#Narcos

[pedrohub]

PEDRO PASCAL as Javier Peña — NARCOS | S03E03 Follow the Money

[joelsknees]

as requested: here is the longer version of this gif set

[joelsrose]

I just started watching Narcos and girl, Steve and Javiiiiiii….I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind being in the middle of all of that…

What about something really fluffy with reader being a goody two shoes secretary or something, like really smart but totally shy…and Javi is flirty and teasing and Steve is sweet to her?

Love your writing 💖

i loved this prompt! hope you enjoy x

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was your first day, and to say you were nervous barely scratched the surface of it. You were practically vibrating with anxious energy, your fingers clutching a notepad like it was a holy text, the strap of your purse leaving a red line on your shoulder as you followed the very pregnant woman you were replacing through the narrow corridors of the DEA field office. The air was thick with heat and the faint tang of cigarette smoke, a ceiling fan turning lazily overhead, as if it too couldn’t be bothered with the pressure of the day.

The woman walked slowly, one hand resting low on her belly like she was holding the baby in place, her voice calm but brisk as she pointed out the important things you’d need to know: the coffee machine that only sometimes worked, the drawer with the good pens that no one else knew about, the printer that jammed if you looked at it the wrong way.

“Here’s the printer,” she said, giving it a gentle pat like a temperamental child. “The agents are usually too lazy to copy their own files, so don’t be surprised if they come sweet-talking you into doing it.”

You nodded quickly, trying to absorb every word and committing them to memory with the panicked focus of someone who absolutely did not want to mess this up.

She paused before heading toward the elevator, shifting her weight with a soft, maternal groan. Her eyes softened as they swept over you. “Buena suerte, cariño,” she said, her voice warm and kind.

“Gracias,” you replied in your quietest voice, the syllables soft and careful on your tongue. She smiled, gave you a wink, and disappeared down the hall.

You took a breath. Then another.

Your new desk sat tucked into the corner, a little nest of organized chaos—files stacked neatly, a potted plant that had seen better days, and a phone that had already rung twice before you figured out how to transfer calls. You were seated there, chewing nervously on the edge of your pen, furiously typing something you hoped was formatted correctly, when a low voice startled you out of your focus.

“Afternoon.”

You gasped and nearly knocked over your water, your wide eyes darting up to find a man standing by your desk—tall, with a calm smile and a gentle glint in his blue eyes. His sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened just enough to make him look like he’d had a long day, but still cared.

“Shit—sorry,” he said quickly, hands raised a little in apology. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blinked, heart pounding, already flustered. “Sorry—I, I didn’t see you coming.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and easy. “You’re new, right?”

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. First day. Is it that obvious?” you asked, trying to smile through your nerves.

“Not at all,” he said, with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. “You’re doing great.”

Your eyes dropped to the stack of papers in his hands—typed reports, some of them dog-eared, all of them marked with red pen. “Do you need those photocopied?” you asked quickly, already half-rising from your seat, desperate to be useful.

He glanced at the stack, then at you, like he hadn’t expected you to offer. “Would you? That’d be real helpful.”

You nodded, carefully taking them from his hands like they were precious. His fingers brushed yours for a moment—warm, calloused—and it sent a weird little buzz down your spine.

“I’m Steve,” he added, smiling down at you. “If anyone gives you trouble around here, let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

You flushed again, muttered a soft “thank you,” and he gave you a nod before stepping back toward the hallway. You watched him go, then glanced down at the reports.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The day had dragged on in the way only long, hot days in Bogotá could—the kind that left a sheen of sweat clinging to your collarbones, your blouse stuck to your back, and your legs aching from running errands across the office like a girl with something to prove. Phones rang, the typewriters clacked with relentless rhythm, and you’d barely had time to sip your lukewarm coffee, let alone catch your breath.

Now, with the sun beginning to dip low outside the hazy windows and your shift nearly over, you were at the filing cabinet, quietly humming to yourself as your fingers skimmed over manila folders—searching, focused, tired.

And then—you heard it.

A low whistle behind you, smooth and deliberate.

You turned, startled, your heart skipping before your eyes even landed on him.

He was leaning against the doorframe like he was born to do it—one arm hooked just above his head, the other resting casually at his hip, thumb tucked into the waistband of jeans worn soft at the edges. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, the light cotton clinging to the heat-slicked curve of his chest, sleeves rolled to the elbows like he couldn’t be bothered with formalities, like formality had never once tamed him. The ceiling fan above him turned lazily, lifting the edges of his dark, slightly mussed hair, and a cigarette sat tucked behind his ear.

No tie. No badge in sight. Just the lazy drape of his frame against the door and that impossible calm in his posture—as if nothing in the world could rattle him, but you just might.

His gaze found you instantly, dragging slowly over your frame in a way that made your throat tighten, like he was memorizing the way the light hit your cheek, the soft mess of your hair pulled up from a long day.

“Didn’t know angels came with filing cabinets,” he drawled, voice low and honeyed, like he said things just to see how they'd sound curling out of his mouth.

You blinked, caught off guard, your cheeks already heating like a match had been struck under your skin. The folder in your hand wobbled slightly in your grasp.

He stepped into the room with the kind of ease most men faked—every movement loose and casual, but still impossibly confident. The cigarette stayed tucked behind his ear as he sauntered closer, boots heavy on the floor, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You always this shy, mami?” he murmured, stopping just a foot away, his voice dipped in curiosity and just enough tease to make your stomach flip. The way he said it wasn’t mocking—it was gentle, almost sweet, like he’d stumbled across something delicate in the middle of all this noise and didn’t know whether to pocket it or leave it untouched.

You tightened your grip on the folder like it might anchor you to the floor. “I’m not shy,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

He chuckled—a soft, amused sound that made your spine tingle.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, voice low, something amused dancing behind his eyes. “You blush easy, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything more without squeaking.

His eyes flicked to the way you fidgeted, and his smile shifted—still playful, but a little warmer now. He reached out slowly, not abrupt or showy, and took your hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. You froze as he lifted it, turned your wrist slightly, and brought your knuckles to his lips.

“I’m Javi,” he said simply, brushing a kiss over your skin like it was a greeting he gave everyone, though something in the way he lingered—barely a second longer than necessary—told you maybe it wasn’t.

Your breath caught. “Oh,” you whispered. “Javier Peña?”

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise—and something smug behind it. Like he wasn’t used to people saying his full name so softly. Like he wasn’t used to being looked at the way you were looking at him now, half entranced, half terrified, all butterflies.

“In the flesh,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, smooth as aged whiskey and just as dangerous.

Then, after a beat, his head tilted slightly, dark eyes scanning your face with slow interest. “No te he visto antes,” he said, the Spanish rolling easily off his tongue, like smoke curling in the summer air. I haven’t seen you around before.

Your lips parted, a soft little sound escaping before you could catch it. Your face grew warm—warmer, somehow—and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers suddenly clumsy.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know Spanish. Not yet. I’m… I’m trying to learn.”

His mouth curved again, but this time, it was softer. Not a smirk. Something quieter. Something that made your pulse stutter in your throat.

“Don’t apologize, cariño,” he said, the word slipping out with so much casual affection it made your knees go a little weak.

Your brows lifted—almost instinctively, like your heart was reaching for understanding before your head could.

He leaned in just slightly, close enough that the scent of his cologne wrapped around you—warm leather, smoke, and something unnameably him.

“Cariño,” he repeated, his voice velvet-smooth, “means darling.”

Your breath caught somewhere in your chest, your throat tightening like a ribbon being pulled gently.

“Oh,” you said, blinking up at him, your lips curving in shy surprise.

He took one step closer, and you didn’t move away—not because you weren’t nervous, but because something about him made it feel like gravity had shifted in the room and you were being pulled toward him, whether you liked it or not.

“If you’re serious about learning,” he said, tone suddenly low and conspiratorial, like a secret passed between friends—or something more, “I could teach you.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, heart hammering, words tangled in your throat. He was so close. So confident. So intentional. And you were just… a girl with sweaty palms and a head full of butterflies.

“I—um… I mean, if you want to,” you managed, instantly wanting to crawl into the filing cabinet and shut the drawer.

He chuckled, low and rich. “I offered, didn’t I?”

Your mouth opened again, but he was already turning, already walking away with that easy, unhurried gait, as if he hadn’t just unraveled you with a single word. He glanced back once over his shoulder, just long enough to catch your stunned expression, and smirked.

“Hasta luego,” he called, like a promise.

You stood there, your heart beating loud in your ears, wondering how a man could make a single word sound like foreplay.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

By the next day, things felt easier.

You still walked a little fast when someone called your name and still triple-checked the spelling on every file, but the rhythm of the office had started to settle into your bones. You knew which drawer stuck slightly and had to be tugged twice, which phone line belonged to which department, and how to make the coffee strong enough that even Peña didn’t complain. You felt—if not confident—then at least not completely lost.

And then came lunch.

Most of the agents took their breaks out on the front steps of the building, perching wherever the sun fell just right. Some ate in the breakroom that always smelled like reheated leftovers and strong cologne. You could hear the laughter echoing down the hallways sometimes, voices calling out, boots clunking against tile.

But you, quiet thing that you were, stayed at your desk.

It felt safer here. The whirr of the fan. The hum of the fluorescent lights. The comfort of your own little corner in the chaos. You’d made your sandwich the night before—plain, careful, pressed in wax paper—and now unwrapped it slowly, laying the napkin across your lap like you were still trying to be perfect even when no one was looking.

That’s when you saw a figure approach from the corner of your eye.

You looked up.

“Hey,” he said, with a soft, easy smile.

Steve Murphy.

He was in his button-down, sleeves rolled up, his tie slightly askew in that charming way like he’d been too busy solving things to fix it. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it a few too many times, and his eyes—so blue and so gentle—found yours like they already knew how to read your every nervous thought.

“Oh—hi,” you said quickly, startled but trying not to show it, straightening just a little in your chair. “What can I help you with?”

He chuckled, low and kind, as if your question had been sweet rather than unnecessary.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes flicking down to your desk. “Just saw you sitting here. Have you had lunch yet?”

Your fingers curled around the wax paper in your lap. “I was about to,” you said, glancing down at your sandwich, embarrassed like you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Here?” he asked, stepping in a little, brows tugging together slightly. “Alone?”

You shrugged, the heat creeping up your neck again. “I… I don’t really know anyone yet,” you admitted, voice soft as your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your napkin. “It’s okay, though. I don’t mind.”

Steve’s expression softened even more. And then, with the same steady calm he always seemed to carry, he leaned forward just a little, one hand braced on the desk.

“Well,” he said, voice soft and laced with just enough warmth to make your chest ache, a small smile tugging at his mouth as his eyes met yours with something quiet and reassuring, “you know me.”

You blinked, startled for a moment by the easiness in his tone, the way he said it like it was a simple truth, like of course you knew him, like that fact alone was enough reason to follow him anywhere.

Your eyes lifted to his, wide and unsure, but already softening at the way he looked at you—gentle, patient, like he wasn’t asking for much, just a few minutes of your time and the tiniest bit of trust.

“C’mon,” he added, his voice low and kind, the words not coaxing but welcoming, like an open door. “It’ll be good to get out of the office for a bit, don’t you think? You’ve been working nonstop.”

Your heart gave a quiet little flutter, a warmth blooming beneath your ribs that you tried not to show on your face. You looked down at your sandwich—still neatly wrapped in wax paper, untouched, suddenly small in your hands—and then slowly looked back up at him.

You hesitated for just a second longer, then nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

His grin widened—pleased, but not smug. Just honest, like he was genuinely happy you’d said yes. “Good,” he said. “Let’s go.”

And then—just like that—he was leading you out into the hallway with that easy warmth radiating off him, like he didn’t even realize how much it meant. Like he didn’t know that, with just one smile, he’d made the noise of the office seem a little less scary, and the world a little less lonely.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Murphy made things easy. He had a calm way about him, the kind that didn’t draw attention to itself but wrapped around you like warmth from the sun. He asked questions that didn’t feel nosy, made quiet jokes that surprised a laugh out of you, and somehow made the walk down the stairs feel like less of a walk and more like… company.

“I know a place just down the street,” he said, holding the door open for you like it was second nature. “Best empanadas in town, no contest.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice lighter than it had been all morning.

“The best,” he grinned. “And I don’t lie about food. It’s sacred.”

You stepped into the humid afternoon together, the city humming with heat and noise around you. You walked side by side on the sidewalk, Murphy keeping just a half step ahead like he was ready to shield you from a rogue taxi or a sudden gust of wind. You were still tucking a piece of hair behind your ear when the scent of cigarette smoke reached you—and then a voice followed.

Low. Lazy. Familiar.

“Bueno, hablamos luego.”

You looked up just in time to see him—Javier Peña, leaning against the edge of the building like a man who belonged to the street itself, phone pressed to his ear, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. His shirt was wrinkled in that unfairly perfect way, tie loose, sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose. He turned his head, eyes catching on you first—then Murphy—and that easy, smooth line of his mouth shifted.

The phone dropped from his ear. “Chao,” he said flatly into the receiver before hanging up without waiting for a response.

“Well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall with slow grace. His eyes dragged over you both, sharp and unreadable. “Where you two headed?”

“Lunch,” Murphy said simply, barely glancing back.

Javi’s smirk curled like smoke. “That so?”

“Yep,” Steve replied, tone easy.

Javi flicked the ash from his cigarette and checked his watch with theatrical boredom. “Damn,” he said. “I’m starving.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he added, voice soft and low, eyes trained straight on you, “So… where we goin’?”

Your heart jumped. Murphy looked over at you, brows raised like he was waiting to see what you’d say. Javi didn’t even bother pretending—he was watching you closely, cigarette still between his fingers, like the answer mattered more than he wanted to admit.

You blinked, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “I… um…”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Murphy said casually, kind as ever.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Javi murmured, eyes never leaving yours.

Your stomach flipped.

Murphy gave him a look—dry, unimpressed—but didn’t argue. He just smiled at you gently. “Up to you,” he said, soft enough that it grounded you.

You glanced between them. The calm steadiness of Steve. The simmering fire that was Javi. And you—stuck in the middle, blushing, trying to decide who your knees would give out for first.

“Of course,” you said, trying to keep your voice from wobbling as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Best empanadas in town, apparently.”

You smiled up at Murphy, and he grinned back, bright and easy like always, a little wrinkle forming at the corner of his eyes, the kind of expression that made you feel like you were someone worth smiling at.

“Damn right,” he said, his hand already in his pocket as if he were checking to make sure his wallet hadn’t somehow disappeared just from thinking about lunch.

And then—of course—Javi.

“That so?” he repeated, his voice lower, slower, and just sharp enough around the edges to cut through the summer haze. He stepped forward, flicked the last of his cigarette to the pavement, and gave Murphy a long, sideways look. “I’d argue I cook better ones.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “You cook?”

Javi smirked, pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them into the front of his shirt. “What, you think gringos are the only ones allowed to throw meat in dough and call it a meal?”

“Didn’t know you had time to cook between all the—” Steve gestured vaguely, “—charm and cigarettes.”

Javi just grinned wider. “What can I say? I multitask.”

Your face was already warm, but it only got worse when Javi’s eyes found yours again.

“Tell you what, cariño,” he said, voice syrupy, way too smooth, “you come over one night, I’ll show you how empanadas are supposed to taste.”

You blinked.

“Oh,” you said, entirely useless.

Murphy glanced at you, gentle and kind, but there was something knowing behind it now—like he saw the way you shifted under Javi’s gaze, like he noticed how easily your breath caught.

And then—just like that—you were walking.

Down the sidewalk, between the two of them, like it was the most natural thing in the world and not completely insane that you were flanked by two armed federal agents who smelled like warm leather and aftershave and power, one radiating sweet protection, the other lazy fire and smirking danger.

Murphy was all calm presence—his gun concealed under his jacket, his steps steady, his voice warm as he asked you about where you grew up, what you liked to read, if you’d tried any Colombian desserts yet.

And Javi? Javi was chaos in a collared shirt—his sidearm stuffed into his pocket like he didn’t care who saw it, hands in his pants as he walked with that signature swagger, eyes occasionally flicking down to you with that same unreadable heat. When he spoke, it was slower, more calculated. Less about facts, more about watching you react.

And God—they both smelled so good. One like soap and sun-warmed cotton, the other like cigarettes and something rich and musky, and you didn’t know if it was the heat or your own mind playing tricks, but your knees felt a little weak, and your heartbeat was tapping against your ribs like a trapped bird.

They were opposites in every way—Steve with his soft drawl and honest eyes, and Javi with his cigarette voice and sin-soaked charm—and yet… somehow, you were drawn to both.

Two storms. One gentle. One electric.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The lunch spot was small, tucked between a hardware store and an old pharmacy, the kind of place you wouldn’t look at twice unless you knew what magic it held inside. The windows were fogged with heat and the smell of grilled meat and cumin wafted out each time the door opened, mixing with the thick air and the street dust that clung to everything in Bogotá. A faded sign above the door read La Esquina, the paint chipped but still proud, and inside, the radio played something soft and lilting in Spanish, the kind of music that felt like a breeze even in the sweltering warmth.

Murphy reached the door first and opened it for you, stepping back with an easy smile.

You blushed, eyes dropping automatically as you passed. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“Always,” he said, gentle and sweet, like it wasn’t anything special, like it didn’t make your heart do a quiet little tumble in your chest.

And then Javi, right behind you, muttered with a smirk, “Thanks, gringo.”

Murphy gave him a look, but Javi just flashed a toothy, unapologetic smile and followed you both inside.

The place was buzzing with locals, the smell of oil and spice and fresh lime lingering in the air. Ceiling fans turned slow above cracked tile floors, and the walls were lined with old posters, curling at the edges, and handwritten specials tacked to a corkboard. Booths lined the far wall, red leather cracked and faded in places, but they gave the place a charm that felt lived-in. Familiar. Warm.

You were still looking around, taking it all in, when Javi’s hand lightly touched your back.

“Here,” he said, already guiding you toward a booth near the window, the sun slanting just right to catch the soft sheen on his forearms. He slid in first—fast, confident, smooth—and made sure there was only one seat left on the inside.

Next to him.

You hesitated for a second too long.

Murphy raised an eyebrow like he might say something, but didn’t.

You sat down.

You could feel Javi’s leg warm against yours almost instantly, his body stretched out beside you with one arm draped along the back of the booth like it belonged there. Like he belonged there. You kept your hands in your lap, trying to pretend you weren’t entirely aware of every inch of him next to you, of the way his thigh pressed against yours with casual certainty.

Murphy slid into the seat across from you both, his jaw tight but his expression otherwise unreadable.

He gave Javi a look. Subtle. Controlled. But it said Really?

Javi didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he leaned back against the booth with that infuriating, devastating ease—his arm still draped along the backrest behind you, his knee brushing yours like it belonged there, like this seat was his by right.

You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck.

“Is there… a menu?” you asked, voice soft, desperate to cut through the tension with something normal, something neutral. Your hands were folded neatly in your lap, even as your pulse drummed just under your skin.

Javi let out a low chuckle, head turning just enough for you to catch the flicker of mischief in his eyes. “No need, cariño, they know what to make.”

Murphy rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something snarky—but instead, he looked at you, softening instantly.

“They don’t really do menus here,” he explained, voice low and warm. “They just kind of… bring you what they’ve got going today. Usually a few different fillings, whatever’s fresh. You just tell ’em how many you want, and if you want them spicy.”

He paused, his smile gentle. “Trust me, it’s good.”

“Real good,” Javi added, low and smooth beside you. He didn’t look at you when he said it—he was watching Steve, his smirk now laced with something more subtle. Something sharp.

You nodded, trying to focus, trying to stop your eyes from flicking between them like you were watching some high-stakes poker game. The contrast between them was dizzying—Steve, all kind words and quiet steadiness, his hands folded on the table like a gentleman, his badge tucked neatly beneath his jacket… and Javi, sprawled out beside you like a slow-burning fire, gun heavy in the pocket of his slacks, cologne mingling with the faint scent of smoke clinging to his shirt.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The food arrived quickly—hot, golden, impossibly fragrant. The plate was set in front of you with a cheerful "¡Buen provecho!" and the smell alone had your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

You picked one up carefully, the crust still steaming, the edges crisp and flaking at your touch.

And then—without thinking, without meaning to—you bit into it.

The flavor hit you like a wave. Rich and warm, the filling tender and spicy and perfect, the dough crisp and buttery, everything so unexpectedly divine you couldn’t stop the quiet sound that left your lips.

A soft, involuntary moan.

Just a small one. But it hung there. Obvious. Intimate.

Across the table, Murphy’s brows lifted just slightly—barely a twitch of amusement—but it was enough to deepen the lines at the corners of his eyes, his lips tugging into a smile that was half playful, half tender as he leaned forward, resting his chin in the curve of his hand like he had all the time in the world just to watch you.

“That good, huh?” he asked, his voice a low hum of warmth, teasing without cruelty, kind in a way that made your pulse stutter, like he could make your fluster feel less like embarrassment and more like something sacred.

You blinked, cheeks burning hotter by the second, and reached for your napkin, fumbling to wipe at the corner of your mouth as you mumbled, “I didn’t mean to—sorry, it’s just… really good.”

Murphy chuckled, and it was soft and genuine and boyish in that way that made something bloom painfully warm in your chest. “Don’t apologize,” he said, voice dipped in affection. “You’ve got good taste.”

And then—without fanfare, without hesitation—he reached across the table.

Gently, with that easy, steady confidence that came so naturally to him, he took hold of your napkin and dabbed just beneath your lower lip, the soft cloth brushing your skin as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world and not the most intimate moment you’d had since arriving here. His fingers grazed your chin for the briefest second, and you held your breath like a startled deer, too dazed to move, too overwhelmed by the kindness of it to process the closeness.

Your breath caught in your throat.

And then—you felt it.

Javier’s body next to yours, no longer relaxed, no longer lounging—he was coiled now, the shift subtle but unmistakable. His cigarette was back between his fingers in a flash, but he didn’t lift it to his lips. He didn’t light it. He just rolled it, slow and deliberate, between his thumb and index finger, like it was standing in for the things he wanted to say but wouldn’t. His mouth curled into something that might’ve been a smirk or a grimace, sharp and tired and too knowing.

And then, under his breath, low and in perfect rhythm with the movement of his cigarette, he muttered in Spanish, “Claro, el caballero perfecto.”

Of course, the perfect gentleman.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t meant to be. But there was an edge to it—dry and rough and bitter at the core, like the taste of something he didn’t want to swallow. His gaze flicked to you just long enough to notice you hadn’t caught it, and he exhaled through his nose, the tension still rippling under his skin like a live wire waiting to spark.

But you—oblivious and bashful, cheeks still flushed from Murphy’s touch—just gave a soft, nervous laugh and took another bite of your empanada, your lashes fluttering, eyes cast downward like you could hide in the comfort of your food, unaware of the storm rolling in beside you.

And Javi?

He said nothing more.

But his eyes didn’t leave you.

Not once.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of quiet productivity, the kind that lulled you into a rhythm—sorting files, answering calls, typing up reports with the soft click-clack of your keyboard filling the room like a heartbeat. The office had slowly begun to empty as the sun dipped lower in the sky, its fading light turning everything gold through the hazy window panes, dust floating in the air like little flecks of glitter suspended in time. You were tired, but not unpleasantly so—there was still a pleasant warmth curled low in your belly, the echo of the empanadas lingering like a hug from the inside out, reminding you of laughter and heat and Javi’s thigh pressed ever-so-casually against yours in that booth.

By the time six o’clock crept up, the office was mostly silent. Phones had stopped ringing. The fan hummed gently overhead. You glanced at the clock, blinking slowly, your limbs heavy with exhaustion as you yawned behind your hand and leaned back in your chair, spine arching slightly in a stretch that made your blouse pull taut across your chest.

And then you felt it—that shift in the air.

The kind that always seemed to come with him.

“Hola, muñeca.”

Your breath hitched.

He was standing just a few feet away now, half-shadowed in the doorway, and somehow—even after hours of work and heat and sweat—he looked untouched by the day. Javier Peña, tall and devastating as ever, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie long forgotten somewhere, sunglasses now tucked lazily into the collar of his shirt.

“Hi,” you breathed, your voice smaller than you intended it to be.

He stepped closer, his boots slow and heavy against the tile, and leaned a hand on the edge of your desk, his body folding toward you in a way that made you instinctively shrink back—not out of fear, but anticipation. Like the space between you was an invisible thread, and any closer would snap it.

“Still here?” he asked, voice soft, the corner of his mouth curling up just a little. “Office all emptied out, and look at you—la buena niña, working late.”

You smiled shyly, fingers twitching near your notepad, though you couldn’t remember what you were even writing. “I just… wanted to finish up a few things.”

He hummed low in his chest, his eyes scanning your face. “Dedicada,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I like that.”

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken beneath your skin.

And then—almost like he’d read your thoughts, like he’d felt the quiet wanting gathering between you—he reached into his back pocket with a slow, easy motion and pulled out a sticky note, the edges a little worn and curling at the corners, the paper crinkled as if it had been sitting there for hours, waiting to be offered. He laid it down gently on your desk, the soft pap of it landing against the wood far louder in your ears than it had any right to be.

Your eyes dropped instinctively, your breath catching when you saw the scrawl—his handwriting rough and slanted, the letters uneven and fast, like he wrote the way he lived: unbothered, unrushed, with just enough edge to keep you guessing. A phone number, half-smudged at the corner, and beneath it, just two words.

Spanish Lessons.

“I was serious about those lessons,” Javi said, voice low, that familiar smirk ghosting over his lips as he looked down at you—like he wasn’t just giving you a number, but pulling a thread you didn’t even realize had been wrapped around your heart all day.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then tried again. “I—I mean, you’re already so busy,” you stammered, your voice quiet, almost too soft, already half-apologizing for even existing in the orbit of a man like him.

He shook his head, just once, the motion slow, deliberate.

“Not for you, preciosa,” he said, the pet name curling off his tongue like honey warmed over low flame.

Your breath faltered again.

“I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper, cheeks flushing so hot you were certain he could feel the heat rising off your skin.

And that’s when he leaned in just slightly, his voice dipping even lower, gaze flicking between your eyes and your mouth like he wasn’t sure where to land. “I know,” he murmured, the words sliding over you like silk, “I’ll teach you at our first lesson.”

And then—of course—he winked.

Slow. Sure. A little devastating.

And just like that, he turned and walked away, his back straight, his gait unhurried, as if he hadn’t just left your entire nervous system in shambles and a sticky note burning like a secret in the middle of your desk.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You slung your bag over your shoulder with one hand, the other reaching back to sweep your hair into a quick, messy twist, your fingers working automatically despite the fatigue weighing down your limbs. Your heels pinched with every step, the ache radiating from the balls of your feet with that familiar, dull throb that came after a long day of being polite, poised, and perfectly put-together. You gathered the last of your things—the folder you’d meant to leave on someone’s desk, your notepad, your pen that always leaked a little ink—and stepped out into the quiet corridor, the office behind you hushed and emptied, bathed in the soft gold light of early evening.

You’d only just started walking, your mind already drifting to the quiet comfort of your apartment, when you heard them—voices. Low, hushed, male. Serious. The kind of tone that slowed your steps instinctively.

You paused, half-hidden by the corner, your body tensing before your mind could catch up.

You didn’t mean to stop. You didn’t mean to linger. But something in their voices—muted, clipped, almost like they didn’t want to be heard—made your skin prickle. You hesitated, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag, and you knew it was wrong, that you should’ve turned around, kept walking, left them to their conversation.

You were just about to do exactly that—your foot already shifting to step back—when you heard it.

Your name.

Spoken clearly. Firmly. And not in passing.

You froze.

Your brows drew together before you could stop them, a quiet frown pulling at the corners of your mouth as confusion began to twist, low and slow, through your chest. Your heart, which had only just begun to settle from the rush of the day, now beat with sudden urgency, and your breath turned shallow, catching at the top of your lungs. You stood frozen in place, body pressed lightly against the cool wall as if it could ground you, protect you, hide you from the fact that you were—very much—eavesdropping.

“She's not just another girl for you to flirt with, Javier,” Murphy said, his voice low but firm, words sharpened just enough to carry even though they weren’t meant to.

There was a pause. A beat of silence so thick it made your stomach clench.

And then, Javi’s voice—smooth and dry like aged whiskey poured over ice.

“¿Perdón?”

The word was soft, but laced with warning.

“Oh, come on,” Murphy scoffed, not backing down, the tired edge in his voice laced with frustration. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No,” Javi said, his tone cooling all at once, the shift so subtle you could almost miss it—almost. His voice came steady now, sharper at the edges, like a man squaring his shoulders before a fight he didn’t ask for but wasn’t about to walk away from. “Go ahead. Spell it out for me.”

There was a pause.

You could imagine Murphy standing there with his arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed—not angry, not exactly, but tired in that bone-deep way that came from watching someone make the same mistake over and over. You pictured him dragging a hand down his face, his voice dropping into something quieter—not softer, but more weighted.

“Everyone knows what you’re like, Peña,” he said at last, the words careful, deliberate. “You flirt. You lean in. You get close. You—”

He faltered, and for a moment it sounded like maybe he wouldn’t finish. Like maybe part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Javi didn’t give him that luxury.

“Vamos, gringo,” he said under his breath, a mocking lilt curling around the words. “Dilo completo.” Go on, big boy—say the whole thing.

The silence that followed felt like a held breath.

Then Murphy did.

“You fuck them,” he said, flatly. “And then you leave.”

The words were blunt. Brutal. They landed like a weight in your chest, heavy and cold and unforgiving.

Javier didn’t speak.

But you didn’t need him to.

Even from around the corner, you felt it—the shift in him. The tension coiling tighter. The sharp inhale through his nose. The silence that wasn't surprise, but insult. His jaw must’ve clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides, fighting the instinct to lash back.

And you—frozen behind the wall—felt your stomach drop as your name echoed silently in the air again, because you weren’t just hearing a story about Javier Peña anymore. You were part of it.

Tangled in it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

eeeekkk this was my first narcos fic, im happy to write part 2 if anyone requests it ૮꒰>⩊< ྀི꒱ა

[mdawgswizzleinthehizzle]

bella in the background 🥺😭

[murphysteve]

Well, the next time your wife decides to bring home a human hand grenade, how about she hands it to you?

Boyd Holbrook as Steve Murphy & Pedro Pascal as Javier Peña Narcos S1E5 "There Will Be a Future" (2015-2017)

[perotovar]

Pedro Pascal as Javier Peña Narcos (2015-2017) | insp

[leopar6eyes]

if you’re freaky, you’re hot!

credit: madfilmss_

[theorganasolo]

OMG LOVE THIS

This fic had me like

I really do like how they work out problems together and they definitely needed that sex for themselves! While this was bittersweet it's nice to know they end up with a lot of kiddos hehe

thank you for writing and sharing with us!

Hello, i hope this isn’t too much but i really admire your courage to write the hard stuff that goes on between javi and his wife. would you ever write something about the struggles they had about conceiving lucas?

Crazy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya, anon! This was such a rollercoaster to write but thanks so much for giving me the needed push. Also tysm for the compliment 🥺

Summary: Thoughts of infertility take a toll on you and Javier's marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Infertility, arguments, apologies, hurt/comfort, angst, emotional sex, lots of kissing, pussy eating, piv sex, mating press, creampie, pillowtalk, aftercare

Word count: 6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64569853

Crazy

You can’t help but count the months. Seven long ones with still no baby growing in your belly. Seven and counting since you went off your birth control, a ridiculous thought that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth since it turned out that you hadn’t needed it anyway in the first place. Okay, maybe you had but it is your exhaustion talking, whispering it in your ear.

You remember the conversation that Javier and you had in the kitchen that one time a while back, where he promised you that if everything else failed, you would let Steve and Connie set an example and find your own Olivia. Yet neither of you has dared go into the discussion of exactly when it’s time to stop trying, or if you’d truly be ready to adopt. 

However, now as you anxiously pace around the kitchen, waiting for Javier to come home and cleaning off stains that aren’t actually there from yesterday’s dishes, you wonder if you should call Connie to hear her opinion. 

You stop halfway to the landline to stare at the calendar on the door to the refrigerator. The red circle around today’s date mocks you and you lift your hand up to flip it off, giving it a roll of your eyes now that you’re at it. Seven fucking months of anxiously charting your cycles, tracking ovulation windows, and feeling hope slip away with each negative test. 

What if it never happens at all? Connie hadn’t seemed to entertain your worry the last time you brought it up, had shaken her head with a smile you wanted to wipe off her face, and pulled out her authority as a nurse to reassure you. There’s still plenty of time before you need to start worrying, she keeps saying, and it feels like it is the only reason you are still taking vitamins, avoiding caffeine, and doing your exercises. 

You’ve reached the phone now, your hand hovering over it in midair. It would be so easy to ring Connie right now and tell her every worry that is constantly going around in your head, every frustration of being in a battle with forcibly loving your body when it isn’t working the way it should. But then you think of Javier and decide against it, convinced by the guilt that nags at you. It feels like a betrayal to begin that particular and very tough conversation with anyone else but him. 

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the phone, silently hoping it will ring and Connie will be on the other end of the line. It would make it easier to justify running your mouth to her. 

“Don’t look at me, it just happened,” you would say and still know it wasn’t okay.

Keys being inserted into the front door and the handle rattling makes you tense up in nervous anticipation. Javier is home from work. This is the day you’ve been waiting for a whole month, the one you’ve rearranged your entire schedule around and taken off work because if there’s any chance of being a mom, it has to be now.

“Baby?” He calls when he’s inside the house. You can hear the thud of his bag hitting the floor and the sound of his footsteps going towards the living room. 

“I’m here,” you answer through the house. You peek into the living room and see him shrug out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the couch and letting himself fall into the cushions with a contented sigh. You know you’re supposed to go in there and spoil his relief. 

“Come in here,” he says and taps his fingers on his knees, eyes soft from hoping to see you materialize in the doorway. He always tells you he misses you at his job.

Carefully, you enter the room and approach him with urgency in your body. You have a single mission today and it is a delicate matter. 

Get pregnant. 

Getpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnant. 

Get fucking pregnant.

“Hey,” he says with a tired smile when you stand right in front of him, glad to see you. He holds out his hand for you to take. You don’t reach for it and his smile fades.

“We should have sex,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, staring down at him as he reaches for his tie instead. 

“Baby, I just walked in. I just sat down,” he says softly and tugs at the knot on his tie, pulling it loose with a small noise. There’s an underlying emotion to his voice, a hint of frustration to his tone even if he doesn’t want to upset you. 

Your focus, your tunnel vision, makes you ignore his complaint as if it isn’t a ticking bomb right between your hands, “If I’ve calculated right, it’s been twelve hours since we last had sex, Javi. I’ve read that it’s a good idea to—“

“We have sex all the time, baby. Three times yesterday. Once at night. We fuck a lot,” he reaches up to run both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands afterward. He does a quick inhale and then sighs.

“Yes, but we have to do it today too to be sure. Connie said that—“ you quickly argue but his jaw muscles flex as you talk. Javier pushes himself to stand with exasperation in his next breath.

He pushes past you as if he cannot take being in your presence for a second longer despite just having arrived home, doesn’t even look at you as he throws back a sarcastic comment, “Oh, Connie said? Really? Wow, you really know how to turn me on.”

“That’s not funny. Hey, come back here,” you say as he starts walking towards the kitchen instead, leaving you with your mouth a thin line. You follow him but don’t go any further than standing in the door, “I’m the only one who initiates sex lately. What if my ovulation is peaking right now? The day is over soon.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, reaching back to grip the edge of the table, “The day isn’t over yet. It’s five in the afternoon. I just got home. We can have sex tonight.” 

You finally step fully into the kitchen now and it feels almost like you have crossed enemy lines. You can feel your tears build inside of your chest, crawling steadily up into your throat till they burn but you don’t allow yourself to cry. Why doesn’t he understand the pain of losing another month to grief? Why is it not as important to him? You look desperate, “Connie said it’s best during the day.”

“Stop,” he suddenly commands, causing you to flinch. He looks angry at you, unable to register the impact of the tone of his voice because of his own state of mind but it makes you tremble. He is never this way, “I can’t fucking take another fucking word about eggs and sperm and fertile windows. It’s too much now. You’re being crazy.”

Something breaks inside of you at those words, a beast that’s been hidden inside a cage in your chest threatening to escape and go for the kill. You watch him carelessly turn away to open the fridge, detachment on his face as if he has just argued with you about what you’re having for dinner. He leaves you feeling in complete disbelief and disarray, your heart ticking like a bomb. You need out right now or you might suffocate in the large, childless space that you moved into with the idea that you would be a family of three soon. 

You leave the room with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The walls feel like they are closing in on you, close to trapping you here in this feeling forever if you don’t hurry up and reach the front door quickly. 

You slam the door behind you, no shoes on your feet, and then suddenly you are close to running down the street, breathing harder and harder while your arms swing along your sides in your haste. 

He has never called you crazy before. The word feels like he has just spat in your face, wrapped you in barbed wire, as if he sees you as just one more woman suffering from hysteria. Dismissible and unserious. Crazy. You swear you can feel all of the women before you right behind you, giving you the wind in your back to run faster than ever even with no destination. You don’t even feel your feet hurt from being bare against the harsh ground. 

However, you are barely a few blocks away from your home when you hear Javier’s voice calling out your name with the same desperation that you have felt since the first negative pregnancy test. 

The second you hear him, you automatically start running faster, determined to escape something you can’t quite pinpoint what is, but it only lasts a few seconds. Eventually, you finally slow down. Not because you want him to catch you but because your chest is heaving and your eyes are burning with tears, blurring your vision and disorienting you. 

He grabs your arm firmly when he reaches you and tries to pull you into an embrace. You resist at first, stiffening against him as he wraps you in his arms. 

“Stop!” You sob violently but he doesn’t let go even when you start crying loud enough to attract attention. Instead, he tightens his grip around you to calm your nervous system. How odd it is to want comfort from the man who also made you cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he says repeatedly, his cheek against yours while you try to hit his chest. You can hear the regret in his voice but your pride makes you unwilling to soften. 

You struggle further, almost like a panicked animal, wanting to kick and scream to escape a trap, but the fight is going out of your body quickly, gripped by exhaustion and making you sag. Another sob rips itself from your throat, “If I’m so crazy then there’s no reason we should be together let alone have a baby.”

When you’re less resistant, he cradles your head in his hand to make you look at him, “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not crazy. Dios, soy un pendejo (God, I’m an idiot). I’m so sorry, mi amor (my love).”

You sink to your knees but he catches you before they hit the sidewalk.

“I’m not crazy,” you insist weakly as you slump into his embrace.

“You’re not crazy,” he confirms quietly, “I’d take that back if I could.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too… You were frustrated and tired,” you sniffle and your bottom lip trembles, “I shouldn’t have pushed you the second you walked through the door. I’m just worried that we have to wait a whole month before we can try again because we’re too lazy to have sex. And I hate that it is ruining our sex life because I love having sex with you.”

Javier says your name but it’s clear that it has caught him off guard.

You pull back to look up at his face. His brown eyes are soft and full of apologies, like the impact of his words only hits him now, “Now I’m scared that this is all responsible for you not finding me sexy anymore. I know it’s stupid but what if I’m the reason why we never get there? What if all this pressure makes you stop wanting me? What if I–”

“Now that’s crazy,” he says in an attempt to smooth things over with a joke but that one crease in his forehead, the one that he gets when frustration hits, is back because it doesn’t work.

You compose yourself enough to step back and give him a warning look, a look that says don’t you dare say that word again. He holds his hands up in surrender and then just reaches for your wrist, tugs it until he can entwine your fingers.

“What?” You’re the one to bite now, "I'm serious. I don’t want to lose you in this."

"You're not going to lose me,” he groans in exasperation. A few heads have popped up in the windows of the houses surrounding you. 

“Then why aren’t you upset like I am?” You ask harshly and pull your hand away to hug yourself. You avoid his gaze. 

Javier looks at you as if you’ve cracked him wide open right there on the sidewalk. He furrows his brows, opening his mouth without any words coming out. He turns away then, needs to gather himself without staring at your face. 

You know immediately that you have crossed a line, that you have hit a nerve that wasn’t supposed to be as exposed as it suddenly is. 

“Javi,” you murmur shamefully. 

“Is that what you think?” He turns back to you, the look in his eyes frantic and desperate. He also looks furious but for some reason, you can tell it isn’t directed at you, “That— That I’m not scared or upset enough? I’m terrified all the fucking time but if I let myself be as scared as you are, I’d be fucking useless to you.”

The realization hits you like an oncoming train, making tears start falling from your eyes again. You don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you. Javier feels the exact same way as you but he simply hides it better.

You want to say something but he beats you to it, pointing at you to stress his point, his chest heaving, “And for the record. There’s no fucking universe where I stop wanting you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you do the next best thing and show him. You reach to cup his face, your thumbs stroking along his cheekbones, and then you kiss his lips. 

He sighs against your mouth, his broad palms finding your waist and tugging you as close as possible until he can wrap you in the harbor of his arms. Then he kisses you deeper, several times too, each brush of his lips releasing more of the tension between you. 

You’re here. In the same boat. And you love each other so much. That should be enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it is.

When the kiss is over, you don’t draw away from each other. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you protectively close to his chest and stroking the back of your head. You link your arms around him, clinging tightly to him with a few tears staining his shirt because you have hurt each other so much. 

“I want to go home,” you murmur softly into his shoulder while he strokes your hair, “Por favor (please).”

“Okay,” he answers just as gently, placing a kiss on your forehead before drawing back, “We’ll go home.”

You walk home side by side, no words spoken between you. The tension is still there, sizzling in the air but it is charged with something else too. You almost feel like a teenager again, back when you were too scared to speak to the person you’ve decided late at night that you’d go through fire for. 

The first block is spent with your hands brushing as they hang by your sides and the both of you holding your breath when it happens but then Javier laces your fingers together and a quiet understanding settles over you. 

When you enter the front door together, none of you even glance in the direction of the kitchen or the living room. There's no hurry to move on from the storm of intense emotions that you have just been through, no hurry to busy yourself with anything that’ll simply push it down or bottle it up. 

The only urgency now is that storm, your hearts tense but only with the need to reassure each other. His mouth finds yours again, his body pushes you against the wall and the intensity behind his kiss grows from how he had kissed you in the street. Your lips meet in a kiss so deep that Javier coaxes a moan from your mouth. 

For once in all of this, you’re not scared of the outcome of being together, entwined. The need to conceive a child with your husband is still very much there but right now, it is overshadowed by a need to connect fully, to lick each other’s wounds even if you caused them. 

You reach to untie the knot on his tie completely. He hesitates for just a breath, a hand on your wrist to gain your attention. 

“Are you sure?” He asks despite how you still pull the tie out from underneath his collar. 

“Yes,” you don’t hesitate a second and drop the tie on the floor, desire ignited in your belly, “I’m so sure. I want you.”

He lets out a shaky breath with a smile, nodding his head while you move in to kiss his throat where his pulse thrums. His eyes close at the contact, his head tilting back just a little until a soft moan escapes his mouth. Your body grows warm from hearing it and you take it as a cue to move in silence, sharing searing kisses all the way to the bedroom. 

When you get there, Javier closes the door behind you and turns the lock, not because there’s any chance that you will be disturbed but just to keep the outside world at bay for a little while. It feels more intimate like that, like you are the only two people in the world.

You stand by the end of the bed, watching him do it and feeling your heart pounding in your chest from anticipation. You smile softly when he approaches you, too afraid that words might mess up the way that air crackles with intimacy and tenderness. 

He reaches out first as if promising to take the lead of you, curling his fingers around the edge of your top to lift it up. You raise your arms in the air to let him peel it over your head, goosebumps erupting on your skin where his knuckles brush you. He drops your top on the floor. 

You finally reciprocate by moving to undo the buttons of his white shirt. Your hands tremble slightly as you do it but Javier is patient, just reaches to gently steady your wrist by holding it. 

When you have reached the last one, he takes over and shrugs the fabric off his shoulders to reveal his warm and safe chest. You step closer, hands finding his shoulders as you lean in to kiss along his collarbone. He takes the opportunity to unclasp your bra while you’re at it, a palm skimming up your back while the other rests at your waist. 

When your breasts are bare, your nipples have hardened at the sudden exposure to the colder temperature. He undoes his belt and jeans, and when he bends slightly to take them off along with his boxers, he presses a tender kiss right over a nipple and skims his nose and lips across your chest to do the same thing with the other. 

You moan softly. He grabs around your waist and helps lowering you down onto the bed. You sit on the edge but not for long, moving back until you can lay down spread out. He follows you like a magnet, ends up kneeling between your legs so he can undo and yank down your pants. 

You help kick them off and then bend your knees briefly to let him drag your underwear down too. His mouth is everywhere he can reach; your ankles, your calves, knees, and thighs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly on his way down your inner thigh, breaking the silence, and while he says those words a lot, there’s something different behind them today. It is almost like he is telling you something else; you’re not broken, not defined in your femininity by your body’s ability to carry his child.

You hold tears at bay and run your hand over his hair, looking down at the top of his head as his face disappears down between your thighs. Your mouth falls open in a soft gasp when he first mouths along your cunt. 

“Javi,” you sigh a moment later, your head knocking back into the bed so you can look up at the ceiling while focusing on the velvety feeling of his mouth. 

He eats you slowly, the flat of his tongue gently moving over your clit until you can’t help each sigh and moan that falls from your lips. His fingers spread your cunt open, his other hand squeezing your thigh as he pulls your legs further apart to dive in. 

“Please,” you hear yourself say. It’s the moment you realize how long it has been since you last were together like this; he hasn’t gone down on you for months because it doesn’t make a baby. The room is quiet except for your labored breaths and the filthy wet sounds of his mouth teasing you towards the edge. It feels so good to be wanted like this, reassured of how sexy you are without all the pressure to procreate. 

Hearing that soft plea makes Javier wrap his lips around your clit to kiss it repeatedly. He moans into you when your legs start to tremble in his peripheral vision. He switches it up and sucks. It makes you whimper, your back arching off the bed as he worships you between your thighs.

You are sure that he’ll pull away when you lift your pelvis up to meet his mouth further, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he just slides the hand on your thigh down under the small of your back to hold you there, then breathes heavily through his nose and hungrily continues to make you inch closer to the edge. 

Like always, he can hear your orgasm knocking by the way you begin to hold your breath between small gasps of pleasure. He intensifies the pressure and the precision just so, and you slide both hands through his hair - something he has clearly been waiting for with the way he groans - while your toes start to curl. 

When you actually come, it drags a sinful groan out of the both of you. Your thighs lock around his head and you pull at his hair. It’s not pretty and polite. It’s pure release, and it is ripped out of you like it has been buried under your prickly skin, underneath heartbreak, forever. 

You say his name until it makes no sense anymore, swallowing down desperate gulps of air. He lets you ride it out on his tongue, making sure to tease out every little aftershock before releasing you from his grasp. Yes, you needed this but it is almost like he needed it more. 

“You don’t know what it does to me,” he breathes heavily while you come down. He trails off and rests his forehead against your thigh, “You don’t fucking know what it does to me… when you look at me like you did earlier… Like you’re done.”

“I’m not,” you whisper in reply, voice shaky with tears that have finally found release. You cry softly, “I’m not done. Never done.”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he looks up at you with those brown eyes that are so hard to resist because of the silent plead within them. It hurts your chest to watch him so full of remorse, hurts to be loved this much. 

“Come here,” you whisper softly and hold your arms open for him but he wants to take it slow. 

He kisses his way up your body instead - a kiss to your hip, your belly, one right beneath your ribs - and you use the opportunity to slide your fingers through his hair. His mustache is slick with you, scratching just slightly as he treats you like you might not be in his bed tomorrow. 

But while he wants to savor you, you feel the growing impatience within your chest. You need him closer, your hands going repeatedly from his hair to his shoulders and then to his back because you are unsure of where to touch him when you want all of him. 

When he has his knees between your thighs again, he doesn’t crush you with his weight. Instead, he hovers above, eyes roaming over your face to check if you’re still letting him have you. In response, you settle on cupping his face. He automatically turns his face to press a longing kiss into the palm of your hand. 

You pull him to your mouth in a kiss that steals his breath away, his hand cupping the side of your neck. You kiss him like you should have done the moment he came in through the door and he meets your mouth like he needs to feel forgiveness in his very bones. Maybe a kiss like this would have avoided the pain that you inflicted upon each other. You cry in his arms. He wipes tears away with his thumbs and doesn’t rush you. 

Eventually, you are panting from the intensity of what feels like one of the deepest kisses of your life. Your lips are swollen and sensitive, and his cock is hard against your thigh to the point where you think he must be aching. The occasional kiss to your throat makes your whole body tingle with want, your cunt fluttering in interest. The pressing issue, however, is that you need to put all of these feelings somewhere. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper with your fingers in his hair, breathing hard against his mouth, “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

Javier swears quietly under his breath as if he has been waiting for those words, nodding repeatedly with his stare fixed on your lips before giving you another desperate kiss. 

He reluctantly pulls away, your hands slipping out of his dark locks, to sit back on his knees. You let your palms lay flat on the sheets and stare up at him, his face full of determination while he slides his hands around the back of your knees. 

At first, you think he wants to drag you down on the bed and closer to himself but then he lifts your legs and you gasp because you immediately know what he is doing with you. He pushes until your thighs are pressed against your chest, your cunt on full display and at his mercy. 

He doesn’t speak as he moves over you again, not stopping until his chest brushes the back of your thighs and your ankles are resting on his broad shoulders. He folds you even further in when he leans down to kiss your throat, the soft sound that escapes you vibrating underneath his lips.

You grip the sheets and hold on for dear life as he enters you slowly, giving you the full length of his cock inch by inch. He holds your gaze as he bottoms out and it makes you so aware of everything he does to you. There's no space between you now. Not physically. Not emotionally. He looks at you as if telling you that you and he belong together, like he is ready to rewrite the last seven months of your sex life. 

You can’t speak, can’t even think because you’re still trembling and sensitive. The stretch of his cock is almost too much inside of you but he is gentle with you, letting you adjust while kissing his way to your mouth again. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. 

You nod as if to reciprocate and then whimper as another tear escapes, “I love you. I missed you.”

“I know, I missed you too,” he whispers and gently kisses away the salty tear. 

The ache of need catches up to you as you get used to feeling him inside of your cunt so fully, the thick head of his cock resting against the spot where you need him the most. An impatient flutter of your walls makes him give in and move inside of you. 

You moan feebly while he takes you slowly and full of precision. The angle of this position has you breathless in seconds, your back arching with each stroke against your g-spot. Your moans mix together with the sound of skin slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet room. You hold onto his biceps, feeling the muscles of his arms flex beneath your touch as he strains his body to give you everything he has. 

“I’ve got it now, mi amor (my love)” he lets you know through ragged breaths, resting his forehead against yours, “You don’t have to start it anymore. No need to ask.” 

“Don’t stop. Javi— oh, don’t stop,” you plead him with a steady stream of teardrops falling from your eyes. They roll down into your hair faster than he can kiss them away but it doesn’t matter, you think to yourself, because you want him to see what he does to you; that his words move you, that you needed to hear them because you’re exhausted and fuck, he loves you so much. 

“Shh, don’t cry, baby, you’re okay,” he coos with another soft kiss to follow. You turn your head afterward to press your face into the side of his head, brows furrowing as the first hints of your climax being within reach show. 

He barely pulls out anymore, just grinds down into your cunt and hits the right spot repeatedly. There’s no talking either. Instead, just the sound of your sweat-slicked bodies moving together, your breath hitching in your throat as your belly tightens even more, and his growls every time your cunt squeezes around him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re making me come,” he grits out, sweat gathering on his brow and concentration all over his face. 

“I’m close,” you gasp with your thighs starting to tremble from how intense it is going to be. You let your head bump into the mattress, your spine arching in a bow as it creeps up on you and your breathing begins to stutter. 

You come with a silent cry towards the ceiling because all air is knocked out of you. It takes a few moments before noise catches up to you but when it does, you absolutely sob underneath the weight of his body. The intensity makes you clamp down on his cock, your walls going into rhythmic squeezes that make Javier hiss and his pace falter from how you milk him. 

“I’m coming,” he near-whimpers before going off into a satisfied groan while his hips stutter, “Fuck, baby. You’re— I’m coming.”

He buries himself to the hilt before spilling inside of your wet, oversensitive heat. You gasp at the feeling of it, the weight of it settling inside of you. He trembles above you, enough for you to slide your hands up to his shoulders and cup his face. 

He holds himself up with one hand and holds one of yours with the other, breathing rapidly. His chest is broad and glistening with sweat, warm and nearly suffocating but he is yours. You want it like that, want to drown in the intimacy that you feel. 

Without a word, he straightens and pulls out his softening cock. It makes you tense up, looking down where you have been connected with worry on your face. You don’t want it to slip, to not work this time either, but he guides your legs together and then shifts slightly on the mattress. He lays them gently on one shoulder, making sure that no drop spills from you. 

“I’ve got you,” he coos, almost shushing you like a child. His arms cradle your legs, “Don’t worry.”

You can do nothing but whimper. He rubs your belly with his free hand and you place your palm on top of it, an unconscious gesture of hope between you. 

“This is the most important thing,” he says after weighing his words for a moment, “You and I.”

“Javi,” you protest but there’s no exasperation building up beneath the surface this time. He shakes his head to stop any words at the tip of your tongue. 

“I will give you anything you want. A house, a baby, anything you want,” he tells you, whispering it as if there are other people in the room besides the two of you and he wants privacy. It feels safer to hear him lower his voice, “But not if it costs me you. We are not meant to fight like that.”

Your bottom lip trembles because he is right. You’re not meant to fight like that at all, chests heaving with adrenaline and bloodlust from grief over the fact that something is getting the better of you. It feels as unnatural as snow in August and rivers running dry. 

“I want to give you a baby,” you say quietly and feel a tear slide down your cheek. Javier reaches to brush it away with his index finger, shushing you once more with the gentleness in him only reserved for you. 

“And you will,” he promises and cups your cheek afterward, his thumb stroking your face where another tear has fallen, “It’ll happen. This way or another.”

Your eyes flutter closed. You nod. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks and lets his mouth graze the side of your ankle. 

“I love you too,” you say back without much thought that he is actually asking a question. 

“Yes, but do you know how much? Look at me,” he waits for a moment.

Your gaze locks onto him, your eyes big and teary.

“I don’t think you know how lucky I am to have you in my life after all the stupid shit I’ve done back in Colombia. I hurt people. I watched people die. No wonder I wasn’t all here when I came back. I thought I was just gonna float through the rest of my life being angry or drifting in some bar like a ghost. You were the first thing that felt like… like the world could be soft again. And now you think I could ever stop wanting you?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re the only place I’ve ever felt like I could put my feet down and not run. When everything starts to weigh down on me, you breathe life back into me. Whatever happens next, I want it with you, okay?”

You cry with your heart feeling too big for your chest, words lost on you because how can he still love you when this takes such a toll on you that it brings out the worst in you? Probably just how you can love him just the same too.

You sniffle, “Yes, me too.”

He looks serious and soft, “Even if it’s not how we imagined. Even if we gotta go knock on Connie’s door and ask for the number of that adoption agency… or do IVF… or whatever the hell else it takes.”

You nod. When you speak, it is nothing but a squeak, “Yes.”

“But right now,” he caresses the skin of your calf and murmurs into another kiss to your ankle, “I just wanna stay here. In this bed. With my wife… and let the world wait a little while longer. Can we do that?”

“Can I get my legs down, so we can cuddle?” You shift a little, still slick between your thighs and sore in the best way, but there’s no rush to clean up or face anything other than the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

He smiles, “Of course. Lift your legs, I’ve got you.”

He does. He always does.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[joelsknees]

[mdawgswizzleinthehizzle]

I LOVE THEM. i need more pedro and kieran.

[theorganasolo]

Omg I missed these two!

ALSO YAY PREGNANY TIME!! Dad-to-be Javi has me like

He is so so so so sweet I love it!

thank you for writing and sharing with us!

Chapter 22 pt.1- Plus One

Summary: One weekday in September, you and Javi learn that your family is getting a very welcomed addition to your family

Word Count: 15.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, praise kink, breeding kink (listen... she's already pregnant, but Javi's an optimist LOL), general talk of pregnancy, doctor's appointment, nausea/morning sickness, Dad to be!Javi makes me weak in the mf'in knees (I'm being so fr, the man is built to be a dad), The Murphy's/Chucho/Your family may have a gambling problem

A/N: This is me bracing myself for y'all to throw rotten fruit at me in the public square while you boo and his because this literally took 6 months AND I AM SO DEEPLY, TRULY SORRY ABOUT IT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Me and this chapter have been in a wrestling match since November, but she's finally here!!! I'm planning on splitting up Javi and Osita's pregnancy journey by trimester, so this chapter is months 1-3, next chapter will be months 4-6, etc... I know I sound like a broken record, but the love that you guys have shown this story and these characters legit makes me want to cry, I think part of the reason this took so long is bc after this, there's only two more chapters before NTL is a wrap, and that's a very weird thing to say. So regardless, I just wanna say I love y'all and love getting to share this story with you and I'm just feeling really sappy about it 🥹💛 OKAY ANYWAYS, YOU CAN CONTINUE WITH THE BOOING AND TOMATO PELTING, I'M SORRY AGAIN!!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

Month 1 

“I swear to God, if I’m already getting sick two weeks into the school year, I’m gonna cry.” 

Finding yourself hunched over your toilet bowl at 6:30 A.M. was not the way you were planning to start your Wednesday morning, but after tossing and turning for the past hour in bed with a terrible pit in your stomach, you didn’t feel like you had much of a choice. 

Being the light sleeper and worry wart he was, Javi was up with you, despite your best attempts to tell him to go back to bed, considering there was nothing he could do for your upset stomach besides watch you vomit repeatedly into your toilet. Trying his best to stay awake without his mandatory dose of morning coffee, Javi sat on the bathroom floor next to you, still in nothing but his boxers as he simultaneously rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and your back with another. 

“I think I’m just gonna start wearing a hazmat suit to school.” You sighed, sitting up a little straighter, starting to feel at least a little bit of relief after feeling like you had finally emptied the last of anything left in your stomach. “I think that’s the last of it for now. Fuck, I gotta take a shower before I do anything else to get ready.” 

“Get ready? Osita, you just spent an hour throwing up. You should be taking the day off.” Javi shot up, your proposition now making him fully awake, shocked that you would even consider going into work after the events of this morning. 

With a remorseful grunt, you pushed yourself off the bathroom floor, trying to stretch and shake out any remainder of your sickness  as you stepped over Javi to turn on the shower. 

“Jav, it’s more work for me to call in sick and make sub plans than it will be for me to just go into school. I don’t even have my normal plans ready since it’s the beginning of the school year. Worst case, Maria can watch my class if I need to throw up again, or very worst case, I bring in the rolling TV cart and put on Bill Nye the Science Guy for them.” You sighed, stripping yourself of your pajamas and tossing them on the floor before pushing open the shower curtain and slipping under the steaming flow of hot water. 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration at your stubbornness. “Honey, I’m just worried that-” 

“Javi, I’ll be fine. You gonna write my sub plans and teach for me today? If that’s the case, go right ahead and I’ll stay home. Seriously?” You snapped, a little more sass in your tone than you had intended, your frustrations more at the circumstances of your job and less at Javi’s suggestion. You stood in silence for a moment, the rhythmic splash of the water from the showerhead hitting the floor of the tub as your stomach began to fill with guilt in the way you had responded to Javi after he had spent his whole morning sitting beside you in the bathroom while you threw up. 

“I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” You muttered, pushing back the shower curtain to look at Javi, jaw shifting back and forth as he grinded on his teeth, trying his best to make sure his lack of sleep and coffee didn’t turn the rest of the morning into a war zone because of your comment. 

“It’s okay, Osita. What can I do to help?” 

“Can you make me breakfast?” You asked sheepishly, tears starting to well in your eyes that you had taken your anger out on Javi, and despite that, he was still offering to help. 

“Of course, baby. What do you want?” 

“Just eggs and toast.” 

“Okay. Just worry about getting ready and I’ll take care of everything else. I love you.” Javi smiled, giving your arm a little squeeze. 

Suddenly, a wave of emotion seemed to crash through your body, your wet, teary eyes now transforming to full on sobs, feeling such an intense combination of guilt and appreciation for how wonderful your husband was, and how terrible you felt that you had reacted to him the way that you did.

Just as soon as Javi was about to get up and make you breakfast while you fought to get yourself ready for work, he was back, crouched down next to you as he heard the sound of your soft sniffles and tears. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Javi asked, concern flooding his face, reaching up to wipe your wet cheek with his thumb as he cradled your jaw. 

“I’m so sorry I was so mean about that, I- I- I know you’re just trying to help. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You sighed, shaking your head and trying to laugh off your teary state. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to get so mad at you, I don’t know why I’m so all over the place right now.” 

“Hermosa, it’s okay. I promise. Why don’t you get in the shower, I’ll make you breakfast, and pack up all your stuff for this morning.” Javi smiled softly, pressing a soft kiss into your messy, morning bed head before exiting the bathroom, leaving you to finally start getting ready for the day. 

After a pain-stakingly nauseous shower, followed by eating approximately two bites of toast and no eggs, you somehow managed to make it to school on time, but spent the entirety of the day fighting for your life as waves of stomach pain and exhaustion crashed through you. As if teaching wasn’t tiring enough in itself, trying to wrangle 26 3rd graders while holding back the little you ate of your breakfast was enough to completely knock you on your ass by lunch time, leaving you to lock yourself in your room after dropping your students off at the cafeteria, praying that the hour of peace and quiet would help you make it through the rest of the day. 

Unfortunately, even with your door locked, your nosy co-workers needed to investigate why you hadn’t shown up to the staff lounge to eat, and were soon knocking on your window to demand answers for your absence. 

“Mija, what’s going on? Why aren’t you at lunch?” Maria demanded as she barged through your door, quickly followed by Estelle and Linda. “I’ve been dying to tell you about what Carlos’s younger brother did today during math and- Oh, cariño, you look terrible.” Maria’s train of thought seemed to come to a complete halt as soon as she locked eyes with you, hunched over your desk with heavy eyes and grimaced face. 

“Rude, Maria, dios mío.” Linda groaned, giving Maria a sharp jab to her ribs at her friend’s bluntness before looking over at you, trying her best not to comment as directly at your disheveled appearance. “No offense, honey, but you look like you do not feel well at all. Are you okay?” 

“It’s fine, I feel terrible so I’m sure I don’t look any better.” You huffed, scrunching your face as you stood up, trying to fight your nausea as you came to your feet. “I’ve been throwing up all morning, and when I’m not throwing up, I feel so nauseous that I want to throw up.” 

“Mija, why are you not at home?! I need to come over and smack some sense into that husband of yours for letting you go to work today.” Maria scolded, glaring at you with disapproval, arms crossed against her chest. 

“It’s not Javi’s fault, he tried to get me to stay home today too, but you guys know what a pain it is to make sub plans. It was just easier to come in today.” You sighed, your eyes traveling back and forth between your co-workers in front of you and the trash can beside your desk, feeling an uncomfortable lump creeping up from your stomach and into your throat. 

“So Javi’s not sick?” Estelle asked, shaking your head no silently in response. 

“Well it’s probably not food poisoning then…” Linda pondered, trying to diagnose your ailments, “unless you ate the grilled cheese they were serving in the cafeteria yesterday, because that definitely looked questionable. No kids in your class with the stomach bug? Chucho’s not sick?” 

You shook your head no again, this time, your eyes solely locked on the trash can, trying with everything in you to keep down whatever was bubbling up. 

The women stood quietly, thinking to themselves to try and come up with a solution for your sickness, seemingly stumped, until an ear to ear grin began to creep across Maria’s face. 

“Maybe it is Javi’s fault.” 

“Aye, aye, aye, Maria, what do you think the man did, try to poison her?” Estelle asked, the rest of you staring at Maria in complete confusion as to how Javi had anything to do with your current state. 

It was then that Linda suddenly seemed to catch on to Maria’s subtle suggestion, her smile lighting up just as bright as her co-workers while you stood there in an ever nauseous confusion. 

“What am I missing?” Estelle  asked, looking back and forth between Linda and Maria, the two ladies both standing with arms crossed and brows raised, smirking and nodding at their friend. 

“Mija, any chance that you don’t just feel nauseous, hmmm? Perhaps, emotional, tired, achy?” 

“I- I mean, yeah, but it’s the second week of school, Maria, I think everyone is tired and emotional and probably achy, too.” You groaned, scrunching your face and swallowing hard to keep the unpleasant feeling creeping up your throat at bay. 

“Oooooooooohhhhhh.” Estelle cooed, connecting the dots of Maria’s cryptic symptom description, the 3 ladies standing in a giddy mutual suspicion for your current state. 

You stood there, in a silent stare down of confusion, eyes darting back and forth between your giggling co-workers, waiting in an anxious anticipation for you to read their minds and understand why they were suddenly filled with so much glee watching you practically keel over at your desk. 

Suddenly, it hit you. 

A final, violent wave of nausea crashed through you, frantically reaching for your trashcan to bury your face in as you threw up what little you had managed to eat today, your newly emptied stomach making way for a new, very different type of wave than the one you had just experienced. 

An inevitable wave of clarity. A surmounting wave of realization. A wave of piecing together all of the little clues your body had been leaving you. 

Nauseous. 

Tired. 

Emotional. 

Sore. 

And now that you were thinking about it, your period was supposed to have started 3 days ago. 

“Oh my god…” You whispered into your trash can, hands shaking and heart racing out of your chest. “Do you think- Do you think that I’m-” 

“Mija, all I will say, is that when I found out I was pregnant with all three of my boys, I didn’t feel much different from how you are now.” Maria smirked, cutting off the rest of your drawn out thought.

Trying to find any words in your haze of disbelief, the shrill ringing of the lunch bell flooded your classroom, the 4 of you realizing that despite your new revelation, you had classrooms full of children you needed to go retrieve and teach for the rest of the day. 

“Oh, of course this is when the lunch bell decides to ring…” Linda huffed, rolling her eyes as the dinging continued, the ladies now quickly scampering towards the door to avoid getting a scolding from the cafeteria workers about being late to pick up their class because they were chatting. 

“W-wait-” You stammered, slowly trailing behind them, trying to catch their attention before they were too far gone, “Please don’t tell anyone about this. If Chucho or Javi find out before I can tell them, I-” 

“Oh honey, I know we gossip and gab like it’s no one’s business, but all of us have been in your same shoes before and wouldn’t dare ruin your special moment for you, if that’s what it turns out to be.” Estelle smiled, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance, her eyes glistening with a genuine confirmation that your secret was safe with them. 

“Besides,” Maria laughed, subtly lifting her gaze towards the sky, “If we ruined this moment for you and Javi, I think Lucia would find a way to come back from the dead, strike us all down where we stand, then drag us all back with her.” 

“Thank you.” You sighed, softly smiling at your co-workers, grateful for their understanding, a small twinge of sadness behind all of your laughter, knowing how excited Javi’s mom would have been to find out there was a chance she was finally getting the grandchild she had always longed for. 

“Now go, get out whatever is left of your lunch before the kids come back. We’ll get them from the lunchroom. Lord knows that you could be crawling towards your death bead and those little monsturos (monsters) wouldn’t show you any mercy.” 

As if perfectly on cue, another unpleasant grumble began to growl in your stomach, hunching back over your poor trash can as your co-workers scurried away, leaving you to ponder how in the world you were going to make it through this afternoon if the nerve wracking suspense, or more likely, knee-buckling nausea, didn’t kill you first. 

Some way or another, you managed to make it to the last bell, locking up your classroom and sprinting out to your car before the last busses had even left, driving like a NASCAR racer to the nearest drugstore. You left CVS with no less than 3 different types of pregnancy tests, not wanting to take any chances that something strange or faulty was going to stop you from getting the answers you had been dying to know since lunch. 

The rest of your ride home was a terribly unsettling mixture of nerves and anticipation, wondering if the pounding feeling in your gut was because you actually needed to vomit, or you were just so anxious that you felt like you could at any second regardless. 

As you pulled into your driveway, you were thankful to find that there wasn’t some strange reason that Javi had beaten you home today, grabbing your shopping bag of pregnancy tests from the front seat, and foregoing anything else you had to bring in from your car as you bolted to the front door. 

Your dog, Bear, was ecstatic to greet you upon your return home, his tail wildly wagging and thumping as you walked through your entryway, feeling guilty for not giving him the same amount of prolonged love and attention you normally would when you returned home, rushing him to the backyard to go to the bathroom after being inside all day so you could do the same. 

While Bear trotted around in your backyard, finding a good place to do his business, you were rushing over to your kitchen, rustling through your cupboards to find a cup you wouldn’t be mad had to go to waste because it had been filled with your pee. Eventually, you were able to find an old, chipped “Everything is Bigger in Texas” mug, with letters so faded that you honestly were even unaware of its existence until this point. Worst case, if it was a special mug that Javi secretly loved, you were sure a positive pregnancy test would warrant its use to be filled with your urine. 

Bear let out a happy bark at the backdoor, stumbling his way into the house and immediately gluing himself to your side, practically in lock step with you as you grabbed your mug and CVS bag before making your way up the stairs to your bedroom, plowing open the attached bathroom door to spread your contents all over the countertop. 

Normally, you would have been a little annoyed that Bear had followed you into the bathroom and plopped himself down right next to your feet as you sat on the toilet, awkwardly shifting the mug between your legs, focusing as hard as you could to pee, but there was something calming about your big, goofy, golden retriever settling right beside you, keeping you company. 

After you had finished peeing way more than probably needed into the cup, you carefully set it next to you on the counter, grabbing each box of pregnancy tests and opening them to read the instruction manual inside before plucking a wrapped test out of each. 

Your hands were shaking so badly at this point, you were shocked you hadn’t dropped anything yet, because knowing your luck, it would have been the cup of pee all over your bathroom floor. Carefully, you unwrapped each of your 3 tests with trembling hands, uncapping each before dipping them into the yellow liquid, ready to embark on the longest 5 minutes and 15 seconds of your life. 

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” 

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” 

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” 

With all of your tests dipped, you flipped them face down, looking over at the digital clock by your toothbrushes to see its bright red numbers read “4:52”, readying yourself to count down the seconds until it reached “4:57”. 

Years may have well been passing with each minute that went by, anxiously pacing back and forth across the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, every single emotion you had ever felt in your entire life now festering at the forefront of your mind, feeling like your life was flashing before your eyes, time ticking down before 3 little plastic sticks determined if the course of your life was about to be forever changed. 

The excitement of picturing your belly grow, carrying life that you and Javi had made, knowing what a good father Javi would be, and what an amazing family the two of you, maybe soon to be three of you would have together. 

The anxiety of wondering if you were fit to be a mom, all the mistakes you could make in raising a tiny little human and bringing them into a world you wouldn’t always be able to protect them from. 

The bittersweet melancholy of watching your friends and family embrace your child into their lives, showering it with love and joy, when some of the people that you and Javi had cared about most wouldn’t be there to partake. 

The indescribable feeling of knowing that your life would never be the same- for better, for worse, through the highest highs and lowest lows, your journey would no longer be just about you or Javi, it would be for your own little family. 

You could feel your heart practically beating out of your chest as you paced up and down the length of your bathroom, Bear trailing behind you in lock step as you took your final lap, watching the clock finally hit 4:57. 

For as badly as you wanted to look, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the first test you grabbed still flipped over in your hands, test results facing the bathroom counter. 

You took three deep breaths, each one longer and slower than the last, holding the test in your trembling hands before opening your eyes to see the fate of yours and Javi’s future laying in your palms. Because there in your hands, was the start to the rest of your lives. 

Two pink lines. 

You almost couldn’t believe it, frantically scrambling for the other two tests, flipping them over much more haphazardly than you had the first, praying with everything in you that the first test wasn’t just a fluke. 

Two more sets of two pink lines. 

“Oh my god…. Oh my god?!” You whispered to yourself, tears beginning to well in your eyes in blissful disbelief, mouth shooting over your hand to cover the audible gasp that escaped your lips, now stretched in the widest smile to have ever graced your face. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Oh my god?!” You couldn’t stop chanting it, the phrase spilling out of your mouth as the only sentence your brain could manage to comprehend. 

Holding each test up one at a time, over and over, you kept inspecting them, making sure your eyes weren’t playing some sort of dirty trick on you, that you were imagining the extra line you had wanted so desperately to be there. After holding up each test in every corner of your bathroom, triple checking under any different lighting you could find, there was absolutely no denying that you weren’t crazy or imagining things in the slightest. 

You were pregnant. 

You stared at your tests for what felt like hours, so overwhelmed with joy and emotion by those two pink lines, that there was nothing else in the world that existed in that moment besides you and the new life you had beginning to grow inside you.  Tears welled in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you tried to process everything you were feeling, body trembling with astonishment and shock. 

You were going to be a mom. Javi was going to be a dad.  

Javi was going to be a dad. 

Javi. 

Oh my god, you needed to tell Javi. 

The realization struck you enough to rattle you out of your staggered state, heart racing even faster as you came to the realization that you needed to let your husband in on the happiest news of your life. 

So lost in your own world upstairs, you had been paying no attention to the time- For all you knew, past 4:57, time simply didn’t exist anymore. But for everyone else that wasn’t living in your blissfully unaware bubble, including Javi, time existed just as it did on any other day, and the all too familiar of his truck pulling into the garage as the door rumbled open meant that the time of day he made his arrival at home had come. 

When you thought about telling Javi about your pregnancy, you had imagined some sort of cute surprise for him- Balloons, a cute baby onesie, a pregnancy test wrapped up in a box, maybe even a mug with #1 dad on the side. But as Javi’s key turned in the door, his footsteps trailing downstairs, you knew there was no way you could keep your news a secret long enough to even make it out of the bathroom without telling him, and in all actuality, your body was still in such a state of shock that you don’t think it would have let you move, even if you tried. 

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Javi shouted, tossing his keys and work bag on the kitchen counter, pausing for a moment as he waited for your response. Hearing Javi’s voice, Bear barreled through the bathroom door, sprinting downstairs to greet him, leaving you alone, still frozen in place, pregnancy test in hand. 

“Hey, buddy!” You heard Javi greet your dog from your statue-esq position from the bathroom, “How’s my good boy, huh? Where’s your mom? Osita? Where are you, baby?” With a few happy barks, Bear was scrambling across the hardwood of the kitchen floor, bolting his way back up the stairs, paws thumping with every step. You could hear Javi beginning to follow behind, pace quickening as he followed the path of your dog. 

“Hermosa? You upstairs?” You could sense the concern growing in Javi’s voice at your lack of response, making his way to the top of the stairs. 

It was like the pathway from your brain to your mouth had completely shut down, trying to speak, to say anything to let Javi know where you were, but the sudden wave of nerves that had overtaken your body had only left you more stuck, praying that where you were was the first place he’d come to look. 

“Baby, are you up here? Are you okay?” Javi asked, hearing his voice travel closer to you as he nearly sprinted down the hallway, finding his way to your shared bedroom. Seeing the light beaming out of your bathroom gave him some sense of relief that he may find you there, trying to steady his nervous breathing as he peeked through the doorway. 

“J-Javi-” You sobbed, your tears immediately making Javi wrap his arms around you, embracing you in the tightest hug he could, cradling the back of your head as he held you pressed against his chest. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhhhhh, baby, it’s okay. I’m here.” Javi cooed, gently swaying you back and forth in his grasp, giving you a moment to collect yourself as he felt your tears begin to subside. “What’s wrong, Osita? Got me worried sick when I couldn’t find you.” 

His hand shifted to cup your cheek, forcing your gaze up at him, carefully wiping the tears streaming down your cheeks with his thumb, the concern pooling in his big brown eyes only overwhelming you with more emotion. 

You were honestly shocked that Javi hadn’t noticed the test still in your hand or the other two on the bathroom counter, quietly laughing through your happy tears, making Javi cock his head in utter confusion. 

“Osita, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Javi asked, completely puzzled by your response. 

You gently tilted your head towards the bathroom counter where your pregnancy tests lay scattered across its surface. At first, you were convinced that Javi was so concerned about you, he didn’t notice anything suspicious, his eyes quickly darting over to the counter before shifting back to you, his face even more confused than before. 

You nodded back to the counter again, this time making the motion a little more obvious, staring at the tests until Javi’s gaze wandered in the same direction as yours, heart pounding in your chest as you watched his expression shift from complete and utter confusion to absolute disbelief. 

Javi’s hand was trembling as he reached down towards the counter, carefully picking up one of the tests. With two glaringly obvious pink lines staring back at him, Javi’s jaw all but hit the floor while you watched in real time as he put together the pieces of your puzzle. 

“Oh my- Holy Fuck. Holy Fuck. Osita, baby, oh my god. You’re- Oh my god. Baby, are- are you serious?” Javi whispered, his voice trembling in disbelief, convinced that what he was seeing was too good to be true. 

“I took 3 different tests. They’re all positive. Javi… We’re gonna have a baby.” You smiled, wetness streaming down your cheeks as you beamed at your husband, watching the gears in his mind turn as he processed that what he had heard was real. 

“We’re gonna have a baby?” He repeated, whispering it like the world’s most precious secret, the look on his face shifting from disbelief to pure and utter joy with each word. 

“You’re gonna be a dad, Javi.” 

“I’m- I’m gonna be a dad? I’m gonna be a dad. We’re really gonna have a baby?” He choked out, his smile so wide you were convinced his face had to hurt with how hard it was scrunched. 

“We’re really gonna have a baby.” You confirmed, just as much as yourself as for him, reaching up to grab his face, making sure he watched your head nod in the happiest agreement you’d ever made to anyone. 

Scooping his arms under your thighs, he hoisted you up to let your legs lock around the small of his back, spinning you around the bathroom, the two of you exploding his blissful laughter, giggles and tears while he peppered kisses all over your face. 

“Oh, I love you so fucking much, Osita. I love both of you so fucking much. You're gonna be such a good mom.” Javi beamed, carefully setting you back down as he dropped to his knees in front of you, both hands splayed across your stomach while his peppering of kisses moved to your belly. “Oh my god. Holy fuck. You swear you’re being serious? You’re really pregnant?” 

“Yes, I’m being serious, Jav! That’s why I bought 3 different tests. I wouldn’t have believed it either.” You giggled, cheeks sore from your smile. 

“When did you- When did you find out?” Javi questioned, expression still plastered with the best bewildered astonishment you could imagine, hand still resting on your stomach as he stood up. 

“Literally, like, 10 minutes before you got home. Sorry, I didn’t have a better way to surprise you, I picked up the tests on the way home and I-” 

“Baby, why are you apologizing? You literally just gave me the best surprise I could have ever asked for. I’m so fucking happy. So, so, SO fucking happy.” Javi grinned, unable to keep from kissing you, barely letting you breathe with the way he was smothering you with excited pecks of his lips. “Holy shit. I can’t fucking believe it. We’re gonna have a baby.” 

You could feel your heart swell at the way Javi’s hand had become instantly glued to your stomach, thumb rubbing across the cotton of your shirt, over and over, already filled with so much love and adoration for the soon to be new addition to your family. 

“Makes a little more sense why I was such a jerk to you this morning when I was getting ready to leave.” You sighed, apologetically rolling your eyes at Javi for your snappy behavior before leaving for work. 

“Honey, first of all, you were not a jerk, second of all, you’re pregnant, and even if you weren’t, I felt bad and just wanted to help you feel better.” Javi smiled, boyish grin still stretching ear to ear as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Is that what made you take a pregnancy test when you got home?” 

“Oh you’ll get a kick outta this one.” You laughed, playfully raising an eyebrow at Javi, “Obviously I felt like shit at work today, which makes sense now, but the rest of my team came in during lunch time and were asking me how I could have gotten the stomach bug if no one else I knew had it, and you weren’t sick either, so it couldn’t have been food poisoning, either. Then of course, someone-” 

“Maria?” Javi scoffed, knowing exactly where your story was heading

“Are we shocked? Yes, of course it was Maria.” You shook your head, the both of you laughing, “Anyways, she asked if I felt anything other than just nauseous, and after thinking about it, I realized that I’ve been crying at everything, my boobs hurt like a bitch, and I was supposed to get my period 3 days ago. She may be crazy, but sometimes, she knows what she’s talking about.” 

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she insisted that regardless of being a boy or girl, this baby needs to be named Maria.” The two of you chuckled, Javi’s hand never leaving your stomach, thumb gently stroking over your t-shirt, his goofy grin subtly shifting to a more serious scrunch. 

“You okay, Jav?” You asked, tilting your head at Javi’s new look. 

“We should call the doctor’s office, right? Do you think they’re still open? Do we have to schedule an ultrasound or do they do that? Do you want me to go get you vitamins or did you already start taking those? Should I-” 

“Easy, Papa Bear.” You snickered, somehow not surprised in the slightest that Javi had shifted into “Dad Mode” immediately, his mind automatically shifting to what would become the never ending worry of making sure that you and your baby got everything you’d ever need. “We can call tomorrow. We won’t even have an appointment for the next few weeks so it’ll be okay.” 

“Few weeks? What do you mean?” Javi replied, looking even more distressed. 

“Normally you don’t have an ultrasound done until like, 8 weeks along.” 

“That’s way too long. 8 weeks?! How are we supposed to know everything’s okay?!” 

You knew Javi’s panic was genuine, but you couldn’t help but giggle. You were well aware that Javi would make a great dad, but you had no idea that his protective dad instincts would set in only minutes after finding out the news that you were pregnant. 

Your laughter only lasted so long until the same, uncomfortable feeling began to build in your throat, reaching down for the trash can next to the sink, wrenching up the nibbles of your lunch you thought you’d managed to keep down. 

“Oh honey, shit- it’s okay, Osita.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing your back with your face still buried in the trash can.

“This is really adding to the magic of the moment, isn’t it? Oof, this baby is gonna give me a run for my money, huh?” You grimaced, pulling your head out of the waste basket, one of Javi’s hands on the small of your back, the other over your stomach. 

“Nah. I do think she’s gonna end up being strong willed like her mom, though.” Javi smirked, gently kissing your forehead. 

“Javi, I’ve been pregnant for all of 30 minutes, there’s no way you know if it’s a girl or not.” 

“She’s a girl. I have a feeling.” 

Month 2  

“Javi, baby, I love you, but if you keep holding my hand this tight, I think you’re gonna break it.” 

You were almost positive that Javi had been keeping a better track of the days counting down to your first ultrasound appointment than you had. He had even insisted on taking the entire day off work even though you weren’t leaving school until 12:00, and your appointment wasn’t until 2:00. Now that it was 2:15, sitting in your OBGYN’s office, waiting for your name to be called to see your doctor, it was clear that your husband was much more of a nervous wreck than you figured you needed to account for. 

“S-sorry. Sorry. I just really wanna see ‘em, ya know? Make sure everything’s okay.” Javi sighed, knowing he most definitely was more anxious than he needed to be, the hand not easing its grip on yours, gently rubbing your nearly invisible bump. 

“I know, me too.” You smiled, rubbing your thumb back and forth across his palm for a few moments before lifting it up to your mouth to kiss it. 

“Peña?” a voice called from the front of the waiting room, you and Javi perking up instantly at your last name. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the fact you knew it was taking everything in Javi not to sprint to the door the nurse was holding open for you, so excited to see your baby for the first time, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have jumped up on the exam table himself once you got to your room. 

“How’s it going, Mom and Dad?” The nurse asked, smiling at you as you followed behind her down the hallway leading towards the exam rooms before stopping at a small cove at the front of the path. “We’re just gonna take some quick vitals and then we’ll get you all set up in the room okay?” 

“It’s been good! Well besides feeling super nauseous and exhausted all the time, but ya know.” You laughed, giving the nurse a little shrug as you sat down in the chair next to the blood pressure machine as she began to take your vitals. 

“But that’s normal though, right? Like, we shouldn’t be worried about that?” Javi asked, leg bouncing as he stood next to you, propped up against the wall. 

“Yes, it’s all perfectly normal. Unfortunately, growing a baby isn’t always the most pleasant experience, so it’s very common, especially in the first trimester, for Mom to feel pretty worn out.” The nurse nodded, writing down some information before gesturing for you to step on the scale, taking a few more notes. 

“Told you I’m okay.” You snickered, giving Javi a little nudge. 

“I know, I just feel awful that you feel so miserable, ya know?” Javi sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling that this would be the first of many worried I told you so’s during this appointment. 

“Alright, well we’re just gonna draw some blood and take a urine sample, and then we will have you all ready to meet with Dr. Davis, okay?” The nurse grinned, helping you back over to the chair to have your blood drawn, cocking her head at the pained look on your face. 

“Is it um- can I do the urine test first? I need to pee so bad.” You grimaced, not wanting to throw off your nurse’s pattern of practice, but also worrying you were going to pee your pants if you didn’t go to the bathroom in the next thirty seconds. 

“Oh, of course, my bad, go right ahead. Down the hall and to the left.” She smiled, handing off the collection cup as you practically sprinted down the hallway, your nurse and Javi laughing at your need for speed. 

“First baby?” Your nurse asked, smirking at Javi, nervously gnawing on the inside of his cheeks. 

“Y-yeah. How’d you know?” He asked. 

“I’ve been doing this job for a long time, honey. Nine times out of ten, the dads are way more nervous than the moms are.” She grinned, tilting her head with a little shrug. 

“Yeah, I’d uh- I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind, but I- um, God, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to be a dad.” It’s a good thing you were still in the bathroom, because seeing the way Javi was beaming from ear to ear at finally becoming a father probably would have sent you into a spell of hormonal sobs. In the past few weeks, his adamant enthusiasm about his journey into fatherhood had you on the brink of tears nearly every day from how thankful you were for your amazing husband. 

After your return with your very full cup of pee, and squeezing Javi’s hand extra tight through your blood draw, you were escorted down to your exam room, leaving you and Javi to patiently wait for your OBGYN’s arrival to let you get a first glimpse at your baby. 

“You look really hot in that paper skirt.” Javi teased, raising his eyebrows at you, gently tugging at the thin covering you’d been offered for your bottom half to give your doctor easy access for your exam. 

“You just like it because you can keep peeking underneath it and I don’t have anything on.” You sighed, playfully rolling your eyes back at him. You paused for a moment, taking a quiet deep breath as you stared down at your feet, Javi immediately picking up on your silent shift in tone. 

“You okay, Osita?” He asked, gently grabbing your hand and interlocking it with his while his free hand splayed across your stomach. 

“Yeah. I think all the nerves are actually starting to really kick in now, ya know? Like, we’re about to see our baby today for the first time.” 

It would have been easy to blame your pregnancy hormones for the emotional rollercoaster you were experiencing in the OB’s office, but with the way Javi’s eyes were welling with tears too, you felt a little less crazy for being so overwhelmed by the thought of getting to see the tiny human you were growing inside you. 

A quiet knock on the other side of the door was enough to startle you and Javi, turning your attention as a figure peeked through the small gap with a soft, and sweet voice.  

“Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” 

“H-hi, yeah, come in.” Javi stammered, eagerly inviting in your doctor, Dr. Davis. 

“Hello, it’s so nice to see you two! How exciting that we’re here for our first visit!” Dr. Davis grinned, giving you and Javi each a friendly nod before settling into her rolling chair next to her desk, “How’s everything been going so far?” 

The way Javi had begun to squeeze even tighter on your hand was making it nearly impossible not to giggle, giving him a little pinch of reassurance back before answering. 

“Good so far. I mean, tired and nauseous, but other than that, can’t complain. I mean, obviously nervous, but also just really excited too.” You beamed, Dr. Davis smiling at your response before looking over at Javi, anxiously drumming the fingers of his free hand against his leg. 

Well that’s good to hear. It most certainly is a very exciting and nervous time, especially with your first. How about you, Dad? How have you been doing?” 

“Oh- m-me?” Javi asked, pointing to himself, shocked that Dr. Davis would have any interest in asking how he’d been, “Oh good, yeah, I mean, nervous as hell, but like, the good kind of nervous. Just wanna make sure I’m doing whatever I can to help.” 

“Well Mr. Peña, it seems like you very clearly care about your wife and your baby, and if you keep that up, you’re doing everything you can.” Dr. Davis grinned, shooting you a little wink at the providing the reassurance your husband very clearly needed. “Alright, well I know one of our nurses already took some blood and urine samples, but we’re just gonna check a few things out and ask some questions, but after we finish with that, we’ll do our first ultrasound and get a chance to look at Baby, okay?” 

“Okay.” You and Javi answered in sync, smiling at each other from your timely response. 

It seemed that Javi’s nerves had at least eased a little bit, until you watched him fumble around in the back pocket of his jeans, face growing panicked at the lack of whatever he seemed to be looking for. 

“You okay, Jav?” 

“Yeah, I just, shit-” He paused, grimacing at his empty pocket, “I thought I bought a notepad and pen to write stuff down on, but I must have left it in the car…” 

Quietly chuckling to herself, Dr. Davis reached into a drawer in her desk, pulling out a sheet of blank paper, along with one of the pens from her coat pocket to pass over to Javi.

“T-thanks.” Javi sighed sheepishly, trying to hide his embarrassment as he took the pen and paper. 

“Mr. Peña, if there is one thing you most certainly do not need to worry about, it’s how loved this baby of yours is going to be.” 

While you had truly considered giving Javi shit about how hell bent he was on documenting every single word that came out of Dr. Davis’s mouth, 45 minutes into your appointment, you couldn’t have been more thankful you had someone there taking notes for you, all of the information, questions, and hypotheticals of bringing a new baby into the world making your head spin. 

All of the questions you had planned had seemed to have magically disappeared from your brain, overwhelming anxiety about trying to plan for the health and safety of your future child throwing everything else in your mind out the window. 

While it had taken a moment for you to even realize how stressed you were, Javi had picked up on it immediately, suddenly shifting to become the anchor in your storm that you had been for him. With one hand on your stomach, and the other furiously scratching down notes, Javi had managed to remember every question the two of you had talked about, making sure to have Dr. Davis elaborate on anything you even seemed slightly concerned about. 

Even though you had felt like a terrible mother for already being too overwhelmed to remember a few simple questions, the way Javi had switched into Dad Mode without a single thought or ask had filled you with such calm and relief, falling even more in love with him at how immediately protective he became without so much as a second thought. 

After an hour and two full pages, front and back, filled with Javi’s chicken scratch, Dr. Davis had finished with her part of the exam, and Javi had asked enough questions to fill a small book. You weren’t sure it was because you physically couldn’t fathom coming up with another question to ask, or if both of your brains were just too overwhelmed with information to come up with anything else, but after a confirmation you and Javi had nothing else to ask as of right now, she lit up as she asked the question the two of you had been dying to hear since you booked your appointment. 

“Would you like to see Baby Peña for the first time?” 

Despite how badly your hands were shaking, as Javi intertwined his fingers with yours, you were convinced his were trembling even worse, his eyes locked on on every move Dr. Davis had to make as she set up for your ultrasound. 

“Alright, this is going to be a little bit cold here, sorry.” Dr. Davis apologized, squirting a small glob of gel onto your lower stomach, trying your best not to squirm and giggle at the ticklish sensation. 

After a few more clicks on her keyboard, Dr. Davis had grabbed the ultrasound transducer, gently beginning to rub the tool back and forth across your belly as fuzzy, black and white images began to appear on her screen. 

“Now, with you almost being nine weeks, we’re most likely only going to see a blob of a head and a body, but I’m hoping that we may also get to hear Baby’s heartbeat for the first time as well.” Dr. Davis smiled, watching yours and Javi’s faces light up. 

“I’m sure whatever they look like, they’ll be the most perfect little blob I’ve ever seen.” Javi grinned, squeezing your hand even tighter, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“I’ve never been more excited to see a black and white blob in my entire life.” You giggled softly, Javi and Dr. Davis snickering right along with you. 

“Oh, give me one second, I think we found ‘em.” Dr. Davis muttered to herself, clicking on a few more buttons on her keyboard and turning the screen back towards her to get a better view. 

In the few moments of silence, you looked up at Javi, trying your best to fight the tears you had welling in the corners of your eyes at the thought of finally being able to see your baby for the first time. As Javi looked back down at you, you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at the way his eyes were already welling too, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from bursting into full blown tears. 

Although you had never known Javi before his newly settled life in Laredo, it was moments like these where you couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that a man who had once chased down the most hardened Cartel criminals in the entire world, who had written off any chance at a ‘normal’ life for himself, had turned out to be the biggest softie in the entire world, head over heels in love with you, trying to keep from sobbing as he prepared himself for seeing his baby for the first time. 

Watching you snicker to yourself, Javi rolled his eyes, shaking his head as you teased him, quietly mouthing a playful “Shut up”  to you, knowing damn well he was already a mess without even seeing your black and white blob for the first time. 

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Peña, are you ready to see your baby?” 

The two of you quietly nodded, each taking a long, shaky deep breath as Dr. Davis slowly turned her screen back towards you, finger pointed at a small shape in the middle of her display. 

“There’s Baby Peña.” She smiled softly, gently circling around where her finger had been  pointing. 

As yours and Javi shifted your gazes from each others’ to the small screen beside you, a tiny, bean shaped form appeared, gently shifting with the black and white static of the machine. 

There, in front of you, was your baby. 

“T-that’s- that’s really them?” Javi stuttered, eyes excitedly darting back and forth between you, the screen and Dr. Davis, smile beaming so wide, you wouldn’t be surprised if his cheeks hurt for weeks after. 

“That’s really them.” Dr. Davis answered, smiling at the pure bliss radiating off of you and Javi. 

“That’s our baby, Jav.” You whispered, disregarding any attempts to keep from crying, too overwhelmed with the joy and excitement of seeing your child for the first time, “That’s really them.” 

You and Javi could have stared at the screen for hours, taking in every single detail your minds could commit to memory, streams of happy tears continuously flowing from the both of you, completely overjoyed to finally get the first glimpse at the life you had created together. 

“Would you two like to hear the heartbeat? I think I’ll be able to pick it up!” Dr. Davis asked, clacking on a few more keys. 

“Only if you wanna make me cry more.” You sniffled, “God, sorry I’m such a mess.” 

“Honey, after 20 years at this practice, I’ve seen just about every reaction under the sun. Do not worry. I was the same way when I had my first, too.” She paused, typing on a few more buttons and focusing on her screen, giving Javi a few seconds to help console you with sweet kisses across your temple, “alrighty, baby seems to be cooperating, so here is the heartbeat!” 

You and Javi held your breath, time standing still, until a light, rhythmic thump began to echo throughout the room, eyes going wide hearing your baby’s heartbeat. 

“Holy shit…” Javi whispered in disbelief, looking down at you with an ear to ear grin and watering eyes. “Baby, holy shit, that’s- that’s ours. That’s our baby.” 

You and Javi sat still, time seeming to freeze around you as the soft thump of your baby’s heartbeat flooding you with a wave of love and excitement you had never felt before, so overwhelmed with euphoria, you could have sat and listened to the sound for hours. 

“Everything about the baby looks absolutely great so far. Glad we were able to catch the heartbeat as well. I’m guessing you’d probably like some ultrasound pictures to take home with you?” Dr. Davis asked, smiling with a grin that very clearly told you she already knew the answer. 

“Yes.” You and Javi agreed in unison, barely letting Dr. Davis finish her sentence before you answered. 

“Alright. Let me capture a few images here,” Dr. Davis paused, focusing in on the screen while moving the ultrasound around on your lower stomach before saving the image displayed next to you, “and we should be good! We’ll have these ready for you when you go to check out. Any other questions before I send you two, or should I say, three, off today?” 

“N-no, I think I’m good. You have any other questions, honey?” Javi asked, interlacing his fingers with yours before gently kissing your forehead. 

“Well, um- actually- I uh, I guess I do have one more.” You stammered, quietly laughing to yourself, catching Javi’s attention, “Is it um- It’s okay for us to have sex still, right?” 

You looked over at Javi with a sheepish grin, snickering at the way his eyes had gone wide in pleasant surprise at your question. With how nauseous and tired you had been feeling, combined with Javi’s rampant nerves that even if you were up to it, he was going to hurt the baby, it had been over a month since the two of you had last gone at it. Sweet Javi had never brought it up once, so concerned with your well being that you knew he’d stick to taking care of himself by himself as long as he needed to- a small price to pay for  you literally growing his child inside you. But now that you were finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel for feeling like you had been hit by a bus every day, you knew it wouldn’t be much longer until you were going to need to break your self-induced run of pregnant celibacy. And when that time came, you knew even then, Javi wasn’t doing anything unless it had a doctor’s seal of approval. 

“Perfectly normal question. Yes, as long as you feel up to it, it’s absolutely safe. If you feel any discomfort or pain during intercourse, just give us a call and let us know and we can schedule an appointment, but other than that, yes, it’s perfectly okay.” Dr. Davis smiled, laughing at the way Javi was trying his best to keep from smirking. 

“Y-you’re sure it’s okay to-”

“Yes, I’m sure, Mr. Peña.” Dr. Davis chuckled, cutting off Javi’s sentence before he could finish asking his question. “Alright, why don’t we get you two checked out, and Laura at the front desk can get your next appointment scheduled for you. Have a wonderful rest of your day, and I’ll see you soon. Feel free to call if you have any questions.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, you and Javi both giving Dr. Davis a wave as she exited the room, letting the door quietly close behind her. 

“I hope you know I would fuck you right here, right now in this doctor’s office, paper skirt and all.” Javi smirked, eyeing you up and down as you slid off the edge of the table, bunching up your thin, crinkly covering to throw into the trash before reaching for your pants folded up on the chair next to you. 

“I knew the doctor’s office paper skirt would really do it for you.” You giggled, shimmying up your underwear and pants as you playfully rolled your eyes at Javi. 

“I hope you didn’t ask because of me. You know I’ll do whatever you need me to. If you don’t want me to touch you for the next 7 months, I truly am okay. I just want you to feel comfortable, baby.” Javi sighed, his tone shifting to genuine and sincere, hitting you with his big, brown puppy dog eyes as he wrapped his arm around your waist, thumb softly stroking your stomach. 

“I know, Jav. Now that I’ve actually been starting to not feel completely awful and can focus on something other than not needing to throw up every 5 minutes, I wanted to make sure that I had the okay, so, ya know.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows at Javi, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“Let’s go get this paperwork.” Javi smirked back, giving you a quick peck on your lips and a playful wink, collecting all of his notes as he opened the door for you, making it incredibly obvious that he was checking you out as you passed by him. 

“Horndog.” You giggled, pretending to scold him. 

“I’m not the one who asked, Osita.” 

You were positive that Javi’s hand hadn’t left your hip, hand, stomach or thigh from the moment you had left the doctor’s office, his thumb gently rubbing in soft circles against you, accompanied the dimple creasing in the corner of his cheek from the way his boyish smirk was plastered across his face the entire drive home. 

It was almost comical at the way Javi was so eager to help you out of the car and into the house, carefully helping you to put away everything from the appointment, asking you if there was anything that you needed, following you around the kitchen like a wide eyed puppy. 

You felt butterflies swirl in your stomach in a way that wasn’t about to make you vomit for the first time in weeks, heart swelling at the way you could tell Javi was patiently and nervously waiting for you to make a move before he dared to do anything, knowing he would keep good on his promise to let you take the lead.  

“Y-you sure you don’t need anything else? Lunch? More water? A nap?” Javi asked, resting his hip against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, trying his best to act nonchalant as you approached after noting down your next appointment date on your calendar. 

“Nope.” You grinned, popping the “P” at the end of the word, reaching out to grab at his waist, toying with the belt loops of his jeans, watching the denim of his pants begin to tent. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Just because the doctor gave you the okay, if you’re not comfortable, I-” 

Before he could finish, you cut him off with a kiss, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips lock with his, practically feeling him melt under your touch as his bulge poked at your thigh, continuing to grow as you rubbed against it. 

“Javier Peña, if you don’t take me upstairs and put your dick inside me right now, I swear.” You giggled in between kisses before you let out a gasp, Javi scooping his arms under your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist, frantically but carefully carrying you across the living room and up the stairs, letting his back push open the bedroom door. 

Carefully, he laid you down on the bed, caging his body over yours while he planted soft kisses down your neck and chest, feeling his lips smirk as they gently pressed against the barely there swell of your stomach. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” Javi murmured under his breath, fingers toying with your waistband to tug your pants and underwear down your legs, letting them fall into a crumpled pile on the floor below you. “So fucking beautiful growing our baby.” 

Javi settled himself between your thighs, gently parting them to reveal the mess of slick and arousal coating the inside of them. You propped yourself up on your elbows, breath already heavy as you watched Javi run his fingers through your soaked folds, throwing your head back in delight while he slowly began to rub at your throbbing clit. 

Because you had been so preoccupied with the constant nausea and fatigue from the first few weeks of creating another living human being inside of you, it wasn’t until now you were becoming blatantly aware of how much more sensitive you were down there, your stomach already swirling with heightened sensation after a few seconds of Javi touching you. 

“Holy fuck-” You stammered, jaw going slack in pleasure, immediately catching Javi’s attention. 

“Good holy fuck or bad holy fuck?” He asked, concern flooding the sweet chocolate brown of his eyes. 

“Good holy fuck, oh my god. I feel like I’m about to cum already.” You whimpered, the worry washing from Javi’s face at your response, his once furrowed brow quickly replaced with a delighted smirk you could practically feel as buried his head between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit. 

If his fingers weren’t enough to make you feel like you were already on the edge of collapse, the slow and calculated drags of his tongue up and down your cunt most definitely were. One of your hands was instantly shooting down to brace yourself in the thick curls of Javi’s hair while the other one fisted at your bedsheets for dear life, readying yourself to face the rapid tingle growing at the base of your spine. 

The response to warmth and wet of his tongue swirling against your sensitive bundle of nerves was enough to make you whimper like he had been fucking you with his mouth for hours, not mere minutes, coil tightening in your stomach with every lick. 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh fuck, baby.” You moaned, grip tightening around your bedsheets, soft fabric curling between your fingers. 

All it took was a little more pressure from the flat of his tongue before you could feel yourself on the brink of collapse, pleasure starting to creep up your legs and through your core. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck- fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-ahhhh!” You sobbed, throwing your head back in bliss as your orgasm crashed through you, every inch of your body lighting up as you came. You could have sworn you were seeing stars, cutting some slack to your pregnancy hormones after weeks of being keeled over in exchange for one of the most intense orgasms you’d had in a while. 

Javi pulled his head out from in between your legs, smirking in awe of the way your moans fell from your slack jaw as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, mustache soaked with your slick. 

“You okay, baby girl?” He asked, peppering soft kisses to the insides of your thighs as you came back too, emerging from your post orgasmic fog. 

“Javi, holy fuck.” You gasped, still panting, “Oh my god, that felt so good.” 

“Yeah? Came so well for me, Momma.” Javi cooed, letting his lips trail up your hips and stomach, taking extra time to let his lips linger on the barely there swell of your belly before shedding your top and bra, dropping them next to your crumpled up bottoms. 

“Fuck- Need you to fuck me, Javi. Please, baby.” You moaned, reaching out to unbutton Javi’s jeans, erection already straining at the denim and zipper of his pants. Javi grinned, happily helping you tug his pants and underwear from his hips, quickly followed by his shirt, giving you a chance to gawk at his handsome, naked figure. 

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his already hard length, pumping him a few times with your hand before gently guiding him towards your entrance while both your bodies fell towards the mattress, Javi hovering over you. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” Javi whispered against your skin between gentle presses of his lips against your neck, “If you’re uncomfortable or anything, just let me-” 

“Javier Peña, if you do not put your dick inside me right now, I might cry.” You giggled softly, giddy smiles growing across both your faces as Javi ran his tip between your folds, collecting the slick pooling between them. 

Gently, Javi pushed himself inside your heat, letting him slowly pump in and out of you a few times before you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with a confused stare, feeling that something was off.  

“You can put it all the way in Jav.” You laughed, realizing Javi was barely pushing himself inside of you with each movement of his hips. 

“I don’t- I don’t wanna hurt the baby.” Javi grimaced sheepishly. 

“Javi…” You giggled, titling your head at him, “Baby, you’re big, but you’re not that big.” 

Javi sighed, quietly laughing to himself at your playful scolding before leaning down to softly press his lips to yours. 

“Just trying to be gentle, Osita.” 

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” You teased, biting down on your lip as you laughed, only for your jaw to drop as Javi slid deeper into your cunt, pressing his entire length in you. 

“Fuck, Javi…” You whimpered, head hitting the back of the mattress, trying to compose yourself from falling apart right then and there.

“Fuck, I missed this.” Javi whispered, nibbling at your ear as he slowly began to thrust his hips, taking his time with each stroke. “Driving me crazy every fuckin’ day with how beautiful you look carrying our baby.” 

Javi’s hand trailed down your front, softly splaying across your stomach while his thumb circled your skin, the familiar movement catching your attention enough to peak your head up at your husband, looking almost as disheveled as you in terms of self-preservation.

Javi took a long, deep breath, furrowing his brows in concentration as he stared at the ceiling, the rhythm of his hips coming to a standstill. 

“You alright there, big guy?” You giggled, knowing damn well the cause for the holdup. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I feel like a fucking teenager. First time we’ve fucked since we found out you were pregnant and I’m about to show up like some sort of fucking two pump chump ‘cause I can’t keep it together.” Javi groaned, eyes still glued to the drywall above him in embarrassment. 

 “Javi, baby, look at me.” You smiled, smirking at him. 

“I can’t, unless you want this to be over right now.” 

“While that’s very flattering, I find that very hard to believe, considering I threw up twice before we left for this doctor’s appointment and ate half a jar of pickles on the drive home and smell like I’ve been living inside a pickle factory for the better part of the past year.” 

“Jesus Christ.” He laughed, your joke enough to make him break, shifting his gaze down back at you. 

“Baby, you’re fine. Considering you deliver 99.9% of the time, and this is the first we’re having sex in a month and a half, I was planning on cutting you some slack.” You teased, giving him a little nudge, “Also, did you forget how you made me cum like, crazy hard 5 minutes ago? I didn’t realize how sensitive I was gonna be, and not to boost your ego any more than I have, but it’s not gonna take much for you to get me there.” 

Javi smiled, pecking kisses along your neck and collarbone as he brought the pads of his fingers to your clit, circling with just enough pressure to already send you reeling, beginning to pick back up the pace he had forgone. 

Your breath instantly hitched in the back of your throat, sucking the air out of your lungs as the head of Javi’s cock rammed perfectly into your g-spot. That, accompanied by the pads of his fingers swirling against your clit, had you absolutely reeling, whimpering and moaning with each snap of his hips. 

“Fuck me. Feel so fucking good, Osita.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, his free hand running up the back of your leg, gently pressing your thigh closer to your stomach, stretching you out in the way he knew drove you absolutely crazy. 

“Oh Javi, fuck, baby, holy fuck-” You whined, pleasure already swirling in your stomach. 

“That's my girl. Fuck, I can't wait to get you pregnant again, let everyone see how you're all mine carrying our baby. Gonna be such a good Mom, giving us a family, making me a dad. Oh fuck-” Javi groaned, his words hot against your skin between kisses along your neck and shoulder blade, shifting his grasp to cup one of your swollen breasts in his palm, fingers gently toying with the hardened buds of your nipples.

The added sensation was all it took to send you over the edge, orgasm crashing through your body with an unforgiving wave of intensity, pleasure radiating through every inch of you as your cunt clamped down around Javi's cock, gushing with your arousal as you came.

Knowing you had reached your end, Javi began to chase his own high, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as your body melded with his, nearly going limp in his grasp from how good he had made you feel. 

“Mierda- fuck, baby. Gonna fill you up, I have- fuck- so much cum for you, and I- oh fuck!” 

Before he could ramble on any further, it only took a few more thrusts of Javi’s hips before he was spilling inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls as he came, palm splayed across the barely there swell of your stomach, holding you in place against the mattress. 

Your chests heaved in sync, breathless from a fast and furious performance after weeks of no sex, the both of you laughing at yourselves for your record breaking timing of the events that had just occurred. 

“That may be the fastest that either of us have came.” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before your face fell from a happy grin to sheepish frown, “Sorry that it’s been so long. You’ve been so patient, and with how nauseous I’ve been and-” 

“Nuh uh,” Javi shook his head, the plush of his bottom lip in a serious pout, “None of that. You do not need to apologize for anything. Honey, you’re growing a whole person inside of you. Our kid. All I wanna do is be there for whatever you need. Regardless of if that means this or not.”  

It should have been no surprise to you that tears were already beginning to well in your eyes, Javi’s consistently gentle and caring demeanor towards you with anything you’ve needed these past 8 weeks bringing you to the verge of tears from his sweetness practically on demand. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s good tears,” You sniffled, sighing at your own dramatics from your hormones as Javi wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks with his thumb, “You’re just always so good to me, and I love you so much, and you’re gonna be such a good dad.” 

“I love you too, Osita.” Javi smiled, softly cupping your belly in his grasp, “Whatever you need, you know I’ll always be there, okay?” 

“Okay.” You smiled back, rolling over to press your head against his chest, laying for a moment in serene silence until a low and long grumble sung from your stomach. “Does that include bringing me up the bag of sour gummy worms so I can eat them in bed and then take a nap?” 

“Of course it does.” Javi chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pressing himself up off of the bed with a grunt and slipping his boxers back on, “Anything else Baby wants?” 

“Whatever’s left of that chicken sandwich I had yesterday. And a glass of water. Please.” You grimaced sheepishly, shrugging at Javi as you tacked on to your list of requests. “And can you make sure the water is, like-” 

“90% ice cubes and 10% water?” Javi smirked, finishing the rest of your sentence and laughing to himself as you nodded your head. “Be right back.” 

Hey, Jav?” 

“Yeah, baby?” Javi answered, peeking his head back in the door he had just exited from. 

“We love you.” 

“I love you both of you too, Osita. More than you fucking know.”

3 Months 

“I swear I think they already know.” 

“Honey, how could they know?” 

“I don’t know, Connie just keeps giving me this look like she knows something.” 

After last year’s Thanksgiving extravaganza at Chucho’s ranch, where your family and the Murphy’s had joined together to celebrate your engagement, it seemed like an easy choice on everyone’s part to rinse and repeat for this year. 

It had been killing you and Javi to keep Baby Peña a secret for this long, but now that you had finally broken free of the first trimester and everyone you wanted to be the first to hear the news gathered together, Thanksgiving had seemed like the perfect day to announce that in a few months, a third member of the Peña family would be arriving. 

That is, if someone didn’t spill the beans on your surprise based on their intuition. 

With you and Javi alone in the kitchen finishing up the rest of the mashed potatoes before dinner, he discreetly ran his hand across your stomach, smiling at the barely there bump hidden under your sweater. 

“It’s just Connie being Connie.” Javi smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Besides, won’t be a surprise for that much longer.” 

“There’s a surprise?!” Your niece Olivia exclaimed, her sister and the Murphy girls barging into the kitchen behind her, scaring the daylights out of you and Javi. 

“Holy sh- cow, Liv, I didn’t see you there, sweetie!” You gasped, clutching your chest in shock, Javi’s hand immediately dropping from your stomach and diving into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Surprise?” Steve asked, following behind the girls, arms crossed over his chest, “is the surprise that your aunt and uncle are actually cookin’ instead of smoochin’ back here?”

“Ewwwwwwww!” The girls exclaimed, giggling as they stuck out their tongues before scampering away back to the living room. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Javi replied dryly, rolling his eyes at his friend. 

“Glad to see we’re keepin’ it PG in here.” Steve chuckled, giving Javi a little nudge of his elbow, “Seriously though, is there a surprise I should be knowin’ about?” 

“The surprise,” you grunted, lifting up the giant pot of potatoes you had just finished mashing and passing them off to Steve, trying to catch his balance with the newfound weight in his hands, “is that you get to carry these potatoes out to the table! Thank you so much!” 

“Pretty shitty fuckin’ surprise, if you ask me.” Steve groaned, scoffing at his newly appointed task while you and Javi laughed. 

“Tell everyone it’s time to eat, too. We just have a few more dishes to clean up!” You added, smirking at Steve’s annoyance. 

“Now I’m on wranglin’ duty, too? Damn, I regret ever comin’ in here.” 

With Steve mumbling to himself as he wandered out of the kitchen, potatoes in hand, you and Javi found yourselves alone again, smiling at each other and shaking your heads at your close call encounter. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m sure Steve has no fucking clue, and it’ll be a complete surprise to him.” Javi chuckled, grabbing a few dishes off the counter and throwing them into the sink. 

“Now that, I’ll believe.” You giggled, nodding in agreement as you brought the last of the pots and pans over to be washed. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous to tell everyone, I should feel relieved that we don’t have to keep this a secret anymore.” 

“Because it’s kind of a big deal, mi amor.” Javi laughed, giving you a little nudge, “I’m nervous too, but excited nervous, ya know? Can’t wait to tell everyone about ‘em.” 

“Stop it, or you’re gonna make me cry!” You sighed, trying to hold back your tears and Javi’s sweet smile. “Okay, everything’s good to go right? We should probably get out there before Steve comes barging in again.” 

“Good to go, Osita. Let’s get Baby some mashed potatoes.” 

Thanksgiving at Chucho’s was quickly becoming your favorite new tradition, your heart overflowing with so much love and joy to have everyone you cared about together in one place, the best parts of your life overlapping so perfectly. 

On top of your meal being absolutely delicious, your family, the Murphy’s and Chucho nearly had you shooting the better part of your spoonful of mashed potatoes out of your nose, hearing the story of the time a toddler Javi nearly got his head stuck in a Thanksgiving turkey. 

If you weren’t already pregnant, you had most certainly eaten enough food for several people, thankful you had chosen a dress instead of any sort of pants where you’d have to wrestle with the better part of a waistband for the rest of the night. 

Despite their hungry appetites, all of the kids at the table had disappeared post-dinner time, running off the rest of their energy before dessert, leaving the rest of the adults at their seats, still weighed down by their digesting dinner. 

“Damn, that was so good. Props to you on the turkey, Chucho, that bird’s about to put me in a coma.” Your brother David sighed, leaning back in his chair to unbutton his pants. 

“Jesus Christ, you animal, we are in someone else’s home! Button up your goddamn pants!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the chest and nearly knocking him out of his seat. 

“No, he’s onto somethin’. I’m ‘bout to do the same. Shit, I’m stuffed.” Steve agreed, trying to reach down to unbutton his own pants, quickly stopped by Connie with her own slap to the chest for her husband. 

“Don’t encourage him, Steve. He’ll be pantless before you know it, and when he is, that’ll be your problem.” Your other brother, Charlie laughed, making David roll his eyes to the back of his head. 

“Not my fault! I feel 9 months pregnant after eating all this, and after dessert, you can all meet my adorable food baby I’m about to give birth to.” 

David’s comment had you and Javi nearly choking on your food, trying your best to conceal your coughs of shock and surprise at his comparison. It didn’t take much for the entire table to swing their heads towards the both of you, concerned by how you’d suddenly been so off-put, your food had become indigestible. 

“Oh my gosh, are you two okay?” Connie asked, her nurse instincts kicking into high gear at the way you were trying to dislodge the chunk of mashed potatoes from the back of your throat. 

“Yup- uh- yup, yeah, all um, all good.” Javi coughed, letting out one last hack, trying to make as little eye contact as possible, hoping they would assume the redness in his cheeks was from his poorly swallowed food. 

“Yup, we’re uh- all good. Totally fine.” You chimed in, sneaking a desperate look at Javi as if to say “I swear they know and they’re just not telling us”. 

“Jesus, don’t die on us. Didn’t know the birth of my Thanksgiving food baby would be so upsetting to you. Rude.” David teased, giving Charlie a little nudge as the two chuckled to themselves. 

Despite the fact that you and Javi were planning on telling everyone about the addition to your family any minute, the shock and timing of it all seemed to have both of you frozen, eyes peeled to the ground and faces flushed, unsure of what to do. 

The seconds of your silence seemed to drag on like hours, the both of you panicked as your eyes darted back and forth between each other’s, unable to do anything but shrug and let out a half laugh as your bodies grew hotter and hotter. 

“Wait…” Connie hummed, her breaking of the awkward silence filing the room gathering everyone’s attention, watching her silently piece together everything that had just happened in her head. You knew it didn’t take long for her to solve the puzzle, her once confused demeanor now shifting as an ear to ear grin spread between her cheeks in delight, “Are you?” 

“Is she what?” Steve asked, still completely oblivious to the clues Connie had been unraveling. 

After a few more moments of staring at the two of you, one by one, you could see the subtle changes in everyone’s expression, now all looking at you with intense interest, ready to hang on your every word. 

Well, everyone besides your brothers, dad, and Steve. 

“What the hell do all of you know that we’re not getting?” Your dad asked, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Javi, you in on this, bud?” Steve questioned, observant enough to at least recognize the smirk Javi was trying his very best to hide. 

“Steve, seriously?!” Connie sighed, rolling her eyes at Steve’s utter lack of ability to read the room, “David just made a comment about being so full he felt pregnant, and the two of them just about choked on their food.” 

“I dunno?! I mean, they ate a lotta food, too? Why are y’all actin’ like I’m supposed to be a fuckin’ mind reader?” Steve protested, trying to save his own ass from looking like a complete idiot. 

After a few more seconds of more intense thinking than should have been necessary, you watched your brothers start to comprehend enough that they had begun smiling and nodding along with everyone else. 

“No wait, I get it, ‘cause like, if she was pregnant, that like, she’d probably be all thrown off that I said something, right? So I mean-” David paused, a lightbulb finally going off in his brain, sending him into a wildly frazzled state, “Wait. Wait. OH MY GOD!” 

At this point, your shock had disappeared, giggling and grinning at everyone’s realizations, looking over at Javi with the happiest of smiles as he splayed his hand across your stomach. 

“What in the actual fuck am I missin’ out on?!” Steve groaned, still bewildered how everyone else at the table had seemed to figure out whatever mystery was unfolding before him. 

“Jesus Christ Steve, I love ya, man, but this is almost getting physically painful.” Charlie laughed, giving Steve a little nudge. 

“Lord help me.” Connie sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed her husband by the shoulders, “Steven Murphy. If they were shocked about David’s joke about being pregnant, that could probably mean that the two of them are…” 

“WAIT, HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT, ARE YOU TWO HAVIN’ A BABY?” Steve exclaimed, shooting up out of his seat, at long last putting together everyone’s hints after everyone at dinner needed to all but spell it out for him. 

“Took you long enough.” Javi smirked, laughing at his friend as his thumb rubbed gently over the swell of your stomach. 

“We’re having a baby.” You grinned, everyone standing up and cheering in excitement for the both of you, rushing to where you and Javi were sitting to wrap you and Javi up in a smushed blob of a group hug, gently shaking you in their grasp. 

You could feel your heart swell at the overwhelming love and joy that filled the room, tears pooling in your eyes at how much your future baby was already so loved by so many people. 

“Oh honey, we’re so excited!” Your mom squealed, kissing both you and Javi on the cheeks as she wrapped the two of you in a bear hug. 

“Does that mean we’re the aunts now?!” Olivia screeched, pointing at herself, her sisters and the Murphy girls with a giddy grin spread across her cheeks. 

“Guess so, Kiddo.” You beamed, rustling her hair with one hand as the other wrapped around her to squeeze her in your grasp. 

Despite the overwhelming chatter and excitement buzzing around the room, you couldn’t help but notice a soft sniffle of tears somewhere behind you, turning around to see Chucho, eyes watering and a smile beaming from ear to ear. 

“Oh mis hijos (my children). I am so happy for you both. So happy.” Chucho hummed, gently wiping the tears streaming down his cheeks. You and Javi both stood up from your seats, letting Chucho’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight, “I never thought I would live to see the day I would be an abuelo (grandpa). Lucia would- dios mío (oh my god), she would be so thrilled. I know you two will be the best parents. I already love my nieto (grandchild) more than words can say.” 

“Thanks, Pops.” Javi nodded, trying his best to fight back his own tears, looking back and forth between you and Chucho, overwhelmed with the love and joy of a life he’d never thought he’d live 10, 5, hell, even a year ago. There was never a world in which he thought he’d be happy, let alone in love, married and a father. 

“She would be so proud of you, Javier. Your mamá would be so proud of you. And mija, I know she must be up there with your brother, the both of them smiling down on you with the biggest grins. Perhaps they didn’t have a chance to meet in this life, but I know without a doubt they are together, celebrating, and they will be every step of the way. ” 

Chucho’s sweet sentiment had nearly everyone in tears, well, everyone but you, your tears shifting to full blown sobs from the overwhelming emotion and pregnancy hormones of knowing that even though two of the most important people in yours and Javi’s lives were no longer here, that there were still so many who loved your growing family with all of their hearts. 

“Damn, who’s cuttin’ all the onions in here?” Your brother, David, asked, trying to laugh off the obvious tear lines streaming down his face, his joke enough to lighten the spirits of the rest of your friends and family, now all following suit with their soft chuckles and face wiping. 

“Y’all gonna let us have a Thanksgiving where we don’t cry about how happy y’all are?” Steve joked, stepping over to give Javi a little nudge. 

“Well, maybe next year. At least we can promise you the baby won’t steal the show and be born on Thanksgiving.” You chuckled, shaking your head at Steve’s ask, not realizing that everyone had gone back to a suspicious silence, looking around at each other, like they were all in on some secret you weren’t supposed to know about. 

“So…. When’s uh, when’s the baby supposed to be born?” Your dad asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Javi. 

“Oh Greg, seriously?” Your mom asked, slapping your dad across the chest. 

“What?! Like you weren’t thinking about it, too!” 

You looked over at Javi, the both of you confused why everyone suddenly now seemed to be doing silent calculations in their head, counting across their fingers until their conclusion either lead to hope, or disappointment. 

“I’m already out, I know it.” Your brother grumbled in disappointment, consoling with your nieces, also shaking their heads. 

“I gotta good feelin’ about this one.” Steve chuckled, rubbing his palms together in excitement, nudging a very clearly embarrassed Connie. 

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Javi asked, scrunching his brow in confusion at everyone in the room. 

“Oh my god….” You sighed, finally putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together, “Is this about your stupid bet that you made about how quickly we were gonna have a baby?!” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that it’s stupid if I win my two hundred dollars…” Chucho admitted sheepishly, almost giggling at the way you and Javi rolled your eyes to the backs of your skulls that every one of your friends and family knew the two of you had about as much self control as two pent up, horny teenagers. 

Next to you, Javi’s head was buried in his hands, cheeks bright pink with embarrassment, glancing over at you with a sincerely apologetic grimace that couldn’t help but make you laugh. 

“Okay fine,” You sighed, everyone’s eyes lighting up as they waited on your every word, “we’ll tell you, but whoever wins this stupid bet better be buying us something incredibly nice for our baby shower. Okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, tell us so can profit off you two goin’ at it like rabbits.” 

“Steven Murphy!” Connie scolded, stiff arming her husband, almost as embarrassed by his comment as you and Javi were by this whole ordeal. 

“Sorry, sorry! Yeesh, god forbid a man give his buddy some shit! C’mon! Spill the beans! As long as the due date is the closest one to May 15th.” 

“July 4th! July 4th! July 4th!” Your nieces and the Murphy girls began to chant, unsure if they really understood the concept of the bet at hand, or if they really just wanted to pick the Fourth of July because they liked it. 

“Unless you’re growing the world's tiniest baby, I’m guessing it’s not April 22nd.” David sighed. 

“Exactly nine months from our wedding? Really David?” You groaned, unamused by your brother’s prediction. 

“What?! Miracles do happen! And it’s best that they happen when I’ve got money on the line!” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi muttered under his breath, the two of you having no choice to laugh about your current predicament. “Fine. You wanna tell them, honey?” 

“Okay. Baby Peña’s due date is….” You paused, playing into the anticipatory silence, “June 7th.” 

“YES! I KNEW IT! PAY UP SUCKERS!” 

With everyone’s teasing and taunting about the state of this bet, Connie Murphy’s voice would have been the last either of you would have guessed to be so excited about having the most educated guess about the day your baby was conceived. 

“What?” Connie asked, giggling at your shock and surprise, “Can’t blame a girl for making an educated guess! And yes, I will buy whatever you want off your baby registry, fair?” 

“Fair.” You and Javi agreed in unison, glad to at least be the bearer of some benefit from your embarrassment. 

What you hadn’t noticed was the pack your brothers, Steve, Chucho and your dad had formed, quietly whispering to one another, nodding their heads in agreement as their eyes darted back between the group and you. 

“What are all of you up to back there? Because if I know anything about the 5 of you, it’s probably nothing good.” You sassed, arms crossed over your chest, tilting your head in disapproval at the sheepish crew. 

“Well… Do y’all know if it’s a boy or a girl?” 

“We lost all of our bettings on the due date, we need to make it back up somehow!” 

“Plus, 50/50 is pretty damn good odds, if you ask me.” 

“You all need help.” Connie sighed, pointing to the boys with a disgusted look on her face, making everyone else laugh. 

“Says the lady who just won a bet we all were in on!” Steve retorted, throwing his hands up in defense. 

“Well at least I wasn’t harassing them about it!” Connie protested, scolding the five with a stern look before turning back to you and Javi, “I mean… they do have a point though, 50/50 is good odds and I’ve already got a winning record.” 

“You all are the worst, I hope you know that.” You sighed, shaking your head at everyone, unaware of the goofy grin spread across Javi’s face as he stood behind you. 

“Oh! Oh! He knows somethin’!” Steve stammered, happily pointing at his friend and his ear to ear smile. 

You couldn’t help but smile too, heat creeping through your cheeks at Javi’s adamant prediction and how happy it made him. 

“I swear he doesn’t,” You promised, despite Javi’s glee, “Javi’s just absolutely convinced it’s a girl.” 

You swore Javi’s smile grew even wider as his hand slid across your stomach, gently cradling it in his grasp as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I’d bet all my money it’s a girl.” Javi grinned, sweet brown eyes locking with yours, twinkling with enthusiasm at the thought of having a daughter. 

“Better save that money then, Peña.” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I hate to admit it, but you’re sure as shit never wrong. And lord knows if you’re endin’ up a girl dad like the rest of us, you’re gonna need to save all the money you can get.” 

Giving your belly the softest squeeze, Javi looked you up and down, in complete adoration and shock that somehow, regardless of money, he had ended up the richest man alive with you by his side, and a baby on the way. 

“It’ll be worth every fuckin’ penny.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae

@kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadresa @milly-louise @jay-zzle

@the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

@nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk

@msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler

@burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring @meetmeatyourworst

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[zanephillips]

BOYD HOLBROOK Narcos 1.02 "The Sword of Simón Bolivar"

[pedrohub]

PEDRO PASCAL as JAVIER PEÑA in NARCOS

S03E01 | “The Kingpin Strategy”

[pedroacrossthestreet]

the thing is

someone not only storyboarded this angle

but they pitched it to pedro

and pedro agreed

so

that person deserves a raise