#MINOR TYPO IN TAGS GONNA KILL SOMEONE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 5 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XIII.

GIF by alexturner

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Literally just Jolene by the iconic Dolly Parton.

WORD COUNT: ~7.7k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: angst :p, OFC lowkey being a brat and javi not tolerating that shit, some horniness to satiate the masses, alcohol consumption, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: for the sake of the plot we're just gonna pretend that before he cheats exist at this point of time okay? okay! anywhooo we're so close to getting to the fucking fluff of this fic... our couple deserves some semblance of PEACE and HAPPINESS am i right? but that sweet, sweet angst must come first in order for the pay off to be gr8 <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma begins her parade of amends with her boss at the library, profusely apologizing for being fickle which typically isn’t like her. She’s been so caught up in August and his wistful musings that it momentarily had her acting out of character.

Fortunately, Olsen accepts her apology almost as quickly as the words tumble from her lips. He reassures her that it’s okay and that what he really needs is for her to begin logging books into the new computer system they’re implementing.

So that’s exactly what she does. She situates herself behind the circulation desk and spends her entire shift typing away at the clunky keyboard, surrounded by carts stacked with books. She’s so engrossed in her task that she doesn’t even notice when Sloane walks in, a giant smile lighting up her face.

“Hey, doll.”

Her eyes flicker up to meet her friend’s and she feels a tinge of frustration at her presence. The last time they were together, she had tried to convince her to kill someone and then got pissed when Paloma didn’t go through with it.

“Hey,” she replies simply, her voice lacking its usual warmth and quickly returning her attention to the computer, muttering under her breath at how sluggishly it’s operating.

She hears a sigh, and then Sloane is leaning forward against the desk, tilting her head to the side and pouting. “Are you still mad at me?”

A snort escapes her, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yes and no. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m feelin’ real conflicted.”

Sloane’s cadence is lighter as she asks, “What can I do to smooth things over?”

“Give me the space I told August I needed.”

Their gazes lock, and Sloane’s shoulders slump, the weight of her words settling in.

“Why on god’s green earth are you wearing a scarf in the middle of the summer?” Paloma can’t help but ask, eyeing the flimsy material around her neck.

“That’s actually why I stopped by. I was hopin’ you weren’t so mad at me so I could tell you ‘bout the amazin’ fuckin’ lay I got last night.”

At this, Paloma rolls her eyes and flips open the next book, meticulously scanning it for imperfections. Leave it to her so-called best friend to reach out just to brag about getting laid.

Not to check in on her or apologize for being a giant cunt back in Louisiana.

She decides to pacify her, hoping that feigning interest in her love life will get her out of the library without the awkwardness that would come if she just outright told her to leave.

“Really?” Her tone drips with forced enthusiasm. “Tell me all about it.”

Sloane launches into her story overdramatically, obviously messing with her, but she still nods along, her mind only half-engaged. She silently prays for the conversation to end soon, eager to return to the relative peace of her book-logging task.

“Alright, quit beatin’ around the bush. Who was it?”

The scarf is slipped off, revealing her marked-up neck, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Christ almighty, Slo, who did you sleep with? Dracula?” Various purple splotches litter the other girl’s skin, and she wonders how long it’s going to take for those suckers to heal.

Sloane giggles, smirking as she shows off her neck. “No. But that woulda been one hell of a story. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night.”

Time stops. The air stills, and her motions halt entirely. Sloane continues talking, but all Paloma can hear is the blood rushing in her ears and the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat at the news.

I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night.

She feels like she’s been punched in the gut, the wind knocked straight out of her. She tries her hardest not to let her body language reflect the heartbreak that surges through her.

Javier Peña. Of all people. Shock and something she can’t quite place thud in her chest viscously. Forcing herself to focus, she tries to catch the tail end of Sloane’s story, but her mind is a mess.

She shouldn’t care, but the problem is that she does. Despite things between her and Javi being a done deal. They’ve both made their intentions clear and it is better to pretend like the other doesn’t exist until he leaves town.

So why is she so hurt at the fact that her best friend had gotten a taste of the man she’s supposed to be over? Why does she feel that nasty green monster slithering its way through her body, into her chest, and up her throat?

“You what?” She interrupts, not even listening to what she said after.

Sloane’s voice trails off, her eyes widening slightly at Paloma’s sudden intensity. “I, uh, slept with Javi,” she repeats, feigning confusion.

The envy and betrayal coil tighter around her lungs, making it hard to breathe. She forces herself to look at her ‘best friend’ and she sees the hidden excitement in her eyes. It only deepens her ache.

“Why him?” Paloma asks, the words tinged with a vulnerability she can’t hide.

Sloane shrugs, once more pretending to be oblivious to the turmoil she’s purposefully caused. “It just happened, P. We were talkin’ after work, ‘n one thing led to another… I figured you wouldn’t mind, considerin’ you’re with August now and hate the officer’s guts. I was jus’ havin’ some fun. No harm in that.”

No harm in that. Nodding slowly, a tight smile forces its way on her lips, “Well, I hope it was worth it,” she says strained but steady. How badly does she want to verbally eviscerate her and drag her across the floor by the crown of her hair.

The keyboard keys feel foreign beneath her fingers as she attempts to return to the task at hand. She knows she’ll have to confront her feelings eventually, but for now, all she can do is focus on her work to try and keep the pieces of her shattered heart from showing.

“Look, Slo, I’m happy to hear you’ve been keepin’ busy,” wince, “but I’ve got a lot to go through here ‘n I would like to be left alone to get it done. If you don’t mind.”

There’s a beat of silence as Sloane studies her, and Paloma pretends not to feel the weight of her stare. If she keeps looking at her like this, she will burst into angry, frustrated tears.

“Right… right. I’ll leave ya to it, doll face.” She taps her fingers against the counter, then adds softly, “And… just so you know, I am sorry ‘bout losin’ my shit that night in Louisiana. Wasn’t very fair to you.”

What isn’t fair to me is for you to sleep with the guy I cried on your shoulder about for weeks.

“Thanks. I’ll see you,” she replies curtly, trying not to let her hands shake as she reaches for another book.

Slo finally leaves, and she waits for her to be fully out of the building before letting out a heavy sigh. The ache intensifies, weighing down on her poor heart. She stares at the screen, the words blurring as tears threaten to spill over but she forces herself to keep typing.

The quiet of the library is almost oppressive, amplifying the commotion inside her. She can still see the image of Sloane’s marked neck, a painful reminder of what transpired between them. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the pain just doesn’t subside.

She can’t afford to break down here. Not now. Not yet. She’ll deal with the aftermath later, when she’s alone.

After thirty agonizing minutes, she realizes that she simply can’t. All she can visualize is Javier and Sloane together in the most intimate way possible. His lips all over her, her hands on him. Was she a better kisser than her? Had Javier enjoyed being inside Sloane more than being inside her?

Standing abruptly, she smooths out her sundress and goes to track down Olsen, finding him tucked away in the science fiction section of the library.

“I’m sorry to do this,” she begins, already cringing at the request she’s about to make, “but I’m just not feelin’ good. I feel nauseous. Like I’m about to vomit.” It’s not technically a lie; with every blink, there’s an image of Sloane bent over for Javier, and it makes her emotionally sick.

Olsen sighs, giving her a look. “How far into the logging did you get?”

She answers, and he agrees to let her leave, telling her he hopes she feels better and to let him know whether she’d be able to come in for her next shift.

Grateful for his kindness but also feeling guilty about how unreliable she’s been, Paloma thanks him before gathering her things and leaving the building.

The warm summer weather contrasts sharply with the coldness that’s crept over her entirely. She walks slowly, each step feeling heavy, her mind racing with thoughts she wishes she could escape.

Finding a quiet spot in a nearby park, Paloma sits on a bench and takes a deep breath. She watches the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze, the world moving on obliviously around her.

She just needs a moment of goddamn peace.

It’s serene here. Children laugh and play in the distance, couples stroll hand in hand, and birds chirp merrily in the trees. But all Paloma can think about is the betrayal she feels, the jealousy that gnaws at her, and the deep hurt of knowing that the man she still harbors feelings for has slept with her best friend.

She really shouldn’t be so worked up over this. While she and August have never explicitly put a label on their relationship, they’re together. Hell, she’s fucked him more times than anyone else she’s been with.

Then why is it that she’s so pressed about Javier, a single man, hooking up with Sloane, a single woman?

It’s because of the tangled mess that is her connections to both of them. How she had been vulnerable with Sloane about her conflicting feelings towards him, and how Sloane had always been there to reassure her that he was nothing more than a piece of shit manwhore and that she deserved better.

So why go and sleep with him?! Paloma groans, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palm as she balls her fists out of anger.

She contemplates whether she wants to cry it out at home or by the abandoned railroad tracks. The answer is neither, because before she knows it, she’s at The Whiskey Fox ordering a shot of tequila.

“Stranger danger,” Tammy, eldest of the three sisters who own the bar, approaches her with a sardonic simper on her face.

Paloma just waves her off, her heartbreak evident as she takes the shot and immediately orders another, earning a surprised look from the older woman.

“Woah there, sugar. What’s goin’ on? You hardly ever drink, let alone do back-to-back shots.”

She just shrugs, staying silent as she proceeds to shoot the drink, not even grimacing as it burns down her throat, then reaching for a lime wedge to bite into. Tammy watches her with a mix of concern and curiosity, leaning against the bar, her maternal instincts kicking in. “Why don’t ya tell me what happened? Might help to get it off your chest.”

For a moment, Paloma considers it. Considers unloading it all onto this poor woman but she remains silent, twirling the empty shot glass between her fingers.

“Oh, c’mon now, Paloma. S’bad enough that you’ve ghosted us for the past month. Don’t give us the silent treatment too. What’d we do to you, darlin’?”

Rolling her shoulders, she keeps her gaze fixed on the empty shot glass in front of her. “Y’all didn’t do anythin’,” her voice is a little hoarse due to how dry her mouth feels, and there’s a pang of guilt in her stomach at hearing how her absence has affected the people she cares about. “I’ve just been dealin’ with a lot.”

She let her friends lead her down a fantastical path, and while it was exciting and thrilling at first, she’s realizing that it shifted her into a defiant headspace she wasn’t used to and didn’t like being in. When did everything get so complicated? What happened to just basking in the attention of two handsome men and enjoying a summer romance?

Now she’s caught in the middle of something so convoluted. Her mother’s mysterious past, the uncertainty of her own future, the heartbreak she continues to suffer at the hands of Javier Peña, and the gut-wrenching betrayal of her so-called best friend. She feels overwhelmed by the severity of it all, like she’s sinking in a never-ending pit.

Fuck, she needs another drink. She goes to order it, but Tammy blocks her. “Okay, so spill. The tequila is not goin’ t’ make it any better, baby, trust me. I’m speakin’ from experience.”

Paloma snorts, shaking her head, exasperation bubbling inside her. She just wants to numb herself with alcohol, to drown out the images of Javier and Sloane together. “Just guy problems, Tam. Now will you please let me drink my sorrows away? I’ll deal with the consequences and the hangover later.”

Tammy contemplates whether it’s a good idea to let her keep drinking, but ultimately she allows it. Everyone goes through this at least once. Everyone learns from experiences like this in their own way.

The older woman then nods understandingly and pours her the shot, this time setting the bottle down next to her. “Alright, but don’t overdo it. We don’t need you passin’ out on us.”

Paloma gives a weak smile and continues to drink, the tequila burning a path down her throat, momentarily granting her relief from the uncomfortableness she’s been wallowing in.

As the night wears on, the bar fills with the usual crowd, but she remains in her own bubble of despair, getting drunker by the minute. The lively chatter and clinking glasses become a distant hum.

She wants to be able to confide in someone about the root of her conflictions, but she knows that if she were to spill all the details, including the outrageous backstory of her mother, it would be met with jarring skepticism and criticism. Tammy would probably look at her like she was crazy and her father would probably have her secretly lobotomized for speaking such blasphemous ‘lies’ about his wife and her mother.

He wouldn’t actually, but she’s drunk and her mind is going to the extremes.

Tammy keeps an eye on her, occasionally checking in and she appreciates it, even if she can’t bring herself to say it out loud. She’s not sure how she’ll face tomorrow, but right now, she’s content to let the alcohol do its thing and forget, if only for a little while.

There’s a reason why people say not to drink on an empty stomach, and Paloma is feeling the effects smack her square in the jaw. Her vision is hazy, her movements sluggish. At least she’s not hurting as much as she had been when she came in.

It’s well into the night now; the dim lights of the bar cast shadows on the faces of the crowd around her. The bottle Tammy had set in front of her is almost gone, so she drinks the remaining tequila straight from it, not caring about appearances or what the town gossips might say if they were to see her now.

With her veins coursing with liquid courage, Paloma hops off the barstool, wobbling a bit due to her inebriated state, and makes her way to the stage. No matter how tough things get, she can always count on music to lift her spirits.

That’s another thing she’s been neglecting— her music, her passion. So much for complaining that she didn’t have any inspiration to write new songs. Now she’s drowning in it, struggling to stay afloat.

Tammy’s eyes follow her the entire way, concern etched on her face as she bites her lip, contemplating whether or not she should let her go up there and potentially make a fool of herself in her drunken state.

She reaches the stage, her heart pounding against her chest. Shuffling through the available songs on the karaoke machine, she stops when she finds the one that she’s looking for. She grabs the microphone with a shaky hand, the spotlight harsh on her face.

The bar quiets down, curious eyes watching her every move.

“Hey everyone,” she slurs slightly, giggling drunkenly. “S’been a while since I’ve been up here ‘n I apologize for my absence,” she hiccups, “but tonight, m’gonna sing a song to make myself feel better.”

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself. The familiar chords start playing through the speakers then she begins to sing; her voice fueled by emotion and tequila.

♫

Tammy decides it’s wise for her to phone the sheriff’s department, specifically asking for Javier to come by.

He only has ten minutes left on his shift and doesn’t want to get caught up dealing with another drunken idiot, so he almost sends one of the deputies but then she mentions Paloma and how shitfaced she is.

Immediately, he’s reaching for his keys.

“I don’t want Romeo seein’ her like this. Kinda my fault, to be honest, but who am I to stop a young girl from drowning her man problems in tequila? Anyhow, any chance ya can take her home?”

Man problems? Had August done something to her? His nostrils flair at the thought of him hurting her.

As if he hadn’t hurt her tenth fold.

Javier arrives in record time, urgency evident as he busts through the doors of the bar. Despite his entrance, no one seems to pay him any attention; all eyes are fixed on her as she stands on stage, clearly intoxicated yet still captivating the room.

His jaw tenses as he beelines over to the bar where Tammy is already looking at him expectantly.

“How long has she been here?”

“‘Bout four hours now. At least she took it slow. S’probably why she’s like this,” Tammy nods her head towards the stage, handing him Paloma’s car keys, and Javier can’t help but glance over too.

Her voice echoes through the bar and the words flow from her lips as a cathartic release of all the pent-up feelings she’s been carrying. There’s a plethora of mixed reactions coming from the audience, but she isn’t really performing for them.

To her, she’s in her bedroom with her curling wand in hand, belting out to her favorite song.

Despite her initial nerves and the alcohol clouding her senses, she finds solace in the music. It’s her therapy, her way of expressing what words alone can’t capture.

By the time she finishes, there’s a mix of applause and quiet murmurs in the bar. She sways again, catching herself on the microphone stand with a tipsy grin. Javier’s heart clenches at the sight.

As she steps down from the stage, her eyes lock onto him leaning against the counter with Tammy. Dread grips her heart like a vise, her breath catching in her throat. The tequila swirling in her stomach threatens to come back up. Without hesitation, she changes direction abruptly, veering towards the restroom at the back of the bar.

The door slams shut behind her, and she leans heavily against it, the cold metal offering a momentary reprieve.

No, no, no. I can’t see him now. Not like this.

Paloma rushes to the sink, splashing water on her face in a desperate attempt to clear her mind. Deciding that she won’t face him, she makes her escape through the small window near the ceiling.

It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life, each second feeling like an eternity. She hasn’t come out and Javier is unable to wait any longer. He strides purposefully across the room towards the restroom, twisting the door handle open with a sense of urgency, expecting to find Paloma inside.

But the stalls are empty, the restroom devoid of any sign of her presence except for the open window with a torn piece of her sundress caught on a protruding piece of plastic.

“Goddammit,” He curses under his breath, pissed yet not surprised that she had fled. He rushes out of the restroom, sparing a quick explanation to Tammy before bolting into the parking lot. The engine of his cruiser roars to life as he pulls out onto the road.

She, despite being piss drunk, managed to move swiftly through the shadows outside, her torn dress fluttering in the night breeze. She kept to the alleys and back streets at first, away from the main roads where he might expect her to flee.

She isn’t far from the bar when he finds her. Perhaps half a mile down a dark, deserted road flanked by endless crop fields. The night offers no solace, no streetlights to illuminate her path, only the distant glow of his cruiser drawing closer.

He could really lay into her, scream at how reckless and fucking dangerous it is for her to be walking around aimlessly at night. It’s not like there’s an active killer lurking about, targeting girls like her.

The blue and red lights slice through the darkness, casting an eerie glow around her stumbling figure as she trudges along the roadside.

“Get in the car,” Javier’s voice carries through the rolled down passenger window as he slowly drives beside her.

Paloma ignores him, determined to keep moving despite the plea. She doesn’t know where she’s headed, all she knows is that she doesn’t want to be around him. All she’ll see the second she looks into his eyes are images of him balls deep in her best friend.

The reminder has her clenching her jaw against the flood of disarray threatening to overwhelm her, straightening her posture in a futile attempt to regain her composure. The alcohol in her system blurs her vision and makes her head spin, but she continues to march obstinately along the empty road.

“I said get. In. The. Car.” Javier’s voice booms through the PA system now, sharp and authoritative, having her flinch at its suddenness. She rolls her eyes, refusing to acknowledge him, her gaze fixed ahead as if the darkness holds the answers to all her turmoil.

In response, she simply raises her middle finger, a gesture dripping with contempt. Javier’s patience for her insubordination is wearing really fucking thin.

“Last warning. If not, I will get out and put you in here my damn self,” His tone crackles with restrained anger, the lines of his face drawn tight with exasperation.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

There it goes, his patience. He forcefully slams the mouthpiece of the speaker back into place before speeding up along the deserted road and haphazardly blocking the path ahead, his vehicle jolting to a stop with a gravelly skid.

He jumps out of his seat, the door swinging open as he rounds the car to approach her with determined hastiness, pissed that he has to deal with her immature ass right now.

Paloma’s instinctive flight response has her sprinting into the vast open field, her heart pounding in sync with her rapid footsteps. The tall grass brushes against her legs and she squints in an attempt to see ahead on this moonless night. All she’s focused on is getting as far away from him as possible.

Javier curses loudly and immediately chases after her through the uneven terrain. He thought he left this chasing shit back in Colombia.

Despite her intoxicated state, her desperation fuels her speed, making her a bit of a challenging target. But when she stumbles over her boots ever so slightly, he seizes the opportunity.

In a swift motion, his arm snakes around her waist, yanking her towards him before deftly hoisting her over his shoulder. Paloma squeals as he straight up manhandles her, her fists hammering against his back while she squirms in his grasp. “Put. Me. Down. You. Asshole,” she seethes between blows, each strike punctuated by a grunt from him as she hits sore spots on his lower back.

“You ran off like a fucking child,” he snaps back while stalking towards his car, irritated as all hell. The urge to land a harsh spank against the back of her thighs is there but he shows some restraint.

He glances around, relieved that the deserted stretch of road spares them from prying eyes. “Don��t do anything stupid, or I will cuff you,” he warns sternly, setting her down cautiously but keeping a firm grip on her arm.

She pushes at his chest, stumbling backwards but she catches herself, sticking her hands out to keep him from steadying her. “Don’t. Leave me the hell alone, I’m tryin’ to get home.”

“And I’m trying to make that happen. Let me drive you, you’re fucked up.”

“I’m not, and if anyone is fucked up here it’s you, you fucking dickhead,” she retorts with a bite, her words laced with venom and alcohol-fueled bravado.

Javier exhales heavily, his patience wearing thin yet again as he struggles to reason with her. “Quit being ridiculous, Paloma.” He urges, frustration simmering beneath his somewhat controlled exterior.

“Ridiculous?!” She rolls her eyes dramatically, a gust of wind tousling her hair and she angrily tucks it behind her ears. “I wanna walk home. Away from you.” she slurs, her determination punctuated by a sudden hiccup and point of her finger.

A snarky reply of his own is on the tip of his tongue but she interrupts before he can spit it out.

“I am more than capable, ‘n I’ll prove it by walkin’ a straight line while sayin’ the alphabet backwards,” The challenge in her eyes is unmistakable as she takes a few steps back.

Javier can’t help but chuckle dryly, reluctant amusement coloring his expression. He leans casually against the cruiser, arms crossed as he watches her attempt the sobriety test she’s proposed.

“Z... y... x...” Paloma begins, her attempt at reciting the alphabet faltering from the start. Her footsteps are uneven, her balance wavering with each syllable. “W... v... u...”

He shakes his head in mild disbelief, his frustration momentarily overshadowed by the absurdity of the situation.

“A.” She punctuates the letter when she reaches the end of her recitation attempt. She looks up at him, now much closer, with an insolent glint in her eyes despite the undeniable signs of intoxication.

He just raises his brows in amusement.

“Told ya.” she challenges, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips. “Sober as a nun.”

Javier reaches for the breathalyzer on his belt, holding it up between them as he turns it on.

“You’re going to blow into this,” he begins with an authoritative tone, “and if it lights up green then you’re good to do whatever you want. If it’s red, you’re goin’ to quit fucking around and get your pretty ass in the car.”

Paloma snorts, “No way. This is just some perverted trick so you can see my lips wrap around it and pretend it’s your cock––”

His hand shoots out to cup her jaw, thick fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her lips to purse together.

“Nena, you’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on you.” He tuts at her and her eyes widen, pussy quivering, “It’s gonna get you in trouble.”

He brings her closer by her face, smelling the alcohol on her breath, and places the plastic tip against her puckered lips, “Blow it.”

His grip loosens enough for her to do as she’s told, and her lips encircle the hard plastic. This feels charged with an intimacy that weakens her knees, and she watches as Javier’s eyes drown with lust; their usual golden glint now gone.

The second it blinks red, he smirks and lets go of her face. As the tip is pulled out from between her lips, a thin trail of saliva comes with it which has him biting his tongue to suppress a groan. His cock stirs at the sight.

“In the car. Now.”

“No!” She pushes away from him, slapping the damn breathalyzer out of his hand and watching as it breaks against the asphalt, “I’d rather walk on glass barefoot than get in the car with you. M’goin’ back to the bar and callin’ my boyfriend to come pick me up!” The emphasis on boyfriend is said with the intent to piss Javier off but she doesn’t gloat in his reaction as she turns sharply and begins to walk away in the opposite direction.

“Puta madre…” It lands exactly as she intended for it to, the spark of jealousy in his chest having him leap forward, expertly pinning both of her wrists against her lower back with one hand while the other takes a hold of her shoulder, guiding her over to his car.

“You asshole!”

“Yeah, how many times are you gonna fuckin’ remind me, querida?”

She’s bent at the waist on the hood of his cruiser, the engine that’s still running leaving the surface warm as her chest gets pressed down onto it. Her ripped dress rises up revealing the curve of her ass to him.

Javier is fully hard as he reaches for his cuffs, clasping them over her wrists and she gasps when she feels the cool metal come in contact with her blazing skin. He presses his bulge against her ass and she whimpers at the pressure of him so close to her throbbing core.

Grabbing ahold of her shoulder again, he brings her up so that her back is flush against his chest, both of them heaving in unison.

“Told you that little mouth of yours would get you in fucking trouble.” He mutters into her ear, feeling the softness of her hair against his face as he takes in a deep breath of the coconut scent of her shampoo. His entire being is pulsating for her, craving to feel any part that he can.

Paloma is dizzy with arousal, hatred, and alcohol; feeling him all over except where she needs him most. Inside her weeping cunt that’s begging to get wrecked. She despises him for making her feel this way, especially after today’s revelations.

He opens the back door of the cruiser, the metallic click of the cuffs echoing in the quiet night as he pulls her into the backseat. Despite his intention to be firm yet gentle, his frustration seeps through, and he handles her a bit roughly, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud.

Paloma jolts upright, the abrupt sound snapping her out of the horny trance his restraint had put her in.

“Always have to get your way, don’t you? By any means necessary? Looks like some things never fuckin’ change.” Her words blend together, slightly slurred, as he starts driving towards her house, relieved that Romeo is working overnight and spared from witnessing this.

She was already on thin ice with him all things considered. She’s sure her father would have a cow if he saw her this drunk.

She leans forward, pressing against the partition cage separating them, her gaze locked with his in the rearview mirror. Tension crackles between them during this silent exchange. His jaw tightens when she continues her tirade.

“Is this the same arrogance that led you to Los Pepes?” The mention hits a nerve, causing him to momentarily lose his composure. She smirks, satisfied with the reaction she’s provoked. His stare darkens with intense anger, magnified by her smugness.

How the fuck did she know about that?

As if reading his mind, she continues. “I read the article from the Miami Herald. Got curious, decided to read more on the elusive yet admired Javier Peña.” Another flash of anger courses through him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turn white.

“You did some fucked up stuff, agent. Gettin’ involved with killers. How are you not in prison right now?” Her words cut deep, dredging up his past in a way that feels unfair, but she’s hurt and beyond giving a fuck at the moment.

Javier struggles to find the right words, torn between defending himself and acknowledging the truth in her accusations.

“Paloma…” His voice is low with restrained frustration. “You don’t understand––”

“Don’t give me that shit, Javi,” she cuts him off bitterly, her voice cracking with emotion. “I understand enough. I trusted you.”

Each word hits him like a bullet from a gun he loaded himself and fired by yet another woman that he’s hurt. He’s rendered speechless, so much bullshit accumulating to blow up in this very moment. He hadn’t even realized that they weren’t far from her house.

“You hurt people after usin’ ‘em yet somehow the consequences never seem to reach you. And when they do, it’s nothin’ more but a slap on the wrist.”

She contributes to this so-called unfair display of punishment. She can’t bring herself to penalize him with her indefinite absence for the way he shattered her heart.

Instead, she’s acting like an idiot, handcuffed in the back of his cruiser and so pissed that it’s turned her on. Not even ten minutes ago, she was on the verge of telling him to fuck her on the side of the road, teetering on the edge of desperation.

Now she’s full on chastising him.

Javier is trying real fucking hard not to blow up on her, it’s as if she’s had a look into his mind and pulled out all the spiteful words that he repeats to himself every single day. His silence remains, the urge to defend himself faltering.

She groans in exasperation when he doesn’t reply, her shoulders tense from having her arms pinned back by the cuffs, the rough edges digging into her wrists.

She’d never understand, not even if he laid it all out to her in the most vulnerable way possible. Hell, he still can’t sort through his shit without triggering an existential crisis.

Paloma continues with her angry ramblings as they arrive at her house. He once again roughly pulls her from the backseat, fumbling for the key to unlock her handcuffs, desperate to release himself from the fraught situation and rightfully fuck off. He can’t continue to deal with this shit tonight.

Leading her up to the porch, he finally frees her from the restraints. She whirls around to confront him head-on.

“What is your deal?! I need to know. Goin’ around makin’ a girl feel special… spendin’ all your time with her then rejectin’ her just to turn around and sleep with her best friend. That’s low, Javier.”

His eyes narrow. He should have known that Sloane was the catalyst to all this. It explains her seething jealousy, her emotional outburst at the bar, her current fury.

Despite reading him to filth, he’s undeniably attracted to her and her intense antics. He shouldn’t find this possessive side of her as hot as he does.

“Last I checked, corazón, I don’t belong to you or any other woman in this town.”

Paloma’s eye twitches involuntarily at his remark, the harsh truth of it cutting through the haze of the alcohol. They don’t belong to each other; there are no ties binding them beyond their shared history and tangled feelings. Yet in this moment, with her intoxicated by both tequila and his presence–– he does belong to her. Javier is hers.

He plucks a cigarette from his pocket, needing it desperately considering the rollercoaster of emotions he’s gone through in the last however long. He lets it dangle from his lips as he digs into his back pocket for a lighter.

“That new boyfriend of yours must not be fucking you right if you’re this wound up over who I decide to stick my dick in.”

His petty remark hovers in the air like a volatile spark waiting to ignite. Her chest heaves with indignation, whole body vibrating with the raw intensity of her feelings. She doesn’t hesitate, her hand moving swiftly to deliver a resounding slap across his cheek. The unlit cigarette drops from his lips, forgotten as it lands on the ground beside them. Javier remains still as he absorbs the sting of her palm against his skin.

They lock eyes in a tense standoff, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Her breaths come in rapid bursts, her heart pounding in her chest. Without warning, she lunges forward, her lips crashing against his in a desperate, fervent kiss.

His initial surprise gives way to instinct as he responds to her, his lips moving against hers with a hunger born from their shared, toxic yearning. But as her mouth opens to deepen the kiss, the taste of tequila lingers on her tongue, a reminder of her intoxicated state. He pulls back gently.

“No, please don’t do this to me again…” She whimpers out softly, her eyes filling with tears as her hands cling to the fabric of his shirt.

“We can’t… not now, cariño you’re really drunk.” The instant switch in her tone and body language is enough to trigger his tenderness, his hands coming up to rest atop of her balled up fists against his chest.

The pure vexation and trepidation from before begins to simmer out, both of them having reached the peak of their respective moods and now suffering from the declining slope that follows.

His rejection this time around doesn’t sting as much as the last. There’s a bittersweet clarity in knowing that he’s choosing restraint over indulgence, respect over desire.

“I-If I wasn’t drunk… would you have fucked me?” She blurts out, bottom lip quivering slightly as she waits for his response, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what he might say.

He hesitates, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features. He leans forward instinctively, steadying her as she wobbles on unsteady legs.

“Let’s get you inside and in the shower. You need to sober up a little before getting into bed.” Javier ignores her question all together, removing her hands from his chest as he carefully maneuvers her towards the front door.

“I got it.” She tells him with her head hung low, reaching over to a nearby flower pot and digging out the spare house key.

She, in fact, does not got it when her attempts to unlock the door fail as she struggles to get the key in. Javier takes over gently, letting them both inside.

Getting her up the stairs proves to be more of a struggle than he anticipated. She clings to him, her grip tight and insistent, bombarding him with questions about his night with Sloane.

Am I as pretty as her?

Did she do it better than me?

Do you have feelings for her?

Again, he ignores her because it’s all ridiculous and she’s too drunk for him to thoroughly explain that he doesn’t see Sloane like that at all.

She was a mistake. A lapse in his judgment. A reminder of how he’s no good for Paloma.

They reach the bathroom and he gently lowers her onto the closed toilet seat. He turns on the shower, the sound of running water filling the room with a soothing rhythm. When he turns back, she is already beginning to undress, her movements slow and unsteady.

He averts his eyes quickly, a flush creeping up his neck at the proximity and intimacy of the moment. Clearing his throat, he steps out right as the last article of clothing is shed.

“Gonna get you some water. Please be careful in there.” He’s hesitant to move from his spot at the door in case she falls over.

She grumbles out a brief ‘okay’ and after a few more seconds of hovering, he quickly goes to the kitchen to get her some water and painkillers.

He’s back in her room now, turning the bedside lamp on to get everything ready for her to get some sleep.

Javi pauses for a moment. It’s the first time he’s ever been in this space and he feels like he’s intruding on her. He gets a sense of déjà vu, recalling the day he had been in Jessica Valadez’s room and the similarities between her and Paloma.

He rummages through her dresser until he finds a t-shirt and some shorts, walking down the hallway to the bathroom where she’s just shut off the shower.

“Got some clothes for you. Here.” He sticks his hand through the cracked door and not long after does she take them from him silently, shutting the door. Javier lets out a shaky sigh, leaning against the wall and giving himself a second to breathe.

She stares at her reflection with teary eyes, feeling a little lighter after her shower. If it were up to her, she would have stayed in there all night; comforted by the warm water hitting her skin.

With him on the other side of the door, she doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s transpired. Why does she always have to do this when she’s under the influence? She’s already starting to hate herself for it now, she knows the embarrassment will only be worse when she wakes up tomorrow with a killer hangover.

After getting dressed in the clothes he brought her (a sweet gesture that makes her want to wring his neck) and brushing her teeth, she emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp. She walks past him without a word, heading straight to her bedroom.

Javier hesitates, torn between leaving now and staying a bit longer to ensure she’s okay.

His feet carry him to her bedroom door before his mind catches up. “I’m headed out,” he announces awkwardly, his gaze fixed on her as she crawls into bed. “Drink some water and take those pills.”

Paloma nods faintly, doing as he instructed, her eyes avoiding him as she curls up under the blankets.

He wants to say more, to fix things somehow, but he knows he can’t. Not tonight, not like this.

“Can you come here, please?”

Her words carry a vulnerable tone that tugs at his heartstrings, having him walk over to her.

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you want me Javi?” Her voice trembles slightly, head sinking deeper into the pillow. Her sad, twinkling brown eyes plead with him, searching for answers that have eluded her for too long “What don’t I have that all the others do?”

He feels a pang in his chest, kneeling beside the bed and bringing himself to eye level with her. He can’t bear to see her like this, questioning her worth because of his shortcomings. He knows it’s not about what she lacks—it’s about his own fears and insecurities.

“Cariño, you have so fucking much,” he murmurs sincerely. His fingers reach out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She’s so beautiful. “You have this warmth, this passion... It scares me, Paloma. How strongly I feel about you.”

He searches her eyes, hoping she’ll understand, hoping she’ll see that it’s his own tensions holding him back, not any fault of hers. But he knows words alone won’t heal the wounds he’s inflicted. He wishes he could erase the pain he’s caused, the doubts he’s planted in her heart.

Her gaze holds his, a mixture of longing and hurt swirling in his mesmerizing brown eyes. She doesn’t verbally say anything, but her stare speaks volumes—pleading for an explanation.

“But why?”

“‘Cause shit has never worked out for me.”

“So you just gave up entirely?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“Yeah. Until I met you and realized how lonely it is giving up.” Paloma hiccups softly, her words tinged with vulnerability, nuzzling into his touch against her cheek. “Do you like being lonely, Javi?”

There’s a long pause.

“…No.” He’s never been this honest before.

She scoots closer to him, closing the gap between them. Her hand reaches up tentatively, fingers brushing against his. “Then don’t be. I’m right here.”

Javi looks down, pulling his hand back. “You need to sleep this off baby.”

Her brow furrows slightly, frustration clear in her expression. She wants him to stay, to talk, to unravel the complexities between them. But she knows he’s holding back, keeping his distance for reasons she can’t fully grasp.

“Don’t fuckin’ dismiss me—”

“I’m not dismissing you. We’ll talk about it another time when you’re sober. Right now you need to sleep.”

“Promise me.” Her voice is insistent now, “Promise me that you’ll actually talk and be honest when we speak again.”

He knows he owes her that much—honesty, vulnerability, a chance to mend the fractures he’s caused. He nods slowly.

“Si, te lo prometo. Pero ahorita, mi palomita, tienes que descansar (Yes, I promise you, but right now, my little dove, you need to rest).”

He reaches out again, this time his hand finding hers on the bedspread. Their fingers intertwine briefly, a silent reassurance passing between them. He squeezes gently before standing.

Her lips curl up into a small yet sweet smile, feeling newfound hope at the prospect of making amends with Javier and finally getting what she actually wants.

No fantastical tales of peace and power, no outlandish adventures and sneaking around, no deceit.

All she desires is to be wanted by him.

He lingers by the door again. “We’ll talk soon.”

Paloma nods, “Goodnight, Javi.” Her eyes follow him as he leaves the room. Alone now, she curls up under the blankets, drunken thoughts swirling in her head. She wants to believe in his promise, to hope that their next conversation will bring clarity and maybe even something more.

Now outside, Javier bends down to pick up his discarded cigarette, leaning against the car and lighting it. He runs a hand through his hair as he exhales the smoke heavily. He’s committed now, committed to confronting his own fears after half-assing it for so long. It won’t be easy, but for Paloma, he’s willing to try.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier peña fic #narcos fanfiction #javier peña x ofc #narcos fic #javier pena smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos

16 notes · View notes

twdeadlysins · 6 years ago

Text

Bloodletting: Part One

Season two, episode two (1/2)

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,337

Warnings: Slow burn, panic attack, minor mention of character death, the usual walking dead violence, language, blood, and such with possible typos

Author’s Note: I don’t own anything from The Walking Dead, so all credit goes to their respective owners. This is a twd series rewrite with the reader inserted into the mix. I did and will continue to use dialogue from the actual show because I want it to be similar to what you’ve already watched, but obviously have the reader in it.

If you want to be (un)tagged for this series rewrite, don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message me, or leave a comment and I’ll add/remove you. The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer. Any feedback is appreciated, but hate is a different story. Thank you and enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST // TWD SERIES REWRITE

The adrenaline coursing through your veins subsided every pained muscle in your body as you sprinted behind Rick, who was carrying Carl’s limp body in his arms. Shane was trailing behind with the man that caused this whole mess. Other than him mentioning a house and a doctor, you got the directions and tuned out everything else, not caring what else he had to say, Carl was the only thing that mattered.

Once you broke out of the woods, you raced through a field, trying not to pass your best friend. Rick started to falter in his steps, his grip slipping on Carl, so you rushed to him and grabbed his son. Rick’s emotions were getting the best of him which obviously you didn’t blame him, he was carrying his motionless son in his arms, but you were faster. As you were sprinting in the general direction of the house, you heard Shane yelling at the man to keep moving and to get you guys there before Rick shouted in question of how far it was. The breathless hunter had said it’d be another mile and you could barely hear him since you were almost halfway there, seeing the house in the distance.

In between pants you screamed for help, hoping whoever was inside would hear and come assist you. You cradled Carl in your arms, mentally praying that he’d be okay as you struggled with the tears that threatened to spill from your tired eyes. Once you had gotten a bit closer, you saw a figure standing on the porch before they went inside to bring four or so people out with them.

“Was he bit?” the elderly man questioned as you swallowed the bile in your throat. “Shot, by your man,” you answered, speed walking towards them.

“Otis?”

You desperately shrugged your shoulders since you didn’t catch his name, not caring for introductions as Carl was unconscious on the ground with a bullet in his body. The older man had instructed for you to get him inside of their home just as Rick had caught up with you. He had ordered for a Patricia and Maggie to collect his supplies as he rolled up his sleeves with you trekking behind, leading you into a bedroom. He then lifted the comforter of the bed, so you could lie Carl down. Rick kept inquiring if his boy was alive, but the doctor ignored him, trying to save Carl as he demanded for things. The doctor handed you a pad and so you folded it and applied pressure to the wound since you had some medical experience from being in the military. You didn’t specialize in it, but you did know the basics and enough to get someone by.

He then pulled out his stethoscope and placed it on Carl’s chest while you stared down at your bloody hands. “I’ve got a heartbeat. It’s faint.”

The one you assumed to be Patrica told you to step back, that she had it, so you withdrew your hands and backed away from them to give them their space. The doctor assured they were going to do everything they could for him and told Rick that they needed some room. You lightly nudged Rick and guided him to the door only to see Shane and Otis sprinting towards the house. Once the two of you went outside, the adrenaline you once had dissipated, and a sharp pain shot down your leg making you wince and fall to the ground. You clutched your thigh and rocked back and forth as Shane rushed to your side to help, but you shook your head knowing there was nothing he could do. “It’s okay- I’m- okay,” you muttered in between breaths, grunting at your throbbing muscles.

The bruised hip was long forgotten when Carl hit the ground and especially when you couldn’t feel the pain as you raced to save him. You waved Shane off to tend to Rick who had accidentally transferred blood from his hands to his face. As Shane wiped his friend’s face with a rag, you straightened out your leg with a whimper before leaning on the house with one hand for support as you pushed up with the other to stand. Once you stood up, you wiped your palms onto your jeans since the blood had already transferred from clutching onto your leg, your jeans were already stained, so might as well. The four of you entered the house after to check up on how they were doing to see the elderly man next to Carl, holding a towel to his wound.

“You know his blood type?”

“A-Positive, same as mine…” Rick replied. The man then stated that it was fortunate and that he didn’t want him wandering too far because he’ll need him soon before questioning Otis on what happened.

“I was tracking a buck… bullet went through it, went clean through,” Otis explained slowly, still in shock that this was the result. The way he elaborated, the tone and his expression was enough for you to not blame him, it was a freak accident… out of everyone’s control.

“The deer slowed the bullet down which certainly saved his life, but it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out and I’m counting six…” the doctor revealed, causing your breath to hitch.

“I never saw him,” Otis desperately assured Patricia from behind you, “not until he was on the ground.”

“Lori doesn’t know,” Rick solemnly said on the brink of breaking down. “My wife doesn’t know… my wife doesn’t know.”

Shane put his arm around his shoulder trying to comfort him and whispered in his ear, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying to him. You got closer to Rick and softly gripped his shoulder, rubbing your thumb to let him know you were there for him too… that he wasn’t alone in this. “I can- I can go back to the group… tell Lori and bring her-”

Before you could finish your sentence, your throat began to itch and you started to cough. You placed your mouth in the crook of your elbow to prevent spreading any germs and it seemed the coughing fit wouldn’t end. A hand was on your back, smoothing circles across it and patting here and there. “Is it just me or is it hot in here,” you inquired in a haze.

Shane had guided you to the couch in the living room and a girl with short brunette hair, which you assumed was Maggie, held a water bottle to your lips, so you tilted your head back for the liquid to coat your throat. After she backed away and set the bottle down on the coffee table, the older gentleman placed the back of his hand to your temple to check for a fever. Your entire body felt like a furnace and you felt so fatigued from the running, the pain, and the heat that you wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

“She’s got an infection,” he stated as he inspected the swollen cuts on your arms. He instructed for someone to get some type of antibiotics that you didn’t catch the name of since all you wanted to do was listen to your body… to pass out. Someone requested for you to open your mouth and you obliged, feeling the pills and the water before you swallowed the contents and rested your head against the back of the couch, letting your droopy eyes shut.

Meanwhile…

“You still worrying about it?” Andrea questioned Lori since she had turned around to look beyond the woods, in the direction Rick and the rest were.

“It was a gunshot.”

“We all heard it,” Daryl reminded.

Lori quickly craned her neck to look at the group. “Why one? Why just one gunshot?”

“Maybe they took down a walker,” the hunter suggested since he couldn’t think of a better reason as to why one bullet was fired. He actually matched Lori’s worries because he knew that Rick, Shane and Y/N wouldn’t have had risked the noise or waste the ammo for a single walker. There were three capable people to take down a walker, so they wouldn’t have used their guns.

“Please don’t patronize me, you know Rick wouldn’t risk a gunshot to put down one walker. Or Shane or Y/N. They’d do it quietly,” she abruptly countered before searching the trees with her eyes as if she was going to see anything, see them.

“Shouldn’t they have caught up with us by now?” Carol questioned.

Daryl didn’t want anyone to start panicking, so he flatly said that there was nothing they could do about it, that they couldn’t just chase echos in the woods. The only thing they could do was beat the bush for Sophia and work their way back to the highway. As they started to walk again, Andrea started to apologize for what Carol was going through, so they paused to wait for the two of them.

“The thought of her- out here… by herself, it’s the not knowing that’s killing me,” Carol sadly said. “I just keep hoping and praying she doesn’t wind up like Amy.”

Carol instantly realized what slipped from her lips and hurriedly apologized for her mistake to the blonde. Andrea didn’t take offense even though her face was a little struck by it, but nonetheless she understood and said that they were all hoping and praying for what it was worth.

“I’ll tell ya what it’s worth- not a damn thang. It’s a waste of time all this hopin’ and prayin’ ‘cause we’re gonna locate that little girl and she’ll be just fine,” Daryl declared. Daryl didn’t believe in all that religious crap, he did just fine on his own without praying and believing. Listening to Y/N pray didn’t change his mind, but it wasn’t like he was going to think less of her for believing in something he didn’t.

“Am I the only one zen around here? Good Lord,” the hunter said in annoyance as he got a move on. He just wanted to get back in hopes of finding Sophia and wait until Rick and the others came back so they could come up with something else if she wasn’t found.

***

“Why’d I let him come with us? I should have sent him with Lori.”

“Rick… this isn’t your fault,” you weakly assured with your eyes barely open. A light blanket covered your form even though you were burning up, you didn’t want to throw it off because you’d miss it’s texture and feel cold without it.

“She’s right. You know, you start that, you’ll never get that monkey off your back,” Shane advised and it was true. Ever since you blamed yourself for the deaths of your aunt and uncle, the guilt never seemed to go away and same with Sophia.

“Little girl goes missing, you look for her, simple. You said call it, head back-”

“Doesn’t matter what I said,” Shane softly argued, feeling for his best friend and the guilt he was feeling, it was clear in his voice. Rick shouldn’t guilt trip himself for something that wasn’t in his control.

“Carl got shot because I wouldn’t cut bait. It should be me in there.”

Shane chuckled, “You’ve been there, partner. Right? And you pulled through, so will he,” he confidently said. You agreed with his statement, Carl was strong just like his father, he was going to make it and you’d be damned if you were wrong.

After the two of them bantered some more, Maggie opened the door and called for Rick, something about needing blood. You could hear groaning mixed with cries in the other room and you tossed the fabric aside to head to the room, but Shane caught you as you wobbled in your place. “Nah, you stay here, okay? Need to rest to and let the antibiotics do their job, so you get better,” he gently spoke.

You reluctantly nodded your head and plopped down on the couch, covering yourself with the blanket while you heard Carl shout out for his dad. It pained you to hear his cries knowing that you couldn’t do anything for him, that even his own father couldn’t. The only thing he could do was give him his blood and be there for him. When he started to scream in agony, you clasped your hands over your ears and clamped your eyes shut, desperate to close off any distressed noises. You could hear Rick yell to stop, that the doctor was killing him, so you abruptly got up and limped out the door not caring if it hurt.

You were aware that the doctor wasn’t killing him, that Rick was reacting to his son in pain, but all you wanted to do was get as far away as possible because you couldn’t take it. The screams and shouts of pain and arguments were too much especially in your condition at the moment. You managed to sit in a chair outside on the patio, still wrapped up in the blanket, quietly sobbing at everything that’s gone wrong since you arrived at the quarry. Merle’s hand on the rooftop and the cries of Daryl, the deaths of Amy and some of the others, the death of Jim, the deaths of Jacqui and Jenner, breaking down in the middle of an interstate that inhabited death, Sophia’s disappearance and now this. Every emotion you bottled up inside poured out of you like a tsunami, when was everything going to be alright for once? Every time things looked good for you all, it all came crashing down on you. The world was toying with you, handing you something and just as you’re about to reach for it, it snatches it right back before you could get a hold of it.

“Are you okay?”

You snapped your head to see Maggie eyeing you worriedly and you shook your head as you tried to catch your breath and you when you couldn’t, you started to panic and hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe, follow my breaths.” She was crouched in front of you and held both of your trembling hands, slowly inhaling and exhaling, encouraging you to copy. You mimicked her breaths and once you started to get the pattern, you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself. It had been years since you had a panic attack, all the emotions you stored away came rushing back and you started to fear the worse.

“Are you okay?” Maggie asked with concern again and you unraveled your hands from her grip, rubbing your face along with your tears. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Here, let's get you inside and some water.” She helped you up keeping in mind to not touch your bandaged wounds and escorted you to the couch before prompting you to drink some water.

Time had went by, you didn’t know how long, but Rick and Shane finally came out of the bedroom. Otis and Maggie were each in an armchair eager to hear of any updates whereas you were curled up on the couch. You lolled your head off of the furniture to peer at Shane in hopes for any news since the screams stopped a while ago.

“He’s stable for now.”

Maggie and Otis seemed relieved, but still anxious… things could still change… stable was good, but not good enough to be cheering. You flopped your head back to rest before hearing Rick say that Lori had to be there, that she had to know.

“Okay, I get that,” Shane responded. “I’m gonna handle it, but you’ve gotta handle your end.”

“My- my end?” Rick stuttered, not grasping onto what he was referring to.

“Your end is being here for your son. Even if he didn’t need your blood to survive, there’s no way I’d ever let you walk out of that door. Man, I’d break your legs if you tried, you know that, right?” There was silence before Shane continued. “If something happened to him and you weren’t here… if- if he slipped away while you were gone, you would never forgive yourself for that and neither would Lori, man.”

Shane was right, Rick wouldn’t forgive himself if the worse outcome happened and you knew damn sure Lori wouldn’t either, she’d remind him of it all the time. You remembered a time when Rick helped Carl bake cookies while Lori was away and it turned out to be a disaster, she never let him forget it either. He needed to be there for Carl, someone else could go get Lori and it couldn’t be you anymore, you knew your limits and this was one of them.

“You’re right.”

“When was I ever wrong?” Shane joked with Rick to lighten up the mood a bit and you couldn’t prevent yourself from chuckling knowing he had a grin on his face. The giggle morphed into a cough and you heard Shane stifle a laugh, so once you composed yourself, you gave him a resting bitch face and gave him the bird earning a gleeful smile in return.

After Shane gave Rick another motivational speech, the older man whose name you learned was Hershel, stepped out of the door and informed that Carl was out of danger for the time being. He needed to remove the remaining fragments and he needed to go deeper for the rest, but Carl couldn’t take the shallowest one, so he definitely couldn’t take the others. Another problem was that his belly was distended and his pressure was dropping which indicated that there was internal bleeding. He would need to open him up, find the nicked blood vessel and stitch it while Carl remained perfectly still, not a single movement or the doctor would sever an artery and Rick’s son would be dead in minutes.

In order for Hershel to perform this surgery, Carl would have to go under, but he wouldn’t be able to breathe on his own so either way he would die. “Don’t you need some type of equipment for him- for him to breathe while you operate?” you questioned, clearing your throat once you felt an itch.

“You need a respirator,” Otis spoke up before asking Hershel what else he needed. Hershel mentioned the tube that went with the respirator and other medical supplies, if he had all of those things, he could try and save the boy. Otis mentioned a high school, they had set up a shelter there and would have everything they needed. Last time Otis had saw it, it was overrun, but there was a possibility it got better with time.

Rick hated the idea of Shane going alone and you wanted to offer to go with him, but you knew that wasn’t an option, not in your condition, you didn’t need anyone telling you that. Shane asked for the doctor to write up a list and draw a map, but Otis said he didn’t need one, that he was going to be his guide. Patricia denied him of going, but Otis wanted to since he was responsible. You understood that more than anybody, so you thought it was best if he aided Shane in the supply run. Like you always said, two better than one.

Before Shane walked passed you to leave, you grabbed his wrist and looked up at him. “Be safe, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

He grinned down at you, “When have I ever done anything stupid?” You opened your mouth to retort, but he cut you off. “Don’t answer that,” he chuckled before leaning down to kiss your forehead. “But don’t worry about me, alright? Get some rest, you hear? You nodded your head and loosened your hold as he walked away and out the door, you just hoped that the run would be successful and that they’d both come back in one piece.

___________________________________

Thank you for reading! What did you think of this part? Any feedback is much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts, criticism, suggestions, etc! If you’d like to be tagged or removed, don’t hesitate to let me know!

Taglist: @jodiereedus22 @sourwolf-sterek32 @jll72-blog @mtngirlforever @haleypearce @nikkipea @sombra--speaks @kararanae23 @bunnymother93 @holyn0vak @myshakespeareandarling @million-dollar-milkshake @thatsoragan @firehoopinmama @mummy-woves-you @sheebthezeeb @j-a-val @filleinterrupted @gruffle1 @lonewolf471 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @gabbygurrl @burningsorr0ws @siren-queen03 @themshelby @randomfandommess @dixonluvv @aestheticmattilyn @samlott2202 @freggietale��@fandomfanatic97

127 notes · View notes

k4nill · 6 years ago

Text

ROTTMNT: Human AU, some design HCs and random HC

@bootyyshaker9000 This is so long i'm so sorry i just gonna make a post about it i don't wanna flow your dms or anything, so I wrote this down in paper and in spanish so forgive me if my english is shitty and it took so damn long, btw HI!!!~ How you doing honey?

My Heart Ache a Lot (cuzhessopreciousicantbrah)

~ My son Mikey I can't let anybody hurt you. (Btw, Leon call him Miguelito). He struggles a little with puberty, mostly with ocasional acne. His brothers constantly remind him of being careful to not get scars from pinching the pimples obsessively.

~ MIXED BRAH U CANT' TELL ME OTHER WISE, 1/2 cups of african-american and 1/2 cups of latino spice and PUFF yOU GOT CINNAMON ROLL THAT COULD ACTUALLY KILL YOU.

~ Cocoa skin (with that yellow undertone, you know?). Thin hair, curly, natural and the most bouncy-est(?) hair, a little above the chin lenght, tied up in a bun when he's busy making art.

~ Button nose, surrounded by some freckles. With really big, almond eyes. His face gets pinkish when it's to damn hot, he's doing to much work or is REALLY angry.

~ I think I gotta bring up how nice his smile is, he got that smile, that shows up just his upper teeth row, the upper lip disappears and it goes way up his cheeks and then it sinks in his dimples. Art.

~ Mikey ain't that young but his height, complexion and even facial features makes him look a lot younger in comparison to his brothers, he could be like 25 and ppl would still think he's in highschool, never aging ppl.

~Had this beautiful dreads, with the tips colored differently once in a while. Now he's growing his hair to have larger dreads, so he can paint em a different color each and have em in high up-do, like a rubberband ball.

~ Mikey would wear every fucking color, get the fuck away with toxic masculinity p l e a s e. Fits anything 10/10. But loves sports clothing (Matching ones are the BEST) he find's it refreshing and really comfy since Miguel is really active, so if he's needs to go usain bolt he GOES OFF and you can imagine sneakers don't last with him. Probably, every single piece of clothing he owns has at least a minor stain from some sort of paint.

~Wears headbands, sometimes really neat designs and then straight out "what the hell is this vomit stain garbage Mikey?" (from Donnie, mostly).

~ Has fake piercings. He's got several in his ears. He wants to have em for real, older brothers just keep telling him that "when he gets older".

Plus: We all know how the turtles are sneaky sneaky, tricky tricky and rad skillyz skillyz being ninjas but in this human AU his brothers got nothing on him like he's flexible as hell, he comes down the stairs like the exorcist bitch or that other bitch on the ring and scares the shit out of Leon and Raph, can touch his calfs with his neck that kind of stuff. And he doesn't run, he travels back to 1955 to save Marty McFly ass.

Leonardo DABinci

~ Not so long ago I made a post about how Leon is a Latino, quote:

"I can clearly see how Leon is totally a Latino. Like: thick wavy hair, with really small monolid eyes, and medium light skin (latinos know what the hell i'm talking about, those kids that get told they have "ojos de chinito" and rock the neapolitan tanning: caramel where the sunlight hits, milky way where it doesn't and pink when it's too much sun for the day) and then Donnie is this asian™ bean, so, sometimes they are mistaken as blood related brothers (Mostly cuz the eyez) and the stripes are the tanning y'all."

~ In addition, recently someone WOKE™ me up and reveled to me as in a prophecy, that Leon is Half-Chilenian, Half-Argentinian.

~ TBH yall, i just want my boy to do his thing and do them Fornite dances while some dope ass cumbias are playing, this is straight up my dream for real.

~Leon got those damn thick eyebrows more than Raph, plucks em to give em shape.

~Has a lot of scars. Leon is very active as Miguel but he is a troublemaker. Got several scars from fights: face, knees, knuckles, arms, legs. And that one time he came running to get his juice, slipped and smashed into the stove glass.

~Has wavy thick hair, keeps the top messy and fluffy and the rest shorter, undercut typo.

~LEON. USES. GLASSES. Period. But don't use em regulary, mainly cuz he's so active and sometimes clumsy and would rather not buy glasses everytime he goes out.

(Donnie, probably): "Leon, why don't you use your glasses? You are making your eyes even smaller trying to read that sign"

(Dumbo): "No, no! que dices weon? I only need the glasses when i'm reading!"

~Loves stripes in his clothing. In any shape and thickness.

~Low-key uses Donnie button up shirts because he does think Donnie looks so well in em, but he's a little more broad than him (Thicc bacc, bicc arms) so he had tear some up, or pop a button or too.

~Guy who would wear anything and don't give a shit if he doesn't have a defined style. One day he's with that graphic tee, flashy bermudas and some sandals and the other day using some jeans, saggy big sweater, a beret and some fine boots.

~ Loves boots more than sneakers. Got good traction with em. But no one can replace las CHANCLAS i'm telling you, he's so comfortable flipping & flopping.

~ He's hairy. Really hairy. Don't shave, except the faice. He's got that baby face and the trace of where the beard could be. It ain't that thick sandpaper beard aftershave tho, Raph taught him the tricks to the silk road.

~Them sideburns tho, neAT-O.

~He ain't got former training, just some random stuff he's learned from Donnie and Raph. Nontheless, he's the trickster and can go dirty on fighting just to save his ass. But sometimes, his big mouth saves his dumb ass from trouble. (2/100 times, the other 98 times it makes it worse)

~Plus: He's into parkour a lot. Takes Mikey out so he can tag some walls uphigh. These trips are the reason he gets in fights more than his other brothers, he's gotta stick out for his brother in case shit goes down, but mostly because he's a loudmouth and sometimes he deserves it cuz he starts the fire tbh.

The thing goes RAP - PHA - PHA

~ Raph, my soft boy. He still BIG™, ain't ripped like a physiculturist, gotta admit, abs are in fact chocolate abs but got a chunky yet funky tone to it. Big ass arms, to strong to carry my depression and smash all my worries.

~ Obviously African-American, I just imagine this warm undertone to his skin. Thick eyebrows (plucks out his unibrow, and nothing more, that natural angled eyebrow perfect as it is).

~ Hairy complexion (but not as hairy as Leo) to pull out a balbo beard, faded to his hair, then starts the faded high top, (not that high tho) with that cotton natural hair (raph is just my dream tbh).

~ My boy rocks denim everything. But got this particular worn off denim jacket he treats like one of his extremities. It's kinda saggy, old, several splashes of god knows what substances... But he wears it like the most precious thing, his brothers got him for his birthday, selling candy bars and other sweet goodies. Made him cry like a bitch.

~ Snaggletooth fang. I got this random HC that Raph got it in a fight with one of his brothers when he was younger. His first tooth after his decidious teeth, he was so happy, finally "maturing" in his words. In his younger years he struggled a LOT with angry issues, (mainly, as the oldest, he understood a little big more about the rejection above the city for mutants, and built up this feeling of despite).

One day, one of his brothers made him really fucking angry, they got in a physical fight, that ended with his crooked fang, but yet, Raph is BIG and he can't measure his strenght sometimes. Then, his brother is crying in pain, screaming how bad can he treat his brother, as if he didn't love them, just as the people above.

He wasn't angry cuz the teeth (cuz he showed it off, like it made him an adult already), he broke down because he was always feeling so damn angry, being the oldest and yet he was beating their younger siblings over some dumb shit and treated them like people in the surface would. Raph is challenged each day, when he sees his face in the mirror, with the tooth projecting outwards as reminder of all the rage he had to let go to protect their brothers, to make a change on his perspective and emotions, to keep their family and himself happy.

I think this mind set change was the thing that settled Raph as a leader. He got stronger, not physicially, but mentally and emocionally, for the sake of his family.

This HC can be translated somehow to the Human AU but i'm not sure the origin of Raph's rage yet.

~ Would wear any shirt that has anything he likes, PLUS if it is in red. He just loves red. He's the only one obvious with their color preference. Red caps, shirts, jackets, pants and tons of sneakers.

~ Likes jeans but loves that kind of bermuda cut shorts and not all the way down pants. He's got some C A L F S with capitals.

~ Luckily, he does wear matching socks. (We can't see Don's most of the time but Raph shows more leg so).

~Wrist wrist wrist wrist wrist wrist. Loves wrist accesories and probably would wrap around anything on his wrist.

~He's got that classic™ Rock Lee from Naruto bandages from training and work out and sometimes he's just to tired to take off the shin pads.

~Don't show em much but got some big ass brass knuckles in his pockets in case someone messes the fuck up with his brothers. (He would easily let go if it was just him, he's a master of templance, but be warned: not with his family)

Plus: Got one tatto, in his back, below the neck, this celtic rune (we know that celtic runes have several meanings, so he took one with various that would fit him) a Gebo, that can mean partnership, generosity and sacrifice.

DONNA TELL EM

~ For starts, Donnie is my asian bean. Creamy pale skin, monolid eyes, with that puffy under eyelid, of course noticeable dark circles, but he got that EYESMILE BOI. (You know that people who kept straight face but the eyes are just screaming happiness??? That kind of eyesmile)

~ Hair black, thin, straight cut (his hair is kinda wavy) at his shoulder's lenght, got that fade styling in the back tho, usually wrapped in a high ponytail/bun. (Mikey loves to mess with his hair).

~ He's got that thin eyebrow hair, so, he fills em up to make them thicker, so gives him more of an assertive feature. (Also he is jealous of Leo and Raph eyebrows, nontheless edge so sharp to cut a bitch) Got that hairless complexion so not much about facial hair.

~ Obviously keeps them THIGHS™. (So far, to me their complexion on the show is the same as in the human AU so... ) Jeans were invented to the sole purpose to fit Donnie so well.

~To wear, jeans are a go to, but damn sweatpants comfy AF. Big old sweatshirts, swearters and hoodies. Underneat, digs button shirts, short or long, never with flashy prints, yet some minor deco, (to him is all in the elegance....). Raph and Donnie share an interest on sneakers, so he can wear like 1 hoodie for 10 days straight but a different sneaker each.

~But wears missmatched socks like the fuck out of here BOI, looking neat and clean and you come out with this yeeyee ass bullshit.

~ Donnie hides the fact that he's riPPED under the hoodies and sweatpants often, (he's tall as shit and his brothers calling him spagethi bOI don't help much) so people make the assumption he's the weakest of his brothers. He's the only graduated on black belt on Karate and knows his shit on MMA. On his younger years he was indeed saved many times by Raph's strenght, Mikey's swiftyness and Leon's cunning. This "being the weak" complex got to his head and started training solo. His brothers are amazed of Donnie's self-improvement and he often disguises it as the "i did it so i wouldnt be the weakest, you better watch out when i supass yall" but they all know he suffered inmensely seeing his brothers hurt because of him, so if they go down he does too, to protect them.

Plus: Complementary headphones with neon designs, blasting nightcore, dubstep and DnB songs with every Donnie purchased.

BG:

In my AU, these kids grew up really poor. They learned the value of hardwork since they were really young. Like in the Teetle Universe, people see them as misfits. Especially, because they are a "patched up family" (they are not blood related) and being looked down by the economic factor, mostly.

They got some real internal issues. But, the only thing that keeps them sane is how tight their brotherhood is.

Donnie and Raph have a job and go to college. Struggle a lot with their younger siblings rebellious stage.

Leon and Mikey go to highschool and do some baked goodies or art comissions to have some sort of income. Ain't fond of school that much, real troublemakers.

April it's a freshman in college and has much more accomodated life, but somehow, she's always felt she doesn't belong to anywhere, until she meet our boys. April learns a lot of life hardships while hanging out with em.

This would be, basically the series:

April meets this guys, this is sort of a slice of life anime, with lots of comedy and fun shots, however it develops around April learning valuable lessons that will help her as an adult, about friendship, loyalty, respect, empathy and kindness, after all the things the boys are going through.

I'm not sure how am I gonna accomodate Splinter in this, but eventually I'll figure it out.

I'm not got at drawing but i'm gonna try to make some of their designs.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

48 notes · View notes

california-doom-merchants · 7 years ago

Text

My birthday’s tomorrow. I wrote a thing.

25 Things I Learned Before I Was 25:

1. No matter what, there are people around you who have less than you have and who deserve to have more. The most important thing in the world is to try and balance that out as much as you can.

2. There are millions of ways to tell someone you love them. Sometimes it's with words. Sometimes it's with a hug. Sometimes it's by tagging them online every time you see a picture of Kermit the Frog. @saddadsexclub

3. It doesn't matter if you fail once, or twice, or a hundred times, before succeeding. What matters is the trying. Unless you're a brain surgeon, that you're gonna want to ace first time round.

4. Part of being a friend is listening to their problems and giving advice. If you get into the situation where you feel like that's the ONLY part of being someone's friend, you need to take a step back and re-evaluate.

5. There are very few problems that can't be helped by a cup of tea and browsing bad memes on Facebook.

6. If multiple people give you unsolicited compliments on something, you can probably be pretty self-confident about it.

7. If you're struggling then your friends will help. They're always more accepting than you pictured.

8. Having a shouting match at a train station at 3am is not a good idea and may result in you being deservedly mocked years after the fact.

9. A beard is less your problem than it is to the person who's spending time in close proximity to your face. Take their advice on the thing.

10. Watch lots of films. It's relaxing, it broadens your mind, and it means you're less likely to have people exclaim “you've never seen The Lion King??” at you.

11. That said, if you spend a semester at university barely leaving your room and watching horror films, you're unlikely to look back on that with a sense of fulfilment and pride.

12. Every thing you fret about having not done? After having done it, it feels ridiculous to have worried about it. Every time.

13. In theory. another person's political or religious beliefs shouldn't be a barrier to you being polite and courteous towards them.

14. In practice, an awful lot of people are bigoted upper-class fucks who not-so-subtly want to kill the poor.

15. It's perfectly fine to enjoy obscure movies and obscure music, as long as you're not too smug whenever you see The Big Bang Theory or hear Justin Bieber.

16. Making someone who's feeling down laugh is one of the best feelings in the world.

17. If you follow someone on social media who you've never met and they seem pretty cool, message them, because it's actually pretty simple to make some amazing friends out of that.

18. If you see a typo and you still understand what the author's trying to say then you shouldn't be making a big deal out of it.

19. Minor acts of kindness can have an impact far beyond what you can imagine so, you know. Do them.

20. If you buy a big red coat and wear it on a night out then you will make a lot of friends very quickly.

21. If you get the opportunity to travel, say yes.

22. If you get the opportunity to study abroad, try not to bang on about it too much afterwards.

23. People who put lots of effort into making other people happy are people worth getting to know.

24. The bigger an organization is, the more cynical you should be towards it. Cynicism as an all-encompassing life philosophy is as easy and tempting as it is wrong.

25. The world is a dark and dangerous place. But that's not all it is.

4 notes · View notes

twdeadlysins · 6 years ago

Text

What Lies Ahead: Part Two

Season two, episode one (2/3)

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon and Reader

Word Count: 4,947

Warnings: Slow burn, minor mention of abuse, the usual walking dead violence, language, blood, and such with possible typos.

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners. (only gif I could find for this unfortunately :/)

With tumblr being stupid and all, my Masterlist can be found linked in my bio to catch up or what not and I will reblog this with the taglist. Sorry for the inconvenience... hopefully this gets fixed soon.

Daryl’s POV

“Sure this is the spot?” Daryl questioned, peering into the hidden spot where Rick had instructed Sophia to stay put at. It was a hole in the raised ground with roots and grass hanging, perfect for cover, so why wasn’t she there?

“I left her right here,” the cop pointed definitively, knowing he was a hundred percent sure. He gestured in another direction explaining how he drew the walkers way off up the creek and killed them. “She was gone by the time I got back here. I figured she just took off and ran back to the group. I told her, go that way and keep the sun on her left shoulder.”

Daryl dragged his limbs through the water to approach where Sophia would’ve gone to get back to the highway to inspect the ground. “Hey, short round,” he called, making Glenn turn his head to the hunter. “Why don’ ya step off to one side? Yer mucking up the trail,” he rasped.

“Assuming she knows her left from her right,” Shane tailed off, referring to what Rick had said mere moments ago.“Kid’s tired and scared, man. She had her a close call with two walkers, got to wonder how much of what ya said stuck.”

“Shane, she understood me fine,” Rick sternly said, annoyed at him for suggesting it was his fault. Daryl believed him and a little girl as smart as Sophia wouldn’t have had a problem listening to his instructions, something else happened. Rick wasn’t at fault.

Daryl examined the ground before saying there were clear prints, that she did in fact head back to the highway, but obviously she never made it there. “Lets spread out, make our way back,” the archer waved, ready to use his tracking skills, but instead of finding food … he had to find a missing person.

He surveyed the footprints and continued to follow them with the three men close behind until the tracks went off course. “She was doing just fine ‘till right here,” Daryl said as he bent down. “All she had to do was keep going. She veered off that way,” he gestured.

“Why would she do that?” Glenn inquired bewilderingly from behind him.

“Maybe she saw something that spooked her, made her run off,” Shane suggested, wandering his eyes over the three of them.

“A walker?” Glenn scaredly asked.

Daryl lightly shook his head, “I don’t see any other footprints, just hers.”

The hunter noticed how silent Rick was, so he glanced over to see him in thought, looking over at the footprints and towards the bushes and other greenery where Sophia went to.

“Maybe there aren’t any other footprints because no one was chasing her… she was being called for,” Rick muttered deep in thought.

“What?” All three men said, confused at what he was talking about. There was no one else in the woods besides them, how could someone be calling for the girl, Daryl thought.

“Y/N ran after her as soon as it happened … by the time I caught up, I only saw Sophia still running for her life.”

Daryl abruptly stood up, fuming on the inside, barely keeping his cool on the outside. You were missing too and he didn’t think to mention it? “Why didn’t ya say this before?”

Rick sighed as he rubbed his face, “I don’ know… I was so caught up in Sophia.”

Daryl strided over to the bushes where the tracks led off course, but he didn’t see a second set of footprints. “Y/N won’t here, she never ran into Sophia.”

“Y/N can handle herself, probably already back at the highway with the res’ of ‘em,” Shane confidently said, but it didn’t ease Daryl’s worries. “So what do we do now? All of us press on?”

“No, better if you and Glenn get back up to the highway. People are gonna start panicking. Let them know we’re on her trail doing everything we can, but most of all, keep everybody calm,” Rick instructed.

“I’ll keep ‘em busy scavenging cars, think up a few other chores. I’ll keep ‘em occupied.” Shane nodded and motioned for Glenn to follow as Rick and Daryl went to see where Sophia’s tracks led to.

Daryl tried his best to focus, but it was difficult when all he could think about was you. All these ‘what ifs’ flooded his mind, all ending with you being dead. He didn’t want to see walkers devouring your corpse, you suffering, or a bite mark… all he wanted to see was that you were okay, that you had just gotten lost or some other excuse. All he wanted was a reason that ended in you being alive. He hoped you were back at the highway.

When Shane suggested that you were most likely back waiting at the interstate, Daryl didn’t believe it even though he wanted to. He knew that you wouldn’t stop searching for Sophia until you found her, just like how you didn’t give up on getting Glenn back or how you kept convincing Jenner to let you all go and live … you were a fighter.

“Tracks are gone,” Rick said, bringing Daryl out of his thoughts.

The hunter scanned the dirt in front of them. “Nah, they’re faint, but they ain’t gone. She came through here,” he pointed. The tracks were barely there, but he could see them. After all, he had been doing this since he was a kid.

“How can you tell?” Rick questioned. “I don’t see anything. Dirt, grass.”

“Ya want a lesson in tracking or ya want to find that girl and get our ass off that interstate?” Daryl smart mouthed causing Rick to shut his and continue to trek behind him.

They were casually brushing past trees when they suddenly heard leaves rustling. The sudden sound caused them to quickly get down and the hunter to wield out his crossbow, searching for the source. Rick pointed out a single walker out in the woods ahead, but just as Daryl was about to nod, he noticed a figure lying down where the walker was heading. The archer tapped Rick and alerted him on what he saw before motioning for him to go in one direction while he went in the other. Once Daryl got in position, the cop whistled and just before the walker bent down to feed, he turned and roared at Rick before an arrow went through his skull.

Daryl strided over to the undead corpse to retrieve his arrow from its skull while Rick sped over to the figure lying among the dead leaves and dirt. He wiped his arrow against his pants to get the gunk off and went to reload his weapon before a gasp and your name left Rick lips. The hunter froze once he faced the both of you, you were still unconscious on your side, facing Rick, making it difficult for Daryl to believe it was you. The more he stared, the more it set in… your signature combat boots, your plain black tee, and your long Y/H/C hair… it was you.

Rick carefully flipped you over onto your back before caressing your face, ushering you to wake up. Daryl snapped out of it and crouched, scanning your body for any bites, but all he could see were cuts alongside your forearms and that your head was bleeding.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Rick softly questioned. Daryl’s heart sped up with relief once he saw your lids move before fluttering open to reveal your Y/E/C irises.

Y/N’s POV

The blurriness of green and a ray of light peeking in caused you to squint and wince, feeling a dull ache slowly form in your head. You blinked several times and noticed two faces looking down on you, one calling your name… the accent was so familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to.

“Y/N, it’s Rick, you okay?”

“Rick?” you croaked before peering over to your other side to see a much more clearer Daryl. “Where- where am I?” you questioned, looking beyond the hunter to see a walker dead a second time on the ground. The corpse jogged your memory and you frantically sat up, ignoring the stinging of your forearms. “Oh my god, Sophia. Where is she? Is she okay?” you hysterically asked, your orbs searching for answers from them, but they just glanced at each other with disappointment.

“We’re still looking,” Rick informed you, not making eye contact as his voice was laced with sadness.

“Then let's go look for her then,” you said, choosing to ignore the pang in your chest at the thought of her lost and alone as you carefully stood up.

“Nah, yer goin’ back wit the rest of the group,” Daryl stood up, throwing his crossbow over his shoulder before he turned his back to you. “We’ll drop ya off.”

“What? No! I’m going to help you guys look for her!” you said in a raised voice not understanding why you couldn’t join them. It was a waste of time in going back to just drop you off, that time could be spent finding Sophia.

“Ya still have a concussion!” he shouted as he quickly turned around, inching closer to your figure. “That’s why ya passed out! Ya almost became lunch for that dead sonuvabitch,” he angrily pointed at the walker, his glare still fixated on you and you swore you saw a vein popping out of his neck. He was pissed at you, that was obvious, but was it because he actually cared for you or did he just think you were reckless? Either way it didn’t matter, his fumes were rubbing off on you and the fact that you hadn’t talked to each other in almost three days played a factor.

“There you go again! Yelling at me because I tried to save someone!” You stopped before you could rant, remembering you two weren’t the only two people on the planet, walkers could come at any moment because of the noise and Rick was standing there letting you two hash it out. “I’m going whether you like it or not because it’s in my blood… I’ve always been like this. I put others before myself, so can we stop arguing ‘cause we’re wasting daylight,” you frustratedly said, stomping past the archer not caring for an answer.

You were about to skip over the walker that Daryl put down, but an idea sprung into your head making you backtrack and kneel down next to the body. You brushed stray strands of hair out of your face and tucked them behind your ear as you looked up to Rick, reaching your open palm for his gloves to which he gave, knowing what you were doing. You slipped on the fabric and lifted the dead’s hands, surveying it’s fingernails, earning a question from the hunter.

“What’re ya lookin’ for?”

“Skin under the fingernails,” Rick answered for you, making the redneck hunch over to look closer. The walker’s hands were filthy and you couldn’t exactly tell if there was skin with the dirt, so you pushed the corpse on it’s back to inspect the teeth. One glance and you could tell it fed recently which made your stomach take a turn. Not because you’d have to search to see what it fed on, but because of the thought that crept into your mind… what if it was Sophia?

The sounds of you picking flesh out of its teeth made you grimace, but you’d seen worse unfortunately. After you got a piece out, you brought it up for both of them to see. It was impossible for anyone to know what kind of flesh it was, so Rick pulled out his knife saying there was only one way to know for sure before tearing open the shirt. Before Rick could get into position to gut the walker, Daryl stopped him and offered to do it.

“How many kills ya skinned and gutted in your life? Anyway, mine is sharper,” Daryl said as he whipped out his blade, getting into a stance before lifting the knife above his head to strike the abdomen.

You had hunted, skinned, and gutted plenty of animals numerous times, so you were an expert in your book… but this? This was different and absolutely disgusting. Your prey’s insides aren’t supposed to be decaying and smelling foul, and the sight of it all was even worse, so you couldn’t help the look of disgust plastered on your face. Rick seemed like he was going to hurl, but the clenching of his jaw and hard expression kept him from doing so.

“Now comes the bad part,” Daryl said before scooping his gloved hands into the walker’s abdomen, searching for the stomach. The horrid smell intensified as he tossed some guts on the ground, so you brought up your gloved hand to your nose to protect yourself from the stench. Daryl had his palms in deep when he confirmed that the walker had a big meal not too long ago, that he could feel it. He brought out the stomach and placed it in front of Rick for him to search through. Once Rick had cut open the bag, the two of them dug through it to find a woodchuck skull which made you sigh of relief knowing your chances of finding Sophia was still there.

The sun was setting as you all made your way back to the highway, but the three of you still shouted and looked out for any sign of Sophia. It sucked knowing she was scared and alone and you kept reminding yourself that you wouldn’t be of any use to her in the dark, but that didn’t stop you from blaming yourself. You dreaded every step you took on the way back knowing you’d have to see Carol’s distraught face, that you made it back, not her daughter. If you could trade places with Sophia, then you would. She was just a child, she didn’t deserve to be lost in the woods, fighting to survive.

“You didn’t find her,” Carol sighed, causing your heart to break at the softness of her voice, the desperate need to find her daughter. You were hugging yourself as you trudged behind, still climbing up the hill as you heard Rick tell her that Sophia’s trail went cold, that they would pick it up again at first light.

“You can’t leave my daughter out there on her own, to spend the night in the woods,” Carol cried, making you stop in your tracks.

“Out in the dark’s no good. We’d just be trippin’ over ourselves, more people gettin’ lost,” Daryl softly reasoned, holding the strap on his crossbow over his shoulder.

“But she’s twelve,” Carol hurriedly replied. “She can’t be out there on her own. You didn’t find anything?” she desperately pleaded.

“I know this is hard, but I’m asking you not to panic. We know she was out there,” Rick assured, trying to do his best to calm her down, but you knew all too well that a mother wouldn’t rest until she knew that her child was safe.

Paperwork was the one thing that sucked most as a cop, it would be so much easier if you could just make an arrest and be done with it, but nope. You had to book the suspect and do this and that, all the tedious work that came after the fun. You had stacks of files and papers on the front desk since you were put on reception while Patrick went on his lunch break, so you decided to do your work from there. You were in the middle of writing a report when the front doors slammed open and a distraught woman came pacing up to the front desk.

“I need- I need an officer,” she stammered, tears pooling from her eyes.

“I’m Officer L/N, ma’am, what do you need?” you quickly stood up, with your hands raised in a calming manner to ease her state while you scanned her body to check if she was harmed in anyway.

“My- my daughter,” she sobbed as she shakily raised a photo of a little girl who could be no more than ten years old smiling at the camera as she was holding a bouquet of flowers to what seemed to be a dance show she was in. “She’s missing. She was supposed to return home after she had- she had a playdate with a neighbor that lives a couple houses down, but she never made- she never made it home,” she cried.

“Okay, I will file a missing persons report and the officers and I will do everything in our power to bring your little girl back. I promise.” you assured, taking the photo so you could use it to broadcast it on the local news.

“Thank you so much,” she smiled with relief.

“And we tracked her for a while,” Daryl added, trying to help, but you knew that anyone could say anything and it would do nothing for her.

“We have to make this an organized effort,” Rick announced to everyone. “Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I’ve asked him to oversee this.”

You carefully continued to limp up the hill seeing that it was the right time to make your presence known since you didn’t want any attention taken away from the thing that mattered most.

“Is that- is that blood?” Carol asked breathless, looking at Daryl’s pants which made the hunter look down. She started to breathe heavily, so Rick told her that you guys had taken down a walker in the process, that there was no sign it was anywhere near Sophia.

“How can you know that?” Andrea questioned which made Rick look over to Daryl wanting him to explain, but you beat him to it.

“We cut it open… made sure,” you softly spoke, earning Carol to steady and ease herself to sit on the guardrail, from the looks of it she was on the brinks of passing out. Lori had sat beside her to comfort her and you glanced over to where Shane and Glenn stood to see them both giving you a smile of relief, glad that you were okay. You gave them a tight-lipped smile and nodded, feeling horrible for letting your features show happiness when such a tragic thing has happened and the moment was short lived.

“How could you just leave her out there to begin with?” Carol bitterly inquired to Rick. “How could you just leave her?” she repeated before looking over at you. “And you, you were on it the moment it happened, how did you lose her? How?”

Rick had told you what had happened with Sophia on the way back, that he had hid her to go lure the walkers away and kill them. It was the smart thing to do, so you didn’t see him at fault. You wondered if things would’ve been different if you two took on the walkers or if you would’ve hid with her while he killed them or you somehow managed to find her on your own. Hell, you would’ve done the same thing Rick had done if you were in his shoes. You didn’t blame Carol either, she just wanted her daughter to be safe and projecting her grief onto the easiest people to blame was to be expected.

“I was hot on her tail… so hot that I took one of the walkers down with me. Once I killed it, I had already lost her and when I heard her yell… I passed out from a concussion I got when the C.D.C…” you trailed off, looking down at your fingers that you began to fidget with.

“I had to draw them off,” Rick began to explain. “It- it was her best chance.”

“Sounds like he didn’t have a choice, Carol,” Shane said, leaning up against the rail.

“How was she supposed to find her way back on her own?” Carol sobbed as Lori had her hand on her shoulder. “She’s just a child. She’s just a child,” she muttered. Rick kneeled down and kept saying it was his only option, the only choice he could make in the situation.

“My little girl got lost in the woods,” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face and you had enough, so you limped off and shook your hands as you made your way down the road to be alone. You didn’t want to hear her suffering knowing you played a part in it, deep down you knew it was out of your control, that you did everything in your power, but it wasn’t good enough to you. Sophia was stranded out in the woods only god knows where and that was because you couldn’t protect her, couldn’t get to her in time. You should’ve just hidden underneath the same car Carl or Sophia were using, there were endless possibilities all ending with her with you, safe and sound, but of course things didn’t go the way people wanted them to.

You stopped walking, noticing you were going too far from the group back at the RV, so you slid down against the side of a car to rest since your right hip was killing you. It was starting to affect your entire leg since the injury was where the two joints connected, causing you to limp. The impact on the guardrail must’ve left a humongous bruise not only on the skin, but on the hip bone as well which is better than having a fracture, you’d just have to see what it looked like later. After settling on the ground, you stretched out your arms in front of you to inspect the cuts from when you tumbled down the hill with your knife still within your grasp. You sighed seeing specks and a few streaks of dirt, not really surprising, but some of the brown dust most likely got embedded into your wounds which could cause an infection. The thought caused you to throw your head back and shut your eyes in frustration against the vehicle knowing you had no type of medicine to treat it if you had one, not even over the counter pills for a simple headache.

The sound of your name made you open your lids to see Glenn give a sympathetic smile your way before you patted the area next to you. He obliged, keeping a little space in between the two of you and it stayed like that for a while. You fumbled with your fingers, rubbing one of the tattoos that was inked into your skin that brought you comfort while you stared off into the sky, the memories of what happened today replaying in your mind.

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” he softly spoke, tearing his eyes away from the ground to peer over at you. You brought your attention onto your fingers before glancing over at Glenn with guilt written all over your face, tears threatening to spill.

“It might as well have been,” you whispered, the tightening of your throat prohibiting you from speaking louder to which you thanked. If you were able to say anything above one, you would start choking on your own words only to end up balling.

You took a deep breath and looked everywhere, but Glenn. “I can’t help, but blame myself especially with how everyone looked at me… they looked at me like I murdered their favorite pet,” you mumbled, fiddling with a short string from one of the rips in your jeans.

“Who cares what they think. I know… I know that’s hard to do, trust me, I know I couldn’t do it, but I know you can,” he sternly said before grabbing your hand. “You’re probably the strongest person I know. You know what happened out there and what you did, you know the choices you had at the time, so don’t blame yourself, okay? Cause I don’t.”

“Thanks, Glenn,” you sniffled, forcing yourself to give a somewhat smile his way. His speech didn’t make your thoughts of the situation go away just like that, but it did help… you’d just have to work on it… on yourself.

He stood up, still holding your hand, “I’ll help you get back to the group, clean those cuts.” You weren’t exactly wanting or prepared to head back, but you had to go sometime. Glenn had one hand around your waist while the other held your wrist as your arm was draped over his shoulder. It was difficult to keep weight off of your leg considering using your hip was impossible to avoid, but you somehow managed to keep the pain at a minimum with his help even though you hated how slow you were going. You weren’t one to ask for help and technically you didn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to just do it yourself.

Once you approached closer to the group, Shane had noticed and dropped what he was doing to come help. “I got it, I got it,” you repeated, holding your free hand up in protest while you withdrew your arm from Glenn’s shoulder to walk on your own. You felt the Korean hesitantly let you go before you limped over to the steps of the RV with Shane eyeing you with his hands on his hips, fighting the urge to assist you. You carefully propped yourself onto the steps and once you did, you loudly exhaled because of the pain and how relieved you were that it was over.

“At least let me clean those cuts,” Shane offered annoyed, causing you to glare at him, but you nodded knowing they needed to be disinfected… if they weren’t already infected.

Glenn had left to go talk to Dale while Shane bent down in front of you with a rag and a jug of water making you raise a brow at him. “Where on earth did you get that?”

He peered over to the jug and looked up at you with the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “I found a whole truck filled of ‘em,” he bragged as he grabbed your hand to wipe your wounded arm. That was the best news you heard all day and all you did was laugh along with him with the shake of your head. Every time the dampened cloth met a cut, it made you slightly wince as it stung causing Shane to mutter an apology here and there.

After he was done, he plugged the cap back into the container of water, tossing the rag on top before standing up. “Now we don’t have any bandages for you to wrap, so be careful… will ya?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll try my best, doctor.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Now let me see your hip since I’m your doctor,” he joked and you abruptly shook your head. “It’s not even that bad.”

“Now yer a good liar, I’ll give ya that, but I’ve known ya forever, so come on,” he waved his hand with the other on his hip before rubbing his nose giving you a playful look knowing you were stubborn.

You were going to lose this fight, so you stood up and frustratedly pouted as you unclasped your belt and slid the side of your pants ever so slightly and lifted your shirt to expose the skin of your hip. You heard him intake a sharp breath before he placed his hands on his knees to lean forward for a better look and his reaction told you what you already knew.

“Y/N, it’s pretty bad,” he frankly said, compelling you to look yourself. There was a big patch of discoloration with reds and purples all over your hip which was normal for a bruise at the beginning stages, so you’d have to watch for any changes to prove your assumption of it being a bone bruise.

“It’s covering your entire tattoo and that thing is huge,” he stated, standing up straighter as you continued to inspect the area not realizing Daryl was approaching.

“Rick… wants all us,” the hunter trailed off, making you look up to see him stare at your bruise with the same pity you saw back in the city. You hurriedly let go of your shirt to pull up your pants and button it, shouting all these profanities in your head that he saw.

“Y/N,” Shane called as you were trying to buckle your belt, so you hummed. When he didn’t answer, you looked up to see the two of them still standing there, Shane waiting on you to give him your full attention while Daryl was watching the two of you. “Ya need to keep it easy, don’t walk too much.”

“Easier said than done besides it barely hurts,” you shrugged earning a doubtful look from your best friend as you smoothed down your shirt before trudging past them to where you saw Rick and the others. You didn’t even care to look at Daryl, you were still pissed at him for earlier. He kept treating you like a child, like you weren’t capable of your own. You were in the military, you were a survivor in an abusive relationship, you were a fighter, you were in a zombie apocalypse… you could handle yourself just fine. If you died doing the right thing, then so be it… at least you’d be remembered a hero and not a coward.

___________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading! What did you think of this part? Any feedback is much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts, criticism, suggestions, etc! Sorry that this took me so long and it’s not even that great :///

149 notes · View notes