#Cigarette cards rdr2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reddeadreference · 2 years

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Smoking and other Hobbies

-Click here to return to the index for Stranger Missions-

(This post includes photos of all cigarette cards but not locations)

Cards are listed and displayed in order from left to right, top to bottom. (ie. 1,2,3,4 not 1,5,7,10)

Amazing Inventions Card Set:

Steam Locomotive 1814 - George Stephenson

Camera 1814 - Joseph Nicephore Niepce

Electrical Execution Apparatus 1888 - H.P. Brown A. Kennelly

Typewriter 1829 - W.A. Burt

Revolver 1836 - Daniel Buck

Telegraph 1837 - Samuel Morse

Manned Glider 1893 - Charles Kinnear

Dynamite 1866 - Alfred Nobel

Cylinder Phonograph 1877 - Thomas Edison

Player Piano 1829 - Edward Leveaux

Electric Light Bulb 1876 - Thomas Edison

Fountain Pen 1884 - Lewis Waterman

Artists, Writers, & Poets Card Set:

Edith Corinne

Elsie Rose

W.G. Hoyt

Aldous Bramley

Preston T. Stephenson

Evelyn Miller

Slick Hutton

Laurence Carson

Miss Maud Delancey

Charles Châtenay

George Dixie

Richard McCullough

Famous Gunslingers Card Set:

Frank Heck

Otis Miller Boys

Jack Hall Gang

Butcher Brothers

Flaco Hernandez

Slim Grant

Landon Ricketts

Black Belle

Billy Midnight

Emmet Granger

Jim "Boy" Calloway

Bart Love

Fauna of America Card Set:

Black Widow Spider

Bloodhound

Bluejay

Catfish

Coral Snake

Grouper

Largemouth Bass

Panther

Parrot

Pheasant

Snapping Turtle

Turkey

Flora of America Card Set:

Golden Current

Hummingbird Sage

Oleander Sage

Yarrow

Indian Tabacco

Black Mangrove

Longleaf Pine

Desert Fan Palm

Coastal Redwood

Horse Crippler Cactus

Blazing Star

Carolina Lupine

Gems of Beauty Card Set:

Lelia Stentson

Isabelle Barlow

Hattie Langtry

Isabelle Standish

Maud Engel

Sadie Russell

Geraldine Emerson

Agnes Guyon

Jennie Willetts

Ilga Ulmer

Fay Delaro

Pauline Henderson

Horses Card Set:

American Paint

Appaloosa

Andalusian

American Standardbred

Nokota

Ardennes

Dutch Warmblood

Turkoman

Hungarian Half-bred

Mustang

Thoroughbred

Missouri Fox Trotter

Marvels of Travel Card Set:

Packet Ship

Schooner

Camel Caravan

Elephant Carriage

Goat Carriage

Hot Air Balloon

U.S. Frigate

The Showboat

Balener Whaling Vessel

Stagecoach

Steam Locomotive

Velocipede

Prominent Americans Card Set:

President Fisher

President Hardin

Lillian Powell

Leviticus Cornwall

JD McKnight

Luther Covington

Harvey Griggs

Henrietta Beatrice Woods

General Quincy Harris

General Cornelius Palmer

Senator Thaddeus Waxman

President Alfred MacAlister

Stars of the Stage Card Set:

Laurence Dunn

Louis Durand

Jesse Raymond

Augusta Tremlow

Mabel Potter

Robin Koninsky

Isadore Reid

Irene Grubb

Nettie Palmer

Jim Cobb

Mittie Comstock

Robert Elliot Patchen

Vistas of America Card Set:

New York

Saint Denis

Blackwater

Armadillo

Rio Bravo

The Grizzlies

San Francisco

Tall Trees

Valentine

Chicago

Rhodes

Annesburg

World Champions Card Set:

Greco Roman Wrestler - Percy Wood

Billiards - Edwin A. Rowe

Pugilist - Theobaud Getzin

Oarsman - H.T. Slocum

Cyclist - R.S. Harradon

Walker - E.D. Ewing

Lawn Tennis - Patsey Hill

Weightlifter - William Sleicher

Pigeon Shooting - Edwin Singerly

Skater - Felix Hawley

Hammer Thrower - Capt. Jack Page

Swinger - Axel McCormack

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Cigarette cards rdr2

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hoseass · 3 years

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Jack Marston, a young gunslinger, starts collecting cigarette cards (mainly the Famous Gunslingers set) to pass time and maybe earn some money, when one day he finds the picture of a man that he finds very vaguely, distantly familiar.

The name reads Arthur Morgan.

#neat. he thinks #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #jack marston #and as he pocketed the little picture card in his satchel #he seemed to fondly recall one time when he made a little flower-necklace for his mother #while his dad was fishing from the river nearby #or was it his dad? his memory betrayed him #he went about the rest of his day. and life. without another thought of that little card #which was still tucked safely into an empty pack of cigarettes #forgotten #just like the man on the front of the card himself

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top-lesbian · 4 years

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Cigarette Cards: Gems of Beauty: 1 - 6

Red Dead Redemption 2

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption online #arthur morgan #gems of beauty #cigarette cards #imma lesbian so...

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blatterburystreet · 3 years

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Famous Gunslingers Cigarette Cards: Mildred Martindale.

#cigarette cards #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead online #rdo #rdr2 #oc #original character #outlaws for life #Mildred Martindale #rdr2 fanart #my art #blatterbury #blatterbury street

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reddeadrevolutionn · 3 years

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I genuinely don't think I'll ever forgive R* for ending RDR2 the way they did

#i dont think I'll ever get over the fate of the VDL gang #I'm sat here crying whilst running around as john collecting cigarette cards #whilst listening to my RDR2 inspired playlist #which always makes me cry #rdr2 #reddeadredemption2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr

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boeperhaps · 2 years

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Broken Limb, Intact Trust

Summary: After his not quite fortunate escape from the claws of bounty hunters, the injured boy discovers the gang's growing suspicion around him.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: broken bones, blood, fainting, canon-typical violence, light angst

Word count: 2,312

a/n: a one-shot i wrote of teen dutch from the time he was running with colm n the jack hall gang (real hc-ish i tell you, but i love my boahs)

ao3 link

------------

"Ben, stop, you're killin' him!" Tony's shout burst out after he heard the audible snap, followed by the kid's ear-splitting scream.

His grasp instinctively tightened around Dutch's arms as he was holding the younger one's upper half to help him stay put.

The boy tilted his head back in pain, twitching and sobbing even harder.

His right leg was pulled apart. Some bounty hunters captured him who thought out the punishment of breaking it after he attempted to escape from them.

It was hurtin' like hell, nothing like he’d ever imagined, could've been that much of a torture. If this was the closest to what dying felt like, he wanted not one bit of it.

The throbbing of it reached the boy's head, making the rest of his body feel cold and weakened.

He swore if he had to look at this immeasurable pain's source again, he'd throw up.

Tony's sudden squeeze prevented him from silently losing his consciousness. He managed to catch some words like stop and killin', though he wasn't sure who or what it was about.

Ben wiped the sweat off his forehead, trying to think of every possible way he could help Dutch's worsening case.

He had his fair share of gunshot wounds, but dealing with a broken leg was relatively new to him.

"Ben, look, we gotta-"

"I'm trying."

"Wait, h...how bad is it? He's gettin' real pale 'ere."

"Please stop it already..." They heard the boy's faint begging.

"I know, Tony."

"But we ain't no doctors we're only gonna make it-"

"I know Tony just shut up for once! Boy broke his leg, he can't wait any longer."

"He's passin' out! Hey!" Tony carefully shook the boy's shoulder. "Dutch!"

"Huh?" he opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Tony's panicked face looking down at him.

"Dutch, can you feel your leg?" Ben asked firmly, with a hint of worry caught up in his tone.

"I don't know..." the younger one whined.

"Try to think, kid! Can you move it?"

"Do I look like I can- AAAHH! STOP IT!" Dutch let out a struggling wail, scraping the cold wooden floor he laid on.

Ben could hardly manage to block out Dutch's begging and crying and Tony's growing frustration. His hands clutched around the limb as he tried to hold the broken bone together.

"Okay, I reckon that's an answer to my question."

"Gh-go to hell…" the kid stuttered through gritted teeth as another tear ran down his cheek.

"We're gonna need bandage for him. And something to splint his leg... sticks, for instance. Where's Colm?"

"Hey- Colm!" Tony looked up from the floor, calling for the man in question, the only one who avoided involving himself in this recent unpleasant situation.

O'Driscoll had more important matters to attend to, as the others would say. He was standing outside, chewing on his newly lit cigarette as he leaned against the cabin's wall.

He almost finished sharpening his trusted hunting knife when he heard Tony calling to him from inside.

"Colm, get in here!" Tony's voice grew louder, showing his decreasing patience.

The door finally opened, and Colm entered the room, putting his knife back in its sheath. He gave a scornful look at the injured boy before his eyes landed on Tony. "What'cha want?"

"Little coffee would be nice." Tony sneered. "What do you think we need, huh?! Bring sticks, 'n clean clothes, we're splintin' Dutch's leg!"

"'Course, anythin' else the princess needs?" O'Driscoll mockingly spread his arms, voice sharp with sarcasm.

"Keep that attitude to Jack and Cliff when they arrive and find him dead." Ben intervened, not even looking up from the injured one's leg.

Unable to reply, Colm narrowed his eyes and spat on the floor instead.

"Pathetic. That's what y'all are." he left with these words hanging in the room.

Tony nearly felt the surviving strength leave Dutch's body as he held him.

Realizing he might not make it, the kid's thoughts began to rush even more.

Icy fingers gripped his ankle, nails digging into his skin, searching for flesh. It wasn't like the pain coming from the fracture or the feeling of Ben's palms. It was something else, something like his mother.

She was pulling him back, the same way she'd done the day he fled. He'd kicked his mother with that leg, and now she was taking it away from him in retaliation.

Hell, he was only a fifteen-year-old who just had his first taste of freedom. Why did he fight for all those months to scrape the money for a horse and run away, or the cougar thirsting for his blood? Leaving his mother in their cold cabin to die, to rot even more?

"Dutch?" Tony noticed the boy's shudder and needed just a glance to realize something even worse was going on with him than his broken leg.

"Have to...go...back…" the younger one's widened eyes were staring at the ceiling as he mumbled incoherently.

"Shit, he's losin' it!" Tony jolted, anxiously searching for Ben's gaze.

"We're out of time, give me his bandana!" Ben ordered after he perceived the boy's pale face, already cutting a piece from his shirt while saying the words.

Tony didn't have to be told twice.

He slipped the checkered scarf off Dutch's neck, making sure not to disturb him, and handed it to Ben, who immediately began to wrap it around the kid's leg after he applied pressure on the bleeding wound.

The door burst open as Colm barged in, holding two branches he found in his "hurried" 4 minutes.

"There were no-"

"Give it to me." Ben didn't wait for him to finish, just grabbed them out of his hands. "How is the kid?"

"I...I think he passed out."

---

The boy woke up in his bunk bed. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, the blurred memories of him didn't seem to align.

He remembered someone carrying him through the woods, indistinct shouting, doors banging, and hands holding his leg, warm and cold ones.

The oil lamp that the others lit for him was standing in the corner of the room, illuminating the wooden walls as it complimented their amber colors.

He glanced at his splint-up leg, with the crack sound echoing in his mind. It wasn't covered by the old blanket they put on him. Must've been Tony.

It was probably after dusk already, he couldn't see any light coming in from the windows.

Some loose strands of his coal dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, he didn't know whether it was due to the pain he felt or he'd caught a fever too.

His whole body was aching, making him afraid it might fall apart if he moved another inch.

He then heard voices coming from behind the shut door.

"I'm aware, I just…" Ben said something, but the walls didn't let the end of it come through.

The boy heard someone sounding like Jack. They’d arrived, Cliff was probably there too.

The gang had been discussing the incident long before Dutch regained his consciousness. Cliff was sitting near the fireplace, still warming himself up after their arrival. Ben leaned against the wall with his arms folded. Colm did the same. Tony was walking in circles next to Dutch's room as if he was guarding it, while Jack Hall, the leader of the gang, was standing at the old oak table, deep in his thoughts.

"We can't let something like this happen again. Bounty hunters breaking his leg… he's just a boy!" Jack muttered through clenched teeth.

"A boy who's robbing stagecoaches and threatening locals, his age matters nothing when he's a wanted criminal." Cliff argued.

"He'll heal, Jack. Unless he got himself an infection, it'll only get better." Ben assured him.

"Also, what are we gonna do with him?" Cliff was staring at the fire.

"He'll stay at camp till he's fully recovered." Jack replied but was cut off by the other.

"No, I meant… he probably talked."

"Huh?!" Tony froze mid-walking.

"That goddamn son of a BITCH-" Colm immediately jumped, heading towards the boy's room, ready to yank him out of his bed.

"Hey, hey, HEY-" Tony immediately tried to block the taller man's way, but Ben was the one who stopped him in the end.

"There's no use, O'Driscoll. He's still unconscious."

"You think I give a single- He ratted on us!" The younger man spat, aggressively pointing at the door behind Tony.

"You shut your trap Colm!" Tony shouted, pushing him away from the door.

"Enough, all of you!" Jack intervened. "We don't know anything yet. There's no point in painting the devil on the wall now."

"They tortured the boy, Jack, he might not even remember half the things they got out of him." Cliff reasoned, still standing his ground.

"That's… true."

"But- Jack!" Tony's eyes widened as he looked at the leader. He turned to Ben, who nodded in agreement.

"We can't be sure about it, Tony. There's a chance he gave 'em information." Ben spoke with a serious tone.

"You… you can't possibly say that, what's gotten into you, Ben?!" Tony's voice sulked in disbelief, searching for anyone to stand beside him, but none of them looked up. "To hell with you all!" He stormed out of the cabin.

A heavy, unpleasant silence took over the room. Everyone's thoughts were racing, including Dutch's, who heard it all.

He shouldn't have woken up.

---

Dutch let out a stretched yawn as he leaned on his crutch. It had been only minutes after sunrise, but he was already sitting on the log in walking distance of the camp. He often visited this place if he wanted to be alone with his thoughts while taking in the beauty of the mountains. And after the hell of the last four days had brought on him, he was glad he could’ve gone outside again.

"How ya doin'?" he heard a question from behind.

The boy turned his head Ben's way and waited for the older one to sit down beside him. "Still stings, that's for sure."

"No doubt." Ben took a sip from his coffee after giving a side-glance at the bandage. "After everything, I'm relieved this is the worst of the wound's act. When I first saw it, I thought you might lose it."

Dutch crossed his arms as he darted his eyes on the ground. He knew exactly what losing a limb was like. He knew too well.

"Have this cup o' coffee. It'll warm you up." Ben offered, mistaking the younger one's discomfort for feeling cold.

"You sure? Alright then."

The boy's furrowed brows softened as he shook his head. The freshly brewed, steaming coffee was a tempting offer, and Ben would've genuinely given it to him if he accepted it, but taking it away didn't seem right. Ben needs the energy more than I do, he's gotta protect the camp.

The two sat in silence, both breathing in the fresh morning air as they admired Ambarino's snowed-in mountain view. Only Ben's occasional sipping reminded them of their words waiting to be said.

"Why did you help me?" the boy then asked, eyes still gazing upon the valley below them.

Ben finished what was still left of his drink before he replied.

"There was no reason I wouldn't have helped you." Dutch's dumbfounded look broke the man into a smile. "What, you doubt it?"

"But- what if I ratted on you?" the boy raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Well did ya?" Ben mimicked the expression.

"I mean-" Filled with frustration, he began explaining with wild gestures. "I can confess or deny it all I want, none of that'd be of any use 'cause i...it's for you to decide!" He finished by pointing at Ben, who tried his best to take him seriously.

"You're sure showin' all signs of someone who betrayed his gang. You're too young to scheme, Dutch."

Dutch's answer was a stubborn pout.

"Even if those bounty hunters got anything out of you, I doubt it would cost any of us' heads. You don't know half the secrets of this gang."

"The others don't seem to think the same." the boy muttered.

"Cliff's skeptical, as usual, rather worried. And Colm, well, he's… Colm. He'd always be the first one to jump at you if suspicion like this arises. You'd do the same in his place."

"Probably not. But you'd doubt him, just like the rest of us."

"Well, I wouldn't threaten to kill him."

Ben was right. Colm seemed the type who'd scheme against them, judging by the way he treated other members, the way he stared down at him with utter disgust.

"I guess… but I still don't get why you ain't doing so with me then." He said, looking up at Ben.

"Well, it's because I trust you." The older man gave Dutch a head pat, pushing the drifter hat over the boy's eyes. "So do the others. You trust them, so they trust you." He let go with a gentle smile.

Dutch's eyes widened in the cover of his hat as he heard Ben's words, which made him fall silent. An old feeling, buried deep in his memories, embraced his heart. Warmth, was it? The longed warmth of belief, of certainty.

Uttering a word would've made him burst into tears, he raised a concealed smile instead.

"We should go inside, don't let your wound freeze that much." Ben stood up and helped the kid do the same.

Dutch took a last glance at the scenery before he followed Ben, who was already heading towards the cabin.

Chez Porter, this freezing hideout buried in the woods finally, began to secure him. It might've been rough and cramped, but till he was among these men, he swore he would fight for another day.

#this is like the first attempt of writing fellers who only exist on a cigarette card #and honestly it's quite neat i love em #same goes for the dumbass writin him's so fun #also can't write a fic without givin him headpats huh #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #dutch van der linde #rdr2 fanfic #jack hall gang hc #till the ends meet oneshots

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neon-junkie · 4 years

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hnghhgngh in that case would you do a fem version of the one Flaco fic where he cums inside the reader a whole lot hnghgnggh

it’s 6:30 in the morning and here i am, finally using this as an excuse to write some young!Flaco. i also adore the idea of Flaco being such a loose cannon and smug bastard in his younger days so gotta include that shit. also i have the hots for that bottle shooting mexican stranger u can find so mmmmmmmm <3 here u go :)

"It happened again!" Flaco snapped as he stormed into your cabin, the sound of his voice and your door slamming open making you jump. You should probably start locking your door during the day since Flacos big entrances are a common occurrence, always making you jump out of your skin.

"What happened?" you ask as you look up from your desk.

He's sulking, stood in front of you with his arms crossed. "That damn cabrón and his stupid bottles," Flaco grumbles as he pulls out one of the desk chairs, sitting next to you. "He beat me, again!"

Ugh, not this again. This isn't the first time Flaco's thrown a temper tantrum about being beat by this stranger that he keeps bumping into. Flaco's very eager to become the best gunslinger there's ever been. He's already famous, more so after that cigarette card company approached him, asking for his portrait for their famous gunslinger collection. The day he strolled into your cabin holding that card is a day you'll never forget; you'd never seen a man look so smug and proud, holding the little portrait of himself in front of your face. He spent hours staring at it, smiling at himself, making you shake your head.

"You'll get there," you sigh. It's hard to comfort a man when all he wants to do is scream at his own reflection. When Flaco's in one of these moods, you just let him burn himself out then comfort him afterward. Simply stroke his hair as he cuddles up to you and tell him over and over how impressive he is with his guns. That'll soothe him.

"It's stressing me out, chica," Flaco tells you.

"I can tell," you sarcastically reply.

"I need to burn off some steam. Will you help me?" Flaco asks you, his eyes meeting yours after he rubs his face, probably trying to rub the stress from his eyes, his hands brushing over his short stubble and round jawline.

"I'll do whatever you need, Flaco," you tell him. You were expecting him to take you hunting or help him practice his shooting, but it's a pleasant surprise when Flaco picks you up off your chair and carries you over to your bed, quickly chucking his jacket and hat to the floor before he begins his way with you.

And now you're here, face down on your bed, a pile of pillows underneath your hips that are thankfully more than enough to cushion you, preventing your hips from bruising even more as they're not slamming into the mattress. Flaco snaps his hips down into you again, grumbling behind you, holding his length deep inside of you as he pumps out another load.

You've been like this for what feels like hours, Flaco letting all his 'stress' out on you. You don't even think he's stressed anymore at this point, just over-stimulated and milking himself for all he's worth. You're not complaining though, loving the attention and Flaco's natural dominant aura. You haven't come as much as Flaco has, and you question how this man is still going after his fourth load? maybe fifth? who knows.

"You got room for one more?" Flaco grumbles from behind you, leaning down so he can speak against your ear, his large frame towering over you, the hairs on his chest brushing against your back.

"Mhmm, yes," you moan, knowing you have another orgasm on edge.

"Good, good. You're so good for me, chica. So obedient, such a buena niña," Flaco says as his hips begin moving again. "The way you're letting me use you like this is just... I have no words for it," Flaco sighs. "I might wife you, you know. No way am I ever going to find another woman who's so kind and tender, but loves being fucked like the puta she is," he chuckles.

You'd slept with Flaco the first night you met him. He'd seen you in the saloon and just had to have you. This was over a year ago, his personality being even more of a loose cannon than he is now. He strode over and fawned over you all night, though you never felt creeped out by his smothering. Maybe it was that gorgeous glisten in his eyes, or his over-powering height, or those fluffy chaps he wore. There was something about him that drew you to him, and ever since then Flaco's found himself waltzing into your cabin every few weeks, spending a few days with you every time.

Another snap of his hips draws you out from your reminiscence, bringing you back to the reality that you're currently in: being used as a cum dumpster for 'stress relief' by your sweetheart.

"You're quiet for once, amor," Flaco tells you, his voice lower and husker than usual. You adore him even more when he sounds like this, making your body tremble and your pussy ache.

"I'm just enjoying the ride," you reply, looking up over your shoulder to see Flaco smirking at you.

"You enjoying this? Having Flaco pump load after load into you?" he asks. You lift your body up slightly so Flaco can lean down and kiss along your neck, leaving another hickey next to the one from last week.

"Is it wrong if I do?" you ask, enjoying the way his stubble tickles your skin, not being scratchy for once.

"Not at all, amor. I love it as much as you do," Flaco tells you, lips still against your skin.

"I might have to stress you out myself if it means you'll fuck me like this."

Flaco lets out a chuckle. He snaps his hips against yours, pushing a yelp from your lips. Flaco then moves one of his hands off your hips, placing it firmly between your shoulder blades and pushing you back down into the mattress, your ass still raised in the air for him to enjoy.

Flaco fucks you with quick, deep thrusts, accidentally pushing his former loads out of you, his cum dripping from your hole, down over your clit, and onto your pillow. You'd normally kick up a fuss every time Flaco ruins your bedding, but you're not fussed right now as coincidentally, it was laundry day. You're definitely going to throw yourself into the wash after this, you'll need it.

The way Flaco rolls his hips is so perfect, brushing against your g-spot, pushing moan after moan from your lips. He adores the noises you make, letting out his own mix of a grunt and a moan, often through gritted teeth when he's fucking you as ferally as he is now.

"Mierda!" Flaco almost shouts as he continues to pound you. Yes, your pussy aches but you'll deal with that later. There's no way you're going to ask Flaco to stop for anything, even if the cabin was on fire.

You shift your weight, trying to slide your hand down your body but Flaco slaps your hand away. "Here, let me," he tells you, moving one hand from your hips to reach underneath you and firmly press on your clit, rubbing it just how you like it, making your thigh muscles tremble as you moan his name.

"That's right! Come on, chica. I love that feeling of you clenching around me. You'll do it once more for me, won't you?" Flaco asks. How could you deny him?

"Flaco, I'm close," you sigh, eyes shutting as the pressure builds up inside of you. "Fuck!" you yelp as your orgasm hits you, your body spasming as your walls tighten around Flacos' thick length.

He lets out a long moan, pushing his cock as far as it'll go, spilling one last load inside of you. Flaco seems worn out this time, leaning his body over yours, his sweaty forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he lets out a string of deep breaths. You can still feel his cock throbbing inside of you, pushing out whatever was left.

Eventually, Flaco comes down from his high and lifts his head up, placing a kiss on your back before he sits upright, pulling his length from you and rolling onto the bed. He's finally exhausted, his eyes shut as his chest rises and falls, trying to calm his racing heart down.

You pull the cover off your pillow, using that to wipe yourself down before chucking it to the floor to be dealt with later. Flaco already has his arm out waiting for you, so you snuggle up to him, practically lying on his chest. Your body begins to feel exhausted, and Flaco already looks like he's passed out from exhaustion. Surprisingly, he hasn't, as he places a kiss to your forehead.

"I don't think I'm stressed anymore, chica," he tells you, making you laugh.

"At least we know how to relieve you now," you add.

"Mhmm. I'll try not to get stressed too often. Don't want to wear you out too much," he tells you, placing another kiss to your forehead.

"How considerate of you," you joke.

"Only for you, amor."

The two of you are quick to fall asleep on each other, exhausted after todays session. At least you both now know how to calm Flaco down in the future.

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