Angel (Daryl Dixion x Reader)

~80~

You didn't know how long you were out cold. All you knew was you couldn't feel anything in your body. Just this uncomfortable cold, numbness that covered your body like an unbearable weight. Then the weight shifts, pooling in the center of your body as it crushes down on your chest. Making you feel like you were drowning- no, you felt like you were fucking suffocating. Air- Air! You needed AIR! Your eyes snap open, back arching up off whatever the hell you were laying on from the effort to suck in a single, quick and struggled, deep breath. Immediately coughing it harshly back out, along with a good amount of stale tasting blood. Old enough that it had long clotted as it comes flying up into your mouth which makes your body instinctively wrench over. Ripping through who ever the hell was holding your body down with a tight grip. You roll and fall right off whatever the hell you were laying on. Your body hitting the cold hard floor a second later as you cough and puke up a good amount of chunky, nasty ass, dark clotted blood. After you wretched up everything you'd swallowed, you sucked in a few shaky, heaving gasps for air before forcing yourself up onto your, still static tingling, trembling hands and knees. Trying so hard to make your head and vision stop spinning like you'd just taken about three hundred rounds in the local carnival's tilt-a-whirl ride. Trying to piece together just what the hell had happened, where you were, and why you felt like you'd been drugged to holy fucking Hell and back. Old, muddied up, black leather lace up boots catch your eyes sight first, and you force your gaze and head up. Eyes sliding up the ripped, black jeans and black t shirt, to find a man starring down at you in utter shell shock. WOW- He's fucking model gorgeous.. You grunt as you force yourself up right a little more, still resting on your shaken knees before him. Your eyes assessing him entirely as your body shakes from the shock of whatever had just happened. From beneath his black shirt he'd so obviously ripped the sleeves off of, you could tell he was built like a fucking brick house. Cut, strong ass looking arms and broad shoulders. Dark shaggy hair that is ever so slightly curls to frame that beautiful, almost ghostly paled face. His crystal blue eyes staring down at you with such somber anguish mixed with utter disbelief. The expression etched across his handsome, muse worthy face was equally baffled as it was somewhat.. relived despite the genuine disbelief? Over all he was fucking floored more than anything else. Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before a metallic sheen catches in your peripheral. Your eyes quickly, very briefly, slide over to find a blood crusted gun lying on an equally blood soaked gurney. This brief discovery makes your heart immediately bottom out your ass. Your eyes widen ever so slightly as they snap back to this huge ass, beautiful man. Who was still staring at you, completely speechless and flabbergasted.

He shakes his head, seemingly like he wanted to speak, yet words wouldn't come up out of his mouth. So he goes to step to you instead. His hand moving to the gurney, as if to steady his seemingly shaken step, or to subtly grab that dangerous looking pistol. The over load of panicked adrenaline that flashes through your body next had your still half numbed legs scrambling the rest of the way up off the floor. "No- Angel, STOP!" he roars as you fall into the door, and bust through it and out of the room, damn near tumbling out of it. Thanking god it wasn't locked or you'd of bounced off it and slap into him. The cold bite of the air on your skin has your eyes snapping down. Where the fuck was your shirt!? Why the hell were you wrapped up like a fucking mummy!? Then your memory hits you like a full speed train- oh fuck! Jess- The plane crash.. Holy fucking shit!? "WAIT!!" The man roars from behind you. His deep voice sending a wave of terror down your spine when you glance over your shoulder and find him full on sprinting after you. Chasing after you. He wasn't your military, not dressed like a civilian, not when your instinctive logic screamed he wasn't. Not when everything in you screamed something was.. wrong. Even despite the southern twang in his gravely voice that told you he WAS in fact American. This place you know ran through was mostly certainly not a fucking Military hospital, and you would not fucking be captured or held hostage again. They were gonna have to shoot your ass and, undo whatever the fuck they did to put you back together again. That was if they wanted to catch you that badly. You bust through another set of doors, and hang an immediate left down another hall way. Your boots skidding against the polished tile floor with a screech. Fuck this place was well kept for being in the middle of some god damn dessert. Which means- oh fucking shit.. they must of taken you in DEEP this time. Deeper than last time. Which meant they not only wanted information- they wanted you. Period. Dead or fucking alive they wanted you. Especially if they'd taken the time and resources to save your life. They wanted you and had taken that opportunity to grab you when you were bleeding out and half delusional. In a split second you'd decided, if they wanted you so fucking badly, it was gonna have to be dead. A grunt is forced out of your lungs and throat when you slam into the wall. Only to be briefly baffled that didn't jar your freshly wrapped wounds enough to put you on the fucking ground in searing pain. It didn't even really knock the wind out of you, which it definitely should have. Your body was just... numb still. Almost uncomfortably numb. They must of drugged the absolute holy shit out of you when you were down. Not as well as they'd thought, considering your pushing off that wall and breaking into a full sprint once more. Maybe it was just the adrenaline- or rather noradrenaline coursing through your veins at the instinct to survive not matter what over coming your body. You didn't have time to ponder your simultaneous fight and flight reaction. Or even care really about what after effects would plague your so obviously very fucked up physical state after it all wore off.