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twola · 2 months

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Hiya! Lemme start of by saying, I’m a HUGE fan of you and your commitment to bringing our sad cowboy infinite orgasms. Out here doing the lords work. I was just wondering, if you’re still doing requests, could we get some cock warming? Idk why the idea of that makes me so feral. I just need it. Do what you wish with it, should it strike your muse. I do prefer HH Arthur… 👀. I jus love your writing and hope you are doing well!

Snowbound

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“I d-don’t know w-why you thought this was good idea.”

A gruff snort is your response, and you can do nothing more than bury your wind-chapped face into the back of his heavy coat, your arms around his waist as the horse beneath you struggles through the snowdrift. The scarf wrapped around your head barely takes the edge off the biting chill.

Follow up on a lead about some abandoned riches in the mountains, it couldn’t still be snowing up there, he said. So goddamn sure of himself.

“Th-this is de-decidedly the m-most unromantic t-thing ever, Arthur M-Morgan.” Your muffled voice cracks against the fabric of his coat.

“Alrigh’, alright. Arthur huffs, his breath visible in the cold air, “There’s a place round the other side of the lake we can get outta the wind.”

An icy gust blows across the frozen Barrow Lagoon and you squeal miserably as you tuck yourself in behind Arthur once again. He curses as he leads the horse over to that abandoned cabin.

The mare slogs around the lagoon’s shoreline, finally reaching the cabin as Arthur extends his arm to help you slide off from her rump. He follows, landing heavily in the snow. You slowly make your way into the cabin as Arthur leads his horse to a covered area on the side of the small abode.

By the time he has the horse settled, you’ve started a small fire in the cast iron stove, long abandoned. You stand in front of it, rubbing your hands furiously.

“I’m so c-cold…” you whine, your voice cracking as you huddle into yourself. This abandoned cabin on the lake’s shore did little to stave off the cold outside.

He shrugs the coat off and wraps it around your shoulders; it dwarves you as you frown, looking up at him.

“Arthur -“ You scold, trying to bat off the coat.

He frowns, “C’mon, sweetheart. You ain’t got enough meat on your bones to keep warm, ‘m fine.”

You succeed in pulling the coat off, and shove it back at his chest. Before he can respond, you point toward the floor a few feet away from the stove he had gotten lit. “Sit down. We can share the coat.”

Arthur grumbles under his breath, but acquiesces. He grunts as he lowers himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he pulls the heavy coat around his shoulders, holding it open for you to crawl into his lap.

“Well, ain’t we sharin?”

You nod, taking the two steps closer to him, but to his surprise, you don’t turn to sit in his lap with your back toward him. In one fluid motion, you hitch your skirt up and spread your legs on either side of him before lowering yourself down, facing him.

You situate yourself, your legs winding around his hips, your chests pressed together, your skirts parted around him. It takes him a flustered moment to settle his hands at your waist, looking up at you with a blush blazed across his cheekbones. You give him a sly smile back as you wind your arms around his neck, sitting fully in his lap, a head above him as you settle down.

His eyes blaze even wider as you roll your core against his rapidly filling cock. Before he can say anything, you press your lips hard against his, his hat falling down the floor. It takes him several surprised seconds before he returns the kiss and tightens his grip around you.

You cannot help but to grind yourself against him, and his hands move down your back to cup your rear, holding you tighter into his embrace. It seems that he has finally gained his confidence as he squeezes the globes of your rear hard.

He pulls away from your lips and pants slightly, frowning, “As much as I want to, don't think its a good idea to take our clothes off.”

You roll your hips over his again and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning, “D-don’t need to -” you trail off as you start to pull at the hem of your skirt, bunching it up at your waist.

Arthur gets your drift immediately, leaning backward and unbuttoning his pants and union suit as you lean up on to your knees above his lap. You grasp at your bloomers, pulling one leg open as Arthur draws his hard cock out from where he had unbuttoned his clothing. One of his hands reaches to your hip to brace you, as one of your hands rests on his shoulder to do the same.

He grasps the base of his cock as you hold your bloomers to the side, and you slowly lower down onto him, sucking in a breath as the hard column of his flesh pierces you - stretches you. After a few moments, you are able to take him fully, and the backs of your thighs rest in his lap.

“J-just stay there,” you breathe, one of your hands gently moving from his his back to softly trace his jaw, “Let me keep you warm.”

Arthur’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. His large arms wound around you tighten as he leans his forehead against yours.

There's an odd sort of pride you have in this moment - where he had been wrapping you in his coat, in his arms, trying to keep you warm - you can at least do this for him. For all the time his strength and size had been used for you - protecting you, providing for you, keeping you warm - you cannot help to smile as you note the tenseness of his jaw subside. You can give him this.

Wound so tightly between each other, you press your lips against his before playfully clenching the muscles of your core. Arthur’s eyes shoot open and he cannot stifle the groan that escapes from his chest, deep and low.

“D-do that again.” He pants, nuzzling his cheek against yours, his arms pulling you against him tighter.

He squirms against you, his hips bucking up a little as you clench against him. He draws his arms around you tighter - you're smothered in him - and groans aloud as he buries his face into your bosom.

“God, darlin’, you’re so warm-”

You tighten your legs around him, pressing your face into the curve of his shoulder. He jolts against you as you clench down on him again.

“Could you come like this?” You breathe into his ear.

He pulls back, his pupils blown wide and rimmed only slightly blue. He nods, almost dumbly, pleasure-addled and unable to speak.

The two of you drown in the intimacy. At his silent answer, you swear you gush a little, your cunt so full of him that you swear you'd never feel so complete again. You thread your fingers through his hair, his hands sweep lovingly around your back.

“Come for me.” You whisper, cupping his cheeks in your hands, tilting his head back slightly recenter his gaze into your eyes.

Arthur breathes out heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as he shudders beneath you, and you feel warmth blossom between you - he fills you with his need, his devotion, he fills you with himself.

Overwhelmed by it all, you tuck your head into his shoulder as he pants against your collarbone. You whine softly as you come also, a soft, gentle tipping over the edge, shuddering around him for a moment. The two of you come down from your highs, wrapped tightly around each other.

Arthur pulls that blue coat tighter around the both of you - and as the snow falls outside, you are warm and content in each other’s embrace.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #twolafic #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

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bookhousestark · 2 years

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ARYA MONTH 2022 - Day 12: Braavos

"Oysters, clams, and cockles" were Cat’s magic words, and like all good magic words they could take her almost anywhere. She had boarded ships from Lys and Oldtown and the Port of Ibben and sold her oysters right on deck. Some days she rolled her barrow past the towers of the mighty to offer baked clams to the guardsmen at their gates. Once she cried her catch on the steps of the Palace of Truth, and when another peddler tried to run her off she turned his cart over and sent his oysters skittering across the cobbles. Customs officers from the Chequy Port would buy from her, and paddlers from the Drowned Town, whose sunken domes and towers poked up from the green waters of the lagoon. One time, when Brea took to her bed with her moon blood, Cat had pushed her barrow to the Purple Harbor to sell crabs and prawns to oarsmen off the Sealord’s pleasure barge, covered stem to stern with laughing faces. Other days she followed the sweetwater river to the Moon Pool. She sold to swaggering bravos in striped satin, and to keyholders and justiciars in drab coats of brown and grey. But she always returned to the Ragman’s Harbor.

#aryastarkmonth2022 #arya stark #asoiafedit #asoiaf #ramona #arya stark month day 12 #gifs

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iilssnet · 1 year

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About Chukchi Sea, facts and maps

The Chukchi Sea, off the coast of northwest Alaska, is one of the most productive ocean ecosystems in the world. The Chukchi Sea freezes completely during the winter, a pattern that has not changed over the past 30 years. Chukchi Sea (Russian: Чуко́тское мо́ре, tr. Chukotskoye more, IPA: ), sometimes referred to as the Chuuk Sea, Chukotsk Sea or the Sea of Chukotsk, is a marginal sea of the Arctic Ocean. It is bounded on the west by the Long Strait, off Wrangel Island, and in the east by Point Barrow, Alaska, beyond which lies the Beaufort Sea. The Bering Strait forms its southernmost limit and connects it to the Bering Sea and the Pacific Ocean. The principal port on the Chukchi Sea is Uelen in Russia. The International Date Line crosses the Chukchi Sea from northwest to southeast. It is displaced eastwards to avoid Wrangel Island as well as the Chukotka Autonomous Okrug on the Russian mainland. The sea has an approximate area of 595,000 km2 (230,000 sq mi) and is only navigable about four months of the year. The main geological feature of the Chukchi Sea bottom is the 700-kilometer-long (430 mi) Hope Basin, which is bound to the northeast by the Herald Arch. Depths less than 50 meters (160 ft) occupy 56% of the total area. The Chukchi Sea has very few islands compared to other seas of the Arctic. Wrangel Island lies at the northwestern limit of the sea, Herald Island is located off Wrangel Island's Waring Point, near the northern limit of the sea. A few small islands lie along the Siberian and Alaskan coasts.

The sea is named after the Chukchi people, who reside on its shores and on the Chukotka Peninsula. The coastal Chukchi traditionally engaged in fishing, whaling and the hunting of walrus in this cold sea. In Siberia places along the coast are: Cape Billings, Cape Schmidt, Amguyema River, Cape Vankarem, the large Kolyuchinskaya Bay, Neskynpil'gyn Lagoon, Cape Serdtse-Kamen, Enurmino, Chegitun River, Inchoun, Uelen and Cape Dezhnev. In Alaska, the rivers flowing into the Chukchi Sea are the Kivalina, the Kobuk, the Kokolik, the Kukpowruk, the Kukpuk, the Noatak, the Utukok, the Pitmegea, and the Wulik, among others. Of rivers flowing in from its Siberian side, the Amguyema, Ioniveyem, and the Chegitun are the most important.

The International Hydrographic Organization defines the limits of the "Chuckchi Sea" as follows: On the West. The Eastern limit of East Siberian Sea . On the North. A line from Point Barrow, Alaska (71°20′N 156°20′W) to the Northernmost point of Wrangel Island (179°30'W). On the South. The Arctic Circle between Siberia and Alaska. Common usage is that the southern extent is further south, at the narrowest part of the Bering Strait which is on the 66th parallel north. Do people live in Chukotka?

Population: 50,526 (2010 Census); 53,824 (2002 Census); 157,528 (1989 Census). The Chukotka Autonomous Okrug is one of the very few places in Russia where there are more men than women. Is Chukchi Russian?

Chukchi, also spelled Chukchee, also called Luorawetlan, people inhabiting the northeasternmost part of Siberia, the Chukotskiy (Chukotka) autonomous okrug (district) in Russia. They numbered 14,000 in the late 20th century and are divided into two chief subgroups, reindeer Chukchi and maritime Chukchi. What language does Chukchi speak?

Chukotko–Kamchatkan language Chukchi /ˈtʃʊktʃiː/, also known as Chukot, is a Chukotko–Kamchatkan language spoken by the Chukchi people in the easternmost extremity of Siberia, mainly in Chukotka Autonomous Okrug. The language is closely related to Koryak. Chukchi, Koryak, Kerek, Alutor, and Itelmen form the Chukotko-Kamchatkan language family. What is Chukchi religion? shamanism Chukchi religious beliefs and practices are often described as a form of shamanism. Animals, plants, heavenly bodies, rivers, forests, and other natural phenomena are considered to have their own spirits. Fire created by friction (instead of matches or lighters) and the tools used to make it are considered sacred. What race is Chukchi? The Chukchi are an ancient arctic people who live at the meeting point of two continents, Eurasia and North America. They refer to themselves as lyg'oravetl'a, which means “real people” or “people standing openly.” The present population is about 16,000. Where did the Chukchi come from?

The Chukchi, or Chukchee (Chukot: Ԓыгъоравэтԓьэт, О'равэтԓьэт, Ḷygʺoravètḷʹèt, O'ravètḷʹèt), are a Siberian indigenous people native to the Chukchi Peninsula, the shores of the Chukchi Sea and the Bering Sea region of the Arctic Ocean all within modern Russia. They speak the Chukchi language. Why is the Chukchi Sea important?

WHY IS THE CHUKCHI SEA IMPORTANT? The Chukchi Sea, being fed by nutrient-rich waters from the south, is one of the most abundant marine ecosystems in the world, including whales and walrus, Waters from the Chukchi are an important source of nutrients, heat and freshwater for the Arctic Ocean.

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coldmorte · 3 years

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#Arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr photomode #photomode #rdr #red dead redemption #video games #xbox #xbox one #free roam #barrow lagoon #mine #western #black and white

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talesofredemption · 3 years

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#rdr2 #arthur morgan #ambarino #snow #fog #ice #barrow lagoon #lake isabella

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charlotte-balfours-garden · 4 years

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the fog at barrow lagoon was quite surreal this morning 🌫

#made me think of arthurs more ghosts than people quote #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 scenery #rdr2 photomode #barrow lagoon #mine

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elizacornwall · 3 years

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Just a short trip into the mountains today - Figured out where the second part of the High Stakes treasure was.

#barrow lagoon #ambarino #grizzlies west #Arthur Morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 screenshots #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 screenshots #myscreens

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rdr2album · 4 years

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“The Legend of The East.”

Barrow Lagoon, Ambarino.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan #rdr2 scenery #rdr2 photography #screenshot #Barrow Lagoon #Ambarino

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balrogsnboomsticks · 4 years

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Sunrise at Barrow Lagoon, Grizzlies West - RDR2

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #barrow lagoon #grizzlies west #ambarino #rdr2 screenshots

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sans-abrisme · 5 years

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#Barrow Lagoon #Ambarino #GrizzliesOrientales #BarrowLagoon #Lake #Frozen Lake #RDR2 #red dead redemption 2 #reddeadredemption2 #PS4 #NoFilter #SansAbrisme #Ice #Winter #Photography #VideoGames

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lady-death-herself · 2 years

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× [ Mariko Watanabe // Barrow Lagoon, Grizzlies West. ] × ↳ "Got caught out in a blizzard on my way back to Risuke and I's cabin; found this old place down by Barrow Lagoon, but...it might have been safer to brave the blizzard. Nasty energies slumber beneath this ice."

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elenafishersps1 · 3 years

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all dressed up to stand in the middle of Barrow Lagoon

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr #video games #gaming #gamingedit #photo #mine #my photo

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neon-junkie · 3 years

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Throw me to the Wolves

Summary: A few wrong turns and you're lost up in the Grizzlies, stuck wandering through the snow with your abusive partner. Until a derelict cabin comes into view, with a stranger inside who helps you, not just from the wilderness, but from your psychotic partner.

Pairing: f!Reader x Unnamed m!Partner, f!Reader x Flaco Hernández

Word Count: 8526

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of verbal and emotional abuse.

Tags: Abusive relationship, Trauma, Gaslighting, Angst, Breakdowns, Happy ending.

Notes: This fic started off as a request, but it just really hit home for me, so I had to pour a lot of my trauma out into this. There is a lot of content below that may trigger some people, with detailed descriptions of verbal and emotional abuse. This is a reader insert, but it's written from my personal experiences; the dialogue that is in italics are direct quotes from my abusive ex, and I decided to post this today seeing as I'm now a year free from his abuse!! yay!!

Some relationships can't be fixed, whilst others shouldn't be fixed. Which one is yours? Probably both, but for some reason, you're still willing to try, despite the lack of emotions you've felt over the last few years. It seems the 'man' you call your partner has drained you of almost everything - feelings, money, the will to live. But he's promised yet again that he'll change, and during one of those talks where he put on his happy face, and suggested a weekend away, somewhere remote where you two will have to work together to keep each other warm, and hopefully fix this broken bond yet again. There's a few small cabins north of Strawberry, the town that you live in, and from what you've heard, they're all abandoned. Strangers use them all the time for various reasons, usually shelter, and the particular one your partner has in mind is located at Barrow Lagoon. You've never been past Big Valley, not wanting to trudge through the thick snow and get cut off by the surrounding mountains, along with whatever gangs live up there. If you're heading for Canada then that definitely isn't the right way; and to nobody's surprise, you haven't taken the right way either.

"We should be there by now," your partner comments as you ride alongside a stream, heading up the steady slope. You have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from sliding in a petty comment, knowing you'll only feed his flames, but your lack of reply makes his brows furrow, and he comments again. "Are you deaf? did you not hear me?" he shouts, his horse nickering at his raised voice. You're only a few meters behind, not far enough to not hear him... sadly... "What do you want me to say?" you sigh. "I know we went the wrong way, but you said we should go this way," you finally bite. Your partner snaps his head around to glare at you, spitting his words like venom. "Maybe if you'd stayed quiet then we would be at the cabin by now," he almost yells. So, he tells you off for being quiet, and then tells you off for not being quiet. Are all men like this? You can't help but let out another sigh; here we go again. He gives his horse a nasty kick and continues to ride forwards, yourself trotting behind; as always, you get that feeling in your chest. Well, it's somewhat of a lack of feeling, your chest turning numb yet heavy, your eyes just the same, urging to cry, but you've shed far too many tears to bother wasting any more. At least he's now ignoring you. The trail continues, and a settlement appears in your line of sight. It's clearly abandoned, the houses falling apart, each of them letting in an occasional gust of wind as they try their hardest to hold themselves together. You go to open your mouth, to suggest using this area as shelter for the night, but your partner turns to you and begins yapping away. "We're not staying here, I don't trust it. There's probably a gang hiding there, just waiting to ambush us," he tells you as he carries on, turning to the right and following the trail around the deserted town. It's possible that your partner is, dare you say it, right. There are no signs of life, but they could be hidden within the houses, or surrounding the area, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Your eyes gloss over the snow and you don't see any tracks, but there's no point arguing with somebody who has never listened to anybody but himself in his entire life. "Let's go this way, maybe it'll loop back down," he comments, his head remaining forward as he leads off the path, following a small trail. You only know it's a trail because the snow is slightly lowered, there's no specific hoof prints, but the snow has settled unevenly, meaning somebody has passed through here well before you. The path does begin to loop round, and you soon find yourself stood on a small hill, overlooking a run down shack and a frozen lake. You pull a face at the sight, turning to see his grin. "I told you we'd find it," he comments. "That can't be it... the cabin is falling apart, you said it the cabin is-" "-I know, but... I've never been so how am I meant to be certain?" your partner cuts you off, his voice raised and firm as always. "So, you're trying to take us away to a location that you've never even been to?" you roll your eyes. As much as you don't want to spark an argument, you can't help but point out his idiocy. "Well, my parents have been to it," he blabbers. "And did your parents describe it as a broken down cabin, with a shoddy outhouse, and some tents beside it?" He looks at you, a frown plastered across his ugly mug, but you're no stranger to that sight. From the way his closed mouth moves, you can tell he's biting his tongue, holding himself back as his cheeks continue to turn red. "Come on," is all he says as he orders his horse to head down the hill, attempting to trot across the ice. You, the sensible one in the relationship (though he seems to disagree,) take your horse around the frozen lake, watching as his poor mount begins to slip and slide across the lake, nickering every time he pulls at its reigns, as if that's going to make the situation any better. He finally reaches the other side, mumbling nonsense under his breath as he demounts his horse, leading them over to a tree and hitching them to it. You leave yours unhitched, knowing that there's no way this is the right location, and that you'll probably be walking out of that cabin within minutes with him on your tail, blaming you yet again for everything. Your eyes trail over the cabin again; the windows are covered, the glass still intact, but a sheet prevents you from peering in to check it out. The only way in is through the front door, and it eerily creaks open with a gentle push. No lock? that's suspicious, but you'll probably find it on the floor, seeing as this cabin is falling apart. You're slow to wander inside, observing the varied mess of crates and bottles on the floor. The cooking fire is out, and it looks as if it's not been used for a while, with what's left of somebody's mouldy dinner marinading in the cauldron. The snow falls off your boots as you continue walking into the cabin, stopping just in front of a small table; it's a mess, just like the rest of the cabin, but the candle catches your eye. That's when you notice the last thing you were hoping for, a sign of life, as the smoke is still drifting from it. You overhear your partner entering the cabin and as you turn to face him, the stranger appears from behind the door. "Don't move, hands up," he tells you, his gun in hand pointed at you. You have no problem following orders when your life is on the line, slowly raising your hands, but your idiot of a partner, who's barely a step into the doorway, attempts to peer behind the open door and shoot the stranger. There's a flash from the strangers gun, followed by your partner yelping and clutching his hand. The stranger has disarmed him, and done it with such speed that your brain can't quite process what's happened. "You moron!" He grumbles, clutching onto his hand and checking his injury. There's no blood, probably a burn at most, and the 'trauma' that he'll definitely use for sympathy points whenever he gets the opportunity to. "When I tell you not to move, then you shouldn't move," The stranger hisses, his voice deep and earthy. His gun is now pointed at your partner, who looks up at him and frowns. You watch as the two square up to each other, and you question why your partner can't just swallow his pride for once. He's attempting to stand upright, puffing out his chest at a man that towers over him. But the more the stranger steps forward, the more your partner finally begins to cower away, until he's backed against the wall with a gun pointing to his head. "I said hands up," he growls, and finally, your partner raises his hands. "Who are you?" the stranger asks. "Why's that matter? you're just gonna kill us." "I might change my mind. It all depends on what stupid move you decide to do next," he says with a chuckle at the end of his words. Your partner gives his name, followed by pointing at you and saying yours. "And what are you doing here?" the stranger then asks. "We were travelling to Barrow Lagoon, until this idiot here got us lost," he explains as he points to you again. You raise an eyebrow at his comment, and the stranger does the same. He turns to look at you. "You can lower your hands," he tells you in a voice so soft, the complete opposite to the roar you heard a few seconds ago. The strangers head snaps back to your partner as he barks "I didn't say you could lower yours!" Again, your partners hands are raised, and you notice that he's physically shaking. You soak up the sight, enjoying seeing him tremble as somebody begins to treat him the way he treats others, specifically you. "Idiot, huh? you always talk to her like that?" the stranger questions. "Well, she got us lost, so of course she-" "So, that makes it okay? you're the one who tried to shoot me moments ago, so I guess that makes you a lot more of an idiot, huh?" he cuts your partner off. Your partner doesn't reply, his head lowering as the stranger begins to laugh. "Well, say something," he comments. Your partner goes to open his mouth, but he's lost for words, looking like a scared puppy, making the stranger laugh even more at his cowardliness. For some reason, you step in. "We didn't mean to intrude, we didn't know that somebody lives here," you explain, taking a few steps forward until you're in the centre of the room, a foot away from the stranger. He looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to question why you're attempting to save this coward. "We'll leave now, if that's alright with you." "Smart woman," the stranger compliments you, but directs his comment towards your partner, "you should learn a thing or two from her, cabrón." "She's not," your partner replies. Really? this man has the audacity to argue back over your intelligence with a man whose pointing a gun to his head? The stranger looks at you once more, a look of disgust on his face, "does he always talk to you like this?" "-Hey, she's not speaking to you," your partner interrupts him. "She can speak to whomever she wants," the stranger bites back. He's about to turn his gaze to your partner, and you notice how twitchy his trigger finger is becoming. "Would you both stop?" you butt in, two pairs of wide eyes now looking at you. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to intrude," you do your best to apologize, reaching out to grab your partners arm and drag him away from the wall. "We'll leave, again, I'm sorry," you say, pushing him out the door, following straight behind. The stranger trails over, standing in his doorway, watching both of you whistle for your horses in an attempt to run away. His gun falls limp by his side, not holstered, but (unfortunately) no longer pointing at your partner. He stares at the ground, letting out a deep sigh before he calls out to you both. "If you're heading for Barrow Lagoon then it's too late for tonight, wolves surround this area, and they'll be on your trail before you make it back to Colter. You can take the tents for the night," he offers, using his gun to point at the two empty tents beside his cabin. "Thank you," you reply, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Neither of you had any idea about what wildlife lives up here, and you don't fancy becoming some overgrown puppies dinner. Your partner looks at you with a scowl, but you choose to ignore him, demounting your horse and finding a comfortable place to hitch them for tonight. The stranger doesn't say anything else, turning back into his cabin and shutting the door behind him. Now that the stranger has disappeared, your partner begins his scolding, and you can't help but zone out to it. As always, there's a string of insults, and it's obvious that he's desperate to try and blame you for this situation. You know you're not in the wrong, you know you did the right thing by de-escalating the situation and getting out of there, and you know that he knows he's the idiot, but some 'men' just can't accept their faults. There's no point responding to any of his blabbering, and he's right on your tail as you unpack, getting your things cosy in this tent, not bothering with anything he owns. You know that once he's finished berating you, that he'll click his fingers and expect you to unload his bags too, then he'll probably demand a hot meal and a back rub, as if you're his slave - not his partner. But then your partner says something that for some reason, always seems to get to you. It's a babyish insult, a word that really shouldn't mean as much as it does, but your partner has over-used it to the point where you shudder every time you hear the word. "You're so stupid," he insults you. "I know," you dryly reply, not even looking in his direction as you continue to get settled in one of the tents. "Such an idiot," he adds on. "I know." "You know what? Sometimes I wish you were a man, just so I could hit you." "Really?" you snap, stopping in your tracks to shoot a look of disappointment his way, not that it does much. "I do-" "-I'm surprised you already haven't!" you cut him off, "and I don't see how I'm the idiot here? I'm not the one who tried to shoot him!" "Why are you defending him?" he scoffs. "Because we're in the wrong; we stormed into his cabin, and then you tried to murder him!" Your partner puts on a babyish voice as he repeats your words, mocking you for... having common sense? "why are you defending him?" he questions again, and cuts you off before you can repeat your previous answer. "You're going to cheat on me with him, aren't you?" "What?" you stutter, in utter disbelief. How the hell has he managed to get to this idea? "I can tell you are, I know you too well, better than you think!" "You don't know me at all," you correct him. "Well, you haven't said 'no' to it!" "I'm not going to cheat on you," you sigh, although you should, he deserves it, and more... "You're going to cheat on me, just like all those times you have done in the past!" "You know I've never cheated on you, not unlike that time I caught you chatting up that woman at the Saloo-" "-That wasn't cheating! we've already discussed that!" your partner shouts, his face turning redder by the second. You let out a long sigh, your head beginning to pound from losing your final few braincells. "I'm done with this conversation," you state, and continue unpacking. He huffs and puffs, grunts and groans, and has the audacity to barge you out the way as he begins unloading his bags - at least he's not demanded you do it. There's an unspoken agreement that the tent is halved, and you're honestly surprised that he hasn't taken the other tent for himself, knowing what a drama queen he can be, especially after an argument. Whatever, this is fine, you'll be fine. You just need to get through tonight, and then you'll set off early tomorrow and head straight back home. Admit it, this relationship is done for; you've known that all along, you knew that the second you two had your first disagreement. Your mind runs through everything as you eat your dinner, munching away on your cooked can of beans, washing them down with a slug of whiskey as you and your partner sit in silence. ------------------ It's surprisingly peaceful up here; there's almost complete silence, complimented with the cracking campfire, and the occasional howl that you can hear in the distance. That stranger was telling the truth, there are wolves nearby, and you two definitely would have ended up their meal tonight. You thanked him, but you feel like you've not done enough... this stranger has saved you from wolves and the cold, selflessly offering a place to stay despite your partner attempting to murder him for defending his own home. Another tin of beans is opened and placed by the campfire to cook, and you finish up your own, carefully using a rag to pry the now-cooked can of beans away from the campfire. You wrap the rag around it, preventing the metal from burning your bare hands, and begin standing upright. "Where are you going?" your partner questions. "To give some food to that stranger," you reply. "Why? he tried to kill me!" "He tried to kill you," you correct, "and because he's offered us a place to stay, and saved us from wolves." "Whatever," your partner grunts, "you might as well kiss him whilst you're over there." You ignore his suggestion, although this is probably the best suggestion he's ever had. A spare fork is placed into the tin of beans, and you make your way over to his cabin, knocking on the door and awaiting his reply. He doesn't answer at first, so you knock a little louder. "What?" you hear a grumpy voice call out. "I uh, brought you some food," you sheepishly reply, now having second thoughts. Is this stupid? is it weird to offer this man a lousy tin of beans as your way of saying thanks? There's no time to think, and your mind goes blank the second he opens the door, looking down at you with a scowl on his face. Your cheeks turn red, and you suddenly forget that words exist, gawking at this man with a hot tin of beans in your hands. "You brought me food?" the stranger questions, his voice as soft as it was earlier when he was speaking directly to you. "Uhm, yeah... I uh," you pause and look away. Are you shaking because you're nervous? or because it's cold? "You didn't have to," he replies. "I know, and I know it's not much..." you reply, finally turning to face him, although your eyes remain fixated on the can of beans. "...but it's the least I can offer as my thanks for letting me- us stay," you correct yourself, instantly regretting it. Your partner hasn't offered any thanks, not even in words. The stranger lets out a soft chuckle, reaching out to take the tin from your hands. There's skin contact, there has to be considering he's scooping the rag up from your palms, preventing himself from being burnt on the hot metal, and for whatever reason, your head begins to spin. "Thank you," he replies, luring your eyes dart up to meet his. Yet again, you're in awe at how softly he's speaking to you. He's huge, a built and stocky guy, towering over you, yet speaking to you like you're a newborn. You study him, not meaning to, but it's hard to move your eyes away; he's slightly aged, an array of wrinkles covering his face, but still looks like he could easily take anybody on, and has the scars to show it. The loose hairs hanging on either side of his face compliment his appearance, and that thick coat he's wearing looks so warm, so... huggable... and you suddenly feel cold as you admire it. "What's your name?" the stranger asks. "What?" He laughs, "I said, what's your name?" "Oh," you wince. You give him your name, and in return, he gives you his. "Flaco," he tells you, "Flaco Hernández." "Nice to meet you," you politely reply, giving the back of your neck an awkward scratch. There's a moment of silence, and you watch as he stirs the tin of beans before scooping some into his mouth. "I haven't eaten in so long," he mutters under his breath. "I have more food... if you-" "-No," he cuts you off, "that's yours, not mine to take." "But you've helped me-" "-No," he cuts you off yet again, "you need it more than I do." "Alright," you softly shrug, deciding its best not to push your anything onto this man. Silence hits once again, and you don't even realize you're staring until Flaco makes eye contact with you. He's stood in his doorway, gulping down a can of beans, and you're watching him like a puppy awaiting scraps. You realize how uncomfortable this must be for him, and turn to leave, but the second your eyes trail from his, he speaks up. "Look, you uh..." Flaco pauses. He looks over to the tents, and scowls a little as he notices your partner sat there, minding his own business, pretending like he's never done any harm to anybody. "...you let me know if you need anything, okay?" "Okay," you nod, "thank you." "There's no need to thank me," Flaco tells you, his eyes wandering back over to your partner. "You should get back to him, before that baby kicks up a fuss again." Flaco grins when you begin laughing at his comment, moving your hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter, not wanting to fly any flags and spark up another argument when you return. "Go on," Flaco urges you, nodding his head in your partners direction. You flash him a grin before heading off, overhearing Flaco shut the door behind you. Thankfully, your partner doesn't react when you sit back down; you assume he didn't overhear the interaction, seeing as he's always so eager to jump down your throat at any opportunity. ------------------ The night remains quiet, well, quiet between you and your partner. Light snow begins to fall, and there's a slight breeze that you're certain will pick up throughout the night, and eventually, it does. You wake up shivering, violently vibrating, desperate for any kind of warmth. The campfire has burnt out long ago, and despite all the layers you're wearing, the tent can only provide so much extra heat, if any. You huff, watching the thick smoke trail from your lips, and roll over to curl up against the only other source of heat. Isn't it sad that you're genuinely afraid to cuddle your partner? knowing that he'll shove you off, that he'd much rather let you freeze to death than hold you throughout the night. And that's exactly what he does, almost a second after you wrap your arm around his waist. He lands a nasty nudge to your ribs, making you whimper. You press your hands to your chest, and gently rest your forehead against his back, attempting to salvage any kind of heat you can steal from him. He jabs his shoulder against you, hitting you square in the eye, and this time you vocalize the pain he's just put you in. "Why?" is all you ask. "I don't want you touching me," he murmurs, still half asleep. "I'm freezing here!" you snap. "Go and light the fire then." "I'm not going out there, I'll die!" He lets out an overly-dramatic huff, throwing the blankets off both of you as he sits upright. His hands flex, attempting to relax as he lets out a deep breath and shuts his eyes. As always, your partner puts a specific tone on, a belittling one, one where he's attempting to get the high ground despite knowing he's in the wrong. "I don't want you near me, alright? I need my space," he questions in a patronizing tone, hissing through his teeth. "I'm going to freeze to death, you're probably going to freeze to death too, I can see you shaking!" you point out as you also sit up. "Not my problem," he bluntly replies. "Sort yourself out, and I'll sort myself out," he shrugs, and lies back down, rolling over to face away from you. Like the child he is, he pulls the blanket away from you, hogging the entire thing as if to say 'fuck you, i'd rather you freeze to death!' You don't bother announcing that you're leaving, but you make sure it's obvious as you loudly pack your bags, swinging them over your shoulder and unfastening the tent flaps. Before you leave, you rip the blanket from his hands. It is your blanket, after all. He goes to grumble and yank it back, but you've already exited the tent, leaving the flaps hanging open - it's only fair considering he'd happily treat you the same way. Barely a meter away, you sit down in the other tent, dumping your bag beside you and instantly putting your head in your hands. Your partner hasn't bothered chasing after you, why would he? and you overhear him closing the tent flaps aggressively, because of course, everything he does just has to be aggressive. Another shiver escapes you, and your head rests on your forearms as you look at what's left of the campfire, burnt out long ago. There's no way you're able to re-light it, not when there's a layer of snow settling atop of it; the logs are damp and continue to worsen as every second passes. Face it, you're going to freeze to death out here! But an "oi!" perks your ears up, and you look at your surroundings, wondering where it came from. It's definitely not your partner, and you almost jump out of your skin to see the stranger, Flaco, half-stood out of his doorway, gesturing for you to come over. Did he... over-hear that argument? you're embarrassed, but you're also grabbing your bags and shuffling through the snow to him, stomping your boots as you enter his cabin and shutting the door behind you. "What happened this time?" Flaco questions. His tone of voice is so sincere, as if he's known you for years, and knows that this is a regular occurrence. "Oh, you know... stuff," you shrug, standing awkwardly on one side of his cabin as he settles on the other, sitting down on a well-worn chair in the back left corner. Flaco raises an eyebrow, and silently gestures you to get comfortable on his bed. You don't hesitate, slumping your bag down beside it, kicking off your boots and wrapping your blanket around your shoulders as you sit back, leaning against the cabin wall and turning your attention to him. It's warm in here, thankfully, a lot warmer than those damp canopy walls. Is it bad that you're getting a sadistic pleasure out of knowing that your partner is freezing out there? the fact that you're enjoying his suffering says enough about the relationship, and yet for some reason, you feel bad, as if you shouldn't be taking pleasure in his pain, despite knowing he takes much pleasure in yours. "Stuff?" Flaco repeats. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but Flaco is here to lend an ear, if you need it." The way he refers to himself in third person is sweet. You suddenly feel heat radiating off your cheeks, and you're uncertain if you're blushing, or if the heat is finally catching up to you. "I uh... I woke up shivering, and he wouldn't let me huddle for warmth with him." "He wouldn't?" Flaco almost spits. "What else did he do, huh?" "Pushed me away, you know, quite literally." "This uh, partner of yours.... has he 'pushed' you away before?" "I mean, he's shoved me off him many times. He's never physically hurt me, but I'm used to being literally pushed away." Flaco pauses, sitting back in his chair. One of his heels is bouncing, softly tapping against the wooden floor as his eyes dart around the room. He licks his lips before speaking again. "Well, we'll let him freeze out there, it's what he deserves for treating you like this." You laugh along with him - Flaco is right, this is what he deserves! but your laughter trails off as you begin to get second thoughts, as always. It's unfair, that you know he's a bad person, but you can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Is this right? allowing him to freeze out there? although you're certain that Flaco definitely isn't going to let him warm up in this cabin, especially after his attempted murder and lack of thanks. "You're thinking," Flaco states, drawing your eyes over to his. He's no longer leaning back in his chair, instead hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, quite obviously studying you. "Yeah," you confirm, "I just... I feel a bit bad, willingly let him suffer out there-" "-So what? it's clear that he's allowed you to suffer enough," Flaco cuts you off. He sighs, shaking his head and brushing a few strands of hair off his face. "Look, I haven't known you for very long, but it's obvious that... thing out there doesn't deserve you. Hell, he doesn't deserve to live, speaking to others like that, let alone a woman!" You stumble on your next words, as if the words don't want to fall from your mouth, probably because you know deep down that it's not true. "H-he does love me, and I guess... I guess I am stupid at times... and-" "-No," Flaco bluntly replies, gesturing with his hand to stop. "You've been brainwashed, chiquita. That's... that's not love, that's not normal. That's abuse," Flaco states. "Abuse?" you repeat his words. "I've... I've always questioned on whether this is abuse, and I've never heard another person say it. Our friends, well, his friends, they always say that I'm in the wrong, they always take his side," you explain. "Of course they would," Flaco laughs, "they're his friends, not yours. Of course they'd be stupid enough to follow his lead," Flaco shakes his head. He takes a look at you, sympathy flowing in his eyes, and sends a soft smile your way. "Come on, you know it as well as I do," Flaco urges. Flaco's not wrong, he's far from wrong. If anything, this stranger is the voice of reason you've been looking for this whole time - somebody who isn't afraid to speak your thoughts, to confirm your doubts, to help you see clearly. His eyes trail away from yours, and he softly shakes his head, but it's not directed at you. "What is it?" you question, noticing how wide his eyes go as he looks back over to you, as if you weren't meant to see that. "I was going to ask something stupid," Flaco says with a light laugh. "What was it?" you question again. Flaco attempts to brush you off, but you push on it for some unknown reason. "I was going to ask why you don't just leave," Flaco sighs, "stupid question, I know." Flaco notices how you relax, letting out a sigh of relief. He smiles at you, but tilts his head in confusion as you say "thank you." "For what?" "For not asking that," you explain, "for not... victim blaming me!" This time, Flaco does laugh, leaning back in his chair and letting his elbows rest on the backrest, propping himself up. "Like I said, it's a stupid question. You've got to be a real cabrón to ask that." You let out another sigh of relief, shuffling about on the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest. There's silence once again, and you zone out, thinking about things - thinking about him. Flaco's so right; you are being abused, you are a victim, and you have been brainwashed into thinking you're not. Despite only knowing him for a few hours, he's done so much to help, much more than anybody in your past has. And it seems that he's now willing to be a shoulder to cry on, as you let out a sniffle and wipe your eyes, biting the tip of your tongue to try and hold back. A large part of you feels guilty, not at your partner, but for storming into this strangers life and unloading your emotions onto him. Flaco lets out a small cough, drawing your attention to him, your glossy eyes meeting his warm ones. "You look like you need a friend right now," Flaco states the obvious, "I know I'm a stranger, but I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on." And you do, you really do. You let out a soft nod, and the second Flaco stands, you begin letting the tears flow. He settles on the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around you and firmly pulling you in, allowing you to begin sobbing against his chest. You're pawing at him, finding just the right spot to settle in and begin letting all your emotions out. His coat is softer than you could ever imagine, smothering your face as you press yourself against his chest, the cold metal of each bullet on his bandoliers resting against your jawline. You feel a little awkward, finding so much comfort in this stranger, but he brushes your anxious thoughts away as he pulls you onto his lap, shuffling back to lean against the cabin wall, letting you cry in his arms. Loving is the right word to describe this man; you can physically feel the warmth and sympathy radiating off him, cooing you softly as you continue to cry. He moves an arm off you for a second, only so he can remove his hat and place it down beside him, then coddles you once again. "Let it all out," Flaco encourages, his hands slowly stroking your arm and back, and you feel his cheek rest atop of your head, pulling you tighter against him. You're uncertain how long you were crying for, your mind turning foggy as you click into a trance, shaking and sobbing, whaling and whining, allowing your body to do whatever it needs to let all these emotions out. But eventually, you begin to burn yourself out, a headache slowly stepping in its place; you give your temple a rub, licking your lips at the same time, and keep your head pressed to Flaco's chest. He's still softly hushing you, gripping you tightly; you question how long he's been up here, if he's all alone, when he last had any kind of human contact. Can you blame him for coddling you so much? he must be losing his mind up here! and yet, he's still treating you with so much kindness, moving his hand off your arm to begin gently running it through your hair. The sound of his heartbeat appears in your conscience, and you listen in, the faint sound of the fire crackling in the distance. Flaco lets out a deep breath, lifting his head off yours to peer down at you. He notices the way you're gripping tightly onto his coat, and how your eyelids flutter, eager to drift off to sleep. Flaco speaks up, his voice softer than you can ever imagine, just about a whisper as to not startle you. "You know, I could get rid of him, if you'd like," he offers with a soft laugh. Your head snaps up to look at him, his warm eyes meeting your red ones. "What do you mean?" you question, needing confirmation to your thoughts. "Men like that, they just jump from one person to the other. Once he's done with you, he'll find another toy to play with. He's a pest," Flaco explains, still running his fingers along your hair as he talks. "I can't do that, I... I can't hurt him," you sigh, curling back against Flaco's chest, your eyes falling shut. "I never said you have to," Flaco lightly chuckles. He rests his head atop of yours, remaining silent for a few moments until he speaks up again, "just say the word, and I'll get rid of him for you." Why does every single part of you want to say yes? all apart from a tiny piece of guilt holding you back, preventing you from protecting yourself and others that he'll almost definitely pounce onto once you're out of the picture. You're thinking about it, wondering if you can live with that guilt, if you can allow his blood to be on your hands. "Chiquita," Flaco speaks up, catching your attention. "you and him, do you live together?" "No, he moved out a few months ago, got his own place," you explain. "Hm, any reason why?" "We just can't live together, too different, we clash." "Strange," Flaco comments. "You know you two aren't compatible, yet you're still putting the effort in." Once again, Flaco is right, but you begin to question your situation once Flaco speaks his next load of thoughts. "Why are you two heading to Barrow Lagoon? It's not a place that anybody goes near, out of respect," he comments. "Huh? respect of what?" you question. "I've forgotten his name, but there's a deceased man there. He used to live there some years back, passed away, and sadly his grave was dug up and vandalized," Flaco explains. "There's not many of us that live in the Grizzlies, but it's an unspoken rule that nobody goes there." "My partner... he told me that his parents have been there before, and he never mentioned anything about a grave," you speak your thoughts, lifting your head off Flaco's chest to speak directly to him, still curled up in his lap. "Something about that partner of yours isn't sitting right, even more now you're telling me this," Flaco frowns. Cogs are turning in both of your heads... this isn't the first time your partner has lied to you, or 'misinformed' you, as he'd put it. Flaco's eyes meet yours, and neither of you look away. He's studying you, his eyes trailing over you, his frown fading away the longer he looks at you. You can feel your eyes swelling up again, and you return to finding comfort against Flaco's chest, his hand coming up to massage your scalp again as you let out whatever tears you have left. There's silence between you two again, just you lightly sobbing in his arms, and Flaco coddling you. He's clinging onto you tighter this time, and you can sense how protective he's become over you, despite knowing you for such a short amount of time. This energy that Flaco's radiating, you've never felt it from your partner before, only the opposite. For a man that claims to be in love with you, he's done nothing but attempt to push you away from the very start, only to go back on his words and actions whenever you do try to break away. Why is he like this? why does he act sweet and kind whenever you try to escape, only to snap back into his abusive place once he knows you're in his grasp again? It's strange, he's strange, but in some ways, Flaco is also strange. You feel more love from this stranger than you've ever felt from your lousy partner, so much love, so much warmth and comfort, protection and sympathy. Your partner has never done anything like this, he's never had the basic respect to hold you in his arms as you cry, instead he pushes you away and tells you to 'sort your own problems out.' Flaco knows you're thinking again as he tells you to "take all the time you need." What a wonderful man, what a wonderful stranger you've stumbled across in your desperate time of need. So, you do what he says, taking all the time you need to think about everything, but mostly the extremely tempting offer that Flaco has gracefully placed in front of you. Are you comfortable with having somebody else's blood on your hands? "What do you have in mind?" you question, making Flaco smile against you, his head resting atop of yours. "That depends on what you're comfortable with," Flaco replies, lifting his head to look down at you in his lap. "I..." you pause, finding the strength to get this over and done with. "I can't hurt him, I can't, but I'm not going to step in the way if you want to." "Oh, I want to do a lot more than hurt him," Flaco lets out a laugh. "Just look at how much he's hurt you in these few hours, and I bet he's done much worse in the past!" "He has," you sigh. "Look," Flaco moves his hand off your head, gently cupping your chin, directing your eyes to his. "I'm no stranger to death. I've killed men before, and I have no problem doing it again. His blood will be on my hands, not yours, okay?" Your eyes trail away from Flaco's, visually showing discomfort to that word - death. Is this really what you want? it is, but it isn't... "I don't know," you reply. "I don't know if I want him dead, but I do know that I don't ever want to see him again." "I'm not going to do anything without your permission," Flaco tells you. His hand moves off your chin, cupping your jawline, his heart thudding in his chest when you snuggle your cheek into the curve of his palm. "...What if I give you permission to do whatever? to take him off my hands and... I don't know," you sigh. "I... I don't want to stoop to his level, I don't want to be like him." "It's okay," Flaco coos. "You leave it to Flaco, he'll sort it out." Once again, you rest your head on Flaco's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths, his heart beating in the distance, his thoughts running through his mind. The hand on your cheek returns to your head, petting you, comforting you, making your scalp tingle with every touch. You're exhausted, your body hunches over slightly, aching and desperate to rest; and your eyes, so dry and red, with heavy bags settled beneath them. Flaco can't fault you for dozing off in his lap, he doesn't even realize you've nodded off until you let out a soft snore. He sees this as the perfect opportunity to get some rest, gently shuffling you off his lap and tucking you into bed, laying beside you, your body pressed firmly against his, cuddling somebody for the first time in months. ------------------ You don't remember falling asleep, but you do remember how heavy your eyes felt once you'd cried your heart out. A yawn escapes your lips, and you stretch, pulling the blankets back up to your face once you feel your bones click. Wait... blankets? Your eyes snap open, and you take a look around, realizing you're completely alone, tucked into Flaco's bed. Through the cabin cracks you can tell it's morning, or afternoon, you're not entirely sure, but it's definitely light out, and you can hear wildlife singing in the distance. Shit. Your partner! You've been cooped up here all night, taking refuge and comfort in Flaco's cabin, and you're certain you're going to get it in the neck. Oh, you can hear his words now, accusing you of cheating, accusing you of leaving him to suffer in the cold all night, accusing you of whatever else he fancies because as always, you're in the wrong. Your boots are pulled on, and you let the blankets slip off you, peering out the cabin and nervously looking over to the tents. The flaps are wide open, bunched up at the corners, letting the frozen air trail through. You quietly creep out, tiptoeing down each porch step, silently shuffling through the snow until the inside of each tent comes into your sight. They're empty... The tents are in the exact condition that you found them, even your partners belongings are gone. Your eyes dart around, soon realizing that his horse is missing too, but yours is still hitched where you left them last night. There's a sickly feeling in your stomach, but you know it's not a feeling of regret. It's fear of the unknown, you have no idea where your partner or Flaco is, but you're almost certain that Flaco's done something about your dilemma - done something about him. You're unable to re-enter the cabin, instead sitting in the doorway, looking out at the frozen landscape and awaiting somebody's return. There's silence, so much silence that you can hear your own heartbeat, nervously thumping in your chest, making your sickness worsen as every second passes. Time trails by slowly, and you can't do anything apart from sit in the doorway and peer out at that small hill opposite the cabin, waiting for somebody to return. But after what feels like days, somebody does return, and you let out the biggest sigh of relief when it's the person you were hoping for. Flaco comes trotting over the hill, riding on the back of a horse that oddly looks like him; they're built and fluffy, a dark brown coat with thick fur keeping their hooves warm. Flaco makes eye contact with you the second he appears, and is smiling as he dismounts his horse, making his way over to you as you leap up from where you were sitting. "What happened?" you question. "It's done," Flaco explains, "he won't be bothering you no more." "You... you killed him?" you question in shock, and you instantly get the urge to scold yourself for feeling so... mixed about this. "I didn't do anything," Flaco shrugs. "What do you mean?" "I mean, I didn't do anything." Sigh. "Explain, please?" Flaco chuckles as he urges you into his cabin, his large hand placed on the small of your back, signalling for you to sit on his bed whilst he settles beside you. "He was already awake when I came out the cabin this morning, storming over and barking at me, demanding to know where you were. I shrugged and said I didn't know, and he pointed his finger at me whilst insisting that I did know, and that I needed to tell him 'or else'," Flaco lets out a laugh, and you can picture it clearly, not being a stranger to that sight. "I didn't tell him where you were, I didn't want to risk him storming in here and waking you up, or doing something stupid to you. So, I told him you've probably gone out to find firewood, or you've got sick of him and finally left-" "-You actually said that?" you cut him off, your eyes going wide. "Of course, I did," Flaco laughs. "And he was not happy with my comment, but I couldn't care any less. He said that he was going to look for you, and I told him that we're going hunting instead. That stupid, little man began his yapping again, but he quit barking when I stood over him and made it clear that I'm not one to bargain with." "What did you do, exactly?" you question. "I just told him he's going to hunt for me, and he didn't question me, which was surprising... Anyway, I took him down past Barrow Lagoon, and I made sure to point out that that was the place he was looking for," Flaco laughs again, chuckling away like a father laughing at his own jokes. "We trailed off into the forest, and I let him lead the way as he began looking for something to hunt. That partner of yours, he really was a cabrón, heading into wolf territory with only a bow on him... I knew there was a pack in the area the second we began riding through the trees, and I heard them come for us, for him." "What happened?" you question, your tone stern and curious. "I don't know," Flaco shrugs. "I heard the wolves go for him, I heard him cry out, but I didn't look back." "Do you think... is he?" "I don't know," Flaco repeats, shrugging this time. "But have you ever heard of anybody surviving being attacked by a pack of wolves?" "...No," you sheepishly reply. A deep sigh escapes your lips, and you have to bite at your tongue to stop yourself from crying. "I feel awful, but at the same time, I don't? I feel like... like I should... like I'm..." "Don't," Flaco interrupts you, "he deserves it, he got what was coming for him." Flaco pulls you against him, and you accept, resting your head on his shoulder as you find comfort in him once more. He's right, your partner did get what was coming for him. You've heard the phrase 'treat others how you want to be treated,' and well, he must have had a death wish considering the way he treated others, specifically you. Your body runs through every emotion, finding one that fits: Guilty? not really. Sad? not at all. Lonely? not any more. How about relieved? you're free, you're finally free, but for whatever reason, you're crying. "Hey," Flaco speaks up, catching your gaze. "It's okay to be confused," he tells you, and that's just the reassurance you were looking for, as if he was reading your mind. "It's going to take time, you're going to feel confused for a while, but Flaco promises you that you'll eventually feel better," he says with a smile, and chuckles as you practically pounce on him, climbing onto his lap and snuggling up to him once again. Flaco wraps his arms around you, and your cheeks turn red as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You suddenly feel so warm, so wanted, so loved, and you curl up in Flaco's lap, thanking him for saving you. "I didn't save you," Flaco tells you, "you saved yourself, I just had to give you a little push." "Or give him a little push," you correct him with a laugh. "I think it was his horse that did that," Flaco laughs with you. There are tears flowing from your eyes, yet you're smiling, finding so much more than comfort in this man. Flaco's right, you have saved yourself, and you're forever thankful that Flaco gave you the courage to do so.

#abuse #abuse tw #throw me to the wolves #rdrwriting #long fic #large fic #reader insert #f!reader #female reader #fem reader #flaco hernández #flachoes #flaco hernandez #rdo #red dead online #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #flaco hernández x reader #flaco hernández x you

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coldmorte · 2 years

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✧ Morning Frost ✧

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rockin-robinz · 3 years

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A Bluebird's Spooky Transformation

Halloween: Dick Grayson (Various Continuities)

Today is Halloween (31 October) and I thought it would be apropos to make a photoset of the many times (that I can remember) when Dick Grayson was transformed into a monster – either for the plot of the story or just for a Halloween variant cover.

Black Lagoon Creature: Grayson #13 Variant Cover by Claire Wendling (Upper Left)

Frankenstein's Monster: Grayson #3 Variant Cover by Jan Duursema (Middle Left)

Ghost: Injustice Gods Among Us: Year Three #17 by Xermanico (Lower Left)

Jokerized: Nightwing (Vol. 3) #16 Cover by Eddy Barrows, Eber Ferreira, and Rod Reis (Center)

Monster Man: Nightwing (Vol. 4) #6 Variant Cover by Ivan Reis, Oclair Albert, and Sula Moon (Middle Right)

Mummy: Detective Comics (Vol. 1) #320 by Sheldon Moldoff (Lower Right)

Skeleton: Nightwing (Vol. 2) #78 Cover by Brian Ewing (Lower Middle)

Vampire: Countdown Presents: The Search for Ray Palmer: Red Rain by Kelley Jones, Eric Battle, and Angel Unzueta (Upper Middle)

Zombie: DCeased #1 by Trevor Hairsine and Stefano Gaudiano (Upper Right)