𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

|ᴘᴀɪɴᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ| Alejandro Vargas x Reader

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Returning wounded from your latest mission, Alejandro proves sweeter and more tender than usual, helping you occupy your mind and body so you no longer feel the pain.

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(Author's note: HI! Just a little note to remind you that what you will read in Spanish, I looked it up on the internet...so sorry if it's wrong, don't get angry with me >_<)

You couldn't escape the piercing gaze of your superior, Alejandro. From the moment you arrived back at the base, you had desperately attempted to evade him, blending in with the sea of soldiers or disappearing into the sprawling base. Anything to avoid enduring another one of his scoldings that grated on your soul, for you were a grown woman and not a helpless child.

You came back from a mission that you and your fellow soldiers had trained tirelessly for, gearing up for this operation for months. For three weeks, you were in the thick of it, experiencing an unparalleled rush of adrenaline being on the front lines. The camaraderie with your old comrades as you fought to improve Las Almas filled you with pride.

It was unavoidable that casualties and injuries would be part of the scenario, and unfortunately, you found yourself among those affected. Amid a crossfire, a bullet found its mark on your left shoulder. There was an undeniable moment of terror, facing the prospect of mortality, yet relief washed over you as the bullet spared your heart. Despite the pain, you didn't relent; instead, you instinctively reached for your dependable rifle, resuming the fight as best as your injuries allowed, ultimately securing victory in that fierce battle.

However, the aftermath took a different turn. Instead of basking in the celebrations with your comrades, you were compelled to hide and steer clear of Alejandro.

His unwavering focus on you always made you feel watched, burdened by his towering expectations. You knew that he wouldn't let you be once he learned of the incident.

Seated in one of the base's changing rooms, perched on a weathered wooden bench, you summoned the strength to shed your heavy, soiled military garments in exchange for something more comforting. Even your comrades strongly urged you to seek medical attention; your wound wasn't one to be brushed aside. Yet, you deferred, prioritizing the more critical injuries needing immediate care from the base's medical team.

"You've acted foolishly," Alejandro asserts upon entering, hands firmly on his waist. His stern, almost angry gaze as he approached you made his disapproval evident. How he tracked you down remained uncertain, whether someone informed him of my whereabouts, but now, with him standing before you, escape seemed improbable.

"Por el amor de Dios, Y/N... your wound isn't something to take lightly." Despite his gruff and irritated tone, his words bore genuine concern.

"I couldn't let this injury hinder my fight," you assert confidently, cradling your injured arm against your body, blood staining your shoulder.

"I don't care," Alejandro retorts firmly, unwavering. "Your stubbornness to complete the mission risked your life with that wound of yours," he concludes, his tone a mix of anger and worry, seemingly unable to comprehend why you failed to grasp the gravity of the situation.

Silent, you maintain a serious expression, meeting Alejandro's gaze head-on.

"I couldn't have forgiven myself if I'd stayed behind while my comrades risked their lives to complete the mission without me," you counter, slowly unfastening my bulletproof vest with your uninjured hand.