"oh no. i think i'm catching feelings"
(this is what i do instead of my very important assignments.
Suggestive near the end, but not descriptive
title from 'sex' by eden)
Freelancer can practically see the steam rushing out of Gavin's ears.
His face is red and his eyes were glaring holes into them. If they didn't know any better, they'd say he was mad at them.
But they saw the way Gavin's lips fought a smile. The corners of them tugging up without his approval, entirely giving away his facade.
They've grown awfully fond of him, and it almost scared them. Almost. No one could really be scared of such beauty, in their humble (and very correct) opinion. And if that didn't convince them, Freelancer would take any and every opportunity explaining how wise, endearing and kind the man in front of them was.
"Are you even listening to me?"
That snapped Freelancer right out of the clouds. They paused for a second, before coming clean.
"Nope. Sorry, handsome."
If Freelancer said Gavin's face managed to get even more red, he would deny it.
"You-" he starts, putting his face in his hands, breathing in and out to calm himself, "I am going to kill you."
If Gavin meant that, he didn't show it. Perhaps one could argue the blushing, smiling and wide eyes filled with adoration were all a ruse to hide his murderous intent. If that was the case, Freelancer had definitely fallen for (him) it.
Unfortunately for Gavin, Freelancer had one last card up their sleeve.
"And what are you going to do, Gavin? Fuck me to death?"
What were they here for again? Magic history tutoring? A movie date? Finishing the leftover pizza and wings they ordered the last time Gavin was over?
It didn't matter anymore, because Gavin was forcing them out of their seat, grabbing their face and kissing them breathless. All while maneuvering the both of them into their bedroom.
When Freelancer took a breath, they were on top of Gavin, legs on either side of his waist, one hand pinning one of his arms down while the other was resting on his chest. They stared at him as they felt his chest falling and rising, his heart beating beneath their touch.
They remembered what that meant, when a demon took the time to form a heart beat with magic. Slowly, they leaned down to kiss his chest, right where a real heart would be if he was human.
They looked up at him, and in their brief eye contact, Freelancer thanked him. For his help with DAMN stuff, for trusting them enough to be this vulnerable with his emotions.
For being in their life.
If Freelancer was asked if they started to cry in that moment, hiding it from Gavin by meeting his lips with their own again, they'd say it was drool.
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I hate being in a senior-ish year (I'm part time so it's weird) of a somewhat rigorous program while I am basically in health/mental health crisis.
I need a social worker to help me way more than I need to BE a social worker, but I dare not tell my professors that because they already ride the line of ableism on a regular basis when I express my major limits at the moment.
I've taken too many breaks from school over the years, I just want to finish so badly. But I don't understand why my extremely serious crisis is not being taken seriously nor are my less serious anxieties and concerns. I feel like I'm getting the subliminal message of, "well, now that you're close to graduating, we're going to be harder on you because the Real World is harder." and also, "if you can't handle this, maybe you're just too disabled for higher education."
which is bullshit. anyone who wants to pursue higher education should be accommodated, full stop.
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