Trans activist Jamison Green's passport photos before and after HRT. Left he's age 32 (1980) Right age 41 (1989) after being on testosterone for one year (x)
updated the link to his autobiography because it was broken! here's some more pictures of him (first is mid 90s, second 2013 and last 2024)
there's an interview with him from 2017 along with some information about his life and activism. and he was interviewed on a podcast here. he's not super well known but has been a really important trans activist for decades
to be clear you are fifteen thousand generations removed from the invention of stone tools. not from the end of stone tools. modern humans are still using stone tools.
hey wait! i know you! we used to be chained next to each other in the cave! wow, so good to see you, how are ya? man. remember how we used to talk about the shadows on the wall together. gosh that was a long time ago. but hey. sure is one heck of a sun out here, right? it's good to see you.
i wrote this post with happy tears in my eyes sitting in a parking lot after getting coffee for 3 hours with someone i did youth shakespeare with when we were teenagers and hadn't seen in 15 years, in which time we both transitioned, got into nerd shit, found a job that feels good, found people to spend our gay little lives with, and coincidentally moved to the same city. this is exactly how it felt. never ever ever kill yourself
idk if anyone else has seen the surge of memes making fun of cave divers recently. there was a comment on one that was like "cave divers with 4 kids, 2 degrees, a loving wife and a huge house when they learn that Satan's Sphincter has a 0% survival rate" it had me crying laughing
You'd think "oh, well they're rich dipshits with no training who pulled a Stockton Rush, IE: did something everyone told them not to and then died" but nope, 90% of cave diving stories are like "Johnny Wetsuit had 5000 hours diving experience, a doctorate in Cave Diveology from the most prestigious university in the world, was trained to swim by literal navy seals, was part dolphin and had the power of echo-location, God himself contacted him to let him know the conditions in Drowning Idiot Cave were going to be perfectly safe for cave diving, so he went Cave Diving, made one tiny mistake, and then he got stuck and drowned to death."
My brother used to do SCUBA stuff and apparently there's spots in places like Lake Tahoe where there's just bodies that haven't been recovered because the people that could go and get them know better than to go diving in the parts of the lake where the bodies are.
I feel like the ‘Satan’s Asshole Cave’ meme is a bit of a misnomer though because half of these places are named. Nutty Putty. Darby Canyon. Wookey Hole.
It’s more like; Loopty Doopty Cavern, where 18 out of 25 known explorers had to have their bodies dragged out over excruciating 28 hour long recovery missions
You've grown up with the gang, seeing them as your family rather than just companions. In 1895, Dutch brings in a new member, a man named Javier Escuella, who speaks little English.
You're determined to help him learn, but somewhere along the way, you realise that some things are simply universal...
content warning: f reader, no smut, all fluff, pre canon, failed gcse spanish so i'm google translating it, javier adores you, racism (tw: bill), happy endings all round
word count: 5.0k
You remember the day you met Javier Escuella like it was yesterday.
It was the Summer of 1895. The gang was milling about in your makeshift camp, doing chores or enjoying the pleasant weather. Autumn was approaching and the gang was enjoying the last weeks of sunshine, before it turned cold and grey.
Dutch had been gone for a few hours on a reconnaissance, scoping out an abandoned building which was said to be a popular spot for ashamed upperclassmen to meet working girls.
He’d been gone longer than the group had expected, and Hosea had begun to worry. You sat by his side playing dominos, trying to quell his concerns with gentle reassurances.
When Dutch returned, the gang and you were beyond relieved. But he hadn't returned empty handed. Information, some food…
And a stranger in tow.
He was young, no older than twenty one from what you could tell. Covered head to toe in dirt and dressed in ratty clothes, his hair long and unwashed.
He looked around with cautious eyes at the other members of your group, before they finally landed on you.
You thought his eyes were beautiful. A deep brown, smooth and golden like whiskey in the light of the setting sun. He stared at you for a moment, before looking at the floor.
“Everyone, I would like you all to meet Mr Javier Escuella!” Dutch announced, “He’ll be joining us, from now on. Quite the thief, but I reckon we can teach him more.”
Javier Escuella.
His name was dazzling to you, foreign and melodic, especially when spoken in his own voice when he corrected Dutch’s pronunciation.
As other members of the group approached him, such as Arthur and John, introducing themselves and asking questions. Javier answered with ‘yes’s and ‘no’s, growing embarrassed when they asked him harder questions.
It became obvious to you all that Javier did not speak much English, and Hosea made everyone scarce as he calmly took him over to get some stew, allowing the man some peace from the rather hectic band of criminals.
You came to stop by Dutch’s side as Hosea sits Javier at one of the tables.
“Where did you find him?”
“Oh, it's a funny story, my dear.” He chuckles.
You thought as much, listening to Dutch relay the events of their introduction. Your eyes did not leave Javier’s face.
Who is this unusual man?
That had been a few weeks ago now, and Javier had become a great asset to the gang.
He is skilled with a knife, a nimble fighter and a better thief than Dutch gave him credit for. His past remained unknown to you, but you could tell the gods had not dealt him the best cards.
Nevertheless, he's a tough son of a bitch.
Just by standing at his side during jobs, you could tell he is fiercely intelligent, brave, and… well, handsome… but no one needed to know the last part. That’s your secret.
You wanted to truly get to know him, as a friend of course. The only issue to that being the language barrier.
He would sit with Dutch sometimes and listen to him when he read, his focus apt as he tried to learn longer words in the language.
But other than that, he kept mainly to himself.
Javier chose to keep to the outskirts of the group, observing the world in stoic silence. On days where you stood close enough to him, you could hear him humming as he sharpened his knife. But he would stop whenever anyone came close.
He reminded you of a beaten dog in a new home; unsure and distant, growing braver as the days go by. You hoped he would come to think of the gang as a family, as you had.
Only time would tell.
The first time you really interacted with him was one cold night around the campfire.
Everyone is enjoying Pearson’s stew and a few drinks. Uncle plays his banjo, Sean sings merrily, even Arthur and John were in high spirits as they twirl Tilly around in a silly dance that makes everyone laugh and applaud.
What a merry band of fools you run with.
But the mood sours when a drunken Bill Williamson decides to try his hardest to piss everyone off.
“I don’t see why we don't just break in and take it.” Bill grouses, complaining about a robbery Hosea was planning.
Hosea presses his lips together, looking up from his book to stare at the drunken buffoon.
“Because, Mr Williamson, the man who resides there may be alone and old, but he’s known statewide for his experience with weaponry.” Hosea sighs through his nose, “‘Breaking in’ without a plan will surely land us all with bullets where we don't want them. As I have explained thrice.”
Bill scoffs, taking a swig from his bottle.
“Please. Just get the girl there to lift her skirt and get the old coon distracted.” Bill says, nodding at you, “I reckon no man could pass up the chance at a go at her.”
“That’s enough of that.” Hosea warns, voice cold and dangerous.
“What? It ain’t like we’re above using distractions, and it would be a way for her to finally earn her keep.” Bill leans closer to you, running a finger along the bare skin of your arm, “Easier to do it laying on your back, eh, Y/N-?”
You squirm away, and the group falls silent at his words and the clear panic on your face.From across the campfire, Javier suddenly stands up.
“¡Cállate, pendejo!” He snaps, pointing his finger at Bill.
Bill’s jaw drops, blinking at the man before he too stands. Arthur and the Callender brothers also seem to sober up, looking between the two angry men to see if they will need to break up an upcoming fight. Hosea sighs, tiredly.
“The fuck did you say, you slimy brown fuck?!” Bill barks with a sneer.
“!Eres asqueroso, déjala sola! Borracho desperdicio de espacio...” Javier bites back, looking the other man up and down with clear disgust.
“Fuck’s he saying?!”
“He’s telling you to be quiet, and to leave Y/N alone.” Hosea bites, glaring at Bill.
Bill splutters, looking around the group. Upon realising he has no allies in this fight, he storms off, beer bottle in hand.
An awkward, heated silence is left in his wake.
Arthur sighs, patting your shoulder soothingly before he requests another song from Uncle. The rest of the gang goes back to their previous glee the second the music starts up again, argument forgotten.
You look over at your saviour. Javier murmurs something else venomous at Bill’s retreating form, before he sits back down.
He chooses a seat much closer to you than before, which you internally smile at.
His eyes scan the gang, before landing on you a few feet away. He frowns, avoiding your eyes.
“Lo siento, señorita.” He murmurs, scratching his chin with a remorseful expression.
Confused, you look to Hosea for an explanation. The older outlaw regards Javier, before offering you a smile, “He’s apologising, dear. Probably for getting angry.”
“Oh!” You turn back, “It’s okay, Javier. No lo siento, there’s nothing to apologise for. What’s thank you?” You whisper the last part to Hosea.
“Gracias.” Hosea whispers back.
“Gracias, Javier.”
Javier chuckles, offering you a smile, “De nada, princesa.”
The evening continues without a hitch, sans Dutch giving Bill a stern talking to for his vile words towards you.
You try not to notice Javier occasionally looking over at you, but everytime you feel him glance, you have to fight a giddy smile.
Thank god for the campfire hiding your blush.
It’s been a good few months now, since you met the Mexican freedom fighter.
He’s been nothing but respectful to you, greeting you when he passes and keeping a watchful eye whenever Bill has a few too many.
You cannot help but find yourself drawn to Javier, his good looks and his underlying fire luring you in like a moth to a flame.
Others have noticed, namely Hosea, the observant gossip he is.
You have been trying your hardest to keep your growing feelings a secret. But everytime you bring Javier a cup of coffee in the mornings, or when you pay special attention when sewing his shirts, or how you light up when he arrives unscathed from a job, you can see Hosea giving you a knowing grin, wiggling his eyebrows as you blush.
While you enjoy what time you manage to spend with Javier, the language barrier is creating issues for you.
Javier seems to understand English well enough, being able to translate words in his head impressively well. But he’s quiet, and lacks confidence in attempting to speak English for fear of talking nonsensically.
Today is one of those days where he sits in silence, alone at the edge of camp.
He’s frowning down at one of Dutch’s books as he mumbles the words to himself, trying and failing to pronounce them properly.
You watch him from the sidelines as you enjoy your morning coffee, frowning when he huffs and closes the book. The defeat on his face is heartbreaking, and you put down your tin cup to go over to him.
Maybe you can help him with learning. It's the least you can do, for sure.
“Hola, Javier.” You greet, joining his side with an easy smile. Hosea had been kind enough to teach you greetings, which you are appreciative of.
Javier startles, looking up at you and cringing, wondering how much of his failure you had been witness to, “Hola, señorita.”
“I see you’re trying to learn more English.” You muse, keeping your voice light to not make him think you are making fun of him, “Say, would you like me to help you learn the basics?”
Javier blinks up at you, confused by the quick words you threw at him. You internally chastise yourself for speaking so fast, your nerves getting to you.
But Javier translates in his head, and a small smile replaces the somber look on his face.
“Ah… sí, por favor.” He licks his lips, thinking, “Eh, please.”
Internally celebrating the small victory, you sit down beside him.
He offers you the book, and you look over the page he was attempting to learn from. It seems to be an Evelyn Miller read, complicated words typed in a small font. You sigh slightly, this book has words that even you cannot pronounce, no wonder Javier was struggling.
Way to be empathetic, Mr Van Der Linde.
You close the book, giving Javier an encouraging smile while you put the book away, “Let’s try something easier.”
Javier nods, turning his body to face you. Your heart flutters at having his undivided attention, but you ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.
“Alright, I know you know some of the easier words, like ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’.”
“Hello.” Javier parrots, giving you a little wave.
Oh he’s adorable. When he’s not stabbing people, that is.
“That’s the one.” You chuckle, “How about we start with… the weather! “The weather is fine”, what do you think about that?”
Javier stares at you blankly. Perhaps he didn't understand. You gesture to the sky, and put your thumbs up, “The weather is fine.”
“Oh ¿El clima? Si, está bien.” Javier nods, looking up at the clouds.
“El clima está bien.” You say carefully, “The weather is fine.”
“...The weather… is fine.” Javier mimics, the words clunky in his mouth but he nods determinedly, “The weather is fine.”
“Well done.” You smile, “That is the response. I say, ‘how’s the weather?’ You say…”
“... uh- the weather is fine?” He tries, his pronunciation improving already.
“Sí!” You grin, patting his shoulder. Javier nods, murmuring the sentence to himself again before he looks at you.
You look around, trying to find another sentence to teach him, when he stops you.
“You, go.” Javier says, “You.”
“I go?” You ask, confused “I leave?”
“No.” He chuckles, “El clima está bien, en español.”
“You want to teach me Spanish?” You tilt your head, and Javier mimics it, giving you a cheeky grin.
“Sí, we learn.” He laughs, pointing between you two with a cheeky grin.
Across the way, Hosea and Dutch watch the interaction, entertained and smiling as they murmur to one another.
You chuckle, “Okay, how do I ask?”
Javier clears his throat, “¿Cómo está el clima?”
“¿Cómo está el clima?” You try, and Javier nods vigorously.
“El clima está bien.” He responds. “The weather is fine.”
“Ok.” You grin, ”How is the weather, again?”
“The weather is fine. ¿Cómo está el clima?”
“El clima está bien.” You say confidently, rewarded by Javier's smile.
You’re practically giddy, happy the lesson is going so well. Javier joins you in smiling, watching your face with a soft look.
Across the camp, Dutch and Hosea exchange knowing smiles.
While you reiterate the new Spanish you learned, Uncle stumbles past, uttering mornings to you both. You nudge Javier, who swallows before clearing his throat.
“The weather, is fine.” Javier says sternly.
Uncle blinks at him, before looking up, “That it is, fella, that it is.”
You clap Javier’s first lesson. Javier doesn't bother to hide his proud smile.
Javier was proving to be a better student than you were expecting.
Hosea had given you a book on nature and foraging after you had complained to him about Dutch’s choice of learning material.
“Evelyn Miller? That man is a sadist.” Hosea grumbled to you, “Dutch, do you not want him to learn?!”
It had been funny watching the two of the gang's leaders argue like an old married couple.
Every day, you and Javier would learn over coffee. The book happened to be fantastic for teaching your new friend all kinds of words and how to string sentences.
Now, Javier could easily hold a conversation in English with most members of the gang.
After a particularly bad day, one where Javier had had to go on a job with Bill, you taught him some swears as well.
“Pendejo… you son of a bitch!” Javier had yelled clunkily. It had clearly been worth the fistfight between them, based on Javier’s knowing smile thrown your way after Bill was dragged away.
You’re the proudest teacher.
But the world was not limited to your merry band of outlaws. The gang members were often very patient with Javier, letting him stumble and ignoring mistakes in his grammar to not embarrass him (or receive a knife to the face)
So you decided it was time for some field practise.
On a cold day in Winter, the two of you stand in front of a saloon in the city, people watching while you casually practise conversation.
The topic of today was the basics of pleasantries and being nice. Hosea had asked you to teach Javier how to smooth talk, and you had decided that today he would practise his charm on the English speakers of Blackwater.
You hoped to find an individual in need of a knight in shining armour, so Javier could help them and practise on a new soul.
An older woman across the way had her arms full of shopping bags, frowning as she tried to lift them into her wagon, with little success.
Perfect.
“She’s the one.” You point her out to Javier, who nods, “Now, ‘it would be my pleasure’, try it.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He grits out, rolling his eyes, “What a lie. I take no pleasure in helping these people.”
You giggle, nudging him, “Shut up, you’re a sweetheart really.”
Javier waves you off, before heading over to the struggling woman. He stands behind her awkwardly for a moment, before clearing his throat.
“Could I assist you, miss.” He asks, causing the woman to turn around and look at him.
“Oh!” The woman smiles, sighing in relief, “If you wouldn't mind, sir.”
“It would be my pleasure.” Javier takes the womans bags, lifting them effortlessly up to her wagon. He even offers her his hand, helping her up to sit at the drivers seat.
She thanks him and bids him a good day, and he tips his hat to her.
You curtsy at him as he approaches, “Look at you. A regular American gentleman.”
“You know better than that, princesa.” Javier chuckles, reaching into his pocket and showing you the woman's bracelet, masterfully stolen while he helped her onto the wagon.
“Javier Escuella, what will I do with you?” You laugh, swatting his shoulder.
He catches your hand carefully, before turning your wrist around and clasping the bracelet around it. His fingers are warm to the touch, comforting in the cold weather. With the bracelet attached, he nods his head proudly, holding on to your wrist for a moment longer before spelling back.
You blush, looking down at sparkling jewellery, stolen for you by the man of your dreams.
Lord have mercy.
Trying to avoid Javier’s eyes, you murmur out, “Gracias, Javier.”
He smiles down at you, making your heart race faster. Damn this perfect man.
“Come have a drink with me?” You request, pointing to the saloon, “Celebrate your progress?"
Javier straightens his back, offering you his arm like the perfect gentleman, “It would be my pleasure.”
The two of you enter the saloon, grabbing a couple of beers before sitting at a small table.
Due to the earlier hour, it’s relatively quiet, sans for the soft hum of conversation and gentle music.
The man plays the piano in the corner, a simple tune but you can't help but notice how aptly Javier watches him play, a longing expression on his face.
“Javier? Are you ok?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm.
He startles, like he was lost in thought, before clearing his throat.
“Si, señorita.” Javier nods, though he remains somber, “I used to… uh, you know, música, yes?”
“Music, that’s right. He’s playing the piano.” You look at the pianist, “You used to play piano?”
“No, no. Guitarra.” Javier sighs, miming plucking a guitar. He looks downcast, “A long time ago.”
You frown sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe one day you can show me, música y guitarra.” You smile, knowing you definitely did not make a proper sentence. Javier chuckles, and returns your smile in earnest.
“Sí, one day.” He sighs wistfully, “No puedo esperar, señorita. I can not wait.”
Neither can you.
After that day, you were intent on finding a guitar for Javier.
You don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he often watches Uncle when he plays his banjo. A deep sadness permeates from his being, a longing that holds grief as well.
His music was another thing he lost fleeing his country. You know more of his backstory from his brief stories about Mexico, his village, and his family. It breaks your heart to think about what he has lost.
You can give him his music back. And dammit, nothing will stop you.
After a job, you find yourself travelling across the grizzlies alongside Arthur, once again thinking about the man waiting for you at camp.
Well, not waiting for you. Simply waiting.
Yours and Arthur's horses are exhausted, and you’re relieved when you come across a small camp.
The residents, an Italian couple, welcome you, letting you share their campfire and even offering you coffee.
They have a bunch of items that they show you, offering to sell them to help them start a new life in America. You look over the collection, unable to hold back the gasp when you see a worn, dusty guitar amongst the items.
The others look at you, curious. Upon seeing the guitar, the man smiles warmly, “You want?”
“I would, please!” You go to your saddlebags, searching for your coin purse.
“You would?” Arthur asks, looking between you and the guitar, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
You wave him off, “How much?”
“Erm, fifty cents, miss.”
“Here you go.” You hand him the coin.
Arthur regards the interaction with confusion, as the man hands you the guitar. You cannot help the smile on your face, imagining Javier’s reaction.
When the two of you set off, bidding the couple goodbyes, you sit on your mare with the guitar strapped to your back, and Arthur laughs under his breath.
“So, what was that about?” He asks, “Feeling musical? Are you and Uncle starting a band?”
Laughing, you shake your head, “Nah. Someone just promised to play me a song.”
When the two of you arrived in camp, you looked around for Javier, holding the guitar rather awkwardly.
The others looked at it questioningly, but you paid them no mind.
Javier is on guard duty, looking bored as he fiddled with his rifle. You felt nerves as you approached, second guessing yourself as the silence felt heavy around you.
“Javier?” You called as you stood a few feet away, not wanting to startle him.
He turns around, smiling when he spots you. His eyes widen when he sees the instrument in your hands.
You clear your throat, holding it out to him awkwardly, “This is for you.”
Javier gasps, placing his rifle down as he approaches, looking between you and the guitar.
“Me?” He asks quietly, like he can’t believe it.
“You.” You giggle, handing it to him. He takes it, looking down at the instrument.
“Princesa… this is…” Javier trails off, dragging his fingers over the strings, “Muy amable… muchas gracias, señorita!”
“I only know what a couple of those words mean, so you’re welcome, Javier.” You chuckle, beaming as you watch Javier marvel over the old guitar as if it were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
He looks back up at you, standing with the guitar in hand, seemingly thinking something through.
You’re surprised when he wraps an arm around you, tucking you under his chin as he murmurs another, “Gracias, princesa.”
You hug him back, wrapped in his warmth and comforting smell. Is this the happiest you’ve ever been? Perhaps.
After a moment, you’re sure you feel him press his lips to the crown of your head, before he steps back, clearing his throat.
“I should… go back, to guarding.” He says, holding the guitar close to his chest.
“Of course!” You take a step back, smiling at him, “I'll see you at dinner.”
“I will play for you.” Javier promises, beaming.
You turn and walk away. You can feel his eyes on you as you walk, and you pray you don’t step on a rock and make a fool of yourself. You’re so giddy you feel like this is your first time walking.
Back at camp, you take a sharp breath to calm your racing heart Hosea grins broadly at you.
“Smooth.” He laughs, coming to your side.
“Shut up, old man.” You berate with a smile, elbowing him.
At dinner, Javier joins your side at the campfire, tuning the guitar with nimble fingers. When he was happy, he turned to you, playing a simple tune which made you smile.
That night you fell asleep to the sound of Javier’s singing across camp, and you dreamt of his embrace.
The morning after, Javier Escuella awkwardly walks through camp, searching out Hosea Matthews for advice.
Finding him sitting at one of the tables, Javier clears his throat, hoping to gain the attention of the older man without much embarrassment.
“Señor Matthews?”
Hosea turns around, offering Javier a welcoming smile, “Javier, how are you?”
“I am well, thank you.”
“And how's the weather?”
Javier chuckles, “The weather is fine.”
“You're really coming along with your English.” Hosea muses proudly, “Our dear Y/N seems to be really helping you, huh?”
“Ah, sí, yes.” Javier smiles, attempting to hide his blush underneath the brim of his hat.
But Hosea notices. He always does.
“Pero…I need to learn more.” Javier continues, taking a seat beside Hosea at the table, “Some words that I want to say to her, that I cannot have her teach me. You understand, yes?”
“I do.” Hosea smiles, all knowing “What specific words might I ask?”
“Ah, so many.” Javier sighs, eyes soft as he thinks about you, “She… how do I say it, es muy bonita, si? Very beautiful. Pero hay más, ella es fuerte. Desde que la conocí siento que la vida vuelve a tener sentido. Ella me hace feliz-”
At Hosea’s blank expression, Javier releases a frustrated sigh, standing to pace. He scratches his head, sending Hosea an apologetic look.
“Gah, lo siento, señor. I… ask Y/N, it takes a while to teach me. She says I ramble.”
“I get the gist, Mr Escuella.” Hosea chuckles, shrugging “You’re sweet on her.”
“The sweetest.” Javier murmurs, causing the older man to bark out another laugh.
“Well, it certainly seems there's a lot for you to say.” Hosea muses, running a hand over his face, “Perhaps you shouldn't tell her, but show her.”
“Cómo? How do I show her?”
“I can think of a few ways.”
Javier takes a seat beside Hosea again, leaning forward to listen to the man as he begins detailing ways he could get his point across.
You eye them suspiciously from across camp, wondering what they could possibly be talking about so seriously.
As the sun sets on another day, you stand brushing your horse absentmindedly.
You hate to admit it, but you’re waiting impatiently for Javier to be done with guard duty, so the two of you can sit by the campfire as he plays his guitar for you.
It has become a part of your daily routine, and has begun your favourite part of the day. No competition.
Someone clears their throat behind you, startling you from your thoughts.
Javier stands behind you. He looks bashful, a look you remember from when he first joined the gang. But there is a fierce determination on his face that you recognise.
“Princesa.” Javier greets, offering you a smile despite his obvious nerves.
“Mr Escuella.”
“Javier, por favor. Never Mr Escuella to you.” He says with a smile.
“Lo siento, Javier.” You chuckle, “What’s wrong?”
Javier clears his throat, “Nothing is wrong. In fact, everything is… good.”
He goes silent, looking down at the dirt below as he thinks to himself. Whatever he is thinking about, obviously has him stumped.
You wait, confused but never impatient. Not with him.
“I…” Javier sighs, shaking his head, “Gah, maldice esta idioma.”
You huff out a laugh, “Idioma? If you’re calling me an idiot, I feel I should be offended.”
“Idiot? No! No, no, no. You’re not señor Williamson.” Javier jokes, taking a step closer to you, “I would never say a bad word about you.”
Blushing, you duck your head. Javier reaches out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
When you look up at him, he seems sad.
“You… I wish I knew more.” He sighs, looking at his feet, “If I could speak to you en español, I would have more words to speak. ¿Comprendes?.”
He looks up at you to see if you understand, and you nod encouragingly.
“I talked to Señor Matthews, and he gave me advice that was… eh, muy útil. Useful.”
“What did he say?” You ask.
“That words are not the only way to show how I feel. My actions can speak for me, my heart can speak for me.”
Javier takes your hand, rubbing your thumb.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out your favourite flower, slightly bent out of shape by his pocket.
“Eh…” Javier laughs at the drooping flower, shrugging, “I know they are your favourite.”
“Oh, Javier.” You take the flower, while intertwining your fingers with his other hand, “Thank you- muchas gracias.”
“De nada, cariño.” He cups your face with his hand, before nodding to the flower, “May I put it in your hair?”
You nod, and he takes it from you, gently tilting your head sideways so he can place the flower behind your ear, securing it. His finger dances along your jaw once he is satisfied.
Searching your eyes, he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours.
You cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his cheek, to his moustache. Javier purrs at the feeling, kissing the pad of your thumb.
“Kiss me?” You request, the words escaping you like a plea.
Javier smiles widely, “It would be my pleasure.”
He presses his lips to yours gently, a featherlight touch that makes you swoon. They’re softer than you would have thought from a scary outlaw, and warm, branding you with his affection.
You could happily die right here right now, with Javier Escuella kissing you with all the gentleness neither of you truly deserve.
Javier breaks the kiss to look at you once again, chuckling happily to himself.
“Llevo meses queriendo besarte.” Javier sighs, “Your lips… more perfect than I imagined.”
“Have you imagined my lips often?” You tease.
“Every day since I first saw you.”
The confession makes you gasp, surprised that he has desired you for so long.
Javier blushes, looking away, “When Dutch told me he had a gang, I was expecting a bunch of hair brutes. A whole group of Bill Williamsons.”
You both laugh.
“But then, I saw you.” He sighs, wistfully, “It was the first time I was glad to be in America. This country felt so lifeless before you.
“Oh Javier.” You smile, “I feel the same.”
“Mi corazón.” Javier mutters, smiling down at you, “Te amo.”
“Te amo?” You ask, marvelling over the two words, and Javier nods pressing his forehead against yours.
“I love you.”
If those aren't the prettiest words ever, in any language.
“I love you too, Javier.” You sigh, pulling him in for another kiss, “Te amo.”
AN / Javier internally screaming “do you know how smart I am in Spanish??”, I know babygirl was frustrated when he first came over to America
For @ourkokolocoo thank u for requesting some Javier! I'm definitely going to write more for him <3
dededos
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