#i know im not gonna censor myself again so if i wanna scream in the tags i damn well will

[jaarijani]

yknow the difference between our rampant horniness and that on twitter/insta/tiktok is that i believe we're all old and sensible enough to understand that we wouldn't say any of the depraved shit we think to their faces, and as far as i know most tumblr fans are just kinda down to earth, whereas on twitter i feel like fans like to get up into their faces and just shout whatever they're thinking like

friends have some respect, yes im attracted to these men but i at least have the decency to keep my umazane misli in my brain and on my silly little tumblr blog these guys are people too and if someone randomly went up to you to tell you they wanna fuck you you'd be uncomfortable too

all that to say that if any of the guys do come here

please do not

and absolutely do not look at my tags 🫡

[raptorfics]

More Alex/You: You and Alex finally have “the talk” about his sobriety problems.

this came out longer than it was supposed to, but enjoy!

Alex shouted out lyrics at the top of his lungs while he drunkenly danced around in the living room of the apartment. You emerged from the bedroom and caught sight of him, wine bottle in hand while stumbling about before dropping it onto the floor. The bottle shattered and he stopped to shout, “Fuck!”

“Alex, what the fuck are you doing?” You said as you gestured to the mess he had made. He looked between you and the bottle before he shrugged.

“Dunno, jus’ singin’,” he slurred out. He stepped over the broken glass and made his way to the fridge, where he pulled out a beer and cracked it open.

“Alex, no,” you frown, walking to him and snatching the beer from his grasp, “no more drinks, clean up your mess.”

“No!” Alex whined, “I don't wanna clean it!”

“Alex, clean your mess.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don't, you'll make Ryland mad.”

“He's already mad at me,” Alex frowned, “Said I'm the worst thing ’s ever happened to 'im.”

“Alex,” you groaned, “I'm sure he didn't mean it, but please just clean up the mess or at least help me clean it up.”

“No, he meant it, and he's right,” Alex got quiet and the music blaring from the speakers made the moment less somber than it actually had become.

“He's not right,” you argued, “he's just an angry dude with problems of his own. He shouldn't be taking that out on you.” You walk over to the speaker and shut it off, sighing at the low buzz of quiet that flooded the apartment.

“But why not? Why not take it out on me?” Alex said.

“Alex, you're worrying me,” You sighed, slumping slightly in place from exhaustion because of the late hour.. “You don't deserve to have someone take their anger out on you like that.”

“But I'm a bad person,” he whispered, voice quivering, “I put people through more trouble than they should be in and I can't even bother to pay Ryland back all the rent I owe him.”

“Alex,” you don't know how to make him feel better honestly, so you stop yourself short before you say something uncalled for..

“I'm a fucking waste of space who makes messes that I can't even fuckin’ fix!” Alex shouted the last word before grabbing the bong off the side table and throwing it to the wall, watching as it shattered.

“Alex, what the fuck!” You screamed at him.

“What?!” He growled, and you jumped. There was an intensity in his look that actually scared you, and he began to step closer, “What? I'm too scary, too loud, need me to quiet down?”

“I need you to calm down,” You said desperately, taking a step back.

“Why calm down? Why do anything, why censor yourself when your entire existence is a fucking joke to people?” Alex spits out a laugh, the sound coming out raw and harsh from his throat. You look over him worriedly, biting your lip.

“Alex, I think you've had enough to drink tonight.”

“I haven't had enough.” He argued, reaching out to take the beer you'd been holding the entire time.

“Alex,” you warned and took another step away from your friend, shoving the bottle behind you, “no.”

“Gimme the beer.” He demanded, reaching out as you held it farther from his reach.

“Alex.”

“Just fuckin’-” he reached harder, and you pulled it back further.

“Alex.”

“Just give the fuckin’-” he reached again, and you snapped.

“Alex, no!” You shouted, and you slammed the can on the ground. Alex jumped back, staring at you in shock.

“I... sorry.” He whispered.

“Go to bed.” You said quietly as you feel the spilled wine from before begin to trace at your feet. That can’t be good for the carpet, you think.

“I'm not a child.” He pouted.

“Did I fucking ask?” You raised your voice, finally fed up with Alex and his actions. “Just go to Ryland’s room and go to bed, please.”

Alex opened his mouth to argue before he  quickly closed it. He shuffled to the bedroom, looking back at you once more before going inside and shutting the door.

You sighed as you looked at the mess that was made. Looks like you were gonna have to clean it by yourself.

…

When Ryland got back home, he caught you cleaning wine and glass off the floor.

“Whoa, what the fuck happened here?” Ryland asked you.

“Alex happened.”

“Of fuckin’ course he did,” Ryland sighed. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed the extra broom before coming over to you, already kneeling next to you on the floor. “Need help?”

“I’d appreciate it, yeah.” He nodded, and you both began to clean in silence. You felt Ryland peering over at you while he swept, nearly sweeping the pile of glass into a wall.

“What are you looking at?” You demanded.

“You’re angrily scrubbing wine (since he broke the wine bottle, I don’t think the beer broke?) off the floor with your hands,” he said, “just wanted to check in because you know… We have a mop.”

You stopped scrubbing and glared at him. “I know that, maybe I like to make things harder for myself.”

Ryland held up his hands in defense. “Alright, don’t get testy,” You sighed and ran your dry hand down your face and through your hair. “What’s up, really?” You stood up from the mess and dropped onto the nearby loveseat, burying your face into the couch cushion and shouting nonsensical words.

“I can’t understand you when your face is in the pillow.”

You lifted your head up and frowned. “Alex is a mess and I’m worried about him.”

“That’s it?” Ryland laughed.

“Yes. He’s got a problem and he’s sad and it’s escalated to actually breaking shit,” you told him.

“Oh. Well,” Ryland sat on the couch opposite you, “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I think I need to talk to him.”

“You think?” You nodded, deciding this once you’ll let Ryland’s sarcastic tone slide.

“I’d arrange an intervention, but I don’t think people care enough about his alcoholism to want to do that.” You said, shooting a glare at Ryland.

“Hey, I care, I just don’t know what to say.” Ryland quickly defended himself, making you sigh..

“If you care, be here when I talk to him.” Ryland tried to argue, but you quickly cut him off. “I think it’d be good for him to hear this coming from the people who he’s closest to, and since we’re his roommates, we’re as close as he’s got.”

Ryland rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Fine. When you doing this?”

“In the morning. The sooner, the fuckin’ better.” You commented.

“Sounds fair. You think it’ll work?”

“God, I fucking hope so.”

…

Alex stumbled out of Ryland’s room in the morning, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. He wandered into the kitchen to find both Ryland and you sitting at the table, hands folded in front of yourselves.

“Alex.” You said. He waved awkwardly at the both of you.

“Hey guys,” he said groggily, “how’s your morning hanging?”

“Good, it’s good,” Ryland mumbled. It was quiet besides the sounds of Alex rummaging around to find something for breakfast. Once he settled on plain toast and a glass of day old orange juice, he sat across you both from the table and bit in.

“So what are you guys doing here? You’re never up this early,” Alex sipped from his glass.

“We know, but,” You cut Ryland off.

“Alex, you have a drinking problem.” You said bluntly. Alex stopped mid-sip, peering over the rim at you.

“Not what I was going to say, but that’s as good of a lead in as we’re gonna get.” Ryland splayed his hands out on the table. “Alex, something’s wrong with you and we want to help you.” It’s silent as the older man puts down his glass, his stare on the both of you wide eyed and confused. When he finally speaks up, there’s a crack in his voice.

“But I- I don’t need help,” Alex laughed, his eyebrows creasing.

“No,” you countered, “you do need help. Like, seriously.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Alex said simply, shaking his head as he took another bite out of his breakfast.

“You think that, but you have a drinking problem that’s getting dangerous.” Ryland told him.

Alex scoffed. “Pfft, how?”

“You threw your bong at the wall, as I hear.”

“I always throw things when I’m drunk, that’s why I can’t go back to that mini golf course, remember?” Alex pointed at you both as he said it, hoping to bring back the memory. You did remember Alex throwing a club and then proceeding to knock over the mini windmill in a fit of rage, which caused the indefinite ban. But that wasn’t the focus here.

“Alex, you...you have deeper problems than your excessive drinking that just makes your drinking worse.” You tried to explain.

Alex frowned, lines creasing over his face easily as he shakes his head. “Who are you to say that? My life is just fine the way it is.”

“Sleeping on a fold out bed in your best friend’s shared apartment is fine in your book?” You said flatly.

“It could be worse,” he shrugged, “I could be sleeping in the backroom of a bar again.” He laughed, an empty feel to it.

“See, it’s that,” You pointed, “that right there that makes my point. Last night you cried that Ryland called you the worst thing in his life.” After your comment, Alex is quiet, and Ryland is looking down at his hands.

“So?” Alex mumbled, “I’ve had people say worse things to me.”

“But you shouldn’t just fucking accept that, even if you’ve ‘heard worse’,” you argued, “You shouldn’t have to fuckin’ hear it at all, especially not from Ryland.” You spat, facing Ryland with a scowl.

“What, this isn’t my intervention, it’s his!” Ryland points his hands at Alex.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I’ll get back to you eventually,” you turned back to Alex and continued to speak, “Alex, we care about you and your health.”

“If you care about me, then stop trying to help me. I’m functioning!”

“Being a functioning alcoholic still makes you a fucking alcoholic!” You slammed your hands on the table and lifted yourself from your seat. Alex and Ryland jumped in their seats. You weren’t usually one to get so worked up, and it honestly surprised the both of them to see you so angry.

“But..” Alex started, but quickly stopped himself.

“You have a problem… I keep saying that because it’s true and you’re not listening to me.” You sat back down in your seat and sighed, leaning back as you ran a hand over your eyes tiredly. “I’m sorry I yelled,” you quickly add.

“I hear you though.” Alex whispered.

“I’m not hoping to make all your problems go away, but I want to help you with getting some therapy at least. Maybe some support groups.” You ramble slightly as you try to get your nerves back in check, playing with your hands. “Get you to talk about it, be honest. You matter, Alex,” you make eye contact with him, hoping your message gets through. “A lot more than you think you do.”

“...No support groups yet,” Alex offered nervously. He paused and drummed his fingers against his now empty glass. “I will agree to therapy though.”

“Cool.” You released the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding and sunk further into the chair, not minding how the old wood creaked as you did.

“That went smoother than I expected it to,” Ryland muttered, “didn’t think he’d so easily want to get help.”

“If my drinking is beginning to hurt the ones around me,” Alex spoke up gesturing to you slightly, “I have to start taking the first steps to making sure it doesn’t hurt anyone any further.”

“I’m very proud of you, Alex,” you reached across the table and placed your hand atop his, “not many people do what you decided today. And we’re going to help you, through the whole thing.” Alex beamed.

“I’m proud of you, too, Alex,” Ryland praised, smiling across the table at him.

“Oh fuck, if you guys keep praising me like this, I’m going to start crying.”

“Well there’s no time to cry,” You said, “You’ve got a lot of things to do.” You pat his hand before letting it go, not missing the twitch in his fingers as you did.

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters,” You stood up from the table, walking to the corner of the room and grabbing a broom, “you can finish cleaning up the mess you made last night.”

“Wait, what?” Alex questioned, frowning as you handed the broom to him.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to be the one to do that. So you and Ryland can bond all over again by cleaning the apartment while I take a well-deserved day off.”

“Excuse me?” Ryland sputtered, “Why do I have to clean?”

“Because I heard him puking in your room last night,” Ryland gasped and shot daggers at Alex, “so it’d make sense that you’d be assisting in that. Also you called Alex the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, so I think it’s fair.”

“And what are you going to do?” Ryland interrogated.

“I’m going to Lorenzo’s place. He’s gonna teach me to play Gauntlet while you two get reacquainted.”

“You had this planned, didn’t you?” Ryland’s eyes narrowed at you as you walked to the front door, grabbing your house keys off the counter.

“No, but I’m sure Lorenzo’s happy to teach me about Gauntlet anytime. Bye!” You swiftly exited the apartment, leaving Alex and Ryland to themselves. You were sure they’d be fine.