#How to stay committed to sobriety

[jagruti2020]

[wildemaven]

first anniversary | dieter x poppy

A Sweet Creature

Ava Greene sits down with actor and friend, Dieter Bravo. Hollywood’s new leading man gets candid about life in front of and behind the camera. He talks about his latest movie, his commitment to his sobriety and his newest role— husband?!

Ava Greene: You're approaching three years sober now, how are you feeling?

Dieter Bravo: Probably the best I’ve felt in a long time. Sobriety is a day to day progression that I take very seriously, and I try to not lose sight of that even when I’m having bad days. Though, I’m grateful bad days have been few and far between at this point in my sobriety. I can attribute that to the support system I have built for myself through friends, family, my sponsor that I still work with and most importantly my wife who keeps me grounded daily. They all continue to keep me in check and remind me how awesome my life is, especially right now. Staying clean is a full time commitment, and it’s really a beautiful thing.

AG: You followed in your famous parents footsteps by going into acting and your career and struggles with sobriety have been well documented but your parents have rarely commented publicly, are they supportive of your work and your journey?

DB: For me, I don’t need them to make a show of it by commenting or sharing their thoughts publicly to know they support me. There was a point in time where they did all they could do for me, but ultimately it had to be my choice to make the decision to get clean. Thankfully, we’ve been rebuilding our relationship over the last few years. And being in the public eye for most of our lives, the last thing we want is for outsiders thinking they have a say in our lives. In short, yes I have very supportive parents in all aspects of my life and I’m so happy for that.

AG: This is your second project since rehab, are you viewing this as a comeback or a fresh start?

DB: Comeback? I didn’t know I left… Kidding! Sure, some might say it’s a comeback. A fresh start. Whatever analogy best fits the narrative is fine by me— and I don’t mean that negatively in any sense. I mean, you’ve known me long enough to know I just try not to focus on any of that stuff, messes with my fucking brain waves. I just see it as me doing what I love with a new perspective and a different approach to choosing what projects I’m going to give my time to than I have in the past.

AG: What can you tell us about this project and the character you're playing?

DB: I had the best f*ckin’ time while shooting this film— sorry, but the emphasis was needed. I was really drawn to the vibrancy that this script evoked, even with the serious nature of the storyline and characters. I couldn’t stop thinking or talking about for weeks afterwards. I’d sit with my wife at breakfast and we’d discuss the script and my character for what felt like hours. I knew after I heard her feedback that I needed to be apart of this film— she might have said I’d be stupid to say no to it, in her own loving way.

The film is really about the process of rediscovering yourself. Navigating the challenges that come along with being at your lowest point and leaning on the ones who have been there for you. It’s about finding love in its purest form when you never thought you were deserving of it.

I found bits of myself in this character as we were filming, it was very much a cathartic experience for me. I guess you could say it was art imitating life in a weird way.

AG: There's already been some buzz about this year's award season, do you think this is finally your year?

DB: Ooooh! Is it too presumptuous for me to say yes?! I’ve started dusting the spot where I plan for it to go. I sound like some sort of pompous idiot! Now no one is going to go see it!*

I take it back!

In all seriousness, ‘cause I’m sure Poppy and my agent will be rolling their eyes when they read this. If all I get is a couple nominations, that alone feels like winning. A shiny statue would be nice though— just saying.

AG: You've talked often about your love of art and you recently purchased a gallery. Are you planning to publicly pursue other creative endeavors?

DB: I won’t be joining American Idol anytime soon if that’s what you’re asking. Oh, you weren’t referring to my ability to hold a note during our many karaoke nights— noted!

How did you put it? Other creative endeavors? I’ve got a few art pieces in the works right now that I’m itching to dive back into when I get home. I’ve got a major gallery in LA lined up later in the year for an artist spotlight exhibit, they’ll be housing some of my work through the next year. Shoutout to my wife for getting that all lined up while I was away shooting this film.

AG: What's next for Dieter Bravo? Any other projects lined up you can tell us about?

DB: I’m looking forward to some downtime I have coming up. Poppy has the summer off, so we’ll get to finally live that newlywed life. Settle into the role of doting husband while she does her thing at the gallery.

AG: Off the record, if you got married and didn't tell anyone I will kick yours and Poppy’s ass!

DB: We’re celebrating our one year this month actually. We eloped quietly last year right after we got engaged— wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while. Which reminds me, you and Bryony should hop on a call with Poppy after this. Seeing as I let the cat out of the bag and this is our announcement— surprise!

Huge shoutout out to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for allowing me to borrow her Ava from Conversations with a Movie Star for this. Ava was so gracious and even wrote the questions herself. I’m so grateful for Lellen and all her support and advice she had given me throughout the writing process of Sweet Creature!

Sweet Creature Celebration

[robfinancialtip]

Born and raised in Staten Island, Jeremy found himself drawn to the allure of acting. His story takes a pivotal turn when to alleviate tension, he enrolls in an acting class that sets the stage for his future in the limelight. Juggling an array of odd jobs, from working with autistic children to slinging drinks as a bartender, he embraced the challenges of Los Angeles. This city demanded resilience and tenacity.

Fate intervened, and Jeremy found himself in LA, where he crossed paths with Jerry Ferrara. The struggle of a burgeoning actor navigating showcases for representation is a tale Jeremy shares with candor. He also takes you behind the scenes of an alternative showcase he orchestrated, a chapter in his life that showcased his determination to carve a niche in the competitive acting world.

The spotlight intensifies as Jeremy delves into his collaboration with Joey Russo, culminating in the creation of the show "Small Shots." His joy is palpable as he recounts the hosts' admiration for his performance and the surreal moment when a reenactment from "Casino" caught the attention of Martin Scorsese. This fortuitous encounter led to roles in "The Irishman," alongside legends Al Pacino and Robert De Niro.

Reflecting on the unexpected success of "Small Shots," Jeremy highlights the importance of savoring creative pursuits and staying true to one's passion. The entertainment industry's challenges, his personal journey toward sobriety, and the vital role of teamwork in the industry are discussed with an openness that resonates with aspiring artists.

He teases upcoming projects like "Inside Man" (formerly "The Gemini Lounge") with Emile Hirsch and Lucy Hale, as well as films such as "The Vortex" with Billy Gardell and "Replica" featuring Mickey Rourke under the direction of Paul Tully; Jeremy Luke leaves us eager for what the future holds. In closing, he imparts wisdom gleaned from his path, emphasizing the necessity of maintaining an open heart in the unpredictable realm of creation.

A motivational lesson that stands out is the importance of perseverance, passion, and seizing opportunities. Jeremy Luke's journey from Staten Island to Hollywood is a testament to the power of determination. Despite facing challenges and setbacks, he pursued his passion for acting, even working in nightclubs to support himself.

The podcast highlights how important it is to find and embrace inspiration in unexpected places. Jeremy's encounter with autistic kids during a showcase became a turning point, motivating him to create "Small Shots" to raise awareness.

Moreover, the experience of reenacting a scene from "Casino" with Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro emphasizes the significance of being prepared and ready for unexpected opportunities. Being in the right place at the right time and having the skills to showcase when the opportunity arises can lead to incredible experiences.

The motivational lesson is to stay committed to your dreams, be open to inspiration from diverse sources, and always be prepared to seize opportunities when they come your way. Meet Jeremy Luke, an actor whose journey from the streets of Staten Island, New York, to the glitz and glamour of Hollywood reads like a captivating script. Having graced the screen alongside luminaries like Martin Scorsese and Clint Eastwood, Jeremy's narrative unfolds with tales of resilience, adaptation, and embracing setbacks.

[sinvilles]

I forgot I wrote a one-shot ages ago... context is Orel and Shapey went to visit Clay for the first time since he disappeared after the divorce (maybe a year out) and Orel brings up wanting to live with him on the farm. Danielle has to explain to Orel why that's not going to happen.

Sobriety AU, Orel is around 14ish here.

Danielle guides Orel out to the patio and takes a seat on the bench, gesturing for the boy to join him.

He lets him get comfortable before he drops the headline.

"You can't live with your dad."

A pause settles between the two of them on the bench.

"I just figured that... since he's better now... and he stopped drinking..." Orel trails off, with very little hope.

"He's sobered up..." Danielle sighs, "But that wasn't the only reason he had to leave you."

"Then... why else did he have to leave?"

"It isn't because he doesn't love you, Orel. Your dad has... problems."

"Nobody's perfect..." Orel shrugs, then catches himself. "Except for God."

"True, but your dad's problems make it so that he isn't..." Danielle chooses his words carefully. "Clay is not well equipped to be a very good father to you or Shapey."

Orel stares at the ground, despondent.

"You know this already, Orel. He's not even well equipped to have this talk with you, which is why I have to do it."

"Yeah..." Orel sighs.

"I'm sorry."

"But I can still come see him sometimes, like this?"

"Yes."

"Coach... how are you able to live with him?"

"Mmm. I suppose it's because I'm an adult, and I know how to handle his attitude. And because I'm a coach, I can keep him focused on his long-term goals, like staying off the sauce for good. But the average person might not be able to live with him, no."

Orel nods solemnly at this.

"Did you fall back in love with him?"

The darnedest questions, this kid asks.

"Well, Orel... looking back, I don't think I was really in love with your daddy. I thought he could fill a void in my life. But I didn't really know who he was."

"And now you really know him?"

"Yeah."

"What's different about him?"

"He's trying to be better. He needs somebody reliable to be on his side to motivate him. Even adults need that."

"Golly." Orel contemplates this. "Well, I guess you can't choose who you love."

Daniele seems to stare at something far behind Orel's head before sighing.

"No, Orel. Maybe you can't help who you're attracted to. But loving somebody is a kind of choice you make. Because it means you commit to being in their life and trying to do right by them."

He lets Orel take this in before continuing.

"And I'll admit, there are people who might say it's foolish of me to stand by someone like Clay."

"Because... you're two men?"

"No, because he's done very bad things and used to indulged in very dangerous habits- and so have I, if I'm being honest... But I chose him. And whether he keeps sober or relapses or recovers or falls to pieces, I'll continue to choose him until I change my mind or one of us dies."

Orel's stare prompts him to add an afterthought.

"And he's just... nice to have."

"And to hold?"

The swiftness with which the boy tossed him that statement threw him off. When the meaning registered, it made Danielle smile in spite of himself.

"Yeah... and to hold."

Orel smiles back at him.

"Well... it sure makes me feel better that he has you in his corner."

"I'll keep him out of trouble. Don't you worry your little head."

[raina-at]

Choices

You cannot make a true commitment unless you accept that it’s a choice you have to make, over and over and over again.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and looks at himself in the mirror.

The suit is dark grey and fits him like a glove. It’s simple, elegant. Understated. 

He’s not nervous. He doesn’t exactly know when the change occurred, but he’s no longer uncertain and disbelieving of his luck. He knows, with a certainty he never thought he’d have, that he wants this, that he deserves this, and, most importantly perhaps, that he has the emotional capacity to keep it.

He’s learned more in the last five years than he did in the 30-odd before. He’s learned how the worst choice he ever made—lying about his death for two years— affected everyone around him. He’s learned, slowly, painfully, to make wiser choices. Better choices.

He’s learned, watching helplessly as John made a series of self-destructive choices that mirrored Sherlock’s own worst moments, that sometimes, all you can control is yourself. But that is nobody’s job but your own.

He’s learned what it means to be a family. What it means to be a parent. To be a partner. How every day, you can choose to show up for the people who love you. And how they can choose to show up for you.

He’s learned the impact of big change, and he’s learned the transformative power of small change. 

Both his and John’s sobriety is a bedrock, a cornerstone on which their family rests. Both his and John’s continued emotional honesty is another one. 

But his most important lesson has been how hugely impactful the small choices are. Choosing to read the bedtime story over finishing the experiment. Choosing to endure Bond night over the toes in the freezer. Choosing date night over crime scenes, choosing nights in over a pint, choosing not to flirt back, to hold hands in public. Understanding, on a fundamental level, that all the small choices make up the big ones. That choosing to be the one to cook dinner today is choosing to stay. That taking a deep breath before reacting is choosing to forgive. 

Today, Sherlock thinks as he adjusts his tie and checks the rings one more time, today is significant. It’s legally important, and it’s symbolically important. But in his heart, it’s just one more day he chooses to stay. To fight. To forgive. To love.

He smiles. Today is a good day.

Today is one more day he gets to say yes to John Watson. 

-----

Tags under the cut as always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @salmonsown @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee

[gabessquishytum]

Morpheus is a demisexual incubus. In other words, being him sucks. He doesn't want to have intercourse with any strangers, thank you very much. He's been feeling like a failure for a long time because what's his worth if he cannot perform his function? And he just can't have one-night stands, it feels very wrong to him. Eventually, after centuries of starvation, he finds a solution: he simply creates dreams of a sexual nature for sleeping minds instead of actually having sex. This is much better. Now, he'd really love to find a loving partner...The problem is, the creatures/gods/humans he tries to date all have a very wrong idea of him. Well, they have the right idea of most of his species - incubuses are beings whose existence is defined by sex - but Morpheus looks for emotional connection and a deeper bond…that's why he gets dumped every time he refuses to give it on the first date. Hob Gadling is a sexaholic. He homewrecked a marriage (or two...or three...or four. he didn't count, alright?), left a string of broken hearts in the aftermath of whirlwind nights, and simply ruined lots of chances for a happy, fulfilling relationship. He's been in therapy for some time now to manage his addiction, and he believes he's ready to give a committed relationship a try. He really strives to maintain sexual sobriety this time and be a better partner. When Hob sees a gorgeous dark-haired stranger with electric blue eyes in a cafe, it's love - and lust - at first sight. The man is beautiful, and, oh, what Hob wouldn't give to bend him over in the gents...But hey, he knows it leads nowhere, so he shakes off the reverie and approaches the stranger, trying to keep himself at bay. And to think of serious intentions. Morpheus is very guarded at first: being an incubus, he can see dreams, nightmares, and daydreams of a sexual nature, and he's ready to bolt together with his cappuccino and pain au chocolat the very moment he catches a whiff of Hob's fantasies about him. However, Hob does his best to conceal his struggle, and Morpheus...stays. They talk a bit, and then a lot, and even have a walk in the park. Hob is smart, funny, and very charming. Morpheus immensely enjoys their spontaneous date. When it comes to the end, Hob doesn't invite Morpheus to his place, but he makes it clear that he'd like to see him again. Morpheus is secretly delighted: he's seen a whole Kama Sutra featuring himself in Hob's mind during their date, but Hob is being so sweet and considerate! Perhaps it means something. He agrees to meet again but tries not to get his hopes high. After all, it's just a second date, and his natural allure of incubus is almost impossible to resist even for a person without sex addiction. How many dates will it take for Hob to get into Morpheus' pants? And will he be able not to break his heart and stay faithful? Who knows...

This is SUCH a good au. Good on Hob for going to therapy, I’m proud of him. And good on Morpheus for giving him a chance, despite all the HD dirty thoughts that are projecting out of his brain!

The thing about Hob is, everybody might as well be an incubus, as far as he’s concerned. Every adult person that he meets is a threat to his sobriety. He has those kinds of thoughts on a near constant basis, as Morpheus begins to realise when they spend more time together. And for Morpheus this is actually a huge bonus. Knowing that Hob sees him just as he sees the rest of the world is actually quite soothing. Hob doesn’t want to fuck him because he’s an incubus - he might as well be immune to Morpheus’s sex magic, because he’s constantly at full capacity already! He genuinely likes Morpheus for his personality as well as wanting to get freaky with him.

Plus Hob is one of the more understanding people that Morpheus has spoken to about his demisexualness. Hob has experienced an extremely heightened sense of sexual attraction for much of his life, and it’s always felt out of his control. So he understands what it is to have a different relationship with sex. He’d never want Morpheus to force himself into sex. Although he is somewhat concerned that his friend (date? friend who he is dating?) may not be feeding as much as he should be.

Ultimately they both want the same thing: an emotional bond, a closer connection. Hob is deeply afraid of fucking it up but he really really likes Morpheus, could maybe ever love him? At least he feels like love actually does exist when Morpheus is around. For half a minute he can stop thinking about sex and just think about Morpheus’s pretty blue eyes and his tiny little smile… he’s stopped counting how many dates they’ve been on without fucking. And Morpheus? Well, he’s starting to feel like sex with Hob would actually be rather nice.

Maybe there’s a place for them to meet in the middle. It doesn’t have to be everything or nothing. At the very least, Morpheus is positive that Hob will taste like the most intoxicating of drugs. And he’s starving for it.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello!

22. You're my heart and my home

For Mitch Keller please 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Love Song - Mitch doesn't expect to see you in his bar after all this time.

Clean - Mitch asks you why you're back in town.

With You - Mitch reflects on your past.

Sunshine (NSFW) - You've always been the sunshine in Mitch's life.

It’s the next morning that Mitch asks you the question that’s been playing on his mind all night. You’re operating the coffee machine behind the bar, wearing nothing but his button up shirt when he tugs on his jeans and wraps his arms around you, cradling your close.

“How’s your back?” You ask him, waiting for the beans to brew as he buries his face into the curve of your throat.

“A little stiff.” He mumbles into the curve of your throat. “But that’s pretty good considering we spent the night fucking on the couch.”

Three times you’d ruined him, to say he’s feeling it this morning is an understatement. He needs a hot shower to loosen up some of his muscles but he needs to know…

“Why did you come home?” He asks you. “Why now?”

You lean back against him, sighing as you tip sugar into his coffee mug.

“I saw a Youtube video of you playing a couple of weeks ago.” You say quietly. “You looked clean, happy, healthy. I guess I wanted to see…”

You trail off but Mitch can read between the lines. You wanted to see if it was real, if he’d really kicked the habit or if it was just one of his good days.

“You’ve always been my heart.” You say softly as you turn in his arms to face him. Your palms come to rest on his bare chest, fingertips brushing over the scars etched into his skin from his days in the arena. “You will always be my heart but you know I can’t be around that.”

You’d had your own issues with drugs in the past. It started with a little coke before one of your shows and evolved into an addiction that left you ‘trading favours’ in barroom bathrooms for a fix. You’d been clean for over a year when he met you, preforming on a stage not far from here whilst he’d still been rodeoing. It had been love at first sight.

“I promise you.” He whispers, cradling your face between his hands. “I’m as committed to my sobriety as I am to you, that hasn’t changed.”

“Good, because I want to stay this time.” You say, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck as you draw him closer. “I want to stay, right here with you.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[therealcocoshady]

Life update

TW : Addiction, meds

Hey friends ❤️. This is a rather unusual post for me to make on this blog but I spend so much time on here that’s it’s almost fair to write this.

As a lot of you know (or have gathered by now) my life hasn’t been sunshine and candy lately (or ever, for that matter haha).

I have been swamped with work for my PhD dissertation and I have had to deal with a lot of issues with friends and family. Two days ago was the last straw for me and I ended up relapsing or having a slipping episode (whatever you want to call it). I am well now, safe and getting a bit better. What I did was more a cry for help than anything and, though we contemplated having me committed to an institution, I am home since it is probably the best place for me to regroup. To be fair I don’t have a lot of recollection of the past two days.

I love you guys a lot, this silly little blog as I usually call it means a lot to me and I just wanted to be honest. I am not sure how long it will take for me to update the blog again (because I am not quitting hein !!!) but I think I won’t be blogging as much …

I just felt like sharing and getting a bit more personal today (hope you guys don’t mind). Not asking for anything here, except if you guys have any sobriety apps to recommend (because hey, this is Day 1 after all) and if you want to pray for me, that’s fine as well ❤️

I love you ❤️. Stay safe ❤️.

(Going to listen to some Eminem right now while consciously skipping Arose because otherwise I’ll be a bawling mess for the rest of the week)

[jjasen]

3 a.m.

request: omg part 2 to white lines and black beaches, white lies and black beaches where rafe gets sober for her PLS bonus if there’s more groveling 

warnings: deals heavily with drugs and substance abuse, please read with care

word count: 1.25k

a/n: this in no way is meant to be a romanticization of addiction! if you or a loved one is going through addiction/recovery, please seek help and know that you are not alone!

Rafe’s hands trembled, cold and clammy as he licked his lower lip, his mouth cottony. He kept his phone close to him always, especially now, and he read your text over and over as he convinced himself not to go to Barry for more cocaine. “Stay sober and we’ll see,” he whispered, gripping the cool marble of his bathroom counter. “Stay sober and we’ll see.”

But the idea of sweet relief flowing through his veins, abating his internal conflict and feelings of self-doubt was such a tempting seductress. Just a little, he thought. That’s all I need. She doesn’t need to know. Rafe sank to the floor, his lips trembling, his thumb hovering over your contact icon, and threw his head back against the bathroom wall.

“Rafe?” Your voice from his phone speaker, distant but so familiar, eased some of his itch for the mindless euphoria that he knew would rush, liquid smooth, through his body.

“Tell me it’s not worth it,” he panted at you. “Tell me not to do it.” His voice was raspy, desperate, and you could tell it was taking everything in him to not give in to his cravings.

“Oh, Rafe. I’m coming over, okay? You’ll be okay. Just- just stay there, alright? I’ll be there in five minutes.”

It had been a few days since the party where Rafe promised he would get sober, and you’d spent every waking minute trying desperately not to think about him, about his words. You were curled up in bed, eyes glazed over as you scanned the same page of your book over and over again, not absorbing any of the words, but rather wondering if Rafe would commit to his vow of sobriety. If he really meant it, that he would choose you over the cocaine.

In five minutes flat, you were standing outside of Tannyhill, your heart thumping. You let yourself in, closing the doors gently behind you, tip-toeing throughout the foyer and up the stairs to his bathroom. Even through the door, you could hear his shallow breathing, feel his panicky fear. With your knuckles you lightly rapped on the doorframe.

“Rafe, I’m coming in,” you called softly, clutching your tote bag to your chest.

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of the tawny-haired boy slumped on the marble tile, gasping and trembling. He looked up at you with that brilliant blue gaze, something like shame in his eyes. A silent apology that you had to see him like this.

“You came,” he whispered hoarsely.

You sat down next to him carefully and offered him your water bottle. “You called,” you said. You could tell that he was surprised. Surprised that you showed up, that you were really there, that you hadn’t given up on him long ago. A pang of sorrow for the boy who had been neglected so many times ran through your chest. Wordlessly, you took his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. Despite his shivering, he was warm, and the familiar weight of his palm was soothing. 

You aren’t sure how long you sat with him in silence, the only sound filling the air that of his inhalations, whether hours or minutes had passed while you watch the heaving of his chest subside and his breathing become even and slow, his grasp on your hand slowly relaxing. Despite several months of hooking up with Rafe, you were certain that this was the most intimate and vulnerable of the moments you had shared with him, that some unspoken boundary had been crossed and there was no going back.

Absentmindedly, you rubbed circles into his hand with the pad of your thumb. Rafe cleared his throat. “I blocked Barry,” he said quietly, breaking the silence and turning to look at you, his red-rimmed eyes remaining affixed to yours. “I can do this.”

“Rafe.” You paused to look down at your hand entwined in his, cast in a bluish tint by the moonlight filtering through the bathroom window. “This was always supposed to be a no-strings-attached sort of thing. So that we wouldn’t get hurt.” You looked at him, silently begging him to understand. Do you know how much I want to be able to be trust you? Do you know how much it hurts me to see you like this? 

“Why won’t you just admit that we could be so good together if you’d just give us a chance? Why’d you even come here?” he asked, looking away. You could tell he was frustrated, and you opened your mouth to speak. He cut you off. “No, let me finish. It’s like- like you don’t want to wait for me to become the person you believe I can be. And that hurts.” He exhaled slowly and looked at you, his gaze piercingly bright. “You gotta give me the chance to prove it to you, baby.”

 “Hey,” you said softly, “I really want this for you. But- I don’t even understand why you’re doing this. We were- we were fine just hooking up. Weren’t we?” 

It was certainly easier that way, to keep sex and feelings separate. Easier to just shove away the sparks that shivered down your spine each time he looked at you for just a moment longer than necessary. Easier to ignore the way you had slipped into his life, into his routine, to ignore the way that you had no longer become a placeholder for a relationship, but something more.

Rafe shook his head and chuckled, his voice hoarse. “No. Because- because, shit, baby. You make me want to be better. You make me want to be good. I- I want to become someone who could deserve you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Won’t it be hard?” Your question was so quiet it wasn’t even a whisper.

Rafe blinked quickly, as if he wasn’t expecting you to give in this easily. He looked down, almost bashful, then back at you. “Yeah,” he breathed, nodding. “But it’s not hard when I’m with you. Never when I’m with you.”

Your hand moved of its own accord upwards to trace his jaw, fingertips skimming over the light stubble on his cheek. You could tell that it was taking all of his strength to keep his composure; he let out a controlled breath slowly and closed his eyes. The muscles of his neck strained and his hand tightened around yours. “Please just say something already,” he rasped, opening his eyes and searching yours, silently pleading you to see that there was nothing in the world he needed quite as badly as you.

Softly, hesitantly, you pressed your lips to his. He groaned faintly, almost imperceptibly, reaching to tangle his free hand into your hair, pulling you closer to him. It’s a slow and gentle kiss, and you could feel Rafe smile into the crescent of your mouth. When you pulled back, he rests his forehead upon yours, his eyelids fluttering closed, hand still entwined in yours. 

You sat together contentedly, Rafe’s head resting gently on your shoulder. His eyes closed and his breathing even, several minutes pass in peaceful silence before you realized he had fallen asleep. Smiling down at him, his brow smooth and the corners of his mouth curving softly upwards, you kissed his head.

“I love you,” you whispered. And right now, it’s enough for you to hold his hand and fall asleep on the bathroom floor. It’s enough to have him here with you, with the promise of tomorrow on the horizon.

[missmarthanightingale]

i want to tell you guys a story from my life, about something that really happened in my family, & then i want to talk about that story in relation to what happened between ray & sand in ep10. let me be very clear -- this post is not intended to scold people for disliking ray. part of the reason i waited so long to write this was so i could have confidence that i was being fair & not letting my affection for the character colour what i wanted to say. i would really appreciate it if people who feel negatively about ray in particular took the time to read this & take it into consideration, as a sincere appeal from someone who has alcoholics in her family to really consider some of the ways i've seen this fandom talking about ray's addiction.

so. the story. some half-dozen years ago my uncle was trying to get sober. his marriage was on its last legs & no one wanted his kids to be living with their father while he was going through withdrawal if that could be avoided, so he came to stay with us for a while. my mum did her homework, understood enough to know that he shouldn't have easy access to alcohol in that time, & so we moved all of the alcohol we had to hand into a locked room in the cellar & gave the key to a neighbour for the duration of his stay. it went okay for a little while, & then my uncle had a fight with his wife over the phone, or something to that effect. in one night, he drank three half-bottles of prosecco which we'd forgotten we had stored in the garage.

we didn't even know that alcohol was there. we'd totally forgotten about it. but because we missed it, what should have been a bad night turned into a relapse. keeping alcohol in close proximity to a recovering alcoholic, especially in the early days of sobriety, makes it so, so easy for them to backslide. partly because constantly knowing it's there can wear on them, sure, but mostly because no matter how strong anyone's commitment, there will always be moments when they falter, & the easier it is made for them to relapse in those moments, the likelier it is that they will. & maybe not everyone in this situation would relapse, but you cannot know whether a person will or won't until it happens. most of it's up to factors far beyond your control. it is not worth taking that risk with someone you love.

so trust that i am speaking from bitter experience when i say that sand's home-brewing was always, always going to be a problem. they put it in the opening credits, for god's sake. i was absolutely certain from ep2, when we first found out about the plum wine, that whether ray ultimately tried to get sober or not, the easy access to alcohol that a relationship with sand granted him was destined to be point of conflict between them. sand was always going to have to confront the tension between his relationship with an alcoholic & his main (?) source of income being home-brewed alcohol, & he was always going to have to choose between them. & it is not fair to sand that he has to make that choice, i know. it's fine if you think that he made the wrong choice, or that he shouldn't have had to make that choice at all, but it was inevitable that he would have to, fair or not. because if you have an alcoholic in your life, you are most likely going to have to change your behaviours around them, in big ways & small, for their benefit. this is just how it goes.

i was astonished that there were people who seemed caught off-guard by this fight -- the only thing that surprised me was that it happened before ray was really taking rehab seriously, because i fully expected that this fight would happen after a relapse, likely one involving the plum wine, a couple months into sobriety. there was no version of this show that could both be honest about ray's alcoholism & fail to highlight this conflict at some point. they gave sand this source of income specifically so that sand & ray would have this problem down the line. it was so obvious to me that this was coming, i just took it as a given that everyone else saw it too. & again, this post is not intended to judge anyone for how they have interacted with this show or with this character, that's not what i'm here to do. but i do want to address an element of the way that i have seen some people talk about ray & his addiction.

it is fine if you don't like this character. i am not going to scold you for being understandably mad about the way that he has treated the people around him. but it is very frustrating, & sometimes downright upsetting, to occasionally see people speaking with great confidence on alcoholism despite saying things which i know from lived experience to be inaccurate, or worse, unfair. i am not here to judge you, but i am going to ask you extend a certain amount of grace to this character, & more importantly to all the people who see themselves or their loved ones in him. if you're going to talk about alcoholism, or the aspects of ray's character & actions which are intimately linked with his alcoholism, i would ask you to take some time to make sure that you do actually know what you're talking about. if you're criticizing ray -- & there is plenty to criticize! -- i would ask you to take a moment to think about whether you're really just holding him accountable, or if maybe you're being unduly harsh on him. i think there's more than a few people in this fandom who have some unexamined biases around addiction & those who struggle with it; this is an excellent opportunity for all of us to educate ourselves on this subject. i've been learning a lot about what different structured recovery programs look like; my uncle never pursued one, & i'd never sought out information on that before.

ray isn't real. none of the people he's hurting are real, either. but he & the people around him are a very well-written reflection of a very common, very difficult experience. you don't have to like him, but if you want to understand more about addiction i think he could be a really good starting point for that. if you don't want to, i genuinely get it -- sometimes you just want to watch a show & enjoy it without having to do homework. that's okay. but if that's your position, then please think twice before making public posts passing uninformed judgement on the show's representation of an incredibly complicated & sensitive topic.

i'll reiterate one last time that this post was not intended to judge, scold, or otherwise castigate; i hope that i've managed to maintain an acceptable level of the objectivity i was aiming for, & if i haven't, then my apologies, i definitely tried. if you're going to disagree with some of what i've written, that's fine, but please remember that i wrote all of this based on my personal experience with a family member, & be kind.

[softxsuki]

Hiiii! :3

It's for the 'urgent' request, so, Diavolo (Obey me), Itadori (jjk) and Sinichiro (TR) with a gn!reader who has been sober for a year please! 🙏🏻

Some headcanons of the characters and support to the whole thing and being a year sober!

Congrats to @l1ttleclouds for almost being a year sober, so proud of them (ToT)

Thank youuu! You're an angel and I hope you're okay! ^-^

Diavolo, Itadori, and Shinichiro (Separate) Support Reader Who's One Year Sober

Pairings: Diavolo x Gn!Reader (MC), Itadori x Gn!Reader, Shinichiro x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of smoking, sobriety

Genre: Comfort?

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 690

Summary: In which they support you after being a year sober

[A/N: This was requested for @l1ttleclouds congrats <3 I hope this is enjoyable for you. I was running out of ideas, hence why they're a little short, but I tried my best! ]

Diavolo:

Diavolo was your biggest support system

He had the power and resources to get you the help you needed and it was all worth it

A year sober was just a start but he was ready to stay by your side and continue that streak, making one year into two, and two into three, and so on

He celebrates all your milestones very grandly, of course with just the two of you, there was no reason to tell the whole of the Devildom, unless you were okay with it

Because lowkey he would like to host a grand celebration with everyone to congratulate you in your hard work and progress of staying sober

He admires you greatly so this proof of your strength makes him undeniably proud of you

“I’m so proud of how far you have made it this year staying sober. Sobriety is a difficult journey and I saw how hard it was for you at first, but it’s already been a year and I’m confident you’ll make it even farther. You have me forever and always, please know that I’ll always be here to support you. I love you with all my heart”

The only thing he encourages and always reminds you to do, is stay transparent and honest with him if things start getting hard, or about any concerns, triggers, or urges along the way that you may have

He wants to be able to come up with the best plan with you to support your journey of sobriety, so please stay open and truthful with him, he values that greatly

Itadori:

Yuuji is passionate about the people he loves

So you already know he was by your side every step of the way through your sobriety journey

And being one year sober is just a huge celebratory moment for him

He never once thought you couldn’t do it, in fact, the whole time he cheered you on

Yuuji was your shoulder to lean on, on the days when it was hard, never once did his smile or support waver–he was always there and would always be there

He’s cautious around you and makes sure others are as well, not wanting to accidentally trigger you and cause those past urges to come back

“I’m so happy that you’ve made it this far, and I can’t wait to be by your side through the rest of your journey through sobriety. You know, you inspire me to work harder and be better as well. I want to be someone who can shine brightly beside you and lift you up”

Truly as supportive as they come, he’s just full of love to give to you no matter what you’re going through

Shinichiro:

Ahh this beautiful man is so precious to you

He even gives himself the goal to quit something, so he stops smoking as well, wanting to make a commitment along with you so you weren’t struggling alone

And also because he felt like it might make you feel worse if he was openly doing things like that around you when you were trying to quit

He’s extremely protective of you and gets upset if anyone talks or does anything that might make your urges come back during your journey of sobriety

When you finally hit that one year milestone, he’s beyond elated

Seeing you full of life, away from the things that once held you down is beautiful to him and he couldn’t be prouder of you

Probably takes you out to celebrate to your favorite place, on his bike of course

“You’re even stronger than I am. I’m proud of you, Y/N.” He picks up his glass filled with soda and raises it in your direction, “Here’s to one more year, let's keep it up”

Words would never really be able to express how impressed and proud he is of you and this huge accomplishment

He wants nothing more than for you to be happy with yourself, and seeing you walk the road towards that is more than he could ask for

You have his undeniable love and support for years to come

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 10/19/2023

[http-paprika]

Bite the Hand / Phillip Graves

⋆★⋆ part seven - exile ⋆★⋆ masterlist ⋆★⋆ previous ⋆★⋆ next ⋆★⋆

summary after frost exiles herself back to wyoming, she must cope with the grief of her past and plan for the future.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 1765 / warnings references to childhood abuse & parental death

notes you thought this was going to be the chapter where everything comes together? well, hate to break it to you but frost has commitment issues and graves kinda sucks at relationships. but who knows, maybe a change of scenery is all they need.

Bones aching as the truck pulled to a slow, Frost buried her face in her hands. The plains around her were vast, stretching to the snow-jagged peaks. Soon, the whole landscape would be blanketed in white snow and black ice. It was the season she dreaded most as a girl, every morning Frost would bundle up in her father’s old work jacket while he’d scrape the snow off the windshield swearing about taking her to school. 

 Wyoming was as lonely as it was vast, not even the mountains seemed to break up the endless sky. The wind blew against her truck, sheep bleating in the pastures as Frost tried not to recant why she’d returned. She’d wanted to blame it on everything and everyone but herself, but in the end, it was by her hands that she’d left Texas. Left the Shadow Company, and left the man she thought there was a future with. 

 Finally gathering what courage she had left, the soldier got out of her truck. Boots collecting dirt as she walks up the drive onto the creaking porch where her uncle sat. The graying man looks up at her, his face lined with wrinkles and age. It was hard to believe that sixteen years had passed since she’d left the farm. Frost hadn’t even bothered to return when sent the news that her father had passed.

 “I thought you wouldn’t come back.” Her uncle spoke up, sitting back in the old rocking chair. “Your father always swore you’d never come back. Wouldn’t have blamed you.”

 “Things change.” She responds, glancing back over to the pastures of woolly creatures. “I just need some time. Few weeks, and I’ll be out of your hair, Richard.”

 “I don’t mind. It’s just me and the ranch hand during the day. I could use the company.” Frost’s aunt had left when she was just a girl, only a winter after her mother had passed. It had left Frost to learn a lot on her own about becoming a woman, always too afraid to bring it up to the two men. “And the help.” 

 She nods, adjusting the duffle bag over her shoulder. “Right.” 

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“I’m leaving,” Frost tells him, her voice quivering with uncertainty as she stands in Graves’ office. The winter sun bleeds through the blind, casting a halo of light across his head. “For the best interest of the pack and you, I’m resigning.” 

That confidence she’d gained that night, after kissing that stranger, had quickly evaporated. Maybe it was sobriety, or maybe it was how quickly Phillip had become withdrawn in an attempt to shoulder the pain. There were no longer stolen glances during meetings, whispered approval as she geared up. And when he’d taken a bullet through the shoulder which was now hanging in a sling, it had been the end.

 Maybe Frost had hoped he would speak, argue back, and order her to stay. But he didn’t, his gaze dropped down to the desk as Graves nodded. There was a flicker of shame on his face as he ducked his head, guilt surging through her veins. It had been her fault, she’d pushed him away and he’d responded accordingly. He was getting older, he needed someone willing to mate, to commit. And despite her best efforts, she wasn’t ready.

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The kitchen was dimly lit as Frost sat back in her old chair, the smell of burnt beans and rice making her stomach twist with unease, her nose scrunched. Before her, the plate of mush steamed as she waited for her uncle to return with what Frost had asked for.

 “Here they are. A little faded, but still useful.” Her uncle announces, setting the moth-eaten map of the farm’s property lines down on the table. “Your father had always done a good job of going out and keeping them marked, I haven’t been able to due to my knees.” 

 Frost nods, pushing away the plate to get a better look at the markings. Cooking had always been her father’s job, he wouldn’t let her uncle in the kitchen except to clean up. It was the one thing he’d done lovingly, making sure bellies were full before sending them back to work. 

 “When was the last time someone marked them?” Frost needed to hunt, especially if the only food her uncle made was burnt. More so, Frost wanted to establish her scent over the property like her father used to do. There were no packs in the area, but she wanted to keep nomads away from the sheep.  

 “Oh, I sent the old ranch hand to do them in the spring after the last snow of the season,” He tells her, sitting down with his plate of beans and rice. It was no surprise to her that he dug into the food without a complaint, his taste buds were dying and his human nose didn’t pick up on the rancid smell like she did. 

 “And what about the upkeep of the farm, what is the new ranch hand actually doing?” She asks, worried about the state of the farm. As much as the place brought her grief, it was the home of her childhood, the place her mother had passed away. “Richard?” 

 Her uncle bawls up his fists, the silverware shaking in his hands. “He’s just here for the sheep, keeping them healthy and fed until the spring. It’s been since your father passed, he ran this place better than I ever can. 

 Frost lets out a scoff, shaking her head and feeling pity for the man. Despite being the eldest son, her uncle had let all responsibilities fall to her father. Long before he’d been bit and turned, her father had already been seen as a leader in the family. Broad-shouldered, thick skull. For all her father’s flaws, which were many, he was a hard worker and took care of his own.

 “You’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t you?” 

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 “I’ve worked my ass off my whole life for your little ungrateful wretch not to give a damn.” Her father snarls over the phone. Frost sits in the infirmary, the thick gauze wrapped around her ribs as she tries not to fall apart again. As if a bullet that should’ve killed her and a bitter betrayal by the man she once loved wasn’t enough, Frost had to listen to her father’s griping as he lay in a hospital, thousands of miles away on his deathbed. 

 “I’m not coming back.” She repeated to him, her grip on the phone tightening. “I don’t care if you’re about to die, I don’t fucking care if Richard can’t run the ranch on his own. I’m not going back to Wyoming.”

 Hadn’t he turned his back to her the day of Frost’s eighteenth birthday? Didn’t he vow not to call her again when she packed her bags to leave for the Marines? But in his most dire times, he’d realized he needed his daughter, and Frost had never hated him more. 

 When her uncle Richard had called the following day to tell her that her father had passed, she didn’t grieve. There was no weeping, not a single tear. His death was a comfort, the scars on her back didn’t seem to burn anymore. Even if she’d lost all else, Frost was free from him. 

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 A frustrated huff escapes her lips as she rubs the stained material of an old t-shirt of hers against the bark of a tree. The musk of her scent clings to the wood as she moves through the underbrush. Cowboy boots that belonged to who knows crunching against the drying winter grass. 

 Frost wipes her face as she pulls back out the property map, mentally marking where she is. Not too far from the river that created the southern border, the one Frost had fallen in one summer as a girl where she’d hastily learned to swim. If it weren’t for the bright sun, she would’ve had hypothermia as her mother bundled her up in an old, red flannel on the porch. 

 She turns back against the wind, returning to the house through pastures, past sheep who bleat and run. They were simple creatures, she couldn’t blame them for trying to stay away from the wolf in human’s skin. They’d only ever responded to her father out of fear, the man was a shrewd shepherd. 

 In the barn, Frost drops the rifle off her shoulder. The pile of logs for firewood beginning to bother her. She’d quickly learned the ranch hand wasn’t much help, barely an adult who never seemed to pay attention. A smirk crossed her face, she was certain her father was rolling over in his grave at the state of the ranch. 

 Finding the ax, and scraping it against the sharpening block; the noise made her teeth ache. She returns out into the winter morning, her thermal clinging to her stretching muscles as the ax swings. It cracks through the wood with one slice, the wood falling to the side as she grabs for the next log. 

 The ranch hand calls her name as the logs turn into fine slabs of wood for the furnace. With sweat clinging to her brow, Frost turns his attention to the boy. “What?” 

“Richard wants you up at the house, there’s someone for you.” The boy tells her. She groans, jamming the ax into the chopping log before waving him off. Anyone who’d traveled this farm out must’ve been determined, there wasn’t even a sign for the ranch on the road. It was far from the beaten trail, the way she liked it. 

 Jacket in hand, she slowly returns to the house. Freezing at the sight of a black, shiny truck with a Texas license plate parked next to her battered one. It was a coincidence, Frost tells herself as she mounts the stairs into the house. Her ears must’ve been deceiving Frost as she listened to the two voices in the house. The sweet, southern drawl made her throat tighten. 

 And when she turns the corner into the kitchen, Frost is certain she’s hallucinating. Blue eyes gleaming in the morning light, the stubble thicker with the cold, and a tantalizing look of guilt that makes her heart swell. 

 “Hello, Frost.” Her former commander greets her, standing taller and putting his best foot forward. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he was hurting more than she was. Gray hairs seemed to be caught in the light from the window, tired eyes drooping as they met her gaze.

“You came?”

“I had to.”

taglist (comment to be added or removed) @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus @unicorngirly1 @pampanope

[sinvilles]

do you think if clay met danielle instead of blobs at that wedding reception he would still turn out a piece of shit?

I love a thought exercise hehehoohoo

So the first assumption is that they both crash the wedding by accident, and then they crash the reception together (or maybe Danielle knows Fakey so he’s a friend of the groom?).

The major divergence being that instead of Bloberta pushing highballs on Clay, it’s Stopframe trying to get into his baby blue slacks. Danielle and Bloberta are very different people. Bloberta was a fledging alcoholic desperate to leave the nest. We can assume Danielle was in college or looking to pursue athletics.

And Danielle is a star athlete- he’s got medals and awards in his office in the series. A good athlete understands the importance of choosing sobriety and wouldn’t question it when Clay says he doesn’t drink. Whatever, they order sodas or apple juices. This is scenario A.

In scenario B, Clay actually decides to have his first drink on his own. He wants an excuse to lower his guard around Danielle, because he’s attracted to him and if he does anything dirty he figures he could just blame it on the drink.

This goes either of two ways: he makes a complete fool of himself and Danielle has to take him home early, or Danielle stops him when he thinks he’s had enough. Either way, the drinking is incidental and because Clay doesn’t hate his new friend/potential boyfriend, he doesn’t make a habit out of it and doesn’t need to use it to self medicate/cope.

In C, the worst case scenario, the drinking becomes habitual and he just becomes your garden variety gay alcoholic. So he becomes the second worst version of himself- because this time he doesn’t have to fake being heterosexual and doesn’t have a son who might bear the brunt of his drunkenness. This version of Clay stuck to his guns and never got married.

BUT- and here is the but- the drinking wasn’t everything. Clay and Danielle both have narcissistic qualities, as well as complementary qualities.

PROS

Danielle, showing up early in his life, could open his mind up regarding religion- I don’t think Clay would ever abandon Christianity, but he would be a lot less stringent about how he interprets it, and more forgiving to himself.

Plus because Clay doesn’t have a family, he doesn’t go into politics to support them. Hell, he can pursue whatever he wants- and I think being a professional taxidermist would be up his alley. If anything Danielle would encourage his morbid eccentricities because he himself is full of them.

and I think a sex life he genuinely desires and enjoys and wants to be mentally present for would do wonders for his self esteem

CONS

on the other hand, they are young and stupid. Danielle has weird tastes in the bedroom that lose their intrigue the more extreme they get. Clay, who has very little self esteem, lets him degrade him until he’s had enough of it.

Plus Danielle has a streak of limerence in him and this isn’t the Clay he got obsessed with- he is HIGHLY likely to cheat on him, and we know how Clay needs to be the only one in someone’s life.

Once the honeymoon stage wears off, it gets harder for them to stay together. They don’t have the patience to commit, and it’s not like they’re legally married. I think if they got together in early adulthood, they’d break up in early adulthood.

and somehow, Clay is better off for it. He is more confident in his sexuality and gets on with his life on his own. Maybe he cruises on the side. Maybe he gets lonely sometimes. Maybe he wonders what it would be like to be a father. But he’s sure as fuck not trapping himself with a woman, and is smarter about his use of alcohol. I like to think he opens a Taxidermy and Curiosity Shop.

he can still be a self absorbed piece of shit sometimes, but a start in his early adulthood where he doesn’t make any of the choices that made him miserable means he’s more likely to like himself. And if he likes himself, why bother anybody?

here’s my take on this alternate universe

[floral-force]

Hi! I love your work and I have seen that you are looking for Frankie Morales requests. So I'm here.

I was thinking about post break up Frankie and the prompt "i was made to love you." Maybe he fucked up, but they have kid so they have to see each other often and he just can't make himself love somebody else. So maybe getting together again?

ok so fair warning this is very angsty (but it has a happy ending I promise). I was in a mood while writing this, but I'm happy with how it turned out. this was a great way to practice frankie, especially since I love soft!frankie. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie! ♥️

requests are open! send me an ask!

I Was Made to Love You

francisco "catfish" morales x f!reader

summary: Frankie’s mistake cost him your relationship and your love. You remain connected through co-parenting your daughter, but you never forgave him for what he did. Despite it all, something still remains, waiting to be discovered.

words: 2k+

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, infidelity, angst (with a happy ending), soft!frankie, mentions of pregnancy and labor (nothing graphic/detailed), brief mention of sobriety/implied past addiction, mother!reader, I'm bad at titles

read on ao3 | fic masterlist

You got up from your spot on the couch to answer the door. As soon as you opened it, you were greeted with a squeal from your smiling daughter, Isabella. You crouched down and scooped her into your arms with an oof.

“Hmph—Baby girl, you’re getting so big! Mommy won’t be strong enough to hold you soon,” you laughed, running your finger across her small, soft cheek.

She pouted and your breath caught in your throat. She had Frankie’s mouth, and her little pout was nearly identical to his. It always threw you off and reminded you of one of your first dates, back when you were both young and in your mid-twenties. You’d gone to the aquarium together, and he threw that look your way to get you to buy something dumb for him—a goofy fish plushie that made him smile like a dork. You were going to get it anyway, but you couldn’t resist when he gave you that puppy dog face.

Sometimes, in the pictures he sent you of Isabella, she was holding it.

You dated for four years, and he proposed just a month before you showed him a positive pregnancy test. Isabella was definitely not planned, and both of you always thought you’d live a childless life, but something must have changed. Frankie became a different person after you both discussed whether to continue the pregnancy or terminate it and chose to keep it. He’d been sober for a few years at that point and made even more of an effort to stay committed to it.

“For you, and for my little girl,” he’d said, placing a calloused hand on your bump.

“How do you know it’s a girl, Frankie?”

He’d shrugged and gave you that sly smirk you adored. “Just do.”

Frankie was right and made sure you never forgot about. He’d let out a cheer at that appointment, getting a stern glance from you that instantly cracked when you saw how joyful he was. You’d never seen him that happy. It had brought tears to your eyes, and it still did when the memory randomly crossed your mind.

He built her crib, saying he’d tell her one day about how her mom was constantly pulling splinters out of his hands. Frankie read all the books he could. Went to every appointment. Comforted you when everything hurt, got you whatever you were craving, told you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were. Frankie was there the entire time you were in labor, never leaving the room unless you—not the doctor, not the nurses, you—told him to. 

“What if I’m a bad mom?” You’d asked one night, still catching your breath from the orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you.

“Don’t say that,” he’d murmured against your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin. “You’re the most incredible, beautiful, and caring person I know. You’re going to be a great mom.”

Frankie was a fighter, a protector, and stubborn as hell. You loved him dearly for it, and loved the way he made you feel special and adored. Around others, he was quiet, but you didn’t mind. His hand was always holding yours or on the small of your back. He wasn’t afraid to show you his intense enthusiasm and endless affection for you—not just during your pregnancy, but throughout your relationship. That made it even harder to accept what you saw on his phone that night in December. 

You’d called off the engagement when Isabella was just a month old; she’d been asleep in her crib when you confronted him about the woman who was texting him nudes—and why he was responding. You asked him why it’d been going on since your second trimester, why he did it, how he could hurt you like this. He’d begged for your forgiveness, but it was too late. He sobbed when you told him he had 3 days to pack up his stuff and leave. In an act of mercy, you told him he needed to remain in Isabella’s life. You refused to let your daughter grow up without her father, even if he’d crushed your heart under his boots.

To his credit, Frankie was a man of his word—when it came to Isabella, at least. He always picked her up when he was supposed to, made sure to get a two-bedroom apartment and fill her room with toys and books, and spent as much time as he could with her now before co-parenting became difficult with preschool on the horizon. She had just turned 3, and in the spring, you were going to start looking at programs. 

For now, though, you planted a kiss on her forehead and smiled at her adorable giggle.

“Isabella, why don’t you go up and say hi to your stuffies?” You set her down and she nodded, her eyes twinkling up at you. 

You watched her climb up the stairs, then turned to face Frankie. He’d set her small duffel bag down inside the door, his feet still planted on the cement of your porch. You saw his Adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow, noticed his fists clench. His ratty green shirt complimented the golden skin you used to run your fingers over, the mossy shade one you’d always loved on him. You had a sneaking suspicion this was one of the shirts you’d gifted him all those years ago. He stared at you with big doe eyes, adjusting his navy blue ballcap and disturbing his dark brown hair with a shaking hand.

“Thanks for taking care of her this week,” you said, breaking the tense silence. “I know it was really last minute, but my mom needed me home.”

“Of course,” he replied, that gravelly voice that you used to love hearing whether it was whispered in your ear or moaning it into the night tugging at something within your chest. “Anything for her.”

You nodded and looked at your feet as you rocked back and forth, crossing your arms. Defending yourself from him. There was something brewing inside of him, and it was about to spill over—you could see it in his nervous swallows, the way he cleared his throat, how he shifted and hunched his shoulders forward. It was never good news when he got anxious like this. He always complained about your intuition, but you told Frankie that he was just easy to read. You loved that about him.

He said your name, his voice cracking. You looked up at him, meeting his glassy gaze.

“Listen, I—I—” he groaned and clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked back up at you with watery chestnut eyes, and you inhaled sharply. Goddamn, those eyes. “Fuck, I—I don’t know how to say it.”

“Hey,” you said softly. “Just say it, Frankie.”

He took a deep breath and looked straight into your eyes. “I can’t live without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You didn’t have this epiphany before you traded pics with that—that—” you shook your head and lowered your voice. “I don’t have the fucking time for this. I’ll see you next week.”

You went to push the door closed, something tightening in your chest—sadness? Anger? Grief? You didn’t want to keep looking at him, you knew that much. Before you could even move it an inch, his large palm slapped against the wood and stopped it. You glared at him and clenched your jaw. 

“Please, listen to me.”

“And why should I?” you spat. 

“Because I love you, dammit!” He raised his voice, something he rarely did. He didn’t even do it when you confronted him that snowy night. Frankie rubbed the back of his neck and his voice wavered when he said your name. “I never stopped loving you.”

You felt your body shaking, your eyes watering. You gripped the edge of the door and looked him dead in the eyes, hoping he could feel the anger radiating off you.

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have broken my fucking heart. You wouldn’t have cheated on your fiancée while she was 20 fucking weeks pregnant.” You felt your lip begin to quiver. You hissed, “I was carrying your goddamn baby while you were fucking her over the phone, Frankie!”

“And I’ll never forgive myself.” He stated. You saw tears slide down his cheeks, both red with emotion. “I think about it every fucking day. I think about you every day.”

You looked up at the doorframe and gazed out at the sunset sky, clouds painted in oranges and reds with splashes of golden yellow. You chuckled in disbelief and put a fist on your hip. “Should’ve thought about that before you got her number at a bar.”

“Do you really think I’d do half the shit I do for you if I didn’t love you?” he snapped, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. The sight of it made one roll down your hot cheek. “I don’t have to come over and fix a leaky pipe or help you negotiate at the dealership. I could just fuckin’ tell you to ask your dad or call a plumber.” 

Frankie sighed and slumped his shoulders forward in defeat. A part of you liked seeing him hurt like this, like you had—but another part of you ached with him, yearned with him. When you remained silent, sniffing and wiping your nose and cheeks with the sleeve of your cardigan, his face broke and he looked exactly as he had three years ago when you’d railed into him. Broken, anxious, uncertain—something Frankie never was.

“Frankly, I don’t think you hate me if you still text me and ask for my help.” Frankie’s lip shook and he rubbed his hand across his scruff-covered jaw. “I think a part of you still loves me, too.”

You clenched your jaw and snapped, “I’m polite with you because of Isa—”

“No, no.” Frankie interjected. He waved his hand and gave you a somber shake of his head as he said your name. “I know you. You can’t hide how you feel, even when Isabella is in your arms.” He chuckled, something sad underneath it. “You never could.”

You hated that he was always fucking right. It made you straighten and purse your lips. “Then what, Frankie? What do we do?”

“I have no damn clue,” he admitted with a shy smile. 

It reminded you of the one he’d given you on your first date. He didn’t know it then, but he’d had your heart from the first smile he sent your way. Boyish and sweet but rugged at the same time, hardened and aged beyond his years. Charming without trying, whether he knew it or not.

“All I know is, I was made to love you.” 

Your sob got caught in your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt tears start to stream down your face like waterfalls. Frankie’s rough thumbs wiped them away, just liked they had so many times before. He still remembered that you loved it when he stroked them across the top of your cheeks, his other fingers gently laying over the lower half of them and gracing along your jaw. You didn’t push him away or ask him to stop. 

Why was he always right? Maybe you were easier to read than you thought. Or, maybe, you were made for Frankie, and he was made for you. You opened your eyes to see his only inches away, the corners of his crinkled with a gentle smile. Those soft lips, that sweet voice speaking your name, those crying eyes—they were yours as much as they were his. That tight string in your chest snapped, and you realized that although you may not forgive him for what he did, you still loved him. And you wanted to start again.

When you nodded and smiled through your tears, Frankie grinned like he had when you found out you were having a girl. Joy at the thought of starting something new and from the thrill of being right about something you doubted. Joy only you could ever spark within him. The thought of that made you warm inside. It would take time, that was for damn sure. But you were willing to try. You were made for this man as much as he was made for you.

reblogs and comments are so appreciated! I love hearing what y'all have to say <3

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taglist:

@hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal @notsosecretspy

[ortonrk]

the basics:

full name: randal keith orton nicknames: the viper, the apex predator, the legend killer prefers: randy, rko birthdate / age: april 1, 1980, 44 yrs old pronouns / gender: cis male, he/him residing: st. louis, mo relationship status: single sexual preference: often

headcanons / personality traits:

twice divorced, still unable to commit.

randy’s still got a few demons he hasn’t bothered to tame. one of the biggest being his wandering eye. both of his marriages went down in flames when he got caught cheating, and he owned up to it without a second thought. he’s quick to admit he’s the problem, but old habits die hard.

his first divorce? that happened when his wife came home early from a trip and found him entertaining a couple of weekend visitors. his second divorce? that kicked off when his wife found photos and videos of (tba) on his phone.

sexuality: frequently explored.

randy avoids labels and serious relationships because he’s torn between wanting freedom and craving closeness. his hesitation to commit and tendency to cheat usually result in short, dramatic flings. even though he doesn’t want to settle down, he often ends up falling hard for people and dealing with serious jealousy. at times, he struggles with treating people as if they were possessions.

dedicated family man, fiercely protective and private.

despite his divorces, randy stays devoted to his children. he makes quality time with them a priority and is actively involved in their lives, including those of his stepchildren. he works hard to keep a respectful and supportive co-parenting relationship to provide a stable and loving environment.

while this portrayal acknowledges them, he won’t post photos or media of his children and i ask you respectfully do the same (reblogging gifs or photos with them visible). they’re underage and it’s a little weird if they were ever to come across them.

loyal friend, highly selective inner circle.

randy has been in the business for many years, yet he can still count his closest friends on one hand. despite having a small inner circle, those who are close to him describe him as fiercely loyal and caring. he places a high value on trust and loyalty in his friendships. however, once that trust is broken, he is quick to sever ties without hesitation.

confident, reserved but unyielding.

randy’s confidence can come across as arrogance, and though he’s mostly quiet and reserved, he doesn’t shy away from confrontation. he has little tolerance for disrespect and can have a short temper, though he's improved in managing it. despite this, he deeply values loyalty and respect and is quick to defend himself and those he cares about.

completely sober.

since announcing his sobriety in 2022, randy has been proudly maintaining it. he is committed to staying sober and will not be breaking his commitment. while he doesn’t avoid events with alcohol, he hopes you respect his journey and refrain from trying to tempt him. all his shitty decisions are made sober.

proud video game nerd.

throughout his life, randy has been vocal about how important gaming is to him. for him, it’s a way to disconnect from the world and clear his mind. injuries have also given him plenty of idle time, making gaming a welcome escape. some of his favorite games include call of duty, starfield, elden ring, and assassin’s creed.

shipping and other ooc notes:

my direct messages are open for plotting. randy is a polarizing character, either loved or hated with no middle ground. i’m interested in exploring messy plots with him, even if they’re in the past. if you need an ex who broke your heart, randy can fit that role (preferably 26+). keep in mind, randy isn’t a prince charming; any ship if at all will require chemistry and effort. writer is 21+ and on est.

connections wanted:

• friends friends friends friends • the person he was lusting after that caused the demise of his marriage • people he has hooked up with throughout his career. one night stands, crazy hookups with no holds barred • people he has beef with from his past • someone he doesn’t want to admit he has feelings for but is extremely possessive of them (and vice versa) • any relationships/situationships that ended badly • younger talents he mentors within the business and treats like his children “do as i say, not as i do”

[chickensarentcheap]

I don't think they're particularly ready for that talk, but they know they have to have it. His sobriety is extremely important for them to have any kind of a real future together. In E2 he was still drinking. In every scene when he got home, there was beer in it. I'm not sure she'd even be willing to work with that. I think she would rather he just stay clean and sober altogether because he was in a very unstable place with his addictions when they met. It didn't stop her from falling in love with him or wanting to be with him, but I think they both realize that something lon- term can't be successful if he goes back to old habits.

2. He has been referred to a therapist where they are. But in Vienna. And he's willingly accepted that he definitely needs it and it will help him being able to move on from what happened. That being said, he really thinks Esme needs it too. That she has her own PTSD that she isn't addressing, but really should.

3. They began noticing stuff in Dhaka when they were sharing that hotel room. Just his little OCD tendencies and liking things very neat and tidy and orderly. The way she wraps herself up in all the blankets and sleeps with just the top of her head and toes showing. his snoring, her talking in her sleep lol. Just to name a few things lol. How she's very much bright and bubbly from the time she gets up. Very chatty. And well, he's not lol

4. They've had some light conversation about hey, we both consider this very serious and we're committed to one another and making a home and a future together. There's been passing mentions of perhaps marriage and having a kid or two. They haven't put a lot into those discussion, but it's on their minds and theyre thankfully on the same page

5. He's nervous. Not about having them with her. He has no qualms about her about being the mother of his kid(s). Just about being a father again and not wanting to 'fuck it up' a second time. He's nervous. About being the guy he was back then.

6. He loves just how 'right' it feels. Being with her. Not tiring of her. Wanting her around him constantly. Loving the sound of her voice and her laugh and seeing that smile of hers. He just enjoys HER as a person. And he's never had that level of comfort with someone. Or that kind of trust where he allows himself to be open and vulnerable.

7. Like Tyler, things just feel 'right' to her. And things felt 'right' to them in Dhaka, which is why they allowed themselves to even become 'involved' instead of just pushing each other away. Esme loves seeing the different sides of him. The ones that exist outside of mercenary life. He's softer with her. The way he speaks, the way he looks at her, the way he smiles. How even as he recuperates, he wants to take care of her and protect her. He's quickly become her best friend and she trusts him wholly and completely. She can tell him anything. Ad he makes her feel safe and protected. Even if he's still not one hundred percent. She just likes being with him. She likes him as a person. And he makes her feel loved and respected and even worshipped.

@tragiclyhip