- JAVIER ESCUELLA -
‘I’m gonna love you with my hands tied!’
[Summary] - Chasing the description of a stagecoach robbing outlaw, but your culprit is one with shared history.
[Tags] - Javier X reader, GN Reader, SFW but could be read as a bit suggestive
[W/C] - 1272.
You slide off your horse, firm hand on the loops of rope. You begin to saunter closer to the sucker, pulling and collecting the rope slowly as you go, dragging the mans body closer by his ankle. The fabric of his clothes scrape against the forest floor, and he groans, covering his eyes with his hands to protect himself from the sun and kicked up dirt. You whistle lowly when you reach him.
“Well, what have we here?” You look down at the cowboy sprawled out in the dirt in front of you, pressing the toe of your right shoe onto his thigh. He hisses through his teeth.
“I didn’t do anything I swear,” he drawls, a hand lifted out in front of him, palm facing you. You can see slivers of his face between his fingers.
“Save the story for the sheriff,” you lean to one side, hand grasping the rope resting on your hip as you try to peer around his hand.
“C’mon now,” his voice is raspy and deep, “you wouldn’t damn an innocent man right?” He pauses for a moment, then whirls onto his side suddenly, his other hand appearing from behind his back. He points his revolver at your nose, tufts of hair lose and messy frame and shadow his face. You frown, throwing your hand out and yanking the revolver by the barrel from his fingers. He was bluffing like a cornered animal. You knew he had long run out of ammo during your chase.
“Don’t play games.” You run your fingers over the gun. Its barrel is long, silver and slender, its design incredibly distinctive. Most notable is the swirling engravings. Twisting and stretching across the revolver like vines. Its weight and feel felt familiar, as did its appearance, tugging at buried memories. You shove the gun into one of your empty holsters, taking your boot of his thigh and stomping it next to his waist. You bend your face down, examining his face properly for the first time. He slowly raises his head to look at you, his jaw clenching. The sun illuminates his face and all his features. His eyebrows furrow as something comes over his face. A slit runs through the middle of his right brow, his eyes a deep brown. They lock on to you through long lashes, pupils dilating. His face as a whole is creased with wrinkles and scars, a particularly noticeable one slashed across his nose and another over his cheekbone, almost hidden behind strands of long brown hair. His mouth widens for a moment and he takes a quick breath in. Recognition washes through your body like cold water.
“Javier,” his name tumbles out of your lips, shock subsiding to frantic anger, “what the hell do you think your doing stirring up trouble ‘round these parts!” You bark at him. Once he recovers from the initial surprise, a brazen smile tugs at his lips.
“Mi vida, so good to see you.” Your mouth snaps shut and you stare, face heating up. What the hell was he doing here? You just wanted to make a quick pile of cash, but could you really turn him in? Your losing power and he knows it if that cocky look on his face is anything to go by.
“Its been a while right?” He plants his hands onto the ground behind him and tries to push himself up.
“Ah-ah” you put the heel of your shoe onto his chest, stopping his movement, “don’t move, Escuella.” He looks up at you through half lidded eyes, rolling his head back.
“Escuella - the last name now thats just cruel. What did I do to get into the dog house huh?” He tuts, wrapping his hand gently around your ankle, looking at your boot on his chest.
“You’d never hurt me, hm?” He squeezes gently. You give the lasso on his leg a warning tug.
“Wouldn’t I? from where I’m standing it looks like I’m gonna hog tie you, and haul your sorry ass to town, the nerve of you!”
“Baby please,” he peers into you, “you know me, you can’t leave me to the wolves,” he insists. You bite your lip, digging your nails into the rope. He tilts his head at you, the sun warming his skin with a rich glow. You need to even the scales a little bit. You drop your foot off his chest, instead leaning over him completely, your face’s inches away. You feel his breath on your skin and try not to show weakness. He doesn’t falter, his eyes flicking over you.
“This is an important decision Escuella, I gotta know the facts before I even consider letting you run,”
“Im an open book, mi vida, you wanna know? Just ask.” You gesture for his hands. He smirks as he presses his wrists together.
“Open book, or just telling me what I wanna hear,” you loop the rope around his wrists then hoist him up. He tuts again.
“Come on, if i’m letting you tie me up, why would I bother lying. Im completely at your mercy,” he follows and places himself in the centre of your gaze when you try to turn away.
“Start speaking.” You walk him to your draft horse. You pull yourself up with ease, turning round to help haul him up ungracefully. His legs press firmly against your own, and his chin grazes your shoulder every so often as your horse begins an active walk.
“Who’s the liar who sent you after me in the first place hm?” He hums in a low tone, his lips intimately close to your ear.
“Does it matter? Passed by some folks, say you just robbed their stagecoach, gonna pay me a pretty price when I serve you to them,” you tease dryly.
“Whats the fuss, I didn’t hurt anybody,” he rests his chin on your shoulder, “besides, they had more than enough for themselves, I’m just trying to provide for the people I care about, like always,” he purrs, “You’re the one who’s strung me up like prey, threatenin’ to turn me in, they’d hang me you know. But me? I didn’t hurt nobody,” he argues playfully, and you can feel the vibrations from his speech on the skin of your shoulder. His knuckles graze against the small of your back, his hands still bound together in front of him. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt. You take a deep breath, he’s driving you up the wall. You slow your horse to a stop, coming to a clearing at the shore of an expansive river.
“Get off,” you say cooly. Slowly he draws his chin away from the crook in your neck.
“Are we here to swim? Just like the old days ah?” He swings his leg off and slides down. He stares up at you.
“Or is this where you will make me your quarry,” he says, voice deepening. You pull out your hunting knife, familiar swirls decorate its handle. You stare back at him, clenching the handle in your fist. In a swift moment you hurl it, and it lands firmly standing in the damp sand.
“You owe me.” You declare, taking his gun from your holster and dropping it in his tied hands. He holsters it quickly, then drops to a crouch, gingerly recovering your blade from the sand and freeing himself. He stands, slowly putting the blade away, but keeping his eyes on you. He steps closer and places a hand on your thigh. He presses a long, soft kiss to your knee.
“I wont forget it, mi vida.”
[A/N] - first post of actual writing… i hope you liked it! P.s the title is a Gaga reference haha
