind you, free palm on your shoulder, thumb finding the curve where your neck met it. you’d come face-to-face with the poor woman you’d theorized was already in love with jack.

“hey, my girlfriend here really wants some lottery tickets. can you let my girlfriend know where she can find them?”

he couldn’t help it! he loves the little way the corners of your mouth curves up whenever he makes it clear that he’s taken.

the woman would blink, an obvious wedding band catching under the lights (jack would snort softly from behind you), as she pointed toward the front counter, entirely married, entirely not the threat you’d decided she was.

“good,” you murmured later, grabbing the lottery ticket as it printed.

his free palm would settle on your waist and he’d murmur, “did i make you happy back there?”

“yup.”

and jack would smile because he truly did feel like he’d won the lottery. he’d watch you over your shoulder as you fussed out a coin, brow furrowed as you did the scratch-off.

“i won two dollars,” you’d say after revealing the last symbol. you’d twist in his arms, ticket held up with a smile like you’d just told him you were pregnant with triplets instead of two dollars richer.

“lucky girl,” he’d say, matching your smile. his mouth would brush your hairline.

“uh-huh,” you’d say, letting him stay there, nose tucked against your hair.

“c’mon then, let’s go.” he’d put his hand on the small of your back after a minute, turning you around, to lead you out. clearly still hanging onto your short burst of jealousy. “before someone else decides to steal me.”

“don’t.”

“i’m vulnerable,” he’d tease.

or you’d go to pick him up in the morning, watching him handover the shift to robby, and then he’d go and say goodbye to one of his patients who thanked him profusely.

when he’d come back out, you’d roll your eyes and turn your back to him, already walking to the exit. “aren’t you just a ladies man?”

robby’d look at jack slightly confused and maybe even a bit put off, but jack would just wet his lips as he watched you leave, looking completely and utterly delighted.

“your girlfriend’s got a jealous streak, i think.”

“she does, doesn’t she?” jack would still be watching the doors you’d gone through, tugging the lanyard off his neck. “i love her. i gotta go.”

robby would rub his chin as he watches the man he’s known for too long look utterly delighted to get chewed out and wonder what the hell was going on in your home.

meanwhile you’d be at the car with your arms crossed, watching jack walk toward you with a little smile on his face that should’ve been wiped off with the long shift.

“i’m sorry,” he’d say immediately, slightly out of breath because he’d sped up to find you. “she thought i was her son,” he said about the patient, an eighty-year-old woman who truly did think he was her son. “but i’m sorry.”

“you’re too old to be her son.”

“too old to be a lotta things.” he’d back you gently into the passenger door, hands finding your hips. “not for this, though.”

and you’d keep going anyway, muttering how he was too nice, that he should only smile at you, that it wasn’t fair, that he was doing it on purpose.

“tell me to shut up,” you’d say out of nowhere, in the middle of your rant, furrowing your brows as he let you go on and on.

“no.” he’d rear his head back like he was confused by the demand. “i’ve wanted to hear your voice for the last twelve hours.”

you’d stare up at him with your mouth slightly open and nothing at all to say. his thumb would come up to press gently on your chin, keeping the expression there.

“there she is,” he’d murmur, pleased. “quiet at last.”

in the car, on the way home, he’d respond to bits of your rant.

“all my patient satisfaction scores are gonna go down.”

“so those are more important than me?”

his hand would land on your thigh as he kept his eyes on the road. “nope. i like the girl more than the scores.”

a lot of the time with you, he’d feel like a puppy getting a trick right. which is why he’d started doing it on purpose; introducing you before he introduces himself, texting you the logistics of his life unprompted, taking your hand in the condiments aisle for no reason, calling you after physical therapy simply because his physical therapist – sam – had touched his arms during the lesson and – like he’d been pavlov’d, some conditioned little bell going off in his head that only you were allowed to touch him – jack felt an immediate pressing need to hear your voice.

he knew that he was only feeding into it, selfishly craving more of your teeth in his shoulder and your fingers wrapped around his forearms in public even if your positioning hardly ever allowed for it.

it was getting out of hand. on a night off, when he’d come in with swat during the day and stayed until the end of day shift, robby and dana asked him to come to the bar and get a drink.

“yeah – let me just ask her if she can come, too.” he immediately said, already pulling out the phone to ask you.

except you were on shift till nine p.m., and you’d said so – go!!! have fun!!! tell dana i said hi!!! – when he texted you. jack made a small noise in his mouth.

“i can’t,” he’d said.

“she’s not letting you go?” robby asked curiously.

no, you’d in fact told him the opposite of that. but he didn’t want to say that, quite liking the idea of you having that hold on him. so, he’d say, “somethin’ like that,” hoisting his bag over his shoulders. “i’m gonna sit in her bar till she gets off. you’re welcome to grab a drink there.”

“so we can all watch your girlfriend make drinks?”

dana would simply chuckle, shaking her head, already knowing that jack would somehow manage to convince half the staff clocking out to come watch you work.

he’d never felt as doted on and claimed as you made him feel. you’d swapped out the ancient bar of soap in his shower for something that smelled like you. there were bobby pins in every crevice of his car now. you’d somehow become his emergency contact, too, leaving robby a little stunned.

you’d spend all night leaving small marks on his body (the crescent of your nails at his shoulder, your teeth marks just below his collarbone that would be evident with one wrong movement under his scrubs) and he loved finding each of it randomly while getting ready.

this is also why he’s so confused when dana brings up your jealousy and how a little bit of couples counseling could help. nothing feels wrong about the relationship at all!

he’d go through all the questions he assumed a therapist would ask.

was he unhappy? not at all. he was actually stupidly happy. he’d started humming in the car and coming home early.

was he worried? about what – that you’d give him the silent treatment for twenty minutes and then hold onto his bicep for hours just to make up for it? that you’d get a bit vicious about someone and then fall asleep on his chest like an overheated animal?

that you sat tucked him in the corner in restaurant booths so you could see the whole room and he could only see you? jack hardly thought there was anything worth looking at besides you anyway.

“even the healthiest couples do it,” dana would say.

“what would it do?” jack would ask curiously, indulging her.

“well.” dana would settle in, elbows on the desk, warmly concerned. “it’ll help with her being less possessive, for starters.”

jack would just look at her, head tilted, genuinely lost. then he’d rub his thumb along his jaw, feeling eerily unsettled by the words. “it’d make her stop?”

“ideally, yeah. that’s the idea.”

oh, he hated that thought. he knew your possessiveness didn’t come out of you being insecure. he knew that it was easy to assume some poor anxious girl white-knuckling her way through the relationship, checking his phone, counting the women, but that wasn’t it.

it came out of you picking him up and putting him in your pocket. you’d simply decided that jack abbot was yours, and so what if you got a little feral when the world got too near him?

“nah,” he’d say, shaking his head as he pressed his lips together. “we’re alright.”

“you may be fine with it. but, she’d have healthier relationships in case – ”

jack’s eyes would widen, and dana would look a little caught off-guard, realizing what she’d said.

“no.” he’d make a small sound, shaking his head again. “we don’t need that, then.”

“jack –”

“she’s not goin’ anywhere.” he’d knock the desk twice. “neither am i.”

“you know what,” dana would say, blowing out a breath. “i believe that.”

later that afternoon, he’d settle on the couch beside you, mind still reeling from the idea of there being an after him for you. his arms would go around your shoulders, pulling you in impossibly close. one hand would fit around the back of your neck, thumb under your jaw, tipping your face up until you had nowhere to look but at him.

“never gonna leave me, right?” he’d ask.

your brows would pull in together, the corners of your lips curving downwards.

“why?” you’d drawl. “planning on doing something bad?”

“nope,” he’d say. “just askin’”

your jaw would tighten as you tried to gauge his expression. “then stop. nobody’s leaving anybody.” you fixed him with a pointed look. “you’re not going anywhere.”

“damn right i’m not,” he’d say. his hands would slide up your neck and into your hair, fingers spreading wide. “say it again.”

you’d laugh shortly. “you’re not going anywhere.”

“mm.” his thumb would drag along the column of your neck as he felt you go pliant under his hold. “again.”

“jack – ”

“humor me, angel,” he’d say, the words coming out in a barely-hidden plea.

“you’re not going anywhere,” you’d say, humoring him, half breathless and the other exasperated. he’d kiss you on the last word, catching it in his mouth before it finished.

the other hand would come down at your lower back and haul you across to settle on his lap.

both your knees would land on either side of him, and his hands would immediately settle on your hips.

“you’re being so strange today,” you’d say, chin tilting up as his mouth dragged down your neck.

“yeah.” he’d smile against your skin. “gonna hold it against me?”

“maybe.”

“good,” he’d say, breathing out, breath billowing warmly. “hold everything against me.”

you’d laugh, surprised at the dramatics. and he would smile so hard and spend the entire day proving to you he would never. which mostly meant he let you do whatever you wanted for eleven straight hours.

you’d put a face mask on him. he’d sit there on the couch, a decorated combat medic, and let you take four photos he’d only found out you’d posted when javadi and santos looked at him funnily during handover. he’d let you try different colors of polish on his nails, and then paint yours with the one you liked best.

he’d watch you scroll on your laptop through different clothes, pointing out things he liked, which you’d taught him to do while being visibly delighted the one time he’d said “this one’s nice.” now he did it constantly, never quite holding himself back from voicing his opinions (it was often, he thought everything would look great on you).

jack is exactly where he wants to be! and people would just have to grow used to your claws and your terrible manners spawning out of nowhere, because the man they came out for had no intention of asking you to put them away.

You spend a lot of time alone after the bond first breaks. 

The bites on your shoulders heal and fade, and after months pass, they’re gone for good. You stay with Laswell and her wife in the states - an ocean away from the pack that betrayed you. You aren’t sure if they ever reach out. Laswell helps you set up a new phone, new emails, and always checks the mail.

The fresh start does you wonders. You excel in physical therapy. Your injury no longer haunts you like an old ghost, but becomes part of you. You’re a survivor, and you’re proud of it. You attend veteran’s events and make friends. You get a part time job at a bookstore and volunteer with shelter animals in your spare time. You go on a vacation for the first time in a decade.

And then you meet the big guy in the grocery store parking lot. He notices you struggling with your bags and offers to help you load them into your car. You’re hesitant - he’s a huge, masked alpha - but you let him, and that changes everything. 

Konig, as he introduces himself, is in the states on work business. He invites you out to meet his colleagues when he learns you’re a veteran. You decide to go - he’s unlike any alpha you’ve ever met.

You like all of his colleagues - his mates, as it turns out, and they like you too. You stay in touch with them when they go on deployment and they always come back, overjoyed to see you. After some time, they ask to court you, and you agree. 

Horangi likes to take you to the cat cafe down the street from your flat. He always orders a triple carmel apple frappuccino and spends most of the date cracking jokes and playing with the cats. You like him for his easy humor and his secret gentle side. 

Krueger likes to take you dancing, and not just at clubs. He loves learning to square dance, waltz, salsa, and anything else he can find a class for. He always buys you a sweet treat after. You come to appreciate his energy and the way he always adapts to ensure you can participate in physical activities.

Nikto takes you to beautiful places. Ornate library backrooms, cliffs above the beach at sunset, brightly lit art museums. You spend most of your time with him in comfortable silence. He teaches you how to be comfortable with your own thoughts and how to see the beauty in life again.

Konig likes domesticity with you. His favorite date is when you cook together and then sit down for a fine meal and ignore all the dishes in the sink. He likes to surprise you at work with cookies and your favorite drink. You love the way he makes the little things matter and makes you happy with the simple things. 

You love them all for the light they’ve returned to your life, and when they ask you to join their pack, you say yes. They’re quick to ditch their shitty base rooms and buy a house for all of you to share. They’re never far away, always eager to make time for you, their love, their omega. 

Their first deployment is hard, but they go out of their way to set you up in comfort. They stock the house with your favorite food and drinks, prepare bags of scented clothes for you to place in your nest, and spend the last night before they leave curled up in your nest with you. It isn’t terrible when they go because you know they love and prioritze you. You also have your job, your volunteering, Kate and her wife, and so many other things that you love to keep busy with. 

The deployment is certainly harder on your mates, and it’s only made harder when they board the helicopter smelling of you, your bite fresh on each of their glands. The fireteam across from them is glaring, hackles raised, hands on their guns. 

When was the last time you prayed? Actually, really, truly prayed? You couldn’t remember, and perhaps now, amidst all the chaos and hellfire, all you could think of was perhaps you should have prayed more. Maybe then when the earth started shaking and the sky opened up to rain fire and ash across those left behind, maybe then you wouldn’t have been here– wouldn’t have had to see the horror and carnage that remained in a world abandoned by God and his legion. Still, there was hope to be had, if the rumors were to be believed. Angels descending from the heavens, finding those worthy amidst the end of days and taking them to what could only be believed to be sanctuary: Paradise above. 

You stopped going to work, after all, what was the point now that a majority of the world’s population had vanished into thin air, and civilization had broken down to the point of riots and general panic? Instead, you stayed barricaded in your home to the best of your ability. Bookshelves and dressers, once containers for precious items and necessities, now turned into a blockade to keep your door shut against the hell that raged outside. You knew that soon you would run low on supplies, namely food and water, and would have to venture out into the kingdom of hell to restock…but that was a problem for later. For now, you were content to stay inside; keep to yourself; and, God willing, avoid drawing any attention from the desperate souls struggling to remain alive. 

Time stopped making sense, nights and days blending into an endless blur of half-light and overwhelming heat or unbearable cold. It was cold when you decided you should settle in for some sleep, piling blankets and clothes on top of you to help keep in the warmth. You still weren’t used to the awful noise from outside, but with as exhausted as you were, sleep would come eventually. 

When was the last time you prayed? Fuck that, when was the last time you spoke to another person; saw another person? You tried to remember the names and faces of your friends as you slowly began to drift off, something you had started doing every night to try and keep sane. It was your own form of counting sheep, and even though you caught yourself making mistakes here and there, it seemed to work well enough. 

Perhaps it was the noise that woke you, if not then it was certainly the light. So bright that burrowing under the mass of covers you had assembled did nothing to block it out, but it was better than looking at it, or anywhere else for that matter. The light was painful, and while it didn’t burn, it hurt in a way you had never felt before. Your brain seemed to ache from it, your mind fraying at the seams from the sheer intensity of its brightness.  

Fear not!

The words seared themselves into your mind. Silent and deafening at the same time. Seeming to drown out every other noise, yet keeping the still silence of your boarded up room intact. When your hearing finally returned and the ache in your brain subsided, you realized you had been screaming, your throat raw from the agony you expressed. 

Fear not! It repeated, again directly into your mind, though not as intensely as before. 

The light seemed to dim, at least to a level your eyes could handle, and you peeked beyond the hem of your cloth fortress. Before you, slipping into your room by passing through the wall as if it weren’t there, was a horrific beauty. A sphere of wheels, lined with countless eyes, shining with such intensity it could surely not have come from this world. No, you doubted that it even came from this universe, especially as it seemed to pass through solid matter without a trace. The golden wheels seemed to spin and rotate independently of one another without being connected to anything at all. Every eye rolled around in a random direction, seeing everything and nothing all at once. Flames that gave off no heat danced along the wheels, taking the shape of large feathered wings that curled and encased the entirety of the thing like a cocoon…or perhaps the wings simply had the appearance of dancing flames. It was impossible to tell, and the longer you stare the more it seemed like both were possible as much as they were impossible. 

Within the center of the revolving, rotating, and spinning wheels was a mass. An undulating culmination of the impossible burning feathers. From within the mass peered out eyes of various sizes at seemingly random intervals. Though it never seemed to look directly at you, there was this unmistakable feeling that its entire focus was fixated on you, as if this being was devoted entirely to your existence alone. The pain in your head eased and gave way to a worrying placidity, as if your fear and fragmented thoughts had been smothered with a thick, warm blanket. 

Fear not! O’ that same gloria rang out in deafening silence. What reason was there to be afraid of such a beautiful thing? A herald of creation, one of the chariots that pulled along God’s throne itself. Yes, fear not, because this was salvation manifest. The shining light of redemption sent down to you, and you alone. To be taken up to the eternal kingdom and know peace and love and life everlasting. 

As you pulled yourself from your cathedral of rags and bed sheets, the eyes began to turn. Some slowly, some quickly, and still some lolling around before coming to land fixated on you. For the first time since its arrival it looked upon you directly, and from the mass of feathered flames that made up its core a single eye, larger than the others emerged. In its abyssal pupil you could see your reflection, marveled as you approached it slowly, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Fear not, and come to know me. Fear not, and come unto eternity. Fear not, and know I am your end.

The thing let out a strange keening sound. You clasped your hands over your ears, but still it found its way inside. You felt your very bones trembling as the foundations of your world fell away. The ground dropped from beneath your feet and the walls torn away with the howling of divine wind. You squeezed your eyes shut trying to block out the maddening sight of the material world being reduced to abstract concepts, though too late. You had already seen it– already felt the way the physical world betrayed you and left you alone amidst nothing with this…this thing. 

When the noise finally subsided and the sensation of everything you had ever known to be solid and true being torn away in a single breath had finally ceased, you felt yourself floating. Suspended in neutral nothing; neither warm nor cold. You dared to open your eyes and lower your hands from your ears. 

It was there, as you knew it would always be. Its eyes upon you as it spread its wings wide, flaming feathers shining lightlessly into the nothingness. A permanent fixture in this empty world, and its attention was solely on you. The incomprehensible mass of feathers and eyes that made up its core shifted as it moved closer– or was it you being pulled close to it? It was impossible to tell in such a shapeless void, still, the distance between you and it began to close. The wheels began to rotate in such a way that you passed through them, coming close to the thing’s core. Its wings folded around itself in impossible ways, the flaming feathers collapsing inwards and wrapping both itself and you in a warm, plush prison of feathers and heatless flames. 

Close now, you reached out your hand, moving felt like being underwater, but you were determined to touch it, to feel it. You only managed to brush against its feathers for the briefest of moments before your hands were wrenched away, pushed above your head, wrists held together by some unknown and intangible force. Dragging you upwards, the creature held you suspended in front of it by your bound wrists, like dangling a piece of meat for some beast to snatch up. 

The keening noise rose again, blossoming from the center of its feathery mass, and you shut your eyes against it, though could no longer cover your ears. The sound washed through you, reverberating in every bone, muscle, and cavity that made up your mortal coil. It was uncomfortable at first, but then…strangely soothing– as if the soundless screech was being tuned just for you, adjusting its pitch and frequency to match you specifically. After a few moments fear began to melt away and it was…pleasing, almost pleasurable in a way. As it continued you somehow knew that this strange noise, this hymn, was meant for you. Specifically for you, as if your very name and soul were woven together in a single gloria. 

Your muscles began to relax, and as you stared into its large central eye, you felt something shift. Movement from the corner of your eye, yet nothing was there except the eternal void which was now your home. Still, in your periphery you could see the movement, like a hand reaching towards you. 

Be honored, child, to be chosen, to be so blessed by our touch. Fear not, for it is decided that your body will be Eden reborn. 

You tried to interpret its words, so oddly cryptic was it when it spoke, but your thoughts were interrupted by a touch along your cheek. A hand– its hand, unseen but very clearly felt, stroked against your skin with such a delicate touch. It traced down your cheek and lightly danced along your jawline, moving under towards your chin where it lifted your face upwards. Unable to fight the unseen hand, you found yourself gazing into the abyss above, as you felt it gran your jaw with a strong, demanding grip. Tilting your head from side to side you could feel the gaze of legion burning into your skin, as if it were examining you. 

Another touch, this one lower, tracing along the neck of your shirt. You knew that if you looked down you would see nothing, still you could feel it all the same. It gripped the fabric of your shirt and with a sudden, forceful motion pulled away the cloth as though it were simply paper. 

You let out a gasp, shocked by the sudden forceful exposure only to have the grip on your jaw and wrists tighten, as if in warning as well as a show of its strength. Before you had time to speak another touch along your waist caused you to falter. It grabbed the waistline and, just as with your shirt, tore away the clothing with remarkable ease. There were four distinct places where you could feel its touch. Squeezing your wrists, holding your jaw, dancing along your collarbone, and now gripping your waist with what you could only assume was a hand, though the size and amount of fingers made you glad it remained invisible to you. 

Panic began to set in. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, but as you tried to struggle, to pull your hands away and kick your legs, you felt more grip you– grabbing at your ankles, your thighs, your waist, your throat, your shoulders…so many monstrous hands holding you still, making you endure the examination. A scream built in your throat as you fought against it, struggling to pull free any part of yourself, but before the sound could pierce the air a heavy hand clapped over your lips, smothering the scream before it had a chance to fly free. 

Fear not. It repeated, its unsettling amount of fingers and hands squeezing you tighter; pulling at you, exploring you. The hand on your throat squeezing, its many fingers digging into your soft skin causing you to gasp for breath. Tugging at the grip on your wrists you fought it all the while, though it seemed wholly unfazed by your feeble attempts. You could feel your heart beating frantically against your ribs, and worse still a wave of shame as your body betrayed you, the heat between your thighs becoming too prevalent to ignore. 

Almost as if it knew, the thing pried your legs apart just as easy as it had torn away your clothing. Its gaze (or at least part of it) drinking in the sight of your undeniably wet panties. You felt a blush burn through your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut, a single sob causing you to jolt, though the sound died in your covered mouth like the scream before it. You could feel its hands crawling up your thighs, numerous and uncountable fingers stroking and squeezing the soft, sensitive flesh. Before you had time to really appraise the situation you felt more hands tearing at your camisole, ripping away the fabric with ease and exposing your chest to its wandering, piercing gaze. 

Fear. Not. For the seeds of our future shall be sewn. You will be known as Eden; as Mother; as the Willow of Life.  It seemed to growl within your mind, the words, once almost musical now seemed…discordant, unhinged…desperate. Its eyes went wild, jittering back and forth as it focused on everything and nothing at once. 

Oh no, fear was there, most certainly. Your insides churned as you thought of its words. Garden, seeds, mother…tears burned your eyes as the pieces started to connect in your mind and what it intended to do. You tried to beg, plead with it. Words and screams snuffed out by its powerful grip on your mouth. You could feel its hands on your breasts, groping them forcefully. The idle thought struck you of the blooming purple blossoms that would appear as sore reminders of its touch. Such a strange thought to have, but the mind does strange things under duress. Suddenly the sensation on your breasts changed as the thing pressed what you could only assume were its palms firm against your nipples. The flat surface of the unseen hands seemed to churn and split, as if a pair of lips were opening there. You tried to pull away from the unusual sensation, but against its iron grip movement was but a distant memory of a freedom you once had. The strange mouths enveloped your nipples, unseen tongues and teeth and…feathers? Perhaps, at least that’s what it felt like, began to caress them, pull on them. Each action causing a shameful, unwanted throb to your pussy, further soaking your panties– which were by no doubt practically see through at this point with the amount of arousal that leaked from your twitching and anxious cunt. 

You felt a pressure on your thighs, the being using its hands to push your legs apart further, almost painfully so. Tears streamed down your face as you attempted to thrash against it to no avail. It began to shift, its feathers of lightless flames ruffling and twisting as it seemed to bristle, its eyes lolling around aimlessly. You could sense it before you felt it, something massive between your thighs, obscene and perverse. 

How long has it been since you last prayed? You couldn’t remember, but in this moment you began anew. Begging to God for mercy.

God? Fear not. God is dead. Abandoned us all long ago. We are God now. The Father rots as the Mother is chosen! There was hate as it spoke to you, such heavy, burning hate. You felt it, and where it touched your skin it seemed to burn and sting as if this thing could turn emotions into sensations. 

It was then it dawned on you, through the flood of emotions and its reactions to your prayers. This…thing was an angel. One of God’s first children and holy host. Though at this moment, nothing seemed holy about this creature. It seemed crazed, so far removed from its former grace and purpose that all glory was replaced with madness. 

You snapped out of your thoughts as you felt something press against your soaked panties. Though you couldn’t see it, couldn’t even try with how you were being held, you knew what it was. Screaming into its hand, your struggle found renewed vigor, desperate to pull away, to escape; however, it was useless. The beast was too strong, not to mention the sheer endless amount of hands it seemed to have. You felt the pressure against your panties grow more forceful, the blunt, rounded shape of its tip confirming the fear of what lay in store for you. 

Without further warning or preparation, the Angel pulled you down, its thick rod smashing against your panties. With its strength and unyielding rigidity of its unseen cock, it managed to push its tip into your cunt, the fabric of your panties clinging to it as it stretched you slightly. The storm of panic raging within you intensified as it became clear this monstrosity was about to take you through your panties. 

You attempted to bite at the invisible hand over your mouth, though it was impossible, not only were you unable to even open your mouth, but as you felt your lips move against the palm, it seemed to shift itself in such a way that attempting to bite it would prove impossible. Twisting and pulling your legs, trying your best to close them was just as futile. The burning stinging sensation you felt when its anger flared subsided, changing into a strangle, warm tingle. The more you struggled, the more intense the sensation became, as if it was enjoying the futile effort you put forth. 

Once more it pulled you down onto its Angelic cock, pressing harder into your entrance. You could feel its arousal straining against the thin, wet material of your panties, slowly gaining entrance to your cunt. Then there was a sudden tear, you swear you could hear the fabric being shred as you felt the large appendage sink deep into your core. Another wail was smothered in your throat as your eyes rolled back from the overwhelming mix of searing pain and shameful pleasure. 

The Angel shuddered, its large, inhuman hands pulling and squeezing at your body. You swear you could feel claws dig into your soft skin, and what could only be described as more mouths biting and sucking where its palms pressed against you. The burning, thick cock stuffed into your human cunt throbbed to a strange rhythm as it withdrew from you just a few inches before being slammed back against your cervix. You could feel your shredded panties clinging to his shaft, scraping your insides as it stretched your inner walls. 

You had given up trying to scream at this point, your muscles giving out as that last thrust almost knocked the wind from you. Teeth brought searing pain to your nipples, and shamefully caused you to clench around the Angel’s massive dick. You felt a noise rumble in your throat, though not a scream, a moan. A vocal admission of desire and acceptance of what was happening. 

It began to move more, faster, its cock pistoning in and out of you with an eager, primal need. Each pass of it caused your cunt to stretch uncomfortably, yet with a strange satisfaction– the animalistic desire to be filled, to be bred. The twin mouths on your nipples began to suck, pulling the little buds of flesh into a matching warm, velvety embrace. Heat flushed through your body, and you were all too aware of the liquid arousal that dripped from between your thighs– a glistening reminder of your body’s own betrayal. The creature sensed it, the reluctant pleasure that slithered through your core and blossomed outwards. Digging your nails into your palms you tried to fight it, tried to hold the waves of carnal delight at bay. You didn’t want this, didn’t ask for this…yet, to your disdain and chagrin, your body came alive at its touch. 

Your skin began to heat where it touched you, searing warmth spiraling out and tangling with your own. It brought forth new sensations, unnamed feelings you had never before experienced, as if the Angel was sharing its own sensations with you. Your legs began to shudder in its iron grip, and you could feel your cunt clenching and twitching around large cock it continued to fuck you with. Through its touch you could sense how tight you were, could feel how soft your body felt in its hands and mouths. 

The sensation began to change, heat gave way to a fluttering feeling. Every part of your body felt as though you were in a storm of feathers; each nerve bursting with sudden and fleeting feelings of pleasure, but these feelings were not your own. Horror set in as you realized what was happening, the creature’s cock began to swell and throb harder in your core. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world, to retreat within and hide from the maelstrom of pleasure and pain and emotions, both your own and the sensations inexplicably shared by the monstrous Angel. Though try as you might, it didn’t stop from feeling every gloriously painful inch of its dick as it began to spasm and convulse inside you, the burning hot cum filling your insides with every throb and twitch. 

The Angel’s orgasm pushed your body into full blown betrayal as your own, reluctant orgasm blossomed within, heat spilling out to every part of your body as you contracted painfully around the massive rod still inside you. You wished desperately to cling to something, have anything to hold onto, but amidst the storm of pleasure and emotion you had nothing but the bite of your nails into your own palms. 

You felt a lurch, like your stomach dropping when you miss a stair going down steps, and the sudden rush of cold wind dancing over your sweat drenched body. There was something soft beneath you, lumpy and awkward, yet still soft. Eyes still shut, you focused on your breathing, fighting through the storm to find a moment of calm. Realizing how tired you truly were, how ragged and exhausted your body was from the carnal abuse it had just endured, you found yourself slipping and drifting into sleep….