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theleotarot · 9 months ago

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How Your Person Of Interest Sees/Thinks/Feels About You

Choose the image you are most drawn to or resonate most with… pile 1, pile 2, & pile 3 ✨

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Pile 1

(Knight of Pentacles, Nine of Pentacles, Three of Wands, Knight of Swords, The Unknown Card, Three of Swords, Mentor, Plane, & Thriving)

Hi Pile 1! Welcome to your reading. ♡

Your person of interest sees you as someone who is very hardworking in all areas of your life. Perhaps, right now you are pursuing a degree or job, or maybe you are working towards a goal that requires lots of resilience and financial responsibility. Your person sees you very successful as well. I am also getting this energy that they may think you are above them in some way, whether it be financially, emotionally, or mentally. I really think they do look up to you in every way regardless if you feel like you are struggling yourself or you feel like you can do better. They see you as someone who is very helpful to other people and the community. Your job or every day work may involve with interacting and helping people out, and this is confirmation that this is your pile! They might find you very funny and young at heart as well. I'm getting that some of you may not think you're funny, but your person definitely thinks that you are. I'm getting that you may be the type of person to also laugh things off when you feel scared or hurt, it's kind of like a coping mechanism, only for some. Besides that though, I really do think your person sees you as someone who radiates bright energy and that's why people and even animals enjoy being around you. Not only they see you as bright energy, but they also see you as someone who attracts very much positive things into your life, again, abundance, school, work, you name it. What your person thinks about you is that you have a huge future ahead of you, and you have the ability to achieve your goals if you just go for it. I believe that they also think that you are very good with your words. Again, I keep getting this energy from your person of interest that they do not think they are as good as you. Honestly, I feel like they are intimidated by your potential and success. I believe that your person is going through something difficult or heartbreaking. It may be because of a separation, insecurities, or any kind of past trauma, but it is unknown. I think that this difficulty they are facing has an affect on how they feel about you. I do think that their feelings for you are developing though. I think that this person just cannot show your their full interest or attention because they need to focus on themselves more. Even though they are facing their own difficulties, I do believe you cross their mind, and their feelings for you have potential in growing into something bigger within time. Overall, I feel like your person sees you as a light in their life. They really look up to your for your positivity and ambitions. I think that once they get their life together and feel better about themselves, their feelings for you will escalate and they will start to show how they truly feel.

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Pile 2

(Ten of Wands, Ten of Cups, The Fool, King of Wands, Eight of Swords, The Magician, Shape-Shifter, Flowers, & Transformation)

Hi Pile 2! Welcome to your reading. ♡

Okay pile 2, before I start your reading, I just want to say that this is the sweetest pile. 🥺 Okay let's carry on. Your person sees you as someone who carries or has carried a lot of baggage on themselves. Perhaps, you have struggled financially or educationally, or you have really struggled with your family or friend relationships. I also get this energy from you that part of your baggage has something to do with the fact that you always put others as a priority rather than yourself. You are always sacrificing yourself, even if it costs you your happiness. Even though you've been through so much emotional baggage, you continue to persevere through adversity, and your person of interest definitely sees this about you. They see how hard your life has been, yet you find the power to proceed with your life, and they find this absolutely inspiring about you. It's like, you have the choice to stay in despair and yearn for a better life, but you choose the opposite and make changes to your life to be happy instead. Your person sees that you have amazing grit and can also adapt to your environment, whether it be difficult or easy. They might also see you as someone who is very emotional and someone who wants to have their own family and children in the future. They can see you feminine as well. The way that your person sees you is very warm and precious. There are lots of pink and purple in your reading pile 2, so this means that your person sees you very delicate and they are really romantically connected with you too. I think they think you are confident in your actions as well, and whatever risks or actions you take, you are able to go through with it. I think your person thinks you're very playful as well. Even though sometimes you may feel stressed or upset about certain things in your life, your person knows that inside of you, at the very core of you, you are actually a very warm, delicate, loving, affectionate, and playful individual. I think that they believe that you deserve the best, pile 2, especially since you've gone through so much. They also think of you as a flower. Not only are they beautiful and delicate, but they're also a product of growth and transformation. Your person not only sees you for your beauty but for also all your hard work, tenacity, and sacrifice. Pile 2, I believe that your person has very romantic feelings for you, but they do not know how to come forward with it towards you. I believe that they want to turn your bond with them into something more, but they are intimidated at the same time. I think that maybe you have a chance to come forward instead, and this will save your person a headache lol because they feel for you so much. One more message I'm getting is that they see you as a butterfly. Again, you have transformed so much in your life. You may have felt stuck in the past and over worried, but you will grow into your wings and you'll be set free to fly. Your reading is beautiful pile 2. Your person deeply feels for you.

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Pile 3

(King of Pentacles, The Hermit, The Star, Seven of Cups, The Tower, Four of Wands, Servant, Unity, & Protection)

Hi pile 3! Welcome to your reading. ♡

Your person of interest finds you very, very attractive, and maybe even very addicting pile 3! I say this because The Devil card popped out twice in the back of the deck. You're quite appealing to them I would say. 😏 Anyway, I think you give off independent vibes to your person. You're very successful, and you're independent. You're not a loner, you're in solitude. There's a big difference between those two. I think they see you as someone who does not take bs either (I'm getting that some of you here are more mature so I can insert bs here lolol). I think they see you as someone very helpful to others. Maybe you are a people pleaser, for some? I just got that. Your person also might see you as quite mysterious. You may be more of the quiet type, and they are intrigued by you. They just want to know more and more about you. I get the feeling that your person also thinks that you may have a lot of people lined up for you in regard to romantic partners. Your person may think that they don't even have a chance with you because you're so hot lol. They do think of you as a star though. You radiate light in their life, and I think that they may admire you from a distance, and they keep their feelings to themselves at times. I think that when you or if you have conversations with them, they will feel very emotionally connected with you. Your conversations with them are easy, and they feel like they can open up to you about pretty much anything comfortably. I think this is what separates you from others. You just get them in a way that no one else does, this pertains to your conversations with them, as well as your looks. 😉 One random thing, I think they might like your hands lol. Your person's feelings for you are strong pile 3, it's a given here. I think they did not expect to be this attracted to you though. Maybe some people here are in a work or classroom environment with your person, and your relationship with them could almost feel "taboo" but they can't help but be so drawn to you. Another situation I’m seeing here is a friend dynamic. Just take what resonates. I think that your person does really want something more with you though. I think if you two were together, they would really make it known to the world that you are theirs and they would celebrate your love lol. They also feel very protective over you. Even if you are already strong on your own and independent, your person still wants to be the one to protect you at all costs and even be your knight in shining armor. I believe that your bond with this person does have potential to lead to something more pile 3, even if you do not talk to them, the both of you still have potential together. Overall, they are so attracted to you pile 3. Do you ever have that person that you like so damn much that they are ruining your life???!! Yeah, that's you to them. Lol.

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#tarot reading #love reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pac #love pac #oracle #oracle reading #free tarot reading #crush reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #daily tarot

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ominous-horse-noises · 6 months ago

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im ab to be annoying ab dimension20 fhjy but im genuinely loving the character arcs for the bad kids this season?

kristen going from self-annihilatingly stupid to trying to build a genuine bridge with the man who not only wielded the religion that traumatised her (bobby dawn), but also was trying to ruin her life, just bc she thought a grieving father ought to be comforted in some way? her genuine distress at being unable to revivify buddy even though the two had only had negative interactions, or her biting her tongue in front of her parents so she could better look after her little siblings? grappling with the fact that she still, on some level, expected practising religion to be easy and convenient for her as a holdover from an entire childhood spent being a Chosen One, and finally putting her nose to the grindstone and committing to working her ass off for a deity that couldn't even benefit her for a hot minute? making an effort to be cordial with tracker's new gf and letting go of that codependency? the kristen applebees from ep20 would NOT do all the same stupid shit as ep1 and i love that.

fabian being humbled by the narrative again and again has been an absolute treat for his character. the whole ivy/mazey situation was great: freshman/sophomore year fabian would've gone for ivy no sweat, i mean her character seemed pretty similar to pre-redemption aelwyn and he had a huge crush on her then. but this time, when he realised he'd hurt a genuinely great person, and intentionally swallowed his pride to make it up to mazey, even though it required him being 'uncool' with the whole twister thing. his general arc of learning that earnestness and humility doesn't make him less of a man felt like a natural extension of fabian defining his own version of masculinity- sure, a 'maximum legend', but also someone deeply involved in the arts, and someone who is less afraid of saying sorry and being vulnerable in front of someone he likes

fig. fig fig fig. what a woman. its been absolutely fascinating watching build her sense of identity over these three seasons. at her core, fig is a character that loves so deeply. in freshman, she was terrified of the depth of her own devotion, so she tried to distance herself emotionally from everyone. in sophomore, she built herself around that love for other people. in junior year, fig's arc has been learning she can do both: that she's defined by her love for others, but not solely by it. ik emily wanted to retire the character before this season but i think fig's paladin arc was the best capstone to her journey possible.

gorgug's arc has been about establishing clear boundaries for himself and i love it. im aware there's been some Discourse ab the mango soda scene but to me that was pretty easily chalked up to teenage insecurity. a big part of gorgug's arc was trying to believe in himself when everyone around him told him he was too dumb to follow his passion- imagine struggling in an area that you have no natural aptitude for, and someone comes along and also trounces you in the one area you thought you were the best in. i'd be petty and reactive too (gorgug follows up calling her a freak with the fact that she beat the shit out of him, so its clearly him just still smarting from a bruised ego and not actual malice). in general, i've really like gorgug learning to put his foot down and say enough is enough without completely losing his gentleness.

adaine hasnt had an obvious arc, but considering she addressed most of her baggage in the first two seasons, i'm not surprised. i would've liked to see the other bad kids address her 'teenage adult' behaviour, but her self-awareness about it and relying on fabian to pull in clutch for the oracool stuff still felt like she'd learned to rely on her friends at least + her reaching out to aelwyn and the two of them healing from their parents together has been rewarding it its own right.

riz is perfect and has learned nothing. his neuroticism is part of his natural swag

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #dimension 20 fhjy #dimension 20 #adaine abernant #figeroth faeth #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #riz gukgak

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erinisgoddess · 1 month ago

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PAC: love forecast for the rest of fall

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ my carrd, pinned post! if this reading found you, it's for a reason, today we'll be looking at how the rest of your fall looks in terms of love. what is in store for you?

focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. choose a image that you feel the most drawn to, or the one you can’t stop looking at. trust your intuition. take what resonates and leave the rest behind.

✧ 𝑃𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝑂𝑁𝐸

you are entering a time of deep emotional healing, where the need to let go of past hurt and emotional baggage will be unavoidable. you’ve been carrying these burdens for too long, and now is the moment where spirit gently encourages you to release them. it might feel challenging at first, as there’s often comfort in holding onto what’s familiar, even if it no longer serves you. but as you begin to loosen your grip on the past, you’ll start to feel lighter, more open to new possibilities. this isn’t about rushing the process, but rather allowing yourself to heal at your own pace. this period is all about rediscovering what makes your heart sing, what brings true joy and fulfillment. you may have forgotten those feelings for a while, buried under layers of old pain, but now you’re being called to step into a brighter, more joyful phase of your life. trust that in letting go, you’re making space for something new and beautiful to enter your world. this is your moment to embrace the future with a heart that’s ready for renewal.

✧ 𝑃𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝑇𝑊𝑂

you are moving toward a space where relationships and connections will take center stage, particularly those that have faced strain or tension in the past. reconciliation may be on the horizon, but it won’t come without introspection and effort. there will have been misunderstandings, moments where you and others weren’t seeing eye to eye, but now you’re being invited to pause and reflect. this isn’t about rushing to fix things but about taking the time to truly understand the deeper needs of both yourself and the people in your life. the love you seek will require patience and vulnerability, and while it may not come easy, it will be worth the effort. this phase will ask you to step out of your comfort zone, to have the hard conversations, and to rebuild bonds that have been strained. you’ll find that through this process, a deeper, more meaningful connection is possible. it’s not just about patching things up but about creating a solid foundation that can weather the storms. spirit is gently guiding you toward a place of healing and emotional fulfillment, reminding you that love, when nurtured, can grow even stronger after hardship.

✧ 𝑃𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸

you are stepping into a period of transition, where the path ahead might seem clouded by uncertainty and indecision. it’s as if the ground beneath your feet is shifting, and you’re not entirely sure which way to go next. this can feel disorienting, but spirit is reminding you that this period of uncertainty is not a setback—it’s an invitation to explore new possibilities. you’ll feel as though life is presenting you with a series of choices, yet the answers may not be immediately clear. this is a time for deep reflection, for considering what truly aligns with your heart and your highest good. it’s important to trust yourself during this process, even when the way forward feels unclear. you’re being guided to break free from any illusions or confusion that have been clouding your judgment. through this, you’ll rediscover your inner strength and learn to trust your instincts again. it’s not about rushing to find answers but about sitting with the unknown and allowing clarity to emerge naturally. the more you embrace this period of introspection, the more empowered you’ll become to make decisions that lead you toward a more fulfilling and authentic future in love.

✧ 𝑃𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅

you are entering a transformative phase of deep healing, where the focus will be on letting go of the past and reclaiming your sense of self. there may have been emotional wounds, disappointments, or even betrayals that left you feeling isolated or disconnected. but now, spirit is gently guiding you through a process of recovery. this won’t happen overnight, and it may feel like you’re slowly piecing yourself back together, but each step you take will bring you closer to wholeness. it’s a time for reflecting on the past—not to dwell in the hurt, but to understand it, to learn from it, and to let it go. as you release these old emotions, you’ll begin to feel a sense of freedom, a lightness that comes from no longer carrying the weight of old wounds. this period is also about rebuilding your confidence and rediscovering your own worth. you’ll find that as you heal, your sense of inner strength and self-love will grow, allowing you to move forward with a heart that’s open to new possibilities. spirit is encouraging you to be gentle with yourself during this time, to honor the journey you’ve been on, and to trust that this process of healing will lead you to a place of greater peace and empowerment.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 every reblog & like are very appreciated. thank you lovelies for everything. check out my pinned & carrd!

if you liked this reading & want more, paid readings opening up november 1st!

have a lovely day!

#pac #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a card #free tarot #tar #t #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot

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artsninspo · 1 month ago

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FORGIVELESS - X - GOT A COUPLE THAT'S OUTSIDE, THEY KILL ABOUT ME THOUGH 🪦

Full Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

RIO MASTERLIST

MOODBOARD 🖼️

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~4.3K

Warning: Same as all the others for the most part, mentions of violence and un-aliving someone.

Summary: Picking up where we left off. Rio and the Reader try to establish a new normal until the reader gets a call regarding James. Having had his fill of the back and forth Rio finally makes himself known to James and puts an end to the chaos.

X - GOT A COUPLE THAT'S OUTSIDE, THEY KILL ABOUT ME THOUGH 🪦

The dread of returning home to a less than ideal reality is coursing through your veins. It’s so overwhelming you can feel something is coming in your bones. The fight to maintain your centre is active. You haven't practised yoga in more than a week and you have not maintained your meditation rituals. A hand splays over your thigh offering comfort and affection along with a kiss on the top of your head as you rest your head on his chest. You can't help but wonder how he knows that right now you're in need of affection as your mind drifts. The plane starts its descent and you place your hand over Rio’s. You wish you were happier, especially after all the effort he’d put into your excursions the day prior but it feels like that ship has sailed with those bullshit messages. Closing your eyes you sigh deeply regretting the grace you’d given him. You regret not going postal, not showing up to his job, not kicking and screaming, not telling his mother, bleaching his clothes, the whole nine yards. Clearly, he has no intentions of sparing you or maintaining your reputation. Swallowing you decide the gloves are all the way off. Cheating back just didn't seem to cut it. You’d have to hop down to the depths to meet him at his level. You sit stewing without knowing Rio has already taken care of it. He’d gotten the message confirmation before you’d left the villa this morning. It was part of the reason why he found himself capable of smiling. As soon as the plane landed he knew there would be more details. He needed James down and incapable of bothering you for at least the next month. From here on out he’d let you decide the next courses of action - unless James gets out of pocket again. You and Rio leave the airport side by side. His assertive energy is quite the thing to experience in person. People just seem to give him respect. The airport staff nod at him in acknowledgement. People come over to help him when he needs help and he delegates efficiently finding an attendant to get your bags off the baggage carousel paying them handsomely to lift the bags and push the cart. He doesn't break a sweat keeping you close. You watch him in awe as he moves with precision and purpose; you end up at a part of the airport you don’t recall ever coming across as your bags are transferred to a new attendant.

“Hey man, table for two” Rio says and your eyes bulge in horror when you realise where you are. It's a five star restaurant.

“Rio, I’m in loungewear” you whisper.

“Let me find out you're trying to impress someone else” he comments and you shake your head. “You look beautiful” he smiles as we are seated in a private area. Everyone else is well dressed.

“Thank you, it's just …”

“Mama, me being able to get my girl in a restaurant I don’t own in her pyjamas is boss shit” Rio says and you feel your cheeks burn.

“Ha, Ha! You've seen my pj’s, this is loungewear” you correct.

“Whatever you say” he shrugs and you look away laughing as a server comes over pouring you a delicious smelling tea.

“The boss will be right out, if you need any help with the menus let me know. We’re happy to make any substitutions you may require. If you need anything click the button on the table and I'll be right out” the man explains. Overwhelmed you hand Rio your menu.

“Please order what you think I’ll like” you tell him and he smiles proceeding to do just that on your behalf. The server smiles and disappears. It’s clear he has great taste and only likes the best of the best, everywhere he goes he’s treated with the utmost consideration.

“I had a dinner planned for us last night” he confesses. It’s clear Rio is upset about having to pivot because of James. Your first instinct is an apology but you reconsider it knowing Rio doesn't expect one.

“I wish things happened differently,” you confess. “I know it would have been gorgeous” you smile and he nods.

“It was, and I was going to ask you to be my girl because I figure being clear is the best thing for both of us. I know you’ve got a lot going on and I know you’re trying to be happy but it’s okay if you’re not. Fuck shame and James the joke. Soso said I need to be more sensitive” he says.

“Soso?”

“Marisol” he corrects and you smile at his soft side and Marisol’s consideration of you. “Anyway, I’m not ashamed of shit we got going on or what you’re dealing with. I want you to be my girl. I enjoy our time together and I’m not running from shit” he shrugs.

“I had no idea they even made men like you” you remark out loud, thankful for him. Rio smirks, raising a brow.

“Like what?” he asks and you reach across the table to take his chin.

“No words” you smile, giving him a quick peck. “Of course I’ll be yours.” You respond sitting back down. Rio smiles.

“Good” he nods and the waiter brings out a delicious plate of food you absolutely love. Rio shares some of his with your and you with him. Before dinner is over he leaves to speak with the owner. You relax in your seat and check your phone to see a message thread with Tia already making plans for the two of you to go shopping. It’s how Rio finds you and you leave the restaurant and end up at the valet where his car is waiting already loaded with your luggage. You arrive at his place forty-five minutes later. It’s so clean it looks staged.

“I didn't forget about you getting your own place” he comments, watching you hesitate. Shacking up had been against your constitution since before you and James had gotten serious. James, you shake your head knowing you're gonna have to confront him over what he did. You’re gonna have to move your things out.

“I’m in no rush. I’m gonna call my mom and tell her we got in okay” you tell Rio.

“Bet, I have a meeting across town in two hours. I’m going to get ready and head out.” he says leaving you to it.

Settling into the extra deep cushions you look around at the pristine place that feels slightly sterile. It's the level of perfection that doesn't make it feel lived in. You call your mom and she picks up on the third ring.

“Hey Ma, we landed safely.” you tell her.

“Good baby girl” she says but her voice sounds off.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just got a call from James’ mother.” she says and your eyes close as the irritation mounts. That gag order might be necessary after all.

“Yay” you mutter sarcastically.

“Are you sitting down?” Ma asks and your eyes open as you sit forward.

“Yes?” you ask concerned.

“Apparently James was in a fight last night. It went badly for him and he’s in the hospital suffering pretty badly if she’s not exaggerating. They spent the night and all morning calling you until James was lucid enough to have them call his mother. She's furious and wouldn’t let me get a word in.” Your mom explains rocking your world.

“She’s blaming me isn't she?” You ask and your mothers silence is telling. “Why doesn't he call his girlfriend?” you question your mother.

“He wants you and she’s her son's advocate in light of your absence let her tell it” your mom explains. Sighing deeply you look at the ceiling.

“What was he thinking? Starting a fight?” you question.

Your mom sighs “I don’t know…”

“What do you think I should do?” you ask in need of guidance.

“Do what feels right” she says, being no help. Sexual healing with RIo is what feels right. But you leave your mom out of that truth sighing deeply. You resent James more and more every waking moment it seems.

“I guess I’ll go” you say finally. “Guess I’ll take this time to move my things out too”

“I’m coming down, i’ll get a hotel and we can sort it out together” she says.

“Thanks mom” you sigh in relief.

“No problem my love, let me get things sorted and I’ll call you later. Call me if you need anything” she offers.

“I will love you mommy, sorry you’ve become my secretary” you tell her.

“No problem, I've been cleaning up your shit since you were in diapers. It’s what I signed up for” she jokes, making you laugh.

“Hopefully, you get a break again really soon” you smile.

“Only a tiny one, I want some grandbabies,” she says.

“Ma!” you laugh.

“After the divorce is finalized of course, and you’re in a happy healthy marriage” she specifies.

“The shitty fumes must be getting to you. Light a candle, open a window, get some fresh air and I’ll call you later” you tease joking with her.

“Love you, bye” she says hanging up and you do too. Rio emerges dressed in his signature all black and you feel terrible for throwing yet another complicated issue his way.

“What is it?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

“I need a key” you tell him.

“My housekeeper got one cut,” he says. “Where are you headed?” he asks.

“To the hospital James got into something. I’m his emergency contact, he’s in bad shape and asking for me, it’s this whole thing” you explain not wanting to be in this situation.

“I don't think he deserves to see you,” Rio says angrily.

“I’m not sure he’s seeing much of anything with how bad it seems he was beat up.” you tell Rio.

“I don't think you should go after the shit he’s pulled” Rio stands his ground.

“I know, I’m going to go though. I can't keep running from my problems. If I go, he and his mom can say whatever. I can remove myself from all necessary non-legal documents for the time being and then I can tell her I'm going to move out my things and to stop calling my mom. Moving forward all communications will be handled through email until I retain legal counsel” you explain and Rio finds himself smiling.

“Boss shit” he comments.

You snicker. “I have a good teacher”

“Who? I’m not doing all that talking” Rio asserts.

“Take my car and call me if anything you don't like happens” Rio offers.

“You have a meeting. I’ll wait” You respond not wanting to be a distraction.

“Baby, I’m the boss, there's no meeting without me,” Rio says and you laugh, shaking your head at him. Everything about him is so sexy to you. There's no apology for owning who he is and you pinch his cheek.

“I love that about you” you smile honestly and in a second you clam up. The L word. But Rio doesnt clam up, it’s music to his ears.

“Don’t start or we’ll be here all day if I have to list the things I love about you” he says, giving you a kiss as he stands with his heart racing like a kid. His smile is reassuring, affirming you're alright.

“Maybe some other time then” you recover and he nods, coming back with car keys and a house key for you.

“Go handle your business mama” Rio smirks, willing to let you leap. Your lungs fill with air and you nod knowing he’s there to catch you.

You feel yourself tugging at the hems of your long sleeves as you walk into the eerie hospital environment. The stark whites and fluorescent lighting clash with the depth of Rio’s home decor. No longer in his presence you don't feel as strong or as sure footed. If James has done anything over the past month, it's been turning your life upside down. After years of keeping things close to the chest, what he pulled last night was the very last thing you ever thought he would do. You guess karma is funny that way because it’s him and not you that acted the ass only to be beat up so bad hospitalisation is required. Following the directions from the information desk you find yourself in a unit that smells absolutely disgusting. You hold your breath until you grab a mask from the wall only to freeze once it's on. James’ mother Gladys watches you with folded arms. His father James Senior sits outside the room with his head down instead of pointed at you.

“Someone call my wife!” you hear James shout from inside one of the rooms. His voice is strained and the pain in it is unmistakable.

“Get your ass in there!” His mother screams near tears.

“Gladys” Senior hisses, he’s the king of time and place. Years of trying to please his family nearly makes you rush into the room with your head down, but the time of putting James your needs ahead of everyone else's is done.

“Gladys I’d like to speak to you” you swallow standing your ground.

“We can talk after you go in and tend to your husband.” Her tone is sharp but it no longer cuts.

“If you don't want to talk now I can leave and I won't be coming back” you swallow standing firm.

“Y/N, he’s in pain, one of his eyes is swollen shut and his neck is sprained from how hard he was hit. His breathing is impeded by a few cracked ribs according to x-rays and he’s got a fractured ankle.” Senior says. It’s a surprise, you've never heard of someone so severely impacted from a fight. All that muscle and it turns out he’s made of glass.

“How many people fought him?” you ask.

“Two” Senior responds and you swallow. “He wants to see you, that's all he wants. I know you two are having a rough patch-”

“He’s been cheating on me for six months. Please don’t deny it. I saw the photographs and messages between them. She knew and would talk about me like trash. James didn't defend me. It’s the truth and if he thinks I'm so crazy to make things up then that's another reason we should be divorced.” You tell his father frankly.

“He’s a successful man and you want for nothing, give a little, have a heart” His mother says, shaming women everywhere. As painful as it is, you're grateful that James and his family are in the past now.

“He’s been harassing me for the past week and a half. I had to change my number. The only reason I left is because he nearly put hands on me. Dragged me out of the car when I tried to leave him. A cop broke it up. It’s documented if you don't believe me. He’s been harassing my mother too and cyberstalking me. He’s sending horrible messages to the people I spend time with telling them I’m having an affair, that I’m crying out for attention and mentally unstable.” You vent and while Gladys looks like she doesn’t believe it, Senior seems less reluctant to accept your truth.

“He shouldn’t get physical,” Senior says, drawing the line in the sand somewhere. It’s a decent start toward progress.

“Or harass and stalk me” you add.

“He’s fighting for you Y/N, out of everyone he’s been calling for you non stop. He’s made a mistake but he loves you and I know you love him. You've been married for years, don't let a lapse in judgement or another woman take that from you. He probably let the world or his colleagues get in his head.” Senior says with excellent spin. Maybe two months ago it would have worked. Maybe if he’d ended things without the pressure of your awareness. Maybe if he’d treated you better or reacted differently but not now, not after he’s done so much to hurt you.

“She can have him because if this is how he loves - I don't want it” You swallow pushing the door open. Looking at James sympathy swells in your core. Half of his face is so swollen he’s nearly unrecognisable. He can barely handle the flu so you know this is hell for him.

“Baby” he smiles, erasing every drop of empathy in you.

“No baby, Y/N” You correct sitting in the chair and he smiles while shaking his head.

“What are you playing at? What took you so long?” He asks, trying a smile, it's hard to tell with the swelling.

“James pretending to have amnesia is beneath even you. Don’t make this worse than it needs to be with the pet names. I’ve had enough Jekyll and Hyde from you to last a lifetime” you comment with thinning patience. James’ eyes hold yours for a long while before he relents.

“I’m not gonna stop fighting for us” is what he says first.

“Yes you are, I’m gonna go to the house this week and get my things and you're going to stop contacting me and anyone I associate with.” you explain.

“You're my wife Y/N” he snaps.

“Call Japan, get down on one knee for her when you can manage it” You comment and the hint of cruelty in your disregard for his current predicament is not lost on James.

“So you can be with a club owner? I mean if you’re pissed with me for cheating what do you think he’s gonna do?” James deflects.

“No one I associate with is your business. James, why don't you understand that I’m trying to be civil when what I should do is crash out after the shit you pulled yesterday. That message was abhorrent and grounds for me to file for a restraining order which I may have to still since you're committed to thinking this divorce is a joke” you snap.

“It is, you can't afford to leave me” he threatens.

“No James, you can't afford to lose me but it’s too late. I hope you treat the next woman better, if you get lucky enough.” You stand.

“You won't get anything good in the divorce we don’t have kids!” He says playing his last card.

“Thank God, co-parenting with an asshole like you would be a life sentence” you comment.

“Fuck you” he sneers and the machine he’s attached to starts beeping.

“Have fun pissing into a cup” You shoot back as his mother rushes in.

—----

Later that night

Sitting in the dimly lit room Rio can't recall the last time someone had him this out of character. But James was new to the city after all. How could he know who he was dealing with in all his arrogance. It was his arrogance that made this all easier for Rio. Getting him handled was just a phone call. Sitting he looks ahead at the imbecile that was stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers. Up close and personal with James it was clear the man couldn't differentiate between an asset or liability. He had a wife that was happy to please him, out of the way, good cook with great pussy and a heart of gold. He’d traded into a clear cut VVS diamond for one of those huge lab grown stones. He’d an heirloom for aesthetics, gold for fools gold, and now he was grasping at straws. Being fed pain killers intravenously to quell the beating that was the result of him acting out. Looking down at his gloved hand Rio looks to the gold gun, it always did the trick. Got people where he wanted them quickly. Got their undivided attention and guided them to compliance. Sitting forward he butts the hospital bed arm rails with his gun twice before sitting back in the seat. James only stirs sleepily, rapping twice more, Rio watches as the man stirs looking around only to go from sleepy to scared. Rio watches as James sits up only to wince and hiss. His hands reach for the button to call the nurse but Rio has already switched it off. It takes James a moment to realise help isn't coming only for panic to fill his eyes at the sight of the gun laying on his lap.

“I - I - I” James begins but the first two tries are hoarse. He swallows before continuing. “IIIII, I didn't mean whatever I said or did, I was wasted” he manages. Displeased with his skills of deduction Rio says nothing as he watches him fight to sit up in disgust.

“You have two choices,” Rio says finally. “Option One: You refuse option two and I pay one of these underpaid and overworked nurses to inject something to make your life miserable into this bag. More miserable than you are already.” Rio swallows. “Two, you leave Y/N alone and sign the divorce papers”

“How the fuck do you know my wif-” Rio is quick and presses the iron against Jame’s skull.

“Keep talking crazy” Rio smiles, pulling the gun back to screw on a silencer. Once it's fastened he returns his attention back to James. “What were you saying?” Rio asks with his head tilted, wishing James would give him one more reason. Instead of a response the coward swallows. Rio smirks, returning to his seat placing the gun on the tray beside him and giving James his attention once again.

“I mean I get it. I dont get why you cheated but I get you fighting for her. I mean …” Rio nods to himself. “It’s the way she looks at me when she hasn't seen me for a bit” Rio starts chipping away at James' resolve. “The way she calls when she needs something, her little walk, hell I don't even care about her shit crowding the counters in the bathroom” Rio taunts watching James’ patience wear down.

“So you’re her rebound” James grits.

“Rebound is better than the guy who fumbled her. Rebound has her in bed begging for more almost every night.” Rio continues.

“Enough” Jame’s grits.

“I mean I guess you know how good her pussy is, fan-fucking-tastic. I’ll probably suck her dry when I get home and then give her a son” Rio says, hitting the right nerve.

“Fuck you!” James snarks, making Rio smile.

“She probably ain’t post these to spare your ass but since youre a nosy fuck take a look” Rio says getting his phone to a few of the video’s they’d taken on the trip. James closes his eyes at the sight of Rio grabbing your boob while in a bikini in the water together before you kiss. “Aww, what's wrong? It’s no fun when I have the gun?”

“I’ll sign the fucking papers” James grits.

“Ay man, she was always gonna get the divorce whether you were here on earth or in hell” Rio mutters keeping James aware of the existing power dynamic. “Matter of fact, you're gonna send everyone you sent the last bullshit message this one and post it to your story” :

Hello,

I’m writing with a heavy heart to clarify my previous message regarding the affair between your cousin and Y/N. I realize now how misguided and hurtful my words were, driven by my own insecurities and shame.

The painful truth is that I am the one who had an affair for six long months with someone named @JapanJacobs. In my selfishness, I completely neglected my role as a husband and failed to be the partner Y/N deserved. I can’t express how deeply sorry I am for the emotional turmoil I’ve caused her.

I must admit that I also became aggressive with her during our struggles, which only pushed her further away. When she finally asked for a divorce, it sent me spiralling into a manic state that I couldn’t control. I was lost and scared, and I lashed out in my confusion.

I am currently seeking serious help for my mental health and undergoing an evaluation, but I know it may be too little, too late. I am truly ashamed of my actions and the pain I’ve inflicted, not just on my wife but on all of you as well.

I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess and for speaking poorly of Y/N, who has shown me nothing but kindness. I feel utterly pathetic for what I’ve done, and I can only hope for forgiveness, even though I know I don’t deserve it.

Thank you for your understanding during this difficult time.

Sincerely,James

Looking up from the screen James can hardly speak again. “I’m not sending that!” he snaps scornfully. His pride would not allow it.

“I think you are and I bet you don't tell anyone about my visit either. Won’t make you look too sane. Promise you this, if I have to deal with another frown from something you did to my woman you won't walk again. You try something slick and your pops will be in the morgue first. You should’ve respected your beauty but now you’ve woken up a beast.” Rio stands as James’ night nurse enters. Rio waits for James to cry foul but he doesn't. Nodding Rio gives the nurse her cue. A sleep draft is administered and before James can make any stupid decisions he’s forced into a temporary sleep. The messages are sent, the story is posted and Rio leaves the hospital having snatched away all James’ power, safety and ego. According to the nurse, recovery would take at least six months which would be enough time to decide how to end him and make it look accidental.

Authors Note: Whew, this was a long one with a little of everything. I hope you all are happy with James getting his just due. Rio said aht aht aht, you're gonna suffer like you tried to make my girl. You're gonna go crazy like you tried to make my girl. Stick around and try me big dog 😂 What was your favourite part of the chapter? Also, I still have some time to finish up the final part so let me know any suggestions below or in my inbox 📥 .

NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads

#rio good girls #rio x reader #good girls rio #rio x you #manny montana x reader #rio good girls imagine #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls fanfiction #masterlist #forgiveless

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apas-95 · 10 months ago

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I think a lot of the basis for anarchism's common 'How would we deal with that? Well, it simply wouldn't happen,' problem is the notion of human behaviour 'in a vacuum'.

In reality, we're not building society in a vacuum. We're building it in the real world, out of our real society. We're not imagining some scenario where a bunch of generic people appear in a forest clearing and build a town, we're planning how to improve the society we actually exist in, a society populated by our real neighbours, with all their social dependencies and baggage. Maybe, indeed, a human being in the abstract would have no reason to steal from common stockpiles, or behave antisocially, or refuse to work when able - it is vacuously true. We can't care about supposed innate human nature, all human behaviour is dependent on context and environment. You need to think through the question of 'what happens when someone does anyway?' - because the answer might not be a comfortable one. Refusing to acknowledge the hard questions and their implications doesn't make you better than those that have openly stated what difficult measures and compromises they will navigate. Most of the time, when pressed, the answer to 'what happens' from those who have attempted to ignore the question, is 'death squad', or 'nobody owes you anything'.

Necessarily, whenever we look ahead to a planned future, we also need to look at what it requires to go from here to there. Instead of just appearing, history-free in a settlement, we must make our own way there, fighting against every force that would intend to keep us where we are. We can definitively say this about our future: the organisations and institutions that will build it will have to be ones that have not only survived but also won a revolutionary civil war, against the forces of police and military technology and equipment. That immediately precludes what directions we can organise towards. We have a fixed basis: our present society; and we have now, too, a fixed direction: a fighting organisation that can survive, grow, and organise an entire society around itself. Critically, we also have a wealth of historical experience as to how such things are done - how to fight, how to win. Those are the key things - how do we, tomorrow, today if we're free, start working towards the total military defeat of our enemy, and the preservation of ourselves, in the real world? 'How will we deal with that?' is an incredibly important question to answer now, when we're not yet in a muddy hole shooting fascists and bleeding.

Fundamentally, this is not a thought experiment, this is not a ponderance on the nature of man, it is a matter of practical planning, for when our strikes are dispersed by armed force, and when our breakfast programs are assaulted by fascist thugs. Anything less can only reveal a lack of actual revolutionary aims.

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filmnoirsbian · 9 months ago

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Pausing my hiatus to correct some misinformation that tbh I blame on someone who blasted it on social media without clarifying an important detail: the (USAmerican) federal regulation that states (USAmerican) aircrafts must accommodate a passenger's personal manual wheelchair by stowing it in a special compartment in the cabin only applies to larger aircrafts (100 seats and above). If you are flying on a regional jet (less than 100 seats) they are not obligated to stow your wheelchair in the cabin and in fact probably do not have a place to even do so (they are required to stow it in a special baggage compartment under the cabin). "Well they need to move their crew bags out of the wardrobe so my wheelchair can go there" does not apply on a regional jet, whose overhead bins often don't fit crew bags. Those crew bags ARE meant to go in that wardrobe. It is not a wheelchair wardrobe. I just saw a passenger tell a regional crew that their bags are not meant to be in the wardrobe, all because she was unaware of the actual federal regulation. If you are traveling with a personal manual wheelchair (battery powered wheelchairs are not obligated to be stowed in the cabin regardless of aircraft, so be aware of that as well) PLEASE look up which type of plane you will be on (this information can be found on the airline's website when you look up your flight info). Many large airlines contract out regional flights to regional airlines that fly under their name. Just because you are flying on Delta doesn't mean you will be on a large aircraft able to accommodate a wheelchair. It will save you so much headache in the long run.

#tcp #work stuff

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the-californicationist · 9 months ago

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #18)

FEB18: Healing

TW: wound care, hurt/comfort

When John came back from his most recent tour, it had been months since you’d seen him. The summer had come and gone, and it was nearly mid-October by the time he had leave again. Over the course of his time away on his mission, communication had been almost non-existent, which you weren’t used to. He would reply in short, vague messages, and sometimes a simple “I love you” was all you would see for a week. Needless to say, you had been worried sick.

On the afternoon you were set to pick him up from the airport, you got a call from Kyle.

“Kyle? Hey! Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, babes. All good. We all came back in one piece. Look, I’m not supposed to be calling you. He’s gonna kill me for it, but it can’t be helped.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“He’s hurt his shoulder pretty badly. He won’t ask you to, but you are probably going to have to help him change the bandages. Didn’t want him thinking he could hide it like he’s been trying to.”

“Oh, my God,” your stomach dropped, “Is he alright?”

“He’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Swear. But, he’ll try to do it alone. I know you haven’t seen him hurt, but he’s just that way. I wanted you to know.”

“Thanks so much for telling me, Kyle.”

“You bet, babes. Hope to see you in a few weeks if I get a chance to fly over.”

“Sounds good. See you then,” you hung up the phone.

The whole drive to the airport was nerve wracking. You wondered how bad it was. You also wondered how he had been hurt. You mind fed you horror story after horror story, until you decided you were majorly overreacting.

You took some deep breaths as you waited in baggage claim, and when you finally saw him and his dirty boonie hat coming up the stairs, you nearly broke past the TSA line to get to him.

“John!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling him wrap only one arm around you.

You held him back to study him, and he noticed, asking,

“Who called? It was Garrick, wasn’t it?”

You sighed, not answering him but not lying to him either,

“Where are you hurt? Show me your shoulder.”

“C’mon, let’s go home at least. I’m tired, pretty girl,” he kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand.

You huffed a bit, still worried, but you were relieved that he was home where he belonged.

Back at your apartment, you waited a full ten minutes before insisting that you go into the bathroom to clean and dress his wound.

“Alright, love,” John sighed, “Alright.”

You didn’t like how tired he sounded. Watching him grimace as he removed his shirt hurt your heart, and you gasped when you saw his bandages.

There was a huge gash beneath his dressings, and more than twenty stitches held it together. Luckily, it was clean and free of infection, but it would definitely require weeks of care.

“Oh, John,” you breathed, kissing his other shoulder tenderly.

He sighed,

“I know, love. I’m sorry. Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, “I’ll take care of you. You’re safe with me, now. You’re safe here.”

He turned and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you to his side, hugging you tightly to him, staring down into your face with an odd intensity.

John’s eyes were looking into yours, searching them almost frantically before settling into a loving, fiery gaze, and he told you,

“Pretty girl, you have no idea how bloody true that is, and that’s why I love you so damn much.”

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daryascurse · 1 year ago

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𝙲𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙾𝚁 ── Part I: Caveat Emptor

Love, as Coriolanus Snow had long confirmed, held no value. But lust, lust was worth something. Lust was something more malleable. Lust was a currency of the realm just as money was. And lust could be given, dispensed of, much more freely, with little baggage.

pov : tbsos book compliant, chapters alternate bwn 3rd person coryo, 2nd person reader, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns ❀ tags: sεx work, smuτ, fingering, oraI, (male receiving), finger sucking, praise/ begging ❀ word count: ~6k ❀ ao3 ❀playlist

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Love, as Coriolanus Snow had long confirmed, held as much value as the rocks stuck in the treads of his boots. He rolled his shoe against the carpet, momentarily distracted in an effort to shake free the pebble that jutted unevenly out from the sole and scraped with each step. He didn’t have far to walk these days; he barely had reason to take the trolley. It must have taken only the few steps needed to cross the pavement into the nightclub from the car. But that was just how love was, in his experience, both lived fleetingly and observed from the folly of others. It only took a few careless steps to vex and ruin.

With another casual but sharp shake of his foot, the errant pebble popped free.

But lust, lust was worth some thing. Lust was something more malleable. Lust was a currency of the realm just as money was. And lust could be given, dispensed of, much more freely, with little baggage. All that was required of the parties involved was the regular care and discernment of any transaction on the market. Seller liability; buyer beware. Ever since he had cast aside love, it had, in turn, cast a new light on the value of this thing of lust that was somehow its inverse and shadow in one. It did, however, make it harder to look at or even think of Tigris, and so he turned his mind from the clinical analysis of lust to keep these ideas as separate as possible.

The thought of Livia Cardew snuck unbidden into his mind instead, and Coriolanus twitched his foot in irritation again, disguising it as a cautious step downward into the nightclub. It had simply seemed appropriate after dating for two years to invite her to move into one of the newly refurbished penthouse rooms. They shared a bed and little else. She would be awake when he returned, he was sure of it, with crossed arms and an arsenal of sharp words ready to volley from her tongue.

“The night before University graduation, really? Were you out skulking around all night? Do you know what time it is? We have to be on the grounds in only a few hours, and now I’ve had to stay up waiting for you. What is that smell on you?”

He dropped the deposit into the waiting hand of the Avox at the foot of the stairs.

She’d be Livia Snow before the year was out. No, Coriolanus reminded himself. The proposal should be tomorrow, and the wedding at the end of summer. Wouldn’t that be the cherry on top of the cake - the cake, weeping and souring in the June heat - of a beautiful graduation ceremony, where the University would prepare to send off its bright valedictorian? He would take both his diploma and his new title from the hand of Dr. Gaul, and in turn, ask Livia Cardew for her hand as the audience clapped, oohed, and aahed. A new Head Gamemaker, side by side with his new fiancée, would be a fresh angle and nice side plot for the Capitol to be entertained by. Perhaps another celebration for sore losers to focus their energies if the tributes they bet on died too quickly. It would certainly be a busy summer, with a wedding on the heels of the Games, but Coriolanus had decided on the broad strokes of this plan months before. Years, even. Now everything was just filling in the details.

Which is why he frowned at the Avox sweeping aside the thick purple velvet curtain to let him into the private room. Livia was part of that plan, and this room was not a place where any aspect of the plan had any concern. There was business here that Livia Cardew had no place for.

And if she attended to her own business the same way? That was no concern of Coriolanus’s, nor any care of his. They would need one child, just the one, and there was no rush for it yet; and anyway, that could be arranged through means other than the physical. Even though that would mean surrender of some quantity of his DNA, with no guarantee it wouldn’t be intercepted on the path to the intended petri dish…

The wide grin of Dr. Gaul was what came then to his mind, and Coriolanus shook his head vigorously.

What disturbing thoughts.

It must be the nagging obligation of graduation looming that was poisoning his mind with bizarre visions. But that, still, was for tomorrow. Tonight, he had a hole burning in his pocket, so to speak. It had been a while.

Too long.

He didn’t come to Pluribus Bell’s nightclub for these purposes. Of course he wouldn’t. Coriolanus didn’t need to think the reasons through, they were merely facts that he had accepted for years now - no, he would never go there, where the music played eternally, where the old man’s smile was still too kind and too knowing, even as Tigris’ lips tightened and her eyes began to dart away from his. And Tigris was another reason why he ordered the car to this, the seediest of nightclubs. He frowned again, bidding away wisps of concept before they could turn to real thought.

This is probably the last time, Coriolanus realized, as he shrugged off his coat and took his seat in the large leather chair. It was placed conspicuously at the front of the low stage and smelt sharply of disinfectant. He was already high-profile, but there were rakish joys a university student could enjoy innocently enough. Once he graduated, he would lose the cloak of that justification.

He picked up the glass pane nestled into a side pocket of the chair, and it chirped to life. The lights at the edge of the stage, which was only a foot or so off the ground and wrapped in the same velvet drapery as the rest of the room, lit in a pale, hesitant orange that darkened slowly to red. The tint of the glass panel adjusted with it as Coriolanus scrolled with an idle thumb through the pictures presented to him. All in forcedly promiscuous poses, all arching their backs unnaturally and pursing their lips too zealously to be convincing. He could see, through the digital glow, his fingers curling on the other side of the glass.

“That one,” he said abruptly, selecting a face without looking too closely at it and handing the pane to the Avox standing silently behind the chair. The face expanded to fill the screen, but Coriolanus turned away before he could see her features fully. In his periphery, the Avox’s head bent in a gesture of assent, before stepping away.

By now, his mind was more skilled at shielding his brain from fully forming certain recognitions, as if he could blind the rhetorical third eye. If he could, he would have driven a stake through it at the first hint of melody that began leaking from the tinny speakers announcing the dancer’s imminent entry. At least the quality here was poor enough that he could distract himself with scornful thoughts of that, of the static and hiccupping interruptions of the sound limping along. And at least he would have a better distraction soon enough.

Another Avox materialized with a tall glass of sparkling copper liquor, but Coriolanus shook his head in refusal, and the shadow retreated. Drinking, he had found early on, only unnecessarily prolonged the transaction - and didn’t help it come to a satisfactory conclusion.

The curtain parted then, and he bit back a grin.

He might have chosen indiscriminately, but his instincts had guided him well. The woman who came weaving out of the heavy drapes was nothing short of beautiful; so much so that Coriolanus caught himself wondering what she was doing here. Whatever she lacked, it was nothing in her appearance. Even her poise had an allure, some exudation that could intoxicate him more than alcohol. Her eyes flashed at him, then lowered, demure, daring to flick up again in a gaze clearly practiced and intended to draw a paying customer in. His body began to lean closer, and he corrected it into a straightening of his posture.

What about her was so enchanting? The gleeful urge of a pleased grin faded away, and Coriolanus shifted his weight again, adjusting his seat as he watched her. She wore the same as any other girl here - and by that, barely wore a single sheet of silky fabric wound suggestively around her frame. So how was it that it suited her more than any other? Barely a few yards away, with nothing but the air to separate them, she was closer than a finery locked behind a glass display, and he had already purchased her company. What, then, gave him this strange pause before taking what was his?

Well, no matter how captivating she was. Obviously that was part of the wares she marketed, and she was trained in the salesmanship. While he could always appreciate beauty, he was here to instill some training of his own.

That was one of the problems with places like this, and a problem he would have to find a way to avoid in the future. Sitting in a chair, looking up at a woman he paid for as she swayed over him; that never sat right with Coriolanus. Never mind being a woman. That part didn’t matter. It was just a ridiculous concept to pay anyone to look down on you. Besides that, he wanted more than just a passive show with his cock half-fisted in limp fingers. He had seen Festus Creed like that when he’d first introduced Coriolanus to establishments like this. Festus had been pathetically miserable when Persephone dumped him. He’d looked even more pathetic that night when Coriolanus turned his head in the dark crowd of the bar, hoping his friend would have the decency to look abashed or have a jaunty smile, but instead his jaw was slack and pants half-down as he gawked up at the naked ladies on the stage. That incident alone had been what convinced Coriolanus it was worth the money for a private room. More so than potential embarrassment of his own was the disturbing possibility of seeing another man, or woman, looking so foolishly debased, and knowing that that same slimy hand and glassy gaze would the next morning likely be reaching for the same bread in hotel buffet lines or pushing the same elevator buttons as he. The more control Coriolanus could have over his surroundings, the better.

The customer is always right.

Coriolanus held up a hand, and she paused in her motions, her limbs like water. Truly, beautiful.

But even if he could appreciate beauty, he could not let it have any power here. He could still feel a small smile on his lips as he spoke. “Come here.”

She took that shallow step down from the stage, and Coriolanus leaned back in the chair. “No,” he said, interrupting her movement again, and his hand moved down in an inviting motion to his lap. “I want you to crawl to me.”

He had to lower her. She hesitated.

“That’s right,” he said, and he felt his lips split in a smile again as she lowered herself to the floor. He watched as she palmed cautiously, one hand forward, then a knee to match. Her hips swayed as she moved. The red light painted her skin in deep contour. “Slower,” he said, and her back dipped in inviting response. Her hips pushed higher.

Framed like a fucking heart.

Coriolanus shifted in the chair as she drew closer. Every detail about her was perfect, in a way that drove right through him, and made his thighs ache and open in a way that rarely reached him this deeply. The curve of her lip, the sweep of her eyes as she looked up at him again - if lust was a currency, he was ready to spend everything in his account. He swallowed.

She was between his feet, his legs opened to make space for her between them, and she had sat up to rock back on her heels. The fine satin sash that wound around her body wilted suggestively, as if begging him to rip it from her. His fingers itched.

“Would you like to know my name?” she asked, and even through the forced husk of a customer service voice, he could hear that she sounded beautiful, too.

“I’d like,” Coriolanus said softly, “you to do whatever I ask of you tonight.”

She tightened her eyes and opened her mouth, but Coriolanus cut her off before that harmonious sound could flow from her lips again.

He could affect his voice, too.

“I’m sure you’ve heard other men say that before,” he said, stressing his tone in just the right place and letting it lilt in others. “I’m sure you’ve heard men make requests that you act submissive, or perhaps that you act dominant. These men sit in chairs like this and ask to play along with some fantasy of theirs. But I’m not asking for an act of play-pretend.”

I want you to know your place, he thought, looking at the woman knelt at his feet. He needed it.

She lifted her face, and Coriolanus let himself caress the side of her cheek, his thumb falling to her chin and his fingers closing in a grasp. Her skin was soft.

“Can you give me what I want?”

“Show me what that is,” she murmured.

She was so evidently good at her job. Coriolanus had identified that immediately, even without needing to hear the snake charm of her voice. But when she finished her sentence, or when he heard what sounded like a natural pause, he turned his thumb up to trap it against her mouth, to keep that enchanting sound from doing its wicked magic. In turn, she let her lips open just wide enough to invite him in. Her tongue teased at the pad of his finger, gentle lashings of the muscle.

A clear acquiescence that she’s following his control.

“Good girl.”

It groaned from him without warning, and his instinct was to physically yank it back. But pulling himself from her wouldn’t retract the words. If anything, it encouraged her. A hand rose to clasp around his, and she pressed closer to his body. Coriolanus leaned forward, his back curving. His knees wanted to tighten around her, urges quickening at his thighs. It should be a concern, came that last whisper of unfogged mind, but Coriolanus closed his eyes, his other hand cupping the other side of her face and fingers lighting at the base of her skull as his free thumb stroked her jaw. Lust was settling faster than it usually did in this little velvet room, but why not enjoy it - one last time?

She looked at him, that carefully crafted demure glance below the silky curtain of her eyelashes. He withdrew his thumb and ran it over her lips, her own saliva glossing across her mouth in a glittering red mirage. The lights seemed to have turned an even richer shade of crimson, bathing the room in black, bronze, scarlet. His thumb shifted clumsily, a streak of silver left at the side of her mouth. She exhaled, the sharpness of breath skating warm across his skin. Coriolanus bent his neck and did something he rarely felt the urge to do in these transactions - he kissed the woman on the mouth. Her lips were chapped at the ministration of his touch, and it somehow bit at something inside him, unlocking a thirst for more, more, to drink from her in a way he hadn’t felt acutely parched for in so long. Her lips pressed gently back at his, as if this, too, was a professional line she didn’t cross often. A benefit reserved for the finest customers, perhaps. And Coriolanus Snow couldn’t imagine many men or women finer than he often visited a place like this . Festus certainly never bothered to shill out for a private room.

When the kiss broke, her hands had crept up to rest on the leather between his knees. Coriolanus saw the motion. His fingers curled at the back of her neck and his hips pushed wider, closer.

“Go on,” he said, and he heard the huskiness creep into his tone.

She palmed over him and found the fastening of his pants. Below the cage of his elbows, she had begun to slowly tug at his zipper. Coriolanus let go of her almost regrettably. He leaned back and lifted his hips, pushing even further to the edge of the chair, and her hands somehow made the yanking of his pants down his thighs to pool at the floor a graceful motion.

His cock was already hard, something that he felt no abashment for. Just a testament to the value of the transaction. He couldn’t see her expression as she skated her hands across his inner thighs to situate herself. The touch of her gentle hands made the fine golden dusting of hair prickle in the wake of her movement. Coriolanus stroked a hand along his length as her mouth opened. Once more, and then he urged the tip towards her. Her tongue had lolled from her open lips, and he slapped his cock gently against her.

“Mmh,” he heard her let out, almost involuntarily, and it sent another sharp, hot thrill down his spine. Her fingers wrapped around his to guide his full length into her, and as if to coax him into letting her show him she can do all he would ask of her. And so Coriolanus let go.

Her cheeks hollowed with the first suck, and Coriolanus hissed.

“Ah,” and it was from him that time. He sucked in the inhale as she dragged her tongue along the thick length of the tender vein branching up from the underside of his cock, cradling him in her mouth as her hand settled at the base to anchor herself. Coriolanus felt the muscles in his abdomen and back, wound tight, unwind with each ragged breath from his nose. He slowly fell back, relaxing into the leather embrace of the back of the chair, and his head lolled to the side.

Her mouth was warm, soft, a perfect fit, and Coriolanus pushed his hips up slowly in agreement with the pace she set. It was starting to send rivulets of heat spiking up below his skin, and his elbows rose to fumble at the buttons lining down his shirt, aching to cool off.

“Look at me,” Coriolanus rasped out, his hands settled at the hem of his shirt and so close to the anxious work of her head.

She had to almost pull off for that, her lips sliding up and higher from his cock and leaving the sheen of her saliva mixed with the beading precum beginning to leak from him. Drool still shone at the side of her split lips, and her eyes were bright as they rolled up at him. Perhaps an affectation of the profession, an ability to cry dewy tears at will, but, as he grabbed the side of her face, she blinked in a way that was too perfect to be fully an act.

Coriolanus let his lips curve into a smirk, and as he pushed his hips up to slide his cock back into her mouth, he relished in the muffled moan that choked in her throat. The rhythm began to beat faster, the heels of his palms hard on her cheekbones as he held her in place. The open billow of his shirt fell to his sides, the chisel of his stomach muscles stained crimson in the light tightening with a strain that began pushing through his body in response to the urgency that had built from his loins.

“Oh,” he heard himself say, and he closed his eyes as if to hide from the words he let spill. “Oh, oh, that’s it. Good girl, good, good girl.”

She made another choking whimper that was nearly enough to make him unravel, some coil loosening in his shoulders and tightening again below.

That might have been enough on any other visit to the velvet room. He would have held her face between his heads, the warmth of her breath enveloping him and her lips closing as he let that sensation within him erupt. When he was spent into her mouth, no matter what she did with that, he would leave a few coins in recognition of her service and pay the remainder of the club’s amount on his way out the door. He would button his coat to the neck and climb into the car, head back to the penthouse, and turn a deaf ear to Livia’s lectures as he readied for bed. But he found an aching in his bones that night - that he wanted more . It was his last night here after all.

Might as well get some bang for his buck, as that prehistoric saying went.

“Oh, oh,” Coriolanus said, and pushed with a gentler strength than he would normally, to ease her off his cock before it was too late. She acquiesced easily, strings of saliva beading out and connecting her to him still as she rocked back on her heels.

Her eyes were still weeping involuntarily - or, again, perhaps craftily - and she lifted a finger to wipe delicately at their corners. That satin, wound around her like a snake, shifted again, bent dangerously high in the valley between her kneeling thighs.

“Come here,” Coriolanus breathed before thinking.

She rose, and he saw it, her foot sway a little unsteadily. Perhaps more than a dance and a suck was something she wasn’t used to either. But she raised a leg around his hips to straddle him, and Coriolanus tugged at the satin. He ran his hands among the smooth length and she shivered under his touch, her eyelids sinking and another “ oh ” sighing from her perfectly parted lips. That, Coriolanus could appreciate, more than the forced falsity of the other women in the glass pane’s catalog. Even if it wasn’t natural, it was a convincing enough act.

As he found the knot at her hip, she reached up to her mouth, rolling each finger across her tongue in turn.

“Can I?” she asked.

Coriolanus raised his eyebrows at her. His fingers were busy on the knot. “Can you what?”

He knew what, and more than that, his body knew what.

“I want to hear you ask it,” he said in gentle facade when she hesitated for just the right amount of time.

“Can I touch you?” she barely whispered.

The light in her eyes shone like rubies in the red room.

Coriolanus paused, and he thought he would be undone at the heartbeats between the reply. “You can.”

She reached, her fingers wet and dripping red diamonds. He groaned, shuddering forward and letting his head rest on her shoulder, his own fingerwork frozen a minute when she wrapped around his cock. The warmth was back, that snug fit rolling through him as she stroked her fingers up and down. This, this was what the money was truly for, and this is what it was worth; better than his solitary work in the shower where he had to bite back grunts and groans as he spilled down the drain.

The determination not to do it yet was what gave him the strength to pick the knot free at last, and the satin slithered from her body in one fine sheet. There was a sense of a tug, and he felt that her other hand had fisted at the fabric of his open shirt. Coriolanus shook into the crook of her neck, and his hands pushed at the purchase of her hips.

“Oh!”

It was a yelp, a sign that something in the knead of his hands was more powerful than she was accustomed to, and he squeezed again.

“Move,” Coriolanus managed. “Move- up.”

She understood, lifting her hips - or perhaps he guided them higher up his lap before he freed his grasp - and her hands found his shoulders then to lean on, audaciously grasping his skin below the splayed shirt collar.

He moved his fingers between her thighs, keeping her from lowering entirely, and she gasped at the sudden contact of his fingers against her cunt.

“Oh- f-”

He allowed himself a heavy exhale at just how wet she was. That’s something even the best couldn’t fake. He slid his fingers through the folds and pushed two inside at the same time. Her body didn’t even give resistance, that’s how easy it was to swim in her velvet, but her fingernails bit at his shoulder and she choked on another wail as she dropped her head.

It was too sweet.

“I didn’t expect that,” Coriolanus raspsed. The truth came from him impulsively, in a rare moment of abandon. “You got so wet just from putting your mouth on my cock?”

The words sounded dirtier than they should have as they broke from his lips. She sucked in an inhale.

“Tell me.”

“I - mm hmm.”

He understood the message, but her gentle failure to fully admit it came across as less coy and more smug to his ears. She was no better than he, to refuse filthy words here. He turned his thumb up, pressing to her clit, and then he pressed hard. She gasped again, her inner muscles fluttering over his touch. Coriolanus gave a rub of his thumb, and she pushed her hips forward as if to seek more of the friction. He lifted his touch in denial.

“I said, tell me.”

“Yes,” she said in a whisper. “It - yes , you got me so excited, so, so w- wet.”

The keening confession earned her another gentle circle of his thumb. Her thigh muscles went slack in the hold over his. Before long he could work three fingers into her, massaging at her walls, and when he teased the side of a fourth against her skin, that’s when she broke.

“Plea- please,” and it made him grin again.

“What?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

She shook her head in agony. “Please, please,” she whispered. “Please fuck me.”

The way she half-wailed drowned out the last of the pathetic music from the speakers, and he found he really liked it.

Coriolanus slipped his fingers out, dragged her wetness down to his cock where her saliva had begun to dry and tack in the arid basement. He urged it up, his other hand locked on her waist to guide her hips.

All she had to do was lower herself to him one more time.

Her hands steadied at his shoulder, and he could feel the head of his cock cresting at her entrance.

“Good girl.”

Because of how wet she was, he slipped right in, and Coriolanus shuddered. He let go as she sank down, leaning back against the plush leather. He could see the quaver of her limbs as she tried to ease herself. He was barely halfway in and she was visibly shaking at the way he must have started to stretch her. All she could do is moan, quietly, taking slow breaths as she went.

“Oh - ”

He held his hands at her hips and bit back a grating groan. Within him, the tsunami wave was drawing high, higher, almost crested when she finally took all of him in her and was flush against his body. Forget any clumsy fumbling of his cock alone over the shower drain. The one time he and Livia Cardew had tried to find a rhythm in the sheets; no, this urgency was not a rushed one to have the experience over with. This was a ravenous hunger.

She rocked on his lap, Coriolanus moving her with the strength still trained in his arms as his cock dragged inside her, gently tugged with each sway of her body. His fingers curved, dug into her back, unable to settle in just one place as the friction of her body rubbed against his. He could feel the stuttering of her breath as she rode him.

“Mm- fuck -”

“Fuck. You’re so - you’re sucking me right up.” Coriolanus licked at the corner of his mouth. “Good, good girl.”

He let his hand back for a moment and spanked her.

She howled and thrust her hips forward.

Sweat beaded at his hairline, and he could feel the lines of his face tightening in concentration. His hold hardened, and her chin jerked back, her eyes rolling and lips parted.

Coriolanus realized suddenly just how much he was holding back, and he thought - what for ? Her delicate grace was so clearly just a professional facade. The way she clawed at him and stuttered her breath, that was real. He was quite good, by now, at identifying fellow liars. She was evidently enjoying it as much as he was.

Her lithe beauty wouldn't break.

He gripped her hips hard with both hands and thrust his hips up, pounding into her body at an urgent pace. The pleasure was making his muscles tremble. Focusing that strength steaded him, concentrated him on each rolling wave, on that tsunami threatening evermore to break. He squeezed again, spanking her again, and then again, as it made her keen and rock her hips faster.

“Fuck - t-touch me - please?”

“Hmm?”

“Please,” she said, almost sobbing and her voice hiccuping with each unsteady bounce.

The way she begged made him grit his teeth and focus, and he waited a moment - to tease her, to steady himself - before he let go with one hand, returning his thumb to the space where their bodies met. His skin was sheened with sweat and the shining, crimson-lit trail of her arousal marbling the base of his cock, barely visible with the launches of her body. Coriolanus worked his finger between and felt for a place that made her raise her voice in that delightful way again.

It worked.

She cried out something that, for a moment, didn’t quite make sense to him. “I’m coming!” Coriolanus hadn’t heard those words in a place like this, where she was already here, not these words from a woman, but his body recognized them as soon as she finished her wail. Something in the walls of her cunt tightened, sucking around him, and then throbbed in hot, rushing convulsion.

“Oh- ”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Coriolanus said, and it made him shudder at the raw agony he let into his voice. But it was impossible to hide the difference this made, and he withdrew his finger to focus on fucking into her again.

A half-formed thought flew across his mind, and he pushed his glistening fingers to her lips. “Suck.”

She curled closer to him, one hand still pushing at him for balance, as she clasped the other around his forearm. Coriolanus thrust his fingers into her mouth and groaned as her tongue smacked him clean of her.

His strokes came quicker, faster, rougher, a cacophony of skin and creaking chairs and hot, heavy breaths from two sets of lungs. And without much warning, he threw his head back, throbbing inside her warm cunt, and let loose an anguished cry. She shook as he came, hard, each spurt pushed from him until he felt boneless. The feeling of her still wrapped around him kept him weak.

It was a few moments before her hands slid down his chest, and he managed to tap the side of her hip.

“Alright,” Coriolanus said, and it didn’t sound as casual, as strong as he would have liked. He swallowed, almost moaning when she pulled herself off him, the arid chill of the room prickling over his flushed and sweaty skin. He almost patted his pocket for a handkerchief before remembering it was in the jacket behind him - dangerous, how much this was rattling his mind from the simplest things. Instead of standing yet, he lifted a corner of his shirt to wipe at his face.

The mismatched sound of laboring breath still filled the room. When Coriolanus looked up, she had sunk to her knees again, drawing the satin sash between her hands to re-wind it around her body. The wild thought seized him, how she would look with his hands binding her with that very sash - perhaps even in his penthouse bed, where he could put her properly on her back, and he had to shake his head to make the fantasy flee.

A very worthy farewell.

He was almost sad to see this part of his life go, and he tipped extremely generously with little hesitation.

Coriolanus slept sounder than he had in a while, even with Livia prodding at his ribs before the sun fully rose and snarling at him to get ready. Even the curt note left from Tigris at the dining table leaving her clearly insincere regrets, but she didn’t think the Grandma’am had strength enough to muster for the ceremony and they would stay in with Mrs. Plinth, could dampen the strange warmth settled in his chest. It struck him, as he took his place at the head of the graduation line, that this was perhaps satisfaction. Sincere satisfaction in a way that all the little moments of pride through his time at the University had been building to, all tied with a nice little bow. Every want, every need attended to, and more within his reach waiting to be handed to him at the denouement of the ritual. Festus Creed passed him on his way to his seat, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a childish thumbs up, and Coriolanous let his teeth split in genuine glee at his friend. The weight of the ring box knocked in the pocket of his graduation gown, but even that heaviness was not an anchor, but a sturdy climbing hold. One of the last ones he had to clamber over. He felt like a cat lapping up the last dregs of a rich bowl of cream.

Livia was somewhere down the line, her pinched face hidden in the sea of matching caps. Coriolanus took the stage to give his valedictorian speech, planning to polish it off with the proposal. As he shuffled his papers, more prop than necessity, he waited for the commencement speaker to finish - some lofty, thin-voiced broadcaster the graduation committee had accepted with the wheedling donation of the Flickerman family - and scanned the rows of his classmates looking for her in preparation of that moment. It struck him how many faces he didn’t recognize. Though the University was small and elite, and while he, of course, was notorious to all, Coriolanus hadn’t spent his years bothering to make new friends or to oogle classmates. Anyone he hadn’t recognized from the Academy was likely some scholarship student from one of the less-prestigious secondary schools at the outskirts of the Capitol, and not worth his time. But here, he was forced with the fact that he would be speaking to a notable statistic of strangers. There was Festus, of course, and Lysistrata in the row behind him. He squinted, looking for Livia.

And then he saw another face he recognized, a face that made him start, lean forward, and almost miss the way the commencement speaker had stepped back and extended his hand to introduce Coriolanus to the podium.

“...your valedictorian, Coriolanus Snow!”

He rose automatically, the papers beginning to slip between the sweat gathering between his fingers. The anticipatory applause began to rise from the sea of classmates and spectators.

Except one person wasn’t clapping, a young woman eying him below the brim of her cap.

That joyous satisfaction alighting his bones began to settle into unease. This, too, was a feeling he recognized as one he hadn’t felt in a while. A very long while. This was the reeling sense of control threatening to slip from his fingers, and he clenched his papers.

Coriolanus still hadn’t found Livia in that crowd. But he did see the woman from the velvet room, waiting, with the rest of his class, to graduate.

Part II: Ferae Naturae

#tbosas #coryo x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x you #daryafics #divider by saradika #banner by cafekitsune #caveatcoryo

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papayajuan2019 · 1 year ago

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how to fall in love with life?

i feel unqualified to answer, im so mentally ill, but i'll try. also, im drunk, so excuse the incongruency. if youre looking to fall in love with life, and youre asking someone who is also hurting, it's likely you have not been given what you deserve throughout your life. please acknowledge you have always deserved the love life has to offer, the sweet moments of connection and warmth. what took that love from you was not fair; grieve it entirely. you always deserved to fall in love with life. let it hurt entirely. please do not be afraid of the hurt. it's proof the love has always belonged to you. please hurt entirely, it's necessary to let the love in. dont let the shame stop you from hurting. please, i know this sounds counterintuitive, let yourself feel so fucking hurt. it doesnt mean you have to be angry, or righteous, or demand answers, just let it hurt. cry, or be sad. acceptance that things are not right is key.

after that, learn to be childlike again. learn to be scared again without baggage. learn to play games without remorse. learn to make art again, regardless of talent. be open, even while being so scared. find the right people to be open to (read: platonic people, do not go looking for romantic openness, that is for later on). love of life6 requires finding the right people to be open to. do not find those people online, or at the very least, dont let the online people be the key people. find people in the real world (if youre like me, that is real fucking scary. but it cant be done any other way. it has to be people whose reaction you can see physically in real time).

after that, just be you. the person you have been reluctant to be. be overwhelming. be sad. be fun. go out in nature. find outlets (up to you. could be physical activity, or writing, or nature appreciation, or other types of art, could be sex, could be platonic activity. everyone is different, dont judge what finds you).

basically, be the version of you that you knew was always true. be messy. be earnest. find safety, which, paradoxically, requires a bit of risk first. be so scared. love requires undoing the baggage put on you, which, in turn, requires a bit of fear.

sorry if this doesnt make any sense. i am still in the process of falling in love with life. if you fail at it this time, try again later. i love you

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bitchy-craft · 1 year ago

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How August Will Go For You | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out how August will go for you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

For you, August will be a month of new beginnings and exciting opportunities for you. As the sun rises on a fresh chapter of your life, you'll find yourself drawn to unexplored paths and uncharted territories. This is the time to take bold steps forward and embrace change with confidence and enthusiasm. Your curiosity and openness will lead you to discover new facets of yourself and unlock hidden potentials. Don't hesitate to pursue your passions and dreams, for this month holds the promise of personal growth and achievement.

However, be mindful of the challenges that may arise during this period. Change can bring its share of uncertainties and obstacles. Trust in your abilities to overcome any hurdles that come your way. Seek advice and support from trusted friends and mentors, for they will offer valuable insights and encouragement to guide you through rough patches.

Keep your focus on the bigger picture and stay positive. As you sow the seeds of your aspirations, remember that patience and perseverance are essential virtues. Rome wasn't built in a day, and your efforts will require time to flourish. Stay committed to your goals, and you'll witness the fruits of your labor.

Pile 2:

August is going to be a month of deep introspection and self-discovery for you. As the summer days begin to wane, you'll feel an innate desire to turn inward and reflect on your journey thus far. This period calls for you to pause and take a closer look at your values, beliefs, and the direction you've been heading.

Embrace this time of soul-searching with an open heart, as it holds the potential for profound healing and growth. Let go of any emotional baggage that has weighed you down, for now is the time to release old wounds and embrace forgiveness—both for yourself and others. This process of inner cleansing will pave the way for new opportunities and fresh perspectives.

August offers a chance to reconnect with your passions and reignite the fire within. Rediscover what truly brings you joy and fulfillment. This introspective journey may also lead you to realign your goals and set new intentions for the future.

Be patient and compassionate with yourself during this period of introspection. The insights you gain will shape your path ahead, so take the time to understand your emotions and aspirations fully. This deep self-awareness will empower you to make choices that align with your authentic self and propel you towards a more purposeful and fulfilling life.

Pile 3:

August will be a month of vibrant social connections and opportunities for expansion. The summer sun shines brightly on your social life, bringing with it a wave of interactions and gatherings. You'll find yourself drawn to various events, group activities, and networking opportunities.

Embrace these moments of social engagement with an open heart and an open mind. New friendships may blossom, and existing relationships will deepen as you strengthen your bonds with others. Collaboration and teamwork will be key themes during this period. Be receptive to ideas and contributions from those around you, for their insights may prove instrumental in your endeavors.

August offers a fertile ground for community involvement and making a positive impact. Engage in causes close to your heart, and you'll find fulfillment in contributing to the well-being of others. As you expand your network and connect with like-minded individuals, be open to exploring shared passions and projects.

However, amid all the social activities, remember to find moments of solitude and introspection. It's essential to strike a balance between your external interactions and inner well-being. Take time for self-care, reflection, and rejuvenation. These moments of quietude will recharge your energy and keep you grounded amidst the social whirlwind.

Embrace the richness of August's social landscape, and you'll discover that the connections you forge during this period can bring lasting benefits and set the stage for exciting opportunities in the future.

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terrence-silver · 6 months ago

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Imagine beloved had left 80s Terry around the same time as John and he couldn’t find her despite all of his resources. Then at his little garden party where he’s introduced in CK, he/she turns up with Kreese. How would he react?….

The One Who Got Away

Terry Silver x Reader (With spectacular amounts of meddling from John Kreese)

—

John believed himself a good friend, even when nobody understood his methods.

His technique.

But, sometimes genuinely favorable intentions tended to be misunderstood in life precisely because truth had the habit of being a hard pill to swallow for some, the same way Terry misunderstood him when he hung up the phone on him after decades of radio silence even though John didn’t take it to heart; not in the way someone else might’ve taken it to heart, anyway. He understood bitterness. Festering, unresolved issues. Baggage. Old resentments. Hell, he lived with a great many old things like the lack of closure as the only companionship he could openly boast for quite a while — in fact, old memories proved to be better company than most people would've. After all, Terry reached out countless times over the years, offering him opportunities, employment, money, second, third and fourth chances, never once getting the fact that to John, living off of quite so much charity was like castration, even if a good friend was the one holding the amputation blade. He might as well not be a man if someone else puts his bread and butter on the table instead of himself. Of course they both knew where the other was these past thirty something years, the short distance between them like an aching gap that couldn’t close or stop bleeding. John was legally homeless because, to him, there was a certain honor in refusing handouts and across town, Terry was cooped up in possibly his millionth new mansion since the 80’s, switching his usual old haunt up in The Hills for a beachfront porch out in Malibu were he took to hosting garden parties and charity events nowadays; a pastime for the semi-retired.

It was all over the newspapers and luckily, John enjoyed swapping through articles — has done so ever since he was a young man. Terry Silver had no marriage, no children, no official affiliation with any martial arts by the looks of it, some woman beside him.

John knows her type.

What GI's back in the days used to call a Boom Boom Girl.

A Boom Boom Girl putting on airs that she wasn't a Boom Boom Girl.

John places his finger over her face on the glossy paper of the periodical, covering her features as he eyes the phone in his hand, wondering if Terry never quite got down to having either progeny or matrimony because it wasn’t with you; somehow, things fell apart after the ‘85 tournament and old friendships and creeds broke into a thousand pieces, you becoming the one who got away amidst the wreckage and all the fallout. John felt responsible for you. Responsible, perhaps, in a way an older brother would be. A father, even though you were close in age, only several years of difference between you. Thinking that someone Terry cared about was in equal measure someone he should keep an eye out for. Watch, from afar. A solidarity of a Cobra for another Cobra and the Cobra’s mate. You never married either. Never had kids. John kept a careful tab on everything. Seems like the three of you were much the same, he thinks, as he hits up your number, one hand entering the digits who went to some pretty big lengths to track down, his other hand and his finger still pressed against the paper of the periodical; something or other about a Mindfulness App and its upcoming promotion. John saw nothing wrong in sabotaging an existing relationship to make another one happen. Picking apart people to bring together someone with somebody else. He’s done worse in life. Done better too. Never regretted any of it. This was probably the first time he was willingly playing a game of Good Cupid, Bad Cupid.

To quote Terry himself, extreme situations required extreme measures.

A nearby thin, black ballpoint marker stands on the table of his dojo office and listening to the clicking of the phone line pressed against his ear, John unplugs the top, drawing an X over the face of the person Hello! Magazine’s interviewer described as one Cheyenne Hamidi, standing next to Terry during what seemed like an official photoshoot of sorts. Promotional glossy bullshit with a plastic sprinkling of sparkles doused all over it.

Battle plans.

So many battle plans for the Thirty Year War.

Terry shouldn’t have terminated their phone call like that. Shouldn’t have left him out in the cold when all he wanted to do was talk. Cut him off, will he? The man who saved his life as many times as he did? His oldest ever friend? Whenever John Kreese was faced with an unmovable wall that barricaded him out, he returned to the place with a tank. You happened to be a crucial part of his heavy artillery.

A familiar voice answers on the other side; you sound aged. But still you.

-"Hello? Who’s this?"-

You inquire carefully, the questioning in your voice peppered with confusion once you get no immediate answer back. John sets down the marker on the desk. After a brief moment of silence, he has to smile. My, was it good to hear you loud and clear after all these years. He wondered if you’d recognize him if he spoke. Regardless, taking no chances, he chooses to introduce himself, hoping you wouldn’t hang up on him like Terry did. He shuts the periodical he’s drawn on, tossing it aside.

-"Toots? It’s John Kreese."-

—

-"Look at you. You’re a smokeshow!"-

-"Oh, please, John, I’ve aged. I’m all wrinkles."-

Those are the first words you exchange once he arranges a meeting, wondering to a degree, how was it that for all his connections, money, resources and usual habit of getting what he wants when he wants it, Terry never sought you out when John managed, not possessing a quarter of his means, concluding that Terry simply choose to capitulate, which was entirely out of character for him, to be as defeatist as to give up on something he felt belonged to him. Things changed. Things needed to be back to order, by the looks of it. John squeezes your hand in a handshake, for old times sake. -"I resent that."- He says, smiling into his own chin, looking you up and down. The years did it's toll, but you were still a grand lady. Shocking how nobody came to scoop you up over the years. Less shocking once he'd consider the fact that he'd make them disappear even if they tried ---- for Terry's own sake. Even if Terry never asked him to do that, John knew --- oh, he knew he needed someone to do that regardless; someone needed to pick up the good fight for him and in his stead occasionally now that he was seemingly playing the role of a Pacifist in newspapers people kept in their salons and never actually read. So, naturally, John plays clueless and asks the very question he already the knew the answer to. -"Tell me, how come you never got married? How’s that even possible?"- He goes by way of flattery, watching something gloomy wash over your face as you sit down on a nearby park bench, sighing deeply. That serious, huh?

-"Oh, John. You know why."-

He knew why. He knew everything.

Collecting intel was one of his talents.

But, still. A looker like you? Men in this city either became dumber over the years or they've lost their taste entirely. Probably both.

-"He’s never married either."-

And he just about should've been by now, he yearns to add.

Keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being and instead, John immediately chooses to cut to the chase; cut the bullshit, get to the point, meeting your glance knowingly and you nod, visibly gulping hard. It was clear it was difficult for you to talk about this --- that this was a taxing topic, even after all these decades, even though you knew exactly who he was talking about even without a name ever being mentioned. Terry was always on your mind, wasn't he? At least, frequently enough that he didn't even have to be brought up directly for you to catch the context immediately. -"Look, I was the one who ran when things got out of hand. You know that. He’s got every right be hurt."- You manage, appearing almost apologetic about it. -"And by the looks of it, he’s been doing very well for himself now. Then again, has there ever been a time when he wasn’t?"- You looking down towards your own lap and the hands on them, chuckling to yourself with a note of bitterness, and yeah, there have been times when Terry Silver hasn't been doing good, and if John could attest to that with certainty it is because he's seen him at his lowest and ironically, for all the razzle, dazzle, glitz and glamour, he'd be damned if anyone could convince him he was doing good right now, no matter what the shills in the media were claiming; Newspapers you no doubt saw too. John wondered if you were jealous? Heartbroken? You had to be. If his Betsy went and married some random schmuck who wasn't him he'd about ram his teeth down his throat over it, and that would only be the introduction. -"What I mean to say, John, I am happy, if he’s happy. We’re from two different worlds, we always have been, but Terry’s contentment is all I want."-

No lies detected in your voice.

Only honesty. Clear as a stream. Just as vulnerable. Fragile.

See, this is exactly why he wanted you for Terry.

Kind.

Selfless.

Almost noble.

The willingness to stay in the shadows and self-sacrifice your happiness.

Not a single advantageous, opportunistic bone in your body in regards to Terry.

True love.

That was it. What it looked like.

In strange ways beyond explanation, your manner reminded John of Betsy all his life --- Betsy if she was allowed to age and grow old, no more than it did there and then, something similarly timeless and eerily haunting about you two; something sweet and genuine once you said that you wanted nothing but Terry's contentment and he figured, Terry, Twig --- he needed all the help he could get even when he didn't realize it. Even when he wouldn't admit to it. Ever since the war, he needed a push in the right direction. Someone to guide him in a seamless sense. Save him. John would guide him. Save him, yes. For the umpteenth time. John would guide him right where he witnessed Terry happiest back in the day, right to you. The natural payment for that would be Cobra Kai reestablished and reinstated to it's former glory where it belonged. John watches Terry's back, Terry watches his. Who said there wasn't a thread of selfishness to the transaction? In 'Nam, when rations were low, John tended to let Twig drink out of his canteen, eat from his share of meals purely so he'd have a fighting chance at growing a pair of muscles and surviving the long marches out in the jungle even if it meant there would be less food left for John. Was it quite so different today, over forty years later? John gets Cobra Kai and Terry gets the love of his life because John would ensure the meeting possible. Precisely because he was ready to selfishly meddle. Divide and conquer.

So, really, in the end, who gets more out of the deal?

-"Look, toots, I’ll be going to see him to talk business."-

John offers.

-"If you want to come with me, you should."-

-"No, John, c’mon. I can't."-

You immediately snort and fidget, overtaken by a nervous edge of unwillingness.

Profusely embarrassed, gripping the edge of the bench with both hands.

Looking like you wanted to stand up and make an excuse to leave.

-"I can’t randomly show up in his life like that."-

Can't or were too afraid to?

Because John wasn't afraid; he'd scale the walls of his mansion if he had to.

Fight whatever security detour there was in place.

With you on his back.

-"Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t."-

John inquires, taking no prisoners, being as serious as he could be as he scrutinizes your anxiety, because no, genuinely, your place was by Terry's side ever since the good, old days. Everything between there and now was a load of bullshit and if John loathed anything it was loads of bullshit. You shake your head, prodding on, still not convinced. Did you think someone was going to come along and award you a Medal of Honor if you were continued to deprive yourself of joy? -"No fair! Tell me what’s this business you two are suddenly talking about? I thought you weren’t close like that anymore."- You furrow your brows with incredulity and John simply shrugs, choosing to be blunt. After all, he didn't track you down and bring you out here to pull your nose or waste too much of his own time doing so when there was work to be done. He came here to tie up loose ends. -"It’s Cobra Kai."- He confesses, holding your gaze firmly. Your mouth remains open, like you intended to say something, but the words remained stuck halfway in your throat. Sounded like you haven't heard that name uttered in thirty years and like you weren't certain if you should even say it anymore, after everything that's transpired. -"Cobra Kai?"- You stutter, practically shooting up from where you were seated, your body language rigid. Stiff as a board. -"So, this is what it’s all about? I should've known you had an agenda the minute you contacted me! You want me to butter Terry up for you, John? Isn't that right? Get whatever financing and bankrolling you need to get your revenue expanding! None of this is honest, good or dignified!"- You point a finger at him, ranting, visibly impassioned and John has to smile into his chin. Feisty, huh? Feisty and ever so selfless once again, with all the consideration in the world for Terry's honor and well-being, like the saint you were. If anything, another proof you belonged together; that is, if Terry as he was now was man enough to even deserve you back.

And after all, so what if it wasn't honest, good or dignified?

When was war ever honest, good or dignified?

What Cobra Kai was about to do is enter an all out war.

Terry could be out here blowing his cash on buying some broad with an over inflated ego and a smug face the credentials for an unearned start-up and splitting grey hairs on a silky mansion cushion like the sad, neutered old pensioner he's made himself out to be, or he could be bringing their life's work to the fullest potential and fruition, get married to you, have an actual legacy to boast and be the man and the warrior he was always supposed to be; John didn't save him as many times as he did in Vietnam to have him withering away doing nothing with himself, and if that was the wrong attitude to have, then fuck it. John stands up too, placing himself in front of you. This wasn't just about the money and you knew it. This was greater than money. Cobra Kai, him, you and Terry were always greater than money. Terry and you were a major chunk of John Kreese's entire life. -"No. I want old times back. I want things made right. Set straight. And I want you to be on good terms again."- John explains himself, nearly saying 'I want the clock to go back', deciding not to, choosing not to risk sounding too damn sentimental for his own good, regardless how true it was. -"Why?"- You shrug your shoulders, appearing angry, unsatisfied with what you've just heard. Would you be more satisfied if he told you he was concerned with who his friend wasted his time on? That he wanted Terry with someone who was good for him? Who knew him inside out? Someone who understood him? Loved him?

Because John could do that. So, he does.

-"Because he cares about you, doll."-

John allows his head to cock to the side, endeared by the way your eyes welled up with suppressed, prideful tears once you were rendered temporarily speechless by that bit of unfiltered truth. You cared about his Twig too, didn't you? You cared about him more than you've ever cared about anyone else. Always have. Otherwise, you would've settled down. You would've done so ages ago. You could still do so now, in spite of your wrinkles and the occasional silver hair; a beauty even now. The same way John would've settled down if it wasn't for Betsy's memory. Just the way Terry would've too, if it wasn't for the memory of you. But, here you were, still choosing to be your stubborn, combative self. Well, Terry liked them with some spunk and fire, after all. So did John.

-"Oh, please, how can you claim to even know that!? Leave him be! He's in an relationship! He's moved on! It was all over the ---"-

You start arguing, getting emotional and heated, deflecting, clearly out of fear at the prospect of a reunion taking place, pleading Terry's case for him and if it wasn't for the fact the vista he choose the meeting to take place in wasn't remote, overlooking the gridded skyline of LA, giving you two some much needed privacy from prying eyes he was certain people would be turning around to stare you down, looking for the cause of all the noise and commotion, but regardless of the semantics; How could John claim Terry still cared about you? When two people were as intrinsically tied with each other for as long as he and Terry were, and they've been through all the crap he and Terry have been through, when a man is sure, he's sure. Doesn't require a science.

-"I know that man's soul better than he knows his own, is how."-

Is all John says, finally stunning you into silence.

—

The mansion was everything the newspaper spreads portrayed it as.

And in person, the walls surrounding the outer garden wall were just as tall as they seemed in the periodicals, their overall width and height causing John's throat to erupt in a chuckle once he landed on the immaculately trimmed green lawn cut to staggering perfection almost resembling a carpet trampled under his footwear pressing down it's surfaces in the aftermath of his jump down, letting you climb off of his back and unto the rug-like grass spread that encircled the whole estate dotted with decorative shrubberies, looming palm trees, white rocks and sprawling and exotic plants; a man simply never forgot his military basic training and the things he picked up there --- not even after half a century --- and in spite of the near bastion like fence embracing the premises of the manor from all sides, John found it easy to come in, undetected, grabbing hold of your hand and guiding you behind himself, following the pathway going along the sleek, white facade of the mansion's backyard. If Terry Silver's new home was a country, it would've been long since invaded by now. All pastels, light colors and jagged shapes; either his tastes drastically changed over time or he was simply following the new fashion of things purely because they were the new fashion of things and because he wanted to fly low, slipping beneath the radar, being like everyone else, pretending to be both the grass and the snake inside of it. Now, all was left was finding the man of the hour himself if he was present on the estate and judging by all the cars parked out front, like so many models on a show, he must've been. A maid carrying a tray of crushed ice in a heavy crystal decanter appears in sight and John feels you gasp in concealed surprise behind him, squeezing his arm wordlessly, fearing getting caught and seen by someone prematurely, no doubt, only for a taller, smartly dressed figure in blue to immediately come into sight once the server nearly drops the contents she was carrying away from whatever party she was catering, struggling underneath the weight of her platter's contents. At this point, John feels your hand let go of his.

Terry Silver. There he was. Meeting his gaze, head on.

He was dressed for vacation, looking like he was on a very long one.

John nods his way, smiling; the gesture unreturned. Figures.

The man, the legend, the myth.

It was time to leave the eternal vacation, though --- come back down to planet Earth.

-"What do you want?"-

Terry immediately snipes dryly, tight-jawed, seemingly cracking his neck, instantly recognizing him, appearing cold and detached, John certain that you were still in his shadow, just behind him, too embarrassed and scared to stand side by side beside him, trying to make yourself look small once he steps out of the looming corner of the manor's outer wall opening into a grand garden affair, riddled with people seated on outdoors commodes and loveseats not far off, further into the estate grounds, waited on by a staff of mingling butlers, finding Terry's eyes travelling from him, to his shoulders, of his arms, to the body adjoined to him and finding you standing there, discerning you, perhaps instantly, the shift in demeanor being almost immediate once the apologetic maid scurries off to tend to her duties and Terry's gaze remains frozen on you, through John. If he was on the verge of arguing with him on sight, the desire visibly disperses and Terry merely stands there, motionless, lost and vacant, you reacting much the same as the party goes on, only a couple of feet away, the silence looming heavy, like a bullet fired in the dead of night. John could swear, if someone dropped a tiny silver cocktail spoon at this party, it would be heard over on the other side, in Mexico; tension only interrupted by a chipper voice cutting through the discomfort looming like a dark cloud. The woman from the newspaper. The one with the 'X' over her face. Charlene, Charlotte, Cherry whatever. John remembered her full name alright, but he didn't bother giving her respect of pretending he did. -"Terrence! Aren’t you going to introduce us?"- Pep in her step followed with an English accent, she stands beside him, showing off a cool smile, Martini glass adorned with a garnish in hand; John interlocks his arm with yours, practically forcing you forward, stiff as you were, refusing to allow you stand behind his back, like some sort of nobody vagrant or a mouse attempting to crawl back into its hole. Nobody puts Baby in a corner, not on his watch, he thinks to himself. The very fact Terry didn't introduce you as This was the woman I loved, wanted to marry, wanted to have children with, wanted to have everything in the world with thirty years ago side by side with the man I've been through literal hell and back with was offensive enough John's taste buds.

So, he introduces himself.

-"Old friend."-

He speaks up, gruffly, with some humor. Introducing you next.

Seeing as how clearly you were too tongue tied to do it by yourself.

-"Old friend of an old friend."-

John glances at you averting your gaze awkwardly, forcing a tiny smile and trying not to look at anyone for too long, Cheyenne's giggle giving off the airs that she didn't particularly care what he introduced you or himself as in the vast coterie of all the other people here present with Terry still being as speechless as can be, trying not to show it, giving a million dollar act. Was he truly going to say nothing to you? Not even a common greeting? Nothing at all? Nothing came to mind? -"Oh, how cheeky!"- The woman next to him exclaims, and for fuck's sake, was he going to take that icicle of seemingly haughty, stoic indifference Terry was toting around and ram it in deep until it bleeds; twist it too, for good measure, until he snaps to his senses. John goes in for the jab. -"So, you tied the knot, did you?"- He asks, even though he knew the answer was negative. He did enough research by now. Terry knew him well enough to be well aware he wouldn't come here unprepared and the way he fidgets in his skin, jaw nearly bending forward in discomfort only proves as much. The woman next to him nearly erupts in laughter at the query. That funny, huh? Like it was the funniest prospect she's ever heard in her life. Your arm interlocked with John's only tightens, like a vice. -"Oh, no, me and Terrence aren’t married!"- Cheyenne throws her head back and for a brief second, John catches Terry's eyes grazing you, lingering there from the edge of his peripheral vision, there's the brilliant vestige of tears in the corner of your stare, firmly tucked away beneath your lashes. -"But, any friends of his are my friends."- She declares jubilantly. -"Margaritas?"- Before a yes or no answer could even properly be given, a uniformed server with a silver tray approaches you, offering you both wordlessly a drink, and going for fair play, John grabs himself a tall beverage, being a gentleman and handing you one too even though he was more of a Scotch or beer type of guy, not whatever green cooled off slop concoction this was, cooler perhaps being only Terry's gaze, watching you and watching him unblinking from across the array of decorative glasses while Cheyenne already disappeared from by his side, making herself busy schmoozing a guest not even two steps away.

None of them dare say a word to you.

Certainly not one of scorn, haughtiness, mockery or criticism.

John was certain that if they did, that he'd set the mansion on fire.

---

-"Why’d you bring her along? Why’d you dredge up the past?"-

The whole thing was tactically hurried; Terry practically ushering him up the second floor of the manor and towards a balcony fenced off transparent glass overlooking the lawn for some privacy. He knew he touched a nerve through the very fact they were in a secluded place, away from the crowd, having this conversation in the first place and that Terry was cutting right to the chance, his body language concealing nervousness, hands in his pockets, shoulders protruding forward defensively. The stance a prisoner of war has when he's being interrogating and trying to convince everyone he doesn't know anything when he clearly does. John speaks dryly. With all the seriousness in the world, keeping his eyes firmly planted on you down below, looking a bit lost but trying to make the best of it, chatting with a maid from across a table spread of elaborate salads. Probably the most preferable company at the whole party, for all intents and purposes. -"Because I believe in a little something called love. You should try it sometimes, Terrence."- John takes the figurative proverbial knife of mockery and digs it in deep and Terry's right there, receiving the blow and returning it in kind just like John knew he would. Terry wouldn't be Terry if he didn't. -"Rich, coming from you! Pushing me away as many times as you did. Disappearing! Wanting to stay gone. Insisting on it no matter how hard I tried. Now, you show up, jumping over the fence of my home, ammunition in hand."- His jaw tightens, hand gripping the edge of the balcony with whitened knuckles, his other free hand pointing vigorously. He was angry. Why, though? If he was quite so happy as he claimed to be? Nothing real could ever be damaged, no matter how much ammunition John brought to the fold. Terry's sudden onslaught of semi-suppressed anger is suddenly replaced by a deep exasperation once his gaze falls down on you; a figure against the green of his perfect lawn. Terry's hand anxiously runs through his loose hair. When did that happen by the way? Did he forget why he tied his hair back so many years ago in the first place? For who? -"Don’t even want to know how she jumped fence. Did you put her on your back or something!?"-

Avoidance.

Avoiding the topic at hand by focusing on random semantics.

Yeah, John put you on his back and climbed over the mansion walls.

What of it?

Would he prefer if he did things the way his new, so-called friends apparently tended to? Discussing on feeding the destitute with Kale over an App? Playing at acceptance and bleeding heart Liberal tolerance and then calling strangers inbred? Pretending that an old army friend was nobody of consequence and that what they've been through out there together, the type of thing someone would write a memoir about, was nothing special either? Would that be preferable?

-"It’s how I do things. You know me. Tough old spine."-

John shrugs and grins into his own chin, self-content.

Terry's weirdly harrowed reaction brought on a warm wave of relish.

He deserved to have the smug, distant aura of coldness wiped off from his face.

If only for a moment.

John steps closer as he spoke.

-"But, you should also know, there was only ever one woman for me, and I loved her all my life. There’s never been another one since."-

He shakes his head steadily, feeling his voice slide forth from the precipice of his mouth with so much firm, unyielding, silent conviction that he could've been easily giving the pledge of allegiance. There's been women in the physical sense. Just not in any that matters. Terry knew that. Terry tried to set him up with the occasional dime piece a million times throughout the years and while John used the opportunity, the epilogue of such acquittances ended the same way; by ending. John thought Terry needed a reminder of that too right before he'd get the bright idea of accusing him of being loveless. Of not knowing what love is. Wouldn't put it past him nowadays. -"I know everything there is to know about it."- John assesses. -"Think you do too, sweetheart."- He adds, semi-snarky, semi-sincere, watching something about Terry's eyes change. A distant shadow falling over them. The distant sunset overcast across the Pacific vista encasing the outline of his features in a hazy red overtone. The view looked like a million dollars from up here. Probably cost as much too. But, Terry wasn't even looking out towards the ocean. He looked down towards you instead --- all alone, walking out towards the row of palm trees separating his garden from his private beach, away from the company of guests engrossed in their mutual conversations. -"Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here having this conversation."- John states matter-of-factly, scrutinizing Terry's averted gaze, staring out into the distance. No, you'd be down there, with the broad you're flaunting and you'd never let her out of your sights, John thinks to himself. Not up here, discussing who's right or wrong with me. Suddenly, Terry's face erupts into anger. Figures. People tended to get mad when someone made them face the truth of things. It was usually their last refuge. -"You don’t have the right to meddle in my private life. The war’s over! This isn’t military hierarchy anymore! We're not out on the battlefield! You don’t know the first thing about me, John."- He seethes through gritted teeth, speaking in a partially hushed, venom-riddled tone as to not disrupt the party going on below. A party lacking its host up here doing cartwheels around sheer facts instead of going down there --- rushing down there, in fact --- grabbing you by the hand and never letting you go again before you get bored of being alone. Embarrassed at being forgotten and overlooked. And you'd decide to leave.

Not know the first thing about him?

Heck, he knew everything about him!

From when he got his last mandatory Malaria shot in the army stationed doctor's office back in the military and how his arm where the needle jab when through swell up for days because his skin was that sensitive to how they used to eat insects, worms and bugs to survive back in that cage in 'Nam. There was nobody who knew Terry like John --- except for you.

-"Sure do."-

John has to laugh.

Not know him? He knew Terry like his own fingers.

Like his own two hands.

Was time for some tough love on the matter.

-"I know Tofu Screw down there laughed at the prospect of being married to you to your face while you couldn’t get your eyes off another woman who looked like she was going to cry because of it."-

John decides to speak clearly, without murmuring it and for once, Terry seems to be rendered speechless, like he knew what he was hearing was legitimate and accurate, mouth agape right before he took to chewing his own lip in agitation, suddenly uneasy in his own skin. If he wanted to go to you, he should just go to you. Now. Right now. Drop this whole charade. Quite pretending he was something he wasn't. Stop neutering himself. Aim for what he really want it and hold unto it. Cease living a lie. Because of all this? It was all a lie. John knew as much and he knew Terry knew as much too. Was never about therapy. About that crap he inhaled into his nose. It was about passion. Terry being built from it. Every drop of blood in his veins singing out for it. He wasn't built for a half-assed existence. Neither of them were. You weren't either, that was for sure. The old wound was rendered open, bleeding inwardly and one last time, John decides to press his finger into it for good measure. -"Not quite the life you dreamed of, huh?"- He prods and Terry's face and eyes shoot up towards him, appearing haunted, like someone who's seen a ghost. At this point, you stood on the edge of his estate next to a wall of pale rocks on a sandy white dune, windswept against the swaying palm trees, quiet and dignified with your beverage in hand. You could've had your children's children with Terry by your side at this point, going for a coastline stroll at dusk. Funny how when you lose one battle, you tend to lose all of them and one domino collapsing leads to all of them following suit; he supposed that's why he took the tournament loss in 1985 as hard as he did even though Terry never quite understood his reasoning, but he came here today to fix that. Fix forty years of mistake making and put back everything in order. Starting with you. Starting with Terry. Because it was better late than never. Things were only ever truly lost when one gave up fighting and if John had to, he'd prefer going down while still wearing his boots. Remembering to blink, Terry practically spits his words. It was all a ploy, of course. A mask. A carefully curated facade. To conceal just how raw he was right now. John would let him have his coping mechanisms, for now, if that's what he needed. To bullshit and delude himself some more.

-"What'd you tell her to get her to agree to come out here?"-

Only the truth, John thought of himself, so help me God.

Terry's hand grabs the edge of his jacket, pulling him closer, squeezing the zipper.

Careful now, or his guests would find their host isn't quite as mindful as he touts himself.

That there was, perhaps, a bit of Cobra Kai still present inside of him.

That it never left. It was merely brumating.

Now rearing its head; waking up.

-"I told you that you never stopped loving her. Did I lie?"-

John drawls steadily and just like that, Terry's fingers let him go and before John can blink, he's already gone, long legs strutting and rushing down the foyer past a baffled member of staff, away from the balcony, practically rushing down the stairs, leaving John behind. Showtime, he thinks to himself, once Terry's voice, loud and abrupt, echoes across the foyer, reaching his ears like a brewing tempest. -"I’ll need the premises cleared out. Now! Show’s over!"- He shouts. John doesn't see it in action, but his senses sure enjoy the sound of complete and utter wrath shaking up the ground floor of the manor. He hears the grand main entrance down below practically swing open with a loud thud and he witnesses Terry, on the lawn, sauntering towards his own guest, hands open, ordering them out. No two ways around it. Baby, now we're talking. Oh, we're back in business, alright --- some pleased, content part of John's whispers in response. As if on cue, the so far unseen security detour scours the premises in black suits, ushering people out, one by one and all it took was one line on Terry's part. That's precisely the man John remembered. The man he called his friend. -"Everyone."- Terry assesses himself and the giggling woman from the newspaper jumps up from the wicker garden recliner, her mouth practically plopping open, Martini glass adorned with a garnish forgotten on a nearby table. -"What do you mean!?"- She practically squeaks, demanding answers in a shrill voice. John didn't blame her, but it was too damn pleasing to see, like scratching a long overdue itch. -"What about my promotion, Terrence!?"- Cheyenne's shock is palpable once one of the dozen bodyguards Terry had on stand placed his hand on her shoulder, ready to show her and her posse out. -"Promotion’s canceled."- Terry clarifies bluntly, offering no further explanations, cutting the cord without remorse. Back turned towards the balcony in his blue blazer, John doesn't see his expression, but he doesn't have to; it was the words he caught from upstairs that mattered. The fact your attention was caught by the ruckus was what mattered. Standing on the beach front, you turn your head to the commotion, slightly perplexed and frightened by all the noise, no doubt --- the sun was sinking into the ocean and the dimmed skyline behind you was nightfall purple, solar torches flickering alive all around the grounds like so many stars.

John was a good friend. Always. One way or another.

Even when his intent was immediately clearly understood.

He'd clear the terrain for you and Terry to be alone.

By any means necessary.

This was war.

The first among many battles.

And he's just won the chief one.

-"Sir, everyone's been told to evacuate the premises."-

One of the waiters fearfully approaches him; some boy in his late twenties by the looks of it, carrying a tray of something he entirely wouldn't mind having, for a change, considering the circumstances and the scene unfolding in front of him. A good Macallan in a massive crystal decanter. Not bad. Not bad at all. Finally --- a man's drink. Was time for a celebration. -"Nope. Don't think I will, kiddo."- John helps himself, grabbing a glass and the bottle at ease, pouring himself some much-deserve refreshments refreshments, turning towards the emptied out garden lawn, watching the dispossessed, struggling girlfriend get carted out and left at the car park, roaring engines hurriedly abandoning the lot, her ginger haired friend with the Habsburg jawline comment in tow. Emile, was it? Good riddance. Sometimes, someone's sole purpose in life was to serve as an example; the example here being, offensive words and shittalking don't come cheap and John Kreese always find a way to dish out payback. Often, much sooner than anyone would've hoped. Life comes at you fast. John brings the edge of the glass to his mouth, relishing the taste of things working out just the way he knew it would, observing Terry cleaning house, guiding the last of his guests out, towards the front gate. Was it tremendously ethical to have one woman moved out only for another one to immediately take her place? Absolutely not. John knew you'd have your reservations. That you'd pity those undeserving of pity because you were a fundamentally good person, just like his Betsy used to be. That you'd pity those who'd never pity you. Who'd barely show you a molecule of respect. That you'd fight against this, in your own way, citing ethics. Kindness. Honor. But, there was no ethics in warfare. Only winners and losers. And this victory belonged to you. To him. To Terry himself. To Cobra Kai. Whether you liked it or not. You'd learn to like it. He sighs, content, the heavy, hearty liquor taste burning his tongue as he addressed the baffled waiter eyeing him he had a pair of horns growing from his forehead. Hilarious. -"But I do think I'll have that drink now. Today deserves a toast."- Terry's form disappears somewhere in the shadow of his palm tree lot on the precipice of the beach where you stood just a moment ago and John knew then that he's done a good job. The rest of the battle was up to his Lieutenant.

John smiles against his hard liquor, enjoying the lays rays of the sunset's golden hour.

He nearly busted out laughing once a question came unbidden into his mind.

Who's gonna eat all that Tofu and vegetable screws now?

---

Desperation.

His heart is pounding like a drum when he finds you by the incoming tide, concealed by the shadow of an Acacia tree from the fallout of the evening, arms wrapped around your torso and he reaches out, on instinct, thirty years of yearning contained in a single touch. You seem like you were worried. Scared. A verge away from crying. Windswept by the salty gusts of air blown in from the coastline. He needs you. Needs you. Needs you so badly, he could imagine myself dying, combusting, if he didn't embrace you here and now, protecting you from everything and anything that surrounded you. Pulling you close to him. You nearly stutter when you see him walking into sight, leaving John in the manor and relying on his security to close the gates and show everyone out into the streets; he was certain half of The Valley would be talking about this by tomorrow but he could always use the excuse that he was an old man who needed his rest and that his guests --- well, they simply stayed longer than propriety allowed. Did it matter? Fuck them all. Fuck everything and everyone. He was happy. Feral. Crestfallen. So many years. So many. He wants to shout at the sky like a lost, howling dog. -"Terry, what's happening back there!? What are you doing here!?"- You ask in a hurry, confused, unsure if you should stay or leave, panic highlighting your voice and your eyes resembling a deer caught in the headlights of a moving car speeding your way. Leave? Not a chance. Not ever again. He'd burn the World down if you ever deprived him of your company for even but a moment. The palms of his hands encircle your face and before he knows it, his body is conjoined with yours with every atom of ache, nostalgia and heartache bleeding together and it feels like time is standing and rushing all at once, caught amidst his fingertips grazing your skin. You're cold.

He'll be your warmth.

Your friend, your confidante, your family, your lover.

He wants to know everything. Absolutely everything.

Every minute, every second of your life between now and 1985.

-"What I should've done thirty two years ago."-

Terry murmurs, kissing you with such a ferocity his yellow shades slide off the top of his head and into the sand under his feet.

Fuck's sake, he could weep.

#terry silver #john kreese #terry silver x reader #john kreese x reader #terry silver x beloved #john kreese x beloved #cheyenne hamidi #cobra kai #kk3 #old man terry #tw; immense amounts of meddling #tw; blast from the past #cobra husbands

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