I post fic! Crackfic!
Jul. 11th, 2006 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lunabee34You guys have done such a good job of cheering me up. In fact, I feel so much better that I wrote really, really silly fic. It's not beta'd cause it's so ridiculous, I don't want Kitty to disown me. *g*
Just shy of 300 words, Buffy/Anya, utter silliness
"My bachelorette party is lame. There should be well-hung and oily men rubbing their crotches on my face in exchange for your dollar bills. But you four are too cheap for that.” Anya flops down on Buffy’s couch, the tiara she’s adorned with partially inflated French ticklers and a pair of edible panties slipping down over one eye.
“I don’t think they’re supposed to actually touch you,” Willow says.
“There’s no expert on male strippers like a lesbian,” Anya replies.
Before Willow can respond, Buffy steps between them. “Okay, Anya, this is your night . . .” She checks her watch. “For two more hours. What do you want to do?”
Anya taps her knee with the scepter Dawn made for her from tampons and masking tape “What?” Dawn had said. “Like that’s any more tacky than Queen Ribbed for Her Pleasure’s crown” and replies, “I don’t know. Something naughty. Something I’ll never get the chance to do again after tomorrow.” Suddenly she smiles. “I know! I want to kiss a girl.” Anya looks around the room at each of them as she says this.
Tara claps a hand over Willow’s mouth and slowly inches them both toward the stairs. Meanwhile, Dawn steps slightly forward, a huge grin on her face, and Buffy yanks her back. “A world of no.” Dawn scowls, and Buffy sighs like it’s Tuesday.
“Okay, Anya. You wanna kiss a girl? Looks like I’m always the Chosen One.” And then she presses her lips to Anya’s. Anya’s lips are warm, and she tastes like the cherry pie Tara made, and nobody says anything at all when the kiss lasts long enough for Buffy to work one hand into the back pocket of Anya’s jeans. Nobody except for Dawn. But that was much later.
Just shy of 300 words, Buffy/Anya, utter silliness
"My bachelorette party is lame. There should be well-hung and oily men rubbing their crotches on my face in exchange for your dollar bills. But you four are too cheap for that.” Anya flops down on Buffy’s couch, the tiara she’s adorned with partially inflated French ticklers and a pair of edible panties slipping down over one eye.
“I don’t think they’re supposed to actually touch you,” Willow says.
“There’s no expert on male strippers like a lesbian,” Anya replies.
Before Willow can respond, Buffy steps between them. “Okay, Anya, this is your night . . .” She checks her watch. “For two more hours. What do you want to do?”
Anya taps her knee with the scepter Dawn made for her from tampons and masking tape “What?” Dawn had said. “Like that’s any more tacky than Queen Ribbed for Her Pleasure’s crown” and replies, “I don’t know. Something naughty. Something I’ll never get the chance to do again after tomorrow.” Suddenly she smiles. “I know! I want to kiss a girl.” Anya looks around the room at each of them as she says this.
Tara claps a hand over Willow’s mouth and slowly inches them both toward the stairs. Meanwhile, Dawn steps slightly forward, a huge grin on her face, and Buffy yanks her back. “A world of no.” Dawn scowls, and Buffy sighs like it’s Tuesday.
“Okay, Anya. You wanna kiss a girl? Looks like I’m always the Chosen One.” And then she presses her lips to Anya’s. Anya’s lips are warm, and she tastes like the cherry pie Tara made, and nobody says anything at all when the kiss lasts long enough for Buffy to work one hand into the back pocket of Anya’s jeans. Nobody except for Dawn. But that was much later.
