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captainjamster · 2 months

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Underrepresented!Reader Series

Pairing(s): Price x recovering drug user reader Warnings: Discussions of drug use/abuse, contemplation of driving under the influence Wordcount: 2.1k Summary: An impulse to relapse in your sobriety is halted when John catches you sneaking out. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Terribly sorry to be selfish, but I have to admit, this one is entirely for me. I am genuinely nervous to post this one, I know the world isn't always friendly in its perception of individuals struggling with substance usage, but we're sending it.

Full fic is under the cut <3

The urges have been picking away at your sanity for the last week.

Each floorboard creaks a song of your deception, calling out their weary complaints tauntingly with each step you take, and you pray the noise isn’t loud enough to wake John. It was easy enough to untangle yourself from his limbs, kissing his temple and murmuring something about the toilet when he reached for your departing figure with a sleepy grumble. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom was more challenging, the door pushed open and tugged close again just for effect, straining your ears with the air caught in your chest as you waited for his breathing to even out into deep, rumbling snores.

The further away your bedroom gets, the more your resolve begins to crack as you ride the dip of the overwhelming desire, rationality fighting through the impulses that beg to occupy your conscious thoughts. It’s not too late to turn back, slip under the covers again and back into John’s arms. Feel the grunt vibrate through his chest when you let him know you just needed a glass of water from the kitchen, that’s all, and fall back asleep to face the same dilemma all over again in the morning.

You keep walking, focusing your attention on the careful placement of your feet as the floor turns from wood to tiles, trying to drown the cacophony of thoughts rattling through your head. Though the kitchen is far enough away from the bedroom that the noise should die before it travels, you can’t help the hesitancy you move with. Like maybe if you’re quiet enough, the guilt eating at your chest will be, too.

Looking out the window that peaks between the curtains, droplets of rain are illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. Your pyjamas are too thin and skimpy for the unforgiving chill of the winter air, and the dressing gown you snagged from the bedroom door would only keep you so warm if you walked. Frustration flares as you consider another obstacle in your path, resurfacing the tug of war between relapsing or sobriety you’re trying to avoid as an irritatingly logical voice in your head pleads you not to disappoint John, not to disappoint yourself like this. The car it is, then.

Grabbing the damn metal without sending tinkling chimes echoing through the house is agonising, and you wince with every clang of the keys. It takes some patience to guide them out the wired basket they live in without catching them on the aluminium wires, exhaling a relieved sigh when they’re safe in your hand. The keys eat at your palm as you grip them, shimmying your slippers on delicately as you brace yourself to coax the door open, doubts flying through your head as you get deeper in.

The more you consider it, driving seems too risky. Maybe if you roll the car in neutral, you can push it down the street, far away enough that the engine coming to life won’t rouse John from his sleep – but you can’t drive back fucked up, especially not if you overdo it. Pain throbs in your hand as you clutch tighter at the keys, feeling the dents they make in your palm without looking.

Fuck it. It would be way easier to drive home with everything, pull up across the street and push your car back into the driveway. You can’t do it in the car – god, John would be so upset if the sniffer dogs ever alerted to his car – but there is that public bathroom down the street. At this point, even your own damn backyard could work. That’s a problem for when you have the drugs in your hands.

Convincing yourself there’s nothing to fret over with the illusion of a solution, you push yourself off the wall, reaching out for the doorknob. You know it clicks when you open it, but maybe if you’re slow enough, then –

“Hey, baby.”

The keys jingle almost comedically as your grip loosens, freezing in place as your blood runs cold. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, fumbling as you try to work out the right response. “John…”

It takes a moment for your body to cooperate and turn on the spot. John’s eyes are puffy with sleep, one palm pressed into his socket as he squints at you with the other, running his hand up and down through the hair of his chest. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

There’s no accusation in his voice, despite that you know he’s smart enough to have worked it out. Your hand falls back to your side, clutching at the soft fabric of your gown.

“S’just…”

He shuffles over drowsily, yawning against the back of his hand as he stops just out of reach, leaving enough distance to keep you from feeling cornered. You can’t keep contact with his gaze, trailing down his bare chest, the waistline of his boxers, to his bare feet where it stays. John takes note of the hesitant silence, the way your body trembles in the shadows of the moonlight, and gently asks another question.

“What did you want to go out for, baby?”

He’s so sweet. Giving you the benefit of the doubt, a chance to explain without pushing assumptions and imagining the worst. It leaves a bitterness in your mouth, self-pity clawing at your chest as you crash with the disappointment of the moment, so torn between being grateful and being fucking pissed that you’re caught.

“You know.”

It burns to admit, struggling to swim through the shame and disgust rising in your body. Admitting it explicitly feels too much, but John still understands, humming acceptingly without any displeasure. When your eyes flicker back up to his face, his brows are furrowed in a loving concern, looking over you in that way John does when he’s trying to solve all of your problems in his head.

“Come sit on the sofa with me, love?” He prompts, extending a hand for the keys. You stare into his hand, raising your own arm to hover above his palm reflexively, but your fingers fight to loosen around the metal.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “it’s okay. I’m not going to stop you, this is your choice. At least let me drive you so I know you’re safe.”

The proposal breaks your heart. Sneaking around to do drugs behind John’s back is one thing, but dragging him into it is another – one that’s entirely off limits. Your head is shaking urgently before you can find words, pulling your hand away to stuff the keys back into their basket. “Absolutely not. No, never.”

He drops his arm, bringing it back to his side. “S’alright too, darlin’. Just an offer.”

The space falls quiet as he watches you patiently, leaving time for you to speak up or make a move. When stillness keeps you rooted to the spot, hands tangled forcefully in the plush of the gown, he pipes up again. “Speakin’ of offers, would you come to the sofa with me? We can stay here, but it’s a bit comfier than the floor.”

The lightness in his tone is another gentle reassurance he’s not mad as you nod slowly, tugging at the inside of your lip to hold back the floor of tears. You sink lower into the mess of your emotions with each step, trying to keep composure as you follow him to the sofa. The plush furniture groans as John settles into it, purposely leaving his arm wide for you to curl into him. It takes a moment to curl up against him, feeling undeserving of the unconditional warmth he wraps you in as he tugs you closer.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on, doll.” He whispers, running a hand through your hair.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He hums understandingly, allowing you to continue without interruption.

“S’been bad the last week. Can’t stop thinking about it, everything reminds me of it in the most irrelevant ways. It’s like it never leaves my mind. It makes me fucking miserable.” The air struggles to reach your lungs through your choked up throat, breath hitching as you fight to keep it under control.

“Thought that…” Swallowing around the lump of shame in your throat is painful. “I thought I could just go out for one deal, just one. Could come home before you wake up, shower, and I could be happy again and you wouldn’t be stuck dealing with me like this! Just for a week, a few days, even a fucking day. Just some fucking reprieve from this bullshit.”

The words tumble out as the floodgates break, pressing your face against John’s bare chest. Soothing hushes fall from his lips, rubbing his hand up and down your back as you crumble into him.

“It’s okay, my love.” His breath is warm against your scalp with every word. “I know it’s been tough for you lately, baby, I see you workin’ so hard.”

The assurance has you sobbing harder, shoulders shaking as you gulp down oxygen between wails, and he does nothing but hold you closer. “You’re doing such a good job staying sober. Must’ve been so hard to fight those urges all week. Sounds like there was a lot triggering you, huh?”

All you can do is nod weepily, bringing a sleeve up to wipe at your runny nose. Words feel far from your grasp as the emotional intensity of your week fully hits you, but John doesn’t stop with the hushed reassurances. “M’not mad, you haven’t disappointed me, love. So proud of you for still tryin’. Even if y’did go, you wouldn’t disappoint me. These things happen.”

Your chest aches as tears stain your face, slick against his damp skin that catches each drop. John doesn’t care about the snot or tears tangling his hair, letting you sob into his chest like a tissue. “You’ve been strong for the last few months, it’s okay if you fall this time. S’okay even if you fall tomorrow, and the day after that.”

Each breath is still ragged, shaking your figure with a fierceness that won’t let you keep your fingers together. John steps in, sliding his fingers between yours, rubbing circles over the back of your hand. “I know, sweet thing. Can you try’n breathe with me? Know y’can do it, take a breath with me, jus’ like that.”

He takes a deep, purposeful inhale that moves you with him, exhaling it slowly and repeating until your breath falls in peaceful synchronisation. For however long passes by, it’s just you and John rocking through the last of your distress, the warmth of his body and touch of his skin keeping you from floating too far back into the guilt and temptation ringing through your mind.

“Remember what your therapist said?” John speaks up, soft voice echoing through the quiet, dark living room. “Urges and relapsing are a part of your sobriety.”

“Being sober isn’t a destination, it’s a journey,” you mumble into him, closing your eyes as the mantra washes over you.

The room falls silent for long enough that you almost dose off, lost between the comforting touches of John and the weariness that begins to replace your fading adrenaline.

“With me, sunshine?” John prompts, running his nails along your scalp soothingly as he catches the dwindling of your consciousness. Despite the hoarse, watery “yes” you mumble into his chest hairs, you can still hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “What can I do for you, hm? Anythin’?”

You reject him with a refusing hum, shaking your head. “Nothin’, just stay here.”

“Couldn’t think of anythin’ I want to do more. I’ll carry you back if you fall asleep.”

The thought of putting John through any more trouble tonight has you frowning, pushing yourself away from him despite his reluctance to loosen his grip, giving you a curious look.

“Save you the trouble, let’s go now.”

His eyes crinkle with the turn of his lips, smiling at you affectionately as you rise. Your hands intertwine as he reaches out, only loosening when he tugs the dressing gown off your shoulders, hanging it over the door as you make your way to the bed. Despite your head start, his long legs move him quicker, pulling the blankets back for you.

You slip in between the sheets, feeling the bed dip as John crawls in his side. His arms are open expectantly before you have to say anything, smoothing the sheet out to create a comfy spot for you that you snuggle into without hesitation.

The muscles hidden under that soft layer of fat in his arms flex and release as he wraps his arms around you, finding a protective purchase on the soft rises of your body. A pang of gratefulness rattles your chest, and you squeeze your eyes shut, breathing in the smell of your lover. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into the gentle lull John coaxed you into before, and once he’s sure you’re soundly asleep, he sinks into unconsciousness with you.

dividers by cafekitsune

#look. i think john would get it #as someone who 1) smokes cigars and may have a tobacco dependence 2) would see substance abuse as coping in his own soldiers #i think he would be a great partner/support system for maintaining sobriety #price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #jams writings #rep!reader writings #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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tolovetoloseyourmind · 1 month

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i made myself a cake for getting myself support when i relapsed and 10/10 experience normalize rewarding yourself for trying to get better instead of beating yourself up

#sobriety #support #self help #self improvement #self care #a journey to love #journey

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thedomesticanthropologist · 4 months

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congrats on finishing the third day! keep going, you're doing great :)

Thank u anon I am trying very hard

#you guys are so supportive #sobriety

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loveandthings11 · 8 months

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How Deep My Love Goes, Chapter 11

Read on AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

Fic Summary: A Kenrava-focused fix-it alongside canon 💗

Nobody Stays Missing

Two minutes after Kendall has taken his first steps out the door and toward Logan to deliver the letter, Rava sits down and turns her attention to her case for as long as she can before everything blows up. She taps her pen against her laptop keyboard and glances back and forth from her scribbled notes to her typed ones, trying in vain to find the missing piece of her case- written evidence from the company of the years of stolen wages. She looks over her client Tony Trume’s latest distressed email, concerned about his coworker friend and wondering if he’s in danger himself.

She drops her face into her hands for a moment, wishing she knew an expert in international corporate law. She briefly thinks of Gerri and hesitates. The questions alone would sound like an accusation of having been on the wrong side of cases like this before, and Kendall is about to be at war with Waystar. Rava looks at her phone and thinks maybe she could just ask a quick hypothetical, one lawyer to another. Gerri doesn’t know what’s happening with Kendall yet, she’d still pick up the phone- for the next five minutes. She takes a breath and presses her name. Gerri answers on the first ring.

“Gerri Kellman.”

“Gerri, hi. It’s Rava.” She can practically hear Gerri’s eyebrows go up.

“Rava? Um, hi, how are you? Enjoying the festivities?”

“Oh, yeah. You know, the Roy joys.” She sounds forced and she knows it.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well,” Rava continues, “I actually have a hypothetical for you- having nothing to do with Waystar, just a case thing. Can I run something by you? I’m no expert in corporate law.”

“Oh. Sure, go ahead,” Gerri answers with slight confusion. Rava wonders how much time she has before Kendall gets to Logan’s room with the letter. While Rava details the situation, Gerri stays quiet.

“So, that’s it,” Rava finishes. “Stolen wages for years, a whistleblower who went missing, and a new whistleblower who is terrified that the same thing is going to happen to him. If a situation like that were to occur, what would be the best way to proceed, do you think? I’m, uh… a little lost, but you know this stuff.” Rava smiles into that last part, an effort to curry favor with a woman she knows gets too little credit. Gerri takes a moment.

“Honestly? If I were the attorney on this, well, I wouldn’t be. This kind of thing tends to be bad for everyone except the company you’re after. Look out for yourself here. Nobody will be kind to your reputation if you lose this, and I’m sorry to say it, but you will probably lose this.”

Rava feels a bit of the chill she’d feared. Gerri probably ate cases like this for lunch twenty years ago. She blinks and considers for a moment. She knows she probably only has seconds left before Gerri finds out what Kendall’s done. She can almost hear his footsteps.

“Are you saying that because you’re general counsel for an international company, or because you believe it?”

Gerri sighs and Rava hears a phone vibration on the other end.

“Both.” She pauses. “Fuck. Look, I’m sorry, I think you know what I have to go deal with-“

“Right, yeah. I appreciate you hearing me out.”

“Sure. Bye, Rava.”

The end of the call sounds final. They’re on opposite sides now. Regret starts to creep up as Rava wonders if hearing that was worth the risk of letting someone else in on her case. She looks at her phone and decides to calm down by taking a look at the photos of the wedding party from just an hour before. She’d asked the photographer to take a couple of shots on her phone of just her and Kendall. She’d run up just in the nick of time and slipped in next to him. He’d smiled and whispered, “Thank God, Shiv just asked if I was hallucinating you coming here.” The camera had caught him whispering in her ear and her laughing. She hopes this bear hug works so Logan can officially be out of the way and she can see Kendall’s smile all the time. It warms her chest even to think about how happy he’ll be when he’s finally in charge.

……………..

“That was really hard.” Kendall stares into the void as the image of Logan’s eyes floats in his head. Filled with anger, shock, disapproval… pride? That’s probably too hopeful. Stewy pats his knee.

“I know. You did it, man. Hey.” Kendall glances up at him. “You fuckin’ did it.” He nods. He can’t remember how to smile right now.

“I fucked my sister’s wedding.”

Stewy rolls his eyes but keeps his tone gentle.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t fuck the next one. Now you’ve learned who to trust. Me. Not Frank. Maybe not Ro-Ro, as much as it hurts.” Kendall looks down.

“You literally told me not to trust you,” he mutters. Stewy chooses not to hear that and Kendall continues. “But, yeah, it’s not our fault Roman didn’t answer the phone. I had to act or the whole thing would’ve fallen apart. I know he wasn’t expecting it to happen today, obviously- uh, well, none of us were.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Ken, by the way.” Kendall ignores him.

“And we don’t even know if he ignored the call on purpose,” Kendall continues. “Maybe he did hear about the press leak and he thought he could change teams at the last minute. Just detach himself and run right back to Dad?” Kendall presses his lips together in stress and slumps forward while he worries.

“You didn’t ask your Dad if Roman had come to him?” Stewy inquires before realizing Kendall could probably barely make himself say the part he planned. “Okay- no, I get it, that was enough for you.” He switches to an easy vibe to keep them both calm. “Honestly, Roman was probably too busy getting fucked up to answer, he’s sick of this shit. Probably the most he’s worked in his entire life,” he laughs. Kendall feels queasy not knowing the answer and Stewy wants to pull them both out of the worrying. “But who cares? Time to celebrate. Drinks!” He gets up and pours himself a generous glass of scotch from the crystal bottle on the nearby mahogany table, opening his jacket and taking out a little plastic bag like they both always used to carry. Kendall visibly shrinks back and shakes his head.

“Come on, man, again?” Kendall tries, wondering how it’s possible that he still doesn’t get it. Stewy rolls his eyes.

“If you don’t want any, just turn that way.” He gestures toward the wall and pours a bit of coke onto the table. Kendall inhales sharply and gets up and walks toward the door.

“I can’t be in here if you’re gonna do that.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Stewy says as he cuts up a line and snorts it.

That’s it.

“It IS a fucking big deal,” Kendall spits out, prompting Stewy’s slow head turn toward him, standing right at the door facing away. He’s been putting up with this for years and now is not a relaxing moment. Now is the time when it’s hardest to say no and Stewy should have known that. He focuses on the carved wood on the door, counting the almost invisible marks in the grain.

“Dude. Relax, I’ll put it away,” Stewy says. Kendall closes his eyes and doesn’t want to turn around. He hates feeling like people think he’s a buzzkill, but he just can’t take it. Stewy looks over at him and puts the bag back in his jacket. “Ken. It��s fine, you can turn around.” He reluctantly does. “It’s all good, man. We’re doing this.” There’s a pause. “Hey. Like we always planned, yeah?” Kendall nods.

“Yeah.” He looks at the wall and the floor. “I gotta go, the fam’s waiting.” He reaches for the doorknob.

“Ken.” Stewy tilts his head and tries to look at him. Kendall wishes anyone he knew knew how to apologize.

“It’s fine. I’m good.”

Stewy looks at him, feeling discontented with a hint of regret.

“Really? Is this actually about this, or about the vote? Are we good?”

Kendall shrugs.

“Sure.” He opens the door and shuts it behind him. He turns and almost runs into Iverson on the gravelly path, trailed by Rava and Sophie a little ways back.

“Hey!” Rava calls as Iverson walks over to him first. “We were just looking for you.” Kendall leans down to give Iverson a hug.

“That picture you drew is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he says seriously. “I mean that.” His son smiles and Kendall looks up at Rava and Sophie as they get closer.

“Hey,” he says. He knows he sounds spent and he feels like it. Rava’s eyes widen.

“You okay? How was talking to your dad?” She looks apprehensive but hopeful. Kendall sighs.

“I mean… it’s done, so, yeah.” He stands up and they all start walking back toward their room.

“And…?”

“I don’t know. That was just-“ he sighs again. Everything always has to pile on at once. His dad will never forgive him. He’s in a fight with Stewy. He can’t believe he’s going to have to face the entire family hating him at Shiv’s wedding, to face Roman thinking he cut him out on purpose and possibly turning against him. “Is it- can I just not talk about it right now?”

“Sure,” Rava says with concern as he gazes at the road in front of them. “It’s good we’re going back to the room before the festivities start.” The festivities. He can’t imagine wanting to go to a wedding reception later. He nods. The room sounds good. He hopes it’s quiet.

The kids want to continue their walk, so Bianca takes them out. Kendall and Rava enter back into their suite, all heavy wood and velvet upholstery in jewel tones of deep green and blue. Kendall pulls off his shoes as Rava steps down from her heels. He gazes at the grand canopy bed and wants to lie down more than anything. He fiddles with his jacket and Rava gives him a warm look.

“Are you worrying about wrinkling your suit?” He glances down with a small smile. She knows him so well. “Maybe if you just lie really still,” she suggests jokingly. He gives in and hangs up his jacket, walking back and lying down on his back staring up at the ceiling for a minute. She sits down next to him and looks over. She can’t take the suspense anymore. She has to know something. She starts with an easy question.

“So, um- did he yell? When you gave him the letter?”

Kendall exhales.

“Yeah.”

She puts her hand on his arm, a gentle reminder that she knows how hard that is for him. He turns his head away and tries to mentally float away from the memory.

“And… I mean, what did he say?”

“He wouldn’t even read it.” She winces a little. “I told him.” He closes his eyes and she smiles a bit sadly.

“Well… you did it.”

“Uh huh.” She rubs his arm.

“It’ll be okay,” she assures him. He keeps his eyes closed.

“Yeah? Do you have any proof?”

She chuckles a little.

“Only proof that it’s always ended up okay.” He opens his eyes slowly. She’s not wrong. She wonders if she should tell him about the talk she’d had with Gerri, but thinks now is not the time. It’s not the right day to mention anyone at Waystar. She decides on someone safer. “Hey, does Stewy want to join us and head over to cocktail hour later?” She figures he’s on the team now and his presence might be a positive distraction from the Logan mess. Kendall squirms a little at the thought of explaining and hopes he can just keep his distance from Stewy for the rest of the day.

“Uh, no. No, he’s- let’s just go with the kids.”

“Okay.” She looks at him expectantly. “Everything okay there? He’s still on board and everything?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s in.” He’s quiet for a second.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” She asks.

“Nothing, just-“ He briefly wishes he had the ability to hide small things like this from her and resigns himself to the fact that she’s too perceptive for that. Sometimes it’s a relief that she can read him like a book, but not at the moment. “He just- lives in the past sometimes. You know?” She gives him a confused look.

“No, what does that-“ She closes her eyes for a second as it hits her. “Jesus Christ. In the room with you? He’s doing drugs right in front of you?” She massages her temples. “I really might kill him, Ken.”

“No, it’s- you know, it’s fine. I mean, he stopped when I asked- when I told him to.”

She shakes her head and looks down at him.

“You shouldn’t have to tell him to,” she says. How anyone could want to make recovery harder for him than it already is is beyond her. Kendall looks at her and implores her with his eyes.

“Don’t say anything. Just- let it be. He’s not gonna change. I can’t have any more enemies right now.”

“Right. So it’s fine that for the next year you’re going to be having meetings at powder-covered conference tables? I don’t think so.” They hear the door open from the living room of the suite and Bianca’s keys jingle. “It’s not just about what you’re okay with,” she says, glancing in the direction of the door where the kids are. They share a meaningful look and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. I’ll deal with it.”

She nods, but she’s simmering beneath her placid surface. She considers the dynamic between Kendall and Stewy. Kendall gave Stewy another chance after he abstained from the vote. Stewy didn’t seem concerned that abstaining might end their friendship. He gave Kendall the money, but that just gave him more power over him. As far she Rava can tell, Stewy has the upper hand and Kendall isn’t going to say anything that could jeopardize their coalition. But this is just too important. There is no coalition if everyone in it is high out of their minds. She won’t lose him to a company or an overgrown fraternity.

“You know, I think I left my scarf at the ceremony, I’ll be right back.” She pats his shoulder and gets up, heading back down the path to the room she found him walking out of. She swings open the door and is suddenly alone with Stewy, who is disconcerted as he looks up from the slightly powdery table where his laptop is.

“What on earth were you thinking?” She hisses. Stewy drops his head back and sighs. “Remember Sophie and Iverson, his children? I would think as his supposed best friend you would care whether he can see them?”

“He tattled on me? Jesus… come on, you’re not taking the kids,” he says sarcastically. The cavalier attitude makes her want to scream. She closes her eyes in frustration and memories she hates start to come up. She doesn’t know how to get through to him except to bring him back.

“I- I mean, you were there. Covered his face from the photographers? Sat with me in the fucking ambulance? Promised me this would never happen again? ‘Never again.’ That’s what you said from the doorway of the hospital room you were too scared to come into. Remember any of that? Or have you obliterated all those brain cells?” She scoffs.

Stewy tries to keep his usual cool , but she can tell she’s getting to him. It had been the only time she’d ever heard him say ‘I’m sorry.’ He’s rarely at a loss for words and he doesn’t like being guilt-tripped. She doesn’t need to play dirty and he resents her acting like it’s his fault Kendall has a problem. The defensiveness combines with the coke and spills out for a moment.

“Stop, it is not a big deal.” Rava’s eyes widen and he hears himself and backtracks a little. “Yeah, I know. I remember.” He can’t bring himself to get deep right now and just wants her to go so he can get the evening started. “I’ve already gotten my scolding for the day. I got it. Okay? No more. I seriously did not think he’d care.” He starts walking out but can’t quite stop himself from turning back around to face her. “You know, it’s not my fault he can’t handle his shit like I can.”

“Can you?” She asks pointedly. She gestures to the table, clearly not yet cleaned. “I mean, can you not?”

He rolls his eyes but it takes a second.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he says.

“Well, sometimes I do.”

“You worry about me. Because you care?” He asks airily, sarcasm almost masking curiosity.

She takes a second. He doesn’t have many people looking out for him.

“Yes, Stewy. Because I have the burden of worrying and caring about other people.”

“Oh, right. That must be terrible,” he deadpans. The corners of her mouth turn up nearly imperceptibly.

“Sometimes.” They look at each other. “You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I have experience in being supportive,” she offers carefully.

“You should save that for the guy who needs it,” he says, not unkindly, but not without defensiveness.

“Okay. Whatever you say.” She takes a step toward the door and looks over her shoulder at him. “Never again.”

Stewy nods and mets her gaze for a second.

“Yeah. Never again.”

Rava strides back into the suite and finds Kendall standing just inside the bedroom waiting for her. She stops short as she sees her pashmina draped over his arm.

“Found your scarf.” He raises his eyebrows and looks at her coolly. “I told you I would deal with him,” he says iin disbelief.

“Well, to be honest-“

“You didn’t think I would so you went behind my back.”

“Ken-“

He shakes his head.

“That’s great, Rava. You know, if you want to treat someone like a kid, we have two of them.” She rolls her eyes.

“Right. Because that’s what this is.”

“No, what this actually sounds like to me is you having no faith that I can do what I promise. You said that phase was over. ‘New phase.’ But it’s not. You don’t even think I can stand up for myself with someone I’ve known forever? So- so what else do you not think I can do?”

She hears the freakout and sighs, keeping her voice even.

“Okay. I’m not doing this. You’re talking to yourself, you know that? It’s you who’s worried you’re not up to the job, or staying clean, or whatever you’re referring to, not me. And if you want to talk about that, I am here. But Stewy and I are fine.” He’s getting more wound up by the second, feeling the tension of the day coming back after his brief attempt at relaxation.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Well, fine. I’m sorry for caring so much about keeping you safe that I’ll go talk to someone who is putting you in danger.”

He scoffs. “Stewy? Okay. I don’t need you to keep me safe, I can take care of myself.”

A silence louder than their voices fills the room.

“Got it. New phase.” She raises her eyebrows and walks toward the door. He sighs and follows after her. Distance is not the phase he meant.

“Well, I didn’t- I- no,” he starts. She feels self-conscious and crosses her arms. “I love that you care.” He comes closer and hesitantly places his hand on her arm. “I love this,” he gestures between them. “I just- just let me deal with my own stuff.” She nods without looking at him. She reprimands herself for wanting to be needed so badly. There’s some relationship book she’d read making her out to be a bad partner for that- for viewing him as someone to fix or save. They haven’t seen his eyes, she’d thought, but she knew they had a point.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” she says blandly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own.” She meant it to sound genuine, but it just makes him sigh. He didn’t mean actually alone. She brushes her hand down his arm and steps away a little bit. “You go ahead to the reception. I’ll catch up later with the kids.” She can feel that he’s upset but she can’t look.

“You’re- you’re skipping cocktail hour? Rava.”

But she’s walking back into the room already. She knows she shouldn’t do this, but her skin is crawling at the whole situation and she wants to be alone. But it’s the last thing he wants. He can’t believe that she won’t admit she’s wrong and he doesn’t even know who he can talk to at this stupid cocktail hour where there are no cocktails for him. He wishes he could summon that little plastic bag and anything else that might numb him. He feels guilty as he wonders if he’ll ever stop missing Macallan 30.

Reluctantly, he drags himself into the section of the stone manor that houses this part of the event and puts his hands in his pockets as he passes under the huge wooden archway of the door. He thought he was done making awkward event entrances by himself. He’s almost afraid to look around because he might accidentally make eye contact with someone who wants to kill him, but he quickly glances up to see if Roman’s around- and sees Caroline heading his way. Oh, good. Her smile is gleeful.

“Kendall.” She kisses his cheek.

“Hi, Mom.” He prepares himself for whatever barbs are coming at him.

“I heard you ruined your father’s day before he even got into his suit,” she titters. “I’m so proud.” He tries not to take the much-needed comment seriously.

“Yeah. Thanks.” The last time they’d talked alone, four months ago, was when Kendall had called to try to connect with her on a lonely Saturday. He was looking forward to the CEO announcement and wanted to share it with someone. Caroline had sounded highly doubtful that Logan would keep his word and it had made him bite his nails and lose sleep for a night. She’d assured him it would be better for him to get out and he’d attempted to explain why that was literally unthinkable. He’d tried to throw in a bit about missing Rava and his eventual plan to win her back, and she’d told him how smart she’d always thought Rava was to stay out of the Roy fray. Kendall had felt stung and wondered why he always kept trying with his mom. He looks cautiously at her as she continues.

“Where’s Rava? Haven’t you gotten her enough staff for her to come join the fun?”

“Yes, Mom. She’ll be here. I guess.”

She looks pleasantly amused and takes a sip of her champagne. Kendall looks at the glass enviously.

“So, how long do you give it?” His eyes flash up at her. Even he has a limit.

“How long do I give us?” He asks incredulously. “Really?”

“No!” Caroline laughs again, light and tinged with the discomfort of a life of never being taken seriously. “Your sister and Tom.” He takes a breath.

“Oh.” Nice not to be the target. “Uh, I don’t know, until she convinces Dad to make Tom head of whatever the fuck and she finds out that’s all he wanted?”

“Are you going to promote Tom if you win this little game you’re playing with Logan?”

“It’s not a game.” She looks slightly suspicious and Kendall feels more annoyed than ever at the fact that Logan thinks they’re just playing chess. “And as for Tom, as much as I love social climbers…” he trails off as he sees Rava coming through the room’s grand entryway in her blue silk dress. She starts a conversation with the people next to her and doesn’t look around for him. Caroline follows his gaze.

“So what did you do?” She asks. “The au pair?” He shuts his eyes and sighs.

“Jesus. Obviously not.”

“So now poor Rava’s stuck with the kids and doesn’t come to cocktail hour on time?” He looks miserable. “Always the serious one,” she almost laughs and he wishes she would be serious for one second. She pats his hand. “But the handsome one, too. I’m sure you could do better than that nanny. Lord knows your father always did.” Kendall remembers feeling sorry for her once it occurred to him around age fourteen that Logan kept mistresses at the other residences where he occasionally stayed.

“Okay, Mom. That’s not- no. I’m not Dad.”

“No, no, of course not. Only joking.” She tilts her head down and raises her eyebrows. “You could laugh. Not all of us want to be so sullen.” Kendall gives her a dry look and Caroline takes another sip as she looks over at Rava. “Only been a few months since her miraculous return, and she’s all the way over there.” He feels a little lost in resentment. “Careful. The drifting happens before you know what’s hit you.”

Kendall looks at his mom and wishes he could really talk to her, ask her advice and have her give him a hug. He briefly considers the fact that she is referencing a time when she missed Logan and he tries to conjure a memory of his parents laughing or flirting or kissing. A strange sense of pity for both of them settles onto him and he wonders if Caroline ever held Logan the way Rava holds him every night. If Logan would even let her. Stewy’s advice to distance himself from the Enemy echoes in his head as he struggles not to empathize with them. He’d watched as they’d started to sleep in separate rooms, then separate houses as he got into his late teens. The idea of being distant from Rava that way makes him feel sick.

“Well, we’re not drifting. We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course. So, you give Shiv what- a year?”

“Sure,” he replies. Caroline smiles.

“Come outside with your dear old mum?” She asks, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her clutch. He glances at them.

“Really trying to quit,” he answers. “For the kids.”

“Oh, you’re no fun anymore,” his mom teases.

“Yeah, that’s what I hear,” he sighs.

“Just one. Or stay here and wait for the feral dogs to come after you,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. "I hear they're all out looking."

He sighs again and turns and follows Caroline outside. He lights her cigarette and stands in the windy air. It’s cold and he buttons up his coat to stop it from prickling his skin through his suit. She hands the cigarette to him and he takes a drag, taking a moment to feel the calm before handing it back and deciding that’s it for the night. He and Rava don’t need another thing to fight about. It’s been weeks and he’s been doing so well. He stares out at the landscape he has so many memories of running in. The feeling of freedom was nice, even if it wasn’t real.

"So, you, uh, just got inspired to get me out of there right on time?" He asks.

"Well, I'm a philanthropist now," she says with a delectable sarcasm.

"Oh yeah?"

"According to Tatler. I wouldn't dare argue with that kind of expertise." He almost chuckles. Did she do something just to be nice?

"Uh-huh."

“You know, your father nearly smacked a waiter tonight, couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.” She says it like she wishes she were surprised. Kendall shakes his head.

“Well, is the kid okay?”

“Oh, he’s all paid off and drove off, that’s the way. No consequences for Logan.”

“Yeah.” Kendall pauses. “Maybe. Maybe there are consequences for him.”

Kendall walks Caroline back into the party and starts carefully wandering into the minefield of a cocktail hour, scanning for Rava. They have to fix this. He hated going to weddings during the separation, even when he was only there for the networking. He used to sit at the table and stare at cake he couldn’t eat during slow songs. Sometimes if the song hit home too hard he’d find an excuse to leave the room. He and Rava always fed each other wedding cake at receptions they attended to recall their own happy day. Loneliness was so much worse when it felt like the memories of his own wedding day were getting rained on. This was the first wedding he’s looked forward to in years- their first as a reunited couple- and he doesn’t want it to be a loss.

He’s shocked to spot her in the corner with Stewy as well as Kendall’s least favorite board member, Paul. Kendall is under no delusions of who the “friend” was who Stewy had told him wanted Rava. He feels a surge of anger at all three of them- how could Stewy let Paul talk to Rava? How could Rava make up with Stewy before him? How could Paul still be hitting on Rava even after they had officially and very publicly gotten back together?? The way he’s looking and smiling at Rava makes Kendall want to scream. Paul must be twenty years older than them, it’s pathetic. He can see Paul’s eyes flitting to places only he can touch and he has to take a breath so he doesn’t force him to back away. He thinks vengefully about how long Paul will last on the board when he’s CEO. He makes a beeline for their group and tries to stay as smooth as he can. Stewy sees him coming and puts his arm around him once he gets there, patting his back and bringing him into the circle.

“Ken. So glad you made it.” Stewy makes eye contact for a moment. “Seriously.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Kendall answers. We’re good. He swiftly turns to Rava.

“Hi,” he says with a smile at her, kissing her cheek and slipping his arm around her waist. She looks pleasantly surprised at the warmth in what she was expecting to be an awkward moment. He looks at Paul as he wraps his fingers around her side, making sure her body is touching his.

“Paul, good to see you,” he says with what Rava has often joked is his “business smile” as he reaches out his hand to shake Paul’s. She recognizes the expression and tries to hide a grin. This is an entirely different kind of awkward moment.

“You too, Kendall. Hope life outside the Waystar family is serving you well.” Kendall stops himself from rolling his eyes at the obvious dig.

“Yeah. I’m good,” Kendall confirms.

“Rava was just telling me that you two are heading to Saint-Tropez this season.”

Kendall’s fury at Paul subsides a little at the mention of the couple’s old inside joke- Rava used to tell other people that she and Kendall were going on vacation before she’d ask him so he would have no choice but to take time off and go with her. He looks at Rava and she gives him an apologetic smile. He chuckles.

“That’s right, I had almost forgotten. But yeah, it’s about time. Pretty over this dreariness. It’s about time to take my wife to the Riviera again.”

“Oh, yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you there. I’m getting a place there this winter too,” Paul replies.

Stewy looks quietly delighted at the passive-aggressive discord and Rava catches his eye for half a second to share in the amusement. The ice between everyone in the circle melts a bit as she leans into Kendall.

“We would love that,” she says. Kendall glances down at her with a hint of a smile. Paul gets the picture and looks at the ice cubes Stewy is lightly swirling.

“Stewy, can’t have an empty glass. To the bar?”

“Thank God, yes. Excuse us.” Stewy nods and smiles at Kendall and Rava before he walks away.

Rava looks up at Kendall and hopes he doesn’t let go. His muscles loosen a little but he keeps his arm around her.

“That whole thing with Stewy-“ she starts. “-I should have told you I wanted to talk to him. I got scared, Ken. I don’t think he respects your sobriety. As your friend, he should, so I told him that. We just… hadn’t checked in in a long time. He and I are okay, though. We just needed a minute.” She gives him a hug that he can tell she needs for comfort. He hugs her back and turns his face into her hair.

“Okay. Yeah- I mean, I don’t know that I really wanted to talk to him about it anyway. I want you guys to be fine though. This is going to be hard if you’re arguing all the time.” They move apart and she shakes her head.

“No, we won’t. We’re fine now- and I hope he’s going to do better. He knows I want good things for him, too.”

“Okay. Good.” He takes a second. “I really hate fighting with you,” he says quietly. He barely shakes his head for a second. “I don’t want us to, like, drift, you know?” He sighs and searches her eyes before glancing down for a moment. The thought of being distant and cold like his parents is so genuinely upsetting that he can feel a lump forming in his throat. “I’m fucking insanely stressed and I know things are all over the place, but- I don’t want to do things ‘on my own.’ I tried that, you know… and I hated it.”

“Hey, no, no drifting. Come here, Superman.” She pulls him back. “I want you right here all the time,” she lays her hand on the back of his head with her chin over his shoulder. It feels so freeing to say the truth after trying to keep her distance for so long. He breathes in her scent and lets some tension go. He wishes they were already in their room so he wouldn’t have to let go so fast. This day has been exhausting and it’s hitting him. He just wants to curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.

“That’s what I want too,” he murmurs. He pauses to collect himself before remembering the conversation they’d just been a part of. “That and for Paul to fall off a cliff,” he grumbles, tightening his arms around her and slipping his hands just a bit lower on her back. Rava smiles and decides to egg him on just a little bit.

“Ohhhh, he’s not that bad.”

Kendall pulls back to look at her.

“No?” He asks with just enough humor to keep it low-key. “You don’t see the way that old geezer looks at you? I can’t wait til I don’t need his vote and can fire him Dad-style, whole board watching.”

“Ken,” She stifles a laugh. “That is insane.”

“He was fucking undressing you with his eyes,” he mutters. Rava smiles and presses her chest into him.

“Well, maybe after the reception I’ll let you undress me with your hands.”

“Are you flirting with me?” He brushes his cheek against hers and works all the charm he has. She pretends to think.

“I think I might be.” He feels the warmth come back into his body.

“So, reception for, like, not that long?” He laughs. She laughs along and he takes her hand as they walk toward the reception hall. “Are the kids-?”

“With Connor,” she answers.

“Oh, good. They’ll come back teaching us about fucking- cryogenics and conspiracy theories about French history,” he jokes. “Actually though, I’ve always thought he should be a dad.”

Rava shrugs and grins.

“Maybe he will be. Willa’s not exactly age-appropriate.” He chuckles.

“Yeah. The kids need cousins.” The thought makes him happy and Rava considers what a good job Connor did with his first kid.

……………..

The passive-aggressive toasts that veer toward simply aggressive make Rava shake her head and roll her eyes at Kendall every minute or so, quietly laughing at the pathetic nature of their insults. She’s keeping it light enough that he can ignore most of the jabs in his direction and he’s grateful only to have to listen halfway. It’s hard to distract him when Logan subtly accuses him of ruining the wedding, but he tries to focus on knowing what he’s doing is right. He looks nervously at Roman and is not comforted by his lack of eye contact, which feels purposeful. Kendall can’t decide if he’s being paranoid or not. Next to him, Rava almost catches Gerri's eye, but Gerri deftly avoids looking back. As Rava sips more champagne, her tongue gets more acidic, making him laugh with her sharp comments about everyone’s caustic remarks. He admires how naturally she can lighten a mood, the way she can smooth over the most difficult situations so effortlessly. He’s always wished he had that kind of ease and hopes it somehow soaks into him. During a brief break between toasts, Kendall gets curious about her family politics.

“Hey, how’s everything with your stepdad these days? I know he was kind of being difficult to you around Thanksgiving-“

“And most of the time? You know, he ‘expects my success!’” she imitates. She gives him a twinkle. “But unsurprisingly, he’s been much nicer since I told him we’re back together.” Kendall tries not to let the glow shine through his eyes. He’s unsuccessful and Rava thinks it’s sweet. She knows how much it means to him to get challenging parental approval. “He does love you,” she smiles.

Kendall shrugs in a comically exaggerated way.

“I should be the favorite somewhere, right?”

She takes his hand under the table and chances a look in Logan’s direction. She catches him calmly looking right at Kendall. The vitriol seems to have left his icy blue eyes, and for a second, she could swear he was just a dad wanting to see his son at a family wedding.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t discount being number one here either. Not just yet,” she says.

Kendall decides he likes the premise too much to argue with it, but his stomach twists at the idea that his dad must feel betrayed and furious. He allows himself a millisecond-long glance at his father, who he can see is turning away. He feels a pang of regret and tries to replace it with fortitude, but he’s hit with a wave of desperate wishes to be closer to him, to hear that he’s proud, to get a hug just given out of affection. He thinks about how hard he’s trying to earn his dad’s respect and wonders if he can ever win his love. He remembers Logan smiling at him when he was a little kid and feeling like the world was his every time. What had he done wrong to lose that? He runs through every corporate action he had taken since his dad had bestowed the future title on him a year and a half ago. The late-night strategy sessions they’d had about his ascendence to the throne were some of the only bright spots of the last few years. “When it’s you,” Logan had always started, “I want you to focus in on…” Kendall had always had to try with all his might to hear anything after ‘when it’s you’ in his father’s gruff, strong, self-assured voice. He could have sworn he felt the hot shots of adrenaline and dopamine shooting through his entire body. The few times he’d received praise for doing something right, he had floated home on air. Anxiety floods him at the thought that he might never get another night like those. He’s dying for reassurance.

“I think we should go to your parents’ house when we get back,” he says suddenly. Rava smiles uncertainly.

“Okay.” She squeezes his hand. “You in need of some cookies and compliments?”

He had truly missed his in-laws during their time apart. Rava’s mom and step-dad had always been so kind to him in ways his own parents never were. Rava’s mom Cheryl freely hugged him all the time and always asked the cook to bring him seconds. Their beautiful house always smelled like some delicious baked good, and even into his thirties she would still pat him on the shoulder and tell him he was doing a great job and deserved a break. Rava’s step-dad Robert poured him scotch and talked business in a much more upbeat and excited way than Logan did, once in a while even offering a high-five after hearing about a successful board vote or an acquisition when Kendall managed to save existing jobs while still turning a profit. It was so rare that Kendall got the chance to talk about work with someone who had no financial stake in what happened and just genuinely wanted him to succeed. As a powerful M&A lawyer, Robert had high expectations of Rava and could be hard on her, and Kendall tried to slip in bits about her success too. They went golfing every few months after Robert retired, and Kendall knew it as worth enduring Logan’s disapproval of him having any other family members. One of the most painful casualties of the separation for Kendall was his never-ending worry that his surrogate parents for seventeen years now thought he was a junkie and hated him. But Rava had reminded him throughout their time apart that she would never talk about him that way and that they were also sad about the split.

“Cookies and compliments,” he breaks into a little smile and looks at the table. “Do you know how good that sounds right now?” He almost laughs at himself for how much he needs to be around people who honestly like him in this moment.

“Then we’ll go. For now, how about some cake, and your hair looks nice,” she says with a grin. He reaches up to check his hair in case it was messy and that was a joke. She laughs lightly. “Really? I meant that! It is definitely time to go to my parents’. You need a break.”

“Stewy will love that.”

“He’ll love having you getting things done at full capacity. And Roman- where is Roman?”

“Uh, we don’t know,” he replies uneasily.

“You don’t know?” She repeats.

“He gave his speech, he went somewhere with Tabitha maybe, I don’t see her either now, but… you know- weird timing.”

“Well, yeah,” she agrees. Just as she finishes the word, the DJ returns and turns on the fun music everyone’s been waiting for. Kendall and Rava breathe a sigh of relief at being free from the dangerous speeches and walk out onto the dance floor. Kendall stops for a minute to look around and make sure it’s safe out there. Logan is walking out with Frank and Gerri, Shiv is with Tom at the head table, and Roman has indeed disappeared. He finds that particularly worrisome but decides to push it out of his mind and enjoy the moment. Rava goes ahead to the kids and the three of them start dancing while Kendall hangs back. Classic multicolored uplighting flits across their faces and he takes a moment to absorb the purely happy scene. Rava catches his eye and smiles as she does silly dance moves with the kids. He feels the same flip in his chest as he would when she’d spot him at a party when they were just starting to date. She could always tell that the party king image was an inch deep and that he probably needed encouragement to approach her. Sophie runs over and throws herself into him for one of her sweet enthusiastic hugs that make everything brighter. Rava follows with Iverson and reaches for Kendall’s hand.

“You wanna dance?” She’s bouncing already and he takes her hand and follows her out with a cheerful air. She makes them all into a circle and they swing around, jumping up and down. The kids look positively delighted, and seeing their joyful expressions looking up at him makes him promise himself he’ll do anything it takes to keep them like that forever. He watches Rava giggle and twirls her. She spins close to him and gives him a quick kiss.

“Mom!!” Sophie yells. Rava chuckles and pats her head as she looks back at Kendall and watches him bounce and dance.

“I remember you,” she smiles at him. “You’re fun!” He laughs.

“You’re definitely the only one who’s of that opinion tonight.” But he only needs one. The song slows down and Rava glances at Kendall’s watch.

“Kids, it is way past your bedtime!” She motions to Bianca to come take them to bed. “Bianca is going to help you get ready for bed and then we’ll come kiss you goodnight, okay?” The kids reluctantly agree and Kendall kisses the top of their heads before Bianca leads them out.

“Slow song…” Rava looks at him invitingly. They sway to the music and she looks up at him, placing both her hands on his face and pulling him to her lips. She can’t wait another second to feel his lips, to close her eyes and lean into him. He lets himself relax the way he only ever can with her. After a minute he returns to proper form, but she steps in to close the gap between them, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t remember this part of Cotillion,” he smiles.

“Hmm, well, New York didn’t do it like Connecticut, then,” she smirks.

“Oh, am I married to a bad girl?” He whispers.

“You have no idea.”

“No? You have tricks I haven’t seen?”

She raises her eyebrows and pulls him to her again for a deeper kiss. They’ve both forgotten everyone’s eyes around them.

“Mmmm… that’s good champagne,” he whispers. She laughs silently and puts her forehead on his.

“Stopppp!”

“Yeah, I’m generally not very good at that,” he jokes. He kisses her again, open-mouthed, and she can feel the passion. He’s tasting her. “So good,” he breathes. “Let’s go. Back to the room.”

She giggles and he starts walking with his arm around her. Just at that moment, they clock Roman and Tabitha walking through the door. Rava looks disappointed at the thought of yet another interruption in their day and Kendall notices.

“Hang on just a second,” he says quickly, and she reluctantly lets him go and makes peace with another night of falling asleep by herself. To her surprise, he walks over to Stewy and then straight back to her. “Okay, let’s go.”

“You don’t have to talk to Roman?” Rava asks.

“I told Stewy I think I’ve had enough confrontation for one day. I talked to my dad, I think he can handle my brother.” He smiles at her. “You know what he said, though, and I hadn’t even processed it yet?”

“What?”

“We did it. We’re taking over the fucking company.”

Chapter 12 💗

#1x10 the wedding has been fixed (basically)#chapter spoilers in tags #I started the Alongside Canon Fix-It concept for this fic early on once I realized how this night would have been completely different #if Kendall and Rava had been together for most of S1 #always found it so weird and interesting how jesse said he didn't care much to explore Kendall's addiction because #it literally causes this incredibly central event #and you know #what if he had more support and it didn't???#we see how stable he was and how feeling a sudden lack of support from everyone contributed to the relapse #not that the relationship alone could fix everything #but everything I research emphasizes how important support is to people in recovery #there's a much higher chance of staying sober with a support system #ken basically had no sobriety support canonically but it's so much better when he does! things will be so different 👀#this chapter is special to me because it starts the first plot points that will run parallel to canon in S2!#kendall roy #kenrava #rava roy #kendall x rava #kendall roy fic #succession fic

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my-self-reflections · 4 months

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#be a good friend #support your friend #sobriety

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wipeawaythosetearsofbloodagain · 3 months

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OMG thats almost 2 months!! Youre doing so great! Congrats on the sobriety!

Thank you very very much for your kind words <3

#i didn’t think anyone would care about my sobriety but it means so much to have the support from my boyfriend and my tumblr mutuals :)#you guys are like my only friends hahaha I’m grateful for your support #thank you for your ask :)

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boozemusingsandboom · 10 months

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Guide to your First Month Sober: Why and How to Quit Drinking

I was living in a coma, a series of grey days that seemed to bleed into one another like a charcoal sketch left in the rain. I knew my drinking was a problem, but I had no idea that every single one of my problems were caused by alcohol...

Demystifying the First Month Sober for the Sober Curious I’m nothing short of stunned by the dramatic changes that have occurred in my life over the course of the past 5 weeks since I decided to commit to 3 months of sobriety. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to describe my first month sober to someone else in the early stages of sobriety — someone perhaps, who can’t quite bring themselves to…

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#Addiction #alcohol-free-living #alcohol-use-disorder #Alternatives-to-AA #AUD #Community-Support-to-Stop-Drinking #Dry-January #Health #healthy-lifestyle #Living Sober #personal-growth #Resources #Sober Curious #Sober Perspective #Sobriety

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germ-t-ripper · 22 days

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20MAR24 Hard to call it work when I get to spend time with one of my favorite people.

#peer support #stress management #sober #sobriety #recovery #odaat #gay bear #handsome bear #muscle bear #daddy bear

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joyridingmp3 · 1 year

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sister getting operated on. as I type this

#if they give her too much anaesthetic again I'm going to LOSE IT ON THEM #my mum hugged me yesterday too which. is hard not to have playing on my mind. felt gross and weird #client [redacted redacted] and another client also [redacted]#and another support coordinator also did some really vengeful vindictive things in relation to a client #and it's just. been suuuuch a week honestly #I'm trying to stay sober so I can like. Feel emotions for the mcr show #but fuuuck I hate sobriety this is so shit!!!#mine #2023

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kimbleeofficial · 1 year

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oh hey btw im more than 3 months sober (since the beginning of the year)

#ms #alcoholism cw #alcohol mention cw #i was going back through my old asks looking for something #and i rediscovered some from anons confiding in me abt drinking #saying they felt supported by someone else sharing the struggle #so if any of y’all are still around #and also just for the new peeps #im giving sobriety another go! it’s been rough but 3 months is a long time for me :-)#it gets easier over time #if you want any advice on what i did #or support #feel free to talk to me

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

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Omg Brit congratulations on 6 months sober!!! It’s such an accomplishment, and an overall attest to your personal strength and ability to persevere. So proud of you! 🎉🥳

Thank you so fucking much, doll. I truly appreciate your kind words and all of your support. I'm very proud of myself and beyond thankful for all of the support I receive on here as well.

#britt responds #sobriety journey #6 months sober #moots love and support #moots love #feeling grateful for friends #feeling the love

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alexandraswords · 10 months

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Getting to Step One.

"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol."

That was the last thing I wanted to do, Admit I was a useless piece of existence on this planet over something that is considered a cornerstone of pretty much everything in our society and generation.

How was I powerless? I had this belief embedded in my brain that shit just got a little out of hand. I had a job, my bills were paid, I wasn't going out, I wasn't hurting anyone, I was managing the household chores, I was happy, I was independent, I was an adult, I wasn't doing anything illegal, I was functioning.

And even worse, I had already admitted to myself that I was a functioning alcoholic, but I just didn't care. The past handful of years had been filled with chaos, pain, change, and loss. I accepted the fact that this was just how I am, and therefore that's how my life was going to be. The worst part of all is, I have always wanted to live, not just exist. But, I barely even existed. I was just just surviving, hoping everyday I wouldn't wake up the next.

It's like what they say about love and breakups and resentment, what's worse than hating someone or something is indifference. I didn't just hate myself and what I had become. I became indifferent to it and completely apathetic to the entire situation I had created.

It wasn't always shit. It was fun at first, until it wasn't. This had been years in the making. It started off as a nightly rendezvous with whoever I was dating, to relax and have fun with each other or a reason to go out with one another. Or a way to blow off steam after work with some coworkers. It wasn't a box on my daily checklist... yet.

Relationships started going away, I started becoming emotionally unpredictable. My depression grew along with the isolation once I realized that what I was spending on a shot at the bar was about 75% of the cost of a whole entire bottle, so I just started drinking at home.

I went from working in restaurants, a well decorated career of about 17 years, to working independently as a traveling escort, web cam model, adult entertainer, and Onlyfans model. At first I had started all of that pretty sober, But a year or so into realizing that I was working for myself and there really were no rules it gradually advanced to daily drinking. Quickly I lost all my motivation to even work for myself and hold myself accountable to do the things I needed to do to maintain an income, so back into the real life work force I went.

My mom was totally over my shit. The hospital stays, the drunk nightly calls never knowing which Alex she was going to get. So she said I had to move out. I pretty much would bounce from relationship to relationship to ensure I had some place to stay. I had been in a long distance relationship for quite sometime, but because of my drinking it seemed even that was in constant ebb and flow. Either I would drive myself to uncertainty and run away from it and say we needed a break, or I would do something so fucking stupid thoughtless and unforgivable that he would need a break from my bullshit. I am a master at self destruction. Even the relationships in between crumbled because there was no real or solid foundation that the were formed. They came to fruition solely from desperation and loneliness, and also knowing it would be conducive for my drinking if not enabled.

I moved back up to where I grew up in the house my brother had bought and was renting the bottom unit from him. I got a job at a local market as a cashier and things were going pretty good on my own, until they weren't. I had relocated but I never really unpacked, literally and metaphorically. Maybe because I was so used to living out of suitcases and never really grounding myself, I don't know. The only thing I really was concerned with was making sure I kept my job, that my bills were paid and rent was paid ahead of time, and I always had enough money on hand for liquor, cigarettes and pot.

Things were going well (so I thought) Until my brother gave me a 30 day eviction notice. He never gave me a reason why. I replayed everything in my mind since the day I moved in there over and over and over again, fine combing our lease agreement word for word hours at a time, looking for any and every single loophole or actual reason I fucked up. He never gave me any answer other than "Alex It is what it is, it's just time to go."

TO BE CONTINUED. (I HAVE TO GET READY FOR A MEETING.)

Okay, so where was I... Oh yeah, my brother, notifying me that I had 30 days to leave the apartment, which ,legally he totally could do because when you rent month to month that's a thing. I was fueled with rage, anger, and resentment. What I didn't know at the time was my mom had just told how she and her husband had found their best friend dead in his apartment. He died of a heart attack and was also an alcoholic like me. They think he was in his bathroom because the towel bar on the wall across from the toilet was torn down and so were the shower curtains and rod that they hung from. He had fallen into the bathtub, half in, legs hanging out and had bled out. I soon realized that because my mom had told my brother this, it had shook him and he was now haunted by a fear that had yet to happen to me, but he didn't want to take any chances of seeing a similar horror scene staring me in his future.

So now what? Well, thankfully I hadn't completely destroyed every relationship in my life up to this point. I let my boss at the time know that I was in the hospital and they were doing testing, and during that time I was in and out of hospitals for alcohol poisoning or just being stupid and friends contacting help out of concern. It wasn't completely a lie, but it also wasn't the whole truth of why I wasn't able to work. I soon let her know after she kept asking more frequently when I would be back and running out of reasons and excuses as to why medically I wasn't able to return. Finally I told her one day that at that time I was struggling with alcoholism and needed to go into treatment and work on my sobriety. She understood and said unfortunately she would have to hire someone until I was able to come back and we ended it on good terms.

I had a friend who was moving out of his moms and into a 2 bedroom apartment which he shared with another guy. We'll just call my friend D. Well My other best friend J was D's best friend as well. They both knew me as a functional alcoholic, but promised me I wouldn't be homeless and we would figure something out and they would help me move my stuff. D said I could share his room with him and I didn't have to worry about rent as long as I helped clean and cooked and gave him unlimited hugs.

So J rented a U haul, and we boxed up my shit and I moved in with D. Before I moved in D was sleeping on a sleeping bag on the floor with a tiny couch decor pillow and his X-Box and TV on the floor. So my mattress, box spring and dresser helped out. I had a lot of kitchen ware which was helpful because they were using plastic forks and basically eating fast food. It seemed like things would work out just fine. It wasn't the Ritz by any means, But I had a place to sleep, and a roof over my head, and a shower. And it was great at first... until it wasn't.

The apartment was in a pretty rough part of town, and was pretty much a crack den. It was right across the street from a liquor store and it wasn't uncommon to find syringes littered around the outside of the front of the building, with the smell of weed wafting in the air all around us.

I tried working on my Onlyfans, and my art, but at this point I was drinking from around 6/7 AM until I fell asleep around 2 AM, 11 PM on an early night. I wasn't working, and I didn't have to worry about rent, I had just enough income from my OnlyFans to be able to buy cigarettes and vodka. So that's all I really needed. I stopped showering, brushing my teeth, and barely left the apartment. 1) because I didn't want to go anywhere without my vodka and 2) making it down two flights of stairs was physically daunting to me (we were on the third floor). Things started to spiral out of control. D and I were fighting more often than not. My emotional state was unpredictable. I was constantly in and out of the hospital. Police taking me out in handcuffs to the 72 hour hold unit was no surprise.

Finally one day I was miserable, crying, completely smashed and hopeless. D, my mom, and my boyfriend all decided I should call this detox center nearby and do their 28 day program. I agreed only to get everyone the fuck off my back and be able to sober up for a bit and get the fuck out of that apartment.

They sent a car to come and get me. While waiting, I chugged 3/4 of a 1.75 mL bottle of Svedka. I vaguely remember someone picking me up, being in the vehicle on the way to the center. Sitting in the waiting room and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital asking why I wasn't at the center.

Apparently The nurse had started asking me questions and doing my evaluation at the center, but I passed the fuck out and they had to send me to the ER. So the next day at 7:30 AM I was shuttled back to the center to begin this 28 day bullshit.

Detox was fine, they just medicated me and then after 5 days of that, I was moved to the 28 day program on the other side of the building. I hated it at first, and then I just accepted that If I didn't do it My mother and anyone I had left that cared about me for whatever reason would just give up on me, I mean, I would too.

I participated to the best of my ability which was pretty much as minimal effort as possible and just kept counting down the days. The day I was released as soon as I got to the apartment, I went across the street to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Svedka. I only drank like 1/4 of it, which was far better than what I had been drinking which was around one to two bottles a day, but mind you I got back to the apartment around 5 PM so I had about 12 hours of catching up to do.

Things were a little better, the occasional call with my mom where she assured me I sounded better and she was glad and I would lie about doctors appointments coming up and how I was doing and how much better life was. And the other calls when she totally knew I was fucked up.

Shit started hitting the fan again. My health was declining, like my gums were bleeding, my eye sight was terrible, I never ate and If i did I was bingeing and purging, I was covered in bruises, D and I were arguing, calling the police on one another for one stupid reason or another. I broke one foot fucking around with D dancing shitfaced one night and then three days later I went to open the fridge one morning after having my normal breakfast ( 1/2 a bottle of Svedka), and lost my balance. I slipped, feet flying out from underneath me and my back and head falling straight down onto the hardwood floor. My other foot that wasn't broken, swung behind the fridge and hit the corner of the wall behind it and was now broken as well. Thank god no one was home because I screamed so loud I'm pretty sure I had lost my voice. After the initial shock I evaluated myself and nothing was really noticeably wrong except I was a little sore. So I continued to go about my usual day which consisted of sitting in the kitchen with my laptop, kitchen window open smoking a cigarette, drinking my vodka, watching useless shit on Hulu, and looking at stuff on my phone. The only reason I really got up was to refill my water chaser.

Drinking so I didn't have to feel my back pain only lasted so long. The next day I couldn't even roll over in bed without screaming in agony. D had to help me get up, shower, walk, basically everything despite me being a major bitch most of the time. Finally I caved. Everyone was on my ass about going to my favorite place : The Hospital.

Let's just say I was thrilled. I had broken 2 vertebrae and they found a Hiatal hernia in my GI tract along with fatty deposits and fatty infiltration in my Liver. I got a call from my mom, and she said I was coming back to Florida. I knew that this time, it was it. I had no other options. I was miserable, our roof was leaking, I couldn't take care of myself, I couldn't stay sober, and I didn't have any idea what I was going to do. I knew if I went to Florida it would be my only chance. I had begged my mom multiple times that past year, especially when my brother gave me the thirty day notice, to please let me come down and just stay with them for a week until I found somewhere down here there to stay even if it was a treatment center and it was always no, until now. So I knew she was playing around. I drank as much as I could the night before I left to go to the airport. I was up at 4 AM with just a back pack, trying to finish as much as that bottle as I could before I got on that plane. I knew I had some leftover Valium the hospital gave me for my back, and thank god I did because if I didn't have that i'm positive my Delirium Tremens (DT's) would have sent me into a stroke or heart attack. I didn't finish the bottle and was pretty coherent on the trip back to Florida. I took a Valium when I went on the plane and slept for the entire flight pretty much. My step dad picked me up in Orlando and we headed back to our house near Tampa.

We got home and the first 2 or 3 days I just mainly rested. My mom and I went to a 5:30 meeting one night and we both decided that was not the meeting for me.

Well as the universe would because, of course it fucking would rule in favor of what I had been fighting against for so long, it just happened to be that our neighbor the next street over was also in recovery and had been going to meetings and just got one month sober. She insisted I needed to go with her to the noon meeting and she would pick me up everyday. Funny enough it was the same place where me and my mom had gone to the 5:30 one.

This Noon meeting was different. I began going everyday with her. And soon after I started going to the 5:30 ones as well. Shortly into it I got a temporary sponsor who like I said in a previous post gave me some pretty bomb ass suggestions that also helped me with my eating disorder that I have been battling for the past 17 years.

Today I have been sober for 47 days, and binge/purge free for 1 month (30 days). So it wasn't just one thing that got me to step one, and it wasn't just me. I didn't want to be completely defeated and forced into it. I had accepted I was a functioning alcoholic a long time ago, but I finally accepted the fact that I had to let it go, and throw in the white towel before I was completely fucked. I chose to take back my power of choice, and the direction my life was going. It took a lot of experiences, some good, some awful ,some fun, some traumatic, and some just inexplicable. It took losing almost everything including myself. It took me ,taking a chance, on me.

Getting to Step one was an entire process in itself. But once I accepted that I had to honestly admit and do something about not being able to drink... like ever, that was a bittersweet day.

Never is it usually a fairy tale or super inspirational story of strength and positivity that brings one to Step One. But it sure as hell is a memorable one.

So here's me today. Still sober, still healing, and beyond grateful I'm not in a grave.

Anyway, if this bat-shit crazy white girl can turn this crap around, I mean, I'm not a betting woman, but i'm willing to bet you don't want to look like I did in the pictures from the hospital, because I sure didn't.

To whoever comes across this, I hope it helps, even just a little. Even if you look at those photos and are like "DAYUMMM THAT BITCH IS BUSTED YO!" ... yeah, you're right I was. But don't get to that point.

My name is Alex, and I am in Recovery from liquid poison, Thanks for letting me share.

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