Summary:Javier Peña is injured during a mission, and you’re forced to take care of him while stuck in a small, one-bedroom cabin.
Warnings: 18+, mdni, injury (bullet wound), one bed, close proximity. Pedro Pascal
Wc: 1,340
The mission had gone south quickly.
It had started like any other operation—precision, stealth, and quick thinking. But things escalated when Javier was shot. It wasn’t a serious wound, thank God, just a graze across his side that was bleeding more than it should, and that’s how you found yourself in the remote cabin, tending to his injury in the middle of nowhere.
I'm fine,” he muttered, slumping against the wall as you wiped away the blood with a disinfectant soaked cloth. His eyes never left the floor, and his jaw clenched in that stubborn way you knew all too well.
You shot him a skeptical look. “If you're fine, then why do you look like you're about to pass out?” He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t. Javier Peña was a man who hated showing vulnerability, even if he was the one who’d just been shot. His pride always came before everything else, including the reality of his injuries.
The tension in the room was suffocating, the kind that came from two people who knew each other too well and not well enough all at once.
His eyes flicked to yours, dark and unreadable. “I said I’m fine. You don’t need to—”.
“Don’t,” you cut him off, sitting back on your heels and glaring at him. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend you’re invincible. It’s not working.”
The room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the storm rattling the windowpane. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your heart skip.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his voice softer now but still edged with that irritating stubbornness.
You froze for a split second, your hand hovering over his side. The heat of his skin beneath your fingers burned like a warning, but you ignored it. “Yes, I do.”
“Why?” The word was barely a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut.
Your fingers tightened around the cloth, and you tore your gaze away from his, focusing instead on the blood staining your hands. “Because you’d do the same for me,” you said, your voice low but firm.
Javier’s silence was deafening, and it made the air between you feel heavier.
When you finally looked up, his face was inches from yours, his expression unreadable but undeniably vulnerable. The proximity sent a jolt through your body, but you couldn’t afford to get distracted—not now.
“Lift your arm,” you said, your voice trembling just slightly.
He hesitated, his eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment you thought he might argue. But then he exhaled sharply and did as you asked, wincing as the motion pulled at the torn skin. You didn’t miss the way his hand brushed against your side, whether accidental or deliberate, and it sent a wave of heat straight to your chest.
You worked in silence, your hands steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Every time your fingers grazed his skin, you felt him tense beneath your touch. The closeness was unbearable, every movement drawing you closer to an invisible line neither of you seemed ready to cross.
“Doesn’t hurt,” he said gruffly, breaking the silence.
“Liar,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.
A low chuckle escaped him, though it was tinged with pain. “You always this bossy?”
You glared at him, your temper flaring. “Only when my partner gets himself shot and refuses to take it seriously.”
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You finished cleaning the wound, your hands lingering on his side longer than necessary. When you finally looked up, the raw emotion in his gaze made your breath hitch.
Finally, you broke eye contact, your voice shaky as you muttered, “You should lie down. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m fine,” he said, the gruffness in his tone not enough to mask the exhaustion bleeding through.
“You’re not fine, Javier,” you snapped, standing up abruptly and pacing to the other side of the small room. The tension in your chest was unbearable, a knot that refused to unravel. You gestured to the single bed pushed against the wall, your frustration bubbling over. “Just take the bed before you pass out.”
He shot you a look, one brow raised, the kind that usually made people stop arguing. But you weren’t most people.
“You’ve lost blood, and you’re hurt,” you added before he could argue. “You need it more than I do.”
“You’re exhausted,” he countered, his voice rough but firm. “You think I don’t notice how you’ve been running on fumes?”
You ignored him, grabbing the blanket you’d pulled off the bed and laying it down on the floorboards. The room was small, cold, and lit only by the flickering yellow glow of the bedside lamp. But you didn’t care. Anything was better than sharing that bed and having to endure the unbearable tension lingering in the air between you.
“I’m not arguing with you about this,” you said, lying down on your makeshift bed. You turned your back to him, pulling your coat over yourself for extra warmth.
He let out a frustrated sigh, but he didn’t say anything else. The sound of him settling onto the bed filled the silence, followed by the creak of the old mattress.
You tried to sleep, but the floor was unforgivingly hard, and the chill seeped into your bones despite your coat and the thin blanket. Every time you shifted, the bruises and tension from the day’s events flared to life, keeping sleep just out of reach.
Eventually, though, exhaustion won out, and you drifted off.
Javier lay awake on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet except for your soft, uneven breathing, a clear sign that you weren’t resting peacefully.
He sighed, running a hand over his face. Stubborn. That’s what you were. Stubborn and self-sacrificing, always putting him first even when you didn’t need to. It made his chest ache, though he’d never admit it out loud.
When your breathing finally evened out, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a groan, standing up carefully to avoid pulling at the stitches in his side. The sight of you curled up on the floor made him frown. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and the thought of you spending the night like that stirred something deep inside him.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
He crouched down beside you, moving slowly to avoid waking you. His hands hovered for a moment, hesitant, before slipping beneath you—one under your knees and the other supporting your back. You stirred slightly, letting out a soft murmur, but didn’t wake as he lifted you effortlessly.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered softly, more to himself than to you, as he carried you to the bed.
The mattress creaked as he laid you down gently, pulling the blanket up over you. He hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering on the edge of the blanket as he looked at your face, now peaceful in sleep.
Shaking his head, he moved to sit back on the floor, resigned to a sleepless night. But before he could settle, your hand reached out, catching his wrist.
“Stay,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.
He froze, his breath hitching as he looked down at you. Your eyes were barely open, your grip on his wrist loose, but the vulnerability in your voice was enough to shatter the walls he’d so carefully built.
After a long moment, he exhaled and climbed into the bed beside you, careful to keep some distance. The mattress was small, and the proximity was impossible to ignore, but he stayed still, watching as your breathing evened out again.
“Stubborn,” he whispered one last time, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
And for the first time in a long time, Javier Peña allowed himself to relax, the weight of the day melting away as the quiet rhythm of your presence lulled him to sleep.
Series Summary: Your roommate, Maria, introduces you to her boyfriend's brother. You hit it off immediately, but when you find out the true nature of his profession, you both decide to remain just friends. But once the four of you eventually move in together, things get... complicated.
-or-
A lovers to friends to lovers fic
Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, smut (18+ MDNI), slow burn, cigarette use, some descriptions of porn (obviously), angst, mutual pining, jealousy, possessive behavior, infidelity (reader cheating on OC), alcohol use
Status: complete
A/N: this idea hit me when I was reading @shellshocklove's I Wanna Be Your Lover. If you haven't had the pleasure, I recommend you reading it. It is a great story and very well written.
Chapters:
1. you're joking, right?
2. sparks on the Fourth of July
3. fun in the sun
4. swipe right
5. roll the dice
6. pitching a tent
7. jack and jill
8. forever
9. hold onto each other
10. just us two
One-shots/Requests:
Roll Call 2: reader and Joel watch some of his porn together
Red Lace & Holiday Cheer: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early.
Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:
Joel's Likes/Dislikes
Floor Plan
Moodboard by @almostfoxglove ❤️
Love Languages
lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics
Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️
Lemme just put y'all on because this fic HAND ME GRIPPING AND JUMPING OUT MY SEAT. Legitness, good story build, good dialogue and interactions with the other characters. Like this shi is fireeeee
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
stormborns
blakekathryn
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
