#focused and yearning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andthesunwillalwaysshine · 3 months

Text

FUCK IF THE TOUCHED SPEECH MADE MY HEART COMBUST THEN WHAT DID THE END OF DAYS ONE DO ???? such a perfect whole scene with the comedic greeting to the awkwardness to buffy basically calling him an idiot in 3 different ways (and using one of his made up words back at him) and then actually being real with spike and telling him their moment wasn’t just nothing but meaningful to her to spike telling her it was the best night of his life (twice he says this) and how he finally felt close to someone (and to her) and he is terrified (because he has loved her for so long and is used to it going nowhere and doesn’t want to push her after what he did) to buffy reassuring him he doesn’t have to be terrified to them actually starting the first real convo about THEM

this scene is full of love but it rips my heart out and it is so angsty still because with the big battle incoming neither one of them knows who will end up alive after this (if they win) and if they will be both be alive after this AND BUFFY’S FACE IN THE END (AND WHILE LISTENING TO SPIKE AND HER SOFT ’’SPIKE’’ WHEN SPIKE SAYS HE CAN’T DO THIS BEFORE OPENING UP TO HER)

#and i feel like if s8 happened they could have had an even bigger conversation #because the timing of thinking it through and really listening to your heart isn’t in the midst of everything else going on #like war is coming and buffy needs to stay slayer focused #in a way i love how with these convos and the cuddling we actually get to see a softer side of spuffy because it what i always wanted while #like i don’t mind how they started and i think it suits perfectly w the enemies to lovers trope #but i always yearned to see a more softer side to them #delusional me really thought we would get it after anya and spike hooked up and buffy would realize her feelings #…. sigh #ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE MUSIC USED DURING THIS SCENE #IT IS FINE I AM FINE #i won’t talk about what happens next in this episode #because it is not real #it is not canon to me nor should be to anyone whose watched this season #funny how ali is in two shows where the writers gave a middle finger to the viewers :)#mine #buffy #spuffy

44 notes · View notes

workingforitallthetime · 1 year

Text

well this sure is 1.5K of f/f gavin/seamus, isn't it

“That girl was flirting with you.” Gavin flops backwards onto her bed.

“Who?” Seamus is at the mirror scrubbing a wipe along the line of her eyelid. She folds the cloth over, looking for a clean spot between streaks of the eyeshadow that made her eyes look even bigger and darker and sadder than usual.

“The lacrosse one.” Long blonde hair, longer legs. Taller than Seamus. Or Gavin.

“She wasn’t flirting with me.” Seamus tosses her makeup wipe toward the trash can. “She’s one of the ones who saran-wrapped Kienan’s moped.”

“She held your hair back at the water fountain.” In the dorm lobby, completely unprompted, as everyone filtered in from a Saturday of parties and meandered their way toward the elevators. “She was absolutely flirting with you.”

Seamus squirts toner onto a cotton pad. “You’ve held my hair back.”

“While you were puking,” Gavin protests.

Seamus gestures like Gavin’s just proved her point, but it’s not the same thing. Holding your friend’s hair back while they puke is just helping. Holding Seamus’s hair back at the water fountain — gathering up all those thick dark curls, letting your fingers brush the back of her neck— that’s flirting. Which is why Gavin’s never tried that with Seamus.

Seamus leans into the mirror, carefully blotting her face. “Just because every girl flirts with you doesn’t mean they’re flirting with me.”

Gavin doesn’t even try to argue the first half of the point. But even if Seamus doesn’t have Gavin’s brand of adorable butch magic, the kind that beguiles queers and converts straight girls, plenty of girls ought to be into the busty Irish barmaid vibe that Seamus has going. “Doesn’t mean they’re not, either.”

Seamus makes a skeptical noise and shakes a nearly empty tube of something over her palm, trying to expel the contents.

Gavin’s suddenly conscious of her own nighttime routine: considerably easier, and already completed. Teeth brushed, sports bra tossed over her chair, jeans and crop top replaced with boxers and an old t-shirt. Done.

She repositions her pillow behind her head. “Would you ever?” she asks Seamus, while Seamus is distracted with the sad empty wheeze of whatever skin care product she’s after.

Somehow it’s never occurred to her to ask. Gavin always figured Seamus would tell her if she ever had anything to say. Gavin hadn’t had any hesitation about telling Seamus, pugnaciously spitting out I’m gay while they were stickhandling in Seamus’s driveway six years ago, using Seamus’s momentary confusion to swat the puck out from under her.

Seamus suddenly gives up on the tube in her hand, tossing it into the garbage can with a clunk. She rummages through her basket and comes up with dental floss instead. “Yeaaaaah…” The syllable draws out uncertainly as Seamus pulls a length of floss out of its case. She doesn’t sound unsure about the answer. She sounds more unsure about sharing it with Gavin. “I never have.” She leans in close to the mirror and works the floss between her molars with precise movements. “I don’t think I’d know how.”

“It’s easy,” Gavin scoffs. “You’ve kissed guys, you can kiss a girl.” Although Gavin’s not 100 percent sure how far Seamus has gone with guys, even. Seamus never told her about anyone in the picture while she was at the program. And from what Gavin’s seen this year, guys don’t really seem to… stick. They’ll be around for a few weeks — a study partner, a coffee date, a string of notifs superimposed over Seamus’s lockscreen photo of her and Gavin at U18 worlds — and then gone without explanation. Seamus never looks too upset. Gavin never asks.

Seamus flicks the used floss into the trash can and turns to face Gavin. “It seems pretty different.”

Gavin can’t remember whether the Team USA shirt Seamus is wearing is hers or Gavin’s. Same with the faded Florida Alliance t-shirt Gavin’s wearing. Now that they share a dorm room it’s pretty much stopped mattering. Seamus keeps sneaking her laundry into Gavin’s basket and Gavin keeps letting her get away with it. “I could teach you.”

Seamus looks away so quickly it’s almost a flinch. “You would?”

“Yeah, sure.” It’s not like Seamus would be the first straight girl who’s learned the ropes from Gavin. It feels a little more… high stakes, maybe… with Seamus, but why should it? What good is a gay best friend if she can’t teach you how to hook up with a girl? Gavin can do a little gay mentoring, equip Seamus to kiss whoever she wants. Anybody at all. Just… like, hopefully not anybody from the lacrosse team. Or anybody else tall and blonde. Gavin swings her feet over the edge of the bed and sits up. “C’mere.”

“Like now?” Seamus shifts her weight uncertainly from one bare foot to the other under the hems of her pajama pants.

Gavin pats the mattress next to her. “Yeah, now.”

“Can we at least…” Seamus goes for the light switch without finishing her question. Gavin lets her. As Seamus’s feet whisper across the floor in the darkened room, she wonders what Seamus doesn’t want her to see.

Her eyes adjust as Seamus perches on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her so she can face Gavin. It feels familiar. They could be eight years old, in Gavin’s bedroom in Florida, crunching wintergreen lifesavers to watch the sparks. They could be fifteen, in a hotel room at a minor hockey tournament, Seamus trying to draw lip liner on Gavin for the awards banquet. Eighteen’s not so different. It’s not so different to see Seamus’s face, bare and vulnerable, when she closes her eyes as Gavin leans in to kiss her.

Gavin’s ready to show off a little, but isn’t she always. She tucks a finger under Seamus’s chin and tilts her face upward into Gavin’s best entry-level kiss, warm and slow and searching, the kind that usually makes straight girls forget they came to the party hoping to blow Adam or Rutger.

It doesn’t quite work on Seamus. Her lips are soft, but she’s so tense Gavin can feel her grinding her teeth.

Gavin pulls back. “Relax.”

Seamus sucks in a deep breath like she’s been putting it off while Gavin was kissing her. “Sorry.” She covers her mouth with the back of her hand. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh yes I do,” Gavin says, murderously. Now she’s determined. She’s going to win the… well, whatever it is, she’s going to win it. She’s going to get Seamus started off right on whatever fucking journey she’s headed on. She grips Seamus’s shoulder loosely and gives her a little shake. “Just, like, breathe, okay?”

Seamus nods quickly. “Okay.”

Something about the smallness of her voice burrows underneath Gavin’s bravado. She takes Seamus’s face between her hands, and it’s like she’s holding all of it, all thirteen years of shared history twined together like a French braid, cradled in her palms. “Okay,” Gavin echoes, softer, and brings their lips together.

She doesn’t bother taking it easy this time. Just goes in mean and hungry, but that’s nothing Seamus doesn’t already know about her. Seamus finally relaxes, mouth falling open soft and easy, when Gavin catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Maybe because it’s exactly what she’d expect from Gavin.

Gavin lets one hand drift down the line of Seamus’s neck and trail along her collarbone. She traces a fingertip over Seamus’s shoulder along the line of her bra strap, just a little tease to build on when Gavin decides where she wants to take this.

Seamus leans into the kiss. Gavin can feel the catch in her breath, the yearning angle of her head as she follows Gavin’s mouth. But as Gavin’s hands wander, Seamus’s hands sit uselessly in her lap. “Touch me,” Gavin murmurs against Seamus’s lips, punctuating it with a stinging kiss.

After a breath, Seamus carefully settles one hand at Gavin’s side, just above the waistband of her boxers. Gavin twines a hand in Seamus’s hair—god, all that hair, thick and dark and cloaking a pocket of pure heat against Seamus’s neck—so she can hold Seamus in place, lick deeper inside of her. Her skin feels raw, hypersensitive, anticipating Seamus’s touch.

Seamus’s hand stays tentatively at her waist. More like she’s steadying herself than touching Gavin.

Gavin breaks off the kiss. “Okay…”

Seamus immediately drops her hand, as if they’re all done here.

“Hold on.” Gavin crosses her arms and strips her t-shirt over her head in one seamless motion. Her nipples tighten with the sudden coolness, the awareness of exposure. “You have to actually touch me.” She tries to level Seamus with a challenging stare.

It misses the mark. Seamus’s eyes are elsewhere, looking at Gavin’s tits like she’s never seen them before. Gavin can’t quite read her expression in the dark. Maybe cautious. Maybe hungry.

She cups Seamus’s hand in her own and lifts it to her breast. “Here.” Gavin waits a moment before withdrawing her own hand, wondering if Seamus can feel her heartbeat quickening. Seamus looks up at her, eyes so dark that Gavin might drown in them. She doesn’t pull away when Gavin releases her, shifting her hand instead so that Gavin’s breast fits in the curve of her palm.

“Oh.” Seamus barely breathes it. She brushes her thumb over the tip of Gavin’s nipple, feather-light.

Heat ripples out from the touch and pools in Gavin’s belly. She closes her eyes and arches into Seamus’s hand. “Yeah, there.”

#and then i remembered i should be focusing my smut energy on my WIP #instead of allowing my brain to cough wlw yearning directly into my notes app

37 notes · View notes