#pls read i am begging :') | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vintagepascal · 1 year ago

Text

yours in the morning

word count - 11k+ (lord help me, so sorry this took so long)

rating - mature, minors DNI

content warnings/tropes - violence, threats to life, angst, children in dangerous situations, enemies to lovers if you squint, cat calling, sexual harassment, guns, smut, kidnapping its an emotional rollercoaster okay

summary - in a desperate attempt to save yourself, you end up kissing Javi in a bar, which puts you in enough danger that he feels like he needs to protect you... if he can

———————————————————————-

All you had wanted was one fucking drink. And you’d earned it too - after the day you’d had, no one would have judged you for downing your vodka the way you just had in the bar behind you. They may have given you a bit of a look for the second one, but fuck it. Your self defense instructor from back in the states, however, would have much to say about where you were now.

Walking the streets of Colombia at any time could be seen as dangerous, especially as a foreigner who stuck out like a sore thumb, but you weren’t doing yourself any favors tonight. Purse on your hip, still in your work scrubs, by yourself as the sun set behind the town lights, with a ten minute walk home ahead of you.

Textbook bad move.

Of course, you weren’t a total idiot. You had a few tricks up your sleeve that you could use in a pinch if you had to. But most days you were smart enough to avoid getting yourself into a situation where you would have to worry. Straight to the hospital and straight home, in the daylight if you could help it.

Tonight was not one of those nights, and it seemed that luck was not on your side. Even with the bit of fuzziness in the edge of your vision, you noticed the three men leaned up against the car immediately. They were a few blocks away, but you took note, pretending to look busy and crossing the street quickly.

The knot in your stomach tightened when the tallest of the three stood up, beginning to move in your general direction. It was only then that you noticed the car. Raised bed, nice tires, new rims. There were only a few people in Colombia who drove cars like those, and everyone knew it too.

Bile began to rise in your throat. Suddenly, the ever present humidity was even more stifling, the exhaust of the cars and constant haze of cigarette smoke choking the oxygen out of the air all around you.

The women in Colombia had a code, even for outsiders. You never, ever, went with anyone in the cartels if you could help it. But if they took you? You did what they asked, and you didn’t fight, or you’d never make it. Rule number one was to avoid it at all costs.

“Aye, preciosa, ¿a dónde vas?” One of them called out. You kept your eyes down on the pavement, quickening your steps. Could you make it to your apartment?

No, that would be a stupid move. You couldn’t lead them to your house. You racked your brain for any safe havens between where you were and the safety of your place. It was true that the embassy wasn’t far, but that seemed like a bit of a stretch, and you knew they wouldn’t let you get that far. In the distance, you saw the faint lights of La 40, the bar closest to your place. Surely you could make it there.

The men were enjoying the chase. You chanced one glance behind you and sure enough, they were on your heels. You could barely hear their catcalls over your heartbeat in your ears.

Just get to the bar, just get to the bar and find someone, make them think you’re with someone, find someone who will help you, just get there, just get there, you chanted mentally over and over.

A hand grabbed your shirt, yanking you backwards momentarily. You felt something rip, shred, and you didn’t stop to think. You shoved at them as hard as you could, the keys in your hands puncturing skin hard enough to startle, giving you a chance to break free. And you started to run, full speed, towards the purple lights of La 40, practically bursting through the doors when you got there, not caring about the looks you got. You knew they wouldn’t be far behind you, and you didn’t put it past them to try to take you from there, especially since you’d drawn blood.

In the few seconds you had to spare, you scanned through the bar. It was sparsely filled up with groups of friends, and the occasional lonely man. Sitting at the bar was the only one who looked the part you needed - handsome, alone, strong. He was nursing what looked to be a whiskey, and you could see a gun holster on his belt.

Perfect.

You heard the men yelling behind you, and you weren’t sure if it was the vodka or the adrenaline that made your next move, but you didn’t hesitate. Instead, you walked straight across the bar to the man you’d found - who luckily had seemed to notice you as well - and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

Besides the obvious, you had an additional ulterior motive. By catching the stranger by surprise, you loosened him up enough to wiggle your way between his knees, turning the barstool so his body was between yours and the door, his gun on display for the men to see when they appeared moments later.

Your stranger played his part well. After his initial shock wore off, he melted just enough, one hand going to your waist to hold you steady when you pulled away, his other hand on his gun. And he was a damn good kisser, so you didn’t mind that he pulled you back in for another quick one, his mustache just the right roughness against your skin, his lips warm with the burn of whisky that lingered when he pulled back again to look at you.

“Hola, mi amor,” you said loudly, loud enough for the men in the doorway to hear.

“Hola,” the man in front of you said cautiously, not chancing a look behind him. The panic must have been evident in your eyes, because he didn’t hesitate. “You okay?” He whispered to you. You nodded at him once, smiling when he brought a hand up to brush some of your hair behind your ear. You blushed at him, turning your cheek to kiss his palm.

His eyes flitted across your face, then down to your shirt. You followed them, drawing in a sharp breath. There was a gaping hole in your scrubs, and the place where your badge usually hung was entirely gone, as were your credentials. Your heart sank.

“My-my badge,” you whispered. The man in front of you looked confused for a moment, and then angry as he turned his head quickly towards the door. He watched as one of the men dangled your badge in the air and then disappeared out of sight.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “That’s got your hospital and your name? First and last?”

You could only nod. You took a step back, disentangling yourself from him as soon as they were gone. With a huff, he took his leather jacket off the back of his chair, offering it to you. You weren’t cold, but you felt exposed enough to take it gratefully, shoving your arms through the sleeves.

“Do you know them?”

“No”

“You didn’t meet them at the hospital? Are they patients of yours?”

“No, they just saw me outside. Saw I was alone I guess,” you muttered, the memory already making your skin crawl. You looked at your stranger, the disgust in his eyes obvious.

“I’m-I’m sorry about ambushing you like that.”

“Believe me, I didn’t mind. But -”

“They were following me, and I panicked. You seemed like the safest bet in here.” You explained further, already feeling guilty for getting him involved. Had you put him in danger? The thought made you sick.

The man sighed heavily, pinching at his forehead with his hand.

“Well sweetheart, you’re simultaneously really smart, and really, really god damn stupid. You know what they were driving?”

“Red, four door. Maybe a Ford but I’m not sure.”

“How many of them?”

“Three.”

“And they were just outside on the street?”

“Yeah. I was walking home from work.”

“Nurse?” You nodded.

“From the states.”

Another nod.

“What are you doing down here then?”

“Everybody left after Escobar. But they still need people, there’s hardly any nurses here. I just wanted to help.” Your voice was smaller than you liked it to be, and you steadied yourself with a breath. “Wait, what about me picking you out makes me stupid?”

The man sighed before leaning back in his chair, reaching onto his belt loop for something beside his gun that you hadn’t seen.

He pulled out a badge.

DEA.

Fuck.

“Agent Javier Peña, at your fucking service,” he chimed, picking up his glass. “And those guys out there are with Cali.” “The cartel.” It wasn’t a question. You slid back down into the seat next to him, burying your face in your hands. Fucking around with the cops in town never looked good on anyone. “They know who you are?”

“Everybody knows who I am,” Peña muttered, downing the rest of his liquor and raising two fingers at the bartender, pointing at you. Despite your urge to humble him, it was true - now that he had said it, you realized that you had seen him before, on TV. He was known for calling out the political connections of Cali, and he’d made several big arrests.

“Vodka, actually,” you corrected the bartender, rubbing at your eyes. “How bad is this for me?”

“Well, since you decided to jump my bones in front of some of the most dangerous men in Colombia, you just got yourself added to the hypothetical hit list, minus the protection of the US government.”

“You’re kidding.”

He took the new glass of whiskey in front of him and tipped the rest of it back as his answer.

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do?” The bartender sat your glass down and you snatched it, downing it almost immediately. It burned the whole way, and you fought back the gag it threatened to unearth.

“Get on a plane and go home.”

“Not funny, Peña.”

“Not joking,” he shot back. “And it’s Javi.”

“Seriously. Can those guys really find me just from my badge?”

He looked at you incredulously. “They’ll have your address by the end of the night. You can’t go home. They might not go so far as trying to kidnap you, but you’d definitely be in danger of being attacked, especially since you got away from them. They don’t take well to losing. And now that they saw you with me, they’ll just assume you’re leverage to get to the DEA, which makes you priceless. They’re particularly pissed with me at the moment, so your timing is spot on.”

“I thought they didn’t mess with Americans. They always said it was too risky.” You couldn’t hide the hope in your voice.

Javi’s eyes were cold.

“That was Escobar. Cali plays hard ball.”

You fought back the tears that threatened to spill over, pressing your palms into your eyes. It didn’t work, and the colorful mosaic of the bar top was blurry as you tried to settle yourself without much luck.

When you finally looked back up, Javi was staring at you intently, as if he was trying to solve some sort of puzzle. His lips parted a few times with words unsaid before he sighed, running his fingers over his eyes before he looked at the ceiling in surrender and finally spoke.

“C’mon. I’ll take you to your place to grab what you need and you can hole up at my apartment until we find somewhere for you to go.”

“What?”

“It’s my place or the embassy, who will just ship you home.”

Javi dropped enough pesos on the bar to cover both of your drinks and stood up quickly.

“Offers expiring cariño.” He reached for his jacket, remembered that you were still wearing it, and turned towards the doors without another word.

You didn’t see many other options besides standing up and following him out of the bar. To your surprise, he offered you an arm that you gratefully took, seeing that the room was partially spinning. How had your night turned into this? It didn’t feel real. But soon enough you were climbing into his car, watching him move around to the drivers side and giving him directions to your place. It would have been easier to walk with all the traffic on the roads, but you made it there quickly nonetheless.

“I can have a bag packed in 15 minutes,” you told him, but he caught your thigh with his hand before you could move.

“You’re not going in there by yourself. Wait.”

You tried to ignore the way your skin burned while you watched him climb out of the car, pulling his gun out of the back of his pants while he walked around to your door.

“Might as well play the part,” he muttered after he opened it for you, offering you a hand. You walked quickly with him, unconsciously squeezing his fingers as you walked down the hallway to your apartment door.

“Let me clear it first,” Javi said, motioning for you to stay behind him and wait. You handed him your key, trying to control your breathing as he disappeared through your doorway, pulling you in behind him and placing you by the door.

A few minutes later, he returned, gun still in hand.

“You’ve got ten minutes. I’ll keep watch.”

He posted himself at the door, eyes already flitting back and forth across the corridor as you ducked inside. You didn’t have time to think- you grabbed your suitcase and began shoving your most worn clothes in, your scrubs, your makeup and everything from your shower. You hadn’t brought many comfort items from home, but you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind. Into the bag they went, followed by a few pairs of shoes and your favorite blanket.

You rolled the suitcase to the door and out to Javi.

“That was fast, I’m impressed,” he chuckled, taking the handle.

“One more thing and I’ll be out.”

You headed back inside quickly, reaching into the hall closet to find the carrier you’d only recently purchased.

“Bear, cmon buddy, we gotta go, cmon,” you called out, peeking around the apartment until finally you spotted him, cowering in the corner of your bathroom. You felt awful having to grab him and push him into his carrier, but you knew it would all be forgiven once he was safe. You gathered his essentials as well and took them to the hallway before emerging with his carrier and closing the door behind you.

Javi’s eyes blew wide when you reappeared.

“Is that a cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You’re not bringing your fucking cat to my house.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and attempted to stand your ground by setting your feet, but you didn’t anticipate for the world to suddenly be spinning. The final of the vodkas had finally gotten to you it seemed.

“I’m too drunk for this conversation sir. Either take me and Bear, or leave me here to be disappeared or whatever the cali fucking cartel does to people,” you slurred with what you hoped was a smile, turning on a heel towards the car. A strong hand on your elbow turned you in the opposite direction and kept you from slamming into a wall. He was muttering in Spanish under his breath as he led you to the car, gruffly putting you in the front seat before locking the door and going back for your things - Bear included.

You let your head rest against the cool glass of the window, hoping it would sober you up slightly on the drive. It served its purpose well enough, though the ride was short. You were able to at least carry Bear as Javi took your bags, eyes darting around as he hurried into an unassuming complex. Even drunk, you noticed that it took three separate keys to get in, and once you crossed the threshold you felt safe for the first time since you’d spotted the men on the street.

Javi’s apartment was cooler than you expected - both in temperature, and in style. It was obvious that Uncle Sam was paying a pretty penny for a place like that so deep within Bogota, but you couldn’t quite be bothered about the details when you noticed that there was a nice leather couch in the middle of the living room.

You began to walk towards it, and suddenly the tile floor was spinning up towards you.

“Jesus christ,” Javi muttered. There was a crash, presumably your suitcase falling as he dropped it, catching you instead. “You’re alright, I’ve got you” was the last thing you heard before the morning.

The first thing you noticed were the sheets.

Silk.

Definitely not your bed, and definitely not the couch.

The lights were still out, but there was enough sunlight filtering through the blinds to illuminate the room and simultaneously hurt your eyes. The squint it caused immediately alerted you to your headache, causing you to roll over and bury your face in a pillow.

Something rough bit into your neck.

A zipper. A leather jacket zipper, from a man who you were suddenly very concerned about.

You sat up quickly, head spinning a bit as you tried to scan the room, gather your surroundings. On the bedside table sat a glass of water and two small pills you recognized as advil. You took them gratefully, already feeling the pounding behind your temples.

The air was chilly - a rarity in Colombia and a testament to the dedication of the AC unit you could hear whirring in the window. Even over the hum, you could hear the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen. You pulled the sheets back, wrapping Javi’s jacket around yourself tightly and following the noise. Javi was in the kitchen, shirtless with his back turned to you. You couldn’t help but take the opportunity to stare at him. He was even more beautiful without the clothes - strong, sharp lines down his back that lead to the waistband of his pants.

When he turned, you pulled your eyes up as quickly as you could, but his smirk let you know that it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Buenos dias,” he hummed.

“Good morning,” you blushed, pushing your hands into your pockets. “Thank you, for last night. I feel better than I deserve.”

“You’re welcome. Also, your kitten is a menace.” He frowned at you.

“Sorry, he can be a bit shy around new people but he’ll warm up.”

Javi quirked an eyebrow at you and ducked down for a moment. When he stood back up, Bear was in his hand, gnawing on his finger.

“Yeah, real shy. He’s been trying to make a meal out of me all morning. What’s his name again?”

“Bear. At least, that’s what the woman who was feeding him in the street told me his name was. But that’s the only English word she said to me, so who knows if she was even giving me his name. He never responds to it anyways.”

Javi walked over towards you, sitting Bear down. He immediately greeted you, rubbing against your legs.

“Oso,” Javi said. Bear immediately looked up, and you were surprised to see Javi smile. “We’re gonna have to start some Spanish lessons for you if you’re so intent on staying in Colombia. Which is still a terrible idea, by the way.”

“I’m not leaving just because some assholes in the street decided to catcall me. They probably didn’t even recognize you anyways.”

Javi looked at you incredulously.

“Do you know the first fucking thing about the cartel? Their reach? Any idea what the hell they’re capable of?”

His tone made your blood boil, both under your cheeks in a blush and in your fingertips, which gripped the edge of the counter. You didn’t take kindly to being spoken down to, especially hungover.

“Yeah actually, I do. I’m plenty aware of what both Cali and the DEA are capable of. Generally, when you all are raining bullets down in the middle of towns, I’m one of the nurses stitching up the aftermath.”

He was silent for a moment. Two pieces of toast shot up from the toaster on the counter, but only you jumped at the sound.

“All the more reason for you to just go home before it gets worse.”

“Who's to say they’re even going to come after me anyways? Javi, it feels like we're blowing this wildly out of proportion. So they saw me with you, big fucking deal. It doesn’t mean they’re going to target me - I know nothing about the DEA, or anything special about the cartel. I’m not actually important to you, and if they can really find all that information about me they’re going to figure that out pretty damn fast.”

His eyes were cold when he turned to you. He looked as if he was ready to say something, but he stopped himself, thinking better of it. Instead he turned back around, putting one piece of toast on a plate and passing it to you, along with butter and a small jar of jam.

You ate in silence, the tension palpable as you tried to think of the next thing to say. Javi seemed to be doing the same, stealing glances towards you that he thought you didn’t catch between bites of toast.

You finally broke the silence. “I should just go home.”

“To the states? I’ll book your flight.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not an option.”

“Fine.”

Javi stopped mid bite, quirking an eyebrow at you. Obviously he expected more of a fight. You turned on a heel and went back into the bedroom in search of your suitcase. It wasn’t hard to find - Javi didn’t have many things to begin with, and your bag stuck out like a sore thumb. You ignored the wrinkles in your scrubs as you pulled them on, wrapping your hair up in a bun and promising yourself a good shower later as you finished getting ready.

You knew that getting out the door wasn’t going to go smoothly. So you set your jaw and took a deep breath before you opened the door, not looking away from the exit as you headed straight for it.

He was quicker than you thought.

His hand hit the door just as you opened it, slamming it back shut.

“You don’t seriously think you’re going to work.”

“Move, Javi.”

“Tell me you aren’t this stupid.”

“Move.” You repeated.

He didn’t budge, or warrant you with a response.

“If I realized that going with you last night meant being kept prisoner in here, I would have picked differently.”

“Yeah? And your night would have ended very, very, differently.”

You chose to ignore that jab.

“We have security at the hospital. I’ll tell them what’s happening, they can keep an eye out for me. And I’ll come straight back here after if that makes you feel better.”

“This isn’t about making me fucking feel better, Y/N. It’s about keeping you alive. Cali owns this entire fucking town, they probably are the security at the hospital.”

“Then what the hell do you suggest I do Javi? And if you say go back to the states one more fucking time, I swear to god-”

“Just…” He leaned up against the door frame, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had the night before. “Just give me a day or two. Call in today, let me get some stuff arranged and we can figure it out.”

Every part of you wanted to argue with him - it burned hot in the back of your throat, but there was something in his eyes, something earnest and true.

Why do you care so much?

You chose your next words carefully. “Figure what out, exactly.”

“How to keep you safe.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” He obviously didn’t trust you after your earlier stunt in the kitchen.

“Yes, Javi. Fine. I’ll give you today, and I’m already off tomorrow. But then I’m going back to work, one way or another.”

“Okay.” He looked you over a few times before turning back to the apartment and disappearing into his room.

You wandered back towards the kitchen, busying yourself by cleaning up the plates from breakfast. Javi emerged shortly after in an outfit similar to what he was wearing the night before - devilishly tight jeans, with a bright red button down tucked in behind a belt, gun holster and badge on his hip and the outline of a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

“Phone is over by the table. Help yourself to whatever you can find, but there isn’t much. I’ll bring dinner later. Don’t leave the house, and don’t answer the door. Por favor,” he added sweetly at the end, throwing you a small smile before slipping out without another word.

The next eight hours were boring to say the least. Javi’s apartment was the epitome of a bachelor pad. After you called in with the bullshit excuse of a stomach bug, you went on the hunt for something to entertain you for the day. The news was too depressing, every DVD you found was in Spanish, and otherwise, all you came across was liquor and various empty shelves in need of decor. It was obvious the man lived in his office and simply slept in his home, but you lucked out, finding an old English copy of Wuthering Heights tucked away on a shelf in his bedroom when you went to change out of your scrubs.

It helped you pass the time, and Javi held true to his promise of bringing dinner home later that evening, coming through the door looking much more exhausted than when he’d left, with two paper bags in his hands.

“Arepas,” he muttered, placing them on the counter. “Necesito ducharme, estoy asqueroso. Puedes comer sin mí.”

You stared at him for a moment over your book cover and he looked back, confused before he sighed.

“Sorry. Long day. I’m gonna shower, I’m sweaty. Feel free to eat without me if you’re hungry.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you,” you answered, turning the page and pretending not to notice the way the sweat on his back made his shirt cling to his muscles. Damn. You really had picked a good one to follow home.

Fifteen minutes later and he was back, rubbing a towel over his head as he spoke.

“Come eat, I’m fucking starving.”

He was shirtless and in a pair of linen pants that took all of your focus to keep you from drooling over. They left little to the imagination, and you were grateful for Bear on your lap, or you may have gotten up embarrassingly quickly to follow him to the kitchen.

There was a new energy buzzing around the apartment again - it had been faint in your haze last night, and you’d blamed it on the vodka but it was undeniable now. Unlike many others, you didn’t feel uncomfortable around Javi though. It was almost an excitement, a school girl nervousness that had you unwrapping your first arepa with your eyes cast down and afraid to look at him standing across the island from you.

Javi was the one to eventually cut the tension. “So what’d you get up to all day?”

“I read mainly. Hung out with Bear. Or Oso I guess I should be calling him,” you chuckled. You’d only managed to find snack foods throughout the house, and the meal was welcome to your grumbling stomach. Javi didn’t hesitate to dig in, and somehow it was endearing to watch the crumbs get caught up in his mustache. Watching him be less than perfect broke his stoic persona.

He looked back over at the couch, noticing your book choice.

“Are you a Brontë fan?”

“It’s the only thing in English I could find. Are you is the more important question.”

He pondered it for a moment, eyes inquisitive as ever while he chewed before he shook his head.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. So, is it inappropriate for me to ask you what you did all day?”

“Inappropriate?” He quipped around a bite of his barbacoa.

“I’ve heard you aren’t supposed to ask cops that. And, I’m not sure if you’re allowed to tell me anyways. Thought maybe it was top secret or something.”

That got your first true laugh out of him. “I don’t work for the CIA hermosa, it’s not highly classified. Mainly just run of the mill surveillance. Most stressful part of the day was watching your hospital, actually.”

“What were you doing at Marly?” You asked earnestly.

“I figured you’d be on my ass about when you could go back to work as soon as I walked in the door, so I’ve been trying to find an answer for you all day.”

You waited, chewing quietly.

“They’re more lax than I’d like. But, there’s only your one main entrance and the ambulance bay, so if you can give good enough descriptions to your security guards they can probably keep you safe enough. Does anyone else know your work schedule?”

“My manager is the only one. It’s posted on the board when I get there so the other nurses know who is on the floor, but that’s required for safety. No one knows ahead of time though, so shouldn’t be a problem,” you reassured him before he could ask.

He nodded at the new information, chewing through another bite of his arepa. The rest of dinner, and Javi’s two whiskeys, went down quietly, but you couldn’t help but tell him at the end of the night what had been on your mind since he’d gotten home.

“Thank you. For doing all of this when you didn’t have to. I wasn’t fair to you earlier.”

“You’re welcome.” His tone was sincere, and it made you relax. “It feels nice to help someone. Feels like all I’ve done since I came back down here is play damn politics. And I get it, it doesn’t feel good to be controlled.”

“So… I’m forgiven?”

Javi gave you a true smile, and you felt your heart catch in your chest a bit.

“Forgiven, cariño.”

The rest of the evening went quickly, and suddenly you were faced with the realization that you’d forgotten about since that morning when you went in search of your suitcase.

Javi’s place was a one bedroom.

You’d made up your mind by the time you’d brushed your teeth - over complicating things would be a bad move this early. And so you headed back to your couch, grabbing a blanket and towing it over to you.

“Can I borrow a pillow?”

“What for?”

“The couch.”

Javi waited for an explanation, then laughed when he realized what you meant.

“You don’t seriously think I’m gonna let you sleep on the couch, do you? Mi madre would roll over in her grave.”

“I don’t see another option,” you murmured, picking at the fuzz on the edge of the blanket so you didn’t have to look at him.

“I don’t bite cariño. We’re just gonna sleep, yeah? It’s a king bed, won’t even know there’s someone else there. Promise.”

If your pulse was any indication, you doubted that. But, you’d learned one thing for certain in your short time with Javi - he wasn’t one to back down from an argument. And so you sighed and brushed past him to the bedroom, avoiding looking at him as you climbed back into the bed you’d woken up in. You swore you heard him chuckle but you chose to ignore it, relieved when Bear jumped up onto the mattress and bumped up against your hand, giving you a welcomed distraction from Javi, who was looking around the room for something. Eventually, he grabbed his gun, his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, placing them carefully on his nightstand.

He climbed into bed gently, as if he was afraid to jostle you. He did feel far away, but there was a tension between you, a rubber band someone could strum with the slightest flick of their finger.

“Goodnight, y/n. I’ll try not to wake you up in the morning, I have to go in.”

“It’s fine Javi. Goodnight.”

•••

The routine settled in as easy as a key in a well made lock. Javi drove you to work each morning you had a shift, and was there waiting for you like clockwork at 7pm on the dot when you left each evening. You shared dinner with Oso playing at your feet. After two weeks straight of arepas you’d finally demanded that Javi let you go to the market, which he of course demanded he accompany you to on his lunch break. But at least after that addition, on nights you didn’t work he came home to a fresh cooked meal, claiming that you ‘spoiled’ him. You felt it was the least that you could do considering you were living under his roof. Other small things changed. He brought home a few more books in English for you. You unpacked your suitcase. The space in the middle of the bed had gotten smaller. Some mornings you even woke up with a leg thrown over Javi’s, or your fingers touching under the sheets. Neither of you mentioned it.

It was comfortable, and simple.

Until it wasn’t.

He was supposed to be home at 6 that night. He wasn’t the most punctual of individuals, so you didn’t start dinner until close to it anyways. By 7, the pasta had gone cold, and by 8:30 you were pacing the living room, eyes darting towards the phone each time you walked past it. The last time he’d been running late he’d called, and that was when he was going to be home at 7:30.

He’s probably just on a call. Surveillance. Maybe he had to travel. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

By 9, you were searching every shelf in the house for some form of the Colombian yellow pages, desperate to find the number for the DEA, or the embassy, or anyone who could tell you where he was.

You were so engrossed in your search that you didn’t even hear the first two locks on the door click. The third one was louder, and it was the only warning you had before the door burst open.

“Y/N!? Y/N! Where are you!?” Javi’s voice boomed louder than you’d ever heard it, echoing through the apartment.

He found you before you could answer. You didn’t have time to process what you saw - his drawn gun, his wild eyes, the tear in his shirt or the blood running down his arm. It was all gone too quickly. All you could see was white linen, all you could feel was a strong arm around you as Javi held you to his chest in a bone crushing hug, the tightest you’d ever experienced despite him only using one arm.

“Javi, what-”

Then he was dragging you, towards the door as he clicked the locks back into place one by one, sucking in each breath through his teeth as he held you against his chest, still checking his six, gun metal cold against the back of your shoulder, your face still pressed to his chest.

“Are you okay?” He whispered to you, just loud enough for you to make it out.

“I’m fine Javi, tell what’s happening,” you pleaded for an explanation.

You smelled it then - that metallic smell that you associated with work, and usually chased quickly with bleach.

Blood. The image of him running in came back to you and you fought against his grip and won, leaning back so you could see his arm.

You knew a bullet graze when you saw one.

“You’re shot,” you breathed, brain clicking back on. “Why the fuck didn’t you go to the hospital, why did you come back here?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, chest pushing into yours as he fished into his back pocket and handed you something square and white.

Your knees buckled when you recognized it.

Your badge.

“What-”

“That was on the hood of my car. They’ve been watching us.” His eyes were still just as wild, his chest still heaving, and you were afraid he was going to collapse in the doorway. There was no way you could move him if he went down.

“You left out the part where you got shot,” you said, just to keep him talking. You weren’t sure you could take hearing him tell you about getting hurt.

“Got ambushed trying to make it back here.”

“In your car?” He shook his head. Only then did you realize how sweaty he was.

“You ran here?”

“I lost them on the way,” he shifted his shoulder, then groaned, head rolling back.

“You should have gone to the hospital Javi.”

“Had to know you were safe,” he panted. “Besides, I’ve got a nurse.”

Despite all his pain, he offered you a smirk that made you want to smack him and kiss him simultaneously. Instead, you just shook your head and tucked yourself under his good arm, leading him over towards the bathroom as smoothly as you could. He winced the whole way, but you could tell he was trying to keep himself quiet for your sake.

You had never been more thankful for your paranoia than you were when you pulled out your spare medical kit from under the sink. You’d seen too many accidents in the street, too many times where you didn’t have what you needed that you’d stocked up and vowed to always have the essentials. Sure, you’d rather have a hospital supply room, but you had enough to get him stable.

Javi looked pale, leaned up against the porcelain edge of the bathtub as you scattered supplies around you, throwing anything you didn’t need out of your path in search of sutures and iodine, gauze and bandages. You ripped his shirt the rest of the way off his arm, panicking when he didn’t react. His eyes were screwed shut, sweat still pouring down his face.

“Javi, baby you gotta keep talking,” you muttered, opening the first package with your teeth.

You received a hum in response, but nothing else until you poured the iodine on to disinfect the area. Javi’s good hand shot out towards anything he could grab as you began to dab at the wound. His fingers curled into your thigh hard enough to bite, but you didn’t care.

“Tell me about Texas,” you demanded, moving to straddle his thigh and get a better angle - the bullet had grazed his bicep, and it wasn’t as deep as you had originally thought now that you’d cleared some of the blood.

“Texas?” He mused, voice much weaker than you’d like.

“Tell me about Texas,” you repeated. “What’s it like there?”

“Hot.” He rasped. “Dry.”

“Good, that’s good Javi. Keep going. Where’s your favorite place in Texas,” you coached him as you pulled out a needle. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but you knew you were going to have to stitch him up if you had a hope of stopping the bleeding before he fully passed out on you.

He began to murmur about the state while you prepped your sutures, the guilt already heavy in your stomach about the pain you were about to cause him. You let him talk about the Rio Grande and a trip with his dad, happy to hear his voice until you had to cut him off.

“Javi. I have to stitch you up. It’s going to hurt, but you have to sit still. Okay?”

He only nodded at you, eyes darting between yours until you broke away, leaning over him to brace against his arm, pressing the needle into his skin.

“Mierda,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and your thigh tighter.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be done soon, Javi, I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” he grit out through his teeth, but you could tell it was anything but. You tried your hardest to go as quickly and smoothly as you could, using every bit of medical training you had to stay calm and collected until the last suture was through and his skin was pulled back together. You tied it off, letting out the breath you’d been holding as you leaned back.

“Done. It’s done. I just need to wrap it and I can let you rest.”

He only groaned in response - you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, head still leaned back on the porcelain.

“Gracias,” he murmured when he felt the gauze begin to wrap around his skin, taping it off as gently as you could.

You stood up off of his lap, but he caught your ankle before you could move towards the door.

“Don’t.” Even as weak as he was, there was authority to his tone that made you listen.

“I just need to clean up the blood, get some rags from the kitchen.”

“Use the towels. Don’t want you out of my sight.”

You were so relieved to hear him speak a full sentence again that you didn’t argue. Instead you grabbed the white towel and ran it under the water, wiping away the blood stains on Javi’s skin gently, methodically. When you looked up, he was watching you, his eyelids still heavy.

“You this nice to all your patients?”

“I try to be,” you smiled despite having to switch to a new rag almost immediately, the first one saturated red.

“Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“Not funny Peña.”

“Not joking, Y/N.”

“Shhh,” you instructed. “Nurse’s orders.”

He obeyed, though you weren’t sure it was entirely a choice. He looked exhausted as you continued cleaning him up, your breath coming easier with each bit of skin you revealed from under the blood.

When you were done with his arm, you surveyed Javi again. His pulse seemed stronger, his breathing more even. The adrenaline was wearing off, and in turn the exhaustion from his escapade was catching up to him it seemed. You used the last clean rag to clean his face, wiping away the sweat. He leaned into your palm a bit, grateful.

“We need to get you to bed Jav. Can you stand?”

“I can try,” he huffed, looking a bit sheepish. You got yourself settled under his good arm and heaved with all your might, glad that he was able to help as much as he was. His injured left arm hung practically dead next to him - he wouldn’t be able to use it much for a few days, that much you knew.

You led him to the edge of the bed, ignoring the butterflies it put in your throat to bend down and untie his shoes, slide them off his feet with his socks. Next was the remaining scraps of his shirt. You expertly unfastened the buttons, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders gently and tossing it on the floor.

“Stand up,” you instructed. You couldn’t look at him as you reached for his belt, pulled his gun out of his waistband and checked the safety the way he’d taught you before placing it on the bedside table. You’re just helping him. Just like a patient. You’re just helping. You repeated it over and over and you coaxed the leather of his belt through the loops of his pants, trying to ignore the way it set your core on fire. You unbuttoned his slacks quickly, careful not to touch more than you needed as you pushed the zipper down. They fell just enough and you were grateful to see boxers beneath - it wasn’t lost on you that Javi wasn’t a stranger to going commando, but he usually refrained at work. You pushed them down from his hips, letting him steady himself on your shoulders as he stepped out of them.

“This is humiliating cariño,” he whispered as you stood back up.

“I doubt you’re going to remember it in the morning,” you reassured him, but you hoped that he did. “Lay down, get some rest.”

“Stay in here. Need to know you’re safe.”

His words were already slurring as he followed your instructions. You knew you could leave as soon as his eyes closed, get the bathroom clean, get him some water, but something about the sentiment pulled at you, and you couldn’t help it. You wanted to stay.

“I’ll be right here Javi. I’m safe.”

With his good arm he caught your hand, squeezing it weakly as if to reiterate it.

“Stay.”

You obliged him, climbing gently into your usual spot next to him, taking care not to jostle the mattress. Before you could overthink it, you placed a hand on the center of his chest, felt the rise and fall with each breath he took. He was snoring after 15 rises, and you relaxed for the first time since he came in the door.

Only then did you let yourself actually begin to process what had happened - picturing Javi with guns pointed at him by faceless men, your badge in their hands, his blood dripping behind him in the streets - you felt the tears begin to prickle. You let them fall for what felt like hours before you could finally understand that it was relief that caused them - relief and sadness and gratefulness and anger and… love.

So in his peaceful sleep, you allowed yourself to touch him like you wanted to. You ran your fingers through his hair, dark strands soft against your skin. You even chanced a few traces along his face, down his nose, over his cheek and down his jaw, memorizing him. He stirred and you pulled back, not wanting to disturb his rest.

He was peaceful for a few hours as you kept watch, and then things began to change. It started with his head - when he first turned towards you, you almost thought he was trying to cuddle. But he turned away just as quickly, muttering something in spanish. His movements grew faster, his breathing quickening as his arms started to tense up, wincing in pain as he strained his wound. You recognized it then. Nightmare.

“Javi, Javi hey, wake up, wake up,” you said, gently shaking his shoulder. You flicked the lamp on so you could see him better.

“No, no no don’t,” he groaned, and you watched as his good arm reached for the bedside table.

As quickly as you could you climbed across him, knocking his gun out of reach. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of you on top of him or the crash of metal hitting the ground that startled him awake, but either one brought him up gasping and grabbing at you.

“Javi! Javi it’s me, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you repeated, bracing on his chest.

His eyes were wide as you came into focus, and to your surprise his hands immediately went to your face, cupping your cheeks.

“Oh christ, you’re alive, oh gracias a Dios (thank god).”

And then he was kissing you. Desperate but somehow gentle, his lips were against yours, his neck strained up to reach you as you hovered above him, too shocked to move as he held you. When he pulled back and his head fell against the pillow, his eyes searched yours, darting back and forth as he brushed the hair from your face with gentle fingers.

He moved his left arm too much chasing a strand, and the pain seemed to pull him back to reality, shock replacing the fear as he realized what he’d just done.

“I’m sorry mi amor, I had a dream you were dead… I should have asked, I-”

You shook your head before he could finish stumbling through his words.

“Ambushing each other is kinda our trademark, no?”

He gazed up at you for a moment, calculating his next words carefully.

“If my memory serves me, you got two kisses in at La 40,” he hummed, hands moving slowly down your sides to settle on your hips. “So I think I’m owed at least one more.”

You let out a breath of relief when you realized his confidence was back and that whatever had plagued him in his sleep seemed to have passed. You dipped down to kiss him sweetly, letting your lips linger against his as he chased you just enough to keep you there for a moment longer before you sat back up.

It gave you a sense of confidence, his warm hands on your hips as you straddled him, and even you were surprised at the next words you said.

“And the nurse who took care of you? What’s she owed?”

That earned a chuckle from him, and you melted down into him as he kissed your forehead. His bare chest was warm, skin heating yours through the thin material of your tank top, but his next words set you on fire.

“She can have whatever she wants.”

You hummed, leaning down to kiss him earnestly, letting yourself have what you had been craving for weeks without even realizing. Javi tilted your head up with his good hand, lips finding your neck. His mustache was rough against you and you groaned at the feeling, settling your hips down over his, seeking friction anywhere you could find it. The rubber band had finally snapped between the two of you, and you couldn’t get enough.

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispered, breath sending goosebumps all along your collarbone. Something about him giving you an out made everything ten times hotter.

“Please don’t,” you begged, pulling him back up to your lips. He groaned into you, grabbing at your hips to move you and hissing at the pain it caused.

“Easy,” you cautioned.

“Not in my nature,” he retorted. You smiled, shifting your hips to press against him like you knew he wanted, resisting the urge to laugh at the way his head fell back against the pillows just barely.

“Let me take care of you.” You ran your nails gently down his chest.

“Not in my nature,” he repeated, but his breathing was already getting heavier.

“I thought it was whatever I wanted.”

It was Javi’s turn to smile, and you gasped as his hands slid into your shorts, down over your ass to squeeze softly, kneading the flesh and pulling you along his own hips. The rhythm was electric, and you didn’t feel like arguing anymore, too caught up in him to care. You tried over and over again to speed him up but he kept you steady, back and forth as he grew harder and harder below you.

He guided you through it, lips tracing a pattern along your jaw, up to your lips and back down to your throat, along your collarbone until you were practically clawing at him.

“Need more,” you moaned into his mouth, hands in his hair.

“Then take it.”

You didn’t need telling twice. You reached between your bodies, pulling him out of his boxers easily. He was velvet soft in your hand and you couldn’t help yourself - you began to stroke him gently, achingly slow.

But Javi wasn’t one to be out done. He sat up slowly, leaning against the headboard so he could free up his good arm. You helped him get your shirt off, and as soon as it was over your head his fingers dipped into your waistband, cupping your folds and making your hips buck into him.

“Sucia,” he breathed, sliding one finger inside, making your nails dig into his shoulders. He put up a good front, but you could see his pulse in his throat, and you knew your unfaltering hand was having just as much of an effect on him.

You gave in first, pushing his hand away and scooting back up to straddle him. He caught on immediately, helping guide you up so you could sink down onto him. You went slowly, giving yourself time to savor each inch of stretch and sting and Javi.

“Fuck,” you groaned when you finally settled fully, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. He was big, there was no denying it.

“You okay hermosa?” He murmured, holding you steady. You nodded, shifting just barely and groaning again. You had never felt so full before, even just breathing was enough movement that you could feel him shift inside you, making your eyes water.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you reassured him, trying to find your words.

“Takin’ me so good baby,” he hummed, kissing your jaw. You leaned back to give him more access and the shift was delicious. You followed it, lifting your hips up just enough and moving back down slowly.

It was Javi’s turn to moan then. His fingers dug into your hips and he grit his teeth, using every bit of restraint he had to not pound into you the way he wanted to.

You moved again, bracing on his shoulders but careful to avoid his arm. Based on the way he was groaning, you weren’t sure he would care if you stitched him again - he might not even notice.

“Need more cariño, whatever you can give me,” Javi said, screwing his eyes shut. You gave him what you could, lifting up and lowering down as quickly as you could.

“So fucking tight.”

You couldn’t really hear him anymore - you could only feel. You set a pace, willing your muscles to relax as you began to rock above him, wiggling your hips back and forth.

He thrust up once and it was game over.

Your orgasm came out of nowhere, ricocheting from your core to your fingertips. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, and you collapsed forward, chest to chest with Javi as your body shook.

He stilled until you did, and then he was back to moving, lifting his hips and pushing against your fluttering walls. You whimpered at the sensation, and he wrapped his good arm across your back, hooking around your waist.

“Doin’ so good cariño, so good for me,” he groaned. “Give me one more.”

“I can’t,” you panted, still reeling.

“You can.”

Something about the demand in his tone had you pushing down to meet his hips. Your teeth sunk into the muscle of his shoulder as he chased his high, pulling another orgasm out of you that had you practically blacked out as he came with a resounding groan, burying his face in your hair.

“Holy fuck,” was all you could pull from your burning lungs as you both settled in the afterglow, Javi tracing patterns along your back.

“Fuckin’ a,” Javi chuckled, kissing your head. “What a day we’ve had.”

“How’s your arm?” You hummed, leaning up just enough to check his gauze. You frowned at the fresh blood you could see.

“I’m fine. Had much worse, believe me.”

“Guess sex is off limits till you heal,” you sighed, looking up at him through your lashes.

“No deal,” Javi argued, making both of you laugh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. Besides, you can wake me up for that anytime,” you hummed, shimmying up to kiss him again. When your lips grew tired, he rolled you over, tucking you up to his chest and coaxing you to sleep.

Your nights ended up with the two of you intertwined for the next month. Javi’s arm healed well, and he put it to good use every chance he got. He was busier at work, with new breaks happening in his case, which meant every evening you actually got to spend together was precious.

And the evenings you weren’t together were spent wishing you were - at least, when you had a spare minute. But that night, you didn’t have many seconds to spare, much less minutes.

It had been a long time since you’d been pulled off your typical unit at the hospital, but the emergency department was short staffed, and with multiple gun fights in the city they needed all hands on deck. The ensuing chaos put you in the ambulance bay, with a radio to your ear getting details of an incoming 9 year old gunshot wound case in the truck you could see pulling up.

Right where they wanted you.

It happened quickly, and quietly. There was a child in the bed of the truck, covered in blood. You wouldn’t find out until afterwards that he worked for the cartel - simply a pawn to get you to climb into the bed and assess him. Your mind was racing, and though you’d never admit it, you were only half present with your patient. The other half of you was imagining Javi, desperately hoping that he wasn’t somewhere caught in the crossfire.

It put you just enough off your game to not notice that the passenger had gotten out of the truck, snuck around the side.

You didn’t know what he hit you with. Javi would find it later - a brick, stained with your blood, left in the street. He knocked you out, gave the child his payment and drove away with you in the bed, covered in a blanket.

And so your nightmare began.

You awoke in a foreign bedroom, sitting on the floor. Unsure of how much time had passed, unsure of where you were - all you knew was that your head was pounding, your hands were tied behind your back, and ankles tied together. You didn’t dare make a sound. There was a window covered in newspapers with a sunbeam shining through a gap, landing on your shoe and illuminating the blood left on them. Your stomach turned and you swallowed down the bile in your throat.

All you could do was a quick self check - you were sore, your shoulders tight from where they were pinned back, your neck pinched from where you were leaned up against a metal bed frame. You could feel that your head was split somewhere, with dried blood caking your hair that you were desperate to itch. But otherwise, you seemed to be unharmed. So you started to plan.

There was nothing in the room you could see that could be of use, and as you looked you heard them for the first time - voices, in the hall, that made your palms sweat and your heart race. You tried to picture their faces, but everything was blurry in your memory. The only face that seemed to come to mind was Javi’s. His sweet smile, right before he’d kissed you goodbye that morning from the driver’s seat and sent you into the hospital.

You’d give anything in that moment to go back to that first morning, to have him bracing the door and demanding that you stay home.

“Focus. Fucking focus,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. Javi had told you what to do if anything like this had ever happened.

“You stay quiet,” he’d said. “Don’t try to lie your way out, don’t tell them anything, even if you think it’s what they want to hear. No matter what they do, you survive, and you stay quiet until I get to you.”

So when the first man walked into the room, you set your jaw. You found a small black dot on the wall across from you and locked onto it. You let yourself disassociate, let the man’s words, his blows, his kicks, wash over you one at a time as if they were nothing. Deep down you knew he was angry, knew he was going to come back. But you stared at your speck, and willed yourself to be okay.

Time passed, more men came. More blows. More time. Maybe even a day.

Your facade broke only once, when you heard a familiar name, a break in the murmur.

“... Peña. Dinos dónde está perra, o estás muerta.”

You looked up then, only for a moment, and then back to your speck, repeating the words in your head.

Javi is coming. Javi is coming. Javi is coming.

You had no way of knowing just how close he was. The last 64 hours had been some of the most stressful of his life. He’d arrived at his usual spot outside of the hospital, and he’d given you fifteen minutes before he was headed through the front doors. He didn’t bother stopping at the front desk - the night that you’d gotten stuck in a patient’s room past shift change, they had sent him upstairs anyway.

He didn’t start to panic until they told him you had changed units.

He found the brick in the ambulance bay as soon as he burst through the doors, and put the pieces together after that. His next stop was the store across the street to get their security camera footage.

When he found the cameras disabled, he ripped a shelf to the ground on his way out and called his team.

The next hours were spent surveying every piece of footage they could get their hands on until they finally, finally spotted a vehicle that came and left the hospital far too quickly.

When Javi saw the bedsheet in the bed of the truck, his lunch remade its appearance in the back of his throat.

He didn’t let himself believe you were dead, though he could tell his team thought otherwise. They knew better than to even suggest it though. The office had never been busier, between tracking the red truck across the neighborhoods to running possible mugs to figure out who could have possibly taken you. Javi couldn’t stand to stay still, so he spent every hour on the streets, running surveillance and tracking down every possible crumb that his men fed him. He had everyone involved, every person who owed him a favor, every single individual he knew in Colombia that he thought may help.

The crack came when one of Javi’s reporter connections sent him a lead, a cartel member who fit the description of what he was looking for. The entire team took to the streets, and by an act of luck, or possibly a higher power Javi would be thanking for the rest of his life, he found the truck, tucked into an alleyway on the south side of the city.

Inside the apartment, your speck was getting harder to see.

You weren’t exactly sure why. It seemed like it was getting harder to stay awake, but you fought your weary eyes. Awake meant alive, no matter how painful.

There were new noises in the hall. They were hard to hear over the wheeze of your breathing, but the man in the room with you muttered something before he left. You didn’t dare look away from the speck, afraid of what you might find. But you let your ears wander.

One gunshot sounded, and then it was all yelling and commotion, too much for your exhausted brain to sort through. You leaned closer to the door, hoping to hear something recognizable. One inch too far and suddenly you were falling to the side, unable to catch yourself. Your face hit the carpet, hard, startling you out of your daze. You desperately searched the wall for your speck, but it had disappeared, invisible from your new angle.

“No, please,” you cried, your lifeline suddenly gone.

Another gunshot rang out from downstairs and you screwed your eyes shut, curling your knees up to your chest, accepting what was to come. You hoped in that moment that anyone but Javi would find your body, and that he would know that you tried.

More commotion followed, and you curled up tighter when you heard the door burst open.

“Mi amor. Cristo.”

The hands that found you were as gentle as a feather, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. The now familiar sound of a knife clicking open sounded out through the room and you whimpered, waiting. But instead, a bit of friction on your wrists and then they were free, then your ankles.

“Open your eyes Y/N. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, and you were met with pools of deep brown - you’d know them anywhere, and the relief was almost your undoing.

“I’m here. You’re safe, you’re alive. I’m here.”

You nodded once, unable to move more than that. His lips on your forehead were a welcome comfort before he scooped you up from the floor.

“Close your eyes,” he told you, and you listened, burying your face in his neck and letting him carry you out to the car.

There were others outside. You could hear them, but you kept your face hidden. Javi spoke to them briefly, instructed them on what to do and selected one of them to drive. Almost immediately he was climbing into the passenger seat of a larger car with you in his lap, and you were on your way.

The tears were falling by the first street you turned down, burning your raw cheeks. Javi felt them, hot and wet on the collar of his shirt.

“Shh, shhh shh amor. I’ve got you.”

He was scared to hold you too tight, to agitate the injuries he could see. But that didn’t stop you from clinging to him with everything you had in you. You clawed at his shirt, dragging yourself as close as you could to him, breathing him in, trying to make yourself believe that you were really truly there with him. Safe. Alive.

You lifted an arm up, ignoring the way it pulled at your sore muscles, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you had so many mornings.

“Javi,” you whispered.

“I’m here mi amor.” He kissed your forehead again, blinking back his own tears at the sound of your voice.

“I love you.” It came out too quiet, but you knew he heard it from the way he choked out a small sob.

“I love you,” he replied.

You sighed, wincing as you let your muscles relax.

“What? What is it?” Javi’s hands ghosted over you, too scared to touch and make it worse.

“It hurts.”

“I know, baby. We’re going to the hospital, we’re going to make it better. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay.” You clung to his words with everything you had left and let your eyes close, the exhaustion finally taking over, safe in loving arms.

#THIS TOOK ME SO DAMN LONG FUCKKKK #pls read it i am begging for feedback okay im unashamed #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #my writing

440 notes · View notes