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These are the ficlets I've written so far for
cadence_k's femslash drabblethon.
title: Popular
author: Carla
disclaimer: They belong to Joss, yeah, yeah, yeah.
distribution: Please ask.
rating: 13+
summary: Joyce doesn't know what to do with Buffy, but she sure understands Faith.
Sometimes Joyce doesn’t know what to do with Buffy.
It isn’t because she’s the Vampire Slayer, though there are difficulties with wrapping her mind around that, too, but she has always been a little confused, a little thrown off balance by Buffy.
When Joyce was in high school, and junior high, and elementary, she wasn’t popular. She wasn’t the golden child who smiled and laughed and wrapped people around her finger. Buffy made friends with everyone she met, even before she could walk, when strangers would stop to exclaim over her dimples or her blonde hair or her big grins, and she would giggle and coo, and later tell them sweet stories about her day.
Joyce didn’t understand how Buffy could be so approachable, but she was proud of her, thrilled by all the attention her baby girl received.
When Buffy became a cheerleader, and pranced around the house in her short skirts, waving pompoms in her father’s face, he wanted to hear her cheers and listened to her stories, and barely said a word to Joyce.
She felt awkward again then, like she still wore the wrong clothes, listened to the wrong music, and didn’t do anything right. She promised herself she wasn’t jealous of Buffy’s beauty and Buffy’s popularity and the way Buffy caught everyone’s eye when she bounced into the room.
Joyce does know Buffy isn’t all those things anymore, but she’s even more important now, she saves the world every night. It’s hard to believe there are vampires and demons, but it’s not difficult at all to understand everyone sees their salvation in her beautiful child.
She remembers what it’s like to not measure up, to feel unimportant and unloved, and she sees that in Faith when Faith looks at Buffy. It’s only noticeable once in awhile, most of the time Faith’s expressions are guarded and careful, but on the rare moments Joyce watches her crack, she wants to pull Faith to her, hug her tight, tell her she’s special too. Faith would be tense and would try to tug away, but really want it all the time, and the kisses, and just being there, with someone else who feels the same way.
She doesn’t want another daughter, she’s perfectly happy with Buffy, and proud, oh so proud, but she knows Faith, knows those feelings, that desperation to be accepted, the way the whole world can look so shiny and sparkly for everyone but you.
Joyce doesn’t always know what to do with Buffy, but despite the years between them and the differences, she knows exactly what she wants to do with Faith.
title: no sleep tonight
author: Carla
disclaimer: Joss's, of course.
distribution: Please ask.
rating: 13+
summary: Faith's a little broken, and a little horny.
God damn but that was hot.
Faith hadn’t even known Willow liked to paint until she was stuck at the house with a broken wrist while everyone else was out training or working or traveling the world looking for more little Slayers to recruit for their Slayer army.
Sure, she healed fast, but not quite as fast anymore. It was like the world only had so much super special Slayer skill to go around, and though everyone had an edge, they were all a little weaker. Well, she and B were weaker, the others were a hell of a lot stronger, but not as strong as they would have been as solo Slayers.
So a broken bone meant a couple of days laid up with no action. She’d fucked up her right arm, too, her dominant arm, so not even getting herself off was as fun as long as she was injured. She could still do it, sure, her wrist just cramped up a little and the position was awkward.
Their house was big, new Watcher’s headquarters and all, at least until Dawn won over Giles and convinced him to move things back to England, but it was boring. B wasn’t even in the country, she was off in Italy somewhere, so Faith couldn’t even look forward to a good old-fashioned bitch fest later.
Only one around was Willow, in the backyard. The sun was almost set, and everything was orange and yellow and blue-gray shadows creeping in to blur the edges of the world. She was in a lawn chair, legs crossed, and held a small canvas in her lap. She faced the back of the house, so the sun set behind her, and Faith couldn’t see what she was doing, only the way she sucked on the end of her paintbrush before dipping it in a dark blue and sliding it along the top of the page.
There was a smudge of green on Willow’s cheek, a little purple on her collar bone, and the white tank top is splattered with lots of colors. Willow’s legs were tanned and smooth beneath her shorts, not as muscled as Faith liked, but there was just something about her, something a little hazy and pretty.
Willow canted her head to the left, swirled more paint onto the canvas, and made a small, pleased sound in the back of her throat.
Something hot, too, and Faith wanted to get closer.
She held her arm at her side, purposefully at an angle which looked twisted and uncomfortable. Sympathy got her farther sometimes, and she was pretty sure it would work well with Willow.
“Can I see?” she asked and bent forward over Willow’s lap before she responded, looking upside down at the painting. Her shirt fell forward a little, and it was already cut low in the chest, so the swell of her breasts were visible and looking damn good. “That’s really—”
Well it was really shit, actually. Willow wasn’t very good, and it was more kindergarten stick figure than Picasso. Faith put her left hand on the arm of the chair, holding her weight while she cast around for something good to say, something she could manipulate into a little sex.
Willow arched her eyebrows and grinned.
“Yeah, I know, it’s bad,” she said, and Faith hoped that was just a witch thing, reading her mind, and not her giving away her thoughts in her expression. She’d worked hard for her good poker face. “It helps me relax though.”
“I know all about relaxing,” Faith said, and leaned farther in. “It’s good, leaves you all pliant and pleased.”
“Something like that.” Willow curled her fingers around the edges of the canvas, and didn’t seem to notice, or care, she smeared the paint. “Gives me something to do while everyone’s gone. I thought you were asleep.”
“I don’t nap,” Faith said, and looked offended. It worked, Willow laughed, tilted her head back and showed of the line of her throat. That was it, no more small talk.
Faith leaned in, pressed her mouth to Willow’s, lowered one knee to the chair so the inside of her thigh rubbed against Willow’s skin. Willow pressed her fingers to the side of Faith’s neck, and they were tacky with paint.
“I’m all broken,” Faith muttered against Willow’s mouth, and kissed her way across Willow’s cheek to her throat. She lifted her right elbow, a little painful and difficult, but Willow murmured something soothing. “Think you can help me? I need an extra hand.”
Willow’s hands slipped up to the back of Faith’s neck, smeared paint into her hair, but Faith didn’t mind a little mess. She kissed Willow again, slipped her tongue inside, and rucked up Willow’s shirt with her free hand until she could touch bare skin.
Willow pulled back, gulped for air, and then laughed again. “Yeah,” she said, tossed the canvas aside, and pushed on Faith’s shoulders until she backed up enough to give Willow room to stand. “Yeah, I think I can help.”
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title: Popular
author: Carla
disclaimer: They belong to Joss, yeah, yeah, yeah.
distribution: Please ask.
rating: 13+
summary: Joyce doesn't know what to do with Buffy, but she sure understands Faith.
Sometimes Joyce doesn’t know what to do with Buffy.
It isn’t because she’s the Vampire Slayer, though there are difficulties with wrapping her mind around that, too, but she has always been a little confused, a little thrown off balance by Buffy.
When Joyce was in high school, and junior high, and elementary, she wasn’t popular. She wasn’t the golden child who smiled and laughed and wrapped people around her finger. Buffy made friends with everyone she met, even before she could walk, when strangers would stop to exclaim over her dimples or her blonde hair or her big grins, and she would giggle and coo, and later tell them sweet stories about her day.
Joyce didn’t understand how Buffy could be so approachable, but she was proud of her, thrilled by all the attention her baby girl received.
When Buffy became a cheerleader, and pranced around the house in her short skirts, waving pompoms in her father’s face, he wanted to hear her cheers and listened to her stories, and barely said a word to Joyce.
She felt awkward again then, like she still wore the wrong clothes, listened to the wrong music, and didn’t do anything right. She promised herself she wasn’t jealous of Buffy’s beauty and Buffy’s popularity and the way Buffy caught everyone’s eye when she bounced into the room.
Joyce does know Buffy isn’t all those things anymore, but she’s even more important now, she saves the world every night. It’s hard to believe there are vampires and demons, but it’s not difficult at all to understand everyone sees their salvation in her beautiful child.
She remembers what it’s like to not measure up, to feel unimportant and unloved, and she sees that in Faith when Faith looks at Buffy. It’s only noticeable once in awhile, most of the time Faith’s expressions are guarded and careful, but on the rare moments Joyce watches her crack, she wants to pull Faith to her, hug her tight, tell her she’s special too. Faith would be tense and would try to tug away, but really want it all the time, and the kisses, and just being there, with someone else who feels the same way.
She doesn’t want another daughter, she’s perfectly happy with Buffy, and proud, oh so proud, but she knows Faith, knows those feelings, that desperation to be accepted, the way the whole world can look so shiny and sparkly for everyone but you.
Joyce doesn’t always know what to do with Buffy, but despite the years between them and the differences, she knows exactly what she wants to do with Faith.
title: no sleep tonight
author: Carla
disclaimer: Joss's, of course.
distribution: Please ask.
rating: 13+
summary: Faith's a little broken, and a little horny.
God damn but that was hot.
Faith hadn’t even known Willow liked to paint until she was stuck at the house with a broken wrist while everyone else was out training or working or traveling the world looking for more little Slayers to recruit for their Slayer army.
Sure, she healed fast, but not quite as fast anymore. It was like the world only had so much super special Slayer skill to go around, and though everyone had an edge, they were all a little weaker. Well, she and B were weaker, the others were a hell of a lot stronger, but not as strong as they would have been as solo Slayers.
So a broken bone meant a couple of days laid up with no action. She’d fucked up her right arm, too, her dominant arm, so not even getting herself off was as fun as long as she was injured. She could still do it, sure, her wrist just cramped up a little and the position was awkward.
Their house was big, new Watcher’s headquarters and all, at least until Dawn won over Giles and convinced him to move things back to England, but it was boring. B wasn’t even in the country, she was off in Italy somewhere, so Faith couldn’t even look forward to a good old-fashioned bitch fest later.
Only one around was Willow, in the backyard. The sun was almost set, and everything was orange and yellow and blue-gray shadows creeping in to blur the edges of the world. She was in a lawn chair, legs crossed, and held a small canvas in her lap. She faced the back of the house, so the sun set behind her, and Faith couldn’t see what she was doing, only the way she sucked on the end of her paintbrush before dipping it in a dark blue and sliding it along the top of the page.
There was a smudge of green on Willow’s cheek, a little purple on her collar bone, and the white tank top is splattered with lots of colors. Willow’s legs were tanned and smooth beneath her shorts, not as muscled as Faith liked, but there was just something about her, something a little hazy and pretty.
Willow canted her head to the left, swirled more paint onto the canvas, and made a small, pleased sound in the back of her throat.
Something hot, too, and Faith wanted to get closer.
She held her arm at her side, purposefully at an angle which looked twisted and uncomfortable. Sympathy got her farther sometimes, and she was pretty sure it would work well with Willow.
“Can I see?” she asked and bent forward over Willow’s lap before she responded, looking upside down at the painting. Her shirt fell forward a little, and it was already cut low in the chest, so the swell of her breasts were visible and looking damn good. “That’s really—”
Well it was really shit, actually. Willow wasn’t very good, and it was more kindergarten stick figure than Picasso. Faith put her left hand on the arm of the chair, holding her weight while she cast around for something good to say, something she could manipulate into a little sex.
Willow arched her eyebrows and grinned.
“Yeah, I know, it’s bad,” she said, and Faith hoped that was just a witch thing, reading her mind, and not her giving away her thoughts in her expression. She’d worked hard for her good poker face. “It helps me relax though.”
“I know all about relaxing,” Faith said, and leaned farther in. “It’s good, leaves you all pliant and pleased.”
“Something like that.” Willow curled her fingers around the edges of the canvas, and didn’t seem to notice, or care, she smeared the paint. “Gives me something to do while everyone’s gone. I thought you were asleep.”
“I don’t nap,” Faith said, and looked offended. It worked, Willow laughed, tilted her head back and showed of the line of her throat. That was it, no more small talk.
Faith leaned in, pressed her mouth to Willow’s, lowered one knee to the chair so the inside of her thigh rubbed against Willow’s skin. Willow pressed her fingers to the side of Faith’s neck, and they were tacky with paint.
“I’m all broken,” Faith muttered against Willow’s mouth, and kissed her way across Willow’s cheek to her throat. She lifted her right elbow, a little painful and difficult, but Willow murmured something soothing. “Think you can help me? I need an extra hand.”
Willow’s hands slipped up to the back of Faith’s neck, smeared paint into her hair, but Faith didn’t mind a little mess. She kissed Willow again, slipped her tongue inside, and rucked up Willow’s shirt with her free hand until she could touch bare skin.
Willow pulled back, gulped for air, and then laughed again. “Yeah,” she said, tossed the canvas aside, and pushed on Faith’s shoulders until she backed up enough to give Willow room to stand. “Yeah, I think I can help.”
no subject
Date: 2006-02-13 07:07 am (UTC)Joyce doesn’t always know what to do with Buffy, but despite the years between them and the differences, she knows exactly what she wants to do with Faith. I love it! I'm so glad you participated in the femslash drabblethon. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-17 07:17 pm (UTC)That's really well-written, very hot, and you NAILED Faith there, I think.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-03 04:08 pm (UTC)I think I want to write Willow/Faith again, this was a lot of fun, but I wouldn't have thought of it without the prompt.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-02 08:21 am (UTC)And Faith/Willow! Hot! And ending entirely too soon!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-03 04:11 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you like them! The Joyce and Faith one surprised the hell out of me even when I was writing it, I had never thought of that dynamic, but it just seems to fit and now I can't stop thinking about it, and Joyce as Buffy's mom.
And the Faith/Willow, I think I'm going to have to write more, because I love them together. (Who am I kidding, I love Faith with anyone. I'm easy.)
Thank you for the compliments, you really made my day!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-05 05:33 pm (UTC)Of course you are - it was one of the first foundations of our friendship *g*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 07:48 pm (UTC)