#Daily-Escuella

[dailyjavierdoodles]

day 25 - trying not to get pants wet

[dailyoliveira]

day 79 — sketches (+ javier drawing)

[zarkishere]

(between tears and snot) you might be right (wipes nose) i liked it a little bit

Just got struck with a thought for a mildly canon au: what if after saving Kieran from the O'Driscolls in ch4 Javier sleeps with his head on Kieran's chest so the first thing he hears when he wakes up is his heartbeat, reassuring him that Kieran is alive and they got to him in time

oooyuggg oooohhh …. oouuhhh … this is so sweet … oouuhh javi absolutely would be petrified to lose kieran after already having nearly done so once … not like they don’t both know that this lifestyle means that they could lose each other at any given moment, but to be directly confronted by the rush of wind on your face from a right hook from grief that just barely missed your skin … javier feels a little more emboldened in his endeavors regarding protecting and generally indulging in kieran and his wellbeing.

he’d be like “dutch, i’ll protect him. i’ll watch him. i have time, the others are working on something big, they don’t need me. let me take care of him. (not gay. no homo.)” and since kieran sleeps on the floor of shady belle, they both move in there to try and stave infection off and every morning the girls have to shuffle around them while they’re intertwined together on the floor. it’s like javier is a coat that kieran can’t shirk— he keeps the fever down. and javi always wakes up first. it’s like he’s got a sixth sense for when kieran is about to wake up, and he always wakes up first, even by mere moments. which is funny because up until then, kieran would be up before the sunrise and that be about the time that javier was laying down to sleep. love affects you down to your biology 💔 anyway yes and javi always always always lays there, opens his eyes, sees kieran’s resting face, will sometimes raise a hand to smooth a worried crease off of kieran’s dreaming face, and then will indulge himself in laying back down and listening to kieran’s strong heartbeat. for however long it takes for kieran to wake up, or at least indicate to javier that he’s awake. sometimes he knows javi is awake and will sit very still for a while, just because he wants to stay like that just a little longer. (sometimes, especially later into these endeavors, javier can tell by the way kieran’s breathing changes. but he will never let kieran know that.) i think there have even been times where kieran would sleep too deep and his heartbeat would get softer and javier would suddenly hear gunfire and smell blood and hear the lap of the water against the wood of a boat like he’s losing it all all over again and he’d end up shaking kieran awake just to make sure his eyelids weren’t meant to home coins just yet. kieran knows he would do the same and also be 10x worse so he doesn’t really mind but this isn’t to say that sometimes he’s not like “javier. my sweet lover. my desert sun. i am going to be okay. please let me rest. go rob somebody or something before dutch kicks us both out for being useless.” just so he can get some peace LOL ouugghh they’re so sweet i got off topic but yes this idea is SO good and i agree so bad and also i think that they were already obsessively tactile prior, just behind closed doors, so now, it’s just … embarrassing how touchy javi is. not that the rest of the gang doesn’t understand, like they haven’t clung to a body and basked in it’s warmth because they knew it could very well be cold tomorrow, but … man. he’s very. brazen with it. LOL ohh i lov them ok ill be quiet but thank u so much for sharing that with me i adore the idea. i would love to expand sometime on javier’s thoughts and fears in an au where kieran lives … and kieran’s thoughts and feelings as well ….. as well as draw them all cuddled up with javi listening to the steady tempo of kieran’s heartbeat and how it sounds like a song that he only wishes he could play on guitar because it sounds like the greatest love song ever written uughhh ok ok ok thank u i have to leave or i’ll cry

[livingdeadmlm]

You Bring Me Closer to God pt6

Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man. 

Physical Sex: AMAB. 

How far are things going?: FIRST KISS!! Also, ass grabbing and flirting! If you have any ideas, let me know—your suggestions will really help my writing go faster!

Warnings: Priest Reader is getting drunk, so it is slightly out of it for the kiss and ass grabbing, but not in a bad way? Idk. This shit is consensual cause that's how I wrote it to be. 

Outline: The reader is told Dutch wishes to speak to him, preparing a pie, the reader sets off with Kieran at sunset, not knowing it was an invite to a party!

What inspired me to write this: the awful priest romance book I picked up. 

Other: I am also thinking about writing a Moder Office AU for red dead cause I'm a sucker for the energy of 2010’s fanfics and its tropes. Also if you want to be tagged when I post please let me know! I want to make a tag list because updates are pretty far apart!

Part 1 2 3 4 5

The morning sun painted the town in warm hues. The men had to stop by Valentine to pick up Trelawny from the general store. Each man couldn’t help but glance at the church as they dismounted their horses. 

The sun was like a halo around the building. There was a slight movement inside the church; one of the curtains swayed. They assumed it was your room, though they had no way of knowing for sure. It was just a nice thought.

The shopkeeper greeted them, outlining the available sales and wishing them a good morning. Charles grabbed a cup of coffee while Javier picked up a bread roll and a pack of cigarettes.

Arthur decided to buy a bottle of snake oil, a health tonic, but another bottle caught his eye. Sitting in the corner of the shop was a bottle, and though he usually didn’t pay much attention to such things, today was different. He picked it up, its soft pink label catching the light. 

Philter tonic, it read, something for men to ‘get things done.’ It was strange, but something inside him clicked. Without thinking, he tucked it into his satchel. It wasn’t until later that he realized it had very little to do with stamina and a great deal with his feelings.s  

A voice caught their attention as they returned to their horses: “Mister Smith, Mister Escuella!” Each man looked over and saw you with a market bag by the butcher. 

“Good morning to you both!” you called cheerfully, though it sounded like you were trying to keep your voice light. “Will you join me for breakfast?” While your voice was cheerful. Arthur didn’t speak, his attention turning to his horse, which suddenly needed brushing. 

Remembering his dream, he wanted to turn around and say hello and adequately introduce himself, but something held him back. You were such a sight for his eyes; he felt like a schoolboy and nervous. 

Javier, ever the charmer, was the first to speak. “Ah, Buenos dias, Father (Name). No, we can’t join you today. We’ve got business to attend to.”

Your smile faltered, just for a moment, and you sighed. “Oh, I see. I wish I’d known! I would’ve made you a snack for the road.”

Charles waved his hand dismissively, insisting there was no need, but you wouldn’t hear it. “Nonsense! I enjoy providing.” You said this with such warmth that each man got a lovely treat from you for the road.

“Good morning, Father! What brings you to chat with these three degenerates?” Trelawny laughed as he placed his items into his horse's saddle. Your face showed confusion as Arthur silently cursed at Trelawny.  

You laughed softly, but there was no real humor behind it. “These fine men join me for church meals,” you explained. “I try to provide meals twice daily for those passing through or in need. Tonight, I’m planning a peach pie for dessert.” You held up your market bag, showing the small bounty inside. “As for the third, I’m not sure who you mean!” Your shoulders shrugged, glancing around for who the third person could have been. 

“Why, I mean Valentine's greatest bounty hunter!” bounty hunter? The man stood behind Javier, and Charles finally turned around with a sigh. Holding out his hand for you to shake. You introduced yourself, “Hello! I’m Father (Name)! It’s nice to meet you!” Your hand was warm and soft against Arthurs's harsher, calloused hand. The man was silent; you assumed he was shy. Such a big man being shy was a little funny to you; as you took in his features, he finally spoke, “It’s good to see you, Father (Name).” 

Your heart caught in your throat at the sound of his voice. Arthur. You had heard so much about him, felt the weight of his presence even through the veil of the confessional, but this—this was real. You held his hand a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing it, but your fingers still tingled from the contact. 

“Well,” you breathed, your voice suddenly soft. “It’s good to see you again, Mister Morgan. I wish you all a good day. Be safe out there. You all know where to find me if you ever need anything!”

The words rushed out, and before you even realized it, you were turning away, your cheeks flushed as you hurried back toward the church. Alarm bells went off in Charles and Javier's minds. Arthur had never joined them at your meals. What did you mean again? 

 Arthur stayed silent, his eyes still on the church, even as Trelawny made a joke about the odd folk of Valentine before jumping on his horse. Arthur huffed, getting on his horse and trying to ignore the prying eyes of Javier and Charles. There were bigger things to worry about than how the two of you knew each other, like not dying in Blackwater. 

You almost tripped up the stairs to the church; you couldn’t have been more awkward when finally being faced with the man who seemed to have infected you with homosexual ideations. Such a handsome man had been sitting with you in the dark and in private, teasing you. The same flutter returned to your stomach as you set everything on the kitchen counter. You must calm down before having sweet Kieran with you, probably the two of you alone. Thinking of that soft-eyed man only made your stomach flutter more. He was so eager to be there and help you.

You started cooking, wanting to do something simple to keep yourself occupied. Kieran had joined halfway through, letting you know the Dutch wanted you to visit their camp come sunset. Kieran seemed shy, keeping his distance but still wanting to be close enough to speak to you. When you served him a plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he scarfed it down with the same speed you had always seen him use. 

Kieran initially seemed hesitant, lingering a few steps away, but his eyes betrayed a desire to be near. When you served him a steaming plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he dove into the meal with an eagerness that reminded you of a long-starved animal. He ate quickly, each bite disappearing almost as soon as it touched his plate.

“Kieran, dear boy, you know you don’t have to eat so fast, right? I won't take it away, I promise!” you chuckled, trying to ease the tension in the room. Kieran paused mid-bite, scratching his beard awkwardly, revealing his nervousness. 

"I know! I, uh, I just haven’t had food for a while! And yours is so good, it tastes like home cooking!" His voice carried a hint of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this meal was indeed for him.

You reached out, your hand hovering near him in a gentle gesture. He flinched slightly, instinctively retreating before relaxing as he realized you meant no harm. Softly, you stepped closer and wrapped him in a side hug, trying to offer comfort and reassurance. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, Mister Duffy! Since it's just the two of us here, you can have all the food you want; how about that?” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth in your heart as his eyes lit up like stars against the backdrop of the kitchen's warm glow. 

“Could you keep calling me Kieran? I quite like it.” His voice was softer, almost hopeful. You laughed gently in response. “Of course I can, Kieran. Kieran. Now, let me start some more eggs for you.” The playful repetition of his name hung in the air as you stepped back to the stove to continue cooking.

He had about three more plates before finally full and seemingly tired. “Ah, Kieran, why don’t you have a nap? You can use my bed for a few hours; I'll still be here just cleaning up and preparing for dinner.” Kieran was much less shy while sleepy, as he agreed, taking off his black jacket and practically passing out once his head hit your pillow and your blanket surrounded him. 

You left your room to start on the pie; it would now be a gift for Dutch and Hosea. You weren’t sure what Dutch needed you for, but you were raised never to go to people living empty-handed.

Kieran was in heaven practically. Surrounded by your smell and in a real bed after months of sleeping on harsh ground or in awful weather. He had no idea how to thank you when he’d wake, apart from wanting to be in your bed forever and not to give in sleep so he could keep enjoying the hug of you around him. 

______

As they headed toward Blackwater, Javier’s mind wandered back to the church. The way you smiled at him that morning, that delicate look of kindness, and that softness in your eyes. He hadn’t missed how Arthur’s attention had been fixed on you, either, how he seemed to be drawn to you in a way that was hard to ignore. Javier had always been able to read people, and he knew Arthur well enough to see that there was more to that long handshake.

“Think he’s been seeing Father this whole time?” Javier asked, his voice low but teasing, his eyes watching Arthur ride ahead.

Charles, riding next to him, glanced over. “Arthur? He’s been acting funny ever since we came to Valentine. But don’t expect him to admit it. I don't know what it is about that church and him.” 

Javier gave a knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t know… I think I see it enough. What about you, Charles?”

Charles looked away quickly, trying to hide the flush creeping into his cheeks. He wasn’t one to talk about these things; it was too troublesome, but the more time he spent with Father (Name), the more he felt that same unsettling warmth stirs inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was how you treated him, so kind and attentive, or simply the pull of your presence. Either way, it made him uneasy—and yet, he couldn’t seem to shake it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Charles replied, his voice gruff. “But maybe Arthur and I aren’t the only ones who feel it.” Javier shot him a sideways glance, his smile curling at the edges. “Oh? You, too, huh? I thought you might be the type to keep your distance, but you might be more like me than you let on.”

Charles gave him a sharp look, but Arthur called back over his shoulder before he could respond.

“Quiet down, you two,” Arthur grumbled. “We’ve got work to do.”

Javier chuckled but didn’t discuss the matter further, knowing that despite their teasing, something more profound was taking root in their little group. As they rode through the landscape, maybe the others felt it as well. Javier didn’t mind competition at all, or even teammates, for that matter. 

__________

The smell of peaches and cinnamon filled the church. After another half hour in the oven, you would take the pie out to cool properly. But for now, you have a new task at hand. The door to your room creaked softly as you checked on Kieran, who snored softly as you entered. You noticed the holes in Kieran's jacket and wanted to mend them as a surprise. With your needle ready, you took his coat in your hands and settled into the rocking chair you kept in your room. You rarely used it, being so busy running around, but lately, Father Gavin and the Sisters had taken on more work, lightening your load.

As you began to sew, the gentle rocking of the chair faded from your mind. Numerous tiny tears in the jacket along the back and elbows indicated that Kieran had greatly cherished it. Once the jacket was finally finished, you snuck out of the room, careful not to wake the poor man; he seemed to need the rest. Fresh from the oven, the pie smelled even better than you had hoped. Setting it on the counter, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you. Finding tasks was more exhausting than simply checking off items from a list.

You reentered your room. Your bed was big enough for the two of you, but it felt very forward. What if you joined Kieran, and he saw it as an insult? What if he went off and told the entire town that the Priest was a pervert? The thought shook you to your core. 

Fearing the possibility, you approached the bed, glancing at Kieran's sleeping face and gently shaking him awake. Kieran's eyes were half-lidded as he complained about being woken up. "Kieran, I’m getting exhausted, too. Would you mind if I joined you?” Your heart raced as his eyes widened. "Of course not! It’s your bed after all, please—" Lifting the blanket, Kieran invited you in. 

You could feel your face flushing now, the reality of sharing a bed setting in more and more. You hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since childhood and would beg your mom or dad to let you sleep with them after a nightmare. 

Sliding in next to Kieran, you could feel how warm the man was, which made you even more tired. Subconsciously backing into his body as you drifted to sleep, Kieran felt very awake now, not realizing what he had agreed to. 

You were flush against him, and Kieran was mortified that you could feel his shaking. But your breathing slowed down, and hesitantly, Kieran wrapped an arm around you. His hand rests against your chest, feeling your heartbeat. His face is pressed in your hair, breathing in the smell. 

He felt like a pervert, but what other time could he be this close to you? When else could he be in your bed WITH you after being fed a full meal? 

It was like he was still dreaming. 

Kieran remained awake for the next hour as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. He held you close, feeling your chest's gentle rise and fall as you breathed peacefully beside him. He found comfort in the rhythmic sound of your breath. 

Kieran stretched his arm out, his hand moving to your shoulder, shaking you awake. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you took in the sight of a sun-kissed Kieran. 

He looked very handsome in the soft light. Shaking the thought from your head, the two of you sat up. Not wanting to leave the warmth of the bed, Dutch had asked for you, so you needed to show. Slipping your shoes back on, unhitched your horses and made your way to this camp, peach pie in hand. 

Stepping into the campground, you were greeted by the number of tents and cases of whiskey and beer. 

You held out the pie you made to Dutch as he greeted you. “Now, what's this?” he asked, admiring the braided crust you had made. 

“I made peach pie! I didn't want to come empty-handed!” You smiled very nervously, wondering why Dutch needed to speak with you.

“My that's very sweet of you! Please set it down there; I've been meaning to ask something of you.” Kieran was pulled away from your side by Mary-Beth and sent you an apologetic look. 

In your nerves, you didn't hear the sound of horses pulling into camp. Or the wolf whistle aimed at you when you leaned over the long table to place the pie in the middle. Cursing yourself for forgetting cutting tools and maybe even a plate. What you did notice was the harsh smack on your ass. You yelped, and a loud voice behind you spoke. 

“What's this?! For my return, you've all gotten Ol’ MacGuire a lady for the night!” your head whipped around to see just in time as he pulled this new man back by his collar by Arthur. 

“That's a damn priest, you moron!” Arthur growls, yanking the man to the side as the sting in your ass begins to fade. Trying to maintain your composure. 

“What sorta god gives a lad such an ass?!” The man's face was pale in horror as he finally realized you weren't a woman in a dress but a man in a priest's garb. Javier had a slight grin, and Charles walked over, “That's Sean MacGuire; I'm sorry about that…” 

“It’s uh okay! Just wasn’t ready for that.” You tried to laugh it off, but his words stuck to your mind. Was it a compliment to have a good ass? What even made a good ass in the first place? Your hand went to rub the dull ache.  

Your thoughts stopped as Dutch directed you to hear a speech by Sean. 

“Mr.MacGuire is back, everyone! Let’s have ourselves a party!” There were a few cheers as the man stood on a soap box, already swaying. 

“Uncle Sean is back! Don’t you worry, Mrs. Grimshaw. I’ll keep the girls in line. If I have to whip them, I will!” A few girls yelled back, and the older woman you assumed was Grimshaw yelled, ‘Someone has to!’ 

Slowly, you felt Dutch rest his hand on the small part of your back. You tried to think nothing of it; surely, in front of 20-odd people, Dutch wouldn’t attempt to follow in Sean’s footsteps of assaulting your ass. 

“And don’t you worry, Mr Pearson, you drunk ol’ shit bag, it’ll be nothing but the FINEST! game in the pot now dead eye MacGuire is back!” You heard a few chuckles as Sean made a slight shooting motion. In Dutch’s laughter, he pulled you closer at the waist. No one else was paying attention, but it felt like, at any moment, one of the women in front of you could turn and see how close Dutch was holding you. 

“And don’t worry about nothing, Mrs. Grimshaw. We will have this running like clockwork. I love you bastards. Have fun…Have lots of fun!” 

Sean stepped off of the box and took a step toward Arthur. “Even you, you grumpy old bastard Arthur!” Arthur shook his head. Dutch’s arm slid away from your waist slowly and deliberately as he grabbed your shoulder to face him. " Would you like to join the festivities? There's plenty of room for one more.” 

“Sure! I hate to say I don’t drink much, but I’m sure I can find something to do!” Dutch smiled, turning away to put on music from his gramophone. 

_____________

“Do you know how to dance, Father (Name)?” Mary-Beth asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stood at the entrance of Dutch’s tent. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow around her, highlighting the excitement etched across her features.

With a grin, you extended your hand toward her. “I know enough to seem impressive,” you replied, your voice light and playful. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she took your hand. Slightly bowing together, you began to sway rhythmically beneath the tent's shade. With each movement, you added small, flamboyant spins and twirls that elicited more laughter from her, making her smile even brighter. 

Mary Beth touched your shoulder before saying, “It seems like someone else wants a dance.” You spun Mary-Beth to peak at who she was referring to. From the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur. Who was looking down at his boots and trying to hide that his eyes were staring at the two of you?

”Oh! Well, I’ll let you go to dance with him!” Mary Beth rolled her eyes, and as you bowed, she whispered, “No! He wants to dance with you, and he’s just too. Shy!” Mary-Beth stepped away and held her hand out to offer you, in a way. Your face flushed as Arthur cleared his throat behind you. He took your hand, and you felt breathless, “Is this okay?” For two men to be so close, for two men to slow dance, especially in front of others. 

His hand rested on your waist. “You think this is the worst thing this group of fellas has seen?” Your hand rested on his shoulder with a sigh. A bit of relief washed over you as you swayed to the music. But you were still tense. While these men may not stone you, God could still see you. He could see your flushed face at a simple dance.

Your hand intertwined with Arthurs. Your skin felt hot, and the sway with Mary Beth felt much smoother. But your anxiety keeps you stiff. Arthur was much closer as well, feeling the brush of his stomach against yours; you could feel his belt buckle press into you.

Your mind swirled faster than you could process; he was so close, so very close. Memories of your conversations began flooding back into your mind. You longed to hold Arthur, to look into his eyes that had witnessed horrors beyond your lifetime. You felt giddy now that he was there, lightly twirling you to the music. 

You glanced at Dutch, dancing with a redheaded woman, giggling and smiling. You sighed, relieved. With Arthur’s comment, this must mean Dutch is just exceptionally sociable! Arthur dipped you, causing you to laugh. 

As the music swelled around you, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. Arthur’s grip tightened slightly as he pulled you closer, his face drawing near. You could see the playful glimmer in his eyes, mirroring the warmth in your heart.

Arthur’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and the world around you felt still momentarily. “Maybe we can find a place where we can be alone,” his tone earnest. As the promise hung between you, you felt nervous all over again. Alone, and then what? What did the two of you want so badly, but it could only happen alone?

“Just relax,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. You nodded, forcing yourself to let go of the tension that had been building. His confident yet tender movement made your heartbeat quicken. Each twirl and sway felt like some sort of storybook.

You felt his hand slip slightly lower on your waist, grounding you. Something was intoxicating about being so near him, the heat from his body mingling with the late afternoon sun that bathed you both in its golden light. With every dip and turn, it felt as though God had conspired to give you just this moment.

“Who’s this Arthur?” The voice was harsh and raspy 

“This is Father (Name), John. It's great to see you back up and moving, Marston.” You stopped dancing but still held each other as you looked at John. The man stood sideways, a bottle in his hand. His eyes scanned your body. You noticed the deep scar on his face; it looked fresh, still pink and red. 

“Are you that whorish priest everyone was talking about?” 

“Whore?! What on earth are you talking about?” Arthur released you, grabbing John by the arm and leading him toward the edge of the camp near the cliff. Whore? Is that why you were wanted here? Your throat began to burn as you glanced around the camp. Sean's comment echoed in your mind—arthurs suggestion about being alone together. 

A few people glanced in your direction as you turned to the horses. You spotted Hosea reading by the light of a lantern next to a crate of bottles. You didn’t want to use the whiskey for comfort; that felt wrong. However, your embarrassment took over, and you grabbed one of the tan glass bottles. Hosea looked up and greeted you with a friendly hello.

“Hi, Mister Matthews. Please excuse me,” you stammered as you walked toward the horses. Kieran brushed your horse's mane, smiling until he noticed your anger.

“Father, is everything okay?” His voice was filled with concern.

“I’m just fine, Mister Duffy; if you please, I must leave.” Kieran winced at your use of his last name, and you paused, not wanting to take your frustration out on him.

The rumors about you being a "floozy priest" weren’t new. Tales began to spread when you started working at Valentine and meeting people. Being so young and new to a cattle town didn’t earn you much respect. People were eager to judge, especially when you were just trying to do your job—feeding the hungry and providing clothes and blankets to those in need.

But you did it all privately.

That privacy started the rumors, so you focused more on community-based helping. They were kept in the confessional booth if things had to remain secret.

“Is that what you folks think of me? Am I just some whore for you to laugh at?” Kieran's eyes went wide, and his hands tightened around your saddle.

“No! No, no, of course not! Who told you such a thing?” You tore the lid off the whiskey bottle. It tasted like caramel and honey but burned your throat as you took a gulp.

You caught sight of John and Arthur walking back toward you, their silhouettes becoming clearer against the lowering sun. Arthur, sounding exasperated, said, “Father (Name), this fool is drunk and duller than rust. Don’t take his words to heart, please.”

You coughed roughly, the burn in your throat intensifying as you processed Arthur's words. “Words always start somewhere, Mister Morgan,” you replied, trying to mask the discomfort in your chest.

Kieran shifted his weight, noticing your unease. He’d never seen you mad or annoyed, nor had anyone else. As you mounted the saddle, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pausing your ascent. You felt the solid strength of his grip for someone who looked like he might fly away in the wind—he was surprisingly strong.

“Honest, Father (Name), we don’t think of you as a whore! We know you’re a good man! A great man, please!” You groaned as Arthur pulled you down. Feet back on the ground, you noticed John, still drunk, staring at the sky to avoid eye contact. Arthur hit the man’s shoulder. “Look, Father (Name). I’m sure you’re not a whore. Rumors are the devil…and what have you.” 

You rolled your eyes. Sure, the words “I’m sorry” didn’t leave his lips, but you assumed this was the best you would get. The large gulp of whiskey began to warm you to your core. A fool's words are worth less than half your thoughts if he truly is a fool. “Bah. I suppose I’ll take it. You’re forgiven, Mister Marston. Just watch yourself from now on.” Your mind started to wander as you walked back into camp and heard a soft strumming. Accompanying it was a voice you knew all too well, singing in Spanish.

_______________

"Angel de amor, no comprendo tu pasión." (Angel of love, I don't understand your passion.) You turned the corner and saw Javier sitting with a very disinterested Tilly. However, Tilly perked up at your sight and waved her hand to call you over. You took the spot where Tilly had been sitting as she stood up. “I’ve been needing to use the restroom for the last half hour, but I didn’t want to be rude!” she whispered before scampering away, leaving you comfortable on the carpet.

Javier's strumming continued: “Si la comprendo, no la puedo expresar.” (If I understand it, I cannot express it.)You vaguely understood as he sang, trying to drown out the singing from the large fire across the camp.

“Voy a esconder, tu lánguido gemido alla en la tumba para poder descansar.” (I’m going to hide your weak moan there in the grave so I can rest.) You were mindful to keep the bottle in your hand and limit yourself from just sipping from now on. But the drink still burned as it went down, causing you to groan. 

“Yo no siento el que me hayas querido.” (I no longer feel that you love me) Javier's eyes were closed as he sang, “Yo no siento el que me hayas amado.” (I no longer feel that I was once beloved)

“Solo siento que me hayas combiado hombre mama inferior que yo.” (I’m sorry you changed me into a man inferior to who I am) Javier held the note, singing the rest of the song much softer as it ended. You hummed, “What a sad song, Javier. It’s beautiful, though.” You held out the bottle of whiskey, and a look of surprise took over his face.

”I thought men like you weren't allowed to indulge Father (Name). You said you don’t even like people who drink.” He took the bottle from your hand and stared intensely at the lip of the bottle. 

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta be a fool and repent the next day.” You felt so warm as Javier took a slow drink from the bottle. “Plus, I don’t hate people that drink. It’s just a vice that makes men the most stupid.”

Your eyes were focused on his lips wrapped around the bottle. Was he savoring the taste? It was sweet, but the burn overwhelmed the flavor before it settled. Finally handing the bottle back to you, Javier grinned, “I’m trying to taste more than just the whiskey, Father (Name).” 

Your mind went blank trying to process what he said. But he began to strum again, this time with a much more upbeat rhythm. “Besame, besame mucho.” (Kiss me, kiss me a lot). You swirled the bottle in your hand, feeling the weight of the liquid shift in the bottle. 

“Como. si fuera esta noche la ultima vez” (as if tonight was the last night) 

”Besame besame mucho.Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte despues.” (I’m afraid of losing, losing you later.)His gaze met yours, steady and unwavering. You took another sip from the bottle in the same spot Javier had taken his sip.

”quiero tenerte muy cerca. Mirarme en tus ojos, estar junto ati.” (I want to have you very close. Look into your eyes and be next to you) You leaned on your hand, watching Javier leaning closer, still playing. The song made less and less sense, and your mind could not keep up and translate what little you would understand sober. Was whiskey supposed to be this strong? 

”Piensa que tal vez mañana. Estaré muy lejos, muy lejos de aquí.” (I’m thinking tomorrow we can be very, very far from here.) Javier was very close, and the smell of the whiskey was strong on both of your breaths. “I’m not sure if I should be so close to you, Father…” his tone teased as you realized just how alone the two of you were. No one was walking by but a very drunk Karen whose mission was not to watch the two of you.

The strumming had stopped; you two were very close. Javier closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself. Your noses touched; you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“Father (Name)! I want to talk to ya!” you pulled away with a gasp, feeling your heart pound in your chest. Javier let out a low groan, taking the hat off of his head and running his hands through his hair. He was frustrated but trying to keep himself composed. “Sean… you couldn’t have waited? We are in the middle of something important.” Sean stood with a hand on his hip, slightly swaying.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me get a word in, eh? It’s not tha best time, but I gotta clear the air here, Father. Do ya mind?” Not waiting for a response, Sean grabbed your arm, guiding you away from Javier. You dusted off the skirt of your cassock, trying not to glance back at Javier's longing eyes. Sean took you near the horses just past the fence into the wooded area. Your body still tingled from the closeness you just had with Javier.

“Look, Father (Name); I just want ta say sorry for smacking you on tha arse. Honest to god, I thought you were a lass to accompany me for the night!” a nervous grin spread across his face. “I didn’t mean ta come off all brash.” there was still sway in Sean's stance, but much less than earlier. Sean held out the whiskey bottle he was drinking and held it to your lips, tilting it for you.

“It was an honest mistake, Mister Macguire! I was more surprised you commented on it at all.” You laughed as Sean's face held a confused expression. “I mean, you can’t much tell cause of da skirt, but” his hands reached for the loose cloth, handing you the half-full whiskey bottle.

He pulled the fabric forward, your body flush against him as the skirt now did nothing to hide your ass. That was some sort of marvel to behold. Sean's head was over your shoulder, staring. “Ah! Now, would ya look at that! Magnificent! Like tha peaks of the Derryveagh!”

Perhaps you were some whore, because instead of breaking away, you only yelped at the exposure. “Is.. is that good?” “You’re damn right. It's good! Please allow me.” You weren’t sure why Sean would ask permission but did what he wanted anyway, but there was no point bringing it up now as his hands groped your ass.

“Much more than a handful; this is what any man dreams of! If ya start showing off more, I think more people would stop by for Sunday service!” Sean howled with laughter, still holding your ass. You could feel Sean’s hard-on pressed into your thigh. Close contact with a man you didn’t know beyond his name felt much more manageable on your nerves than your almost kiss with Javier.

“That’ll get ya warmed up for ol’ Javier; I tell ya, I’m a bit jealous whoever gets the peak at ya first! Unless you’re willing to wait for Mr.Macguire.” You whined at his words; no one other than Arthur had been this close to you physically or spoke to you like this before. His hands mushed the fat on your ass one last time before letting go and stumbling back to camp, talking to himself about Macguire Junior not being ready for all that.

Your breathing came out in huffs. Taking the momentary alone time to breathe. The cold air hardly phased you. The whiskey is in full swing, keeping you warm and fuzzy. “Hey there.” You leaped a foot in the air. Charles emerged from outside of the camp, holding a rifle in his hands.

“Mister Smith! We must stop meeting like this.” your heart pounded. Charles laughed lightly, moving closer. “Why aren’t you at the party? They have you on patrol duty?” You adjusted your skirt; Sean left it very wrinkled with his grabbing.

“No, I just leave the parting to the professionals.” Charles rested the gun, the barrel aimed at the ground. You hummed softly to yourself, your gaze fixed on the vibrant tapestry of trees surrounding you. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught your eye—a small rabbit darting through the underbrush, desperate to escape the sharp pursuit of a fox. You felt a pang of sympathy for the vulnerable creature. “Aww, poor thing,” you murmured, shaking your head.

Standing beside you, Charles chuckled lightly, his voice laced with an edge. “Looks familiar,” he remarked, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mister Smith,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Charles took a deep breath, the sound almost reverberating in the stillness of the forest. You leaned against a tree, crickets chirping as you revealed in the calm. “I tried the pie you made; it was great. I have never had one like it before.” Before you could stop, a big smile took over your face.

“That makes me very happy to hear about Mister Smith. I spent a lot of the day working on it!”

Charles inched closer, the subtle heat of his presence sending a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I could tell,” he said, his words sliding smoothly into your ear like a secret. “The crust was perfect, but what really got to me…” He let his arm brush against yours, just the slightest touch, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. “I could taste you in it.”

A surge of warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading like wildfire. Goosebumps danced across your skin, your pulse quickening. The words you had once playfully spoken to Javier echoed back in your mind, uncomfortably vivid.

“I’m sure that pie tastes much better than me,” you laughed nervously, but the sound was shaky, vulnerable. “I probably just taste like skin and sweat.”

And sin, you thought, the word lingering on your tongue, burning in your chest. If there was a test of your devotion, you knew right then you had failed it, miserably. The temptation was overwhelming, and you could feel it, as undeniably palpable as the heat rising between you.

Charles reached out, cupping your face, and you happily leaned into his strong hand. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe when you’re sober, we’ll have this conversation, rather (Name). I want you to remember.” These were the most words you’ve heard Charles speak since meeting him. Your eyes studied his face. You couldn’t tell by his face alone, but he was nervous.

“I’ll be much too nervous without the whiskey, Mister Smith. You’re much too handsome.” Your speech was more slurred than you would’ve liked. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and his other hand toys with the gun barrel to keep busy.

You stood up, no longer leaning against the tree for support. You realized Sean’s bottle was still in your hand and took another sip. You should probably return it to him.

“Sean might be a loudmouth bastard, but this is one thing he and I can agree on.” Charles leads you up the small hill back to camp, his hand very low on your back. You assumed he meant you ass but just didn’t want to say that out loud.

Charles bit you a goodnight, walking back into the wooded area; your eyes caught Hosea still at the table; your legs were aching, so why not sit?

“Good evening, Mister Matthews!” You settled onto the wooden stool, the whiskey bottle resting beside you. Hosea looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face as he set aside the paper he’d been reading. “You’re awful chipper, Father (Name). Glad to see you better from earlier.” You chuckled, remembering how dramatic you’d felt. With a soft sigh, your hand rested against your palm, taking in Hosea's relaxed demeanor. “I’m too old for this, Mister Matthews,” you admitted, stretching your back. “I should have gotten this energy out 20 years ago. Not when my back hurts from even just sitting wrong.”

Hosea laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, radiating warmth and familiarity. He placed a supportive hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch sending a comforting flutter through you, almost like a gentle spark igniting something deep within. With a slight grin, he held out a small, weathered bottle toward you. “Homemade tonic. Trust me, you’re going to feel it tomorrow,” he said, his voice filled with a teasing undertone.

The bottle was unmarked, its surface smooth yet slightly worn from years of handling, hinting at the loving care that went into its creation. As you accepted it, a rush of gratitude surged through you, and your heart swelled just a bit. You met his gaze, finding reassurance in his warm brown eyes. “Thank you, Mister Matthews. I'll be sure to keep this on me,” you replied, tucking the bottle safely into your pocket.

“You’ve still got some youth left in you, Father," he continued a hint of mischief in his tone. “Giving up all those freedoms so young was bound to catch up with you at some point.”

You chuckled, then sighed, “It's funny. I thought I was BLESSED by Jesus Christ not to have sex matter to me. Never interested in women, just focused on God!” The laughter dissipated into a groan as you pressed your face into your hand, overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions. Hosea chuckled softly, patting your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“I thought I was different from everyone else, that I was…special, capable of helping people find solace within the church.” This admission made you feel vulnerable, and you slumped against the table—the wooden surface, cool against your skin, grounding you amidst the swirling thoughts.

“You’re plenty special, Father (Name). Look around—you’ve got a group of outlaws clamoring to be in a church!” Hosea’s voice was gentle yet encouraging, his hand now gingerly rubbing your back. The scent of peppermint lingered in the air as he leaned closer, adding to the warmth of his presence.

He described Arthur, sharing tales of how he used to be much more argumentative and brash. “But since he first wandered off to see you, he’s changed. He’s been throwing himself into camp chores, even showing kindness to everyone around him. Just the other day, he went out of his way to get young Lenny a pocket watch after the poor boy lost his old one,” Hosea recounted; his admiration for Arthur is evident in his tone.

A sense of pride and purpose puffed up as you listened. Yeah, you were helping someone be better. Sure, it was an outlaw who still did the jobs he needed to survive, but as a person, he was seemingly better. Of course, Arthur told you this himself, but the confirmation was just as lovely.

You looked at tha table and saw that the pie you had brought was almost completely gone, a smile tugged at your lips. Hoping everyone was able to get a taste before it ran out. Turning your attention back to Hosea, you noticed his silver hair looked incredibly soft in the light. “He even went hunting with me to get a 1000-pound bear.” You sat up, staring at Hosea with wide eyes, “No kidding, you went out to catch a bear that big!” Hosea got a puff in his chest, “Sure did! It’s not the first time I stared death in the eye, and just like any other, I did not falter.”

You stared at Hosea in awe, imagining him taking on such a large bear. “I didn’t know I’d been in the presence of such an amazing hunter. Did you end up killing this bear?” The prideful look on Hosea's face remained as he let out a confident nope! “But I and Arthur scared it away back into the woods.” you laughed at the story and yourself for believing it. “You’re too funny, Mister Matthews, quite the silver tongue. I imagine you’ve gotten many people under your spell with that.” You stoop up from the stool, feeling much better. “What category can I put you under?” Hosea's hand grabbed yours, stopping you before stepping away.

You lifted Hosea's hands to your lips, “I am utterly bewitched.” pressing a kiss to his thinner hand, you walked toward the small scout's fire, spotting Kieran.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Kieran looked at you nervously before scooting over. Your mind still buzzed as you stared at the fire. “I’m sorry about getting aggressive with you, Kieran. I just thought those rumors were behind me now.” Kieran stared up at you, watching you intently as you sat on your knees next to him, taking his hands in yours, “Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Kieran's face flushed, the sight of you on your knees and the warmth of your hands wrapping around his. Even just the fact that you were apologizing made him stir below the belt. “It’s okay, Father (Name). I, uh, I’m sure no one would be too happy to be called a whore, least of all you .” you sniffled, feeling very overwhelmed again. You pulled your hands from his, reaching up instead to cup his face, the roughness of his beard grazing your palms. The sensation was grounding, and you felt a surprising sense of comfort. “You’ll let me make it up to you?”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was a quiet, steady resolve. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice soft but earnest. His face is bright red as you lean in closer to him.

“I just want to make things right with you.” His breathing mixed with yours

And then, without a word, his lips brushed against yours. You froze for a heartbeat, feeling the softness of his kiss, before your lips responded, deepening the kiss. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more frantic. You could feel the heat of his touch seeping into your skin, but you couldn’t feel anything else; the world around you seemed to fade until all that remained was the press of his lips against yours.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. His usual hat fell off of his head. It was slow and tender at first, but the more you kissed him, the less you worried about your lack of experience, just needing to feel him against you. The warmth of his body was the same as when you slept next to each other. So comforting.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath. His hands rested gently on your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile, but before you could say something, a familiar smell of a cigar was in the air.

“Kieran, my boy, would you mind checking on The Count? Somethings got him agitated.”

Kieran muttered something under his breath, but he nodded. “Right, Dutch. I’ll do that.”

He turned back to you, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I’ll be right back," he murmured, as if he were torn between staying and doing his duty. His eyes held yours for a moment longer before he stood, his hands slipping from your waist with reluctance.

You watched him go, your knees beginning to ache from the position. "Well, well…" Dutch’s smooth, low voice seemed to hang in the air. You looked up to find him leaning against a nearby boulder, his gaze fixed on you with amusement. His smile was sly, almost predatory. "Seems like you’ve got the boy all worked up, don’t you?"

“My mind got away from me. Uh could you help me up?” You held your hands out, the ache worsening. He casually pushed off the rock, his boots crunching on the ground as he stepped toward you. His presence was commanding in an unsettling and captivating way.

"Oh, I think this arrangement is just fine," he said, his tone dropping slightly, its weight on your shoulders. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “There’s something about you, isn’t there? Something... irresistible. Something just real special about you. Your attention, has all my men whipped.” His eyes trailed over your face, lingering on your lips, then meeting your eyes again with a fire in his gaze. "You know, Kieran’s a good kid. But I can’t help but wonder... does he know what he’s gotten into?"

Some of you still felt uncomfortable with how effortlessly he said these things. You couldn’t deny that Dutch’s charisma was magnetic, but you weren’t sure where it was all going. "He knows, I think; I’m not even sure I know," you replied, your voice steady, though you felt the heat of his stare still lingering on you. You groaned, the locking of your knees almost becoming unbearable.

Dutch’s smile grew a little wider, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, that’s good," he said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I’d hate to think he’s got a monopoly on you." His hand brushed lightly against your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a touch that was all too deliberate as he helped you up finally. "Dutch, don’t start some odd competition about me."

He chuckled darkly, leaning just a little closer, the warmth of his presence almost overwhelming now. "Oh, I never start something I don’t intend to finish, darling," he said, his voice low and playful. "But that’s a story for another time, I suppose."

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension. The firelight danced off his face as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. Your mind returned to the redheaded woman he had been dancing and smiling with just hours earlier. Why would he speak to you like this?

Dutch gave you a final knowing look before he straightened up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. But just know this—if you ever want to talk more... you know where to find me.” Your knees popped as you stretched, the pain subsiding slowly.

You saw Arthur stepping out of a tent. He nodded his head to you, and you walked over, hearing strumming again. Kieran followed behind you, now wearing the jacket that you had mended. The night had to be nearing an end as you saw all three women fast asleep, two men you hadn’t run into snoring next to Hosea, who was still reading by low light.

The singing was lovely as you approached the fire. Kieran guided your ever-swaying bottle to sit on the log without falling. Sean’s voice was quite pleasant as he sang with an older man you didn’t get the name of.

You didn’t try to hear the song's words; the fire was so bright you kept your eyes shut, letting it go through one ear out of the other. Kieran hummed the song next to you, and Arthur’s voice joined for a few lines, the whiskey letting you forget for a moment that each man had heard those rumors about you. You smiled as the song came to an end. You wanted nothing more than to lie down in your bed. Like your pillows and blankets called your name.

Your eyes were half-lidded. “I should head home now,” you smiled at Kieran, going to stand. “Thank you for having me; I've never had a night like this.”

Arthurs's hand pressed into your chest, stopping your walking. “I think it's safer for you to sleep here for the night. Yer vulnerable out there this late, drunk.” you scoffed, turning to face Arthur. “Am I that much safer here?” one of Arthur's hands went to his waist, asking just what you meant by that.

“You all invited me here, t—to make me impure! Other than dear Kieran here.” Your hand reached for Kieran's head, clumsily petting his head and mumbling about his hair being soft. Which Kieran slightly revealed in the public display of tenderness.

“Next time yer here, we aren't givin' you whiskey. Seems not to let you think properly.” Arthur huffed, holding your collar to stop your attempts to walk away.

“I’m thinking more clearly than ever, Mister Morgan!” you exclaimed, struggling to break free from Arthur’s grip as you cast your gaze downward, feeling the weight of embarrassment. He held on firmly, not letting you retreat.

“We don’t believe that (Name). It was just some gossip the girls picked up from town, and trust me, they didn’t take it seriously either,” Arthur replied, his eyes softening as he studied your downcast face, betraying the effort you were making to hold back tears.

To him, your expression resembled that of a puppy being picked up by the scruff of its neck. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he realized how much this affected you. “Look, we know you’re a man of the cloth,” he said, his tone more reassuring now. “So just take it easy! We’re bad men, not evil.” You sighed; his words didn’t quite sink in with your state, and you still felt vulnerable.

“If you need to be home that badly, we will take you.” His warmth was as comforting as that sleepy feeling.

The next chapter is a choose-your-own-adventure! if you want the updates as they're posted, head to my Ao3! or if you want them all at once, they will be posted soon!

[josephquinnswhore]

mi vida - javier escuella x female reader

summary: life with a romantic outlaw.

word count: 1.9k

content warning: not much tbh. mentions of murder, robbery, theft, conning.

The late afternoon breeze swells through the camp between the natural barricade of trees surrounding your current campsite, Horseshoe Overlook. Many go about their duties, few of the men are often gone more days than not, returning with food for Pearson to prepare or things to contribute to camp, mostly money.

That comes in many forms of succession, theft, robbery, conning, and murder. No women in camp were partial to what the men did to keep everyone afloat, yet—amongst the many people who committed these atrocities. Never had you felt safer, they were loyal, protective.

Profoundly your boyfriend, Javier. Fiercely loyal, even to Bill, who constantly harassed Javier over his ethnicity. The name calling, sniggering and remarks about Javier’s tendency to groom himself.

Regardless—it was Javier who left camp yesterday, gun in his holster and urging Boaz out of camp when he had found out that Bill had been captured by bounty hunters. To save that same man who had been relentless in attacking and attempting to humiliate your lover.

The smell of Pearson's warm stew that had been simmering all day over a small fire makes your stomach ache with anticipation and creates a welcome distraction rather than your disdain for Bill Williamson. Warm food to fill your aching stomach as many of you only ate one meal a day. The same thing that was prepared every day. A mix of meat, vegetables and bland stock.

But you were grateful that you had the opportunity to eat. Thankful for those, often Charles or Arthur bringing back food for Pearson to prepare. Often, you take it upon yourself to go searching for herbs to make the stew more flavoursome.

Many had noticed and pleaded for you to forage enough for all those daring to ask. The bundle of herbs that had been carefully clipped and placed into your sachel earlier this morning.

There were plenty blossoming, thyme was your favourite, it was accessible being close to camp and growing in abundance.

It gives a sense of trepidation, as you sit on a small chair by your and Javier’s shared tent, small fire beckoning you in with it’s promise of warmth, the flames licking up the logs into devour.

This routine you'd created for yourself was one your body had recognised.

Same time of afternoon each day, preparing your thyme by picking the herb off the stem meant you’d be sitting down before long, next to Javier and eating some supper. The routine is something you find solace in amongst the chaos.

Being in a relationship with an outlaw was a first for you. Correction—your first relationship was with an outlaw. How couldn’t you have fallen for the man, driven with such confidence and unprecedented power. The divine will of his words and his actions of care he puts into the way he looks. A man like that was sure to draw your attention, sweeping you off of your feet the very first morning you met.

Thought of the memory is often shared between the two of you privately when most are sleeping, no one to hear your secrets but the moon itself. Uttered words in his native tongue make your ears warm, still able to fluster you months later into your partnership. His words, not hollow like most, but full of promise.

Promise to love, cherish, care for you. His life. Or as he calls you. Mi vida.

This day in particular was not out of any ordinary you’d become so used to. Miss Grimshaw made her demands to all the women, expecting perfection and efficiency with each due task. Tending to the dishes, washing clothes, hand sewing patches of material onto clothes that had been torn.

Dutch often sat in his own tent, a pondering gaze upon his brow with his nose buried in a book. The same book he often quoted his own inspired wisdom.

When it gets to this time in the afternoon, when everyone returns and feeds together. Daily tautness no longer separates folk, drink is readily accessible for anyone who abides by the bitter liquid. Few wooden crates found around the camp are stocked with beer and whiskey.

Of course—Bill is one of those men who seems to create his own problems, blaming the bottle as if it weren’t his own hand to take the glass and gulp the poison down so greedily. As if he needed it, you never understood his dependence upon something so harmful.

Setting aside your personal mound of carefully plucked thyme into a small wooden bowl, you stand and pour yourself a cup of hot coffee. The pitcher sits by the fire by your camp, grateful for such an accessible commodity. Nursing the steaming black substance, you take a moment to blow the steam and look. Really observe the world moving around you.

Above the trees, the sun is beginning to set, illuminating an orange glow around the camp, where your eyes finally lay upon Javier, sitting with Arthur at the table halfway across the grassy field of the campground, playing five finger filet. He—of course wore gloves at your discretion, knowing how concerned you are that he’d cut off a finger one of these days.

Still, as the two men sit, fisting the handles of their sharpened blades, the 40c pot is sitting in the middle of the table, pending the winner.

“Tu pinchazo.” He utters as he knicks his finger with the steely blade. Another attempt, and he curses again.

“Hazlo bien tonto, concentrate.” The lick of his tongue on his upper lip is a sheer sign of dedicated concentration.

That, and he had one more attempt at getting this right, or he would lose the game. Being Javier, that was not a notion he could accept, defeat. He was a prideful man in every aspect of life.

Miraculously, the man managed to concentrate and successfully overcome the second round with a victory, taking the 40c pot and sliding the coins into his jean pocket. “Good game Arthur, perhaps we will play another time.”

Left alone only for a brief moment, he begins sharpening his knife at the table, red stains of his blood are splattered across the wooden surface as the aftermath of the victorious game. Yet, something more profound approaches, Bill with an opened bottle of whiskey in hand..

Tightly, your fingers curl around your mug, sipping on the coffee anxiously, your heart pounds against your skin with worry.

“Whatcha doin’ greaser?” Bill taunts, approaching Javier to which he’s met with silence.

Again, Bill takes a large mouthful of liquor and tosses the bottle onto the soiled grass. “I said, whatcha doin, greaser.” His boot kicks into Javier’s crate, getting more aggressive, prying for Javier’s attention, any kind of reaction.

Javier shoots up from the wooden crate, welding a knife in hand as he puts Bill into a steady headlock.

“Just playing with my knife, sheep fucker. Just playing with my knife.” The sound is cold and callous, holding the sharpened blade against Bill's neck, holding him hostage for a few moments before shoving Bill to the ground, sliding his knife back into his holster.

“Saco de mierda borracho.” He mutters bitterly to himself as he crosses the campsite to join you, when his dark brown orbs meet yours, he realises you’d been watching him, the interaction.

Finally finishing the last of your coffee, you set the mug down on a wooden barrel inside of your shared tent and Javier approaches with a sheepish expression on his face. “Hola mi vida.” He utters softly.

“Hi.” Gazing into those brown orbs you sigh. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I cannot believe he’s still doing this after you saved him yesterday.” With a gentle gesture, your thumb runs along his cheek.

“He is forgotten, the love of my life is here beside me, in my arms, how could anything else matter?” His leather gloves are warm and damp on some fingers with his blood from his earlier game of five finger filet.

Wordlessly, you take it upon yourself to remove the barrier between your eyes and his wounds, they’re minor, but you insist on doting over him. “Sit.”

His body is sat on a chair before you could urge him a second time, always listening to your requests, giving into you. Anything you yearned for he would give.

“Will you ever stop playing that foolish game?” The scolding makes him laugh, the sound has become so familiar and comforting to you.

“No, mi amor. I did win after all.” That prideful smile, beaming at you with his skin glowing with the orange illumination of the setting sun, another day being spent with the love of your life.

“I figured you’d say so, you’re a stubborn man.” The comment is met with a hum of his own as you tent to his wounds, although they would be fine unattended to, Javier loved when you doted on him, he saw it as affection. Being cared for unconditionally was all he ever needed.

“Let me make it up to you, for worrying you.”

“That’s not necessa—“ before you could finish, he’s interrupting you.

“Not another word, mi vida. Tomorrow we will ride side by side, to a nearby location by a small pond, I will pack some cheese, bread and berries into your wooden basket. We shall feast and relax without the constant hounding or senseless noise at this camp. Your presence is obligatory.”

Slowly, your fingers retreat from his hands as you finish cleaning his wounds, listening to the utter reverence of this man, his words are true and written as if needed to be followed. Guidance, and devotion.

“Of course I will join you.” His own hand grasps yours so elegantly bringing it up to his face before pressing his lips against your knuckle, the kiss lingers for a moment before he reaches to caress your cheeks.

“Mi vida, let me sing to you.”

Sitting on your bedroll beside his own, he reaches for his guitar and strums a familiar tune, one of a love song he had sung many a time before because it’s your favourite, Cielito Lindo.

“De la Sierra Morena, Cielito lindo, vienen bajando. Un par de ojitos negros, Cielito lindo, de contrabando.

Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay.

Canta y no llores. Porque cantando se alegran, Cielito lindo, los corazones. Ese lunar que tienes, ceilito lindo, junto a la boca.

No se lo des a nadie, Cielito lindo, que a mí md toca….”

As your life partner sings, his angelic voice caught in the gentle breeze as folk around camp are compelled to join around the campfire to hear the melodic tune. They fail to understand in their joy, that Javier was declaring his love for you in song.

It was a touching gesture that the two of you share alone. In many ways — would remain ignorant to the rest of them. At the end of this day, you would fill your bowl with stew and fill your stomach. But for now, you sit united with your lover, taking every moment revelling in each other's proclivity.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Van Der Linde Gang Monster Headcanons

Don't mind me with my stupid little headcanons and shit.

🌙 Dutch Van Der Linde - Vampire

Turned decades ago before the West became wild. Molly O'Shea is the reason he can walk around in the light of day.

🌙 Hosea Mathews - Vampire

He was born human but he was turned by Dutch to save his life during their first robbery together.

🌙 Arthur Morgan - Werewolf

Was bitten by John and turned one night when John got out of his restraints. He's a lot worse than John due to the fact that Arthur is a hell of a lot bigger.

🌙 John Marston - Werewolf

Was bitten and turned before he joined the gang. He has a tendency of slipping from his restraints so it often leads to little rampages across the countryside.

🌙Abigail Marston - Succubus

Born to be a succubus, she used her powers for her prostitution job to get by. That all stopped when a werewolf of all things got her pregnant.

🌙Jack Marston - Unknown

He's far too young for his parents to tell, but as he grows older, it's starting to become apparent that he may take after his father.

🌙Charles Smith - Wendigo

He may not exhibit all of the signs of a true wendigo like cannibalism, but the hulking form tends to shut people up.

🌙Sadie Adler - Human

She's the only human woman in the gang. She has a slight distaste for monsters, but the Van Der Linde Gang is her home.

🌙Micah Bell - Demon

Born out of sin from a deep pit in hell, he continues his hellish torment in the Wild West.

🌙Susan Grimshaw - Banshee

Born to be a banshee, she's kept up at night with the knowledge of how others around her pass. It's why she's so strict and stern with some people sometimes.

🌙Molly O'Shea - Witch

She earns her keep at the camp solely from keeping Dutch and Hosea alive. She's not a fan of using her magic on others unless it's necessary.

🌙Tilly Jackson - Faun

Tilly can sometimes pass for human if her dress is long enough to cover her legs and hooves, but the horns can be a problem. Mary-Beth can always be found with Tilly weaving flowers into her little horns.

🌙Javier Escuella - Skinwalker

He was cursed to become one at a young age, way before he joined the gang. It's often a useful curse but it does come with many downsides.

🌙Bill Williamson - Werebear

Born seemingly human, he didn't know she slept with a monster until he was barely into his teenage years when he turned. It's definitely one of the major factors to his prickly demeanor.

🌙Sean Macguire - Satyr

The Irish charmer is a typical Celtic satyr. Sometimes it's hard for him to keep his holster attached to his leg from how it's all bent naturally. He missing half of one of his horns.

🌙Lenny Summers - Minotaur

Easily the sweetest man of the gang, he's a gentle giant until the bull sees red. It is sometimes hard for him to find a hat that fits the bovine head, though.

🌙Karen Jones - Succubus

She's not very good at her life's work, but when she does succeed, she's pretty brutal. There's a reason she's always drunk all of the time.

🌙Mary-Beth Gaskill - Witch

Her powers are different than Molly's. She's mostly found messing around with plants and such. She's always growing something, mostly herbs to be used for medicines.

🌙Uncle - Human

The only other human in the gang. There are often daily jokes and threats about how the other members are gonna hunt him down and eat him because of his bullshit. Mostly from Micah.

🌙Simon Pearson - Undead

Kept alive after an accident in the Navy by some supernatural forces. It explains the faulty food.

🌙Leopold Strauss - Dragon

It explains his lust for dollars and coins since he was a young child, though, he can't turn into a full beast as he was never strong enough.

🌙Josiah Trelawny - Incubus

His drive did not last long and his powers don't really work nowadays. He's been around longer than Karen and Abigail, though. He's still thankful he's just as strong.

🌙Orville Swanson - Demon

He used to be an angel but made some horrible choices in life which led him to be struck down to hell. Now he continues on the earth continuing bad habits.

🌙Kieran Duffy - Vampire's Thrall

Kept alive by Colm's word and will, he only broke free because Arthur basically kidnapped him. He much prefers the Van Der Linde Gang but he still feels the pull of his master calling for him.

[rosemary-morgan]

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - Our safe place (18+)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

And thanks to all who read and like my stories. Stay healthy and take care, my lovely bees 🐝🌺

Warning: Nsfw, just pure filth, but they are so in love🖤

Summary: A secret place where you both could leave your daily worries behind. A place where there is only you and Javier…

Our safe place (18+)

It was still very early in the morning when Javier and Y/N snuck out of camp. Together they wanted to enjoy a little privacy, to do their morning care without prying eyes. They could do that more often now in their new home, because there was a place nearby where they could bathe undisturbed; protected from the gaze of strangers.

Javier and Y/N had recently discovered this place their little secret, which they had never shared with anyone in the camp so far. Now they were both standing in the water up to their waists, their bodies wet, in a tight embrace. Goosebumps rippled across their skin, as it was quite fresh this morning. But it didn't seem to bother them. Especially since Javier enjoyed the feeling of her plump breasts against his skin. Y/N had her arms wrapped around his neck, her hair was soaked, single strands of hair sticking to her face, neck and shoulders. Javier's hands gently ran along her hips, reaching softly into her soft flesh again and again.

"Mi amor. I'm enjoying this togetherness with you."

"Me too," she whispered as she gazed into his eyes. Oh, she had fallen for Javier instantly. She was drunk with love for this man. She would never forget her first encounter with him. But that was another story.

Wherever Javier touched her, it tingled like crazy. His fingers felt warm, the warmth of his body spread to hers and she sighed contentedly as she pressed her body even closer to him. She could clearly feel his cock grinding against her.

"Te deseo, Y/N…"

His voice was a shade deeper, which excited Y/N deeply. It was so calm and quiet around her and she was enjoying this moment with all her senses. Javier's mouth gently brushed hers before he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss at first, while his hands caressed her beautiful body; over her hips, down to her gorgeous bottom, gently massaging along the way, purring into the kiss as he did so.

By God, this woman was driving him crazy. They had freshly become a couple, just a few weeks ago their love story began. Everyone in the camp had just been waiting for them to finally find their way to each other, because it had been obvious how much Javier and Y/N liked each other.

Her lips felt like velvety rose petals, almost too fragile to be touched. Nevertheless, after he put her lower lip in his mouth, tasted it, and bit into it lightly. It pleased Javier to see her lips swollen from his kisses. The men should know that Y/N already belonged to another. Slowly, he let the tip of his tongue glide over her, as if he had all the time in the world. Then he continued with her upper lip, nibbling a little more until his kiss became firmer. Y/N's heart beat faster as she responded to the sudden outburst of his passion. Javier felt her quickened pulse under his fingers as he cupped her neck with his hand and squeezed gently.

Y/N visibly shuddered as his hand stroked her breast, then reached for the firm flesh and moaned into the kiss with pleasure. Y/N did the same, gasping deeply aroused into his mouth as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

"Javier…"

She loved to be touched by him. His kisses were a sweet torture, his lust and passion had completely ruined her. He had been her first man and had shown her how beautiful physical love was.

His thumb and forefinger played with the sensitive nipple until it became quite stiff. This time it was she who intensified the kiss and it was not five seconds before she finally grabbed him and led him out of the water. A blanket was already spread out on the lawn and Y/N led Javier there, settling down there with him. The young man was slightly bent over her, his toned body snuggled close to hers, while he looked at her pretty face. Lovingly he stroked her cheeks and his eyes wandered over her seductive neck, watching the fine drops of water slide down her skin. He heard her heartbeat and the soft chirping of the birds. It was almost as if time had stopped.

Satisfied, he lowered his head to explore her seductive breasts more closely. Her delicious, round breasts that were moist, just like the rest of her body. God, Javier would take his time pleasuring this woman. He wanted to explore every corner of her body, tease her with his tongue and lips. He would use his hand to straighten her breast, covering it with kisses. Then he circled her erect bud, sucking her deep into the moist warmth of his mouth.

Javier laid his naked body completely on top of her and Y/N immediately opened to him like a flower. She could feel his cock where she needed it most. Instantly she moaned as he rubbed against her clit. All it took was the slightest touch and she went crazy with desire.

"Oh, Javier…"

Her lustful sigh sounded so tortured and Javier couldn't help but smirk.

"Yes, mi amor?"

Her hands grabbed his taut buttocks, squeezing him tightly. She was all wet and already ready for him. He reached between their bodies and began to gently caress her swollen clit. Satisfied, he felt her moisture.

"That wet for me already?" he asked, stroking her gently until another sigh was heard. Y/N was burning with desire for him. But he wanted to tease her and give her a little taste. So he dipped two fingers inside her, finger fucking her first while looking at her closely. His lips were on the corner of her mouth, but he didn't kiss her, because he was enjoying her lustful sounds too much.

"You like that?"

"Javier… ahh…"

His breath mingled with hers and he moaned softly with her, enjoying this moment as much as she was.

"Javier, please… I want you."

Her desire was his command. His fingers slipped out of her as he stroked his hard cock against her wet folds instead, before thrusting deep inside her. He lowered himself into her until he was completely enveloped by her wonderful warmth. Javier paused for a moment, breathing heavily on her neck, enjoying this moment. This moment when everything seemed calm. As if the world around them didn't even exist. Just the two of them and this wonderful place.

He felt small shivers of pleasure roll through her body. As he began to move inside her, they both moaned together and Javier's lust increased immensely. His pulse throbbed like crazy, his body demanding everything she could give him. He lifted her legs over his shoulders so he could be deeper inside her, and Y/N looked up at him as he straightened up, giving her a lustful glance. The tip of her tongue wet her soft lips, her eyes fixed steadily on him. Javier sped up, thrusting harder into her, causing Y/N to let out a high, lustful sound.

"Oh yes… Javier! Right there…"

And Javier thrust again. Powerful and intense, because he knew what his girl liked.

With every sensual movement of the young man, her depraved side also awoke. A side that was only granted to Javier. Her muscles tensed as she lifted herself to meet his hard, wild rhythm. Again and again, he took her in, and then he felt her arms around his body. She held onto him, moving with him. Whispers of love rose to the sky, words full of love, full of passion. Tender kisses as they made love. It was clear to hear how wet his girl was. Every time he slid into her tight wetness without effort, the loud slapping of his balls against her skin was heard and it drove them both crazy. Y/N was so filled with lust that she almost sobbed. Her cheeks were all flushed, and her eyes were shimmering. His body stimulated her clitoris with every movement, with every thrust and when he came, no longer holding back, he called her name and Y/N did the same. She found her fulfillment at the same time as he did. He embraced her tightly while she clung to him, enjoying the last aftershocks of her climax. They remained in this embrace, their bodies tightly entwined, enjoying this togetherness. She lovingly whispered his name as he tenderly kissed her cheek.

"I love you…"

"I love you too, Y/N…"

For a long time, they remained lying there. Naked and completely fulfilled in this beautiful, secret place. It was their little love nest. They laughed together as they looked up to the sky and talked about trivial things. But they were beautiful things, ideas, and dreams. They both wondered if one day, for the rest of their lives, they would enjoy this peace…

[daily-escuella]

✨Rare pair week!✨ Today's prompt was "First Snow" imo Tilly and Javier shouldn't be rare to see, they're adorable together! I love seeing them subtly flirt with each other in camp 🥰🥺❤️

(This week is extremely busy for me, so if I do more rare pair prompts, they will not be released on time, but I had a lot of fun with this one!)

[spacemomfisher]

Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, and send it to 10 of you favourite followers (non-negotiable). SPREAD POSITIVITY! ♥️

(No pressure! Please accept this moody lighting Javier as a gift from me in case you don't feel like doing this <3 )

Bless you sweet friend!! I will ALWAYS accept a Javier, hot diggity shit

1. As a physical element, I like my eyes tbh

2. I like that I’m a very empathetic person

3. I like my humor

4. Fun fact I used to hate my voice because I have a lisp, kind of, but recently I’ve started to really like my voice so that’s Neat™️

5. I like that I’m a p awesome nurse, I rock at my job, and I actually love that

[natjiren]

lay down your pride, lay down with me!

[dailyjavierdoodles]

day 58 - tinder profile

request - Posing with a fish like a straight man on tinder

[ttuesday]

How would the gang fare when playing Red Dead Online?

The Gang playing RDO

Arthur

He just wants to explore the map and pick some herbs. Arthur tries to stay away from other players cause he knows there's a 90% chance they're hostile and will hogtie him.

Arthur likes going around and searching for the collectibles. He doesn't use the online collectibles map (he doesn't know it exists) so he buys the little maps from Madam Nazar and uses them instead.

Whenever he's stressed, he'll play for a few hours but he doesn't play rdo every single day.

Charles

Charles really wanted to get into playing rdo. He likes the different role and all the customisation options you have for your online character.

Charles spent hours making his perfect character, spent his gold on the trader role, bought a bow and went hunting... and that's when he stumbled across another player.

Charles thought they would be friendly and did the wave emote at them. But the other player wasn't as friendly as Charles thought they'd be. Yeah Charles didn't really like the game after that.

Dutch

Dutch grinds so goddamn much in game. He’s constantly doing trader missions, scouting around for collectibles and doing some bounties too.

He swears he’s earned all of his money and gold, and that didn’t buy them with his actual money... but people have their doubts when they see how much gold he has.

If anyone kills him then Dutch is that guy that sends them a long paragraph telling them that he’s very disappointment.

John

John really doesn’t know what he’s doing but somehow gets through the game. When he’s not accidentally running off a cliff, he’s somehow successfully doing bounty missions.

He has a high level but he doesn’t know how to craft anything and rarely uses tonics. If John gets into a gunfight, he just runs around or else he accidentally punches a npc.

People presume he knows what he’s doing but John has no idea. Oh and John spends all his gold on clothing and things for his horse so he has very little money.

Micah

You might think Micah’s that player that immediately kills everyone but he isn’t. He spends most of his time looking for other players and when he finds someone, he gives them a pelt.

Sure it’s only a one star pelt but he’s a low level player so he isn’t much of a threat. He follows them around, helps them take out any bounty hunters or lawmen and eventually they start to trust him.

And that’s when Micah gets out his explosive ammo and completely destroys everything and anything the player has. Usually the player kills him about 10 times afterwards and Micah rage quits.

Bill

Bill just wants to be left alone in rdo and wants to buy the different breeds of horses. If he sees a player come up on the mini map he SPRINTS in the opposite direction. 

He never has any money so although he tries his best to save up to buy more horses, it’s gonna take him a long time. 

Bill dies on every. single. mission. Seriously, even if he has an entire posse with him, Bill always dies and usually it’s through his own clumsiness. Yeah he needs to work on making sure he throws the dynamite away from his character.

Sadie

Sadie is an expert at the showdown series. She rarely plays free roam because there isn’t a lot of action there unless you do a mission, and even at that it’s not enough action for Sadie.

She’s successfully completed the call of arms missions in all the different locations by herself because she thinks doing it with other players fuck it up for her. 

When they added more legendary bounties she did them all within a day but Sadie thinks they got a little repetitive after a while.

Mary-Beth

Mary-Beth is the ultimate griefer. She bottles up all of her anger and frustrations she feels during the day and lets them all out the second she’s playing rdo.

Yup, she’s the player that hogties other players and puts them on the train tracks. If she’s feeling particularly evil, she’ll even do some emotes while they’re waiting for the train.

Mary-Beth doesn’t take the game seriously which is why she finds griefing very easy to do. Oh and of course she giggles whenever a player parleys with her or sends her an angry message.

Javier

Javier does each daily challenge every day. It takes him a while to get them all done so that’s all he really focuses on. 

Sometimes he’ll play a few rounds of the elimination games when its x2 on money or xp but he sticks to staying in free-roam a lot of the time.

He was very excited for the new Blood Money update and now he gets triggered whenever he hears someone mention ‘capitale’

[harlow1898]

@daily-escuella requested Arthur seeing a ghost so I wanted to post this on Halloween lol

Thank you for the request it was so fun to draw!! Requests are still open :>

[wholesomecowboy]

SPEAKING OF BREAST FEEDING! Can we talk about Javier just... sucking away at your boob as y’all slow fuck? Like... you finally got the baby to go to sleep, you finally have a chance to be intimate again, and just to make it all the more heated, he just sucks away at you; says how sweet your milk tastes.... 👀

[waiting-for-motivation]

the grizzly mountains

summary: After helping Jack build a snowman, (Y/n) sneaks off with her beloved mexican outlaw.

pairings: Javier Escuella x Reader, Jack Marston

warnings: fluff, kissing, making out

words: 917

a/n: Hope you enjoy this fic of sweet boi Javi <33

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

With the blizzard finally gone, the camp is starting to come back to life. Arthur and Charles left this morning to go hunting. Some outlaws warm up at the campfire, while others follow their daily routines. Jack laughs at the sight of his favorite aunt. (Y/n) greets him with a tight hug, even lifting the boy and spinning him around. She would love to join the men on their hunting trips or patrol, but she also knows that the camp needs her here, that Jack needs her. He needs some distraction from his injured father.

“I‘ve got something for you, kid“, (Y/n) says with excitement in her voice. Reaching underneath her poncho, she shows Jack a carrot as well as a scarf. “Stole this one from Pearson, and the scarf from Dutch. This is our little secret, Jack“, she explains with a wide smile. “And I borrowed uncle Arthurs hat!“ Jack claps his hands happily as (Y/n) places the hat on top of his messy hair.

“Let‘s build a snowman, auntie“, Jack exclaims and starts rolling a snowball until it’s big enough. With his aunts help, he places two other snowballs on top. (Y/n) lifts the boy, so that Jack can give the snowman a face with Pearson’s carrot as well as a few stones. They place Dutch’s scarf around its neck and Arthur’s hat on top of its head. “He looks like one of us!“

As they continue to finalize their outlaw snowman with stones and sticks, Javier returns from patrol on his horse. He is halfway frozen to death, but the sight of his beloved (Y/n) warms his heart. With a smile on his lips, Javier takes care of Boaz, removing saddle and bridle. His back is facing the camp, so he doesn‘t notice the snowball fight between most of the girls. Tilly started it, hitting the back of (Y/n)’s head. The snowball fight quickly escalates. Jack loves every second of it, forgetting about his sad mother and injured father.

A scream reaches Javier’s ears. His worry for the whole camp causes him to turn around. Unfortunately, a snowball hits him right in the face. His eyes stay closed for a few seconds, until he wipes away the cold snow, staring right at (Y/n). She presses her lips together in a line. Then she starts laughing and runs away. Without thinking twice, Javier follows her and quickly catches up with her. Around the corner of a hut, he grabs (Y/n) by the waist and presses her against the wall.

“Got you, querida“, Javier whispers against her ear. He places a quick kiss to her cheek, soft giggles leave her mouth. One of his gloved hands caresses the spot on her cheek he just kissed. Their eyes meet and Javier can feel his whole body warm up. “Did you get in trouble whilst I was gone?“ (Y/n) shakes her head with a laugh and leans forward to meet Javier’s cold lips. Although she is the one pressed against the back of the hut, (Y/n) deepens the kiss and places her hands on Javier’s neck. The outlaw groans. (beloved)

“One second, querida“, Javier mumbles into the kiss and, reluctantly, takes a step backwards. He moves his left hand to his mouth, removing his glove with his teeth. Javier takes her in, noticing one of his ponchos on her. A grin forms on his lips as he touches the soft material. Then his cold fingers move to her cheek before his lips return to hers. Javier presses himself as close as possible against his love, letting his gloveless hand move from (Y/n)’s cheek to the poncho she stole from him and underneath her jacket. A gasp leaves (Y/n)’s lips, therefor Javier bites her lower lip.

“It‘s too cold, Javi“, (Y/n) whimpers as Javier’s cold fingers caress her naked skin. Her whole body starts to shiver, and she leans her head against the wall, breaking their kiss. Javier takes his chance and starts kissing her neck.

“I can think of a few things to keep you warm, bonita“, Javier says in a flirty tone, winking at (Y/n) with a wide smile. His lips meet hers once again, but their make out session gets interrupted by someone calling for (Y/n). Both sigh in disappointment, eventually part and take a look around the corner. (Y/n) winces as she lays eyes on Dutch, Arthur and Pearson, all reunited with the stuff she stole. Arthur kneels in front of Jack who is pointing directly at Javier and (Y/n). (beautiful)

“What have you done?“, Javier asks as he meets Dutch’s disappointed eyes. The three outlaws make their way towards the couple. The snow scrunches underneath their heavy boots. (Y/n) laughs full of distress, takes Javier’s hand and drags him away. “What have you done, querida?“

After running through the whole camp and causing some chaos, they finally hide behind the makeshift stables. They can see their breath in the cold air. “I might have stolen a few things for Jacks outlaw snowman“, (Y/n) admits while breathing heavily. She leans against Javier, who has an arm wrapped around her waist. He places a kiss on her forehead.

“You have no idea how much I love you. Tú eres perfecto, bonita!“, Javier confesses and presses (Y/n) closer to his chest. Her arms wrap around him, and she hides her face in his poncho. (You are perfect, beautiful!)

“Te amo, Javi!“, (Y/n) breathes with the sweetest accent Javier ever heard. (I love you, Javi!)

[12timetraveler]

One of my friends shared this picrew and I just had to do it.

Tag a few friends who you want to see do this picrew too.

It's too damn cute.

Imma tag @ttuesday @daily-escuella @dweebpheles @kitty-the-outlaw and anyone who wants to do it. (no pressure)