#so overwhelmed and disappointed i just know it

[syluslnd]

Sssooo... thinking of Stalker Sylus the first time he gets to catch MC masturbating...

Stalker sylus catching you masturbating

You had no idea you were being watched, none at all. The apartment was supposed to be your safe space, where no one could see you in your most vulnerable moments. But Sylus had been watching for weeks now, his eyes always on you, tracking every move you made, every sigh, every flutter of your lashes.

Sylus had always thought you were pure, an innocent creature who stirred something primal in him. He'd set up the cameras around your home, hidden in the shadows of your bookshelves, the corners of your ceiling. He was never far, always lurking, always observing.

Tonight, though, was different. You had no idea what you were doing to him. The way your hand slipped beneath the sheets, your breath catching in the quiet of your bedroom. Sylus leaned forward in his dark office, eyes glued to the monitor. He couldn't look away, couldn't believe what he was seeing. His innocent little kitten, no longer as innocent as he thought.

The way you whimpered softly, biting your lip, your cheeks flushed—he watched with a dark satisfaction growing inside him, feeling a surge of possessiveness like never before.

His fingers hovered over his phone, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Sweetie” he typed, the word dripping with that familiar teasing energy. “You know l've been watching, right?”

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling you. You grabbed it, heart pounding as you read the message. A cold shiver ran down your spine. He knows?

Before you could even react, another message came through. “I'm on my way to you. Don't move.”

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, a mixture of fear and excitement building inside you. You looked around your empty room, the dim lighting suddenly feeling oppressive, like the walls were closing in on you. You knew he had his darker side-Sylus was dangerous, a man not to be crossed.

But he also had a soft spot for you. His obsession with you had always been more protective than harmful.

What had you gotten yourself into?

A knock sounded at your door mere minutes later, though you hadn't heard any footsteps.

Sylus was always swift, always silent. You hesitated, but the door creaked open before you could even reach it.

And there he was, leaning casually in the doorway, his dark suit clinging to every muscle, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, locking it, his lips curling into that maddening smirk.

"Well, well” he drawled, his voice low and dripping with amusement "I didn't know my little kitten had such a dirty side. How long have you been hiding that from me, sweetie?"

Your breath hitched as Sylus stalked toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your pulse quicken, the heat rising in your cheeks as he got closer, the intensity in his gaze sending a thrill through you. He stopped just inches away, his presence overwhelming, the air around him electric.

"You weren't supposed to see that" you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled softly, tilting your chin up with one finger so that you were forced to meet his gaze. "Oh, but I did. And I have to say, kitten, I'm not disappointed." His voice was a low purr, dripping with that familiar, teasing tone. "I always thought you were innocent, but it seems l've been missing out."

His eyes darkened as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me, sweetie" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin "were you thinking about me?"

The question sent a jolt of panic through you but there was no denying the effect his voice had on you. Sylus knew exactly how to get under your skin, how to toy with your emotions and now that he knew your secret, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

"I-" You tried to form a coherent response but his hand had already found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Don't be shy, kitten” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck. "You don't need to hide from me anymore. I've seen everything." His words were dark, yet there was something comforting about the way he held you, like even in this twisted obsession, you were safe in his arms.

The game had changed and you knew Sylus wouldn't let you forget it

You stood frozen in his arms, your mind spinning from his words, from his touch.

Sylus held you against him like you were his most prized possession-his obsession fully realized. The teasing look in his eyes deepened, flickering between dark amusement and something more primal.

His thumb traced slow circles against your hip, a touch that sent shivers up your spine.

"You know, sweetie" he continued in that low, velvety voice "I've been patient with you. Watching from afar...protecting you." His lips hovered just above yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your skin. "But now, I think it's time I stop being so... subtle."

Your heart pounded, torn between the thrill of his closeness and the fear of how much he knew-how much he'd seen. The intensity in his eyes, the possessiveness that radiated off him-it was overwhelming.

"Sylus, please" you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. A part of you wanted him to stop, to give you space to think, but another part, the part he was awakening with every word, with every slow caress, wanted to give in. You could see the hunger in his eyes-the need to own every part of you.

His lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

"Please? You're going to have to be more specific than that, kitten. Do you want me to stop?" His fingers slid up to your chin, forcing you to look at him again, to confront the heat in his gaze.

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you with every beat of your heart. You should tell him to stop, but you couldn't deny the way your body responded to his. It was maddening.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, so close that the air between you felt like a spark about to ignite. But he didn't kiss you. Not yet. Instead, he held you there, teasing, making you wait.

"You're mine” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, "whether you admit it or not." His eyes darkened, his hand tightening slightly around your waist as if to make the point clear. "And now that l've seen how much you want me... well, kitten, there's no turning back."

A shiver ran through you, but this time, it wasn't just fear. It was anticipation. Sylus had seen everything-your vulnerability, your desires—and now he wasn't just your protector, your stalker. He was the one thing you couldn't run from.

Without warning, his lips crashed down on yours, the kiss rough and claiming. It was everything you'd feared, everything you'd secretly craved. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that stole your breath, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, you were left gasping, your body trembling under the weight of what had just happened. He looked down at you with that smug, satisfied grin, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

"You'll never be able to hide from me, sweetie," he said softly, almost sweetly, but there was that edge to his voice, a dark promise laced within the words. "I'll always know what you're doing, what you're thinking."

His hand slid up your arm, fingers brushing against your neck, making you shiver. "And next time," he whispered, his lips close to your ear, "you won't be playing with yourself alone. You'll be mine. Completely."

The room felt heavy with tension, the air thick with the weight of his words. You knew Sylus was serious. There was no escaping him, not now, not after this.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn't want to escape at all.

[swampgallows]

.

complaining here because i dont want to burden my friends but still want to collect validation in the form of little pixel hearts

my moms mental state has gotten so much worse and as a result her hoarding is becoming even worse and even more impossible to tolerate. i have tried to have more sympathy about it and to help her with it, sitting with her while she sorts "a box a day" or even just "one thing a day". ive gently recommended she get a new therapist but all she did was change her horse on the SSRI carousel and start smoking weed. i've linked her articles and books and videos, and when she doesnt look at any of them i try to relay to her in conversation what i learned from them when she bemoans "why am i like this?". none of it matters. she just complains that it's "too overwhelming" and she "can't help it" even though she refuses any help at all.

i know it is a mental disorder. i know it is overwhelming. i know it causes her physical pain to get rid of things and at the same time cripples her with guilt to keep it all. but as of right now all we're trying to get her to do is just rearrange the things so that they aren't turning our house into a fucking obstacle course, and she pushes back on that too. like she doesn't want to even organize the piles AS THEY ARE and condense them because she'd rather be "actually throwing things away and putting things away like a human being!"—the thing that she very specifically CANNOT do.

and if we consolidate it on our own? hooooly christ. she goes on a fucking rampage, slamming doors, screaming/sobbing, throwing shit (her shit. it's all her shit). because it's HER stuff and WE touched it and she feels guilty about all her stuff. she STILL talks about when my sister tidied the spice cabinet, convinced that "she threw everything away!" and that was years ago. (my sister is a different kind of insane and probably DID throw a bunch of shit away, but either way all it did was give my mom ammunition for the rest of her life to never do anything.)

this is long enough already so all i can say is that im disappointed in myself for losing more of my tolerance and sympathy. like at this point the only reason i care is because i have to fucking live here since i havent been able to stay employed or move out yet and my mental health is also incredibly bad. but also my mom's becoming much more intolerant and hateful as a human being, which makes me less inclined to keep trying. like she deliberately brings up incendiary topics (usually politics), whips herself up into a cyclone of hatred (every '-ism' you can think of) while preemptively apologizing for things that she thinks that we think about the politics that she "doesn't like talking about" despite blatantly shifting the conversation to bring them up, then devolves into histrionic crying or yelling at us for something she has imagined. this is almost every day. i know she's my mom so im trying but christ alive

[beneaththebirches]

Liability: Part 2

Pairing: College Student!Rafe Cameron x Cousenlor!Reader

Summary: After a month and a half of meeting, tensions rise. But not in the way that either of them expected.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, flirty talking.

Word Count: 5.6k (I’m so sorry lol)

A/n: Hi guys! just a reminder that this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy!

Part 1

“Is there anything you want to talk about today?” Rafe’s eyes flicker from the drops of rain on the window to me, head shaking simply as I tuck my legs underneath me. He seems particularly tense today, because of anger or disappointment, who’s to say. But I can’t help but feel his sour mood right in my sternum, my whole body aching uncomfortably at the sight of his own discomfort. “I’m going to give you options- I learned about this in child psychology-”

“Oh fuck off.”

“-and I thought it would help.” He cracks a small smile at my attempt to make him laugh and for extra help, I reach over to flick the lava lamp on, knowing how much the nostalgic decoration has helped comfort him in the last month and a half of our meetings. Other than the incessant flirting. “I’m going to give you some options- things that I’m interested in talking about- and then you can choose which ones you want to talk about.” His eyes harden briefly, strong shoulders rolling in an attempt to relax. “Sound good?”

“I seriously have no other choice, do I?” He deadpans but I respond with a wide grin and a simple shake of my head.  “Fine, what’re my options?” 

“So, we can talk about your family and hometown, your behavioral issues, or the people who are currently in your life-”

“Last one, please.” He pleads, cutting me off as my lips part in quiet shock, adding his desperation to not talk about his past or family to the list of very evident concerns that have come from our meetings. I decide to cut him some slack so, instead of investigating, I instigate.

“Please- god, who taught you manners in the last forty-eight hours.” A small smirk spreads across his lips at my teasing, the deep blush on his cheeks crawling all the way down his neck and under the neckline of the baby-blue t-shirt that clings to his torso. Clings? Really, Y/n?  “I’d like to get them on the phone and get some pointers on how to keep you in line.” The eye contact that he maintains is down right cruel and anything but innocent, the air quickly sucked from my lungs as I try to suck in a gulp of air.  

“I can be persuaded.” 

What the fuck. 

“Hey now-” I clear my throat, suddenly overwhelmed with butterflies in my stomach, head pounding at his words but it’s really his voice, the octave dip- “Alright, people in your life- other than me- rapid fire, lets go.” I clear my throat, running my hands down my face to try to recover as Rafe chuckles to himself, leaning back into the couch, knees parting to spread across the couch.

This is definitely breaking some guideline or rule out there. 

“Uh, Josh- I guess he’s my friend- he’s the quarterback on the football team, my friend Topper from my hometown, my younger sister and, uh, that’s pretty much it.” He rambles quickly as I jot the names down in my notebook, writing question marks next to each of their names in hopes that I’ll fill in more information later down the line.

“Topper? Who names their kid ‘Topper’.” I snort and a bright smile spreads across Rafe’s lips and he shrugs, head shaking. Who names their kid Rafe, though? “Fair enough. So, younger sister, huh? Any more siblings?” His spine straightens at my proposition but he’s quick to squash my dreams of talking about more, his lips straightening into a fine line and his forehead creases.

Over the weeks I’ve seen Rafe, he’s gotten increasingly better at calling bullshit when it comes to my subtle prying, quickly setting our conversations back on a track that he’s comfortable with. My coworkers did not give his intelligence enough credit.

“I said I’d talk about important people.” He urges, fists clenching in his lap and just like that, he’s agitated and rebuilding the walls he has built so high around his mind. So he has other siblings- check.

“Also fair enough.” I huff, letting it go. He’s nearly impossible to sway, more impossible to argue with so giving into his temperamental attitude and his moodiness is sort of always my best and only option. I wonder where that defense mechanism came from. “No girlfriend?” My voice raises at the end and so do his brows, head tilting as a sudden playful vibe takes over his expression.

“Not that I know of.” He folds his hands in his lap, a small smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes flicker to the floor. I can see the question he’s begging to ask, the infamous ’why do you want to know’ or ‘care to fill that role?’ but he doesn’t, just snaps his mouth shut with a shit-eating, tight-lipped grin.

“Interesting.” Picking up my pen, I write no girlfriend and I bite at the inside of my cheek to hide a cocky smile as Rafe leans towards me, trying to get a good view of the paper in my hands. 

“Wha- Why is that interesting? What are you writing?” He asks, reaching out to tip the edge of the book down, neck craning to read the few words I have written. “Really? The notebook thing is really passive aggressive, doc.” He taunts, snatching the book from my hands before tossing it onto the table between us. 

“You’re a jock with anger issues. Isn’t dating around supposed to be your man-whore thing right?” 

“I don’t know, is it?” His head tilts cutely at me, brows furrowed. 

“Touche.” I whisper, feeling so suddenly small in his gaze, blue eyes flickering over my nervous expression. I’ll never admit to him that I find him intimidating- not because of his violent actions or mood swings, but because of the way he looks at me, the depth behind his eyes, the ways his pupils expand and blue hues darken- like a predator stalking a prey.

I’m definitely not the one in a position of power in this scenario. 

“Am I allowed to ask you questions now?” He asks, tone dropping again as his jaw clenches.

“How is that relevant?” My voice squeaks and he grins, taking advantage of my meek and nervous demeanor like he always does, and he quickly takes control of the conversation to benefit his own comfort. He leans towards me, lips turned down in a nonchalant frown and shrugs.

“You want me to talk, I want to pass time. Might as well make this interesting.” Like this isn’t extremely interesting as it is? His proposition makes my brows tick up, wondering the weight behind his words and if he truly just wants to ask me innocent questions. The look in his eyes says otherwise. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m interesting.” I meet him halfway, leaning towards him with a teasing look, eyes flickering back and forth between his. The silence that swarms around us is deafening, the blood in my body rushing to my head and pumping loudly in my ears as a slow grin stretches across his lips. “Fine, you can ask me a couple of questions- use them wisely- but I get to know more about your younger sister.” 

“Fair trade.” He claps, mirroring me and folding his legs beneath him as he thinks, finger tapping his chin playfully. “Is this on or off the record?” His question makes me laugh, adoring the fact that he takes school counseling seriously enough to think that he could possibly get in more trouble for asking me simple questions. 

“There’s no record, dude. I get paid either way and you’re not going to listen to me anyways.”

“At least you’re self aware.” He grins. “Favorite color?”

“Seriously?”  I ask, remembering how much shit he gave me for asking his favorite color so many sessions ago. He hides his smile behind his hand, chest rumbling in quiet laughter as I gawk at him. “Really, Rafe?” 

“See how stupid that question is now-”

“Yellow, asshole. Next question.” His eyes light up with mischief at my attempted insult but he just nods, accepting my answer. He ponders for a few seconds, blue eyes seemingly inspecting my frame, down to the smallest of details; the color of my eyes, the necklace around my neck, my hands.

“I don’t see a ring so I assume you’re not engaged or married.” He nods towards my ring finger with a curious, boyish smile. What I want to ask is ‘why do you care’ or ‘why is this important’ but then I realize that he wasn’t asking.

“Is that a question?”

“More like an observation.” He shrugs, fingers tapping against the expanses of his thighs. It takes everything to avert my eyes from the repeated movement, almost as if he’s trying to draw my attention away, to catch me off guard like I’ve been trying to do for weeks now. 

“No secret fiance or husband.” I reply simply, heart aching painfully in my chest. “I live alone with my two cats.” My eyes flicker down to my lap, cheeks warming bashfully because I can only assume how sad that sounds to anyone other than me.

I’m fine and content with my two fur babies, in my perfectly decorated and organized apartment, no man- or woman- there to mess anything up or disturb the peace I’ve created. 

But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m at peace with the loneliness I feet at two in the morning when I’m curled under a blanket, the sound of the TV going in one ear and out the other as I wait for my phone to buzz with any notification- a text, a call, a snap, anything.

“That’s sad.” My head snaps up to look at him, eyes thinning to slits as I scoff, watching his brows furrow, smile faltering at the realization that hurt my feelings.

“And you’re in mandatory counseling. What’s sadder?” The words leave my lips faster than I can control, his words hitting a bit too close to home- too close for comfort. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for self deprecating comments and mutual teasing but sometimes I can’t take it as well as I dish it.

“Fuck, you’re mean-”

“And you’re stalling.” Snatching my notebook from the table, I place it back in my lap, opening it to a fresh page and getting my pen ready. His eyes widen briefly at my subtle threat to psychoanalyze him- his favorite activity- and his hands raise in surrender.

“Fine, fuck.” He huffs, urging me to return the notebook to its previous position on the table but I keep it close, hugging it to my chest as he sighs. “Do you enjoy bullying me?”

“Yes, I enjoy bullying you. You’re an easy target.” I say plainly, waiting for him to speak but he just scoffs, teasing eyes flickering back and forth from me to the clock on the wall.

“This is a toxic therapeutic environment. Is there a Title X form I can fill out?” I bite back a laugh at his painfully ironic joke, my cheeks puffing out as I try desperately to avoid laughing at his perfectly timed joke.

“I’ll give you that one. That’s good.” I crack, ignoring the obvious flutter in my stomach. “Ask me a question, hot shot.” I offer, watching his eyes light up at the chance and I can tell that he’s going to try to use it wisely. He bites at his lips as he thinks, eyes squinting briefly as if he’s the one analyzing me and his gaze flickers back and forth between my eyes.

“If everyone comes to you to talk, who do you go to?” His question feels like a punch to the gut, heart aching behind my ribs, but I maintain the professional smile on my lips, hands shaking in my lap as I press them into fists. He waits patiently but there’s no ounce of malice or mischief behind his eyes. He’s truly curious this time and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he actually cares. 

“That was oddly personal.” I laugh awkwardly, setting my pride aside for a second and taking a deep breath.

“You want me to talk about my sister? Then you’ve gotta earn it.” 

Fuck he’s right. 

I wrack my mind, trying to come up with something vague, something simple to offer him so he doesn’t worry or have any more prying questions. If he thinks that he doesn’t like to talk about those closest to him then he hasn’t heard my extremely short list of people that I interact with on a day, let alone the people I actually enjoy talking to (other than him).

But I have to give him something if I want to know more about his past and his support system.

“My list of ‘important people’ is even shorter than yours. I do fine, though.” I hold my breath, hoping he’ll accept my sad excuse for an answer but he just nods slowly, leaning back into the couch with a cocked head, lips fanning out into a small smile. A moment or two passes as the sound of my breathing slows, Rafe’s eyes moving to look over at the lava lamp. 

“I call my younger sister Wheezie.” I fight the urge to reach over for my notebook, realizing that he’d probably shut down if I tried to document anything he’s telling me. Guess my memory will have to do. “She’s 14- maybe 15 by now. I haven’t seen her in a while.” His tone saddens a bit but his eyes glimmer as if he’s remembering something fond, deep eyes full of sudden adoration. “I was such a jackass to her when I was younger. Now that I’m away from home, I want to talk to her more- text her more.” He sounds guilty, eyes closing briefly before he returns his gaze back to me, waiting for me to digest the information and respond accordingly.

“That’s good.” 

“She’s way more smart than I am- such a fucking spitfire.” He grins with a scoff, shaking his head and I can only imagine a shorter, girlier version of him, commanding those around her and teasing everyone in site. I bet her and I would get alone nicely.

“I can see who she learned that from.” He grins shamelessly at my teasing, cheeks reddening briefly before he flashes his eyes at me, fingers prying at the strings on his sweatpants. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t the best influence.” His once reminiscent and happy expression turns sour suddenly, lips tugging down into a guilty, frustrated frown.

“Wanna talk about it?” Don’t forget to do your job, Y/n.

“Not really.” He sighs, reaching up to run his fingers through his unruly hair, eyes flickering briefly up to the clock as I, too, notice our lack of time. We’ve talked more today about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about than all of our meetings combined and, sure, that’s a good thing but I can’t begin to ignore the weight- the tension- that’s suddenly filled the room at the mention of his sister and the possible wrong-doing he’s committed against her.

“Do you need to talk about anything?” I ask with an uncomfortable sigh, anxiety sitting on my chest like a twenty pound weight. 

“Do you?” He dodges but not to avoid the question I asked but because, yet again, he’s more interested in talking about me.

“We’re not here for me.” I smile kindly but he’s being completely sincere.

“Well, I am.” He shrugs, his confession making my heart skip beats as he continues. “If I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here.” There’s a sense of fondness in his voice that makes me grin like an idiot and he realizes almost instantaneously the weight behind his words.

If I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here. 

“Oh, I’ve definitely grown on you.” I gawk, lips parted in proud shock.

“No, but the lava lamp has.” He denies with a click of his tongue, jutting his thumb in the direction of the bright object, the glowing orbs bouncing up and down as a sort of pendulum.

A few dazed moments pass and Rafe is still stuck looking at the lava lamp as if he’s entranced, a small smile on his lips and the clock ticks louder and louder behind us as minutes pass. I feel antsy to ask him more, knowing that it’ll be a whole weekend before I see him again and a part of me almost feels sad.

I don’t feel like diving into the ‘why’ that is. 

“I’m assuming by the lack of text messages and urgent calls that you’ve been behaving?” His lips quirk up at my instigation and he gives me a playful shrug.

“If behaving means no suicidal or homicidal thoughts than yeah, sure.” I can’t fight the eye roll that passes across my expression but his smile turns sheepish as if he was trying to be genuinely honest. I fight the urge to ask about both topics mentioned- homicide and suicide- wondering if there’s actually any weight to them or if he’s just messing around. Both are equally concerning. 

“You can text or call if you feel like you need to talk about something, ya know.” I offer gently but he starts nodding sternly before I can even finish my sentence.

“I know. You said that.” 

“I know- I’m not trying to press…” My hands raise in simple surrender, backing off immediately before he cuts me and this meeting short. “But, you’re here for a reason. I get it’s mandatory but like you said, if you really hated me- hated this- you wouldn’t be here.” He ponders for a second, lips turned down in a playful frown.

“Gives me something to do other than ace tests and apparently be a so-called ‘man-whore’.”

“So you are a man whore? God, I’ve been dying to know if that’s true or not.” I tease, cupping my cheeks in my hands as I lean towards him, watching mischief flicker through his eyes. “Do you need the safe sex speech?” I gasp, holding a hand to my chest in feigned shock, like I needed any confirmation that Rafe could get around if he actually wanted to.

I mean, look at him. 

“Oh my god- this is painful. How much time do we have left?” He pleads and his brows knit together in pure disgust, his voice scary close to a whine.

“I’m messing with you. I know you’re not getting around- the faculty gossip more than the students.” His eyes widen at my implication that he’s being talked about behind his back and he scoots to the edge of the couch eagerly.

“What have you heard about me?” He asks out of pure amusement, eyes glimmering in the light of the lava lamp.

“Depends on what I’ve chosen to believe.” I shrug, folding my hands in my lap as I think of the very few nice things I’ve heard actually come out of my coworkers mouths. “Before I met you, I heard the words ‘neanderthal’ and ‘Juvenile delinquent’ but everyone raved about your grades.” 

“And now?” He quizzes, hair falling in his eyes as his head tilts dumbly.

“I don’t particularly believe the ‘neanderthal’ part- maybe the delinquent part- but the good grades, charming, way too smart for your own good.” The wink I throw him has him almost giggling, his chest rumbling and shoulders shaking in bashful laughter. “Handsome.” The word leaves my mouth as a sort of intrusive thought- literal word vomit- and my lips part in quiet shock as he gives me a similar, stunned look. His cheeks redden almost immediately and all cockiness from him vanished, just left with boyish, bashful, wide eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks, voice cracking pitifully.

“No, because that would be inappropriate and obviously I do everything by the books here. I’m only speaking on behalf of my colleagues.” I clear my throat, giving him a half-assed nod but he sees right through it. 

“Anything else you’ve- I mean, your fellow colleagues have said about me?” He asks, shit-eating grin evident once more and it only makes flames ignite in my belly.

“You have an issue with authority and apparently talking to older women.” I snap with a smirk and he scoffs, eyes rolling and he claps his hands.

“Alright, I don’t like you anymore.” He juts his finger my way, clicking his tongue with a tired look.

“Awe you’re in denial- that’s cute, really Rafe.” I whisper, reaching out to rest my hand on his knee- feigning support- his whole body aflame beneath my touch. He looks at me and my hand, back and forth, with wide, frantic eyes but he’s not nervous or awkward- no, there’s something far deeper to the way his pupils dilate, tongue sweeping out helplessly over his cracked lips. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, dragging his fingers across his jaw as I slowly retract my hand from him. His body deflates as soon as my touch leaves him, his head hanging back against the couch shamelessly. 

“Time’s up buddy.” His eyes flicker up to the clock and an almost disappointed smile spreads across his lips, brows furrowing as he reaches down to check his own phone with a frown. 

“Really?” He asks, more to himself but stands nonetheless, soothing his hands over his thighs. I stand too, following closely behind him as he stops in front of the door, waving his phone in the air. “Can I, uh, text you?” He asks bashfully and a wide smile spreads across my lips.

“I said you could.” 

“I know- I just mean…” He trails off, eyes fluttering to the ground briefly.  “Like, off the record.” My stomach flips at his words, not knowing what he actually intended to get across but based on the look in his eyes alone, I know he literally means off the record conversations.

“There’s no record, Rafe, and we’ve already leveled about the fact that I live alone with my cats. My life after work is not glamorous.” I giggle, reaching past him to open the door and he looks out into the hallway with a heavy sigh.

“Alright.” He nods, hand raising to send me a simple wave and a smile. “See ya, Y/n.” 

——

Unknown Number: I thought of another question. 

My eyes widen as I stare down at the text, shocked that Rafe actually meant it when he said he was going to text me, my mouth drying at the confirmation that he does want to talk to me, just not about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about. But at least he’s talking now. A win is a win right? 

Alright, shoot. I type back, thumbs shaking against the bright screen as I add him as a contact, my cats purring beside me as I flip over to the other side of the bed, curling into a ball as I watch the three bubbles appear at the bottom of my screen.

Rafe: Are you typically this chill with other students?

“What should I say, Winston?” I ask, showing my cat the text as he sniffles, looking between me and the bright screen, eyes squinting in discomfort. “Should I tell him that I find him incredibly attractive? So much that it makes it very hard to do my job?” Winston just looks away from me with a quiet meow, tucking his head under my hand that holds my phone.  “They told me I need to connect with students on a personal level- to use my age as a tool to connect and develop interpersonal relationships- to get people to trust me.” I snort, typing the first response that comes to me before I type something that I could possibly regret.

Not really. I could just tell that I wasn’t going to get you to open up if I acted my role. My answer isn’t necessarily a lie, but there’s something about him- though cocky and sometimes unbearable- that just makes it so easy to be myself. He’s done such shit in his life so maybe he’s just not that judgemental cuz he’s done worse, but there’s just something open about him, even if it might be unintentional. 

Rafe: Cuz I have an issue with authority?And older women apparently. 

My cats jump as I laugh out loud, cheeks warming as I press my face into my pillow momentarily, hating the smile that spreads across my lips. I feel like a middle schooler who’s finally getting attention from a cute guy, blood pumping and mind running with thoughts.

Yeah, I wanted to make it easier on you- more comfortable. 

Rafe: That’s kind of nice. 

Well, I’m a nice person. “Duh, Rafe. I’m a nice person.” I whisper to myself while typing.

Rafe: I can think of twelve things you said to me today that were the opposite of nice.

It’s as if he knew what I was going to say because the minute I send my text, his text comes flying back in return. He’s not wrong- I did mess with him all day, and the thought of me teasing him so much forces a proud grin on my lips as I type. 

I figured it out pretty quickly that you deflect with humor. I happen to be remarkably funny. 

Rafe: Got me figured out, huh?

He has no clue how much I’ve already figured out about him just from the fact that he keeps deflecting and avoiding talks about his family. I can assume his younger sister is the only family member he hasn’t had a negative encounter with and looking at his academics versus his social life, it almost seems as if he doesn’t actually want to be here, like it wasn’t his decision but he has to maintain the grades but not the image. That maybe his outbursts, like keying his professor’s car, was a last ditch effort to get out, not stay.

You could say that. Men are pretty easy. I respond simply, knowing it’ll get a ride out of him.

Rafe: First you call me a man whore and now I’m ‘easy’?

You had the chance to ask me questions and you didn’t. 

Rafe: I did, they were just stupid. I couldn’t really think of anything. I was too preoccupied.

With? I bite at the excess skin on my nail as I wait for his reply, tearing my eyes away from the phone for a moment to look down at my cats who both stare at me, probably wondering how I’ve managed to stay awake this long. If only they knew and could fathom ‘a crush’.

Rafe: Well you called me handsome and I think that’s the last thing I remember.

Oh shit, I did, didn’t I? I pause, actually considering the fact that my comment actually stuck with him enough to take him off guard. It’s common knowledge that Rafe is a good looking guy, tall, built, kind eyes and a silver tongue. I’d have to be blind or dead to not see him.

You’re all talk. I type, biting at my nail as the dots appear and disappear, Rafe choosing his answer wisely. It makes me laugh to think of him in a similar position as me, laying in bed, typing back a reply with a blush on his cheeks- or maybe I shouldn’t think about him in bed?

Rafe: I’m not, you’re just all by the books.

Am I? I know that I’ve joked about being by the books and dying on the hill that I’m such a rule follower, but if I was seriously a stereotypical counselor for him, I would think that I wouldn’t enjoy conversations with him so much- so much that I stay up way past midnight just to continue a vaguely flirty conversation with him.

Har. Har. Doesn’t seem like you’re having an issue talking to older women now. 

Rafe: Cuz you’re not here staring at me and judging me.

The thought of him finding me as intimidating as I find him is exhilarating, the air in my lungs seemingly evaporating as I gasp in a breath.

Rafe: Writing shit down in that passive aggressive notebook. What have you even written in there?

You don’t wanna know. I giggle, picturing the dopey, confused look on his face, a kind smirk. In person, he would pry and stare at me until I break, taking advantage of my weariness when it comes to him. But right now, so far away from him, I don’t let up, continuing the torment and teasing that he subjects me to during the day.

Rafe: Is it just a bunch of ‘Mrs. Cameron’s’ written over and over again?

“Rafe, what the fuck!” I yell out, sitting straight up in bed as I hear the neighbor bang on the wall behind me, chastising me for my shouting. I slap a hand over my mouth, typing back a shaky response. 

Asshole. Go to bed. I’m not actively trying to get rid of him, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to see where this conversation would go if I did indulge him and give him a taste of his own medicine. He’s a tease but he’s an intelligent tease; he knows how to rile a person up, maybe from experience or maybe it’s just his personality. Either way, it works too well.

Rafe: You’re no fun :(

I am, it’s just above your pay grade. I don’t even know what I’m implying with this whole ‘paygrade’ joke, maybe I’m implying that there’s more under my surface that goes beyond a flirty college counselor. Maybe I want him to see under the surface and I instigate because I know he likes the chance and the taunting. Maybe it’s just fun to get him going.

Rafe: Again with the fucking pay grade. How do I get promoted?

Why do you want to be promoted? What do you get out of it? My stomach drops, my heart pounding in my throat as my fingers type against the screen, the typos only a testament to how nervous he makes me. 

Rafe: Tell me how to get into that head of yours and maybe I’ll let you know why I care so much.

I screech out loud once more, reaching out to comfort Winston and my other orange tabby Clementine with a quiet apology for continuing to wake them up repeatedly. Forgetting my mission, my head snaps back to the clinical benefits from this conversation, needing him to finally open up to me about his own problems if we’re going to get anywhere. He needs the clearance from the school, I need the praise from my boss, and- the most important- he needs to heal from whatever’s eating him up inside. 

I’d tell him anything if it meant that I could help him.

Tell me where your anger issues stem from and why you won’t talk about your family or hometown. I press send before I can contemplate it, worrying that the interjection into our playful conversation might make him mad because it’s typically his response to me prying into his personal life. But instead, he surprises me.

Rafe: I’ll think about it.

It’s not what I was expecting at all but I’ll take any progress that I can get. A month ago, he’d threaten to leave the room if I tried to bribe information out of him but now he seems willing. Maybe he thinks that if he tells me things, that I’ll open up. But if that’s the case, then we’re playing the same game and it looks like both of us are going to ultimately get what we want from each other. In more ways than one apparently.

Rafe: So you hang out with your cats and you go to work at the campus. Is that all you do?

If I give him the answer I want to reply with, he’ll know where to find me outside of school. He’d have the opportunity to see me outside of our sessions, to talk to me literally off the record and have the freedom to say or do whatever he’d like. To weigh the odds of a pros and cons list would take too long so my fingers type quickly enough to not give my brain a second to think or argue.

No, I work as a bartender too at a bar on Grant. Again, the bubbles on the bottom of the screen appear and disappear, Rafe obviously deciding carefully on what to say. I know that he’ll take advantage of it, even if I ask him not to but maybe it’ll be what he needs- to see me in a scenario where he doesn’t have to talk to me. Maybe it’ll happen naturally on its own if he chooses to interact with me, to talk or open up.

Rafe: Oh, that’s kind of badass.

A girly grin takes over my face, Clementine’s quiet meows spooking me out of my giddy mood, her paws digging into my boobs as she flops down on my chest. I let out a quiet ‘oof’ and she looks at the bright screen of my phone, meowing once more as another message comes through.

Rafe: I know you’ll ask me not to come visit you but I make no promises.

[robotpussy]

dreading going to uni tomorrow

[xamaxenta]

@itsthefandommash aaaangel im so sorry this took me so long i was suckerpunched by the depression this past weekend and i was struggling with literally everything and all basic tasks and its been exhausting and disheartening but i enjoyed the small serotonins in drawing marcoace 🥺❤️ thank you for commissioning me and forcing me to draw two characters together it was rough i definitely need more practice but this is a start

[tamagotchikgs]

dragon age series is so truly so special 2 me i adore it,,,, tha whole world all the lore n the way my brain somehow actually takes it in i understand it n it feels like Home

[werebutch]

My mom getting a new place is kinda making me anxious I think she thinks I’m gonna move in w her instead of my dad 😭 and I’m not sure why I don’t want to. Cuz she’s way better. But I don’t. And I feel responsible I think and plus my sisters will never favor my mom over my dad… so we’d live apart. but I’m 20 years old I can live whatever I want. But. But but but

[thebirdandhersong]

:')

Y'all it has been such a joyful and incredible week but today has just been. So much. Too many emotions too many people and three occasions in which I said something to a large group of people and received blank and distant and in some cases even judgmental stares back (perfectly valid things and questions and it was all to people I love, and i felt smaller and smaller as it happened again and again), not to mention feeling the pressure of being needed by two different friends and being unable to give anything to either due to having no capacity to give anything, and trying to figure out why I don't want to spend time with a childhood friend anymore while she keeps trying to maintain contact (and why her love feels smothering and burdensome, and feeling guilty because of how I feel and how quick I am to try to avoid talking to her), and feeling a great deal of body insecurity again very suddenly, and trying to come to terms with the fact that the boy HAS at least once approached my friend to talk to her, which he rarely does with any other girls, and has admitted to finding her attractive, and in the midst of sudden unexpected anguish wondering if this old pain will always always be with me long after I say goodbye

[aerodaltonimperial]

.

[twinklefantasia]

on one hand wanting them to bring over features from style savvy

on the other hand wanting fashion dreamer to be able to be its own game....

[sprinedankle]

uhh do i come out or did yall already assume im the gayest ... im still figuring it out but ugh this is so scary and though i know lesbian is the term for me i still try to find ways not to label myself like that and that i can actually like men and andbsbsjddhsh i really wish i could like men life would be so easy for me (well not for me, for my family mostly) and i promise it's going to get so hard from now on when the actual realization comes

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[nicolos]

i just ....who am i lying to?

i don't really know what's going on. the truth is that i really am just fine one way or the other - but that my mind going into overdrive means i feel so terribly sensitive over it all. i can't help the way my mind fixates on things, but ...it's so much easier when it's a film, a tv show, an actor, anything that doesn't require response. because currently... i feel awful. i feel so dangerously up and down, and that frightens me. i need to find some kind of equilibrium that doesn't depend on this person or other people in general and i usually have it but not right now

the thing is i'm a cynic when it comes to me and myself. its easy to believe nothing will happen or nothing can happen. hoping is the dangerous bit. i don't want to hope because all that happens when i hope - whenever i want something or expect something or think something might happen - is that i'm disappointed in the end. i don't want to pre-lock myself into that just on the basis of how i feel, but what other option is there? i can't psych myself up, and i don't really have any third route

but i don't want this to be all i can think about. i want to be able to fall asleep at night with this nowhere on my mind. i want to go through the day without 3 thoughts dedicated here - or at least none of this indecision

[iftitah]

this patho teacher who annoys me so much said you don't study right and i literally asked her why did you say that and she said i can tell so i told her you're right ive not been studying lately

[tibbycaps]

.

[tardis--dreams]

I'm so obsessed with that concert that i don't even have enough brain capacity to stress about everything around it