drabbles:
[Lilah. R.]
Lilah is her own damn role model. Lilah killed her boss. As a reward, she'll fuck her enemy's former best friend, and this, my loves, is all in a day's work for the undisputed queen of Wolfram and Hart because, after all, who would dare dispute it?
The killing the boss fantasy was up there with screwing the enemy when she was working her way upwards, and now that she's scraping the glass ceiling, she's no longer jerking off to either, because today, girls, Lilah Morgan is living every dream every ravenous lawyer ever has dreamed.
And she loves it.
[Fred/Willow, chocolate, R.]
"Mmm." She wants to stay in that mmm forever. Always tucked against Fred's stomach, nose resting in a pool of melty chocolate. "Mmm." She sticks her tongue out and steals a taste, and Fred squeals. Her hand on Willow's back stops mid-caress. "Sorry."
"Sure... did you ever do this before?"
"We did it last night, didn't we?"
"I meant, this, with the chocolate."
"Oh. That this. No, never this that -- no." She laughs. "I'm all tangly."
"Me too," says Fred. Willow sighs into her skin. "You think we could do this again tomorrow?"
"Oh, yes."
[Tara/Willow, flying. PG. mid-S6]
Tara dreams of flying to England. Some nights it's places other than England, as near as San Diego and as far away as Portugal. All they have in common is that they're places Willow never was. In England, there are no hallways where they've kissed, no couches where they've cuddled, no video rental places where they've discussed the merits of the horror-action-comedy blend.
The problem with this plan is there's no way to stop remembering. If there aren't places, there will be scents, words, pictures in the clouds that she can't point out to Willow because Willow won't be there.
[Willow + Giles, computer. G.]
"Giles?"
"Willow. I wan't expecting you."
She gives him a small smile. "I have a question."
"Of course."
"Not Buffy-related."
"Ah..."
"It's about college."
"College?"
"Would you write a recommendation for me please Giles?" The words come out as one whoosh of air.
"Er." Giles studies his hands. "Would that entail, er, writing? At the computer?"
Willow nods slowly.
More hand-watching. "I'm sorry, Willow."
"Wh-why?"
"I suspect that, given the circumstances, most admissions committees would prefer a recommendation from someone who knows you... less well... than I do. I would love to, Willow. It just wouldn't seem... appropriate."
[Tara/Trance, dancing. G.]
Tara stays in the medbay after she's pronounced healthy. She prefers the solitude. No one except Trance comes down here, and she's less human, with the tail and the purple, but not threatening.
"Hey, Tara?"
"Yes?"
"I hate to bother you when you're so busy being sad, but I need your help."
"Sure! I mean, a-anything."
"Great! I need to dance right now; could you help?"
"With dancing?"
Trance nods seriously. "It's important that I exercise to keep my body honed for battle. Tyr made me promise I'd remember."
"But why me?"
"Because of all my possibilities, you're the prettiest."
Lilah is her own damn role model. Lilah killed her boss. As a reward, she'll fuck her enemy's former best friend, and this, my loves, is all in a day's work for the undisputed queen of Wolfram and Hart because, after all, who would dare dispute it?
The killing the boss fantasy was up there with screwing the enemy when she was working her way upwards, and now that she's scraping the glass ceiling, she's no longer jerking off to either, because today, girls, Lilah Morgan is living every dream every ravenous lawyer ever has dreamed.
And she loves it.
[Fred/Willow, chocolate, R.]
"Mmm." She wants to stay in that mmm forever. Always tucked against Fred's stomach, nose resting in a pool of melty chocolate. "Mmm." She sticks her tongue out and steals a taste, and Fred squeals. Her hand on Willow's back stops mid-caress. "Sorry."
"Sure... did you ever do this before?"
"We did it last night, didn't we?"
"I meant, this, with the chocolate."
"Oh. That this. No, never this that -- no." She laughs. "I'm all tangly."
"Me too," says Fred. Willow sighs into her skin. "You think we could do this again tomorrow?"
"Oh, yes."
[Tara/Willow, flying. PG. mid-S6]
Tara dreams of flying to England. Some nights it's places other than England, as near as San Diego and as far away as Portugal. All they have in common is that they're places Willow never was. In England, there are no hallways where they've kissed, no couches where they've cuddled, no video rental places where they've discussed the merits of the horror-action-comedy blend.
The problem with this plan is there's no way to stop remembering. If there aren't places, there will be scents, words, pictures in the clouds that she can't point out to Willow because Willow won't be there.
[Willow + Giles, computer. G.]
"Giles?"
"Willow. I wan't expecting you."
She gives him a small smile. "I have a question."
"Of course."
"Not Buffy-related."
"Ah..."
"It's about college."
"College?"
"Would you write a recommendation for me please Giles?" The words come out as one whoosh of air.
"Er." Giles studies his hands. "Would that entail, er, writing? At the computer?"
Willow nods slowly.
More hand-watching. "I'm sorry, Willow."
"Wh-why?"
"I suspect that, given the circumstances, most admissions committees would prefer a recommendation from someone who knows you... less well... than I do. I would love to, Willow. It just wouldn't seem... appropriate."
[Tara/Trance, dancing. G.]
Tara stays in the medbay after she's pronounced healthy. She prefers the solitude. No one except Trance comes down here, and she's less human, with the tail and the purple, but not threatening.
"Hey, Tara?"
"Yes?"
"I hate to bother you when you're so busy being sad, but I need your help."
"Sure! I mean, a-anything."
"Great! I need to dance right now; could you help?"
"With dancing?"
Trance nods seriously. "It's important that I exercise to keep my body honed for battle. Tyr made me promise I'd remember."
"But why me?"
"Because of all my possibilities, you're the prettiest."